Bonfire night

loose ends are meant to be burned, not tied.
they were romanticized by the written word - simply for the fact that it was not oral, vocalized, nor wantonly discarded into the thinness of the air. never trust a smooth talker, they believed. writing lent itself to some semblance of permanence. accountability, at the very least.
he rifled his fingertips through the box of letters - a portrait of their passion and pain spilt onto plain stationary in blue, black, and sometimes lavender gel ink - she once said it was pretty. the letters spoke of the volumes that existed between them, now brittled and yellowed by the years. more recently, the heartache had finally bore through her worn, tattered patience for sentimentality until all that remained were the straggling threads of indifference. I held the box up.

what shall we do with these?

burn them, she stated. i want you to freakin' burn them.

Okie..lets have a bonfire then tonight!! Last night in Newcastle will see us both skipping around a huge pile of sentimental burnt belongings. Brrrr...what a way to warm up for winter!

Skeletons in the closet

It seems like everyone is doing this recently and it looks like fun! Unfortunately I was not tagged (boo you guys! boo!) But Imma do it anyways XD. So without further adeu, here' some things about me that you otherwise would not have known:

1.) sincerely like rainy, cloudy, thundering days. I enjoy rain on the windows panes and driving in the rain. If I am in bed, I will lie awake hearing the pitter patters of rain on the roof. and i always hope a rainy day comes with the whole monty - thunder and lightning. not so much of lightning but very much of the clapsing of thunder. People think I am depressed but really I am happiest when it rains. I just like how soothing and calming rainy days are.

2.) I prefer winters and fall over summer and spring. Not because I like snow or crunchy leaves but mostly because I like winter clothing =P. I just prefer wearing jackets, coats, sweaters and long sleeved clothing over t-shirts and shorts. I also like the longer days than the sun. Its odd considering i grew up in a tropical country where it is summer a year long. but i simply love the idea that the nights are longer than the days. i feel safer in my own home when its dark and cold rather than sunlight and all..creepy? i know...hmmm

3.) I like to go places in my head. I have a very vivid imagination and when I get bored I like to zone out and have little adventures in my head. I even numerous imaginary alter-egos. People think I am in deep contemplation or thought, meanwhile I am in the arms of a prince charming of a far far away land and exploring the universe in a space-ship. The problem is that I do it so much that sometimes I get confused and mix up my imaginary alter-ego adventures with real life. Some say this is the beginning of insanity and schizophrenia...I say "Huh? What? Sorry, I was someplace else..."

4.) Before I considered a law degree, I seriously considered a various whole other professions that had my parents banging their heads against the wall. Amongst them, i wanted to be a forensic pathologist, not just any normal doctor or surgeon, i just love the idea of being with dead people and cutting them up. not now though. as i grew older and more 'mature' i realised no boys would be interested in dating a girl who spends so much time running her hands on a dead person.
People are surprised by my mixture and sometimes seemingly conflicting sets of skills and talents. I think it makes me well rounded, but because I was so spread out in my early years I am like a jack of all trades and no master in any. I personally think I am a bit of an anomaly personality wise. Some aspects of me are just not congruent with each other. I really enjoy meeting other people, who like me, are not what they seem and have layers of hidden meaning and depth.

5.) I played the piano and a little of the violin when i was growing up. and in all my oral exams whereby i had to sing, i failed them - ALL completely. i must be pretty tone deaf or somehow, i am musically challenged. i would love to play the cello though my fingers are too short and small to hold on to the strings. same reason why i never attempted to play the guitar. i just had short fingers that were never meant for any musical instruments. Bah!

6.) I am a pretty open-minded girl overall but I just can't do vegetarian. Once in college there was this cute guy who was interested in me. However after a date or so, I found out he was vegetarian and I just stopped calling. Dinner was at a sushi place. I ordered sushi, he ordered nothing...sorry sweetie, it's not you, it's your stomach.

7.) I always fall in love with the bad boys. the one who has a bad past. the one who is messed up. the one who drives fast cars and never give a damn in the world. they are fast and furious boys. the ones you glance at, let your heart regale silly in them but never the ones you will date. i like the idea they had once been naughty and it kinda make them damn sexy. well..they are the boys you party around but never the ones you bring home to meet your parents kinda boy.

8.) I have a ballerina flats fettish. everytime i walk into a shoe store, i will go gaga over those shoes and i am left to making tough decisions. some are so bloody expensive it can go to buy a kidney for a dialysis patient and some can feed a small third world nation. someone then reminded me i have only a pair of feet and a 100 pairs of ballerina flats is an utter waste of money simply because i will not transform or evolve to be a caterpillar.

Now that you've learnt my dirty little secrets - i must make sure you run into my knife the next time i see you!

Pondering Christmas thoughts...

This year all I want for Christmas is a magical one. A magical wand waved over the holiday season and let all the sparkles and delights of magical cheer fall like snow flakes on me. Its been a tumultuous week for me. Having serious work deadlines to commit to and a whole series of unfortunate, or rather, traumatic events befall upon me. Sometimes I wish God would allow my life to be like filming a movie whereby He booms from above - 'take two' whenever a 'not so good take' happens. On many things, there is no re-filming of a terrible act but for Christmas, you possibly could have 'take two'. If last year's Christmas was a whole big mess - can this year be a better one? a second round of helping of christmas pressies and festive goodness, perhaps?

Can this Christmas be my second take on a Christmas romance? 

Distance has taken a toll on many things. its a killer of a many good things. a silent killer that creeps up on you during the night, put a pillow over whatever tingamagically good in your life and muffle it to death without you ever realizing. at least, so for me. Every time I find someone who makes the rhythmic beats of my heart play a slow duet, distance has to appear and take it away from me. In just less than a week, I lost the reason I was going home to or rather, I find myself slipping away from the fingers or passion from the person I was going home to. It became oddly cold. just like the winter wind. If I knew - if only I had found a fortune cookie that told me my allotted time - would I have live or cherish this short-lived romance in a different way? would i waste less time? would I carpe diem - seize the day(s) I had with him? REALLY? 

