chasing clouds

25.03.2011 18:18

25.03.2011 19:05

28.03.2011 15:42

30.03.2011 18:55

28.03.2011 19:26

with the workload on me now, all that comfort me are beautifully fluffy candy floss clouds, tidbits for my sweet tooth, and lots of fruits in my oats.

sore thumb torn palms

do you ever doubt yourself sometimes? that somehow under the façade that you put up, the protective layer that you encase yourself up in, that when you wake up everyday and look into the mirror you smile to yourself and say "i'm fabulous" -- a ritual that you must perform -- you actually dont feel like it? you actually felt like unbrushing your already curled hair with their perfect twirls and swirls and lie down back in bed. your mind goes blank, it is dark but you do not black out, you stay wide awake staring into nothingness thinking of nothingness. there is no thoughts in your head. nil. when you had to write about someone, you feel that you cant because you do not know that person, hypothetically or realistically. hypothetically and realistically. you have no clue what to do, your fingers spread out on the keyboard, thumbs on the spacebar, pinkies where they should be. you start to type random words that appear on the blank document, alphabet by alphabet, until you suddenly stop dead in your tracks. no word comes out of your fingertips, like a dry water tap, no visuals in your head, blank, like the remaining page-long word document. you start to think that you were not born to do this, that you are just a clueless bystander, and that is when you start comparing yourself to others. she wrote 600 words in under 15 minutes, why cant you? she finished her jennifer character but you havent embark on your sam. she has brilliant ideas, creative juices evolving into alphabets, words, sentences, paragraphs, whilst your sit there, deadly quiet. stuck. in muck. and when you think you suddenly have a surge of inspiration and resume your typing, feverishly, all ten fingers fleeting the keyboard trying to put your thoughts into words, they disappear again, floating away like the sands of time. the clock is ticking.

what you see

back at sunway after spending the weekend at home, ignoring my cultural and communications policy assignment that is due this friday, and home for cheng beng.

sun rise from the chinese cemetery atop machang bubok hill at 8am

there was a problem with the train that we were on on friday, and as it stopped momentarily at the ipoh station we took advantage of it to snap a few pictures out the window, the view was phenomenal! my first time on the train from kl back home was more memorable with him by me :)

apparently a cargo train overturned and we had to alight at the ipoh station, take a bus to taiping station, then transit from there back home. he called his cousin at ipoh to the rescue and we reached home safely far before the bus would have even reach taiping!

the ipoh train station

ipoh city hall during dusk, looking majestic

currently having a fruits craving, especially for grapes and those cute-looking kiwiberries!

now back to ccp readings and essay. ohwow, interesting. (read: sarcasm)

it's in me,

deeply etched in the depths of my mind, this forever21 mulberry alexa look-not-so-alike,

and making its way down my throat and eventually down my digestive system, avocado and unagi sushi rolls from sushi zanmai! his personal delivery made it all the more tastier :)

as much as she wants to lay down and rest her mind and body from stressing over her writing assignment due friday, she cannot just yet. fortunately there are motivators encouraging her on!

six

today, all taken with his htc desire hd. loving the vignette and vintage effects.

1. dad's vintage watch, now mine
2. him forever playing fifa on iphone
3. the train station
4. our feet shots
5. a happy-faced bouncy rubber ball
6. second hand dr jekyll and mr hyde for only rm4

supposed to check out university of nottingham's booth at the uk education fair today, but they didnt show. ohwell, researching for a master's degree is as tough as the program itself i guess :/ but we did find a decent purse for me, since my almost-4-year-old h&m one is starting to fall apart.

a walk in the (theme)park

his family went up to genting highlands for a trip, so he grabbed his netbook, me my books and we headed up. it was nice just to walk around in cold weather for a change.

mocha and cappuccino, lights, resting monorail wormies, lamborghini, stained glass, baskin robbins in 14 degree weather, stuffed mascot toys, chandeliers, happy old people on a mural outside the casino, world map international times, another colourful mural, clock tower

a prayer

She ran her slender fingers over the length of the cat's body, she was eating out of her food tray. The crunching sounds made as pieces of food were squashed between her sharp teeth, she ate hungrily. Ocean fish and salmon pockets, her favourite, with the occasional dried anchovies and fish heads. Her body of pure white fur had start to shed, as she stroked the back of the cat's body with practiced motions from the nape of her neck to the tip of the tail the length of her body.

She has been here for a year, since she was a baby barely a month old. Separated from her mother when she fell into a wet drain, almost drowned to death if not for her sharp ears that heard her faint meow on that fateful hot afternoon. Both she and her sister tried fervently to rescue it, first trying to scoop it out with her bare hands, leaning into the drain with buttocks to the sky. But it did not work, she was too far away, the drain too deep.Finally her sister stepped onto the walls of the drain, feet apart, constantly adjusting the weight of her body on both legs as to balance herself.

Slowly lowering her torso deeper into the drain, she reached out for the little thing, still meowing with what energy that her tiny body can allow for. Perhaps she saw the hand reaching out for her, as the echoes of her meowing got closer she was waddling like a duckling, threading painstakingly over the filthy drain water, a mix of detergent and waste residue from the houses nearby it. Her sister kept encouraging her on. Come little one, almost there, here, come here.

