Tell Me It's Not Over by Starsailor

Believe the unbelievable and dream the impossible. I don't want to look back after 20 years and say, "I should have done that." - Tony Fernandes.

Mum had it written on her planner and thought it would be best to pass it on. She sealed her love by leaving it as a note on my dresser table.

Now its my turn to pen it down into my planner to continously remind myself of the simpliest purpose in life. Be contented, be fulfilled.

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien by Edith Piaf

Thank you for calling. But I am not here right now. I am somewhere else. And you cannot reach me. Please leave me at the sound of the beep.

It hasn't been a good year altogether. Constant battles and hardship for the past seven months. Trials and tribulations. It has been tremendously exhausting. A broken china, chipped glass, cracked mirror, missing jigsaw. This is one battle against my own worst enemy, me. No relations with another human relationship.

I need to get back up on my two feet and take baby steps. Yesterday was a challenging one but I can make a fresh start.

Back to the era where.. I was.. Happier.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap

One thing that irks me most is coming to this blank typing space and finding that the words can't flow as lucidly as I want them to. After such a long break from not updating the blog, surely, there has to be a plethora of events or incidences to be updated and yes, there are, but I reckon the word flow/linguistic abilities have gotten rusty over the days/weeks/months of leaving my brain by the door. It's only too easy to claim that I'm too busy to update the blog. But however busy nonetheless, there's always room to make time but I am running dry on ideas.

I've finally found the space in time to bother updating because I'm stuck on this office seat with a monkey suit. My thoughts.. they are faraway. In addition to that widescreen picturesque view from my seat, its easy to go astray from the piles of responsibilities awaiting. There are so many questions that are yet to be answered, "Is this what God has instored for me, is this what He wants?" It was as though I had the most random epiphany this morning, the words "Be the change you want to see in the world" came across my mind, like a gentle reminder, a subtle wake up call.

Challenges are made to live by. I strongly believe that change, growth or transformation can only fully occur with personal or spiritual growth. When asked what do I place most importance in life, it would be personal growth. Every problem is a character building opportunity to flourish and the more difficult it is; the greater the potential for building the cells of spiritual muscle and moral fiber. Of late, it has been really really hard to live by such practice. Positivity is running on thin ice. Its as though time is playing its tricks on me, as it passes me by, the loathe grows stronger than the like instead of the other way around. I opened my heart to new undertakings and learnings, it seemed exciting at first. Foreign and challenging as it is, the growth of fondness is killed. I find myself questioning if I'll ever find my fit in this area of field. I can't.

I need to stop forcing myself and accept that this isn't my call of duty.

I may have plans but God always has better plans installed.

This Ain't Goodbye by Train

I stare out of the panel windows with wonder. With the rain falling in soft slurries and gloomy skies, that feeling I get in the pit of my gut.. I don't feel quite right. There is a certain wrongness, I can't quite put a name to it. I question myself how can I release myself. As I continue to stare into my own reflection, I realise : I am not here.

Yeah I'm not quite here, really. Is it grief, regret, pain maybe? I honestly can't put a name to it. Some part of me is currently living on a different existential plane. Miles and miles away, in a completely different realm. Bereft. Fragments of my mind soul are somewhat, stolen.

I walk around, going through the notions and.. that's that. I'm numbed, robot-like. Its like, the very core and essential part of me were ripped out and I'm left in a place filled with confusion. My soul is an exile of my own body and mind.

* *

On the contradictory, I'm having the same reoccurence that I blogged about right after the job of taxing (http://www.everythingsporadical.blogspot.com/2010/03/death-by-white-lies.html).
Going back into studies, I'm moving forward far too much than the present lets me. Again, I can't put it into words to quite explain it right. I go through days feeling ten steps ahead than the current reality. Thankfully I talked to someone who went through the exact motions and she felt the same as well. So, toorah. It isn't just me. There are days where I hunger from something exhilarating, challenging and mind boggling task to be handed down, to be mentally challenged once again. The feeling.. is, quite remarkable. So here I am, trying my best to retract backwards? One of the many reasons I needed to get back into Ballet again, I yearn for growth and elevation too much. Being mentally and spirituality stagnant scares the crap out of me. Sometimes one has to wonder if this constant want of self-actualisation is an epidemic or a sick-twisty needy drug.

A quagmire of mental and spiritual elevation. I'm between battles on days like these.

Happy note, Stereophonics tonightttttt!

Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event

Air was silent as I listened to his still breathings of deep sleep. I rolled over, my eyelids flutter before they fully opened. I jumped off the bed with the sight of a clock ticking at 8.05 am.

"I'm late for work. We're lateee!"

I frantically searched for my phone, pouncing around like a senile cat.

