Atlantic (and sorta Far East) Invasion

My sister was shipped from the city of Sex and the City to entertain me with her rising AP crisis (ergh, when I've got so much work?) during this crucial festive time and be my dish-washing slave for the week *cackles most evilly*.


I was hoping to feed her with good, no-nonsence, and distinctly British food. The previous sentences all culminates to Christmas Pleasures which she won't ever be able to have had she stayed at the other side of the pond to get lost in the jungle of Manhattan, especially Sainsbury's bakery mince pie, which may be a bit tacky but still managed to trap me in livid daydreaming wet-drool-dreams for the whole week. Yes, Christmas means food and only food (and good carol singing) to me, the ever-gluttonous Agnostic. The list also includes Ploughman's lunch (which I get massive, unstoppable, unbeatable cravings for about every year, and am now in heat), marmite (to see her reaction), baked beans on toast, full English breakfast, chicken tikka masala, and other British food I thrive in. I close my eyes and momentarily paw after phantom Branston's pickle.

Alas, that is not to be. She wants to pretend she's back home, which I can heartily understand, but that means she demands full cuisine of home food. Meaning; more works on my part. Rice needs to be cooked, soups needs to be made, meat marinated, dumplings conjured up, and more bicycle raids to Mill Road. Not that I don't like home food, I will wither and die without a steady input of them. I just fancy she will accept one or two meals where I don't have to watch over three pots at once. (Little Voice Inside Brain: Pickles! Cheddar! Toast! Butter! Honey! Tea! Pickles! Cheese! Butter! Crusty Bread! *repeats infinitum*)

No, I don't trust her around the kitchen, unless it be around the sink for washing-up.

I swear to you, on Christmas day I will feed her with mince pies.

= = = = = =

The Evil Drudgery Work Progress: STILL 0%. I'm starting to have a problem. Someone needs to hit me around the head asap.

And here I give you a quote.

"I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not. I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen — I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise, and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it."

from Neil Gaiman's 'American Gods'. Enjoy.

You'll be the death of me, Mr. Procrastination.

One can hardly call a 6-week holiday a privilege when your bedmate through the winter is an enormous chunks of work, and a start-of-term exam test (ah, what a lovely life to be! No wonder there's a facebook group called 'I'm a NatSci, get me out of here!') looming ever closer and closer. No, I refuse to call it an exam. To be, an exam is when it actually counts towards the general marks. No, I won't get thrown out even if I don't do well (hopefully). Even if I'm not blessed with genius brain, I am blessed with what sounds like 'bridge's only director of studies who's out to eat you there and then.

To scare myself than anyone else, here's my list of unavoidable Evil.

- Revision of all lecture notes during last term (sounds simple? Well, it sounds simple until you see the sheer amount of paper in my room. Hah.)
- past Tripos questions for QB, Cells and chemistry (Can't do them, too darn difficult, but oh well.)
- past Tripos essays for Cells
- (optional, but going to do it because I'm a masochist) redoing of some of my less-than-satisfactory essays set during last term

Current progress of Evil : freaking 0%

Oh Mr. Procrastination, you'll be the death of me.

Sometimes I think it is tragic that I love my subject with my heart and soul. I am a born bespectacled geek scientist and I know it myself. If I hated the subject it would make my incomprehension of the course material less tragic. (Well, admittably, except quantitative mathematics, which I abhor, and has atrocious marks to go with it.)

I suspect massacre of English grammar. You know? For once I do not have the heart to check it out.

December Report.

1. Review on Mooncup is coming. Am waiting for the Cycle to come back. How can I write a review on a product when I haven't tested it in action, huh?


2. I have found, to my utter shame, a LiveJournal 50 sentences challenges which has been neglected. For about a year. Hit me, Lord, hit me hard. I'm in a big, big trouble, people.

Also, it is incomplete (only 47/50 done), and...damn, I must have mysteriously improved during that one year of procrastination thinly disguised as dedication towards academia. I was this bad? *sobs* For tonight only, this takes more priority than my holiday work.

