This is what my holiday is reduced to. Really. *Sigh*
French Kiss
Bridget JOnes Diary
Going the Distance
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Failure to Launch
Runaway Bride
Sense And Sensability
Knocked up
Sixteen Candles
You Again
Jerry Maguire
The Wedding Singer
When Harry Met Sally
Men Who Stare at Goats
The Last Stastion
The Social Network
Maid in Manhattan
***
Top Gun
Runaway Bride
A Life Less Ordinary
Benny & Joon
Haeun Khon Restaurant at the 3rd Floor of Amcorp Mall.
> I had Kimchi Jjikae. Kimchi Soup set with rice and several side dishes. And cold Japanese green tea. I liked the stall with it's simple tables and chairs with just enough space for a tray for eat person. The decorations were old, authentic and maybe slightly tacky. It's comforting. The waiters are, for some reason, all guys wearing jeans, vest and bow ties. It seemed slightly tea shop/bakery shop/host club. =D
The Big Bad Wolf Sale at the South City Plaza.
> Turns out to be easier to go to than I thought it would be. After lunch I took the train to KL Sentral and took the KTM to Serdang. Then it's the T416 bus to the South City Plaza. When I arrived my eyes just bulged in surprise. It was so big. A whole gigantic hall filled with books. And people buying them books too. I didn't know what to get. I methodically swept every single table and piled up and collected two boxes of books. I spent hours just sitting down and sifting through my pile and chose and chose which books to buy. It was such a hard decision. I ended up with 29 books. It ended up being RM202. Honestly I couldn't help myself. There's so much more I'd get really.
I will be reading these:
The Discworld Graphic Novels by Terry Pratchett
Avalon High Coronation: Volume 1 by Meg Cabot
Avalon High Coronation: Volume 2 by Meg Cabot
Avalon High Coronation: Volume 3 by Meg Cabot
Man in the Dark by Paul Auster
The Seventh Tower (Book 1) The Fall by Garth Nix
The Seventh Tower (Book 2) Castle by Garth Nix
The Seventh Tower (Book 3) Aenir by Garth Nix
The Seventh Tower (Book 4) Above the Veil by Garth Nix
The Seventh Tower (Book 5) Into Battle by Garth Nix
The Seventh Tower (Book 6) The Violet Keystone by Garth Nix
The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
Between the Assasination by Aravind Adiga
Magic Flute by Eva Ibbotson
Dreamhunter: Book One of the Dreamhunter Duet by Elizabeth Knox
Dreamquake: Book Two of the Dreamhunter Duet by Elizabeth Knox
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon
The Season by Sarah MacLean
The Savage by David Almond
The Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie
The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Making History by Stephen Fry
Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn
Brilliance of the Moon by Lian Hearn
The Harsh Cry of the Heron by Lian Hearn
Heaven's Net is Wide by Lian Hearn
(All I'm missing of the Tales of the Otori is the second book! Grass for His Pillow. I've got a long history with this book and it stretches all the way back in the library at UK. Sweet sweet memories. )
There's a reason for everything. And there's a reason why I stopped. I'm going to be honest now. I like being honest. It's just so much more easier being innocent.
I haven't been happy. Therefore here, my cornerstone of happiness, there is nothing to be happy about. I feel old, weighed down by perceived maturity, and sad, feeling neglected by a whole spectrum of humanity. Besides, I doubt that anyone misses me. Not many read this blog in the first place.
And I have my moods. My highs and lows. And I've figured out a long time ago about how petty my emotions are. They're nothing. And yet I end up thinking about it and probably caring about it more than anything else in the world. But that's just wrong. And selfish. Oh, how wholeheartedly selfish. But I don't feel like I have anything better to do.
I look at my lackluster days and try to figure out what it is that I need to put some colour in my life. And probably it's because I don't have a purpose. I don't have that something you work for, something to die for, to give me more structure in my life than my whim. I'm tired of living like this but it's the easiest way to go on.
