SO LONG, LIVEJOURNAL!

Yup, I've given up on LiveJournal. What with it being blocked in China, I can't update it from home or anything...I have to rely on updating from work (which is routed through Hong Kong), and that's not a permanent arrangement.

I can still comment on people's journals but I can't see entries if they're locked behind friends restrictions, as all the proxies I've found don't keep me logged in.

Fuck China. Seriously.

I can only imagine all the good stuff on LJ I'm gonna miss out on just cuz of this stupid block.

So I'm going to use Facebook and Blogspot from here on out. All my good LJ stuff is there, and everything after today will be put on Blogspot.

http://vivixen.blogspot.com

Go there. Anyone can comment, and if you need me, that's where I'll be.

I am in a very shitty mood and a long post is on the way... if only because, as you may or may not remember, writing makes me not-so-mad.

I write when I'm extremely pissed, happy, sad, scared, excited, etc... so, really, that means long posts are inevitable, but STILL.

If you're curious as to why I'm pissed, well, simply put, people are fucking idiots and I am one of them and I'll be goddamned if that's not frustrating to think about.

So apparently my rambling entries are a "superb" read if you can stand to actually start reading them instead of scrolling down and being intimidated by the appearance of length. Thanks Jay! That comment actually meant a ton, haha!

(I'll probably be throwing up entries like that for a while, if only because it's nice to get all introspective when you're in a good place in your life.)

The funny thing is that I know people do that…before they even start reading anything, they'll flip through it to gauge the length and then decide then and there whether or not it's worth the effort it's going to take to read it. This happens with books, articles in newspapers and magazines, blog entries, and basically any other place you're going to find a significant collection of text.

I remember back in college, whenever we were given a reading assignment, the very first thing everyone would do is a little math: he wants us to read how many pages? Depending on their own personal aversion to large numbers, they will then approach the assignment as either tedious or quick or not-worth-their-time and so on. So, even before they have read the actual content of the text, they already have a very strong opinion about it…simply based on its length.

Now, stepping away from the textbook analogy for a moment (as the content can occasionally be dry and most of the time you're only reading it because you have to), let's have a look at how this works for "voluntary" reading material.

Sometimes, you'll read a book because someone else recommended it to you. They assure you that it is a good read, that you will be a better person for it, that upon reading it you will gain lots and lots of sex, that it contains the key to happiness and that shiny new BMW Z-4 Roadster you've always wanted. (Man was I ever conned.) Therefore, you consider reading it, no matter the length…though you will naturally choose to read the blurb to see if you really are interested in the topic.

Picture yourself wandering through a store (and for the love of god don't nitpick this section I know I'm not you for fuck's sake just work with me here). You're just glancing at titles off the shelf, occasionally reaching out and grabbing a book written by an author you like, a title that sounds particularly catchy, or a cover that's flashy and cool-looking. You pick up the book for any of these reasons and, almost automatically, turn it over to read the blurb on the back. Maybe (if it's not wrapped up in plastic wrap), if the blurb is intriguing enough, you flip through the first few pages.

To accommodate the changing times, I should probably also add that you get to access things like reviews, summaries, blurbs, and user comments on this nifty little place called the internets.

When it comes to newspapers, you read the headlines and generally only read the articles with headlines that catch your attention. (I cheat and use Reuters.) For the rest, you skim through. In magazines, the process generally goes along the lines of flip-flip-flip-flip-flip-reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaad-flip-flip-flip-flip-ooohthatiscute-flip- flip-flip-reeeeeeaaaaaad (because really no one looks at the table contents in most magazines unless it's like The Economist or something). Short of a lengthy flight or a magazine centered around a very specific interest, very few people actually read every single article in every single magazine that they happen to pick up.

Enter the human psyche. Very few people actually want to read anything unless there's something in it for them. Usually, that' interest that stems from a preview or a catchy title/headline.

The only time you're going to sit and start reading something that you know nothing about prior to the act of sitting down and picking it up is if it looks short and quick.

Which, let's be honest, is pretty fair in all respects. No one really has the time to waste reading a long article about something that they may not even find interesting. So they stick to things that are short and take little time to read through. This way, even if the topic was stupid or sucked or whatever, at least they didn't waste a bunch of hours reading it.

