a girl named..

ginny cracked an eye open, a little afraid she might break the spell if she opened her eyes too quickly. the sunlight streaming in in shredded strips through the broken windows cast her room in gold.

she didn't dare stir.


watching her tin ceiling through her lashes she imagined how she must look if someone were to stand at the boarded doorway, watching her. how her hair must glow and how ethereal she must look - she must look like a princess - no, like a fairy - awakening from her fair, delicate slumber.


...it made spending nights on the hard floor in the hay worth it. almost worth it.

slowly, and a touch unwillingly, she opened her eyes fully and laid there a while more.


it was nice being woken up by the sun, she thought, but i have to wake, and waking up means taking myself off the floor.



and the day thus begins.

strange thoughts

a certain ms tan mentioned today that an acquaintant of hers - his body was found in the carpark somewhere. she doesn't know what happened to him.

which reminds me of my thoughts about my own mortality. i've always thought i'm the kind to die young - cancer, or an accident, or falling off the cliff somewhere on my first trip out to "see the world".


..i've always thought i would die young.

it breaks my heart

damien rice - blower's daughter

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her skies

I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you...
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...
'Til I find somebody new

full life

yes, i live a full life, over at where i am at. :)

i am loving my work, my usual picadillos of deadlines and tricksy people.



fantastic! okay. be careful, now... do not let the high go to my head. steady, now...

fangs

bunny grew fangs today.


: x

knowledge

garnering knowledge means more than just typing in words at google....


and, obliquely in lieu with the train of thought:

"you don't know how you met me you don't know why
you can't turn around and say goodbye
all you know is when i'm with you i set you free
and swim through your veins like a fish in the sea

"i'm singin', follow me, and everything is alright
i'll be the one to tuck you in at night
and if you wanna leave i can guarantee
you won't fond nobody else like me"


-excerp from unkle kracker's "follow me".

the story of the honest woodcutter

you know the story of the woodcutter, who got a golden axe and a silver axe for being honest about his original axe?

well, that's not the end of the story, because the man didn't sell the axes.

for those axes are magical since they're golden and such, being gifts from fairies wanting to get rid of the odds and ends in their overstuffed maic vaults. the golden can actually return to the axe-wielder's hands after being thrown and slicing clean through whatever that stands in its trajectory.

the silver axe, on the other hand, grants the axe-wielder longetivity and health. that's why it's the size of a small pendant and can be worn around the neck - so it won't have to be lugged around like an extra ball and chain. thus the effect is: as long as the bearer of the silver axe has the artifact about the person, he is prevented from ageing.

so you see, with the two axes, the bearer of the axes is practically unkillable, even if he were peaceful.

but in times of war, the honest woodcutter's hand is forced, for the duke - not knowing the full story behind his prowess and longetivity - has heard of this curious man's "abilities" and had his family kidnapped and had the man fight in the war.

and so begins londis's tale...

nina simone!

this song is so upbeat it makes me feel alive just listening to it!

not the lyrics, just the tune. juuust the tune.


Love me or leave me and let me be lonely
You wont believe me but I love you only
Id rather be lonely than happy with somebody else

You might find the night time the right time for kissing
Night time is my time for just reminiscing
Regretting instead of forgetting with somebody else

Therell be no one unless that someone is you
I intended to be independently blue

I want you love, dont wanna borrow
Have it today to give back tomorrow
Your love is my love
Theres no love for nobody else

Say, love me or leave me and let me be lonely
You wont believe me but I love you only
Id rather be lonely than happy with somebody else

You might find the night time the right time for kissing
Night time is my time for just reminiscing
Regretting instead of forgetting with somebody else

Therell be no one unless that someone is you
I intended to be independently blue

Say I want your love, dont wanna borrow
Have it today to give back tomorrow
Your love is my love
My love is your love
Theres no love for nobody else

attraction

oh, yes. it's good to know you're attractive.

:) i'm not outright sexy like a certain ms tan, but then i never was.



but it's certainly good to know that i am noticed by the boys. (thank you, Lord, Your ways of making me feel loved is extraordinary! i love You, too! ^^)

the shower

yeeeeep the shower and the bath is meant for one: ME.


^^

the truly romantic die of TB

it's better than dying of aids.


then again, those who are truly romantic, had been hurt and aren't willing to chance it again - those visit prostitutes. they pay for love because they either won't take it or they aren't given love.

prostitutes.


every lonely man needs one. and every lonely romantic man needs a pack of condoms.

this is how love should be

"she thinks she needs me" - andy griggs

she thinks i walk on water
she thinks i hung the moon
she tells me every mornin
they just don't make men like you
she thinks i've got it together
she swears i'm as tough as nails
but i dont have the heart to tell her
that she dont know me that well

she dont know how much i need her
she dont know i'd fall apart
without her kiss
without her touch
without her faithful lovin arms
she dont know that its all about her
she dont know i cant live without her
she's my world she's my everything
and she thinks she needs me

sometimes she cries on my shoulder
when she's layin next to me
but she dont know that when i hold her
that she's really holdin me
holdin me

she dont know how much i need her
she dont know i'd fall apart
without her kiss
without her touch
without her faithful lovin arms
she dont know that its all about her
she dont know i cant live without her
she's my world she's my everything
and she thinks she needs me

yea now the funny thing is
she thinks she's the lucky one

she dont know how much i need her
she dont know i'd fall apart
without her kiss
without her touch
without her faithful lovin arms
she dont know that its all about her
she dont know i cant live without her
she's my world she's my everything
and she thinks she needs me

She thinks i walk on water
She thinks i hung the moon

you know you're still in love...

you know you're still in love when an unexpected call makes you smile; that his kisses over the telephone makes you want to dance on the world like some cartoon you see on greeting cards.

you know you're in love when his tenderness makes you tear and you wouldn't exchange this moment for any other moment you've had. ever.





