because it is like an addiction.

I've never really been blessed with any sort of generic artistic talent.

I can’t play any instrument because 1)I don’t think I have great mind-finger coordination and 2)I simply can’t. I don’t sing very well, discount the times when I’m singing out loud to Sam Smith in the car, asking stray cats and dogs by the pavement to stay with me. I paint but everyone who wants to paint can paint. Same goes for dancing and acting and visualizing and the lot. I do, however, have always had a large appreciation for all things art. Generically and more specifically, for great movies, songs, and books.

I do not realize how a large portion of my growing up and identity formation has been based on some of my earliest exposures to art. To the books written by Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl, particularly Matilda; 

         

I mean, take a look at you and me. You chose books - I chose looks. I have a nice house, a wonderful husband... and you are slaving away teaching snot-nosed children their ABCs.

                                           - Probably my most remembered full length quote from the book; I read this when I was seven.

and to the songs by the Spice Girls and Michael Jackson, particularly the Earth Song. I remember watching the music video on TV when I was four when I came home from kindergarten, not having yet been intellectually exposed to things like deforestation and elephants being left to die after their tusks get removed.

My appreciation and total or that I believe understanding of a movie came in later in life and as time goes on and I grow older, I developed a taste and liking for movies that fall under listed categories of dangerous, disturbing, on many accounts depressing and/or deliberately slow. I’m not sure when exactly this came on and which movie first steered me into this direction – Blue Valentine, maybe?

So you can imagine what happens to me when a really great book is made into a movie or when a really great movie was brained from a book, combined aesthetically with the wonders of a damn good soundtrack to carry the movie through fluidly.

For a lack of better words, I go into a phase of Tak Boleh Berhenti Fikir Pasal Movie Itu.

No really.

I literally cannot stop thinking about it.

So when a momentary, unexplainable obsession takes over, what am I to do – reread the book or rewatch the movie? Unfortunately, some films can be too much to absorb; I watched Girl, Interrupted twice perhaps and realized that I could not do it another time without risking myself unconsciously developing the antagonist’s characteristics. & I already have too many books to read. & I am also, ironically, lazy. 

So thanks to the wonders of being born into the computer age, I carry on my obsession by fully utilizing the Internet – I look up specific and more in depth details of what goes on behind the scenes, what happened on set during production, what the actors had to do to prepare themselves for their roles, who were the director's original choice of cast, how the soundtrack is composed and selected, why the director’s cut involved a certain take and angle, what sort of new technological tricks were used to elicit what sort of reaction, how the cinematography is conceived.


 I watch and read countless interviews of the actors, the directors, the book’s author. I plough through the movie trivia, the did-you-know pieces of information, absorbing every bit of possible fact. I listen to the soundtracks over and over sometimes it’s the only thing I hear for weeks and it is still the only thing I'm listening to right now and selflessly allow the very DNA of that movie diffuse into my system like heroin. 




I am now resisting from going to sleep despite being rather exhausted from a long and great day and despite the fact that I'm going to wake up very early because I felt an extreme need to complete and publish this drafted post about how much I was amazed and terrified and still am by the brilliance of Requiem For A Dream. 


I randomly decided to watch it a couple nights ago because I'd been meaning to for years but left it in the virtual shelf to collect dust. & I was hella bored.

man was it a wrong decision to watch it at night.

alone.

in the dark. 

I perhaps need to watch this one again, despite how much I was left feeling an extreme level of anxiety as the movie was a constant and steady decline from what seemed like a normal life in Brooklyn to a sheer state of void, emptiness and transparent madness.


because I am in full admiration of Darren Aronofsky's very meticulous transcribing from book to film, how he got Hubert Selby Jr. to come on set to read specific paragraphs to the actors before their due scenes, his dedication to the production so far that he purchased the rights of Japanese animated thriller, Perfect Blue, for $18,000 just to replicate a 30-second inspired scene which was terrificly haunting, how Jared Leto lost 25lb and how Ellen Burstyn lost 40lb plus having to wear prosthetic pieces which took four hours to put on, how the cinematographer, Matthew Libatique, accidentally let a shot go out of frame because he got emotionally affected while filming, how Hubert Selby Jr. himself cried on set upon watching one of his written characters come to life so painfully and flawlessly, how Hubert Selby Jr. made an unknown guest appearance in the film, how Jennifer Connelly's eyes alone are a perfect representation of the entire film,


and how the whole soundtrack both kept my adrenaline on a steady pump and made me feel like I was mentally dying of desolation, how some imagery were edited just to evoke the similar rushes that one gets from taking drugs, how some imagery were left to be so plain and empty and dreadfully dull to evoke the similar withdrawals that one gets from not taking drugs, how some extras on the set were actual junkies, how the movie had a total of 2000 cuts compared to a normal 600-700 cuts...


