My grandma called me tonight and tried to get out of our weekly dinner date tomorrow night because she has to ‘Watch the Oscars.’ What happened to being her beloved ping-pong ball? Her beloved meat bun? Her precious, little, darling pig? (These weird pet names sounds better in Fukien, translating it into English makes it loose its effect …)

=(

The rest of this post will be written in emo mode:
(Because I am still in a foul/pissed off mood and want to be sinister)

Today, I woke up and realized the world is still in despair. Even though this makes me feel as if every ounce of hope that I have left in this world is gone, it was nothing compared to that gut retching feeling from the bottom of my stomach that I felt when I realized my cartilage piercing was infected once more. Since I am emo, I cried over this.

Nota Bene: a cartilage is basically a firm elastic tissue found in any part of your body. When I mentioned my cartilage piercing here, I am referring to the one in my ear. I have yet to puncture a hole and attach decorative jewelry elsewhere on my body, I will save that for later when I find I can no longer smile at a baby’s laughter.

The infection is tolerable, it does not compare to the pain of having to muster up that sound people call ‘laughter,’ which I had to unfortunately experience the other day when I had to laugh at a friends joke. I only did this because it is apparently common courtesy so that that person will feel ‘special’ and ‘funny.’ Why does society have this constant need to reassure everyone that they’re ‘unique’ and ‘special’?!? This will only make everyone uniquely different. I refuse to conform. I hope that laughter will not have to taunt me today.

After putting on excessive amounts of black eyeliner around my eye (today I was excessively excessive due to the fact that it pains me that people don’t understand me) I went downstairs to make instant noodles.

My mom was in the kitchen. She told me to add an egg to my noodles, so I answered, “I am not eating any animal by products today, doing so only continues to support the meat industry, which I am against because the chickens feel more pain that I do.”

My mom looks at me like she doesn’t understand anything I just said. Typical, no one ever understands me. “But chickens comes from eggs.”

Even though I want to express my outrage at her useless comment, I will refrain from showing any emotion on my face because I am emo.

Afterwards, I had to go to work. Since real emo’s do not have blogs and express their feelings, I will remain mysterious and skip this part of my day.

I came home from work and did my readings. I felt like reading a tragedy by Shakespeare, like King Lear, but alas, I cannot escape his comedies. Apparently, even geniuses like Shakespeare also had a sense of humor. This boggles my mind. In my opinion, he should have just spent his entire life writing tragedies and skipped the comedies. Death Eaters never had to laugh, and look how awe-inspiring they are.

Speaking of Death Eaters, this very despairing and hopeless blog post has to be wrapped up since I have now to go and promote Malfoy as the true hero in the Harry Potter series, rather than Harry himself. Malfoy never conformed into societies notions of making everyone feel special. In fact, he promoted indifference unlike Harry who spent the entire series wanting to ‘blend in’ and ‘be the same as everyone else.’

------emo mode over -----

Lolz, talk about unreliable narrator. I think I had too much fun writing this. My emo self has to blog more often.