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wStuff You Don't Wanna Know But Are Reading Anyway |
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I dunno how you found this, but alas, here you are. So enjoy the frightening fruits of my troubled little brain.
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wSaturday, March 29, 2003 |
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feeling: pathetic... I suck
listening to: nothing
You know, it amazes me how old wounds tend to reopen and start gushing blood all over again multiple years after you thought they'd finally scabbed over for good. I keep saying none of those old scars bug me anymore, but then a couple times a year, something happens - or in this case, nothing happens at all - and results in kicking me headlong into that same old rut. I'm getting sick of that rut.
I'm not going to give the gory details here. This is one of those things more suited for a personal journal that you know no one will ever read (possibly until after you're dead, at which point it no longer matters), not for a blog that anyone with internet access can read and commit to memory and rag me about... particularly certain parties who've known me for a very, very long time and would very likely proceed to deny my existence after reading it. If you've ever said 'lubbya' to me, you don't fall into that category... but you probably knew that. :P I need to start keeping a password-protected livejournal or something...
Anyway, before I even had the chance to dwell on that reopened wound, this song came on the radio. That really old "I say a little prayer for you" song... the original version, with the catchy little hi-hat cymbal taps, as opposed to the newer version featured in My Best Friend's Wedding, or whatever that movie was. I never saw it. Anyway, I was listening to that song, and my first thought was how quickly it seemed to cheer me up. Blasted catchy old songs. But, then it brought up another thought: that seems to me like just the kind of song that a little group of long-time best friends would sing together at the top of their drunk-on-companionship lungs. Made me think of a few treasured moments from my past. Like standing around with a small group of friends in a gradeschool playground, ditching some nearby atlhetic event and opting instead to hang out under the stars and share a blanket and sing Alanis Morrisette songs as if no one else were alive to hear and injure ourselves laughing at our dorky 'censorship' of said songs. Swimming and water-wrestling and generally screwing around in a nice big pool all to ourselves, laughing till our jaws dislocate and crooning like drunks to every single song that comes on the nearby stereo. Leading a much larger group of people in a song started by only myself and a couple beloved buds - on the school bus, in the marching band after a football game or parade, at public events. Making an idiot of myself, but being surrounded by all my best friends who are doing the exact same thing so none of us has to feel retarded.
So the song that cheered me up by being perky put me right back under by reminding me of what I had, lost, got back, lost, got back, lost again, and never regained. What sucks is that I could've regained it if I'd wanted to, but at the time(s) I was just too bitter to care. Little do we know how decisions made in hard times can keep coming back to haunt us long after the bad times are gone.
None of that made sense. In a nutshell, tonight I realized - again - just how much it sucks being alienated. Especially when it's one's own fault. I'd be so much better off overall if I had a nice big group of friends to laugh and sing like drunks and screw around with. Everyone would be.
Now... I'm not saying I want to go BACK to the old days. I want to be the person I used to be, yes. But no matter how much I hate to admit it, I'm pushing 21 years of age. The 2 or 3 groups of friends I used to have, each at different times and each lost in different ways (which all happened to be my own fault), are in the past for good, and even if we did all become good friends again we wouldn't be able to go back to those times. Not because of bad blood - just because we've all grown up and moved on. I can miss it all I want, but I can never get it back. That's just... how it is.
I'm also not saying I don't appreciate what I do have now. Or I should say who I do have now. Who I do have now has given me more than any of the people in my past ever could have, and that can never be taken away. Even I can't screw this one up. :P
I still make no sense, I know. By the way, if you happen to be one of those precious few people who do fall into the categories above, of friends I had and loved and lost... well, I can't say with conviction that you're not one of them. Aside from like, two people, I don't know who reads this blog. You could leave me a comment or AIM me if you do, but... hey, that's up to you, eh? :3 Anyway, if you are one of those people, I'll take this opportunity to assure you that there are no hard feelings. I'll admit that there used to be, but only until I realized they were based on my own selfishness and self-pity. So don't feel bad about anything, and don't feel like you have to say anything to me. I really have moved on, even if I do occasionally experience relapses of that self-pity. So... no hard feelings on my part, and you don't have to do or say anything for my sake. I may feel like crap about it all at this particular moment, but it won't last long. Trust me, it happens now and then, and always goes away.
