It's not about geography or happenstance

o_0

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 03:14:40 GMT

It's the new year. It's my A level year. It's my grade 8 year. Right now would be a good time to run for the hills. Yeaaaa.

What was I doing when the New Year rolled round last night? I was sleeping. Thanks to my throat infection. But I had fun yesterday. Whenever I hang out with Piggy, I end up having a food eating marathon instead. So it was crispy peanut pancake first, then Bishan bubbletea, then all the way down to Dhoby Ghaut only to find out that the brownie shop was closed >:( so instead, we went to PS to get fried Mars Balls. Yes, Mars Balls, not bars. We could feel our throats screaming. It was THAT sweet. But we love it. XD

Right. Yesterday was fun, today not so much. I've got tons of homework to do and I gotta do them now. So that means I can forget about writing for the moment. Urgg. I'm not about to make any New Year resolutions because as we all know it, that's just a sham to make ourselves feel better for the first few miserable months of a new year and then to eventually face and surrender to reality. Yep. I know I sound terribly cynical. But come on, who keeps their New Year resolutions?!

I'm just gonna go back to my room and stare at the wall. I can see/feel an entire year, unwalked and untouched, stretch out before me and there's this gigantic black festering mess in November. A levels. YAY.

A date with myself

Fri, 05 Dec 2008 12:53:18 GMT

Maybe we should all go on dates with ourselves. Sometimes I do. And I enjoy it, frankly. Just me and my ipod.

I went prawning with Oliver and Siyi today. And obviously I OWNED. XD They weren't having much luck with the prawns before I came, then after I reached? I was on a roll. Too bad he didn't take pictures, was probably too busy with the gf. Sheesh. I'm just kidding. You guys are so sappy sometimes I wanna choke, or maybe in the case of today, jump in to join the prawns. Haha. Oh but imagine just how many I would be able to catch. And Oliver? You have issues. People catch prawns, remove the hook, and toss it into the basket. People don't catch the prawns, scold them for waving their pincers at them/ damn them to eternal flames/ or reprimand them for splashing waster on them, then pull out their pincers for good measure. ISSUES MAN!

Well, I went to Bishan to buy bubbletea, then on a sudden whim, decided to walk round J8 on my own. I went window shopping. Yes, on my own. And OMG this is why Esprit is my all time favourite clothes brand (if I had the moolah that is). The jackets. Ooooh...! Look at this. Just look at this hot thing (you can decide if it's the jacket or the person in it...or both XD).

Well, downside of this? It's kinda thick and impedes arm movement (maybe cuz all the kitchen labour has given me coolie muscles), and because it's Esprit...it's $150. Yep. No surprise there though. I'll look for a thinner one, because I don't want to look beefy. Ew. Major ew.

So anyway, I walked around a bit, went to Body Shop, Fox...that's about it. I spend way too much time in a single store. And for one crazy moment, I was thinking of buying bubbletea no.2. But no. While I love my diabetes-in-a-cup, I'm not gonna let it replace meals. Heh.

Well, I'm off to make links and spot loopholes in the plot for LL now. Hopefully I'll get it done to procede with the chapter.

I want a vest.

Finally

Mon, 01 Dec 2008 15:49:05 GMT

I've updated Lenz's Law. Yes. Really, I'm not freaking joking. I wanted to update it in the afternoon but it's like almost 12am now. Bah. And the humidity's killing me. I've got work tomorrow and today's my best friend's birthday. As you can see everything's a muddled mess in my head and I can't think properly or sort out my thoughts to even type coherantly and logically.

Well, I feel proud of myself. I've accomplished something that I didn't get to almost the entire year. If this year was bad, I don't want to know what next year is like, which is impossible cuz I'll have to sit through A levels anyway. Oh the dread. Anywhoo...I'm gonna go do some more updating then sleep. Yes.

Ooooh!!! I can't wait to go Kushinbo again! AHHH!!! I'll take more photos, i can't not with my best friend around anyway. Camwhore much? XD

I'm posting. Finally.

Fri, 14 Nov 2008 16:11:07 GMT

I hadn't meant my journal to become a blog, but what to do? I didn't have much time to write. And now? Inspiration keeps evading me! Alright maybe it's because I have this huge urge to start a new story, but I shouldn't because I've not completed anything save for that teeny oneshot done in the spur of the moment before my Physics exam. Yay.

In any case, I just came back from a crazy day. Went for my first day of work, then it was off for piano then choir. I'm dead tired now to the point where I'll maul anyone who dares to keep me awake any longer. So...thought I'd post some pictures of me and some class peeps at Kushinbo the other day. OMG...it is jap food heaven! The guys just spammed the snow crab legs, brought back like mountain-fulls of leggies to the table. And this entire platter of UNAGI! Need I say more? I'd pay $32 anytime for it again I tell you. Eh, Piggy, we'll go the moment your stomach stops being a bitch yea? I promise it's one of those buffets you won't get sick of.

In any case, here are some pics.

FOOOODD

We didn't take pictures of the plates of food cuz well, we were too busy eating said plates of food. Heh.

Fooling around.

PMS

Thu, 02 Oct 2008 03:45:31 GMT

I know why I was all pissy and grumpy the past few days. Yay.

Anyway, had fun yesterday with almost 1/3 of s08 at my house camping in my room and watching movies. They literally camped there, seriously. Had to change my bedsheets after they left cuz they gathered on my bed. o_0 Wow. Celebrated Gushi and Sisong's birthdays. Hmm...I'll put up pics when I get them from Liru.

Right. I'm not in school today. Why? Because I got pissed that my brother kept rushing me to get out of the house. He was waiting downstairs when I was half-dressed for crying out loud!

Oh here's a little something I found while being random and ended up almost shitting in my pants because it's just so damn funny. We should all have these in our classes. XD

Full Steam Ahead

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 12:39:36 GMT

So I made the stupid mistake of mugging till 2.30am this morning. Was a cranky bitch in school and now I'm sneezing.

I'm just online to read this fic I've been following, then it's off to my books again.

Today I actually saw Wenhui emo. She's in the stage where she's not quite giving up, yet not quite making it either. It seemed wrong to see someone so cheerful 24/7 suddenly succumb to studies. What does that show I wonder. I think, if she had started crying, my heart would really break. Whether I care to admit or not, she does cheer me up in school without realising, makes me smile and roll my eyes and reduces me to telling lame jokes to make her laugh. It's like being around sunshine in the frigid cold. Maybe that's why I'm subconsciously always around her. Takes my mind of issues. One of which I see way too much these few days. Coincidence is too cruel. In any case, it shocks me to realise that I'd willingly sacrifice time and sleep if only to help her along with Chem. Won't and can't let her retain.

In any case, studies is a bitch as always and time's running out.

