purl ; detritus

2007-10-09T09:35:00.001-04:00

http://princesspurly.blogspot.com/

2007-08-11T10:35:00.001-04:00

i loathe you so much you prick.

2007-08-05T23:02:00.001-04:00

For the love of my life

You saturate my universe-
with the smell of your skin
and on mine your lips
the taste of the promises and hopes and lies you utter into my hair,
laughter and passions we used to share -
the way you hold me and then tell me you don't believe in love.
You saturate my universe -
with the everything you are that i crave,
.and no longer crave,
with a constant unrequited craving for reconciliation, waiting.
with misunderstandings, dismissals, verbal abuse,
with disappointment.

I hate you, you motherfucken bastard.

love is completely useless. romantics use its temporary insanity and blindness to shield themselves from a realistic world. the real world is filled with hate and contempt. Pain, anger, loathing, grit in your teeth, the heat from the scratches you drag across your burning skin. It wakes you up from your embarrassing slumber, it threatens to crush your insides. the real world is filled with insensitive pricks who cannot and will not see pass their own atrocities and be convinced that you are a person with feelings and with your own individualistic limitations and ideas. but once you fall in love, your capacity to forgive expands. your world widens and flattens in a blurry two-dimensional manner. you let him treat you like shit for years, and allow his apologies and negligence become a norm, a fact that you just HAVE to live with. love makes you rely on someone who is never going to be there, someone who postpones your life to make room for his, who compromises your feelings and closure and comprehension of ridiculous situations that wouldn't even have come up if you hadn't let yourself become vulnerable.
love ends up hurting you even more. makes you bitter about anything else out there in the world. it fucks up your hopes and beliefs, your dreams and an imagined future smashed to bits over and over again- but love will let you repair it with two hours of stolen bliss. it doesn't occur to you that your bliss has always been stolen, begged for, achieved - never given to you, never ever for you to take for granted - it has never been yours. stolen because you have always been a taboo, u were never allowed to be in his life the way you long to be. and even when you thought u had worked your way inside, you just realize there are some things that he doesn't make worth fighting for anymore.
im so fucking sick and tired of your dismissals, your insensitive accusations, your lack of acknowledgment of what EXACTLY i need from you.
but i doubt you give a shit. you just need to sleep, you need to distance yourself from me, you need to move away, you need to do everything on your own terms, you need to not factor me in your life in any real way - you keep me on the outskirts, telling me of false possibilities, promises that you would treat me differently, better.
its been years.
i wish i had never given you the power to persistently break my heart and mend it again to walk over all over it the next day.
and you have no clue about what the pain does to me. it shrinks my version and mind, it dims the world, i completely lose my sense of self.
what am i going to do for the next 5 years? how can you have barged into my life 4 years ago repeatedly telling me you want to spend the rest of your life with me and still dangle me at such a distance.
i wish i never met you.

2007-08-01T21:49:00.000-04:00

sometimes i wish you didnt exist.
at least someone would want to help me get over this inexplicable craziness.

2007-07-22T22:38:00.000-04:00

"She's nervous about seeing Blue. She keeps holding on to some earlier memory of him in the belief that his essence remains. She had thought he simply needed the right loving hands to peel away the ugly veils and reveal his spirit, but she's no longer sure if she believes in the idea of some essential core, some aspect of self which remains relatively stable and true. If enough worms eat their way through an apple, they will get to its core: they will gnaw away its pithy centre and the whole structure will ultimately collapse, decompose, and become dirt. He might look the same, but then again, you can bite into an apple and find it full of maggots. You can kiss a princess and she turns into a frog. You can fall in love with an illusion that crumbles before you in some unexpected moment - through a simple gesture, a smell, or a misplaced word. You learn that earth is actually heaven, which means that your only options after death are purgatory or hell. A sweeping tour of all the major religions leave you disillusioned, and suddenly you cease to be a believer in anything at all" - Camilla Gibb, 2002.

yet sometimes i find that cynicism and pessimism are merely shields for sore, bruised spots. masks that camouflage the fears that threaten to destroy and desecrate one's passionate beliefs and hopes.
on the other hand, sometimes believing just gets too hard.
god lets you down. people let you down, they change, or refuse to. Or maybe you were just too blind and disillusioned to see that they were never who you thought they were. identities shift, as does dreams, hopes, understandings of the world, like liquid, filling up the molds you surround yourself with. sometimes it gets so confusing.
then shit just happens. or something unexpectedly pleasant comes along.
both of which calls for some sort of coping mechanism.
who is god anyway?
or the persons you are and love?

2007-05-26T11:04:00.000-04:00

embrace sappiness:)

2007-05-19T11:43:00.000-04:00

"love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself" - Desai, The Inheritance of Loss

2007-05-14T10:29:00.000-04:00

how many times is this going to happen again?
you wake me up, tell me to get out of bed to call you just to make sure i can hear your stories of the lack of time and weariness clearly, and then impatiently insist you have to go within the range of 2-15 minutes.

how many times is this going to happen again?
i rely on your useless, random msges, phone calls that come once or twice a day or less. or a mere response. don't make promises you cant keep. and you get angry that we talk but i dont tell you everything. fuck you. what do you think i am?

how many times is this going to happen again?
for your sake and complaints we urge you to take it easy and you say yes you will work on it. and then the next day i get screamed at for not understanding you needed the money.

how many times is this going to happen again?
i am just sick and tired of caring. i will never ever understand how you handle things when i just see so many other options. logical ones. not your offensive and dismissive comments about me being "too emotional". maybe i should get going.

you dont have to be intentionally mean to be an asshole/jerk. you just have to not care enough. but then again. who can blame you for not caring enough right?

it's just bloody old me.

2007-04-24T14:22:00.000-04:00

maybe i need pain.
maybe because pain is the one thing that reminds me that i am still alive.

i dont know why i want this love that isnt meant to be mine. ive never been one to resist the flow of things, but not having what i want drives me crazy. i want to peel my skin off my bones, lick them clean and show you, im alive.. because of the pain you give to me.

but i dont feel like i have lost my head. in fact, it is the very rationality that makes this pain an itch i cannot scratch, an growing tumor inside of me no radioactive process can remove.

maybe i am a masochist. i beg for you to hurt me.
every second i grow more aware of how much i hate myself for doing everything i do, the more i need you to hold me. but loathing does nothing with you. you turn your head, and walk away from the glare of my anger, oblivious to the fact that it is the very thing that stokes it, makes the flames rise to my eyes as a mess of disappointments and failures.

just like you want me to be something i am not,
you are not willing to be what i wish you could be.
i am in love with the potentiality of you.
and you are in love with the memory of me and not what i want to become in your eyes.

i question my dispoablitity in your life.
its strange how its not longer about assurance.. or self esteem. or men.
i just want you to be mine. and ironically it is its impossibility that spurs my insistence.
perhaps because i believe you are the love of my life?
or maybe i just dont beleive in love anymore.
i just hate being abandoned... by you.

and it is this pain that remains.
if only i can hire my own assasin.

2007-04-15T21:16:00.000-04:00

"love ain't supposed to feel this way
.
.
I don't know why i spend so much time,
On a love that isn't mine." - Trey Songz

2007-02-20T12:31:00.000-05:00

Why Can't I?"

Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you
It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it
So tell me
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you

2007-02-19T12:46:00.000-05:00

cool picture

lol

so sweet..

i could hardly blame cupid for doing so

2007-02-07T12:09:00.000-05:00

i was on facebook.com again.. yesyes.. i know how unconstructive and useless it is.. but then i stumbled across a discussion board with the title "Penises are Gross" when i joined the group "no abstinance, just sex education"... and in the disucssion.. you would asume that it would be amusing and the people would be comparing the different genitalia of human beings. but this was not so. instead, you have women talking about how (heterosexual) sex is still important and they are just sitting on their asses waiting for the right penis to pop up and prove them wrong. this pisses me off!!

why?

because if you want to join a group called "penises are gross".. say it with conviction! and mean it. dont just sit around discussing the false notion of the heterosexual soul mate who is also good in bed. thats close to being impossible. its usually either or. physcologicaly satisfaction.. or physical gratification. whoever is experience both simultaneously oconsistently.. u have my utmost respect and envy.

wait. i have nothing against penises at all. quite the contrary actually. i just hate how women are constantly dreaming about the perfect guy, thier prince in shinning armour to come save them from thier misery. while (most) men would never complain about how vaginas are gross.. actually any one is good! and anything else that makes the women merely increases the value of that sepcific vagaina. and everywhere i go i hear about women moaning and groaning about the lack of intimacy and love. FUCK THAT.

and then another part of the discussion was about how most women have been brought up to feel that they have inherently filthy bodies. there are always things about themselves to keep disclosed and hidden, because it is only inappropriate and unpleasant. tell me about it. i still see it at home, i hear it, i feel it.. and it pisses me off! how is it that boys are allowed to have farting, burping contests, long discussions about taking a dump, openly scratch their balls with filthy nails, and walk around with a face full of acne without shame. and on the other hand, women walk around... AT LEAST 25% of thier lives defined by the concept of shame. how unfair.

thank god for the growing population of "metrosexuals".

anyways gotta run. :)

2007-02-02T10:21:00.001-05:00

today i woke up to a heaviness in the heart.
(even though it feels more like the chest, diapraghm, the stomach - it seems to have become the phantom space the heart has been assigned to dominate)

i miss you.
(i know i should not, i hear your voice on the line every morning, i still hold your hands sometimes and you tell me you love me)

but i remember the taste of your skin, the faint coloured dust i carefully shaded onto your wall.
it seems, these days, pointless for any form of romanticization, for beauty to be softened, lovingly moudled and melted into into strawberry flavoured plams.
sticky sweetness, caught in your hair, your eyelashes.

it becomes a burden, theories of love, theories of broken normalcy, telling you that you are wrong. you
are
wrong. everything you know is
wrong.

right when you thought you had it all figured out. you inhale books written on pyschology, sociology, the science of politics, the science of your spleen, the ugliness of your spirit, your obnoxious ego, the contradictions of your mirrored self, the politics in the very language, the medium of your thoughts. everything you know is really not
what it seems.

anger arises, where the heart is. it feels cheated, lied to, disappointed in your very own gullibility, your vision framed by the black arms of prada. how could i have believed it was all true?

love is wrong. love you believe in is wrong.

so you close the door on yourself.
stop.

(just)
stop.

today i woke up to a heaviness in the heart.
i miss you
i miss the conviction i had in dreams of our entanglement, your cinamon finger tips and what i thought we could have been.
(but of course, it had been
silly
of me).

2006-12-07T09:21:00.000-05:00

he could be that boy -
but i am not that girl.

2006-12-02T19:55:00.000-05:00

"waiting, waiting, waiting
waiting for him to make a move.

Doesn't he know
He's gonna be my salvation?

It's lovely that he is caring, compassionate, and politically correct
but I need him to kiss me right now." - film adaptation of Prozac Nation

2006-11-28T16:06:00.000-05:00

there comes a time when you realize you simply cannot go do something ever again.

months have passed, i thought i was doing so well.. i thought i was coping just fine, that i'll be alright.. i wasn't even thinking about it that much anymore.... a little time would fix any emotional ailment.. i might even have found a good landing strip...

i thought it would be a phase like any other... heartbreak was typical and inevitable, and hence supposed to be inconsequential, temporary and bearable. i had vowed never to let boys do anything to me, that love is merely a false compromise between stability and happiness. the only irony now is that i am (still) devastated to find out i was right.

for the past 3 years, i loved him obsessively, my world evolved around the perpetual cycle of having and not having, the whole time immersed in a constant ache for something concrete, the same promises and dreams etched into the lines along our palms. i never knew how much i needed and wanted until i let him become my ever shifting shoreline - i never knew exactly where and when i could land and remain.

i am (still) very angry, to feel completely cheated and ostracized and rejected for the superficial facts that make me. dare i call it racism? dare i say i do not deserve this bullshit? dare i proclaim its hypocrisy in valuing labels over human autonomy? there had been no room or time for growth, learning, compromise. and now you tell me you had never understood me for even more reasons.

nothing could leave me more defeated.

was it all a waste of time? emotions and energy fed to the wind to fuel the storm this morning? but you heard it on the news, and only felt the drizzle of rain on your skin.

you still don't understand me.

and i am letting go.

2006-08-30T09:22:00.000-04:00

If You Can't Say Something Nice, Don't Say Anything At All - Margaret Atwood, Dropped Threads 1

read it.

2006-08-26T09:16:00.000-04:00

Augusten Borroughs on couple-cohabitation and magical thinking:
" Have i given up anything by living with another person? Has there been a trade off? Always, there is a trade-off. And the answer comes to me instantly. i have given up a certain degree of freedom. the ability to plow through my life with utter disregard for the thoughts and feelings of other people. I can no longer read a magazine and throw it on the floor.
In exchange, i get unlimited acess to the one person i have met in my life whom i automatically felt was out of my league. My favourtite human being, the single person i cherish above all others. This is the person i get to share the oxygen in the room with.
And for this, i will happily scrub the toilet. And i won't make fun of anybody who drives an SUV. Unless of course, they really desearve it. And I'll try to let things happen. Not always feel like i have to control everything.
With the exception of those things i can control, that is, with my mind." - Magical Thinking

a wonderful ending to a hilariously appalling book.

2006-08-16T22:07:00.000-04:00

oh, love.

" You thought you had it all figured out. You thought you were over him but now here he is again, sitting down at your kitchen table, saying, I've missed you, I've changed, you know you can trust me.

What you do know, within these ten minutes, is that you are willing to do absolutely anthing for him. You also know that you are going to give him another chance and he is going to hurt you again"
- Diane Schoemperlen, In a Dark Season

one of my favourite authors.

maybe one day i'll write like her.

2006-08-10T21:57:00.000-04:00

why do i love in despair?

2006-08-08T00:00:00.000-04:00

so much pretense.

pretend.

f.a.k.e. - - smells like artificial fur. tastes like polyester.

p.v.c. leather - pleather - for s.k.i.n. i cant feel anything.

our [s .p .a .c .e .g .r .o .w .s as the cicadas call for love----> ] still.

now, what?

who? how. owh. woh. ohw. owh. hwo. who? how. what?

i miss yoU.

2006-08-07T22:16:00.000-04:00

Under the weight of your wings, you are a god and whatever i want you to be.

I make believe you've got all that i need.

some of the random usless things i made...

