Work yesterday...was actually kind of fun.

One of my coworkers brought her 9-year-old daughter to the office and she sat with me in my secluded office/corner and we talked about drawing, the Jonas Brothers, why Miley "hates" Selena Gomez, about how my "work" ethic is fantastico, more drawing, Webkinz and all these other things. It made the work day go by a little bit quicker and it was nice to talk to someone relatively my age. C: Girl was quite adorable though I forgot her name. XD

After getting home from work...I was really bored. I had downloaded stuff from MangaTraders a little while ago and never read them so I tried reading them but I only really liked one story in "Hand Which" and I didn't really absorb anything in it. "Dakismete! Noir" didn't even get read. I just skimmed it because it looked brain-breaking. "Burning Twin Love" was downloaded for the lulz but I couldn't even get through the first couple of pages because it looked like everyone had almost the same face and that was going to bother me. 8'D I'm totally going to download more insane crap from MangaTraders later lulz

Oh, I read the latest chapter of "DOGS". OH I LOVE YOU BADOU. <3 And Nill is quite the adorable girl and I want more Haine and Naoto. :C That'd be so cuuuuute cool.

I want another chapter of "Soul Eater" out. In other news, I can't really watch the anime anymore. I feel bored watching it. SE isn't boring but rewatching what I've read is kind of boring even if it is presented in amazing colours and motion. I want to watch the anime though, just for Ox, who is slowly usurping Papa as my favourite character. PAPA MAKE A FREAKIN' APPERANCE. D8<

Also, people see the OFFICIAL DUB TRAILER FOR GURREN LAGANN yet? I thought it was well enough though I'm wishing that Kamina had a bit more power to his voice. I think Simon and Yoko sounded great and Viral sounded well enough but I really really really wanted to hear Leeron. :C Leeron is so much love and they showed him so why couldn't they put in a clip of Leeron speaking? But LULZ. "Believe in the Kamina that believes in you!" "BROTHERLY COMBINING -- GURREN LAGANN!!!!!" Can we say funny? XD

Speaking of funny, it seems I can't go through the day without speaking to my best male bud. :C He really makes life seem fun half the time. I almost went through the day without talking to Anthony but he logged in 30 minutes before midnight and we just started talking. He didn't have a fantabulous day and I wanted him to get it off his chest but he said he just wanted to talk about anything other than his day. So we did~

Horrorhacker: BROCKxASH
Horrorhacker: BRASH
not emofied: NO NO NO
not emofied: YOU'VE GOT IT WRONG
not emofied: ASH x PIKACHU
Horrorhacker: JAMESxBROCK?
Horrorhacker: WOAH
not emofied: THAT'D BE HOT TOO
Horrorhacker: IT WOULD
not emofied: I KINDA WANT THAT NOW
Horrorhacker: JOCK XD?
not emofied: JAMESxBROCK
Horrorhacker: BAMES XD
not emofied: LULZ
not emofied: BRAMES
Horrorhacker: HOMG
Horrorhacker: J-ROCK
not emofied: YES
Horrorhacker: J-ROCK
not emofied: I want J-Rock now :C
Horrorhacker: Me too
Horrorhacker: I might Fangirlart that up
not emofied: Along with Cabbage Guy and Foamy
Horrorhacker: J-Rock was meant to be
not emofied: I expect this of you
Horrorhacker: Of course
Horrorhacker: Foamy and cabbage man should be watching hot sweaty mansecks between J-Rock
not emofied: :c Naaah
not emofied: Foamy and Cabbage would be making the hot kinky pron
Horrorhacker: Flabbage XD?
Horrorhacker: Coaby XD?
not emofied: Flabbage and J-Rock are the way of the future
Horrorhacker: Flabbage and J-Rock
Horrorhacker: WIN
Horrorhacker: Wow, to lovely Slash Pairing
Horrorhacker: XD I bet Flabbage is a first
not emofied: XD You never know
not emofied: Those crazy fangirls
Horrorhacker: It just SOUNDS kinky XD

( Tarot Card Meme thing )

Lastly, good luck with your goal, vanille. C: I hope you raise a ton of money today!
And hallo thar eternalambiance to my flist! :D Here is my intro post and here's my contact info~ C:

 Old Black Joe - an American folk song composed by Stephen Foster (white guy? yes, and he's also known as the 'father of American music') in 1860/1861. (The man also penned, among others, 'Beautiful Dreamer', 'Camptown Races', 'Old Folks at Home' and 'Oh! Susanna'.)

