“Every man has his own courage, and is betrayed because he seeks in himself the courage of other persons.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

night is the blotting paper for many sorrows. i think i have used up my last piece. i want to lay down on the edge of a jetty boardwalk, watch the sea gulls fly and soak in the calming scent of the ocean. would you be kind enough to put a bullet through my heart?

i am an old fiddle, on which you can play the best tune you have ever heard. but the only things you will hear are the minor chords, the diminished keys, the flats and the sharps. nothing in harmony, nothing smooth. this egregious mistake is a blend of pitiable heartaches, impossible dreams, and a terrible reluctance to live. i own that courage no longer, exhaustion has taken me hostage and left for dead. goodbyes should be left unsaid don't you think, lest there be tears.

“The past itself, as historical change continues to accelerate, has become the most surreal of subjects, making it possible... to see a new beauty in what is vanishing.” - Susan Sontag

Someday I want to run away
To the world of midnight
Where the darkness fill the air
Where it's icy cold

Where nobody has a name
Where living is not a game
There, I hide my broken heart
Dying to survive

There, no one can see me cry
The tears of my lonely soul
I'll find peace of mind
In the dark and cold world of midnight - Black Lagoon OST

“Men tire themselves in the pursuit of sleep” - Laurence Sterne

sometimes, i confuse myself with the things i write. like a rough unpolished stone, it does not glimmer or shine. complicated scrapings, without a link or flow, comes out in dirty patches against a white sheet of paper. she does not like it, not at all. she is ashamed. a turmoil of broiling emotions simmer in the darkness, ripples of deep thought forming and disappearing with every wave of summer heat. there ain't no summer in the tiny island i sleep on, but seasons change as i demand, only in my world; a figment of my imagination i cannot live without. the leaves bud and sprouts, leap and dances, whither and wilts, as a mockingbird stares in the far distance like a hungry vulture for its prey.

wandering the streets in the dawn and feeling the damp air against my skin, i fumbled on the steps leading up to the park distracted by a cat in the bushes. a stranger reached out to pull me back on my feet and then went on his way jogging into the brightening horizon. a random act of kindness, an unguarded smile. hello world, you should get a huge dose of that and soothe your spitefulness, your rage and tantrums. without reason or rhyme, i tear the novel i barely started into tiny pieces.

breathing is close to the impossible. has it become a chore? are there monsters under your bed too? i would walk a mile in your shoes if i could, just so to try and understand. perhaps even two, but we know they'd never fit. so we turn to sweet apathy, its phantasm twisting our hearts this way and that and severing the strings of emotion. a ghostly apparition lingered in the corner of my dark dark room, shaded in wise patience and shrouded in tattered dreams.

governed by whim, i traded my heart for a standstill in time. the ghost leaned in closer, breathing its cold breath down the nape of my neck, taking glee as he takes in my shivers of apprehension.

"Do you know what your fate is? Are you trying to shake it?"

"All I need, is a place to come up for air."

the grandfather clock chimes twelve, and she willed his salient ticking hands to a stop.

"I only do two things in life, I write and I play the piano." - David Pouge

you don't belong only to yourself, you know? there isn't anything in this world that belongs to only you. everyone has connections to someone else and shares something through millions of threads, that is why you can never be free. that is also why life is amusing, sad, and dear all rolled into one.

“Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.” - Derek Walcott

contempt is a killer, isn't it? when a relationship between two people wanes over time because of other obligations, be it work or family or friends, it becomes so difficult to pull each other back on track and closer again. all this haughty culture is kicking our asses. it would be really good to see each other at our 'best' - when our brains haven’t turned to pulp at the end of the day. you never know. sometimes, pulpy brain may be just the thing we lack, especially since we already aren't getting much of each other's 'best'.

people like to be liked, not endured with patient resignation(or forgotten). this disparagement has to go. depreciation of us against the rest of it; this is a phase, and it had better be just passing by.

“Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures(until demoware comes along).” - Henry Ward Beecher & Aefiel

i was having fun playing around with Pixelmator, a demoware downloaded from apple's website. all was well, but kind of tedious because it was my virgin attempt at photoshopping images. the picture turned out okay, and i saved it all prideful of my maiden piece. seconds later to my horror... that sentence in the middle appeared and taunted me, flipping its yellow elmo's finger in my face. GRAHHHH. i hate jOO demoware! you shall never turn me to the side of darkness; i wave my credit cards back in your face!

