What I'm feeling

Exactly why I am feeling whatever I am right now is not the topic of this post. The topic is simply, what I’m feeling. Duhh.

Some emotions are complicated, and require an endless pondering to decipher.

Others are simple; like simple enough to sum up in a few words.

I’m effing pissed.

See? Simple emotion. Nothing complicated to it at all, other than the fact that I’d rather be experiencing a happy, though complicated emotion.

So I’m effing pissed, though I’d really rather not be.

Why am I pissed? It’s because I’ve been unjustfully shoved out of the way. It kinda feels like one of those little kids who stalk a red ant and when the time is opportune, flick it off the edge of a fence or something else that’s equally high and watch it flail on the way down. Now the only problem with that grammatically skewed scenario is that I’m the bloody red ant. And I didn’t even bite anyone! Here I was happily crawling along the edge, da dum da dum, *Flick*, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah – splat.

So I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a red ant which is now a blot on the floor.

It’s like getting an electric shock. It’s called a shock because you don’t expect it. It just happens. Zap! And you’re left with a sore, slightly burnt, and horrible feeling finger or whatever appendage it was.

So I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a sore and slightly burnt red ant which is now a blot on the floor.

Don’t you hate it when you miss a step? One minute you’re happily (albeit preoccupied) walking and then whoosh the floor seems to disappear under your feet. You might or might not slam something into the ground depending on how quick your reaction time is, but you nevertheless feel either stupid or embarrassed. Now it all has to do with trust. We trust our feet to hit the top of the step and propel ourselves up; like when your friend offers you a seat, you trust that the seat bloody stays there. I feel like the seat has been pulled away at the last second, thus acquainting my posterior with the floor. Now sure it might all be in good humor, but it still hurts like crazy.

So how do I feel?

I’m effing pissed and though I’d really rather not be, I feel like a sore and slightly burnt red ant which has missed a step and whose posterior has met the acquaintance of the floor which it is now a blot on.

See? Simple emotion.

Mole Station

There’s no easy way to say this. There might be a harder way, but there’s certainly no easy way. So I guess I’ll just have to say it.

I… errrr…. I… I….. I’ve been… uh… been….. molested.

There.

I said it.

I was molested by a “friend” of mine named (Undisclosed) who’s also known to have molested 7 others. I’m not alone!

Yeah and there you were, happily sitting behind your keyboard thinking that blind dates were dangerous.

It happened with no warning. It happened out of the blue. It happened sometime during the day though I only found out about it at night when he smsed me telling me so. And because I’ve been molested, I’ve now got an insane compulsion oozing out from the bottom of my, uh…. well... erhhhh… heart (what were you thinking?!) to write about four things I love and four things I hate.

No, no, no not thaaaaaaat kind of molestation. What on earth made you think that?

In all truthfulness, I’ve been molested tagged by ma buddy Sean (How cud you!). It effectively cuts down the trauma and recovery time while still getting me to write about 4 things I love and loath.

Now without further delay:

I Love parkour. Most of you who know me will have realized by now that my hyperactive (when not emo) lifestyle has been channeled into the discipline that is parkour. Through it I have come to be more self aware, more analyzing, more in control of my emotions, more in control of my movement, more positive, more confidant, slightly more altruistic, and always seeking self improvement (just to name a few). From the utilitarian point of view you might argue that the qualities listed have nothing to do with parkour itself. From my personal experience though, parkour was the catalyst that helped bring about these changes. That’s why I said “through parkour”.

But enough rambling.

I Hate it when people put on a façade in front of me. I just can’t stand it when someone puts up a front to be “cool”. The only cool people I know are those who are truly themselves in front of me, doing nothing to try to impress me. I’m impressed by sheer honesty, or rather the lack of trying hard to impress me (and so the “irony gods” smile). As a result cool people come few, far, and hard for me. But I’ll be honest. It is something of a battle within myself too; the need to impress. And I know for sure that there is someone on the opposite side of the world, who’s going to read this, and who’s feeling exactly the same way I do (nudge nudge). I always wonder, is it simply me being many people, or are there many ‘me’s?

