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Most people have this stark, unwelcome feeling in the pit of their guts when they realize people don't like them. I don't, but that's mainly because I assume people don't like me from the get-go. This is exactly how I handle things everywhere I go, and frankly, it works wonderfully for me. The people I work with can dislike me and talk about me behind my back all they want; I simply don't care. Don't have the time or inclination to.

So, really, me finding out people don't like me doesn't surprise me one bit. I take as a...reaffirmation of my belief that, in the end, nobody really likes the people around them, and we're all ultimately alone. Cynical, I know, but it works.

Now, enjoy the lovely artwork of Yoritomo Yashinko, from the Legend of the Five Rings CCG.

Blood.

I hate Valentine's Day, but rather than my yearly complaining about it, I'll just post this picture instead:


You just have to love a girl covered in someone else's blood.

Where Does It All Go?

Sometimes, I just wonder if I've got awful luck, or have some sort of poverty god living in my wallet. Or following me around.

For many years now, I have been observing a most disconcerting anomaly in my own house. Items disappearing when left alone for a short while would not be entirely unusual in any home, and I think it just tends to happen. People forget things or misplace things, or other people move things and forget to return them. However, when items in my home disappear, it is a touch different.

They don't come back.

Small items seem to just disappear and never be seen again, even if you look at every nook and cranny of the place. Things just...disappear, and there's no real way to tell where they went or what happened to them. For the most part, nothing important has disappeared in this manner. Flash drives, memory cards, and the like tend not to disappear, thankfully. But everything else, from nail cutters to DVDs, are fair game. Even money.

It's that last one I'm really getting tired of.

You see, I like to keep my money in the small pockets of my wallet. Not the place where you usually put bills, but in those small pockets where people keep pictures or credit cards. It makes it easier for me to make sure that none of them fall out as I pull out a bill, seeing as how it'd be hard to miss it since it'd be right in front of me. Plus, I never pile together more than three bills in the same pocket.

So I can essentially go home not worrying about losing the money in my wallet, which is all well and good. Still, paranoid creature that I am, I take a look at the contents of my wallet before I hit the sack. Just to make sure, you know? Theoretically, nothing should happen. The amounts contained in it should not change. So how come every so often (and particularly often lately), I wake up to find that most of it is gone? 500 changes to 200, 300 to 100, and so on. The amounts vary, and sometimes the time between one disappearance to another varies. The money just...is gone.

No, I didn't spend it and not remember. If nothing else, I can keep careful track of how much I spend, even if I have no idea what I spent most of it on. I keep my wallet in my bag on the commute, and to get to where it is, whoever is after it would basically have to stick their hand very close to my stomach - no way I'd miss that.

So where does my money go overnight? It can't be stolen, since a sensible thief would just take every last bit of it. It isn't my younger brother "taking" it, because I wake up earlier than he does and during those hours after work before I head to bed, I keep my wallet in sight.

I find it very disturbing and annoying that it has started to happen more and more lately. I will actually be glad to move out of there in two months (roughly) time, as it means I'll be out of The House That Devours My Stuff. That is, unless I really do have a poverty god or something following me around. In which case, changing houses won't mean diddly-squat. Ugh.


The above is Seo Yoo Jin. Isn't she pretty?