Michael's Carribean accent seems to be getting more prominant, and I badly miss manga. Otherwise I am so happy, because today was sunny and now it's 05:56 pm yet the sky is lighter-flame blue! This means more day-light and spring! And this means Summer which means an even more happy Elest bunny, dragging the carpet and cushions and lantern into the back balcony! Badu style! It's like camping, but better!

With that said, Elest is having a quarter-life-crisis over the duality that is Peter Pan syndrome, driving home with a vengence, and the term 'Married Woman' aimed within immediate proximity of where ever she may be. I ask you, how can one be a 'married woman' without being a woman? Surely one would have to stop being a girl first. Pish.

This is why I been nagging at Ryo about playing a game all the time. If he doesn't want to, I'll entertain myself some other immature way. Hence I'm badly missing manga, pregnant-woman-craving style. Just need to get paid first (A pox'o the accounts people in this company.)

I'm off home now. Off I say.

Near the end of his life Aquinus experienced Infused Contemplaion. Thereafter he refused to go back to work on his unfinished book. Compared with this everything he had read and argued about and written - Aristotle and the Sentences, the Questions, the Propositions and the majestic Summas - was no better than chaff or straw. For most intellectuals, such a sit-down strike would be inadvisable even morally wrong. But the Angelic Doctor had done more systematic reasoning than any 12 ordinary angels, and was ripe for death. He had earned the right, in those last months of his mortality, to turn from merely symbolic straw and chaff to the bread of actual and substantial Fact. For Angels of a lower order and with better prospects of longevity, there must be a return to the straw. But the man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser, but less cocksure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable Mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend.

Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

Countdown to 'married bliss' (note the tone of sarcasm)
Day 4

My red nose stares at me from its box. I will care for it till the 16th of March, and if we grow attached to one another, I may adopt it.
Post watching Blood Diamond that diamond ring is weighing down my conscience. Another one of those sneaky, sometimes bad, often just funny feelings regarding becoming someone's wife. The best thing to do in such a state of mind is this:

Close your eyes and imagine the perfect world.
And no matter who you are I can wager that what you feel is beyond the sun on the inside of your eyelids is nothing that belongs here. And that's why everything is alright, really.

Believing in summer

Humans are fortunate in that we are among those species whose life-spans allow for them to witness the death and rebirth of the world around us over the passage of seasons, throughout our life times. Unfortunately for our lifetimes, however, it, unlike us, does not have a life-span to accommodate our spiritual and ethereal existences which stretch back before our births and far after our deaths.

Maybe belief is intrinsic rememberrance.

'How about summer? You like summer, right...?'
'I don’t know. I don't even know if it exists anymore.'

Waheeyyyy! It snows!!

When Tarak wraps up in his coat and scarf and little hat, he looks adorable.
Kamran: 'Tarak man, don't dress like that, you look cute.' (like it was a bad thing)

Upon that note, I got snowballed on the roof this morning.