• adherence to one's oaths of loyalty
• acceptance of certain rules of warfare
• adoration of a certain lady for purposes of self-improvement (The idea that by revering and acting in the name of a lady, the knight would become braver and better.

Courtly love - had its source in the religious cult of the Virgin Mary. In its ideal form it was nonsexual. A knight might wear the colors of his lady in battle, he might glorify her in words and be inspired by her, but she was in a way "above him", she remained, like the Virgin, inviolate on her pedestal.

Back in those days there was a code. A code of honor. One would not attack someone unarmed. One would only take as much as one gives. One would view all as equals and not discriminate. One would keep the loyalties of brethren. One would protect the defenseless. One would defend a lady's honor to the death.

Does such a code still exist today?

I would say so. I have been privy to its manner of existence ever since I came into contact with this band of brothers. Some magnetic force keeps my strings vibrating around their mass. Like an audience attracted to the on-set chemistry of two players, you just cannot seem to take your eyes off the screen. You do not want to miss a thing. If one cannot live the life they so desire, one must be content with just watching others live it. A woman cannot be a perfect knight. She may wear the guise of one from time to time, but she cannot be a true knight. So, I must be satiated with watching Sir Galahad, Sir Gawain, Sir Percival, and Sir Bedivere gallavant on their adventures. I can only hope that they return safe and laden with details.

However, as it is sometimes inevitable one can become too close to their watch. At first it could just be lust, it could turn to love. Prime example, Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere. There is an undeniable connection between the two of them. Even when all would consider it wrong and in a stronger sense, repulsive. However, who is to say their love is not real? Who has the right to keep them apart? Who has any gavel with which to judge them? Can you really convict two persons for having followed their hearts?

Even with the risk of breaking the code, I follow my knights on blindly, trusting them with my life, because why would you not trust a knight? No matter what my situation, no matter what I may do, I am sure they would not desert me. They will adhere to the code and protect my honor.

The ice cream man is here. I thought I heard the music, I thought it was just me being crazy again. I did not realise he really existed, but he does. And true to legend, his pipe song beckons the little children.

It is a perfect summer's afternoon. There are kids sitting on the sidewalk, bored to death, wondering what to do next. Time goes by so slowly for them. They need not worry what tomorrow brings, all that matters is today. There is a man driving his little remote control car (sheesh, boys and their toys, they never really grow up) in the street. I look to my right, a basketball game goes on. Boys, sweaty, shirts off, how primal, fighting for the best warrior.  I look to my left, there is a baseball game in the fields, I can hear the clink of bat hitting ball now. Mothers are sitting in benches all around, chatting away as their children run around, making as much noise as possible. This is the park. This is the playground for humanity.

There is a soft breeze moving through the trees, tousling my hair, playing with my blouse. There was rain yesterday and some flash flooding. It was magnificent. The desert people came out of their adobes. The mud-water filled the streets up to their knees. It reminded me of the mother country, during the rainy season. I remember when my uncle caught a goldfish. Do you really think he could have? Maybe. It is so interesting how something so everyday can be so celebrated. Water. Water. A lot of water, but just water. Organized chaos was all over the streets. Amazing how everyone can keep so sane, and at the same time, insane. Two boys drove past me, I could not hear them, but one mouthed to me "Can you believe this shit?" He was kind of cute. Everyone was so obliging.

Now the appearance of the ice cream man just makes this summer picturesque, like the movies. My life is a movie and I am the leading lady. This summer has just been wonderful. It is the perfect lead-in to my last year before I dissolve from innocence completely.

I wish I could have kissed him in the rain. Then my life really would have been a movie. Where are the cameras I wonder?

But how about me? What am I good for? What can I think I might be better than someone else at? I am not at all caring or as appreciative as others. I am not artistic, I cannot draw even a boa constrictor, i am not creative. I cannot play a sport, I have no instrumental skills worth bragging about, and I am not academically worthy enough to be mentioned. Even the one thing I love to do, write, I cannot even do as well as some. I am mediocre. At everything I do. Perhaps that is my one dedication? My mediocrity. No one can do mediocre as well as me.