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams” - Willy Wonka

Why are there so many songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions
And rainbows have nothing to hide
So we've been told and some choose to believe it
I know they're wrong, wait and see
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it
And look what it's done so far
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me

All of us under its spell
We know that it's probably magic

Have you been half asleep? And have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm supposed to be
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers, and me. - Kermit the Frog

i love this song. i hope you'll love it too. here's a version sung by the Muppets. teehee

“I think we are blind. Blind people who can see, but do not see.” - Jose Saramago

today shall be rainy - i just saw the Rain Monster waving from his castle in the clouds. tiny sprinkles of posies fluttered its way into my window as the majestic windmills turn peacefully in the lazy afternoon breeze.

i picked up a strawberries and cream flavored lolly and paused for thought, staring at the pink wrapper. someone once in a long ago told me that when i am upset, i should suck on that lolly. i went and bought a huge stash of lollies to keep in the fridge, knowing that happy days were few and far in between. i put that lolly down, and smiled a tiny smile only the Rain Monster could see. thunder rang and my circuits pops again when lightning strikes.

i lay down on the bed, spreading myself out listlessly across the duvet. how long will it take to unfold? obstacles are those frightful things we see when we take our eyes off the goal. i am but a child, yet sometimes i feel like i am losing the wonder of that child within me. an extra line creeps up across my face and i count the blessings i have received in the past year. not many in fact, but that's no surprise. empty is the soul who lives alone.

i feel like i am two steps behind. somebody must have moved that finish line. there are a thousand reasons why i should give up, but i am stubborn in the things i believe. that obstinate part of me ought to be shot. it's making me more bitter than i thought it could. time will change how we see. and then i will realize that i have had my blindfold on the entire time. i just didn't want to take it off.

Author's note: PAUL! I fixed up the feeds! hope it's what you were looking for. huzzah~

Labels: life, pain

“When you are unhappy, is there anything more maddening than to be told that you should be contented with your lot?” - Kathleen Norris

i just don't understand the ways of the world today. sometimes i feel like there's nothing to live for, so i'm longing for the days of yesterday. you gotta go nuts. you never know how long this is gonna last. you get in these crazy situations and the only way you can deal with it is to not take it seriously. this whole night has been one long thing that makes no sense. no sense at all.

Labels: life

“Sometimes it's important to work for that pot of gold. But other times it's essential to take time off and to make sure that your most important decision in the day simply consists of choosing which color to slide down on the rainbow.” - Douglas Pagels

it gets so hard to balance you out. that pot of gold isn't everything, baby.

Labels: mistakes, weather

“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” - Henry David Thoreau

i want no lies. i want none of your love either. so stay the fuck out of my life.

that's a speech i kept away for rainy days when somebody would come along and break me. i don't know how long it will be until i get to use it, but i have a pretty bad feeling about this.

on the train ride home earlier this evening, i found myself lost in reverie, my mind a blank sheet of cloud. as i got self-conscious of my state of catalepsy, i begun observing the people on the train. most looked uncomfortable, tired and some just looked pretty stoned. one lady chatted on the phone boisterously, oblivious to the worlds' eyes staring in her direction. i frowned, then gradually slipped back into a solemn trance.

i couldn't think much, or maybe i think too much. i'm contradicting myself aren't i? i miss what i owned a year ago, and i am not too proud of what i have gained in the past year. holy shit this present past tense thing is kicking my ass. it's like a nagging devil at the back of my head yelling at me to use the apostrophes and the angel telling me to stick to letters. okay so, i'm not too proud of the skeletons hanging in my closet. in fact, i seem to have added a couple more to the black collection. it is a diabolic plot someone up there is writing, and i am just a pawn under his pen. welcome to the world, honey.

i am still prodding at that speech in the first paragraph of today's post. prodding it with a stick like a mischievous boy annoying a puppy. i'd hate to use it, yet in some way i feel a sense of beckoning relief if i do. i am one fucking shit of mess. shitty shitty mess without any daisies in my hair, or sunny lemons in my fridge.

