Tuesday, October 30, 2012

I have mini existential crises everyday. Sometimes, big ones.

Truth is I just wanna get away from everything and go live in the woods or in a cave and feed on tree barks and berries, until I die.

Monday, October 08, 2012

I have imaginary conversations with my friends in my head that will never happen in real life. It's just too hard to speak what's really on your mind sometimes.

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

I think the biggest hindrance to me getting professional help is finding out that there's nothing wrong with me after all and I'm just a failure of a human being.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Yesterday night was another night that ended with tears. Sometimes, you just don't know how to continue living. Sometimes, you just don't know whether you're worth it. Sometimes, you just don't know what you're doing. But after that, you sleep, wake up the next day and go through stuff all over again.

P/S: artjustis.tumblr.com Take a look and show me some love T_T

Thursday, August 02, 2012

A teensy little request

Ok I know nobody comes here anymore ahem, but if by any chance anyone does, would you be so kind as to visit my art blog! Thank you. That is all.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Quote Love

The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.

- Terry Pratchett, Diggers

Awesome, beautiful manifestos from Striking Truths.

I came upon the quote at the very top at Quote Book, one of my favourite sites.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

I live vicariously through cool people.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Ok this will be a rare gushing post...

I feel lucky to have him, and I miss him more and more each day *shy* hahaha

Friday, June 08, 2012

I did the Jung Typology Test yesterday, and the result I got was INFP. I gotta admit, I was slightly bummed that it wasn't INFJ, the rarest one. But, why? I guess it boils down to our innate desire to be special, to be unique.

But come to think of it, being that rare... they're probably one of the loneliest people in the world. I just wanna hug them all, give them encouraging and knowing weary smiles, and tell them, "I feel you. I'm here for you."

All these, courtesy of Jenny Yu. The internet has led to such amazing discoveries.

Listening to sad songs don't make me sad, I make me sad. Or perhaps more accurately, melancholic.

Currently wide awake at 2.30 in the morning, I'll go to bed, lie down and let my thoughts wander till I finally fall asleep. Tomorrow, I'll wake up and go meet some friends and I'll laugh, smile, talk... and come back, pretty much the same person with probably the same thoughts.

Where do all the lost souls go? What do all the lost souls do?

Anything we do is only a distraction? To distract us from everything else. To distract us from the fact that what you're doing really doesn't matter. We keep ourselves busy, to prevent ourselves from realising this.

For those who think that you do not belong in this world, you are not alone.

Friday, March 30, 2012

I don't know how to feel about the fact that after all these years, I still can feel anger.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I practically couldn't believe my eyes when I saw "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" lying there on the display table. Having read so many beautiful quotes extracted from it in tumblr posts, it felt like the perfect book for me. It seemed to me as if every line in the book was pretty much quotable.

I just had to grab it.

Then, my eyes widened too when I saw "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera nearby, on the same table. Fuck! These two books have been in my to-read list for quite some time now. The reaction I could muster to see them lying close by on one table was like... "Whoa." Cue grabby hands again.

I had came with the intention to purchase a particular book, cos I had a newspaper voucher with 25% discount for it. But when I realised that there was only the hardcover version of it in store, the price served as a discouragement to buy; cue dampening of mood.

So I was holding the book, still contemplating whether to buy it or not... while browsing through the shelves. Ruefully, I was faced with the reality once more that damn, books really aren't cheap here. Plus, it's kinda hard to justify buying a pretty thin one for a price higher than the average sized novel's. Yes, I judge a book also by its thickness wtf. The math simply is fewer pages = less material = lower price wtf. It's not really fair to thin books that are actually really good reads I admit, but one does not simply (Boromir meme, anyone? No?) ignore simple maths entrenched by the teachings of Asian parents wtf.

I came pretty close to walking out empty handed when finally, FINALLY I came across those two. In the end, I walked out with five books heh.

Money could buy happiness after all, if spent on the right things. It felt great to hug the paper bag containing my five new nicely wrapped books. Ah, the joy of new reads.

I guess what I'm trying to say after everything above is - deep down, I'm just a socially awkward, contemplative bookworm after all eh.

Reading and me, have had quite a relationship. I'm not really one to keep in touch, but when I have the time and initiative, I find myself falling in love all over again. It is a love that I would never want to part with.

