Off much deprived limelight

la mer

2009-06-19T22:13:00.004+08:00

Fingers are the most fascinating things, especially when the air is reeking of tension. They can pretend to dance and be birds on the blue carpeted floor, because you need them just so. I counted them twice over and ended up with 15 in disbelief, only to find the other five scrunched up in a fist in my pocket.

When eyes determinedly refuse to make eye contact, there's always the triangle of the forehead to speak to. Triangles can be fascinating too, if you let them. They become swimming little polka-dotted patterns of brown and pink with a luminosity of 70%. While fingers can transform, patterns have the ability to distract from the pain - which is most evident with just one look in the eye - and both can be counted.

In that one hour, I found myself with 80 fingers and 10 brown and pink dots each. I was glad that there wasn't a way to put an empirical number on this heart, at least not at the present moment where the air was supposed to be light with chatter and excitement. The numbers would possibly be most alarming, warranting immediate expert care.

Try as I may to kid and smile, all I could do was feel the weight. A burden that was, and a regret for its ever present presence. I saw, I heard but I could not move. And it was at that moment that I realised that it wasn't right to keep tearing at the brown paper covering this package. That's probably why the packaged burden, now tied up neatly in brown string, I will let, be chiseled off in whichever way fit.

I will lift up my eyes to you,
When my heart starts to fail,
Lord, your strength will prevail.

our unlikely two

2009-06-14T16:21:00.008+08:00

There are loose curls behind this girl; the eventual product of one straight and one curly. Behind those curls are two grumbling adults on a self-assigned construction project. They've stared at the materials together and sat down in turns, all to make happy a new mother who's a little more than a few hundred miles away.

Amidst the grumble, they heard my plea to lessen the loot which will, without a doubt be a more feasible solution to this seemingly impossible problem. They may have listened with an open mind but, only too predictably, let their kind hearts dictate the way to scratch out that idea.

It's been a little more than an hour since they began on this little 'problem question'. From creating a workable mess on the dining table, they've moved to the floor and back in succession. Amidst yelps from the cellophane tape, the almost inaudible pleas for perfection are greeted with grunts threatening to leave the project for nobler pursuits.

If this was a competition, I'll bet that the grumbling would turn into an out of breath screaming and anxious laughter. I can almost see the pushing away at the imaginary sweat of labor. And who can forget the repetitive self-encouraging chant that all will end well.

Nobody really knows what kind of team this unlikely two make. Not then, and quite possibly, not even now. A journey approaching seven and two, and they can be as petty as four year olds arguing over which crayon to use for the sky. They sit and giggle at Mr. Bean, with one yelling but laughing over not so silly antics while the other controls giggles with a twinkle of the eye.

They're neither as cultured nor as proper as most. You'll not find them decked in the best or quipped with the most intelligent responses. Instead they sit at corners or fill up the front row and yell mostly embarrassing lines and sing the loudest (out of tune). One makes the worst possible grammatical errors. The other has an anxiety level that sky-rockets even at the mildest situations. And both let sarcasm go unnoticed, just because.

Yet both have the genuine intention to get to know all they come across (with the most personal questions). They have the loudest laughs and the most embarrassing habits of all of us. They frustrate me and their other one to no end.

We often wonder how the church conformed to silence as the priest pleaded for objections.

And still, we sit in wonder at the journey the two have made and will continue to make as the Parental Unit.

forgiven

2009-05-01T18:22:00.006+08:00

It's been a good five days of listening, strumming, watching and sleeping. I have good showers to practice 'voice projection' without having to worry about not making it back in time to accompany the red study lamp through the 40+ pages of the next chapter.

There's now time for proper breakfasts, neglected lunches and forced dinners. I can laugh with you over the nonsense that never ceases to stop. I'm there through this time of sudden pain so you can grieve and remember. I can spend time with Thoughts and when it gives me leave, I can think of new one-liners!

I must say it feels good to be able to be here =)
Throw in a book or two, some cycling, a lesson or two on proper strumming and this would be a great close to what was the most stressful three months in a very long time. But as with all closes, some that you hope would never close will unavoidably do just that. I'll miss it and all the smiles it brought with the heaviest of hearts.

But I trust You'll pull me through (in excess) with beautiful reminders of Your grace like these:

Thank You for this. And so much more.

packing bags for a 'somewhere'

2009-03-22T19:22:00.006+08:00

The ray of sun hiding behind clouds just to the left of my window moved further down leaving the aqua blue clouds pining. And now those clouds are not seen as the darkness of the night enfolds everything. Soon the 7 on the clock will no longer be so permanent as 8 takes its rightful permanence throughout the next 60 minutes.

The difference that the past week brought was an interesting one. One life lost, two trips made and now, one remains. Some call it strength, I call it stuck. Over and again, the journey repeats - with no real way forward and none backward. They speak of Christmas cookies, food for tomorrow and the coming weeks but really, is that what's needed?

This talk of tomorrow bothers greatly as the basis for a now is not yet in place. The days are reduced to hours and minutes ignoring the difference that this very second could make. I do not know what this is or how to undo the missing knots. Perhaps dead knots are not what it seems.

Perhaps my human eyes fail to see.
I sincerely hope that's the case.

Some seem so slow sealing in them transitory permanence. There are those that sail by at paced motions planting assurance for a time that will soon come. More concern is showered on ones that leave in between without care for pleading cries of the lost.

Change, it's ever so permanent. Ever so painful yet beautiful.
Maybe soon, this too will change.

i see you in between blinks

2009-03-20T15:09:00.006+08:00

You're still there even when there are hurrying feet paced according to clicks of watches.
You try to speak louder than the sounds of creaking hinges from many closing doors.
You're around to say jaundiced fingers don't look too bad if they were acquired upon making dear friends happy.

You're the only one that will sit right here with me and tell me that sad smileys and a heavy heart is what You feel with me.

This is the wonder of the Blinking Cursor game.

right/left

2009-03-18T11:57:00.005+08:00

It hasn't got a name - at least an official one. There's a long list of statistical terms down the middle with accompanying check boxes flanking it on both the left and right side. As of now, the right side is aesthetically pleasing while the left is statistically pleasing.

I had until the end of last night to decide which check boxes to follow.

But, that's a decision still pending right now, 12 hours past the deadline.

What's so much of a bother is the fact that all I need is one (1) check box for a decision I know I want to take. I've tried coaxing it with good music and enough dark chocolate to get it to go into sugar shock. I've gone through the ever increasing number of bookmarks, now conveniently parked under 'stats' and to no avail. I've yabbered to it in statistical gibberish as consistently as I know how to come off as a nag but it won't budge.

As fun as this is, I can't help but to wonder why I'm inside or without the Farida. Missing it is an understatement.
I want in on the 'shining people out pursuing their bliss' and so the want and need war rages on.

Delayedgratificationdelayedgratificationdelayedgratification. =)

skepticism akin to the fence

2009-03-16T00:38:00.005+08:00

Tomorrow's the Big A or otherwise known as the hour-long trapping session where we transform into "equals" with a Doctor and her tutor.

I gulp every time that crosses my mind. Seeing it written makes me gulp even more - whatever happened to catharsis? Grr.

Ah, good thing for images from analogies - they work with the Imagination to give life to the most interesting characters who then do/say/laugh in the most peculiar ways. Heh. I now have a garden gnome struggling to keep it's hat out of the way while it climbs over the fence to get to the other side of the lawn. Uh oh, the gnome gave me a stare for writing about it without a letter of permission and informed consent so I can't say more.

Except: thank You for the neighboring lawn analogy!

. . . . .

The writing's on the wall - in caps and clear.

It hurt, like I pictured it would but the pangs were good (which was out of expectation And more than I could ask for) =)

You always, always know best!

.

2009-03-15T18:35:00.004+08:00

I hear you singing to my heart.

The first instinct I have is to reach out to hold on to the melody. Instead the words circle my heart challenging my brain to decipher them. I play with the few guesses I have going and weigh the pro/con list to ask if they're right. The cons are overwhelming the list thus far so I keep my thoughts to myself.

Intrigue won't leave me so more and even more equations come up to explain the melody and words you've strung together to call your song. I smile noticing little things that are just so you but stop myself knowing that I may not have the right to that.

We're no longer what we used to be. We've drifted apart. And we'll finally drift to become strangers.

These words are possibly the closest we'll ever be from here on out. And I don't know if that's good or bad.

But I do know: iMiss =)

flew/fell, why does it matter?

2009-03-11T21:03:00.003+08:00

Today, I flew.

Not like a bird or like a kite.
Something like a duck, but not really, no.

I took off with a splash and landed with a splash.
Oh what a splash, was that hard concrete crash.

Sat, I did while three hurried.
They asked, they held, they wobbled me to my feet
With, "Those slippers are not made with flippers, silly."

That cry, it was not all pain.
But from gain, of life,
Of love,
Of dearest ones.

To you, today I fell.
But really, today, I flew.

. . . . .

I think grazing my right arm and hurting the right side of my bottom has nudged into action the rhyming device in the left side of my brain. This, I believe is a milestone for research on the human body. I can picture it already, 'Right arm and bottom wired to rhyming device!' - yes, it'll have to end with an exclamation mark.

Cool feature story to add to the Health section of the news, won't you say =D

need a break, nibble a tim tam

2009-03-09T15:30:00.001+08:00

The morning was a beautiful color of gray with subtle rain that swept the winds away with its occasional heavy showers. It was the kind of day that you go out to splash at puddles with an umbrella resting on your left shoulder. The very type of day that reminds you that nothing is worth more than this that has been created for you.

Unfortunate as it seems, nagging workloads are still attention seekers even on days like this. They pester and kick and throw temper tantrums until you sit and pay them some due attention. And so, it's been a long day - of typing, drawing, thinking, arguing and feeling. All of that and yet the clock on my task bar insists its 3.00 PM.

I needed a break that was not a Kit Kat so I spent the little left in the wallet on Tim Tams. Ah bother, how to watch the art of hitting high cymbals (literally) and bob head to happy battle music like this! Oh well, the Hopes are not up but they're hanging in there =D

Feeling idle, I fidgeted with pictures while nibbling at Tim Tams - so you get to see some love courtesy of Inamorato.

morning starters

if you were a peeping tiff, this is what you'll see at dinner parties =D

a sit-in from the acquaintance from nature =))

1935 hours

1939 hours

The Ixus is phenomenal in so many ways - nothing like the big guns but phenomenal nonetheless.

kazoo's honour

2009-03-06T23:13:00.000+08:00

It came in an undated email with a three alphabet title that had bold fonts; somewhat reflective of the urgency I felt in the pit of my stomach. Coaxing the brain to swallow the words from the five paragraphs devoid of real emotion, was a task. Every word followed blood veins to the heart before they finally met up again in the brain. And by the time the words could settle down enough to call a toast and cheer to the wonders of the human brain, the heart had sunk to depths unknown.

I had to sit and hope that the line I threw with Godly bait would entice the heart enough to return to its rightful place. Please and it'll be okay appeased for a brief moment before the realness of the situation stung and bit away at bits of a now already numb heart.

The buzz from seasoned men putting/hiding away mess after a 9 to 5/6/7 day helped to keep the hands from sending texts that would most likely intrude on schedules that have been devoted to a One more important (or so I thought).

A solitary text went out to the biological sister which returned with advice to get ice cream as soon as possible.
Instead, I sat and typed my heart in a letter to You. I signed it love, tiff; those last two words took with it all that I had in me to leave ample room for a banner, cake and an entire marching band to cheer home a mending heart =)

This change was painful as it was a dear part of who I had become. But this must have been necessary and so I'm hopeful for all that has yet to come.

To that end, I don't think anyone could say it better than dear Kazoo:

Goodbye =)

Newsflash: Team Improbable defeats the Control Freak

2009-02-13T19:38:00.009+08:00

Twelve minutes to do this before the husky Middle Eastern middle-aged female voice that I assigned the text (to stop it sulking from feeling so impaired) comes to drag me away. So I'll be quick and try for brevity - let's see if that really is possible with me, hah!

It's not very great right now but that's okay. There's the thing with the texts and materials, the where-to-now-mister-busker-man at the end of two months and not being worthy of RM150 worth of glorious books. Oh, and not forgetting the extraneous noise (to emphasize how distracting it is) from trying to get an 'a-ha!' out of a lesser evil. Or was it the lesser evil from the 'a-ha!', hmm. All that, and the lack of nutrition (in the form of apple crumble!).

But, I'd like to say: it's all Good because I know where to depend and, I got an hour of Phineas and Ferb (!) (!) And because I got a couple of pictures to fidget with thanks to a special sit in from an acquaintance from nature.

Ah, two minutes past D-time so I've to go before the textbook voice (poor thing doesn't have a name, heh) starts to 'try' scaring me into returning to the study.

Next treat: Farida (!) =D

lesser evil, don't elude me

2009-02-10T19:04:00.004+08:00

I've been biting my lips all day, pursing them when I get tired. The brilliant insight that's supposed to come with the grandeur of an 'a-ha!' eludes me. I've cleaned my laptop once over, walked in the rain without the umbrella twice and tried to stop 'naturally flowing' rain three times. One, two ,three - nice, well not really.

I've got a headache.

I need a hug. Or, maybe I don't.
I don't know.

Sometimes, I just wonder why it has to be so hard on this particular pathway but seemingly within attempt at others'.
I'm not complaining, just comparing - which is just as bad or maybe worse.

I know nothing is too hard for You so on my knees I ask, pleasepleaseplease let this be okay.

buddy system

2009-02-09T16:51:00.005+08:00

The torn picture of the blue and pink stick figure in the upper left hand corner seemed at first, a tad too conservative. If there was a ploy to increase readership, it has clearly failed. The title was less than welcoming and it was without sensational colors to accompany. Yet these thousand or so words stood shoulder to shoulder with dignity and spaces in between. Aesthetics were cared for in the form of bolded words as they found their places in between breaks of paragraph.

It was difficult to block out the happy jazz resounding in the room to settle down with the strict school teacher voice I decided I would have the author sound in my head. At moments, the strict school teacher voice turned into a giggly girl before screaming with anger at the insolence and complete disregard for matters that she deemed obvious.

I was afraid, somewhat amused, but still afraid. The ideas stared you in the face, inviting a rebuttal (if you dared raise your hand). Open the Word, it challenged, and see if these are wrong.

Her words reprimanded, warned and comforted. She had citations and convincing elaborations for each.

This was not one where you're caught off guard, grasping on to every fibre of the frayed rope thrown at you. No, this wasn't one of those. It was one where you're thrown off a mountain; free-falling to the valley below thinking these will be the last thoughts in your brain only to bounce on the trampoline that He kept hidden, just for you.

When it comes down to it, coming right out to say that this is my doing couldn’t be more painful. I’ve in fact broken journalism rule numero uno: Thou shalt not make an ass (I like to think this meant donkey because the picture of a braying donkey with flapping ears can in the least, soften the blow) out of ume (read: assume).

There has been no doubt that this was the case from the very first but these words have shaken me into stopping in my tracks to admit. With that first, the rest will be done with borrowed strength, mainly because nothing in me indicates that I can do any of this on my own.

