III: Greater Good

Where the luminance bounce in the inner linings, something lightens, whether the understanding of old acquaintances, be it the new found connections, that shadows that brought the edges deeper than it already is, completely tucked behind, diminishes with the yielding light, into the darkness. Never to be found. In the stark silence, a quiet click was so loud, then it came, out of no where, the cacophony of of voices, talking, occasionally laughing in a language I could not understand. Strange distinctions, strange familiarities, unknown connections.

Since October skies ceased, days had been inconsistent, dreams of random nightmares, haunting in sequences. Sleep is scarce, remaining leftovers are satisfaction spent seeking that path that lapse between both worlds, sometimes drifting, unknowingly into the state of unconsciousness, always with a grin. But I refrained, and resisted the transition, often too much. A visceral reaction, to be in control, to subdue that intensity into stillness. Expected, but uninviting. Impossible almost.

Then, If I'm alive, still resisting the form of transformation between various states of consciousness, can you perhaps see now, even when everything is basked in darkness, for night is best to see with not your eyes, but senses, when all else fails; truth emerged with touch and thoughts, the greatest things of all. For during the night, I remember things which I would've otherwise left behind, tucked away by the ethereal noise.

[Being] With you ticked me off, in a way i could hardly understand, Like fire daggers striking in snow covered forest. The truth with you in an ambiguous thing, like a game without rules, word roams without directions, strayed off the path, into wilderness. To understand your mind, I would only dwell in it, to know your thoughts, I'd almost reverse my role, to play beneath a foreign mask, out in the merciless sun. Somehow, I managed, saw what you saw, just fragments, but it was more than enough to piece everything together. The power of memories, one you always seemed to discard (overlook). It was terrifying.

But it seems I find every possible reason, every possible excuse to question you intentions, to question everything that seemed too good. Incomprehensible, at least for me, always hoping to find a clean shirt tucked underneath the filthy laundry. But it did paid off, almost every single time, it appears when you are least expecting it, hits it right home. Perhaps, all this while, you wanted me to tell you everything is okay, or acted as if it were okay. I would, and I have told you that I'm all good, despite everything on the inside suggests otherwise. But I couldn't tell you everything because there are to many things to begin with sometimes I'm just drowned it it.

More than often your naivety, to the point of innocent, ignorance is a blessing I am envious of, because everyone who sees, with their eyes that is, could not possibly be happy about the way things had turned up. And why would anyone be? With you, it's different. You happiness is a result of inept definition of the world according to you, where it does not involve seeing or feeling; ignorance. Where no grief dwells, no regrets felt, not sorry for everything. Why would you?

At this point, you might be thinking, this was all about me, perhaps seeking some sort of remorse, or it was about you, where it all started. But it really isn't.

Neither both.

There is no hostility, there is no hatred, no regrets, with much love.

The anomalies of intentions, no random efforts.

It's all part of the greater good.

I,II

II: The First Thing We Saw, Far, Far Away | The Length of Truth

The clouds gaped and folded, closed across the moon. The night passes by, as the world seemed to disappear all together into the stale, soporific air. The rain finally stopped, as if to make way for the cold lightnings, no sounds, just constant flashes of harsh, blinding lights against the canvas of pure darkness. And you awoke, out of darkness that was not sleep, not dream, but something beyond the comforting sight, magnificent, pointing steadily towards the promise. In that stroke of light, the cradle of a future emerged, vaguely on the hindsight. Hope stretched far across the sea, drawing the outline of the past, dark silhouettes are now gone, the sea, visible glimmering waves, vanishes into a thin line, touching the sky above.

I remember the truth, like the warm and humid September nights, sublime agony and a million dotted lines the sweat once trickled. The vine grew after the rain, snakes up the barren land, within the gaps that split open like fresh wound. Rooted freshly at the tip of the ground, drawing moisture, dissipates heat, a container where the inevitable occurs. How many nights spent, watching the trees shiver in the midnight breeze? The perfect stillness, an after image of the future, captured in the thin glow.

The fool within us slowly stepping into murky waters, to strangle truth, to bend and twist, as if to drown it with force, every limbs, every strengths, every muscles conjured. The truth is undeniable, it is a great power that is able, and must exist on it's own without binding to any sort of beliefs and definitions., despite individual perceptions. The absolute is the same for everyone, regardless place, time or culture. With you, however, the truth is an ominous thing, your voice that promises that same thing, darted from that point of origin, torn and beaten up, long lost, confounded.

The perfect stillness outside is now gone, the whistling wind seeps through the window pane, the fluttering curtain fabric, the notion is clear. Through the window glass. A dozen trees strummed by strong merciless wind, sand and tiny pebbles flew, carried by angry ghosts. Loose pores sinks deeper, skeletons revealed. Destruction, deadly - just when normal life felt almost possible, when the world held some kind of meaning, when order finally fell into place - even some strange loveliness, it haunts, consuming it's own debris, to fortify and manifest it own existence, finally exploding brighter than ever.

