So, tf?

Okay, I'll concede I did wrong by not first asking you for permission to haul other people into it.

But knowing your propensity for making plans that begin with a perfectly good premise and end with "Nah, can't be bothered" or a similar, conclusive phrase, I felt as if it would be okay for me to ask others to be involved.  More people = less work.  Not once did you directly mention to me, "Linh, I don't want this to be a project where you bring in other people."  Not once did you raise the issue with me, choosing instead to simply ignore the other people involved.

Then you go tell me I have no right to do this.  Fine.  Not once did you actually outright tell me any of this, choosing to instead complain about it now when it's a tad late to call everyone and cancel.  But that's okay, I'll just tell Shane and that that we're all out.  And so now out of spite or whatever, you're out too.  Christ almighty.

I had no right to try to get a project you wanted done, done?  I had no right to try to make the last week for my friends and yours great?  I had no right to maybe put you in a position where you can become friends with my friends, instead of you just telling me they're "not your type of people"?  Christ almighty, Ben, I've seen you with my group maybe 5 times in the entire time we've known them, and that's a generous estimate.  How the heck do you know they're not your type of people?

And then you come out of the blue, guns blazing, telling me I'd won and you hope you'll never see me again.  Won what, precisely?  A competition I had no idea was happening?  An argument where I'd already conceded wrong and backed out?

Mad, you are.  And I'm beginning to think I'm a little mad myself for attempting to make things actually easy for you to integrate you into my circle, for telling Kimmy and Tash to cut you slack.  Not that you ever cut them any.  Not that you made any discernible effort to actually be friends with my friends.

Here, for you.

Insane, Damien Rice

Should I speak?
Should I bother shaking hands?
Am I weak If I leave it as it stands?
I've submerged
And I've surfaced with the blame
I guess I'm no good, I guess I'm insane

Should I go, if she calls out my name?
And if she bleeds, should I wipe up the stain?
And if I'm low, can I drown in this rain?
I guess I'm no good, I guess I'm insane

And I hate when you say
That I never fight for you
Sometimes you breathe
All over my scar
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's where I give in

Should I confess
The actions of a hand
In my mind
I'll betray you once again
Why should I climb?
What is there to gain?
This is no good
This is insane

And I hate when you say
That I never fight for you
Sometimes you breathe
All over my scar
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's whenre I give in

You're taking, you're taking
You're taking me down
You're taking, you're taking
You're taking me down
And you always end up
Closer than close
That's where I give in

I've been playing this the way you wanted pretty much entirely.  You wanted to be there, I let you be there.  You wanted me wherever, I let you be wherever.  You wanted to come over, I coerced my parents to allow it to happen.  I put more on the line for you than you realise, risking my friendships, severing friendships, pushing the envelope with my family, to allow you to be in as close a proximity to me as was possible for you to be comfortable.  And apparently, that's still not enough.

You want me gone?  Fine.  I'm gone.

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Trials

Of hell, maybe.

Monday wasn't too bad, I managed to get pretty much all the math equations (er, except that weird integration multi-choice one).

Yesterday, I walked out of English because of severe nausea (probably brought on by my own non-eating idiocy).  Physics wasn't completely horrid, but I think there were a number of questions I missed.

Then we get to today.  Chem was... in a word, horrible.  I walked in there, and everything flew out of my head.  What byproducts of ammonia production?  The equation is just N_2(g) + 3H_2(g) → 2NH_3(g).  There are no byproducts.  For the production of H2, yeah, but that's different.  ::sigh::

I did find this absolutely hilarious, though.  I think I play too many RPGs :\

I'm kind of woozy.  I'd sleep, but eh, I don't want to miss Brian, and there's no-one who can wake me.  I think Van's moved out, though, given how there's a lot of her stuff still here, she's probably nowhere near done.  I've heard nothing from Dad about throwing her out, so, I don't know.  Whatever, I can't afford to emotionally invest in their business as well as my own.