(One may notice that Josie's life lacks any sense of sensible prioritizing. Sorry, lived like this for 19 years, not likely to change)

Update: It's done! It's posted! I'll never have to mule over that gawddamn brothers ever again! (dances in relief)


3. Therefore, since I won't be posting any review on Mooncup until next year, I will post review on Temeraire, written by Naomi Novik and my recent Age-of-Sail fangirling droolage fictional obsession, as soon as the third book I have ordered through Amazon arrives (and after I finish reading it, of course. It's a very light read so should only take me a few hours to read it.) I have abandoned my ongoing Alexander Kent novel to read the first and second book of the series, and in my book, that is truly miraculous. I used to, and still nominate Mr. Reeman aka Kent as the Best Trashy Naval Author of Last Millenium. (and also the Best Slash Naval Author of Last Millenium, but let's not get there, shhhhhh...)

I was introduced to the series in a queer way; Anke-Katrin Eissman, an established Tolkien illustrator, and she's a woman of my heart - she is one of those select few who properly acknowledges that the most glorious, wondrous and delicious male character is Faramir, son of Denethor, the 27th steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, by grace of Elessar Telcontar, High King of Gondor and Arnor, Envinyatar the Renewer. I wrote that completely out of my head, ain't I great?

(You are in presence of Josie's Tolkien-Raving, the most potent form of Josie's Lethal Rambles. It is only natural, Tolkien is her oldest object of obsession; ever since she pulled out The Hobbit from a bookstore at tender age of 8. Lord of the Rings is the first proper English fiction I have ever read, and looking back on it...my gawd, how did I do that? I possess better-than-an-average-foreigner but still mediocre knowledge of British history, my command of Korean history is okay but fuzzy at places, my grasp of world history will get me through a pub quiz but nothing more academic; but I can pretty much recite names and history of Royal House of Finwë off my head. I think I'm sad. You think so, too.)

I digress (as usual).

Anke Eissman started drawing illustrations for Temeraire, and the drawings instantly caught my interests; Napoleonic naval battles plus aerial draconic battles? The only child of that union must be me screaming in my head "MUST HAVE THAT BOOK NOW, NOW, RIGHT NOW!!!"
(Her unique and marvelous water-painted illustrations for Temeraire and all Tolkien Middle-Earth saga can be found at her homepage.)

I am really confused. I was writing about Temeraire, why is there more words of Tolkien that of Naomi Novik?

Anyway, I need to calm myself down and finish of that 50sentences challenge, it's better late than never, or so I hope.

4. Oh, and forgot to add;
The first term of GAWDDAMN Cambridge has ended! Now I Can Sleep!
(It is true, I'll only get back just enough energy to get me through another 2 months of beating without being completely dead; but who's complaining? Sleep! Proper Food! Human Behaviour! Wooooooooot!)

Gaudare!

Rejoice, people of the world!

Rejoice, my minions! Sound the bells, roast the children, and feast into the night!

For lo, Behold!

Josie is 19!!


Am expecting presents to celebrate her last year as a teenager. Food , girly stuffs(cocktail dresses, boots, make-ups, accessories, scarfs, pumps), non-girly stuffs (computer games, character figures, books, vertigo comics, films with actual Brain in them, good symphony metal music albums), male concubines, a suitcase full of 50-quid notes, a collection of essential oils, magic weight loss pills, whatever.

Just don't send me chart CDs nor drugs.

Glycophillia.

The entire day of eating healthy food (supper: grilled salmon + mushroom + salad. Was fucking delicious) was promptly dashed about an hour ago by consuming a whole box packet (I kid you not) of this;











(Picture shamelessly stolen from BBC.)

Total 750kcal of marzipan goodness. Shit. I still have another box in the shopping bag (yes, I turned into a Battenberg-devouring monster moment I got back from Sainsbury). My plan is to hide it overnight, and share it with other people like a good girl should.

I think I do need that gym workout tomorrow morning...

FreeRice Challenge, and more about words

Here.

It's one of the most bloodily marvelous ideas spawned out of Internet. No hassles, no gruesome paperworks to be sent in, no pennies to collect nor shoe boxes to wrap up on disgusting christmas wrappings, and the rice is distributed by WFP so less fear of messy dealings...or one hopes.

Simple. Devious. I like it. (That's a quote from a computer game. Now you know what kind of a person I am.)

