20090717

Fleeting moments; Inconsequencial thoughts.

Too lazy to update properly. Here! Have a look at the randomness I managed to incorporate into my story for the newsletter.


It was a typical sunny day. Or it had been. Now the sun was just about to disappear from my sight and slip past the horizon into the other half of the world. There, it would seem like the sun was rising instead of setting. The waves were lapping almost viciously at the shore. They looked as though they were trying to eat up the sand and everything on it. For a moment I panicked; the children running on the beach would be the first victims. I felt like calling out, warning them that they should not be so close to the hungry waves. Their parents looked on, oblivious to everything but the sea, their children and the fading sun. Oblivious to me, this stranger standing behind them, further than imaginable.

I look away from the painting.

I was always absorbed into pictures like this. Pictures that told a story. Maybe the family in the picture eventually gets eaten up by the waves. Maybe they return home to wherever they came from and this day would be like all the other days of their lives; nothing more than a day. I loved guessing what the possible outcome might be. I remember hearing a song once – it spoke of pictures. Pictures of you, pictures of me, or something like that. I remember because the song never struck me as something worth remembering.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll go look for that song again. That line – it won’t stop playing, back in my head. And I forgot the rest of the lyrics. Typical. Just the eight syllables, replaying itself over and over again….

….man, do I feel sleepy. I looked at the clock on the wall, wondering if it had reached an appropriate time to sleep. It read 9.30. I groaned and stretched my muscles, cracking my knuckles out of habit. My mother always told me that I would end up with big knuckles if I continued doing that. I study my fingers. They looked the same as the fingers that I had back in high school. Maybe it was just another story – an old wives’ tale. So that we would refrain from making that disgusting snapping noise whenever we cracked our bones for fear of how our fingers would look like in the future.

Maybe.

I never heeded her advice. Probably why I ended up with completely normal fingers. Though maybe in a few years the deformation will start to show. Or there will be something wrong with my fingers. Who knows? It’s in the future and I do not have any particular concern for it at the present. Right now, I would rather worry about what I want to have for dinner, since my clock says that it is too early for me to retire for the night. Huh. It’s funny, isn’t it? I don’t actually spend my nights sleeping. But I make sure I lie on my bed for the whole 7 hours that is required. Have you any idea what interesting things can run through your mind when you lie on a bed staring at a plain white ceiling for 7 hours? I suggest you don’t try it. It’s not very pleasant. Especially if you live near a main road like I do. Not very pleasant indeed.

I get up from my brand new swivel chair and just stand next to it, staring at it. Truth be told, there was nothing really wrong with my old chair. I just bought the new chair a week ago on a whim. I don’t do that much more nowadays; buying things on a whim. It’s not that I do not have the money – it’s just that I do not see the point in doing it. You go out and buy something that you really do not want, nor need just so you feel good about spending a lot of money on something useless? That seems pretty senseless to me. Many of my friends disagree with me on that. They say the good feeling is worth the money wasted.

I say that if you want to feel good about yourself, splurging on something pointless is not the way to do it. Donating the money that is meant for that useless object is a lot better, in my opinion. Then again, I’m a very opinionated person, which is why most people do not like arguing with me. I almost always win. I only lose when I am not interested in the topic or when I am preoccupied with something else.

For no particular reason, I give the chair a push, and watched it swirl around and around until it slows down to a stop. I walk out of my office and move into the kitchenette. Every day I forage for food. I never go grocery shopping, but the cabinets are always stocked up. I suppose that’s the best thing about having a room mate, especially one as meticulous as Mark. People used to accuse me of being fastidious, but this guy beats me hands down. He would spend hours in the tiny space we call a kitchenette just because there are seven glasses that are meant to be arranged in two rows.

I look around the apartment as I think of Mark. He has been gone for two days now. We don’t really interact that much since our schedules are very different so we don’t really know what the other is doing. My rummaging pays off and I find some goodies in the top cabinet. I lay everything out and begin to make a sandwich. I could never make the same sandwich twice. My ingredients always changed according to what I Mark decides to buy.

I walk back into my office along with my sandwich and a drink and settle down on my swivel chair. I take a sip of the drink and bite off a bit of the sandwich, then I face my computer. I suddenly realize something and start typing almost maniacally. Half an hour later, I am almost at the end of my lengthy story. I read it through and laugh to myself.

Do you not find it funny that I spend 30 minutes of my life telling a story of what happened in ten minutes?



Forgive the grammar mistakes. I tried correcting them but for some reason it didn't save itself. x.o





Ryeo Wook

I think I was living under a rock. The last I saw him he looked CUTE and ADORABLE. Now he looks fuckingBLOODY HOT. Key + Lixu = Death due to extreme joy.

I've listened to random favorites of mine from SuJu and I think I could tell you which parts are Lixu's without even listening to the song. o_o

I have a dream. Of him and Key doing a duet. I will die of happinessssss. Don't care if the next day is PMR. I just want them to sing together! Can you just imagine their voices together? The potential harmony is already driving me cuckoo. What if they ACTUALLY do it; I'll scream myself silly for sure.




I'm sorry but I can't stop oogling. Excuse me while I go wipe up the pool of blood that's blinding my vision and remove any sharp objects within reach of me.

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