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Okay, so I was browsing my facebook account, looking into my past, into a time when I was more, well, extroverted, I guess would be the word…into a time when was less hyper-aware of exhibitionists, attention whores, and my general distaste for them (except when it comes to Shawn from Psych…I think he’s just keen…). I found this:

Must I really?

Here are the rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits or goals about you. At the end choose 20 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you!

(ed. Well, actually, I kinda just want to see how much this thing spreads…it’s kinda neat)

Okay, fine. I, like many others, have not bothered to tag the requisite 20 people. So go to law school and sue me (yourselves, I will not tolerate any crap from any other lawyer).

1) I wrote about 19 of these earlier. Then my pinky hit a button on my keyboard, sent Firefox to the homepage, and I lost it all. Now I’m writing all of this in Microsoft Word out of paranoia
2) If I could have one frivolous, idiotic wish, I would wish that I could talk like Bugs Bunny
3) I over-punctuate normal sentences
4) Sometimes the world seems so grey, the lines get so blurred, that I don’t think anyopinions are justified
5) I wish I could make a career out of eating fruit and sleeping
6) I think everyone could benefit from some therapy
7) If I haven’t read all of the books/comics, if I haven’t actually played the original game, if I haven’t watched the original show, then I don’t feel entitled to own any of the nostalgia merchandise, even though I understand the sentiment and novelty behind it.
8 ) I fear that I will miss out on many “growing up” experiences because I am too aware…is that even possible?
9) I don’t think I will ever sleep healthily again
10) Why does everyone feel the need to grow up? Nobody will play hide and seek with me anymore 😦
11) I make outlandish threats without any intention of following them through…it’d be interesting if I did, though
12) Just because I’m not going, doesn’t mean that you will have any less fun. Why won’t you just accept that I don’t want to go?
13) In school, I’ve been rewarded for lack of effort too many times. I fear I might get negatively conditioned
14) Sometimes, I wish I had a documented mental illness; at least I might feel more defined
15) I like to ponder things – wonderful or horrible, I find it all interesting
16) I have a constant and rotating craving for steak and sushi. I don’t know why
17) I think I act like I understand less things than I really do
18) RomComs without anything distracting from the romance (like action, mystery, fantasy, etc.) make me sick
19) I think that whatever holds all of humanity together, what makes us human, the common aspect within all of us, is the same thing as that “higher power” that some people believe in; and I don’t think it’s conscious
20) I believe that the world would be a much better place if it operated on cartoon physics
21) I wish my life was a sitcom; soundtrack, laughtrack, clear plotlines and all
22) Sometimes, I just feel like a walking, pathetic cry for attention
23) My mood is in a direct, linear relationship to the amount of sleep I get…I think…
24) I just accidentally whacked myself in the head with the corner of my keyboard
25) It’s after midnight, and below freezing outside. I’m going out for a walk. I’ll probably be back in less than half an hour simply because I got too cold

I was a bit too emo with this thing, wasn’t I?

So, apparently, that was me, circa January 29th, 2009. Now, on August 24th, 2010, at…*ahem*…5:02am, I had the bright idea to redo the list…25 random things about me that I would allow my facebook friends to read; were I willing to reveal to my facebook friends that I revel in my past, and would ever commit the distasteful sin of…*gasp*…reposting!!!!! L’horreur…

Anyway, here I go, 25 random things about me, -insert real name here-, age 18 and a half-ish:

  1. I think I’m dying faster than I’ve ever been; seriously, right now, my head is pounding so hard I can hardly hold my own head upright without feeling disoriented and dizzy…this didn’t use to happen.
  2. I fear I have been far more negatively impacted by my recent relationship (and subsequent loss of said relationship to – as one of my friends put it – a french whore) than I had ever thought possible.
  3. Seriously, it occupies more than its fair share of my thoughts – I cannot, cannot look at any of his online status updates, I am plagued (putting it dramatically) by nightmares of him hooking up with another one of my friends, and I get constant, debilitating reminders that I am “loosing the breakup”
  4. This summer, I have become such a hikkomori (def: japanese term for shut-in) that I have actually become deficient in vitamin D…yes, it’s that bad.
  5. I fear I will become one of those adults who will be forever incapable of growing up, accepting responsibility, and moving on.
  6. I have serious doubts in my ability to succeed as a physicist.
  7. I haven’t spoken to my father in more than a year. I haven’t seen him in more than two years.
  8. I am…gross. Seriously, anyone who would ever learn of my hygiene routines would be very, very appalled.
  9. I need sleep; bad.
  10. I think I am far more negative and socially inept than I have ever been.
  11. I have no clue who I am anymore – come to think of it, have I ever known?
  12. I never want to leave Dairy Cream. Ever. It pains me to know that I must.
  13. I spend waaay too much money, and I am way too easily convinced to break any self-imposed spending limits.
  14. I need to get out more…I get waay too depressing when left to my own devices without being otherwise occupied.
  15. I don’t think I’m pretty anymore…*sob*…okay, that one actually made me smile just by writing it.
  16. I hate, hate, hate Miley Cyrus and all that she’s become.
  17. Same deal for Lindsay Lohan.
  18. I should listen to music more…
  19. I should read more…
  20. I love Calvin and Hobbes…love, love, LOOVE!!
  21. I hate attention-whores, and yet I find Shawn Spencer from Psych extremely attractive…also on the list of fiction character crushes are Jason Stackhouse (*sigh*), Fargo (aww…), RDJ (*drool*), and, forever and always, Sokka (I know he’s a cartoon character, and also waay younger than me by now, but that’s beside the point)(and stop judging me for having the hots for a cartoon character!!)
  22. I am probably way more perverted than anyone accounts for…
  23. I still have an unholy obsession with collecting nail polish colours.
  24. I sometimes get the feeling that I’m “above” the girly indulgences my friends have (like Degrassi, or Gossip Girl, or 90210), and it makes my act grouchily and condenscendingly to them…I feel guilty for this…
  25. My head is still pounding. Ugh…

Okay, so there it is. And, looking back, this isn’t the type of thing I’d ever allow my facebook friends to see. I shudder at the very thought…

But then again, nobody reads this damn thing anyway, so it’s all okay!! Lovely.

But, if you have read this…any thoughts on how you (or I, for that matter) have changed in a year-ish?


I predict that nobody but myself will read this text. Even though I will post this on the internet, and make it fuuuully public, NOBODY will read this. I guarantee it.

So, in light of this “no one will read this” mentality, I will write down a few things that I believe may provoke somebody to comment should they read it, so’s to test the un-read-ness of this text:

  1. Frankly, the Last Airbender movie was excellent. Although I haven’t seen it myself, judging by the previews, I can safely say that the movie is of excellent quality.
  2. I believe that my place of employment is somehow cursed to become some sort of homing beacon to ex-boyfriends. I have, so far, seen two of my friends’ exes (as well as my high school’s ex student council president – does he count? He was, after all, sort of like a boyfriend to the entire school, for a while…sorta…). I do not look forward to the day when my own walks through those commercial-grade glass doors, seeking ice cream…
  3. As I type this, I am fully nude. Well, underneath my PJs and underwear, of course…but I choose not to acknowledge that.

Hmm…this is fun. I may continue with this practice of posting of titillating half-truths that no one will ever read…

With very bad sentence structure and grammar, of course!!

Okay, so today, I was entered into a debate about, of all things, Twilight. Oh boy…

It started because earlier today, I read an article (this one, in fact), and happened to mention it. The point it brings up about the movies/series that I found most interesting was its first point: that through Team Jacob’s epic (and later on, very creepy) loss to Team Edward, the Twilight series subtly implies that interracial relationships with non-Anglo-Saxons are wrong, evil, and will most likely lead directly to the apocalypse (all implied non-consciously by Ms. Meyers, I’m sure). Now, I just brought it up in conversation to mention that, of the myriad of anti-Twilight media I’ve seen, non have ever pointed out to me Twilight’s apparent stance on race. I mean, I thought I’d heard everything: Bella as the epitome of uncreative, idiotic, bland and pathetic protagonist; Edward as the ultimate creepy boyfriend; Meyer’s not-so-subtle uberMormon agenda; the horrendous implications about the intelligence of our society, judging by the overwhelming popularity of Twilight as a whole; the damn sparkly-ness. And yet, this was the first time I’d seen anyone ever bring up race. Whoa…

