You cause in me an impossible craving
That cannot be denied
If I decided to make you my religion
I think God would be kind
- Could've Gone Mad, Poe

I've got to keep myself from idling away my time. Brooding is the writer's natural state of repose and it is also the shovel that digs the hole beneath me.

I must not think of death in any form; physical, spiritual, especially of the mind. That is probably my greatest fear, to completely lose my ability to reason. Cold logic is sometimes the last catch that prevents the heart from boiling over. I get frustrated, I want to give up, the heart roars its defiance, the head clenches its teeth. They both tell me to go on.

I need to get my inner balance in order again. Work will help, writing will lull this beast to sleep.

I won't give in.

I sometimes think back to my school days and wonder whether I'm where I wanted to be right now. Throughout twelfth grade, all I could think about was college, getting accepted to my first choice, getting away from the confines of a Muslim all-girls' school and teachers who didn't encourage, much less acknowledge anything I did do right. I hated school with a burning passion and even now, every time I see a school bus roll past on the road, I think 'Poor kids.'

School's saving grace - actually the only grace - may have been my class-mates. Strange as it sounds, being cooped up six hours a day, five days a week with twenty other girls wasn't a bad experience. Far from it. They were lovely people, good people who knew what they wanted and where they were going.

I guess that's why I never felt like I fitted in then.

There's something restless in me that paces to and fro, round and round in my head, that holds me back from reaching that place of pure happiness. I know contentment, I know pleasure in small doses. That's what I get from writing. But I'm a creature of the dark, named after the light, and I've spent these past couple of nights awake, with my eyes rolling about looking for something I can feel, but can't quite picture.

I'm 21 and feel like I ought to be wiser by now, but right now, it's one of those phases where I think I'm muddled and bottled up and can't see which way the stopper is.

Maybe I'll just cope the best way I know how: writing it out, waiting for this wave to tide over.

I haven't actually bought or played Street Fighter x Tekken yet, but I have been watching Youtube playthroughs and keeping up with the latest on Tumblr. Let me say something, while this isn't the most visually impressive game (sorry, Capcom, already seen the Final Fantasy Versus 13 trailers) or the most spectacular in terms of fighting-game gameplay (go check out the new DoA 5 clips, even if you aren't a fan), it is epically funny.

For instance, the win quotes:

Asuka (to Zangief) - 'Can you cover up a bit the next time we fight? Your throws aren't scary, but your chest hair really creeps me out.'

Chun-Li (to Bob) - 'That is NOT the ultimate body! Furthermore, your name doesn't suit you at all! You look more like a Jon or Wilbur!'

Hwoarang (to Dhalsim) - 'You can teleport, stretch your limbs and spit hot fire!? Curry does all that?!'

Julia (to Law) - 'You've gone way past pathetic. Now you're just hilarious. ...Wait, no, don't cry on me...'

Steve (to Guile) - 'The "military man" can't keep up, eh? I worry about your country sometimes...'

Juri (to Xiaoyu) - 'Allow me to crush your dreams. One at time. Girls like you need a little misery in your life.'

Ah, Juri. After watching this trailer, I can't help but love this girl XD

- 'Kay, there's a Dirty Tekken Confessions blog on Tumblr. In which I think most of the submissions were written by the same person.

- And just when I thought I wouldn't get past all the Avengers hype:

I keep getting mistaken for my brother's younger sister, when it's actually the opposite. More recently, a friend of a friend guessed that we were two years apart. Incorrect. One of my aunts always forgets that I'm not sixteen and asks me how my O Levels went. It's quite nice actually. It makes my Mum ease up on her criticism on how I ought to keep up with 'current trends' and dress like other girls my age.

Well, Mum, welcome to my wonderful realm of skinny jeans and button-downs. Coupled with how supposedly 'cute' I look, I could get away with anything in these babies. My boss doesn't even care what I show up to work in, as long as I turn in a good piece before the dead-line. Another reason to love being a journalist.

Speaking of jeans, there's another hole in them.