Call me a sad specimen of humanity, but I've given up on people. Yes, already. I'm not sure if it's because I've been reading too much of the Malay Male to have been influenced by his worldview but I've given up on people, society, friends, family. The way I see it is I'm just not cut out for it. Nobody wants me, and because of that I feel hurt. I may be a pompous ass for saying so but I am. In order not to feel hurt anymore, I give up on feeling. I give up on reliance. I give up on expecting anything from anyone at all. Or at least I'm trying.
I don't know anymore if it's just self pity, or if I'm really a sad sad human being. I've tried smiling to myself at odd times, but it's honestly nothing more than a grimace, a grotesque distortion of my face. But it doesn't really matter, there is no one to watch it after all.
I wonder if it would've been different if I was beautiful.
*chuckle*
It's a quiet night with rain on the side ,
And a steaming mug of hot tea too.
Waiting for you come back home,
And sit beside me in a cozy room.
There is a great book beside the lamp,
A squashed sofa with a cushion or two,
Take a moment to rest by my side,
Rest your eyes and feel at home.
The picture is still hung crooked on the wall,
The house still cluttered with junk,
There might still be the stain on the carpet,
But this home is still my haven,
This is where I belong.
... was kind of cheesy.
You told a lie and got on a plane.
The heart of the Empire State.
The empty deck: No one was waiting for you after all.
She dreamed of love, like storms violent and sunsets resplendent. Like Romeo and Juliet, through the wounds, through the pain, to the death. She dreamed of love that would outlast lifetimes, eternities. She dreamed of love imagined and love beyond imagination. It is pure, it is true, it is filled with passion. And no matter what happens they will always be happy. And that's what matters the most.
As love lies dying, bleeding endlessly on the hard wooden floors, her scarlet lips moves in a whisper. "Love never dies." But all it took was one bullet to her heart; a hole that couldn't heal fast enough. It ripped through her fragile form, throwing her down in disarray, her hair fans out, her limbs helter skelter. And yet she manages to rise up slightly and look at him in the eye and spits her revenge. And as the light of life slowly drains out of her eyes he watches and wonders if it was he who was truly dead instead.
In a world of everyone wanting to be famous for the sake of famous... And not actually feel like doing anything in particular... (And actually deeply steeped in this culture and emotion) Has brought me to this petty debacle of how to manage being spectacular and try not to be entirely shallow and lacking of verve and wit...
(To Be Continued)
The Lightning Strikes a Hundred Million Suns and Stars.
Just overwhelm me.
Worry not everything is sound. This is the safest place you've found.
Slowly the day breaks apart in our hands.
Something was bound to go right sometime today, All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us.
It got cold and then dark so suddenly and rained, It rained so hard the two of us were the only thing, That we could see for miles and miles.
And in the middle of the flood I felt my worth, When you held onto me like I was your little life raft, Please know that you were mine as well.
~the occasional warm, sunny days in Italy in January and February.
~the European blackbirds are reputed by Italians to dread cold. When the winter sun shines brightly, however, it immediately perks up and acts as if it owned the world. But as soon as the cold returns, it huddles shivering and miserable.
by John Ciardi's, notes on Dante Alighieri's The Divine Comedy (Purgatory)
The mashup of who I am and who I'd be. The ideas that perpetrate through my dreaming. And the dreams of ideas half-formed and in wistful whirls of smoke and dust. The aspirations of greatness, and the grovelling on dirt.
And I write and I write and I write.
I refuse to wear ALL of them. But for FOUR weeks. I shall wear one. Every weekday.
It shall be done.
Om.
Time and time again.
I find myself angry, I find myself bored.
I'm incomplete, cracked, sad and alone.
I haven't found what I'm looking for.
And often I do not find enough.
Often do I crave.
Often, I fall.
Thunder, thunder, lightning brew,
A pinch of weather just for you,
Rain in torrents, The darkness of the moon,
Be comforted, you will not be harmed in your room.
The night, another shadow of the window,
The cold, another blanket to your warmth,
The pitter patter, a lullaby to put you to sleep,
And all you have to do is wait for dawn.
