Thursday, December 16, 2010

Lalala pickles.

This is so awkward.

So, er, hi. I'm pretty sure I wasn't missed, and I apologize in advance for this fairly random post.

I was actually thinking of shutting this thing down completely. But recently, and again quite randomly, I began receiving compliments on it from friends and strangers alike. So I thought, since I finally have a few minutes to breathe, I could maybe post something and see if I've still got mojo.

I kinda doubt it. You see, when you get sucked up into the world of the International Baccalaureate Diploma (aka IB, I be screwed, Worst Mistake Of My Life.)- you tend to lose track of your entire life. It's like those geniuses from Harvard, Oxford, NASA and places like that. Super brilliant when it comes to their research, but often needs assistance to walk or tie their shoelaces and stuff.

I myself haven't gotten into that phase yet, but I've been told that it's coming. And like a rat caught in the path of a subway train, I can only watch.

Already, there is so much work that I constantly look like I have conjunctivitis, what with the countless hours staring blankly and in despair at the computer screen, tearing up and frantically trying to finish the overload of assignments. It's hell. Satan must be getting quite a kick out of watching us slowly lose our sanity.

And apparently the death of our social lives doesn't apply to the problems. No matter how sucked up into the academic world you are, drama always follows. Like a leech on your sensitives.
I'm speaking out of experience here, and while I'd rather not get into that, I'd just like to make it clear that you can never escape the bastards in your life.

(btw the part about me not wanting to talk about it is all lies. I love talking about it, makes me feel slightly human again. But I'd rather not complicate the delicate balance again by posting such things on public websites. DM me? lol jk.)

Anyway, life's a bitch. And then you die. This is the kind of bleak outlook on life that IB warps you into thinking about.

Aiyo, I meant for this is to be a very short post. But I suppose talking like a normal person and not using big words in every sentence has evoked some strong feelings in me, that were born out of happier memories. Like the times when I'd stay up till 3am doing nothing. NOTHING. What bliss.

Okay, shutting up now. Anyway, I just want to say that I'm glad I'm back. And I've missed you guys terribly!
Oh, and if you could give me some topics for future posts, that would be great! I can't rack my brains anymore, it hurts physically.


PS: Check out this site: and you'll figure out why us IB-ers are usually massive freaks. :D

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Bloggers Block?

I've been getting quite a few requests to update the blog- and I probably should. Can't leave my brainchild sitting around unattended for too long- god knows what will happen. I don't even want to imagine.

Well, as to why I haven't updated in so long...
Whenever someone asked my why, I'd always attribute it to exams, the need to revise, the constant stress, pressure to study, etc. I mean, really, to a normal person this is quite an adequate reason right?

Right. But then I realized that none of that actually matters to me.

I used to be able to write chapters upon chapters of stories or book ideas that would suddenly come to me whenever I least expected it. Whatever I was doing, I'd drop it and scribble on the nearest blank surface. I don't know why that was- but it earned me nicknames like Flashpen and the like.

Or maybe I coined that myself. I choose not to remember the petty details.

But lately- I've noticed that my ability to write has somewhat diminished. No, scratch that, it's virtually gone completely. I mean- take this blog post as an example. I'm writing a post about not being able to write posts. Sad, no?

I miss being able to write! Not only do I really need to regain it in time for my upcoming English exam- *shudders at the very thought*- I want to write again. I want to be able to let my thoughts flow from my brain through my pen and be able to hold a hard copy of what I'm feeling or thinking. That's a special ability, I've been told. Not many people have it... or had it, in my case.

I don't know what made me lose it. Lack of practice? Well, that's partly true since all I've been writing lately are hideously boring essays about hideously boring subjects which I'd rather stick a fork in my eyeball than study about.

Lack of opportunity? Since I'm meant to be cutting down on procrastination, spending more time with my face in a book and not on Facebook, etc.
Balls to that, like I ever care? I used to stay up till the asscrack of dawn writing all sorts of things. The last time I did that was when somebody asked me to do their English coursework for them. I refuse to comment on that.

I think it's actually just a lack of inspiration. I mean- I don't have a single thing to be inspired about anymore. No interaction with anyone other than my parents- well sure, I'm online all the time and all but without much to do or say even there.
Come to think about it- I really don't have any reason to write.

That's catastrophic. Nay, to me, it's apocalyptic. I really need a life. And fast.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Subtle Variations of Blue what my life is like right now. Sometimes it’s like the bright blue of a cloudless summer sky, sometimes it’s so dark it’s almost indistinguishable from black. Sometimes it’s that shitty gray-blue that depresses you just by looking at it. Sometimes it’s a watery, sorry excuse for the colour. But it’s always blue. Blue, blue, just freaking blue.

