why...

... doesn't anything interesting ever happen to me?!?!?

Okay, truth be told, having an interesting life isn't exactly something you should wish upon yourself. An ancient Chinese curse goes: may you live in eventful times.

Events of the day runs up to about waking early, winding through the intro of Trinity Blood (there's good anime for you), going through some, err, manga, then there's off to Petaling Street, walking randomly, eating (and getting fatter in the process), meeting someone, then going off to eat some more, cousins came over, hiding in my room from durian smells while cousins are still here, watching up to episode 10 of Trinity Blood, doing more, erm, manga (hmm, lots of Japanese media going on), then dinner (and fatter again), then being deliriously bored, playing Brickman's Angel Eyes, then writing this, mostly because nobody could make it to Coffee Bean. Longest sentence I've ever written. Coolio.

I'm pretty annoyed at my current social standing. Basically, I've had very little contact with any hand-picked acquaintances a.k.a. friends. It's almost like they're purposefully evading me. To say that this borders on depressing would be extremely inaccurate. I'd say more like pissing. And at the risk of sounding like an incontinent pissant (which pissant isn't?), I'd say that it seems that EVERYONE'S own lives are just a mite too important to spend like maybe an evening or so sipping expensive coffee blends and chatting, especially at a point near which I will likely not have the liberty of choosing to comunicate in person with ever again. At the risk of sounding harsh (hell, it's not a risk, it's a given), I'd say that I'll probably, now given circumstances, be glad that I wasn't important enough because it's hardly likely that I'll want to talk to them anyway. Of course, I didn't say any of that. Rather, I was on the verge of forming those thoughts when I decided that it was better to be depressed, and revert to a year old style that seemed to work well with appearances and efficiency.

It was a good thing I wasn't born royalty. The decorum and white-assed nonsense you'd need to keep your head in court is hardly going to interest me long enough to keep from passing out in boredom. In a sense I'm already bored enough that I'm writing this, although I'm sure that I'd actually HAVE a readership if I was royalty. Accounting to that, I hear that the Pope has a blog. And does the President of the Undergroud Shithead Accomodation. Of course, I suppose anyone who runs the company running subterranean hotels for shittants (I suppose the solid version of pissants) would write a blog. Who could have a more interesting life?

Ah. Manical depressed. Why the hell can't I revert back to that mode? I kind of attribute it to the strangely long lasting afterglow of a certain setting that ended some time back. Apparently, it MAY have been impactful enough to produce so permanent an effect, which is extremely strange with me. Ah. I don't really know anymore. If anything, I still write in riddles that I usually don't understand about two weeks after writing. I confuse myself.

I feel like having a good cry. Why that is so is kind of a strange thing, considering the large volumes of occular saline I've been dripping, due mostly to a particularly fucked pair of contact lenses I had the privelege to wear. Good thing they're disposable. My eyes feel a bit itchy and dry, probably resultant of all that pseudo-crying, mostly in the first 4 days of the year. So, maybe I won't cry after all. I still feel really bad over certain things past, and they emerge at random, which is quite out of place because they cause me to pause, no matter where I am. I should get my head checked.

I got the biggest hong pao I ever received from my grandmother today. Notice, this should be read: the [biggest hong pao I ever received from my grandmother] today. Meaning the biggest red packet she ever gave me. I've gotten bigger ones, but this one is still quite a whopper. Woo hoo! Xie xie ah mah! All in good timing too. I guess I should have been more of a genius more often. Ah, thank God for the little gifts like intellectual superiority. No, really. Mwahahaha!

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Let them have the earth, I want fire! Pyromania!

Meh.