Rice is given to the hungry. We learn more vocabulary. Especially, I get the satisfaction that while I am supposed to be writing essays instead of agonising over a particularly difficult word, I do it because this is much more important than a sad piece of work about evolution of land plants. I'm out to save the world, watch out gals!

By the way, I'm at about level 36~40. I think that's pretty impressive from a person who's first language is not even remotely connected to English linguistically. *rampant arrogance*


ps. I have finally obtained Mooncup from Boots yesterday (and promptly felt cheated because online mail order was cheaper) Review will come later after I try practicing it. (Am actually on periods now, don't want to try it withtout getting absolutely confident on how to put it in and out, so practice will begin later when I don't have to worry about bloody floors)

Until then, my 20-quid silicone gizmo will sit on my sink in its pretty floral box packaging.

Obssessive-Compulsive Disorder

When I was in primary school, I had to step on alternate-coloured bricks each time because if I didn't I would break. Same applied for edges, cracks and lines on floors. You don't step on edges. You don't step on pink tiles. You need to move like a knight would if the floor tile's black-and-white chequered.

Well, I still do.

I was always uneasy with this blog, and guess what? It was because the font was too big. I promptly made them little and illegible, and now I feel complete and whole. My life is sorted now (well it never was, but this makes me feel better. Let me live in the delusion).

Generic shytes

1. It's so nice to see people having their birthdays in November. I only had about one other person who was born in November back in The Hoedean, then comes Cambwidge with a football squad of November-born people, and that's only within my circle of acquaintances, which is about 1/1000 of other normal denizens of this world. Only one word to say. Woohoo.

I am interested in a lot of pagan/superstitous/mythical ideas, some may say too much for a scientist, but then Dawkins should go and be spanked for being a bullying git. An amazing scientist and a decent writer (alas, the two qualities often do not go hand in hand) , but also a fanatical Arsehole.

I digress.

Astrology attempts to place people's behaviour according to when they were born. Actually it is according to positioning of stars the moment they were born, and since precise location of stars on the sky has moved since Astorology was devised it's not that accurate anyway, but it is interesting as a concept that people born around the same time have certain defining characteristics.

2. Some lovely MSN conversations;

People in London: So, when you're descending down upon here to plunder Chinatown and lay all London restaurants to waste in pretense of 'birthday dinners'?
Gaa: Hmm, I've got carol service on the day itself...but after that whenever's fine.
PiL: Sure? You don't have works to do or anything?
Gaa: *giggles* I break up that week.
PiL: DIE EVIL MANIAC DIE! *runs away in tears*

Gaa: Boo.
Rosanne(My amazing(ly American) younger sister and my slash protégé): Go away I'm busy.
Gaa: Well since I'm nearly at the end of the term I don't really care about work anymore. You sohuld do the same.
Rozy: I'll KILL YOU! USELESS SCUM! YOU DON'T EVEN WRITE PORNS ANYMORE!

Well, it's not my fault that I've got 6 weeks holiday...*smirk*

I kinda deserved the latter conversation because apparently high-school kids across the Atlantic have only 10-day holiday around the Christmas. Despite this, my sister has taken pity on my lonesome suffering during the holiday and is coming to stay with me for her *entire* winder holiday, during the time my college would be 'closed' (ie. no library, no buttery, practically noone around). No she really hasn't, she just wants me to tutor her on AP biology. Anyway, she's my sister and at least has half a brain so it'd be good, at least I am spared from beating those brainless bimbos into doing stuffs and expiring myself in the process. I am an impatient teacher.

I also deserved that conversation because I cleaned out my LJ account recently, not to pretend innocence, but to weed out loads of rubbish, to clean away embarrassingly bad stuffs and to deny that I had a complete standstill in the slashing business during 2 years of Sixth Form days. Besides, my taste changed considerably during the said years. I'm not really mature yet to face all my faults. Hopefully when the holiday begins I can start writing fics and other dreadful scraps again, ho ho ho!

I'd need a beta in that case. Hopefully you'd realise that my english grammar isn't...perfect. After 6 years of living in England, I can speak, listen to, read and write English with enough confidence to go around but sometimes some grammar points confuse me. To top it off, I'm record-breakingly clumsy.

