Drowning on dry land

Going outside is such a challenge. It means putting on clothes that actually match and aren't just picked up from the floor. It means putting on shoes, which is a bother because since I can't lift my toe it keeps getting stuck, and if I'm going to wear any other shoes than the usual ones I have to move the thingy. It usually means being restricted with time, both with actually going and with sleeping and eating and all other necessary things. It means being responsible and reliable and to keep up the social agreements of the world. One of those being, all business is conducted at daytime. And daytime is worse.

Going outside means walking. Disregard the pain, the discomfort, the appearance. It makes me feel like half a human. Then going outside usually means bike. Disregard that I have to step sideways to get next to it among the other bikes and swing my leg over it, both of which require ridiculous effort. I hate it because it means having to lift my foot onto the pedal with my hands because my leg isn't strong enough, and if I didn't feel like half a human before, that definitively does it.

And it means that when all of those things are done, there waits another hundred times more. Places, people, things. What to buy, where to find it, what to do, who to meet. What to say, how to say it. A million tiny details that every human lives with, so why does it sometimes feel like I'm drowning in the details... in life. Whenever I need to go anywhere, my heart cries; "why do I have to move?". It's like this giant momentum thing. Here at home everything is where it's supposed to be, which is exactly where I left it. I don't have to think because I already know, and I don't have to move far, and most importantly, I could crawl around if I felt like it and perhaps my roomie would be perplexed but it would feel okay.

Going outside makes me feel something isn't right with me, and consequently, that something is wrong with the world. It's not just about the leg. It's all of it. When I'm out, half of the time I'm working hard to distract myself from wanting to go home, and the other half I wish everyone else could go home so I could be alone where I am. So yeah. I have a problem. Sucks.

I wonder if you guys know that stuff like in that previous post is sort of like the other side of this. This is me whining - that is me appreciating life. I should write a mirror post to this one. Sort of like "Going outside means smelling the fresh air and seeing the endless sky", except you can do both through a window... maybe "Going outside means getting a new view of things, experiencing new things and meeting new people." That works. Not today though. Today I just wish I could make it not become tomorrow, when I have to go out to go to school.

A Spirit World of Concrete and Glass

Early morning. Evenly gray sky like a single stroke of a brush across the atmosphere. I'm biking along the streets of the outer rim of the city, no cars, no bikes, no people. Only the swirr of the wheels and sense of the earth's powers as I lean to take a corner and experience the soft, powerful feeling of physics in perfect harmony with the metal contraption and my own body. It makes me feel at peace with the world. It makes me feel poetic.
I enter the blocky neighborhood of two-story buildings. The square windows, black in shadows, stare out at me like the gaping void holes where the soul has fled. Their darkness promises solace, sleep and safety. They do not lie, but they are as cold on the inside as the stone is to the touch.
It is the wind that puts me in this mood, perhaps. Like a searching spirit it rushes between the maze of buildings, whirls around the city, voicelessly whispering "where are you?". It blows right through me as if I was a ghost, and I feel its cold touch on my skin and on my heart. "Where are you?"
Perhaps I walk the spirit world. Perhaps there are a dozen people around me, laughing, walking, looking, but I am on the other side of the veil and the cold, sharp air leaves me hearing nothing but my own breath, seeing nothing but my own hands and the canvas, the background, of buildings with gaping dark holes and grave silence.
Nothing moves. The maze is absolutely still as the wind crashes against the walls, writhes and turns and rushes ahead and veers around the corners like a wounded animal fleeing for its life. This is humanity without its bestial side, I think. This is humanity stripped of its nature. Perfect angles that adher to reason and stay utterly, completely still. This is our spirit world of concrete and glass.
Next time I turn a corner there are trees, bowing in the wind, shaking their leaves at me. I stop the bike, feel the forces of physics work with me and against me as I press the breaks, feel rubber against asphalt through the metal frame, and I smile at the trees. They fill my ears with white noise as if to say, don't do this, don't look at the world so hard, just let it be. They are like well-meaning aunts, the trees. Annoying you out of love and concern, while you smile and nod and ignore them.
I think, the spirit world of concrete and glass is a place of perfection. Of absolutely silence, of ethereal beauty, of thoughts and feelings greater than myself. I think, I am the luckiest human alive to get to tap into it like this. It is worth everything.

