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?"

Sunday, March 10, 2013

It's a Metaphor, You See?

At the request of Shuf, I shall write a review about The Fault in Our Stars (although I'm quite sucky at writing reviews)

*SOME SPOILER ALERT*  Don't say I didn't warn you.

Within the first few pages of the book, I kind of knew where this story would lead me to. Two cancer patients fall in love and at the end, one of them would die. So I was quite nervous when I was reading it, because I knew what was going happen, I just didn't know how it was going happen. To which, I must say, John Green pulled it off really well, I was consumed by the words and contents - and not the plot (but I was so so devastated)

The story begins from this girl, a cancer patient named Hazel Grace but the turning point starts when she meets the boy wonder, Augustus Waters (who's actually NEC) at the support group who was there to support his friend, Issac. Augustus being the charismatic and oh-so gorgeous person he is (yes, yes, I've met him) hit it off with Hazel.

He has this habit of calling her, "Hazel Grace", instead of "Hazel", which for some odd reason I found such a....turn on?

But that would not be the case if someone were to call me in my full name. It's just too long. *sigh*

Anyway, back to the review.

I was very much in love with all the characters, especially Hazel's parents. They were so sweet and caring and I like how they were her best friends. I  BUT I COULD NOT STAND PETER VAN HOUTEN. There were countless of times I felt like stabbing a knife through the book so he would just shut up. I pitied him, a bit, at the near endings of the book but I still could not wholly feel sorry for him.

However, I guess why I really, really like the book is because of its transparency about life and death. The characters were honest; there was no hidden meaning or riddles needed to be broken. The glimpse of reading people suffering from cancer minds, those living with them and how evidently, how people deal with death. When I say people, I do mean the dying and the living. I think that's why I love Hazel + Augustus, because the conversations they had were something that they only understood, similar to speaking a foreign language that only two of them understood.

Augustus is really, such a romantic but not the cheesy kind. I was expecting it to be like Nicholas Sparks-ish kind of romance but this totally caught me off guard. It wasn't the sort of far, far away land; it was closer to home and simple but sweet. He was flirty but not too flirty, and he really, just, really love Hazel. Oh. My. God. I can't do this. (I WANT MY AUGUSTUS. WHERE ARE YOU, HONEY PIE????!)

The part where he used his Wish to bring her to meet her favourite writer in Holland. I just died. And the thing I really like about Augustus is, even though he wasn't particularly a huge an of Peter Van Houten, he liked him enough because Hazel like him, as Augustus felt she had given him a special gift by introducing her favourite book. (And again, THIS IS SO RELEVANT SO WHERE CAN I FIND A GUY LIKE AUGUSTUS???!!!!?!?)

I cried at many parts when reading the book and I don't think I've cried this many times for a book. A Walk to Remember and The Kite Runner teared me up but this took me to a whole new level. However, unlike the Kite Runner, I could re-read TFIOS again and again without feeling like I'm murdering someone. For two consecutive days, I was depressed. Even now, writing about this, I think....I think I'm choking up.

Especiallu Augustus and Hazel's "okay" being their always. I JUST --

If I were a guy, I'd totally date and marry Hazel. Usually I'll have this reader-characters conflict when it comes to the main female character. A clear example was Annabeth from Percy Jackon's series and Katniss from Hunger Games. If you have read the books, you would probably understand what I mean. Sometimes I feel that some authors try too much in building up the female characters, to the point where instead of being strong, they appear weak; instead of being elegant, they become whiny. Hazel, on the other hand, was such a wonderful contrast compared to Annabeth and Katniss.

Oh! And do you realise almost every female characters in nearly every book is a book worm? Just a thought.

I can really go on and on but I think I should end it here before I wind up re-writing the whole story.

By the way, this, this is when I bawled my eyes and figured if anyone can love someone this much. *sniffs*

"I will not tell you our love story, because-like all real love stories- it will die with us, as it should. I’d hoped that he’d be eulogizing me, because there’s no one I’d rather have…, I can’t talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this: There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful."

Thursday, March 7, 2013

I Cried and Cried and Cried

This line has been ringing in my head since I read the book. Mainly because I've always thought about it and it's nice to know that someone else thinks about it too.

"There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does." 

- The Fault in Our Stars, John Green

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Between Those Intervals

I found myself struggling throughout the day after a good CNY break. Assessments, homework, deadlines, finals, etc. My plate was overflowing all of a sudden. From bits, it came with a big scope and to be honest, I was terrified (still am).

Part of me wants time to move forward fast, to the phase that I really want but part of me wants time to stall once in a while, so I can catch my breath after each wave, though most of the time I'm usually holding my breath under water; not sure how long or where I'm heading. I should know by now that things don't always, almost never go according to the way I want. Maybe the blame should put on human nature for wanting so much. Why I never like 'hope' that much.

However, while doing my work, I had an epiphany. I think that's really important, maybe it's not how fast or slow time flies but between those periods, those intervals. As sappy as it may sound but it rings a bell, I supposed. Like how when you read a book, you're living in that time of the book, whatever era it might be or B.C.. Or a long car ride, enjoying the long road and those snap bits which catches your eyes along the way. During those times, you're living between the intervals and I think that's what really matters.

