neko_sakana | 10 Things (Reply)

Thank you,

pixelnyx , for the epic idea.
Now... *thinks*
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Trying to think of things that aren't related to stuff I've recently read (The area under the curve is 155 and a quarter units squared. Or rather, the area between the curve and the x axis is. You just integrate it.). Egads.

The first videogame I ever played was space invaders. Then Final Fantasy IX. Then Banjo Kazooie. My entire knowledge of videogames has been pretty much shaped by these three.
If I listen to music while studying/such, I embed it wicked-fast. Less than half an hour before my Lit exam, I sat there listening to The Blue Danube, and memorized Story of an Hour and Ode to a Nightingale word for word. Humming the waltz during the essaywriting, I had the ultimate stock of quotes. I do the same thing with chemistry/physics/supermaths (Maths Specialist, omg, ruining my life.) tests/exams, but for the former two I'll just stare at the important pages and memorize the structure, which'll bring back the words.
On that topic, if I do a test for a subject by myself (noone else in the room, etc), I will fail it. Or, rather, get a score "far below my average". If I do a test that I know nothing about in a room full of people, I will do amazingly in the test. The theory last year was "Luke doesn't learn, he absorbs!" because we'd all watched too much Futurama with brainsuckers.
My skin is terribly/amazingly fragile. And odd. Color: I burn in minutes. I've gotten really good with the burning lately, though - I can now stay out in the sun for however long I want without getting burnt, so long as I keep a shirt on. (:. On the other hand, I now blush to the extreme - with my whole body, but on cue if need be. My skin will also change color depending on my temperature and mood; Green for hot (after red), purple for cold, grey for happy, and gold for content. My right knuckle-scar seems to work the opposite way for temperature - it turns bright purple when I'm hot and a pale green when I'm cold.
Skin: Other: I scar from everything. While on the topic of scars, I have a wicked one in the shape of an eye on my right shin. I have a variety of scars on my hips from being dragged through glass away from a car going through a wall (Ooh, let's hit upon as many interesting points in Luke's life as possible!), scars on my shins from general foolishness (running into a bin, for one), a single scar on my arm that I got from scratching myself with a brick, scars on the knuckles of my right hand from punching a brick wall, and scars on my feet from getting my foot caught in a bike when I was six and from second degree burns from a shortish time in the sun. Oh, and a scar on my thumb from cutting tomatoes and various scars on my back. My two ear-piercings were, uh, interesting. The top one "healed over" after a day of having it out (after having it pierced for half a year :/) and formed an odd black lump that I immediately stabbed with a needle, releasing the weirdest black stuff I have ever seen. My lobe piercing I took out and it healed overnight. This is, of course, after it tried to eat my piercing. It half-absorbed this pretty star earring I had in. It was creepy. Eventually got my sister to attack it with tweezers to get the earring out. I'm just glad my nipples are nice and not all weird and stuff.
I can now crack every finger but my pinky on my left hand, every finger but my pinky and ring on my right, and all of my toes except my big toes. I can crack my wrists constantly; I sit there and just rotate my hands, and with every rotation there'll be two cracks.AHGWEGTWR HA FORGET THAT I CAN NOW CRACK MY PINKY ON MY LEFT HAND. WIN.
I hate it when people lie about their opinions of things to make me feel better. Especially if I ask for their opinion. If I ask for it and don't specifically say "I want you to tell me this is good no matter what you think of it", be honest, godsdamn.
I love surprising people with my muscles. Like, my biceps are like my strongmuscularheterosexualmachomalefriend's, and no-one ever realises until I take off my jumper and flex. Or until I kick their ass in an arm-wrestle. (:. Yay for teenage testosterone!
I have a home tattoo. It's faded to just a pale blue circle, but I actually sat there and dipped a needle (sterilized. Piercing needle. I'm not a complete idiot.) into ink, then into my arm. It was a character-building experience.
My voice deserves a PlusMinusInteresting. No matter how sick I get, with concentration I can get my voice to completely normal - pitch and everything. This is good. However, when I am sleepy/aroused, my voice gets higher by, like, two and a third octaves. The mere combination completely eludes my understanding. If I'm sleepy then I'm only half-awake. Sure, I could have a boner, but I wouldn't consciously be aroused. If I were to become consciously aroused, I would actually wake up properly. This is annoying. When I am scared or worried, my voice deepens. It becomes very, very low, and booming. This is interesting/amusing.
Bonus, because Chrome keeps trying to correct me: I spell mom as mom and color as color. Yeah. It's american. I don't care. It feels more "right". Honor! Neighbor!

So, in other news, as of one week, six days, 17 hours and thirty-six minutes ago (just before midnight, I was the awesomest baby), I am sixteen. My family was as they are every birthday that I go out on - asleep. But it's cool, because I had a wonderful day (... Two hours of rimming. TWO. HOURS. TWO HOURS. I LOVE THIS BOY. SHARE MY LOVE, PLEASE.) and came home to family-present-time. (:.
AND NOW I CAN GIVE BLOOD! Booked in for 12:40 at whitfords on thursday. So excite.