I am vaguely amazed that I wrote that note eleven months ago, to the date. I am also vaguely amazed that I stuck it up on the facebook where it attracted alot of attention and made some people rather alarmed. Mm I shouldn't have done that but at the time, I didn't really understand how much of a phenomenon that social networking site was becoming. I didn't understand the internet at all actually, until I sat down in class one day and really thought about it. And discovered that its kinda weird and strange and that I could spend my whole life talking about it.

I remember feeling that way. I remember feeling very bitter and confused and sad and cold, writing that. I don't write very often.

But I also remember crying when they pushed the casket that contained my grandfather's body into the furnace. For a while I cried whenever I conjured the image. Now I suppose it has faded into a feeling of not having seen someone for a long, long time. The usual way a person feels after a loved one dies, I would guess. But that has been my experience so far. It has been twelve years, three days and counting.

Its taken me not too long I hope, to see how much feelings can change. I remember the way I used to think, feel, act when I was 15, 17, 19. I think I can say why I was the way I was, but not account for all of it. I was arrogant, more than I am now and annoying to the extreme sometimes. But I'd like to think I've kept a good few friends over the years.

I keep using the words 'I remember', I know it makes me sound old. But you can be young and mull over past events too, its just that we don't do that too often. Yet at the same time I feel old because I am aware of my memories, and never thinking at the time that they'd become so treasured. I've changed more in the past year than I have in half my life. I use the words 'I remember' because the things that I want to remember suddenly seem damn important.

I remember the good bits of my life. The singing, the warm stolen afternoons, the new emotions. They're really important because they are special to me, and everyone needs these things so that we don't all go crazy. Its quite simple, but I had to go far away for university to figure it out.

I am grateful for having figured out alot of things here actually. I feel comfortable in my own skin now.

I don't write very often. When I write its usually because I am upset, because that's when words are worth putting down. I'm not upset now though, which is curious.

I would like to write more. I find that there are many interesting things on the internet to write about. Besides, the internet weblog is what I understand, rather than the etiquette of networking sites. I will find more time to write.

I'm ok, all things considered.

Society issues aren't getting me down, I'm done and through with having to deal with any of that. I'm lucky to have nice people around.

Was poking around my archives the other day; I get the feeling that I was somehow much more interesting in the past? Or maybe its just a lack of posts now, that makes comparison a bit wonky.

I love that I found delicious.com! I am a bit of an internet pack rat, but instead of storing links in my browser everything gets uploaded onto the site. 89 links at the last count, and I've only had it for 2 months or so. Is brilliant, since I always get annoyed when reformatting my laptop wipes out bookmarks.

In other news, the postmodernism unit is Getting Me Down. I don't know why I made the very unsound choice of reading Trainspotting and Fight Club in three days. When I finished the latter at 2 in the morning I couldn't get to sleep. Talk about overdose. Now, light reading means short stories, exploring various ideas like male pregnancy or a sympathetic incestuous relationship (Octavia E. Butler). It isn't as bad as it sounds, mostly because she's a great writer.

I have a flight back in the first week of December, so I'll be seeing you soon :)

Aaaaarrrrgghhh! Why are you such a fuckwit! I give you something to do means you don't copy and paste and send it to someone else! How hard is it to rephrase me?! I am beginning to understand what people mean when they say that you gotta do everything yourself.

I am ok, but a bit stressed out. Cheered up by what I'm taking this semester, so cool. And I'll be back in December! Miss you LOTS Jenny Darling~!

The cold is setting in. I need one cream for my eczema, one for cold rash and one for general moisturising. The smell of cream has always reminded me of June holidays and waking up with blood under my nails. 6 doctors, that took. From then on I have always been resigned to having crap skin. It is worse here. Well, at least there isn't sports to sit out of anymore.

My mother, when she called that week, asked me if I was happy. If I was still punching walls or upset in any way.

