Fan Girlism

'I WILL LOVE NEIL GAIMAN FROM A-FAR TILL THE DAY I DIE'

I found myself typing these words to my Sensei, who was sharing with me how her blog review of a book was commented on by the author himself. (read it here)

The reason Gaiman came up in the conversation was that I jokingly plotted to review one of Gaiman's books so he too, will comment on it.

It was at this moment I realised what a true fangirl I am: I was seriously teary-eyed at the mere THOUGHT of Neil Gaiman reading my stupid, rubbish-filled, no-readers-at-all, insignificant blog. I was TEARY-EYED. As in: ZOMG how HAPPY I will be, how FULFILLED, how I will be able to DIE HAPPY.

I am weird like that, but on hindsight (because hindsight is always 20/20) I think not.

Because there is no way anyone can read Neil Gaiman's works and not be blown away. Those who don't like his works, have yet to read his works. Neil Gaiman is the writer I want to be: Witty, clever, sincere, endlessly imaginative and at the same time, approachable.

Even in person - funny, likeable, delicious Brit accent, cool without being obnoxious, rumpled but terribly good-looking in a smart kind of way.

Remember, I want to marry his brain. Amanda Palmer may have his body, but I want his BRAINZ.

Because how can you NOT marry the brain that came up with Neverwhere? Fragile Things? SAND-FRIGGIN-MAN? American Gods? Smokes and Mirrors? Coraline? Stardust? Anansi Boys? NEVER-FRIGGIN-WHERE??? (which is my favourite book of all time, par none)

Even until the day I lie decrepit and dying on a bed, surrounded by my family, I will request for my body to be buried with his books.

Go buy your own Neil Gaiman books, grandkids. Granny's going down with literature in tow.

Because GRANNY LOVE NEIL GAIMAN LONG TIME.

*creepy music, creepy laugh, flashing lightning, flashing sound*

Okay, that bit being over and done with... and now we wait for Neil Gaiman to take a law suit against me, ordering the FIRST EVER internet restraining order, where I will be disallowed forever from typing his GLORIOUS NAME, or visiting his Journal, or reading his works, or ever even VIEW his pictures on the net.

I will still be happy. BECAUSE I LOVE NEIL GAIMAN.... REALLY. LONG. TIME. Muahahahahahahahahaha.

And On to Other Things...

So in explaining my previous emo post, I think I was having one of those pensive moments I often have.

I used to have a lot more of those pensive moments, but of late, they attack rarely, though when they do it always overwhelms me and surprises me. Kind of like Lucky, who sneaks up from behind - you think he's sleeping, because he is prostrate on the floor, legs tucked under his body, eyes closed, so you think it safe to walk past him... but it isn't. He will grab you and try to kill you with love, affection and razor-sharp claws.

Yeah. Like that la.

And these pensive moments always start with nothing more than a flitting thought - one of those random things you think of at the randomest times.

Then before you know it, your body's full of scratches (metaphorically, and literally, if your brain is still tuned to the bit about Lucky) and you're feeling thoroughly down on yourself.

The previous post, of course, is about a certain someone, as is quite obvious. About how I just want things to go back to the way they were. Because the way things were were so good, until my own stupidity went and spoiled everything. I only wish one day this person-shape hole will be filled again. Someday.

Because not having it there is almost about as painful as having it there.

Some pretteh, and then some not-so-pretteh

Well, let's start with the pretteh:

Taken a long time ago; it's in my FB photo page, but not here. So thought I'd put it up. Outside Taman Jaya. Nearly got hit by a bus taking this. Heh.

And this. Same.

Yeah. That's not really pretty per se, but it'll do.

So now the not-so-pretteh:

Me. Entire bloody me.

Even if you asked me, chances are I'll deny the hell out of it. There are many things in my life I will admit to, and many that I'd go down in a blazing flame before I admit.

This one right here, stuffed at the corner of my brain, this niggling feeling, yeah, you can bet I'd rather die than admit it. Admit out in the open truth, that is.

Because there is one thing that I have lost that I miss keenly; and I now find a strange person-shaped hole in my heart. I am too proud to salvage it, too stubborn to admit it. I wish I knew what to do about it.

I've had it for so long I forgot what used to be there before. Maybe there wasn't anything there before, and this one thing filled it up for me. Now that it has gone, I want it back.

I want to ask you a question. Have you ever owned something you cannot see, or touch, or feel for years? And when this intangible thing disappears, is there a hole now where it used to be? Even though it wasn't solid, or touchable, you still were so attached to it anyway?

That's what a feeling is like.

A feeling you've had for a very long time. A feeling that sometimes woke you up in the middle of the night because it threatened to leap out of your heart - it was that intense. This was a feeling you lived with for years!

Then it's gone. And you want it back. Want it like you want an iPhone (yeah yeah I'm getting one, I AM AN ADULT! I'LL DO WHAT I WANT! HAH.).

