Bam

I almost shed tears. In fact I think I did. A sudden streak of inspiration, after a whole week of searching, and today... a refreshing getaway, followed by close to 12 hours of starvation and a night without sleep. Looking, pondering for something, anything, any idea that is feasible for this one project that I don't even feel like doing. I ponder about the stakes, the feasibility, the theme and the whole absurdity of it.

And bam, down is that inspiration.

For both easy references and a sneak peak, these are the two 'research' that eventually brought me into this thing:

and

If, and only if the idea get through the consultation... three hours from now, I'll probably get another headache thinking about the music, actors, technicalities and whatnot. But to hell with that - the future has had enough cannons to scare me. Another bit of jump scare won't change things that much.

Heatstroke

"Everybody finds love 
In the end

I can't believe we'll never meet again. 
I haven't told you anything yet. 
I haven't told you anything yet.

Looking upon the flowers scattering after they just opened, 
I wonder, is this the cheerlessness of this grove?

No matter how frightening it is, I won't look away 
if there is love at the end of everything."

~Sakura Nagashi, Utada Hikaru

I swear, early morning is the worst time to have a feverish dream. It brings out the absolute... worst. 

I always say things like "life is long" or "broken things can be fixed". But really, some ideas still haunt me. Like, the idea that every "see you later" is actually a lie, because we cannot be sure if we'll see each other in the same way again. The next time we meet, maybe one of us wouldn't be breathing. Maybe one of us would've suffered some deep damage during the time the other is away. Maybe circumstances would have changed somehow, and we couldn't talk like we always do before. I'd like to believe, even in this darkness of space I'm still floating in my orbital period. But even then stars can burn.

Isn't it scary? It's disturbingly frightening for me, because now it scares me more than it should be.

I will lay me down

Damn my worrywart gut. The universe should have re-scheduled my portion of stress and my pals'. You can't keep putting them in phase; I don't have that many bomb containers and frankly the series of continued mistiming is driving me mad. And there should be more paths available. I, by no means am a perfect person. When I keep seeing that many ways available, but with every one of them eventually leading into a pre-determined conclusion... that's just cheating, dude. I don't expect life to be fair but, come on.

Lady, my dear lady. Please get well soon. As I mentioned before, I'm aware it's never about me, this kind of things are largely about you and your needs. For this one, it does nothing but to remind me of my limitations. But it's fine. Sail on, silver girl, but take your time. Although it pains me to be in the dark, I shall wait. Right here, exactly, so you'll know where to find me should you feel the need to. That's what friends are for.

This world is ever changing. Places change, things happen, people move around and about. Sometimes, though, you may find yourself longing for an expectation you can be hopeful about. An expectation that something familiar will be there to comfort you during a momentarily break before another try at the foggy future. It is for that sake that I empty up tiny slots in my schedules for, more or less.

If this world makes you crazy and you've taken all you can bear, you call me up because you know I'll be there.

A long walk

A walk is overdue. A long walk. I need to cool down. To think. To ponder some issues. To untangle some dreaded knots; one at the bottom of my stomach, one at the mess of a garden and another at the aching part, somewhere near my lungs.

Fear and Sorrow

Because in such situation, logic has been evaporated in the flame of raw hatred. Gone is diplomacy, that much touted product of every talk shops. Gone is compassion, the very word they ironically have printed on their shirts.

Gone is peace. Truth has gone.

And there is nothing you can do about it. 

Do good, and they will take it as a fake. 

Reason, and you will be rebutted straight away in much higher decibels, probably before you can finish your first sentence. 

Cite virtues, and they will plug their ears inches away from you.

Fight back, and they will retaliate in the name of self defence and virtues.

Ignore, and they shall shout "hypocrite!" in your face.

Such madness; monstrous and destructive is their emotion. From wherever they came from, nobody could know. Is it a mutation of pride? Or has it been love at the start?

It's been happening; all around, haunting in so many levels, hurting the heart of people in so many ways. 

It is both scary and saddening. I am mourning.

On Being a 4 out of 10

My biggest weakness, as a pilot, is that I'm not very good at flying aeroplanes... I mean, I'm good enough, like the sims said, I'm, adequate, adequate to the task. But I don't do it easily. It's not second nature to me. On your scale of 1 to 10, if 1 is the bare minimum of competence, I'm..about a four. And I used to be a 1, no, I used to be a zero. And I took my CPL again, and again, and then I was a 1, then a 2 then a 3 now a 4. And I'm not finished yet, and that's why you should employ me, that's why you'd be lucky to employ me. Because if you're not naturally good at it, if you can't rely on just knowing how to do it like Doug..like some people can, then you have to be a perfectionist actually. And I am one! And that's why even when you've turned me down, I'm gonna to keep on applying, because flying is the perfect job, and I won't settle for a life where I don't get to do it!

~ Martin Crieff - Cabin Pressure by John Finnemore 


Prolly the best quote I've ever heard on a comedy programme. Some people simply know me a bit too well to be able to plant the right resources - I can always draw something out of them in times of need. Thanks again, Partner.

Nineteenth

What I saw on that day was an optimistic dreamer, gazing happily at the starless sky. A sleeping dragon that can possibly be majestic and terrifying at the same time.

And I told myself that I shouldn't lose, I shouldn't give up. I have to keep up, else I'd be left behind.

Oh. Ouch.

What a low blow.

I guess I shouldn't have underestimated the term 'writers' block' after all. The thing about having words and plots flows naturally most of the time is when the stream's dry, draught would soon follow.

It's not like I didn't have a silo of stock bunnies at that time. It was a spur of the moment, a formal prompt to churn out something on the spot, peer pressure, you name it. It felt wrong even as I penned it down. Horribly shallow and so unrefined I couldn't even bear to think properly about it. It was a mistake in so many levels, and the result was such a generic piece that was so out of place, disappointing all around.

