EPTIf you're unsure of what this blog is about, it's just generally food for thought [of my day] so 1. ease back and get out your utensils, 2. don't fill up on bread and 3. tip your waiter with your own thoughts or sentiments.
Thanks
Winter Parmesan and Myself, Tortellini
Effeminate Diaries
Y'know, whenever I begin to type or write anything, no matter how poor the handwriting, the sloppy cursive or the poor punctuation, I always hear the narration in a soft docile voice; a Morgan Freeman or an older Peter O'Toole. I always hear this voice of confident dictation, a modest knowledge that what he is reading, despite how poorly expressed, viewed or opinionated, can be said in a way that can be truly met within reasoning of the listener and felt by the truly passionately interested.
But that's how it goes in my head, a sign of arrogance? Perhaps, but it makes me feel better as I dab each key with the sweat of my fingers, metaphorically speaking of course. I'd hate for my fingers to perspire profusely at the very thought of typing these overly-drawn out sentences, only to ramble on about literally nothing; a form of dodging the overall goal of my blog entries or even blog in general.
Did you read that in one breath?
As you read this, you are probably expecting a typical girl blog. One that stems with the problems of generally encountering the other (and not opposite) gender due to one's potential inability to make the first move, in fear of an outcome that will occur with or without the confrontation of said writer. The array of problems one faces is rather daunting, always featured with characteristics of the female, her relationship to the writer and the writer's motivation to getting to know her, often innocent yet one always presume there is sexual intent (but not without the self-reassurance that the writer is a gentleman of course).
As I am typing this out. I have a female in mind, but not for the same reasons you would think. Nah, I type this out and I found myself in a recurring position. A peculiar one that seems come back a lot. It's bothersome because I don't have the mustered courage to really do anything and in reality, the perceived notion of my intent would be misinterpreted, similar to perhaps an adult approaching a little girl with a balloon and some pieces of candy.
Have you ever come to these days, these moments of serene resolved nature. Where everything and anything that is remotely interactive seems to phase past you, barely distorting your field of appreciation and view. Today I had a 3-hour class of classical sociological theory, the theories of Sociology, Hobbes and the Leviathan were blathered non-stop from a rather eccentric, short and spunky teacher. Her age has begun to show as her hair toiled like cobwebs in an unused shed. Her personality contradicted her assumed age, and it gave color to the rather dull room, veiled behind hideous drapes, blocking out the sun that tried to spilled beyond the window sills. The teacher was in the front, yet... my eyes were in the back, just gazing at the street that laid still for me to dream about.
For years in my life, I wanted moments of normality. A normality portrayed and scripted by t.v shows and movies I've inducted myself to as a child. There was something pure and simple about what I was looking at: the outline of light and shade splitting the road? The muck and dirt staining the porches that laid still for young children to loiter about?
Figure this:
It was very similar to that. What do you call that? What do you call a moment like that where trivial conversations remain afloat, a perfecting detail in a simple diorama-like scenery.
I was confronted again with the same feeling as I entered a restaurant at 3:00 p.m in the day. The summer air was crisp, cool, enticing me to stay even more outside as I teased myself only for a moment to nourish the other organs of my body: the ones who couldn't quite feel what I can't type to you now. I sat at this restaurant, ordered whatever looked appeasing to my demanding organic overlords and simply ate. Yet, I stopped, just for a moment, and looked around. Sighed in this relief that this dream of mine, a simple one at that, was being fulfilled. The music, muttered generic lyrics no one really comforted themselves too and the restaurant was empty. Purely empty, no staff to be seen, no other customers bustling in for their own commands and needs. Just me and this hallow social ground, deserted before the night rush, before it bulges with social gathering and aiding further advancement of social structures and relationships among peers.
![[image loading]](http://www.hermann-uwe.de/files/images/restaurant.preview.jpg)
Essentially how it was, with color
So that was the kind of mood I was in. This sort of third-person/observer mode where I say nothing, do nothing, just coil my hands with one another and smile in pleasure. Sure, there was plenty to think about: my past, my future (which is in turmoil), but it all dissolved, erased itself in the damp sand of my mind while my eyes just read the word like a book, basking in its serene natural state as if each and every part of it made sense and flowed fluently like beaches and oceans.
Why the title? I've come to start appreciating women. Ha, what an odd statement as if I've gone homosexual and have reverted to an original state of heterosexuality. No, not quite. What I mean is that lately, I've been glancing over at a female peer in class and simply wondering: what would she be like if she smiled. I bet I could make her happy, I bet she'd look absolutely gorgeous and sincere if she smiled and I genuinely mean what I ponder alone. This has been going on increasingly more since the start of my high-school.
For instance, I look at this one female and right off the bat, I can assume I'm not attracted to her whatsoever, however she looks absolutely fabulous. Her entire ensemble is simply admirable and I note the little things she tries to do to adjust any faults she may personally feel unsure of: She has a slender body, not quite an hourglass figure, but you can tell she seeks it by her choice of the "supportive" bra (seriously, the bra is trying a little bit too hard). There's a cliche beauty mark right above her lip, yet tucked beneath the cheek and glossed over by make-up, intended to smooth the complexion of her facial skin. Strong, sleek and dark hair radiating shine and tender care she pays especial attention towards. What's also nicely done is her lips, pecked with a peach tint and perked for just about any engagement: romantic or polite. Finally, moving up, we note her eyes, just a fair bit small (perhaps due to her squinting because she is sitting so far in the back) and narrow, but delicately retouched to perfect a hint of detail in her iris, a hazel color, moist to reflect clearly what she is looking at.
This is only but one example. There's another female in my class, not quite as superficially perfected. A bit overweight and her choice in clothes are one that puts less emphasis on her body and more on her overall comfortableness about herself as a whole. The moment she sits, she engages in a conversation with literally everyone surrounding her with a smile, a tilt of the head and letting her hair, usually curled to curtain her dashing face, dangle loose. Dancing to the profound intelligent conversation she was convey to the gentleman who was incapable of keeping up (seriously, you don't think Leviathan is an exaggerated form of social contract theory?). Her vanilla hair, matched with her pearlescent eyes paled in comparison to her laugh and smile. A soft giggle, almost whispering with guilelessness and joy gave a warming atmosphere around her, almost competing strongly against the sun that singed my skin the moment I looked towards her direction.
They're just all lovely. There are, of course, exceptions. Promiscuous ones, but I kind of don't want to get into it. I just enjoy the narrow-minded thought that women are diplomatic, enjoy the sweet moments of simple conversations, of portraying an emotional intelligence (a valid and powerful form of intelligence) and honest with everything. Yes, I know that is perhaps a small portion of females, yet... I can't help but make the most positive sweeping generalization of one gender everytime I see females that are just blatantly straight-forward about them physically.
To end the day, got myself some sushi and brought it home:
![[image loading]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v713/Xeroxer/PC170025.jpg)
By the way, am I alone in this sort of thought or feelings?
It just felt like a city today. Even at 3:30 a.m in the morning, I look outside and I can't help but feel like I'm in this magical place of glimmering winks of artificial light. Any moment now, the city will whisk me off my feet, fly me through the skyscrapers that peer from above watching me mad-dash to my class in and out through its cracks and creeks.
Here a song:
P.S: Gotta complete the following:
- Improve commentating/casting
- Complete map-section on Liquipedia ( I'll get to it soon, I promise D: )
- Contribute to the SC2 Strategy section
