2 of a Kind
Every other time when the moon decides to turn itself a deep shade of red (errr, similar to the one on Yandao.com), one somehow meets someone so similar to him/herself. I guess this year, the moon decided to look crimson again – as if once in earlier this year wasn't good enough.
I got to come across her by pure accident, probably through another friend, many of whom told close to everyone they knew, that I could fix the "viruses". The usual get-to-know process, what do the ang moh's call it, again? I remember there was some slang they used for giving a "rundown" – Argh, short-term memory. (Though I do have long term memory, too.) As usual, she added me to MSN, so we started talking about "viruses" – literally.
At some point of time or another, and probably with a catalyst individual, we became friends – rather than just spyware-fixing-"clients". Added into Friendster, talked to almost everyday, asked out for drinks – the usual treatment to all my friends. But then strangely some of them, like Don, question why I am always so "on". Put it this way, I find motivation in everything. Even if it's dull enough, I'll dig some silly point to motivate myself.
Unless I can't even see where I'm going – like yesterday, lah.
Somewhere along the usual 7 chat windows which I have open at all times, (of which 2 I close constantly due to them being very resource demanding, thus, I just keep pointing them to Google keywords – ask Dexter, I think he actually learnt some stuff from those words I gave him. Though I didn't really teach him anything.), I mantain my usual tone, and exchange electronic chat messages with her.
Strange. Before I can even complete my sentences, she already read through the meanings, and sent a responce. In fact, much faster than what I could reply back. The "XXXXX is typing" message flashed every few seconds after I was typing each line, and well, she completed almost every sentence. After a while, I realised I could do the same to her sentences too. The whole conversation ended up very… "selfly", if that's even a word.
The thing is – her responces were exactly what I was wanting to write. Scary. Very scary, I can assure you. It's like talking to yourself – you know what you're going to reply yourself. Sheesh.
Frankly, I do wish that I could post some logs here, to illustrate the point of how fluent the mind-guessing game, throughout the whole chat. It's exactly like I can read her, and she can read me back, but no, anonymity is emphasied here. (I don't really want her good friends coming after me with a cleaver or something for comparisons.)
Still, words are, after all just words (and I do think Beatrice would agree with this point). So, at one point of time or another, we actually covered the point on behaviours. Almost every other line of self-description, sounded just like what I would describe myself. Talk about randomness in humans, hur?
Oh, and yes, one self-description was that of implying the unique "player " characteristics found in the selected few, who even have the capabilities to do so, which of course, exclude physical appearences (if you're handsome/hot enough, you don't qualify as one – unless you forego that positive "ability" in the game). She messes with people too, and she dares to admit. Ahhh.
And, my definition of player is very stringent. Hence, the title of this blog, though I tend to be straying away as what koonchin pointed out in my tagbox several days back. Yes, the good old days. Though I still prefer the status quo now 