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In the morning.

2012-01-05T10:08:00.000+08:00

I am painfully aware of how much this place needs a revamp. But blogs seem to be dying out these days, and I don't think it's worth the effort keeping both this and Tumblr up. If you call sporadic posts once a month anything like maintaining this place ah-ha-ha-ha. Looks like Father Time has snatched away the last vestibule of childhood after all as I finally step into adulthood. What a concept, attaining maturity by closing off a blog. Sounds like something Barney from HIMYM would say. I am getting more and more convoluted. I should stop right now. Goodbye.

For good?

Text Wall ftw

2011-12-23T23:25:00.003+08:00

There are many sides to the story of your life. Some people want to settle down, get married, have a house and kids (they HAVE to go together). Others just want to live in the moment and savour the time that is now. Whatever kind of life you want to lead, I think it's important that you never forget your roots. Like, you know, all the mistakes you made that's made you who you are, all the experiences you've had that's opened your eyes to this world...? Bullshit like that? Well yeah, I mean, in a sense it's all true. I, for one, would probably be just coming home after a nice game of soccer, IF I had not injured my back. And then this post would not be created, and I would be a prospective writer with a significantly lower word count under my belt. See? The paths we've trod has inexplicably brought us to where we are today. Gold-paved, muddy, narrow or wide, we've all made it this far; time to look ahead at what's coming our way and prepare for it as best we can. Projected economic crisis in 2012; soothsayers claiming the world will end, naysayers rejecting that; Manchester City spending copious amounts in the next transfer window... belt up and hold on to something secure. Here goes another chapter of your life.

Like this, only I can't say

2011-11-14T23:03:00.002+08:00

You have everything you want in life, and then you have everything life is willing to offer to you. I just wonder sometimes if maybe what's in the offing really isn't just an indication of how much you're willing to go for it. But then I realise that some things really are beyond the reach of mortal man (or woman), and it gets me down just thinking about it. For instance, Helen of Troy could only ever have married Menelaus; not Archilles, not Hector, not anyone.

However, I am still of the firm belief that if you want something badly enough, not time nor tide nor man nor beast will be able to stand upright before you. Not many men of such stature exist, but should I meet one in my lifetime, I will be sure to mimic his resolve.

Be thankful for what life gives you. But never settle for anything less than what you deserve, or think you deserve at any rate. That would just be shortchanging yourself.

Soccer is more intricate than you'd think

2011-11-05T13:47:00.002+08:00

MRI scan results show that I will not, as initially feared, be forever confined to cheering while others (all 22 of them) chase a ball around trying to kick it into two different nets. Instead, I hope to one day have people cheering ME as I kick a ball into one of those nets, as I did in times before, so far gone that I cannot recall the exact feel any longer.

So I will work my body hard these few weeks. I will not be able to touch a ball during this period, as expected, but I can prepare for the day I can finally dance with a ball between my feet. Fitter = better stamina = longer training = more improvement = earlier return to the competitive pitch. I am straining at the seams in anticipation of that day. It is so tangible I can stick out my tongue and taste it. Well, almost.

For two years, I only ever had one wish. Now, it's about to be answered.

Along a path I met, one day.

2011-10-28T16:08:00.002+08:00

Unexpected declarations and unavoidable salutations. Encounter a friend and a very old acquantaince. Two different personalities, two different souls. One full of happiness, one full of woes. Commendations, famliar obstinence, nostalgia; hate it that I was right, but I told ya'.

Paying me heed, as you paid for your meals. I stand by my words, but you'd never wear heels. Wither and slight and glower and fright, our shoulders, they brush, but our hearts don't ignite.

Contradictions and contractions, two opposing factions. Be my saviour, my helper, my guiding light. Not my serpent, my joker, my bucket of pitch. But each of you exist, and I cannot help it, for who I was, am, is to be, will be a reflection of their harmony.

From discord and destruction breed new life and evolution. But oh how I wish for the yesterday...

Cheap shoes + free shipping + general laziness = computer nerd

2011-10-23T11:55:00.002+08:00

What is it about Saturday nights that absolutely compel me to stay up running meaningless errands online? I actually go out of my way to source out things to do, and if nothing presents itself, online shopping usually suffices. Ideal situation, this most certainly is not. Barring the most outrageous of tantrums, I doubt I'll be actually going to church until I get this sorted. I detect a lack of motivation towards that. I wonder why ;)

My new pair of shoes. Only another 5 more before I am suitably placated.

I hope this is a dream cos' I have plans tomorrow

2011-10-22T02:45:00.004+08:00

It's already 3am Saturday morning, and I've been watching One Piece since, oh, I don't know, 7??! But I still can't seem to get my fix. I desperately need more OP action, and seeing as how good Fanfic is in short supply, I briefly contemplated starting my own series. I then gave myself a good smack that brought my down from my lofty perches. No Marcus, you do not start on something that will suck people in, because you do not have the perseverance to follow through with it.

