Thursday, March 28, 2013

After 1am Thoughts

221B Baker Street.

I am obsessed with BBC's Sherlock, I kid you not. Literally my kind of show. Benedict Cumberbatch makes things harder to breathe every time I watch it. Dr Watson (Martin Freeman - yes, from LOTR) is another adoring character. It's quite evident about the difference when the show is produced by Americans and British respectively. Not talking about 'who does it better' because it really depends on your preference.

However, comparing it with the movie Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey) and BBC's Sherlock       I'd pick BBC's any other day. Maybe because series of shows give you more anticipation and the urge of wanting more. But generally, the British wits, plot and Cumberbatch & Freeman on-screen relationship are superbly amazing. Another point to note is, Sherlock's (Cumberbatch) mysterious, sexy and intelligence mind is to die for. This is the definition of a hot, smart-ass guy.

Though the downside is, one season only has 2 episodes (each is about 1 and 1/2 hours long) and it takes nearly a year for one season. Now I'm hanging by a thin thread because the latest episode is not out yet.

(seemed justifiable to insert a gif here)

I'm sorry that my posts have been quite negative lately. Makes me sound rather pathetic but it's hard when things are bottled up inside. So really, I am okay. These are just feelings and thoughts, and I guess I express it differently than others who prefer to tweet or tell others. Then again, I'm the kind of person who cries and go into depression when I finish a book, should have seen that coming.

On a different note, it's 8 weeks until finals. If this is not a time bomb, then I don't know what it is. 

On the next note, I really hate morning classes. Nearly everyone does (I assume) but I just need to type it out.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Hang with Me

Come up, come up and hang with me,
With silence, on this old oak tree.
Come up, come up and hang with me,
With ropes, on this old oak tree.
Up as we come, down as we go,
With ropes and silence on this old oak tree.

(I wrote this down while doing my Criminal work. Go figure.)

Sunday, March 24, 2013


There are days when I feel less of something, like missing the final piece to complete a puzzle. Goddamn do you know how frustrating it is? A story without an ending. That missing piece.

Like the missing puzzle, I've tried to search for it. Under my bed, between books, closing my eyes, on bus rides, walking in crowds, being alone and sometimes, I've tried to search it on other people. Maybe the puzzle dropped on them or maybe they accidentally took it. Of course, I never asked them        not literally, that'll be accusing someone of stealing.

Maybe the reason I'm not accusing anyone of stealing is because I don't even know what's missing. I've been feeling less but yet, less of what?

What if, it's not really the one puzzle that's missing? What if, I'm the odd piece? What if I've been trying to fit in with the wrong pieces all the while?

I catch myself tuning the world out most of the time and just wrap my arms around solidarity, but it's painful sometimes to be a bystander. So I'd conform to be the same puzzle as the rest when I have the strength.

When I'm wearing thin and feeling less of myself, I think, would someone please just tap on my shoulder and say "Where have you been all along?"