last leg tomorrow

I've just killed two mosquitoes.

I feel like a murderer.

All things pass

except frostbite. And the price of electricity.

One suspects that they keep high-technology temperature-control equipment in the walls of the school hall. A bit like the nuclear reactor beneath the Dunman High zheng xing yuan. Except that this one is to keep freshly dead bodies refrigerated properly if people expire in between papers.

Then they do autopsies, complete with red marks on the origins of malfunction.

No paper tomorrow. Might make up for screwing today.

white walls

I think quitting Econs might have been the best decision I've ever made.



It's only Tuesday. ): O great goddess of Frappucino, please accept this humble sacrifice. The brain cells of my cerebellum are really quite tasty. Look kindly upon me, dear lordess, and give me l33t writing skillz in exchange for my remaining sanity. My wallet is at thy command.

paper hajib

The sight of my tablet tempts me so much that I've covered it up with loose worksheets.

*&$#@

my phone is malfunctioning. Please don't call. With any luck, SMSes might work.

red neck

Is this a bad time to notice how ingenious and utterly impractical a human neck is? The neck allows our head to move a bit beyond the normal 180-degree semicircle (think a normal semicircle and distend it like a tin of rotten tomatoes) and connects the contents of the head to the rest of the body. Think in terms of tubes, you know? Spinal cord, windpipe, oesophagus, jugular. Etc.

But it is SUCH an easy place to grab hold of and snuff a person with. Get someone by the neck and he'll be very faithful to you until you let go. Shoot him there and he'll probably die. Break it and he'll die -- and that's the merciful version of what they say when someone is exhorted to be 'hung by the neck until he's dead'. Cut off blood flow there and he'll die. Cutting off the head takes place at the neck, and it's a good say to make sure that someone's really dead. Moreover, the neck is made of many little pieces, like bone discs and flexible segments and ligaments and cartilage, so that one malfunction could make the lucky person suffer immense pain. Not to mention incapacitation. Even if someone isn't actually doing it to you. Trip over a toy and try.

In light of all this one wonders, if the neck is so damn vulnerable, why people cannot just evolve to grow hair around it -- like wolves, or lions -- just to make it at least look less naked. Men have that option, but it's unhygenic and it's only exclusive to half the population. At the moment all that covers a young neck is a delicate little layer of skin and a similarly delicate little layer of fat (unless it's a fat layer of fat, on which I have no real comment). An old neck is even more vulnerable, especially those where you can see all the little tubes that connect the chin to the collarbone. While it's a good thing that survival in the big city doesn't depend quite so much on how physically safe your neck is compared to in the armpits of the Amazon, for example, if anyone thinks for a moment that I'm letting anything near my neck any time soon he'd better be careful about his own.

temporarily derailed, and happy about it

I'm glad I took today off. I'll admit I was beginning to despair a bit. It took a powerful combination of sketchpad, a family meal, Lord of the Rings, Suzumiya Haruhi and more time than I can technically spare to get my sanity back. I'll just have to try to catch up on that schedule tonight/tomorrow.

I have a little craving

And it will grow into a big fat craving soon if it isn't satisfied. I hope it's willing to wait for two weeks, because the midyears are to pop by in (almost) precisely five days. But the itch in my fingers is growing worse, and in the night I can hear the lonely voice of my tablet calling out to me. Oh Woe.

rockabilly

mmm. Who wants some music?

Play!

Estuans interius
ira vehementi
Estuans interius
ira vehementi
Sephiroth
Sephiroth!

I first memorised these lyrics when I was primary five. When it comes to pure orchestral oomph, nothing beats this song. Lyrics, lyrics, lyrics in latin, fiery with sephirothic doom!

Hearing them BLASTED from a hundred throats in front of me was pure heaven! Gloriosa, Generosa, Sephiroth, Sepiroth!

Long live Nobuo Uematsu!

Conversations

We are talking about Ylynn's cats.

[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
They're neutered.
flutna says:
oh ^________^
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Besides, the female's an ice queen.
flutna says:
is she the one who sprawls royally?
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Yes.
flutna says:
ohh!
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Do not be deceived. She snuggles up to me at night. ^_^
flutna says:
perhaps she treats you like another royal ITEM. Like... the royal hot water bottle.
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
That's something I've never though of.
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
I feel so used. ._.
flutna says:
don't worry
flutna says:
you use your kitty as a royal vibrator, so it's an equivalent exchange : )
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
....
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Baaaaaaad mental images there matey.
flutna says:
why?
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
A vibrator?
flutna says:
isn't it something that vibrates?
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
I think she'd bite me. Hard.
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Well, yes, um.
flutna says:
o_o
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Put frankly, vibrators are usually considered as sex toys.
flutna says:
... oh no. I hope a vibrator isn't something really b
flutna says:
OH.
flutna says:
eek.


I've had a sheltered life.

flutna says:
I think my brain just fried itself


lutna says:
hmm!
flutna says:
what kind of books do you read, you naughty girl?
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Nothing that involved vibrators I swear!
flutna says:
swear it upon the Name of Terry Pratchett
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
I swear upon Terry Pratchett, on all his godliness and awesomeness that I never read book that had vibrators in them.
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Hm.
flutna says:
=D
[Dream] Flight number SQ815, arrival time 1.20 pm. Read the personal message. says:
Must have been through diffusion.
flutna says:
this is blogworthy


And it was.

