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Friday, February 27, 2004 In transit. I've never liked the last day of anything. The last day of school, and now the last day of teaching. Not because I'll miss it to bits, really. I mean I will miss the job of course, but what I don't like is the rituals of leaving any place. I like silent, unobtrusive exits, with the least hassle to all parties involved. And yet when I see others who make a big ado of such things, taking photos and so on, perhaps I feel guilty. Should I be obligated to at least go through the same motions? A part of myself wants to, perhaps, but the other part, the bigger part, begs a quiet exit. A contemplative one, where you only pass lightly through halls, with a whisper to herald your departure.And yet somehow I am reluctant to leave, which I know I must soon. I have work to do, things to attend to. And it's not like this is the final exit either, I'll be back either tomorrow or on Monday to tidy up the loose ends. But there's the loss, definitely. I've had one great chance to see my history in RGS from the other side, and for that I'll always be thankful. Somewhat related to all this and yet not so, is the thought that has played in my mind ever so often. I honestly, honestly wonder if anyone would miss me if I died today. I know the few it would matter a lot to, but to the vast, vague ring of acquaintances, colleagues, students? Ok, here we come to the crux. The other two temps, also leaving today, got great send-offs by their classes. I didn't. Any cause to be upset? Likely I was just reaping as I had sowed, and I have nobody else to blame but myself, for not being an inspiring/good enough teacher for them to care that I was leaving. Arguably it may have had something to do with the fact that I only found out 2 days ago that this was my last day, and only told my sec2 classes yesterday, but still. It's more the idea that similar scenes have played throughout my life, and having them happen so many times over doesn't ever mean that you are ever dead to the pain. Pathetic? Yes. I'll admit it is. I know full well it all is. I don't like it when I start whinging like I have been, the past month or so, but the whole thing's a big prozac pill. I certainly hope this hasn't set me down a path of self combustion and irreversible doom, gnashing of teeth etc. (time lapses here while Vivienne talks to the teacher in the next cubicle) Good humour slowly returns with the thought of production tonight, and seeing Tris tomorrow. :) Ah stuff it, I can't stay moody for long. Yeah, I think I should get round to cleaning up this tip now. The laptop needs to come home with me, as does the big mamma pile of marking in a plastic bag. Over and out. Viv wished for the moon @ 3:01 AM Thursday, February 26, 2004 Leeeemur. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:29 PM
This fits much better. Got this on my second attempt...I got Cuba on the first, which didn't sound much like me. Viva la Madagascar. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:27 PM
Well. No shit about the rabbits, eh. One of the greatest people of all time? Hey, I like this quiz already. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:24 PM One week left to go. For the first time I see O level results day from a teacher's point of view...the staffroom perspectives revolve around studying the statistics of the girls' performance last year. Apparently there's a bumper crop of good results, and I'm glad for all of them. Looking outside the staff room I see the hoardes of ex-students, the returning heroines of the hour, pensively wandering around the foyer and canteen areas, watching as the minutes tick past. They get back their results at 2 30, which is odd because I don't remember getting back my results so late. They reminded me of myself back then, the anxiousness, and agonies, and the disappointments. And more starkly they remind me that next week, at this time, I will be doing exactly what they are, only it'll be around the Humanities staff room. I don't know how I feel about getting my results back. I've been half-trying not to think about it. I'll be more than content with 3A's and a B, and one distinction for S-papers. Please God...please let it be. I had a great dream I got just that and more than anything I just felt immense relief wash over me. For once I had proven that I didn't always have to screw up national examinations, like I did in the PSLE and O-levels. It's not that they were very screwed up either...they were the marks that put you almost there but not quite. 261. 8 points. Like tripping the finish line and missing the qualifying round by a millisecond. And you can't go "Well hey you almost did it!" because what's the use in that? The point would remain, not that you almost did it, but that you didn't. It's cruel and pessimistic, but that's all the world remembers. I realize I've become exessively negative of late. Maybe I'm just trying to insulate myself against the pain of the nearly-inevitable. