four and a half years laid to rest

Tonight, I close this.

I think I've learnt much over these 4 and a half years of restlessness, curiousity, soul-searching and very critiquing reflection. If you would so much as peruse through the first year or two of this blog, you'll bare naked my shameful writing style and abstractly riddled concepts. From being afraid of being known but wanting so much to be in 2005, my technique has changed yet that fact has not by 2009. I've learnt how to tantrum with type rather than on people, yet I have invisible readers who come here only to be burdened by my legible vomits of social guilt and self-despise. I don't plan to bottle these emotions having established writing as my relief from implosion, however, I no longer intend to dwell on them (although I doubt I could be completely apart from it, since I think I've become skilled at hating myself for my embedded narcissism).

I will birth a new page to empty myself onto, but all that later. In the mean time I will spill onto the "little appendix page"- but that one never held a concrete position like this one. Both blogspots will no longer manifest my thoughts or feelings, my instability or motion-sickness. These pages are closing. Thank you. Whoever you are, I always wanted to be read, but I never wanted to be influenced by my readers into producing for them, so I appreciate you being invisible (but I do appreciate you, "ritzy", for being a regular blog-support). This chapter of self-discovery I close and a new one I will open before the new year. I suppose when I'm grown up, I'll come back here (given blogspot does not collapse on me), and remember my insecurities, my joys, a few passions and appreciate growth.

Abba, this is all very uncertain; this something new I give to you.

Goodnight, my loves.
I'll write.

ps: life ain't gonna get any better, you are.

right.

let's scrap this plate and dwell in superficial for a while now.
i fell in love with this $150 adidas multitasking number.

oh and i dont want to write here anymore.

Dear God, I'm gross, look away but don't leave me.

What I can't stand, is how desensitised to counterfeit value and oblivious to genuine love I've become. The instruction to be in the world and not of it has fallen like dry words, resembling autumn's open morgue of dead leaves, for me to crackle under my every hypocritical step. I want so much to be away from here. Where can you find purity in this here perverse and overtly shameful surface we momentarily dwell? My best friends are loosing theirs and the children I love part-time are trading theirs for "something cooler". My desires of late frequent passionless, purposeless, faith-weak 'things'. Love is reflected less and less in the things I do and the little I do express somehow benefits...me. My prayers are inconsistent and mostly confined to the walls of the church. My church is lovely, but attending isn't going to satisfy my spirit. The church cannot drag me into a limp relationship with an Almighty God. Having reflected on the little I do and the much I waste, my disgust of my current position has me rushing headlong into shallow pools of rash quick-fix attempts to "cure" myself, or at least, slow my fast demise into a soulfully ugly. I have to stop watching tv like I do, I have to get over these self-promoting networking sites like facebook. I need to reacquaint myself with the fear of the Lord, because I don't fear him at the moment, not nearly enough to be quaking from my stupidity and half-hearted everything. Why didn't that mission trip change me? Why didn't the testimonies I cried over make me a better person? Why do I find myself at the alter week in, week out having ruined everything I tried to re-establish within 7 days of trying? Why am I here again? Why haven't I changed anyone?

I used to wonder how Israel could have forgotten all the good that God had done for them in years, months, days...but I am no more righteous than they, I am just the same.

But I know the perfect time for change is...

tomorrow.

butter fingers

oh geez, i love this clip, her glove is wicked. his style is admirable...i think



I'm attracted to the high life. Went to a fancy place last night, entered rigid and slightly horrified, exited having made friends with the bartender- a beautifull 23yo who made me my first martini . I loved it. I plan to go again, not to dine, but to sit at the bar, talk with my new friend enjoy the deco, etc, etc, occassion to look good, forget pretences, forget patterns and feel like a night could be worth more than my bank has ever held.

At present, my thoughts elude my commitments. I said I'd think about things, important things and do things, things that resemble responsibility...thus far my words and actions have not equated any of these. I daydream and I wonder what it would be like to be "free" - whatever that means - not confined by either my two digit bank account or my fears...and responsibilities.

