Thursday, June 30, 2011

Remember Me...?

For he or she alone who walks that path will know how much it hurt, how their feet scorched from the burning heat, how the sharp pebbles pierced their skin, how the ware and tear tore at their flesh, how their bodies slowly broke down to bits and pieces before their own eyes, how their spirits were crushed little by little till non was left , and how much they appreciated having the importance of a destination ."

I remember writing this a long time ago to commemorate the memory of an incident that took place sometime back. Although I look back now and think that maybe it wasn't all that great a brouhaha and there is little I can recall from the events that lead me to write this, whenever I recall this sentence, I remember that at that time I was in great pain. I needed an outlet to secretly vent so I wrote this in a letter which  I posted in a blog post which only a few close friends knew about. At that time it felt right and somehow whoever read it understood what I was trying to say and reached out to me. 

Recently several new incidents took place in my life. Needless to say they were a whole string of very upsetting events but somehow I wasn't as upset or as grief stricken as I should have been.Under normal circumstances I would have been all over the place crying loud crisis instead here I was not running around amok. I found this lack of emotional affinity a little amusing and quite disturbing. Over the weeks I moved around and about as if nothing was happening although my life continued to be sucked into great turmoil. 

A few days ago I remembered this letter I wrote and tried to look it up again, I sought out the sentence and somehow now its gotten stuck in my head. It felt suitable to my current condition. After reading this sentence over and over again I am slowly beginning to realize that just because it doesn't hurt anymore it doesn't mean the pain has disappeared instead it just means that Ive gotten used to living with it and for what its worth I remember how it hurt, it hurt a lil lot like hell.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

I remember how it felt....

Time will heal everything. It should and it does...sometimes. 
I sat down to do a lil reading in the mph yestadee and then I remembered how much I hated that place. I hated it because you could see everybody going in and out of the campus grounds. I especially hated the part where I saw people leaving and going home wishing to myself why couldn't that be me. Lectures used to be right up to 6pm and the travel home used to take at least 1.5 hours. 

To avoid the thoughts I would opt to sit in the library, reading room, cafe or not to mention the many other numerous lil nook and crannies around the campus however the cafe used to be always be crowded and the tables would be dirty, the reading room used to be crowded and noisy to the extent sometimes you couldn't even hear yourself think and the library well used to be so full that there was hardly any sitting place sometimes and the nook and crannies sometimes their there sometimes their not. So back to sad miserable mph where you've got ample sitting area fans that run at full speed but only blow hot air in your face, a patch of yellowing on the verge of dying green turf staring at you in the face begging for you to throw the leftovers in your water bottle to them and the flow of people walking in and out as they stomped their feet like their life depended on it. 

As I sat down yestadee it dawned on me how much it didn't feel like such a pain anymore instead it actually felt a lil nice.The early afternoon blazing sun had just set and the it was moving into the mild afternoon heat wave. A soft whistle of the air as it gushed in and out of narrow vents blew occasionally. The soft squeaking of the fan motor and the laud gushing of the fan blades as it swept the air around was calming. And even the green turf somehow didn't look so dead anymore maybe because of the light drizzle earlier. Either that or they were using grass dye. Anyhoo the point that I deduced at that very point was that I could change. I thought I wouldn't like it but now I'm okay with it. I then realized that there were so many other things and predispositions of my life that I disliked. What if I gave it time? Could I change the way I felt about them later? 

If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it.  ~Mary Engelbreit

Friday, January 21, 2011

LiFealiciously tasty: written January 3rd, 2010

“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” Bill Vaughn quotes

How is thous' life measured ohh wise one. Is it by the rattle sound of a full pocket of gold coins,..or a bustling social life filled with connections and endless engagements,..or a row of diplomas stapled to the wall bearing testament to academic feats,..or a successful and satisfying enough carrier to shove one out of the bed and into office,..or a broad mind filled with delightfully tasty experiences and adventures collected from travels around the world,..or by the right hands giving or doing which the left knows nothing about,,..or is it simply by the peaceful comfort received from knowing that the special one has been met, and love has been equally reciprocated.  HmMmMmMm And if so how close has the new year brought us to our innings or life accomplishments. Whatever or whichever it is that one chooses to measure the fullness of their life with, I hope it be filled with good prospects and even better opportunities. May all our life conquests be blessed with the beginning of the new year.”Happy New Year”.

“Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right. Oprah Winfrey quotes

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

90ies Persona

Haih , I'm a nineties person. Thats such a random statement but its true. I am a nineties person. Its weird but again true. In my personal opinion the nineties was a great era because it was the time where we completed the transition from retro to trendy. People somehow began to look out the box and somehow everything came together and made sense. But thats not really why I'm a nineties person. The real reason that spurred my deep interest in that time was because of the media. Everything  I read, watched or listened to was changing after being touched by the nineties. And I liked it very much. It was at this time that I took to watching movies and listening to music. The new age of RnB hip hop and boy-bands was...a phase I wont forget. And then there were movies like space jam and toy story that I could watch over and over again and never feel bored with. I like to think of it like a wave. One that carrying a strong message with it. That the millennium  was here and it was bringing new changes along with it. haih I love the nineties so much.

Sunday, November 21, 2010


Once a week I get inspired and feel alive every time during the same time for a duration of about 3-4 hours in the presence of the same company. This inspiration is more than the average help as it is my required dosage that helps me maintain my sanity and keeps me thinking straight in the wake of problems. My problem begins much later when the instigated inspiration wears off  from my body. What then do I do for the the next 6 days and +hours. How do I keep myself staying inspired to keep to the right track and stay on it. How do I keep the right frame of mind the rest of the week to decide and differentiate on whats wrong and whats right. Most of all how on earth do I keep the inspiration coming non-stop without having fallen and if so not failing to get up.

Someone wise will tell me to step up and find inspiration within. All that of course sounds very nice, except that its not. No I  don't find inspiration or at least the idea of it inside me intriguing and even if it is somewhere inside me wedged between my bloody organs Its hard to find because it chooses to stay hidden and otherwise quite frankly I think the whole idea is stupid to begin with. So in a bid to find a temporary solution to my problem I now avoid problems. How do I avoid it? I stay hidden at home. See, if I stay hidden indoors at home I wont have to go out and look for problems and therefore don't seek inspiration to have to face and fix anything. So my life instantly becomes easy. Now what happens if problems come finding me at my door step. Then Ill have no choice but to fix it then and there unwillingly of course but still at least in the comfort and security of my comfort zone.

So far this arrangement has worked out well for me and its all good. In a perfect world, self-exile would work really well for me and I'm all up for the idea "but" it has come to my attention lately that this is apparently not a way to live ones life mine being the one in question. So now I'm supposed to go out more often and find inspiration outside more often and face my problems more often. Again frankly I think its a whole load of humbug that makes sense in the wake of my sad denial. So while I enjoy reaping the benefits of being in self-exile by having not to motivate myself and face any problems and slowly disintegrate into a vegetable I will try to find a new way to keep inspired, Hopefully soon>>>

The ideal place for me is the one in which it is most natural to live as a foreigner.
Italo Calvino

Monday, October 18, 2010

Again & Again

Its that time again. Nearly 2 years down this road and you would expect that I would at least be one step closer to accepting my fate and coming to terms with this horrid place. Not even close>,< I still despise it as much as ever. I still loathe it and wish t would burn down to the ground. But then that's just wishful thinking now isnt it. The clever thing to do would be to accept my fate as it is and try to move forward. Haih... easier said then done. Am so not looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow is going to be another torture of 2 months. I must look at the bigger picture. Just work at it and get the bloody hell out of here in one piece. Im doing this for a reason and I mustn't forget that. Eventually it all boils down to that. WHY I DO WHAT I DO.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Feeling at home ^L^

~Home is where the heart is. It smells like home, tastes like home, sounds like home, looks like home and even feels like home. But sadly it isn't home at least not anymore.~

I love coming back to Penang. I don't know why but it just makes me feel happy to be somewhere I can relate to. Every time I come to Penang house I notice the little changes made to the house here and there and although the house is in much better shape than it was 15 years ago its different and become somehow distant from me. In my mind the house lives as a fragment of my memory while growing up. It was the place I spent 7 years of my life and although it was the hardest of times it was the happiest moments I lived as a family. But the harsh truth now is in reality every existing evidence that once bore testament to the life my family and I lived here has been erased by a fresh coat of paint, new furniture sittings and renovations. All the rooms of the old house welcome me like one of the many strangers that have over the years spent their nights here. It doesn't  remember me and doesn't recognize me anymore.
Its sad but every time I come back here I try to find my place here. I try to fit in or blend in with the house so that I can make myself feel at home again. But its not there. Ive lost that feeling. I lost the feeling of feeling at home the day I left my home many years ago. I left it there alongside the many other priceless possessions I had to leave behind like my toys and teddy bears and school bag and books and ...more. Although over the years Ive literally found myself a new place to live it doesn't quite feel like home. To me it just feels like a temporary lodge or  pit stop before I resume my long journey called life.
As I watch the sun set and rise on this amazing bustling island I wonder to myself; Will I ever feel at home again? Its been such a long time, would I even know what it feels like? I do hope that someday I might be able to come back here again and make up for lost times. But then again I don't really know anything for sure anymore. All I do know is that I can hope that one day I know what it feels like again and when I do , Id like to share it with a family that will be waiting for me to come home to them.