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:17 PM Tuesday, February 24, 2004 Aerodynamic: A cautionary tale.He wants to fly, brush the feathers of the birds that ride on the winds above him, soar with the wings his father built, and touch the sun, resplendent and warm, a lost memory of an afternoon. The closer he flies, the more the heat of that golden orb warms his back, and the larger and nearer the birds become. But the further he falls, in a blaze of feathers and wings, white as the clouds lost above him. Almost beautiful, almost a thing of the air itself, and it almost loves him as he tumbles down, down. Then with an infestimally tiny--for how does a vast ocean display its sorrow for a little hapless thing?-- splash. Barely a ripple in the infinite blue, and he is embraced by the restless sea below. In his wake, even the soft foamy scattered feathers have disappeared, wafting and sinking down as though air, and not water, still carries them, and the sea continues to heave and suck, and the sun continues to hang above as it did, resplendent, unreachable. A requiem for Icarus. For wings of wax were never built for flight. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:20 PM Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me. I'm losing my writing mojo again, baby...even chronicling my daily exploits has become impossible. But I refuse to declare the Imaginarium dead -- we're on hiatus. Ah, another interesting thing to play with...what if I were to treat my persona in the Imaginarium as a plurality? As though there's a crew working for this place? "We regret to inform you that we're going on vacation", "The team will be back during the weekend", "We're debating whether to get a new layout" etc etc. I dunno, now that I read it I realize it sounded alot more interesting in my head. I mean, now that we read it we realize it sounded alot more interesting in our head/heads. This should prove fascinating. Or maybe it just makes me look psychotic (On a side note it's buggering how the girls in my classes have this odd habit of using the word "psycho" in their compositions, viz "He looked like a psycho." WRONG WRONG WRONG, eff to hell the colloquialisms that despoil their grasp of the written English language! Damn this youth culture!). Ok singularity rules the day again. Currently ploughing through marking papers...I have a stack at least 20 cm thick sitting in my "in" tray, and pathetically nothing in the "out" tray. Debating whether or not to be ruthless and give 0 to all those who hand in their essays late. Honestly it's a big pain in the ass, especially when I've reiterated the deadline for this particular assignment which will be counted in their continual assessment. All the more reason to cut their marks for tardy submission, or less? I hate it when students quietly, almost anonymously, slip things into my locker late, without so much as an apology or explanation. Luckily enough for them I can't hold grudges, cuz I can't match names to faces terribly well and I usually forget the next time I enter the class.*eeep* There ya go. And I'm poor! Well at least as far as cash assets go. That's right folks, I have a grand total of 36 cents and an American quarter in my wallet. All money chomped up paying cabfare to go home from DBS auditorium last night. I was forgotten in last night's dinner buying at the theatre, I assume because I was up in the lightbox the whole evening. Understandable to a certain extent, and I knew I was in no position to be terribly upset because the director probably had more important things on his mind than remembering that up in the lightbox, 2 floors up, some little kid who just joined the show less than a week ago needed dinner. But then again the lack of dinner upset me and made me uneasy. I hope they don't forget today, but I don't know how to remind them without sounding like all I'm interested in is being fed. "Excuse me, when are you buying dinner?" Which is an OK question in itself, if I hadn't already asked it the day before. It must have seemed a funny question to the director, and somewhat irrelevant at the time, because he was busy with props. I just pray they remember me today, or that I find the appropriate moment to ask, and that ultimately one way or another I get dinner. A free one would be nice, and a free one is what I'll get if I place my order with the team, but worse come to worse if I have to trot over to UE square to stuff my face before showtime I just pray I have the time and the cash to do it. And whether I have the cash depends on whether I have the time, or I remember to go to an ATM beforehand. Yup, so I have to pray for a good memory. There we go. Meandering on, I nearly fell asleep at the lights console towards the end of the second half of the performance, which of course isn't too good. *Bwwb* The opening performance is tonight, and I've yet to really work with a complete set of light cues. Pray for me, and wish me luck! The cabbies at Mohammed Sultan are awfully chatty. Which is nice I guess, pleasant for tourists, but it certainly didn't do much for very sleepy me on my way home last night and the night before. And not just chatty, they're loud and expect the passenger to produce some response, which I was in no mood to do. I was completely drained, and all I wanted was some peace and quiet and reflective solitude (OK, maybe I just wanted to doze off) to follow me home. While I appreciate last night's cabbie for getting me home in record time, and his insights into the state of the economy, I kept wishing he wouldn't shout, and that he wasn't waiting for replies from me. Honestly, it's nothing rude against