I daresay I would still have think of him as another pretty face. and I would still not text him or rang him insanely because my womanly conscience of 'the guy should make the first move if he is interested in you' still triumphs over. But I'd have learn to relax more around him. laugh, cry, sob, be softer when I still have his attention. try not to be so tough. let him in abit more on the softy side of me. would that have scared him off? frightened him and send him running for the hills? i don't know but i would have done that and at least I know - i have given him and myself and us the chance to know the person in me. it wasn't that i wasn't me before. i just was tougher. braver. stronger. which really doesn't depict the true me. would I have love better? definitely! would i have love him more - i don't think i can possibly love more than i already had. 

Some people think while they ran. I think better when I shower. the rain of waters on my skin gives me the peace i need to send me brains running. the neurons works more rationally. with my eyes close, i see clearer. its a calming sensation that sends me spiraling to a world of my own. washing all my worries down the pipe hole. leaving only good vibes and a fresher me. i had lots brainstorming sessions in my shower. its where i found the valiancy to speak in my advocacy classes, the ideas to surprise whats-his-face, the little crooks and canny of myself that i needed answers to, and most of all - the duet to my hearts song. 

was i too weak for my own good as mummy had told me one night? will i always be in search of someone to share my thoughts with, to fill that lonely heart, to just squabble and chatter away with? have i been asking too much that sometimes my academic achievements and archives of snobbishness has over taken the little timid person i am inside? i truly don't want just anyone to fill the shoes of special someone. i want someone special to call my own. everyone can be a good boyfriend, but it takes someone special to be your soul mate. someone who lights up my eyes like christmas lights, someone who will be the gentlest critic of my often lack of judgment, someone to guide me, someone that i can see my soul dancing with. 

will this Christmas just be a lonely one where that someone special cannot possibly make it due to the heavy snow or christmas traffic? 

This Christmas, as I pray for the magical dust to fall on everyone out there I also pray that it will be a Christmas different from the less. More special, more excitement, more thrill and thrall, and most of all - more of others rather than yourselves. So while you:

1.)binge on all the turkey and cranberry that can last you till next spring;

2.) tear open your christmas presents like a manically three year old while squealing in delight;

3.) ride the sleighs on a frosty winter night with ruldolph;

4.) drink and gurgle all the sparkling wine, champagne and 101 other different alcohol;

5.) party like there is no tomorrow dress up in red and green;

6.) sing all the christmas chorus till your voice is hoarse;

you will also meet that someone special under the mistletoe! 

Its no harm wanting to believe in a little magic, I guess - TAKE TWO - Have yourself a Magical wondrous Christmas time!!

A touch of London

The winter wind stung at my face. chilly. cold. freezing. As I buttoned up my coat to venture further, I cannot help but feel my emotions change. All my fuzzy warm feelings of sitting by the fireplace with my hot cocoa is now replaced with cold wind and eerie creepy silence. Its all so surreal. having come back to face the gloomiest season of the year. to ride in london's tube and reminscence of the times I had someone by my side to chatter and banter with. to remember the lonely walks back to my warm hut, leaves crunching underneath my boots and creepy shadow following me in the dark. waiting to pounce on me. a jack the ripper thrill. ignorant of the dangers that lurk around for i was too busy concentrating on the intensity of winter air that is bitting into my skin.

The lights of london dances with excitement in front of my eyes. mesmerising me. holding my breath hostage at the magical sight of christmas lightings. I knew at that instance that there are somethings my heart cannot reason with. its a thrilling chase and a wondrous time to be back here. to have come close and yet not able to have it in the palms of my hand. i know how complete my heart is when im back in london. its a feeling that no words can describe. as though as the darkness and emptiness has been shone at and filled with the hustle bustle of city life. the craziness and the hype of being in one of the most happening capital of the world.

My journey ends a week from now. to give up the yearnings of my heart and to move back home is something i never prepared myself for. i am sailing out into an unknown sea again whereby not knowing when i am going to see this land again. the vibrant metropolis. the city that shook my love for it. keeping me coming back for more.

When William Wordsworth wrote "Upon London Bridge" he could never have imagined that it could become even more beautiful.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)Composed on Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!


Having felt it, touch it, lie beside it and live in it awhile, London is like a big dream come true. a dream that I never want to wake up from.

(NB: photographs are taken by London Photographer, Jason Hawkes, from a helicopter at night. From Jason: "Shooting aerial photography during the daytime had its own difficulties, you are strapped tightly into a harness leaning out of the helicopter, shouting directions through the headsets to the pilot. If shooting in the day can be difficult, night and the lack of light causes its own set of problems, but overcoming them is half the fun and the results can be stunning. I shoot at night using the very latest digital cameras, mounted on either one or two gyro stablazied mounts, depending on the format of the camera and length of lens I'm having to use.")

Love begins with the letter L

We cannot really love anybody with whom we never laugh with. and whenever the future hinges on an unknown cliff, don't let logic interfere, let your heart do the thinking and the talking, let the whispers of your heart guide you. I, for one have became an incredulous personage of this whole 'believe your heart instead' kinda business when it comes to love. but the heart often has reasons that reason cannot know. Be still my heart. Lately its starting to have a mind of its own. It can go far and wide just to be near the one I love. One's darnesdest to stop it from doing things like that is futile. As hard as I may try to deny, the supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved.

