01.08.2013, Sunday, 2:22 pm

Just back from Monsieur Vector’s place. He’s this pro musician who has a top-notch recording studio IN HIS HOUSE!!! I know right!! How cool is THAT?? It’s an awesome, wooden-floored room with the A/C always on in full blast and a maroon wallpaper and stacks of novels neatly lined up against the glassy bookshelves. Oh, and there’s this unique rack of the most CRAZY CD’s EVER. The whole space is choked up with drum sets and acoustic guitars and microphones and wires and even more wires… It’s HEAVEN!!! I LOVE spending time there. Especially nowadays since he’s working on his very first album. [Don’t ask me what its called because I have NOOO idea]

Oh, and I had dropped in at Ashley’s yesterday. We hogged on chocolate dips and butter-pepper popcorn while our eyes stayed glued to the telly that screened a Mind Your Language re-run. It was EPIC. When we realised that The Princess Diaries: 2 was running on Star Movies, we decided to ring Stella and ask her to join us because she’s been wanting to watch that movie for, like, FOREVER. Sure, she could have just watched it at home, but we had so many extra ballerina cupcakes that we needed to wipe off. I ended up staying there for four full hours, even though I’d gone there in the first place just to pick up the book she’d borrowed. Of course, as you might have guessed, I toppled into bed and was snoozing before my head hit the pillow. Boy, criticizing Oscar-winning actors and chucking muffins at a 42-inch T.V sure can be exhausting!!

I am SO itching to go back to Vector’s cottage. It was decorated in the 1800s and somehow, I feel relaxed around medieval-time-interiors. I’m not sure dad is going to allow me to take a trip there, though. He says that the orchestra will get disturbed and that their creative juices will stop flowing. Umm… yeah. I’m not exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, but as long as I won’t have to get into a row with my father, I’m willing to obey. Trust me, if there’s ONE person whose bad books you don’t wanna get into, it’s dad’s. Not that he gets violent, or anything. It’s just that when we argue, it usually ends in him saying, “I’m disappointed in you, Taylor.” The part that stings the most is that he calls me by my name. Dad NEVER calls me by my name. Except for when I let him down. Which sucks just as much.

On the other hand, whenever my father praises me, the happiness is two fold, because you can bet that he really means it. And that he’s pleased or even that he’s ADMIRING something I did. [Seriously, how often does one get envied by a math genius??] Last night, dad popped into my room while I was solving a puzzle on the Kindle. ‘If your not to busy, Tay, could you play something on the piano for me??’ He requested. ‘Dad?? I’m kind of in the middle of a Sudoku. Would it be okay if I completed it??’ I asked, amazed that my father actually wanted ME to do something that [hopefully] cheers him up. ‘A Sudoku?? Have I got a smart daughter or what?’ He asked himself, before winking at me and trotting off.

 My mouth nearly touched the tops of my bare feet. MY FATHER CALLED ME SMART?????? MY father called me SMART???? My FATHER called ME smart????? I nearly fainted. I was totally hopping up and down in my mind. I SO wanted to phone up BBC WORLD and inform them about this piece of BREAKING NEWS. I mean, although my dad is SO TOTALLY awesome, he doesn’t compliment me much [Not that he doesn’t communicate with me or anything like that. It’s just that apart from, a “You look great hon” {which doesn’t really count because HELLO?? Beauty is something I REALLY try to steer away from. I don’t need my face to get me places. Not that it COULD get me places, even if I’d wanted it to. Let’s face it; I look like a walking toothbrush: Frizzy hair?? Check. Odd design?? Check. So I’m sure he only says it to make me feel better}, that’s about it]. Which is good, because when he does, I am sure that what he’s saying is genuine. 

And, [this is to anyone who might be thinking anything BUT something great about my dad] let me get something straight; my father is the BEST dad in the whole universe, and NOTHING is ever going to change that. [Okay. If someone from school reads that, I am a zombie]

Phew. Okay, now I REALLY need to go to the studio. After this heated discussion I have been having with you, DeDe, [no joke, I am SWEATING]I really need a couple of ancient antiques and rock’n’roll music to get me back on track. Time to shove on my persuasion skills and BEG dad to let me go there. Here goes nothing…


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