But I never got to bring up this particular point, because somehow, I got roped into a yelling match about how “it’s just ridiculous that people are drawing these absurd negativities about Twilight from nowhere! Why can’t everyone just leave it alone and just have fun with it?! I’m sure the books aren’t teaching everyone to be racist. Besides, one of the nicest, happiest, purest people we know leads her life very heavily based on religious ideals! So what’s exactly so wrong with instilling some old-fashioned morals into today’s generation?! I mean, all of today’s songs are all about objectifying women based on their Apple Bottom Jeans and ability to shake their booties! So isn’t it nice that girls are being taught that, despite all this liberal stuff floating around nowadays, it’s okay to wait until marriage to have sex, since, you know, some girls actually still want their first times to be special, and they might be deeply traumatized if it turns out to not be special?”

Okay, so there’s a lot of crap in there that I’ll just briefly address because, well, I want to respond to my argument-mate directly later on (she has a bit of a bad habit of not letting me make a complete point before interrupting me, so I get distracted and forget my original train of thought easily). Also, if I were to respond to all of that in-depth, I’m sure it would take be a loooong time, since most if it irks me at a level that I’m not sure I completely understand, and I don’t exactly have the concrete proof stored in my head (like divorce figures, the complete implications of “old morality”, and what the hell exactly happened in those damned books). So, here goes, real quick-like:

  1. Sex…really isn’t all that big of a deal. I don’t see what it should be, and why everyone get’s in such a tizzy about how special and intimate is has to be.
  2. Screw songs. So the dudes are all singing about objectifying women, but all the girls are all singing about being independent, and how they’re just as willing to objectify guys (except for Taylor Swift, but, you know…). So, in my eyes, that balances out.
  3. There’s a reason old-fashioned morals are considered outdated. They are repressive; they don’t allow anyone (even the men) to make any decisions that make them completely happy. Frankly, the reason the divorce rates are rising isn’t because marriages are getting unhappier, it’s because it’s becoming more and more acceptable for a couple to say “screw this, I refuse to put up with this, and deny myself true happiness anymore,” and not get judged for being defective human beings.
  4. Religion is relatively harmless, but left in the hands of idiots (as it sometimes has been), it is one of the most illogical creations of humankind, and I feel like it breeds more animosity and ignorance than any bonds of friendship and community it creates are worth.
  5. Just because I know one person who lives a happy life based off religion is, in no way, an endorsement of the lifestyle for the masses. To each their own, you know?
  6. Of course the books aren’t teaching anyone anything, except that should you run into a blood-drinking humanoid in the woods, only stay to chat if it has amber eyes. Remember, Amber is Amicable, but Red means RUN!!!! (Not that you could escape their superspeed anyway…)
  7. But see, they’re not absurd. Negative, yes, but firstly, they’re not drawn from nowhere; there are thought processes going into these. Secondly, any massive cultural phenomenon such as Twilight deserves to be analyzed in full for complete contemplation of the implications it poses on our society.

But, still, the above 7 points are mostly my opinion, and not fully valid as reasonable arguments on their own.

Now, see, what get’s to me the most is that, well, Twilight is a massively huge part of our present-day culture, and many people (mostly young females) are so obsessed with it that much of its hidden messages have probably been ingrained into their psyches, to have much effect on their behavior later in their lives. So, obviously, we should seek out what the “messages” are to try to understand what’s being communicated to the younger (and sometimes older) generation, just in case these “messages” could lead straight to the creation of a dystopia. I am of this though process because I have seen something similar before: I was a Harry Potter fan.

