And The Pressure Is On.

Crushing me, it's crushing me.

So there's this thing called pressure. If applied correctly, it can be used to drive someone on, into battle for instance, and let fear chase them to the finish line.

And if applied wrongly?

Why, my dear child, it destroys you.

Shatters your mind, your body and your soul alike. Sometimes it takes a little more time than it really needs. Slow, calculated forces shoot through your every cell. Breaking you bit by bit until you finally surrender to your pain.

And eventually, death. For those who are fortunate, of course.

But my situation is a little more complex than this. Aeons more, actually. I've got a pressure so intense that I cannot allow myself to dream until I know it's going to happen. Because one of the greatest pains in life is to dream, and then have someone drive a hammer through them just as you are about to reach it. In order for me to ever please anybody (excluding myself at this point) I probably have to live like a phoenix.

Alternate death and reincarnation.

If only that was possible. The Fates have made sure that us humans shall roam this diseased earth and debate our choices long and hard, until we finally pick the wrong one - where the Fates will rejoice and guide you straight to it. And you live your entire life making the wrong moves, choosing the wrong paths, and throughout them blaming it on yourself. In the end, no one really dies happy.

You either live out all your dreams, and still feel like you're missing something.
Or you either live your life, trying to be as happy as possible, so that you can guarantee at least to yourself, that you have had a good life.

But you die in sorrow, because you had to give up everything to try and live peacefully.

No amount of religion is going to help anybody solve their problems. It gives you hope, yes. Which is not especially useful when you're under 20 feet of crap. Hope is not the shovel that is going to help you sift through it so you reach the top again. Hope is that little mining lantern that grows dimmer every second you hope for it to glow brighter.

Now, what does this have to do with me?

It's that time again. When I psyche myself so bad into thinking that my entire life depends on this one decision. And you know why? Because it bloody does. I either push myself to work a little harder, or I give it all up and suffer for a long time.

And then there's the fear. The fear of failing. The fear of failing myself, because I know I can do better.

But more importantly :

The fear of failing everyone else around me, because they expect an ocean from you.
The fear of failing everyone else, because they think you are going to fulfil those expectations. The fear of failing everyone else, because they have already planned out your life based on what they think is going to happen.
The fear of failing everyone else, because you are going to be blamed for the destruction of your life, and reminded about it constantly.

The fear of failing everyone else.

The fear of failing.

The fear.

It's bad enough I have no confidence in myself. But this whole situation here is going to mess with my mind. Drain me of any emotions I have in me, leaving a large empty void. Making me completely alien to anything remotely normal, so I can be different. I can be in a class of my own.

I can be perfect.

Why? Because the rest of them are. They have done nothing wrong in their lives and all mistakes are justified, or have never even been made in the first place. So I should be the same. Live a perfect regimented life. One you are proud of. One where all your decisions have clearly been right. One that is completely according to the book. What book?

The Fucked Book Of Fucked Rules.

And I should listen. Because that is just who I am - someone who lives according to the plan, and someone who listens.

Right.

And has you living by the rules made life more enjoyable? I doubt it. I highly doubt it. I honestly wish that we had a life full of excitement, and we were a little happier with ourselves. The fact is we're still working. Slogging. Burning off a bit of our souls every day.

I don't want to make mistakes. Heck, I'd do everything right starting now if I could. But making mistakes is part of the hell we live in. We are going to make them. We are going to hate them. But most importantly we are going to learn from them.

I wish perhaps we could forget them.

And as for this dilemma of mine, I only have one choice. To work as hard as I can and hope the path to my dreams comes out of it. And if not, then curse the Fates and so be it.

There is only one way to find out.

Cheers.

Sell Out Vs. Sell Out.

The battle of the opposites.

To begin this tension - loaded bullet-armed post, I will explain its title.

SELL OUT vs. SELL OUT

1. Sell out [sehl owt] : To have no more tickets availabe for sale for the show, because they have all been purchased.

Used in a sentence : Cobra Starship now sells out their concerts, when they used to play gigs at seedy venues for a much smaller fee.

2. Sell out [selowt] : To shed your underground roots, and grow into a mainstream clone. In the process, one ditches their underground fans and underground vibe for a sound similar to every single song on the Top 100s.

Used in a sentence : Cobra Starship is selling out as we speak.

______________________________________________________

So Cobra Starship has a new song. Good Girls Go Bad seems like a pretty good track, and I like it. It's oozing with dance vibe, it has that neon funky feel to it and I have it on replay.

The details.

The song was co-written by Kara Dioguardi.

Who is she? I'm not surprised you're asking. She's the fourth judge on American Idol, and apparently she writes songs and produces them. Who has she worked with? Celine Dion, David Archuleta, Kelly Clarkson, Christina Aguilera, Pink, Demi Levato, Leona Lewis, Carrie Underwood, Ashley Tisdale, Miley Cyrus, clone, clone and clone.