Last Minute Girl

Masquerade party tomorrow evening and I don't even know what I'm going to dress up as. The theme is "heroes". Apparantly, however, most female heroes have a requirement to meet about how much skin to show, most preferably legs, at least the kind I generally think of. Or they have spray-on latex clothes a la Underworld. I'm ruined by popular culture, perhaps. Florence Nightingale or Mother Theresa? I wanted an Asian person anyway, more importantly than gender actually, but I can't seem to think of anything that's good, recognizable and easy to make a costume of. My superhero name should be Last Minute Girl.

What I have decided is that I will someday dress up as this flashy lady, although in her alternative clothes that can't be found on the internets because they don't meet the required skin shown, where she actually has pants, but that will have to be a later project. She's badass enough to not be the usual fare of Power Girl cheerleaders, and she has purple hair and a cool mark that will require face paint so wheee. And not to underestimate - she's a ninja so she doesn't wear heels!!! She's not actually Asian, in the original version, but... well... Marvel Universe is a marvellous thing, and if you want that further explained, and see how many times this girl has died and been rescurrected, look here.

It's also hard to shake the idea I had to cosplay Buttercup from the PowerPuff Girls. Anyone want to be my Blossom and Bubbles? XD You could do so much fun with their clothes and a bit of imagination.

Hmm..... Kim Possible?

Smygreklam från Disney för Antipiratbyrån?

Det här är ordagrannt undertexten från Pirates of the Caribbean - At World's end precis i början:

"By decree , all persons found guilty of piracy , or aiding a person convicted of piracy , or associating with a person convicted of piracy ... ... shall be sentenced to hang by the neck until dead ."

Om man nu tar detta och kör genom Google Translate så blir det:

"Genom dekret, hittade alla personer skyldiga till piratkopiering, eller hjälpa en person som dömts för piratkopiering, eller umgås med en person som dömts för piratkopiering ... ... döms att hänga om halsen tills döda. "

En oskyldig bieffekt av statistisk maskinöversättning, eller en gemensam effort från Disney/Google/Antipiratbyrån? ^_~

Chisel to the Stone like a Blade to Flesh

I think I'm done.

Life feels like a series of momentous moments linked together by a string of luck and chance that determines how those moments turn out. I remember my moments clearly. The time I really looked at myself in the mirror the first time. The time my mother said my brother looked up to me, without any sort of jealousy, despite... everything. The time my father brought home flowers for no reason and I saw my parents kiss the first time. The time my grandmother kneeled by my mother's bed and said, with the biggest honesty I've seen in my life, that she wished she could have taken this hell, cancer, instead of her. The time my mother said, sitting in a chair somewhere, that she felt like she had a great responsibility to take care of me because she'd chosen me. And now lately, looking in the mirror and seeing my Korean self looking back, and fighting with my father to the point of him saying if I wanted to walk away and never speak to him again, then fine.

If life is a marble statue, I believe genes and blood is the stone, and these moments are the chisel. But how the chisel is put to the stone is determined not by either of these, but by chance, luck - by how we choose to process them. And I think I'm done processing these last two now.

From looking in the mirror I was forced to make a decision if I liked what I saw. And I decided I liked some parts and didn't like others, and that I would choose to change those that I liked the least. I have. From hearing of my brother's feelings, I made an effort to understand him, and learned to see the world more like he does and respect his point of view. Now I'm jealous of him sometimes. From the kiss, that my parents, however unlike a storybook their love is, love each other in their own way. From my grandmother I saw the infinite love of mother and daughter, and like an inmate seeing god I can't deny it. From what my mother said of my adoption, I learned I never want to be a burden to anyone, I never asked to be and to my power I never will - I will never be a duty but a choice. 