Original Date Written: Thursday, January 17, 2008

"... But I realized something while I sat there. Everyone, no exception, thinks someone else is better and wishes to be in their shoes. No one is perfect. There is always a flaw. Be it their appearance, or their talent, or skill, or how they are feeling, or what they know. I a m not the only one who thinks this way. However, though they have one flaw or many, there is always something to balance that out. Everyone, no exception, has something special about them. They may not know it themselves, or maybe they're lucky and they do know, but others know it, they can see it. And that's all that matters. I think the hardest critic to a person is themselves. Because you cannot see yourself on the outside. You're running the show backstage and you don't know how the audience perceives it. Everyone is special and should be celebrated for who they are. Somewhere out there, someone celebrates me."

Die-cast Model Triumph TR7 (1:43 scale in Red)

Working wheels. Aged 8 and upwards.

Diecast Model Triumph TR7 Convertible in Platinum Silver (1:43 scale)

Diecast Model Triumph TR7 (1980 RAC Rally) in Red (1:43 scale)

I gotta admit, I was stupid.
Stupid for you.
Only for you.
Always for you.

And gawd sometimes I just want to slap you.
Like they do in the movies.
Kid gloves off.
You'd take it too.
Just to seem like the martyr.
You need the punishment, to feel alive.

You always had a problem with living.
You're just so ready to die.
Die without anyone for you.

But I wanted to be the one.
You're just so damn perfect.
With your looks.
And diction.
The way you say, "as you wish".

Someone just needs to beat you up.
Beat you like shit.
Asshole.
Gawd, I'm so in love with you.

No, was so in love.
Was.

Was.
Never kiss me again.
Never wear that perfume again.
It's too powerful.
You are too weak.

What a coincidence. It is as if the heavens are crying with me.

I think Ms. Hilary Duff said it best, "Let the rain fall down and wake my dreams. Let it wash away my sanity. 'Cause I wanna feel the thunder, I wanna scream. Let the rain fall down, I'm coming clean."

I have always found the rain an inspiration for renewal. Past regards are washed away, and I can start again. How the lightning ignites my bones, how the thunder excites me. I lift my head to the heavens, I missed you, I'll kiss you, my lips quench their thirst. And I am clean. And suddenly, I find the courage.

I'm going to go back to the beginning.

However, in this instance, I had not given anything of me away, and yet he gave something to me.

A key.

To open my lock.

This is all very symbolic and literal all at the same time, you know. The symbolic locks that I have are to my heart, mind, and body. His references that night indicate that this key was a very special key and had unique properties able to open anything. I do not need to elaborate such an allegory, do I? The key of his mind is sharp. The key of his body, ready. And the key of his heart... well, just looking for a lock to open.

I have a lock among my keychains. I always wondered why it did not come with something with which to open it. Now, I understand, someone was supposed to come along with the key. Could this be he?

I wish I could feel more excited. I mean, I am, expressly so, however I cannot help but feel like I am holding back. Holding back for what though? Isn't this what I have been waiting for? Someone with whom I can have something real with? And I have no doubt that he is genuine with his feelings. Why would he go through so much trouble? But I think, my problem is that I feel that I may not be real. I am afraid that I am only feeling feelings because I want to feel them, and so am conciously feeling them, instead of what is right, which is letting the feelings flow of their own accord.

And I am so afraid. What if he is the wrong one, again? What if I am the wrong one, again? My heart has already been broken twice, that is twice too many. Has my heart just had enough? Is this why I am holding back?

But then, when he looks at me... I just want him to keep looking at me, just like that. Like I am the most amazing person in the world. Like I am the most beautiful creature he has ever seen. And the way he holds me... like he never wants to let me go. What is this? Is this real? It's too good to be true. Is this just lust? Or is this something that could last?

Events

• July 11: Return of Squidzoid at the Stage.
• July 18: New Pin hidden, new Furniture Catalog.
• August 1: New Pin hidden (Will you be the first Penguin to find the new Pin? It's time to go hunting)!

Stage Sneak Peek
Here's another sneak peek fresh from the CP Blog for the new Stage of tomorrow.

