<body> victoria.
PROFILE

victoria
christian
eighteen
17th May 1990

Psalm 51:12
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit,
to sustain me.

Proverbs 16:9
In his heart a man plans his course,
but the LORD determines his steps.
The Word



The Upcoming

BIO 190A Final Exam - 14 Dec 09
Christmas! - 25 December
Back to school - 4 Jan 09


Chit Chat



get one from
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Friends

Caleb
Caleb (freewebs)
Charis
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Eedah
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Grace
Hongzuo
Jason
Joel Li
Joelyn
Jolene
Julian
Khalisah
Lynette
Marie
Meifang
Melodie
Nicole
Novelyn
Peng Tiong
Priya
Sam(slim)
Sarah
Sherylene
Sufian
Yong Hong
Zander
Zhihan

Archives



SITES YOU CAN GO TO

GMC OneYouth
Blacks Rugby Football Club
SR TOUCH RUG
Curious Minds
G@SR Literature blog
CONSIDERTHISCHARITY
2004 Class 2/6
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VISITATIONS

started on:
Sunday, February 25 2007
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scribbles/ Tuesday, July 17, 2007


ah food. its always there when you need it.
in good and in the bad.

this week is insanely packed with lots of stuff going on.
its exhausting just thinking about it.
oh well.

To be or not to be - Hamlet
To be or not to be, that is the question;
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.


You keep me safe in a crazy world.
8:19 p.m.