Much More Than Just Words

Dear Nonexistent Santa

2011-12-20T19:12:00.002+08:00

As cynical as I have always been, ironically, I find Christmas as one of those days where being jolly, joy joy, is acceptable. Just because.

Maybe it's the ridiculously corny yet mood-setting "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, yayayuyuyuuu...," or the fact that Christmas decorations are not as glaringly annoying/cheesy as those of Valentine's... because, bitch please, there is only so much engraved-heart-ornaments I can visually digest.

Although, I do have to mention, I dreadfully loathe that both occasions involve restaurants, boutiques, malls, people who own these money-sucking destinations, exploiting consumers and in turn, commercializing these otherwise acceptably beautiful celebrations.

Still, as part of being a consumer, I was roped into being exploited for years on Christmas day. One year I was given a huge teddy bear that cost more than what I can imagine, and then the next I splurged on dinner that cost more than I can spend. Yes, unnecessary money spent, but then again, you earn money, you spend them- the circle of expensive tree leaves.

So, my Christmas was always magical, spontaneous, ridiculously romantic, and stupidly expensive: all in the name of the birth of Jesus Christ. Beautiful, isn't it? It makes so much sense, huh?

I'm not a Christian myself, so the significance of this holy day was not always holy (although, I did go to the church twice with the-person-whose-name-shall-not-be-mentioned. Kudos to me.)

So, this brings me to a question: What is Christmas to me then?

Back in the 90s, when I was a thumb-sucking little brat, my parents made me believe that Santa was part of a magical reality. Every year I would write a letter to this mystical Santa, and leave it on my desk (a substitution for a Christmas tree for the Asians.) I remember one of them was something like this:

Dear Santa,

I want to be married to Harry Potter.

Yours truly,

(My full name.)

Yes, I'm sure my parents had a ton of fun reading those letters and surprising me with a gift on the desk the next day... with MY NAME labeled on the present. You have no idea what this little gesture meant to me. As a kid, I imagined that Santa knew my name! I was a big deal!

Then, when I opened the present, it was usually exactly what I wanted/needed. It was magical and I believed every bit of it.

Of course, I wouldn't keep this Santa-Is-Real-And-He-Knows-My-Name thing as a secret, I told my cousins about the excitement.

That is when I felt that reality raped me in the butt.

It was a painful experience having to be repeatedly laughed at for one thing, and worst of all knowing that something you've always truly believed in is nothing but a bag of lies. I remember being very angry with my parents, but then, of course, they gave me more gifts in the end, so I moved on.

A few years later, gifts turned into cold, hard cash instead. I suppose when my brother and I were beginning to grow up, my parents started having a hard time knowing what we wanted, so instead, they substituted money for presents. Hence, the rush of waking up in the morning with anticipation, dissolved into sheets of expensive tree leaves. Soon enough, Christmas was just as significant as getting my monthly allowance.

Then, I started dating with XXX, who was the first who made me feel the excitement of Christmas all over again. That year, my Christmas was loud and unconventional, and I thought to myself, "I want to be with XXX for the rest of my life." I actually believed in eternal love. Wow.

Of course, reality and a truck full of complications caused by immaturity kicked in to save the day! We broke up after a year. I dated someone else. Same thing happened the next year, and the next year, and the year after.

So, what does Christmas day mean to me, then?

Christmas is about facing the truth and having the courage to accept it. My parents fooled me into believing the very existence of Santa. It was hard to face the fact that my December hero was fiction but I had to accept it, anyway.

The truth also consist of the idea of impermanence, that every thing around us will change. Presents to papers of money, lovers to friends, a little innocent girl to a cynical woman, etc.

Slowly, it was clear to me, that when I celebrate Christmas, I'm actually commemorating the notion of reality, impermanence, and looking at the world around us for what it is or has become.

Hence, that is why I feel that it is acceptable to be jolly, joy joy for nuts because, hey, Christmas taught me more about life than Malaysian education ever did.

Happy Christmas.

Nom nom nom.

Then

2011-10-19T01:54:00.001+08:00

I was balled up on my couch when this song kept playing on and on in my head.

The first time I heard it, I knew exactly who this song was for.

And just like the first time, the words of this song clings onto my every heartbeat...

"Then I'll follow you into the dark."

In memory of

2011-10-16T12:42:00.001+08:00

Reminiscing what once was a feeling you felt, what once was a moment you shared with someone, and what once you perceived as perfect; it's not for everyone.

Some people walk their lives allowing themselves to freely swim in nostalgia. They look at memories, and try to relive every pinch of sensory detail; and this fills them with the overwhelming force of reality- that things have changed, for the better or worse.

I'm like that. I love reliving a moment, remembering a feeling and the thoughts that came with it. It can mistakenly be perceived that I'm living in the past, but in my defence, it is the past that coloured the different sides of who I am at present.

I am what my past made me out to be and recalling it just shows me how much I have changed and why I decided to change.

Maybe that is the reason why sometimes I find it hard to accept those who avoid reminiscing about the memories from before.

Is it so terrifying to admit something that you wished did not happen? Is it such a daunting idea that facing the past can evoke certain deep-rooted emotions?

Memories bring out only the best in us, that is, if we choose to learn from them. It is not scary, nor is it perfect; but it happened and it is real.

So why fight something that is real? Make the best out of each memory.

Crack

2011-10-09T11:20:00.001+08:00

I'm just going to sit and watch as layers of lies begin to crack.

And when it does, I will be out of here.

In the meantime, for the sake of entertainment, for a chance to prove me right, for the reasons why I can never trust again, I'm going to just sit and watch it happen.

We danced in this long alley

2011-09-20T15:46:00.002+08:00

As our eyes find a white sheet of paper,
Words are drawn silently, a sniper;
We leap into a state of expression,
But ever a stealth secret, bounded by misinterpretation.

Transcending time, logic and the myriad of charades played,
Forging an effortless ignorance with the denial of fate;
We danced in this long alley in search of the other end,
Only to find the dark, cold, broken truth: we were never meant to amend.

Alas, just as the classical guitar fades gently into the background,
Asleep, you will hunt for another sound;
The one more trusting, accepting, independent and secured,
A place where distance is not measured.

If perseverance was a candy...

2011-09-16T13:54:00.001+08:00

Dear Inevitability,

To persevere and stand by what you deem to be true is somewhat a noble ability; however, when perseverance is born from having faith in something that you strongly or stubbornly believe in, so much so that you disallow rationality to intervene, you are just like any fundamentalist.

I feel that perseverance can only bring you that far. Sooner or later, you should (1) project a certain degree of logical cognitive process in conjunction with that belief or faith; (2) analyze to what extent you should drain yourself in this mystical belief that you have about that something, and (3) decide whether or not it is worth draining yourself for.

If at the end of the day, you decide that, "Yes, I shall continue to persevere through all of this bullshit," then by all means, do so.

However, bear in mind that to blindly believe in something, persistently, is what makes all of us ignorant to plausibly greater possibilities and opportunities, or even more "dauntingly", the truth.

We will never know, unless we allow ourselves to consider.

If perseverance was a candy, it must have a chewy center. :)

With love,

Semi-Purist

Pause to ponder.

2011-09-14T10:43:00.001+08:00

"There is nothing dreadful in life for a man who has truly comprehended that there is nothing terrible in not living." -Epicurus

Squished into a single cell of wood.

2011-09-06T00:19:00.001+08:00

Thank you for making me so happy.
6/9

Btw, some steak to celebrate?

xx.

A long chapter closed

2011-09-04T00:09:00.000+08:00

I glared at a still image of your laughter, a laughter as joyous as it use to be when you were with me. I have to admit, I was flustered. Because this time, you were with someone else. It was such a painful visual aid to accompany my already troubled mind.

Then, I heard stories from a reliable source that you were getting relatively close with another person. Again, my ever-so-imaginative mind started directing a movie of you and her, looking perfectly perfect, smiling at each other, sharing a moment with each other. A moment where I naively thought that you could never find it with anyone else but me.

Haha. I'm so stupid.

I'm so stupid for writing this, and allowing these suppressed emotions to be printed out with letters; it is kind of like a self-inflicted pain. Nevertheless, I still think it is important and necessary to address it.

I want you to move on as you, like everyone else, deserve to.

I am happy for you, and I should be.

So, cheers.

Cheers to a long chapter closed.

I wish you well.

Wearing Masks

2011-08-21T11:49:00.001+08:00

A smile for the camera can hide anything behind the sheets,

if you make it believable.

It is taught to not be the best way to cope with problems,

but it is still, justifiably, a workable way.

For some people,

this coping mechanism is what is making their world go 'round.

They feed on wearing beautifully-crafted masks.

Who are we to judge them,

when it is what they want;

what they feel most comfortable and the happiest with?

Really, what gives us the right to demean such notion,

when we all know very well,

that everyone is on the pursuit for happiness.

2011-08-19T02:29:00.000+08:00

Number 23.

The Dead Blowfly.

2011-08-19T01:37:00.000+08:00

You found the courage to distort the truth,

and hid it in a cottage somewhere in Duluth.

And as you take a flight back to your apparent lover,

lies held tight, far away from her.

