MELTING RAINBOWS ATE ME WHOLE

2011-11-23T23:09:00.001+08:00

You make me so so so happy :-) :-) :-)

The day I wake up to realize this isn't real will be the day I regret saying this but I am having so much fun being a fool. Fully expecting the pain to slaughter me but for now, :-)

2011-11-17T23:24:00.003+08:00

this feeling is new. or at least it's a feeling i haven't felt in a long time. either way, you make me feel so alive there really isn't any other way to say it - your voice - IT MAKES ME SO ALIVE. now if things will go my way,

you will be the best birthday present ever and i love that my christmas/birthday presents always come early xx

2011-11-17T22:08:00.001+08:00

CAN I JUST SAY KEY IS THE SEXIEST MAN ALIVE............ WATCH THE SEMI-SHAVED HEAD ONE ON THE FAR RIGHT <3

2011-11-17T17:28:00.001+08:00

"do you have a boyfriend?"
"if I did I wouldn't be watching shinee all day and sleeping all the time"
"then do you like anybody?"
"key!"
"other than key?"
"... Taemin"
"I thought taemin was manly at first"

My brother lies on my bed and we stare at my broken light. Then I ask him to take me to the underwater world because I would like to see the sharks and stingrays. I remember loving the underwater world - snakes, starfish, jellyfish. I would like to say I love animals but I don't, I only like them. My brother loves them though. He's always reading and watching clips of animals in the wild. I watch it with him, sometimes. I wish there was a way to see these animals living in the wild and not behind glass doors. Is this real for them?

They deserve to be free and happy and I guess everyone deserves that too.

2011-11-16T23:42:00.001+08:00

In my mind is where you are safe. There is no where else that I can protect you, not in my heart, not in my soul. There is nothing left of me to give. Wring this muscle they call a heart, bleed it dry and let it die. This is how it should be.
In my mind I can live in my own world with you because there is no pain. The further I am from here the closer I am to you yet there comes a higher chance of heartbreak. But this is not relevant. We are a reality that does not exist. It is contained and I am able to conceal it well. This is what I am good at and it is the only thing I know. There is a fear that is real but it does not exist beyond the barricades of my mind because we do not exist here. And so the fear disintegrates and I love you well; well in my mind, but I am not capable of more. There is no place for us in this world. I don't believe anymore.

2011-11-16T18:57:00.006+08:00

we accept the love we think we deserve

i have forgotten many things

but i haven't forgotten what it felt

to be beside you and to be

with you

my hands in your hands we sat not watching tv,

but watching the lives of ourselves,

and then us,

and then ourselves again.

we watched ourselves alone.

it was a label that locked us which we tried to fulfill

we tried too hard yet we tried nothing at all

we were alone;

only we were alone, together.

it is simple.

you deserve everything,

while i deserve nothing.

nothing more, nothing less,

nothing.

this is how it's meant to be

2011-08-20T16:35:00.000+08:00

Inefficient

You like to live your life without plans, and when you do have a plan you're happy to ignore it. While you're not necessarily opposed to getting work done, you're very good at finding other ways to spend your time.

You are not anal, or even particularly well organized. You don't enjoy sticking to your plans, and don't mind when you don't finish on time.

Slapdash

You believe things will turn out fine even if they don't go precisely according to plan. As far as you're concerned, it's not the end of the world if a project falls short of perfection.

You don't feel compelled to dot every "i" and cross every "t."

Original

You are constantly coming up with new ideas. For you, the world as it exists is just a jumping-off place; what's going on inside your mind is often more interesting than what's going on outside.

You don't feel that the road to success is to be a realist and stick to the program; you never stop yourself from coming up with new ideas or telling the world what you're thinking about.

Impulsive

You trust your your instincts. What others may see as rash behavior is, for you, simply going with your gut. Individuals with a high score on the "impulsive" trait tend to try new, sometimes outrageous, things.

You are not timid. For you, spending time microscopically examining the pros and cons of every decision means never getting anything accomplished.

Distracted

You have a lot going on in your life, which means you don't always get to things when you'd like to. You mean well, but sometimes you lose track of what you're doing, and it can take a while to find your place. The good news is that you can usually summon the will to keep going until the job is done.

You don't always start a job with the utmost enthusiasm, lock in immediately on what's important, do a great job, or finish quickly.

Aesthetic

You appreciate art, beauty, and design; you know that they are not superficial but absolutely crucial to living the good life. You have good taste, and you're proud of it. Those with a high score on the "aesthetic" trait are often employed in literary or artistic professions, enjoy domestic activities — doing things around the house — and are enthusiastic about the arts, reading, and travel.

You don't think it's pretentious to be moved by art and beauty. You're not one of those who believe it doesn't matter what something looks like as long as it does its job.

Unflappable

You are not a slave to your emotions. It takes a lot to upset or unnerve you. That's why you're a good person to have around in a crisis.

You don't let it all hang out, which means that those around you often don't know the pressures you're under or what you're going through. You're not the kind of person people run from in a crisis.

Passionate

You are in touch with your emotions, and sometimes you react before you think. The good news: you don't tamp down your feelings. The bad news: you sometimes say or do things that you later wish you could take back.

You do not live your life on an even keel; you do not go for long periods without experiencing some mood swings.

Introspective

You like your own company; you're a very interesting person. Tracking your own mental processes, knowing what you're thinking and why you do what you do, is important to you. Often, what's going on in your mind is more compelling than what's going on outside. For the most part, those with a high score on the "introspective" trait enjoy reading, taking long walks, learning new things, and other solitary activities.

You are not someone who is constantly looking to be among a group of friends; you never feel bored when you are by yourself.

Loose

You feel that a clean, orderly desk is the sign of a person who doesn't have enough to do. Schedules and "to do" lists feel stifling; you thrive on a sense that anything goes, and know that the world won't end if you don't clean up after finishing a job.

You don't need to know that everything is in its place; it is not empowering to you to feel that the world around you is neat and organized. Mowing down every item on your "to do" list, every day, does not bring you joy.

FREED MIND IN MY VOICE

2011-07-29T22:10:00.002+08:00

searching for paradise

2011-07-11T23:30:00.003+08:00

this is completely irrelevant but i need lists:

sleep before 12
have breakfast
have a glass of milk
have more fruit
pass on supper
read more
write more

there are several pieces of writing required of me that are very important. what if i fail to convey what i mean. this always happens.

UNREMITTING

2011-06-29T21:23:00.006+08:00

there are some days i feel the dire need to write, and some days i don't. i always feel like, once i write i am happier and when i don't i feel nothing because writing clarifies my thoughts. i am going to write more

today my sister sent me to school. i held her hand while we were walking across the road and i said to her, 'we haven't done this in a long time, taking a taxi together' i talked about this with her a few days ago, about the 2004 wimbledon. on the bus to ballet i asked her if she thought serena/sharapova was going to win and before she could answer i remember saying, 'i want sharapova to win but i think serena will' she said she thought so too. these days i get recurring images of the past, exact sceneries and locations, and i remember vividly all that happened then and all of what was transpired. we passed by mirage towers just now and i remember the swimming pool, the carpark, the toilet; i recall exactly what/how things happened there, and who were with me. i was never alone.

i feel extremely comfortable when i'm tucked in the corner of a room and holding myself together, knees propped and my arms pulling everything towards me. i don't know what it is but i like that feeling, of feeling small and hidden away. like i am shielded by the shelters of my own abode, and in my mind i quietly unravel the stories of all that i want to happen and here is where i am safe. i watch the world peel off layer by layer of crust until it reaches its core. often times i feel like i'm too big and am taking up too much space. i want to be watching from the outside in, not involved in any of these activities that would make up [life]. instead, i wish to live vicariously through everyone else

2011-06-29T09:44:00.001+08:00

i don't know anything but i know i will never want to talk to you the way i have before

2011-06-25T22:20:00.014+08:00

triangle / stop smiling / cross and square / tanglin and rolling / pancake / through / lock / three quarters / st. wilfred / extend / troll / blur / "DO A YOUZHNY!!!" / long / milo ball / deep / halfway shots / melon milk / 4 - 6 & 6 - 8 / ladder / knees / six-inch killers / short / heavy / over / FBD / princess / intensity / "there's only one in singapore and i'm giving it to you - you're gonna be the only one to have it YOU BETTER NOT LOSE IT" / circuit / feet / code / mei mei / focus / shrimp / "you are capable of so much more than your mind allows" / coke / snap / grip / adelaide / 6, 7, 8 / straights /wrist / mind / starfish / mirage towers / judy moody / potential / brush / long sleeves / bandung / buy a plant / slow-mo / rocky /"be a fighter but you're a quitter"

this shall not make sense to anyone but me

DREAMERS

2011-06-25T02:03:00.005+08:00

there is so much we have yet to uncover which we do not know, and hence cannot seek to fully comprehend. feel like there is in no way i can seamlessly integrate all my thoughts into one fluent piece, even though all of these are related

i am watching murray now, and i told my sister, "when i watch all these players play i don't think of how hard they've worked to get there, instead i think they are lucky" i meant, lucky to have been born in a place that allows for their athletic development, but mostly, lucky to have the talent. but watching emerging players reminds me that everybody has a start, that we were all dreamers once and we all had the same starting point. that they are not lucky, but have worked hard and have given up so much to get to where they are and this is only what they deserve. that on tv, all that we know of is the glitter and glamour of plates and trophies, of semi-finals and finals. that i overlook the fact that, when they were young, they dreamt of similar things to me but they made these things happen for them. that they had to play qualifiers and started off as wild cards and were uncertain of their future. and yet, given that all the pros on tour work equally hard, some make it and some don't, and i wonder if that is luck as well. what you have is what i gave to you via him, i hate seeing you live out what i couldn't have and would never have. i think you are infinitely lucky.

watching murray is burdening. i told my sister that to me it is apparent murray is fighting for the United Kingdom and not for himself, that he is not carrying the weight of his dreams but the weight of his country's. and when he is disappointed he is disappointed in himself, for not living to the expectations held of him, and when he wins he is himself relieving his country of the burden of producing a champion - for his win is not his own, but for his people.

