i wish i could paint..

if every stroke could take a piece of me away.
every movement, so languid and full-bodied that the release could free the tension.
the colours, splashed in all directions with no end at all..
freedom like never known before, beckoning across the white canvas.

i wish i could leave at once..
for greener pastures and a new beginning.
but how can i leave in peace, when there is so much that holds me back and stops me from running the extra mile.
for which is the bigger sacrifice,
the possibility of a better tomorrow, or the certainty of happiness today?

i wish i did not care..
because then i would not harbour hopes so high they drove me giddy,
unknowingly inviting the bitter taste of disappointment thereafter.
it's crazy, how i want so much to feel,
and yet loathe the entourage of emotions that keep expectations company.

and yet this is what makes me whole.
this is what makes me who i am today.
why i can lie on my bed and stare at the stars put up years ago..



and marvel at how they still glow in the dark.

i love you, but i hate what you've done to me.

the wounds can only make me stronger.

my Lovely Lace shirt says:

All I need to know about life I learned from my Teddy Bear

[insert pic of cute brown teddy bear face]

~ Hugs are even better than chocolate
~ There's no such thing as too many kisses
~ One good cuddle can change a grumpy day
~ Love is supposed to wear out your fur a little
~ It's okay to let your inside stuffing show now and then
~ Listening is as important as talking
~ Someone's got to keep their eyes open all the time
~ It's never too late to have a happy childhood
~ Everyone needs someone to hold them

funny how it only makes so much sense now when you've been wearing it to sleep for years.

homesong stories

waking up to find myself bathed in familiarity feels surreal.

nothing much has changed, nothing too drastic anyway. the curtains still shoulder the light beautifully, the sheets are in my favourite brown shade, the wardrobe is filled to the brim with clothes, knick knacks, diaries of the past.. and now, more junk brought back from melbourne. every door opened spells years of memories caught in mementos given from the heart.

yet i can't help but notice the subtle differences; things that go unnoticed unless you've been away for awhile. how the yellow tint has started show on the white water dispenser, how rain and shine has aged the teak wood furniture outside, how patches of water leakage are starting to show in the plaster ceiling above me, how the doors seem to have so many more scratches..

chester looks forlorn in his little corner, perking up every now and them to bark for attention. happy russell.. really doesnt seem all that happy anymore. could the lack of eyesight actually be getting to him? my heart breaks for these two. i wish i could see through their eyes, understand their longing, feel their pain.

living out of a suitcase isn't new anymore. time only halts for a breather when im not out catching up with friends, devouring local delicacies or running errands. times like these, when i have to force myself to sit down and reflect. because there are no classes to return to come february, because all the aunties and uncles prod me left right and centre for my future plans. questions im still finding the answers for.. answers that i've been running away from.

im 3 days late, but what have i learnt from the year of 2007?

the jubilant (and sometimes reluctant) graduate me.

more pictures soon.

handyman

fixing the shower head today.

so meticulous, handling the equipment with utmost care. something about the intense concentration in his eyes.. the genuine desire to make it all work smoothly. the subtle physical strength, toned and pulsing through the movements. so courteous on one hand, and yet so masculine on the other.

i could go on..

but in one word,

heart to heart

sun & wine at port melbourne

pensive..

one of those times, when i turn to words for clarity of thought- a weirdly fulfilling way of digesting the spurts of emotion, to learn and see for myself how my mind works. there was a word that daryl and lx once used back at deli france in BSC, to explain why people write only when during gloomy days. hah, im one of those people.. dwelling in extremes- overflowing words for rain, narcissistic pictures for sunshine. all this while being horribly cryptic, possibly because im detail-phobic when it comes to me.. or because ive grown so accustomed to using the sensitivity shield; the less you know, the less i have to explain!=D
.. doesnt always work out well- creating more confusion that wanted, igniting curiosity beyond my sharing capacity..in all sincerity, it's unintentional=]

reading..

a rarity, as many would know. now a nightly ritual, to read until the eyes are heavy.. and yet still pushing on to the very last word.

i kissed dating goodbye (the revelation clears up the fog- thank you pigs). little women. a maid from heaven. boy meets girl. the buddha, geoff and me (back to you next year, heids). a life unleashed (well-timed, josh. thank you!). laughter, the best malaysian (tickles fly silly).

so much depth in each; sporadic statements all over that do you in till dawn. exceptional insight, subtle and inspiring. uniquely different in their own ways, a spiritual awakening, childhood re-visitations, cheer ups for the soul. makes me think all over again; something i tried to avoid during the year. a great spring clean though, sorting through the jumble pummeled deep inside. saying hello to the doubts that still linger, accepting new values, finding strength to see them through.

being comfortable..
could never equate to contentment.. not for long anyway. a part of me wants so badly to stay put, but a larger part pushes me along the parlous path. the roadblock up ahead barricades you into asking what's next? there is no correct answer, only a slow inching of distance forward from trespassing new grounds. precarious, but so tangible.. so close.