Labels: hurt, love, pain

“A lemon squeezed too hard will only yield a bitter juice. There has to be a line drawn somewhere. It is when the body starts wearing off when people will start thinking about these things.” - Javagal Srinath

the past few days were crazy. staying overnight in the hospital sucked big time - it was so lonely and quiet you'd think you were in the morgue. i was a little giddy but decided to go downstairs for a walk, and grab some magazines and snacks too. the evil nurse gave me an injection that made my arm throb like a ticking time bomb, and sedated me so i wouldn't struggle so much (i snuck downstairs after that anyway). hoho. just wait till i get back on my feet, i will start jabbing helpless patients with needles too. and enjoy it! *evil grin*

i woke up with a sore throat this morning, startled and pleased at the same time to find myself with a hoarse sexy voice. okay, more of startled. so i plucked some fresh lemons out of the refrigerator and decided to make a soothing lemon honey drink. after all that effort squeezing them obstinate lemons, i realized i had no honey.

my next thought landed on my leaky boobs. lemon milk? eww. just kidding. teehee.

i tried adding maple syrup to the juice, but the cocktail just ended up tasting... weird. guess i have no choice but to just make do with plain old lemonade. although i do kind of hope the sexy hoarse voice sticks around for a little while. i am pretty sure i can turn you on with just one word. heh.

i have been getting my paws all over smittenkitchen and a couple of recipes looks so absolutely delicious i can't wait to try it out for myself. hence, i am going to embark on a cooking journey this week. potato pizza is first in line!

Author's note: I'm so sorry Paul :( i have been trying to fix up the RSS feeds on my blog, but since i am using an altered skin i have no idea what RSS codes to edit into my html. any ideas peeps?

Labels: food

“Is human love the growth of the human will?” - Anonymous

today i feel like i have grown an inch, metaphorically speaking of course. whether that growth spurt is for the better or for worse, i can't really tell. although i do know somewhere inside me the wind has settled, leaves are basking under the golden sun, and the occasional butterfly lands gracefully to stop and smell the daisies.

everyone likes to feel that they are in control of their lives, their emotions and of their needs. sometimes, the uncertainty sets in and we begin to panic, always searching for the next best rational solution to be in control again. but we don't always have to hold our head over our hearts, do we? you will exhaust yourself swimming against the current to get to that shore. so let it go, and drift upon the river flow. spread your arms apart and float, listen to that water wading gently up against your ears. not forever, but just for a little while as you balance yourself out.

strangely, i feel like a tiny weed growing out of the cracks in a barren land. it hurts and sometimes it can be really difficult because solitude is not always as sturdy as it promises to be. today i will stop and smell the daisies, perhaps i'll even pick one to put in my hair. i hope it lasts, that sweet floral scent of spring.

Labels: life, pain

“Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap." - Robert Fulghum

i am mortified. i have leaky boobs.

*runs screaming into the sunset*

Labels: life

The sky is laced with fitful red,
The circling mists and shadows flee,
The dawn is rising from the sea,
Like a white lady from her bed.

And jagged brazen arrows fall
Athwart the feathers of the night,
And a long wave of yellow light
Breaks silently on tower and hall,

And spreading wide across the wold
Wakes into flight some fluttering bird,
And all the chestnut tops are stirred,
And all the branches streaked with gold.

Impression - Le Reveillon by Oscar Wilde

“I start to think there really is no cure for depression, that happiness is an ongoing battle, and I wonder if it isn't one I'll have to fight for as long as I live. I wonder if it's worth it.” - Elizabeth Wurtzel

my heart feels broken. it was shattered into many shards, crushed under your feet, and thrown into the wind. a piece of me has melted away. i don't know how many times i can bear with this uncertainty, this unsatisfiable longing. should i keep count?

we are on a merry-go-round where there are too many people on board for us to see each other clearly. i reach out to hold your hand but you have both of them welded tightly to the rails, worrying that if for a moment you loosen up, the whirling go-rounder will throw you off balance. it is not very merry, i think.

i want to run away from my impulses. i am a baby, and i want to cry. i want to do many things, and i don't want to do anything at all. are you confused? because i am. sometimes, it is very difficult to make decisions. big ones, little ones, they all change your life in some way or other. you might lose something you will never get back or gain something you wished you never had to, but we make decisions anyway.

i want something you aren't willing to give. what can you give? just slap me across the face, tell me to wake the fuck up. whichever way i turn, it kills me inside. inside out.

bruised and broken, i simply can't soar my wings to fly again. the fairytale was written by a crook prisoned for murder. he scribbles on the dark dirty walls with his fingers as his pen, his blood as his ink, his mind as his inspiration, his heart as his beliefs. he wants no happy ending, and leaves the joyless tale halted midway as his blood ran dry, smearing the last few letters with livid drops of pain.

you are a fucking coward. damn you, just shut the fuck up. something's changed, can't you tell? i know. it's in the air. it swirls, like those bits of tea at the bottom of my glass. it tastes bittersweet, like tears.