Then you walk the day, with Pinocchio's nose,

covering lies with buckets of clay and a stalk of primrose.

The evening smelt beautiful and your hopes were high,

enough to be faithful, enough to comply?

And as you return to that cottage of yours,

in that cavern, your lover adores...

She finds your lie, laying perfectly still,

A dead blowfly, a sudden windchill.

Since you found the courage to distort the truth,

Find the fucking courage to date another Ruth.

Away

2011-08-18T01:37:00.000+08:00

The moment I awaken,

my eyes were startled by the sight of Bukit Tinggi.

And my toes just had to feel the chilly breeze.

Then I paused to ponder, yet again.

Sometimes, we should all fall into a deep, untouchable sleep;

away from society, away from the reality before our eyes.

We owe it to ourselves:

to get away from the barking noise of commitment.

A retreat from the rushing rhythm of the city;

A shunt from the boiling pressure of expectations.

Just for a moment:

let us imagine that earth stood still.

As we give ourselves the freedom to take on responsibilities,

we eventually indulge in them;

and through pages of time,

we become our responsibilities.

We, then, lose a little of ourselves.

Sometimes, we should all fall into a deep, untouchable sleep.

Just for a moment.

And when we come back to this world, its reality,

and the lives we are living,

somehow, everything becomes pellucid.

Thanks, Daniel W.

We shalt meet again, in two years?

The beginning of an end.

2011-08-13T01:35:00.000+08:00

I aspire to fade,

and escape from these noises.

They are so loud that

I can't even hear myself think.

But I was the one who chose to pick up these sticks,
and now I stare at the inevitable repercussions.

As I quietly ponder:
I'm beginning to not give two shits.

We can all lie and say that it is my fault,

after all, that is the sole purpose of a scapegoat.

Now, fuck off.

Always

2011-08-08T13:56:00.001+08:00

Look!

I'm here.

When nothing in this world seem right.

I would do it all over again.

2011-08-05T01:13:00.003+08:00

It's like, nothing else in this world matters;

and it's just you and the blaring sound of music, in pure unison.

I snaked into a filthy, God-forbidden toilet, tussled with my stomach spasms, choked up my anger towards the noises produced by K-HELL motorists, and waited for SIX damnable hours, doing nothing but be angry with the world.

Weird enough, I would do it all over again.

~~But of course, do remind me to not wear heels the next time.~~

A New Beginning

2011-07-27T11:31:00.001+08:00

I tend to search eagerly for a reason not to trust a person; and I like to think of it as a coping mechanism. Though, the underlying truth is, the extensive experiences I encounter with liars over the years, have mold me into becoming this globe of insecurities.

With my blog refurnished, and my mind refreshed, I shall start drawing new memories. Happy ones.

This time, without any more excuses.

"I put no one else above us

We'll still be best friends when all turns to dust."

To be given another chance again,

miracles do exist.

On a random but meaningful note:

2011-07-26T04:24:00.000+08:00

Dear stubborn walrus,

Yes, crickets chirp.

Only available at FRIM.

And I'm sorry, for misunderstanding.

Will make it up to you: bbt.

Love,

The Person You Endlessly Mock

A Dark Humor

2011-07-26T04:17:00.000+08:00

It is nothing but a dark humor as we laugh at the past.

Where once a stroll at the park, was enough of a memory to last.

With merely a stalk of lily and we find a crass story;

As imperfect and raw it always will be, they are the ones true to what is reality.

The hands of time shall wake us from this deep, sore, pain of longing.

But will it fade what seems to be the beginning?

I am tormented just by reading the words of the author

For he depicted a senseless sacrifice as his main character

It is nothing but a dark humor as we laugh at the past;

Because every thing reminds me, that I am a failure, recast.

Unworthy and incapable of a simple, uncomplicated, orthodox love;

To be damned, with the insecurities of a woman scorned, from above.

Yes, it is nothing but a dark humor.

The loyal companion, Music.

2011-07-16T04:30:00.000+08:00

Credits to: Mior Anwar Aizuddin

The last mistake I made was making that mistake.

2011-07-16T04:16:00.002+08:00

We are the only ones who knew this kind of love.

I promise you this.

Skies above had nothing to do with it.

No.

This is gonna be our last mistake.

We won't find out 'till it's too late.

I wonder if she's gonna stay.

I left before he was awake.

A mistake can potentially inflict pain upon ourselves from the repercussions, but we suffer an even greater pain when that mistake involves hurting people we care and love...well, at least it is true, for me.

I loathe the fact that human beings are innately social creatures; because this means that I have to constantly consider and weigh in the verifiable truth, that we all are subjected to the inevitable interactions between one another, when I make decisions that may have moral grey areas. This would also mean that my decisions will affect the people around me, one way or another, now or later.

I hate, hate, hate it.

Why can't I make a mistake, and only let it affect myself? Why can't I make a mistake and not have other people suffer because of it?

Sadly, I've come to learn that one man's mistake, is his cohort and everyone else's matter... somehow; and that (for the lack of better word) sucks.

I can't, even if I wanted to start over.

I'm too conscious.

The city is my amplifier,

and soon

a scrapbook of painful memories.

Hush Now.

2011-07-10T11:40:00.001+08:00

I hate it when dreams bring you back to where you once were.

"Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions,

false memories, false naming of real events"

-Adrienne Rich

Touche

2011-07-01T20:11:00.002+08:00

Recently, my latest blog post "Your Words and Mine" got heap amount of unnecessarily negative attention. The statement I feel relatively strongly about, I'm beginning to understand... why freedom is so addictive, was what, I perceived, to have cause this entire minute saga.

Although unnecessary, I still feel the need to address this matter in this form, to fully decode what I believe others might have misinterpreted regarding the previous blog post.

I find great fascination in the beauty of language, and also a being's capability to use language in absolute clarity and precision that can potentially invoke intended or unintended emotions. Yes, I love how words can mean so much to me.

At the same time, I find it rather suppressing to only confine my words, thoughts, and expressions, within this very blog. A blog is solely (in my definition) a form of self-expression. There are no interactions or whatsoever, ergo, it somehow feels as if my words are bouncing back and forth with me, and only to me.

A month ago, I got back in touch with an old friend, Sanjay, who randomly sent me a message saying, "Check my pulse, am I still breathing?" This phrase, thus, fired a flow of ideas and perceptions from two rather different but somehow similar people.

Being able to communicate and relate perceptions from my paradigm to another person who is as open-minded and interested enough to listen and reply, is what I coined as freedom. I feel a sense of freedom being able to connect to a person through words that are born from deep thoughts; and this freedom is addictive, to me.

That is all there is to explain regarding the former blog post. I do understand that just as ancient manuscripts are subjected to multiple interpretations and misinterpretations, everything that is written on my blog naturally is subjected to the unique minds of the public. Hence, my words are my responsibility- which brings me back as to why I feel the need to address the matter.

To be completely honest, when I first read the comments, I felt a pang of annoyance: a natural impulsive reaction coming from a 20-year-old who is struggling with emotional intelligence. Then, I began to feed on these comments. I kept revisiting my blog daily to see what fun things people have to say to and about me.

A few times, I was slapped with accusations of me being immature. I suppose it is all right for people to perceive me as not worthy of my age. I mean, maturity is such a subjective, arguable matter. A mature person can call an immature person immature; and an immature person can call a mature person immature. blahblahblah yadiyuu... it's all gibberish to me. So, it did not exactly bother me.

Then it went on suggesting that I was immoral. Now... this statement really got me bewildered. So I went back to the blog post, and reread it three times. After that, I was certain that I did absolutely nothing immoral, as it was just a post I decided to publish, with the sole purpose of dedicating it to a friend of mine. Is this behavior termed as immoral? Hmmm...

Then one comment really made me ponder deeper within this matter.

blog walker..: maybe the action u made that brought u to the said freedom leads to u being called immoral/immature. maybe u(jenn) should reflect urself so that u understand why all this rage are here. my 2cents.

Although I would love to elaborate how my brains were absolutely squeezed out of the window just by trying to interpret this comment, I took the time to reflect, as suggested by blog walker.

Hence, upon reflection, I theorized: I must have committed something despicably wrong, (in my defense) unknowingly.

For a group of people to

Deliberately raise issues that seem irrelevant to the content of the blog post, shows that there is a trigger behind the misinterpretation- an already tainted pair of glasses when reading my blog;
Continuously criticize me not based on my writings, but my apparent actions, suggests that they probably know me or heard about me;
Call me immoral- they must really think I've done something terribly wrong. Because lets face it, to brand a person the status of immorality, it's a heck of a big deal.

With that said, I'm really sorry for _______________.

Please stop investing your time and energy on my blog (unless you want to increase my blog's otherwise low traffic rate.)

:)

Have a pleasant day ahead.

Jenn

Your Words and Mine.

2011-06-21T18:51:00.001+08:00

Check my pulse, am I still breathing?
Check my face, am I still me?

Will you grasp my heart and hold it dear to your heart?
And will you look me in the eye and tell me I exist?

I'm leaving behind everything in this world for you. How we live and fight is who we are.
And scars are our badge of bravery.

