Nature is weird.

Shark penis(es). What a wondrous thing(s).

Saiyan Fetish

If I had a choice, I'd go for Android 17, even if he's not a Saiyan!

But man oh man... thank GOD for fusion! 

Vegito?! Oh, my panties... 

Gogeta?! Jesus fucking flux... 

Super Android 17?!!?!?!?! I died... 

Never had a big thing for Goku, but the latin american dub is just so wonderful, I have the biggest crush in that mexican seiyuu... even though he really really really doesn't look the part! 

So yep, I've spent the last 3 days watching Dragon Ball Z. 

I haven't slept in 3 days. 

So I might be acting weird lately, hahah, ask my sister, she doesn't know what to do with me lately, it's kind of like when future Trunks kills Frieza and Goku's the only other super Saiyan out there so even if they fight they know they're the only ones who can do it! 

Of course, Teco could never be a Super Saiyan like me! 

Hummmph... I'm more like the Kame turtle... 

Oh! Oh! Oh! That reminds me! Vegeta x Bulma : HOOOOOOOOOT!!!! 

I died. 

Doujinshi FOREVER!

Villains that make you hungry!

Of all the stupid things I've ever come up with, this is by far the best. I've been really thinking about this, it's a serious, serious topic and I've given it a good 80% of my sleep time. 

Which villains look the most delicious? 

Alright, Red Skull. I've talked about him before. It's just seriously impossible to watch this movie without wondering if he's more a raspberry or red bell pepper flavour. 
Either way he looks pretty damn yummy and I'd like to have a lick at that scalp of his. 
Delicious scale: 6/10

Alright, Boo! 
If you're a fan of Mario Brothers, you'll know who Boo is. If you don't, well here's a picture! 
And why oh why? Sometimes he looks like chewing gum, sometimes like jawbreakers. Cotton candy? Mints! Delicious scale: 6/10

Stay Puft Marshmallow Man! Really now, is an explanation necessary? He's a giant marshmallow!! I can't watch Ghostbusters without a huge marshmallow craving! 
Delicious scale: 7/10

Another Mario Brothers character! This one, just like Koopa, makes me seriously crave shellfish! But something rich and creamy like clam chowder or something. Even oysters. Would you hate me if I said turtle soup? Never had it, but Bowser makes me wanna try. 
Delicious scale: 7/10

Killer Tomatoes! 
They're just evil food, mind you not entirely delicious looking but I'm a big tomato fan and half squashed tomatoes are just begging to become bolognaise sauce. 
Delicious scale: 8/10

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! He's not food, he doesn't look like food. There's no food shown in the cartoon, except for bugs. But I find him tasty looking. He makes me hungry, maybe its his fingers. 
Delicious scale: 5/10

Majin Buu. 
Or as I like to call him: Bubble gum. He looks like he walked out of Willy Wonka' factory in anime form. Have you ever seen how bubble gum is made? Have you seen him fight? Frighteningly similar. 
I hands down prefer his slender version rather than the round wobbly one, his body looks more flexible this way and that's the one thing you want from your chewing gum, right or what? Delicious scale: 9/10

HIM. 
Lobster anyone? Alright seriously now, this character's fucking disturbing. Is it even more disturbing that I want him with extra butter? Delicious scale: 9/10

Whats-his-face!
He's the villain from Monsters, Inc. Can't seem to remember his name. 
Crab meat. Crab meat. Crab meat. Every time his claws clank my stomach rumbles. 
Delicious scale: 8/10




Ok, I can't think of any more just about now but I'll be sure to continue! And now I'm hungry! Daaaamn youuuuuu! 

Let's go watch some yaoi now! Food for the heart (and groin) hohohohohohohohohoh!!!!! 

醒来吧 在这令人绝望的孤独舞会上，你像一枚剪纸般渐渐失控了舞蹈，你变得很轻。
时间飞移，不只是在梦里我想要哭泣，这冰冷冷的没有质感的人君将我们分离。这一刻当我停止歌唱当我凝视着你，我不相信在我们之间的沉默里有准确的距离。

醒来吧 在这令人绝望的孤独舞会上，你唱的那首歌渐渐失去了旋律，狂燥而低迷。一瞬间不只是流逝让我感到畏惧，我不能改变你，不能轻易地忘记，不留下痕迹。撕裂了自己，通过你燃烧着迷梦般的神情，那些失落的梦境，或缥缈的记忆使我如此着迷。

我们沉醉，我们卑微，我们在各自的世界里孤寂得坠毁。
我们感激伴随着叹息，只因那情景只能短暂连接我和你，于是跳舞吧，动作再快一些，在轻松些吧，反正结束的那一刻总是要分离。

我一直在寻找着你，承受着你的记忆，直到我们难以再次唤醒。就用结束的方法去庆祝一下。等到多年以后忽然想起，那个黑暗里舞动的少年会是谁？

Dear Satan:

I miss you so much,

Misaki won't say as much, but rest assured, we both can't live a normal life without you.