*slaps self*
Ok, I'm finished. I should be studying Japanese right now since it's back to class on Monday and I haven't gone over anything this past week and a half, so I'm likely to have forgotten half the stuff I learned last quarter. But, you know what? I don't feel like it. Surprise, surprise.
Wow, I also don't feel like starting a 'personal' journal with those gory details I mentioned way back in the second paragraph. See, told ya it doesn't take me long to get over this kinda thing. :P
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/29/2003 11:17:00 PM
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wFriday, March 21, 2003 |
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feeling: not too bad
listening to: Gackt - Fragrance
This song is freaking AMAZING. Where has it been all my life?? MAN, I love this song.
Yeah, I don't really have anything to say, but I feel like blogging. So I'm blogging. Whatever comes out, comes out.
So tonight I went to the huge Walmart in Waverly, and of course I just had to go tp the pet section and check out the bettas. And holy frick, was I ever appalled. It's bad enough Walmart keeps their bettas in those horrible little cups, but some of the ones I saw tonight held LESS than an inch of water, while others were actually almost full, but had PLANTS in them. The ones with plants didn't hold bettas though - they had snails and dwarf frogs. Dwarf frogs! I just about exploded, seeing those poor little froggies trapped in those cups with a plant sprig and zero space to stretch their cute little legs. Someday I want to try keeping a few dwarf frogs. They're sooo cute, and they have about the same water, feeding, and general upkeep requirements as bettas... sometimes they can even live together with a nice, peaceful male betta. It broke my heart seeing them in those horrid little cups today. *shakes fist at Walmart*
Anyway... Walmart also had the CUTEST little female bettas. I mean, they were so tiny... probably less than an inch long... and most had quite nice, dark coloring. Some even had the teeny tiny little black polka-dots in their fins that often indicates melano genes. Melano, by the way, is the term for pure black bettas. PURE black. So pure that they're quite rare... plus melano males are often infertile, and melano females aren't even black at all, so they're torture to breed. They say the only way to tell if a female has melano in her genes is if she has teeny, tiny, close-packed black dots in her fins, especially the dorsal... and almost all the teensy females I saw tonight had spots like that. I almost wanted to buy one just for that. Melano is VERY hard to come by, and almost impossible to just run across in a pet store. But I'm not THAT senseless. I already have 2 bettas I barely have room for.
Have I mentioned this song is AMAZING? I heart Gackt~~ *plays Fragrance on repeat for hours*
The other day I drew one of my half dozen or so alter-egos, Haneyuki, for the first time in... a long time. Just felt like drawing her again. And darn it, she looks CUTE so far. Her pose is just to die for. *pride* I was thinking lately, though... her name doesn't really work. It's Japanese, and it basically means wings (hane) and snow (yuki), since she's loosely based on the ice-summon Shiva of Final Fantasy fame and can sprout big ol' Draconian wings at will. I like the name Haneyuki enough, but... well, it's too long. In Japanese, female given names just don't have more than 3 syllables. So I need to either say it's her 'family name' and think up a shorter given name for her, or find different, monosyllabic readings for the character(s) 'hane' and/or 'yuki'. I'm gearing toward the former, but I just can't think of a good given name for her. Fuyu (winter) or Fuyuko came to mind, but that just sounds... weird. I dunno.
...ittai nan no tame ni umaretekita no ka... *still loves Fragrance*
Hm. I'm bored. I think I'll go screw around at random websites to kill some time now. And thus concludes another shotgun blog by yours truly.
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/21/2003 11:40:00 PM
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wTuesday, March 18, 2003 |
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feeling: -_-
listening to: Escaflowne - Hitomi Theme... yay for playlists
~edited ca. 2:15 p.m.~
It's finals week. Normally I love finals week. Not this particular finals week, however. This finals week I actually have a HUGE final tomorrow that took up most of yesterday evening and will require pretty much every moment of my attention today, not to mention much of tomorrow afternoon. And even that won't be time enough for this thing. I should've started cramming Sunday, or at least yesterday afternoon instead of evening, but what can I say... I'm an idiot.
