"My colors are blush and bashful"

So I know we just had a mommie gem, but this one is much better than the last one. Also I don't have time to write you anything good today. I'm have to face the fact that I'm going to flunk out of school unless I can get my act together and do a great job on the three assignments that are due this week.

Plus, Streets is coming to visit me on Friday and we're going to London (yay, London!) to see Ewan McGregor in Guys and Dolls! This is because life is good right now, even if it is fixing to kick me in the pants. And by pants, I mean trousers. Not underwear. Sickos.

So here's a very funny email I received once from my mom when I told her I'd been asked out on a date. Clearly, I wasn't telling her this often enough, because once I did she pulled out the big guns.

Ahem:

Now, don't laugh, it's just an idea, but I read somewhere yesterday that pink is a sexy color because it's very feminine and it makes you look vulnerable, which in turn makes men feel protective. What this has to do with sex I have no idea, but it might be worth a try. NOT that you want to have sex, but that they might notice you and get some intense personal longing to love and protect you. Okay, fine, you can stop laughing now. I'm only thinking of you. But if you have something pink, you might try it, consider it an experiment in human something-or-other.

And then I laughed my head off and told her that I would be putting that up on the Internet someday. So if any of the ladies out there have stories of the ways in which the color pink got them some action, I'm sure we would all love to hear it. Gentlemen, you are likewise invited to share stories of the times when the color pink made you develop an intense personal longing to love and protect its wearer.

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Here comes the sun, doo-doo doo dooooo

First, a bit of housekeeping: the email subscribe thing. Turns out it's rubbish. It works, but it sends you the posts about 24 hours after they're published. And my vanity won't let me even conceive of anyone waiting that long to see what pearls of wisdom have dropped from my pen. So I know people are able to get it through Bloglines and RSSFWD. Does anyone else have a service they really like? Anyway, you should for sure be able to go through those to have your favorite blogs emailed to you (as long as your favorite blogs are hip and have an RSS feed).

And now enough of that. I must speak to you of the sun.

Yesterday I had to get up at the crack of dawn to do my laundry, on account of people around here think dryers are silly. I went out in the back garden and hung my clothes up on the line, slowly and painstakingly. (I still ended up with a pair of jeans in the dirt when I got home, by the way. Stupid clothespins.) But as I hung up my clothes in the manner of a pioneer or 40s housewife, I realized that it was actually kind of a beautiful morning. I wasn't being rained on, it was quiet and peaceful, and I could hear birds singing. So it was good that I got to be out there in it.

Then I went to the library and proceeded to spend the rest of the day in the library, specifically in a windowless computer lab. At around 3pm the fire alarm went off and the grown-ups came around saying, "This is a drill, don't log off your computers, leave your personal items here and move quickly to the exit." So of course I logged off my computer and grabbed my cell phone and bag, because Hi, that's just crazy talk. We all made our way down the four flights of stairs and stepped outside the emergency exit doors.

Friends, it was absolutely glorious outside. The sky was completely blue, the sun was shining, and the air felt close to 70 degrees. I stood there with the beautiful warm sunshine on my face and closed my eyes and was blissfully happy.

If at that moment some Fantastically Handsome and Sensitive Man (with whom I already had a relationship of mutual respect) were to walk up to me in the manner of George Emerson in A Room with a View and tell me that I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and that he wanted nothing more than to wash my dishes while we discussed my opinions, and could he possibly kiss my neck, I know exactly what my answer would have been:

"Dude. You're blocking my light."

As soon as the drill was over I grabbed my stuff and left, because there was no way I was going to waste the rest of such a day in the computer lab. I walked into town instead, and didn't even need a jacket. Because fate was with me that day I found a new long black skirt that feels all suedey and was only 8 quid. And there was a beautiful sunset during my walk home.

Now for the deep part: If I'd been back home in Utah where it's sunny all the time, we could have had a day like that and I might not have even noticed.

Deep thoughts, friends. Deep thoughts.

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It starts

I have just turned in my first piece of coursework, and it's probably absolute rubbish.

(Note: I'm having to start saying rubbish now instead of crap. My American Brothers and Sisters will wonder why that is, since cr*p is not a bad word. Tell me about it, My American Brothers and Sisters. It's slightly crude, as it does reference fecal matter, so you wouldn't really use it at church or anything, but it is nowhere near an obscenity. And even though I checked with like 6 people about the use of cr*p and they all said it wasn't a bad word, I'm slowly noticing that no one else says it. So I will have to stop as well. From now on everything is rubbish. Sigh . . . .)

Anyway, yes. First coursework. They call them all essays over here. What's fun (or, you know, panic-inducing) is the part where I think I'm in a familiar system because people are speaking the English and writing the papers, and using things like the Harvard citation style which I've never heard of but hey, Harvard, but then it turns out I'm wrong. There are all these little rules that I don't even know about. And even though I tell myself, "Look. You have a degree in English. Writing is what you do," it doesn't help.

Things had been pretty relaxed up until this point, because I think the department was trying to ease us in the the fact that we're actually going like lambs to the slaughter, but now it all begins in earnest. I will have to start being a scholar now, and part of this is that I have to stop procrastinating. Although hey, this last essay was finished like 90 minutes before the deadline, so I really think I'm headed in the right direction!

I must say also that this department is great. The lecturers are friendly and approachable and they hold meetings to see how things are going, and they didn't even stab these two students to death yesterday who took the How's It Going? meeting and turned it into their own personal Whine Fest. ("Back when that one lecturer told us all that we would be punished for any kind of plagiarism, I thought he was being mean." "At my old school I never had to cite stuff." "Can you have some windows built in the classrooms?" "I wasn't breastfed as a baby.") This went on and on! Please, foodie, could you make me a t-shirt that says "Shut up" on the front and "No, seriously. Shut. Up." on the back? Thank you ever so.

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Rejoice with me!

This morning, I had a shower.

And I'm nearly bursting into tears of joy right now, just remembering it. The shower is finished and it is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! The bathroom walls are Tiffany & Co blue, and the shower tile is white and gorgeous and I got to take a shower this morning in it.

The water was hot and the pressure was perfect and my hair lathered up just right and I never once had to use a jug. It was the first shower I've had in a month, and it was glorious. I can only remember having one shower in my life that was better than this one. It was after a long hot dirty camping trip, and when I stepped into the water I may have involuntarily made sounds, it felt so nice. Also it was at someone else's house, and they could probably hear me at the time (thanks again, Kar!). But enough of that.

My new shower: perfect and beautiful. From now on, baths will only be a part of my life when I'm in the mood for lots of bubbles, scented candles, soft music, and a good hour-long soak/nap.

Thank you for being a part of this special time.

Now I have to get back to writing a paper, which appropriately enough is about blogging. I wish I could count this as research or something . . . Oh! Maybe you guys can help! If your public library or university library weblog had an RSS feed, would you even know what that meant or what to do with it? Discuss.

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So many things to get, so little money...

Recently, there's been alot of things that I'm yearning to get. But unfortunately, my wallet isn't very cooperative.
So here are those stuff:






Both Rosenrot and Gospel of Filth release on the 31st of October which is Halloween. \m/ That's what I call a good release date. Peace through Superior Firepower, a Cradle of Filth DVD, is stated to be out in Oct/Nov, but things doesn't quite seem that way. Really sincerely hope that some news will come from the Cradle Camp soon on the DVD and the book. Live 9.0, which I have been antipicated for weeks, is coming out on the 1st of November. Woot! \m/ And that christfucking evil looking tee shirt, Immortal's Pure Holocaust, doesn't have a release date, but it has definitely added a burden on my wallet.

Argh, can I rob a bank?

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The mow-bile phone

So you know how the world is all about opposites and contrasts and all that good stuff? And how even if you have a good thing people will find a way to use it for their own evil purposes?

Examples:

Internet
Good things: Email, my blog, online shopping, Wikipedia, vast hoards of information at one's fingertips
Bad things: Child pornography, spam, hate sites, email forwards about sick children in Guatemala named Angela who will be made well if you keep forwarding this email

Television
Good things: Educational and cultural programs, great shows like House and Malcolm in the Middle, really funny commercials
Bad things: Eroding decency standards, 99.7% of all reality tv, and the kind of cable where there's actually nothing to watch on any of the 72 channels, but you think there must be, so you keep flipping through the channels like a mindless zombie for two hours until you realize that your eyes are so dried out you can no longer blink

And last but certainly not least . . .

Cell Phone/Mobile
Good things: ability to contact people in times of emergency, text messaging, free long-distance
Bad things: people knowing they can contact you at all times, the "Hey, I can drive, talk, eat, and shift at the same time" mentality, hearing the ringing of the phones during movies, plays, and church, the legal process and jail time that ensues when one beats to death people whose phones ring during movies, plays, and church

Today I found a new one to add to the cell phones list. First off, they're so darned technologically advanced with the mobiles over here. (Yes, my American brothers and sisters. I rolled my eyes in the beginning but now I must say it is true--theirs are way cooler than ours.) So let's say that a sweet eccentric elderly gentleman pulls you aside after church to brag about his grandkids. In the normal world, this would consist of him telling you that he has x number of grandchildren, possibly including information about names and ages. If he's really committed, he'll pull out a wallet and flip through a couple of pictures. Still though, you're looking at maybe 5-7 minutes tops, which a proud grandpa is certainly entitled to.