It was only after I began nodding at my sagely advice that I realised how pathetic my situation was. I am a unfocused incumbent fool who cannot accomplish anything but half-baked ideas. Ideas! Not even a damn prototype. The only talent I have, maybe, perhaps, is that I write better than most. Or not. I have no general direction, and that usually finds me meandering aimlessly around in circles, sorta like rowing only one oar in the middle of a huge lake. Well, you don't actually go around in perfect circles, but a idle spiral-ly float.

See. I did it again. The digression. Urg. I am so disgusted with myself right now. Only one way to fix that now. OP SLEEEEEP!!

Pffft, like I don't cry enough already

2011-10-16T18:18:00.003+08:00

Wall Street protests're picking up pace, what with supporters from all over the world rallying behind what initially began as an anti-capitalist demonstration, now become a hate-all-rich-people mass street brawl. Seen the stories in Rome recently? Even rubber bullets and tear gas won't stop the crowds. Apparently, the desolate are used to that kind of hardship.

On the bright side, Singapore can take heart that our widening income-gap problems aren't as severe (as yet). Or at least nobody's plucked up the balls to make a fuss. Gotta thank the internal security system for that. We've bred a generation of cowards we have.

Who cares about the Diadem now huhhh??

2011-10-15T17:23:00.002+08:00

Saturday's would be much more fun if I weren't locked up in my room like Rapunzel, just that in my case, I'd be nursing my lousy back instead of my luscious hair. And while we're on the topic of hair, I think the meagre crop sitting on top of my head needs a clipping. Again.

So here be I, sitting in front of my computer and trying to entertain myself with my new-found hobby of manga reading, specifically, D.Gray-man. Chapter 41 page 15 and chugging onward. I wonder if Rapunzel had her own comicbook collection. Probably not, but she'd probably have found means to entertain herself with this, appropriately set in the time period in which she (presumably) lived.

Before you click on that, please be warned that it's not very... decent. Consider yourself warned, and have a great weekend. What's left of it anyway.

Tuesday nights

2011-10-11T21:44:00.002+08:00

Back home for dinner/supper because of two conveniently placed medical appointments tomorrow, and I am so loving this freedom in the middle of the week. Not that I'm looking forward to the massive stack of paper waiting for my 'perusal' back in office as the hours gets closer to my return. Boy, how I wish all of that would just disappear into so much fairy dust.

But then I'd probably have type every damned last piece of it, so no thanks hurhur.

And my mom just made me a lovely cup of honey. Even though I now owe her a million hugs in exchange, I think she's the most awesome mom I could have. Plus, she got the short end of the stick. I mean, A MILLION HUGS?! She'll never get them all in ten lifetimes! Moral of story: never make a deal you can't claim in its

On another note, I am now a formidable force in Poker. Try me ;D

Of Alzheimer's and um, I forgot.

2011-10-05T16:44:00.002+08:00

In my life...
There're the

HIGHSPEEDCARCHASEEXPLOSIONBOOOMBOOOOMPOWWW

*breathe*

EPICFIGHTSCENEKOREANDRAMAM-M-M-MONSTERKILL-type of days....

...then there's today.

I liked today. It was slow, dead, and absolutely MY KIND OF LIVING!! (awww-yeahhhh)

And is currently number 7 in Youtube's Most Viewed: ONE PIECE ワンピース OP 15　We Go! ウィーゴー! 【HD 720p】

The smile on my face right now can cause traffic accidents.

In other news, this - Alzheimer's disease might be transmissible: US study - has raised questions on a lot scientists and doctors alike have considered fact. Previously considered a NON-TRANSMISSABLE disease, this opens a whole array of 'facts' up to debate. I don't claim to be an expert, but I'm guessing that, if a method to isolate all the affected cells can be devised, Alzheimer's CAN be cured with early detection. Of course, this is purely hypothetical, and from the lips of a non-medical student no less, but why not? The source is a tad dubious though, so stay tuned for updates (if I can be bothered).

And this is Marcus, signing out.

My mad rant against BBs

2011-10-04T19:38:00.000+08:00

My Blackberry is acting up, barely a week into use, and I am up to my knees in hair I have ripped from my head. I am not normally one to rage against the injustices of the world, primarily because I have not been dealt many, but if there's one thing in IT products I cannot tolerate, it is their lifespans, or lack thereof. I was this close to killing something this morning, when after reading 100% on my battery gauge prior to turning in, I gaze onto a pathetic 70% the next morning. Outrageous. Preposterous. ______ (insert another exclamatory expression here).

