I love you!

These days I have an irresistible urge to say "I love you" to quite a number of people.
I wish I could... all the time, incessantly. But people would become desensitized to my "I love yous" and slowly regard them as a greeting or an Alison anomaly.

Therefore, thank you Sam! I get to click on a simple button to tell you "I love you"!!!!! every time I read your blog =D

希望我眨眼，能感动你视线

The figure

The figure danced down the straight expanse of concrete. Her body writhing, twisting and bouncing. Her limbs angular, popping and lashing. The pulsating beat visible in her every movement. Her feet pounded against the ground, her hair swirled and flew. She looked odd, freakish yet her oblivion so entrancing. What tune played in her head, what beat controlled her body?

Tabs and the splitting of them

On a note about boy girl issues, I've been with men that split with the tab with me, I've met men that always insisted on paying, men that had ninja paying skills, men that made me pay. I know if we look at it superficially, social construct demands we appreciate the men that do pay for us.

However when we factor in age and current status, a lot of men that do pay, pay with money given to them by their parents. How about someone that goes dutch with you simply because they cannot afford it. Someone whose money comes from their own pocket and not their parent's?

Which one should we appreciate better? The one that expresses generosity, enabled by external sources of income? Or the one that does what he can, given his own limited resources?

I would not be short sighted. I better appreciate a guy that earns his own keep at an early age than a guy dependent on his parents.

P.S. This discussion is about character not material substance.

Strangers

I looked around me and I realized that I was surrounded by strangers. People that I barely know, people that I cannot depend on. Its a strange feeling being around strangers all the time. Its like a slow displacement... a gradual fading away. I feel like I have exchanged my roots for something that is starting to seem unworthy. I always thought I was made for greater things, made to see the world. What is the reality of being out in the world? Uncertainty, doubt, strangers, foreign landscapes. How long can I live like this? Can I bear to look yet another stranger in the eye?