I read the book over, and over, and over again. I regularly visited websites devoted to announcing any details about upcoming books and movies, and obsessing over every intricate detail in essay format to try to determine future plots, analyse character motivations, and identify real-world inspirations used by the author. All of my playtime fantasies evolved to include my ability to manipulate magic (my regular viewings of Sabrina the Teenage Witch reruns also served to amplify this particular portion of my obsession). Clearly, Harry Potter had a much larger effect on my life than as “just some fun novels about a boy wizard’s fight against evil”. For all I know, despite my having lost interest in the release of the movies (let’s face it: aside from them being bad adaptations, they don’t do so hot as actual movies, either), Harry Potter continues to influence the decisions I make to this day.

So, what I’m curious about is, well, is there anything as horrendously wrong with Harry Potter that I simply didn’t see because I was too young and in love? Have I also been unknowingly indoctrinated with JK Rowling’s secret repressive/evil/anarchist agenda? And, also, for funsies, what are your thoughts on the whole Twilight debacle?

It’s this…nagging feeling that rises up in your throat. That churns your stomach. That just makes you want to scream…

“Okay, is it even remotely possible for you to just shut your ‘effing yap for, like, one minute?!?!”

I mean, some people. They just go on, and on, and on, and even when they’re not speaking, they find ways to annoy you. Like, with facebook. ‘Effing facebook.

Seriously, some people, updating their status every other minute, always “liking” all of these stupid, useless groups/things/ughs! Do they not realize that people (namely me) simply do not care?! How is that not absolutely drilled through their massively thick skulls?!

I don’t care if they like that photo.

I don’t care if they’re hungry.

I don’t care if they’re simply heartbroken about the end of a relationship that, frankly, was an idiotic endeavor to begin with.

Ooh…I just had a thought: I’m not exactly being subtle, am I? Anyone who knows me would know who is behind this blog in an instant…

Oh well, if they don’t like what’s written here, they can go suck their own asses.

But, back to the point; why are these people incapable of just, you know, shutting up?! And, well, Betty White has a point: looking at someone else’s vacation photos is a punishment, especially if the damn albums are all 200 photos long, and I have a slow ISP.

And another thing: what makes a photo good? Especially if it’s just a shot of some scenery or some ancient building? Especially if I know very well that, behind the (dSLR) camera, is just a clueless tourist on auto mode? (Okay, maybe “clueless” is a little harsh, but hey, it makes the phrasing sound good?)

I mean, the subject matter is about as cool as it’s gonna be; if it’s the friggin’ Coliseum, then either way, no matter how it winds up getting captured in photography, it’s still the friggin’ Coliseum (ie. majorly awesome). So what makes it good? What makes you decide to “like” one on facebook and not the others? Composition? Colours? How much it makes you challenge society’s preconceptions on the Ancient Romans? Yeah, don’t really think so…

I’m serious here. I’m actually begging whoever’s reading this to answer me! I need to know. I don’t even care if how you decide is as simple as “well, I like this person, I’m jealous that s/he went on this vacation, and all the photos look sorta the same, so I’ll just “like” the ones that the least amount of other people have “liked”…you know, for variety”. Or even that you “like” the ones that the most other people have “liked”, because you too, have no idea what constitutes a good photo, and you figure that if other people “liked” it, then they must have some idea what constitutes a good photo, so…there.

Honestly, I have no clue. Is that really all there is? Are people so collectively clueless about the aesthetics of photography that this (see above paragraph) is all we’ve been reduced to? I hope not…

Come on, people, prove me wrong!

I am.


No joke.

Especially now, at 4am, when I’m in one of my, for lack of a better name, “hermit moods”. When I am obviously zoned out in some sort of pre-slumber funk, obviously sleepy, yet too lazy to get of my ass and actually go to bed. It is at these times when I aimlessly peruse the internet, traversing cyberspace, leaving no mark of my presence behind; no comments, no forum posts, no nothing, and that’s how I like it.

But then, what should appear but a disturbing aberration: a close friend had a birthday.

