multimedia meltdown part x

I am blogging only because MSN has hung on me, not that I would really like to be there, being hounded by questions thrown at me from about 73 windows (I exaggerate, but it could be 73...) that my fingers are going into seizure while I frantically click and keep on my happy face. Being zen was never my thing. I am more inclined to the direction where one throws things around and refuses to speak to anyone for several days.

(An update: MSN is still hung.)

So, I scanned through a two-hour movie in one hour, attributing this show of spontaneous last-minute-hardworking-ism to my inability to show up for class, even if it was a film screening and I didn't actually have to take notes. Fast-forward is the most ingenius function after delete. But, I have learnt my lazy lesson. Of course, I say this now, but next week who knows? I think it may be a good idea to show up for class this year, to make up for all the pontang-ing I have not-so-surreptitiously done in the history of my academic existence (which is, incidentally, a splotch of blur inactivity in the timeline of my short life).

How long can I pretend to know what is going on? Soon, I will be found out. Strangers will point at me in the corridors and walkways and stairwells and busstops and elevators and cafes and bookshops and toilets and say, "That's the girl who tried to fool us all. But, alas, we found out she didn't really know anythingl."

Is anyone willing to sell me a stroke of incredible indisputable genius that I may utilise for three years? If you are reluctant to sell, just rent it out. Video-ezy is all the rage, really. Rental is the new black.

(Update: I have force quit MSN.)

allaroundbackgroundosund: Everyone Knows Everyone - The Helio Sequence; Crown of Love - The Arcade Fire

multimedia meltdown part x

I am blogging only because MSN has hung on me, not that I would really like to be there, being hounded by questions thrown at me from about 73 windows (I exaggerate, but it could be 73...) that my fingers are going into seizure while I frantically click and keep on my happy face. Being zen was never my thing. I am more inclined to the direction where one throws things around and refuses to speak to anyone for several days.

(An update: MSN is still hung.)

So, I scanned through a two-hour movie in one hour, attributing this show of spontaneous last-minute-hardworking-ism to my inability to show up for class, even if it was a film screening and I didn't actually have to take notes. Fast-forward is the most ingenius function after delete. But, I have learnt my lazy lesson. Of course, I say this now, but next week who knows? I think it may be a good idea to show up for class this year, to make up for all the pontang-ing I have not-so-surreptitiously done in the history of my academic existence (which is, incidentally, a splotch of blur inactivity in the timeline of my short life).

How long can I pretend to know what is going on? Soon, I will be found out. Strangers will point at me in the corridors and walkways and stairwells and busstops and elevators and cafes and bookshops and toilets and say, "That's the girl who tried to fool us all. But, alas, we found out she didn't really know anythingl."

Is anyone willing to sell me a stroke of incredible indisputable genius that I may utilise for three years? If you are reluctant to sell, just rent it out. Video-ezy is all the rage, really. Rental is the new black.

(Update: I have force quit MSN.)

allaroundbackgroundosund: Everyone Knows Everyone - The Helio Sequence; Crown of Love - The Arcade Fire

my anonymous stalkers

I look really short.

It was brief fun.

I finally got my (dad's) ass round to developing this.

Apparently, you feel double the writer's block intensity when you start having two blogs, either out of a sense of over-achieving brilliance or sheer self-torture.

I have been neglecting you, blogspot. I deserve the harshest punishment in the cyber realm, bar identity theft and spam mail, which, by the not-quite-milky way, is driving me close to online death and cardiac arrests. For all the mail titled "Your girlfriend will not be happy with you" or "Improve your performance" in reference to my non-existent male genitalia, I am temporarily lost in a hypnosis session telling me I'm a hermaphrodite, maybe, perhaps.

I have no girlfriend, and I am not interested in making my girlfriend feel better by having my private reproductive organ ("penis", you may call it) enlarged. Blasphemy! No! Stay away from my genital region, and my inbox.

[allaroundbackgroundsound: When You and I Were Young - The Clientele; Yesterday Threw Everything At Me - Athlete]