it's been a while.
and it's that time of the year. where job apps go afluttering in cyber space and I pull hair out by the chunks and replace them back in time for the damned interviews.
and it's been a while
but it's back again.
this time, undoing by someone else.
I seem to have this magnet attraction field for undoing of self.
and I clearly excel at it, by not even trying.
and it's worse this time,
because it's clear as crystal where the road leads and I know I'm never ever be in the running.
In fact, I'm running parallel to the path and there is no foliage blocking my view at all, I can see it oh-so-clearly so I know all along what I was getting myself unconsciously and consciously into. But I dove right inside, putting on hold my self and dignity, clutching a little too desperately at every gesture and word. With every touch directed my way, it gives me the strength to run a little faster, jump a little higher at the hurdles that mount.
and then just at the running step, I stumble or at the height of my perfect jump, my legs give out, at the sight of the console lighting up with news from aboard.
and I find myself running parallel again, the chasm engulfing the gains I fooled myself that I made.
and my pump aches.
and so, I'm going to feign nonchalance, even indifference to the point of looking the other way.
and I'm going to draw slowly back to my self and retain whatever is left of my dignity.
I need to breathe.
I need to run away.
but it's hard.
like I said, I see the browness of the irises only.
I need to see the wickedness.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
of Z fiction and brains
So just as I thought there was nothing but YA romance novellas on Amazon, I stumbled upon a little gem of a Z fiction. and yes, Z is a new-fangled lit lingo for zombie fic. It took me a couple mouthfuls of green tea to figure that one out as I was browsing through the pages.
and normally, I'm not the morbid/supernatural/paranoid sort that reads Z lit and prepares a apocalyptic zombie survival kit in my basement with army rations to make any general proud.
but Apocalyse Z: the Beginning to the End by Manel Loureiro sucked me in and I'm only 70% through, according to my Kindle.
Z lit has never pulled in into its grip on chaos and gore, just because I always thought that when you've read one, you've pretty much read all of them.
hoards of zombies shuffling about a dead town looking for brains, a couple of survivors running around like headless chickens trying to find rations and always always always the hope for humanity's survival.
but one thing quite cool about this book is the narrator is telling his story through blogposts and later on, when the servers shut down, his journal. it's quite compelling in the sense that the narrator not only gets to describe the daily occurrences, but also gets to add in his two cents' worth in hindsight. and it reads so much like what a blogger/journaler will write: the sometimes 2-sentences post about being so sick and horrified about the day's incidents that he could not even bear to put pen to paper, and I literally feel that tinge of nausea in my tummy for him, and want but do not want to at the same time to turn the page to see what made him that speechless.
and when he described the reanimation of a dead comrade's corpse right in front of him, I actually curled right into myself and tried to read the lines through scrunched-up eyes. the narrator described the morbid fascination of the entire sequence, the feeling of seeing something so gruesome and unholy but unable to look somewhere else. and I felt like I was seeing things right through his eyes.
and the book is set in Spain and was translated from a Spanish piece of work. the writing does read a little chunky but staccato, some of its meaning could have been lost in translation. but that sense of stiltedness somehow makes this work of fiction even more realistic, brings the whole survival in an apocalyptic wasteland to a whole new different light. people running for their lives don't spend much time mincing their words in their journal entries after all. but the descriptions of the desolate setting and decaying humanity were never lost, it still flows beautifully despite the translations.
and the entire time I was reading the book, I was thinking to myself, no way in heck would I be able to survive a zombie invasion, if there ever was one. I can't hunt animals, I can't bust locks, I can't aim and shoot guns, I can't even fix a broken car. the only remotely useful survival skill I have is the medical knowledge. I know how to set bones and clean wounds and give antibiotics, but that's about it.
I'm so going to be zombie fodder when a Z invasion comes along.
and normally, I'm not the morbid/supernatural/paranoid sort that reads Z lit and prepares a apocalyptic zombie survival kit in my basement with army rations to make any general proud.
but Apocalyse Z: the Beginning to the End by Manel Loureiro sucked me in and I'm only 70% through, according to my Kindle.
Z lit has never pulled in into its grip on chaos and gore, just because I always thought that when you've read one, you've pretty much read all of them.
hoards of zombies shuffling about a dead town looking for brains, a couple of survivors running around like headless chickens trying to find rations and always always always the hope for humanity's survival.
but one thing quite cool about this book is the narrator is telling his story through blogposts and later on, when the servers shut down, his journal. it's quite compelling in the sense that the narrator not only gets to describe the daily occurrences, but also gets to add in his two cents' worth in hindsight. and it reads so much like what a blogger/journaler will write: the sometimes 2-sentences post about being so sick and horrified about the day's incidents that he could not even bear to put pen to paper, and I literally feel that tinge of nausea in my tummy for him, and want but do not want to at the same time to turn the page to see what made him that speechless.
