thought #265- 2:17am confessions

1. Things between us were so much better before I left. Perhaps it was the urgency, the thought at the back of our heads that beat against our bewildered chests reminding us that it would never be the same again. Perhaps it was the way we dipped into each others lives, at moments as best friends, sometimes something more so routinely that we couldn't stop bring a part of it all. Perhaps you liked me a little more, and I the same. Perhaps we just got used to being away from each other that those cold nights sitting at your back porch holding hands are now just fond memories, that really in retrospect it, you, me and us meant nothing at all... Perhaps I'm only feeling this way because I secretly just miss you.

2. I don't know how to stop caring about you. I feel ridiculous and pathetic to be separated by oceans and time differences and countries and still wondering if you're well. If maybe, in between your frivolous living, your intoxicated evenings, the cigarette breaks in the quad and the joints you roll so professionally and the inconvenient fact that you love someone else, you think about me. Be it in a scintilla of insignificance, do things remind you of me? Does that song take your mind back to that time we sat on the mattress, high and happy like in a 90's teenage movie? Do you ever wonder how I am? Do you still remember that night we... Or am i being quixotic? I hate asking these questions knowing very well that you don't, because even when I had the chance to matter to you I didn't. And though I try not to dwell on that stupor, that semester, I still feel I left my heart on the other side of the world. You still bruise me.

3. Part of me wants to relive you again, the other wants to erase it. You came as a surprise, something unintentional, something that even I was taken off guard by. Perhaps it was an impulsive whim, spurred on by intoxication and your mysterious, foreign physique. I don't know if we will ever meet again but maybe if we do will I want it a second time round? Will I succumb to thinking that all I really need right now is the lack of familiarity, the off comfort of temporality, the absence of intimacy, the advantage of being a stranger with nothing attached to our names and being. Perhaps all I need is to be held in between the sheets, hearing you heavily breathe, feeling the warmth and weight of your arm wrapped around my body like a blanket of flesh. Perhaps I just need to fill the void of loneliness with another empty promise? You were lovely and all... but what about love?

4. I am so torn. In between attempting to salvage the condition of my soul, fighting. the carnal desires and vices that unhinge me every time, the struggle between self-image and worth, my insecurities and doubts and trying to connect my aspirations and dreams with reality... I'm tired, unfulfilled and crumbling. I want so many things to work out in my life right now but I feel like a mess. I need divine intervention, motivation, I need life and love. I just want to be content and happy like I was before. Instead of worrying all the time about the future and my impending ageing. I just need something good to work.

5. Happiness and heaven is just a state of mind. As hard as its going to be I'm going to be grateful. I choose to be happy. I choose life and not death. I choose not to be content with living a half hearted existence. I am thankful for the job I am yet to receive. I am thankful for the opportunity I am yet to grab. I am grateful to be doing tertiary education while others can't even afford a uniform. I am thankful for the things I have and the blessings I've been given instead of the things missing in my life. I will be patient for the man of my dreams and I know when the time is right he'll comes and I'll actually want to fall in love and it'll be so much more fulfilling than one night or one sordid crush that shits all over your heart with his oblivion. I am thankful for the angels I am yet to entertain, the people I am yet to meet and the goodness that is coming my way. I'm tired of falling asleep on a wet pillow. Joy comes with the morning.

Love,

thought #241- Lost or just less found?