I could go on and on about this movie.
because of how much of a masterpiece it truly is.
in all its technicality, its simplicity, and overall context.


I am a huge fan of when the chosen soundtrack and film complement each other and both evidently make each other whole. I cannot get enough of how much it worked on Requiem For A Dream. plus my tendency of remembering scenes and imagery better by the music that accompanies it, I can still remember clearly how I was made to feel during specific portions of the movie and how I both loved and hated it simultaneously.


fourteen years later,
the movie proves that not only can it stand the test of time.
 did you know that Aronofsky consciously avoided a specific time frame to the movie so that people could not tell when exactly the film is supposed to be set in?


funnily enough, the way this movie has got into my skin and bones almost resembles how the movie is about drugs and the very detailed way it gets into you and leaves you. though I'm not sure whether I will ever be able to drop my undying obsession towards this film. perhaps until I stumble upon my next fix of a movie, maybe?


Dreams - Clint Mansell & Kronos Quartet

because you can't win everyday.

Early this morning, while I hustled and bustled through the various traffic jams to get to KL where I work (yes, I am working already, and the don't-know-what-i'm-supposed-to-do-with-my-life phase has taking a halt), I got to thinking about an ongoing theme that has been occurring this past week, not just to me, but also the several people that I got to talking with. and that is failure.


now, the reason why I thought about it this morning was because I'd been feeling that way for quite some time, up until this very morning itself. in my family, I am and have always been the more messy, disorganized and slightly disheveled one. I am not as tidy, not as clean, not as well ordered, and on top of all that, extremely careless and forgetful. I'm the type of person who will forget to wear pants as I leave the house, ten years down the road.


so yes; I'd been feeling rather bombarded with the little errs that I'd been making, both from my own overthinking and from the environmental cues in general. a good mixture to blow up into anxiety and trepidation. 


I get really upset when my family members outrightly claim that being forgetful/careless/messy is just the equivalent of being lazy, selfish, unthoughtful and not putting in enough effort. and it is fact that that is the light I am seen in by my family members, though they don't say it as much now than they used to. I try to block out sharp and heavy words like that and I rarely ever use them on other people because I understand the weight that those words carry. they seep into the system and like a stain, it is hard to wipe off.


over years of domestic abuse (LOL),
I have grown up feeling rather misunderstood. and thus, along with having studied Psychology, has resulted in an inveterate psyche of always searching to be understood. and also resulted in my natural character of always trying to understand those around me. I know that it's not as gravely as growing up with actual abuse and the torment of being compared to one's more successful siblings in my case, i'm the academic achiever by default but still, issues are issues and these are mine that I'm airing. banyak lagi my issues but let's not go there.


what I struggle with from time to time is the thought that I'm not living up to my family's expectations in this particular area of life. yes, you can have a degree and and excel in most academic areas and get a job exactly one month upon completion of studies and still made to feel like a useless butt for forgetting to turn off the room lights or not washing a dirty spoon because I was rushing out of the house. and yes, it makes me feel like quite a failure.

failure to live up to basic familial expectations aside,

another area of which I feel like I am failing is just life in general.

I thought that getting a job that I do have a passion in (writing) and earning a standard fresh-grad pay would make me feel slightly better. that at least, I'm doing something with my life instead wasting away at home like a hibernating toad. it's been exactly a month since I'd started work and the idea of a mundane 9-6 job five days a week is already starting to take a toll on me. like a tiny itch that hasn't spawned into a full blown disease. 

'I am so not in the mood for life."

a dear friend that I'd just have lunch with a couple hours ago said the above line before going back to work; frustrated and unmotivated. despite the odds that I am typing this from my work desk ever so casually, I don't think this is all there is to a working life. sure, not every day is going to be filled with eureka and excitement but I believe that a job doesn't have to always be confined to a blank desk. perhaps there really is something out there for everyone - we just have to keep trying and looking. and in my case, I can only continue looking next year after all my Etcera Plans are carried out.


people say that it is normal to not know what to make of our lives, especially at this point of age. is it though? I cannot help but compare myself with the people around me who are either my age or much younger, seeming to be achieving much more in their time than I am. could it be because they are not exactly working, and instead, doing what they really love? and what about getting jaded? I haven't been working long enough to feel jaded yet of course but what if I do?


perhaps I need to calm down.
seriously juyi kau kena sabar sket


and perhaps I just need to persevere, because like I said earlier, not every day is going to be filled with eureka and excitement. well then, I guess in the mean time, I will just continue filling my mind with movies that I've always wanted to watch, like Requiem For A Dream, which I watched yesterday night which totally killed me books that I've been meaning to read like Nick Hornby and music that I've been listening to on repeat like Angel Haze and Azealia Banks 


Black Dahlia- Angel Haze

because people are people and well, aren't we all people?

