From a robustly rational perspective - why would a reasonable adult believe in a woman who lived several thousand years ago (if she even lived at all), much less seek comfort from a projected belief in her untainted heart and limitless patience?
The drift of the question is hard to refute; it is the wrong question to raise. It is not whether such a woman exists, but what it tells us about the desolation the human race is bound to face. The need to invent her reveals our emotional requirements, or rather, what becomes of those demands when we lose our way.
In the broadest sense, our emotional requirements speak of the extent to which, despite our adult powers of reasoning, our responsibilities and societal roles, the needs of childhood endures within us. While for long stretches in out adult lives we can believe in our maturity, we almost never succeed in insulating ourselves against the kind of catastrophic events that sweep away our ability to reason, our courage and will to put pain into perspective and throw us back into a state of primordial helplessness.
The ability to reason is a suppressed by a sense of doom, by a change so drastic it takes our breath away. Along comes the resentment, why do us humans have a desire to adore passionately? This need to believe in others, to love and serve them and find them in a perfection which eludes us in ourselves.
Simply put, this is the foundation for every argument between two adults in a committed relationship - "Why can't you be more perfect?"
In the heat of passionate adoration, we fail to remember that human beings are flawed creatures worthy of forgiveness and patience. We insist that these objects of adoration should be divine rather than human.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Against a memory
I grew up in a haze of darkness, and as with any of us afflicted with unpopular idiosyncrasies and solitude – I rebelled and fell further down. The day I decided to turn my life around I started running. Some weeks I ran every day. And this, literally saved my life.
Running has saved my life. It cleared the haze.
Months ago my life took for another painful turn. I then doubled my running distance and ran faster and faster. Emotionally, it’d helped a great deal. But extremity does not go unpunished – I started to limp and eventually the pain crept into my sleep and became unbearable.
I succumbed to seeing an orthopaedic. Two, in fact..
I was born with discoid lateral meniscus. This deformity affects 3% of the world's population. With an oddly shaped meniscus I am not meant for high impact sports. Doctors have confirmed that I am to never run again, for risk of shattering my left meniscus completely. The news broke me. That night when my family had gone to bed, with doom circulating above me I cried myself to sleep.
This is the absence to watch in wonder – I can’t learn such blankness, can’t buy or excavate it from reality no matter how I claw at the walls, reason was already vanishing as I begin to reflexively lose myself - reduced to a faint vibration, the sound of soft inchoate static.
Recommended to undergo surgery as soon as possible, it was set for a few days later. The next few days I alternated between silence, resentment, stillness and sometimes rage. By and large I was irritable and unpleasant to those close to me. I didn’t take well to friends who were trying to get me to see the silver lining – because to me this predicament erases just that.
I bit back or shut down whenever anyone says I could find something else to do - it felt callous, insensitive and stupid. Betrayed, the one thing that made me a better person was snatched away so abruptly, so coolly, so cruelly. Betrayed, the best choice I’d made in this life chooses to turn its back. Enraged, it felt like everyone was trivializing my condition. Enraged, I failed to see that there really was nothing else anyone could say.
My sister Joyce panicked when she realized how miserable I was and in a flurry proclaimed that she would give me her knees if she could. As soon as she said the words I knew I had to abandon this morose sulk of a person I had become. To have my sister who I love more than anything else in the world say such a thing – I have more than most people will in a lifetime.
I've just had surgery to trim and remove most of my right meniscus which I had smashed while running on road. All that’s left now is a thin layer. My cartilage is just as thin, worn out. I will be receiving weekly jabs of Hyalgen to improve joint fluidity. Soft tissues were damaged, and muscles have shut down causing the limp.
I was awake during the surgery. I chose to watch and listen as bits of my knee were removed. With the removal of these pieces it felt as though as it’d also removed part of my spirit. I trawl myself for identity, a meaningless journey.
I was told it would take at least six weeks on crutches and six months of physiotherapy to full recovery. I pushed hard during the first session of post-surgery physiotherapy – I thought of all the pain I had endured through bad decisions, knowing that this time, this pain will be one that would amount to something good. And it paid off, I was then told differently – that I will recover much faster, scaling down to four months, maybe three.
I’m taking it a day at a time, and thankfully I had fallen in love with climbing. When I’m better I will head back to the gym to get stronger and in four months back to the climbing gym to get better.
