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Time after Time

04059-000019I always believe in the power of time. And how timely the universe map out our destiny for us. This afternoon, I realised my iTunes playlist that was shuffling all music, went through a couple of Chet Bakers. One that really hit hard on this shattered heart is, of course, “Time After Time”.

I used to be in love. Funnily, I wanted someone I can never comprehend why. Maybe it’s one of my brilliant theories of compatibility, and relationships. This person I wanted was the unattainable. Just because of how we are so different from each other, traits, behaviours, tastes, interests and also circumstances. But I always thought you need someone, the opposite of who you are, to complement you.

I promised myself the weirdest thing, that this person will eventually come to realise that she is for me. I don’t know what made me think that. We discussed how she is not interested in me and we should remain friends. I tried over and over again to convince myself that not by any realities that this partnership will work. And my subconscious dreamt of her, over and over again, for the past two years.

But I told the universe I wanted her. And the universe (sort of) told her that she needed me. For the weirdest favours, in the oddest circumstances.

For example, after 2 years plus, I asked again for a second chance, for a date on a particular day. And she said, we have agreed to be friends and this cannot be led on anymore. The day came and she needed me for a favour and we end up meeting and spending the evening with friends.

But love, love is painful. In an ideal world, we can never be together.

What I need to do is to tell myself, this is not love. This can’t be love. How can you fall for someone who doesn’t have feelings for you, who you don’t really know, who might not love you as much as you love them, who might not be a great supporting partner for the person that you aspire to be?

This is not love.

Time after Time, I shall remind myself of that.

And please help remind myself too. So universe can send me someone else.

Behold the Beholders

5170658649_b9637e4054_o“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

This saying was first introduced in the 3rd century BC in Greek. Imagine the beauty of Greek gods and goddesses. Supreme and divine in their aesthetics and judgments.

Well, I’m referring to the Fashion scene in Malaysia. Supreme and divine in its aesthetics and judgments.

If there’s something that I’m learning being in the Entertainment industry is that you’re only as worthy as who you know and what you can give to a relationship. And no, HUGS nor LOVE be any part of this currency. Unless your name comes with a Dato’, Datin, Tengku, Tunku, or a million dollar inheritance.

Superficiality is as genuine as your Prada. And honesty is only as courteous as your Louis Vuitton boutique assistant. I dare not call it a shop. Blasphemous!

Then, there’s the hippie range. The new and upcoming Fashion outlets which caters to the masses. And when I say “masses”, I actually was referring to the hipsters. Because we all know that the hipsters have the most quirky fashion sense. Of course those skinny jeans are easy to put on and take off.

I, too, belong in every of the stereotypes mentioned above (wait, what stereotypes? ;-P ). But then again, what I see beautiful, might not be beautiful to you. I be the holder of my sight as you be yours. Although I trust your colour blocking works brilliantly as long as you can match those yellow Balmain jackets with green cashmere scarf, a purple Birkin bag and red Prada shoes.

Bye bye Hiatus?

4560692119_ab2d0088f0_oWow, wordpress changed its features. I haven’t been blogging since June, I guess. That’s like 3 months ago, no? I’m bad with Maths, you see.

Last night I had the weirdest dream. It was so weird that I actually partially woke up still spewing words of discontent then I started sobbing.

I vaguely remember the dream. As much as I remembered was just it was a club, we were playing pool, the girls were dressed in shorts and singlets. And suddenly I was out of the picture, prolly went to the toilet cos I do have a pregnant lady’s bladder, and came back to a raided table. So a few girls were standing facing some panel of policewomen jury. I am not kidding you, they were sitting on a higher table, all about four or five of them facing the girls who were standing. They were lecturing the girls’ outfits, saying its unethical and improper. Me being me of course, instead of running away, I joined the guilty standing ladies.

And suddenly, a few girls were told they can leave, leaving about four or five of us. The next thing we know, we were fined RM50. That was the moment I got outraged. I started voicing out my thoughts politely. I said how unfair it was that some girls were let go easily. If what we did was wrong, fine all of us. I told them my mother works with the police, and I grew up abiding the law, and what they are doing is totally ridiculous.

And like in most of my arguments, I started crying. That’s real, you know. I don’t do confrontations because of that. I start crying when I confront anyone, so I avoid confrontation by any means. Once, I confronted my roomate when I was 15 and as I was stating my points, I started pouring waterfall like a weak sappy baby.