So lately and especially this week has been rather traumatic and stressful to say the least. I'm not usually one to engage in pressure tests but recent events and emotions have driven me to my wit's end. In one week the comfortable lull of my existence and routine has been interrupted by unexpected changes. Apart from influx of assignments, uni work and impending finals big game changers have reared its head. Firstly my job at zanui ended abruptly, due to downsizing. This was rather shocking and disappointing. I did enjoy working at the office and meeting these beautiful people whom I never really did get the opportunity to lengthen our chatters and lunches to after work shenanigans. The now sudden shortage of income has now caused a buckle in the savings but I hope to figure out my next step as soon as I get word from exchange. To be honest exchange has been the ball cruncher for me since April. I have been waiting ever patiently, praying to receive that acceptance letter but it he silence does frighten me. After receiving multiple housing offers I am still left in the dark regarding any offers and I fear rejection (especially in this case) may actually cause an internal crumbling. I don't know how much to express my desire to see Europe, to live independently, to taste the world and come back with broadened horizons, prospective job opportunities, more purpose and devotion and even that European hunk I've been salivating and saving myself for since forever Ahaha but really it is something my heart aches for and just the thought of not being given the chance kills me so much. I guess it's still hoping and praying and believing it will be good news for me. Then lastly there's the feelings. Lately my position romantic wise has looked bleak (lately? More like for two years haha). As I've articulated numerous times though the thought of a real deal relationship is appealing I think I'm in this stage and position in life where I just want to have fun. No I don't mean whore around and break hearts and spirits aha I just mean take things lightheartedly, don't rush, be brave and a little deranged at it but wise and guarded all the way through. And if that babe for me comes along in the process then I've hit jackpot if not I can save it for the settling down. I mean i admit this sort of mentality isnt for everyone but right now with the whole cosmos trying to grab a piece of attention, the less drama is all I could want. Recently I've been getting questioned about my feelings for the bestfraaaand and frankly I wouldn't say no to the chance, I wouldn't back out if it happened and i'd probably say yes if asked but the fact that this is all hypothetical is enough for me to believe its all a platonic companionship with us. Keeping our lonely selves occupied and being the gap between absolute loneliness and finding that boy/girl for each other. I think that's what it is and I don't want to ovrranslyse with a shitload of over complications imagined in the membrane haha. Plus let's not forget no closure probably the only guy I secretly and deeply down inside have never fully gotten over... Oh dear. Can you see why I'm feeling the heat? I crave for rest, peace, a Thai message, a Korean BBQ dinner, bud, retail therapy and good old chat with the Big Man. That's what I really want. Peace of mind.
Love,

PS. I want all these feelings. Like a flood. Right now.

thought #233- the author

finally 2012 has arrived and i couldn't be more excited and slightly terrified at all the prospects that will be birthed, adventures that will be taken and memories that will be etched in our minds and maybe the contents of our hearts permanently. as to continue tradition, it would feel strange of me not to divulge the unfolding of our new years eve. most of it spent in a blur of rekordlig, cigarettes, bonfires, ben's bed,  backyard fireworks, Seinfeld reruns and power naps. it was as chilled and messy as i wanted my new years to be and i am more than thankful for having brought in the new year without my face in a toilet bowl. i guess some spliffs would of been icing on the cake but i'm not too picky haha. what did get me thinking that night was the lovely conversations with my gorgeous friend ben. i guess the whole moment we spent lying in bed like an old couple talking and napping made me suddenly miss the affection, the comfort, the familiarity of having someone by your side. it was strange because in the past, feelings associated with this quixotic notion usually ended up with me missing my former favourite boy or a past insignificant crush. however in that very moment and in retrospect, i didn't think about anyone in particular. i just wanted someone to hold... as cheesy and pathetic as that sounds haha it was no longer wanting a boyfriend minus the relationship or just a straight out relationship for that very matter. it was just the idea of having someone there. sure i miss the lunch dates and the butterflies and the late night phone calls and the doing nothing. but it just wasn't what i was looking for. it was the physical, human company. in all honesty i wish i could of just held bens hand there in the dark or held on to him that night, not out of romanticism or to hint a fuck. but, out of what they call platonic bed buddies, purely for the sake of knowing someone was beside me and that the single bed was not extending into an all encompassing gulf and that he would be there in the morning and that would be enough for me. i know it's strange feelings to articulate and i totally understand if you're reading this thinking... what the fuck is she on about? someone give the girl a penis now! haha but really it's not sex. it's the looming feeling of loneliness and the desire to want to fill the void. the peace of having someone there and being content and knowing that this is happiness. for now anyway.

love,

 ps. audrey hepburn feels me.

