Playing With Fire.

Just admit it.

I should be stoned for neglecting my blog for this long. Maybe it's because I haven't had the need to post in a while. Maybe it's because I've been able to hide my depression and distract myself with good company and little bit of relaxation. Or maybe I have just been too damn lazy to come up with something substantial to talk about (like this?)

Nah.

It's Christmas Eve again. I can't even begin to grasp just how fast time has flown by me. I still remember me posting my last Christmas Eve message and what it was all about. How I had my heart broken and my mind twisted from all that shit in that year. How I had tried to turn it all into a good thing, because I learnt a new lesson. And how those memories will last me a while.

But this year I might want to talk about something slightly different. I will actually remember this year for being magical and just totally godsent. I never actually thought that this change in my life would arrive so soon, but I guess just like everything else, the things you want arrive at your doorstep the minute you stop thinking about it. And I was so close to letting it slip away from me.

I don't think I would actually be here where I am now if I hadn't cleaned up my act, and my life. If I hadn't made that single decision to exterminate those parasites from myself, I might have actually failed alot more people than I can imagine. And to this moment, I am so thankful I managed to make that decision. I am so thankful I decided to actually put some effort into my work, to focus on what is important, and to never neglect those always there for me.

And here I am now. Posting miles away from where I used to be. Living my life in a new city, a new environment, and a new atmosphere. Turning my dream into a reality.

I thank God for it so much.

XXX

But I have a knack for spoiling good moments. I was born to whine, people, so leave me be. I try not to be blunt about things, but I sometimes just can't help myself. I won't say who I am talking about, but it shouldn't matter to the story.

I read on a blog that this girl, living somewhere very near to where I am from is getting married to this (apparently) sweet and not-so-bad-looking foreigner who loves her to death. Well and good. Bless them and their future together. But I just can't understand the attraction. No offence intended, but she has one of the most terrible accents and just general language issues imaginable. Her eye and hair colour isn't even real and she hasn't got a pretty face and if the way she blogs is anything to go by about her personality, she seems somewhat caustic.

But why? Why the attraction? I still don't understand it. Post after post, conversation after conversation, argument after argument - and I still haven't found an answer. I want to be attractive, I want to be desirable, but there is something about me that seems to just turn people off.

And yeah, I have body issues and face issues and general appearance issues and personality issues and height issues and speech issues and just-about-anything issues, and I don't give a fuck when you tell me to stop talking about it. Just because you say stop talking about it and questioning it doesn't mean it's just going to disappear. This whole self-esteem situation has to come from somewhere.

Oh, I don't know - maybe I was spoilt rotten as a child, maybe it was the bullying in primary school, maybe it was the building myself back up from it in high school, maybe it was the whole situation a year ago. Maybe it was just the plain old fact that I haven't actually had a proper relationship before.

You tell me that it's not all that it is hyped up to be, while you're in one with no intentions of leaving it. And even if you did leave it, you wouldn't mind the next one that came along now would you? And how on earth can you tell me that a relationship isn't that fantastic? Come on, are you fucking telling me that there are people out there who actually dream of NOT being in a relationship? That there are people out there with no intentions of meeting someone and growing old together?

That people actually sign up to die alone surrounded by your 47 cats?

Exactly. Which is why that argument is shit.

I honestly don't know where I am going with this post. I should have stopped ages ago when I was talking about how I worked my ass off to live here and almost before I started talking about that girl who is going to get married (honestly, bless her because I am genuinely happy for her) and live happily ever after. But I decided to continue and mash two completely separate ideas and emotions into one skanky post.

Maybe it's because it's 2.26AM and my battery is just about 34% charged.

And I need you to answer me.

Cheers.

Evolver.

Because I'm not feeling this.

I had to refresh my blog twice just to make sure I wasn't accidentally clicking on some post from the archives because I cannot believe it's been that long since I have posted anything. It's like putting your diary away under your bed for so long, that you have to blow away the cobwebs from it when you finally open it again.

Some people can live without blogging for a while, and I can understand that. Your blog is just your way of telling the world you are still alive, or bragging about your sexcapades, or making sure your readers understand how much money you have, or beauty, or how some people just adore you.

Very few people use it as an escape. As a break from reality. As a time away from your problems. As your companion in solitude.

And some of us just like to talk to things that aren't really there.

I should have posted just before getting the train home, but I was never really sure when that would be, even as I was boarding it. And now I am here, three months down the line, looking back at the time that was.

Throughout the term, I never thought I would miss anybody or anything like I do. I miss the people that let me trust them, and those who I can rely on to keep me happy. I miss the things I do on a lazy Tuesday (Wednesday, Thursday and Friday) and the places I go to, to keep myself busy. I miss this new part of life that I have received, and the excitement my new home has given me.

And despite all this, there is still a sadness. An emptiness. A void within my depths I am desperate to fill. I then question myself, what is this urge, this necessity to fill this hole? Why can't it be filled with just about anything? Why I can't I leave it be? Why is it there in the first place?

Answers. So many of them, and not one that completely satisfies me. I thank those who have attempted to give me a plausible solution, but none of them fit the puzzle perfectly. They are always either too weak, too broad, or just too silly. And 9 out of 10 times I have been misunderstood as needy and quite literally, pathetic, however tactful you all may like to be.

And then there is the other question? Are my insecurities secretly stopping me from achieving what I need? Are all these questions holding me back? Will this all disappear only after external validation?

Do I need someone else to prove to me that I am better than myself?

Well, perhaps. Perhaps I do care what other people think. Perhaps I do like to ask myself a million idiot questions before I can figure out which direction I should head in. Perhaps I am driving myself mental because of the very people I am trying to impress.

But then again, who bloody doesn't? Who doesn't ask for external validation? Who doesn't need someone to tell them that they can be who they want to be? Who doesn't need any sort of motivation to keep themselves confident? Unless you're totally cocky and so bloody up your own ass, you would be inhuman if you don't.

And that is who I am. No one's personality is absolute and neither is their well being. How I feel about people is relative. I compare myself. I want to know what she has that I don't, and vice versa. I want to know what I need to do to be better than myself. I want to know what makes you want me.

And then the problem will be settled. I'll do it. I'll change. I'll morph into something different to achieve happiness.

And if that fails on me, the world shall drink to failure.

Cheers.

You Never Know What You're Missing.

Until you have it back in your life.

My blog always comes second to a stockpile of homework with nearing deadlines. Personally, I can't be fucking bothered to do my work until I absolutely have to, because nothing comes second to my peace of mind. If I'm upset, nothing gets done. And when I'm happy, I blog about it.

Seriously, nothing really gets finished (or even started) until it mindfucks me beyond my strength.

Speaking of which. I have been happy lately. I have been getting happier ever since I made this big move in my life, and I am pretty pleased at myself.

Or not. It's a big fat lie.

I have merely been psyching myself into thinking that everything is getting better for me. I am trying to convince myself I have been getting total satisfaction from the friends I have now. They make me happy, yes, to an extent (and I am still plenty grateful for them.) But why do I wake up missing someone still every morning? I still yearn for someone to make me feel glad about where I am now, and truly appreciate it.

And you never really know how happy you can be until it happens to you. I don't usually document my daily events but this just has to be said.

Once he told me he was going to be in town for the weekend, I erased the rest of the week from my mind. Nothing else was going to be more important than his visit here. And it must have been god-sent because I remember waking up that very morning, missing him dearly. I guess this is what it means to be really close friends, and nothing more. And of course, a million and one things had to distract me from the excitement of my future meeting - including massive parties and birthday dinners with hot singles. But there was no way I was going to allow myself to not be there.

And it turned out to be greater than I thought it would be. The first thing I saw when I stepped off the train was the Ritz; and it was then I knew that I was going to enjoy myself immensely.

I had two things working hand in hand with each other, and one would not have worked without the other : the environment and the company. We walked for ages up and down Oxford Street, and this was where I fell in love. I saw Christmas lights and black cabs and shops and shops and shops. The biggest Foot Locker, the biggest Zara, the million H&Ms, the biggest Topshop, the biggest Debenhams. And it was the crowd of people. The intense of crowd of thousands out and about on a Friday night, walking past you in a mad frenzy, running in and out of shops carrying a ton of carrier bags, dining in expensive Italian joints, sipping Starbucks while they hail a London cab.