"i can cry like roger, it's a shame i can't play like him." / "sorry i couldn't do it for you tonight"

i want this for him very badly.

GATES

2011-06-20T21:16:00.006+08:00

life comes along and snatches you away from the claws of all things young and good; you try to keep yourself intact and afloat but are never able to stay as whole or as buoyant as you were. death is your only escape. with the weight of everything else, you fall within the depths of yourself, rotting nails scratching off the surface of your decomposing skin. you try to stay alive in this game of bluff and cheat you knew you'd never win, wondering why you could never be saved

'SO MUCH OF ME IS MADE FROM WHAT I LEARNED FROM YOU'

2011-06-20T21:01:00.004+08:00

feel like you reveal too much of yourself for everyone to know of your vulnerabilities/weaknesses. always remind myself to keep all of me within this being because i can't trust anyone [here]. until my skin stretches beyond its capacity and threatens to split at the ends between the tips of my fingers and my nails, i will keep quiet. silence is always safer.

i remember telling my brother i liked it when he fought with his girlfriend because he would spend more time at home, with me. he told me in these words exactly, "my sisters will always be the most important to me" yesterday i snuggled up to him on his mattress and said, "play with me". he turned to me and asked if i thought i was a baby. he stroked my head and invited me to lay on his lap while we watched simpsons & rally for relief, comfortable under his thick blue sheets.

my siblings will always be the most important to me.

in the car we were wrestling to lie on each other. i took the long red dog we all sleep on and rested it on his lap and mine. eyes closed, his head went forward while i positioned it for myself. "ah, you got me a pillow"

days i like most are days spent with them

2011-06-20T16:06:00.002+08:00

should be reading so much more, haven't read properly in too long :-(

the girl with glass feet - ali shaw

girl meets boy - ali smith

cold blood - truman capote

extremely loud and incredibly close - jonathan safran foer

water for elephants - sara gruen

oranges are not the only fruit - jeanette winterson

JOY RIDE

2011-06-17T01:52:00.003+08:00

i have loved spending the past 3 days with daddy he means everything to me :-) gutted i won't be able to go to work with him tomorrow, although i think he's somewhat glad for that because i think i'm so annoying since i wouldn't stop bothering him. on the second day of work uncle vincent saw me in daddy's room and he said, "oh you're here, no wonder your daddy didn't call me out for lunch"

mommy and bibo are home, very happy to see them again. the only one not home, for now, is my brother. he texted daddy when daddy was driving to say he wouldn't be home tonight because he has a lot of work to do and daddy asked me to say, "ok, see you tomorrow" instead i replied "ALAMAK YOU!!! SMACK YOUR BOM BOM :P"

feel like i don't nearly spend ever enough time with them even though i always choose to be at home. i want to incorporate every second of my life into theirs but that's not possible. they need their own space and i need mine.

SHE SPOKE WORDS THAT WOULD MELT IN YOUR HANDS

2011-06-14T00:05:00.008+08:00

tuesday/wednesday: daddy's office

thursday: tennis @ tanglin

friday: mother/sister come home

saturday: transformation

"I don't ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there will always be the person I am tonight." - Tender is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald

always feel like, i find meaning in certain sentences in books/texts, lyrics in music, lines in poetry, and i fit myself into a situation so i can relate to it. i.e last night, i was happy with you, not knowing if i might be today, and that quote was specific to the time in which i felt its relevance to my life/descriptive of only that moment. today, all i read of that quote is beautifully constructed sentences, no longer pertinent to my life as it was yesterday. i think it'd be interesting to know what parallelism it has to somebody else's life when they use the same quote/lyric to describe what they feel at that time, its meaning to them and how our lives differ

there are a multitude of layers i have built within myself and have yet to rediscover

2011-06-13T02:28:00.002+08:00

i told my brother, i want to be young again and he said, are you stressed, it doesn't seem like it.

FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD

2011-06-11T14:49:00.001+08:00

Heaven opened then, indeed. The flash was almost too novel for its inexpressibly dangerous nature to be at once realised, and they could only comprehend the magnificence of its beauty. It sprang from east, west, north, south and was a perfect dance of death. The forms of skeletons appeared in the air, shaped with blue fire for bones - dancing, leaping, striding, racing around, and mingling altogether in unparalleled confusion. With these were intertwined undulating snakes of green, and behind these was a broad mass of lesser light. Simultaneously came from every part of the tumbling sky what may be called a shout; since, though no shout ever came near it, it was more of the nature of a shout than of anything else earthly. In the meantime, one of the grisly forms had alighted upon the point of Gabriel's rod, to run invisibly down it, down the chain, and into the earth. Gabriel was almost blinded, and he could feel Bathsheba's warm arm tremble in his hand - a sensation novel and thrilling enough; but love, life, everything human, seemed small and trifling in such close juxtaposition with an infuriated universe.
Thomas Hardy

**

i bought water for elephants yesterday, excited to read it.

SYLLOGISM

2011-06-09T21:25:00.001+08:00

when i look to the shape of my heart / it's separated only by scars / that cut in and cut out / and leave me without a heart that functions at all

all of me is concealed within myself.

BE MY SAVIOUR

2011-06-05T17:42:00.003+08:00

this is my father, he is the tall one in the coat and the beanie, hands tucked into his pocket. i have been meaning to write about him for a while now, i just haven't. today we are clearing the storeroom because renovation works start tomorrow. my mother found a stack of these photos and she asks, where is this, almost every time she flips to the next photo. my father tells us, this is in canada, and this is in korea, i can't remember if this is in macau or if it is thailand, i must show these to simon and vincent. uncle simon and uncle vincent are his very good friends whom we always meet up with as a family; they are both very funny. uncle simon greets everyone with "hello hello" because sometimes he cannot remember our names, but he has gotten better. every time i meet him he will ask, when are we going to play tennis, the bet is still on, although i don't remember having any bet with him. he also insists he can cook, fried rice specifically, and that he will cook for us soon but it always seems my father is the one cooking and i don't mind that. i like that very much, i want to learn to cook from my father soon. uncle vincent is a short man with a red face, i don't know much about him except that he is very funny and blur, can eat a lot and very much likes to eat chicken rice. i remember my father telling me once, "every time i meet uncle vincent for lunch, he tells me he wants to eat chicken rice" i recall my brother telling me of the time we were on a cruise and the noodles came piping hot but uncle vincent polished it off in a matter of minutes. my brother nicknamed him aircon mouth which i think is very funny because my father works in the aircon industry and uncle vincent is his friend. i like all these people, they make my father happy.

my father's left elbow has been hurting and he can no longer hold the wok with his left hand when he cooks. when he drives i see his difficulty in moving the controller. because of renovation works, he insists he will himself buy a sink and a shower point because he cannot trust the contractors. he carries them in and his elbow is evidently hindering him but he refuses my help. i ask him why he is hurting so much and he tells me it is a tennis elbow just that he doesn't play tennis and neither has he been playing much golf. the resignation in his "i haven't been playing golf" stung - to me it seemed like he was trapped and he had no outlet for relaxation because work has been tiring, as it always is, and renovation works trouble him. then i remembered he played golf just last week, the day after my mother's birthday.

on saturdays my father will take me by the hand and we will walk to this noodle stall where we have our favourite fishball noodles. i never finish my fishballs and i always pass him 2, so he ends up eating 7 fishballs while i have 3. i remember once he told me, "i'm very full today because i had oats while waiting for you at tennis, i cannot help you with the fishballs today" then he went off to buy a coke, for both of us to share because it is nicer that way, and i put a fishball into his bowl and he didn't realise and he ate it. i couldn't stop laughing and he asked me what's so funny and i told him what i did and he sighed, and laughed, and pretended he wanted to hammer me. i love my father very much.

i think what i miss most about tennis tournaments, other than steve, is having my father there watching me at the oddest times of the day, even though i continually complain i don't like him there because there is some kind of pressure. but i like that he is there waiting for me and massaging me and rolling the courts for me. it makes me feel like i'm not alone on court. he is the only one i don't mind having there watching me.

i am watching him eat his organically grown raisins now, the only raisins he will eat, while he flips through the photos. he just pointed to a man in the photographs we found earlier and said, "this man has passed away"

i want to die before everyone else.