thought #160- lisp

i still remember the first time we met. i was minding my own business, sitting at a cafe i regularly (though not religiously) visited. my eyes were fixated upon the first few pages of prozac nation. the prose drowning me with its hypnotic, suffocating swell. i had one hand cupped against my skim mocha, the other wrapped around my book. i paid no attention to my surroundings, enveloped by physical and mental warmth. a careless body bumped into me and i was automatically removed from my hypnosis. he wore a collared shirt. tight pants and those leather boat shoes. i thought he looked geeky. slightly ridiculous. in between handsome and unusual. he kind of had a feminine twang to his grimace. he noticed my attention and blinked repeatedly. i thought he had something in his eye.

"sorry" he said. i heard a soft lisp.

i returned to my book but noticed the time. i left in a hurry and dropped my pen.

three weeks later my friend asked me to attend a pub gig. it was one of those warm spring nights, filled with sparkling wine and bare shoulders. we were smoking cigarettes, our backs against cool walls ridden with peeling paint. then he went on stage. armed with his weapon; armed with a guitar. he wore a collared shirt. tight pants and those leather boat shoes. it was him. i could not mistake it. i hadn't seen him for three weeks.

he strummed a few chords before continuing to greet the cheerful crowd. his lisp amplifyed as if he were making love to the microphone.

"this is a song i wrote, three weeks ago. about a girl, i didn't even meet. i know it sounds awkward because it is. i'm not a creep, i promise. i just kind of wish i said hello or something. or at least returned the pen she dropped. i'm sorry i let a stranger like her go as a stranger. this song's called sorry." i heard that soft lisp.

i remember feeling somewhat touched. somewhat frightened. somewhat freaked out. some what adored. he sat at the bar and i saw a pen sticking out of his left pocket, like a hand waving to be seen.  i approached him and said "i believe that's my pen."

he looked like he had seen an apparition. i told him i enjoyed his song and that he better not let me leave as a stranger again tonight. and so he didn't. and so i got my pen back.

a week later, i read more of prozac nation reaching the lines  I’d never been one of the lucky ones. I was always single, with occasional lapses into-well, into other kinds of lapses. feeling utterly empathetic. but then a lapse becomes a reality and out of nowhere people come into your life. then suddenly feeling sorry for yourself is nonsense. he came over one day. the lisp boy with the collared shirt, tight pants and leather boat shoes. he said he wrote a new song about me and he looked away with rouge cheeks. "this song's called thank you." 

love,

ps. must find this book and movie.

thought # 136- if i were a boy

Day 17 - Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why

this was hard. i can think of at least twenty. but i guess i'd like to be a man. then maybe i could fully comprehend the logic behind dumping a girl, the fright of saying i love you, being physically needy, checking out things other than fashion blogs and perving on other boys, walking in the footsteps of my father, wearing boxers and feeling breezy, looking in the mirror, having the slight bit interest in sport and everything else it includes. then maybe i could be more empathetic. maybe.

love

thought #115- i'm getting over you.

the twelve step guide on how to get over that person/animal/inanimate object.

step one: find every memory affiliated with that person/animal/inanimate object. permission is given to weep, become nostalgic, listen to cheesedick love songs and brood during this process. 

step two: delete and discard found memories expect for the one memory that reminds you of them the most. 

step three: take that memory and either give it to a trustworthy friend, place it in a chest and give the key to a trustworthy friend. find any effective means of removing this memory from your sight and possession to someone you know will not cave in and give you it back when you're screaming from the other end of a telephone line. 

step four: write three letters (length is not salient). title each "dear past you" "dear present you" and "dear future you" respectively. do not forget to add your goodbyes and goals of "getting over."

step five: purchase wine and create a bonfire. invite best friends. 

step six: read aloud "dear past you" do not record this moment. there must not be another memory created in the process of eradicating another memory. 

step seven: tear and burn "dear past you." in bonfire. celebrate with favourite music and more wine. 

