Skype sucks.

Skype sucks. 

Sherilyn's gonna put her hand in her pants 'cause she multi-tasks well.

I seriously JUST heard that. What a fail.

Sorry for the lack of update for what, one, two months? Not like anyone reads this, but whatever. I don't feel secure talking about my uhm, problems and situations regarding life and teenage issues, so if you're actually close to me or something, feel free to ask and I might give you some information. I swear, Kim's the only one who was capable of milking names and everything out of me. 

Anyway. Full conversation of our horribly sexual Skype call (which isn't sexual at all, mind you) on Facebook and her blog. We're so bored, we're putting it out there.

Don't really know what else to say. Might update more frequently when I get back to Singapore. Might forget how to log into blogger again (yes, that happened right before this post). Who knows.

'Till then, 

Adios.

Useless Quirks 101.

Well, it has come to my attention that I have a strange quirk; I have the tendency to have pure, unadulterated rage when someone insults me. 


Now now, before you say "But Steph, EVERYONE has that quirk."


I don't care if just anyone insults me. I take it as is and throw a snarky comment topped with "your mom" right back at them. But when someone starts rubbing my most current mistake in my face (whether or not it was intentional), it really irks me. Especially more so if it's a (seemingly) small fault and I'm rushing to correct it - all the while they tell me my rushing won't do any good when if you think it through, it will. 


It boils my blood, it truly does. I don't know why; it makes me want to punch dolphins. 
... It's THAT bad. (See my subliminal The Oatmeal reference? Oh yeah, I get some.)


Anyway. Random rant about myself over. 


Need to learn how to tame tendency of overreacting and raging. Note taken.

I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me,

Very nerdy, I know, but give it a listen if you're trying to find something a little more... emotional? As compared to our generation's pop obsession, anyway. "Baby, baby, baby oh, I'mma tell you one time, it's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday."
Yes, my title comes from said song. DA2's only voiced song off the soundtrack, but damn if it wasn't AMAZING during the credits. Probably the only thing I can get anyone who ISN'T a nerd/music-nut-who-appreciates-something-without-lyrics to listen to off this track, but whatever. 
GAMING IS GOOD STUFF.


I really can't get my head in the game. Well, I mean, it's in THAT game... But it's not in our game, y'know?
Real life just doesn't have that fizzle, crackle pop, no matter how I try and look at it. 
There's no epic music from this amazing orchestra playing, or some Grammy/Emmy/Whatever winning composer whenever a new setting, character or event is introduced. 
And... you know what I mean. It's just not up to par. Darn you, media. Your trope-filled creations have changed me. 


I guess that's all I really wanted to say. Point of the post: I wanted to use that song as a title, BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING BADASS.


Okay, I'll stop spazzing now. Cya.

I guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough, I'm like, forget you.

I like to pretend that I'm distantly related to Jason Chen. He's got such an amazing voice. TALENT. WINNING.

Yes, I've had too much Charlie Sheen. I'll make my title for the next post one of his quotes. Promise.

Reading The Outsider now. Trying to finish it up before 9 so I can try and sleep (this post is NOT helping). I know I've got Chemistry and Biology homework due tomorrow or something. Just minor edits and whatnot and I'll be done, so I can't be bothered being worried, unfortunately. Spanish by Tuesday... Geez. 

This is what happens when I game too much. Almost makes me feel as if it's definitive that I'll pursue something related to gaming; what with how much passion I have. Easily spent over 40 hours - I think, I'm too lazy to check my save file - just playing Dragon Age 2 over the past two or three days. Man, what an experience. 

Portal 2 is coming out soon. I should be studying, I really should. But how can I, when none of it really matters? I suppose I shouldn't think of it in such a way. How negative. But I swear, this book has a horrible effect on me. Protagonist is one antiheroic, apathetic son of a gun that I can unfortunately, relate to. Not by much, but there's the connection all the same. 

Super stoked for the games this year. Not as stoked for my future. It's not a epiphany, per say, but I do still want to relay that I know life will NEVER be as exciting as I wish it to be. No matter how I try, no matter how I mold it - I can never coincidentally bump into an amazing hellcat who shares my interest while still changing me with conflicting ideals an- SEE. SEE HOW I DREAM?

WHY DO I TAUNT MYSELF WITH FRIVOLOUS IMAGININGS? 

Bah. I've spoken enough.

Also. Facebook. Breeding grounds for stalkers. 

I swear, in the future, murder and rape'll be the norm. People'll ask: Why them? How could they track him/her down? What did s/he do to deserve this serial killer hunting her down?

Facebook.

Oh. And Twitter'll have been in a shotgun wedding with said evil. 

"@LilyKiller Did you see my latest killz bro? HEADSHAWT."

"@JasonWannaIS Yeah, that was sweet. Just killed @SamanthaTheWhore because she talked too much."

"@LilyKiller Oh, wasn't she the floozy you stalked and charmed on Facebook?"

