on blogging: transitions and flow

this is a little orphaned post that pertains directly to my tumblr, and as such cannot be published on my tumblr (that's just how I work, shoo).

If anyone views my tumblr blog these days (and when I say these days I mean anytime in the last year or so), I'm hoping very dearly that they see smooth transitions between the many posts. I know the common method is to post a certain category of posts in blocks, so you get a plethora of [insert X fandom] posts one afternoon and many [insert Y genre] posts in the night. Despite enjoying this style of blogging from others, I have the tendency to go in a different direction when I post: I pick colour as the main element in my visual hierarchy.

To elaborate: I feel like most bloggers, whether consciously or not, usually produce some form of transitioning on their blogs; their blogs, when viewed, flow post-to-post without the reader really noticing it. There is a smoothness that posts need, especially short ones (i.e. the one-picture ones). In most cases, when there is a whole continuous chunk of, say, SnK spam, because the subject matter ties it all together, it matters less that the colours and forms don't match from one post to the next.

Mine, however, is a multifandom and mixed blog, meaning that a random sample of three consecutive posts could be something like this: Hirunaka no Ryuusei mangacaps, photos of the sea, and a selca from Lee Jungshin. Because I rarely post the same subject matter for more than five or six consecutive posts, I can't work towards the more effective form of visuals - I have to find a different bow to wrap my blog in. What I go with: colour.

I don't reblog something if the colour and gradient clash too violently with the post I just reblogged. I won't post a photo that starts dark on the upper half  and fades to lighter shades below if I've just posted a dark one. I don't mix warm tones with cool ones except where the transition is kind and doesn't jar the eyes. The one thing I've always been particular about, in writing and in other things, is flow. I get very fussy about transitions, which is a shame because it's not something you would notice; because you only notice bad transitioning. But you know, it takes effort all the same, so I wanted to get it out just because.

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to sound all hipstery and "oh I do something unique and different" because I know I don't, but I wanted to just... say something that might make it clear that I spend just as much time worrying about the flow of my posts as anyone, despite the broad, rapid variation of my content (that I think might give the impression of haphazard reblogging).

I should really go to bed.

On introversion: why I hate humankind

I hold no delusions about this post being unbiased - it will be biased, because I'm writing as myself: a snarky cynic who thinks of the human race as a nasty wart on the nose of existence. Now, I'm fairly certain that it comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I hate people and all that jazz, so why this post now? Because of this and this and this.

Read them? Good.

Now, I get that it's easy to get irritated at people who glorify introversion and pretend to be one in order to seem deep and sensitive, but this kind of wholesale slamming of introverts downright enrages me. Are the extroverts (or ambivert, in Ms Waldman's case) who wrote these articles really so indignant about extroversion being "uncool" that they felt the need to insult introverts to reassure themselves about the ways in which extroversion is still the standard to strive for?

Addressing the first two articles first, I take issue with the level of personal offence these two ladies have taken at the attention introverts are receiving.

Just because introverts are glad that they're finally being recognised as something other than socially deficient, it doesn't mean that they're touting it as THE standard to attain, which is far more than I can say for society's traditional belief in the superiority of extroverts. Introverts over the years have spent their lives being misunderstood, teased, bullied, and denigrated - and just as they're beginning to find some semblance of representation via the Internet, along comes a bunch of butthurt extroverts that claim they're being attention whores. Really, people? Really?

I feel the need to respond to some of Ms Weaver's points directly.

1. You do not justify your social impediments as charming quirks indicative of a secretly brilliant personality.  I don't; I justify my quirks as indications of being an individual. As for my brilliance, it needs no justifications.

3. You seem OK; those around you do not constantly feel the need to ask, “Are you OK?”  People around me are concerned about me and check on me when I'm down; perhaps you should reevaluate your relationships if no one ever asks if you're alright. 

7. You don’t ruin camping trips, birthday parties, Christmas parties, office parties, bachelor parties, bachelorette parties, murder mystery parties, anniversary parties, bonfires, sleepovers, vacations, group projects, brunches, lunches, bridal showers, baby showers, concerts, and road trips simply by being yourself.  This is a horrible way of putting down billions of people in one sentence; your parents must be so proud (I know I would be). After all the effort society has put in trying to convince people that being themselves is fine, along you come and shut all that waffle down. Bravo. Slow clap. 

