Blarghness.

Been sleeping 12 hours a day as of late. Feel like shit.

Currently listening to:

A song after my own heart, this is.

Not really busy. Just trying to keep myself sane.

Grinding on Chapter 9 my current fanfic. ...'Cause, really. Why the hell not? I don't have anything better to do. Need something to distract myself from the banging headache anyways. Withdrawal's a bitch.

Still need to catch up on the latest 3 episodes of Fringe, though I've already been spoiled (I have dick friends). Ah well. No rush.

I heard about Skins US. Been thinking about watching it (For the chicks, as always). Heard it's not as good as the UK one, but I wouldn't know.

Well, back to work.

Currently listening to: Northern State - Sucka Mofo

Finally done! W00t!

Finally done with the latest chapter of my fanfic. Blargh.

The link is here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6224563/1/Charmed

Too lazy to post it here.

Yay? ...Nay.

That's right. That's my empty last pack. LAST PACK. EMPTY.


Another day without cigarettes. I know it's better for me to just kick the habit, but... Have you ever tried to? Feels fucking horrible. There should be a special part of Hell that's there just to simulate the sensations of a nicotine withdrawal.


Anyone that's currently trying to quit a bad habit, be it smokes or booze or stalking a smoking hot neighbor... You have my sympathy. Lord knows you deserve it.


Writing goes a lot slower without my smoky catalysis. I'm about 2000 words into the latest chapter of my fanfiction. That's right. Fanficion. By which I mean my dyslexia-riddled Hermione/Fleur femslash fanfic.


For the curious few, here's the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6224563/1/Charmed


On a happier note, here's a recent study about how "medical clowns" boosting the success of an in-vitro fertilization.


Those of you who are interested in this particular side of medicine, University of Haifa is offering a degree for exactly that.


I don't know about you, but I'm not letting a clown near my cooch. No, sir. My coulrophobia is too strong for that. The moment one of these "medical clowns" step into the room, I can feel my egg go floooph... Right back to the fallopian tubes. Just give me the turkey baster any day.

Of Home and Here

"People are always shouting they want to create a better future. It's not true. The future is an apathetic void of no interest to anyone. The past is full of life, eager to irritate us, provoke and insult us, tempt us to destroy or repaint it. The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past." 

- Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Photo Credit goes to bwilkson

It's now February 1st. I have 28 days left till my return to Malaysia for uni.

I don't want to go back there, nor do I want to stay here. "Here" is a home that feels more like a familiar truck stop. You grab a couple of bites and talk to faces that you have grown to know. But no matter how much those people there say you belong with them, you just want to be on your way.

You know in your heart that “Here” is not home.

I like to think that Houston is my home despite having only lived there for 3 years. This might seem like a hilarious notion to most people, since I'm not even American. But my “home” most certainly isn't in Thailand or Malaysia. Despite having been back in Thailand for years now, being here still gives me a constant stream of culture shocks. It's often the little things like people not knowing what football (By which I mean “American football” for you Commonwealth folks out there) is and the existence of people who never have even heard of insightful novels like The Handmaid's Tale, Mansfield Park, We, The Count of Monte Cristo, Specimen Days, and The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

These things may seem insignificant and I might seem like I'm nitpicking, but I say that it's the little things that will kill you in the end.

I have a lot of friends who could relate to that, since they are either 1^st or 2^nd generation of Missionary Kids (International schools are great like that). When I ask them “Do you ever want to go back to [your passport country]”, most would say no. But like myself, most of them would eventually have to go back. The reasons often vary, from family situations to the pursuance of a higher education to their parents fearing that their children have lost their sense of nationalism (Admittedly, most Americans MK's seems to have no problem with this one).

So I'm “home” but I continue to be lost. Houston is a home that is not a home, that was a home that I can never go back to ever again.

Sometimes I think God hates me.


Currently listening to: 

Self-Decapitating* Dyslexia Jokes

First gamer: "You know that joke about a dyslexic and Action Replay codes?"
Second gamer: "Which one? There are so many."

Teacher: “You have horrible grammar.”
Dyslexic: “You’ve never even met her.”

First dyslexic cook: “Can you smell gas?”
Second dyslexic cook: “I can’t even smell my own name.”

How many dyslexics does it take to change a lightbulb? 

- Eon.

I have either dyslexia or dyscalculia....I don't know, one of the three.

Did you hear about the dyslexic homeless guy?
He held up a sign reading "Will fuck for wood."

----

I don't know whether to get mad at these or just laugh, so I'll just do both. Just don't ask me to type when I'm tired (like now) or read any of Shakespeare's works out loud, hmkay?


* Is also a joke. The word is supposed to be "deprecating", not "decapitating".

So I'm a shallow ho. Sue me.

Do you have a preference? As in a physical preference for a girl/guy of your dreams. Personality is not taken into consideration here, 'cause it's supposed to be purely based on physical appearance.


As much as I hate to admit it, I do have one.


