Of Bunnies and Birthdays.

So, you’re in the shower, or stuck in traffic, or brushing your teeth, minding your own business when the bunnies attack. Sometimes they’re cute and fluffy. Sometimes they’re dark and slinky. But they are always interesting, different, original, and attention-nabbing, in your opinion of course. And for some reason, they are always so much much MUCH better than the bunnies that attacked last.

What bunnies am I talking about, you ask?

The plot bunnies! Wheeeeeeee… Those shiny new ideas that make you stop suddenly in the shower, jump out, grab the nearest tube of lipstick/eyeliner/vial of blood and start writing things down anywhere you can find a relatively flat surface.

And then you go off and finish your day. You let the idea stew in your mind, you let the writing become permanent in the bathroom or your car dashboard and think about investing in a dry erase white board to have surgically attached to your arm.

After some thinking you decide the idea is good enough, (the idea not the investment) you have time (ha!) and more importantly, you really really REALLY want to do it. So, you sit down and try writing this plot bunny into a story, spewing out random strings of words you link together into paragraph after paragraph of fractured ideas and  unencumbered words and then, you realize that you don’t have it all worked out. There are the details and the finer points, little kinks, loose ends and every idea is coming at you faster than Santa high on Prozac on Christmas Eve and you are heels over head overwhelmed.

So, what do you do?

You sit down with a pencil or a pen or whatever lead/ink churning object you can get your hands on and you start plotting. Not the mass takeover of the world that you’ve had festering in your mind for ages, but the plot, the themes, basic outline, the characters, characteristics, specific events and basically the whole outline of the plot bunny turned story.

You let the details stew in your head, obsessing over it for hours at a time as it grows tendrils and roots and permanently coils itself in the very core of your brain and you wait for the stroke of genius, the grand finale, the final grasp of insight to tie it all together. And after days, probably even weeks of unhealthily obsessing, incessant fact scouring, and a dozen different set of circumstances and plot lines.. It is done and voila! Time to churn out the words, the pages, the chapters; the Actual story.

Except more often than not, I vastly overestimate myself and realize that I Don’t Actually have the time to write it all out.

Because I was so caught up on inspiration mode (Finally you’re back! How I’ve missed you!) that I missed this second thing that hid behind the wings. Reality. And when reality hit, it hit cold and hard, just as promised, like a hidden past that comes back to haunt you, biting hard in the ass.

And like all the other bunny attack moments, I plotted and mulled and probed and prodded my brain, squeezing out every last drop of what I could before realization dawning upon me that I do NOT in fact have the time to write this all out unless the days had suddenly drown several hundred extra hours for me to do as I will.

But the high was good while it lasted I suppose, for all of last week where I was swamped at work over an event, my mind was buzzing with ideas at the same time, forming scenes in my head, other stories arcs to add, different ways to add to the plot lines, the whole she bang. Boy was I like the energizer bunny in those ads that just keep going and going and going. And I loved every second of it.

Because truth is, I haven’t been inspired in a while. Far too long I think. I almost didn’t recognize what this seismic brainwave looked like when it came pelting at me right at me. Almost. Because they assault you from virtually nowhere, lingering stealthily in the shadows, creeping into your peripheral vision, and then slapping you right on the face. But I had fortunately caught on before it hit me smack in my face breaking my nose and/or bruising my eye socket.

The plain simple sad truth is that I haven’t written a single word in ages. For the simple uncomplicated reason that I haven’t been inspired by anything in ages. And when inspiration comes A-knocking, what do I do? Vomit it all out only to stow it away for a ‘till I have time.’ And when I do have the time, like say right now, where I have (not really) no work thrown at me in a pace I can’t even keep up with, I’m uninspired.

In all honesty, I haven’t written in so long that I’m beginning to feel a little worried. What if I can’t do it? What if I suck at it? I’m worried I lost something I had back in high school – talent, integrity, a voice. I don’t know. Something.

*Sigh..

This is a joke. This must be a cosmic joke.

Life DOES have a sense of humor after all.

And I know this because I’m her go-to person when she wants a good guffaw.