These words of random build are aspirations of art and abstract feelings. They are of cut and paste assembly and they mean anything; according to whimsy, according to wish. From a generation of song poetry, inspired by curiousity, frustration and innate boredom, not cut out for drawing, acting, drawing or music creation but full of pure emotions, like a supercharged thunderstorm but with no way to let loose with finesse, these lines are my creation built with bloc to bloc language, which is only one, the one I know best but ridden with repitition (for my vocabulary is hardly an ocean) and yet infused with foolish expectations: To inform and steer wisdom while growing wisdom of my own. To inspire, to make wonders, to change a way of thinking, to create a way of life. To knock down a brick wall in the mind and show there's more of it outside. In the end it could be merely to feed a hunger to leave an imprint in the world; a token; a mark of existance; maybe be important to someone.
When friends gather,
From the Malay Male
Inside each person, even boring ones, is a universe. Filled with shit and gems and glittering stars and deep, dark black holes and whatever the fuck. Anything and everything you can ever think of.
He is Bean.
I look at you and what you wear,
Stories that matter ends. Anything that matters ends. It's the end that gives it a meaning.
Tammy and Carl, like hundreds of thousands of people a year, came to Los Angeles to make their dreams come true. Sometimes it happens.
stolen from PostSecret.
He watches the sun rise, watches the sky turn gray, silver, white, he watches the sky turn pink and yellow, he watches the sky turn blue...
I do not believe that one could live, consciously, boring lives.
Cornflakes with Fruit
Only as a person with no desire is apt to be. I am supposed to have the world as my plaything. I live in the age of the Internet and the amazing. Yet I find myself feeling like I have nothing to do at all. And I feel restless, only as someone well rested is bound to feel. I feel wasted, only as someone that is wasting time is sure to feel.
What could possibly take me out of this conundrum? Only thought, and ideas, for now, just seem pretty hard come by. Feeling jaded and out of touch. Feeling stagnant and slowly, even falling behind.
I'm living in the box, take me out of here. I'm living in the box, I need some fresh air.
by Jeffery Deaver
A physician's duty is not just to extend life, it is to end suffering.
-Dr Jack Kevorkian
'wild strawberry place'
A place that is special, the most special place there is.
A place where life is... an epiphany.
Like that very quiet room in the Kunsthistorisches Museum where the Vermeers are. Or that marvelous bit where the flute plays that golden music at the beginning of L'apres-midi d'un faune. The nave of the King's College chapel at Evensong. The place in the Prater behind the hunting lodge where the first scillas come in spring. The garden act of Figaro. The Lippizzaners doing a capriole, in the winter, when there's no one there.
This place, now... any place that they were together would be such a place, be it a railway station, a rainy street...
-From Magic Flutes by Eva Ibbotson
Love New Romantic by Laura Marling
If I tell you my opinion, I'm pretty sure you would listen. But then after you do listen, do you value my point of view? Or like a tissue you throw it to the side and forget that you ever used it. Leaving traces, but no memories. Pretty petty, and useless don't you think?
And so in that case it's better off if I don't say anything at all. Don't even think of saying what I'm thinking. Don't even share my paltry words.
Or better yet, don't pretend to hear the sound of my voice. Don't even pretend to care. Which heartache is worse for wear?
Or even worse my thoughts are air. Worse than rubbish, worse than crap. Does it come with no substance, no point, no use? Is it even worth spilling, worth thinking? Could I be a disgrace? A joke? A loon?
Cursing moments, cursing selves, cursing everything that has brought you to this place. Cursing the inelegence of your stumbling mouth. Cursing fate, cursing doom. Simply cussing.
Inane, inanimate objects are glorified to being more then they ever should be. How condescending the thought don't you think? Don't you agree?
(I don't mean anything by it at all. Honest.)
'...according to my observation of life, no woman, unless she be a freak, thinks with freedom.'
Again, like all women who have never known what it is to fall in love, she was sensible of a persistent yearning for something wholly undefined. There was nothing that she actually lacked, yet she seemed to lack everything.
'Time either flies like a bird or crawls like a snail.'
'Self surrender, you think, is an easy thing?'
'... seek the arms of Morpheus.'
'But you have brought me yourself,' she rejoined. 'And that is the best bringing of all.'
'... Yet a man will still become depressed, and yearn for company, even though he may curse it when he has got it.'