I sipped my cup of expensive but beautifully crafted mocha, cleverly dividing my attention between listening and conversing with my companion who sat right opposite me and altogether slyly observing the person slightly far off to my diagonal right. I knew him but he didn't know me. I also know that what I was observing came off as a bit of a shock, because what I saw appeared to be infidelity in the utmost clear form. because hell, people who are 'just friends' don't do shit like that.

a group of thoughts surged through my mind, tied together end by end and moving along in quick unison. in completely random order, my brain went: why is this happening why is he cheating wait is he cheating did they break up why did they break up did they not break up are they on some sort of break did she ask for a break did she cheat does she know he's cheating hmmmm maybe she doesn't know he looks like such a sleaze anyway should've known he'd be cheating he looked too much like a player to be loyal bitches ain't loyal


mine is an obvious case of stalk-melebih-sampai-tahu-details-hidup-dia-kaokao in an extension. to which, i believe most of us do. if you are not nodding in agreement as you read this, you don't be a lying bulldog and say you don't stalk people ok. tell me that you don't or have never went through someone's Facebook page or public Instagram and connected the dots of how they know this person and where was the last place they went to take a group photo of three people with an uninteresting background using a selfie stick.



well, I believe a majority of us do.
to the oblivious minority who have never took a peek into other people's lives, God bless your disciplined soul. that, or I pray for your lying bulldog-ness.

back to the concerning topic,

there are two ways I'm going to go with this.

one: why do we like to sensationalize things?
in all honesty, my brain didn't think 70% of what I wrote in that second paragraph above. one, because I was enjoying my coffee and late lunch and talking to the person sitting opposite me. two, because I honestly don't really assume the worst of people not being a lying bulldog on this one. three, I didn't really know him, or the girl I thought he was dating. four, I added them in for dramatic, fun-reading effect jeng jeng jeng.


in all fairness, it was absolutely none of my business. my point is that despite the fact that my brain didn't conceive 70% of what I wrote, I understand that it is what people would think when they see something they think they know. in this case, I was in my best behavior and frame of mind. put me in a different situation, who's to say I would think the same?  really, let's take a step back and think it more thoroughly. there are more times in life when we think we know something or someone than actually knowing the something or someone.


for a great majority who don't believe in God, we certainly like to play God, don't we? we behave in such a know-it-all state of mind. because we derive concrete conclusions based on assumptions that we construct based on what we see. and who's to say what we see is the absolute truth? the true mysteries of the world are the visible, not the invisible. because what is visible is in the eye of the beholder. and the beholder is the great manipulator of all things. to take words into more layman, less philosophical form: we see what we want to see, and we think what we want to think. and that is where "what you think about others speaks more about your own self than the person you are talking about" comes in.


I will approach this with the cook metaphor: we cannot do with the simple and mundane so we add spice. we add sugar, and salt, and paprika, and drama to make it more interesting. and that's the basic ingredients for all things gossip. how often do we sensationalize things to an extent just to make it sound a lot more drama-rama than how it actually was? worse, is that we do this without realizing and without thinking. how sure are you that as I write about the event that I claim to have seen as solid truth? I could easily have seen wrong. maybe it was a vision effect from the angle of where I was sitting. maybe there was something in his hair that she helped brush off. maybe they were close friends. maybe I'm a pathological liar.


matter of fact is that we like to tambah-tambah and I'm not sure why we do that. even if we don't tambah-tambah or spread the news to others, we assume the worst anyway and blow things up to an even more disproportionate structure than it actually is. again, thinking over actually knowing. why do we do that? is that really a reflection of our own characters as people?


two: why are we so invested in other people's lives?
okay so this perhaps applies to an even more specific, less majority group of people. I do believe that most people are nonchalantly living their lives without actually giving two hoots about others. to that, I truly salute. but even in our most tiny circles of friends, they have other circles, which forms this large chain of semi-connected circles. in a sense, it is a testament of how truly small our world is and that everyone really knows everyone. not to hardcore detail but you get my drift lah.


perhaps it's an unavoidable feat to sibuk about other people because curiosity is part of being alive. it's probably detrimental only if we believe that a person's life is really as exciting and colourful and fanciful as what they put up on their social media accounts. they don't take selfies when they have literally just woken up with drool on the side of their face (even if they do, it's probably the 32nd shot out of many other attempted 'random' shots). they don't take pictures of their emptying wallets as they go from cafe to cafe trying out new but essentially similar food. they don't capture snapshots of when they are actually angry and pissy posing to look angry and pissy and badass ada lah. and maybe i should change the they to we. because our online identities are just as important as our real life ones. they help formulate first impressions of all the random passerbys on cyberspace. welcome to the new age of social media, where everyone has more than two personalities.