8. Sometimes you do things alone without tweeting “OHHHH MY GODDDD I LOVE TO DO THINGS ALOOOOONE!!!!!!!!! #INTROVERT”  Oh, but, but... Miss Weaver... have you perhaps considered that people tweeting such things might not be actual introverts?

Maybe she has. Maybe her crass listicle (I hate that word) is an attempt to be ironic, or to throw a sarcastic curveball at the extroverts posing as introverts. I doubt it, but there's that possibility - to which I would say that she still does a horrible job of it, because her phrasing covers all introverts, and offends every last one of them.

As for Mr Hudson's frightfully shallow piece on what makes people interesting, I have just this to say:
You are not my dentist, therefore you are not entitled to pull my teeth. I have no desire to share with you any of the interesting things I think about or experience, and I can see why the "boring" people you've met didn't want to either. Also, your listicle is incredibly uninteresting, not least because of your terrible choice of photos; to judge by the images you used, apparently only semi-naked white people are interesting. How boring.

I'm sick and tired of people either hating on or idolising introverts. Why do people on the internet only ever tend toward the extremes? Here's a tip: the average introvert doesn't appreciate either. The average introvert would probably much prefer not being labelled and defined simply by one dimension of their personality.

等天地梅花开

So you know (as you might) that feeling I've explained before, the one I call bogginess?

I've got to the stage in which I'm definitely boggy; my mind is 80-90% filled with the content I consume. Unfortunately, this is the stage that feels most uncomfortable. It feels rather like writers' block, but for the reader (except in this case I'm watching, as opposed to reading - but no matter, the metaphor will hold).

My head is largely filled with what I've been watching with zeal, but all of a sudden I've hit a block. I took a step back, thinking I would maybe check Facebook, check Tumblr - but when I went back to my paused video I couldn't bring myself to hit play. I'm torn between wanting to continue watching and wanting to give my brain a little time to absorb (and quite possibly recalibrate, if I may be so honest).

I'm aware that I'm writing in order to calm my mind; to settle the buzz. Oddly, I'm noticing the annoying indecisiveness and capriciousness that shows in my writing - don't you think I use the words "rather" and "somewhat" a little too often? I do. It sounds like the speech of someone who hesitates to commit to any one adjective or verb, trying to carefully pull punches. The writing of a coward. But it's proving quite difficult to write decisively; it takes so much more conscious effort than writing like a coward, and even then I find myself slipping up here and there. How strange.

Really, now. Watch as I spin in circles, never quite reaching the point (if there was one in the first place), trying to assuage the bogginess in my head. It's possibly more entertaining than watching paint dry, though I would hazard less so than watching a monkey dance. Should I bid you adieu, or should I phrase my salutations in a language I actually understand?

introspection

I may or may not have read excerpts of someone's diary in the last day or two, and I may or may not have felt some moral conflict there. I know all too well how private, how personal a diary is; there was a part of me feeling extremely uncomfortable with the whole encounter.

Having said that, I confess to some level of cruel amusement at the things I read, and I tamped down the unease by telling myself, "Well, there's always this risk, when you keep a diary, that it will be found and read. This person should have taken more care not to get it found."

Immediately after I thought that, I hated myself. I genuinely did. It was just as good as saying to a rape victim, "Well, you should have taken more care not to get assaulted." And regardless of any other moral issues in my nasty core, I've always detested, despised the societal norm that blames victims for being too "easy"; the same societal norm that has evidently wormed its way into some horrible part of me that desperately tried to avoid blame or guilt.

I won't deny my interest in finding out more, reading more. But neither will I deny that I am doing something wrong. This person is by no means a good person, and has proven to be someone I can no longer respect, but it does not change that fact that my being wronged is no justification for this breach of integrity. I've never denied having a decidedly slanted (not twisted, just...bent) character. So... yeah.

I don't know anymore. A part of me wishes that I'd never discovered this person's true character, that I'd be able to stay in blissful ignorance. Yet another, perhaps the larger, accepts it, and burns for more revelation — more retribution, even.

People are multifaceted. People are endlessly fragmented. I know that well. I also know how easy it is to pick the more comfortable way out, ascribing a character or personality to someone and then neglecting all the inner and outer conflicts that make up the important parts of the person.

Even as we scheme against this person, each fueled by our own hurt and betrayal, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. I've seen enough to realise that this person is, at the heart of it all, a confused, pained young adult whose life has been a sorry tale of lie after lie — a shoddy defence mechanism. The schemes we concoct are harmless enough, and serve only to covertly prove our theories. If it gets any further, though, I have to wonder if I'll be strong enough to put my foot down.