Thank You, for the trampoline; for the wind that’s bringing my curtains to life – alive enough to hug me; and for the beautiful grace of Your unceasing love.

this, love

2009-01-28T22:16:00.006+08:00

I am convinced that the meaning to most everything is revealed in post-rain wind envelopes containing glitters from dew lingering in the air. The most complicated ideas come undone under neon street lights with little showers of pseudo rain. It's a most intriguing thing. Perhaps the big guns would learn better to hold the reins of power after indulging in one such as this.

As you walk pass hibiscus and rose bushes that may seem to belong to Day, you realize that their versatility is something all should attempt for. Their ability to now look most comfortable swaying with the wind while simultaneously dancing to the music pulsing through you, is something.

These sights and smells shake awake all sleeping senses, not abruptly, but with enough subtlety to generate awe. It makes appreciation come most naturally. Much like poetry taking its first few breaths in a world reborn. Surely, you think, this must have been the cause for the joy you listen to.

What then could you make of hearing the first patters of beauty hitting your roof in between plucking at strings. The cold floor and the spinning fan blades above accentuates the smiling silence of successful attempts only to mask the desperation of each wrong. I say it gives courage for an awaiting journey. This is the secret ingredient in every cup of Milo, every word written in given wisdom, every message inscribed in stone.

This is love. Unceasing love.

"He shall come down like rain upon the grass before mowing,
Like showers that water the earth." (Psalm 72:6)

Hands down, it's the best gift given.

like the undecided clouds, outside

2009-01-27T17:14:00.009+08:00

There have been many idle minutes now, stacking up against each other in that little corner that I am expertly blocking out of view. From the corners of my eyes, I still see the glares as more gets shoved in. I am entirely to blame - yes, that's me admitting to it.

Little projects have come up; ones that determine grades and others that determine the way I throw my footsteps in the coming hours, days, months and possibly year. Instead, I sit and think. Think and sit. Bake and think. Write and think. So, you see, Thoughts may need to go for a bit.

Quite a task when distractions that laugh and give voice to the crazy ideas that we're all thinking, forget to do just that.

As is usual, smiles that have been much missed are still being missed. You would think that I would've learnt to forget this feeling in due time. It's odd that I'm half wishing I'll master this skill but at the same time hope I don't need to.

. . . .

I want to stand here on one feet and detail the silent reasons that make my heart flutter with concern. All in one breath, to you. Not for sympathy, but for a hug. One long hug and a smile right after. That would be a cheering on like no other; an armor for the journey.

Why do we have to be social beings? Grr.

. . . .

And now, for some good cheer. Here's what these eyes soaked in during the first few weeks of the year.

With, love =)

fix

2009-01-19T14:22:00.007+08:00

It's the day after. One day past and it's still as real as it was when it happened.

I've gone from scrutinizing to find for a reason to trivializing it with humor. Back and forth, over and again; in my head and out loud in typed words. When you come down to it, I don't even know if this reason that I've been feeding on is real. It's substantial enough to stand on its own but, 'but' (s) are always lurking in between walls to whisper doubts.

Well, it's not very important but it is. It very well could be forgotten but it's not.
In fact its floating around in Trebuchet font size 20 with silver trimmings tailing it.

This morning's jog was supposed to clear the mind and blare The Album Leaf into every empty corner but the play bites and clawing of an excited stray turned me around after two rounds. Parentals are insistent that needles will provide the best help but I'm thinking my immune system will do a better job.
But that hypothesis has not been through rigorous experimental procedures so if I run around you in circles, you know why.

Hunger after a semi-jog is a funny thing. It can go dormant after a few gulps of water, only surfacing at select moments while the apple crumble was being thrown together (i.e. apple chopping, apple boiling, flour crumbling).

This was a greenappleholic's dream breakfast (or brunch, if we're going for accuracy).

And soon after there was another try with 'egg whites whipped to medium peaks' simply because the oven was still hot. But that couldn't quite stand up to the apple crumble.

Now, I'm off to hurt four fingers on my left hand, all for the grand goal of 'transitioning smoothly'.

I can look you in the eye and say nothing is a problem. But I'll rush right through and not register it when I tell you that my heart and mind are not thinking.

=)

just, just.

2009-01-16T13:02:00.002+08:00

Asiatic black bears or more fondly known as moon bears live in tight cages on farms in China with catheters to their gall bladders so farmers are able to get gall for medicinal purposes. Often, the catheters are unhygienically inserted causing the bears to suffer from infections. Efforts towards closing the farms have been somewhat successful in reducing the number of moon bears in captivity but the bears still require rehabilitation and the farmers, awareness.

They don't look unhappy, just indifferent.

They have fur on their cheeks that I deduce if combed straight out could have them be in perpetual smiles.

. . . . .

This is just one of those.

be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight

2009-01-10T12:53:00.005+08:00

Arrows have never been emblazoned in neon colors on my maps. There was always an absence of breadcrumbs on seemingly important crossroads. And the voice on the GPS system? It becomes quiet when traffic is at its worst.

The world of aggression was weighed upon this shoulders and it was presented not very differently in that sense.
There were sympathetic pats on shoulders, repeat of verses (to convince, not console), and most embarrassingly, red noses and swollen eyes. Perhaps I didn't know it back then but not asking for a reassignment was the best thing I did despite seeing the comfort at which all else enjoyed.

This only brings to light that Hindsight has been instrumental in seeing that You still work with and for me.

great Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
still be thou my vision, O Ruler of all

For the sake of brevity, this is all You.
Thank You.

set, up

2009-01-09T12:59:00.009+08:00

The stationery in its case was not new. Neither was the case. The tote bag carries sights and sounds from back when writing on the side was still an option to flirt with. The same red seats are still caved in and the child-like comfort that comes with being wedged in one remains.

Faces that came around held the same familiarity from three weeks before but perhaps with more cheer. When you come down to it, it's easy to see that the categories that exist are inevitably the same; eyes - check, smile - check, wave - check.

And yet, something was amiss.

The sounds have changed.
Texts make echoing sounds into the world without ears to capture and correspond to them.

Voices that formed the basis of tickling smiles are muted and missing.

That one supposedly annoying note of sound that's something of a syllable but definitely more descriptive than that, is missing. Never would I have guessed that I would miss it and yet I do.
More than most, which is why the dread of the coming courses of action are so difficult subdue.

Because nothing is ever always, always.

. . . . .

To admit defeat was not even in my list of options but it being the topmost on your lists stumped me. The revelation that many ships have sunk or is about ready to is disappointing. I won't lie and say I didn't wish things were different. Perhaps desiring for sink-proof ships is a little beyond real but is this so meaningless that it is easier to waive off than build upon? Or maybe you're in on a secret formula to watch a sinking ship go its course without a wrenching heart.

Pray tell so I too can forget mending holes and willingly let it sink.

. . . . .

This writing, you think it's writing when it's not really writing cause next to writing, it stands not even like writing because writing is writing and writings like this can only hope to slip through by being in the written form and perhaps be considered writing but really, it isn't writing because real writing appeals and none of this appeals because stiff seems to be the game play that doesn't want to leave and be far away from this writing.

And so, stiff she is.

. . . . .

The bunch of Hebrew words now repeating in my head tell me that: provide, He will; faithful, He will be; trust, I must.

Precisely why I will have to sit out probably among the best gigs ever to grace this part of the universe only to have a private 'gig' with recordings from the Scotts.
And why dear you will remain unwritten with Hope for it knowingly dismissed.
And why the silliness that jerk tears that were not worth the trouble will be made insignificant.
Also why hearing from the white coats lately have become less of what it used to be =)

please and thank You.

. . . . .

This is my heart (without some)that is now very much best friends with the one called up son and/or daughter of set.

don't think just shoot...

2008-12-21T17:27:00.003+08:00

...and murder me while you're at it.

Her beauty mesmerizes like none other in the range. For an entry in the starter series, she actually has features. She churns out among the best:

She's a dream I'll still find myself saving and not reaching 'cause guilt would eat away at whatever joy from the Diana Edelweiss.

And i hear the question about the compromise with the Holga.
My most kind answer would be: this is but only a dream =)

which ship do you treasure the most?

2008-12-21T16:23:00.003+08:00

Voiced worries audible at every turn of the corner should have been good enough if the exaggerated nudges weren't. The burden of proof is proving to be one that is more a suffering than joy. On record, this is a one-nil to old-school conservatism. The banner over this roof is grudgingly brought down but with loud applause for the play that were put up for battle.

I guess it was no coincidence then, when I started the day two days ago singing without a way to stop,
So the best thing I can give to me
Is for me to go
Leave you alone
Cause I've got growing up to do
*With specified changes emphasized whenever they came up.

He knows what He's up to.
I guess, I'll just, well, to put it right out there, will miss this.
=)

knolls and dells of fall

2008-12-16T00:16:00.014+08:00

They have been there through it all. Both of them. The cries, complains, sighs, laughs, giggles, eye-rollings; everything.

The past three months have been nothing short of challenging for most everyone and so turning around for support would've been unwise. After all each had with them their own share. Just as I had a dreadful roll to unroll, they would've had an equal or bigger roll to let free. There's no one to blame for that; such was the heft that the semester held. Trying to be there for each other showed through text messages that were less than engaging sprinkled with a little sympathy and exaggerated empathy. Heck, I can't go without admitting to guilt for that at times.

That was why these two have been the best refuge that was.
When the parentals attempted but were unable to stomach the technical terms in the course, these two listened attentively and contributed.
When I decided I would steal the keys to a tissue paper factory so there would be no need to restock for a marathon style runner of a nose, they mocked me with a stare that confirmed that such a feat would be impossible in my condition.
They held on to beautiful droplets of rain to provide for a beautiful sight so staying in to conquer phrases like mid terms, deadlines, finals wouldn't be half as bad.
They danced to the wind that couldn't play with my hair and told of the stories from faraway when boredom nudged at giving up.

If both the trees outside could peep into my window at this, I would show them these that I show you:

call(s) to the corporate(s)

skipping the jam with the one now working and another

feeding back feedback at OBE-city

excel formulas to the rescue

spss: silly people seeking silliness

lights galore

the cause for teary eyes

the ever-unexpected m&ms on top of a cake with icing

=) big pencil/marker

66 X 2 = complaining printer and ink tank

The past three months have been a time of sorts with tripping being a recurrent theme. It was so much more easier to stand up with borrowed strength and given grace =)

I would never go back and undo any of it.

My heart goes out to both the trees (and all else) for sticking around.

boom de yada enthusiast

2008-12-15T23:26:00.003+08:00

The moon is a faint blurry circle outside my window. The hum of the fan is in rhythm with Regan on the iTunes and the blinking orange LED on the iPod is dancing annoyingly to all the sounds in this room. If you could hear the whispers of this heart along with all the other sounds around, you would possibly press both hands on both ears and scream for it to stop. Yes, it's that muddled.

And amidst all the muddles, you seem to consistently come up however far away you are/could be/may be. If why is the next thing out of your mouth, don't bother. I'm struggling myself.

There seems no rational explanation for this; at least none that I can put my finger on. It's like sitting for an exam that you wrote but having no way of getting a passing grade regardless of how hard you try. I could give you a hundred different metaphors but we'll be nowhere different from where we are right now.

With the exception that a little (or a lot of) time will have come to pass with us talking.
Exactly like how the blurry circle that was the moon is now no more outside my window.

Perhaps like all of that, you too will no longer be in the middle of this muddle.
But somehow I'm dreading that more than I should.

turkey thoughts

2008-12-06T22:41:00.004+08:00

Every time I log on, it goes right back to that dashboard. The millions of memories that have come to be built on that one space feels impossible. After all, this is only halfway through.

It's been quite a trip; journey-wise and falling-down-wise. A lot of it have been mind numbingly surreal where your voice gets stuck, turns into a squeak, then disappears into the air that was supposed to carry its almost weightless weight. The trips on the trip were trips that you would never dream of un-tripping because each made the trip.

The trips on the trip will be tripped upon when current trips are done tripping over.
Now, now, did you actually read all that trips? Some trip you must have had, heh =p

. . . . .

There's this thought in my head; I wish I could tell you. This thought, it tempts me to give voice to it. I half believe it's lies that all of this will be a great deal better after. But somehow I've not found courage to do as it says.

All of this is amplified from its three-year maturity. I suspect its because my heart secretly feeds it when I turn away.
I've whispered it to the air a hundred thousand times. I could sit and twirl ribbons around my fingers until all of the ten I have are mummified and this thought will still taunt.

I've screamed it to You because You are all that I have.

It's all at Your feet, I trust You will do as should be done.

This is all there is to do to keep this thought safe as currently is.

keep it there, in my head

2008-11-17T18:04:00.007+08:00

Today I had three ringgit sitting in my pocket.

I fancied getting a bar of beautifully textured white Toblerone. Or a sexy caramel Mars bar. I pictured the purple goodness of ribena saying hello to the taste receptors on my tongue.
And then concerned faces and 'motherly' voices pushed their way through these thoughts to start the age old lecture on proper eating habits.

So I made a left instead of driving ahead to the trusty 7eleven with
'got three dollars burning in my pocket, i know, i know
i got, i got, i got to keep it there'
singing in my head.

It made my heart sink. It brought to mind the loss of the past week. It drilled in this head that memories of the melody and rhythm are all that's left - nothing more - cause even youtube doesn't have it. Viruses that steal memories in pictures and songs are by far the most cruel. Even the cheating computer whiz that charged way more than necessary isn't as bad.

...is sad.

This, however:
'all my troubles in the rear view mirror, i know, i know
i got, i got, i got to keep them there'

has made it just that little bit better.

he knew even before i told him

2008-11-15T00:26:00.009+08:00

There were two extra light bulbs in the floor. I wondered for a very long time if they noticed.
The way my vision would blur before getting the focus right on the light bulbs provided much comfort. Maybe it was the momentary excuse to keep this head down. Or the fact that none else were using the light bulbs as a refuge. But whatever it was, it provided much comfort; perhaps too much.

. . . . .

My toes would curl tightly, holding the other toes in tight embraces every time I heard the question mark.
The black lines at the bottom of my white pullstring pants was the most interesting of patterns in the room.
The guitar is the best instrument to be created in times when a tune is required most desperately (and every other time too!).
Never have I cherished the freezing air conditioning more than today; the inhumane temperature made being alive just that little bit more worthwhile.
The voice in this head would scream thoughts but the voice from the throat would shrink away into a whisper only to go unnoticed.

Those were the thoughts of tonight - yes, tonight I thought in one liners. The full stop at the end of each sentence posed much fear but was strangely comforting. I'm aware that this is a contradiction of sorts but that is something I don't think I'll be able to change.

To have gladness be the result of the little episodes of awkwardness and discomfort wasn't too much of a surprise. I trusted the footsteps next to mine and now have been iniated in with a porridge of some sort. Right now, this chalk-drawn box around me will have to expand because my forcing at its corners won't stop until there's indication that I should.

Thank You.

for the white E.T.(s)

2008-11-11T21:59:00.003+08:00

For the uninitiated, it must have seemed like a death sentence was just passed for the entire 100-something people in the auditorium. The amount of gasps coupled with clutching of chests(hearts?) and being stunned to the spot they were standing in and in the very exact pose seemed a little hilarious though.