Here's another person who had a hand in this. Kevin Rudolf.

Also known as guy who plays the guitar behind Lil' Wayne in Let It Rock. Rudolf co-produced and co-wrote the song and mixed the beat. Who has this guy worked with? T.I., Timbaland, LL Cool J, Black Eyed Peas, Nelly Furtado, Lil Kim, Ludacris, Justin Timberlake, mainstream, mainstream, and mainstream.

The last person to stir their spoon in this already toxic mix is called Leighton Meester.

Also known as Blair Waldorf, also known as Girl Who Is Not Happy With Her Multi-Million Dollar Series. Yes, somehow she feels the need to sing because maybe she isn't getting enough airtime on her famous show. And she decides she has to do it with Cobra Starship.

Now here's the dirt.

Leighton Meester didn't appear to gush about her new song partners as much as Gabe did. And she didn't fly in just so she can film the video. It was a matter of convenience for her because it was filmed while she was in town for some gala.

On the other side though, Gabe Saporta was stoked. He was dreaming even, about how wonderful the world would be if he could sing a song with the lovely Leighton Meester.

One last thing before I release the firearms. Where on earth is the rest of Cobra Starship?? I know Gabe Saporta leads the band, but I expected some noise from them. They seem to be just hanging on for the ride, while Gabe Saporta is driving their funky neon van into as many mainstream pit stops as he can.

From the latest pictures at Bamboozle, Vicky-T isn't looking as hot as she usually does. She looks exhausted and bigger than she was the last time, while the rest of them are just fading away. Gabe Saporta is basically the permanent life of the show, just as he has always wanted.

Perhaps they might even be renamed : Gabe Saporta and The Funky Dudes Band.

Here we go, people.

1. IT'S NOT LEIGHTON MEESTER'S SONG. For god's sake.

She has one tiny part in it, and all of a sudden it's her new song. Granted, Cobra Starship is practically riding on her name so they can finally become mainstream. But it's not her song. Not her band. And if she didn't get to do the song, she wouldn't fucking care.

Cobra Starship FEATURING Leighton Meester. Not the other way around.

And no, she did not make this track fantastic.

2. Kara Dioguardi spent 15 minutes on this song.

As much as I like to spin stories on this blog, this is totally true. She basically didn't have 10 minutes to spend with the band and however much it pissed Gabe off, they still came up with something 15 minutes later. Hmm ... they must have made out for 5.

3. This song is awesome, but does not sound like Cobra Starship.

Gabe's voice is the only reason I recognise it as theirs. Their sound is completely different from their previous albums. Heck, the reason I got hooked onto the Cobras was While The City Sleeps We Rule The Streets. And now they've morphed from underground to sub-mainstream Hispanic hip hop-pop, to mainstream Electropop.

I would not be surprised if they collab with Lady Gaga on this album. God bless her, but this is Cobra Starship we're talking about.

The evidence is clear, but I honestly hope the rest of Hot Mess (their new album out in summer) makes me fall in love with the Cobras all over again. The real Cobras. Where we used to celebrate the Gabe-Ryland-Alex-VickyT-Nate union and the beautiful music they come up with.

There is one tiny inch of hope that Cobra Starship doesn't sell out.

This is all Bianca's fault.

See what happens Gabe, when you don't fall in love with me.

Cheers.

He Makes Me So So Bad.

What can I do - I love trouble.

First of all, GABE SAPORTA.

Second of all, NEW SONG.

Third of all, COBRA STARSHIP.

Let's begin.

I don't know why, but when the disco beat started out, I wanted to cry. I honestly wanted to get on my knees and just cry. Because Cobra Starship is a narcotic.

And when Gabe Saporta started singing, I really cried.

I don't know what it is about his voice that makes me just want to bawl, but I do know it has
something to do with it being magically beautiful.

BUT. As I do with all things in life, I have a problem.

Kara Dioguardi and Kevin Rudolph and Leighton Meester.

She wrote the songs and he mixed the beat and she __ (insert random act of slutness here)__.

If by now, you have not realised the issue here, please guide your cursor to the right-hand corner of your screen to the big blinking X. There you shall receive explicit instructions to close this page, shut off your computer, crawl into your bed and cry about why you don't know this answer. After which you will write down a million reasons why you still qualify as my friend and you will call me and sob them to me. After careful deliberation, we shall decide the terms of our contract.

I mean it.

But for those of you who have understood it before I even finished Kara whatshername's name, you may continue reading.

Cobra Starship a sell-out?