If there's one thing I know for sure, though, it's that I will never keep a proper diary. Not only because I would never be able to commit to near-daily entries, mind you. I suppose one might argue that I pour a lot of personal content into blogging, but while I agree that blogging is as close as I would get to writing diary entries, I must say a lot of it is carefully screened. Most posts I make in fits of emotion don't make it past the Drafts page.

Exams in a week. What joy.

screencaps

Because I can, that's why.

Also because I felt the urge to point out how few posts I made in all of 2012. I'm so sorry, dear old blog. I guess you've just fallen out of favour with me. Possibly because Blogger has fallen out of favour with the world in general, to be honest.

Yep. 

Also, I figured while I was riffling through my screen capture folder I might as well include this: a little demonstration of the horrible number of tabs I had open during the writing of last semester's company law coursework. And this was during the writing, mind you - the research and readings were much worse. Meh. I know I'm just being a terrible student and a complete lazybones, but ugh I hate dry reading. Like now, because I'm writing this as an excuse to look away from International Business.

That's a highly-recommended playlist, by the way.

Toodles.

in which the author finds her attention drifting

Theoretically, there shouldn't be any reason for my inability to concentrate. I'm holed up in my room with tea and biscuits and music. Nothing's missing from my usual studying needs. And yet there's something writhing and wriggling in my head that won't let me sit still and focus - something that pokes and prods and won't leave. I've never had a great attention span, but this is ridiculous. Even now, I'm listlessly writing about it because I can't concentrate on my notes. Ugh.

ennui

Why does it feel like I've titled another post exactly like that before? I suppose it's because I have no imagination. Whatever.

^ Image by arbebuk on dA.

What I was trying to say is that I am in another of my moods. (Well, that actually sounds incredibly stupid, because I'm technically always in a mood, whether good or bad or even neutral. But the phrase lends itself so readily; let's not mock it.) I'm in holiday mood, which has been rather ambiguous for me since I've started my studies here in the UK.

On one hand, holidays are great. They really are.

But on the other, they're just excellent for highlighting how alone I am. Away from friends and family, alone in a cold room with nothing but the dwindling attraction of the internet to distract me from acknowledging the pathetic flop that is my life.

As I write, I am slowly awaiting the deletion of my thousands of tweets, born of a mistake I made in linking my Twitter to my Tumblr account. My room is a mess of random packaging from random parcels and clothes that refuse to dry properly (I still haven't begun packing for the trip on Tuesday - which, if I might mention, is beginning to lose its appeal for me). My tea-stained mugs sit accusingly to my right, a reminder of the many dishes I have yet to wash today. My bedroom smells of my dinner, because I didn't want to eat alone in the living/dining room. No, I wanted to eat alone in front of my computer, so that I'd have less time to mull over my sorry state. Now I'll need to check if my drying clothes smell of food. But again, whatever.

To put myself in an even less favourable light, I feel compelled to mention that I actually do have plenty of things I could do right now, the aforementioned washing-up being one of them.

• I could complete my applications for a placement next year. 
• I could start revising for the January exams.
• I could draw up a revision plan for the January exams.
• I could read my many books.
• I could finish the themes challenge.
• I could take a long, indulgent, hot shower.
• I could clean my room.
• I could clean the house.
• I could start packing.
• I could sleep.

Do you see what I mean by "sad, lonely, introverted existence" right there? I assure you, it has nothing to do with it being half past two in the morning. Even if it were two in the afternoon, there'd be nothing I could do outside of this house. And it'll be like this for the next three weeks - the whole of Christmas break. While the festive cheer is heartwarming in its own way (especially since the people here obviously take the holiday far more seriously than most people back home would), it also grabs the heart and twists it into a pretzel of pain for depressingly depressing people like me.

I have nice friends, ones who think me better than I actually am, and without them I'm just... sinking beneath their expectations of me. I become the disgusting version of myself, because I don't feel the need to reward anyone's faith in me. I rot.

But writing helped. Is helping. Will hopefully help.

I can't say for sure that my mood will take a turn for the better in the weeks to come, but I'll man up about it all. I might write again, or I might not, but for what it's worth, it's made me feel a tiny bit better. Probably because my guilt about abandoning this blog (and long posts in general) has been assuaged, but I'll take what I can get. Beggars can't choose, yeah?

what am I doing wrong?

