The Pointer
Went to catch the latest instalment of the X-men movies.. it wasn't as good as the previous 2. However, being a fan, I still can't say that it was bad.
However, the movie did trigger some subconscious thoughts that played out in my dreams. After the movie I proclaimed my desire to be a mutant, and to be called Pointer. My powers: to kill, annoy or ridicule people simply by pointing at them. My first victim was obviously my girlfriend. Thanks for being a willing test subject hon. She's permanently insane now, and she's been hiding in the corner of her room for the past 18 hours in a catatonic state muttering "No more pointing.. no more pointing.."
Last night, I dreamt that there were so many things that could be accomplished by pointing.
GROW BASTARDS GROW!!!!
YOU ARE FEELING SMALL.........
THIS IS POINTER PROBING YOUR ANUS (VIEW FROM INNER ANUS)
Should I Keep My Secrets?
I know, it doesn't look like much at all, but it did hurt for a substantial period of time. Of course, there were times whereby I was laughing and wincing all at once. All in all, this was really an interesting experience of pain.
Before I got comfortable on Sam's chair, they were telling me how painful it was going to be, how much I was going to regret it. Of course, I've heard of urban legends where pieces on the ribs were never finished because of the extreme pain. However, in all honesty, it's not that bad. In fact, I recommend that everyone have at least a 5 inch by 5 inch piece tattooed on their ribs. Once you've accomplished that, you can finally show people that it's not all that bad.
Of course, there's another factor. Dear soph was there with me throughout most of the session, and I must have gotten some comfort from her presence.
After the session ended and poor Soph missed that particular episode of Lost and I ended up not going for wakeboarding mainly, or partly, because of my new prize, there came the daunting task of having to reveal my gem of a demon to the family at Stratton Walk.
Of course, Bagel took to it immediately. Either that, or he took no notice of it at all, the hairy stinkball.
For the first week, miraculously, I hardly bumped into my parents, and all was well. I started getting less and less conscious of it as the second week crept along, and then I started wondering when my little secret would finally come to light.
I've just finished reading Sophie Kinsella's Can You Keep A Secret, and it did get me wondering, how many secrets do I keep when I'm blogging? Of course, to avoid the road to perdition, I shall stick to the context of a personal blog.
It's difficult to truly define the nature of a secret, especially when people who know you are reading your entries, and even more so when some of them are directly or indirectly affected by it. Some secrets become secrets simply because you're not allowed to express them to just one person. It's rather annoying really... like how I would love to just come here and tell everyone how much I wanna .... but no.. I can't... because there are stakeholders who would be emotionally mortified if I said anything more.
Other secrets, though I really feel like screaming them out to everyone out here, just cannot be let out, for the only most important stakeholder is me. And my life will be at stake. So no.
So it's a wonder when secrets will start to slowly reveal themselves. I've often found that when I get comfortable with a secret, and it no longer really has the status of "hush-hush", I tend to let up a little, release the stranglehold on my secrecy chords. I'm starting to feel that this is one of those nights.....
Just take the case of my new project. How my parents found out about it was when I heard Baby Val cooing, and I got all excited about seeing her. I walked into my parent's room without my shirt on, and there. Actually I doubt I'm going to get it half as bad as Hee Jung, since Butcher's not around anymore.
However, there are always those secrets that will create misunderstanding due to varying interpretations. Dangerous, these secrets are. So the ultimate question remains, should I just learn to live comfortably with my secrets and pretend that I have nothing to gain and everything to lose from spilling it, or should I just take the gamble, and spout it out of my hairy arse?
Well, whatever it is, I think it should be fair to say that I ought to defur my hairy arse before I continute with any spouting.
