2013.

At the eve of something big, no matter the occasion, it always warrant a meaningful post or two. Due to this being typed while being bedridden with a persistent bug, which has so far overcame most medicine I threw at it, managing one is definitely too much for my plate. Planned to head off someplace to watch some fireworks, but couldn't risk turning my new year into a literal bang with blood and mangled flesh.

When you're sick, you've no choice but to think about stuff. Because you can barely do any other shit. You'd think about getting better; what would you do when you recover, the food you'd try, all the places you could have gone when you were down with whatever the fuck this is. You'd want to rest, in order to conquer this illness. Actually, you have to rest since there's not much you can do anyways because nobody likes you, that's why. 

Picture this though; people all dressed up, in a crowded enclosed area, cheering loudly on as they participated in exuberant merrymaking, anticipating for new year's day to come. For the old year to pass and to let all things run anew; letting bygones be bygones and all that forgiveness love-dovey stuff. Essentially, for the ball to drop. Then there's you, sitting in a dark enclosed room, illuminated by a bright monitor, typing in his blog about how he never get the new year eve that he wanted; how all his resolutions always go to hell. Basically, rants unfit for a public audience. Then, he'll keep telling himself that the new year will be better, not realizing that he's already doomed for eternity.

Hmm, this year. Lots of stuff happened, none quite memorable that they need special mention. And for the record, I have not grown any taller. That is actually the most mention-worthy item on my list; I do lead a stale routine daily. Oh and this blog. I started it this year. I tried writing stuff which could garner reasonable readers but ended up spiraling back into my usual pattern of alienating everyone who accidentally clicked on this unfortunate blogspace. Maybe it's time for another reboot? Or maybe I should just give it up? I know there's a difference between the two but I always end up with the wrong one. Only 50 posts this year, the entire 12 months of it too. So, I've got bloody uplifting statistics to boot.

Frankly, I can barely recall what happened in my life this very year much less that crappy subject filled with facts requiring nothing but dead memory power. I'm so fucked.

| Why do you cry at endings? There are no true ends. Each end bring about a new beginning and they are so much closer than you realize.

Fire.

Another year forced into perspective, right at the end. An evaluation of  yourself in the past year, in every single aspect. Unknowingly pressured into reflecting upon oneself, finding flaws and mistakes. Then, from a long lists of fuck ups and regrets, comes an even longer one filled with hopes and aspirations for the coming new year. But for one to really change, one needs to be focused and resolved. There can be not a single moment's respite; from henceforth there will only be perseverance, ignited by an inconspicuous spark. Sweeping over the entire world, engulfing everything in a fiery inferno, consuming all that is naught.

| Believe, is a beautiful fire, burning out your fears.

I'm the reason I can't have nice things.

That's probably the longest post title I ever came up with; at the advent of this blog, I tried giving longer titles to my posts; inevitably, I fell back to the habit of donning one word for each post, it does feel so much more mysterious and intriguing, no? At least, it does to me. Titles are important, they point out the main idea of your posts, they give a sense to your (non-existent) readers as to what to expect of the barrage of words they're about to dive into. My problem is that I lose track of my idea two sentences into the paragraph, just writing myself into oblivion when I'm talking about donuts at the start.

Alright so, donuts. I realized one of my many flaws mid-sentence, this very sentence, is that I tend to write out posts based entirely upon conversations and dialog the exact way I play them out in my head. That's gonna be bad, I think. Not to mention the fact that I don't really have any nice conversations in there either. No wonder I still can't write good readable stuff.

Reading back the previous incarnation of my blog, there's just so much nostalgia, just floating around, suffocating me. It has ten times the number of posts; many bitterness, some sweetness, a bittersweet collective of my high school years. With a couple press of a few buttons, I deleted that. Why? There's probably some heart breaking and gut wrenching back story here but I won't share, because I'm dark and cryptic that way. lol.

Just kidding, I don't know why either.

Why?

We wake up each day, and begin facing our problems anew, be it yesterday's burden or today's woe. Do you see yourself in the mirror when you head into the bathroom to brush up? Really see, not just look, the person with looking back at you; messy hair, puffy eyes and the generally groggy look on your face. You look and you'd try to straighten up, splashing cold water onto your face, to see clearly. Why? What is it that you expect to see, looking back at you?

But perhaps, you barely even have time to squeeze toothpaste for brushing, much less admire your reflection in the mirror; rushing to work, late for classes, and all the reasons in the world which gave us a sense of urgency when in reality, there is none at all. Ask yourself - are you really that excited to get to work/class or whatever routine that which occupies your everyday lives? We'd walk hurriedly all the time, spending a gross amount of time commuting, not sparing a glance at everyone else and just trying to reach where we want. There is little to no regard at all to any living person around us, its as if we're living in a post-apocalyptic world filled with nothing but zombies, dronebies if you will.

None of us realize that it is entrapment, meant to ensnare each and everyone of us for the rest of our lives. Much like the worker bee whose entire life cycle revolve around serving the colony and nothing more. In our case, we think that who we serve is ourselves, at least we like to think so. Make no mistake, we are all servants because as Loki says, we all yearn subjugation. We serve willingly, whether if we're aware of it or not; boss at work, teachers giving out assignments, etc. From the moment we start our lives, the brainwashing began, perpetual and it would seem to me now, highly effective; we have to work for a livelihood, otherwise we'd be living on the streets, eating off scraps and basically just being dirty.

I'm not saying that we should all stop studying and working because that would cause any semblance of a working society that we have today to collapse. And anything that collapses has to be a bad thing, unless you're playing Jenga or something. I'm merely posing the question of why?

Mortals.

Whether we'd like to admit or not, in the end, we're just mortals. Destined for greatness but designed to die.

I guess I still haven't reach that age when I truly begin to contemplate my own mortality; when, where, how, who and all the big questions. But these few days of cold solitude led me thinking - what if I just hit the end the road, right here and now? Take two fingers and pinch out the flame, in a way of saying.

Did I do what I really wanted? Did I achieve what I set out to do? Am I on the right track? All these questions left unanswered as I laid lifeless on bed, sweating my veins out, asking an unseen deity what have I done to deserve such suffering. Like sifting sands, they come and go as the wind blows and I clean forgot the answers, if any.