Wow, do I sound like a depressed homicidal teen again or what. Maybe it’s cause I decided to actually get it over and done with and read New Moon and Eclipse (which I shall return to their rightful owner now that I’m done with them) feeling stupider overnight with the overused of the phrases, spineless characters, stagnant personalities, excessive clichés and stale commentary drawled out over hundreds of pages.  I got through about 10 pages and wanted to blow my brains out, so I stopped perusing and started skimming through the many many words and pages instead.

And I suppose that could be reason enough I am so entirely brain dead and border lining suicidal but it could the blues of December 3rd catching up to me again.

Yes, ladies and gents, it is That time of year again. And this year, I gave my half baked enthusiasm a half baked shot and like I always do, got a cold hard undesired reception. So I’m scraping the idea completely now. I’ve given up really. No more December 3rd’s for me. The years are now going to pass with me NOT commemorating my sorry ass turning a year older.

No more celebrations. And no more attempts either.

I’m done now, cause the world obviously doesn’t like the idea of me being happy on the one day I’m allowed to be happy so I’m thinking Fuck it, why bother anymore with anyone else anyway, I’ma do what I want and the hell with everyone else, so hah! Take that, bitch!

I think I’ve discovered the secret of life – you just hang around until you get used to it.
-  Charles M. Schulz

Octopus? Octopi? Several Octopus?

Cause I promised and I’m random like that. Some other pictures will be up when WordPress and Life stops being such a bitch to me.

“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “lives a Hatter: and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.”
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”
- Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll.

It Bothers Me That It.. Doesn’t Bother Me?

So the other day, or night, or you know morning, I had this really long talk with a new acquaintance and there were so much that we talked about that I don’t quiet even remember how or why I mentioned I used to dance.

And I think what happened was he mentioned I don’t look like a dancer because they usually have a certain physique. Now, obviously, this is a little surprising to me as I’ve had strangers asking me if I’m a dancer cause I walk differently. Apparently more graceful or I don’t know, poised (?) And I’ll never know why cause really, who would you find that trips over her own legs and end up twisting her knee right?

But anyhow, I said something along the lines of I used to be really skinny but I guess now I’m not anymore cause I stopped dancing and hence stopped exercising and gained weight and he mentioned that to be completely honest, I’m probably a little above average.

You’d think that I’d throw a fit, don my running shoes and go jog myself from now till 100 pounds lighter or do a gazillion sit ups for being hinted as above average but strangely, it didn’t quiet bother me as I thought it would.  I mean, I don’t usually care what people think of me, I really much prefer my current physique no matter what people keep saying, but to be said that I’m ABOVE average? You’d think a girl would take offence in that but no… I did not.

What bothers me however is that it doesn’t bother me.

What bothers me is that something that should bother me does not.

Petty things people say like that normally don’t bother me for the simple fact that I really don’t give a shit of what people think but somewhere inside it would hurt and sting, somewhere inside, something would be stirred, I’d start thinking, but this time.? It did not. At all.

And this isn’t the ONLY thing.

I’ve been told very recently as well that I should give up because it seems I’m only trying to prove a point. Or that if I don’t see a future in it, that if I can’t see anything coming from it, I should just give it up and avoid all the messy-ness and save myself the time and the trouble. Or that I should find out if it is worth pursuing and pursue it if it is or just let it go if it isn’t.

But the thing is, I am so perfectly content right here, right now that what people are telling me, what people are saying, it doesn’t bother me at all.

Trouble in the making? Maybe.. But as of now I really don’t care.

Maybe I’ve attained a whole new level of Charles Barkley Zen-ness. Hee hee..

I don’t care what people think. People are stupid.
-  Charles Barkley

Midnight Wandering Wonderings.

