sweet chocolate avenue.

buy me my double fudge chocolate ice-cream, or i shall stick my cute round butt here on the floor and cry myself loud and silly.

okay, i am not that childish and unreasonable, but i am certainly a far cry from being the perfect daughter.

it is no surprise that my parents had truckloads of fun while i was away for three years. they had numerous honeymoons to the other end of earth, and the house was easy on maintenance (pet-free, dust-free, mess-free, daughter-free etc). now that i am back, they are forced to shove the responsibility of being parents down their throats once again. i do not act my age, i am not assuring and therefore, i worry them excessively all the time. sulk, but i seriously do hope that someday soon (and i mean big-time soon), i will be able to set my parents' minds at ease and no longer contribute to their whiting hair and wrinkles. first step: stop being a procrastinating stubborn freakhead.

alright, i confess that i am still feeling slightly bad for being impatient with my mum last night. it is not an easy feat to listen to repetitve advices (some call it nags) and still keep a straight face, but i could have hung in there, turned down my mum's volume in my imaginary world and simply not react. whatever it is, it is over and though i would love to say a big fat sorry, i am just a staunch pridester with my parents. therefore, i shall just take it easy and make a resolution: be more patient with my parents. have i been saying this since i could speak?

well, probably so.

vacuum cleaners.

many months back, my cellular was pick-pocketed in under two seconds in a neighbouring country. when others heard of my loss, they laughed it off before giving me two rightful drops of empathy. simply because it is such a common occurence in that other land that it is to my own amusement that that pick-pocketer did not pack me along with the cellular.

and now, right where i live, one of the safest places in our heavy-weighted world, we have well-planned syndicates which smuggle sequin-coated dogs away in the darkness of nights and money-grubbing actors who walk into offices uninvited and conveniently suction items away.

honestly, since when did human hands become portable vacuum cleaners?

animal farm.

an old tale you may think, but once again, a bird has fallen into yours truly's balcony. broken wings, and fairy-dusted eyes, one would almost think he was God-sent, a fallen angel, until he opened his miniature godzilla beak and tried to scare you. not once, but twice.

it was hilarious considering our prominent size differential, and sorely rude, i must highlight, because i was seriously just bird-chatting a few words of concern with him. i politely advised him that he should up the volume of his chirps so that his family and friends may hear his sos calls and come bring him home.

perhaps he did not understand english, or maybe, he just found me naggy. i felt unwelcomed, and walked through that door back into the room, respecting the privacy he wanted. ironical turn, wasn't he the intruder?

anyway, mum and dad built him a home that night. he was not as lucky as the green glamorous bird who probably belonged to the model runway in the bird world. while miss.green who dropped by a few years back had a sweet pink hotel, his home was a shoebox inn. and evidently, i did not think he enjoyed the dinner my parents provided. i now know a little more about him, he did not like the taste of guinea pig's food.

as the sky lighted the next morning with shiny bulbs, all that was left was a lonely shoebox. i did not get to say goodbye and was feeling quite remorseful for probably having come across as unfriendly to him. it is funny how i now walk by birds and wonder if he is one of them, and if he remembers me. i hope he is okay now, because the last i heard, my mum said he hopped off the balcony. whether he just dived head down onto the cemented ground below or glided into the blue skies above, my mum was not certain. i would choose to think it's the latter.

animal farm, yes that's the closet identity of my humble home. i've hosted two birds so far, along with mika, the smarty pants pup dressed in a black rabbit's coat.

oh, before i go, news freshly hot from the oven: the newest visitor to my home is a bee. i am not going to be friendly though. visiting my home more than dozen times a day is harassment. this may jolly well track back to another animal story during my short stay at a local university's hostel. it may sound made up and conjured by hallucinations, but it is true. a green flying insect built a nest in my stereo set (?!), but i shall digress.

i need to digest all these, and convince myself that my life is afterall hmmm, normal.

fat fat love.

i have a thing for fat cats.

mr.jinx.
garfield.
deliciously sexy round darlings.

rocking world of yours.

i wouldn't say i was looking forward to join the working adults club. afterall, one can see it optimistically as the start of financial freedom, or depressingly as the end. but you could say that i was pretty thrilled, cause it is finally not going to be another one of those senseless school projects which eventually find their seat in the trash bin. being the lucky caterpillar i've always been, i was groomed into a burning bright butterfly, my first employment drove me wild and intoxicated me with greed for job satisfaction. i left feeling full, having slightly tasted what the oxford dictionary calls potential. as a matter of fact, we are rubberbands, we simply have to allow that stretch.