We're all going to die one day. How do we make it, before we checkout? I guess it just makes sense that nothing really matters, because in the end we all just return to the singularity, the point where we didn't existed in the first place, eventually forgotten by the ravages of time. Everything we work now is for naught then?

If it is so, then life is itself life's greatest joke but I refuse to see it so because we live in the present and that makes whatever we choose to do now matters the most to us. Of course there will always be the past to dwell on and the future to worry about but that's another post for another time of self reflecting and much more, so much more.

Inc(re)dulous.

Food for thought, just something that's been drifting in my head all weekend.

You isolate yourself, trying for solitude but end up with loneliness and that's fine,
but you try to shield yourself with that self-erected barrier, avoiding everyone else.
You'd become accustomed to the darkness; it greets you like a friend,
but you're afraid of whom you call friend, because it is asphyxiating, choking.
You try to grapple with the void, with nothingness, where everything is for naught,
but you don't realize that it's your own shadow you've struggling so hard against.

We try so hard to be independent, to be on our own, surviving in this harsh world. Sometimes we just miss the big picture of why we're here at all, there have to be a reason because I cannot bring myself to believe that this is all just a test of our mortality, of our perseverance, of our faith?

Imagine one day, you just disappear. You stop showing up to work, to class, or whatever it is your daily routine. No explanation whatsoever, you just stop; no status update to tell where you went; no tweets to share your location; no check-ins at that coffee place. Just, poof.

Would you be missed? Does anyone care that you're gone, just like that? Would anyone care enough to find out the reason? However ridiculous or petty it may sound? Just take a small moment in your life; stop and consider this incredulous question that I've been pondering when I should have been studying. (and no, that person cannot be your mom; and yes, we all love our moms)

just something (pointless) to stimulate your brain cells.

Waves.

The waves come and go, seemingly without any coherent pattern but if you do listen carefully, you can hear a rhythmic interval somewhat infused into the chaos. It recedes and rises right at the exact moments, a harmonic motion made of natural things. An unseen force pushes and pulls the entire ocean, without effort and doesn't it just feels like magic? Maybe it is after all.

Is it the wind? Some kind of  weird magnetic fields made up of the Earth and moon's alignment? There's probably some kind of scientific explanation to the theory behind; a long winded account of how some scientists gathered in a lab filled with sciency equipment and drew pretty diagrams on theories behind this phenomena. Probably not.

Right this instance, I just want to stand at the very edge and let the waves wash over me, feeling every periodic splash on my face, running down my body. Every droplet of water, a sense of renewed vigor, somewhat rejuvenating old memories, flashing before my eyes.

Just let the sea take all of it away.

hardly literal.

we rushed to the start, without a care in the world.
not knowing what to expect, just let our feelings poured.
and emptied, of itself.

there's no one to stop us; no one could even if they tried.

we let romance filled our heads with foolish notions.
not caring the consequences, just letting things run its course.
and ran away, she did.

there's no one to save me, from me now.

Trick.

You try, try and try. But what do you get in return? There's so much you need to try in life, so much to give, so little to take. It practically overwhelms you starting from day one, the very day you realize that life is an actual living entity that does nothing but screws with you every now and then.

It's like hitting your bare knuckles against a wall that is neither visible nor destructible. An impregnable cell, slowly getting smaller, taking with it every bits of light, caving you in the tropes of life.

The suffocation drives us on, we push against it, hammering the unknown with every ounce of strength we could muster, giving it all we've got, wanting, needing to break it down.

Just out of the blue, you start to realize, the trick to it, the loophole in the grand scheme of all natural things. It's like the final piece in a thousand jigsaw; when you see it, you just know that this is it. The final boss battle in a good old fashioned RPG if that's your thing (it's mine). 

There's no telling when it might happen but one day it will just dawn on you.

Misty.

There are friends with whom you're both trying to stay in touch but sometimes it just seems like that no matter what you two do, all that happens between you two is the ever gaping hole that drifts you further apart. 

Like sailing on a wooden raft in the middle of the sea; you're both on a different raft with a very thin string connecting the two. The ocean with her rage, snaps the string easily and the two just couldn't keep that tiny common ground that was what once brought you two together.

and then, there's only the misty seas and you, in total solitude.

#

I liked it when I just typed what I loved to type, rather than this vicious cycle I'm putting myself through. Trying to piece words together just to flaunt my wound, to what end? 

I don't know.

Hope.

The seas are finally calm, it has been weeks and months of raging storms with no end in sight. What used to be a picturesque landscape turned into a disastrous wreck; houses built too close to the ocean are no more, leaving behind only the foundations, traces of human life are plenty but too small to be of any comfort. Even the sandy beach is but a pale shadow of its former glory, all gloom and dark filled with broken masts and planks from the nearby harbors. All life seems to end right at this area, floras and faunas seem to have found an invisible boundary, now clearly visible due to the stark contrast of no-life; uprooted trees and rock formations all over the place, giving the ravaged town another thorough trampling without much afterthought. A bustling fishing village reduced to a barren wasteland, devoid of any activity; it seems to be a scene taken right out of a post apocalyptic world, that we could only dreamed of, until now.

Right in the bleakness of all this, there remains a small green plant, surviving the onslaught, growing and moving on.

derrière.

Everyone is the way they are because of what life did to them; They didn't want to be the way that they are; Each one of us are, because we were. There isn't a fix or cure that exist that can change any of that; and considering, how anyone is comfortable just being themselves. We don't see a reason to change ourselves.

The more accustomed we are to the comfort zone, the less likely we're going to leave it. To us, a normal bland routine is not good but for the sake of all purposes, it is safe and it works. Change comes when you try, there's no guarantee that the change will be for the better; there's always the propensity for calamity, hiding, lurking just behind that shadowed alley. Then, we become fearful of any sort of modifications to our routine, because breaking off from the norm is in itself is scary. The unknown. It piques us, baits us, try to throw us off the track. Some thirsty for adventure, seeks it while others shuns it like vampires running from the sun.

At the same time, those running away, looks behind; and that's when all hell breaks loose.

Thunder.