Labels: life, pain

“A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself as a liar” - Mark Twain

i couldn't sleep. i woke at 4am this morning to a cruel storm and incessant thunder. lightning popped my circuit twice, and i groped about in the dark trying to climb up the creaky sofa and flip the circuit switch back on. after it popped the second time, i almost gave up fixing it since it's just gonna keep popping every time thunder strikes. but... nobody wants to wake up to a fridge full of stinky green and brown mold now do we?

as i huddled under my warm cuddly duvet listening to the angry storm, my ears perked up to howling echoes outside my window. it sounded so sad, almost as if it was in inconsolable grief. the rain didn't stop for a long long time, and i just drifted back to sleep with honeyed pancakes as the last thing on my mind.

no i doubt that was the last thing; i wonder if it was a wolf? why did it sound so sad and alone? i hope it rains again tonight. it will be a comfortable snuggly nap before i wake up early morn' to head to the hospital. i will be good, we will all be good. i won't feel a thing. i hope.

Labels: blues

“My knees start to shake, when you're in sight,
my mind's filled with wonder, my heart with fright." - Anonymous

i woke up late afternoon to a persistent growling in my tummy. ahh, hunger. i felt like a little japanese food, so i went and rummaged through my cabinet of dusty groceries and expired cereals for a half-used bag of pearl rice, sushi mix, sweetened fried tofu skin, inori seaweed and furikake seasoning.

with everything lined up neatly on the kitchen table, i eagerly poured out the pearl rice into a bowl.

*shrieks*

OMG. i have been rearing a fat strong army of weevils. disgust eats away at my face like the mega-sized rice devils chewing happily at my expensive rice, festering and looking hungrily up at me from their overpopulated rice bag. i fed them well, all of them so plump and juicy, bigger than the grains themselves.

with some hesitation, fright and trembling, i chucked them down the rubbish chute, bowl and all. oh, and the entire bag of rice too. note to self: always use air-tight containers to prevent little devils having sex and populating in my rice. always.

*shudders*

Labels: food, uck and f

“You and I do not see things as they are. We see things as we are.” - Anonymous

there are certain memories that floats at the back of my head refusing to let go of my heart strings, determined to make me its puppet to fool with. i turned on the music and rested my mind as Olivia sings one of my favorite: Fly Me To The Moon. this bossa nova rendition holds heaps of my loveliest moments in life that i can't seem to relive. time lapses, circumstances changes, people too. it is an eternity Plato cannot furnish.

"I do not understand why your stories are often lonely and sad," Paul said. we are all finding our place in this world. nobody can go back and start a new beginning but anyone can start today and make a new ending. i am writing an ending for myself, but i can't let go of the beginnings so wretched, words come out broken and rueful and it just stayed that way. you should read me when the festive holidays come around, it gets unsightly(haha). i guess i am not ready to surrender what i am now for what i will become, not just yet, but i know i will eventually.

Lissa questioned if the opposite of indifference is everything, with regards to yesterday's post. i wasn't so sure myself. what i do understand is that with indifference, one dies before one actually dies. it may be a strong emotion(or the lack of) that kills everything in sight, but love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart and the senses. we know that all too well, don't we? perhaps it's true - the opposite of indifference... is everything.

“We come. We go. And in between we try to understand.” - Rod Steiger

sipping at a cup of warm chamomile tea, i await the hypnotic lull to droopy eyelids and gentle snoring. it doesn't happen. the day started out full of sunny anticipation, but ended in apathetic lethargy. i drop a pill into the cup, listening to the sizzling noise as effervescence takes place.

sometimes it is difficult to understand the how and the why of life, the who brings pain much, and the when ready will ever come. am i losing you? probably. are you perplexed at why my mind unfurls like labyrinthine byways of modern literature?

i watch as the tiny bits of leaves escape the tea bag and settles at the bottom of my glass. i gave it a little stir and the bits start to swirl. something is dying inside and i don't know how to fix it. instead, i turn to indifference. it is one of the most powerful emotion(or the lack of).

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.
The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.
The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.
And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. - Elie Wiesel

contempt and stonewalling is poison. how do we retain that fondness and admiration for love?

“Logic is one thing, the human animal another. You can quite easily propose a logical solution to something and at the same time hope in your heart of hearts it won't work out.” - Luigi Pirandello

"What do you want for lunch today," the man asks, his unkind tone harboring on impatience. She orders one turkey ham sandwich and a lemonade. The man pulls out his mobile and starts texting to an imaginary recipient, fingers making those click-click-click noise. She watches for a moment and hesitates before saying, "I started writing again. Do you wan-" He snaps, "Later, dammit."

