. edditorials .

the final chapter.

2010-11-09T02:41:00.003+11:00

So I have decided to move on. It has been a good run really, and looking back I doubt I would have made it this far without it. Unfortunately, the affair with blogspot has come to an inevitable conclusion, and I have decided to move on to other pastures. Firstly, it became almost impossible to write when a little voice would constantly bug and remind me that everything I wrote could be scrutinized and misinterpreted by unwanted guests. Secondly, well, considering that tumblr has come up with a niftly little app that allows one to write or photoblog on the go, the decision was obviously really.

It seems a tad pompous and self-indulgent to say this, but maybe there might be a small group of you who have visited before to find out what has been happening with this guy's life and the strange place that is his mind poured out into text. Maybe despite being noticeably absent for almost a year, you haven't quite deleted this from memory. And if you're still there, you know how to find me, and I'll give you the tumblr address if you like. I doubt there'll be anyone left, but seems right to do right on the off chance, wouldn't it?

It has been an incredible journey with you guys at edditorials, but we'll meet again someday, down treasured troves and memory lanes. And hopefully, despite the naivety, I'll get to look back on these fondly with a smile.

To everyone who has been part of that journey, thank you.

Signing out,
E.

. arigato .

three sixty five.

2010-07-18T01:23:00.002+10:00

can you remember
what yesterday was like?
in sepia snapshots
there was the sun
and the salty tang of
calming ocean surf
or was it the river that
we sailed through in a
boat, and baits and fish and
secrets and snares.
we fall asleep to
the rhythmic lull of
absent-minded spooks and caricatures
of those behind the celluloid screen.
there was whatshisname and
him and her and them and they
and pretty pictures
candid and posed
to capture the little essences
of the days that were.

. arigato .

malaise.

2010-07-14T22:01:00.002+10:00

I have this condition. My mind goes into hyperdrive and I worry and fuss about every single detail. Occasionally there's a meltdown, and I lapse into a wormhole.

I'm suspecting this is not entirely normal.

. arigato .

meandering.

2010-07-07T20:27:00.004+10:00

Because I'm still nitpicking at a writing draft, I decided to get rid of the writer's block by scribbling down my to-watch list instead, the rule being that a) I must have it in my current possession, and b) it has to be a film which I haven't watched yet. I have this affinity to re-watch and re-read films and books, which explains why I'm still collecting DVDs and books.

And so, the winter list includes:

- Revolutionary Road (which I will try for tonight)
- Seven Pounds (as voted by IMDB)
- The Wrestler (worth having a look)
- The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (good recommendations)
- Lucky Number Slevin (favourable reviews)
- Eagle vs. Shark (for obvious reasons being a fan of Flight of the Conchords)
- JCVD (interesting concept)

And I still have a long list of rewatchables, but let's leave it at that.

. arigato .

tokyo rose.

2010-07-04T19:35:00.005+10:00

Overhead, the thatched roof splintered, flooding the hut with debris and blinding him momentarily. He drew a wheezing cough, lungs filled with dust and smoke. And irony was that he never smoked, but if the bullets didn't get him, lung cancer would. One way or another, he thought, they had all bought a one-way ticket to this wretched hellhole, and most of them would never be able to go home.

He rummaged through his muddy pockets. He found a ration bar and tore off the wrapper eagerly, not stopping to chew but almost swallowing it whole. It was dry and tasteless, but it would do. Not that he had much of an appetite anyway. Not after the morning raid.

He shuddered. The Japs were a ruthless tough bunch, and if you hesitated they would have dropped you without a second thought. But there was this one kid..

It was wrong. It shouldn't be this way.

His sweaty hands fingered the dial on the radio. Slowly it crackled into life. It was Orphan Ann, her voice soothing and ever nostalgic.

"And next, it's my all-time favourite that our listeners have requested for: "Love's Old Sweet Song". And for all you brave soldiers out in the cold and in pain, your wives and children miss you and send their wishes for you. Hopefully you'll be able to go home soon."

He wept quietly. It was Tokyo Rose alright. Tokyo Rose with her Nip accent and staccato pronounciation. Tokyo Rose with her choice of nostalgic songs that were meant to tug at the heartstrings of the remaining soldiers, trapped by the war and listening to the radio hoping to find escape. Tokyo Rose with her gentle propaganda and nudging them to give up the fighting, give up the war. Tokyo Rose, with her seductive truth but oh so painful truth, it's true Tokyo Rose, it's true oh Tokyo Rose won't you stop the pain won't you stop the pain won't you take me home...

He slept after awhile, with only his rifle for company.

. arigato .

for want of sleeping on the outside.

2010-06-29T00:01:00.003+10:00

I've been somewhat afraid to write really. The conscious reminder to be restrained bugs me. Then again, I've always had abit of an issue with authority. Not that I like being an anarchist, although there perhaps is an innate insidious thrill of being a rebel. No, it's more to do with the fact that I'm often opiniated, and tend to challenge the norm. Which may explain the current tendency to dream about leaving this path and learning to be a chef and opening a cafe in the near future.

It's difficult really, because there used to be so much therapy in this.

It has been a long day. A long, heavy day. And I wish I could unwind in a fashion I've grown comfortable with. Something along the lines of a warm bed, a familiar scent, r.kub, and the gradual lull to sleep. I miss that.

And these daunting emotions threaten to carry me off to somewhere altogether too close to home, and I'm almost tempted to run along, being the half-empty jake that I am. And it's hard not to, when the silence grows damp and echoes in the clatter of the keyboard. But I promised, and the words I sometimes forget seep in a little, and I hold on to these threads like there's no tomorrow.

If anything, you should know that I won't give up till it works.

. arigato .

today i write again.

2010-06-24T22:52:00.002+10:00

After admittedly too long, I've decided to pick up my pen again. Well okay, keyboard if you must.

It feels oddly unfamiliar, like the feeling of your arm after sleeping on it for too long.

I wouldn't say I have been taking a hiatus, cause it was somewhat unintentionally. Certainly there are spells of writers' block. And of course days where one is simply apathetic to writing because there just seems to be other things to do.

I daresay, however, that I have been somewhat a hermit for awhile. There are reasons behind it, and I could perhaps tell you about the cobwebs that have gathered, but there's no real need to turn back the pages, so I won't.

I think there is also a conscious need for restraint. Looking back, perhaps baring too much of oneself, even if in words and prose, might not have been the best thing. It certainly did serve it's purpose of therapy, but with it came ripple effects of not always good things, and feeding the emo (yes, this phrase is mine) can be rather addictive and self-indulgent. So I'll try.

And if I have to ask myself why I'm writing again, I know the answer used to be Because I have to, and sometimes, Because I want to.

But this time, it's because I can.

And that should mean something.

. arigato .

Perfect Italiano - Listening Face Ad

2010-05-31T21:57:00.000+10:00

. arigato .

elusive.

2010-05-04T21:48:00.002+10:00

we'll get there eventually.

. arigato .

for now.

2010-04-07T00:25:00.000+10:00

I can't write now.

Not yet.

But I will soon.

I miss you.

. arigato .

because there's nothing else.

2010-03-28T09:03:00.003+11:00

broken / lifehouse.

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts
I am damaged at best, like You've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain, there is healing
In Your name I find meaning
So I'm holding on, I'm holding on, I'm holding on
I'm barely holding on to You

The broken locks were a warning You got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see Your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain there is healing
In Your name I find meaning

So I'm holding on, I'm holding on, holding on
I'm barely holding on to You

I'm hanging on another day
Just to see what You throw my way
And I'm hanging on to the words You say
You said that I will be okay

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
with a broken heart that's still beating
In the pain(In the pain) there is healing
In Your name I find meaning

So I'm holding on, I'm holding on, I'm holding on (I'm still holding),
I'm barely holding on to You
I'm holding on, I'm holding on, I'm holding on,
I'm barely holdin' on to You

. arigato .

terms of endearment.

2010-03-25T23:43:00.002+11:00

bloop bloop.

. arigato .

keep sleeping.

2010-03-25T23:40:00.002+11:00

These are the days
where I wish
I could let those trains
pass by
and just stay right
here.

. arigato .

et tu.

