I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along
-Falling Slowly, Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova-
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Pieces
A fragile mind is always teetering on the very edge of madness.
Today, my new colleague of barely a month or so made an observation about me that hasn't been made in awhile. Perhaps it is true, gay men are more astute after all:
You're too nice. You're a doormat.
I suppose it's true.
Despite my layers of cynicism...
I WOULD LIKE to be proven wrong once in awhile.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take a person's statements at face value.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to trust someone so completely, I could be spared the worry of being lied to, betrayed and backstabbed.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to be taken for who I am, and not have to worry about being compared with someone and found lacking.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take someone just as s/he is without worrying about ulterior motives.
But that's not how it works, isn't it?
A young wise friend of mine once said: there's no such thing as true altruism in this world.
And oh! What a jaded thing to say from one so young. But as time goes by, I'm more and more tempted to just, one fine day, pack up everything I have, go into a jungle up in the mountains, and never be seen again.
Because at times, animals make better company than people, no matter how fascinating people can be.
They lack that self-absorbed egocentricism that people have, and which I have had frightening brushes with, in the not-too-distant past. It makes me wonder, at times, what I've done in a past life (if that's your kinda thing) to be such a magnet for people who ultimately end up using me as a psychological/emotional/mental bedrock. And when they think they're about done, they prepare to toss you like a ragdoll.
Thxbai.
After all, what does one do with a well that has run dry?
There's a fine line between fear and awareness.
There's a fine line between genius and madness.
There's a fine line between melancholy and depression.
There's a fine line between confidence and pride.
There's a fine line between solitude and loneliness.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
There's a fine line between life and death.
Thank you for the catharsis.
Randomness.
Today, my new colleague of barely a month or so made an observation about me that hasn't been made in awhile. Perhaps it is true, gay men are more astute after all:
You're too nice. You're a doormat.
I suppose it's true.
Despite my layers of cynicism...
I WOULD LIKE to be proven wrong once in awhile.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take a person's statements at face value.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to trust someone so completely, I could be spared the worry of being lied to, betrayed and backstabbed.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to be taken for who I am, and not have to worry about being compared with someone and found lacking.
I WOULD LIKE to be able to take someone just as s/he is without worrying about ulterior motives.
But that's not how it works, isn't it?
A young wise friend of mine once said: there's no such thing as true altruism in this world.
And oh! What a jaded thing to say from one so young. But as time goes by, I'm more and more tempted to just, one fine day, pack up everything I have, go into a jungle up in the mountains, and never be seen again.
Because at times, animals make better company than people, no matter how fascinating people can be.
They lack that self-absorbed egocentricism that people have, and which I have had frightening brushes with, in the not-too-distant past. It makes me wonder, at times, what I've done in a past life (if that's your kinda thing) to be such a magnet for people who ultimately end up using me as a psychological/emotional/mental bedrock. And when they think they're about done, they prepare to toss you like a ragdoll.
Thxbai.
After all, what does one do with a well that has run dry?
There's a fine line between fear and awareness.
There's a fine line between genius and madness.
There's a fine line between melancholy and depression.
There's a fine line between confidence and pride.
There's a fine line between solitude and loneliness.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
There's a fine line between life and death.
Thank you for the catharsis.
Randomness.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Pages
It's like I'm living a novel.
Within one page, there's an emotional high and an emotional low in the next paragraph itself.
It makes you go: wtf just happened?
Do I know? No.
I wonder why, somedays, myself. Why am I doing this? Why go to such trouble?
There goes my zen-ness.
Then I remember why. I wanna feel.
So I ask you: Don't you wanna feel too?
Embracing, the thought of tasting,
My mind's elaborate my heart is racing.
I'm waiting to escape in,
A strange reality a page I wanna paste in.
Why don't you hold my hand?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna, what I wanna feel, feel!
Surrender, I won't defend ya,
Translation overload return to sender.
Are you mistaken, I won't be taken,
I really want it but I promise I'm not fakin'!
Why don't you hold my hand?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna feel, what I wanna feel!
Feel, feel, feel.
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
I think I wanna, don't you wanna, uh-huh, yeah yeah!