Previously, I was reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude"and man, did it seem like one needed precisely one hundred years of solitude to finish it. It was not that it was badly written, in fact when one started to get into it, the beauty of the prose and meticulousness in which the characters were developed and described were hard to go unnoticed. But oh God, the names first of all were so confusing cos everyone pretty much had the same few names wtf, generations on. If it weren't for the family tree drawn on one of the pages in front, it would have been so easy to get frustrated and chuck the book aside.

Despite all the name confusion, and quite frankly disgust at the incestuous vein pulsing through the family... and wonderment as to how long it'll finally take me to finish the book, once I got through to the end, it was all fucking worth it. GGM managed to tie it all up so magnificently, it was just Wow. The last sentence just reverberated through the whole story, the whole family tree, the whole reading experience, and you realised there was no title more apt than the one craftily chosen.

That's just it. Reading can be such a marvelous experience... how can one not fall in love with it?

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Late night musings

I don't know what to tell you, man. We live in a stupid, incredibly fucked up world with immensely stupid people. I know that there are truly decent, kind human beings out there, but that's just so hard to believe when day by day you look around and see or read about all the bigotry, the greed, the idiocy, the injustice, the douchebaggery etc that goes on around the world.

Seriously, what are we? Why the fuck are we being such a cancer? Destroying everything in its path, ruthlessly and blindly disruptive, power crazy, prejudicial, discriminatory.

It's even harder when you witness such bigotry in your own home, such discrimination in your own family members' eyes. Like, why should homosexuality bother anyone at all? Why does it concern you who others are attracted to and have sex with? It's not as if they're purposely and actively disrupting your lives or anything? Are they not human beings, like you and me? Why are you so intent on viewing them as lesser beings? As "abnormal"? Stating that the world has turned upside down, when I'm willing to bet that homosexuality has existed as long as there were life on Earth.

Why can't people understand that people do not simply CHOOSE to be homosexuals, it's who they are. Seriously, if they had a choice, you think they'd have chosen a life laced with prejudice and unfair judgments? I don't know why some people can be highly educated, yet capable of such bigotry at the same time.

I feel so bad for those who were bullied or unfairly treated just because of who they were. This, is the world we live in. So unforgiving and non accepting. Sad, but true.

Think about it, if you found out that your child was gay, would you love him/her less? If you would, you truly do not deserve to be a parent. You shouldn't have brought your child into the world in the first place, if you yourself were not capable of love.

Day in day out, you see these people, acting out of greed - for money, for power. It happens all the time, critters screwing their own countrymen, letting the people suffer in poverty while they themselves drown in luxury. I don't know how they can do it, the act of knowingly and continuously screwing everyone else over, for their own monetary benefit. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM?

There's just so much injustice that goes on in this world, it fucking hurts. The only solution seems to be to nuke out the entire human race, cos as long as there are humans around, unfortunately there will also be stupidity and greed. Disillusionment? More like accepting reality.

Don't you think that living just for money is the saddest thing ever? That is, you're just obsessed with monetizing EVERYTHING. Every possible thing. To accumulate and grow your fucking wealth. Your wealth, that you will eventually have to part with when you're six feet under. I get that you were poor when you were young, but now that you're not, can't you let the past go? Is there no other things that you'd wanna achieve in life?

Friday, February 24, 2012

I'm beginning to think that happiness is just an illusion. It doesn't exist, and those who think they're happy are either delusional or have their emotions all mixed up.

It was concocted to serve as an unattainable goal so that people would be clamouring or running their whole lives towards the imaginary destination.

The feeling being mistaken for happiness would most probably be liberation. If you can't be happy, you might as well be free.

Freedom is as good as it gets.

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." - Albert Camus

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


I've just watched Julie & Julia, and true enough, blogging is probably one of the most narcissistic endeavour one could partake in.

But that's not what I wanted to get into. I just wanted to sorta prepare you for yet another self-absorbed post.

Let's begin. Why do I seem to have the oldest soul ever? I always feel like I'm too old for shit, I'm jaded as fuck, I have practically no 'young person drive' (whatever that's supposed to mean) in me.

