let lemons be angry

After attending a three-hour lecture on Magic Realism, I think I have always loved it as a genre. It's about magic but not quite the way fantasy is. It's about the perfectly normal kinds of magic, such as in Amelie.

But I do not love three-hour lectures, especially by lecturers who choose not to use the microphone, and when I'm surrounded by people who argue that Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings should be considered Magic Realism. After a whole day of information-intensive classes, such torture cannot be abided, and so will not be. Just a click and it's off my timetable. A pity too, because I think I would enjoy the class in another time and setting. It's literature, after all.

--

I have finally sprawled myself out on the grass roof of the new building to stargaze. It was a dusty-pink and milky night sky, but the grass was clean and dry (albeit spiky) and such a logical thing to put on a sloped roof. We lay on our jackets with waffle wrappers at our feet, and talked just as we'd planned. Seems like as long as people plan to talk, they will find things to talk about. And the more often they talk, the more they have to say. We'll bring Scarlett there one day, somehow.

I like our GG talks, because being honest is so new to me. And because we are really growing, five storeys at a time. If you've seen me change visibly, I've seen you change just as much too. Who knows where all our discussions will lead? And this goes for all those who tune in to my real life drama serial, whose drama serials I am also hopelessly addicted to: let's finish this race well.