To a lifetime of you.

I was reading through all my blog entries back in my Multiply site (I revived it because Facebook upload SUCKS ASS) and I have come to a conclusion: I am my favorite writer. Not that I'm a great read or I'm as awesome as those published prolific writers out there but I find myself interesting. How conceited hahaha

But I don't know, I found myself reading through hundreds of pages of my ranting and if I didn't need to stop to breathe a little, I wouldn't have. Or maybe the idea of reminiscing is attractive? The year IS ending in just a few days.


I wrote about everything.
I was able to write about everything, even the meaningless things. I guess I'm really that talkative that I can stretch stupid things into longer, not necessarily more meaningful paragraphs. That's a good thing academically, I guess? I won't ever have to feel threatened by long minimum page limitations.


I'm such a nerd.




I ran into this wishlist I had back in 2008: The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards and Everyman by Philip Roth. I still haven't read both and it's never too late for a Christmas present! I don't mind either borrowing or having my own copy, I just want to read (:

I forgot how I found out about these books but now that I'm reminded about them, I want to read them. I still haven't started reading A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami but you can never have too much books to read.


I also read the entries I wrote when I was quarantined the second time.
I never really said it then but I think I really was infected by Swine Flu haha I was really sick then and my parents were extra cautious. Lysol was the everyday scent of my room and I was practically training myself for a water cure -- you know, that old torture thing.

My parents are usually terrified people.
They try to shy my eyes away from the needle when I take blood tests, distract me when I get my bones.. fixed, and never tell me these serious things. I think they think I scare easily.


Well, yes sort of.
But I think I know how to drown it out sometimes (except the horror movies or those shock sites). Or sometimes I find it interesting, maybe?

When my pinky got dislocated back in highschool (crazy dislocation that was, one flick and my bone could've just snapped off), I was brought to the hospital after a few days. We had speculations that it was just a really bad sprain.
So anyway, the doctor that attended to me was really nice. He talked to me about football, asked me about my favorite team and players, and asked me why my favorite player was a midfielder when I was a keeper. I knew he was doing what my parents were -- distracting me.

But I was really interested in how he was going to fix my pinky.
He put in the anesthesia and after a few minutes, started to check if I still felt anything. When I told him I didn't feel anything there anymore, he just pulled it back in.

I was hoping for something a bit more dramatic. Probably no blood but maybe a cracking sound or something haha

But yes.
Okay, I have lost my trail of thought.