write my blood

Again After So Many "Word-Years".

2011-12-29T21:09:00.003+08:00

Hello.

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.

not until we learn to love will we understand how it is to be loved

2011-09-09T21:21:00.000+08:00

2011-09-09T21:08:00.002+08:00

there i was in my miserable and weird way and there they were staring at me thinking what a bizarre specimen this... this person (?) is.

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?

How He Bleeds Into Both His Lungs.

2011-08-20T22:22:00.002+08:00

He died at such a young age. It was a mechanical death, so to speak- for it was his beloved vehicle that drove him into a premature grave. Or perhaps it was simply his reckless iron heart.

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.

2011-07-09T22:18:00.001+08:00

I do wish for a slow pain-paved path to recovery for you. At least in the split second that my heart jolted from your rudeness. If you are a man like you so claim and brag you are- feeling that you are entitled to a certain position and class (which you obviously do not have); shut up an be a man about it.

2011-06-30T21:57:00.002+08:00

Stampede
the very beats of my feet
have anger planting seed.
shall I begin to weep
sweats and blood in defeat
oh, what heat!

2011-06-11T21:01:00.000+08:00

If it very much irritates, but I keep at it- I never seem to demonstrate my wish for it to go away. Strike that. It is dangerous fishing words out of your mind. Especially when you are forcing them out- and trying to impress with how clever it sounds while at the same time conveniently forgetting that you have no reader at all and also letting drown in the delusion that there are admirers out there. I do feel I am a classic Narcissus (not that there is any other kind).
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.

2011-05-22T15:52:00.002+08:00

"there's a ghost in my lungs
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."
-florence

2011-05-02T19:12:00.002+08:00

dear goodness, i haven't had anything from 2011 in here. it did take a while to digest, when i realized this as i went through this blog to edit out a few stuff. now, i remember having told myself that i wasn't going to delete any of my older posts (the argument being they represent who i once was and influence who i am now), and i remember going through the same process multiple times- of browsing through the posts and feeling tempted to hit the delete button on some, but manage to hold myself; but today i told myself otherwise: if they are bad writing, they are going. back to the initial point- seriously? the last time i wrote in here was december last year? time must have slipped from me because i could have sworn it felt like last month or so that i had that last piece written. oh well.

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.

A Story That Randomly Formed Itself.

2010-12-01T00:48:00.002+08:00

It feels like a river running dry of its greenest clear color- thrown in its belly the essence of murkiness that eventually stirs in density to the body of water and later causes the soil to drink it sip by sip until it remains a land- cracked and chapped with no evidence of the moisture that once bathed it. It is how my heart feels when I look back at all the good memories, and am reminded that so they shall rest as only keepsakes; for we are no longer reliving them because now it seems we have grown so far apart. But we have let it come to this. Everything takes work. We couldn’t have been so naïve to think that things will just fall into their right place like little girls putting together jigsaw puzzles.

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.

Technicality

2010-11-29T21:24:00.005+08:00

I got into an accident a while ago. Besides leaving me shaking shitless in shock (otherwise unbruised and without a scratch- grateful i am for this), and besides some other things that went through my mind as the result of being stranded alone by the highway without anything to do and being the spectacle of passing cars (no book to read and no music to listen to because all my stuff were in the trunk which was smashed right into the back seat hence rendered inaccessible); it made me realize how much I am dependent on my father. As i got out of the car and was able to steady myself on my feet, the first instinct was: call dad.

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?

glaring red anger

2010-04-26T10:52:00.003+08:00

i did not have to say what was on my mind, they never bothered to ask. but they both know the towering wave that was about to engulf us all whole- one that is brewing in my chest. i will only implode and then you would have lost a dear trophy of a daughter.

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.

2010-03-28T19:40:00.001+08:00

"No matter what your father said or the books you read
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.

2009-12-27T19:39:00.003+08:00

rid of a crush though i have dissected as adult and sensible, still is a cousin to her giddy counterpart. it is just something i wish to address and shall have nothing directly related to what is to come in these subsequent lines. i am writing in thoughts again and if you frequent here you would understand why that is so. after all these time, i figured i would be less bitter and more accepting towards it, but as only human, i ache in my heart the thought that noone does visit enough to understand.

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?

Oh My Barren Blog!

2009-11-14T19:03:00.002+08:00

It has been ages, I must confess.

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.