2006-08-06T11:07:00.000-04:00

this is another rant:

i am sick and tired of people cateogrizing feminists into a small, fixed iditoic box in which only those who are unable to assimilate into this shitty sexist racist society completely would qualify. people are so blinded by all the bullshit stereotypes and rigid rules that they simply are toooooooo fucking retarded to find out that feminism.. isnt about lesbains, it isn a commmunity of only WOMEN. we aren't butches, we arent fat ugly women who cant get men( and trust me.. i think those who get away from wanting anyone are the only ones who have reached nirvana), neither are we trolls who prance the street and burn bras(why would we? if it wasnt an act of defiance? bras provide faboulous support u know.) and are man haters... when infact being a feminist merely means being someone who supports equality, for all (men included... men and women of alllllll cultures and races and what not. but of course, there is no such thing as race or nationality).

for example,(as a young woman)

if i like wearing makeup, it doesnt make me less of a feminist. i just have a soft spot for wanting to look desireable.. whether or not the mainstream idea of what beauty is is mostly defined by men. it doesnt mean that i dont support equality.

if i love men, i have sex with them and i fuck around. it doesnt make me less of a feminist. neither does it make me a whore, slut, while men are studs, casonovas... i just enjoy what most prudes are too afraid to enjoy. not to mention, being sexually active and unbashed is a form of resistance, as long as i dont go on international tv and celebrate what mass media would make me into.

if i wear tight jeans, to show off the nice ass i got from the gym, it doesnt make me less of a feminist. i just like the occasional attention. i mean, DONT FUCKING BLAME US if we have been brought up in a certain way to lik certain things. maybe not everyone has the bloody courage to change so completely. it does NOT imply that i do not believe in equality .

if i get married and have babies, own a nice picket fence and a golden retriver, it doesnt make me less of a feminist. i just happen to find someone i love(who simply happens to be male), and if i CHOOSE to stay at home, look after my babies and cook food, it doesnt imply i do not believe in equality. i merely enjoy doing what i do. and as long as i am fully appreciated, i choose to do what i want to do. isnt equality about choice?

if i have a lifestyle that never inspired me to think about feminism, per se... doesnt make me less of a femninist as long as i beleive in equality. so what if i had a lucky privileged life? does it mean i must feel guilty and ashamed of what i had because of my "lack of experience"? as long as i posess empathy, dont put me down.

also, i do not understand why women ahve to do allt he changing around here.. like.. not wearing skirts.. not wearing makeup.. not having children.. not having this not having tat.. like there is an economy of how much women are supposed to have or not have... while men sit on their big fat "masculine" asses with pants, not caring for the kids.. waving their big paycheques around(because they wont have as many family problems as women).. and so on.. the only change being that they ahve to start proclaiming that they support their women. like WHAT THE FUCK?

i am VERY VERY sick and tired of idiotic men insisting that since women have this now.. therefore men should have that as well. fucking idiots dont even realise that everything people talk about.. everything people study.. everything people do... is already centered their penises. everrrrryyythinggg done is done on their terms...or in relation to them. but alll they really do is just sit ont heir asses.. continue saying that they believe in equality.. do nothing else and insist everything must be exactly the same. its like telling the black person to pretend slavery didnt ever happen. what is this? historical amnesia?

if thats the case then, how come people dont group each other by the size of their ears? or noses? why create a whole hooha with a load of bullshit based on genitals? or skin colour?

2006-08-05T10:15:00.000-04:00

i've been so occupied with real life i have forgotten to look for beauty.

2006-08-02T00:28:00.000-04:00

this blog has been left alone for too long. i ought to blabber some insanity at 3am in the morning just to justify its meaningless existence.

maybe i could use my upcoming 20th birthday as an occasion. what happened to the good days when everything would be grabbed and made into an excuse to celebrate. valentines' day, christmas, new year, then chinese new year, then hari raya, then thursday morning, birthdays, aniversaries, etc. now they are merely seen as a way for consummerism's menacing hands to curl its swiney fingers around people's money and lives.. OR they just return to their original state of being useless, meaningless, tiresome days..... to match the monotony of my insiginificant life. or maybe im just bored out of my mind. and angry about it.

so.. do something about it. the most irritating offhanded, uninterested remark ever received by yours truly. oh i will, thank you very much. since i intentionally made it that way. please note the sarcasm of my words, and the very unhidden agenda of wanting to serverly fracture the skull of whoever says it to me with my very bare fists (and a handy brick wall). at first it made me sad, i felt unwanted, stupid, useless( not that i am not of course), but another part of me felt patronized, put down, insulted, dismissed, and therefore furious. maybe i had just made the mistake of believing in compassion and understanding in certain people.

as always, im always wrong. (note sarcasm has not yet ended)

i am dully aware that i am becoming incoherent.. and im sure to find some laughs in my rational state in the day when i do read this again.. (even though i have been accused for being irrational.... as the person i am). regardless.. i am enjoying this completely unedited rambling... considering i have yet to do anything of this sort for the past 4-5 months or so. maybe even longer. i dont know.

anyways back to me being furious. why do i get furious? how come anger is such a familiar flare in the pit of my stomach yet it bothers me so. desensitization doesnt occur all the time, particularly when it comes to anger. saddness... joy... yes. but rage still Burns. with a capital B.

i believe that it is mostly induced, or rather, casused, indirectly by the expectations and assumptions i make about people, especially the ones i hold dear. i would now see it as self-centredness on my part, to seek sympathy and understanding from someone else just as self centered. explanations, justifications, clarifications fly by the ears of the feigned listenter. reciprocity(of better things, not self centreredenss) does occur.. once in a while. many times however, big words, large oblivious accusations are thrown around, resulting in repressed, unexpressed, slept off irritation and anger that urges me to stop breathing and just wither and die. just so i wont have to ever deal with shit like that again.

but of course. it would happen again soon enough.

why cant i just die?

maybe after my useless, ignored, insignificant birthday. at least then it would be official that i died at nice, beautiful age. at least ill be young forever. age is terrifying. i decided i wont want to live past 45. espcially if by then i am not accomplished, elegant and perfect. it would be too vile to imagine if i am not. really and truly.

no one understands so many of the fears i have. yet they are so true. happens everywhere.. but everyones just denying the fact that LIFE IS FULL OF SHIT. instead, we spend our whole lives trying to find that something or someone special(after the godforsaken puberty) to serve as a disclaimer(if we havent already confirmed it somehow. my belief has just been continuedly renouced almost daily).

then, the funny thing is.. when we think we have found that someone of something.. we let them make our lives Burn, and vice versa. then we hold on to the sickly sweet gorgeous flawless days shared, adamant that all misery is temporary, the sickly cotton candy days are worth every bleeding heart, every reopened wound and every sleepless, Burning night. however, in the midst of hope and illusion, we fail to realise that hope only emerges together with miersy and the death of hope. ironically. just like how optimisim emerges the need to see the good in the shit thrown at us. and pessimism.. is merely seeing, in the good, how shitty things can get. because goodness = higher stakes = more chances to either fuck up or raise the stakes even more.

what happened to ambivalence?

how come no one talks about monotony, grey, dull hours, the in-betweens? no one talks about boredom, the looming nothingness of each second. the flat, dusty surfaces of life. are they not intersting? maybe the irony is.. by describing these things in a certain way... suddenly we are not merely describing the the thing we are describing. what we say suddenly becomes a stance, a position we simply must Choose in order to be comprehensible. am i being comprehensible? must we live in black and white, blue and red, roses and carnations, joyous and miserable, fucked up and blissed out, steady... and?

no room for in betweens.

or maybe we dont want them. after all, humanity rejoices in its fluctuating psyche. or am i just taught to beleive so?

well, my hands are getting tired. and i justwent on a strange rant to work of the Burning in my chest. although i barely said anything about what is exactly bothering me. i tend to lose myself in all the different Burns. its still there, but its now a orange glow of a discarded lit cigarrette butt floating on a ripple in a puddle by the road.

but the hate for my life..... has probably only begun. im only 20. i daresay i've got a good couple of decades to endure.. until maybe one day i'll grow some guts and initiated a change.

btw, as an end note. love sucks. i can almost hear the chorus of agreement of my immaginary audience. but goddammit, i want it too.

2006-07-29T11:50:00.000-04:00

Tumble.

One day the world stopped turning,
turned inside out.
I lost my bearings,
and she lost her heart.
And as we were tumbling inside the void,
I heard the silence and I also heard them say...
Hey now, my dear,
don't you know we prayed for you,
when we went down and we're waiting up here till we meet again.

But until then....
Hey now, hello....
calling all angels,
to bring some comfort back to the earth,
and to hold her all through the storm,
when she's tired and overwhelmed,
broken,
and worn.
And it feels like the movies,
when we're on the ground,
and everything's not alright but somehow there's peace to be found.

One day the world started turning again.
I opened my eyes and I'm down one best friend.
And if you should see her at least tell her this...
Hey now, my dear,
don't you know I care for you?
And if your heart hurts,
it’s only for a lifetime,
then you rest.

And it feels like the movies,
when we're on the ground,
and everything's not alright but somehow there's peace to be found.

2006-06-28T13:35:00.000-04:00

"there was a sense of distance, disjunction, a sadness that seemed to flow from some irrevocable and inexpressive failure." - Island Walkers, John Bemrose

your oblivion scares me.

maybe i have failed.

2006-06-10T11:41:00.000-04:00

feel like i dont want to be alone.

2006-06-01T21:48:00.000-04:00

2006-05-31T21:47:00.000-04:00

ultra racist pictures. they were real ads for Pear's soap during the colonialism period.

so so shocking.

another inspiring picture. but about patriarchial society. :) i love this one.

2006-05-22T12:55:00.000-04:00

the colour of today.

2006-05-20T22:06:00.000-04:00

Your words are like knives
They peel my skin and pierce my soul
Your body will burn tonight
Though your heart may still remain cold

And I will blame myself
For holding onto what i hoped would keep you by my side.
I will blame myself

The sheets are stained with
Memories of your soft kiss
Now this is all I have
Paper and pen
to remember you with

Can I have you?

- Dallas Green, Like Knives

im not sure how to do this anymore.

2006-05-19T22:43:00.000-04:00

it seems most of us have problems defining the wispy line between true lover and soul mate. must a soul mate also be great lover? must the soulmate be The One? Who's The One? a person with whom we have a great affinity, or someone you are romantically attached to? must you love your soul mate? must we only have one?

there has always been that assumption that soulmates constituted mating. that is, most of us assume that our soulmate would compliment our sexuality. you hear it in flamouyant romances, accounts of "soul-fusing" sexual encounters, and in wedding speeches, great love declarations all the time, about single inviduals who somehow manage to successfully play all the roles he/she is generally expected to, and become the hotly sought after cliche : friend, soulmate, lover, partner, cleaner, waitress, waiter, etc. does having a perfect marriage, perfect life, great sex, mean you found your soul mate? or did you just find a perfect partner?

we dont hear much about the platonic relationships, deeply rooted friendships, simultaneously complex and simple bonds between people, true understanding that does not require worry about sexual preferences, or romantic love. Are these people we hold so dear to us(and we dont even consider having sex with) our soulmates too?

heterosexuals appear to be the only ones allowed to even entertain this idea. well, we do know religion has done its trickery on most people .. so have olden greek legends about hermaphrodites, and even modern romance harlequin novels and movies that falsely romanticize man-woman relationships.it makes me wonder... if having a soulmate is a priviledge given only to hetereosexuals... is it just another one of those ridiculous stories used to socialize our sexuality?

another belief holds that we only have ONE soulmate lurking somewhere out there.. and that there is one for everyone. this thought is horrifying. what if we cant find him/her? what happens then? are we lost souls who wander the planet incomplete, a soul without its supposed companion? i simply do not accept this notion. it is simply too cruel, too narrow... inflexible. afterall, are we not creative humanbeings with our wonderful variety and multiplicities? wouldnt that mean the permutation of our intricate qualities, personal understandings, bring so many possibilities instead?

besides, what IS a soul mate really? are there different types? varieties in the type of soulmate a person can have? are soulmates default... or can we grow them? a dash or fertile soil, a sprinkle of seeds of potential, occasional rain, and a sweet hearted gardener.. wouldnt that work? and can soulmates lose a connection.. due to tragic experiences, disasters? "happily ever after" implies permanency.. but then how come collisions happen even to the best of us? no one ever talked about cinderella burning the toast once too often, or snow white getting a tan, or jasmine wishing aladin would go work, or beauty hating how her prince leaves the castle so much due to business trips, or Ken staring at the newer barbies.

do soulmates belong together? or can soul mates be apart, just being a part of each other?

.....

during my racism class on thursday, i learnt that being cunning was attributed to the chinese stereotype. it somehow shocked me, although i know it shouldnt, to be reminded that people around you are constantly taking in how you look, what you have and who you talk to, what you do, and insist everything that makes you YOU, physically and inside..MUST cohere. it also shocked me to hear something so absurd and almost foreign. Is that me? Is that us? Who is us?

i have always been aware of racism, sexism and other random crap tha social science has taught me, but at the moment of hearing it, i finally understood. i didnt feel defensive, or smug, or suddenly hating myself for having belong to a certain ethnicity. it just hit me in that very instant, that hey, its an inevitable part of me, and of every single one of us. not just in books, the black and white war, not just on tv, ur angry groccer, ur feelings of injustice and embarassment. these ideas, language, our life experiences are the very things that shape our flesh, calls us into existence. its name.. racism, whatever -ism. is just there. named, or not.

and must be fixed.

....

someone recently told me i had a very systematic life. highly structured, everything neatly placed. emotions here, brains here, actions here, and how. it was suprising.. to hear that. i always felt i was in a mess, everything i did was a mess, i am a mess in itself. confused, jumbled, worthless and scattered. emotions and all, everything was a huge mixed puddle of splatters of different paint.

maybe i let my emotions tell me more than they should.

....

i have plenty more to say.. i dont know why.. im tired, worn and my heart and head hurts. ill continue another time..

2006-05-19T12:47:00.000-04:00

no more.

2006-05-18T14:53:00.000-04:00

colour of today.

2006-05-17T14:28:00.000-04:00

now.. where did i put my drugs...?