(Editor's note: There are different rules for a proud aunt showing off pictures of her darling niece. I'm pretty sure that people are willing to look at those pictures for 12-14 minutes, because she's just that precious.)

Here though, here an EEG can pull you aside, whip out a cell phone, and flip through seven hundred million pictures of his grandkids. Not only that, but you get to see all the other pictures in the phone too--the ones of the pets and the neighbors and the random children that aren't even related to the sweet EEG. Also, because these things apparently conceal a memory stick that should by rights dragged along behind the user in some kind of trailer, there are also several minutes of sound files and video footage. And you get to see it all.

Lucky, lucky you.

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Heaven help us

I went out with the missionaries today, which was a new experience. They asked me to meet them at this girl’s house, because they didn’t know if she would be alone or not and wanted everything to be above-board. Turns out, they shouldn’t have worried. Once her parents (she is 16) found out she’d met the Mormon missionaries and invited them over, they made the time to be there, and they brought the big guns with them.

Turns out their family are very faithful born-again Christians, which is great. But right away there were points of doctrine (like the “Grace v. Works" question) that we differed on in our explanations. It's possible that the girl may have had questions, but her parents weren’t having any of that, and preferred to point out the ways that what we believe (or what they thought we believe) is incorrect. One of the missionaries started to get a bit defensive and his voice started getting louder. I had to stop myself from patting him on the shoulder and saying, “Okay now, does somebody need a time-out?”

Anyway, when it was clear that this family wasn’t interested, we thanked them for their time and left.

One thing I will say for the born-again Christians here in England: They offer you a cup of tea before they tell you you’re going to hell. And that’s nice.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that if I do go to hell it won’t be because I interpret the scriptures differently than they do. It’ll be because of all those bodies in my basement—and the Ioan Gruffudd in my closet.

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To Megatherion!

Woot! Today was an eventful day!

Finally got to go out with Rei! Went to delicious Subway for lunch, then to Penninsula the Metaller's Sancturary!

After some walking around, we went to To Megatherion. Damn cool place to chill at. Impiety frontman is friendly, neat! Even offered us free beer!

There's these 2 14 years old guys there, good that metal clutches are expanding! Muahaha!

Then went to the jamming room to watch those 14 years old jam. Haha, so sorry that we took up some of their time to do our crap. But hey, I tried vocals at a real studio finally. Came out quite well! hehe! Can't wait for Infernal Saint's jamming sessions man!

Chilled out somemore, Impiety frontman shared a jewish domainance consipracy secret with us. Quite a shocking revelation for me!

Then, bought an Immortal badge and a Cradle of Filth Order of the Dragon patch. While Rei got a Dimmu Borgir patch and some other thing which I forgot.

Overall, kickass outing!

Cannot wait till after Os!

-- Hails!

\m/

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Speaking of . . .

I forgot to tell everyone the story of Registering with the NHS (alternate title: Welcome to a Year of Free Drugs, Baby!). It was pretty much the easiest thing ever. I had to get a prescription for my lovely beautiful friend Yasmin, so they sent me on back to speak with the doctor.

She took my blood pressure and asked me the fun standard questions.

Dr: "Do you smoke?"

Me: "No."

Dr: "How often do you drink?"

Me: "I don't drink."

Dr: "Are you sexually active?"

Me: "No, I have never been sexually active."

Dr: "Have you ever been pregnant?"

Me: "Um, no." (See above.)

Dr: "And what prescription is it that you want?"

Me: "Yasmin. My doctor back home put me on it for hormone-balancing and it's worked really well, so I'd like to stay on it."

Dr: "And are you using it as a contraceptive?"

Me: "No, just for the hormones." (Again, see above. Twenty-six years and counting, ma'am.)

Dr: "Well, we will have to put it down as a contraceptive because . . . because that's just the way we do things." (She looked worried here, like I might leap to my feet and yell, "I will not have the shame upon my house!")

Me: "Great, that's fine." (Just write the prescription. Write it now.)

Dr: "And are you aware of your breasts?"

Me: (blinking rapidly) "Wh--Excuse me?"

How do you even reply to that?

Possible replies
"Yes actually, I've been meaning to ask someone about that. It all started when I was about twelve . . . "
or
"Well yeah, but it's not like I organize my schedule around them or anything."
or
"Wait, why? Did you notice something? Oh my gosh what???"

Turns out she just wanted to know if I was taking steps to detect breast cancer. I lied and told her I was. (Note to all health-care providers or concerned citizens who may be tempted to make a PSA on this matter: I'm sorry and I will do better!)

So. There you have it. My sister savvymom tried to say that I had all these non-shoulder stories since coming to England, but now you know that there are only two. And we will never have to speak of this again.

Editor's Note: To my baby brother and my father and any other male who may read my blog. I beg you, by all that is good and right and doesn't want to make you put your own eyes out, not to read the comments this post has inspired. Just . . . trust me on this one. Seriously.

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Ceroc your mom!

I learned 3 things today.

1. My new voltage compliant flat-iron is rubbish.

2. Some freakshow girl at BYU-Idaho today hit my baby brother in the face with a plastic soda bottle when a conversation didn't go her way, which split his eyebrow and caused much bleeding. Note to said girl: If you ever touch my brother again, I will make sure that he charges you with assault and battery, and that you end up in handcuffs, which is where you belong. And if he won't do it, I'll grab a nice brick and we'll have some vigilante justice. I don't care who wasn't paying enough attention to you--you'd best get some coping mechanisms now.

3. Ceroc is possibly the funnest thing ever.

I went dancing tonight after Institute after hearing everyone talk about this weirdo Ceroc thing for weeks now. And now I can see why they like it so much--it's addicting. It reminds me a little bit of swing dancing, but with more hips and less violence. The footwork is simpler, and it isn't as fast-paced (unless people want it to be, I assume).

It was held at this community center, and the ages ranged from teenagers to seniors citizen. Also you could dance to pretty much any kind of music, so they weren't playing all the same stuff. It was kind of like country dancing in that all the ages were there and mingling. (Not that I've done much country dancing. You run into too many Country People at those places. :-) And now if my Country Friends could refrain from smacking me, that would be great.)

Anyway, most of the people in our group knew what they were doing, so they taught the few of us who didn't. I think having a tiny bit of swing background (but no more than your average Mormon American Girl who Went to Stake Dances has) helped out on the spins and things like that. I learned some dips, and at least I didn't fall on my rear or anything.

The only awkward moments (because you know there have to be some) came when I danced with a guy who didn't know what he was doing either--we were both first-timers. I didn't know enough to just start leading him, and I had a hard time knowing what he was trying to get me to do. I'm sure he was just as frustrated with me. Finally he said, "You spin three times." I spinned obligingly, only then he kept spinning me again and again until the lights started going all fuzzy and I got conked in the head by his arm. He was very sorry about that. At another point he reached out (I think) to grab my shoulder, but didn't . . . quite . . . make it. And since I was pretty sure The Grope wasn't one of the moves I wanted to learn, I suggested that we just call it good.

So anyway, yes, I will definitely be doing that some more. Also it's good exercise, so there's another reason why I'm not going to the gym this year! Huzzah!

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Relish the carnage once again! And Again!

Oh my fucking god!!!!

Check out these insane pictures of Thy Event of the Year! Joey and SG Maggots! WOOT! SICness has reached its peak!







CANNOT WAIT FOR LIVE 9.0!!!!!!!

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Departure NCHS...

I have came to a sudden realisation that my stay at NCHS is soon to be over. So, this post is to tribute to everything that's intriguing, worth to remember during my stay at that school. This gonna be huge long and exhaustive post.

Sec 1 - Entered this strange class of 1F. Went in timid and extremely quiet. The school looked massive to my immature eyes back then. I can vividly remember that the orientation camp was a hellish experience. The rice is like bricks and the milo is diluted. Have to bathe in 3 minutes or the senior will bang on your door and off the lights. Tryants! Then some weird fag gave the name, 'Felicity' for the class name. What the heck man! Being a typical law by law singaporean, I went with the crowd. So as time passes by, everything went boring. I remembered during a calligraphy class, Calven and Liang Yu spilled the ink all over, the it was nice! Oh yes, Muthu looked scary although of his erm shortness in height, the school's grasses were his turf. It's been reowned that no one can step on Muthu's grass. Whatever. Had a Malaysia 3D2N Geography Educational Trip, damn it was FUN! The sec 1s literally owned the hotel and blatantly played hide and seek throughout the whole level. I remembered my trusty Thomson discman (already into metal)who kept me company during those long bus rides. The most memorable thing happened is the Night Visit to the glowing bugs (damn, forgot the name for it!), those stuff looked breath-taking and maginificant. Those cave visits are the shit, boring as hell. Shopping at KLCC rocks! It's so bloody huge, I think I only managed 1/4 of it in around 4 hours. I must go back soon. Then, came my CCA which I stupidly followed my primary school ''firends'' in choosing Red Cross Youth. It turned out to be a disaster during Sec 2. And Mdm Pey's literature class captured my attention, she's so whimisical and amusing in teaching. History lessons are boring like how the Aryans lived, conducted the similarly boring teacher Mr Larry Ser who always have a ink stain on his pocket. By the end of that year, I realised I have 3 more terrible years ahead of me.

