Three Down. Two to go.

Am mentally holding my breath until march next year. Here's to praying and hoping for the BEST. AMEN.

Give Me Vodka - I'll Throw You A Lap Dance

Once I learn how to give a lap dance of course. Hahah. Like that'll ever happen :p
And I refer to both activities there - the drinking of the vodka if you were to really give me one (because my religion prohibits me to drink it) and the dancing.

Actually, today's title is inspired by a brief exchange of short messages with my boss. Her partner had recently undergone a hip surgery, and we were talking about how this really nice guy from their hotel had come all the way to visit to the hospital. She had told him (the nice guy) to get her partner dancing girls.

I said I'd give him dancing girls and a lap dance.

She replied, while the idea has its merits and would be much appreciated, it would be too painful for her partner right now.

So I said I'd postpone ordering one until he gets better.

She thought I was offering one.

I laughed - I told her I can't dance to save my life. Honestly. Cross my heart and hope to live :D

I mean, I'm perfectly okay with twirling about listening to indie alternative head-banging, hip-swaying inducing music in my room - with only my sisters to watch and mock me. But tell me to dance in public and I'd splutter in all my incompetence at the art.

This may not be entirely true - I was told once that my dancing wasn't so bad... but I don't know. Dancing's one of those things in life which you gotta do well to do, you know? Well, some (and yourself perhaps) would argue differently.

So yeah, that's probably something I should note to myself as another in my ever growing list of "things to learn and be able to do well before I die".

On Carson Leith

Honestly, I am not supposed to be blogging right now. No. What I'm supposed to do, is work on my essays for application for graduate studies.

But. What one wants and what one is supposed to do are two completely divergent things which do not co-exist on the same plane my friend.

And hence, why I am writing here. (Even though I'm not supposed to)

So. On Carson Leith.

Who is he? The lead vocalist for Brothers At Sea. The band I so have the hots for right now (which make me like such a lameduck because they'd released their EP like in January this year - or so various sources on the world wide web tells me), as you can evidently tell if you've been following my earlier posts.

Carson is inspiring. Truly. He's younger than I am, having only started college in 2008 (making him as old as my second brother). But, the guy is extremely, and uncannily, thoughtful. Beyond his years, I'd say. One only need to read his blog (or ex-blog, since he's moved to tumblr.com at carsonleith.tumblr.com) which is carsonleith.blogspot.com.

Go there. I dare ya. You won't regret it. Seriously. Although, in passing - I do wonder why he moved to tumblr.com from blogspot....

Now, obviously I sound like a psychotic stalker with how I am apparently dedicating this post to him...essentially. So just in case Carson reads this by some unexplainable and misbegotten chance: Carson dude, no, I am NOT stalking you. And before you get any ideas of suing me, I'm one step ahead of you buddy. I would seriously advise against it, because my current occupation just so happens to be lawyering :D

I hate losing cases, so I'll make sure that I'm the one who wins. (blagh, who am I kidding.)

Anyway, back to Carson. Reading his blog, has inspired me in so many different ways. To my delight, apart from sharing my addiction to coffee, Carson shares my love of reading and writers/poets such as Hemingway and Pablo Neruda (see my previous post titled "I do not love you"). I don't know many guys around here like that, so you'll understand why I'm all gaga over finding this out.

He is also, apparently, religious. Granted, we do not share the same faith - in fact, we cannot be more diametrically opposed.

But, that is not to say I don't get what he's saying when he talks of religion. Which brings me to believe, that one need not share the same faith to understand faith itself.

I can go on to our similar tastes in music, but I won't because I'm already freaking myself out enough with this post...so I'm restraining myself and will stop here.

With a side note: in a different universe, in a different time, in a different setting and in the same spot, Carson would be my perfect Garage Band King.

So all I gotta do now is, find one that fits in my current lifetime.

If you see him, contact me do.

***Disclaimer: the photo here does NOT belong to me. I got it off their facebook page and am not using it for profit. Carson's the one in the middle.

Motivation is You

"When I'm looking for a new motivation, I'm looking for you." - Jason Poe.

Could he possible be a descendant of another famous Poe? As in Edgar Allan Poe?? Anyhow, I'm digging his music.

For Being Brave

For being brave...it don't come easy. No it don't.
Bleeding out still I am, seeping out from the blue lines
and these eyes, they are incapable of blinking for more
My laugh lines have caked into stone
I'm sure this is what you're wanting now.

Isn't it?

You tell me, love. You tell me.
Just, for once, pretend no one's there
and only us two here stands
and that the dead grass are green meadows
would that make it any easier
for you to speak?

Being brave, it don't come easy, no.
And my silence works the way pictures do.
I ain't saying anything, but I couldn't have put it better.
Aren't you getting me at all?
If I love you at all, everything should be crystal clear to you.

Oh quit being so brave love. I'll sweeten up some of your hurting, if only you let me.
But those warm times have long disappeared - neither of us are the same persons we used to know.
I'm paying the price of being brave, or keeping pride. Label it how you want.
I want to take the easy way out, this time.
I'm done hurting inside, just as I'm done laughing out non-laughter.
Let's not be so brave now. The price is altogether too high.
For while I am more than halfway there, you have yet to move.
You have yet to move.

And I, I'm done with my falling. Falling over you and over my head.
This has evolved to being entirely overrated, for both our sakes.
Stay brave, love. Will it. Want it. Until it chokes you up, that you can't help move.
Maybe then you'll fall into me.
Maybe then I can brave myself again.

First draft: November 21st, 2010. Revised: November 22nd, 2010. By: Hanna.A.

*this poem..or potential set of lyrics is inspired by Brothers At Sea's "For Being Brave". I would suggest however, that you read the above while listening to "We're Alive" by Brothers At Sea or their "This Time, I Swear I Mean It". It sets the background better methinks. :p

I can't wax lyrical enough about this band. They're soo...talented. Bridgingtheverses.com describes them as The Fray meets Jimmy Eat World. In some ways, I think that's true. But I would say they are more Jimmy Eat World and Brightwood.

***photo disclaimer: the photo ain't mine and I ain't using it for profit. I got it off Brothers At Sea's FB.

The Only One

I guess today is about reminiscing some of my old writings. After the post below, I came across this other poem slash song I wrote last year, on January 26th. To date, I think it's probably the most intense and romantic piece I've ever written...I'm quite proud of this one actually. Especially since I've never actually experienced what I wrote myself...teehee :D

Anyway, it's called "The Only One". Hope anyone reading will find it to their liking too!

"The Only One"

I can still smell you on my skin
and breathe you in on my pillows
I can still feel your heat with my sheets
as I pull them back to keep your warmth

I am reluctant to get up
I want to linger in these messy tangles
Wait for you to walk through the door
It can't come too soon
You can't come too soon

You were so still as I watched you sleep
so unguarded, and so open

Yet I knew the moment that you wake
you'll close off and renew your walls
and I would smile and tease you for it
at the most you'll call out my name
in that way of yours
that's never failed to bring me down
to my knees

And I know you don't see in my eyes
what you were so sure would be there
you don't see in my gaze
what you've convinced yourself to see
when will you ever realize
that I'm not the one
I won't be the one
who shuns you away even when you're hurting the most
and don't just don't want to be alone
I know you don't really want to be alone

So when will you give in, when will you take it for real
that
I am not leaving
You can push me away
and I'll just run back, come after you
because you're the only one
who gets me
you're the only one
who sees me as I am
and you know that I'm
the only one
who sees you this close
the only one who you let see you this close.