I'm lonely. There you go, it's a nice, cold, hard fact. I'm emo and homesick and tired and moody and evasive all the time now because this loneliness is growing and growing and it's eating me up and I can't stand it any more than I already have. I can't tell if I'm lonely because I have self esteem issues and feel as though no one could love such a person, or because I'm (ironically, in the opposite direction) an arrogant being who looks upon humankind as a whole as a flaw beyond help?

Perhaps I'm just over-thinking everything as a self-defense mechanism because I need to drown out the nasty voices in my head. I need to not hear the truth, whispered to me in my own mental voice, that I am just a really nasty person who will never let enough of herself be known to anyone to feel wholly accepted. I have beautiful friends who care, who want to know the reason behind my mood swings. But I don't want to tell them, I don't want to release into the world any more filth than already exists in it. All these negative thoughts should stay locked up in my mind, where at least they would damage only me.

I just don't think I could be poisonous enough to let anyone in on this unhappiness, especially not when so many of the people who care seem so happy. When someone is that happy, and that happiness is so well-deserved and so overdue, you can't honestly expect me to tell them that their happiness makes me feel lonelier than ever. That the happier they get, the further I feel my world is from theirs. That I am tired and miserable and terribly jealous of them. That I can't help the bitterness even if it disgusts me more than it would them.

And then I switch perspectives again and consider a different possibility. Could it be that I am not, after all, a vile creature who casts a pall on a friend's joy? Maybe - maybe I'm being too arrogant in assuming that my black vibes would even remotely affect that friend's happiness. Maybe I'm too nice, too careful, too conscious. Maybe I'm being a fool and keeping everything to myself when all I need is to open up and stop assuming things. Maybe I need to stop trying so hard to make something change when all I need to do is let things flow as they should. Not to strive for light or dark, but to get comfortable with the grey area and just - chill.

A list of books I have yet to read (and the reasons why)

I used to be the type of reader who couldn't put a book down, at least not for breaks more than an hour long. It wasn't because I wad such a devoted, avid reader or something impressive like that. It was simply that I have a pretty bad attention span, so if I spent too long away from the story I felt detached and it would be such a bother to get immersed again. And that also explains why I get really grumpy if I'm approached during or immediately after a story. My reaction tends to be something along the lines of, "Go away, I'm not back on your planet just yet."

But in the last two years I've grown a rather large pile of half-read and unread books, much to my displeasure. And yet I haven't done much about it, if only because I keep finding other crap to do. Maybe college caused it. It is after all a lot more difficult to crack open a storybook in the middle of a lecture than to do so in a big, noisy school classroom. So let's take a quick stock-check of the abandoned books lying around me!

1. Sense and Sensibility - I'm only halfway through this, but I don't feel motivated to finish it because I don't like any of the characters.
2. Nation - A present from last year that I meant to read immediately... but somehow it's still in the gift wrapping.
3. The Splendour Falls - Progress came to a grinding halt when the characters also proved unlikeable. I'm such a snob.
4. The World is Flat - It's non-fiction. Of course I can't finish it quickly.
5. My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me - Because it's an anthology, the stories are discontinuous and as such can be digested in little bits.
6. The Folklore of Discworld - This is another book that I am ashamed of abandoning. But again, the discontinuity made it happen...
7. Fallen - Rather annoying characters and concept. As though vampires and werewolves weren't supernatural and mysterious enough, this one turns out to be about an angel. An angel, for heaven's sake. (Yes, I totally did make that shameful pun.)

I have others, but... :/
Not too sure if naming the rest is a good idea.
Besides, I've mentioned all but four. You get the point.

I HAVE TO READ THOSE AS SOON AS THE EXAMS END OR THE SILVERFISH WILL GET TO THEM FIRST. (´Д` )

A short list of reasons why my nineteenth birthday was one of the best that I can remember:

We shall go about it in chronological order, yes?

1. Receiving one birthday text in particular that made me wonder what I ever did to deserve such love - and whether I'm so predictable that the sender could guess what the right thing to say was.

2. Balancing the first question on the accounts paper on the first try - something I'd NEVER done until now. (I'll ignore the epic failness of the rest of the paper though.)