...okay maybe except for the time when you saw that annoying's kid ice-cream fall to the floor.........

regurge.

i feel like throwing up.

okay, here it is:

i'm mad at the whole army thing.


alright. i feel better now.

i have a voice.

in all my years of writing, i never have had issues with "finding my own voice".

never.


but recently, i seem to have to scrabble on the bare rocks of my grasp on language, the landscape of the grasp of the language, when it had been lush before.

or maybe that simply was what i had needed, what i required, nothing more.


maybe i had been living in a desert and had survived on "locusts and wild honey" - and had never tasted the literal joys of having a christmas feast complete with choclate pudding. though - how is that possible?

do i question myself now, after this many years of writing? or is it truly writing?

had i been very simply wringing metaphorical water from the rocks of the language desert that i thought was pure oasis?


now why do i question this?

because someone else told me "it" - my writing - is not good enough?

is it - CAN it, rather - be bad? ahem, let me say that again: CAN it ever be bad? because you - YOU - wrote it?


hm. this, is what i call "pits of growth". pits.



because when you fall into a hole, you realise you can climb.

our feathered friends

i've been watching this particular anime titled tactics, right, and there are three characters. the three main characters are a ghostbuster (ish), a fox spirit and a demon-eating tengu - which is japanese for heavenly dog. all three appear in human form.

tengus tend to be creatures of good and this particular one in the anime is no exception, only he's the stereotypical cool guy of the group: tall, fair of face and possesses a strong silent aura about him. absolutely yummy.

and to add a touch of mystery to him, the chap who'd written the original script's made it such that the yummy tengu is amnesiac.

but i digress...


so the tengu, right, has wings and he can sprout them when he needs some aerial mode of transportation or just for theatrical kicks (kicks as in "just fer kicks", not the literal *atchaaa* kick). here's the thing: i noticed the feathered characters in this anime have a tendency of dropping feathers each time they spread their wings to fly. i mean, i know feathers are romantic. sprinkled about, they can be very, very, er, shall we say - feathery? it's about pillowfights and good, cheeky fun.


i can't help but notice, however, that his wings aren't bald yet at the rate he's dropping them. just look at the birds around you - pigeons, sparrows - hell, ostriches if you live in afrique - just how many feathers do you see them dropping each time they decide to flap their wings? chances are: not many.

if they're dropping feathers by the score then you can be pretty sure that it's shedding season, like how the peacock's backside discards its pretty decorations after the time to impress the ladies had past. truth be told, the amount of feathers left drifting down to the ground whenever that tengu decides to take a flight - i'm surprised his wings are still covered in feathers.


do you suppose he plucks them our of nervousness when he wonders about his past? or maybe he thinks that THAT's distasteful and therefore only tweaks them so they won't fall out?

hmm. well. that man's got some serious stress; what with him having to defend his less-capable friends, having to deal with being a sidekick despite his charming package and, from how the story's presented, the possibilities of being a homo.


man, that chap's got some serious issues. maybe the feathers are indicative of something after all.

nothing like a...

nothing like a dead bug hidden in a rolled-up tissue paper to clear the insecurities/irks. here's how it happened:

i was having a runny nose and had absently pulled a new piece of tissue from the box and, after wiping my nose with it, squished it and proceeded to roll one part of the tissue into a shape that would ahem, clear my nose more effectively.

and as i was ..in the process.. of clearing my other nostril, i noticed something different about the tissue. it smelt different, a bit like, well, not like woodsy pulpy like tissue paper. so, in the same absent manner, i sniffed at it close-range and wondered why it should smell that way at only one end when i had used - well, both ends. and since i found it impossible to describe..

...i moved my hand from under my nose (still holding said rolled tissue) and looked at it. when the image came to focus (close range peering) i hollered and tossed the soiled thing into the crevice between my bed and the wall: there it was, the offending thing, all legs and feeler cocooned within the layers. yes i saw only one feeler.

no i didn't think the OTHER feeler was stuck in my nose then, i was too surprised for that.

and no i didn't know what insect it was, since my immediate concern was that it was far away from me, not identification.


...

it was two cartoon episodes and vigorous huffing exercises later, i decided that i'd rather it rot in the wastepaper bin than behind my bed, if it were really dead of course (some insects do play dead, you know)..............


thus with my thumb and forefinger i picked up the flung tissue and looked at it gingerly, if there's any way to look at anything gingerly.

the good news? it's dead, it's not a baby roach. the bad news? there's ONE, just ONE, but it's there anyway - bug, very much smaller than the original dead one, looks like a mite (yes, it's that small) not far from where the dead bug is. i don't know if it's one of those lil mite-like things that live off other deceased bugs and if it is i'd just had the entire dead bug's worth of it up my nose.......


well. crawling skin aside: the consolation is that no part of the bug could have been left inside of my honker (i'd've felt the scrape if it were).

...i think i'll go back to my anime. >.<

strange thoughts in my mind

i have funny ideas when it comes to men telling me they're doing little more than "nothing" at home, when no one's about.

phobia, is what i think it is. phobia and a deep distrust.


i don't know what that signifies and it sets me on edge.