The Savage Garden

Gian Lorenzo Bernini

2012-01-24T18:08:00.001-08:00

I've always had a thing for statues and Bernini contributed to this penchant of mine. Bernini is arguably the best sculptor, again in my opinion. And I dedicate a stanza of this poem, Sculptor by Sylvia Plath to his magnificence.

" To his house the bodiless
Come to barter endlessly
Vision, wisdom for bodies
Palpable as his, and weighty. "

Selected favourites:

Trevi Fountain

Apollo and Daphne

Ecstasy of St. Teresa

The Rape of Proserpina

And a close detail of The Rape of Proserpina which shows realistic dents in the flesh

History

2012-01-22T10:08:00.000-08:00

" I’d known for a long time why I loved history. It was because the historians made it sound so coherent, so purposeful, so complete. They’d take an entire century and impose a meaning on it, a personality, a destiny - and this was, of course, a lie.

But it soothed me in my solitude to read that sort of writing, to think that the fourteenth century was a “distant mirror”, to paraphrase a famous title, to believe that we could learn from whole eras as if they had existed with marvelous continuity simply for us."

Anne Rice always does it best. She describes what I feel with unerring accuracy.

Love Your Tumor

2012-01-18T03:55:00.001-08:00

You said you want to
Kiss the wound
that is my mouth.
You would
suck away the
cosmic, eternal
darkness
into
you.

But you
don't know that
nobody will find the pain
in me,
because I am
your tumor. I
am your pain.
I love you
but I will never
wake again,
even if
I tried.

Outrun My Gun

2012-01-12T03:54:00.000-08:00

This pretty much sums up everything I felt this week:

1. They exhaust me,

I bore them.

2. I would like to

be able to speak again.

3. I've got a blister from

touching everyone I see

the abyss opens up;

it steals everything from me.

4. Beaten black and blue

from the inside
now I can only be thought
of as a bruise.

5. I am sorry

if you think I'm a zombie,

but I'm just

too empty.

6. Crushed beneath the gaze of strangers.

7. I'm sorry for hating all of you.

8. And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming

Or the moment of the truth in your lies

When everything feels like the movies

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.

9. And I don't want the world to see me

Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

10. Silence entombs me.

I could fade into silence.

I dissolve in its silky flux.

I am Silence.

The Art of Being Alone

2012-01-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

" Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. "

~ Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid

Alexander McQueen

2012-01-08T22:40:00.001-08:00

Of all the many fashion designers who are talented beyond imagination these days, I have to say that I have a penchant for Alexander McQueen. I guess it's because his designs are comparatively darker. It has an obsessive and morbid nature if you look beneath the gilded sequins and elaborate fabric and in a way some of it is almost, grotesque. And you know, that there is nothing I like more than grotesquery.

Besides, his designs have a romantic and sometimes medieval feel to it. Even when he designs something futuristic, there are the telltale details that suggest ancient origins. Also, I love the theatricality of his intricate and almost labyrinthine gowns. Every piece seems to hint at a mystery or a clandestine secret behind its folds. Oh God I could die in his glorious gowns. Anyway, a few of my favourites:

Autumn/Winter collection 2009

Autumn/Winter collection 2010

Savage Beauty collection: Romantic Nationalism

Miscellaneous

Happy New Year

2012-01-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

Can't really believe it's 2012 already. I'm skeptical about the whole Mayan prophecy thing, but in any case, I really hope that the world doesn't end this year or anytime soon.

I started 2012 reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, having read the abridged version a few years ago and for some reason this gives me the confidence that it's going to be a good year. I mean, I know it's a downright depressing and even slightly maniacal book but, I don't know, it soothes me like all depressing things do.

Anyway, quote from the book:
"We all have such fateful objects -- it may be a recurrent landscape in one case, a number in another -- carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of specific significance for us: here shall John always stumble; there shall Jane's heart always break."

Leonardo da Vinci

2011-12-31T18:39:00.000-08:00

Alright, everyone who knows me knows that I'm absolutely fanatic about Leonardo da Vinci. Yet I don't know why I've never written about his work in my blog before. Until now, that is.

He's the most ingenious man ever lived (in my opinion anyway), surpassing even Newton. Not only was he a painter and sculptor, as we know him to be, he was also an architect, musician, writer, botanist, mathematician, engineer, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, inventor and scientist. I know, that man has a kick-ass resume.

Anyway, these are a few of his paintings and sketches that I adore:

Virgin of the Rocks

St. Jerome in the Wilderness

St John the Baptist

La Scapigliata

The Battle of Anghiari

Leda and the Swan

And of course,

Mona Lisa

The Girl Who Had Maggots

2011-12-28T18:38:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a girl who was in love. And when her love died, she had him encased in the concourse of her mind and would not let him go. Soon, the corpse began to fester and maggots infested her mind.

The maggots originated from the soft tissues of her brain. Slowly, leisurely, they ate her brain as she slept. And sleep she did often. When she cried the maggots wriggled out from the corner of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Still, she did not notice the maggots because they were clever: they took turns eating her brain so that she felt nothing. But they were breeding now, and the maggot babies were hard to control. They cried and they wanted more.

One day, she woke up with a spitting headache and was left with no choice but to call the doctor. The doctor came and felt her head and pronounced that a surgery was to be taken place immediately. She consented. And when the doctor had her head cut open, the maggots came squirming and writhing out, their pale white bodies intertwined like lovers'. The doctor gently wiped away the maggots to reveal a moiety of brain left.

The girl died. And so did the maggots.

Joyeux Noel

2011-12-25T18:37:00.000-08:00

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the word seemingly most indifferent.

~ Taylor Caldwell

Goodbye Darling

2011-12-23T10:36:00.000-08:00

Your love left blisters on
my heart,
your breath stained
my skin.
And now you say
you would leave.
Again.

Alright
you may go.
But first,
could you please
find me a donor -
I can't grow
another new heart
anymore.

Shopping Trip in KL - Part 3

2011-12-23T01:02:00.003-08:00

Well, not much happened in Day 3. We slept late - I mean, they slept late. Yianthin and I were up for ages. Then we walked to KLCC (again) for our last meal in KL.

KLCC

How can people not like Helena Bonham Carter? She's phenomenal.

Oh, by the way, I would say that it was a productive shopping trip. =D

Shopping Trip in KL - Part 2

2011-12-23T01:02:00.001-08:00

And Day 2 starts with a relaxing swim in the hotel pool where the view is awesome if you float on your back.

Then to Midvalley Megamall and The Gardens, where we had to take the commuter back to KLCC. And let me tell you this: the commuter was a ride in hell. I think I'm going to be traumatized for life. It was like being cramped into a gas chamber during the Holocaust only the gas used is carbon dioxide and human sweat.

But then, we did survive and even managed to shop and take pretty pictures in KLCC. We're professional shoppers, I tell you.

Hotel Pool

Midvalley, The Gardens and KLCC

Shopping Trip in KL - Part 1

2011-12-23T01:01:00.001-08:00

Sorry for the lack of updates. I just came back from a trip to KL with Yianthin, Wenjuin, Yanying and Shuenwen. This is Day 1.

On the road:

This is my beloved Bobo and I. I've had him for seventeen years and I bring him everywhere. =)

Yianthin and Wenjuin at the back.

And Shuenwen who ate all my pink guava.