3. A very short maths lesson.

4. Seeing pink in the library.

5. Going on a shopping spree... at the most awesome stationery shop this nation has ever seen.

6. Overtime over dessert, ridiculous photos and absurd conversation.

7. Mexican kilts and Nigerian waterfalls.

8. Coming home and finding out that Kame had been on Shonen Club, with a brilliant performance. Would it be too OOC for me to say I find the performance just a tad more special because it was aired on my birthday?

9. Checking my mail - and sure enough, the recording of Kame's Friday night radio show was up on YouTube!

10. Experimenting with the glitter powder bought from said stationer's... and getting rather pleasing results. See how it catches the light?

11. Finally placing my order for White!

On the whole, I think the ratio of ups to downs was very good. :) Thank you, to those of you who recognise yourselves in this!

/le great return

How strange it feels to be blogging here on Blogger after being enamoured with Tumblr for nearly two months now. Everything here on VerbalBrackets seems so old and abandoned somehow. But a small update is in order, partly because I feel I owe it to my firstborn blog and partly because I have absolutely no idea who visits me on Tumblr.

The people following me on Tumblr are 80% strangers, whom I know mostly through common biases and such. Here, however, is known mostly to people I actually know and so feels a little more... secure? While it's nice to be able to be a long-winded, rambling airhead on Blogger, with no fear of losing the mostly sane, cheerful impression Tumblr acquaintances have of myself, the freedom to be nothing but a diehard fangirl on Tumblr is refreshing in a way, that I don't have to restrain myself to the limits of normalcy within real-life circles of friends. If I shared my favourite music here, how many of my few visitors would even bother giving it a listen? How many on Tumblr would, on the other hand?

So I guess what I'm saying is, VisualBrackets makes me so happy because it allows me companions who love the same band and have similar interests and attitudes toward some things. Even if I don't know much about them, it's fine because the connection exists through common interests. VerbalBrackets, on the other hand, is in truth a blog of things I want the people around me to know. I want my "real-life" friends to understand why I love some of the things I do, to read and see why I do some of the things I do. And in some part, up until two months ago, I was hoping they would be game enough to step out of their usual areas of musical interest and try listening to stuff I like before judging it (and me). You know, sort of like how I try to never disapprove of music without giving it a shot?

I suppose that might have backfired, whether because not everyone has enough time to go around being open-minded or because they think they already know what my taste in music is like (giving them the full benefits of doubt, of course). In any case, it doesn't matter now that I've been shown the wonders of Tumblr - any readers who were ever only here to read can now relax and not worry about me shoving my playlist down your throat and forcing you to act interested. I'm sorry if this all sounds very bitter - I don't mean it, really. I don't feel bitter about it now that I have a different outlet. I'm just trying to say, in my usual roundabout manner, that I'm separating my interests from now on. It's more efficient this way, or at least I think it's a good idea.

Of course, since I am still a huge fangirl, you can't expect absolutely no mention of my favourite five guys when I ramble. They'll still feature a fair bit, but I'll stop the incoherent squealing and video spamming now, how's that? Also, since reblogging picture spams will surely take less time and effort than writing out lengthy rambles, there will be far less activity here on VerbalBrackets - but that's all right, because who needs a long, mostly-pointless ramble every week, anyway?

On a mixed note, though: It's May tomorrow. It's a good summer month, chock-full of cousins' birthdays (the release of 'WHITE' notwithstanding), but the upcoming exams cast such a pall on everything in life right now. But hey, it's May! :)

Sorry, trees, but I need paper books.

I've just finished reading a rather old book, Penny Jordan's Silver, online and I can't say the headache is worth the experience. Unless the experience teaches me how thoroughly ill-fitted e-books and I are; in that case, the headache is well worth the lesson.

I know e-books have been really popular and everything, but I guess I still can't adapt to it. My eyes are about to fall out of their sockets; they're pleading with me to just stab them the next time I attempt such a strenuous activity. Well, it would save them a lot of time, really, since reading a full-length novel on my computer is just a form of agonizingly slow torment that results in pretty much the same thing. I'd even be saved the headache!

I'm not about to wax on about how I'm a purist or classicalist or whatever who stands loyal to the beauty of traditional books. I ain't even much of a reader. You won't find me bitching about how the world is losing the feel of "real" books, but that's because I'm usually too busy chopping trees down for my selfish purposes. Like tissues. Heck yeah, tissues.

my first KAT-TUN meme! :O

Stolen and adapted shamelessly from the KAT-TUN Worldwide website. Kill me :P

cherry tree twisted metal spelling bee.

