Blanked

Temptation to write, clean cut to the core. Which is clearly what this thing is about. But on what, never figured. Things happen, but putting every thing into words is a task I think I want to do with enthusiast. And the only thing I'd say now is that there's a jolt of pain in the back of my head. No, not pain, feels like the skin's been plastered, tampered with million of tiny glasses, residing as if my skin's a cosy little cottage.

By doing this too I realise that to write, music influence me. Literally. Whatever I listen to sets the mood. Eerie tracks for goosebump paragraphs, although really, scary isn't me. Never really will it be. And it's bad enough that depressant tracks pulls me in deeper. Like more words pop out everytime a track like such is played. If it's drug, than barbiturates would have set me in the mood. Please let me make it clear, I am never attracted to pills, liquid, anything of similar sort. Go on snort infront of me, get high, cut loose, I would still sit there in my corner heavily sedated in my own self-enhanced world. Seriously, drugs just aren't seductive to me.

It's as if I feed on dead tracks to keep me pumping, and I dont mean goth. I just mean pumping in every way. Good. Bad, every feeling possible. Love perhaps. Definitely do have different songs for that kind of feeling. Oh well. I guess different songs do produce different vibes.

seven sins

Slept late. Just for the sake of passing daylight. For the ability to get squeezed in the comfort of cushions. Getting immersed in sloth, toiled in lust, indulging greed. And who would thought a combination of those deadly sins would ever be such a treat. It always has been. Only humanity chose hypocrisy, to make them sound holy. Admitting that we are at times just one of those gluttonous beast is horrific enough. But just for the day, letting oneself to be consumed by such event is good. And who would have thought, a lifeless soul could do great deeds. They never gave the chance. Because someone from down below can never be given a high gratitude. So why bother making it? Because having pride feels good, and pride don't lose. And the only worse feeling to ever occur through the journey is envy, one that makes a restless night, one that holds evil in it's palm. One that creates a wrath master.

But just for the day, just for the day, admitting that we somehow like those guilty pleasures feels good.
makes us aware that we are just human. Mere humans.

Hand in Hand

These are a few of my favourite video that shows union of love and binding powers in lending helps through voices and talents. These are a few videos that shows well-known people cooperating to spread good messages. This is love at work.

USA for AFRICA

An attempt in showing how Malaysian are one

Made by Malaysian Artists for Unity. I think the organization itself tells of how Malaysian should never discriminate races, languages and skin colour.

Shou Qian Shou or hand in hand when translated were sang by Taiwanese artists during the SARS breakout.

we are the world
this time this song is dedicated specially for Haiti.

I wish to be part of this kind of work some day.

When I was little

When I was little I used to own a teddy, and he was green. Knowing that I grow up into liking purple, I am no longer in talking terms with teddy. I think he's been laid in the toy dumpster along with fluffy kitty (one that I remembered colouring the inside of it's ears with red markers) my baby doll that literally looks like a toddler but no blinking eyes (blinking eyes are pure evil, they're created to give little ones... and adults nightmares) and together with the rest of my brother's semi-detached, multi-sized, PVC lorries.

When I was little I believe unicorns exists, fairies are real and they do make wonders, and ponies have colourful bodies and graceful trots. As my body and mind took it's toll of reaching teenage-hood, I found out they were all bogus. But as sly as it sounds, I still like the imaginary fairies and ponies.

When I was little I thought the clouds were cotton candy, and that Hercules and Zeus lived there and dreamt I'd build a tiny cottage up on one of those fluffy clouds. And now that I attended science class, I learn that clouds are just cumulation of water droplets. It's my first disappointment in life before the many that came after it.

When I was little I always drink out of a bicker and sleep with my stinky bolster. I drink normal now, on a side-handled mug, or glass, or any kind of inventions meant for adults. However, my stinky bolster goes to sleep with me almost every night, and as horrid as it may sound, im not ashamed of it? gosh, i sound super creepy now.

When I was little, I sulk a lot, and get grumpy when things don't go my way. Now that I'm grown up I still like things to go my way, but I've learned to comprehend with people and surrounding, and to manipulate every sadistic event to be good. I've actually learned to see the very little silver lining in every stormy weather.

When I was little I wanted to be like Spice Girls. I was head over heals for Hanson and The Moffats, which is just another portrayal of my preferences towards long-haired guys. Now that Im 20, I have an addiction for heavy metal, I even play in an all girls band by the name of Shewolves, and if you've seen me around, you'd probably notice that my preferences hasn't completely change at all, a little wilder maybe.

When I was little I wished I was 20 fast so that I could wear fancy clothes, drive, maybe get involve in some romance and do whatever I want without anyone older having the authority to say no and struggle so hard every time they carry me like a little cat while I was on my tantrums. Now that I am all the things I wished when I was little, I somehow wish I could be little again because having no one to tell you what to do sometimes makes you lost, and having so many options are petty and that the severe damage of making a mistake is on me and my own shoulder. Being an adult is good, but being little is a bliss.

And as far as I could reflect, I'd still say being little and rebellious without nobody taking it as a serious offense is really good, but hey, we could only grow, and sugar-coats deteriorate. Well anyway, here's something from my childhood memory:



don't tell me they don't bring back your childhood memories too ;P

nonsensical beau

There are no rules in love. There's no exact reason in being so too. The only thing I'm only capable of explaining is,

that I'm not and can't be opaque to you
that you're my kryptonite
that when times feels like it's absurd, there's always sense in you.
And when sense lost it's way, there's always rays in you eyes,
that projects the chained words in you heart chambers.
That when silence approach, miracles preach,
in the most ridiculous way, yet a homicide for loath.
that when there are no good reasons at all,
there's always space for the beast to transform to beauty.

nonsensical
is norm.