I just spent half an hour reviewing the blog posts I wrote this past year and the sometimes greatly amusing accompanying comments (such as the elaborate murderous thoughts of cute scary chicken eggs).

The reviewing session also brought to mind the fact that I have not practiced my writing for a considerably long period of time. This lack of writing may signal the absence of an inclination towards writing which is worrisome as I am contemplating pursuing a degree in English. On the other hand, it may just be an indication of plain indolence.

Aside from my dwellings on the need for writing practice, I am disappointed that my sibling has suddenly decided that a session of physical activity together in the gymnasium today would be a tad too early in his exercise routine.

[I'm lazy to continue writing in proper sentences =(.

But I must *inhales deeply*]

The weather at this side of Borneo has been very pleasant lately. The powers of the 'eye of Apollo' (hahahahahh! Greek mythology??) has been greatly diminished over the last few days by the accurate positioning of the clouds. As a result, I spent noontime the day before performing bodily movements I was taught when I was small in a large body mass of water with the one who bore me into this world (=P). [This usage of indirect references to persons and objects is beginning to evoke even my own feelings of irritation].

Blah.

I took so long to write this. No wonder I've been having trouble finishing exam essays :'(. ENG4UUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

Everything happens for a reason.

Aih.

Oh, another point I found interesting.
"People do not remember what you did, they remember how you made them feel."
It's a quote from a moving story published in 'Today's Catholic' about a cab driver whose passenger was an old lady who was yearning for a drive around the town she lived in before she entered herself into an old folks' home. It was 2.30am and she had no family left. The cab driver ended up bringing her around the town while she pointed out the places significant to her personal history. He didn't charge her a single cent but instead gave her a big hug when she finally decided it was time to go to the home. Her final words to him: "You've given an old lady moments of precious joy."

It's the small ordinary things we do that end up to be most important to us.

This is a quote from Mother Teresa if I have not been sadly mistaken for quite a long time:
"We can't do great things but we can do small things with a big heart"