At first glance, yes. The lyrics should have come from the heart of the Cobras, the beats should have been spun by Vicky-T, the master keytarist and Leighton Meester ... WHO??

Oh, that girl from Gossip Whatevers that walks around like she owns the world.

Why can't she just stick to that? Oh no, don't tell me it was too boring.

But upon further investigation, perhaps the Cobras are just exploring their musical vibe. They haven't forgotten their fans (not yet, and hopefully never) and their sound hasn't changed that much. Let's just say I'm setting the boundary at rap and Timbaland.

If this occurs, the band will start to sound like The Gays Five and one of them will marry a failed rock princess/slut and have a child named after an animal. The others will fade into obesity and set out to corrupt other rising bands.

Whatever it is, Cobra Starship stays in my heart forever.

And Gabe Saporta stays in me forever too.

Cheers.

My 100th Post.

You sad, sad people.


I guess it's quite an accomplishment for me to have reached a hundred posts. I think I started out with me falling into danger, and somewhere after that falling out of it. And up until now, they have been alternating between self-destruction, amazingly beautiful men, why the human race has been programmed to suck and how I complain about everything that is good.


Like I said. You sad, sad people.


Anyway.


Today officially marked the final day. Final day for ... everything really. Everything new in my life for the past few months. Things that I know I didn't think I would have missed in the beginning but are the few things I want to keep with me as memories for a pretty long time.


Perhaps that's how you make a memory. It's not those long and random moments of sanity that you want to remember. It's the ones that are seconds long but worth a lifetime. The ones where you didn't know what you were thinking, but glad you did it anyway. The moments with the ones who are going to appreciate it as much as you will.

And that marks the end. We all embrace each other in one final curtain call, and then vanish. Never to be seen by the other again, unless fate insists we cross paths.

It's pretty upsetting. To meet new people, realise you like them, get attached to them, fall in love with them, miss them, arrive at some definitive point in your life where you are forced away from them, miss them some more, curse fate, and then lapse into depression until you start the cycle again.

So, technically we're only halfway done.

This may be the only time I will admit it, but these few months have been one of the insane rides ever. From emotional disease to a complete revolution and finally bonding with those whom you appreciate. Boy, am I going to miss them. Somehow they have fashioned a small space in my heart for themselves and are not going to leave until they find something more interesting.

They have helped me grow. They have helped me see things I am not able to myself. They have helped me realise that the end is not really an end.

And they listen.

It's so important to me that a friend LISTENS. Yes, it seems like something that typically comes with the package, but you won't believe how many faulty packages exist. And it's most crucial because I don't have time to listen to myself.

And they believe in me.

Because I don't do for myself either. A waste of time really. Why put your faith in something that doesn't reach expectations? Why invest in something with no returns? Why fucking bother?

(That is also a reason why I need people to do that for me.)

So what have we established?

1. I have awesome friends.
2. My friends truly care about me.
3. I truly care about my friends.
4. We're all going to grow apart starting now.

Don't you just hate me for putting a damper on everything.

Happy 100th Post. To me.

Cheers.

*To my friends. (Well, the only ones who read my blog.) I might not get the chance to say this in person, primarily because of my rotten memory, so here goes.

I am really thankful for the lot of you. These past months could have been hell for me, but you decided against that by being there for me when I needed you. I am especially grateful for the ones who read my blog on the regular. Just makes me feel a little better inside that me sitting behind this screen, frantically tapping at keys and editingeditingediting is not in vain. I want you to know now that I type these posts for your reading pleasure, so thank you.

As soppy as this sounds, you guys make me happy spending time with you. Also, it makes me forget how much money I'm spending with you.

And above all, I realise that I am capable of having people care about me. And that my personality doesn't suck that much. And that you like me for who I am.

Thanks.

*Editors - Bullets (This band is the SEX.)

A Greek Tragedy.

With Italians and all.

In the last post I mentioned that how everything we imagine to be stable is going to crash down on us. And how we are going to send ourselves to heartbreak as soon as we realise how much we have lost.

Well, it's here now.

I could get onto something all of you can relate to, but instead here's me being selfish.

It didn't have to end, because it didn't have to start. But I decided to take a chance and tell myself that nothing more than an acquaintance was going to come out of it. And as things always sound right in my head, they come out as total gibberish in action. My brain tells my heart something, and my heart nods away while destroying everything in front of it.

Chaos ensues. In my head, I'm counting down. And in my heart, I'm dreaming of advancing until the very last moment when everything falls apart. I try everything - using people I know, coming up with stupid excuses in my head to comfort myself, hoping that he likes me too.

And what happens? Squat. I make a fool of myself, he loses nothing. Same old, same old.

Tell me when you hear something new.

