A lil photo survey

Found this interesting photo survey blog online, and I decided to give it a try. After all, it's not healthy to fill my blog entries with emotional outbursts. Lol.

- Anyway guys, I'm feeling better. I was just experiencing one of my depression bouts. -

1) Answer the questions below.
2) Take each answer and type it into Photobucket (http://www.photobucket.com/, search the images).
3) Take a picture from the first page of results copy the html code(preferably the first picture you see, so it'll be more fun!).
4) It might take awhile to complete this(I've got allll the time I need, at least for the remaining of this week.).


1) Your name: Jennifer


If only that's really me... Pfft.

2) Your favourite T.V. show(TOUGH!!!): I guess its 'Queer as Folk' right now.


3) Your favourite place: Er, I couldn't think of a specific place actually. So I went with, Somewhere where I'm safe and wanted.

0_o.

4) Name your car:



Heh. Geddit? Geddit?! Am I like, a genius or what! That's sooo funny right??

Ok. So I'm in a lame-ass crap mode today. Bite me.

5) Your favourite sport: Basketball (I have more knowledge about football, and I'm a loyal NUFC fan, but I choose basketball since it's a close second favourite, and something I would play.)


6) Your hair colour: Right now, its faded to Light Brown.


7) Your favourite colour: Blue.


8) Your favourite drink: You're shitting me?! This is tough shit. Um, Maccallan Single Malt.


9) Your favourite season: Season of Love... LOL nah, Winter.


10) Name of your pet: How about this... the name of my last pet - Ophelia.

Yes, I named my dog after a crazy woman character from Shakespeare. *Shrugs*

11) Name of your love: None right now... But to recall the last one(of sorts), Dave. Though I'm not sure if I should call it love. Bah oh well.

Mehhh, the Dave I know is so much cuter. :P

12) Your middle name: Danger is my middle name. Hahaha.

Emo is so unbecoming. *Guffaws at her lame self-poke*

13) Your favourite food: Sashimi


14) A bad habit of yours: Laziness.

I'm not as bad. I think.

15) Your biggest fears: Let's go for physical objects... Bugs.

Pretty accurate, actually. Even butterflies. *Brr*

16) Your favourite store: Louis Vuitton.

Well... The question wasn't exactly 'My favourite store to shop at', innit?

17) Your favourite book: I read far too many books to have a favourite. I'll stick to my childhood favourite, Little Women.

Just in case you were wondering, these girls were dressed as Jo, Meg and Beth.

18) Your weakness: Right now I guess it's Gale Harold (Sorry James Marsters, just letting him have the spotlight for now!)

<3

19) Name of your favourite cartoon character: Courage the cowardly dog!


20) Your favourite non-alcoholic drink: Soya milk I think.

Mmm! It goes best like this!

Alrighty then, there you go, my 20 questions photo survey. Most of the pictures were the first one in the row of search results, but there were a few that I chose within page 1 as the picture really had no connection to my searched item.

I did this because my friends were sick of reading emo posts, so for whatever reasons you might want to try this for, do it. It could be pretty fun to scan through the search results.

I hate being helpless.

Friends who know me, or even just read the status messages on my Facebook account, would now get an answer to their question - "Why so emo?!" *Wry grin*

Not wanting to go into details, but let's just say I never had a good childhood growing up, I wished I had a father to love me, and I wished I did not remember vividly how wounds could scar you both mentally and physically.

But I pulled through it. At first, I cheated by putting up a front, which was strong as an iron cast, and somehow along the way I did managed to be strong. If not for myself, then for my family and handful of friends who cares but somehow not that enough for me to dare to offload my burdens and insecurities onto them.

I still have my little outbursts that I could not help. You know those little wooden, hollow birdies that catches water dripping from a source above, and when they are full, they would tip to one side to deposit the collected water? I feel like one of those, needing to have an outlet to deposit all that burden, except that everytime I come back up, I'm still half-filled with water.

I've never been a very good friend. When I was younger, I remembered giving up my last dollar just to make my friends happy, as I did not know what it took to let them know I cared, thus I did it with money and being there as much as I could. Nobody taught me how to be a caring, good friend, because I have never had one, not for a very, very long time.

Alas, time lapsed, and I inevitably grew jaded and cynical, and I thought, "Jen, other people do this more competently than you do. You're nobody's best friend. You're just a good friend, you're just there. You're just not made for this shit. So why bother so hard and make yourself miserable?" The damage was done.

Besides, flattering words were, no, ARE something that always have been a problem getting past my lips. If they weren't deserved, I couldn't force myself to dole it out. Human beings would always prefer verbal assurance of friendship and loyalty, and I guess I do too, but I just couldn't do that. I mean, I would try to express with a hug and physical touch, but since when was that ever enough? I suppose that's the consequences you would have to face, when you are too fucking chicken to choke the words out, for fear that they would get thrown back in your face.

For if that happens, that would be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. And I'm too much of a coward to be able to stand that, even when I see my friends preferring others over me. I'm still in the group, sorta, but not really.

I'm standing on the sidelines, occasionally trying to step into the spotlight, with a well-placed self-derogatory poke at my own expense, or, hah, trying to be the all-knowing One, just so that, my friends might look upon me with a little more respect, a little more awe, earning a little more placement in their hearts. Nonetheless though, the slightest self-doubt would have me scurrying back into the shadows. Even so, I'm not even ready to let go of that slight comfort that I still have a line to toe about.

