We're Going To The Zoo!

.... Tomorrow.

So excited!

Clinton and I. Just us. :)

Memories

Memories are such bittersweet things.

You relish them, and yet when you relive them you get that twisty sniffle in your nasal passage, that sour feeling, almost as if you were going to cry.

And you're perilously close to. You scrunch up your face, hoping that the tears won't come.

They don't. They never come. So you're stuck with that anticlimatic feeling, like an unfulfilled orgasm, for the rest of the night.


I got around to watching old movies from my childhood recently. They're awesome, and they bring back lots of sweet memories. There is a love-hate relationship with sweet memories; you love them because they're sweet, but you hate them because they're gone.

I watched The Secret Garden the other day. It was one of my mother's favourite shows. I get the feeling that it still is. She even made up stories about the main characters, what happened to them after the movies. My mom once told me that when she grows old, she'd like her own little secret garden. I'm working towards that.

Was watching Hook today. It took me back to a time when I still believed in faries and toys that magically wake up to play when you're sleeping. I think I read too many Enid Blyton books then.

Memories took me back to when everything was fun, and innocent, and carefree. But what marrs the sweetness was that it also took me back to a time when mom and dad were young and carefree too. Dad still had a full head of black hair, and mom was carefree enough to always be planning and plotting new adventures for the weekend.

What happened?

Did we all lose focus on what's important, or did we all just grew up?

Will we all get so complacent that we forget that one day, people will leave and worlds will come crashing down?

Cliche as it may sounds, treasure the people around you, the people who love you. Build even more bittersweet memories, take lots of pictures to help.

You never know when they may come in handy.

Are You All Gone?

Am I still being monitered?


Can I come back now?


Then again, fuck cares because the people who used to moniter my blog and run crying to their support group when they get shot at are no longer here, are they?

Yes. This is who I've become.

Deal with it.