Listening to Chinese pop songs of approximately 4 or 5 years ago makes me feel kind of bitter….
Those were the songs I listen again and again in that cosy little dormitory room…. People banging into my room without knocking from time to time and I did the same but we didn’t seem to mind. The microwave and microwavable containers were our main cooking utensils All the fire drills at 4am and fire alarms due to a burnt bread stuck in the toaster. Exeat weekends: hanging out in other people’s rooms in other houses and cooking and shopping and slacking Totally out-of-tune mini musical bands: Playing pop songs the classical way…. (Piano, Violin x2, Cello, Flute, Vocal) DDR tornaments in the common room harry potter style trunks full of seaweed, EDO biscuits and instant noodles (which we sell to the gwai mui’s at an insanely high price) Cooking Lap Mei Rice, then sharing it between 9 people squatting in a tiny little room… omg that’s like a refuge Midnight birthday celebrations (The birthday girl always pretended not to expect that)… then blowing the candles out of the window in order not to trigger the fire alarm… Very very very quiet bitching due to the extremely un-soundproof walls Stolen grapes in the refrigerator Signing in for 9 people at the dining room and getting caught Sneeking into others’ rooms during Quiet times And so much more All these scenes of the good old days kept coming up my mind…. aw…. what a bittersweet feeling… High school life is just so much fun… kids, enjoy it while you can. |
Archive for January, 2006
nostalgia
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“Take us out to the ballgame!”
“Take us out to the ballgame!” We girls proudly proclaim; Showing the world what we’ve got Is our ultimate aim.
We all share this utmost dream And take it to the most extreme. Don’t ever let it lie dormant However far it might seem.
Challenges, setbacks unforeseeable, In a rough journey full of obstacles; With our commitment to persevere, There’s no goal unattainable.
“Baseball is for boys,” you say, How invalid’s this cliche? Touched with baseball genes, we are Born to pitch and hit and play.
We would like to manifest That we all strive to try our best: To flee out of town, and touch the world, Like lil’ white balls hit out of the fence
The wind up and the pitch hits the mark, But it’s nothing like the graceful arc Swung by the bat, the sweetspot Where good ole ball met, with a spark.
Hurtling through the ballpark air Goes the leather covered sphere Roars of tension from the stands Pumps up in the atmosphere
Like our team, the ball swiftly flies In the focus of a million eyes Going… Going… Gone! Touch’em all and say GOODBYE! |
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