I guess being cooped up in an auditorium with non-functional air-conditioning could seem er, devastatingly painful. Yes, I admit that the way the warm air hits you in the face the moment you pull open the door was less than comfortable but the reactions garnered from the 'official confirmation' from the lecturer was haha, too funny.

To be fair, the management brought two E.T.-like portable air-conditioning units so we would not recycle our neighbors' air. This is just one of those, 'E.T. blows/sucks air, er, home?'. It's as if, if allowed the knee-height white devices would roller its way around the room blowing air (and running all over your feet cause it can't see) to find a way home. It's so endearing that I almost wish it's home is my home!

As if that's not enough, it has anaconda white hoses for a tail with a sucking mouth at the end to er, I presume to blow out air (?). How, you tell me, to not be fascinated?

This is one device that is not only endearing and white but also helps when the room is too warm/stuffy. Too cool not to go clicker-crazy which was unknowingly observed by classmates. That's why studying with psychologists' to be(s) is difficult - nothing gets past them.

But it's cool la, come on, I can't be the only one to find it fascinating.
Don't lie now, I see you!

br

2008-10-26T16:19:00.008+08:00

I'd like to speak. I'd like to scream it from the roof top of the nearest tall building.
I'd like so much to let it echo and hope you hear it and not react the way I know you most inevitably would.
I'd like to do it before my heart gives up on me.

But I don't.

I'd say it was ironic that it was called 'Id'. Maybe it was no chance.
The almost empty theatre was testament for many things that I wished and could not have. It prodded at that was left to linger in the mind and never brought to action. It would be nice to have more of the red light moments where they drifted into daydream and acted out. But there are none to shine red lights in real life when you need one.

I wanted to go but I didn't. All because the voice in my head insisted on not being an extra load.

Difficult circumstances call for foolproof solutions.
And that is why I'm going to go lighten this heavy heart and be rid of the bitter taste in my mouth with world class chocolate or green tea or rainbow sherbet =)

edit:

There were no answers at the bottom of the cup but there were a couple of smiles =)

ctrl+s-igh

2008-10-04T13:39:00.005+08:00

That's three times in the span of two days, with the last of which sustaining the most damage. Three may seem like a pretty small number but for each of the three, more hours than I care for is spent repairing, amending, remembering and writing.

The first was greeted with an aimless walk around the home, the second with a prayer giving thanks but the last with warm tears and cries asking for answers. Eight pages of (forced) labor reduced miraculously to seven with huge gaps between texts, chunks of paragraphs encrypted and sentences moved to where they don't belong. Oh, joy.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this machine is the resting place for the soul of a tyrant in the field. So the paper wasn't up to standard, he/she didn't have to kill it, a short note would have done it, really. Whoever postulated that procrastination is a bad thing may want to reconsider going back to the drawing boards to attempt a rewrite.

The very thought of losing more words is one that haunts.
The best words were removed. The ordinary ones are left to stand the test of grading.

ctrl+s, you're a terrible terrifying testing tyrant that makes me recoil in pain and lash out in anger.

you scored a great one, don't let go

2008-10-01T22:27:00.003+08:00

This doesn't have a name. Either that or I refuse to name it. Although, there are a few things that do have names in my head at this precise moment. Things like awe, jealousy, goodwill, support, and oh, awe (yes, again).

This only reaffirmed what I already knew - that it could never be. The one thing that gets to me is how my eyes still run down the list of names searching. For someone who knows, this is silly.

How do you stop? How do you do it if it's all you've been doing for all this time?

Catching it by the collar and then leaving it at the altar is the most brilliant thing I could have done. And that's what I did. Unfortunate as it may seem, this does not account for the countless times it surfaces. It's persistent and annoying, eventually causing too many whispers to the air.

you don't even know what you do to me.

. . . . .

Average isn't something to paint a banner and throw a party for. It's one thing to know and be unable to have it seem intelligent and quite another to keep bumping into the hard top of the ceiling. What is this, I ask myself. There are too many possibilities for answers. Some that I clearly know and have come to accept and others that feel like an assassination plan on this heart.

This struggle, do you struggle with it too? Oh, bother. Thoughts are troubling little things that bite away at what little space you have of time, pushing as far as it would dare go only to stop midway through, echoing the hysterical laughter it intended from the very beginning.

I pull. I push. But for what and how long? This melancholic tone, this almost pretentious piece of writing; all for what? Some attention? Some display of sympathy? If you know me, you would understand that this would be the last of my intentions. A few know this to be an outlet - not of emotions - for a part of me that I let die at the beginning of the journey for a proper education. Well, that's at least what I let them feed me.

After reading her, it's impossible not to see the talent that she let groom into a potential that could go nowhere except blossom. It's difficult then to sit here and not wonder. Mine in comparison just seems like child's play. Yes, I admit, social comparison is an evil concept.

She's a great one and don't you dare let her go.

i want to remember

2008-09-28T23:25:00.003+08:00

It's so grand how there's no need to stand out or attempt at being excellent; no need to be associated to a distinguishing factor so my name doesn't slip.
It's awesome beyond expectation and terribly terrifying that every gory detail, every nonsensical thought is never hidden, and still there's this need to want to know moremoremore.

He knows me by name (!) =)

"You aren't an accident. You weren't mass-produced. You aren't an assembly-line product. You were deliberately planned, specifically gifted, and lovingly positioned on this earth by the Master Craftsman." - Max Lucado

thank You Mister Master Craftsman for loving me so

hello, i got something to tell you

2008-09-27T13:53:00.005+08:00

- these little wonders still remain -

Tapirs have 14 toes - four on the front and three on the back; on each side.
I like how they have this very unnoticeable difference (unless you stare or watch Animal Planet!). I like how they have a nose and tongue that can wrap around bananas to pull into their mouths. I like how they have really sharp teeth in their mouths so they can bite away at the enemy (if the need arises).

I like that He took so much care to take care of them.

- i never get around under the sun and the stars and I may be always frowning but wonder you will see, under the sun and the stars you will turn around and I'll be emotion -

The way cartoon can reveal profound insights is awe-worthy.
I sat with a tiny boy with a head triple his size and a voice that reminded me of Dash.
He was intelligent, he was determined and he was sad. He had a sadness in his animated eyes that didn't take me too much to notice. It was painful but it was real.

His story changed for the best and not in the outlandish ways that most fairy tales would end; it was within means.
He still had much to go through but he knew the pain to get to it was worth every single tear at the heart.

He's my hero =)

- in the end we will only just remember how it feels -

that's all...? really?!

2008-09-26T21:04:00.003+08:00

It's a day when iPods are kept in pants pockets; a day when you do small dances with the weight on your back because you see no other way out.
It's a day when milo feels heavier than an entire meal.

It's...

...pain lah

I wish it didn't have to.

Maybe the next post will be a happy one? =)
(i hope)

my pained teddy made strong

2008-09-17T16:12:00.005+08:00

They never get it right no matter how many times we've corrected them.
We've tried making it seem like a secret spelling play. We've tried doing it with pronounced lip movement and syllable emphasis. We've even tried rationalizing so they would remember better and yet they still can't get it right.

He's given up and although it's his name, I'm still at it.
I can't possibly stop cause my thoughts tell me that it diminishes a little from the ties we have and that scares me. It may be a silly mistake but it just bothers that if not for my birth certificate, we'll technically not belong.

There she is, all decked in green repeating instructions and she's saying it with a pronounced 'u'. It bugs me and I want to say something but I let her go on. Her green uniform must already carry much more than it usually should and so adding this to that may not be a very wise thing to do. She seemed serious but with his charm, he's gotten her to smile. It amazes me how his simple lines could make everyone smile and some even to tell him about their lives.

She's given him a big zip lock bag filled with many more smaller zip lock bags, his pirate gear and some tape. He's always been amused that they have always encouraged being pirates and now he gets to be one too. She repeats that it's important to transform into a pirate at bed time and he smiles.

He's ready to go. He's ready to finally start walking again but she denies him this.
She forces him into a wheelchair and he muses that we should "accidentally" take one home and I promise we'll try. So we're all ready to make a quick one across the parking lot but the guards follow him closely. Frustrated, he stands up, smiles and raises his hand to say thank you and then continues to walk to the car.

This is done, for now.
But we'll continue to declare Him to be our source of strength.

He has been amazing and that's evident in him. I'm overwhelmed by Him and him.
Thank you, all you who have cared.

like going on a holiday

2008-09-14T23:36:00.005+08:00

The skin on my fingers are peeling and that's quite a pretty sight - at least some would say it is.

I'm thinking of that song where she apologizes profusely. I'm thinking of the thing that she did that had hurt that badly. I'm thinking maybe she left the white m&m's sprinkled double chocolate cake on the table for too long causing it to melt and thus ruin the reinforcement/treat she prepared. I'm thinking the kitty got crazy that the cake was ruined and went away sulking.

Do you know that a kangaroo can have three babies at once, well, technically at least. And that they're the only mommies that would throw their joey and start jumping away at the hint of danger. The narrator wasn't very nice to the kangaroo mommies.

She's packing for tomorrow and it reminds me of the inevitably long whispering. I trust fully but it's heavy - is that possible?

This is one of those days when I challenge you to walk a hundred steps in the opposite direction without turning back to look.
This is one of those times when my mouth spells out for you to please leave.

But you don't have to, really.

she literally ironed her hair

2008-09-09T23:06:00.003+08:00

I was half an hour into the life of a young adult with pink eye shadow, pink lipstick and pink earrings before it occurs to me. I would sit with her for another half an hour before I let her be the 'bitter truth' she was supposed to be.

They showed me a picture of a tiny her in dark blue overalls with a white butterfly on her fingers and then soon after she walks down the tracks in a field waving impossible signs at men behind barb wires. She's supposed to be the mommy with four little children holding on to every free side of her skirt but she's in here, kissing the foreheads of her little babies in pictures taken much too long ago.

This would never have been if the neighborhood was safe. If her father had not started up the violence that would soon devour his entire family and with it, other families. To know that he admits to not knowing any of the younger generation gang members or even care about what happens to them is ridiculous. He's old and can barely keep his head up but still does not admit to being silly.

She knows that she's only loyal to a name and yet she risks securing freedom over arranging for the murder of a disloyal member. She puts her family on the line to be loyal to the name that defined her for almost a decade of her life.

As I follow her and watch her hide secret messages in food trays, I pray she gets hit in the head by an invisible force, goes into a deep sleep for a week only to wake up just in time to sign her parole papers. But there she was, still writing away to another member about 'instructions'.

I was rooting for her with all my heart.
Because I realised under different circumstances, it could've easily been me up on that screen under lockdown.

flamingos are collectivistic!

2008-09-09T21:40:00.005+08:00

"i'm worried. it seems so uncertain."
"just. trust."
"but they did things so much more differently there."
"they saw you as an opportunity there."
"true."
"look, flamingos instinctively queue to have a dip. they're the only living creatures able to live in geyser-contaminated corrosive pond water. i declare flamingos as the coolest ritualistic birds ever!"
*forgets about everything*

That's twice now that animal planet has successfully bulldozed heavy things that needed shoving away.

i might start to religiously follow episodes by the end of this.

because they want to see you

2008-09-03T16:52:00.004+08:00

Do you notice how the tiles on the floor all meet each other at some point? That each tile is somehow connected to the other regardless of how faraway it is.

There were four tiles that were different, even special - they were under a lady with snow-white hair and a smile that matched the deliriously happy one on the banner. It's clear that both were smiling for absolutely different reasons. I, for one preferred the smile of the one sitting in the seat above these four tiles.

She had moments when she looked as if her thoughts blocked out the rest of the world. Nothing seemed to matter outside her head. She seemed the type that would have thoughts that could burn a hole in your own thoughts.

There were moments when nothing outside her and the two people next to her existed. These were moments when her smile and laugh was cheery and genuine and oblivious to the world watching her. If time could slow down, it would, if only to keep her good cheer for a little longer.

As all were in that waiting area, she had worries. Sometimes she had a look so forlorn that you think of things to do so her laugh would return. But nothing brought it back. Nothing silly and even nothing appealing to her maternal instincts brought it back.

Nothing could have done it the way her son did with a less than funny joke about numbers on the screen. He had a power none had. Their hands accidentally brushing while he shook his head figuring out how to work a presentation for work brought her slight smiles. His hand over her shoulder made that slight smile a little wider.

His acceptance at taking care of everything but strong refusal at having to carry her lady bag made all of us smile.

It's nice to think that just like the four tiles beneath me are connected to the four tiles beneath her, we could somehow be connected too.

Because then, I could offer her white chocolate(that would match her hair) for making major, could be more, no guarantee just that little bit more bearable.
I'd love to sit with her some day and tell her how these subtle moments helped me to trust through a heavy heart.

give me a buzz, anytime.

2008-08-29T23:29:00.000+08:00

These few words can't quite cut it.
It won't express the finality of it and neither will it convey the closure that perhaps is needed in things like this. This may be for personal reasons that even I have yet to correctly identify. I'd like to think that this could be the stand-in for the almost celebratory ending that was envisioned and soon after discarded.

I'll concede and say that there were times when it was exhilarating to have the opportunity to see the immense grace that could be showered in times of need. When Mamee Monsters came out to play and focal people stay around from concern only to let you turn off all the lights, just because. It's hard not to be grateful when there are unpredictable chair-quakes, combination of concerned smiles and asking after and even negotiations with the 'ghastly NLs' for a push in deadlines.

However it wouldn't be right not to acknowledge how the world wide web can be exhaustive when given almost the whole of eight hours for weeks on end. And that most say that rainy days are 'bad weather days'. I've tried in subtle ways to change that but it's proving difficult for the expats from cold countries - after all, they've been expecting 'obscene amounts of sunshine and warmth'.

Throughout this time, there were wonderful people who could turn almost immediately at the hint of a scandal. There were funny ones that bond the rest together to create the amazing unit they've become. And there are ones faced with decisions on a choice between an integrity and living up their potentials.

I've spoken and spoken to people who are complete strangers about the most intimate details in their days and I must say that it was interesting and also shiver-worthy. The last few have been filled with questions and thoughts and prodding into the 'wants' and 'don't wants'.

Sure, this was the whole point of the experience but who'd guess the amount of thinking it would require in the after process. All seem like very viable options with only the best as objectives but which would do?

None of it was intentional. None of it was planned. But every time, the same responses were garnered:
Oh. So fast! All the best okay.
But you just joined! All the best alright.
Think as carefully as you possibly can. All the best!
But the best possible by me is:
You know who to put your trust in. You know this.

There's this collection of captured moments in my head. Moments when things were most vulnerable and moments when vulnerability cannot and will not be tolerated and moments when nothing but admiration and a strong salute should be expected.
I have it but telling you about it would be stealing from people's lives and publishing it. That would not be right. But if you care enough and have read enough, ask and I'll give them to you with masked faces and scratched out names.

Yes, it came to an end.
And yes, due to unforeseen circumstances, what was supposed to be the 'end with a bang' turned out to be a quiet slipping away.

But if you know me, you'll know that it was all I would've ever wanted.

she's not a cold feet kinda girl

2008-08-23T22:32:00.004+08:00

Cold, pale toes.

The reason for that is obvious and yet there's room to wonder. Was it the rain? Was it the idea that what is there is only a semblance of an idea? Or could it be from the fear of falling over from dizziness at staring at these cold pale toes while standing straight on this stool?