2006-05-15T08:02:00.000-04:00

im getting fed up with this pretend-love bullshit. romance, girly(note the gender) mushie ooshie stories, experiences are all simulated, lies, illusions. propaganda for men or women(and heterosexuality) which/who do(es) not exist, the notion of the soul mate merely an apparition, a false destination that is permanently out of reach. a smiling ghost that mocks at you every time you notice its lack of tangibility.

people/i find themselves "incomplete", lonely, sad when they/i are/am left on their/my own. suddenly the world seems to empty and dull, its essence slowly and torturously gouged out layer by layer using some heated icecream scoop to be served chilled for another's pleasure. the ruby from raspberry sherbet loses its colour, with a generous dash of desertion, desperation and neglect. not to mention what other emotions and irrational actions that would invoke.

why do we/i let these pretenses and lies get us/me down... or even up?
...

i remember the first time a boy made me cry. it was strange but the only reason why i did it was because it felt appropriate. i didnt want to cry, i was not as upset as he was, i couldnt care enough. i was fine. who cares? but after heaving a book into his skinny, adolescent chest, i learnt that hurting is one of the ways to show you actually care. but i couldnt physically smash his face in for making me feel like shit. so i cried.

i didnt believe in love then. sex, thankfully was not yet in the equation. boys were fun company. i liked their lack of restraint, their coarse yet innocent taking up of what was supposed to be masculine... until i did it better than them with a nice punch in the stomach. they were easy going, less complicated. and besides, i was obligated to like boys with penises. which of course, i do. but like i said, that was all i knew then. i was convinced love was a coverup for hurting one another, selfishness, possessiveness, financial obligations, monogamy, and fake family values. tears were silly, a sign of weakness (=emotionality), girlishness. oh how i hated girls back then. useless little long haired helpless brats with pink mary janes and tears. and then that one day i mentioned above, i felt that helplessness. i became weak. i became a girl. suddenly i needed that love coverup.

now, the act of crying is alot simpler. most of the thought process is gone. just like how those dogs salivate at the ringing of the bells, for me hurt = tears. and there is hardly anything i can do to stop it anymore. in the name of this thing called love.

then came sex. because love makes us weak, susceptible to any form of tenderness and heightened intimacy, not to mention the mysterious hype surrounding it. to be clear, sex here means anything physically personal most of the people reading this blog would already have had experience with. for me, there was no mystery. i had the mindset of just figuring out how things are supposed to work. emotional attachment..? none. it was like the first time i played pool, drank beer, took the bus on my own. I felt a little excited only because i was doing it, and finally getting to see what it does. for a few years it did nothing for me. Apparently sex was supposed be part of love. part of the beauty of being stupidly vulnerable and close to your lover. but how come there was no fulfillment, satisfaction or even that much fun? most of the times it was awkward, ticklish and strange. all i knew it made things even complicated. little did i know in exchange for the awkwardness and the lack of fun for emotional attachment and good stuff, it would get even more complicated with investments, emotional/physical stock markets and so on. Even with extreme methods of contraception thanks to modern technology, is sex ever safe?

Now I am in love! I ride on the waves of endorphins, I yearn for one person, one body. I let sorrys work their magic because I care so much I forget myself. I want him to be mine. MY raspberry sherbet. MY world. And I want to be HIS. Is this love? Or is it a coverup for hurting one another, selfishness, possessiveness, monogamy, loneliness and the socialized desire to find a soul mate, one who "completes" me?

During the downtimes, I revert to my cynicism, angry with myself for letting myself get so easily hurt. Disappointed. Hopeless. Weak. Silly. Wrong. Useless. Deserted. Even more lonely. Pathetic. I mean, arent parents made to feel like that all the time too?

I tell myself its my fault for believing the hype in the first place. And that I am just stupid to give in to such romanticized notions of living life and the relationships that form along the way. But im secretely hoping someone would tell me I am wrong.

2006-05-05T19:00:00.000-04:00

i falter.

2006-04-22T16:05:00.000-04:00

We are doomed to choose, and with every choice, an irreparable loss.

The economy of having and not having; needing, wanting and then lacking

I guess that is what they mean when they say life isn't fair.

Receipts recording transactions can be found lodged somewhere in the cracks in my memory, and heart made of sand.

Somewhere in between here and where we were supposed to go,
I faltered and drifted away.

how do i love?

Take me home.

2006-04-18T12:06:00.000-04:00

2006-03-29T11:03:00.000-05:00

hi, my name is sarah jessica parker. i wear couture every day and i spend 40,000 dollars on shoes alone in a year. i have my own column in the new york times which then became a book and it made me 25000 in a month. i own a cozy little apartment and i cannot cook. i only date boys who have houses in the hamptons or paris and have drivers who take them around in bentleys and i sleep with whomever i want. i am also popular and i party with the girls all the time. i have 3 best gal pals who are just like me. except one of them doesnt work at all, ones a pretigious PR and the other is a kick ass lawyer. life is good. and everyone wants to be like me.

...

yea, thats why idiots like me are addicted to sex and the city. she lives the fantasy life.. in my opinion.. of being cmpletely autonomous and as individualistc as she wants. there is no traditional push and pulls, no religion, no social pressure whatsoever(except not to wear scrunchies in public), nor does she need to watch her weight despite so much cake, martinis and junkfood. oh sigh, the jealousy.

then again, its the fantasy that keeps me watching.

the fantasy of being independent, carefree and confident, on a "chic" journey to find "all consumming, inconvinent, cant-live-without-you love". ironic thing is.. thats when the shit happens.

2006-03-25T10:15:00.000-05:00

once again, on being beautiful.

everyday.

capulet and montague.

an ollldddd picture i took

2006-03-25T10:07:00.000-05:00

http://www.julietmartin.com/ - simply genius!!

2006-03-13T14:15:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts from 2:23pm - 2:55pm, 13th March 2006.

i have been told so many times that i might be asking too much out of life. the funny thing is.. that never struck me until yesterday, talking to ronald (r1). for a split second i experienced a jolt of dejavu, names of peole flooding my head, suddenly fully aware that was far from the first time it has been said to me.

i always considered that a good thing, a drive that might somehow land me into wonderful exciting spots. i remember telling myself since i was a little kid, that once i am 17/18, i would be carelessly unwise, nonchalant, seeking and moving from life's perk to another, happily wedged between understanding and mastering the world. but of course, things never happen as planned.

i am 2 years over due and im still waiting.

did i grow too fast that i missed those moments? did my desire to devour everything ironically caused me to miss my stop? or does the hurt and decaying self-worth come from nostalgia for something that never existed? or does it come from my helplessness and powerlessness, and struggle to suffocate myself and become someone else? the contradictions of my personality?

maybe it is just all my fault.

....

labels are thrown at me. i admit to one thing, beleive in another and i am called a hypocrite. i hate being the unpredictability of being in love, but i am in love with love. i call myself a feminist, but i worry about looking like a female fat ass. i scorn bimbos, but damm do i love those dior bracelets. superficiality. pretentiousness. people become means to an ends for each other. give each other labels, smile and pretend otherwise and use the labels for whatever reason.

....

what is love?

is love having no expectations or having them satisfied?

is love found in constant excitement and maintained novelty, or familiarity and reciprocity?

is love allowing to be hurt, or being allowed to hurt?

does love carry us through all the tough times, or is love about making each time good?

....

people tell me my thinking is gonna kill me soon enough. and i agree. we are but human, they say. flawed beings and bodies. then why make that ideal? why the concept of perfection? why do we judge? why do we bleed each other? a mechanism of control? what control? who? why?

why must i care? why would i bother? why do i fear? why do i cry? why do i laugh? why do i love? why do i dread? why do i anticipate? why can't i just be alone? why do i live?

why dont i want to live?

2006-03-13T11:34:00.000-05:00

Almost Doesn't Count - Brandy

Almost made you love me
Almost made you cry
Almost made you happy, baby
Didn't I didn't I
You almost had me thinkin
You were turned around
But everybody knows
Almost doesn't count

Almost heard you saying
You were finally free
What was always missing for you, baby
You found it in me
But you can't get to heaven
Half off the ground
Everybody knows
Almost doesn't count

I can't keep on lovin' you
One foot outside the door
I hear a funny hesitation
Of a heart that's never really sure
Can't keep on tryin'
If you're looking for more
Than all that I could give you
Than what you came here for

Gonna find me somebody
Not afraid to let go
Want a no doubt be there kind of man
You came real close
But everytime you built me up
You only let me down
And everybody knows
Almost doesn't count

Maybe you'll be sorry
Maybe you'll be cold
Maybe you'll come runnin' back, baby
From the cruel cruel world
Almost convince me
You're gonna stick around
But everybody knows
Almost doesn't count

So maybe I'll be here
Maybe I'll see ya 'round
That's the way it goes
Almost doesn't count

2006-03-07T22:27:00.000-05:00

toss me into a whirl whenever you please.. and then leave me hanging.

2006-03-04T14:57:00.000-05:00

this is what i call.... scanner art.

2006-03-04T08:28:00.000-05:00

i am back into my tori amos / skunk anansie / (old)alanis morrisette moods these days..

moody, angry, lonely and a tad helpless.

again.

anyway, who has time for this anyway?

2006-03-04T08:18:00.000-05:00

Hedonism - Skunk Anansie- gotta love her

I hope you're feeling happy now
I see you feel no pain at all it seems
I wonder what you're doin' now
I wonder if you think of me at all
Do you still play the same moves now
Or are those special moods
For someone else
I hope you're feeling happy now.

Just because you feel good
Doesn't make you right
Just because you feel good
Still want you here tonight

Does laughter still discover you
I see through all those smiles
That look so right
Do you still have the same friends now
To smoke away your
Problems and your life
Oh how do you remember
Me the one that made
You laugh until you cried
I hope you're feeling happy now

I wonder what you're doing now
I hope you're feeling happy now

2006-02-28T18:25:00.000-05:00

on being beautiful today:

picture of uprising "it" model from FLARE magazine wearing a 5200dollar Chanel wool dress.

random cuttings for today:

came across them while i was looking through old magazines

2006-02-24T21:02:00.000-05:00

welcome to the age of wonder woman:
the woman who is everything your fantasies encompass and more.

shes strong, she's superman's beautiful counterpart. she is an amazon goddess with a 22 inch waist,long muscled martial artistse legs - thanks to her wonderful personaltrainer and her hectic schedule of saving the world, glossy raven hair that cascade around her bronzed shoulders, courtesy of loreal hair studios and olay illuminating lotion respectively. she never leaves the house without her truth rope - a priceless family hierlom, custom cavali-made red knee-high patent leather stileto kick-ass boots, and limited edition earrings and reflective platnuim cuffs from tiffany that protect her from sparkling bolts of evil.

when superman goes out to work at the justice league tower in his immaculate amarni pleatless suit and dunhill briefcase, wonderwoman quickly cleans the house with superspeed, takes dinner out to taw and scribbles down a new delicious recipe, reads an intellecutal journal and the papers, spend quality time with superbaby(s),take a calming lavender scented bath, puts on her makeup, picks out a gorgeously flattering yet fashionable outfit that is both professional and subtly sexy, examines her perfectly manicured nails, kisses superbaby goodbye and gets to work perfectly on time.

at the tower, she asserts herself tactfully, climbs up to origianl committee, establishes fufilling bonds with her fellow superheros, make a few best friends she occasionally has tea and crossiants with and with whom she would confide in, gossip, have philosophical discussions, charm everyone with her playful sense of humor, save the world without a hair out of place. all in a days work.

back at home, wonderwoman puts dinner on the titanum stove, refreshes herself, plays with superbaby, changes into a comfy agent provocateur satin camisole set and does the laundry, spends relaxing evening flirting with superman over dinner and tiramisu for dessert, lovingly puts superbaby to bed and then have intense emotionally and physically satisfying sex with superman on their 4000 thread count sheets, after which she would write down poetry inspired by Lord Byron and endearingly draws a sketch of her sleeping lover before getting her 8 hours of enriching deep sleep.

Wonderwoman: the eptitome of female perfection in our society today. the modern woman who keeps a perfect household filled with gorgeous things, is a wonderful mother, makes delcious meals, looks immaculate, is an intellectual who is at the same time funny, charming, artsy, atheletic and beautiful. a woman who has found her perfect lover, her perfect best friends, and has mastered her workplace and world. nothing fazes her. nothing holds her back. she gives all of herself. nothing smudges her eyeliner. she is constantly happy, passionate, balanced. all with only 24 hours in each day. a woman who can do everythng. and has everything.

most of us modern woman-mortals have tried and failed. what now?

2006-02-17T13:09:00.000-05:00

And so it is.

i am still the same.

everyday, every week, every month,every year, i tell myself things will be different. i will change. i will make things different. i was so determined, on every new day, to finally shape my own world and make it rotate on the axis i choose. don't we all?

yet it would spin precariously out of our hands each time we thought we had a good hold on it. hoping it would be our under control, our manipulation, our very own measured pleasure... until we reach a certain point, also known as reality - breaking through a crakced surface to an ephiphany that our lives are not wholly independent of one another, we cannot always choose. not even what happens within ourselves.

what is this ephiphany? defeat or growing up?

2006-02-14T17:12:00.000-05:00

I am
repeatedly
folded into the empty, available hollows of your life.

and I let it be.

I still yearn,
to melt precariously into the bodies' crevices.
A heart dissolved in
tears.
blood.
words.
sex.

This liquid debris is
mellifluous, changing, shapeless.
charmingly silent –

Malleable,
the only way it can be.

The way I let it be.

-purl.

2006-02-10T10:16:00.000-05:00

the MOST beautiful love scene i have ever, ever read. the reconcilation of grief.

"There was very little that anyone could say to clarify what happened next. Nothing that would separate Sex from Love. Or Needs from Feelings.

Except perhaps no Watcher watched through Rahel's eyes. No one stared out of a window at the sea. Or a boat in the river. Or a passerby in the midst in a hat.

Except perhaps that it was a little cold. A little wet. But very quiet. The Air.

But what was there to say?

Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat only that a hard honey colored shoulder had a semicircle of teeth marks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.

Only that one again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much." - Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

the whole book is gorgeous and so moving.

2006-01-30T23:13:00.000-05:00

thanks to hilmi.. for telling me about this song.. i just adore it!

"So leave yourself intact
Cause I will be coming back.
In a phrase to cut these lips,
I love you.

The morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you decide to wake up.

I earned through hope and faith
The curves around your face
That I'm the one you'll hold forever.
If morning never comes for either one of us,
Then this I pray to you wherever." - Coheed and Cambria, Wakeup.

its funny, this love business.

