like stardust trapped and floating in lava lamp

i stare at this window. it's been 17 minutes.

i like smoke. i like how it twirls and swirls, making random patterns as it disappears. i like how i can manipulate the patterns by moving the cigarette it's emanating from. just like kaleidascopes, only less colorful and a little more sombre. sombre. that's what it is. i sort of expect an accompaniment of slow lazy music maybe played on a clarinet or a saxaphone in low bassy notes. draggy. and maybe a sultry woman in red with red poppies in her hair, singing about loneliness, love lost, and the contentment of life all in one breath. she'll blow me kisses between verses. she sings with her eyes closed. and when she opens them, they're deep brown and clear. and i will asphyxiate on sight. i sit on the toilet bowl, cigarette between my fingers, closet smoker that i am. bathroom smoker. in denial. hiding. keeping secrets. Douglas Adams' compendium opened before me on my lap. unread. incomplete. his british humour blurring. giving way to imagined music and the hypnotic swirls of the cigarette. i forget to read. i forget to cry. i forget the things i want to say to everyone. i forget to take swigs of smoke from the cigarette. i let it burn. i let it dance. i let it fill me with nonexistence and indifference and beautiful random patterns. beautiful random patterns that lie and cheat you of your very own self. you eat it all up. store it all away. exhale a little of your soul each time you spit out smoke. i end up under the shower, unsure if i am crying. tears unsalted by running water. i am hit by a barrage of words. ideas. visions. all of which are slowly draining away along with the water. down the drain. into the sewage. i do not have time to grab pen and paper to write them all down. i have nothing to save them in. all bottles are filled with colored array of shower cream and shampoo. for a moment, i stop to ponder the significance of my toiletry shelf. the tiny bottles of shower cream. the array of odds and ends. rusted disposable razor in pink. vase of purple plastic tulips. old bottles of aquarium pH balancer and fish food. lighter. stray china tea plate with cigarette burns. abused. misused. lost. it's all me. i am naked under the shower with thoughts drowning me and i can't reach out to save myself without losing something. without the effects of the smoke wearing off and leaving me sober again. i will never find out what douglas adams is trying to tell me. not in a very long while anyway. and i'll end up flicking lighter and watching flames and spark pop up before me when i run out of cigarette smoke.

bowlful of guppies and a bottle of mixed herb

little boy who cried wolf, i don't think you're ready to know the truth. it'll rip you apart and eat you alive. it'll leave you with nothing but your eyes and heart.

i've been craving for a good plate of pasta for ages. i've had some but i still crave it. pile on the parmesan and herbs. i need my stomach filled and my head so heavy from eating that all i can do is loll stupidly in front of an empty plate and smoke clove cigarrettes with coffee.

bottled rainbow formulae

green - i thought this blog could use a little change. think of it as a sort of... shopping spree/makeover-to-make-one-feel-better-about-self sort of thing.

red and blue - a box of cigarettes and a bottle of pepsi twist. what do you see besides a watercolor rorschach test?

yellow and orange - i'll stop smiling when you stop chasing stars.

indigo - i fucking LOVE your jeans. and the key ring you let me keep.

purple - aubergine nails make good conversation piece with the right person.

frere jacques, dormez vous?

one should not untie shoelaces or undo presents because you can never put them back exactly the way they used to be.

still, i'm strangely awake and happy despite everything. i sit and listen to music without listening to the lyrics. there is no point in unbuilding some things sometimes. they look better in their plastic shrinkwrap. perfect.


Daily Forecast for March 11, 2005

It's just your nature to wonder. But when you do too much of it, it can easily turn to obsession. Keeping that in mind, could it be time to stop worrying if there was a deeper meaning behind that comment a loved one recently made? You're a natural-born detective, but some clues just aren't worth following. And some folks aren't clever enough to insert an actual 'meaning' into everything they say.

you SEE... even the horoscopes agree with me.

hanging out with someone, you'll end up finding out things you didn't quite expect you'd want to know. whether that's a good thing or not, i'm still not quite sure. i need to be awake to let it all sink in. i think it makes a slight [only slight] difference if the person you've been hanging out with, who tells you that you're best friends is the same person you have a crush on. O.o hmm... did i say that out loud? at least now i do not have to worry about being self conscious around you because you've just said the magic words. i don't know. it's just a little strange right now. but it's cool though, i'd love to be best friends with you. you make me laugh so. i just have one question for you. why me?

i just realised that you have seen me in situations even my best friend of 13 years has not. it'll be our little secret.

the bed beckons. thanks for waking me up at 4 am just to ask if i'm awake. you really DO rock, you know. -_o

time to wake up frere jacques. things are just the way they are supposed to be. do not ask questions.

back in those days....

since the past few hours have been somewhat shitty, let's just focus on the simple and nice things that people tend to overlook in such pessimistic situations.