Any hint yet?

No?

For goodness' sakes, I saw a homeless man as I walked out of the tube station.

If you haven't gotten it by now, you should slap yourself for me.

It was the entirety of it. The rush of madness. The throng of people pushing past you. The throng of fashion-forward people pushing past you. The last-minute shopping frenzy. The people walking hand in hand. The people making out. The rush of traffic right next to you. Those hot Europeans out for a night on the town. My outfit I had taken ages to put together. My 5-inches that were killing my feet but had essentially made my outfit work. That Eggnog Latte in my hand. That swanky Italian restaurant we were going to eat at, with the most amazing tiramisu I have tasted in my life.

The high I felt was greater than anything manufactured in a lab, or in a back alley, could have given me.

And the company was fabtastic. I haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for a long time until last night. I'm talking - no emotional guards, no judgement, no miscommunication. And it was a brilliant exchange of thoughts. I felt so much comfort from being able to say anything I wanted and knowing that the person listening would understand it the right way.

And he sure knows where to take me to see the sights.

When the evening was over, I just wanted it all back. I wanted to go back there to the same place and relive the whole thing. But in a kick back into reality, I realised that I can have so much more than what I have now. I can feel so much happier than I am now. There is so much more from me than what has been given to me now.

And no one should dare tell me not to dream big. Just because you're a loser doesn't mean I have to go down with you. I am going to dream as big as I want to, and one way or another I am going to make it. I will make sure of it.

Thanks for coming here to meet me; I needed it.

And we all know where I'll be doing my Christmas shopping.

Cheers.

If I See A Man Waving.

Does this mean I'm not alone?

Once again I have my work piled up to my eyebrows and I am sitting here, desperately trying to sort out my feelings as if the solution was imminent. Talk about total idiocy married to perfect procrastination.

Yes, it's the feeling again. That missing feeling. When it's the only thing that could bring your day crashing down. When it's the only thing that upsets you when the times are good. When it's the only thing that causes those stormy clouds over your head.

When they are the only thing you want.

But no, it isn't who you think it is. I tend to be able to miss at least 5 different people in one week consequently, mind you, and we shall not underestimate the power of my insanity. This time it is someone I am allowed to miss, and it is someone I am allowed to reveal my feelings to. Someone who keeps moving away from me at the start of every week, and quickly returns at the end of it.

Someone I need.

And I know that in less than a month I would be able to spend as much time as I can with them. I would not need to return to my solitude and my empty room and my despair once the weekend is over. I would be able to leave my worries behind here and the things that I want to be confused with can lay here under my bed until I return.

But oh gosh, a good month away from myself.

That must be a relief.

For now, the person I thought I missed I miss no more - to my relief and partial disappointment. Because I can move back into my shell now, where I was not vulnerable, and I can start to think again of all the things that make me happy. And the things which I like to have around me to keep me satisfied and content.

But the missing feeling? Oh. Well as long as I'm human, it's always going to be there. I am always going to want to miss somebody. I am always going to want to long for companionship. I am always going to want someone to hold me in their arms and make sure that I am okay at any point in time. I am always going to need someone to fill that space in my heart.

That space in my heart.

Cheers.

Go On.

Film the world before it happens.

The workload is still as heavy as it can be, and most of the reason is because I only work hard once I've procrastinated and the other part being that I feel the need to blog so much.

They don't realise why I need this blog. And they don't realise what my blog means to me.

I don't talk about what I did today, I don't talk about which friend binge-drank and puked herself silly. I don't talk about how I made my own dinner last night. I don't talk about which expensive restaurant I went to with mummy. I don't talk about mummy. Heck, I don't even talk about my friends. I don't talk about happy things. I don't talk about people that make me happy. I don't talk about anything pretty or peachy.

What's the goddamn point if none of that means anything to me?

I just realised something. I am in a constant process of analysis. Everything you do, and everything you say. Everything I do, everything I say. Everything that happens around us. I immediately take it in and process it into something that should not be.

Thoughts.

And because of this, it sits in my head as a thought. Waiting to be used. Waiting to be worried about. Waiting to be reprocessed into memories.

So multiply that one thought by a million and watch my brain explode.

But I can't help it. I can't help seeing beyond what happens around me. I can't help try to figure out the reasons why people do things. I can't help but wonder if it's their personality that controls them, or some horrible experience that haunts them, or whether the two influence each other in some way.

I can't help but think if it's their mother who told them what wrong things to do.

So that is why I don't see the point in talking about what I did in my day. Because there is a reason why I did what I did in my day. There is a reason for what I said and who I spent time with. There is a reason why I kept secrets from them. There is a reason why I didn't. There is a reason I miss them at the end of the day, and why I don't.

So why can't we just talk about that? Why can't we just spend an entire post talking about our feelings? Why can't we just spend a few posts on why we hate the way we think? Why can't we spend a whole blog on how much we hate ourselves for thinking so much?

That's exactly what we have done.

And that's exactly what you'll torture yourself reading.

XXX

Is it wrong to miss someone for no other reason than you enjoying the time spent with them? Is it wrong to miss someone because they make you a little more optimistic about the future? Is it wrong to miss someone who makes the time seems alot less depressing?

I think it is very wrong.

But I can't help it.

For one thing though, I need to be proud of myself for keeping this feeling totally platonic. I am glad that I am not missing them for the worst reasons. But I am not glad that I still miss them. Because this means that I have formed some sort of attachment to them. And forming attachments can never be a good thing unless there is a 100% guarantee - when there really never is.

But I do miss the time spent with you. I like our teasing remarks and our gossip exchanges. I like that I can look forward to something in the week. I like that I could potentially trust you with my secrets without having you judge me.

Though I can never be right. I could possibly freak you out so much that you would find it excruciatingly difficult to hang out with me. I could possibly reveal so much of my life without knowing a thing about yours. And I could most capably destroy this thing that I miss.

So help me help myself.

Cheers.

Tell Me Who You Want Me To Be.

So I don't fuck this up.

Speaking of the beautiful art of fucking up, here's beautiful art.

Her Silent Silhouette

I took one look at it and I was sold. I don't even think an explanation is worthy of just how captivating it is.

Turns out he's an aspiring artist from the UK by the name of Daniel Conway and the rest of his work mainly features robots and gas masks.

Nothing wrong with that at all.

BrokenDawn

Reaching Into Limbo

In Sight of Apocalypse

See? Nothing wrong with that at all.

Cheers.

The World Of Magic.

Because your real life is tragic.

There was a reason I started this blog, and an even bigger reason why I call it Twisted Tragedies. And yes, it is because I like to tell my readers about chocolate and romance and friendship and how the world spins on love.

Note to self : International anarchy is not massive world chaos.

Note to self : I have no idea what I am doing.

This static I am floating in will get the better of me. One of these days it is going to swallow me up and I will find a nice comfortable spot on its sticky wall to stay permanently. Or I could just blog about it right now, in hopes of finding someone capable enough to save me.

Or bothered, for that matter.

There were six people seated at the table in front of me. But they weren't human. They were fashion hybrids - who look human but ooze more style than the entire House of Chanel during Fashion Week. And out of this group were two individuals who looked like they pioneered wearing clothes. The girl had a sheer burgundy off-shoulder sweater over a black tank top, tight black jeggings with pointed stud detail at the knees, 6-inch black ankle boots and a black feather bolero jacket. And the guy had on a grey hoodie, black leather jacket, black skinnies and Dr Martens. She had her brown hair in a braid and he had his long black hair loose.

And if they hadn't inspired me enough, the way they behaved with each other did. It was their romance. Granted, they did step outside for a smoke but it was the way they did it. One running out holding the hand of the other, and both leaning against the wall in a loving cuddle. The next second they engage in a deep kiss while their hands are protectively wrapped around each others' waist.

All while dressed like they just stepped off a runway.

And I sit here at the other end of the restaurant, watching them. Observing them. Being incredibly jealous of them. And suddenly being so inspired by them. I see their movement in a frame by frame motion of a steady camera, each one dramatically capturing a different emotion within them.