But how stubborn are those scars when they don't fade away? Or just a gentle reminder that now are better days?
Scars, and even if they fade, the memories and lessons remain.

That's why we make new memories and try to make full use of it. The scars and memories are the only thing that makes us feel human. The mistakes we learn from are never regretted. It's something we can never understand. It's just something we believe in to get us by, through thick or thin. Like how you are, you are, the beginning to my end.
But if I'm the beginning to your end, would it mean you'd be the end of my beginning?

Nope, I hope to be the flickering light that will lead you through the darkness to a sky full of stars. And so, the sky clears its way for you.
I will experience what true beauty and hope is. And I'll be forever thankful.

The big empty, but with hope inside; needless to say, our words will tell a beautiful story.
Because if I were to walk by my lonesome, there is only so much I can create. But, with my reflection, walking beside each of my imagination, I, we, become limitless.

That is why I am here to accompany you, along this journey we call life; your reflection is not alone. Yours is two steps ahead of mine. And when we reach our destination, together our shadows we can chase a shadow that we made believe.
You are my reflection, remember? And when I look at you, I'm not afraid to admit my flaws, and weaknesses.

... and I will try to be there, through the the shadow of the Sun or the dimming light of the moon. With your vision, we're always right, like the essence of an amazing art described through your expressions.
And with your vast knowledge, we're always ready; to take chances and risks, and to make meaning out of our existence.

We exist in a profound meaning that's borrowed from our passion from always chasing something to steal our hearts. And everyday even though I've fallen thoroughly, you raise me up. And if I could describe beauty, it would be in a form of you.
I once said, that we are all born quiet hedonists. We enter our existence only to receive pleasure and the goodness of everything. So if I were to talk about pleasure, happiness: it would be to have someone like you, who understands and allows me the courage to type out my deeply-created thoughts.

Your words and mine.

For they will never understand;

The words we seem to comprehend.

Thanks friend. :)

Hello, stranger.

2011-06-13T10:11:00.003+08:00

"I would be, if I could."

Can't wait for you to drop by Malaysia.

Rawrr.

And then it plays again...

2011-06-11T12:48:00.001+08:00

Although it was metal all night long...

"One piece of paper can be heavier than any weight.

With words that hold their heavy heart,

A map that seems to keep her in both place."

Somehow, it will always end up with fifteen words.

Open up your pretty brown eyes.

2011-06-06T11:32:00.004+08:00

This trip made me realize that, there is more to life than your personal problems.


Cameron Highlands

I guess, sometimes, all it takes for you to come to the realization,

that your problems and even you, are not that significant afterall;

you just need to drive far away to the highlands,

walk through the evening breeze,

and let everything around you remind you,

that there are bigger things in life.

The greatest and the only consolation we can count on is:

Behind every obstacle, there is always a clear peaceful sky.

An Oxymoron.

2011-06-04T18:31:00.000+08:00

I take too much pride in the fact that I am nothing like anyone else I know; I loved the fact that my perceptions are so out of this world, and that I am filled with endless complexities. I loved this feeling. Simply because, it makes me feel that I am special, unique, interestingly different from others, the norm.

But what I do not realize is that I somehow manage to make everyone else around me utterly confused about my actions that they gradually become physically incapable of wanting to accept me. This broke my heart.

Upon reflection, I realize that the problem about me is, I am very emotional and also very rational, but sadly, they do not work simultaneously. That is seemingly why others, including myself, perceive me as being very contradicting. A moment I can look at you and tell you that you are everything to me, and a couple of days later, I distant myself because I realize that I am complicating a situation.

If only I can find that link, that connection, or even just a balance, that self-regulation...

I would be a happier person.

I know that, to you, it seems as if I don't know what I want.

Perhaps I really deserve to be left alone right now.

I'm sorry.

If it matters, I miss everything about you.

Impermanence.

2011-06-03T00:39:00.004+08:00

I love the way each bite stings so badly. It makes me feel exquisitely human. Then, I'm left with bruises; and they become impermanent memories.

Each time I brush my hand across these wounds, I'm reminded of that time when I was most comfortable, most secured, yet most vulnerable.

A moment so serene, where only the mind's imagination can reach. Yet, these wounds remind me, that it was once a reality.

Alas, everything that is real is subjected to impermanence. A wound heals, and so would a broken heart. A memory fades, and so would a beautiful promise.

It seems like it's a game God designed for us.

So, I have no choice, but to throw the dice.

I may smile and you may think I am strong.

But the more I pretend, the more I am become.

Again, I am nothing but a bag of contradictions.

Only if you choose to look close enough...

L.O.V.E.- Nat King Cole

2011-05-01T03:28:00.001+08:00

All I truly own is a box of ideas

to make you feel special

for the first time over the years.

I have here, in my hand

a voice, I have yet to feel confident with

a five out of ten.

I may sing to songs

that you would yawn to

or maybe label as clichés

But that is all I have to offer
and so I thought it is
what you would prefer

I recorded L.O.V.E.
a piece by the great Nat King Cole
for our 2nd year anniversary.

Played it at the restaurant
proudly displaying my affection
through his words, so simple and blunt.

But all you ever talked about,
to me, and to your friends,
was the AX wallet I got you, instead.

All I truly own is a box of ideas
sadly, in the end of the day,
it's money that really matters.

Here's the song again,

just in case, you know, you've forgotten.

Here I am, wondering, how many girls would do this for you.

L is for the way you look at me

O is for the only one I see

V is very, very extraordinary

E is even more than anyone that you adore

Love is all that I can give to you

Love is more than just a game for two

Two in love can make it

Take my heart and please don't break it

Love, was made for me and you.

Because I care.

2011-04-30T12:58:00.001+08:00

I was at Movida last night around 10.40pm- to be even more precise, I was standing OUTSIDE of the club at 10.40pm. Just waiting... and waiting... for exactly an hour, until it was 11.40pm.

What was I waiting for?
We opened three bottles, but not everyone (invited/not-invited) was there yet- so we waited... like some stupid paparazzi lingering around the corner for Britney Spears to arrive and shave her head again. No, not really.

What was I there for?
It was a birthday celebration for Ian's friend, Brian Soon.

Why am I blogging about this?
Something happened in the club that vividly reminded me about something else.

After the honorable non-invited guests arrived (1 hour late), we emerged into the already packed club. It was my first time in Movida, so I was unsure of my surroundings. Coupled with the fact that I barely knew anyone who came, I felt the need to alienate myself- at first.

There were a few under-aged girls who tagged along. I don't know them, so I just stood by the counter, enjoyed my very neat drink, and the blasting music of mainstream pop songs. Ian was trying hard to get me to mingle around. But, seriously, how do you talk and get to know a person at the clubs? You're going to just waste time injuring your voice box while the person you're trying to converse with is too tipsy to respond logically. So, really, what is the point in that?

Plus, I was not in the mood to socialize and make blatantly cheap, small talks. Yes, I have my days/nights. I'm a moody person.

After a couple of drinks, the booth of people started dancing. I joined in. My dancing parter was, of course, Ian. It was a very liberating feeling to be able to get onto the dance floor again, after so long. My alter-ego sort of grabbed onto my veins the moment I started to dance and I felt like I was a different, couldn't care less, and confident person. Awesome.

Ian and I

Everyone was happy, happy, joy, joy, then suddenly, one of the under-aged girls, had to puke all over the booth. She was so wasted that she just slept beside her pile of puke-ness. About the same time, the other under-aged girl, started puking too.

I stood there, being a spectator of a very distasteful scene... reminded me of the time, one of my best friends got drunk and wasted.

It was at MOS, and she was literally all over some random bloke. Watching her completely turn into someone/something wild, was not the most painful part. I remembered very clearly, she starred into my eyes and yelled a "FUCK YOU!" That, actually, was the most painful part.

My best friend, drunk as hell, throwing herself at some stupid guy, and cursed at me, right in my face when I was looking out for her. I can't lie, but I was really hurt, just seeing her spiral down that way. I went home, crying. I don't even know why. I really don't, and that's what sucks.

But after a long, long time apart, I reflected and I realized that perhaps it was because I hated watching people I care about getting into a state of uncontrollable madness. I can't, physically, forgive myself, that I allowed her to drink so much.

I regretted that night, but I guess people do have to move on somehow. I'm sorry.

Anyway, that's enough emo-ness for one post.

Here's something a little lighter to end it.

One of the drunk girls, puked all over my hand. :)

There. Have a great day.

Cheers!

Am I Jenn?

2011-04-28T01:31:00.002+08:00

So get this, my face is ruined by pimples that are of size XL, my mouth is infested with two ulcers which I would accidentally bite on them every time I eat, and occasionally, my stomach decides to produce some spasms to create what seem like a gastric attack.

All of this due to stress from studying for finals... and I STILL HAVE TO WAVE GOODBYE TO AN A.

Yes, yes, call me a nerd. Okay, shuddap. Don't call me that. It's been a parade of unhappy events that happened to me today. I don't need you, my imaginary readers, to further destroy what's left of my day.

Okay, so lets start all over again. With a barely there, sarcastic smile.

Dear ~~imaginary~~ audience, for this blog post, I shall get a little personal, a little intimate with you. Come, sit closer and put your hand up my... while I...