So here's my question: when approached with a long article on a blog or even a forum post, do you scroll down to see how long it is before you even begin reading? If yes, do you often groan when all you see going down the screen is a blur of text and, as a result, often find yourself disinclined to read it?

How often do you really stop to read a random blog or forum post without scrolling down first to check the length?

I ask only to lead to a conclusion on the human psyche. We like to know, in advance, what we're spending our precious time on. For textbooks, we have grades. For books, we have blurbs. For news, we have the need to stay updated. For magazines, we have personal, topical interest. But in the world of blogs, where topics range far and wide across tentacle porn, video cards, the latest trends in scarves, how to ace an interview, introspective journal entries, bored kids whining about life and darkness and pain while posting from their US$1500+ computers, giggly accounts of sexual exploits, gaming expectations, movie reviews, music reviews, book reviews, blog reviews, review reviews…and the most random of rants…it is nearly impossible to know what you're looking at without actually starting to read something.

There are no blurbs, no summaries. Occasionally you have a catchy, informative title but let's face it, seldom do they venture beyond of realms of "lol this is cool" or "omg wtf." Even rarer are those bloggers who categorize every damned blog post they make. Rarer still is to find a blogger who consistently posts something meaningful, interesting, or engaging. So, the best defense you as a human have is to check out the length of the post.

If it's too long, you figure that no one on the internet could possibly post so much text so as to make it worth your time to muddle through. For all intents and purposes it could just be the most inane of rants with countless grammatical, logical, and factual errors. It is, after all, the goddamn internet. Birthplace of things like 4chan, orca stacks, and MySpace.

(Oh yes, yes she DID.)

Let's say you dive right into a blog post without knowing how long it is. Let's assume that it ends up being a whopping 2,500-word post.

Worst case scenario, you waste upwards of half an hour navigating your way though the chaotic muddle of keyboard bashing and reactionary thinking, to the point where you lose a few IQ points and probably get a bit ornery that people out there really think like that. (Even if it's just the internet.) Best case scenario, you surface refreshed from an entertaining, enlightening, informative, and probably humorous read that gives you perspective on something that you'd never before considered.

Run a quick cost-benefit analysis, adjusted for the lolinternetz factor, and generally speaking you're going to find that the chance of a best case scenario surfacing often enough to make saddling a whopping number of worst case scenarios worthwhile is horrifyingly slim.

Therefore, when you see an "lol wall-o-text crits you for 2500 dmg," you sigh, throw down your tl;dr card, and move on with your life, unmolested. Reading 50 words of utter retardation, after all, is far easier to stomach than 5,000 words of it.

Not to mention, some people are capable of being insightful and clever in under 200 words. So, statistically speaking, the speed required to read through sub-200-word posts is so much less than working through 2500+ word posts that you basically have a better chance of reading more fascinating articles if you stick to the short stuff than if you gambled with the long stuff.

It's just more time-efficient if you simply ignored anything particularly long to which you have zero attachment.

Welcome to the human psyche.

I, unfortunately, am incapable of keeping my insights short and simple.

WOE IS ME.

If I want to keep using LiveJournal (and not succumb to the demon that is MySpace), I will soon need a proxy that will let me access and update LJ. The one I currently use logs me out at every single page.

Does this happen with all proxies or just the one I'm using?

Because seriously. China really sucks sometimes.

(I can access LJ now because I'm routed through Hong Kong at work, but if I get a new job that may no longer be the case.)

Thanks!

...I talk. A LOT. How do you put up with me? I mean, ffs shut me up every now and again.

I have been feeling rather...uninspired lately. Well. Kind of.

The last time I did any real work on my book was a good two weeks ago, and the thought of that kind of stagnation is really driving a rather massive spike into my conscience's most vulnerable orifice.

To be absolutely fair, however, my almost inhuman obsession with attention to detail has been far from idle.

Simply put, I've been devoting most of my free time toward writing a much less serious, significantly more "fun" project. I'm currently very backlogged, so it looks like MoB will have to sit on the proverbial shelf for a little longer still. Mostly...I'm just trying to justify that my writing muscle hasn't been just sitting around all lame and unused.

