Sunday, November 29, 2009
when a girl
"if my voice could reach back to the past, i'd whisper in your ear, darling i wish you were here"
9. when a girl says she'll go out with you one day, she made a promise, and she'll always keep it no matter what, because she wants you to be happy. she wishes you would do the same as well.
8. when a girl cries she doesn't want to hear you say that you suck and blame it all on yourself or conversely become angry at her. she wants you to have the resilience to sit beside her and hold her hands while listening, because sometimes she really do have something to say, as insignificant as it may be. there is no greater guilt than one that comes out of knowing that she made you sad because of her own stupid and thoughtless demeanors.
7. when a girl finds the courage to say i love you, it scares her to hear "yeah okay" back, knowing that perhaps, yet again, it's unrequited love. and she will eventually get hurt. nothing can ever scare a girl more than getting hurt by the person she loves.
6. when a girl is sad, she doesn't tell her friends what's wrong. they tell her to tell them, and even if she did, she'll try to make it look like it's her fault, not yours because she doesn't want her friends to get mad at you, or you to look at all bad. she wants everyone to continuously see you as the guy she fell in love with, even if it means lying to the people she care most about.
5. when a girl says she isn't lying to you about anything, she really isn't lying to you about anything.
4. when a girl hears you say i love you, she believes it more than anything. call it innocuous, but she doesn't care. there is nothing that could make her more happier, not even finding the perfect pair of pair of louboutins, than hearing you say i love you.
3. when a girl says she's not mad at you, she really isn't mad at you. and when she says that nothing is wrong, she is never lying. when she's quiet on the other end of the line she is often just tired, and it tires her even more, albeit, with sadness to hear you think that she's mad at you. because most of the times, you're the one person she can't get mad at easily, and what she wants to hear in phone calls is laughter and talking, not silence, not when she's tired, not ever.
2. when a girl says i'm sorry, she means it, more than anything. she will continuously apologize to you, even for something which she knows wasn't her fault, though most of the times, it's never anyones fault, even if it makes her cringe and cry at night because it kills her to see you angry and to not be able to hear you smile or laugh at it and say things will be okay.
1. when a girl says i love you, she means it and she always will
i love you most ardently, 8:39 AM.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
where are you
there are instances when i wonder,
what is there to get out of the oblique,
or the unfathomable demeanors of yours.
sometimes i wonder why i still have the resillience to understand and go on.
where are you when i really need you?
there are instances when i wonder,
what is there to get out of the oblique,
or the unfathomable demeanors of yours.
sometimes i wonder why i still have the resillience to understand and go on.
where are you when i really need you?
i love you most ardently, 10:56 PM.
Friday, November 20, 2009
sometimes
sometimes all i want is you to talk to me when i actually need you there.
amidst, mid exams hysteria, never possible, i know.
but five minutes, is often all it takes for me to know that you're still there.
and for once i want you to call me, a short hiatus from nerding, and ask me how i'm doing, even for just a few seconds before going back to studying,
because sometimes all it takes is a few words, a few seconds,
that often makes,
all the difference.
i love you most ardently, 9:44 PM.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
vanilla twilight
has there ever been a song with lyrics so perfect,
an incandescent melody, so subtle and yet, undyingly sweet ?
could there ever be a song that describes the truths of my life more placidly,
than owl city's vanilla twilight.
"the stars lean down to kiss you, and i lie awake and miss you."
"the silence isn't so bad, 'til i look at my hands and feel sad. cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly"
"but drenched in vanilla twilight, i'll sit on the front porch all night, waist-deep in thought because when i think of you i don't feel so alone."
resonating beats, the cacophony of notes, do re mi fa and their likes,
if music be the food of love, play on
i love you most ardently, 4:33 PM.
