Tuesday, October 31, 2006
It's time to say goodbye to this blog.
About time, really. It's been a good 2 years since I started it, and it has lots of memories, both good and bad.
A time of adolescence, recorded in all its childish splendour. At times I'm almost embarrassed by the horrid details embedded in here. Was I ever so foolish, so self-absorbed, so petty and selfish?
Perhaps I still am. I am, after all, still within a period possibly acknowledged as adolescence. I have a long way to go before true maturity. I am, as many still love to say, a child. A foolish, immature, silly little kid.
Ah, the taste of bitterness tainting those words. Yes, it's been a bitter, cynical 2 years since. Despite the cheeriness, the carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude, the bitterness that was seared into the darkest depths of my soul still lingered on like a bad memory. It was never gone fully, was it?
But enough of that sweet poison. This is the last post, it should at least be a little more elegaic in essence. Well, at least that's what is should be. But then again, I've never been much for elegance, have I? I might make up all the pretty showings of graceful courtesy, but my coarse upbringing rears its ugly head ever so often. How distressing.
Enough of courtly pretensions. I can't truly say what brought this on. It just felt right somehow. Being on the brink of taking the A Level exams, a phase that will signal the end of an era and the beginning of another section of my life, I should perhaps also close that chapter of my life with this act. It seems most appropriate, in some uniquely obscure manner that probably makes sense only to me.
Well, it's been a long journey. Many thanks to the readers who, for some perverse reason or other, have accompanied myself along this perilous journey to some understanding. I cannot fathom why anyone would find my blog an entertaining read, unless you happen to be Kanai, who is virtually a twisted (in a good way!) reflection of myself. She finds my moments of insanity amusing, for whatever reason. I think she knows rather well that I'm faking it with aplomb, and is sharing the joke with myself as well. After all, two liars and puppeteers recognise each other's trade when they encounter it.
Ah, too many secrets. Musn't reveal too much. And then again, who really understands us if they are not like ourselves?
Time to say farewell now, I suppose. It has been fun, writing for pure entertainment and narcissistic pleasure. I won't delete this blog, after all, it does hold many precious memories, though some I would rather gladly excise from living memory if I could possibly help it. Ah, what nonsense, we should accept life as it is, with both good and bad. No point obscuring the truth for the sake of some ephemeral notion of pride and honour.
Well well, I'm getting really naggy. Will stop now. Farewell, and take care.
...like hell. Have fun and live life! To hell with caution! Cheers!
静.绚湖 拜上
此后在此处绝笔
后会无期了！
]
About time, really. It's been a good 2 years since I started it, and it has lots of memories, both good and bad.
A time of adolescence, recorded in all its childish splendour. At times I'm almost embarrassed by the horrid details embedded in here. Was I ever so foolish, so self-absorbed, so petty and selfish?
Perhaps I still am. I am, after all, still within a period possibly acknowledged as adolescence. I have a long way to go before true maturity. I am, as many still love to say, a child. A foolish, immature, silly little kid.
Ah, the taste of bitterness tainting those words. Yes, it's been a bitter, cynical 2 years since. Despite the cheeriness, the carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude, the bitterness that was seared into the darkest depths of my soul still lingered on like a bad memory. It was never gone fully, was it?
But enough of that sweet poison. This is the last post, it should at least be a little more elegaic in essence. Well, at least that's what is should be. But then again, I've never been much for elegance, have I? I might make up all the pretty showings of graceful courtesy, but my coarse upbringing rears its ugly head ever so often. How distressing.
Enough of courtly pretensions. I can't truly say what brought this on. It just felt right somehow. Being on the brink of taking the A Level exams, a phase that will signal the end of an era and the beginning of another section of my life, I should perhaps also close that chapter of my life with this act. It seems most appropriate, in some uniquely obscure manner that probably makes sense only to me.
Well, it's been a long journey. Many thanks to the readers who, for some perverse reason or other, have accompanied myself along this perilous journey to some understanding. I cannot fathom why anyone would find my blog an entertaining read, unless you happen to be Kanai, who is virtually a twisted (in a good way!) reflection of myself. She finds my moments of insanity amusing, for whatever reason. I think she knows rather well that I'm faking it with aplomb, and is sharing the joke with myself as well. After all, two liars and puppeteers recognise each other's trade when they encounter it.
Ah, too many secrets. Musn't reveal too much. And then again, who really understands us if they are not like ourselves?
Time to say farewell now, I suppose. It has been fun, writing for pure entertainment and narcissistic pleasure. I won't delete this blog, after all, it does hold many precious memories, though some I would rather gladly excise from living memory if I could possibly help it. Ah, what nonsense, we should accept life as it is, with both good and bad. No point obscuring the truth for the sake of some ephemeral notion of pride and honour.
Well well, I'm getting really naggy. Will stop now. Farewell, and take care.
...like hell. Have fun and live life! To hell with caution! Cheers!
静.绚湖 拜上
此后在此处绝笔
后会无期了！
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Rat soup! Rat soup!
And that fufills the obligatory weird anime reference of the day.
Sorry, its past midnight and I'm being severely weird.
Is it me or am I seeing more twincest than I like in my anime watchings? Actually, not that many. So far I've seen the Tweedle twins from Kiddy Grade, the devilish yaoi twins in Ouran, and the yuri twincest in Simoun. See, I have one from every category, het, yaoi, and yuri. Lol.
Although, obviously, the only pair that have actually done anything at all to qualify it as actual incest is the last one. The Tweedle pair is one sided (the sister being oblivious to her brother's obsession), and the Ouran twins are just pretending to be gay for each other in order to fufill the stereotype (its really hilariously OTT).
Ahem, nevertheless...
*spazzes out randomly*
Umbrellas are gay!
Another obscure anime reference. Don't ask.
Although, going with that reasoning, it would also account that pianos are gay, rose gardens are gay, sea shells are gay (especially the pink ones), greenhouses are gay, catholics are gay...oops?
Sorry about the last one. Catholics are not gay. *cough*
(little voice whispers: then what about all the Alucard/Anderson slash in Hellsing?)
AHEM. Not the point here.
Going with the typical anime illogic, that's the kind of weird trashy reasoning that appears if you do it that way. After all, the prevalence of said cliched stereotypes makes it highly entertaining to draw connections to.
Ok my brain is officially not working. *has entered babble-spaz-rant mode*
Pinky and the Brain, the Pinky and the Brain~~~
Um, ignore that.
And if I see anymore of the cliched "storm the wedding" scenes, I'll either puke or die of laughter. Possibly both.
Which would then probably result in a stunning display of technicolor projectile-vomiting, complete with echoing sound effects and artistic shades of psychedelic colors against a monochrome background.
Ok that was disgusting, even for me.
Archery is gay.
See Chikane. See Stopani. See Legolas, damnit. How can a guy with hair like that (not to mention all the other effeminate qualities) not be gay?
Lol. Everything I've said thus far should be taken with copious doses of salt, preferably at Dead Sea levels. Braindead, remember?
Now for some old school live action reference that is probably unique to me and possible invisible to the unwary eye.
The classic "ZOMG I PWN YOU WITH MY SHINING THINGIES OF HEART-SHAPIES AND BUBBLY THINGS!!"
I think I might have inadvertently referenced Utena with the "shining thing" comment.
As my IQ progressively dwindles to zero (possibly below that already), I shall further embarrass myself with more stupid lines to laugh at when I'm in the right mind at a future date.
*must...resist...urge...to...make...Pokemon reference...*
...and it comes to my ever-unravelling attention that a very odd line has come to take on great comedic potential in my addled brain. And it is:
"Please marry me."
Lol. Marimite, one of the classiest anime I've seen, yet also has the most hilarious outtakes I've also ever seen.
Drunk!Shimako and Drunk!Sachiko aside, the classic stereotype of Rei and Yoshino into the battered housewife and abusive "husband" in their non-relationship in the NG scenes were dealt with spectacularly.
...and the inspired "Ohohoho!"ing of one Mizuno Youko in the last special of Haru nearly ruined my face as my facial muscles spontaneously decided to go into wracked spasms wrought from laughing fits.
Animated hair also has a tendency to take on a life on their own.
Watch Arika. See Yumi in the specials. Touko's Drill-like hairstyle...hence her nickname "Drill".
And I categorically refuse to even talk about Millia Rage.
Incidentally, this trash-filled post is just a kind of "oh well, let's make up for what little time is left on my com" kind of post.
Mostly because I like to reread my own blog, and stupidity like this type of post amuses me. I'm odd, so sue me.
Anyway, my tendency to ramble is already getting out of hand, so ja ne!
]
And that fufills the obligatory weird anime reference of the day.
Sorry, its past midnight and I'm being severely weird.
Is it me or am I seeing more twincest than I like in my anime watchings? Actually, not that many. So far I've seen the Tweedle twins from Kiddy Grade, the devilish yaoi twins in Ouran, and the yuri twincest in Simoun. See, I have one from every category, het, yaoi, and yuri. Lol.
Although, obviously, the only pair that have actually done anything at all to qualify it as actual incest is the last one. The Tweedle pair is one sided (the sister being oblivious to her brother's obsession), and the Ouran twins are just pretending to be gay for each other in order to fufill the stereotype (its really hilariously OTT).