You remember last when it was like to speak to that special someone. that person who holds the key to your heart. once unlock, it unleashes a multidinous of symptoms of being in love. that one person in your life is enough. you do not need a populous of minions to make you smile. that one person who knows how to make you smile. the rights words to say. the right things to do. just being there listening, learning, looking, loving, lamentating, living - all for you.

its shaming not many share your deepen love. its a secret you feel embarass to let others know. your little secret that you are too shy to share. afraid others will poke fun at your heart. fragile as your emotions may be, its easily break-able. you cant have a serious relationship until you let this immaginery one go. its a fleeting moment of here and there. to let go and live for the now instead of hoping of what tomorrow may bring and the endless list of what-if(s). if you think your unfilled love is romantic, think deeper. its irresponsible. its not allowing yourself a chance to know the world. its closing the doors on others to love you.

someone once said, "if you want to work on something: write a book, record a song, build a fucking bridge. do something productive. contribute to society. relationships are a type of ostentatious masturbation - we only serve ourselves. and in the end, everyone settles for less than perfection and all we're left with is a sticky mess that no one wants to clean up".

it's funny you say that, i replied. because no matter how hard we try to be different, we still end up living life according to platitudes. there's just too many of them out there. for instance, i'm now coveting what i don't have... but i'm not going to deny myself that feeling.

just like some of you are there, sometimes i deny my heart the opportunity to love another. i build a wall to keep others from penetrating it. like a safe deposit. a stealth. a strong wall of steal that keeps robbers away. robbers with no mercy who will take my heart away and boil it in soup on a winters day.

don't ever let them have it, you tell yourself. keep telling yourself that and you will never taste the sweetness of real life romance. wake up and smell the roses today. this very moment. do it!

Smile baby smile

The Landlord by Will Ferrell

From the eyes of a little chicken

views and perspectives - it all just changes at the drop of a hat. maybe it was a blustering gust. or perhaps it was the gentle lull of a whispering wind over time. but just like that, you realize, and everything changes.

views and perspectives. they're every bit as capricious as the motion of air.your views are schematic. and schemas are snapshots - opinions formed at a point in a certine line of time. points, fortunately or unfortunately, are ephemeral. time moves on. we move on. lines become wiggles. block lettering becomes scribbles. and the clarity that was so cleanly laid out now becomes chaos. everything changes.

ah, but it's a matter of perspective. we all have changing perspectives. we label it hindsight. or we call it growth. it's social evolution. we prefer to regard it as advancement. is it really?perspectives are like weather patterns. they may be cyclical, but you can't track them over lengthy periods of time. they're impossible to predict. simply put, you can't trust them. what you think you know is what you don't. reality is an overcast sky. everything is washed away in a sea of grey.


he called me with an emergency. that was his perspective and i had mine. unfortunately, our vantage points were not the same. but for the moment, i entertained his perspective. i obliged and checked my texts. call it obedience or call it curiosity. i did what i was told. if it was a true emergency, why would you text me as opposed to tell me over the phone? perhaps it was more curiosity.

he texted a loaded question. loaded questions bear loaded answers. and like most times, i didn't have the time. but this time, my reason was legit. i was crossing a busy highway. texting while crossing a busy motorway was probably more dangerous than drinking and driving. but i obliged and replied that i'd respond later when i had more time and wasn't trying to cross roads.

he wanted a response now. yes or no. it was so very typical. nevermind my present circumstances, he had an "emergency" at hand and he expected me to tend to it. his supposed emergency was more important than my well-being. it was all very familiar and all very...selfish.

then the follow-up text came: my relationship hangs in the balance.it suddenly made sense. he was looking to me for support. he was looking for me to jump on his side. i stopped at the nearby bus stop and called him. i'm not sure why i did. i should have just ignored him. his current relationship had no bearing on me. i should not be getting involved. and that's basically what i said to him. i wasn't going to answer his question because it was irrelevant. my answer should have no bearing on their relationship.


the problems that exist between two people exist only between those two people. what right did he and her have in roping me, his ex-crush, into an argument that they were having? over my well-being. and over my friends' well-being. and most importantly, over something so petty, so trivial to others. it was plainly selfish.

selfish. selfish. selfish. i'm not sure when it happened, but that became my schema of him. i realize that this perspective is wrong and it probably isn't fair.it's funny because i used to adore him. i placed him upon a pedestal where he could do no wrong. and i would do anything for him. but then things changed. perhaps i wasn't fair. no one can live up to those standards. yet, i can't place whether it was a gradual realization or a sudden conclusion. but like looking through saffron-tinted glasses, my view of him became tainted in this light. and like most selfish people, i approach with caution and handle with care.


it's a self-preservation mechanism really.consideration would have dictated that they postpone their argument for a better time. in that sick, twisted space of my mind, i wished for something morbid. i wished for an accident. would he view his "emergency" in a different light? would that finally change the perspective of their disagreement?i can only wonder...

Futile Attraction

I made an astonishing discovery when web-surfing. I read with much amusement on what this guy had to say. Argh, make me wanna smack the living daylights out of him. Here goes nothing...

It’s always bad news whenever I start liking a girl. As someone who is unattractive in every sense of the word, I only fall for women who are astronomically out of my league. And when I start to like one of these outrageously unattainable women, I immediately stop being myself. This is usually a good thing, generally speaking, because who I am isn’t really all that exciting or interesting. However, what happens when I like a girl is that I try to become someone who I think she will like, and this is where I always fail. Instead of turning into a smooth, silver-tongued Casanova, I turn into an inarticulate blubbering monster, and women aren’t usually attracted to those things. But sometimes the girl sees through my charade and begins to like me for who I genuinely am. When this happens I kind of lose a little respect for the girl and start to not like her, as this shows that she clearly hates herself, has no standards, and probably lives a reckless life. It is unattractive to be attracted to me.

I always feel sorry for a girl when I start to like her. No matter what happens, she's going to lose.

"Argh - slap!!"

Another prolix entry

In the space between yes and no, there's a lifetime . It's the difference between here and there, when and where and the path you walk and one you leave behind; its the gap between who you thought you could be and who you really are; its the legroom for the lies you'll tell yourself in the future.

I for one, given my hollistic education abroad in a course that many child habours dreams of pursuing, have been exposed to many decision making process. Decisions that will and can distinguish me between a girl and a woman, a child and an adult, a layman and a professional and above all, a victim or a survivor. The boundaries of my life in an artist impression will be blurry chalky lines around every area.

Not just sketchy. But hazy. A smear painting. It was as if I was lost and unsure. Uncertain and most of all, unable to draw affirmation of what is good and bad for me. I have made decisions based on my inability to say no, incompetence to reject others, ineptitude to walk out of people's life, and my own frailty to hurt people whom I loved. Their feelings, their well being often come first before me in major issues. I just couldn't find the heart to say No. i was afraid of the faux pas of disappointment. the solecism of hurt. the transgression that will might lead to anger. and the pain i will bring if i did not condone to their interest.

