Ninja for a living'd probably make filling forms awkward.

The Obvious: personality tests tell me what i want, and that's not necessarily the best course of action. so if every dratted test i take online to procrastinate an potentially life-changing decision tells me i'm a flowing, free-spirited, flowers in my hair & ants on my toes, pee in the bushes, dance to the blooms of a thousand tulips, hug the chicken don't hurt it's feelings and eat it, Lady Healer of the World's sodding babies, o-so-Piscean, budding writer/artist, that doesn't mean it's meant to be.

After all, those inherently flawed quackery crackery things also go on to gush that religious education & counselling are marvellous career paths for persons of my deposition, and o hello, your roll on the floor laughter of the day is proudly sponsored by letter M, the number 9, and these long-sentences.


fine, the real reason i'm annoyed is it's 10.52am and you know i'd much rather be told i'd be the Warrior of the Warped Universe, Terror of Mondays, Doom-bringer of Ninjas, Ravisher of Shoes, Attacker of Art Friend, Berserk Queen of all Flea Markets, Wanderer of the Whispered Isles, Lady Knight of the distant shores made of pure gold.
You know, awesome, fearsome things. Am i doomed to never be fearsome? GRR!

and me want cookie. OM NOMNOMNOMNOMNOM.

escapist.

i'm desperately sad. not upset, just.. unhappy. the difference is there, tucked in the niche under the 2nd vowel. i don't know quite exactly why, and it's sending my insides into a mad panic trying to figure it out.

i feel like writing a long email about an imaginery day in the lonely life of lady ninjastorm to an address i'd pluck from midair, like john.notso.doe@gmail.com, just because.

or maybe borrow a camera and grab a theatric friend who won't understand or ask why, and go scout out that abandoned mansion in town to make a horribly tragic & gory photo story in.

or just reading, readreadread like its breathing, and ditch my life for 3 days.

i'm restless for something and the signs of this coming were there for a while and i ignored them. pms-y signs, like cursing less like a sailor, more like a pirate.
like jaywalking with traffic that reckless bit closer. like ignoring smses. like loathing beatles music all of a sudden. like a post-it tearing under a too fiercely-held pen.
like being more wary, less glad when someone resurfaces from the past.
like inadviceable things and leaping & not looking when i shouldn't & looking not leaping when i should.

that sounded angry. am i that too? do you even get what the fuck i'm saying? i don't.

hey, look at me, i'm a mess looking for somewhere to puke.

YEE-HAWWW!!

The Adventures of Helicat & Penguin Rat,
coming to a blog near you.
er. Hint, is it?
Nearest to you now. yes, right now. or... maybe a little to the right. yeah there. no, yes - nono, you've overshot now.

a good day is.

.


heavy pooping that makes me feel lighter, sprightlier and cleaner, like the housewife olympics 2008 was held in my tummy, and the Scandinavians won. minimalism, ya know.

my insides are juggling around, adjusting to having more space. heck, i bet my CG is being re-centred, and my shooting finger needs to be recalibrated.
the crawly sensation in my head is my brain scrambling to hold on to ze skull, scooting itself up every couple of seconds, 'cause the pile of entrails it's sitting on keeps wiggling like it's trying to grow into a new pair o' shoes.
i think i jump a foot higher now. and i bet if lungs called out to kidney, eh minah, jiah peng liao, kidney will scream back, ah lian, don't cha holla at me, frickin' echoing down here. be gone dead weight, swooosh.
yeah, it feels real nice.

oh yeah. crap.


oh. LOLZ PUNZZZZZOREXOMETERZ!!!
no, really. gomen nasai?

.

hey hey hey.

you know you know you know, it's like when everything about this person is a caustically-sarcastic, princessy snobbish type that really rubs you the wrong way, and that sometimes tends to say things that make everyone else look kinda bad, and for some reason, just around this person only your mouth is perpetually set to word-vomit; so it's like every other thing you say to said person seems to translate roughly to a "please boot me out, if you're the sorta sensitive sort"; and that's the sort of days i have sometimes, if you were me, and said person was someone above me.