my grandfather

was a kind man.
he liked cigarettes and fried chicken.
he lived to be 95.
goodbye.

you wish your love could see you grow older

oh jonsi how i adore you already. i cannot wait for april 5th (or maybe i can, since that means it is closer to doomsday)

Jónsi - Go Do

*chants* i will not download the leak, i will not download the leak, i will not.

Jónsi & Alex Recipe Show - Macadamia Monster Mash

i love your boyfriend too

aaand nothing else of much note has happened (besides that fact that i am kind of sick. you may have heard).
onoz homework.

i won't stop until that boy is mine

:O

ty sue vern for getting that song stuck in my head, which i was never really fond of in the first place (Y).

today is the day i do my homework.






brb watching being human then procrastinating.

OH I HAVE FOUND A RUSSELL TOVEY LOOKALIKE. FIRST ZQ NOW RUSSELL. THIS IS GETTING BETTER AND BETTER.

the vilification of lonelines

is sadly rampant.

to be lonely is to be creepy and suspicious. it is to be a lurker, to “not belong”, to be abnormal, subnormal.

this is pretty much yet another manifestation of society’s inability to accept the different. don’t want to join in? we reject you, utterly, before you can even defend yourself.

why do we not allow people to be alone? why do we suspect them of planning the most dastardly of deeds, the most gruesome of crimes, the most immoral of acts?

and in extension, why the constant pressure to ~find your soulmate?

(digression: this was brought to mind by that highly whiny “two is better than one” excuse for a song by whatsthatband and whatsherface, but then there have always been cheesy love songs about finding the one, among them most recently “haven’t met you yet” which frankly is a hope-song for the currently lonely, which again brings me back to my point of why do we not allow the lonely to be alone?)

i suppose the problem is that i am not sure if i can stand to be lonely anymore. i used to revel in it, to enjoy the sheer freedom of not being obligated to anyone, but since i chanced upon a social life (and an “other half”, ho hum) completely by accident (i swear), i feel gaps when i am alone. i like to think i am still as comfortable with my thoughts, but there are missing things.

(damn you acclimatisation. i need to revert asap)

people must be afraid of themselves, to fear solitude so much. when you are alone, you have to face every facet of yourself. yes, those are your thoughts floating in the dark deep recesses of your mind, and those are your hopes and dreams and fears. this is the very essence of yourself, distilled into a pool of what is unapologetically you.

summary: i have begun to fear myself, and i need to stop.

(this was supposed to be a longer post; i need to learn how to organise my ideas)

where do we go/nobody knows

i am contemplating buying that radiohead best of.

so, i fell asleep at 6pm and just got up at 12 am for dinner. wat just happened.

am now, at 1am, waiting for the hot water so i can have a bath.

and, hopefully, go back to sleep.


(people are hard to figure out)
(but i still like them)

new favourite word:

Bleed.
not just in the sense of blood exiting flesh, but mostly the sense of insidious, sly, seeping.

this occured to me in history today (WHERE I COULD HAVE SAT NEXT TO UNF GUY BUT I HAD TO BE ~LOYAL TO NOMI rofl) because i was sitting in front of an overhead projector (digression: i really need to work on remembering the spelling of tricky words i.e. projecter, independant, relevent), which would have been a completely innocuous projector had it not been sitting directly in front of one of those dinky mounted-whiteboard-on-an-easel things, which i always see as either a cute or pathetic extension of the vast gleaming expanse of a whiteboard, depending on mood (digression: don't you just love how white is always the signifier of all things good? purity, cleanliness, innocence, potential. well for once you can fuck off, white, because you may have noticed that in the real world, white always turns to grey. life is too dirty for the maintenance (another tricky word) of impossible ideals. at this point i may have decided to dedicate my life to filth and degradation, but hey, i'm still young. plans can fuck off too, it seems (who am i kidding, i have the same wants as the rest of them).

sorry, i was rambling about bleed, yes.
anywho (which is a completely random word that seems to have usurped the position of "anyhow" which i love because it is an example of the fluidity of language through time), bleed is an absolutely lovely word because of the connotations of slow, steady creeping. be it sly infiltration--

oh wait i was going on about that OHP in history class, um (i have this problem with structuring my arguments in essays too, no worries):
so the ohp, in front of the dinky whiteboard, and you know how those whiteboards are mounted on steel easels? but you can still see the border of the whiteboard, and the screws that hold it in place? well on this one, on the right, the paint from the easel had bled onto the whiteboard frame. i could not stop staring at it (which is unsurprising, it was history, ho hum) because it was... well i was puzzled, to be perfectly honest. how did that paint get there? was the easel repainted after mounting (har, har)? why did the paint seep only on that lower right side? did it gain sentience and decide to migrate, molecule by molecule?
so the bleeding of paint, the bleeding of erythrocytes (ngl i had to look this up; sorry pn lim), the bleeding of ideas.