I admire the length you go, just to obscure, or even manipulate the truth when you know it better, it finds it's way out eventually. Regardless the great lies you made up, or the layers of beliefs you stacked up upon, it takes the form of time, shaping it existence. The infusion of boundless chaos, injected upon controlled order, the world according to you.

That glimpse - not the imposing dark figures, not the towers raising steadily ahead, but that blistering light into the future. The wonderful feeling to be caught up in hope and deadly expectations. One step forward, to dive below, everything falls into perspective.

The first thing we saw, far, far away, nothing mere than unfulfilled fantasies. That little dream, as wide as night, deeply rooted in our vulnerability, filling all inadequacies with made up realities.

Hence we landed,

feet on flames.

Burnt into ashes,

in the light of day.

I

I : Well-Worn Shoe | The Foundations of Truth

It was rather accommodating, though it tends to get dirtier in one of these nights than any other, and every time, I’d scorn as if I never understood. Often in this light I’d be awake starring out in the dark. And it is darker in one of these nights than any other and every time, I’d wail just a little, just enough to shed a little of its weight. It is often vague, and when I’m lucky, it reflects vivid light and reveals an image. I’d stare as if I’ve seen it before. The familiarity is unmistakable, although I cannot begin to fathom the reflections of what it is; supposedly real. I’m only guessing.

Towers raising still and solid above the earthly rock, thunder blares and streaks followed by rains pouring in bucketfuls. Many nights since then have become a ritual of guessing, a million riveting thoughts penetrating its wall, eventually feeling unsatisfied, confounded. It is extremely easy to be confined by everything that is beyond us, taunted by a shadow of cosmic proportions. A wronged journey could send towers crumbling from above the earthly rock, imminently shattering every foundations of truth, revealing the barren ground it once stood.

There, your figure emerged behind the pillars, standing at the edge of the top of your tower, so high it vanishes into the clouds, swallowed by the moonless sky, and yet your shadow, dark against dark, outlined only by intermittent strikes of lighting. But you, your hands clad in silver lining that glows and sparkles, rested firmly on the pillars, stood still and proud looking down, smirk on your face, unshaken by the blares and flames of neighboring towers, crashing down, burnt to ashes and red hot glowing rocks.

I wish I were you, I wish I were exactly like you, so I could penetrate your thick mind, so I could read everything that’s hidden so well in the basement of your thoughts. I wish we traded shoes, just so you could feel the ground underneath your feet, stumble and fall because of the untied lace, hurt and bleed, just so I could understand how hard it must have been to walk tall and proud, all alone, dismissing the most innocent gaze, even, even hidden underneath that shield.

Your foundations are of immaculate artistry, however strong yet brittle, never fails, even under the enormous weight it held upon, constructed upon layers of confidence, perpetuates a truth that lies, to fill a void with gaps, defiance of sanctity, everything imagined.

My well worn shoes, they brought me close, so close to you – just like the first thing we saw for the very first time, far, far away.

Just a glimpse, it was strangely reassuring.

It was only meant to be.

I think my blog is a rather accurate indication of just how busy my life gets. Amidst my unbelievably hectic working schedule, I’m here blogging because when I say I’m back, I really mean I’m back. But to be fair, I just nailed the Shell’s renovation project and “Bintulu Waterfront shoplots” project – YAWN, so I think it’s safe for me to murmur a very soft sigh of relieve that it’s finally over. There, I just said the ill-fated word. It’s not like I haven’t learnt the fact that it’s never over, I might as well just chill while I can. Though, I know I’m about to piss people off. There’s still so much work ahead of me. By the way, I’m really trying to hard sell myself these days, because I’m thinking about taking a leap of faith. Ahem. I don’t anything know yet, but I just might. I think it’s probably about time.

* * * * * *

I think the shop-lots are just plain dumb and people are getting clever with the names these days – “Open malls”, “Outdoor Mall” , “Shopping Village”. How fucking lame is that. The thing is no matter how interesting people try to name these shop-lots, it’s not going to make the concept any more exciting than it already is. The problem I have with these shop-lots is that the planning itself is a waste of space. It creates too much useless in-between spaces that will inevitably turn into smelly back alleys in the long run and finally when the whole place eventually runs down it creates another slum block in the city. If anything, it just doesn’t provide an otherwise appealing shopping environment at all. “Shopping Village” apparently. Are you fucking kidding me?

I was on my routine surfing today and I came across a rather interesting piece of article - 17 Jobs That Are Guaranteed to Get You Laid . Apparently - Architects are on the top of the list. Now I really don’t know what to make of it, but I do love the idea that architects are sexy beings. Take that, other jobs chronic masturbators!

* * * * * *

I was given two fish tanks couple of weeks ago, and it’s still lying around the car porch. I’m yet to clean it – and it’s so dirty it’s shameful. Then I will have to fill it with water and start all over the new-tank-cycle process before I can put any fish in. Longer story short – it’s a long process, and I have no time for it. - It sucks.