She downs half a cup of iced water that the nice waiter had given without charge, hoping to quench her edgy thirst. She yearns to stand up and leave without so much of a glance, but she doesn't do so. She is hurt by his careless dismissal of everything she cares about. "Don't count on things to change, honey. You will have better luck thinking that things won't," a motherly voice echoed from behind her shoulder. She turns back nervously, and sees nothing but a fiery red painting on the wall.

Looking up at the man still busy with his technological devices, she fidgets in her seat, trying to keep it together. She opens her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the abrupt presentation of food on the table. The waiter smiles a sunny smile at her. "Your lemonade and sandwich, Miss. Enjoy your meal."

The waiter winks cheekily at her as she blushed red to the roots. She glances nervously at her love sitting across from her, but he takes no heed. Caught up in his own world, that he is. She reaches for another drink from the cup but spills a fountain when she knocks it over. The man grunts peevishly, suddenly brought back to the quaint cafe as lemonade seeps through the table cloth and drips down on his expensive jeans. A mean frown appeared and he yells, "Fuck it woman, what the fuck!" She stood up defiantly, tears welling and she stared straight ahead as if she could see right through him. The cuckoo clock chimes twice, breaking the tense silence in the cafe.

“Anger is just a cowardly extension of sadness. It's a lot easier to be angry at someone than it is to tell them you're hurt.” - Tom Gates

i woke up this morning and started typing away fervently at the keys. i posted that story for a second here, but took it down almost immediately. it was too depressing to start the day with a joyless fiction. my head hurts from all that ambiguous, in between the lines dreariness, so i guess i will stash it away for a rainy day.

i was just packing my stuff - shampoo bottle, towels and an extra set of clothes. no i am not running away to the hotel again because the weather is too hot to nap. as a cheaper alternative, i am going to chill by the pool today, watch a movie after, then have dinner. it's a day filled with activities to look forward to, but somehow when you get a hint of annoyance from the person you are going to spend it with, you tend to feel a little misplaced. tired of being tired of.

see that's why no depressing fiction today.

“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities." - Dr. Seuss

when life's harsh reality scrunch your panties up in a bunch, what do you do? it's one of those days, where the sky is blue, birds chirp, and everything seems alright. but somewhere inside, you know something has gone wrong. so terribly wrong.

i woke from my weekend slumber hoping to see familiar faces, do familiar stuff, say familiar words. that hope was like ice cream in an oven, dripping what's left down the grills, making a sad sizzling noise when it hits the heated rod.

i ask for too much, "Was I, really?".

"Yes... You were, really."

so i let go of the balloon i tied to my wrist, and after watching it go higher and higher up till nothing is left of it, i looked down and realized i had gotten a painful red mark on my wrist as a souvenir. not a souvenir; a reminder. "That's what you get for tying it down so tightly", he says.

“I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.” - Emily Carr

a wonderful thing.

“Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi, sed saepe cadendo; A drop of water hollows a stone, not by force, but by continuously dripping” - Ovid

once in a while you make friends who have the power to restore your faith in humanity. once in the greatest while you make friends who can restore your faith in yourself. and i found one today - in me.

and i am holding to that newly regained faith like a child grabbing on tightly to her balloon, trying unsuccessfully with one free hand to tie it around her wrist. i worry i'll slip and let the faith balloon float away to nothingness.

so tonight, i will go to bed and sleep for a long long time. i will tie that balloon to my feet, at least i have both hands free to work up a fast knot, and if luck will have it, the allegiant balloon will carry me away for a short vacation in slumberland. i might open one eye on sunday to peek at what's going on in blogland(and maybe to pee), but otherwise, see you peeps monday.

“Unless commitment is made, there are only promises and hopes; but no plans.” - Peter F. Drucker

that someone upstairs likes to twiddle with my life audaciously. but i have onion soup. onion soup sustains. the process of making it is somewhat like the process of learning to love. it requires commitment, stupendous effort, time, and will make you cry.

passion is the quickest to develop, and also the quickest to fade. intimacy develops more slowly, and commitment more gradually still. the little girl watches as hands of the grandfather clock moves unhurriedly across the handcrafted oaken slate, convinced that time deliberately took its time with him. her gaze fell upon the closed doors and the evening sun that came in through the cracks. she waits to hear the footsteps coming up the porch, to see the gentle tug on the turning knob, and to lounge ardently into his arms so sudden he won't know what hit him.

but we're not talking about the little girl here, we're talking about me. i want to be extraordinary together, not ordinary apart. so love me back. yearn the touch of my hand across your face, miss the smell of my hair that reminds you of rose hips and chamomile, come back and plant a gentle kiss on my lips and tell me you want me. and i, i will make you onion soup. perhaps with a little beef in it for extra taste. and a heart shaped sunny side up garnished with a peck of fresh parsley. so let me love you. i can cook well. i can make onion soup.

