September 28, 2011
September 19, 2011
because we could have been.
the figure I saw was alot taller.
he was wearing a dark blue silk batik shirt with matching black trousers.
I wasn't sure if it was you. it sure hell did look alot like you.
i don't remember you being so tall but you were. and you easily lifted me off the ground. i still couldn't believe it was you as I held you tight in embrace, letting my mind and body slowly accept at it's pace that it was in fact the man of my life that has been missing the past three years.
your face. you looked happy, healthy and well. i don't remember if there were wrinkles or frown lines but you did look free. like you didn't have concerns for the world or the people who used to weigh you down. such a carefree solitude you exuded. you marveled me, just the way elegant and poised characters in books did.
a solid conversation never really formed. you were quiet most of the time while I did all the questioning and bickering. which was indeed rare because it used to be the other way around. in my mind, I knew then we were both changed people. and after three years of me growing up when you went missing, I felt all the discreet elements of meager surprise and distinct nostalgia to what might have been and what could be in our next exchange of words and glances.
we were then walking to what seemed like where I was staying.
i asked you more and more questions of your disappearance and how and why you did; you merely stated that it was private and confidential. a pierce of intangible certainty went right through me. I nodded to your minimalistic reply, still aimlessly lingering in the labyrinth of wondering who this new person was and accepting you as a whole.
I wondered how much of your life I have missed in the last three years, just as how you missed my graduation from high school, my first driving class, my first day into college, my first day of prom and all the days in which i wished you were nearby.
there was a few portions of laughter and smiles; a little bit of familiarity seeping into the empty spaces that set themselves between us. slowly enough, everything would go back to normal. life could pick up again from where it was last left off. it was going to be great. it was going to be like old times again. we were going to be the father and daughter we used to be.
and then i woke up.
you were never there to see my graduate, nor were you there to see me fumble on my first day of driving class, to see me make my first steps into tertiary education, to tell me that i looked beautiful as i put on that prom dress, to tell me that you love me whenever i felt like i needed to know that i was loved.
i woke up.
and to this, i need to wake up over and over again.
Genius Next Door- Regina Spektor
he was wearing a dark blue silk batik shirt with matching black trousers.
I wasn't sure if it was you. it sure hell did look alot like you.
and then i saw your face.
it was you.
i don't remember you being so tall but you were. and you easily lifted me off the ground. i still couldn't believe it was you as I held you tight in embrace, letting my mind and body slowly accept at it's pace that it was in fact the man of my life that has been missing the past three years.
tears ran down my face as if they were racing for the ground.
'where have you been all this time?', i asked.
your face. you looked happy, healthy and well. i don't remember if there were wrinkles or frown lines but you did look free. like you didn't have concerns for the world or the people who used to weigh you down. such a carefree solitude you exuded. you marveled me, just the way elegant and poised characters in books did.
a solid conversation never really formed. you were quiet most of the time while I did all the questioning and bickering. which was indeed rare because it used to be the other way around. in my mind, I knew then we were both changed people. and after three years of me growing up when you went missing, I felt all the discreet elements of meager surprise and distinct nostalgia to what might have been and what could be in our next exchange of words and glances.
we were then walking to what seemed like where I was staying.
i asked you more and more questions of your disappearance and how and why you did; you merely stated that it was private and confidential. a pierce of intangible certainty went right through me. I nodded to your minimalistic reply, still aimlessly lingering in the labyrinth of wondering who this new person was and accepting you as a whole.
I wondered how much of your life I have missed in the last three years, just as how you missed my graduation from high school, my first driving class, my first day into college, my first day of prom and all the days in which i wished you were nearby.
why must it be so difficult?
we found each other. that's all that matters.
there was a few portions of laughter and smiles; a little bit of familiarity seeping into the empty spaces that set themselves between us. slowly enough, everything would go back to normal. life could pick up again from where it was last left off. it was going to be great. it was going to be like old times again. we were going to be the father and daughter we used to be.
and then i woke up.
you were never there to see my graduate, nor were you there to see me fumble on my first day of driving class, to see me make my first steps into tertiary education, to tell me that i looked beautiful as i put on that prom dress, to tell me that you love me whenever i felt like i needed to know that i was loved.
i woke up.
and to this, i need to wake up over and over again.
Genius Next Door- Regina Spektor
September 10, 2011
because I must be merciful.
5. Think of someone who has hurt you. How will you treat that person with love?
I'm a pretty tough person to convince when it comes to matters of the heart and soul because I'm the type of person who needs to see what she believes and invests her faith in. I believe heavily in coincidence, and how things can happen simply because in our world, trillions of wonderful and terrible and intricately small things are happening; from the forming of morning mist on leaves and the discreet ticking of a mine bomb set somewhere in a crying country. Or in the words of 500 Days of Summer, you can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence. that's all anything ever is.
well, not all.
as you have read from my previous post or didn't, I had a shit morning. and I was furious beyond measure. just a few hours ago, I learnt that the one thing that is not coincidental in my life is the way my God seeps His way into my everyday activities like a complete troll and slaps me in the face. well, it feels more like a nice water splash than slap but in this case, it was a slap.