When one door closes in a slam – it may not open another. But it sure is an awakening. Whether it is for the better or worse, that’s really a choice that I have the luxury to make.
That’s the lesson learnt – never dismiss the luxury of choice.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Grains of sand
The things I write here are usually things that I don't speak of in day-to-day conversation. My thoughts are in a silo, and only I can slide down its darkness.
I operate on a timescale of necessary myopia. In light of recent discovery, my conscious present lives in the narrow rivulets of an hourglass's trickle. I feel every grain of sand - every minute - in a steady rush through and around life. The networks and webs I weave around myself, as a piece of the puzzle - as a puzzle on my own. I operate on a different rhythm altogether, stumbling down the narrow rivulets of some flimsy hourglass, whose great trickle I can only hope to glimspe as I tumble haphazardly through time.
Discovery gives me an intimation of this brevity. It tells me of borrowed time, broken hearts, unturned pages of books, greying hair - all the things which I thought would be at the bottom of the silo had I have the luxury of time. I would last forever - seemingly ineradicable, seemingly incontestable.
Discovery leads to a strange feeling and I am assailed by a quake of evanescance - I am anything but inevitable, let alone invincible. How strange it is to be anything at all..
However - the next few months (or years) will be positively energetic. I will read more books, see more of the ocean, pound more gravel, play my music at an even louder volume and be as much of ME I can be.
I can't tell if a straw ever saved a drowning man, but I know that a mere glance is enough to make despair pause. For in truth we who are creatures of impulse are not creatures of despair.
Chance, Joseph Conrad (1913)
I operate on a timescale of necessary myopia. In light of recent discovery, my conscious present lives in the narrow rivulets of an hourglass's trickle. I feel every grain of sand - every minute - in a steady rush through and around life. The networks and webs I weave around myself, as a piece of the puzzle - as a puzzle on my own. I operate on a different rhythm altogether, stumbling down the narrow rivulets of some flimsy hourglass, whose great trickle I can only hope to glimspe as I tumble haphazardly through time.
Discovery gives me an intimation of this brevity. It tells me of borrowed time, broken hearts, unturned pages of books, greying hair - all the things which I thought would be at the bottom of the silo had I have the luxury of time. I would last forever - seemingly ineradicable, seemingly incontestable.
Discovery leads to a strange feeling and I am assailed by a quake of evanescance - I am anything but inevitable, let alone invincible. How strange it is to be anything at all..
However - the next few months (or years) will be positively energetic. I will read more books, see more of the ocean, pound more gravel, play my music at an even louder volume and be as much of ME I can be.
I can't tell if a straw ever saved a drowning man, but I know that a mere glance is enough to make despair pause. For in truth we who are creatures of impulse are not creatures of despair.
Chance, Joseph Conrad (1913)
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Booksbane
The most perplexing part of packing (tongue twister!) is "Which book(s) to bring.."
By and large, there are several determinants: How much time would I have to read? Leading to, how many should I bring? What would I feel like reading at the time. Degree of distress if this one got wet at the beach. Should I bring books that I've read before in case I am interrupted regularly?
While sieving through those questions I've packed my clothes and is already staring at the bookshelf. Why is this always so tricky..
Why is it bothering me in the middle of the work day that I have not picked out which book OR books (ARGH) to bring??
By and large, there are several determinants: How much time would I have to read? Leading to, how many should I bring? What would I feel like reading at the time. Degree of distress if this one got wet at the beach. Should I bring books that I've read before in case I am interrupted regularly?
While sieving through those questions I've packed my clothes and is already staring at the bookshelf. Why is this always so tricky..
Why is it bothering me in the middle of the work day that I have not picked out which book OR books (ARGH) to bring??
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Heart, and lack thereof
The contrast between life and living cuts two ways. Less people, less unsolicited hearsay, no blackholes where a variety of "-ships" sail past into a vanishing point, no days where the skyline shades off into monotone, where even the most insistent pain fails to reveal weakness. no sense of complete abandon.
At the risk of essentializing an entire condition, these pills are a jolting contrast with freedom. But there is a different sense of freedom with respect to drug interaction, binding together to keep from fading. Conversation seems to average out several decibels higher, there is a kind of inclusiveness that i used to be accustomed to - but now find invasive. Warped as it may be, but my idiosyncrasies has fed off this different sense of freedom.
