I was initially intending to write several posts in a row. But I don’t think I will do that now. Which is odd. I decided I would do it from the time I finished my pizza. I was thinking about each different blog entry as I was showering, while I was writing the previous entry and while I was downstairs waiting for the kettle to boil for my tea.
But in the time it took for me to carry my cup of tea, my laptop and myself to bed, I had decided I would write everything here.
I finished the entire pizza by the way. It was from Bazil and it was called Cyprus. It had meatballs, olives, fetta, onion and pepperoni. It was a large, but it wasn’t as large as the one from Pizza Haven. It was nice. I think it has become my favourite pizza now. Although I didn’t realise that until I actually wrote that sentence out.
My tea is in a cup Gillian brought back for me from Japan. It was a souvenir from the Ramen museum. I watched a show in Japan about that museum and I really wanted to go. So I’m glad she did.
I like gifts that I can use in my daily life. It reminds me of the people that gave them to me and the stories behind it. I have another cup like that. It’s white with purple dots all over and it was from Mixed Nationals. I’ve talked about it before.
Although now that I’ve said it, I don’t think I’d like it if people gave me useful gifts anymore. Because the story behind it will always be, “because I read in your blog that you like these sort of gifts”.
The one time I wasn’t thinking about each different blog entry was when I was downstairs closing the window. This was before I made my tea but after I had showered. Every morning I open the window because I like the wind but I hate having to close it at night which is troublesome because I hate not having it closed.
I hate not having it closed because the wind blows the blinds (which are almost always closed) which makes it sound like someone’s trying to get in.
But I hate having to close it because that involves having to reach behind the blinds so that I can’t see where my hand is going and doing that always makes me scared that one day, while I am feeling around for the window, a hand is going to grab my wrist.
If I had to choose a place to live, I would want it to be on the highest floor of a very short apartment block. Maybe one with five stories so that there is always the option of taking the stairs when I feel like there is a high possibility that this might be the time the lift decides to fail. Being on the highest floor would also mean that there’d be less chance of burglers, less noise, more wind and no insects.
I love the concept of double entendres but I don’t know how to pronounce it. Wikipedia says that it’s used mainly for a secondary sexual meaning and that comedies make use of it all the time. It also says that it’s also the concept behind the punchline: That’s what she said! I like thinking of these two facts. I think about them all the time.
I said I wasn’t going to say anymore about the book (I said this in my previous entry, but I guess later, when you read the previous entry, you’ll know I lied. It’s a bit like knowing the future isn’t it?) but I just wanted to mention this because I had only read up on the mobius strip a few days ago. That part when Oskar talks about that woman with a museum of her husband and how she touches everything and then wipes off her fingerprints, he likens it to a mobius strip. Was that because it was like she goes through the rounds over and over again but she never actually went back because her fingerprints weren’t there so it was like going through something new. Which is kind of like a mobius strip because even though your finger goes round and round and it’s the same strip, you’re technically never going in a circle and it’s always like you’re touching something new.
I hope it is. Because that was the only part in the entire book that I felt was a secret thing that I actually understood. I almost never understand secret things in books. Like allegories. That’s probably why I got a B4 for Literature in Secondary 4. I hate having to read books and having to think of things I couldn’t have thought of. I wish Literature (or more accurately, English) was all about open questions which involve one writing about all the interesting things one found in and about a book. Maybe the test could be the degree of interestingness of the ideas and the excellence at which one put forth one’s ideas. I hope you aren’t wondering how this is different from how the test is in actuality. But in case you are, I will tell you anyway. The difference is that in actual English essays, the test is the ability of one to identify certain predefined literary devices and the degree of interestingness of which the identification of said literary devices are put forth.
I would much rather have been given the liberty to point out to examiners that while I thought it absurd that everyone went crazy after Antonio’s speech in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar I acknowledged that this was a play and certain dramatic liberties could be taken. I wish I could tell the examiners that each time Portia was mentioned in The Merchant of Venice, I felt annoyed that Portia de Rossi was mispronouncing her name.
Sorry for this very long post. I only have one last thing to say. I ended up going for Hills tonight. The first game was good – as always. We played with 6 players, all of whom were good. Which was a bit unfair because that was meant to be a beginner’s game. So despite lacking the numbers we beat them by at least 10 points. I think they only scored thrice.
Our second game was awful – as always. We also played with 6. Not all of whom were bad. I wasn’t allowed to handle anymore after I hucked into the endzone and hammered into the endzone in back-to-back points. I wasn’t allowed to handle anymore because both times they were bad decisions, throws and they got D-ed each time.
I was quite annoyed that I wasn’t allowed to handle anymore after that because it clearly meant that the guy who called the line thought I was a bit retarded.
Ok. I’m done now. Bye!
1 Comment
December 22, 2007 at 3:25 am
in brisbane i lived on the highest floor o fmy short apartment block and i loved it until i had to lug my two 20kg suitcases up three stories. then i wished i lived on the first. maybe second.