It's just creepy that my written English is steadily getting better than my written Korean. True, I can write perfectly fluently in Korean, I very rarely make grammar or spelling mistakes, hell, most Koreans make more spelling fuckage than I do in writing, but my creative well is starting to dry up in the Korean side of the pool. I know why. It's because when it concerns creative writings I read way more in English than in Korean.

Well, can't help it.

3. My life's dream is slipping away from my hands. Ticketmaster is being extra evil and refusing to accept anything else than credit card for payment. There is no way that I can use my parents' credit card to buy me a ticket to go to a metal gig.

But, but, but but but but but but I want to see Teh Band Of Gawd Nightwish, please don't deny me from seeing my Hero Band from age 11. Please...*cries*

*Aurally masturbates by their music*

4. My birthday plan, by the way, is rapidly falling apart. Carol service on the day itself, supervision on Friday...there will be no problem spending time with people I know here, but when can I go and meet my minions mistressess companions in EBIL in London?

5. The word 'procrastinate' was my favourite word ever since I learnt what it meant. It describes what I aspire to be, what I am most good at.

Therefore the new title.

6. Is it just me that you fail to find any respect in people who write their fic works (fanfic or original) in chat-language? Yes, I use them in gay abandon, but only according to which person I'm communicating with. Doing that is like writing my essay in Lolz-tongue. (Hmm, might be interesting. YO FLAWA I CAN HAS MOAR SMEX WID U? I CAN HAS?) Please, people. This is about self-respect. You don't want to be seen as shallow idiots in front of stuck-up bitchs such as myself.

I Do Not Care Whose Fault It Is.

Natwest jinxed me.

Or there is someone in my corridor who likes collecting Natwest savings cashcard (it's bloody ugly anyway). I have never lost a bank card in my life until I entered university, and now I lost my savings account bankcards twice in two months. See where my frustration comes from?

I admit that I'm not the world's tidiest person, still, losing a card twice in two months after not managing to do so in 7 years, hmm, I might need to switch back to HSBC.

The disturbing thing is that the last time I used it I was in my room entering its number for my PayPal account. I think I have an invisible roommate, a famished monster who likes gourmet plastic cards. Do I need to make a human sacrifice to appease him?

I am going to the bank to request another card (the third card in two months), curl up to myself and give up with my life. Grrrrrr.........

First Sign of Detrimental Insanity; posting twice a day.

And I really don't care, because we all need to stop believing that being sincere is enough. Just because you believe it is true, does not mean that it is true. What the world need to do right now is join the Crusade of Unitarian Jihads. Let us strike this world with all our might, and strive against the Satanic Filth that is Fundamentalism!

You can be religious without being a Fundamentalist, and you can go to church without believing that Life as we know it was created by a Bearded Chump whose favourite sacrifice was lamb chop. Personally I am not keen on religion anyway, but I have some (sadly too few) wonderful examples of 'sensible' religious people. (Although they still try to convince me that religion is still in fashion. Well, I never followed fashion trends anyway.)



Bad thing about British Winter is that the room is becoming increasingly damp and inevitable damp-smell will follow suit. I never heard that Febreeze contains carcinogens or other nasty 20th-century chemicals, but even if it does, I think fresh and nice-smelling bed today is worth having your cancer risk raised by, I don't know, 5%?

None shall stop be Febreezing my beddings. Oh, and my stuffed toys.



What is it with my college that we are subtlely deprived of making music, or it is me being stupid enough not to know how my college's music room system works?

It's Called MITTELSCHMERZ!

'Middle Pain', as my AS-level German tells me so. It describes abdominal cramp or pain during ovulation, and this happens to about 20% of women, it is just like mentrual pain, without the obvious 'menstrual' bit. I really don't need two cramps per menstrual cycle (which is very, eh, elastic at its own discretion), thank you very much.

For more clinical information, please consult Wikipedia.

So after a lovely ice cream party and feeling slightly better about myself *thanks to all of you who gave me actual/virtual hugs during my terminal depression last week* the Flocking Goddess of Pain hits me square and I end up snuggling inside the duvet to do work instead of in front of a desk.