-Rogue Traders-Don't You Wanna Feel-
Within one page, there's an emotional high and an emotional low in the next paragraph itself.
It makes you go: wtf just happened?
Do I know? No.
I wonder why, somedays, myself. Why am I doing this? Why go to such trouble?
There goes my zen-ness.
Then I remember why. I wanna feel.
So I ask you: Don't you wanna feel too?
Embracing, the thought of tasting,
My mind's elaborate my heart is racing.
I'm waiting to escape in,
A strange reality a page I wanna paste in.
Why don't you hold my hand?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna, what I wanna feel, feel!
Surrender, I won't defend ya,
Translation overload return to sender.
Are you mistaken, I won't be taken,
I really want it but I promise I'm not fakin'!
Why don't you hold my hand?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
What I wanna feel, what I wanna feel!
Feel, feel, feel.
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?
Feel, feel, feel.
I really wanna, don't, don't you wanna?
Don't you wanna feel what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel baby?
La la la la la la la
Don't you wanna feel, what I wanna feel?
I think I wanna, don't you wanna, uh-huh, yeah yeah!
-Rogue Traders-Don't You Wanna Feel-
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Aging and Strange Things
I was about to write: I'm turning 27 on Monday, but I ended up typing 25 instead :P
So what does that tell u, eh? :P
Well, anyway, I digress. I mean to say, I'm turning 27 on Monday. And last night, as I was talking to a friend I've not chatted with in a LONG LONG LONG time due to both of our schedules, I noticed how the topic has changed. Instead of: 'So how is everyone? Any gossip on who's hooking up with who?' it was 'So who is getting engaged/married?'
Eeekkkkssss.... don't get me wrong, I wish the happy couples all the best and all. But but but... the very topic kinda gives me the hives.... I'm allergic. Kinda. See, it's not like I don't wanna get married, it's just that... the idea just seems kinda far away.
And it just seemed to underscore the fact that... and yes, it IS a FACT as I was telling his friend: MY OVARIES ARE FERMENTING :(
Like I said: Well, unlike the sperm, which is constantly reproduced and replenished, my eggs have been there since embryonic stage, and I KNOW it's AGING... I'm wasting good quality eggs and all.... but but... I'm just a little reluctant at the moment to give in to the maternal urges.
I know it's a little selfish, but, there's yet so much to see, and babies.... changes everything. So does getting hitched.
Yes, I'm more than just a little commitaphobic. Yes, it's a strange confession coming from someone who owns a cunt. Yes, in a way... I AM a cunt. Sighs. See, I just feel that I need to get my life a little more in order.
I need a job I can see myself doing.
or
I need to have a disposable income.
or
I need a disposable nest egg.
THEN I'll be ready to procreate.
and spawn little me-s.... :P
When the time comes, be afraid. Be very afraid.
Why? The following post will illustrate this to the max :P:P:P
**
Here I am... and there's a temple performance outside. Well, it's been there for the past 2 days, ever since I got my bitchy ass over here.
What's my problem with it?
I mean, ok, you wanna have a revelry session, but OMFG it's SO FUCKING LOUD. And SO FUCKING LOUSY. Simon Cowell would die and flip and cringe in his grave!
There's a singing dancing session outside weiiii...... Here are my points:
1. It's fucking LOUD. Okay la, if it's good. It ISN'T.
2. Okay la, if it ISN'T good, if the chicks performing were decent. They AREN'T.
3. Okay la, if they AREN'T, if they're HOT. They're NOT. NOT. NOT. NOT.
It's a temple thing, for fucks' sakes..... The way they're dressed.... It's illegal weiii.... I'd be forgiven if I thought they were TEMPLE WHORES.
HELLO??? I remember commenting about how I walk in coffee shops in shorts and baby tees and get stared at by lascivious old men who'd tell their very daughters that getting dressed like that is asking for rape, with my girlfriends before. BIGOTS. But they have NO QUALMS at staring at nubile young things and grinning lasciviously.