I was thinking of just leaving the tank outside, so I don’t have to move anything inside the house just to accommodate the new tank. Too much work. Mom said if I were to place the tank on that particular spot I picked, I’d have to paint the wall first; otherwise, I’d have to move the tank again if we decided to paint it just right before Chinese New Year, which would suck even more because people get cranky during spring cleaning. And I’m not about to move the fucking tank anywhere once it’s up and running because moving a 4 feet tank takes some real muscles and I ain’t got that. So really, the only viable option I can think of is really just leave the tank outside at the car porch and move my fish there. The good thing about this is that I won’t have to worry about the fish splashing water all over the place when she throws a tantrum every now and then. But again, since I don’t live in a posh neighborhood, people here have the tendency to steal things – pets included so it’s not entirely that safe to have the tank outside. I can’t decide.

By the way, I’ve committed a sin so big - I could never look myself in the mirror again, I’m ashamed of myself. Yesterday after dinner, mom told me there are cakes in the fridge and asked if I wanted any. So I asked what kind of cake. And she went on and dropped the shameful bomb at me – that her girlfriends at work bought her those delicious cakes because it was her birthday the day before.

and I was like SHIT !!!

I guess there’s no point I bitch and moan about how sorry I am right now. I’ll make it up to her, and when I say I will, damn right I will.

In the mean time – I’m off to get laid.

The architect’s style.

Damn right I am.

I Haze U

I was going to be just a tad insightful tonight but I decided not to because the haze is so bad that my sight is compromised. So much for my attempt at making funnies. No. This has nothing to do with the haze, yuck, although I must say the air taste a little horrible these days. Yes, the haze is so dense it’s literally tangible and chocking up my lungs. It’s not exactly the kind of air I’d want to breathe all day. Oh, think about the people around me. They have been thinking exactly the same thing for years. Isn’t it great now that everyone’s a second hand smoker? People really should stop whining about those who smoke. But I digress.

I don’t get much work done these days. It’s funny because I’m literally swamped at work it’s driving me bonkers and yet I don’t get much done. When I say done, I meant getting things completed without having the hassle of following up at another time. Seriously, I do a lot, more than I ever had in my entire career. Like WHOA. But apparently, not enough to complete, and I am eminently depressed by it. It seemed like I’m engaging in some desultory tasks, one minute I’m doing this, just one step away from completing it, I get thrown another that requires immediate attention. I stopped, and I move on, then I get thrown another one, then some time during that, I’d have to go back and catch up with the earlier projects.

It’s confusing I know, and seriously, if one task takes at least a day to complete, three tasks would then require at least three days to complete, and that made me wonder just how many tomorrow can one have in one day because I get asked to do three different things in a day that is needed tomorrow. And if one would put a little effort in using common sense, they’d probably realize that it’s entirely impossible unless I have three tomorrows at a same time. Very interesting theory (Inner inner monologue). Some people really love to push it. That’s some world class stupid right there.

Oh, just forget everything. I’m one cranky bitch fighting off the mid-life crisis, and I’m only 25. Ever wonder why they call it premature?

Enough already.

Curtin Graduation '09

Hello elites.

Congratulations guys.

..and so it is.

Finally called it off.

And to the act of desertion, of which no one is to blame entirely for all things to fall apart, I know I had it coming, knew it all to well. I'm not too sure if it'd hit me totally just yet, I am feeling strangely calm and composed, or which at least, I'd expect myself to throw a tantrum, or at least I thought I would feel my heart pumping so hard that it would just literally jump out of my skin. But non of it.

Gosh, one year and I am standing right there to see the bane of it, and yet there is so little I could do to save it. Honestly though, I almost feel like I've shed an unbearable weight off my shoulder, finally being able to catch a breather from the feeling of living on the edge, almost every minute of it. But soon as I've finally said this, I could feel one forging just right about now, slowly creeping onto my shoulder again. I hated the process, it sucked, and it hurts like hell. It's almost like when you feel that you are just about to get out of a dark tunnel and into the light, only to find yourself at the beginning of another one.

Really, I am so afraid to go to bed tonight because I know that as soon as I close my eyes, depression is going to find it's way into me and it's going to plague my entire system the next day. It might have given me nightmares too, or I'd wake up to a train-wreck. I'm not too sure, but I am definitely not anticipating the possibility of waking up in piles of relationship debris, and there is so much to clean up when there's work to be done, when there's life to live on. Ah, there goes again, the process of putting up a fake smile for everyone like life is perfectly beautiful, when in reality I just wished everyone would just fuck the hell out of my face. Perfect.

And so it hurts, and it hurts deeper, and it gets better, and then it gets worst again, but seriously, just how bad can it get? I am yet to find out. But now, I need to keep moving - to just keep moving and leave it behind a little at a time.

All I know, when a heart's broken, carrying on bravely is the easiest thing to do.

After all, it's just another chronicles of a broken Beaker.