2009-08-02T02:12:00.001+08:00

Leaking pipes will
break your heart
but faucets were meant
to do so
although adequate amount
should not shatter organs

Fast You Seaped and Leaked

2009-08-02T02:03:00.002+08:00

Who is to answer
for the weeping
and choking
machine
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?

2009-07-24T03:37:00.004+08:00

"Jika semuanya nak di-Melayukan, bahasa Melayu akan bertukar menjadi bahasa Inggeris, ejaan lain bunyi semacam. Sebenarnya ia bukan bahasa Melayu lagi."

With the above, Dr. Mahathir sums up my feeling towards unnecessarily Malaynized English words. Try "opsyen". Does that look remotely O.K to you?

In Love with Johnny Depp All Over Again (And Letterman Too)

2009-07-02T08:52:00.001+08:00

La Blogotheque Presents Cold War Kids - St John

2009-06-22T02:56:00.001+08:00

crazy good time!

La Blogotheque presents Grizzly Bear - Shift

2009-06-22T02:27:00.001+08:00

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

2009-06-03T13:44:00.002+08:00

Deleterious effect
of a nebulous gesture of
pleasantry
has set camp
and building itself
an army

2009-05-28T18:28:00.001+08:00

if i could see blue, red, white, yellow and purple lights; would i blind myself? would i steer away from a glowing mesmerizing thing or being just so i could preserve another sense desperately needing to be saved from a threat i may well not even know is or isn't there? why does it matter if words do not make sense? why do we strive for meaning? why does it frustrate and devastate so? i ask but why don't i ask why i am asking if my asking suggests that none carry a decent weight at all? my mind spins and races until when i shut my eyes to try to calm the growing explosion, i only have rapidly swinging pendulum behind my eyelids. i should not be mistaken for a strong oak. when i crumble and my thick skin peels, and you see only a supple core instead of the metal piece you have always imagined, what am i then?

2009-05-22T07:46:00.002+08:00

take a moment to pause. my brain is on speed. it screams "oh my god! oh my god!" "i'm going to kill myself". you may find in a space you allowed to collapse on you, a moment to breathe- when in the threat of a ruptured lung, you see light; and this is enough to offer relief and lift of the dysphoric mood for a while. but afterward, i see them dancing again.

Much Said

2009-05-03T04:36:00.003+08:00

... about OIAM 3. That's One in A Million 3 for you unfamiliar ones. Yes, I did watch it, although to my defense, I wasn't an avid follower, and I did not watch any of the previous seasons and by heavens, of course I did not vote. The only reason I watched this one whenever I happened by it on t.v. is Esther. It is understood that I do not like Tomok. But it came as no surprise that he won. I am not however about to review the final show.

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.

2009-03-06T05:15:00.003+08:00

Where- do you know where to turn to? When water is gone, everything in chaos. The only way to secure a growing bladder at its escalating bursting pressure is to lie still. Rancid brain matter, now that's a scary thought. More so if it is the beginning of a mutation. I am shooting at random but my targets come from a straight line, the root of its source I know too well. You see, I am only delaying the inevitable. In denial, I agree. These were moments ago floating around, until I caught them and display in this jar in space.

A nicer day today- go on and make yourselves one!

OBSTRUCTED VEINS

2009-03-03T13:14:00.002+08:00

"Something hits me. No, I am not hit. Nothing hits me. But that is what should have hit me. That I no longer am capable of feeling being hit. Then again that may not be entirely true. Perhaps it is the intensity that has reduced. Things are hitting me but they only become a numbing as opposed to a painful stimulus."

2008 Empirio Armani Diamonds For Men Commercial

2009-02-18T22:25:00.004+08:00

I was not aware of this in the year 2008. It was only just now that I saw the ad on tv. My eyes weren't really focused on the screen, but my ears caught familiar sounds. I tried to to dig the crevices of my memory to produce a song title when the lyrics came: "We spies, we slow hands...."

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.

The Failure of A Medical School.

2009-02-08T18:47:00.002+08:00

We can all conclusively agree that incompetence would be it- if we are talking about a sole determining factor that is. But surely, creative and finger-pointing of humans that we are, we can do better than just a reason- a list of reasons is how we like it. I would contribute to this list by adding one seemingly petty point, nonetheless if you follow through this discussion as I unravel how it came about receiving a nomination from me, you would see it magnified.

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.