Face

Came across this poem/song I wrote about...two years ago. It feels quite...apt at the moment. So I thought I'd share it here.

"Face"

I am two and twenty years of age as of months before
but have I become any wiser
and even if I have would I know?
How would I know
and how can anyone tell

The truth is often always nothing but lies
narrowed down to its barest of forms
that don't we all have, encountered?
one way or another

I need to get to the bottom
of this mess, oh all this mess
haven't done me any favors
save to confuse and frustrate
the hell out of my being
I don't want this to turn into
another of those things we could just
throw away and forget

I've never known silence to be this still
the lack of voices is damning
is coldly haunting
If rain were to fall on my head, as of right now
would I feel
it drop?
would I feel
its pressure?
and would I feel myself getting wet
because
I haven't been breathing for the longest time

The air that passes through my lungs exist
only so that I don't decay
and the impact of the bright sun
I haven't felt
It's never been warm or light in here
for ages and I
haven't been what you call alive
for sometime now
so I'll think it's wise to sleep some more
slip into these dreams where I
can at least escape from all the
bitter and the unknown
I don't want to face
No I don't ever want to face.

Teenage Dream

I am utterly hooked. And madly in love. With Katy Perry's single "Teenage Dream". Finding him is so on my to-do list. hahah.

I claim no credit for the song nor the title. It just fucking rocks though. The lyrics then:

You think I'm pretty
Without any make-up on
You think I'm funny
When I tell the puch line wrong
I know you get me
So I'll let my walls come down, down

Before you met me
I was a wreck
But things were kinda heavy
You brought me to life
Now every February
You'll be my valentine, valentine

Let's go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love
We can dance until we die
You and I
We'll be young forever

You make me
Feel like
I'm living a Teenage Dream
The way you turn me on
I can't sleep
Let's runaway
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

My heart stops
When you look at me
Just one touch
Now baby I believe
This is real
So take a chance
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

We drove to Cali
And got drunk on the beach
Got a motel and
Built a fort out of sheets
I finally found you
My missing puzzle piece
I'm complete

Let's go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love
We can dance until we die
You and I
We'll be young forever

You make me
Feel like
I'm living a Teenage Dream
The way you turn me on
I can't sleep
Let's runaway
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

My heart stops
When you look at me
Just one touch
Now baby I believe
This is real
So take a chance
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

I might get your heart racing
In my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight

Let you put your hands on me
In my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight

You make me
Feel like
I'm living a Teenage Dream
The way you turn me on
I can't sleep
Let's runaway
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

My heart stops
When you look at me
Just one touch
Now baby I believe
This is real
So take a chance
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

Indonesian Reporters Are Dumb

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Indonesian reporters are dumb. Like, I know I can't be all generic about it - but honestly, the past couple of days I've spent watching the tv has just reaffirmed my reasoning to have kept such abhorrence to listening to their reports. It is also why I have usually in the past have kept well away from them, for my own sanity.

Take this evening's newsreport on the recent Mentawai Island earthquake. The reporter was interviewing a victim, whose father remained missing. He said to the girl: "so, your father is missing right?" "yes," the girl replied briskly.

Now, out of a gazillion possibilities things to say, he chose to ask this: "and what are your hopes in relation to that?"

Well what the heck do you expect dude?! Of course she wants her father found!!! Such an idiot.

Coffee Junkie

It is official people! I am a coffee freak.

Cannot survive without drinking at least a cuppa once a day. If I drink one in the morning, I will survive for the ENTIRE day, without feeling de-energized (is that a word?) or lazy or sleepy and everything else that puts the fire out of your spirit.

Today, I braved myself not to drink one. Instead, I opted for English Breakfast Tea (I personally prefer Earl Grey any day, but most unfortunately such I am not in possession of *sigh*), with a pint of sugar.

Then the day came and went....and at around 2.45ish in the afternoon I feel my eyes sagging on me, and my shoulders drooping down.

So I knew I had to get my fix.

I did. And now I am wide awake. Figures.

I'm Still Little Old Awkward Me

No matter what picture people have painted in their mind about me, or what impression they seem to have of me, I just wanted to note today that the truth is, I am still that awkward, self-conscious and socially inept me.

I think I am better now than before, but deep down, I haven't changed. I still have to hand-write everything I want to say on yellow post-its before I can make a phone call just to keep myself from speaking like an idiot.

This is what I wrote yesterday while I was reading a book. It just came to my head, the thought. And it stuck:

"When I'm nervous I get horribly tongue-tied that I ramble off into space, and can warble on incessantly without making any or the least bit of sense. I thought I'd overcome this problem, but honestly, I haven't. I'm still that old weird and awkward me who stumbles when she talks and is perpetually unsure of herself - practically radiating lack of self-confidence from her pores. I cover it all up either by being perky or talking too much that it puts people off."

And, honestly I don't know if I can be graceful or elegant or smooth. If ever.

Keeping Cool

What I am about to write is not a new topic - I think I may have posted at least twice already on the subject. But, I'm in an emotional upheaval right now, I need a place to vent, and I just basically really need to get this out of my system.

And hence this blogpost.

So what have I got to say today? Actually I already did mention the word in the first paragraph there - I have something to say about being 'emotional'.

In my previous posts, I think I mentioned that I really do not care what other people think of me, that they have free license to say whatever the hell they want to say about me, that really, what their mind is concocting about my character slash personality is no business of mine in any way.

If you ask me today whether I still feel that way, the answer is affirmative, yes, I really could not care less about what they or you have to say about me.

But, and here comes the 'bomb' - I'd like to add an extension to that statement, or rather, a clarifying clause to it.

I do not care what other people think of me, except those I call my friends (and by 'friend' I mean close friends or they who are in my inner circle), and those I am supposed to call family because of my birth. For these two categories of 'people', today I find myself in the situation that apparently, yes, I do still care.

I think that primarily, this is because that you would expect those two categories of people would be the ones who's got your back, who keep you up, and who lighten up your spirit instead of crushing them. Into dust. Or worse, nothingness. You can act so separatist from the world, but when it comes to your inner nucleus, it's hard to say that they do not matter. It's hard to disengage and detach yourself from caring. Because they make up who you are. Your life, whether or not you recognize it, revolves around them. And in the case of family, it's worse because you live with them. Well, obviously my last sentence there applies only to those of you who still live with members of your family, like me.

I won't be touching on the friends category today, because my problem at the moment is with the family.