I’ve been thinking a lot of late. Or rather wondering would be the more specific term. And it happens mostly in the middle of the night, when I try to sleep and there’s a still silence around me. Of course, the silence is completely one sided as in limited my external surroundings only as I cannot for the life of me just shut my mind off. Slowly and surely, I’d drift off to sleep with my mind still actively doing the hula and I end up dreaming of how you taste like coffee instead of sin which you probably do, and see how that happened again, my mind just slid off course again. There’s just been a lot of thoughts in my head and the amount of things that are on my mind that I think of, that I wonder about that I find it hard to be coherent when I’m supposed to be writing it all out in this word vomit. Not that I’ve always been famed for my coherency anyway, but I find it hard to centralize everything and link it to one topic, one specific theme or subject because it’s all just really really scattered. I know, I know, I promised that’d you’d be reading about it soon but I just really can’t bring myself to type up all the jumbled masses of thoughts in my head. Because I start at one place, like how I always thought Brucas was the ultimate OTH couple and suddenly I’m thinking about lobsters and well, I’d rather not mention it here but then I’d end up wondering how on earth I’d even ended up at lobsters and.. things to start with. You’d think with so much noise and unnecesary clutter in my mind that I should be bursting with ideas and inspiration right? But nope. Not how it works apparently. And I cannot bring myself to paragraph this either, thus is how jarbled up my mind is.

There must be more to life than sitting wondering if there is more to life.
-  Unknown.

Deluded.

There are times when I don’t feel like a total incompetent ignorant moron.

Like when I meet Mr. Dude in the elevator, and have an interesting conversation about politics (because I’m holding a paper with a front page of the screwed up politics in homeland dearest) when I’m a total politics dummy and manage to highlight several finer points in the situation with my thoughts and what I think of the matter all within an elevators ride.

Or like when I have a good exchange of to-read book lists with Ms. Interesting in the book store and walk away with the information that I contributed to someone’s life somehow in someway by mentioning some very (in my opinion) noteworthy authors and books.

Or like when I have a D&M with some friends over a cup of Milo Ice or in my room over cards and go to bed at night thinking that I made some valid points and had somehow been somewhat thought provoking.

Or like when I meet interesting people in college and hold my own in whatever conversation we are having and not feel like and absolute petrified social awkward moron.

At such times, I Don’t feel all that helplessly stupid.

At times like this I Don’t feel all that ignorant and and and.. UN-deep.

At times like this, I Don’t feel limited and fatally flawed and a far grasp from good enough.

But then I HAVE to go and do this and make myself feel absolutely self-esteem zero all over again. Maybe I’m some sort of masochist who’s haplessly addicted to my own pain. Maybe. Or maybe I’m just psychologically defective like that, always finding a way to feel not pretty enough, not smart enough, not good enough, not worthy enough, just.. Not. Enough. Maybe. I don’t know.

But the fact is, reality bites, always. When you least expect it. And when you have a glimmer of happiness for a moment thinking that you ARE enough, as promised, it bites you in the ass, cold and hard and you realize that those times in the mamaks and online forums, book stores, and elevators, or wherever you were stupid enough to believe it, you only delude yourself into thinking that you actually are somewhat somehow able to be thought provoking, and deep and not totally ignorant and stupid.

Every time, without fail, just when I’m feeling good enough about myself in some way, something like this comes along, (or rather I seek it out, like I said, masochist, or if you rather, insane) and happens and I’m reminded I am NOT interesting. I am NOT all that deep after all and I am just NOT all those things I manage to make myself believe I am. I’m just NOT enough, period.

But because I’d like to think that I’m interesting in some way, that I am somewhat insightful, that I am not that whiny, a class, gold medalist complainer who’s opinion should be discarded because it’s not worth the time of the day OR night, that I am in at least ONE way enough, I’d be proven oh so wrong. Again.

I suppose I’m just deluded like that.

I’m gonna crawl back into that hole now.

You need boundaries, between you and the rest of the world. Other people are far too messy. It’s all about lines. Drawing lines in the sand and praying like hell no one crosses them.
- Grey’s Anatomy

Friends.

The ones who love you when you don’t deserve it.

The ones you love as well when they don’t deserve it.

The ones who will help you keep the parking ticket and then lose it for you and blame you for giving them the ticket.

The ones who stop you from going up the down escalator.

The ones who stop you from entering the gents and promises never to mention it to anyone and yet tells everyone anyway.

The ones who you call the night before to wake you up the next day when you cannot be late.