2006-01-29T00:46:00.000-05:00

i am starting to get sad looking at models and other women in magazines that sutlely instruct us on what a woman is.. and what a woman/girl is supposed to look like. the more i look at them..in magazines.. on television.. on my computor screen.. the more i feel like the ugly, short, fat imposter who is trying to pull off the new "young woman/girl" look.. that has been trendy since human civilization apparently.. and failing miserably. i have days and moments i feel i have no right to actually even call myself a young woman... much less a little lady. im okay with girl.. coz it doesnt hold much.. just a young internally and externally shapeless female character waiting for the moment she finds a fitting mould.

its pathetic.. this body image frustration.. the constant plumment of self esteem over something so trival. i always thought ovaries made a woman.. not the length of her legs, the size of her "tits" and ass..perfectly tanned skin.. perfect eyebrows, perfect "feminine" clothing, a small perfectly proportional body, perfect hair that tumble and cascade over lovely shoulders. i never knew it would mean wishing i LOOK like someone else.. or having so many contradictions and problems rising from wearing a mini skirt and such fixed roles. nor did i know it also meant for the female sexuality to be under the control of society. (i am not saying the male sexuality isnt either.. but face it.. whoever thinks critically would get what i mean).. even without mentioning how "sexy" a woman is now defines her.

lets just talk about stereotypes... women are happily reduced to walking sizable body parts.. a fuckable moving object.. the men exclaiming and sweating over images of naked women... or how so damm "cute" a woman/girl is. coz the man's sexuality is apparently insatiable.. continuous, understandable. love comes later. whenever the man is ready. the level of her accomplishments and intelligence simply determines how valuable her "pussy" is. then maybe it MIGHT slavage a relationship when the poor woman becomes unattractive merely by aging. the guy, regardless of age, is the hungry increasing wise wolf on the prowl. on the other hand, women are supposed to take men for being themslves.. hence the complaint that hot women somehow end up with unworthy counterparts.. coz apparently the woman searches for love and personality.. she is supposedly emotional and understanding, nuturing, soft.. sex and the size of his joystick comes later.. coz if she puts it first.. she is immediately reduced to first her fuckable body parts.. and then to labels. the men get the words "stud" and women become "sluts".. simply because it is "unnatural" for a woman to be in touch with her sexuality. and because men are.. they are allowed to be assholes.. while society banishes the sluts.

then the stereotypes of the biological side of men and women. lets see.. the men sweat in expensive gyms to cultivate lickable abdomal muscles, they bleed from fights, they fart and laugh, they ejaculate and openly beg the women to swallow in magazines.. and somehow everyone applauds and take all that in stride. a shower, deoderant and colonge is optional buddies.. the manliness of your body secretions is aparently so sexy the women wil fall to their knees and kiss your filthy cowboy boots in hope of taking them home. on the contrary.. the women "glow", they ovulate and then bleed during their periods... the whole time frantically scrambling for "solutions" to mask it. there is an amazing array of products to make a woman smell like lialics, wine, crushed violets.. so she wont smell "funny".. so she isnt allowed to be human. during ovulation.. women are your fucking buddies.. their bodies "want" babies.. they splurge on ridiculous lingerie and makeup.. gym memberships to somehow maintain their lithe-ness without packing on "too much" muscle.. to seduce the "typically" wandering eyes of the men. and then.. on her period.. everything is hush hush.. we are supposed to shut up.. and pretend it doesnt happen.. coz its "disgusting" and a "hinderance". women run in and out of drugstores in shame, a pack of maxipads tucked discretely under their arms. the discussion of bodily functions of a woman is never allowed. well.. except for the overrated and exaggerated orgasm 62% of women admit to faking every now and then.

so.. whos allowed to be "themselves"? am i being myself? are you?

.. to be continued.

2006-01-23T15:05:00.000-05:00

been reading my old emails as i resisted the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. i wonder what happened in the middle. i always thought i am a consistent person.. am i? or maybe i have just grown to want and expect more? it sucks the most when happy past memories hurt now. you look at the debris lying around you. but then again.. we dont want to lose them. such contradictions. how will i ever learn to juggle magic and logic? the loss of myself?

i have spent mostof my day in bed.. just thinking, daydreaming, reading.. now and then dozing off to voices of musicians singing of worlds strange and familiar.

why did you mess with forever

i have to admit, i had wanted to give up. on everything. i wanted to give up because i knew i only had myself to blame for making myself a victim. it can only be my own fault for being lonely, angry, miserable. i asked for too much in too short a time. i sought to conquer a terrain i have absolutely not idea about. i did not plot and execute my plan accordingly. i was too impatient and emotional. now here i sit hours upon hours within the confines of my room too aware of what mistakes i made.

start over i guess. its been so long.

2006-01-20T22:36:00.000-05:00

this sudden injury. to have you go away.
love.the one thing i'd love to hate.
its strange a strange emotion, having to remind myself you are not within reach. i had thought you were far.. but this is a dull ache at the back of my head, my chest, my words. it is also strange how much i want you, how much i want to tell you.. the colours of the sky today, my thick comfy socks, my dreams.
maybe i miss u.
come back soon.

2006-01-17T22:14:00.000-05:00

i cant help but feel the urge to chasten myself for being the weepy old romantic i am, evident just from my blog - the celebration of the tortured soul that burns at the tip of a lover's tongue, a crushed aluminum can clattering noisely, but unnoticed, along the side of the road while cars speed by as frozen rain falls from the overcast sky.

fraility, mallability and softness were not attributes i would have celebrated a few years ago. what caused this change? what happened to the impenetrable heart, refusal for intamacy, my stiff, unwieldy desires? what happened to the petulant girl who fought fiercely for what she thought she believed in, regardless of who it hurt, just by the words being said. for a while she thought she did everything right, she got what she wanted, she thought she was a glowing inextinguishable light.

it would be easy and dull to say puberty happened. or maybe certain things had forced me to stop resisting softness, and to embrace my emotions, allow myself to be shaped and moulded, rather than to shape and mould. it is only natural, to do what is right and instructed. maybe i just let my "true self" through?

at this point, i find myself confused. how to i tell the story of a person? a person who has lived within me, as me, and is me. do i know myself best? or does someone else who knows my life?

2006-01-13T21:56:00.000-05:00

the light in your eyes dim,
your oblivious touch has become foreign and cold.
surely you cannot blame me for recoiling in unrecognition and hurt;
the words i say;
the words i dont.

i thought by numbing myself it would work, but im sick and tired of being so sick and tired, disappointed with my disappointment. hopeless with the absurd power you hold.

what fell through the cracks?

...

i feel like a great loser. nothing is turning out the way i hoped and imagined. i feel like a failure in every aspect of life. school, love, family, work, friends.. everything. i feel helplessly redundant, useless - a cumbersome and hideous outgrowth of society, my patheticness a slap in my face. i cant even bear to look in the mirror.

every day my faith burrows itself into the dirt a little bit more.

...

and there is no one to hold me anymore.

maybe i will just keep sinking.

2006-01-07T10:55:00.000-05:00

careless.
you have become the greater world.
i stand,
ready to leap.
and perhaps,
fall.

...

why do the world behind our eye lids and the one we see differ so?

...

im slowly losing my mind.

2006-01-02T00:10:00.000-05:00

todays blog will include random responses to edwards blogs, given we havent spoken for months:

a mentor. why do we need one? a trusted teacher and counselor, a guide. why wouldnt we want to throw ourselves into life with abandon, relish in its unpredictability and suprises? to allow oursleves to gravitate toward worlds that pull at us with its inexplicable forces, and react the way we were "naturally" conditioned to? why are we the way we are?

why do we need justify, to rationalize, to know what is right and wrong, the thick, solid earth under the soles of our "caged" imaginations? do our imaginations even deserve to be called remarkable? or worthy? why do we feel the need to justify our tiny lives? the thoughts streaming from minds however big and small, yet so petty and inconsequential, only except to ourselves? why do we do what we do?

we ask for faith, a someone, something, to tell us what to do, how to do it and why. we refuse to consider the possibility that we are but insignificant. reasoning being the only excuse and purpose we have to multiply; and behave like the tiny giants we are, stomping on other lives, inventing crumbling walls made out of intangible commodities that somehow land and truly destroy, creating similar monsters that ravage and rape all that surrounds the ones in control, while perhaps the trascendent watch and chuckle. vapors of prayer swirlling up to their oblivious eyes, as we hang from their lips.

but who made right and wrong? who invented morals? the ones with money or the laughing gods? why do individuals find themselves tormented and confused, yearning for a role model? the other individual that we trust somehow represents all that is right and appropriate in our eyes. but whos eyes are we seeing through?

maybe, edward, while u find the absence jarring, my questioning is what messes me up. i dont know what i dont understand.

.

conrad's heart of darkness, the lord of the flies, the beach, oscar wilde, baudrillard, kristeva.. etc.. the books/writers(of whom i have happened to read, albeit a tiny number) who expose the replusiveness of man(to clarify, i mean humankind in generally, to establish my lean toward politically correctness).. especially the modern man. the stink of the rot and burning flesh discretely covered by expensive perfumes made from crushed plants, hidden by the fur made from squealing animals, the sound of bank machines, the cocking of guns, the pouding of acid rain and hail stones in a tropical country. optimisim, my friend, of which i am glad you still harbour, isnt even an option for me anymore. im just waiting for the day we explode and slaughter each other with sharp tree branches. :)

.....

i only want you to see me as the most beautiful girl in the world.

haha found this on msn.com:
Leo profile
Leo can be among the most arrogant, self-absorbed signs of the zodiac, but also among the most tender and generous. As the lion king of the cosmos, you are a force to be reckoned with — and you'd have it no other way. Full of ego and the insecurity that inevitably accompanies it, you demand respect. The successful Leo, however, learns how to command it. You thrive on the esteem of others, but privately your self-esteem wavers. A natural performer, you can be a powerhouse of creative talent, charisma and instinct. You crave the spotlight and take great pains to grace it. But as you mature, your opinion will grow more independent of others. You'll seek a quieter dignity and nobility, not unlike that of an elder statesperson. Great actors may begin by upstaging their colleagues, but they eventually let their art speak for itself. You'll come to view self-promotion as a crude distraction and get out of your own way. At that point, your devotion to longtime loyalists will overwhelm your temptation to indulge lusty flatterers. As life experience humanizes you, appearances will still matter, but they'll take a back seat to true feelings.

my mars+venus sign:(how frigheningly true)
Mars: capricorn
Venus: libra

You're driven, ambitious and tough. Serious about relationships, you play for keeps. Casual affairs and kinky play aren't your bag, baby.

Your Mars is in capricorn True, you have natural poise and reserve. But that shouldn't be interpreted as weakness. You need respect and you'll earn it — or else you'll leave. Your innate trustworthiness makes you a dependable mate who's willing and able to commit (even if it does take a while). You enjoy lots of wholesome sex — no one would accuse you of being kinky.

Your Venus is in libra Your natural state is to be in a relationship, and even when single you're always juggling prospects and options. You know how to treat your lovers well. They enjoy being with you because of your looks and sense of style. Underneath it all, however, you can be high-maintenance. You're likely to say whatever someone wants to hear in order to keep a relationship stable.

i kinda agree with it. :) finally one i can relate to. haha.

ill save my newyears speech for another time my shoulders arent hurting.
....

2005-12-24T23:24:00.000-05:00

now that we have come to the end of 2005, i will do the cliche of making a list.

who would have thought:
- i would be driving people around with a licence
- i am able to talk to strangers without any qualms when i am in the mood
- i find soft snow flakes on a not so cold morning pleasant
- i would succumb to wearing heels for more than 2 hours for the sake of vanity
- i would enjoy shovelling snow as the cold numbs me inside and out
- i would have to beg someone to love me the way i thought i should be
- i would make more friends in sg more than in canada while being in canada
- i would still be lonely
- i could work almost everyday for long and tiring hours at a sales job without breaking down so far
- working distracts me from my emotions, which then allows the illusion of rationality. or maybe engaging in the mainstream society is rationality?
- i would hate life and the world this much.
- i would love and want this much and not get it back
- i would find shopping as pathetic and superfiial consolation that ends up making me feel like shit anyhow
- i would still spend endless days alone, and still feel the impact of it
- i would bring in dough!
- i would realise i might never have you, nor everything i want

.. to be continued.

2005-12-12T22:30:00.000-05:00

i think you might be right, ronald, to say that im cursed.

cursed to either be stuck with someone i totally do not want to be stuck with, or wanting to be stuck with someone i cant have. at least, never in the present.

but sometimes i cant take the waiting.

what can i say. i do not regret anything. i would not say i would swap this hurt for moving on from one empty relationship to another, which i know i would do if i hadnt been truly stolen. the cliched search for the worshipper, the friend, the worshipped. the person i would clip wings on.

did i make a mistake u ask? perhaps i did, to have knowingly put myself in this position, and anticipating this explosion that nevertheless took me by suprise. maybe its my own fault that i cry hot tears of frustration so freely, my fists clenched so angrily like a disgruntled child who did not get what she wants, out of desperation, overwhelmed by disappointment. maybe it was my fault this was foreseen and i did nothing to prevent it. i cannot even deny my previous urge to give myself insurance, to hesitate and save myself. but i gave in one and a half years ago. what would i be if i had not?

i hate being held away at a distance because of inevitable reasons. i always hated not being in control, not completely understanding, to not be completely understood. nothing to do to fill up the gapping hole but to embrace my irrational emotions and simply cry. helplessly like a girl. the one indulgence i gave up fighting at moments like these.

often i wonder if i am meant to just collect promises, glowing stars i hold close and never get to redeem them. i only hope. maybe one day you wont have to leave me the way u did on those crazy summer mornings, rainy fall afternoons, yesterday, the day before, this evening, sighing, alone, loneliness annouced by a dramatic hush of silence that falls. sometimes even to hear u didnt want to after 6 hours no longer hold consolation for the damage already done.

i am still waiting. forgive me if i become a girl once in a while. this searing abandonment has yet to leave, distractions are hard to find here and loneliness does take some time to get used to.i guess i have to start picking up the pieces from the bottom again.

2005-12-12T12:29:00.000-05:00

Catalyst - Anna Nalick

L.A. lights never shine quite as bright as in the movies
Still wanna go
There's something here
In the way, in the way that we're constantly moving
Reminds you of home
So you've taken these pills
For to fill up your soul
And your drinking them down with cheap alcohol
I might be inclined to be yours for the taken
And part of this terrible mess that you're making
But me, I'm the catalyst

When you say love is a simple chemical reaction
Can't say I agree
Cuz my chemical, yeah, left me a beautiful disaster
Still love's all I see

You'll be the thing
You'll be the pain
You'll be the star
You'll be the road, rolling below
The wheels of a car
And all of the thoughts, oh god
Don't know if I'm strong enough now
You'll be the thing
You'll be the pain
You'll be the
Catalyst

These L.A. lights, no no,
They don't shine quite as bright as back in Frisco
Do you wanna go?
Still wanna go

...

i dont know where i am going.

...

i admire the truly self absorbed. i am one of them i know, the world revolving around my own selfish pain, sucking everything into a blackhole. believing the world has my heart chained and wrapped barbed wire, dragging it along the ground as it moves in a way i cannot comprehend.

i admire the ones who truly believe in the face value, the ones who party and drink and shop endlessly, with bonds held significantly by those activities itself, and find that their lives are full. those who believe the world moves with purpose, that everything we do isnt written in ash from the burned souls. the ones who can only talk about themslves, insist everyone cares and their stories relevant and important. those who believe the lousy cliche that "actions speak louder than words".

they both work in parallels dont you think?