“A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely not happen.” - Edward de Bono

i put up a little mariah carey's just for a couple of days. the occasional song that hits the bullseye in the aching heart needs a place for it to be shared. if you don't like it, turn the volume down.

“It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.” - Rodan of Alexandria

a crown, if it hurts us, is not worth wearing. i am so tired. my head just wants to deflate like a forgotten beach ball. i don't see the sand and sea, nor the skies and trees. i am kept at the back of the storage room, stashed away in a broken box with no lid that i can peek from under other beach toys and see a dim ray of light coming in through the vent. dust floats airily around the room without a care in the world, sometimes settling on used furniture and piles of books when they get tired. i grow smaller every day, and become molded into odd shapes and angles under the weight of the other beach toys sitting upon me. and i watch.

i want to be like dust, i thought. i would like to settle down when i am exhausted. i wish i could float freely without responsibilities. perhaps i could have a dust partner to dance with. that would be peachy. but i am just a beach ball with the air going out of me. well, that's dandy too.

Author's note: Popcorn hoo-hah, anyone?

“To cheat oneself out of love is the most terrible deception; it is an eternal loss for which there is no reparation, either in time or in eternity” - Soren Kierkegaard

disappointment. it's not difficult. it is not difficult at all. i spent the night telling myself i should let it go. why do you care? people come and go, they aren't honest one hundred percent of the time, and you aren't even sure they like you at all sometimes.

one lie can spark off a long stretch of doubt, fear and unhappiness. it isn't difficult. it is unbearable.

you cannot justify a lie. it is choice, not reason. once you make that awful awful choice, you lose credibility. and that is a very hard thing to earn. maybe you felt i forced you to have to lie - but it never is reason enough. trust me on the second paragraph, i know. one lie leads to another, then it spirals out of your hands, out of control. even if you didn't mean to.

“The true artist has the planet for his pedestal; the adventurer, after years of strife, has nothing broader than his shoes” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The happiest part of a man's life is what he passes lying awake in bed in the morning” - Samuel Johnson

it was a rainy morning. the wind pelted raindrops clumsily against my open window, some of them fell into the room and landed on me. i woke, arching my back lazily like a reluctant cat.

leaving the window as it is, i picked up a book hoping it would lull me back to slumber. i fell asleep reading the dull book and dreamed i kept on reading, so i awoke from sheer boredom. no use old girl, i thought. you might as well surrender. your hopes are getting slender, why won't somebody send a tender blue boy to cheer up little girl blue?

i twiddled with the collar pin enclosed in the letter nurses' association sent me. strangely, with a mind of its own, the pin's cover fell off and it pricked me. i withdrew my thumb, jaw dropped and aghast at the mean pin. i watched as it sat there looking ever so innocent, gleefully hiding a smirk.

i gave up and rolled over to the other end of the bed. you're looking at me, i said. i turned back, and sure enough, it was. a dust cloth flew over and covered the mean thing. magically, of course, at a wave of my hand. you needn't strain your eyes to see what i want you to see, i mumbled incoherently right before i dozed off watching the mean pin wriggling under the dust cloth. it's june, my second favorite time of the year. it's my sleeping month. the month i sleep most. i call it the sleep month. the running away month. the go away month. you get the idea, don't you?

bring me violets and put them under my nose. perhaps i'll wake if you please me. it's the sleeping month.

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.” - Albert Camus (French Novelist, Essayist and Playwright, 1957 Nobel Prize for Literature, 1913-1960)

“We know we're getting old when the only thing we want for our birthday is not to be reminded of it.” - Anonymous

the sun, with all those plants revolving around it and dependent upon it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do. that's exactly how age sneaks up on us, so stealthily we often are caught unawares until some early morning, we spot those fine beginnings of laugh wrinkles, and cry wrinkles, and those odd gray hair amongst the brown in the person we're looking at thru' the looking glass. or also when we meet somebody new, they always remind us of someone we already know. there are compensations for growing older. one is the realization that to be sporting isn't at all necessary. it is a great relief to reach this stage of wisdom, i say.

