Why do we do these things we do?

It's been awhile...

2010-02-12T14:56:00.000-08:00

...and here I am, awake on a Saturday morning. Still awake, even though reunion lunch's about 5 hours away. But there's just something that I need to get off my chest.

I had a friend who left us awhile ago. Let's call him X. To be honest, I wasn't very close to him at all, but there were times where we'd have small talks, minor stuff. I probably should be calling him an acquaintance, I guess. Nowadays, when I'm out with friends who were close to him, and they talk about him, I see the glistening in their eyes, and the smile on their faces. I see them animate before my eyes, and it's as if they were in a trance. I must admit that there were some things that I found rather undesirable about him (which I will not mention either), but X also possessed some aura of blissful ignorance that appealed to me.

X wasn't a role-model for the younger generation or anything, but I damn well respect him for his loyalty to his friends. It's a bit too late now, but I sure wish I could tell him what a good job I thought he was doing. You know how there's always that diplomat in your group of friends? You know, the one that always manages to pinpoint anyone who's not having fun, and seeks to rectify that? I could be wrong, but from what I know(which is pretty darn little), I do feel that he was that type of friend. The life of the party. The cheese in the sandwich. The healer of the raid. You get the point.

So, at his wake, one of his ex-girlfriends came down to rain down an almighty havoc upon the grieving. Why would she do that? I will never know. But what I do remember was something about her saying that she never loved him.

Mmm, right.

You know, there are some things in life that you just don't do. Like going out with your friend's ex. Or smearing shit on your own face. I would liken what she had done to the latter.

I just cannot stand looking at her being happy on Facebook now. She shouldn't be allowed this privilege (I don't know why I'm still her friend though. Maybe it's just the kaypoh genes I inherited from my mom.) I know that people tell me that she'll get her "just desserts", but there're times where I just feel that them "desserts" aren't being served. I feel that there is an injustice towards my acquaintance, as he had to pass on, knowing that there was a part in his life where he was genuinely happy, and that his partner was not. Not only that, but she still has the cheek to put up pictures of their happier moments on Facebook. Alongside albums of her and her new squeeze. What an attention whore. And let's not get started on another ex-friend of one of my other friends. Long story short, we hung out with him, talked shit about her, he starts hanging out with her, rats us out, lulz ensues.

What am I going to do about all this? Probably nothing. No one's broken any laws, save the ones about friendship and tact. And that's really tearing me up inside now. Probably not as badly as his buddies, but the feeling's probably mutual, to some degree. I really want to go Gordon Freeman on her with a crowbar, but there're real laws in this country, you know. All anyone can do now about her now is to just ignore her(which I fail at), and just remember the happier times they had with X without her around. Helps a lot, this selective memory thing. Oh yeah, and also, for non-believers, you can always hope and pray to whichever pagan god you worship that she gets hit by a car.

X, happy new year man. I seriously hope they have ang pows wherever you're at.

The finer things in life.

2009-10-05T02:22:00.001-07:00

When you see people living it up while you're stuck in your bedroom reading unimportant news stories on the internet, you tend to feel a slight tinge of jealousy. I did, for a split second. That horrible feeling deep in your heart and the many questions that pop up in your head.

But then you sit down and have a cigarette and realize that jealousy only presents itself when you don't bother about the blessings you have. Honestly, if I were any less rational, I would have killed myself right that instant.

Sure, I could go on all day about how much more money they have than me, or how their lives are filled with so many happening parties and stuff, but then again, would I give up the life I have for the life of a cock-gobbling pretentious prick? Probably not. Why? Because I know how much I treasure the things in my life.

It's this rationality that I have that always stops me from whining about how shitty my life is, and man up. Anything shitty in life that happened to me was probably the result of some really shit choices that I made. Sure, some people may be a bit better off than me, but I learn to look at them and laugh. Because none of them will have the awesome life that I lead, or the awesome parents that I have, or the awesome friends who're almost family to me, or the awesome girlfriend that I have all to myself, or my awesome DotA skills. True that.