Stupid Girls

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 13:17:08 GMT

I thought this video was worth putting up on my blog. It's probably one of the funniest mtvs I've seen so far. Gotta love Pink. And here I though Paris Hilton and Britney were getting bashed up pretty badly already. Wrong. Pink pwns them all!

And have I mentioned how I love good parodies? They're like a perfect end to a shitty day.

So she pokes fun at Hilton's sex videos and ridiculously air-headed actions and how men see only the boing-boings. Not that I don't, but that's a different story. I mean, come on! If those girls were to get into car accidents, they'd never get harmed! Talk about cushioning. Imagine HONKHONK! SCREEEECH!! BOINGBOINGBOINGBOING!!

Ok, I think I've been watching too much table tennis. But eww..bad mental image.

ANYWAY...you just gotta love Pink's guts.

Love the tanning salon.

Oh my god you guys, I totally had more than 300 calories today
That is so not sexy
Good one, can I borrow that?
I WILL BE SKINNY!!

Finally

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 13:57:49 GMT

Oliver has finally passed me pictures that have been long overdue. And also, I realised he is a terrible photographer. Atrocious.

DUDE! So many pictures that contain me are blurrrrrred!!!

Tsktsk. Go improve on your photography skills.

Oh yea...it looked as though you took more pictures of food than of our classmates. Shame on you! XD

Not to mention the numerous unglam photos you took of me. Ugh.

But here I managed to sift out a few presentable ones. XD

Moderately presentable.

Unflattering yet somewhat...ok. o_0

This one is to poke at your conscience. Just where on earth were you trying to take a picture of huh?! I box you!

Ok I give you credit for this photo. XD I think she looks like Ayaka Komatsu.

Me, Moumou, Dahlia, Liru with Bryan in the background. See Oliver? Even here I look like I wanna beat you up! XD

I should post more pictures. It's fun in a strange way. Maybe I should camwhore more as well. Piggy, where the hell are you when I want to camwhore?! After my promos, we spend one whole day running about and taking pictures k? Cuz as of now, my life is DA BORING.

Off to study chem. Maybe the next time you see me I'll be under a pile of moles. Solvents. Hydrocarbons. Whatever. Organic thingamimies.

OMG the ditzy emoticon thingy is so adorable! It's has a singular strand of hair. Aww.

Long, swishy hair.

Why so serious?

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 15:20:43 GMT

So today I caught The Dark Knight. Finally a movie with a proper plotline and rich characters. Haven't we been lacking that in fanfiction and in movies lately? Hmm..

I kind of realised that the caped crusader himself wasn't given as much screen time as the villians, which was rather ironic but I didn't mind. The storyline is the best, so many twists and so rich. Gosh. I suppose we must all thank Heath Ledger for such great acting skills, I doubt anyone else could have pulled off the Joker as well as he did. Every insane chuckle and jerky movement had me digging my nails into the seat cushion. So brilliantly deranged.

There was something so sinister yet familiar about him. Given further thought, I guess we can all relate to him. We actually can, contrary to popular belief. That crazed, manic streak that he had, we all see it in ourselves at one point or another. As sweeping and wild as his views were, they made sense, and I suppose that was what made him that more feared. It shook me. Not just with how cold he was but with how everything had this huge psychological impact on me. To be able to relate on some level to a cracked up monster does that to you.

Mind games. It's always about mind games.

I suppose another reason why I like this movie so much (enough to rank it beside Lord of The Rings) is how the superheroes aren't your typical superheroes with flashing superpowers and blinding moves. They were regular people. No webslinging, no laser eye beams, no superhuman strength. Just guns and pure genius.

I shall not give out any spoilers so I won't say much about the twists, only that they spun me around 360. Though the movie was rather long, the brilliant plotline made up for it.

Forget Christian Bale. Heath Ledger owns.

Did I do something wrong?

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 12:22:34 GMT

Yeah...I've been wondering that ever since I posted my oneshot on Friday. Finally. Yes I've taken way too long for a oneshot. Can I call it a oneshot though? Since I'll be splitting it up into two. A twoshot maybe? Whatever.

So, I've gotten one review. ONE. All you fanfic writers out there should know the feeling of coming back home from a full day of work/school and seeing nothing, no story alert, no author alert, no favourite story, NO REVIEWS when eagerly checking your inbox. It makes me wonder this: If you can bother to alert my story and favourite it, why not give me a review as well? I mean, it doesn't take long for a simple "Good job", or a "Nicely done", whatever it is that people review nowadays.

The only reason I'm ranting about this is because the lack of reviews make me think that I've done something wrong. Perhaps it was too long? Too wordy? Too colourful? I don't know. =/

I'm just paranoid. I mean, writing's the one thing I really love and have a passion for and I can't help but be a perfectionist when it comes to it. BAH.

Ok so second-person stories aren't all that common. But I like. I find that it's much more personal and gives the character much more depth. I'd hate for my characters to turn out like some 2D paper cut-out.

So here it is, whomever that may chance across my journal, and tell me what you think because the last thing I need to do is start doubting myself. It's second-person point of view. Rei's point of view. Great. Now off you go.

---------

Rei

One would think that a face would freeze with its unsightly expression after having held said expression for longer than one ever thought possible, as though a face were made of wet clay and would permanently dry up given enough time. It could happen to anyone, you surmise. But it sure hasn’t happened to you. No worries then, you shrug and turn your black face a few shades darker.

It’s curious.

You don’t like feeling stifled. You absolutely loathe the feeling of being restricted in your movements. You love large open spaces, and your patience always tends to run low when you are stuck in the same position for more than thirty seconds.

So why did you allow yourself to be coaxed into this like a hapless lamb by a blonde in wolf’s clothing?

You don’t know. Or at least you pretend to.

The sun’s out, yet it seems chillier than before. Perhaps it has to do with her absence by your side. You glance warily at the blonde buying tickets for two at the quaint brick counter, and it is then that you feel strangely grateful that you aren’t the one queuing. You probably would’ve incinerated everyone standing in your way with a Mars Fire Soul after failing to count to ten. That would certainly put a damper on things. Or kick it up a notch seeing as how you’d like to watch her expression.

It still scares you though, how she always knows when you’re looking at her, and this time is no exception. With a slight turn of her head, she locks her cerulean eyes with your startled ones hidden behind your pair of shades and flashes that knee-buckling smile of hers. You try, but finally relinquish all effort in maintaining an impassive expression and free a crooked grin.

She does that to you - draw out reactions from you that naturally wouldn’t see the light of day.

You have to give it to her though. How she is able to wield her weapons of mass persuasion tactfully and subtly goes beyond any form of reasoning known to you, if the fact that you are standing on Disneyland grounds isn’t evident enough. You fold your arms in annoyance.