And that's what I want. That excitement. That vigour for life. The way you get up every morning to do what you want to do and love to do. The way you walk past people with that smile across your face. The way you can't stop thinking about that one person, and they can't stop thinking about you. The way the little things in life stop upsetting you. The way the sunlight seems to follow you everywhere you walk.

The way I need to feel.

But the way I don't.

I suppose impatience has taken over me, because I have only had one month on my own, although it seems like it's been eternity. But I didn't expect things to kind of come to a stop around me. People have stopped being happy for each other, people have stopped wanting to know each other.

People have stopped pretending to remember you.

But people have also been getting warmer. A little closer. A little more comfortable. And it would be wrong for me to say that I have not experienced some solace, or even some protection from this. And it would also be wrong for me to say that this situation is going to last forever. The truth is, I am hoping it will last a very very long time. But that is never the case. I am going to say something to fuck this up. I am going to do something that will make you angry, or suspicious or even fear me. I am going to destroy whatever we have.

You need to realise what exactly I want from you. I want to support you in all your romantic endeavours, I want to be proud of you, I want to be a shoulder for you to cry on. Because someday I am going to need that too. And I hope that you are the right person I should be asking this of.

But until such time I know I am going to be worrying about whether I have you on my team (also known as my one-man army) or if you're just here for the ride. I am going to drive myself mad hoping that I have been the best person that I can. And I really really hope I don't fuck this up.

Cheers.

Divine Intervention.

I want to live my life from a new perspective.

Right.

I don't really have a specific theme for this post, or a specific worry, or a specific flaw of mine to conjure up, believe, and convince all of you that it's in fact contagious. Instead, I have a few random ideas, all of which I am going to attempt to squish into one colorful post (as purple as it can be.)

There may be side effects.

It's one thing to worry about not having anyone to rely on, and it's another thing to worry about when you do. As painful and torturous as the worrying is, it never stops you, and you never stop it. And when you finally have someone you think you can rely on, the worries transform into something you can't fathom, but it still hurts you just as much.

What if you're wrong? What if their impression of you is totally different from what you think of them? What if you don't seem to find what you saw in that person in the first place, later on? What if what you thought you saw never existed?

What if it's just the person you've been needing?

And you're worrying that person away.

Worries could destroy everything we have.

XXX

I'm turning this whole thing around to something that will most definitely lighten the mood a little bit. I haven't had a fashion-related post in a while so here goes.

Trend alert! I'd much prefer talking macrotrends because that's really all that matters. Quit fussing with the idiot details - everyone would just turn out looking like an army of ... Idiot Microtrenders.

So I have noticed a quick shift from fun, frilly, youthful miniskirts to elegant pencils and A-lines. The only inference I could possibly offer for this change is the state of the economy. When everyone had money, we decided to splash colours on our clothes and rip them up into frills and tassels. And when the economy decided to crash, burn and die on us and get rid of our jobs, we decided to put on our Give-Me-Work skirts.

Ah, but don't be fooled. Pencil skirts can be very very sexy. I should know - it's my new obsession. Us curvy girls just look better in them anyway.

Another obsession :

Bright red lipstick.

Can I squeeze in one more?

Garnier Fructis Surf Spray.

For sexy, salty, curly hair. Guaranteed.

Last one, now :

MAC Tinted Lip Conditioner.

Tints like magic, and tastes like chocolate. It's sticky enough not slide off your lips but light enough not to have your hair stuck to it. And you don't notice the tint, until you put on some more lip stain and realise you look like a tramp that overdosed on lip stain. It's as simple as that.

Cheers.

The Razor.

In the hands of your heart.

It's been a little over a month and they say it's a miracle I have already assimilated. Maybe it helps that I have some form of family here - some form of warmth, connection. Maybe it helps that I have been raised to speak a little better than most. Maybe it helps that I am addicted to adventure and live off all the new things I could possibly get my hands on. Maybe it's because I hate being in the constant motion that I have been in all this while. Maybe it's because I have wanted this so much for so long - and now that it is finally here I am having a hard time appreciating it.

Maybe I am living a dream that isn't going to end soon.

I nearly published a third-rate post today that should never even have been on my records in the first place. And I realise why.

I have lost a sense of direction. Again.

Remember that it is literally engraved in this blog that I need a goal to move through any obstacles I may be facing. And I seem to have either accomplished it, or forgotten where I left it last.

I am in the middle of an unfathomable workload, I am having my weeks flow right past me, and I can't seem to find anything that could function as an anchor to hold me down where I want to be. I keep looking towards virtual goals that aren't even in my near future, to make me feel better - but those dreams are so far away, they may not even develop into anything more than a spark.

Although if it doesn't develop into anything more than a spark, I will kill somebody.

And there isn't anyone here that could save me from myself. Granted, I am so grateful for the ones who are giving me a chance to be myself, and holding on to the little hope I have, and for those who love me. But I have been told by the most reliable source that I can't keep looking for what I want to find; it has to come to me like an angel wing from the sky.

(I'm sitting here thinking : As often as an angel wing comes from the sky.)

I am as worthy as I need to be, and someone someday will see that and take the opportunity. But until then, I have to keep my focus on something else with a stronger guarantee, and with certainly more returns.

The Economics essay kinda sorta fucked me up, yeah.

And we're back at square one - what focus? Where is this point of definition that I need to direct my energy to? It's either invisible, or non-existant or it's both and seriously playing with my head.

Until it decides to show, I have got to give myself a break. Absorb all that I can from the good things life is giving me, and deflect the bad energy it's leaving for me. And be so very thankful I am not totally unwanted.

So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus

In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?

Cheers.

You Should Know How To Make Love To Something Innocent.

And leave your fingerprints out all over me.

2 years ago. Purevolume. I was in love. Pop pop popping beats and slutface lyrics that simply turn you on.

Two years later, I am still hot for 3OH!3.

Before I begin :

Common Misconception Number One : It is not fun going to a show on your own.

Common Misconception Number Two : You will not meet the band unless you paid someone with love.

It was probably the coldest, skankiest, wettest day in Brighton. I was half-finishing my mofo essay and half slicking on thick red lipstick (which bytheway I am currently obsessed with) and baby, I was out the door.

I had two hours to kill. WHY? Based on past experiences, and The Concert Commandements, you always have to be excruciatingly early for the show. Even if you have to spazz your time away, even if you are alone, even if it's cold, skanky and wet.

BE EARLY.

I get to the venue and it's the emptiest place on the street. What do you do if the venue is the emptiest place on the street? You order a cheese panini and a hot chocolate and read a newspaper.

I start to regret. Regret going alone to the show. Regret not having my closest friends with me. Regret not bringing a magazine to read. Regret not being able to call someone and rub it in their face that I will be seeing 3OH!3 in a couple of hours. Regret not being able to-

'OMG. IT'S NATHANIEL!'

My spazz moment is now interrupted. Five schoolgirls are standing outside the cafe, jumping up and down and screaming blue murder. Some of them are waving cameras in the air and dancing. If this is what I stopped spazzing for then ...

A six foot six, skinny man with long dark hair is towering over a group of screaming teenagers across the street.

How long have I been spazzing to completely ignore Nathaniel Motte standing across the street, picture ready?

In a flash, I run out with my camera, jacketless, and shove it in a girl's face.

'Please, can I get a picture with you?'

'Sure.'

Oh, sweet mother of love. You know how you see hot people in pictures, and when you see them in real life they aren't all they are made out to be?

Yeah, he is a god.

And here I am trying to take picture after picture of him, to get one that wasn't blurry, but I guess I am the only one in this town with skeelz.

'Another picture? Wow, I am going to have to start charging you for it.'

Can you not be any more gorgeous.

As I return to my cold panini, this random guy with a very unmistakeable New York accent asks me what show I've come to see. And me being a total bitch, seeing that he isn't as hot as I would like him to be, looks away after answering that one question.

After this comes the one hour of standing in line in the cold. The freezing sea breeze. The chilly raindrops. The fucking annoying schoolgirls who seemed to have forgotten their trousers. The fucking annoying schoolgirls who were shouting out 3OH!3's songs to themselves and randomly dancing to it.

