Dream - Prince Of Stories

I almost always remember my dreams. It depends if I was industrious enough (or had enough time) to write 'em down or not. It also depends on whether I woke up to the gentle buzz-sawing of my alarm clock or my mother shouted to wake me. If I have enough time and compunction, I'll just start writing it down. If not, I lie motionless and retrace my dream until I got all the details in my head before I get up. Too bad my dream journal got taken with my laptop on the Day I'd Rather Not Have Happened. Reading back your old dreams feel alot like reading a stranger's journal. There are dreams you'd have forgotten about altogether or certain segues you don't remember having.

My dreams are usually in one chronological stretch. Then there are those that do not make any sense- usually a precursor to the next dream. Those'd be th' segues. If I'm really fortunate, I dream of someplace familiar and I'm let loose to basically do whatever I want. The best kind of dreams are the ones where your friends are in.

If you have to spark a riot as a cover to escape from your would-be assasins, there's no one better than to rely on than having Mel head up the other team. Two teams are a little bit more chaotic than one. The only downside is that I wouldn't have anyone I really knew or trusted to watch my back, were we split. All was good and we managed to cause enough ruckus for the schoolbus carrying Pastor Carey and Lois to make it safely 'cross the border and back into JB.

Ange features prominently in all my "Oh Cr*p, I'm late for service and I'm playing keyboard for worship!" Heh. Have I had any bad experiences with you and punctuality? Usually I'd be racing up the staircase and I can hear the strains of the first song already. Or we'd be in worship practice and I was downstairs trying to get up to where you were without having to pass the huge*ss carnivorous dinosaur in the lobby. (Note-to-self: find out where the real fire alarms are in church.) Anyhow, the latest dream I had with her was the one where we were in some sort of military thing doing a face-off tactical drill ala "Capture The Flag" against this other visiting team who had a team leader named Amanda who played bass. They cheated, we lost and I laughed at how bloody brilliant they were into replacing our flag with a decoy so we were running about thinking all was well when they've actually gotten our flag. *snorts* Remind me to tell you about that one. It was pretty detailed.

I had to haul Lyd's skinny ass down several floors via a steep staircase to escape this homeless guy who was about to attack us. Or the one time I was wandering about my primary school looking for her to ask her something about filming the assembly.

Eurgh, speaking of school- I can't remember how many countless times I've had the dream of me repeating Form 5 and *still* unprepared for SPM despite being older and supposedly wiser/smarter. I love school, don't get me wrong. But it stops being funny when I'm 23 and still cringing everytime Mrs Ing asks me why I don't have my homework. I'm an adult, d*mmit! I don't have to do your stupid homework if I don't want to!

Things I can / can't do in a dream:
~ Can't murder something/someone in cold blood even if I absolutely have to. I'm such a wuss when it comes to that. I cringed when I realised I was supposed to strangle a hamster and just started running. Shooting someone who would've killed you is a different matter altogether. Hey, he was going to kill me, okay? Besides, my guns always turn into toy ones and start shooting odd objects like calculators and string confetti instead.
~ Can't die in a dream. Jumped off tall buildings (floated back onto the ground), stood still in the middle of heavy traffic and let a car plow into me (it felt like being gently pushed into a pile of plush pillows), letting some boogeyman catch up to me only to fall to the really soft ground asleep. It's weird.
~ I actually know how to use a gun. Maybe its all that CSI I've been watching. I taught Lois how to take a gun apart, assemble it and load it up. I named all the parts and warned her about the hair trigger and recoil. Apparently, you're supposed to fire in short controlled bursts as not to lose your target because of the recoil kicking your aim off. Hmm. Maybe its all the Hitman I've been playing.
~ Can't use stick shift to save my life. Can't drive without having the car plow into something or getting scratched. Hey, it's not my fault if the car has really sluggish brakes, right?
~ I have both cried and laughed myself awake. There'd be tears on my pillow or I'd be smiling. I'd crack myself up in dreams sometimes and wake up realizing it really wasn't that funny after all. I guess I have lower expectations of myself when dreaming.