...tell you, the background story of how Jenn came a bout. Fine, I'll give you a moment to roll your eyes... Okay, moments gone.

So, hi, I'm Jenn, and this is not my real name. It's my almost-glamor name, my stage name and sometimes, my alter-ego.

I was still Yen-Yi when I was done with hellschool, I mean high school. Off the record, I really hated living out those years. I was boycotted, back-stabbed, front-stabbed, and I didn't have any friends; maybe because my attitude was as repelling as a bitch's. Oh, wait, I was called a bitch then, too. Aaah, what's life without any drama. Hmm? :)

So, ANYWAY, after hell school, I started working at One Utama as a customer service agent. My employer asked me for my name-what I'd liked to be called... This created a monologue in my head.

Name, name, what is my name?
I don't like just anybody calling me "Yen". Only Huey Sing has the privilege to call me that. Yes, Huey, felt a pang of flattery? :)
I don't want people calling me "Yen-Yi", because it's somehow very hard for some to pronounce my name properly, without making it sound anything remotely like "Yeyi."
Okay, I don't want "Yen," so how about something that rhymes with it?
Hmm..
Jen?
So, lets hear how it sounds like in context: Yes, Jen. Sit down, Jen. Go pick up those receipts, Jen.
It sounds okay to me.
How can I make something that sounds okay, to sounding full-on awesomeness?
Oh, I KNOW. ADD ANOTHER 'N' to it.
Hence, JENN.

This is how it all started. My colleagues called me Jenn. Then, I entered college, I made my college mates address me as Jenn.

So, I made it official and altered my name on facebook to Jenn Chia Yen-Yi.

My first ever gig at Mardi Gras with Louis, I used Jenn instead of Yen-Yi.

This made Jenn my stage name, too. Simply because, the sad truth is, Jenn sounds more marketable, glamorous than Yen-Yi (or, Y-Squared... urk! Nerd.) :(

Then, I went to MOS for the first time.

The moment I stepped onto the dance floor. I FELT LIKE I WAS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PERSON. I danced, and danced like there's no tomorrow: Totally confident, sure of myself, didn't give a damnable care about the world around me, and I actually felt sexy. Yes, I actually did feel sexy.

OMG, Jenn? You are capable of being/feeling sexy? Really? Wait, do you actually know what sexy is? You need to have at least C-cups dangling in front of you, in order to be even considered sexy. Shuddap, okay. Shuddap. Don't take my moment away from me, because, I only have that many moments. :(

I label the clubbing me as Jenn, my alter-ego: the person who dances on the podium and don't give two fucks about the anyone.

There you have it. A little history lesson about me.

Sorry I wasted three minutes of you life, imaginary audience. I come in peace.

:)

Some need sex, I need sleep.

2011-04-22T21:17:00.000+08:00

I want to walk and walk towards a place that is serene, quiet, and peaceful. Like the ~~bitch~~ beach above.

But no, I don't want dudes with million packs on their bodies, posing around for attention. Or, chicks with boobies bigger than my face, running around the beach to forcefully (or by the means of gravity) make them jiggle... Nope, none of that. My eyes would be distracted, either way.

I want my own little island. It doesn't have to be big, it just has to be quiet and filled with tranquility. Away from home, away from where I feel safe, away from people and their dirty secrets, away from everything else that is real to me.

And I can achieve aaaaall of that, every time I get my beautiful 8 hours of snoozing.

However, I've never gotten more than 5 hours of sleep lately; so this whole tranquility ~~crab~~ crap can only remain as a dream, literally.

So, you might wonder (or not), why am I barely sleeping, when it is my hobby?

Here's why: COLLEGE, DRAMAAAAAA, and iPhone.

The remains of my life revolves around these three elements. In college, I am the nerd who work last minute. At home, I am the girlfriend who cause drrrramaaa (say it in an Indian accent... much more dramatic. Try it.) At night, I am the iPhone addict who is addicted to my iPhone.

College and assignments, nothing new. Boyfriend and dramaaa, NOTHING NEW; in fact, we fight four times a day, everyday of the week... except Sunday, because you know, it's church day, so my boyfriend is nice to me. Okay, I kid you. (Baby, if you're reading this... I know you chortled.) So anyway, what is new is the fact that I am an iPhone a-dick (It's suppose to be "addict" for those who are a little slow... I joke, of course.)

I have identified three reasons why I am in love with the iPhone:

My iPhone never argue with me about ANYTHING. So, no dramaaa there. Except if I am on the phone with the boyfriend, and we're verbally abusing each other... but that doesn't count. In general, the phone does nothing to raise my blood pressure.
It actually decreases the level of my blood pressure. It brings me joy (apps), happiness (iPod), and nerdness (I can study with the phone.)
I can study with the iPhone. Long gone are those days where I have to either bring my laptop out to Starbucks to study, along with the battery charger and the Tron looking laptop cooler, or I print out ~~shits~~ sheets and sheets of academically useless slides. Now, I just have to load the slides into my phone, and walaa, instant nerdness.

Although these three reasons are inevitably awesome, the iPhone does rape me away from my beautiful sleep. So I need to find the balance between, college, dramaaaaa, and iPhone.

So, my goal, I shall (TRY TO) sleep at 11 pm every night.

The state of tranquility... mama's home.

( I don't know why I just typed that. I swear it's the first time I've ever associated myself with anything that rhymes with mama...)

Oh well.

I hope you're sleeping well.

Cheers.

Hi

2011-03-29T23:25:00.002+08:00

I am forced to fall back into reality.

All this while, I've been dreaming for something unreachable, something unreal, and something close to a lie.

Sometimes, it is really too late to apologize.
But here I am, apologizing, for wanting and dreaming to chase what you can never give me.

I'm sorry.
x

We're our own responsibility.

2011-03-29T22:50:00.000+08:00

It's been awhile.

I shall readopt the lifestyle of a blogger again...

soon enough.

Sometimes it feels like it's me
against all the clouds in the sky.

There are too many things coming in my way at the rate that I can't catch up with them. Things that I have to sacrifice, people to please, goals to achieve, promises to keep, and absolutely new things to experience... It's getting to a point where I am utterly overwhelmed by just the thought of these commitments and decisions.

Some deal with these issues by taking one step at a time, one problem at a time. Others would just clump them all together and walk away from it. The God-centered ones would pray to the One above for guidance. The procrastinators would say "there's always another day."

Although I've almost always dealt with my own issues by my lonesome, this time, I decided to lean towards the people I trust and care about for support.

But soon, I realize, they're not always there. I see that they have their own sets of priorities and interests as well, and because of that, I can't bank on them to give me the instant support and the empathetic ears that I need. I am not in any position to demand.

I once noted, that my position in anyone's life, is always a displacement. It can be depressing to admit it, but I decided, what the hell, might as well accept it and work my way around it rather than to sit there and beg for attention.

So after going one big round, I'm back here, alone in my room... dealing with my own problems.

You can't and should not count on anyone.
It is a very selfish thing to do: you're expecting that person to be supporting you, and listening to your problems.
He or she is not obligated to do that for you.

Simply because, we're all our own responsibility.

Maybe that is why I've never taken hugs for granted.
Because each hug means that someone is willing to hold me
and share a moment with me, close to me.

Changes

2011-02-12T00:09:00.001+08:00

The two persons I love most in my life, destroyed me, this very night. One still worries too much about me, my every footsteps, and the other is just making my trust issues that much harder to overcome.

It's so much easier to not care, isn't it?

I know you'd say that.

You've watched me grow

and you watched me miss a step...

But when will I really fall?

Or will you actually let me experience that fall?

It all boils down to the very fact

that you don't trust me.

And I wonder, will you ever be able to.

At the back of this postcard,

you know I love you;

and I know you love me too...

Just wanted to put that out,

that I'm very well aware of that.

I hope you know that too.

Nevertheless,

do you love me enough to allow change to happen?

I'm sorry for hurting you with my words,

I just don't know any better.

It's so much easier to let go, isn't it?

You did, once.

Which makes me wonder,

if getting back together with you...

is of any good, at all.

You talk and you do,

but they are very different things altogether.

You miss who you were before,

and that is very evident before my eyes.

Like I said,

you change... and you'll change back,

sooner or later.

And that is because,

it is not who were or who you want to be

from the very start.

I'm not complaining,

I'm questioning because I want to know...

if this is it.

I'm not saying I'm not at fault,

I am. Both arguments are both my fault.

I wish I was more obedient and timid,

and I wish I was born with a trusting heart.

I'm sorry.

Sometimes, perhaps it's easier if we weren't this close.

Four Walls

2011-01-29T02:58:00.006+08:00

It's like I'm hitting the walls each turn I make;

Every damn thing I do is wrong.

***

And when I attempt to make things better for you...

I'm wrong.

When I leave what you want me to leave...

you call me an extremist.

Wrong. Again.

Then, I go out and do what I want to do...

you accuse me of not putting you as my top priority.

Guess what, I'm wrong again.

When I stay where you want me to stay

and I miss you and bug you to come see me...

you place other things at the top of your list.

I'm wrong again for feeling lonely.

Oh, and this morning,

when I showed you how insecure I was...