The ones who you can wear a baggy tee, smelly old cargos, be walked by dogs and honked by passing by horny truck drivers with and not mind.

The ones who break your doorbell and then have the guts to ring on it loudly every time they swing by again.

The ones who wander aimlessly in the parking lot with you trying to locate your car.

The ones who tell you what a G-Spot is when you ask and then laugh about it.

The ones who you just hang out with watching stupid parodies and lame ass banned commercials with.

The ones who pulls you out of the hole when you’ve fallen into it for the umpteenth time.

The ones who tells you to ‘get over yourself, bitch’ when it’s time for hard lovin’,

The ones who tell you your music sucks and you tell them right back and still hang out and listen to each others ‘crappy’ music.

The ones who you can sit in the car and talk about things that you don’t even remember a day after anymore.

The ones who make it hard to stay angry at them.

The ones of whom you take stooied retard photos with which are never to be ousted to others.

The ones who I have so much more to say about, so much more experiences that I’ve shared with that I can’t even begin to TRY to list them all out.

Because they’re the people in your life you’ll always find your way back to.

Just feeling slightly evocative. Slightly.. Okay, so maybe quiet A LOT.. So sue me.

Even when we’re miles and miles apart. You’re still the one holding all of my heart.
- Inseparable, Jonas Brothers (They actually DO have some nice songs okay!)

When Serial Killers Come Together.

Because I am lifeless like this, I shall type out as best to my memory serves, a certain conversation, or some part thereof, with a certain someone, or rather my ‘dad’, which I would have under very different circumstances would have found somewhat disturbing.

D – And you take out their still beating hearts because it’s a delicacy.

(I think I may have referred to myself as a serial killer of some sort at a point of the conversation)

M – Mmm hmm.. And pull out their finger nails to keep as prized trophies.

D – Hehe. Yea, and what are you gonna do with their penises?

M – Well, that’s your area of expertise, why don’t you tell me?

D – Oh well, you should make full use of the poor teenage boys body right?

M – What do you suggest then? As far as serial killer fathers go, you should be imparting some valuable torture advice.

D – No no, I don’t do small boys. I’m straight. Smalls girls will do.

M – Hmm.. You don’t have to pretend. I know you like your fair share of little boys.

D – Hehe. Na, but I only target little girls. And I be a little necrophilia too.

M – I knew you had a letter fetish and a tendency for whips too, but I didn’t know dead things did it for you.

D – Hehe. You know I’m joking.

M – Actually with you I can’t tell anymore. But personally I prefer handcuffs.

D – Oh, you like being dressed up in handcuffs?

M – That was a joke too, really, you’ve lost it.

D – I was joking too, secretly knowing that you’re not joking.

M – Watever makes you happy my dear old pedophilic, masochistic, necrophiliac, leather attached, whip wielding, sadistic psychokiller of a ‘father’

And well, yea, we went on for a bit more like that. But Clearly, I have a real awesome ‘dad’ no? Ahahaha.. I think we’d make a good pair of serial killers, don’t you think? Hahahaha.. I really need to find new friends because as amusing as it is to have conversations like this, somehow,  think somewhere out there in a virtual conversation box there are 2 dudes having a similar conversation or maybe even comparing notes and they are probably not kidding. But moving on..

On a totally separate note though, I’ve just been wondering, how unavailable do you have to be to be allowed to change your status from ‘single’ to ‘it’s complicated’? How complicated it is allowed to be before you realize that you actually are “in a relationship’?

Because really, I’m-single-but-not-exactly-available doesn’t quiet roll of the tongue now does it? And it’s-too-complicated-but-we-both-stick-around-anyway-with-one-foot-in-this-so-we-kinda-are-in-a-relationship-but-not-quiet on the other hand is a real mouthful.

So what I’m trying to say is, one can’t exactly help but wonder what the appropriate term for a situation like this be?

You know, it would be a lot easier if there was a rule book for all this. I mean, I’m not exactly a rules rules person per say but it would be nice if there were to be SOME sort of a guideline to follow. Some ground rules to base things upon. Now that would REALLY make things a lot less.. Complicated..