Ahem, nevertheless...
*spazzes out randomly*
Umbrellas are gay!
Another obscure anime reference. Don't ask.
Although, going with that reasoning, it would also account that pianos are gay, rose gardens are gay, sea shells are gay (especially the pink ones), greenhouses are gay, catholics are gay...oops?
Sorry about the last one. Catholics are not gay. *cough*
(little voice whispers: then what about all the Alucard/Anderson slash in Hellsing?)
AHEM. Not the point here.
Going with the typical anime illogic, that's the kind of weird trashy reasoning that appears if you do it that way. After all, the prevalence of said cliched stereotypes makes it highly entertaining to draw connections to.
Ok my brain is officially not working. *has entered babble-spaz-rant mode*
Pinky and the Brain, the Pinky and the Brain~~~
Um, ignore that.
And if I see anymore of the cliched "storm the wedding" scenes, I'll either puke or die of laughter. Possibly both.
Which would then probably result in a stunning display of technicolor projectile-vomiting, complete with echoing sound effects and artistic shades of psychedelic colors against a monochrome background.
Ok that was disgusting, even for me.
Archery is gay.
See Chikane. See Stopani. See Legolas, damnit. How can a guy with hair like that (not to mention all the other effeminate qualities) not be gay?
Lol. Everything I've said thus far should be taken with copious doses of salt, preferably at Dead Sea levels. Braindead, remember?
Now for some old school live action reference that is probably unique to me and possible invisible to the unwary eye.
The classic "ZOMG I PWN YOU WITH MY SHINING THINGIES OF HEART-SHAPIES AND BUBBLY THINGS!!"
I think I might have inadvertently referenced Utena with the "shining thing" comment.
As my IQ progressively dwindles to zero (possibly below that already), I shall further embarrass myself with more stupid lines to laugh at when I'm in the right mind at a future date.
*must...resist...urge...to...make...Pokemon reference...*
...and it comes to my ever-unravelling attention that a very odd line has come to take on great comedic potential in my addled brain. And it is:
"Please marry me."
Lol. Marimite, one of the classiest anime I've seen, yet also has the most hilarious outtakes I've also ever seen.
Drunk!Shimako and Drunk!Sachiko aside, the classic stereotype of Rei and Yoshino into the battered housewife and abusive "husband" in their non-relationship in the NG scenes were dealt with spectacularly.
...and the inspired "Ohohoho!"ing of one Mizuno Youko in the last special of Haru nearly ruined my face as my facial muscles spontaneously decided to go into wracked spasms wrought from laughing fits.
Animated hair also has a tendency to take on a life on their own.
Watch Arika. See Yumi in the specials. Touko's Drill-like hairstyle...hence her nickname "Drill".
And I categorically refuse to even talk about Millia Rage.
Incidentally, this trash-filled post is just a kind of "oh well, let's make up for what little time is left on my com" kind of post.
Mostly because I like to reread my own blog, and stupidity like this type of post amuses me. I'm odd, so sue me.
Anyway, my tendency to ramble is already getting out of hand, so ja ne!
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Well, today marks the last day of my slackiness in work. I think.
I'm moving over to my cousin's place for the next month in order to stay focused for the last stretch heading towards the exams.
In short, I'm pulling a Satou Sei.
Lol. Watch Marimite episode 7, towards the end.
It's one of the funnier episodes. Especially the parts where the Roses (3rd years) had to step in to convince the boutons (Sachiko, Rei, Shimako) to accept the Valentine's Day game challenge. Yumi's observations were hilarious, as follows.
> Scene Start: In the Rose Mansion
> Youko, Sei and Eriko have just arrived
Sachiko: If you order it, we have no choice but to go along reluctantly.
Youko: You're being stubborn as usual.
Sachiko: And who was it who chose a stubborn person as her soeur?
Youko: It was I. So I want you to be more flexible. I want you to mingle with the students. What's wrong with that? You've started to have such nice facial expressions ever since you made Yumi-chan your soeur, right? ^__~
> Sachiko and Yumi wear identical expressions of 0__0
Sachiko: <__<
> Yumi voiceover - Round One: Sachiko-sama is KO'd.
> Camera shift to Foetida family
Eriko: Rei.
Rei: *blinks, nervous* Yes?
Eriko: You know what I'm going to say, right?
Rei: *blink blink*
Eriko: ^___^
Rei: -__- I'll cooperate with the Newspaper Club.
Yoshino: *pops in* I refuse! Don't you think you're going too far by pressuring her like this, Rosa Foetida? And you, Rei-chan!
Eriko: I'm speaking with Rei right now. I don't want someone who isn't involved to butt in.
Yoshino: *is taken aback*
Rei: *whispering to Yoshino* Don't you see that the more adamant you are about this, the more you stir up Onee-sama (Rosa Foetida)?
Eriko: *smugly* You still have a long way to go Yoshino-chan.
> Round Two: Rei-sama and Yoshino-san forfeit the match.
> Camera shifts to the Giganteas
> Round Three
Sei: That's how it is, so do your best, okay? ^__^
Shimako: I understand. *without changing expression*
> Sei-sama wins by default.
That was hilarious. That last line nailed me. Yumi's assessment of how each of the Roses handled their soeurs were funny. It just seems perfectly normal for Sei to win by default, Shimako would never contradict her lol.
Of course, my point here is not the humor. I said that I was 'pulling a Satou Sei' due to a comment that popped up when Sei and Yumi were talking towards the end of the episode. I won't mention the comment, but I find the parallel amusing nevertheless.
Personally, if I were put in Lillian Yamayurikai, I would most likely end up part of the Gigantea branch. Either that or in the Foetida branch. I'm not serious enough to be in the Chinensis branch lol.
So, last post in a month, most likely. I might drop in to update about my progress in my studies, but don't hold your breath waiting.
Oh and konks, if you need to contact me, use email. I might take a while to respond though. So yeah. ^__^
And now to laugh at Drunk!Shimako again in the Maria-sama ni wa naisho outtakes again. ^__~
]
I'm moving over to my cousin's place for the next month in order to stay focused for the last stretch heading towards the exams.
In short, I'm pulling a Satou Sei.
Lol. Watch Marimite episode 7, towards the end.
It's one of the funnier episodes. Especially the parts where the Roses (3rd years) had to step in to convince the boutons (Sachiko, Rei, Shimako) to accept the Valentine's Day game challenge. Yumi's observations were hilarious, as follows.
> Scene Start: In the Rose Mansion
> Youko, Sei and Eriko have just arrived
Sachiko: If you order it, we have no choice but to go along reluctantly.
Youko: You're being stubborn as usual.
Sachiko: And who was it who chose a stubborn person as her soeur?
Youko: It was I. So I want you to be more flexible. I want you to mingle with the students. What's wrong with that? You've started to have such nice facial expressions ever since you made Yumi-chan your soeur, right? ^__~
> Sachiko and Yumi wear identical expressions of 0__0
Sachiko: <__<
> Yumi voiceover - Round One: Sachiko-sama is KO'd.
> Camera shift to Foetida family
Eriko: Rei.
Rei: *blinks, nervous* Yes?
Eriko: You know what I'm going to say, right?
Rei: *blink blink*
Eriko: ^___^
Rei: -__- I'll cooperate with the Newspaper Club.
Yoshino: *pops in* I refuse! Don't you think you're going too far by pressuring her like this, Rosa Foetida? And you, Rei-chan!
Eriko: I'm speaking with Rei right now. I don't want someone who isn't involved to butt in.
Yoshino: *is taken aback*
Rei: *whispering to Yoshino* Don't you see that the more adamant you are about this, the more you stir up Onee-sama (Rosa Foetida)?
Eriko: *smugly* You still have a long way to go Yoshino-chan.
> Round Two: Rei-sama and Yoshino-san forfeit the match.
> Camera shifts to the Giganteas
> Round Three
Sei: That's how it is, so do your best, okay? ^__^
Shimako: I understand. *without changing expression*
> Sei-sama wins by default.
That was hilarious. That last line nailed me. Yumi's assessment of how each of the Roses handled their soeurs were funny. It just seems perfectly normal for Sei to win by default, Shimako would never contradict her lol.
Of course, my point here is not the humor. I said that I was 'pulling a Satou Sei' due to a comment that popped up when Sei and Yumi were talking towards the end of the episode. I won't mention the comment, but I find the parallel amusing nevertheless.
Personally, if I were put in Lillian Yamayurikai, I would most likely end up part of the Gigantea branch. Either that or in the Foetida branch. I'm not serious enough to be in the Chinensis branch lol.
So, last post in a month, most likely. I might drop in to update about my progress in my studies, but don't hold your breath waiting.
Oh and konks, if you need to contact me, use email. I might take a while to respond though. So yeah. ^__^
And now to laugh at Drunk!Shimako again in the Maria-sama ni wa naisho outtakes again. ^__~
Friday, September 29, 2006
I'm personally glad that my latest drabble series is coming by decently.
Stopani-based, naturally. Miyuki-centered, as usual.