1. i found a long lost primary school classmate on friendster. joy! [uhm.. no that's not his name. i was just merely expressing my excitement nonverbally.] who am i kidding? this isn't just any primary school classmate. i used to have the biggest crush on this guy for the longest time. doubt he ever even liked me as a friend though. i think he merely tolerated my existence. lol but it's good to have stumbled upon his account on friendster.

2. [trying really hard to think of something nice that has happened but all i can think of is how i'm going to be missing a birthday party tonight because i'll be stuck at work with a bunch of morons and three quarter who'd most probably work the rest of their lives in that godforsaken pieceofshit place called 'office' doing the same damn fucking thing everyday] oh yeah... i get the weekend off... which reminds me that said morons somehow fucked things up with systems and policies and i end up NOT having a long break for chinese new year which is what left me in such a shitty mood for the past few hours of my otherwise placid and mildly exciting day.

moving along...

3. i have pretty much given up trying to figure things out. they get stranger by the day, but hey, somehow, that's how things end up in my life. i accept things as they are because that's how they're meant to be. OMMMM....

at the rate i was taking deep breaths and chanting mental 'om's, i would have floated up and bopped about the ceiling if i didn't exhale. one of those many times where time oozes on like a big fat python that just swallowed a capybara and you are one step away from climbing onto the table and flailing arms about madly while screaming your guts out about how everyone is a moron and is going to die then flip everyone off before walking out of the office and driving home at 160kilometers per hour. or just take lots of deep breaths and mentally chant 'om'.

4. at least he still knows i exist, which i suppose is a rather uncomfortable situation for us.

5. sucky day has given me new inspiration and need to hunt for a new job/ graduate school/ rich single men. most ly the first two though. i need mental stimulation.

6. mused over the fact that i could feel myself lose a few hundred thousand braincells just sitting there staring at the tv screen. also felt that if i had let myself, i would have drooled like a lobotomy patient also.

realised one thing though. when you feel such a strong urge to create something but are not able to because of one thing or another, you end up feeling an urge to destroy things.

jasmin has a proper conversation

more than once.

that's progress right there. they wanted me to improve socially didn't they. silly appraisals. it's all the more stupid when they give you that little disclaimer right before they start off the crap claiming that 'this is all just procedure. i repeat, only a procedure.'

talking to rob is fun. he bitches with the arrogance of a pompous blueblood. which is hilarious, really. i don't think everyone else finds that amusing though. talking to k. is also fun. but that's only because i've shocked him more than once with the things he finds out i do. which really are just typically boring jasmin shit. talking to the girls [well, some of them] is fun too. they tell you some strangest gossip even when you dont' want to know. talking to mikey is hilarious. everything's a joke and after a while i'm not sure what's serious and what's not anymore. talking to h.'s fun too. he tells you things you never thought of and he has the cutest lisp. so you see, i DO socialise. just because i don't do it often doesn't mean i need to be walking around and talking to everyone during work.

now this one dude i don't get. we talk fine when we're alone, but when there are other people around, we just clam up. honest to goodness. we can be at the table for a whole damn hour with a bunch of colleagues and not utter a single word to each other. but when we're hanging out alone, we'd be bantering off like there's no tomorrow. [ok, that's a little bit exaggerated] if that's not fucked up i don't know what that is. what. is. up. with. that.???! what? is it me? is it because i clam up in front of others, so you do too? or was it a mutual thing? or is it just the language thing? rather tempted to ask... albeit nonchalantly over a cigarette one day... which i don't smoke... maybe i'd find out things i need to know. yeah... maybe...
for example, we had supper with three other colleagues and throughout the entire hour, we didn't say a word to each other but oh yeah, we spoke to everyone else. during one of the breaks, we were outside and we had a perfectly normal conversation. and in the car after work, another perfectly normal conversation. what the hell? i'll just conclude this as a 'it's just me' situation for now.

nyquil not included

i should have taken all those times i drop things or knock into things more seriously instead of just laughing it off as i always do. apparently i've been asleep all these while. issue highlighted by the fact that i drove a bunch of colleagues out for supper and succeeded in locking my car with the keys still in the ignition and the engine still running and not realising so until 45 minutes later when we're about to leave and i realised that i do not have my car keys with me. stranger still was that i made sure i manually locked all the doors before getting out. but that's ok. otherwise the night would have been just another boring work night.
i come with a boxful of smiley bandages to cover up all the wounds and scars. everything will be okay.
sometimes all it takes is one phone call to make you realise that you need to get your behind out of the place and into something completely different. this isn't something that you can replace with a newly pierced tongue.
nothing's really as complicated as you want it to be. let's keep it simple and boil everything down to hormones. hormones are fucked up and since we are all made up of a whole load of hormones, we're all fucked up. that's scientific hypothesis for ya.