2010-03-19T19:02:00.004+11:00

Are you still sure?
No, not really. Not anymore.
What's changed?
Well, I'm not too sure myself. Fear perhaps?
Fear of?
Of watching it fall like a stack of cards. Break like fragile things. Take your pick.
Must you always look at things this way?
Maybe. Sometimes. Mostly. But there are times you get a creeping feeling you can't shake.
And so you think you're part of a game?
Perhaps. It doesn't sound as nice when you put it that way. Or mature. Or sensible.
No, it never does when you sound it out.
Bugger.
So what is it that troubles you?
People. That you can hardly trust most of them anyway. And even the best ones can lie to you, and sometimes you'll never know till it's too late.
It sounds like you have some issues with trust.
Really? I always thought I just never got along well with the rest of them people.
You know, the simple truth is that things don't always work out. But life goes on.
Amen. And that's what I'm worried about. That I'll lose interest in going on. Doc, I just want things to be better.
I'm afraid that's not always possible.
Yes, I was afraid of that.

. arigato .

rule number two.

2010-03-19T01:35:00.003+11:00

(this is to remind you that you need to stop acting like a douchebag.)

*nods*

(don't be a tool.)

*nods again*

because you need to keep your word. as a man.

is it okay if i talk to myself?

. arigato .

almost.

2010-03-18T22:23:00.001+11:00

. arigato .

loops.

2010-03-18T22:16:00.002+11:00

:)

:\

:

:(

. arigato .

push/pull.

2010-03-18T00:12:00.004+11:00

i glimpsed a little into things and boy did it hurt.

stupid movies.

sigh.

. arigato .

stretch.

2010-03-14T21:09:00.002+11:00

I had a good chat with an old buddy yesterday en route to church. And strangely enough, in that few minutes, it did alot more good than the past few sundays have been.

See, sometimes you get to hear things straight from above, and sometimes He sends people who surprise you.

And what I've come to learn through these past few months, and it has been quite a steep learning curve, is this - we can keep whinging about how our life is tragic compared with others, ask questions why does everyone else seem to be having a better deal when we seem to be trudging through slippery mud and abrasive gravel.

And the thing is, if we're choosing to say we believe in Him and am committing to His plans, then He'll take what we mean seriously. Which means He'll put us in spots where maybe for our own vieww we aren't faring all that swell, but maybe in our situation we can do good for others, if we would but stop being selfish for a minute and look at how we can do something for someone else.

Truth is, things aren't roses most days, but yes, it has been sufficient. As promised.

Alot of patience to understand and accept, but yeah, I think I get the picture.

. arigato .

really.

2010-03-14T20:45:00.002+11:00

" ...the arbitrary configuration
of most things that
leave one rather
perturbed.

without tangible
reasons, save faith enough
to hang on to something
otherwise ridiculously elaborate
and confounding.

there is a treason
against humanity of
the devious kind, and we
know it's name far too well.

it's called
hope..."

-- from "My Name is Alcholic, And I Am a Human Being"

. arigato .

eye candy.

2010-03-14T13:28:00.003+11:00

Here's a set of re-imagined posters for Alfred Hitchcock I found from designer Las Marquez . I think it's pretty awesome. If only they could be bought.

. arigato .

fair.

2010-03-12T01:25:00.003+11:00

" So what if you catch me,
where would we land?
In somebody's life
for taking his hands
Sing to me hope as she's
thrown on the sand
All of your work
is rated again
Where to go? "

- Fair, Remy Zero

. arigato .

arbitrary answers.

2010-03-10T19:53:00.003+11:00

sometimes
the closest thing to crazy
is what keeps us
sane.

. arigato .

all we've got.

2010-03-10T02:09:00.001+11:00

. arigato .

city and colour.

2010-03-09T00:57:00.004+11:00

the city and colour
of windswept leaves scattered
flooded gutters and little rivers
walking in baby steps
across mud and puddles
i stop and stare
at grey monoliths
that see things for the way
they are, for they had years.

coffee is always
soy flat white with one sugar
no more, no less than
familiar, in a paper cup
that's always warm to touch.

we smile indoors, where it's
safe and secret, beneath
the quilted covers of
knitted whispers, we laugh
and we cry because there's nothing
left after this.

we are but
mere mortals that dream of
where angels fear to tread, but
really, are but murals and
gritty graffiti, and our thoughts are
but streaks of the city and colour.

. arigato .

whoops.

2010-03-04T00:49:00.007+11:00

there is
much to say
though probably
no point in doing so
anymore.

perhaps, looking back
i shouldn't have said anything
and maybe things
could be better that way.

but now,
left with more
of regrets and things
i rather forget.

'twas fun
and maybe, secretly,
i still wish it could have,
but.

so i guess i'll pack it in
and call it a day.
and words will
return some other time.

goodnight.

. arigato .

self-raising.

2010-03-02T21:55:00.004+11:00

She remembers:

It was probably a simple butter pound cake. Something straight out of a two-dollar recipe book. Not the chiffon one, nor the flan that she wished she had the talent for. It was her first foray into baking, and even this recipe seemed a tad ambitious for someone who occasionally made porridge instead of rice.

She spent the whole week preparing for it; memorizing the recipe, secretly gathering the ingredients so as to not to spoil the surprise, and a few practice runs (whereby disaster was simply too inadequate a word). When it was done, it was less than perfect. She attempted to dress it up with Hershey's chocolate sauce (alot of it). The castor sugar which fell like tiny snowflakes as she dusted it over improved it a fair bit. She was even thinking of spelling out his name, but she knew when to stop.

Came the day. She carried it ever so carefully to school, because there was no time to run home to get it. Through out the day her friends were nosily trying to peek at the wrapped box, teasing and asking too many questions. Thankfully, she anticipated this ("It's a gift from my mum to my aunt who has taken ill. No you can't see it. Yes it's none of your business."). Which was also a perfect excuse for her to sneak off early from her last class (no one took Moral Education very seriously, not even her teacher).

She took two buses to reach his office, and when she eventually got there, her heart almost burst with anticipation.

He wasn't in.

He

had promised.

He had promised he would be there waiting for her, waiting for the thing she said she wanted to give him, not revealing what the birthday present would be. He was usually unreliable, but this time he had promised and he had promised and he promised he would be there and the cake the cake that she had baked and put in so much effort to was going to waste and the cake and the promise he made to her and

He wasn't in.

The secretary felt bad for the girl in the school dress. After all, she was waiting by herself for at least two hours before her boss rang her to say he wasn't coming back to the office after all. She was going to inform him about the girl who was waiting for him, but the line had disconnected.

The secretary nervously cleared her throat and told her that her father wasn't going to come in, and if she'd like, she could take a---

Before she had a chance to finish, the girl had stormed off. What a rude pair, she thought as she clucked her tongue and went back to her magazine.

The girl took yet another two buses. But not towards her home. No, not yet.

She looked up the handwritten address from the tattered note. This should be his house. The boronias were a giveaway. She tried to peek through the windows, but the blinds were down. Good, she thought.

She unwrapped the box, discarding the neatly tied purple ribbon. It fluttered towards the potted plants. Next was the box. There were some drawings on it; doodles of colourful balloons and smiley faces on stick figures. That too was chucked aside.

She drew out her cake. The first one that she ever made. It sagged sadly from its extended journey. She held back a single tear that had threatened to escape. No, no more crying, she promised herself. And she would never make anything for anyone ever again.

She took aim, and threw the cake as hard as she could against the screen door. It was flung hard enough and disintegrated into sticky chunks all over the door. Most of it fell into a crumpled heap, but the chocolate sauce made for a good adhesive for some of them. She smiled bitterly at her handiwork.

Nor would she trust anyone ever again, she thought, gathering up her bag and walking back to the bus-stop.

. arigato .

open-ended.

2010-03-01T23:12:00.004+11:00

There's a frail tenderness to it. No, not quite healed over. You can still see where it cuts, still feel the burn, but there's a translucent area that says something's happening.

You've been dreaming for awhile. Sure, you've lied to yourself plenty. Believed you had your eyes wide open and above all that, but the morning light casts the same shadow next to the empty side of your bed.

And you tell yourself enough stories to make it feel better, or at least make it seem better. Sometimes they are true. Yet, every night you struggle to make sense of the fables. You walk, you run, you fly, you fall. There are days you think about getting up, and there are days you just lie there waiting for the clouds to blot it out. You're only ever so human.