I think ficeler37 was right, we seem to have a student-council-president fetish. It's all Shizuru's fault. Lol.
I'm having fun trying to characterise Miyuki, because I...just identify with the girl. Only in certain respects, mind. We're a lot different. But I feel like I understand her motivations, so that isn't so bad.
Am wracking my head over how to properly convey Miyuki and Kaori's relationship. After all, Miyuki was Shizuma's best friend, and Shizuma and Kaori were dating. Besides, Kaori trusted Miyuki enough to 'entrust' Shizuma to Miyuki before she died. I think that says a lot.
Enough about that though. I'm liking Miyuki's character. She's inherently flawed, not quite as selfless as Youko (of Marimite fame) was, and very human. I like her. Haha. She's the kind of character that's actually plausible in real life. Lol.
Still, glad that the drabbles are turning out fine. It's a challenge to keep everything short and self-contained to within 100-200 words, while still managing to bring out the meaning and emotions. I think I might have underestimated drabble writing; it isn't quite as easy as I first thought it to be.
Still listening to Inori no Uta, it's really growing on me. The first time I heard it was on the Simoun ED track, and I like the way it started, so I went and got the song. It's really rather nice.
Incidentally, another song I have is called Sei Otome no Inori, from the Mai Otome soundtrack. I will have to check the kanji, but I believe it translates to Prayer of the Holy Maiden. It would fit with the track though, the background 'voice' is definitely female and holy-ish. There's no other way to put it properly I'm afraid.
It's amazing the number of random japanese words and phrases one picks up while listening to foreign language songs and watching their shows. Of course, there are so many more subtleties about said language that I will probably take ages to figure it out this way.
Did you know that there was the polite form of speech in japanese that is almost completely different from 'regular' japanese? I didn't really realise that until I stumbled upon it on DarkMirage's blog. He was giving mini-lecture/lessons on the japanese language lol. I found it rather enlightening. ^__^
As of now, I can pick out two distinct dialects of japanese, namely the Kyoto and Kansai ones. I blame Mai Hime and Yamibou for it. Curse Shizuru and her damnably sexy Kyoto-ben. And the fox spirit's excessive use of the Kansai dialect (while drunk no less), which the translators made a special note of in the fansubs.
Still, fascinating business. Apparently konks uses an Osaka dialect (or so she says, I'm not sure), though I can't remember if it was that or something else...eh...brain dead...
Well, if you'll excuse me. *bows*
]
Stopani-based, naturally. Miyuki-centered, as usual.
I think ficeler37 was right, we seem to have a student-council-president fetish. It's all Shizuru's fault. Lol.
I'm having fun trying to characterise Miyuki, because I...just identify with the girl. Only in certain respects, mind. We're a lot different. But I feel like I understand her motivations, so that isn't so bad.
Am wracking my head over how to properly convey Miyuki and Kaori's relationship. After all, Miyuki was Shizuma's best friend, and Shizuma and Kaori were dating. Besides, Kaori trusted Miyuki enough to 'entrust' Shizuma to Miyuki before she died. I think that says a lot.
Enough about that though. I'm liking Miyuki's character. She's inherently flawed, not quite as selfless as Youko (of Marimite fame) was, and very human. I like her. Haha. She's the kind of character that's actually plausible in real life. Lol.
Still, glad that the drabbles are turning out fine. It's a challenge to keep everything short and self-contained to within 100-200 words, while still managing to bring out the meaning and emotions. I think I might have underestimated drabble writing; it isn't quite as easy as I first thought it to be.
Still listening to Inori no Uta, it's really growing on me. The first time I heard it was on the Simoun ED track, and I like the way it started, so I went and got the song. It's really rather nice.
Incidentally, another song I have is called Sei Otome no Inori, from the Mai Otome soundtrack. I will have to check the kanji, but I believe it translates to Prayer of the Holy Maiden. It would fit with the track though, the background 'voice' is definitely female and holy-ish. There's no other way to put it properly I'm afraid.
It's amazing the number of random japanese words and phrases one picks up while listening to foreign language songs and watching their shows. Of course, there are so many more subtleties about said language that I will probably take ages to figure it out this way.
Did you know that there was the polite form of speech in japanese that is almost completely different from 'regular' japanese? I didn't really realise that until I stumbled upon it on DarkMirage's blog. He was giving mini-lecture/lessons on the japanese language lol. I found it rather enlightening. ^__^
As of now, I can pick out two distinct dialects of japanese, namely the Kyoto and Kansai ones. I blame Mai Hime and Yamibou for it. Curse Shizuru and her damnably sexy Kyoto-ben. And the fox spirit's excessive use of the Kansai dialect (while drunk no less), which the translators made a special note of in the fansubs.
Still, fascinating business. Apparently konks uses an Osaka dialect (or so she says, I'm not sure), though I can't remember if it was that or something else...eh...brain dead...
Well, if you'll excuse me. *bows*
I can't hear anything
I can't see anything
I don't want to listen to them scream
I don't want to see them yell
There is nothing around me
Nothing at all
Yes that's right
Nothing at all
They're not real
I don't want to see them
Don't wanna hear them
They're not real
They can't hurt me
They're not real
]
I can't see anything
I don't want to listen to them scream
I don't want to see them yell
There is nothing around me
Nothing at all
Yes that's right
Nothing at all
They're not real
I don't want to see them
Don't wanna hear them
They're not real
They can't hurt me
They're not real
Song Playing: savage genius - Inori no Uta
Yes, that's important.
As for how and why, leave that to me.
The title translates to Prayer Song, or something along those lines.
I haven't prayed for very long. I've forgotten what it's like to really pray with faith.
You know, sometimes, even with this medium of communication, which I'm most comfortable with, communicating the meanings in my heart can still be really tough.
And then, sometimes even harder to speak. I just end up singing songs to express myself sometimes. The melody and the lyrics help to ease the pressure that unspoken words cause.
What do I want to say here? Many things. So many things, that sometimes even all the words in the world can't express.
Looking up again at the 'Song Playing', it's somehow ironic. Yes, the artiste of the song is 'savage genius', and that somehow relates to me. Lol.
As for 'Inori no Uta', sometimes it feels that way. Even if I can't hope, I still pray. Not for myself, but for others. For my friends, my loved ones, even the ones I hate.
I can't pray for myself anymore. It just seems so...wrong to do so.
No, you don't get it either. The words for any prayer for myself seem hard to come by. They are all wrong. What can I pray for myself?
For safety? From what?
For love? For whom, and for what purpose?
For success? Why?
For peace? God, is that even possible anymore?
I know. For safety from myself. For the love of me. For peace of mind. These are the things I should be praying for. Except that I don't believe in God anymore. Oh, God is still there, I think. I just don't believe anymore. So whether God is there or not doesn't matter.
People keep telling me I'm cynical. Sou desu. The shell is, as usual.
What you see, what you experience, that's the shell you see of me. That's Huimin. That's the awkward girl who still trips over her own feet. That's the cynic, whom you so decry.
There are many of me. 'Huimin' is one out of many identities. Chaos, my masculine side, otherwise known as cynical perverted bastard.
But even then, Chaos isn't really that bad. He cares for people too, he just doesn't show it. He's evil sometimes, but rather than being immoral, he's just amoral. He just doesn't care about morality and ethics. Whether he deliberately acts in contrary to them is another issue altogether. Which he doesn't. He doesn't break rules for the sake of breaking rules. He breaks rules because they're getting in his way. Otherwise he leaves them alone. It's that simple. That doesn't make him good, but he's not fundamentally evil, that's certain.
Then there's Estrea, the kind big sister figure. Teasing, flirting, sometimes sneaky and unscrupulous, but really just a big softie. Her almost genki nature is a bit unsettling sometimes. Estrea is very very two-faced. To those who don't know her well, she's hyper and happy and overdramatic. To those who she's comfortable with, she reveals a darker side, angry and poisonous, a self-consuming darkness. In the end, Estrea is just a facade for the darkness underneath.
Which brings us to Krista. Krista is very similar to Estrea, but more calculated, more refined in a sense. Not really given to the kind of hyper happiness Estrea possesses, but has a more 'princely' air to her. Pseudo-cool, a more feminine version of Chaos, minus the coarseness. I never explained the reasoning of the name 'Krista', have I? Only to Chengwei I think. Ah well.
Krista bears similarity to 'kris', which in malay means 'dagger' or 'knife'. That's who Krista is, sharp, dangerous. And it also represents a cut, loosening the bonds between past and future. Krista is the future, my future, the future I'm seeking to become. Similarly, 'Krista' reminds me of crystal, multifaceted, a prism reflected within when held up to the light. Strong, yet fragile. That's what it means to be Krista. A crystal knife.
I'm not Krista. But I'm working towards it. It's strange. Evolution always is. I'm her, yet not her. Not yet. Not quite yet. Too many factors to take into account.
The night. Is falling. Night is where I'm most in my element. I feel less inhibited in the dark. I wonder if it's possible to get a night job. I would willingly turn myself into a pseudo-vampire by working nights and sleeping in the day.