Throwing glitter into the wide open sky, that's how freedom feels like. And results are the fallen glitter onto my face, arms, clothes, even between my toes - the pattern muttering a poem fit for Blake's reading pleasure. But the thunderclouds continue to form, clustered near the horizon, creeping ever closer, inexorably, to unleash the storm.
I would like to be able to post the heady scent of roses that marshal the sidewalks of my freedom. The smell of sweet roses blooming out of the screen, in through your nostrils, and up into your brain, where, on its peregrinations round your neutral pathways.. it might just be translated into a small sense of my unadulterated joy for being alive. Or at least an inkling of how much I love the smell of roses.
At the risk of essentializing an entire condition, these pills are a jolting contrast with freedom. But there is a different sense of freedom with respect to drug interaction, binding together to keep from fading. Conversation seems to average out several decibels higher, there is a kind of inclusiveness that i used to be accustomed to - but now find invasive. Warped as it may be, but my idiosyncrasies has fed off this different sense of freedom.
Throwing glitter into the wide open sky, that's how freedom feels like. And results are the fallen glitter onto my face, arms, clothes, even between my toes - the pattern muttering a poem fit for Blake's reading pleasure. But the thunderclouds continue to form, clustered near the horizon, creeping ever closer, inexorably, to unleash the storm.
I would like to be able to post the heady scent of roses that marshal the sidewalks of my freedom. The smell of sweet roses blooming out of the screen, in through your nostrils, and up into your brain, where, on its peregrinations round your neutral pathways.. it might just be translated into a small sense of my unadulterated joy for being alive. Or at least an inkling of how much I love the smell of roses.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Clanking and clicking
I'd like to pen an incisive comment on certainty, but that the moment that would be like painting plaque into the inner walls of coronary arteries. Something I know too well, to be quite uncomfortable.
Any casual scrunity of my artistic notions will reveal a distinctly lukewarm ability, and a complete dearth of originality. Perhaps even the occasional stroke of genius.
While it's commonplace to hold a job one legitimately hates, I reassure myself that the sanctity of my creative loves - writing, reading, music and art - are preserved in all their untainted, uncommercialized, woefully amateurish glory. Or something to that effect.
Everything was settled, and I would slide kicking and screaming into the role society has carved out for me, the very embodiment of TGIF and Monday-blues citizen.
But, storms are a'raging, death's not so far away as I thought, and a slow asphyxiating panic is starting to creep up on me, coming sqaurely down on that question: what do I really want to do?
What I've really, really wanted to do for a while is sit in a dark room tapping on an old typewriter, the clanking and clicking immortalizing experience and footprints in text. Erratically glancing out an open window into a sea of tulips, amazed at the wonderment of life's mysteries. Like why coins have to weigh as much as they do. surely coins are merely a representation of value, and therefore don't actually have to be that hefty when collected in the wallet. Surely the thinnest disc of metal would suffice. And that the spare metal remaining could be used to make a wheelchair for the physically-challenged, and it would improve someone's quality of life. Ain't this a win-win.
But we can't have all we want. That would be having my cake and eating it too. Instead I constantly dream of that delicious mouthful of cake sliding gloriously down my throat.
Now that's romanticising romance.
Any casual scrunity of my artistic notions will reveal a distinctly lukewarm ability, and a complete dearth of originality. Perhaps even the occasional stroke of genius.
While it's commonplace to hold a job one legitimately hates, I reassure myself that the sanctity of my creative loves - writing, reading, music and art - are preserved in all their untainted, uncommercialized, woefully amateurish glory. Or something to that effect.
Everything was settled, and I would slide kicking and screaming into the role society has carved out for me, the very embodiment of TGIF and Monday-blues citizen.
But, storms are a'raging, death's not so far away as I thought, and a slow asphyxiating panic is starting to creep up on me, coming sqaurely down on that question: what do I really want to do?
What I've really, really wanted to do for a while is sit in a dark room tapping on an old typewriter, the clanking and clicking immortalizing experience and footprints in text. Erratically glancing out an open window into a sea of tulips, amazed at the wonderment of life's mysteries. Like why coins have to weigh as much as they do. surely coins are merely a representation of value, and therefore don't actually have to be that hefty when collected in the wallet. Surely the thinnest disc of metal would suffice. And that the spare metal remaining could be used to make a wheelchair for the physically-challenged, and it would improve someone's quality of life. Ain't this a win-win.
But we can't have all we want. That would be having my cake and eating it too. Instead I constantly dream of that delicious mouthful of cake sliding gloriously down my throat.
