Descriptions & Questions

wool scarf purple IS IT PiNK? soft scratchy HOLES knitted IS IT VIOLET? needles DID IT COME FROM SHEEP? pattern warmth WOVEN furry BLURRY CircleS ARE THEY KNOTTED?

Never Have Too Much F.A.I.T.H.

you know what happens when you have too much F.A.I.T.H.? you lose, big time, and it hurts so bad u feel like that saw just sawed you in half, eh?

i had an overload, excess, too much of faith for the past few years.. that the sun will always shine its light on everything, and even if there was a dark spot where a ray could not reach, one day it too will get some light. that things wud forever be good and there wud be no harm, evil, or badness in this alien-antennaed world. i probably wud have gone my entire life being sweet, innocent and naive had it not been for the very good men i've had in my life so far. they've taught me wat it feels like to grieve. wat it feels like for them to one day just turn around and slap my face hard and say "haha, you're screwed!".

note: if u have the time, listen to "Light Years Away" by MoZella. i love the lyrics and love the song. maybe i might upload it onto this page.

seriously, i put way too much faith in things.. too much of my time and energy. it all goes down the drain, into the sewage, thru the pipes and into whatever type of water body they get thrown into. sometimes i think that i've lost every last bit of my faith and hope. cos seriously.. trusting is never a good thing. when its a good thing, something bad is gonna happen.

i'm turnin into quite a pessimistic little drag. i'm not going to depress you anymore. good night! i'm off to la la land.

i think my steering wheel is broken

it's no use preparing yourself for what might come, cos you never know what would. there's a dozen possibilities what you are bracing yourself for could be.

i thought this out so carefully before i took a deep breath and jumped into the open waters. apparently i hadn't had thought enough. this is starting to look like a lost case now. no matter how much i swim towards the island, i don't think that i'm getting any nearer. i don't know. maybe it's because i'm tired... maybe i'm losing all my energy and strength from focusing on this. or maybe i'm not swimming fast and strong enough? i really don't know. all i know is that i'm tired from chasing things that i can never catch. catching things that i can never keep for long. it's never fair is it? i don't want to feel like a dog anymore because i've had enough of being treated like one.

and just when i thought the sea wasn't so rough, that it was calming down after so many months of endless storms, it is roughing up again. perhaps my compass is broken and i'm going in the wrong direction. or my steering wheel is broken. either that or i really am out of luck.

as yet i need to figure out what i want to do with myself. quite frankly i've lost hope and the eagerness that i used to have. i've wasted all of my energy on people and things that weren't worth of it. dreams that won't ever come true because i have dreams that are far too big for a tiny person like myself. but people say dreaming big is never a bad thing. or is it?

My Mom the Mosquito Murderer

WARNING : the following story contains painstaking details, might be a bit depressing too. readers who are taking anti-depressants, please do not read this post. i strongly advice you to go read something like Cinderella or Snow White. or something about rainbows and butterflies and strawberry flavored lolly pops and cotton candy.

intro:
i actually wanted to write 'My Mom the Mosquito Killer'.. but decided another word starting from 'M' would look better. or perhaps 'The Tale of the Courageous Mosquito' would have also been quite fitting. kindly read on please, this is an intriguing story about one particular hero of the notoriously miniscule creatures that annoy us 24 hrs a day, 365 days a year. and so the story goes like this...

main:
once upon a time there was a fierce little lady, who is 4 ft 10 inches tall. she is mean, she is muscly, she is strong and she is wrong (some of the times anyway). She is... My Mom the Mosquito Murderer! day and night, dawn and dusk, mosquitoes flee from this fearsome lady. "POP!" there goes the life of yet another heroic mosquito who tried to brave the ruthless swatting.

weak and feeble, the poor insects fall one by one onto the floor. some stayed stuck between the fatal silver rods of the tennis racket that had looked so harmless at first, but not anymore. "No!, this was enough", thought a mosquito who was rather huge in comparison to its fellow beings.

eyebrow furrowed - do they even have eyebrows?? - legs tucked in, body in 'bombs away!' position, the determined Mozzie charged at the electric racket, mind made up that somehow it was going to destroy the damned thing once and for all. little did it know, its fate was to be the same as the fellow mosquitoes who had preceded him.

it was as if in slow motion that i saw, my mom's hand clutched around the racket, making a swiping movement in the air, the humongous Mozzie approaching from the other side, then the split-second heart-stopping moment when i thought that it had actually managed to dodge the racket but soon i found out that that was not at all what had happened. what had actually happened was that the insect had come charging at the racket and stupidly banged into it, and as a result had been thrown back by the force of the slam.