Sec 2 - I have more friends now as time has matured some relationships. Then the famous quote was born, 'Last minute work is the best.', because we the weirdo class named Felicity always won those nonsensical competitions with last minute work. One memorable incident, National Day decorations. Our class mistress, Miss Yvonne Lim Siew Mai Wei Chuan LKY Chester whatever made the class stay back for whatever shit reheasrals. I remembered the twins had to do a double cartwheel for the finale thingy. Looked quite impressive. And, Liang Yu the Dance Maniac has cherographed a class dance for the Teacher's Day thingy which I forgot. Shit, that was disgusting because I can't seem to remember the steps and I felt stupid doing it. Besides that, the class Maths teacher namely Mdm Chow has a weird prounciation, she do always have an S sound behind EVERY word and she especially likes to pull JiaHao's ear. The class will laugh, I don't get it, it's not funny at all. CCA-wise, yes, RCY turened out to be a disaster. Enough said. The details are far too vile to even mention. I began to become comfortable about my class, so I admit I started bullying. At first, Linoln seemed like a perfect target. Then his reactions arent very impressive, so I changed to Tung Ho. Tung Ho is a better case study. Dubbed as The NIA chairman, in case you are wondering, NIA stands for National Impotent Association. I know I'm very mean, and I'm sorry about it. But FUN comes first. This idea was created by me and Yiting in the Needlework room and we went insane over the idea. Sec 2 life was more normal and down to earth. And, Mr Ong's science lessons were great enjoyment to me. He is the initial inspiration for me for the love of science. Hails to him. I remembered subtlely competing with Xin Mei for science, thanks to her that I qaulified for Three Pure Science in sec 3. So here ends the era of the sec 2 and spawn into the era of being in the upper sec! Sounds fun but it doesn't. Had a class chalet at Changi. Not going into it, because that will take up one whole post. The main thing is the Transvitte Midnight sighting, that owned. Oh yes, I was into magic by then, but my tricks keep failing. But I'm a pro now. :P

Sec 3 - By then, I'm already a full fledged metal head and I proudly proclaim that to my new class. The reactions were the same, 'SILENCE.' Sigh no metallers. This class even got a weirder name, Integral. Isn't that maths? WTF! I suggested Infinity but those ego-filled guys wanted it that way. Okay, fine. Being in a 3 science class, I began the year full of confience and took great pride in my work. Found out that someone in my class who was into magic and the occult as well, that made my day! Junjie and I had a long talk on David Blaine (yes, he seemed like a God back then) and discussed on the different pentragrams and educated me on the usage of the Tarot. I'm grateful to him for that.I remembered Logarithmns in Add Maths slain me. Then blah blah blah. I found out I loved Biology so much, and I still do. Soon, it became my forte and it came to me naturally. I had great fun chatting with Mr Neo as he's just an intriguing and insulting person who I can challenge and talk crap with. And he's a metalhead! Woot! \m/ Sec 3 life to me is more like a loner's life. i seriously can't remember much. Oh yes, the sec 3 Adventure Camp! Held at Labardor Camp, it was shitty as well. Although I really enjoyed Dragon Boating and sleeping and showering, they should row more instead of splashing water. The food sucks and the bunk beds are creaky but it's so comfortable back then because you have to do all sorts of stupid stuff all day which can make you extremely tired. And, I showed the instructors some magic and it succeeded! That ends my sec 3 life in brevity and here starts the Os Level Year.

Sec 4 - The year started rather busy and the teachers began their futile campaign in stressing us out. I joined SMC. Magic life just got better and my name grew. Hehe. Began to abhor the school and my classmates as I'm so sick of them. Those whiny girls like Yee Shin, SiPing, Calesta, and a handful more. Can't stand them. At first, I enjoyed Mr Mok's lessons as he's he only one who can speak decent english and show some wit and much-needed sacrasm, although he can be wee bit too insulting. He likes magic too, but he listens to techno, that turns me off. Haha, he got ripped off by Patrick Wan! A huge portion of Sec 4 life is devoted to studies and more mugging. So nothing much can be said. Except that I got more evil and a true blue black metaller. I'm going to miss Darwin's daily 70 cent bee hoon! Awww. Sec 4 life is roughly like this, boring piece of shit.

Throughout the span of 4 years, this irritating guy called Alden had many nicknames for me. One is Sucker. The other only created recently, is wanton. Whatever!!! He's one crazy spider lover and a mental nut. And, Lydia is my ever loyal Slave since sec 2. Calesta Tan watches Anime Porn and she's very much horny and desperate. LOL.

Altough quite a number of fun things happened, I'm still looking forward to leaving school and to look for greener pastures.

The last task of me in school is to plant that class tree and eat that buffet. How meaningful!

Time really files.

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Mommie gem

I just remembered this one, and since it was my Mom's birthday and all this week, I think it's time to share. (Please remember the ground rules, though: We can talk about our own moms, but not other people's.)

Last Christmas there were more of us in Utah than in Alaska, so my parents and coolboy flew down to see us instead. They stayed at my place and we had a tree and fun was had by all.

I walked into the kitchen one morning to find my mom at the stove, cooking chicken. I looked over and saw that she was cutting the chicken in the nonstick pan with a metal knife and fork. This is my mom, mind you, who is an excellent cook and has really really nice kitchen stuff and knows about nonstick pans.

Me: "Mom . . . are you using a knife that pan?"

Mom: "Uh huh!"

Me: "Okay, see, we don't use metal on our nonstick pans."

Mom: "Oh, you're right, I'm sorry."

Then she paused for a moment in thought.

Mom: "It's good to know you have some standards."

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The Biological Ammagedon!

Today is GSE O levels Biology Practical Nov 2005 paper.

*OKAY OKAY. Cut the fucked up crap and say the main thing*

Went in, saw a huge penknife. Immediately thought of EMO kids and the EMO talk with Fariza.

Then blah blah blah. Majority of it sucked like a horny *beep*. And that's quite enough said.

I couldn't see any VISIBLE differences or similiarites between that disgusting Fig 2.1 and the cut surface of specimen W2 which is just a carrot. What a sohispicated name for a veggie?! So I merely crapped it through.

And, I noticed yet another conspiracy. Your affectionate childhood cartoon hero, also known as Bugs Bunny has a major pact with Cambridge. He obviously supplied those inferior quality carrots to us. How evilish can a rabbit get?

Dang.

Enough said about that shitty practical.

The thing worth saying is that there's no need to go back to Nan Chiau High ever again! (except for Os and the dumbass tree-planting ceremony)Hooray! No more stupidity blatantly displayed in front of my eyes. I'm freed from bondage after 4 tortorous years.

Alright, my instant noodle says 'I'm COOKED! Eat me!' Gotta go. See ya later.

In Darkness we trust. \m/

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Me and my big dumb mouth

Last night I had a lovely Sunday dinner with some of the other YSAs (or "Young Single Adults," as our Church likes to call us, which is a nicer name than "That Rabble Who Can't Get Married"). One of the guys mentioned that he'd recently started reading the Times & Seasons website, and that he was really getting into the whole blogging thing.

This is where, without thinking, I piped in with, "Hey, me too! I even have a blog of my own and it's funny!"

Whoops.

Him: "Really? I'd like to see it! What's the address?"

Me: "Ahhh . . . I don't remember. And maybe I don't actually have one, now that I think about it."

Him: "Come on, I'd be interested to see it."

Me: "Ennnnhhh . . . Nnnrrg . . . . tssssss . . . . "

Okay, see, it is one thing for people who already know me pretty well to get on here. They can filter through the hyperbole and the neuroses. And it's another thing for strangers to get on here. They don't know me at all. And it's okay for people who maybe know me a tiny bit to be referred by someone else, because then it's like I've already been given an "It's okay, she's not crazy or anything" stamp.

It's quite another thing for someone I've just barely met, who is connected to a group I'm just barely getting to know, and with whom I would like to be friends, to get on here and read about how I don't bathe and how I think my ovaries are possibly drying out and how these English kids keep dragging me to bars. (Although, now that I think of it, I probably mentioned the part about the bathing and the ovaries at Sunday dinner. Or not. I was crazy drunk at the time, so I don't remember.)

Of course, this could be a good thing. We could end up with lots of fun new British friends on here, and it could be this great International Place of Anglo/American Friendship. Or they could get on here and think I'm making fun of them, and get mad and never invite me to anything ever again, and I will die alone on the moors. Or they could get on here and then I wouldn't be able to tell you things that I normally would, like about how everyone is really huggy out here, and that [deleted for protection of idiot writer]

Anyway, if this guy wants to find me, he probably could. I just found myself in two clicks from the Times & Seasons homepage. Tonight we're all going out to dinner, so if he asks for the address again I may just have to give it to him. It's hard to say no to men who ask for things in British accents. I'll be sure to post something like "The Redcoats are Coming!" just so everyone knows. (No offense intended, of course, to our resident Redcoat, the lovely and talented Julie!)

Also I'll have to delete the part about the hedgerows.

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Fun deprived...

Recently, a strange illness fell upon me... I'm becoming like a living dead and my emotions are mostly numbened except when I listen to metal. I feel that myself and everything is slowly fading away, seeping away. All due to the excesive mugging! Fuck.

I so wanna have a time machine and catapult me to the time after my Os, but it's all just a dream. At least, can anyone make this period of time endurable and more ''enjoyable'' although it can be futile to do so.