You raised your voice,

and complained about how fragile I am.

I guess it's wrong to be so insecure.

Then I decide to indulge in singing,

my music,

the music you don't know how to appreciate...

I'm wrong again for doing that.

After that, I want a break...

you make me feel that I am the one who's wrong.

Again.

Memories in a Chord.

2011-01-24T01:10:00.001+08:00

"The sun, reminds me of the blue sky.
Where you and I, were still new and shy.
We would walk the park in circles without a word,
We would smile each time we get the chance;
Now, smile."

Amazing how lyrics can paint such a vivid picture of a memory in your mind.
That's why I love songwriting.

At Least I Tried

2010-12-15T00:06:00.001+08:00

Please stop ringing my doorbell
It's not like I have any more to give
Please stop telling me excuses
I don't have any strength to understand
Now you are crying, and begging for me not to go
Have you forgotten, all your lying, they brought you right here

So, try to understand, because of all the pain that I am feeling, I can't look you in the eye
So, try to understand, now that I have given all that I could, so why should I forgive you?

At least I tried
At least I tried
At least I tried...

This is the best that I could do for now. I can't bare the pain that I'm feeling and that is why I can't finish this song.

I love you always, but you've disappointed me by not having faith in me to tell me the truth. A coward in a knight suit, is worse than a coward in his own skin.

Draw a Big Circle & Drop Back to Reality

2010-12-07T16:43:00.001+08:00

You know how sometimes something- anything- small little thing, can have the capacity to fill your brain with pots of atomic bomb ready to implode within the space of your confined skull?

Yeah, well the best way to deal with it, is to:

(1) Buy a bean bag plush toy, like so.

(2) Punch the bean bag plush toy so hard that you make yourself feel bad because the plush toy is so helplessly cute. Yes, when you start to feel bad... it's working.

(3) Get all Chris Brown with things that matter to you: like a shirt your ex-boyfriend left at your place, or the cd you made for your ex-boyfriend but he never bothered asking about. Tear them, ripe them, break them!

(4) Get all The-Hulk with sinfully sweet food. Remember, the angrier the sweetness, the better. Try breaking 5 Mars chocolate bars and heat it up in the microwave for about 3 minutes. Pour MOAR sugar into the mixture. Stir and eat. Neat.

At this point, you must be feeling pretty sick. Good. You're heading somewhere.

(5) Nerd yourself. Soak up all the nerd-ness by reading your philosophy textbook.

And finally:

(6) Smile, and know that human beings are social beings- Because Confucius said so. We are connected to someone, nay, some-more-than-one. Human beings can never live alone.

And probability has it, that someone of the many-ones out there loves and cares about you. It is mathematically possible. :)

There, there, feeling a little better?

Good, now come back to reality.

HAHA.

Cheers and have a good day.

2010-12-06T00:10:00.001+08:00

The day I let go of my grudge and jadedness about group projects, free-riders, and friends who see my worth as only a utility to their advantage, is the day of liberation.

But sadly, today is not the day.

It's sick to love and take pride of your work too much... and worst of all, they say it's part of reality.

Finals

2010-12-03T23:17:00.000+08:00

MUST.
GET.
A.

If not, I'll just burn myself.

:)

Please please please watch my video and VOTE FOR ME!

2010-11-16T23:58:00.002+08:00

Do people change?

2010-11-08T02:43:00.001+08:00

If it's that important to you, then just go.
It's just a matter of time, that you'll turn back into who and what you use to be.

Aaah, humans.

So, you've guessed my philosophical bent towards the humans: I don't believe that people change.

They'll change, and then they'll just "change back" into another mold of the same ingredient; which makes it constant at the end of the day.

Blah.

I want to feel you in me. Oh.

2010-10-28T01:35:00.000+08:00

I'm talking about the facts in Religions of Asia, my final mid term paper.

It's driving me crazy. I love learning and studying religions of the world.

BUT I DON'T LOVE MEMORIZING DETAILED FACTS ABOUT RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD.

The terms like anicca, anatta, avidya, arhat, atman, Brahman, agni, indra... .... ...

Yup, I need all of those in me...

I need the A.

2010-10-26T22:46:00.000+08:00

Can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Finally, a quiet dinner.

Just the two of us.

Love you.

I'm Being Juggled.

2010-10-20T13:11:00.000+08:00

You do too many things, you start to forget what you did.

And that is when you could come to a realization,

"you are not living life at all, life is living off you."

(More accurately, though, life is spilling out of you.)

That is precisely how I feel right now. I'm not juggling work and college and family, I'm being juggled by work, and college, and family;

This morning, I began asking myself, WHY?

Every single day, I start with thoughts of what chores I have to do for the day. Once I'm through with that, I'm busy doing the chores. After the chores, I focus on my own little, half an hour, entertainment-facebook and youtube. I bath, and fall into a sleep that only lasts less than 6 hours. Then, I repeat the story the next day.

WHY?

Living life is to live life to the fullest, apparently.

Well, my days are pretty full alright, so full, that I'm being stifled by it.

Is that what it is?

To really live life, is to be stifled by life itself?

Right.

My Dream, Your Joke.

2010-10-17T01:52:00.003+08:00

Now that it's clear,
I shall tap onto the wing mirror.
And make my way
into the world of terror.

Where dreams begin,
and broken forever.
There, I will try,
to break the curse of each believer.

To reach a goal,
to be my own savior.

Thus, you will laugh,
and make me a joker.

But in the end,
I will turn you into a sad living beggar.
Just because,
you joked about a day-time dreamer.

You go, Adam!

2010-10-17T00:16:00.004+08:00

It's pretty obvious who's the bigger Adam Lambert fan.

Standing at the pit. Glued to each other.
Yes, vomit if you want; I'm in love.
Pfft.

Adam Awesome-bert.

A very sporting middle-age lady.
Cheers to her!

In the car, heading to my place.
Tired but satisfied.

I'm not going to shout "I'm in love with Adam Lambert!" Because I am not, in love with him.
Instead, I like his stage presence, and his interesting voice. Interesting, yes. I just used"interesting" to describe the quality of a person's voice.

Anyway, what I really respect about him is that he brings along a glorious chunk of confidence with him, everywhere.

That man is like Madonna in cone-shaped bra, who dares to be different, who dares to express his femininity. Full-on! The way he sways his shoulders, and body, oh, and his unforgivably tight purple pants that somehow manage to minimally hide the formation of his manhood (I will not show the picture. Obscene much.)... really, my hats-off to this legend.

I want that attitude, that confidence. I want to wear a cone-shaped bra, and go, "So? Sue me."

HAHAA.

Really enjoyed myself at the concert.

Thanks, bi.

Love you.

A Skin-Deep Problem

2010-10-08T16:32:00.000+08:00

Oh boy, here we go again: insecurities ringing in my bones. I can hardly drag my thoughts into this room, this cubicle, this work desk, this monitor, this brain, and focus on my job, as my thoughts are floating in a world of imagination.

It is okay, the fact that they are floating by themselves, but the huge problem is, they are whispering ideas so dirty into my ears, that it is causing this shiver in my bones.

I loathe the sounds my thoughts are making, the ideas and visions they are planting, worse of all, the imagination they are helping me make; and with all these "components", so to speak, I can make, and director a long, and detailed play, entitled, "And That is How You Cheat and Lie..."

"Trust needs to be earned", apparently, and so they say. Personally, I find it such a sweeping statement; so insubstantial, that I can literally flick each alphabet with my pinky toe and watch them turn into dust particles.

Trust cannot be earned.

It can only be destroyed.

If you hid things from me, lied to me, or cheated on me, I swear I will never be able to trust you again- even if I tried to.

But then again, there will be others stoning me with "Go deal with your insecurity issues, bitch!"
Well then, here is my honest, most genuinely sincere reply to those people out there,

" It is because of you lying and cheating bastards that I am having this supposedly curable disease.

If you want me to deal with my insecurities, why don't you first try being honest.

I know you are physically unable be honest, but I am just asking you to try.

Try, and see if you can do that, before force-feeding me with phrases like, 'Go deal with your insecurity issues, bitch!'"

And then I ask myself, if I can't trust, what is love alone?

You lucky couples out there (including my parents) with no trust issues perpetually flashing at you, please treasure that. There are other ugly ducklings like myself, who will never be able to evolve into a trusting swan.

2010-10-05T17:49:00.001+08:00

My Typography class assignment.

2010-10-05T12:52:00.000+08:00

Pieces of Personality

2010-10-01T17:18:00.004+08:00

I want to be glamorous and edgy,

and I'd like to look effortless doing it.

But then again, it all depends on my mood.

I'd like to feel feminine,

but sometimes,

I can't help but slap on something wilder.

I love this look so much, I can cry.

Fedoras, simple ones, define me.

I'd love a dress that flows so beautifully, yet expresses a certain attitude.

Oh, and I'd like a mob of hair to go with it too.

Ultimately, what I love most about fashion:

You can judge me,

but you can never say I'm wrong.

Wheelchair Wonder

2010-09-27T19:46:00.000+08:00

Okay laa, so, my blog posts have been like filled with emotions, deep thoughts and all that blah... I stumbled upon an old video; here's something to chuckle about.