step eight: stick "dear present you" on ceiling or wherever you will constantly see it. seal "dear future you" in an envelope and write "do not open until 2015" (or five years from writing letter). 

step nine: lie in bed for half the day. permission to grieve again. alcohol is also permitted. you may NOT write anything about them while this is happening.

step ten: take a walk outside or do something solitary but what you find personally enjoyable.

step eleven: give it time. refrain from speaking or communicating or being in contact with that person/animal/inanimate object until you are in the right state of mind and emotion to do so. 

step twelve: call trustworthy friend and give them the signal "i'm ready to be free." this will indicate to the trustworthy friend that he/she is able to rip THAT final existing memory or throw it away. ps. if you're feeling especially nasty, trustworthy friend may even send the final memory to person/animal/inanimate object.

i dont know if this would ever work in real life. i think its more of a fictional prose then a real life guide. but be free to be my guest and try. drinks on me if it actually does. 

love,

ps. talk about public break up? HAHA

thought #78- same feeling, different people

i like the way you crane your neck and hold your skull, ruffling your tousled locks in the process. i like the way you tap on the desk, like rhythmic pulsation in sync with one's own heartbeat. i like the way your eyes remind me of glass windows that i am ever tempted to throw a stone at and explore inside. i like the way you scribble in your little black book, nod to yourself, hum hum hum, sip your tea, epiphany, scribble and repeat again. i like the way you can spend an entire afternoon with nothing but your holga and a piece of chalk; writing our names on the pavement whilst watching and snapping people tread all over it (that way you know fragments of you and me go wherever that stranger goes too). i like the way you open up ancient atlases, randomly find a location in the world and tell me we'll escape there one day, just the two of us. i like the way you never call but never forget to write me a post-it note on my doorstep. i like the way you like to wear your grandfather's sweater. i like the way you're dishevelled yet sophisticated. i like the way you're one huge irony in human form. i like the way you buy me quirky m quaint ashtrays every time you visit the markets or leave the country, yet refuse to buy me cigarettes. i like the way you purposely say things just to see my face cringe at your horrible romantic notions. i like the way you call me strange names from strange books we read together on a sunny afternoon, reclined on beach chairs and sipping wine. i like the way your face lights up (literally), and your inability to concentrate or sit still when you have something exciting to tell me. i like the way you tell me the truth, like how shit my cooking is, yet still eat it because you know how hard i tried. i like the way we dance in the living room in the dark. i like how you are the greatest, yet so very marred and far from perfect.

i don't like that we share the same feeling. that you can write your own list about someone else other than me...

love,

ps. birthday wish #935737593- a holga! froth haha. 

thought #75- reverse psychology

i think my life literally operates by this theory. i dont think its just a matter of the mind or is limited to chance or coincidence... life is riddled by reverse psychology. i have come to this conclusion through many years of close observations and patterns of existence especially relating to relationships and the perplexing subject of the male species. everytime im slightly more keen, ready, willing to explore a relationship, expectant and secretly thinking to myself "ok, unknown mr. right for me, i'm ready to be found now!" is when no one arrives. its as if all men have deliberately retreated or been sucked in by a black hole or are utterly ka-chh (the sound of whips) by other gorgeous girls who came earlier and charmed the pants off the gorgeous men you thought you perhaps had an iota of a chance with (no matter pathetic and uncalculated you based your fancies upon). then when you are in no position to be given fragments of your heart away, when you do not desire to be tied down to the committed and the potential drama that comes with having a romantic relationship, then they all suddenly appear. perhaps only to torment you at the saddening reality that just because timing is not correct... you will leave this season alone and single and back to square one.

what a vicious cycle. and yes it is a bitch and great big kick in the gonads. but reverse psychology believe it or not may not be fun or appealing or lovely or convenient at the time but have you ever paused to think that... maybe this reverse psychology is a test of building who you are. your character, your ability, your trust and faith? perhaps it is in this taunting game of singleness and the encounters which leave us bruised and abused that we are being refined to withstand and deal with relationships in the future?