In Ikea:

We're all admiring the golden mirror, haha.

Yanying. The kids were watching us go crazy over the toys. And their parents too, I think.

In Pavilion:

History

2011-12-20T05:28:00.001-08:00

" I’d known for a long time why I loved history. It was because the historians made it sound so coherent, so purposeful, so complete. They’d take an entire century and impose a meaning on it, a personality, a destiny - and this was, of course, a lie.

But it soothed me in my solitude to read that sort of writing, to think that the fourteenth century was a “distant mirror”, to paraphrase a famous title, to believe that we could learn from whole eras as if they had existed with marvelous continuity simply for us."

Anne Rice always does it best. She describes what I feel with unerring accuracy.

To-Do List

2011-12-13T05:59:00.000-08:00

To tell you the truth, I've been feeling really empty ever since my exams are over. I don't know, maybe I'm just not quite used to total liberation yet. Anyway, I wake up every morning to watch Mummy Autopsy and then have my breakfast, then watch another movie, then have lunch, then read American Gods by Neil Gaiman (of which I totally recommend), then watch Ancients Behaving Badly or something from History channel, then wander around or stare at the ceiling or sit in front of the fridge deciding what to eat then end up eating nothing, then watch America's Next Top Model re-runs, then have dinner, then watch How I Met Your Mother re-runs, then go online, then read The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch, then sleep.

So, I've decided that I really need a To-Do list or I'll wake up one day to find that I couldn't get up because my legs had already rotted away.

Things to do:

1. Driving lessons. Not looking forward to it. =(
2. Shopping for New Year. =D
3. Learn French.
4. Christmas shopping!
5. Russian literature. I refuse to be intimidated. ~~But I am.~~

Game of Thrones

2011-12-06T06:00:00.000-08:00

So you know I've always been an absolute movie maniac and my not-so-recent movie obsession is Game of Thrones. It's based on a series of fantasy novels by G.R.R. Martin about the... well, the game of thrones. It's about people who are willing to do anything for power, people who already have power and trying to keep it and people who've lost their power.

And yes, like most movies that I like, it has an abundant number of hot people. You know I can never resist armour-wearing, sword-wielding, arrow-shooting, horse-riding guys. With thick British/Scottish accent. And soft, curly hair.

First of all, there's Jon Snow

Then, Robb Stark

And Renly Baratheon,

And finally, antagonist, Viserys.

I Miss You

2011-12-04T05:50:00.000-08:00

I miss you.
And all I am breathing are thoughts.
I gasp and splutter and there is no
air. Only dense clouds of
memories.

The little droplets of anguish run
like blood - rolling and tumbling onto each other
they clot into masses of black and they
choke me
to the point of delirium.

In my lugubrious dose of morbidity
I cried with a thousand eyes.
I wander alone
in the reverberating hollow concourse
of your absence:
missing you and hating you
to the point of death.

Hello December

2011-12-01T05:48:00.000-08:00

December brings the promise of all things wonderful. The absence of winter has failed to dwindle the pre-Christmas excitement and I'm beginning to really anticipate Christmas. I don't know why but it has an indescribable hold over me as something magical and immeasurably heartwarming.

Exams would be over by then - thank God - and the holidays would commence. And I would finally be free of high school and though it's a sad and daunting thought, it fills me with undeniable enthusiasm about what the future holds for me.

It's only the beginning of my life and be it a happy or difficult one, (please let it be the former) I'm determined that it should have an absolutely rocking takeoff.

And as usual, please be good to me. =)

Herbert Draper

2011-11-22T05:46:00.000-08:00

He's another one of my numerous - I admit - favourite painters, famous for depicting mythological scenes from ancient Greece.

The Foam Sprite

Lamia

Ulysses and the Sirens

Il Fiorno e la Stella del Tramonto

Study for Autumn

Insomnia

2011-11-18T01:49:00.001-08:00

The nights would not let me sleep;
the daylight blinded me.
I am left to stagnate, vegetate
and to regress.

Purge my mind from skin to bones,
disrobe me from it:

for such thoughts I have;

of the grotesque and the deplorable
that would consume me whole and alive.

Would that I could be empty breasted again -
breathe freely as though the particles
of air would not choke me to death.
And my heart of flesh and blood
does not weigh like gold.

Yet the hellish din would abide, issuing
from lips burned black of thirst
to murmur the most egregious words
from which rang the ugly truth.

The Fall

2011-11-05T05:45:00.000-07:00

I'm plummeting. Through a depth that only nightmare can fathom. An emptiness so perfect we can't conceive of. And I'm falling fast.

Event Horizon

2011-10-27T03:37:00.001-07:00

(noun) - the point of no return where escape is impossible

Le Tre Madri

2011-10-18T05:09:00.001-07:00

So after fretting so much about what I'm going to dress up as for Halloween, I finally got it. I'm going to be Mater Tenebrarum, literal translation Mother of Darkness but more commonly known as Lady of Darkness.

Okay, so basically it's the story of The Three Mothers, who are three sisters who created the art of witchcraft in the early 11th century. They are extremely powerful and evil and are often thought to be Death personified. The eldest and wisest is Mater Suspiriorum, Lady of Sighs aka The Black Queen. The second sister is Mater Lachrymarum, Lady of Tears, most beautiful of the three. And the youngest sister is Mater Tenebrarum, Lady of Darkness, most cruel of the three.

I've got most of the makeup figured out, but I still need a long black dress. So anyone, if you have, pleaaaassee. =) Gosh, I'm so excited! This is going to be one of my last Halloweens here and it's gotta be awesome.

Lyrics of Mater Tenebrarum, courtesy of my favourite death metal band, Theatre des Vampires:
But the third sister, who is also the youngest !
Hush ! Whisper whilst we talk of her !
Her kingdom is not large, or else no flesh should live ; but within that kingdom all power is hers.
She droops not ; and her eyes rising so high might be hidden by distance.
She is the defier of God. She is also the mother of lunacies, and the suggestress of suicides.
Deep lie the roots of her power ; but narrow is the nation that she rules.
And her name is Mater Tenebrarum - Our Lady of Darkness.

L'enfer d'Humanite

2011-10-15T22:32:00.001-07:00

We are the haunted and the haunting;

eyes stark, limbs suspended

we drift through the years

unaware of the phantom vulture who

licks its beak at our asininity.

Cold and alone,

we all yearn to love and be loved.

We empty ourselves of a paramour

only to be filled with another and we

wanted to cling,

but there was nothing to cling on to.

The dead leave us starving

with mouths full of love. The world is

in vicissitude, yet we remain

unyielding and stubborn and we moan

incessantly, pathetically until in a rage

God kills us.

And so we die.

The Reprieve

2011-10-07T22:33:00.000-07:00

I will be eternally thankful that on a day long ago, I stumbled upon this incredible author who writes on existentialism, Jean Paul Sartre, most notable for his work, No Exit. He writes divinely and yes, he does contribute to my apparent morbidity but truly, he's amazing.

The following is an extract:

An abyss of shame has opened right in front of him; he had only to drop into it… He leaned over the pit and felt dizzy. Shame awaited him at the bottom of it; he had to but choose that shame. He closed his eyes, and the day’s exhaustion surged back upon him. Exhaustion, shame, and death. Shame, self-chosen. Why didn't I go? Why did I choose not to go?