spin rinse repeat forget

neil buchanan has manicured nails.

i woke up this afternoon to find that i have been climbing ladders again and have fallen asleep hanging on a rung. you looked down and said hello and simply clambered further up the ladder. i keep forgetting what we're climbing towards.

on the thirteenth day of christmas my true love gave to me 13 things off my wish list that i actually want and not a whole gaggle of rubbish i find no use for like dancing maids and birds on trees.

19 minutes to down a burger, boil water and check out mother's 2005 fashion collection.

la politique des collègues

that up there is probably French so bad you're all laughing.
i have been "blessed" by the presence of two rather interesting beings lately. at work. supper's almost always entertaining not because of the fact that we seem to have so much to talk about but because of what they see. this is the land where a girl must have a boyfriend and should be slim. i have been asked if i am happy with life. if i am desperate for a relationship. i used to go to a school where there were lots of lesbians. you're not one are you? and pertaining to my weight gain back when in was 14, when did the disaster happen? to which i said oh honey, no no no, this, is not a disaster. of course i could have done the whole fabulous diva impersonation, but i was driving. amusing people, nonetheless. of all the 11 months i've been around, 'weight' seem to be one of their favourite topic. it usually consists of one or more of them complaining about gaining weight. ironically, this is most often done on the way out for a meal or over a plate of food.
do you blame me for being quiet at work?
on a lighter note, chicken's roasting in the oven and i have to get ready for work. primp and preen, baby. tonight will be a bore, but i'm fine because i have one side of the plastic cup and string telephone and you have the other. holler when you're alive. i <3 you. mmm... cookies...

stupid lazy lung eater

i'm all dressed up with nowhere to go. sometimes one just gets lazy like that. as if dressing up takes up all the energy in you. by the way, my hair is in its worst state. i don't think bad hair days can get any worse.
i made a choice. i chose not to swap workdays with a colleague. she wanted someone to work for her friday night and she would work for me saturday morning. in doing so, i would have had ample time to spend getting ready for dinner and a night out with the girls. and boy. and in doing so, i would also get to pig out on more break fast feast with the colleagues. but no. i chose to work saturday morning just so i could spend twelve hours in the same room as him. that's so stupid.
in other news, i ate deep fried cow's lung yesterday. it tasted suspiciously like burnt foundation applicator. maybe spongebob would taste like that if he got all dried up in the sun.
people at work have been asking the same damn question: who do you dislike most in this department? like i'm going to crack and give out names and morbid details of what i wish to do to certain people. please. however, i would have liked to ask him what sort of gossips have been going around about me. maybe i will. would make a nice conversation piece. i'm so pathetic.

swamp monsters with balloons

guess what i would be running away from. my best friend said i would run from the balloons and the swamp monster would run away from me. i never really realise how much of a balloon phobic i really am until last friday. but i suppose the whole thing was played up due to the fact that there were 13 people in a tiny meeting room made for 5. and there were 9 other people blowing up balloons happily obilivious to the possibility of one popping in such a small space. can you imagine the sound? O.o i spent the next few minutes wincing. and the rest of the morning jumping each time the biggest balloon roll gently over the bunch of candies on the table [the candies had sharp looking wrappers. i'm sorry, but balloons really should be enjoyed from afar.
i begged the person sitting next to me not to blow his up too big. he laughed. then someone else laughed because my balloon was the tiniest. given the opportunity, i wouldn't have blown it up at all. but since it was a seminar and all that.... certain sacrifices had to be made.


sometimes i think, possibly maybe, people move along life's road walking backwards. and because they do not see what's behind them, they have a tendency of running into things.

balloons are pretty from afar

sometimes it's not that i forget. it's just that i can't be arsed. case in point this journal here. i ain't feelin' it, yo. *flashes finger signs for effect*

but anyway, just for kicks...

i got a new fish today. haven't named it yet but i'm picking up bully vibes from it. it picks on the older one. c'mon! stand up for yourself you bug-eyed uh... fish. yeah.. it's sort of difficult to talk about them when they don't have names.

i think i'm starting to have intimacy issues again. -_- no no. i meant in the sense of getting to be better friends with someone of the opposite sex. *sigh* i do NOT even want to go there and psychoanalyse it all over again. THAT was a waste of time.