...and the Things We Know

They finally sent someone to repair the flush in the toilet at my office that stopped functioning ever since I started working there - which I thought was ironic enough since we are moving into a new office in about a month. But before it got fixed, the only way to flush is to manually turn the valve and let the water fill up every time we had to use the toilet. And having developed the habit of doing so for the past two years, now, even after it has been fixed for almost two weeks, funnily enough, I find myself reaching out trying to turn the valve every single time I use the toilet.

And having said that, does it in some sense justifies how our conscious and subconscious minds interact, and how it sometimes influences our behavior that we are truly not aware of, or is it merely just a end-product of a certain habit that we've adapted. We understood that our mind tends to interpret very different things than our heart does (metaphorically speaking), and most of the time, it sways one subject matter into two very opposite directions, two very contradicting truth. It takes either one to makes sense, one that justifies our reactions, and one that we often give in that reflects our decisions.

It's something like two minds doing thinking on a parallel platform – but specifically ones of opposing qualities that manifests on our actions that is significantly different from what we have in mind. Often we tends to consciously define things practically with our mind, that process of making sense, process of understanding a very complicated equation and we are very good at that. Given there isn’t a definite truth available, we tend to analyze it and settle on one conclusion that we would happily agree to, followed by a by-product of contradicting realization, if that make any sense at all - it happen to all of us.

It still hurts badly, even after five years, every time I am reminded of the incident discovering Mark’s death. And sometimes it can be extremely scary trying to figure out what you didn’t know. We tend to fabricate, from all the information available, the most viable truth so we could once and for all put a question to rest and find a piece of mind. But none of us knew exactly why. There weren’t any signs of if coming, or had it been so subtly eluded it escapes the slightest ignorance, or even if his last words “I’ll probably ring you” could be the sign, I really should really be looking into ironies of all things.

Solving puzzles, one way or another does ratify my experience of both ends. Puzzles deals with missing information from given information, and all the collected missing bits would, in the end, form a complete picture – and we all are truly aware of that, regardless how it’s being solved, there will be a definite answer. While some can get extremely difficult and frustrating, I do find it positively motivating to complete the puzzles, and even if I can’t, I would just put it away because the answer is certainly not going any where.

But dealing with real life problems is a completely different story – that involves all sorts of information darting in from all sorts of scenarios and it really isn’t funny when it’s one of those that don’t have a definite answer. And it made me wonder endlessly into chains of thoughts, even to the core of all things that seemed related, but still, I couldn’t make sense of it all – just how strangely everything played out. As much as I understand that no matter how deep I try to figure it out, there won’t be a definite answer, I find myself, subconsciously playing things out in the back of my head interminably, trying to think it over and over again, my mind reasoning my doubts, and my heart contradicts the facts – until it hurts so bad that the last option available is to give in and let it fade as time passes.

Too often, this is where I fail when my mind gives in – most of the time I let my heart win, when all the frustration is kicking in and finding answers to no avail. But honestly, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. Isn’t it what people say, always listen to your heart, - which I find that amazingly true. If you listen closely, you heart can tell you everything that you needed to know, and it drives you to do the most extraordinary unthinkable things, but there is also the risk of getting everything completely wrong.

And right now I am at the point where I could no longer tell right or wrong apart, everything seemed to have sunk into murky water, when truth doesn’t matter anymore. And so I waited, aimlessly pondering into the night, doing absolutely nothing but hoping time would eventually clear thing up for me. I had to stop. It's getting far too complicated. Yet it seems so simple.

Maybe, Tomorrow,

I have a journal hidden under the desk for almost two years now.

I always chose to leave empty the first page before I start writing, thought I don’t exactly know why but I always did, so much as I would leave empty the first page of a new exercise book, so much I would leave empty the first page of a new drawing pad, much like how I would leave empty the part about me to people around me. It’s a gesture, it’s like the only thing that I could control, and what is going to happen beyond that blank page would be an arcanum waiting to unfold itself. Though I’m not sure, I’m not sure…

I don’t keep journals anymore.

Like, ever since I realize the whole point of keeping a personal record is a form of addiction and crave for nothing but self-pity. I don’t have a lot of time for self – pity because I think I’ve had enough of myself and I am constantly wondering how people put up with me everyday. I have always thought I’m paranoid. If you read my journals, you would know. I would write my entries so detailed down to every single bit of information but in such a vaguely manner so that if someone happen to stumble upon my journal and read it, they would have no idea what it was about.

I think I am emotionally inert when it comes to the relationship department. The idea of closure to me is like a ticking time bomb and I would be the detonator that sets if off. It freaks me out all the time. I carry a past with me that I am not willing to share with people even those closest to me because it would’ve made me vulnerable. No. It’s not okay. But what worries me the most is the idea that I would drive someone I cared so much away if I won’t be able to share everything.

I am missing someone terribly right now, yes.