I hate the light of day. I hated mornings. The night is not frightening to me. The night is less harsh on the eyes. In the night, I cannot see my hands.
I hated my hands. Long fingered, wide-palmed, large, rough hands. I cannot remember why I loathed them so much. I'm pretty sure they did nothing to deserve it. I'm grateful for how useful they are to me, but at the same time, I cannot bear to look at them.
It's a Macbeth thing, I swear. "Out damn spot, out I say!" Classic.
Similarly, I see blood on my hands. Filth and blood and guilt and sin. Again, there really isn't much justification for it.
Call it a fascination with self-flagellation. Some kind of obscure sadistic instinct to torture myself, maybe? I just like to see myself suffer really. Odd reasoning though.
How do I explain myself? Explaining myself. It seems that I have been doing nothing BUT explain myself since the day I lost the ability to have someone else defend me.
I'm just so sick of having to explain myself. So sick of having to label myself this or that. So sick of trying to justify and condemn my actions.
Why the hell do you think I just sit there and remain mute when people ask me? Pure defiance? Perhaps. But I'm just so tired of defending myself. Condemn me, judge me, just don't have me explain myself.
Or I could stand up and do something to stop the accusations. Do something right, and it will stop. But what is right anymore? God. It's comfortable yes, in my own personal hell. I don't want to talk to them, please don't make me talk to them.
Excuse me while I go rot in this shell of mine.
]
Yes, that's important.
As for how and why, leave that to me.
The title translates to Prayer Song, or something along those lines.
I haven't prayed for very long. I've forgotten what it's like to really pray with faith.
You know, sometimes, even with this medium of communication, which I'm most comfortable with, communicating the meanings in my heart can still be really tough.
And then, sometimes even harder to speak. I just end up singing songs to express myself sometimes. The melody and the lyrics help to ease the pressure that unspoken words cause.
What do I want to say here? Many things. So many things, that sometimes even all the words in the world can't express.
Looking up again at the 'Song Playing', it's somehow ironic. Yes, the artiste of the song is 'savage genius', and that somehow relates to me. Lol.
As for 'Inori no Uta', sometimes it feels that way. Even if I can't hope, I still pray. Not for myself, but for others. For my friends, my loved ones, even the ones I hate.
I can't pray for myself anymore. It just seems so...wrong to do so.
No, you don't get it either. The words for any prayer for myself seem hard to come by. They are all wrong. What can I pray for myself?
For safety? From what?
For love? For whom, and for what purpose?
For success? Why?
For peace? God, is that even possible anymore?
I know. For safety from myself. For the love of me. For peace of mind. These are the things I should be praying for. Except that I don't believe in God anymore. Oh, God is still there, I think. I just don't believe anymore. So whether God is there or not doesn't matter.
People keep telling me I'm cynical. Sou desu. The shell is, as usual.
What you see, what you experience, that's the shell you see of me. That's Huimin. That's the awkward girl who still trips over her own feet. That's the cynic, whom you so decry.
There are many of me. 'Huimin' is one out of many identities. Chaos, my masculine side, otherwise known as cynical perverted bastard.
But even then, Chaos isn't really that bad. He cares for people too, he just doesn't show it. He's evil sometimes, but rather than being immoral, he's just amoral. He just doesn't care about morality and ethics. Whether he deliberately acts in contrary to them is another issue altogether. Which he doesn't. He doesn't break rules for the sake of breaking rules. He breaks rules because they're getting in his way. Otherwise he leaves them alone. It's that simple. That doesn't make him good, but he's not fundamentally evil, that's certain.
Then there's Estrea, the kind big sister figure. Teasing, flirting, sometimes sneaky and unscrupulous, but really just a big softie. Her almost genki nature is a bit unsettling sometimes. Estrea is very very two-faced. To those who don't know her well, she's hyper and happy and overdramatic. To those who she's comfortable with, she reveals a darker side, angry and poisonous, a self-consuming darkness. In the end, Estrea is just a facade for the darkness underneath.
Which brings us to Krista. Krista is very similar to Estrea, but more calculated, more refined in a sense. Not really given to the kind of hyper happiness Estrea possesses, but has a more 'princely' air to her. Pseudo-cool, a more feminine version of Chaos, minus the coarseness. I never explained the reasoning of the name 'Krista', have I? Only to Chengwei I think. Ah well.
Krista bears similarity to 'kris', which in malay means 'dagger' or 'knife'. That's who Krista is, sharp, dangerous. And it also represents a cut, loosening the bonds between past and future. Krista is the future, my future, the future I'm seeking to become. Similarly, 'Krista' reminds me of crystal, multifaceted, a prism reflected within when held up to the light. Strong, yet fragile. That's what it means to be Krista. A crystal knife.
I'm not Krista. But I'm working towards it. It's strange. Evolution always is. I'm her, yet not her. Not yet. Not quite yet. Too many factors to take into account.
The night. Is falling. Night is where I'm most in my element. I feel less inhibited in the dark. I wonder if it's possible to get a night job. I would willingly turn myself into a pseudo-vampire by working nights and sleeping in the day.
I hate the light of day. I hated mornings. The night is not frightening to me. The night is less harsh on the eyes. In the night, I cannot see my hands.
I hated my hands. Long fingered, wide-palmed, large, rough hands. I cannot remember why I loathed them so much. I'm pretty sure they did nothing to deserve it. I'm grateful for how useful they are to me, but at the same time, I cannot bear to look at them.
It's a Macbeth thing, I swear. "Out damn spot, out I say!" Classic.
Similarly, I see blood on my hands. Filth and blood and guilt and sin. Again, there really isn't much justification for it.
Call it a fascination with self-flagellation. Some kind of obscure sadistic instinct to torture myself, maybe? I just like to see myself suffer really. Odd reasoning though.
How do I explain myself? Explaining myself. It seems that I have been doing nothing BUT explain myself since the day I lost the ability to have someone else defend me.
I'm just so sick of having to explain myself. So sick of having to label myself this or that. So sick of trying to justify and condemn my actions.
Why the hell do you think I just sit there and remain mute when people ask me? Pure defiance? Perhaps. But I'm just so tired of defending myself. Condemn me, judge me, just don't have me explain myself.
Or I could stand up and do something to stop the accusations. Do something right, and it will stop. But what is right anymore? God. It's comfortable yes, in my own personal hell. I don't want to talk to them, please don't make me talk to them.
Excuse me while I go rot in this shell of mine.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
I miss konks.
Incidentally, I stumbled onto an anime that involves some serious mind-bendy ideas involving time-space warping and other alternate-dimensional thingy. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?
There was also a lot of gender-bending and gender-identity issues involved. ^^ Yes there is yuri. Go Aaeru/Neviril!! *cough* Excuse me.
But aside from the incidentals, I'm absolutely enthralled by the idea of the time-bending trick caused by the Jade/Emerald Remergion that threw Rimone and Dominura into the past. Lol. And by the possibility that either Dominura or Amuria (Neviril's old partner/lover) could have been Aaeru's grandpa. XD
Did I mention that in the world of Simoun, everyone is born female (!!) and when they reach 17, they have to pick a gender at the "spring". Yeah, they actually become guys. O___O
Hence the issue of gender-bending and gender-identity comes in. Strange that all these confusing stuff reminds me of konks. Mainly because we used to have crazy conversations of this sort.
Plus it stretches the definition of yuri. I mean, they all started out being girls lol. Of course, once they become male, I think they count as real guys. So what was a yuri relationship before between two girls, if one chooses to be male and the other remains female, it automatically becomes heterosexual. Follow me yet? XD
Oooh and this isn't even the best part. What if you made the wrong choice at the spring? :P There's no going back after the choice has been made. XD You have to live with it, whether you like it or not. Erie, or Erif as he became later on, found that out. Haha. He wasn't prepared to choose, and the choice was made for him to become male. I think there was some regret involved afterwards. *cough*
Ok enough random Simoun-waving. I'm not paid to advertise the series anyway. XD
Took a peek at my anime pictures collection, and decided that the only "safe" folders to look into are probably the Marimite and Stopani ones. Although there is one picture in the Marimite folder that toes the line of propriety (Sei/Youko naturally).
...um make that two. Possibly three. But the vast majority is safe. Haha.
The Mai Hime folder is like uberly unsafe. I'm pretty sure nudity is not safe. And other compromising positions...hehe. Although I found the KnM parody ones pretty hilarious. XD
KnM folder is rather...ok. If you're fine with two girls being in the same frame, I suppose its rather tame. Nothing too overboard really. I wonder why...
Again, Utena folder is off-limits. Look, if the show itself has incest and homosexuality, imagine what kind of pictures are available. On second thoughts, don't imagine. Lol.
My Hellsing folder is only rated for gore. Lots and lots of blood...well, with a mad vampire like Alucard involved, obviously there's going to be blood. Among other internal organs and fluids... *shrug*
The DN Angel one is safe. Unless you are hyper sensitive and scream "YAOI!!!" whenever two or more of the male characters are in the same frame. Look, they're not doing anything to suggest that. They're just posing for pictures. Lol.
