Monday, November 18, 2013
Everything seems to be condensed, in a nut shell. November is my nut shell of 2013.
Boy A likes me, we were progressing, then I ended it.
I go to R University. I had no friends. I lifelessly commuted.
I moved out on my own. *I dropped a course.
I "fell in love" with Boy B.
I had sex with Boy C. I don't know why he had sex with me though. Why did he? I know why I did.
Landlady unreasonably proclaims new rules.
I discover that I am unable to have casual sex, that I develop feelings and become attached.
New assistant managers don't like me and progressively attempt to terminate my work life. My manager had gone on maternity leave.
Relative A sends me a text after a month of no communication upon moving out.
Boy D keeps telling me that I'm hot and soon after says he has a crush on me three times. Boy D says he'd buy me dinner but doesn't. I eat my Subway sandwich because a woman don't need no boy buying her a meal.
Boy A sends me a text asking if we're friends and starts a melodramatic conversation. I ignore him soon enough.
Boy E reaches out to me. Apparently he likes me. I found him cute in university a month before. He calls me pretty.
Boy sends me a Facebook message asking if I could listen to his problems. He wants us to be friends again. He pleads yet he was as cold and hard as a pebble back in the warmest months. He broke me and now I'm stronger than ever. He says he misses me, he wants to talk to me.
No-no-november is my month.
November is my month. It's mine for the taking.
*In November, prior to asterisk was events that had occurred in October.
Monday, July 08, 2013
I put this up in the second day of exam week.
Did I work like an ant? No.
Was I blessed? No.
But at least I got into the program I wanted and managed to maintain and decent
(although slightly disappointing) grade.
Do I draw well? No.
That's an ant carrying a rock twice its mass, by the way.
Could you tell? Probably not.
You thought it was a winged insect, didn't you? You little untrained-eyed creature.
But I'm so happy that I actually got my first choice.
Ryerson and the world of journalism, here I intimidatingly, and cowardly, tip-toe my way in. (While hoping to hop out on my first chance of acting!)
P.s. I want to know my schedule so badly. But they only start course selections in
mid-August when the other universities open it in late July. Grrraahh!
Monday, June 24, 2013
I clearly remember when I was four and a half years old, around the time I questioned my parents why I wasn't going to school like my brother, that I told my parents what I wanted to become. Three things. "I wanna be a vet, a singer, and a dancer--oh wait, I wanna be a singer then a dancer then a vet." Because I knew that saving animals would be expensive so I needed to make my millions first as a famous entertainer. It's really surprising that I do still love all those jobs to this day. I joined Malay, Chinese, and Tamil dancing in primary school but I haven't pursued that hobby since. I like to sing, I took Grade 11 and 12 vocals and joined the school's choir, staying only a year, until I began my passion of environmentalism which has a lot to do with animals too, I'd say. Also, I volunteered at PAWS in Malaysia, an animal shelter that feeds and contains abandoned or stray dogs and animals. It's a lovely place, do adopt there if you want an animal companion.
Yet now, I've taken a completely different route. I would have never thought I would study Journalism. It's a downgrade somewhat. I wanted to be an actress, to study Theatre or Performing Arts but it sounded risky so I switched my ambition to be a TV hostess or a VJ, but that's really competitive and my eyes wouldn't let me. I have terrible vision and I can't wear contacts and we all know how devil-damned superficial the world is. I'd never be picked to be a VJ with spectacles. They wouldn't want a blind TV speaker and I couldn't possibly memorize all the lines. People have said they like my voice, so maybe I could become a radio DJ? Sounds a little boring to be talking allll day... Plus I hate radio DJs, just give me the damn music and occasional snippets of news and traffic reports. I don't understand people who like and listen into talkative radio channels unless it's clearly for a niche market but so many mainstrean radio stations make too much talk time for their sessions.
Writing, I write all right. Not great, not bad, but it can be improved. And I love learning new things. Perfect. In the news, you cover a wide range of topics; politics, court cases, health studies, crime, global events and what not. I know most reporters specialize in one area while the newbies cover general local stories but I'll slowly accumulate knowledge from all around. I'll become a generalist by becoming a journalist which is a win-win. It's also less looked down upon to be informed of and reporting world news than to be in dramatic arts. Yeah, dignity was part of it. Most people I hear are going into Engineering, Life Science, Medical Science, Health Science, Business Management, Accounting and Nursing. I only know two people in the last two years who went into Drama. The only really popular artsy course I know people will take is something along the lines of Animation; drawing cartoons for TV. Yet I always go back to thinking about Theatre while I'm taking another program and I wonder if I'll end up resentful or if it'll work out in my favour soon enough. A Master's degree in Theatre? Is that possible? I should have done the reverse. But I'm eager to know where I'll go next. To trust in God and enjoy this unplanned adventure.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Everything reminds me of you. A ticket, gloves, a pencil, lipbalm in random places, in useful pockets. Disposable wraps kept to hold you in. A bouquet card wrenched my heart. In between papers in a folder. My body grows colder. My mind wanders, my heart fawning to my logic, "It is love and love trumps all, love suffers, but love triumphs and love lasts through wind and storm."
Yes, we'll weather the weather, whatever the weather.
But say, if it's a tsunami or a hurricane? Say, if it's an earthquake and the ground beneath us splits, separating what was once one into ones?
I think of you, night and day, morning and evening, eating and sleeping, peeing and showering, pooping and studying, in examination, in places of worship, in a cold, dark room, at fun, sunny places; always. I think of you always. So present like air, you can never be anywhere else as constant as in my mind.
A waste of time. I am unminded. I have no holding spot, no eternal place in you, no unforgettable scars, no possible reunion. Once I let go, you will be gone. Forever.
Beyond me. Moving so quickly, so selfishly, so unmindedly...of me. And I am stuck with pieces of you in random places, in useful pockets with a painful heart and welled eyes.