cabbies, and it's nothing personal, but I really prefer quiet cab rides. Part of the reason why I'd rather take a cab than a bus is that it's quiet. I am a passenger, the cabbie is doing me a service, and it is a monetary transaction. I am under no obligation to make conversation and it is my right to enjoy a silent, efficient, smooth cab journey. Do I sound snobbish, elitist? I know I might, to some quarters. But then again you must understand what I'm like. I hold solitude and silence in fairly high esteem. On that note I'd comment that I don't hold it always in such high regard. The first day I was in the theatre I was alone in a crowd, isolated at the fringe of theatre hustle and bustle. I've always loved it, but I've always loved it from the inside. It's never much fun looking in. And being bored, because the technicians had hopped off for dinner and locked the control room, thus leaving me stranded with only my novel for company. Restless, bored, and alone. The worst combination of all, I concede. And bite-sized bits and pieces. I'm hungry, a new temp has come in, we're now a merry group of 4 and I'm still on the outer rim, I'm getting a monster-ass acne breakout and my mum is adamant I see the dermatologist today (who will undoubtedly, as he always does, cluck at length at the abysmal state of my epidermis and be embarrassed by my mum who will always take pains to put me in the worst light. "She's always picking at her skin, I can't stop her."*cue apologetic chuckle*), I have to be in theatre by 6, results are coming out sometime next week, I am in a mess as far as next month's art exhibition goes for I haven't drawn diddly, my scholarship applications are in a wreck and I have a shitload of work to do. Yay. Viv wished for the moon @ 9:49 PM Sunday, February 22, 2004 The Fun News. Had the once in a lifetime chance of going back to HC to judge for DRAMAFESTE last night! Fun fun fun. Am devoid of all other comment, stomach full to bursting from the neighbours' barbeque. Gads.The Interesting News. I'm going to be doing the lights for The Stage Club's performance of Alan Ayckbourn's "A Chorus of Disapproval" this week! DBS Auditorium here I come for 6 days straight till really late at night! (Get tickets if you can, it's funny...this Wednesday to Saturday evening.) Bad News. Consequently I'm dead with regards to preparing lessons and marking this week. Tian ah...save me!!! :S :S I don't even know what I'm going to do for tomorrow, I'm at my wits' end... Glum Morose News. My baby's off to Jurong Island where he can't have his phone on or the gas tanks will explode. Something to that effect. Stuff You Really Didn't Have to Know But I'm Going to Tell You Anyway News. I'm having the worst pimple outbreak ever, my tummy looks blubbery and I might be having piles. *pause* Yeah. Viv wished for the moon @ 8:27 AM Saturday, February 21, 2004 Mmm...just a musing. Feel kinda sorry for the now famous William Hung, lost in his 15 minutes of fame...the attention used to be amusing but now I wonder just how many folks out there who claim they like him, and splash his face on T-shirts and fansites, are really just having a big laugh at him. Backhandedly the implications of his fame are rather insulting and none too complimentary. Guiltily I profess I find him a fascinating enough character, and I feel kinda bad for him. A third of the attention he's getting isn't of the totally positive variety. Viv wished for the moon @ 1:56 AMWednesday, February 18, 2004 It seems I've hit the wasteland of No Scholarship Activity...sigh...last night just wasn't good for the ego. Or the morale. *sighs*Everyone's had their shot at getting something. I just wonder when it'll be my turn. Or whether I'll have my turn at all. Seems like a hopeless business. I'm less afraid of my Uni applications than my scholarships. As I said, doors are closing fast and I'm afraid one morning I'll get that last envelope in the mail, rip it open, read it, and then face an empty, echoing hallway. Viv wished for the moon @ 6:12 AM Sunday, February 15, 2004 Nooooo shit!!! It seems that without my knowing of it I've won a runner up prize for the Commonwealth Essay Competition held last year! Check it out here.Am somewhat stunned because I chanced upon it completely by accident. I was checking up the Royal Commonwealth Society (RCS) website for prizewinning essays so that I'd know how to select potential winning works from my Sec2 classes but ended up clicking onto the other buttons. I clicked "Class A" and lazily scrolled down till I reached the "Runners Up" List. I scanned it but yet did not see, my name hardly registered. I went to the toilet and came back, and read again, and THEN realized Holy Crap, that's My Name!!! I was pretty much in shock, partly because of the completely unintended way I'd stumbled upon this bit of information, and partly because I was never informed by the school, or by the tutors, or anyone else. The results were supposed to have been released last July, but no acknowledgement whatsover by official parties, either via email or the school. I am bewildered indeed...I'm supposed to get a personal certificate for it too, but no sign of that. Did it get lost in the mail? Or is it lost somewhere in the HCJC school office, or in the clutter of my tutors' desks? Or did it never come? The plot thickens, and I am