Maybe it was none of those.

It could be from walking towards that question - the one that you and even I wonder about come Saturday night. Or even walking away from it at a steady pace. Do you care if I walk away and hope being still will solve it? What if being still just leads to that, stillness? What then?

Numb, cold, pale toes.

I had the brilliant idea of taking a drive with the radio turned off and the windows wound down and now on top of numb, cold, pale toes; there's numb, cold, pale fingers. But I'm glad for them. It's a good feeling to be alive enough to feel them (or not feel them).

It's a question with two choices with very many questions tailing behind like a trail of black ants.

A correct answer is no guarantee but an answer that comes from a belly warm from a mug of hot milo and a long whispering could possibly be the best there is.

like a hermit in my own head

2008-08-17T16:55:00.006+08:00

This was what it was supposed to be about.
This breeze, this setting of the sun, this being by myself.

While there's no one else at home, there are touches of each everywhere. There's the way the glass doors are wide open on both sides with the curtains drawn and the abstract art made from powder on the bathroom tiles and how one of the three rooms is in a mess from a hurried 'getting-ready-to-go-out-later!'.

The order of things today are dictated by the whim - something that used to be a thought and nothing more.

The softener-smelling, creased Rolling Stones tee fresh from the drying line lying on the couch only serves to show the complete lack of order in today. The first of which that is being thoroughly ignored is the chiming clock because time has had no authority on today =)

Phrases from three books stuck in this head present very much like a lure to abandon this and go back to them.

It has been awhile since the cloth bookmark has flown through pages like it has today.

And then to have that with Ben Gibbard live. Okay not live, but amplified to sound as good as it would be had he been live. Hitting play on this same cd three times today has been the best part but don't tell the owner of this amplifier that or he'll have a sulky frown on his face saying 'play the other cds la!'.

It's intriguing how there are more from which I could choose from and yet my fingers only want to hit play over and again on this particular one. It's just that it's difficult to get tired of this and perhaps that's why it's best that I'm here today by myself.

In between fluttering curtains, there's a view with dancing leaves and darkened clouds in the distance. Ah, the hope of rain, none could stand up to that except maybe black umbrellas and rainbow sprinkled ice cream. The reluctance to move to switch on the lights leave the room illuminated in a way these eyes has never seen in the longest time. It's the best way to stare at moving fan blades.

This was today.
This was what it had to have been about in the word.
This, today, has been exactly the today of dreams.

there's another handful where that came from

2008-07-24T23:17:00.004+08:00

What's with the blaming?

Yes, what's with that. You can ask that question over and again and the very best that could possibly happen is that the question will bounce off the walls around you. At the end of the bouncing spree, you'll see it parked right in your face in the very same way it left you.

Its difficult but I'll let it fall on these shoulders. All is well now that it's gone down that way. So why this gnawing feeling? What's with the smudged cheeks and rough wiping away? Why the difficulty in holding back that last wave? Very many questions that perhaps don't require an answer as urgently as the one posed at the beginning of this.

But nothing is nearly as bad as it is if you're able to find the hint of a silver lining. You see, once you've gotten hold of even a tiny peek at it, everything will look up =)

Like walking to nowhere in the hot sun because all you needed was to walk. And then find a destination with shady trees, a place to sit and the wind blowing just right.
And being blessed twice with fresh bird poop, thankfully not on the head.
Also to have just enough money to get an Apple pancake despite walking off without your wallet.
Then look at crazy smiley pictures that keep you smiling through redundant tasks.

But the grandest has got to be handing the cashier at a 7Eleven counter, first one hand of small change and then another and followed by another in exchange for a Classic Chocolate Cornetto and have him beam a thank you back at you. This brought me back to times in a blue pinafore and torn shoes panting at the Ice Cream Uncle at his motorbike outside the school gate. That was the moment of my day, nothing could possibly go wrong after ice cream, Priscilla Ahn and a drive.

Thank You for the strength. It was just enough =))

i could run out, then come back and call it a social experiment

2008-07-22T21:52:00.007+08:00

I was tempted to call it in. To throw my hands in the air and declare it out loud amidst the clicks of mouses and typing fingers.

It wasn't only difficult but in fact very much painful to sit there in front of the screen while it poured outside my window. The pain would have been considerably reduced if the blinds would just cooperate and stay open. For the first time in the longest time, I wished the rain would just leave to go to be with someone who needs it.

I dreaded so much how I wanted to be outside under my new umbrella.
It would have been a great walk. One that would have raindrops wet my feet and the wind dance cheekily through my hair. It would have been a walk that would have gotten me sick with happiness. But as is evident, it remains a would have been. Undeniably, it was regret and dread that came over me. At times, you could sense a hint of contempt.

The redundancy in the task did nothing except aggravate matters. It was then, more than anytime that I desired to be alone to chew and quietly digest. But all the flurry around: can finish today?, check Information Architecture again and then go to Livelink!, come for lunch with us? made it quite impossible.

So, I declined the meal invite and instead had Explosions in the Sky over for some nasi goreng cina. The thirty minutes together alone was so much comfort. This was the first of a few blessings to come.

At clock out, I got the walk back. There was no heavy rain and no reason to flaunt the new umbrella but it was beautiful how He made Mr. Sun do extra hours just like I did. It was 7pm and there were streetlights but the sun shone a warmth so slight, it was nothing short of mesmerizing. The sky was a beautiful mix of blue, purple, gray, yellow and more. I could never do it justice with words, no one could.

Walking on familiar routes made me remember of the times my feet trudged these same paths along with other feet - the feet of ones I now miss.

With each step, I thought of each one of you. Your silliness, your laughter and your voices and that made me smile =)

bright and (too) early

2008-07-14T22:37:00.003+08:00

Kicking start on the same day as rallies and votes held much good and bad.

Thirty pages into the book, good.
Two and a half hours waiting at the lobby, good and bad.
Tummy ache from fear and washroom rushes, bad.
Topic for conversations with focal people, good.

Today the Pecten beckoned.

earful of beauty

2008-07-14T21:41:00.006+08:00

Excitement kills sleep.
This was something I found out that Saturday.

Perhaps it was the guilt from being out on the weekend before finals. Or perhaps because I was due to watch Mono. *jumpskipshopsbeams* The amazing part was how it only took one line to get me all hyped up.

Admittedly, I didn't deserve to be there, much less given the privilege I had. That is why I regret not occasionally handing my pass to the others so they could have a go in that zebra-like cage with the awesome view. But thankfully, they were resourceful! I would never have figured out a way to get to the other side of the stage like they did =)

And so this was how I saw Mono on July 5th, all thanks to you =)

Excessive amounts of drummer in action cause drummers Never get featured enough. And well, cause I'm mad about them like that, heh!

Like I said, so many times, it wasn't necessary but I'm glad you did it or I wouldn't have realised I could draw Billy and Mandy and a very hip Grim! Haha.

The pieces of the day I took away to stitch back together later that night can't be told in words, much less up here. Maybe that's why I still lost sleep after the show. That's a picture I think I'll keep drawn in my head.

Thank you for this =)

words in a new tab

2008-07-14T21:19:00.002+08:00

I read you over and again, because I can. I read you as loudly possible in my head with a smile on my lips. I read you so soft, you sound close to a whisper.
I read you and I know this is something I'll cherish in the longest time to come.

You used to be a thought, just in passing. A glimmer of hope in the midst of childish dreams. Someone that was someone in some place with something important to do.

As I look out, the droplets of rain make it's way down the long window panes and I think in my head that perhaps this should stop. I can't afford to trace my fingers down the outline the rain was making without feeling dread over being inside. Funny how my mind took that and drew a parallel to you. And the many things I said and changed my mind soon afterwards and then changed my mind again seemed so petty. I tried hard to make you the bad one so you'll be easier to hate. And with that, hopefully forget.

I'm glad I did and didn't.

Who knew it could come to this. Who really knew except that one much greater.

It really is a blessing that this is what it is. Nothing more and nothing less. This isn't what they say it is. Quite far from it, really. Truth told, I'm more glad than anything that it isn't.

Because today as I read you, I realise that deep down I hope that I'll never lose this that I cherish so much in you.

between in-between(s)

2008-06-26T09:20:00.005+08:00

It really is those sheets of paper on the table. Sometimes it seems like it's that book on top of all the other books in the book case. But I believe if you look closely you'll find that it's the way that there are much too many torn Hershey's kisses wrappers in the bin.

It's a beautiful morning and the birds are speaking of a peace that only they and perhaps the rest of nature understands.

Their animated chirps are so full of cheer and life that it's a shame to be in the dark about it. Maybe the few of you who reads this understand too. And I hope you do.

The rays of sunlight streaming in through the curtains seem to want to speak of something more than it's warmth. It's not difficult to stand up and pull the curtains close but I don't. You can call it being lazy and I admit that there's some truth in that. But I can't honestly say that that is all there is to it.

I want to go outside and look up at the sky. I want to have a staring competition with Mr. Sun and hopefully win. I want to see the yellow swimming patterns when I look away after staring.
I want to do all that without these thoughts in my head.

But want and need are two different things, are they not?
The distinguishing line often blurs away from view but trust me when I say there is a line. I should know because I should. Yes, this sounds awfully like something out of the social psychology text. If anyone needs an explanation on the theory/model, I assure you that some gushing will be involved =)

And then there was this it.

This was supposed to be easy. A one-off thing that shifts into reverse and fades into oblivion. I guess when you 'suppose' things, they only chase after you faster and more diligently than before. My legs will carry me through because I know where to turn to recharge them.

I don't know what this is and thankfully, I believe I don't want to find out now.

This between in between(s) is what tires.

post-it

2008-06-24T19:23:00.002+08:00

Come, come, cue horror music with me. Funny how I've been working on my horror music hum the entire day and still, it sounds like the theme from Pink Panther. I don't know if I want to be given the chance to practice it some more. Though, I must say, it's been quite a day.

The encounter/ambush/interrogation at the washroom.

The silent cheering and biting of lips.
The red eyes and nose.

The angryscreamyell storm off.

The blue lace curtains and the thoughts that accompanied it.
The inevitable realization over dinner.

I can't quite tally the score. Perhaps I'll come to see why this has to be. Or maybe this will take longer than I hope it would. Either way at least I've ticked off one item on the to-do list.

=)

blue paper on train rides

2008-06-23T22:42:00.004+08:00

There we were sitting quietly opposite each other. It wasn't particularly crowded but it was evident that it was past office hours. That nurse blocking the view in the opposite window opening catches my glance every time I try to look out past the buildings. Her eyes hold something more than the usual stony stares that you see in nurses tired from a long day entertaining the sicks' whims. No, this one was just different. Perhaps it was the way her genie-like spectacles had a beady string hanging from it. Or how her red lipstick matched her red-blushed cheeks.

She is something I will remember amidst the silly words on this blue paper.

Her, and the way this train is throwing me around. It's making me regress to handwriting from before Gran taught me to put an index finger between words.

I've gone to Mars and back with these words. It lacks coherence. It's so absolutely random and all over the place that Mrs. Wong from school would scream in outrage. To amend and repair it would kill it's sincerity and the urgency that was present at the time of writing. As I put in the stars and many connecting circles, I reconsider if this was right. I wonder if things have changed. I think of time when I wasn't so stupid.

All this thinking made me forget to look out for the words announcing this train's destination. But never mind the many disembarking and boarding cause train rides are strangely calming that way. There's something about beating the beeps at the door that's amusing but in parts, depressing.

Masjid Jamek - Cheras - Sultan Ismail - Cahaya - Maluri

Fun, perhaps a little bit. Thought-provoking, definitely.
I'd do it again and again and again, everyday.

the magic rain

2008-06-09T22:29:00.007+08:00

The afternoon's staring away and listening to voices while sitting cross-legged on the red cushioned chair was an experience. It felt like being zapped to and fro; all the time at ultra speed. That inner holding cell felt overwhelming and that was why the thought of food irked so much that the rumbling tummy quieten itself into silence.

It is on days like this that I am glad I threw in the three three-dimensional pocket stars into my pencil case. That, coupled with a few animated stories from a lecturer that doesn't stop for breath and you're pretty much set to use the get out of jail card. But getting out of the holding cell doesn't necessarily mean everything's okay.

No, quite far from it, really.

If you sat with me, we'd just be sitting.
Perhaps in silence. Perhaps in a mountain of tissue paper. Or perhaps in pockets of giggles so ticklish that laughter would be only a moment out of our reach.
Oh, let me tell you, I can sit. The question is will you sit with me? And for how long.

For now, sitting isn't the issue. I'll sit alone because I have to be strong like that. It wasn't ever a problem because I know of one much greater who will sit with me at every red-cushioned chair, every sidewalk, every park bench. No, this is not it for now 'cause I think the answer to this question can wait.

It's that, that I just typed and hit backspace on.

=) But forget that because it rained. Oh so heavily and oh so prettily! =)

After a half an hour, a text message, the reply to the text and my own reply, we were still staring at the same red traffic lights. Good thing we moved 'cause it was crazy how I was about ready to do as I texted. Trust me, a walk in the awesome heavy rain is worth putting your car into park in bad traffic. You could probably get home and back and you wouldn't have missed a thing.

Upon getting home, there was allowance to indulge.
This was one that only involved a worn out pair of slippers, hair up in a bun and this morning's 'outfit' to college, the genius duo that is Hansard & Irglova and a trusty phone camera.

Hanging my legs in the air was just the right remedy.

And a much more perfect close than the one that I expected.
Thank You for the beauty. And grace.

where the mountains meet the sky

2008-06-08T18:44:00.002+08:00

The bottom of the box reads, This box deserves another chance to hold a pair of Converse shoes. How, you tell me, can one have the heart to recycle a box that is so cool that it has two metal holes identical to the ones on the original Chucks? Difficult much! But, recycle we must. If not for the sake of trying to ease Mother Earth's pains at least so this box will get the honour of housing another pair of Chucks.

She rocks the Chucks. She rocks the bag. She's a natural with the hoodie.

And naturally, I'm penniless.

She's been needing them. And this weekend, everything just gave up on her so we had to have a girls day out. She dreaded the searching and finding but I suspect she enjoyed lunch! It's absolutely nice to go to lunch and order whatever and not be afraid half of it will go to waste. She's the only one who can detect when I'm forcing things down and her offer to finish it just makes me so glad =)

The best part of getting shopping done is when you get to the cash register and have the cashier push a button or two and discover there was actually a discount on the item. Yes, I jumped. See, when you're going broke and can already envision yourself living on next to nothing for yourself for the next few weeks (or months!), a discount symbol deserves a jump and a skip and even a hop if you can manage it!

After church, the wallet was no longer to hold money but receipts! So, I'm broke right? Which means no restocking on the chocolate stash for the weekend, yes? Perhaps it just is reason enough to dip the hand into the 'Emergency Fund' he put aside. But the guilt screamed, 'NO!'.

=/ There was this inner chant that refused to give up. How, how? He provided! He did! Nothing big and fancy but He provided!

=) All of which I spent on Bytes and loveletters.

Now, if she didn't have to be at the X, I would have had to get a real meal. But since she isn't here, this packet is going to take forever to open.

har, har, har, this is the song of the Bad Beard. nothing difficult, x marks the spot!

