Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
it's a facade, most of it.
best if it keeps all away.
defensive now, aren't we?
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Again After So Many "Word-Years".
This is Amy attempting to write again. I have abandoned myself for too long. It has been a brooding and trying time, although I will assure you like how I always have, that this is nothing more than an excuse. It is easier to sink myself in the swirl of sadness and murky feelings than to brave myself and face the mirror. At 26, you cannot kid yourself and still use that adolescent line of "the world just doesn't get us". Because after hopping from one place to another and always coming back to the same miserable spot you choose to cower yourself in, really, do you think the root problem is the surrounding?
I have become too comfortable in babying myself with the idea of accepting my dark side that it has fashioned itself into a form of a beanbag to cushion the blow of necessary missteps and fall that may follow the effort towards self-proliferation. It is a mere deception, it has been proven time and time again, but I suppose I like lying to myself.
And now, even after spilling this and re-reading it, the true meaning of it is still not hammering me where it hurts most. At best, it reads as a glaring, but passing remark. That is how chronically and morbidly I have been cheating on myself. The first step to anything is identifying what the problem is and admitting it. And then what? You can tell me what to do next. I already know it myself too. What you cannot do is make me do it.
I have the knowledge any philosophical guru may dispense. But I don't have their wisdom. And I sure as hell don't have the will or ultimately the belief in myself. Most everyone I meet I instantly give a free pass to magnify themselves before me. So as I shrink and shrink further and weep in the backroom- I built that room, and I drank that shrinking potion, and I walked myself there.
Do you know how much these all are not making sense in my head? Somewhere inside there, a part of my brain is shut. I am not waking up.
Friday, September 09, 2011
here we shall produce you the saddest girl in the train, the loneliest girl at the party and the most bitter girl in all that is festive.
if you let her push on the pedal off the cliff, she would just- hands gripping tightly on the steering wheel, heart pounding to get out of ribcage, eyes shut till the white bloodshed; all these, sure; but plunge off she would. she would.
are you one who knows what stops the girl?
Saturday, August 20, 2011
How He Bleeds Into Both His Lungs.
I don't know him. He was just a character in a story narrated to me by a colleague. I was not there when the accident happened, nor was I there to receive him for treatment, and certainly I did not witness his last moments on earth.
This is why he is merely another patient, another diagnosis, another case worth discussing with fellow doctors in hope to learn.
He can never be a person to me. I know not his name, nor his face, and I have not any hints about his upbringing, nor a glimpse into his personality; to construct an image in my head.
And as such, I do not grieve for him, but for his youth of fourteen.
Saturday, July 09, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
the very beats of my feet
have anger planting seed.
shall I begin to weep
sweats and blood in defeat
oh, what heat!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
I had a theory sprung out from my cluttered mind a while back. I was just awed at how much of “dumbing myself” that I have been doing all this time without actually realizing it however subconsciously have mastered the art. The theory is: the amount of dumbing out a girl does is proportional to how many men there are in the room. This has so far been true for me and I know it is. My god, they are so easily fooled. Give them just a slice moment of being the “provider”, and they think they are god and you are golden. The thing is, they think it’s all them, when it really is us with the cards at hand.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
and it sighs in my sleep
wraps itself around my tongue
and it softly speaks
then it walks
then it walks
with my legs
to fall, to fall, to fall
at your feet."
Monday, May 02, 2011
nonetheless, i feel glad to be back.
i guess though four months have lapsed since i last visited with any words, that stretch of time isn't proportional to any exciting development in my life. i am still in stagnant water. work keeps adding on, and that's about all that moves. i choose to seclude myself and i know the consequence- cause there is so much you can do without company; so this isn't a complaint. i just wish i had something to write about other than my imagination.
in this small space of time we call now, i am like the dent in a metal bar- depressed: made there or accidentally formed or willingly announced itself; pick a pick.
i don't have a story of my own to tell, but i won't even bother to compensate with one i tell myself.
i wish a stranger somewhere out there is listening. although i don't have trust in people.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
A Story That Randomly Formed Itself.
Back when we didn’t have it, we worked so hard to get it. Now that we’re there, we are clueless as to where else to go, so we keep walking in our own circles while we could have set out for a new, better direction together.
The spark has died. All the flowers died with it too. And us.
This is what I didn’t want for myself but you had me- to think that perhaps with you we could be different. And I let you. So what do I do now when even you are not the answer I want?
I am going to say goodbye. I am not one to stay and say “we’ll work this out somehow” and leave it be at that. It need not be difficult, but it is not without effort as well.
He took my goodbye in silence- like a boy holding in his tears. But he let me go.
Monday, November 29, 2010
This happens with anything mechanical or technical- things like the car breaking down, buying an insurance or even changing the light bulb and going to the bank when i was younger. I know my dad sees the role of provider as the definition of a father, and to him these are things he does (and must do) for his children. And of course daughters must have this sense about their father- one they can run to for protection and one to call for help. I do like this feeling of safety of having that one person i could turn to whom would come running without fail. But....
Yes, of course there has to be a but in this story. The feminist that I may be (I don't freely claim myself so, but people have made associations between me and this character), took the liberty to extend the context from father to men in general. The conversation in my mind went something like this: "how is it that when something like this happens, your first reaction is to call a man for help?" "why can't we just rely on ourselves?" "oh wait, because we know jack shit about cars or what to do in the aftermath of an accident, that's why".