So, what good is my trust fund education? 5 years in law school meant alot to me. It was years of sacrifice, giving up the goodness of weekend nights life, sheer hardwork and the determination to graduate. I didn't know how I made it but eventually I did. In those 5 years, I was a butterfly emerging from her cocoon. I indoctrinated myself with noble prize principles. I promise myself that this is the time I have to learn how to say no to all the yummy invites to party my heart out, to say no to those who wants to 'copy' my work, and to put myself first when it comes to my studies. It was beyond a shadow of doubt that I found light again in my darkness. And finally I could emerge victorious and announce - this is me!

Even if things seem to far for you, you always have to believe in yourself. That is most important. You owe it to yourself to have a better life. do not be trapped behind your curtains of hair. let the light shine on your face. give it a chance. if you have a dream inside of you, let it show. don't be afraid - just go chase after your rainbow dreams.

Be still my heart

Text buddy a.k.a Munchkin leaves for Bangalore, India today. It has been 3 months of endless clicking on our mobile phones just to stay in touch with each other. A whole season of loneliness. A draught of hugs, kisses and physical presence. We shared a bond over the summer in England. A friendship forged so tightly that no one can penetrate it, let alone the distance, the time difference, and the hype of myriad social activies that surrounded us. He is like the secret keeper to my fears, my dreams, my hopes and my psychotic-ness. I am his cupcake. The one he text when he needs someone to keep him grounded on the craziness around him, the one he flips his moblie open to contact whenever something eats into him and the one he holds dear in his heart - or at least so I like to imagine. In his words, " remember, no country is a barrier to our love. only brings us closer "!I wouldnt agree more.

We probably make a very odd 'couple'. We share a love that doesnt need explanation. Just two less lonely people in the world who found the missing pieces of their life.

Winter is cold without his embrace. Our summer's love, autumn solitude, winter's hope and joy of spring. I only have one advise for him when he leaves for India, 12.99 now is better than a lifetime of 12.99. Nothing could be more important that the box of 12.99 - not distilled water, not beer, not anything. zilch. I, for one, knows better. the passion of india is another heaven for banging galore. the munchkin I 'love' so dear certainly will blow away all the dark colour people with his yellow charisma.

In his last text, he prayed "God give me the will to forget, courage to find new, strength to move on, faith to be strong. Amen" Amen to that. I am sure there will be a sign of the rose when your prayer is granted. Wherever you are, my thoughts are with you. my heart yearns for a christmas with thee and thou art will always be my lord for i am your lady.

In a while, in a word,Every moment now returns.For a while, seen or heard,How each memory softly burns. Facing you who brings me new tomorrows,I thank God for yesterdays,How they led me to this very hour,How they led me to this place...Every touch, every smile,You have given me in care. Keep in heart, always I'll,Now be treasuring everywhere. And if life should come to just one question, Do I hold this moment true? No trace of sadness, Always with gladness...'I DO...'

Till our solemn promise of a reunion is fulffiled - have a safe flight. stay away from the pipe water and hopefully you wont be on marathon runs to the toilet. whenever you find yourself lost, be still and know that He is God!! His hands are on you and may His blessings shower upon you like rain. Amen!!

Not just another pretty face

When Mr.lyricist wrote the song 'Beautiful Soul' sang by the ever so gorgeous Jesse McCartney, I am sure he wasn't thinking of Jesse's pretty face. Singing the song word for word, ( I used to mumble the lines I don't know and sing out loud the only line I knew from the song - "I want you and your beautiful soul") dawned upon me that Mr.lyricst must be sick of dating just girls whose beauty is just skin deep. Ugly goes deep down to the bone. I am so glad I am beautiful inside out. I have eyes that glow like fireflies, eyelashes that flutters sexily, teeth that deserves to be on adverts for toothpaste, skin that oils up so much you can probably fry an egg with it and most of all, a heart that melts easily.

When God wrote my love story, He must have thought, 'Oh well, I am going to pull her legs and bless her with the unexpected'. I felt like Belle in Beauty and the Beast. It has been awhile I had stop caring whether or not the boy who cheated on me got his comeuppance. I just wanted to move on. And move on did i. It was truly a breakthrough for me. From wondering for months in the dessert, I was emerging out of the oasis of revenge is power to the promised land of God is in control of everything. Somewhere along the journey, I met pretty face. He struck me as just another pretty face. another guy in my life I would most probably forget 2 months down the line. Somewhere in between of our little laughs, our small talks, our tennis sessions, our taunting of each other - I fell in love. There's something sweet and almost kind. But he was mean and now he's dear. I wonder why I didn't see it there before. I had to slap myself back to reality on a few occasions when I caught myself behaving like a lovestruck teenager. Laughing like a hyena at his jokes. Acting weebit like a maniac on crack when around him. Blushing, sweating, heart thumping - all signs of a heart attack. and I am only so young. 20 to be exact.

New and bit alarming. Who would ever thought that this could be? True, there's no prince charming. But there's something in him that i simply didn't see. He joins the leagues of close male compatriots who gets my jokes and embrace my silliness. The only thing that sets him apart from the rest is that my heart palpitates everytime I see him or talk to him and my heart seems to skip a beat of disappointment everytime I don't. The question that now remains is that - how do we keep the passion going when I am 2 oceans apart? Does absence makes the heart grow fonder or does it make the heart wander. Absence does to love what the wind does to a fire. It keeps the strong burning stronger and extinguishes the weak. What are we then since I barely....hardly know Pretty face. His name stops at two syllabus. His first name and his surname. He probably has a middle name, a last name, another english name and a whole lots of other names. but I only know two. Pretty general ain't it?