On the 10th of January 2010, Zac and his friend Yi-Ze (not sure how his name is spelt, anyway...) invited me to go hang out at One Utama.

We were semi-broke (at least I know I was), but we really wanted to do something fun to kill time. So then I asked myself, what would be totally fun, and cost nothing: loaning a wheelchair!

All I had to do was pass my IC to the customer service officer to loan it, and have Zac pretend he was disabled.

Okay, so maybe this is not that funny, and to some extend, very mean to those who are unfortunate, but forgive us... We're only Asian.

Okay, that didn't make sense. Whatever.

Cheers. :)

Dear Dreamer

2010-09-27T18:34:00.003+08:00

If you are reading this, oh how I wish you are.
There are so many things I want to share with you. So here it is.

Dear Dreamer,

I haven't been thinking about you, I didn't bother to. But you had to call. Why did you have to call? Those memories jolt into my thoughts momentarily; and I was unable to cease them from popping into my mind.

12th December 2009

I recalled what you taught me, about love, jealousy, and insecurities, that made me who I am today... well, sort of. Of course, I metamorphosed over the years, but to believe and experience the purity of love, has always been something so magical yet believable to me- and for that, I have to thank you.

Yes, you may have upset me the last time I saw you, and yes, you may have been insensitive and brought anger and much rage the last few times you sent me messages; but all in all, somehow, in a strikingly odd way, they would vanish each time I let time take its course. I didn't forgive you for all those things that you've said to me, but I did forget them... through time. Amazing, I tell myself.

I wished that we were still friends, but I know how it feels like to have my boyfriend being close with his first-love. Lets just say, there's nothing great to celebrate about when it comes to something like that.

But then again, what is wrong with wishing.

I wish that I could call you any time when I have to complain, because you absorb my complains so well and make me feel better after that.
I wish that I could hear your lame jokes again, as I would chuckle and tell you that you're lame.
I wish that I could be a sounding board and help you deal with your problems.

I miss you old friend. And I still can't believe I'm saying that.

Take care, and study well.

Thus, pushing you into a pool of repetition

2010-09-24T02:02:00.011+08:00

If you keep asking yourself the same question over and over again, it becomes boring and tasteless; then you shift your thoughts elsewhere, hoping to get out of thinking. You want to move on, and you want to be liberated from this skin that dreads you.

But, you know it comes back. Thus, pushing you into a pool of repetition.

What is it, really? A cord, a hook? What is it that clings and squeezes a part of our memory that cause us to think and think and think of the same question? What is it that is forcing a concrete wall against us from moving on and away from that question?

How do we really move on from something? How do we move on from a memory?

Hard liquor seems to be a solution to the equation for some mammals. But, what if you want that thought, that memory, to be away from you, permanently?

A memory lives because of its vividness; and therefore, the smell, the touch, and the colours, all seem so fresh when the memory is ripped opened.

When the memory is ripped opened, whatever the feelings, caused by the smell, the touch, and the colours, blasts into your soul.

Thus, pushing you into a pool of repetition.

So, really, how do we ever move on?
~~Pretend that you've moved on, so that, at least, people around you think you did. The more you pretend, the more you become.~~

2010-09-17T17:56:00.002+08:00

taken on: 21st of December, 2009

I love that weird looking goo-goo eyed human being on the right.
Oh gosh, it's been awhile.
Ain't it?

I'd like to glow in the dark.

2010-09-12T02:28:00.004+08:00

And be different, and weird:

When only a handful could appreciate,

And that handful would be enough.

Others would make me seem lonely,

but being alone does not make me lonely now, does it?

I want to feel beautiful

in a way that nobody should understand.

where I watch myself, glowing aimlessly,

in a dark silent night.

A man with a poem

2010-08-26T04:41:00.007+08:00

Still water runs deep, they said; before they've met him.

Although, a quiet man, but his cover, is exactly who he is.

Ever-accepting, who rarely complained; who turned hardships into a way of life, and marched with the soldiers.

He was a loving man:

to his family, and families.

He was a loyal man:

to his one and only one wife, as he held her hand until the very end.

A man who loved his daughter the way he loved his heart.

He made her laugh, and cry; and taught her to love animals;

and he had never punish her even when she caused troubles.

He was a loving grandfather, who bought sweets and toys for us.

My brother would play soccer with him, with ball made out of papers;

for me, he bought an ice-cream, and the day would be filled with laughters.

He never feared death, for the soldier in him still boiled.

But, there were things he didn't like:

the heat from a Malaysian sun, a bowl of rice for lunch, and sometimes, a nosy neighbor.

You would only hear him mention them once and once was enough,

and then he turns around and walk, walk towards acceptance.

The man was a poem, who could rhyme with everything.

He was a living Tao, following where life took him;

Awake for ninety years, until his body and heart, and mind was ready...

And this morning he decided to leave, far, far, away from this city.

Still water runs deep, they said; yes, that was before they met my grandfather.

I love you very much:

And those memories we all had with you, will always be remembered.

Holiday is Work

2010-08-24T15:04:00.003+08:00

Okay, yes, I haven't been blogging. I actually have a life, well erm... had a life (college started, blueh). So, dear Mr. Samuel Chew dunno-dunno, author of Blogging is a Sin, I'm not so dumb dumb after all! :) :)

Anyhoozer, lets talk a little about my life now; after all, it's still my own personal blog.

The one month holiday I cotton to so much, has finally come to a halt. Work consumed 60% of the time, 30% was spent on my boyfie (sounds like some sort of food, I know), 5% on sleeping, 5% on miscellaneous.

As you have already guessed, I barely had much sleep. So, I was pretty grumpy and annoyed most of the time.

My definition of work is, anything that keeps me awake from sleeping, e.g. jobs, chores, chores, procrastination, meeting with people, and etc. etc. etc. I committed to a few jobs during the break. A talent for a corporate video was one of them, and that job landed me fast, good money. This was what I had to do:

Wake up at 8 am (that almost took my soul away).
Boyfie picks me up and sends me to the destination, IJM building.
Breakfast was sponsored. So, I ate. Alot.
Rush to the third floor, and had hair and make-up done. End result: I looked like a tranny geisha, as the make-up artist had my face in multiple layers of foundation and powder. I almost gaged.
Make friends with other talents.
Sit on some smelly Toyata Unser and head to cyberjaya.
Put on graduation gown. (It made me look like a really short Harry Potter, oh wait, Harry Potter is short.)
Prepare for the shoot while director brief me and the other talents.
"Rolling... and action!!"
Smile.
Laugh.
Alot.
Fake enthusiastic smile!
Fake more energy.
Drink some water.
"Rolling... and action!!"
FAKE FAKE FAKE energy, smile, laugh.

Four hours later, I was 400 bucks richer.

About a few weeks after the shoot, I got another call: to be a talent for another corporate video. But this time, I pulled Ian along for the shoot, and all we had to do was act like a couple who are really happy shoppers at Berjaya Times Square. No problem for us. :)

That was my second job. Then, I decided to get a proper part-time job, and that is: a telemarketer.

The company (will remain anonymous for the rest of this post) is relatively new. The director of this company (my boss) IS AWESOME!! It pays well and it's rather flexible, which is great as I still have to return to college *sulks*. Best of all... Ian's working with me!! :)

Okay, so maybe this post is rather boring. I know. I'm sorry if you happen to read this. I'll continue in the next post, need to head to class now.

Btw, I've written a few new songs... will upload it really soon. Oh Oh OH! And I directed another music video for one of my songs entitled "Valentines", with the help of my best friend, Christine, her funny boyfriend, and my irritating Ian. :)

That's all. Go back to your life now.

:)

Cheers!

2010-08-15T14:17:00.005+08:00

I loathe having to hear your pathetic voice, telling me things so superficial.

Rage consumes me a minute later, and I find myself, destroying a shirt you left at my place.

Get away from me. Get the fuck away from me.

I wonder what changed.

2010-08-04T01:22:00.001+08:00

I think I look different. Oh, wait, I feel different.

Oh wait, I gained weight. Oh no no no, it's not.

What is it.

Steps to Inception

2010-08-03T02:43:00.006+08:00

I watched Inception, twice. One of the best movies I've ever invested my time and concentration on. Every nanosecond of the movie has it's significant meaning to it; and the storyline is multi-layered. The complexity of this movie is brill, I say. Brill. Just brill.

Of course, you would need to bring the right people to watch the movie with you. If I brought my dad with me, I would have to be explaining each scene for the first half an hour, and literally wanting to choke my dad to death after that. No kidding.

My dad is not a listener. Pick a listener, whose willing to shut up, and listen to details. Choose wisely. The movie will not just be completely ruined, it'll force you to commit homicide.

So, after picking the right partner(s), it's time to pick the right snack for the movie. Yes, I'm sure you're wondering why SNACKS? The right snack is an important component to enjoying the movie. Really. Don't buy chips, or crackers, or anything that sound like your eating screws when you chew. Here's the reason why: The loudness of the chewing "noise" would interfere with your ability to effectively listen to the conversations made by Cobb, Ariadne, Arthur, Eames, Saito, Yusuf, Robert Ficher, and the ever-annoying, self-repeating, eerie-looking but nevertheless has a sexy figure, Mal.