That's when I decided that I would still try, but nothing's going to make me try as hard anymore. I looked at everything through reinforced glass coating my eyes and my heart, and I tried not to let them get in that easily.

But sometimes, all it took for an impenetrable fort to fall, is the tiniest, unexpected peg taken to it. It would start off with a small chip in the wall that you would ignore, but the cracks would soon spread through out the walls, and before you know it, they fall, and your emotions are not longer safe.

I still try. I still try, because, no matter how cynical I am about life, I'm still a human being, deep down to the core. I don't want to feel lonely. I'm afraid of being lonely. I am lonely. I don't know what to do with this loneliness. I'm scared. And it's this innate fear that had me struggling to float to the surface to take a life-enforcing breath, to not collapse when a weaker version of me would have given up years ago. I'm determined to not sink and drown.

Not yet.

I wish I could be at peace. I wish I can write happy poems, and painless thoughts, for once. I wish, I wish I did not have this capacity to feel so so much for people and everything around me. I wish, that I can truly have someone who loves me because I'm me, not because I'm so-and-so's friend, or because I am willing to do something for them. I wish I was someone's closest and best friend, not in the whole wide world, but at least in the group; I thought I had that for awhile, but I got replaced since last month. I deserved it, though.

I wish I can find someone who loves Jennifer Lim, just because. But then again, who can? It will be so much work, trying to break through my walls and insecurities. Even if or when they do, the results wouldn't be rewarding. Any slightest shit will get my hackles up again, and it just would not be worth the efforts.

I wish I knew for sure who I really am inside. Sometimes I feel I've turned so vile that I'm afraid to psychoanalyze myself. I just feel like I'm slowly stripped of my identity and I'm not sure if I have any idea what I have become.

I hope I would not have to hate myself if I manage to discover that one day. Because if that happens, I would truly have no one.

I hate being helpless, but that's what I am right now. I'm scared, I'm scared shitless.

A little idea...

~~~When you can dream, then you can start
A dream is a wish you make with your heart~~~

In his dreams, it was always night-time; The alleys surrounding Libido were lit dimly with the half crescent moon reflected off the water puddles, and he would be alone, immersed in a sea of people who were zipping by and conversing with words that did not make sense.

He would always wake up in the morning feeling disorientated, recalling something about a night out at the club, a weird sense of déjà vu, and oddly, a lamppost.

---

Walking down the final steps of the club, with the muffled thumpa thumpa music emitting through the heavy curtain drapes behind him, Gale Beaufort heaved a put upon sigh - Another dull night filled with nobodies who gyrated their bodies, glistering with sweat, to the heavy beat of the dance music. There wasn't even a single good catch in sight.

Shrugging on a Hugo Boss butter soft black leather jacket over his sleeveless grey v-neck jersey, Gale crushed out his cigarette under a pair of Prada boots. It was early March, and while he was appreciative of the thawing winter in this God-forsaken place called Pittsburgh, it was still as cold as a witches tit at night.

Sauntering over to his Jeep, Gale gave the streets a cursory scan and a niggling feeling began in the pit of his stomach when his hazel eyes were unwittingly drawn to the lone streetlight across the road that had been the recurring star of his recent dreams.

Emptinesshurtregretlonging

Nearly doubling over in physical pain from the rush of emotions, Gale blanched and tightened his grip on the Jeep's door handle. Taking a moment, he swallowed hard, mouth dry and a bitter, medicine-like taste at the back of his throat. Gale forced himself to shake it off.

"I really need to cut back on the shit that my fucked up disco pharmacologist has been 'prescribing' me," Gale muttered. "And stop talking to myself."

A pause. Gale chuckled at the irony of his latter sentence as he got into his black Jeep Wrangler and revved up the engine. With a wry smile and freshly lit cigarette on his lips, Gale peeled off into the night, leaving behind his little kingdom that is known as, Freedom Boulevard.


I have no idea why, but this 'prologue' just hit me on Monday morning, and had me scrambling for a piece of paper to write it down. I took that paper home and transferred it onto a pocket-sized Hello Kitty notebook, LOL. Moleskine journal for dear ol' Jenx, anyone?

End results were scribblings of unrelated sentences, thoughts, and even names. However, it still puzzled me why I was struck by 'inspiration'. I suppose its the mauldin and lackluster lifestyle that I have been leading recently that had Life coming over to kick me in the arse and demanding me to do something about it.

After dawdling for 2 days, and with LOTS of trepidation, I decided to post this on my blog. There's many reasons why I was uncertain, and one major reason is that I have been encouraged by a few friends to write a story, or dare I say it, a novel, and I was afraid that posting this would decimate all hopes of their bizarre concept that I could actually write.

The other important reason is that, where do I go from here? Thriller? Romance? Drama? Sci-fi? Suspence? Hetero? Homo? Herein lies the problem. My little prologue isn't even long enough - I want it to be at least 2.5 pages on a standard paperback, but so far it's looking to be barely 2 pages. So many ideas are milling through my mind but I am unable to grasp onto one and run with it. Thus, without it, I am unable to expand on my prologue and story.


Is the prologue too short? Boring? Unexceptional? Full of errors? Comments or suggestions will be greatly appreciated. Sigh. Right then, off to lunch. Just be kind and leave me some shreds of dignity, thanks. :P