Skripchur

He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest onto his stomach.

By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over.

I am not sad.

As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad.

I am not sad. I am not sad.

Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, in so far as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a littler weaker, but still pumping. and by the mid afternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.

I am not sad.

Jonathan Safran Foer

We are not idealized wild things.
We are imperfect mortal beings, aware of that mortality even as we push it away, failed by our very complication, so wired that when we mourn our losses we also mourn, for better or for worse, ourselves. As we were. As we are no longer. As we will one day not be at all."

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

kittehh

Hi.

At this very moment as I am typing this, I'm going insane from a sudden craving for Tiramisu or Strawberry Cheesecake or Crème Brulée or just ANYTHING from Häagen-Dazs.

Arrghhh.

the last time I did a kitteh was here.

Take it and go

Before I leave here, I want
to hear my name change in the mouth

of another animal.
Let it take long.

He’ll want what I wanted from you—
blood at its richest,

most luminous, in that first moment
it touches the air.

Like the hunted
I need the day’s sharpness—

deeper water,
something alive to sift

through me and kill.
- All Souls Day, Alex Dimitrov

Perhaps a possible explanation to my recent form of subdued / subjugated blogging is of my immense fear of being judged - my words being diced and nitpicked on, my thoughts thought out, myself deduced and scrutinized.

I have the least idea whence this fear first sprouted, nor from when, nor how; but it shouldn't be like that.

This is my blog, my personal space. I didn't set out to get an account just to keel under the pressure from the public eye. This tiny window among the sea of others is just as insignificant and unnoteworthy as any other and the least I could have is the right to write just about anything, however I want to convey it, no matter what the impression it sets forth.

After all, isn't this is my selfish enclosure, and my letters to my future?

Take this as my first step in banishing all people-pleasing thoughts and intentions as I start to look inside and at myself. Also, I'm whipping out my point-and-shoot and putting the pictures into the equation of the decision because, let's face it, IT'S MY BLOG. And well yeah, now that I have no thesis nor assignments to excuse myself from freewriting and now that I have all the fuhreaking time in the world (not really),

I shall write, and I shall shoot, and I shall express.

Your approval is not needed, here's my middle finger to the world.


And now I force feed whoever's reading with some fairly recent photos from my fairly recent BlackBerry:

A random paddlepop sky in random Putrajaya one very random day

A not-so-savoury-looking plate of vegetarian pasta but on the contrary, it tasted simply ambrosial



That's Orianthi, the national animal of Australia. We got free VIPs and she was awesome.



Look what godding did to him.

More randomness to ensue, soon. Mercury is no longer in retrogade and we can all be awesome again!

Do not if you do not.

People, don't we all do what society bids us to? To their rights and wrongs, their dos and don'ts, their needs and wants.

Perhaps this is why I cut ties and I run, too often a time. I do not want of you what you think I do, I do not want anything but sincerity. And if you could just manage that, along with some tact so as to keep your lips sealed - to keep hearts guarded - to not make me feel bad about things, about myself.

Why do you put yourself in such an awkward position, where all your actions and intentions are transparent? There is no doubt that being selfish is not too much of a bad thing...but too much of not too much of something could be a bad thing, regardless of what you say. Isn't it funny how the only times when you weren't nearly selfish are the times when you, oddly, are the most? Sad to say, sad to hear that inferiority got the best of us. Me then, you now.

And you, who's got yourself so far deep into the reaches of your mind. You, whom I cannot fathom, try as I might. Oh believe me, I really did try and at one point, I darn did convince myself that I've grasped it, grasped you. We built dreams of castles in the sky - plans of skyscraper proportions. But a neutral party got the better of us. A party which concept you have always been fond of. A thing in common, a simile - me then, you now.

Then you, sidestepped, wronged you went blundering forth frolicking, foraging, making, growing, living, learning, loving. You always get there before I do, no matter the weather. Pioneer, initiator you. Creative, artsy fartsy you. Smily, grinny, careless you.

You then, me now.


Regrets and apologies on my part, for I too, am only human.

Now, onwards.

Hello September

Ok maybe the post below was a lil too dramatic.

Here's a song to contain everything...instead of, y'know, dramatic words.

:)