Being apart for awhile gives me space and fresh air to fill my lovestruck brains. It enables me to be more rational. It provides me with the time I need to think through what I seek from pretty face. A week apart from Pretty face left me with this in my head. I miss him more than I thought I would. I try to cram him in my tight schedule so I could 'bum' into him online or rather much to my amusement, also allowed him to 'stalk' me online. I am such a tactless person when it comes to falling in love. i often go headlog without thinking much of the repercussions of a head injury or shall I say, 'heart injury'. I am most afraid after what I was put through the last few months, to put myself out there and be vulnerable to another heart break. What if pretty face doesn't feel the same? What if I am just travelling on this highway of love all by myself? one way traffic perhaps? All the what if(s) and open possibilities to be hurt. I refuse to set myself up for disappointment. I just simply lack the courage and strength in me..even if God granted - I have a heart that its still on loan. I cannot afford to lose it and not get it back again.

I do know what I want from Pretty face. Don't take my heart and leave me in misery.

I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul

I don't wanna waste your time
Do you see things the way I do
I just wanna know if you feel it too
There is nothing left to hide

I can't possibly say the other parts of this song fits into my mind. Cause' I am not desperate enough to sing, "Baby do you think you could want me too!". So Lord, hear my prayer. I am leaving this feeling of gushy mushiness at the cross. You decide. You play the cards for me. You write my love story for me.

Northern beauty at a glance

STOP AND STARE

(blessed I was with such picturesque view for my academic years in England - its the place where I realised my dreams and fell in love. I lived my life out of a postcard here)

I am afterall, just a sunflower

They say God won't give you more than you can handle, but I've got a question: Why would God let you suffer in the first place?

They also say you get over your grieft, but you don't really, not ever. It comes back sometimes. My recovery plan is not foolproof exactly. This is one of the reasons I never try to rob a bank, as tempting as it is. simply because I know I lack precision in concocting a flawless plan - im a bad planner. horrible at organising. terrible at running a choreography. i am bound to stuff up. get caught. thrown into jail. and have my very nicely done orthodontic teeth fall out. something i cannot live with.

I am not as tough as i try to portray. beneath the twinkling eyes, the sheepish smile, the cracklines - is a heart that melts easily. a heart that is squeeshy, soft like a marshmellow. this is why i know right from the start i have little hope at becoming a family lawyer. lack the strength to live through my own trauma what more the melotrauma of others. it will be too heart wrenching. too much drama to take. too many litres of tears to collect.

I used to make bargains with myself. I'd say I can handle the problem, as long as - fill in the blanks here. as long as i can grow. as long as i am not dead. as long as i still get to keep my sparkly orthodontic teeth. as long as my hair doesnt drop. I gave myself a million offers to stay on, push through, triump over it. and then there are the times, behind close down, you will hear my sniffling under my duvet. refusing to give in. stubborn. angry. and most of all, disappointed.

He came along and kept my life grounded. Gave me a thrillion reasons to climb the mountains. Push an inhaler to me palms when im running short of breath. Wrap his arms around me when it got too cold. the smallest thing stop sending me spiralling downwards for he taught me to look beyond the stormy clouds and catch a glimpse of the rainbow. Even after conquering my butterflies, my fears, my mountain...I still like to tell Him - God, next time, I wish you don't trust me so much to handle things. I am afterall, just a sunflower gasping along a winter day.

Goodbye is the hardest word to say

As I pack my bag to leave for England one more time, I am making sure I am packing light. Vowing not to bring my whole room along this time round. Lifting up my luggage to check the weight, my heart felt heavy. Laden with bittersweet memories of 2 months of love, happiness and laughters.

England and I share a love-hate relationship. I love it for its erratic weather and British accent but I hated it for its gloominess and 5 0'clock shops-closing culture. For the duration I was there, I carve a niche at making sure I was never bored, never trapped in a state of loneliness and I filled every waking second with something that will leave memories for me. I blended after awhile, carmouflouge in my posh British accent, suede ballerina flats, UGG boots, leggings, neat winter coats and perfunctory air kisses. The one thing that stood at glaringly against the dark winter days was my yellow skin. I was 10 shades fairer than I was here in the tropical island but I remained unmistakeably yellow. Nevertheless, I taught myself to love England. To focus on the goodness it has to offer. To look for the silver lining. I fell in love after awhile. I was then adamant that I really wanted to stay. Yellow or not, I found reasons to stay.

In early autumn, I boarded an Arabic airline to begin my 30000km home. leaving behind the pompous yellow British wannabe brat behind. Having set my heart that the island has nothing great to offer besides heavenly food, I was reluctant to board my plane. Upon arrival, I was greeted with heavy rainstorms. I was blown away. A shower of heavenly blessings to come home to. Look under every stone, you find a reason to stay. Look inside my heart, you find every reason to smile. Look closely and you will find glittering tears wetting my cheeks. I became once again, attached to home. i was glad to be coming home again. To be among the seas of yellow and not glow like a firefly in the dark.

I came unexpecting anything. barely even hoping. not close to wishing. Then somebody bends, unexpectedly. The sun still rises and sets. but the tale is turning to a fairytale. Finally, I found a place I truly belong. I am blessed to have found you guys, to have found the missing pieces of my heart and most of all, to have found myself again.

Home is truly where the heart is. No matter how far I have gone, how much I have seen, how many I have met, I am finally home. And again, goodbye comes. the solemn promise of a reunion.

A saturday night fever

Saturday night with fellow rudolphians

Why don't they have Hot sizzling Greek man plata on the menu?

Jun-nie-nie - magician in a making

Can you spot the difference?

We believe we can fly!

Wait!! I havent position myself properly on the pole yet

I came first!! take your hands of my girl!
Cupcake like me are freshly made!

Someday my prince will come...

Someone recently said that "Prince Charmings are a dying breed."How true.

I doubt I am the only one who nods in agreement. Prince Charmings are indeed a dying breed, and Princess Charmings as well for that matter. Princes or Princesses presupposes honesty, nobility, selflessness, and love unconditionally – regal behavior on some scale superior to that of the common man.

As for myself, I hardly feel “regal” these days nor “princessy” for that matter. I am fresh out of nobility, no longer care for selflessness, and cannot love in spite of the consequences. Not so long ago that would have been a terribly vindictive thing to say but now this is the simple truth that permeates this lifetime. The real world has no place for Princes.

