Tell The Sun Don’t Fall

Now playing: Past Praying For- VersaEmerge

I’m deciding to take a break from all those Open Topics which I usually stay up until three in the morning to write. I reckon all of you are already sick of seeing me write posts where I attempt to sound witty and clever, because I’m already sick of them myself.

It’s my first time listening to VersaEmerge after 437593847593257320453 years and I kind of feel guilty for that. I guess I was caught up in the Paramore frenzy because of the concert, plus I’ve been listening to a lot of Ellie Goulding and Florence + the Machine lately. I only remembered how great VersaEmerge is after Theatrics came on shuffle. (My OCD pretty much forced me to listen to The Hider right after Theatrics. I couldn’t possibly miss that.) This is just a personal opinion, but I think their first album is better than Fixed At Zero. Or maybe I’ve gone rusty and need to listen to Fixed At Zero again.

Oh whatever, consider this post ‘Open Topic #4’ in response to:

Oh, I’d like to see more of what you do on a regular basis, since, well, you’re just that cool. 🙂

You are wrong. I am not cool.

This morning I went to my mum’s shop in Tesco to “help out”. I ended up dozing off in the store room for three hours, and had dreams of buying Lord of the Rings books for only ten dollars in this hidden bookstore somewhere in Tesco where I’ve never set foot in. I guess you can say I did “help out” a little after lunch, in between breaks of rereading my Monster Allergy comics.

I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about my obsession with Monster Allergy. This obsession started when I was thirteen, and I went on a frenzy, buying the comics in threes since Popular had discounts. I think I stopped until Issue #22, because it wore off. Recently, there’s this hype where people are changing their Facebook/Tumblr profile pictures to a cartoon they love and I remembered my MA obsession, and I’ve begun rereading it and everything I used to love is coming back, together with the regrets of stopping halfway and not continuing until the very last issue. I still love them a lot, and it’s pretty much like reliving my childhood once again. Or tween years, since I was thirteen.

Still a child at heart.

I am also aware I haven’t told Careful Confessions about my new puppy. This is Heart: Behind the Scenes.

Because of Heart, my daily routine pretty much goes like this: wake up in the morning, check my room for pee puddles and poo piles, pick them up, flush them down the toilet, mop the area. I do that when I wake up in the morning, which is around 11am, which, by then, my dad has already carried him downstairs and locked him in his cage before going to work. Then I go down and take him out and entertain him the whole day, feed him and make sure he does his toilet business outside the house, then bring him in, then we entertain him and vice versa and then he sleeps in his basket in my room. And then the whole cycle starts again.

I appreciate his presence a lot, probably more than anyone else, because it seems like he’s the only living creature who can stand being near me all the time, and he doesn’t judge ergo I’m not self-conscious. It’s nice feeling genuinely appreciated and liked for once. On the downside, his salivating, whining and high-on-sugar-hyper-activeness are pains in the arse. I swear, Heart is the most hyperactive dog I have ever met. There is no possible way to catch him once he takes off.

So yeah, that’s about it. I doubt anyone still reads this blog, everything I write is so pointless these days. If you want to read proper posts, you should check out Effie’s blog. She is an amazing writer, and she’s a year younger than me. Effie, if you’re reading this, I just want to say you are absolutely amazing. I honestly thought you were older than me, you seem so much matured than I ever will be.

Tell the sun don't fall, so we'll never forget
Heaven forbid, well aware of your sins
In the wake I'll be just like the rest
Past praying for
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Author: Michelle Teoh

23-year-old cynical Asian, book enthusiast and purveyor of fine sarcasm.

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