and when he described the reanimation of a dead comrade's corpse right in front of him, I actually curled right into myself and tried to read the lines through scrunched-up eyes. the narrator described the morbid fascination of the entire sequence, the feeling of seeing something so gruesome and unholy but unable to look somewhere else. and I felt like I was seeing things right through his eyes.
and the book is set in Spain and was translated from a Spanish piece of work. the writing does read a little chunky but staccato, some of its meaning could have been lost in translation. but that sense of stiltedness somehow makes this work of fiction even more realistic, brings the whole survival in an apocalyptic wasteland to a whole new different light. people running for their lives don't spend much time mincing their words in their journal entries after all. but the descriptions of the desolate setting and decaying humanity were never lost, it still flows beautifully despite the translations.
and the entire time I was reading the book, I was thinking to myself, no way in heck would I be able to survive a zombie invasion, if there ever was one. I can't hunt animals, I can't bust locks, I can't aim and shoot guns, I can't even fix a broken car. the only remotely useful survival skill I have is the medical knowledge. I know how to set bones and clean wounds and give antibiotics, but that's about it.
I'm so going to be zombie fodder when a Z invasion comes along.
Monday, December 03, 2012
Rant post no. 9490193:
Every single time I pop open my Amazon Kindle website to do a little ebooks-internet-window-shopping, the top 20 popular books for the moment are freakin' romance novellas.
70-pages novellas about a heroine with a dark past and a hero with a dark past. A chance meeting. Lots of sexual tension. Girl overcomes past. Guy overcomes past. And everyone lives happily ever after.
Pfffft.
I fully blame stupid Fifty Shades for the stupid, stupid fad.
Because of that mindless drivel, mummy-porn is the 'in' thing now. You want a bestseller, write a trilogy of books ala Fifty Shades, play around with a variety of dark pasts, add in a couple of washboard abs and dark brooding eyes and voila. Instant. Chart. Topper.
It's just like the Twilight trilogy which I thank God that the movie franchise is finally done and dusted and its rabid fangirls can be laid to rest.
When Twilight came out, YA sections in bookstores were chock full of vampire/supernatural fiction and impressionable teen girls gobbled up all the shimmery, sullen vampires that pop media can churn out.
And shame on me to expect to see YA books with wholesome heroines and delicious long descriptions about English moors and such. And if I come across a YA book without any romance in it, it's probably gathering dust at the bottom of the pile, banished to a land where boring books are sent to die.
Long gone are the days where unicorns fetter across pages, young girls dream and grow in 200 pages, a boy and a tiger share a raft and a life experience, and romance was about friendship and respect and sacrifice and restrained ardor and ended with delicious, soul-tingling words from the heart.
Bloody hell, I must be getting too old for this shit.
Every single time I pop open my Amazon Kindle website to do a little ebooks-internet-window-shopping, the top 20 popular books for the moment are freakin' romance novellas.
70-pages novellas about a heroine with a dark past and a hero with a dark past. A chance meeting. Lots of sexual tension. Girl overcomes past. Guy overcomes past. And everyone lives happily ever after.
Pfffft.
I fully blame stupid Fifty Shades for the stupid, stupid fad.
Because of that mindless drivel, mummy-porn is the 'in' thing now. You want a bestseller, write a trilogy of books ala Fifty Shades, play around with a variety of dark pasts, add in a couple of washboard abs and dark brooding eyes and voila. Instant. Chart. Topper.
It's just like the Twilight trilogy which I thank God that the movie franchise is finally done and dusted and its rabid fangirls can be laid to rest.
When Twilight came out, YA sections in bookstores were chock full of vampire/supernatural fiction and impressionable teen girls gobbled up all the shimmery, sullen vampires that pop media can churn out.
And shame on me to expect to see YA books with wholesome heroines and delicious long descriptions about English moors and such. And if I come across a YA book without any romance in it, it's probably gathering dust at the bottom of the pile, banished to a land where boring books are sent to die.
Long gone are the days where unicorns fetter across pages, young girls dream and grow in 200 pages, a boy and a tiger share a raft and a life experience, and romance was about friendship and respect and sacrifice and restrained ardor and ended with delicious, soul-tingling words from the heart.
Bloody hell, I must be getting too old for this shit.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Must be a heck lot of 6 years.
Coz I've been chilling at home and not doing anything for the past 2 weeks and still, I feel like I need a little beach getaway.
I want to snatch up my iPod, beloved Kindle, change into billowy dresses and plonk down in the middle of the sand under a huge umbrella with a coconut drink in my hand and while away the time, reading, daydreaming, snoozing and doing absolutely nothing.
Coz I've been chilling at home and not doing anything for the past 2 weeks and still, I feel like I need a little beach getaway.