Yes, now you may suggest a Narcissus in me- so high and mighty yet self-destructive. I know I must count my blessing and accept assistance and not be too proud to ask for help and I am thankful to have someone I can call in these kind of situations, but ideally, I would also like to have the choice of not calling because I have the knowledge and skills to do what is required in said situations. I mean it is nice to know you have someone to fall back to but realistically you can't expect them to be tugging at your sleeve at all times, can you? Having said that, and despite having been involved in a pretty messed up accident, I still haven't learnt- God help me if I have a flat. See?
That is however not the end of my mental debate and wandering mind though. As I have mentioned earlier, the atmosphere was one that is only good to inject boredom and toy with your head as the only source of entertainment/sanity. I was close to losing my mind waiting for hours for the tow truck by the roadside with absolutely nothing to do, a dying phone and the clock counting down my weekend.
Then I quizzed myself. I asked, "say if dad was away and couldn't come, who would you call next?" That's easy though. I have three brothers I could call. My mind left me a while after that- probably thinking of how the conversation with each of my three brothers would go. Then the pause was broken with another question: "who next? if your brothers too can't make it. who else do you have?" This of course is not a direct question. My mind was not merely implying who else, rather what other men. And to that I have no answer.
And that was when this lonely girl stepped out and said "damn it! i wish i had a boy friend." Hold it if you were about to get excited, because please notice the separation when i spell boy friend. That's right.
I want a guy bestfriend. Wouldn't it be awesome to have a guy I can be completely comfortable with like I'm with my girlfriends and one I can ask for favors like I would from my brothers and one I can have to make my boyfriend jealous? Where do they make these guys?
From there, we (me and my mind) moved on to be reminded about my most recent crush. And with all the time and boredom in my hands, I can't help but imagine if one of the passing cars would carry him and he would notice me all alone stranded by my wrecked car and he'd stop and offer some kind of help and from there we'll see where it will take us. But of course it all stayed in my imagination.
I don't want a relationship (at least not right now), but I can't help the times when I feel alone and wish for someone by my side. And that is a wrong reason to have a relationship. Although if things progress at their own will and pace without the initiation or encouragement from my part, I guess I wouldn't feel much of a guilt.
I remember this one day quite clearly- I was in the most foul mood I can be but prior to that I have been thinking to myself it would be nice if I bump into him that day. Then by the law of Murphy, there he was- appearing before me when I couldn't muster a smile for all the anger and bitterness I had in me. As is the only way Murphy grants your wish- with a catch. We were walking in different directions. I saw him first and had this mixed feeling of "i hope he notices me- because i do want to see him" vs. "i hope he doesn't see me- because i don't want him to see me like this". But he saw me allright! Angry old lady and all. I didn't smile. In fact I was suddenly angered. I said (in silence of course) "gosh! be a man and ask me out already!" Yes, if I can be any more irrational than that. I was the one having a crush on him and I acted like he was the one with a crush on me and not making a move. I guess that's the thing with crushes- when the simple, small pleasure of bumping into each other and catching a glimpse and exchanging smiles are no longer enough to sustain the giddy sweetness.
If I fall out of crush on this one, I'll live. I always fall for the wrong guy anyway.
But I mean it about that guy bestfriend. Where does a girl find one? Do you know?
Monday, April 26, 2010
glaring red anger
i need not explain myself or ask to be excused. this is where i speak my wandering mind and careless heart.
try a weak piece of cloth to dim the illuminating light- i will instead burn you to crisp and stain you with its pungent odor.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Maybe you should save yourself instead."
this will be again about the cycle of self-destruction i do not seem to want to break away from. i have established that i am not weak- that i can do whatever i set to do. i have proven myself sufficiently enough to be saying this with unshaken conviction. but in answering why i am still there chairing the secret meetings in my head to collapse the towers of my every day life, i cannot provide a sound argument. is this how it will always go with an unsound mind? someone told me i just need to peel off those layers of self doubt- that i see everything in pessimism. but i like to keep a tinge of black and gray in me- they are so much engraved in my name; i only need to keep them from screaming into their sister tone, and that may at times, admixed with my easily-angered-self prove to be beyond containment.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
letting them flow as they please for i have no real purpose or story to spill. what i have is an intense feeling of remorse that so contains me that i am not moving a muscle despite the busy traffic in my mind of lists of things to be checked.
have you ever been told not to get too ambitious? like the many mornings i had my clock set to wake me up at 5 only to belittle it of its duty till 7? why is there always that voice that nags behind every scene of my healthy thought to instill a bad seed that never fails to eventually plant itself a tree that in totality blocks the glowing picture i initially painted? have i only that tiny faith in myself? so easily i overwrite good- with only a faint cynical giggle at the outset of being motivated.
and for every time that you write your heart out- has it ever made me feel better? when i read it back from a time in the future, i am reminded of how dark i am capable of going. just how do i describe that feeling to you?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Oh My Barren Blog!
Work does get the best of you. Although it only seems true if you are a bad time manager as I am. The bulk of my 24 hours goes to sleep & work. I am still a long way from being able to say going to work is another day of carrying out a hobby (not that saying that means I so much have no life). But if you claim it a passion, it should be a thrill and not a drag, I dare say. Perhaps in time.
Considerable lot have happened, significant enough to write about, but there isn't the urge.
I want to however just note down this piece of emotion I have been carrying in me for the past 3 months or so. I am finding myself to be attracted to a colleague. It is harmless, and doesn't carry that giddy girly feeling. I simply enjoy his company and just am fond of him. I like that I am able to identify this feeling and address it healthily. Don't you?