And it won't taste like it always does.

miss you, missy.

fancy-schmancy, i'm not your fancy

2008-05-29T16:13:00.002+08:00

It just means: Thanks, now go away.

There was something that always nagged that this would eventually happen.
That I was kidding myself.
That this was just a fancy.
And true enough.

Another door to stare at.

At least there are other doors around.
=)

bread crumbs hunt

2008-05-23T23:11:00.003+08:00

This was no easy feat. It took a huge pile of tissue paper, lots of nose-blowing and then, some. The fatigue argument stood rather well to hide the red eyes. And the distant stares into nowhere, though was never successful for long periods of time managed to wiggle me out of some congratulatory speeches. Yes, all around they've got what they signed up for.

It was difficult to steer clear of the topic as after all it was the latest thing to be overly competitive about. So how, so how? And the brown/yellow/red/purple cows came into view once again. All I hear are first choices. Not one who's dissatisfied as of yet. Most would say this is a good thing and even in my state of mind, I couldn't help but agree. I would love to give that expected pat on the back but I can't do it whole-heartedly. I can't have that be on my conscience. Maybe not just yet.

I admit that this will be a challenge. But like you've said, it'll be an experience that has been designed for only me.
Strange how all of that seemed like a huge chunk of unoriginal nonsense when I first heard it. Now, however, it's the only valid strand of reason I can hang on to.

Because this is the only way I'll see the bread crumbs on the pathway to my silver lining.

the morning after

2008-05-23T11:30:00.000+08:00

Perhaps it wasn't the most comforting things to hear. It would have been hilarious if you had said you wanted to come with me and threaten the person-in-charge into changing it to the one I had spent so much time on. You knew what I wanted to hear so badly and what I would have hated to hear. You're the best for steering clear of sympathies and pretentious reassurances.

It was the best way to start the morning.

"Why bother doing it if everything will go smoothly? Where's the challenge in that?"

teary-eyed dead ends

2008-05-22T17:14:00.009+08:00

You want to know what stands out? What I remember?

It's the cheers for joy and the relief in all your eyes. The knowing look that this will be something you can do and do your best at. This was why the zipper on my pants pocket was the most interesting thing during that hour. It was the only way to hide the shame and guilt. The multiple sighs did nothing for the whys and the how now brown/yellow/red/purple cows. Strange how it always seemed like answers could be found at the end of a sigh if you sighed long enough.

Answers will do nothing right now. Just like words of comfort. Both give promise of better times, of better things but that's just it, isn't it - they're only promises. They stay staring at you in the face hoping that this will steer the feel-better drive into overdrive. Unfortunately that rarely ever happens.

Perhaps that's why there are other gifts in life:
Like getting the window seat next to a stranger, in a bus with the windows open so you can openly rub at your eyes and not get too many questioning looks.
And being able to return to a car well-stocked with tissue paper and not have to drive off immediately.
Also windshield reflectors that shield from rude sun rays and second glances and peering stares.
Not forgetting the parking ticket operator's concerned look and cheery goodbye.

It hurts this much because this is through a fault of my own. This is on me.
I have to make this work, somehow. There's no get out of jail card.
It's a dead end.

And that is why I'm glad to have these footsteps right next to mine.

wait!

2008-05-16T23:20:00.004+08:00

That's the one word summation of the entire day.

The turn from six thousand made me wait, twice.
I made the two of you wait. sorry!
The three of us waited for her.
He came to wait with us.
Both of us waited for them.

And in the end we waited to return home.

There's more that could be told. And told more beautifully. But the sight of the end of the road is so hauntingly absorbing that it distracts more than it intends to. The yellow line tells more than it usually does. Boundaries, it nags. I wish it would quit poking at the obvious. I wish it would stop being unrelentingly critical.

But I'm wishing on too much for a line on a road.

Yet, that's what I'm still doing.

a shadow of Boone's logic

2008-05-11T22:06:00.005+08:00

It would have been any ordinary Sunday. Perhaps even one where we sulked together staring at happy passers-by. That morning's debate rang loud, still. There were a few logical points amidst the long string of ones that couldn't be reasoned even if you stood till your feet felt like it was made up of a million crawling ants.

Strangely, standing in the shower for an obscene amount of time cured all aches. The sight of the kitty in the window looking forlornly, willing us to return smoothed over what seemed like a tense nerve. The idea that this never succumbs to the test of mortality made my smile stay a moment longer than necessary.

They will never leave even though your arguments were petty. Even if they wanted, they couldn't. There will always be a part of me in them and in me, a part of them. You could call it being stuck without prior consent. I choose to call it being stuck because being stuck is the only thing we know.

As Boone would have it, today could be a 'Quite Good Day'. It however, ended up being an infinitely better day than anything in the long list of day types that Boone could ever hope to come up with.

Maybe because there was so much red everywhere.

Or maybe because it was simply a day with them who are so attuned to each other that they color-coordinated without realising it.

muchlove.

that writer; she came back

2008-05-07T20:45:00.001+08:00

This was a two year overdue trip. This was something that has been nagging at the back of my mind since that first time I heard Arasu wasn't doing too good. This was to my second home =)

There was always something that concerned everyone whenever I tried to take the trip. It was no help that the only bus company traveling up wasn't exactly the safest. So I was constantly at odds; with both myself and the parental unit. But this time nothing of the sort was an issue because two others tagged along.

It was a three-hour ride and I was to be on the lookout for a Petronas gas station.
When I saw the gas station, I turned jumpy. It was hard to believe that in a matter of minutes we would be among those I've waited so long to meet. I'll never forget the sight of that gas station.

The two days were definitely too short and I was aware of that even when I embarked on this visit but at that time what little time there was felt enough. I was wrong. There were so many things to do and say but there wasn't enough time.
A longer trip is in the works.

If you could push through and take a look, you'd see.
You'd really see what I see. You'd understand. You'd believe. If you would only listen. You'd be able to discern what I'm saying and what you want to hear me saying.
But all of these are merely if(s) are they not? Even if I said please a million times, you'd find it difficult.
You'd walk away. You'd think crossly of me.

i miss.
the honesty. the unconditional love. the non-judgmental disposition. the genuine cheers. the strive. the spirit.

i miss it all.

another first love

2008-05-06T16:12:00.001+08:00

Its been almost a year since that day.
I remember their facial expressions to the speech I gave in the living room supporting what seemed like a ludicrous proposal. Having finished, I sat on the edge of the blue seat biting my lips waiting for their loud arguments against it. But that didn't come. It never did.

In it's place, I got the go ahead.

Research revealed holes in the speech points. Amidst squirms of doubts and fears of inability, there were convictions and the overwhelming push to persevere. But the hold that the fear had turned what seemed like a brilliant idea into one that looked less than perfect.

The subtleness in which they nudged was much appreciated.
The consistent offers from you helped. very much!

To be honest, I never thought this would realise. Yes, call me a pessimist. A dreamer, even. It starred in my dreams more often than anything has ever. In my defense, this was a huge deal. At least one that held many more consequences than it would usually for the average individual.

I took that step today, encouraged by something I heard one Sunday and I'm bubbling over with joy because I did.

Thank you so very much for putting up with the many continuous 'idontknow!' (s) and for volunteering your ideas and encouragements. =)
Thank you for being my connection and bringing yours. =)

Now, it's up to me to make a Farida sing.

3 668.10m above sea level

2008-04-24T15:49:00.001+08:00

So, it was supposed to be fairly simple: climb three quarters of the way to the resort at the top, rest the night and then do the remaining quarter early the next morning.

If only it was as easy as that. It was devastating to be so near and yet be forced to turn back. I cannot tell you how difficult it was to take that first step to the back. Willing the weather to listen for just a bit didn't make a difference.

The Mountain Gods were not at ease; that's what we heard echoing among the guides.
It was the kind of weather that happened maybe once in a few years; that's what our guide said to us with a straight face. Not your time to climb, this is so you will come back.
A black and white certificate is waiting for you at the headquarters, too bad.

It was terribly disappointing. It was ridiculously painful.
It was undeniably exciting and beautiful. It was eye-opening.
It was a shake back to life's cruel sentence on some.
And it revealed the grace with which some work through life’s most difficult stop signs.

I have to say that it was kind of unfair. I have many things to say but all of those will not tell you how grateful I am to have been able to reach the seven kilometer mark. Or to have been given the opportunity to do this at all.

Perhaps we were meant to do a return trip and the only way for that to happen is if Mr. Weather acted up. Perhaps this would be the one mission we’ll need to accomplish together and with each other. This only goes to show that plans will only be that; plans. There’s much more to things than that which we’ve drawn at the drawing board.

Yamin the cheeky leader. Mee suah with homemade spirit. Kitty. ‘Bah!’. Caught rained in at a rest hut. Insects we never knew existed. Warm soup.

Richard the cool guide. Rain showers. Yellow raincoats. Sunsweet raisins. Chocolate power bars. Shoes two sizes too huge. Text messages that make you smile. Double-layered water protection. Monster earthworms. Jumping on the spot to keep warm. Mist. Bathroom squabbles. Hot water taps that embarrass. The lack of familiarity. Passages that fit too well.

Triple layer clothing. Blind climb. Words and shoves of encouragement. The first very difficult step backwards. The disappointment. The devastation. The awe.

Poring is bamboo in Dusun. Skipping along canopy walkways. The beauty of the ache. Good looking people of mixed heritage.

Nabalu market. Ukuleles. Iyan the innkeeper. Six to a room. Jetty talks. Philippines market. Kuih cincin. Dried sea horse =/. Shell fish quest.

Clock tower. Deserted observation deck. Upside down map reading. Yellow soup konlo fish head noodles. Icecream! RM2 Spritzers.

A return is in the works.

appendix a

2008-04-21T17:11:00.004+08:00

Thirty minutes past 10 and it's looking worst than I thought it would. Everything within view is spinning and that in the distance is nothing more than a colorful blurry pattern. This is what three hours of sleep for three weeks does to you. Either that or a prescription of lenses is needed. Whatever the case, all of that is not as important as low back pains and the balance between human and automation and suitable display designs.

Ten minutes past the thirty minutes, and its time to pack. Notes that have been scribbled on repeatedly and doodled over on top of doodles make it into the bag over the mobile phone. Getting out of comfy clothes into neater ones require more effort than usual. Was this the tee from the other day? And if yes, what of it? Her 'Good Luck!' was replied with a faint 'Thank You'. Somehow it felt like it was a walk on the last mile.

Sharp 11 and the library temperature could pass for the dawn chill. The girls in the corner can't stop giggling over how the guy that she thinks like her asked her to get a hamster on Facebook. Occasional looking up from notes and constant shushings from the anal librarians didn't quite send them the message. Thank God for iPods. But then strawberry fields need redundant displays and razors have to be designed to account for typical perceptions. Blah.

Fifteen minutes past 11 and the volume on the iPod can go down a notch. Alone at the table but with not enough time to get the jacket out to fight goosebumps. Why, suddenly there's so much to recite all over.

At 12 and for two hours, the last bit of second year was put to test. This is it. This seals it.

And this is where it stops. This is when a stare, a voice, a presence reminds of something that was forgotten. Thoughts pushed away wave hello all over. Questions that demand unspeakable answers make its rounds once again. These thoughts are funny things, they tickle at that that was impossible to tickle, nudging continuously for attention, throwing temper tantrums when denied and gloating with glee when allowed for.

Between jam sandwiches and bottles of water, between sheets and drifting off, between you and You.

And there's more yet.

this cake has double icing!

2008-03-29T15:05:00.000+08:00

The joy of having one cake with icing was grand enough but to have it topped with another one was inexplicably shocking.

It was the most unlikely thing to happen. I mean, what were the odds? We were up against some good research ideas and papers. Not to mention having our poster be put up next to one that we thought held a much better chance than ours. That was why it took a thousand "Really lah. Trust me can or not? Why would I lie?", a bet and pinky-finger promising and several calls to the respective graduate tutor before it finally sank in.

The cake did indeed have double icing.

What made this grand was the fact that we didn't set out to win or be the best. We did our best and while at it, had fun. It was the unique essence that each brought to the table that made this possible. In the midst of all the sidetracking and stressing over nonsensical things, it was the relief of finishing all that we meant to that harbored us through.

4 cents photocopy stores, the "Idon'twanttobuy!" and walking away in a huff, the overly significant results, the doubting of the overly significant results, the Awesome!, the burit(s), panicking over not finishing in time, disturbed naps over referencing on the due date, the calling of unsuspecting course mates to bug them about SPSS, imitations of 'Congratulations', the confusing of the 'I' and 'E'.

Discussions on brick throwing, PoPo(s), KongKong(s) and the injustices, Uncle Andrew, garden chases, the teaching of Cooks on how to cook, tears on drives home, deaths, the determination to help, hysterical laughters, dramatic facial expressions, question traps, the compiling of journal papers and finding out it wasn't so necessary, undue praises.

All will be missed. As it always is. Each brought blessings more than was expected.

A simple thank you doesn't seem quite right, "Eh, where are my vouchers?!" is more like it.
=D

there's icing on this cake

2008-03-28T17:35:00.001+08:00

Previously men and women with respectable positions in society. Someone's loved aunt and uncle, sister and brother, wife and husband, mother and father. Ones with great precision and skill, bright minds and hearts.

Now, tell time from meal times. In between those, they reminisce of time that was, as candidly as possible. Sometimes with bouts of smiling sadness.

"My name's Mary Goonting. Goonting like the scissors!" *gestures fingers to resemble scissors*
"Anthony, kill me, Anthony. My whole body's paining." *bangs back of head on wall*
"Doooon't change the channnnnel!" *slurs from unable to keep head up*
"I can't hear you. I ask them to pour the water on my head, they pour in my ears." - says one losing his hearing
"I'm so happy you brought this fan. I will take good care of it." =)
"Old man, sit down, old man!" - says one old man to the other
"Must find good boyfriend ya! Men these days are very bad." =D
*reads off a board* "Am...I...disturbing...you. YES!"

"When are you coming back?" - hits every time

PoPo, ScissorsLeg, CarynChann, Tai Ka Che, Ducky, Crabbie

There's reason to smile yet.
It's all thanks to them. And one more.

2008-03-28T17:21:00.002+08:00

Rain is God's way of giving us the opportunity to tell people that there is hope yet for them.
It's when you can use the gifts you've been given to lend a hand. As I repeatedly smiled a yourwelcome in return for the countless thankyous and shoulder pats, I remember feeling glad to be given this.
So, it is only fitting to look up with hands out under the rain and echo Evey Hammond, "God is in the rain."

I thank You for the rain.

=)

moments like these

2008-03-28T15:56:00.003+08:00

It's bright out. With storm clouds and winds that threaten to tell the secret I whispered into it just a moment ago.
My mind screams 'blackmail!'. But my heart knows that even if the leaves flutter cheekily and the curtains sway gleefully to that that the wind has leaked to them, none else will know. The wind is my ally.

The picture outside my window mirrors all that is running through me. The numbing, the woes, the pseudo-joy. Picking at fingers, it is only awe that I have for this beautiful weather. So poised and graceful and altogether, wonderful. Rumbles of distant thunder and the promise of rain nudge to remind of the wonders of one greater than I.

And to think that this greater one thinks of me with love leaves me dumbstruck.