artificial intelligence is a wonderful thing. i told my computer today is my birthday, and it said that i needed an upgrade. birthdays are occasions for looking forward to the making of plans, for dreaming dreams, and hoping they will come true. a year ago today, i wanted to make a change. i would not lament the lack of a father those lonely kiddy birthdays, and decided that i might just find someone who wants to spend it with me for the rest - nothing special, nothing loud. blame it on the wisdom talking.

this year, this day, i made another decision. a couple of 'em, in fact. i will upgrade my mac after all, just some time next year, when the friking MacBook Air drops its price. even a dollar cut will satisfy my unfaltering stand that the fancy thing is way overpriced. *shakes fists*

that, and that tiny aefiel is not coming true. still, Paul, your words remind me so much of what could have become. so thank you - for thinking that way too. i will miss tiny aefiel. but some day, some damn fine day, tiny aefiel will give the world a little everything of what it needs.

it's not a happy birthday, but it is still a birthday filled with hopeful kisses, and promising wishes. it may even be a tad deplorable. but we know misery loves company, and i don't want company much these days. a passing phase of melancholy will heal itself. some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.

regardless, birthdays are good for us. statistics show that the people who have the most, live the longest. so... happy birthday to me.

"Mothers are fonder than fathers of their children because they are more certain they are their own." - Aristotle

Henry David Thoreau told me that the man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready. i have been waiting all my life to make things happen. and i am still waiting on something, someone, somewhere tonight.

a mail package addressed to me arrived this morning. i tore the brown paper packaging eagerly to reveal a pair of sunshine yellow baby socks. the sender didn't leave a name, just left a card with this one word carefully inscribed on the back: "Congratulations". i stopped breathing for a second while my heart did a somersault from my spleen to my bladder.

later at night, i got to thinking about the mysterious gift. it made me realize i don't really need a hand to hold once i have got my mind set on it. i can't really say i have got my heart set on this, because it is currently stuck in between the bladder and the growing uterus(...i need to pee). the heart is growing more attached to the little one every single day, and i don't want to wait. not on anyone, not on this.

i feel better already.

...who am i kidding?

“Happiness isn't something you experience; it's something you remember.” - Oscar Levant

I wanna live life and never be cruel
And I wanna live life and be good to you
And I wanna fly and never come down
And live my life and have friends around

We never change, do we? No, no
We never learn, do we?
So I wanna live in a wooden house

I wanna live life and always be true
And I wanna live life and be good to you
And I wanna fly and never come down
And live my life and have friends around

We never change, do we? No, no
We never learn, do we?
So I wanna live in a wooden house
Where making more friends would be easy

Oh, and I don't have a soul to save,
Yes and I sin every single day

We never change, do we?
We never learn, do we?

We never change, do we?
We never learn, do we?
So I wanna live in a wooden house
Where making more friends would be easy
I wanna live where the sun comes out - We Never Change, Coldplay

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” - Aldous Huxley

the tears won't stop flowing tonight. the wine stands quietly by a half-read book, a rim of red stains the base of the glass. a pill sizzle on my tongue as i put the music on play. soft twinkling sounds fill a corner of the room, setting an atmosphere appropriate for almost slumber. i laid down and hugged teddy close. a pile of used tissues falter in the cool wind by the pillows. i stare at it, waiting for the pill to take its effect. it never came. i took another sip of the redness and waited.

no one is real, i thought. you reading this, are you real? can i reach out to touch your face, brush your fringe away from the corners of your eyes, and hold you close for some warmth? i can't. you are only real in my head, i lament.

this is so inexplicably ludicrous, so unexpectedly rueful i cannot commiserate enough. i lived by the rule of indifference, and today i realize that i am a wild child. i don't live by anyone's rules, not even my own.

i am a wild child. a fair inamorata. a contrite sinner. a woeful mother. a jaded old hat. tonight, i am all that. what are you?

"At least two thirds of our miseries spring from human stupidity, human malice and those great motivators and justifiers of malice and stupidity, idealism, dogmatism and proselytizing zeal on behalf of religious or political idols." - Aldous Huxley

i posted that quote before, some time back in last year. but i am posting it again, because i am simply amazed by the tacky politics at the educational institute i enroll at. namely, the people i work with almost everyday.

this is reality: the difficult down-to-earth, in-your-face, up-your-butt kind. in a healthcare environment where compassion thrives, care is given, and love is shared - or at least used to - has become a front for the competition, the cunnings, the guarded, and the diplomatic.