The most recent two are linked. My mind was spinning with seeing my Korean side, and I couldn't pick it apart, I couldn't settle it. Something was nagging on my mind but I couldn't figure it out. Then we fought, and I walked away hurt and angry and confused and frustrated. It took a long while to process that one, and it ended up linked to the other. But I think I'm done.

It's difficult to put words to this one. I'm still conflicted. I still believe I'm a Korean and am unsure of what that actually means. I'm still hurt about what dad said, because emotions can't be controlled like that. But I feel more like an adult. I think what I realized is that I also make sacrifices to walk my path, just like I've seen the things my dad sacrifices, and mine are just as much and as little worth as his. I rebelled against the idea that he would sacrifice other people around him, but I think that what he really sacrifices is himself; risking to end up alone. And I realized that I am no better than him; I am ready to sacrifice him to walk my path, even if that's not what I want. Stubbornly, stupidly, he has raised a daughter who is just as stubborn and stupid. And that is the road I will walk. 

Then the words are spoken again, "cancer". Someone else, somewhere else, linked but not too close to me, but to someone else. I hear it and I cry. So I'm wondering... does my father cry? Does he speak to anyone? I don't know. And I'm thinking, my path will not be like that. I am not alone, and I will never sacrifice that. Another momentous moment, another lesson learned for life. While somewhere else someone else has been told their life is about to end.

Run!

I've been hiding. I haven't read any blogs, including my own, since the last post. Was it not for that I can't bring myself to ignore my cell-phone I wouldn't have talked to anyone either. I haven't been on facebook, and I haven't answered any mails, and yes. I've been running away and hiding.

All the running ended in playing with fire and getting burned when it came to the people physically in my presence. And what have I learned from that? Don't ask questions you don't want answers to. Don't play with fire when you can't handle the pain. The sad thing is I thought I could handle the pain, and I will have to learn the hard way now, but what I really really learned is this:

That I am nothing more than the usual human tropes; The Girl With A Father Complex. The Firstborn Son.

And that never, ever must I let myself get angry. Never ever let yourself go. Or I'd be asking questions I don't want answers to, or play with fire I cannot handle. I have always believed in honesty first and I still do, but I guess I learned fear. Which I suppose can be a good thing.

I am weak, is what I learned. I'm thinking, from that base I must grow stronger. Nobody told me how, however. But the lesson I was meant to learn, I suspect, ironically, was this: That I am fine with being exactly what I am.

A Sense Of Belonging

I'm trying to put form to my thoughts and it's very hard. I'm a bit too emotionally involved to keep an objective optinion, and don't really know the nooks and crannies of words like ethnicity, so I'm going to run with my gut.

Since I believe genetics is half of what I am, it means that from my viewpoint at 4 months of age someone locked the door between the two rooms and left me in the swedish part, and I willingly upheld this. People would point out the door but I gave pre-set answers and shied away from thinking about it. "Korean" was just a word. When I looked in the mirror, not many days ago, for the first time of my life, I felt Korean. I felt not just like a fake carbon copy, like a Swede with korean colors painted on, like I have before when people have asked me where I'm from. Instead for the first time I *understood* that I'm Korean, like the difference between mechanically solving a mathematical problem and actually understanding it. I felt one with my physical form. Toes dug deep in the sand. It passes, of course, like feelings do. But it was the first time of my life I felt whole. Maybe that is because I've never felt at peace with my physical form, and it's mostly been trouble for me. Maybe it's because I've always felt largely different from most people and have combined that with looking different. Maybe because I haven't felt that I really belong, really is in the right place, ever, anywhere. But I cannot deny what I saw and felt, nor the lasting impression it made. It is as if I can hold my head higher now.

So having Belgian blood doesn't make you Belgian, and people taking you for an American doesn't make you American. What does make you what you are then? And does that mean you do not consider yourself Belgian at all? I have always known I am Korean. Just like I have always been one to carefully consider before making an attempt at something - as a child I never crawled; I watched, waited and then walked. Culture, ethnicity, race, call it what you want. I care not for the labels. Does my form matter: yes, it does. It is as important to my identity as my opinions, my routines and my preferences. In fact, parts of those are shaped by my physical form. To take that to it's limit; would I have been the same without my crippled leg? Who knows. Maybe I inherited that from my father. It's not hard to extrapolate that sense of belonging to a people. Why do you feel Swedish, and not, say, just connected to your family line?