As I type this, the first patters of rain hits my roof alerting me of the beauty I'm about to witness. And as always I look over my shoulder hoping to get a little glimpse of beauty but my eyes fail me. Despair, I shall not because the smell of rain is treat enough. For now, for now.

I won't deny how difficult it is to finish this post. It is difficult not to stare at moving clouds and listen to the chirps of the mischievous lone bird that wishes to fly a moment longer in an empty sky. The brief rain's made the air damp enough only to pique my senses.

It's moments like these that harbor me through the roughest patches.

And it is moments like these that reiterate that there is Much greater than I.

a jump and squeeze from behind

2008-03-11T21:14:00.001+08:00

The ocean miles are two phrases of time, now, long gone.
Handwritten letters to a pseudo-war tucked inside brown paper wrapped boxes packed to the rim.
Then tied affectionately with strings and addressed with a blue permanent marker.
The ensuing wait silently eats away at thoughts.

How every phone call began with a questioning Hello? with hopes to hear a particular voice in return. And how difficult it was to guise the disappointment when it wasn't.

Three months apart does funny things to you. The stories of people who have walked in (and all over!) your life only comes to life in pictures conjured by the mind. Their smiles when you pulled a funny. Or the way they hid tears when you left. That's the impact you have inadvertently had over them. It's only you who could do all of that in one sitting.

For that, I'm proud.

Thanks for being back in one piece. Bullying behavior and everything, intact.
The shifting sounds from the bottom bunk never sounded better.
*love*

an Angel had a Tiff with a Mushroom resulting in a Jet ride to a Buffalo

2008-02-29T23:25:00.010+08:00

You could never have seen a desertion like it in its sister venues. The silence echoing in the distance was almost pleading for sounds to ease the phantom humming. If smiles could ring out loud like laughters do, mine would have reverberated through the entire building. A skip up the stairs turned into a small run but only to stop ahead and wait on the company of mismatched oddities.

Many an exclamation of 'ooh!' and 'aah!' were followed by familiar citing from texts memorized back in secondary school. To think that the contents of Sejarah Malaysia could be retrieved from memory three to four years down the road was amazing. Perhaps a walk through back then could have resulted in an improved final grade. But that is of a time when the education system was still flirting with the idea of interactive learning, leaving arguments of that to fade with every passing minute.

...were from Pakistan

a bunga mas!

Brit-ish humor

What's sad is the clear signs of a legend trying hard to remain current, even to the extent of being commercialized. And why? Simply to garner more interest and with it, hopefully an increased number of visits and subsequently end of the month sale telly reading more than RM300. Do you see the cycle? It may seem worthwhile but is it really? I'd much prefer originality than attempts of mimicking progress. History does not change even if its fitted with fancy lights and supposedly modern-looking mannequins. Instead, it's only tainted with 'trying too hard' and then disregarded. This is one of those places where patrons intentionally visit to ogle at the ancient hence to transform that defeats the whole purpose. Holden Caufield would not be impressed.

reflective surfaces and cameras

That, that is how things are run around here. Sadly.

It is however, the place where a four year date began. Only four years will tell if a stroll down these alleyways could lead to a reunion of these mismatched odds. Perhaps even with the company of many more significant others. And I won't forget because of an 'adopted' pebble =)

Four years from today? It's a date.

four year date

2008-02-26T17:50:00.004+08:00

Hello.

I may not have had the privilege of knowing You. Or I might have. Either way, thank You for still stumbling by. I hope You are well. My apologies if You had to quickly hit the red X button at the top of the page after scanning the title of the topmost post. I can only hope that the practice of speed would come in handy some time soon.

Why no update?

It would be a lie if I sat here and told You that the above doesn't make my thoughts smile along with my lips. An outright Big Bluff. Because the fact that You are able to string those three words together means that You noticed that this brown page has been void of thoughts. For that smile, I thank You.

I would love to sit here and type reams and reams of texts that You will probably not entirely read but I won't do that to You.

Instead,
I'll tell You what this Friday is.

Until recently it was only another Friday on the calendar. Another day to snuggle in between sheets of cloth and sleep in. Another day to have the wind blown through my hair and have me wish I had longer bangs. Another day to spend thinking in the shower and forget that it would be the third time I've gone through the Shower Custom.

But it's not another Friday of mundane nothings. I won't have it be because it's February the 29th. A page on the calendar that graces us with its special appearance only during leap years. That's four years once.

Four years may fly by for some and go at a sloth-like pace for others but one thing is for sure - You will definitely be different. The person You are now could be buried under layers of politically correct constraints. You may be without so much that You have around You today.

All I'm saying is: do something You'll remember this Friday. Set aside an hour or two away from Your books, planners, laptops and make the most of this fifth Friday of February. Do something different that You'll never forget; simply because You can.

Me? I'll be saying hello to the museum because I adore J. D. Salinger that way.

What will You be doing?

melancholy and cool, kinda bittersweet.

2008-01-20T02:31:00.000+08:00

Under the weight of your wings.

You know how the window fogs up when it’s too cold and it’s raining out? You know how it’s impossible to see that solitary tear run down your face when you turn away quick enough? You know how you don’t know? Or how you do know? It’s tugging at me, pulling at strings that are double-knotted around me.

The wind whispers only so much comfort. I can choose to sit here and let the binds tighten or twist and turn hoping the knots loosen. Both seem unlikely to get me out of this game quick enough to escape the quicksand beneath my feet. Either way the clock is ticking slower than the timer in me. If that is a good thing, I don’t think I understand why. Yet.

What is it that draws this back, every time? What’s the cheat code that it seems only I can’t see.

I wonder if truly you are nearly as beautiful as I believe.

Or am I that fool romanticizing everything?
I can only hope to be able to close my fingers around that one word I’ve been building my entire life upon. The very word that we can let roll off our tongue repeatedly but find awfully hard to hold true to. Maybe placing all hope on one word is a ridiculous affair. But maybe has never been the best confidante because somehow is overbearing that way.

I'll pretend I know not of your thoughts and even the way that they mirror my own.
Simply because I have to find that word and keep to it like I promised to.

'Cause as long as it's kept I'll be fine.
=)

you want to reenact letters to war is it?

2007-12-30T21:06:00.000+08:00

The grumble about the huge suitcase followed the mumble about the huge amount of supplies.
"Two huge bottles of everything and I wonder if even this will be enough."

because she thought it was hilarious.

Then there was the debate on how to dodge it.

"Show them your bruises from the matches and say you can't move the limb but remember to not move it la."
"No. Say you have a sensitive digestive tract and bacteria from any source can cause you to redesign their toilets in the most disgusting way. It's partially true too!"
"Just borrow someone's empty inhaler and suck the thing every time you say a word."

None were brilliant enough to convince her to take to the medical officer. Best part is, she could have gotten off with a simple no to their question 'cause they did not even check her. But she didn't do it. I think it was from a mix of anticipation over flying across the ocean and fear of a stinky prison cell. Either way I'm proud of her for sticking to it.

comfort over aesthetics.

still had time to tease sifu-like-beard man and horrible 4-in-1 tongkat ali ads -_-"

i miss scrambled eggs, instant noodles, yakitate! japan, making fun of stupid movies and going hyper afterwards.
i miss sneaking a picture when you're not looking, gabbing about everything until you want to jump out the window and being one half of the maddeninglyefficient baking partners.
i miss conspiring with you over plans that are never to be revealed outside our room =p and reasoning about things that don't seem to make sense to anyone else.
i miss the white baby.

If only sisterly pride would take away from my missing her (until she comes back and I feel like strangling her).

my friend wishes to tell you: "it's nothing".

2007-12-18T23:28:00.000+08:00

The poster boasted, "A night to remember this mid December" but try telling that to a group of strong-headed girls and they still won't go to it with you. So twist it and talk about how much fun it will be to go to it together but they still shake their heads in harmony to the "nooo" they're saying. And that was exactly why reasons like: it's a waste of money, there's no time to find a dress, i won't go unless someone goes with me was repeated every time someone asked about it.

It sure looked like it was a no-go but being friends with student council members had me if-ing and maybe-ing it. I would have gladly bought the ticket and not go because it is our first prom on our own and supporting that is a good thing. It wasn't so much the issue of going alone but the idea of being without friends the entire night that was the turn off. Resigning to not going included scurrying away every time you hear the word 'prom' and daftly avoiding the broach of the subject.

But in the end I went and only because someone was nice enough to friendly-date it with me. If you're wondering about the friendly-date, it's when you go to something with a friend but since the event requires a date, your friend gets to be called your date=)

It was just as the poster had boasted. Memorable in every sense. However this is just one of those things that you had better been there to experience it rather than read it from some obscure blog. Since some of you have been bugging me silly for pictures, here's the few I took (too bad I had too little friends to take pictures with, and I wonder whose fault is that).

goofballs.

jet.

with sisters; elvira and angel.

kevin, mr. friendly date. here's proof we went together =)

the light streaming through the gaps in the curtains were the only true witnesses of the little words that were scribbled the morning after. maybe the two extra lines could be likened to an act of vandalism but it was necessary.
to remind. to put in place that that needed placing.
because otherwise, otherwise is only an otherwise, and somehow will always be the better confidante than maybe will ever be.

here's a huge public thank you to you (just because I can).

you were born how long ago again?

2007-11-27T00:47:00.000+08:00

Birthdays have a tendency of being associated with happiness and surprises and little delights that remind you that you have friends who would wait every year to see your cake-smeared toothy grins. All of that is well and fine but really has anyone actually thought of what goes through a mother's mind as her child's birthday approaches. It is after all the anniversary of the day that she checked into a hospital hours in advance only to be given updates on how much dilations she has gone through. I realize most would rather not go there but it intrigues me. Although she's happy that her hours of labor was worthwhile in producing a little minion who is now *insert age*, she must of course be reminded of the hospital bed and how the sheets smelled just as she was about to push life's miracle(s) out of her.

I followed mine around to ask her the question and instead of giving me a straight answer, she took the opportunity to molest my curls. Yes, a failed attempt, so if you would be so kind as to get an answer from yours when your birthday comes around, I would be most grateful.

My Nov 27th was supposed to be a quiet one. But there were darlings who insisted that that was not to be =)

For the pre-birthday, the plan was to have dinner after the final slot of our research's oral defense. There are tons to gab about but this is way overdue so I'll just show you some pretty smiles =)

angelyn and pui kit gushed: "the lights! and trees!"

pek-piggy-wah and her awesome meal.

hui ping and mads.

caryn, the carlo rino model.

this is what you have to live with when you want a picture of/with a piggy.

esther and pui kit wanted a pictureee.

The day itself was supposed to be only a lecture, a help-out photo assignment and being charitable at the pre-prom party ('cause I promised to contribute and check out the acts since it looked like I wasn't going to be attending). But the day held much more.

A shout-sing-along birthday song, free cuppycake.

And dinner with the madness I like to call BRATs =)
Only they'd think of tagging the cake with 'Daftarlah untuk mengundi!' and play "Spongebob's undies, your undies and......?" and bug each other silly over grandmothers and nonsense like that.

my two favorite marathon runners.

joshua felt like counting his fingers.

two babes and a photographer.

aaron, the magician.

asyraf is huru-hara alright.

The steals were quite frankly steals alright.

a silver star over black and white pictures with squiggly signatures and short notes does not seem much but it was one of the best from this year. thankyouall.

to call it even and then apologize for not forgetting and then have the songs be star-themed simply showed more than you'll ever know. thankyou.

having spongebob bobbing up and down in my lap the entire night was ingenious (!) and the best ever. thankyou.

no more self-wrapped this year eh, but it was nice nonetheless. thankyou.

thank you everyone.

=)

14th collo-what?

2007-11-24T23:47:00.000+08:00

Cold toes, frozen fingers, pale faces, timed mirror rambles.

This was the reason each sacrificed Sundays for two months. Starting of with shooting hands requiring immediate clarification (lest that one question fades among the many others) to individually critiquing that that was in front only to come back with loop hole-free defenses.

group 20 for advanced research methods.

From pretty smiles, confused frowns, half-comprehending half smiles to full blown grins. Then there were the conflicts over everything that came from the pressure felt from all sides. It was why each stood in corners mumbling and rambling watched closely by the timers on mobile phones.

squeezing of group mates while they work relieves stress.

The move from one phase to another during the entire semester felt surreal. It always felt like we would never get here. That it was too far away to even begin entertaining thoughts about. And then it was here, staring each of us in the face. Scary thoughts began to get mixed up with excitement over telling the world (or at least our version of it) about the subject of our labor. The one that took up every waking moment of our lives for months now. Did we really get here or is this an illusion and an ambush was on the horizon. Thoughts like that can put even the most well-prepared in a frightening cycle of insecurities so what more us right? Or so we thought.

Trust me when I say things didn't look very encouraging but I must also add that it was admirable the way each stood right back up from every stumble along the way. And that was exactly why four of the seven went home right after our presentation at the college's research colloquium while the rest stayed for the sake of extra credit.

we'll be the only researchers handling your scores. XD

because one thought it would be cool to try to look like flowers. haha.

As undergraduate Psychology majors we had to conduct researches and inform the 'world' of our discoveries on a formal presentation day. The college had an added incentive for winners at the colloquium but none except for one in the group felt a win was possible so they pottered on home instead of waiting for the awards ceremony at the end of the day.

After a call and several text messages, we heard it. Okay so we won but don't get excited maybe it's a consolation for best power point or something. Yes, as first time colloquium presenters, we weren't exactly sure how things were done. So, imagine the surprise of being announced one of the winners for the oral presentation. Gobsmacked okay!

six MPH vouchers (and there are seven of us).

. . . . .

There was also the poster project and defense for Advanced Quantitative Methods. This isn't your average poster but one loaded with points squeezed in to inform on the Effects of Affect on Creativity. It was a joy to do since I have been doing little or nothing related to art (even if there wasn't much allowed =/).

smiley artist expert!

. . . . .

That was only one half that was for that day. The other was on the now beloved Sudan. We adopted the displaced people and the violence of the region as our own and sought to solve the conflict. Amidst boxes of ribena and laughter over 'boo-boos' and 'hand-holding', we managed a solution so similar to the one put forward by the UN. After trimming off the idealistic perspective of the paper, we spoke on the whys and hows of the genocide in Darfur.

And we managed a smile out of Mr. Paul, our lecturer and conflict-specialist! Yes, the situation in Darfur is urgent and not funny but some humor is always necessary when looking at such a devastating crisis so it's good. =)

we worked with a MacBook. so yum!

only three 'cause BigSis left early.

. . . . .

With that the accumulated stress of the semester came to a close. Although there is this sense of relief, there is also a feeling that I will definitely miss every inch of work, stress and familiar cheers that were littered along during the semester.

the finalfinal slot for Group Interaction and Reward Increment on Cooperation.

And to the people who have been featured in this post (even indirectly): thankyouthankyouthankyou. It was nothing but joy working with every one of you even if there were squabbles and sulky faces because afterwards hugging away everything feels better than ever.

they say we're crazy.

2007-10-20T19:06:00.000+08:00

It's the time of day when the weather is so great, all you seem to want to do is freeze it and hopefully get it well on its way to immortalization. So you put on your favorites on iTunes and sit down to write about it. But every time your fingers are close to hitting the keys on the keyboard, it curls away. You sit with legs up and think, only to come up with thoughts that make even you wonder where it could have possibly come from.