Dear Satan, since you've been gone, life hasn't been the same, pre death hasn't been the same. They IS all pretending, pretending, pretending. Moi, I feel like dying every second I'm not aiming at someone, at something, aiming at that special Kumagoro-BEAM directed at X, pointed towards a target... by you.

Please direct me, please talk to me.
I remain, moi, je reste...

Talk to me,

Ask me if something good happened,

Ask me.

Maybe it did.

If it did, then ask me again. And again. Ask me again and again until my answer becomes: LET ME BE!

Leave me alone!

I hate you! My heart is killing me for saying it, for asking... asking you to leave me alone...

But DO leave me alone!

Soon I'll be leaving, I'll be going back.

And all those who I've left behind, well ... you'll remain here. How many feet under? Are you asking me? Child, don't be cute. Dehe ja ne... you're eternal. ETERNAL. Beauty too young to speak your real name.

Corsica?

I've loved you for years... but you're not for me to love.
Someone else will come.
And when they do,
Their name will be...
TORI

That's the most beautiful name, the most beautiful combination of words there is...

Tori.

And Tori, my dearest, dearest Tori:

I love you. I haven't met you, I'm not even sure you will ever exist. But I already love you.

The feeling, this feeling that you might exist one day...

I feel like I could just explode.

Your name is Tori. And I love you. And I love you like no one else will ever love you.

Unconditionally, religiously, fanatically, devotedly...

Like birds of a feather... feathers of a bird...

Tori.

Your name is, was and will forever be, Tori.

S.O.S.

Chères Buddha, Jesus, Vishnu, Krishna, Alla et Dieu extraterrestre de la scientologie:

Je suis la seule survivante de l'accident d'avion du 3 mars à destination de Paris. Je n'avais pas confiance sur EasyJet et maintenant je sais pourquoi, l'avion est tombé dans la mer une demi heure après le décollage de Bastia. 

Je me souviens pas comment je suis sortie de l'avion mais moi et d'autres dix personnes sommes arrivés dans une île déserte.

Ça fait déjà quelques semaines que je me trouve seule et affolée. Aidez moi! Ce soir je mange la cuisse droite de Marie et demain je n'aurai plus à manger!

S.O.S.

Am I done throwing a tantrum?

Guess I am.

Corsica is a lot more than I expected. I don't seem to be able to handle it on my own...

Have I said so already?... It's a fucking lonely place to feel lonely at...
I don't think there's anywhere on Earth you'd be able to feel this nothingness.

I've spent months in my room. And now, you can't just call that depression. No, sir. You'd be lucky to feel 'just' depressed here, to find something interesting to do here. Interesting or uninteresting? Anything at all???

Oh my god.

I finally finally finally have the guts to write online and I seriously seriously seriously have nothing to say...

The village is beautiful, teaubivul, feautibul... Corsica is so damn teaufutul...

I can't stand it anymore.

I rather sell myself somewhere else.

No one will ever know just how deep my longing goes. I so long to be away... this isn't a place for me... this is punishment. Self-inflicted punishment. And every time I see how beautiful it is, this sea, these snowy mountaintops, I cringe.

I slowly, oh so very slowly, I feel myself dying every other second.
Just how much can someone take? Of unrequited love? Kami, is it just a superficial infatuation-kind-of love??

Definitely, I tired it. Gods, I've tried it. Corsica is just Corsica. Corsica can't love me back, Corsica can't like me back.

I haven't been able to speak to ONE person out of personal interests since I've been here.

It's been six months since I last talked to someone who held the same interests as I do. Or close to my own points of view.

Every silent night makes me sweat like it's the last night of my life. Silence, I can't handle it. Life in a mountain? I wake up at night petrified. And once I'm up all I can do to fill up my emptiness is eat.

I've been having these anxiety attacks ever since winter hit these parts of the world.

And if I don't get out of Corsica I'll die. I'll die long before summer arrives.