If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect a repayment, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' lend to 'sinners', expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend them without expecting to get anything back. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
- Luke 7:32-36
'The important thing is not that we are vindicated before our enemies but that we become more like God in our character. This is the greatest reward anyone can receive, far greater than riches, food, laughter, or popularity. Those things will one day vanish, but character will last for eternity.'
A Postcard to Nina- Jens Lekman
know why I love you, God?
because You cannot be more direct. thanks ah
I'm a pretty tough person to convince when it comes to matters of the heart and soul because I'm the type of person who needs to see what she believes and invests her faith in. I believe heavily in coincidence, and how things can happen simply because in our world, trillions of wonderful and terrible and intricately small things are happening; from the forming of morning mist on leaves and the discreet ticking of a mine bomb set somewhere in a crying country. Or in the words of 500 Days of Summer, you can't ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence. that's all anything ever is.
well, not all.
as you have read from my previous post or didn't, I had a shit morning. and I was furious beyond measure. just a few hours ago, I learnt that the one thing that is not coincidental in my life is the way my God seeps His way into my everyday activities like a complete troll and slaps me in the face. well, it feels more like a nice water splash than slap but in this case, it was a slap.
If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect a repayment, what credit is that to you? Even 'sinners' lend to 'sinners', expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend them without expecting to get anything back. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
- Luke 7:32-36
'The important thing is not that we are vindicated before our enemies but that we become more like God in our character. This is the greatest reward anyone can receive, far greater than riches, food, laughter, or popularity. Those things will one day vanish, but character will last for eternity.'
on a completely separate note,
I will tame myself to be more merciful for paintball tomorrow.
SO FRIGGIN READY BRO
A Postcard to Nina- Jens Lekman
September 9, 2011
because this is an anger post. don't read if you're faint-hearted.
hello.
it is 10:30 in the morning and I had just took the cab home from the LRT when actually, my brother was supposed to fetch me as planned yesterday and a half hour ago when I called kakak to wake him up. oh he woke up. but he told kakak to tell me to find my own way home and went back to sleep. see, kakak doesn't have my number. hence, I actually spent a half hour waiting at the LRT because in my mind and everyone's discerning mind, he was supposed to pick me up.
and then here comes the even more illogical argument that occurred yesterday when he stated clearly that I am (quote)not to drive the car past midnight(endquote). I had a ladies night planned for yesterday for quite some time already so I made him a deal; I'll take the car to my friend's place, she will drive the lot of us to and back from the club, sleepover and I drive home the next early morning because I have an event to attend in approximately half an hour from now. so technically, I'm not even driving past midnight. I stick by his rule.
but what does he say?
you know what's the best part?
I cannot tell this to anyone in my family because a)my mother would either a. i)not care or ii)take it seriously and blow up in his face when she gets back from China which will result in a one-sided cold war between me and the brother, b.i)my sister would say gorgor would never do that to me. maybe it's just you and b.ii)go on and on with her wipe ass stories of how she and the brother bonded over the time period of which I was in England and further reinstate that gorgor would never do that to me. maybe it's just you.
I am restricting myself from writing out all the foul words and sentences that have been forming in my head since when I took the cab home. if you know me well enough and actually have some sort of common sense to tell, my anger is not because I had to take out money to take public transport home; it's because my family revolves around a whole lot of illogical and ludicrous things.
not all.
just a whole damn lot.
so you who are reading this.
firstly, I don't even know why the hell you're reading this. do you have nothing else better to do than to read gibberish about a rant? I suggest you leave this page and go do something beneficial like read or watch a movie. i clearly stated this is an anger post.
secondly, whatever perception or idea you've had of me as the girl I've always been, you decide whether or not I am blowing things out of proportion + being a pointless tantrum. or even as a terrible sister for airing my dirty laundry to the cyber world. at this point of tolerance, I seriously cannot care. and after so long of caring, I am allowing myself to not care.
my anger subsided when the taxi driver, like 390% of all the taxi drivers that I have spoken to, asked me if I was Melayu ke Cina? because of my fluency in Bahasa. with a slip of tongue, I said I was Malay.
it is 10:30 in the morning and I had just took the cab home from the LRT when actually, my brother was supposed to fetch me as planned yesterday and a half hour ago when I called kakak to wake him up. oh he woke up. but he told kakak to tell me to find my own way home and went back to sleep. see, kakak doesn't have my number. hence, I actually spent a half hour waiting at the LRT because in my mind and everyone's discerning mind, he was supposed to pick me up.
and then here comes the even more illogical argument that occurred yesterday when he stated clearly that I am (quote)not to drive the car past midnight(endquote). I had a ladies night planned for yesterday for quite some time already so I made him a deal; I'll take the car to my friend's place, she will drive the lot of us to and back from the club, sleepover and I drive home the next early morning because I have an event to attend in approximately half an hour from now. so technically, I'm not even driving past midnight. I stick by his rule.
but what does he say?