The waiting and dreadiness in me is killing me. Anyone please, help me! Tell me a joke!

Now the things I look forward is a good meal and good music.

I missed those days when I frequent the library, Orchard road where I walked aimlessly around Far East/Taka/Hereen/blah blah. I missed the days when I hanged out with cool people like Rei and Joesph. I missed those days when I had jamming sessions with Justin and the magic/flourish gang where we just stand around at Shaws and flourish for hours. And I missed those days when I buy decks like nobody's business at Landmark, geez, I haven't been there for ages! I missed those days when I just stoned at Street magic and buying that Ice Milo and chatting with Daniel. I missed those days when we meet up on Friday evenings to meet Ning for The Little Magic Shop's orders, and Clement and Mac will just crap like crazy. I missed SMC closed meetings at Coconut Grove although SMC is like shit now.

Some people said, 'Just endure. Just one more month.' They have got no idea! Easy said, hard to endure!

The 3 words ringing in my devoid heart now are 'Desolate. Emptiness. Sorrow.'

Incincerated in this foul hole, I must, at least for the next 1 month.

18th of November, I can't wait for that day to descend.

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Hung. over.

Well, perhaps not in the literal sense of the word, but I will tell you what happened and you'll see what I mean.

Remember that Birmingham dance? My friend Ph.D. texted me last night to say she wasn't going to be able to go anymore, so I phoned another person who'd offered a lift to ask if he was still going. Turns out, he wasn't going anymore either. Just as I was looking at the possibility of another Friday night alone (pro: I could put on my pjs and just eat peanut butter all night long, con: I would be spending yet another Friday night alone) he said that he was going to a birthday gathering for someone I knew, and very kindly invited me to come along. So, faced with the party or peanut butter, I went with the party.

We met up and I asked him where we were going. Keep in mind that this guy is from Leeds and talks fast, and my ear for accents is sometimes pathetic. So I only catch like every other word.

Me: So where are we going?

Leeds: Booblidee booblideee bloo meet oop an' then garumdy darumdy Hinckley boogleface Seventies bah.

Me: Sorry, did you say Seventies bar?

Leeds: Yoop.

Me: Is that like, the name of something or does that mean a bar with a Seventies theme?

Leeds: Bahwitaseventiestheme.

Me: Okay . . . .

We meet up with the others and head to Hinckley, where this mystical Seventies bah is. There are 8 of us total, all Mormon kids.

We get there and walk into your basic, dark, smoke-filled bar. And we're pretty much the only people there. A few of us order soft drinks (I don't because I don't actually pay money for warm 4-oz glasses of Coke, thanks) and we proceed to stand around. I am increasingly confused, by this point, but as the outsider I keep it to myself. My questions are these:

1. Um, what the crap are we doing here???
2. Is this really how the Birthday Girl wants to spend her night--standing around not drinking in an empty bar that reeks of cigarette smoke and doesn't have soap in the women's toilets?
3. And if all she wanted was to go to a bar for her birthday, why did we have to drive all the way over to this one, which has cops patrolling the front of it? There are plenty of bars where we live.
4. Does anybody think this is actually fun? What is fun about this!?!

But then it got better. More people started showing up, and it turns out that there was a second, larger room with a dance floor. That's where the 70s music was playing. So we headed back there and started dancing. And that was fun. They did some 70s line dances (to songs like "Disco Inferno" and "Hot Stuff") and then handed out goodie bags to those who joined it. Mine had a tiara that lit up, so I wore that. It was funny, too, to have some songs come on that I'd never heard, but that everyone else knew by heart.

When I wasn't Lost in the Dance, I had a very interesting time just observing things, like The Drunk People. I mean yes, everyone was drinking, but most people were just there with their friends & dancing when they felt like it and doing whatever. There were some notable exceptions, however.

White t-shirt guy: I really truly do not know if he was simply drunk, or if he had some sort of disability, or if we were looking at a combination of the two. (This was true of several of the people I saw last night, so maybe it was just a drunk-and-just-not-bright thing.) He would lurp around without ever speaking and try to dance up against different women, who would then politely shrug him off. But there was this one girl that he wanted to dance with very, very badly. Or at least, he wanted to dance with her boobs very, very badly. She rebuffed him several times, and one of her tall girlfriends even shoved him once, but 10 seconds later he would be back, not even bothering to look at her face, just trying to dance with her boobs. Granted, they were very much on display, but still. Try to show some subtlety.

Babyface: He fancied one of the girls in our group at first, but she really wasn't going for any of that. So he would move from group to group, dancing away. I eventually saw him dirty dancing with a lady who looked like she could be his grandma. Then with another one. And another one. So it seems he found his niche market.

The Pole-Dancer: This lady appeared to be in her 40s, but she showed up in one of those tiny little mini skirts and went up to the stage area, which is I guess where you go if you want attention. Anyway, I started laughing when I saw her dancing up there, because it was like watching a high-school principal suddenly start a dance routine from Chicago like she's Velma Kelly or something.

One of the guys in our group asked if I was worried about being picked up by an English bloke.

Me: Not too worried. I mean, don't I just say, "Piss off"?

Guy: (startled pause) Yeah, that'd do it.

Me: Well, is there a better thing to say?

Guy: Nah, that's good.

Me: Okay. And if that doesn't work, I'll just tell them you're my boyfriend, so be sure to look threatening if I point at you.

Guy: Are you trying to flirt with me, then?

Me: Shoot, you saw right through that!

No one ever did try to hit on me, even though I had my line ready and everything. I guess already being in a group with guys works as a deterrent, as does sneering.

We got there at 9 and didn't leave until nearly 2. When we finally did walk out into the blessed, blessed cool air, I realized that I couldn't hear anything. My ears felt like they'd been stuffed with cotton. I also had two dents in my skull from the tiara, and my voice was hoarse. We went back to someone's apartment and ate pizza and chips (the kind from the chips shop, which were so much better than I remember them being) and choc ices til 3:30, which is when everyone started to crash. Then I got to go home and got into bed around 4am.

As I got undressed while half asleep, I realized that everything reeked of cigarette smoke, including my hair and my bra. Nasty. At 9am I woke up to the sound of three men from the ward finishing the shower installation in the bathroom.

Point is, I went clubbing, I had a great time, and I had no idea that these Brit Mormons partied so hard. If they do this every weekend it just might kill me off. And now I'm going to go eat Chinese food and watch the new Pride & Prejudice with my landlord, because I think that's maybe all I'm capable of right now.

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High once again..

Holy fuck!

I'm listening to Live 9.0 streams via Roadrunners now. Fucking brings me back to Aug 16th Fort Canning! Relishing the SIC chaos! \m/

This might be a picture taken from Singapore's gig!
Click here!

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ps. Happy Birthday, Mom!

Happy Birthday to my sweet Mom, who will quite possibly always look about 15 years younger than she actually is. Have I mentioned that we're all really really hoping to inherit that from her, along with her china?

I love you, Mom!



* Also, this picture was not taken by me. It was taken by Savvydad, so I just want everyone to know that right now.

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It is time

I must speak to you about the men.

And no, this is not the part where I start making the exciting announcements that some people have been making lately. Have I mentioned that I'm very happy for both of these amazing girls? Because I am, even if those announcement do tend to somehow serve as yet another reminder that I will die alone, and that the closest I've been to any action in, like, years, was that time on Sunday when the Scrunchie Lady kept pawing at my lap. Oh! And the closest I've been to dating happened today when I was walking down the sidewalk and some jock yelled, "Oi, b*tch!" out his car window. I bear him no ill will, though. He'll get what's coming to him, preferably in the form of a bull moose through his windshield.

So. The men. Lots and lots and lots of them are jaw-droppingly handsome, with gorgeous spiky hair and these really great ribbed sweaters and accents that make my knees go weak. I have to not listen to what they're saying, though, otherwise that ruins the spell, since it's almost always about how drunk they just were, how drunk they now are, or how drunk they plan to be in the very near future. Charming. And it's so sad, too, because they're all so cute, but it's not like I'm going to drink with them or smoke with them or have sex with them or wear those goshawful mini skirts with the black leggings like the little fresher girls will (no lie, people. Black. Leggings.). So it's like this lost cause from the beginning, because I'm not going to wear the leggings. I'm just not.

I've been keeping an eye out for cute guys at church, because, let's face it, that's pretty much the pool from which I can reasonably fish, if fishing is to be done. There are some cute ones. They're all about 5 years younger than me, but they are cute. And hey, they don't need to know how old I am.

There's also a guy in my program who kind of baffles me. He's from Pocatello Idaho and went to Utah State, so he knows about the Mormons, even if he isn't one. He seems very confused as to why a "good little Mormon girl" would want to come live in England for a year. (Hello, who wouldn't want to live in England for a year?) I think he wonders if my leaving Utah is a form of rebellion, and that I secretly plan to go hog-wild, much like Amish youths who are sent out for a taste of Babylon. Yesterday he offered to take me pub crawling, and I don't know if he was serious or not. So yeah, not sure what to make of that. He lives with his girlfriend, though, so I doubt he has any personal reasons for wanting to get me sloppy drunk.

Yesterday, just after the pub crawl invite, we had this conversation.

Idaho: So what are Mormon guys like?

Me, before thinking: Pathetic.