He gibbers something beyond comprehension and pulls me back sleepily.

Work's a block away. Let me fix breakfast first, he mumbles.

Curtly, I replied No.

"Stay in bed. I'll fix spinach ravioli for lunch?"

"My manager would kill if I'm late!"

"I'll bring your colleagues food for brunch"

"They'll loathe you for making me late"

"No, they won't. I'm their Food Jesus.."

*silence of contemplation*

"I'll stay awhile if you let me make pancakes"

"You mean, pannekoek?"

"Whatever. Can I make em?"

"No. Leave pannekoeks to the Germans.."

"You can't pronounce Nasi Lemak correctly, Hitler"

"Yes I can. Naksik Leemoak"

"^&*$%^#"

"That sounded like a woman's vagina. Did you just call me a cunt?"

"Shit. How'd you figure that one out?!"

He pinches my cheeks and rolls out of bed, "Looks like I'll be making pannekoeks..."

From The Inside Out by Hillsong United

Food changes over time. Things don't change, people do.

Egg tarts are funny, they are funny to me. Its strange how I perceived it to be.. mushy, slimy, gross back then. I tried it when during the younger primary school days and I didn't like it at all. NOT AT ALL. A few months back, I decided to try out the famous ones from Pudu out of curiousity, and it was real good.

It became an epidermic actually. Been nuts about egg tarts from that day on. Ironically, I used to date someone who was crazy about egg tarts. Occasionally after our heavy meals, he would drive to this old run-down bakery and eat half a dozen of it while watching tele, giving me the ear to ear grin of a small ten year ol boy. I might have passed out a disgusted look as he savoured his dessert (I'm not very supportive as you see). Funny, he never failed to offer me some despite my lack of.. enthusiasm heh. Highly claiming how delectable it was, I would pass on the offer. Pity we couldn't share the joy together at that moment in time. It struck me just last week about the bakery! See, I've been getting these tarts from either DJ or Pudu because well.. they tasted pretty grand enough. So I took a drive to the old bakery nearby last week and bought some tarts to try them out myself. It tasted real grand! It was certainly nostalgic revisiting the place.

I wanted to share my excitement in a new discovery and say out loud, ''Hey you're right. Its awfully good!". But I knew I was the last person on planet Earth you would ever want to hear from heh. The taste of egg tarts changed me. Oh and tomatoes too. I hope my durian story would not alter like egg tarts ugh. We used to have Japanese on most Sundays as tea and be seated at the exact same spot. You would order two plates of raw octopus and I would drum those wooden chopsticks in anticipation for my favourite Sushis on the conveyer belt. I miss the food there ever since.

You told me, It'll be okay. But you were the one crying.
You told me, Let go. But you were the one holding onto my shirt.

Things work out the opposite sometimes. I hope you accept, be okay with it and find peace in what you're searching for.

Be waiting for the day you learn to surpass the past and return as my good buddy again. I've missed you, friend.

Marking the one year aftermath in a few days time. I've never looked back :)

Show Me What I'm Looking For by Carolina Liar

Emotions build up within time, then it hits you when you least expect it. And, realisation creeps in. It sinks.

These words aren't sufficient, I know. Words baffled were never what people hoped to hear. Anyone but me can probably express much more effectively and fluidly than this. I want to - I really do, but when I want to, really really want to, when everything could work out okay by saying something - anything at all. Its just not that easy.

Tongue-tied, dumbfolded. I lose sight, lose focus on what to say, what to do. There would come that daze-like state, the very vague confusion, the thoughts which seem strange and foreign you refuse to acknowledge - fear. Fear that it'll make situations worse. Yet, we smile. Pretend all things are okay, because, well, everyone seems to be acting in a certain way and you don't want to ruin it. Camouflage. I'm a chameleon.

Opportunity arises when I get a chance to speak up but all I can do is to smile half-heartedly and turn away. I certainly hope that they failed to notice that my smile did not reach my eyes. I shouldn't be afraid of showing more than I think I should. Ever come to a point where you want to speak up, say more, much more - but you don't know how, when or even why?

There's so many technicalities I need to work on. One can't help but to wonder if one lifetime would be sufficient at all.

Currently re-reading Midnight Sun by Meyer online. It lifts me up when I'm a little discouraged.

Wait, I'm wrong
Should have done better than this
Please, I'll be strong
I'm finding it hard to resist
So show me what I'm looking for

Save me, I'm lost
Oh Lord, I've been waiting for you
I'll pay any cost
Save me from being confused
Show me what I'm looking for

Claudine by Maksim Mrvica

Love may be an ability, an action. Love transcends, fills the void. An essence of linkage between different individuals. It revives, binds.. elevates. Love can be the greatest weapon for mankind because through it, we are able to aid others to the highest degree. As the Greeks termed the three degrees of love – Agape, Philia, Eros.