again, we pick up details and attempt to connect the dots from what we see on social media platforms, often forgetting that it is human nature to accentuate the good and conceal the bad. [and then there are those who highlight the bad more than the good, to which we call out as attention seeking but lets save that for another day shall we]. probably detrimental as well when we compare our behind the scenes with other people's highlight reels. I know I've been guilty of that on more accounts than one.


and perhaps the reason why we are so invested in other people's lives is because we want to decipher it. for the basic intentions of wanting to know, or for bad intentions of wanting to compare and feel better of ourselves or feel worse of ourselves. to both, I come back to thinking over actually knowing. it's a pretty fine line separating two different areas that people don't really focus on anymore. what's unfortunate is if and when both areas are completely contrasting.

"Just remember that sometimes, the way you think about a person isn't actually the way they are."

- John Green

John Wayne Gacy Jr - Sufjan Stevens

because I don't know, really. I just don't.

as I ate my lackluster porridge it used to be better in humdrum under an even more lackluster weather of heavy rain but thankfully under a sturdy zinc roof that is a roadside stall in Ayer Panas, I sat with my good friend, C, who feebishly ate his chicken rice. I've been spending quite a lot of time with C, mainly because the both of us have coincidentally graduated around the same time (yes, I am done with my tertiary education people!) and are altogether in that weird, don't-know-what-i'm-supposed-to-do-with-my-life stage.


what was supposed to be a Major in Psychology with a Minor in Mass Communications has been reverted back to just a Major in Psychology due to time and money constraints. I am not one to have regrets, in fact, it is quite unlikely that I have regrets because I believe everything that we choose or naturally happens in our lives has a lesson to be learnt, propelling us to be better for whatever comes next. but every now and  then, especially after spending hours on JobStreet, I wonder just what it would be like, had I pursued a degree in something else.


if I had stuck to my original plan of taking up a Degree in Journalism at IACT.
or better yet, if I just went to La Salle to study performing arts.
or come out and work three jobs and be a struggling actress.
i kid at the last one. well not really.


I wonder to myself; how different would my life be? would studying Journalism have equipped me better for available writing positions? would I have higher opportunities at scoring a place at publishing companies? but I was not ultimately sure either that I wanted to write. then again, I'm not ultimately sure either if I want to write. heck, I'm not sure what I can do. one job interview at a highly corporate, money-and-sales-based company and I'm already terrified of the idea of a 9-6 job making desperate calls to clients, pitching sales ideas and getting them to sign this deal and that deal.


this could be just me over-worrying because I had only sent out my resume to twenty companies two days ago i kid, it's just ten companies and only two have responded to me. I know that it is a much longer waiting period but damn, did they think I was not qualified? did they not want a Psychology graduate? why would they want someone with a Psychology background for? was it because I lacked credentials?


one thing I do regret slightly or maybe a lot is not having any samples of my writing. I remember doing well in my journalism class I was one of the very few who got a flat 4.0 but I never kept the writings. I contributed to HELP's monthly magazine but I didn't keep those either. I suppose I was quite foolish in not seeing the importance of these things once I graduated. the same way I never saw the importance of all the random part time gigs I did for my resume. I just did it because I needed the money.

'I don't know. I just.. I just want to be extraordinary.'

the weight of those uttered words ineffably sunk into my bones. if not extraordinary, I just want to do something where I feel... fulfilled. something in which I feel like my skills and talents can be fully utilized and I can wholly believe in the work I am producing. at the same time, this wait for companies to respond to me is making me feel almost Sylvia Plath-ish. the whole, I-am-not-really-good-at-anything shindig. which is both silly and true, for I am and always have been a jack of trades and a master of none. 

seriously God; what am I gonna do? 

putting Tom Odell's face here because he's cute and he looks just as lost as I am

at the same time,
I don't want to be an adult. not  yet.


Yamaha- Delta Spirit

because being alone is a universal feeling.

31st August; 2:30 a.m.