It's my new Line To Live By - not that I have any old ones, but this one is as good a first as any.

So I'm going through another of those phases where you've got plenty you feel like you have to say or do, but not enough time or energy to do it. Which is what everyone feels all the time, yes, but still.

I might have the tiniest bit of interest in that weird, arrogant jerk of a Glee character. And in the history of Laciel and Lydia from Inotia 3, but this is all of very little consequence.

of exhaustion

I'm back! *insert crazy tapdance*

It's funny how I always feel, during an event, that there're so many things I want to blog about, yet immediately afterward I realise I'm too tired for anything to be worth saying. It's not just blogging either - any activity that tempts me like sin doesn't actually get done as soon as I'm free to do it. Exams ended a good four days ago, and though I was so animatedly making lists of things I wanted to do over the week-long break, I haven't done anything I said I would, except perhaps the shopping... and even that isn't really done yet. I've been extremely unproductive in the face of the massive hordes.

It feels like all that sleep deficiency caught up with me; I've done nothing but sleep and shop for three days now, a horrible state to be in. I still haven't watched the Secret Garden specials, the seven movies on my list, the Summer Premium Live, my beloved DVD, and all those episodes of Chuck, backdated as I am. That's a huge amount of telly-time, isn't it? And when I think about the next DVD which will arrive in a few days...

And books! I've not finished Nation, Sense and Sensibility, Memories of Midnight, The Splendour Falls, The Magician's Apprentice, The Folklore of Discworld... the only ones I finished in single sittings recently are If Tomorrow Comes and I Shall Wear Midnight. That is a pretty massive pile of stuff waiting to be read, since I usually don't start a book and leave it aside for more than a day. I lose the sense of things, you know? So yeah, that's a lot. Not to mention my Complete Japanese book which was abandoned for the sake of the exams.

Meh. I need glasses.

佳

I know I said I wouldn't blog, but just a quickie!

A couple of days ago, I realised that I still didn't know what my name would be like in Japanese - which came as a surprise; knowing myself, it's a wonder I hadn't tried to find out sooner. I indulged in a bit of smug superiority while I searched for a pinyin converter, because my "Japanese name" would be my real name, not just some typical internet-generated one like some others have to use. All I had to do was input my name in Chinese and it would be read as kanji, how brilliant! Of course, it's considerably less than brilliant that the only thing I can read in Chinese is my own name - and my parents sometimes forget that I can. How disturbing.

So I found a pinyin converter, and typed in my name: 佳彤

Unfortunately, my smug bubble was burst when I realised the second character isn't one of the many imported by the Japanese back when they first adopted traditional Chinese as their written language. *mope

But I was also quite delighted to find out that the first half is read as kei in Japanese, which would have been the same pronunciation used for Kaye. Isn't that most amazing? I'm getting to love my name more as time passes - and I'm not talking about "Kaye". Because at the end of the day, nothing fits me better than the one I've spent nearly two decades growing into.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
P.s.: Another three papers and I'll be free for CNY! This year, those fifteen days will mean:

• a reunion even more appreciated than before, because of
• the departure of an old, very close friend to somewhere new,
• a change or two (I won't say what just yet, heh),
• a time to contemplate the near future, and of course
• a boost in finances (as always).

I haven't had a single mandarin orange yet this year. Hmm.

hurrah, it's the weekend!

And that means one week of three down! It's rather unusual of me to go through an exam period this concerned about how well I do, rather than just wishing exams would end soon so the holidays can come. The last time this happened was probably SPM, though even then it wasn't such a big thing. The main focus for me is usually to just get through the exam period. Now you get why I'm such an awful student.

My DVDs arrived! The stupid postman just lobbed it over the gate, even though it was marked FRAGILE. Our postal service is the absolute pits, lower than the bottom of hell's toilets. Hmph. But thank goodness the wrapping was secure enough! In fact, the cardboard box and its lovely nesting of thick paper and bubble-wrap makes such a lovely home for my DVDs that I haven't taken them out yet. Somehow my shelf looks unsafe, heh. I should also mention that the box has a French postal stamp on it, together with the Japanese one I expected, so I guess it's no wonder the parcel took forever to get here. It's been on an adventure!