So here I am, watching my red LED light flash every second to notify me that I have bloody messages waiting for me, but I have to be patient and wait for the OS to install itself before I can access my messages. WHYYYYY??? (When I actually want to swear like an uncouth old man in a white singlet and shorts, sitting behind a large yellow newspaper and glaring at passers-by.)

Sigh. The things technology brings us sometimes fail to outweigh the things it takes away from us. At least those technologically deficient (yes I am aware that is semantically incorrect, but at this stage, I DO NOT CARE).

MY COMP HAS BEEN TRYING TO SYNC WITH MY BB FOR HALF A FUCKING HOUR ALREADY!! There I swore.

*feels better*

Sigh. And sighs again. What a waste of a good Tuesday night =(

Of things that used to hurt

2011-10-03T00:50:00.007+08:00

You see evidence of injury; I see a younger self.
My scars will tell you stories my lips will never speak of.
Along the tracks of veins along my arms lie memories
Of when my skin lay ravaged and raw and weeping.
Can you replace the marks before
You with moments and emotions and life-changing moments?
Envision with me; that's who I was.
The scars of my youth are the beads
Of sweat from the potters' brow
As we dance and weave and grow. I am a product of happiness,
Love, and graciousness; I have known the fires of suffering
And pain.
I do not lie, for I have nothing to gain.
When I emerge, it will be wrapped
In the splendour of glaze and flame;
No more will I be ashamed
Of this pain. (It's all the same)
Bequeath me your patience,
Watch me ignite,
Just like a phoenix, with wings
Of blinding light. Touch me still gently,
(It throbs on rain-soaked nights)
For I am the same.
Feel not these injuries as know them by name.
My name.

5cm? Or 5 months?

2011-10-01T23:56:00.002+08:00

I didn't expect to be posting here so quickly after that last post, but there you have it; one moment you're lying on your back staring at the wallpaper peel off, the next you're frantically scrambling to your feet as the roof comes down, along with the last decade of dust accumulated in your fake ceiling.

Some stuff happened today that got me wondering:
How long are you supposed to be 'in rehab' after a relationship crashes and burns? I always thought 6 months was a good length of time, but now I'm slowly coming to realise it doesn't have to take half as long as that. Once you truly truly decide it's over, it'll take maybe a day of moping before life resumes its dull trudging.

Then again, I can't speak for everyone, because people are wired different, and I could just be be exception to the norm. Now that I put it that way, I'm beginning to see how this could be true...

Which has got me back to wondering, how long should the cooling down period be? Actually having that down time is of course, undeniably important; everyone needs a recovery period. So, just to reiterate, in case you skipped right down to the last paragraph in hopes of gathering the gist of this post without actually having to read it, HOW LONG IS TOO LONG? HOW LONG IS TOO SHORT??

I hereby declare...

2011-10-01T13:33:00.002+08:00

I can't seem to get anything going here. Perhaps it's because my life lacks enough colour for me to restrain them down, tie them up, and pen them down into words you guys can read. By force of habit, I have tried to dramatise the less mundane parts of my life into barely serviceable posts, but I think that will have to stop, or I risk diluting my content with literary fodder.

Resolution: I'll only post when I have something that meets my blogging standards.

I realise this will mean even less activity than before, but it's all for the sake of improving the standards of online material. God knows there're enough daily here's-a-piece-of-my-boring-life bloggers out there. They don't need another one.

Peace.

Jewels are wroth a lot. More so her stories.

2011-09-29T17:22:00.001+08:00

Fan fiction is such a horribly enjoyable past time that I loathe myself terribly each time I succumb to this lovely addiction. Just this week, I flew all the way up to Chapter 33 of Jewel's The Life and Times. I loved every second of it, but am now deeply regretful of my actions as I realise I now have to twiddle my thumbs and wait for the next chapter to come out.

I am not an inherently patient person, and this will definitely try me to the very edge of my limits. Thankfully, I have formulated a strategy to speed up Jewel's writing processes - uncessant trolling.

So I'll just hurry her up every once in a while (like maybe every 10 minutes) and hope she gets the message. A few pictures of hanged men and blood-splattered walls should help with the persuading.

And viola, there you have it. My all-encompassing hobby for the next few weeks.

how to spoil my already imperfect eyesight further

2011-09-28T22:51:00.004+08:00

Posting from my BB is such a chore I don't understand why they bothered with mobile posting at all. Fat fingers, indiscriminate prodding, and tiny screens DO NOT make for a pleasant typing experience. Just bolding something takes ages. And you don't wanna try putting something in italics. I just did, and it took a whole minute to get it right. Honestly, why am I still awake now?