And I now basically seek comfort over everything else. For example, I'm heading to Oz for my graduation ceremony next month, and I was tempted to book a hotel to stay in. A hotel. That's such a ridiculous idea because it'd be so freaking expensive. Something like AUD 2+ k for 6 nights. Imagine that! One could travel to India for 2 weeks with that money alone wtf. So no, no hotel... just a possibly cramped hostel with noisy customers and faulty electronics. Even that wouldn't be that cheap either. Given that, why would anyone want to travel to Oz, I would never know. It's expensive, it's boring, it's culturally blah. But I digress.

But oh... Imagine what it would be like if we got to stay in a hotel. Clean sheets (as far as the eyes can see anyway), clean bathroom and toilet, spacious room, comfortable environment... just, ahhhhhh... and then I start lamenting how long ago was it that I stayed in a hotel wtf. Just like an old person. Y'know? All these lamenting and reminiscing, makes me feel so goddamn old, like I've lived a hundred years and my best years have gone by. Which is so unfucking true.

I'm at an age very suitable for roughing it out, but all I wanna do is sleep in comfort at night, cos goddamnit a good night's sleep is so fucking important to not feeling like crap the next day. This kinda poses a dilemma... I'm all for minimalism and decluttering one's life and spending less, but this kinda entails one to rough it out. To be clear, I'm talking about minimalism in the sense of being able to fit all your belongings in a backpack and to just take off and pursue a nomadic lifestyle anytime. It's about keeping it to the absolute basics. And quite possibly having to relieve oneself in the bushes once in awhile wtf.

Yet, being an advocate of comfort goes against this notion of living off one's backpack. Living in hostels, couch surfing, being constantly on guard... plus comfort requires stuff. Paying for services and buying stuff etc. Fluffy stuff, hard stuff, whichever you prefer. But once again, being against excessive consumerism leaves me in a quandary. Ain't life just a bunch of endless contradictions.

To sum it up, I'm all for comfort but I'm also all for minimalism and against excessive consumerism. These do not exactly go together.

One could always argue that you can be comfortable while being a minimalist. Sure, it's not impossible. But I suppose you'd have to tweak a little your perception of what comfort is. Like, you'd have to accept peeing or taking a dump in the bushes as being perfectly comfortable. OK, maybe not to that extent. But what I'm trying to say is you'd just have to let go of a lot of things. A lot of little things that you take for granted in your daily life. And I suppose that's what it's all about, right? Learning how to let go. One of the hardest things to do, just take me for instance, you'd miss the comfort of hotels sometimes.

And, I guess one could also argue that nuns and monks live with basics while not having to compromise on comfort. Again, they've learnt to let go of material and worldly desires, thus their idea of comfort would probably differ from yours.

What the heck, I just wanted to talk about how I have the oldest soul ever, how did I end up talking about minimalism and all sorts of stuff?

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

I've gotta admit, I'm in a pretty bad slump right now. It sorta started with the deterioration of my health a la dizziness and headaches, which kinda stopped me from exercising and I guess everything else just derailed from there. Apparently the wind/poison from before wasn't cleared from my body, causing all the discomfort. And after drinking the Chinese doctor's medicine and herbal drinks, I think there're still some inside, just taunting me like some merciless jackass. Just some moments ago, I was having a headache and had to rely on Panadol once again for the pain to subside.

Sigh. What the fuck. It's true when you don't have your health, you ain't got shit. I would probably have to live with this condition for fuck-knows-how-long, meaning I'd probably be the face of the demotivated for fuck-knows-how-long. I know I should start exercising again, I know I should do something to get myself out of this rut, I know that only I can help myself. You see I know all these, but goddamn it's so fucking hard to get yourself to do anything when you constantly feel like a piece of shit!

One thought has been consistently popping up everyday during this period of non-living. "When can I die?" Actually it's in Cantonese... "Gei si sei dak ar?" Pathetic, I know. It's not even like I'm devising ways to hurt myself, it's more like I'm just hoping that I'll drop dead any second wtf. I've lost the will to live and I'm not even motivated enough to end my own life wtfff. I didn't realise how ridiculous that sounded till I actually typed it out wtf.

I sent a CNY card to my friend and in it I wrote these exact words, "Without hope, dreams or beliefs, life wouldn't be worth living! So don't stop dreaming!" I've no idea what's the dream now. How do you rediscover your dreams? Your hopes? That burning passion in your heart? No matter how stupid or dumb they may have been?

