Baring my heart.

Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

Tag: story

Pinterested?

Today I discovered Pinterest, a photo-sharing website stylised as “an online pinboard”. It seems to be a classy, sophisticated version of Tumblr (I think to sign up you have to be invited by a current user. This is probably the strategy to keep TB’s away). On their homepage are previews of some of the things that have been “pinned” there so far.

Here are two handfuls of my favourite images:

 
coraline cookies

If you click through to the original post from the one on Pinterest, you’ll find a recipe for making chocolate-covered cookie buttons! Definitely gonna try them one time.

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Let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yeah’, and your ‘No’ be ‘Nah’

Greetings fellow Earthlings! I come to you, after many eons since my last visit, to bring you news of mediocre significance — the story of my life.

Phewwwww, what a lame intro, Danica. Only aliens talk like that, and it hasn’t been that long since your last visit, since you posted last week. Duh.

Anyway, I’ve been up to the usual, ordinary, day-to-day stuff. Bein’ a couch potato and the like. Sleeping in, stayin’ up late. You know the drill. Here are some stories;

You may have read my previous post about my churro-making fail where I blabbed about how I made churros with an icing pump which resulted in my churros looking like French fries. If not, then go read that first because it’s sort of an intro to the story I’m going to share now.

Tonight, I decided to make churros with my brand new piping bag. And with cimmanin (I didn’t have any cinnamon when I made my French churros)! Of course, I used the same recipe as before. I didn’t wanna risk ending up with too many leftovers, so this time, I only doubled the recipe for my family.

It was a million times easier to push the dough out of the piping bag rather than the icing pump. I guess it was because the piping bag was made of a much more flexible material than that of the pump. I got a little too excited squeezing out the first five or so churros that they ended up being quite long. And there were some that I burnt on one side because I had forgotten that they had been frying in the pan for a while already. No matter. I’m happy with the result and they were pretty darn delicious.
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Once upon a time

I used to watch videos by Charles Trippy for a while earlier this year, and while browsing some of his older stuff on YouTube, I came across this video. Basically, what he did was he started off a story and from the various video responses he received from other YouTube users, he continued that story till “The End.”

Sometime in May, I had this wicked idea of putting together my own story, in a way similar to how Charles did it. But instead, I’d do it on the (not so) beloved Facebook! So I wrote a note, typed up a brief explanation and tagged as many people as I thought would be interested in participating. Out of the 27 people I tagged, 14 people participated. Thanks to all of you. You kept me laughing at basically every word when I was in the library supposedly studying and doing assessments.

So, here’s the story, complete and short as it is. I didn’t touch any of it — this is what my writers wrote. The only changes I’ve made are grammatical ones and such. I’ve also had to add full stops (/periods) where people just kept using commas over and over and over and over…

(Also, here’s the link to the original note, where all the action happened. If the link doesn’t work, befriend me on Facebook first.)

One day, while walking through the forest, I farted while playing my flute, and I discovered I had the ability to hit two musical notes at the exact same time out of opposite ends of my body.

After walking for a while, I reached the edge of the forest. I gazed into the distance and saw the enchanted town of Dolphinian where all the pixies were emo and bled pixie dust. The unicorns, however, were drug addicts, shaving their unicorns and sniffing it like cocaine.

While this was going down, on the other side of town the purple monkeys were singing, “I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky,” but were absurdly off-key. So, I corked each purple monkey’s mouth with the fist of the purple monkey next to them.

That was when they started turning blue.

Out of nowhere, the monkeys ate their tails and sang with joy about their blue bodies and nails and face and hair.

Then, a tree came along and jumped onto a river and they had kids.

Then the cow went sideways and ate all the fish.

The boy cried, “Help!” because he got stuck in a toilet bowl, so I took a picture of him.

But then, I woke up.

Realising that I had had the weirdest dream, I noticed something in the corner of my eye.

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Comments, Jeans and Scarves

I’m finally starting to get the hang of WordPress, and there’s this thing called a “Dashboard” that basically tells you everything that’s going on. The dashboard of your car tells you your speed, the time, the radio station you’re listening to, the volume of the stereo, how much gas you have left, etc. The dashboard of WordPress tells me how many posts I have, how many comments I’ve received, how many times my blog has been viewed, the recent posts I’ve made, the recent comments I may have made on other blogs, blah blah blah.

So I logged on to wp.com to post a new blog and clicked on Dashboard in the task bar to eventually realise that I could’ve just clicked New Post right next to it, instead of going the long way as I was doing. But while I was on the Dashboard, I decided to have a look.

WordPress provides me with my blog stats – number of views per blog. And this is what I found: My most popular blog is Moving forward, with 43 views. How many comments do I have? Two. My second most popular blog was I’m still alive. I think with 19 views. Comments? Zero. Next popular? Opening up, which was my first real blog, and has 12 views and no comments.

What’s the point of me stating these facts? I thought I had like, 5 readers, 8 at the most. So, either my blogs are so good to read that my handful of readers keep coming back to them, or my blogs have been read by more people than I thought.

Why should this matter? Because I thought no one was reading my blogs. Views don’t matter to me, it’s just a number. I tried to make a pageview count on another site jump from 999 to 1000 by refreshing the page over and over, and then going back to the page later on in the day, but the following day I went to the site and it said 1001. It really pissed me off, and since then, I ignore counters. But if WordPress is telling me I’ve got so many views, then why do I feel like no one’s reading?

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Moving forward

Something happened today that made me smile for “no apparent reason” long afterwards, and it’s made me realise that there’s more sunlight in my life than I had originally thought. So I want to share =)

I walked up the platform at Parramatta station to find a place to sit while I waited for the next train that would stop at Mount Druitt. I had to “walk down” because I wanted to get on the carriage that would stop right in front of the steps, and I wanted to sit because I had to wait a long 15 minutes. I found a place to sit, but I was hesitant because it was between a young man and a much older gentleman, and I would’ve preferred to have the whole bench to myself. Even so, I plopped my butt down between them because I didn’t know whether either of them would get on the next train or my train (the next train went Richmond way), and I didn’t want my legs to tire.

So I sat and waited for my train, listening to my iPod, with the volume high enough so I could ignore people talking around me, but low enough so if someone did start talking to me, I’d hear them. And also, I needed to be able to hear the station people on the loudspeakers. Then, out of nowhere (I make it sound so dramatic xP), the young man next to me asks whether I go to uni, while pointing at the Australasian Business Statistics: University of Western Sydney Edition textbook that sat in my lap. I answered with a timid, “Yeah,” and he asked whether I was studying Business. Once again, but with a little bit more confidence, I replied, “Yeah, I do.”

The young man then went on to ask me whether I was doing an MBA, but since I still had my headphones in my ears, I thought he said “NBA”, which made me wonder why he was suddenly talking about basketball. So I pulled out the headphone in the ear nearest to the guy, and said, “What?” How rude of me. He asked again, and since I had no idea what it was, he explained that he was doing a Masters of Business Administration. I wasn’t doing that, so I said, “No,” and told him I was doing a Bachelor of Business and Commerce. I asked if he was an international student, noticing that he had an American accent, and he confirmed my suspicion, mentioning that he was from the U.S.

I can’t remember the details of our conversation that followed, but we chatted about how he was staying in Sydney West with a host family while he was doing his Masters here, that I lived in Sydney West, and that we’d be catching the same train.

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