It would be such a pity to see that muscle go to waste, yeah?

Funny thing is that most of my meetings at work (now absolutely meaningless to me, for various reasons) are spent with me scribbling into my notebook rather vigorously. To the casual eye, I am simply taking a hefty amount of notes. What I am in fact doing, however, is jotting down plot points, character backgrounds, organization structures, even sketching weapons...basically all the auxiliary information that I need to drive the story.

These notes have now consumed just over half of my notebook at work, with actual work notes taking up less than a quarter of what remains. (For those mathematically challenged, allow the Chink to light the way: that means that less than an eighth of my notebook actually contains work-related information.) Flipping through them does make me want to get back to the book, but actually sitting down and writing it has become slightly arduous.

I do know exactly how to bring myself out of this kind of rut, and I plan to do this once my "other" project has come to a close. You know me, guys...project-bouncing as always. :)

I was asked the following question a few days ago by an acquaintance: why do I write this book, even when I myself don't expect to see it published?

This took me back to the spring of 1999, just after my family had moved to Beijing, smack in the middle of my junior year of high school...when I had sat down to write the very first incarnation of the book.

The question really should be: why do I write at all?

As with any activity, people do the things they do for their own reasons. For my part, I was never a big writer until I decided to sit down and become the youngest author of an epic fantasy ever. (This, of course, I thought without doing any real research into just how young some published authors really were when they first got "discovered." Gimme a break I was a kid.)

Writing was therapeutic for me. Some of you who know me well or long enough may remember me mentioning a disaster of an incident back in 8th grade, back in the Philippines, one of the roughest years of my life thus far. Simply put, my parents never knew all the details. Hell, my parents never knew shit because I wouldn't let them find out. My sister never knew all the details. Only a handful of my friends know that anything happened at all. No details will be given be here, but suffice that I came out of that incident more than a little overwhelmed.

To recover, I poured myself into volleyball for the physical exertion. I got very good at that game and won the respect of many former "enemies" because of it. But what really helped pull me out of that dark place was my journal.

I'd kept diaries and the like even years prior to 8th grade, but they were all giggly, girly things that I am simply embarrassed to acknowledge exist. After what happened, however, my diaries morphed into what they are today: journals.

They went from "Dear Diary teeheehee giggle giggle this boy was in class teeheehee" to a compilation of disjointed thoughts and ideas. Everything, from sketches to broken song lyrics to word games to travel logs to book reviews, went into these journals. There were nights wherein I'd stay up for hours past my bedtime just to keep writing. The callous on my right middle finger is pretty impressive in size thanks to this.

I took particular pleasure in buying a new journal every time an old one got full. There was never anything quite like flipping through a pristine, untouched stack of bound paper, ready to assault it with my too-hard handwriting and chaotic psyche. I loved (still love) receiving new journals and notebooks for primarily this reason. The desire to fill it is...invigorating. Pressing down on a fresh pad of plain, unmarred, flat paper for the first time was and still is one of the best feelings.

Sometimes I flip through old journals just to hear the pages crinkle and smile a little when I catch a phrase or two that I recognize and remember writing.

But yes, my connection to my writing was forged from a necessity to know myself. To see who I am, on paper, in the purest form I could manage. There were times when I would embellish the truth even in these journals...sometimes I'd picture someone reading it, and I'd want them to think better of me for it, so I'd write something that I felt would impress this nonexistent reader.

Yes. I'm insane. This shouldn't be news to a single one of you.

From this hailstorm of scattered ideas, my current writing project emerged. At first it was just an action-packed fantasy story with weapons and moves described as though they were from Xena's own diaries, but soon it went through a very severe metamorphasis.

Upon entering college, my faithful Cheer Bear in tow, I rewrote the story for the first time. At that point I had actually managed to finish the first book and was well into the second. I scrapped it all and started over, recreating characters and places. It became completely unrecognizable from its original form.

Why? Was it because I thought it was bad and needed an improvement? Nah. It's simply because I knew how to make this "book" mine.

If you read Signet of the Moon, you'll know that there are three principle characters. (Don't worry, that's the only spoiler you'll see here.) These three characters are what I have identified as being the three cornerstones of my personality. The story is admittedly woven out of my own imagination, but these three characters and their conflicts are basically a well-worded (if I do say so myself) representation of what goes on in my own head.