The black pit was still there, and at the bottom of it shame. He peered down into it, suddenly he understood, and anguish wrung his heart; it’s a trap, if I fall into it I could never face myself again. Never. He sat up straight and said firmly to himself: “I didn’t go because I was tight!” The abyss closed; he had chosen. He had come too near to shame, he had been too frightened; from now on he had chosen to never feel shame again. Never again.

~ Jean Paul Sartre, The Reprieve

Deepest and Darkest

2011-09-25T05:13:00.001-07:00

Better to be cradled in sea shells
And float through the millennium of nights;
Alone and forgotten, but infinitely
free - free as I had never been,
from the alien hurt
and from you.

I've loved you too long
and now my soul is bloated -
swollen for feasting on you:
you and your perennial
cynicism. My dark prince,
you hold too much darkness and I
inhaled too much of you.

Of black I know too well.
Viscous and tenacious it clings
so possessively to me, to my
body and my bones. And
there is nowhere to hide
from the swooping sadness
that creeps up on me.

Better to be cradled by the whisperings
and sleep through a thousand years;
uncomprehending and dispassionate, but
miraculously living and breathing
as I had never been.

Tomorrow

2011-09-09T21:27:00.001-07:00

Soo... I've been studying today and I sort of panicked when I realised that I've not studied for English at all. So I went online to search for past year essay questions and voila! Year 2007, Question 5, Title: Tomorrow. Tell me what you think about it. =)
______________________________________________________________________

As she lay amidst the rubbles with the dusty air coating the insides of her throat, all she could think about is a song by ‘A Chorus Line’. It starts with “kiss the day goodbye, the sweetness and the sorrows…"

Because that is why it is so dark in here, isn’t it? It is the end of a day and tomorrow… tomorrow she’ll be free. Someone will have found her by then.

The feel of the cool wood beneath her bare feet, the smell of a freshly painted stage, the mild sting of the harsh stage light on her eyes as she struggles to adjust her vision… Her head swims in the ocean of audiences before her, soaking in the light of admiration, the sweet luscious words of endless compliments. Her fingertips brushes the soft fabric of her immaculate satin gown – she is the Wicked Witch of the West today, and tomorrow she will be Ophelia in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and the day after tomorrow she will be Wendla in Spring Awakening.

The piano starts and the flurry of crystalline notes fall like snowflakes on the pavement. Out of the silence there leapt these perfectly formed and discrete notes, these multitude of cascading sounds that clash together magically, miraculously in harmony. She could close her eyes and soak the music into her soul; she wants to eat up the glissandos, she wants to lick clean the gorgeous throbbing arpeggios. But handsome, blue-eyed Alex is singing to her - in the guise of Fiyero he is declaring his love. Her mouth parts on its own accord and out pours forth a current of lyrical melody, so sweet, so smooth and so infinitely enthralling that she herself is caught by surprise.

The duet ends and as Alex kisses her forehead the lights dimmed until she is lying in the darkness again. The excruciating pain that shoots up her left leg is over and numbness has taken its place. She is still there under the debris, buried deep in crumbling concrete. Tomorrow, she promises herself, tomorrow everything will be well again. She will be saved, and the dream of singing in Broadway will never again appear as a figment of her imagination.

Tomorrow she will be Wendla, and Alex, her Melchior. And together, they will sing and dance in their secret meadow. She could feel his large, warm hand on the small of her back and on her neck as their souls are joined in the union of voices. Wendla will not die in Spring Awakening tomorrow, and Melchior will not suffer the loss of his heart. They will be together forever and ever and ever, for endless tomorrows.

With that thought her mind went black and she never had another thought again. It is the dawn of the morrow and she is dead, taking with her the death of her dreams. The world will never see her again, as Elphaba or Ophelia or Imogen or her personal favourite, Wendla. Alex will suffer the same fate as Melchior, but eventually someone else will take her place as Wendla. Someone else will take her place in Alex’s heart and the world will be right again. The pain of the family grieving for their loved ones who died in the bombing will ease with time. Their memories would fade. The world still rotates on its axis and the tomorrows will still come.

“Kiss the day goodbye, and point me towards tomorrow…”

Her Love Story

2011-08-17T04:02:00.000-07:00

Lying at the bottom of a lake, where the sunlight is too weak to penetrate, where she is shrouded in complete darkness, she longs to be remembered.

She feels safe in the heart of the lake. The gentle current nudges her but she is tangled in seaweeds, her hair is caught in the rocks and she remains where she had sunk. In the blessed darkness, in the water-clogged silence, she can finally sleep for a millennium of nights. Everything seems so slow and far away where she is. The water swirls in a drugged sluggishness, cradling her the way her mother never did.

She wonders about him up above - it seems so distant and so otherworldly. She wonders if he would remember her years from now. The girl who drowned. It sounds so romantic, so tragically beautiful that she almost want to drown again. The feel of water rushing into her lungs, filling her up, squeezing the emptiness out of her soul...

She longs to be remembered through stories told; how she had been forced to swallow her fears, her voice and finally her love. The stories are bubbling inside of her, threatening to spill. If she opens her mouth it would all come tumbling out: black and viscous, putrid and repugnant. It would pour from her; from her mouth and her eyes and her ears until she is flaccid and depleted.

Lying at the bottom of the lake she muses about the greatest love stories ever written: of Romeo and Juliet and Cleopatra and Mark Antony. He loved her and she loved him. And now that she's dead, her's will be a love story amongst star-crossed lovers.

Son of Sam

2011-08-16T01:04:00.001-07:00

By serial killer, David Berkowitz, aka Son of Sam

I've always had an unhealthy obsession with serial killers, psychologically wise. It's magic how their minds work. More than half of the serial killers have disconcertingly high IQs. It's fascinating how twisted their minds are. One of my favourite serial killers, (sounds weird, doesn't it?) is David Berkowitz, who wrote beautiful letters to taunt the police. The above is also a letter of his. My favourite is this poem:

Because Craig is Craig,
So must the streets be filled with Craig (death)
And huge drops of lead
Poured down upon her head
Until she was dead -
Yet the cats still come out at night to mate
And the sparrows still sing in the morning.

Please Love Me

2011-08-10T03:48:00.001-07:00

It seems that I've gotten used to loving you without having you around. Those bitter days spent longing for you: for your chin resting on top of my head, for your fingers interlaced with mine, for your arm draped around my shoulder; those days are stacked in the darkest corner of my subconscious mind.

Once a while on a rainy day I leaf through the yearnings, the pangs of desire that arched my body and stole my soul - because that's what you do to me. Science proved that when a star dies it forms a black hole that sucks everything, even light into its abysmal void. And that's what your absence is like - a black hole, sucking my innards and my soul, even the light of my life into an event horizon. It sucks and pulls and pulls and sucks until I lie as empty as a shell.

Even if I tried to forget you, even if I have you incarcerated in the dustiest room of my mind, you would've seeped between cracks under doors and through keyholes. And as though in revenge you would've haunted me night and day, with your face imprinted on the back of my lids, so that even in sleep I dreamt of you.

And I would've hated myself for being willing to continue loving you in misery, just for the smallest chance that you would love me too.

The Longest Night

2011-08-04T03:42:00.000-07:00

In the darkness there is but
White flashes of flesh:
My arms and yours;
the half light.