I hate to admit that because I find it hard to digest all the things that have happened at the speed things are moving right now, and most of it, I hate to think that I’m missing someone for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes, it’s hard to put your mind on things that turned out too good to be true. It can be good, I think it’s a good thing, and I wanted it to be good but my prescient at work is telling me this would probably end up in a self-destructive heart-breaking way. Honesty, I hope that things would work out because it would finally give me something to look forward to.

I am ideally romantic, (behold your nausea, not the candle-light-dinner-romanticism, but you never know what I am capable of.) That said, it’s probably the perfectionist inside me that has gotten the best of me. I have a beau ideal inside my head of how things should work out, stubbornly adhering to my very own idée fixe that is, at times further from the reality. So when things start to turn out a little off the meme, I would get paranoid, distract and lost. And because of that it would only be legit if I were slightly delusional. That is also why I am a naturally talented cynical pessimist who doesn’t believe in miracles. I cannot be optimistic when I don’t know how things are going. I hate to start something, because I don’t know where I would end up and I know as soon as I embark upon the ride, I would start thinking about the terminus more that I would have been enjoying the process. It isn’t like airplane rides where it takes you from point A to point B with interstice of nothing but air and clouds.


Oh, I am writing this, I’m not sure why, and I don’t know where I’m going with this. I hated the feeling. It had to go somewhere, it had to make sense. It’s not making sense, it’s not making sense, it’s not making any sense….. it’s not mak…..

Press CTRL + Z to Undo

Don't we all just love the undo command? Every time I did something wrong, I just simply press ctrl-z and waa laa, I just undid the parts I wish to delete. But there are times when I was just so immersed in finishing my work only to realize that I've made a mistake somewhere along the way and finding myself pressing the keyboard like a mad man to find out where did I make the mistake. And by the way, did you know the amount of times you can undo on one application is actually based on how much memory that program is used to store the working history? Some let you undo 50 times, some let you undo 5 times, some doesn't even undo. And when you chances of undoing ended before you managed to recover those many wrongs, wouldn't you just close the application and start from scratch again? Or perhaps just leave it because you can't be fucked anymore. For me, both, depending on the scenario of course.

Fickle

Despite the best intentions in the world, despite the sweetest promises made in moments of passion, people change, relationships drift and fade and people move on. This I know is true, and there's nothing I can do about it but to see it fall apart. I tried.

Remind me next time if I stand too close, sometimes I get a little too comfortable.

Hell NO!

Having 2 bosses is pretty much like, having two mothers, although I've never had two moms before, but I suppose it'd be kind of ummph and ugggh.

But of course, I'm referring to my bosses, I never know which one to follow, especially when one of them is never around and another one is always around. I always listen to the one who is always around, just because, you know, he is always around. But when the one that is never around, is around, I have to listen to him, because apparently, I'm like his bitch assistant. And most of the time, the two of them like to contradict each other.

So basically, more often than sometimes, I need to do my work twice, because usually, whenever I have questions for the one that is never around, he is never around, so I need to ask the one who is always around. But, usually, the one who is always around doesn't really know what sort of stuff I'm dealing with, since I'm not his assistant officially, but felt like he is obliged to answer my question, I usually ended up doing something totally different than what the one who is never around expect of me.

Usually, the one who is always around would tell me to just do it, or "It looked alright to me" and then, the one who is never around would usually go, "Wrong! Stop. This is not what I wanted, do you understand what I told you the other day?" And I was like, "but.......the one who is always around said...", but of course I never said this to either one of them, because, one thing I found out about bosses, in general, or people who wanted to become bosses, they usually developed some kind of tumor in their head called SNOB. First, they are never wrong, no matter how wrong they are. Second, they don't take excuses, like buts or uggh, they make everything looked like your fault, and they take credits for things they thought were good, ideas or designs for instance.

The thing is, doing things twice is fine by me, really, when my work schedules aren't too tight. But when both of them contradicts each other, and the client need to see the stuff - you know, any stuff at all, like in two hours, I feel like I'd rather just put a bullet in my head and die.

They have no idea how annoying this is, when it's practically impossible in every single sense in the world to get it done because the time they've given me to finish the whole thing is pretty much like asking me to shit and wipe my ass clean in 30 seconds. Imagine a concept, a full zoning plan, plus a design report with fancy pictures, and some serious writings no one gives a shit about, in two hours, and I'm not talking about some little cottages, I'm talking about something close to urban design of a Cultural center. It's funny because, people like them who have had years of experience still doesn't know how long it would take to prepare things like this. I mean, we all went through hell college, and we know how much time is needed to prepare finals. Cut the design process - it would've taken at least 2 or 3 days to come out with a barely decent presentation. Of course, there is always another option of presenting a D grade report, no worries, but I'd rather slit my throat than make myself do something so unimaginably horrid. It's just the kind of a shame I cannot deal with.

Independence and Imperfection.

It rained again tonight.

Little drops that mangled into strays of bursting light and vanishes into smokes and ashes before touches the ground I stood. It was, really, a spectacular night tonight, relentlessly blinding with unforgiving beauty.