CPIP
All the new features of Cpip including the new server selection, player card update, igloo backgrounds and Penguin Mail should release today. But for the penguins who play CP since "a long time" know that delays are normal and that it isn't here yet! It will release later today and I will update when it's here (, but maybe I will do it tomorrow).

Tell me what you think, by commenting!
Until then... Waddle on!
~Jellyboard

So good.

I sat at the park yesterday morning. It was quiet, peaceful, and right. There were old men, young men, and children quacking. I spent about a half hour writing, writing down my thoughts. It calmed my mind a little, for I forgot all my worries.

The other night, did not relieve my worries, they just tripled. However, when I was with him, my worries faded. What does that say? To me it speaks of what I am fearful to be the truth: he is still the One. Why can I think of nothing else but of him when I am with him? Then when he is not near... my heart aches with such heavy heavy burdensome worries.

I had a sexual dream yesterday morning. It really worried me because I should not be dreaming of G. I cannot understand why I would, considering I have not the slightest attraction to him whatsoever. Well, I did once, but it was merely passing fancy. And it was not his body I desired but his opinion. Even his opinion was insignificant really. I do not know what he was to me. I suppose he was just a way out. But he did not even know the way in. It was a delicious dream however. I was waiting for him in the parking lot. It was autumn and it seemed like we were at a college campus or something. I saw him from afar, he hugged another girl, feelings of jealousy and hurt stirred within me. Scene change. We are in his dorm room. It is unlike any dorm room whatsoever. It is a dream dorm room. One wall was entirely glass window, from floor to ceiling, viewing the green wood of the campus. His bed was to the opposite of this glass wall, we were both there. Not talking, were we. But I knew what I wanted, and what I wanted was him. And so I undressed, he watched me, eyes heavily alert. I kissed him, undressed him, still kissing him. Now we were both down to nothing. And we made love. You had to have been there. It was hot.

I cut my finger with glass. It made me cry. It cut away an entire layer of skin. I could not stop bleeding. I kept thinking maybe it hit a very minor capillary and is now exposed, and now everytime my heart beats, I lose my blood because of this one exposed capillary. Ahh. To die slowly...

Standing in line at the bank, getting gas, and going to class, makes me feel responsible, like an adult.

But I have decided. I have chosen. And I think my choice is surprising. Because I'm choosing B. Because... I know what I want, and what I want is something real. This could be real. I am going to find out. After talking with J, everything seems clearer. I really understand how I feel now.  

I realize now, it was just a spur of the moment. A re-living of a moment. And now it is gone. Kind of like in the movie Artificial Intelligence when they brought the mother back to life, but she could only live for one day.  But that day was a happy one. At the end of that day, you realize, that is all you needed. One more day. And now you can sleep. I have had my day, and now I can sleep.

Sleep with a light mind.

And then when they open the door for a mere moment, my heart starts racing and I have all of these thoughts just rushing at me. Voices in my own head telling me to take that chance. And sometimes I do. And the feeling of wind beneath my wings seems all worth it. All worth the consequence of getting caught and being shaken and scolded so harshly your heart almost breaks.

One of these days, they won't be able to catch me. And I'll just fly.

My nerves were already a bit frayed from just seeing his name on the screen. It seemed too good to be real. This couldn't really be happening. But it was. I had been waiting for this for seemingly all my life, and now that I had it, I had no idea what to do with it. My emotions were all mixed up. I felt like I didn't want this, but I did. I felt excited, but at the same time just neutral. But then I felt angry, and doubtful. But I should have been elated. So, how did I really feel?

I cried. It was really ironic too because I was in the shower with my radio shower on and Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" played. I guess I figured no one would see me and I could pretend the water on my face was only coming from the shower head. I felt better, but I didn't really know what I had to feel better from.

Then, he approached me on AIM, this was it. It was really happening. And I managed to sound really cold. Which of course was my intention from the beginning, but then I remembered, this was what I had been wishing for for the past year. I need to enjoy this, I need to let myself enjoy this. And so I did, and I talked to him as I would a friend. And it felt... okay.

And for the first time, I truly believed what I had been trying to convince myself ever since. He really did love me once, he really did care once. He was scared. Just as scared as I was. But then... I wondered, do I really believe I'm over him?