I am deeply reminded of my Christian Fellowship Club days at school where we would speak of Agape love, and the love Paul spoke in 1st Corinthians 13:4 to 9 ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away’.

Is romance a symptom? I believe romance is a perk for those that learn how to love first. It’s a sugarcoat, an icing. Romance is what you gain from Eros, erotic love. Love with passionate heights. Love, alongside with romance. There are many stages to be reached within love and romance. Friendship, understanding, connectivity, attraction, passion, compassion etc. How do we find and conclude the definition of love? How are we, humans able to place our finger to it? Love changes, morphs into so many things, in so many people, in so many ways. I had a vision of sitting on a bench with a soul mate, and we were listening to a song through earphones together. He was tapping his fingers on my knee to the beat, and that was the best feeling in the world. That, by my definition, was romance. A simple act of human connectivity. It had no relation as to how much we loved each other or how good the sex is for that matter. Romance, in my opinion, differs for everyone. It many mean a little, or everything in each relationship. Love, however, is a commitment, a decision. Lust is merely an expression, passion adds colour of physical love and romance is the reaction. With recent age, love has gradually been defined as casual sex. I am deeply saddened that sex has turned into a tool; a scotch tape of relationship adhesives to many. Like scotch tape, its easy to many, functional, accessible and vital? But does it really hold things for a long duration? We should never define love with terms of physical passion. It goes above, way way above.

Happy note! I’ve just gotten my hands on Lewis’ book called The Four Loves where he examines the emotions of various types of love. Restricting myself from reading it till I finish Eureka by Poe first! Eureka is literally, killing me slowly and painfully. Think I’m going to skip to the last few pages of the book sshh.

From Where You Are by Lifehouse

I'm particular about perfection at times. The whole ironing crumpled papers for assignments. Demanding order and symmetry. I wouldn't want to lean towards an obsessive compulsive disorder, I defy. Hee. Its funny because I have a tremendous appreciation of a certain sorta art (a good art usually symbolizes perfection), and what's surprising is I truly enjoy Shinichi Maruyama's work, which on the other hand, uses the concept of wabisabi - beauty of things which are imperfect. Beauty in objects which are impermanent and incomplete. He creates swirls of waters, blotches of sporadical inking. And each one of them are unique. Perfectly.. Imperfect. One can't deny questions raised on the applications of viewing imperfections in beauty, not only in art - but in life.

Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead

Mmhm that warm, fuzzing feeling after reading love letters written by men at the store this afternoon. There were several letters Napoleon wrote to Josephine which were staggering, left me in awe. When I got back, I spent more time reading up on his flaming love for Josephine and I discovered that he gave Josephine a gold locket with a simple inscription as their wedding gift. It stated, "Destiny".

Destiny. Serendipity. People state that life is all in our hands and we make the best of it. However, its one of the myriad of cliches I believe in. It puts a smile on my face, as funny as it may sound, it keeps me going. Having faith if I may say, surpasses everything.

I have faith with all my heart that certain strange melange, spur of the moment decisions and coincidences brought me to where I am, this very situation, this present, this moment in time.

Speaking of spur of the moment, I've decided to further my ballet insanity by taking up the Solo Seal Award. I'm hyperventilating as I'm blogging it out. Its so.. intimidating. I'm still questioning if this is a rash decision, its so far-fetching, ambitious and somewhat impossible in many many ways. Firstly, I've only been teaching small kids for several years and have not been practising in quite a fair bit. Secondly, the exams is going to be in July (right after my degree finals) in front of a small crowd (probably those snotty Russian ballet dancers who kick ass big time) and a panel of judges (gulp).

I was content when I completed the full vocational graded exams a while back but just a few days ago, I woke up feeling hungry for something challenging and far-fetching (The hunger arose from listening to RADIOHEAD'S THE BENDS. THE ALBUM SPOKE TO ME, I'M SERIOUUUS). I yearned for elevation, achieving bigger dreams, to self-actualise if I may say. Sigh. I am still coming to terms with what I signed up for. There's no looking back now. I don't have a tinge of regret actually, I'm surrounded with the doubts and fears that I may not be fully prepared by then.

There's so many decisions to be made! Variation from the 21st Century or the Classical Repertoire? I would most likely pick Classical Repertoire but which play?! Coppelia? Swan Lake? Le Corsaire? Sleeping Beauty?

Eeek I need to be SuperWoman till July comes around :S

I'm strangely excited on what is installed in the future undertakings though. Hee.

Wish me luck!