THE DRUMS

2011-05-30T03:04:00.001+08:00

I want to fall hopelessly in love again, with someone new, someone who will with absolute certainty crush this heart I wouldn't call mine. I want to hurt because that's the only way to feel again. I want this person to fail me in the most cruel ways possible and in the birth of a heartbreak I will cry, with the onslaught of your images conjured up in my own mind I will accordingly expel all that has been held within all this time. For having been unable to provide you with all things necessary to have you love me back I envisage a slew of emotions when eventually all that's been wrecking me shakes the ground. I will feel ripped apart; the flesh raw and tender and young; despite having anticipated this failure because you would have been all that I have wished for. In this turmoil I will feel alive again, renewed with the pain of having wholeheartedly loved again. For now I need to fall into a state of foolishness to garner the energy and strength, the courage to break these barricades erected from long ago that have guiltily prevented me from feeling.

I want to die in love.

FUNCTIONALITY

2011-05-27T16:24:00.003+08:00

today i shall make up for the lack of writing in my life for the past few weeks/months. feel like once i start writing i never want to stop and when i do it all comes to an end. but eventually i will pick up writing again and that's when the knot unloosens.

spent a good half an hour on diane's airwalker machine, some kind of gym equipment for times you feel like exercising. it is easy exercise, there are two pedals of some sort for you to step on and two bars for you to hold on. the pedals are long and i don't know where to put my feet, at the top, the centre, or the end. either way i felt like i was going to fall, mostly backwards and i was afraid. because what i've been feeling this whole time has finally taken on a physical form, only this time, there is support. i lean back and i think, how lucky it is that in the event i slip i will not fall. that there is something there to save me. someone will save me soon. i asked, what is the point in the bars for your hands when it makes walking on the airwalker seem like i'm not walking at all. i asked also why the design of the machine made it that my knees would be locked by default. but these are all irrelevant. what bothered me most was the fact that having spent half an hour 'walking' i was trapped in the same spot, in that inconspicuous corner of the house.

i fear not being able to go anywhere but i know ultimately it is this fear that has paralysed me all along and until i rid of this fear i will continue to be stuck

2011-05-27T15:51:00.003+08:00

suddenly i see the clarity after having articulated that i am happiest alone re previous post less than 10 minutes ago; while this we share has been most special i realise i really like being on my own

WARNING SIGN

2011-05-27T15:34:00.003+08:00

i am at diane's house. they're sitting in the living room but i'm outside, on the wooden bench. it is drizzling and i feel each drop of rain brushing against my skin. the bench is slightly uncomfortable, hard against my ankle bones but that's okay, finally seems like there's something i can feel again. i think i hear thunder but i'm not sure, the sky is clear and it is quiet. the grass and trees all around put me at peace, there is no conflict. my music has been on shuffle. oddly, friday i'm in love has been played thrice. didn't realise this was of any significance until i thought about how i'm constantly retracting from the love all around me, specifically these few days. i keep giving the excuse that i need time, but i do nothing with this time i've been granted. i am too much of an escapist, yesterday's writing did nothing for me, i didn't feel the conviction and the relief in having expelled all the negative emotion just because i didn't commit to feeling. i don't think i've felt so useless with words, having given them zero meaning or life. i need to think, and i need to write, but in this entanglement where do i begin. a butterfly just fluttered across my face and i shunned. i would like to believe that this unnecessary fear makes me somewhat real.

i think i am happiest alone; perhaps it is this selfishness that is consuming me, i suffer when someone dedicates so much of [whatever that is pertinent] to me. i don't ever think it is possible, to love someone that much to wholly give yourself away. 'to protect yourself from hurt is to prevent yourself from loving' - i wonder if i'll ever have the chance to love anyone the way you love me.

INHABITANTS

2011-05-26T19:38:00.003+08:00

in this i do not seek anything.

i am stuck in a glass box full of water and i am thinking of all the impossibilities. i see you, standing on the outside; you are happy. i struggle against the tide of my mind in the unmoving water and i reach for something, something clearly intangible, perhaps an arbitrary bar for me to cling on, to pull up and push my head above the water, to allow one final breath. but all i feel is the pressure of the water against me slowly dragging along my skin - i tire of continuously failing to save myself.

brought to surface what was already simmering beneath: the fact that in your eyes, i never once existed.

2011-05-23T22:27:00.000+08:00

Finally, I can see you crystal clear,
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare,
See how I'll leave with every piece of you,
Don't underestimate the things that I will do,

INFINITE

2011-05-18T22:39:00.005+08:00

won't be making up, I've cried my heart out
and now I've had enough of love.
who wants to be riding high when you'll just crumble back on down.
you give up everything you are and even then you don't get far.
they make believe that everything is exactly what it seems.
but at least when you're at your worst, you'll know how to feel things.

go ahead and steal my heart to make me cry again,
'cause it will never hurt as much it did then,
when we were both right and no one had blame,
but now I give up on this endless game.

i think what's most sickening is that for the entirety of my life, i have to live with this invariably problematic mind

REHABILITATION

2011-04-29T00:50:00.003+08:00

i feel drugged. i feel like i'm perpetually stuck in this void. i wish i could as readily jettison all this hurt and hypocrisy as i could have previously. i feel like i used to be so much stronger than this, the vessels now are so thin and easily ripped apart. and layer by layer i build it up only for it to crumble into a bigger mess than it was with each injection of emotion. these vessels have further disintegrated and all this now only serves to exacerbate the situation, crushing the fragments of this wasted heart into foreign yet familiar smithereens. this always happens, i've seen these minsicule samples of hollow arteries and broken chambers but each time it surprises me how much smaller this heart can get, the negativity brewing in this organ that has shrunken it to this incredulously sorry state. the torrentiality at which fresh blood leaks from the holes of this empty mass of nothing scares me and i watch expectantly from the outside, waiting for the downpour to come to an eventual slow down but it never does. i don't know what i want from this and where this anger is coming from, or at what and which direction i should channel it at, other than myself, but i know i'm doing this wrong because i don't want everyone to go through the same shit as me only because they care.

people should stop caring about me. i barely deserve this.

after all

2011-04-17T01:53:00.003+08:00

Can we get back to the point in this conversation

Where we saw things through each other's eyes
Cause now all I see is ruin and devastation
We all need some place we can hide inside

After all, we're only human

Always fighting what we're feeling
Hurt instead of healing
After all we're only human
Is there any other reason
Why we stay instead of leaving

:-( :-( :-(

feel like i've changed, i realise now more starkly that i was never nice, never tried to be and i'm never going to be. feel like, i've only gotten worse.

hate myself

CLAMP

2011-04-15T23:17:00.001+08:00

i know

i will love him

more than i can love anyone else

and in a way i will never come

to know

2011-04-11T00:08:00.001+08:00

Alicia says:

eh i love your blog alot

dont stop writing k

this in itself is so lovely :-) xx

SO MANY POSSIBILITIES TO NOT BE ALONE

2011-03-10T22:27:00.006+08:00

he said he felt dread, about life, and i said i feel the same way too. felt like he wanted me to say things i couldn't have said, to cheer up because things will get better; and then i thought of all the times i tweeted before about my sporadic bursts of disgust towards myself. what had i expected in saying something like that? i don't tell anybody specifically anything, i realise i am unworthy of the attention. i decide that it is unnecessary for me to tell people [what i feel] because i don't want them to waste their time on me and it is only so tough to talk to someone who is upset with themselves and simultaneously have to try and make them feel better about themselves (i.e. what is the point in saying "things will brighten up" when you can't guarantee it) what more when you know for a fact that your words hold barely any significance. they can't possibly make someone feel better, other than surrounding themselves with the comfort of knowing they are loved, because in that moment their thoughts gravitate to their [temporary/permanent] general unhappiness.

i told him if i were him i wouldn't bother, i can't even begin to care about relationships that i see no point in holding. after a while i thought i was selfish, i know he sees the point in holding on to that relationship which is why he is upset in the first place but i couldn't empathise with him and said "i wouldn't care". felt like a beast, narcissistically imposing my beliefs on him. i am revolting.