“My, my. Now isn’t that a charming scowl you’ve been sporting since I met you at the station an hour ago?” She shakes her head in mock disappointment as she saunters up to you, tickets in hand. Standing in front of you with arms akimbo, she waits for you to wipe off the petulance written all over your face. “Well?”

You decide not to humor her.

“All right cut that out. We’re going in whether you like it or not. I suggest that you fix that knot in your panties or I will do it for you.”

She seems serious now. You quickly banish any lewd images that come to your mind and turn quickly to face the entrance in a bid to mask the heat rising up your face. She must have taken that as a sign of acquiescence as she links her arm with yours and gently tugs you toward the turnstiles. She lets out a good-natured laugh.

Halfway through, your cream Burberry trench coat gets caught in the rails. Cursing, you fumble around to free it, pausing briefly only to throw your chuckling companion a glare. She lends her aid and you stumble away from the damned contraption, embarrassed. Your shades do a good job at hiding it, yet you feel the familiar need to salvage your dignity anyway.

“At least I wore sufficient clothes.” That was a blow below the belt and you know it. But it can’t be helped, can it? When threatened, one does the impulsive. After all, it really isn’t your fault for possessing such pride, you tell yourself. Nature over nurture.

You chance a glance at her. It’s obvious she is amused by your snappy tone, as if she knows full well why you’re being so waspish. And if she did know, she sure wasn’t touching on it. You feel strangely thankful.

“Winter doesn’t deter me from wearing a skirt, Rei. Besides, my stockings work just fine.”

Subconsciously, your eyes wander appreciatively over her form but you immediately snap out of it. She mustn’t know you…fancy her. You couldn’t possibly ask for anything more than a friendship. At least you wouldn’t dare to. You rake a hand through your hair irritably. “Come on Minako, stockings barely keep you warm. And it’s simply not practical to wear three-inch-heeled boots to Disneyland!”

That was a half-lie and you cringe inwardly. You know those boots make her look sexy and you hate how it makes you feel. The amount of attention she’s attracting unsettles you. For once you’re honest with yourself, as much as it stings. And since when was practicality your specialty and not Ami’s?

She waves her hand dismissively. “These are Marcs, and it’s all about fashion, Ms Grinch. I’d rather get hypothermia and a shattered ankle than walk out of my house looking like a mangled marshmallow on a stick.”

You laugh at the ridiculous image that pops up unbidden in your head and absently pull her closer, wanting to feel her warmth through her brown, faux-fur bomber jacket.

It was cold before, but it was decidedly better now.

She starts hopping up and down then, while pointing toward a statue of Mickey. You idly wonder how such a feat could have been managed in her boots. Then you roll your eyes, remembering that she wore five-inch stilettos to Makoto’s wedding, the ones which left the carpet ridden with tiny puncture marks where ever she went. Her ankles are accustomed to the torture. You, however, are accustomed to her hauling you everywhere, something which she then proceeds to do towards the beckoning lights behind the arched entrance.

One step in and both of you stand stock still. She in awe, and you in horror.

It wasn’t the humongous Christmas tree smack dab in the centre or the blinding lights that got to you.

It was the shops.

The years have taught you that shopping and a particular blonde go synonymously. The years have taught you that only one of you would survive this. The years have taught you to back away from the myriad of warning signs.

“Rei! What are you doing with the poor balloon man?”

Busted.

Wincing, you slowly straighten up from the awkward half crouch, half crawl position you were in behind the confused man. Your mask of false calm falters slightly when you step away from his cover and instead, you hope you’re able to cover up your failed escape by purchasing an overly large Eeyore balloon, complete with floppy ears and all.

“For me?” Her eyes widen in disbelief, suspicion that was present before melted away into a glint of hope.

You give a hesitant nod.

She smiles radiantly then, and your heart stops for a while. When she skips on with light laughter, tugging you into the first shop by the hand, you find that you’re more willing to face the chaos and pandemonium now.

You’re more willing to face just about anything.

---

It’s about an hour later that both of you step back out into the bustling bazaar packed with pastel-coloured 80’s sort of shops. You stumble out with a couple of purchases in hand and your view of the kaleidoscopic lights partially obscured by fluffy material over an eye. Disorientated, you reach up to yank the offending object off your head – the ridiculously puffy, cotton candy-pink Minnie hat that she forced on you. Your hair’s mussed up now. This is hardly any consolation, let alone a reward, for successfully withstanding the onslaught of vicious crowds. If you didn’t know her better, you’d think it was all planned. But it was just her seizing the opportunity by it’s scruffs to make you look like a fool. The impish grin she sends you says it all. Now you’ve got a bone to pick with her.

Before you can do anything though, she has squashed her cheek against yours and has snapped a picture with her digital camera, its ominous lens facing the both of you. You frown when she shows you the picture: your shades are askew and you look in the midst of managing a suitable expression which is, unfortunately, unsuitable. She however, looks great as usual. You smack her lightly on the head for only capturing the unflattering photos of you. She smiles softly then. You could be wrong, but you think you heard her mumble something about you always looking gorgeous. Nah…

“So where to now?”

The flippant manner in which the question was raised confused you for a moment. While you’re well aware of her talent for revving from Zoned to Perky within seconds, you’d never been hit with Nonchalant after Possibly Flattering. You shrug it off as another new development and stuff the Minnie hat into your shoulder bag. “Any place else but here.”

She seems to consider it for a moment, and then with a rustle of papers, she has the map of Disneyland opened up before her. Her mouth is now pressed into a thin line as she squints and scrutinizes the small print. You decide that it’s quite adorable.

“How ‘bout a rollercoaster? I’ll dare you.” She smirks, looking up from the map, mischief dancing in her cerulean eyes. She thinks she’s got you cornered now, toying with your infamous pride, goading it out and dangling an opportunity at embarrassing her in front of you. And what a tempting opportunity that would be. Yet there runs the risk of losing. Your pride is endangered either way. Her Cheshire smile widens - she knows you’d bite. And you would have too, except that - by some odd twist of luck against the blonde - you realize you have the upper hand here.

She has the darned map held upside down, cluelessly. How typical.

You scoff at her cocky grin. “Find one then. I dare you.”

She looks at you, puzzled. She’s probably wondering what you were driving at. It is times like this that you realize you do, in fact, have the capacity for patience, much more than you credit yourself for. Oh, you’d gladly, willingly wait for her humiliation even if it meant standing amidst throngs of jostling festive visitors.

The seconds tick by and she’s still looking at you, stumped. You pull off your shades deftly and tuck it into your coat. Seems like she needs a little nudge.

She frowns at your bizarre actions, brows furrowing cutely. The map seems to crinkle in anticipation.

Catching her full attention finally with your eyes, you hold her gaze unwaveringly for build up. The twitch at the side of your mouth that threatens to ruin it all. “Or perhaps you would need help with that?”