You've got the insufferable, preachy, often hypocritical know-it-all who is overly concerned with pleasing the higher-ups. You've got the likable, humorous, highly skilled smartass. You've got the passionate, feel-everything-to-the-extremes, naive bitch who craves only infamy, recognition, and her own satisfaction.

If that doesn't sum me up pretty well I don't know what does.

You could say that the books will chronicle their struggle through the plot as a trio...not unlike I, as an individual, must face what lies ahead with three very distinct facets of my personality warring against one another. It's funny because so much of the dialogue, while stylized to suit the story, are very accurate portrayals of what sometimes goes on in my head.

Naturally, this is practically invisible to anyone but myself, as I've taken plenty of creative license with it since my original idea. As far as most of my readers can tell, they are three individual characters, each with their OWN personality and style. This is a good thing, of course, as it means I have written them exactly how I should have to make the story interesting and engaging.

So, the story itself was born of a very close study of who I am. Everything else that I do for the book (i.e, the 800MB's worth of Appendix and Supplemental Material) is just me being my nitpicky, attention-to-detail-obsessed self. I swear I've done so much work on the world surrounding the story that someone interested enough could potentially pick it up and create a game based on it. (That's just my inner nerd being hopeful, of course.)

In between bouts of Writer's Block or even just me getting distracted by a side project (*cough*), I do take some respite in the fact that I am still writing. My favorite short story, now truer than it has ever been, is the lovechild of one such adulteration, and it, too, is a look into the kind of person I am.

I used to crave readers very badly, asking anyone to just check it out and let me know what they think, but that's not so true anymore. Now, I just want to finish my books, to get everything down and on paper, not to impress anyone, but because I owe it to myself. I owe it to my 8th grade self, who only ever wanted to show the world who she was and what she could do. I owe it to me, now. If you don't read the story, that's just fine. I enjoy reading it over and over as I go through it time and time again to fish out elusive typos or factual inconsistencies, and that is good enough for me.

Remember when things used to be simple?

...

...

...

...

Nope. Me neither.

陈丽中，您太棒了！你的姐姐对你很有尊敬，我为你感到十分自豪！

妹妹，我爱你！家姐很想你哦！

（我有可能8月底或9月初在Michigan见到你！）

~ GZ

[NSFlazyasspiecesofshitwhohaveshortattentionspans]

I don't need to state that it's been a long fucking time since my last, genuine LJ entry that didn't involve plenty of self-gratuitous picture sharing or site-whoring, but I will anyway. It's been a long fucking time since my last, genuine LJ entry that didn't involve plenty of self-gratuitous picture sharing or site-whoring.

In such a massive span of time, plenty has happened. My circle of friends has since expanded to an incredible size, consisting of people that I would have been dearly sorry to miss out on meeting. I have fallen out of love. I have spent less time gaming and more time outside, hanging out in all manner of locales, from bars to clubs to volleyball courts to parks to my friends' apartments. I have finally made certain career moves that I have been planning to make for some now, only lacked the courage and conviction to carry out before. I have lost weight. I have fully embraced who I am, flaws and all, and accepted that at the end of the day, I am not a terrible person.

The friends I have now, I would never trade in. We grew so close so quickly that it's hard to believe I've only known them for 5 short months at most. I imagine it's all part of the "expat package," part of the life you experience when you go somewhere new, where you do not fit in with the majority culture, where you don't necessarily speak the local language. You naturally migrate toward and get close to the people who are like you, and, because they are so few in number, you latch on quickly to the people who don't immediately piss you off and have a hard time letting go.

Last week I had a bit of a crisis when I realized that, by this November, most of my closest friends will be gone. Yes, I know some will still be here (see Chuck? I totally just referenced you), but many won't be. Or, rather, there's a good chance they may no longer be here. While I am content to stay in Shanghai just so I can stop moving around for once, I know that not everyone is going to stay just because of the friendships they've made. Many of them have goals and aspirations of their own, and often times breaking (or at least weakening) certain bonds is necessary.

