Wednesday, 13 January 2016

23

Granted, #23 Emre Can of Liverpool just turned 22 yesterday.

But I just turned 23 today. And while I no longer hold regards to my birthday, I'm besotted by my dependence towards my family.

I'm still not financially independent, unemployed, and not accomplished.

Plus, I've not been blogging lately simply because there's nothing new/noteworthy to talk about. Well, maybe besides this:





Yep. Spent two nights in Port Dickson, courtesy of Kevin and his mom, who is a shareholder there, thus getting free accommodation annually.

posted from Bloggeroid

Thursday, 7 January 2016

Re-read

Yep. Spent the past 30 minutes just scrolling through my soul-searches in the form of old blog posts.

Noteworthy ones for the current state of Fang include the third-to-last paragraph on this:

http://bladehunta93fang.blogspot.my/2012/08/departure.html

Plus, the meh-ish writings from this post:

http://bladehunta93fang.blogspot.my/2012/06/notion-continuation.html

Anyway, I guess that's my highlight reel. Also, Jumpstreet a week back? Super tiring, with a mixture of failed flips into the foam pit, botched neck-breaking off the high performance trampoline, and intense dodgeball games.
posted from Bloggeroid

Monday, 4 January 2016

Lily

I'll try to write my best here, because this post deserves nothing short of near-perfection.  Plus, I cheated by taking some writing tips.

This is not about the flower of which carries her name.  This is about Lily Isaac, the woman I love.

I ran down the stairs of my new/old house, and proceeded to slouch into one of the the rattan chairs in the living room.  It creaked from the strain of my weight on its half-broken frame.  The construction workers still sawed, hammered, and buffed their way through the kitchen segment.  

"You got down here quick" quipped mama as she stared at her laptop, not breaking eye contact.

"Had no choice.  Papa wanted me here quick.  Had to settle for a half-poop session too."

Mama rolled her eyes.  "Forget about it".

"You asked".

I shifted my attention elsewhere, peering outside the house.  To my surprise, I saw her.  It was Lily.

How she still looked dashing was beyond me (plus the four-year absence in between when I was away from home).  Her beautiful sarees were swapped with a plaid shirt and jeans, but she was still the same lady I had known for all my life.

Her hands cupped by face.  I usually don't like being touched in the face (ask my sister some few days back), but somehow, I was okay with it this time.  She kissed my cheek and I hugged her tight.  It was odd to so much affection to someone, having not seen them for so many years.

"So have you been a mama's boy, or papa's?".  She planted her palm on my chest.

I assumed this was with regards to my return.  "A little bit of both", I smiled. That answer was surprisingly diplomatic.

"You two have raised him well." as she turned to face my parents.  You could still hear the whir of power tools from the kitchen.

"Got a job?" she asked, as her eyes waited in great anticipation.

"Nope.  Still waiting for responses"

"Be patient.  It took Ruben a year before he got his job.  He's doing very well now.  I'll pray for you to be the same.  I should get going now.  You take care".

We escorted her to the door.

"Maybe next time you should come by my place", she smiled.

"I will" reciprocating a smile.

And she left, without looking back.

It was definitely welcoming to see Lily again.

Well, Lily to you. Nextdoor neighbor Aunty Lily to me.

Television - You Won't

Friday, 1 January 2016

New



So... new year happened and now it's 2016.

I couldn't care less.  

Why are we to place so much importance in a new year, when life still goes on?

Borrowing this quote from this TED Talk regarding "lollipop moments", why are we so engrossed in celebrating one's birthday when all you have to do was survive for 365.25 days?  I think the same sentiments apply to a new year.

We shouldn't be going bonkers over a new year's resolution as change is constant.

Also, Cafe 32 is almost done with renovations so we've moved into Studio 46 (now called The Office since by my dad, since he made it into an office space instead of a house) for the time being.  My dad had to call a holiday so that the workers can vacate the premises.

When We Were Young - Adele

Sunday, 27 December 2015

Time

*I initially wrote this intending to be a poem, but it sounded too cheesy.*

I just saw your smile, one more time, through a sheet of filaments and electricity.