Most of the dreams I have end up as premises for stories or ideas. I had a dream in primary school that turned into a universe that I created complete with diagrams, character biographies and a long complex story that I still work on til today from time to time. Most of it was lost on the Day I'd Rather Not Have Happened. Here are a couple of snippets I dug up recently:

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No one has spoken for the last hour or so, prefering instead to wallow in self-pity. The darkness of the room was threatening to overwhelm us and physically swallow us whole. We were all huddled around the humming space heater which dimly illuminated our faces in muted orange. If someone doesn't say something soon, I'll start bursting into song. Hey, if you squint, Prescott looks like th' Cheetos cheetah dude with the sunshades. Why does she wear those at night anyway?
"So." We all jumped. Libby's voice scratchy from disuse broke our reverie. "We're... saving the universe." The two second pause after that felt longer than the previous hour of silence. "A mad scientist, mechanic, musician, jock, hairstylist, lawyer and a space heater?" I can't believe she just ranked us in terms of usefulness.
"We could mesmerise the enemy with my gift of song," Iris mumbled, her eyes closed. Exactly what I was thinking of earlier. Except that I wasn't being all sarcastic and cynical like her.
Ever the optimist, Paul lights up brightly "Aw, c'mon Lib. It isn't so bad, look at the bright side..."

"I can run very fast." Brett says hopefully. "An' lift moderately heavy stuff." Yessir you can indeed, I supress a grin; making out his muscular outline through the darkness.
"There, you see? All is not lost."
"Yeah! And I've got mad skills with the kung-fu and I'm a wicked cool demolitions expert to boot. We'll blow them bad guys away!" Everyone stared at Cheyanne like she had something hanging out of her nose. It's nice when that look isn't directed at me sometimes. She shrugged, "Just displaying my lawyering superpowers- quite convincing, don't you think?" I think I can hear Iris' eyes rolling.
Not wanting to be outdone, I contribute my two-cents worth "I'm moderately heavy."
Liberty sighed and rubbed her face "We're doomed."
Why does everyone keep looking at me like that?
----
----
(Scene: In the rebel makeshift lab where Callie Resident Genius Scientist has been hidden, working on super secret project to save the day. Cue dramatic music as camera flys through the cavernous space. Blue sparks, flashing light, fog rises from the ground and our heroes enter waving the smoke away, trying to walk without tripping over anything.)

(Pan to Liberty who cranes her head up to look at the contraption Callie built. Camera follows her gaze.)

Liberty : What the heck is that thing?

(Dramatic pause as we cut to Cal who gestures with a flourish. Music swells)

Callie : It's a- Time Machine.

(Music stops. Cut to everyone else. Cue collective WTF looks- shock! awe! raised eyebrows! resigned faces! rolling eyes! etc! )

Iris : (deadpans) I knew it.

Liberty : No, Cal- really...

Callie : We're all gonna hop onto the Time Machine and take us back to the past, right the wrongs and stop Kamisaka from killing people.

Iris : I knew it all along. Four words- Sci-fi soap opera. Maybe three words.

Brett : (stage whispers to Cheyanne) She's cracked.

Cheyanne : On crack.

Paul : Time travel... my God, it's like- Science Fiction!

Callie : (looks smug) Yep. Like a particularly bad episode of Star Trek, we will go back in time to save the day. It'll be like the war never happened.

Liberty : Quit jerking around, Prescott.

(Liberty and Callie walk up to the machine leaving the others standing behind. Camera tightens on them.)

Iris : (still mumbling to herself) Maybe more like a particularly bad season of Dallas... and we wake up realizing its all a dream.

Devlynn : There wasn't no time machine in Dallas.

Iris : Well, there's a time machine on this show.

Liberty : (off camera) It's not a bloody time-machine and this is not a show. Now get over here, all of you.

Iris : You know what's going to happen next? We gonna get thrown into the future instead where Noriko is the dark neo-empress of the galaxy and make us all her hentai slaves.

