The Story I Wish I Can Have

"I can live only wholly with you, or not at all" - Ludwig Van Beethoven

.today is my parents 25th anniversary.

*
and,

my mum whom despise going to the cinema,
wants to watch 2012
on her 25th anniversary

i hope this means
" bah, i'll be with you until the end, the end of time"

my mum is one clever woman isn't she
i want to have 25 and more

The Elastic Limit

" you're out of luck " - Bono

everyone has their own baggage to carry. everyone has their own fights to win. i have mine and you do too, i am sure. so don't patronize, don't throw accusations, don't make it harder than it already is. the difference between people, and the degree of respect that they earn is how they come out of that shit hole. seriously. i have my own punching bag, i suggest you get one too. jeng :)

you seldom get weeks where everything seems to happen at one go. last week was one of those very rare weeks. the kind where you get to see how people are stripped off the mask that they clinged so tight to, the kind where you see who voluntarily comes to your rescue and offers a hug, offers a punching bag, the kind where you see how forgiving or unforgiving people can be, the kind that you see how time flies and you finally have to bid adieu, the kind where you decide to go for a night out and drown in its silence, the kind that makes you seat at the park for hours wishing that you are that kid with that pink slippers chasing those cute little boys, the kind where you try to put matters of the past, the present and what could be into perspective , the kind that reminds you that everyone else is also human, no different than what you are. so be fair.

i hope kan, everyone will be happy. heee :)

sometimes i don't see a point of rambling , i read sarah's (sim) blog just a few hours ago, and what she wrote haunts me. what she wrote haunts me because it's true.

"you don't say the same things to two different person do you? at least not in the same mannerism and tone" -sarah sim.

p/s : mppj are such gold diggers, stalkers even. i don't appreciate you taking the money that i have been saving up for a duffel bag, a pair of flats, or a decent dress . or a nikon D5000. mppj jahat.

The White Flag

" ma, bah, i know you check on me here, thank you. i don't say thank you enough"

ma, bah nak balik penang sekejap. i need your blessings before my mock exam. before it's too late. i'm caving in, i feel like crying on your shoulders like a five year old.

:'(

abang says he wants to go home too but the difference between him and me - he gets to go around sydney, he gets to backpack around melb, and he gets to scuba dive like Nemo in great barrier reef. he is already where he wants to be or at least suppose to be. the difference between him and me- his future is a secured one and mine is like a fog in the wee hours. its slowly evanescing away.

The Fine Thread

"it's time to live and let die" - billie joe armstrong

i like it more back then. when the world that i know now, is much less of a scary place, much less of a shit hole. oblivious to all of its complexities. when right is just right, and wrong is plain wrong. an obvious two. it's vague now, there is a fine thread that separates the good and the bad. then you have the difficult in between, the ugly and the reality of things. what you see, is never what you get. they say, what you don't know, won't hurt you, so i deliberately ask -" really now? that's just fucking denial" . sometimes our faith shakens under the unspeakable truth, and you are left uninvited, pondering in the corner. what do i believe in these days?

the fight gets tougher, the problems ain't petty, the drunk don't get any wiser. and math ain't getting any easier.


. ciao .

The Morning Wishes

"lets have coffee, shall we"

hey,
g 'm o r n i n g


*
the semi-awake-college-going-kid

The Silent Slam

"où êtes-vous?"

so i used to asked. then at some point it became rhetorical. it slowly didn't matter anymore. hye, i'm here, same-o me.i've been on hiatus fer some time, i choose this , i choose to be invisible ( at least to you). you should know, i'm alive, definitely better than the time before. not that it would do any difference. not that its of any significance, but i promised to be a friend, and i am still here. i hope you're happy, i am not bitter. maybe immune would fit in just perfect. this thing in me, the one that beats every half a second, it shrunk . so small that i don't think i have space fer resentment. i don't resent you fer all the things you did or didn't do. my heart is an empty room, and i'm waiting fer my IKEA. .

people are like clothes. your heart jumps at the sight of that new dress on a mannequin, try it shall we. it fits, more than perfect on you. then after some time,it may look just as exact, but when you put it on, it just feels different. it's not that the materials changed, the elements, the sewed on string, the buttons, the pins, the ruffles, the detailed lining - nada, nothing's changed but the colour fades, worn too many of a time. it used to be a favourite, now its in those piles of forgotten draggy cloths. it served you well, even a little more than expected. but it just wears out.

i listen to the beatles and i don't expect to get that same rush like before, and it had to be THE BEATLES :'(

i wish you well, i hope you will be happy, but not on the expense of others, i hope you''ll become a realist , i hope that you don't use maturity against anyone, not until you earn that right. i hope the next person that you sing to, would be the song that you wrote, the same one you told me before, the same one that i will never get to hear, and she will sleep to it like a lullaby, trust me, she would find comfort in that. i would know. i hope you make all the right choices, and even if you don't it's all the wrongs that would make it right. please remember her birthday. put her on speed dial. don't let her get grounded. if you decide to buy her a guitar, teach her. you make a good teacher. it wouldn't hurt to ask how she's been. say like you mean it , at least try to. don't hang up on her. don't say hello and then be silent. give and take, it works. don't patronize her, she's not you. she's only human, she's not you. promise me you would give it a try, for her sake, for your sake. tell her about the dreams that you have, about the theories of the world. make all the goodbyes easy.

maybe i don't know you enough, so i hope you give her the fair chance i didn't get.

its been too long
thank you, but i am me once more.

