at present,

love is an annihilation of self.

On Pain

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.
Khalil Gibran

; amen.

as soon as i can

And did you miss me while you were looking at yourself out there

Listening: Drops of Jupiter by Train

Unintended by Muse

I told Sheila today. Should I have? I was thinking that, Father, I shouldn’t share. Because it would only make it worse. I suppose it isn’t real. How can it when I know as well as you that I’m not ready? But I don’t like the sickly greenbrown emotions raw and pulling my heart down to the emptiness of a void i need to let you fill.

But i hate it that it can be so real. How temptation rang in my head, and echoed in my dreams the night after. After the. Well, time.

Oof. Who am I to call upon love. I will love the one who brings me daisies from the prairie.

I hope we’ll be able to go Orlando with the boys in December. Fine. Hazel and the Boys, Becky and I. Hahaha. They take splendid pictures (PHOTO ALBUM!!) and sit roller coasters (WHEE!!). (:

oh these sickening love lines.

you are my unintended;

Ill be there as soon as I can
But Im busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

listening to:

Misery Business – Paramore

dumdeedummmdummddumm. i like! I want more of their songs. I also want to go to that t shirt place to GET A BAND T SHIRT!!!!!! AAH.

and i was reading my old old blog posts (2005) where i mentioned everything and anything about my life. uncensored utter CRAP. haha! funny crap! i was laughing at myself and to myself.

oh gosh i sound crazy.

its like the above ramblings, just multiply it, add alot of singlish in there, insert vulgarities. whoopsie doodle.

but like i observed to a friend, i probably were happier and less tied down. I remember danni and I used to go to the gym everyday, eat bananas for recess, and go on the trampoline and have loads of mighty fun.

i miss those times. just the gym, banana, and trampoline part though. nothing much else >< (this is the rude uncensored me talking)

rush;

i just realised how misleading the previous post must have been. hahah.

sometimes people do little things for you and you don’t know what big big big great big a something it is to you. big big big. (: really big.

i received something from my teacher today (he does it for everyone) but for that few seconds, or few minutes, i don’t know, my heart felt too big for my chest. It meant alot to me so thankyou.

Sometimes serendipity gets handed to you in a martini glass.

i like hugging my friend’s tummy. i don’t know why. hahaha. maybe because i like being taken care off. haha. gosh. why am i saying these things??

i need more of these take-my-breath-away kinda stuff. actually i can’t say i need more of those. But Thank you Lord because these magical things make life, well, larger than life. and i had two in one day.

but enough with lovey dovey misleading business. i shan’t mention it.!

oh the confusion. haha.

hi dino, vivermo.

inertia clings on me like a sleeve, wrecks me like a disease.

and we crawl through dirt and mud to live. for that moment, everything falls away, and we are on all fours, we pant, we tear, we feel the collapsing world- real, the prickling pain, the draining hope, the fading of everything. and we say simply, we beg, we scream to drown out the wild deafening voices in our ears, GOD, I WANT TO LIVE.

primal. its a matter of survival. because sometimes life manifests itself as a hollow void, and we have nothing. we feeling nothing. we are nothing.

answers? i have none.

i struggle with my own heart beating, and holes that continuously form that never really get filled. people come people go, feelings that used to kill because they were so so real, those begin to bluff too.

sometimes i feel my heart is bigger than my chest. when i see you i can go on running and pushing forward. you hold my thoughts i can’t feel my feet. Is that love? Or is it when i imagine him thinking about another and pain sears through my being. Or when i see him smiling back at me on the computer screen. Ha.

teenagers.

i am.

dear dino, vivermo.  ha promesso.

we all do what we think is best.

ahah! i’m going to help my sister in her literature. Character analysis. Secondary school lit was an enjoyable writing experience. You write and write on the same things over and over and over again. Of Mice and Men, Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. I loved comparing characters and writing about them. Although I do remember one really redundant exercise of finding out which star signs were most suitable for the characters. I don’t believe in them. I didnt believe in that exercise either.

Today I used ‘Unknown Girl in the Maternity Ward’ by Anne Sexton, and ‘Disappeared’ by Boey Kim Cheng – comparing and contrasting how both poems portray loss as a universal experience. I panicked!! rawr. I cannot really remember the first question. Hermm. Nah, I can’t remember. I think I’m slowly being trained to come up with words fast. FAST FAST FAST like UNDER AN HOUR FAST! ahaha. and i felt so much pain today i thought i was going to die. then it disappeared without much thought, bearing me away so suddenly I felt almost empty.

i’m still trying to paste together jigsaws of feelings slithery emotions jagged memories, ticklish punchlines, little 5 second peeks, wanting to give you so much more and what it all means. what we mean. What do you mean? are you happy? are you happy happy happy happy happy? think about her if she makes your heart sing.

we all do what we must.

must do, me, let you go. it isn’t really lost, but is it? losing a part of you that never was yours in the first place, but it sneaked behind and clamped itself around your heart. Fusion? maybe not. just illusion, delusion, oh i don’t care. you shouldn’t either.

think about her if she makes your heart sing.

i will sing for you if she doesn’t.

stop.