After what seemed like hours, she did. Her sister scooped her up, putting her onto the pavement by the drain, the little thing of complete white coat with gem blue eyes all soaked in filth, meowing louder and staggering to get closer to their feet for safety. They carried her into the house, cleaned her dirty fur until she was as white as snow again. Exhausted from her terrifying experience, she slept in her arms, in the midst of all the washing and drying. She was really tiny, the size of her palm.

It's slowly getting dark outside, and it's raining. She saw him getting on his trusty old bike, balancing an umbrella in his right hand, taking off in the direction opposite the house, a worried expression blanketing his wrinkly face. They took off too, with umbrellas in hand, in search of her, shouting out her name. Beating around the bushes that she normally loved to play under with a rattan stick, threading through puddles, looking into dark corners and alleyways. No sign of her pure white body. No sign of that familiar meow.

A silhouette appeared from afar, a shadow on a bike with an umbrella in hand. Grandpa slowed down to a halt before the gates, exceptionally quiet. We looked at each other, frowned, observed a droop in our shoulders and facial expressions, lowered our heads as we tried our best to control the tears from falling. But doing so shattered our fragile hearts into pieces instead. Now we can only pray and hope that she comes back home safe and sound, that familiar meow ringing at the back of my head, and her lithe white body running about happily in my mind's eye and dreams.

"a prayer"

blackhumour 201103122309

onetwobucklemyshoe

today,

1. kaireen gave us these sisterhood-of-the-travelling-chain necklaces she bought from jakarta, and

2. he came to sunway and we had a gastronomical time at asia cafe with another friend!

she's stocking up on more criminal minds, and when there's enough she'll start on her assignments. soon.

cloud nine twice

"Train to Birmingham arriving at platform six." Gary stands up from his squatting position, pushing his right palm against a wall, stabilising his groggy body with all his might. Putting on his Raybans and adjusting his shirt, last night's visuals still haunt him. His ribs protruding from his torso, that guy had hit him hard. His aching stomach starts to worry him, his throat now dry, and his limbs now wobbly from having to put up with all this. This is a busy station, but still, nobody amidst this crowd saw his pain and agony. Incapable of holding on, Gary finally drops unconscious. A lady standing by Gary shouts, and a kind soul dials 911. His vision blurring him, Gary drifts into a land of unknown.

it's fulfilling, yaknow, the feeling when your name had been called by your lecturer to read out aloud your narratives while your writings are being showcased via the overhead projector in front of the entire class. how about if you doubled that feeling? ecstatic it was! bonus was when she commented "narrative seems effortlessly composed as it's fluid" when in reality i was having a hard time cracking my brain open trying to form a whole paragraph without the letter "e"! honestly i thought i managed without any "e"s until after i sent her my piece and read through that i accidentally put in an "e"! nevertheless, yays X) that my first ever writing unit in uni went way better than i had expected it too!

Kayla Grace All the way to the waist
Ribbons and pearls and pink bows
Unicorns and Rapunzel and fairytales
Feelings and emotions and all those struggling relationships

fight the battle

in the process of falling sick, getting well, and falling sick again. vicious cycle this is, and the doctor prescribed double doses of medication. but then, these pictures made the flu all the more bearable.

lanvin fw2011 finale; rodarte fw2011, love the wheat-painted fabrics; olga kurylenko, i want all that she has on her; phenomenal wedding-dress-appropriate masterpiece of tulle from marchesa's fw2011 collection; alexa chung, forever doing no wrong,

images from: style(dot)com, models(dot)com, fashiongonerogue, studdedhearts

shall resume with my taiwan diaries around next week; i barely blogged about it.

red dates

10 red dates, some rock sugar, 2 cups of water

bring water to a boil. add in red dates and rock sugar. squish red dates when they're soften. leave to boil until water turns a reddish brown. taste. add water/rock sugar if necessary. continue boiling till the smell of red dates fill the kitchen and eventually the whole house, squishing the dates occasionally. taste again. when taste is satisfactory, bring mixture to a simmer and eventually turn heat off and let it cool.

strain off the bits and parts of red dates until a clean juice is left. enjoy!

it tastes better with one leaf of pandan. that's what grandma taught me.

on a side note, to hell with animal abusers.

nailbiting in anticipation

first day of the last semester of my degree life today, had a cultural and communication policy lecture as well as a nerve-wrecking-3-hours-straight writing techniques class. i bet i looked like xiaoxiao up there -- all wide eyed-slash-being nervous and biting on stuff (nails) -- when dr. sharon asked us to write about ourselves and our writing styles. i have never spat out so much fragmented stories. writing class was a breath of fresh air for me, so different from the lectures we have, allowing us free reign of our imagination, creativity as well as free flow of emotions.

when we were asked to describe one of our dreams, i wrote about this nightmare i had of purple spiders with claws at the tip of its dangly legs. the nightmare was so vivid that when she asked us again to describe our emotions during the dream if possible, i could recall them as though i have just went through them. it was horrifyingly scary at the moment of writing, i had to stop and close my eyes, and in my mind's eye i could see myself reliving the scene all over again.

but it was therapeutic to be able to do that, releasing all my fears in writing. my heart throbbed along with my brain going through the entire process, but i felt as though a heavy burden was lifted off me. it was stressful to write on demand, but it was fun all the same. although i did some serious blunders for some of the exercises, i am looking forward to next week's class, anticipating what she has to say for my writings in what she calls "clinical exercises" to see how far is our writing abilities.

9 to 2 class tomorrow, non-stop. looking forward to it.