See, recently, out of laziness, I have stopped wishing people happy birthdays on facebook. I mean, I have over 200 facebook friends, most with posted birthdays to which I will be eventually notified, and if I continued wishing every one a happy birthday, then, seeing as I’m only barely acquaintances with most of them, it would mostly amount to me emotionlessly typing “Happy birthday so-and-so! :)” 200 times a year. I might as well just wish them all a happy belated birthday collectively every January 1st, and be done with it, really.

Sidenote: not to mention that if I took it upon myself to wish everyone a happy birthday, I would feel bad if I didn’t check the internet one day and missed the birthday of even the most insignificant facebook friend, so to save myself the emotional turmoil, I set limits!

Now, since facebook birthdays have very much become an international phenomena by themselves, I still feel compelled to participate, and, as such, I still wish a happy birthday via facebook to those who I sorta-remotely care about (when I remember to even check in the first place)

So, back to the main narrative, a close friend had a birthday, prompting my to want to post a somewhat uncharacteristically cheerful online greeting, you know, to show that I cared enough to try and deviate from the Happy birthday so-and-so! :)” template. Thus, in my pre-slumber zombie state, I mustered up a happy birthday greeting. But then, anxiety stuck in the form of tiny blue button; a tiny, square, blue button that read “Share”.

See, that’s when it hit me; I would be “sharing” this bout of uncharacteristic cheeriness with the world (okay, maybe not; but definitely with all of her facebook friends). This is something that displays a part of me that, while fully conscious, I am usually only comfortable displaying to the people to which I’m closest, and not, you know, the entirety of all people who know of my existence. It’s all very…unnerving.

Not only is it unnerving, but I also find it terribly intimidating. That word: share. Shaaaaaare. In other words: bare your soul, expose your innermost workings, let the vultures have free range over your intestines (sorry about the graphic imagery folks!)! How does no one else find this terrifying?! Granted, on a scale of exhibitionism from not to ten, I’m on the uncommonly low end of the scale, as in the “hide self behind a bookshelf in fetal position” end, but still…

Where does everyone else in the universe muster up the courage that I don’t? To forwardly state their opinions, make uninvited commentary, all at the risk of having whatever little thing they say be ripped apart word by word, their flaws exposed, be it by online reply or by offline vocal/mental criticism. Is there no one out there as scared of putting forth their worthless, meek thoughts as I am?

Yeah, yeah, the old argument returns: “but you’re commenting on all of this in your blog! How are you not similarly afraid of this?!”

Answer: I am still relatively anonymous here. I am fairly certain that nobody in this universe regularly reads it, judging by my lackluster pageview stats. So…there?


I have no conclusitory statement, and it is now 5am, and I must hasten to bed before my housemates wake up and I am judged for going to sleep after they wake up for the day.

Adieu, my nonexistant readers!!






Okay, so a minute ago, I was excited, I was ecstatic, I was…well, I wanted to laugh and shout with glee, but my roommate was sleeping, so…anyway, to sum up, a minute ago, I was happy. Now? Not so much…

The season finale of Fringe was amazing, to say the least. I mean, alternate universes, evil-genius Walternate, tough-gal Brunette-Bangsy McCoy (aka. alt-Olivia), Agent on Agent action (the violent kind, I mean…not…you know…)…it was all spectacular. It was all, in a word, awesome. Not many episodes of TV can excite me the point of wanting to yell at the TV. Really.

It was a superb episode; Olivia and Peter finally succumbed to the inevitable sexual tension in a way that didn’t make me gag too much; there was a lot more screentime for Olivia Dunham(s) with reddish-brown hair and bangs, who was, well, I don’t think anyone would argue that she isn’t simply gorgeous with that hairstyle; and, of course, we saw the final appearance of the astounding William Bell (as well as possibly the last on-screen appearance of Leonard Nimoy). But see, after what felt like three hours of silently screaming at the screen “you’ve got the wrong Olivia!!“, the realization finally set in:

See, no matter the quality of any ordinary episode, bad or amazing, at least it would get continued the next week, ya know? My cravings would get their fix in a timely manner. One week, several new episodes every day, I was fine and dandy.