I shall not envy men quite yet. It is through pain that we become something greater. (This is me self-hypnotizing self. Therefore any argument against will not be taken seriously, simply because the above sentence is not to be taken so. Also, I do not believe that women are superior or inferior than men. That's just childish.)


How am I supposed to do work when I am having cramps accompanied by a full-bast ovulation-mood?

Hormones, sneaky bastards...

Welcome to Hell on Earth, by the way it's called Cambridge on maps...

If you know a smidgen about me, you'd know that state of my room rotates between about 6~30 days of what closely resembles a nuclear aftershock, and about 1 or 2 days of cleanliness when I cannot deal with it anymore and (miraculously) shoves everything in its right places.

I like to think that it resembles my mind state.

Being on the losing side of a battle is not fun. Being on the losing side of a battle against oneself is not only un-fun but very, very painful. It's one thing to bash one's head against a seemingly impossible (but to others ridiculously easy, or so it seems to me) mathematical problem, fail miserably, fling one's supervision questions fluttering down the floor, curl up to oneself and bask in utter misery, but to find yourself suddenly tumbling into self-remorse and depression during a lecture and secretly bow one's head and start crying. If anyone saw me today in Cell's lecture frantically trying to mop off tears from my face, I was mourning for my long-deceased self-confidence. It's nothing, really.

On the lonesome deathbed.

Fresher's Cold + Depressions + Short budget + Insomnia (and subsequent headache) = Not A Good State To Be.

I have never felt this depressed before. I really need to talk to someone, but there isn't anyone who seems to be able to listen. I do have good friends, but they are all in London/Liverpool/Newcastle/US and can't help me except with Facebook and MSN...

...at least I want my mobile phone crisis to be sorted.

Hilarious journal post by the Greatness Incarnate Neil Gaiman

Neil Gaiman, one of those extremely talented people whom I worship obssessively and excessively for their sheer genius, wrote this on his blog.

http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/2007/10/walking-green-carpet.html

And the bit which made me laugh so hard was this...



"I'm going to tell you my favourite part of the evening, which was talking to Kate Magowan about Una (which is the part she plays in the film), and her calling over her husband to meet me, a husband who turned out to be John Simm, who interrupted my stumbling burbles of "ulp Life on Mars erk The Master" with his own starry-eyed "glunk The Sandman!" and pointed out that that meant he'd been a fan of mine for much longer than I'd been a fan of his so hahah and there you go."


Neil Gaiman is a wonder of this side of the galaxy, and John Simm is nothing short of a kickass acting genius, one of many wonderful acting genii in Britain! (And because he melted me right on spot in Life on Mars and Doctor Who, just like what he did to Neil Gaiman! XD)



As for me, I gurgle for them both glunk glunk glunk.

*happily foams over her mouth*

Test, test, tests....

Your Score: Outcast Genius

56 % Nerd, 65% Geek, 60% Dork

For The Record:



A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.



You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius.



Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject).



Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius.



Congratulations!



Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following:



Buffy the Vampire Slayer




Professional Wrestling






Love & Sexuality




America/Politics




Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

==============================================================

Hmm, outcast genius...yeah, the 'outcast' bit definitely sounds like me. Maybe 'outcast, pervy, brain-addled and obsessive-compulsive fangirl' is more accurate :P

University, Summer Holidays, and about Words.

Am writing this while being surrounded by number by ever-increasing random articles strewn around my room. Those of you who have seen my room will have realised that I am currently stranded on my bed without any means of getting to the door without a) stepping past various objects, none of which I recognise as being 'worthy of being trodden', or b) flying/teleporting/whatever to the door. However, you have to appreciate that my room here is much, much bigger than back in the good old days of Hoedean (note: should be read 'Roedean' in public).

It is not entirely my fault that I am cooped into a seige by invading forces of two suitcases and various other shopping bags full of would-be-useful stuffs. I had to desist my dad from buying me a frying pan. There we go, I said it. (Of course, some may point out that a frying pan is much more versatile and perhaps less evil than my iPod speaker, but that is not the issue here.)