The reverberating hollowness that
Captures my heart holds
Dominion over me. Every
Heartbeat hurts and

I couldn't breathe.
It doesn't matter that
We're breathing breathlessness
Into each other.

And it doesn't matter that
We both know we
Won't last the night.

Air

2011-08-03T07:02:00.000-07:00

They say that she would never wake again. She lies perfectly still on the bed, arms demurely set on both of her sides, eyes gently closed. She drifts in and out of consciousness, and she listens.

The men and women, they whisper - yet they couldn't have spoken much louder. The hiss of breath that escapes from the gaps of their teeth as they whisper, the brush of fabric on naked skin as they unconsciously shift their position; all these are aberrantly loud to her. As though she is the air that occupies the room. The constant beeping of the monitor pulsates through her, she could dance a jig to the rhythm, yet she couldn't feel it. She wanted to touch it - her heart - but she couldn't find it.

Air. She could be the air. She tests the notion in her head. She would be everywhere then. She could diffuse through the tiniest pore, she could inhabit him. She could occupy his mouth, fill his mouth with her and only her. She could slip through his shirt, lie on his chest as he sleeps. She could breathe on him, she could lick him, she could squeeze him with all her might and he would not have noticed.

Her dreams then, would have come true: she had always wanted to be just like Ariel, the little mermaid. Only instead of becoming a mermaid, she becomes air.

Hieronymus Bosch

2011-07-31T07:19:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favourite classical painters: Hieronymus Bosch, who is Dutch. Among all his fantabulous paintings, my favourite would undoubtedly be The Garden of Earthly Delights. I mean, come on, even the name is totally my style.

Umm, it's really blur here because it's a really, really big painting. It's divine, I tell you. It's... enlightening. The first time I looked at it, I felt as if someone just tipped all the knowledge in the world into my head and my head's just swelling to the point of bursting. (You know, like in Indiana Jones?) I felt a spiritual awakening when I looked at this painting. It's not Christian, Catholic, Buddhism, Islamic or any religion known to the world. It's just... celestial. Here's the link to a bigger painting.

Ming says that this painting is creepy. I don't really see why, apart from it being too godly to be produced by human hands. God, I love this phrase: not by human hands. People used to describe what Armand drew as "not by human hands" too. Anyway, back to Hieronymus Bosch. I know that it's different from the usual paintings by classical artists I love, you know, Raphael, Botticelli, Leonardo da Vinci... But for some unfathomable reason, I find myself obsessed with this painting.

He has other works too but I love this the most. =)

The Temptation of St. Anthony

The Last Judgement

Visions of the Hereafter

Well, alright, I love Visions of the Hereafter too.

Happy 17th Birthday, Love

2011-07-25T07:17:00.000-07:00

It was my birthday yesterday and I'm officially seventeen now. Imagine, seventeen! I've dreamt about this before, way back when I was maybe eight? I thought that I'd be so grown up, so sophisticated. I thought that I would be one of those super cool graduates, you know, fun yet hardworking and stuff.

Never have I thought that I would be like I am today. Sinking deeper and deeper into the proverbial merde. Here I am, lazing away while my future looms ahead, portent and foggy. That's the word - foggy. I haven't the foggiest idea what's going to happen. I still feel as small I as felt ten, fifteen, seventeen years ago.

But enough of all that emo shit. What I really want to say is thank you all. Thank you to all Facebook friends who greeted me. Thank you to all my friends who endured me for all these years. Thank you, everyone who touched my life, even for the briefest of seconds. And thank you, thank you, for the lovely pressies. I solemnly swear to cherish them for all my life. *guides' honour*

And most importantly, thank you to all those closest and dearest to me. I know that I used to (and will probably still) hurt you most. You watched me break down, you endured my occasional mood swings, you excused my crazy PMS behaviour, you know all my weaknesses and love me through it all. You guys rock my world and I hope I rocked yours too.

I know that I can't end my seventeenth birthday post without making any promises so here goes: I promise myself that I will study harder and I will love myself more. I promise my friends that I will try to be less maniacal during my PMS period. I promise my family that I will try to be more patient and well yeah, less PMS-bitch with them. I promise that I will try to keep my promises.

So thank you, God, Yahweh, Buddha, Allah, Zeus, Jove, Brahma, forces of the universe, unknown beings... Thank you for seventeen years of (despite all my complaints) wonderful life. Please continue loving me. =)

A Tribute To Harry Potter

2011-07-20T07:15:00.000-07:00

First of all, thank you, J.K. Rowling, who basically built the columns that supported my childhood. Thank you, Harry Potter, for surviving till the end so that I can have the fairy tale ending. Thank you, Snape, for proving me wrong. Thank you, Hollywood, for making it into a movie and not screwing things up (too much).

This is my favourite two sentences in the whole series. Yeah, as in, seven books.

Thank you, Voldemort, for wanting to kill Harry and making the whole story possible. Thank you for being so evil. I love you and I miss you.

My second favourite Hogwarts teacher, after Remus Lupin.

Underneath all his tough, evilness, Voldemort is just a sweet, lonely man.

We've all grown up watching Harry Potter and it's just sad it's ended. I remember waiting for the Hogwarts letter on my 11th birthday till like, 4 am in the morning.

I love you, J.K. Rowling, forever and always.

What I've Been Doing

2011-07-17T07:14:00.000-07:00

Thursday
Watched the final instalment of Harry Potter with Yianthin and Khai. Promised that I will not cry but in the end, my brother said that the guy sitting next to him was snickering at me for crying. Like, what the heck's your problem, man?

The point is, Snape died. That scene when he conjured a doe Patronus made me gag on my own tears. It's pathetic, really. I mean, for God's sake I've read the book for like, 10 times? And here I am, sobbing like I don't know he loved Lily and that he's going to die. Truth be told, I miss Voldemort.

There's something wrong with my tear ducts, seriously.

Friday
Swore that I will wear black for an entire week for the death of my childhood. (Since Harry Potter is at an end.)

Watched My Sister's Keeper again. Cried buckets, again. Okay, I admit that this is a really good movie, Cameron Diaz, but that doesn't mean that I like you. Or you, Alec Baldwin.

I really really like Taylor, Kate's boyfriend though. He's so sweet when he held the pail as Kate vomited into it. And Abigail Breslin was, as usual, superb. Nothing's going to make me read the novel by Jodi Picoult though. I don't know why but I have a personal vendetta against her. For some unfathomable reason.

Saturday
It's one of the loveliest Saturdays I've had in a long, long time. The reason being that I do not need to go to school for extra-curricular activities. =)

I woke up cheerful and smiley-faced until I looked at the mirror. What horror! My eyes are swollen beyond recognition due to crying. Having read somewhere that applying ice would help, I did so and praise the Lord, the swellings subsided. My good mood returned and I studied Biology.

Tuition in the afternoon was not fun at all. I was the only one who went in my row so it was kinda stupid really, sitting alone in an empty row. In fact, it was so lonely that I thought I might start crying again, what with my crazy tear ducts and the current state of my hormones. But I survived it.

Watched Dear John at night. Yes, you may all gasp and wonder how in the world have I not watched it before but it's true - that's the first time. I think it's the chemistry between Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried that spurred such strong emotions in me. And of course, my penchant for soldiers is a contributing factor as well. Anyway, I don't need to tell you what happened next.