Phoenix is driving me up the wall. As of tomorrow it will have been 2 weeks since his stupid swim bladder disorder first developed, and it STILL won't go away. It's like he doesn't even want to be healthy again. The normal routine has been for me to wake up in the morning, observe that he seems to have made a near-full recovery, and proceed to feed him a bloodworm or two along with a tiny bite of shelled pea (keeps the digestive system moving). Then, over the next 2 or 3 hours, he refuses to swim around the tank even when he CAN. I mean, you'd think a fish who's been floating helplessly on his side for 2 weeks would be thrilled to finally be able to swim around the middle and bottom of the tank again, but this little retard absolutely refuses to do that. Instead he roams around at surface level, actively seeking out small bubbles. And when he finds them he zooms in and snaps them up as if he hasn't eaten in months. He will NOT stop. And the more bubbles he eats, the faster his SBD comes back, and the worse it gets. I mean, I'd think one would understand that constant swallowing of air is not going to be very accommodative to swimming, the act for which he was designed. At first I attributed the behavior to boredom, then to an oxygen problem, then to hunger, but now I'm ready to accept that it's just plain and simple obsessive-compulsive disorder. The only time he stops is when it's TOTALLY dark in his tank, so that he can't see any bubbles. And I can't keep his tank dark 24/7. Therefore, I have concluded that I will never see the old Phoenix again; this disorder will live with him for the rest of his already-short-but-now-even-more-drastically-shortened life.
Sekiray, however, is being an absolute stud this week to make up for Phoenix's retardedness. Last week he built a bubblenest for the first time in months, and I've discovered that he's better at following my finger across the glass than any fish I've ever seen. If I leave my finger sitting still in one place for too long, he bites at it until I get it moving again. *easily amused*
So I had an interesting dream last night. I woke up from it smiling, and maybe even laughing. It wasn't exactly a happy dream, though... more like... I dunno, satisfying? All I remember was that Dumplin' was kinda sorta in it, but half the time she was Daria Morgendorffer :P;;; ...and in the beginning we were hanging out somewhere in Richmond Dale looking forward (sort of) to this... camp, or something, that we would be taking part in for 4 days. I remember it was evening when the time finally came and we were loading some baggage and stuff into a pickup truck. Then my memory jumped ahead some... next thing I knew, I was riding a bike on a highway. I could tell I'd been riding for a loooong time, but couldn't say how long. So, then I remember finally arriving in some city, indicated by the sudden appearance of intersections, slower traffic, buildings, and traffic lights. Next thing I knew I was riding in this building, which was just... really crazy. The bike path suddenly turned all twisty and turny and utterly unrealistic... parts of it were in the dark, parts of it ran up ramps and up stairways and up vertical inclines and all kinds of insanity. I seem to remember many instances at which I yelled something akin to "What the @%#! is going on here??" and hearing some weird guy who was either riding ahead of me or floating above me (I'm still not sure if he even physically existed...) telling me that this part of the bike track was some kind of analogy to real life - you never know what to expect, and you should be ready for anything. I brushed him off as some corny hallucination or something and was rather pleased to note that I was taking this insane bike track like a pro, flying through U-turns and cruising up stairways and gliding through impossible obstacles in this suddenly-impossibly-huge building. Next thing I knew, I was emerging through this hole in the roof of the building... can't remember if I was still on my bike or dragging it behind me... and I was greeted by all these cheering people. Apparently this whole bike thing was some kind of huge race - probably the 4-day "camp" we were psyching up for in the beginning of the dream - and I'd won it. So over the next few minutes I was surrounded by a bunch of cheering people and feeling all dead-tired and loved and psyched, and watching as a few of my opponents popped up after me through the hole in the roof. Dumplin'/Daria wasn't among them, and I was getting a little worried, so I hollered down into hole a few times - "Daria!! You okay?!" to which, after a while, Dumplin's voice answered, saying she was fine and nearing the end. Well, she didn't know she was, but I did since I could hear her pretty clearly. I think I went back down into the building to rejoin her in the home stretch and finish the race together... I seem to remember us going through all these impossible spirals and curves and stairways in that building, laughing about... something. It was weird.