Angel Sanctuary...um...there's yaoi, implied yuri (very very implied, blink and you miss it) and generally gore. Look, Katan got decapitated rather violently by an out-of-control Rosiel. They showed the process. Obviously its violent and bloody. Oh and don't forget the incest too. I still can't get over the brutality of the "Wing Drop" process. Ugh.
Oh, and my Sailor Moon folder. The Haruka/Michiru section is obviously off limits with good reason. The rest of the folder minus that section is pretty small, but otherwise safe. *shrug* Mostly of Saturn/Hotaru, because I have this thing for the Senshi of Death. XD
Have a couple of Trinity Blood pics, mostly of the dark and disturbing type, following the Hellsing and Angel Sanctuary example.
One good Toune pic from Melody of Oblivion. There really is a shortage...
Several from Evangelion of Ayanami Rei, because she's my favorite pilot. Haha. A few of her with Asuka as well...hmm...
Then many other random pretty pictures I gathered up. Heh. When I say pretty, they can mean anything from the usual definition to the darkly psychotic types ala Hellsing-fashion. I have strange ideas of what makes something "pretty".
Considering that I have on occasion called blood "pretty", I guess you can get my drift.
Non-anime pictures are of BoA (duh), and Hyori (konks sent them to me!). The latter is nosebleed-inducing. Konks has this strange idea that sending Hyori pics to me will help me break free of my "odd" obsession with strange anime characters. I wonder...?
I have some of Kitagawa Keiko and a lot more of Komatsu Ayaka. The Keiko pics are safe. The Ayaka ones are not. They're a little on the...loli side? I just can't contemplate the image of a 16 year old (who looks even younger than that) wearing tiny bikinis. All the same, I continue to save them up. -___- I'm weird, I admit.
It probably doesn't help that I actually saw Ayaka's pictorial book on sale in the Bugis branch of Kinokuniya. *eye twitch* To buy or not to buy...it's rather expensive hmm...
And don't ask why I managed to remember the kanji for Ayaka's name. I also remember Sawai Miyuu's, and I also saw her pictorial book on sale. o__o I tried looking for Keiko's one, but I couldn't remember if she did have a pictorial book of her own. I know Ayaka has two, and so does Miyuu. I'm not sure about the rest...
And if you're wondering who "the rest" means, well, the above 3 I mentioned were the actresses portraying the senshi in PGSM. Ehehehe...
Look, I sat through a stupid movie like Tokyo Drift just to watch Keiko. And yes, the movie is stupid. The only saving grace was that I thought the drift races were fun to watch. The plot itself is just moronic. And overused. And cliched. And just downright stupid. Any fanficcer can come up with that. -___-
Gee, I'm weird huh? Eh, whatever.
*has a sudden random urge to say something...*
YOU ARE THE CHUZEN ONE!!!
*cough* Sorry, it just came out. It's just too funny to let go of lol. Not that many lines stick to you like this simply because it is THAT absurd.
Oh and let's not forget "Mass Naked Child Events". *snicker* This one was a mistranslation by a fansub group though, not the actual dialogue (thank god). Still, I think I'll never forget this. Haha.
Ah well. I shall take my leave now. Good day!
]
Incidentally, I stumbled onto an anime that involves some serious mind-bendy ideas involving time-space warping and other alternate-dimensional thingy. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?
There was also a lot of gender-bending and gender-identity issues involved. ^^ Yes there is yuri. Go Aaeru/Neviril!! *cough* Excuse me.
But aside from the incidentals, I'm absolutely enthralled by the idea of the time-bending trick caused by the Jade/Emerald Remergion that threw Rimone and Dominura into the past. Lol. And by the possibility that either Dominura or Amuria (Neviril's old partner/lover) could have been Aaeru's grandpa. XD
Did I mention that in the world of Simoun, everyone is born female (!!) and when they reach 17, they have to pick a gender at the "spring". Yeah, they actually become guys. O___O
Hence the issue of gender-bending and gender-identity comes in. Strange that all these confusing stuff reminds me of konks. Mainly because we used to have crazy conversations of this sort.
Plus it stretches the definition of yuri. I mean, they all started out being girls lol. Of course, once they become male, I think they count as real guys. So what was a yuri relationship before between two girls, if one chooses to be male and the other remains female, it automatically becomes heterosexual. Follow me yet? XD
Oooh and this isn't even the best part. What if you made the wrong choice at the spring? :P There's no going back after the choice has been made. XD You have to live with it, whether you like it or not. Erie, or Erif as he became later on, found that out. Haha. He wasn't prepared to choose, and the choice was made for him to become male. I think there was some regret involved afterwards. *cough*
Ok enough random Simoun-waving. I'm not paid to advertise the series anyway. XD
Took a peek at my anime pictures collection, and decided that the only "safe" folders to look into are probably the Marimite and Stopani ones. Although there is one picture in the Marimite folder that toes the line of propriety (Sei/Youko naturally).
...um make that two. Possibly three. But the vast majority is safe. Haha.
The Mai Hime folder is like uberly unsafe. I'm pretty sure nudity is not safe. And other compromising positions...hehe. Although I found the KnM parody ones pretty hilarious. XD
KnM folder is rather...ok. If you're fine with two girls being in the same frame, I suppose its rather tame. Nothing too overboard really. I wonder why...
Again, Utena folder is off-limits. Look, if the show itself has incest and homosexuality, imagine what kind of pictures are available. On second thoughts, don't imagine. Lol.
My Hellsing folder is only rated for gore. Lots and lots of blood...well, with a mad vampire like Alucard involved, obviously there's going to be blood. Among other internal organs and fluids... *shrug*
The DN Angel one is safe. Unless you are hyper sensitive and scream "YAOI!!!" whenever two or more of the male characters are in the same frame. Look, they're not doing anything to suggest that. They're just posing for pictures. Lol.
Angel Sanctuary...um...there's yaoi, implied yuri (very very implied, blink and you miss it) and generally gore. Look, Katan got decapitated rather violently by an out-of-control Rosiel. They showed the process. Obviously its violent and bloody. Oh and don't forget the incest too. I still can't get over the brutality of the "Wing Drop" process. Ugh.
Oh, and my Sailor Moon folder. The Haruka/Michiru section is obviously off limits with good reason. The rest of the folder minus that section is pretty small, but otherwise safe. *shrug* Mostly of Saturn/Hotaru, because I have this thing for the Senshi of Death. XD
Have a couple of Trinity Blood pics, mostly of the dark and disturbing type, following the Hellsing and Angel Sanctuary example.
One good Toune pic from Melody of Oblivion. There really is a shortage...
Several from Evangelion of Ayanami Rei, because she's my favorite pilot. Haha. A few of her with Asuka as well...hmm...
Then many other random pretty pictures I gathered up. Heh. When I say pretty, they can mean anything from the usual definition to the darkly psychotic types ala Hellsing-fashion. I have strange ideas of what makes something "pretty".
Considering that I have on occasion called blood "pretty", I guess you can get my drift.
Non-anime pictures are of BoA (duh), and Hyori (konks sent them to me!). The latter is nosebleed-inducing. Konks has this strange idea that sending Hyori pics to me will help me break free of my "odd" obsession with strange anime characters. I wonder...?
I have some of Kitagawa Keiko and a lot more of Komatsu Ayaka. The Keiko pics are safe. The Ayaka ones are not. They're a little on the...loli side? I just can't contemplate the image of a 16 year old (who looks even younger than that) wearing tiny bikinis. All the same, I continue to save them up. -___- I'm weird, I admit.
It probably doesn't help that I actually saw Ayaka's pictorial book on sale in the Bugis branch of Kinokuniya. *eye twitch* To buy or not to buy...it's rather expensive hmm...
And don't ask why I managed to remember the kanji for Ayaka's name. I also remember Sawai Miyuu's, and I also saw her pictorial book on sale. o__o I tried looking for Keiko's one, but I couldn't remember if she did have a pictorial book of her own. I know Ayaka has two, and so does Miyuu. I'm not sure about the rest...
And if you're wondering who "the rest" means, well, the above 3 I mentioned were the actresses portraying the senshi in PGSM. Ehehehe...
Look, I sat through a stupid movie like Tokyo Drift just to watch Keiko. And yes, the movie is stupid. The only saving grace was that I thought the drift races were fun to watch. The plot itself is just moronic. And overused. And cliched. And just downright stupid. Any fanficcer can come up with that. -___-
Gee, I'm weird huh? Eh, whatever.
*has a sudden random urge to say something...*
YOU ARE THE CHUZEN ONE!!!
*cough* Sorry, it just came out. It's just too funny to let go of lol. Not that many lines stick to you like this simply because it is THAT absurd.
Oh and let's not forget "Mass Naked Child Events". *snicker* This one was a mistranslation by a fansub group though, not the actual dialogue (thank god). Still, I think I'll never forget this. Haha.
Ah well. I shall take my leave now. Good day!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I am a weed in the rose garden.
I was poison in a potato leaf.
I will live, because it's hard to get rid of me.
I am a horse, I kick.
I was an ill-tempered breed.
I will live and run free.
I am a stray mongrel on the streets.
I was a scorned mixed breed.
I will live in spite of this.
I am an ordinary human being.