i also realise, i am not close to the people i love. for the dynamics of the relationships i keep close i feel it is eventually always [relatively] easy to walk away than it seems, because i readily will myself to believe that if someone no longer tries i accept that i am the problem, i am boring and undeserving. with the people whom i've not kept close to, i feel no regret, i do not miss them. i don't recall being in a state of limbo for a prolonged period of time where i feel i am painful because i am no longer close to someone; i guess i've dealt with this too many times to continue to be bothered. people always leave. i constantly remind myself that i only have myself to love and when everyone walks away the only person capable of loving [me] is myself, because my shortcomings will make them run and shun, and i will be alone. i must create this happiness for myself. "i am alone but not lonely"

my life i think used to vacillate too much between being happy and being unhappy. i am glad for where i am now, i am in between, neutral - not in any sense particularly happy, but i am not unhappy either. this is how i want to live, for a while, take this all in, the possibility that maybe good things can happen to me if i allow it and [things] will inevitably swing to the positive side of cycle and i will be happy.

i am going to taiwan, i was excited but suddenly i no longer am, perhaps it was your disinterest that makes me feel i shouldn't be because there is nothing to be psyched about. / i will bring one or maybe two books along, i haven't read properly in a while. work should come first though i reckon. / i don't like how you treat us, like your backup, fickle as a doll. / "i feel like i'm your mother trying to surprise you" i cannot wait / i want to get to know you better, better than i have ever known myself. it will be nice knowing something i like. / i do not love. / nikki from white tree fine art tweeted me / i miss my sister / good night

IT DOESN'T INTEREST ME WHAT PLANETS ARE SQUARING YOUR MOON

2011-03-06T18:18:00.004+08:00

Westminster Hall

by Richard Dimbleby

It is very simple, this Lying-in-State of a dead King, and of incomparable beauty. High above all light and shadow and rich in carving is the massive roof of chestnut, that Richard II put over the great Hall. From that roof the light slants down in clear, straight beams, unclouded by any dust, and gathers in a pool at one place. There lies the coffin of the King.

The oak of Sandringham, hidden beneath the rich golden folds of the Standard; the slow flicker of the candles touches gently the gems of the Imperial Crown, even that ruby that King Henry wore at Agincourt. It touches the deep purple of the velvet cushion and the cool, white flowers of the only wreath that lies upon the flag. How moving can such simplicity be. How real the tears of those who pass and see it, and come out again, as they do at this moment in unbroken stream, to the cold, dark night and a little privacy for their thoughts.

Who can know what they are thinking? Does that blind man whom they lead so carefully down the thick carpet sense around him the presence of history? Does he know that Kings and Queens have feasted here and stood their trial and gone to their death? And that little woman, with the ariman by her side - does she feel the ghosts that must be here in the shadows of the Hall? The men and the women of those tumultuous days of long ago, of Chaucer, Essex, Anne Boleyn, Charles and Cromwell, Warren Hastings and those early Georges? Or does she, and do all those over seventy thousand of the nation, who will have passed through this day alone, think only of the sixth George; the faithful George who lies there now, guarded by the living statues of his officers and Gentlemen at Arms and Yeomen of the Guard. For in the few Seconds that are all that can be given to each subject pass by his dead King, there is colour and splendour and loveliness beyond compare.

i read this yesterday when i was at kay siang; i typed it furiously on my blackberry after i read it because i had neither pencil nor paper to copy it down on. this is my second time typing it out, i googled it and this wasn't available. i enjoyed typing it, letter by letter, word by word, sentence by sentence. capitalising the K in King and the Q in Queen. i hardly ever capitalise words i should re: i vs I because i feel, small and unimportant. also, i read this in ted hughes' birthday letters and alas, i can't find the full version of it online, only annotated ones, so i'll type it out here because i think it's so beautiful, i've been mulling over it for days, reading it over and over again and each time i do i get a different feeling it is so refreshing. (i love it so much i copied it on the cardboard of my foolscap paper, i read it when i am bored/have nothing better to do)

The Lodger

by Ted Hughes

Potatoes were growing in the yard corner

That September. They were the welcome wagon!

First fruits of our own ground. And their flavour

Was the first legend. Pioneer

In our own life, those mornings -

I bought the spades, the forks, the overalls, the boots.

And the books. The books! I was a student

Gluttonous to swallow all horticulture,

The whole cornucopia. I began to dig.

I had to start right - I double-dug

The entire garden. And my heart,

And whatever hid in my heart, dug with me.

I assumed I was doomed - a matter of time

Before the heart jumped out of my body

Or simply collapsed. After a few hours digging

Suddenly something gave, the sweat burst out,

I was shaking. Heart. By now I was accustomed.

It could only be heart. The pangs. The poundings.

At night on my pillow the syncopated stagger

Of the pulse in my ear. Russian roulette:

Every heartbeat a fresh throw of the dice -

A click of Russian Roulette. Strange

To be lying on my bed

Contemplating my heart as it knocked me to pieces,

As if I were attending the ache of a tooth.

And yet my heart was me. I was my heart.

My heart, that had always sung me through

My frenzies of exertion. How could it fail me?

I carried it everywhere with me, a dying child.

Weighing at my chest. A sudden spike

Under my left shoulder-blade.

Or a sword - horrible image of the thin blade

Pushed down vertically beside my neck

Inside the clavicle. Or a gnawing

At my ribs, from the inside. Worst

The unpredictable faintness - instant gear-slip

From infinite energy to ghostly nothing,

The drive jolted into neutral, and my motor

Racing uselessly. How many times a day

Hypochondria walked, holding my arm

Like a nurse, her fingers over my pulse.

Well, I was going to die.

I started a diary - observations

Of my heart's errata.

My waking with strengthless hands. My going to bed

With fingers that throbbed so hard

They jerked the book I clung to and stared at.

The timing of the double-fisted blow

That came down between my shoulder-blades

'Soft but stunning like the kick of a camel'.

The sudden lapping at my throat of loose blood

Like a bird escaped, broken-winged,

From a cat briefly. Efforts to make my whole

Body a conduit of Beethoven,

To reconduct that music through my aorta

So he could run me clean and unconstrained

And release me. I could not reach the music.

All the music told me

Was that I was a reject, belonged no longer

In the intact, creating, resounding realm

Where music poured. I was already a discard,

My momentum merely the inertias

Of what I had been, while I disintegrated.

I was already posthumous.

Whatever I looked at, any cat or dog,

Saw me already dead, merely

Lurching on a few paces, perfunctory vision

Still on my retina.

My new study

Was all the ways a heart can kill its owner

and how mine had killed me. Of all this one,

Two, three years I told you nothing.

Meanwhile

Who was using my heart,

Who positioned our bee-hive and planted,

With my unwitting hands, to amuse himself,

Nine bean rows? Who was this alien joker

Who had come to evict us,

Sharing my skin, just as he shared yours,

Watching my digging, so calmly? And gazing

Over your shoulder, into the poems you polished

As into this or that or the other mirror

That tried to ignore him?

I'M AN OPTIMIST BUT ONLY IN A PERFECT WORLD

2011-03-03T21:51:00.005+08:00

how can i expect myself to receive more than i can give? i feel everyone tire of my presence. someone said to me, "i'm really tired, i've never been this tired before" i told him living drains me. i am perpetually tired, of myself, this tiredness he could never understand because he is at worst, physically/mentally tired and this weariness will ebb away eventually. i don't dare to claim i will be okay, it seems preposterous to impose such unnecessarily true happenings on myself if i cannot ascertain that things will go the way i wish for them to.

i wasn't born to survive this life.

i realise i'm not the person i seem to be - he said it's sad to see me sad because i'm always happy and i said no, i only appear to be. i don't have many friends, but the friends i keep are more than enough to keep me satisfied and i am so thankful for them. i told him, if x doesn't try to keep the relationship going then maybe x isn't worth the effort/pain. i also qualified that my system of operation is different, i don't believe in keeping up with half-hearted friendships that involve frivolous conversations; if someone, for any reason, stops communicating with me i will accept that he/she does not think i am worth the time, wallow not weep and plod on. because to me it only makes perfect sense that if the person isn't as committed as you are towards the relationship, you will end up being hurt.

i guess it is this barricade my heart has erected that stops me from loving.