It's hard when boring routine shatters those intervals. By the moment you wake up, you're already looking forward for the day to end. I hate when I get that feeling, it makes me feel I'm wasting the entire day, wasting those intervals by not participating in it.

So here I am, 1:40 am writing this post because this is when usually I live in my intervals.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

These Are Not Rants

Scrolling through my timeline on Twitter, sometimes I get repulsed or annoyed with what some people had to say. Often I think of the many ways to respond to them but I don't. Ultimately it hits me that I'm following them, can't I? That leads me to think about more stuff (which is never really good). So I end up saying whatever I want to say in my head and scroll away.

Lately, I'm beginning to notice that I rather dislike many things; be it small or big, whether it affects me directly or indirectly or even, not at all. The way some people type for instance can determine on how long the conversation would last because even at the first sentence or word can put me off if it starts off wrongly. Or the way someone dresses too, can be an annoyance. I'm a firm believer in comfort dressing but I also believe you should present yourself well especially when you're meeting up with others, it's simple courtesy and manners. I don't like how some people think or how oblivious they are to certain things, making me bending my head down and struggling to find a place to hide.

There's so many things I find myself turning my head away from that I begin to ponder if there's anything I actually like. It's hard, for me at least to find someone I genuinely like; the kind of like I would love to hang out and talk all day and look ugly in my shorts while eating pizzas at home. While I'm not the kind who wants 10 best friends (I don't believe in that), I find myself excluding to one or two people at a time.

Maybe I'm a bit too hard on people and on myself, but it's better knowing what you don't want than what you want.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Don't Talk About My Blog

I find it unsettling when someone mentions my blog to me. It's alright, I supposed if they make comments about it: "it's nice" "it's emo" "you read a lot" "you're so sentimental" (yes I received those comments) but when it comes to the more personal side of my blog, "what is it about?" "was it about this?" and all a sudden, I catch myself squirming, avoiding eye contact and get feverishly uncomfortable. Well, you guessed it but really, is it necessary to directly ask me that.

But you blogged about it.

Uh, I can see that. Though I never once blog about events word by word, I'm not writing a report; it's more of how I felt, thought and wondered at that precise moment. The gist of the event is there but it's not subtle because that's not what important. I always had a perception that what's really important is your state of mind at that time. That quivering or burst of emotions; twitching or knotting of the wires in your head, those little annoying, aching or precious, delightful things which carry the weight of the story and make up what it is.

So when someone asks me if I'm referring to this person or regarding that occurred, I'll usually say "Don't talk about my blog." Sometimes I catch the offended look on their faces but most of time, they'll nod and keep quiet, probably thinking that I'm being illogical since it's on the internet. But that's one thing about me, I know that you're reading this right now, for this short span of time I've allowed you to peep into a window of my house and after that, I'll close the blinds. If you see me on the streets or in class, all you will see is bricks of walls.

You may or may not understand of what I've wrote but that's the truth.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

A Stranger's Letter

During car rides (sitting in the backseat), I like to lean over and rest my chin on the side door. My dad found it distracting, my mum found it childish; nonetheless, leaning against the side door was something I always do. You see, during car rides, I passed by a lot of things, ranging from other cars, houses, cats, trees and people and I always wondered how were they and the lives they were living.

I saw an old lady driving. She looked frail but otherwise still capable of driving, though her face seemed to be lacking of looked dull. Observing people in other cars can be quite intimidating especially if they catch your eye. However, this old lady was somewhat in a world of her own. I wondered: Where is her husband? Is he still alive? Does she any kids? Why is she driving alone? Is she meeting up with her friends or grandchildren? I wondered from the present to thinking how was her live back 30 years ago. Whether she was happier back then and what did she do for a living. I just had so many questions for this stranger whom I will never meet again. True enough, as soon as the traffic light turned green, our paths parted.

Sometimes I find myself feeling rude at the mere thought of invading others' privacy -- in my mind, it's not logical I know but I'm so fascinated by these sort of things, the ones that we usually overlooked, the ones that are usually quiet.

I was looking through some old photographs the other day and I noticed the countless of strangers that have been captured in the background throughout the years. They looked like background dancers or singers who were there to somehow beautify that moment -- it's hard to explain of what I felt about it. Again, I wondered how they were now and where they are. I hope they are still as happy as they were in those photos.

So now you know what goes through my mind every now and then. The reason I like to be quiet and just watch people. It's a nice feeling, really. I want to thank each and every one of you, a friend or a stranger, a car at the traffic light stop or the man at the grocery store, for making a part of my life. I hope you're all doing well, wherever you may be.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Mash Potatoes

1. I have this weird obsession in making the perfect notes. When I say obsession, I mean that I would write accordingly to the headings, sub-headings, underline, capitalise titles, red pen for certain words and black pen for the others. And I must, must do all these in handwriting. You've no idea how upset I'll get when my notes don't appear on par as to my liking.