I guess we'll just have to find out.

After all those shooting stars, fallen eyelashes, 11:11s, blown candles, and simple breezes, I now know: wishes do come true. And I have a friend again.

I discovered that once I stopped living in the past, clinging on to a twice-dead memory, hoping it will come alive again, like Frankenstein's monster, life started happening to me. Before, I felt like I was just in a rut, like I was stuck. And nothing could break me free from the mundane routine that was my life. I felt like I just had to settle for what I had because that was the best thing that would come along. And I felt rotten. Rotten to the core. Because here I was, a promise made to myself at the beginning of the year, my brand new year, that I was not going to settle for anything less than what I felt was right. Because I deserved to be happy after such a long period of being miserable. I promised myself that this year, I would change back into the kind of person I liked, the kind I respected. But when I felt like I had to settle... I didn't respect myself. And so, I didn't settle.

I just let go. Let go of all that was bad for me. I let go of what was already long gone. It's just hard for me to give up on stuff, I guess. Ha! that's a laugh, really. Because if you know me... that is such an understatement. Basically, I can be a crazy, obsessive, scary bitch. And better believe it, I scared myself. And I don't really like that side of me. So I let go.

Ever since then, I've just been experiencing all the feelings I've been missing. I've become social again. I've become responsible again. I've become wild again. I'm feeling butterflies again. I've started to live again. This summer has just done wonders. And even though one month into it, I lost a friend, I regained, in a way, so much more. And although I thought that friend was wonderful, and incomparable, and unforgettable, he just wasn't good for me. I thought for the longest time that the problem was me, that I was not good enough for him. But I suddenly realized, it's totally the opposite. He isn't good enough for me. He doesn't deserve me or my friendship.

I am good enough. There's nothing wrong with me.

And a true friend, someone who righfully deserves me, understands this. They understand me. And that's what I've surrounded myself with: my friends. I can call them up and they'll meet me at the movies in half an hour. We'd watch the greatest movie ever, laugh at all the right parts. And we'd spend another hour and a half after the movie, just fooling around the parking lot, seemingly loitering but with our keys wrapped around our fingers, practicing our ninja-like skills. We would try to decipher the morsic code the light was expressing, or move away from the creepo smoker dude staring at us. And we'd talk full circle from the holocaust, to the failed epic that was Wanted, how someone took the innuendos too far and just killed it, to the newest music mix premiering this Friday, and back to the holocaust. And then we'd take our parking lot party to someone's house. The fun doesn't end until we're passed out. And through it all, no judgement would ever be passed, because they understand.

I would always choose them, and they would always choose me. Always. That's all I ever needed.

I just have something to say, and I want it to be heard.

It is no surprise then that last week, discount stores Aldi and Lidl announced substantial growth in like for like sales. The weekend saw a "price war" between Tesco and Asda as they tried to lend a helping hand and attract consumers already struggling with rising fuel prices and energy bills by slashing prices of everyday items by as much as 50 percent in some cases. Consumers are increasingly beginning to shop around with some using price comparison sites like mySupermarket.co.uk looking for better deals rather than just relying on one retailer. Other retailers like Sainsbury and Morrisons are also reducing prices and might also be forced to join the war by reducing prices in order to retain their customers.

Dans les faits, qu'est-ce que l'A-610, au juste? Pour ceux qui sont familiers avec les autoroutes de l'Estrie, mais qui ne passent pas souvent dans le coin, pensez au dernier tronçon de l'A-10, qui commençait à la sortie 143, et qui se rendait jusqu'à la route 112, à Fleurimont. C'est ce tronçon qui fut rebaptisé A-610. Je ne comprends toujours pas la logique derrière cette manoeuvre du MTQ. J'ai d'ailleurs écrit au ministère, afin que l'on m'explique, de façon claire, quel sera le réseau autoroutier du futur, selon leurs prévisions. À part un accusé réception, je n'ai pas eu d'autres nouvelles de cette requête.

Voyons donc voir quelques petits détails de l'A-610.