Only then I had to backtrack and explain that not all Mormon men are pathetic souls who are more interested in sitting at home and playing computer games rather than dating me. It just feels that way sometimes. About the guys my age. Sometimes. Not that I'm a social butterfly myself, but there's only so much a girl can do. Yeah.

Finally I talked myself into a corner.

Me: But hey, you went to Utah State. I'm sure you knew tons of Mormon guys.

Idaho: Well, I didn't date any of them.

Me: Ah, true point. I wouldn't recommend it.

So tomorrow night there's a Young Single Adult dance over in Birmingham that supposedly gets a good turnout. We'll see how that goes, or if I should just start chasing down the frat boys now.

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I'm eating a Krispy Kreme donut Right This Second

That's right. It's a day old, but it's real and it's mine, and life is full of daisies and clover and sugar glazes and saturated fats. They've opened a store in Birmingham, I guess, and the missionaries brought some to my friend Ph.D.'s family, and she wrapped up two of them to give to me. They will be getting a thank-you card for that one, since I am now One Who Gives Thank-You Cards, daltongirl.

It's been a great day foodwise, actually. I made my very first Indian cuisine. Thanks to the good people at Tesco who make jars of tikka masala, it turned out to be pretty easy:

1. Buy chicken for the first time in months. Cook it. Do not cause a grease fire.
2. Pour jar of tikka masala over chicken. Heat. Do not cause a grease fire. Wipe splatters off wall.
3. Cook rice. This will be hard without rice cooker, but you will manage.
4. Put masala stuff on rice, not on self.
5. Eat while watching BBC News.
6. Freeze remaining twelve servings of food.

It worked out pretty well, I think.

And do you all remember my sweet coolmom? She sent me this after I mentioned all the walking I've been doing.

I'm glad things are going well, although all this talk of hoofin' it conjures up images of a homeless person. I envision this poor little creature walking in the rain, with no head covering, carrying a bunch of plastic bags, returning to the lonely hovel to light a small stump of candle and eat some crumbs of bread and cheese before pulling a thin blanket over your tired little frame and sleeping fitfully through the night. But that's just the mother in me.

My favorite is the bit with the candle. It's straight out of Charles Dickens. But she's absolutely right. That is how I'm living, and so probably everyone should send me money. Or gift certificates. I'm not picky. I just want to be warm . . .

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I need a stiff drink

I probably won't get one, though.

Today had two highlights. One was my Information Search & Retrieval or something like that class. The teacher is Scottish, so I like to listen to her talk. Only it turns out that for about 45 seconds I was dead asleep in my chair with my chin on my chest. So embarassing, but it was in the afternoon and the room was hot, okay?

Anyway, after the lecture we had our practical, which was called "Meet the Reference Section." Did you know that it's possible to find answers to things without using Google? Crazy. Anyway, she gave us this list of questions and a hint of the books we might find the answers in, and sent us to it. For your reading pleasure, here they are:

1. Who is 8th in line of succession to the British throne?
2. What is a eutrophic lake?
3. How many stories high is the Empire State Building?
4. With which design movement is Charles Rennie Macintosh associated?
5. What are the particular characteristics of the Irish bagpipe?
6. What is the origin of the phrase 'to get the sack'?
7. What is the address of the National Library of the Czech Republic?
8. What is pegmatite? Is it a laundry aid, a new type of glue, or a kind of rock?
9. When did the volcano Popocatepetl last erupt?
10. What is a 'little gentleman in black velvet' and how did one kill a king?

And because I worked hard to get these stinking answers, you're going to get them too:

1. Lady Louise Windsor, daughter of Prince Edward. Only I'm confused as to why she isn't HRH Princess Louise, like Prince Andrew's daughters are. What's that about?
2. It's a lake w/a high concentration of dissolved nutrients or minerals, which leads to excessive algae, which leads to lack of oxygen, which leads to the fish dying. Sad.
3. 102 stories. So don't lean over the edge, kids.
4. Art Nouveau, and the book I found this in (The Design Encyclopedia) is awesome.
5. The only difference between the Irish bagpipe and the Scottish bagpipe is that the Irish one has a single tenor drone instead of a pair. There--now that won't be driving you crazy next time you hear an Irish bagpipe.
6. This is from 17th-century France, when the boss would hand a fired workman the sack that he normally kept his tools in, and that was his signal to hit the road and use his sack somewhere else.
7. The address is Klementinum 190, 110-01, Praha 1. Remember that.
8. It's a rock. Hard to care much about rocks.
9. 2004.
10. A mole. King William III's horse tripped on a molehill & the king eventually died from the injuries. So all the people who hated the king drank toasts to the "little gentleman in black velvet." You must keep in mind, though, that these people were likely drunk by this point.

So, there you have it! I now know where to find the answer to any question! Maybe you should as me a question every now and then to keep my skills sharp or something, with the rule that I can't use the Internet.

Highlight #2 was my first night of Concert Band (out of) Practice. I spent the first 30 minutes thinking, "Oh my sweet mother of pearl. What was I even thinking? I can't do this! They're all gonna laugh at me!" Turns out it's been 8 years since I've sight-read anything, and I can totally tell. Plus it was all this really fast complicated music and the lighting in the room wasn't that great so it was hard to even see some of the runs, much less play them. Plus there were about 10 million flutes there, so we were all out of tune and didn't know what the heck we were doing, except for the ones who did, who kept shooting fearful glances back at the rest of us & then at each other.

But then it slowly started getting better, and I started enjoying myself and not worrying so much. Turns out the director does all the hard stuff in the beginning, because the regional competition is next month in Northampton, and then we get to play fun stuff like Christmas songs and show tunes and things for the rest of the year.

So I think I'll go back next week, heaven help me. And I'll be getting copies of the music so I can practice the crap out of it without anyone else hearing the mistakes and the blue language and the sounds of my flute being thrown out the window. Maybe I'll even go to the student union next week after practice and get a nice Sprite or something while everyone else drinks, since that seems to be a very important part of the Concert Band Experience, or something. Also it turns out I'm supposed to give them 28 quid, which I guess I will also do so that I can be a Band Geek again.

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Expand the clutches of Metal!

Muahaha! Recently I have subtlely propagated Metal Music and HIM to one of my friends in class. No doubt, he succumbed into the clutches of metal and is now helping me to propagate HIM to others. But my fear is that HIM will become a fad in my class and then thus becomes under-valued. I really hope it won't happen, NO. And why are they so slow? After so long, then they are enlightened that Good Charlotte is pathtetic and a load of posers, also known as Gay Crying. SLOW! But Metal is still ever-powerful and mesmerizing by any means of measurements. \m/ Long live Metal!

Anyhow, it's been eons since I talked anything about flourishes, my sub-obession for the past 2 years. Well, I'm coming up with this concept of a full length continous performance. The name is From Genesis to Nemesis. I'll obviously start from the Genesis Cut, blah blah blah, with each cut getting more and more insane, then finally my yet-to-be-created Nemesis Cut that will be the Bomb, thus with that my stage flourisher alias name will be Nemesis. I'm smoothening out my Purity cut (in honour to Slipknot), Equrilibrium Cut (which evolve from the Tornado Cut), Equrilibrium Production (also from Tornado), other system cuts and blah blah.

Alright, Family Guy is on! Gotta go!

\m/!

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This made my day

Someone found my blog by doing the following Google search:

"handcart" mormon frozen children utah stupid

Please fess up if it was you, because you nearly made me fall off my chair laughing.

On a sadder note, I realized today that I spend a lot of time blogging. Like, hours per day. And while that was fine when I had a job and pretty much sat in a chair eight hours a day, it probably isn't going to fly now that classes (and the related readings/writings/killing of self) have started.

So I've decided to budget myself. I'm only allowed to spend 1 hour per day blogging & emailing. When I think about it, after my breathing resumes, that's quite a bit of time, really. If I spent that much every day towards scripture study and meditation, just think about what a good person I could be! Instead, I choose to dedicate that time to snark.

The reason I'm alerting everyone is because I probably won't be able to visit your blogs or make comments as often as I'm used to doing. This will probably hurt me more than it hurts you, but there you have it. So please forgive me if I join conversations way after the fact or if I'm clueless in general.

I'd better go, though. I have to get up early to sneak in a bath before the tiling project resumes!

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The song of the righteous is a prayer unto Him

But maybe this doesn’t count if the song sounds like crap. The noise that came from tonight’s choir practice could not be considered a prayer, I don’t think. If anything, it was like a prank call or some other obnoxious thing, which will probably be met with swift retribution in the form of a plague or drought or similar.

I should tell you I’ve been spoiled this past year by having the best ward (Latter-day Saint congregation, for anyone not familiar w/the lingo) choir director ever. She is amazing and talented and pushed us and expected all kinds of greatness. It was wonderful—we just trusted that she knew exactly what she was doing, and that if we did what she said we would sound amazing. I got all into the Joy of the Voice.

Yeah. The joy, she is gone.

First off, tonight’s practice lasted two hours, which is just wrong. So I had two hours to realize that I was back in civilian land, with all the familiar cast members (the quavery old soprano ladies, the Bossy Butts, the tone-deafs, the choir director who doesn’t know what she’s doing because she’s never actually directed a choir before and just got stuck with it, etc.). I, by the way, fall into the “Alto with no range who can’t always find her notes but knows enough about music to know when things suck, even if she doesn't have solutions” role.

