In My Notebook.
.
I think it's time for things to get wordy around here again, don't you?
.
A coupla weeks ago I was so sick, I could barely get out of bed - yet alone stay awake for more than three hours at a time.
.
But then I finally braved the daylight despite my (warning: it's going to get explicit) green snot and green phlegm and headache and complaints.
.
What sparked the writing, you may ask. It's just that, my mom decided to confiscate my laptop - supposedly to make me go to bed at night. Obviously, it didn't work. All I did was resort to pencil and paper.
.
I'll admit, things are rather disjointed. I wouldn't give myself an A+ on the flow of things. But they're all journal-like first drafts and in my opinion, that should be enough to satisfy you.
.
Edited: Dates have been added because the Mashitlay insisted that they wouldn't mean much if I didn't.
.
17 June 2009
.
In the dead of night is when I find my stubborn mind finally gives up and allows me to spill all the secrets of the day. Of course, as a result of this, bountiful ulcers have made a home for themselves within the confinements of my inner cheeks and tongue, but I aspire to be the suffering artist. I've always admired those morbid fools who chop off their limbs just to feel alive.
.
17 June 2009
.
The other day I found myself talking to my mother in the same manner I blog in.
.
"Why are you complicating something simple?" she asked.
.
And then I found myself with this pounding question:
.
Is my (self proclaimed) literary flair truly appreciated or is it only wishful thinking?
.
17 June 2009
.
Ever realize that the stuff they play on radio really sucks? Says who, you ask. Says I, that is. The lyrics are simplistic, the riffs cease to exist, and melodic brilliance comes sparingly.
.
And yet, they gain ever-increasing popularity.
.
The reason behind this is no secret, really:
The general emotions portrayed can be thawed out, broken down, varnished, and completely mutilated to fix into context. They can relate to simply anyone and mean simply anything. Songs of love become verses of indifference. Sad stories lead to inevitable happy endings.
.
And truth be told, every song, regardless of how mediocre, has a story to tell.
.
And all those songs, remind me of you.
.
6 June 2009
.
4.30am
marks the beginning of the most comforting hour that can possibly emerge from a night of twisted bed sheets, tangled between my limbs; and infuriating arguments in my head.
.
Whoever said that the night is darkest before dawn (edit: google tells me it's apparently a guy named Thomas Fuller) got it right for a while till technology kicked in. In the wee hours of the morning, with the computer's bright screen glaring into my pandafied eyes (dahlah sepet), I seek solace from my fellow nocturnal insomniacs, each with their own stories to tell, each with their own problems.
.
Of course, our misfortunes aren't up for comparison - it isn't a competition. Sometimes it's the mini revelations or constant reminders that we are not alone at the tip of Lady Luck's feet is comforting enough.
.
17 June 2009
.
"Don't you mind if he's quiet?" Ching asked me the other day in a more malaysian manner.
.
And the thing is, I used to. The lack of quick-talking, smart-mouthing conversation frustrated me. My insatiable lust for some wittier banter left me with little hope of making it work out.
.
And then I heard you speak.
.
It was then that I realised the value of men of few words.
.
Most of the time, your lack of speech made me question your interest in me. I never accepted "I don't know what to say" as an excuse because you were a writer by nature - you do it for a living. It was in supposedly in your veins.
.
But then I found out that when you finally speak, you speak with so much passion and rage, topped with a dollop of helplessness and sprinkled with humility. When I heard you speak, it felt like the relief after seeing the carnage cleaned up and the bodies properly laid to rest.
.
Oh, and your voice! I can see why they swoon.
.
Most importantly, though - hearing you pour your heart out into words made me realize truly how much I meant to you.
.
So, thank you.
.
17 June 2009
.
I like you.
I love you.
I hate you.
I love you hate you.
I love hate you.
I need you.
.
I'll have get back to you on this.
.
20 June 2009
.
Musings should always start with the ending. In my opinion, that is.
.
They need no introductions, because really, what I write is for me. If I wanted to be showered in public approval, I would write the same way I do for the newspaper – with pure dishonesty and superficiality. I’m not trying to diminish my credibility as a journalist here – when I work I try to be nothing but professional, but when it comes to by blog, I try to write as blatantly as I feel necessary. Jaydeefied readers from before might’ve notice – I’ve been paying more attention to the things I say these days.
.
So when you don’t understand what I’m saying – don’t jump to the conclusion that I am bloody useless at writing. No. It’s simply because it isn’t for you to understand.
.
24 June 2009
.
You’ll never know cause I’ll never admit it, but tonight I smelled your shirt to sleep.
.
