Monday, November 09, 2009
♥ 12 55 AM
I've made up my mind.
Let's help me imagine this, in painfully excruciating detail so that it may materialize into reality :
First of all I will examine the Brain, inside the labyrinth called Memory, looking for every sign, every trace, every smell and every sound. Thus these fragments shall be collected into an air-tight Sack, tied secure and sealed double-tight.
Next will be the gargantuan challenge of searching for the real source. I know only too well the way; every corner and every turn, and there he is : the gigantic creature asleep. Right where I left him on our last encounter. He has always been the most fascinating creature I've ever seen, for he attracts as powerfully as he repels. I will look at the horrifying fuzzy hair covering the length of skin and bones, interspersed with growing thorns that seem to become sharper and yet sharper each day; I will look at the two little black bubbles stuck on the frontal lobe of his head - now with horror - those unfathomable enigmas that lure and bewitch with delusive promises of extending our frontiers of knowledge.
I shall not blink, for I shall not lose my focus as I inch forward and circumvent around the sleeping beast to grab him by the horn - firmly, but gently - and throw him into a gigantic metal container in one great heave. THUD. Quick as lightning the Sack will follow suit. Another THUD. And in split second I will bang close the lid in one definitive CLANG. Bolted, nailed, screwed, and fastened.
Last but not least is the tedious task of pushing the metal box down the labyrinth, inching slowly but surely out from the Memory premises, all the way back past Emotion, Intuition, and Facts, to the "Storehouse of Unsolved Cases and Restricted Files for The Time Being". Into its musty darkness that smells of rotten fungus and torn parchment I shall leave the box for eternity. The building's metal doors will be then padlocked and barred - no double barred - and listen to this, (this is the most important part) : I will swallow down the tiny key with perhaps the help of a gallon of water. Whatever it takes.
There there. It's done.
The whole Memory building will be aired for some time until I can breath fresh and clean, the labyrinth ready to host yet perhaps another creature. And I shall not cry. And I shall go to bed to sleep it off. Once and for all. I promise.
P.S. I'm not dreaming, I'm imagining this.
P.S.S. Please let it be real tomorrow. Please please please.
Let's help me imagine this, in painfully excruciating detail so that it may materialize into reality :
First of all I will examine the Brain, inside the labyrinth called Memory, looking for every sign, every trace, every smell and every sound. Thus these fragments shall be collected into an air-tight Sack, tied secure and sealed double-tight.
Next will be the gargantuan challenge of searching for the real source. I know only too well the way; every corner and every turn, and there he is : the gigantic creature asleep. Right where I left him on our last encounter. He has always been the most fascinating creature I've ever seen, for he attracts as powerfully as he repels. I will look at the horrifying fuzzy hair covering the length of skin and bones, interspersed with growing thorns that seem to become sharper and yet sharper each day; I will look at the two little black bubbles stuck on the frontal lobe of his head - now with horror - those unfathomable enigmas that lure and bewitch with delusive promises of extending our frontiers of knowledge.
I shall not blink, for I shall not lose my focus as I inch forward and circumvent around the sleeping beast to grab him by the horn - firmly, but gently - and throw him into a gigantic metal container in one great heave. THUD. Quick as lightning the Sack will follow suit. Another THUD. And in split second I will bang close the lid in one definitive CLANG. Bolted, nailed, screwed, and fastened.
Last but not least is the tedious task of pushing the metal box down the labyrinth, inching slowly but surely out from the Memory premises, all the way back past Emotion, Intuition, and Facts, to the "Storehouse of Unsolved Cases and Restricted Files for The Time Being". Into its musty darkness that smells of rotten fungus and torn parchment I shall leave the box for eternity. The building's metal doors will be then padlocked and barred - no double barred - and listen to this, (this is the most important part) : I will swallow down the tiny key with perhaps the help of a gallon of water. Whatever it takes.
There there. It's done.
The whole Memory building will be aired for some time until I can breath fresh and clean, the labyrinth ready to host yet perhaps another creature. And I shall not cry. And I shall go to bed to sleep it off. Once and for all. I promise.
P.S. I'm not dreaming, I'm imagining this.
P.S.S. Please let it be real tomorrow. Please please please.
8:55 AM
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
♥ 10thingsihateaboutyou
1. EVERYTHING
2. EVERYTHING
3. EVERYTHING
4. EVERYTHING
5. EVERYTHING
6. EVERYTHING
7. EVERYTHING
8. SERIOUSLY. LITERALLY EVERYTHING
9. EVERYTHING BUT I CAN'T TELL
10. DESPITE EVERYTHING I CAN'T LET GO
like an idiot.
Anyway Father has gone crazy with his spending binges, funding excessive overseas trips, electronic gadgets, apartments and whatnot among various other things. I won't tell you the details but it's enough to make me anxious about our future welfare, investment and survival.
On a conversation with a very unresponsive brother.
ME : Maybe it's mid-life crisis.
BRO : (Grunts. Eyes glued permanently on mac)
ME : Maybe this is a sort of extensive apology. If you know what I mean.
