It's Been A Year?

It's weird. I still visit this space now and then but I've become an audience to my own blog hoping an entry will appear. This uncertainty that does not stimulate the need to write saddens me. And with this continuous doubt or perhaps something that even myself cannot comprehend, a year has passed. 16 entries for 2012 is really pathetic.

I wonder do I only write when I am not at peace with myself. That I am not a fervent blogger who blogs about his daily routines. I think I've just answered myself. How ironic.

So it's a good thing then? That when there are no entries, I am a happier person?

Will you miss my absence?

When I Think Of You

"It's a pleasure meeting you. What do you do for a living?"

Sniggered. "I do everything but nothing stays."

Raising an eyebrow, "Oh, such as?"

"Managing a restaurant, coordinate fitting for models, garment styling, emceeing for events, designing corporate identity for companies, posters and such for F&B outlets, business cards for entrepreneurs, and a whole lot of others just to make ends meet."

"Sounds fun and exciting! How do you find the time to do so many things? Isn't there something you are especially good at?"

Blank stare. "Of course! I am especially good at everything but nothing."

Puzzled face. "Er... that sounds like what a typical businessman does."

"No, I am the greatest lover alive. Businessmen have no emotions."

"That's not true, I run my own company and I am so in love with the generous profit I make."

Rolls his eyes and looks away. "Diu nei lah! Chin chin chin!"


(當我想你的時候 - 汪峰)

Congestion Of The Brain

I often thought I could sense the feeling of darkness as it stole across the morning sun rushing towards me. Overwhelmed by a sorrow so poignant, I felt in all candour a great release when I welcome it. As though I am misery itself, a dark and morbid melancholy that has been following me like a black dog all my life. I would be truly uncomfortable if I wake with a sense of euphoria every morning.

Demise Of CP

Soon, there won't be a need for this anymore. It's pointless. Really.

Repressed Passion

It's like I've been robbed of my blogging privilege. When inspired, blogging becomes unavailable and when I am allowed, nothing encouraging comes to mind. How effin' ironic!

Took up a 2-month contract job and ended up with an advance increment and permanent employment offer. Is this really what I want after being so disgusted with working on a daily basis, countless late nights and the appalling notion of using Adobe software again?

I should have plenty of qualms but I am pleasantly surprised that I actually love my current job, even if it means going back to work over the weekends. Perhaps I've learned that without monetary assistance, I will never be able to achieve my dream of leaving this country for good.

Till something better comes up, I am glad that work has kept me from thinking of my indefinite longing to be with someone. Yeah, I am a hopeless romantic. It's evident in most of the songs I put up here.

Cinta oh cinta! Where Art Thou menyorok? 


(全世界失眠 - 陳奕迅)

To All Devotees Of Love

Currently out of words. So just listen to me sing instead k?


(善男信女 - 蕭敬騰)

Learn How Happiness Can Be Painful

He said nothing
even when mouth wide open.

Obviously we are done,
nothing good comes anymore.

We fake it so well.

Why do we all change? Why will there never be constant loving? Why must I put up with this fight no matter how rough and defeating it gets? Is it all because I have this once-in-a-lifetime existence? A chance to make it right? What is right and what is wrong? I simply loved you and it all changed anyway. Now we are nothing but friends who still remember to call when it's our birthday. That's as good as it gets. Memories. And the strength to create new ones with that newfound attraction. The same strength that will be weakened by past failures. Of despair and regrets, of hurt and betrayal, of pain and suffering.

But I can honestly say, it's all worth the torment even if genuine happiness means a fleeting moment. I simply cannot spend the rest of my remaining days fearing pain. It is an act of a coward who is in denial that with every cut, will we then trickle blood of happiness. Profound it seems but it does make sense. It's called the pain of happiness. A funeral, a childbirth, the ultimate experience that comes at the apex of the most pain for sportsmen, and the crucifixion of Jesus.

So don't hide because you fear pain. If you do, you're only denying yourself from real happiness. You will only cook up an extremely bitter soup that you don't even know you're capable of. A self-destructive, self-inflicted time bomb.

KA-BOOOOM!!!

In other words, fucking reach out your hand, call my number and date me okay?