The scent, of course, isn’t a bed of roses. Your generous splashes of cologne are obviously the most pungent, but there still is that distinctive hint of sweat lingering just above the threads, gliding into the air.
.
Yet, despite its lack of sugary sweetness, I indulge in the high it gives. Each whiff throws me off board to be fully submerged in an ocean of pure bliss, and leaves me sinking deeper and deeper into my sheets and pillows.
.
‘Masculine Malay Man’, I think to myself. The alliteration alone should be enough to convince you I’m hooked.
.
After about half an hour, for as long as I could possibly stay awake, I take comfort in a new sense of familiarity in your newfound attraction and dream of neverland.
.
23 June 2009
.
It bugs me when I fail to understand my own emotions. Sure, epiphanies are awesome, but when the revelations leave me with answers I should’ve noticed eons ago, I can’t help but feel, well, stupid.
.
When you told me how you felt, I asked you what made you think I feel the same way.
.
"Berpusing-pusing" was how you described my response - thinking that I found pleasure in intentionally complicating things. But truth be told, I really didn't think I did.
.
Till I found out, yes, you really can hurt me.
.
So does that mean I do?
.
actually happened on 14 March 2009
written on 28 June 2009
.
When I met you I told you you sounded like Taking Back Sunday.
.
With a cross between an 'oh' and an 'awww', you managed to come up with, "Awh, I love that band."
.
I wish, like the rest of the world seems to constantly do, I could say that the rest is history.
.
But really, is it?
.
And once again, I feel it absolutely necessary to remind you that you're a 'maybe'. Not a 'yes', not a 'no'.
.
26 June 2009
.
I'm trying very hard not to smile at myself today. A grin isn't exactly appropriate attire during four consecutive periods of maths.
.
I'm staring constantly at the teacher, but my mind isn't registering a thing she says. Her es look like ls and her ls look like es and numbers will always be a distant illusion to me.
.
I've resorted to covering my mouth with my ridiculously tiny hands and holding my breath in hopes of successfully surpressing my emotions. My efforts, of course, are in vain. Michael Jackson died today. I don't mourn my childhood idol. It actually hasn't quite sunken in yet and I think the world should've seen it coming.
.
Elvis Presley, Anna Nicole Smith, Whacko Jacko - it's a repeating trend.
.
I wonder if anyone ever really outgrows the fairytale fantasies. It was merely one phone call and yet hours later, I'm still feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Please excuse my cliches - I cannot help it. It's like that feeling you get when you watch chick flicks and the girl is finally getting the guy of her dreams. Nothing of the sort is going on, and yet I can't help but feel the same way.
.
I wonder where this is going. I wonder if it's going anywhere at all.
All I know is, today,
I am happy.
.
29 June 2009
.
I wrote you a song.
.
It's my very first - I'll have you know. It's not quite done yet - some verses are still blank. It amazes me how I've finally met someone that can leave me lost for words. A compliment for you - not exactly an award for myself.
.
I think I'll call it Faggy Kisses. Yeah. Faggy Kisses and Mushroom Tattoos. Maybe even Maybe. Those lines never appear though. They're just things that remind me of you.
.
I doubt you'll ever hear it, though. Because this is one of those many public secrets I keep hidden from you.
.
29 June 2009
.
"You know what you want,
but how long can you wait?"
.
I hate it when cheesey mainstream songs expect answers from me. I hate it even more when they ask the right questions.
.
So answer the question, love.
It's your turn.
.
2 July 2009
.
"Fate is an elegant, cold-hearted whore.
She loves salting my wounds, yes, she enjoys nothing more."
.
May speaks of my "complicated life" as if it's were a compliment.
"It's like a soap opera," she says. "Better than having a boring life."
.
I like to remind myself that most soaps have a happy ending.
.
Question is, who's writing this script and in the end, which hero saves the day?
.
I think it's time for things to get wordy around here again, don't you?
.
A coupla weeks ago I was so sick, I could barely get out of bed - yet alone stay awake for more than three hours at a time.
.
But then I finally braved the daylight despite my (warning: it's going to get explicit) green snot and green phlegm and headache and complaints.
.
What sparked the writing, you may ask. It's just that, my mom decided to confiscate my laptop - supposedly to make me go to bed at night. Obviously, it didn't work. All I did was resort to pencil and paper.
.
I'll admit, things are rather disjointed. I wouldn't give myself an A+ on the flow of things. But they're all journal-like first drafts and in my opinion, that should be enough to satisfy you.
.
Edited: Dates have been added because the Mashitlay insisted that they wouldn't mean much if I didn't.
.