Two days ago

Cheryl: Yeah, I'm going to Japan on THURSDAY... oh yes, you guys want anything?
Me: I want a kitty hat.
Cheryl: The beanie kind or the sunhat kind? (mimes sunhat)
Me: Beanie. Failing which, I want a kitty bag!
Cheryl: Oh, with the ears?
Me: Yeah, as long as it's got ears on it. (Yes, I know I have strange fetishes.) Money is of no object!
Cheryl: Righty. Who else wants anything?
Grace: I'll pass. There's nothing I particularly want from Japan.
Cheryl: Aww. How about you David?
David: Get me a lock of hair from Shinzo Abe.
Cheryl: Who's Shinzo Abe? Is he a rock star?

beWare.

You Are 36% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well.In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

http://www.blogthings.com/howevilareyouquiz/">How Evil Are You?

they roamed the milky blue

I was on the train yesterday when the train, like every other train before it, left the tunnel and let the sunlight burst through its smeary windows.

It was sunlight as only sunlight could be in June. It threw such minute shadows that everything became crisp and sharp, like a photoedited print. The world took on a two-dimensional quality but for the clouds, which roamed the milky blue heavens in fantastic painterly detail. Crammed between the dead dozing faces of people who ride trains I craned my neck like a fool trying to commit the shapes and shades to memory. I swear I could see every caterpillar by which the train happened to pass. Each waxen leaf looked as though it were made of plastic. Even the disgusting smears on the window glass shimmered. Everything looked highly artificial. For a while I could not believe this was my country.

Voucher Vulture

I realise it's been a long time since I've blogged long and seriously about anything apart from cash-related whining. This is partially because the awareness that anything I say here can and will be used against me -- especially if it's intensely personal and clashes with someone else's system of priorities -- acts as a good dampener. XT is doing her KI IS on self-censorship, and she was very clever because I'm sure everyone, especially since all that Wee Shu Min rubbish, does it on their blog now (if not already everywhere else). Usually if I'm angry at something, like myself, I do some work or go to sleep. Everything is usually fine by the next morning.

But I thought this one deserved some attention, even if it IS cash-related whining. In fact, it is cash-related whining on an unprecedented scale, except that this time the problem of cash is of secondary importance compared to the issue at hand. To summarise: I've been buying lots of things lately. Not ALL of them are frivolous. Except that yesterday, looking at one particularly frivolous (though pretty) purchase on the last leg of a bus journey home at the end of a noisy day, I happened to remark that I was going to have to resolve to stop spending.

'You always say that,' said Grace.

Well, she's right. Look at the previous posts and see how many times I've sworn not to touch my money again at the sight of an exciting hat. That's excluding the private resolutions that don't make it onto the blog OR out of that fleeting moment of guilt. Hooray. No, don't tell me how many there are.

But the connotations are wrong. This time is slightly, but significantly, different. My previous resolutions were engendered from dismay at my shrinking hoard of private moolah and a delicious guilt at my audacity for spending so much (even if the purchases aren't entirely frivolous). This one wasn't a resolution in the first place. It was the acknowledgement of a nasty feeling that had been humping me all afternoon. i.e. I have had enough of being a statistically probable by-product of a booming capitalist economy.

I know I will never be tired of music, but if shopping were the food of love I am surfeit of it. All that comes after that is cloyment and the revolt. This after a week's worth of excited consumption, in which my funds dwindled faster than a criticised poseur's self-esteem. I enjoyed it while it lasted, and the finds were very good. It's just except that it's about time I stopped. Enough IS. This time the urge to stop buying things is not so much out of a self-imposed -- hence fallible -- guilty determination as of a fatigue, if one will, of all things that so much as dare to show themselves hanging off a mannequin or being coyly seductive through a shop window. It's not a very extreme reaction, because I'm still more than willing to buy something frivolous which I really like, but it's timely enough that I can screw the Great Singapore Sale and it's frippery and go back to being antisocial and miserly. There is, after all, work to do, friends to gabble with, a competition to win, and good food to eat.

Glad I've got it over and done with, and will attempt to spend most of the next two weeks studying. Going to NUS library tomorrow to see what they will cough up.

On the other hand, Kinokuniya refuses to. They don't allow you to order comics, even if they aren't stocking them in the shelves any more. That is simply counterproductive. It's as if they are trying to turn me apostate and shove me into the wide arms of Borders membership -- unless Borders is also party to this ridiculous policy. Bah.

But I still AM looking forward to getting some books, for I forsee good vouchers in the near future. Don't tell you why.



P.S. You are reading of the proud owner of seven hats. She is still a proud owner of seven hats, although she is likely not to expand her collection soon. She taints the minds of impressionable seniors by encouraging them all to buy hats.

not this week.

Hur hur hur. A whole week's worth of study break (I refuse to undignify it by calling it 'holiday') gone and what have I done? ShoPPING! Lots of shopping. Also, 9 hours of history makeup, 1 KI Paper 2, 1 two-hour stint of one bowl of glorious trifle and watching my Lit teacher's very small daughter interact with the Phantom DVD, 1 meet-the-people-session, Disc 1 out of LOTR:FOTR on wednesday and filing, if one excludes the peripherals. Quite a lot actually. Though not quite enough.

Next week I will order the whole set of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind manga, and try to make my money last so that there will be enough to pay with when it arrives. And mug like heck. Heck, do you hear me?! No more of assaulting the alarm clock or maundering over study places and complaining about the heat! I mean to MOIDER!!!!!

Next week.