Gee.

2009-04-29T15:02:00.001-07:00

Been a month since my last blog post. Amazing how 4 months can just fly by so quickly.

Honestly, I still can't bring myself to blog consistently. I would like to think that my posts are like dishes in a swanky French restaurant. You know, like small and bite sized and full of goodness, but I don't think it works that way.

Not that my life is unventful, mind you. Been spending my time in school and playing Warhammer and stuffing my face together with my personal face-stuffer(who is getting a bit chubby round the edges) and spending money on useless stuff like cigarettes and Transformers.

So you see, it's not that I'm not trying to make my life more colorful. It's just that I don't feel the need to share my happiness with the world. Or something like that. Or maybe it's just like me to blog in little bursts to let off some steam once in a while. With, "a while", referring to somewhere around 3-4 months.

I might blog again soon. Even if I know deep down inside that no one is going to read this. Oh, the irony.

Life is like a box of... Never mind.

2008-12-18T13:39:00.000-08:00

This week has been pretty damn good.

Sunday was chicken and ribs. Which led to a mild bout of indigestion.

Monday was rosti and a curry pork katsu destroyer at City Hall. Which was pretty uncalled for, because...

...Tuesday was Kuishin Bo. Where we were all pretty happy.

Wednesday was dinner at this crap-looking seafood place at Changi Village. Which in the end, was pretty damn good. Well, it had better be, for a 60 dollar meal for 2 people.

Thursday was okay. Not too exciting, but Subway can be an indulgence, can't it?

And I realize that not all lazy, face-stuffing and rude girls look like Roseanne Barr. There're some pretty hot ones too, you know. For the time being, that is. Heh heh heh.

Zombie killing!

2008-12-02T03:14:00.000-08:00

Been playing Left 4 Dead for the past few days. It's oh-so-wonderful. Nothing like zombies to brighten up my day. But...

...why are the zombies such good runners? I am not liking fast zombies. Gives you more of a shock than a scare. But oh well, at least I have my trusty shotgun to depend on! BOOM HEADSHOT!

...why are Tanks, especially, so fast? I am about a quarter the size of a tank, and my speed is nowhere near his charge speed. Why so imba, Valve? Why?

...why are Chichi and Bobo always present in every game with AI NPCs that I play? WHY CHICHI AND BOBO WHY?

...why are Witches so adorable? Thin and sharp claws aside, that is. Hurts me deep inside when I shoot them. Unless when it's in the context of gaining achievements. Heh.

...why are some of the AIs so clever? Why can Smokers pull me 'round corners out of sight of my teammates, while I get strangled to death? Why why why?

...why do I bitch so much but still love this game so much?

I hope Shane forgets that I owe him money for the game, so I can save the cash for Left 5 Dead.

On an ending note,

Kat: Mum, can I have my allowance this month?

Mum: Why holiday you still need allowance?

Kat: Comics to buy, food to eat, girls to go out with, people to kill...

Mum: WHAT?

Kat: Hurhur just give me my allowance please I am in dire need of cash.

Mum: Ok.

LEGENDARY I TELL YOU!

How?

2008-11-25T02:53:00.000-08:00

How do people come up with things to blog about so regularly? I can never find it in myself to blog every day. I suppose it has something to do with the lack of excitement in my life. You see,

Going out (not exciting)
Cycling (not exciting)
D&D (not exciting)
Call of Duty (not exciting)
Sleeping (DEFINITELY not exciting)

Well, of course, this is in relation to the mindset of a normal person.