It’s comical the way her cerulean eyes widen to such large proportions at the traitorous map in her hands, scandalized by its inanimate betrayal. She sputters uselessly before clamming up and huffing like a child. Mirthful laughter bubbles forth from within you before you know it.

You win this time.

There’s an odd sense of satisfaction that you get, the origin of which seems to be divided. Triumph pumps through you, yet there’s something else. Contentment perhaps? Both of you don’t have to admit it, but you do enjoy power challenges, the kind which normally tears relationships apart but only seems to bolster the one shared between you and her.

You don’t understand the rationale behind all this, and it is then that a bolt of clarity strikes you.

There’s no need for answers to everything for what you have with her, no need for deep analysis or evaluations. They just are what they are. The matters of the heart are such curious, inexplicable matters. They should be felt, experienced and explored, and not dug up for surgery and dissection. They should be lived.

All right, enough of this deep shit.

Hino Rei, the philosopher. How cute. Ah, all this philosophical malarkey isn’t all that’s cracked up to be. You think that perhaps Ami is truly starting to rub off you somewhat. The flustered woman in front of you would never let you live it down if she knew what a cheesy romantic you are. Which you aren’t, you tell yourself quickly.

Well, you’ve had your share of fun now. She’s still trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered ego, standing there sulking, looking at anything but you. You are well aware of how that feels like, perhaps even more so for you regard yourself higher than she does herself. A chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head lightly, almost dotingly.

And as expected, there really isn’t an answer that you would willingly accept for the warmth that washes over you.

“Come on,” you call to her gently, so uncharacteristic of you, and when she doesn’t move, you reach out to wrap your hand around her chilled fingers.

“We’ll find that rollercoaster.”

You truly don’t see the point in squealing over bulky, lumbering Disney characters, the concept of which you can’t seem to grasp. Then again, the concept of a childhood wasn’t something you’d known through and through either. Sometimes it seemed as though you had woken up one dismal, gloomy morn as a child and whoosh you were all grown up, looking to the world with eyes ten years too old and ten years too weary. You sigh heavily. So perhaps there’s some form of bitterness that resides within you when you watch her prance around the parade square with her arm linked with one of the Seven Dwarves - Grumpy, you think that’s its name, its grouchy countenance made it a safe guess.

You watch them for a while, the blonde’s crystal laughter tinkling and delighting your ears. She’s so easy to please, it bugs you sometimes. How can anyone be so easily contented? You don’t know how she finds it in herself to be so carefree, (waltzing around the fountain now as Cinderella and her Fairy Godmother approach her to join in. Damn that charisma of hers.) when the both of you have bled in battle, seen innumerable horrors and watched one another coming to close shaves with death again and again and again. As though all of you senshi were gluttons for punishment, pounding on Death’s door eagerly for a response.

You are eternally grateful that it never opened once. Within the context of battles, that is.

Leaning against the decorated lamppost, you dwell on something you remember her saying once after you misunderstood her cheer for evading the responsibilities of a leader. You had confronted her then, accused her of wallowing in the depths of denial of a fear that was but your own - a fear that spoke of duty and of loss. She had said calmly, composedly, with a gentle and understanding smile.

“Even senshi need a break, Rei.”

You vaguely remember being stunned into silence, her uttered words so soft, yet firm in stance. You’d known then that she was the stronger one between the both of you, your anchor and kite string when you were helpless, billowing in the wind, threatening to be torn away by gusts of irrationality. You had been humbled by her simple words, soothing words of assurance that everything was in control, that all of you could still find time for life, laughter, and love.

Life never ended the moment all of you swore to protect the Princess. What you had failed to realize then, was that it had only begun. Never mind that there were always battles to be fought. Because there was always stability in your leader and best friend.

You hold the Minnie hat in your hands now and play with the pink lint. It doesn’t look as bad as it did before. You even consider pulling it on, a faint smile forming on your lips as you imagine the way her eyes would light up and twinkle in surprise. Without denying, you openly admit to yourself now that you do enjoy amusing her. And you would allow your best friend that amusement…

…if the best friend whom you inwardly admire isn’t the same one who is currently heading towards you, Disney characters in tow.

There isn’t so much stability promised now as there is chaos. Personally, you wouldn’t mind if it were one sole dwarf. Perhaps you would even grant a plastic smile for a picture and come to regret it when it is enlarged, framed, and hung up in her room. But acting entertained by five or so fake characters surely wasn’t on your agenda for the day, or for the rest of your life for that matter.

You think that your face is now a portrait of apprehension, bordering on terror. She waves excitedly at you and you shove the hat back into your bag, instinctively tugging your coat tighter against yourself, as if it would make you magically vanish from this scene or shield you from their predatory advance. The joyous Christmas music broadcasted throughout the theme park mocks you. One would think the theme song from Jaws would be more appropriate.

“Rei! Rei! Come, let’s take a picture!”

You find that you’re frozen to the spot, unable to escape as Minion Grumpy latches onto your arm, and with a lurch, tugs you toward the ecstatic blonde. Honestly, what is it with people treating you like a rag doll?

There’s a startling flash of electric blue.

You ruin yet another otherwise proper picture by flailing around, trying to disentangle your arm from the unknown person who is in indirect contact with you. Brilliant. By the end of the day, that scheming woman will have enough hideous pictures with which to blackmail you. It’s a random thought, but you think that camera was bought purely for such a purpose. And you’ve done nothing but unknowingly adhere to all 12 mega pixels of said purpose. Oh joy.

Mind awhirl with images of being trounced upon by creepy Disney characters, you blindly reach out for the blonde – her hair, her arm, anything! – and retreat hastily from them with a forced smile.

“Aww Rei, the parade isn’t even over yet!”

She protests against your hold, which is conveniently on her waist. Her body is so close to yours that fine strands of her hair tickles your neck. The feathery contact is enough for you to realize the intimate position the both of you are in and you snatch your arm back quickly, as if you’ve been burned, face tingling with the approaching blush as you settle for holding her arm instead. “This is Disneyland. The parades never end.”

You feel her wanting to break away from your supervision as you lead her past Santa Mickey and you are almost forced to drag her away in a headlock hold when the both of you near a photo taking session with Pooh. You eye the queue (which bore a striking resemblance to the River Nile), that sprouted from within a hut, scornfully.

“You’re such a killjoy. I should’ve left you with Grumpy,” she huffs and fixes you with an exasperated look, voice getting muffled by the thick scarf she throws on hastily, the winter winds starting to sting. “The both of you would’ve gotten along like…like peas in a pod! Bonded peas!”

Since she has a height advantage thanks to those boots, you’re forced to tilt your head up, face scrunched in incredulity. “Piss in a pot?”

You don’t know what’s more frightening – the bizarre image you got of both you and Grumpy splashing around in excretion, or the seizure-like vibrations you feel as she doubles over, clutching her belly as peals of laughter spill forth.