WAITING TO FALL

2011-03-01T19:30:00.003+08:00

feel like even if it isn't your intention to remind me i'm ugly, the only purpose of my existence is to pride you with the pleasure of having someone beneath you to hurl all your (unnecessary irrelevant mindless unreasonable baseless) shit at.

but if it makes you happy, i don't mind being the pile of dirt for you to trample on even if it means having to deal with lapsing in between the marginal void of being thankful for my existence and feeling as if i exist with a purpose at all, after having finally gotten out of that rut

of feeling like i should rip myself apart and cease the continuity of what i wouldn't call mine, or life

HIDE AND SEEK

2011-02-22T21:14:00.004+08:00

i acknowledge the familiarity of it all, your face, your actions, your words. i think relationships that can be defined are superficial. i could never be bothered with frivolous friendships - friendships that have no depth, friendships that are easily forgotten, friendships that mean nothing to me. that doesn't matter though. the dilapidation of what used to be has me broken down internally. smithereens your naked eye could never detect. i was once whole.

been having a ridiculous self-debate over when to use "will" vs "would" and "can" vs "could". as in that when i speak i instinctively use one over the other (i.e. what would make you happy over what will make you happy) but then when i think about it and try to reason with myself and explain why i choose one over the other i just don't know and they seem perfectly fine to me. this scares me. i think being sound grammatically takes precedence over strong vocabulary. but meh. i possess neither.

on a separate sheet, how crap must it feel to be stuck on one side with someone you love dead on the other. and the fact that you're not sure how soon you get to return and all the administrative shit that's holding you back from doing one last thing for him [his funeral]. you would've only been back to see him cremated, him being no longer recognisable, only a pile of ashes you couldn't tell apart from sand. i don't think i would've had the strength to stay this sane, go about my daily operations and pretending to be okay. i wish you'd cry your heart out, they say crying is therapeutic.

SUPERFICIALITY

2011-02-21T23:03:00.003+08:00

you obviously don't understand how hard it is to live with such inadequacies. it's not easy constantly being reminded of how ugly you are and in these words society throws at you, "revolting", "empty", "lousy", you know that therein lies only the truth. your weakness heavily outweighs your strengths, if any at all. there is no safety net. you feel like if you fall once, you will fall deep. your existence will not be remembered because it was never significant.

i am too tired to string my words into coherent sentences or attempt to think like someone of perfect normalcy should; because i was never whole like one should be.

HOLD YOUR TONGUE

2011-02-21T16:31:00.005+08:00

comprehension came only moments after. realisation finally dawned upon me that he was gone.

and when i processed all of this, a wave of gargantuan sympathy washed through me. an inexplicable sense of sorriness i hadn't felt before. i hesitated asking anything. there's no way of showing i care; what is the propriety of asking if she's okay?

i'd bet he was thinking of her - where was she?

she won't be back until, at best, wednesday.

guilt must be brewing in her presently hollow heart.

the dread that she cannot be there sooner

or that she hadn't even been with him

i don't know how he died.

but i know he's gone,

and she'll never hear his voice again,

or his silly jokes she invariably enjoys.

i wonder if she'll ever be happy again.

STILL MY HEART

2011-02-21T00:03:00.003+08:00

i'm glad i can listen to this song without feeling like i should kill myself. it's beautiful and i'm grateful i heard it. i feel like i've grown and i'm stronger now,

albeit

weaker than you

DUSTLAND FAIRYTALE BEGINNINGS

2011-02-20T19:30:00.008+08:00

ZIP IT IN AND SHUT IT OUT

2011-02-14T00:40:00.002+08:00

and as she went on babbling about how her insecurities will eventually tear her apart and how she was undeserving of his love of which she could never in eternity repay him, how her constant need to feel appreciated was more than he could ever tolerate and how her self-hate and imperfections were at best beastly, he whispered in her presently flushed right ear, the words swallowed one by one as they travelled down the narrow canal from the outside to her inside. "brevity has never been your thing. just say you want me to protect you." he kissed her, kept her quiet and told her he loved her.

TAKE THIS HEART AND MAKE IT YOURS

2011-02-13T19:04:00.003+08:00

i braided words on my tongue – they failed. the wicked and wretched stench of guilt wholly consumed my minute being. i was stolen. headed toward the spiraling horizon of an empty space, the wind came down upon us with no warning, tousling my hair while i stood still, expecting something to drag me out of my skin and carry me to a place i hadn't known. the entirety of me swayed with the wispy grass. the rehearsed words were now broken; murdered. senseless words fell upon my tongue and i managed only mindless nothings. gone was my mind, my soul, my words. i was hollow. there was nothing left in me, just the singular thought that fervently raced through my addled mind and it repeated itself.

“i’m sorry for wasting your time.”

LET IT FALL

2011-02-10T23:11:00.003+08:00

revolution gravitation centralisation all towards the middle ground i have not found. everything is rocky and unstable, messy and unclear. i will not be involved with you. i will find my bearing and none of me shall be implicated in that tangle of yours. i will be alone.

and happy, as i wish for you to be.

JADED

2011-02-09T20:23:00.004+08:00

i don't know how you know what love is, i don't even know what it is; what it should be, what it should feel like, what it should appear to be. but looking at you makes me feel like you don't know what it really is. it seems like you're confused. i feel it should be more than the loose 'i love you's, deeper in feeling than in speak i suppose, but i can't say anything. you're happier than i could possibly have ever been

because i have not loved and been loved. i have not lived.

LOVER I DON'T HAVE TO LOVE

2011-02-06T17:42:00.002+08:00

i just read two very secret pieces of writing i probably should not have read because they're not mine to read. with every line i read a new thought popped up in my head and i felt i had to write it down but now that i'm here... the words come to nothing. feel like just jotting them down in point form and leaving it as that but i think it deserves more than just a skimpy piece with no reflection.

i don't think it's impetuous to say that i'm ruled by cynicism. i hadn't realised earlier than i read the writings that maybe it is possible for two people to just love each other with all they have, however much or however little (ha, the cynic in me will always rise above all else). how sure are they that despite their love for each other that the spark will never end? that no distractions can potentially falter the stability in their relationship or waver their trust in each other? and more surely, how do they know that their efforts/adventures/faith together will fill the crevices? what if things all boil down to nothing and debunks their belief that whatever they have in them will be strongest binder, the glue to mend the cracks? wouldn't that just invariably shatter and crumble all they held dear to them? the fact glaring in their faces that everything was unimportant because nothing in this world can save themselves?

... i took a while to come back and continue this post because i didn't know what i was writing. i was going to delete it and forget i had ever read those writings and written what i'd thought. bury my thoughts and get lost. i read this post again as i always do before i publish them and the only clear thought i formed was that this was written in an overtly befuddled state of mind. it is, in its entirety, extremely convoluted. and at the end of it all, i don't know what my point is. the voice in my head that formed sentences before i actually got down to writing this was sure of one thing, but i have forgotten what it was. i will lose my way along this arduous and tumultuous journey but i will ultimately find the right path, the path paved specifically for me.

i guess i write this all in the name of fear; fear of being forgotten, fear of being disregarded, fear of being a failure.

VICTORY IS MINE TO CALL

2011-02-06T02:28:00.004+08:00

i feel the unspoken expectations resting on my shoulders that this is mine to ace, mine to make the most of. the insistent voice in the back of my head repeating the need to do only my very best because i need to and it's the only thing i have. i don't know what this is, this feeling i am experiencing; like i'm ready. ready for war, ready to conquer all the odds and ready to emerge victorious in the end.

MINE MINE MINE

2011-02-05T00:22:00.005+08:00

suddenly i felt a disconnection between my body and my soul, the dissociation inexplicably calming. my spirit watched idly by while my body mindlessly went on with its operations. i felt the weight of my book pressed against my ribs - i read and read, the same page over and over, but my mind was not receptive. the words were simple yet incomprehensible. i quickly fell into a state of minded unconsciousness; i recalled my brother driving out to get ice cream, sitting alongside him was me in the front seat. fragments, images, flashes. getting lost in the midst of that journey, cruising along unfamiliar streets while we let loose and broke the chains, surrendering to the idea of freedom. no barricades holding us back. no longer did we feel constricted in our shells.

we screamed at strangers and finally we felt free tonight.

I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK

2011-02-04T21:09:00.003+08:00

my new blackout curtains now block all the sunlight from streaming into my room, only allowing a few rays to seep through the windows via the margin between the ceiling and the top of the curtain. it feels nice being in the dark, unaware of the time of the day because it doesn't matter. it is easier for me to sleep now, although part of that might be because i tire more readily now.

the dark blinds my vision. it curbs the unnecessary and targets the essentials. i have to myself figure out who my principal people are and where my primary focus should lie. because in the dark, nothing can hinder my judgment and i only have myself to depend on.