For my part, I've been dealing with all this "bond-breaking" all my life. Between my moving around and my friends also leaving because they lived similar lifestyles, I never really had a friend to call my closest or my best. No one really knew or understood me right down to the core, even my past boyfriends. In this particular group of friends, however, I have found a few individuals who know exactly what I have gone through, having experienced it themselves, and I am not willing to let them go so easily, even though I know that we will eventually part ways. Either I will move on, or they will. It is inevitable. It is part of the "expat package."

I have gone from the hardcore gamer I was in college to the casual gamer when I first came out here to start working to the occasional gamer. I no longer spend every day logged into Guild Wars, I no longer spend hours on end in Civ 4, I no longer slice and dice warlords, queens, and titans in my manta to gain my world UT2004 rank of #3 (damn you Midget and Nighteye!). Instead I find myself playing the old games, the games I really enjoyed when I was younger. Granted, I have suffered through this phase before and it will likely pass, but it's nice to play the games I grew up with, rather than trying to keep to the up-to-date, newer franchises that will rape both my wallet and my video card.

I go home after work and, while eating, I will either catch up on the latest episode of something that I have recently missed or log onto an instant messenger or fire up Planescape: Torment/Full Throttle/Grim Fandango (dammit Romain hurry up and let me borrow Fallout 2 already). I play/watch for about an hour, read if there's still time, then usually I'm out the door once more. This is if I don't workout or meet friends for dinner, mind you. My social calendar is full 6 days out of the week and, admittedly, I do occasionally miss the days where I just sit at home and dick around doing nothing particularly productive, but the sweet thing is that I can always just stay in if that's the case, and my friends will understand.

Volleyball is yet again a part of my life, though this time less about the importance of teamwork and more about just meeting new people and playing a game that I have always loved. After a month's worth of Saturday-afternoon-three-hour sessions, I have my old serve back. I'd forgotten how much I had really missed people saying, "Shit, it's Viv, back the fuck up she serves like a cannon." I mean, this comes from dudes who are well past the 6'4" mark. Feels good. Too bad I still can't jump for shit, hahaha.

I recently bought my very first two-piece swimsuit. I never owned one until now because when I think "beach" or "swimming pool," I don't think "sand" or "sun." My 13 years of competitive swimming has me thinking: "WATER." Water, Helen. WA-TERRRRR. Ergo, if I want to swim in that water, the best way to go about that is to wear a goddamn one-piece swimsuit. Plus, my insecurities about my body do not help. Anyway… I haven't worn this bikini out to a pool yet, but I have a feeling that if I do, I will spend a maximum of ten seconds out of the pool and the rest of the time in the water, either hiding my body or showing off my awesome speed underwater.

I belong in the goddamn water, dammit. Why do you fucks think I'm pyrophobic, eh? Because the water keeps me safe, yes it does. I like the rain, I like the ocean, I like everything about water. Damn all you pyromaniacs. Damn you all.

We'll see how that first trip to the pool goes. I will admit: I am quite nervous. My scars are better but they still haven't healed, and I'm more concerned about them than any other flaw I see on my body.

The good thing about that is that I've lost a lot of weight. I gained some back from January to March but now that I have a regular workout regiment and regular volleyball, I am not only losing weight, I'm getting quite fit. I like it and I look good. Too bad the scars won't go away…I think I will be insecure about those until something else crops up that I choose to fixate myself on.

As for my career, well, I have been to only one interview, but it went so well that there's a good chance I'll get the job…and if I don't, fuck it, my resume looks awesome and the interview gave me the confidence to keep right on looking. Basically though this will come down to how much they choose to pay me, heehee. Many, many thanks go out to Michelle for just handing over my contact info, as it basically forced me to put myself out there, and it paid off. I needed that push. Thank you.

That boost in confidence, coupled with a hot(ter) body and a full-on acceptance of the fact that even if I'm not gaming 24/7 I am still a huge nerd (*cough*UNIFIED*cough*) have basically had me sitting very comfortably with myself. A couple of bouts with boy drama, while saddening at the time, have pretty much left me unscathed and confident enough to move on and just be myself and do my thing. I like this feeling. It's new to me. I am no longer afraid of walking through a door that will close itself behind me, because I know that no matter what's in the room I just entered, I will be fine.

