chaka chaka

so i turned a year older some time last week. it always seems a little preposterous that this day is supposed to be some climax/culmination of a whole year’s worth of personal and professional growth. i didn’t feel particularly grown-up last week as compared to the previous 364 days. and after my midnight antics, i felt anything but wiser. :p

i think 2008 was awesome. new friends. new job. new horizons and the like. my life is quiet and boring for the most part, and i like it that way seeing as how i’m no longer the hard-nosed evil bitch (if i ever was, thanks to random chinese whispers).

i like growing up. strangely enough i was always hankering to be “grown up”.

when i was 15, i thought ma should lighten up on her cufew because i was old enough. at 18 i wanted to move out and live life without parental restrictions because i was mature enough. i looked down my nose at 19-year-old “kids” when i graduated from college. i was such a child i imagined i was older, better, smarter, wiser than everyone else. it’s a trend that will live on; a belief that living a couple of decades entitles young ‘uns to faux world-weariness and to spout badly-written diatribes about how jaded and cynical life has made them.

me, i’ve realised how much more there is for me to experience (and if i’m lucky, to learn). i haven’t eaten enough salt to whine about how bad life is and how it’s gotten me down.

i’m 25 now and i’m still just a kid. a label that’s hopefully still good for a long time more. like you said, age is just a number, right, sayang? xxx

memories are cheap novellas; simultaneously aspiring and failing. the past is a sterile, cold thing that you can never hope to immerse yourself in.

you recite a second, third, fourth-hand account of an event you attended in another lifetime. continue on and soon your nose is growing, a year becomes an eon and you’re muttering facts that may as well be geographical trivia or a little known treatise on an unproven law of physics for all the warmth you show it.be that as it may, time is still a-ticking. if the law of gravity is one day disproven, will it then cease to apply to us?
a stream of recollections is triggered by an off-key note of your favourite song; it is the clichéd flame that ignites and burns bright. from starlight to ashes on your tongue. new old meaning infuses the mind’s dry, humourless fabrications, suddenly reconstructing the moment you fell in love. and out again. music rekindles that delicious pain which we also knew – but never acknowledged – as pleasure.

try as you may, you’ll never recall a one true memory we shared unless struck by a song you claimed as ours, when it was a little too late.

fear not, tomorrow brings a new day to cry, a new lifetime to lie.

i really really really need some retail therapy.

and not the surfing-from-home-ogling-everything type.

i need some clothing which isn’t so damn typically me.

sayang, can we go shopping soon? :(

am at the office - my last 24-hour camping trip with copious amounts of nicotine and coke (the cola), last minute changes, and once again not fulfilling my role as a writer but as official bates flasher.

it’s different this time around. of course. janet wasn’t here stomping her feet or channeling nervous energy to better use hopping around the office. polly wasn’t here hugging her (now smelly) pillow to her chest, nodding off at her desk or chain-smoking ciggies with me while we recharge on gossip and giggles.

“servicing power”. that does send little waves of fear rippling through me. (do you tuck the periods in, or leave ‘em out? that is the question.)

or it would if i were not numbed to physical sensation at this moment.

am just biding my time. the presso (i love that word, i think it’s just awesomely adorable) is at 2:30pm and i’m here lending the team my amazing moral support. and typing this here blog post.

have been following way too much of the US presidential campaigns for my own good. jt is ambivalent at best when i’m doing my god-awful impersonation of tina fey’s impersonation of palin. my last real experience with american politics was in college, and i really despised it. which is not to say my feelings for it now have changed. probably reacting in a fashion that typically me. read news. watch videos. digg stories. EXCITED.

i’m feeling a bit high and drowsy now, but unsurprisingly wrote better spur-of-the-moment lines in the past few hours than i did over the week. after that stretch spending many a  3am churning out tv script after tv script, i’m convinced that i run on full when i run on empty. does that make sense?

am i making sense?

the tank’s almost empty and i’m spent. passed ‘hyper’ a while back. daft punk’s “human after all” invaded my head with catchy beats and forced me with its catchy refrain to dance, dance, wench!

i miss writing junk. thoughts. notes. exercises. short stories. it’s as if my literary well has run dry (my clichés though, are alive and doing fine, thanks). but then again, it was probably for the best to stop my scribbles and come back to review them objectively. after all, it’s nothing i’ve shared with people and that says a lot of my subconcious reasonings. i doubt you’d keep literary work - a proclamation of your own genius - from the world if you really believed in its inherent standard. and retrospect, i believe, is the best eye-opener one could ask for short of a slap in the face.

i’m babbling. just typing out everything that’s going through my mind now. it’s 10:25am according to the clock on my work pc, which i’ve just realised i’ve never named. i have little time left to christen it, but should i bother? this is the point when the sentient cpu springs into action, deleting my post and erasing all my files (and potential recyclables) with a mirthless chuckle.

i need to sleep.

nintendo ds lite shopping with my favourite fashionista this saturday. oh, and mister a too la. i can’t wait. :)

i’ve done it.

and so the countdown begins. 55 days to self-destruction.

xxx

i decided on boundaries the moment i locked down on some random domain name under which to host these mou liu posts. not very meaningful ones at that, i’ll be the first to agree. but satisfying to a certain degree.

no more real personal posts.

sure there can be long rambling emotional outbursts with no clear direction. they still linger within the borders of being somewhat acceptable.

not being anonymous (as khoo choo ki of femes minishorts.net already pointed out where i work - supposedly to scare me into a forced admission of her delusions of fame. bitch, puuuuuhlease.) means the likelihood of being subjected to trolls is as certain as having the sun rise the next day.

getting trolled is actually preferable to people trying (and on one occasion succeeding) to hax0r my personal accounts.

my facebook account fell prey to someone (whose identity i have reasonable suspicions about) who copied all my messages and sent them to related parties. to which i now say, HA? WHAT? it was damn dull stuff. like, extremely mundane exchanges, possibly about the weather, sometimes about scrabulous.

what the hell, people?

so, ridicule my clothes. i love them.
criticize my hair. i hearts my houdini stylist.
make fun of my drunken escapades. i enjoyed them.

you shall have nothing else to fuel the gossip. HA!

it’s been almost 2 years, but sometimes it’s as if i never managed to get past the third step.

i’ve already brushed off the many instances of denial.

i’m grateful that i still remember. while other ‘important’ memories have been relegated into overly-simplistic bite-sized pieces, you still live in my head.

and sometimes, i like to imagine, by my side.

is this not part of the process?
i feel guilty being happy.
guilty that there are single passing moments when you do not cross my mind.
as the periods of your silence stretch longer and longer as time passes.

i heard your voice again yesterday as i listened to our song. it’s comforting to pretend that, when i least expect it, our paths may accidentally cross again.

i wonder when my writing became so sterile and boring. i blame it all on all the brain-numbing btl items i’ve ever had the bad luck to write for. or maybe it’s simply because this is so forced. the domain purchase has been made so the only logical thing is to fill it up.

probably just need some time to get over this “stage fright.”