Here are the lyrics to 'Old Black Joe':

Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,
Gone from the earth to a better land I know,
I hear those gentle voices calling Old Black Joe.

Chorus:
I'm coming, I'm coming,
for my head is bending low,
I hear those gentle voices calling
Old Black Joe.

Why do I weep, when my heart should feel no pain,
Why do I sigh that my friends come not again?
Grieving for forms now departed long ago.
I hear those gentle voices calling Old Black Joe.

Chorus

Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?
The children so dear that I held upon my knee?
Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go,
I hear those gentle voices calling Old Black Joe.


And I just want to point out a line in one of the verses from 'Everybody Knows':

And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

Probable reference to, at the very least, the title of 'Old Black Joe', though I'm sure there's more of meaning behind adding that line to the song, one than I'm too tired to even try and half-way figure out.



Royal Victoria -  a hospital that's been around for over a hundred years (established in 1893) in Montreal, Quebec. The hospital was made possible by the financial contributions of two Scottish immigrants, Donald Smith and George Stephen.

Here is a shot of the main entrance to the Royal Victoria:




Vitalis - a brand of hair tonic for men.

Here's a 1956 print ad for said product:

y do people fear rejection? what is it that triggers our heart to feel such an inbalanced, down and depressed emotion?
why is it that some people choose to have the uncertainty feeling inside em instead?

haha. yeah, i do fear rejection too. but i dont like uncertainties. "what if... i do this, and it becomes worse?" "what if i dont do this, will i ever know?"

i've been getting negative responses all my life
so much that, i rather do it, and remedy any thing tht backfires.
WHY?

i dont know lah. maybe it's just me. the just-get-over-and-done-with and-stop-harping-over-the-matter attitude.

u know, like failing A maths,
failing GP,
failing phonetics...
SO WHAT?! fail only mah. kena rejected only mah!

but if i didnt pick myself up and try other stuff, i'll nv know that i could be that great in Art, i have inborn talent for talking, (eh nt quite a talent haha), i can be a merit award holder despite knowing nothing about maths nor science, i could eh.. take part in talentime with zero musical talent (haha tht was the boldest thing i did in my JC days) and i could do many many things that i never thought i would have tried in my entire life.


no risk is a risk itself!!!!! baaah.

maybe i have those impulsive gambler attitude. and since i always believe that chances are self created, i shld seize every chance i have!

Tmr's the start of NIE jail term (sentenced to 4 days of  jail term for being a smart alec!) . so the whole week would be quite packed. week after next, school reopens. damn. i only have tonight left, and i have no plans.
really wanna do something bold tonight!!!!!
shld i?
shld i?

oh what the heck.
i will.

u all wait & see. haha..
tata for now, im off for the class gathering. not sure what will i be expecting.

 The Favourite Game, Book I 

8

His father decided to rise from his chair.
     "I'm speaking to you, Lawrence!"
     Your father's speaking to you, Lawrence," his mother interpreted.
     Breavman attempted one last desperate pantomime.
     "Listen to your father breathing."
     The elder Breavman calculated the expense of energy, accepted the risk, drove back his hand across his son's face.
     His lips were not too swollen to practice 'Old Black Joe'.
     They said she'd live. But he didn't give it up. He'd be one extra.