Sunday

Woke up with swollen eyes again. But now that I have a secret weapon (ice), I don't have to worry anymore. *evil laughs*

Mum bought tickets to watch Transformers 3 with Khai. I decided not to watch since I don't really like Transformers. Too noisy, too much technology, too many robots. So, I made the mistake of following them to Gurney, since I haven't been there in ages.

Was stuck there alone for almost three and a half hours. There are so many people there, today being Sunday. Yet standing in a crowd, I have never felt more alone. Fortunately, I brought my MPH card so I was able to lounge in the sitting room for three hours. I was halfway through The Seventh Sacrament by David Hewson.

Anyway, Mum took us for Sakae Sushi, which satisfied my earlier craving for Japanese food so it wasn't all that bad.

P.S. Looking back on what I did, it looks like little Miss Lazy has been watching movies instead of studying these days. Tsk. I don't know what to do with myself.

2011-07-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

I love you the way

Waves love the shore.

There were times

when I was filled

to the brim with tender love. I

Loved you gently and I wanted

You

In my arms.

There were times

when my love seemed like a

hurricane: urgent and unrestrainable

Thought of you

All night.

But if you asked me

Why I loved you,

I would've had no idea

Other than I love you

And I do, I do.

High Land

2011-07-11T07:12:00.000-07:00

I was in Cameron Highlands for the weekend with the BIG family. And while I was there, this poem by Jackie Kay suddenly materialized in my head before I even realize how befitting it is to my current whereabouts.

I don't remember who kissed who first,
who touched who first, who anything to whom.
All I remember in the highland night -
the sheep loose outside,
the full moon smoking in the sky -
was that you led me and I led you.
And all of a sudden we were in a small room
in a big house with the light coming in
and your legs open; mine too.
And it was this swirling, twirling thing.
It's hard to fasten it down;
it is hard to remember what was what -
who was who when the wind was coming in.

~ High Land

P.S. I will update pictures as soon as I get my hands on my cousin's pen drive.

Here And Alone

2011-07-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

Are we alone, and here?
And here and alone?

In this room, in
the now.
Do you feel my love?
Pulsating in the air
That we breathe.
My love,
Love,
Is a fever that threatens
To consume us both
Into blackened corpses.

But you are not here,
And I am alone.
My love is still
A burning furnace,
Only now,
there is but one corpse
One corpse,
And a blackened heart.

Craving Tea

2011-07-04T07:12:00.000-07:00

I'm so so sorry for the lack of updates lately. I've been a real good girl, doing my homework, going for choir practices and stuff.

So please give me a few more days and I promise I'll update something nice. =)

Anyway, I currently have a craving for afternoon teas. You know - the authentic English tea complete with scones and earl grey instead of just Milo and biscuits.

Complete English pastries. Love the pot/candle holder.

Tea set. *Envy*

SCONES!!! *salivate*

Hermit Thoughts

2011-06-28T07:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I just feel like hiding in the bushes for the rest of my life. I'll eat wild berries and drink morning dew to stay alive.

My Productive (ahem) Weekend

2011-06-25T07:09:00.000-07:00

Really? You believe that?

Friday

Mum's friend just came back from Europe *jealous* and she bought us dark chocolates.Finally! I was beginning to really yearn for chocolate. Can't go without chocolate for a month now, can we?

Anyway, mum went out with her friend for dinner and it's just daddy, Khai and I. Daddy was exceptionally kind that day. He brought us to the Temple of Fine Arts for dinner. My brother and I are mad, absolutely bahoola for that place ever since we discovered it 2 years ago.

It's a non-profit (in other words, FREE) restaurant but donations are welcomed. They provide really, really good Indian cuisine that is almost Palace d'India quality. And buffets are on Saturday and Wednesday nights, I think.

Saturday

Loitered around for the entire afternoon. Watched Water For Elephants. Nope, still hate Robert Pattinson and Reese Witherspoon. The movie was okay, but I'm kinda pissed it portrayed August as Uncle Al (whom I absolutely abhor) when he was just crazy. You can't blame people for being crazy, okay? And besides, I love August, he's cute.

Mum, who's been acting like a total teenager lately, went out to dinner with her friends again. Fourth time this week mum, you can lay off the partying, young lady!

Went out with Dad's family. Had Choo Char in Batu Lanchang market. Got addicted to AngryBirds on my niece's iPad. I love the whee sound they make. So cute.

Sunday

Promised that I would belanja Daddy dinner at Mizi's. What was I thinking? I was like, freakin' complaining about being broke and I make that stupid promise? One word: stupid.

Bought two Harry Potter books for Yianthin's birthday. Oh right, everyone, BORDERS is having a 70% sale. I wonder if the rumours about BORDERS closing up are true. I hope not. Please, I'll miss you.

Was supposed to be doing school homework but here I am. In front of the computer. Typing away like nobody's business. One word: speechless.

Signing off. (Not to do homework, mind you. I think CSI: NY is on.)

Misanthropic Madness

2011-06-22T07:10:00.000-07:00

In the vague

Silver pulse of

Moonlight.

Phantoms and

poltergeists:

I summon, when

Dreams no longer satisfy and

Words have lost their coherence.

The air is dense with unspoken

Thoughts - corpses of

Yesterdays lurk

In the slime of the present;

Empty eye-sockets staring,

Judging.

But alone, in

Amaranthine obscenities, I

Am home.

They Would Never Know

2011-06-20T07:08:00.000-07:00

He woke up crying that day. It was a full-blown sobbing spell, the kind that burned the back of your throat and ripped your lungs apart. It had been 40 years since he had cried the exact same way, the heart-wrenching weeping that would've been too ugly in reality but would be perfectly complacent when submitted to words.

He had thought that he was too old, too wise for the ardent feelings that young people seem to display these days. He had himself fooled that she was completely obliterated from his mind, that he wouldn't know her even if he saw her again.

And yet, there she was, standing by the window with her back to him. He saw her again, with the halo on her golden hair and a mole on her neck. He wanted to touch it, kiss it. Are you an angel? She was in his class, and he nearly flunked the first semester having spent every lecture staring at her.

Then, miraculously then, she talked to him. She let him hold her hand when they took long walks to the city, where he lived. She let him kiss her, hesitantly at first, the brushing of lips. When she agreed to marry him he felt like dragging her to the nearest church and have the priest marry them immediately.

There was a fight. It was stupid, really. But they were proud. Relentless. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't listen. He was terrified by the look in her eyes, such cold animosity. Cry, yell, wring your arms, anything but standing there, watching me with those hard, unforgiving eyes. And in his fear he sought out to be stubbornly unyielding, the same frosty mist clouding over his eyes to shield the fear.

He walked away.

He would never know that she would have ran towards him - had he showed the slightest hint that he still loved her - arms flung open to embrace him in her bosom, to repeat the word I'm sorry over and over again until he silence her with a kiss. He would never know that she prayed so hard for him to just stop walking away from her and turn back, that her whole body shook with the ferocity.

He would never know that she did not remarry, and she would never know that neither did he. And they never knew that it would be the last time they would see each other ever again.

The Love We Buried

2011-06-14T07:08:00.000-07:00

It was in the darkness

That we -

Groping and fumbling clumsily -

Buried the love

We had made.

If I forgot the warmth of your

Fingers splayed across my back,

I amended by tasting the phantom honey

Of your lips

In drift between sleep.