2009-01-20T18:50:00.002+08:00

i have tried to tell this story of how i float in the air and air is merely an entity i name so because that is what you would understand it as, but i cannot begin to describe it to you had it been a thing not already known because i do not experience its realness. i do address my insensitivity to asking for your ears when the surge of pregnant hormones and emotions may render you incompetent of your role as a listener, and i am not writing this so you may stumble upon it someday and feel guilty about it, because it is only chronic niceness that i hold pathologically in me that regards such insensitivity- the acceptably normal of us knows the sincere need for help no matter how petty and how inconveniently timed is never inconsiderate.

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.

ultraviolet

2009-01-19T22:45:00.003+08:00

i have been needing my beta agonist inhaler for the past few weeks. so i cannot kid myself into not taking the steroid inhaler as well. yes, the early morning cough and exercise-induced chest tightness are not going to settle themselves.

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!

"and I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men...."

2008-12-30T22:57:00.003+08:00

why, i feel so hopelessly yet skeptically romantic.

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.

Pay Me No Eulogy

2008-12-16T22:44:00.001+08:00

A green stalk
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,
dissapear.

Dissecting the Scene

2008-12-10T17:30:00.001+08:00

Twig for human bone-
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
a gratification
Instead I ache
for a second look at the evidence
Just another check
so settles my heart
Oh,a young forensic pathologist!

why i work alone

2008-12-08T19:35:00.003+08:00

i am not fond of group work, especially one that involves all girls; sub-especially all malay girls. recent experience has strengthened my past similar experiences. if you are about to say: thought you'd have learned from the past, o wise amy, i will tell you now, it was a painful choice to agree to. i could have chosen otherwise, but obligation tends to tie you.

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.

wrecking ball waltz through

2008-11-30T18:09:00.002+08:00

it saddens me to realize that i have in my childhood absorbed the way of how females ought to be forgiving- the way of the culture that i somehow belong to:

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.

fall

2008-11-27T17:37:00.001+08:00

the mosaic of my surface
a full tatoo
mobile and made for blending
only
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
ancient,exhausted
my heart aches differently.

The Walkmen - We've Been Had

2008-11-14T14:38:00.001+08:00

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.”

2008-11-14T08:38:00.001+08:00

-amy

2008-11-13T15:47:00.018+08:00

Sympathetic Nervous System

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! =)

ILLUMINATE to frustrate

2008-11-10T02:06:00.006+08:00

My hand in a pocket
I contemplate
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.

Spare change
from yesterday
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
instead.

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
here,
a few more tick of the clock
fix your mind.

An elevator takes you up
on its way down
it picks me up.

march and lyse the cells

2008-11-03T11:41:00.001+08:00

Spiraling thoughts
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.

october chair

2008-10-29T23:55:00.001+08:00

grit your teeth
and keep violent images in your head.
they do not come out
unless forced.
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.

2008-10-26T21:10:00.005+08:00

"I despise the pleasure of pleasing people that I despise."

-Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

room air.

2008-10-26T21:07:00.004+08:00

such words if unspoken of shall invite harm into your homes.
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.

2008-10-18T05:26:00.005+08:00

i will tell a song.
but you shall sing me a sign
when i have reached crescendo
and must bring to decrescendo.
then only will we learn.

2008-10-17T01:34:00.004+08:00

why somersaut into a tangle
when the force only hastens entrapment?
perhaps for the initial rush of adrenaline
that would cascade a rounder cycle of escape.

2008-10-17T01:32:00.003+08:00

it isn't in the slightest of idea
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.

2008-10-17T01:25:00.004+08:00

something amiss in the drops of rain.
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
but heal.
still
its resistance to soften
the bony edges.
the outskirt of my heart.

come, walk with me.

2008-10-05T23:57:00.003+08:00

nobody did think of it as anything. sure, it was surreal, it felt surreal; but give it a couple of days and what you will have is nothing. nothing to make of it. nothing to feel out of it. nothing at all that holds to it. how tragic, to end as such, when its fabrication was intricate, theatrical and magical; and all the way to its execution did not dissapoint.

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.

on the way back home

2008-10-03T02:41:00.004+08:00

i admire the paradox of the rim of the tyre circling backward as it moves the car forward. i admire this everytime i am on the passenger's seat looking out the window to my neighboring cars. do you recognize that feeling, that good feeling that simplicity induces? isn't it a terribly good feeling? oh the simplest of little things that makes a girl happy! really, we do not ask for much. rain on a cloudy day, unfamiliar lyrics of maddening genius, blossoming flowers, three sightings of flying airplanes in a day, good cup of coffee, good cup of tea, a brilliant random thought maybe. aren't all of those simple?

ps: did you involuntarily sigh after reading that last line? =)

I Remember- Damien Rice

2008-09-27T21:40:00.003+08:00

" I remember it well
the first time that i saw
your head around the door
'cause mine stopped working."