There's too much, the eyes, once blinded, adapt and acclimatise, then we start feeling the space we all stood, the space between us, the proximity between us, emitting bodily heat.

Light keeps on bursting, rains keep pouring, merciless, even in a deluge of people, almost everyone is experiencing the moment through their view finder, or their cellphone, collecting megapixel memories. But yet, strangely enough tonight, it was just the four of us.

Merdeka. For me, for Us, for our country

Feeling the moment slip away like a flowing tap, footsteps fast and steady, we run like little kids in rain. We sat down sipping our drinks with water dripping from our forehead, out shirt wet and damp, and it doesn't bother us. We laughed at the drama that was on TV, it doesn't bother us. It was nostalgic, jump back 7 years, when we used to parade in rain, when life is too simple to bother us. It made me realize, our life falls apart, our day differs, we age, we move on, but there's a small part inside that remains untouched, the one that never grow up.

And I am on burst-fire mode.

Grumpy, like thick, dense, greyish clouds before the storm. Unfortunately, the world doesn't stop when Tsunami hit's Indonesia, and the world doesn't stop when Katrina wiped New Orleans. Why should our world stop because you decided to pull a dark cloud over your face? No, I don't have a girlfriend that resides thousand miles away, and no, I certainly do not understand what it felt like to have a girlfriend resides thousand miles away, life must be so hard for you. Life is hard for me to. How do we compare? How do we measure? At least I don't try to make the world stop for me.

Funny isn't it? Having a girlfriend/ boyfriend overseas is like the best reason of all time you could always use when you feel like ditching your friends. I could only imagine. Now I understand the peril of technology. Apparently, its true that people would choose a cellphone over a human.

I have been sick, I took a zap yesterday afternoon and I was practically paralyzed the whole day, I stayed in bed, but come night falls, the idea of going out excites and I feel better again. I was sick this morning, because apparently, I have a nasty infection on my throat, but, I make an effort to go out. What's worst than being sick is being alone, at home. It has always worked for me that way, when I'm sick, I go out, I enjoy myself, and guess what, I feel so much better. I try not to miss out, because it'd by my lost if I did, and even if I did, I don't complain, like some people does. It's daft, because they think the world, it actually revolves around them and not the sun.

Don't get me wrong, I am not sick of you, maybe one day when I'm sick of cigarettes, I will. But that is not going to happen any time soon. I'm just annoyed, like sometimes, I am annoyed how expensive cigarettes are these days, but I still buy them, and I still need them.

It all boils down to one conclusion, happiness is not rocket science, sometimes, being with the right people, at the right time is happiness. It's spontaneous. That said, thank you for disappearing today. I just cannot imagine how much of a burden it would've been for us to put up with your shit face the entire night. You just did us all a big favor. Thank you. Thank You.

Imperfection is life,

I know,

That is why, at the end of the day, we pretend,

We pretend nothing ever happened,

Everything falls back into place.

And that scares me.

Temptations.

The night craws beyond the thick clouds, moonlight penetrates trough the dense moist layers, diffused and scattered over the misty air. Street lamps shone harsh, shadows on the ground kept still, small drops of rain cripples the form of darkness, blurred edge and head zipped in the drain, body's upside down, the air would not suffice.

The streets, they are narrow, cars parked both sides, opposite faced. The streets, they are empty, doors sealed shut, windowpane rusts, and glazed with thick secrets too dark for the night. The trees, the cars, the buildings, the people and their thoughts ricochet and swirl. All the nasty stains, they will come out.

The ground I once stood, flutters, they crack, and they break. The lights on the street skimming voiceless souls. Silence dribbles in opulence, body stood still on the makeshift platform, minds wonders, too painful to bear, much like tiny red hot glowing needles penetrating the skull.

Nothing to worry about,

I realize I haven't intended to stay this long. Flashlight popped, bodies hurling back and forth. Underneath their feet, the earth vibrated a common joy, and above, white splotches of light, scatters, and they grow, on top of one another, hovering within one another. Arms were flailing widely, mouths chewing hate and spat them out one by one.

If friendship meant obligations, I'd rather not have one.

Toilet Bowl for your Head

Haven't been up top much lately, but I feel the sudden urge to bitch about something that really bugs me.

Enough is enough,

Some people, they fucking annoy me when they like to pretend they know a lot of shit, when the truth is, all they know is how to shit from their mouth. For example, I know some people are gadget-goers, they know a lot about gadgets, they follow the news, they have websites of gadgety news bookmarked, and pretty much made it a routine to check in on a daily basis, now thats fine by me, they love technology, so do I. But apparently some people, they like to think that they know a lot of shit, when they accidentally flipped across a show that showcases the latest gadgets, or maybe overheard someone talking about some kick ass new mp3 player.