Now that's romanticising romance.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
revitalized heartstrings
today hasn't been like most days. i have stopped wandering in a stupor from one emotion to another, across the living room with bright lights, up 3 flights of stairs, into a room littered with debris of my of chaotic existence. i stopped chasing mirthless memories as of last night.
this afternoon my eyes were open but the heart overwhelmed my vision - it was like dreaming without sleeping. i spent the afternoon luxuriating in that comfort of being happy, effortlessly.
i sauntered contentedly into the lobby, and engage in a momentary delight of simplicity in the elevator. my heart speeds up for a moment as i beeped back into the office weighing the attributes of hope. i sat down at my desk, put my earphones on, played a sappy albeit happy song – music blasting sufficiently to create a steady vibration in my heart.
this afternoon my eyes were open but the heart overwhelmed my vision - it was like dreaming without sleeping. i spent the afternoon luxuriating in that comfort of being happy, effortlessly.
i sauntered contentedly into the lobby, and engage in a momentary delight of simplicity in the elevator. my heart speeds up for a moment as i beeped back into the office weighing the attributes of hope. i sat down at my desk, put my earphones on, played a sappy albeit happy song – music blasting sufficiently to create a steady vibration in my heart.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
blotting out the moon
there is the idea that surges can be managed, if only in small bursts and spurts. let go of the reins and it could be tragic and debilitating, though not fatal - mind my dramatics.
sorrow is inevitable like the waves when they hit the shores, the sound of potential, of passion, of voices cracking glides back into the ocean.
in the syntax of distance, in some minor way, a cold white heart forms, thin cracks in the ice. with distinct arrangement, warmth creeps up on me with a promise wrapped in white.
how the silver lining distracts, how the silver lining can be ignored.
sorrow is inevitable like the waves when they hit the shores, the sound of potential, of passion, of voices cracking glides back into the ocean.
in the syntax of distance, in some minor way, a cold white heart forms, thin cracks in the ice. with distinct arrangement, warmth creeps up on me with a promise wrapped in white.
how the silver lining distracts, how the silver lining can be ignored.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
three people
my sister's boyfriend, VY asked me the other day - "hey if you have to pick 3 people you want to meet if you could meet anyone you wanted who would they be? tough question right?"
i replied in a milisecond "easy. kurt kobain, axel rose and wes borland"
VY: it's for a job interview.
shit. LOL.
then it'd be "lincoln, hitler and napoleon"
i replied in a milisecond "easy. kurt kobain, axel rose and wes borland"
VY: it's for a job interview.
shit. LOL.
then it'd be "lincoln, hitler and napoleon"
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
25 random facts about me - July 5 2010
This was the one in 2010 -
Updated in italics.
Been spending a lot more time with my parents lately and we’d talk about our favourite topic, their firstborn – me. Figured now is a good time as any to finish this list.
The 25 things about me meme.
1. I struggle with making simple conversation.
2. I am a history buff, through and through. I especially like reading books on warfare, dictatorship and social turmoil. I also love memoirs, from past and current times.
3. Every once in a while I hate that I'm working at a desk and not out there removing children from the sex trade or slavery. But I get over it quickly *blush
4. I hate it when my food touches.
5. I have believed in Jesus for some time, unwaveringly so. It is not until this year, angry sad and confused that I question his existence.
6. I am not an animal lover. But animal cruelty bothers me.
7. Which brings me to the sweetest thing anyone has done for me. Give up something he loves without me having to ask – shark fins soup.
8. The first album I bought on my own was of The Scorpions
9. When I was 15 my dad passed me the Lord of the Rings. When I liked it he tried to get me to read Eddings and other writers he liked. Sadly for him till this day the only two fantasy stories I like are LOTR and Harry Potter. (CS Lewis though one of my favourite writers I never finished the Chronicles of Narnia)
10. My dad started telling me stories about Sinbad when I was 3. It stuck with me to this day - I am drawn to films about adventure, living on the beach or on a ship and hunting treasure.
11. I miss the ocean, constantly. I have to see it once or twice a year.
12. Funny trumps everything else. If it’s funny I don’t care so much if it’s offensive.
13. I wonder what will happen if people gave the same amount of attention they do to iphones or blackberrys, to stopping sex slavery in Cambodia?