BBC Recording

Live on Letterman

2008-09-22T00:47:00.004+08:00

i want to cry and bleed like my forefathers, like they did in the ancient time. i want to feel the pain in hope to feel the beauty of this new knowledge i now possess. i want to remove myself of anger. deep-seated pure and almost angelic anger in its origin. i want all the seeds to glorious fruits planted in me. in the end what i may conclude is a hungry wanting of self. it is tricky when you know not exactly who this self is. i wonder sometimes whether all those time spent streaming out tears in numbness were indeed the real inner person weeping at her outer most superficial sibling's doing-undoing rather of all things good.

i shall resign now after the heart is spoken of.

2008-09-05T23:06:00.003+08:00

"never mind what your daughter is taught in school,
what she remembers is
what she has learned from you."

-Ra Ra Riot, Each Year

and I say to myself,

2008-09-01T00:26:00.002+08:00

You who tugs heavily
at the shirt of familiarity.
Do not go over
treacherous water
of strangeness.

i'm fucking tired of it!

2008-08-30T23:03:00.007+08:00

thank the heavens there are still openings for me to run away when the noise gets too loud. yes, perhaps it is a fair observation to say that it is just the way somebody is playing his role, but i find it unjust if he fails to have some courtesy for how others are just playing their role too. i hate being in a conflict when i am by hierachy lower than the party i am having a friction with. you know why? because you cant fucking do anything but scream to yourself in a secluded area at dissatisfaction, frustration, and above all, anger. i cant open my big mouth and tell them off because then i would just look like an apprentice of the devil. not that you give me much credit for having opinion anyway, because all the while you are the only one who gets to speak your mind. i have to repress myself and although my troubles may be more significant than yours, they pale in comparison purely from your voicing out yours seemingly fishing for pity.but i am telling you, if that day should come when your noise exceeds the threshold whereby i am able to compose myself and escape first before i let loose all that screaming, i may just let you witness my head exploding and i wouldnt mind much for whatever else at that moment other than releasing an aching heaviness building up inside my thorax and skull. and an outsider might just say you asked for it.

do you wonder if i feel guilty for feeling this way? what do you reckon sigmund freud would say?

i want to be a lion.

2008-08-16T19:31:00.003+08:00

late into the night when my eyes shine in greeness and my fur brushes against the wind, i part my jaws and give out a silent roar. it is habitual to roar, but as queen of the forest, i am aware that should i make the parting of my jaw audible- what more in the midst of the night made for resting, my fellow animals would hear: i summon you here. although i doubt any of them are asleep tonight. we are all awake for the lunar eclipse. bless the lord for his beautiful creations!

Dysmenorrhea

2008-07-18T18:50:00.003+08:00

It is up eating my brain
This morning what started in my abdomen
A substance at its monthly travel
Cruising expensively
from those local vessels
and lazily strolling
in arrogance
to the vessels of higher level.

2008-07-14T00:23:00.003+08:00

i spilled seven drops of water on the face of my shirt. i quickly swallowed the rest of the sea of them in my mouth at trying to avoid spraying out a laughter towards my clumsiness resulting from a soft tremor of hypoglycemia in the hand on glass and a tongue yearning iced drink thanks to a stimulated thirst centre. but most of all i was shaking my head to losing table manners out of hurrying.

A CHANGE THAT MOVES.

2008-07-12T00:20:00.009+08:00

Politicians roam in my head.
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.

An artiste
spilling paints
in the right hemisphere of my brain
later waiting for the writer
to wake from her deep sleep;
a masterpiece soon to hang.

A vagabond
going from one neuronal city
to another
In adventure;
in hopelessness
of the frustration
that constancy brings.

I,
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=)

2008-07-12T00:05:00.003+08:00

The grass had a blue tinge to it. I lay my back down under the unknown tree, next to that patchy brown spot devoid of greeness. You may see clearness on the brim of my eyes but this was not what that colored those short plants their subtle highlights. In my suppositon, it was the sun projecting in its rays, the day's sky. I saw above me the wind persuading the young and old leaves into a dance. They obliged with an initial slowness. When with familiarity and gained trust, I was showered with golden graces. It made me smile, but secretly I hoped the tree wasn't shaken because of my failing to recognize its name.

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?

a rush of green-tasting air.