But of course I am still in love with Daniel Kessler. Say Daniel, when can we start anticipating the fourth record? And Paul, won't you use Amy if you need to name a song after a girl this time? =)
I have been finding time to read again despite work. Next is to write again.
Sunday, August 02, 2009
break your heart
but faucets were meant
to do so
although adequate amount
should not shatter organs
Fast You Seaped and Leaked
for the weeping
politely containing itself
in my rib cage?
When I am unbelievably mistaken
stricken, stripped for that split second
from my sanity
that I have been having
like holding a fistful of hair
up in a ponytail
and then realizing
the hair clip is misplaced
thus in soft frantic
looking here and there
while that horse-like appendage
still in a strong grip
Couldn't I have let go
and reassigned a new flock?
whilst not as perfect
may be almost similar.
What was there?
a cost to my head?
Friday, July 24, 2009
With the above, Dr. Mahathir sums up my feeling towards unnecessarily Malaynized English words. Try "opsyen". Does that look remotely O.K to you?
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
La Blogotheque presents Grizzly Bear - Shift
why johnny greenwood loves these guys and called them his favorite band and why i now take my hat off for them.
on a completely unrelated note, i seem to have a harmless crush on the blonde guy-chris taylor. don't kill me for being a girl! =p
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
It says a lot that I am breaking a long hiatus to write about this particular OIAM contestant. He should take this as a compliment or I would feel insulted (although that is not within his control). I am writing about Nine. I must first make clear that I am neutral about him. I wasn't a supporter. Having said that, I do give credit to independent musicians. Perhaps this really isn't about Nine, but about M.Nasir. Yes, I am still in grief over missing his recent concert =(
"If this was to be my last performance in OIAM, then I am satisfied." Nine said something like this prior to performing Keroncong Untuk Ana during the top 4 show. If he knows Murphy, I think he wouldn't have said that. The first thing that formed in my head after I heard him say that was "well, that does it... you're going home next week." That's the way karma works, students of the world!
Two conclusions can be drawn from Nine's insufficient votes. First, people did not appreciate the performance and did not vote for him or worst voted against him. Second, he is simply not Malaysia's top favorites- somebody has got to go to make it 3, and it isn't hard to see how Nine is the easy pick. The latter conclusion is a matter of mentality. The former is a shame- like the time when I found out some of my classmates don't know who Aishwarya Rai is and when shown a picture of her, said that she is not pretty. When beauty stares you in your face but you cannot see it.
If it only takes one to make a difference, then Mr. Nine, I applauded you that night. This again is a massive compliment. Most of the work of M.Nasir is very dear to me. Just see my face flinch whenever I hear someone say they want to cover M.Nasir. That is just at their mere intention, not yet the execution. I have yet to hear any M.Nasir cover I agree with, until you. I wouldn't go as far as saying that it rivals or was comparable to the original, but most importantly is, you interpreted the song into different genres and did it well. To be able to carry out such a task well is like transporting a most delicate thing in your hands without crushing it. There is no second M.Nasir, hence, that you didn't murder the song; although that does not seem to be much of a praise, I assure you is more than it might appear to be.
Perhaps you chose a bad time to pay tribute to M.Nasir. Perhaps you did not meet the theme for organizing a teaser concert for what you have to offer in the future- I don't imagine you and your band taking on that direction of performance, but I wouldn't say that it was the major contributor to your weak counts. People vote for what they like. Let the judges worry about the rest- but how do two go against too many?
I thought the reggae arrangement of the song was brilliant. I was curious if it was going to work, but I loved how it sounded. Well then, I didn't intend for this to be written from me to you, but I guess things have a way of turning themselves. If you happen across this, I hope it has been a pat on the back.
Friday, March 06, 2009
A nicer day today- go on and make yourselves one!
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
2008 Empirio Armani Diamonds For Men Commercial
Slow Hands playing in the background of a commercial for male fragrance is not an easy phenomenon to go about in my head. I won't bother to explain why that is so; for the shock I am still experiencing and for short of time. To further aggravate this repulsion is when I found out that Josh Hartnett was the star. I do not like him. I simply don't. And I suppose it would be the cause of me reasoning over this if the concept of the video was any unique or intriguing at least. But no. How much more lame can you get? A Hollywood actor playing the kind of attention Hollywood actors get. Really?
I am possessive towards the music I love. For keeping good music all to myself, I have nothing to apologize for.
I am pretty sure this will hang above me and accompany my sleep into a dream where I am a crusader against injustice to songs, beating Josh and the video director in the face with a baseball bat. Yes, much violence for the kids, but these recent days, people are great to make me want to bash their head.
See for yourself. If it makes you crazy (in the bad way) afterwards, well, then I'd have a friend on this one.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
The Failure of A Medical School.
When in the first year of medical school, you were taught about the anatomy and physiology of human reproductive organs and by extension, the physiology of sex; when it is only logical that your level of maturity should match up that of an adult and exceed that of hormonally-driven adolescents; when you are constantly being reminded to look at a patient as a person vs. a diagnosis; when despite all these, you can still find humor in a lecture entitled Sexual Offenses, at so many levels, you have failed in the profession. For a medical school producing such insensitive doctors, it has my vote of failing miserably at its mission.
I will be the first to cast this vote upon the medical school that I am currently attending. I understand the limitation of holding an institution responsible for the downfall of a handful of its members; it is an unjustified generalization, but for an incompetent professional you blame the place he graduated from, for an insolent child you blame the parents- the same is the way life works in this context. I need not say the agony which comes along with this vote, of indirectly associating myself with these sorry souls, but I must put forward this story or the angry disgust I have been walking around with since that lecture will be severely channeled out.