14. From the moment I started reading at 3 I was addicted. In primary school, it escalated to a stage where reading took up so much of my time I didn’t bother with schoolwork. My mother noticed this and confiscated all my books. I cried for a day. This happened several times (the confiscating and the crying) until my book collection grew so large she gave up moving them somewhere where I can’t find them.
15. I grew up listening to rock and punk. Till this day rock is still my preferred style of music but punk has shaped my ideals and behavior.
16. I like that there are men who find the brain the sexiest part of a woman's body. But I am never attracted to these men.
17. I suffered a knee injury when I was 16. Having won my first trophy for 100m when I was 9 or 10 I was quite cut up about it for a while.
18. 2011 - Came to the realization that I am extremely limber and that it is freaky I can put my ankles behind my neck. I thought everyone could do it. So now.. I am freakishly flexible :/
19. The 60s; specifically the Summer of love 67 intrigues me. But I were to be time catapulted into to that time I’m sure the obscene liberation would overwhelm me.
20. For several years during my teens my mother called me a hippie because I listened to loud music and disliked wearing “girl clothes”. I’m not sure she knows what a hippie really is.
21. I can go months and months without shopping. When I do, I can’t do it for more than an hour before my eyes roll back in my head with boredom.
Updated: I shop frequently at the usuals - ASOS, Topshop, Selfridge and girls, check out www.stylesofia.com
22. I have a long standing fascination with the Holocaust and totalitarianism.
23. I use to paint very regularly. One of my dreams is to restore paintings from the Renaissance.
24. The thought of posting this somewhere public makes me a little uneasy. It’s like putting my closet on display.
25. 2010 has been arguably the best and worst year of my life. It is through the design of this statement that I know I am out of the dark ages.
Updated in italics.
Been spending a lot more time with my parents lately and we’d talk about our favourite topic, their firstborn – me. Figured now is a good time as any to finish this list.
The 25 things about me meme.
1. I struggle with making simple conversation.
2. I am a history buff, through and through. I especially like reading books on warfare, dictatorship and social turmoil. I also love memoirs, from past and current times.
3. Every once in a while I hate that I'm working at a desk and not out there removing children from the sex trade or slavery. But I get over it quickly *blush
4. I hate it when my food touches.
5. I have believed in Jesus for some time, unwaveringly so. It is not until this year, angry sad and confused that I question his existence.
6. I am not an animal lover. But animal cruelty bothers me.
7. Which brings me to the sweetest thing anyone has done for me. Give up something he loves without me having to ask – shark fins soup.
8. The first album I bought on my own was of The Scorpions
9. When I was 15 my dad passed me the Lord of the Rings. When I liked it he tried to get me to read Eddings and other writers he liked. Sadly for him till this day the only two fantasy stories I like are LOTR and Harry Potter. (CS Lewis though one of my favourite writers I never finished the Chronicles of Narnia)
10. My dad started telling me stories about Sinbad when I was 3. It stuck with me to this day - I am drawn to films about adventure, living on the beach or on a ship and hunting treasure.
11. I miss the ocean, constantly. I have to see it once or twice a year.
12. Funny trumps everything else. If it’s funny I don’t care so much if it’s offensive.
13. I wonder what will happen if people gave the same amount of attention they do to iphones or blackberrys, to stopping sex slavery in Cambodia?
14. From the moment I started reading at 3 I was addicted. In primary school, it escalated to a stage where reading took up so much of my time I didn’t bother with schoolwork. My mother noticed this and confiscated all my books. I cried for a day. This happened several times (the confiscating and the crying) until my book collection grew so large she gave up moving them somewhere where I can’t find them.
15. I grew up listening to rock and punk. Till this day rock is still my preferred style of music but punk has shaped my ideals and behavior.
16. I like that there are men who find the brain the sexiest part of a woman's body. But I am never attracted to these men.
17. I suffered a knee injury when I was 16. Having won my first trophy for 100m when I was 9 or 10 I was quite cut up about it for a while.
18. 2011 - Came to the realization that I am extremely limber and that it is freaky I can put my ankles behind my neck. I thought everyone could do it. So now.. I am freakishly flexible :/
19. The 60s; specifically the Summer of love 67 intrigues me. But I were to be time catapulted into to that time I’m sure the obscene liberation would overwhelm me.
20. For several years during my teens my mother called me a hippie because I listened to loud music and disliked wearing “girl clothes”. I’m not sure she knows what a hippie really is.