It didn’t help that one of the songs we’re doing is “Consider the Lilies.” I kind of hate that song. I only like it when the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings it, and even then it’s a stretch. This is probably because my first exposure to it was at the hands of a Quavery Old Lady ward choir who mangled it and caused an irreversible impression on my mind.

I forget what the second piece was that we practiced, but there weren’t enough copies for everyone, so we had to share. But the lady next to me had this desperate desperate need to look at every single page, even when we weren’t singing. So she kept reaching over onto my lap and pawing through pages, or taking parts of it out of my hand. Now, I don’t care if she is a sweet frumpy English lady. After about the 6th instance, I thought, “Lady, I don’t care if this is the chapel. If you get in my space again you’re getting an elbow to the throat. Also I will gag you with your own scrunchie.” Luckily we finished the song and moved on to the other one before she did it again. And before you ask, no, I could not have just handed her the pages and let her be in charge of them.

When you give in like that, then the terrorists will have already won.

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Woot!

Wow! Watch this video! Parkour at its best.

Click here!

Happy watching!

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Well, at least they warn you

On the day of my department orientation, one of the lecturers told us that we would pretty much be taken out back and shot if our cell phones ever, ever ring in class or anywhere else in the department. At the very least, we will be verbally attacked and publicly humiliated in front of all of our peers.

Now, this is a system I can agree with. After the horrific experience during Camelot at the Shakespearean Festival this summer, I'm through with mercy. And, of course, some girl's cell phone went off right after the lecturer finished saying that, but the lecturer cut her a break since it was orientation. I was disappointed, though. I had my torch out and everything.

My point is that so far the Brits seem very good about warning people regarding the painful and bloody consequences of their choices. I just didn't realize that this extended so far as to apply to expiration dates on food. Turns out, it does.

Last week I bought 1.38 Liters of milk. And no, I have no idea why it's that size, so don't ask. I used it every morning on my cereal (including yesterday) and things were going great. The "use by" date on the label was October 7th. This morning, it being October 8th, I thought, "Hey, I'd better finish up that milk today, since it's going to go bad soon." I went downstairs, got myself a bowl of Sultana Bran Flakes, and proceeded to pour what could only be called yogurt all over them. Seems they're not kidding when they slap those labels on there. You have until the stroke of midnight, and then BAM! My landlady did say that it's unusual for my milk to have gone bad quickly, and that usually you have a bit more leeway.

Only I'm not going to wait around for THAT to happen again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go put my bread in the freezer.

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It's like I've been transported through time

If y'all would care to look at the photo album to the right entitled "My Digs," you will see the charming view of my backyard. You will also see that my laundry is hanging from the line out there. That's right. There is no dryer. There is just this tiny washer that takes 1 hour to wash clothes, and then you hang them up, much as the pioneers did. I understand that it saves on lots and lots of energy and money this way, though, and I'm extremely lucky not to have to try to do this in a laundromat or dorm room. So please understand that the following is not a complaint, but a cultural observation.

This morning found me crouched in front of the washer with my eyes squinted and my mouth agape. It's one of those front-loading kinds so I could see exactly what it was doing. This machine was not washing my clothes so much as it was tossing them, gingerly, the way you or I might toss a Cobb salad if we thought it was going to explode at any second. The little hamster wheel turned for exactly 3 seconds, then stopped for 10, as if afraid that if it went any further the laundry might think it was trying to get fresh. I watched this process in disbelief for about 7 cycles, then figured I'd better just go get dressed or I'd be late for school. I guess the clothes got clean somehow, though, even though I wasn't around to see it.

Turns out I wasn't around to hang them up, either, because when I got back from class they were already up on the line. So it wasn't so much that I was being a pioneer, on account of I didn't even hang the stuff up myself. Only you know what? It was kind of good that someone else did it first, because otherwise I would have had no earthly clue how to do it. And all the English people would have looked over from their yards and laughed. And then I would have yelled something nasty about how in America we have machines to do this for us, so who's laughing now???

Then I would've been asked to leave.

As promised, though, here are the stories I said I would tell:

1. I went into this shop called Primark and found a great brown dress that didn't have any tags on it, so it rang up for 4 pounds. It's a stretchy cotton wrap dress with 3/4-length sleeves and these cool Grecian-looking rope things around the waist, and it comes down to just below the knee. And as long as an errant wind never blows it completely open while I'm walking to Church on Sunday, I should be good to go. Did I mention it was only 4 quid?

2. The new exercise policy--Turns out I lied and you'll have to wait for this one.

3. Becoming a Feminist Goddess of Doooom--First class was today, and it turns out that it's actually an undergraduate class and that there's only one other postgrad in there. We get our own assignments and everything, but still. That kind of kills some of the joy. I knew something was off, though, when I started seeing hot-pink lace thongs everywhere. The other way you know it's an undergrad class is that no one will speak up, even though it's about really really cool stuff like gender socialization and ways that parents & others consciously (and unconsciously) reinforce the ways they think boys and girls are supposed to behave.

Most of my grade will be from a 2,000 word essay I have to write. I get to pick from these topics (these are my own shorter summaries of the topics, btw):

1. Discuss the arguments for & against women working in libraries in the late 19th & early 20th centuries. How did the library profession develop into the female-dominated one that it is today?
2. What happens in IT and computing industries to contribute to its being a male-dominated industry & one that has a reputation for being "chilly" for women?
3. If pornography is about domination and violence against women, shouldn't it be banned?
4. Explore and analyze the viewpoint that advertisements present limited and often demeaning stereotypes of men and women.
5. How and to what extent do magazines send out messages about bodily appearance and acceptable social roles/behavior for men and women?
6. Discuss the establishment of women's presses in the 1970s, and how they have promoted women writers.

So much fun! I don't know which one to pick yet, but so far 3-5 look the most interesting to me. The other postgrad is looking at #3, and I'm interested to see what she comes up with. Even though I hate pornography, I don't know how you would go about trying to ban it. I mean, where would you start? And what would be included--would pictures and films made at home count? What about books? Who decides which books are pornographic? Would any book containing sex count? What about art? Where do you draw the line?

And even if the stores stopped selling magazines like Playboy, you would still have the Internet to deal with. How could you possibly traffic the Internet for all porn, when law enforcement officers can't keep up with child pornography as it is? Plus, like drugs, enough people are addicted to it that the demand for pornography won't suddenly go away once it's illegal. People will just find illegal ways of producing and distributing it. So sad, but I think these are true points.

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Relish the carnage once again!

Woot! The final art work for Slipknot's first Live CD, 9.0 is done, fresh from the oven! You lucky readers are going to have a sneak peek here whilst I upload it at the bottom of this post. Gosh, the mention of this momentarily surged my adrenaline level in my bloodstream and suddenly I feel as though my soul is sucked back to August 16th at Fort Canning. Damn, it still feels so surreal as I look at my ticket stub now. Since that terrifying experience, my life has been effectively separated into 2 segments, Before Slipknot gig and after that. *breathe* Ok, I'm back to normal now. Anyhow, I was asked to pose for a couple of pictures during the gig, so I MIGHT be appearing in the booklet whatever. Hehe!

As I have promised. This post will be talking about Dark Light.

Vampire Heart - A power and soul-consuming track that revolves around love being immortalised as the title implies, Vampire. So can Love be immortal? Can blood or the passion of love be alive once again in a Vampire Heart? Got to listen to it to find out for yourself! I rate this 10/10. Briliant song writing and starter for the album.

Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly - This one is basically showing the real geunine beauty of love. Can love be beautiful even without the attractions of the beauty of the wings of the butterfly? Worth pondering, eh? I rate this 10/10 too!

Under The Rose - This is a fast and very catchy song with a very meaningful chorus. Talks about sacrifices done for the sake of Love or the Rose in the song. Can you even burn in water or drown in flames just for your love? So Love is impossible to resist in any sort. I simply adored the lyrics of this song. I rate this song 10 too!

Killing Loneliness - The chorus goes like this, 'With the vemonous kiss you gave me, I'm killing loneliness.' Even with a poisoned kiss, you would not mind it as that is sufficient to kill your desperation for love. Protraying the desperation for love despite being dead. Nice! 10 too!

Dark Light - The introduction to this song is so soulful you can almost feel as though your heart has melted. The chorus and voice of Ville only makes it worse. Talking about the decadence of love, that beautiful creatures like angels can defile. Love as dark light, shining into your soul and blinding all fears that keep questioning about love. Well, hard to explain, get your copy soon! 10 for this song too!

Behind the Crimson Door - Catchy riffs to start this power track. Speaking of love 'summer' being killed by the 'fall' or some cold feelings. You don't mind it as well, as the winter 'rejection' said, 'Your love will be the death of me.' So this basically a song about the total rejection of love as summer and winter are direct contrasting subjects. Awww. nice idea is it? And hiding the door also means that your shyness or shame of love. Phew what a load of insane knowledge there! 10 for this too!

The Face of God - This one is rather catchy as well. Ok, correct that. Very catchy, This one is talking about the playing God for love. You, wanting to understand your loved one so badly, you become somewhat ashamed of it. And you are really desperate as you want to invade the opposite's dreams and you wanted to feel what they are feeling. You won't care if they are comfortable with it that you wouldn't mind offending God. Really good track here. 10 too! Geez everything is 10!