But do you know what time it is? It is time for the dreaded…summer season. That empty vacuum of pointless filler shows; reruns, reality TV, crappy shows with funding that matches their poor quality. In short, during this time, I am horribly, horribly deprived.

And that time is now. *Sigh*

It didn’t really hit me at House’s season finale; that show never pull off a running story arc anyway. I watched 30 Rock’s season finale without batting an eyelash; it was just a sitcom after all. I watched episode 22 of Flashforward’s first and last season; but turns out, it wasn’t actually the finale. I’d been completely blind to the alarming rate at which the Lost series finale was creeping up. But…after that episode of Fringe, that perfect, gripping season finale that left me craving more, it sank in…there was no more. There is no more. There won’t be any more for *sob* another year!

Okay, too depressed. Going to bed now.

Poop. 😦

I’m bored.

I’m sleepy.

I’m too comfy where I am to leave and move to my bed.

I have nothing interesting to write.



Okay, so I’ve figured it out; my attitude towards attention.

Apparently, I like it, sortakinda want it, just as long as I don’t know who it’s coming from. Pageview states are nothing but numbers; the most detail one can wring out of them is the itty link that referred them to this shallow grave of misery and insubstantiality.

However, once I can put a face to the stat, it gets hairy. I mean, it’s so…personal, you know? All these questions bubble to the surface: Why are they here? For what reason could they possibly want to read this? Do they expect something from me? Will they perchance actually ask for something from me if we ever should meet face-to-face?

Oh the humanity.

Or maybe it’s just that I’m all too aware that the wrong people are reading what I write. Because, well, I’d like to think that what I write is personal, honest…something which I think I rarely am in real life. At least, about what I think or how I feel about certain things. And, well, there’s a reason I don’t wander around yelling about my insecurities; although I am fully aware that my contributions to this blog could be construed as such. Now, while there are different reasons for different people, the blanket reason is basically that I’m slightly scared of their reactions, and the possibility that I would be forced to relinquish the image of stability and quirky nonchalance that I’d like to imagine that I’ve cultivated.

So, once I can place a name and a face to whoever is willingly delving into my musings, I become fully aware that they have had the opportunity to react to all the things to which I didn’t want them to react. Are you following me here?

Now, you may ask: “so if you’re so fearful of making it personal, facing the reactions from those around you, why do you always write these posts in a fashion that suggests a personal communication between the reader and the narrator?” Simple answer: because it’s easier to convey sentiment and express non-seriousness should the need arise.

Also because it’s how I talk to myself, but that’s another matter.

So, in conclusion, I am fearful of personal connection, I really need work on my basic sentence structure, and I talk to myself. Now I will be off to scan something in the library.


Okay, so after a bit of late-night pondering, i have arrived at this very simple conclusion:

Life is boring.

Seriously. I mean, no one ever wants to set up a meeting with you with the intention of acting as the catalyst in the reuniting of you with an ex, no one ever goes to insane lengths to surprise you with your heart’s desire on your birthday, no one ever wants to usurp your position – okay, so they might, but not when you’re just a lowly first year university student with nothing going on in your life.

See, the reason, I figure, is simple: people are stupid. People are boring. People are too preoccupied with everyday crap like television and gossip and taxes and mortgage rates to think of convoluted ways to get what they want out of life. Between everything else in their lives, they’re simply too tired to put in all the effort needed to see things like this through; they’ve simply got no time to plan it all out. That is why life is boring: because no one, no one, has the time, energy, or means to put together an awe-inspiring, purely genius, simply legendary secret agenda anymore.

After all, if there’s homework calling, tax forms to be filled out in triplicate, a dog to walk and a kid to pick up from daycare, then of course it would make more sense to do all of that stuff, and hang up those plans for that brilliantly complicated master plan. Because, well, those who would be willing to sacrifice financial security, the dog, and the kids for an intangible plan are usually the ones hanging around the looney bin.

But you know what?

I’m tired of my life being boring.