Monday, November 16, 2009
the many different voices of hysteria
sometimes all i ever wish for is understanding,
from my parents
high expectations puts this inevitable weight on me. i love the idea of studying deep into the night, a joust of coffee never hurts, and seeing mother peek around the corner to remind me to always sleep earlier. i love how mother hugs me after seeing my report cards gets sent home and how father would pat me on the head and say, keep up the good work. i love how mother would let my cry on her shoulders in cases when i do not achieve the score i want, and remind me to always keep trying. however, i often feel this incessant pressure, like a dark cloud hovering over the horizon, smiling subtly, and yet with such inevitable smugness and irony. i see the look of disappointment, although slight and often fleeting, crossing mother's face every time i bring home news of not doing as well, if not, at all well, to her. although she tries to hide it, there are times when emotions are too strong that they replete and sympathy or words of wisdom becomes spurious.
and so, i try so hard to avoid seeing mother's disappointment.
i try so hard to keep father patting on my head.
it is never impossible, but sometimes it is often difficult.
i love learning, i love understanding. i love exposure to vast knowledge and discovering the stories of the world, constructed by figments of imagination belonging the many makers of history. most stories of which still remained untold.
and yet, sometimes too much can simply often be too much, leaving me feeling completely enervated.
right now, i realize that my parents no longer make expectations, i make my own.
and most of the times, the boundaries i set are too far, too impossible, i need mother and father back, to once again draw out the boundaries that are attainable, and to always remind me to
shoot for the moon, even if i miss, i'll land among the stars.
friends
i am coming into this period of time in my life where i realize how naive i have been, for quite some time, about my outlooks on friendship, and how now, loyalty is often imperative. i have found my true friends, and yet they are still changing as the pages of time and what seemingly look like a forever, unfold. sure there are ones who may have stuck it out with me, from beginning to the end, but then there are ones who have remained hidden, superficial, completely changing, in their transient existence, and sometimes i find solace in them, and yet, this solace would often disappear due time, as we would grow apart. it is not of idiosyncratic nature that friendship breaks and people grow apart, it happens every time. however sometimes it confuses me to see how such close friendship, which perhaps once resembled sisters of some sort, could break and become nothing within merely just a day. it shows me just how true some friendships can and cannot be, and how anger often proliferates and propagate hatred, influencing others to do the same. misconceptions and misunderstandings takes over and we are left with a gap growing wider and wider, seperating us into little worlds of confinement, back to where we were, even further, before we ever became friends or acknowledge each other as people.
it is then do we realize the shallowness and superficiality of some friendship,
and the irreplaceable existence of solid and true friends,
i am glad to know who my true friends are.
myself
amidst the inexorable coldness of my room, and the impenetrably dark skies outside, lit up to some extent by the smiling moon, i think about how i know so little of myself, and how most of the times i fail to understand my own demeanors. there is an effect, which the night aggravates on people, if not me, a transient hiatus from the hysteria of mathematics and studying for mid-exams. the inability of me to fathom myself often causes me to do things that i will in the latter regret. sometimes i think that i am the antagonist to my own existence.
and it is scary to think how easily i often fall, and i find it hard, most of the times, to often trust in myself. with some luck, i know that someday i might be able to understand myself, fully and completely, but right now, trying is often what really matters, and i know that despite the first step being always the hardest, we can never get anywhere without taking those first steps.
sometimes all i need is understanding, from a whole variety of people, just a modicum amount of understanding, that i believe can take me a long way.
sometimes all i need is a break, a euphoric hiatus, to think, and enjoy. to find delight, love wholly and completely, embark on adventures galore, and be able to smile without reciting the GINI coefficient of Indonesia, the different functions of proteins, or whatever it is i learnt at school that day
sometimes all i need is fantasy, an escape from reality at least for a while to a world where running in the rain and riding into the sunset are actually tangible imaginations, and where i can weave all my dreams into reality with just a click of the heel.
sometimes all i need is just for you to say i love you, because then, no fantasy could ever surpass the irreplaceable happiness received from feeling loved.