BEGINNING'S END

2011-02-04T00:54:00.002+08:00

read my 2 previous posts and they started vaguely similarly. "feel like..." i still feel something, so although i hate repeated sentence structures i will begin by saying that i feel like i've been writing too much about my feelings on the interweb, things that maybe only i/family/close friends should know because it's too personal; i'm not sure if this is the way it should work. seems like it makes me very vulnerable because people are aware of my self doubt self hate and severe lack of self esteem.

but i don't really care about that, i'm glad to say that there's finally something where other's opinions about me don't affect me significantly. i update this space to keep track of my days, my emotions, my progress and i don't seek the approval of those who read this. i started this as a channel to write, as an official outlet where everything is stored in an organised manner (without considerable effort, if any at all) so when i read my posts from day to day i learn a bit more about myself and how i grow, through the reflections of my documentation. so i can better understand myself, my body, my mind.

this is for myself and not for anyone.

edit: before my shower i recalled that no, i didn't start this blog "as a channel to write" but rather a space that was prompted when i received my christmas gift, my lego camera, which i do not presently have. how quickly i have lost sight of things; maybe things i thought were true were just images sketched in my mind, black and white with no colour to fill the spaces in between, happenings i willed myself into believing, and unimportant considerations, you included. i also thought about the words i chose to write this post. i read it again and i remember someone asking me if i write what i write because i want to impress (which i thought was contradictory, i don't talk about my successes/achievements because i have none to flaunt so i didn't understand what she meant. and also, i don't think my posts about dread toward myself are particularly worthy of feeling proud of?) feel like writing for me now isn't as painful because i've come to terms with the devils in my mind. it is significantly more cathartic and is now more of a need than a want, compared to how i used to wish i could write, spend days drafting a post only to delete it because i thought my words were ugly.

AVIATRIX APOCALYPSE

2011-02-03T22:08:00.005+08:00

chinese new year, sick, my eyes my throat my stomach my nose all hurt but most of all my heart hurts. the subtle ache that ripples through this invalidity. feel like life is so much more than appearances. something happened during lunch and it was all generally unsettling. mom said something about "don't allow your emotions to run to such an extent, it's a very fine line to draw between [something irrelevant because i don't remember it]". like she meant more than what she said, just that she could never draw the words. and then a flashback played in my mind, i remember nic texting me a while ago, asking me if she should go ahead and sign up for her dance class since her friends backed out last minute and i replied instinctively, as if it were the most natural thing to do with no need for consideration, sure, why not, don't allow what you want/your happiness be dependent on [what] others [do].

i saw her sitting a seat away, between my father and my grandfather and felt the need to let her know i love her, because i do, and it hurt to see her struggle with accepting herself for who she is. that she shouldn't be so demanding and asking so much of herself because there's a limit that everyone can take, but i guessed as much there was this uncontainable surge within her that she needed to flush out through tears or whatever devises she had so she would eventually and gradually feel better. i told her that what she/others say think or do is inconsequential as long as she knows she's worked hard for what she wants.

then i thought, what the hell am i saying,

i do just the same thing.

i appear normal,

i act normal,

but under this skin i'm suffocating,

it's stifling.

and at that moment i felt like shit,

i should rip my skin apart, rot and cease to exist altogether.

WHITE TREE FINE ART

2011-02-03T01:27:00.003+08:00

feel like i'm sinking in my own boat of doubt. that nothing else can overcome myself, this vapid excuse of being existent. i hate any form of interaction, mingling and sharing. i'm unclear what my priorities are and i don't know how things are supposed to work. all day i think about writing, capturing the essence of what i feel. for everything i only feel half-hearted things, i'm uncommitted because of my lack of clarity and knowledge. what do i need to be complete? i come up with sentences, one or two at best, but nothing is ever coherent. my thoughts are disjointed, they jump from lanes to lanes, unparallel and out of line. i hate smiling, fake for the camera, i hate pretending i'm ok, that i'll be all right. i hate showing who i am because i'm unsure. how can i expect people to like me when i don't even like myself? (and then somewhere along the line i think about how only attractive people get the attention, regardless of people saying that inner beauty ultimately outshines outer beauty. this deserves a proper post i feel, will get round to it sometime soon but for now, damn these hypocrites and those who perpetuate/edify/uphold the social hierachy, and also those who try to penetrate the inner circle of "cool")

and then a train takes me to another station and i think about how i will always be envious of those who can disregard the opinions others have of them, those who can walk around in their oddball dressing, wearing their queer personalities with nothing to hide or run away from. others are insignificant and their thoughts are inconsequential.

i'm coughing and there's no phlegm, feel like i should spit (for the lack of a better word) something out, get it out of my system. i would go on but i'm tired of being unable to find the words to describe what i feel. besides, i'm feeling somewhat merry so i'll stop here.

DANGER WILL FOLLOW ME NOW

2011-02-01T00:11:00.001+08:00

"what do you want?"

"i ... i don't know"

"LIFE IS A HANDFUL OF SHORT STORIES PRETENDING TO BE A NOVEL"

2011-01-30T21:35:00.003+08:00

currently reading Howards End is on the Landing by Susan Hill. my sister bought me these two books and i haven't gotten down to posting about them and formally thanking her for her thoughtfulness. basically she read my post about being depressed over books i haven't had the chance to read or found the time to, and about truman capote being a great writer. she headed down to the bookstore behind her office and picked up these two books, of which Susan Hill's one is a documentation of her one year spent reading/re-reading all the books she never got to read.

"Early one autumn afternoon in the pursuit of an elusive book on her shelves, Susan Hill encountered dozens of others that she had never read, or forgotten she owned, or wanted to read for a second time. The discovery inspired her to embark on a year-long voyage through her books, in order to get to know her own collection again."

so in congruence with what i felt and i'm guessing my sister thought it was apt so she bought it for me :-) i reckon she felt that through reading this book i could vicariously enjoy susan hill's pleasure of going through all the books on her shelves and i'm very glad she bought the book for me. i'm only 18 pages through though, i've been feeling a bit of a mess, i haven't been able to concentrate on the words and the sentences, my mind wanders off and it's too tiring to be unfocused so i gave up. will start proper tonight now that it feels i've obliterated all the negativity in my mind.

tonight i am happy, the rain is falling and the splash of water from the cars gliding along the road outside can be heard. i'm in bed, snugly tucked under my pink sheets with a book propped on my knees.

CINDERELLA STOLE THE DRESS

2011-01-30T20:31:00.003+08:00

my mind is empty, blank. i'm not accustomed to this peace within myself. i no longer feel dread, hatred and disgust.

this is pleasant.

VACANT MIND, FOOLISH HEART

2011-01-30T16:14:00.008+08:00

"Love
like anybody else, comes to those who
wait actively
and leave their windows open"

Judy Grahn

my internet has been down and there're about ... 8 pieces of writing in my drafts. if it were yesterday i would have had the strength to go ahead and post whatever my mind churned out because i was feeling terrible and needed to do something ridiculous; spill all my feelings on the web, let the arrogance in your mind brew and overflow because you're stronger than me. but not today. i am aware and i will be okay.

i will delete them all.

I watched the clijsters li na match yesterday and i felt like the leader of the match at any point vacillated between periods when the absence of clijsters overwhelmed her as a player and her presence (clijsters) overwhelmed li na's absence. so to me the outcome of the match was dependent on how clijsters' fared and not how well li na played. feel like i don't make sense. i never do. i hope murray wins, he deserves it.

LET THE CAPTAIN SAY GOODBYE

2011-01-25T09:26:00.003+08:00

I’ve been spending a lot more of my time on Microsoft word and reading because the internet sucks and mio refuses to show what I pay for so I can’t watch Australian open. I’m half glad for that though, that I’m not whiling my time doing unproductive things. I feel like I haven’t been reading enough and if I’ve been reading at all I feel like I haven’t because I obviously am not reading critically enough. Last night as I lay in bed I thought of how meaningless life has been since I started holidays last year, if I’m not writing or reading I would inexplicably feel like I’m wasting my time. And when I saw all the books by my bedside that I have half completed or not touched at all I began to realize that there was so much about/in/around the world I don’t know that I needed to know. The thought of being ignorant was just annoying me so I had a sudden wave of thought that I HAD to read as much as I could, to fill my mind with words that I failed to find, flood it with words strung into sentences I was unable to form, to bombard it with information I hadn’t known so I hadn’t the time to think about my inadequacies.

Yesterday I went to prologue at ion and picked a few books but had to ditch them all (NOT EVEN ONE) and that depressed me greatly. I’ve never actually had time to just freely lurk bookstores without having to rush off to meet someone somewhere because their time is more precious than my pleasure in smelling new books and flipping through the freshly printed pages like I had no care in the world. My book-shopping habits always have not been to my liking. i fancy the idea of having time to roam the bookstore, pick up book by book, read the blurb and there and then decide if I’d like to get it. but unsurprisingly time never permits that so I end up having to do my research on what books I want and when I eventually reach the bookstore I grab my books and go. That saddens me because I believe that taking your time in the bookstore just relaxing and soaking yourself in the overwhelming power of words all around you is so therapeutic but I just haven’t had the opportunity to enjoy all that L and I had such a pleasant encounter at prologue yesterday, i was just looking around as I always do, holding my book and this lady seemed to be looking at me so I looked up and she said “the book you’ve got there is a brilliant book, Truman capote writes extremely well. I hope you enjoy the book” that just made me incredibly happy, the fact that books bring people from all walks of life together, the connection that strangers share is so special. I felt like I’d known her for the longest time and I felt so at ease, and if only time had allowed for it (upon mother’s beckoning I had to leave) I would have asked her whose books she enjoyed and what her favourite books were as I would have told her about mine.

