Originally posted by coffee_n_cocoa at Seems I Am Not the Only One

Painting the fourth coat on my nails, and a piece of dust falls on it.

fu

Also, you don't need expensive polish to have sleek black nails, but if you want them white, invest in something of good quality. These cheap ones streak something evil.

I just dropped my night cream and it spilled (fuck) all over my music sheets (double fuck). 

On another note, I'll be starting psychiatry tomorrow. Am excited.

 Right! So, has anybody NOT seen this amazing Schwarz art-book by Anna Shellkova? Cause like, you really should you know. I mean. Really.

Thank you balljointedomi for sharing! Thank you Russian fans for being awesome! Thank you internet for bringing Russia closer!

I'm not sensible right now. I will go and weep with joy for awhile.

I've decided to take up that reading meme again, where I attempt to read my height in books over the course of a year. Currently, I'm forging my way through 'We Need to Talk About Kevin' by Lionel Shriver. It's at once, both engrossing and repulsive.

The whole story is narrated through a series of letters written by a mother to her (ex? separated?) husband. It supposedly centers around her trying to sift through the debris of what remains of her life after her son kills eleven people in his high school. What it really deals with though, at least in my humble oppinion, is whether evil is something nurtured or something innate. Can a child be born evil, or is the environment he grew up in (ergo, his parents) to blame?

It's frightening, and it's sickening, and it's too good to put down. Kevin calls to mind Damien from The Omen: calculating, depraved, remorseless, all within the physical body of a toddler. It's the details about his early life that chills me most. At least with Damien there was comfort in it having an element of the supernatural. With Kevin, there is nothing. There is only a child born to a mother who didn't want him, and may have subconsciously shunned him, blamed him and thus warped him into a monster in human skin, or a guileless woman who was simply unlucky enough to have given birth to one. This is a child who terrified his own mother well before he could even walk. It borders on the fairy tale, but skirts just shy of becoming implausible. And since all the detail is narrated by the mother, there's always the underlying suspicion that she's merely attempting to shift the focus of all the finger pointing away from herself. She's fabricating his constitutional malevolence because she can't bear to shoulder the weight of her own guilt. It's in stark contrast with Jodi Picoult's novels (note: Nineteen Minutes) where it seems like there's nobody to blame. In this book, everybody is at fault.

I don't know why I'm posting all this, especially since I haven't finished reading the novel yet (and it being three a.m. and all), but it's been a while since a book really hit me so hard. It sits off center between my shoulder blades: a dread to continue reading and the inability to stop. Like picking a scab, though no scab has ever made me feel this nauseous.

 I spent most of my life living here, in this House. This is the House I grew up in. This has always, always been my home. I seldom had friends over, and my closest sibling is four years younger than me. For a long time, I played alone. I had a fairly vibrant imagination as a child, so it didn't take much for me to keep myself occupied. Every other corner of this House hold a special memory of a game or an adventure I had on my own. A secret between the two of us: me, and the House. 

In the garden, six tall fir trees stand vigil, looming over us. When the monsoon season come around, and with it the torrential downpour it's famed for, the trees would...bloom open. There's no better way to describe it. The weight of the raindrops heavy on their branches. It's one of the loveliest sights I've ever seen. A few years ago, my mother decided to chop one of them down, and though I fought for it, there was no changing her mind.

Two days ago, I started hearing talk of cutting down the other five.

This morning, a man came by with an axe.

The second one from the left once put a caterpillar in my hair. I was so traumatised, I refused to come near it again for a long time. The third one was where I hid from my sisters when we were playing hide and seek. They couldn't find me for ages. Ages I tell you. I watched them from between the branches, saw them running in and out of the House looking for me, heard them calling me, but the shadows hid me so well. We've lost many shuttlecocks to their higher branches (and in our attempts to retrieve them, we've lost a few racquets as well) From my parent's bedroom on the first floor, I used to watch birds make their nests in them. It's fascinating how the trees can look so green from the outside, but so very brown if you peered between the branches.

Every time the walls are repainted, or new roof is installed, and even more so when a tree is cut down, I feel like I'm losing more and more of the House, and with it, more and more of my childhood. I wont be living here much longer, I know this, but I suppose I've always assumed that the House will remain here, and the balustrade where I got my head stuck in as I tried to squeeze through between it, and the large drain where I hid as I attempted to rear garden snails in a cardboard box, or that wall where I used to jump off of while pretending I was a ninja (and looking back now, could have easily killed myself doing so) would always be there. The House is my secret keeper, in her garden my younger self's remains lay buried.

I did! And it wasn't total fail or anything. Should have taken a picture, but I forgot. >.<

Yay me!

Oh god, how do I describe how much I love this? Or more specifically, how do I describe how much I adore Megamind? The leather and studs, the lasers, the campy dance moves, the theme songs! Music from Guns N' Roses and Michael Jackson just can't go wrong in my books. I couldn't have stumbled upon this movie at a more opportune moment; just when I needed my '90s fix.  ♥

The movie itself is quite funny. I'd definitely give it ☆☆☆☆ rating.