I am sitting closely by my window sill, accompanied by a barely visible pot of chamomile tea because the lights are out. i am comforted by all the little bright orange lights that light up the wavy streets of Melawati and the distant sounds of cars driving by on the highway. i am reminded of several years back when i was also in this same position; blogging, cup of hot tea somewhere within reach; i was sitting by the balcony of my previous home in Cheras and i was starring away into the lights that lit up the highway, the winds gushing into my living room softly. 

something about being alone at night that i really enjoy. the fact that I am the only one awake behind these comfortable walls that is my beautiful house, i feel like my mind can be on its own. selfishly free from having to harmonize into the thoughts and wellbeing of others around me. fortunately free from having my mind infiltrated by the opinions of others that i do not want to listen to. it's like my brain can finally breathe at its own rate and increase/decrease at its own expenditure. 

it's so contradictory how we tend to feel alone. but if we think about it, like really think about it, there are people everywhere all around the world who feel just as we do. don't even talk world, just look at the city you live in. i can see people sitting at the mamak downstairs. i can see motorists driving in and out of Taman Melawati. right now, there are people unst unst-ing away to some presumably good trance or rnb music at Zouk. there are people mindlessly wasting away on their computers, immersed halfheartedly in their work, and thinking endlessly as they roll around in their empty beds. 

and out of all these people,

the countless many who are having lonely hearts.

how often we wish for someone to talk to, someone who would listen to our random rants about what happened to our favourite tv show character, someone to have lunches and dinners with, someone we could spill out our most deep and darkest secrets to, someone who doesn't judge us on hormonal days, someone who doesn't mind eating ice-cream at 1a.m with us whilst we bitch about that one asshole that screwed things up, someone who would let us wet their shirts with our snots as we cry on their shoulders, someone who empathizes on behalf of our first world problems, someone to care for us.

so many of us,

a great lot of us,

are just about the same.

of late night coney hotdogs and conversations about friendship,

i am reminded of how even the simplest things in life can be rather, complicated. that things can be both easy and difficult at the same time and that's okay. that expectations are hard to set aside, but having expectations puts any sort of relationship on a whole new level. that what we hear is not necessarily the truth but we choose the truths we want to believe in anyway. that we let the opinions of common outsiders pollute and reinforce our thinking, without realizing that the opinions of others are biased to their own thinking as well. we assume the worst of the other person without realizing how baseless assumptions can be. and how easily we let assumptions become our truths. 

then it becomes a game of whose ego is bigger.

nobody wants to back down.

nobody wants to apologize.

nobody wants to save what is left. 

see, that's one thing that coney hotdogs and friendships have in common;

good to have, but boy can they get messy.

"she was my person; she's the only one who knew me best."

because most of us are alone when we don't have someone who understands us. 

while mindlessly rolling around in my bed last night, mindfully thinking about recent events in my life, i am reminded again of why i don't and try not to expect anything out of anyone else but myself. because people don't owe me anything; not an apology, not an explanation, nothing. who am i to subject some sort of expectation out of the people around me? it sounds and comes across as sounding spiteful and/or bitter but truly, it is not! in fact, life is immediately much easier and lighter when you don't take everything to heart and just appreciate the fact that there are people surrounding you, loving you in only the human ways that they can.


then again, I play a good game at keeping my true identity hidden beneath the selection of masks that I polish and clean every now and then. for I am a plethora of personas within a body, and I have learnt that there are those who see one persona, those who see more than one, those who have seen enough to realize it is too much, and those who have seen a lot and choose to love me anyway.

and perhaps that is why I can be both easy to understand,

and equivalently difficult to understand.

because I keep myself hidden. I swim in this solitude of knowing that I am the only person who knows just how many masks I have. and despite the term 'mask' coming of as negative, I see it more as me adjusting to my surroundings at all times, adapting as I go. and with that, my true self is alone. and so I wonder just how many of those like me are out there; alone in our many amplitudinal states of being alive.


Possibility- Lykke Li 

because I am saddened.

I have not been sleeping the most well as of lately. I'm not sure whether it's because i've been too excited about life and all the little things that make me happy like catching up with old friends or there's something deeply unsettling inside that I don't know how to translate into words. then again, it could be a very odd mix of both.


have you ever had those moments whereby you've had a weird scramble of three to four dreams simultaneously with its respective plots and supporting actors all jumbled up, wedged in between the precious hours of your deep sleep, that upon waking up, you just feel like there's this huge unexplainable load resting on your chest and on your tired eyes?


i'm sure you have.
and i've been having a lot of that recently.


I'm not sure why, but I have also been having thoughts of my father. then again, I do think of him every now and then. like whenever I see a washed up, bronze Mercedez drive past on the road, or when I help some of my friends choose out neck ties because as a kid, my dad always asked me to choose out a necktie for him to wear to work.


