I have no clever title for this

O Faithful Readers ! I hath returned.

Truly life has been a whirlwind since ns ended – of tutoring, part-time jobs, driving lessons, goingouthavingfun and of course dance. It’s been a long while since the last post, and in all that time I’ve actually gotten to this New Post Page several times, though each time I never know what to write. Suffice to say life has been most fulfilling for me in many ways.  I never imagined I could be this happy – this thankful for life, but I am, and I want to continue making the most out of it.

School is going to start soon, and the timeline for float building/flag/rag stuff looks really hectic. I remember I used to really love the feeling of nearly tumbling out of the bus home near midnight and trudging home, utterly drained but satisfied at a full day of activities – I hope I’ll survive a few weeks’ worth of such nights. My class of dentistry coursemates looks like a fun bunch, despite the fact that my OG’s special identifying item is pink FBTs – hurray! After Freshmen Orientation Camp the photos posted on Facebook shall be my undoing.

Protected: maybe in another life we’d get it right;

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meh.

that year in my life when i first heard it i thought snow patrol’s run was an amazing, amazing song – somehow all those great songs in my playlist have been pushed out what with my um hiphop collection and of course, because i am no longer an emo teenager (y) but i have recently come across leona lewis’ cover and i cannot stop listening.

what a weird time to be blogging! – but it seems the very concept of time has become blurred. it wasn’t so long ago when i made sure to plan every weekend one week before to wring every possible hour out of my time outside camp, but since leaving the army i’ve done hardly anything other than while my weekends away watching downloaded episodes of various tv shows or just reading. no plans to work right now – still waiting for school to start and hoping one of the schools i’ve applied to will call me up for relief teaching position. i’ll start scrambling for work if that falls through.

i just wished i was doing more with my life – like i thought i would, when i was still waiting for this freedom – and yet i don’t want to do anything to disrupt this comfortably cushioned existence.

re: charades
adrian: *shivering*
justyna: COLD
adrian: *shivering*
linus: very cold !
adrian: *still shivering*
justyna: … fucking cold?
us: ahahahaha
word: shivering

~

word: vibrate
me: oh shit um, uh
me: *vibrates*
adrian: electrocuted!

re: taboo
word: whisper
adrian: GHOST -
justyna: WHISPERER
us: … wtf

the only time I ever think of you is when they tell me I never got over you;

After a while I hope your reflection is still what my heart wants to see, when time puts everything into perspective — our perceptions a little more focused and love’s timing grows a little clearer. I hope that I will always remember that it isn’t about running after what you don’t have, rather it’s about wanting what you already have, because what was then won’t always be the same now and wanting something new will only keep your heart searching forever. So, it is in letting go of what once was — and only then — can you find yourself holding on to something new.
… I hope I will never forget that it was all about chasing you that still keeps time with the beating of my heart.

they can take the places that we said we will go;

It’s been three years –
One could say ‘it’s already been three years’, or ‘it’s only been three years’ – and that one word would change everything. I don’t really know what I want to say, but it’s clear to me now that I’ll always feel this way.

they can take the music that we’ll never play

I’m still sorry, but I’m still here.
It does not make sense; I know you’ll take no comfort in knowing that I continue to pay for my crimes, and I fear that I will continue to repent for as long as I live. I am weary of this weight I thought I had cast off so long ago.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t need you to forgive me but I would beg you to, and even then I don’t deserve it. Do you blame me as much as I blame myself?
You said hang on.
And I would – for five minutes, for an hour, for a few more days, for another year.
You’re gone. You really are gone.

but they can never have yesterday.

was it worth it –

O HAI it has been long indeed since my last entry here but I just never got around to blogging because – well I wonder if anyone actually reads. Nothing going on in my life, of course, since I’m still in the army BUT NOT FOR LONG HAHAHABBQ. Freedom hangs like the severed testicles of eunuchs in the Chamber of a Thousand Scrotums and all that stands between me and that day of reckoning is a three-week stint in Taiwan. By stint I mean spending everyday visiting the canteens and watching grey’s/desperate/will&grace/whatever my friends are bringing in their ipods.

In other news, my penchant for perfection (yes, cursed army, you may take my freedom but you will never take my alliteration) is causing immense grief. What started off as a hobby and something fun has become something that I… one might say – obsess over; which is nothing wrong, of course, but sometimes it haunts me that I’ll never be good enough. Obviously it doesn’t matter that I will be stuck at the level of mediocrity since my life won’t be depending on it but what the hell I want to be good at it.

Oh I want to be so very good at it.

How Poems Are Made / A Discredited View
Alice Walker

Letting go
in order to hold on
I gradually understand
how poems are made.

There is a place the fear must go.
There is a plce the choice must go.
There is a place the loss must go.
The leftover love.
The love that spills out
of the too full cup
and runs and hides
its too full self
in shame.

I gradually comprehend
how poems are made.
To the upbeat flight of memories.
The flagged beats of the running
heart.

I understand how poems are made.
They are the tears
that season the smile.
The stiff-neck laughter
that crowds the throat.
The leftover love.

I know how poems are made.

There is a place the loss must go.
There is a place the gain must go.
The leftover love.

most of what I remember makes me sure

and I hurt for the world that could have been yours.

do the things that you always wanted to / without me there to hold you back -

I’m too scared to look through the archives of unpublished text because I may not be strong enough for the guilt: I am still uncertain if it was the right thing to do to let go and to stop trying to be a friend; and my hope that you have found someone who can be there for you may simply be atonement for abandoning a burden that I could no longer bear.

you could be happy; I hope you are.

could have been your one shot

7:48: omg my sis is giving birth and i’m stuck in camp
7:56: okay damn weird she’s already given birth that was fast
me: slippery birth canal is slippery
me: have they decided on a name for this one they can call him hayate
*later*
stef: what does hayate mean
me: the fast one
stef: ahahaha