But then again, it’s stupid really. For Anyone at all to think that relationships can be anything but sticky and complicated. Because relationships are messy, period. That’s their nature, they start messy, and they end messy, and everything in between is gonna be messy and maybe if I want to ever have a relationship at all, I should stop worrying about the mess.

Or maybe I should not even think of this as a relationship at all.

Or maybe I should do something about it, take a chance, risk it all, for everything within reason of course.

But then again, you can’t exactly up and run and decide to do everything ‘within reason’ because there really is no way of being practical about something like this. Because as romantic as the notion and thought is, those are the little pieces of unreality that we’re not meant to base our lives on. Eventually we always have to come back and deal with the real world.

Which is absolutely true as well but then again, it is a fantastically beautiful notion.

Which is why maybe I should just hold on to the fantasy and keep it as just that. Because it all seems so beautiful now but reality has a way of biting us in the ass when we least expect it, so maybe I should keep it just the way it is, beautifully imperfect.

And… I think I just had a 4 way conversation with myself and yet NOT come up with a conclusion.

God, really, what IS a matter with me?

I need to stop listening to what others tell me and start forming all this thoughts, me thinks..

But then there lies another problem see, because how much exactly are you allowed to care about what is appropriate and what others think about it to let it influence what you feel and think?

So overwhelmed by the ocean’s shapeless form.
- Storm, Lifehouse

I Have No Idea What Is Wrong With Me. REALLY.

With that title, you gotta wonder, what this is gonna be about. And seriously, it’ll surprise you cause heck, it surprises me. Cause the other day I heard these 2 jokers on the radio,

A : You know Kevin Jonas from the Jonas Brothers? The one that looks like he got punched in the face?

B : The one that didn’t get the pretty gene? Yea.. Why?

Now, you see I was driving and man… Suddenly, this irrational irritation just came from no where! Like Poof. I was driving and the next thing I know I was groaning, Oh, COME ON…..! It was just mean and uncalled for. I think I might have actually yelled, but then again I was in the car far from the recording studio so it doesn’t really matter here, but the thing is, COME ON PEOPLE….!

Did you know his full name is actually Paul Kevin Jonas II? And did you know that Paul is a four letter name for a gentleman? That if you go to a dictionary, it means something? From Roman it means ‘humble’, but to others the word means ‘handsome’. But to everyone else in this world, he’s Kevin. The other not so good looking Jonas.

The one who DOESN’T hear his name screamed out in concerts when he plays his heart out, and breaks a sweat with his guitar skill on the stage?

I know, I know, Nick plays too… But who does it for 2 hours straight only stopping for a intermission between the songs. From 2005 to now, there’s been one guy who stands on stage, in the back, on the left. That’s Kevin. Paul Kevin Jonas II. The hazel eyed brown curly haired boy, who is famous for his love for guitar and the band. Everyone sees him, but no one knows him. Everyone ignores him. Those tweens and stupid girls go around screaming “I support the Jonas Brothers” and “I love the JoBros,” but does that include the oldest? The 21 year old, who only hears “Joe is SO sexy!” or “Nick is so hot!” What about him? People only go “His chest hair needs to be shaved!” or “His sideburns are really tacky!” or “Oh, he’s gay,”

Really, would you like it if you were teased because of your looks? If you were pushed and shoved in interviews, because you’re the older brother?

Step into Kevin’s shoes for a minute. Waking up at 4 a.m to head to a brand new city on the tour. Walking out of the tour bus, with thousands and thousands of fans standing there. “I LOVE YOU JOE!” “I LOVE YOU NICK!” “OH MY GOD!” But Kevin just smiles, and waves. He’s being ignored. Well maybe it’s not that bad. He gets dressed in his dressing room. Hears thousands of screaming girls. Steps up on the stage, and smiles. Begins the introduction of a song. Then the lights hit them, and then hits the audience, what does he see? Nick and Joe lover signs. How would you feel? He’s dragged down, but what does he do? Quit being a Jonas brother?

No. So stop it people. Stop stop stop.

I really.. You know what, I don’t even know why I’m getting so worked up. I mean, I’m not particularly attached to the Jonas Brothers, am not in any way even near being a fanatical fan or an avid supporter. But honestly, it just bugs me.

