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| Off the top of my head, it startled my a bit that my last post was within this month. Somehow I thought it was at least a couple of months since I've last written anything. But hey, what better time to break the hiatus eh? Maybe it's due to my avidness of binge reading, I tend to unawarely quote lines that I've came across in the past when I write. I know I'm able to write respectably, but originality is not my forte. The potential of plagiarism is often at the fringes of my mind, but maybe sometimes you just can't really care that much when altering it would break the flare of the piece. For the past few days, a lot of stuff have been going through my mind, but due to my laziness I expect most of them to be gone together with the moment. I'll try to scavenge some of it now, since truth be told there's nothing else worth wasting effort on other than rekindling my love for 30 Rock and Tina baby with this cornucopia of time. We live in a culture that prizes youth, and because of this, we're conditioned for nostalgia. We see the time that's behind us as time lost, full of opportunities that are lost now too. And at the end of the decade, we feel it tenfold. I've been rewatching movies from the start of the millenium for the past few weeks and frankly, it's kinda eerie when you realize how they will soon be 10 years old. No amount of how-time-flies clichés can consolidate the impact of this epiphany. Sometimes I just wish that my life's a movie that is updated constantly. Just a button or two to rewind my whole life and live through the high times whenever I'm down or depressed. Honestly, I hate this transition period, this treshold of adolescence that one must go through. I want to either rewind everything back to a couple of months ago or fast forward to a few years later when I'm already firmly established in adulthood. I know this is all mere wishful thinking, but sometimes I pride myself in being a simpleton. With the sorry state our current world is in right now, I think it's better to be peculiar than to fit in. I know for a fact that most of my peers are enjoying this period of time, with their drunken night outs and assests-flashing to match. I am too to be honest, enjoying it I mean, it's just that I like it better the last time when you can let your imagination take charge. It's like a hooker analogy that I watched in one of those 10-year-old movies I've mentioned earlier on. This guy said that the best part of the whole hooking process is before the girl actually arrives. You get to do the guess work and hoping that maybe she's a Megan or a Gisele or an Alessandra. But when she finally arrives, the whole thrill of it is gone. You just get the fornication done with and be gone. The fact is, I've gotten used to the whole ordeal of school and now that it's out of my system, there's just something not right. I love to hate school and now that I don't get to is kind of sad. Speaking of my peers just really creates a deep aversion towards some of them that emanates from the fact that I used to call them friends. But I guess I'm in no position to say anything about the way they choose to live their life. Afterall, I don't own them, right. In my opinion facebook should just disable the update feature. Perhaps there already is a button that allows one to do that as I speak, but then again I'm not that fb-savvy to start with. So here goes, I logged into it recently and my homepage was bombarded by hundreds of uploaded images from some acquaintances. Perhaps I've had previous episodes that aren't worth mentioning with some of them but I like to think that I've grown up a little bit for the past 2 years and hence we added each other out of common courtesy. Well, if you're a facebook user then you would know where I'm going with when pictures after pictures of these people started to furnish my screen. I know my opinion on them might not be held at the highest regards, but it just irks me to think how I once would never have expected such behaviour from these particular individuals. I'm not critisizing them though cuz like I've said, I'm in no position to. Maybe because I ain't getting groped by interracial strangers every night, I don't get to have a perspective. Materials in this whole entire blog have been circulating around my hidden distaste for people I know. Perhaps it's time to move on and start writing about other stuff. I mean, I'm pretty sure adults don't write this kind of stuff. But then again, what do I know? It's just that there's a tugging sense of deja vu that comes with my inevitable seperation with the current crop of people I'm hangin', or used to hanged with. It just makes me wonder could it be that I trudged about and immersed myself in the pathos of nostalgia and forget that ultimately seperation is one of the core essence in life. Love is one of the most confusing word in the English language. You can love a football club, a feeling, a TV show, an apartment and a host of other things, people and places. It's a precious little thing that one is at the liberty to give to another human being, not a reward to be awarded to an individual with qualities you think are worthy reason for your affection. I actually think I got that from 'the ugly truth'. It's funny how one thing can lead to another, I was thinking about something and it strayed off to the movie. It's funny too how particular movies and songs remind me of people that matter to me. As the panorama of unexpected things starts to weave together, I tend to get sucked in into retrospection. Perhaps I'm too young to say that I've ever experienced anything other than deep infatuations for another person, but at this moment I think I'm able to say with conviction that there were a couple of times when I've actually gone through something close to love. Obviously on both occasions I fell short due to reasons I'm still unclear about, but let's not dabble in semantics right now. But the thing is, men crave for companionship. Not just friendly, but of the significant calibre. Unfortunately to say, and at the risk of my testerones being undermined, I fall victim for this state of mind too. Sometimes having someone to be deeply lovedrunk with ain't bad at all. Word. | | |
| Had the shittiest shithole in my hole shitlike fucken life yesterday. Don't fucking ask. Fuck it, life's too short to not have been through it all. I'll grow. I think. I swear to whoever's up there, these padawans are getting scarier by the day. Lucky me this shit is locked, if not I'd be contaminated by them. I fear for the future of our civilisation. Sudah lah need to grow up idolising vampires, but now got so many fucken mediums for them to transmit their faggotery. If that's even a word. I just can't wait to watch that show and laugh while doing that, just to annoy the ten to fifteen year olds in the cinema. OMG KIDS ON SUGAR RUSH GET THE FUCK OFF ME. | | |
| Just when I thought I could never love something or someone more than money, United, Tina baby and Sienna baby...SHE popped up, like an angel. Blame the fickle heart.  http://nymag.com/news/articles/reasonstoloveny/ The link is a few years back. But #43! <3 
