fie-guratively speaking

today, i found my boys playing some bloody, zombie-splattering game online.  i suggested a more *ahem*  intellectually stimulating game (obligatory teacher duty) and they went into this whole shpiel on how cool it was to massacre and totally annihilate things into oblivion.

right.

personally, i’m kinda glad part of this passionate outburst came from a boy whom i’ve found, on more than one occasion, to be skipping and bursting into merry, julie andrews-style song along the corridors during lunch.

ok, so call me stereotypically sexist, but geez, boys just don’t go doing things like that.

mark perfect squares, trace little black numbers.

it’s been a while.

sometimes, i think you’re too good a person and it scares me to know i could never measure up to being as great a friend as you are. 

thank you.

for the specifics,

for the miscellany,

and for everything else in between.

some days, i question the profession and wonder if it’s worth all the effort.

then i get to teach eleven year olds like *jw, who at the end of the week, make it to the gold star board for progressing exceptionally well.

and i think, by golly is this worth it.

:)

***

*lh texts from melbbie: your bf looks stunning in pink.

me: …. sounds very wrong coming from a guy but yes, i’d have to agree.

***

watching the flurry of baggage check-ins and photography sessions; seeing the visible excitement amidst tears; the long hugs; the follow-after-yous and silhouette train waves;

i wondered about goodbyes.

(and then silently gloated over the fact that our farewell contingent for wenz and gabe was by far, much larger than that of the malaysian badminton team who were on their way to denmark. our motley crew so trumped theirs, oh yeah.)

***

on a separate note, yes, i survived the white water rafting trip over the raya hols. i’m still nursing a sprained wrist and am sporting some really funky bruises, but what’s a risque trip without physically scarring memorabilia eh?

pictures up soon.

and in that minute space,

when transatlantic lines whir and crackle;

i think, three seventy six from the first,

you’ve been away for far too long.

i want christmas early.

be that caped crusader, and breathe in dark hewn streets;

countless nights that roll into streaked mornings

and you wake wondering if it was all a dream.

tag and skip the lines you overlook,

cry if you must, take in clarity;

if there ever was,

ever once, ever once.

***

i’ll look at you

and know that the world was beautiful.

                                            -polaris, jimmy eat world-

***

guess who just scored six hundred six hundred and sixty buckaroos over the weekend!

shweeeeeeeeeet….

***

to the one who just got his uk Masters offer: i’m so proud of you, big guy. a selfish part of me wants you to stay so that you’ll be that much nearer to me but i’m really happy you made the cut. i will miss you (and your assuring height), but go for it, mr hot-shot lawyer. show em what you’ve got! make sure you gimme your room when i come visit :) *hugs*

to you who so painfully gave up optimus tonite: you’re a champion, mate.

you shall be rewarded ten fold with more optimus-es than you could ever imagine.

***

after all this while, i still haven’t mastered the art of saying goodbye.

i wish we could stop counting marbles.

***

… and that familiar ache.

hurryhurry, mr emo rocker.

my insides are screaming indignantly, and i want so much to be petulant.

sometimes i think you could fall away and i’d be oblivious to it.

i need a hug :(