Amblin'

Nothing's more dangerous than a boy with charm ;)

Excuse the non-sequitur, but I always wanted to say that. (Hmmm, don't know whether it counts as one if I haven't said anything else yet)

Hari ini saya ingin bercakap tentang music musik muzik pop. Pop boleh didefinasikan sebagai err...

err...

err...

Oh fuck this, I've forgotten anything I've learn in high school. Evidently my future as a lawyer in Malaysia is also shot to pieces. If I do decide to become one. A tad redundant innit, since I'm almost done with my first year of law. 2 more months to finals and all I remember doing this year is going out a whole lot.

Anywhoo, I'm not here to talk about studying nor am I here to talk about my future. Today I'm going to talk about the past. (thanks to Genius who suddenly shuffled to Christina Aguilera's old songs) I suddenly remembered the days where I was in primary school, to the time where I was actually shorter than my parents (ha!) I suddenly remember vividly to the time where cliques reign true in school. The time where people thought that hanging out with the right people was the most important thing to do. How every kid in school desperately wanted to be popular, to hang with the 'right' people, to own the 'right' kind of stuff. And the only thing I can think of right now is BODOHNYER.

What did that ever do to me? It's not like I've maintained close friendships with all of them. In fact, it's the high school bonds that lasts forever right? (With the exception of a few of course).

You know what, I don't even know where I am going with this.

kthaxbai.

p/s: back to Kuantan this week again. Can't wait to see everyone. :)

An afternoon post?

Really?

How unlike me.

Actually,

Not really.

You write what you can, when you can.

Desperately seeking inspiration, curling comfortably in this downward spiral of self-hatred and doubt. Excuses or the lack of it, the repetitive syllables falling past your lips into the ears of the misguided fools. Poison, the viscous liquid shifting in the light as you play with the bottle, spinning it this way and that. Droplets of red falling from the broken skin, slowly increasing to a flow. The sharp glint of the knife that was in your hands, lying dormant at the edge of your vision. A masquerade, words that are lies besmirching your thoughts. Struggling internally, the torment in your mind escalating. Thunder, lighting, disasters becomes the calm that you yearn for. Waiting for the inner turmoil to be expressed by something else, something other than your mind. Watching everything go by; only waiting with regret. Infantile relationships dancing at the fringes at your thoughts. Simple. Pure. Sediments laying softly at the bottom. Fingers tighten around the glass, the tipping of the bottle. Falling of the bright, red flow into nothingness. It pools at your feet, growing. Soles pulsate and blister. Welcoming the pain, tipping the bottle right over. Droplets falling, leaving nothing behind. That metallic glint, infringing your thoughts of it's use. Pushing it in, dragging across unblemished skin. Breaking boundaries of biological reasoning. Losing judgement, disregarding reason. The need to feel. The need to yearn. Limits becoming faint lines in the mind, an abandoned road. Restraint holding no meaning. You watch life drain before you; breaths become gasps; vision become tunnels. All you have left is darkness. and calm.

Sometimes.

You write what you want, when you want.

GIRL CRUSH.

*girl crush*

Ha!

So what if he's old? So what if he has grey hair? SO FREAKING WHATTT.

That hair, the smoldering eyes, that half-smile and did I mention the HAIR?Sighhhh.

Hahhh, I know this is very unlike me but come on people! This is Patrick Dempsey we're talking about. But seriously tho, I think I have a thing for older guys.

Because when you date guys your own age, maturity becomes a huuuuuuge problem. It pains me greatly to say this, but 19 year old guys today still watch cartoons, which might be adorable but if it's the only thing that they watch, it is just sad. To find someone who reads Tolstoy and plays a musical instrument, who is also tall not to mention has the ability to grow facial hair but shaves so it looks like he has a constant 5 o'clock shadow is pretty hard to get. Ahem, hence the Patrick Dempsey crush. Not to mention he's pretty much playing God in that damn TV show just increased the crush factor by a tenfold.

Hmmm, come to think of it, being a doctor pretty much means you're playing God isn't it? You hold a person's life in your hands, what you decide will pretty much determine the fate of the person lying before you. Brrr, too much responsibility for a flake like me to bear. As much as I like to pretend to play God - the jokes and the I bless you thing, I will never ever want to have that on my conscience. The fact that the lapse in my judgment is what caused that man to die, that if I reacted a minute sooner, that if diagnosed the problem just a bit differently could be the reason that the morgue would have one less body in it, that's just not right.

Who am I to decide that I am to decide if someone else is to live or die?

Who am I?*screechestoahalt*

Let's not go there.

Where was I? Oh yesss, Mr. P. Dempsey. heeee.

All you highbrow people who watch Lost and House who just say that Grey's Anatomy is a superficial drama can suck it. (Don't get me wrong, I watch them too but I also watch GA). Because, the damn show has so many layers. Okay, so some of their situations may be unrealistic in real life. I mean what are the chances that there would be a bomb and someone going on a literal murdering rampage in the same hospital? But that's why it's called TV right?