They like to think they are like the social antidote that doesn't get hyped about anything at all, like they are so cool when everyone is excited about the latest shit, they pretend like they don't care, when, really, they secretly lust over it and spend hours on the internet digging informations and pictures about it, which can be really sad because most of the times, these people, they could never fit in to any conversations in general because they are like too cool to talk to anyone like, you know, so cool. Usually, people of this kind, they simply cannot resist the temptation to let everyone know just how much shit they have in their head, very opinionated, and love to contradict with the majority.

Exhibit A: At the cinema lobby with a lot of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory posters.

Girl A: OMG, this is coming out next month, I so wanna watch it lahhhh, (girl pointing at the Charlie poster)

Guy who knew everything: Cheh, not nice wan. Stupid wan lah.

Girl A: How you know leh, you watch alredy mehhhhh???

Guy who knew everything: Cheh, I donwan to watch. For kids wan lah.



Exhibit B: iTV is so whatever

Guy 1: Did you see that little iTV, it looked really cool lahhhh.

Guy 2: Yah I got see, but I'm not sure what it's for loh.

(Guy who knew everything quickly barged in)

Guy who knew everything: Apple iTV ? , cheh, lousy wan lah.

Guy 1: You use before meh??

Guy who knew everything: You mean the the white white one right? with the apple sign on top that lights up when u turn it on right?

Guy 1: (doh) Yea lah,

Guy who knew everything: Lousy wan larr.

Guy 1: (doh) x 1000


Exhibit C : iPhone is not much better.

Guy A: OMG, I saw the new iPhone intro clip on Youtube last night. Nice chin lehh.

Guy B: Yah I know man, if I got one can hau lien to other people.

(Guy who knew everything quickly barged in)

Guy who knew everything : Eeww, iPhone louya wan larrr.

Guy A: Why, you got meh? You use before meh? If people give you one see you say lousy or not lah.

Guy who knew everything : No, I heard the critics said really bad things about it lah,

Guy A: (doh)x1000

See, need I say more?

Sometimes it's best to just shut the F up when you don't know anything about what people are talking about. Being humble is always the way to go, bragging about this and that, this sucks that lousy made you look like a fucking retard. It's like asking Britney Spears to judge Celine Dion's singing. Muahahaha, good one.

I think someone's gonna hate me for this,

But,

I'm all like,

Totally W.H.A.T.E.V.E.R

Biting dust

My body has finally given up. With all the sleepless nights that I have been going through for the past few months, I'm sicker than a sick puppy. Make any sense? Other than that, things has been little off for me lately, and thats probably why I have been abandoning the blog again. I'm not too sure what is going on. At times I feel lost. Work has been daunting as usual. I could never feel upbeat about it, it's pretty much the same thing everyday, rush, hurry, out of time, change and change and change. I feel like I could throw up in my mouth when I hear these words. I wonder why things would never get better. To be honest, I am really not entirely sure if I am really made for architecture. Things are just so different. What's worst is that I haven't been able to accept the whole idea of being somebody's bitch where I have to adapt to someone else's designing style. It's almost like Norah Jones doing Britney Spear's Baby One More Time. Let's face it, maybe it's a little bit about branding your own style, but when it comes to design, everyone loves to think that they have their own style. Nobody loves to bow down to other people, or adapt to other people. Why do you think EJ would get so pissed when people go about his design with Frank Gehry or Daniel Li-who. Being's people bitch is no fun, when its about controlling your creativity.

Damn, life sucks, but isn't why we love it so much. If life doesn't suck, then what fun?

In the mean time, sometimes, it doesn't really suck that much. Third installment to one of my favorite movie of all time, looking hot.

A Fleeting Beauty

And so I ran, I ran like rats, moving forward, maneuver into the darkness, falling down, getting up again. Slipping and sliding. Afraid to look back over my shoulder, fearing I’d see the past haunting me, grinning that grin, and watching me with those red eyes. The trick, I heard, is to move forward, swift and steady, just move forward, don't stop, don't stare. And this is what I believed.

I awoke abruptly from the noise of the blinds hitting the wall without mercy. I slowly crept out of the bed and closed the window. The ticking clock sitting on the nightstand told me it’s 4 in the morning. I have been out for almost 2 hours. I went back to bed but I could not fall asleep. My mind is calm and the room is silent except for the sound of vehicle rustling outside and the soothing noise of rainfalls hitting the solid ground. I closed my eyes but my mind wouldn’t shut. I stare into darkness, I listen to silence and my mind is calm, for the very first time since I got back, a few weeks earlier even. Things had happened so fast and so unsympathetically left me out of breath, left me with no time to ponder, no where to fall, no where to pick myself up, hard and firm, befuddled, almost unimaginable. Bad things happened, just like that, right in my face. And now, I wished this calmness would never have to end, but I knew I only had few hours before my fear rose like the burning sun that would wipe away the dream that I had stopped fighting for, like a kiss of death, a moment of solitude is the moment of my demise.

