| I've finally decided that I don't quite love xanga.
http://anothercaroline.tumblr.com
MOVED.
BYE :D
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| I had these great plans to wake up early this morning and pick up English muffins and have them with scrambled eggs and caramelized onions for breakfast. But of course, I woke up at 8 to turn my alarm off and then went back to sleep for all eternity. I was going to go for sewing class too, but somehow that didn't quite pan out either. Wow, I'm really wasting my life away right now.
Broccoli + anchovies and Ellen on Idol. Thanks.
Oh, reunion dinner was pretty good, actually.
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| Standing by April, you'll see.
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| Annoying things like saying this sort of rubbish behind my back:
'How is she going to bring all this to London?!'
'How does she live in this room?? There's junk everywhere!'
(Hi, obviously I know that I can't bring all my belongings to London with me, and neither do I have the intention of doing so. Why would I even consider doing that? All my crap probably can't fit into an average person's closet, let alone the minuscule closet that my twelve square meter room will have to offer. Somehow, the mess doesn't quite bother me. Yes, I'll admit that it is annoying when there's so much stuff everywhere, but in order to meticulously organize my belongings so that they all have their own place and space would require my parents to buy a new house. We clearly cannot afford that. I'm not a hoarder. I have just magically accumulated a bunch of lovely things. So if it bothers you that much, don't go into my room. You weren't exactly invited in, you know.)
More annoying things include trying on my shoes and clothes when I'm not home.
(That is just plain rude any way you look at it. Everyone knows that my shoes are my children, and that, like my magazines, they shall not be touched because I'm paranoid that someone will screw up something along the way. But if you ask, and I like you enough, sure, go have your way with them. Honestly, this invades all sense of personal space and is a great health hazard. What if I, or you, have warts or something? I'd really rather not share such an intimate relationship, thanks very much.)
This next one really blows the previous point out of the water: Trying on my shoes when I am home and laughing about it like it's perfectly fine.
(For you are older, society dictates that I respect you and do not scream at you with tears running down my face. Such respect, by the way, must be earned. Social conventions like such are just rubbish. How am I supposed to respect you if you refuse to respect me and my belongings and personal space? No, it's not cute when you strut around in my pumps and go, 'Oh, how do you walk in these? They're very nice shoes,' 'Uh, thanks, right,' what else am I supposed to say when my brain keeps telling me that I should trip you?)
Please stop.
Woe betide such relatives.
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| well, IN MY DEFENCE, i was left with no choice. (though that really is just a BIG FAT LIE, let me make false claims to console myself.) oh darn. i could go on and on about how i think life's just being uber unfair, but i'll be a nasty person if i did so. let's just leave it at that.
(June, 2007)
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True