I want to snatch up my iPod, beloved Kindle, change into billowy dresses and plonk down in the middle of the sand under a huge umbrella with a coconut drink in my hand and while away the time, reading, daydreaming, snoozing and doing absolutely nothing.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Thanks to my irrational tummy, I've been stuck at home bedbound, watching movies and TV episodes and anything that allows a sense of escapism.
And thanks to this Jap movie that I randomly stumbled upon, I had an epiphany.
There are roughly 2 types of people in the world.
One who seeks love.
The other who gives love.
And when I heard that line, I was like 'holy macaroni, is that why I was so drawn towards that oneliner that I had it permanently inked on my right wrist?!'
I kinda had an inkling but never really said it out loud or acknowledged it.
But here goes:
I don't really go seeking/asking for love.
I'm not that type of person.
I'm the other one.
In almost all my relationships, be it romantic or familial or friendly, I've just been the giver.
And even though countless books and shows and real life experiences have warned me that being the giver all the time is going to eventually leave me a dry sad husk of a human. People are just gonna take and take and take, and I'm going to be bitter and disappointed at what is left for me.
Yet, I still do it.
And it's not because I want a heck lot of karma points.
But rather the people I do it for, I care so much about.
And when I see how happy it makes them, it just makes everything worthwhile.
Sometimes, I just wanna curl up, be a shock/sadness/anger-absorbing sponge and melt all those away from the people I love.
But then, sometimes, it does hurt and sting like a bloody jellyfish when everything goes south.
Just that day, I lost my appetite, my heart sank repeatedly a million times, colours around me are muted, and I don't feel my fingers.
And it took all my willpower to maintain a decent conversation.
And all the while, in my head, I'm thinking, 'Serves you right for trying to cheer someone up at your expense, even though it's a closed and shut case.'
But at the end of the night, I didn't regret it one little bit, even though the wound feels raw from being salted over.
I've always been the one who loves.
Who gives steadily.
Who does it deep, hard and true.
And I don't think I'll ever be disillusioned by reality.
I can never be the seeker in a relationship. It's never been the way I am.
I've always been the giver.
And thanks to this Jap movie that I randomly stumbled upon, I had an epiphany.
There are roughly 2 types of people in the world.
One who seeks love.
The other who gives love.
And when I heard that line, I was like 'holy macaroni, is that why I was so drawn towards that oneliner that I had it permanently inked on my right wrist?!'
I kinda had an inkling but never really said it out loud or acknowledged it.
But here goes:
I don't really go seeking/asking for love.
I'm not that type of person.
I'm the other one.
In almost all my relationships, be it romantic or familial or friendly, I've just been the giver.
And even though countless books and shows and real life experiences have warned me that being the giver all the time is going to eventually leave me a dry sad husk of a human. People are just gonna take and take and take, and I'm going to be bitter and disappointed at what is left for me.
Yet, I still do it.
And it's not because I want a heck lot of karma points.
But rather the people I do it for, I care so much about.
And when I see how happy it makes them, it just makes everything worthwhile.
Sometimes, I just wanna curl up, be a shock/sadness/anger-absorbing sponge and melt all those away from the people I love.
But then, sometimes, it does hurt and sting like a bloody jellyfish when everything goes south.
Just that day, I lost my appetite, my heart sank repeatedly a million times, colours around me are muted, and I don't feel my fingers.
And it took all my willpower to maintain a decent conversation.
And all the while, in my head, I'm thinking, 'Serves you right for trying to cheer someone up at your expense, even though it's a closed and shut case.'
But at the end of the night, I didn't regret it one little bit, even though the wound feels raw from being salted over.
I've always been the one who loves.
Who gives steadily.
Who does it deep, hard and true.
And I don't think I'll ever be disillusioned by reality.
I can never be the seeker in a relationship. It's never been the way I am.
I've always been the giver.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sunday, September 09, 2012
it's been a while since.
since the last post.
since a long nice chat.
since my atrial flutter.
and nothing much has changed.
and i can't deny that the ink on my wrist is a read-between-the-lines one.
and i can't deny the trigger.
and i can't deny the perpetuating factors
things like
the toffee fruit i had today
the song that comes on
the lines of my fave movie.
i wish i was brave-er.
but i'm not.
i'm proud.
and i care too damn much.
i yearn for G-day.
but i can't make up my mind.
what will i do in the end?
since the last post.
since a long nice chat.
since my atrial flutter.
and nothing much has changed.
and i can't deny that the ink on my wrist is a read-between-the-lines one.
and i can't deny the trigger.
and i can't deny the perpetuating factors
things like
the toffee fruit i had today
the song that comes on
the lines of my fave movie.
i wish i was brave-er.
but i'm not.
i'm proud.
and i care too damn much.
i yearn for G-day.
but i can't make up my mind.
what will i do in the end?
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
I study medicine, the epitome of logic and reason.