You'd think a pretty snowy hill is pretty... well I'll say, a pretty snowy hill just makes it a lot worse.

There's two rivers flowing past Corte.

I've thought about throwing myself into them, individually, one at a time. If not Restonica, then Tavignanu... I've woken up still dreaming about waking up at the hospital after being thrown into the river.

And I'm not myself anymore...

Whoever I was, back in China, is completely gone. There's no curiosity, there's no expectancy... I'm just here, and if I remain, I'll seriously die. I'll die.

It's been a little over a month since my last entry. Boy was that a sad one...

I'd like to write a little about how my life's changed since I wrote that admission of guilt and regret. Over the Christmas holidays I did a lot of thinking, about me, about China, about my recently broken relationship, but mostly about my future. I came up with a plan, and now I've something to look forward to again. I can't say it hasn't been difficult, letting go of this grudge I've had for my life choices, so many things I shouldn't have done and so many hurtful words I shouldn't have said, but I figured it was time to go on, I'm sure he has too, by now.

Side effects include slight seclusion and complete refusal of ever engaging in a romantic relationship again. I'm getting my dose of romance through manga and fan fictions. But on the bright side, I'm doing a lot for myself, like taking care of my masters admission paperwork, losing weight and cutting out alcohol.

I'm feeling a lot better now, really. The other day a puppy jumped onto my lap and its owner said he liked my odour. Don't know if it's a universal thought but in Mexico we believe someone's odour is directly related to that person's amount of self-love. I'm choosing to believe that for now. 

I'm Ronery

I'm all alone at home, my sister's gone for the holidays.

For let's say, reasons unknown to me, the dining room table is in the living room at the moment, and when I turn off all the lights and open the curtains, I see all the street's christmas lights hanging outside my windows, same level and all. And since the table is right here, I've opened said curtains and I'm writing in the midst of angelic white and a nice warm christmas red glow coming in through my windows. Big windows and a big living room... work anti-clockwise for just one person.

I'm so lonely I'm writing a lonely post. I thought, when I decided to come to Corsica, that I wanted to be alone, stupidly, I thought I wanted to feel lonely, alienated and away from the world. Oh I'm alienated alright, I'm away from the world for sure, but my loneliness has multiplied, and now I have to deal with myself all alone, in the middle of a fucking snowy hill. And it's beautiful, but I'm more lonely than I ever thought I could be.

 Even if I'm surrounded by the tenths. Imagine a doughnut. With a very, very big hole in the middle.

Loneliness is personal, not circumstantial, I know. For some reason I wanted to know what it felt like to feel lonely in a lonely place. Let me tell you O brothers, it's lonely. How dumb was I, you might wonder. Is there an upside to it?

It's made me think of the people I truly love, I think of them all the time, there's barely a handful of them, but I'm missing them every second of my life here. I breathe them. How sad is that? It's disgusting, I look out my window and I see, not 5 meters away, another old fashioned building with iron clad balconies and wooden doors and windows. All lights off except for good ole Christmas sequences hanging off the buildings. Like I said, beautiful. But man, nothing makes you acknowledge apathy like an abandoned building who people refuse to restore. It's either that or a relentless wish to die untouched.

I've often wondered if I'm a city person or a country person. I love Corsica for reasons I can't explain, I feel absolutely complete here, after my life in China. But whilst I'm here, I'm missing China. I'm a city person who misses the country, and a country persons who needs the city. I'm a tragic tragic bad soap opera. I'm the worst expatriate that's ever walked the earth because I'm debating between countries that aren't even my own. I've forgotten my land and I refuse to return 'home'.

My home is where I choose to be. My home is where I can make my bed and flush my toilet. Can I have two homes so absurdly different to each other? Can I love Corse as much as I love China? What is it that is so fucked up inside of me that I can't decide if I want to die alone or if I want to die in between thousands staring at me?

I have to love myself more to answer my own questions. Otherwise I'm enabling my own misery. It's not Corse, it's not Shanghai, it's not Mexico, it's always been me. Have I realised it? Yes. Have I acted upon it? No. Will I ever? Only time will tell. 

Drunk what?

I'm about to take my first drunk shower. I've got class tomorrow morning and my hair is a big mess, I'm sure I won't be able to wake up early enough to take a shower on time, so I'm going to attempt something impossible...

We'll see how it goes...