How can you as a medical student still respond naively to the subject of sex? This is just past me. I have heard some of my female classmates admit to not fully understand the mechanics of sex and react shyly when academically talking about copulation. And some of my male classmates are still living their glory days of schoolboys teasing their female peers budding breasts. Now you have a rough idea things that threatens my sanity day in and day out. Perhaps some of them to their defense would say rightly that they are indeed unfamiliar with the subject in the practical part, hence their behavior. Well, I agree premarital sex isn't a norm in our society, but are you suggesting the reason I and a few of us are able to behave rationally to the matter is that we have had first hand experience? You don't need to have been at war to sympathize with war victims. You don't need to have had sex to have the knowledge about it. You don't need to have been raped to sympathize with a rape victim.
I have never before attended a teaching that had me highly disgusted. I am still perplexed at how a hall of medical students could produce a laughing noise to a lecture regarding rape. If you find it embarrassing or funny to be talking about sex, that is your personal issue you need to resolve elsewhere and not by trying to conceal with laughter to a very devastating subject. I did turn to a row of boys sitting behind me and asked "what the fuck is so funny?" They only averted their eyes and ignored me.
What got me doubly sick to my stomach was the lecturer himself. Yes, he too was making insensitive "funny" remarks. ("Funny" because the rest of the class found it something to laugh about). He was telling us about the punishment of a guiltily charged rapist, no matter the degree of penetration- whether a mere contact of the tip of the penis to the labia or a full penetration, is still 5- 10 years plus minus canning. So he said, if you were to do it, you might as well go all the way, if not it's such a waste- you'll be punished just the same. Would he have said this to the animal responsible of robbing his daughter of her virginity and life? Would he?
The immense amount of insensitivity I witnessed that day.
I am sorry that these will be some of the future doctors.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
time would betray the correctness and relevance of this story if you should want to hear it now. i still need it to be heard, but perhaps i would rather carry it to meet another. i shall reassure you that there is not a tiny soreness involved- i believe the story chooses its reader as much as it has chosen the author.
one fine day i listened to someone trying to dissect the story to an audience and apart from being possessive although i know very well many others have a similar story; i feel compelled to tell this person to stop and say to all of them that it isn't something you can define or objectively describe- it can only be understood by having it happen to you. much compelling as it is, i do not wish to share myself with strangers.
it happens at every waking moment, but until there is paucity when you catch yourself in the mirror or have a silent blank in your head or suddenly rushed by unexplainable and unreasonable and irrepressible tears or sad mad laugh; you would not realize.
Monday, January 19, 2009
mogwai is coming this wednesday. WEDNESDAY! well, it's not like i can go even if it's on the weekend. i cannot afford RM148 ticket. but ultimately i cannot afford to put my sanity on the table and role the dice for the crowd.
is there a description beyond sick at people killing each other? that would apply to me.
i have been having that foot-on-gas-pedal-and-drive-off-the-cliff feeling again. i will be driving to classes for the week. do you think i'm crazy? i think i'm on autopilot- student/daughter autopilot.
hit the switch!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
"and I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men...."
ben gibbard, you are too good with words; perhaps i may have you as a boyfriend tonight and you shall sing to me in my dream. we wont be on separate sides when we say goodnight to each other, that much i promise.
oh, how the girl should surface at the most unusual moment, when i am trying to get my head around an ancient surgical procedure.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Pay Me No Eulogy
sprouts from the ground
It climbs up
and bends to the right
As it crawls and tightens
around my ankle
I feel a spasm in my brain
my heart jumps but modestly
and electric shivers
that my pulse skipped
the stream diminished
to flow again in beats to succeed
I am hollow
when she would have had shooting feelings
None a feather
heavily I am planted
because the poison stings not
my skin is as well plaster on the wall
my body a ghost
my mind its spirit
wander like the dangles
of a witch's torn coat
I will dilute,
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Dissecting the Scene
the police has brought me this
on my first day in the field
Grissom did more
than initiate my loyalty
to a television series
I will tell you
from books to the lab
the excitement is dizzying
the thrill different
the anger and loathe made personal
Yes,the debate of
theory vs. practice
I told the plant
from a victim's skeleton
I wish I have felt
the wanting of my mentor's approval
Instead I ache
for a second look at the evidence
Just another check
so settles my heart
Oh,a young forensic pathologist!
Monday, December 08, 2008
why i work alone
this particular group work involved doing something that i have never in my life done and never in a million year imagined doing. i did like the idea of challenging myself. it was hard at first- nobody seemed to want to really help and i didn't quite communicate my need for help effectively, so it was initially understandable. i know the nature of my inner working is to do things by myself and that was what i did- i taught myself how to do it. i wouldn't lie, i did not produce miracle, but it was a breakthrough for me. i still struggled at doing it in the group, and i put my effort into asking. this is a rare occurrence, i can tell you that much. i know they perceive me as one who manages on her own, but i have made it plain simple that i need some kind of assistance. it did take quite a lot from me- to ask. it feels somewhat awkward, to have to ask.
i kept asking anyway, because the obvious truth is that if i don't learn how to be good at it, i will be the cause of the failure of the task. for every time i asked, annoyance and irritation were laid, layer upon layer. that, and the realization of how self-absorbed some of them are. a few of them tried to be helpful, as much as they knew how, and i greatly appreciate the gesture, however they were not the top players of the task themselves, and i understand they need to care for their own responsibility. eventually it came down to a one-woman show among the few of those players. "i only care that i be the one who outshine the rest of these people that make the group." yeah, sure you don't care if the group failed because the scapegoat is me.