Books are special. I love books.

GRANT MY LAST REQUEST

2011-01-24T16:22:00.001+08:00

I remember how I used to sit in front of the auditorium eating my one dollar chawanmushi, how I insistently used to hit against the wall that surrounds the auditorium, the marks of the tennis balls plastered across the white paint, and how the janitor relentlessly begged me not to do so. How he demonstrated his ability to do push-ups, hundred at that, and how he seemingly mocked at my inability to match him, not even one. How I’d greet him and how he’d show me his bare-toothed smile, pleased that someone around the school acknowledges his work at doing his best to keep the area clean and how he’d hide under the stairs, his secret hideout that I often intruded when the tennis ball was beyond my reach. As much as he wouldn’t have known, I appreciated his presence. I’d walked the same path into the quadrangle for four years and as I walked I’d constantly wish he’d be there, cleaning up, sweeping the floor, having his coffee or whatever he’d have been able to do, so I could greet him in Chinese to wish him a good day, to see his bare-toothed smile and how his hat, glasses, oversized shirt were all over the place, apparently unkempt but fresh altogether, as a whole that I never was.

"THE BIRTH OF FEELING": THE HISTORY OF LOVE BY NICOLE KRAUSS

2011-01-23T14:41:00.001+08:00

Feelings are not as old as time. Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornness was felt for the first time, it started a chain reaction, creating the feeling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation and loneliness on the other. It might have been a certain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy; a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Or maybe it was the body of a girl named Alma. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn’t born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time had passed, and someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.

It’s also true that sometimes people felt things and, because there was no word for them, they went unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it– just to name– must have been like trying to catch something invisible.

(Then again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion.)

Having begun to feel, people’s desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People became addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It’s possible that this is how art was born. New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness: The eternal disappointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve; the fear of dying.

Even now, all possible feelings do not yet exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination. From time to time, when a piece of music no one has ever written, or a painting no one has ever painted, or something else impossible to predict, fathom, or yet describe takes place, a new feeling enters the world. And then, for the millionth time in the history of feeling, the heart surges, and absorbs the impact.

POCKET YOUR PICK

2011-01-22T11:55:00.002+08:00

I hate the noise enveloping me, it’s unhealthy and I need to learn to walk away from it all because it is insignificant. Nobody understands but that’s not important; it is as unimportant as my feelings are to each and every one of you.

There’s only one band I need to see live – more so than I need to see the killers and I never thought I’d say this, that there would be a band I would love more than the killers; music by the killers has kept me sane since I was 12. But now as everyone moves on I need to move on too, in the respect of maturity, to something that speaks to me more personally and despite my undying respect for the brilliant music the killers has offered me for the past 4 years, I recognise the need to let go of the past. The killers, in spite of their gorgeous guitar riffs, their stunningly beautiful lyrics, their heart-stirring beats, will never be able to convey the feelings of pain I perpetually feel. And it is also because of this that they have been my favourite band. Walking to novena in the afternoon, I listened to my recently put together playlist which I named Apocalypse. This playlist consists of songs so unlike what I’m normally used to, with lyrics that actually make sense and not typically the ridiculous “mama was queen of the mambo papa was king of the bongo”. I’ve always appreciated lyrics that make sense but I continually avoid listening to them because they’re simultaneously the most painful songs to listen to. They so aptly describe what I dare not feel. I escape these songs because they are most in congruence with the whirlwind in my mind, but in that regard they’re the most well-written songs in my opinion. To have the courage to seek such words that depict emotions of pain agony neglect hurt is admirable, but to be able to string them into intelligible sentences, to dare to discuss such painful feelings is something I wish to emulate.

Courage.

HOW DO YOU DIE

2011-01-21T20:20:00.004+08:00

it's just moments like this when there's nothing specifically that's making you feel inadequate, it's when you have quiet moments to yourself and you think about nothing. the mere fact that you have nothing to think about, no plans about your future because you have nothing to do with your life. you come upon situations when you realise that no matter how hard you try you'll never make it, it will never be enough and it will never suffice.

and i don't have the capacity in me to step out of my shell, to be amazing. i wasn't born with the qualities to be outstanding. i'll only be ... myself, nothing more than average.

HOLDING ON TO THE LIE

2011-01-21T13:18:00.002+08:00

plunging quickly into a deep well of decadence i really need to muster the courage to dig deep and write about what is bothering me.

I MISS YOU

there i said it, i finally squeezed it out of my system.

i don't feel any better, probably because i don't have the strength or urge to discuss it in detail which is what i really need, compared to just touching on the issue and leaving things at that.

been listening to a particular song on repeat; its lyrics encapsulate what i feel, but never really explores what's beyond that shell that's shielding the lyricist, much like what i've been doing, so afraid of venturing into unchartered waters, staying within the limits of my mind's capability to accept what i really feel for fear i will lose myself in the technicolour swirl of memories when things were actually once comprehensible and even in the mildest sense, all right. i don't have it in me to accept the fact that you are fine without me and i'm not without you.

speaking in such disjointed and incoherent sentences, convoluted up to the point it's getting messier than before. when will the feelings of never being enough for anyone, even myself, ebb away and dissolve? it's been too long

MILK CRISIS

2011-01-21T00:08:00.000+08:00

There’s something pent up in me that I know is not of normalcy that I cannot pinpoint, cannot emote, cannot express and cannot write about. I feel the need to expel this in a written form, as a formal way of cathartic release but what am I to write about if I’m unsure about what precisely fills this nagging invisible baggage that has incessantly been burdening me? I can’t continue on just vaguely acknowledging that there’s something wrong with me, I need to recognise it as a problem and address the issue. In essence I am lacking what is most critical to me; I need clarity – I haven’t felt that in a long time and by the look of things, it seems like it will be a privilege that will continually elude me. at the back of my mind, however, i know it’s you I’m missing, that maybe things wouldn’t be this hazy and that my judgments wouldn’t perpetually be clouded by thoughts of you.

When will this tangled mind embrace the fact that maybe you’re not the one whom I should be bothered with, that maybe you’re not worth my recurring feelings of inadequacy, that maybe I won’t be able to myself unravel all the protective covers with pieces of you weaved delicately here and there? most importantly, when will I accept that you’re not the best for me and that maybe, just maybe, someone better will come along and detonate all the memories linking me back to you?

watching junior masterchef and wondering if they learnt what they know from cooking mama. for the record, even after writing this I feel no better, I guess i just have to live with my problematic mind and deal with forever feeling like shit, second-guessing myself and my choices.

POOTIN' WITH A TOOTIN'

2011-01-18T19:57:00.003+08:00

I've been lazy with everything lately - eating, reading, tennis (point to argue is that i've always been lazy), writing, sleeping, tweeting, getting a life

(...)

YOUR POOPIE WILL SAVE YOU

2011-01-16T18:47:00.004+08:00

FRESHNESS BURGER chomp chomp chomp

I MISS MY LEGO CAMERA :-(

THIS POST IS SO TRUNCATED

ALL IN ALL:

I HAVE SCHOOL ONLY ON MONDAY AND WEDNESDAY THIS WEEK
BUT I HAVE TO GO BACK ON TUESDAY FOR TRAINING
FML FOR THAT
I BORROWED 4 BOOKS FROM MY UNCLE YESTERDAY
PSYCHED ABOUT THAT
4 BOOKS BEING:
BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S, THE COMPLETE STORIES AND POEMS OF LEWIS CARROLL (♥), THE GREAT GATSBY AND BIRTHDAY LETTERS
TED HUGHES' TWO WIVES, OF WHOM THE FIRST WAS SYLVIA PLATH, BOTH COMMITTED SUICIDE BY PLACING THEIR HEADS IN AN OVEN
HE LOVED PLATH FOR YEARS AFTER HER DEATH, WITH ALL BUT TWO POEMS IN BIRTHDAY LETTERS WRITTEN IN MEMORY OF HER
READING ALICE IN WONDERLAND IS SO CATHARTIC

WHERE'RE YOU GONNA GO WITH A HEAD THAT EMPTY?

2011-01-14T14:21:00.003+08:00

i never know what i want, never know what i think, never know what i feel. it's like my soul has been transplanted to something else, perhaps to a body which is more capable and viable for more useful things than my own. or maybe my hollowness is the end result of my excessively imperfect, defect-ridden shell that my mind chooses not to feel because the unfathomable amount of hatred my disgusting exterior could bring is so detrimental.

so for the most part i feel nothing or i feel half hearted things. i unconsciously choose to never feel anything solid or concrete, for fear that it will only lose more of my nothingness, cementing my status as only being existent.

♧♦ helter skelter said the heart, rest in peace said the mind ♣♡

2011-01-14T00:16:00.003+08:00

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL WAS TOUGH.

SECOND DAY WAS BETTER.