Hello God, I've been avoiding you of late...
I need to find you or my limitless and pointless and selfish desires will consume me and I will have wasted much time when you by far surpass these. I'm looking for validation again and I know where to find it, I don't know why it takes me so long to return to you. Seeing my friends' apparently satisfying validation via other means deceives me. I have none but you here, none but you near. Now where's that bible?

ps: i'm not in love.

I think a misconception of regularity, but one of very common sense, is that pattern erodes meaning. On a very separate note, I think my sister's natural beauty is magnified when she's got hair behind one ear and the same shoulder and not behind the other ear with her hair in front of the latter shoulder. Sort of like half back, half forward.

...I think I'm going to learn video editing to launch my 2nd newest hobby, since my newest hobby was learning the ukulele and it appears everyone who previously knew how to play the guitar seems to know how to pick up and play my ukulele, I don't feel too special having learnt one song in 20minutes when kev learnt it in 2. That was too long a sentence, I doubt it made sense.

So no, I'm not in love, I think my particular sense of absence at the time isolated my expression of missing two friends in particular last night, thus appearing infatuated. Catherine Zeta Jones is -insert-selected-word-for-"very-beautiful"-...

I'll be in trouble tomorrow. I rather save the world than do my assignments.
the key to Hillary: eheh

there is no alternative

pass
fight
fall
try
dance
bite
fail
fly

I can't seem to make any of this comprehensive. There is no collateral. I have frustratingly lonely, seemingly insignificant puzzle pieces and the only concept resembling "sense" is the absence of the other pieces. All I know is that I miss you right now and I'll have to get through it without you because that's the only way I'll get to see you later.

You'd never know though, I'd never tell you.

I mean, I just did, but I don't even think you come here.

positioned horribly

seventeen pimples to outlive by saturday, two and a half assignments by monday.
who ever said life was boring?

the convenient friend

i just wondered why I'm interested in the people I'm interested in, and why I'm friends with the friends I'm friends with.

I think, for the most part, it came down to convenience. Beginning transitional stages from acquaintance to friendship were weighed with convenience in most cases.

I also caught myself wondering how comfortable I'd feel with a boyfriend. This was followed by reprimand as my past few days indulged in much wasted time and a boyfriend would only make me feel better about wasting time, which is hardly a challenging relationship. That is my fear, that upon establishing a relationship intended for the remainder of my lifetime, comfort would become a snare, clogging the crevices otherwise intended as friction to challenge each other, iron on iron. Having witnessed my friends find a comfortable rut to settle into with a "nice" companion, with whom all things feel-good accompany, strikes me at grossly pointless.
As is, my time is my responsibility. My emotions and moods and motivations are my responsibility. If I feel like dirt, it is my responsibility to climb out of that hole; if there are frustrations and difficulties, it is mine to flesh out. However, this paves the way to another fear I abhor, that I would become a self-made person, giving rise to pride, excessive defence-mechanisms and lack of trust in other people...not to mention failure.

I can't remember ever having achieved a beautiful balance. It's as elusive as the horizon.

Wahaha, apart from this we're-all-doomed-to-the-thousand-different-ways-of-perishing lament, I've actually got to get off my hypocrisy heavy ass and begin to do work. Today, I'd like to have ticked off 25% of my second last essay, learnt how to tune and play a handful of chords on the ukulele, gone for a walk/jog, written my observations from placement, returned a library book and I wont get too ambitious with my day, not because I don't like ambition but because I don't want to fail today, because there's been too much of it lately.

ps: i hate writing about boyfriends and relationships, but it was at the tip of my fingers and the concept is very bittersweet. I'm the skeptic outside looking in, who hopes to not have to eat her words at a later date.

sometimes i imagine i'm the director

my very very first youtube upload video montage:



This is a bad time to discover a new hobby...