9

The Japs and Germans were beautiful enemies. They had buck teeth or cruel monocles and commanded in crude English with much saliva. They started the war because of their nature.
     Red Cross ships must be bombed, all parachutists machine-gunned. Their uniforms were stiff and decorated with skulls. They kept right on eating and laughed at appeals for mercy.
     They did nothing warlike without a close-up of perverted glee.
     Best of all, they tortured. To get secrets, to make soap, to set examples to towns of heroes. But mostly they tortured for fun, because of their nature.
     Comic books, movies, radio programmes centred their entertainment around the fact of torture. Nothing fascinates a child like a tale of torture. With the clearest of consciences, with a patriotic intensity, children dreamed, talked, acted orgies of physical abuse. Imaginations were released to wander on a reconnaissance mission from Calvary to Dachau.
     European children starved and watched their parents scheme and die. Here we grew up with toy whips. Early warning against our future leaders, the war babies.


10

They had Lisa, they had the garage, they needed string, red string for the sake of blood.
     They couldn't enter the deep garage without red string.
     Breavman remembered a coil.
     The kitchen drawer is a step removed from the garbage can which is a step removed from the ouside garbage can, which is a step removed from the armadillo-hulked automatic garbage trucks, which are a step removed from the mysterious stinking garbage heaps by the edge of the St. Lawrence.
     "A nice glass of chocolate milk?"
     He wished his mother had some respect for importance.
     Oh, it is a most perfect kitchen drawer, even when you are in a desperate hurry.
     Besides the tangled string box there are candle-butts from years of Sabbath evenings kept in thrifty anticipation of hurricanes, brass keys to locks which have been changed (it is difficult to throw out anything so precise and crafted as a metal key), straight pens with ink-caked nibs which could be cleaned if anyone took the trouble (his mother instructed the maid), toothpicks they never used (especially for picking teeth), the broken pair of scissors (the new pair was kept in another drawer: ten years later it was still referred to as 'the new pair'), exhausted rubber rings from home preserving bottles (pickled tomatoes, green, evil, tight-skinned), knobs, nuts, all the homey debris which avarice protects.
     He fingered blindly in the string box because the drawer can never be opened all the way.
     "A little cooky, a nice piece of honey cake, there's a whole box of macaroons?"
     Ah! bright red.
     The welts dance all over Lisa's imaginary body.
     "Strawberries," his mother called like a good-bye.
     There is a way children enter garages, barns, attics, the same way they enter great halls and family chapels. Garages, barns and attics are always older than the buildings to which they are attached. They have the dark reverent air of immense kitchen drawers. They are friendly museums.
     It was dark inside, smelled of oil and last year's leaves which splinted as they moved. Bits of metal, the edges of shovels and cans glimmered damply.
     "You're the American," said Krantz.
     "No, I'm not," said Lisa.
     "You're the American," said Breavman. "Two against one."
     The ack-ack of Breavman and Krantz was very heavy. Lisa came on a daring manoeuvre across the darkness, arms outstretched.
     "Eheheheheheheh," stuttered her machine guns.
     She's hit.
     She went into a spectacular nose dive, bailed out at the last moment. Swaying from one foot to another she floated down the sky, looking below, knowing her number was up.
     She's a perfect dancer, Breavman thought.
     Lisa watched the Krauts coming.
     "Achtung. Heil Hitler! You are a prisoner of the Third Reich."
     "I swallowed the plans."
     "Vee haf methods."
     She is led to lie face down on the cot.
     "Just on the bum."
     Geez, they're white, they're solid white.
     Her buttocks were whipped painlessly with red string.
     "Turn over," Breavman commanded.
     "The rule was: only on the bum," Lisa protested.
     "That was last time," argued Krantz the legalist.
     She had to take off her top, too, and the cot disappeared from under her and she floated in the autumnal gloom of the garage, two feet above the stone floor.
     Oh my, my, my.
     Breavman didn't take his turn whipping. There were white flowers growing out of all her pores.
     "What's the matter with him? I'm getting dressed."
     "The Third Reich vill not tolerate insubordination," said Krantz.
     "Should we hold her?" said Breavman.
     "She'll make a lot of noise," said Krantz.
     Now outside of the game, she made them turn while she put on her dress. The sunlight she let in while leaving turned the garage into a garage. They sat in silence, the red whip lost.
     "Let's go, Breavman."
     "She's perfect, isn't she, Krantz?"
     "What's so perfect about her?"
     "You saw her. She's perfect."
     "So long, Breavman."
     Breavman followed him out of the yard.
     "She's perfect, Krantz, didn't you see?"
     Krantz plugged his ears with his forefingers. They passed Bertha's Tree. Krantz began to run.
     "She was really perfect, you have to admit it, Krantz."
     Krantz was faster.