It strikes, the blue streaked lightning, hammering down upon the earth, each time, bringing about a deafening roar unlike that of the a lion yet still fearsome and full of the same murderous intent. A subtle crackling follows the awe-inspiring tear across the wind, like particles diffusing in the air, ionized by the sudden electrical surge. 

The entire nightscape  illuminated by the blue-white, brings about a frozen image of the nocturnal. Owls and the likes, revealed by the ungodly blaring of the very skies which it hunts in, yet unfazed and uncaring. With this very blast from the furnace of the heavens, every movement on land seems to begin to slow and halt momentarily. All things seem to be waiting for the next one, again and again.

Though the saturated air is dry yet a certain kind of moist permeates through the air, as if foretelling a coming storm. Only if the sky's temperament is predictable, then might we have had found solace before all of it broke loose, down upon us mortals.

A biting gale rose, out of nowhere and with it, a rustling of branches which grew violent as it escalates; 
A warning that gave us no time to prepare for, the wind clawed at all that it could reach, fatal and impartial.

In this chaos brought out by the natural order of things, I could hear only your voice, booming like the thunder itself, distant but close to heart.

Human Heart.

Our hearts are weak.

I say so because the human heart is so easily broken; Failed relationships can easily rend a heart to a million pieces. Death too, can kill those still alive, just as it has taken those dearest to us. Tiredness, runs a heart until it's out of juice, effectively stopping it. Clogged arteries and veins, building up pressure, until all of it just bursts. Crushing one's heart by a ruptured rib cage, due to excessive impact or blunt trauma. Poking at it with an extremely sharp pointed object spills the juice and it goes down like a deflated balloon.

The list could go on and on but I'm missing the point I'm trying to make already.

and here's some music, go figure.

The Box.

All of us begin as a metaphorical empty box, filled with nothing but innocence and naivety. There are no boundaries limiting how big or small this box could be, it can be as wide and as deep as seas and oceans, in the beginning. All wide-eyed and full of ourselves, we rush headlong into the world, neither knowing what to expect nor what to do with the unexpected. Then, it happens.

Growing up, we embark upon the arduous and never ending task of filling said box, with a variety of things - some of them matters, most of them don't. The more we stack into the symbolic box, the less we remember what we've put there to the point that we begin to question ourselves. What am I doing with my life?

That is the point when you'd become overwhelm with life itself. You'd become busier with the same amount of work but with less productivity than before, there might even be times when you just want to give up trying anymore. Yet, you trudge on, with whatever willpower you could muster, hoping that at the end of this soul crushing deluge, there will be serenity. The biblical equivalent of the light at the end of the tunnel.

We don't know this yet, but that peace does not lies all the way at the end. Depending on what you chose to put inside that allegorical box, any dissension disrupting your life's harmony could be eliminated instantly. Like, poof. Gone.

Personally, I'd put in love and passion enough to last me a lifetime and then seal the fuck out of that box.

City.

People from all walks of life, walking hurriedly along the pavement. The streets are packed, with sedans, cabs and bicycles. The city sway with perpetual motion, always moving and never a moment's rest in between. In this bustling hive of a metropolis, signs of activity could be seen everywhere; hot-dogs sellers by the sidewalk, office workers running late, students clamoring onto the school bus. 

Everybody is going on about their own business, all fast-paced and purpose-like. Nobody gave a second glance on the man standing on the ledge atop the skyscraper, that is, until he leaped.

Simple.

A silver locket shaped like a heart, laid neatly on the wooden table; 

A heart-shaped argent locket, rests glittering atop the timber; 

Lustrous silver locket, molded after a heart, lies glaring in all its splendor, atop the carved timber.

These three sentences mean the same thing but the vocabulary used and the way the sentence is arranged makes it seem so much more than what it is. In truth, there's really no need for bombastic words and the like for one to write...stuff. 

I want to write simple words, to carry within them deeper meanings and stronger emotions...so much more. I just haven't figure out the way that is right for me yet, but all in good time. It's due when it's due, not any time soon.

Amnesia.

I remember all of it, vividly.

Then, it dawned upon me. All that I have left are old memories to be remembered. The realization that you won't be creating any new experiences together is dead tough. There are stages of grief to go through and then there are stages where you just relapse and stay grieving. There's no one to tell you how hard its all gonna be, but it doesn't make it any less than what it is. Sure, everyone would be sympathetic and shit but it helps naught. Only you can make it better and there's no one in all of the nine universes who can help you. The sooner you put that through your head, the less painful it's going to be- not no pain but less.

It's called living in the past for a reason, you can't change anything so all you could do is try to remember it all exactly as it is. That itself is another challenge because it's so much better the way you remembered it rather than what had actually happen in the past. Dwelling upon the unchangeable and retrospective is one of my strong points. What you retained in those fleeting moments of joy gives you something along the lines of a liberation, you can change anything at will and you yourself won't be none the wiser.

Then there are moments that makes you wish you were amnesic. Aplenty.

Dramatizing.

I want to thank some very important people without whom this blog wouldn't have existed. It's been a long road since the my couple of blogs from before, indeed. I wouldn't have imagined myself still writing blogs and stuff when I first created my blogger account and that was so many years ago. I do feel so very old right now.

Who would've thought that an attempt to stay in touch with friends could become something so much more? True, what initially drove me to open a blog is an entirely different than what I have in mind now but that doesn't make it any less vital. In fact, without that innocent reason, I wouldn't be having this post written this very instance. It really just all boils down to the choices you make and what you do to keep going at it.

I like to write very much. There's a certain liberating sort of feel when I put words to all those feels that I couldn't express well in person. It's somewhat a rush for me when there are certain nights that all of it just clicks and flows. Effortless, everything just comes naturally and tonight is one of those precious nights. 

I wouldn't have figured out that I enjoy writing and have this blog as a platform without everyone that I've met up to point of my life. But there are a few select individuals whom has given a greater impact upon my writings than most and for that, it warrants a little appreciation even if they didn't ask for it at all. Heck, they might not even know about the impact that they have had on me. 

Lets take it from the top.

My family. Without them, I wouldn't have all that money to blow on my hoarding of books. Also, for the nurturing and care that took me from hating the language to being immersed in it. 