Listening:

Histoire du Tango: Concert d’Aujoud’hui by Slava Grigoryan

hi. hahahaha.

sorry. i finished my physics. but i’m appalled. i havent started packing my room!! I’ve been moaning and groaning to sheila about the state of my shelves and tables reflecting the state of my mental health (its true). When i pack, sit down, plan, and do proper QT – means i’m sane and reliant on God.

i’m not now. i shall do it tmrw with my tuition homework. I need to sleep. i’m tired. haha. 3 hours of Grey’s Anatomy (EDUARDO THERE ARE NO SUBTITLES =.=) and piano practicing, because i needed some release muahaha. =) boy its getting fun.

The problem is, my piano is located in the middle of nowhere. in between TV area and dining table. And because of the low ceiling, noise is like compressed (am i using the right terms?). In addition, my piano produces very clear (sharp) sounds, so when i play loudly, my family members will complain incessantly about how loud, how noisy, how sharp and painfully grating it is. Hahaha.

Can you imagine, if I, in the future, say want to take the VIOLIN? Hahha. (:

Nah guitar sounds nice. But its so common. Well, i’ll see which sings, then I’ll decide!

I HAVEN’T DONE CHINESE AT ALL. OH MANNN.

die.

but its okay. i miss you danni. i wanna go out. MOVIE I AM MOVIE HUNGRY.

we’ll see if time weathers the reasons away 40months;

Can you hear all I feared

and never dared to write?

Listening to:

Computer whirring, cracking keyboards and the sister silence.

Thinking of:

Reading

The Two
by Philip Levine

When he gets off work at Packard, they meet

outside a diner on Grand Boulevard. He’s tired,

a bit depressed, and smelling the exhaustion

on his own breath, he kisses her carefully

on her left cheek. Early April, and the weather

has not decided if this is spring, winter, or what.

The two gaze upwards at the sky which gives

nothing away: the low clouds break here and there

and let in tiny slices of a pure blue heaven.

The day is like us, she thinks; it hasn’t decided

what to become. The traffic light at Linwood

goes from red to green and the trucks start up,

so that when he says, “Would you like to eat?”

she hears a jumble of words that mean nothing,

though spiced with things she cannot believe,

“wooden Jew” and “lucky meat.” He’s been up

late, she thinks, he’s tired of the job, perhaps tired

of their morning meetings, but when he bows

from the waist and holds the door open

for her to enter the diner, and the thick

odor of bacon frying and new potatoes

greets them both, and taking heart she enters

to peer through the thick cloud of tobacco smoke

to the see if “their booth” is available.

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that there were no

second acts in America, but he knew neither

this man nor this woman and no one else

like them unless he stayed late at the office

to test his famous one liner, “We keep you clean

Muscatine,” on the woman emptying

his waste basket. Fitzgerald never wrote

with someone present, except for this woman

in a gray uniform whose comings and goings

went unnoticed even on those December evenings

she worked late while the snow fell silently

on the window sills and the new fluorescent lights

blinked on and off. Get back to the two, you say.

Not who ordered poached eggs, who ordered

only toast and coffee, who shared the bacon

with the other, but what became of the two

when this poem ended, whose arms held whom,

who first said “I love you” and truly meant it,

and who misunderstood the words, so longed

for, and yet still so unexpected, and began

suddenly to scream and curse until the waitress

asked them both to leave. The Packard plant closed

years before I left Detroit, the diner was burned

to the ground in ’67, two years before my oldest son

fled to Sweden to escape the American dream.

“And the lovers?” you ask. I wrote nothing about lovers.

Take a look. Clouds, trucks, traffic lights, a diner, work,

a wooden shoe, East Moline, poached eggs, the perfume

of frying bacon, the chaos of language, the spices

of spent breath after eight hours of night work.

Can you hear all I feared and never dared to write?

Why the two are more real than either you or me,

why I never returned to keep them in my life,

how little I now mean to myself or anyone else,

what any of this could mean, where you found

the patience to endure these truths and confessions?

what do we do now?

We Your people turn to you.

‘I see a generation, rising up to take their place,

in selfless faith,

selfless faith…’

you.

listening: Stop and Stare – One Republic

Feeling: Sleepy

I ‘m feeling like I want to go get band shirts from Peninsula. Wherever Amanda and the others got their’s from. And get one for Yi Ying too. And my mum. And my dad. And my sister.

i don’t like being confused. Haha. And tired. And looking pimply and contemplating about what i’m going to do if i fail physics and math.

i love you Lord. i’m just losing touch.