I bought fried fishballs to bring into the movie. WHO THE HELL CARES IF THE PERSON(S) SITTING ADJACENT TO ME IS DISTURBED BY THE STRONG AROMA EMITTED BY THE FISHBALLS? Screw them, I want to enjoy my movie. With that said, fried fishballs are good snacks for Inception; And GSC offers awesome fried fishballs. Try it, to believe it.

Okay, with your snack and partner(s) ready, time to enter the cinema ON TIME. If you're late by 15 minutes, you've actually destroyed 69.8% of the movie for yourself. So, congratulations. You've wasted money on the couple seats and the snacks, your time, and your partner(s) time. What is left to do now, is sit back and make out with your significant other(s) for the rest of the movie. I'm kidding.

It's okay to be late. You'd just have a tougher time trying to understand the depth of the plot. Either way, understanding the movie is still possible, unless you're stupid.

I'm kidding.

I hope you enjoyed or going to enjoy the movie as much as I did. Cheers.

Legen... $$$... dary!!

2010-07-31T00:23:00.004+08:00

The cv shoot we had today was awesome. I can't wait until the next time we're cast for another project together...

and hopefully, that would mean, more

$$$$$$$$$

Right? Right?

That would be

legen... wait for it... dary!

Minus the part where you annoyed me so much,

that I figuratively felt like ripping your

head off. I mean it. OFF!

love you.

Sigh.

2010-07-29T04:09:00.003+08:00

I HATE INTERVIEWS.

I HATE WAKING UP FOR JOB INTERVIEWS.

I HATE TO DO ANYTHING THAT HAS AN ASSOCIATION WITH MEETING UP WITH SOME SUPERIOR BEING, WHOSE JOB IS TO SCRUTINIZE ME;

AND, TO ADD TO THAT, I HATE HAVING TO DRESS FORMALLY AND PROFESSIONALLY,

AND SIT AND TALK AND BREATH IN THAT OH-SO-PROFESSIONAL MANNER; OH AND NOT TO MENTION, I HATE HAVING TO NOT BE MY CURSE-ALL-THE-TIME SELF.

I have to smile and say all the right things that he/she wants to hear.

Yes,

I (really) HATE INTERVIEWS.

Lights, Camera, and EMOtion!

2010-07-28T02:11:00.004+08:00

I'm goth.

I think.

HAHAAA!

I had fun today, bi.

I'm not sure if I'm able to decide.

Well, at least I've got a whole month

to think about it.

When something means nothing.

2010-07-26T00:17:00.005+08:00

I never asked for too much,

for I know how much I was worth.

Grateful for just a touch,

and then I watch you leave this measured girth.

Your embrace was like a song,

The taste of wine I'll never forget.

A place called home where I'll always belong,

Just like how it was with my very own layette.

But just as time changes everything,

Seasons, and people would.

Then how could we live tattling,

About what is real in the talmud.

Oh, I'm still fighting the past,

and everything else it has to offer.

The pain continues to recast,

each time unwilling to seek buffer.

What is right, I know no more,

Nor, do I know what's for the better.

This evening I watched the downpour,

As I know, some memories will not drown in a fissure.

My room is a box of tablets filled with memories,

Just so you know.

Back to reality

2010-07-23T00:40:00.006+08:00

Because walking and talking is so much more fun.

One more day. Just one more freaking day.

2010-07-22T23:53:00.004+08:00

Can't wait. Need a break.

People peep

2010-07-22T02:24:00.003+08:00

Peeping is mysterious, exhausting, naughty, and annoying.

But we still do it, anyway.

And this Friday, I'll be peeping during Elementary Stats.

Joseph. YOU, sit beside me!

Two more days.

2010-07-21T22:48:00.003+08:00

I need a vacation so badly, I'd kill.

I just have to endure two more days.

Effective listening tomorrow,

and Elementary Stats the day after tomorrow.

AND I'M DONE!!!

Don't think- too much.

2010-07-21T02:40:00.003+08:00

You question and then you think; Until your thoughts turn into a rotting pit. Then wrinkles present, and grey strands of hair.

Unknowingly, you are 20 years older.

Oh, and 20 years older does not mean you'll be 20 times richer.

Just a reminder. :)

The Day Elementary Statistics Chewed on My Brain.

2010-07-20T01:47:00.005+08:00

Math is killing each living cell out of me.

E.g. : Point estimate, best estimate of the population mean, specific interval estimate of a parameter otherwise known as confidence interval... yaaa yaaa yuuu yuuuu... etc. etc. etc.

-Letter to God-

Dear God,

Math Matters

I've tried really hard- so hard that my body is mimicking the numerical number 9. Please forgive me for all the sins I've committed and please do, magically, miraculously, bless me with an A.

Bestow upon me with the knowledge of Elementary Statistics that Mr. BK Sia tried to teach me.

Or perhaps my brain is not fated or destined to keep that glorious knowledge of Elementary Statistics... then, dear God, do cover Mr. BK Sia's eyes, and direct his hand, that's marking my examination paper, in a motion that goes like this:

for the rest of my examination paper.

Thank so very much God. Have a great day.

With much love, hope, and prayers,

Jenn Chia Yen-Yi

Yea. If that's a real letter, God would have had a good laugh, looked down on earth at me, and would laugh some more. So much that rain would pour.

Sorry, I'm not making sense. Elementary Statistics facts are chewing my brain away.

If ELEMENTARY statistics is already giving me problems as fat as the Sun, I wonder what advanced statistics would be like?

Oh, I know.

Advanced statistics would be like

"Oh to hell with it. Why do I bother to live?"

Blah. Got to go get some more education now which means "study" in sarcasm language. Sigh and Taaa!

I'm even fantasizing about food.

2010-07-19T01:07:00.004+08:00

I want to eat. I'm hungry.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Surprise?

2010-07-15T23:47:00.002+08:00

I'm going to spend ALL my money on you.

I'll work during the holidays.

I'll stop drinking Java Chips.

I'll start saving on foods.

I'll berjimat-cermat on things.

I'll quit giving money to charities.

and

I'll work out on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

(Cause I'm getting fat these days.)

Whatever it is,

More money it is.

Your birthday, a surprise.

Just a few more months.

Literally.

What I know about me. That you don't.

2010-07-15T01:14:00.002+08:00

I wish I'm the girl who's always able to smile and be merry all the time. I hate thinking. Thinking too damn much that is.

Those issues in my life is but a pile of mud, they never get resolved, or in this case, dissolved.

Maybe that is the reason why I find the need to make others laugh at my silliness and stupidity. Maybe that is the reason why I love performing. I love acting. Impersonating others. Talking in some weird Indian accent, Jamaican accent, typical Chinese accent...

So that others would not know who I am. You can call it cliche, if you want. I guess, time after time, I grew to feel protected this way.

Acting is a way for me to express who I am not. Heck, that is what acting is anyway.

And when others get tickled at what I have to offer, I feel a sense of acceptance. I feel accepted. How pathetic is that? But I'm happy, just the way it is. I was not born this way, but I've been mold into this block of creation. Yes, I am happy just the way things are.

I remembered once, I thought I met a really good friend who I tried to always be there for her. I also recalled, that I constantly bombarded her with "I wish others would see me as who I am; accept me for who I am."

Then one day, she announces, "Jenn wants others to accept her for who she is, but I, personally, don't."

Pretty painful to hear, but then again, at least it's realistic- I went home that day, confused as ever, and cried like a 10-month-old infant.

Crying solves nothing, I learnt. Others would perceive you as weak, emotional, overtly sensitive...

But crying is all I know, and crying is the only time I have the guts to throw all those masks away.

I don't hope for any change. I just want to learn to accept things as they are.

Because I know, some broken glasses, were meant to break.

There is no manual.

2010-07-13T12:19:00.002+08:00

There's a switch that controls everyone.

And mine is offed.

To turn it back on, please refer to manual.

Oh, no really.

Infatuation has an expiry date.

2010-07-07T01:31:00.004+08:00

I see your face once more,

Oh, that feeling, I grabbed it and then I let it pour.

A pinch of grudge falls like cooking salt.

Oh... oh wait!!

I see something.

A picture that tells a meaning.

You're with another girl.

Hmmm, that girl...

Oh wait, I see your face again

With that haircut and those weird small eyes, too small to be sane

I see your smile and dark ugly skin

I see your ugly top and that ugly, ugly, chin

Oh okay, I don't care any.

Because all I see is ugly.

When you're infatuated, everything seems worthy.

*chortles*

And when it's gone and done, and your self-esteem is deflated, everything seems ugly.

Weird but true.

True but feared.

Feared but thankful.

Thankful but jaded.

Jaded but realistic.

Realistic but battered.

Battered but polished,

Polished and learned.

And here is what it means:

It is weird but true, that infatuation turns your heart into a boiling pot; and after a few weeks, your heart begins to vaporise into thin air for (s)he just left you there. Then, you become so numb that you realize that the fact that (s)he left you is true but you had fear in you.

Another week passed, and loneliness you still feared but you're thankful that the infatuation ended. Yes, you are thankful but jaded at the same time. Jaded about the concept of "love".