i love you most ardently, 10:56 PM.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
flappers and philosophers
fitzgerald is truly inspirational
the irreplaceable feeling adhere upon one's heart as they uncover the secrets hidden within the bounded pages of a book. secrets of languor, dreaminess, beautiful portrayals of a whole other world, a whole other time, a whole other imagination, a whole other cloud nine. it enchants you, the strong collected women with whimsical dreams, the stoic , zealous men of noble-mien, the way she returns his ardour, the transient adventure, and then the happily ever after. i cannot fathom just how much a book is capable of surrogating reality. this partiality, if it is partiality at all, might just merely be the result of my complete vulnerability to superfluous words and languid imaginations. after all, sometimes fantasy is a whole lot better than reality. it repletes the emptiness within one's soul and fills it with the undying fullness of a chimera, an ideality that consequently resemble possible realities. and truth be told, literature tricks, or rather, our misconceptions tricks us into believing a world where things are either pure rose colored or only solely black and white. and the meanings which we take out are often so powerful, they change our thoughts, our demeanors, acquiescent to the truths of reality. can there ever be a rationale behind the million different meanings, and the infinite understandings derived from just one story?
and sometimes we are maneuvered into thinking that dreams is all that ever matters, when really what are they but products of cravings and desires, mere chemical reactions in our body, triggered by literature itself, that leads us to nowhere, complete nothingness unless there is that element of attempt, the attempt of making dreams come true. and only that, will take us to places.
literature inspires, it transpires and evokes imagination, dreams, a whole other world of wonders and splendors, and a happily ever after. but none of this truly exists, for they are sheer words printed in blank ink on paper that will fade away with the seconds of time. what makes our stories interesting is how we make the dreams sown by literature into our lives come true. a story that transcends all of the conventions and norms of literature. for finally you are able to no longer say,
i love elizabeth bennet
but rather
i am elizabeth bennet
and it is then do you find your happily ever after
i love you most ardently, 1:46 PM.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
i am sick at home with migraines, so here goes.
10. vanilla scented lockers
9. noodles. i just don't understand how some people can ever dislike something as amazing as cold soba.
8. yiruma and the piano
7. downloading apps and nerding behind my mac
6. biology
5. seeing the kids from my orphanage smiling
4. lomo cameras
3. jane austen, literature, writing, and the works
2. everything in pink. big surprise
and the number one thing that makes me happy
1. you :) and you should know that this is you.
sssssssssss
spurring images of perfection
i tried to become something out of the norms of society,
a non conformist,
and yet i have fallen and conform.
what have i become but a mere breech of plastic feelings, the yearning for discernment and understanding.
perfection is spurred,
intangible,
and out of reach.
what have i become but merely a definition of society, it's kowtow,
as opposed to creating my own definitions, meanings,
i am not like every one else, if not, most people,
because when can we ever let dreams and feelings become our master?
the answer to it lies on the fact,
that it is us who often has to pick up the broken pieces or whatever was not broken in the first place,
and be in control of dreams and emotions.
then and only then, can we solely and fully achieve
complete and utter perfection.
i love you most ardently, 10:02 AM.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
strength- part one
the strongest person i know is my grandmother.
it isn't so much about how long she's lived, and, needless to say, the amount of suffering life imposes as the pages of time slowly turns.
grandmother told me about her first love,
and i thought that it would be interesting when she first offered to tell me,
because nothing can ever get better than a love story, coming from an aficionado.
grandmother's love story was different, she fell in love, but couldn't marry the guy she was in love with.
it was something about family, among all other cliche reasons, an obstacle which hindered her from what was truly love.
then she got married, with the man of whom she'd never come to known, not then, not today. he was my grandfather, and when he died, my grandmother knew nothing of the man she spent her life with. she wasn't in love, she was never in love. it was a mere facade, nothing else. she held it all together, with the strands of protection, love, and most of all strength.
her story was the greatest love story of all.
words or literature in itself would never be adequate enough to describe the inexorable strength grandmother had, if not, has. for she still remains the strongest woman i've ever known, the epitomy of all forms of feminism, and the irreplaceable love of a mother, if not, a person. beneath her stolid conducts and impassive demeanors, hides the strength of a million hearts, holding the scars and ruins of life with a mere thread, so strong that it will never break.
right now, im thinking, when was the last time grandmother laugh? truth be told, the answer remains unknown. there are times when grandmother would join our family jamborees, no contibutions in mind, but the power of her listening. there are times when grandmother would make the sporadic satirical comments, but other than that, grandmother never laughed. she just sat there, in a world where silence is always golden, and much preferred the impenetrable darkness, over what has become a beautiful world, because it is in darkness do she feel atmost, safe. she is a connoisseur of darkness, she knows it best, and it is through that is she finally able to find the impossible solace and comfort that comes from the deepest profundity of the dark.
