Divinest Sense

Welcome back Patrick.
This entry is all about everything, and entirely about nothing.
Mr Watson said my poem was well written, but so, so wrong. I couldn’t be more misdirected.
I enjoy taking the trains, because they’re twenty minutes to stop and think, and to harness my own qi.
I don’t know if my name is Xin (sin). Sin can be hissed.
I do appreciate the occassional chocolate break, but moreso the smile Mark made me wear today. For once, he caught me not grinning, and he didn’t like it. "Moping around all day," he said. Pah. Good old Marky-poo. Lots of love all ’round. I’m not gay, or bi, by the way.
Pete is. He admitted it. I have about a dozen screen shots of him admitting it. Admitting he’s the devil, too.
I really, really miss my friends. Specifically, Willow, Georgie, Ellie, and Lee. Not Steph, Lee. Guess I’ll just have to learn without her.
I miss Ivy even more than I miss the aforementioned friends, but they ease the longing a great deal.
Now is one of my troughs. Most of my day is spent in a boom. Unfortunately, I was shocked into the utterly unfair realisation that it’s not that peachy for me.
The shops closed forty-five minutes ago. I’ll have to go shopping later- Friday, seeing as I have tennis tomorrow.
I love tennis. It’s that adrenaline of smashing the ball as hard, fast, and perfectly as you can. The solid whack, the sound the ball makes when you hit it perfectly in the centre of the racket. And the scream someone lets out when you accidently hit them after they give you the ball. Sorry Richard, but accuracy’s something of a problem to me when it’s compromised for power.
I would LOVE to get drunk, or laid. Of course, regarding the latter, I would not allow myself unless I was willing to make that commitment and share that relationship with someone. I know of no one who fits the criteria, and am frustrated, and horny when I have time to be.
I would dearly love to fight someone of equal strength and ability as myself. The other factor would be speed. I dearly need a sparring partner.
I should also stop punching my locker to close it. It’s mis-aligned, so it won’t close without a solid shove. I’ve bruised my knuckle, and my original plan of strengthening that bone is probably going down the drain.
I do not know if I will be able to commit myself to learning Jupiter from the Planets, by Holst. It is a hell of a song, and I may not have the time to practice.
Raffles is a busy school.
I am joining senior debating. Including the two mornings a week we have to go to school and read up on general knowledge. Reminds me of research study.
Bassanio has to re-align his virtues. If he existed, and were alive, anyway.
Georgie is good for my dental hygiene.
I need to find out if vampires really exist, and beg to be bitten if they do.
I’m going to watch Underworld Evolution sooner or later, mark my words. I wonder when X-men III is coming out.
I like roman numerals. I’ve also changed my "one" from "1" to "|". Now at least it will be faster and neater, even if it does lack the embellishment.
I very much enjoy using the word "verisimilitude".
My Bible has been torn to pieces. Poor thing. Mr Kosovich would nail me to a cross somewhere if he found out. Funnily enough he’s my homeroom teacher.
I could SO pwn David in Matrix Bullet Time Fighting. He refuses to admit it.
David, aka Bayowha, is an emo.
Beth, aka Ellie, is a punk.
I, aka me, am considered to be somewhat crazy. In Religion today, we were set an exercise. We were paired up and each of us given a sheet about a very rare plantation of oranges that only grew once every twenty years. Alex, my partner, was a scientist who wanted the oranges. Possibly for financial gain, said the sheet. I was a scientist who wanted to use the enzymes in the flesh to increase the world’s food supply a hundred fold, and save millions. It was my job to make sure he didn’t get the oranges. I shoved him into the grass and put him in a headlock until he said I could have them. He took it back later. One swift chop over the windpipe and a threat to gouge his eyes out later, he took out two sharpened pocketknives, and I was willing to fight him to the death for those oranges when Mr Martinskis cut us off by explaining the solution. Alex wanted the oranges to make a cure for cancer, and all he needed was the skin, so we could have shared. Either way, I was willing to incapacitate Alex for the sake of the exercise. He’s a very bad example for me, because for reasons unbeknownst, I feel compelled to beat the shit out of that little ass-wipe. He’d be a fun boxing bag, in all seriousness. I would enjoy it.
Ignore me. This entry is rambles in shambles, and it’s not worth paying attention to.
Please forgive me and take nothing I’ve said in it to heart, until I have resumed my normal, optimistic self.
Mrs Slawomirsky is going to kill me.
My brother has absolutely no taste.
Xena, cool as she is, would get her ass kicked if I were armed with a rapier, or even a decent sized stick.
I need to eat more fish.
We need a swimming pool. I would probably be sitting in it right now, meditating,  if we had one.