I am just a first year university student with nothing really going on in my life, and summer fast approaching.

Meaning: I currently have some time on my hands, and a lot more coming my way.

So…I vow, from now on (whenever possible), to approach all endeavors in my life with a carefully thought-out hidden agenda!

That’s right!

I will go to work with then intention to not only serve ice cream, but also to subconsciously manipulate my boss into eating a spoonful Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream that day.

I will go to class with the intention to not only learn, but also to incite a certain clique of noisy future-engineers to sit closer the the back of the classroom.

I will go to a party with the intention to not only…do whatever it is that normal people without a secret agenda do at a party, but also to convince two people who will most likely end up making out by the end of the night to (gasp) play a nice cheery game of Go Fish! instead.

I will covertly coerce my will into other people’s minds.

I will learn the art of manipulation.

I will stand in a corner a cackle maniacally as I watch my carefully laid plans work like clockwork.

Or, at least, I will try.

The most I forsee is myself failing miserably, but, hey, isn’t that the beauty of secret agendas? If no one ends up bending to my will, if nothing goes according to plan, then at least no one has to know, right?


The lines are blurring.
The world is shrinking.
(Literally, actually…)
There is no more hope.
Nothing left to live for.
It is…

The End of Days
(insert intense look)

Well, no, not really.
It’s just that I’m effing tired right now, and I still have a chem prelab to write for tomorrow, and it’s already 3:20 in the freaking morning, and I feel like making a useless commentary.

Seriously, who the hell even looks at this damn thing?!
I’ve got another blog now, one that I’ve actually taken the time to tell my friends about (once, a long time ago…). I mean, I used to take this blog, this’un right here, as the “one”, the one that, should anyone that I actually know personally find as “My Official Blog” and decide to read, it’d be it.
So I censored (sorta).
I kept main entries as less-than-personal rubbish, and shoved all my not-less-than-personal rubbish in a not-so-cleverly hidden page.
PS – I love hypenating multiple words to form one new superlong one.
Now, I have one that is, for all intents and purposes, public. As in “hey, friends of [my name], follow me as I write nonsense about my life that is actually related to me!”. So, where does that allocate this one?

Well, I’ve actually started thinking of this one as the “blog that no one will read”. I’ve started completely ignoring my “secret page” and just typing any old crap out here. Well, not really.

Sidenote: I’ve actually allocated the contents of my “secret page” to a .docx file on my computer, so I can bitch about my life all I want while naming names, throwing knives at people I know, and generally being as specific and evil as I want without worrying about anyone finding out. So, yeah…

I mean, this is the internet, after all. Don’t know who’s out there, can’t be too careful, now, can we?

Then again, short of actually posting my full address and schedule online, I suppose someone desperate and deranged could, in theory, find and stalk/steal from me…but that’s beside the point.

Point is: I have no clue where I’m going with any of my many blogs, and it is now 3:45am, and I still have that chem prelab to write. Ugh.

I mean, I don’t ask for much, really.

I understand that your other priorities are important; after all, they are pretty much all once-in-a-lifetime deals.

And I get that, I do.

But I’m just a simple human.

With simple thoughts.

Who doesn’t ask for much.


It’s really not too much to ask, is it?

I mean, a girl can only hold out for so long, you know?

I give you nothing but love, and if I’ve ever come off as flighty, or ungrateful, or cold, then I’m sorry, truly.

From the bottom of my heart, you must understand that from the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve felt nothing but love.

Sure, I may have gotten at upset at the things you’ve shown me, or told me, or given me in the past.

But those were nothing, baby, I swear.

Just a fleeting moment, but at the end of it all, I still loved you, completely, totally.

I gave you love, I gave you faith, I memorized all your important numbers, I did it all.

So why do you disappoint me so?

Really, I mean, just because it’s the friggin’ Winter Olympics, doesn’t mean you can just stop releasing new episodes of all my favourite shows all of a sudden, right?

Mark my words, I’m pissed.

And trust me, I won’t be getting over this grudge until February 28th.


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