Awesome Forever Classmates Moments 001

So I said I wouldn’t be able to post until hell week ended, and here I am, typing a second entry not twenty-four hours afterward. Maybe if I say that more often, I’d finally be able to post in time to meet certain fanfiction deadlines. But today gave us (or me, at least) such an emotional work out that it would be a crime not to share it. The happier parts, I mean. Unless you’re particularly fond of schadenfreude, in which case it’s a pleasure to provide you with moments of my torment I think.

Today was a roller coaster of emotions, lots of  highs, lows, and the occasional okay, maybe omnipresent loopy moments. And they were all with these people who, in the course of two and a half semesters, have become a very precious part of my life. Continue reading

From Hypothetical Questions to a Full Blown Story

I have the weirdest hobbies.

Seriously.

It is currently four in the morning, and I am, once again, talking on the phone with my best friend. Having spent four days at home (Classes were suspended due to heavy rains and flooding…and it wasn’t even a storm!) We spent majority of the night insulting each other’s dueling skills in Pottermore and declaring that our Sorting was rigged for the other’s entertainment. (He’s convinced he should be in Gryffindor, I’m the same for Slytherin. In reality, I’m in Gryffindor and he’s in Hufflepuff.) We went through the motions of poking fun at each other’s Houses. It went something along these lines:

“Hah. Lost again. See? You Gryffindors jump too fast into duels. Not like us, we wait patiently for the right time, the right conditions.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time for you to stop with the dueling and potion making? I mean really, your House Points could do without you depleting the already languid flow of yellow gems.”

“…Exactly how many cauldrons have you made explode?”

“Failed the Sleeping Draught again?”

“Gryffindor has rubies, Slytherin has emeralds, Ravenclaw has Sapphires. I still don’t know what gems are inside Hufflepuff’s hourglass [in the Great Hall].”

“I read something about that before. It went something along the lines of, ‘Considering Hufflepuff’s usual House Cup performance, it’s filled primarily with air.'” (No offense to the Hufflepuff House. Just me being my usual snarky self with my best friend.)

But then we hit the inevitable dead end, which wasn’t so surprising, seeing as we had been talking to each other for about five hours straight. We seriously don’t know how we stay up on the phone that long with no particular topic. We were silent for a whole three calls — around thirty-six minutes or so — and we did nothing but listen to each other’s breathing and reactions to whatever we were doing at the time. told you my hobbies were weird.

For lack of topics, my best friend and I ventured into the realm of asking hypothetical questions ranging from what we were reading then, to visual novels, and to eroge (yes, my guy best friend is comfortable ennough to discuss eroge with me).

And then, since I was reading a Tom Riddle era fanfic, I decided to ask him a hypothetical question that went something along the lines of, “If you were to fall deeply, madly, obsessively in love with a Dark Lord in the making, a sociopath (I was reading something about sociopaths, The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout) who is not capable of loving, and is very much in every sense, except time and name and gender, like Tom Marvolo Riddle, with the same mass murdering tendencies, what would you do?”

(It was really meant to be a confusing, somewhat run-on statement, and meant to be corrected by the other. Don’t ask. Grammar Nazi giving another Grammar Freak some grief.)

And of course, that led to several more questions.

And a longer discussion.

The conversation has been going on for a good two and a half hours already. And I have several hours’ worth of his fantasies, musings, and suppositions. It would make for good story material.

And, of course, blackmail.

It’s really amazing what boredom can do.

It’s a Fun Time >D

My first class today starts at 7, ends at 10, and is followed by a 1PM class.

Or at least, it was supposed to.

One of my classmates had just come in. He’s our reluctant unofficial class “president” ’cause he looks like such a responsible bloke that most of our teachers and both our sensei — that is, our Japanese language professors — channel important announcements through him and give him the responsibility of collecting papers and dropping them off at the department. He was also the one who told us sensei couldn’t come to class that morning.

And so he was met with whoops, complaints, and offers of food.

He shrugged, said he had been told of it last night, but wisely decided to come to class anyway, since it wouldn’t have been fair to those of us he had no contact to. And it was fun, too. Class bonding during majors is a major plus since we’re all just fun people pretending trying to survive a rather cutthroat course (or at least, that’s how we see things but come on, all courses are like that). And we have a habit of bringing food to share to the whole class. Wherever we are.

So now we all have our laptops out (we have a subject where having a laptop is mandatory), blogging, tweeting, chatting, listening to music, eating, and somehow doing our own things together. And yes, I know how contradictory that sounded. It’s another one of my guilty pleasures, spending time with last year’s newly found friends. (I still nearly always answer “Freshman” every time I’m asked what year I’m in.)

I love my blockmates. 😀

Right, now excuse me while I go prepare my brain to decide between watching Korra and Hana Yori Dango the Movie. And actually get around to typing the last part of the first chapter I’ve written down.

Guilty Pleasures

Photo hosted at justgirlythings.tumblr.com

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I talked to my best friend tonight.

We’re both in college now, finally, but we haven’t seen hair nor hide of each other in the three weeks that we’ve been in school. I miss the bloody git. And I think, somewhere deep down — really, really, deep down — he misses me too. He denies it, sarcastically agrees, or says something vague alluding to it, but I know he does. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be calling me at random times at night and in the early hours of the morning.

Like right now.

And damn, I just realized how much I really missed having him around — flinging insults left and right, bickering about whether Clerith or Zerith was the Final Fantasy VII pairing, call me a creep for taking pleasure in observing people, and trying to break my neck just for the fun of it.

Just being there, not even really talking as much as knowing that the other is there, kind of really makes my day. Even if my day hasn’t really started yet. Even if I have to face another mound of homework. (I envy his freshman status; he doesn’t get as much torture schoolwork)

Even if he did end up sleeping on me.

Because if I was going to be honest about it, I’d be all creepy and say I’m reassured to just hearing him breathe at the other end of the line. It proves that he’s really there, real and very much alive, not a figment of my overactive imagination that my mind conjured up on my fifteenth birthday as a consolation gift of sorts.

So go on, Bryan. Just keep sleeping. And breathing. And living. And just being you.

It’s a guilty pleasure of mine just observing these things.