yesterday, there was a clown. he wore old ronald mcDonald's shoes [oh yeah. i know it from a mile away. you guys got it on discount from an old mcdonald's restaurant didn't you?] and a Mambo shirt with pissed drunk kangaroo, emu and koala passed out under an eucalyptus tree. and emblazoned on the back of his shirt is the australian emblem, Mambo-ed of course. with a drunk emu and kangaroo framing a can of Mambo Bitter instead of the good old australian emblem thingy that usually goes in the middle. pretty decent shirt to be wearing around kids yes? but he was cute. told me i had to pay if i was going to take a picture of him. bad makeup though.

yeah... that's about it. until the next time i run out of other stuff to do online and end up here again, ta.

cakes and tea, sir?

firstly, what i said about all rearing to go in the previous post, that was bullshit. apparently western medication makes you feel like shit. and i spiralled into an awful awful sedated grogginess coupled with the inability to breathe, eat, sleep, think and speak.
but yeah, i'm ALL better now and i've even stopped sounding like a man.
spending the day in bookstores is just not as fulfilling as it used to be. 1. because seeing all the books that i cannot afford to purchase is depressing. 2. they never have the books i really want. 3. i have too many books to catch up with at home and hence i'm left in a frenzied confusion of where to start, what to read, what to buy and how much to spend. maybe i'm just old and boring.

lately i'm often left wondering why i am not able to tell stories like i used to. those quirky rambly ones that never made sense to anyone including me after awhile. one thought that keeps popping up is that my muse, my oh so beautiful remy has died somehow. misplaced, maybe. lost like a little child in a big shopping mall, waiting for the mallpeople to announce his being lost. i'm still waiting to hear his name being whispered. i have pretty smelling lilies waiting, wrapped in green tissue paper, to lay on remy's grave.

poor child. penelope is nothing like you, but she's just as wonderful. well, almost. she hasn't said anything yet, but you can tell that she would. and like you, she's so beautiful.

mummy made me crushed ice with fruits. it tastes lovely. too bad i cannot cuddle up in it and feel all safe like i would if i cuddle up to a dead bear beside a roaring fireplace. i'm saving the peaches for last.

that bitter taste in your mouth, the sweet sweet feeling of freedom

really, freedom? pfft. wake up. it doesn't exist. but let's not get into that this early in the morning. i still have a fully medicated/sedated head to nurse. deep thinking makes me pukey right now.

i spent an entire hour ranting about hedonism in livejournal. most of that hour was spent either retyping typos or spazzing out momentarily but nobody really needed to know that thanks to the backspace key and that certain aloofness of online blogging. you know what depresses me? the self censorship that occurs unconsciously when one is writing. because someone might be reading what you write, you'll never come all out with your deepest darkest secrets. people might shun you, so you hide things. you don't like being ugly afterall.

anyway! i'm all better and all rearing to go. uh... right after i take that shower, that is.

by the way, money will not buy you cool. you're all just in fucking denial.

ha. ha.

so it took me more than a year to figure this thing out. i feel stupid, really. it's simple things like this that i fail to understand. i don't think blog publishing can get any simpler than blogger.com and/or diaryland.com yet i have never got around to figuring out the whole shebang. -_- i shall now comfort myself with the thought that i know how to refurbish real diaries with ribbons and tissue paper and a whole load of pva glue. if that doesn't make me feel smarter, i don't know what will.
ok... i'm just kidding around.
next up: figure out how to link other people's journal and put up userpics.
i suck.
online journal count: most probably 8
online journal actually used: one. ok, three if you include this one which i would most probably forget that i own.
contemplated on whether to tweak journal codes and decided that i have better things to do like... gee... brushing my teeth and going to bed. maybe later when i'm REALLY enthused. then perhaps i'll even put up the new website i've been meaning to create.
i'm feeling sickly and it's been a while since i have anything to say that can beat "i feel like frizzy hair. i'm there but i'm all over". it makes one wonder what i was on back then and what i'm on right now. and frankly, i kinda miss being that melancholic little cynic.

i ask myself if all i really need right now is another weblog/journal.

the past few months have been a rather odd collection of experiences. all of which has led me to question my purpose of life ... and the people around me.
i feel like frizzy hair. i'm there but i'm all over. perhaps it's good that i'm unemployed right now. gives me time to compose myself... rejuvenate and condition so to speak.

perhaps when i'm fully awake and not being distracted by music videos and really strange old movies at 4 am i might produce a constructive journal entry.

how many times do i have to watch this until i get sick of it? they inspire. they motivate. perhaps this is all i really needed.