So today, you tell yourself this is it. No mystery nor magic. Just things as it should be, as it always were. You get lucky sometimes, but the house always wins. But everyone plays on, because there's no sense leaving early.

So, like an old friend, you embrace it. To love and to lose. To live and to die. The only difference is where you get off at.

. arigato .

take this sinking boat and point it home.

2010-03-01T23:03:00.002+11:00

I suppose.

***

I'm finally getting over myself, if you must know. I've grown quite tired and weary of ruining everything, not if I have to live through it for awhile longer.

Everyone has their issues. Maybe I was looking for closure, but I guess it's more a nice idea than a necessity.

Time helps. Music helps alot. Having people who don't just nod and smile politely, but understand in a way better than tea and sympathy probably makes it much better. Problems don't go away, and sometimes scars are paper-thin, but you either get busy living or get busy dying. And frankly, I guess I'm not ready for the latter.

. arigato .

oh happy days.

2010-02-26T00:56:00.002+11:00

i suppose eventually
i'll get better
and forget where this was.

and move on
and get caught up with
new things.

because that's us.

i can pretend okay.

look, look:

"hehe."

":)"

i'm just not too good
with the secret eyes yet.

. arigato .

if this is you.

2010-02-26T00:53:00.002+11:00

at least,

give me a reason.

. arigato .

improvise.

2010-02-24T23:12:00.001+11:00

i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.

i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.

i will get better.
i will get better.
i will get better.

i will get better.
i will get better.

i will get better.

just kidding.

. arigato .

is it so bad after all.

2010-02-23T21:35:00.002+11:00

. arigato .

flicker.

2010-02-23T21:30:00.003+11:00

there's kinda too much to write. in any case, i doubt i have the liberty nor ability to scribble this one out. plus i doubt i can find solace this time.

but thanks for listening.

because you keep me alive, even if you don't realize it.

and p.s.: all else asides, i am really really happy for you :)

. arigato .

miltonesque.

2010-02-22T23:58:00.000+11:00

I think,

I just want to feel normal again.

. arigato .

dadaism.

2010-02-17T23:32:00.003+11:00

"The problem is, well, is that I'm mad I'm not over you."

"Yet." she hastily added.

He sipped quietly at his coffee, seemingly unperturbed by her rare admission.

"So, what exactly are you mad at?", he asked finally.

She thought hard.

"Well, firstly, I didn't even get a note. You know, the rejection letter. The one explaining why you're not good enough or the 'it's not you it's me' template. At least I deserve that, don't I? Secondly, well, maybe in part with the first, I never got to know why. Why, you know, it's a no. I was kinda left to rue and figure it out on my own."

She was fidgety, and started nibbling away at her thumbnail.

"And, and thirdly," she pointed out, "which was also the most difficult part of it all, was that you simply just...disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared?", he retorted. "I was still, you know, here."

"I mean, you would just leave conversations hanging. After all this time of being friends, I thought I could at least be afforded the courtesy of a more decent behaviour. After all, I wasn't being pushy or trying to make things difficult for you, was I?"

"You know I was trying to...tell you properly. I mean---"

"Look," she interrupted. "Point is, and what I'm trying to get at, is really this. That, you know, I just thought you could at least have said something. That's all. That I could have closure and move on."

"Because damn it, Evan, whether you realized it or not, I did love you abit. And I know we weren't meant to have hope and all, but I couldn't help it. I did hope, and well, it didn't work out and I died a little, okay? And I'm sad, and I'm disappointed and I'm mad at myself, because despite me trying to hate you for it, I'm still just trying to get over you, alright?"

The awkward silence hung in the air like a bad smell. Each was silent in their own thoughts.

"You could at least have said goodbye, you know." she finally said.

Evan shrugged.

***

Later on, when questioned, Evan was hardpressed to explain why he had coffee all over his brand new suit for his interview for the new managerial position.

. arigato .

something nice.

2010-02-17T23:18:00.003+11:00

say something nice, he urged. nobody likes a whinger.

well, he thought to himself, then don't bloody read it.

and that's why you have no friends, he says.

. arigato .

warning: contents are flammable.

2010-02-17T00:38:00.003+11:00

i am not liking myself lately.

easily agitated, coffee dependent, and sour moods.

home is
the only brief respite
and even then.

everyday
we play
the same
game that
nobody wants
a part of
anymore.

so so
w e a r y.

. arigato .

revenge.

2010-02-14T10:21:00.004+11:00

revenge - danger mouse feat. sparklehorse

Pain
I guess it's a matter of sensation
But somehow you have a way of avoiding it all
In my mind
I have shot you and stabbed you through your heart
I just didn't understand
The ricochet is the second part

'Cause you can't hide what you intend
It glows in the dark
Once you've sought
The path of revenge
There's no way to stop
And the more I try to hurt you
The more it hurts me

Strange
It seems like a character mutation
Though I have all the means of bringing you f---ers down
I can't make myself
To destroy upon command
Somehow forgiveness lets the evil make the laws

No you can't hide what you intend
It glows in the dark
Once we've become the thing we dread
There's no way to stop
And the more I try to hurt you
The more it backfires

The more that it backfires
The more that it backfires

. arigato .

overrated.

2010-02-09T23:41:00.002+11:00

"Listen, hope is a terrible thing. It makes the disappointment that much harder."

-- boy london, from how i learnt to stop loving.

. arigato .

cartharsis.

2010-02-09T23:01:00.004+11:00

The thing is,

life just isn't fair.

Sugar coat it if you want. Spin it a nicer angle, dress it up, add fairy dust and colour it however you want. But the truth is life isn't. Period.

Sure there are things you can't quantify. Fair enough. But for those that you can, you know not everyone gets the same treatment.

Nice guys finish last. People who are jerks and heartless climb on top of the pile and crap all over the rest. The rat race is real and a part of daily life. Poverty, famine, disease and disasters are rife and rampant. If you're born into that situation, you got the short end of the deal.

Some people ask, if there is a God, why is there pain and injustice in the world?

I think the answer is actually quite simple. It is because of choice. Because humans want the freedom to choose. Thus the presence of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the fruit. And because our tragic hero chose otherwise, the consequences follow through. Is it fair? No it's not. But Adam had first dibs on choice, so unfortunately we got the aftermath. Would things be different if we were there? I doubt so. I think all of us would pick the fruit. Why do I presume? Because Adam did, and we are all essentially the same ideas.

Do you have to agree with what I'm saying? No you don't. But you have to let me finish anyway. Heh.

When people notice you're down in the dumps, they tend to take on two common reactions. The first - and my personal non-fondness of this is somewhat unrivalled - is the don't worry and everything is going to be alright/get better approach. Firstly, worry is not always something you can not do. Especially if it concerns you. Secondly, my dear friend, not everything turns out or gets better in the end. Life is not very disney-esque, so happy endings are particularly few and far between.

Second is the look on the bright side / at least you're not (insert worser situation). The trouble with this mechanism is that it actually doesn't make you feel any better. No really. It's true that your relationship problems or financial situation will probably compare nowhere near to what the people in Haiti or Iraq go through. But when you're dumped, or broke, their misery doesn't solve your problems either. In fact it makes you feel worse because you start questioning why our world is a massive fail. And in fact, if you actually feel better in comparison, then shame on you for delighting in their misery, you punk!

See, the thing with grace is that it is freely given. So what that means is sometimes others get better deals in life because they do. Period. No really. Some people are richer because well, they had richer parents, some who work very hard to be in that affluent position. Some people can be real douchebags, yet go out with awesome guys and girls because well, I suppose awesome guys and girls sometimes make wrong choices.

Point is, cest la vie and all that asides, this is the way it is.

And I lament, because I am terribly t i r e d of this answer. I read the news everyday and I get more questions and feel angry that this world is that messed up. My life isn't so bad, but my mum's one is kinda difficult, and I can't do anything for her. I've learnt that the workplace can be ruthless if need be, and it sucks to be the scapegoat, but everyone wants one. And I think you probably don't need me to get started on relationships and all that. Perhaps the simple truth is either I'm really unlucky or I just suck at it. I don't know and at this point, I don't really care much either way anymore.