Like my mom for instance. She has this...attitude (for want of a better word, I choose 'attitude'. Originally I wrote 'habit' but I don't think it would be the correct term) of always feeling like she has to put her two-cents in after every single time my father (notice I do not use the word 'dad') says something. A lecture, an angry statement, a scolding, a snappy complaint, whatever - my mom will be there to figuratively and literally, nod her head down and not only that, but give her assent too. I can't recall a time where she would defend me in front of him in front of my face. I can't recall a time where even if she would not defend me, she would at least say something to the contrary. Or better yet, just stay silent and be neutral.

That is one problem I have with her.

My second problem, which corroborates the first one, is how she would say one thing in front of me, then in front of my father - say the complete opposite. It's like she has to appear like she agrees with him on everything.

WHY???

I think I would not have such a problem with it if she maintained her position. You know, be constant. But no. She would appear to be understanding when I confide in her about something, then in front of my father, she too would confront me.

If she had from the start just told me what was really in her head, I would not find this as upsetting as this makes me.

And it just irks me so much, how after she does that, she can act like she didn't do anything wrong.

So I would really like to have the ability to numb oneself down. Like a block of ice. In the Antarctic. Unless there's a more permanent ice than that that you know of, then I'll take that one.

I am most upset, especially because right now, this time, presently, I am in need of her support. I do not need her berating me. I do not need her expressing her negativity. And most especially not, after she had portrayed some sort of positivity. Doing this, just completely shirked the carpet right off my feet. And I feel worse than drowned.

And you know, maybe I am too emotional about this. Maybe because I'm a girl. Great, so now I'm making it a gender thing. Which it isn't. But the point is, it seems like I can't completely detach myself from feeling.

So what, you may ask.

Well it's a shitty problem for me, because once I get like this, I don't feel like doing anything - period. Much less doing anything much. I lose all spirit. I lose motivation. I return to the child evidently still within me, sulking, and wish for nothing else but act so immaturely. My behavior becomes this: "OK, so that's what you think of me? Fine, then I'll be like what you think of me."

And so you can't tell me, after reading that, that I need to wake up. I am up. I've seen the glaring sunshine and rotting dirt - and I've just been dunked in quicksand. Right now, all I feel like doing is zilch.

I suppose I should grow thicker skin and brace myself up for the pain - get myself used to the beating. I know you are not getting that impression from me right now, but honestly speaking, I have. It's not the first time that this has happened. In fact, I've lost count. But I guess, every time it happens, I still somehow cannot erase that little spark of hope inside me that she would change. And I'm getting really tired, of keeping up my expectations.

Mobile blogging - check

As promised in my previous blog post, I am writing to confirm that yes, I can indeed blog from my mobile. Roger out.

Energy Booster - where art thou?

Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice.

- Samuel Johnson

I so need this right now.

A Kid's Perspective

Kids have a way of making you feel silly for missing the finer points in life. My too smart baby sister reminds me often enough of that, as she did again this evening:

"I can't believe I'm twenty-four years old already," I sighed miserably into the mirror.

"I can't believe your butt is big," my sixth-grader sister comments in response.

Life sucks.

Testing, one two three

So I got myself an iPhone after much debate and careful consideration. Apparently there is this application that I can use to update my posts straight from my phone. And that is what I'm testing now. I'll confirm in another post if this works.

My Secrets*

I was randomly browsing through the worldwideweb today, and stumbled upon this brilliant, brilliant essay, written by I think, a student from Yale: Lydia Martin. Her prose is unlike most of what I've ever come across. And right now, I'd kill to be able to write like her. She captures so beautifully what is in my heart.

So because I happen to be a graduate of law, and I don't want no copyrights claim coming at me, please note my disclaimer of what I will be quoting below. It is fully the work of Lydia Martin, including the starred title of this blogpost, and fully, all credits go to her.

Below I quote several parts of her essay that I love the most. I hope it will inspire anyone reading, like it did me. Read this while listening to Ben Jorgensen's 'Only Just a Memory'. Perfection has never felt so close to me.

"My Secrets"

"I walk off the subway. Cars, people, ambitions charge by. City thrashes without hesitation or apology. No stillness. No pause. People do not see where they are.
...

Just one second and the door closes. Eyes and ears shut. I am alone again. City melts, and questions quietly float away....With silence around, I can breathe again.

...
I flip the pages of her essay. She may pretend it is not linear, but there are still lines to be read.
...

I live only in me, and am surprised that others cannot see inside. Face wiped clean. Sweaters oversized. Everyone else tan and skin-tight. ...Our barriers are more real to me than our connections....I do not value your gossip....I refuse to play the game, and so cannot mind that you pick me last.
...
...I beam from everywhere. The happiness is shared, created by two. Smiles can now be spoken. They burst out. Forget stillness. I want to dance.

Knowledge and work and people who think like me. We were not the most popular, the most beautiful, the most likely to win. We lived inside, working to create the people we wanted to be. Against the bidding of others. And we survived.
...
Scents in my nose, swinging emotions in my gut. Lost on your ears.

A story is told as much by silence and by speech.

...
You and I are disparate. Our thoughts disagree....Even facts are false, filtered by the minds and mouths of informants.
...
Like the concentration camps he commands, in many ways he remains absent to himself.

...
I cannot be tied to others' happiness. I coil away to protect both of us. Before taught me to be on my own, and now is letting my enjoy it.
...
Maybe I am a complex web of confusion, in need of a storyteller who can figure me out.
...
But this diminishes reality. ...sewing together fragments, forgetting that the spaces between the pieces are more important than the rest.
...
Griffin, do not sew me together to create a sensible figure, worthy of understanding. You cannot capture me and keep me whole. You cannot make me frown and then tell me to smile. You cannot demand my secrets and then fill in the holes with your own. I am neither linear nor explicable.
...

Like the white spaces in an etching, such silences render form. But unlike an etching in which the whole is grasped at once the silence of a story must be understood over time.

I am a woman on the desert island, deciding to stay in the sand. I am Himmler keeping my secrets inside. I am Griffin begging for them to be heard. I am neither of them and none of you. If you were to tell my story, you would get it wrong. Don't classify my actions, nor interpret my notes. Life is known only from the inside.

No, I cannot share my secrets." - Lydia Martin, English 114: Writing Seminars 1

Seeing Doubles

One of the things I resent most is how some people employ double standards. I use the word 'resent' in lieu of 'hate', not only because it more properly explains how I feel, but also because these days I'm trying to keep my toe out of that line called 'hate'. Hate is only several inches short of love, some people say - and I'll choke myself up before I go there.

But I digress. Going back to doubles then, it astounds me how people can choose to act one way, and decide that others cannot likewise choose to act in that same way. Ever heard of democracy people? Or better yet, freedom of expression?

I am not saying that I have a problem with how one would choose to make a decision. In fact, I really could not care less. I was not asked for my opinion, and even after I was somehow linked to the issue by another, I was still not asked for my opinion. If a decision is subsequently made then, how is it that anyone in their right mind can consciously come to the conclusion that I too, was involved? And/or, I too, should take responsibility? Why am I not allowed to be free of any strings that more than likely would be attached to that decision? In case ya'll are blind and/or stupid and can't understand me: hello, I didn't make the decision!

So hell no, and fuck you.