Difficult to accept I know but for most, whatever princely spirits that laid embedded within us departed along with our youth and our naivety. Do truly pristine people, clear of the tarnishing glaze of history, still exist? Unlikely. True, you will find plenty of them among the youthful but at that age it is difficult to distinguish them from the naïve. I used to find that a difficult statement to swallow simply because of the implications that it meant for myself. Coming to terms with one’s own deficiencies is a difficult thing to bear - especially if that thing is your own arrogance in believing in your own self-superiority. I certainly am not above being naïve. Rather, looking back I would say that I was more naïve than most.

Sounding more vindictive, I know. But to that response I would reply, “such are the simple truths of our times.” It is easy to dispel such statements as the salted words of jaded old men when you are, in fact, one of the naïve. It is so easy to believe in inherent benevolence and moral righteousness when one has not fully experienced malice and injustice. You can make lemonade out of lemons, but what if the world doesn’t even care enough to give you lemons to begin with?We have all lied and have been lied to, cheated and have been cheated on, betrayed and betrayed, and overall mistreated.

Can you truly lament the passing of Princes? Or Princesses for that matter? Are we even deserving of their presence?

Indeed, sometimes I feel as if we do not. One has to merely glance at the recent headlines. Myanmar, Sudan, Iraq, Afaghanistan. We are all casualties of each other – spoiled fruit from the passage of time and mutual neglect.

These words may ring true to you, or they may seem alien and oblique. Worry not, they are merely words. Words are only so good to describe but do so little to help you experience. Naivety is just that – the inability to fully comprehend words of wisdom because of the lack of experience. Words can be so unfulfilling as they may describe but do so little to help you feel what they hope to describe. Words can only communicate so much as to relive memories but are ineffective in instilling new ones. For those of you who have been where I have been, seen what I have witnessed, and experienced what I have felt, I hope these words help you remember.We are all prisoners of our own memories.

The abused will not be so willing to trust again, the misled will not be so willing to believe, and most of all, the broken hearted will not love quite so deeply. Memories are a gilded cage, they protect us from that which would harm us but at the same time they keep us from experiencing that which can only be gained from being vulnerable. Love isn’t love if you can’t accept it or give it freely and openly. Walls keep so much harm from getting in but also keeps you from getting out. Living behind a wall is no way to survive. Being angry all the time is no way to live.

If anything, graduating from college, leaving an old relationship, and severing ties with my past life have taught me to believe in humanity even more. How so you may ask? Simple. We are all kindred souls, each and every one of our lives echo each other’s experiences – beauty, love, faith, wretchedness, spite, and loneliness. I have, in so many short months learned that each and every one of us lives with memories – connections to the past and cages from the future.

Everyone around you lives with something deep in their lives that they are trying to get over. In short, everyone is trying to cope. There are no princes or princesses because there are no perfect people. Everyone has lost and everyone remembers. Those hurdles, be they bumps, hills, or mountains, are owned by and real to the person who faces them. It’s hard being a believer all the time and it takes far more courage even still to be a believer knowing that there is nothing left to believe in.

Keep believing. Tomorrow is not so scary. Tomorrow begins with today. In fact, it starts now, at exactly 12.01 a.m.

The lies others tell us

like little birds, it's the little lies that peck and nip at us. little lies imperceptibly erode and tatter the tensile fabric of trust.

they do not hurt as much as they irk. but little lies are also the tiny shards of shattered glass that pepper a broken path, making the simple act of barefoot travel an arduous task that gradually wears and tears at the soul until treading on the path becomes too painful to bear. alas, over time, it's the little lies that really hurt.

Its the little lies that stays enacted in our memories, in our dreams and in our lives.

The shrapnel embeds deep in our hearts, unable to be remove, leaving us a scar that haunts for as long as we breathe.

like little birds, fluttering and frolicking, it's the little lies that embellish our lives. they add interest to anecdotes, punctuate our punch lines.

we smile. we cherish. it's these little lies that season our taste and sweeten our penchant for life. i suppose, in the end, we all desire to be a little hurt.

-0--0--0--0--0--0--0--0--0--0--

she had tears in her eyes. despite a valiant effort to disguise them with a fleeting smile, the shimmer of lights in the distance revealed her most genuine emotions. the corners of her eyes were the Judas of her cheerful demeanor.

you can always rely on the eyes. i wanted to smile back at her. i stood watching myself.

It was as if my soul was transported out of my body and there was two of me. I wanted to embrace her with hearty guffaws, but the gradual accumulation of tiny crystals of heartache along her eyelid bore a weighty awkwardness.

it was a turgid moment. one where the slightest stimulus could tip the scales into a catharsis of pleasure or of pain. of all things, the tipping point was "the chicken song." and that was enough.

instinctively, she tucked her hands into her arms and bravely flapped the "chicken dance" - all whilst tears streamed down her cheeks from very puffy eyes. it was a bittersweet symphony of movement. and the only thing we both could do in that moment was laugh the heartache away...the heartache that all the lies has brought...

Autumn in my heart

Dusk falls a little earlier these days. the nights grow a little colder, a little longer. i find myself alone more often these days. it doesn't matter if i'm walking alone, or if i'm with him. or even if i'm in a room crowded with the company of others. for loneliness is a state of mind, a room without windows and doors.

it's a place you simply wake up in. the dark bourbon walls. the ashen concrete floors. the cold, crisp, yet stale air. many fall into despair upon no exit in sight. but not me. this is a familiar place. i've been here before. and you must simply wait it out.

There he was, slumped down amid the spent cigarettes of casual conversations strewn across the cold concrete. the last of their lives spent waning out in the cold - petering, puttering until the last glow of warmth and hope gradually fades into the bleak darkness.
He light another up. then look at them. for a moment, he thinks they look forlorn. he thinks of the hundreds of leaves dried inside. the tanned hands who plucked the leaves from the days they sprang from branches. the days they reached out towards the warmth of the sun, dreaming of days when they might become plants on their own - replete with flowers, buds, and leaves of their own.

certainly they did not imagine a life rolled in a thin sheet of plain white paper, waiting to be smelt into elements of carbon and ash. were their sun-filled dreams still cured inside them. did these pipe dreams sublimate themselves into feelings of the sanguine and sublime? the happy leaf? the magic leaf?
***
He is traveling between worlds when i find him. he is redolent of bourbon and cigarettes, lying in bed, sojourning planar dimensions where the meta meets the physical. I nestles myself into my nook where his shoulder meets his arm. I whispers inaudible words into his ear when he is asleep, spilling secrets of sorrow and of pain.