This is exactly why it's so horrifying, to have one's greatest pleasure be put into a system as orderly as a school.

Nevertheless, there is no other option but to go forward, and brave the storm ahead I shall. School, as they say, is a place where you're supposed to make mistakes after all.

On the other hand, the old piece I am recycling (one of the more obscured products of the better time) is receiving some interest and that's kinda encouraging. If anything, there are two learning points taken:

1. No matter how tedious my mind can be, it knows my art better than some random mass lecturers.

2. That nagging, whimsical bugs of perfectionism are tiny and rare. They float and herd certain things around amidst the 'everything' that clutters my theoretical mental space. They are to be utilized very, very wisely.

When I'm gone, they'll say we're all fools and we don't understand

"And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure... And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you..."

...And now six years have already gone by... I have never yet told this story. The companions who met me on my return were well content to see me alive. I was sad, but I told them: "I am tired."

 ~Antoine de Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

Swing, mood, swing. Turn, fate, turn.

I haven't the heart to tell them. How should I go about alighting one's spirit, when I have but failed miserably at exactly that before? Still their happiness creates mine. The same goes for their sorrow.

The pillar must hold, even if it stands in solitude.

"Let us never lose the lessons we have learnt."

Failsafe

Found a photograph of my long missed old girl, nestled just there in the bottom of my pencil case. I planted it there myself. So when life reached a turbulance that caused all my work tools to flip over and fall off, I will be reminded of 'the light'. Lux ex tenebris. Comforting pool of warm memories of compassion and of hope. Distant friends, friends at heart, kind atrangers and those who are waiting, both in my past, present and future. Faith and the philosophy of love and redemption.

Meanwhile, the old puppy is sleeping like a log, peacefully.

Upon Awakening

"Who am I?" "Where did I come from?" "Where am I going?" I think these are the questions everyone is asking themselves constantly. I am not an exception.

I woke up from a state of dreamless restlessness to find it very peculiar, for me to be here at this very moment. My memory's almost a blur in the air. What have I been doing? I've done things I tried hard not to do before. I like my things to be simple and clean, yet there are a little too much cluttered confusion and tangled histories, pointless strifes and unnecessary facades.

Pointless. Why am I still entertaining this hideous and silly attempt of a stage play? Have I really fallen that low? It's pathetically horrible I can almost laugh at it without feeling the remorse. I blamed it on my weaknesses before, but something is still wrong. Where did I begin? How did something so precious become such a monster of an unspeakable shadow?

You, who I can trust to slap my face should I falter on my way.



There's an ideal founded by a desire to embrace everything. That I should always do these things: make my own bed, confront myself and right my wrongs. There's a sad world driven mad by fear and thrown into unrest - to what extend can I love it?

Friend! I call for your aid. Will you support me this time?

Locke

Locke's socks might not be his old ones, but that piece of cloth over there is now fitting the very same pair of feet they should have the title as well.

Although, it's a bit hard to recall the old pattern when so much part of cloth have been renewed and updated. But is it really the details in the fabric we have to pay attention to?

I recall a surge of emotion of some sort. I was one with the stream of knowledge, wired to channels I've never thought of before, ecstatic with the awakening of awareness. For once a love of learning was not a mere empty phrase. I allowed myself to be impressed, to be tuned to the foreign frequency. It was something that shouldn't be allowed to be transient in nature, at least for me. There were them and there were you. It was fun. It's not to be forgotten.

For the March(ing) Boy

"How is it going with her? Made it official yet?"

"Nah. Relationship status is merely a status."

"So the important thing is something else?"

"Yeah."

Now -that- is my brother. He seems to understand 'the thing'. Nineteen years old, and quite a fine young man he's turning into, bit by bit.

Happy birthday, brother dear. Lots of love, luck and blessing in your life and may there be nothing to cast dark shadow on it.

Quite a motivation I got from that short phone call. Managed to work until three just now (still on '40 days art school without coffee' vow) and now i really need to sleep.

Nights!

Angels

"So when I'm lying in my bed
Thoughts running through my head
And I feel that love is dead
I'm loving angels instead

And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfallWherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call she won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead"

Lent List

So I intend to swear off:
1. Meat
2. Chocolate/Coffee (possibly both)
3. Alcohol (thanks, Teach)
4. Pessimism
5. Resentment

..Amen to that.

This time of year, a year ago

I couldn't bear to write anything generic for my juniors. I'd say it holds no meaning when I couldn't understand whatever they are thinking of, in their probable celebration or otherwise. I'd say that, because I know how it feels to experience it myself.

Around this time I was sitting in that jazz bar, letting all my emotions running my tears off for once, surrounded by a most supportive group of friends I had - my fellow batch mates. I say most supportive, although probably they were just being at the right place at the right time, but they were there. One of them lending me a kind shoulder and a pillow to cover my face and the others giving me both the privacy and the comfortable silence I needed.

It's not over, they said. "There's more to your life and yourself, don't forget that. It was not even that bad. What you're comfortable of doing does not even correlate much with this. Our opinions of you are unchanged and of those who did change, they probably are those that do not even matter." or something along those lines. 

Still, the blow was huge. Being me, I was devastated to shreds. A day after, I went to watch ICN and broke down even before the show started. There were a few times in which I felt truly lost. It was one of them. Now though, it just added another layer of meaning to this whole redeeming thing.

On A Great Tribute to the Royal Dance

In the end, maybe I'm indeed just a feather in the air. But I'd say the feather has been doing things during its fleeting flight. This is an unsung story.