11

One of Breavman's early sins was to sneak a look at the gun. His father kept it in a night-table between his and his wife's bed.
     It was a huge .38 in a thick leather case. Name, rank and regiment engraved on the barrel. Lethal, angular, precise, it smouldered in the dark drawer with dangerous potential. The metal was always cold.
     The sound of the machinery when Breavman pulled the hammer back was the marvellous sound of all murderous scientific achievment. Click! like the smacking of cogwheel lips.
     The little blunt bullets took the scratch of a thumbnail.
     If there were Germans coming down the street . . .
     When his father married he swore to kill any man who ever made advances towards his wife. His mother told the story as a joke. Breavman believed the words. He had a vision of a corpse-heap of all the men who had ever smiled at her.
     His father had an expensive heart doctor named Farley. He was around so much that they might have called him Uncle if they had been that sort of family. While his father was gasping under the oxygen-tent in the Royal Victoria, Doctor Farley kissed his mother in the hallway of their house. It was a gentle kiss to console an unhappy woman, between two people who had known each other through many crises.
     Breavman wondered whether or not he'd better get the gun and finish him off.
     Then who'd repair his father?
     Not long ago Breavman watched his mother read the Star. She put down the paper and a Chekhovian smile of lost orchards softened her face. She had just read Farley's obituary notice.
     "Such a handsome man." She seemed to be thinking of sad Joan Crawford movies, "He wanted me to marry him."
     "Before or after my father died?"
     "Don't be so foolish."
     His father was a tidy man, upturned his wife's sewing basket when he thought it was getting messy, raged when his family's slippers were not carefully lined under respective beds.
     He was a fat man who laughed easily with everybody but his brothers.
     He was so fat and his brothers were tall and thin and it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, why should the fat one die, didn't he have enough being fat and breathless, why not one of the handsome ones?
     The gun proved he was once a warrior.
     His brother's pictures were in the papers in connection with the war effort. He gave his son his first book, The Romance of the King's Army, a thick volume praising British regiments.
     K-K-K-Katy, he sang when he could.
     What he really loved was machinery. He would go miles to see a machine which cut a pipe this way instead of that. His family thought him a fool. He lent money to his friends and employees without question. He was given poetry books for his bar-mitzvah. Breavman has the leather books now and startles at each uncut page.
     "And read these, too, Lawrence."

               How To Tell Birds
               How To Tell Trees
               How To Tell Insects
               How To Tell Stones