As far as I'm concerned, I should be the only one allowed to do that.

The doors open. It wasn't really the mad rush that I had expected but it was mad enough. The front line had already been filled (Damn!) and I had to make do with squeezing in behind them.

The first band up was called Bamboo Shoots, and this is basically where I regret being a bitch. So much.

The lead vocalist was the guy that tried to chat me up.

Idiot idiot idiot idiot. What if he fell in love with me and took me back to New York? What if his hot now-that-I-see-him drummer fell in love with me and took me back to New York? What if he knows Gabe Saporta?

The band is pretty new but I didn't particularly take a liking to their music. It was a little too non-3OH!3, non-screamo, non-Cobra Starship and yes, you get the picture. Maybe it was also because I didn't get to listen to them well enough because most of the time I was avoiding getting squished into people's backs or trampled on by a mosh pit or dragged left and right by fucktards who needed to get the fuck out of there and go fuck themselves.

I nearly dragged a girl down with me, because I lost my balance. And all this by chavs who desperately needed to mosh to a non-mosh band.

And oh yes, I have always wondered what chavs buy condoms for, seeing that they clearly don't use them.

They blow them up and throw them around at concerts.

And it is right about now, where I make my heart-wrenching decision to leave the second row for the back because I just could not stand the crowd. I can handle it if they surge forward or some bitch tries to elbow me, but certainly not when I am being dragged around and have my face pushed into someone's sweaty neck and nearly end up in a mosh pit.

The DJ then comes out. The smoking hot DJ Sean Smith. With his smoking hot basslines. With his smoking hot tracks. He was awesome.

And finally. Finally. 3OH!3.

By this time, I have managed to secure a place three rows from the stage. A little too far to get my hand touched, but close enough to get a water spray. And to see that awesome body rap his top off.

Nathaniel and Sean are awesome performers. They have fantastic coordination on stage - who stands where and when, they know how to get the crowd pumped up and they basically look fucking amazing on stage. And baby, he may look like a stick in the videos but his biceps were working it up there in the lights. Amazingly tall, amazingly sweet, and amazingly gorgeous hair.

Simply Fucktastic.

Oh, and the performance was good too. [Insert wink here.]

So all in all, it was a great night. I completely forgot that I was alone because the show was that good. I took so many great pictures and I have memories to last me a lifetime.

Now I'll do the Helen Keller, and talk with my hips.

Cheers.

Who's That Girl?

I'm not her.

I am forgetting how to deal with the things life snowballs at me. It's getting harder and harder to actually focus on something that I want and need and prioritise towards achieving it. I'm getting side-tracked by everything imaginable, including myself. Something always seems to be in the way of my plan, even when I don't intend for it to be there.

When things are good, I need to meddle with it. Question it. Swing it around like a boomerang and see if it comes back to me. Because the good things that come to you, aren't always as they seem. But - for god's sake - it's depressing that I don't know how to appreciate it for what it's worth.

And when things are bad, I think to myself that everything is going according to plan.

Leave home, pretend to work hard, and fall in love with someone who doesn't remember my name.

And what happens when things finally start looking up?

The questions start to pop up again. And they don't stop till the good times go bad, where I can wallow in my natural state of despair.

My problem has pretty much solved itself out, but here I am already coming up with a new one.

I know there is no us. I know there was never anything I could do. And yet I hoped that somehow we could make it happen. And now you've given your heart away to her. It should be better for me, to see you happy. And to see me alone.

And people ask me why I am psychotic.

Cheers.

Brown Eyes.

It's just a silly song about you.

The one person I need to talk to right now is unavailable and totally unaware of my feelings. So I am left dictating my feelings to an empty box. An empty virtual box with an address out of millions. I had always wondered what would have happened if the global web network decided to untangle and self-destruct.

Why, my emotions would run astray - infecting others with insanity.

And you think you know exactly how you feel until you attempt to put it in words. Just then it will occur to you. Nothing you feel makes sense. It is all just a cloud of colours that you think is a huge burden on you, until you actually try to translate it into language.

And after that massive failure, you will laugh at how crazy you really are.

But it's just as funny that you continue to try.

Because I want to tell you all how I am feeling. I want to tell you that I am okay. And I desperately want to lie to you at the same time. I could probably accomplish that.

She told me to get over it. I told myself to get over it. And Myself told Me that I would. But I don't know how I could possibly trust so many people at one time. So many things hang on the line. That constant uncertainty is my biggest issue, and all other things pile on top of it. Once that foundation is cracked, the rest of the bricks topple down.

But it's just your luck that you had the best contractor in the world.

And I want you to tell me too.

Tell me how you feel. How you want me to feel. Talk to me. Help me help you. Get me out of this fucking mess I've created.

But why should you then?

It's not your fault I'm schizophrenic. It's not your fault I have been plucked out of the middle of nowhere to now grow up and live my life alone while surrounded by so many aliens. Aliens with different habits, different styles, different attitudes, different personality defects. Aliens who aren't like me.

Aliens who don't like me.

And finally, the paranoia has a chance to kick in. It causes the thoughts that painfully sever my memories. I hurt myself everytime I turn around to watch my back. I hurt myself everytime I think you want me too. I hurt myself everytime I want you anyway. I hurt myself crossing the odds to find you. I hurt myself when I need to impress you. I hurt myself when I want to be accepted by you. I hurt myself just thinking about you.

I'll understand if you don't want me anymore.

But it's always going to be your brown eyes.

Cheers.

Play With My Heart.

Because that's all you're getting.

The truth is, I could fall for someone for any reason. Because they're nice to me. Because they're nice to other people. Because they are so fantastically gorgeous. Because they are good-looking and nice to me. Because they are cute and nice to other people. Because they are funny. Because they are hot and funny. Because they are smart. Because they are tall. Because they have nice skinnies. Because they pay attention to me. Because they laugh at my third-class humour.

Because I can't help myself.

I despise the way I am for this simple reason. I have no control over my emotions and my instinct started malfunctioning a long time ago. And there is no cure to how I feel.

I can't tell you to stop playing with my heart, because you aren't. I barely know you. Or rather, I do. You're just like me - I'll say one thing and do another. I can't be taken seriously. I can't handle the pressure. I don't want you to stick to me.

And here I am, taking off that noose around my neck. Allowing you to embrace me, to warm me in the cold, to inhale the scent of my hair. And finally allowing you to leave me. Dreaming of you, for nothing.

Boy, you are good.

Cheers.

I'm Sure You're Always Going To Want Some.

More.

"What I need is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, me attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction" - Chuck Palahniuk

Facebook is a mind reader.

Cheers.

The Broken-Hearted Girl.

A permanent state of mind.

Sometimes you don't always get what you wish for. You might say that some of us never get what we wish for. True - it's always the other person you watch with intense envy that has everything that they could ask for, while you sit by and watch as your dreams hang over your head like steel bricks.

It's always that other person with the excellent grades.
It's always that other person with a partner to look out for her.
It's always that other person who gets along with every new person she meets.
It's always that other person who charms everyone who sees her without even trying.
It's always that other person who has travelled the world.
It's always that other person with a beautiful story.
It's always the other person with a group of friends who love her for everything she is.

It's always that other person who loves herself for who she is.

It's always that other person.

That other fucking person.

And then you think to yourself. Why am I different from her? Why does she have it so easy? Why can't that be me?

Because you can't. You're sitting here thinking about the whys and the hows when the answers are right in front of you. She's prettier than you, she doesn't make a fool of herself, she has the most beautiful personality, she loves everything unique about other people.

And she's perfect.

You? Why, your flaws are aplenty. Look at yourself - you're ugly, you lie about yourself, you lie about other people, you try so hard to get people to like you, you grovel at the sight of what you can't have, you make ridiculous statements that are completely uncalled for, and you basically bore us with your mere presence.

It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain
As if a good thing ever could make up for all the pain
There'll be no last chance, I promise to never mess it up again
And now you're gone there's like an echo in my head
And I remember every word you said
It's a hard thing faking a smile when I feel like I'm falling apart inside
And I am helpless sometimes, wishing's just no good
And you don't see me like I wish you would

I remember this song.

