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About LJCC

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    I'm interested to know why I'm single. And I'm interested in men who...Oh shit. I thought this is a dating site.

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  1. LJCC

    A Guide on Boyfriends

    I think with my last relationship that lasted for 3 years, he assumed we were together when I started leaving knick knacks on his house. The intended toothbrush there, the overnight pair of ckothes left in laundry bin, the shirtless selfie on his phone, and the couple of beers on his fridge despite him being a wine guy...left little to his imagination that after nearly dating for a year, I think we're past the 'He's my buddy from the UK' stage. Men are simple creatures. And he loved the fact that I was more assertive than him. There's this guy-friend who liked me at that time, and after going out with the guy one night (of course that wasn't a date for me, he was like a brother) he took the notion from me, "If you don't step up your game, this will be me without YOU" kind of idea. So a week later, he asked me out if we were together which I curtly answered with "Are you sure?" Of course it was actually an elaborate plan to trap him. If not for the fact that I fell in love with him first and that I was more scared of losing him so I gotta ensure that he'll be my property with fringe benefits. Funny thing though, he told me that he'd rent out his house and asked me if we can move in together. That was a successful reconnaisance indeed. The Queen Mother would've been so proud of me.
  2. LJCC

    Is That A Rocket In Your Pocket, Charlie Boone?

    To be fair, this has got to be one of the better conceptualized titles around here. I'm so tired of seeing story titles that looked like it was imagined by a ten year old, who's writing an English paper about how their summer vacation went about. And I don't mean the stories with mediocre titles have crap stories...some of them are extremely good, but was packaged in the wrong gift-wrapping paper. Plus, your story is amusing and lighthearted as well, which thoroughly fits the title.
  3. LJCC

    The Brokenhearted's Tale

    It was clear that day when he took it upon himself to close the door and never return. It wasn't the isolation that left his breathing staggered with all the burdens he'd chosen to carry unto his shoulders; but he'd never thought that life would strike him in the severest manner of his own discontent—to this life he'd lead that was thrusted upon him by the decisions he's made in the past. In the delicate fabric of dealing with choices: Do you succumb to the easier route or take the arduous task of self-fulfilment? He chose the former; hence, this was his punishment. The heart he'd broken that day was not his. But his feebleness in acknowledging how it had lead to this path, was still a mystery to him. To the broken-hearted person who made him choose, which is which and what is what; it was a matter of decency over self-profligacy. For he'd wasted all he'd had on his decisions. The choices that were critical to the brokenhearted person, who only said 'Go', despite the perturbations of the brokenhearted's consternations for him to either stay or to leave, didn't beckon him to choose to un-break the heart he broke that day. It was because he felt he didn't have any other choice, but to choose his pride of the only option he thought he was given, which was to go. But was it really the only option? Was it cruel for him to narrow it to one single direction that made him choose the single minded path of recklessness? And that was the flaw in his conscience. His conscience that only spoke of 'I' instead of 'We' or 'Us'. Selfishness doesn't get bearing if one doesn't capitalise on its function. For the function of selfishness only acts upon one's self-preservation. And preserving himself was his only choice he'd always chosen in the past, the present, or probably, in the future. To the brokenhearted person; it was not preserving the 'Us' or the 'We' in this debacle. It was the self-admission that mistakes had been made, and the error needed to be corrected. But he refused to see whatever errors were there in the making. A spade is a spade, as he always said. But behind a spade was a king of hearts in a full deck. Promises are meant to be broken, he thought. And a promise he made twelve years ago was nothing compared to the unhappiness that he'd caused to the brokenhearted person. He never assumed they would last this long, but he did, for the sake of communal bliss he thought he'd be pressured to partake in. His family, his friends, and his colleagues were all too sure to give their inputs on his life, especially to the effect he'd marry on that joyous afternoon at St. Paul's Cathedral. In the enslavement of priorities, he chose to be a father. He gave the effect the chance to be a familial unit. In the enslavement of priorities, he chose to be a husband. He gave the effect a husband whom he can honestly say was a good provider. In the enslavement of priorities, he beseeched his yearnings to thwart all longings for a different life; for he thought it was evil and cruel. In the enslavement of priorities, he was a slave to his commitments in the comity of faith. In the enslavement of priorities, he was shackled to his own commiserations to the yoke of his discontent. In the enslavement of priorities, he sought comfort on his adulteries—to bathe in the solace he knew would be shared to other intimates of his yearnings. And the brokenhearted person was an intimate he fondly treasured; another life bouldered by the indefiniteness to how he'd enslaved himself to his priorities. The effect never knew that she'd be a consequence. But the effect was determined to keep herself in the affectations of communal bliss, patriarchal oligarchy, strategical devises of a suburban life; for an effect was the direct result of an action. And an action he thought was too costly to amend. So he languished himself that the brokenhearted person was to be locked in the fortress—only to be seen when he rolled the banner and heeded the call. But not all pawns are pawns, and rooks are to knights. Even a pawn can rise to be a king, especially when a king absconded his throne at exactly 5:30 PM whenever the king returned to his eloquent kingdom. To the brokenhearted person...I say, be free. To him, I say, be free. To the effect, I say, be free. For the ripples of freedom would soon connect their choices. However, he never did free himself. And the effect chose to be an effect. Because for them, misery and discontent had been a staple to their lifelong reveries. A ritual they shared with others whose lives were privy to their commiserations. A cycle notably famous to those who sought perfection in the imperfect world of dissatisfaction—to those men who sought in reaching the heights of the gods, only to fall miserably to the ground like the fabled Icarus. And to the brokenhearted person...He writes this fable to warn those who are kept in fortresses by misers, gregarious enchanters, and kings whose kingdom stretch far across all nations. Be wary my friends, for a tale is not a tale without its application in this ground we tread upon. Alas, I'm no longer brokenhearted. I am, but free.
  4. LJCC

    Short Histoires

    This is a collection of short stories I've written throughout the years.
  5. LJCC


    OMG. This is precious.
  6. LJCC


    I feel like I'm more of a traditionalist or one from the silent generation, born 1945 and before.
  7. LJCC


    I'm not a hipster, promise. I was trying to show my cousin in Spain the jacket and the beanie he wanted from H&M. I honestly don't know why I'm defending myself. I have issues.
  8. LJCC

    Attention cat

    OMG! Mingmingfurliciouskittykitty! Your cat looks like Simba. Damn it...my cat addiction is spiralling at the moment.
  9. LJCC


    Hahaha...a friend tagged me when I was sneezing halfway. Such good friends I have when they always tag me in Facebook while looking constipated most of the time. This is the most sane looking one I have.
  10. LJCC

    Chapter 1

    I'm heaps loving this story so far. We need good oz stories here. I'm very intrigued.
  11. LJCC


    When you shaved your beard yet forgot to shave some hairs on your chin and the flash manages to capture all the cooking oil marinating on your face...Priceless. #EpicFail

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