(end scene)

(Cut to Noriko Kamisaka sneezing.)
-----

Believe it or not, the story is supposed to be very dark and post-apocalyptic. People dying, losing hope and all that. LOL! Dunno why my drabblets always turn out weird. Noriko Kamisaka rocks! She's the coolest villian since Darth Vader... I wish there'd be more movies with bad guys like her. Heh. Doesn't take a Callie Prescott to know which side I root for most of the time. The good guys always get battered around. Poor Liberty.

Speaking of Liberty, here's a snippet from Vagabond Viking.
---
The seneschal sputtered upon seeing Hrafn's fingers run through his mistress' hair, "My lady! The vagabond is too familiar..."
She raised a hand to silence his shocked tirade, "Monteroy, liberty is scarce in this day and age. If my guest can find any with me then I welcome him to take as much as he pleases."
Hrafn raised his brow, mouthing "Liberties?" The Baroness merely smiled sweetly in a benign manner as though she did not just invite the Norseman to molest her.
"And furthermore," she continued, "You would do well to remember that my guests are to be treated with the same respect you treat me."
---
And no, its not a love story. Hrafn (Raven) the nomad viking who washed ashore ends up raiding the baroness' castle with his ragtag band of rebels to free the down-trodden province from her dominion. I had fun writing it. Just don't ask me to do it again.

By the way, go read Ange's stories... they're pretty good. Plugplug.

Have a good night and sweet dreams.

A Short Story Not Necessarily For Children : "The D*mn Dog"

I have a dog named Pepper. It is a brown toy poodle. It is very special. Pepper knows nifty tricks like how to hold in your pee until you're let out of the bathroom so you can pee in places that are difficult to clean. She is honing that skill now by peeing a little bit on the paper in the bathroom to con people into letting her out so that she can go pee in places that are difficult to clean. You see, the trick is to know the proper ratio of pee to use as the diversion and storing up the remaining amount of pee for a 'puddle effect' in those hard-to-reach, hard-to-clean places. She secretly calls it "Mission: Make Grace Clean The Floor On Her Hands And Knees Repeatedly Everytime She Lets Me Out To Play. Muahaha."

Just before the act...

...and right after, she'll run like a lunatic for the safety of the bathroom in self-punishment whilst smirking in the pride of a successful mission (note slightly evil unrepentant smirk).

Also, my dog Pepper enjoys a steady diet of newspaper, toilet paper and anything that moves- like bugs and hairs on the floor blown around by wind. She has more toys than I do and gets bored of them at an alarming rate. I love dog. Especially in a soup or a quiche. Maybe quiche- need to buy eggs and flour then.

The End

I've never asked for a dog in my life. Not that I didn't want one, only that I knew my mother hated large-ish animals. So it was hamsters, fish and the occasional turtle. What's an occasional turtle, you might ask? Well, it looks just like any other turtle, but its only there occasionally. But I digress... back to what this post is really about- th' dumb dog. (It just peed all over the floor and I had to wipe the hall. Again. Can you tell?) Anyway- guess what my mother asks for last mother's day? Now, I daren't call my dad in case he asks for a horse or something.

Aw, I don't mind the dog-ler... just frustrated that I actually might have to give the excuse of needing to go home early and 'feed the dog' someday. At least I've never given the 'water my mother's plants' excuse as of yet. Heh. Terasa or not, Ange? Pepper's really not a dog- she's a cat-pig-baby sort of creature. I'd call her a cat, 'cept that cats are way cleaner. She actually sulks and refuses to look at you if you offend her. She rubs herself all over your legs. She pounces. I mean- if I wanted a danged cat, I'd have gotten a cat. I like cats, but not a dog who prances about like a feline hopped up on catnip.

Now I gotta go let her out to play 'cause I've cooped her up in the bathroom all day.

A 'Lessons' Spin-Off...

Tips and Tools For Shrinking Your Best Friend.
By Dr. Grac “Doc” Chang; MD, PhD, MBBS, PESS, DKNY, FYI, ETC.

Tool One : The Obligatory Question

Everyone has one. When I talk to someone, I always ask them their Obligatory Question. Sometimes it’s the same question for a few people; but everyone is special, so they have their own unique question. Obligatory Questions range from “Had dinner yet?” for acquaintances/colleagues to “How’s life?” and “Are you wearing underwear?” for closer friends.