Teachers. I've been taught by quite a number of teachers but only one of few truly lived up to what teaching means, language wise, other subjects notwithstanding. An unnamed 'teacher' who gave me tuition classes. Unnamed because 'teacher' was all I called her through out the lessons which as recalled, were brutal. Next, my form 5 teacher - Pn Loh. I know our class weren't exactly the best and brightest therefore we're really lucky to have her then. She's fair; Gave credit when credit's due and punished when we deserved it. She's also the first teacher to give me confidence in my own writing and that was really all a student could ask for from a teacher.

Friends. I'm really lucky to have some pretty encouraging friends. There are those who helped mentally, physically and likewise. You do know who you are and so I wouldn't go into another long-winded account of how you all gave me a reason to continue writing. The point is, you were there then; you're still here now.

Last but not least, a thank you for all you anonymous readers! And for those unwary facebook friends who clicked on this link accidentally too!

I am one heck of a drama king if I may say so myself.

Declaration.

I'm gonna write a at least one draft per day until I get better at this. Why? because I've just read a couple of articles written solely to inspire people to write more, regardless of quality or readership. From what I could gather from the authors, a badly written draft is better than not having one. Arguing from that basis, you could say that the more shit you try to write, eventually you're going to become better, in time.

Creativity isn't found in rare individuals with a penchant for it, it's earned through hard work and repetition of accumulating experience doing that work. Well, at least that's what I've got from all those informative sites on the internet. But I could be wrong and creativity is just a rare natural born talent which could not be found in people with none of it. Then again, we wouldn't know now would we? That's why we need to stumble and fall in life, to find out the bigger questions that have no one correct answer.

A new semester. Of course you'd have certain hopes and aspirations that you'll want to live up to, I surmised each and everyone currently enrolled in tertiary education to be in similar shoes. That's the odd thing about people- all of us want things that are nearly identical yet dissimilar at the same time. What you want now might not be what he wants now but in the long run what we want wound up more or less the same. 

Let's break it down. A fulfilling life. Does it sound familiar? That's essentially what every Gen Y wants nowadays. Wealth - basically money to spend on things you need and/or want. 

You know you don't need but you'll want.

How many of us do study because that's what drives us? Passion, interest and all that crap that they saturate you with when you're just beginning to finish on your pre-u program. Having trouble deciding what course to take? No worries! Be a doctor! Engineer! Lawyer! Whatever the fuck's stereotype we have for occupation which offers stability and high wage. There was once upon a time wistful thinking that furthering your studies meant going into what you're really passionate about, lighting the spark which ignites your entire life. Yet in our culture, we're so ingrained with the professionalism infused with said occupation, there's really no point in offering ourselves a choice.

There are more of us studying for a degree merely for the sake of the degree than I could comfortably say possible. In many ways, the machine which drives are ourselves alone. We decided to embark upon this road. No the road less taken mind you, the road which everyone has walked and tells you that there's a freaking rainbow and shiny unicorns at the end of it. We carry on because everyone else is, we don't stop to think for a moment is whatever the fuck I'm doing now what I really want to do with my life?

Here's the kicker. No one does so why should I?

Epic.

Your story might not play out the way you imagined it to be, heck you might now be the farthest away from what you have in mind on the unfolding of your tale. The disparity between realities; That of your own making and that of which is real.

Point is, everyone has their own narration. A disembodied voice giving a blow by blow retelling of their everyday lives. Of course, you'd think that your personal story is most epic you've stumbled upon because we're all narcissistic to a certain extent. Human condition.

This epic retelling is all inside our heads but that those does not make it any less meaningful. I mean, it is your life and you're only going to live it once. No take twos, no rewinds, no crying. 

There's just one question. Frankly, do you think your personal story to be epic? Perhaps you're raised homeless, jumping from couch to couch, living off charity. And then now you have a house to your name, with extra money you could spend at your leisure, be it GTA V or gold iPhone. Just an example but I really could do with both right now.

Could you imagine everyone you've met up to this point or is going to meet in the foreseeable future also having such a tale to their own? Globes of yellow light encased with an orb of iridescence by the highways - numerous and uncountable, stretching all way to whatever destination it leads, into the unreaching darkness. Imagine every amber beacon that lies buzzing to be someone's personal saga. Would that be so impossible?

and in case anyone's interested, I'd like my disembodied voice to be the voice of God, Morgan Freeman.

Lunar musings.

Sometimes. 

I do wonder what did happen.

For it all to be so.

Are you looking at the same sky as I am?

Do you see the bright and round moon as it is? 

A celestial body with footprints all over.

You might see but you do not feel as I do.

The astronomical sense of how tiny we are.

What does we do matter anywhat?

Then if so, why do we do what we do?

There's no point in anything.

There's only you.

Cheesy and a new sort creepy I know but that's just about the extent of my newfound courage at sparing of this  pointless joke of a reprieve. I do try abit too much sometimes.

Vexed.

It feels like I've been here before, in another lifetime. Flashes of scenarios playing out, and I'm seeing them through a different set of eyes now. A jubilant display of logic and chaos, fused together by the brief but certain pauses in between. All these memories come to life as if they have a life of its own, and in the continuity of things, all of it lives on now and then. Yet, as real and vivid these images appear to be, I know them to be naught, taunting and full of deceit. A distant thing, to be remembered and perhaps cherished at certain times of reminiscence and that's all there is to that. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Now, I'm just pretty stumped myself that this is another one of those times.

Eburnean.

More short to mid length stories written without coherency in mind. I swear this short running commentary in the beginning will should cease. Not even really a story, just a few sentences combined to make up stuff.
Here we go-

The entire room was covered in nothing but the entirety of the light spectrum.

Pale linen and sheets. A washed out painting framed within a border of darker white, almost gray. A lighter splash of white graced the ceiling, creating the illusion of space being larger than it actually was. 

A white wooden bookcase, or plastic? Because it is the usual norm for bookcases to be made of wood. Besides, what else could it be? Anyway, the plastic/wood case was laden with books. And of course, all of the books are white, you've been paying attention to the story haven't you?

A toppled jug of milk laid on the counter, it's content almost the exact hue as the surface it is on. The liquid remains perfectly stationary, still that it seems and feels like solid - static and glued in place. The only reason why it's milk is because it's only natural to call a white liquid milk.