'Of course; but while the significant, and even the pseudo-significant -yes, the absolutely insignificant as well, -may be bearable, it is trifles, trifles that matter.'
... or surrender herself to the influence of that perfect restfulness which, known, probably, to everyone, comes of a silent, half-conscious contemplation of the great waves of life as they break for ever around and against us.
The man who has not seen such tears in the eyes of his beloved does not know the height of happiness to which, mingled with joy and gratitude and modesty, a woman can attain.
'I have tarried overlong in a sphere which is alien to my personality.'
It was such a great day,
When we gathered to celebrate
We ate together and laughed too.
And you told me I was beautiful.
I was doubtful, I considered myself plain,
But if you thought it was true,
It might be possible,
I might actually be beautiful.
All you saw was the surface,
Of secret corners and depth,
Tinged with devil darkness,
How could I possibly be beautiful?
It must be mere fantasy,
Of love tinted eyes,
Feelings can change time,
But I hope in your eyes I stay, beautiful.
Have you done it? Have you done it before?
How do you feel now?
All I want to do right now is fill up reams and reams of paper with
drawings of hearts and words of resistance.
Flames of...
One for darkness, one for light.
Incoming addiction.
Fabulous fascination.
Fucking fantastic.
Electric blue. Powder blue.
Darn hearts and stockings.
You tweeter!
And suddenly the air was still. And the only things you can hear is white noise.
I'm addicted to your presence.
To light, to evanescence.
Wit, whets the appetite of life.
Sugar, all you need is spice.
Why bother when you only like mice?
People say that.
Do you hear what the people say?
Purple and pink on my guitar.
String of doves and paper hearts.
Reaching out blindly for a connection.
Bleeding paper hearts.
Physics, the rules of being.
On making your own cake and eating it,
"Can you eat a little more? My tummy is full and I can't take it."
On making your own bed and sleeping in it: Bliss.
There was a monkey. Then there wasn't one.
The surpression creates oppression making it depressed.
All my eyes want to do is close. But all I want to do is see.
Ten minutes away from here is heaven.
Everytime I look at the sky at night I see Orion.
Lyrics are poetry. And poetry is awesome.
I didn't feel like it for the longest time.
Stop popping.
I'm hungry.
Broken, bleeding hearts. I kiss, you close and heal.
There is always tomorrow.
You and me = Infinity?
Time shifts and changes. Time warps.
Creative ways to do bad things.
Collective bad habits. Assortments. Like a candy shop.
Rivets on the walls and shadows. Shifting imperceptibly.
Genuflect.
Your scent is in the air. I want to catch it.
I always feel like Hellogoodbye.
Dust motes under sunshine. Like glitter fairies in the air.
Times of innocence never lasts.
It's so clever of them.
I'm sorry, I self indulge.
Delusional.
The terrible weight of sadness creates the gloom.
The irony. It's going to rain, and there is no water in this city.
I love the sounds, electronic.
Malady of the soul. Thus mooning.
I was writing the whole morning.
Drawing swirls in the air.
Shame has no place in my starlight.
The beats of the drum remind me of the beating of your heart.
It's crushing, your voice and your emotions. It's hopeless but so beautiful.
Lethargy.
My heart stops every time.
There is no rhyme and reason.
It's so wrong but it feels so right.
Look at the other angles. Tilt your head, it's alright to look different because the view is amazing.
I'm so distracted by my own thoughts and musings.
Frustration!
Constellation.
Grey sky mornings.
Who is the intruder now?
I'm tired of waiting. Too tired to move.
Your life is a mystery to me. My life is the same to you.
I wonder how long this is going to be.
Walking with music. Is all I need.
I need people. No matter how much I deny it to myself sometimes I need
somebody there. I need friends. I need people to care. I need amazing
and inspiring. I need laughter and intelligence. I need adventure and
adrenalin. I need to talk and listen. I need stories. It's a fact I am
accepting despite the fact that people can dissapoint and hurt. I
found veritable stars. They're warm and they sparkle. And they give me
hugs.
Regardless...
Can you hear what's in my head?