I no longer hear my parents' voices in my head, I no longer care about impressing anyone but my damned self, and that, my friends, is a wonderful feeling. For those of you who knew me more than 6 months ago, you know how big this is for me.

Thank you to every single person who's helped me get to this point. All of you know who you are.

On a sadder note, though, much love goes out to Matt. I love you kid, I really do. You are a big part of my life and I will never, ever forget you. I have so much respect for you, for the kind of person you are. There are so many people twice, thrice your age who couldn't hope to be half the man you already are. Stay strong, and I know you will, no matter what.

I kinda have to cut this short right here. There is still a lot to say, but I imagine there's plenty of time for me to get to it.

~ Viv

[ ] I am shorter than 5'4.
[x] I think I'm ugly sometimes.
[x] I have many scars. (Yep. Major self-esteem issue for me right there.)
[x] I tan easily.
[ ] I wish my hair was a different colour.
[ ] I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.
[ ] I have a tattoo.
[x] I am self-conscious about my appearance.
[x] I have/I've had braces.
[x] I wear glasses.
[ ] I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scar-free.
[x] I've been told I'm attractive by a complete stranger.
[ ] I have more than 2 piercings.
[ ] I have piercings in places besides my ears.
[ ] I have freckles.

Family/Home Life
[x] I've sworn at my parents.
[ ] I've run away from home.
[ ] I've been kicked out of the house.
[x] My biological parents are together.
[ ] I have a sibling less than one year old.
[x] I want to have kids someday.
[ ] I've had children.
[ ] I've lost a child.

School/Work
[ ] I'm in school.
[x] I have a job.
[x] I've fallen asleep at work/school.
[ ] I almost always do my homework.
[ ] I've missed a week or more of school.
[ ] I've been on the Honor Roll within the last 2 years.
[ ] I failed more than 1 class last year.
[x] I've stolen something from my job. (Stationery, teehee.)
[ ] I've been fired.

Embarrassment
[ ] I've slipped out a "lol" in a spoken conversation. (I do it to be a dork. It works.)
[x] Disney movies still make me cry.
[x] I've peed from laughing.
[x] I've snorted while laughing.
[x] I've laughed so hard I've cried.
[x] I've glued my hand to something.
[x] I've had my pants rip in public. (Fucking volleyball in jeans...lesson learned.)

Health
[ ] I was born with a disease/impairment.
[ ] I've gotten stitches/staples.
[ ] I've broken a bone.
[ ] I've had my tonsils removed.
[x] I've sat in a doctors office/emergency room with a friend.
[ ] I've had my wisdom teeth removed.
[ ] I had a serious surgery.
[x] I've had chicken pox.

Travelling
[ ] I've driven over 200 miles in one day.
[x] I've been on a plane.
[x] I've been to Canada.
[ ] I've been to Mexico.
[x] I've been to Niagara Falls.
[x] I've been to Japan.
[ ] I've celebrated Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
[x] I've been to Europe.
[ ] I've been to Africa.
(WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK NO ASIA JUST JAPAN? FUCK THIS SURVEY RAWR)

Experiences
[x] I've gotten lost in my city.
[x] I've seen a shooting star.
[x] I've wished on a shooting star.
[ ] I've seen a meteor shower.
[x] I've gone out in public in my pyjamas.
[x] I've pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
[x] I've kicked a guy where it hurts. (Like that should surprise you)
[x] I've been to a casino.
[ ] I've been skydiving.
[ ] I've gone skinny dipping.
[ ] I've played spin the bottle.
[ ] I've drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour.
[ ] I've crashed a car.
[x] I've been skiing.
[x] I've been in a play.
[ ] I've met someone in person from MySpace.
[x] I've caught a snowflake on my tongue.
[ ] I've seen the Northern lights.
[x] I've sat on a roof top at night.
[x] I've played chicken.
[x] I've played a prank on someone.
[x] I've ridden in a taxi.
[x] I've seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
[x] I've eaten sushi.
[ ] I've been snowboarding.

