Heart Beat, Pig Meat

November 4, 2008 at 8:02 pm | Posted in Randomosities + Rubbish | Leave a comment
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While I was staring out the window today, eating chips and singing the solo to Highway Star (yes, I sing guitar solos) it suddenly came back to me. My rose tinted glasses. Where had they been all these days?

I hate my brain. You’re an idiot, I tell it. Why do you always have to imagine the worst? Why do you have to practical at all the wrong times, and most impractical when I need you the most? Why do you have to zoom off into crazy mode when I enter a bookshop? And why, why, do you always have to be on fire with imagination and fancy?

Hmph. I am not going to listen to you anymore.

Ahem, anyway, now that I’ve found my precious glasses – two of them, actually, the rose tinted ones, and my actual ones, which I’d lost for the millionth time and couldn’t find for weeks afterwards – as I say, I find everything easier. Lolcats seems much more funnier. Chips more tastier. Even the sound of ‘Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your girlfriend’ blaring through an idiotic classmate’s audio player less irritating. Okay, I take thatr back.

Now, this is going to sound stupid, but I want to say:

I love thinking.

(Don’t blame me, I gave the Stupidity Alert already.) As in conscious thinking…deliberate, contemplative. Thinking is my favourite pastime. You know what, I don’t think it really sounds that stupid – not when you realise the fact that very few people actually think these days. No, I am not getting started on that again. I’ve already written a critical essay on the mediocrity of society, haven’t I?

Am I really the biggest egomaniac that ever existed or what? Who am I to judge the mediocroty of the society? Pah, I hate it when I people assume to egoitical. I am anything, a hundred adjectives before egoistical. I mean, do I talk myself for hours on end? Of course I don’t. Do I refuse to share my candy? Of course I don’t. Do I think I’m always right? Of course not…er…okay, only 99 per cent of time.

Which is why it puzzles me when a certain lass in my class should go about telling folks that I have an ‘attitude’ problem. I expect Sonia imagines it will earn her a name in The Dumbest Gossipers That Ever Lived (who knows, I may pen this sometime in the future). But alas, the competition is too strong. All of them talk about me behind my back, something which I find highly amsuing. All of them, of course, are har-brained, cakefaced, superficial specimens, who could do with some brains and a life.

It’s been like this since primary school days, so I don’t really mind it. I hate gossip, I can’t imagine how anyone can find it entertaining in the least. It makes me sick to my stomach. But it follows me everywhere. Sigh. Well, perhaps that is what you get for sticking out from the crowd. That’s why  trust guys more than girls. I don’t feel the need to measure up to them, or judged by them.

On a positive note, Ritchie Blackmore is pure genius.


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