My heart sinks, a tad, but still noticeable.  Yes, as much as I'd like to mute the pain.

Should I feel less? Want less? Know less? Care less?  No.  

That would just invalidate myself.

It is plain absurdity to feel so much affinity, that it is borderline fabricated as it is idyllic.  

I just need time to wrangle free of these thoughts and emotions.  I need to fall back to my grounded state, from love to friendship.

I need to just be a friend again.

Sleeping At Last - Masquerade

Hills

Hey!  Sorry for the lack of posts.  I've been out and about visiting relatives and just got back from a week of travelling between KL, Seremban, and Ipoh to visit the fam.  

I'll try to keep this space updated, however I will be moving back into Cafe 32 this week so it's gonna be hectic.  Here's one that I wrote when I was in Seremban, some 4,5 days ago.

I was bored.  Hours of playing video games and listening to my grandmother’s constant ramblings has finally grown stale.  My sister, as annoying as I find her, was unavailable to talk to as she was napping to nurse a growing illness of some sort.  There was no one else around, as I know nobody in my hometown of Seremban.

I needed to get out of the house.

But I’ve never been around Seremban on my own, plus there is no car for me to use.  So I decided to take a run around the neighborhood.  The problem was that I the housing area of Bukit Rasah was seldom covered.  Never has there been a need to map out these streets, until today.

Maybe I wanted to get lost, to rediscover a familiar setting.  So I did.
I laced up my yet-to-be-broken-in running shoes, prepped my Spotify playlist, and embrace the low-rumble of a remote thundercloud.  I figured if I needed any added motivation to run, rain would be it. 

And then I started.  Ran into a few dead ends, and looped around the hill twice.  Before I knew it, I ran far enough that I really felt lost.  The sun was searing into my cheeks, while rolling dark clouds slowly creeped over at the distance. 

I was alone.

That was a good thing.  I needed the time and space to think, to get away from my family.  So often did I have this… commodity when I was studying abroad that, the need for personal space was easily overlooked until my return.
Sure, there were times that the hidden (but ever-present!) band of wild monkeys or stray dogs got me peering over my shoulder more times than an innocent person should do.  Passing by the foliage of dense canopic overgrowth and banana trees had me sneak by, as to not alert anything (if any) living nearby.
By now, my calves were screaming from the constant incline and decline of my impromptu adventure.  And after circling the inner circle of the neighborhood for a good 25 minutes, I decided to call it a day.

I walked back home heavily breathing, drenched in sweat, muscles near-cramping, with a newfound appreciation for the housing area while I’ve took for granted: the old bungalows of over 50 years, to the newly built complexes of recent years.

Maybe I wanted to get lost, so I can find myself again, in an old place.  This time, as an adult with the world ahead of him.


Side note: Having access to exclusively Chinese shows really makes me appreciate the choreography put into any martial arts movie.

#88 - Lo-Fang

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Parents

They want the best for you, they give you shit if you don't perform as expected.

Can I blame them?  For now.  Until I learn to become a parent myself.

Why, do you ask of this out-of-nowhere rant?  Because me meeting the undercarriage of the proverbial bus came out of the blue as well, a la parental nagging.

Age is but a number, but FUCK!  I don't feel like a 22-year old.  Perhaps my notion of moving out from my parents once I return is a figment of US culture that I've carried back with me, and many kids still live with their parents in an Eastern culture as it is financially beneficial.

Or it's because I don't like getting ordered around.  I still am not.  I probably won't be for a while.

Yes, I can't get compensation for my flight.  But HOW THE FUCK am I to know what can or cannot be done by the fucking airline, or whoever runs the damn show?  

You blame me for sitting idly by while this happens (because they need time to process the claim themselves) and I am only doing to my capacity and understanding.  Why the hell must informative and constructive criticism come with "I told you so's" and implied "proactiveness"?

All these thoughts, and I haven't uttered a single word throughout our entire "conversation".

Good talk.  Absolutely fucking brilliant piece of insight.

Fuck the song suggestion.  There isn't any for this.