--------------------------------------------------
One17 June 2009
.
In the dead of night is when I find my stubborn mind finally gives up and allows me to spill all the secrets of the day. Of course, as a result of this, bountiful ulcers have made a home for themselves within the confinements of my inner cheeks and tongue, but I aspire to be the suffering artist. I've always admired those morbid fools who chop off their limbs just to feel alive.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Two17 June 2009
.
The other day I found myself talking to my mother in the same manner I blog in.
.
"Why are you complicating something simple?" she asked.
.
And then I found myself with this pounding question:
.
Is my (self proclaimed) literary flair truly appreciated or is it only wishful thinking?
.
--------------------------------------------------
Three17 June 2009
.
Ever realize that the stuff they play on radio really sucks? Says who, you ask. Says I, that is. The lyrics are simplistic, the riffs cease to exist, and melodic brilliance comes sparingly.
.
And yet, they gain ever-increasing popularity.
.
The reason behind this is no secret, really:
The general emotions portrayed can be thawed out, broken down, varnished, and completely mutilated to fix into context. They can relate to simply anyone and mean simply anything. Songs of love become verses of indifference. Sad stories lead to inevitable happy endings.
.
And truth be told, every song, regardless of how mediocre, has a story to tell.
.
And all those songs, remind me of you.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Four6 June 2009
.
4.30am
marks the beginning of the most comforting hour that can possibly emerge from a night of twisted bed sheets, tangled between my limbs; and infuriating arguments in my head.
.
Whoever said that the night is darkest before dawn (edit: google tells me it's apparently a guy named Thomas Fuller) got it right for a while till technology kicked in. In the wee hours of the morning, with the computer's bright screen glaring into my pandafied eyes (dahlah sepet), I seek solace from my fellow nocturnal insomniacs, each with their own stories to tell, each with their own problems.
.
Of course, our misfortunes aren't up for comparison - it isn't a competition. Sometimes it's the mini revelations or constant reminders that we are not alone at the tip of Lady Luck's feet is comforting enough.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Five17 June 2009
.
"Don't you mind if he's quiet?" Ching asked me the other day in a more malaysian manner.
.
And the thing is, I used to. The lack of quick-talking, smart-mouthing conversation frustrated me. My insatiable lust for some wittier banter left me with little hope of making it work out.
.
And then I heard you speak.
.
It was then that I realised the value of men of few words.
.
Most of the time, your lack of speech made me question your interest in me. I never accepted "I don't know what to say" as an excuse because you were a writer by nature - you do it for a living. It was in supposedly in your veins.
.
But then I found out that when you finally speak, you speak with so much passion and rage, topped with a dollop of helplessness and sprinkled with humility. When I heard you speak, it felt like the relief after seeing the carnage cleaned up and the bodies properly laid to rest.
.
Oh, and your voice! I can see why they swoon.
.
Most importantly, though - hearing you pour your heart out into words made me realize truly how much I meant to you.
.
So, thank you.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Six17 June 2009
.
.
I'll have get back to you on this.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Seven20 June 2009
.
Musings should always start with the ending. In my opinion, that is.
.
They need no introductions, because really, what I write is for me. If I wanted to be showered in public approval, I would write the same way I do for the newspaper – with pure dishonesty and superficiality. I’m not trying to diminish my credibility as a journalist here – when I work I try to be nothing but professional, but when it comes to by blog, I try to write as blatantly as I feel necessary. Jaydeefied readers from before might’ve notice – I’ve been paying more attention to the things I say these days.
.
So when you don’t understand what I’m saying – don’t jump to the conclusion that I am bloody useless at writing. No. It’s simply because it isn’t for you to understand.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Eight24 June 2009
.
You’ll never know cause I’ll never admit it, but tonight I smelled your shirt to sleep.
.
The scent, of course, isn’t a bed of roses. Your generous splashes of cologne are obviously the most pungent, but there still is that distinctive hint of sweat lingering just above the threads, gliding into the air.
.
Yet, despite its lack of sugary sweetness, I indulge in the high it gives. Each whiff throws me off board to be fully submerged in an ocean of pure bliss, and leaves me sinking deeper and deeper into my sheets and pillows.
.
‘Masculine Malay Man’, I think to myself. The alliteration alone should be enough to convince you I’m hooked.
.
After about half an hour, for as long as I could possibly stay awake, I take comfort in a new sense of familiarity in your newfound attraction and dream of neverland.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Nine23 June 2009
.
It bugs me when I fail to understand my own emotions. Sure, epiphanies are awesome, but when the revelations leave me with answers I should’ve noticed eons ago, I can’t help but feel, well, stupid.
