ding!

I'll make a good researcher because I'm rarely convinced I'm right.

In that same line of thought, I also rarely try to convince other people that I'm right.

Which makes me good in an argument, or worse.

declaration

If I happen to die some time recent-ish, please don't put my edventure photo next to my casket.

poke

Creepy, but I have an urge to hum all the songs in Yoko Kanno's 'Song to Fly'.

Even creepier is I have this urge to put the italised part above in APA format. Until I realise I don't know how. And that's when Julie's face surfaces in a Tim-Burton-esque pool of dark acid. Hooked nose first, and then her librarian-ish blouse ( I swear she has only two sets of dissimilar clothes). And then her wonderful voice, berating me for not being an 'infomation literate individual' and seducing me log on to EBSCOhost because that's the closest thing to heaven.

Let me find time.

dang

Six people wished me Good Luck. I would like to know where all the luck went.

Picture this: The examiner gave me a sight-reading piece in C major with a sympathetic look on his face. He was nice. I do hope he's nice enough to let me scrape a pass by one or two marks.

Anyway when I went back to the holding room, there was a dude at the piano looking as emo as can be. Total stranger, though I know his full name and birth year. I was seized by this Ameliesque desire to do good, so I thought I would transfer all my Good Lucks to him by verbalising it in his direction.

May the Karma give me one more mark.