The lamp, emitting white light, hung from the ceiling as if it was oscillating and then just abruptly stops at the height of its motion, frozen in time and space. A low hum drones on in the background, driving through the void-like atmosphere of the room.

Everything was still. Even the tiniest of particles suspended mid-motion as if the entire notion of time itself has stopped. The most fundamental law of the universe malfunctioning at the boundaries of this very small white room. Right in the middle of all this torpid chaos, stood a person, clothed in black.

God will know why because I really have no idea why.

End.

In My Bones.

wanted to write some epic and long winded shit about how everything is so hard and why it all hurts so much but I just couldn't find the right words. There might not be any words that are 'right' for it all.

once again. sometimes, a song is all there is to it.

mighty bones of loneliness and lately, a spice of miserable feelings.

Death.

Story time! Actually just some writing exercise that I'm doing to improve on my deteriorating skill. If I had any in the first place. Without further ado,


He died. That was the simple reality of it all.

When you reach a certain age where good health is no longer a guarantee, you'd begin to imagine what death would be like. There are scenarios of course - movies and tv series to stimulate your imagination. Though as a given, the writers for these depicted scenes still would've need to get their imagination from somewhere. Seeing how anyone who is dead would have a hard time describing what's it like, much less write the experience down. Death remains the greatest mystery of life, though it does stand pale besides the even greater mystery that is women. But this is not what this story is about.

Alright, death. So, he died.

When someone do talk about death, what is it that interest us the most? The circumstances that eventually lead to the ending that we now know? Or is it the stopping of time, the ethereal like soul leaving the body, and the instantaneous stopping of all the major organs? Then, what about the effects of a person's death on everyone else? Family and friends. Is that a part of death too?

It is a complicated and touchy matter. In some places, almost taboo to talk about at all because it is deemed to be bad luck to talk about the deceased. When you do pass on, you take nothing with you and leave nothing behind. That is, discounting all the memories that anyone has of you when you were alive but even those eventually dims and blurs with the passing of time. Precious memories turned into dust under the ravage of time. Unless you do happen to be someone of prominence, who'd put a mark on the histories of the making of this world. A major business tycoon perhaps? That might work just as well. Though in truth, how many of us out of the 7 billion have what it takes to charter a new course for the muddy seas of histories? How many tycoons is one too many?

People die everyday in the world whether anyone knows or cares about it. Every death is treated different, depending entirely on the geographical location of your death. Sometimes, the circumstances as well though occasionally your ethnicity comes into play too, somewhat. Actually, you read all about it in any of the major online news portal. But to be frank, those are just the death that are 'newsworthy' and could increase readership, resulting in better sales which in turn generate much higher revenue. News have become much more of a business in this day and age where death is a much needed commodity to make the headlines.

But I'm not here to talk about the evil news corporations running our headlines. It's death that I'm going on about.

Once again, he died. Though I repeated it quite a few times. He could and did only die once. And once was more than he or anyone could take.

How did we arrive at this conclusion? Well, he was drunk and then he was driving. It's called DUI in some parts of the world. Driving Under Influence. Alcohol does funny things to people and sometimes people does funny things after ingesting a fair bit. But as you know, this is not one of those fun and happy times.

Simple motorized vehicular accident. He'd simply lost control of his Benz and swerved onto the incoming lane. Though a bus was speeding down the incoming lane as well. The result was a spectacular clash of German-made steel against simple locally made steel. Then a mangling of flesh and the steel contraption that is humans engineered to ease travel. Probably some bones added into the mix as well. No matter what ideas you have of crashes from the action movies, this was not it. No Bruce Willis climbed of the wreck, unharmed and ready to bust some heads. Nobody survived the accident despite the best effort by the emergency response team.

Everyone died. He died.

End.

Written with the help of a Starbucks frapp and the soothing environment too. Once again, my name is wrong. They never get right, not even once.

On and on.

There's much I would type here if I could just stop for a moment to briefly collect my thoughts. Every single time I feel that I've got something worthwhile to write out, I'm nowhere near a keyboard. Then, when I'm finally in front of the screen, there are just too many distractions. And all the words, gone.

Which is the definitive conclusion of how poorly this blog has done in audience retention. I could barely keep myself interested when it's me that I'm talking about. That in itself has caused me much grief. It's better to not expect at all, then there won't be any disappointments at all. In a way, it's a much better way.

Here I am, rambling on and on. Almost about nothing at all.

What do people blog about, if not themselves, or, if at all?

Today.

This day is quite a special day. I have here with me, two close friends, born on the exact same date - today.

Makes me wonder, what's so special about today? Probably nothing much, besides being the birth date of these two individuals. I would say I'm blessed to have known them but seeing that I've a lacking believe in omnipotent beings at the moment, I'll settle for being grateful. I am grateful.

The day itself is meaningless. The days spent together are all that matters.
and to all the days to come.

Trouble.

Normally, I'd trouble you all with my incessant blabbing and whatnots. This time, I'll settle for a kinda trippy music video of a song which lyrics I hope is enough to convey what I want to, rather than what I always do.

sometimes, a song is all you need.

any other time, you need professional help, son.

Dust to dust.

it's an indescribable sense of liberation;
like water seeping into a dried well.
light shinning in the darkness, finally.

all is dust; all is rewritten.

you.

they say the worst ideas come with the best of intentions, or the other way around.
but for what it's worth.

Bon anniversaire, mon amour. Je t'aime et je t'aimerai pour toujours.

1.

a brightly colored bag.

one young boy's attempt to spell love.

a whisper of serenity.

one period of unprecedented joy.

a promise kept, unbroken.

one.

Four.

The reason I swim; 

because I don't want to drown, again.

Rhetorical(not so much).

I tell myself.

It could'be been her sitting next to me today. Talking, eating, having fun.

At that time, I could swear that I've imagined something similar if not identical.

The dimly lit restaurant, overpriced menu. 

The road to the unknown, the smell of urban adventure.

I pictured it a thousand times, every detail but her's blurred. 

Everything eventually turns into a bright light, burning yet addicting.

So;

I ask myself.

Why not her?

Pyromaniac.

Why must everything I did, do & intend to do burns up in flames? Smokes and ashes are all that is left to me. Sometimes, I wish I could keep it around me, in darkness, eternal. 