Sigh. It's OK. I'm pretty sure that this too will pass. Someday.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Have you ever wondered how the lives of the people around you would've been different if you never existed?

Wouldn't it be awesome if we actually had the option of seeing what would that be like? You know, like if we had a vivid dream about it or something with the aid of some magical cosmic power.

Personally, I don't think my family's or friends' lives would've been much affected by my non-existence. Seriously, prove me wrong, universe wtf.

Some days I just wonder what it would be like to be dead. Am not exactly suicidal, but just the casual wonderment of hmm what if I disappeared, Amelia Earhart style?

Ok I realise that anyone would be sick of reading all these fucking words without any photos at all wtf... fine I'll post photos from India, when I'm not feeling like a piece of shit wtf. All in due time...

Thursday, January 19, 2012

India '11

I realised I haven’t even written about my two-week trip to India last December...

Throughout the trip, my mum repeated that India could be described in just three words: messy, noisy and dirty. Truth is, India is all those, and so much more. One could easily overlook the notable air pollution during the first few days of arrival, as frankly I was pretty fascinated just to be there. Plus, I reasoned that the dusty air gave the place a beautiful dusky quality, when even sunsets were exceptionally powdery and pastel.

I’m sure anyone who’ve been to or ever contemplated heading to India has heard the horror stories about being conned, being pestered by relentless vendors and beggars, and/or contracting diarrhoea. What can I say, those are all part of the experience. On my first day itself in front of India Gate, I had my first quintessential India experience. Ignoring my (much too) polite refusals to get a henna tattoo, this merciless woman grabbed my hand and proceeded to draw one anyway. Judging by her strength and steely determination, I’m guessing she does this manoeuvre a lot and has the means to buy lots of chapati. Sure enough I was left in a bit of a shock after that encounter but hey, it was only the first day and no excessively grabby Indian lady was going to dampen my spirits!

The thing is, especially in the touristy areas, after some time you realise you can never be sure whether the locals are really being friendly or are just trying to get you to buy something at a jacked-up price. At the same time you also realise that that’s just how they do business, how they earn the money to support their family, and you really shouldn’t take it personally. But man, patience does have its limits. Mine was seriously tested at Fatehpur Sikri, where persistent locals were swarming around foreigners like flies, trying to offer guide services or sell some sort of thingamajig that I couldn’t care for anymore. This was during the second half of the trip, so honestly my initial fascination had waned and the culminated frustration after over one week of aggressive peddling left me a very, very grumpy person. I am not proud of this at all, but I even grudgingly refused at first when my brother came to me for Rs2 (~ RM 0.13) to give to a blind beggar up the stairs leading to Jama Masjid.

That is not to say that touring India would leave you totally heartless and jaded. We did meet many genuinely friendly and curious people along the trip. Some requested to have their photos taken with us, many enquired about our country of origin, and many offered amiable smiles and greetings. One thing to note is that NO ONE got it right when they tried to guess where we came from. The closest we got was Singapore. We sure had a lot of Koreas, Japans, Chinas and Thailands. Which only serves to say that Malaysians travelling to India are few and far between. Malaysians, where you at? Or more specifically, Malaysian Chinese, where you at??

I’ve got to admit that we did not see many Asian tourists the whole trip, barring a few Chinese tour groups. Most of the foreigners there were Caucasian, because damn do they love India. It’s most probably due to the exotic factor and the fact that India is such a different place from their home, be it Europe, America, Australia or New Zealand. And isn’t that the point of touring after all? To head somewhere different and to experience new things and immerse yourself in different cultures?

One would think that the highlight of the trip would have been the Taj Mahal. Ah the Taj… one of the wonders of the world, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and so horrifically overcrowded at the same time. Granted, we were there on a Sunday evening, but the droves of visitors and lack of maintenance of the reflective side pools left us a little, if not sorely, disappointed. My mum agreed that when she visited 8 years earlier it was still an impressive sight, and now it seemed kind of lacklustre. All the forts, temples, and mausoleums we visited the week before might also have had something to do with our disappointment. After some point in time, they do tend to look the same. But I would still highly recommend a trip to Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, the fort that all three of us favoured for most beautiful among those we visited. So if anyone wants to be awed by the Taj, it’s probably better that you visit it earlier in your trip, and on a weekday.