Wiggling cold toes in warm socks is a luxury you wish upon every human person displaced everywhere.

On a sunny day windshields make wonderful headlights for airborne individuals.

The slow tear on the earphone plug is it's fragile lifeline.

No one bothers to see how the street lights are doing except for the fireflies.

Maybe the Queen of England and the Britains could have watched too many episodes of Slyvester, the cat when devising their pronunciation.

There is this one song that is on repeat on the iTunes just because it puts a silly grin on my face. Even thoughts of silly squabbles and mixed thoughts don't stay long. It isn't the lyrics but the justification in the middle that is so adorable.

There's magic in this monitor.
It's gone into a time machine right now.
It's gone, it's still there.
Oh on my guitar, really? Oh, what a drag.

There's nothing like a genuine laugh. Nothing!
Sometimes a song with "technical difficulties" turns out to be the best there is.

as promised.

2007-10-15T13:54:00.000+08:00

Since I miss you way too much, here's the randoms I promised. =)

The Double Straw syndrome that never quite left.

Pretty, won't you say?

=) A clown of a man.

She walked within the line the whole way!

The sunset after the rain.

The Friday when jelly tasted better than ever.

The Mumsie's encouragement when temptation to go out and get methylenedioxymethamphetamine was at it's worst.

There, a double post. It makes up for the long absence, right?
Unfortunately, now I'm feeling so bad for abandoning Race Relations in Malaysia, so I'll go back.

2007-10-15T13:33:00.000+08:00

Sometimes you want to turn your head upside down.
Just so images appear right side up inside your eyes. Just so you're able to fool your brain into a 'Huh?'. Just so you know that that super-cool-you-can-do-anything-with-me device lodged at the very top of your mechanism still functions.And sometimes just because a song inspired you to do so.
And when I see you, I really see you upside down.
But my brain knows better, it picks you up and turns you around (turns you around).

It's that weather out. That weather where you sit and stare at clouds that are not there but you sit and stare anyway. You never get bored of staring because you sincerely will that by staring, the you that you hope to stare away goes away. You hug your knees close, occasionally thinking those thoughts that you pushed away knowing full well that it is a feat much impossible to accomplish.
And I thought I could, can't get my mind off you.

But you know how sometimes you listen closely and you hear something so funny, you have to chuckle out loud. And you do so when no one else thinks it's funny but you're so tickled you have to go on. That feeling makes up for everything. That secret joke that you never want to share because explaining will kill the ticklishness becomes the rainbow on top of having a rainy day.
The glove compartment isn't accurately named.
And everybody knows it.
So I'm proposing, a swift orderly change.
'Cause behind it's door, there's nothing to keep my fingers warm.

Then it comes down to fingering the hem of your skirt simply because it happens to be the most constant thing in your life at the moment. Your fingers line the white thread as it weaves in and out and you think of the thoughts that went through the tailor's mind as he/she was designing the skirt. Are you wearing the skirt as he/she imagined it to be worn? Are you doing him/her justice? Is this skirt happy? Sometimes you wonder if you should just go back and silently put the skirt back on the very hanger it was on.
Life's like an hour glass glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button now.
Sing it if you understand.
And breathe, just breathe.

And then it comes to be the time for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You're glad for a PB&J to take your mind off it's constant madness but only the opposite happens. You realise you've just discovered the most important thing ever! With everything coming close to extinction, glue will never be a worry because there's always peanut butter. Yes, having peanut butter glue your mouth shut sometimes, is the best thing that could ever happen. So what you know and almost blurt out doesn't see the light of day.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit.

I'll keep this quiet and hope it goes away. I'll keep this close so it never sneaks it's way out. I'll keep it hidden so this smile can stay where it is.
Tuesday night at the bible study.
We lift our hands and pray over your body.
But nothing ever happens.

And some guitar riffs captivates you so much, you can't help but play your fab air-guitar and rock it like a rock star.
What lies in the future is a mystery to us all.
No one can predict the wheel of fortune as it falls.
There may come a time when I will see that I've been wrong.
But for now this is my song.

=)

pix puke.

2007-09-19T00:55:00.000+08:00

Things have been very chaotic. No time to do anything except meet for discussions, complete forms and take pictures. Haha. So since I couldn't stand everything being so sad, I figured it's time to put up some eye candy.

mr. godbrother thinks he looks uber cool here. *rolls eyes*

stars make me happyclappysmiley.

=) spot the peace sign!

needing a recharge.

let's pout!, they say.

meet: dbchan & slowbietan. look at the madman's face lah.

slippery rocks and thoughts. =) angelyn.

pui kit-bossyouhaveamessage and mads the drama addict caught red handed NOT discussing.

sneakers and flip flops.

simultaneously.

lisia darling. sorry the frame didn't get in =p

=)) Another one and I would give myself away.

criteria [ eight ] .

2007-09-16T00:28:00.000+08:00

chris, my babe of a sister, pinned a tag. i wasn't too keen on doing it what with the workload and all but i needed a distraction from saying goodbye to forgotten thoughts so here goes.

RULES:
1. The tag victim has to come up with 8 different points about his/her perfect lover.
2. Have to mention the gender of his/her perfect lover.
3. Tag eight other victims to join this game and leave a comment on their blog.
4. If you are tagged the second time, there is NO need to do this again.
5. Lastly, and most importantly, HAVE FUN DOING IT.

8 qualities my perfect boy ought to have:

[ one ] skookum! yeah. he has to be the best person he can be and he tries to be even better all the time.

[ two ] creative genes. art, music (drums! *drools*), photography, writing. anything along these lines is uber cool.

[ three ] cares for the things and people around him. indifference is such a turnoff.

[ four ] understands that i want to do a whole lot of things in life. and encourages me to strive for every single one of them even if they seem megaly out of reach and ridiculous.

[ five ] allows for my strange ideas and is able to accept me for the crack-mind that i am.

[ six ] willing to sit cross-legged on sidewalks and draw sad smileys in the sand when i need to.

[ seven ] great with kids! heh. they're a source of joy to me.

[ eight ] loves and respects me for who i am. weaknesses and all.

the eight new victims: gervie, joshua, lisia, mads, peiling, shantee, szetoo, ttg.

disclaimer: the above wasn't based on anyone i know so don't take this as a hint =) i have yet to meet someone who comes close. no one is perfect so fulfilling [ eight ] does it =D

it's final.

2007-09-14T23:48:00.000+08:00

It never seemed likely. Yes.
Two negatives are used to describe it all the time. Yes.
Things will never work or even start to work. Yes.
The differences are overwhelming. Yes.

It's time to really forget. Yes.

Today finally sealed the deal. Those words when strung together spoke so much. I can't even begin to tell you how much. I got to read everything I needed to. I can't do this no more. So, even if it comes to work (which I highly doubt it will) I won't let it come to be.

You had it but you lost it.

I'm sorry but this is how I choose to work. You never looked at it that way anyway so I'm the only one in this place.

Thank you. For the confirmation. I needed it.

in perfect disguise.

2007-09-07T23:12:00.000+08:00

The pretty clouds, brief rain and cake-lunch conspired with Today. And very well too, might I add. It's a plan so perfectly executed, it deserves to be termed 'The Master Plan'. Everything seemed so well and dandy that they got me in all the right places and times.

Sigh. If only sighing long enough will take it all away.

Today decided on being a bad day in disguise of a good day and boy, did the disguise work.

I bought into it and I wish I didn't. The long awaited rain is here so maybe cheering up won't be that difficult. Ah, just bring on tomorrow please, 'cause I know He'll provide.

=/

averted glances.

2007-09-06T21:13:00.000+08:00

The flashes of light between dark heavy clouds reminds of the speed the heart was beating at on that particular afternoon. I remember the heat, the hugs, and that uphill walk. Regret was written over every step taken on the tar road that day. Going back to greet hello lost it's ounce of absurdity and became more appealing after every sigh. Sigh.

As exciting as the time ahead seemed to be, that resigned feeling of stupidity kept haunting.

But withholding held greater prospects than temporary relief. And He provided just that.
I couldn't hear myself. I lost my train of thought. I forgot things that I actually knew. And I acted like a complete idiot.
It went pretty horribleterrible, but this felt better. She could tell I felt better almost immediately. Her deductions sounded quite unlikely but I wasn't watching to prove otherwise.

Heh. I was so giddy that I hopped off that last step and walked blindly in no particular direction before realising that I had left her behind. I missed the goodbye but at least I got the hello I thought I missed.

....

It's not something likely and I'm fully aware of it but this feels nice. This shyness has caused me to treasure every single one of them. =)

we're 50!

2007-08-31T03:07:00.000+08:00

In the midst of very disturbing issues plaguing the country and her nation, we celebrate her independence day. It seems as if we never budged from where we were 50 years ago, mentally at least. Actually maybe our mindsets were in better shape then as compared to now. Everyone is rattling on about how bad things are and what not but all I can think of is the peace I feel just listening to Tanggal 31 as it is aired in between songs with not so subtle sexual themes.

Although there were countdowns and fireworks everywehere, my eve was spent at home minus the traffic. There's really nothing like curling up with a book on the floor near the sofa where the Daddums sits moving his leg to the song beats and occasionally nodding off. I'm just grateful that that moment was possible.

As screwed up as things are and as much as we need to work on things, it is a Happy Merdeka that we greet each other. Let's hope today reminds us that we're all in this together and together we shall strive to build and mend.

Have a great one!

that do.

2007-08-28T11:37:00.000+08:00

It's the rain that we walked through. It's the silly hold-your-pee moments so more seeing could be squeezed in. It's the one regular coke and fries with five right hands digging in. It's the persuading of the legs to climb the many flights of stairs. It's the laughing at not-so-funny-also things because we felt like being a riot.
That was what the Bangsar-do was for me.

When some bailed out but others extended self invites just so things don't get canceled, I could only smile.
When I was shirt-off-my-back-broke and others fought to be my personal bank (complete with installments and interest-free loans), I worried about my spending. Heh.
And when you're so worried, you gulp down your milo ais then receive calls and texts checking to see if you're okay, your day looks up. =)

The drama award of the day has got to go to Ameza for her 'helpitwon'tcomeoff' little scene. She was running from one person to the next in her socks. As sadistic as it sounds, if only I have a video of it. Sadly, the sales assistants were way too edgy with a camera being in the premises. Ah well, they were only doing their jobs.

Thanks babes.

running is fun!

2007-08-26T23:44:00.000+08:00

The idea of doing 3km on foot would normally terrify, petrify and anything else that rhymes with that. I don't even remember how I got myself into it.

Aim: Not to come in last
Strategy: Eat healthy and walk a lot (sure not?)
Secret: Run with your two favorite people

My stamina is so bad that I had envisioned running to a deserted finish line. Read: number tags flying with the wind, empty drink cans littered everywhere. But I have to admit the run didn't seem as far as I had pictured it in my mind. We reached the finish quite early and I got a hug from BigMiloMan =)

I guess the sandwich and juice lunch as well as the walks to and from KLCC paid off a little. And people, running in a baju kurung isn't as hard as it looks! I bet you did it all the time in school right? On the other hand, I can't say the same for the dhoti. Heh. Chapati-man had quite a number of flasher moments during the run.

ps: to the two pei chek darlings, i sayang you! sorry for slowing you guys down and thanks for making 3km seem like 500m =))

who's gon' watch you...

2007-08-25T23:41:00.000+08:00

It's the little things that strike you sometimes and you find yourself lost in a flurry blur of things. It catches you in mid-sentence, freezing your words, crystallizing your thoughts and therefore rendering you helpless. You seem to need to catch up but all you feel like doing is sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk of a busy street, determined not to budge. So what if it sounds crazy? So what if its unheard of? Sometimes all that matters is your heart's desire; however mental it may seem.

But what if what you want and what has to be done will not sign a peace treaty?
And what if you're suspended in the middle of torture but your screams are cleverly masked with silence?

That's when you decide whoopeedoo. let's go hysterical! Because the Blues are afraid of weird, mental thoughts and ideas. Heh.

If only you would sit with me and listen to my heart's whispers, hug them close and draw sad smileys in the sand with me.

ctrl-alt-del.

2007-08-23T09:20:00.000+08:00

My favorite carpet is the red with black trimmings at the waiting area opposite the board room. My favorite view has got to be the one overlooking KLCC, the National Library and the quaint bungalow houses from the pantry windows. But still while walking to the store room holding the stack of rejected photocopied documents, only questions came to mind.
Did my presence make a difference?
Was I significant enough to be missed or asked after?

Yes, the internship has finally (finally!) come to an end. It felt like any other day walking out of the offices if not for the suspicious stares at my chest simply because I didn't have a tag hanging from my neck. Perverts!

And the byes were different. Who would have thought that the 'Big Slave Driver' could loosen up. Haha.
Study hard yeah. And pay attention to everything. And most importantly make lots of money and then come see me.

That woman is scared out of her wits since the SME spokesperson spoke to her about needing nothing less than RM7mil to continue to live her current lifestyle after she retires. She tells everyone to make good money after that -_-" I must admit she paints the perfect picture of a successful corporate woman with the right principles to work and play. I can't say she taught me a lot (if anything) but watching her has given me a vague idea of what it's like.

I suppose my time here has taught me a little of everything. I'm an expert with the machines now! Fax, photocopy, shredder, electrical typewriter, binding; I do it all. Transfer calls? Leave it to me. Answer the phone? Good Morning. Citi. And company appearance in newspapers and magazines cost money! I'm lucky the whole addressing everyone as Ma'am thing didn't stick. Heh.

It sounds very generic but maybe the 30 working days was not to throw an inexperienced Psychology major into the stressful field of Corporate Communications but to allow her to observe the people and the work. 'Cause if that's the case, internship successful =) I've seen how it really is and there has been no better place to observe people, trust me! The A-types, the jokers, the hystericals, the apple-polishers, the busybodys; every one of them and more. Although this was not what I envisioned the internship to be like (I guess Star is quite an act to follow).

Funny how I can only say I'll truly miss the old school Toshiba notebook and my 'Tenant' tag. And the walks to and from KLCC. Oh and the 'sandwich-and-apple-juice-on-the-park'! Haha.

Got to give it to the colleagues though 'cause they sure know how to do their luncheons. =D Japanese at the Nikko and Dim Sum at The Royal China sure was delectable.

Pic-tu-res! Which reminds me what the 'Big Slave Driver' said.
You're taking pictures? Of what?! Next thing I see our faces right smack on the Net. =D

Look carefully =D cause it might look uber familiar to some. 'Mini Slave Driver' took it from her time at the landfill. Faster see whether it's your handwriting or not! I must say this brought smiles when days were dreary. I even found cds and invoices on the event. =))

Who knows, maybe this project was inspired by the above!

Remember our extensions so we're a call away if you need anything.

The trusty reddy that had this familiar perfume on it which I still can't quite figure out from which line.

Can you tell I'm obsessed with post-its? =) We're all born mad, some of us remain so. -Beckett-

*drumrolls* The Mexican. He wasn't too excited about the picture since it was rush hour at the Exit lines. Daddums said I was interrupting but hey, I did say I was gon' get a picture with one of them =D

APAC\tm19725 will have been deleted effective 5pm. Bye now [CMB-CORP]!