I've set my mind to buy a new pair and I almost did when I went to the mall last week. Almost decided on a pair (dark wash, 'demi-curve', whatever that is) and almost asked where the changing rooms when I realized that it was just me and a pair of fit young male clerks in the store.

I chickened out and retreated to Borders.

Fuck, you're supposed to be that smooth-talking, writer chick, remember, self?

Originally posted by daystarsearcher at House Passes CISPA: Make Sure It Dies In Senate

After being diagnosed with high blood pressure, Mum decided it was time for a change in diet for all of us. Last night's dinner was chicken satay, rice, and salad. Little bro complained about having to eat his veggies, but promptly shut it when I reminded him that I could play join-the-dots with the spots on his forehead.

Mum also went out and bought this blood pressure meter, the exact type doctors wrap around your arm during check-ups. She measured all of our levels: Dad's is low, bro's is 'abnormally low' (not surprising to me, considering that he has all the vigor of a slug for an athlete), and mine is on the 'high-normal' side. Ouch.

On the bright side, my weight's in the desired range for my height and age. So it's only the stress I need to work on, in that case.

Heh, wish me luck with that.

Anyway, that's what a trip to the gym's good for. A solid hour of cardio with my favorite music blasting through my ear-buds at least four times a week should be enough. I never was the athletic type, but I've always tried to keep myself active: walking instead of driving, taking the stairs at work, moving around as much as possible even when I'm at my desk, etc. I'm too much of a foodie to only stick to salads and smoothies, although that soda habit can take a hike now.

Sigh, C'est la vie...

2009, Summer

"Ramadan Mubarak."

I blinked. It was a very cute, very British usher at Madame Tussaud's. Though judging by the vacation crowds in London at that time of year, he must've gotten used to holiday-goers fleeing the Middle East heat. Dad once told me that if the Emiratis ceased to invest in British horses and football, London would've collapsed even before the economy went belly up.

So maybe the cute usher was just being polite out of courtesy. Maybe he was a Manchester City fan, grateful for our very own Sheikh Mansour's generous patronage. Either way, he looked at my headscarf and didn't bat an eyelid.

Me? I just thought it was a good day to be alive.

---

Another great London thing: the subway. Coming from a place where it's considered the norm to arrive 'fashionably' late, the down-to-the-second punctuality was appreciated.

That, and all those adorable accents I heard on the ride.

---

And my heart about to leap through my throat where it had jammed itself when I realized here we were at that address - 221B Baker Street.

In the rain.

---

Oh, London. I miss you loads, sometimes.

You know, Japan, I think you're awesome in general. Your manga and anime kept me entertained way past the cut-off age, and I adore most of your video-game series. I love the beauty and serenity your sense of aesthetic exudes through your architecture and traditional clothing. And I think most of your citizens must be awesome people to have come up with these ideas.

But then you go and allow something like this and I just ARRRGHH!!

I think you need a feminist revolution, Japan.

- I've finished the third oneshot of Rootless Trees, but I don't think I'll post it. It's taken on the form of AU-run-rampant and though I kinda actually like it, it's just not for FFnet.

- Only four days until I'm scheduled to post my BSC Big Bang fic. Yay.

- On the other side of the pond, origific is coming along great. I've started a new multi-chap (again...) and playing around with lots of ideas. It's just drabbling about at the moment but the results have been revelatory. I want to update Apocalypse Minor and Skin Ink, I want to take part in another writing challenge contest. The problem? Schedule's looking muddy at the moment, especially with the arm-wrestling match I'm in against the accounts department. God, people, just process my invoice already!

---

“I’m all right. I guess. Funny word, that is.” He frowned as he leaned back on his hands. Now that they were further away from her, they might as well be from her imaginings. “Maybe I’m ‘okay’. It’s got a good type of sound. Neither ‘right’ nor ‘wrong’, just two broken syllables. Can’t hang one without the other.”

When he laughed, it was off-kilter, meaning and all. “You’re going to hate where this is going.”
 
And that's all I can come up with Breathing for the moment. I really want to get this update done, I really do. Fanfic-block, much?