Baring my heart.

Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

Tag: birthday

One year

This morning I had to go to the RTA to renew my car’s registration, and it occurred to me that I’ve already had my car for a year. A year.

February 1st, 2011

Cherry Bomb aka Reddy

Those who’ve been following my blog for a while might recognise the above photo. It was my Project 365 photo from February 1st last year, the day I got my car. So much has happened between now and then with regards to my car and yet it feels like I only got it a few months ago. Some people reckon it still has its new car smell.

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I still don’t understand why he found it so funny

Hello everyone. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything relatively original to this blog, (7 months, actually) but I thought I’d try to get the blogging ball rolling again. Let’s start with a few updates.

For the most part of the year, I’ve been focussing on studying and getting my assessments done well before the due date. Any success? I guess so. I’ve succeeded in starting them more than a week or so before the due date, but finishing them the night before (or morning of) is a habit proving difficult to break. (If any writers of the webcomics I read are reading my blog and have noticed that I haven’t commented on your comics lately, now you know why.)

About a month ago I decided I was going to go for runs around my neighbourhood every second day. Surprisingly, I lasted about a week and a half, which is a week and a half longer than I’ve ever been able to keep up. I was quite proud of myself. I keep telling myself that I’m going to try and start again. But then I also tell myself that I’ve got a lot more assessments to work on and I need to make a study timetable of sorts so I can plan my time accordingly and set aside a particular time slot of every day to exercise. But the procrastinator that I am doesn’t want to make the timetables, physical or mental. Nor does the procrastinator in me want to put on my runners and run around for 15 minutes, and find myself gasping for breath. Oh well. We’ll see how I go.

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Beached whale

If you know me, then you’d know that whales are my favourite animal.

I have posters of them on my bedroom walls. One of my dreams is to see Blue whales in the Antarctic (Killer whales, not so much. They eat penguins). I went whale watching for my birthday. I have a “Save the whales, eat the Japanese” T-shirt. I’m against whale deaths or anything that prevents them from doing what whales do.

Apparently though, people think that getting beached is a ‘whale thing’.

It’s not.

Even so, when I came across this video on YouTube, I was quite amused:


 
What I find hilarious, though, isn’t the concept of the (I-don’t-know-what-species) whale getting stranded on a beach, but the exaggerated Kiwi accents. Ah nu. Ah nu! I’m beached bru. I’m beached is! Do you heppin to have a bucket or a huse, bru? I need to git wit, esep. Oh man, I can’t get enough of that dialogue.

Anyway, on my 20th birthday last month, a group of my closest friends-that-I-pretty-much-grew-up-with-and-I-would-not-be-here-without-them bought this gigantor canvas and “signed” it as my birthday card.

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