My butterfly earrings arrived this morning.  :)  Here's a photo of them, off the eBay listing (I cropped it.  I can't stand excess whitespace):

Pretty, eh?  :)  Tanzanite and 18k white-gold plating.  And all for $12.99, plus free shipping, too.

Online shopping is great.  I've bought birthday presents for Bina, and Christmas presents (yes, already) for Bina, Kimmy, and Tash.  I already have a birthday present for Ben, but I still need to get him something for Christmas.  Am still working on something for Brian.  Love, what do you want for Christmas?

I might get me some more cháo.  I'm really hungry, all of a sudden, and I think if I don't eat, Brian just might yell.  :P  Tschau.

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I has a dilemma.

I'm very, very tired.

However, Schindler's List is on Classics +2.

Bed, or TV?

Bed in a little while, I think.  My throat hurts horridly.

Also, an article you may find interesting.  I believe I've discussed the issue of "My abortion is the only moral abortion" before, but if I have not, someone drop me a line and I'll cover it next time.  I should have a little free time, now that I've done my final SACs for all but two subjects (Chemistry [Electrolysis] and Physics [Sound]).

Trial exams are on next week, but blah.  It's really only the English exam I worry about.  And to a degree, Math and Physics.  Chem is easy at the moment.

Does anyone know the name of that song the band is playing, when Schindler first enters the dining room (?)?  It's also in True Lies, played in the tango Arnie had with that evil conniving woman, and also with his missus at the end.

Dad's home with steak.  But I'm not eating.  I'll stay up to watch a little more of Schindler's List, but I'll head to bed in about half an hour.  Ffs, if I'd known this was on before, I'd have watched it then.  (Bri:  The +2 channels play what's on the regular channel, but 2 hours later.)

Tomorrow, I believe Taranto will be flogging us to produce some quality language analysis essays, so I should probably crunch down on that.  No more assignments, possibly ever, so yay!  No more compulsory weekend math!

Goodnight.

Posted via web from youretrulypre.posterous

Today's word of the day

Is "abecedarian".

Found myself a new blog I enjoy reading, that's yet to be blocked.  Hurrah!

Some good posts:

A new pastor was visiting in the homes of his parishioners. At one house it seemed obvious that someone was at home, but no answer came to his repeated knocks at the door.

Therefore, he took out a business card and wrote 'Revelation 3:20' on the back of it and stuck it in the door.

When the offering was processed the following Sunday, he found that his card had been returned. Added to it was this cryptic message, 'Genesis 3:10..'

Reaching for his Bible to check out the citation, he broke up in gales of laughter. Revelation 3:20 begins 'Behold, I stand at the door and knock.' Genesis 3:10 reads, 'I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid for I was naked.'

An old Italian lived alone in New Jersey . He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard.

His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison.  The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:

Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty sad, because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days.
Love,
Papa

A few days later he received a letter from his son::

Dear Pop,
Don't dig up that garden.
That's where the bodies are buried.
Love,
Vinnie

At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.

That same day the old man received another letter from his son::

Dear Pop,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now.
That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
I love you,
Vinnie

Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and says to the first man he meets, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'

The man said, 'I do, Father.'

The priest said, 'Then stand over there against the wall.'

Then the priest asked the second man, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'

'Certainly, Father,' was the man's reply.

'Then stand over there against the wall,' said the priest.

Then Father Murphy walked up to O'Toole and said, 'Do you want to go to heaven?'

O'Toole said, 'No, I don't Father.'

The priest said, 'I don't believe this.  You mean to tell me that when you die you don't want to go to heaven?'

O'Toole said, 'Oh, when I die, yes.  I thought you were getting a group together to go right now.'

And one that seemed pertinent to yesterday's language analysis on that sportsmanship article:

At one point during a game, the coach called one of his 7-year-old baseball players aside and asked, "Do you understand what cooperation is?   What a team is?"

The little boy nodded in the affirmative.

"Do you understand that what matters is whether we win or lose together as a team?"

The little boy nodded yes.