I in no way ever limited or even expressed in any manner my objection to the decision. I never once questioned that anyone has the authority to make decisions - with or without my involvement. It is always your choice to act, in however manner you deem fit, in whatever way you deem wise. I really don't give a fig.

Oh, and furthermore, by the way, you once made that choice to leave your hands clean of any responsibility! And in fact, even in this case, after you've had your say, you just up and left, but not before leaving us with an order to bloody fix the mess! Pray tell, how are you acting any different?

Excuse me while I comment: if ever there is a pot calling the kettle black, you damn well just personified the action.

I won't bother responding, and I don't care what others may choose to say about me. I've been crushed and stepped on and stabbed in the front and spit on and whatever else worse act you can think of, been there. I don't have a need to justify myself to you. You want to think of me in a certain way, go ahead. You want to impose judgments and label a stamp over my action, do it. I won't deign myself to waste time responding to it - it's not going to do me any good. Because why? Because ultimately, whatever you or anyone chooses to think about me, I have no control over. So make yourselves happy - I'll be having my own tango in my backyard with limed tequila and a heck of a book for company.

P.S. If anyone needs to question their neutrality, it sure as hell isn't me. I'm only one of the few sane ones left who don't want the whole house of cards to fall apart in waste. But hey, it's your party.

It's Not Washing Out

"Why, Flynn? Why can't we move on past this stupid wall between us? I miss you. I miss us. Don't you miss us, Flynn? And you're breaking my heart, when you promised me you wouldn't Flynn! Why!" Lily cried out as she angrily swiped at her tears with her sleeve.

Flynn shut his eyes tight at the sight of her tears, trying to hold back his own that threatened to fall. He felt like splinters were razoring his insides, cutting deep. It was a while before he managed to speak, his throat having gone desert-dry. "Some things just don't wash out, Lily. That includes heartbreak," Flynn said brokenly, "So don't you hold me to that. You failed to keep mine."

***

I think I'm going to call this one "Castles". This was inspired by "So in love" by The Icarus Account - an insanely talented band. Love. Love.

Just Press Delete

It was hard. It was necessary. I debated whether I should do it, and in the end I decided to go for it. To keep it there would only serve to constantly be a ringer for what I don't want to remember. In the end you can only trust so much. In the end you can only hurt so much. Before you crack.

And I have cracked.

So I reacted. And I pressed 'delete'. "Are you sure?" the screen prompted me.

I did not hesitate to press down 'yes'.

Fragile

This heart is fragile and weak and it quavers with

every little break you crack into it with

every doubt and every question

why are you questioning

why are you doubting me.

This heart is flooded full over the brim with

rivers of ache and pain and tears that glitters

if I swallow I will taste bitter and salt

there is no doubt of it

there is no questioning it.

Breathe

so they tell me to do for a while now

but I've been having a hard time to just

breathe

I keep choking and spluttering

every word comes out a staggering stutter

and I

can't even manage one sentence

don't press me for a paragraph

no language would express fully

what this feels like

to me

and I

desperately need to just breathe.

This heart is fragile like antique china

that's been duct-taped all over with the strongest of bands

to keep it all together and not fall

apart,

but it's falling apart

and I'm falling apart

because I'm fragile.

Ty and Jase

"Why do you get like that, Ty? Why?" Jason asked his twin harshly, furious with the most recent stunt Tyson had pulled. Again. After over again. It's like begging for a death wish, he thought. Playing games with the wires of destiny the way he does.

Carefully inhaling his Cuban cigar, Tyson gave him a cursory glance before turning his gaze outside, past the the floor-to-ceiling panelled windows to the beautiful english garden their mother had designed. Their deceased mother. Thanks to a jug of vicodin and some kegfuls of irish whisky. And let's not forget the stress pills - 'happy pills' - as their youngest brother Aaron likes to call it.

Naive kid.

"Well? Aren't you going to bother answering me?" Jason barked, eyebrows drawn in in anger.

Tyson switched his gaze to the ends of his cigar, twirling the insanely expensive commodity between his fingers slowly, marvelling the mix of dead colours. Dead, much like people he knew. Even Jase, perhaps? He smirked. Not literally. He took a long torturous breath before responding.

"What do you want me to say, Jase? You've been able to second-guess me since before we could both walk. What's stopping you now?" He said in a bored voice, taking another sweep of his cigar as he looked out the window again. He didn't see Jason looking at him incredulously.

Jason couldn't remember the last time he felt so out of place. He could hardly believe this was the same person who taught him how to shoot the basketball so that it landed always into the hoop when they were six. What the hell had happened to his brother? "What's stopping me? What's stopping me?" he shrieked.

In that moment, the insanity of what was happening struck him hard. And he laughed. Uproariously. Bitterly, until Tyson finally registered that his perpetually-composed brother, had seemed to crack.

"You know what you are Ty? You're like Two-Face in Batman. Manipulative as fuck. And worse, you like it," Jason spat bitterly.

*** unfinished...we'll see where this goes I guess.

Lies

"But it's too hard. I lied when I said it was okay. It's not. I can't stand the thought of you being with her. I hate hearing about you kissing her."

- "It's All Relative" by Cupid Psyche.

Line Your Traffic Lights Proper, and Keep 'Em Straight Up

Setting out priorities is a challenge to many. I myself have had trouble setting my priorities, or even not the point of setting them out yet, but merely identifying what they are (or what they should be).

It all of course, comes with the territory of being an adult. Of coming of age. Of...simply put: growing older. Given the choice, obviously it's not something any of us would purposefully do. So we prioritize (or try to), for no other reason than we must.

The problem is, keeping your gaze focused on your target is not a piece of cake, and even more not so when you have one, two, three, ten, twenty, a hundred, a thousand, and so on (you get the picture) of other voices whispering in your ear - tripping you; questioning you; questioning you that you question yourself; questioning you that you end up...lost.

But the wrong does not lie with the question. No. It lies, in fact, in the unfortunate situation that you find yourself in: feeling that you have to question yourself. Feeling that you are incapable of making a decision, without a second opinion, if only to convince you that you are not making a mistake, if only to ensure your mind's peace that you won't be regretting what you come to decide today. This is wrong, because you weaken yourself by doing so.

No one's asking me - but this blog is mine so I am free to write whatever I think. And what I think, is that one should have the ability to decide freely. One should have the ability to see, without rose-coloured glasses obstructing the truthfully bleak view. One should have the bravery, the courage, the nerve, to put all other considerations aside - be it political, emotional, personal, religious, social - and take a dive into the truth.

Originally, Georgia

I've gone bored again with the last blog design layout. I thought that that would be it for me, seeing how it was all soft pink and subtle and everything. But in the last few days, I felt like it was dull. So I've decided to switch back to this theme that I've used before: "extreme georgia". I think it's very different from a lot of the blog templates out there - and I for one, have never liked being unoriginal.

Thank Your Body Fat - it's a LIFESAVER

I don't think I've ever been more thankful and felt so fortunate that I happen to be a little big in the bottoms, than today.

Prior to this day, or rather, this morning, I've always cursed my luck for "blessing" me with a big butt and an equally big pair of thighs. I've envied my mum, who in my age was nicely thin and had legs that went for miles, and likewise I've cursed my brother, who seemed to be the only one of us five blessed with her gifts of long legs and dimpled bottoms. I told him plenty of times, that being a girl, I'm the one who should have had his butt. And his legs.