So that got me thinking- what exactly is it that adds colour to life? Sure, being happy is said to be like all the colours of the rainbow rolled into one big ball of colourful Play-Doh. But what makes the individual colours stand out? How different are the all the shades of each colour? What’s the perfect mix of colours?

Why am I even thinking of philosophical psychobabble like this when I should be studying?

Ah, who cares. I’ll flunk out and become the wise hobo that people would pay money to see. Bullshitting sells these days. *cough*politics*cough*

This is why I think kids are smarter than adults. We know the real value of colours. We know what they denote. We know that crayons have the same effect as cigarettes, minus unfortunate side-effects (except for that one time I ate a purple crayon. Don’t ask.)

If only we could retain that knowledge when we grow up. Instead, it all gets pushed out by other useless stuff, like HTML. I detest HTML. If I had to put it in a colour, I would pick the lightest, most boring looking grey ever.

You get my point. I’ll shut up now. Visions of rainbows and brightly coloured candy is getting to my head, leaving me quite.. exhausted..


Cheer up and dry your damp eyes and tell me when it rains
And I'll blend up that rainbow above you and shoot it through your veins
‘Cause your heart has a lack of color and we should have known
That we'd grow up sooner or later cause we wasted all our free time alone
-Owl City, Rainbow Veins

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Giving you more scope to pwn my soul.

Thanks for the title, Anj. \m/

Wow, I've been ignoring the blog for way too long. =/ shame on me.

Believe me, it was mostly unintentional. I have been submerged in a shitpile of work which, for the love of all that is chocolatey, I cannot even begin to comprehend. Everything just becomes harder, and the pile keeps on growing steadily and quickly with no end in sight, no chance of reprieve or redemption or-

Meh, I'm sick of that metaphor already.

Yeah, I hope you understand my situation. Exams are just a couple of months away, teachers and parents are bretahing down on my neck like vampires (not the shineh homo ones, the actual blood-sucking, mean, historically-accurate ones).

Not to mention the SCHOOL OF DOUCHEBAGGERY that I have been forced to attend, making things THAT much harder by cutting classes to make way for gayshit like Project Week and Sports Day and the almighty stupid Christmas concert and stuff. Plus they dont give us enough time to prepare for ANYTHING, they haven't even bothered to complete our syllabus even though our exams are in less than a few months, then they bitch that it's our fault-

And you wonder why I'm such a complaint box.

Then there's the non-academic bullshite too. Full of bollocks like my laptop breaking, being pressurized to be a certain hundred ways, dealing with not being able to fit in anywhere in this vicious country (hyperbole alert- the place isn't that bad rly. Until you try to make friends.).
Then there's the 'best friends' coming and going, bitches, backstabbers, ditchers, hurtful gossip, oodles of drama, discrimination, domination (wut.) and so on and so forth.

Oh and being dumped and taken for granted and heartbreak and stuffz. Several times this year already.

What a RIDONCULOUS year. Turn it around and fuck it i the ass. wtm.

I'm also going to include issues like world famine, wars, cancer, mosquitoes, the utter fuckery that is Sri Lankan politics, Haiti and stuffz to this list too. Just to retain some semblance of unselfishness to my tangled life.

And recently, I sortof walked into a wall and acquired a GREAT BIG HONKING SCRAPE on my cheek that is steadfastly turning all the colours of the rainbow. I had to wear an equally GREAT BIG HONKING PLASTER on my cheek, which attracted a whole slew of pointing, staring, giggling (-.-) and a sizeable amount of faggotty questions.

(After the first few OMGWHATHAPPENED's, I changed my reply from 'Meh. Don't ask' to a rather complicated and fantastic story about dragons and castles in a mystical land far far away, accessible only thru an old smelly shoe, with piratez and knightz and majik and YAYNUZ.

"I tripped, you mofo. Stop staring at my face before I shove your head up your ass. thanksforyourconcern kthxbye")

And one person in particular (who i will refrain from naming, in case i get carried away writing odes to his assholishness) found my mortification DELIRIOUSLY FUNNY for some inane reason, and laughed at me whenever he remembered my existance.

and one FINE day he laughed UBER LOUD and named me, with malicious glee in his eyes, Scarface.
And did a jig.

While I was insulted at first, I realised that Scarface is actually one awesome badass motherfucker, and I have an uncanny resemblance to him personality-wise.

But mostly because now I can fulfill my true destiny of telling all the luzrs who get in my way to 'say hello to my lil' friend' and violently gunning them down, watching with vicious pride and satisfaction as their blood and brain matter make million-dollar works of art on the walls.


Damn, break is over. Back to my life as the ultimate loser geek princess.