2008-07-06T22:16:00.003+08:00

i could no longer breathe the same air you inhale and exhale at your expensive taste. truth be told, i am growing sick of its thickness that seems to heavily bind itself to my red blood cells at their slow and steady pace in my lungs; with its metallic odor trying to reign over the purity of the common oxygen. each day passes with me asphyxiated- i won't let you anymore.

2008-06-27T18:39:00.002+08:00

i saw in between the shadows
a grave news.
i heard it halfway
and turned to stone.

at the reunion

2008-06-27T18:36:00.002+08:00

A total chaos
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.

fear in my enemies' eyes.

2008-06-16T01:28:00.005+08:00

dear amy,

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.

signing out,
a friend

2008-06-09T16:36:00.001+08:00

"I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness."

-James Thurber

Goodnight!

2008-06-09T02:04:00.006+08:00

i'll be back in school next week. this is an unpleasant thought. it isn't so because of the prospect of school, but mostly because i am running out of time to do the things i've meticulously exercised in my mind. this will take a toll on the me who will return to the hospital. when you make yourself a concrete picture in your mind, it materializes itself, but with a lazy, sleepy soul like mine, it's without effort that the battle is lost. i am not complaining. i say that because i can't complain.

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!

after the car broke down. (phoenix interrupted at burning herself)

2008-06-01T14:57:00.007+08:00

Incoming candy orange eyes
in a pair of twos.
I wonder if they carry
with them
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,
repeating. repeatedly.

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.
Because
in the space we three are in,
there are hands
more than pleased
to assist
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.
Repercussion?
Dizzy her up later.

2008-06-01T14:42:00.003+08:00

i would like a shot of espresso for my mornings. that's all it takes. a cute tiny cup of good strong coffee. i would set to make it a good day, if not great. and if it is bound to go bad, i could deceive myself into thinking it can't be that bad, i had good coffee to start this all off. it is such a romantic idea in my head. me and my friend.

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?"

2008-05-18T12:42:00.003+08:00

"I hope this finds you and finds you well."

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

2008-05-18T12:36:00.003+08:00

“And the motivation to play with these guys is that I’ve never played in a band in which the people made music that carried more atmosphere and beauty in it. I was always only interested in what I did and never impressed by what the others did. But when I met the guys, I was so delighted, I wanted to be part of it. And when you’ve experienced how it is to play with a good bassist, how it is when different elements interact, then it makes you addicted, completely. It is an intoxication”

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.... =)

2008-04-28T01:46:00.005+08:00

do you know how when you wake up in the morning and cannot recognize your face in the mirror? what if this goes on for every hour of every day for as long as you can remember? i imagine it would be a terrible thing to have to live with. even when you do have a sense of who you are or at least who you are supposed to be, it is hard enough trying to find the answer to that golden question of "who am i?"; what more with not knowing whom you are floating in.

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.

the free hours in the library

2008-04-26T22:47:00.004+08:00

16 April

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?

21 April

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.

learn

2008-04-20T15:30:00.004+08:00

i thought i heard a thousand words
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
of morality,
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?

just as.
just as.
i will take care of you.

quoting Saturday by Ian McEwan

2008-04-11T22:44:00.003+08:00

"Inexpertly, Theo has made the coffee at triple strength. But fatherly to the last, Henry drinks it down. Now he is surely committed to the day."

of a musician

2008-04-11T22:15:00.005+08:00

Dear Will Sheff of Okkervil River,

"....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.

-Amy

in exam

2008-03-29T12:57:00.004+08:00

yes the kids shall test me. i am one giant with emotionless facies who knows not how to entertain the pediatrics population.

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!

2008-03-17T02:46:00.004+08:00

In the car, on a bright morning, with him on the passenger's seat, as thin as air, I have little patience for red traffic lights. I want to run in the wind, in anger-in happiness; occassionally wanting to collide in a wreck. It isn't a question of his absence. It rather is how I take his presence.

a 5-month-old respond to a tag courtesy of kye=)

2008-03-16T01:38:00.004+08:00

Besides its old-age response, the fact that I would not tag anyone would lead to the death of this tag in my hands. Well, for what it’s worth, here are 8 random facts/habits about me:

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! =)

separate self and relinquish

2008-03-12T00:26:00.002+08:00

what if i deny all these hands, run into the woods and find me a giant tree i could befriend, and it would be my home too? do not extend your charity and send me a knight on his brown horse. he is but an armored physique, clueless at heart. i will search instead for lightness when the lions are my fire, and the wind gentle and the rain suppressed and the stars never too many and the moon in her generous spill and the jungle at ease, while i sleep under the sky.

