Why the hell not?

Dear Diary,
Saturday the 31st of January 2009, 4am-ish

So I was singing in the shower today, played myself out too as a secret agent-ish narrating codenames as if I had been trained in the US marines and I thought myself, why the hell don't I write a book?

Geez why not, I may not be the most brightest kid in Malaysia, and I haven't quite covered all those complex terminologies and blingblongs in the vast pages of the english dictionary,

But I sure do have enough common sense to know that I'm going to face an empire of dancers from all around the world and will need to invest an insane amount of time get crush and walk past them in order to achieve fame, I still am hopeful of my singing classes, it's just something transcendant that's been bothering me for god knows how long, the word.. destiny.

If I had to answer a 'What makes YOU, a no-named lazy highschool graduate with some tiny filing experience in your father's firm, think, that you are capable of creating the best book ever written, that you could even possibly dream of being as big as Harry Potter?'

Oh so simple. 'It is, dear guest, the imaginary boundary between what's real and what's fantasy. Plus, I believe you only get the chance to live once.'

jeebus gawd man, I have to plan a shitload of projects ahead of my day, it's all messed up and I reallyyyyy am annoyed with procrastinating.


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