Maybe I'd be Happier in Asia

Remedy for a boring Hong Konganese film (2046 - oh, I had such high hopes! Yes, I walked out) = good Chinese food.

Dumplings from the Dumpling House and, well I couldn't get Tsing Tao at my local so I settled for a Singha. Racist, I know, but it made me happy.

I am developing a complex because my boyfriend doesn't laugh at my blogs, he only laughs at his friends'. They get "ha ha ha ha ha" and the snorty breath-out-the-nose laughs and evoke such reactions as "brilliant" whereas I get the silent treatment. You know when you've just seen your friend suck arse on stage or in a suck arse film and you just say nothing to avoid lying or saying something down right crippling? Yeah, well I get that.

Am I insecure? Maybe

Definitely sensitive.

Anyway, stuff it, I'm not going to stoop to superficial boy humour. Must stay true to self. Must...keep...writi-

Bugger it, I'm going all silent for a while. I'm going to sit in the corner and sulk. No I'm not, I'm going to drift around the park all Japanese and floaty and ethereal, staring at the sky silently, whispering things and blowing dandelion fairies from my fingers.

I may not be back.

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