But God always has His reasons, and God always has plans.

Want to know what happened to me today?

I fell in the bathroom as I stepped into the shower. My right foot slipped, just like that, and I went flying backwards, hands flailing everywhere in my desperate attempt for something to hold onto (and there was none). I count it my FORTUNE, that I landed on the right side of my fat butt, instead of in the middle or my spine, which would have been deadly, and most likely rendered me disabled. Or worse, landed my head on the floor, crashing my skull into stone-hard tiles.

No, I am thankful to have my body fat cushioning my fall, and I broke my fall with my right hand - a bit harsh but not damaging. I don't even have a blue bruise (not to be equated with no bruise at all, mind you).

Had I not have that fat on my butt, I assure you, it would have been bones against hard tiles - splat.

So for those of you with a little extra squish here and there, love them. Or learn to love them. They just might save you one day, like mine did.

Bitching

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But now that the flood gate has burst, he didn't know how to stop it, or retracted it back in. He supposed hindsight is always twenty-twenty, but being reminded of that in the middle of this...breakdown was not something he needed right now. Everywhere he searched in vain though, the exits they were not.

Sometimes, he thought he could be a real idiot. And other times, he could be real smart, because he was real lucky. He wouldn't kid himself or anyone that he was a genuinely awesomely clever guy. So why couldn't now be one of those times that he was lucky? Did life always choose whether to hand you apples or oranges? Is it only the blessed few that had the ability to pick? If yes, did that mean he wasn't one of the blessed few? And if another yes, why the fuck was it that he wasn't included in the list of the blessed few? Is this fair?

He knew he could keep on bitching like this for another hour. And another hour. And another, until maybe, it had been a day or a week, and he was spent. Yet that didn't seem to be too good of a prospect. The thought of agonizing over something he knew is useless didn't look appetizing. He had known of this always, and so though the thought now does not in any way come as a surprise, it served as some sort of welcome. Whether a pleasant or an unwanted one, he isn't really able to say.

For now.

---------
*** random doodles. While waiting to be picked up.

Happy Endings

Paige didn't answer nor could she look at him. His words sounded so good, but it wasn't enough. He didn't lie to her with false promises, but he didn't give her that guarantee she needed but knew didn't exist.

Feeling the distance between them, Wyatt slowly felt himself losing grip on his hope for things to work out between them. The more he saw Paige running from him, the more he felt he couldn't keep running after her. Love wasn't about one side constantly fighting for the other. She had to be able to risk it for him too.

------

It wasn't until three nights ago Paige was able to corner him in a club where the boys' were throwing a birthday party for one of their girlfriends. Paige saw Wyatt going to the restroom and she quickly followed him, staking out by the door until he came out.

When he did, Wyatt eyes widened, but his expression quickly turned dark and he tried to excuse himself. Paige grabbed his arm and he stopped.

"Wyatt, how long are we going to be like this?"

Wyatt turned around and Paige couldn't help but take a step back from him. He looked so closed off from her, so devoid of emotion and of any recognition of her.

"Like what?" He asked simply as if not knowing what she meant. But she could tell by the tense way he stood that he was working hard to stay in control and calm.

"When can we be friends again?" Paige asked him. Yet, the moment she asked the question, she already knew his answer.

For a few seconds, the stoic façade crumbled and Wyatt allowed his frustration to show. His shoulders slumped for that moment before quickly straightening again.

"When I can finally learn to love you without being in love with you."

And then he walked away, leaving Paige to feel as if he was leaving her for good.

-----

Paige began to walk down the room, glancing at the pictures, remembering each moment when Wyatt gave them for her. As everybody else took their time to read the description and examine the pictures, Paige kept walking. She knew everything by heart, each speech Wyatt gave her about why the picture was important. Even without reading the brochure, she knew… No, within her, she felt what it was he was trying to say.

Happy endings.

The exhibit was arranged in which the photographs and wall spiraled to end in the middle. Paige must have gone through the exhibit quickly because suddenly she was at the end, with no one around her. The middle of the room had one wall and was closed in by white screens that were filled with flowers and vines. Before the photograph was a little white block that served as a bench.

Paige took in the screens, the flowers, and the bench before lifting her eyes to meet the photograph. When her eyes finally saw the last photograph, Paige took a deep breath and held it.

It was their picture, the one he forced her to take so long ago. They were on her couch. Wyatt's cheek was against her head, grinning happily with Paige smiling as well, despite showing hints of irritation. You could tell from the picture Wyatt was taking the picture of them.

It was a moment, just a moment between the two of them. But it was just the two of them, together.

Paige didn't realize it, but she was silently sobbing. Her hand reached out to touch their photograph, and despite how her vision was blurring, she could read the little inscription below the photograph.

My Happy Ending.

"So what do you think?" A voice came from behind her.

Paige turned around, and there was Wyatt, dressed in a dark pants and a white dress shirt. His hair looked as if he was running his fingers through it a few too many times. His lips tilted up on one side, and he gave her his signature smirk.

"I love it," Paige whispered. I love you.

Wyatt didn't say anything else, not asking about her appearance, about her tears, or why she was even there. He just stood there, not closing the small distance between them, and waited. Paige knew that it was up to her to take the step…

So she did. She took a step towards him and said, "I'm an idiot. I realized just how much of an idiot I was today."

Another step. All her thoughts became jumbled and the words kept pouring out of her mouth.

"All my life, all I could see was the bad. I could only see the ugly when it came to love and I just believed that being with people only caused heartache and it wasn't worth it. So I stayed alone."

One step. Two step.

"But then I met you. And you made the ugly bearable," Paige said. She felt herself beginning to smile. "And suddenly I didn't see just the ugly. I saw the good. I saw the laughs, the fun, the friendship… The love."

She took one more step and then she was before him. Wyatt stood still, watching her intently. He made no move to touch her and Paige didn't as well.

"I didn't believe that love could last," Paige whispered. "I didn't want to risk it because I didn't want to lose you. Because, Wyatt, you're not worth losing."

Slowly she raised her hand that held the picture she took and showed him the picture of the elderly man and woman holding hands as they walked down a path.

"But then I saw them," Paige continued. "And I just knew… I want this. I want the chance to hold your hand when we're old, to help you up a path, and to forever walk with you wherever you want to go so you can take whatever pictures you want to take. Because as much as I'm afraid to lose you Wyatt… The chance to have this happy ending with you… It's worth the risk."

The smile on Wyatt's face was slowly widening with teach word she said. He glanced at her then at the picture then at her again. Slowly, his hand reached up and cupped her face. His thumb wiped away a falling tear and Wyatt leaned in. With his lips only a breath away from hers, he whispered, "There's still no guarantee for us you know."

Paige nodded, her eyes dropping to his lips. "I know," she answered, looking up into his eyes. "But I think we got a good chance… Because, believe it or not, I really love you, flaws and all."

"Ditto," Wyatt whispered back before finally leaning in and kissing her.