Therefore, with my exams almost over, I've decided that I will make the effort to do more exciting things. Such as,

Going out, with pictures detailing my every action (exciting!)
Cycling, with plenty of scenic photos of my cycling spots (quite exciting)
D&D, with a photo blog of the entire D&D session (boring for you, but exciting for me!)
Call of Duty, with whatever random photos of it I can come up with (not too exciting, but exciting nonetheless)
Sleeping, with pictures of... I dunno? (will work on this, but I guarantee it will be exciting)

Hah! There you have it. I just need to photo-document all my movements and actions, and EXCITEMENTS GALORE!

On a side note, the next person to tell me I am not a genius gets a tight slap. Women not included, because I am a gentleman.

Help me, help you.

2008-11-14T20:25:00.000-08:00

I guess it's too late for this, but I realize that I've been living my life wrongly.

It started with the cigarettes, with bits of bad karma strewn here and there. And of course there's the unmentionable evils that I've committed. I really need to find a way to reset my karma meter and not go to hell. And after reading American Virgin, I realize that, "Save Yourself to Save Yourself" is a really good mantra to live by. Adam Chamberlain, I wish I'd known you sooner.

At least it'll be a start when I start bringing Christian to church. Mum and Dad are INSANELY happy that their rebel son even mentioned going to church. Let's just say that if Momo was candidate for "Evangelist of the Year", Mum and Dad would spend at least 3/4 of the monthly household income to call in and vote for her. But in all honesty, I am really looking forward to going back to church.

And of course, there's the element of self-restraint, which I STILL do not have. Yes I checked yesterday, and it's still on holiday. Need to practice it more. Self-restraint=no more unneeded aggressiveness=a calmer, more peaceful me. Yes, this really needs work, I know.

Oh, and on a closing note, you guys REALLY need to listen to the new Diru album. I mean, it'll probably blow your brains out la, but still...

Oh shit.

2008-11-07T02:41:00.000-08:00

Exams are in about 2 weeks, and I am officially in panic mode. Doesn't seem like it eh?

The days have been pretty damn boring. Save for people who really pique my interest with their personalities. Not in a good way, though. But other than that, yeah, everything has been like watching a toilet bowl flush itself over and over again.

Oh well. I can always hope for the days to return to the status quo.

And by the way, it's called a sardonic laugh, not a "cheebye" laugh, you retard.

BORING LA!

If...

2008-10-27T02:33:00.000-07:00

...I had something better to do, I wouldn't be typing this out.

...I had a gun. I wouldn't kill anyone I hate. True story.

...I start a band, it's name would be SRRSC.

...you haven't listened to Mickey Avalon yet, you should.

...you find the need to tell be about your girl problems, I feed bad for you son. And you know the rest.

...your dick looks like 2 fries, my dick is super-sized.

...you think I'm damn lazy and useless, you're probably right.

...I have projects due, I should be working on them and not blogging.

...you let me pass this semester, God, I promise I will be a good boy next year.

...you can laugh when you talk to me about how you're only with your boyfriend because he's nice, and that you will ditch him after you've had your fun, I can only hope that you die in a car crash. This is why I wouldn't shoot anyone I hate. Hope is a very powerful thing.

...you think that I am very nasty by hoping that someone will die in a car crash, I'd like you to know my original wish was for the person to survive the car crash and live the rest of her life as a vegetable.

...you think that I can be pushed around, you're half right.

An update on my terribly boring life.

2008-10-23T21:55:00.000-07:00

Been awfully busy these few days. So much work to do, but so terribly lazy to start on it.

I skipped my English test today. Which means that on all the other tests, I have to score at least 60% to pass the entire module. Does not look like a very big hurdle to me. But I still pray. Very hard.

Speaking of praying, I suppose if Momo makes me the godparent of her kid, I really should start going to church again. I reminisce of the times where I feigned death to get out of going to church.
Good times.

Cryptic Message of the Day: This time, I'm playing it safe.

A short history. Part II of II (Well, it's not exactly short, but it's the best I can do)

2008-10-18T03:34:00.000-07:00

So, from where we left off, Trogdor sat in the cage, being wheeled out through the front gates of the city towards where Penistus set up camp. Despair set in. He was so angry and sad and tired and... Trogdor took a little nap.