Well, these laohiaos are staring and dancing at the nubile young things dressing themselves up like harem girls dancing for a balding pot-bellied old king, dancing lasciviously in sequined bra and panty set thingies baring their mid-riffs from bust-line to hip-line with matching fashion disaster boots and flimsy transparent scarves or feathers draped around their hips at a TEMPLE event.
Tell me that is just so-not-wrong.
If it were a strip club, I'm cool with it. Hell, if it were a CLUB, I'm cool with it. But this! TEMPLE event! In public! With little kids looking on and thinking it's cool, or it's okay to get whistled at/to whistle at underaged girls dressed like whores. Aiyaiyai.... Wrong la. Just wrong.
It's just that... it's just plain bigotry. Fullstop. Double standards. And please, what are we trying to tell people here?
So what does that tell u, eh? :P
Well, anyway, I digress. I mean to say, I'm turning 27 on Monday. And last night, as I was talking to a friend I've not chatted with in a LONG LONG LONG time due to both of our schedules, I noticed how the topic has changed. Instead of: 'So how is everyone? Any gossip on who's hooking up with who?' it was 'So who is getting engaged/married?'
Eeekkkkssss.... don't get me wrong, I wish the happy couples all the best and all. But but but... the very topic kinda gives me the hives.... I'm allergic. Kinda. See, it's not like I don't wanna get married, it's just that... the idea just seems kinda far away.
And it just seemed to underscore the fact that... and yes, it IS a FACT as I was telling his friend: MY OVARIES ARE FERMENTING :(
Like I said: Well, unlike the sperm, which is constantly reproduced and replenished, my eggs have been there since embryonic stage, and I KNOW it's AGING... I'm wasting good quality eggs and all.... but but... I'm just a little reluctant at the moment to give in to the maternal urges.
I know it's a little selfish, but, there's yet so much to see, and babies.... changes everything. So does getting hitched.
Yes, I'm more than just a little commitaphobic. Yes, it's a strange confession coming from someone who owns a cunt. Yes, in a way... I AM a cunt. Sighs. See, I just feel that I need to get my life a little more in order.
I need a job I can see myself doing.
or
I need to have a disposable income.
or
I need a disposable nest egg.
THEN I'll be ready to procreate.
and spawn little me-s.... :P
When the time comes, be afraid. Be very afraid.
Why? The following post will illustrate this to the max :P:P:P
**
Here I am... and there's a temple performance outside. Well, it's been there for the past 2 days, ever since I got my bitchy ass over here.
What's my problem with it?
I mean, ok, you wanna have a revelry session, but OMFG it's SO FUCKING LOUD. And SO FUCKING LOUSY. Simon Cowell would die and flip and cringe in his grave!
There's a singing dancing session outside weiiii...... Here are my points:
1. It's fucking LOUD. Okay la, if it's good. It ISN'T.
2. Okay la, if it ISN'T good, if the chicks performing were decent. They AREN'T.
3. Okay la, if they AREN'T, if they're HOT. They're NOT. NOT. NOT. NOT.
It's a temple thing, for fucks' sakes..... The way they're dressed.... It's illegal weiii.... I'd be forgiven if I thought they were TEMPLE WHORES.
HELLO??? I remember commenting about how I walk in coffee shops in shorts and baby tees and get stared at by lascivious old men who'd tell their very daughters that getting dressed like that is asking for rape, with my girlfriends before. BIGOTS. But they have NO QUALMS at staring at nubile young things and grinning lasciviously.
Well, these laohiaos are staring and dancing at the nubile young things dressing themselves up like harem girls dancing for a balding pot-bellied old king, dancing lasciviously in sequined bra and panty set thingies baring their mid-riffs from bust-line to hip-line with matching fashion disaster boots and flimsy transparent scarves or feathers draped around their hips at a TEMPLE event.
Tell me that is just so-not-wrong.
If it were a strip club, I'm cool with it. Hell, if it were a CLUB, I'm cool with it. But this! TEMPLE event! In public! With little kids looking on and thinking it's cool, or it's okay to get whistled at/to whistle at underaged girls dressed like whores. Aiyaiyai.... Wrong la. Just wrong.
It's just that... it's just plain bigotry. Fullstop. Double standards. And please, what are we trying to tell people here?
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