"So," the coach continued, "I'm sure you also know, when a call is made, you shouldn't argue, curse or attack the umpire.  Do you understand all that?"

Again the little boy nodded.

He continued, "And when I take you out of the game so another boy gets a chance to play, it's not good sportsmanship to call your coach 'an idiot' is it?''

Again the little boy nodded.

"Good," said the coach. "Now go over there and explain all that to your mother."

A priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut .   The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.

He says, 'Sir, have you been drinking?'

'Just water,' says the priest.

The trooper says, 'Then why do I smell wine?'

The priest looks at the bottle and says, 'Good Lord! He's done it again!'

The children were lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray:
"Take only ONE. God is watching."
Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies.
A child had written a note, "Take all you want. God is watching the apples.

Christ, children are fucking precious.

Brian:  This seems vaguely relevant to yesterday's conversation, re: prestigious schools.  Though this seems to apply more specifically to tertiary education.

Big dreams and little ambition
I left for college with the classic mission
To find a man and make lots of money
When I look back now it seems kind of funny

Thousands of dollars in the hole
And I still haven’t answered "what's my role"
No higher reason, my low grades fester
And I register for yet another semester

I'm paying the way for soulless teachers
Who pave the way for under achievers
Students who write essays straight from the book
If there is higher thinking they're too lazy to look

We’re creating a generation of
Illiterates beyond our reaches
And they grow up to be
Non-competitive leeches

They have big dreams and little ambition
They go to college with the classic mission
To find a mate and make lots of money
Someday they'll look back and it won't seem so funny

- Cary Rogers

Ah, a classic, but I love it nevertheless:

A cab driver reaches the Pearly Gates and announces his presence to St. Peter, who looks him up in his Big Book. Upon reading the entry for the cabbie, St. Peter invites him to pick up a silk robe and a golden staff and to proceed into Heaven.

A preacher is next in line behind the cabbie and has been watching these proceedings with interest. He announces himself to St. Peter. Upon scanning the preacher's entry in the Big Book, St. Peter furrows his brow and says, "Okay, we'll let you in, but take that cloth robe and wooden staff."

The preacher is astonished and replies, "But I am a man of the cloth. You gave that cab driver a gold staff and a silk robe. Surely I rate higher than a cabbie."

St. Peter responded matter-of-factly: "This is heaven and up here, we are interested in results. When you preached, people slept. When the cabbie drove his taxi, people prayed."

Ben and Bri, you'd both be able to appreciate this one:

Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am.  They continue to pick me up and handle me, an obvious attempt to subvert me.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight.  I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event.  However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released -- and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

Tonight I will again lay on their heads while they sleep and hope to smother them.

(As you may have noticed, these are not copied verbatim.  Grammatical and spelling errors vex my anal-retentive side so.)

Anyway, no more epic spam.  The rest of it can wait until all y'all are home and on AIM.  :P

I have to do my QTAC application, anyway.  If this takes as long as the VTAC one did last night...  ::homicidal rage::

I has a fwend.  Tash is here.  :D!  I wonder if GMail emoticons show up on Posterous?  <-- test emoticon.

::yawn:: Should probably study for the Methods SAC, too.  Session 5 on Thursday is quickly becoming my least favourite session of the week.  :\

I'm going to either go crunch numbers (and pigs will fly) or take a nap.  Goodnight. 

Posted via email from youretrulypre.posterous

Hal-e-fucking-lu-jah.

Finally managed to get my VTAC application in.  It is now 1:26AM, and way too late to do the QTAC application as well.  I'll do that in the morning when I get to school, in my triple spare.

Brian:  If you can manage to get online in the morning, I'll be on for most of the morning, and probably for the whole day if I play my metaphorical cards right.

Good god.  If the QTAC app takes this long, I may just resign myself to a lifetime of serf-work.  It'd be a better use of my time than waiting for the damn form to submit.

Anyway, I'm about passed out.  So, bonne nuit.  Or bonsoir, if you absolutely must be pedantic about the time.

Off to bed I go.

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