Shower soundtrack: Anathema - Weather Systems

Moi, Me and Johnny

Me and my weird relationship with Johnny... the skull. You see, he's a beautah, unfortunately, he's far too close to me to be just a simple beautah. I'll describe an example. I was smoking a cigarette just before calling it a night, I lit my nighty night cigarette and was putting the ashes on a regular  glass and put that same glass on the nightstand, it took me two whole sips of my peroquette to realise I had completely spilled my booze all over my bed in order to avoid placing my ashes glass next to my Johnny, who holds a special spot on my nightstand, so yes, I do keep one glass for my booze and one glass for my vice, vice meaning cigarette ashes of course... separately...

I spilled my peroquette (pastis and mint syrup) all over my mattress... just so I could keep cigarette ashes from dusting my beautah Johnny... and now my mattress is fucking soaked.

Wtf, this is Corsica.

A wet mattress is the least of my problems. I'm really starting to question my choice here...

Time for some P

Inner P's, it's what I call it. Or outer, works both ways for the time being.

And me, myself and I try to stuff ourselves full to the brim with P's. 

Attack on Erasmus students in Corsica.

My sister was beaten up last night by a small posse of Corsican high school kids. 

She was walking out of a bar with some friends, admittedly, they were a bit drunk, when they were ambushed by two girls and three guys that were obviously looking for an excuse to fight. Two of our friends, the Venezuelans, were walking ahead by a small distance and my sister and a Spanish friend were behind. So this Corsican girl starts insulting our Venezuelans, in a very degrading way, ordering them to give her a cigarette, and since they didn't smoke, the Corsicans jumped on the guy first and started beating the crap out of him. They pushed away the only other girl and she couldn't stand up again because of a leg injury that was just starting to heal.

When my sister and our other friend turned the corner, they saw the two girls laughing at our friend who was being pinned down by two guys while the third beat him to a pulp. So my sister and our other friend ran to help him out, but they were clocked from behind before they even got there, the Spanish fell to the ground and the girls then proceeded to stamp on his face. With high heels. My sister tried to pull them away but she was smacked hard by one of the guys and pushed against a wall, she stood up a second time since our friend was starting to bleed like a fucking faucet, no wonder, the heel went through his cheek, and one of the girls punched her on the face. She fell down and they started kicking her. 

I'm not sure how it went afterwards, but apparently they managed to stand up and walk away, it seems like the Corsican kids 'finally let them go', and as they were walking away towards the hospital, they could still hear them scream shit like 'Arabs de merde' and so on... 

Let's say it was about 2 am. They got to the hospital, our Venezuelan beaten hard, face unrecognisable, our Spanish friend bleeding out of his eye and mouth, my sister limping with a fat lip and the other girl writhing in pain from her leg. The doctor took one look at them and said 'those of you who are not bleeding, it's not urgent so go home and come back tomorrow at 11 am'. 

By then of course, they had contacted the other Erasmus students at the dorms and they were all at the hospital. The Spanish, the Brits, the Bulgarians, the Americans, the Russians, all 10 of them, most of who speak French perfectly although with an accent, the 'doctor' was unmoved by their pleas and started being a bit rude as well: 'Do-you-understand-the-words-that-are-coming-out-of-my-mouth?' Which of course led to another uproar in the emergency room, but they were just as easily dismissed. When they asked for some ice for our beaten up friend, the doctor laughed and said 'Hahah, ice? This is no ice cream parlour little girl, this is a HOSPITAL'.... 

In a civilised country, the doctor would have called the police because our friends were obviously attacked, they would have had the obligation to take their statements. Not here. They were all sent home, except for our Spanish friend who actually got some stitches on his face. A goddamn hole on his face made with some slut's high heels. The whole bunch of them, my sister included, marched towards the police station, untreated by the doctor, to press charges. It was closed. 

She then came home at about 6 am. I was sound asleep, to my horror, because I sustain, had I been there, it would have taken all 5 of them to bring me down, and I would have at least made sure one of them got their noses punched back into their goddamn skulls. 

So far I don't have any more news, but of course by this morning, everyone in this goddamn town had heard that some of the Erasmus students had been attacked by a group of Corsicans. There's a lot of speculation to whereas they were from the front or not. I'm writing this beforehand to clarify that it wasn't anyone from the front. It was a bunch of idiotic kids, I'm suspecting high as a kite, with grandeur deliriums and no fucking humanity. 

The saddest part here is that probably, their charges won't be taken seriously, and those kids will go unpunished, because Corsicans here make their own laws, and they don't persecute each other, and our friend will have to live with a scar on his face. 