Maybe I'm trying to hold onto something here. Something grounded. Something to look forward too. Subconsciously, I'm trying to escape before the gates are even open. And that's why I keep crashing into them, only accomplishing grill burn.

But it's not like I didn't give it any effort. Do you think I like making myself seem extra friendly to you? Do you think I like looking stupid just to get your attention? Do I live to entertain people? Perhaps. But it's not the way I picture myself living my life forever. I can't be the jester all the time. Especially not for the people I need the most.

It's quite funny really. The way we both know we're there, the way we turn to look at each other, and yet we act as if none of that happened. I don't do anything because, of pure ego. And you, lord knows why. If one of us just gave up the silly game and tried some maturity for a change, I wouldn't be typing this out in the thick of night, trying to figure out my feelings.

But I'm doing this. And you're doing that. And I'm here talking about someone who probably doesn't even remember my name.

So this is how I wanted my finale to look like. A stubborn boy who hides behind the mask of a wary child. A bitter tortured soul that lies behind a character of smiles and laughter. And a war between the two until the very end.

This Greek Tragedy lives on.

Cheers.

So Let's Talk Jared.

Kings of Leon.

Bassist.

Jared Followill.

Jared.

Is mine.













Em, how can I put this.

Gorgeous as fuck.

I think I love him.

Cheers.

Till It All Falls Apart.

Because we have one week.

'You shouldn't stop writing. You can see things others can't.'

Yeah, right. I'm seeing less if anything.

I have got less than half a month and yet I am sitting at my computer typing away mindless junk all of you are going to forget by tomorrow. But I guess since this seems pretty monumental to everyone, I should post something up about it.

I'm still recovering from the weight of my previous posts about the physics of time, because lord knows how my frequently absent mind managed to come up with so much garbage. That all of you believed. Just proves my theory that our psyche has been made so flexible it can be used to lead in the bodies of the powerful, and follow in the bodies of the weak.

Anyway.

It seems like yesterday that I had just finished what I imagine to be high school. Where we were allowed to be juvenile and naive because there was no excuse not to. We weren't in a rush to grow up and we embraced what was left of adolescence. We made friends just to have silly fights with them, and use words that we would not think of using otherwise.

And then we stepped up onto a higher pedestal. A higher pedestal of responsibility. Of bigger problems. Of real-life issues. It's a far cry from baby world I must say. Because 'I love you', doesn't just mean 'I love you' anymore. It means - let's go fuck each others' brains out, have children, name each of them after rock bands, and never tell our parents what we did'.

Sorry. A little bit of teen angst there.

I love you ... enough to care for you. But not enough to not talk to other girls. I used to love you that much but not anymore. I wish I could try, but trying is too hard.

Exactly. Now we actually have to mean what we say.

But with the burden of the consequences, we get a little bit more freedom. We aren't bound to the whims and fancies of our guardians, and some of us don't even need to rely on them for funds. Everything is our choice now, whether right or blatantly wrong.

And we form new relationships on an entirely different level. No longer do we meet people for the sake of it, or force on a smile just because of a mutual friend. And we don't just exchange contact details for homework. We create a life with them. A life of parties, breakfast, lunch and dinner, and perhaps a life away from home. It's all included in this package we call Growing Up.

Terms and conditions apply.

And it's now over. Expired. Past its deadline. Before our very eyes, 18 months walked right by us, without even bidding hello.

Maybe we had too much fun. Because time doesn't tend to appreciate happiness when it sees it. Instead, in a sick twist of madness, it speeds itself up, purposely depriving us of what we have come to know as our only escape from our depression. It takes our friends from us, and it brings our enemies closer. It makes our problems dense, and our solutions distant.

It makes us want to stop it.

So maybe my mentally - exhausting posts about time weren't such a bad idea after all. Somehow it opened up a dimension in my mind, from where I can now explain to all of you how and why we aren't allowed to experience happiness. That time is just doing the job of something else with a greater power than what we imagine. That it's better not to bring this up, for the can of worms that it will open, won't just have worms.

Or maybe it's making sure that we don't take everything for granted. Suddenly following a path of mercy, time wants us to know what is good for us and what isn't. And to truly miss the good times when they aren't here anymore when we are submerged in darkness again. But the last few days don't play in slow motion. It flies by you at jet speed, if anything.

I'm going to miss everything I have experienced these past 18 months. Going out after class for food and shopping. Trooping around all over the city, because we're bored out of our minds. Dozing off at the back of the car in between spurts of innocent gossip. Falling in love, falling out of love. Making friendships and breaking them. Trusting people out of temptation rather than instinct. Spending hours creating prophecies and philosophical arguments that are hardly substantial, but are worth the fun.

And watching time pass with the ones you love, the same ones you never admit it to.

So, there's a lesson learnt here. I just wish I knew what it is.

Cheers.