"@LilyKiller @JasonWannaIS Om nom nom gaiz."

"@OMnivore You ate @LilyKiller 's latest conquest?"

"@JasonWannaIS Yeah I did! Blondes taste funky. Must be the marijuana. @RickyPoliceMan You need to start cracking down on the pot circulation again. Oh. By the way, you'll never catch me alive, copper!"

"@OMnivore You sick son of a bitch."

"@RickyPoliceMan That's not what you said last night at the party. We've got proof - FACEBOOK'D."

... I got carried away.

You gotta admit though, that'd be a pretty interesting roleplaying game.

ANYWAY. Later. 

BROWN THE BROWN BROWN.

HEY WHAT UP PEOPLE-WHO-STILL-READ-MY-DEAD-BLOG-WHICH-THEY... DON'T.

So in actual context - HEY WHAT UP SELF? HOW YOU DOING.

I AM DOING GREAT.

YOU'RE QUITE AN EGREGIOUS PERSON.

WELL. THAT'S BECAUSE I'M NOT GREGARIOUS.

OOH. WOW.

... Cornucopia of "e" words, hey hey.

Brief update to say "hi", and to remind myself to blog. This should also appease Sherilyn and Kim, both of whom - if I remember correctly - politely reminded me that I needed to update this thing-o. 

I think I totally went off-tangent from the initial purpose of this blog. Oh well. 

'Twas supposed to be a daily thing, no? Ah, but alas, my failure to do so has once again proven that I am an INFP personality. (See how I just throw in random shit like that? Betcha anyone from St Margs'll find that fact very interesting. Ooh, Steph's an introverted, intuitive blahblahblah? Yeah, I am. It's actually quite accurate. Huh. 

http://www.personalitypage.com/INFP.html

It's a good read, if you're interested. I know, I know, it probably isn't you, but if you want to know more about me - or if you're trying to make cross-references/describing me to a near-T, I highly recommend looking at contents of that link. How... egoistical of myself. Quick, switch to modest/humble mode!

I SUCK. SO BAD, OH YEAH. WHO WANTS TO READ THAT? I DON'T KNOW. BUT IF YOU DO, I'M GRATEFUL. BECAUSE I'M HUMBLE.)

Alas. I've come to the precarious realization (yes. Precarious can be used in this context because it IS dubious) that hot people are marrying other hot people - specifically Hollywood people. And it seems as if they're... sticking together.

Hence precarious.

... That's not supposed to happen. Y'know?

I'm sorting out my life as we go along. Got my Extended Essay sorted. Really starting to work on all my other subjects (and I do mean ALL, senoritas). Trying to get into the mindset of working out.

Just reassessing my life, honestly. Got my goals in check. Just... Gotta find a way to climb that mountain.

Really miss Singapore and all its splendors right now. Oh, easy subjects, how thou is missethed. 

Reading The Outsider by Albert Camus now, by the way, for anyone who's curious. 

Next book for Higher Level English. Just got to page 13 before I was... distracted by a Youtube video of a cat begging for food. I have to admit, so far, I'm pretty enraptured. Quite postmodern, from what I can tell. It feels better than fucking Chronicles of a Death Foretold, anyway.

And yeah, we're done with Perfume. Man, that was a pretty good run in class. The movie doesn't really do it much justice.

But I digress. Have to finish reading The Outsider by next week, when we get back to school. Until then, I'll be trying to pull my pants up.

And to apologise for my dreadfully delayed blogpost - here's a picture of the pancake bunny.

IT'S SO FLUFFY YOU'RE GONNA DIEEE.

"You can't do anything."

Two different posts in a day, in a row? New record, woot.

But yes. My title: probably the one phrase that could set off anyone you tell it to. People are like that, they always think - wish to think - that they're capable of changing something to better the situation.

I'm going down this maelstrom of self-destruction, and I don't know how to get out of the never-ending vortex of losing my mind.

When push comes to shove, people are shouting at me constantly about how I'm useless, hopeless.

Maybe I am. Because shit, if I can't even save myself - if I can't sort out my own damn problems in the head - what the hell can I do?

Also. My ambition to get into University and all that bollocks? Thinking about it now, that's blasphemy. It would mean dedicating myself to a cause I don't firmly believe in.
It would mean dragging myself to work every day; sure, I may get this fat paycheck and a stable life but... What's the point if it doesn't make me happy?

People just don't understand.

I know, that sounded incredibly melodramatic. Great, now I'm starting to come off as some emotional fifteen year old who just broke up with his girlfriend.
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I FEEL, NO ONE DOES. I WANT TO DIEEEE. WHY MUST SHE DO THIS TO ME? LIFE ISN'T WORTH LIVING ANYMOREEEE. SOB, CRY, SLASH. I SHALL NOW WRITE DEPRESSINGLY DARK POETRY FROM MY OWN BLOOD WHICH IS ALSO WEEPING TEARS OF DESPAIR AND AGONY. AND PLAY MCR BECAUSE IT'S GOFFIK."