I Love deep conversation. Though getting harder to come by in these days and these parts, I still cherish it, and will cherish it till the day I take my last breath. This is probably related to my draw towards honesty. And for you hopefuls out there, just to let you know, I don’t care if you’re hotter than a Mexican burrito tied to an acetylene torch; if we can’t talk deep, you’re out.

Hmmmmm…. That was perasan.

I Hate my nightmares. And by hate I mean the “despise and detest with all my spleen heart” kind of hate (still haven’t read that John Donne thing). Some of you already know that I don’t sleep well because of a constant plague of repetitive nightmares. The rest will know now. Pick an episode between one and fifty and you have an instant terror that’s been washed, rinsed, and repeated. And if I’m not having a nightmare, I’ll be having a lucid dream. Now those are fun but we all know that you wake up at the end of one. That effectively means that I don’t get good rest anyway. I wouldn’t really mind if they’re all lucid but URGH stupid nightmares. I think they call them that cause they’re supposed to be scary. Why is it that even though it’s the 100^th time I’m having the same nightmare, I’ll still wake up either sweating or scared shitless in catatonic terror? You’d think I’d get bored but noooooooo, nature meticulously crafts certain fears in such a way that I can’t overcome them. If I told you about all my dreams you’d probably find my lucid dreams scarier (oh what my evil little mind can come up with when offered the possibility of defying reality) but to me, nightmares are exactly that which they are. Nightmares. You might think I’m being funny about this or something but that’s only because the majority of you have never seen me scared. Nervous, maybe. Scared, no. Now catch me waking up from one of those and you’ll know what I’m like when I’m scared shitless.

I Hate nightmares.

I Hate nightmares.

I Hate nightmares.

Just kidding… I can deal with it.

I think.

I Love magic. Come on, you knew this was coming. All those hours of practice are made worth it with a single success. Sure I still get caught on the rare occasion but most of the time? Oh darn the look on your face where’s my camera I have to get a picture of that it looks so effin funny I wish you could see it! No offence or anything. I mean come on, its equal trade. The way I see it, you get entertained, and so do I. Sure you walk away feeling stumped and I’ll do likewise but feeling smug, but I still think it’s a fair trade. Haha. It’s just so fun to know that you are the sole cause of whatever reaction your audience is giving you atm, whether it be applause, laughter, or shocked silence.

I Hate intransigent/dogmatic people (people who insist on being right). Cynical is fine. I’m cynical. But please for the sake of everyone else like me, don’t fool yourself into thinking that you know everything, cause you don’t - Period. And when you realize that you’re losing an argument discussion, don’t “bow out graciously (trip, bonk, splat)”. Admit it. And don’t ever act like you’re right or know more just because you’re older. I’d like the scientists at NASA to say that to the 15yo kid who cracked their servers and commented on the source code of one of their multi billion dollar projects, describing it as “flawed”. Brilliant. Now I’m starting to sound like a young, dogmatic kid who thinks he knows best just cause he’s perceptive. Seriously though, we got something to learn from everyone. Don’t close your mind to new thoughts just because they’re coming from someone you’re not tight with. Agree with ‘em or no, remember that all truths are to a certain degree subjective. That includes your truths.

I Love the people that I am tight with; some of my family, some of my friends, simply those that are close. I would not be the person I am today if it were not for ya’ll. The choices I’ve made and the choices you have; It’s all lead up to the person I am today. Now I know I’m far from perfect but I don’t think I’d give up any part of my life for anything else (except those nightmares). Even then, they’ve granted me a certain degree of maturity which prolly could not be wrought from anywhere else. Oh, yeah, back to ma buddies. Basically what I’m saying is that without the bunch of you I’d be a much sadder, less social, computer screen hugging kid who was uh… sad, not really social, and computer screen hugging. (Detachedly observes some of you sheepishly stop hugging their keyboards) Of course those aren’t exactly the ideals I hold dear to me but… No… That’ll be for another post. Anyways, if I haven’t already said so, I’d like you to know that I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I love ya’ll!