2005-12-12T10:47:00.000-05:00

i
am
defeated.

i guess you will never feel what i feel.

2005-12-06T22:50:00.000-05:00

Winter
The beginnings of frosted windows, breaths plumes of vapor against the grey skies, and numb, chapped lips. Constantly fleeing from the merciless winds that make me forget how to live. Ice crystals in my wet hair early in the morning at the bus stop as I watch you look away.
Days that begin too late and end too early.
Long nights I crave and pine for the warmth of your skin. Just for you to be close enough.

Tears
from the sky. Snow flakes plummeting and rushing into my reluctant face.
Tears overflowing messily and continuously from my eyes.
Today, my heart can only hold so much.

Superheroes
You are my superhero. The one with flames at your finger tips, thorns in your eyes, wine and knives in your words, and in the sound of your leaving.
Superheroes fight the battle of good versus evil. Beowulf swam for weeks in the sea, receiving torques of gold and honorary goblets of mead.
Good princes fight dragons with emerald scales and glowing eyes, and scorching breaths.
I am not good. Nor am I evil. Why do I feel like I am fighting to find you?

Why
the overwhelming desire to share the dull agenda of daily life?

Ordinary
Normal, usual, same, sane, accepted, understood, unafraid.
I never mean it when I say I am just an ordinary girl. I may look like one, but they are the lucky ones.

2005-12-05T23:09:00.000-05:00

"I would like to think that what we have could exist outside of real time, that it could be a thing apart and not invade. Foolish and dangerous thinking. It has already invaded every part of my life" - Anita Shreve, The Last Time They Met.

2005-11-29T18:46:00.000-05:00

im stupid, obsese and ugly. why would anyone care? maybe i do deserve being the way i am. maybe i do deserve to spend the whole of my life in tears, angry, jealous, depressed, skeptical, cynical. maybe i deserve to loathe myself the way i do. maybe i am going to spend the whole of my life self conscious and then angry that i am self conscious. maybe i am going to spend the rest of my life pinning. maybe i will always be lonely and misunderstood. not that being understood will make me less angry. i will still be angry that i am the way i am.

maybe i deserve to spend my whole life watching the clock. waiting for something to happen. something that would make me forget the time.
all
i
am
doing
is
waiting for you.

2005-11-25T21:50:00.000-05:00

"I envy everyone. I feel I don't deserve any of what little I have. I wonder when I came to hate myself so much. I envy people that can go around ignorant to everything. I envy the perfect plastic people that I will never become a part of. I envy happy people. I envy people that don't want to die, and haven't had to consider dying as their best option for future happiness. Was it all worth it in the end? Is it ever worth it? Is anyone ever truly happy?"

2005-11-22T13:15:00.000-05:00

" i didnt get along with my parents either, but at least i didnt know anything better or anywhere else, except the bloody icy playground and streets around my home. But Zulma? she talked of beaches and blue sea, sunshine and coconut trees, and days being so hot the asphalt would melt, and a gran who thought she was the most important person in the world. If i were in her shoes i would have gone mad, or maybe run away, but she didnt. At least she had me" - Harriet's Daughter, Marlene Nourbese Philip

thats what friends are for

2005-11-07T22:31:00.000-05:00

maybe i will never understand the words, the intoxication and ecstasy you hold obliviously in your hands. maybe you wouldnt. But i will never forget.

you are my everything.

2005-10-22T09:58:00.000-04:00

its been a long time since i blogged. seems like i never really had the time nor the energy to. the past weeks have been occupied by essay writing.. searching for comfort amongst the endless and yet familiar corridors of york campus.. the nagging reluctance to drag myself to work where i would smile and talk with false confidence... all in the drowsy cloud of the lack of sleep, emotions, insecurities and urges that tug and pull at obligations, the descend of faltering warmth, falling leaves, black coffee fumes at 6 in the morning, my headlights flinging beams of light forward into the grey.

the same old.

thoughts fill my mind. i just cant seem to write them down. yet. perhaps.

just some funny pictures me and dawne took today.

2005-10-06T21:59:00.000-04:00

"this sense of disjunction between them seemed stronger than ever to him, a saddness. it seemed to come out of the ground, out of the damp hay and blossom scents, out of the brances of new leaves: a saddness and yes, a sense of deepening vulnerability. like a trapeze artist, he had abandoned his swing to throw himself into the air towards her. He had to be sure her hands were there to catch him. Perhaps, he wondered with a kind of terror, she was warning him off love in an attempt to get him back to her perch. But it was already too late. He was tumbling through the air, his arms outstretched, his hands open." - The Island walkers, john bernrose.

what a gorgeously sad paragraph.

i really should stop reading random books instaed of doing my homework. for the past 3 or 4 days i have been read about 5 novels.. 2 of which i read twice, not counting On the Road for my essay. like woh. havent done that in a while.

im deprived of attention. :( im like those pathetic miserable toddlers sitting sullenly at the corner of the daycare feeling anti social and tired of tryin to get attention instead of having it come to me. hmph. :..(

maybe i really should pick up tv for good. at least it talks to me without me having to prompt.

aww _@*_)($#@$@ i got work tomorrow.

why does everything i do in life feels like a bloody obligation and all i feel is just so effin tired.

i crave bubble tea. winter melon red tea with aloe vera :( i SULK.

I SULK. :(

2005-10-05T09:20:00.000-04:00

"You're an academic.

"Not even close. Academics follow a train of thought. They specialize. i see a book on dressage or beekeeping or Elizabethan footwear, and i have to check it out. I'm not a gourmet, i'm a glutton. It's a sickness."" - Balloon, Tim Wynveen

the anarchy of desire.

2005-10-02T23:12:00.000-04:00

a very weird thing to think about in the shower but yes, i was thinking about the little letter a professor from Queens university being disappointed in her white students who would become racist and everything politically incorrect and indignified at the drop of a beer keg. wonderful for someone to be so passionate about her work, i thought as i inhaled the yummy sweetness of my shampoo.

then i thought, in her sense, being dedicated to her work would mean passion for intellectual material, education. which i have come to convince myself is merely like what the ancient greeks said knowledge was - a way to conquer the body. AND then it lead to the thought of how ironically it is the most educated, most composed and rational that suddenly decides to fling caution(so only certain extents, funnily enough) to the wind and celebrate sensuality.

poems, music, stories, actions, broken rules, morales then gush from this stream of thought.

then at moments where a person is stripped of the educated consciousness, all has gone to hell.

hmm. how ironic.

well, whatever.

today, i have been abused and vandalised and trapped in a hideous cement cage. in other words, given burises for saying im flubbery(which is true. i feel terrible about it too), drawn on really nicely with a blue pen and sat in the worst plastic creaky chair ever made for mankind at scott library for 5 hours almost. needless to say, i got depressed within the first 1.5 hours. sorry hammy, i've been so depressed lately it probably bothers you as hell. MWAH.

silence and frustration just jumbles itself up deep deep inside and u feel so heavy. your arms and legs and brain slows down and all u know is you are going crazy. everything is nothing and nothng is everything. everything you misunderstand and understand becomes the same.

i think i AM going crazy.

but tonight im ok. i'll dive into the black lines of words laced together by another, kiss my love goodnight, electrionically for now, and dissolve into the dark of unconsciousness and sleep.

its not that early anymore afterall

2005-09-27T15:10:00.000-04:00

about 2 more hours to work.. its quite unhealthy how i count down the hours with dread even if i had 5 hours before i have to wear that hideous shirt and my oversized khakis.. i look like a disgruntled kid drowning in clothing and grumpiness at the store. i shall just pray we dont end at 11 again and that hammy drops by before nine as a good excuse for a break instead of loithering around the mall lookig pathetically sad for 30mins.

lol, oh dont i hate my job. dont take it personally dear sportschek.. i hate every job. anything that exercises my obligation rather than my moods tend to irritate me. predictably of purl, persuading complete strangers(who often think everything is just too darned expensive and should be in a discounted walmart instead) to buy badly mechandized(applies strictly to sportschek) products unfortunately happens to be one big, badly dressed, boring and banal obligation in my book.

-pst, notice the use of words that start with B. lol

its only been about a month and im already threatening my considerably healthy blood pressure to rise. trust me my friends. i would so rather write a 500 word essay than watch time sprint toward 5pm.

well whatever, at least getting through those hours always give me a petty excuse to congragulate myself for being patient, kind and generous with my fake smiles and pretentious enthusiasm to make u spend as much money as possible - the ideal kind of sales person which i am fuly aware i certainly am not. i pat myself on the back and tell myself " hey, although u are already considering the options to escape your current job, you are about to beat your grand goodlife gyms record of 2 months!(they paid me better to be a slacker)". so i guess its a good thing.

besides, that way i dont feel as disgusted with myself for not having time to go to the gym so often. i tell myself at least im doing some form of cardio at work with the constant walking, climbing and carrying of boxes. but damm, im feeling so pudgy. prissy piglety pudgy purl. thats me. havent done regular strength training in so long and i swear i probably cant run up a couple flight of stairs before collapsing on the sides in a flubby heap. i dont care if i can now feel my whole pelvic bone and i dont have to pout to poke heartlessly at my cheekbones with familiar self hatred.. im getting soft :S!! oh good god.

and oh, i forgot, i get crappy pay too. so i guess its all good. maybe after working for 5 months i can go shopping for one day.

oh rats, 1 hr and 20 mins left.(given i take 10 mins to get there)

2005-09-25T20:43:00.000-04:00

the unedited ramblings of purl of tonight

the melancholy i exaggerate.

[i]
The artist's somehow narcissistic gift of self exaggeration, the typical amplification of pain and sorrow, joy, love.
Especially the endless echoes of my constant desolation that haunt me
Such a cliche, how dare I mutter such trivial words, my trivial mind
Of which I struggle for individuality, which is simultaneously being copied into another's.
Cycles of disintegrating dignity, integrity.
Both of us sitting silently by the glowing jukebox, enveloped by our own silence
We weren't holding hands I recall
Surely we aren't the same.

How I would allow my own
Alienation, from myself, of course, I still don't know.
Documentation of this internal dialogue, transforming it into something no longer just mine
The ironies of language -
They tell us in school, this education, of the new age phenomenon of the
Constant commodification of my body, my voice, my face, my private thoughts
The words tattooed on my skin, along the temples, along my jaw, etched onto my dry finger tips.
Yet ignored, hidden
We forget how to read. We forget what matters.
Winter is approaching; the leaves fall red like pools of blood at my bare, childish feet
My bleeding heart on my torn, dusty sleeve
Hers, his, theirs.

[ii]
Hatred burns for and within the skin you are in
The repulsive reality of tangible flesh, the glaring obligations to listen to this Absurd artifact of nerve endings.
You are just so tired,
Tired.
Lethargy lulls you into the silent tomb of unconsciousness, the smoldering voidless of everything.

The world and its words. Its pictures and sounds and money that scald and hurt.
You still do not understand how, where, when and why,
These blades that render you voiceless got caught in your throat.
You simply woke up one morning, loneliness and frustration bleeding tears into your lidless eyes, your palms cold and sad.

[iii]
Alas!
It is the exuberance of your love, darling,
that saturates the corners of my mind, my world -
a cliche that finds itself cast aside once so often,
and once more redeemed just the same.

Step in, half stranger, half twin -
so present, yet so elusive -
and hold me.
Allow me to tumble into your strange and familiar embrace,
let me fall as prey.
The hunter hidden in your lips and fingertips.
The wilderness of the heart.

[iv]
Repetition, repetition, repetition.
I love you I love you I love you.
The ecstasy and elation that often confuse or awaken.
I keep finding myself falling through the cracks of my heart
into oceans of valium,
orange balloons,
rain,
laughter,
pain,
flames,
you.
I love you I love you I love you.
But I cant find my voice.

- amidst it all
You feel paralysed,
A squashed bug under a shoe.

2005-09-13T08:48:00.000-04:00

"When you experience the loss of a beloved, you somehow lose more of that person than you even thought possible. I was prepared to lose my tennis doubles partner, my dinner companion, my sexy girl. But I was not prepared for the exodus of all those other, little Margarets, Margarets I had never even bothered to notice: Margaret checking the mail in just socks, Margaret at the kitchen table eating unwashed grapes, Margaret falling asleep with a book across her face, Margaret leaving her galoshes by the door, Margaret writing long letters that she could never bear to send.

The casualties seemed to go on and on. Just when I thought I was done losing her, I would find yet another way to lose her all over again." - Margarettown, Gabrielle Zevin

2005-09-01T12:50:00.000-04:00

havent written a real blog, or anything for that matter, for so long.. as much as i want to, it seems as if i stand in the midst of a cloud of dust. i cannot find the words. nor the energy to string them coherently together. there are so many things i want to talk about. my love, my dispair.. everything. but it just doesnt seem fair.

i seek for inspiration.. searching for and finding beauty in my lover's face, the dry gravel, another's words. yet i cannot separate my own from my churning consciousness. daydreams, reality, hopes find themselves blending into a whirl from which i have yet to pull myself out.

its been so long.

2005-07-20T15:36:00.000-04:00

yes, changed my blog... into ANOTER NARCISSISIC ONE! cut me some slack. i love attention. ahhahaaa sure.

lol its always hilarious when my mom wants to buy somethng and my dad grumbles in that funny way of his. his new gardening hobby is funnier!

mm havent been writing lately.. so i decided to sit in my backyard(a.k.a. tan) and write about not writing hoping to get something out. but uh uh. my pen ran out of ink after the 3rd sentence. hahaha.

excerpt from journal (when it was still snowing 05):
"i think im begining to understand and appreciate shared beliefs. its no longer about just keeping things simple, a way out of committment. before, having my beliefs constantly challenged and attacked,i gradually allowed them to suffer some damage and get pushed back, almost forgotten - i became like them.