So, Unis. Among all of my dear comrades in suffering (and giving suffrance unto the world) back in my schooldays, some of you are already there. Some of you, like me, is contemplating invention of portable TARDIS suitcase against the hopeless invasion of stuffed cats and embroidered pillows which YOU MUST BRING TO THE UNI OR ELSE YOU WILL SURELY DISSOLVE IN YOUR OWN SORROW. Some of you aren't going there until next year and are currently basking in the glowing metaphorical sunshine called the Gap Year.

In any case, it has been months since my school days were over and done with. Maybe it is just how life works, that I still feel as blind as I ever was.


= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =


I can proudly boast that I did NOTHING during the summer holidays. Well, I slept (too much), I ate (too little), I lost weight (too much, but not enough), I did random voluntary works (for short period of time), I learned to dance (until September, when I just didn't have enough energy to shake my boobies anymore), I did some local and brief overseas travelling, and I mentally recuperated.

Or I was supporsed to metally recuperate.

Maybe I need to change the opening sentence. I did NOTHING CONSTRUCTIVE during the summer holidays. I didn't part-time, I didn't try to learn new things (yes, I have shamelessly gave up on reading the reading list. It's actually difficult, you know what I mean.), I didn't run about trying to socialize.

So that was my parents' reasoning behind labelling me as a good-for-nothing couch potato who doesn't deserve anything. Because I don't go around befriending random people in work/other adult social environment I will fail at life. Wow. Wonderful summary of my post-uni life. I should really applaud at the foresight.

(Of course, applauding at that exact moment would probably have cost me at least my face. Don't want to be mauled, you see.)

I know socializing is important. In actual fact I like socializing. I like picking out gems of fun, talent, kindness or bits of all three in the hoard of unknown which is the human population. So what if they are just pretense? Hating people just for hypocricy is the most immature thing you can ever do. I know it too. World is built around hypocricy, and sometimes it can do so much good.

I don't function so that wherever I walk dozens of new acquaintences sprout out of ground. Having people surrounding you in a network does have its advantages, but I can function well with a few people I can have deep conversation with, people with whom I share a passion, people with whom I can talk with.

So when they say that I don't have true friends because I have to take a plane to see them (sorry to people. I don't think they meant it so that they don't like you. It's more of meaning that I should have more Korean friends. And you know what I think about most typical Koreans :D), I really wonder what they mean by 'true friends'.

Actually their comment that I have wasted the most precious three months of my life is probably not entirely uncorrect. Every second is the most precious time of your life, and I spent it doing nothing constructive (and too much near my computer, but let's put that issue aside, I know I'm an interent addict, but at least I'm not a mobile phone addict. That costs much more that internet :P).

And I don't regret it, all in all. I know I could have spent that months earning more money and social experience (which my parents think I criminally lack). I could have learnt to speak other languages (what, more?! *groans*), to play jazz piano (I don't really know. Do you need extra appendage for that?) , or to be able to drive (they shoudn't have said 'no' when I suggested that back in July). I could have done anything and everything time could allow, but I spent them, in short, procrastinating.

And I don't regret it.

I don't really know why. I know that I am completely and wholy rested in body (and in addition, in my physically fittest state since back in the primary school), and ready to tackle rest of my life. I haven't felt like this in years.

Maybe they're right, I am only justifying myself because I like procrastinating and I have no vision of my future. Maybe because I acually *want* to end up in a gutter.

They said years back that if I don't go to a good university I will fail at life. I ended up in what they measure is a 'good' university. Now they say even though I ended up there by some freak chance because the professors were deluded for that one day they did interviews, I will fail at life anyway because...

...because I don't aspire.

Actually I do aspire. I do want to be good, actually I am more competitive than even I want to believe, sometimes ashamed by it because I can't accept defeat even when I should. Aspiring is good. I want to be happy, I want to be free. I want to do whatever I want, and in that 'whatever-I-want' category I want to be as good as I can be.

If they wanted to say 'you shoud've done something constructive during the holidays', they could have used less offending language. Because comparing people to a psycho mass killer is neither PC nor fun.

Yes, the Virginia Tech one.


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Sorry for the rant, but not having ready supply of backyard bitching sessions does stack up my stress level, all with the suitcases which refuse to contain more clothes :S