     He looked at his father in the crisp, white bed, always neat, still smelling of Vitalis. There was something sour inside the softening body, some enemy, some limpness of the heart.
     He tore the books as his father weakened. He didn't know why he hated the careful diagrams and coloured plates. We do. It was to scorn the world of detail, information, precision, all the false knowledge which cannot intrude on decay.
     Breavman roamed his house waiting for a shot to ring out. That would teach them, the great successes, the eloquent speakers, the synagogue builders, all the grand brothers that walked ahead into public glory. He waited for the blast of a .38 which would clean the house and bring a terrible change. The gun was right beside the bed. He waited for his father to execute his heart.
     "Get me the medals out of the top drawer."
     Breavman brought them to the bed. The reds and golds of the ribbons ran into each other as in a watercolour. With some effort his father pinned them on Breavman's sweater.
     Breavman stood at attention ready to receive the farewell address.
     "Don't you like them? You're always looking at them."
     "Oh, yes."
     "Stop stretching yourself like a damned fool. They're yours."
     "Thank you, sir."
     "Well, go out and play with them. Tell your mother I don't want to see anyone and that includes my famous brothers."
     Breavman went downstairs and unlocked the closet which held his father's fishing equipment. He spent hours in wonder, putting the great salmon rods together, winding and unwinding the copper wire, handling the dangerous flies and hooks.
     How could his father have wielded these beautiful, heavy weapons, that swollen body on the crisp, white bed?
     Where was the body in rubber boots that waded up rivers? 

Writing some PW kink meme inspired me to start my own kink meme... chain thingy. Anyway. I present to you:

SUPER JUNIOR KINK MEME

All of them. 8, 13, 15, 15484846788979. Politics of ONLY13 and PRO15+ is not needed and welcomed. This is just for fun/inspiration.


Rules

→ Post your request ANONYMOUSLY.
→ Fill the prompt ANONYMOUSLY.
→ One request per comment.
→ If a request inspires you, write! Write! (Or draw.)
→ No PRO15+ and ONLY13 politics. (I can't empathize enough.)
→ Requests can be filled more than once.
→ Pimp this out! Let people know what's going on!
→ Got something personal to say to me? Please AIM, LJ PM, or hit me up on MSN.
→ The most important rule of all!: Have fun!

Links of Interest

→ Masterlist of kink memes.
→ List of kinks.
→ Super Junior's Chinese Names
→ Slasher's Guide to Gay Sex

Okay, so this post was going to about something else, but I'm too tired & I really should go to sleep so have this meme that's going around all over my flist right now. I'll make a real post in the morning~

Comment anonymously(or not) saying:
➊ something that you like about me.
➋ something that you dislike about me.
➌ one thing that you don't think i see about myself.
➍ a word, quote, or lyric that reminds you of me.
➎ something you wish you could say but haven't (either about me or someone else)---LET IT OUT. ♥
➏ a character you associate me with.

I wanted to talk about my dream last night but I don't know. I'll just say it's the first idol dream I've had in a while. And Henry? Should totally grow some facial hair.

( Writing meme. )

Anyway. I was passing by my box of manga and I saw Descendents of Darkness. I reread the first volume and I decided to look for more in the box. I didn't find the second volume but I did find iiiaddiction's Cold Sleep! I'll reread it and give it back whenever we see each other again. ♥

Still a bit nervous about writing buttsex fanfics again. Urgh. I don't know. Lately I've been feeling down on myself. Mostly that I don't have any talent. I can't draw fantastically. Not everything I write is laced with gold. I can't instantly sing something perfect. My graphics are always a hit or miss. I guess I really am just a normal human being. It's not bad. I do have to work hard to achieve whatever I need to do.

I can't help but want to cry though.

DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE.

--
I've been a bit absent from LJ and I'm feeling really antsy lately... I really want to write but I don't know what to write. I have several (several) different kinds of prompts/requests waiting to be written but I don't really feel a desire to write any of them. But I want to write SOMETHING. My fingers are aching to get it out. *wriggles around*

--
Natsume Yuujinchou

Why did no one tell me of this anime/manga???
I strongly recommend it to any and everyone. The animation is very nice and the story is even better. The first two episodes are tearjerkers (well, for me the 2nd especially... ; ;) but it's really not a sad anime..
GO WATCH/READ IT. MAYBE WATCH BEFORE READING. The manga isn't bad but.. I think the anime might be better in this case. :O I can't wait for the 4th episode~~