I'm tired of feeling sad everyday. Maybe I'm bitter and disappointed too, but mostly just sad. I'm tired of it being the only emotion I feel. But I won't consider off-ing myself because it doesn't solve anything nor make me feel better, and would probably cause alot of inconvenience all around. Therefore, I mope and I lament and I withdraw from people and I suffer and I listen to sad angry music.

And I write.

So there.

. arigato .

ink.

2010-02-09T22:53:00.003+11:00

I tend to try not to write stuff when I feel like this. Mostly because I end up spilling stuff I don't want to. And the questions and the polite shrugs I have to deal with.

Some people like retail therapy. The temporary buzz of buying something to distract them from what bugs them. I kinda indulge in that in a way. I notice there are (too) many times I would wander around JB Hifi, even if a) I have absolutely nothing to buy (most because I already bought whatever I want up to now), or b) because I was there just the day before.

Some people need to pour out their insides to others. Sometimes I do that, though I'm not particular fond nor comfortable with sharing what I really feel or think really. I'm more the keeptomyself type.

Some people drink. I'm not too fond of hard liquor, plus drinking alone kinda makes me feel like a bigger loser, so not my thing either.

Me, I write. It's my therapy. Sometimes I still can't quite exorcise all the demons. I realize writing in private doesn't quite work either. I'm better with weaving thoughts into fiction really.

So suffer me and listen. Or better yet, look away.

This one's for me.

. arigato .

flat-lining.

2010-02-04T23:55:00.003+11:00

Five minutes to Friday.

Two days of a short weekend.

Then five whole days of the same.

Work feels like going to war lately. I feel the amount of stress and pressure we all get put under has been an enormous strain, and has probably aged us a few years. I'm really not keen on office politics. I do my work well, nevermind the fact it goes underappreciated. But when we are treated badly, my natural instinct to protect my team and our rights override any sensibilities to abide by their unreasonable ethics.

Every evening home now is a blessed respite from the daily strife.

I am just. tired.

And of course, some would try to convince me it gets better, and good things will come my way. And I nod and smile politely.

Because it all feels kinda numb and too much disappointment has caused this heart to go empty and grow cold.

Besides, no one promised everyone would be happy. Debate if you would, but then think about the word grace carefully. Not that I'm bitter, it's just that it would be hubris to fancy that someone owes you a good life.

But honestly, I'm just plain tired. As in, I need to sleep for awhile tired.

Goodnight and good luck, ladies.

. arigato .

about a girl.

2010-02-02T20:18:00.002+11:00

Around the corner,
there's this quiet girl

She's no fair maiden
No, most guys would not be smittened,

by the fact she's neither cute nor demure
She lacks that charming allure

No extraordinary beauty
She's perfectly ordinary
But I think she's simply
meant for me.

Her eyes are a little too tiny
And she might laugh even if it isn't funny

She doesn't sing nor dance that well
Nor any special talents you can tell

She doesn't have cherry lips
but she has child-bearing hips

No extraordinary beauty
She's perfectly ordinary
But I think she's simply
meant for me.

Her hair's not long or flowing
And on her legs you'll might find them growing

She gets sensitive over minor provocations
But we have pretty nice conversations

She doesn't have a perfect smile
But with me she'd walk a mile

No extraordinary beauty
She's perfectly ordinary
But I think she's simply
meant for me.

. arigato .

iRawesome.

2010-01-31T18:20:00.003+11:00

I have to admit something. I have sold out. Yes, I finally own an Apple product. No it's not the iPhone (though that's not exactly not on the radar...). My mp3 player was busted (see me trying to justify myself there?), therefore after reviewing the scant digital music player offerings of various electronics store, I finally decided to get myself an iPod Touch.

I got to say, despite keeping to my stand that PC is still better than Mac, I think I've been missing out on the app store this whole time. Those of you who only have the Nano are missing out big time...

But I've found a new hobby. The iTunes store is now my favourite hangout. Why? Because I get to find new not-so-mainstream music. It's awesome. Especially the 'listeners also bought' bit which lets you browse for similar music.

kthxbye.

. arigato .

#1. saturdays.

2010-01-30T11:58:00.004+11:00

I finally got my first draft out. One of thirteen short stories I intend to write.

Here's one I wrote, inspired by someone's childhood. This one's dedicated to MK, Da and the good lawyer.

***

Saturdays.

“Mother knows best! Stop being such a silly girl!"

She stared defiantly at her mother, who returned her gaze with equal measure of anger. You don’t always know everything, were the thoughts that came to her mind, but she knew better than to stoke her mother’s temper, so she bit her lip instead.

“Aye, Ah Mei! He’s not going to come today, just like all the other times. Just go and eat your lunch okay? The food’s getting colder by the minute...” her mother nagged as she trailed off back into the kitchen.

Mei Lan’s stomach grumbled in agreement. But she refused to be swayed by her mother’s piercing words. He would turn up today. He promised, she thought fiercely to herself, although the voice was more hesitant this time. No one could be so cruel.

She glanced over to the hall, where her sister Xiu Lan had already taken off the pretty blue ribbon from her wavy hair and started halfway into Pocahontas. She got mildly irritated. What if he arrived now, and then she would have to do up her sister’s hair again, which would take away more precious time spent together with their father.

“Xiu Lan! Why did you take your ribbon off! Daddy could be here any minute now!” she reprimanded.

Her sister turned her head. It was the same sceptical look her mother wore, with a tinge of childish boredom. Without replying, she turned back to her cartoon.

She supposed she couldn’t blame her sister for feeling the way she did. After all, she was probably too young to understand. Her father was a busy man, and maybe there was an important meeting he had to attend, or perhaps he was delayed by something that cropped up at work.

It’s Saturday, the condescending voice in her head chimed.

“Well, sometimes Daddy works on weekends...” she muttered to herself stubbornly.

Today, Mei Lan had woken up at 8am, because she thought her father might arrive earlier today to make up for missing last week. She took out her favourite yellow dress that her father bought for her birthday. It had neat little flowers adorning the seams of the sides, and a pleated skirt with frills at the end. Her mother told her she was overdressing for nothing, but Mei Lan had a mind of her own.

She woke up her grumpy sister later, and had to do her hair up amidst her constant grumbling. They were all ready by 9am. Her mother had prepared the usual chicken porridge for breakfast. She had declined because she didn’t want to spoil her appetite in case her father had plans for that too, and got peeved when her sister abandoned her rebellion and tucked heartily away into the meal.

It was 12.30pm now.

She sat alone by the door, the sunlight bathing her in its inviting warmth. Her face was pressed against the cool metal grille of the gate. She looked out into the field across the street. She could see children playing at the playground, energetically bounding across the monkey bars and whizzing down slides. They were accompanied by their parents. She checked the long stretch of the road to look for a white sedan turning into their street. No one did.

She was hungry, but above all, she was really disappointed. And she knew she wasn’t the only one. Despite her nonchalant demeanour, Xiu Lan had turned her head to the door every time she heard a car pulling in to a house. Mei Lan started picking at the frills of her skirt. She didn’t understand. Didn’t her father want to see them? Didn’t he miss them?

It certainly wasn’t the first time he didn’t turn up for an appointment, so it wasn’t all that surprising. But it had already been more than a month since he last came. There was last week, which he didn’t call. And the fortnight he said he was away on a business trip. Each time the rejection came through the bitter words of her mother, never on the phone to her directly. Each time she had to put on a brave face, and pretended like she wasn’t hurt.

Last week when he didn’t show up, she overheard her mother crying and shouting into the phone. Don’t you care about your daughters at all, you wretch?! Do you have any idea how many Saturdays they have waited by the door for you? Is that wench of yours that important?, her mother had screamed. Mei Lan had to run into Xiu Lan’s room because she didn’t want to hear anymore. She sobbed into Xiu Lan’s pillows for awhile, but pretended it was because Mother had scolded her. It was her own painful secret to bear.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister tugging at her sleeve. She turned her head.
“Mei, Mother wants you to eat your porridge...she said Daddy’s not going to come already...” Xiu Lan pleaded gently.

She looked out into the far end once more. A man peddling a bicycle was delivering the plastic packets of milk to the houses. He was riding in the middle of the street.

