new home ---> here

<3333

Didn't realize how much I missed everyone before I saw them. <3

Thank you mar-chan for the distraction // swirly-sound stick.  As usual, am muchly amused.  And OMGWTF license?! 

*is with the intense jealousy*

Video is DONE.  Fin. Geëindigd.  Rifinito.  Or something.  I just need to put it into the computer that's being used tomorrow and it's DONE. 

Damn you Wuthering Heights for being impossible.  Or maybe my brain's all mushy from two months without mental stimulation. 

JumpStart 2005 = skwerks.  What that means, I don't know yet. 

G-chan and I want tarsiers. 

Lab coats.  XD

Elizabethtown = done deal. 

Where the fuck is my extended edition?

Remakes of classics are smexy. 

Done. 

What do you do all day?

-- What do you do all day?

Do you like, plot ways to take over the world or something because I've heard all sorts of things about short Asian girls who don't pick up their cellphones when people are trying to talk to them and you're pretty shifty-eyed AND I dunno, that just seems like something you would do.

-- ...For your sake, I'm going to take that as a...compliment? Or something. 

So really, why don't you just pick up your cellphone? What are you, afraid it's gonna bite?  We've had this conversation before remember?  It's an inanimate object.  It has no free will.  Unless like, the CIA got to it and planted some computer chip pro--

I'm blathering again aren't I?

So answer my question.  What do you do all day?

-- Read books. Remember those? The weird-smelling things with pieces of paper in between two hard pieces of cardboard and squiggles on each page? Or I write. Because I'm so scared that I'll forget all the crazy ideas that have been running through my mind since the start of summer and have no starting points for my four English classes. When I'm not doing that, I'm listening to all sorts of music to get the breathing under control and honestly, I still love listening to the sappy stuff. The kind that makes me go squee. And sigh. When I get tired of doing all that, I start watching my latest obsession kill Orcs via DVD. Other times, I just get really quiet and think about all the stuff happening aound me. And I'm getting better at controlling my outburts and my feelings because really, that's a complication I can't afford during my last year. At night, I try taking walks around my block. I may not be five years old anymore but what's the harm in wishing on a star? And other times, I'm with the family because God knows I probably won't see much of them this year, what with me trying to soak up every last bit of you all before we all go off into this Big World.

Nothing really.

          Ben Jelen
    Setting of the Sun

She sits besides him
Stares out across the waves
As she's digging in the sand
And looks around her
And knows this crazy world
Would never understand
And she says

Please
Would you find me?
I've lost my way
Please
Would you help me?
Now

He wakes to find that
He's out of love again
And it's time for him to run
And back inside her
He feels his innocence
slowly setting with the sun
And he says

Please
Would you save me?
I'll lose my way
Please
Would you help me?
To escape

And he writes his life
In the setting sun
And the reasons why
We may not know
We live our lives
'Til we come undone
We just have to believe
We just have to believe

It goes like this.

One minute she's racing, heart pounding, throat dry and eyes watery with the strain of keeping them all in. 

The next, she's lying quiet and wondering how the fuck everything got so crazy and where were you the day they taught everything at the School of Life.

It goes like this.

There's always been something different about you and you hate to think like that because isn't it just so cliche and conceited and arrogant and that's not her, not her not her. 

The last thing she wants to be is average. 

It's not that she has any super powers or magic abilities like that what'shisname in the storybooks -- for all her eccentricities, she's not delusional (or so she's always told me and who am I to question someone so obviously above me?).  But there had always been something that told her that she wasn't like the rest. 

Or maybe that's just herbeing hopeful.  She's always loved the feeling of spotlights and the fact that there are countless of others hanging by their throats backstage means nothing to her. 

Not that she's selfish.  Oh no, never that.  That would be unheard of.  But she's not a paragon of virtue. 

She's special. 

She's divided yourself into halves, fifths and sixths all for the sole purpose of convincing herself that she isn't wrong because really it wasn't her who tripped that nice girl (who just happened to be her only competition for the title of Most Likely to Succeed, not that I'm implying anything because that would be rude and I'm nothing if not polite. ). 

It was Janet--

(that sadistic bitch hate her hate her)

--but she didn't mean it really she didn't. 

 It wasn't Jane who kicked that little kid's ball out onto the tracks when she knew (yes she knew, she memorized the schedule when we took that trip to the Big City) the 5:00 train would be round to pick up its daily fodder. 

It was Jan--

(but then she was always such an angry child and isn't it so sad how her mother just couldn't handle her anymore)

--who pulled the light switch on when she knew her father would be changing the light bulb in the kitchen (because really who could have guessed that the scent of burning human flesh could smell so very sweet?)

It wasn't Jane Doe. 

Jane Doe is a perfect mix of orange juice and vodka.  She is demure enough to intrigue the most vulgar of men, and vulgar enough to intrigue the most sophisticated. 

Jane Doe is beautiful.  She is delicate, but not frail.  Earthy but not homely. 

Jane Doe is not homicidal, masochistic or mentally unstable.

Jane Doe would never make a

mis·take  (m-stk) n.

1. An error or fault resulting from defective judgment, deficient knowledge, or carelessness.

It goes like this.

There are so many of her running around inside her head.  Halves, fourths and sixths of her.  All of them responsible for fell deeds ranging from the pseudo-innocent to the almost-murderous. 

But she remains pure. 

Untainted.

A pristine-pink piece of hell hidden behind beguiling smiles and come-hither eyes. 

Two halves do make a whole.

But six-halves, seven-fourths, three-fifths and one-sixth most certainly do not.

Troy is teh smex.  Barring the fact that it's horribly inaccurate. No really.  My favorite part you know, besides the whole NAKED-upper-torso-of-Orlando Bloom-thing is when the "star-crossed lovers" first see each other.  It went something like this:

Paris : *oogles shamelessly and misses his mouth with his rudimentary eating utensil *
Helen :  *is oogled and kinda likes it moogles back*
Hector :  *sees where this is going and gives himself a facepalm*
Menelaus : *gropes a dancing girl*
Paris : *makes off with Helen*
Helen : *does makes another mistake to add to the THOUSANDS she's already done made*

So pretty.  And also, Odysseus wanted us to remember the Greeks for their valor and heroic deeds. 

And I did. 

Sort of.   

I saw him and the first thing I said was: 

"OMGSQUEEBOROMIR!"  

I don't think that's precisely what he meant but that's ok.  Because Boromir is alive.

Also, Achilles was HAWT.  And that thing with Briseis. 

*tear*

Which means I'm losing touch with reality.  You know, again. 

I'll just go back to being anti-social now.