Exactly one year ago, today, 5th May, I got my first degree in Architectural field. It was a big day for me I supposed. Up until now, I still find it fascinating, the graduation, everything about it. People say it’s a milestone. The progression, was excruciatingly memorable, a journey of my life thus far, a shorted version, but action packed nevertheless, only the goods one got the cuts. It feels like, everything, in my 22 years of life just came rushing back at me with each step I took , almost too overwhelming for my head to register and beyond the grasp of my mind. Mostly, it was fear doing it’s trick, fear taking control of me, fear of doing the wrong thing, as much as I knew that it's the point where it ends, and indication of a something new to come, and I feared, knowing my curiosity is perking above my forehead, hoping to find the slightest clue to what is coming onto me. I realize, despite the sudden discontent, it was the first time, and the only time I am so willingly let my subconscious drives me, let my ego off guard. I was proud.

Walking the walk, as the crowd went dissembled to receive flowers and cheers from families and friends, as the progression got closer to it’s destination, I began to lose direction, bothered by the people who cheered on the streets, these cheers, were like those they gave the enemy. Everywhere, I see people who looked at me with my own eyes, who spoke to me with my own voice, who greeted me with the same mistrust with which I greeted them. I looked across my shoulder and found my family cheering for me. The smile on my aunt’s face that I have despised for years suddenly seemed strangely alienated. The smile, seemed like a devil’s grin and it haunts me. My gazed, however was fixed on my dad. He was the only person there that I cared; no matter how much I hated to admit this. I found myself subconsciously scrutinizing his every facial movement, hoping to find a sheer joy, and it was in his smile, subtly reassuring, and that’s the only thing that I needed. Reassurance. But his eyes hinted a sadder story, between the brief smiles, I could see little pieces of sadness. It was something that had not been there, something that I didn’t expect to find in those eyes that I have seen almost my entire life. It was then I realize just how much it had hurt him for not being able to put me thorough the five year course, It was at that moment I understood, and I realize just how much he cared.



I knew there were people who are genuinely happy for me, that I am moving onto something new, that I had chosen another path, instead of staying. These faces that I have seen literally on a daily basis, day and night, at worst, at best, through trials and tribulations, for 3 years are like a piece of immaculate carving, permanently marked onto my heart. Their eyes, when I look inside, I find warmth and comfort, I find a place I recognize, their words, were like beats of rhythm, again and again chanting in my mind, a soft whisper, life has its own rhythm, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and at other time, it’s just right. It’s all about stepping along the right beats.And, I probably had taken a step ahead of the rhythm, after all, the only regrets I had is knowing that I am unable to reach the other side with everyone who I have fought together. I crossed too early, fell too hard.

It was weird; the whole experience was mind bogglingly scary. This, was probably an opportunity of a lifetime, the only time where I could feel proud about myself alter all these years of reckless fighting, all these years of mishaps. A war I have brought upon myself, and had fought hard. I knew, at the back of my heart that I am able to walk out of the place and end the battle. But the battle would only be fought again. Again and again until the will to fight is vanished. The only way to end this completely was to realize that it wasn’t about winning or losing the war, it was reconciliation, with me, coming into terms with my own fears, and inevitably, I have.

As much as I’ve come to hate it, as much as I have spent my time dwelling in my regrets, it was a fleeting beauty – the first step to an endless road. An interlude to my life, followed by unknown future. Life in all it’s orderly dimensions, like the rhythm that beats. These beats, will scatter, and it will resonates, like the everlasting wish to discover the lamp what will light the path of my future.

And so I ran, I ran like rats, moving forward, maneuver into the darkness, falling down, getting up again. Slipping and sliding. Afraid to look back over my shoulder, fearing I’d see the past haunting me, grinning that grin, and watching me with those red eyes. The trick, I learnt, however, in order to look forward, I need to look back. The past contains traces of my existence, and it’s the only thing that could fuel my courage to move ahead. Without the past, it would be the bane of my existence.

A personal shout out to a dear friend of mine over at Auckland, Miss Diu who will be graduating in just a few days. Man, I am so excited for you. Congratulations and all the best in your future. I wish I could've been there to witness you don your cap but either way, best wishes from me and welcome to the real world, though I am pretty sure you've already met our new pal, Misery :).

Chronicles of 奔奔奔!

University life is really picking up a few paces lately, becoming more hectic as weeks goes by. There are so little time to do so many things - that, and personal issues that demands sorting out.  How I wish I could 奔奔奔 away from all these problems right now. Not going to happen, I know.

Read more »

Paranoid Humanoid

I'm getting my body checked tomorrow and I'm really worried now.

Who knows what I have gotten myself into. Probably some kind of weird, uncurable sickness, for fucks sake I dont even want to think about it. Seriously, I'm so freaked out now, I can't stop biting my nails. I dont think I'll even have the guts to climb the stairs up to health centre.

Oh, fuck it.

Fingers crossed.

Sente Cosí Buono !

Oh gosh!  First day back at school. Its fucking great to see everyone again. At least it keeps my from feeling bored. Hope everything is going well this year without too much hassles.

Sente Cosí Buono !