Voici le panneau indiquant le début de l'A-610, que l'on voit quand on arrive de Drummondville, via l'A-55 sud, dans un endroit situé plus ou moins à mi-chemin entre Bromptonville et le centre-ville de Sherbrooke. Comme on peut le voir, le changement de logo, sur le panneau, n'est pas des plus réussis.

L'A-610 file vers l'est, à travers la chaîne des Appalaches.

Un autre rapiéçage de panneau plutôt bâclé. Surtout que celui-ci indique qu'il n'y a plus de services, à la sortie 7, qui fut autrefois la sortie 150 de l'A-10.

Une autre preuve du rapiéçage passablement ordinaire des panneaux de l'A-610. Selon la logique actuellement appliquée par le MTQ, on devrait plutôt voir le logo de l'A-610, suivi du mot "ouest", puis des logos de l'A-10 et de l'A-55, le tout sur une même ligne, puisque c'est là que mène l'A-610. Mais bon, on s'est contenté de masquer le logo de l'A-10 avec un de l'A-610.

Dans l'autre sens, et un peu à contrejour, on voit au loin la séparation des chaussées, à environ un kilomètre à l'est de la sortie 7. Les trois derniers kilomètres de l'A-610 sont construits en super-2.

Ici, à deux kilomètres de la sortie 7, on peut voir qu'à quelques exceptions près, le terrain nécessaire à la construction de la deuxième chaussée est bien dégagé.

C'est la fin de l'A-610. Elle se termine bêtement, à la hauteur de la route 112, dans l'ancienne ville de Fleurimont, qui fait désormais partie de la ville de Sherbrooke.

Vous aimez les autoroutes aux fins toutes bêtes? À Sherbrooke, vous serez bien servis. Encore plus bête que celle de l'A-610, voici la fin de l'A-410, au boulevard de l'Université. Comme vous le voyez, on a construit une jolie courbe, plutôt accentuée, puis on a fait une belle pente, pas très longue, au bout de laquelle on a installé un feu de circulation. Tout ce qu'il faut pour se casser la gueule! On dit depuis des années que l'A-410 sera prolongée vers Lennoxville, mais il semble que les travaux pourraient débuter en 2009, pour une ouverture possible en 2013. Reste à voir si cet échéancier tiendra le coup.

J'avoue que je n'ai pas écrit beaucoup de billets depuis une dizaine de jours. À part le temps que je passe à répondre à vos commentaires (en passant, merci beaucoup à ceux qui m'écrivent, et ne vous gênez surtout pas!), j'ai procédé à quelques achats, dernièrement, dont un nouvel ordinateur, qui me fait royalement chier depuis une semaine, ainsi qu'un projet de "blogue-mobile", que je vais récupérer ce lundi, et qui prend les airs d'une vieille Jeep Cherokee Chief, de couleur bleue. Je vous tiendrai au courant des derniers développements dans les deux cas.

D'ici-là, suite à une question de Sam, je tenterai de savoir où se termine la route 155. Je vous montrerai aussi des travaux sur l'A-20, en Montérégie, sur l'A-10, dans les Cantons-de-l'Est, ainsi que d'autres bouts de routes intéressants, dont un lien inter-rives, où l'on roule sur rien de moins qu'un barrage d'Hydro-Québec! Alors n'allez pas trop loin, car les prochains jours risquent d'être captivants pour les amateurs de routes.

And just as I thought "How could there ever be a girl worth writing 143 pages of good things about ?", my questions were answered.

.......................................................

Harish has written a love letter — 143 pages long — to an imaginary lover.

........................................................

Makes perfect sense now. Another excerpt from the article :

........................................................

The letter, in Kannada, begins with ‘Preethiya Abhisarika’ (Dear Abhisarika) and ends with ‘Mathe ninna nireeksheyalli kanasu marida huduga’ (Awaiting you...).

........................................................

If "awaiting you" takes more than a line in Kannada, no wonder he decided to write it in Kannada !

And lastly, I am not sure if the juxtaposition of "employee of BSNL" and "penned in leisure" is incidental or just plain sarcastic.

I think I need to stop dissecting every sentence now !

Side-note : Just like you can scrape through into IIT's and IIM's with lower marks if you are an OBC, there ought to be a different target for married men attempting the above record !!!