Potential inspiration? :O

Ahaha, I just saw a picture of a girl and wondered who she was. Then I realized that it was Tegoshi. He was actually dressed as a boy that time. Forgive me~ D:

Well, anyway~

I tried, journal. I really did. I tried my very best to not listen to the previews of some of the songs on the Tegomass no Ai mini-album. The very moment I saw that I had a chance to listen to them, I immediately turned my head with a little hmph, thinking, “I’m not gonna be tempted that easily.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was clawing at my laptop and clicking on the play button as fast as I could.

I am weak. >__<

The previews are a bit short for me to have a definite opinion, but judging from what’s available, I LOVE all the songs! I think “Moshimo, Kono Sekai Kara OO ga Nakunattara” continues to be my favorite.

Although, I was slightly taken aback when I caught myself humming the melody of “Cheetah, Gorilla, Orangutan” while showering. I’m surprised that I really like it, since it sounds absolutely nothing like a Tegomass song. I think that’s what happens when both Tego and Massu choose to sing low.

This is the only Tegomass picture I have left saved into my laptop. Even though I’ve seen it tons of times before, it’s possibly my favorite Tegomass picture.


(Tego: “Look what I did!”)

In other NEWS, I loooove “Be Funky!”, which is a song by NEWS and is used for Shige’s drama. It’s rather “Koi no ABO”-esque in my opinion. Which is a good thing. :P

People don’t seem to like it much. D: I understand why, since I admit that I hated it at first. But like always, I gave it a few more chances and eventually fell in love with it. I think my NEWS bias is frightfully strong.

I wonder if it’s going to be part of another single or — pleasepleaseplease — album.

. . .

I am now absolutely convinced that my French teacher is a sadistic bitch.

I reeeeeeeally hate using words like that, but I’m sorry, that’s the only word that accurately describes her. She knows — and constantly whines about — how stupid unskilled the French students are. She makes it clear in her tone that she thinks we’re morons.

And yet, what does she do instead of trying to guide us through our struggling?

She slams us with a MINIMUM SEVEN PAGE RESEARCH PAPER ENTIRELY IN FRENCH.

No heading. Cover page required. Sources cited. A full draft in English due in two weeks. One-inch margins.

Seven pages is how long my History homework usually ends up. And for History, I always have a heading and use 1.25-inch margins.  Because I was born a slow child, it takes me around four hours to finish History.

I shudder at the thought of how long it will take to translate seven pages into French. Translating is my biggest strength when it comes to French, but it takes an e-t-e-r-n-i-t-y to do. Seven pages isn’t too long if you think about it, but it is a lot for me because I still haven’t started studying for neither the SAT nor the AP Bio exam.

I think I’m beginning to understand people who choose to commit suicide. The thought of liberating yourself from this suffering is lovely.

Clearly I need to seek help. D:

Aside from my miserable day at school, I remembered bits from a dream I had when The Pest woke me up from my afternoon nap. I’m pretty much nocturnal, you see. I work at night and sleep during the day.

What’s different about this dream is that it could POSSIBLY be a source of inspiration for one of my compositions. I like the setting. It’s definitely different than the usual stuff.

In the dream, I’m a worker at this store. I can’t really remember what kind of store it is. I think it’s a grocery store. But it’s no ordinary grocery store. For one thing, the actual building is an abandoned warehouse. Grocery stores are usually very well-lit inside, but this store is dark and dirty.

Second, the store is in a ghost town of sorts. Not many people live there. I somehow know that the average number of customers we get per day is one. Just one. And he’s usually this huge and bulky dude.

Ah, and my coworkers are the same. They’re all wrestler-type guys, looking like they can crush my neck with one hand. But I talk to them as though they’re my close friends and not potentially dangerous. As for me, I’m sitting on this stool. It’s like one of those stools you see at bars.

Usually in dreams, I act like I do in real life. Usually. But this time, it’s clear that dream-me has an alcohol addiction.

My blue school backpack made its way into the dream with me! :D It’s placed on the stool next to the one I was sitting on. Every few minutes I would reach over, unzip the little pocket, and pull out this small brown glass bottle. It’s very small, just a little bigger than a White Out bottle. On the table in front of me I have a shot glass. But no matter how many times I fill up that glass, the bottle never empties.

The liquid is clear like water. But I know it isn’t water, because after each shot I would tell myself, “Just one more won’t hurt. It’s not like I have a problem or anything.”

My body is kind of shaking. Not in a frightened way, but more of in a nervous way. And I notice that after I down the shot I would carefully tuck away the bottle — even though I would just take it out again a minute later.

And that’s as far as I got before The Pest woke me up.

Going to bed now. I need sleeeeeeeeep.

Let’s end with a lovely Tego picture.


(credits to pornvilai@lj)

Why, you most certainly are. :D

What a perfect letter to hold. He must have done it on purpose. XDDD

Until next time,

~ Mimi :D

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