i find that the only way you can come out of it without feeling "what the fuck?group work?" is when you are one of them yourself. this is based upon years of observation. if you are just not from the blend, it would not matter how much effort you make to learn the way to blend or to temporarily allow yourself to be blendable- they would not recognize.
i do not disregard the possibility of blowing this out of proportion by looking at only a small corner of it through a magnifying glass- because there is a particular girl in the group whom my reactions toward most of her actions are rolling of the eyeballs, highly suppressed sarcastic laugh, and unexplained annoyance. i am sure we all have someone we just are not fond of for no particular reason. but in this story, she wasn't the only one acting that way, so....
i care enough to pen this down because it has been roaming in my head, constantly reminding me to do so. i think more than being annoyed and irritated, what bothers me most is how exhausting and dissapointing it is to throw yourself out of your comfort zone, asking for assistance, wanting to do better, and be ignored; more so when it was suppposed to be about teamwork.
on a personal level, it gives me more reason to have pessimistic outlook on people. but it does not demotivate me to ask for help when i need one, because i believe people cannot read minds except for a few mentalists and psychics, but i doubt i'd meet them in my lifetime.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
wrecking ball waltz through
to say sorry- always, never failing; sometimes more as a reflex than anything. and afterward i torture myself with angry guilt.
to be a figure people form in their head of someone who will always be there to clean up the mess. i have been this many times and many times over. until i got hurt. i shall now serve the cold treatment. you should learn how to say sorry.
i am tired of automatic politeness and licking clean the screw-ups of others. it is a disease in me.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
a full tatoo
mobile and made for blending
aloof to flesh,blood,bones,viscera
and the air-like substance within.
perhaps the white delicate of rabbits
has sulked fast to my feet.
at this,leopard print would leap
a perfect parabolic swing
and cap my scalp.
i have gorillas for chest
my heart aches differently.
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Walkmen - We've Been Had
a current wanting of floating in the air and do just this. and there may be a release of some sort.
this since April 28, 2007.
“People should care about what people who don’t care about what people think about them, think about them.”
Thursday, November 13, 2008
I remember the day clear as sky. But giving way to the opinion of Barbara Kingsolver (specifically of her book Animal Dreams) on memory, one that I cheer in agreement to- memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth but not its twin; I will say that clear as sky as it may be, gray clouds do scatter over like their god-given birth right to do.
We were 14. We were in the science lab. It was biology lesson. Nervous system, subtopic- spinal reflex. We sat at the back- not example students, just regular teenagers. Although, we were trying to study the subject and not giggle about the cutest boy in school or the latest boy band or glitter nailpolish. Only we were doing so in a non-traditional way, with much noise- much laughing noise. How we used to laugh and be carelessly happy. And how I smiled and laughed more back then. Good times!
I'll tell you what we were doing. Or what you were making us do. We were outsmarting the boring lengthy paragraphs of the text book. We were processing those words in imaginery video before putting it away for storage versus our classmates' usual take of swallowing the letters whole.
You hit me mildly in the arm and then began narrating the journey of that sensation via the afferent nerve, to the cerebral cortex, down the efferent nerve and finally into the muscle of my arm to produce a reflex which under the particular circumstance happened to be a reply of an equally gentle slap to your arm. True, nothing excitingly laughable about that- it's mere picturing words from the text book. What excites was the fact that you made the impulse travel in a VW Bug (I can't recall what color; probably blue). If my memory does not suffer from lapses as I do not suspect it does, you provided the soundtrack to your little documentary as well. I went along with the narration, editing here and there. We had ourselves a learning experience we both thoroughly enjoyed.
If the teacher should argue that the sensation you delivered to my nervous system was not one that would provoke a reflex as opposed to perhaps accidentally touching a hot kettle or stepping on a piece of broken glass; we would politely answer: well, of course, but we wouldn't want to hurt each other in the name of science!
Our brain, the funny little girl she is, scans through events and numbers their priority in our memory box at her ease, without consulting us. Therefore, I may well be made by my cerebrum to amplify this moment such that compares to the clearness of the sky, while you may only have the vision of a hazy day. It does not make me better at remembering, it is only that I got hit first- the very nature of human that we never easily forget the deeds done upon us. One who receives remembers more than one who gives.
I shared so many precious moments with you those few years we spent together in school. When I think back on the best memories, they never fail to lighten me up.
For the 23-year-old struggling young adults that we are today, I am thankful and glad for the two 14-year-old bestfriends that we still are. I hope we will always be. The distance does not matter.
My friend Hana, for everything that you are, I love you too! =)
Monday, November 10, 2008
ILLUMINATE to frustrate
throwing my own head
to the rows of pin
bowl with luck
hope to knock them down
before they take you out
or eat into you
that you later have no desire
to reattach yourself.
from milk and muffin
from the shop across the street
I could slot into the machine
to produce me a proper device
for gunning inanimate target
I will know in time
to step forward or take a left
when the cable brings to my descend
but now the light on the button shines
its door won't open
I wait; sigh and smile.
It is scorning
or it is being romantic with me
a few more tick of the clock
fix your mind.
An elevator takes you up
on its way down
it picks me up.