This paragraph is where shit happens. There.

Trogdor woke up with a jolt. It felt like a broken leg. Oh, and he'd read about tuberculosis before. Apparently you cough a lot of blood. Treatment would be expensive. Strange, though, as he was lying in a pool of what looked like his own blood. Well, he really didn't suppose it could be the blood of anyone else. He felt rather tired. Good old lazy Trogdor he thought to himself. He marveled at his ability to feel sleepy after waking up from a good nap. Trogdor grinned to himself, and took another long nap.

The most esteemed Prelate Bushi was on one of his morning walks when he saw the young dragonborn lying on the ground. He cursed in what seemed to be Abyssal, and walked over to the seemingly dead body. A few kicks later, the creature stirred, and coughed up a bit of blood.

"What... What fuck?", asked the esteemed one. Trogdor groaned, "Tuberculosis... Broken bones... Dying..." The Prelate responded by kicking the bloodied one in the ribs. Trogdor mustered up his last bit of energy and flipped him the bird, before kissing the ground for the third time in 3 hours(I have heard of rogues who shatter that record without breaking a sweat, though). Bushi decided that he would take this feisty young one in, and feed him, and watch him grow. Don't ask why, but such is the character of The Most Esteemed Prelate Bushi Ren. This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Thus ends the history of the dragonborn, to be continued in future stories about his training under the Prelate.

On a side note, the one and only language Bushi speaks in Common. The only thing abyssal about his language is his grammar and vocabulary.

By the way, take a gander at this.

Two terribly interesting poems.

User: AATD

Violet

Violet wants to play a game.

A game where we can all have fun

She strips out of her clothes and ties me up

And whips me into submission

Submission.

Cold cruel submission

I enjoy submission,

Do you?

I play along with Violet

We delight in the flow of our blood

The pain is excruciating

How fun.

The pain brings pleasure,

Pleasure beyond words.

Pleasure which is brought by open wounds,

Wounds of a masochist

She, the sadist

I, the masochist

We coexist in this romp

We need each other

She hurts me

I feel wonderful

I receive punishment from her,

I'm sure she loves it too

The chains and the toys,

Glittering prizes in our eyes.

We play with them like school children

Hurting each other with them

Our tears and wounds bring joy,

Not pain.

But the laughter brings pain,

Not humor

Once again the game is ended,

To continue another day

But next time I'll get Violet, I swear

For the castration she gave me today.

Indeed a very disturbed child this one is. But, let's take a look at the next one

User: Mazohyst

Disinfectant

The old man,

lying in his hospital bed,

Waiting for death to carry him away.

The smell of the disinfectant,

piercing the senses

of the waiting relatives.

Waiting for the moment,

waiting for death to carry him away.

Do you regret now?

What you should have said,

but have not done?

What you should have done,

but have not done?

What awaits you?

The gaping black abyss of the unknown,

the place we all go...

When your mother died,

you wondered what she felt...

now you feel it yourself...

Is it nice?

The moment approaches.

You see it on the faces of your family.

They stand around the bed...

Looking at you,

you, with those tubes sticking out your body.

The young ones,

watching in fascination

as the heart monitor beats...

Even now, you feel the strain

it takes to keep it beating

waiting for that final moment,

Waiting for death to carry you away.

There... you hear it now

The call to leave.

Your family stands, helpless

begging you to stay.

You can't hear it anymore

Your mind, your consciousness, your soul,

drifting away into nothing

The droning beep...

heralding your departure

heralding the moment,

that death took you away.

Definitely more... readable than the previous one.

Sometimes I wish I could write poems. To sell and make lots of money. HA HA HA!

DINNER TIME!

An intermission.

2008-10-16T21:48:00.000-07:00

You should always think with your balls, and love with your heart.

That's what me old man used to tell me.

Sorry, I lied.

Heh heh.