And WHAT THE FUCK with that hospital! Fuck, fuck, seriously FUCK them. 

I'll go to sleep dreaming I was there, and we all started beating that doctor with our mighty fists of justice, bruising every single part of his exposed face, and once we were done say to him: 'Go on, treat your bruises although you're not bleeding, take one single band-aid, I FUCKING DARE YOU'. 

Stu

I went to the mountains today. What a goddamn awesome sight there was. 

Although I did also see a car upside down, nobody was inside, but it had turned on a curve and it was a nasty flip. Kinda creeped me out for the rest of the trip. 

It's snowing in the mountains, hard. Not so much in Corte though, but it is cold as fuck. Makes you wanna eat stew and pastries all day. Satan! Get thee behind me with your stews and pastries! I love them stews and pastries. 

A picture of the mountains on the route Corte - Ajaccio. 

When in doubt, think of Stew. 

Should

I really should stop playing tetris. 

Rainy day in Corte

I met some Corsicans today. 

Well, the hell am I saying, I meet Corsicans everyday, but today pffff, it was the first time I met A Corsican... girl. 

And other than scandalous when drunk, I always thought of Corsican girls as quite shy and introverted. Patriotic, of course, but still a bit timid to say the least. Did I say scandalous when drunk? I meant scandalous when not appearing shy. Hard to read, these girls they are. 

There I was hiding under the rain talking to a Spanish girl from my class, when this tall blonde girl comes over trying to mimic our spanish, the bitch I thought, but then she talked to us in her French and said, dudes, excuse me but I would love to speak in Spanish and so far I can say 'I'm pregnant' and 'I love goats' or something like that. But she could actually speak English, Italian, French and Corsican. She did try to say 'I speak a little Chinese too', but when I said 'Alright, let's speak in Chinese', she backed down. Blame her I do not. 

It's like a speech aid here: 'I speak Chinese'... like saying 'Well, I might not be able to speak my own mother tongue correctly, but I can still go chinchin chun chun chang chang', which I find extremely offensive but well... they're 'french'. Corsicans don't really do that, as far as I can tell. 

But this was the first time I actually met a Corsican who was open to other languages and who could speak them, even if it were just words, I felt genuinely happy. For them, can I say that? I'd been trying to meet TEH real Corsicans, all about Corsica of course, but who'd keep an open mind and who'd be keen on learning from other cultures. It's what I originally thought of Corsicans and until today I hadn't found. 

I would have hated to have been proven wrong. (Grammar ok?)

I did leave them there,  two words after that, since I have better things to, all locked up at the apartment with my candle and my charcoals. Fifty thousand miles from home. Which home? Only time will tell. Though I have to say, China misses me tons. TONS. 

Drifting off again... About that little roof I was hiding under, I left, but I left with a better image of Corsican girls. Not squares. Gorgeous in very physical sense of the word, smart and curious. Extroverted. Outspoken. Patriotic, but in a good way. And I walked away thinking 'If there were more girls like this in the world, with their looks and their island and their height and their exclusiveness and as approachable as this girl was, the rest of us would be out of business in a fortnight.' 

Fortnight, what a funny word.  

Though I bet she didn't have the best taste in music. One has to find the flaws on perfect people, otherwise it's just cruel to oneself. I still gotta say, I found a perfect female specimen and she is Corsican. Ask me her name or address, I've no clue. I knows do not. But damn it if it doesn't make you think about human perfection. Do not get me wrong, I've seen plenty of 'French' women who want to make you retire and open a bakery. But this one, just because she was Corsican, she was towering above the rest. 

Unlike Alizee, damn that vulgar hoe. Yuck. YUCK I said. 

Just FYI, teh Corsican girl, she wasn't wearing 'screw me' shorts. Respect.  

when the Levi breaks

I lefted there some colour in the middle. I'm trying here! The Levee. 

OUch

The sky mocks my scoliosis.

splat

Alright, c'est fini

I did go through some stuffs, especially since the photo kept moving its ass off and all, I made a general  enquete to all the photogenic people I know and got some sweet ass pics out of them, you know, to practise and be pretty and all... just, something to wake up in the morning for...

And if I keep it up I might you know... get somewhere?

Voila le Sebastien

Though when you come to think of it... the world would be a really sad place it if were up to me, visually I mean... people would line up to kill themselves and all. And all. And all. Do I have any vocabulary at all? Or vision? It's all trees and tall people, wtf, Faulty Towers??