Monday, November 03, 2008
march and lyse the cells
Ending up hiding under the staircase
Too afraid of people's ears
and laughing voices
they only hear in their head
The head of heads
that everytime manages to sift wrongs
from all that is always right.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
and keep violent images in your head.
they do not come out
that even, in the controlled stream of electrical charges.
i have contained in a jar
arrays of seizuring blue,green, and red lights
enough to color a city
and blind its rival
then fire away a war
long has been pretentiously muted
by see-sawing morality and vengeful loathing.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
to playfully err is the hands that have your deck of cards,
all the while a merciful you summon to pick a hand.
your only gain is pity taken upon you.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
but you shall sing me a sign
when i have reached crescendo
and must bring to decrescendo.
then only will we learn.
Friday, October 17, 2008
when the force only hastens entrapment?
perhaps for the initial rush of adrenaline
that would cascade a rounder cycle of escape.
that we are suggested
to keep our composure
and guard the break
which threatens our grace.
never in the streak of their muscle potential.
it is only in our own.
i gather it is from your hair that catches their fall.
you have always been sympathetic
to the fluidity of things.
it is a fragile that breaks.
i do not share
its resistance to soften
the bony edges.
the outskirt of my heart.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
come, walk with me.
the light wrapping around the wick is weak now. i am about to make it die burning itself without any purpose unless i return to the shelves- to read the millions of books in the short life of that light, before i get to throw them into it therefore letting the flame lives on; buying the time that i need to seek another candle.
Friday, October 03, 2008
on the way back home
ps: did you involuntarily sigh after reading that last line? =)
Saturday, September 27, 2008
I Remember- Damien Rice
Monday, September 22, 2008
i shall resign now after the heart is spoken of.
Friday, September 05, 2008
what she remembers is
what she has learned from you."
-Ra Ra Riot, Each Year
Monday, September 01, 2008
and I say to myself,
at the shirt of familiarity.
Do not go over
Saturday, August 30, 2008
i'm fucking tired of it!
do you wonder if i feel guilty for feeling this way? what do you reckon sigmund freud would say?
Saturday, August 16, 2008
i want to be a lion.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A CHANGE THAT MOVES.
They are telling facts
they do not believe in
but need to vomit out
in projectile fashion
- for a public gain, for a public gain.
in the right hemisphere of my brain
later waiting for the writer
to wake from her deep sleep;
a masterpiece soon to hang.
going from one neuronal city
of the frustration
that constancy brings.
but lost in my mind
and this noise drowns my existence.
i like the feeling i get when i stumble upon my writings hidden in between lecture notes=)
It was not an apple tree, that much was obvious; but I still wondered what was going through Newton's mind prior to the thought which made it possible for him to occupy the mind of a fellow being many centuries in the future; whom he may never have the opportunity to acknowledge. This further aggravated my personal conversation box whether people get the same idea when under a tree, or whether I think too much, or whether I have the tendency to prolong thoughts into a chain at double speed or double intensity or double nature than others. I always complete this routine by convincing myself I may be going crazy. Because it is inevitable to contemplate if people are like this too, and you grant yourself that they are not and you worry there is a kind of strangeness with you. And how devastating. But why? Yes, why. It has yet to freeze, that stare in mid-air and you throw in another blaze out of the brain. Is it a reflex, wanting sameness? Is it intuitive? Instinctive? Impulsive? Or merely an inborn clumsiness?
Sunday, July 06, 2008
a rush of green-tasting air.
Friday, June 27, 2008
at the reunion
and my dream leaping
from a cat
to a shame of abnormal feet.
Nevermind my human face.
It is the unsightly deformity
of my lower limbs
that would give me away.
Monday, June 16, 2008
fear in my enemies' eyes.
to ready oneself is a terrifying task. that is true for when you keep witholding taking the first step. you see, all that obstacles you always have play in your mind trying to picture going through the path you may prefer not have a foot on, they will clear once you work the muscle. this isn't some sort of a magical thing. this requires effort and determination and preseverence and all else you can name. but hey, count on leaping through all those hurdles and finding you way to somewhere. take that first step, or the only place you get is there where you always complain you do not want to get stuck in, and eventually nowhere.
so here's a start for me- from tomorrow onwards, i will make it a point to take my vitamins on a daily basis. good habit needs a kickstart. and after that, i'll pick up my pace=)
sometimes being positive can be sickening, so i won't overdo it here.
Monday, June 09, 2008
there is time left yet to do something. most of them involves making up for the screwing up. damn, you know, i had so much hope for all that warm, fuzzy, cuddly positive stuff. i was gonna make it happen. i was pumped up. and then. and then i deflate myself. that's what. does it even help letting this all out? all i wanted to do was write. and this comes out. i guess being creative isn't something i'd like to do too. there is a long to-do list which items are of equal top priority, which i keep crossing out everyday not for completing the task, but from not wanting to do. i feel crappy. this is crap writing.
it's a miserable job, a miserable party, a miserable time. everything is a miserable gig with a miserable self. i agree.
my way of loosening up is different form yours. we define our own world. so you may give me the advice, but don't think that you're doing me a favor by dictating me your way of doing it.
this is a bad idea. i am tired but want to write. that's fine if every line is a work of art, but hey, what exactly do we call this? i'm out!
*friends who may be reading, this is totally some random floating anxieties. mix that up with a lethargic brain and body.... you pretty much get something you shouldn't give a hoot about. unless there's a projectile vomiting of a great story forcing its way out, don't succumb to the want to write when your brain is half-dead. i know it's tempting when you haven't been writing for a while, but don't do it. DON'T!
Sunday, June 01, 2008
after the car broke down. (phoenix interrupted at burning herself)
in a pair of twos.
I wonder if they carry
a pen like me.
Angry but wasted
and thoroughly lonely.