If there is only "culture" and no "ethnicity", then what is it I feel when I see people similar to me? Had people told me I was chinese or japanese, I might as well have felt chinese or japanese. I do not claim the ethnicity of Korean, or to ever become. I claim to be a Korean adopted to Sweden, and I claim my right to the full extent of that state of being, and that includes a Korean piece of identity. This isn't a huge intellectual venture. It's a gut feeling, and I've learned that those refuse to be ignored. And I don't think there is such a thing as "genetics alone". The two comes inseparably as far as we can tell, for now at least.

How can genetics play a part in an individual's personality but not on a grander scale? Genes are inherited from our parents, and shared by our siblings, and in extension that means more and more people. Different circumstances will force the expression of the same traits in different ways, and it will become diluted, but I have family over there, they are Korean, their ancestors were Korean. I may have a bit of Chinese or Japanese or Mongol, of course. If I say "they are my people", maybe you could argue me out of it eventually, intellectually. But the fact remains that I came from their blood, from their soil, from their culture.

How can appearance can be a cultural phenomenon? I can see that my hair is black and has a different texture and that my skin has a different tone. I can feel that my nose is different, even if I can't see it. A mirror puts it on the edge but is in no way the limit. Without surroundings, would I care about my form? Humans cannot live without surroundings, as little as we would exist without genetics.

Can we know how much is nature and how much is nurture? No. Not yet, maybe never. So it's difficult to say if any race have traits that are more genetically common. So for now that topic is on hold on a "who knows".

Emotional scares

1) Up
I was handed the card of a person today, who when I was ten was the most beautiful, fantastic person in the world. Normally I have to make an effort to have feelings, like staring into a running river for ten minutes to get into that feeling of you moving and the river standing still. But with her name black on white, or brown on blue as it were, on a piece of paper between my fingers, I realized it must really have been my first real crush. Because every ounce of me longed to see her again as I scoured the card for a phone number, because my first instinct was that I must call her. Then I realized that A) I couldn't exactly call her and say I really wanted to meet her right now so I could find out what it would be like to hold her hand, or at least so I could fawn over her for an hour or two, and B) I remember her as somewhere between 25 and 30, a football player, eleven years ago. Now I'm terrified of seeing her again, of getting disappointed, and losing that fantastic feeling I had when I was given the card. Terrified of finding out that she isn't that person I thought she was, or that she's uglier than I remember her, or that her voice didn't sound all that awesome and cool. Of losing that one person in my life that that ugly, plain "real world" feeling never got to.
And yet, all the more terrified of losing the card.
On the upside I guess I know what kind of feeling to look for now, when trying to figure out if I'm really into someone.

2) Down
Last night my right shin cramped up real bad. I couldn't figure out which way to stretch it to make it stop, and whatever direction I tried just hurt like hell. Shit happens, and I was half asleep and only half perceiving the pain. When I woke up this morning, however, I had a huge flashback to how the problems began with my left leg, that in the beginning it cramped often, that that was one of the warning signs that eventually led to that I discovered the issue. What if I lost the right leg too? I sigh and whine about one leg, but if I lost the good one, I would barely be able to walk. Probably unable to run at all, ride a bike... I'd fall over easier than an Italian football player. I wouldn't be able to dance. Maybe even end up in a wheelchair, and I'd look fucking terrible and ridiculously top heavy.
Now I'm looking for some kind of adoption service helper thingy. If I'm going to end up locked to a wheelchair, unable to dance, then I need to have been to Korea first. I want to walk the soil I was born from with my own feet.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall...