It was the beginning of my troubles.

Cheers.

Lying Is Your Latest Passion.

Once you've had me, you'll always come back.

There's alot to be said about patience. And there's alot to be shown by it. And just as much to show how hard it is to have it.

It is a virtue, but how many of us are actually virtous? How many of us are actually willing to defy the boundaries of self-control - just to see what could come out of it.

What could come out of waiting for a star to fall.

Pixie dust, maybe. A scatter of intergalactic debris, perhaps. Or maybe a dream that you once had that was never realised.

And then we are slapped back to reality. The subject : me, one and only. The dilemma : the total disregard for and lack of patience. The outcome : potential self-destruction (which is always the answer to my problems, isn't it readers.)

And when things don't come my way instantly, I start to think. Why isn't this happening to me now? What am I doing wrong? What is so wrong with me that nothing ever seems to click into place my way?

Me, me, me. This narcissistic approach to problems ultimately leads to my own implosion. A mental breakdown, if you will. The fierce wave of thinking that leads to an internal malfunction.

Finally, when the dust clears - it will still be thinking.

And we arrive at the crux of this very issue. I just never seem to be good enough for anyone good enough for me. It's always someone else who gets the privilege of sweeping him off his feet, or watching him fall in love (or like, easy now) with them, or monopolising his dreams until he forgets the meaning of sleep. While I stand by, watching the romance unfold, desperately trying to hide my emotions with a mask of contentment.

Ah, I know that feeling all too well. The I-Like-You-Alot-But-You-Like-Her-More-So-I'll-Just-Be-Happy-For-You-While-I-Find-My-Gun ...

... feeling.

Also, the Everyone-Around-Me-Is-Taken-Who's-Going-To-Take-Me feeling.

And finally, the I'm-Pretending-To-Not-Care-And-You-Believe-Me feeling.

I don't think this affected me as much as it did before. Maybe it was because I was promised the situation was going to change. Or I had persuaded myself that this dry spell might not go on forever. Or maybe I was just too darn stupid.

Because if things had wanted to work out, it would have showed me something by now. Someone would have come my way and lit it for me so I could see in the dark. Someone would have lifted me up from the ground and dusted off my worries. Someone would have taken me into the rain so they could see me bare. Someone would have held me tight to protect me from what I could live better without.

Someone would have come for me to save me from myself.

But no one is near. No one is even in sight. And as I arrive at this conclusion, I am digging a deeper void in me.

Thirsty for attention and hungry for love.

Permanently.

Cheers.

Paradoxial.

I'm feeling a little paradoxial.

Why do I feel the need to own everything I set my sights on? Why do I incessantly desire something that may as well not exist? Why do I feel possessive over what was never mine and can never be?

Why am I so fucking stupid?

And it all starts when I see the best in people. All you avid readers are probably feeling deja vu here because essentially all my 'food for thought' posts are based on how I view people. And it's a chronic disease of mine that I choose to ignore the flaws so blatantly and glorify the good as if I was advertising.

Noble?

Fuck no. Try naive.

So stupidly naive that I can believe the words of fools and liars and devils just because I see that little bit of good in them. How could I have been let loose in the world when my judge of character is so prematurely developed? It's sticky situations like this that make me question myself and drill at my walls to see if any ounce of maturity dribbles out of it.

But your flaws upset me so. I force myself to look at them and observe them and analyse them as if I was piecing apart my heart. As I rival my natural instinct, I am crying inside, begging for an alternative punishment for my sin - that is, simply appreciating you for the good that you are.
In the battle of mind versus heart, the mind is always supposed to have the upper hand.

But then again, the heart exists.

Is it capable of fighting a ghost so powerful it can master full control over itself? Usually, no. The heart is quick in its action, while the mind dawdles in its own meticulous strategy - forever calculating. If the Fates are forgiving, the strategy sets it straight in time. And when they are not, the heart leads you to emotional suicide.

And here we are. Putting the good and the bad side by side to see which one is stronger, while I mindlessly (it's in battle) assume that you could be better than this.

But a man is just a man. And a schizophrenic is just a schizophrenic.

Who realises neither.

Cheers.

I've Got Alot To Say To You.

Could I spend my whole life pretending?

It is inevitable that people run away from me.

EITHER

I move ever so close to them because I feel a certain ... feeling deep down and I somehow translate this burning desire into something legible across my face. And so they fear me and run away.

OR

I am such a rotten bitch to the ones who show a little something to me because they are not who I ask for. And so they call me a rotten bitch and move along.

And I am quite sure that the laws of karma are working their magic to link the two scenarios together. Even more so because I believe in it and I think it seems to believe in me.

What is the big idea about me getting all worked up for nothing? At one point in the day, I feel like a total crime scene because my life has just seemed to fall apart in front of me and the people who usually help bring me back to sanity (what sanity?) are a little bit further away. And at a completely different hour, I feel on top of the world as if my ego has just been carressed by Gabe.

Bytheway, I saw a Gabe Saporta in front of my eyes earlier. All I wanted to do was to go Bianca on him.

And the feeling just goes on. My infatuation. My longing. Me missing all the wrong things. You might think that perhaps you can validate all this chaos because I must know this person really well and we have known each other for quite some time.

BUT THAT IS NEVER THE CASE WITH ME.

Within a minute of meeting you, I am head over heels, spun around on my collarbone, ready to leap over electric train tracks for you. Here I am, spotting all the good things I can find about you, blatantly ignoring the bad. And you haven't even moved the world for me yet.

I really hate these 10-minute infatuations that are happening to me. No, scratch that.

Infatuations after 10 minutes.

And it doesn't help that you do everything right.

Cheers.

*Thank goodness for you. Eight hours behind everyone really doesn't help communication.

We Are Not Who You Think We Are.

We're worse.

Here I am, from across the world typing furiously at my computer (my own!) in a house full of sleeping occupants. Fancy. It's only been 4 days and I have been through enough drama to last me a lifetime. There are emotions flooding my system, things holding me back and things pushing me away. People calling me here and dragging me back there. And something anchoring me down, whilst fighting everything else.

Instead of throwing it all out on this page, I think I'll dwell on it for a while.

Fall in love a bit and then ignore you.

Cheers.

Love Long Distance.

And I will thank you for your cooperation.

I still wonder how on earth I come up with these titles and title-links.

A quick post here. I am running bag and forth (pardon the pun) filling up the respective suitcases with memories and travel buddies. Each of them are now topped up to the brim, and I am not planning to stop there. I'm going past brim, up and away.

I've just got to say that I hope that this shall be one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, as is promised. Hopefully this event sets the stage for my future - em ... literally.

To all those I'm not taking with me, I virtually am still there, just a contact on a screen I suppose, but digitally there nonetheless. Please take care of yourselves, because you've all got it in you to be the best you can. Don't take shit, but please give it freely.

And don't, please don't, bring yo' drama here.

Cheers.

*PS. Next post : From the other side of the world!

I Wish He Told Me.

Why it has to be this way.

Speaking of which, I wish Bradley Cooper would tell me what makes me so attracted to him.

He isn't conventionally attractive and he has some pretty terrible angles and yet something about him is so charmingly sexy. So naughty. So I-am-alive-in-this-picture-and-visually-stripping-you. Maybe it's that part Italian in him (and part Irish, for your information.)

I have a thing for Latinos, in case you haven't noticed.

Oh, Jen sweetheart, what have you let go off. He's gone all Renee on you now.

Cheers.

Shades of The Orient.

The most beautiful thing I ever saw.

Breaking News via Twitter

Gabe Saporta says

fuck yeah UK! love you. c u soon!

Fingers quadrupled crossed that I will have the money and the time to be right upfront where he can spot this hot mess, grooving so hard to his voice.

XXX

I love love love The Nanny. Don't ever take that away from me; I'll kill you. And I never thought I'd say this - but Friends could potentially take a backseat in this race.

XXX

Why does everything that has happened in the past few days remind me of leaving to start a new chapter in life? To an extent, it thrills me. The mere prospect of it all is just exhilarating. Here I am, waiting to dust off bad memories and start anew halfway across the world.


