On Oversleeping, Raw Fish, and Harry Potter

Question: What do the three topics above have in common?

Answer: Nothing at all.

If anyone really tried to deduct what's running through my mind when I write my entries, I'd suggest it's really a waste of their time. Now, on to the real post!

My oversleeping has become a dangerous habit of late. It's only been a month since I entered the semester and already I've been missing morning lectures here and there. I know the problem, and I know the solution. Breaking the habit, however, is a different matter. For those in the audience that know me, I'm a bit of a nightcrawler; Sleep late, wake late. Yes, I do realise that if I shifted that time a little bit back (say, 5 hours?) I'd have exactly the same time to do all my business for the day and still have time left over for quality me time. So that's what I'm working on, currently. That and getting to class on time. I still managed to get late to Friday's 9 am lecture even though I woke up at 6 (one of those mercifully rare occurrences that coincide with the arrival of the blue moon and motivation). So yes...time management's still the big issue. But I'm getting there. Trust me. These sleep-depraved eyes can only betray so much longing for a balance to the system. No, seriously.

I bought a kilo of raw fish last Friday. Why did I buy a kilo? I had no idea how much it would be, and I naively thought it would last in the fridge for at least a week. Contrary to my expectations (thought it's probably everybody else's), it did not. I managed to use four of the nine fillets and turned them into teriyaki-marinated grilled fish (had it for breakfat today...sugoi, ne...) on the weekend before checking them again this afternoon. To my surprise, it smelt fishy...-er than before. At first I thought it was the rotting vegetation that lines the veggie bin (I kid you not; nobody's willing to take responsibility for the marsh that lies within the recesses of our refrigerator) . Then I poked my hand in...and surprise, surprise, it was somewhat...slimy. Let me allow myself a short narrative in which our hero finds that his fish has, indeed, joined the undead.

As he reached tentatively into the plastic bag which held his marine sustenance, he noticed an odor most foul which seemed to emanate from within. It was a smell unlike any other, the smell of...death. Undaunted, whether by courage or sheer stupidity, he reached farther and farther within to grasp the true meaning of what lay within. A single touch warned him; a single, delicate touch of a dirty finger onto the half-putrid flesh of the animal. His stomach turned, though not from disgust; rather, from the hopes that his money had not been spent in vain. In desperation, he rammed his hand in, and drew out a single fillet of fish. It did not look as if it were in the throes of decay; it was still white, as white as it had been when he purchased it. But the trade of flesh had passed over the three days know as the weekend, and the bag had not been seen to properly. An opaque layer of fine slime covered the fish, and that too smelt foul, just like his laundry. Shaking his head and muttering in denial, he uttered the mantra he thought would work; "it's still safe to eat". But in his heart of hearts he knew that the fish was beyond saving. All five of them would have to be sent away, never to enjoy the ultimate sacrifice within his churning stomach. Yet, perhaps it was for the best of all that our hero placed the steadily decomposing remains in the trash can, whence they would be taken away and left to rot in peace. And after all, he was now a little wiser. Never again would he put fish in the fridge for more than 3 days.

Wow. I'd give J.K. Rowlings a run for her money with such superb storytelling skills (thanks, Nenek). And speaking of which, I read the last book. At the end of the book I realised three things. First, it ended the way I knew it would end...and come off extremely cheesy by doing so. I don't want to be a spoiler, but let's just say the best friends will become...ahem...more related to each other, and some character pairings seem to be the work of a clandestine (and rabid) fanfic group. Or maybe it was just Ms. Rowlings feeling 'inspired'. Second, it doesn't have Harry going all postal and turning into 'Dirty Harry' the Auror who blasts the living daylights out of every Death Eater he finds (although I do not doubt that a like-minded fanfic writer is typing away furiously with this idea as I write). Thirdly, I realised that I had wasted an entire weekend reading the damn thing while I should've gone and did my homework. Alas, such is my self control that the smallest distraction sends me packing off in another direction.

Still, I'm quite happy that Harry Potter ended the way it did. Unlike many an anime/manga, say, Dragonball or Bleach, both of which seem to head off into the horizon with the number of episodes and story arcs still being introduced to the franchise, it broke it off at the right moment. Sure, I'd like to know what happens afterwards (and I will not accept "happily ever after" as an answer), but I'll leave that to the rabid fanfic writers. Now, if I can only find some time to go at the end of the week, I should be able to procure more fish...and maybe hook me up with some more of that Samurai Champloo...oh, yes. Then it'll all be sweet as.

Ciao.

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