*Sigh, I just noticed I’ma end with a hate this way. So depressing*

I Hate people who expect respect from me where it is not due. If you are a stranger, I’ll treat you with a stranger’s respect. If you are an adult, I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve, not the respect you can commandeer. If you’re a peer, I’ll treat you with the same respect I’d treat an adult with. If you’re a friend I’ll treat you with every respect you can hold (great being my friend huh). If you’re a kid, I’ll treat you like a runt. Crike did I actually type that out loud?! Nahhh I’m just kidding. In all seriousness, a particular 13yo buddy of mine (you know who you are) has managed to hold more respect in my eyes than many other adults simply because he’s saved my ass more times than Britney Spears has shaken hers (nudge poke nudge [my friend, not Britney Spear’s ass]). The same goes to everyone really. You get the respect you deserve so don’t expect more when you haven’t done anything to earn it. Sorry if I come off as offensive but no matter who you are, I treat everyone as an equal until they’ve shown me otherwise. Besides, what makes you deserve more respect anyway? I’ll treat you when and where respect is due, and in the areas which it is due. Don’t be getting a bloated head like me.

Anyways now that I’ve gotten that outta my system, I get to molest 8 people!

Sarah W (you know you want to)

Daniel T from church

Eugene from the drums

Leanne (happy belated bday!)

Jon on his guitar

Hannah from behind the plush black leather chair with the psych degree asking me "so how does that make you feel?"

Julia behind the mic

Lewis from the toilet =D

P.s.

>Sean I'm not doing all those tags now. Some other time. Haha

>Just discovered I've been tagged by Huey Sing too. Haiz too lazy to re-write. Sorry...

Murphy's Law

Pull the pin, throw the grenade.

Pull the pin, throw the nade.

Pull the nade, throw the pin.

April's Fool

Look carefully into a mirror everyday and you'll soon discover that the person gazing back at you, always changes.

One day, Charming.
The next day, Sullen.
One day, Eccentric.
The next day, Jaded.


A soldier will gaze at his reflection and see the horrors he had faced, endured.
And whether or not he is better from it, does not matter.

A conqueror will gaze at his reflection and ponder on the horrors he has caused.
And whether or not he is better from it, does not matter.

An old man will squint at his reflection and remember all the choices he made in his life.
And whether or not he is better from them, does not matter.

A child will stare at his reflection and might, just might, wonder at what is to come.
And whether or not he is better of from his speculations, does not matter.


And why does it not matter?
Because they are only reflections.
Ghosts.
Representations of what we think we are.

But what are we in the end?
Are we what we see in the mirror?
Reflections clouded and tinted by the echoes of life?
Misrepresentations wrought by wishful thinking?

Or are we, simply;
What we choose to be.


If so, then we must choose with deliberated haste,
For apathy would be a death of sorts.

And so I'll choose not to be the fool in the mirror that which I saw.

The Battle

It was horrible.

Words were tossed back and forth with no discretion whatsoever.

A hateful jab here, a spikeful retort there.

My heart raced with the frustration!

For ages I had been trying to crack him.

I had to admit, he was a tough one, and it was my first time.

And then he nicked me.

He actually nicked me!

He had dared to draw first blood; a minor cut, but symbolic of aggression nonetheless.

I picked up my bowie knife, flourished once;

And then we were beyond words.

I slashed wildly, resorting to primal instinct.

But he circumvented every blow.

I attempted to be more methodical, calculative, and instead tried to exploit his weaknesses.

But alas even that path proved futile.

Never before had I encountered an opponent so battle hardened!

The skirmish continued for several minutes.

I started growing weary.

He was making me waste my strength by letting me revert to slashing wildly.

Oh so weary.

Then I caught him.

I had him beneath my hand, pinning him to the ground.

With no mercy,

No quick witted finale,

I plunged.

I rammed my knife down, driving my blade almost a third of the way through;

Abandoning the last of my finesse, I pressed down.

I pressed my palm on the back of the blade to drive it deeper.

And with one final burst of strength, I severed him neatly in two pieces!

There he lay, underneath my wet ragged cloth,

Bowie knife triumphant.

Silenced forever.



And then through death, he dealt his final blow.

He was not even ripe!



It explained why he was so hard to crack open.

I followed the lines,

I did!

But never mind that.



