And I realized that I forgot I have a tumblr account.
*silence*
Fireflies and Cornfields
hold my hand and never let go because you're an important piece of my puzzle..
it doesn't matter where we are because when we're together.. it feels like home
1. This morning I asked someone if that someone saw another someone. She (the one I asked) pointed another side of the gym. Then she said, “oh, there.” pointing at the top of the gym’s wall (near the ceiling) and I looked up. And she and the person next to her burst into laughters.
2. I was giving a “speech” on how to adapt in my school for the new students and our teachers, the first part of my speech (really, I didn’t intend to say this) contained the words, “just the way you are” and that cracked a group of people up. Then somewhere in the middle, I said, “they (the returning students) might seem unfriendly, but actually, they’re really wild…and crazy.” And everyone was laughing. For a moment I stopped and said to myself, ‘did I say something funny?’ Yes, I felt like I’m a dork. It’s ok, I’ve realized that I am.
I don’t know about you but I feel really happy when I make people laugh. It makes me smile. I’m really thankful that no one chastised me for my lame jokes. I’m thankful that they laugh at them. Just thankful for laughters. :)
Upelkuchen&Pishsalver
Those words define my empire state of mind today. Being a new returning student is confusing for me, even though it might look like it’s not, but trust me, it is.
The highlights of my day were simple stuffs that matter so much; seeing my friends again, seeing new faces, making people laugh (although I didn’t intend to), you know, things like that.
The ‘bad’s were how Tweedledee’s not in the same homeroom with Tweedledum (sadface), seeing “the yellow bead“‘s replacement just to (once again) realize that she’s not gonna be there (here?) anymore, how I didn’t get to see the loud girl’s face again, how I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with my girls, and just knowing that this year’s gonna be different.
Well, my fingers are crossed. Hoping that this year’s gonna be as fantastic as last year.
How many people are here? O-O
Good idea?
No, maybe not. Hey people!
PANCAKE!
From what age can babies fly
FOLLOW SAYING IMAGES FOR MORE INSPIRED IMAGES & QUOTES
Then we can fly? Then why can’t I now? Someone took my flying power away! D:
PP trial: ceramic painting
Answer to the Hatter’s Riddle
“Inquiries have been so often addressed to me, as to whether any answer to the Hatter’s Riddle can be imagined, that I may as well put on record here what seems to me to be a fairly appropriate answer, viz. “Because it can produce a few notes, though they are very flat; and it is never put with the wrong end in front!” This, however, is merely an afterthought, the Riddle, as originally invented, had no answer at all.” —LC, Christmas, 1896.
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict “to begin it” -
In gentler tone Secunda hopes
“There will be nonsense in it!” -
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast -
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
“The rest next time -” “It is next time!”
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out -
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood’s dreams are twined
In Memory’s mystic band,
Like pilgrim’s wither’d wreath of flowers
Pluck’d in a far-off land.
—LC