2011-09-24T23:22:00.002+08:00

Okay, enough moping around. Today's the day I flip the hair out of my eyes (figuratively speaking) and stare people down again. Not gonna waste my life like this, hoping for good things to come by when I'm not doing anything to attract them here. Life's dealt me lousy streak of hands, but that doesn't mean I can't bluff my way on. Watch out people, I'm back in town, and looking for a fight.

Now to just find someone who'll give it to me.

Music is less than 3

2011-09-24T00:07:00.003+08:00

I don't know what it is about midnight music (nice alliteration here), but somehow, everything just seems more... palpable at night. And then that Paramore track comes on and suddenly I have this lump in my throat that I swear isn't my Adam's apple. You hear Josh's voice do that countdown before the dual acoustic guitars come in, trailed closely by Hayley in all her ginger-haired glory. Yeah, I sure can feel the pressure closing in on my chest now. I wouldn't say constricting, because that would be hyperbolic, but tight would be just apt enough.

Bands change; people change; all you have at the end of the day is a metallic tang of adrenaline as a little bit of nostalgia unlocks a part of your brain you thought you'd lost forever. But forever don't last that long, which is why people change and drift away. If we had any concept of what forever was, I doubt we'd want it anyway. Because people change, and the beauty of memory is that it squeezes out some bits while colouring in others, creating a pastiche of reality and fiction just perfect for our palate.

Music is memory. Music is childhood. Music is a confidante. Music feels up the soul.

Sang the nightingale

2011-09-22T16:00:00.001+08:00

Many times in my not-so-distant life, I thought I could relate with at least one of those love songs they played on the radio. But it turns out I was wrong, as with a whole lot of other things. Things I have confined to the yellowed pages of my past.

The best songs are all about heartbreak and loss and misery.

In another universe...

2011-09-20T17:00:00.001+08:00

...I would be going to church regularly, dating some pretty chick on weekends, running injury-free on the pitch when I'm not, and writing part-time for some renowned publication as I work my way to Editor of said publication.

But the sad fact is I don't even know what publication I would be writing for, which in turn tells you how far from expectations I have fallen. Yes, fallen. Fallen awfully short. And nobody has the heart to either affirm that assessment of myself, or convince me otherwise.

I need a very stiff drink.

Just... leave me be would you?

2011-09-20T14:20:00.000+08:00

And all I could say to them both was a feeble

"...I'm sorry."

At the expense of my friend. Wait, I forgot. I totally hate him.

2011-09-19T10:52:00.002+08:00

YD: I think Mishal comes from Bangalore.
Me: Really? I thought he came from hell.
YD: Hmmm. Don't think so man.
Me: Is that right?
YD: Yeah, course that's just where he's headed.

*hi-fives all round*

The Island and Hypophrenia as Tumblr knows it

2011-09-17T19:11:00.000+08:00

"It's just a little bit of hypophrenia."

This is so ironic. I will proceed to explain why. For real this time.

'Hypophrenia' is taking Tumblr by storm, because a lot of sad little birds think they have finally found the word to express how they feel, ie the state of being sad without logical cause. Now I am in no way dissing emotionally unstable girls (EOGs), but I do believe they should Google-search an expression before making it a personal trademark, as a whole lot of them have been doing, especially if the expression in question happens to be a wholly foreign word to them.

'Hypophrenia' actually means mentally deficient, at least according to medical literature. I do not care to trace how or who actually began this mockery of EOGs, but I do think it was very well done.

So why is this ironic? Because EOGs are mostly sad about nothing, which suggests mental instability of some sort . Yet, while they recognise that they have this 'Hypophrenia' (according to their meaning of course) syndrome, they will refuse to accept that they are bordering on lunacy, choosing instead to believe that ALL people feel as they do, thus justifying their stance. So, by admitting to possessing 'Hypophrenia', they are actually misconceptualising the whole situation and essentially, shooting themselves in the foot. Just wait till they realise what they're saying.

On another note, I wrote this on Tumblr a really long time ago. I thought it rather cute that I did then. Have a read.

Once upon a time there was an island where all Emotions lived; happiness, sadness, knowledge, and all the others, including love.

One day it was announced to all of the feelings that the island was going to sink to the bottom of the ocean. So all the feelings prepared their boats to leave.

Love was the only one that stayed. She wanted to preserve the island paradise until the last possible moment. When the island was almost totally under love decided it was time to leave. She began looking for someone to ask for help. Just then Richness was passing by in a grand boat. Love asked, “Richness, Can I come with you on your boat?”

Richness answered, ” I’m sorry, but there is a lot of silver and gold on my boat and there would be no room for you anywhere.”