She’s finally lost it, you conclude.

Stepping away with the intention of distancing yourself from her, you barely resist the urge to throw your hands in the air to declare that: “I don’t know her! I swear!”

She eventually calms enough for the both of you to stumble on to find that rollercoaster. It isn’t long before she starts tugging you on with renewed fervor. And you do what you do best in situations like these.

You follow.

---

You think that it’s about two hours since the both of you entered the theme park.

The queue shuffles on slowly and you feel a mounting trepidation with each successive forward step you take. It won’t be long now.

If only someone had told you earlier that this rollercoaster went about its course in pitch darkness, you would’ve made a detour from joining the queue. Well of course there aren’t any Good Samaritans when you need them. In fact, Judas was right beside you in the form of a particular blonde. She had conveniently left out that important detail before. And as if to make you feel better, she adds in that there will be an endless smattering of stars, so it isn’t total inky nothingness. The ride wasn’t named Space Mountain for nothing.

To pass the time, she’d bought a couple of lemon churros to nibble on. Well actually, she only bought one. The other was given free, courtesy of the resplendent smile she had switched on at the cute counter boy. It was pretty much a rule for her now that ‘With swooning comes freebies’. Then again, that behold-my-boobs manoeuvre she pulled was plain cheating.

Dirty tricks aside, you’d never really known how she did it. All she had to do was waltz into a room and the lights came on, spirits that have forgotten how to live were roused, and laughter coaxed from grim lips. When she smiled, you smiled along, albeit for all the wrong reasons. There wasn’t one single emotion that did not register in yourself when with her, from fear, to embarrassment, and perhaps even to joy. The whole spectrum of emotions was a precarious rollercoaster you had to ride, simply by knowing her.

Sometimes she forgets to give you a breather.

You aren’t really sure when it was that you fell for her, you can’t seem to precisely place a finger on it. Perhaps it was when you watched her flitting from guest to guest at Makoto’s wedding, pleasantly entertaining and charming in that stunning jade dress? Perhaps it was when she had murmured an endearing Rei-chan while asleep beside you the first time she crashed over at the temple? Perhaps it was when she had taken a blow in the chest that was meant for you from that powerful youma, the one that had left her hanging from her thread of life? Perhaps it was none of these moments, perhaps it was all of them.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Perhaps you are just exaggerating this all, likening her to this beacon of light for all mankind because you refuse to acknowledge that she is your beacon of light, because you refuse to admit that in your eyes, she’s all that you’ll never be. You’d rather remain in this limbo of acceptance and denial. There’s no need to shake up your own life unnecessarily. Leave the earthquakes to that girl.

Well, as usual, you are interrupted in your musings, this time by the end of a churro stick tapping against your lips. She pins you with a motherly glare, persuading you to take a bite while sprinkling your front with a dusting of sugar. You have half a mind to bat the sugary stick away, but you don’t. Instead, you give in and close your lips around the offered treat, taking a crunch out of it and tasting her lip-gloss briefly. You make a face at the explosive sweetness. Shouldn’t she know by now that you don’t share her sweet tooth?

She senses your question before you get a chance to state it and waggles a finger in your face. “You were looking a bit sickly. Oh, don’t bother hiding it. I won’t let you chicken out on me now, Rei.”

“Hey, I eat danger for meals!” You swat her hand away and straighten up, fixing her with an indignant glare.

“And oddly enough you panic in the face of bento.”

She dismisses your declaration with a roll of her eyes, mumbling something about you being the worst liar there is. You happen to think you do pretty well at lying; it’s just that she is the only one capable of seeing through your many layers. Blast that woman for turning you transparent. Blast her for pulling that stupid hat on your head again. You refrain from an outburst and decide that you will toss that infernal thing into the Sacred Fire the moment you returned to the shrine.

If you return to the shrine.

The queue is progressing way too slowly for your liking. You feel like begging her to grab a bucket of iced water for the all too familiar warm tingling along your palms. As if she is aware of your distress, she places a comforting hand on the crook of your elbow and assures you that it will be over before you know it.

Those words could not hold any more truth, for you find yourself being ushered to your cramped seat before you know it, one that smelled thickly of that prominent amusement ride smell. Or perhaps quite like a coffin you think, and then tried not to think. The safety bar clicks into place. The sound echoes and resounds in your head with deadening finality. Like a death knell. You place both hands on it, feeling the secured padding that lies over your lap. You try to convince yourself that you are safely strapped down, that you won’t be flung off into oblivion. It is certain that there is no way that you can back out now. Neither is there any way that you can quit halfway, short of breaking all the bones in your body. Your breathing slows, and everything else shifts into white noise.

For a brief, mindless moment, you feel safe.

Then you are lurched forward as it starts. The ride attendant shouts for you to remove your hat and you are barely able to pull it off before the first gust of wind attempts to steal it away. You hardly register the blonde’s excited gasp to your right, too preoccupied with how the platform seemed to fade away rapidly, as though it was never there to start with.

You sit through cutting turns, stomach lurching plunges and heart-stopping twists. You are pulled along in its wild, erratic course, jerking and jolting you about in starry darkness where everything is uncertain, and nothing is remembered. More than once your heart jumps to your throat when a drop comes, unexpected, unforeseen.

There was nothing you could do but to surrender. Surrender to the wind in your face. Surrender to her joyous laughter. Surrender to your inner fears.

Because there was nothing tangible that you could fight.

The car slows to a stop too soon, and you feel the adrenaline still pumping through you, the exhilaration of it all. It leaves you breathless. It leaves you with only hazy memories of sharp turns and drops, but nothing of clarity. You flex your stiff fingers and realize that the furry hat is still clenched in your one of your fists, that you had never let it go not once throughout the insanity. It doesn’t take long for you to realize your other hand was clasped tightly around hers. She smiles cheekily at you, and gives your hand a small, meaningful squeeze. Looking at her now, you realize the ride wasn’t that much different from the ones she gives you, the ones which you can never be prepared for.

Perhaps something had possessed you, that or the coaster had jolted your brain a tad too roughly because you find yourself joining the queue again, this time of your own volition. Of course she’s more than surprised, and you sense the teasing coming up.

The wind whips your hair about again –too soon- and you clutch on to the rail tightly. The ride is as unpredictable as before, yet you’ve learnt how to expect the unexpected and even relish in it, welcoming the danger with open arms. The same course, the same darkness, a different experience. Just when you think you’ve got it memorized, a dip comes when a rise is expected; a turn comes when a plunge is thought to be due.

It is rather frightening, though it isn’t the journey that frightened you. It is the knowledge that you would gladly sit through it again and again, once, twice…

Because it was thrilling

Because it was Minako.