Anyways, yes. Suddenly I was waking up while still talking, and when I stopped, I realised I was fully awake and sobbing. It was 6.30am.

It was a very weird dream.

But at least she wasn’t a part of it, this time.

12 months.

5642298716_3dd6fa67cc_oJune is ending and I should stick to the one-post-a-month rule I had for myself.

I just finished my second half marathon for this year. What seems to be a vain intent, has become a constant test of self-endurance.

It’s amazing how everything evolves. The rule of thumb for evolution, everything evolves. Your niat, your usaha, your keupayaan. Everything.

It has been a year. I don’t know what the benchmark is, but it has been a year. The reason will soon reveal itself slowly, like a mystery unwrapping itself. And serendipitous, we would be caught off-guard to its revelation.

I have lost the ability to yak and yak in words within a blogpost. I have lost and gain a lot of abilities, to be honest. But as everything evolves, everything also dies. As we move on to a new day, the past dies slowly on us. As we get closer to the end of our lives, we seem to have lost the ability to look back and wonder where we came from.

I have talked a lot within this one year. All talk and words, but no action. I have thrown a few calls for action, but I have yet to act upon them. Because I didn’t want to act without consent. Because that’s what we often do. We act without consent. Even though there are times we didn’t even need consent to begin with.

Silence kills us. Slowly but surely. Silence leads to assumptions that leads to fuck-ups.

But we will remain mum. Until the next time we’re able to tell each other how we feel.

A Fool in April

It’s that time of the month or probably that time of the year when I feel like I’m not doing anything right.

I’m beginning to think that it is no longer about being insecure. I seriously do think that I’m not walking any of my talks. Thus why, I can only find relief in writing.

There’s something about writing that detaches you from reality. But detachment from reality doesn’t mean it’s false facts. The great author Alan Moore once said, “It is important that a story ring true upon a human level, even if it never happened.” However, writing allows one to dwell on certain things that crosses one’s heart and mind, but not necessarily builds up the reality in one’s life.

When I was small, like 12 or something, I like to write short stories. I was never a bookworm despite my fetish and love for books. I can barely finish a book. That is mostly due to my short attention span. Unless the book is really really engaging, then I’d finish it. I’m now 29, and still struggling to finish almost 4 books that I’ve bought since 2007. I stopped writing when I started high school (13 yrs old) but when I was 17, my English teacher started this ‘journal’ project in class which got me to writing again.

Then, in uni, one of the lecturers pointed out my exam paper in class, called up my name and commented, “This person writes with flare.”

It’s been 9 years since I started writing, and Ever since I started a fulltime job since January this year, today is the first time, I’m missing writing so much that it makes me cry.

There comes a time when reality should be re-assess on its subjectivity.

The reality is that people are scared to follow their heart, because we don’t often take responsibility of how we feel. We either blame it on the menstrual cycle, our age, or the people around us. Even in love, we wait and wait for someone else to come, that will make us fall on our knees, head over heels, in love. We’re afraid to say, “You, yes you, I don’t know if You feel the same way, but you know what, I can feel that we’re right for each other, and I want to try to love you for just based on that feeling.”

Again, the weirdly great Alan Moore said,

Because things that we do without lust or result, are the purest actions that we shall ever take.

I just had a good chat with one of my soulmates who’s now working in Kabul. It’s nice to know that someone out there see the sensibility in the decisions that I will take in this near future.

I talk to you guys again in May, if I can find my way there.

meeting new people

i understand privacy. and the need to be secretive.


maybe i feed from human interaction.

i need to complete my chevening application. what’s left is only my personal statement and which uni to choose. LSE is a good option but do i dare the competitive environment? i am not a go-getter. fear of losing, i retract from any competition so i won’t be vulnerable to it.

anyways. yes. a supper with new people after a very long day at work. meeting new people feeds my soul. you learn a lot about human behaviour. and the best thing that makes me smile every single day, is when someone is able to open up to me in a way they would to a dear old friend.

and of course, i don’t neglect old friends. this year is the third year that i’m among the first 20 people who wished fynaz birthday. she’s like my dear sister, who will tell me off when i’m wrong and hug me tight when i needed the hug. …. and she doesn’t look 32 *woops*

here’s to … your happy heart! cheers ~