Then Love decided to ask Vanity for help who was passing in a beautiful vessel. Love cried out, “Vanity, help me please.”

“I can’t help you”, Vanity said, “You are all wet and will damage my beautiful boat.”

Next, Love saw Sadness passing by. Love said, ”Sadness, please let me go with you.”

Sadness answered, “Love, I’m sorry, but, I just need to be alone now.”

Then, Love saw Happiness. Love cried out, “Happiness, please take me with you.” But Happiness was so overjoyed that he didn’t hear Love calling to him.

Love began to cry. Then, she heard a voice say, “Come Love, I will take you with me.” It was a wrinkled and old ex-citizen in a small boat. Love felt so blessed and overjoyed that she boarded his wooden craft, forgetting completely to introduce herself. When they arrived on land the elder went on his way; it was only later that Love realized how much she owed the him for his kindness.

Love then found Knowledge and asked, “Who was it that helped me?”

“It was Time”, Knowledge answered.

“But why did Time help me when no one else would?”, Love asked.

Knowledge smiled and with deep wisdom and sincerity, answered, “Because only Time is capable of understanding how great Love is.”

What really happens on Friday night

2011-09-17T13:38:00.003+08:00

"Just... quiet will you?"

"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything."

"You know very well what I'm talking about, so don't pretend you don't see it. You do see it don't you?"

"See what? Oh. If you're talking about that white shadowy figure flitting across the corridor there, I think it's just the reflection of light off something. Nothing to worr-."

"Then how do you explain that it's coming yet closer when there are only walls on either side of it?"

"Fuck. Do you want to run?"

"Will that work? Because it looks lik-"

"Oh God, RUN!"

Hell yeah we ran. And even though we were both military classified as being unable to participate in any kind of physical activity, I'm sure an encounter with the supernatural was a valid reason for our temporarily forgetting that. In any case, I would face a court martial for malingering over a head-on collision with a spooky apparition any time.

Except...

"It's locked!"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfu-"

"Shut up and help me pull will you!"

"Okay I- OHMYGOG DID YOU SEE THAT?"

"Oh please oh please.."

"I think we should try the other staircase."

"What, now?"

"Yes let's GO!"

"Shouldn't we first like-"

"Hurry up or we'll get caught."

"Sorry. Sorry."

"I'll take the front and you watch the back. Got it?"

"Will that even hel-"

"Shhh."

They say that a ghost is at its most fearsome when it has vengeance on its mind. I, for one, did not want to test that out.

"I see it at the end of the corridor."

"Let's go bac-"

"You think we can make it? The door's only halfwa-"

"NO please, let's just head back to the bunk. It won't touch us there."

"You can't be sure about that. Okay, it looks like its going round the corner."

"Are you sure? How do we know that physics work for them the same as us? What if it sneaks up behin-"

"On three we go. One. Tw-"

"ARGG!!"

"Fuck! Wha-"

"Oh shit sorry, just the broom I was leani-"

"Three! Movemovemove!

If you encounter a ghost and hear its voice loudly, it means it still has a ways to go before getting you. IF, however, the voice is soft and beside your ear, start praying... hard.

"Oh shit, I never thought we'd make it. I'm so scared! What'll we do tonight? Can we report this to the-"

"We'd look like idiots. But who gives a damn. Same routine - me in front, you rearguard. Stay sharp. We're not ou-"

"FUCK! Is that it? Man, I don't want to die."

"I thought it could only roam the building! New plan. We go to the guardroom. We'll find people there. And lights. Hurry!"

"Our Father in Heav..."

We slept in the guardroom that night.

My life is like a song

2011-09-15T10:42:00.000+08:00

Okay, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, owing to the paint having almost all but dried by bedtime. I think the rain went a long way in soothing my [very very very frayed] nerves ALTHOUGH the paint was still bloody annoying. For instance, I woke this to a headache, which I can only attribute to the stench of thinner and half-dried paint. The fact that I had only 7/9 hours of sleep has nothing to do with it.

Something else happened last night because of the paint issue. It was a level of awkward SOOO high, I cannot express it in words. Truly.

So I was just playing my guitar like I do every night, before I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Looking up, I realised I had an audience. Thankfully, the pairs of eyes didn't belong to ghosts. Just some big shot regulars who stared at me from my open doorway, not unlike one of those cadets who've seen their sergeant do something for the first time and wonder how the hell he's gonna do that to pass the subsequent test. I swear, they stopped breathing when they realised they got caught. Oh yeah, I'm so fuckin' awesome HAHAHAHA!!!

I'm feeling generous this morning, so here ya go. My favourite cover of all time. Of ALL time.

