it's louder once it's written.: More about me than you'd care to know.

I'm very fussy about what grammar that i know is true and will only knowingly, with much consideration and angsty inner-debate, break grammar rules. But i'm rather rubbish at spelling.

I'm extremely chilled out about things starting on time, a memory-rich, treasured necklace that went missing for months, because i know that they'd happen as they should, and it'll always come back to me. But if i can't declare the exact status of a friendship or relationship important to me to my liking, i can be so uneasy that i subconsciously take extreme measures to test the bonds, create subtly-challenging ultimatums that they won't ever know they failed and distance so that i can see if they are necessary to me. i may judge them hastily and short-change them of development and nuance. Post-mortem reflection is how i know i even did it to begin with.

I can't kiss in front of tudong-wearing women. But... heh, er, well. hmm, you know. o hai! this cover band jive talkin' is really great.

IF a book truly intrigues me, i'd avoid all googling, refuse to read the foreword (which i usually dissect), sypnosis, reviews, author bio, credits page or extract. Even glancing at the author's mugshot OR taking a closer look at the cover art is forbidden, for fear of any delicious spoilers. After the eplilogue i'd google the shit out of it and moan moan moan that Borders won't stock the sequels fast enough, what is Mr Author doing besting scores in Dragons and Dungeons instead of writing and how silly his editor must be. i've been known to sprout obscure facts about obscure things that no one cares about, only because an author i used to admire once mentioned it in an interview she did in 1995 that someone did a crappy scan in of. Er, usually say i read it in a magazine. usually, Time. Now you know otherwise.
the bare bones histories of my favourite bands, i don't know. I like their music, and sometimes the titles of the songs i like and that's enough.

I've hacked into my thumb so badly it obviously needed stitches and only put a band-aid on it. the pain and 1.5 hands i lived with for months and didn't care that it's scared much worse than it should have. Shopping makes me comparatively super vain.

I've got hundreds upon hundreds of pet peeves piled up, stoning off into the sunset and gathering dust on their staring eyeballs because they are the ones that haven't been voiced. if you knew just 11 of them it will badly incapitate your ability to be natural around me, that's how varigated and detailed they are. too-fussy people is one of my pet peeves.

i jaywalk even more slowly if the bugger in the car screws up my calculated distance-time estimation of his vehicle by intentionally speeding up or failing to signal (when i'm alone and only risking my own life). you know how people measure fabric once and cut twice? i measure 4 or 5 times and arrange the pattern pieces and trim closely because, shruck mahhn, don't want to waste fabric! that 1cm by 6cm piece could have been better utilised!

Final proof that i am rather schizophrenic and overly ambivalent: taking a personality quiz that returns not one, not a coincidental two, not even fluke-possible three, but five results, because