Drunk on Shadows - This one isn't as good I might say. Haven't found out the philosophy of it yet, that i need to listen to it more. Basically talking about the decandence of love and the blasphemous side of it, and love is alcoholic and could make one drunk on it. Well, this is probably an addition to the enitre album. This one i give a 9.

Play Dead - This another hard pounding soul ballad is talking about playing dead in the name of love. You avoid love by ignoring it totally of being dead. So love can be so deadly and harmful sometimes. You wanted to play dead until the opposite party accepts your love before all is too late. 10!

In the Nightside of Eden - As we all know, Eden is the garden of Adam and Eve. So love spawned from there. What about the nightside of it, the darkened and blasphemous side of it? Sneaky love of course! The lyrics goes, we fall in love with the serpent's song. Haha, Lilith of course! Serpent = devil = devil's female counterpart = Lilith = first wife of Adam. So this is indeed sneaky love! The lyrics also goes, 'Forever we are. Forever we've been. Forever we'll be crucified to a dream.' Even though being separated by the adulterer Eve, the love can live on for eternity! Woot, what a song! Bloody briliant! 10! Ville did not disappoint me at all. He's still as briliant and hot despite his fugly hair.

Dark Light, come shine upon me, luminating my soul!

Woot, this is really a LONG post. i hope you have enjoyed reading it and gaining some insights of the almighty HIM and its heartagram.

Last but not least, I'll upload the CD artwork of Slipknot's upcoming kick ass live album, 9.0. Here it is: http://www.pulseofthemaggots.com/images/90live.jpg.

Relish the Carnage! \m/

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I'm gonna party like I like to party

And it's called I've got a loaf of bread, a slab of brie straight from la France, a Granny Smith apple, and the last Cadbury Whole Nut chocolate bar. Hit it.

I needed this party, because I trudged about 3.5 miles today, carrying all kinds of bags in the gloomy mizzling weather. And for those of you who ran 3.5 or more miles today uphill in the snow or whatever and are wont to congratulate yourselves, just shut up. I don't have to hear it from you.

Good thing that happened today: I got to shush someone. In the library. Much like a librarian would do.

It was awesome.

The library has 4 floors. The top floor is my department, the 3rd floor is kind of the free-for-all floor w/the periodicals and the computers and copiers, and it's where people can talk and use cell phones and mill about and stuff. The 1st and 2nd floor are designated as being quiet floors. In fact, Floor 2 is quiet and Floor 1 is silent, which is a funny idea. Do people have to hold up signs when they want to ask for stuff?

Anyway, I was doing some of my first bits of research on Floor 2 (the quiet floor), when I realized that I'd been hearing the same girl's voice for quite a while, and that hers was the only one I was hearing. My first thought was, "Oh, no she is not." I peered over my little carrel and saw that she was jabbering away on a cell phone. And it wasn't one of those, "Sorry, can't talk, in the library, call you back" conversations. It was some long drawn-out affair about how some friend of theirs isn't being very nice right now, punctuated by nods and "Yeah, oi knoyw" and "Riiigh', that's no' on." I gave her 8 seconds, then went on over, smiling very nicely, and asked her to please keep it down.

Lucky for me, she smiled shamefacedly and apologized, then ended the call quickly. It could have gone much worse for me if she'd turned out to be some huge beefy rugby player (we have them) who took exception to my remarks. I doubt the skinny little engineering boys in the surrounding carrels would've been much help to me then. And if we were on the silent floor I probably wouldn't even be allowed to scream for help.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's exciting stories:

1. The dead sexy dress that cost me 4 pounds!
2. Why I'm not going to bother exercising this year!
3. Report on tomorrow's Gender and Information Studies class, where I will learn to be a full-fledged Feminist Goddess of Doom! Others may join me. We will have a full health plan.

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Wow, I feel so loved!

Two people (Streets & my Dad) have emailed to see if I've been run over by a lorry, on account of I haven't posted in two whole days. Let me just say that even though I haven't been posting, I've been thinking about posting pretty much nonstop. This becomes a problem during times when I'm supposed to be thinking about other things, like Information Retrieval Services.

For instance, I debated about telling you this story, and it looks like I'm going to.

Ahem.

Yesterday I got up from a very long lecture and started walking to my next class. As I walked, I noticed that my jeans felt odd, like they weren't fitting right or were bunched up in some weird way. I kept walking, figuring that I was just imagining things. But then I got cold, so I tugged at my scarf to re-tie it around my neck, and one of the ends didn't move. So I tugged harder, and pulled about a foot of pink scarf out from between the legs of my jeans. When I'd been sitting in the lecture I must have sat on the end and it just stayed there, so I was walking down the sidewalk like that. I don't even want to think about what that would have looked like, so I won't.

A good thing that has happened is that I'm liking my classes so far! I was kind of terrified that I would get there and go, "Wow. This is the most boring thing I've ever heard. When can I leave?" So I'm relieved about that. What we're learning about so far is how to look for information (other than just Googling it) and the ways to organize stuff so people can find what they're looking for. And hey, I'm all about being able to find what I'm looking for.

My sad experience of today happened when I had to spend a lot of money. This usually causes me pain, but today it was especially bad. It took me about 30 seconds to blow out the electrical outlet with my flat-iron, and then after the outlet was fixed it took me 6 seconds with my rechargable batteries to blow out the outlet and the voltage adapter. And all this was after I'd prepared so well!! So my life is pretty much a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, as Anne of Green Gables would say. I had to buy a curling iron, a flat-iron, a hair-dryer w/diffuser, a pack of rechargable batteries w/charger, and a hole-punch, on account of the hole punching & binder system here is freaky weird--don't get me started. Anyway, having to rebuy all this stuff depressed me greatly. Ladies, if you ever come here, just give in and accept defeat now. So then I had to spend my bus money on Cadbury's Whole Nut chocolate bars, which were 4 for a pound. I did this because at the moment I needed chocolate more than I needed a ride home. And if I've already eaten three of them, well, that's none of your business. I needed them.

Oh! The other sad experience of today was to do with the bathroom. You may remember that my landlord is in the middle of tiling the bathroom, and that there is no shower at the moment. Getting a bath around here is not an easy thing. Now there are houseguests added to the mix, repairs are still underway, and I never know when it's safe to use the thing. Plus, hello, it's a bathtub. Who the heck even takes baths? I mean, by the end of it you're pretty much sitting in your own dirt and soap and shampoo and shaving residue (if you actually shave your legs, which I certainly haven't done lately) and conditioner. If you're me, and it's only like the 2nd bath you've had all week, that's a lot of filth. Also, you're sitting where other people sit. With a shower, you're only putting your feet where other people's feet have been. I would much rather do that than be putting other parts of me where other people's parts have been. I mean, I barely even know these people!

So last night I gave my landlord the heads up, "Hi [Landlord], just wanted to let you know that I'll be using the bath in the morning, and I wanted to know if there was a time when you or [The Houseguests] were planning to use it." Because the day before everyone else decided that they needed a bath just as I woke up, so I didn't get one. Anyway, she got this stricken look and said that she was sorry, but she'd just put up more tiling and it needs 24 hours to set before anyone uses the bath, and could I possibly wait till the afternoon? Okay, see, by this point my curly hair looks, at best, like someone who's been at Girl's Camp too long. At worst, I look like a Rastafarian with blond matted dredlocks. It's really quite horrible, so I've been pinning it up for days now and I look like some freakish character from Gone with the Wind or something, all school marmish.

So tonight I told her again, "Okay then. I'm taking a bath in the morning."
Her: "Yes, that should be just fine."
Me: "At like 7:30. Or maybe even 7:00, if I feel like it."
Her: "Great."
Me: "And noooobody else will need to be doing anything whatsoever related to the bathroom at that time?"
Her: "No."
Me: "Alright then. 7:30. It's on."

Have I mentioned that she's not charging me rent until the shower's installed? I think that's very decent of her. It doesn't make me smell any better, but it will help negate the pain I felt at my recent purchases. That and the chocolate. Ooooh . . . one bar left . . .

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Amidst everything...

Good news! Good news! My sister officially look like Marilyn Manson now. WOOT! She went for hair modelling, and the hairdresser gave her the Marilyn hairstyle. Saddly, for various untastful reasons given by non-metalheads, they loathe this superbly cool image and become ashamed of it. Why? Plus, you got this image for free and you earned a heftly amount of 700 dollars just for it! Alright, I'm so looking forward to seeing her this weekend. Uber coolness.

Still speaking of siblings, my brother's hair is getting long, resulting in a very very queer phemonemon. Upon looking at him at a certain angle of elevation, he actually look like Matthew Heafy of Trivium! Gosh! That young talented vocalist, yes! Good, for that reason, I support my brother in not cutting his hair.

Oh yes, Slipknot is featured in Lime. Lime?! Is it a mistake? Typo? Nope, sad to announce, it IS Lime. Alright, what the fuck is Slipknot doing in that notorious second-graded magazine of Singapore? Intrigued, I read on. The questions they asked Corey is extremely uninteresting and obviously repetitive. Corey, uninterested or even bothered to answer properly, gave similar second-graded answers to stuff that reporter's mouth and made a deft escape from the irritating clutches of the ignorant and uneducated media.

There's one thing that entrapped in looking at that 2 miserable pages, no, 2 to be exact. One; the caption: Mick demostrates the fine art of headbanging. That's a decent line. Two; Joey! Of course, Joey has always been the magnet of Slipknot, undoubtedly. I hope those media and emos won't demagnetize him too much. Keep thos alternating currents and soft-iron coils to yourself, pricks!