But the rain is full of

Ghosts tonight. I dreamt that

You kissed me hard and rough.
What I had forgotten then
I remember now.

My soul was on my lips

And you licked it all away.

So, This Is What's Going On

2011-06-10T07:07:00.000-07:00

1. I want to start jogging again but somehow something's always up whenever I'm all set to go and I have to postpone. It's been, hmm... one and a half weeks now.

2. I am suddenly craving Japanese food. Someone pos-laju for me?

3. I'm feeling nauseous lately. Maybe I'm just bored to the point of vomiting.

4. I'm re-reading Julie and Julia and it's making me want to whip out a pan and cook the best damn boeuf bourguignon ever. Searched for the recipe and boom, practicality took over and I slump back to munch on my apple with my tail between my legs. Thoroughly humbled.

5. Had a disagreement with Dad. He thinks that Royal Stout tastes better than Guinness Stout. Umm, no way. Guinness Stout rocks the stout world.

6. I'm dreading tomorrow the way Anne Boleyn must have dreaded her execution 500 years ago. Choir till 4pm tomorrow. I wonder if I can survive it.

7. Looped 'Breathe Me' by Sia hundreds of times in a day. Trust me, I'll get sick of it pretty soon.

8. Reading up on ancient Rome (as usual). Here's an interesting fact: the punishment for killing one's father was to be drowned in a sack along with a viper, a dog and a rooster. Umm, I didn't find any source that states the reason behind this. Anyway, don't you think that ancient Romans are plain cute?

9. I have this sudden urge to go travelling in Ko Phi Phi. I think it's Leo's fault. It mustbe. He makes everything inexplicably hot. Even getting my ass roasted in the sun. Right, I see the irony.

10. I'm trying to read Chinese novels. Currently reading Killer by Giddens (九把刀) and let me tell you this: it's mind-bogglingly boring. While my favourtite English thrillers are all from the polices' point of view, this book is from the killer's point of view. I don't know why this book lulls me to sleep when the English thrillers scare the living hell out of me. Can't blame me, I tried. I swear.

Ode To Destiny

2011-06-03T07:05:00.000-07:00

I love you in the dark undercurrent
Of the sea.
In the ungovernable swirl of
Emotions, I kiss the tips
Of your whorled fingers.

I wake in a stupor, and
My soul is wet from weeping.
The cumbersome weight of love
Sits on my chest
And I couldn't breathe.

What we were meant to do
We have done. The shadows passed
Us once but in our hearts it was infinite.
We loved blindly; our lips will forever search
For the other. And we loved
In fire and in ice.

Water

2011-05-30T07:05:00.000-07:00

I wish I was born a mermaid
With hands white as ivory and lips
Running red.

I want scales on my body
Glittering and shimmering.
I want to store my sorrows in them
Bit by bit by bit until
It weighs me down
And flakes off.

I want to breathe water;
Fill my lungs with water.
I want to drown with water; I
Want to drown with
Out water.

I want to cry and drown in my tears.
I want to melt.
Into water.

The Death of Beksinski

2011-05-24T07:04:00.000-07:00

There were days when he could not get out of bed; when he wallowed in his week-old pyjamas, slept in grease and sweat. But who was there to witness his disgrace? He was alone in the studio, surrounded by paintings, sculptures, all by his own hands. They were never judgemental in their gaze - perhaps they were too lost in their own grief, in their own torment that they did not notice. Perhaps they adored him the way children adores their parents.

He wanted to hold a congregation to prove that the old cliché, that every cloud has a silver lining was total bullshit. His son had committed suicide a year after his wife's death. Could people have misinterpreted the message of this cliché? Could it be that the silver lining was originally meant as a strike of lightning that does further damage rather than the equivalent of a rainbow? He had so many questions, so many God damned questions that even God himself could not have answered.

When he painted he created life. He painted skeletons and death and gore but it pulsated with life. He felt the pain in his deformed figures, throbbing in sync with his heart and he wanted to tell the man in his painting, I hear you, I know how you feel.

Often he lost himself in his painting, in the furious stroke of brush, as if he was uncovering rather than painting. He was an archaeologist, removing centuries of dust and sand to reveal pulchritude. He was an anatomist, detailing each human bone with care. He was a murderer, tearing skin off his shrieking victims, watching the blood gush vibrantly red from the wounds.

Life is ironic this way. He was suicidal, manically depressed for most of the time in the duration of six years after his son's death. In the year 2005, he was found dead in his apartment. He was not a victim of suicide, rather, he was stabbed to death with 17 stab wounds.

If he had committed suicide before the incident, would he have died a far more pleasant death? Would he have died peacefully in his sleep after swallowing some pills? Did the thought perhaps flash across his mind as the murderer stabbed him, continuously for seventeen times? Or was he afraid that his blood would splatter across his paintings and ruin them?

It's funny how we sometimes reach our desired destination but with an alternate, less preferred mean of getting there. If he had known that, would he have wished to live instead? Or would he have complied with what fate has in store for him, seeing the pain only as a collateral cost in order to achieve the eternal peace? Was he certain that he would've rejoined his family after his death? Did he have any doubt that he could've been stranded in a void, utterly alone, bodiless, cold, cold to the very core? Or was he just tired of the world, tired of being lonely?

I have so many God damned questions, so many that God himself could not have answered.

My First Surprise Birthday Party

2011-05-23T07:03:00.000-07:00

But it's not mine. As you know, my birthday is on the 24th of July. *hint, hint*

Okay, so this is terribly long ago. I've meant to post it a while ago but somehow, I've forgotten about it. (As usual) I only remembered when I browsed through my mum's photo albums just now.

Anyway, for my mum's FORTIETH (haha, she's old now) birthday, we gave her a surprise party. Actually, her best friend and my cousin sister organised the whole thing since we (my father, my brother and I) don't know a thing about surprise parties 'cause we've never had them either. But we managed to keep quiet about the whole thing.

So on that day, we went to Daorae, the Korean barbecue restaurant in Crystal Point and blah and blah. I was kinda disappointed about having Korean food since I'm not mad for them and it's not really worth the price, but oh well, it's okay. My cousins and my mum and her friends think the owner is hot, so whatever.

Anyway, here are the pictures:

From left: Maternal grandfather, mum, her two best friends.

Note: See that little girl in white T and a purple scrunchy, second from the right? Yeah, she's the one I mentioned, you know, who lent me her Coach purse and who has Gucci boots.

It must be the smoke, I kept blinking when taking photos.

From left up: Cousin sister, Mum's friend, Mum
From left down: Friend, friend, Mum's sister (my aunt)

Cousin sister and her husband.

My favourite niece. (Even though I'm not supposed to be biased.)

From left: My brother, me, mum, dad. Have you noticed that I'm trying to choke him? Yeah well he's trying to snatch my phone from under the table. And my father's wearing nerd glasses cause his broke. I like him better in nerd glasses but he won't listen. =(

Dear Add Maths,

2011-05-14T07:02:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to deal with you.

I thought we're on good terms now. I thought that after all the effort I've made, all the trouble I've gone to, you've forgiven me. I thought you finally loved me back.

What have I done that is so egregious, so intolerable, so unforgivable that you have to treat me like this? Yes, I know I've been a complete asshole last year. But haven't I been making the utmost effort lately? Haven't I spend the most time with you this year?

