The reader accepts, on reading of this disclaimer, that the Internet is a vast wasteland of crap that spews out of human minds. This blog is no different. Any assumptions or conclusions that the reader draws from this blog are not the responsibility of the author, along with any physical or psychological harm that might result from the reading of this blog.
Author
The author is a paranoid, deranged and cynical misanthrope who records snippets of her life so that she will remember them when she grows old and withered. The identities of any names or initials on this blog are based on the assumptions of the reader unless otherwise specified, and the author claims no responsibility for them.
Reality
The author somehow got into medical school. Yes, you of the general public, shudder and fear the wrath of an inept doctor.
Loves
Reading, Maisy (my dog), tea, writing (albeit badly), piano, music, junk food.
Hates
Almost everything else besides the things mentioned above.
Friends
Bao Cheng' Bernice' Chien Young' Chun Hing' Claire' Faustina' Felicia' Ferly' Gloria' Irene' Irene & Jiaying' Jac' Jiamin' Jiasin' Jiaying' Lutheng' Karene' Marissa' Melesa' Mingyi' My fictionpress' Pamelia' Pei Rong' Qiu Ting' Rachel' Satires Site' Stasia' Sylvia' The Clique' Vinette' Wenjia' Xin Rong' Xue Ying' Yanne & I' Yanne & Jamie' Zeena' 203'
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Chat area
I've just looked at Sars' 'totally unlike Sars' post, and here are my unworthy comments.
I do not have a book that's kept for 14 years of my life, but I do have this blog that's probably containing over a year of my innermost but mostly 'outer-most' thoughts. And sometimes, looking back at them sends waves of nostalgia through my no longer existent brain, as well as a cocktail of many other powerful feelings.
Many who have looked into the attics of my blog have commented on the LSC'04 post, of which my command of the ah-soh language was better than never. I could have happily logged into the account, commanded my lousy and lazy index finger to right-click on 'settings', scroll all the way down to that post, and lo and behold! I could click delete, send it reeling somewhere down the vortex of cyberspace and into an unfathomable abyss, and keep up my 'image' of a totally 'ah-soh-phisticated' image.
The reason I didn't want to was probably because of the fact that sometimes, reminders of your previous stupidity are needed to stop you from getting your actually-empty head inflated with helium. Because, if that happened, it wouldn't get you anywhere except into outer space, where you can no longer hear those bloody minions shouting 'good riddance' on Earth. Well, perhaps then you can fill your mind with images of outer space, as well as a few martians and 'jupiterians'...
Reading through my previous post, it's probably one of the times when I tell myself 'Hey, that's absolutely true!', despite the fact that I'd written it myself. Say I'm schizophrenic, but sometimes, you're 'possessed' to write something you feel as if you hadn't, and when you read it, it's almost like you never wrote it. The part of missing nothing else besides the food's probably wrong, but well...
And this links to Sars' point of letting go. It's so easy to say 'oh, just let go... Like you're holding a great big balloon, and you let it go, see the red dot fly higher and higher into the blue till it disappears'. Using this warped analogy of a balloon, imagine how hard it is for a kid to let it go... And balloons actually come down after some time... So is this related to Freud's theory of repression in any way?
That line was just another of my random ramblings, thus ignore it. And since I've raised the concern of my becoming 'bimbotic' with Sera, shall save myself the mortification of not mentioning it here.
8:45 PM