Hello Seattle (Remix Version) by Owl City

Before this, I'd like to think that somewhere out in the universe, on a planet exactly like ours, two people like you and I, made different choices and that, somewhere, we had a chance.

At current moment, I'm clearly petrified at the thought that you are returning.

I might be sucked so deep into the vacuum packed black hole and have zero chance of survival rate to crawl back up when you leave again.

Maybe it would have been best if you decided not to return at all. I could be practical, sensible and filled with normality.

Well, what fun would that be, yes?

The Adventure by Angels and Airwaves

People are in a constant pace to look for a sign, any sign. And when its given to you and you defy the answer, you call it a coincidence.

There are no coincidences in life. Fate? Probably. Maybe.

We gasp for air and mere sanity. In hopes that we will not be driven by insanity of thoughts and fears. Moon, stars, clouds, sky. Out of breathe, barely breathing. Why do we immerse, soak and drown ourselves with meaningless thoughts that are might be created by a speck of dust? Created by a bunch of nothingness?

Nevertheless, we hope. We can only hope. Hope that indeed our thoughts might metamorphose into reality that we live in today.

One can dream and hope.

All The Right Moves by One Republic

What is the sound of a passing heart?

You'll hear it clearly when no one else does. Its like your inner soul wearing a pair of headphones and only it, itself can hear the music it is attuned to.

Can you hear it, even from a faint distance? Your inner calling?

I don't hear anything.

Possibility by Lykke Li

Every movement and step I take feels unreal. Its as though I'm in a deep sleep, a daze, trance. That this whole place, is a figment of my very own imagination. Maybe the world isn't real, its our mind that makes it so. My limbs feels unreal, the words I read is unreal, I close my eyes and it feels unreal. I hear this voice but I don't hear it. Whether my eyes are open or tightly shut, its you I see. There is no sense of permanence, no consistency.

Why are things the way they are, instead of being the way it SHOULD be?

Till then, things aren't the way they should, in my current world.

There's always that possibility. Of what could have happened.

Vanilla Twilight by Owl City

I wonder which is worse. Trying to memorise every memory left of you, or putting it all behind, to eventually forget.

But I tell myself I shouldn't. I should retain all memories because I'm worried that with human minds acting like a sieve, I would eventually forget all small details within time. What good would come out of that? After all, it was a good memory to hold.

I'm only sadden to remember how you would hold me closer and tighter because my phone beeped. On how after every text I'm done typing, you would come back and cradle me with your firm arms. How you would entwin your fingers into mine throughout the night and kiss my little fingers in the morning. On how you assure me that you wouldn't make me do things I wouldn't want to, just perfectly comfortable with just sleeping in together.

The worse part of it all, we are separated by the universe where we may never see each other again. All we would only share are those few days of knowing each other.

8,120 km of flying and 5 hours of difference in the world.

I'll look back from many years ahead and smile at this little something we shared worthwhile.

The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly

Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here

Vanilla Twilight - Owl City

Seventeen Forever by Metro Station

I often get myself tangled up in sticky situations where my shoes are all gooey and I can't move forward or back. Despite knowing what I was getting myself into, which only named Trouble, I continued with it. Tying myself up. Many a times I've learnt, its not easy to have a clean cut. To have a perfect slice. But I still do it, get myself in a mess for the thrill of it. Why?

Why is it that my wants are amplified when it comes to something I can't have? Am I pre-programmed to chase such elusivity?

We won't be seventeen forever, we can get away with this tonight. But how about tomorrow?

When words fail, music speaks.

We Are The People by Empire of the Sun

I'm not one for sentimental and mush. Okay, maybe I am. With all the poisonous love novels I dive myself into. Tsk. Esque drivel by such. More often, I find myself reading lists of quotes online when I get demotivated. Small truths written or said by famous people and random people like you and I, is enough to get me going. To direct me into the correct path, to count my blessings. What is it about other people's thoughts that fascinate us? Sometimes when I'm in the car and I peek into people's home, I often drift in wonder about the lives they lead. The trials and tribulations that brought them to today.

I become an adult in a week's time. Does that mean I get to be reckless for at least another week? Where did my childhood and youth go? I think I should get back to writing journals and letters to myself, but it'll never work out for long.