thoroughly bewildered. The one thought that dominates me, however is, WOW. Never in my wildest dreams, and only in the most wistful whispers of fantasies, did I imagine that I'd be able to make it. I might post the essay up here sometime, but I am slightly mystified as to how I won. It HAD to be the fact that I plugged Singapore like nobody's business. It's a fact that the RCS is fond of this cultural stuff: native settings, folklore, local foods, names, traditions, ethnic groups, etc. Thorougly understandable but it's some cause for incredulity that they bought my essay nonetheless. I mean, all my friends who read it complained it was a shameless pandering to the whimsies of the judges. They were right, I guess. It's all subjective I suppose, whether what I see as a far-reaching attempt to impress the judges and give them just what they want to hear in actuality appears like that to them when they read it. I wonder what went through their minds. Hmm. Thoughts kinda jumbled up now, as you can see. The girl who won the First Prize in my category deserved it I believed; click around on the website to find your way to winners' essays. Das all, folks! Viv wished for the moon @ 8:21 AM Thursday, February 12, 2004 Oink, oink. I can't believe it. All of us have been discussing tactics like these for ages and centuries. It's about time!Quotable quote from the article: "The rabbi said if police do not enact the plan, tens of thousands of Orthodox Jews will arm themselves with guns capable of spraying liquid pig lard at suspects [Islamic suicide bombers]. " Viv wished for the moon @ 8:45 PM Tuesday, February 10, 2004 This is one of the best Fairytale sites I've come across on the net...I'm hooked. There's just sooo much stuff in this webbie it's downright amazing. Indeed, I never had an inkling about the complexity of fairy tales until I found... Surlalunefairytales.com.Erk I think I may have gotten myself into a spot of difficulty. The deadline for me to submit one Commonwealth Essay submission from each class I teach is this Monday, 5pm, but I'm only collecting all 106 essays this Friday. I thought a weekend would be enough but yesterday I got a little worried when I heard that teachers who collected the essays on Monday were still struggling through them, not finished yet. Oh no! What was I thinking?! *groans* Of course I can't push the deadline much further forward than it already is...my rationale is that I'm only going to do the bare essential, glance quickly through all of them and grab the few that catch my attention and hold it. It's only 500-700 words per essay anyway, typewritten. So long as I hand in the essays by next Monday I can then continue to mark at leisure...my only difficulty is that I need to get all the girls' emails, so that I can inform the "chosen ones" to brush up their grammar, and be ready to collect the entry forms from me on Monday. I certainly hope it works out. *bwwb* Man. Slack slack...back to fairy tales! Dee dee dee. Viv wished for the moon @ 10:12 PM Monday, February 09, 2004 The chips fall. Yup...as you can tell by the taggies, I didn't make it for PSC. :( Even from that sick cosmic joke point of view it's not funny anymore. I'm tired of talking about it...but I can safely say that after thinking back, recalling all the times when this scenario has replayed itself in my life...the Lord is really sometimes the only One who keeps me sane. Knowing that there is a greater plan, and that there are things He has in store for me that are different from his plans for others, is the only thing that prevents me from going crazy over the seeming injustice of it all. Heaven knows, if not for God maybe I would've been suicidal. *shudders* So what to do? Work at the rest of the apps...CAAS, SIA. It's all I can do, and Lord give me strength indeed. Viv wished for the moon @ 7:35 AMSunday, February 08, 2004 Agony redefined. Currently at home sits an envelope with my name on it from PSC. My mum messaged me to tell me this 10 minutes ago, and the horrible agony of waiting, suspense, has settled upon me...the minutes tick by and my ignorance of my fate annoys me immensely. I contemplated asking my mum to open it for me, deliver me the news, good or bad. But I have a lesson in half an hour, and well...let's just say if the news isn't what I want to hear I'm going to be in no mood to do it. But until I rip that envelope open and find out the truth I'm going to be just as agitated anyway...*breathes deeply* Ok, breathe, breathe... Viv wished for the moon @ 11:05 PMSaturday, February 07, 2004 *Yawns* Though I'm sleepy and tired, it must be said. It's been a wonderful 4 days with you baby, and already I miss you awfully. I look forward to next Saturday indeed luv, and all the days after that we spend together, physically and/or in spirit. I love you. :) Viv wished for the moon @ 11:58 AMArs Longa, Vita Brevis. New art art art! :D Ten points for giving me the name of the group that sang that song. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:49 AM Thursday, February 05, 2004 Janet Jackson Cartoons. I'm surprised that it's turned into an oddly political issue for Americans. Perspective from the other side, eh.In other news, a little hair gel goes a long way. Took pains to use good gel yesterday to scrunch up my hair and it looked much livelier today. And people noticed! Well, almost. They guessed something was different, at least, and it probably wasn't the fact that I was wearing a fresh pair of underwear or something. My English mentor stopped me in the corridor and said "There's something different about you today." 