i've never liked hot drinks too much! not tea, not coffee, not hot chocolate.
its even when people describe how they would ideally like to be.. like their imaginary comfort zone.. sitting beside a window with the rain outside forming beads on the glass, two people as one, with fingers interwined, long hair let down casually.. and a steaming cup of coffee beside!
damn, there.. the last bit spoils it for me..
right now, with this cold n fever.. i'd jus like to sit in a balcony on a summer evening with the wind blowing against my face, wearing a three-qtr sleeved grey comfy sweat shirt and long hair let loose.. guitar in hand, cold vanila milkshake beside me.. jus strumming an old song n smiling to myself.. maybe with my diary beside me open n the pages fluttering..
*sigh*

anyway, i cudnt even go to work n now i fear sitting in the A.C class in the evening! my nose is continously running n i feel so weak n feverish. i have no taste in my mouth yet i'm hungry. i feel lazy yet i cant sleep anymore. i wanna write so much but i don't have the energy.
right here, right now, i need a vacation..


this is a song i had learnt in school n i looove it! jus visualise it, its so wonderful! :)

Oh,give me a home where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Oh, give me a land where the bright diamond sand
Flows leisurely down the stream;
Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
Like a maid in a heavenly dream.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

How often at night when the heavens are bright
With the light of the glittering stars,
Have I stood here amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Oh, I love these wild flowers in this dear land of ours;
The curlew I love to hear scream;
And I love the white rocks and the antelope flocks
That graze on the mountain-tops green.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

The red man was pressed from this part of the West,
He's likely no more to return
To the banks of Red River where seldom if ever
Their flickering campfires burn.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Where the air is so pure, the zephyrs so free,
The breezes so balmy and light,
That I would not exchange my home on the range
For all the cities so bright.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Oh, I would not exchange my home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Home, home on the range,
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.