But I realise that no matter how many times I proclaim that the best thing I could do for myself is avoid kismet, I balk at the very sight.
My tummy drops right down, my feet sticks to the floor.
I chew on my bottom lip.
My palms sweat.
It's hard to think logically, sensibly, reasonably.
But I realise that no matter how many times I proclaim that the best thing I could do for myself is avoid kismet, I balk at the very sight.
My tummy drops right down, my feet sticks to the floor.
I chew on my bottom lip.
My palms sweat.
It's hard to think logically, sensibly, reasonably.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
of trying and egos
One thing that gets on my nerves is not trying at all.
Not even giving a fool's fight for what's worth.
Maybe it's not even worth the energy that you would expend just to ball up your fists.
But hey, don't even think about it if you don't think it's worth it.
Much less talk about it, dream about it.
So, here's the bottom line:
I'm pretty poofed out by the fact that not much effort was put into it (I don't like using the word 'disappointed' in any context but I'm strongly leaning towards it).
The miniscule first step might have satisfied the ego.
You know, come to think of it, it just might have been all an act in the little thrill of satisfying the ego (Too much has been joked about said ego to not be true).
And maybe it's me that was fighting the fool's fight after all (Too much effort has been poured in to justify the end).
So, you know what, I'm going to find another source to say to me, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the words... I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
Not even giving a fool's fight for what's worth.
Maybe it's not even worth the energy that you would expend just to ball up your fists.
But hey, don't even think about it if you don't think it's worth it.
Much less talk about it, dream about it.
So, here's the bottom line:
I'm pretty poofed out by the fact that not much effort was put into it (I don't like using the word 'disappointed' in any context but I'm strongly leaning towards it).
The miniscule first step might have satisfied the ego.
You know, come to think of it, it just might have been all an act in the little thrill of satisfying the ego (Too much has been joked about said ego to not be true).
And maybe it's me that was fighting the fool's fight after all (Too much effort has been poured in to justify the end).
So, you know what, I'm going to find another source to say to me, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the words... I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
of Rose and kismet
I've lost count of how many times I've read Eight Cousins and Rose in Bloom.
And I've lost count of how many times I want that very ending until that very last full stop of the book.
And much as I love my name and wouldn't trade it for the world, I do think being called Rose must be the nicest thing ever.
But the 19th century is not the present day and will never be.
But shouldn't love and relationships between people transcend time and places and cultures and societies?
I do have the most naive, fairytale-perfect notion of love and relationships.
That's because I was brought up on a steady diet of wholesome books full of starry-eyed wonder by parents who til this very day hold hands and sprinkle kisses liberally on willing foreheads and cheeks and bestow hugs on weary bodies.
So my notion of love is simple.
Innocently naive.
Almost painfully easy.
Chemistry.
Sparks.
Kismet of the ultimate form.
Sure, you get world wars in the midst of all that kismet (coz what kinda supernova of epic proportions isn't full of hot air and blinding light?), but a sort of peace and calm settles as quickly as quarrels flash and thunder.
Because shouldn't love be gentle and kind and unwavering and forgiving and happy and true?
IMHO, it's really that simple.
love deep, love hard, love true
And I've lost count of how many times I want that very ending until that very last full stop of the book.
And much as I love my name and wouldn't trade it for the world, I do think being called Rose must be the nicest thing ever.
But the 19th century is not the present day and will never be.
But shouldn't love and relationships between people transcend time and places and cultures and societies?
I do have the most naive, fairytale-perfect notion of love and relationships.
That's because I was brought up on a steady diet of wholesome books full of starry-eyed wonder by parents who til this very day hold hands and sprinkle kisses liberally on willing foreheads and cheeks and bestow hugs on weary bodies.
So my notion of love is simple.
Innocently naive.
Almost painfully easy.
Chemistry.
Sparks.
Kismet of the ultimate form.
Sure, you get world wars in the midst of all that kismet (coz what kinda supernova of epic proportions isn't full of hot air and blinding light?), but a sort of peace and calm settles as quickly as quarrels flash and thunder.
Because shouldn't love be gentle and kind and unwavering and forgiving and happy and true?
IMHO, it's really that simple.
love deep, love hard, love true
Saturday, June 16, 2012
of groceries bliss
IMHO, grocery shopping is the ultimate sign/experiment/test of domestic bliss.
No, I like those pretty toilet paper embossed with butterflies. It has to be at least 3 ply, darling.
Omg, you have sensitive teeth? So this means we need to get Sensodyne.
How can you not like alphabet-shaped pasta?!
No, I hate brussel sprouts, it makes me fart. But I love them.
My humble 2-cents-worth take on it:
Pick your battles.
Get the damn butterfly embossed toilet paper. 50 cents more for a gratified smile on her face is nothing.
Do you need to share even toiletries too, when you're already sharing your lives and bed and house and bank accounts and food and that cute golden Labrador puppy?