But there is no getting it back. It's gone. You hope the feeling had a twin, but it didn't so that is that. It go bye bye.

Does it suck? Yeah. Do I wish I could tear my face off? Yeah. Do I wish I could tear the feeling's face off? Hell yeah.

But y'know. We human beings are the weirdest creatures. We spend long periods of time holding on to something, and then when it doesn't choose to hold us back, we give it up.

Perhaps its a survival thing.

Goodbye now.

TICKS! BILLIONS OF TICKS OMFG!!!!

OMFG TICKS BILLIONS OF TICKS! I FRIGGIN' HATE FRIGGIN' TICKS. BLOODY HELL BLOODY HELLLLLLLLL!

pic from google images ya, if copyright n all that shit who ask u to appear in google in the first place?

SO YEAH. TODAY IS ALL CAPS DAY. I AM ABOUT TO YELL AT YOU FROM FAR AWAY. THAT'S RIGHT. YOU HEARD ME. YEAH I'M TALKING TO YOU.

Actually no la. I'm too nice to shout at anyone. *bats eyelashes* But please be grossed out by the tick picture because that is what poor Lucky and poor Maya are having on their bodies right now and OMFG I HATE TICKS. Words fail on how much I hate those stupid evil little BLOODSUCKERS.

Okay so I don't have much time for a proper update (killing ticks is hard, tiring, time consuming work) so this is a QU, and some amusement for you:

The Malaysian Today team, gathered strangely for the first time in the cafeteria, having lunch. First time in the whole year I worked there man! Maybe first time since they moved in to the building what, 3 yrs ago? Picture courtesy of LJS.

Names later la. Gtg edy. Now tumpang-ing STARBUCKS internets mah.

UPDATE!

The names, as promised, are: (going across the table like a ping pong match, centre is net, then left to right to left to right to left to right then also the picture taker la, who is out of the picture. Ok got it? good lets go)

Zharlie, Aris-u, Kogilagila (XP), KR, RTCHie, JA, CK, NN, me (laughing like moron), IVN, and new member of the crazy team, SBRNA, and JSPH. Not in pic LJS, who took like, 10 pics to get us all in together. Haha.

See ya'll.

How to Train Your Dinos

It's simple, actually. You bring one of them to a movie about a boy and his dragon.

So I watched 'How to Train Your Dragon' with my mom and sis recently, and I've discovered the secret to making my mommy dearest happy and a-glow with fuzzy feelings all day.

Just take her to a movie, or should I say, animated movie. Of the six times I've brought her to the cinema, all of it (except Alice in Wonderland) was a cartoon/animated film. Lol. Can you imagine the role reversal going on here? Ol' Sigmund Freud would have a field day.

Neeways; my mom enjoys the whole movie-going experience more than the movie itself. She's so cute when she goes to the movies. Get very excited one. Hahahaha.

But, going to the MAIN point of this post - a review of How to Train Your Dragon.

To sum it up;

As I was leaving the cinema, I turned to my Mommy and said: "Mommy, I want a dragon too!" Which elicited a rare grin from her. But I'm perfectly serious.

I abso-friggin-lutely LOVED the movie. It is, without a doubt, the best animated feature film of the year, the one nobody saw coming, least of all from Dreamworks, who hadn't made a movie as good as Shrek (1, mind you) for ages.

Yes, I dare say even better than Up. And let me explain why before you shriek in protest.

First of all, Up is yet another feather to Pixar's cap. Pixar churns out these movies which tug your heartstrings, make you tear up, provide entertainment that can appeal to both the kiddies and the bigger kiddies and the old kiddies-at-heart. They do it in their sleep.

But Dreamworks? Nope. They haven't (in my humble opinion) made anything as good as Shrek since, well, Shrek 2. Which was okay, but not great, then Shrek 3 was just stupid. They have also not been too well-known for making amazing score, unlike Pixar.

But How to Train Your Dragon has, also IMHO, the best 'boy and his pet' story ever, and possibly the best, most bittersweet, touching and amazingly unhappy happy ending ever. It also has a amazing, amazing score courtesy of John Powell, who made it soaring and epic and emotional all at the same time.

It is all the elements that make Pixar work so well, with just that extra - in this case, incredible animation and action and a great deal of heart. It is incredibly charming, likeable, fun, smart and silly at the same time, and is, despite the dragons, completely believable.

It makes you wanna love your dogs more. It makes you wanna appreciate your pet more. It fills you up with fuzzy feelings and love for animals and pets. You may even wanna start talking to your fish.

Maybe get your own dragon.

It just had so much AWWWWWW in it I can't even begin to explain it here. It is possibly going to have me buying the Bluray DVD. I love it that much.

So for everyone reading, go watch it. You'll regret it if you don't. I am friggin' serious.

Whales out.