I am left in a safe corner from idleness for a few hours before Monday comes along. With much work load to deal with. HATRED. Time has passed too much to stop, and my energy level is coming to its dead due. I constantly feel the vibe that I'm reaching a self actualization process these couple of months. And thats prolly find peace in nature, and find your place. But how far can you bring yourself to do that without actually having an adverse effect?

How do you feel accepted in nature, if you have no felt shunned away from it somehow? How do you stop yourself from being oblivious of your home in this world, when your surroundings have always been that way? For one, I can belong into a group of individuals that have nothing except for the being of nothing to do with each other, for no reason. The sense of, belonging. But, why? This is where the whole topic of Social Chameleon of all sorts comes into place (from my previous post). I get the feeling of disconnection, I don't belong or connect in the same frequency. I don't feel special of any sort at all, more like.. bizarre. Like a freak. I am what I am, I will camouflage. But I do get the feeling like I'm a freak sometimes, its absurd. I have preprogrammed my mind to say the right and civilised things, till sometimes, I have no thoughts of myself anymore.

These are the days we leave out oblivion, face facts that life to be questioned is usually unanswered. I started to accept that we need to prepare the mental place to run to, a place where we can feel our own skin and blood.

Peh. I had a bad day today. Plus side, it was a Sundaayyy!

Please don't tell me its Monday tomorrow.

ANAL. Peh.

Shine by Shannon Noll

It happened out of the blue when I stumbled across the least expected people back in Malaysia last night. In between laughs, I was amused by funny absorbing stories. We jumped from going places to quantum physics to condensation (how the cup never fails to overflow even though the ice is melting). It wasn't only refreshing. I felt, connected.

I brought up the topic on how we can be social chameleons. Wondering if they felt the same way. How sometimes things work where you meet a certain range of people and be able to freely discuss on anything from culture, lifestyle, strange phenomenons, opinions and its actually fascinating!

Amidst other times, we only blend into what norm society would discuss. Music, movies, and life? Ha ha, funny was how one of them mentioned 'What is there to discuss about our lives?' Most of the people place conversations of life thoughts on 'I'. My life, my this, my that, I think that my life has changed.. Where are personal opinions on everything circulating the universe?

There are other times when I just can't bring myself to exchange thoughts or opinions on things that I actually disagree. I'd rather stay in silence. I haven't figured out why I do that sometimes yet. I put on my social chameleon cloak and just let them say what they want to say. We mutually agreed that society never bother listening, all they want to do is TALK. Is it to make them feel vital? Significant? There's where a lot of 'I' comes into place. Heh. I'm only a sponge.

Without a doubt they agreed that on a random basis, you stumble upon people that ignores all mendacious talk. People, who saturate themselves into humanity. Connectedness, connection or something like that.

From time, a good coffee conversation will refresh and recollect my thoughts. To bring my head back down from space. Its not merely people exchanging words, ideas and stories; it isn't two people formulating things to say in response to other another. Its like, certain conversations are meant to be, as potential-energy. Like statistical likelihood of combustion. Discovering a natural phenomenon. These conversation existed by a reason. The conversation can be out aloud of by silence. Quantifying through jokes, music, acts. Eluding.

These conversations need not be with the right person, lover of life. Sometimes, just sometimes, people surprise me. The most random people too. Like a needle through a haystack. I'm certain these conversations has been had before, in every language or expression ever imaginable. The words or topics are never relevant, or they never come out at all. Spoken by the soft brush strokes of a blind painter, strumming of three-stringed violin.

We can spend our entire lives analyzing, proving what is right or not; talking about it, but a lifetime is not equitable. Waiting and wondering for a sign. Never ever daring to move. Doubting our purpose of existence. I don't know if any good will come out of it without ever taking a risk of stripping all walls down.

I'm an addict to connectivity. And thats that.

Porcelain by Moby

Bali was an amazing battery recharge and recollection. Glistering beach, white sand, breezy wind, sun and music of waves. I knew I had to have a 'Porcelain by Moby' moment. Good ol' Coldplay, Moby & myself. Bliss.

I was on top of the highest mountain on earth while the wind blew my whole soul out. It was far-fetching phenomenal.


Reality check! Back to the books this week! :(

I Was Never Young by Of Montreal

This calls for an update? So much has changed since my last update eons ago!