And then, I'm a little upset. A little bit of nostalgia is holding me back. I can't help but think of all the things I have experienced these past years. Growing up, maturing, evolving. And meeting people who really do care for me. And those who don't.

And still these mixed feelings seem to have done nothing for my nasty habit of procrastination. 3 days and counting and I'm bumming around, enjoying myself immensely. Maybe it's because it's the first bit of rest my head has been able to feel in a long time. The first time in a long time I don't have to worry about things that are simply flying past me.

I've got to start getting my act together, being responsible for myself and my actions, and actually remembering things that I have to do.

Oy. Good luck to me.

From now on, I can't rely on childish assumptions or think that everything is going to be okay even if I don't do anything.

And that money doesn't grow on trees.

Cheers to a new beginning (there was never an ending), to a new chapter in my life, and good health and prosperity.

(Anyone else got booze in their hand?)

Cheers.

Something About You.

Drives me away from here.

A mashed potato of things. Brace yourselves.

1. I am currently listening to The Cure, just so I can validate the hype. By the end of this post, I shall revelate.

2. There is something to be said about blogs unlike mine.

Abandoned (I shall not speak too soon.) - Maybe the author is caught up in love.

Looks like a dictionary - Ah, too much to say. A camera might help.

Looks like your first picture book - In desperate need of a dictionary.

Looks like a menu - Will eventually need a gym.

Dedicated to love and its substitutes - Needs to abandon the blog.

And what about the ones that resemble a gallery of Fashion Week polaroids?

LOVE.

I think there is a switch in the back of my brain that gets turned on by pictures. Fashion pictures. Pictures of models painted head to toe in makeup. Video shots of runway shows. Backstage footage. The whole hype of fashion zooming past you.

It's like a virtual world. Full of colour, velocity and electricity. I zips me straight to Fashion Week.

Because of the horrible timing, I will not be able to make it for SS09/10 in London. But rest assured, you can book my seat for AW10/11 right now.

3. Cobra Starship did not win Best Pop Video, and yes Gabe, I agree that Miss Spears should have at least showed her fat thighs at the VMAs.

BUT number one, she was obviously going to win. And number two, welcome to Showbiz.

Didn't anyone break the rules down for you, my love?

4. New York Fashion Week has made me so happy these days. GO Zac Posen! I will find pictures, and I will post them up very soon.

5. 5 days and counting. I haven't even taken apart my room yet.

6. The Cure is nothing major. I'm sorry Cure fans ( ... Lady Gaga ... ) I really don't see the hype.

By the way - fake blood?

MAYJAH.

Cheers.

The Hills Are Alive.

With drama. The way I like it.

To all those who make it a point to abstain from all forms of drama, I think you should also maintain a distance from this post, because it shall very soon ooze drama. I am going to talk about one of my unexplained addictions, particularly the one to the MTV series The Hills.

I love MTV.

Anyway.

The Hills. A show built on the immature relationships of rich American teens who somehow manage to have everything. I mean, from the amount MTV is paying them to have cameras strapped to their asses, I stop asking why. But then again, could you really have people following you around, snapping up every snide comment you make in passing or taking a jab at your outfit when you didn't have enough time to dress or showing you where your boyfriend really was last night?

The life of a celebrity, my dahlings. Deal with it.

So let's break it down. The cast :

Lauren Conrad

Audrina Patridge

Lo Bosworth

Heidi Montag

Spencer Pratt

Stephanie

Justin Bobby

Brody Jenner

Jayde

Stacie

Kelly Cutrone

Lauren is the centre of the story. Lo and Audrina are her friends. Heidi and Lauren used to be best friends. Heidi and Spencer are dating. Stephanie is Spencer's sister. Audrina and Justin Bobby are dating. Brody Jenner and Jayde are dating. Stacie is the bartender. Kelly Cutrone is Lauren's boss.

THE DRAMA.

Lauren and Lo have always been friends as far as I know. Audrina and Lauren weren't always friends because someone started a rumour that Justin Bobby was cheating on Audrina with Lauren (Not true.)

Heidi and Lauren used to be best friends, but Spencer started a rumour that Lauren had a sex tape with her previous boyfriend Jason (Not true) and Heidi didn't stand up for her best friend, because she was so in love. Heidi has so far been trying to get back into Lauren's life but the latter isn't allowing that to happen.

Also Spencer flirted with Stacie at the bar and Cameron, Stephanie's ex-boyfriend sees this and tells Heidi, leading her to call Spencer on the spot. Spencer gets mad and punches Cameron. Heidi and Spencer now attend couple therapy. In this whole relationship, Spencer has so far destroyed Heidi's relationship with her sister, her mother and Lauren.

Stephanie is Spencer's wishy washy sister, who can't really tell right from wrong. She fucks up the internship Kelly Cutrone gives her at People's Revolution and then later blames it on Kelly to her face. In the previous season, Stephanie went out with Doug, who was seeing Lauren at the time. Stephanie is also trying to get Lauren to forgive Heidi, but ends up pissing Lauren off instead.

Brody and Audrina have something going on, while Brody is dating Playmate Jayde. Audrina sleeps in Brody's bed and Jayde gets all bitchy, not to mention she drinks like a fish. Brody eventually chooses his girlfriend over his friend.

Kelly Cutrone is drama-less. She is just stone, cold and sober. But from what I see, also a good boss.

And now that Season 5 is over, Lauren is leaving. Now this saddens me so, because she is the only smart one in the group who actually makes sense when she decides things or when she argues. She has her reasons, and she stands by them. And she doesn't slut around.

Season 6. Some chick called Kristin Cavallari is replacing Lauren Conrad. And according to reliable sources, she is a right bitch. She and Lauren hate each other because they were both running after the same guy blah blah blah Kristin is apparently a real bitch, because she played dirty.

We'll see how this plays out as Lauren walks off with the brains of the show, leaving the bitch behind.

I really do advise people to watch this show. Because for all the various types of relationships people have entered, endured and ended, The Hills has seen it happen and it will show you just what each outcome will mean for you. So it's no point having your friend tell you the same thing over and over again just to have you brush it away as 'just another opinion', when all the answers you want are on this show. How to stand up for yourself, how to be strong, how to know that he's not for you, how to know he is.

How to know if you're just doing it because he loves you.

Really, people.

Your friend will thank you. Or buy you the box set.

Cheers.

Is Anyone Lurving You?

Cos I'm lurving you now.




My first ever pair of skinny jeans at such an affordable skinny jeans price. I've never been able to wear skinnies without looking like a local stereotype (particularly a retarded anorexic motorcyclist who really has no capacity for anything more intellectually-stimulating than an easy fuck.)


So because I've got wide hips and ... an ass, skinnies don't like me. But it all turned around when I found this anti-discriminatory pair just waiting for me to pick it up and fall in love with it.

The pair pretty much looks like the picture above, except that at the bottom it has this edgy zippers.

My seemingly insatiable zipper obsession, yes I know.

MEANWHILE.

What is with me blogging about my latest buys? Have I really got nothing to say? Or maybe it's that burden of guilt resting on my shoulders because I kinda sorta killed my fashion blog after two posts. Which is really dead by the way, in case you forgot to notice.

Or maybe I am just so excited that I am actually moving and shaking the fashion world in my own little way. By choosing statement pieces that scream something to me in our own little Statement Piece Language that no one else understands. And afterwards Fashion Detectives translate this and flash-bulletin it to the world as the new and wonderful trends.

'Youz thinkz I amz vonderfulz?'

'Ohz zanks youz, Statementz Peez.'

Cheers.

She's Too Young.

To be losing control.

I moan for a lot of little things. Little little things that shouldn't affect me but do. Things that don't even occur to other people as being problems.

And things others plainly take for granted.

But I do moan for them. Because I don't have it. And to see others just making full use of it and having the time of their lives with it sometimes makes me ... reflect.

Reflect on how it would have been had I not. How it would have been if I had known this is how I would feel a decade later. Reflect on whether the outcome would in fact be better had I not.

Reflect on why all the reflection.

And yet, reality hits me like a slap in the head. It can't be any other way because it just isn't. I am on a different path and I should be thankful for it.