Other times, I just wished I could stop whining and conjure up a wind to carry it all far far away, into the distant throes of nothingness. All my bloody alleged troubles.

Why do I have to be an egomaniac? Of all the things in this bloody universe that I could be, I have to pick the combination which, frankly, sucks. A lot.

Just stay in hell and burn, and rot too.

Sudden.

What in the world am I doing with my life?

There's not a semblance of planning to it, at all. I definitely did not imagined myself in this position, a couple years back. Studying something I'm barely interested in, having no secure plans for the future. And to top it all off, nothing seems to be working out for me. Relationships, money, career and all the usual crap people worry over incessantly. Early life crisis, much?

I should have given it more thought. It's my own life, after all. Who else is there but me to dwell upon it myself, on my own with no one to help. But no matter how rash or bold this decision, it was made. In the past. I'll have to live with it even though I don't want to. There's really not a single cell in my entire being that wants to continue this farce but I have to do because I have made that choice. The boat has sailed, in a way.

It sounds brave and shit but it's just plain foolishness that got me into this mess in the first place. I'll have to figure out how to make it a beautiful mess, if possible at all. Though now, everything seems bleak and faraway. They say to make do with what you've got, but when you're really there, where all the making do happens, there's just no way anyone would know what to do. Not me, not ever.

I'll just go with the flow and play along for now. Besides, what else is there for me to do? What can I do?

Papered.

Does putting words down on paper guarantees permanence?

Some might point towards history, which to some point is unchanging since it's all just cold hard facts. Not to mention damn boring facts meant for gobbling up by secondary school students. But as unchanging as it is, there are some minor errors or alteration here and there. History books are still books, and it's writers must be human. From this logic, everything human does ensues error and fault.

But that's not what I'm trying convey here. To be frank, I know less than half of the stuff I type here or not even a quarter of what I think I'm passing on as a message. Most of it just cleverly(yeaaa, I hope) disguised messages directed in a passive way to people in my life.

Getting way off point here but that's most of the posts that's ever written in this blog anyway.

Just. This.

Nothing is ever permanent;
Take naught for granted;
Live free & die hard.

Butter knife.

Saying you treasure something/someone is like saying you're grateful that you have them.

You treasure your family, your friends, your possessions. There are a variety of ways people sort their list of treasures; Money? Social standing? Those are that too. Anything or anyone can be put in the same list. This is all very subjective, all according to the person viewing it. Perspective.

Everyone has a different treasure. or treasures. many many treasures.

They all have a different way of showing affection for all the treasures in the world. Hoarders just take in everything and guard them with extreme prejudice. But that's not saying that they aren't grateful, they just take it all in, accepting all they've hoarded as a part theirs. It's a serious mental condition that I've no means of seeing clearly. But in a way, it's a simpler way of living, albeit quite cluttered and messy. Not to mention detrimental to your entire well-being if your towers of stuff just fall and collapse on you. It is simple if it could be applied to human beings and not just, you know stuff.

Imagine taking everyone in, well not literally. Just accepting everyone for who they are, what they do. Without the colored lens and all. Just everyone, friends without all the thoughts of trying to murder your neighbor with a butter knife, no matter how much they deserve it. An utopia of almost perfect ideologies. You do know why we call it utopia right? Paradise. Because us, humans being us would never achieve such ideas. That might be the pessimist in me talking but I strongly believe that for the cold hard, undeniable truth. Stereotypes and haters are just everywhere.

There's just no known solution because individual are highly unpredictable. Emotions. That's the killing blow to the envision utopia. We can't act, well not completely, without emotion. Unless you're a robot, which I'm pretty sure my neighbors are.

Now where did I put that butter knife?

17.7

失恋唔係大晒。

Expectation(s),

Sometimes they disappoint, other times, they surprise.
Most of the time, I just wished I would stop expecting so.
Maybe then, I could be truly free of these shackles.

Open letter.

A personal open letter on the eve, to whom it may concern. By the off chance that it does concern you, thank you for being an important part my life. No names will be named so we can keep the suspenseful and mysterious nature of this blog going. This is going to be one of the more longer post than I'm ever going to post. If you don't like long posts, or me, too bad. And some stuff that I write in this post, I'm probably going to regret at some point in the near future.

Also, this is going to be very personal. That is, if you know me well. If not, just try harder.

I'll try to keep this as structured as possible but it's easy to lose track when all you've got going on are the floating thoughts that you've got on your mind. Bits and pieces from here and there, past, present and future.

First off, I'm turning twenty-one. It's supposed to be a huge things amongst the chinese community here, means you're well off your way into adulthood, into the real world. To be frank, there's just no distinctive magical cutoff point for when one turns from an adolescent into an adult. There's no clear objectives to be cleared or some sort of hidden goals that you unlock before you're labelled as an adult. The number that you see on your documents and shit, are just that- numbers, and they shall remain so. You don't just suddenly become an adult just because your age is 18 or for my case here, 21. Even marriage, or parenthood doesn't count. Because any two jackasses with functioning genitalia can give birth to a baby, or two dozen. There's just no way of finding out whether you're an adult or not, no matter what people keep telling you. Just live out your life the age you have for yourself, a secret number that only you'll know.

For that matter, I've recently made a discovery about myself. I think I know myself well enough to come to this conclusion, I did know myself for almost 20 years. I'm small, not only in stature and size but personality as well. Of course, I'd like to think that I have a charming personality that is likable by everyone, alas that is not so. I'm snotty, arrogant and fickle. This is all really demeaning and all but only because I know a little bit of English, I think myself above others. A false pride, an illusion made up to trick myself into feeling superior in a small and subtle way. I'm not going to lie, it does feel good, no matter how insubstantial my falsehood is based upon. Everyone wants to be feeling superior, in one way or another. In a way, likened to everybody wants to rule the world. The more I look into it, the more I'm repulsed by myself. It just isn't right to be this way. People's worth aren't judged so easily and certainly not by one who is unworthy. I don't have uber mad english skills, so stop acting like you do. I try not to ponder upon this as much as possible but it just keeps coming back to haunt me when I least expect it.

