Days of lately have passed significantly fast...guess it's due to the increasing load of homeworks due... can sense the tense even though I don't really realise that exams are drawing nearer as lecturers tend to constantly drone on and on about the exams...and last january externals results were out...i did generally fine..was satisfied....even though some papers were not up to expectations but economics turned out to be the underdog...haha...surprised....
watched final destination 3 and v for vendetta the other day...a movie marathon...final destination wasn't that good...can kinda predict how they will die...just the intensity of grossness that will trigger you slightly...still the first sequel 's the best i would say...they really drag the time the victims suffered before they're doomed...haha....chunted....on the other hand....v for vendetta was good...hugo weaving was of impressive disposition...with all the words and verses pragmatically rephrased...sometimes i couldn't even catch what he was blurting so fast a speed...a very different movie...one of my friend said that the graphic novel was better with other intricacies....v for vendetta's quite a famous graphic novel according to her..and that's why the making of the movie was quite a hit among those avid graphic novel readers...
have mock exam this week itself... it's better to have it early...can really find my weak points and really work on them for the remaining weeks.... can't wait for the month may to come...not because of the external exams...but i miss both my siblings too dearly...hopefully i will still be able to concentrate for exams preparation when they're back...haha...seriously can't wait...
till then, adieu~~

[Got this from somewhere bout v for vendetta]

'A revolution without dancing, is not a revolution.'

I pondered the words of the masked man as he took the ladies hand, and together they waltzed, gliding across the carpeted stone floor, dancing to a tune long forgotten. Why was he dancing, now of all times? On the eve of his supposed triumph, the finale of his satirical play looming with every tick of the clock, and he's, dancing?Maybe, it's best we start at the beginning.But then again, why should I?Do you want to know the beginning? Isn't the end all that matters? For him, clad in that ever grinning face of steel, the end was all that mattered, it justified the means, it meant justice to him. Look at him, you cannot see his face, yet his words will make you look at yours. You doubt me? Follow the fool and end up a bigger one?True.If only we knew what he was, how he came to be, why words seem to glide so fluently and charismatically from behind a Faustian mask. Such a gripping persona, one so broad and wide, yet troublingly shallow at times. At least with her, there is depth; no question remains unanswered with her. She had tragic past, lives a tragic life, but surely, mercy and reprieve await her days to come.

'Remember, remember, the 5th of November.'

Before they danced, long before he would even ask for her hand, there was an idea. Was it his? I cant say for certain. Yet it drove him, as it drove Guy Fawkes many centuries before. Did it drive someone before even Fawkes? Maybe. Ideas are eternal; ideas are well, bullet-proof so to say. It isn't in our time that 'his' idea was driven against, although it would be fairly safe to assume that maybe your children would live to experience it. Will your children live in a time when deceit and lies blanket the truth? Will they be vindicated, violated and vilified like he was? When the voice of your country subjugates it people, forces them into silence, would you, listen in awe, or listen in fear? But above all that, it matters most whether you will listen or if you will not at all.

'There is no coincidence, only opportunity.'

And he will strike and strike when it arises, seldom as it may be. Does he care not for the guns they hold, the Kevlar they adorn? Not in the least. Steel will glimmer and flash in the pale light, knives will draw and knives will sing, short a medley as it was, I felt that urge, to, well, sing along.Ah, he bolts off again, draped in black, cape fluttering behind him. Will you follow? Do his words reach you, will you listen to his words? For all that he may seem to be, a mask, the knives, the simple pleasures he partakes in, you still have to think, you have to envision.

If you will do that, you will follow him, and you will be free. =]