some experts label this amazing discovery as the "reality shock". i label this as the "reality rock". it has been a tough month being the brunt of political attacks, where people demand a certain amount of respect far more than what their white paper cups can hold, and where sensitivity is no longer a desired art. but we will rock on, baby. ride high on this political tide, because we know we have what it takes to sail our way to the pinnacle of astuteness.

tips to stay alive where the politics are rife:

1. stay cool and judicious in examining the facts.
2. we are very loving people, but still, to each his own.
3. a discreet silence is often better than offering an explanation.
4. because people are merciful only when mercy was expedient.
5. yes, regardless of your innocence.

anais nin says when we blindly adopt a religion, a political system, a literary dogma, we become automatons. we cease to grow. i say that in politics, your enemies can't hurt you, but your friends will murder you. so keep abreast of the tacky politics, or you can kiss your sail goodbye.

“One cannot shoe a running horse” - Dutch Proverb

are you ready?

stand still with me, then perhaps i can shoe you. oh be still.

a man sits along the quiet gray aisle, playing a game of stack the pebbles with himself. he curses as the last pebble rolled off the top of six. so close, he laments. we all have times we feel frustrated, shipwrecked and alone. but there are also times where you see that warm welcoming glimmer of light - no, not the dying kind; the hopeful kind. the simplest things, perhaps even the unrelated, can lighten up your day. a person's laughter, an unexpected kiss, a random act of kindness.

some people want to get what's fair, and are prepared to fight arm and leg for it. but fair ain't what you really need. your glass is empty, and it's a hell of a long way home. so hold on to yourself, keep still. and let me shoe you. then you can run, as wild and far as your imagination takes you.


Through this world I've stumbled
So many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word
To find the truth enslaved
Oh you speak to me in riddles
And you speak to me in rhyme
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive

And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear

- Sarah Mclachlan

"Maybe mistakes are what make our fate - without them what would shape our lives? Maybe if we had never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, have babies, or be who we are." - SATC

spies came out of the water, the scribbles on a note read. she picks up a pen and put it to the paper, scribbling even more as the train swerved sharply. adrenalin surged, coursing through her body to her hands. the man watches as she held on tightly to her bags, slipping the note into her undershirt thinking no one noticed.

a baby flew through the air across the cabin, landing harshly in a pile of fur brought on board for trading. wails and cried rang out, startling the little thing into doing the same. no sooner the baby exposed her teething gums all set to scream, the train came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the barren land.

the silent wind took the voices and screeches away, bustling along in its path some leaves and tiny beetles. it was quiet, a peaceful sort of serene you couldn't get from being alone in an empty room or meditation. it is that kind of staid pause you can only get from dead people and resting wreckage. the baby suckled on its thumb, finding comfort in the familiar. it slept, so did everyone else on board. or under.

“Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much, but you have to crawl into your wounds to discover where your fears are. Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.” - Tori Amos

i couldn't sleep. the mind weighs heavily on the heart, almost making it unbearable to breathe. yes, i have a blocked nose. i have been trying to sleep for the past three hours. unfortunately, i do have a lot on my mind, in my head, above the shelves, under the duvet, inside my heart, and seeping out through the busy fingers.

the breeze ruffles my curtains every once in a while, and the twinkling sounds from my starry ornaments hanging by the window interrupts the silence of the night. i was comfortable under the duvet with my arms wrapped around a blostie, pretending it were someone i missed. a sudden gripping thirst showed up, and i wriggled my way down from under the duvet and rolled onto the ground. i paused to wonder how i'd like to get to the refrigerator 4 meters away. walk? too boring. crawl, roll again, hop? i ended up getting there the boring way.

i poured myself a tall glass of cold water and sat there in front of the fridge, its door wide open and flashing me its contents. i shudder. then i walked back to my bed, leaving the tall glass on the ground in front of the refrigerator. someone might break the glass come morning if someone is not careful, sleepy with half-closed eyes. i might if i forget about the position of the glass, or that i have had a glass of water before bed, or that i forget as i never did sleep after all.

present tense, or past tense? future tense too? i contemplate the veridical use of language. i stopped contemplating because my stomach growled and reminded me of its existence. the peanut must be hungry. but i can't eat anything, the nausea overwhelms me sometimes. it is overwhelming me now. then it stopped.

it was a big decision. it is more than big - it is awash, brimming, intense, gigantesque; it is consequential. past tense, present tense, who cares now? does the peanut care? perhaps not. it is too little to know what to care about. but i am not too little, i am just not very brave. we made our choice, and it is a painful one - excruciatingly painful i thought i might die. i am not dead yet, but i am broken. and you can't fix me.

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I know where you sleep.

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