(quote)How bout I drop you off at your friend's place and you come back by LRT tomorrow and I'll pick you up from the station(endquote).
you know what's the best part?
I cannot tell this to anyone in my family because a)my mother would either a. i)not care or ii)take it seriously and blow up in his face when she gets back from China which will result in a one-sided cold war between me and the brother, b.i)my sister would say gorgor would never do that to me. maybe it's just you and b.ii)go on and on with her wipe ass stories of how she and the brother bonded over the time period of which I was in England and further reinstate that gorgor would never do that to me. maybe it's just you.
gee.
THANKS FOR THE RELEVANT INPUT.
I am restricting myself from writing out all the foul words and sentences that have been forming in my head since when I took the cab home. if you know me well enough and actually have some sort of common sense to tell, my anger is not because I had to take out money to take public transport home; it's because my family revolves around a whole lot of illogical and ludicrous things.
not all.
just a whole damn lot.
so you who are reading this.
firstly, I don't even know why the hell you're reading this. do you have nothing else better to do than to read gibberish about a rant? I suggest you leave this page and go do something beneficial like read or watch a movie. i clearly stated this is an anger post.
secondly, whatever perception or idea you've had of me as the girl I've always been, you decide whether or not I am blowing things out of proportion + being a pointless tantrum. or even as a terrible sister for airing my dirty laundry to the cyber world. at this point of tolerance, I seriously cannot care. and after so long of caring, I am allowing myself to not care.
my anger subsided when the taxi driver, like 390% of all the taxi drivers that I have spoken to, asked me if I was Melayu ke Cina? because of my fluency in Bahasa. with a slip of tongue, I said I was Malay.
September 5, 2011
because if circumstances could be different,
I'd be out and about in my Burberry trench coat strutting in my shiny Louboutin pumps, sipping on Starbucks everyday as i flick through Vogue and Cosmopolitan and making appointments with socialites and rich stuck ups and people of the same kind.
but no.
when I was born, I had no silver spoon in my mouth, only a pacifier.
never had I been able to afford anything with a luxurious price tag. not that I want to anyway, just the sound of my opening sentence seemed better with all those fancy schmancy brands thrown in.
I was watching Heath Ledger's memorial tribute on tv a couple hours ago for the 27th time, really and I cried when the people in the interview couldn't stop talking about what an amazing person he was and how his daughter, Matilda, would be missing out on the amazing father than he had been.
it kills me, really.
to see unfortunate things happen to good people.
i mean it really kills me.
nothing worries me more than seeing the people I love go through tormenting episodes of emotional pain and anguish. it makes me wish i could do something other than just listen, you know? like being there isn't enough. because after my own emotional downfall of when my dad left me three years ago, I have forced myself to remember to treasure time like they're prickly specks of glass shattered and blown all over with the wind; you catch them, grasping them like they're sparkling shards of diamonds before they fall to the ground and blend in with the earth, where you'd no longer be able to differentiate them from dirt and dust.
and yet,
I often feel like there's not enough time.
there are times when I'm just too tired with my own burdens to reach out a helping hand, hence feeling very selfish and unthoughtful. times when I myself have my own emotional downfalls but yet have to pick myself back up without rebuilding the crumbled walls because I see someone reaching the edge of their despair and I run to them. I just run.
I feel stretched in all kinds of directions.
like some sort of Play-dough piece in physical abuse.
if circumstances could be different,
I wish there were multiple versions of me.
so I can drive right now to your house and hug you and tell you to snap out of all this negativity you built around you, so I can go to your place to watch a movie with you so you don't have to watch it alone, so I can have dinner with you before you start of your degree in a different college, so I can stay behind for that group meeting that I always miss, so I can slap you in the face to wake you up to the reality that your biggest problem is you, so I can have cupcakes with you and thank you for being my best friend, so I can write that damn essay that i haven't been able to write because i've been sick, so I would have been able to write that essay because there would've been Healthy JuYi, so I can tell you again and again that only someone really deserving of you is worth your every attention, so I can let you know that you're never alone despite how lonesome it feels all the time.
so I can do alot more things at a go.
and not risk the chances of you, and you, and you falling.
Hello I'm In Delaware- City and Colour
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