When hammad(no, we're not breaking up LOL) suddenly entered my consciousness, bring finally a rush of fresh air, i eneded up getting hurt by guns similar to the ones i used. suddenly, i didnt have someone to fight against, someone's words to oppose or ignore. for a while, in the midst of confusion, i understood their pain.

true, i do get tired of hearing "we'll see how things go.." of course moments arise when i realise i want assurance, a promise, something steady, loyal i can clutch in my fingers...
its funny how while thinking of this, my university education manages to insert its little bit in here: the western society has lost many of its traditional mindsets/values, lifestyles. lovers wander amongst one another, dreamless, hopefull, constantly wanting that one person to fill that lonely gap in the crook of their arms late at night. it is almost strange and immoral to blatantly state that we are recycling one another - after being tossed out, exchanged for another recycled individual. funny how we can never love two people the same way either. different stories, complicated, intercepting emotions, those silvers of stolen, private memories float about above us, around us, in us, trascending us.

also, ideals plague us all, the perfect configuration of a person, expectations, rules, scars - all these dreams so different, yet so alike, converging only to have us behave like travellers, everyone of us, reaching for that hand that would hold ours forever.

but with each day, the likelihood of that decreases. even the words of my love smoulders my faint, pulsing hope i almost shamefully hide. i used to get hurt when he speaks of a future evidently dis-cluding me. but i dont want him to lie either. i would have told him to pretend he wouldnt let this go, the way i can easily gratefully and thankfully confess the same. but i dont want him to lie. my vulnerability shimmers as it sits in his oblivious hands.

maybe its our age, the uncertainty and opportunities that line themselves up so endlessly before us. who knows when things may change. i stare enviously at friends who confidently call their loves their "other halves", "laogong", etc. i always thought it was somewhat vile and pretentious, overtly sappy. but thats not my point. is that false consolation? an illusion of absolute assurance? will i be fooled? will i beleive its real and watch it materialize? the only times i briefly let someone call me that never really gave me all that.

then again, there is that "Dont go for what you need, go for what you want" mentality. is that pure irresponsibility, irrationality, or following the heart and private instincts? what responsibility anyway what instincts?

strangers milling around a large square, a rose in hand, damp with tears and blood, doused in perfume, beer and cocaine. what are we to do? what am i to thnk and feel? how do i express this? who will want ot listen?

"baby you're everything i want and need right now" - why right now? why cant people grow together? since when did life and love become periodized, sorted into coherent phases, with labels slapped onto the surface of the glass bottle? does this make it better? simpler?

i cannot claim to be ready for lifelong love.. nor can i say i am not. who is to tell? how would i know? wanting stability and loyalty doesnt mean the person you want it from is willing/ready to give it to you. i am not the type to nudge or push somone into feeling or wanting the same thing i do either. who am i to do so - with only my own personal/private experiences and the other person his own? must i ask for assurance?

i don't want to. neither doi want to settle with knowing i will never find it. and i never want to pretend that i am sure to find it either. as much as i long to take so many things for granted, i dont want ot at the same time. it gives me constant stress, and everyday i almost feel that tangible struggle to maintain everything i am supposed to be, but how else will i learn to value someone?
.
.
.
i always entertained that fairytale that one day i will be loved for everythig i am, hat one day someone will fall to my feet and worship me th way i would fall to his. and now that i found someone getting closer to that, my fear of losing even just one speck huants me.

i always thought being emotional is a sign of weakness, tears only for the confines of your own impenetratable space.. and admitting i am weak doesnt give me closure the way they say being honest to oneself should. rather, it frustrates me that i am nothing like what i want to be. not a perfect person, obviously, but a real, beautifully flawed and raw individual without the hopeless constant hemoraghing core and loneliness that now permanenetly resides in my chest, my lungs, my feet. on good days, with my baby's help i am able to ignore it.
.
.
.
..........

haha, stupid weak and hopeless pearle. who would have thought a person can be this insecure.... even after censorship of some paragraphs. this made me think though.. about then.. and now. ofcourse. now its diffferent. this was written way back.

and yarr... i actualy write like that in my own journal. lols. what a loser

been 4 months and my hairs still soo curly!! even though it prolly grew an inch or more after i permed it! wow. hahaa.. maybe i have curly/wavy hair naturally and the perm jsut gave it a real form... instead of me tryig to comb it neat every day when it was wavy and puffy last time. yay!! i like curly hair! not ron type obviously. but nice curls! heheee *mwah* for bummmm

been so lazy. i need to get fit!! bleargh! hahaa... a hard body is so nice to have and i hate my legs!! argh!! *snores and stuffs cake into mouth* hahaaa... dododooo.. feel like going to the library. that thick book is impossible to read. simply because its farrrrr too thick and it weighs more than a kilogram im suree... holding it will give my biceps definition.. but only 1004 pages. hmm. these people should make such books paperbacks with lighter pages. then i will read.. lols.

ok ima goo! then come home find the ts-elliot poems and off to school i go~

2005-07-09T16:28:00.000-04:00

why does my heart feel so sad - moby

...............

Strangely this morning my thoughts drifted to Daryl, prompted by the memory of us at age 14, running across hougang swimming complex wooping, not one bit body conscious, soaking up rays and the chlorinated water. Our brother-sisterly relationship was more or less like mine with Patrick. Back in highschool he called me babe(stil does), people who didn't know us lumped us together, pictures we took together at prom were ridiculous but looked more fitting than those I took with my date. we (still)share the cynical yet hopeful and hopelessly romantic view of life and love, and the enjoyment of midnight club hopping, if not for the wandering amongst unfamiliar bodies with the flashing neon lights and thumping music.. only I hand out my free drinks coupons while he chugs beer with the other guys. we proclaimed each other similarly charismatic and special while graduating from holy innocents, then hardly ever saw each other again, except for that one day he was the first to slip that silvery necklace around my neck, give me a hug and tell me to take good care minutes before I stepped onto the plane which, with the tears pouring from my eyes, would change my life forever.

I don't know why I thought of him. he didnt play a big role in my life, not even the slightest crush happened. We were strictly platonic.. and for the past 3 years, the only times we met were completely accidental. I don’t even miss him that much, I am not even sure what friend status to give him.. yet that one memory persists.. 2 boys(ron was there too) and 1 girl, hovering near the peak of full blown adolescence, so simple, so confused, our awkward voices rising clear and strong toward the blazing Singaporean sun.

Then there was bengimin lam ke wei. My first friend and neighbor in charlton. The strange skinny darkskinned boy who taught me how to swing from one monkey bar to another with no effort.. and taught me how to swear. and who shared scraped knees and obnoxious bruises from recklessly jumping on miniature skateboards, whacking each other with wooden sticks when we play fight and while performing ridiculous stunts on his painful looking porch, where I hung out for most of 1996. and the funniest thing was, we had to tell people we were cousins to ward off fishy suspicions.

Then we drifted apart toward the end of primary school, as I leaned toward my books and slightly more passive and subdued friends like Patrick, cedric, kenny and thh. We still met up for soccer once in a while, still yelled at each other from our own houses, held up that slowly fading friendship until secondary 3, where I finally joined the pompous studious snobs "up there" while he drifted to the normal-technical stream.. had to be sent to behavioral school.. got fixed up and became some wushu bigshot and despite STILL being in the same secondary school, our lives twisted and grew in different directions, and then our friendship finally broke down when he moved away. No more looking out the window half expecting him to wave. I finally got him on my buddys list on msn a year ago.. but that was also the last time we spoke in so many years.. albeit electronically. I wonder how he is doing.

And his best friend, Justin. The one who would wear socks abd sprinkle talcum powder on smooth flooring to slide around to the song Mr. Bombastic, made popular by that levis commercial on tv. the three of us we so close during primary school. And I would partake in every boyish activity they had. Climbing trees, water guns. The most amusing thing about Justin is that.. two years after we lost touch, he came to be the character in my idiotic smoker boyfriend story I would tell to others for a laugh. Despite all the rehabilitation, conversion to Christianity and juvenile arrests, he didn't change. There was one redeeming thing though, he would call at 3am in the morning while he was out fishing, and sing to me while I nodded off. How cute. Im curious if ben still has those infamous sleepovers at justin's mansion. I would suspect so. They were wonderful friends. I was the reject, the goody two-shoes who did her homework and picked up a different lifestyle, somewhat more complex than the one I had at 12.. all I can do now is smile.. for them.

Karen. How can I ever forget Karen.. the eccentric little girl who saw herself as more mature than everyone else around us.. but she was my best best buddy in Charlton. I do not really know what to speak of her, except for my constant incredulity of her reluctance to come run around in the park with us or simply go out.. and insistence of staying in her dark pinkish home all day. But I remember admiring her closeness to her two sisters, tracing pictures cut out from magazines along their shared dresser sitting in an apartment in bedok. She was one to talk behind a person’s back. Prone to gossip and silent anger and jealousy. I heard from someone else she vowed to cut off ties with everyone in Charlton once the PSLE results were in.. which she successfully did. I was not too tramuatised. A lot of politics arose at that time amongst us all at that time.. and I still had thh and other buddies.I wonder how she is doing also.

My oldest friend ever possible. The guy I known since I was 4. Lam hongye. our families were friends, despite different schools and living in different areas.. we remained close all the way till secondary 2. for some reason my entire life took a sharp turn when at the age of 15(secondary 3). there is no way I can forget the Saturdays he spent over at my house, lugging that huge bag of plastic swords and toys behind him. we basically grew up together.. even early pictures with my family had him in it... I temporarily became his parent's daughter(he was the only child).. they took us everywhere, lavished us with unreasonably huge sums of money at amusement parks or arcades. Even as we grew older when we went out while we were still drifting apart, his parents pressed money into his hands, telling him to dress smart and take me out to a nice dinner.

For some reason we just do not talk anymore. Although I am absolutely sure I am not forgotten, having received a little puny msg informing me he now has a gf and is now in the army. But everything else, I don’t know. Funny eh, relationships between people. One minute we were pelting water bombs at each other, mouths wide with laughter, combining our pocket money to buy a bubble gun. The next, over thousands of miles and 3 years after quietly slipping that little bracelet with our two names engraved on both sides into my hands as a goodbye at the airport, we only probably pop up in each other’s minds once in a while when we get nostalgic. Then again, I am probably just more sentimental than he is.

These are not the only friends I had that somehow impacted my life and then disappeared of course. These are the ones who just happen to wander into my mind as I was typing this.
At the same time, im looking at my own life right now, suppressing the anger, sorrow, joy and frustration rising up all at once. Its not nostaligia.. I just miss the friends that have NOT disappeared. I miss how easy it used to be to spend my days, without planning. Days I truly appreciated the rare times I sat alone in my balcony-turned-into-room, reading at my good old huge ass table. I should ask my parents if it is still there in the house.

Sometimes I ask myself why should I feel this lonely. why i have to punch myself to stop feeling so shitty. I have everything I need for now almost. Like what Ronald said : a happy family, pretty well off, big boobs i dont want(lol), an amazing bf who occasionally feels intangible, relatively good social skills, not many friends but receiving life changing education and a car. My life IS supposed to be almost complete.. I should stop picking battles with myself. Bored is good, they say. Bored is safe.

Hadn't I always wanted safe? when then am i taking deep breaths to stop myself from picking this keyboard up and smashing it against the monitor and table?

2005-07-06T09:57:00.000-04:00

Desiring Only - P.K. Page

Desiring only the lean sides of the stomach
sagging towards each other, unupholstered...
pass me nothing of love done up in chocolates
or the fat first fruits of the tree
you planted from seed.

Desiring only the bone on the Mount of Venus
and the death rattle caught in the musical powder box...
pass me no hand, then, as offertory,
no, nor sound of your voice.
Keep silent and do not touch me.
Even the air on my face is an effrontery.

Desiring only the bare soles of the feet
pacing triumphantly the ultimate basement...
pass me no thick-carpeted personal contact,
nor little slippers of pity and understanding.

Waking - such goreous imagery

I lie in the long parenthesis of arms
dreaming of love
and the crying cities of Europe

wake to the bird a whistler in my room
and sun a secret.

Light on the bed of air
and buoyed by morning
and easy bugle of breath
projects an echo

while over the difficult room
the brimming wndow
opens the bandaged eyes
to the shape of Asia.

Invalid, I -
and crippled by sleep's illness,
drowned in the milk of sheets
and silk of dreams,
I rise and write the rising curve of day
with mercury of the smashed thermometer
and trouble the silent mirror, who have been
pale in suspension on the oval bed.

2005-07-04T11:00:00.000-04:00

u know what pisses me off. when people put a gender lid on everything. like do you really think you are THAT special? bah. thinking men or women independently created the rise of poor sad bachelors, bisexuals, homosexuals, depression, blah blah. lame ass theories. blah blah, we poor sad girls.. men can't be trusted.. they dont understand us.. blah blah, hey fellow sob brothers.. women are too complicated... they can't be trusted. boohoo. SHUT UP. we're just people for god's sake. lay off the stupid superficiality and stop complaining. screw you all. men and women both like fuking each other up. dont sit on your ass and wail collectively about how the opposite sex ruined your life. everyone messes up.

i spent my entire life fighting against stereotypes and now im just tired. i used to argue that pms is no reason to be bitchy.. girl politics are stupid.. the fact that boys should do the dirty work is bullcrap.. that girls must not be too fat. too pumped.. that guys cannot hit a girl.. blah blah blah. i used to believe in mind over body. its so bloody annoying. shut up girl, who gives a crap about your cramps. grin and bear it. guys you want to be macho.. than ACTUALLY BE MACHO. dont FAKE it. its such a lousy flaw. FLAWS. its all about hiding flaws. go ahead get jealous.. just dont BITCH about it.

i bitch about everyone. everyone else bitches about everyone. a cycle of irritating bitching. why is it so bloody hard to find a friend? why must everyone be so pretentious? stop staring at my chest asshole. look at me in the face and talk. and stupid woman stop giving me dirty looks and TALK.

the thing is.. i cant believe i cultivated the same kind of jealousy girls share all around. i cant believe i let myself learn that. how lovely to be oblivious those years back.. when i didnt give a toss about competition. what the hell are we all competing for anyways? attention?! is that it? competition for attention? whats wrong with people these days. the existence of the stupid celebrity world is just pepetuating the harm done to people more than anything else. i cant believe i let myself fall into this pit. like wtf.. say my best friend wears the exact same thing.. or at least not far off(girls like to make sure this happens).. and they get smug like a bloody monkey that you look beter than her. WHAT IS THIS?!

im full of contradictions. i believe in laying out all your cards.. flaws and all.. and at the same time.. tucking the smudged cards under the table. man, i dont know. i hate pretentiousness.. and at the same time.. im one of the most disgsutingly pretentious people when i meet people i dont like or dont understand. vile hypocrisy.

ergh. whatever.

tihnk im gonna go to york early today.. stick my head in the books and get my essay out of the way. hammy i wanna go shopping :(

2005-07-02T10:59:00.000-04:00

You And Me Song - The Wannadies ... happy sweet song to start the day!