I dreamed something tonight that I can't really remember anymore, but I loved it and I woke up with a sense of confidence. I managed to shower and do hair and make-up together with my usual morning routine in the same amount of time, and when I stood there, all gussied up in front of the mirror, I though "I should cut my hair myself, instead of going to a salon and paying money for a hairstyle I don't want. I'll do it right now." And I fetched the scissors, but then remembered how much time it takes just to cut the bangs, and left the scissors there as I went to work.

I came home, saw the scissors, and cut my hair. It took quite some time. Showered, dressed up, fixed my hair, although to my great disappointment there was no wax or gel in the house so it only went so-so, and put on party-style make-up - and more. And looked myself in the mirror and thought:

"I'm Korean."

I cut it according to one of the styles Jaejoong have had his hair, as I remembered it in my head (I've compared it now and it's pretty good to be from memory) and put on my Korean jewelry, and did the make-up as I saw a Chinese girl do on YouTube. I dunno what the difference is, really, but...

I look like all those people I've been watching on YouTube, the strange black-haired, almond-eyed ones. I look like him; like JaeJoong. I feel like I found my roots and was torn out of the ground at the same time. God what have I done? Why did I cut my hair like his, why did I put on make-up like this, what will people think? What will they see? Am I the Swede pretending to be Korean or the Korean pretending to be a Swede? Who am I?

But the mirror answered well enough. Korean.

Lost and Found

Excuse me, I seem to have lost a day, have you seen it? O.o

Honestly, somewhere between Monday, when I know what I was doing, and yesterday, that I was utterly and thoroughly convinced with was Wednesday until my dad told me otherwise this morning, there's a day that I cannot remember. I have consulted my time-table at work and realized that I've skipped writing in it one day. I've gone through the chat logs for work for this week, but they're incredibly messy because I switched chat client in between and the new one acts very different regarding history, I haven't quite figured it out. I can only remember how I got home from work Monday, whichever day in between, and Thursday. I can't really account for what I did, a whole work-day of 8 hours, whichever day it is that is gone, Tuesday or Wednesday.

Hm now that I think about it, I'm rather sure I did stuff for school for a few hours after I came home on Tuesday. And it might have been my parents' wedding anniversary. I vaguely remember something about texting my brother, telling him to remind dad about it so he didn't act surprised when he got home and mom had bought flowers. Yes flowers. Yes, that must have been Tuesday.

Anyone seen a Wednesday running wild? It's mine, and I very much would like to have it back. The gaping hole in my memory is kind of freaking me out.

Religion and Marriage, horse and carriage?

Peter Jöback and Oscar married this midsummer. I randomly stumbled across the clip from Expressen on YouTube. Since it's YouTube there's the usual homophobia all over, so the comments are just a sad testament to... wait, why the hell are you there watching if gays are so disturbing? I mean, it's YouTube, you had to actively look it up to see it. Now that's disturbing... Anyway, what was funny, was that the ad that came up next to it was one from zoosk.com, a dating site for homosexuals, and right below it in the Recommended Videos was one called Christian Videos Online. Whut?

Christian Videos Online brings me to the WLC, World's Last Chance, homepage.

"WLC strives to follow all Biblical truth. The WLC team has made the shocking discovery from the Bible that the seventh-day Sabbath cannot be found except on the Creator's calendar.

In His calendar, the weekly Sabbath always falls on the 8th, 15th, 22nd, and 29th of each month.

Since the mark of the beast is received if one does not worship the Creator on His true Sabbath day, and because WLC infinitely cares about our salvation and yours, WLC is offering US$1,000,000 (one million) to anyone who can convincingly demonstrate from the Scriptures that the true seventh-day Sabbath has ever been recorded in the Bible to have fallen on any other dates than those listed above."

At least they're giving away money, not taking it. The one thing I miss out on for having a personal religion rather than a collective-brain-shutdown is the possibility of making grand, insane social schemes like this. I can't exactly go "Woohoo, Lifestream energy! Let's toss 241 apples in the river to show we honor it, because if you write Lifestream in sixteen languages the letters all add up to 241, and apples are, uh, good!" and expect anyone to come along. You should all join my religion because the spiritual losses I make because of this are sure to harm my immortal soul. If such a thing existed.