Anyway, then I woke up for a while, feeling pretty proud at the concept of winning such an impossible, grueling, 4-day bike race. When I fell asleep again the dream continued, but it picked up at a later point in time, and just turned totally incoherent for a while. The big finish was me looking into Phoenix's tank and discovering that he had dropsy and telling my mom that I had to go to the vet's office to pick up some augmentin tablets to treat him with (the best dropsy treatment IRL). I remember the whole day going by and no one taking me to the vet's, and by the time my parents and I were finally getting into the car to go get the augmentin, I was awake again and muttering to myself that that was the THIRD dream I've had in the past month or so about Phoenix getting dropsy. -_-;;
Yeah. Had to relate that dream. It was driving me nuts. Back to studying now... I've used up about 2/3 of my needed studying time and covered maybe 1/5 of all that I have to cover. Go me.
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/18/2003 11:45:00 AM
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wTuesday, March 11, 2003 |
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feeling: like it's way too early
listening to: Day After Tomorrow - My Faith
Holy Pop Tarts, I'm blogging in the MORNING. Ugh.
Ok... so this whole threat of WW3 thing has never really bothered me before, right? I mean it has, but not to the point where I really, genuinely fear for my life or the lives of anyone I love. Nor to the point of actually paying attention to the headlines before I head to class in the mornings. No one I know has been drafted, there's no way I can be drafted, I don't think anyone in my family can be either... plus, in terms of 'war', nothing has really happened yet, right? So I haven't been wasting time fretting over it 24/7. This morning, though, I received an email from the president of my university which included this line:
In February, the FBI noted the possibility of terrorist attacks against "soft targets," including colleges and universities.
Now, this probably means nothing. The so-called terrorists of the world probably have never said anything like this (they wouldn't have told the FBI, anyhow), and it's probably just one of things the FBI conjured up to scare people. Might even be something taken too personally and twisted out of proportion by the uppers at my university just for the purpose of making students join more interracial extracurricular activities so the university will look better. But... for some reason, reading this shook me up a little. I go to the biggest university in the nation, and if terrorists are gonna start targeting universities, I don't see how this one could NOT be near the top of their list. It's no Ivy League, but it's enormous, and screwing with it would really freak out most of America. Even if I know nothing'll come of that little statement, it still made me more worried about all this terrorism/war junk than I've been to date... not that I was worried before, though, so that's not saying much. Basically it just sort of made me pay attention, or something.
There's my little journal entry for the morning/day. Might post again later. Time to toddle off to class now.
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/11/2003 09:12:00 AM
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wSunday, March 09, 2003 |
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feeling: bored
listening to: Gunsmith Cats - Nantoka Shinakya! ...*shrug*
I don't know what to do with Phoenix anymore. Something's wrong with him and it just won't go away for more than, like, 10 hours at a time, if at all. It started on Tuesday with a case of swim bladder disorder (SBD) caused by me feeding him one pellet too many for breakfast - a freakin' newbie mistake *kicks self*. But treatment is easy - no feeding for 24-48 hours, and things should correct themselves. Well, they did, after a 24-hour fast. Easy enough. So the next day I gave him one pellet for breakfast, and by afternoon the SBD had returned. So this time I fasted him for 36 hours, even though the SBD was gone within somewhere between 12-16. Anyway, next morning came around, and AGAIN, by afternoon the SBD was back. It went away again around when I went to bed, and came back again when I checked on him first thing next morning.
