The O.K. State

Stupid notes people write making me feel ill. Things people do piss me off. Unnecessary wall posts.. Just to get attention. Just to make a point. Just to boost their ego. And worst of all, people who are stupid. When did I become this bitter, I ask myself?

Before I go any further let me put down the meaning of the word 'stupid', since I seem to use it rather often.
Definition of 'stupid' : stubborn. narrow minded. hypocrite. People with no reason for being alive. [the latter is cruel, yes, but I just needed to write that.]

NOTE : i wrote this ages ago... its been in my drafts all this time and i thought i might as well just delete or publish the post, and then i thought i'd go for the latter one. so here goes.

1. Crocodile leather.
Forgive me for being bitter. Cold. Callous. People think I'm bubbly, cheerful and giggly. Sure I'm all of that but not 24/7, that would be just insane. But then I have my really detached side. Sometimes I let that side take over.. I guess everyone has days like those.

2. Strange. Eccentric. Weird?
Forgive me for wanting to do things outside the "norm". But hey, who would you classify as a normal person? Someone who functions like a pet? Or better/worse, a pet who performs chores? [I didn't know what to pick from better and worse]. What kinda job do you classify as normal? Wearing a suit and tie or in my case, some kinda formal clothing and sitting at a desk 8 hrs a day?

3. Sex. Not intercourse - gender.
Oho! I hate being a girl. The things I'm deprived of. The things that I do and people feel I should be deprived of. Well not deprived exactly but they just wish I wouldn't do. What is their problem? Wouldn't they be happy to see me happy? Am I not allowed to indulge in my freedom? So it shouldn't be called freedom anymore. More like "depressdom". And no its not a real word. And speaking of the heading of this paragraph, we don't ask to be brought to this world. And because of this, don't you think we deserve to be given a chance to choose our preferred sex?

4. Pursuit for happiness. Lost cause.
It's either you get it or you don't. There's no in between. You think there's a middle but, unfortunately, there isn't. And if u think 'content' means being happy with what you have [and not wishing for more], it actually means being satisfied in a limited way. Therefore, you pine for something. You long for that which is missing. You want that void to be filled. I guess that is the middle after all. I'm going to name it "The O.K. State".

You can run for it, fight for it, plead and beg for it, but happiness doesn't give out passes that easily to watch it shine in all its glory. Gotta be damn lucky I'd say. But it all comes with a price too.

'Fine' is a word used frequently. Is a word abused, more likely. And with this I shall end this note.

Sure this may not be so note-like. More are coming up though, entirely for your viewing and reading pleasure.

Solitary Solitaire

Definition of Solitaire:
1. (n.) A single diamond in a setting; also, sometimes, a precious stone of any kind set alone.
2. (n.) Any species of American thrushlike birds of the genus Myadestes. They are noted their sweet songs and retiring habits. Called also fly-catching thrush. A West Indian species (Myadestes sibilans) is called the invisible bird.
3. (n.) A person who lives in solitude; a recluse; a hermit.
4. (n.) A game which one person can play alone; -- applied to many games of cards, etc.; also, to a game played on a board with pegs or balls, in which the object is, beginning with all the places filled except one, to remove all but one of the pieces by "jumping," as in draughts.
5. (n.) A large extinct bird (Pezophaps solitaria) which formerly inhabited the islands of Mauritius and Rodrigeuz. It was larger and taller than the wild turkey. Its wings were too small for flight. Called also solitary.


Quite interesting as how there are two types of birds also named solitaire. They must have lived lone lives. Obviously with their lonely partner - or partners.. threesome?

Sure it gets tiring wen all you have is your 10 hrs-a-week-job, too many demanding friends, only coffees or bike rides to while away your time. I'm trying to learn to cook new stuff now besides pasta/spaghetti/noodles/various types of omelets. And new desserts too.. I only know biscuit pudding and French toast. I once tried to make a blueberry cheesecake and it tasted so bad but still my family ate half of it to make me happy. Like I am only 3 years old.

It's frustrating when loneliness eats you up. To put on your happy face but it's not your face anymore, its just a mask. And when nothin, anybody does to please you, actually pleases you. When pessimism and paranoia eats you up. When it all feels like a crazy circus that you're stuck in and you can't get out of, and the clowns keep dancing around till your head is spinning and you're convinced that you really are going crazy.

SO. what do you do?

This is probably part 1. if there's a part 2, I'll post it titled Solitary Soitaire II.

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..