...

Ah this post is terribly aggressive. "Collective-brain-shutdown" sounds so negative. I should be more politically correct. "A collective agreement to hand over important decisions, personal responsibility and individual thought to an unseen, unknown entity existing only inside the agreement, and claim that a select few within the community selflessly handles these decisions, responsibility and thought for the masses in the name of the entity through different forms of more of less unspecified communication." How's that? Yeah, too long. Collective-brain-shutdown will have to do.

Electronic desires

I kinda miss playing WoW. It's this sneaky addiction that comes back after six months, every time. A sudden urge to let a pile of pixels hit another pile of pixels in predictable ways for a few hours. Strange. I also miss LoL, mostly because I felt I was getting somewhat good at it and I don't really have a substitute for that kind of gratification. Then I miss, lo and behold, my Razer keyboard. Old, fat HP and Logitech ones, and tiny laptop ones, can only satisfy my gamer fingertips for so long. Finally and conclusively, I miss my Playstation 3. For a myriad of reasons, but once again mostly for the feel of a Playstation controller in my hands, the weight, the perfect fit. The closest I get here is an XBox360, and as everyone knows, that's like replacing your girlfriend with a blow-up doll...

I could make variations of that joke all day. "So that's why all the jocks have one." "For those who are too cheap to get the real thing." "I guess that's fine if all you want is to pump and cross the finish line." "Be sure the batteries will run out just when you're getting comfortable."
Join the fray, it's make-fun-of-xbox-day!

Still Wish I'd Saved The Bunny

Tonight I dreamed about a grand adventure together with a Korean dandy who always smiled. Almost all the way through I had to leave him behind at little homely hotel in the jungle to keep some ugly, black-haired lady happy, however, or she would've brought about the end of the world. But she was nice as long as she was happy, and he didn't seem to mind. Hearing echoes of them laughing together at silly jokes, I continued my journey, and passed a black-cloaked figure standing in front of a burial mound. He looked mildly annoyed at all the laughing. Then I arrived at a small, perfectly square, house in the forest. Inside the walls were painted brightly yellow, and I found a bunny strangled by a plant. I had a green potion I'd found way back and hadn't known what it was for, so I poured it down the bunny's throat, but the lamps on the walls told me it needed three more to revive. Feeling I shouldn't stay too long, I just wanted to take a peek into the bathroom. Inside I found a big, long bathtub sloping down into a hole in the floor without end. In the air hung a white ball of amorphous mass, suspended by red woolen string that almost but not quite touched it. It was the great scientist's big secret, an invention that could recreate the world, and the objective of my adventure. After staring at it in awe for a while, I left the ball, the dead bunny and the house and went back to the hotel, because the scientist might be coming back, and I'd forgotten why I was looking for the thing in the first place.

Jellyfish cookies and jellyfish stew

I dreamed about sneaking around on an oil platform as the right-hand buddy of some imaginary video-game hero, and all the sneaking led us to accidentally get locked into a giant room with knee-high water on the floor together with a big summer-green sea-monster that looked like roots. It was supposed to be a boss monster, but it was sleepy so it was fine as long as you didn't step on it. We ignored it. And in that room I caught electric jellyfish, small ones, which was a dangerous business because they were drifting around like slow pinballs bouncing off the walls and if you got too close you got electrified. A randomly appearing NPC did indeed get electrified, and died and disintegrated like bodies do in video-games. We cared about as much as people care about randomly appearing NPC's in video-games. And then I fried my captured jellyfish in an iron frying pan, without stove or fire, for my mother to eat, because she liked it, but since we had no cheese I didn't want to eat with her. Instead I chopped up those "tentacles" or "hairs" that big jellyfish have into small pieces and deep-fried them, in the same magic frying pan, and shared with my brother. Those were very tasty even without cheese.