2 seconds later my ex-geography teacher stopped me again and asked, out of nowhere, "Did you lose weight?" The final call was when I arrived for philosophy class and my group chirped "Wah Miss Wong, how come your hairstyle keeps changing?" A bizarre and rather pleasing series of incidents in an extremely short period of time. Coool. Unfortunately it didn't happen the rest of the day at all. Either my hair started drooping or people were suddenly exceptionally alert during that 5 minute window stated above. Hmm. Viv wished for the moon @ 11:10 PM Monday, February 02, 2004 I'll Be::The Goo-Goo Dolls:: The strands in your eyes The color in them wonderful Stop me Then steal my breath Emeralds from mountains Thrust towards the sky Never revealing their depth ** Well the first verse anyway, it's the only one I like. The rest is a little too heartache angsty for me. Viv wished for the moon @ 7:50 PM Oh and how can I forget? Haha I shall again sponge off Karin's bloggie for you to get the lowdown...about our East Coast Park jaunt today! Yes...it was extremely fun, and tandem biking has introduced me to a whole new world of trauma and thrills. Aye, it was a good time, girls...we have to do something like that again soon, ja? *hugs* Viv wished for the moon @ 11:14 AM Talk about splurging, I've spent close to a hundred bucks today. And vaguely panicked because my salary is supposed to sustain me till my next paycheck, as my parents refuse to give me anymore allowance. Justified I guess, but I have to ask them to bear in mind that my salary is only for half a month's work. Either way, isn't this about earning EXTRA money, not just earning money? It would be nice to have some savings for once, and this will be pretty difficult if I have to spend everything out of it. Dunno, I was looking forward to extra savings and spending cash, looks like I won't get it after initial post-paycheck spending-in-euphoria. :( Breakdown of expenses so far: $70 for tithe on Sunday $9.50 for lunch at Kenny Rodger's with Ouyang today(KR's marinades are awfully odd. And packed with MSG) $64 for dinner treat for family plus Karin and Janice who were fortunately situated today aaaand...$24.70 for markers and miscellaneous art supplies!!! :D :D Finally made the trip down to Art Friend at Bras Basah complex and was promptly stymied by square metre upon square metre of art supplies of every possible shape, smell and colour. Heaven, I tell you. I totally forgot about my more immediate need to buy inking pens and made a beeline for the markers, and indulged in 2 grey Prisma markers ( Warm 40% grey and cool 60% grey) and, deciding to be adventurous, went for 3 markers in this other brand called Chartpaks, which were also a whole lot cheaper than Prismas and Copics (which, though highly coveted, are a bleedin' $5.75 per marker.). Vaguely heard of them before, and I was impressed by the colour range, and they had the skin tints and blush colours I wanted, so I got the lot. To round off the stash I picked up a couple of white soluble-lead crayons for highlights and corrections. I was so happy I could have wet myself, until I got home and experimented with my purchases. The Prismas, ever reliable, worked just fine, aside from the 40% grey being slightly unco-operative where ink flow is concerned. Oh dear, should've checked. But it'll be alright I hope. The Chartpaks, however, were a disaster. I guess it probably has more to do with the fact that I'm completely untrained in the art of marker usage, but when I tried them out in my sketchbook they bled and bled and kept seeping past the shapes I coloured them into. The only good thing about them was that they were excellent for blending and shading because they took a while to dry. Probably one of those marker types that need the special paper. Which I have, but I hate using...there's just so much pressure to draw something good if you're using special paper. Bah. Addendum: Ignore the wetting self part, it's an unnecessary detail, ja? Viv wished for the moon @ 11:07 AM Sunday, February 01, 2004 Oh well, my turn. The BBC's list of the 200 most popular books, a public poll. Not into it to critique, just to see how I measure up to the likes of great book readers like Karin and company. I have an advantage, I've read the Roald Dahls and she hasn't! *grin grin* Anyway the ones in bold have been read by moi. The ones half boldened are where I cheated and only read half of it, or an abridged version:1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien 2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen 3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman 4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams 5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling 6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee 7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne 8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell 9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis 10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte 11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller 12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte 13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks 14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier 15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger 16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame 17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens 18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott 19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres 20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy 21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell 22. Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone, JK Rowling 23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling 24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling 25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien 26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy 27. Middlemarch, George Eliot 28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving 29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck 30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll 31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson 32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez 33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett 34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens 35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl 36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson 37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute 38. Persuasion, Jane Austen 39. Dune, Frank Herbert 40. Emma, Jane Austen 41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery 42. Watership Down, Richard Adams 43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald 44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas 45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh 46. Animal Farm, George Orwell 47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens 48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy 49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian 50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher 51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett 52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck 53. The Stand, Stephen King 54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy 55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth 56. The BFG, Roald Dahl 57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome 58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell 59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer 60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky 61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman 62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden 63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens 64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough 65. Mort, Terry Pratchett 66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton 67. The Magus, John Fowles 68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman 69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett 70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding 71. Perfume, Patrick Suskind 72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell 73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett 74. Matilda, Roald Dahl 75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding 76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt 77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins 78. Ulysses, James Joyce 79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens 80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson 81. The Twits, Roald Dahl 82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith 83. Holes, Louis Sachar 84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake 85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy 86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson 87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley 88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons 89. Magician, Raymond E Feis 90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac 91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo 92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel 93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett 94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho 95. Katherine, Anya Seton 96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer 97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez 98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson 99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot 100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie 101. Three Men In A Boat, Jerome K. Jerome 102. Small Gods, Terry Pratchett 103. The Beach, Alex Garland 104. Dracula, Bram Stoker 105. Point Blanc, Anthony Horowitz 106. The Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens 107. Stormbreaker, Anthony Horowitz 108. The Wasp Factory, Iain Banks 109. The Day Of The Jackal, Frederick Forsyth 110. The Illustrated Mum, Jacqueline Wilson 111. Jude The Obscure, Thomas Hardy 112. The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mole Aged 13 and a half, Sue Townsend 113. The Cruel Sea, Nicholas Monsarrat 114. Les Miserables, Victor Hugo 115. The Mayor Of Casterbridge, Thomas Hardy 116. The Dare Game, Jacqueline Wilson 117. Bad Girls, Jacqueline Wilson 118. The Picture Of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde 119. Shogun, James Clavell 120. The Day Of The Triffids, John Wyndham 121. Lola Rose, Jacqueline Wilson 122. Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray 123. The Forsyte Saga, John Galsworthy 124. House Of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski 125. The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver 126. Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett 127. Angus, Thongs And Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison 128. The Hound Of The Baskervilles, Arthur Conan Doyle 129. Possession, A. S. Byatt 130. The Master And Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov 131. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood 132. Danny The Champion Of The World, Roald Dahl 133. East Of Eden, John Steinbeck 134. George's Marvellous Medicine, Roald Dahl 135. Wyrd Sisters, Terry Pratchett 136. The Color Purple, Alice Walker 137. Hogfather, Terry Pratchett 138. The Thirty-Nine Steps, John Buchan 139. Girls In Tears, Jacqueline Wilson 140. Sleepovers, Jacqueline Wilson 141. All Quiet On The Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque 142. Behind The Scenes At The Museum, Kate Atkinson 143. High Fidelity, Nick Hornby 144. It, Stephen King 145. James And The Giant Peach, Roald Dahl 146. The Green Mile, Stephen King 147. Papillon, Henri Charriere 148. Men At Arms, Terry Pratchett 149. Master And Commander, Patrick O'Brian 150. Skeleton Key, Anthony Horowitz 151. Soul Music, Terry Pratchett 152. Thief Of Time, Terry Pratchett 153. The Fifth Elephant, Terry Pratchett 154. Atonement, Ian McEwan 155. Secrets, Jacqueline Wilson 156. The Silver Sword, Ian Serraillier 157. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey 158. Heart Of Darkness, Joseph Conrad 159. Kim, Rudyard Kipling 160. Cross Stitch, Diana Gabaldon 161. Moby Dick, Herman Melville 162. River God, Wilbur Smith 163. Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbon 164. The Shipping News, Annie Proulx 165. The World According To Garp, John Irving 166. Lorna Doone, R. D. Blackmore 167. Girls Out Late, Jacqueline Wilson 168. The Far Pavilions, M. M. Kaye 169. The Witches, Roald Dahl 170. Charlotte's Web, E. B. White 171. Frankenstein, Mary Shelley 172. They Used To Play On Grass, Terry Venables and Gordon Williams 173. The Old Man And The Sea, Ernest Hemingway 174. The Name Of The Rose, Umberto Eco 175. Sophie's World, Jostein Gaarder 176. Dustbin Baby, Jacqueline Wilson 177. Fantastic Mr Fox, Roald Dahl 178. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov 179. Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, Richard Bach 180. The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery 181. The Suitcase Kid, Jacqueline Wilson 182. Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens 183. The Power Of One, Bryce Courtenay 184. Silas Marner, George Eliot 185. American Psycho, Bret Easton Ellis 186. The Diary Of A Nobody, George and Weedon Grossmith 187. Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh 188. Goosebumps, R. L. Stine 189. Heidi, Johanna Spyri 190. Sons And Lovers, D. H. Lawrence 191. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera 192. Man And Boy, Tony Parsons 193. The Truth, Terry Pratchett 194. The War Of The Worlds, H. G. Wells 195. The Horse Whisperer, Nicholas Evans 196. A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry 197. Witches Abroad, Terry Pratchett 198. The Once And Future King, T. H. White 199. The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Eric Carle 200. Flowers In The Attic, Virginia Andrews 37 and a half books, even when considering the Roald Dahls. *disgruntled* The only thing I'll comment upon is the fact that Goosebumps made it to top 200. Like, whuuut. Yup, I feel so proud of myself, I made it through Sons and Lovers. The first book I've read in ages, the first novel since Mayor of Casterbridge. Yeah, I suck...slowly trying to get back into the reading habit, and I must say DH Lawrence was a nice reintroduction. Am going to try either Pope's The Rape of the Lock or Umberto Eco next. Fun fun fun! Viv wished for the moon @ 6:58 PM |
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Head in the clouds Vivienne Wong was hatched on the 12th of June 1985 and hails from Singapore, which contrary to popular belief, is not a colony of Japan. Formerly of Raffles Girls' Primary and Secondary School and then of Hwa Chong Junior College's Humanities Scheme, she is currently readjusting herself to the finer points of academia (read: she hasn't studied in ages and is really overworked) in her 2nd year at Nanyang Technological University Communication Studies. However she is currently spending the semester on the snowy plains of Ithaca College, New York, and lovin' it. Otherwise, she likes talking about herself in the third person, drawing, acting, comics, watching cartoons, eating Italian food, light rock, Irish music, Broadway tunes, acoustic guitar riffs, drawing some more and singing loudly in the bathroom. On the other hand, she dislikes unmotivated people, afternoon naps, the conventional, and people who are either smelly or wearing clothes too tight for them so that they end up bulging. Contactable here.
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