Be adventurous and spontaneous - pasta tonight will have both alphabets and penne. It's your new life together as a couple, go ahead and make your own rules.
Eat the damn brussel sprouts. It's good for you anyways.
And then, carry the grocery bags out of the supermarket together holding hands if possible, walk through the front door of your new house together, put the groceries away together, beached on the sofa together until dinnertime where you make carbonara with both penne and alphabet shapes.
And yes, the repetition of the word 'together' is intentional.
Rejoice that you do know the meaning of that word in every way and sense possible.
No, I like those pretty toilet paper embossed with butterflies. It has to be at least 3 ply, darling.
Omg, you have sensitive teeth? So this means we need to get Sensodyne.
How can you not like alphabet-shaped pasta?!
No, I hate brussel sprouts, it makes me fart. But I love them.
My humble 2-cents-worth take on it:
Pick your battles.
Get the damn butterfly embossed toilet paper. 50 cents more for a gratified smile on her face is nothing.
Do you need to share even toiletries too, when you're already sharing your lives and bed and house and bank accounts and food and that cute golden Labrador puppy?
Be adventurous and spontaneous - pasta tonight will have both alphabets and penne. It's your new life together as a couple, go ahead and make your own rules.
Eat the damn brussel sprouts. It's good for you anyways.
And then, carry the grocery bags out of the supermarket together holding hands if possible, walk through the front door of your new house together, put the groceries away together, beached on the sofa together until dinnertime where you make carbonara with both penne and alphabet shapes.
And yes, the repetition of the word 'together' is intentional.
Rejoice that you do know the meaning of that word in every way and sense possible.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Monday, June 04, 2012
so they say
honesty is the best policy
but which kinda policy?
the type of policy that keeps your butt off the fire
or
the type of policy that retains your clear conscience
or
the type of policy that doesn't give a damn
or
the type of policy that is without regrets
or
the type of policy that cloisters you in a happy little bubble
or
the type of policy that cloisters others in their happy little bubbles
or
the type of policy that washes your hands clean off any blame
or
the type of policy that cuts you so deep
or
the type of policy that is balm to your weary, secret-keeping soul
or
the type of policy that burns everyone in its way
or
the type of policy that builds stronger bridges
or
the type of policy that aches your heart
or
the type of policy that paints a smile on others' faces
or
the type of policy that destroys any semblance of security
or
the type of policy that answers every 'what if's whether rightly or wrongly
I have a mindful of legal-pad-written pros and cons
to prove the greyness of it all
but everytime I see those doe-shaped eyes
it explodes in colours
ribbons swirls around me
squeezing my ribcage
daring me to yell
the very thing that honesty is not the best policy for
'I'm here'.
honesty is the best policy
but which kinda policy?
the type of policy that keeps your butt off the fire
or
the type of policy that retains your clear conscience
or
the type of policy that doesn't give a damn
or
the type of policy that is without regrets
or
the type of policy that cloisters you in a happy little bubble
or
the type of policy that cloisters others in their happy little bubbles
or
the type of policy that washes your hands clean off any blame
or
the type of policy that cuts you so deep
or
the type of policy that is balm to your weary, secret-keeping soul
or
the type of policy that burns everyone in its way
or
the type of policy that builds stronger bridges
or
the type of policy that aches your heart
or
the type of policy that paints a smile on others' faces
or
the type of policy that destroys any semblance of security
or
the type of policy that answers every 'what if's whether rightly or wrongly
I have a mindful of legal-pad-written pros and cons
to prove the greyness of it all
but everytime I see those doe-shaped eyes
it explodes in colours
ribbons swirls around me
squeezing my ribcage
daring me to yell
the very thing that honesty is not the best policy for
'I'm here'.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Imma be awesome and try prose for just a while more.
current mood and thoughts:
towers of ivory and books keep guard
the aquiline nose buried under
the keen eyes dart through prose
the mind scurry amongst labyrinths
but the spirit doesn't age
it stays supple
clean
naive
and one day
unceremoniously
inevitably
painfully
cast right outside the ivory gates
with nothing but the weight of the mind
full of words and equations and pictograms
but none of the reason and logic and sensibilities
the aquiline nose buried under snow
the keen eyes dart dully and then stops
the mind scurry amongst the insanity of unpreparedness
and then the spirit ages
current mood and thoughts:
towers of ivory and books keep guard
the aquiline nose buried under
the keen eyes dart through prose
the mind scurry amongst labyrinths
but the spirit doesn't age
it stays supple
clean
naive
and one day
unceremoniously
inevitably
painfully
cast right outside the ivory gates
with nothing but the weight of the mind
full of words and equations and pictograms
but none of the reason and logic and sensibilities
the aquiline nose buried under snow
the keen eyes dart dully and then stops
the mind scurry amongst the insanity of unpreparedness
and then the spirit ages
Thursday, May 24, 2012
'The Dream' changes all the time.
