Fanfaronade of Idiosyncrasy
Fanfaronade – boasting or flaunting behaviour; bluster
Idiosyncrasy – a structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group
I’m not here to brag about my super awesome abilities that I’m sure are non-existent. Rather, I’m here to vain out and talk about myself.
Again. This is
my blog, and moreover, a
personal blog. And when someone says “personal blog”, it means majority of the posts are about the blogger/owner of the said blog, his views about certain topics that may or may not piss the heck out of him. If I wanted to write about fashion, I would’ve made a Fashion Blog, or a Food Blog for sumptuous cuisines, but I’m not a fashion enthusiast and I only eat what I think is appetizing and won’t upset my stomach. So let’s just stick with this type before everything else turns awfully atrocious than where it’s been heading to at the moment.
If you’ve been reading my blog for some time now, I bet you already know something about me; if you’ve been reading the July 2009 to September 2012 archives, we could be
parabatais! (Although, that isn’t a growing
obsession, is it?) I tend to write
a lot about myself. It’s kinda annoying, I know, but I have the stereotypical tedious, boring life that only some retirees have – so
bogus that the only way to give it an extra life is to write about it. My life is like a simple Mathematical equation that even a damn cat could evaluate: My Life = school + school clubs + home + some friends + books +
The Vampire Diaries + hopeless fangirling + blog + more books. Sometimes, Social Life is added to this equation, but that’s
sometimes – never
always.
So okay, right now I’ll be writing more about myself, a quality I have that I know since forever and one I learned last week or so, qualities that make up my indistinct and nameless personality.
I can be the best All-Around Guru. I’m still young to find myself in painful situation, but old enough to at least have an experience in quasi-painful ones. I don’t know a lot of mature things, but I’m mature enough to wind my way out of some of them. I’ve read some books that tackle uncharted territories, so I guess that counts as an experience. I never looked like one, but I can give advices that are true and helpful – about crumbling friendship, releasing one’s walls, frustrating love life, moving on, English grammar, Algebra 101, torn decisions. Some of my advices can hurt people, yes, but some truths are more agonizing than lies.
I’ve learned that people tend to live in a world of lies where they feel happy, and avoid seeing the truth for fear of losing the happiness they have. And I’ve learned that, in the end, it’s
always better to face the truth and be hurt (pain heals quickly anyway), than to believe in what
shouldn’t be believed in. Aldous Huxley once wrote, “Happiness is never grand.” Liberty from lies is always better than being shunned away from truths – even if it would cost you a happiness formed from tall tales.
I had wanted to be a psychologist before, since I like to give advices, but then I can always give advices even if I’m not entitled to. People just need to ask.
I read a lot but don’t study. I just noticed this a few weeks ago. I have so many fictions to read and I
stress myself about it. I shut people and the world off when I read. I dive into the fictitious world of monsters, seraph blades, babies decanted in bottles, a society without love, dying, fallen angels and magic. Sometimes I drown; sometimes I resurface just in time. I’m so caught up in a world of imaginary tales creatively written by fantastic authors, so caught up that I almost forget that I have a more complicated world behind me. There are times that I prioritize my reading first before my academic life. I don’t study when major exams are coming. I don’t give a fuck. I roughly scan a bit and then get bored and weary, so I go back to reading. Mom gets mad, of course. I know I just said that we should live in the world of truths, but I don’t actually
believe in
everything I read. Yes, I believe Hogwarts exists and so is Hogsmeade (no, really, they do), but I’m dubious about the Shadow World. Maybe in the 26th century, babies will be developed in bottles and we would have a
soma-holiday, but who freakin’ knows?
When the world is a little fucked up, I turn to books and escape away from reality. I feel like I’m Tessa Gray and/or Will Herondale [of
The Infernal Devices] when it comes to their love for literature (not their lifestyle – it’s too crazy for me). They live and breathe books, and most of the time, I also feel that way. I dive again and lose myself in the current of creative mind and other worlds. When I feel like drowning, I can always stop and resurface. I know my limitations, even if they kinda hurt.
Books are one of my happiness. I can’t and wouldn’t like to imagine a world without reading and the smell of pages. According to William Nicholson, “We read to know that we are not alone.” I’ll always love reading, even if my eyes won’t. Hence, I’ll
never be alone. (Shameless update! Current read:
The City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare;
The Saddest Summer of Samuel S by J.P. Donleavy.)
These are just two of the thing I want everyone to know. There are more to me than just an unflattering body and wide, curious eyes. Maybe I’ll write about them some other time, maybe I won’t. But this is my blog anyway, and my “My life is a simple mathematical equation” mantra won’t change in the near future, so trust that I will.
I’m kind of weird, am I not?