It just gets me worked up thinking about the people who are all “Nick is soo dreamy,” and “Joe is soo hot,” when Hello! There is another Jonas in that same band that you’re forgetting you know!

Whoa. Hokay. Was that random or what? And I don’t even know what prompted this. Haha.. Maybe I’m just wa-a-a-a-ay too bored at work. Bleh. And I know I know, I can just see you rolling your eyes at this post because I basically vented at you about it already but hey, you weren’t exactly all ears or rather eyes when I vented now were you, I can tell. And no, don’t ask how, I just can. *nods. So leave a comment this time or I kill you! Lol..

But on a totally different matter however, I do have another post coming. I can feel it. And it’s soon too. Maybe today itself. Or even tomorrow. Heh.. We’ll see.

We hate some persons because we do not know them; and will not know them because we hate them.
- Charles Caleb Colton

Happiest Hello. Hardest Goodbye.

I’m back! Yup, I’m updating quiet a lot, I know! I’m proud of me too. But it’s all emo and angsty due to recent events, but you’ll have to deal with cause I had another one of my bestest girl friends leave last week and I’m dealing with a lot shit right now so see that little red box at the corner? Yeah, you start dragging your cursor to that end if you’ve got a problem with that.

So… Alright, still with me? Okay.

So I’ve been feeling.. Neglected. Of sort.

Ignored. Overlooked. Disregarded. Forgotten. I’m not sure exactly which word to use because I’m not sure what would best describes the way I’m feeling, but All of the above actually sounds pretty good.

There’s this constant war raging between my head and my heart and more often than not, I ignore my gut instinct, or what little self preservation it urges me to have, and my head, the advocate of rationality, and go with my heart which is just stupid because my heart seems to just be that stupid to make the same mistakes over and over again.

I don’t know why really my heart seems to be so keen on handing out chances for people after seeing for a fact that second, third, fourth chances all result in the same.

Disappointment. Frustration. And disillusionment.

I really am sick of one sided friendships, relationships, or whatever you call them. I’m done with sitting around waiting for you to feel like being there for me. This time, I’m going with my gut and my head and saying screw it, I’m moving on or rather in the words of the awesome Rejects whom I watched LIVE btw, move along, move along, move along.

I know, this sounds like a total 180 from the ‘I’ in People You Just Keep Coming Back To, but you see, it’s not hard on her because she knows that they’d see each other again. She just…feels it. In her soul, in her bones, in her heart. She could smile and shrug casually and carry on, keeping faith that their paths will cross again and they’d end up in each other’s lives again.

But that’s just the thing. That’s not me. That’s just someone who was constructed in my mind, a figment of my imagination that will never be me. Because in People You Just Keep Coming Back To, when he would walk away, or when she would push him away, she was always certain that they’d meet again. That he’d come back. Or she’d seek him out again. Always.

Me? I’m just not that certain, not like she is. Goodbyes are the hardest for me. Because some goodbyes are forever. And you’re left to deal with whatever that’s left behind, ie; you, yourself and yourself. But I know that the pain goes away. Wounds heal. And time washes away everything. So maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to make this decision. Because I’m holding on to the hopes that I can still have something instead of going through all that and have nothing at the end of the day.

But I am here now, and I say no, I’m not waiting around pouring so much of myself into this where you just don’t give a flying fuck about me back. So I’m thinking if you just can’t take the effort to want to be there for me back, then screw you.

Now now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘Whoa, aren’t you being just a bit jaded here? It sounds a bit drastic, doesn’t it? Pushing everyone away,”

Well, see, I’m not pushing Everyone away. I’m pushing people who don’t care away. Because I DO have other friends who’ve shown me that they do care and they’re here to stay whether they’re here or miles and miles away in Aussie, or the U.K or the U.S. even. So really, I’m not waiting round for you to decide that you shall be my friend today because you have the time for it today, because you feel like it today. Because there Are people who’ve chased me when I ran. People who’ve broken down walls when I built them up. People who’ve pushed back when I pushed them away.