21 is only a number..

it sums up a reckless youth, an untimed horizon of living for today, a searching chapter selfishly defined. an indefinite amount of moments to remember, to cherish, to feed the soul.

been wanting to write about my AIESEC Experience.. will get to it soon.

the clock still ticks..

time to move out of the comfort zone- refreshed and fire rekindled.
new year's resolutions..?

and so it ends

albeit on a sweltering hot note.
where was the heat when i needed it?
flies no more!
buzz no more!

the mental, emotional and physical breakdowns..
with the trustworthy golden bowl rescuers, the flyBong combo
decidedly a blessing or a lesson learnt,
depending on which way you look at it

binge-eating..
like you've never eaten before
munch, chomp, shiver with delight,
but mind you, consumed with guilt

breaking the dawn, with the sweat of a pen..
surely, the day will come when i will be one of them
who sashay the swotvac away
alas, a chance no more!

rising to the dreaded alarm..
even though you swore you barely slept 5 minutes ago
fasting on internet, living on V,
thriving on newfound friendships on the table

this is the point of no return..
when sleep beckons, but not taken
at the detriment of the body and soul
but the mind rests yay!

no cobwebs no more isaac?
and yes more procrastination kenny
i think i want a puppy.

way up high

leap, jump, shout,
reach for the stars

happiness is remembered in the moments.

i quote

one by one, they all left.

some words lose their meaning when said too often. most words have no meaning anymore.

you know you've lost something when you start avoiding people. and online dialogues. and e-mails.

and you find comfort in swirly substances and food.

time has never seemed so scarce.

since when was my tolerance level so low?

i want to be simple-minded. i want to sit down at mr tulk's when it's half full, soak up the sun (no wind please) and read a book.

i want to go back to school.

how could i lose the umbrella?

blood is thicker than water. and that's why time away from fluids is well worth the familial bond.

so i put on weight. big deal. prosperity goes a long way.

i miss everyone. but that just means i have no one here.

whirlwind, this is what this is.

(attempting to be) politically correct

6 old friends seated around an oversized table, last night's discussion was terribly enlightening and disturbingly frightening. stuck on a seesaw between kee's world of local pun, kampung boy mat and sustagenius ads versus hot belle (who chose the beast), slutty (when hypnotised by ja'afar) princess jasmine and sexy ariel ( who can sing underwater), the waitress must have heaved a huge sigh of relief to see off a group of noise leave too late into the night.

it is no startling fact, but this heightened awareness contrived by a ruthless discussion on the Malaysian government- it is a gnawing feeling of distrust enshrined by negative international press, secrets unveiled and underlying racial tension only discussed behind closed doors.

but who is to determine what is right?
by what standards do we aspire the authority to abide?
has there been and will there ever be a utilitarian framework of ethical judgements and shining transparency put to practice?

if anything, precedence breeds today's subtle but somewhat unsuccessful concealing act. unless there is a local jason bourne to save the day?


it is the same the world over.

agreed. humanity, in general, is too smart for the loopholes on the road. we all rejoice over public holidays, recoil at rising tax rates and rekindle the love for juicy tabloids. we take pride in luxurious cars, blaze through the city with anticipation of the vibrant nightlife, and take up that symbolic cheer of teh tarik over dented plastic tables.

i grew up with the loveliest "dik, nak tumpang ke..?" makciks as neighbours, a superstar athlete bestie who could beat me at the 100m sprint in her tudung and tracks, the fiercest indian jokers who made you laugh till you had stomach cramps, and a full-fledged (half) banana volleyball team who could not understand our competitors' mandarin. i still think ning baizura is beautiful, and that the enthralling performing arts industry in underrated.


in some weird and obscure way, i might have been affected by the admittedly biased NEP. along the way too, i realized it didnt really matter so much if i had a roof, some pocket money, an education, good fun and the bestest of friends. point is, i grew up happy.

i wouldnt trade the experience for the world, political injustice or not. im still going home.