I woke up today with an immensely incomprehensible feeling, just like the several days before this one. as usual, I made my coffee and proceeded to check for whatever notifications I have on my phone like a modern day programmed zombie. and then I read that Robin Williams has passed, and that he had been battling depression as of late.


to quote Nick Hornby in High Fidelity,

"What came first - the music or the misery? Did I listen to the music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to the music?"

rest assured, it's not hot news that I have an affinity for songs with extremely sad meanings. that aside, I am wondering whether I have been feeling on the down low because of recent events or that I'm just predispositioned to feeling low anyway, followed by the events that follow after. and with the news of this great comedic genius passing because of something that I am familiar with, it makes me think of my father all the more. 

for those who knew my father, he was a hilarious man with an infectious energy. maybe not to the standards of Robin Williams, but you could say that he brought much joy to every single person he encountered. he simply was that kind of person who put others needs before his own. but so few knew of the medication he was taking up until the day he left, how much he struggled and battled with his own inner demons, as well as the addiction that he succumbed to every now and then.

if it is true that Robin Williams had been battling depression and addiction,
I can say that I have had my own witnessing of such a sad turmoil.
and I think the saddest part is when it happens to the people you least expected would be affected. 

those who are constantly outputting positive energy,

taking care of those around them,

putting a smile on everyone else's faces behind the facade of their own smile.

I cannot help but be thoroughly affected by such news because the subject matter is so deeply personal to me. because someone I loved and who is responsible for the person I am today had to go through that for most of his life. I guess I just needed a space to coin down my thoughts, and what better place than here. 

I suppose I am feeling quite low today.

and that is okay.

Lay Me Down- Sam Smith

because hearts are difficult.

12:30a.m.
cup of green tea getting cold.
hungry. moderately tired because i've been barista-ing at the restaurant in which the sister is head chef-ing for several days straight, morning until night. partially pissed off because i had to encounter yet another mini episode of family drama upon coming home but it has been an hour since and my heart is on a steady pace now.


once more,
i have been momentarily thrown into the routine of being busy, of always having things to actively do. which i thoroughly enjoy of course. whilst the restaurant is not always blooming with revenue, i find myself entirely buried in many other things such as finishing Nick Hornby's High Fidelity (i bought the book only five days ago), nearly finishing the pages of my thick Paperluxe journal/diary (well this one i've had for two years), and going through Bible verses (this one i rarely do). i have also learnt, over the bloody short course of one week to do coffee art! even with one year of experience frothing milk and pouring silky cappuccinos in Coffee Bean, i NEVER saw myself possible of pouring something aesthetically pretty into a little cup. heck, i never even understood coffee except for the fact that if i'm without it, i'm a big grouch. but yes, as per photos above, i am obviously not very good nor consistent and that is because i have the most little precision for a human being. and hearts are damn hard to do ok. still, it brings me much joy to be quite invested into little things in life like this. still, i am well aware of why i enjoy having things to do because it keeps my mind off itself.

the heart is deceitful above all things;

desperately wicked in all its ways. 

-Jeremiah 17:9

upon being enlightened by that verse more than a week ago, I have gone into a spiral of thinking, contemplating, and foreseeing. there were a lot of questions I had to ask not only myself but also God. being human, the heart wants what the heart wants, but is it good? is it necessary? for what purpose am i seeking this path? what exactly do i want? what exactly do i need? do i really know what i need? is it something i want or need? what will become of me from this? 

seriously.

those are just a portion of a fraction of the questions i ask myself from time to time.

but really, let's talk serious. don't we all as human being obsess over something or someone we want? it could be that really mysteriously quiet guy with his knife sharp cheekbones and slicked back hair with his Macbook Pro and fitted long sleeved top quietly sipping on his cup of latte in the obviously hipster cafe at 10:30 in the night, or getting that geisha-inspired tattoo as a sleeve on the arm so that it can match the prehistoric goth mermaid tattoo on your other arm, or just over a pack of RM1, three piece of makcik punya donat. is there not a degree of which we crave or want something so much that we end up blurring the lines between needing or wanting it? 

i mean.

when it comes to donat makcik,

i just lose self control O__O

doughnuts aside, i found that i had lost a degree of self control in certain areas of my life, loss of control i am not proudest of. yes i am talking about food as well. no i'm not really talking about food as well. but mostly because i blurred the lines between what i thought i needed with what i actually just wanted. because i let my heart be worn on the sleeve when it should be strategically placed much higher, say by the bicep. because that's where my heart should be; at its core of strength, pumping and pushing through life's unexpected surprises and downfalls but remaining steadfast anyhow.

i don't have regrets because i don't believe in regrets.

i do learn because i do believe in learning from every experience. 

i am not sure if i have regained that form of self control i lost but with time, and with the intensity of what i feel in small fractions of time, i believe surely enough that i will be able to let it go. i've been in bigger catastrophes and i have survived them in a much shorter period. i do not undermine the difficulty of my situation and i do not deny how my selfish heart has deceived my thoughts and strayed me away from discerning between what is right and what is wrong. i'm just glad that i braved myself to do what i don't usually do, and instead of using all the chances i had to be bitter and angry and upset, i didn't. 

He who trust his own heart is a fool,

but he who walks wisely will be delivered.

