I decided not to place a subject title, because I would deviate too much from it.

Today was quite fun (pretty much every other normal day, because I end up at the computer anyway. Damn things tempting me) in terms of bonding with friends, but to be honest, I was quite bored.

Maybe I wasn't so hyper because of the distinct lack of sugar...(chocolate)

Or maybe it's because I have a rather short attention span. I can't stand writing about the same story for more than a day. It's a miracle I came out with 'consuming cooking' (which is, by the way, NOT about recipes) but then again, the beginning and the ending is really disjointed. I couldn't decide which tense I wanted to use, and my intent strayed from the subject at hand.

In other words, I let the story control me. Which is a big no-no in writing.

But then again, what gives the character a solid front? Is it their looks, described to minute detail? Their thinking? The way they talk? How they present their views?

What exactly is a character?

You can't really include all of these variables listed above, it'll be too much of a overkill. Yet, how do you paint a vivid portait of a character in the reader's mind?

I've tried using the way the characters think and act, but all I managed to achieve were two faceless strangers: one a weak, insipid woman cowed and manipulated by her husband, loving him so much that she refuses to do anything about the ill treatment; the other, a manipulative rich chee ko pek who knows a woman's body well.

I don't know how to explain it without giving too much away, but 'cooking' is a symbol. You have to see the definition to understand I guess.

ARGH...

The smells of cooking at WeiQi's house just brought up this question. I was eyeing at the fishballs her mother kindly prepared for us, and then the story I wrote appeared in my mind's eye.

Yes, I do have expensive taste. In reading, the knowledge I gain, the works I do, and the things I use. But what exactly constitutes to expensive? Is it morally expensive or thoughtfully expensive? Is there anything else under the sheen of meaningless numbers and currencies?

The lyrics of a song I loved long ago comes back to haunt me. It is strangely fitting, and familiar, in the way it wraps itself around the situation like a nude-coloured silk gown, flaunting and emphasizing...

...Yet the thing it emphasizes still evades me.

Time dancers whirling past
I gaze into the looking glass...

...Just beyond my grasp is heaven...