Always will we find
I tried to make you love
'Til everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

Always will we fight
Kiss you once or twice
And everything's forgotten
I know you hate that

I love your Sunday song
The week's not yet begun
And everything is quiet
And it's always

You and me
Always and forever

Bop bop bop bop bop
It was always
You and me
Always

You tell me I'm a real man
I try to look impressed
Not very convincing
But you know I love it

I know we watch TV
'Til we fall asleep
Not very exciting
But it's you and me

And we'll always
Be together
You and me
Always and forever

2005-07-02T01:55:00.000-04:00

its 2 something and i still can't sleep. must be the latte or something...

this whole ego bash between me and steve got me thinking about some other related things.. the concepts of feminity and masculinity. something i find ironic is that feminist extremists resort to displaying masculine attributes in order to make their point of the irrelevency of gender. its just like saying we need women who are like men while saying we don't need men at the same time. it just... doesnt fit to me.

i grew up being taught to sit, dress, eat, talk, walk like a girl who should be attracted to boys - boys who throw rocks and play with guns instead of dolls. girls to be girly. boys will be boys. pink is for girls. blue's for boys. i can't say, despite my inner struggle to choose between fighting or embracing it, that i am not taken by masulinity. although i dislike the bold, neon lines separating feminity and masculinity sometimes, i cannot escape the fact that this arrangement is still most comfortable with me.

the whole time hammy's watch was sitting on my table, i marvel at the contrast between that one thing and all my other stuff. it sat there, far too big for my wrist, metallic, almost symbolic of everything i am and my attraction to certain things. i tell myself i am a strong, independent female mind.. but when i stare at that watch I picked out for him, some weird indentity problems get triggered. how do i explain to myself why very-much=taller, bigger-sized-than-me-men and wonderfully masculine belt buckles and gorgeous suits and cufflinks and that particular series of BMWs appeal to me so, so greatly? how do i explain the irritation i feel when guys tell me its good to be the girlier person i am now? why do i feel so annoyed with myself for succumbing to useless girlish tendencies? then i wonder, if i was against the whole pretending-to-be-like-men deal, shouldn't i be happy im adapting fine to society? its just weird. i cant explain it. i had moments i wanted to pick it up and do what i used to do with my old rings, have that cool metallic iron taste against my tongue.. and at the same time.. im almost relieved to get it off my table.

clarification : i am not saying i only adore the extreme end of the masculine continunm.. boyishness is absolutely endearing to me too. and many other things in between. all im talking about are the supposedly cold, hard lines of masculinity against the supposedly thin, fragile baby lily stems of feminity... and how i feel standing on one side staring over the fence that is gradually getting more and more crowded.

.......... well i guess readers would have had enough of all that by now.. haha.. and noo of course thats not all i tihnk about. been thinking alot about the crazy past couple years. not crazy coz it was overflowing with fun and excitement... but crazy coz of of the things that changed in my life.. events that occurred.. the heartbreaking loneliness.. the tears i practically drowned in. then i fell in love.

excerpt from diary 7/1/05:
"so much has changed. sometimes i wonder if too much has.

i had never really daydreamed spending my eternity with a particular someone, travelling the globe, fighting battles or laughing with a particular someone beside me perhaps until lately.

i feel so ridiculous somehow saying this aloud. i tihnk of lindsay lohan publically proclaiming to the media her intent on settling down early, waking up to her true love each morning and being adored unconditionally. i think of her giddy smile, radiant cheeks, her head obviously in the clouds. i think of her saying this with that smile on her face and how her true love left her a few months after. so young, they say. so naive and silly, at 18 she was. is it really wrong to feel that way?

i fear saying this aloud. i fear the rejection. the blank stares, vacant eyes. mocking lips, anxious distancing footsteps.

i dare not say this aloud. i think of superstition. of the divine. the logically impossible. the sweetness magically evaporating.

maybe i just fear and need too much."

.....

its 3:15am. sigh, i better try to get to sleep.

2005-06-29T12:58:00.000-04:00

okok i really should go to the gym.. chubby chubby purl.

look at this gorgeous poem:

PAVEMENT
walking

(barefoot)

down city streets
it is possible
to ignore
the chaos
of modernity

and tap
into a time
wen clad feet
were
undiscovered

return
to your lair
and you will find
your feet

blackened

with the grime
of today

after scrubbing
nothing
will remind
(of you epiphany)

but one
black footprint
in you
white tub

Cassandra Drudi

arrrrgggg its so pretty!! its from the U of T poetry thing. how come york has nothing like that?! psh. so much for encouraging and nuturing talent.

omg another one of them random nosebleeds. IM DYING!! ergh. feel like it anyways.

i dont know what i am talking about... hmms hammy still has an hour of work left.. ill go to the gym at 2something or 3... shower and head to school. bloody school.

2005-06-27T17:13:00.000-04:00

was reading another one of them lists where "the ping you felt when you first kissed him" was included as one of the things no one wil ever take away from you.. well i never really understood why the first kiss is so overrated... little kids grow up thinking there will be fireworks in the sky and everything and everyone lives happily ever after. sure, it may be the start of something wonderful and everything.. and the first of anything is usually memorable.. but i always found the intense kiss of a familiar love more powerful. a kiss you share with someone not at the begining, but someone who HAS ALREADY BEEN there, and gave you more reasons that u started with to love him/her.

bah someone with a unfamiliar number called and hung up on me :s

batman begins was really goood!!! was over 2 hours but worth the ass hurting! and i havent watched mrs smith yet. hmms. club monaco has pretty dresses on sale for 79!!! mm. well. i wont get them dont worry. yes hammy, even if its on sale it doesnt mean i have to buy it :). u see.. sometimes i just cant shake off the fact that i am not anyone special really.. and it really doesnt matter what i wear and look like and i cant afford the useless pretty things..and that even desperately willing a mini copper or any car i like to materialize before me to be mine wouldnt ever work.. and thanks to a stupid mirror today i understand why hy used to say i look like a guy from the back. hahaa. meh. see, i still cant come back down to earth. BAH.

mmm i feel sleepy. must be the fan blowing in my face. hmm.. shall sit down quietly and read poetry later. bloody essay comin up. *sobs* i hate essays! moments like these, i must admit.. i wish i stayed on the science path. the dark side is beckoning. hmm.. to think about it.. im proabably one of the rare 4A peoples who became art students.

its funny how i never really talked about my trip back to singapore despite the countless blog entries leading up to it.. i tried.. but u know.. i havent really had words down about the many things that went spining when i went back. things that changed. things that remained the same. people who changed. and people who remained the same. newly forged bonds with people i never thought would be this close to me, reconciliation, old friends who just keep on fading. and people i totally forget and hurt unintentionally. things said. things held in. it was all pretty strange. it was only 2 weeks and a bit.. an everytime i return home.. i anticipate a time i can go back and fit in comfortably with that new understanding of the place i once called home that i had just attained. then again, given the gaps inbetween, i wont be suprised to be suprised. But, like they said i've changed, maybe its just how i chose to see that changed.

u know how there was always an invisible segregation between the different classes and streams back in secondary school(high school).. and its always funny how i stil feel that protectiveness whenever ron kan makes an irritating isolent remark about the people i used to sweat my ass off with in the same room for hours each weekday.. and scenes of violence would play themselves in my head.. then again.. it might just be me finding almost everything he says and does excruciatingly annoying. HOWEVER, people still group each other that way.... " na ge 4B de" or "that normal one".... right?! its weird. damm hierarchical (how do u say it?!) education system. we will probably be 40 and balding and saying that same damm thing during reunions. but i guess it gives us an easier way to remember people we dont want to/bother to/simply just don't remember.

sentiment may be for fools.. but this fool cant help it. i get emotional when i look at my old stuff. sighs. :)

WOW MAKEUP DOES MAGIC!! i just saw this picture of this girl i dont rememeber the name off who was actually quite erm.. plain.. and she looks so gorgeous!! the clear skin, darkened eyes and dyed hair and everything. wows. how come i doesnt do magic to me:(

well i should get changed to go to school.. and find way to hide them bloody zits.

2005-06-25T22:19:00.000-04:00

/i lie in bed and listen to
offbeat thump of my heart to
tick - ing of the clock to
creak - ing stairway
hushed voices.
- contained within the distant high pitched scream of silence
emitting from amber and emerald walls.

yellow, they say, is for luck.

green, for the numb - ness that is
s l i d i n g
deep
in
side
of
m
e
.

/eleven.
the ring - ing of the tel e p hone
jolts me from my reverie -
his voice murmers empty words of adoration over the layers of static -
but his
hand i can - not touch.
the cold from the icecube he passes to hot lips for-got-ten.
noiseless tears do not betray
this helpless desperation. urgency. rush. wave. surge.
pain.
- i do not add to the silence anymore.

/isolated.
alone.
nothing.
invisible.
i.
am.
again.
life, they say, becomes an empty big hole.

why, thy love, delicate and sweet, torment me so?

- p u r l -

..........

well its not totally autobiographical..

i think i sorta know why i like garden state that much.. its not an amazing movie with any wonderful effects or anything.. but esp the ending the character natalie portman plays reminds me of myself. i can understand her pleas and that urgency. well i dont know. sigh, i dont know anything.

2005-06-24T10:01:00.000-04:00

"Now, watching the moth, maybe it isn't just a matter of faith. Or of hope, or even guesswork. Maybe it's just that certain moths decide to smash themselves to death. Who knows why? Or maybe what’s going on is that the moths dont understand shades of resemblance. To them, if a thing looks enough like another thing, it is the other thing. All lights are the moon. The moth is all over moths and all other moths are the moth. There is one human, and he is everywhere.
There is one human, and he is nowhere." - Barbara Gowdy

........ for the sake of boredom... beckett reminds me of quite extreme alternatives i know i shouldnt do.. hence this lousy piece of a survey

*_YOU_*
1.What Time is it now? 10:06
2.What is your name? eaf;iehdnv
3.Single or taken? taken
4.What does your name mean? i have no bloody idea
5.Who picked out your name? my mom
6.What's your nickname? purl
7.How old are you? 18 going on 81
8.What colour are your eyes? purple
10.What size are your shoes? 6
12.Tall (or short)? short
13.Honestly what do you like about yourself? your mom likes me
14.my talents: getting into a filthy mood within 2 seconds
15.What is your worst quality? sloppiness
16.Phone Number? 416-NEED-A-LIFE
18.Hair colour? yellow
19.Do you wear contacts? they keep me sane.. occasionally
20.Who do you live with? my aunt jodie and her 58 cats
21.Favourite Drink? nestquik choclate thingamagig, milk tea, water, turpentine
23.Favourite month? dont have one. but warmer weather preferred
24.Favourite Food? i eat everything. but i binge when no one's watching
25.Favourite board Game? scrabble. be mortified. be very mortified.
26.Favourite Web Site? howtoblowyourbrainout.com
27.Favorite clothing Brand? anything YOU cant afford.
28.Favourite day of the Year? bah, i dont know
29.Favourite colour? the colour you get when i poke your eyes out
30.Favourite Animal? my aunt's 58 cats
31.Do you have more girl or guy friends? girls give me dirty looks and boys dont give a shit. i dont know.
33.Are your parents together? yes
34.How often do you get together with family? almost every day
36.Anythin special about your parents? plenty
37.Siblings and their ages? dawne 16, brother 25
38.You're a flirt? when your mom's around, yeah.
41.You like someone? yup
42.Can you keep secrets? sure
43.Do you dance in front of the mirror? hoping like a retard counts right?
45.You sing in the shower? no
46.You liked Britney Spears? if her abs meant anything yea.
47.You've liked a cousin? er heck no.
48.You've been in the opposite sexes' bathroom? durh
49.You've seriously hurt someone? sure. dont know
50.You've been hurt seriously? in the brain and in my overactive heart yea
51.You swear? not much. unless you ______ want to start some _______ with me.
52.You get your way? not always.
53.You're willing to try new things? yea
54.You've cheated on a test? long ago yeah
55.You've smoked? nopes

*_RGHT NOW_
57.What are you wearing? stuff i just woke up in
58.What colour is your underwear? cobalt
59.What are you listening to? my own typing and the birds outside
60.How are you feeling? dont know. frustrated?
61.What are you doing? this. stupid.
62.What are you eating? nothing
63.How many people are online? no one i want to talk to.
64.The weather? good. im up for another day of frying.
65.What's on your mouse pad? stupid happy words that make me feel like heaving my entire desk out the window.

......... on second thought.. i think i might just go hang myself

2005-06-20T22:39:00.000-04:00

bah, read this list online about the 10 single things a girl should own. so shockingly stupid.. it actually suggests that a girl should own books and music just to IMPRESS the man. *rolls eyes out of sockets* it can kiss my girly ass... i listen to what i want and read what i want to read.. sure i might adapt and evolve accordingly to someone i choose to belong with and compliment... but pSH. i aint buying nothing to put on my shelf as a lie for such a ridiculous and disempowering reason. PISH TOSH! i hate it when girls go all out and do ludicrious things to impress men.. they are supposed to fall at your feet for YOU being YOU! bah, wear those green hooker heels(speaking for myself) and boob job(err.. i quite like the reverse so im referring to general image-obsessed public) and books and sappy genuwine cd(damm right im speaking for myself) for yourself.

got truly madly deeply stuck in my head.. *whistles*

"i was a very happy man when you all were little kids" - daddy, when looking through stack of baby photos sitting on my table. lols... until the little kids grew from adorable critters to awkward weirdos.

sigh, back to shedule fixing... got an essay due on thursday.. *snore*

2005-06-19T22:31:00.000-04:00

You and I,
this sweet battleground

i am uncareful.

i am undone. tangled amongst the glowing runes on the wall.

i do things i would never do.

the perfect version of him in me only surges more recklessly each day with

the tremor of my palpitating heart.

the cold has returned. eyes downcast. its me and my marguerite once again.

fly, the time that races with fervent, frantic kisses from plump-red lips to which your fingers

fly to.

fly you, under the warmth of skin of mine - the stumble toward ecstasy.

bare hands

bare feet

bare -

you are colours absitine, amber and red.

you are my life, my breath, my companion to my body, guest in my heart.

you are the fire in my hair.