-Proverbs 28:26

let me learn to seek you more, God. may my ears and all its pollutants be dug out so i can hear You more clearly and abide by the plans You have for me.  because that's what You've been telling me for all these years, haven't You?

Child I Will Hurt You- Crystal Castles

because maybe i'm born for this.

lately i'd been really upset about being put in charge for a lot of group projects and handling miscellaneous work. i don't think i have a problem with leading, it just tolls when the people you work with make it less easy by entirely depending on you. and also because i am handling so many projects simultaneously my brain is just 294149018492890rifsajkldkngkjsdz


ironically, i've never self-proclaimed to be a leader.
but then again, i say very little about things concerning myself.


during pastor's message last Sunday, there was a little excerpt on leadership that he mentioned; how depending on a leader for everything and every move is not right. that it is not biblical. i've been trying to find verses and chapters that speak this message clearly. coincidentally, during IO class last Monday which was entirely about and on leadership, the class ended with the usual debate: are leaders born or made? obviously, it is a delicate mesh of the two, as i have always believed. if a person has leadership qualities but grows up without having those qualities trained, sharpened, and moulded with experience, then apa macam? a person that is not necessarily born with leadership qualities, on the other hand, if was raised under the likes of Warren Buffett, Dalai Lama or Donald Trump, would do much better in the future, would you not think?


then Mr F said something before dramatically ending his class (in rehearse):

everyone is born a leader. some people just need to waken up to realize it. the sad thing is some of us would rather not be waken up. 

a week later, yesterday's class was yet on leadership and group work and naturally, i became leader for most of the mini activities. it's not that i enthusiastically raise my arm and demand leadership; i have a tendency of asking those in the group first if anyone wants to take the lead. because i am very aware that the difficulties of taking leadership into hands includes holding the overall responsibilities and being accountable for the entire group. success, mediocrity, and failure are all dependent on you. and also because i always believe that everyone should be given a chance to lead. i had a conversation about this with a friend a couple weeks back and i think i have a rather laidback leadership style. i never volunteer unless i see the situation necessary i.e lacking of other people volunteering. because naturally, i don't mind pun.  


in the last group activity,
i had enthusiastically volunteered to be coordinator [only because i was sick of losing in the previous group activities and i just wanted a break lah] because i thought all i had to do was oversee the entire activity. little did i know that my responsibility was to coordinate the definition of the jobscope could not be more obvious juyi all the little groups to reach a similar target goal at the same time. basically, it was a very challenging, 007-type task with a 8-to-1 probability of failure lah okay. everyone was gan cheong kitchen and i gan cheong kitchen altogether. but we managed and very unbelievably succeeded.


i guess what i'd been meaning to express through the title of this post is how people believe in me and trust me with the responsibility of taking charge. the person who crafted that said activity had told me that her initial choice of coordinator had been me and had i not volunteered, she would have picked me anyway. this same said person, in the timespan of our friendship, has also always made it clear to me that i have a specific skill set when it comes to people and i should not let it go to waste. that i have a lot of potential and i will do exceedingly well in whatsoever field i step into after college. and for someone who is in fact in the working world, i trust her opinions strongly.


perhaps everyone is born to be a leader.
and perhaps, some of us would rather be unawakened because it is much easier to be led than to lead.


and perhaps i need to realize more that being a laidback leader is the easier way.
that i can do a lot more if i volunteer more.
that i need to give myself more chances.
that bigger challenges are better.
that i need to believe in myself more.


Money Power Glory- Lana Del Rey 

because i will do what i want.

recollecting the hours of conversation i shared with Nicole a couple nights ago, I have come to a realization that I no longer question the unfortunate things that have happened in my life simply for the reason that they are heavy. i have comtemplated and wondered and deliberated to a point that I have thoroughly exhausted my own brain and soul.


another recollection of a certain Monday afternoon a couple weeks back when too many thoughts were running through my mind, colliding into each other and causing massive internal explosions. too much new information i was receiving, creating large amounts of cognitive dissonance and equivalently, bouts of anger and disgust and repulsion and antipathy. i have learned the hard way that even those you knew the most won't fail to show you how ultimately low they can steep in the face of adversity and how much they can unconsciously or subconsciously alter and remove their own memories of the past to fit their current biased and solicitous perceptions and judgements. epiphany after epiphany after epiphany formulating bridges in the back of my head. i was sitting right in front of one of my lecturers in his room discussing a specific project.