Whomever invented the 'watching paint dry' expression had a dysfunctional nose

2011-09-14T17:50:00.005+08:00

I have just received news that my bunk (the one in camp; I don't call my room at home a bunk' -.-) has, as of today, been repainted, both outside and in. Now this would normally be nice news, because that would indicate the willingness of the SAF to upkeep its company quarters. But this isn't so peachy for me, for the simple reason that I WILL HAVE TO SLEEP WITH THE STENCH OF WET PAINT THE WHOLE DAMN NIGHT.

Which leads me to question WHY they commissioned the contractors to have them painted DURING A WEEKDAY, when people like me HAVE TO WORK, instead of the weekend, where the likelihood of an empty bunk would be much much higher. Well, maybe they had their reasons; they'd better be good ones. Not like anybody would bother explaining to little old me.

*indifferent shrugging of shoulders*

Now I'm hedging on whether I should sleep in tonight or wake extra early tomorrow to get to the office. Decisions.... decisions.... Making me feel too adult now.

Dust in the wind? Naw...

2011-09-14T14:43:00.001+08:00

Follow-up visit to the ENT specialist @ 10:10 to have my 'N' cavities checked this morning. Get whatever prognosis / diagnosis, haul ass, and be back home by lunch, then slack for a bit before heading to camp. At least, that was the initial Plan. By 11:45, still waiting in line* for my turn, I realised I needed a Plan B.

Well, Plan B didn't take much scheming. All that involved was this one reply:

Doctor: Do you need an MC?
Me: Yes please!

And here I am at home now, happily sipping from a glass of honeyed water and beaming to the world**. In the time it took for me to type that sentence, I somehow managed to sip all my honey dry. Swell.

So back to my bunk tonight. Stocked up on anti-mozzie equipment (see: last post) and ready to brave the demons of the night aka mosquitoes. I will have a greatly restful night tonight, because any disturbances AT ALL and I will rain down a hellstorm of pain ahahaha!!

I just realised I haven't yet tidied the mess I made yesterday. Why does this always happen to me??

*sigh*

Probably what I'll do when I get back:

* Metaphorically of course. They had seats for the long-suffering patients. And I should have known from how every one was taken that I should expect a significant delay.

**Once again, metaphorically speaking. I don't beam, much less at the world.

That buzz around your ear while you sleep

2011-09-13T21:00:00.001+08:00

"Goodbye may seem like forever, farewell is like the end
But in my heart is a memory, and there you'll always be."

When spoken in context, this is one of the nicest quotes I have ever come across. I was young and innocent and knew nothing about equity securities, but even then I recognised the gravity of those words. And of course you would actually have to have watched the movie or risk labelling me an emotional whore, of whom I can name a few.

So back to talking about my excessively average life. Yes, I bet you want to hear about how I single-handedly took apart my room hunting for a mosquito at 3am in the morning. Totally. But I shall start from the beginning. And there shall you find true meaning to the word 'annoying'.

So after getting through the last week all right, I decided to test the waters by loosening the monopoly strangle-grip I had over mosquito rations (see: my blood). That meant letting the mosquito coils burn until I went to bed, after which I would extinguish the flame. Now this seemed like a good idea at that time, considering how low I suddenly found myself on anti-mozzie equipment owing to excessive burning over the weekend. (Oh the joy of mosquito-free nights!!) This compromise seemed to be doing good until (you guessed it!) 3am. I'm sure the mosquito coils must have burned themselves out by then because I woke to the familiar sensation of A FUCKING ITCH ALONG MY ARMS, MY LEGSSSS, MY EVERYWHEREEEE!!!

I must've lost it then, because the next thing I knew, a red mist was clearing and I was standing in the middle of the room squinting in the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lights. I took stock of my room and realised turning everything upside down in the middle of the morning was not a very intelligent thing to do. Neither was letting the mosquito coils burn out, now that I look back, but they run each other close.

I shant bore you with how I shoved everything back to where I hoped they belonged, but I went back to bed at 3.30, now thoroughly awake, sweating freely, and still itching all over.

And in case you were wondering, yes, I started burning those awesome coils again ;)

The sum of my week is a pathetic 7

2011-09-09T21:55:00.001+08:00

I seldom second-guess myself, especially when it comes to unimportant decisions that have to be made, but at moments like this, I can't help but chase ______ around in my head. ______ runs and runs and never seems to need to catch its breath.

Like that mosquito that invaded my room two nights ago. And as with anything that refuses to budge after I've asked nicely (TWICE), I tend to go with the good ol' knee-jerk reaction. Like, literally, since I much prefer kicking to punching. Reach and all that to compensate for my lack of vertical qualities ahem. That following morning, I got my grumpy and tired self two packs of mosquito coil, Baygon, and Hershey's Dark Chocolate. The first two to combat all winged creatures, the last to combat my raging soul. I was subsequently left in peace.

