Ooh happy day;

Sometimes God sends you little trickles of TLC.
Sometimes He showers you with blessings.
And sometimes...

God:

AHAHAHA, I FEEL LIKE HAVING FUN TODAY, AHAHAHA, SO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO, I'M GONNA WAKE YOU UP BRIGHT AND EARLY WITH A BIG THUNDERSTORM BECAUSE YOU HAVE GOT TO GET READY FOR THE SMORGASBORD OF MIND-BLOWING FANTASTIC STUFF I'M GONNA BE THROWING IN YOUR FACE, AHAHAHAHA, GET UP KID, GEDDUPPP...AHAHAHA, AHAHAHA *throws a lightning bolt, a few clashes of the thunder cymbals*

Me:

*mmph*

This, readers, is a living example of the foreshadows Miss Felicia doesn't give enough examples of. Morning showers - my favourite kind. I know I should have figured but yes, I am that thick.

How God just consumed my day (and week) with some mad eternal bliss:

1. The miraculous resurgence of my library card
   This is the biggest miracle of eighteen-years-of-life-so-far.
   Okay, maybe not. Me not getting killed by a bus or car or crazy knife-wielding grandmother was pretty miraculous. Me not killing myself or dissecting myself anymore is pretty miraculous too.
   But;
   I put library card in pocket. I take taxi home with awesome friends, one of who has an awesome father who has an awesome taxi-driving friend. I walk home from train station with headphones on, singing and ignoring the people in the adjacent houses who are probably plugging their ears from the awful screeches. (I pass a cute guy. This is not relevant.) I reach home. I eat (like I said I would do). I sleep. I wake up for dinner. I eat more. I read the driving manual. I eat. I read more of Hardy. (I love Hardy.) I eat. I finally realize my library card is missing. I look for it. I eat a bit. I ask God where it is. I ask Saint Anthony where it is. I ask Saint Anthony to intercede on my behalf. I give up. I think I'll live without a library card.
   One day later, a friend I barely talk to from school writes on my Facebook wall that she found my library card at the train station. I barely even know this girl. It's a train station. I didn't even really care anymore.
   OH, GOD. Have you ever blessed the Catholic Church with more than we could ever understand. I mean, the saints. God, your saints. They actually bring forth miraculous events. This is madness. They are madness. The whole Church is madness. You are madness.



2. I've been thinking a lot about sitting with and talking to this Person since the first day I saw this Person and immediately thought of another person this Person resembles. (I know, I resemble that other person more than this Person, but that is beside the point.) But instead of me ending up joining the Person, the Person joined me.
   Person, you made my day. You really did.



3. PJ people. I have not realized how awesome PJ people are. I mean, don't get me wrong, KL people and Ipoh people are totally awesome in a way PJ people can never be. But oh, the joy of the familiar PJ peoples populating your class! PJ people.



4. An afternoon chat with my lecturer.
   


5. Chicken. God, after forty days of being chicken-less, I have decided You could not have created any better animal for human consumption. *mooaks*



6. My first covers got their first comments and my first comment-ers actually became my first subscribers. (And a random musician with a few dozens of thousands of followers started following me on Twitter despite the fact that I don't even know who he is or how he found me.)
   I don't even know these people. I didn't even think I would get views. I intended on bursting eardrums.
   But oh, my beloved comment-ers who complimented me/subscribers who actually think I could come up with more worthy ear-splitting renditions/best friend who was the first to view my cover and liked my post, IF I COULD I WOULD HUG YOU GUISE! And scratch off all the nail polish on my right index finger strumming and plucking and not bothering with a pick.



7. Frost and Hardy
   I am no well-versed poetry analyst but one could not read the works of masters and not be moved to think that one could jump off a cliff and fly because the exhilaration would sustain one up to the clouds. Writing detailed cross-examinations of such revered works would, I feel, be a desecration of their sanctity.
   But CIE A-levels examinations are not as respectful of the holiness of such works and the revernce due them. Or maybe it's just me and my insane ideas of devotion to great literary masterpieces.

I am almost so happy I might die.