If only there was a way for the Fates to tell me how to be a little more grateful and not moan about why it is this way. The way hungry children receive bowls of rice, without asking what is due in return. The way an estranged lover runs back into the relationship, without the partner wondering what overcame him.

The way I should be doing this.

I know that a year, is just a year. If I am meant to miss something, maybe it's so I can discover just how to approach it the next time the opportunity arrives.

But I don't like conforming. Conforming to the way things are, and not fighting for the way it should be. I want to break the cycle, before it breaks me.

And that, may be one of the biggest battles of my lifetime.

Cheers.

Tooth.

Alot of tooth.

And so I was browsing through the very very chic http://www.etsy.com/ and I stumbled upon this :

It is not a new craving, for I have not given up on my flat boots yet. But rather it is something I have already purchased. For twice the cost of a Happy Meal. And I'm sure ten times cheaper than the original.

It's Evan Picone, a 60 year-old brand famous for classic trends in skirts and dresses. Which makes my skirt ...

VINTAGE.

Holla.

I have a nouveau appreciation for my skirt.

Cheers.

Zip Me Up.

I wanna party, babe.

So remember readers when I was whining about my lovely pencil skirt I had reserved but didn't bother to make its reservation because I basically CBA about alot of things until desperation wrings me out?

I have something to tell you.

And it's mayjah dahlings, mayjah.

Yes. It was waiting for me still. In a slightly different tone but nevertheless, waiting.

(It's just like the skirt above, except bluish and with a fab bronze tone zip all the way down the front, and with cute little pockets on the sides and NOT Bottega Veneta.)

WAIT. Totally Bottega Veneta.

And so people, I have yet again surpassed another milestone of my infinite haute couture quest to ... infinitely discover haute couture pieces and add them to my wardrobe.

Those flat boots are seriously calling out.

To Neverland!

Cheers.

Not That I Want To.

But fuck you.

First,

What the fuck does OM NOM NOM mean?

It doesn't sound like mastication or swallowing, and when you say it, it sounds like you're mashing your food with your palate.

Second,

Don't talk to me when I'm angry. Because seriously, think about it. Would you talk to someone just as they want to pull out their hair? No. Because they will either ignore you, or pull yours instead. And it's funny that people haven't yet realised I have a very short fuse.

Third,

I hope you guys aren't sex-mad bitches. Because there is only room for one in my town.

Fourth,

Pri still hasn't told me things. Secrets are dangerous, sweetheart.

Fifth,

My ancestors were Jewish. This now proves my genetic relation to Fran Fine.

Sixth,

If the fuckers make me run back and forth the whole of next week fixing things, I will break someone's neck. Because I don't have time OR the money to do what I'm supposed to do over and fucking over again. And you don't give me what I want, I am seriously fucked.

Seventh,

I have not used 'fuck' in a long time. This relapse feels so good.

And eighth,

I had a chance to get this today, but some things came up and I fucking missed my chance. And I have a feeling that when I actually do get the chance, someone else would have been in the right mind to buy it as soon as they saw it.

The most fitting skirt I have ever slipped into.

Cheers.

I'll Escape.

Without you.

A quick note about the previous post. It was completely true, although I am not at all willing to explain what exactly I was talking about. The funny bits were meant to be funny, but the rest of it is completely valid.

Go figure.

This post is about ... everything. Mind you : the current soundtrack is Jack's Mannequin, so you can imagine just how I am feeling. I'm dreaming about alot of things, and hoping for most of them to be realised soon. I'm aspiring things for myself, aspiring things for my future. And pondering on the past.

What name did I make for myself?

What am I leaving behind here?

Who am I bidding goodbye to?

And I never actually realised this until recently.

I am starting a whole new chapter of my life.

I am leaving everything, and everyone behind me. The memories I learnt my lessons from shall soon be buried in the sands of time. The people I made the memories with will sit on top of them, waiting for their own new chapters to reveal themselves.

And quite frankly, I question just how upset all this makes me. Am I really heartbroken that I am leaving people behind? People who care about me? People who would give alot for me to stay behind and continue to write history with them?

Yes and no.

Yes, because I am supposed to feel it. So I psych myself into sadness, hoping to fool others about this mask I have on that's hiding what I really feel.

And no, because I am leaving everything behind. Including the horrible things that I do not wish to take with me. And alot of people are going to get hurt by this, but I mean - how truly selfless can we be in this world? In the end, we only do things for ourselves.

Altruism is foolish, and selflessness does not exist.

And I need to move on without worrying who is trying to pull me back.

But there are people who I can't bear to walk off without. My family doesn't count in this at all, because where they are, I shall be. And then, there are those people I still feel for. The people who, no matter how far away I have been from them, still remember me as I am. The people who make me reminisce, just by looking right at them. The people I need no mask for.

The ones I will remember for a very long time.

And the rest, remind me of things I could have achieved. The things I could be if it weren't for my own obstinance. Those who remind me of my failures.

It's true, amidst my glorious successes I only remember my failures. And therefore I can't be forced to think about them.

But all this makes no difference right now. I am still here. Things are stalling, and have made no indication of speeding up. Until everything finally moves quickly in my favour, I will continue churning out posts such as these.

Whiling my time away.

Cheers.

Dreaming Of You, Drague.

I dedicate this post to Drague.

My lifeline. You showed me how to love. You showed me that I can be loved. And you make me smile.

Drague. The first time I saw you, you had a girlfriend. And you two were so affectionate with each other. And yet I knew that everytime our eyes met, you would look at me with a totally different emotion I had never seen come from you.

And you dumped her for me.

She threw her shoe at you and called me a bitch.

I smiled at her and we proceeded to make out in front of her.

And then she became a lesbian.

But all that doesn't matter anymore.

What matters is that I love you, Drague. And you love me to. And you would give up your life to be with me. But what is it about you that draws me in so? You're ambitious, a man of power. You know what you want and you take it.

And you're blonde and Swedish.

I'm so glad you're perfect. My Swedish Drague.

Cheers to our love, baby.

Tupac Robot Club Rock.

Reminds me of MTV and Andy Samberg.

I would like to start off this post by telling you that I heard Cobra's GGGB blasting from a very very seedy store owned by South Asians, in an equally seedy mall in the middle of the city centre.

The level of mainstream-ness makes me want to reach for a bucket and express my emotions.

Moving on. I am in a terrible state of mind right now. The kind where I should be thinking one thing but can't help but think otherwise, which makes me feel angry and think about other things and in turn I think of why I insist on thinking of so many things in one go.

Basically, mental diarrhoea.

First of all before I curse my brains off and whine and wonder about what I'm doing here, I want to thank the higher powers and the Fates for what they have blessed me with. I know that part of it was due to me working my ass off into depression, but I can't ignore that the powers had something to do with it. My luck could have been bad, but it wasn't. I achieved more than I expected and more than my future expected, and I honestly have to thank everyone who had a part in it.

So thanks.

And also for the fact that the past 10 days have been so special. I love the fact that out of nowhere a holiday appeared. I love the fact that it was so unexpected, and yet felt totally normal when it happened. And right now I realise where my love really lies, and the people I should truly give all my love to. Knocking on wood right now.

So thanks.

And also that those two gifts have been brought together. I have a chance to continue this holiday of mine because of the first gift that I have been blessed with. Without either, this plan wouldn't have worked or made me as excited for the future.

So thanks.

Right now, I'm worrying myself for nothing. Perhaps even just for the sake of worrying. I am currently at a very stagnant position now which has left me overwhelmed with anticipation with still having my hands bounds with no way to help speed up the process. I guess I just keep thinking of what waits for me in the near future and how I am so close to it, and yet I am not moving anywhere.

But hopefully that's just worries. Hopefully.

I shall now finish this post by telling everyone that I am queen. Those flat boots ala Peter Pan in my previous post? Totally saw them in the new arrival batch in Zara.

Jokes man.

Cheers.

She's Dancing In The Stars.

Living in the sky with diamonds.

I've just heard the brand new album Hot Mess - and it's Fabtastic. Ignore any qualms I had previously of this album because :

1. It has the sparkle of the first album, and the spice of the second.

2. It's Cobra Starship.

Speaking of the first point, they've gone back to their alternative rock roots of While The City Sleeps, We Rule The Streets. It sounds so space-age, and they've taken it back to what made me fall in love with the Cobras in the first place.