you know how it's like when you wake up from a bizarre dream and you try to remember it and it bleeds through your fingers like so much water?
you know what it's like when you someone defects from your circle of comradeship and bleeds their hearts into another puddle of conformity (this isn't in reference to anything, i swear)?
you know what it's like when your heart - an overly romanticised bag of valves and vessels - feels like its bleeding, but it really isn't because you would be dead in point five of a nanosecond and are just a neurotic bitch?

i am not sure what was the point of this post

(it sounded better in my head)

(also bleeding - the physical kind - is less painful and/or cathartic than you may have thought. trust me, i have an epidermis-thinning strain of eczema)

today's apotheosis of Bleed brought to you by:
an old wound.

(yes that is a scissors you see on the left. yes i used it in an attempt to gouge splinter out. happy times.)

nothing makes me bawl like Doctor Who

To be perfectly honest I dunno if I'll miss Tennant. He had four seasons, for heaven's sake. That's three more than Eccleston >=(.

But omg Matt Smith. You had me at "I'm a girl!?"

EoT felt like a goodbye to RTD as well. Since he used the excuse of Ten saying goodbye to revisit all his old characters. Sheesh.

Also Russell Tovey! *squee!*

I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO ELEVEN'S SERIES NOW.

New years' pie

Was apple with Gruyere crust.

Verdict: soggy, but edible.

Note to self: Get pie pan.

I feel somewhat obliged.

Even though I do like to go on about how calenders are a human invention and time is a way for mankind to keep track of sunrises and sunsets (and seasons, if you're in more temperate climes), blah blah.

Because this year was ~*~lifechanging~*~


Ho hum.  I escaped from the clique-ey, confidence sucking black hole that was the high school down the road, and found college. Which is like school, but better? The people are better. The knowledge is better (and more relevant to my interests). Am still socially awkward and painfully self conscious, but am more at ease with uselessness in social situations.

(It is 3 am and I am incomprehensible)

I also found ONTD, and started using my Google Reader properly, which has been... educational? (I haven't been reading ONTD_political as often as I should).

My ever present sense of detachment means, though, that essentially this year was just another 365 days of living/reading/lingering as I wait for the scepter of death.

But then, let me sum it up for you in a slightly more optimistic mind map

That should work.

Oh also this person

unflattering photo notwithstanding, has contributed to my sense of self and emotional stability. Thanks for letting me use you to make me feel good.

Er, that had more unfortunate implications than I had intended.

So basically in 2009, as in all other sets of 365 days before it:

Things Happened, And I Was Affected By Them.

Goodbye, naughties.

my epiglottis needs to start working properly.

In the absence of the matriarch, I made dinner.

Now I feel like a ~real woman. *succumbs to society*

it was acceptable at the time.

Reading too much on l4d at night gives me the willies.

Not sure if can bring self to play MW2 (or any game involving human nemises). I mean, you kill people! and dogs (which is especially =(, since humans are bastards by defult)! I have been told I should try not to humanize my games, but I genuinely can't help it. This is why Prototype scares me so much. What if it happened in real life? What if massive wanton destruction could be possible on a scale even wider than it is possible now? (I hear you, people screaming IT IS JUST A GAME. Jeesh. Lemme retain my ~compassion).

Was also terrified by Catch-22, although it is commonly heralded as the inspiration for the term "black comedy". What is so funny about seeing the war effort trivialised by bureaucracy, I ask you. I was terrified for the chaplain when he was being interrogated re: Washington Irving/Irving Washington. I dunno why I always choose to concentrate on the gravity of the situation rather than the fluff.  But come on. The sheer inability of the Group (and it's commanding subordinates) to make rational decisions about a war that is putting lives at risk is. Ugh. I can't even. War makes me queasy in the stomach and sad in the brain.


Chocolat was fine, if slightly heavy handed on the anti-religion stance. Well, anti-religious intermediataries rather than the actual religion. But +10 for the chocolate porn (not literally, although that would be... eh, interesting). Also now I want to name my next pet Pantoufle. Maybe one of the hammies? Hmm.

"You think too much" is a popular refrain re: my tendency to think to much. So what? Have to fill the hours somehow. Plus it stops me from... it stops me.

Y'know, I should start writing again.

~REAL LADIES DON'T GO FOR GIGOLOS~

Oh I have terrible, terrible taste in music.