---------

Shhh

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 15:46:01 GMT

SHHH!!

It's funny when you look at "Before and After" pictures of yourself. I looked like a mental fucktard last time. o_0 And no I'm not posting any of those pictures of me. BAH.

Oooh, look at the cute bouncy emoticon! So cute!

Headdesk moments

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 13:04:59 GMT

I read this story I got from an email and I can tell you I was so disturbed by the language and general WTFness of it that I gave up not even halfway through. Yes. I gave up.

I don't know what possessed me to even read till chapter 5.

Here it is. Feel my pain.

http://www.goodybooks.com/ibelieveyou.htm

Like honestly. Cheesy much? If this is the kind of standard that Singapore writers have now, I'm emigrating.

I have to rant about this. I was hurling vulgarities at my computer screen every other line of the story. Not to mention, the dialogues are so dreadful they make wannabe fanfic writers in The Pit shine in a new light. The horror.

I'm supposed to be doing my GP essay now but I just have to get this out of my system.

Take a look at this captivating first line of the story: "I had never expected my first day of school to be so interesting."

I see such sentences in my Primary school essays. There is absolutely nothing to retain my interest except for the morbid fascination of the relationship between the mentally retarded boy and the emo girl.

OMG, is creativity truly dead in this society?!

"He is handsome and can crack jokes really well." Articulate much? We have a charming male here. One who makes cringe-worthy idle talk and poorly constructed 'conversations'. Here's an example from the very first chapter of the damned story.

“What class are you in?”

“03A20”

“Oh my gosh!” he covered his mouth and jumped around like a madman. “We’re in the same class! Can you believe it!? Jacky and Joanna in the same class! How cool is that?”

Why is the knight in shining armour acting like an airheaded bimbo? I can picture him flapping his limp wrist about and flipping his blonde hair over a shoulder. Why on earth, has this story been read by ten thousand over people when I almost couldn't refrain from banging my head onto my keyboard repeatedly during the first chapter alone?

Ok. I feel queasy. I'm gonna go start on my essay now.

Sibei sad history

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 12:39:22 GMT

So today...was the day that I was made to recount an incident almost five years ago. Peachy.

I woke up this morning and Oliver sent me this conversation with A (I do not think that his name should ever grace my journal). As I read the conversation, I didn't know whether to laugh or get pissed. I was left with a mixture of feelings ranging from stunned, to amusement, to apprehension.

Why? You may ask.

Apparently I was meant to be surprised with the presence of an old acquaintance B (an appropriate letter if I may say so myself), whom I knew five years ago. And the person facilitating this meeting is none other than A, who so boldly stepped up to be the middleman of a matter that has been nothing short of a closed chapter in my bountiful life. The book containing that chapter has been closed and I have even proceeded on in life to close many subsequent books. Not chapters. BOOKS. Whereas you, have left that chapter wide open.

Now I can honestly say that I'm not proud of what I did when I was 12, but what I can say is that that incident, has been long over. Piggy and I were foolish, naive. We were 12. I'm sorry to have even involved two of my other friends in that. Granted we did hate B a considerable amount (enough to do what we did without thinking of the consequences), but it's all over now. We've moved on with our lives, entered a secondary institution, and now a tertiary institution. SO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL HARPING OVER THIS?!

It's not healthy, you moron.

A wants to bring B to the class chalet tomorrow in order to, I quote, "clear up some misunderstanding/hate in the past". And the element of surprise is to gauge my reaction, whether I'm still feeling guilty and hatred even now. Here's a tip for you nimrods: I will never fall to your level of humanity to cling on to, and harp over some childish incident in the past. Good grief people, do you honestly think that I'm still wallowing in guilt? Or perhaps even hate? I've moved on with life, and I'm sure as hell a lot stronger than I was five years ago. And what do you have? You are unable to "move on with life peacefully", as quoted from your beloved A's conversation. Well B, don't blame me for making you sound like some wandering ghost, stuck in a perpetual limbo, unable to move on eternally until you clear up past grievances. Blame A.

Also, A says that you're "living in fear".

I'm like....WHAT?!

Oh, I'm sorry that I have such power over your life (even though I haven't seen you in FIVE HUMAN YEARS) that fear may continue to course through your very veins and reign over your pathetic life. Now I'm made to sound like I raped you, or killed your parents. For fuck's sake woman, next time you want to propose a meeting? Make sure your messenger is more capable of putting you in a better light than the sickly one that he did. Don't blame me for having such a poor impression of you still, blame A.

Well A, all I can say is that your effort at aiding B in finding true peace and happiness in her life, to free her from the throes of bondage (non-kinky, and in fact inducing disgust), has failed in its baby stages. So I would suggest that you scrap the idea totally such that the class chalet may go on in proper, happy order. Now, I'm not scared of a confrontation (if one may even call it that), if anything, I'll be there next to the barbecue pit with a steel skewer in hand hollering: "BRING IT ON!".

I've nothing to hide. And I sure as hell won't sugarcoat my words, as you so assume that I would upon finding out this evil scheme of yours, to put myself in a better, dazzling light. I won't hide the fact that I am truly disgusted at such an intention. Obtain the element of surprise in order to catch one offguard and subsequently attain the truth. Where in all nine hells did you ever get that idea? Nancy Drew? The Hardy Boys? How juvenile is that? I can assure you though, there's gonna be no acting, no screaming and no crying on my part. All you will see (if you still choose to go with this ailing plan of yours) is my sword unsheathting from it's scabbard with a steely shriek.

I've gotta say something to you, Mr Mediator: You fail.

Poke your nose into any of my business, let alone my past, and I will cut it off with my sword. This in no way concerns you or your oh-so-noble intentions. If you want to play the prince who saves the damsel in distress, turn back a time of 5 years. Perhaps it would have succeeded then when I could not verbally bash you into the ground.

Furthermore, there is absolutely nothing that requires closure on my part. And I don't see why I have to entertain someone who is unable to finalise an issue of her life that spans five years. None of my business. You want to move on into the afterlife happily and peacefully? Be my guest and search for that yourself. I don't see how talking to me is going to acheive that. Why would I need to spare time and effort into closing something that has been closed for so long already? You need closure? You go find that closure on your own. Nothing to do with me.

Also, A, one can never choose to have all the consequences placed on "his head." While you're "willing to pay for ALL the consequences", it is impossible. Is that fact getting into your thick skull? You're all bull and your actions are shit. Grow up, then come talk to me like an adult. I won't take it lightly if you throw measly building blocks at me.

B, I don't care if you do have a "sibei sad history". If anyone is to have a "sibei sad history", it's ME. You are in no position to claim that I led you to that miserable state you are in right now if you so choose not to climb out of that ditch.

I'm thankful that Oliver disclosed all this information to me. Because if there was no warning whatsoever that there may be a disruption in the class chalet tomorrow, I will ensure that you do not leave with your fragile male ego intact.