And so there they stood before their picture, ignoring the slow trickle of people coming in to look at the end of the exhibit, only caring that somehow, they got to that moment.

She would always be the girl with her fears and he would always be the boy who was the optimist. And despite having the odds against them, they just had to look at their picture and believe that they'll get their happy ending…

Because, in the end, you just have to have faith.

***
excerpts from "Happy Endings" by jennycraig10

Truly one of the best fucking one-shots I've had the pleasure of reading in a long time. A million kudos to Jenny.

Don't Look At Me, I Didn't Do It

She couldn't figure out why the nagging feeling in the bottom of her stomach won't go away. Something seemed missing. Like there was a big gaping hole somewhere. It'd be great if only she could find out what it is exactly that is bugging her. Ransacking the brain, as she has now come to realize, doesn't really do much if the thing one was looking for simply refused to be found - as if insistent on playing hide-and-seek with the seeker who does not want to sought the hiding because of the want that the hiding would just simply come out in the open. It would, you know - making things sure a hell of a damn lot easier. Wow that's two curse words there. But what the heck.

One thing she knows for sure: somebody stole something from her. Something valuable. Something important. Something priceless. Something...she definitely wants, and in case it's not already clear to you guys, something she definitely needs.

All I gotta tell you is, don't look at me. I didn't do it.

***
Weird, random mutterings in the middle of my work break. So sue me.

Quote of the Day

If we would only give, just once, the same amount of reflection to what we want to get out of life, that we give to the question of what to do with two weeks' vacation, we would be startled at our false standards and the aimless procession of our busy days.

- Dorothy Canfield Fisher

Sometimes the Push Weighs Heavy to the Pull

Practicing law isn't easy. Many of course, know this as fact. I myself, had never once challenged its truthfulness. But - it is again one of those things in life that unless you personally experience it, you won't truly understand exactly what it means. Or, for a better explanation - you won't truly get what it entails, involves, and requires.

Since I graduated from law school almost two years ago, I had a vague idea about what particular aspect of law I wanted to practice in - if I ended up practicing at all. There is a caveat at that last sentence there, because as you can see from the contents of this blog, my most cardinal passion is writing. Period.

Writing what, you may ask.

Well, I wish I could tell you that I have a passion for writing popular essays, scientific papers, and other academic-related work which people would more readily respect and give up their hands in applaud. Because they would think that is a more worthy...vocation.

But, that is not my passion.

My passion is in writing romance, fantasy, mystical/mythical stories, poems, lyrics, that reflect human interaction - but not the supposedly more 'intellectual" side as I mentioned earlier. And the reason is because those subjects, make me smile. Make my heart go pitter-patter.

To write about the other seemingly impressive issues - or mundane, in my view, is stressful, painful, and gives me a ton of headache. The world, as I see it, has gone completely effed-up, and to immerse myself in it, gives me no pleasure.

Of course here you can say that I am a selfish person. Selfish because my position seem to characterize myself as being apathetic, and imply that I care for no one but myself.

And clearly, I have no way of convincing you of anything - but I assure you, I actually care a lot.
It is simply that - I also have no care to prove to people that I care, most especially, by me doing anything.

But during the last several years of my life, I have been entrusted with many a situation which forces me to question back my passions in life, and what I really want to do in, and with, my life.
I have been told, and I am very much aware and humbled, that I have been blessed with certain gifts, that it is a waste if I don't use those gifts for "humanity".

The difficulty is, I get that. I really do.

So coming back to my practicing law for a very, very, brief period of time - recently I have been tasked to do more "desk work": corporate stuff.

Which, to my not-so-surprised brain, have left me with an almost rigid certainty that I am not cut out for this type of work.

I much, much, prefer disputes.

Going through drafts after drafts of term-sheets and contracts, is both tedious, laborious, and frustrating. I must have mentioned it at least twenty times by now: I do not think I am cut out to be a corporate lawyer.

And here now, comes the question: why don't I do something else, or just concentrate on disputes?

The obvious answer is: lawyers cannot always choose their work.

Especially, when you are just starting out at the bottom of the pyramid, like me.
You get assigned a certain task, you are told what to do if you are lucky (and often the case is that you are not told), and you are expected to do it well.

In fact, even when you become a partner, you cannot always choose your work, because of the economy situation and interests and impacts which may come back to haunt you in the future. Because sadly for disputes (if you choose to be strict in what you choose, i.e. you want to do disputes and nothing else), they can or cannot be there! It all depends on how the parties choose to behave. If they get along and all are happy lovey-dovey, then it is bye-bye work and money. If not, then "all hail the evilness" and you then go dive in to, essentially, save the day.

And every single day I continually ask myself: am I doing the right thing? Am I at the right place? Or am I wasting time?

This will be the first time I mention it, but I am currently twenty-three, soon-to-be twenty-four in a couple of months.

I know no one knows how long they are going to live, but I happen to believe that its precisely because you don't know, that you need to make sure you get the most out of it, by doing what you love, what you enjoy most, and fuck all other people's expectations.

So I am definitely swimming in murky waters as of the moment, which I pray will clear up soon (read: which I pray I will be able to clear up soon).

Perceptions

Both siblings stared at the nugget left on the plate they had been sharing breakfast. The elder knew she was not going to eat it. Her stomach felt full already. They had been set on fixing themselves with junk food: french fries, nuggets and coke for breakfast. Neither cared about gaining weight though.

"You're not going to finish that are you?" Her brother asked, smirking.

"Huh?" She asked, slightly disoriented, her lips licking on the barbeque sauce on her fingertips. "Um, no. I'm too full already," she answered, sighing.

"That's not the reason," her brother rolled his eyes. "You never finish the food."

Her brows scrunched up in protest. "What do you mean I never finish the food? I'm just full, dude."

"No," he contradicted again, "You never finish the last piece on the plate. Not when you're sharing with one of us. You always stop."

She did not know how to respond to that.

--
*a conversation with one of my brothers on Sunday morning.

Like a Runaway

I can't get this tune out of my head. The melodies just flow so...right. To my ears anyway.

I am more than you know, street lights and open roads
I am more than a face, stuck living in one place
So call me California

Call me what you will
Cause I am bigger than this place, And so far from alone

I don't believe in your hate 'cause these scars are gonna fade
So pour me out like water, and soak me up like rain

[Chorus: ]

Like a runaway, spend these night counting stars
Like a runaway
And maybe I could call this home tonight
Like a runaway

I whisper all these secrets, to a blank page on a line
I said we don't speak like lovers, and my words are dripping with wine
So call me California
Call me what you will
'Cause I'm bigger than this place
And so far from alone

[Chorus]

When burning bridges won't come down
Like symphonies without a sound
I spend these nights counting stars
And wonder if there's hope for me out there, out there

*** "Runaway" by Thriving Ivory

Newly Found

If you cannot move then I will carry you
If you cannot breathe I'll be the air
Only say my name to show me where you are
and I'll be there when no one else will stand

- 'Carry You' by Sleeperstar

I still think of you at night
While I beg the Lord to let me sleep
I pretend that I am all right
That you're leaving me

Wherever you go
I will always long for you
Wherever you are
I wish I was there
If you're running away do you want me to chase you
Tried to move on but I couldn't erase you
Wherever you go
I will always long for you

If I'm honest with myself
Let's say that we never stood a chance
Love don't walk away
You know how bad I need you now
I'll say it again

'Wherever You Go' by Sleeperstar

***
In addition to Ian Walsh, Sleeperstar is a band I newly discovered and whom I've been listening to all day long (although they've been around awhile). Amazing talents.