Please, I can't take it if you hurt me again. My heart has suffered through countless lacerations that you have bestowed upon me. I will stay strong for you, but I don't know if I can survive any more of these torture. I don't know if I have the strength to continue. I will try my best to wait, patiently; to work my way up in hopes of gaining your affection.

So please, take pity on me. Please, deliver me.

Love, forever and always,
Sheryl.

Something To Laugh Off

2011-05-08T07:01:00.000-07:00

Alright, I swear this is the two of my favourite scenes in all the movies that I've watched to date. Seriously, I swear. All. Oh right, the movie. It's Inglourious Basterds. (Don't worry, I didn't misspell.)

Col. Hans Landa: [giddy] Ooh! That's a bingo!

[Aldo and Utivich stare at him in confusion]

Col. Hans Landa: Is that the way you say it? "That's a bingo"?

Lt. Aldo Raine: You just say "bingo".

Col. Hans Landa: Bingo! How fun!

Brad Pitt, which is the man in white tuxedo (in case you live under a stone), is an American spy. He disguises himself as an Italian, thinking that the Germans, which is the guy in uniform, would not understand Italian as he himself speaks horrible Italian. But it seems that the German speaks much, much better Italian than he does. In fact, the German speaks flawless Italian while Brad Pitt speaks with an obvious American accent. Absolutely egregious.Anyway, the German ends up teaching the supposed "Italians" Italian pronunciation.

In My Dark Sanctuary

2011-05-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

If only I could drown my sorrows
In the silence of the night;
So immense, so
Illimitable, that it looms ahead -
Deafening.

These are secrets that unveil themselves
In the sanctuary of the dark.
Uncoiling, incessantly disgorging
Vitriol. But I am snug and warm enough
In my blanket of duplicity.

My ears are numb with hollows
Ringing deep from earth's sepulchers.
And I feel the rhythm in my bones, of
Napoleon's dead soldiers marching
Through the infecund land of wintry Russia.

But the dead are unaware of the cold -
They died from it.

Waiting

2011-04-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

I feel like I'm waiting for something.

And I don't know what that is.

The only reason I'm not losing myself to insanity is that I'm clinging on to this fragile thread of hope that there is something better on the other side.

I don't know where the other side is. I don't know what I'm waiting for. And I don't know when that is.

Life is funny this way: it sucker punches you in the stomach, leaving you rolling in pain on the floor until someone nice comes along and you think that life is beautiful. Then the person sucker punches you and you roll on the floor in agony and the whole thing repeats itself.

I hate the way that nothing is ever certain in life. I hate that I can't see beyond the fog into the future. I'm used to being know-it-all and I can't stand not being able to know my own path. I don't like surprises. I hate the what-ifs in life. I hate the I-could'ves in life. I hate the why-didn't-Is in life. I hate the I-don't-know-and-never-would-until-it's-too-lates in life.

I hate being unable to hate life despite everything. And I hate not knowing what I'm waiting for or if it's even going to happen.

I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of being tired.

Fuyuko Matsui

2011-04-23T06:59:00.000-07:00

Why do I resort to the dark and macabre when I'm sad?

By the way, this is a warning: please do not look ahead of this sentence if you can't stand anything morbid and gruesome. I think you should stop here, Em.

Details:

Don't you think the pictures bring a sense of peace and serenity? They're so surreal and beautiful.

The Toska

2011-04-14T06:58:00.000-07:00

As keenly as I felt the toska

I know that you have gone.

The world has upturned

In the mingling of our arms

And you are long gone.

I wake to see the embroidered

Veil over my eyes. And feel -

Feel the placatory warmth of my own body.

My skin itches, swells in layers and I

Want to peel it all away.

I want to lie naked and skinless

Skinless and naked;

And weep and strike my fists upon my breasts:

In all the crudities of blood and flesh -

For isn't that what our love was?

To Die or Not To Die

2011-04-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

The dead loll in their behemothic sleep
Deep in the mouth of darkness
Pale limbs white against the marble stones
These bluish, bloated corpses

Lying, waiting -
For what?
For the angels of death who would
Wipe away the putrid fluid in their

Ascend to the Divine Garden?
Is death a concourse of mind - the
Darkest recess of consciousness
Or just a capacious stretch of endlessness?

- I don't know;
I haven't died before.

The Fear

2011-04-02T06:56:00.000-07:00

The fear is a caged beast, it hibernates at the best of times, warm and snug in its cozy den, buried deeply so that it is out of sight, and thus out of mind. At unfortunate times it wakes, ravenous and voracious, and its hunger seemed insatiable.

It opens its black mouth; putrid, malodorous. The fear swallows all. It swallows the fragile hope, who is desperately clinging for dear life to the edge of consciousness. It swallows warmth, laughter, glee and tramples over the rainbows, until they lie on the ground, barely alive, like butterflies with broken wings.

The world is dark again, for the beast has drowned the sun. The sun lies at the bottom of the ocean, grey and bloated, and the fish consume its flesh. At night, the beast drain the moon of her flux of silver and drink the elixir; emerging more pernicious and malevolent as ever. It is starving, and it cannot stop.

There are screams everywhere. The earth vibrates with the screaming. It subdues the fear for a while, but it immunes itself against it. It feeds on the screams, sucking and sucking the waves of voices until there is silence. I claw at my face like the man in Edvard Munch's Skrik, eyes wide as saucers, mouth a perfect 'O' and no sound issues forth. I am locked in time, screaming and scratching and forever silenced.

The beast does not feel remorseful; it does not feel the rage as it tear apart the lakes, nor does it feel the euphoria that is often acquainted with insanity, at the carnage it has committed. It is what it is – a beast. And it feels nothing.

All I Can Think About Is

2011-03-30T06:54:00.000-07:00

PROM.

P.S.I dread the post-prom days. Please don't let me sink back into depression.

The Art of Time Frittering

2011-03-24T06:52:00.002-07:00

Here's a sum up of what I did during this holiday:

Monday - Piano at 8.30 in the morning. So yeah, I had to get up at 7 to practice. I hope I didn't piss off any neighbours who are still sound asleep. After piano, relief relief! Watched TV till the afternoon. Went to my aunt's house and borrowed 3 black dresses for prom. (Yes! I finally got my prom dress.) She insisted on taking her Coach clutch purse too. Oh well, she did insist. I was given 5 to choose from. One of which is her 7-year-old daughter's. Ouch. Next time I know what to do: "Oh darling Ci, I'll give you all my Mars Bars and will you please lend me your Coach bag for a week? Really? Oh thank you so much." Btw, she has got Prada Kids' boots to go with that purse.

Tuesday - Faked or rather, half faked being ill - well, I did have flu and cough - and escaped choir practice. Went to Queensbay at 2 p.m. (She forgot that I'm supposed to be sick) Daren't venture into Forever21 for fear of losing my usual discipline because of self-pity ( poor dear, coughing and sneezing away. I'll buy you a pair of vintage boots to make you feel better, huh?) and end up broke. Went to Borders and Popular instead. Too exhilarated at my triumph of finally finding Julie and Julia after numerous failures and bought it. Watched TV the whole night.

Wednesday - Went to choir in the morning. Opened and closed my mouth for four hours as I still can't sing yet. Cleaned Shuen's hamster cage with Khai. Disgusting but thoroughly satisfying work. Practiced piano. Watched TV. Attempted to study - mission impossible. Went for piano. Had dinner with my big family again - aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews. Drafted my Commonwealth essay. Exhausted.