He was not able to respond. i realize that he can't respond. i realize that he is observing himself. some call this lucid dreaming, but he can't bring himself close enough to make out what i am saying with any clarity.

then he realize i am upset. he can tell when i am unhappy. and suddenly, he feel my tears come trickling down his arm. I never look at him. I feel cold. he is alone. i am alone.
yet, I continues to cling on, desperately trying to console my soul with some kind, any kind of warmth.

gradually, my breathing slows. the tears dry. and I continue to cling, vainly clinging to the vestiges of what we didn't have, what we wouldn't have. but, at least we still had that, right? at least we still have that.
because now, the night is a little colder, a little longer. and dusk just falls a little earlier.

Relentless pursue for happiness

Being an unemployed couch potato for 2 months counting has seen me made an identation on my mother's favourite couch. Everday after plonking my perky butt on it for hours while channel surfing, i rise up to see a beautiful butt-made sinking hole in it. Probably right before I return to England, I should try to fluff it up a little or glue my dog onto it so mummy dearest will not have to tear her hair out when she sees it. I have made myself useful despite the draught period of loafing. Having stayed home most of the days when my friends are too busy working to come out to play with me, I have watched and watched almost all the programmes on Astro. I am awe by the creativity of Astro to repeat their shows over and over again. So if I miss the first half of CSI today, I can still catch it somewhat later and if I miss that hot hunk on Heroes, I can wait for the next replay. I was awe-struck until week 4. I have a short attention span. By then, my patience was wearing thin. I started to indulge in a new activity. Running. Come to think of it, that would've been an overstatement. I would say, I found skipping?

So there I was one day...one fine sunny day out in the Park doing my skip, hop, walk or whatever you like to call it as long as it doesnt involve pushing my heart beat to more than a 120 beats per minute.

I was whistling along, looking, checking out potential victims to prey on, simply just enjoying my time of solitude when the Banker came striding along side me. 'Oh God, you scared the fuck out of me' was my opening line. Tactful and graceful. 'Oh God, I'm surprise to see you here!' was he retaliating line.

This lovely, Charming and witty conversation, reminiscent of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn's finer moments of verbal sparing, was cut short by the realisation that he was looking at me extremely oddly. I had become used to not meeting anyone good looking for my standard in the Park that I had forgotten there was a possibility of meeting a minority bunch of hot guys out there who would might chat me up in the Park and find my attire of a leggings and tutu an odd choice of walking/jogging/running attire. Oh well, it was too late to change now.

"Hello" I said brightly. "Have have you been?". I was determined to be more polite and to have a proper conversation with said potential victim. 'Fine. What about yourself? I haven't seen you since..." and he trailed off searching his brains for the date we last saw each other. "Ya, it has been awhile huh?" I replied, searching my brains too for when I last remembered him being so good looking. Then we started on a long catching up conversation. going up and down hills. exhausting ourselves physically and dehydrating every ounce of liquid in our body. I was most quiet when we climbed up the hills with me looking like a fish out of water struggling to breathe and catch my breath. I almost died halfway and yet he was still rambling about his life. Ignorant pretty face. At that moment, I mentally reminded myself to push him down the hill when we are going down later.

I tried so hard to focus on his chiselled features, but my vision was too blur from lack of oxygen in my brains. I blinked at him rapidly, much in the manner of an extremely shocked fish or an undercover spy who had to convey a National Security Message through morse code prior to imminent execution. I was also sweating profusely which made me look I just dived into an ocean and emerged sexily like those baywatch babes.

So after an hour of dragging uncooperative limbs up and down hill, I finally secured a date with the banker. Now I will have to look up the web for a plastic surgeon who can make me look like Kate Moss. No worries, pending I still have one day to go. Hopefully he won't take my for buffet and make me try and stuff every dish laid out otherwise I would just have to practice looking pretty when I throw up my food all over his face. Though in history it has never been reported of any such cases guaranteeing a second date or I could simply just opt to dress in a very sexy mermaid suit....either way, instinct tells me there will never be a second date with the banker.

The thicker the hotter!

I have been suffering from a migraine that has been threatening to split my head the past week. Believe me, its not nice to have to attempt to string coherent thoughts together. I am blaming the changing weather and the pollution. The fact that I should be sleeping eight hours a night instead of six is not relevant. The two hours were well-spent drooling over hot Taiwanese drama actors. I must have some kind of skewed perception of good-looking as I now think thick eyebrows are hot on a guy. Maybe this migraine is affecting me more than I think.

So if we put together a list of 'Junnie's Idea of Hotness' this is what we will get:-
1. Bushy eyebrows, preferably without the long trailing ends seen on Chinese kung fu movies masters. Mono brows are also not acceptable.
2. Glasses. Yes, I think geeks are hot ala the geek in Ugly Betty.
3. Pink shirts. My brothers are adverse to wearing said colour even though it brightens their complexions. If it works for women, it should work for men.
4. Brains. I like guys who are able to give me their two cents worth with style.
5. 6-pack. I am not talking about beer but abs. *drool*
6. Height. As the only person who is short in my family is the Fifth Sibling, I would prefer a guy who is tall so that he doesn't feel intimidated by my family.
7. Long eyelashes because mine are short. If he likes me enough I may get to harvest them for fake lashes hehe...
8. Strong and firm hands. I am a sucker for manly hands. No callouses please, exfoliate and moisturise before application.
9. Body hair in the right places would be okay. I would feel weird if a guy had smoother legs than I do.