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Fanfaronade of Idiosyncrasy
Fanfaronade – boasting or flaunting behaviour; bluster
Idiosyncrasy – a structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group
I’m not here to brag about my super awesome abilities that I’m sure are non-existent. Rather, I’m here to vain out and talk about myself.
Again. This is
my blog, and moreover, a
personal blog. And when someone says “personal blog”, it means majority of the posts are about the blogger/owner of the said blog, his views about certain topics that may or may not piss the heck out of him. If I wanted to write about fashion, I would’ve made a Fashion Blog, or a Food Blog for sumptuous cuisines, but I’m not a fashion enthusiast and I only eat what I think is appetizing and won’t upset my stomach. So let’s just stick with this type before everything else turns awfully atrocious than where it’s been heading to at the moment.
If you’ve been reading my blog for some time now, I bet you already know something about me; if you’ve been reading the July 2009 to September 2012 archives, we could be
parabatais! (Although, that isn’t a growing
obsession, is it?) I tend to write
a lot about myself. It’s kinda annoying, I know, but I have the stereotypical tedious, boring life that only some retirees have – so
bogus that the only way to give it an extra life is to write about it. My life is like a simple Mathematical equation that even a damn cat could evaluate: My Life = school + school clubs + home + some friends + books +
The Vampire Diaries + hopeless fangirling + blog + more books. Sometimes, Social Life is added to this equation, but that’s
sometimes – never
always.
So okay, right now I’ll be writing more about myself, a quality I have that I know since forever and one I learned last week or so, qualities that make up my indistinct and nameless personality.
I can be the best All-Around Guru. I’m still young to find myself in painful situation, but old enough to at least have an experience in quasi-painful ones. I don’t know a lot of mature things, but I’m mature enough to wind my way out of some of them. I’ve read some books that tackle uncharted territories, so I guess that counts as an experience. I never looked like one, but I can give advices that are true and helpful – about crumbling friendship, releasing one’s walls, frustrating love life, moving on, English grammar, Algebra 101, torn decisions. Some of my advices can hurt people, yes, but some truths are more agonizing than lies.
I’ve learned that people tend to live in a world of lies where they feel happy, and avoid seeing the truth for fear of losing the happiness they have. And I’ve learned that, in the end, it’s
always better to face the truth and be hurt (pain heals quickly anyway), than to believe in what
shouldn’t be believed in. Aldous Huxley once wrote, “Happiness is never grand.” Liberty from lies is always better than being shunned away from truths – even if it would cost you a happiness formed from tall tales.
I had wanted to be a psychologist before, since I like to give advices, but then I can always give advices even if I’m not entitled to. People just need to ask.
I read a lot but don’t study. I just noticed this a few weeks ago. I have so many fictions to read and I
stress myself about it. I shut people and the world off when I read. I dive into the fictitious world of monsters, seraph blades, babies decanted in bottles, a society without love, dying, fallen angels and magic. Sometimes I drown; sometimes I resurface just in time. I’m so caught up in a world of imaginary tales creatively written by fantastic authors, so caught up that I almost forget that I have a more complicated world behind me. There are times that I prioritize my reading first before my academic life. I don’t study when major exams are coming. I don’t give a fuck. I roughly scan a bit and then get bored and weary, so I go back to reading. Mom gets mad, of course. I know I just said that we should live in the world of truths, but I don’t actually
believe in
everything I read. Yes, I believe Hogwarts exists and so is Hogsmeade (no, really, they do), but I’m dubious about the Shadow World. Maybe in the 26th century, babies will be developed in bottles and we would have a
soma-holiday, but who freakin’ knows?
When the world is a little fucked up, I turn to books and escape away from reality. I feel like I’m Tessa Gray and/or Will Herondale [of
The Infernal Devices] when it comes to their love for literature (not their lifestyle – it’s too crazy for me). They live and breathe books, and most of the time, I also feel that way. I dive again and lose myself in the current of creative mind and other worlds. When I feel like drowning, I can always stop and resurface. I know my limitations, even if they kinda hurt.
Books are one of my happiness. I can’t and wouldn’t like to imagine a world without reading and the smell of pages. According to William Nicholson, “We read to know that we are not alone.” I’ll always love reading, even if my eyes won’t. Hence, I’ll
never be alone. (Shameless update! Current read:
The City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare;
The Saddest Summer of Samuel S by J.P. Donleavy.)
These are just two of the thing I want everyone to know. There are more to me than just an unflattering body and wide, curious eyes. Maybe I’ll write about them some other time, maybe I won’t. But this is my blog anyway, and my “My life is a simple mathematical equation” mantra won’t change in the near future, so trust that I will.
I’m kind of weird, am I not?
← older / top / newer →
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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