Dear dear Ian Walsh

Just pretend for a moment that I’m all you have
I say come on, just look around
He’s not so picture perfect in the end.
When I told you that I loved you,
From that moment on you’d always be casting shadows, casting shadows over me.

- 'Casting Shadows' by Ian Walsh

We go to a place where all the sound’s drowned out
She says I have nothing to worry about
I still don’t feel better when all is said and done
Because my mind is only on if I’m Melissa’s only one

- 'Melissa' by Ian Walsh

This moment came too soon
And my train is coming around, around, around
The more I think of you the more I think that I just won’t get on this time.

- 'Safe and Sound' by Ian Walsh

Quotes of the Day from Superstars under 30

"Pay attention to serendipity. I'm convinced that what seems to be accidental, coincidental, or unplanned really isn't."

- Rebecca Kousky

"Do your homework, and then commit to your venture and begin to execute. If you aren't fully committed, you will quickly find a reason to fail or never actually start."

- Morgan Newman

"Stone cold, iron-willed determination. It's going to be long hours and a lot of hard work, but if you have confidence in your product, you will succeed."

- Aaron Patzer

"Stop just thinking about it and make it happen. The worst that can happen if you fail now is that you'll have firsthand experience to make your next venture a success."

- Catherine Cook


We should all benefit by taking a leaf out of each of their books.

Designs

I change my template for this blog quite often - for no other reason than that I've not found one with which I am in perfect contentment. But this one, seems to strike it right.
I like the colours - pink, which is of subtle shade, nothing glaring or shocking or the like... soft...and one which I for one am not finding it boring to look at.

Of course you and possibly many others will beg to differ, but we are all entitled to our opinions.

So anyway, I think I'll be keeping this one for a while.

About Life

Some people have a pretty bended view of life.
I talk not of life as in the ordinary definition which is the animate existence or period of animate existence of an individual.

But life - in the sense of what truly matters, which would make one happy, content and well-rested.
In the sense of - finding that heaven on earth. As in, you are my life.

Because face it, you only get to live once, right? What's the point if you don't get to feel like you're in paradise when you're here. Once your breath stops - that is it.

I know that many put different values and marks on all the components that makes life what it is.
I know that I've been cursed by many for choosing my path.
I know that many call me stupid, idiotic, foolish, dumb, and just down-right...meaningless.

And I have been called many things. A bitch. Heartless. Evil. Weirdo. Fucked-up. Black-hearted. All sorts of things.

I have been back-stabbed, one too many times.
I have been heartbroken - by those I loved and friends, and those I had thought and considered to be very good friends of mine. And cried my heart out for the treachery.

In fact, I have recently been brokenhearted once more.

Each and every one of those beautiful mistakes, have made me who I am.

So if they think that they matter to me - they are sorely, deeply, and greatly mistaken.

They may have my attention, but they have not my care. And call me what you like - I don't give out second chances. Once you're out - there is no way in hell you're getting back in.

And I get back to my first point about life. It's too short for you to waste thinking, pondering, considering about things that don't even care about you. That don't even consider how you would feel. How you would see things. How would you approach a certain issue, or non-issue, as it appears to be.

Dedicate your life only to those who has your back - when you're one step from dying.
And to those, who would take the knife for you.

So people, people can curse me all they want. Call me whatever you want. Treat me however you wish to. You have free will. And you are free to think and feel.

But, so am I.

Now the question is, do I have a bended view of life?

I like to think that I'm pretty simple to figure out. I really don't ask for much. A little honesty, even when I know I don't want to hear it. But most importantly, loyalty.

I place not all the gold and pearls in the world on coca-cola-like wealth. One that tastes so good as it passes down your throat, but kills your limbs slowly on the inside.
I place not all the love in the world on insipid objects that many think are worth so much - because they will not make me happy in the end.

And it truly saddens me to know, that there are those who do not get it.

But that is life.

These things I'll Never Say

So close to midnight
Under the streetlights
Leaving behind what I don`t need

I`ve walked like a blind man
And my eyes are open
And you are the only place for me

Won't you hold on just for a while
Please don`t give up on me tonight

Coz I`m on my way
I chased the day
Yeah I`ll keep running all night

I just won't rest to catch my breath
I will run every red light

To get to you
No I will, get to you
No I will, get to you

I`ll chase past the tail lights

Head for the skyline

Hoping that, that won't change your faith

I see them appearing
The cracks in the pavement
Running I pray I`m not too late

Won't you hold on just for a while
Please
Please don`t give up on me tonight

Coz I`m on my way
I`ll chase the day
Yeah I`ll keep running all night

I just won't rest to catch my breath
I will run every red light

To get to you
No I will get to you
No I will get to you
I will

I`ll get to you
Just hold on a little longer
I`ll get to you
Oh just don`t give up on me
I will get to
I will get to you

Coz I`m on my way
I chased the day
Yeah I`ll keep running all night.

*** full credits to James Morrison.
***title credits to Avril Lavigne.

Lyrical Lies

An old man gave me a tip he said
"Don't waste your time with politics" he said
"Just chase skirts instead"
"Life is too short, and you're almost dead" he said
"I met a woman once, I gave her my best shot"
"But never did I talk and talk and talk"
"If I had her back, I'd be as real as my age"
"I so don't blame them, I wouldn't do the same"
"But I can blame them, I'd sing her this"

And you want to be dressed in poetry
But imagery doesn't fit
And you want resizing
But darling dear get a grip

And I think what I just wrote is going over my head
I'm stealing lines from myself
And what I said was never said
It's just a lyrical lie
Made up in my mind

And you want to be dressed in poetry
But imagery doesn't fit
And you want resizing
But darling dear get a grip

You're moving but not aware
You're drowsy without a care
Except keeping your whites behind your lids
And your lids are your best canvas
I can only imagine what you're painting, what you're painting
And your body on my mattress is proof
And your makeup on my pillow is proof
But do you think I am telling you the truth

It's just a lyrical lie
Made up in my mind

And you want to be dressed in poetry
But imagery doesn't fit
And you want resizing
But darling dear get a grip

And you want to be dressed in poetry
But imagery doesn't fit
And you want resizing
But darling dear get a grip

***full credits to Cute is What We Aim For.

Here is Gone

You and I got something
But it's all and then it's nothing to me
...
And I got my defenses
When it comes to your intentions for me
...
And we wake up in the breakdown
Of the things we never thought we could be
...

I'm not the one who broke you
I'm not the one you should fear
We've got to move you darling
I thought I lost you somewhere
But you were never really ever there at all...