that cold, cold battlefield may swirl your thoughts, shrink your faith, and drown your voice, but life is what we make out of it, so yea, hang in there, be brave, walk through that muddy filthy swamp if we have to. weave and watch those dreams come true. it may really, just happen.

by the way, i am still floating on a raft, but i know i will soon be roaming the aqua blue seas of the big giant world in this little boat i have built with this pair of small bare hands, and his.

and to all whom believed and still believe in me, thank you.

love me if you dare.

the moon shyed away that night,
hear my broken heart run hard and fast.
its feet were to burn that aching chill,
yet you stranger turned up,
shining that orange torch on me.

you are whipped out of sugar and angel dust,
the blanket that keeps the cold away,
yet blinded, i did not see.
love me if you dare, i could never say,
i ran away.

september 2003

tainted canvas.

the little girl held the little crayolas in her small hands and doodled all over her beautiful life.

attack of the queen bee.

stung, i have absolutely nothing but scorn for thiefs who steal words.

sweet ambush of 35.

melty kisses make me happy.

fly me to the moon.

i am an insane chick. i want to tie together a hundred colored balloons and let them take me wherever they want to. i want to be sheeplike, obedient for once. i may land by that delicious lolly-filled beach; i might lose my way like a spider in your four-walled room; my cheeks may get roaring drunk on tears; i might blind your world with shimmery smiles; i may feel forsaken; you may awake smiling, finding me in your arms. uncertainties make our life so interestingly whimsical, so what if they rive your guts apart? i am on your side.

do not take it away.

i love my shiny shimmery world.

weeping map.

the map weeped, yearning for the little girl playing in the sun.

the little girl gave in to that soft murmur, and locked herself in the lightless vault, weeping silently with the map in her small hands. she almost did not make it back.

killer fusspot.

occupational hazard, i am an irritating killer fusspot.

the alarm rang.

time departs before it even lives, but dreams keep me breathing in this smothering tussle with time. this pack of lazy bones shall awake from rest.

stark naked.

i'm the naked chef of my little kingdom. stark naked, cos my kitchenette pride has been stripped to naught.

the spinach balls that i had spinned up on the baking tray two nights back somewhat unraveled themselves to be kang kong balls. no wonder there was an oddity in taste i could not quite explain.

i dislike greens. they are all cloned by nature to look identical, to confuse the already much muddled world.

the verdict.

a happy prince.

serious trespassing.

i am about to intrude into the kitchen's sacred grounds with my retarded culinary skills.

who mistakes ginger for a clove of garlic?
me.
who pieces minced beef together without egg/whatever that gets the crumbs to stick?
me.
who deep-fries without giving the oil even a few moments to heat up?
me.

i shan't go on any further.

oh, by the way, you reckon warm fuzzily baked garlic chicken, coupled with parmesan spinach balls and bacon sausages with a coat of brown sugar sound good?

i'm screwed.

goodbye cushioned clouds.

i've fallen. a force translated me harshly back in time. scenes of my life were played, and replayed in my denying disengaging mind. reality had never come this close.

while majority of the world burn in toil, i stood still and let the waves of time take me forward. arrogance filled me inside out, i believed that my talent and intelligence will get me anywhere that i wanted to be. hard work was sheer nonsense, it was what others needed to get by life, not me. total haughtiness.

thinking back, i feel small, almost coming close to being invisible. i had been easy on myself. i had never pushed myself to be who i could be. i just lived each day as it came, or maybe, i did not even live it. i just allowed time to pass, on its own. time and i were almost like two separate entities, with no connections.

i was lucky, i was showered with unexplained blessings. God has been so patient. despite it all, He led me to where i am, and made me who i am today. for this, i give thanks.

i was thrown off the cushioned clouds earlier this afternoon, a conversation jerked me back to actualities and i'm so grateful because i'm finally going to walk my life, every single instant of it. at long last, i'm going to start living. for me, life is honestly, truly, just beginning.

i have never been this fortunate.

pricked by the red pin.

have i ever whispered in your ears, and let you into my little sweet past, where i was drawn to pain?

it numbs, and tears me away, from what others call happiness.

literature in depth.

Closer caught me unaware, what beautiful literature. i studied it, and it choked me, killing my thoughts. it is addictive, it draws you in, wishing to find answers to countless questions that made you doubt the lovers who reside in this living world.

emotions seem most beautiful when they hurt. they seem so right, the misery, and darkness. that unspoken mystery behind pain is always penned in melancholiac colors, blues which tempt you to take a step further. sink in if you could, it tells you.

lies and lust occupied the scripts, love was the absent cast, what a world they lived in. was that the peculiar world i could never quite fit in? probably.

i'm in my own world now, so beautiful literature no longer matters, i would just like to hold on to this beautiful life, which i now call ours.