~ Deidi’s is “Are you drunk/high?” Be it while we’re on the phone, online or meeting face-to-face, I have to ask her this because she behaves like a tipsy bimbo at the best of times. Plus, she’s actually a pretty heavy drinker. And I’m talking margaritas in the afternoon. Tsk. Oh heck, who’m I kidding. I had margaritas for lunch during a mission trip when we were supposed to be tracting, for crying out loud.

~ During her stint as a girlfriend back in ‘Nam with ‘Charlie’, “Pregnant yet?” seemed to be the world’s best contraceptive. Well, not really… but at least it was a good reminder to make frequent trips down to th’ pharmacy. For pregnancy test kits as well as condoms.

~ “Still a virgin?” no longer applies to my first two clients-slash-best-friends, so th’ dubious honor of this Obligatory Question goes to the Eternal Virgin Mel ‘Tight Flower’ Sim (crosses both fingers in the ‘Tight Flower’ Signal) It’s a little weird how ‘still a virgin?’ passed down so quickly from one client to another like hand-me-down cloth diapers. I’d worry if I were you, Tight Flower.

~ It used to be “What are you actually studying, ha?” for Ange. A question that I still cannot answer up till now even though she’s been working for a year or so. Nowadays its more of- “What do you work as, ha?” Some computer thing, I’m told- but I’m not too sure what. I doubt she knows either.

~ There’s the all-famous “Are you PMSing?” for Bri and occasionally, Keith- who has the worst b*tchfits for someone without ovaries.

For me, the Obligatory Question I seem to be asked by one and all is: “Guess what?” Which brings me to our second tool- how to counteract the dreaded ‘Guessing Game’.

Tool Two : The Worst-Case Scenario (WCS)

It can take the form of either a monologue or dialogue.

“Guess what?”
“You’re pregnant.”
Sputter. “Wha-? No! I just got a promotion, you ass! What were you thinking?!”

You see how it works? The trick is to tailor your worst case scenarios according to th’ client/friend. If your WCS is vile enough, they’ll give up at the guessing game fairly quickly.

~ Red
“Guess what?”
“You’re pregnant.”
Sighs exaggeratedly, “No.”
“Space aliens abducted you and probed your orifices.”
“Dude.”
“Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa are being held captive by orifice-probing space aliens.”
“Dude.”
“Scully broke up with Mulder and declared her undying love for Krychek.”
“Dude!” Pause. “Metaphorically? Yeah.” She sighs.
Long night. I should really start charging for consultation.
(Send your postal order and cheque to P.O. Box 12155 for a 2-disc set of “Tool #247- The Metaphor Game”)

~ Deidi
“Guess what?” she giggles.
And I am reminded once again to ask, “Are you drunk?” before progressing further in WCS.
“Nooo-ooo...” she sing-songs.
“Are you pregnant?”
“No.” More giggles.
“You did the naughty with a total stranger?”
Giggling. (Beware the future that is Malaysia’s legal system when Deidre starts representing people in court. Hair-twirling and girly giggling abound!)
“You snogged a total stranger?”
“I know him, okay?” A little exasperation in her tone amidst the giggling now.
“And were you drunk then?”
“Maybe.” Let’s just assume that she’s giggling all the way throughout this conversation, okay?
“You aren’t supposed to drink. It’s bad for the baby.”
“Grace!”

~ Keith
“Guess what?”
“You’re pregnant.” (Tip: It works for all genders.)
“Whuthfck?”
“You knocked someone up and she’s pregnant.”
“No!”
“I’m tellin’ ya- she’s pregnant, and her father’s gonna come stick a shotgun in your mouth and force you to marry her. But what you don’t know is that she’s pregnant with some orfice-probing space alien’s kid and it’s gonna come bursting out her tummy and eat you both alive.”
Silence. “I was going to tell ya that I found your Babylon 5 DVD, but you can forget it now.”
(Tip: Try not to go too far out and piss them off in the process.)

