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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

Privy

I am privy to information that you don't want me to know
I am privy to feelings that you try so damn hard to not show
I am privy to conflicts that you try to avoid and untangle
but it shows

I am privy to details that you think I do not know of
I am privy to connections that you don't know I'm in possession of
and I am privy to the feeling that you're lost
and you don't even know you're lost
or that you've lost

We will never be the same
We will never be the same again
Neither time or reconstruction will allow
Neither effort nor attempt will make a difference
Things just won't ever be the same
and well I know it
and now you know it
too.

The Facebook Mania and All of Its Pettiness

The reason why I am writing about the title you read for this post is simple: it's because I've grown to hate reading people of a certain country's status updates on Facebook.

It's been known for long that people of this country is just...gay. Not 'gay' as in homosexual - there is nothing wrong with that, I could care less about one's sexual preference. And not 'gay' as in happiness either.
But 'gay', as in the meaning that is gaudy, garish and intense. Now let me tell you why.

People living in this certain country lives in phases. Once a particular trend enters the market, so the people would adhere to and change in accordance with it. They mold themselves to fit that trend. It's sickening.

I crave, the days when I was only one of so few people in this country who knew about the phenomenon that is Facebook, where I could write on my close friends' wall without worrying that several hundred others will know what I wrote - because it's usually personal. I crave, that quiet tranquility of being a user of a technology that has not been abused.

In those days, one is saved from the misery that comes with reading all of the confusing, stupid, vapid comments and status updates that now seems to contaminate the entirety of Facebook. But I don't want you to get me wrong. It's not all of the ones in my so-called friends list that are putting up silly updates which, I really honestly am not interested to read. Only those who are registered as nationals of this certain country. And I don't mind to read about some national's of this certain country's updates.

But as for the majority rest - I feel like it's such a waste.

A waste of my time, effort, and most importantly, energy.

Do you know that no other country's citizens does that? Maybe you know, but if you don't, now you know.

Another reason that it's such a ludicrous waste, is because the citizens of this particular country, has a habit of adding people that they don't even know! For some bizarre reason, they like to add people whom they've heard of, or has a secondary, tertiary connection to through their first-degree friends. And then once they're added, they don't even say hi. It's like the only reason for requesting those friendship approvals is so that people either know, or can be aware that they are 'friends' with that person, or because they want to see this person's updates or walls, or infos or photos.

OH - and then they comment too on these people's photos that they don't even know of!

I'm like, what - the - fuck?


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely why I try, as much as I can these days, to stay the hell away from Facebook.

Because what they say is true - you are better off not knowing, than knowing.