I was not the brilliant star they sought high in the sky.
I will live the way I like it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Hardly a poem. Stupid thing.
If there's one thing I want right now, anything in the world, I just want a future.
Laugh. Go ahead. *sits down and stares idly into the distance*
Hopefully you people can recover to read this part.
I want a future that I can believe in.
Believe it or not, that's harder than you think.
Some people think that a future is something you build with your own hands. I don't decry that thought. It's true. We do shape our future with our own hands.
So I bet people are thinking this: "Well then get up and do something about that future damnit!" Vulgarity is optional.
But you see, I can't believe in that future. I can't believe in what I want. I can't believe that there can be anything in that distant--or not so distant--future that I want. I am terrified that I do know what I want, because I'm not sure if I should be wanting it.
Trust me, it's a long and complicated story.
The future I see is very dark. A lot of bloodshed. A lot of tears. A lot of suffering. It's hard to place faith in a future stained by the cancer of humanity. I find it hard to believe that there can be a future.
You see, I am not a great person. I am not very altruistic. I do not see all these horrible scenes of suffering appearing in the papers everyday and think that I have to do something to change the situation. I am very selfish and self-centered.
Why do you think I have a blog anyway? Because I'm narcissistic. Silly.
So, I am not very wonderful or great or revolutionary or whatever. I am just this normal person. Although many people would beg to differ. I fail to see why I have a whole segment of people who have encountered me during some distant past of mine who seem to think that I have a great future to move on to.
For some reason they think I'm some sort of a genius. I'm not, really. I may be somewhat gifted in certain areas, but that doesn't make me a genius. I don't have the single-minded obsession or passion that characterises one, or the drive to succeed either. I am just a very normal 18 year old girl who happens to be pondering the fate of the universe.
I don't even have the spectacularly extended vocabulary that some of the more intellectual of my classmates possess. I do not have some terribly refined or left-field tastes in literature or music.
I like anime (good god, you can't get worse than liking Sailor Moon, can you?), and I like mainstream Jpop. Ask anyone, Ayumi Hamazaki, Utada Hikaru, and BoA are all very very mainstream in Jpop. I don't even go for the ultra-obscure or uber-cool "alternative music" types in the genre. I don't listen to Jrock either---although I do listen to some Gackt and Hyde sometimes.
See, I am normal. I like normal things. I like hugging fluffy teddy bears. I even like my stuffed green lizard named Chomps, which Grace was convinced that it was absolutely ugly, but bought for me for my birthday anyway because I liked it so much.
I am not a wonderful person. I don't know how to evoke great changes to the world order. I don't even know what to replace it with if I do change it. I think that's the major argument for any attempts to make serious reform. But revolutionary people around the world throughout history have gone "screw the rules, we're changing even if we don't know what's going to replace it!" And in some celebrated cases, that has proved to be the right decision.
But I'm not a hero. I'm not some great person. I do not want to be a great person. Great people have bigger problems. I am satisfied with my little problems. At least, I think I am.
I want a future that I can not be ashamed of. As it stands now, all I can see is a blank slate. Some courageous beings might see this as the perfect place to start, but I am not courageous. I have said, on many occasions before, that I am a coward. Hypothetically speaking, if there was an axe murderer standing in front of me and my friend, I would push the friend in front of me and run away.
That's right, I am a coward. I can cast away my pride to live. After all, what is pride if we die? Live, and make a difference, be it to yourself or to others.
I want to live, if only to see what happens. I would be perpetually lost, because uncertainty is less damningly rigid than certainty. Purpose and destiny is all very well and good, and I admire those who have a purpose in their lives, but I rather be lost in the wilderness trying to grope for a reason to be me and not someone else.
That's right, I don't want to be found. I like being lost. I am happy when I am sad, and sad when I am happy, because for me, both happiness and sadness are the same. I am me, whatever that means, and I want to continue being me, trying to find who who "me" is, and trying to find out more beyond "myself".
I don't want to live someone else's life, living someone else's dream, living a purpose I despise, and forgetting what it means to doubt and to learn.
I sometimes like to think, and then to doubt. Doubt opens possibilities, doorways to other possibilities, and we can learn new things. Doubt is uncertain, unsafe, and even terrifying. People don't like doubt. They want certainty.
Truth is, I'm afraid of doubt too. I don't like standing on this floating ice of doubt, drifting across uncharted waters and wondering when the ice beneath my feet will just melt and give way under my feet. Doubt adds fuel to fear.
But then, certainty is boring. It is very admirable. But it is also staid and safe and consumes all your life and attention. You can be happy with certainty. I won't begrude those who find joy in certainty. I would like some certainty in this inconstant life too, but I know that I would be bored to death by it.
Perhaps, if my mind hadn't awakened to possibility, I would have lived a life of certainty. I would be the straight-A student, probably graduating with a double degree with honors at some prestigious university. I would be great, successful, and probably happy with what I was.
But somewhere along the way my life took a turn. Certainty gave way to doubt. I learnt to think and to question. Why am I here? Why are we like this? Why is the world like this? Why am I me? What does being "me" mean? Does there have to be a meaning to "me"? If there is, what do I mean? Does there have to be a meaning? Who am I? What am I? What does it mean to be me?
Many questions. I had never thought to ask them before. But that divergence happened, and here I am, questioning. Doubting. Above all, thinking.
I like thinking, even though sometimes it does hinder action. Thinking is fun. Thinking helps me to understand. Thinking is the only thing keeping me sane.
It's too late to go back to that unthinking certainty anymore. I can't go back even if I wanted to, and now that I have had time to seriously think about it, I don't want to go back either. I would probably have been happier with that sense of purpose I possessed then, that unswerving certainty that I would go through school and life as that brilliant shooting star that aced everything. I would probably have ended up married somehow, and have kids. And then I would grow old and fufilled, and die at the end of my days, unquestioning.
I would have been happy.
But that's a dream. A dream I can't go back to. And a dream I'm pretty sure I don't want, now that I am cast out into this world of uncertainty.
Everything is fresh and new, being uncertain. I live from moment to moment, half in fear, half in wonder, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing in the midst of the wilderness. Trying to be me, yet not knowing who or what "me" represents.
I disappointed a lot of people being like that. Wandering through my life, aimlessly, without purpose. I hear them sigh and shake their heads.
What a waste, they say. She would have been a wonderful student, have had a wonderful future, the world at her feet. She would have been great, they lamented, and now she's just throwing it all away by being lazy and irresponsible.
Yes it's true. I am being lazy and irresponsible. By typing this at all, I am already being terribly lazy and irresponsible. Reality, as it has a habit of doing, intrudes once again into the world of the mind. The world doesn't wait for one single girl to figure out who she is and what she wants from life, it just keeps going.
Life is full of possibilities. I keep drifting like a cloud, bornt aloft by the winds. Aimlessly, wandering, without purpose. People would think I require a good kick in the head to "wake me up".
But they're wrong. I am awake. I know full well that my drifting would get me in trouble. That I'm head-on for a collision course. That I would get hurt, and hurt others because of this stubborn recklessness of mine. But I still drift, I still wander, I still wonder.
Because I am terribly selfish. I don't care for others but myself. I drift because I want to, because I hope that, in drifting, I can find out what it means to be me, and that in drifting along, I can pick out useful information along the way to feed the artistic hunger within myself. I am selfish. I only thought about myself.
Because certainty, for me, is so much scarier than doubt. Certainty means that I will be tied down, would meant that I had to *gasp* bear responsibility. I'm lazy, selfish, and irresponsible. What do you think?
Certainty might make one feel safe, but it fills me with dread. Last night I asked for a hug from my father, and I received it. It was cold, clammy, and distant. It didn't feel safe at all. I felt even less secure in the fact that my father's embrace made me feel even more uneasy. If this is what certainty proved to me, I rather that I had never requested for the hug, forever remained in doubt, and at least could bear the illusion that the hug would have been a comforting one.
Doubt gives possibility. I am a coward too, and certainty is far more dangerous to my wandering mind than anything else.
In this life I have left, I doubt that I would ever get married. I would probably remain celibate unless I get horribly horribly drunk and lose control of my senses. I'd be a wanderer in my own mind, endlessly exploring, but never trying it out in real life, because in the end, I'm nothing but a spineless coward, with nothing to fight for because I didn't dare to specify the thing I wanted to fight for.
Terrible fate, isn't it? And you wonder why I can't believe in a future with me in it.
]
I was poison in a potato leaf.
I will live, because it's hard to get rid of me.
I am a horse, I kick.
I was an ill-tempered breed.
I will live and run free.
I am a stray mongrel on the streets.
I was a scorned mixed breed.
I will live in spite of this.
I am an ordinary human being.
I was not the brilliant star they sought high in the sky.
I will live the way I like it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Hardly a poem. Stupid thing.
If there's one thing I want right now, anything in the world, I just want a future.
Laugh. Go ahead. *sits down and stares idly into the distance*
Hopefully you people can recover to read this part.
I want a future that I can believe in.
Believe it or not, that's harder than you think.
Some people think that a future is something you build with your own hands. I don't decry that thought. It's true. We do shape our future with our own hands.