Tonight, on this cold night,
I wish for a cheery 'Welcome home'
a nice, warm-to-the-heart-cockles hug
when I walk through the door.
Then bury my face
in a chestful of clean fresh linen embrace.
A smooth of hair
A chestrumble of sweet nothings
A disentanglement of a shoulderful of burdens
An offer to float me to bed.
Then softly
quietly
almost minutely
3 words
then,
'a little more than yesterday, a little less than tomorrow'
Tonight, on this cold night,
I wish for a cheery 'Welcome home'
a nice, warm-to-the-heart-cockles hug
when I walk through the door.
Then bury my face
in a chestful of clean fresh linen embrace.
A smooth of hair
A chestrumble of sweet nothings
A disentanglement of a shoulderful of burdens
An offer to float me to bed.
Then softly
quietly
almost minutely
3 words
then,
'a little more than yesterday, a little less than tomorrow'
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can
completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve
never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and
actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that
will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many
disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful
happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share
in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you
are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do
they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough,
but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that
make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure,
jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around.
You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you
because they love you for who you are. The things that seem
insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become
invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever.
Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s
like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant.
Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or
didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you
through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In
their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you
find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never
interested you before become fascinating because you know they are
important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this
person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring
them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on
the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be
broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy
that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the
only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it
scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and
possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems
completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and
security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.
-Bob Marley-
-Bob Marley-
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Adapted from Glamour magazine:
By 30, you should have ...
1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age -- and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account -- all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.
By 30, you should know ...
1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
8. Where to go -- be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat -- when your soul needs soothing.
9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30
By 30, you should have ...
1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age -- and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account -- all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.
By 30, you should know ...
1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
8. Where to go -- be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat -- when your soul needs soothing.
9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
I'm 23 going on 24.
And I want to rewrite the childhood of that 23-year-old girl I saw in consultation last last week.
I want her to be carefree and not worry about the strange man that came into her bedroom some nights.
I wish she didn't have drugs and hatred and yearning and loneliness and attempted suicide and an older boyfriend in her system.
I want to shake her by the shoulders and say, 'Sort yourself out. Go to rehab. Don't use pregnancy and a new baby as a life- and existence-affirming tool. Don't you want your child to have a life that is the exact opposite of yours?'
Children can't choose their families, they can't choose to be born into affluence or poverty or love or hatred.
The world is sometimes cruel enough.
Don't condemn them to an even worse existence.
And that's my spiel for the week.
And yes, I need superpowers to do all that.
Sometimes, medicine is a tad too taxing and personal.
No, scratch that.
It's not medicine.
It's people.
And I want to rewrite the childhood of that 23-year-old girl I saw in consultation last last week.
I want her to be carefree and not worry about the strange man that came into her bedroom some nights.
I wish she didn't have drugs and hatred and yearning and loneliness and attempted suicide and an older boyfriend in her system.
I want to shake her by the shoulders and say, 'Sort yourself out. Go to rehab. Don't use pregnancy and a new baby as a life- and existence-affirming tool. Don't you want your child to have a life that is the exact opposite of yours?'
Children can't choose their families, they can't choose to be born into affluence or poverty or love or hatred.
The world is sometimes cruel enough.
Don't condemn them to an even worse existence.
And that's my spiel for the week.
And yes, I need superpowers to do all that.
Sometimes, medicine is a tad too taxing and personal.
No, scratch that.
It's not medicine.
It's people.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The good thing about being young is that
you can change your mind a thousand times and say that you're in the process of finding yourself,
you can be spontaneous and say that you're only young once,
you can wear that colour and say that you're experimenting,
you can have beautiful dreams and say that one day it's all gonna come true,
you can set impossible goals and say that you're allowed to be idealistic,
you can daydream the afternoon away and say that you're building castles in the sky,
you can believe in fairies and prince charming and unicorns and say that you're just done being a child,
you can dabble a little in anything and everything and say that you'll be too old to try them later on.
******
I still get teary eyed everytime the midwife hands the newborn to the parents and the mother always cries and the father beams like a lighthouse in the middle of the stormy sea. And every single time, I think to myself, 'Heck, it's nice to have a little girl/boy that is half of me and half of my soul mate and we get to live happily ever after.' And I start to build castles in the sky of little sticky pudgy fingers helping me to bake jam tarts on a Saturday afternoon, a safe warm nest of throw rugs at night with my little family by the fireplace, happy Sunday roast lunches with 3 generations at the table so lazy that it stretches to dinnertime, coming home to a chorus of "You're home!" and tight enthusiastic hugs.
And then, I remember that cute little Buddha-like baby I met in Samrong and the castles in the sky somehow fades quite a bit and they lose their rosy glow. Somehow, I feel a little selfish for having those little daydreams.
