Afraid not. I will probably cringe when I re-read this entry because I am so mentally exhausted that I am incoherent. My brain is unable to churn out the requisite words for each thought... I fear I shall soon have to resort to the uber-cute but oh so unsophisticated usage of "stuff" and "thingie" as I am wont to do, when I cannot think of the exact word I wanted to use originally. That is in addition to meandering sentences, and possibly bad grammar (more than usual), which I am afraid stems from my love of hearing myself speak... or think... no matter how incoherent I sound. Whatever.

Well, today was a bad day.

I made my mother cry. *cringe*

Well, it wasn't deliberate. I was all teary and depressed and was so sick of facing four blank walls (I exaggerate, but you get the idea) that I called home. I figured that it is always comforting to hear a voice that showers unconditional pure love on you and it would lift my spirits a little. Bad idea. Now I remember in hindsight why I try not to confide in my mother. I started crying because my mood was really really low and I was feeling so terrible about work and my current condition. In any case, that set my mother off. My mother is a great person. She lives for my brat sister and I, and it hurts her terribly to see me so upset. Argh. Then it hurts me to see her so upset about little upset me. So I cry even more. Argh again. Enough on that topic.

Do I sound nonchalant? My inner critic is saying that I sound nonchalant. I am not nonchalant. I may sound nonchalant but I am not. Oh why am I justifying myself to myself? *throws hands up in despair*

Sometimes I think I make too many serious things a joke. Yet my BF doesn't think so. People round me think I cannot see humour in anything difficult that life throws in my nice, smooth, (damnit!) beautiful path. I worry too much... etc. Well, yes I do, now that think about it. But hey, sometimes I do joke about stuff like this kind of stuff... erhm I told you I am tired.

And I do question myself about the validity and motive behind keeping an online diary. On one hand, I justify it by maintaining that i write trivial stuff in it because I agree with Sweet Teeth that keeping a public viewing diary defeats the whole principle of having a diary. I seem to recall having this conversation at an earlier point in time. Oh what the heck:)

Still, it is my narcissistic tendencies that keep this going. I mean who doesn't get a kick from knowing that somewhere out there someone is enjoying reading one's ramblings. Heh.

Like I mentioned before, I tend to go on little personal pilgrimages into obsessions. The fervour tends to fade in time. I will be keeping track on how long this little craze of mine lasts.

I do realise that I tend to pick up new hobbies whenever I am stressed. My comic craze is relatively new, having been around since I broke up with my second BF, which was 3-4 years ago. I got hooked into comics when I tagged along with my rebound crush to the nearest comic store. Now he was cute:) He was a skateboarder and was a real literary person. He wasn't the poetic kind, more of a beatnik prose kind of guy. (Did that last sentence make any sense? Argh... forget it.) That was the year of the dreaded A-levels too, which wasn't too dreadful if it didn't scare me enough to actually study for it.

Ahhhh... to be seventeen again.

Not.

I am quite happy with my life right now, barring dumb illnesses, exams, essays, irritating bitches and hormonal imbalances. Oh and dumb voices in my head. No I am not schizophrenic. Nonononono.

Warned you before that this entry was seriously incoherent.

Now I forgot what else I was going to say.

*shrug*

I think that's my cue to end it here.

Cheerio.