i truly agree with the statement that "you know you're ready for a relationship when you've learnt to be single." i think one can only truly value and give wholeheartedly to another once they know what they're giving to others. you must find who you are and who you were called and created to be as an individual loner before you go off trying to collect hearts and piece your own with others in the hope of creating a complete picture of satisfaction and love. its useless to find love if you don't know what it is.

so i guess no matter how shitty reverse psychology can make you feel. its for your own good haha.
oh and btw the hair cut when great. i love crops now. i dont even care about enduring boy jokes, as long as it cuts my morning preparations and allows me to leave the house without use of a blow dryer i am fantastically blessed HAHA oh and colour is going off! tomorrow is the last day already :( but so far the feminine heart is being amplified this weekend! i love the sisterhood :)

love,

thought # 47 *insert awkward silence*

today, whilst flicking through my sacred moleskine, i realised how awkward the word "awkward" was. perhaps its the placement of "w's" or the way it can be articulated in an american (awwwk-werrrd), british (awe-k-were-d) or filipino (owww-k-waaard) accent haha.


anyway, i must say i am fond of awkwardness. i love boys who are subconsciously awkward, those who fumble with their pens and drop things on the floor, those who stutter in conversation and use big words not out of conceit but simply because its within their vocabulary, those who smile and turn away at the mere thought of sharing a mutual awkward silence with someone they adore, those who embrace awkward silences and literally liquidise by the very perfect moment they are in. those who laugh at their awkwardness and cherish others. those are the kind of awkward encounters i like. yes there are awkwards that make you feel uncomfortable, that make you desperate with feeble attempts at alibis to remove you from the situation. and the worst of them all are the boys who try to be awkward because they know girls dig it.


you're either awkward or you're not. you're either michael cera cute, nerdy, hesitant but brilliant. or you're another dick who wears glasses even though he doesnt need them and sleazily tries to pick you up with "I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I bet I can make your Bed Rock." HAHA so i dont know about you, but awkwardness isn't all too bad. socially-awkward people are usually the most amazingly, intriguing and sweet people you will meet. now to find my "awkward silence" boy... or perhaps he already exists in my world and i am just yet to realise his presence? *insert awkward silence* :)


love,

ps. this made me laugh uncontrollably haha. 

thought #29- where's my michael cera?

so tonight was spent engaging in another awkward, quirky, michael ceraesque film- nick and norah's inifinite playlist- which i must say was splendid, uncomfortable but sappy in totality. i think im beginning to gain a penchant for michael cera and his roles/movies which involve him as the stereotypical geeky, socially-awkward, not gorgeous but unconventionally cute male protagonist who's heart is broken then mended by another slightly left- of-centre girl with a shared commonality such as music in this case or a growing foetus (in juno) haha.

so he's not james franco, james dean, aaron johnson (and the list potentially continues perpetually) amazing, but he does have that attractive, kooky personality that i adore in boys (i know not to all haha). something that makes you ngaw uncontrollably and feel pathetic without having to gag at yourself (well not as much as the regular). so where does michael cera indulging lead to?

nothing really, except that i should urge us all to find our michael ceras in life. well if your anything like twisted old me, you wouldn't even bother with the pursuit and just wait and see. i guess this boils down to discernment. sometimes we get caught up with the momentary madness, the transitory ecstacy and the rendevouz- like fling to conveniently forget about the future. i can honestly say at this point in time, i am in this position. it feels like i am at the crux of a michael cera vs. (who's a hot jerk in a movie? can't think...) in life. and i am not merely confining this to love, but life in general.

so change may be splendid but it can also lead us to danger. sometimes we may get distracted by the flurries and hurries of our life to lose focus upon our michael ceras... the little less appealing, AWKWARD people/moments/extensions of your life. i dont know if im making sense here, probably not because as we speak i am very apprehensive about receiving my hsc marks tomorrow and moreso freaking out about the atar rank the day after. God, please help me haha.

p.s. michael cera, this post was not really about you. you were another twisted analogy. but i still think you're adorable anyway.

love

p.s. written on december 15 2009