So that begs the question, what was the highlight of our trip? Two words: camel safari. No, it’s not actually a safari where you sit in a jeep and ogle at humpy camels along the way. Oh no. You ride on camels, to somewhere in the desert and spend the night under the stars. You also have the option of spending more than one night, or not spending the night at all. That’s a real oversimplified explanation there, but you get the gist.

I could practically hear the giddy excitement in my brother’s voice as the camels that we climbed onto stood up. That was the happiest I’ve seen my brother so far in the trip. To be honest, for the first few minutes I was more than a little terrified of falling down. I have never ridden any animals before, so it surely was interesting to have given my first time to a camel *ahem*. Camel rides are bumpy, very bumpy, but you’ll get used to it (as if you have a choice).

After an hour plus of camel riding, we finally arrived at our site for the night in the Thar Desert. Other than our guides, there were just six of us. It’s hard to describe how being in the desert felt like. Being isolated like that, you just feel as if you were transported to another timeline. Standing atop a sand dune, it was as though I could hear sounds from a thousand miles away, sounds that arrived unobstructed and unfiltered. The desert felt like a place of ancient ruins and mystic charm, a world of difference from the hustle and bustle in the streets of India.

The moon shone so bright that night, there was no need for any artificial lighting at all. As we formed a circle around the fire during dinnertime, Mr Desert of Sahara Travels regaled us with his life story, a heart-warming tale of success and contentment. We chatted on after Mr Desert left, got to know each other a little more and exchanged travel tales. That night I experienced another first, as that was my first time sleeping under the night sky. It was oh-so-cold, but still oh-so-amazing.

For that experience alone, the trip was probably worth it. Yet the trip was made up of so many interesting bits and pieces. It’d be no mean feat to encompass every detail in one writing. If you’re getting tired of the typical shopping and eating vacations, why not try India? India is truly a place that you should experience yourself, if not just to be shamelessly asked for tips at the toilet for just opening the door! (True story)

Monday, January 16, 2012

Isn't it funny how...

when you're in an unfamiliar place, you have all these fresh thoughts in your head, ideas, aspirations, and new hopes. Roads open up and there are more possibilities than ever. In short, the world seems like your oyster.

But when you get back, despite all the life altering experiences you've been through, no matter how much your mindset have actually changed, when you return to familiar surroundings and hang out with old friends, you regress back to your old self anyway?

It's just too easy to slip back into old habits and old perspectives. The comfort zone's siren song might just be too hard to resist. No wonder people ask, "can people really change?". Is change only possible when you uproot yourself to another place, establish different ties and literally start a new life?

Perhaps change is only possible in a new environment, where there are no elements to lure you back into your old ways. The contrary is possibly true, but that would surely require you to claw your way out of your rut, with rivulets of perspiration streaming down your pasty half-dead face.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Fuck this shit there's just this simmering frustration inside of me that I can't seem to get rid of, even though I already sweated it out with cardio just now.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

I'm starting to sound like a teenager and I don't like it!

Calm down, deep breaths, stand your ground.

Shit this might be PMS kicking in. The fuck? So fast?

Sonofabitch! I'm 21 for fuck's sake, turning 22 this year, and I still feel like I'm being treated as a kid around here. I know for every parent their children will always be kids to them wtf, but DAYMNNN at some point you've GOT TO loosen your grip y'all!
Yeah, it's about time I changed the layout a bit.

After years of boycotting anything PINK, especially bright pink, I've gotta admit that I actually like colours and am not all black and dark. The refusal to buy or associate myself with anything pink stemmed from the feeling of being brainwashed into liking that colour. It was like my mom's favourite colour, not mine. She was the one who bought me pink clothes, cos duh a girl surely likes pink right. So now, after years of that subtle, unconscious brainwashing, I'm like "eww pink, DISGUSTING."

Despite that revulsion, I find myself actually drawn to pastel colours. Even pastel pink. It's bright, tacky pink that I would not wear / touch with a ten foot pole. What is it about pastel colours that makes a girl go all fluttery inside wtf? I guess there is still a girly girl inside me wtf.

Speaking about brainwashing, I've mentioned over here before how my dad's shoving his passion in everyone's faces have left me practically repulsed at the idea of pursuing it. This is something that I've learnt about myself over the years. If there's anything that I know about myself, it's that the more you ask me to do something, the more I'm inclined NOT to do it wtf. (That being said, reverse psychology could probably work on me... tell me not to do something and I'll do it wtf.)