Life is pretty awesome from where I'm standing. No obligations, long silences, escapades, the plan for the summer holidays is 'no plan' at all. Glorious three weeks of doing absolutely nothing. Short as it might seem, timetable for the next semester is ALREADY being set, with classes on Fridays :(

I'm dipping my toes in a bunch of things right now. Focusing on going on a mission trip that I've been dying to go. An eye opener I've been longing. A short getaway next week, which I'm so jumpy about. Catching up with long lost souls, making new splendid ones. I literally finished 2 out of 5 books I bought, in 4 days. At this rate, I'll be left with nothing else to read. Bleh.

Were my eyes grainy, or things aren't as black and white as they used to be? There's this feeling, awakening? Like I woke up from a deep sleep. There's so much that I've been missing out. I think it has much to do with being perfectly contented in my tiny bubble for such a long time.

Its intoxicating.

Lets Dance to Joy Division by The Wombats

I went through the past few days, being content. Happy. Resurfaced. Or so I hope it will per long.

Seems like the past few days have been a learn-about-yourself-101. As I bottle things inside myself, confine and seek in no one, push away supportive friends who were willing to help (to man myself up to deal with my own issues), sometimes help from others might be all I really need. As simple as it sounds, wow, I've completely seen a different light. Other than I get broke while lavishing myself with friends I love. No more plushy food and cocktails for me! :( :(

At hard times is the best times to differ between true friends and acquaintances. Old bonds were made and broken. New ones shall arise.

Shed a few old leaves, to build an entire orchard.

Have I mentioned how druggie-ish happy I am today?
I might be going senile.
Mental.

Let's dance to joy division,
And celebrate the irony,
Everything is going wrong,
But we're so happy...

Dark Blue by Jack's Mannequin

The difference between a mixture and a compound.

A mixture is like stirring iron dust with sulfur. Clustering them together. Stir it in a cup vigorously and watch the sparkly grey dust combine with the yellow powder. Yet you can distant them with a magnet, attracting the grey dust in an instant. Leaving the yellow. Clear and clean. A mixture do not involve heat changes. Neither does it form a new material. Chemical Bond = Absent.

A compound needs heating to occur. A chemical reaction takes place. It doesn't merely stop at, iron powder and sulfur. It becomes Iron Sulfide. It involves heat changes, forms a new material. It becomes a colour you can't recognise anymore. Neither grey or yellow. Chemical Bond = Present.

Mixture and Compound may not mutually exclusively agree with each other. But the both of us CAN mutually agree to, transit from being a Compound to a Mixture. We may have had our Compound time, and yet agree that it would suit the best of our nature to remain as a Mixture. Many have ended bonds by separating as individual Atoms. Deleting all previous contacts, previous bonds. Doing the 'It will be as if I'd never existed'. (brownie points if you discover where this quote is from!)

It makes me feel accomplished or scientifically-won a Nobel prize that we mutually agreed on Mixture over Atoms. It couldn't have ended better than this.



Another note, c'mon. Download 'Dark Blue' already. No, download Jack Mannequin's 'Everything in Transit'. No, buy it! I only got mine for rm19.90 from a decent record store!

Its a beautiful day to do something amazing.

Who Knew by Pink

I think I'll be okay.

Kids by MGMT

I think I've been a little fiction-obsessed. I don't think it takes a genius to figure that out with me safely tugged away in my corner of idleness with my faithful books.

However! Fictional characters are appearing in my sleep. Argh. Hot, fictional made-up antagonist.
Why, do I go for the latter instead of the protagonist.

Its all messed up. I wake up to only find out that it was merely a dream, which is 10 times worse.

I've been having more thoughts about inflicting some pain onto myself. Not sadistically. I'd always wanted to pierce my upper ear lobe but heard freakey stories about hitting the bone or getting nasty infection. Aka, chickened out. Putting more thoughts about being tatt-ed. The design is more tedious than the grueling-loud drilling-needle hitting part.

I need to collect my thoughts.

Stolen by Dashboard Confessionals

I met this person today, a brief encounter. I don't really know what this particular person was to me at that point of time, which was centuries afar. We were great friends, feelings were mutual but it never got any further. I could have said Hello how are you. But its been far far too long. We were a few tables across where we constantly glance at each other, only to embarrassingly look away.