BRO : (Doesn't even bother to grunt. Examining his new wacom pen-tablet with delight).
ME : (kicking his butt) Say something!
BRO : grins and stares
(with a look that definitely says : i don't know and i don't want to know but i'm an opportunist and as long as the going is good i'm tapping into the full potential of this situation so shut up and let me play with my new babies that's the laptop that comes with complementary gadgets and iPhone and DSLR which I don't really need but he bought me anyway and who knows what else to come. heheheeee)
ME : (kick his butt one last time)
2. EVERYTHING
3. EVERYTHING
4. EVERYTHING
5. EVERYTHING
6. EVERYTHING
7. EVERYTHING
8. SERIOUSLY. LITERALLY EVERYTHING
9. EVERYTHING BUT I CAN'T TELL
10. DESPITE EVERYTHING I CAN'T LET GO
like an idiot.
Anyway Father has gone crazy with his spending binges, funding excessive overseas trips, electronic gadgets, apartments and whatnot among various other things. I won't tell you the details but it's enough to make me anxious about our future welfare, investment and survival.
On a conversation with a very unresponsive brother.
ME : Maybe it's mid-life crisis.
BRO : (Grunts. Eyes glued permanently on mac)
ME : Maybe this is a sort of extensive apology. If you know what I mean.
BRO : (Doesn't even bother to grunt. Examining his new wacom pen-tablet with delight).
ME : (kicking his butt) Say something!
BRO : grins and stares
(with a look that definitely says : i don't know and i don't want to know but i'm an opportunist and as long as the going is good i'm tapping into the full potential of this situation so shut up and let me play with my new babies that's the laptop that comes with complementary gadgets and iPhone and DSLR which I don't really need but he bought me anyway and who knows what else to come. heheheeee)
ME : (kick his butt one last time)
1:58 AM
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
♥ Sssst..... SHE'S SLEEPING
My bright red plastic watch showing 11 30 on the dot. Two hours have gone by, NOT A SINGLE word produced. At this rate I'll finish by March 2010.
But sssst... look at her. Just look. She's sleeping next to me, small and childlike and oh-so-harmless. Bright shafts of morning sun fall gently on top of our faces, making her aglow with delicate translucent gauze; everything else is brimming in white-light peaceful bliss. (That if you ignore the loud urging voice at the back of your head, that voice called Conscience, uselessly reminding you about the task at hand and the hard cold fact that "the dateline is TODAY TODAY TODAY", and "four hours from NOW NOW NOW NOW" )
Sssh. Sssh.
I suppress those noises to the deepest corner at the furthest back of my mind and stare at her instead. No, I'm not turning lesbian (although I may consider this interesting option in the future). I'm just wondering at the various marvels and wonders of the world, one of which comes in the form of fairyette.
That's how I call these people. Fairyette. Perhaps I should come up with a less emasculating noun for the male population, but the girls are definitely fairyette. They are people who, despite the powerful evil forces going abound in every direction to every corner of the world, remain obstinately pure and clean. People who, upon coming into puberty and adolescent, do not develop that slight streak of stinginess nor cunning; no tightening around the jaws, hardening of the gaze, creasing of the forehead, and downward sloping of the mouth. People who, simply put, remain children through and through. They live in their own unadulterated tale, where the morning sky is in deep cerulean color and stars glinting against the velvety darkness of the night. Every single day.
Nowadays I raise my head and look around. I turn on my computer and browse facebook. I open my cupboard door and look in the mirror. Everywhere I turn around, I see people, my peers, all turning into that prissy, tight-lipped aunty who smacked your butt for running around the house; who boasted about their new jewels and latest Prada bag. They're turning into that skinny uncle (or in some cases, grossly overweight) with crooked knees, crooked smile, and crooked heart. With pig watery eyes that leer and calculate.
They're turning into adults. Me included.
But those fairyettes never fail to make me smile, grow warm and soft around the heart. The loveliest creatures on earth whose population is rapidly declining. I'm planning to write to UNESCO to label them under "endangered specimen" and protect them under their wings, for they serve as my last hope, my last thread of faith in humankind.
Nowadays even their mere appearances are seldom spotted, their tales almost unheard of. I've known only two in my life, and heard of three others from distant places. One the sister of the mother of my step grandmother; another the friend of the friend of my second-degree cousin; the last one happens to be the unrequited past love interest of my current somewhat of a boyfriend (and how on earth could anyone blame me for being always on the edge? Fairyette's charm is powerfully irresistible, not to mention absolutely unparalleled. Except if you are one yourself - which I am obviously NOT. Duh).
Ooops, she's waking up now.
"Would you like to go to SAC with me? I'm hungry."
"Sure," I beam back, my heart melting like butter.
It's 12 30 now, and I still haven't typed a single word! Oh well, I think it's gonna be my turn to sleep after lunch later. Sleep is one of the most effective methods to eliminate Conscience in times of frustration.
Cheerios. Wish me luck!
8:18 PM
Friday, October 02, 2009
♥ IN A WEEK'S TIME
THE PHILIPPINES
VIETNAM
INDONESIA
PACIFICALL within A WEEK
on the eve of a particular National Day Celebration
The world is changing. I can feel it in the air.