Oh fuck SPM is soooooo near. Have tried to cram as much as possible into my brain these past few days. But there are so many distractions. Even when I'm surrounded by books, there are still stuffs that make my mind stray off. For instance, a bizarre incident in the library today which made me laugh my head off. These acquaintances of mine are real darlings, I must say. And I can't stop reading this book. There is a tinge of guilty conscience whenever I pick it up. But somehow I managed to tell myself that hey, at least I'm reading something. Oh well, gotta face it anyway. BRING THAT FUCKER ON YO MAMA. | | |
| My outward appearance is often in deep contrast with what I'm feeling internally. Maybe some of you might have noticed this by now. I feel like opening up, so bear with me please. This might be my last time writing here, or perhaps the urge to expose myself in cyber space might resurface tomorrow. You never know. You can say right now I'm practically eating my own words. A friend asked me about the depth in authenticity of my last piece of writing and at that time, I shrugged it off as merely fiction. But suicidal thoughts have been waltzing in and out of my mind for the past few days. I don't know, maybe it's just examination pressure playing with my mind or perhaps it's someone or something that is causing this bulging uneasiness in me. At times like this I often seek solace in my writing. It compels me to turn to writing in the hope that I'll be able to form a semblance of ideals amidst the plethora of words. In retrospect, it allows me to understand a bit more about why things are the way they are and to make some sense out of the mounting hypocrisy in this world. I've actually tried to restrain myself from writing. The 'high' abbreviated when I'm typing words have often led me to a false pretense that all that I'm going through is just a story in mind and once I've reached the final full-stop, everything will be back to something less dramatized. Of course the sensation it fills me up with is heavenly, but just as every blissful moment is so often marred by a touch of realism, I spend up to hours staring at the blinking cursor tryna fill this space up instead of doing something productive. That is not particularly witty when you're a SPM student in a race against time with judgement day just a fortnight away. Xanga had been a great medium for me to vent and grate off all my resentment in the past. But lately I realised I'm no longer able to write an honest piece like I used to. Somehow, there's this omnipresent tinge of guilty conscience censoring parts which form the bedrock of what I want to write about. But a man's got a limit and today I just feel like letting it all out in one go. My sudden introversion is possibly due to my past experiences. Or maybe I've just simply grown out of that kid who spills his guts out to a person he just met 5 minutes ago. The thought of starting a journal is at the fringes of my mind, but the idea took huge dives when I realised that a sizeable amount of self-discipline is required in doing such. Speaking of which, lack of discipline has been the Achilles heel throughout my life. A perfect example of it is how I gave up karate as a kid when I was just one 'dan' close to achieving a black belt. Pour in other banes in the form of procrastination and lack of motivation and voi la, you find yourself brewing the perfect recipe for utter academic damnation. Sometimes I hate myself for this, how I'm able to plan stuff and make explicitly impeccable timetables but never got down to actually doing it. Exams are oh so near and my unpreparedness is of biblical proportions. I have nothing against the famous phrase 'practice makes perfect', but when something that you do turns into labour, it turns into drudgery; a shadow that tails you persistently and tears at you. Education used to be fun to me, but my abhorrence towards it gradually intensified after a few years of poor academic results. The fact that writing makes me feel better somewhat portrays the lack of genuine companionship that I have in my life. Sometimes you just wanna let all the shit out but no one seems to be willing to lend you an ear. Of course they offer help and all, but you just can feel the half-heartedness in them. Why bother if that's the case then, nay? Afterall, most of them are merely acquaintances that I have not lost touch with yet. I sometimes struggle to define myself within the confines and collation of the world. You cannot say that I didn't try. I've tried succumbing to the flow of life, hopping around groups, trying to find a stereotype that fits me. There were good times of course, when we could talk to each other about our dreams, hopes, love, frustrations and plenty of other stuff that didn't really matter. Back then, I knew they cared when they listened. But it just didn't really work out. And sometimes I wonder where does that leave me at. I've told myself that I'd never ever let someone have that much effect and power on me anymore. And for a large portion of recent times, I've been able to live up to my own words. But being a teenager, there'll always be a need to have a companionship of the significant calibre. No matter how much your mind tells you to abandon this bourgeois ideal, there is a friction of colliding emotions that tolls deep inside of you like a portentous gong that suggests otherwise. Unfortunately, I fell victim to this predicament as well. But after several futile attempts at it, I've subscribed to the universal belief that I suck at it, and maybe I should just leave this matter unperturbed for the moment. Well, if you're to dense to interpret this as a hint, maybe you should consider discontinue living immediately until you see the bright lights and old folks. With the end of high school on the horizon, perhaps these people will remain memories of better days. For now, I just hope I can survive the dreaded exams and maybe something or someone will come along to give me hope, and reignite my zest for life. The thought of hope brings a smile to my face in the universal reflex of joy. Hope for a life in my dream place, and hope for a job that is coherent to what I love doing. The thought that, perhaps my tomorrow might be a better day. I have to admit there are canny resemblances of this post to some previous ones I've written. But then again, writing to me is the direct transcendentalism of emotions that one is going through. I have a knack of fictionalising reality and perhaps I might have included some details that aren't particularly truthful. This might seem like an introspection, but then again, it might be just another one of those made up lives I constantly fill my mind with. | | |
| In New York
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York
These streets will make you brand new
Big lights will inspire you, let's hear it for New York
New York, New York 
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