Is it cos I'm a rebel? I think it's more... being fed up of listening to people telling me what to do. Sick of being a spineless pushover. And that's how I've developed this reflex of shutting the noise out when being told what I should do, or what I'm supposed to do.

I would just like to ask, why the fuck should anyone live one's life according to anyone else's dictation?

I stand by the principle that, unless you're hurting anyone else, unless you're bringing any sort of harm to others, just do whatever the fuck you want. Develop your own intellectual thoughts, your own moral principles, your own interests and preferences.


Shit! I just gave myself a pep talk wtf.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Foster the People Live in Kuala Lumpur!

A sign of an awesome concert: You, sitting desolate, not knowing what to do with yourself after.

Seriously it's like what the hell am I supposed to look forward to now??

If you don't know who I'm talking about...


Ok let me start from the beginning. I only found out about the concert ONE WEEK before wtf mostly due to me travelling most of November and December last year. And it was purely by chance that I made the discovery, cos if I didn't visit Junk's website that day, I seriously would've had no idea and my life would not have been graced by the presence of Foster the People, in front of me, performing oh-so-awesomely. Their concert would've ended without me even knowing about it in the first place - OH GOD the HORROR. Therefore, I thank my lucky stars that I did find out, and that I did manage to get a ticket despite purchasing one fairly late. Although I gotta admit I was kinda pissed that I found out so late.

So. I was getting so excited today (or rather, it was yesterday already T.T) I was actually nervous wtf as if I was going on a blind date or something. Serious shit I can't remember feeling so excited for something EVER. Not even MCR cos before their concert I wasn't actually a diehard fan and frankly didn't know what to expect cos it was my first concert (Gosh my first).

By the time I got into my friend's car I was giggling shitless like some comical baboon. Excited as ever.

When I got to KL Convention Centre, HOLY SHIT such a long queue was already snaking out the door. I was like WTF what time did these people get here!!! So I went to the front hoping that the long ass queue was actually for another zone instead of Fanatic, but NO. Cue me walking back to the end of the line lips a-pouting and eyebrows frowned. How the fuck was I supposed to know that Fanatic Zone could accommodate so many people T_T. You know what time was that? 6pm wtf. Concert was supposed to start at 8.30pm. And to think that, my friend teased me for wanting to arrive at 5.30pm originally -____-.

I've learnt my lesson: if you wanna be in front for a freaking concert, arrive like 24 hours before WTF. Or at least, 9 hours.

Straight to after I got in at around 7 +, I was devising ways to squeeze to the very front since I was alone I thought that shouldn't be too hard right wtf. Alas, again my reasoning failed me as A) I'm not petite, B) I'm not really a thick-skinned-squeeze-to-the-front-regardless-of-shit-people-gives-you type of person. And as I witnessed a string of like 3 - 4 people navigate their way to the front only to come back out again, I assumed people gave them too much shit for them to stand wtf. So I was stuck in the middle, few rows from the stage.

They came on a little later after 8.30pm, and the crowd went BALLISTIC. For the first couple of songs, the whole crowd in front (don't know bout the back) was like a giant mochi ball, stuck together and swayed left and right with all the pushing going on. I didn't mind that much, as long as I was still actually able to stand wtf. But yeah at some point things got kinda breathless, literally squished out of breath. The crowd was absolutely crazy, and that's an understatement.

Couple of songs in and already I was sweating like a mofo. Don't think I sweat like that even when I exercise wtf. I think I got pushed even further behind somehow, in the midst of all the mochi helplessness.

Ok my memory sucks balls, so hopefully I'm not mistaken but they started off with Miss You.* One of my favourite songs, especially the feet twisting part of the music. But as you know by now, there was no actual space to do any feet twisting wtf.

*Edit: First song was Houdini. Told you my memory sucks donkey cock.

And their somewhere around third song, was Broken Jaw. Shit, can Mark Foster sing and shout. You could just FEEL the veins popping out his neck while he was screaming towards the end of the song.

What more can I say, every song was sheer awesomeness. I was raining sweat and tired as fuck, other signs of a great concert. Waste was awesome, Warrant was awesome, Call It What You Want was awesome, Helena Beat was awesome, and so on and so on.