But hey, I'm still young and I'm allowed to change my mind, I'm allowed to be idealistic and set impossible goals and have beautiful dreams for myself at the same time because I can experiment and find myself.
you can change your mind a thousand times and say that you're in the process of finding yourself,
you can be spontaneous and say that you're only young once,
you can wear that colour and say that you're experimenting,
you can have beautiful dreams and say that one day it's all gonna come true,
you can set impossible goals and say that you're allowed to be idealistic,
you can daydream the afternoon away and say that you're building castles in the sky,
you can believe in fairies and prince charming and unicorns and say that you're just done being a child,
you can dabble a little in anything and everything and say that you'll be too old to try them later on.
******
I still get teary eyed everytime the midwife hands the newborn to the parents and the mother always cries and the father beams like a lighthouse in the middle of the stormy sea. And every single time, I think to myself, 'Heck, it's nice to have a little girl/boy that is half of me and half of my soul mate and we get to live happily ever after.' And I start to build castles in the sky of little sticky pudgy fingers helping me to bake jam tarts on a Saturday afternoon, a safe warm nest of throw rugs at night with my little family by the fireplace, happy Sunday roast lunches with 3 generations at the table so lazy that it stretches to dinnertime, coming home to a chorus of "You're home!" and tight enthusiastic hugs.
And then, I remember that cute little Buddha-like baby I met in Samrong and the castles in the sky somehow fades quite a bit and they lose their rosy glow. Somehow, I feel a little selfish for having those little daydreams.
But hey, I'm still young and I'm allowed to change my mind, I'm allowed to be idealistic and set impossible goals and have beautiful dreams for myself at the same time because I can experiment and find myself.
Monday, March 19, 2012
I want to live with no regrets.
I want to be a bigger person that you.
I want to see the world through rose-coloured glasses.
I want to throw my head back and laugh with no worries.
I want to work hard for something and taste the sweetness of results.
I want to dance in the rain.
I want to soak in the sun and not care about anything.
I want to sway to music without caring about where I am.
I want to wear colours and not worry about whether they match.
I want to smile and mean it.
I want to see the people around me live happily ever after.
I want to take away all the worries of the world.
I want to see how people live on every continent.
I want to see the mean, mean people on this earth punished.
I want to see no suffering.
I want to give happy remaining days to those who do.
I want to fall in love and remain in love til we're gray and old.
I want to remove prejudice and all the -isms in the world.
I want to let people of any kind live in no fear and no regrets.
I want to learn the guitar.
I want to speak French fluently.
I want to drift aimlessly in a gondola in twilight.
I want to have a golden retriever and call it 'Spot'.
I want to have a library of 1st editions.
I want to have a sun-dappled art room filled with oil paints.
I want to lie under the canopy of a tree and let the world whirl by.
I want to see the colours of abstract words.
I want to be happy in love like my parents.
I want to stand in a smokey bar and sing my heart out.
I want to be brave and say "Don't be silly. I'm here already. Stop waiting."
I want to create wonderful things for the world.
I want to leave behind something sweet and eternal and good.
I want to live in the moment and not overthink.
I want to be not constrained by societal norms, etiquette, rules, regulations.
I want to be the best friend.
I want to build a treehouse and live in it like Peter and Jane.
I want to look at someone and say, "I'm home."
I want to look at a child and say, "Don't worry, you're gonna be fine."
I want to look at my parents and say, "Everything I've achieved is for you."
I want to learn how to cry in front of people and not wipe my tears away in secret.
I want to be brave and uncaring enough to show my true expressions.
I want to be careful and carefree at the same time.
I want to have beautiful dreams and live them.
I want to be a bigger person that you.
I want to see the world through rose-coloured glasses.
I want to throw my head back and laugh with no worries.
I want to work hard for something and taste the sweetness of results.
I want to dance in the rain.
I want to soak in the sun and not care about anything.
I want to sway to music without caring about where I am.
I want to wear colours and not worry about whether they match.
I want to smile and mean it.
I want to see the people around me live happily ever after.
I want to take away all the worries of the world.
I want to see how people live on every continent.
I want to see the mean, mean people on this earth punished.
I want to see no suffering.
I want to give happy remaining days to those who do.
I want to fall in love and remain in love til we're gray and old.
I want to remove prejudice and all the -isms in the world.
I want to let people of any kind live in no fear and no regrets.
I want to learn the guitar.
I want to speak French fluently.
I want to drift aimlessly in a gondola in twilight.
I want to have a golden retriever and call it 'Spot'.
I want to have a library of 1st editions.
I want to have a sun-dappled art room filled with oil paints.
I want to lie under the canopy of a tree and let the world whirl by.
I want to see the colours of abstract words.
I want to be happy in love like my parents.
I want to stand in a smokey bar and sing my heart out.
