Ever since I could only cowyao in English, I write from cowyao to coward. There are so many things I feel reluctant to put into words, not only because I am cautious in word use, but also by taking the imaginary readership into account, I don't know if i want to be misread.

There's an intimate relationship one has to a language. I may well be a playgirl who wants to violate all complex affections without any actual commitment. Whether it's the lack of 'a sense of owningness' or 'a sense of belongingness', I appear to associate with those I pleasure -- but in turn they all fail to please me.

Then I begin to blame myself; for not giving enough, not investing enough, not being passionate enough about the many greatness of an effective communication.
It's like; I expect guaranteed satisfaction from adult shop products but not even care enough to read the instruction before use. Therefore I shall not be granted happiness.

But really, happiness is too much to ask. I would like to think myself as an adult -- unfortunately, however, with a good memory. therefore just forgetting, letting go, and moving forward can take up most of my time and energy.
Of course I am the only one to blame! Carrot-Head is right, and i respect his professional advice, that it's all just me. And it shouldn't be so.

Pour se suicider, il faut beaucoup s'aimer. Un vrai révolutionnaire ne peut pas s'aimer.
-- Camus, Les justes, p.32, Folio n°477

i was over the moon when i got my michel serrault -- yeah yeah yeah!! oh yeah yeah!!
but man, michel de certeau is still giving me a hard time. arts de faire should be arts de lire. now i have to say the traslator actually did a very good job in making the practice of everyday life even readible.. but no, it must be my fault not getting it, i need to get better at reading... or maybe i should pass and carry on living my life -- as if i had one.

problem is, though, that i can't sleep!!
and i miss grandma.. @@

'you are tea that needs to be contained.'
so i made a visit to the container store, and everything was overpriced.

Talked to an old lady on the bus yesterday, felt bad. A trip from Australia on her own for her older sister's 85th birthday, was good fun but 'ended in tears' she said, as she was basically dumped on the street in the morning. I just couldn't get over the fact that an old lady has to stay at YHA, and spend the day doing nothing or pretending to enjoy a free bus ride in a unfamiliar town. she asked where McDo was, perhaps she hadn't had anything that day yet.. it was two thirty in the afternoon.

Advice of the day: 'don't cross with the older sister!'
I laughed and murmured some nonsense.