To add on to it, Lime misspelt Craig as Graig. And, they can just use the famous collective term for Slipknot's fans, just use Maggots! Sigh, uninformed group of reporters...

These days... have been... crazy mugging days. I almost can feel my creative and expressive side seeping away into the sponges of the bookish abyss. Look what excessive mugging can do to you, sooner or later, you'd become an uninteresting dimwit who rely on books but not your logic or principles. Pathetic eh? Worry not, I'll try all means to keep my sanity at a healthy and ventilated level. One; by metal music. As the famous quote conjured by me goes, 'A dose of headbanging a day, keeps depression at bay.' It's definitely useful, try it someday! Two, try crapping with your siblings. One very ideal example occured yesterday, my brother (again) hates drinking soup. So, I said to him, 'Survivors ready?' Go!' in the exact manner of Jeff the host. Then he went on to gulp the soup. Then somehow, Survivors mutated to Fear Factor. I said again, 'Eeek. It tastes real bad right? Yuck! Ekkk!', giving generous hints of pseudo disgust. My brother successfully finished with the soup. Then, I said to the imaginary contestant next to my brother, 'Well, blah blah blah. You got to beat 5 seconds to stay in the game.' Haha! My brother can be such a good crapping partner sometimes, albeit being a pain in the ass most of the time. I had fun watchin g Family Guy with him too! (I) Thank God (for the suffering) that he get the jokes unlike majority of the teenagers who just likes boybands and who do not have a mind of their own. For that, my brother rocks.

Alright, dearest rant-filled scroll of mine. End of ranting! Bye bye! Go home, Shoo!

Oh yes, a full analysis of Dark Light shalth thy next post. So please do revisit this site often. Hehe.

In The Great Beast and Set, we trust. \m/

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I started school, I went to the grocery store, and my weather pixie is a liar

She kept showing these partly cloudy skies, but I tell you those skies were leaden today, people.

It was finally the first day of school. And since I've seen Finding Nemo approximately 300 times this past summer (compared to the 700 times Savvymom has seen it) I now have Nemo in my head, shouting, "First day of school! First day of school!"

I think it went okay. I picked up my ID card, wherein I look really nasty. I got a login and password, neither of which work. And the director of the department came in and basically said that we were all going to drop dead from all the coursework, and that he was very excited about it. And that this won't be like the lazy little 3-year undergrad programs we're used to. This was worrisome, since it took me 4 years to get my bachelor's and I have no idea what these lazy 3-yr programs are supposed to be like.

The way they have it set up I have lectures and tutorials every morning starting at 9:00am, with an afternoon lecture and "practical" (which I think means lab) on Tuesday afternoons. On Friday I only have one class so I'm done by 11:00. I had the evil, evil thought of trying to change my elective class so that I don't have anything on Friday, but it's the Gender & Information Studies class that I'm all excited about, so I can't do that. But how cool would it have been to have a 3-day weekend every single week???

There are no classes on Wednesday afternoons here. The administrator who told us about that says it's because that time is dedicated to "running and jumping," and the athletes who wish to do that. I guess since the University is a big sports school and lots of people want to be Olympic athletes or something, they just shut everything down and devote that afternoon to athletics. I don't know exactly what she means by "running and jumping," though. Maybe the athletes go and train, or all the students participate in intramural games during that time, or if everyone is just supposed to drop their books and start running and jumping. Because there's no way that's happening.

I went to Sainsbury's grocery store today after class. I think my Mom should fly out here just so that she and I can walk up and down the aisles and marvel at all the fun stuff on the shelves. There's lots of prepackaged food, but it's things like cheddar & chive sandwiches and chicken tikki masala meals. Also there's squash. Who even thought that up? I noticed lots of organic foods. There's actually a store brand and an organic store brand, and you can see which things are made/grown locally. As much as I would like to be Posh Organic Girl who Supports Local Industry, I'm also Cheap College Girl Who Can't Actually Afford to Support Local Industry if It's Cheaper to Buy Food from War-Torn Areas.

There is a section where every evening they mark down the stuff that's about to expire. So I got this fresh creamy roasted veggie soup thing for 75p. Yay me! I also found a salesguy to show me where the peanut butter was. It was hidden away in with all the marmalades and bramble jams, and the jars are really tiny. This Greek girl next to me asked if the jar of honey she was looking at was any good, and I had to tell her that I didn't know—I was in the same boat she was. I guess there is such a thing as Greek honey, and they had jars there, but it was really expensive.

I finally found tortillas after searching everywhere. They had English muffins and naan breads and pitas, and finally down at the bottom I found one pack of "California-style" tortillas, with directions on how to use them and stuff ("Wrap them around exotic fillings!"). I have to mention, though, that England is dead to me, because it doesn't carry black beans. What is up with that? Do they think I'm going to eat black-eyed peas or kidney beans or some other nasty crap on my fajitas? I'll need to look around and see if any of the other grocery stores sell them, because dang.

But all that was forgotten when I reached the cheese aisle. I could just die over the cheese. There are so many different kinds! I bought medium English cheddar this time, which is more white than yellow. But they also have Irish Cheddar and Red Leicestershire and Double Gloucestershire and all these other things I've never heard of. I think I'll just work my way down the row.

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Finally! Dark Light!

Woot!

Finally, after 3 perilous journeys in vain for Dark Light, I got it at a queer location of Towers Records. Well, the cover looked insane! Your heart will go awww and melt at the sight of it. Hehe. Music-wise, you got to scrutinise and 'Feel' their music, then Bam! You are hooked to it.

Ville Valo, I <3 you!

As for these few days, it have been a foul time stoning at home, being unreasonably oppressed and coerced to study. Fuck. I'm beginning to loathe this so-called home of mine. I'm not that lousy and I've been putting consistent and reasonable amount of effort onto my studies, what the fuck they want? I do not give a two fucked up hoots about them. Rant all they want. I won't become a fucked up mugger shitbag for the sake of Os. I see no reason why people get so uptight about studying, studying to me is just a phase of life. Yes, i enjoy studying, I dare say. But, I study purely for the thirst for knowledge and wisdom, not for that fucked up certificate that this mindless society brimmed of brainwashed fucks have been soughting after like some Holy Grail. Alright, enough of ravening rants of mine.

To cheer me up just by a little, I had Subway today! That has became my weekly ritual . Subway is the cure for this modern world's teenagers. I guess, under the shroud of this 'fast-food' label, teenagers like me would grow to love vegetables alot more. Neat! Subway Owns.

Speaking of food, now I can fully understand why Fariza is so in love with chicken. I had honey roasted chicken several days back. Gosh, it was heavenly!

Anyhow, I so want to meet up with any metalheads! I can't stand the feeling of hanging around with non-metalheads. Reasons being, first and foremost, they are not metalheads, obviously. Secondly, they suck, that's a universal fact. Thirdly, after much scienitfic investigations, they are either Emos or Cheena Pop Lovers, or combination of both which is far more terrifying. Fourtly, they still suck. Fifthly, I just don't like their faces. Sixthly, I don't know if there's a word called 'sixthly'. Last but not least, I want to do the Devil Horn \m/ lock thingy so badly! When I do to non-metalheads, they have 2 reactions. One, they pretend they didn't see it. Two, they keep asking stupid questions. Bleah. Why is this world like this? God is overly ambitious by creating so many useless people. Save your resources, God! Otherwise, Heaven's gonna have a new problem of renewable resources, and you got to use the 3Rs to conserve them later. Haha. Me talking nonsense.

Oh yes, I saw a company named 'Nordic Corporation' at some ulu industrial park. Neat!

Alright, logging off now and back to Dark Light!

In Darkness and The Infernal Yahweh, we trust. \m/

Hail, my fiends of this diabolical lair.

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SPIDER ALERT DON'T LOOK SPIDERS SPIDERS!!!

This is my warning for those of you who may not wish to just get slammed in the face with a spider picture.


But I have to take a poll to figure something out, and this way I can save words.


Have those of you who are squeamish about spider pictures gone?




Yes?




I promise, they're going to be coming up now.




Alright then. And please understand that my camera does not have a great zoom, so this picture was not an easy one to take and I started squealing like a little girl.

Savvymom, this isn't a hobo spider, is it? I know they shuttled their way over to the US from either Europe or Asia or something, but I couldn't remember which. Here's a picture of it dead, in case that helps.



Any spider people in here who can tell me what it is?

I suddenly feel like I'm in the movie Arachnaphobia, where all the spiders start dropping down on people from everywhere. There was this HUGE spider in the doorjamb when I got home tonight, and then I found another one in my room 10 minutes later (the one in the picture). This second one was fast, and also wanted to kill me. So we had to play this awful hide & seek game under my desk, because I couldn't leave something like that alive in my room. I just knew any second it was going to appear out of nowhere and launch itself at my face.

Then I found another one while I was moving furniture, only it slid under my door and disappeared! Now it'll probably come back while I'm asleep and in the morning I'll be all dessicated and whatnot. Plus since the house is old they just slip right under the doors to get inside and outside.

They probably aren't hobo spiders, though, because those aren't supposed to be that great at climbing, and that first huge spider shimmied up that doorjamb like nobody's business. The second two I found in my room on the second floor. But still, ick! Ugggh! Freaking English spiders!!!

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