~ Mel
“Guess what?”
“You went out with him.”
“N- hey! How did you know?”
My finely honed psychic powers. “You told me yesterday.”
“Oh… yeah.”

Disclaimer: I am not obsessed with baby making and/or naughty space alien loving despite evidence to the contrary. I’m not, I tell you…

Next week on ‘Tips and Tools™’: How To Hone Those Nifty Mind-Reading Skills. Also available on CD or cassette for $9.99. Just send your cheques or postal orders to P.O. Box 12155 now and receive a free limited edition “Tips and Tools™ Spatula Holder”!

Big D-U-H

Huh. Here's another thing I didn't know about meself.

Your #1 Match: INFP

The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world.Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships.It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close.But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist.

Your #2 Match: ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends.You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules.Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives.You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

Your #3 Match: INTP

The Thinker You are analytical and logical - and on a quest to learn everything you can.Smart and complex, you always love a new intellectual challenge.Your biggest pet peeve is people who slow you down with trivial chit chat.A quiet maverick, you tend to ignore rules and authority whenever you feel like it. You would make an excellent mathematician, programmer, or professor.

What's Your Personality Type?

Gacked from Krystle's site. Thanks.

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well.An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly.You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view.A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

What Kind of Intelligence Do You Have?

In conjunction with the upcoming HP 6...

(I know I copped out on posting properly with my last one, but I seriously have nothing noteworthy to blog about.)

Half-Blood Prince, (which we're not supposed to be reading. btw *snorts*) is coming out on July 16th. Frankly, I kinda lost interest in the canon ever since the end of GOF. I didn't even read OOTP til last year and that was in txt format. No, I didn't cry when Sirius died, I wasn't exactly outraged at Umbridge... Actually, I felt bad for Snape and thought that the Marauders were real jerks. They're the kinda boys I would've called assh*les and hexed them in th' back at every opportunity. I might be a closet Slytherin sympathizer. Even the Quizilla test sorted me there. :)


You are a Slytherin!

If you take this image, please link back to my quiz
on the preceding page. Thank you!


What House are you at Hogwarts? Harry Potter!
brought to you by Quizilla

In any case, I'm totally disappointed with canon- which justifies my move into fanon. (For those unfamiliar with my fangirl geekslang, canon means the officially published story while fanon is the story concocted by fans, thus fan-on.) I read fanfic once in a while for my Harry Potter fix. Fanon is so much more interesting. Where else but in fanfic will you get Harry Potter teaming up with the Charmed sisters to fight against th' evil that is Voldermort? Or actually hear Buffy call the dark lord- Voltron, Voldy, Moldywart or The-One-Whose-Ass-I-Will-Kick? Crossovers are th' bomb!

I dunno... I might give up on Rowling's books altogether and dwell in fandom forever. Where Draco and Harry date *ick*, where Willow turns out to be a long-lost Weasley and Lucius Malfoy is actually a good guy pretending to be a badass.


You are a Harry & Draco Shipper!


!!!~What Harry Potter Fan Fic Ship Are You?~!!!
brought to you by Quizilla

A quote for the day:-
Ginny shrugged. “That’s hardly anything new. Those two can scarcely put together a thought long enough to dress themselves in the morning. Or does Draco help with that too? Standing there, ordering them around.” She pulled herself up, puffing out her chest and scowling in a fair approximation of the Malfoy heir. “No, you moron, one leg per hole. One! Leg!”

Hermione snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hands. She shut her eyes, cackling as she pictured Goyle and Crabbe stumbling over themselves in the morning trying to figure out how to put on their pants. Well, it wasn’t that far out, she supposed. Malfoy did have to help them with everything else.

~ Contractual Obligations:Remix, Jinni

And a link to one of my favorite stories: The Chronicles Of Lucius. I dunno if you'll get the humor, but I laughed so much my stomach hurt.

As per Lydia's request, and the fact that the code to live by is 'ask and you shall recieve...' I will 'upday' with this since there is nothing noteworthy to blog about:

You Are 22 Years Old

22 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

I'm 22? Now, there's something I didn't know about myself.

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