(no subject)

I started typing up some notes for a paper on securitisation and the financial crisis two hours ago, which is obviously why I've ended up instead with the first bit of Nejiten that I've written in ages and ages.  I've missed writing, but ohhh am I rusty.

This is pretty random; I just wanted to write out a scene, without plot or context or meaning etc.  Just fluff, then.  


Tenten pads down the hot wooden planks striping the dock, shading her eyes against the sun with a hand that is faintly sticky with vanilla ice cream.  An atrociously large sun hat flops from her other hand, trimmed thickly with an ivory ribbon.  (“It’s pretty,” she had told Neji when she bought it from the overpriced beach store.)  Footprints gleam wetly behind her, each toe defined into individual coherence with saltwater and sand.  (“Like you,” she had added, teasingly, sliding a fingertip along the underside of his jaw.  “Pretty Neji.”)

She finds him lying on a deckchair at the end of the dock, eyes closed and arms crossed stoically over his bare, thoroughly sunblocked chest.  He is not asleep; Tenten knows this because she knows that Neji dislikes falling asleep around strangers, and there are plenty of those about on the beach.  She also knows that he really, really likes the olive green bikini she is temporarily covering up with a small towel, even if he hasn’t said anything so far to suggest that he even realises she has on something other than her normal prosaic training outfit.  (She had startled the rest of their holiday troupe by wearing something distinctly and almost gleefully girlish, stepping out of her usual tomboyish practicality with an ease that proved the smooth duality of her character, the girlishness wrapped carefully in steel.  Her teammates had been the only ones left unsurprised.) 

She moves deliberately into view in front of him, stopping right at the edge of the dock.  Her shadow slants over the water underneath.  Gai-sensei and Lee are a couple dozen metres from the shore, strenuously powering through the water in an intense display of youthful vitality. 

“I think they really like it here,” she says, knowing that Neji has opened his eyes and is looking at her. 


She glances at him over her shoulder, a messy braid of hair swinging softly against her back. “Wanna go swimming, Neji?”

“Later, maybe.”  He has a book next to him, a blade of grass slid between pages two-hundred and forty-three and two-hundred and forty-four.

“Join me when you feel like it, then.”  She smiles sweetly, and suddenly her towel has been discarded like a badly-kept secret, crumpling onto the ground along with the hat, and Neji is rolling his eyes and smiling at the same time while getting to his feet because he really, really likes that bikini on her, even if he is far too much of a gentleman to ever admit it aloud.

(He doesn’t bother to ask why the hat had hit the ground with a heavy, metallic clunk, partly because he knows that she has probably hidden enough senbon under the ribbon to wipe out the nearby marine wildlife, but mostly because he is far too busy following a pretty brunette kunoichi into the water.)   


Ok back to securitisation and financial regulation.  

epic music is epic

I've been listening to a lot of soundtracks recently, especially those of the vast, orchestral variety.  Strings are infinitely beautiful and infinitely sad.  I wish I had taken up the cello when I was younger.  Instead I sprawl out on my bed and stare at the ceiling and realise that my problems are truly petty as the notes unfurl and flow and collide, ohhhhh.

This one makes me want to write a tear-soaked romance about star-crossed lovers.  

And this one -  this one is heartbreaking.  Dario Marianelli is a genius (he also wrote the beautifully pristine soundtrack for the Pride and Prejudice movie, which I love to pieces).  This makes my heart hurt in the good way.

 And this is the orchestral main theme of Tamra, the Island, a ridiculous little Korean drama that I've indulged in recently as a guilty pleasure.  The motif is repeated with lovely vocals in Mika's "Blue", which I also highly recommend.


(no subject)

"Running is just a controlled fall".

  - Christopher McDougall, Born to Run

What a beautiful way to put a biomechanical truth.  I'm increasingly starting to enjoy running as a fun, strengthening and self-validating activity, but this quote propels one to like running as a concept.  The controlled fall:  an exercise in sheer humanity, perhaps, of the human propensity to try to prevent or delay the inevitable, to try to control the ultimately uncontrollabe.  



I really miss flying.  Won't be flying for a while.  Gotta finish off these last few papers, get the damn Masters degree, spam the summer job, earn some $$$$ and then finally go travelling during the upcoming gap year.  New Zealand, maybe.  New York if I can afford it.  Shanghai definitely for at least two or three months.  France?  I fucking love France.  Maybe spend a month there, polish up my French.  And then back to London next July to sell my soul and become Ms. Evil Corporate Lawyer.  Le sigh.   


Random city passed while flying through Russia en route to London.  Russia from the sky at night is a vast, incredibly daunting stretch of black, so much darkness you can drown in it.  And then here and there, glittering and hard, you find isolated villages and cities like jewels sewn into the fabric of the earth.  So different from Hong Kong; flying into my city in the night you're half-blinded by how condensed and clustered, how omnipresent the lights are.  I grew up with nights that were never truly dark....when I went to London I was frightened by how black the sky could be.
God how I want to visit Russia.......the great thing about the law firm I'm joining is that we get sent off for six months to work in another office, and we can pick MOSCOW.  YES.  YESSSSS.  OHHHHH YESSSSS.