21. I can go months and months without shopping. When I do, I can’t do it for more than an hour before my eyes roll back in my head with boredom.
Updated: I shop frequently at the usuals - ASOS, Topshop, Selfridge and girls, check out www.stylesofia.com
22. I have a long standing fascination with the Holocaust and totalitarianism.
23. I use to paint very regularly. One of my dreams is to restore paintings from the Renaissance.
24. The thought of posting this somewhere public makes me a little uneasy. It’s like putting my closet on display.
25. 2010 has been arguably the best and worst year of my life. It is through the design of this statement that I know I am out of the dark ages.
Monday, January 9, 2012
converted conviction
i didn’t believe that god caused this to happen. because i didn’t believe in prayer, didn’t believe that he would spare me. of late, never once did it occur to me blame him, to ask for any favors. because i no longer believe in god. yet in deseperate times, unconciously i question him in fury, my eyes flickering upwards. i held my breath as if the question was a mockery. t hen i closed my eyes until it was all darkness.
i've searched for answers for years – a way of understanding the predicament of standing on the wrong side of the statistic. dad says atheism is a trend and it could be dangerous, and because i have always been subversive.. hence the change of heart. dad’s warning gave my overactive mind a place to struggle, a single point of concentration, a comtemplation at a time. do i elucidate my logic, or to nod in fillialy.
i leave dad, go back upstairs to my room, my mind aswirl.
strangely, as my mind swirls - it takes me back to seoul. i miss my 한국의 friends. wishing you'd all come back to malaysia and live here again. OR, the other way around! <3
i've searched for answers for years – a way of understanding the predicament of standing on the wrong side of the statistic. dad says atheism is a trend and it could be dangerous, and because i have always been subversive.. hence the change of heart. dad’s warning gave my overactive mind a place to struggle, a single point of concentration, a comtemplation at a time. do i elucidate my logic, or to nod in fillialy.
i leave dad, go back upstairs to my room, my mind aswirl.
strangely, as my mind swirls - it takes me back to seoul. i miss my 한국의 friends. wishing you'd all come back to malaysia and live here again. OR, the other way around! <3
Thursday, January 5, 2012
percipient choice of billy corgan's discourse
zero
emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me.
intoxicated with the madness, i'm in love with my sadness
i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
i never let on that i was down
you blame yourself, for what you can't ignore
tonight, tonight
time is never time at all
ycan never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
and our lives are forever changed
we will never be the same
the more you change the less you feel
aand you know you're never sure
but you're sure you could be right
in the resolute urgency of now
we'll crucify the insincere tonight
believe in me as i believe in you, tonight
emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness
and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me.
intoxicated with the madness, i'm in love with my sadness
i never let on, that i was on a sinking ship
i never let on that i was down
you blame yourself, for what you can't ignore
tonight, tonighttime is never time at all
ycan never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth
and our lives are forever changed
we will never be the same
the more you change the less you feel
aand you know you're never sure
but you're sure you could be right
in the resolute urgency of now
we'll crucify the insincere tonight
believe in me as i believe in you, tonight
pyrotechnic display
pictures here doesn't do justice to the actual pageantry of grandeur that night.
twas a performance equivalent to an illustrious film, albeit brief.
twas a performance equivalent to an illustrious film, albeit brief.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
intrepidity
i have been perusing a lot in translation recently. in a valiant attempt to resurrect my sanity. i have taken to manipuate agony and with that i am providentially plagued with happiness and tranquility. my amelioration may strike some as facile as the discord infects the past present and the future.
time will tell.
i can't say this enough - i'm so ever thankful for those who had seen me at my worst, in that stupor, in that corner; know every sordid detail of my downfall and cried as they witnessed first hand my descent into destruction.
time will tell.
i can't say this enough - i'm so ever thankful for those who had seen me at my worst, in that stupor, in that corner; know every sordid detail of my downfall and cried as they witnessed first hand my descent into destruction.
momentous
my giving, gracious and generous friends.
Ray and Kim <3
Hobbes! (I am Calvin btw teehee)
Kimmy, love you!
Calvin and Hobbes (inside joke, but i must say - them and us are all four kindred spirits)
Jeremy
Jeremy and Henry - Never a dull moment for either of them when they are together
Kim and David
Bernard, Henry and Jeremy
Woei Yi and I - hijacked his bed when I visited Melb and he had to sleep.. elsewhere :P
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