When you spend time with other people, you have your own opinion, your
own thoughts. Somethings pass through your mind and at times you blurt
it out. And at other times you keep it to yourself. You'd have your
own inside jokes and conversations. You absorb your surroundings and
process them. You think about the moments, the dialogue, the deja vu.
And you'd feel safe because it's in your mind.
But is it?
Uncanny, the feeling that those around you know what is going on in
your mind. It might be something good, it could be something bad and
immoral. It might be your secret desires. It could be how you're
feeling about somethings, like apprehension and excitement for things
that may mean nothing at all. More often than not it could be
something that you never want people to know. You're pretending, but
they know anyway. Just the moment you thought that thought and look
into a friends eye. It seems like they know all about it. Or do they?
Can you tell what I'm feeling just by standing by my side? Can you
tell what I'm thinking? Is it on my face, my hands, the electric
currents around me? (My t-shirt?) Is it in my eyes and gestures? Is it
from the gaze three seconds ago? The way I twirled my fork or brushed
back my hair? Could it be from connections? When I steal your food,
your shoe, or accidently touch? Can you feel my guilt, my envy, my
disgust, my improper excitement? Could it pass through the air? Then
your antenna could receive the signal. It processes. It clicks. Then
I'd be a goner.
It'd be so crazy if you knew. There would be no place to hide.
Disturbed?
(A love poem?)
My very words flow out awkwardly, like a stumbling baby on its first
few steps. No matter how many years it may be, when I read again what
I wrote, it sounds wrong. It sounds clumsy. And when I read it again,
at a different place with a different air, suddenly it means
something. And it's old and it's new. It reinspires, it regrew. At
best, I have to beat the rotational cycle of learn and forget. I have
to learn, and grow it. I have to feed my idea's and transform it. or
else it'd die a slow death, in stagnation, then decay. And when I find
it again, the useless cycle continues.
Tell me a secret that nobody knows,
A secret so secret it's embedded in your soul,
A secret you dream in your deepest slumber,
A secret that changes the very fabric of life,
A secret so powerful, like a jewel, like a crown,
A secret that binds your destiny to mine,
Because I want to own you in a way nobody can.
Give me your trust, your eternal devotion,
Give me your focus, your precious time,
And I in turn will give you mine.
You wonder; Why me? Why you? Why us together?
My answer to you is intangible,
The pure obsession, the reckless wonder,
I'm binded, you're bonded, it seems inevitable,
No matter where you and I may be,
I feel the connection, like invisible strings,
I feel your heart beat even when you're afar
I never feel alone, alone in the dark,
I feel happy for no apparent reason,
I feel alive.
I'm in love with this moment
This time this place
I love the feelings coursing through me
When I think of this space
I'm in love with the people
That fill up my day
With their presence and laughter
Their care and their embrace
I'm in love with where I am and what I can do
I feel like a sparkle that could turn to a star
I feel like I'm flying at speeds unknown
I feel like a flower stretching out for the sun
I feel like a smile straight from the heart
I feel like I'm drunk on plain water
I feel like I'm in love
:)
Day by day, I am surrounded by masses of people,
They fill my space, with noise and with body,
They do things around me,
Causing chain reaction, movement, reality,
And yet they do not touch my heart.
Hour by hour, the scene changes and moves,
What was there will never be again,
What was a moment is lost forever,
And yet, I am in the same place I was yesterday,
today and tommorrow.
Minute by minute,
Opportunities come and go,
I can be fantastic. I can be wonderful.
I can be evil. I can be illegal.
And yet I stand before the red button, it's lightly pressed,
No reaction.
Second by second,
Precious sand flows through the hourglass,
It's running out, and it's whirling down faster, faster,
I am still
blind, deaf, mute to the world.
I am oblivious, catatonic.
I am asleep.
Notes:
Crap poetry: Stuff that doesn't rhyme, and at times, doesn't make any Sense either. Purely the author's creation because creating is what she wants to do.