So I bet people are thinking this: "Well then get up and do something about that future damnit!" Vulgarity is optional.
But you see, I can't believe in that future. I can't believe in what I want. I can't believe that there can be anything in that distant--or not so distant--future that I want. I am terrified that I do know what I want, because I'm not sure if I should be wanting it.
Trust me, it's a long and complicated story.
The future I see is very dark. A lot of bloodshed. A lot of tears. A lot of suffering. It's hard to place faith in a future stained by the cancer of humanity. I find it hard to believe that there can be a future.
You see, I am not a great person. I am not very altruistic. I do not see all these horrible scenes of suffering appearing in the papers everyday and think that I have to do something to change the situation. I am very selfish and self-centered.
Why do you think I have a blog anyway? Because I'm narcissistic. Silly.
So, I am not very wonderful or great or revolutionary or whatever. I am just this normal person. Although many people would beg to differ. I fail to see why I have a whole segment of people who have encountered me during some distant past of mine who seem to think that I have a great future to move on to.
For some reason they think I'm some sort of a genius. I'm not, really. I may be somewhat gifted in certain areas, but that doesn't make me a genius. I don't have the single-minded obsession or passion that characterises one, or the drive to succeed either. I am just a very normal 18 year old girl who happens to be pondering the fate of the universe.
I don't even have the spectacularly extended vocabulary that some of the more intellectual of my classmates possess. I do not have some terribly refined or left-field tastes in literature or music.
I like anime (good god, you can't get worse than liking Sailor Moon, can you?), and I like mainstream Jpop. Ask anyone, Ayumi Hamazaki, Utada Hikaru, and BoA are all very very mainstream in Jpop. I don't even go for the ultra-obscure or uber-cool "alternative music" types in the genre. I don't listen to Jrock either---although I do listen to some Gackt and Hyde sometimes.
See, I am normal. I like normal things. I like hugging fluffy teddy bears. I even like my stuffed green lizard named Chomps, which Grace was convinced that it was absolutely ugly, but bought for me for my birthday anyway because I liked it so much.
I am not a wonderful person. I don't know how to evoke great changes to the world order. I don't even know what to replace it with if I do change it. I think that's the major argument for any attempts to make serious reform. But revolutionary people around the world throughout history have gone "screw the rules, we're changing even if we don't know what's going to replace it!" And in some celebrated cases, that has proved to be the right decision.
But I'm not a hero. I'm not some great person. I do not want to be a great person. Great people have bigger problems. I am satisfied with my little problems. At least, I think I am.
I want a future that I can not be ashamed of. As it stands now, all I can see is a blank slate. Some courageous beings might see this as the perfect place to start, but I am not courageous. I have said, on many occasions before, that I am a coward. Hypothetically speaking, if there was an axe murderer standing in front of me and my friend, I would push the friend in front of me and run away.
That's right, I am a coward. I can cast away my pride to live. After all, what is pride if we die? Live, and make a difference, be it to yourself or to others.
I want to live, if only to see what happens. I would be perpetually lost, because uncertainty is less damningly rigid than certainty. Purpose and destiny is all very well and good, and I admire those who have a purpose in their lives, but I rather be lost in the wilderness trying to grope for a reason to be me and not someone else.
That's right, I don't want to be found. I like being lost. I am happy when I am sad, and sad when I am happy, because for me, both happiness and sadness are the same. I am me, whatever that means, and I want to continue being me, trying to find who who "me" is, and trying to find out more beyond "myself".
I don't want to live someone else's life, living someone else's dream, living a purpose I despise, and forgetting what it means to doubt and to learn.
I sometimes like to think, and then to doubt. Doubt opens possibilities, doorways to other possibilities, and we can learn new things. Doubt is uncertain, unsafe, and even terrifying. People don't like doubt. They want certainty.
Truth is, I'm afraid of doubt too. I don't like standing on this floating ice of doubt, drifting across uncharted waters and wondering when the ice beneath my feet will just melt and give way under my feet. Doubt adds fuel to fear.
But then, certainty is boring. It is very admirable. But it is also staid and safe and consumes all your life and attention. You can be happy with certainty. I won't begrude those who find joy in certainty. I would like some certainty in this inconstant life too, but I know that I would be bored to death by it.
Perhaps, if my mind hadn't awakened to possibility, I would have lived a life of certainty. I would be the straight-A student, probably graduating with a double degree with honors at some prestigious university. I would be great, successful, and probably happy with what I was.
But somewhere along the way my life took a turn. Certainty gave way to doubt. I learnt to think and to question. Why am I here? Why are we like this? Why is the world like this? Why am I me? What does being "me" mean? Does there have to be a meaning to "me"? If there is, what do I mean? Does there have to be a meaning? Who am I? What am I? What does it mean to be me?
Many questions. I had never thought to ask them before. But that divergence happened, and here I am, questioning. Doubting. Above all, thinking.
I like thinking, even though sometimes it does hinder action. Thinking is fun. Thinking helps me to understand. Thinking is the only thing keeping me sane.
It's too late to go back to that unthinking certainty anymore. I can't go back even if I wanted to, and now that I have had time to seriously think about it, I don't want to go back either. I would probably have been happier with that sense of purpose I possessed then, that unswerving certainty that I would go through school and life as that brilliant shooting star that aced everything. I would probably have ended up married somehow, and have kids. And then I would grow old and fufilled, and die at the end of my days, unquestioning.
I would have been happy.
But that's a dream. A dream I can't go back to. And a dream I'm pretty sure I don't want, now that I am cast out into this world of uncertainty.
Everything is fresh and new, being uncertain. I live from moment to moment, half in fear, half in wonder, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing in the midst of the wilderness. Trying to be me, yet not knowing who or what "me" represents.
I disappointed a lot of people being like that. Wandering through my life, aimlessly, without purpose. I hear them sigh and shake their heads.
What a waste, they say. She would have been a wonderful student, have had a wonderful future, the world at her feet. She would have been great, they lamented, and now she's just throwing it all away by being lazy and irresponsible.
Yes it's true. I am being lazy and irresponsible. By typing this at all, I am already being terribly lazy and irresponsible. Reality, as it has a habit of doing, intrudes once again into the world of the mind. The world doesn't wait for one single girl to figure out who she is and what she wants from life, it just keeps going.
Life is full of possibilities. I keep drifting like a cloud, bornt aloft by the winds. Aimlessly, wandering, without purpose. People would think I require a good kick in the head to "wake me up".
But they're wrong. I am awake. I know full well that my drifting would get me in trouble. That I'm head-on for a collision course. That I would get hurt, and hurt others because of this stubborn recklessness of mine. But I still drift, I still wander, I still wonder.
Because I am terribly selfish. I don't care for others but myself. I drift because I want to, because I hope that, in drifting, I can find out what it means to be me, and that in drifting along, I can pick out useful information along the way to feed the artistic hunger within myself. I am selfish. I only thought about myself.
Because certainty, for me, is so much scarier than doubt. Certainty means that I will be tied down, would meant that I had to *gasp* bear responsibility. I'm lazy, selfish, and irresponsible. What do you think?
Certainty might make one feel safe, but it fills me with dread. Last night I asked for a hug from my father, and I received it. It was cold, clammy, and distant. It didn't feel safe at all. I felt even less secure in the fact that my father's embrace made me feel even more uneasy. If this is what certainty proved to me, I rather that I had never requested for the hug, forever remained in doubt, and at least could bear the illusion that the hug would have been a comforting one.
Doubt gives possibility. I am a coward too, and certainty is far more dangerous to my wandering mind than anything else.
In this life I have left, I doubt that I would ever get married. I would probably remain celibate unless I get horribly horribly drunk and lose control of my senses. I'd be a wanderer in my own mind, endlessly exploring, but never trying it out in real life, because in the end, I'm nothing but a spineless coward, with nothing to fight for because I didn't dare to specify the thing I wanted to fight for.
Terrible fate, isn't it? And you wonder why I can't believe in a future with me in it.
Note the change in the quote under the blog title.
Actually I wanted to put Alucard's quote, then decided the other one put on Seras in a fic was so much better.
In case you were wondering, Alucard's quote was
Hell's Gate Arrested, And Shine Heaven Now.
I decided it was just too inappropriate. I was never in Hell before, so no gate to be arrested. Eh, long story there.
And you thought having something like Heaven's Gate Shut is a good idea?
Well I could explain, but I don't want to be accused of being morbid and fatalistic and atheist. Not that I'm actually atheist, but some people have crappy definitions of the meaning of atheism. Ah well, why bother with them?
Che. Now get back to what you were doing.
Yessir!
]
Actually I wanted to put Alucard's quote, then decided the other one put on Seras in a fic was so much better.
In case you were wondering, Alucard's quote was
Hell's Gate Arrested, And Shine Heaven Now.
I decided it was just too inappropriate. I was never in Hell before, so no gate to be arrested. Eh, long story there.
And you thought having something like Heaven's Gate Shut is a good idea?
Well I could explain, but I don't want to be accused of being morbid and fatalistic and atheist. Not that I'm actually atheist, but some people have crappy definitions of the meaning of atheism. Ah well, why bother with them?
