i think fifteen minutes has been over for a long time. i'm still woozy, and i wish i could cuss, but words like that escape my current state of mind because they're hard and sharp and stuff, you know? woozy is a word that feels like my state of mind. soft, cottony, coming apart, vague, stuffing, and spongey. i think i wasn't supposed to write here anymore, but comfort, y'know? stupid stupid stupid when nobody i actually want to comfort me is here right now.

*cries a little, from fear of permanent brain damage and see above*

*hugs self*

yowch.

i just hit my head really bad on the wooden floor of my room. i was mouthing along to "death of gavroche" on the les miz soundtrack, and man, that kid's really pititful. i think he was the best member out of all the cast members. cause he isn't damn self-absorbed and wallowing in 1) unrequited love 2) bloodlust or 3) pathetique sonatas about how they've killed people. oh, him and thenardier. thenardier rocks, but i like the other guy who sang him.

and gavroche actually choked and started crying in his song. he's a real kid, and you could tell. i was mouthing along, kneeling on the floor to pack my bag, which was on the bed. and suddenly he just cuts off his words and there's this thumping sound, which is presumably his body hitting the floor, and it just seems utterly natural that i just thump along with him. so i kind of fell and hit my head hard on the floor. there was this thump sound and everything and everything became less, not clear, but i got kind of confused and disoriented. like, i just hit my head on the floor... hm... ow! i still have that sort of vague feeling now, and there's this thumping sound like a mini headache in my head, which could be a full headache if i could concentrate on it.

then i suddenly wondered about head trauma, and possible brain damage and got scared. paranoid me, that's me. so i went on the net and checked for symptoms. i have some of them, but if they leave in fifteen minutes that's almost up, i'm supposedly okay. i suppose. i got that from a kid's health site, because all the adult ones used words like cereberal cortex that i didn't understand.

just checking motor skills. they seem to be okay. not up to par, and i keep on mistyping and noticing things, but mostly okay. since babe's not here, i s'pose i hafta go turn to invisibles for some semblance of comfort. i wish somebody who's here with me now actually cares -- my mum just shrugged and said somewhat irritatedly, "so how? just rub it!" okay, my brother asked if i was okay, but hey, my brother's like that. all talk and balking at an actual answer that requires him to actually do stuff, like touch people.

i feel somewhat disoriented. but at least my vocabulary isn't failing me. and i remember the important stuff about me, like you know, i'm rox's and my telephone number and full name and stuff. all that stuff's important.

man, i feel woozy. my head's all fogged up. i feel like crying from the confusion.

an official announcement

ahem. well. this is zhi ying here, you know? the girl whom you've been reading the woes of for the past few months?

i, that is, zhi ying, am officially closing this blog. why? well, it hasn't got much of a reason. probably because i wanted to, and because i'm kind of stuck at what to write. the words don't come that easily when i blog here, y'see?

of course, i'll still be blogging [zod knows my writing skills need to manifest themselves somewhere before they crumble and die], but at an undisclosed location. it is highly probable that i will not reveal this to anyone.

why? well, because i've come to the conclusion that blogs, which are diaries, are useless if everybody's gonna know about them. it takes all the fun out of getting to know people through normal conversation. and also, in several blogs, people mostly come off as...
- twisted
-bitchy
-pretentious
-depressed
-holier-than-thou
-self-absorbed
-whiny
-conceited
... as well as just plain stupid. and i realize, to my profound horror, that i am guilty of all these things. and you're probably guilty of them as well, to any blogger reading this.

this is not the image i would like to project to the world. maybe i'll take this statement back when i'm feeling less... gee, i dunno, whatever... i'll take this statement back. however! nelly furtado is telling me, in her strange little stilted high-low voice, that it'll be cold in hell, it'll be cold in hell, it'll be cold in hell, before they put me in that chamber. well. that doesn't make much sense, but it's spurring me to do this.

if you want to know more about me, etc. i will be setting up a website sometime in mid november to december. i will disclose the address of it when it is up on this blog.

but for now, adios, and thanks for all the fish.

immaturity and people so do not go

i am going to start an ankh collection. it has occurred to me yesterday that now ankhs are suddenly everywhere -- you find at least one ankh necklace or pendant in a jewellry store. boo. they're trendy now. i liked it better when they were obscure mildly pagan-looking symbols.

i'd bet an arm they're only popular because they're pagan-looking. everybody wants to be fashionably cool trendoid rebels.

people are only goth now because it occurs to them that hey, black is, like, cool, and goths wear black, like, all the time, and they're, like, rebellious and in, so, like, wow, i'm gonna be goth too! *hisses*

and on the other side, people are doing that too, but for diff reasons. that go somewhat along the lines of "i have angst, i write angst, i angst, i wallow in it, hey, i can be goth too!" boos to you too, little missy look-at-me-i'm-an-angsty-mature-sophisticate-who-happens-to-be-thirteen.

nobody's mature. you might be mature beyond your allotted age, but please, that proves jackshit. everybody's immature, we all throw hissy fits, we're all selfish in some way or the other, we all think we're better and deserve better and should do better, but what are you going to do about it?

that's the only question that matters, really.

it's not any of you who're reading the blog now. especially not you, sheryl. but it's just the general mentality, yah?

[also people wearing ankhs that are mine, mine, mine! bahahahahahaha! die, trendoid preppies!]

[see? i'm immature. but at least i admit it. and enjoy it. sometimes. XD]

there is no spoon: ficcism

when i was in kindergarten, i used to read the berenstein bears. i loved their life. they ate oatmeal and porridge out of earth-tone bowls with metal spoons without brand names engraved in them. and when they ate apple sauce (and this blew my five-year old mind), their spoons left holes in the apple sauce! as if the apple sauce was mashed potato, and not some kind of runny, sickly-sweet goo.

and they made their own furniture. they lived in a tree. there entire life was organic, returning to earth without any fuss or muss. they were slicked-back nature, personified into animals that could rip my head off and eat my spine. they could slide into any world. nature, the city. and over again, transitional deities of flight.

huginn and muninn, the ravens of the gallows god. they fly on the backs of these bears, documenting the lives of the people who are entranced by this secret world of wonderland. where spoons make holes in apple sauces, where there is a moral to every story. september always heralds red leaves and piles of them, where brother bear and sister bear could leap into.

the bears could fobb off any adversary. they were the world. they were their world, and i could never enter it. no applesauce. i've never eaten applesauce from spoons without brand names engraved in them, or nicked from aeroplane flights.

i think that my family must be the sole reason why airlines spend over a million dollars replacing stolen cutlery. the spoons tasted metallic and bitter in my mouth, the feeling of an executive, harrassed beyond all reason about the cutlery, placing a gun in his mouth.

huginn and muninn watch as i close my eyes and put the spoon in my mouth.