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.

busy painting decay

2008-03-10T23:22:00.002+08:00

it had not wanted to stay, but persuasion pressed to its submissiveness.

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.

as a rule i like all vegetables

2008-02-17T22:03:00.001+08:00

But I sometimes would put aside cabbage and cauliflower. I do not really fancy root vegetables as well, but I give all veges a chance, I do. And I could positively say I’m crazy over greens. Well, except for green peas. I do eat them, but there are times my tongue does not favor them.

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.

2008-02-12T22:28:00.003+08:00

to gather thoughts into a well-formed bowl of opinion is to dive and dive through a sea of words and also try (oh so very hard) to dodge the big fishes of your subconsciously favorite phrases.

Give me a piece of mind if you will, but let me make my own decision.

2008-02-12T22:27:00.001+08:00

2008-02-12T22:02:00.002+08:00

I will write my broken heart over. See if you care. Because there is a pang of pain caved up in the hollow circle of my heart- the area which refuses joy by refusing making a sound to being drummed.

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.

I'm Dependent on Coffee so Shoot Me!

2008-02-11T20:59:00.001+08:00

My Insect-Death-Trap Coffee Mug
-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.

2008-02-08T02:46:00.003+08:00

pretend

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.

2008-01-15T21:50:00.002+08:00

walk the rest of the way

who has my heart?
it’s missing.
under a blanket i breathe out loud.
not caring to be discreet.
once hope, it brews.
now its mists, they are lost in the rain.

2008-01-15T14:32:00.001+08:00

change into a position where it scares you most to be standing in your own cute little feet as they are too soft and highly at the threat of quicksand. i may not understand why you refuse to grow, but i cheer you up all the same. nothing is all too bright all the way- even life wants blackness in between. but you were thinking it something suspiciously significant that we work better when the sun is blanketed over.

dehydrated too

2008-01-09T22:16:00.001+08:00

if i could paint this state of mind, there isnt a color quite accurate to describe it. as i am more articulate with my pencil than i am with brushes, i wouldnt even attempt to the canvas. however the traffic from the highest organ to my edematous fingers (from a 24-hour-sleep) isnt of a racing track.

there is a thing or a person i do not like to meet. sleep is a perfect hideout.

hello partner

2008-01-04T01:36:00.001+08:00

sit next to me while i enter a room of endless depth to fish out a decision and carry it to the exit. you must hold my hand when i work to execute it. i need that much support. sleep has grown lazy eyes on my spine. but if there was something to stop you, i'd understand. i could simulate your presence in my mind to a solid existence, however do not ever be at your leisure to witness a snapping sound. i would most be lost.

so close, so fall apart.

2007-12-30T22:39:00.001+08:00

It hasn't been too bright. All i need is to be up and kick my shoes up in the air and breathe the air so my asthmatic lungs would choke in contaminated oxygen and subsequently sweat out coldness that is warmth inside; then make my heart pump a rush that ejects violently to a crescendo and resolves to a normal heart beat- let's pray i don't see the beauty of closing my eyes and skipping a beat: and that would be the last.

2007-12-15T21:17:00.001+08:00

"it annoys me how pretty my voice is... how polite it can sound when perhaps what I'm singing is deeply acidic."

says thom yorke on his vocal delivery on fake plastic trees, having affected by seeing jeff buckley in concert.

"to maintain is much challenging than it is to attain."

2007-12-11T22:24:00.001+08:00

-amy

in our homes.

2007-12-10T23:23:00.001+08:00

when do you find a time to get out of a calm weather and seek out a storm? if i could offer some release, then we could run away. i am afraid. we all are, sweetheart. but i'll let you know it's all right, we have a pulsating something we embrace. let go of my hand once you find your nest. i protect you still. know that you are safe.

oh whales!

2007-12-07T01:05:00.001+08:00

i wish i was on that boat.

in full whiteness

2007-12-06T01:36:00.002+08:00

send me him
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

Videotape

2007-12-02T16:58:00.001+08:00

it must be jonny's doing.
in the middle of my brain.
like a tin banging against my skull.
an oddity that fits
in between
gentle strokes of fingers
and
excited beatings of sticks.

the big car accident

2007-12-02T16:18:00.001+08:00

send perhaps four legs to the brake
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.

anger isolation

2007-11-26T23:57:00.002+08:00

check my pulse
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.