Plus oh my God I really didn't expect them to play Ruby! One of Mark Foster's favourite songs, but it's unreleased as yet. And it was AMAZING. I nearly choked in tears when he got to my favourite part of the song. T_T.

Too bad they didn't play Love, Chin Music for the Unsuspecting Hero or Downtown. They could've played any of these for an encore but no...

After a mind-fucking-blasting (Russell Peters reference wtf) performance of Pumped Up Kids, one with a real long intro with Foster clearly enjoying himself, they ended the night I think with Cubbie throwing his guitar picks into the crowd? Am not sure though, as I was not at that end of the stage. Sure seems like it, judging from the Youtube videos that fellow concertgoers have already very efficiently uploaded.

By the way, everyone went apeshit for Pumped Up Kids. Sang along like mofos and whatnot. After all, it was the song that propelled them to stardom. When Foster climbed on to the speaker (I think?) at the side of the stage I totally thought (and hoped) he was gonna stage dive or something but alas! He tamely climbed down afterwards haha. Would've LOVED to grope his ass while he crowd surfed heh.

When the concert ended and there was no encore, the crew started cleaning up the stage. And this was where the theatrics didn't end for the night wtf. The audience who were still around started begging for stuff to be given/thrown to us haha. Some got water bottles, some got the setlist (!!) and one got a towel, most possibly the towel that Foster used to wipe his face wtf!!! He exclaimed, "Yeah dapat peluh Mark Foster!" WTF. And when this Caucasian girl got something after some major pleading she literally dashed off excitedly. Dashed. A few people that witnessed were like whoa, the fuck? Haha.

And what did I get? Zilch. Nada. Nothing! Oh I did get a very blur photo of an autographed All Access Pass of an Event Crew guy. Sigh. Should've begged harder, longer, louder to be given SOMETHING!!! But still, it was a great night haha.

Ah. What more can I say. I got to see Mark shoulder dance, slide backwards across the stage, smile happily at us as if impressed by our energy, I got to see the cute faces of Cubbie and Poncy, got to see Isom slamming on the drums and so on.

It was truly a night worth remembering. Slotted with the MCR concert, it's another contender for one of the best nights of my life, thus far.

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

I'm back!!!

Happy new year everyone! I think you've all read what there is to read about welcoming the new year with open arms and hopes, so let's not get cliched shall we?

Let me ask a question... must we always be doing something?

I don't know if a gap year is just a semi-established excuse to take a long break from everything, from either studies or entering the working world. Maybe it is, and truthfully I don't really care. What kinda saddens me is that some people, most Asians in fact, have never even heard the concept of a gap year. For most of them, finishing high school meant going to university immediately after; finishing your studies meant diving straight into job interviews and securing a job. It's one stage straight to the next, unquestionably.

It was with some horror and shock that a few friends reacted to my lounging at home, and having no immediate plans to do anything. I know I sound like a big fat good-for-nothing parasite leeching off my parents' savings in search of what-exactly-who-knows, and frankly I don't give a shit. I know I'm saying I don't give a shit now, but some days I do. And those days are filled with self-loath and doubt. But that's not important.

Why is it so imperative that I get a job as soon as possible? Again, must we always be doing something? My plan is not having a plan, is that really so hard to grasp?

Unless your family needs your support, unless your situation is so dire, unless you really need the money to survive, why the rush?

So happens I'm lucky enough to be able to not rush right now, and I'm immensely grateful for that. That doesn't mean that my parents don't go all Asian on my ass though, they still mention job hunting, career establishing, thinking about the future and so on. And I know that as time passes, these mentions will only get more frequent and pushy. I don't think that they'll let me take a full-on gap year, so it only feels as if my time is slowly but surely, running out.

Anyway I digressed a little there. What I really wanted to point out was the inability of people to accept or comprehend the concept of doing nothing. I can proudly declare that doing nothing is like my forte now! I've become so good at it it's only second nature now. Shit, I fucking love doing nothing, I can't say it enough.


So get off my business will ya?

I was hoping that this post would've been much more coherent and articulate but apparently I'm just not that good at organising my thoughts wtf. Plus it's 2am.

I have more to say but not the mental capacity to type them out nice and neat like a freshly wrapped present. So... good night I guess!