Know how you have that thing on your list to meet your long-and-lost someone special after so many many years on impromptu, I had my crossed today.

Some thing's are just left better unspoken. My day is made :)

Boy, eight years go by fast.
Same same, but different.

The Heart of Life by John Mayer

A person's life is supposed to be like a DVD. You can see the version everyone else sees, or you can choose the director's cut - the way he wanted you to see it, before everything else got in the way.

There are menus, probably, so that you can start at the good spots and not relive the bad ones. You can measure it by the number of scenes you've survived, or the minutes you're stuck there.

Probably, though, it is more like one of those dumb video surveillance tapes. Grainy, no matter how hard you stare at it. And looped; the same thing. Over and over and over again.

Death and All His Friends by Coldplay

I would consider myself an avid Coldplay fan, would I? I think I was still into Spice Girls when Parachutes was released. My all time favourite is definitely the latest one, Viva La Vida unlike their earlier endeavors. Viva La Vida explores deep themes with melodic precision. When X&Y came out, I literally drowned into the sea of greatness. That was before the existence of Viva. And no, no exaggeration required.

Its indie is getting better than I can imagine. Every song speaks by itself, uniquely different. Sometimes I, myself think they should be set up as a whole new genre. Mix of indie, alternative and brilliant orchestrated background effects. What had me gooey-doe eye was no doubt the orchestra touches. The piano, violin. Even a friggin church bell set-up on stage during the awards. Its eccentric. I also notice a bit of African drumming, is that a sitar, a little classic rock...oh my.

When asked about Coldplay's latest release, Viva La Vida, Chris Martin sarcastically said: "It will change the world."

However, Martin may not need the sarcasm when saying that about such an epic piece. The sounds are so powerful that they transcend genres and resound in a persons heart.

When I listen to the songs, not only do the lyrics work wonders. Its more of how they pierce the combination of so many crazy instruments that they experiment with. How it pierces and connects together like waves. I would say, Angels & Airwaves have almost the same closeness. In the orchestral part. They have an edge to it too.

The whole album may not flow flawlessly, but each song is orchestrated with amazing dynamics.
It reminds me of Tears for Fears "Raoul and the Kings of Spain" which explores many of the same themes in a concept type album. Where as most groups are searching for good material by the time they have released three or four albums, Coldplay seems to be just getting started.

Lately by Turn Off The Stars

I have so much time in my hands, its absurd that it passes by quickly. It doesn't hover at all, not in the mornings when I scramble to get things done. Juggling with clearing things and watching Ellen Degeneres.

With everyone and everything I know is moving forward into worlds unreachable. I'm just stuck in re-reading the same Bronte books (ol Jane Eyre). I can't finish Wuthering Heights ironically. This may sound impertinent but I find it impassively boring.

Maybe I’m going through a bohemian phase myself, as I can see that my family does have some Hippy tendencies.

I really don’t know much of what I want to do, my obsessions with art and building, and numbers. During the younger days, I wanted to take up photography so badly. I don't know what changed. Was it the norm who developed the sudden euphoric excitement over gigantor Canon whateverness that made me lose my bon-appetite interest? I never quite ponder to be bothered with it.

Sounds really facile, but no matter how much I stare at books or words with it’s flawless prose, life still seems to have no grounding, or not much at least. I’m thankful for all the exposure the world had offered, but sometimes one can’t help but feel dettered and greedy, and the gleaming building, the pages and the words just seem to fade away.

Is it me, or I want dangerous? As much as my imagination can be, I wouldn't be a survival at dangerous and reckless. I'm far too boring. Despite pending on tons of indecisions of making choices as simple as food in a restaurant. I still pick out what I always do every other time. Irony.

So..

Everything at Sporadical is precisely the saying I was going for. Inconsistent outburst of enthusiasm critism having no order in time. Hyperbole sudden silence, which explains my previous blog. Could I be anymore distracted.

Tara ta.

Paper Plane by MIA

Essentially, I can't scratch the itch to stop blogging. I've learnt to accept that it might be a sprawl of sporadical thoughts, inconsistent. Irregular.

So here goes. Hopefully this will be the LAST swap of blog. I'm getting tired of this love-hate relationship.