If there's anything good to come out of this, it's the knowledge that Oliver stood up for me and will continue to do so when that time comes.

I will make things difficult for you, I promise. You do not leave after crashing my class chalet without scratches.

And I say again: Bring it on.

Tralala

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 09:52:56 GMT

So I've been playing FFVII on my com. Been a bad girl and not do homework. Bah. I get a kick out of selecting to put Aeris and Tifa into the same party when I get to. XD Promotes bonding. Afterall, Aeris/Tifa is easily my next favourite pairing next to Rei/Minako. I think this has to do with the monumental fic regarding this pairing, totally blew me away and left me winded. I must read it again when I find the time.

Well, I've been neglecting my OS as well. You can't blame me. I'm not even halfway done and the fic's close to hitting 4k words. Imagine and 8k word fic in second person POV. I just hope once it's done people don't skip the contents in the middle to the end. It's hard. I mean writing it is fine I guess, just some issues with the flow and all. What's hard is how I had initially planned for both Rei's POV and Minako's POV to be in the same OS, not at the same time (gosh that's brain cell massecre stuff) but half-half. I'm in a dileeemaa!! *Skips around computer*

I've got so many things to do I wanna run away! To the hills! Ooh life's a bitch.

Off to study

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 03:28:03 GMT

So yesterday was my birthday, great excuse for not studying again for another day. So today, I'm off to study, alone. Bah.

Tammie's coming back today! Should I go see her at the airport? Well I could always go eat Popeye's alone...XD

Ok I wanted to post some pictures but something's wrong with the embed. I need a new cybershot phone. Gosh I never did realise how much I LIKED my previous phone now that I'm stuck with a crappy Motorola one.

Right, I realise this post is just me rambling on about random stuff. And I'll stop. Because virtual rambling just...doesn't feel as good as Rambling rambling.

I'm off!!

I have lime green nails.

To hell with this shit

Sat, 31 May 2008 16:03:32 GMT

Sometimes I wonder how it would be like being born in another country, say America. There isn't so much emphasis on studies as there is here. While I understand that being thoroughly educated has manymany perks, I don't think it works the same way by driving students to the brink of a meltdown with so many unecessary things. Like PW. Sure people would disagree with me, saying tha PW helps prepare us for the work life later on, teaches us management, group and social skills. But honestly? Not all of us are gonna be working in office jobs where research (Since Singapore's focus is on the KBE) in labs or so much research in general is needed.

Well at least I find out new things about myself. Like how I'm terrible at disciplining myself if I think something's not worth disciplining myself for. I'm a firm believer in agreeing with the purpose of something before doing it. Like PW, it's so much of a chore. I suppose I do get something out of it, but I just don't see a great purpose in it. Or like Chinese. I personally think as a Chinese, I should learn how to speak my mother tongue well. It's ironic how I'm so much better at English. Chinese now is pointless. Why? Because I think that if one is to learn a language, it shouldn't be compulsory and done out of obligation. Worse still is how every lesson is so focussed on scoring for a test/exam. it isn't interesting anymore. It's just another subject I have to get over and done with for A levels.

I'm so sick of all this academic slog.

Missage

Fri, 30 May 2008 11:39:45 GMT

Tammie's in China now...and I'm missing her! =(

I feel a strange detachment from my school life. I suppose it's normal since I've survived till the holidays and want nothing to do with school anymore. And this is where I announce with dramatic flair: "Alas! Tis not to be!"

Just received an email from Ms Kot regarding an 'exciting' GP holiday homework. Oh look how I'm positively shivering with anticipation. As if PW and the shit!Haunted house plannings aren't enough.

So...with Piggy's help, I have come to the cruel realization that there isn't equality in leadership. Screw those self-help/self-improvement books. Equality is shot as long as leadership exists. Forget democracy and whatnot. Meetings aren't meetings at all. They are, in fact, stress contributors which I seem to be getting a lot of lately. So much for splitting the class up into committees. It's as though I'm running a one woman show. How exciting. It's funny though, how I can feel people wanting to drop everything and take off to the hills (Bukit Timah's the nearest since Singapore has mostly molehills) at the mere mention of a Haunted House meeting. Like it's The Plague.

Gosh.

On a completely random note, isn't my DP the cutest thing on earth?? Ah...Tifa and her massive mammaries. XD Yes, I've skipped on to the Final Fantasy fandoms. FFVII mostly, since it still is the most commercially successful one among the rest (for many obvious reasons). The Tifa/Aeris pairing have seen many mind-blowing fanfictions that I'm tempted to write one myself if not for the fact that all I know about FF is from the fanfics I read. But really, just when I thought I'd read the best of the best, I come upon some authors writing for Tifa/Aeris. Inba I tell you. Excellent plot lines and powerful emotive language. I never had oneshots make me cry before. I...need...more....

RIght. I'm off to write now. Hopefully. Once Ishwar comes online, PW discussions are inevitable. It's strange how I'm taking more time writing a oneshot than the 11000 word chapter I last updated for Lenz's Law. I'm not even halfway done with said oneshot cuz I keep finding sentence or paragraph bumps while reading through again and again and again. Whee.

Oh, look how cute the 'Blank' emoticon thingy is! A bopping, yam-magigy. XD

Grow thyself a brain ye fucktards

Mon, 12 May 2008 14:49:32 GMT

So I'm blogging today though I've a Physics test tomorrow which I have yet to study for because I feel that today was quite the eventful day. Oh wow.

You know, it's just amazing how brainless people are these days. Or perhaps I should specifically mention the current batch of jc1s.

Why, for the love of all sanity, must you keep yabbering on when clearly the lecturer is waiting for silence? Why, pray t ell, must you blatantly ignore the lecturer standing in front? I simply cannot comprehend. Sure, I agree that asking for absolute silence upon entering the CC is impossible. But must you morons take more than 10mins to settle down, and another 5 to lower your chatter by a decibel? It really does show how mature you all are when you have to wait for Mr Leong to shout to shut up immediately then complain about how unnecessarily harsh he was afterwards. Like, what?

It's all about respect you sorry excuse for teenagers. Respect for the lecturer, who not only is of higher authority than you are, but also another person deserving of respect. Respect for the people around you who are waiting for the lecture to start, who are also - most probably - on the verge of maiming your sorry asses into the lecture chairs with dense ring files. I know I was about to.

"When I go to Heeren, you will be the kind of people who will be manning those shit piece of shops! When I go to a petrol kiosk, you will be pumping my gas!"

There. He insulted us. But wait, not all of us. Just those dumbfucks who refuse to show respect where it's due. And who refuse to somehow put in the conscious effort into listening during lectures. You want to sleep? Fine. You want to talk and laugh as though you're in a bloody coffee shop? Think again you nitwits.