I even remember it all starting with Hollaback Boy, and It's Warmer In The Basement.

I'm so glad they've added a little more synth and keytar, because it's simply my perfect album now. They even have Ryland's guitar solos now! The track list is as follows :

1. Nice Guys Finish Last

2. Pete Wentz Is The Only Reason We’re Famous

3. Good Girls Go Bad (featuring Leighton Meester)

4. Fold Your Hands Child

5. You’re Not In On the Joke

6. Hot Mess

7. Living In The Sky With Diamonds

8. Wet Hot American Summer

9. The Scene Is Dead; Long Live The Scene

10. Move Like You Gonna Die

11. The World Will Never Do (featuring B.o.B)

Nice guys do finish last, Gabe.

So skip the race and join me?

Cheers.

Contain Me.

If you could.


There is an ongoing battle in my mind. It literally never quits thinking. It's grateful, but it's paranoid. It's wishful, but it's afraid. It's dreaming, and then it stops.


Because it just can't decide. Both sides have such good points, that they both constantly seem better than the other. And in the end, it leaves me so spun around with thoughts that I can't wait for the truth to reveal itself.


It is at this point that I am sure none of you know what I am talking about.


And if you do -

How nice of you to join me in this insanity.

It's as if, I don't want to hope too much, because if I want something so bad I'm not going to get it. And then again, somedays, I have to hope for something so much just so it comes true - and it does.


And it just repeats every single day. I sort of see a pattern in this fate game, where the rules change for each new day. So every morning I wake up and I have to try and see whether the day had turned out to my expectations, and I use the turnout to see how to wish for things for the rest of the day. But the thing is, it's morning. But that doesn't matter to my psychotic mind. Even the time I wake up can be a huge clue.


And this whole thing just continues all day long.


I have two really huge things I'm counting on right now, one of them being way bigger than the other, while both of them are still pretty big deals to me.


The two things are : Blah and Blah.

Nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh you will never know.

Okay sorry. The rules just don't allow me to today. And perhaps, never.


I know that this thing I have in my head is most probably shortening my life span as we speak and makes me a major candidate for intense psychotherapy, but I can't help it. I think I'm on this quest for the key to life, and I am just not ready to end the pursuit even if it could kill me.


So right now, I just have to keep thinking. Because if I need anything to come true, it's both of those things.


BOTH of them.


Cheers.

Paranoia and Waiting.

The best couple in history.

I've got a couple of things on my mind, including my impending potential doom and something that could give me a little solace from it. And the best part is, I am not sure of either.

It could either be the best of times, or the worst of times.

No Charles Dickens here, people.

Anyway, I ain't here to bore you bitches and I've got something else to talk about.

MEANWHILE.

My new obsession is : Fringe.

It all started on this one fine day after a pasta lunch where I decided to annoy a few people and wander off into this store with half-off discounts.

Seriously, I am turning into Fran Fine.

Eh-heeeeeeeeh.

Back to fringe.

I never liked fringe to begin with. I always that it was weird and boring and completely unflattering. But I found this. And instantly I was transported to a land far far west, inhabited by Native Americans, where they danced and sang and loved and lived - in fringe.

The above picture is my skirt, except black and much MUCH shorter.

Seriously, Fran Fine.

Also,

That big oversized I-don't-know-how-to-wear-this party top.

Ala Lady Gaga.

Oh la la. C'est trop jolie que je ne peux pas parler.

And finally, my prediction for next season's fashion comeback.

The slouchy flat boot.

Really I just made that up because I don't know what you call it. Ala Peter Pan if you will.

To Neverland, boys.

*PS : After careful inspection of the new themes hitting brands like MNG for the new season, I discovered that their new collection is all FringeFringeFringe and Back-To-The-Wild-West, baby. I really hate to say I told you so but ...

we're all going to be bohemian like you.

Hey.

Cheers.

I Want To Be Your Hot Mess.

Cos I can shake it shake it shake it and I know what to do.

Please excuse me for this one post, as I have just realised my blog is missing me and hopefully you all are too. I haven't had a smart thought in a pretty long while so I'm not exactly ready to spin a marvellous tale about why the earth is really square and who told me so right now. I am pretty much going to talk about random things.

The horror.

RANDOM THINGS.

Why, I may as well splatter this post with pictures of me in various states of distress as I am shoving forkfuls of food into my mouth, followed by the ones of my full and empty plate. Or maybe you'd prefer pictures of me trying my best to show you my facial imperfections by puffing my mouth up with air and squishing my eyes behind the folds of my eyelids.

It's your choice, really.

But I couldn't even do that to myself. Random as in - things you already know but I would like to remind you of.

1. Cobra Starship

(You knew this was coming.)

Cobra's new song 'Hot Mess' is fantabulously fabtastic. As usual. I would expect nothing less from them.

GGGB (Good Girls Go Bad) might be a better track than this however. I think Pete Wentz... and GGGB are more powerful tracks than this one. Nevertheless, the synth is one of my favourite instruments and they used it to the maximum on all three.

Lyrics-wise, I think Gabe and the gang could have put alot more effort into it. It has really cute bouncy lyrics, but it lacks substance. A definite change from when they were still with FBR.

In conclusion, Cobra Starship rocks forever and Gabe Saporta is my one true love.

(How could you have thought otherwise?)

2. Panic! At The Disco

1. Yay, their exclamation point is back. The way it should be.
2. Ryan Ross and Jon Walker have totally ditched Brendon and Spencer.
3. Ryan is now rumoured to be a crackhead who cheated on his girlfriend and has no plans for the future.
4. My guess is Ryan wanted to be normal and he removed the exclamation mark.
5. Panic! is still rocking their groove.

Their new song clip is called 'Oh Glory' and I am completely hooked on it, despite it being only 30 seconds long. Great vocals and great guitars, and their lyrics are impeccable as usual.

Their other new song called 'New Perspective' is a great track, although I personally like 'Oh Glory' more.

All in all, it's a definite turn-around from folksy I-am-so-high-on-LSD-right-now Pretty. Odd., although it still doesn't measure up to A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. That album to me is masterclass and one of my permanent favourites.

Sigh. I wish I had more in my head to lengthen this post.

But life just isn't what it was anymore.

Cheers.

It Could Have Been A Sweet Dream.

Not a beautiful nightmare.

There is something to be said about people who believe lies. They could simply be naive individuals who only see the good in people, or those who decide not to choose between right and wrong and basically take everything as they come. Or maybe they just don't mind being taken for a fool.

But there is even more to be said about people who believe in lies. The difference is that you know it's the biggest lie you have heard but you still believe it for the sake of something.

And this is the worse of the two, when you knowingly choose to take the wrong path.

This is where the problem starts. Despite the knives and flaming torches coming straight at you, you continue to march down this road for some spectacular reason that means so much more to you than open wounds and burning lacerations.

You don't mind having to go through all this mess, because you can see the golden miracle at the end of the journey. Neither do you even stop and take a break from it somewhere along the middle, because you just can't lose your footing. And you can't give up either. Because you are always going to be just so close to the end of it.

But what you don't realise is the real length of this journey. No one told you that this path is indefinite. Just when you think the finish line is right behind those shrubs, there lies a longer, more treacherous path to travel.

So what now? You're doomed to walk this path for all eternity?

Not really.

The only way to get out of it is by mental death, when you realise finally that there is no end to the suffering. Or you could simply 'not duck' when that speeding bullet comes straight at your forehead.

And she took it like a fighter.

When everyone else thought the coast was clear, it came at her from an invisible gun that was the reason she began on this path in the first place.

And you know what the saddest thing is?

The entire thing was a lie. The path was a lie. The wounds were a lie. Even that bullet was a lie.

It's like walking through thin air, and being killed by a dream.

So it's time to come back to reality. To step back from the carnage and look at what you had done and why you had done it. And hopefully morph yourself into something that you're not and avoid the miserable lies that slither throughout your life.

Because people don't change.

And neither do lies.

Cheers.