Thursday - Choir in the morning. Finally, I managed to sing very very softly. Just in case someone leaned in, heard my voice and passed out. Watched TV the whole afternoon. Attempted to study and it was a battle at Waterloo where I'm Napolean - totally defeated. Attempted to read up on Roman history - distracted by How I Met Your Mother. Watched TV the whole night. Read Julie and Julia just before going to bed.

Friday - Had my first McDonald's breakfast. Drank 3 cups of black coffee - my days of drinking sissy coffee are over. Cleaned hamster cage again. Khai got bitten; it was hilarious. Vacuumed and mopped the house. Changed the bedspreads. Colour coordinated my wardrobe. Dug out my mess and rearranged everything. Catalogued my books with dates. Hmm... Maybe I had too much caffeine. Anyways, going to Add Math tuition later. Will probably watch a movie at night.

Obsidian Lullaby

2011-03-20T06:53:00.000-07:00

Voicelessness, for
The rain is mute.
It sifts from the pregnant sky;
Heaves and heaves.

The imminent blackness,
Naked and unabashed
Swallows me whole - into
More black, where I cannot breathe.

Here, the cold does not touch me;
Here, in this black abyss, I
Build my nest on lullabies sung
By the blessed darkness.

Lungs blossom into vacuum
And yet I sleep;
Sleep, sleep.

My First School Post

2011-03-11T05:50:00.000-08:00

I think. Is it? Ahh well...

I've been in Heng Ee High School for five years (almost) now. And yes, it wasn't the most perfect school but somehow, I made some pretty good friends there and there's been the most pleasant (and crazy) memories in school. I love you guys and I know I'm a bit crazy and stressed out lately and I'm sorry about that. =)

This is my class, 5S2, and our 'beloved' BM teacher. I'm shocked to find that she's able to stretch her lips into a barely noticeable smile after teaching us for almost 3 months and never having smiled at us before. For a larger view please click here.

And this is us in our chemistry lab. Such fond memories in there. Talking and gossiping and copying homework and well, basically, doing everything except listening to the teacher. Hmmm, which is why I'm barely passing chem, I guess. Right, New Year Resolution: get better results in chem. And click here.

And that's Emily, Hui Min and I, doing our English oral. And Hui Min's going to rip her knickers off anytime to stop the train and save Emily. I'm the narrator of course, having the privilege to choose since I'm the script writer as well.

And the two antagonists of the drama: YianThin and Wenjuin. These two bad asses tied poor Emily to the railway track and threw away her flowers! *Gasp* Poor flowers.

This is the four of us, plus Wenjuin the photographer, eating cookies made by Emily in class. It was superb, Em. (Tad more jam would be divine though.) =)

Yianthin, Wenjuin and I in the school garden in front of the prefect's room.

The girls of my class. And the boys on the floor below us. Click here.

More picture on facebook in here and here. Again, I love you guys. =) A huge kiss on the cheek for making my life in high school bearable.

Vintage Box Purse

2011-03-04T05:50:00.000-08:00

Out of nowhere, came this sudden obsession for vintage box purses. Well, it's not entirely true. I've been wanting it since I saw one in Forever 21 a few months ago but I'm not at the obsessed level at that time yet. And lately I've been plagued by this obsession. It's especially weird since I'm having my exams and I should be thinking about Physics and stuff.

Well yeah, to my defense, I have been thinking about Chemistry. This morning, when I'm taking the exam and my brains are deciding whether to choose chloride ions or oxygen as the product released at the anode, it suddenly pops into my head that vintage box purses are an absolute must have. For me, at least. And I suddenly remembered how beautiful the one I saw in Forever21 was and I wanted to curse out loud for not buying it at the time and now it's sold out. What was I thinking??? But of course, I was thinking. That's the whole bloody problem. I think too much. Next time I see something that pretty I'm just gonna frickin' buy it.

Please, please, please, Forever 21, please order more.

Really,

2011-03-01T05:49:00.000-08:00

I'm Running Away

2011-02-27T05:46:00.000-08:00

Well maybe not to Tokyo... I don't really like Tokyo, it's too city-ish.

Where To Go?

2011-02-24T06:55:00.000-08:00

Happy Belated Birthday, CY

2011-02-15T06:51:00.000-08:00

River runs smooth and blue

Mists over the

Water, thick with fish

In silver scales.

And in the night they

Peel off their skin

So that it floats - glinting, glimmering

Like ersatz gems.

But the doppelgangers lurk behind

Shadows and wait

For their argentate scales -

Unbeknownst to them

As they dance in lollops

In a drunken haze.

P.S. Sorry, was busy yesterday.

And Still I Crave

2011-02-08T23:51:00.001-08:00

For my pizza. 3rd week running. =(

Dear god, I need pizza.

2011-02-08T23:40:00.001-08:00

8 Reasons I Love Tea

1. Tea makes the world a better place.

2. Drinking tea is bloody vintage.

3. Everything about it is pretty: the box, the packet, the teacups, even the tea leaves.

4. Tea helps us lose weight.

5. It de-stresses too.

6. It's healthy.

7. It tastes good.

8. There's just something elegant about tea.

Tumblr =)

2011-02-03T06:48:00.001-08:00

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bitznpieces:

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Café Scene, 1946
Artist: Raphael Soyer
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3 days ago

2011-01-30T06:43:00.000-08:00

How To Have A Lovely Day:

1. On the air-conditioner to the lowest, cover up with a huge comforter and wallow in bed.
2. Wear something that makes you feel good about yourself.
3. Read a book in the garden.
4. Smile and hum to yourself.
5. Drink tea.
6. Watch a good film.
7. Bake for yourself. Or someone else.
8. Listen to good music.
9. Dessert!!!
10. Hug someone.

=)

2011-01-27T06:43:00.000-08:00

Nature

PLEASE READ Note: And so for the first time ever in 5 years, my class was asked to write a poem by our English teacher. And even though the title is 'Nature', which I think totally ruins everything poetic, I still get to write a freakin' poem for school!!! =) Oh yes, would you guys please read and tell me how it is before I submit to the teacher? I want my first submitted poem to be perfect. (And yes, I did copy a few lines from my previous poems.)

The moon hangs herself
Silvery innards spill across the Stygian night;
While She dances, adroit limbs moving
Soundlessly among the woods.

She breathes - a silent hiss that
Snakes between the contours of the hills,
Where the nightingale laments his love
In a soporific lullaby, so dolefully that

She cried, tears falling like a string of pearls
Onto the flower petals and the gossamer silk of webs
As an ephemeral gem; only to
Disappear as the sun rises.

But then the wind worked up a tempest,
Scooping Her up in it, and our
Mother has gone with the amalgam of pine seeds
That would soon resurrect.

2011-01-26T06:42:00.000-08:00

It's Unnerving

how I can be addicted to so many things at all times.

I'm currently addicted to these:

1. GLEE (of all things)
2. Tumblr, still.
3. Cory Monteith
4. Quotes T-shirt
5. Marie Antoinette
6. Accessories
7. Shopping
8. Katie Melua
9. Pablo Neruda
10. Dresses

2011-01-24T06:42:00.000-08:00

PIZZA please

And yes, I was craving it since 2 weeks ago.