likewise, we all know the reasons behind what she has become. for after what happened, can you really ever find a reason to smile? maybe, you do not need a smile but rather the strength is all that ever counts. it is better to be like grandmother, to have the strength to continue, to not let life make you fall, to fight against the world, us against the world, and win in the end, than to put on a smile made of plastic, some masquerade of the unknown. for smiles do not make strength, it is strength that truly carve real smiles.
there is a stigma in falling, at least to me. i fear falling, i fear sadness, i fear the thought of fighting against the world, knowing that there is always that chance of me losing and then, where would i go? i fear the knowledge of one day not having you there, or a world where i am alone. these nightmares, the spectors of imagination, they haunt my thoughts, encrypting reality, if it is at all possible.
but whenever i fear falling, i look at my grandmother and see a beauty. the amount of strength she has is much more beautiful than anything which life can ever offer. i smile, i laugh, i find joy in seeing a beautiful pair of red heels, in reading mass pages of literature, and taking pictures at sunkissed beaches.
but i realize, the one thing that i've been missing all this time, the one thing grandmother has that surpasses everything i could ever hope for and have is
strength.
the strongest person i know is my grandmother.
it isn't so much about how long she's lived, and, needless to say, the amount of suffering life imposes as the pages of time slowly turns.
grandmother told me about her first love,
and i thought that it would be interesting when she first offered to tell me,
because nothing can ever get better than a love story, coming from an aficionado.
grandmother's love story was different, she fell in love, but couldn't marry the guy she was in love with.
it was something about family, among all other cliche reasons, an obstacle which hindered her from what was truly love.
then she got married, with the man of whom she'd never come to known, not then, not today. he was my grandfather, and when he died, my grandmother knew nothing of the man she spent her life with. she wasn't in love, she was never in love. it was a mere facade, nothing else. she held it all together, with the strands of protection, love, and most of all strength.
her story was the greatest love story of all.
words or literature in itself would never be adequate enough to describe the inexorable strength grandmother had, if not, has. for she still remains the strongest woman i've ever known, the epitomy of all forms of feminism, and the irreplaceable love of a mother, if not, a person. beneath her stolid conducts and impassive demeanors, hides the strength of a million hearts, holding the scars and ruins of life with a mere thread, so strong that it will never break.
right now, im thinking, when was the last time grandmother laugh? truth be told, the answer remains unknown. there are times when grandmother would join our family jamborees, no contibutions in mind, but the power of her listening. there are times when grandmother would make the sporadic satirical comments, but other than that, grandmother never laughed. she just sat there, in a world where silence is always golden, and much preferred the impenetrable darkness, over what has become a beautiful world, because it is in darkness do she feel atmost, safe. she is a connoisseur of darkness, she knows it best, and it is through that is she finally able to find the impossible solace and comfort that comes from the deepest profundity of the dark.
likewise, we all know the reasons behind what she has become. for after what happened, can you really ever find a reason to smile? maybe, you do not need a smile but rather the strength is all that ever counts. it is better to be like grandmother, to have the strength to continue, to not let life make you fall, to fight against the world, us against the world, and win in the end, than to put on a smile made of plastic, some masquerade of the unknown. for smiles do not make strength, it is strength that truly carve real smiles.
there is a stigma in falling, at least to me. i fear falling, i fear sadness, i fear the thought of fighting against the world, knowing that there is always that chance of me losing and then, where would i go? i fear the knowledge of one day not having you there, or a world where i am alone. these nightmares, the spectors of imagination, they haunt my thoughts, encrypting reality, if it is at all possible.
but whenever i fear falling, i look at my grandmother and see a beauty. the amount of strength she has is much more beautiful than anything which life can ever offer. i smile, i laugh, i find joy in seeing a beautiful pair of red heels, in reading mass pages of literature, and taking pictures at sunkissed beaches.
but i realize, the one thing that i've been missing all this time, the one thing grandmother has that surpasses everything i could ever hope for and have is
strength.
i love you most ardently, 8:33 PM.