Relationships
[x] I'm single
[ ] I'm in a relationship.
[ ] I'm engaged.
[ ] I'm married
[ ] I've gone on a blind date.
[ ] I've been the dumpee more than the dumper.
[x] I miss someone right now.
[x] I have a fear of abandonment.
[ ] I've gotten divorced.
[x] I've had feelings for someone who didn't have them back.
[x] I've told someone I loved them when I didn't.
[ ] I've told someone I didn't love them when I did.
[x] I've kept something from a past relationship.

Sexuality
[ ] I've had a crush on someone of the same sex.
[x] I've had a crush on a teacher.
[x] I am a cuddler.
[x] I've been kissed in the rain.
[x] I've hugged a stranger.
[x] I have kissed a stranger.

Honesty/Crime
[x] I've done something I promised someone else I wouldn't.
[x] I've done something I promised myself I wouldn't.
[ ] I've snuck out of my house.
[x] I have lied to my parents about where I am.
[x] I am keeping a secret from the world.
[x] I've cheated while playing a game.
[x] I've cheated on a test.
[ ] I've run a red light.
[ ] I've been suspended from school.
[x] I've witnessed a crime.
[ ] I've been in a fist fight.
[ ] I've been arrested.

Drugs/Alcohol
[x] I've consumed alcohol.
[x] I regularly drink.
[x] I've passed out from drinking.
[ ] I have passed out drunk at least once in the past 6 months.
[x] I've smoked weed
[ ] I've taken painkillers when I didn't need them.
[ ] I've eaten shrooms.
[ ] I've popped E.
[ ] I've inhaled Nitrous.
[ ] I've done hard drugs.
[ ] I have cough drops when I'm not sick.
[ ] I can't swallow pills.
[ ] I can swallow about 5 pills at a time no problem
[ ] I have been diagnosed with clinical depression.
[ ] I have been diagnosed with one or more anxiety disorder.
[ ] I shut others out when I'm depressed.
[ ] I take anti-depressants.
[ ] I'm anorexic or bulimic.
[x] I've slept an entire day when I didn't need it.
[x] I've hurt myself on purpose.
[ ] I'm addicted to self harm.
[x] I've woken up crying.

Death and Suicide
[ ] I'm afraid of dying.
[x] I hate funerals.
[x] I've seen someone dying.
[x] Someone close to me has attempted suicide.
[x] Someone close to me has committed suicide.
[x] I've planned my own suicide.
[x] I've attempted suicide.
[ ] I've written a eulogy for myself.

Materialism
[x] I own over 5 rap CDs.
[x] I own an iPod or MP3 player.
[x] I have an unhealthy obsession with anime/manga.
[ ] I own multiple designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.
[x] I own something from Hot Topic.
[ ] I own something from Pac Sun.
[x] I collect comic books.
[x] I own something from The Gap.
[x] I own something I got on e-bay.
[ ] I own something from Abercrombie.

Random
[ ] I can sing well.
[x] I've stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.
[x] I open up to others easily.
[x] I watch the news.
[ ] I don't kill bugs.
[x] I hate hearing songs that sacrifice meaning for the sake of being able to rhyme.
[x] I curse regularly.
[x] I sing in the shower.
[ ] I am a morning person.
[x] I paid for my cell phone ring tone. (Technically; I paid for the song that IS my ringtone...)
[x] I'm a snob about grammar.
[ ] I am a sports fanatic.
[x] I twirl my hair.
[x] I have "x"s in my screen name
[ ] I love being neat.
[x] I love Spam
[ ] I've copied more than 30 CD's in a day
[ ] I bake well.
[ ] My favourite colour is either white, yellow, pink, red or blue.
[ ] I've worn pyjamas to school.
[ ] I like Martha Stewart.
[x] I know how to shoot a gun.
[x] I am in love with love.
[ ] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS.
[x] I laugh at my own jokes.
[x] I eat fast food weekly. (I am totally counting street food as fast food.)
[ ] I believe in ghosts.
[ ] I am online 24/7, even as an away message.
[x] I've not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
[ ] I can't sleep if there is a spider in the room.
[x] I am really ticklish.
[ ] I love white chocolate
[ ] I bite my nails.
[x] I play video games.
[x] I'm good at remembering faces.
[x] I'm good at remembering names
[x] I'm good at remembering dates.
[ ] I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.