Dreamhack

Dreamhack på SVT, t.ex finaler i HoN (med en hel del StarCraft 2 snack). Känns lite konstigt att se på mainstream tv... this is the future, huh? En dag kommer SC2 ha samma tv-space som basket och handboll? För ögonblicket känns det alltid lite awkward, typ, de vet inte alltid vad de pratar om, folk som intervjuas vet inte hur mycket jargong de kan använda...

De varnar för våldsamma scener inför HoN matcherna dock, lol? O.o

What I Wish I Could Say Right

Hi.

Ignore whatever I've written earlier today, I was bored. But there's something I want to say. I've rewritten this post half a dozen times now over several days, trying to find a way to say things right, but I'm giving up. It will never be right. Some things cannot be expressed or shared. I will just state, because it's time to go public:

His name is Kim Jaejoong of Dong Bang Shin Ki, and he has it all. The shoulders, the jaw, the voice, the sense of humor, the eyes, the moves, the style. I will never meet him, probably never see him live considering where I live. That is of no consequence. He exists, somewhere, and for that simple fact I am forever and always grateful.

Always keep the faith.

Mid-game report

Portugal 1 - North Korea 0

I know what I just said, but it's an odd situation. Koreans are Koreans, just like Sweden would still be Sweden even if there were only Sverigedemokrater in our football team. I admit my heart still cringed when the ball hit the net. Sports are supposed to be non-political I guess.

EDIT: 15:10 5-0 for Portugal. Now I just feel sorry for them. But: mission accomplished.

Morning extravaganza

I'm waking up about fifteen to thirty minutes ahead of the alarm now, be it because I've gotten used to it, because it's too bright outside, or because the bed sucks. In any case it meant this morning I had extra time and took a peek at the fanfiction I ran into about my dear Korean boys. I read about a page and then took a solemn vow to never read any fanficion about them ever again. Not because it was bad - on the scale of fanfics I've read it scored rather high in both spelling and story - but because it felt just as wrong as reading fanficition about your friends, without the accompanying hilarity. Instead I've found a subbed Japanese drama series starring my favorite one of them that will satisfy my daily dose of coolness and beauty.

Also, in accordance with the Korean language being prettier than Japanese, the Korean music scene better than the Japanese, and the Korean food tastier than the Japanese (barely), I have now found that the female Korean celebrities are prettier than the Japanese. I do believe I am turning more Korean by these last few years of culture indulgence of both countries - I am slowly coming to love Korea and in particular in comparison with Japan, the two most Korean traits of all. In all but two issues: Korea still has issues with gender equality (i.s.s.u.e.s) and with censorship (the line "I've got you under my skin" in a song was too sexual to be aired on radio -_-). But I'm not sure Japan can be said to be any better with the gender stuff, and them being more leisurely about sex counts only to the benefit that Korean singers can go over there to show off some extra butt once in a while.

IMPORTANT NOTICE
Both the Republic of Korea and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea are in the football World Championship, albeit in different groups - perhaps for the best. Thus far the South are better off within their group, but North plays their second game right now. It's nice to not have Sweden in, because it means no Zlatan, and that I can officially focus all my nationalistic pride on Korea for once. Alas, in this WC, I am crossing my fingers for that South does better than North, that's all I ask. And I hereby request all those unaffiliated with either country to do the same, for me ^^

And yes, it's North Korea that calls itself "the Democratic People's Republic".

IGNORE THE TIMESTAMP ON THIS IT IS WRONG! LOL CAPS! O.o

Manual on data-testing program applied on Qt based applications

Literally:
[This stuff can be useful...]
When you need to call Qt methods from your test script.
For example:
1. when information is not a property
2. when a child is not available through the parent/child hierarchy
3. when the property is an object (say, a model)

How I read it:
[This stuff can be useful...]
When you need to call up all your cute acts from your practiced folder to appease someone.
For example:
1. when you've looked up every book on terrorism, suicide bombing and Islam in the library and men in black come knocking
2. when someone else's kid runs yelling around the train and you're not allowed to kick their ass (but did anyway)
3. when you want to impress someone on the payroll of Hugh Heffner or the likes

Actually I have two more posts I could make, but I think I should probably not.