Shifting, vibrating, pulsating, resonating. With a sigh and a groan.
The slightest thread, the subtlest nexus.
Every single particle
counts.
P.S. I'm expecting for more to come. Hopefully not on this disturbingly little red dot.
P.S.S. On a lighter note, my promotional exams begin next Tuesday, and good luck wishes start pouring in. But I do not need luck. I need miracle.
Hmm, on second thought, perhaps it's not such a complete disaster if this dear little red dot is next in line. =P
P.S.S. On a lighter note, my promotional exams begin next Tuesday, and good luck wishes start pouring in. But I do not need luck. I need miracle.
Hmm, on second thought, perhaps it's not such a complete disaster if this dear little red dot is next in line. =P
7:32 AM
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
♥ WRITER'S BLOCK
i know that she's everything I'm not but hey, has she ever
Been listening to "Hey Steven" by Taylor Swift, and realize that the lyrics is quite cute. I can actually relate to it. Well in a sense. Or maybe not. Writing a song is way cooler than a boring 3000 word academic essay that you write out of obligation instead of romantic creativity.
Anyway, my whole family is here! I haven't realized in such a long time how comfortably nice it is to come home to your mother's cooking and your brother's smelly socks (lying on the floor) after a long day at school. It reminds me of those good old times when my math exams posed questions with 1+1=2 - level-of-difficulty and I could revise my history trivia in my sleep.
My TOK essay is still waiting to be completed and I'm having an ACUTE WRITER'S BLOCK at the moment. Gosh how painful it is to produce even a sentence!
The content of my blog is progressively degrading, just like my brain. Not that I have enough time to post anything of substance with THAT BIG SCARY IB MONSTER looming in the horizon.
Perhaps I should stop blogging and start rambling on a personal diary.
A slice of my apartment. I'm currently sitting and typing here. See? This is how I procrastinate. Anything but confronting that intimidating essay blinking at the bottom of the monitor.
WRITTEN A 3000-WORD ESSAY ABOUT YOU?
Been listening to "Hey Steven" by Taylor Swift, and realize that the lyrics is quite cute. I can actually relate to it. Well in a sense. Or maybe not. Writing a song is way cooler than a boring 3000 word academic essay that you write out of obligation instead of romantic creativity.
Anyway, my whole family is here! I haven't realized in such a long time how comfortably nice it is to come home to your mother's cooking and your brother's smelly socks (lying on the floor) after a long day at school. It reminds me of those good old times when my math exams posed questions with 1+1=2 - level-of-difficulty and I could revise my history trivia in my sleep.
My TOK essay is still waiting to be completed and I'm having an ACUTE WRITER'S BLOCK at the moment. Gosh how painful it is to produce even a sentence!
The content of my blog is progressively degrading, just like my brain. Not that I have enough time to post anything of substance with THAT BIG SCARY IB MONSTER looming in the horizon.
Perhaps I should stop blogging and start rambling on a personal diary.
A slice of my apartment. I'm currently sitting and typing here. See? This is how I procrastinate. Anything but confronting that intimidating essay blinking at the bottom of the monitor.
6:33 AM
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
♥ AMERICAN BEAUTY
When Lester Burnham's life flashed before his eyes, he thought of these words :
"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax… and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can’t feel anything but gratitude.
For every single moment of my stupid little life.
You have no idea of what I’m talking about I’m sure. But don’t worry.
"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax… and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can’t feel anything but gratitude.
For every single moment of my stupid little life.
You have no idea of what I’m talking about I’m sure. But don’t worry.
You will someday. "
Will I someday?
Will I someday?
American Beauty is beautiful! My dad has had the DVD stacked up in his drawer back in Indonesia like forever, and I can't believe I had not once even touched it before. I was just watching it online through some lousy Chinese streaming website. Low-quality picture could not compromise its power though - not in the least.
Powerful characters, powerful plot. It's a great piece of realism peppered with wry-dry (and dark!) humor. Fantastic to put an end to your Wednesday blues.
Powerful characters, powerful plot. It's a great piece of realism peppered with wry-dry (and dark!) humor. Fantastic to put an end to your Wednesday blues.
Note to self : It's better to be late than never. I have tons of work waiting on my desk but I guess my stupid little life is quite pretty after all.
6:43 AM
Thursday, July 30, 2009
♥ AND THIS IS MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE :))
TELEPHONE CONVERSATION
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey -- I am African,"
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?"... I had not misheard ... "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A. Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"-- and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness changed her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunete."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam -- by sitting down, has turned.
My bottom raven black -- One moment, madam!" -- sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears -- "Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"
Ladies and Gentlemen, the present love of my life.
Oh you're genius.
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey -- I am African,"
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?"... I had not misheard ... "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A. Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"-- and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness changed her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunete."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam -- by sitting down, has turned.
My bottom raven black -- One moment, madam!" -- sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears -- "Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"
Ladies and Gentlemen, the present love of my life.
5:42 AM