Now, SBD is not one of those things that just appears out of nowhere for no reason in a fish that's been perfectly health for months, as Phoenix has. It's usually the result of overfeeding, and a 24-48 hour fast is usually all it takes to cure it. But already since I last fed him on Friday morning, the SBD has made it's come-and-go cycle at least TWICE. Something is not right, and I don't know what. I was starting to think it had something to do, somehow, with light. Because usually his non-SBD hours are overnight; it sets in within a couple hours of me turning the lights on in the morning, and resides within a couple hours of my turning the lights off at night. This is how it's been for the past 2 days or so. So today, before the trend could start again, I wrapped a black T-shirt around his tank to keep light out of his tank while still leaving plenty for Sekiray. We'll see how things go over the next few hours, I guess. This has been driving me insane for days.
But what the heck could LIGHT have to do with it?? It makes no bleeding SENSE! *fits*
...heck.
Anyway... less pointless stuff ahead. Most of this will probably end up being a response to another blog I've read recently. If your reading this AND if you've read all of my blog entries since I started it in December 2001, it's probably you. No, it IS you, given you're the only one who reads this blog anyway ;P
(hint: Enetation is a bunghole.)
Sooo... the main point of aforementioned blog was the statement "There will never be true peace", which would logically mean that the pursuit of true peace is meaningless... right? Now, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I'm by no means an optomist. But I'm not a pureblooded pessimist either. I've learned that some things DO have either a bright side or a hidden side that, while not necessarily bright, may be the answer you overlooked the first time around. I think the latter is the case here.
So the author of this blog confessed in this post that she desired to find true peace and happiness, right? And then, in conversation with one of those people who thinks they know everything about everything and happens to have a big ol' cynical streak to boot, she was told that "there will never be true peace". Which led said author to believe her lifelong quest for happiness has been a big lie. Am I right so far?
If so, I feel that an important point has been missed. See, there's a big difference between saying there will never be true peace for this world (you WERE talking about war and politics and such, no?) and saying there just plain IS no true peace. Of COURSE there's peace. But it's not the kind of peace that ends wars and disputes worldwide and makes eeeeevvverybody happy and every day sunny. Of course there will always be war in this world, for as long as humankind exists. It's the nature of man to think his opinions are the only ones that matter - of a few men, at least - and as long as at least one human like that exists, there'll never be an end to war. No matter how much you push for world peace, you can't suppress the human ego.
But the kind of peace that you strive for, O aforementioned author of aforementioned blog, is peace and happiness for yourself, right? See, in reality, that is the only kind of peace that IS truly attainable, and worthwhile. One person can't destroy war and conflict throughout the world, but one person CAN find individual peace and contentment for him/herself. Don't think your search for your own peace is meaningless just because someone told you the WORLD will never have true peace. Because you as an individual being can and WILL find that peace if you look for it. It won't change the world, but... really, who needs that kind of responsibility anyway? All that matters is finding your own peace, and being happy with yourself. Of course a whole bunch of crappy stuff will come up along the way to try to screw you up, but what's important is to overcome it. Because peace IS attainable. It's just not something that'll come bounding up to your doorstep whenever you want it to. It takes a little work to find it, but in the end it's worth it. I promise.
Another important point is that little things, usually material, that just show up out of nowhere one day and make you happy for a little while are usually NOT the answer to findind peace. It takes a loooong time to find who you really are and what your true peace really is... sometimes a lfetime. True contentment comes from overcoming things that try to hold you back, from realizing that you can face opposition and win, from several years of experience in the ways of the world. The REAL world. To be honest, I don't think it's possible to find true peace while one is still in one's teens, because teenagers just haven't seen the real world yet at all. All they've seen has something to do with high school, and high school is the exact opposite of real life. One day all you high school kiddies who really believe that your looks and social life are all you need to get through life are gonna get a biiiiiig slap in the face, and I wish I could be there to see it. :P
Oops, little aside there... *ahem*
Anyway, point is... there IS true peace. But it's not something that the whole world can feel all at once... not the kind of peace that ends war. It's the peace that you have to find for yourself, BY yourself, over a long period of time, after facing and defeating a whooole lot of crap that'll try to stop you. But it's attainable, and it really is the only kind of peace worth fighting for.