There will always be more durians to open.

Highlight of my Week

Dear Thelma,

I met M 52 minutes ago. She was introduced to me through a friend of mine (L), and I thought she was a rather nice person. I did notice that she was in a distraught state though, having just been caught in a minor accident. She woefully told me of how her parents would kill her if they found out, and ban her from ever driving the Honda again. She made it sound like the entire bonnet had been crumpled like a sardine can. In reality, the top of the first letter in her number plate, a "B", had cracked and fallen off somewhere irrecoverable. It was 7pm on a Friday night and all the nearby mechanic shops had already closed. To make matters more complicated, she was acting in a drama which was to start at 8.30pm. With time running out, she hopped in the car with L and took off to the nearest ACE hardware store. There, they purchased a white "no parking" sign, a saw, and some super glue. I met them as they pulled into a parking space, and we immediately began cracking our heads on how to temporarily fix her number plate. The plan was to create a passable impression of a "B" so that her parents would not notice it in the night, then take it for actual repairs the next day. We began sawing off our first little piece, when a call came. Her parents were on the way to see her drama! She began panicking again but was calmed down by L. At that point another car pulled into the adjacent parking space. It was a mutual acquaintance of me and L that did not know M either (J). Being helpful, he came over to investigate and immediately became part of our impromptu repair team. Then another call came with even worse news. Time had finally run out; M and L had to go backstage to put on their make up. Thinking we were up to the job, me and J told them to go quickly. So hastily they went on their way, leaving us two boys crouching down in front of an expensive car belonging to someone else that neither of us really knew, fiddling with a saw and a piece of plastic.

So dear Thelma, my dilemma is rather simple.

What the heck do I do if her parents park near by, recognize the car, and come over?

Awkward Boy




Ps, this all actually happened, with perhaps a bit of drama added...

Okay, maybe a lot of drama added.

And if you're wondering, we didn't encounter her parents.

Thank God.

Torn Up

I haven't updated in ages.

I know.

It was a busy December but I came out of it with nothing much to say. At least, nothing that's not already been said, out loud, a million times. If the words didn't make it online some other way then I'm sorry but you'll have to wait till I'm in the mood. Meanwhile I'll sit here enjoying the power I have over the possible non-dissemination of my December holidays.

I know.

What the heck right?

Well January went by in a blur too and my birthday? It was, hehehhh, well, if you weren't there then you weren't there.

So sue me for being in a bad mood. I’m a sucker for brooding.

But at the same time I’m a sucker for indecision, always trapped between two choices; or very well maybe eleven. Squeeze the pressure and I’ll most often choose the right one, provided “right” doesn’t become too subjective, but if you let me sit down and not choose, if it suits me I certainly will.

But why does “right” sometimes have to be so darn hard?

My aforementioned bad mood would be because of two people very dear to me that have left to go back to the states. One of them I am still getting used to not having around (Yes I still miss Sarah), and the other; hurts. Pressure and rationality causes us to make choices that we know we must make, no matter how painful it is, or how much you sacrifice in the process.

That’s what I have to keep reminding myself.

How do two people part, knowing that neither wants to, nor ultimately has to? Knowing that following this choice, both will walk away will a special affinity that may fade into either a beautiful friendship, or one which may never fade at all. And that while the years go by, each and either will move on, or linger behind in memories. A hopeful ‘nother cannot compete with a treasured memory. So the one who may linger behind will be trapped not in indecision, but in a cage delicately crafted by devotion.

But what of the alternative; to keep the beautiful treasure alive, even though it would be stretched thin by thousands of miles. The result is the same, but with a more immediate effect and utmost certainty. I cannot bear to bind her in a cage, and it matters not if she wants to be bound, for time will break down that cage and shatter the treasure, casting its shards aside like the dead leaves of a tree in a storm; lost and mostly irrecoverable.

So I choose to leave myself torn in the right decision, as does she, and I can only hope for the strength to pull us both through. I hope it is the right choice, to be trapped in no cage, and to hold onto the slowly fading radiance of what we had as it slips through my fingers.


A world of dew,
and within every dewdrop
a world of struggle

~Issa, 1763-1827~