"Yes, I'm jaded but at least I'm realistic," you say.

"Yes, you're realistic, but I'm sure you're battered up inside," I'd reply.

You let another week pass, and then another month fly;

and suddenly you start to painfully cry.

Your mum tells you, "Oh, yes emotionally you're battered, but polished as well, don't you think?"

Another few days danced around you, and you can finally have the courage to tell yourself,

"Yes, I'm polished and

I've learned that infatuation has an expiry date."

2010-07-06T20:03:00.002+08:00

As if I don't know who you are.

Grow up, would you?

I'm a "rebel" but I know what love really is to me.

2010-07-05T04:05:00.009+08:00

When I'm ready to do something, nothing can stop me.

(Not even the law: I vandalized once. Such a rebel, I know.)

So, I decided to give relationship another try.

Yes, yes, I hear people telling me,

"Oh, you crazy woman. You're going to turn into an insecure bitch again!"

"Haiyaa, it won't last wannn laa!"

"So, if you want to go clubbing, how? You think he will let you go?"

"Where is the free-spirited person I know who swore never to take love that seriously again few months ago????? What? Die already ar?"

"Come on! Stop dreaming. You're going to hit the wall."

"What is the point of you dating if you know (and we know) that you're going to let him screw it up and tear you down again?"

"Oi, don't la wei."

Here's my answer to all of you.

"FUCK YOU. I'm doing this."

Oh yes, I'm such a rebel, I used the word "fuck" in capslock. Not that I meant it physically or literally, it's just an expression, and that's how I like to call it: an expression.

Yes, I've dated many jerks who tore my beating heart out and stabbed it with a kitchen knife; but it is also true, that I've had many great memories with them. I guess what I'm trying to say is, the good and bad of people is not, and has nothing to do with love. The good and bad of people is because of the good and bad of people. Love stays pure and beautiful and perfect as ever.

Why blame it on love, when it is the people who are imperfect?

I know for a fact that I use to always blame it on love when things don't work out.

I ask myself,

"Why did I fall in love with that stupid ass face?"

"Why did I let myself experience love?"
"Why find love when music is so much more loyal to me?"

"Love makes me vulnerable. Why should I fall in love when I can have something casual and fun?"

And then I start telling myself,

"FUCK (hahaa, capslock again.) love, I'm done with it."

You know how the universe answered me back?

"FUCK IT. You're going to fall in love."

And I did. And I am.

I'm not perfect. I rebel perfection.

But, I also rebel jaded concepts about love. Because, love to me, is not an object, but a medium for two parties to feel something incredible and memorable for each other.

I'm giving this a shot.

If you screw it up, I'm going to bash you up,

and throw you into a pool of feces.

Love you.

2010-07-03T23:41:00.002+08:00

I just feel like crying and tearing my heart out.

Oh wait, I already did.

I feel that if I had:

2010-07-02T03:15:00.007+08:00

To have to force

I'd rather be tossed.

To care

I'd rather stare.

To want attention

I'd rather find another satisfaction.

To bare bottled up feelings

I'd rather pour them into sinks.

To seek for support

To another place I'd rather deport.

You asked me how much I love you.

2010-06-30T23:57:00.004+08:00

I love you more than I love Java Chips.

I love you more than you love Java Chips.

I love you more than I love beating you at Tekken 5.

I love you more than you love wearing your jacket in that "particular" way.

Now, I wonder if you'd do a write-up on Honda Boon Siew.

Honda Boon Siew. Ex5 Dream.

Hmm... we'll see.

Feeling a little philosophical.

2010-06-29T01:13:00.008+08:00

Sometimes, I drive myself up the wall by making myself answer my own little mind-boggling questions.

Is thinking enough, or enough of thinking is?

Today, was one of those days.

"When I don't look at you as you confront me;

you think I'm hiding my emotions.

Well, here's a fact... ready?

I'm actually, thinking

that if I am my

emotions."

Well, what can I say, who I am is only a perception you made your mind agree with you about me to be.

By the way, I only sleep at two, and not when my body tells me to.

A key makes it all perfect.

2010-06-28T01:43:00.002+08:00

You make me laugh.

It's the craziest, most special gift of all.

I live

to love

and laugh.

You're the reason.

What do I think about business?

2010-06-26T15:47:00.003+08:00

I'm not cut out, or born to do business.

My brain does not function that way.

Or if I want to be a little more positive about myself, I'd say,

"I'm just too nice and gullible to be manipulative.

And I don't know words that are manipulative enough anyway."

I Regret.

2010-06-26T15:17:00.003+08:00

What I can't remember,

is usually what I want to forget.

Now, where's my stapler?

I want to pin things down, before I start stuffing unwanted memories into a box, labelled, I REGRET.

Taking a break.

2010-06-24T13:32:00.003+08:00

I've been depressed.

I'm still a teenager because nineteen ends with a teen.

I think I'm going take a break. Bye bye world.

Old photographs are made of gold

2010-06-22T20:29:00.004+08:00

Look what I found. :)

Lets go Modestos or Rakuzen again. One day. When I'm not as broke.

AND IT'S MY TURN TO TREAT.

Old photographs are made of gold.

They are the foundation for better shots to be taken in the future, along with better memories.

By the way.

2010-06-19T02:15:00.003+08:00

Oh yea, I forgot.

You are most adorable when I find you helplessly blur.

Especially, when I have to sort of "save" you.

Of course, I'll laugh a little (or get irritated) first, and THEN only come save you.

It was hell of all hells.

2010-06-19T01:47:00.003+08:00

And there you go again.

Watching as the sound of those footsteps

blur in my vision.

The "squid-story", the "flaccid-balloon story", the "form 2 memory", ETC. ETC.

My soul sort of puked a little.

I'm sure yours did too. And by the look in your face, I suppose it's not only your soul that has much to puke... there's also *censored, too disturbing to continue.*

I'm sorry. No more such discussions.

PROMISE.

But what really made me realize what I'm doing is right, is when I imagined how much you had to go through, and how much you just (a few moments ago) went through...

"And boy, it was lower than hell. It's like the hell of all hells."

I'm done being blind.

is2y.

BunchaLies

2010-06-16T10:29:00.003+08:00

It humors me how lies can speak so believably,

... and yet, comforting.

"But it doesn't matter, because nobody really listens."

Post-It notes

2010-06-14T00:22:00.004+08:00

It is harder to watch you leave than it is to watch you go;

You might not know, but those memories are just beginning to grow.

Not on the back of my head, like where they used to be;

They're Post-It notes on my two front teeth.

Running on treadmills were never that fun.

Having breakfast and coffee multiplied 'fun' to a ton.

Watched, as you fell asleep while I was on Facebook,

And when all the drool dried up, a nice cool swim we took.

Guitar was far sexier when plucked by Jack,

Dear Hunter deserves a nice, kinky smack.

Romance D'amour was what you first discovered,

It was also the first you gloriously mastered.

HIMYM, could be a story of HIMMI.

But the cliche You would spoil the moment.

And then I'll laugh and watch as you pout,

Little do you know, I love them more than I love Guinness Stout.

Suddenly, I'm thinking about you,

The truth and words that I thought were untrue.

And then you'd call Shaun,

But I'll eventually make you drop the phone.

Hello.

2010-06-13T01:51:00.001+08:00

I love you.

Okaythanksbye.

Oh, what the hell. :)

2010-06-06T13:06:00.001+08:00

It feels like family, now that you're here.

Oh, what the hell.

COME HERE!

But, now it's nothing but a dull canvas

2010-06-06T11:02:00.004+08:00

I thought I saw what I wanted to see, but guess what, it became something that was meant for me to see.

There's no denial, that I took away something so beautiful to you. Something, that even you, have now forgotten what it feels like having it.

And that is youth.

"Tonight we drink to youth and holding fast to truth. Don't want to lose what I had as a boy,"

"Love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt,"

"Sometimes when I'm alone, I wonder. Is there a spell that I am under,"

Incubus, Love Hurts.

Why don't we turn something dull and black, to something a little more vibrant.

Out, Sick today.

2010-06-04T22:51:00.002+08:00

I'm like a cornrow.

Twisted, stuck, barely able to breath.

Yeap, it's confirmed,

I'm sick again.

Better left unexplained.

2010-06-03T01:20:00.004+08:00

Dear waiter,

So far, yet so near.

So dim, yet still so clear.

Don't you stop to wonder,

For time is not yours to ponder.

So beautiful, yet so painful,

So dark, yet still so tasteful.

Give up everything you're about to do,

Watch as your truths and lies turn into glue.

You are happy.

But you keep complaining, seemingly.

Great.

I wonder if it's fate.

Love,

Forgiver.

She thinks I'm ready to walk away. I suppose.

2010-05-18T13:20:00.002+08:00

If she doesn't care anymore,

that means she thinks you're ready to grow up.

That's how I'd like to think of it.

Then, I'll walk away with my feelings.

Just like how it was when I was 15.

Missing the Irritating You.

2010-05-16T12:56:00.003+08:00

Although you know:

especially me;

but sometimes, you remind me of this:

And then I'll smile...and

I miss you...