LET'S HOPE IT KEEPS GETTING BETTER AND BETTER THOUGH I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE THE STRESS WHEN LESSONS START AND THE STRESS WON'T FALL SHORT OF MY EXPECTATIONS, I'M SURE IT'LL ONLY EXCEED WHAT I EXPECT.

WE DIE BY DEATH

good night

pooptacular sparkles! x

"THE MAN WHO DIES WITH THE MOST TOYS WINS”

2011-01-11T13:16:00.003+08:00

I’m shaking, trembling, quaking. I’m so afraid, afraid of something that I cannot pinpoint. I don’t deserve you – you’re the best thing that has happened to me and I’ve done nothing but take you for granted. Your unconditional love has invariably made me ashamed of myself. I wish for you to deserve better, I wish for myself to be able to give you more, or at the very least, what you rightly deserve.

But ultimately I know for a fact, that I myself, my best, my full percent of effort, will never enough to reciprocate your majestic and undying care that you have unfailingly showered me with.

ADVENTURES AT PEEK!

2011-01-09T21:08:00.004+08:00

http://peek-ture.com/

so i went to a camera shop today without taking any shots cos i'm rad and groovy like that but not as much as the shop.

i also finished mao's last dancer - i didn't particularly enjoy the ending although it's a happy ending. it seemed so surreal that he managed to overcome everything that communism and mao and the chinese government threw at him. the book started out as if their lives would end very tragically with 7 of the brothers working on the farm forever but things turned out too good, way exceeding their expectations and what i had imagined. it's not that i wish for them to have unhappy endings in their lives but the book paved your thoughts right from the start to think that things would eventually end up bad for them. IDK I'M SO INCOHERENT HAHA.

ok i think i get it, i felt cheated.

SUGARPLUM FAIRY

2011-01-08T20:30:00.007+08:00

✿❀ YOUR BELLY BUTTON RULES MY WORLD ✿❀

WHO TURNED THE ☀ UPSIDE DOWN?

2011-01-06T13:45:00.005+08:00

compelling read - i was tossing and turning in bed at 4am after having been in bed since 130 so i started on this book. chapter 5 freaked me out hahaha essentially it's about the grandmother's leaking grave and how she entered her daughter-in-law's dreams, gave her a fever which receded after she took care of the leaking grave and how the test of the egg which involved placing the egg between a pair of chopsticks with the pointed end down. apparently, if the egg stands up on the pointed end by itself, it meant that it was indeed the grandmother's spirit who had entered the dream and called for help. It actually did stand up.

reading that in the middle of the night, pitch dark with everyone asleep was scary to say the least, i closed my book and shuffled back to my room and didn't manage to sleep till about 6. i don't reckon it was the book's fault though, i stopped thinking about it after a while.. i just have trouble sleeping.

POGUE

2011-01-05T17:04:00.005+08:00

currently reading

picked up 3 books at borders that day: this, great expectations and mao's last dancer. this book isn't a book i would have imagined myself reading. in fact, i bought the book with no intentions of finishing it, but of course i would like to. reason for reading this is simple, i'd like to take CSE as an A level subject so reading this would give me an idea of whether or not i really am interested in it because as of now/before starting this book the only thing i knew about china was that the number of bricks used to build the great wall can encircle the earth's equator five times. i wouldn't say i thoroughly enjoy reading this book but neither would i say i am tortured. it is pretty interesting actually, only the fact that THE SENTENCES ARE SO LONG AND COMPLICATED, FILLED WITH TERMS/JARGON I DON'T UNDERSTAND I FEEL SO DUMB READING IT AND IT'S SO DRAINING I HAVE TO READ EACH SENTENCE AT LEAST 3 TIMES TO UNDERSTAND IT hence explaining why i'm only at page 40 after 3 days.

that is all besides the fact that i'm a slob and wasting my time on the internet/tele WHEN I SHOULD BE READING MY BOOK UGH

☃ POOTIFOOL ☃

2011-01-04T23:58:00.004+08:00

TODAY WAS A POO KIND OF DAY

MORONS ARE OMNIPRESENT

2011-01-03T03:48:00.000+08:00

choppy paragraphing i need to expel this

perverse fortuitous happenings have left me in bewilderment. the nativity of a possible abyss of limbo has vacillatingly liberated and vindicated my boggled mind - the entirety of my existence i have yet to figure, my vocation, my purpose. it must be something tangible, not typically the cookie-cutter kind but something that i might have even the vaguest idea about which will at least lead me somewhere, anywhere. but this aimlessness is the gravity that has only pulled me down into what i fear might pull me down forever, my very own quicksand.

on a separate page i'm burgeoning with thoughts about you. the apparitions residing in the chambers of my wasted heart sporadically whisper some sick tumultuous vituperation, and other times, more subdued and possibly more sensible thoughts creaking from the corners of my rusted mind remind me solely of how our attitudes toward each other then were harnessed through sheer time and effort that both of us vested and our attitudes toward each other now are, regrettably, a result of lack of time and effort.

my eyes still capture a photograph of your benign smile, though its sketch and the unclear lines marking the outline of your face unconsciously deliquesces overtime. i was gratuitously, even in the slightest sense, happy.

but i have figured that with the advancement of time and all conventionally good things, retardation of something else will simultaneously occur, whether we like it or not. that was then, when we were living in yesteryear's clothes. but we're living in now, forward and out of yesterday.

on a totally disjointed note my xenophobic side is apprehensive about entering a completely foreign institute, an alma mater whose modus operandi i have no idea of. and again on a completely new slate, i would like to discuss the topics of anthropology and psychosomatics with somebody.

i've done nothing this holidays that is mildly necessary to call my brain a brain.

good night

⋆☞⋆I'M ICY AND PEACHY ⋆☞⋆

2011-01-02T17:46:00.002+08:00

BOOKS I READ IN DECEMBER

NORWEGIAN WOOD
YAKUZA MOON
FIGHT CLUB
THE BELL JAR
VIRGIN SUICIDES
FOR ONE MORE DAY

BOOKS I'D LIKE FOR JANUARY

GREAT EXPECTATIONS
THE PERKS OF BEING A WALLFLOWER
AFTER DARK
PROZAC NATION
GIRL, INTERRUPTED

HAVEN'T TOUCHED A BOOK SINCE HONG KONG, OFF TO FINALLY START SPUTNIK SWEETHEART

HAPPINESS IS IN THE EYES OF A BISCUIT CRUMB

2011-01-01T16:02:00.001+08:00

DECADES COME AND GO

2010-12-31T13:16:00.008+08:00

2010 has been amazing to me - with sooooo much luck i got to play JFC, i got grades i'd never have dreamt of and a birthday coupled with only the best company. i'd never forget this magical birthday which is most undeniably the best of all 16. New year's eve and my brother sits on me while i nap, ruins my nails and offers to paint my unpainted right hand. such a lovely brother who'd do the silliest of things to please his little sister and the cutest sister who texted me at midnight so she could be the first to wish me happy belated birthday, a willing mother who'd do anything to make me happy and got me 16 presents as promised, an incredible father who walked around looking for the bag i said i wanted. oh yeah, and all of them, especially my brother and mother went EVERYWHERE looking for spongebob lego just because i mentioned i wanted it.

these are just happenings that occurred within the past 2 days. where do i begin describing the unfathomable amount of love they've showered me for the past 16 years?

I FIGHT BANANA TREES TO TRAIN MY SHIN

2010-12-30T23:22:00.006+08:00

DINNER AT TRIPLE THREE

AND TOO MANY PRESENTS IF I MAY SAY SO MYSELF

MOST DAYS I POO POOP BUT TODAY I POO GLITTER

2010-12-30T03:07:00.000+08:00

MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT FROM MY SISTER

I GROW STARS IN MY BACKYARD

2010-12-29T21:47:00.000+08:00

MY SUPER RAD CAM HAS TAKEN ALL THE PHOTOS UP HERE.

ROCKS AND DAGGERS

2010-12-28T18:10:00.001+08:00

which sentient being with even the slightest margin of having a lucid mind that thinks with minimal clarity would speak words so cutting and unnecessary?

only of course, your mind had already ceased to exist.

mindlessness washes over me as i step out of my skin, shielding myself from all that you hurl at me. i don’t deserve this, i don’t deserve your senseless screamings, ostensibly displaying your now neurotic mind. i wouldn’t have to deal with this if you meant nothing to me. i amble through that mess of your mind hoping to find an answer, the spark to all these puerile fits of anger. i don’t blame you. none of us had wanted this - nobody would have wished for this to happen.

unless you did. to abate all the whirls of inadequacy and hopelessness you felt as you spiralled down into the black horizon of nothing.

*why must cheesecake be so sinful*

THE BLACKEST KIND OF BLASPHEMIES

2010-12-26T17:47:00.000+08:00

Christmas, not X'mas

2010-12-25T21:42:00.001+08:00

CHRISTMAS IS CALLED CHRISTMAS AND NOT X'MAS FOR A REASON