This is obviously a very short list of superficial attributes and is no way an indicator of personality and now that I look at it; put together would make a very weird looking individual...I think I need new glasses or keep at the dramas to alter my perception of male beauty.

It all comes down to M - for maturity

Involvement with people is always a very delicate thing....It requires real maturity to get involved and not get all messed up. It involves a sacrifice of time and an investment of emotions. I am most naive when it comes to matters of the heart. My heart leaps first before consulting my rational and intelligence. Therefore more often than not, landing me in a deep pool of tears. People don't realise what they are getting into until they are waist deep in the relationship and its too difficult to wade themselves out.

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. When we honestly ask ourselves again, shouldnt that be the characteristics too, of the person you are in a relationship with? Your significant other half? Or are relationships so superficial that the only ingredient require is the mushy fuzzy feeling that keeps your head so light that you seem to be on cloud nine all the time? It must have been dinosaur years since I have dated that the only thing that hold my hand now are cobwebs. So please enlighten me...

I value the ones who allow me to be myself and yet love me with all his heart. Giving me the freedom to express my sillyness. to crack lame jokes laugh with me. someone who will take car rides with me and enjoy each minute. Someone who will ride with me on the bus and savour each second. We cannot tell the precise minute when the sparkle came but I can tell you the happiness shouldnt dry out and like drop by drop filling a vessel, our relationship should always be bursting with tears of joy. I want to look deeper, pass the pretty face, pass the stylo milo hair, pass the charming smile. I want insight, sense and courage. Even if silence does come between us, we will still be so comfortable hanging out in it.

Maturity in a love relationship is everything! First it is the ability to base a decision about a love relationship on the big picture - the long haul. In general, it means being able to pass up the fun for the moment and select the course of action which will pay off later. Maturity is the ability to stick with a project or a situation until it is finished. It means doing whatever it takes to make the relationship be one you are proud to be in. The adult who is constantly changing jobs, relationships, and friends, is in a word. . . immature. They cannot stick it out because they have not grown up. Everything seems to turn sour after a while.

The world is filled with people who can't be counted on, people who never seem to come through in the clutches, people who break promises and substitute alibis for performance. They make excuses. They show up late - or not at all. They are confused and disorganized. Their lives are a chaotic maze of unfinished business and uncommitted relationships. Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

Mature love offers us our most profound opportunity for regaining wholeness - not because our partners will fill all of our emptiness, but because we can use the embrace of a loving relationship to nurture ourselves toward greater maturation and ripening.

If you find yourself stuck in a mudful of immaturities...just call out - Lord, I need a lifeline! This is my SOS call. :) Be Blessed.

Thought for the day

Let me lean on Your grace as I serve this thought on Your throne. For You know, what's best for me. In my intense time of depression and brokenness, You were there hugging me, comforting me, consoling me. You've been most faithful. Now, let me not lose faith that You will bring me through the storm and grant me the serenity in my heart to forgive...

Blazing love...

I don’t understand the mind of an arsonist. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I can understand some arsonists. I can understand someone who is so broke from the economic recession that he burns down his home in order to collect an insurance payment. I can understand someone who murdered her boyfriend and burns down his home to destroy the evidence. I can even understand teenage pyromaniacs (who are kind of like arsonists) who blow up stuff with illegal fireworks from Mexico because setting shit on fire is kind of cool sometimes, even if they are mailboxes or G.I. Joe action figures. I can understand all of these actions because they all have some sort of legitimate motive involved. Additionally, they are all, for the most part, victimless crimes (except for maybe the murderer who was cremating her deadbeat boyfriend). However, I can’t come to terms with why anyone would want to start a wildfire. Do these people have personal vendettas against shrubbery? Or perhaps they have deep-rooted psychological issues against hillsides? I don’t comprehend why anyone would want to set fire on a mountain, even if they were a Grateful Dead fan.

There is a distinct stench in the air this week, and it’s not just because of the news of the fire in San Fernando Valley, which has historically been considered the armpit of Los Angeles proper. Over the past week no less than three wildfires have ignited in the hillsides surrounding the Valley. High winds and dry air have been fueling the raging infernos as they blaze through the nearby neighborhoods, and the enormity of these fires has created a layer of yellow-brown smoke hovering over the entire Valley. The fact that the Valley is turning into the Biblical hell makes the situation uncomfortable for everyone. Everyone has noticed that there is a sense of instability and haziness in the air, and I have, too, but for different reasons.

This week marked the six months anniversary of when the guy I was in love with torched me and kicked me out of his life. He, who was made like John McCain and sent my ass onto the bridge to nowhere. In an overly dramatic late-night telephone conversation, him made like the Ting Tings and said, “Shut Up and Let Me Go,” and I made like Queen in Under Pressure and cried, “Why can’t we give love one more chance?” and then he made like My Chemical Romance and retorted, “I Don’t Love You.” And then he pretended like he was the AT&T 3G network and terminated the call. That day was the last time I talked to him, and this month that exact day fell on my day when I was loafing at home. But, I didn’t spend that day brooding and weeping about the day that love failed me (which is what I did the past six months). In fact, I didn’t do anything. The most remarkable thing I did on that day was eat a giant texas ted hotdog from 1901 in Gurney, and that hotdog was fucking delicious. six months ago nothing was fucking delicious.

There used to be a time when everything in the island reminded me of him, and I’m sure that everything still kind of does. The fact that we both live in the island probably warrants this type of reaction, and I suppose I’ve become desensitized to it. I don’t know what it means to “get over” someone, and I’m not sure if completely “getting over” someone is truly possible. Have you ever fallen in love? I suspect that you have, and I also suspect that, other than your burning loins, your emotions were blazing like a raging inferno. You can either control that fire with water or just let it blaze until it incinerates everything in its path and finally dies out. I suppose I’ve waited for it to burn out, and I suppose I’ve burned every bridge along the way as I let that happen. But every now and then, a flare up will inexplicably occur and make life transiently unbearable. Being uncontrollably in love is like being a mindless arsonist: I don’t understand either of them. Maybe love is about letting things burn. What the hell do I know? I’m not Usher.

God damn that 1901 was fucking delicious. I want a little more.