Aah, I'm gon' miss dressing up in the morning and slapping plasters all over my feet so the black peep-toe pumps don't eat my feet alive. Who'd think I'd have anything at all to miss from this time.

tell me your story?

2007-08-14T21:44:00.000+08:00

She leans back with a sigh after putting in place the blue trolley she dragged up the bus. After awhile she pulls close the over-sized windbreaker with her left hand while her right continued to grip tightly to the handle of the trolley. She closes her eyes and lets out another sigh.

To me, she's that lady on the bus. The one who sat next to me throughout the entire journey so I didn't have to brave through the cold on my own. She lent me her company with occasional brushing of shoulders, grunts and sighs as she slept. She's the funny being that wore a white Punjabi suit underneath her windbreaker complete with a head scarf. That's as much as she'll ever mean to me.

But she could mean the world to another. Her loved ones could be anxiously awaiting her knock on the front door.

They could be staring out the window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her shadow as she makes her way back home. A daughter may have been pacing around the telephone fighting with herself in trying to decide if a call to her mother's mobile is absolutely necessary. A husband may have been waiting on the sidewalk before the dark stretch of road so she wouldn't need to constantly check if there were sinister characters following behind.

In short, very much loved.
Yet, in this bus where almost forty of us cram together, she is just another lady. Another living breathing individual contributing to the squeeze. And the man who jumped with a 'Whoo!' when he found a seat, he's just another someone as well. We were all someones who were closer to each other during that 30 minute bus ride than we ever knew or will know.

How strange that there could be a whole long list of people who would give anything to have these people with them all the time and some of us can be so ignorant as to hate based purely on skin colour, nationality and even religion. The next time you think badly about that sweaty Indonesian construction worker or the messily dressed dispatch guy, think again!If there are people who could love those people with all their hearts, the least we could do is to let each prove their worth before allowing our stereotypes get into gear.

For in this world, hatred never cease by hatred; hatred cease only with love. This is the Eternal Law. -Dhammapada-

pfft, look here!

2007-08-10T23:35:00.000+08:00

I sat in the blue plastic seat at the back with iPod earphones stuffed in both ears while I stared into the distance. My glance never faltered although the old uncle next to me kept going "Boom!" in anticipation of a collision between motorcycles, a MiniCooper and the bus. He kept yawning and this I know because his hands kept flying to his face to cover his open mouth.

The two pairs of lovebirds in the front were being extra affectionate; whispering sweet nothings while leaning on each other's shoulder, she doodled private jokes in Sanskrit alphabets on his hand while he looked on adoringly. That was as much as I could take in of the teenage couples because my gaze held more important things that were outside, in the distance.

I just could not look away. I felt if I looked away, I would lose it and it will never return again. Or I'll never be able to find it. So my eyes soaked in every little bit of it. It seared and hurt, causing people to look like orange and yellow blobs depending on where they were. I got dizzy and yet I stared. This was one subject that never hid at the prospect of being stared at instead it challenged a stare down.

I wasn't about to back down. I must have seemed like the most conceited commuter on the bus today. It was after all the most interesting thing to do in that span of time anyway. I stared until it backed away into the horizon leaving tinges of beautiful orange, red and purple in between clouds. Yes, I had a stare down with the sun and I won. *beams*

If you didn't already know, I have an undying love affair with the rain but today it was as if I was addicted to the sun. The sandwich lunch was had in the park as it is usually had but I stayed longer. In fact it was too long that it was late when I went back. I sneaked in with my face all flushed and my hair in a mess thanks to the sweet winds. One or two of them colleagues noticed and flashed me a smile. =)

I must admit the sun was a seducing company.

Did you look at the sky today?

put on your toey-woey-wiggly socks and slide with me.

2007-08-08T22:52:00.001+08:00

My heart, it's bothered. My brain, it's semi-dead. My door, it's locked.

That problem is still a problem.

Those thoughts still cloud you and hampers with your will power.

You sigh in frustration, I sigh in misery. But that peace we felt in the dead of the car with swaying leaves and cheeky street lights must be real 'cause my heart is a tad lighter.

It's true, I go hysterical when the blues hit.
For now, I'm that coward who chooses to stay behind this locked door in the dark of the room to delay dealing.
It's not defeat I'm accepting but that I need some happyclappygocrazy moments for now.

I'll be strong for you once the keys turn in this door. I promise.

Edit: I can't do those tags. I procrastinated and now there's too many. Eeks!

she's all i'll ever want.

2007-08-07T21:02:00.000+08:00

It was a dark compartment with plush high seats. From the outside, it looked like all of us could fit. How many of us again? I forget. But many is all I know. High-pitched laughter, hiccups, rambles - it went in that order the whole time. People were swaying everywhere but I stood my ground. All that was different was my vision. Everything was a blurry haze of gray.

I could hear you, talk to you but I could barely see you. I think it was you because you never stopped talking. You never stopped telling me about the both of them. Your voice rang through like the announcements in the mall except only I was tuned in to the transmission. Everyone else was deaf to it. She was right beside you and yet she was indifferent to your words of content and admiration for her. The way you grinned as she looked at you and the joy in your voice as she said that you were always the one is imprinted in my mind.

That's when I couldn't stand for it anymore and my eyes flew open. As I lay in bed hugging Elmo, I couldn't shake off the plunge I felt. Do I know you? Was that really you? Tried to shrug it off with a ah, but it was only a dream but it wouldn't let go of me.

And then I stumbled upon blog posts with titles like Clueless and Ex-ess and Platonic Love and Being a Girl Friend and I realised that my role has never changed. No complains here. In fact it is a joy to be able to hear of her subtleties and little nothings. However who can resist wondering if this invisibility cloak will ever, ever come off.

One blog has been a source of engaging thoughts and comfort. The arguments put forward have questioned more than is usually questioned. Though it's nowhere close to a solution, Confusion's hold is not as strong as it used to be as well.

alone with me.

2007-07-26T20:39:00.000+08:00

My hair is up in a bun, I sit cross-legged on this chair facing MyDoxy. And I can't help but notice how warm this tee is making me feel. Both from physical warmth and of last year's year-end memories. It's quite funny actually how my toes and fingers are freezing cold and yet I feel this comfort that I never once felt in the past eight hours.

This drifting in and out. This lack of smiles and happy faces. This continuous repeating of repeated dialogues. It serves to remind how life have been lived from weekend to weekend. An unwanted but much needed reminder. So much for placing this under 'potentials' for after the degree is up. No one should ever have to live from weekend to weekend. It's such utter nonsense. And what of dividing the day into 'pre-lunch' and 'post-lunch' - no such thing should be tolerated. Even if it's the most convenient of options and not to mention very lucrative.

It's been almost three weeks. It feels like time is at a crawling pace.

I've been beside myself. It's been so bad, everyone at home has started counting down on my behalf to when it will all be done with. But still I sense how some simply wish I didn't have such huge ideas. I honestly tried my best to walk this road with an open mind but the time has been a long stretch of mundane things. Lying to the self is not an option while options are still within reach. This means that limbo is but a step away. Not this, not that and no where else.

. . . . .

trigger-happy

And here's to showing some love to the poet extraodinaire a.k.a Lee Zhi Wei for sharing his steal with me. If not for this supply, I'd have begun to rot into oblivion.

. . . . .

The Fray - Heaven Forbid

Twenty years, it's breaking you down,
now that you understand there's no one around,
Take a breath, just take a seat,
you're falling apart and tearing at the seems.

Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why,
Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright.

It's on your face, is it on your mind,
would you care to build a house of your own,
How much longer, how long can you wait,
It's like you wanted to go and give yourself away.

Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why,
Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright,
Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why,
Hold on tight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright.

It feels good (Is that reason enough for you),
It feels good (Is that reason enough for you),
It feels good (Is that reason enough for you),
It feels good (Is that reason enough for you).

Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why,
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright,
Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why,
Hold on tight wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright.

Out of this one,
I don't know how to get you out of this one,
I don't know how to get you out of this one,
I don't know how to get you out of this one,
I don't know how to get you out of this one.

It seems like everyones at it or getting to it at the moment. And so in the midst of happiness for every one of them... =)

thank you.

2007-07-22T22:24:00.000+08:00

I don't need pictures to prove how great the company was.

We didn't need posh places to create an atmosphere.

All we needed was six pieces of McNuggets, Shake-shake fries, regular fries, a chocolate Sundae and a large Coke.

I was read better than a book. In between lines and everything.
They did something I would never dare do. Not in a million years. It might work, might not but whenever I see it, I'll remember them.
Such mad people but I love them. *piecespieces*
They think they've started something special. I doubt it.

About time you get yourself a boyfriend!
Hows Sock, wait its Bendi Stick now isn't it?
Don't listen to them, you have so much that's hard to find in girls these days.
Stand up for yourself, you fool!
Can you have some fun or not. Everything will go okay. Okay, sayang?

Only they call me 'sayang' with so much love. Only they hug me 'till I'm in the air. Only they pat my head and ruffle my hair and say rude things to me. And it's fine 'cause the sincerity shines through.

Sometimes, I text them just to get a "Why sayang?" 'cause I know I'll be fine right after.

Thank you sayangs.

sorry rowling, it's martel & mraz.

2007-07-21T21:59:00.000+08:00

Okay, so he won 'The Man Booker Prize' award in 2002, which was five long years ago. I've been raving to the sister about him so much that she resorted to giving me half-hour reminders to bring him home or don't come home. She's so cute, no? The display held a larger, cooler version but it was 'spensive! So the broke intern brought home the slightly smaller copy that lay hidden in an obscure corner.

Yes lah while the world goes gaga, bonkers-be-donkers about the seventh Potter book, I'm walking side by side with Pi. I haven't the resources to get Rowling's work, at least not yet (what's this I hear about a price slash? =D). Martel wrote a book that I never want to finish. It's sad that reading can't be paced slower. Never mind, I've vowed to read him again as soon as I'm done.

In fact, its important I do so because books cost quite a bit.

Besides Martel, Mraz's been quite a company. It's impossible to keep a straight face when he's on. His facial expressions, cheeky singing and madman lyrics just make grinning like an idiot the most natural thing to do. He makes me forget why smiling is difficult. All the whys, hows and wheres don't dare remain in his presence.

And Doka (I think), his accompanying 'drummer' beats and holds on to the hat like a pro. =))

Jason Mraz - I'm yours.

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it,
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted,
I fell right through the cracks,
and now I'm trying to get back,
Before the cool done run out,
I'll be giving it my bestest,
Nothing's going to stop me but divine intervention,
I reckon its again my turn to win some or learn some.

But I won't hesitate no more, no more,
It cannot wait, I'm yours.

Well open up your mind and see like me,
Open up your plans and damn you're free,
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love,
Listen to the music of the moment,
people dance and sing,
we're just one big family,
and it's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved.

So I won't hesitate no more, no more,
It cannot wait I'm sure,
There's no need to complicate,
Our time is short,
This is our fate, I'm yours.

Well I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror,
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer,
But my breath fogged up the glass,
And so I drew a new face and laughed,
I guess what I'm saying is there ain't no better reason,
To rid yourself and just go with the seasons,
It's what we aim to do,
Our name is our virtue.

But I won't hesitate no more, no more,
It cannot wait I'm sure,
There's no need to complicate,
Our time is short,
This is our fate, I'm yours.

Well open up your mind and see like me,
Open up your plans and damn you're free,
Look into your heart and you'll find that the sky is yours,
So please don't, please don't, please don't,
There's no need to complicate,
Cause Our time is short,
This is our fate,
I'm yours.

count to a thousand. and then again.

2007-07-20T23:58:00.000+08:00

Every time I get on the mirror paneled elevator, I count.
The number of times my ears pop. The number of 'bings' to tell the next person that it's time to wake up and face another eight hours of constriction. The lighted numbers. The number of feet. The yawns. The smiles.

I'm not a very big fan of numbers but I've taken to counting. It's the next best thing after dancing along to tunes. You see, public display of joy and self-entertainment is shunned so everything self-gratifying is done minimally. And counting doesn't show, at least not obviously.

So guess who whoops for joy and does a lil' jiggy when the elevator is empty? I could probably be the most entertaining individual on the surveillance cameras, if there are any. Oh well, the 'Mexicans' need some bit of entertainment too, right?

It has been prison-like with a long list of rules. Every step, every turn, every move is observed. The need to prove directives is beyond me. The ridiculous reasons behind absurd 'favors' wills me to say something. But of course I don't.

There's to be no more of this.

It apparently doesn't look professional. Fine. Then she says because I walk in and out of the offices of the 'Big Bosses' and somehow or rather his name came up. She tried dramatics but it so didn't deliver. All she had to do was go with the first line and I'd understand. Sometimes I wonder if she realises that interns have a mind too. A trained one at that. *throws hands in air* She's making me act like a five-year old. She's only satisfied when I act like one anyway.

So much for 'a learning experience like no other. we require speed, precision and achieving is of utmost importance.' It just sounds like an educational experience but in actuality, they're making sure that nothing is learnt unless you consider cutting, pasting, blindly copying as learning.

. . . . .

She's in limbo.
Every turn proves to be a dead end. Either soon to be or already is. She trusted but trust is overrated.
They've said it one too many times assuring that it is an honest thought. Thoughts remain in the head and that's all they are.
Where now? How now? What now?

. . . . .

If you get what you deserve, I must have done something really really rotten some time in the past.
There's no buffering it.
There's no two ways to it.
It's not an act.
If it sounds trivial to you, I guess your shoulder was never mine to cry on.
Maybe a good sob fest will help.
Maybe a ridiculous amount of chocolate will help.
Aah, and maybe cows can fly.

. . . . .

I'm sorry. You weren't here. Actually no one is.

But as everyone assumes, I'll be fine. Why? Because I'm good at that.

mangled hearts and pretty brown eyes.

2007-07-16T19:59:00.000+08:00

. . . . .

I blame it on the way the iPod earphones are so great it feels as if you're listening to the band live. I blame it on the way mirrors are everywhere and staring into them is inevitable. I blame it on how I am doing tasks for high school students. I blame it on being so high up that I'm constantly tempted to do multiple bungee jumps running through the windows.

Maybe it's the play list on the iPod. Or maybe its the excess idle moments while on the job. It could also be the bookworm/music lover lunch breaks. Funny how it could be so many things and yet its revolving around a select two.

There's the way you look right through me. Calling even when I'm walking right at you. Smiling when you really don't feel like it. Declining because you can't but yearning desperately. Crossing your fingers for it to get worse in the hopes of getting better.

Better safe than sorry, that's what I hear over and over again. I thought it was clear as day; it's nothing. It's not real. It's what I've painted in my mind's eye. And only mine at that. So why when I've mutilated it beyond saving, the careful speech comes up. I had confirmation. I have confirmation. Even if it's reciprocated, I can't have it. I won't. I don't do very well in shadows. Confusion folds me in its tight embrace. Ironically, I feel comforted within its folds. Thoughts fade away faster than I can hold on to it because of one's expert advice. Things are great the way it is, I'm just bracing myself for the eventual when leaving is the only thing left for it. Must everyone leave?
~ that one in the past made all in the future impossible.

I don't need clarification, I need assurance.