“It’s okay, Xiu. I’m not hungry. You can have mine and tell Mother I finished it.”

Her sister obeyed quietly and went into the kitchen. She noticed she had already changed out of her dress.

Mei Lan continued looking out into the street. A single tear welled up, and streamed down her right cheek and fell into the same spot of the metal grille. It would rust one day.

. arigato .

therapy.

2010-01-27T20:07:00.001+11:00

I think I shall act on the good lawyer's advice, and turn to writing therapy.

. arigato .

if it makes you happy.

2010-01-26T23:58:00.002+11:00

I spent the day trying to figure out if my symptoms are biochemical, psychological, or emotional. I get pretty tired of being like this, and it makes me weary.

I need to increase my seratonin and dopamine levels. That way I have one less excuse.

She tells me we all have our own battles to fight, because we are fashioned in a way only He understands.

I've been wondering and I think character-building, albeit very hard and sometimes downright unfathomable, sometimes isn't always in the context of preparing you for bigger things. I think sometimes life just plain sucks, and you can either choose to be weak and give up, or you carry on despite the struggles because well, quitting isn't an option.

I watched The Pursuit of Happyness today. And it made me think that personal happiness is never an attainable goal. There are too many kinks involved, and it remains forever elusive because it's a chasm never meant to be fulfilled until you physically expire and we move on to what lies ahead.

But while that is a pipe-dream we cannot attain, we can at least make it easier for some others. That when we face enormous difficulties, we can be beaten down and feel like there's nothing there for us, but if we have someone to fight for, someone's happiness at stake, then the strength to pursue someone else's happiness carries us through.

And I guess that's more important and precious than mine.

To live for others. That's what I'll like to aspire for.

. arigato .

white flag.

2010-01-26T20:15:00.000+11:00

. arigato .

quit.

2010-01-26T02:52:00.002+11:00

I remember a time when personality tests were all in the rage. I remember how a bunch of us took the test to figure out what types we were, because it was nice to have your identity spelled out in a quiz.

I used to be sanguine choleric, despite taking the tests many times, because I was quite convinced I had a melancholic streak. This was before emo was cool, and before I realized I was semi-emo.

On a whim, I decided to take the test again today.

I'm finally vindicated. Melancholic choleric it was.

I also decided to take a depression test.

Turns out I scored quite high on it.

At this moment, I'm really tired of living my life. Not in the wanting to end it kind of way. But just tired of disappointments really. I guess tomorrow I might feel better. Just that for now, there is an undeniable sense of loneliness and desire to secede from everything for awhile.

. arigato .

toxic.

2010-01-26T01:17:00.002+11:00

" Don't give me hope, because I'm going to lose it anyway. And it kinda hurts more. "

. arigato .

minutes to midnight.

2010-01-25T22:46:00.002+11:00

Tomorrow's Australia Day. Tonight, I get fever symptoms and do overtime. Oh joy.

On hindsight (remember the thing I was whinging about?), the recent turn of events have led me to think that perhaps there might a small possibility that it was all allowed to be orchestrated by Him. Today as I returned home, I wondered if perhaps I was standing on the brink of destiny. Okay so maybe that sounds a tad overdramatic, but if you think about it, does every little decision we make not shape what is eventual?

Initially, my motivation for moving on was more or less spurred by the non-inclination to remain in an environment which will only degrade over time, to seek greener pastures so called. Yet, I wonder if perhaps this might not be my opportunity to pursue that which I often dream about, but never quite had the will to do something about?

It's easy to get comfortable and familiar with the same five days-a-week routine. Because it's stable and because you get a fixed income. And sometimes you're afraid to move because you second-guess the risks involved. What if it never gets better? What if you don't make it?

But I guess we'll never know until we try.

And this time, I fully intend to, if He be willing.

. arigato .

splinter.

2010-01-23T10:19:00.003+11:00

Everyday, I read the news.

Everyday, it seems to be worse.

And every day, I get a little more depressed than yesterday.

. arigato .

thirty seconds to meltdown

2010-01-23T09:55:00.002+11:00

It has been an awful week.

Every once in awhile, you might get a nightmare when you're sleeping, only when you bolt awake at last, you sigh with tremendous relief, because you realize it wasn't real and was all a dream.

This was one of those where you realize it was real after all.

It seemed as if the bad news were to keep coming after all. The silence broke, and I managed to get an inch closer to my free lunch.

My aunt passed away from stage 4 cancer on Thursday. I had to smile to my manager as he made a joke.

On Friday, someone from the management level decided to push things around, because in a corporate world, every once in awhile there's a need to look busy so that you can play the blame game when things don't work out. Therefore my team was targeted. The culprit was condescending in their approach, and made to screw up our system and meet impossible demands. I found a new level of workplace rage that I never knew I reserved. When you lead a team, and someone talks down to your team member, if it was any other scenario, you gave them the what for.

It came to the point I almost quit that day. Not as a petulant act, but when you do not have to autonomy to work with dignity and respect, sometimes even things like job stability and pay seem to pale in comparison. I was born a rebel, and unfortunately I would choose sticking it to the man rather than rolling over and complying meekly.

And the culmulation of the week made me sit down and reconsider my life. Suddenly leaving my job doesn't seem too bad an idea. I would travel somewhere else. And maybe not just for fun. Maybe just to spend some time doing volunteer work. Tending to other people's needs instead of mine. Maybe I'll learn to be less selfish and concerned about myself. Maybe I'll get to do some good with my life.

If only hindsight was a perspective I could afford right now.

. arigato .

touche.

2010-01-21T22:12:00.001+11:00

Perspective

is often not something afforded
when required the most

rather,

we're all used to regretting
on hindsight.

. arigato .

yes but no but maybe yes but no.

2010-01-20T23:45:00.002+11:00

i never thought that finding out whether i'm going to get free lunches or not would be such a terrible feeling.

. arigato .

day zero.

2010-01-20T00:15:00.002+11:00

A lot of things can happen in a month.

A lot of things can happen in a few days.

And sometimes, like today, a lot can happen in a day as well.

I think I've spent the most of the past week moping and feeling very sorry for myself. It's a horrible ordeal, and I wish I wouldn't have to go through that again. But inevitably, I like playing the sorry tragic hero, so I wouldn't quite count on it.

Today was pretty difficult as well. The lack of sleep and emotional stability coupled together with stress and copious amounts of work doesn't really go well. I think I pretty much annoyed the heck out of my colleague, trying to drag myself through the day. The only good to come out of it, for pity's sake, is that it's always nice to know someone cares.

Curiously enough, it took a hot meal after coffee fatigue, a nap, and a viewing of Star Trek the film to wake me out of the doldrums. I'm not even remotely a Trekkie, but I guess it did remind me that heroes are that other guy who chooses to do what they have to do in the face of adversity.

Life doesn't always turn out the way you want it to, and it certainly doesn't owe you a favour to at least be decent sometimes. But things don't always work out and you can either stay stuck and quit, or just keep trying. I've come to accept that perhaps it's better to live it knowing it's not for me, but if I could make some people happier, I'm half better off than most.

I may not know the truth of the matter, but I'm kinda expecting the word to slip out anyway. And it's okay. Things happen, and I'm not bitter nor am I going to stay disappointed by it. We'll pretend it never happened, and I'll pretend it's okay, and eventually we can stop pretending after we get used to it.

And I guess turning to work may not be the ideal solution, but it helps. And I've come to acknowledge that I do like my job. And even if I don't earn as much as the high-flyers, nor is it particularly glamorous, I take comfort in knowing that part of what I do may determine someone's better future. I like knowing that I am helping some people make important decisions for their lives, and I take pride in knowing that I have worked hard to be where I am, and considering how long I've been here and my age, I dare say I've done well. And because my team and alot of other people depend on me, it is a nice feeling to know that you are important in a way.

We'll be okay one day.

. arigato .

what if you - joshua radin.