I know what rocks my boat, so sue me.


Well, here's mine:


Gender: Female
Older or younger: Older is preferred, but not TOO much older.
Eye color: blue : Green
Hair color: Ginger
Height: 5'5" or above
Wide hips or Narrow hips: Either is fine.
Body:  Toned
Skin: White
Glasses: GLASSES!!!
Piercings: No piecings except for ears. 
Dress: Fashionably geeky
Makeup: No make up
(Female) Breasts: B-ish?


So what's yours?

Pre-work out: Meh. Post-work out: KILL ME NOW.

Just got back from the gym. I definitely feel like shit now. Everything is so sore and it's barely an hour ago. And my jumper's knee acted up again. It's like God is trying to tell me "Hate you too, lol. :3" FML.

That aside, will definitely be getting one of these. Yessir.

I really have got to stop smoking. Like, really stop. Since I'm home for the break, I've been smoking a lot less (Once a day, give or take). It still doesn't change the fact that, break or not, I've been smoking. I'm not a heavy smoker, but I wanted to cough my lungs out when I was jogging just an hour ago. If that isn't a sign teabagging me, I don't know what is.

Empty cigarette packs are also a sign, apparently. Yes, I've officially ran out of tobacco. THE WORLD IS GOING TO END.

It's not easy to get cigarettes in Thailand. Well, not as easy as Malaysia. It's everywhere in Malaysia. And they don't sell Mild Seven here in Thailand.

Did I mention I'm Thai? Whoops. Should've mentioned that.

Fun fact about Thailand:

It's easy to get cigarettes when you're in a tourist zone (non-religious attractions, pubs, ladyboy bars. You name it). But outside... As in... You know where people actually live and work instead of party? Yeah, that. There's nowhere else you can get them aside from 7-11's. The smoke ban here is pretty bad.

All this smoke talk makes me want a strong fag, so I'll move on.

I went to the bookstore after that. I was eyeing Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey, but it became obvious to me that they ran out. [Insert RAGE here]. I was determined to get something anyway, so I got Terry Pratchett's Unseen Academicals. Been reading it on my way back. If I decide I still liked it after I finished it, maybe I'll give it a review.

Re: Self loathing and being awesome.

It's almost 4 AM where I am and I still can't sleep. My body just hates me like that.


Just finished reading Overthinker's latest blog post over at http://overthinking-everything.blogspot.com/2011/01/self-loathing-and-being-awesome.html. 


My response was:

"If I have a friend who treats me like how I treat myself, at least I'll have someone to smoke with. It's a little lonely being the only smoker in my immediate circle of friends.

I'm kidding, of course. Not about the smoking part, but about how much better my life will be with a friend like that."

Is it short-sighted? Very. 


See, the major problem with me and the whole "If you had a friend who treated you the way you treat yourself, how long would you stay friends?" question is that I find it hard to smoother myself with the kind of self-love that everyone deems so necessary nowadays. And if such a friend exists, she would be the most overbearing, judgmental bitch on Earth, with no clear goal for me except to let me the hell be and never expect anything worthwhile from me. She would still make snarky remarks, of course, but she will never do anything that will push me to where I need to be.


Sounds lovely, doesn't it? The worst part is that despite the obvious glaring flaws this "friend" has, I would still continue to be friends with her. Why? Because since she's so critical of me, at least I can be sure that she will never, ever spare my feelings. And in that, somewhere, lies the truth. A very twisted form of the truth, but the truth nonetheless.


Of course, this question wouldn't be such a huge problem if only we weren't so damn critical on ourselves. But who else can we count on to be the best judge of our actions? You can hide from parents and friends and people, but you can never hide from yourself. God? As religious as I am, which really isn't that much, I'm sure He can see everything. But there's no feedback. There's no push, no thunder and fire to set our sorry asses to action. Counting on sign from God? Good luck with that.


In the end, only we can see the mistakes in ourselves and fix them. Or forgive ourselves and forget them. So, yeah... We're kinda screwed in that regard.

Blargh.

I don't usually blog, but I'm feeling diligent right now. This, while immaterial, too shall pass.

A bipolar in the middle of her depressive episode being "diligent" sounds hilarious, of course. But I'm sick of lounging around all day without a thing to do or a friend to have a prolonged conversation with. Friends? They're all busy with school or just really far away. The curse of having a long break, I suppose.

But I'm going out tomorrow to work out. Hope that'll help cheer me up a little. Maybe I'll find a good book to buy for once. Something that's not classic literature. Classic literature seems too depressing to me right now. I need something lighter and more modern. No more Russian literature for me, no sir.

I heard Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey is really good. Maybe I'll give that a try.

Currently listening to: Jaymay - One May Die So Lonely

Hi.

Since this is my first post, I believe introductions are in order.

Age: 19
Gender: Female (In b4 spew of TITSORGTFO, amirite?)
Occupation: Undergrad student
Location: SEA. Kinda between places ATM.

Hi, everyone!