Then, there's also something devastating. In this life, no matter what I do or how hard I strive for it. I'll never amount to more than a speck. Or anything worth mentioning. We're just so tiny in this world, maybe even less than a speck, because the world is just that- HUGE. I've yet the chance to really open up my eyes and see it for myself but from what I've manage to gather. The life that I'm leading right now, and would be leading in the future, would not have any significant change or impact on the world. There's nothing that I could do that would affect the world in the smallest or slightest of ways. This is kinda like a sudden revelation that dawned upon me, sometime ago. I used to think that there's a purpose for us humans to be born into this world. A task to be fulfilled throughout our entire live on this planet, a certain kind of ultimatum, an endgame if you will. I tried finding that purpose, from a lot of different perspective- religiously, philosophically, romantically, scientifically. I used to thought that I just have to find the one, the one girl who's for me. And when I do, everything else will just become clear as skies and follow through smoothly. Perhaps I have been looking in the wrong way or I just haven't the vision to see that far. I could not find any sense of purpose as to why am I even alive at all, besides using up water and oxygen whenever possible. What do I have to contribute? And to whom do I contribute it to? The planet? Society? Our future generation? And what about the future generation's future generation and so on so forth? Aren't we just passing the baton from our parents down to our children? Why the fuck is there a baton in the first place?

Somehow, writing this post, I started wondering whether is there a limit on words for blogger. If there is, I might just give it go trying to reach it as hard as I could before the clock strikes twelve.

Family. Of course I love my family very much. I just have the oddest ways of showing it and probably I might not even have that sometimes. I just didn't grow up in a altogether love expressing kind of family. But it's my family, I'll take it for any kind that I can manage, for as long as possible. I wonder if this letter is what people call putting yourself out there. I do know that whatever I type here is public, and everyone can read it, from that hobo down the alley to that cat in front of the laptop pretending to be human. Maybe one day, what I type here can used against me but for now, what happens now are in these words and they are all that I have left. I just want to put it all somewhere before I drown under them. This letter is really just a one time thing, I probably won't have the willpower to write another piece about myself of this length. Heck, it's been years since I've written anything near this length. This taking everything that I have to give, fingers and mind juice alike.I know that this is probably creepy and typing in white too, after so long. But I still miss you, as everything you are to me. For now and ever.
When one say something about family, of course friends are included. To be frank, I'm really grateful and thankful for all the friends that I still have at this point of my life. Looking back at how much I've given fuck to others in the past, it's a wonder that I've still got so many left. Friends to share, friends to tease, friends to ignore on a bad day, friends to be with for no reason but just with. Again, I have a problem with expressing myself with any medium other than written words. But I do appreciate all of you putting up with my fuckiness and my languages. Yeah, all that stuff that friends just turn a blind eye to stay friends. Of course, I've lost some as well but that is a story for another time. And I just have too many stories about me to tell on this one. The ones to make my acquaintance, I'm sorry that I'm not a better social person but I really am not. For those still with me, you know I won't say what you want me to say but if you're really with me. I don't really have to say it out now, do I? Ohhh, witty wordplay.

Actually, I didn't think I still have it in me to type until here. I thought I would just give up halfway and just let bygones be bygones. That is one of the things included here too, for reasons quite painstakingly obvious. I don't have anything that I want anymore. Or rather, I'm too inclined to bury it deep down until I myself could not dig it back up with a shovel. I've grew dangerously accustomed to not wanting anything that it's laughable. I don't have something that I want enough for me to actually work hard on fulfilling that want. So, I just stop working hard altogether and just let life zoom me by. It's detrimental to my mental health and well being but apparently it also called the human condition. So, meh. I know I wanted to get myself a smartphone for a longggggg time. It's been like 2 years since I last uttered those words I think. Yet, I am still clinging to that flippy thing that is used to be called a phone but considered to be all but obsolete. With no changes coming anytime soon and no probable prospects looming in the horizon either. I just couldn't decide on one smartphone that I want. That is just one very example but I think it's kinda programmed into me that I'd probably just say no to most stuff that I actually want. Well, half of the time at the very least. The other half, I probably being an ass.

Hmm, if you've managed to read until here, I guess you're good? Readable? But for the purpose of this post/letter, I've got nothing left on my mind that I would like to address. I probably just forgotten to write about it though. There are loads more, I'm sure. But I'll just let it be. So, uh, thanks I guess?

Sincerely,
Me.

Deny.

Pardon my jumbled thoughts and unstructured method of writing. I don't know any other but we learn from our mistakes, no?
There's a time and place for a great deal of things in life. To me, there won't be a better time than now, ever.

I always think but I never act.

A rather confusing sentence but I've almost always lived by it no matter what I try to change it. The fact remains, stoically and unchanging. Believe me, I've tried. I would try again if it weren't for the shitty outcomes that I must endure each time. They are not pretty at all.

What shall be, will be.

We learn to accept things for the way they are as we grow up, we've come to grasp the reality that is both harsh and cruel. There are just some things that no matter what we do or how hard we try, we can't change a damn thing about it.

Denial.
is as sweet as it lasts.
after that, it's just you clinging.
hopelessly to a root stuck out.
by a very tall cliff.

The fall will come, soon.

Stories.

It's that time of the year, again. Can't say I'm not a little excited, but it is good to have excitement, albeit foolish ones. I'd probably be more on the active side of blogging this month, probably be good?

There really is quite a bit of words cramped up in my head, incoherent and illegible words, if you could even call it that. I'm just kinda stumped at the moment, trying to find the right words to express all those words hidden in that deviously huge skull of mine. Make sense, no?

On matters of personal achievements, allow me a little vanity. Recently picked up Wheel of Time, again. Been a week, read 3 books. Still going strong on Lord of Chaos. It's an exceedingly wonderful thing to have all the time in the world and do nothing else but read the week away. Perhaps I intend to do away the month too. Fantasy for teh winz!

but-

In all seriousness.
It's an amazing thing, really. Stories.
They sure as hell beat reality, eleven times out of ten.

This.

Ah, where to begin. Just some much jumbled thoughts that I want out, arranged neatly. It would seem that the more I try to put everything nicely, the messier it gets. Just got not talent at all, looking at the state of my dorm room. But hey, I can push that shit on my finals right, I need to study for my papers so I've got no time to do mundane crap like cleaning up my own mess. Yeah, do that, just blame it all on your last minute cramming and so-called revisions.