--
I was reading some manga (..yes, dirty yaoi manga) and it was one of those "Oh no, I didn't kiss you because I like you! You see, I grew up in America and that's just how everyone greets each other there! Heh..heh... *awkward subject change*" kind of moments and I had to laugh because this situation appears a lot in manga and really, do people honestly think that's how every American greets platonic friends/strangers/coworkers/people-not-blood-related? Because.. the only people I've ever greeted with a kiss (either on the cheek or the lips) are my immediate family. Though I'm starting to think I should adopt the yaoi version of an American greeting if it always leads to hot & steamy sex. ;3

--
Eyeshield 21 ch291
( not spoilery, just a bit of frustrated capslock :< )

I'm tired and have work in the morning, so all I have time for is the honourable mentions this week, plus a bonus mosaic...

♥ quorn pasta salad ♥ How To Write With Style - Kurt Vonnegut ♥ Juliet Marillier ♥ my penpal Kana ♥ fromage frais ♥ my yoga teacher ♥ Twitter ♥ my friends list ♥ The Dark Knight (which I haven't seen, but Chris insists that I include it here) ♥ bondage tape ♥ sleeping in all morning ♥ free books arriving in the post ♥ educational Spanish dramas



1. too darn hot, 2. Untitled, 3. candy pop land

Don't you hate it when the fic you are craving doesn't exist? More talented people would probably just shrug and write it themselves. Unfortunately, my talents do not lie in that direction though depending on the strength of my craving, I may just cave and write it.

DBSK meets the classic hooker AU? Totally plotted out but still unfinished
MCR meets The Secret Garden? Petered out so quickly it might as well have never happened.
Panic meets Catholic school? Sitting quietly in the back of my mind.
MCR meets The Holiday? Has been stalled at 10,000 words for the past couple of months.

And now? I want one of those epic Frank/Gerard fics that spans the band's entire history but for Panic. And not quite so OTP.

Like, in the beginning, Brendon and Ryan are fooling around but nothing serious because just no--Brendon because he's curious, and Ryan because he's a good friend. So they come out of it angst-free and still friends and Brendon's a happy little gay boy and Ryan's just like, "I was just helping a friend. I'm not gay at all." And then Brendon hooks up with Shane and they are happily domestic with each other, and Jon joins the band, and Ryan's still all in denial about being, at least, bisexual. And of course, Ryan being Ryan, unwittingly does damage to poor Jon's heart (what, you didn't know this was going to be Jon/Ryan? *adjusts tinhat*) until Spencer tells Ryan, "Dude, you are a little gay" because Spencer is the best friend in the whole world but he wouldn't engage in homosexual acts for several months just because a friend was curious about his sexuality, that like requires a little bit of his own gayness to begin with. And so Ryan pulls his head out of his ass and replaces it with Jon's dick.

Or something like that. And better. And with a proper timeline. *facepalm*

And so as to prevent this post from being entirely useless, have some cutespam:

( click for minispam of total adorableness )

And now I'm going to get dressed and go outside. :)

Photo Meme
Ask me to take pictures of any aspect of my life that you're interested in/curious about, it can be anything from my house to my room to my favorite book. Leave your requests as a comment to this entry, I'll snap the pictures and post them in the following post.

DONE! now it's time to go to work ;_________:

I already broke my rule of posting everyday.

I just turned on the boob tube and "I know what you did last summer 2" was on.  I completely forgot about Jennifer Love Hewitt and her boy toy Freddie prince junior.  Its strange how 90's things bring back so much deja vu  for me.  Its like my entire childhood was an alternate universe, the 90's was an alternate universe. 

If I'm already feeling old, I hate to see myself at 30.
     <(>_<)>

I need to get out.
tomorrow night is my skating coaches sleepover party.
I'm nervous but I have to go.

I'm excited to get back into the swing of skating again though. 
maybe I can actually stick to this activity and lose some weight.
plus  miss all the girls.

My grade 12 year will be full of goodness.
1.new job
2.skating
3.going to paris and madrid
4.prom
5.graduation

I cant wait to start my life.