It's not that I don't know how to be diplomatic. In fact, I rather excel at that; I just prefer violence as a much easier way of bridging the gap between me and whomever is stupid enough to aggravate my not-so-forgiving alternate ego. He has a black, black heart .___.

The next day, which was actually yesterday, YD and O asked me why I smelt of smoke. I told them it was the smell of victory. YD then asked me if I'd gone back to smoking, since R had dropped by that night before. I gave him the -.- face. And rightly deserved too. Smoking is for losers. It's like suicide, just in slow motion.

Then I realised that my mosquito coils weren't much better for that, what with all the chemicals floating around in the air just waiting to me inhaled. I resolved to identify and research on (see: Google) whatever synthesized material the mosquito coils released that night.

Apparently, it's a trade secret. Either that, or whatever's keeping mosquitos at bay isn't particularly good for the body. Weighing up the two sides, I finally resolved that:

Sleep > Potential Health Hazard

because

Sleep = Definite Health Benefit

+

Mosquitos = Demon Spawn from Hell

=

Mosquito Coil ftw.

It also doesn't help that I attract mosquitos better than Tae-Yeon attracts K-pop (gay-pop) guy fans. And don't get me started on K-pop. That's not even worth a blog post here.

Like only Dubstep can

2011-09-09T20:13:00.001+08:00

My love for music has always kept me on safe waters. At those moments where it seemed like I might venture out into the deep dark blue, some oceanic element has always found a way to stem my advance. And then I met Dubstep. Or more accurately, Dubstep came to me.

Oh my Gawddd!! The beats! The boom boom pow minus the BEPs! The filthy, heavy, sexy rumble of Dubstep! I loveee. Now if I can only just incorporate this sound into my music. I think a new rig is in order ;)

No tide or wind or current will pull me back into the lagoon. I realise now, the bounty of the ocean cannot be experienced tethered to the docks; the allure of beat and sound is too strong to ignore this time. And I'm readieee!!

NB: This is not my favourite Dubstep piece. It was just my first.

Feminism

2011-09-09T08:54:00.004+08:00

Throughout my Junior College life, I only ever had Women In Literature axioms thrown at me. But, like nigahiga, I'm not anti-equal rights at all; I do think feminists have a point in their concerted efforts for equal pay, equal rights, equal everything. And I think society should make a collective effort to make opportunities, incomes etc ALL EQUAL so that extremist feminists (see: all who make a living outta feeding off pro-women agendas) can shut up already. Haha.

On the flip side: what kind of humanity are we that we deny one part of our species priviledges another part takes for granted? This, of course, working both ways: 'gentleman', typically evoking the image of a cane-wielding Englishman opening a heavy wooden door for an uncomfortably dressed woman as she smiles in gratitude. (Gosh, how cliche!)

So many things wrong with this scenario if you want to stick with the
one sex > another argument.

Pro-women:
1. That dress?!! Nowadays, manifested in heels.
2. That pathetic helplessness! Stereotyping at its most dirty.
3. Soft-spoken being seen as becoming. I bet she smiled without showing her teeth.

Pro-men:
1. Gentlemen??! The 'ideal' muscled man opening a door? And women have been complaining about today's emaciated impression of beauty. Not to mention some guys I know are weaker than most girls I know.
2. That coat??! Is it just me, or does fashion play too big a part in today's world?

Pro-door:
1. Heavily-built and wooden at that! If it were human, ugly wouldn't even begin to describe it.

So you see, with the exception of the door, men and women really are facing lots of hindrances in liberising themselves. But this is impossible to avoid because they are MADE THAT WAY. Which brings me to nigahiga's conclusion: be yourself, or you'll just turn into a robot. However, I don't see anything wrong with chasing beauty.. ;)

Excuse me, but do you write away tears?

2011-09-07T13:54:00.000+08:00

To my knowledge there are only two salves to tears: dark liquor and time. Given proper time, anything can be diluted. This includes the brightest days of youth, so far gone that to look back you can only shake your head and wonder, 'How was I ever that happy?'. How was I ever a different person? But it can take the bad with the good, until you wonder what twisted and turned that other person in the first place.

I don’t know words to calm. I don’t know how to soothe or to remind you to be good. If I knew the magic of a comforting hand in the dark, I’d write it. Write it a thousand times until the page was black, all those words raw and weeping. But I don't. I'm just a poorly-fashioned imitation of a writer armed with the tools to create literary perfection, but the craftsmanship to extract barely a winking of it.