Thanks to all the people that inspired me to write it again. And my red book. ;)
It started at midnight. I was ready to sleep, ready to release me from my reigns to the conscious world, when I got a message from CK. "The application of ICX Manager is going to be closed in 12 hours. Do appreciate this opportunity as others need to wait for a year to be in the management team whereas you can do it NOW. Believe me it'd be an intensive, fulfilling and fun learning experience. So why hesitate? Just apply-lah..." I was wholly set on saying no. I had other things on my mind. My mountain of study, my other activities. But this message triggered something in me. I was reconsidering. I was torn. I turned to look through the list of people that were online. There was Tommy. So I talked to him. We were going through the same dilemma. We needed seniors! So I checked my list again. Melvin was online too. So I talked to him. Then I found out, Kit was online too. Now Kit really cares about us and is really willing to listen, so we ended up bombing him too. And by 2am or 3am I was ready. I wrote in my application and sent it in. It was an amazing morning. I felt so lucky that I had so many people to talk to. And they were willing to just listen to me and help me along. And they cared about me enough to talk till so late and share what they think. I fell asleep feeling happy. I took a step and the road is going to bring me far.
I love being in AIESEC. I've been bonded to the people, their warmth and passion. I was committed to something worthwhile. It's a positive place to grow and try my hand at doing something. It's a place where I find out more about myself and try to become a better, greater person. It's my support group where everyone pulls each other up. It's where I can go crazy and have fun. And so I feel so lucky to be a part of it. I'm so glad I have it. And that I stayed.
I woke up to eat my favorite college breakfast of the week, kaya toast! Yes, I revel in the simplest things. But it was a great start. I usually eat with my roommates, Effie and Stefanie and it's always fun. I have great roommates and it didn't matter that they weren't Muslims at all. I've had so much fun with them just being in the same room. And that's all I need. I always liked having friends as roommates and I don't regret it. It made the whole argument that separated the Muslims and non-Muslims (saying that they'd be arguments, etc.) redundant. And I'm happy I break the stereotype.
I had lunch with Kee Aun. I was surprised seeing that I was the only one invited and even more surprised when he offered to belanja. I didn't mind of course. He was offering me to be under his official team for his campaign. I was sort of shocked. I thought there'd be better people or friends that he'd know but he offered it to me. I didn't hesitate too much actually and I said yes. We started planning stuff right away!
Only for a moment I thought, gosh, what was I putting myself through? But I'm going to eat up the whole cake. I swear I would.
It was so amazing that other people could see potential in me that I never saw in myself. Things which I thought wasn't in me were things that they saw me becoming and flourishing at. Even now I wonder of how it could be? It couldn't be true. But if it is, I want to see it for myself. I want to know if I could truly be that great. I feel great and I feel like I'm expanding into something bigger and brighter. I wasn't just ugly little caterpillar but I was a butterfly too. And I feel so happy, so grateful that I could be here and be this way. I feel like I've almost fully accepted being where I am. I was meeting great people and great things are happening to me even though I'm not in UK or US or France or NZ or Australia or Japan. I leave just a little bit of dissatisfaction. Just enough to be hungry for more.
Then there was the departmental meeting, which I believed was going to be a bore. Boy, oh boy, wasn't I proved wrong. Then my favorite lecturer, Dr Faisal Rafiq that became the dean, stepped up and told us what he did. I literally had stars in my eyes. I was amazed by all the changes that were going on. I was cheering inside at all the opportunities that he was presenting us. I was truly a nerd at heart and I was so inspired. It seems that there was a reason why I chose Computer Engineering after all, I liked the possibilities, and he was going to make things happen, giving us opportunities to go out there and grow and be fantastic. I want to study now. My subjects are way cooler than I ever had at any semester and I had a reason to TOUCH the computers in the CE labs. I was in ecstasy. I was finally interested in studying!
Then I had heart to heart talks with Lavania and Firdy. We shared what we've been going through recently and we reinforced our support to each other. Because friends are there for you no matter what. And I love when it's proved to me again and again. We wanted to make plans. We want to do something together. We wanted to... camwhore! Project RB9! 10 themes at different places! We were so excited thinking about the clothes and the colours. We are going to have fun together!
I feel like I have so much this semester, and it's going to be magical. I'm grateful to be given these opportunities. I am going to enjoy every single bit of it and it's like finally, this is what my life should be about. And I'm grabbing on to it with everything I got. And I am, surely, going to fly.