.
When you told me how you felt, I asked you what made you think I feel the same way.
.
"Berpusing-pusing" was how you described my response - thinking that I found pleasure in intentionally complicating things. But truth be told, I really didn't think I did.
.
Till I found out, yes, you really can hurt me.
.
So does that mean I do?
.
--------------------------------------------------
Tenactually happened on 14 March 2009
written on 28 June 2009
.
When I met you I told you you sounded like Taking Back Sunday.
.
With a cross between an 'oh' and an 'awww', you managed to come up with, "Awh, I love that band."
.
I wish, like the rest of the world seems to constantly do, I could say that the rest is history.
.
But really, is it?
.
And once again, I feel it absolutely necessary to remind you that you're a 'maybe'. Not a 'yes', not a 'no'.
.
It's like Russian Roulette on a gypsy's crystal ball and the maroon drapes are hiding what's in the closet at the back. Phoenix claws, I'm guessing. But my assumptions are usually way off target.
.
So for now I'm comfortable with the word 'maybe'. 'Might' just sounds like strength and courage.
.
And maybe I'll change it, maybe I won't. Till then, you'll still just be a TBS song, left hanging on the phone wires with your own mistakes.
..
So for now I'm comfortable with the word 'maybe'. 'Might' just sounds like strength and courage.
.
And maybe I'll change it, maybe I won't. Till then, you'll still just be a TBS song, left hanging on the phone wires with your own mistakes.
--------------------------------------------------
Eleven26 June 2009
.
I'm trying very hard not to smile at myself today. A grin isn't exactly appropriate attire during four consecutive periods of maths.
.
I'm staring constantly at the teacher, but my mind isn't registering a thing she says. Her es look like ls and her ls look like es and numbers will always be a distant illusion to me.
.
I've resorted to covering my mouth with my ridiculously tiny hands and holding my breath in hopes of successfully surpressing my emotions. My efforts, of course, are in vain. Michael Jackson died today. I don't mourn my childhood idol. It actually hasn't quite sunken in yet and I think the world should've seen it coming.
.
Elvis Presley, Anna Nicole Smith, Whacko Jacko - it's a repeating trend.
.
I wonder if anyone ever really outgrows the fairytale fantasies. It was merely one phone call and yet hours later, I'm still feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Please excuse my cliches - I cannot help it. It's like that feeling you get when you watch chick flicks and the girl is finally getting the guy of her dreams. Nothing of the sort is going on, and yet I can't help but feel the same way.
.
I wonder where this is going. I wonder if it's going anywhere at all.
All I know is, today,
I am happy.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Twelve29 June 2009
.
I wrote you a song.
.
It's my very first - I'll have you know. It's not quite done yet - some verses are still blank. It amazes me how I've finally met someone that can leave me lost for words. A compliment for you - not exactly an award for myself.
.
I think I'll call it Faggy Kisses. Yeah. Faggy Kisses and Mushroom Tattoos. Maybe even Maybe. Those lines never appear though. They're just things that remind me of you.
.
I doubt you'll ever hear it, though. Because this is one of those many public secrets I keep hidden from you.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Thirteen29 June 2009
.
"You know what you want,
but how long can you wait?"
.
I hate it when cheesey mainstream songs expect answers from me. I hate it even more when they ask the right questions.
.
So answer the question, love.
It's your turn.
.
--------------------------------------------------
Fourteen2 July 2009
.
"Fate is an elegant, cold-hearted whore.
She loves salting my wounds, yes, she enjoys nothing more."
.
May speaks of my "complicated life" as if it's were a compliment.
"It's like a soap opera," she says. "Better than having a boring life."
.
I like to remind myself that most soaps have a happy ending.
.
Question is, who's writing this script and in the end, which hero saves the day?
.
--------------------------------------------------
.
.
.
.
10 had an epiphany:
looonnngg.. but nice =D
you read it?!?!?! o_O
oh course! lol
of*
Jay Dee I can comprehend with number 5 and 6. A really well written post!!!!! :D Get well soon dear...
i hate your notebook
chuen - awwww. i'm flattered <3
all or just the beginning? :P
tal - thank you. :) i actually didn't think it was that good to be honest. i just needed to fill the space. this blog's been neglected for too long.
c-fu - awwww. but i love your girlfriend <3
I TRIED COMMENTING HERE FROM THE OFFICE BUT I COULDNT ! :(
im not in the office now thats why i can now. :D
All....eh..some of them was on my bday :P
may - you stink :D
chuen - yeah. haha. that was the day i couldnt get out of bed :P
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