I think I a write a majority of entries with a some forced airiness, like a character in a book who doesn't actually realise he/she is a character in the process of being created/recorded. And so he/she ambles on, holding up their palms as blinders to the editing and stretching that goes on behind the POV. So in order to DTBDDTBY (not me; Anne C. LeMieux), how do I stop it?

Dad: "I am getting old."
Sis: "You are NOT. You just think you are."

Why is it so so difficult to get eight people in the same place at the same time? It will be impossible to organize tour group to visit Yu-Hsin at this rate. I do not know why I am suddenly hungry to see a Taiwan campus although it is clear enough that I want to see everything that I haven't yet.
I have been eating a lot of lavish dinners lately (like when my dad actually agreed to eat at Swensens, and I didn't share the banana crumble with my mum and sis because I wanted to eat something All By Myself, in this case a huge brownie with sea of whipped cream), as I am now in second-last week, with most of the girls being back in school and enjoying pomp and ceremony and opening parades, etc. I remember telling Han the day before her SMU camp, "If you can't have fun, have as much fun as you can," and us cackling over our watery wit, but in all honesty, Fun is an overused term. I use it enough for three people.
You know something? I really hate to Lead. I can do all the business-like shit, but I do not have the brain of a charm commander who wields gelly magic. That's why I am not happy when people spring it out of nowhere.
We miss Weiwei in times like these, because she was always gave, and so few noticed just how much.
Has it already been a week since 1c gathering when Sean, as Angsty!Funny as ever, clambered up the stairs while I carried his crutches? I think so. I don't know why I just wanted to sit in my room and make everyone come up, while they perched, bird-like, in a row on my bed. And how we can never have a class dinner that does not involve something from Cold Storage.
Oh Mel... I understand the Beautiful Idea now. It sucks to be practical, practical, because this wasn't what happened in the movies, did it ever? Our room has had a facelift, and the Mystic River poster is over my bed, although it has already become non-sticky though not sinisterly over my face in the middle of the night as predicted, so I can no longer have faith in blu-tac due to its consistently poor performance.
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You can amass a wealth of knowledge at the hairdresser, reading CLEO, Female and Vogue about fashion editors with cancer and a rocker who hits his head against the wall to emphasize a verbal point, while William tries to artily fluff locks and the young, efficient staff slide you tea in tin cups.
Because Rilke wrote, "Love the questions themselves, as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language",
and Bono noted – "It is impossible to meet God with sunglasses on",
and Pete Doherty cried: "They left me on the side of the road with a plastic bag and all kinds of bitterness."
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