-p u r l-

deliberate allusions and plagarising.. from myself!! and of course one or two things i have read. im an amateur afterall. i could go on but i tihnk readers would have the creeps that im some obsessive crazy love sick woman... which is bad :) sigh, i love my revamped blogskin, yorkdale and hammy and the unbelievably sexy ferrari he showed me. (lol of course i would need more water if YOu were in that car)

gotta hit the gym tomorrow!!!!gotta get a nice back and arms ready to wear that black top without anything over it and toned legs for my mini!! and yes, of course, that toned tummy for low pants my dad freaks out over whenever i wear em. then im gonna get a haircute/newstyle/trim when the curls flatten out! and revive that nice glowy tan i WAS abt to get and is now slowly losing all the progress with the return of the cold weather on a day before summer officially starts. haha little silly motivations that somehow make me happy in my ultimately pointless life. but i really wonder if anyone really gives a poop. f it. im gonna hand my resume in to starbucks.

tsk tsk, women and the random moodswing.

i found another role model... salma hayek!! shes another popular icon who is not dropdead gorgeous.. but shes such an empowered humanitarian and glamorous with a personality that screams out "i am all woman, take me as i am"!! ahhaa.. models and gorgeous and stylish people can make me go green and purple in the face with jealousy but she is so inspiring. angelina still sits on my altar though. :)

i hope i dont get any bad dreams again tonight.. last nights was quite horrifying i must say. *shudders* i actually woke up feeling UNrested and scared.

hmmmms shall also work on my essay tomorrow.. and then PERHAPS start cutting my fabric for the curtains in the room or start sewing or something. WHATEVER.

2005-06-17T22:49:00.000-04:00

"What is he suggesting if it isn’t that attachment interferes with fulfillment?
I think of the emptiness of outer space, and men in their little pods going up there alone, wives and girlfriends left behind. I think of Abel and me lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and how great that was, but, still, I was always waiting for him to turn his head. To look at me." - The Romantic, Barbara Gowdy.

i am not exactly a fan of love stories.. but Gowdy got me right there. *points to temporarily broken heart*

is she even aware the personas she had created might have reached out to more than she intended? maybe she's right. maybe she hadn't been exaggerating. maybe Isabel Allende isnt either. maybe it is the ego that saves many of us. me, im still teetering on the edge.

its always strange when i stare at pictures of myself when i was a little toddler and find myself unable to connect with that laughing girl with glowy eyes and her two front teeth missing. but when i look closely.. i ache to feel the soft gums in the gap of the two missing teeth, the stiff wool of the ratty stuffed doggy and the rustle of the low quality wet marketplace plastic bag in her tiny hands.
i must have been there. somehow.

everyday you seem a little farther.

2005-06-16T11:06:00.000-04:00

due to ronald's contagious/infectious depression about the superficiality of modern mankind/womenkind in the world of celebrity posters and senseless television shows... i am here to express my pent up frustration shared by similarly retarded girls such as i. oprah did it.. many other stupid teenage books have done it.. and here i am again to do it.. simply coz lookig in the mirror and then remembering retarded things and feeling the typical 2005 society's pressure SUCKS ASS everyday.

i still don understand why i even bother TRYING to look good everyday. i mean comon.. no matter what i buy, what i wear.. what i use.. im just gonna be NORMAL. whos gonna notice and give a shit anyways. its like yay i got a new shirt.. SO?? effin idiot.. i look fine. FINE. not like anything i do would make any diference. whats the point of feeling ugly .. no ones gonna notice! even if i feel gorgeous.. IM NOT! pathetic eh. who cares about inner depth anymore. just like howard who got let down... just bring out the bling bling and gorgeous ladies.. everyne else can stay at home, turn on the tele, dig in into the tub of icecream and watch.

ok, so growing up in this age is more hard on the tweens. guys think the only way to be attractive is to be muscled, behaving like little peabrains and have enoough cash to pass around... which actually works.. coz girls flock to these people.. and girls can only hope to attract as much attention as they like by being gorgeous and behaving accordingly. and besides.. face it people.. u might tell yourself people resort to artificial means to make themselves look like that.. but usually they dont. just face it. you are simply not good enough like tha tlike them. yes, naturally.

im not saying i crave the attention or anything.. it just pisses me off. like wtf. why ddont i just tear up my entire wardrobe and give up hopes that i will ever reach my "ideal".. which is obviously, inevitably and in the most pathetic manner, shaped by the media. im frustrated at how much i give a poop about APPEARANCE. i dont want to care how i look in those bloody shoes.. i dont want to worry my legs look exactly like hideous unattractive pig trotters and that pink makes me look like little miss muppet coz im pudgy and short and yellowish.. i dont wnat to sigh at the broadness of my shoulders.. my disgustinly fleshy arms.. the worry of disappearing obliques with the appearance of love handles and ugly not-so-girlyish-feet and my loathesome boobs that get in the way.. its like whats the point of normal lookig women purchasig gorgeous lingerie only to realise that unlike the marketting they look CRAP in it.. and then wonder why you give a shit when you stare at your bf/gf/wife/husband/lover/whatever stare and drool at and fervently defend someone on tv.. your self-esteem then plummets and expectations increase.. when will you ever be good enough for yourself anyways? whats the point of me even getting pissed off sitting here with my stupid blotchy skin and my aching flabby back hunched over my superficially dysfunctional legs.. and i cant beleive i like wearing heels!!! and then complain when i STILL look like shit. WHAT HAS BECOME OF ME!!? AND I GET JEALOUS OF GIRLS ON POSTERS AND EPOPLE I DONT EVEN KNOW!!! so much for not succumbing to stereotypes.. even extremist feminists who actuualy WANT TO FEEL LOVED out there probably struggle with this everyday when they look at their empty calander and boring sensible shoes. then again.. its probably a humankind tradition... ERGH.

stupid shallow women. stupid shallow men. stupid segregation. stupid world. stupid permeable, easily affected, weak, lousy, materialistic, hypocritical me.

2005-06-13T22:34:00.000-04:00

there is just something about waking up to an empty, silent house. It fills me with a sense of purposeless purpose and a continuous stream of words that i would fumble with and often drop and forget. The world expands and envelopes me in a comforting silent void that nurses my little slightly cracked lonely core.

i then take a shower, brush my teeth. the typical daily rituals one performs upon a night's slumber, restful and restless likewise. a ritual to officially begin the day with. out of desperation to fill the empty day that lay before me after i finsihed another breath taking novel and letting it sink in, i brought the pants and books i meant to return to H&m and the library respectively.

walking in the mall, i catch my reflection off gleaming surfaces.. my shoulders tensed as always, the quick solemn stride i adopt when im out alone. Who can love me? i still wonder sometimes, staring at myself. these ungainly fleshy limbs attached to its flawed counterparts- the torso, the head, the shoulders - along with all their cumbersome obtuse components i abhor with an unhealthy obession. i know my body does everything for me - i smell, i touch, i hear, i taste - it takes me places, bares me to pain, pleasure, distractions. i ought to love it, yes, i really should. posters and books and tv shows have women shaking their perfectly coiffed hair and manicured nails in the air demanding to be appreciated for everything they are.. inside and out. but sometimes i think they forget, being caught in the small little screen, frozen in time, judged by their shallow words, breathy voices, glowing skin... they are already perfect. they dont have body parts getting in their way, holding them down.. it is exactly the superficiality that is keeping them up and admired... i always wanted to be waif-like, without the repulsive softness surrounding my bones, not so i can strut down runways.. no, im a romantic.. i want to slip into shadows when i want to, be loved like an oread, be subdued and crushed by a lover's embrace.

im a fraud. im all fake, an imposter. constantly i harbour the fear of being caught, of being found out that i am not everyone thinks i am. i'm merely a walking persona.. its pearle who is wearing that skirt, shes the one who is obesessed about fashion and powerful women who inspire her, shes the one writing that essay, buying that dior lipgloss, weaving blogs i somestimes cant identify as mine/hers, shes the one indulging in chocolate, giggling, laughing with that careless abandon - but not me. what if someone finds out im all pretense. i cant possibly look like that, talk like that, laugh like that, triumph that way, fail this way. no, i dont want to be part of those contradictions, the confusion, mixed identities- funny, coz me being this way is part of it. how ironic. sometimes i would just like to think its inevitable, uncontrollable - just not me. just not my fault. i know it is.. but please dont tell me?

to escape. run away. avoid. to detach. ignore. pretend. to be blind. deaf. voiceless.

2005-06-09T11:09:00.000-04:00

i read blog entries of people feeling like they are drowing in pools of their own imagination, the whirl pool of pain, the closing up of the heart, the slowing of the feet... with the undercurrent of longing... for a friend perhaps?

this struck me when i read edward's blog, with his need to slow down and shut everything else unfamiliar out. its funny how people move simultaneously to the same currents. breathe, submerge, crash. and take another deep breath. my love, would you hold on to my hand?

another thing that strikes me as funny is how i naturally censor things i put in my poetry and writing. it is my blog yes, but im aware that people do read it and would not like being apalled or grinning a little too smugly at the words i lace together and publish. and of course, i dont think anyone really wants to give themsleves away. not that i scrutinize every word i type...i just, like everyone else, censor it with the "natural" instinct we subconsciously "download" as we grow up... and of course.. i harbour that false hope that one day students would pick out my writing and unpack it merticulously.. to find the hints i tucked carefully in puny gaps, the faintly coloured edges. haha.

was reading "A thousand pieces of Gold" by Ruthanne Lum McCunn about a girl from china who was sold to bandits and then to a brothel and ended up marrying a white guy in the 1880s. it wasnt that well written.. but easy to read.. and for some reason.. i just thought of how,, during the 20th century.. when globalization started going insane, how chinese ladies(actually.. AUNTIES) smugly tell the younger generation that the "superior" white men like asian girls because we are mild-er, dainty-er, exotic-er and sweeter than the "aggressive" white women. it was almost as if i, 5 years old, in my frilly little cinderella dress, was supposed to be proud of this evolution of stereotypes. and while this is going on.. friends of my own *ahem* stare with their mouths hanging open at blondes in a bikini. LOLs. sorry.. or course i am just generalizing and there are so many facets of this issue(not just white peoples of course) that annoy me and although i want to, i shant go on.. coz these things make me roll my eyes out of their sockets :) lols, times like this, i am tempted to join the dark side- my brother's view. lols

anyhoos.. i gotta go textile shopping with my mommy. tons and tons of fun! btw hammy i miss you~

2005-06-01T01:06:00.000-04:00

oh i heart you so

2005-05-27T09:23:00.000-04:00

"It would be Lewis calling at three in the morning to say, "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i never meant to hurt you." As if that made everything all right. As if not meaning to hurt someone must lessen the depth of the pain you had so unwittingly inflicted upon them. As if hurting someone when you hadn't meant to was not a criminal act after all. As if the aftermath ofpain was merely an incidental byproduct, like the unidentifiable remains they stuff wieners in." - Diane Schoemperlen, Language of love. what a cheesy name eh...doesnt do justice to the content/quality of the book. it echoes alot of my fleeting daily private thoughts..

arrrr... dont know why i am so tired this todayyy... fell asleep just a while ago after dropping hammy off and i can hardly bear to move around now... *lazy assed* lol i didnt even want to go to the gym with my brotherr... my triceps hurt.. thought they looked very flabby yesterday and went crazy with the tricep machine. hey its true eh...exercise ehances boobs~ sigh, that sucks fer moi... coz i think muscular backs are sexy. they say short skirts are for short people.. how come i think i look unbelivable unattractive and fat-legged in them? i can always trust my legs and boobs to kill my mood everytime i see em in outfits i happily put together. good ol' trusty body parts.

omg i hate the way my room looks now. ARGGGGG!! it really needs a makeover. i esp hate that collage of pictures hanging above my bed. I NEED NEW PICTURES! mmm MUST TAKE MORE.

said i wanted to read at least 80 books this summer (20 books a mth).. lol. but i probably only read 5(give and take 1) so far and a stack of books of magic comics. not goood. gotta pick things up a little... hopefully will read like 50.. and get started on my essay too.its due in 6 days! *shrieks* and i still dont know if i want to do JOhn Donne or shakespeare or wyatt!! nooOOOOO!!

mmm.. im tired and my rooms messy and i need a new job. *snore* (#*$_)$(# gotta call golf town.ARGH. *slits throat*

mmm gotta get rid of my textbooks... and i would already get about 60 bucks from the school bookstore for some of them.. and the novels.. shall go downtown and hunt for used bookstores to sell them to for a couple dollars each while walking around. fun fun.

i always fantasized(and still do occasionally) about the romantic notion of being a stunningly beautiful and mysterious young artist (not artitse.. whatever u spell it).. usually up in my studio apartment working, living on a lover's caress and kisses and graham crackers soaked in canned soup whenever i remember to eat.. sipping wine and laughing at parties, exhibitions, seminars swarming with fellow passionate art victims, in that only little black expensive dress i own with exotic earrings i found in some dingy store at the corner of the street, before returning home to paint maps of the bluish veins running along his hands,hips, feet, the expanse of his sweet eyes. but then again.. no one would tell you about the poetry(or lack of)of the leaking roof, unpaid bills piling up on that ratty coffee table you found at some junk yard sale, the cost of soap strands of your dark hair would find itself tangled in, your lover's tantrums, the broken furnace.. and the cold nights your finished work would sit in a dark room, untouched. unappreciated. unsold.

and here i am, spinning an old fantasy from my imagination onto a keyboard in the middle of a warm afternoon after staring at MY unused little black dress hanging at the back of the closet i just tidied... im a crappy university stupid with no artistic talents whatsoever, unwilling to admit that i will never want to lose the luxury of the level of comfort my daddy has given me... with an unattractive allergy to any form of alcohol, however refined. not to mention my lack of that "stunning beauty" and "mystery"(lol).. PLUS, im picky about some minion job at some golf store and i want 5 nice cars in the future.

haha, shut up pearle.

2005-05-22T17:11:00.000-04:00

i hate it when you leave like that -
with everything tumbling to a hush while the
tremor in my body does not cease.
the world harsh on my raw nerves,
exfoiated skin.
this raw heart silently sinks into scorched sand.
until you come back.

-purl-

mmm i want to go to starbucks or timothy's but there are peoples on sunday! :( darns..

Everytime I Close My Eyes - babyface.. *tears* its so dreamy! okok im the type of girl who is slightly ashamed of her music taste.. and im aware of how mushy and disgusting it may be.. BUT ITS MY BLOG AND IM GONNA USE STEREOTYPES AS MY ARGUMENT! haaa

Girl it's been a long, long time comin', yes it has
But I, I know that it's been worth the wait
It feels like springtime in winter
It feels like Christmas in June
It feels like heaven has opened up it's gates for me and you

Every time I close my eyes
I thank the lord that I've got you
And you've got me too
And every time I think of it
I pinch myself cuz I don't believe it's true
That someone like you loves me too

Girl I think that you're truly somethin', yes you are
And you're, you're every bit of a dream come true, yes you are
With you baby, it never rains
And it's no wonder
The sun always shines when I'm near you
It's just blessing that I have found somebody like you

To think of all the nights I've cried myself to sleep
You really oughta know how much you mean to me
It's only right, it's only right
In my life that you be in my life right here with me