2010-01-18T23:25:00.003+11:00

what if you
could wish me away
what if you
spoke those words today

i wonder if you'd miss me
when I'm gone
it's come to this, release me
i'll leave before the dawn

but for tonight
i'll stay here with you
yes, for tonight
i'll lay here with you

but when the sun
hits your eyes
through your window
there'll be nothing you can do

what if you
could hear this song
what if I
felt like I belong

i might not be leaving
oh so soon
began the night believing
i loved you in the moonlight

so, for tonight
i'll stay here with you
yes, for tonight
i'll lay here with you

but when the sun
hits your eyes
through your window
there'll be nothing you can do

i could've treated you better
better than this
well, I'm gone, this song's your letter
can't stay in one place

so, for tonight
i'll stay here with you
yes, for tonight
i'll lay here with you

but when the sun
hits your eyes
through your window
there'll be nothing you can do

. arigato .

only one way to know.

2010-01-18T21:22:00.003+11:00

Okay so it goes like this:

- if it's a, then i would know i'm meant to wake up.

- if it's b, then i would know it's not meant for me.

- if it's b and c, then i would know i'm meant to work harder.

Get it?

It's not rocket science.

But you'd just have to learn to deal with the fallout later, naturally.

As they say, what doesn't kill you,

makes you more bitter.

Heh.

. arigato .

night.

2010-01-17T23:11:00.004+11:00

the perpetual
motion city soundtrack
of fast cars and neon lights
draw us beneath
the sillhouettes of
skyscrapers and boulevards.

the night
the flashing light
the city that never sleeps
the people that never weep
and feel more alone
out on their own
in the big nowhere.

little lives
in little apartments
dreaming bigger dreams
than the blueprints allow.
they stare out their windows
from their high places
down below
wishing they were anywhere else
but here.

and there are nights
where the long fall
doesn't seem so bad
after all.

. arigato .

everything but.

2010-01-17T22:54:00.000+11:00

. arigato .

euphemisms.

2010-01-16T22:08:00.004+11:00

remember to breathe - Dashboard Confessional

She fixes her lips they
always look perfect

Never a smudge line
Never too
much

I try on my blue shirt
She told me she liked it
once

She wonders what I'll wear
She knows just what she'll wear
She always wears blue

Some sneakers or flip flops
I'm starting to panic
wait, wait
Remember she asked you
Remember to
breathe

And everything
Will be okay
All right
okay

. arigato .

the hardest thing.

2010-01-16T19:17:00.002+11:00

remember to breathe
when you're going under.

echoes that stay silent
when you're all alone.

awake
and done afraid.
asleep
or dead.

never knowing
beyond six feet.

do you remember
the whispers
of said ifs and tomorrows?

'twas imagined
and good as it was
everything's eventual
and we all fall apart.

again, we
say those words we
get so used to,

and the rest is history.

. arigato .

heard.

2010-01-12T15:20:00.003+11:00

" My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever. "

- Psalms 73: 26

And she reminds me that even if nothing else works anymore,

He does.

Thanks D. Much love.

. arigato .

sigh.

2010-01-12T01:28:00.001+11:00

:(

. arigato .

places you've come to fear the most.

2010-01-12T01:19:00.000+11:00

. arigato .

and Your promise.

2010-01-11T16:05:00.007+11:00

- extracted from Steve McCracken's devotional:

" Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. "

- Romans 8: 35-39

Wow.

. arigato .

lucky for the mayans.

2010-01-10T00:17:00.003+11:00

I was brought up in a church that dwelled a fair bit on the whole revelations chapter. About how we can all read the signs. And as I grew older, I learnt to question interpretations and figure out that it was not about the end of the world, but about how we should live before it happened.

Today, I read that they have created a new lithium battery that was manufactured using a printer.

They say a mutated strain of the swine/avian flu is just around the corner.

The euro has already rolled out.

Religious tensions have sparked in Malaysia, while elsewhere everywhere else racial riots continue to surge.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out we don't exactly have long.

I just wish we were more successful at converting apathy into compassion and sensibility.

. arigato .

like hollywood.

2010-01-09T21:04:00.006+11:00

hollywood - angus & julia stone

I blame you Hollywood,
for showing me things you never should
show a young girl,
In a cruel world.

Because life’s not a happy ending,
I’m sure there is some,
like Johnny and June,
and maybe other people too.

They all would have been killed
in the sound of music,
they would have found out that
Pinocchio could never tell the truth.

She never would have made it to shore,
the little mermaid. He would have married a whore
from a wealthy family, after all he was royalty.

Cinderella would have scrubbed those floor
still her hands grew old and tired,
and nobody would look away,
that’s the way it goes today.

I blame you Hollywood,
for showing me things you never should
show a young girl,
In this cruel world.

Because life’s not a happy ending,
I’m sure there is some
like Johnny and June,
and maybe other people too.

And maybe other people too
Like me and you.

. arigato .

you know it's beer o'clock when.

2010-01-09T15:38:00.006+11:00

Saturday afternooon at 30 degrees out, kicking back in my room, fan on max, with a garlic prawn pizza (a rare occasion since there are two housemates who are allergic), garlic bread (stay away, edward cullen!), hahn's superdry beer, and watching Live Free or Die Hard on the twoseven lcd.

What could be better? I'm sure there's more. Heaps more

But hey, sometimes good things can be found just round the corner. And with that, I am content.

Yippee-ki-yay, brother.

. arigato .

poh chye.

2010-01-06T23:56:00.003+11:00

am feeling horrible that you're not well! really hope you'll feel better soon.

argh how i hate ld. if i could, you know i would.

and if things work out, and tomorrow doesn't,

if you want to, i promise i'll bring you back.

call me foolish,

but maybe it's because you mean that much.

. arigato .

45.

2010-01-05T23:57:00.002+11:00

they say it's meant to get easier.

if only it was true.

. arigato .

wonderful.

2010-01-05T13:45:00.001+11:00

. arigato .

business as usual.

2010-01-05T07:25:00.003+11:00

Sleep recovery.
Check.

Health recovery.
Pending.

What's the diagnosis, doc?
Vitamin C, plenty water, and man up.

Report on first day at work?
2 hours sleep night before due to jet-lag. On the train to work before discovering one woke up one hour too early due to disorientation to alarms and time.

Solutions to disorientation?
Frozen groceries, and a visit to JB Hi Fi, sir.

Condition status?
Stil unsettled. A little too much silence allowing unstable thought-flow. Still prone to negativity and pipe dreams.

Looks like it's business as usual, then?
Aye aye, captaino.

. arigato .

fuzzy logic.

2010-01-03T14:26:00.003+11:00

Back.

I have hardly enough sleep tapped in, and quite jet-lagged as well, so excuse me if my words are less than coherent, compared to, you know, the usual incoherence.

I thought I'll start by saying I'm done with long distance travelling for awhile. The new SIA airbus is definitely more comfortable than the usual flights. Even the economy seats get nifty upgrades like a bigger screen, better in-flight entertainment system, and they even have a plug-in for your laptop in case you prefer your own options. But I've been in and out of too many places in the past three weeks. My head has been constantly trying to re-adapt and adjust to waking up and remembering where I'm waking up to.

So here I am. I've managed to unpack my bag and snooze a little. Despite picturing my room several times the past few weeks even when on holiday, coming back still takes a little time to get used to. I had to pause when the cab driver asked for my address today.

I guess it is good to be back. I will miss the endless days of summer holidays, the little but important family comforts (laundry and ironing topping the list, of course), old friends, and in due time, the food and other things as well. For now, this is familiar. And by proxy with my personality, comfortable. I still have abit to get through. There's a pile of laundry to attend to, emails to respond to, facebook messages to reply, work apparel to iron and...

...but for now, I need to get re-acquainted with (not quite) an old love.

Hello Eleanor.

Plink plank.

. arigato .

look on the bright side.

2010-01-02T05:09:00.002+11:00

. arigato .

choice.

2010-01-02T01:57:00.002+11:00

At this time tomorrow, I will be flying over the skies en route back to Melbourne. Home is now a concept I'm finding difficult to define, really. They say home is where the heart is, but what if you have a soft spot for more than one?

Being here is a good thing. A reprieve from the daily toil, to be among family and old friends makes senese. Yet, even the familiar turns a tinge unfamiliar when the little things don't quite add up. Perhaps, in more ways than imagined, I am estranged because emotionally, I have been uprooted, and while the mise-en-scene is the same, the direction of the script isn't.

And if you ask me why would I choose to return back to a 5-day working schedule compared to the endless summer of holidays, I would hesitate and tell you honestly that I do not know, except that it is familiar.