Heh, I always laugh when people say the only way to end war is through war.
Anyhow... there was more to that blog... hmm... ah yes, the 'everyone who dies is eventually forgotten' part. Dearie, let me be the first to tell you that those who truly love you will never, EVER forget about you, in the event that they outlive you. NEVER. I'll tell you right now that I think about you EVERY single day, even those times when it's been weeks since we've talked online and months since we've gotten to see each other. The only difference between that and losing someone to death is that there's no sadness in the former. Maybe some longing, some waiting... and waiting... and waiting... *ahem* to meet again, but no real sadness. But with death, you get this grief that never really goes away... and that grief only helps to ensure that you never forget that person. So... no, you would NOT be forgotten if you died. Not as long as you have someone who really loves you. And I can tell you with certainty that you do. So there. :P
Sooo... life's not meaningless, kay? ^_^
I think I'll go back to simming now. I have a new challenge: to get Brett Cameron as high on his career ladder as he can possibly go. That is a challenge because his job skills are already high, and getting them even higher takes fooorrrrrrreeeever. Wee, Sims is good. *plays*
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/09/2003 03:17:00 PM
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wThursday, March 06, 2003 |
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feeling: bored
listening to: Evangelion - Cruel Angel's Thesis
Here is a little something someone at Animeboards whom I don't really know all that well posted about me in a 'what other forum members think of you' type of thread...
Bekkichan comes across as a very honest lady. That's because she's been infected with a horrible virus that forces her to tell the truth compulsively. She has an addiction to tuna fish sandwich and is allergic to the only known cure for the virus, which is scotch bonnet peppers. If she eats them, she'll swell up until she explodes. However, she wouldn't have the virus anymore. It's a trade off.
I'm still trying to figure out the tuna fish sandwich thing. o.o; I am, however, the kind of person who'd rather live with the illness than suffer the side effects of the cure. Heh, that could be applied to sooo many different aspects of life..
In other news... today was the LAST meeting of my biology lab. No more tearing up poor innocent dead kittieeees :D *jig*
...aaaand my life has again fallen into one of those... things. Where there's really nothing at all going on and you can't think of anything to talk about even if you try. What are those things called? Oh yeah, ruts. Lower'n a snake's belly in a wagon rut? Nah, I just like saying "lower'n".
Gackt is so cute. x) Have I ever explained the whole 'butabara' thing? So, like, Gackt is doing an interview and talking about how he likes to shop at chain supermarkets because he loves the atmosphere there. Keehee, everytime I hear him say "Daisuki desu ne" (I love it) in that part of the interview, I just... turn into pudding. "Daisuki desu ne~" *heartheart*... anyhow... then he says that he doesn't like to buy meat from the meat section out in front; rather, he prefers to head to the back area (the butcher's section, closed to customers) where they keep the good stuff - the "hidden meat". And what kind of meat does he like to buy? Butabara blokku, of course. Pork belly blocks. And as if that's not adorable enough, he then cracks up laughing at himself because 'butabara blokku' sounds so goofy. >u<
Anyway, then the interview goes on for a while, etc etc. And then later he returns to that same show to be interviewed again, and the first thing they ask him is how the 'reaction' has been since his last interview. To which he replies, "You know how I like to go shopping and such?... I can't go anymore." He then explains that everywhere he goes, people point at him and say "Ah, it's Butabara!" (Gackt's reply: "Hey, I'm not Butabara... o_o;;") Which leads to the true funny part...
Interviewer: So you can't go to Marusho (his favorite supermarket) anymore?
Gackt: Well, no matter where I go, it's... *chant* "Butabara... butabara...... butabara..."
Interviewer: Sorry about that, it's because of that weird conversation we had last time, isn't it?
...pause...
Gackt: *whispers* ...butabara...
Talk about a classic moment. >u<
My head hurts, I'm tired, I have homework, and I'm out of random blog fodder. So I guess I'll be off now. Feh.
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dragged from Becky's stream of consciousness at 3/06/2003 10:15:00 PM
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