Death by White Lies

I'm in a place where I'm two steps ahead of where I'm supposed to be. How do I retract and move backwards? I woke up this morning and lay in bed, random images from the past happenings flickering in and out of my mind’s eye. I had Mercer and Mancini song, "Moon River" playing through my head. mmhm. I wished I had a huckleberry friend.

It feels like someone has pushed a button on a cosmic remote control somewhere out there and the world is moving in fast-motion, like one of those old black and white Charlie Chaplin reels. Time is actually speeding up, gearing manically towards. Something.

There is no climax at the top of this mad, temporal ascension. Only a horrible sense of dread, of wanting the clock to stop just for a while, just enough so I can catch my breath, process where I am in life right now. Except that I don’t actually know how to do that. The truth is I want more time to waste. I wish I had time to spare to curl up on my couch and watch old films, to sprawl out on my sheets and read the whole day, to be left in solitary without having to reply obligatory text messages or calls. I want time that doesn’t need to be utilised sensibly. But its never enough. I may find myself staying up late nights, indulging in the depths of the books stories tell and yet, the glass doesn't fill up. In actual fact, its quite bottomless. A sink with an open drain. Why?

I'm paralyzed by the prospect of the future, worried that I can't face it with enough confidence. In high school a friend told me that she was afraid to try because if she tried and failed then it was concrete proof that her best wasn’t good enough. I'm enthusiastic about life as it is at this point of time, but I'm also afraid that I may get shot down eventually. Fear is a funny thing. Sneaky too.

The rest of my life may be a long time but for now, it feels as if I am trapped in the hourglass and there is very little sand left.

The irony is like I said in the beginning of the post, I'm at a path where I'm ahead, forwarded from my point of reality. Its as though I developed a precocious awakening and pounced a few steps too quick. In order to coincide with my responsibilities and reality, I would need to move backwards in time, space, quantum. Basically, retract backwards in life itself. How does that make any sense at all? How do I let myself move backwards?

I love the feeling when we lift up
Watching the world so small below
I love the dreaming when I think of
The safety in the clouds out my window
I wonder what keeps us so high up
Could there be a love beneath these wings
If we suddenly fall should I scream out
Or keep very quiet and cling to my mouth as I’m crying
So frightened of dying
Relax yes I’m trying
But fears got a hold on me

I love the quiet of the night time
When the sun is drown in a deathly sea
I can feel my heart beating as I speed from
The sense of time catching up with me
The sky set out like a pathway
But who decides which road we take
As people drift into a dream world
I close my eyes as my hands shake and when I see a new day
Who’s driving this anyway
I picture my own grave
Cause fears got a hold on me


Floating neither up or down I wonder when I hit the ground
Will the earth beneath my body shake
And cast your sleeping hearts awake
Could it tremble stars from moonlit skies
Could it drag a tear from your cold eyes
I live on the right side I sleep on the left
That’s why everything is got to be love or death

Yes this fears got a hold on me

- Death by White Lies

Profounddd :)

Undisclosed Desires by Muse

"You hold people back and build your damn walls..."

I tell myself that those words were only uttered due to your momentary rage of anger. I deny such blasphemy, stating that "No, I've let you in, in many ways of our friendship".

But I look back and discover the notions of truth in those verbal words. I only chose to share, not because I truly wanted to. But because it was only polite to, an obligation to our friendship. Many a times I am obligated to share filtered thoughts due to the pang of guilt that people are sharing more than I can afford to provide. I would bring myself to provide, so that I would not fall short / deprive the other party. It would somewhat seem... selfish of myself. I don't think I fully comprehend such guilt either, it probably doesn't make any sense to others at all.

These notions I get. I wish I had a switch to turn it all off.

Belle Of The Boulevard by Dashboard Confessionals

Here I am the morning after, wide eyed awake with a cup of steamy tea, French macaroons, and a breathtaking window view of Orchard. I'm in a mood of variation and contradictory.

Spontaneity is integral to fun – at least in as dictated in my little handbook of hedonism. Two general and crucial rules you must abide when it comes to having a good time – never say never, and pleasure is all that we live for. That’s all you need to know, that’s all you need to believe in. Indulge in the ephemeral church of hot addiction, and the many guilty indulgences it offers. Live life dangerously. Or so they may say.

Enjoy the offerings of youth – there can be no mistake you make now that will threaten your embryonic future. Your pliable minds are more amazing than you think, your eager minds are the essence that allowed Aristotle and Da Vinci to flourish. Bask in the glorious nude beaches of adolescence while you can. Ride merry-go-rounds, real or metaphorical ones. You’re not a working class hero. Yet.

As for now, I found my ethopia. The serene silence of the air, the smooth wooden pine floors, and a gigantic look out window is all I need.

Contentment.