"JuYi, are you here?"

and just like that, I broke.

shivering. quavering. shaking.

the pain of trying to hold back ones tears and being unable to breathe.

thankfully, that was many weeks back and upon the thoughtful prayer said for me by said lecturer, it has been a gradual step upwards since. recollecting on the conversation I had with Nicole, I see these unfortunate situations that have happened as an ultimate blessing in disguise because had they not happened, I would have not realized more the important people in my life. those who love me for who I am, never holding my life's experiences against me like a dagger, and seeing both my good and bad and accepting me anyway. that i never have to prove to them how much they mean to me. a multicluster of friends that I am so blessed to have. a family that despite being bloody annoying at times, have proven that blood is indeed thicker than water.

I am learning to move on and I think I'm doing pretty well. 

because now, I feel like I can do abso-fucking-lutely whatever I want. I no longer hold the judgmental fear of someone breathing down my back and questionning my every move and motive. I believe the person who knows what I want best is no one other than myself. and shouldn't that be the way for all of us? people will continue influencing us until we decide to influence ourselves. so other than the God Almighty, no one else shall stand as an influence but myself. I will chase the happiness that I choose to have and I cannot be bothered anymore what others may think or prescribe to my actions.  people will always have their two cents worth to say; I will remember that they are only worth so much as two cents. 

Honest- The Neighbourhood

because of another's arms.

often i give the slightly inaccurate impression that i'm a really easy person because i rarely voice out my opinions on matters except if it's on the topic of benedict cumberbatch, some world philosophy, or which place serves the best fried chicken, i tend to go with the flow not the best decision sometimes and because i make myself come off as a really easy person. i dislike arguments and conflict very extremely; if i could, i would avoid any form of conflict at all costs. i don't like the feeling of my blood boiling or the idea that another's blood is boiling. i prefer things to be at room temperature, so to speak. but then again, my thinking is flawed too because what is life if there is no passionate anger every now and then?


and i think that is what attributes to my easy-going personality and how i can talk to almost anyone about almost anything. i feel like i can be a chameleon, not so much disguising myself to the next nearest thing but moreso like an adaptor, adapting to people's personalities, ideas, and thinking styles. and sometimes, i feel like that is truly what i am good at. communicating with people. and i don't mean just talking and asking them where they study or how much they earn at whatsoever job they do; i'm more curious about what's happening in their lives personally.


who are the sensitive spots in their hearts.
what particular event(s) in their lives that caused them to change for the better [or for the worse].
when did they realize that they have become the person that they are today.
where was their first kiss. or first experience to a concert.
why do they mentally choose this solution over the other.
how they managed to climb over specific mountains.


but who really talks like that anymore? 
so few, but the many few whom i've had the opportunity of knowing.


this is a rather conceited statement but more often than not, i feel like very few people truly understand me to the extent of which i try to understand them. this relates back to a self assessment that i did in a class last semester, that what we draw in nine different empty boxes on a paper exemplifies some rooted meaning to what we give to that particular object or person(s). in one of the boxes, it was a simple stick figure of a person. i don't know what it is that made me draw question marks all over the figure, alongside questions like 'who are you?' and 'what do you like?'. when my lecturer was debriefing us after the test, he helped explain that that the box containing the figure illustrates what other people are to you. and further helped analyze the reason for my question marks being because you tend to see people as question marks, giving the person the benefit of the doubt, therefore, you never see people as being easily understood from just the first impressions and that people are alot more than how they seem. which i did find very true to how i am.

honestly,

my lecturer made me sound damn cool lorh pls lol 

but analyses are just analyses

but it's contradictory as i see it from a different perspective now; that maybe that's what people are to me and that is how i treat people because that is the very way i wish to be treated. that i am more than how i seem and how i make myself to be at a present moment. but i find the process of speaking about personal matters so personal, that i only choose to open up if people asked with sincerity and not as a means of being nosy. and if people asked for the sake of knowing me, not forsaking me. that in itself, is not exactly giving the person the benefit of the doubt already because i don't give people in my life a chance. i don't. that some people are constantly trying to understand me but i choose to close myself off because i have this preconceived idea of that person not being able to understand the weight of my ever changing thoughts.

different capacities.

but after consolidated friendship with a certain few, varying from a range of knowing each other for a few months to more than a decade, some people in my life have uncovered their masks, that they are alot more than how i had perceived them to be and how they let themselves be perceived to be. upon chances of having four hour conversations past midnight over supper, Skyping over shared heartbreaks, messaging each other over simultaneous encouragement and support... some people are really a lot more than how they put themselves to be, or that some people are ever growing, ever changing and ever bettering.


all these other arms that have been extended to me.
to pick me up, for me to lean my head on, to hug me in tight embrace,
have led me to believe that we really do depend on another's arms every once in a while.
even if it is a stranger whose name you only find out ten minutes ago.


and with that, there are another's arms that i do miss.
but for what reason?


Another's Arms- Coldplay
[this album is full of simplistic genius tho, please give it a listen]