... Peachy.

Heyyy, on the bright side, if (when?) I pull through this emotional nightmare of a rollercoaster, I can probably come up with some shitty sitcom that'll bank millions because everyone can relate to it and it'll provide all those quick fixes you see on TV so much!
Hence, people'll be instantly drawn into my world because they're mesmerized by the fictional quick-fix solutions and one sided dilemmas that are inevitably solved by the power of friendship and love. Y'know, stuff that never actually works in real life?

It's why we're so invested in fiction and media.

Let's us indulge in the life we always wanted - but never will have. Oh, the cruel harsh cold slap of reality. How you wound our pitiful souls.

Mm. I always was more cut out for comedy. Show biz.
Perhaps I'll spend my spare time in hopes of making a successful YouTube career (Mockumentary! :P) and make some cash off of that or something.

I know that's what Phil did.

Now my head hurts and I miss my friends. I shall go curl up in a corner, sob about my existence and slit my wrists while contemplating suicide talk to myself Lance about cool stuff.

Or y'know, I'll just hang around the Bioware forums.
That would work.

Kbai.

... Smiley face.

Insert Witty Title That Fits The Blogpost Here.

We're unsure of a lot of things.
Life constantly eludes us; it always factors in the unknown.


But I've come to realise that maybe I don't like the unknown as much as I should. I don't like not knowing.


The uncertainty and the ability to change my still hazy future isn't what I want. While people rave about it - how tomorrow is never predictable is what keeps life fun and exciting - I despise it.


I only feel trepidation for my future myself. For the uncertain. Ignorance is bliss isn't good enough.


I want to know who I am. I don't want some fucking life journey that leads up to me dying and having the "light-before-my-eyes" flashback sequence of all the important memories that I have. I don't want to study for subjects I know will never come to use in my future, but because I don't know what's going to fucking happen five or ten years from now, I have to learn it.


I don't want - don't need - to constantly try and push myself and start doing "something productive". I don't want to delude myself into thinking that maybe something I'm not doing now will help in my future - because y'know what? It fucking won't if I'm not already contemplating it.


This entire blogpost is a jumbled mess, I know. But I'm not exactly in the right state of mind right now.


All I know is... I want to know who Stephanie is.


I don't even want that magical penthouse suite in New York anymore. I don't need it.


I want to know who I am. I want to know why I'm like this. Is there a God? What are the aliens out there like? When I die, will it just be white - will I seize to exist? Or will there be the whole "cycle of rebirth" thing going on?


I need not to be remembered. I care not for today, nor tomorrow. "Productivity" for me is a lie - I'm being all the productive I want sitting here and learning more about what actually interests me (because Tropes > boring Maths lessons any day).


I just want to know the things that today's "life experience" can't teach me. I don't care for the future - that's mortality, it only lasts for so long and it can end at any moment. I can OD or stab myself now, and it'll all fade away. (And what scares me more is that I'd probably be able to do that should I get that little nudge in the right (wrong?) direction.)


I want to know who the fuck am I. Who's Stephanie. Who's Lance? Why the hell must I have some sort of mild case of DID? Was I weak enough to need some sort of alter ego? Am I just crazy? Do I just play too many goddamn RPGs? What's my purpose? Because I don't think that studying is going to lead to anything. And another one.
Why aren't I normal? Contemplating everything that goes on in my mind is crazy - even I know that. Everyone's so damn afraid of death, of the legal system, of failure in their future... Why aren't I? Why am I only afraid of myself - of what I can do? Why am I so violently sick in the head?
And most of all - why can't I be epically awesome at gaming and get Minecraft too?


I just want to know. I just want it all to stop.


Ha. That would've been a dramatic ending sentence, but... I just wanted to say.


How am I supposed to explain to the 'rents all of this? That I hate going to school not because I can't cope with the subjects, but because I just can't stand the environment? The soul sucking, cold, suffocating air that comes along with being uncomfortable in my own skin around other people? The lack of familiarity and comfort I've always felt elsewhere? The fact that I want to kill myself... I don't even have a good way of editing that strike. Because it's really how I feel.


Oh angst-y teenage stage; why must you have such horrible timing that when I'm finally starting to take my first step into "adulthood", you come and put in all that self-doubt?
Why make me regret my choice of trying to speed up my childhood?


Although to be fair, I doubt it's the puberty stage that made me hate my choice of trying to grow up too fast.


I'm just mature enough to realise now that being mature ain't all it's cracked up to be. Oh, the delicious irony.


Pardon me if my blogpost was once again sporadic. Word vomit. Just gotta say everything that's on my mind before I forget, y'know?


Ha. I don't even know who reads this blog anymore. Tell me if you still read, please? :D


Talking to yourself ain't all it's cracked up to be.


I should know. I do it every day. Isn't that right, Lance?


Also, if there are any typos or strange metaphors or sentence structures, I once again apologise. Too lazy to ever edit this.