I heard before that how your room looks, reflects entirely on you as a being. I guess that makes me a steaming pile of muck, dust and cobwebs? Yeah, that's me.

Ever had a time when you just want it to pass, to end, to go away. However childish that sounds. This might just be that exact time I'm in and I'm mightily stuck in this endless time loop. It's like a poorly made reboot of Back to the Future where Marty just keeps going back again and again because he keeps screwing up. Then in the end, he end up f-

no. but you get the idea, don't you? This.

I wish your choices lead you to happiness.

(Prior)ities.

Another period of being inactive yet again, it does seem to be rather the normal occurrence here though.

Writing here initially, this blog was suppose to be some form of release for myself. An outlet for me to just let it all out, which I've found to my dismay, is really not that simple. I couldn't write as freely as I had, before. or wouldn't. You know, we wouldn't know. 

Reminiscing on my previous blogs, I don't remember how I could posted what I did, I don't remember what drove me to write those words. What was my aim? Really, what the heck was on my mind? Reading back some, I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of writing anything similar again. Atleast for the time being.

but I remembered how good it felt, to not think so much. and just write.

In a slightly more aesthetic description - letting the words flow out, let it rip.

 It's a feeling I'm striving for once again.

To write, for the sake of writing.

and I couldn't pick a better time to reevaluate my life decisions, eh? Really.

(un)fold.

Yeah, I know it's monday tomorrow(now?) and everyone is having the blues(already? walao eh five more days to friday)

I just took up blogging again and I'm not too sure what's a good time to post up new stuff. For me, it's probably whenever I'm unable to sleep despite overwhelming workload and poorly scheduled classes, which is to say now?

My audience at this hour would likely be - none. But I'm used to it anyway, as much as I tried gathering a lively audience. And to be really frank, I tried, really hard.

This post's sole purpose is to share with you, my avid readers, a video from half a year ago. It's a locally produced video(well, Australia but stilllll) by some really talented people. I'm actually surprised at how great the quality is. Man, support local product eh.

It is about- wait go watch it yourself.

I'm not doing a really good job of promoting said video am I? Shucks, these guys are lucky I'm not in charge of promotion and marketing stuff.

Well, here is it, enjoy(?):

Damn(s).

First off, I actually thought I could sustain this blog *snickers*

The time spanned between my previous post and this new one is definitely a new highscore for me. Almost 4 months, people might have thought I'd given up blogging altogether. I think they hoped I did. Then again, people don't really care, do they? Well, for this post's sake, let's assume they don't, which is probably true.

For the minority who give a damn, thank you for your damn and please continuing giving them(damn).
See there? Smartass wordplay right thereee, now I'm feeling hilarious.

I've been busy, but nowhere enough to say I couldn't type a few sentences here. I just don't feel like it. And I've missed every thing about it. The grammar mistakes, the wrong vocabulary(squiggly red lines everywhere), the repeated banging of backspace. I thought I don't but I do, and this is definitely what I really like to do much as I don't want to admit it. I might not be good at it, but I'm sure as hell no one could stop me.

and so I shall try again, inflicting my opinions upon the world.

Cal(a)m(ity).

To stand before a storm, strong and unyielding.
Scamper, like a hound with tail between its legs.


It's always before something urgent that people show you who they really are, their true colors in a certain sense. Everyone can be all fun and games when times aren't trying and nobody have to make any tough calls, then everyone's your friend. That's an easy enough finger to point at anyone other than yourself. But then through another's perspective, how do you - any of us stand before any decision with measurable repercussions? What of your own colors? Where do you stand in all of this?

Everyone - me included, liked to think that we're the better person than every single person we meet. That's because we enjoy the sense of superiority imposed upon by ourselves - an illusion of thought, the feel good gene in our dna. In truth, there's no method of judging who's the better one. It's all just a matter of how you see things. Yet, that don't change the undeniable fact that anyone of us would jump at the chance of proving ourselves in anyway deem probable. Petty, yes but we'd even have a name for such an occurrence, "Ego" (a particularly nasty mutation is the male type of ego) Apparently, humanity didn't get too far ahead of the curve as we think we did. And neither am I immune to this affliction nor am I doing anything to take care of it, though I think it's nigh time that I should take a look into, sometime, probably, maybe.

To carry on the trend of ever contradicting myself, this "Ego" is the thing that built cities and razed civilizations whole, without which then there won't exist a font of tension between ruling men, aspiring scientists and adventurers wannabes. And of course without said tension, there's won't be any sort of competitiveness floating around. In my opinion, progress only comes when there are people fighting for it and advancement only happens when there are people behind you, pushing you forward. Well, in a way. Man, I suck at analogies.

On a side note, I've again failed to gather any sort of an audience around haven't I? A few weeks hiatus in between posts tend to do that I suppose..but still it's kinda hard to keep blogging in regular intervals and making it a habit. Perhaps I should try again?


To look into the calamity that which is a storm,
Stand, in the eye and be calm.

What's not?

This isn't my first blog. I have plenty of failed iterations of previous blogs which now lies somewhere between hidden and deleted. Today of all days should be a great day for fresh beginnings, to start anew, reignite my passion for writing - this time to an audience I didn't know existed. I think, to write and to blog is two very different things. I love to write, make no mistake but for all my blog posts, I could not sustain a single reader much less an audience.

Today, I would like to change that. I want to be blogging, not only writing.

The first thing when you create a new blog, what's the thing that takes the longest time? Loading up the browser? No? You probably guessed it. I was stuck on the figuring out a title for this little blog space of mine. It took me hours before I'd even began to write anything of a title that I deemed worthy as a title.

It's just like when you start up a brand new game for the first time, and you're asked to type in your - the game's protagonist's name. Most of the time, when I finally got the name right, I'm already mentally exhausted to do anything else and that concludes my game time for the day.

Even with that said, I haven't the slightest what does this title means at all. Perhaps in time, I'll figure it out with some readers of course.

It's long road ahead, though it be blurred and unfocused, I want very much to see it all through, someday. Don't you just find the prospect of having something exciting to be exciting? This blog might be that exactly :)

I think this is a suitable length for any reputable first posts. So, I hope to see you reading my blog somewhere sometime. Maybe?