So I was just cleaning out my ipod (NO NO I HAVE TO DRAG MY PRESHIOUS SONGS OUT KICKING AND SCREAMING), and I found this lovely tune by a Eurovision winner (I think?) anyway she's Greek, and I suspect this was a line dancing song my mother guilted me into downloading, and I found myself inexplicably addicted to it.

Now with such scintillating lyrics as: "I'm not your average bimbo, lost in limbo". Indeed.

Anyway this lovely lady is like two artistes down from Grayceon

Schizo much.

Also, what the hell is Good Charlotte doing on my ipod?

History assignments. ugh. Yes I know they are good for me and I wouldn't study otherwise but still. Ugh.

Disaster.

Aww, you think. Sho pwetty.

Well unfortunately they're all mushy and weird inside.

At least I made them look decent.

Oh and I forgot to use unsalted butter for the caramel, so it reeks of butter. Yech. And now I have a bowl of it in the fridge, because again I end up with less cupcakes than the recipe suggested. Hmph.

Gtfo cupcakes. I'll stick to muffins. They've never failed me yet.

Oh and I melted a spatula. This is fun.

ETA: my mum thinks they taste fine. And they are surprisingly delectable. No trace of coffee at all though. Damn you weak free trade coffee. Oh well.

THIS IS HOW A HEART BREAKS

I know that song is old, but I still love it.

My dreams've been pretty epic lately. Note to self: don't run away from ZQ. It's not rape if I want it.

Oh, history was, umm. We'll see.

It is late (early) and I am hungry.

PS Am amazed at juvenility (juvenileness?) of people my age. Seriously, guys. Courting isn't that hard.

Utter disregard

D=

ohnozohnoz.

This isn't good at all.

it's what you do, not say.

so despite my love of being low key, I still would've liked to feel like a celebrant. Wouldn't you?

But oh, it was only a few days before a (major, future-determining) event.
bloody crap, di-anne, don't be selfish.
(inner child demanding attention)

sigh. Hello, adulthood.

but it would've been so nice if--

nevermind.

Occasionally, regardless of my abhorrence for tack, predictability, and the seeming childishness of certain rituals, ... well, let's just say I was wistful, and leave it at that.

PS Obvs I want attention because I would not be posting this publicly otherwise. But truthfully I know well enough to not be an idiot tyvm. Just complainin' to the world.

PPS At least I had you. Of course you were stymied by my reluctance to share (or, as most people would call it, selfishness), but then you just accepted it and moved on.

Note to self: That's what people do. They move on.

This post brought to you by the letter V for Vague, and W for Whiny.

abstract emotions are abstrackt.

I was just wondering about the need to make love tangible.

ESO BESO

damn Eso Beso (Helmut Lottie version) is stuck in my head because mother INISISTS ON PLAYING THE DAMN THING ON REPEAT OMG.

ESO BESO, OOOO THAT KISS. ESO BESO, OOOO YOUR KISS. IT'S GOT SOMETHING, I DON'T KNOW WHAAAAAT. BUT WHATEVER IT'S GOT, IT'S GOT ALOT.

I don't even know if "eso beso" has a meaning.
yeah, okay.
So as a consequence of being a complete ass, prospects don't look bright. but if I haul ass (again with the gluteal analogy), things may happen.
I love being vague.
You know when people do something for you? Altruism my foot. That is also for their self-satisfaction. Y'see, when you give someone a present, for example, you're looking for that feel good factor of having them be impressed/euphoric with your gift (yes there is of course an element of wanting to give someone something, but that's not the point I'm talking about here (hah avoidance much)). So the receivee will feel obliged (in most cases; outliers excepted) to express joy at said gift, even if it is just a photoframe.
When you do something, you gotta get it back.

cynical dee is cynical.

By the way, tomorrow is the day my childhood dies. Well not really, but this is the year society decrees I grow up. Screw you, society. I'll find my own balance between play and work. Granted, right now the scale is sliding towards "Endless Fun and Consequently No Future", but I'm working on it. I am an adult (ho hum).

Would you have a crisis in an RX8?

Because pikky and alanna did.



and evidently so did clarkson.

I am still going to be a shallow bitch and say it isn't pretty.

(brb getting crucified)

What would I know I barely drive.

TEENAGE DREAMS IN A TEENAGE CIRCUS

Yay mika.

Yesterday we acted like a pair of seedy teenagers and drove around aimlessly until 3 am. It was fun. And when I got back my parents were asleep. Hmm. Nice to know you care.

The Ugly Truth! Yay Gerry Butler. Don't even bother going to the cinema tho, the good bits were all cut out again. Sigh. Also yes it was a typical romcom, but whatever. Me likey.

Halfway through Glee episode 2!

Trial news: Econs and lit (drama) to go, then I'm home free.