But for us, I’m done doing the chasing and breaking. I think I’ve proven myself enough. Your turn.

And you’re thinking we’ll be fine again, but not this time around.
- You’re Not Sorry, Taylor Swift

Utter and Absolute Random-ness.

All it takes is just a song sometimes.

I fell all over again with just one song.

I cried with just one song.

I laughed with just one song.

I wrote nearly 2 Thousand words with just one song.

Yeah, so okay, I’ll admit it, I’m beginning to think maybe I am a little crazy. Haha.. But just a little..

Anyway, I just thought I’d drop a line after my hell of a roller coaster ride week, before someone kicks my ass for posting nothing but password protected bitch fits, emo rants, and stories. (You know who you are! The nerve of you texting me threatening messages when you don’t update yourself and then trying to butter me up on your blog when I pointed out that you haven’t updated either.)

So yeah, I’m updating and you’ll have to excuse the incoherency really, like I said, roller coaster ride week, it messes with your head you know.. So Anyway.. I was at work and I overheard this conversation between, eh.. Let’s say Mr. A and Ms.B, shall we, okay, so Mr. A says to Ms. B, with much enthusiasm and interest too I must add,

“Heyy.. You have Twilight!”

And of course, being a loyal Twilight hater, my ears perked to listen in on this conversation. Then Ms. B said to Mr. A,

“Why wouldn’t I have Twilight?”

“You just don’t seem the type,”

“The type?”

“Who reads,”

Then as Mr. A starts sniggering, Ms. B defends herself with, wait for it, here’s the punch line..

“I read romance what.. And Twilight’s a love story..”

I know I know!! I was thinking, Dude! It’s not romance.! And it sure as hell is not a love. It’s obsession. It’s insanity. It’s unhealthy insane obsession set on impossible unreal circumstances where at the end of the day everyone gets exactly what they want without paying for it and lives happily ever after.

Well of course, I didn’t say that out loud. I really like my internship and would not want to get fired based on random outbursts and therefore be suspended from college but yeah. I mean, utter rubbish man. And to think Stephenie Meyer’s been compared to Jo. King Rowling. I believe Stephen King said it best when he said ‘the difference between Jo and Stephenie Meyer is that Jo can actually write,”

Haha.. I’m sorry any Twi-Lovers out there, but I was just never really into the whole ‘saga’ as you call it. Maybe years and years and years ago, perhaps even eons ago, I may have gotten all into it, maybe, but as of now, say Twilight and I’m afraid I’ve to excuse myself to go throw up.

Anyhoo, I think this is a pretty decent update for now. I foresee a long post in the near future which would be parked under the think tank. Been somewhat Thought-Full of late.

Oh and I wanna take a little poll, please do help a girl out here because today, I was texting daddy dearest, *cough* Peck Yun *cough cough* and I think I happened to mention something along the lines of Megan Fox being on the bike for 5, 10 minutes longer in Transformers 2 when he HYPOTHETICALLY mentioned that had the movie involved Megan Fox dry humping the bike instead, both my MALE and FEMALE friends would have swarmed the theaters. Don’t even ask, I have no idea what point there was in our conversation, but the question is, cause I would really like to know,

Would you have gone to watch Transformers 2 had it involved that particular girl on bike action?

You could comment anonymously with your gender stated if you’d like. I don’t mind. I’m just curious.. Haha..

“And all at once the crowd begins to sing, sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same,”
- All At Once, The Fray.

P/S : Oh and on a totally separate and unrelated note, the site’s being totally spaz and won’t sign me in on my account as are my e mail accounts so I’m replying here :

I’ll have you know I’m somewhat attached to the profanities. You know how much I love your pretty fucking dirty mouth. Haha, yeah, I cursed, and this time just for the heck of it. I’ve been known to do that from time to time you know, especially since I learned from the best. Haha, k, now you just gotta pick your jaw up from the ground cause it looks dangerously close to unhinging, xP

Oh and btw, I dreamt I woke up in the middle of the night and crept downstairs to reply your PM. I don’t think it actually happened cause the site was being all spaz on me this morning when I tried but.. Yeah.. so I didn’t actually, did it? >.<

S.