She's turned her brain off,
her heart tasteless.
She hears him speak
in that identical
color and hue of voice,
What it must be to drive.
My quiet is to contain
a streak of soundness
through that crack in
my tall enclosing wall
fast cementing itself.
in the space we three are in,
there are hands
more than pleased
the foot on gas pedal
off a cliff.
There are no more eyes now,
the rain has stopped.
She and I, we only care for
blocking the noise.
Dizzy her up later.
and if the thought of a marvel of a taste lingering in my mouth is not enough to take away the misery, i could always look forward to the end of the day when head is on pillow and sleep invites ignorance. sleep it off, yes. tomorrow will come and will be, worry not, treasure me in this moment. sleep is a most trusted and loyal companion. it is escape.
coffee wakes me up, but does not keep me awake.
that is the answer to your question: "how can you have the drink and sleep in one go?"
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Such warm words. Even at the broken edges of your heart, about to leap off of a building, you would still take in this humble and sincere message- to either go serenely or turn back defeated and tired.
The pigeon would send me back the news. I would hear it with music in my heart. I would say I understand, as a sad first stroke of the piano drops upon my chest a heaviness.
When you come again in glowing youth to visit me, I would smile at you and take your hand. Then we would walk in silence to let it tell me all about your journey home.
But what I have hoped more than this is that I find you.
the fundamental of my being my own reader
Paul Banks when asked what his motivation behind Interpol is.
Now, if i were to say that, i'd get the eyes of "burn in hell, dear narcissistic!". But when you're Paul Banks.... =)
Monday, April 28, 2008
the danger of disinhibition would be great, i reckon. because when you no longer register who you are, you start going directions you have never been before and never would have gone to. as you have an absent or impaired sense of self, the awareness to inhibit yourself goes as well. this may account for the many faces you wear.
in the long run, would you finally completely forget who you once were and fail to meet who you really are? is this a destined consequence, or would it be driven by the scare you get from the possibility of its occurence?
unless you hold no responsibilities at all to keep you occupied with the business of the world, you would not have enough significant time to be troubled by this disease to worry about its terminal nature.
not until it has swallowed you whole and you are left with your mind in the palms of your hands not knowing what to do with it.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
the free hours in the library
I have gone to where the birds have gone to, and I have seen just as much, but reality trivializes my experience, as they are lived only when the curtain falls on my conscious brain yet a colorfully active mind still. Oh, if it is a bore, how do you blame me for escaping? Or wanting to escape?
In the scent of lilies, I let go of an air of hunger in the guise of frustration. The hunger of an anger seeding from a reprived memory of an unsuspecting sin for which I was claimed to be the charmer- for without my sweet innocence, would the criminal have stemed? My ignorant freedom; my small world in a big heart. Them you accuse. Them. When monstrous claws have always been hiding under the nailbeds of adult maturity.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
and a thousand more for comfort.
but as i make out faces,
my nominal skills dilute.
highways upon highways
of racing circuits;
intercommunication that makes no sense
however a logical physiological phenomenon.
urges that burst into flame-
they come back
and sweep you burnt.
haven't you lived to outlive
these made intentions?emotions?actions?
i will take care of you.
Friday, April 11, 2008
quoting Saturday by Ian McEwan
of a musician
"....so I thought well i guess I'd give this music thing a chance and really really give it a chance which means to believe in it and to open myself up to the possibility that I'm gonna throw away part of my life for it....."
"....I think that while we have not been a successful band by anyone's light, we have enough success."
"And I guess we define success as just moments that I had really really good time and that were nourishing to me and there were moments that are frightening because you know, I don't have any health insurance and I don't have very much security and I didn't have any place to live last year, you know stuff like that, but um....it's worth it."
I suppose and wish that since the above interview, you have gained more successes. But even if you weren't a success to anyone, you and your music will always be to me. There is a ridiculously slim chance that you might be reading this, but I hope somehow you know this.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
and all my knowledge is in a suitcase. i need to get them into the brain in less than 48 hours. much of kidding myself, yes?
i am yet anxiety shot. this is something i must worry about. but my heart is almost hibernating. perhaps it will only ram a full tachycardic speed when i most need it. that's one thing i can always count on it to do.
in exam, in action. let's go!
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
a 5-month-old respond to a tag courtesy of kye=)
1. I sometimes read the newspaper (or any reading material for that matter), from back to front. This is less fun with storybooks because I’ll spoil it for myself, but I dont recall the last time I read a novel backwards. “….since then it’s been a book you read in reverse so you understand less as the pages turn”
2. I have trivial routines in my daily activities. Although I could skip them when needed, without causing much dysfunction or upset in my life; it’d still hang around in my head like a bother.
3. I am a sleeper. I once did a 24-hour. It wasn’t a good solid 24- hour, there were some two to three 5-10 minutes pauses in between, but I’d say it still holds as a record. At least a personal one;-)
4. I feel powerful behind the wheels (in the car alone with music infusion, of course). I speed though I know too well I cant really handle it.
5. I spontaneously curse at people in my head when they make the slightest mistake. I know it’s bad, and it’s a weak excuse to say i cant shake it off; but sometimes these people had it coming and deserved it too. (friends&family do not enter the definition of people)
6. I have a familiar face. I’ve had way too many “Have I seen you before?” “You look like someone” “Do you have a sister working somewhere in……? No? Well, you look just like her” No, these are not pick-up lines obviously. Sometimes I don’t really care- I get it significantly frequently, I’m used to it; but sometimes I do get annoyed- it’s not enough that I look average, I gotta look unoriginal too? Why do I keep looking like somebody’s sister or daughter or neighbor?? But it’s kinda funny in a way.