I've only allowed myself 30 of the overall running time of 220 minutes, because I decided (after 30 minutes of pure epic awesomeness) that something so amazing should be savoured with every ounce of attention I can give it - so I don't want to watch it with half my mind fretting about exams and reciting random facts. No, I'll give it my full attention after the exams. There'll be plenty of time afterwards for this. There, I've convinced myself.

But from here on out, the papers are the tough ones (although to be honest, Accounting 1 isn't included in this category), and the timing is less forgiving. So from now till the end of exams, no blogging for me. I should stop using Facebook and Twitter too, at least for the most part. I really have been grossly indulgent with myself for the past week of papers.

The aim for the next two weeks: to keep a calm approach towards studying (even if it makes me feel ill), to appear stress-free (in the eyes of everyone but my family), and to show myself some semblance of discipline and self-control. Lofty aim, especially for the gluttonous sloth that I am, but since it's short term and I'm putting it here in writing, it should be manageable. After all, the first step has to be taken sometime, eh?

the way my mind works

This will probably come out sounding weird, given my ineptitude at conveying messages in coherent sentences when I most need to, but I'll say it anyway. I've only just realised recently that one very odd quirk of mine is that every time after I've read someone else's writing (especially others' expressions of their opinions) for an extended period of time, I feel this urge to read my own writing for a while, like some sort of balancing routine. That, or I write something myself (and then read it).

The most common scenario would be me reading through someone's blog or maybe through some random online forum where the posts are lengthy and eloquent - when I'm done, I get this feeling that I really need to read something else (preferably something by my own hand), and fast.

digital paintings

There's an artist on dA, going by the name alicexz, who has been a wonderful source of gorgeous wallpapers for me through this past month. (Oh, yeah, I change my wallpapers often. Recycling can and does happen, though.) She is, I think, a graphic designer currently based in New York - and she paints the most amazing digital paintings in Photoshop, a number of which I downloaded to use as my desktop background - my favourite being her fan art of Ghibli films and Disney classics. I like them so much, in fact, that I'm posting this here pretty aimlessly, unless you can count "wanna show y'all something cool" as an actual aim.

Visual treat!

Hahaha. You can't not love Scar's face in the third picture! The lighting in the picture of Esmerelda is lovely - that's the only reason it's a favourite, I'm not a fan of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I am a fan of Mulan, though!

"Punch him. It's how men say hello."

"My little baby, all grown up and off to destroy people... *sniff*"
"Dishonour! Dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow..."

"Ahh, come on. You went to save your father's life. Who knew you'd end up shaming him and disgracing your ancestors and losing all your friends."

"Whaddya mean you're not lucky? You lied to me?! (turns to the horse) And what are you, a sheep?!"

Mushu's lines were the best!

Oh, and... as for the last picture: if you don't know why I love it so much and made it slightly larger than the rest, you probably don't know me very well.

post-mock gloom

I have found, in all my limited experience of accounting exams, that I have this infuriating tendency to make mistakes immediately upon commencement of the paper. You see, Question 1 always involves a Balance Sheet and mine never balances on the first try. Never. And no matter how hard I try to spot the error, no matter how closely I scrutinise the question, no matter how much I recalculate, it doesn't balance until the very end, after I finish the rest of the paper and turn back to go through it again.

So I guess what I'm saying is, I suppose sometimes it really is important to take a step (or maybe a few steps) back when things seem impossible to solve. Sometimes the harder we try, the further we back ourselves into a narrow corner and the more difficult it becomes to see what went wrong. Giving things time (but not too much, the exam doesn't provide for much extra time) allows us to take a deep breath and perhaps calm down a little. Even if you're still a bundle of nerves when you come back to the problem (I'm usually not, though, I have a funny calmness at this point - rather like someone in the face of mortal danger who's already accepted death as a highly possible outcome), having seen and solved the other problems gives you a tiny boost in confidence that makes a not-so-tiny difference.

Solving other problems, no matter how simple, is great because it gives you a sense of empowerment. It makes you realise that whatever is thrown at you has a solution and that this solution can be found using what you have - most of the time, the key to solving a problem lies within the problem itself - and in that way, you strengthen yourself mentally against the big problem from earlier.

I don't know if this can be applied for anyone else or whether it's just me; some of you brainy people might not even have trouble with your first balance sheet. But yeah, it's just one of those epiphany moments.

p.s.: Look, I applied accounting to life! Ooh I'm a genius. I'm using this for mah Ps! (*warning you not to steal or you'll get caught by CopyCatch*)