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Friday, December 25th, 2009

bakuretsu10shi

9:48p Rant for the day. Before Christmas goes and becomes Boxing Day, I'm dropping by to say, no, it wasn't much of an eventful day for me. It's just another holiday in a holiday for me this year, which can be construed as leading to a fuzzy future where I live out a miserable life as Scrooge, but I don't think so. I mean, I don't hate fruitcake and turkey and that has to count for something. But Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it. :) I lost a bit of skin while practising at the bike school on Tuesday but my leg is still attached to its relevant sockets, so that's a good thing. Still, skin isn't a good form of protection against scrapes (and it holds up particularly poorly against tough surfaces), and when I get a bike I'm investing in heavy duty riding boots. ...Sorry about the mental image (if you've a queasy stomach. Next time, read after meals, yes?). I've been thinking about why I like to list out my latest bodily afflictions on the blog. Besides the obvious lack of something interesting to talk about, I guess it's also because I can't really tell anyone IRL about it, not casually at least, and definitely not in a jokey you-can-get-me-a-peg-leg-next-year-l-o-l way either. My mother doesn't want to know, though she's rifled through the junk in my room enough times to see the bike school textbooks and maybe even my helmet, hidden not so cleverly in the little helmet-sized cupboard. My siblings don't dare to ask because I'm a scary older sister. And my father's heart is in China, land of opportunities. What I do here is sort of like how my rugby-playing born-again brother proudly describes every new injury he sustains in the course of duty to gain sympathy he is too manly to ask for. I don't describe my injuries to ask you to tell me not to continue learning to ride. That is weird and counterintuitive and frustratingly stupid. In case my minor injuries so far, as listed in earlier posts, have detracted from the point, I must state here: I do like riding, and if you haven't tried operating a motorcycle before, you don't know what it's like and you can't try to theorise from imagination what it's possibly like, not even if you can cycle really fast. I need to put these injuries down, I think, because when I see things in type (or print) I remember them better, then hopefully I won't become an idiot when I get a license to ride and decide to forego the boots and jacket and gloves because of stupid stupid excuses like "They're too expensive" or "I don't want to sweat like a pig". Because I am rather attached to my legs and arms, and I'd like to hang onto them for a little longer even when I get a motorcycle. current mood: awake current music: light prayer-school food punishment

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Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

bakuretsu10shi

12:09a I can make a mascot too! What I figured was, since I saw the nonsense (you should take a look at this first before you read any further) my fine country comes up with to sell plushies, 'Hey I can do this too, what?' so I did. I used tmd's image of the Deformed Labbit as my inspiration because it felt apt. Saint Labbit St. Labbit's story Labbit got his name from "The Married Adventures of Dick Labbit and His Furious Wife", a legendary local publication written purportedly by a clinically insane former catwalk model hairstylist, made all the more famous because it allegedly doesn't exist. As the urban legend went, the book title was supposed to be "The Merry Adventures of Dick Rabbit and his Spurious Life", but the writer sold his story to a publisher who forgot to reset his Word spellcheck to English (UK) after doing a Singlish-filled autobiography on Ris Low. ( There's more. Bwahaha. ) current mood: awake current music: flat-school food punishment

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