'That's the plan. rule the world. you and me. any day.'

That Dr. Horrible song is playing in my head. It is, after all, the only song from the sing-along blog I ever listened to. An officemate introduced me to the lovely Niel Patrick Harris' sort-of-show-slash-blog, when we were driving up to meet a client one night. And boy, was the song 'Laundry Day' an instant hit in my musically inclined brain hemisphere.

'With my freeze ray, i would stop the world...'-- Genius.

I love how people could write very amusing, surprisingly emotional stuff when they're inspired. It's almost pouring out one's soul. William Wordsworth said (and i learned this in 3rd yr. highschool) that poetry is a 'spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions recollected in tranquility'. I remember our english teacher asking us to explain what it means. I can't remember whether I raised my hand to answer or I was called to answer, but I'm pretty sure I knew how to explain it. I should, right? Otherwise, I would've remembered an awkward or embarrassing class recitation moment, or our class being sent to the library to 'research', for example (our teacher would do that when nobody can't answer his question--Good times. I loved the library. ;p). Anyway, I remember we dissected the parts of that Wordsworth sentence--defined every word to better understand its entirety. Oh well, linguistics class would come years later in college, but we already had a bit of the syntax and semantics lecture in highschool i guess.

Once or twice, I was able to write sonnets (in iambic pentameter mind you hehe) bec I was so inspired, and I was so in love with the Bard. I still have them--those sonnets--and I read them every now and then to remember a feeling kept somewhere in time.

I'm such a cheeseball. That 'Chicken soup for the romantic soul' book in my shelf is silently mocking me right now. I think I'll never get tired of the Cinderella scenes. And Neruda . And Shakespeare .

And the spoken passion. :)

Words--beautiful words--are undeniably the fastest way to my heart. Apart from that KFC chicken meal (of course), and a sunrise watch on the park bench with a hot
choco in hand and your arm over my shoulder.

I could smell sweet February. And l-o-v-e.



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