What I love about GA is the fact they have so many metaphors. And the fact their script is so normal. That you wouldn't think that the storyline is so absurd because contextually, everything just fits. The pretty people who happen to be brilliant at what they do without putting in any effort at becoming brilliant, the public sex and the multiple sex partners, it just doesn't seem that absurd when you're watching it right? Or maybe it's just a guilty pleasure. I don't know.

Who really cares when you have this to stare at?

Change?

Let's hope that this is a beginning to something more. :)

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least,

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were the stars to burn,

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am,

Of the stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear and die,

I should learn to look at a empty sky

And feel it's total dark sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.

- W.H. Auden, The More Loving One.

Breakdown.

More delaying tactics again. Okay, I see you all rolling your eyes and saying "Jeez, doesn't she do anything but procrastinate?" cough.

HELLO. I..err...don't.

But it's little routines like this that comfort me. I like the fact that when I have to do something, I will delay it. I like the fact that I will put off what I say I would do now and do something completely useless for my productivity; i.e. blogging. It serves no higher purpose than being a place for me to procrastinate. Exhibit A : http://havenoenvyhavenofear.tumblr.com/post/3766152880/bs and this is just 3 days old. Can you imagine how many more posts like this that I can find if I decide to trawl this blog from it's very beginning? Before the Empire I'm sorry but I have no idea where that came from.

Okay I lied, I know. Star Wars. Oh the shame!

But I digress. And yes, I know I do this quite often as well. But I find it comforting that I do. I would like to take this as a sign of a broadly minded intellectual that has interests in so many things that little intricate connections like these are no obstacle to digressing.

And yes, I digress again. Forgive the mind, it tends to wander at times.

So where was I? Procrastination, right. For me, procrastinating is a habit that I take comfort in. It calms me, it makes me feel safe; that I have nothing to worry about. It's when I stop procrastinating is when I get worried. It's a sure sign that it is too late, that whatever that I'm supposed to be studying for (and I say studying here because I just cannot in my right mind think of another example) is going to be due/tested tomorrow and that I am not going to have enough time to finish it. So, procrastinating is like a comfort thing, it's my security blanket. For example, http://writeranjublocking.blogspot.com/2010/08/put-choice-of-non-pervy-title-here.html you see how happy I sound here? Completely and utterly relaxed?

It's the little things for me. Being happy-go-lucky means many, many impromptu plans which means that those the major changes that I make in life? Those life-altering changes like choosing my career and deciding to explore a major city on foot or travelling to another city for food; those were snap decisions. But they do usually end up being right. It's the second guesses that are wrong. The choices, the answers, anything that was an afterthought generally don't up with good consequences for me. So what I do is make a decision as quick as humanely possible and stick with it. This too helps reduce hypocrisy. But let's leave this for another time shall we? Hypocrisy is one of the things that I really cannot stand in people but to say this itself is hypocritical because we're all hypocrites on way or another. That's because that time is changing too quickly for us to stick with a decision that we've made. There's too many choices, too many options that it's impossible for us to be what we say we are. Okay, maybe I couldn't leave it; so let's call this a preview of a future post on hypocrisy?

So, we're down to the crux of this post. The breakdown part. What are the my signs of a breakdown? I'm not talking about the going all out postal - threating to kill myself or slapping a lecturer, but again, it's the little things. I know that I may complain about being in a rut all the time, but that's the comfort isn't it? Knowing that everything is going to be the same. So anyway, signs. Skip my shows for a day? Actually buckling down and doing my work? Blow-drying my hair? Answer: All of the above. But the sign that things are at it's worst? I clean. Which I Googled and found out that this actually could be a sign of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Which I never denied that I have albeit it's a very mild case lah. Because this OCD thing only extends to the stuff in my laptop. Every song properly ordered by artist, album, track number and title. I did have my old stuff down to year and genre but I couldn't bring myself to do everything again after the computer crashed. Or this cleaning thing could be an anxiety disorder. Which also could be true but OCD is as symptom of an anxiety attack and so it's could be either or neither. Because another reason why I found on Google is because I'm decluttering. I'm basically clearing my problems away and letting good karma in. This hypothesis is slightly more comforting than having an anxiety disorder but seriously? Throwing out the bad and in with the good? The skeptic in me is snorting in disbelief right now. So if I keep throwing stuff out and filling it in with new stuff it will make me feel better? I know this is not what it really means but it is MY interpretation and I'm sticking to it! Forget happy, the only thing that decluttering is going to make me is broke.

Insofar which I am beginning to exhibit 3/4 of my symptoms. And the fact that I've skipped more 1 day's worth of shows is a sure sign that I should be worried right now. However, the cleaning thing hasn't manifested yet but I can feel it bubbling under the surface. I'm contemplating my unmade bed and the feather duster lying atop the bookshelf. The urge is there, the compulsion to pull the sheets straight, the need to rearrange the desk, it's all here. Suppressed, but here.

Is it time to worry yet?

p/s: I do believe that self-psychoanalysis is possible, thanks to Freud. If he could do it 200 or so years ago to other people, although slightly inaccurately; I'm sure we have evolved sufficiently enough to psychoanalyze ourselves. Most people choose to underrate him but I do believe that he deserves a mention.

pp/s: LLB is really hard. :(

ppp/s: In the spirit of free association I leave you with this.

Bottle;whiskey.