7. I’m always the last to finish a meal when I eat out with my family or friends. So much so when on very miraculously rare occasions I actually don’t finish last, it’s a cause for a toast!
8. I have a liking for numbers. Not counting accounting, that is. No pun intended! =)
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
separate self and relinquish
i may only dream all these but they are far more real.
let go from chaining me in the name of sympathy, because what you have is just an insincere pity.
Monday, March 10, 2008
busy painting decay
a fog is engulfing my brain so i apologize for not telling this story to its completion. i feel inhibited to do the things that matter. i create spaces in which i could fill with time unconjugated to schedule, but I later know not how to spend them- despite being so young; having so much to accomplish before I die.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
as a rule i like all vegetables
Here, I would like to divert a little from the subject and talk about an observation about kitchen apparatus. I especially hate slicing my tomatoes with blunt knives. Have you ever been in this situation? It is so frustrating. Almost makes me want to laugh irrationally in disbelief and disappointment. I suppose this frequently happens only to me as I am the one in the family who is crazy over tomatoes. You could still cut a lot of other veges with blunt knives and meat have their own knives. Therefore there isn’t an urgent need to sharpen the vege knives, which make me the one who usually have to do the sharpening. And surely, when you sharpen one, you are vulnerable to be asked to sharpen the rest as well. But another reason for being given this honor as the knife-sharpener of the family (second to my dad, of course) is because I am really good at it. Honestly. And I am proud of this, as it is understandably accepted as man’s territory.
I may come off dissatisfied at being thrown such responsibility in the previous paragraph, but I do enjoy sharpening knives, and it makes my heart swells in pride when my mother asks me to undertake this task by saying: “Amy, would you please sharpen the knives? I’ve been waiting for you to come home…. all the knives are blunt while you’re away.” Now, you may ask, why can’t my mum do it herself? But when your aim is to get the lunch/dinner ready and you can still make do with not-so-sharp knives, sharpening the knife isn’t of importance when food is served. You may also ask, what about my dad? On days when he’s not too exhausted from work, he would assume the responsibility, but other times, I’m the only hope.
If you’re wondering just how hard could it be sharpening a knife? I’d say, it isn’t so much difficult, but there is an art to it that you must learn. It isn’t a trivial chore; it is a delicate mini labor.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Thank you for taking good care of me all this while. I wouldn’t know which way to walk otherwise. But I shall not wait any longer. I am going to where I feel safer. And if I should keep it up, I will find my safest spot.
We have been kind to one another, but it is all pretend. I wish not to continue and let spring heirs or heiresses of us. You need not weep- no, I know of its sincerity, I doubt it not, but it has to end- your silent murdering of self. I promise to not wet my eyes too.
Monday, February 11, 2008
I'm Dependent on Coffee so Shoot Me!
-sounds like a punk/electronica/indie band's name
The Aftermath of A Catastrophic Death
-sounds like a good mockery to/a sad wannabe of anything heavy-metal-related
The After-Odor of A Kill
-sounds like a tittle for a gory documentary
A Deviation from the Normal That is Not Normal
-sounds like the tittle for a self-help/humorous motivational book
People Will Become Silhouette for Amy to Recognize
-sounds like a song from The Postal Service or Of Montreal
this was scribbled in a notebook from 2 years back if i'm not mistaken. i find it funny now. whatever my mind harbors, you'd be surprised! at least i am.... or amused rather.
Friday, February 08, 2008
paralysed throat, weak and pale limbs.
coffee churning, and dancing wind.
an ill mind with inadequately fed brain.
shoot up sugar in my vein and lay me down,
i will count blue moons behind my eyelids.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
there is a thing or a person i do not like to meet. sleep is a perfect hideout.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Sunday, December 30, 2007
so close, so fall apart.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
says thom yorke on his vocal delivery on fake plastic trees, having affected by seeing jeff buckley in concert.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
in our homes.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Thursday, December 06, 2007
in full whiteness
when in this lonely wakefulness
i think of his presence
i want not the lasting bond
if it has to suffer my other devotions
but you may put him
vividly in my mind
so i could admire still
and hush me
so i have only lightness in the center
Sunday, December 02, 2007
in the middle of my brain.
like a tin banging against my skull.
an oddity that fits
gentle strokes of fingers
excited beatings of sticks.
the big car accident
and i would be right to assume
only a hand on the wheel.
oh wish me a broken fist,
you are sure to get.
i lose this bitter cold
when you challenge out
a polite one.
Monday, November 26, 2007
see if you are still breathing
calm this rapid heart
or they may shred its muscle
like i have torn the petals
away from their rightful purple fullness
oh you will see hostile
in my breath in the snow
though i have a condition
that needs me the common gas
i shall produce some designs
in the air still.
Monday, November 19, 2007
you know not the topic i provide you not the information of
Sunday, October 28, 2007
nowhere is a bad place to be- you neither are lost nor have a direction. nowhere is itself, as it is anywhere.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
-Lyndon B. Johnson
36th president of US
Friday, October 19, 2007
two cups of the stuff that was supposed to work.
when nails are growing
but the white below is a disgrace.
press to shine and flourish the pink,
outward they grow still
into two dawning eyes too.
the food pouch inside
fed with coffee,
the tubes not absorbing well
or the frontliners refusing to bathe,
on a strike to not comfort.
the head there is a pill for
only with your functioning
might it initiate a thinking.
at the gate
around the security post;
and the man in uniform