Che. Now get back to what you were doing.
Yessir!
Monday, September 25, 2006
I don't remember.
Here I am, tears running down my cheeks.
And I don't remember.
Mommy?
I don't remember telling her how much I loved her.
Mommy...died.
I remember hugging her, the night before I left...she left...
It was precisely 8pm when I stepped out of the ward that night.
I only hugged her.
I thought I would see her again tomorrow.
Then, I woke, tears streaming down my face, at 7.25 the next morning.
I dreamt that Mommy left me.
I heard the phone ring in the hall. My cousin woke to pick it up.
I lay, eyes still shut, face wet with tears.
I heard voices. I was curious.
I crawled out, clutching my pillow, out through the half-open door.
The floor was cold. My cousin was knelt next to the phone.
It was 7.40 on the clock, but I knew that it was 5 minutes ahead.
I don't remember clearly how it happened after that.
Only that shortly afterwards, I was told that mom had died.
I sat at the edge of the bed, shocked, my cousin's arm around me.
And I cried.
Sobbed my heart out, tears running like a waterfall, whatever have you.
I cried like a child that morning, clad in my sleepwear in my cousin's room.
And then I stopped crying after that.
It was all a whirl afterwards. I was in a dress. People were rushing all around me.
Preparing for a funeral. Preparing god-knows-what.
I was a child, so nobody told me anything.
I sat. I stood. I was in a fucking dress.
But I never cried after that morning.
I was numb. I think, part of me couldn't believe that Mommy was gone...for good.
The funeral was very funeral-like. Except that I haven't been to many funerals.
Heck, I don't think I've ever BEEN to a funeral before that.
Cruel then, that the first I had to attend was my own mother's.
I saw it in a coffin. Mother's corpse.
It wasn't her. It couldn't be.
The Mommy I knew would never apply makeup that thickly or that hideously.
I didn't even know how to hate the person who'd made my mom look so...not-her.
I wasn't like a child who'd just lost a parent.
Children who'd just lost their mother shouldn't laugh and play at the funeral.
But I did. Did that make me a bad daughter?
I don't know. I don't know anymore.
I don't remember crying, grieving. Not as much as daddy did after that.
I cried openly only once, on that morning I heard the news.
I don't remember anything. I only remembered moving on.
To an empty house. Cold, dark, and empty.
I never had to open the gate on my own before to come home.
The inside of the house was dark, lifeless.
The lights had to be switched on. Not that it made it any better.
I moved on. Or so I thought.
Plowed along stoically. Watched stupidly as dad cried and grieved and drowned his sorrows in alcohol.
Do you know how disturbing it is to watch a grown man cry while doing the laundry?
Come to think of it, when did I cry during those darker times?
Certainly not in front of anyone else.
I stopped crying for grief's sake. If I cried, it was for theaterical purposes, to suit my own ends.
Acting vulnerable to all those stupid adults certainly got sympathy for me.
And crying, even for selfish reasons in front of an audience, helped in its own little way.
I cried more when I grew into puberty. Damn hormones.
But I never grieved, at least not as openly as my father had had.
I settled for wistful looks into some distance only I could see, the angst and broodiness that just took over my whole self.
I never really grieved for my mother. I grieved for myself.
And now I'm sitting here, trying my damndest to remember.
I never wanted to remember before. It was too painful to remember.
After all, it is most painful, to remember past happiness in present sorrow.
Have I ever seriously told my mother how much I loved her?
I try and I try. But...nothing. I can't remember a scrap.
Random pieces of happiness...but I can't remember telling my mother how much I loved her.
For once, I truly wanted to remember.
Because I don't want to know that in all my years, I had never told my mother how much I loved her.
Happy birthday Mom. You would have been 57 this year, had you lived. You missed your 50th birthday by 4 months, the year you died. I was only able to show you my midterm results a few days before you passed on. As usual, I had been first in class.
I am so sorry Mom. I've been such a useless wreck, a hopeless lump after you died. I know I shouldn't be blaming you now, that I should have been stronger and done you proud the way you would have wanted me too. I've failed you.
And all I want to do now, is just to cry. For myself, for you, I don't know. Only that I'm presently leaking snot and tears onto my keyboard, and its going to be a bitch to clean up later.
I am such a bad child. Such a foolish, immature child.
But for now, just let me be a child for a while longer. Let me hide in my room and cry some more. Let me be your daughter again, that 11-year old you left behind when you died on the 23rd of May, 1999.
I love you. I never said it before. But I really do.
Even if you couldn't possibly hear or see this, I need to say it. I love you mom. I really do.
Will you ever forgive me? For being such a spoiled child.
I love you mom. I'll never forget you.
]
Here I am, tears running down my cheeks.
And I don't remember.
Mommy?
I don't remember telling her how much I loved her.
Mommy...died.
I remember hugging her, the night before I left...she left...
It was precisely 8pm when I stepped out of the ward that night.
I only hugged her.
I thought I would see her again tomorrow.
Then, I woke, tears streaming down my face, at 7.25 the next morning.
I dreamt that Mommy left me.
I heard the phone ring in the hall. My cousin woke to pick it up.
I lay, eyes still shut, face wet with tears.
I heard voices. I was curious.
I crawled out, clutching my pillow, out through the half-open door.
The floor was cold. My cousin was knelt next to the phone.
It was 7.40 on the clock, but I knew that it was 5 minutes ahead.
I don't remember clearly how it happened after that.
Only that shortly afterwards, I was told that mom had died.
I sat at the edge of the bed, shocked, my cousin's arm around me.
And I cried.
Sobbed my heart out, tears running like a waterfall, whatever have you.
I cried like a child that morning, clad in my sleepwear in my cousin's room.
And then I stopped crying after that.
It was all a whirl afterwards. I was in a dress. People were rushing all around me.
Preparing for a funeral. Preparing god-knows-what.
I was a child, so nobody told me anything.
I sat. I stood. I was in a fucking dress.
But I never cried after that morning.
I was numb. I think, part of me couldn't believe that Mommy was gone...for good.
The funeral was very funeral-like. Except that I haven't been to many funerals.
Heck, I don't think I've ever BEEN to a funeral before that.
Cruel then, that the first I had to attend was my own mother's.
I saw it in a coffin. Mother's corpse.
It wasn't her. It couldn't be.
The Mommy I knew would never apply makeup that thickly or that hideously.
I didn't even know how to hate the person who'd made my mom look so...not-her.
I wasn't like a child who'd just lost a parent.
Children who'd just lost their mother shouldn't laugh and play at the funeral.
But I did. Did that make me a bad daughter?
I don't know. I don't know anymore.
I don't remember crying, grieving. Not as much as daddy did after that.
I cried openly only once, on that morning I heard the news.
I don't remember anything. I only remembered moving on.
To an empty house. Cold, dark, and empty.
I never had to open the gate on my own before to come home.
The inside of the house was dark, lifeless.
The lights had to be switched on. Not that it made it any better.
I moved on. Or so I thought.
Plowed along stoically. Watched stupidly as dad cried and grieved and drowned his sorrows in alcohol.
Do you know how disturbing it is to watch a grown man cry while doing the laundry?
Come to think of it, when did I cry during those darker times?
Certainly not in front of anyone else.
I stopped crying for grief's sake. If I cried, it was for theaterical purposes, to suit my own ends.
Acting vulnerable to all those stupid adults certainly got sympathy for me.
And crying, even for selfish reasons in front of an audience, helped in its own little way.
I cried more when I grew into puberty. Damn hormones.
But I never grieved, at least not as openly as my father had had.
I settled for wistful looks into some distance only I could see, the angst and broodiness that just took over my whole self.
I never really grieved for my mother. I grieved for myself.
And now I'm sitting here, trying my damndest to remember.
I never wanted to remember before. It was too painful to remember.
After all, it is most painful, to remember past happiness in present sorrow.
Have I ever seriously told my mother how much I loved her?
I try and I try. But...nothing. I can't remember a scrap.
Random pieces of happiness...but I can't remember telling my mother how much I loved her.
For once, I truly wanted to remember.
Because I don't want to know that in all my years, I had never told my mother how much I loved her.
Happy birthday Mom. You would have been 57 this year, had you lived. You missed your 50th birthday by 4 months, the year you died. I was only able to show you my midterm results a few days before you passed on. As usual, I had been first in class.
I am so sorry Mom. I've been such a useless wreck, a hopeless lump after you died. I know I shouldn't be blaming you now, that I should have been stronger and done you proud the way you would have wanted me too. I've failed you.
And all I want to do now, is just to cry. For myself, for you, I don't know. Only that I'm presently leaking snot and tears onto my keyboard, and its going to be a bitch to clean up later.
I am such a bad child. Such a foolish, immature child.
But for now, just let me be a child for a while longer. Let me hide in my room and cry some more. Let me be your daughter again, that 11-year old you left behind when you died on the 23rd of May, 1999.
I love you. I never said it before. But I really do.
Even if you couldn't possibly hear or see this, I need to say it. I love you mom. I really do.
Will you ever forgive me? For being such a spoiled child.
I love you mom. I'll never forget you.