I want to be brave and say "Don't be silly. I'm here already. Stop waiting."
I want to create wonderful things for the world.
I want to leave behind something sweet and eternal and good.
I want to live in the moment and not overthink.
I want to be not constrained by societal norms, etiquette, rules, regulations.
I want to be the best friend.
I want to build a treehouse and live in it like Peter and Jane.
I want to look at someone and say, "I'm home."
I want to look at a child and say, "Don't worry, you're gonna be fine."
I want to look at my parents and say, "Everything I've achieved is for you."
I want to learn how to cry in front of people and not wipe my tears away in secret.
I want to be brave and uncaring enough to show my true expressions.
I want to be careful and carefree at the same time.
I want to have beautiful dreams and live them.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
The thing that I know about myself is that again and again, I give in to people and issues and events and whatever that swirls around me.
Sure, I work hard for what I want and I give bloody 200% and in return, if I get whatever it is that I want, then I say 'Awesome! Mel has done well once again'. But then when things don't go the way that I want to go, I say 'Oh well, things happen for a reason and surely there must be something out there that's better than me'.
And so far, that's proven true. Countless times, I've been blessed with plenty of things myself.
And there are some times where I've been blessed with sights of people that I care dearly about being happy and safe and secure in their lives, even though I have had to live with the little regret. But hey, at least the benefits outweigh whatever disappointment/regret/pain I went through.
But sometimes, I just want to be brave and good enough to say 'No, that's not it' and actually mean it and not take it back or overthink it.
But then again, I did try.
So I can sleep tonight. Without the feeling of unknowingness or 'what if's.
Sure, I work hard for what I want and I give bloody 200% and in return, if I get whatever it is that I want, then I say 'Awesome! Mel has done well once again'. But then when things don't go the way that I want to go, I say 'Oh well, things happen for a reason and surely there must be something out there that's better than me'.
And so far, that's proven true. Countless times, I've been blessed with plenty of things myself.
And there are some times where I've been blessed with sights of people that I care dearly about being happy and safe and secure in their lives, even though I have had to live with the little regret. But hey, at least the benefits outweigh whatever disappointment/regret/pain I went through.
But sometimes, I just want to be brave and good enough to say 'No, that's not it' and actually mean it and not take it back or overthink it.
But then again, I did try.
So I can sleep tonight. Without the feeling of unknowingness or 'what if's.
Thursday, March 01, 2012
"You're too nice, you're too nice, you're too nice!"
Stop it.
You're being too gentlemanly.
If you go un-nice yourself, I would have such an easy time.
Go and embrace your inner ogre. No, not Shrek kinda ogre who really isn't a fairy-tale ogre that eats people and grinds their bones to dust but is really an onion with layers.
Be those kinda ogres that are mean, who takes things and people forgranted, who turns the other way when people fall down the rabbit hole.
Coz if you're like that, the unknowingness could stop.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Stop it.
You're being too gentlemanly.
If you go un-nice yourself, I would have such an easy time.
Go and embrace your inner ogre. No, not Shrek kinda ogre who really isn't a fairy-tale ogre that eats people and grinds their bones to dust but is really an onion with layers.
Be those kinda ogres that are mean, who takes things and people forgranted, who turns the other way when people fall down the rabbit hole.
Coz if you're like that, the unknowingness could stop.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, November 18, 2011
La vie en rose
Is what dreamers see the world as.
But is it so bad to put on rose-colored glasses
Once in a very blue moon?
I say,
See the world as a technicolour dreamcoat first and foremost,
Then pick at the colour scabs all you want like formicators do,
But at the end of the blue day,
See it still as la vie en rose,
Because the fact is,
You were there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Is what dreamers see the world as.
But is it so bad to put on rose-colored glasses
Once in a very blue moon?
I say,
See the world as a technicolour dreamcoat first and foremost,
Then pick at the colour scabs all you want like formicators do,
But at the end of the blue day,
See it still as la vie en rose,
Because the fact is,
You were there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, November 14, 2011
Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen, the Jerry McGuire version with those quotable quotes, rocks.
Especially when it plays with the earplugs on at 10pm with you lying comfortably in bed.
It's one of those nice moments of the day.
Small and short but nice.
"I love him for the man he wants to be. I love him for the man that he almost is. I love him, Laurel, I love him."
"This is where it has to happen,this is what has to happen. I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that?! I miss my wife. I love you. You complete me."
I mean, twi-what again?! Lol.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Especially when it plays with the earplugs on at 10pm with you lying comfortably in bed.
It's one of those nice moments of the day.
Small and short but nice.
"I love him for the man he wants to be. I love him for the man that he almost is. I love him, Laurel, I love him."
"This is where it has to happen,this is what has to happen. I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that?! I miss my wife. I love you. You complete me."
I mean, twi-what again?! Lol.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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