the poor thing felt like its puny brain was spinning madly inside its skull. nauseatingly dizzy, it turned back around to face its deadly enemy - and i could hear a quiet buzzing sound. i saw my mom's eyes narrow and slyly look to her left. "have mercy on the pathetic creature", i thought as i realized that she located her next target, but unfortunately thoughts didn't get printed out in the air in a speech/thought bubble. no, they merely stayed inside my frantic mind.

with all its might and what was left of its bravery, the mosquito charged at the ominous implement, sure that somehow it was going to over-come this vicious battle. sadly enough, it wasn't as lucky as the previous time. with a deafening "POP" that rang in my ears even days after that fateful day, i saw the massive arthropod fall lifelessly to the ground. for a brief moment i thought that it was toast , when i saw one of its almost-invisible legs twitch one last time. with that heart shattering move, i literally felt its soul leaving its limp body. there was no more to this fighter than there were of the others.

"and what a fighter he was!", i thought to myself, wiping tears away. he could have inspired many of the generations that would follow, he could have formed his own tiny army of Mozzies, and taught them how to tackle the fearsome, the doomed, the SINISTER RACKET. (NOTE TO READERS: kindly imagine sounds of thunder and the spine-tingling craks of lightening bolts on a very stormy night with ferocious winds beating down on your windows.)

outro:
and there we have it... the story of a true mosquitriot ©, it's determination and courage that had lead it to wage a war with one of its enemies. I shall remember his heroic efforts until the day I die.

~ In Loving Memory of Mosquito - R.I.P ~

We are Strangers within Strangers

we are all strangers in strangers.. aren't we? maybe not so from where i come from.. but certainly in other places..

every face is different.. every pair of eyes has seen a different side to life, has seen the world in another way, and some have not seen at all, some have not heard at all, some have never felt... for they were numb..

Lost

when the rain comes, when the rain goes
when its all clear and nothing shows
light your cigarette,
smoke me up till nothing's left
i'm just a bit of ash in your life

when it's dark, there's no light
you can't see where you're going
but do you know? would you know?
when it's cold, and there's no warmth

i have nothing left
and we both know what is right
we know what is wrong
and we know what we gotta do
we have nothing left
all we had is lost on us

today just seems like any other day
mindlessly i sit and watch it go by
sunlight fades into a starry night
and the starry night fades back into sunlight

its not being surrounded by people
its not being the center of attention
if you can tell the difference between your thoughts and what is real
then it's real enough for me

London Blues

Here we are, going to London in a week's time.. and everything's just messy.

I stammer and I forget what I’m supposed to be saying when I’m nervous. I seriously doubt it won’t happen this time; when I’m faced by hundreds of Europeans with God-awful accents and asking them to repeat their questions because I can’t understand whatever it is that they’re saying. Ok - so maybe not God-awful accents - but still... hmmm.. come to think of it they are kind of attractive. And of course, I’ve never been a big talker so I’m not so sure how I’m gonna manage. *DEEP BREATH*

Ok, so this afternoon I was walking around going into tourist shops on a brainstorming session with my Samoan co-worker. Coming up with great ideas... but at this last minute I'm not so sure how we can put it all together.

This is getting depressing... day by day... I'm not sure if I'm cut out for this kind of job. I don't want to be the leader because I'm perfectly happy with working behind the scenes. Some people just do not understand how I can possibly want this. Not everyone is a born leader (note: research shows that first born child is usually a leader and this is true as my sister is such a role playing person and I'm not. And I'm the youngest).

I know at the beginning when you are starting a career and trying to build it you really have to give your 150% but I think I have and I think I'm just draining out right now.

The problem with me is once I feel that I dislike something, there is no way to turn back and even try liking it. But I'm trying so hard to convince myself right now... Whatever it is... I hope I come out of this.

Mulsifid

You may be wondering what in the world “Mulsifid” is. It is similar [spelling wise] to ‘emulsified’, yet when I made up this word in 2004; ‘emulsified’ was not even in my vocabulary. Well it actually was but it relates more to the Chemistry subject and therefore I chose to push it out of my mind.

The Founding of “Mulsifid”

It was a hot sunny day, (date unknown but in 2004) and I was stuck inside the class. I’m not sure if it was Chemistry, or Dhivehi or some other stupid subject I was forced to study, but I had my sweet little Barefoot diary (date will be known when I look into this little book) on my desk and kept on furiously scribbling utter nonsense into it.

“… a notch higher to the 70th Armenian Mulsifid.” Was what I wrote in one of the 3 little pieces that starts with an “Om…”. (Those 3 little pieces will be posted here too). While writing these pieces, I imagine those Indian dudes with long white beards that sit cross-legged with the middle finger and thumb touching each other saying “Om…” and meditating. Those of you who have watched ‘Goodness Gracious Me!’ would know exa-cata-caly [exactly] what I’m talking about.


And so, there we have it, how “Mulsifid” came to be.