Today, I saw a good friend get married. They have been dating for many many years, and to see them take another step forward is a really nice thing. Maybe I have too many negative things to say about relationships, but then people like her bear a little hope that sometimes, some people managed to find what they're looking for, and that happy endings still do exist. And that tells me the world is still alright.

And really, romance is a fuzzy feeling that will eventually wean, unless people work at it. And there will be days, as my colleague aptly illustrates, whereby you wake up to a face of your kids puke, and the last thing on your mind is making an effort to do something nice for your partner or go out on a date. But love is something else. Love is sometimes the absence of a desire to sacrifice your non-existent time and freedom to wipe that mess up, tell your wife you'll look after two screaming kids while asking her to go buy something nice for herself while you cook dinner tonight. And that might sound abit far-fetched and not quite possible, but if it would make someone a little happier, would it not be worth thinking about it?

To give without expecting something back. The littlest things.

And without the benefit of that pretty picture, to put it simply, if you're cleaning up your kids' poop, doing the dishes, or taking out the garbage, just to help the other person out,

I think that's love enough.

. arigato .

closure.

2010-01-01T02:51:00.006+11:00

So, it seems that I have issues. Which is not really a surprise. I suppose the pessimism has to feed off from somewhere.

But I guess we all have our own problems with self-esteem. We will never feel good enough, cause truth is we never are. But we are wish we could be, to be someone better than we are. Aspiration's not a bad thing, but more often than not, we beat ourselves up because we fail to live up to different sorts of expectations.

And the painful bit is coming up to face the truth. That there are some things about ourselves that we can't quite change. And that there are some things that really ought to be.

To feel not good enough, is our tragedy.

But I'm meant to be writing something a tad more cheery. being New Year's and all. Something inspiring and hopeful. Not to say it has been a terrible year after all. It has been a decent year. Alot of good things happen, and alot of unexpected ones as well.

I suppose the close of the year sometimes feel like an internal audit of your personal accounts. This is what you have achieved, and this is the shortfall where you fail to match up, etc (okay maybe it's just me then).

Perhaps sometimes it's just that, even though I know that we will never be able to be perfect. That we still have our chances to work at having better qualities and skills. Yet, regrets come easier than positivity (again, maybe just me).

But it is New Year's after all. As they say, brand new start and chapter and all that. A new year to make amends, resolutions and revolutions.

I guess I'm just not used to looking on the bright side.

But here's to hope. And if one of the things on my list can stay the same at least by the close of next year, I daresay I'll eat my words and owe you guys one.

Here's to a better year.

Goodbye 2009. We had fun. But you're like, so yesterday.

Hello 2010. Be nice, please...

. arigato .

say please.

2009-12-25T04:55:00.003+11:00

if i can wake up every morning

and know that it isn't a dream,

i promise i will try to be contented

for the rest of my life.

and no i am not sappy...

. arigato .

the most wonderful time.

2009-12-25T02:21:00.003+11:00

I get pretty sentimental at Christmas Eve. That's because despite the years and not having celebrated Christmas the old-fashioned style for a long long while, I was fortunate enough to have a few years having a christmas tree and glistening wrapped presents. Waking up on Christmas Day all excited not just because there's a gift specially waiting for you, but that the day is magic simply because everyone believes so.

I would be lying if I told you I don't dream about those times anymore. But I've come to accept that this special moments are now meant to be carried on to my little tykes in the future. And I get to play Santa this time round. And despite the somewhat terrifying stories my married colleague tells me, despite thinking about soiled diapers and sleepless nights and zero time and energy for romance or life in any form, I still want to be able to look at their hopeful eyes, and give them something to remember. Something good to hold on to when the world goes crazy on them, and something worth passing on.

Merry Christmas everyone. Play nice and be nice to someone. You never know what kinda fond memories you can leave if you choose to love a little.

. arigato .

twenty four.

2009-12-25T02:13:00.002+11:00

At 24, you realize your days of receiving and opening Christmas presents by the tree are long gone, and the next time you get that feeling again is with your own kids.

At 24, your friends start getting married and having kids while you have yet to save enough for a ring, much less a wedding of any grand fashion.

At 24, you no longer wish to look for love, but rather wish you already were deep in one.

At 24, you wonder if there's still time to make the most of your life.

Then again,

at 24, if you have a stable job and income, you have enough to give to others. You have your hands and feet to make someone's life a little better.

at 24, you still have love to give, regardless whether you're in a relationship or married or not.

at 24, the world is your oyster if you are but determined enough to not just trace your dreams, but colour the insides of the lines.

at 24, sometimes you think you're still superman, and that you can do anything. And sometimes, you're close.

Twenty four is good. Twenty four works just fine for me.

. arigato .

seek first the kingdom.

2009-12-23T03:13:00.002+11:00

Today has been a good day.

Morning swim, followed by lunch in a food court (no matter how bad, you just can't get that in Melbourne), amusing anecdotes over coffee, and meeting up with two old mates from the nostalgic era.

And she may not realize nor be able to comprehend it, but her stories had actually woven into the crevices of a somewhat cold heart and reminded him that however you wish to spin it, He's always been real and His promises everlasting.

He learnt that even if you choose to dismiss or forget the ordinary miracles, it doesn't mean they stop happening. And he's awfully proud of them, for coming the long way they did. He never quite imagined it, but as they gave thanks for whatever they had, it warmed him to know that even they had found faith in the world that went crazy on them.

And what more he, who has been blessed with much?

It's never too late for resolutions. Nor revolutions.

Time to start over again.

. arigato .

the waiting.

2009-12-19T22:47:00.005+11:00

the endless downpour,

she waits
for something better.

. arigato .

edge of reason.

2009-12-19T13:02:00.006+11:00

The sound of the fury of winds that tear around her seems to envelope into a cocoon of silent contemplation. She can barely hear the distant traffic that rumbles thirty stories below, only the voices in her head. And they were of the persuasive nature.

Her feet begins to ache under the strain of keeping to the tiny lip of ledge, going against the howling winds that threaten to rip her off the safety of the overhanging. There is a mild tingling which would pass for fear; otherwise, there's only one thought left in her mind. She has been numb and void of other emotions since that one night. As the memories resurface, she dismisses with practiced ease. It isn't too hard, given the circumstance.

Down below, she can see the faint outlines of pedestrians walking below, oblivious to the drama that is happening above. She wonders how many of them are thinking the same thoughts, and how many of them would end up standing on the same ledge as her. The drop is a familiar dream after all. Falling, as they say, is like flying. Except in the other direction.

She balances herself precariously, rocking her heels gently on and off the surface, daring gravity to make a decision for her. She almost loses it at one point, except for a stray zephyr that somehow pushes her back.

She has lost everything so far. But this jump belongs to her alone.

She closes her eyes.

Faint chirps of newborn chicks. A piledriver digging into new foundations. A cacophony of car horns of parents anxious to get to their kids at childcare.

The sound of her wings.

Not today, she thinks, and steps back into the welcome embrace of the open roof.

. Arigato .

peekaboo.

2009-12-19T01:59:00.001+11:00

Stop stalking me, Daph!

(haha kidding.)

Enjoy your girly time!

. Arigato .

you call it mer lah ker.

2009-12-18T18:48:00.002+11:00

Day seven of my holiday hiatus. Away from the drudgery of work (which I usually do enjoy, but it's been overwhelming of late), from the routine nine to five days, long walks to catch the train and back. Away from the minaturized version of my room, with my 27-inch screen (no, I haven't gotten over it), multitudes of dvds and books and familiar grounds.

It's been a somewhat unexpected turn of events so far. I guess it has been pretty awesome and I'm looking forward to what's ahead as well. At the moment, I'm sidelined in Melaka, which is also an unexpected detour. I was meant to renew my passport and collect it on the same day, but thanks to the ever efficient bureaucracy and administration, I'm stuck till Monday when the office reopens and I get to collect my new passport.

Which is okay cause my cousin Jay is here, except I didn't quite have enough clothes. That has been taken care of, and I did bring my laptop (the one thing I never travel without) so that will keep me sufficient entertained in the meantime. And entropy is okay in small doses I guess. I haven't been here in two years, so this feels very much like home and nostalgia for me.

