a little cuckoo

There’s this evil guilt dicing my insides into fragments. I’ve been containing this rage since this afternoon. A movie suggested to count backwards to have your anger be placed under control. Well my impatience made me feel even worse. Writing would be like throwing my grandma’s china. It’s my passive approach of an effective release. But honestly my anger is even beyond my comprehension. I can’t even explain the reasons. I can just feel this little guilt swarming annoyingly in my head.

I know I tend to be insensitive somehow but I do not think I need to apologize. If people perceive my wit in a different way does it follow that I’m offensive? They got the wrong end of the stick here. Should I apologize for other people’s ignorance? They missed the factual tale and even injected such uneasiness into the situation. It doesn’t make sense to feel guilty on something I did not really do. So why do I feel so guilty then?

I believe paranoia is blameworthy. When I’m through deciphering my troubles, I fall into a conclusion of being paranoid. I seem to have it all the time. I already feel battered by the tensions of having this craziness in my head. I feel like I’m going nuts. I already have this habit of arguing with myself. Well anyway what I’m saying here is that I’m basically bugging myself. It was weird at first but somehow I’m starting to understand things. Writing is a good release and I feel a little exhausted now. I know it’s crazy but hey you’re still reading this then I guess you’re crazier.

still discreet

My sky on you has turned back blue,
An old breeze is pushing me back to you.
I still have doubts to let our eyes meet,
For my coffee is black and still discreet.

Into your coffee I’ve been staring,
Funny words, funny words wait I’m thinking.
As a girl and a boy we speak our words,
Laugh at people and forget our bores.

You’re not ordinary I still see your crown,
I took it far again please cut me down.
I am the ordinary with simple desire,
I am the ordinary don't put out the fire.

broken pipe dreams.

Well aside from architecture and photography and my insane fascination with x-men, I'm somewhat a fan of film-making. I'm lucky to find this video on youtube. From Nip/Tuck, Prison Break to Heroes now I'm currently fixed to "ON THE LOT". It's a show featuring amateur directors competing and aspiring to have the deal to be the next BIG like BIG BIG BIG Hollywood film maker. Well I've seen a lot of their works and so far this I think this is the best from that episode. It's a short film a few weeks back on the show. I enjoy the show and watch these guys turn my fantasy into reality. Enough of cliches just watch the video.

a little superstitious?

Sometimes my demon shrinks my sensitivity whenever I try to be funny. Well I do have a sense of humor and I’ve done fair enough in making people laugh or at least smile in pity. But sensitivity seemed to have disappeared in my humor. I didn’t mean to be rude or offensive but these words spur from my mouth impulsively. The more I try to be funny, the more I unintentionally abuse my sensitivity.

In the entrance lobby a welcome freshmen banner was being put up. They say that bad luck comes when you walk under a ladder. I realized my wicked humor and I was seized by guilt. I walked under the ladder for I deserve every bad luck the evil eye will offer me. Anyway what am I saying?

Walking under a ladder pushes such a risky practice. It may encourage a bad luck but for mere realistic reason. Setting up this kind of ladder would imply that there’s an on-going work and walking under it could injure you for tools could fall off. It’s more of endangering yourself for something could fall on the ground. It has nothing to do with disbelief in the holy trinity or whatever. So if ever you walked under a ladder, you don’t have to wait for bad luck to happen. It’s not going to happen.

the world we live in

My sisters and my mom left for Thailand yesterday. They left the house with their constant clattering and mindless ditzy humor. Their unrestrained surge of noise is just so distracting that my brain frankly couldn’t keep up any longer. Sometimes our house has no room left for silence. My continuous struggle for it has been broken to exhaustion.

I was born in a noisy world, with girls screeching, shouting, and never-ending ramblings. Maybe I’ve gotten used to it like my head has been clatter-proof. But as I grow older, I face more responsibilities, more priorities, more stuff to think about, more stress to complain about, and now my head has loss its control. My nerves started to drop its limit on how much hammering it can take. A few more rattle and I’ll lose my sanity anytime.

With that kind of world I live in every single day, I always seek for a quiet world. My quiet world is alienating myself from the ear-piercing environment I’ve been exposed to. My quiet world is a full amount of silence. Their absence gave me that abandoned world I’ve been longing. No screeching, no shouting, I can easily think and focus. When I sat for dinner, words were lurking in my head like: How distracted am I really? I heard crickets chittering for an entire minute of silence. Before long I am uttering lines from songs and they hop out of my mouth like frogs. As I fork the beef on my plate the noises grew louder.

Perhaps my concept of a quiet world is not possible with all these distractions. Maybe the quiet world that I’ve been looking for does not necessarily exist as a lonesome silence. Maybe a quiet world is not letting myself be abstracted by all forms of noise. Maybe a quiet world is rather tuning myself out from all distractions. Maybe it’s about bending the amount of noise that I take without dragging myself away from the loud environment I was born in. Perhaps it is a reality to accept that we were all born in the shrill world of colorful forms of noise and the quiet world only exists when we tune out.

a barf-free piece of jazz

My life has been really different from how it was two or three months ago. If I was pressured back then by deadlines, now I’m really stressed for not doing anything lately. I’m finding myself in a not so crowded time. My idle hands are a little hungry for work. I honestly miss staying up late finishing drawings and shit myself from pressure. Somebody told me that I should perhaps savor each day for not a bit of this free time can be squeeze into my schedule quite soon.

Two months of vacation seems like an amazing dream that happened for an architecture student. Within that short span of break, I lavishly devoured the beaches like a hungry sand troll. I attended bizarre parties that I couldn’t go to before because my time has always been eaten up by school.

But since vacation is slowly fading its way out of the calendar and the rain is somewhat randomly assaulting the metro, it’s better to stay home. Turn on the tv and have an expensive couch potato lifestyle. I recently rediscovered how good it felt to have your lethargic fat ass glued on the couch and watch endless cartoons and poker-playing celebrities. I also managed to eat and drink while lying down without even choking (it’s a new skill that I discovered).

Well I’ve been a little productive too. My current lifestyle is not just about remote control clicking and food consuming and blogging. I cleaned my room the other day and sorted out my cds and had the chance to play a good piece of music. I have recently fallen in love with jazz and blues. I was surrounded that day with a barf-free music of jazz and saw myself listening, dancing and roughly scatting. I decided to focus more on this music right now and hopefully learn more about this genre.