I told her yes, I am. I look forward to going for classes (even the ones dominated by excitable American exchange students) and devour readings. I like to spend time eating ice cream in Newtown and having coffee on City Road, going to the zoo to oogle apathetic animals, sleepovers, bottles of wine, potlucks, wrapping up for cold weather, watching the leaves turn, walking through the city in the dark with him, adding to my bookshelf.

I told her I was happy.

Honest.

It's not a fantastic idea to tag me given that the first sentence of my three is: "[(a) subject to subsections (2A) and 2(B), state the number of shares comprised in that share capital in which the person making the notification knows he had material interests immediately after the time when the obligation arose, or...]"

I don't think anyone is interested in the next two sentences. On the other hand, I wouldn't be me if I didn't have a cheeky book hidden in my drawer (which is further from me than my statue book).

"But there were many journalists present and events immediately found their way into the press. Shelley wrote the angry and impassioned poem 'The Masque of Anarchy' as a response. Though there was widespread outrage, the government of the day supported the army and the magistrates."-- Pies and Prejudice: In search of the North, by Stuart Maconie.

Glor, you've only posted one sentence. It says you should post three sentences.

Book meme!

Tagged by a Khayce.

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Am reading Dreams of Speaking by Gail Jones for my lit class.

... families, tragically distinctive, but blendings of each, patched compositions. So it was between siblings, who moved in and out of contact, and parents and children, who shared immense histories, in which nothing was irrelevant, but learn and relearn, and then relearn again, how to get on in the demanding present.

(and the paragraph ends)

I tagg~

My sister
Bern
Alexial
Scha
Jenny

Oh! You are talking about me here also? You who cannot even match my face to my name? I thought I had met many, but it seems that you are in vast supply!

Oh! You make me feel like a celebrity!

I am not dead yet! But been too busy (plus have temperamental laptop) to blog or even come online.

I am fine. My laptop is more or less ok too. Its a bit like having to deal with a person, can't hit it, can't yell at it and needs constant love and attention. But less now, for the time being at least.

I was mighty glad to have Tor around for three weeks around Christmas. Now I like pretending that she doesn't live across several continents but rather an uncomfortably long train ride away. It makes me less sad, that way.

Christmas was both ok and an accident at the same time. We had turkey for the first time! No one knew how to carve it until my sister said that she'd seen a picture in the papers once. To go with the turkey my aunt had made paste from this nut thing, you could call it the Indonesian version of truffles. Usually its made into curry but she turned it into this wonderful smooth gravy to go with the turkey. And then we all fell ill. My dad threw up twice that day, my aunt got hospitalised and I thew up a day after. Apparently it was gastric something or other.

For those of you who didn't know, my sister has a cataract in her left eye. She is ok but it's bloody stupid to have a cataract operation at her age so she's going to wait til it gets bigger, say maybe at 40 or so. On the other hand, my mum is going to fix her right cataract in two months.

Eldred is back for Gerri's wedding. A tight fit, since he's leaving a day after the dinner (me too, for that matter). But it should be fine. In the meantime, I am learning life skills from this episode, like being able to tell what's none of my business.

I have been eating a lot of nice fu:d! Only fell ill once, thankyouverymuch. And why is it that all Chinese New Year goodies are heaty? Heaty as in, you will come down with sore throat and fever and all that. How you feel like eating too much chocolate. Or too much ba kwa (yes Jenny muchly thinking of you), or prawn rolls or love letters or that soft white cakey thing that crumbles and melts in your mouth. Well, on the other hand I think oranges rather offset that.

So I have finally got Matt on facebook. I have a picture of myself and Justin on my profile, so all his friends who poked around asked if he'd had plastic surgery. And to watch out because apparently me taking pictures with other guys I'm fond of and posting them is a bad thing? What rubbish.

So like that. I have read lots of books during this holiday. I think I might be overdosing on the military science fiction also. I am now sad that Starship Troopers was such an astoundingly awful movie.

Ok have to go eat dinner now.