I'm sure I have lots of people to catch up with (and I will get to you shortly), and couple of other errands to run. For now, I guess I can be contented just settling into Malaysia and drifting into long afternoons of nothingness. There's something about listening to distant dog barkings, occasional traffic and cantonese drama blaring that is quite comforting.

All this is rather nice; I just wish that I didn't have to miss certain things though.

Ah well. Entropy calls.

. Arigato .

nine point five weeks.

2009-12-18T18:28:00.005+11:00

perhaps it is
best not to question
the whys and wherefores.

but to trust that
good things happen
sometimes.

i don't know
if i dare share your optimism
but i guess
i might be willing to try.

and the polaroids
may tell a different story
(after all, you were there
and you knew me)

but if you would dare
believe,

you're something else altogether.

a little
perfect.

never quite like this
always fleeting, always uncertain
only now
too scared to lose this
because it was never quite
this perfect

(now you understand why
i prefer emo greys)

and if we were to lose it all
you need to know
that i would never
forget the three days of summer
when i learnt
to love again.

for now,
know that
i would wait.

. Arigato .

perhaps.

2009-12-18T16:05:00.002+11:00

the fine line
that draws between
beauty and tragedy.

love that
changes everything
the ephemeral twilight
transient time
when all that exists
and matters
fall away

and there's only
us.

to fly
is to become
vulnerable
to inevitable gravity.

patience
to wait
to hope against
fear of
losing everything
all over again.

this fall
might go deeper.

faith enough
to believe
in something
better
comes dearly.

no movie script ending
nor deus ex machina.

just pure simple blindness
of foolish love.

may we all be
so lucky.

. Arigato .

and this one's for you.

2009-12-10T09:45:00.001+11:00

and we can all choose to dream.

. Arigato .

mercurial.

2009-12-09T15:21:00.003+11:00

The simple things

that say the most.

Saline fears

brushed away

by messages

that comfort miles away.

The unexpected

drops deep down

beneath and beyond.

And the familiar and comfortable

mix together

not quite

like oil and water.

There is a gentle softness

about you that breaks

my resilient pessimism.

Too afraid

to say the words

that wonders if

need be or

should be said at all.

And I wonder

if I could love you

without you ever knowing.

Just quietly so.

. Arigato .

the beautiful letdown.

2009-12-09T14:55:00.002+11:00

I just realized that I am (almost) utterly sick of staring at a computer screen at work. It has been a crazy past two weeks. My daily schedule went like this:

Wake up at 7-ish am.

Work from 9am - 7pm.

Return home to rest for 20mins.

Head to the old place to clean, which includes detailed scrubbing of walls, clearing of junk, wiping down every surface, etc.

Return home at 2am to commence unpacking and refitting into new place.

Sleep at 4am.

Wake up at 7-ish am.

Do not pass Go, do not collect $200...

It has been pretty exhausting on all fronts. Work has upped the ante as well since the promotion. I now have to look after a team of four (because one is redundant), and we are made to do more with even less resources. If it's one thing I've learnt, is that simple math is not a prerequisite for certain roles in upper management.

Not that I'm complaining (okay, yes I am...). I guess it could often be worse, and I should really be content with what I have. And to a certain degree, I am. The new place, albeit older and smaller, is cosier and has more of a homey feeling. The new room, while invalids the desire to get a queen bed (nooo!!!), is more than functional. Less space also equals easier furnishing. I quite like being surrounded by books and dvds, and having a balcony and 27-inch LCD monitor definitely makes the room that much awesomer.

No internet at the new place yet, which explains the lack of activity on the blogging front. Which is also a good thing cause that means I get to do more (sort of). And I finally get to take my leave this Friday. It's going to be pretty sweet I reckon.

And certain things start moving ahead of what I imagined. I'm tired of cliches and overboard jump-start feelings really. I think I've officially become phobic to it. Was it too much too soon? I know not, but then again, hindsight has always been a sandy place by the sea.

And yet, oh the beautiful punctuation of a comma next to 'yet'. What if it feels real? I don't think one necessarily becomes wiser or more adept at defining or distinguishing the arguments. After all, one can easily point out that every other one was confessed as real. And that would be a valid point. But wherehence do we, should we, ought we dump this tiny but ever potent feeling of optimism?

You can read this, you understand. Maybe I'm too lazy to be too cryptic, eh sister? But you can tell me what is one supposed to do when-----.

Yeah like I'll tell everyone else. I'm lazy but not that lazy. Heh.

. Arigato .

cancer.

2009-12-04T12:13:00.003+11:00

Turn away,
If you could get me a drink
Of water 'cause my lips are chapped and faded
Call my Aunt Marie
Help her gather all my things
And bury me in all my favorite colours,
My sisters and my brothers, still,
I will not kiss you,
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.

Now turn away,
'Cause I'm awful just to see
'Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body,
Oh, my agony,
Know that I will never marry,
And baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo,
We're counting down the days to go
It just ain't living
And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)
Goodbye tonight (goodbye tonight)
I'll ask you to be true (cause I'll ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you

. Arigato .

and the unfinished movie.

2009-12-02T10:58:00.007+11:00

The grand divide
between right and wrong
becomes quite uncertain,
and better left unspoken.

And I sleep
with the ghost of you
whispering in memories.

Not quite sure
what it all means
and maybe it's nothing more
than a figment of fragile wishes,
but maybe we'll tell better
after this quarter.

But nevertheless,
you left me with

more than
a smile.

. Arigato .

zomg.

2009-11-26T01:37:00.003+11:00

Okay, so there's more to pack than I realized.

The tough bit about moving, is to be honest with oneself and chuck away unwanted things. Excess baggage. We all need to learn to move on.

It's also the little things that are hardest to pack away. Big ticket items can be stuffed into bags and boxes. The little nitty-gritty ones are a tad harder to shelve.

And I've got about a day left.

Oops.

On the flip side, things are going well/terrible, depending on how (and when) you look at it.

I don't really know what to make of these jumbledthoughts. I like to think I've grown up enough to recognize when it's emo-nonsense and when it means something. I'm pretty sure it's the former at the moment.

It's just that,

it's not as easy to shake off as I would assume. And I wonder why sensibilities don't take shape quicker.

Oh sadness is beautiful. Loneliness is tragic. So says the BSBs.

You with your legions of adoring fans and bucketloads of cash fail to convince me that you understand. Not that I can claim otherwise.

But still.

Maybe, I need to stop asking why, and just,

pretend at pretending.

. Arigato .

so they say.

2009-11-24T23:31:00.005+11:00

so they say
that it comes back to
the morning after.

we breeze along the
eddies and zephyrs,
settling into
a spot of quiet stillness.

we smile easier
when it's real.

there is still an
inner desire to run after
fleeting emotions and
falling in love with love.

but all things considered,
we're better off impaired.

no warm comfortable you
to come home to
or call at the end of the day,

but,

i keep dreaming
that you could be happier
without me

and then,
i start to smile too.

. Arigato .

i used to know this girl.

2009-11-24T00:00:00.002+11:00

sigh...

. Arigato .

mezzanine floor.

2009-11-23T23:19:00.004+11:00

I'm not too good with relationships really. I've got oodles of theories, many which have been dispensed with in the past few years.

See, love is a pretty confusing thing. Because you can never apply the same rule all the time. Sometimes you've just got to figure it out.

And of course, as much as I am a cynical bugger, one cannot help but reserve some idealistic notions of finding someone you would like to come home to. Good conversations is important. Humour is nice. Someone who loves films and books is golden.

But it's okay. The harder you try, the more confusing it gets. You will always need perspective with it.

Plus I'm never good with happy endings. I have too much of a perchant for unrequited love.

. Arigato .

inexplicable.

2009-11-23T22:09:00.002+11:00

Oh,
you and your cryptic smile.

Me and
my imagination.

Inexplicably so,
just a tender gaze,
one soft smile,

and I've got you
under my skin.

. Arigato .

simply put.

2009-11-23T22:00:00.002+11:00

i could tell you
the simple truth.

but it's never simple enough.

and i'd much rather
think of you everyday.

. Arigato .

more quotable quotes nineteen november.

2009-11-19T17:04:00.000+11:00

"Never got to bed mad. Stay up and fight."

- Phyllis Diller

. Arigato .