I once knew a girl whom I loved with all my heart. She meant the absolute world to me until she one day faded away from this world completely. To this day, I have but a faint inkling as to what she actually died from. Just another piece of her I'm missing. And I mean that both ways, because all I have to console me during dark and stormy nights are patchy memories sewn together into a badly fitted quilt.

It wasn't the sudden whirlwind of flame accompanied by chariots and horses of fire; it was the cloying and deceptively sweet-smelling decay of compost throughout the hot summer season, the wind coming in only at the last to scatter what was left. I periodically wish they had gone up in flames. These flashes are picking up pace.

If I could write away my tears, the first essay would definitely be to me.

Darksidedaily

2011-09-06T20:21:00.005+08:00

Microsoft Word > Open Office ANY day people. And you won't need to Google anything to know why because I WILL educate you.

*expression of utmost concentration*
*Sloth Monster sneaks up behind me*
*Sloth Monster ATTACKS!*

Marcus (100) VS [PRZ]Sloth Monster (3)

Marcus attacks!
1 damage to Sloth Monster!
Sloth Monster is paralyzed...
Sloth Monster cannot move!

Marcus attacks!
1 damage to Sloth Monster!
Sloth Monster is paralyzed...
Sloth Monster attacks!
1000000 damage to Marcus!

Marcus whited out...

Weeeell, maybe not after all xP

But since yours truly will not leave his readers twiddling their thumbs over nothing just because he cannot summon the motivation to do some research, I will provide everybody with a highly recommended blog post by Darksidedaily, an awesome photojournalist blogger who resides in Malaysia. Sorry, summoning all of my meagre technological expertise, that was all I could dredge up.

READREADREADREADREADREADREADREADREAD

PS: I like how that looks like DREAD *makes weird, spooky noises*

You want? Me too, me too...

2011-09-05T10:07:00.005+08:00

I want a _____-_____-______-_____-type love that _____ ______ _____ _____!!

*audience guffaws*

I couldn't help but join them, even though I'm sitting in the middle of the office where the air is so undisturbed that I can hear the hot water bubbling in the Toshiba water-boiler across the room. Thumbs up for extreme awkward.

Taboo Boo-Boos

2011-09-05T09:31:00.000+08:00

"Sex is like Pringles, once you start, you can't stop.
The exam paper is like a dick, when it gets hard, people get fucked.
Fate is like getting raped, you can't fight it, so learn to enjoy it.
Work is like group sex, 10 people are behind your ass to take your place.
Education is like hiring a prostitute, it needs both your money and your hard work.
Success is like masturbating, only your own hand can let you achieve it."

Now I am normally not this horridly ~~horny~~ CORNY, but I have to admit, it's hilarious =D

Hilarious, if only because the imagery is so directly applicable and um, apt? Not that I would know what group sex or hiring a hooker is like since I'VE NEVER TRIED IT (at least not yet), but that's where the imagination comes in doesn't it? So thank you brilliant Imagination for supplying me with that which I have no experience in. And with that, I think I have sufficiently explained myself such that you, the reader, have no misconceived notions about your favourite blogger.

*satisfied nod to self*

5 Centimeters Per Second

2011-09-04T17:48:00.001+08:00

I sit against the grimy window and stare out at the country flashing by my face. I rest my head on the palm of my hand and imagine what it must feel like to have this glass wall disappear, to feel the wind caress my cheeks the way you didn't. I envisage invisible hands cupping the pearls that have formed around the edges of my eyes and scooping them away into the night. The deepening night that could have been - should have been - my refuge from this lonely existence.

But I had boarded this train with a purpose; no more sorrow or sadness. I will not weep for those dying days any longer. They will not weep for me, and already the pages of the calendar are torn off and hastily crushed into paper balls. Together we will drift away, and if fate will have it, one day find ourselves back where we first started. Like that t-shirt said, 'If you love something, let go of it. If you are truly meant to be together, it will one day find its way back'. So off I go, looking back, but smiling at the relief of it all.

The road is long and winding, and the grinding of wheels on steel will eventually annoy me beyond all comprehension. But I will dig deep into my well of patience, shallow on the best of days, gritting my teeth, and plug in my headphones. There are always alternatives; it's just up to you whether you can see them.

So onward we chug, toward the bright city lights that twinkle in the distance. A little bit of hope and a little bit of risk that will bring me a little bit of happiness. This will more than suffice; I haven't felt true happiness in too long a time.

A hand waves in front of my face and I break out of my reverie. I startle as I realise the train has slowed to an almost-standstill while my mind wandered the heavens. Glancing up, a radiant face framed by a crown of hair smiles down at me as her voice tinkles out an apologetic 'Excuse me. We're here! I'm sorry, but could you help me with my bag? It's way up there and I cannot reach.'.

I smile to myself. Maybe this journey wasn't a mistake after all... ;)