"Lower life forms have more energy than you."

Honestly? Why must you sleep during such an important lecture regarding Application Question? Actually, I don't think Mr Leong should even bother with invertebrates like you. You are a mindless waste of space and time, you do nothing more than fill in the gaps in the CC and you are as useful as my old, dead, iRiver mp3 player lying on my desk.

"Look at those two, whispering sweet nothings into each other's ear." / "Oh be still my beating heart."

I didn't even turn around to look at said people. I was busy laughing.

Of swirls and curls

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 13:59:33 GMT

It's strange. Really.

While it takes a drastic incident, say almost tipping into the Kallang canal, for a person to think through about his or her life, it takes me only blog surfing. No not the scanning through hundreds over a span of hours kind. I'm talking about the kind where curiosity (and perhaps the desire to do anything but study) takes you by the neck and hauls you into a few choice blogs that you could've lived not reading.

So I stumbled onto a few. And I looked at the lives these people were living. I was then struck mercilessly by a sudden bolt of clarity - My life is boring.

While I can expand on this emotional epiphany, I won't. Simply because as boring as I think my life is, I don't have time to spruce it up. I don't. Hell, I don't even have time to chat with my best friend, ask her how's things been, made any new friends lately, how're you coping?

Great. I feel like crawling into a corner and curling up to sulk. And there would preferably be a considerable pile of pebbles with which I can vent my frustrations out by chucking them at the objects of my misery.

It's strange.

But well, I suppose my life is the way it is solely because I'm pretty much an introvert. Have always been. It's just that I've been encountering people who unknowingly coax me out of my shell. Oh I have to give credit to Tammie for doing most of that job for the past three and a half years. Couldn't have done that any better than blasting me outta my cacoon with a fireassed kick in the rump. It's a good thing. Love you babe.

Which gets me thinking...maybe I am bipolar. Or at least schizo. Who on earth has a play list of songs in their ipod ranging from heavy metal to jpop? Who, in all nine hells, loves chattering away non-stop for hours and being alone the entire day? Gosh...maybe I need therapy. I'm super man at times...yet real girlie the next. I'm full of energy, prancing around the class, and then I'm wasted while I sit and try to keep above the rising tides of exhaustion. I'm social and friendly one moment, then I'm hostile and bitchy the next.

It's strange.

Meh...I've quit waterpolo to give myself more time to discover myself, sort myself out and prioritise my issues, thinking that perhaps on the offchance I would find time to continue writing once again. I haven't. I can say that I am happier though. I know I would've been unhappy if I had stayed on.

Blah. Enough being emo. I want more Tifa/Yuffie fanfiction!!! =((( Gosh. I'm such a fangirl.

When speech eludes you

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 14:04:25 GMT

School has been a bitch. Still is.

I can't comprehend how the seniors made it past their first year, only to fall head first into a freshly dug grave the second year. No, really. I'm surprised that they look alive. All the news I'm getting from them are Block Tests, Block Tests and more Block Tests. Common sense tells me to be grateful that I only have one measly test that spans five chapters next week, uncompleted assignments that were due last century and subjects that sound like Elvish.

I'm exaggerating. Relax. I'm still sane.

But still, I feel like I'm being driven to breaking point, which says a lot since I didn't even feel this way while studying for O's. Come to think of it, I'll be happy to take it all over again if it means I don't have to slave away like a Saint. The irony. And if JC life is like a rite of passage, is it too late to join a tribe where they just pierce something? Or cut something off? Because I suppose I could do without a limb. Or two.

But oh, Gushi's been cheering me up, granted in all the wrong ways but it's working so I'm not complaining. Just today she was close to pinching my cheeks till they turned purple and I quote: "OMG Christine your feet are so small! YOU are so small!". At this point I was gradually backing away from the flailing gestures she directed towards my *Ahem* small feet, with good foresight as well might I add, because she then continued, "I feel like putting you into a bottle and taking you home! I'll make sure I give you water and food and poke many many air holes so that you can breathe!" As much as I am thankful that you're mindful of my well-bring, no thank you Gushi. One more thing, if my feet weren't small, then I would be inproportionate don't you think? Like I would look like a duck, waddling around, trying not to trip over my size 14 shoes or something. LIKE A CLOWN. Eww. I'll probably redefine the name of Bigfoot. XD

Ah, the wonders of people as crazy as you.

I've been running out of good fics. Or maybe I should say I've been running out of time to even search for good fics. I want to write. People have been favouriting Lenz's Law even if my last update was eons ago. If that isn't inspiration then I don't know what it is. I can feel the creative juices sloshing around inside my head, begging and pleading to be let out, to run amok a little. I am torn. Oh the torture of gritting my teeth while I do tutorials - or at least attempt to - and inadvertently shutting off the thing I love to do most.

Cruelty. Oh JC life reeks of the damned thing.

I've had plans for this oneshot that I want to write. In fact I've penned down these plans. All that's left now is actually writing it, trying to fit it in my non-existant life. *sigh* What to do?

And I think I'm bipolar or something. I go high over the strangest things, roti prata for example, and the next moment I could look like I'm about to slit someone's throat. Awesome. So now I'm virtually approaching a meltdown.

On a lighter, maybe worrying note, I read this while being naughty and neglecting my work : 'The girls made their way to where the Rei does her archery practice by riding a taxi.'

I looked like this for a moment--> O.O

Firstly, I had an extremely vivid image of Rei, raven hair fluttering in the wind, drawing back the string of her bow expertly while her violet eyes locked onto a target - a stop sign. All the while crouching atop a yellow cab. Not cool. Is this the twisted, modern version of target practicing on horse back? Except now it's while riding public transport and the targets are innocent road signs. I burst out laughing, bad. Just picture a taxi zooming in and out of traffic, a priestess with a bow in her hands a quiver on her back, launching arrows with rapid succession, each embedding itself into a glaring, red, stop sign.

Secondly, you don't ride a taxi. No one else does either. If anything, they would be seated inside and not on top. People ride a horse. And I'd like to think that they don't do Jackie Chan stunts on a daily basis.

It took me all of three times of re-reading the sentence before I realised what the author meant.

Last one: 'The old woman waived her hand'.

Start mine eyes. (Waive: To give up (a claim or right) voluntarily; relinquish.)

This is what katze_cheshire had to say about it:

The old lady signs the paper with a heavy pen, script shaky and fragile, just like her. She looks at the expressionless man in front of her with sad eyes, unyielding in his pressed suit before she slides her hand over to him.

"Here, it's yours now."

XD

Anyhoo, homework is calling. Imagine a sheet of paper beckoning to you with a sinister corner, and if it had a mouth, it would probably sound like Chucky.

Mic test...

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 13:50:14 GMT

My new livejournal account...ok now to figure out how this works...