The Quiet Times

" did you stop at any time, have doubts at any stage?"

i rarely update. i have more drafts than the posted ones. you'll never get to read the drafts. i feel so powerful even herculean just telling you that. i would write and post it three weeks after. so you won't even notice it. i would write and post it three weeks after, so if we meet in real life, you won't see me putting on a veggie face - its pretty fucked. i write, and you won't read. because you think blogging is cheap publicity.

i rarely update. i don't understand why people want me to update.

i rarely update, but if i start to write again you have the license to call me hypocritical

i rarely update, but there comes a point, i realized, how i am responsible for the choices that i make. how the life that entangles in front of me are controlled by my own invisible hands. and how i can never live or at least try not living by others' expectations. so this is me saying, i miss blogging. and so i shall write. and post it.

The Puncture In Her

few things make me move these days

few things make my world rattle, makes it heave
very little things even matter


at least not too long ago, some bastard gave a crap, its even pathetic now that not one single jackass gives a holly ass shyte. there, who says you can't have that much swearing in one sentence.

tired is when the body feels like a punching bag, beaten all over. weary is when the body feels like purging every drop of caffeine drank under the influence of undone assignments. enough is when nights are meant for preparing speeches on euthanasia, morning comes and you try to make sense of that 5 pages long of justification on the nonsensical practice of mercy killing , afternoon knocks and it's time to dig up some brainy ass clever answers on exchange rate, and it's midnight again, and it's back to square one. it's back to squeezing that minuscule brain of yours on the suitability of the linear regression technique.

in between is the time of torture. the after hours is when the aftermath takes its course. exactly when you feel like all hell have break loose. so you go on screaming in your head, at decibels so high, your vein dilates and eventually raptures. exhausted. and all you ever wanted, all you ever crave is one good dream, one decent sleep. an imaginary world where you try to make belief of all things far fetched, so you hang on to that last grip, so tight, that maybe you wouldn't fall out of grace (again).

the silent therapy is when you first let that tough slap across the face cools away. the quite epiphany is when you make peace with the mistakes you thought would do justice for all the things you've done wrong, a retribution for the times you thought life is all about the wrongs that you ought to make at the right time. the psycho escapist period is when you poke through all your exam sheets, you make multiple attempt of killing your snugly pillow , you try to treat nescafe like it was John Barleycorn also that time when you go on a hiatus and resort to hookah.

the act of ceding is when you deliberately ask the rhetorical question , why-oh-why. relinquishing is when he tells you "tomorrow you'll fail to fail" and it turns out to be a complete bogus, the sympathetic lie you wish nobody would ever tell. giving up is when you seat on your chair and thought- that's enough, c'est la vie. c'est la vie. and life's' a bitch. giving up is when you gave it all, you swore you gave everything and still got back a handful of crap.

putting up a block dead face is when you're almost rolled out eyeballs fells like sinking in tears. exiting the class in blisters of shame. escaping the heavy air that chokes your right around the neck. bringing the world to silence is when you simply shuts off and remain hollow, untouchable by all remarks.gliding through the crowd is when you try to be invisible, because they've had the pieces all wrong. failure is my middle name. it's always there. now maybe just more commonly addressed than before.

i want a stranger, completely orthogonal. i want a stranger to show me all the new places. i want a stranger that would excite me with all the new experiences. i want a stranger to shake my world. to make me do somersaults again.

haha, saya nak mati. kadang kadang walaupun hanya expression, it insinuates the real situation.

The Expiry Date

" bing. candler bing- because I was obsessed with Chandler's sarcasm"

in loving memories of Bing

we shall now say a prayer for Bing
Bing left me and the roomie on 19th April 09, at the age of 2 months and 3 days,

Bing arrived on the 16th, a small token from Sue, for my birthday. Bing came along with Phoebe , but Phoebe died two days after. Bing pooped before he died, I watched it in slow mo and it hit me, fishes do poo. It was one of those "national geographic" moment. I sat and watched slowly as his body turned over and floated. And then it ended. It was a tid bit disappointing. He was fun to watch in the morning. He was fun to watch after classes in the evening. He was fun to say goodnight to. Bye Bing. Go to Phoebe now, she misses you.

The Physics Of Us

"Cliche becomes a cliche for a reason, because they work"- Mcreamy

i am unscathed. like phi, 2.374, i am a constant. radius square me, i am still a constant
you are unscathed. like induced e.m.f, you exist with the principle of change over time
then it all make sense. it must make sense

e.m.f = - B ( phi radius square)/ time
you = - Bullshyte ( me) / time

the physics of us, we give it a good equation. Faraday gave us an equation.
exponentially, we decay over time.
so we go unscathed.
it's just physics.