I saw two kittens today that were living in a small patch of garden at Trinity. They pretty much moved in under one of the buildings, through a gap about five inches wide where they poked their heads out to watch me when I approached them. They’re starved, and playful. They remind me of two little kitties that used to like cookies.
I hate the plasma screen TV.
I should be doing homework.
I won’t be able to practice the piano until my brother stops watching Xena. Insensitive brute.
His Lordship is a tyrant.
Lord Xin is the Lord of all Lords in RuneScape.
He acquiesces to Lord Sesshomaru.
I need to test my sabre skills.
I will save up and by a sword one day. There’s a new shop in Kenwick Village, a five minute walk from my house, that sells them. It should be open in a few days, but alas, it will be some time until I have the money to spare on buying a sharp, shiny thing. Want one Willow?
I believe that it’s more important to find something you love and to focus everything in it, rather than focus your life on so many things at once. So many subjects to get A’s in, for example. Screw five of them, pick your favourite and excel. Or, forget school entirely, and become a bad-ass mercenary. Or, screw mercenary work entirely, and just become a serial killer, or at least a ronin of sorts. You know what? Hell. Screw that. Go demon slaying.
How does one kill a demon anyway? I’d imagine they’d need to be able to see it first. Is it possible for someone to get second sight without being born with it?
I need to learn how to create kinetic energy by unleashing it from my body. It would be such a more effective way of tiring myself out than vigorous exercise that can be straining or dizzying.
I need to get myself a uniform, and hopefully a mask to accompany it. Like ninja-style. I don’t know if I’d ever take either off.
Damnit Eugene, you’re not even watching. Why won’t you let me play?
Mrs Slawomirsky is going to kill me.
Where’s my ball of yarn? I need to play with it.
Do I even have a ball of yarn?
Hell, I need to learn how to bamf. Or at least, to fence. Or grow a tail, or turn my skin blue, or eyes yellow. The last one seems the most reasonable. I wonder if it’s possible to get golden contact lenses? I would pay a pretty penny for them.
Pajama girl.
Snaky, too. Hiss.
*sigh* There ain’t no time like the future. Procrastination- such a hazy dazy lazy way of recreation. Or something. God bless Bernard Shaw.
Gamble Everything For Love, gamble everything. Put it in a place you keep what you need, you can gamble everything for love. Blah. Make a list of all the things that you need, leave it empty, except for number one, put love, gamble everything.
I need to read Message in a Bottle. I’m going to proceed to update my reading list. Curses, it just gets bigger and bigger. "Like a penis when you rub it," I recall reading somewhere. *sigh* Profanity’s not my thing. I feel dirty. Dirty like a pig in the mud, that’s just made love to an elephant by the fireplace.
Damn me. Damn you too.
Why? Why God, why? Do you know? Do you? Oh really. Reeeeeeeally. You don’t say? Oh I see. You think so huh? Well I can’t argue with the big man. But let me tell you. Oh wait! I see. Yes, my bad. Nice thinking, good call.
Ba dum, tsing.
Zing? Zinger! Mm…. Zinger. Love those burgers, mm mm mm.
I need to rip my teeth into something.
I think I’ll offer to run to the fish and chip shop and back with Eugene’s meal. Overweight slob. Unfortunately, he’s more than twice as strong as me.
I like chocolate, ice cream, and sharp, shiny things that grind up kittens puppies and ponies.
I like eating puppy-burgers.
Heehee, what a useless entry.
Someone needs to give me a good slap in the face. I’ll go give it to myself, as soon as I get to my room where I can attempt to shut out the "KILILILILILI!"
Willow, where are you damnit? Oh wait, you’re coming on tonight aren’t you? Oh thank God. *sigh* I need a hug. Anyone? Just be warned that I’ll hug back so fiercely it may crack a bone or two in your back, or else I’ll pick you up over my head and throw you onto a couch, bed, or something reasonably soft. I feel energised. Well, time to go slap some sense into myself.

One thought on “Divinest Sense

  1. Ivy says:

    I listen to the radio on trains.
    I miss you too.
    Softball is funner. And cooler. You get all hot and sweaty and sexy. (:
    I don’t want to drink or get laid. I WOULD want to seduce someone and then leave him in sexual frustraution. Hoho. (:
    Raffles? Busy? Ha. Like real. We’re like, crazy.
    Debate! Goodie, go Johnny! (:
    I’m an Asian. Peace!
    We got the orange question too. Being Rafflesians (:D) we immediately spotted the solution. Pfft. YOu boys only have a terrorist streak in you. So much for finding a cure for cancer to help humankind.
    I had toothpaste on my knee, you don’t need to remind me.
    I should be doing homework too.
    Boxer shorts are weird. Yay for jocks. But I like superman boxers. I’m gonna get them for your Valentine’s day present. Ha.
    Accent boy. Like, g’day mates. Wth. xP
    Eeeep. Boy parts!
    Most of all,
    *huggs* (:
    Know who’s crazier than you? The person who replies to what you said. And no, sh’es not male.

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