And I want to get free
Talk to me
I can feel you falling
And I wanted to be
All you need
Somehow here is gone

I am no solution
To the sound of this pollution in me
...
And I was not the answer so forget you ever thought it was me
...

I'm not the one who broke you
I'm not the one you should fear
We've got to move you darling
I thought I lost you somewhere
But you were never really ever there at all

And I want to get free
Talk to me
I can feel you falling
And I won't tempt to be
All you need
Somehow here is gone

And I don't need a fall out
Of all the past that's here between us
And I'm not holding on
And all your lies weren't enough to keep me here

And I want to get free
Talk to me
I can feel you falling
And I wanted to be
All you need
Somehow here is gone
And I want to get free
Talk to me
I can fear you falling

I know it's out there
...
I can feel you falling
I know it's out there
...
Somehow here is gone
I know it's out there
...
Somehow here is gone

***
John Rzeznik of the incomparable Goo Goo Dolls, will always have my love.

Juli di Bulan Juni

Ku buka mata
Kilau mentari
Kini cahyanya sedikit berbeda, karna ku berubah

Sudut pandangku:
Kini dunia tak lagi
Tempat yang keji, dimana hati
dingin dan beku

ada kala hati dan ketulusan
dimana seharusnya

Ku membiarkan
cinta bekerja
menyembuhkan hatiku
Ku membiarkan
mu menyentuhku
dengan ketulusanmu
Ku membiarkan
Dunia keji
Kini ku milikimu

Di Juni ini
Aku berjanji
kepada hati untuk tak lagi
merasa sedih

Ku membiarkan
Cinta bekerja
menyembuhkan hatiku
Ku membiarkan
mu menyentuhku
dengan ketulusanmu


***full credits to: Sarah Silaban. Possibly the greatest female artist in Indonesia.

Just the Way You Are Perfectly Imperfect

"Sorry, but this is the best I could do," Jake said wryly, holding a cup of punch on each hand. Allyson smiled her tenth smile at him. He'd counted. "Are you cold?"

"No," Al replied as she received the cup from him.

"You are," he said. He put down his cup and shrugged out of his coat.

"There's no need—" Al started to reply.

"Take it," Jake insisted. He took her hand, placed the coat, and walked away to the other side of the terrace. "Look, I'm going to stay right here," he said in a playful tone as he leaned on a pillar. "I won't bite."

"It's a beautiful night," Allyson said, studying him from twenty feet away. It had been ages since she'd last seen Christopher. When Jake returned to their table for a second time, it didn't take long for Chris to figure things out and he had jokingly reprimanded her for making him feel unwanted. How could you let my sister cajole me into going with you when you really intended to dump the prince for the frog?

She didn't know how long she had danced with Jake, didn't even think she'd listened to anything but the steady beating of his heart. If Lou could see her now, she'd be bursting with laughter. Lou had told her not to avoid Jake. But dancing? Now that was way more than expected. But for tonight, Al didn't care.

"Sam's been looking for you," he said in a deep voice.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Thought someone had kidnapped you to keep you away from us," he replied in an amused voice. "She misses you." I miss you.

"I miss her, too," Allyson replied sincerely.

Do you miss me, Beauty?

"Suddenly, she wants a big motorcycle so she could go around town and see everyone else," he said with a smile. "I don't want to disappoint her."

"You couldn't," Al replied without thinking.

He was immensely pleased with her remark but knew that it was far from the truth. "Oh, I have. Many times." He stayed silent for awhile then broke it with a loaded statement. "Just like I've disappointed you. Many times."

"Jake—"

"I like it when you say my name. Do you know that?" he paused, seeing her color with his remark. "And when you blush like that and I could see it from twenty feet? Very appealing."

"Are you teasing me?" Allyson asked laughingly.

He straightened from his leaning position and started walking around the terrace. It was a long time before either of them spoke. "When you walked out of the theater that day, I thought you'd never talk to me again. I was so happy because I'd finally made my peace with my father but it was hard seeing you leave without word." He smiled sadly, and looked like he was reliving the memory. "He was a good father, Al, before…before she left us. Now he's trying. And doing good, I might add. But sometimes, I'm still scared," he said hoarsely. "still scared."

He stopped and leaned lightly on a pillar, seemingly trying to control himself. When he looked up, his eyes were mysteriously shiny. "I'm sorry, Ally."

"Jake," she finally spoke, desperate to keep the light-hearted they'd had all evening. "We've already done this. I've forgiven you. It's over."

"No!" he snapped out, now clutching at the railings. "I hurt you so much. No matter how many times I want to forget about it, I couldn't erase that image of you looking so terribly hurt. I ignored you and treated you horribly. That day," he stopped with a catch in his voice. "That day I was so crazed trying to avoid you that something in me just snapped. I thought she was you. You have to believe me, Allie. I know I ignored you on purpose, I pushed you away. But I would never go that far. I wouldn't do that to you. You have to believe me," he said, almost pleading. "I pushed you away because I knew it would hurt you if you stayed with me. I thought I was protecting you. But I ended up hurting you anyway. Now that I think about it, I think I did it for selfish reasons. I was…afraid that you'd see me for who I was. Trouble with a capital T."

She should have stayed where she was, but she found herself walking towards him, needing to comfort him. "Don't do this to yourself," she whispered achingly, her hands caressing his arm lightly.

Her touch was bittersweet, lulling him temporarily to hopeless illusions. Then he covered her hands with his and slowly turned towards her, almost ready to take the plunge. He watched the expressions dancing across her face. Surprise, anxiety, anticipation. Forgiveness. "How could I have hurt you" he asked tenderly, as he brushed his knuckles brightly over her cheeks, his heart raring to make the final leap, "when I love you so much?"

He silenced any response from her as he covered her lips with his. He felt her go rigid in his arms and knew she was trying to fight him with indifference. He moved his mouth over hers but she remained impassive. Lifting his head to look at her startled emerald eyes, he begged her with his eyes. Please. He kissed her with aching tenderness, pleaded with her to return the kiss. And when she finally gave in to the kiss, he lost all control as he tightened his arms around her, cupping her head to draw her even closer to him. He was like a soldier who had gone on days without water. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. She was sweet and so perfect in his arms.

At the back of her mind, Allyson knew it was wrong. But she could resist him no longer. Not when he was kissing her with such need, as if he couldn't go on without her. So she felt herself giving back, asking him to take what he would, her heart treacherously going against her mind. Suddenly, his words rushed over her and they chilled her like ice. How could I have hurt you…when I love you so much? She broke away abruptly from the kiss, a pounding headache threatening to overwhelm her.

"No," she whispered hoarsely.

"Yes!" he insisted, desperate to keep her in his arms. He was about to bend down for another kiss when she pushed him away hard.

"How could you do this?" she asked, begged in a confused tone. "I can't believe this," she said in disbelief, as she turned away from him. Finding her purse at the nearby chair, she left the terrace without another word, desperate to get as far away from him as possible.

He didn't go after her, knowing it would be fruitless. He had one shot. And he had missed. He sat on the step, stared blankly ahead, and felt like crying.

***

credits to: dream6-20 at http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2028013/24/Just_the_Way_You_Are_Perfectly_Imperfect