A short history. Part I of II

2008-10-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

The one known as Trogdor was born 20 years ago, in a dark damp cave in the jungles of Sccor. No one knew where he had come from. Not even the kindly humans that took him in as their very own child. To raise and love as if he were one of their own... At least that what the most of the story is.

I would think the first thing a normal human would do after chancing upon a little scaly freak would be to gasp in horror, and then think about the probabilities of selling him off to a freak show for a nice big bag of gold. Fortunately for the Trogster, Benjamin and Alicia Dragfud were 2 very un-normal humans. Un-normal enough to resist the call of wealth even when they were poor as church mice. Or temple mice, if you please.

They christened him Trogdor. After the title of a terribly peculiar song about a dragon. Or maybe it was about a man. Or maybe a dragon-man. My memory fails me.

The next 15 years of Trogdor's life was lived as a human. He learned to read and write like a human. He learned to hunt like a human( if that's at all possible, with his dragonborn claws and whatnot ).

On his 16th birthday, Trogdor effectively set fire to half his cottage as he blew out the candles of his cake, which was now probably as tasty as a lump of coal. Lightning infused dragon breath is truly a wonderful thing.

Not all was lost, as crowds of the town flocked to see Trogdor and his new act. People there had heard of fire-breathing creatures, but certainly not lighting-breathing ones! The amount of gold they made after a few months was enough to repair the cottage and put another few stories on it. With more than enough left to finally get a mailbox.

The family was rich now. But we all know what happens in stories when people get rich. Shit happens. Benjamin squandered almost half of their savings on buying rounds of drinks for the tavern and the company of women. Alicia spent the other almost half on shopping and "exotic massages". Whatever happened to the nightly family dinners where they would sit around the table with a missing leg? Whatever happened to the weekend hunting trips into the forest? Whatever happened to his family? This made Trogdor a very sad dragonborn.

Then, everything went downhill. Trogdor sort of still blames the cursed mailbox.

The famous Penistus' Slave Circus came to town. Made up of slaves from all over the continent, the circus was popular because it was, you know, cheap. Being made up of slaves and all that.

The Great Penistus had heard of Trogdor. He had just lost his best fire-breather. He had a terrible cough, and died in his own bed. Not as simple as it sounds, but you do the math.

A thousand gold pieces was the offer. A thousand gold pieces could buy rounds of drinks at the tavern for a few months. A thousand gold pieces could buy that exquisite lizardman handbag in that little shop next to the weaponsmith. A thousand gold pieces that Benjamin and Alicia Dragfud were ready to accept.

The very next morning, Trogdor woke up in a cage. A good, sturdy wooden cage.

Remember when I said that everything was going downhill just now? I lied. This is where shit really hits the fan( for the Dragfuds, at least).

(To be continued in Part II of II)

My Second First Time.

2008-10-14T03:58:00.000-07:00

My name is Kat and this is the second first time I am starting a blog.

Why?

Well, just to join in the fun, I suppose.

I'm apparently 21 this year, but people who roll with me know that I'm really about 40. I enjoy almost everything my ex-girlfriend hated doing, such as being lazy and playing a lot of games.

On this blog, you will learn to appreciate everything that goes on in my mind. Ever wondered what those blank looks on my face were all about? You'll eventually get the answer here.

There will be no song lyrics. There will be no YouTube video links. There will be ZERO use of Photoshop. There will be an abundance of MSPaint. There will be irritating background music that you will hate, I promise you that. At least when I get around to it. Which will take awhile. Just like the next post. But I will try. Okay I might post a video link or two. But no song lyrics. I promise. Okay? Right, maybe one. Or two. Or a lot. I really like music, you know?

Just to let you guys know, after writing the previous line, I spent 5 minutes thinking if there was anything angst-ridden or angry I would like to rant about, but I really could not find anything in my black, black heart to say.

I guess that's it for now.

My name is Kat, and I love all of you. Really.