2. Swedish House Mafia was awesome, though I swear within that 5 hours+ of standing and being squashed and mobbed by the crowd -- I thought I was going to die. Couldn't stop wincing every time I turned my neck the next day. Oh, and a couple was arguing beside me during the rave. Roughly 10-15 mins while waiting for SHM to appear. So you can imagine me standing shoulder to shoulder to them and trying to respect their privacy which clearly wasn't working.

3. Every time I come for Dr. Jeya's class, it always feels like the first day of class. For example, today was probably the 20th time he asked whether I'm of mixed parentage or from Beijing.

4. I love coffee more than I love water. Why do I always love things that will kill me in the end.

5. Okay, so Caely, Joelle, Shuf and Candee have all gotten at least one of John Green's books. DO YOU HOW UPSET I AM?! THE PAIN THE TEARS THE AGONY. So if you love me, truly love me, you'll get me John Green's books. (it's actually available in Borders and Kinokuniya from what I've heard but it's just that I'm never around those bookstores)

6. I really want to go on a Euro trip.

7. So my sister told my dad that I'm turning 20 years old soon, my dad's reaction? "20?! Oh you have to start paying rent now."

Monday, January 14, 2013

I Don't Know What To Put Here

I have this habit (sorta bad) in which I pick books to read according to my current mood. Currently reading Pride and Prejudice and it's killing me :S Nevertheless, enjoying it more than I enjoyed reading Jane Eyre. On certain days when I feel like I need a break, I indulged myself in my Perks of Being a Wallflower. Can never get over it. Ever.

Honestly when I first saw this, my heart stopped in track like....
Wait. You know what, maybe leave Westeros out.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Change Is Good But It Can Be Annoying Too

I've never really understood people who try to change others to become their own ideal person. It comes in any form of voluntary relationship: love and friends. It puzzles and plainly, annoys me as well. Why do you choose to be with someone and in turn, want to change them? Shouldn't you just accept them as they come when you first heard them talk, walk and look?

To be honest, I completely cannot form the logic sense of telling your boyfriend "stop smoking for me" or telling your girlfriend "you need to stop wearing short dresses" or telling anyone in particular who's close to you (and whom you choose to be with you) to stop doing something for you. I guess it's understandable to feel special, to wanting to know you're worth something but inevitably, you should know this: you hate smokers? Don't date one. Oh but you really like him/her? Then you two would have to compromise.

Okay don't get together with someone and then, complain on how they're not good enough for you or on how they can't do things right for you, especially complaining about their behaviours and habits. For all human beings' sake, if he likes to wear Crocs, then let him wear. If you fucking hate it to the point by the mere sight of Crocs you might possibly suffer cardiac arrest and die as a virgin, why the fuck do you keep going out with him? It's really annoying to be honest.

Of course I'm not denying that certain traits are bad but then, not everyone loves the same thing. What I'm trying to pin point out is, don't force someone to change for you. If they do change on their own will, then that's good. Otherwise, it would come off as you moulding that person into someone he/she you wish it was. Not exactly fair is it? It's nice when someone decides to change or let go of something important just for you but it's nicer when you stop giving a list of do's and dont's for them to make you satisfied.

I've seen it among my friends which particularly had me feeling quite sad. Love requires sacrifices, I agree though honestly, there's a line to be drawn between what's for you and what's for the other person. You shouldn't change for anyone. If you're an annoying, bickering, nagging bimbo  who loves to cry over every damn Nicholas Sparks books, then he needs to accept that every shitty annoying part of you.

Though every relationship requires compromises, same goes with friends. If your friend hates that bitch, don't hang around with that bitch when your friend is with you. But then if that bitch is really a bitch, don't bother.

Maybe I just have too much self-pride to ever do what someone wants me to do. Some call it stubborn (like my mum) and some may think I'm just being unreasonable *shrug* If you can't take me, it's not your fault really, I'm just unreachable.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013


I was quietly standing looking over where everyone was, being oblivious to everything around me. I could have stayed in my room, scroll on Tumblr and have a good strawberry tea but I figured it's a new year, why not leave the house and join others. It was filled with people, children shrieking at fireworks and grown ups were recording the fireworks.

I just stood there. As I had, exactly one year ago.

A year ago, I was more enthusiastic about New Year because I knew changes would happen. Good or bad? I didn't know but the possibility of either of it was enough to make me look forward to the year. Though just now I felt as though I was planted into the ground and faded between whatever was going on about me. I actually felt a bit depressed looking at people who were so excited, those faces that scream knowing 2013 is their year. Why the fuck did I go out again?

A new year means another 365 days. What's in it for us? We could only wait and find out. It was fast, you know. As much as 2012 wasn't that great for me, I couldn't help but feel hopeless at how fast time was flying by.

That's the thing about time. You think that nothing changes but when you look back, everything changed. The worst part about this is, I never felt the change. I'm still the same but different. Nothing has changed but something has changed. The yearn of a change that'll leave an impact on me, that will turn my world in 360 degrees....where is it? Perhaps I'm asking too much.

I really hope 2013 would be the year for me. The year that I will turn 20 years old. The year of freedom and escapism. The year that everything changes. I can fairly say that 2013 would be the year that will make or break me and truth to be told, I'm absolutely terrified. 

Anyway, Happy New Year on this rather depressing note. I hope 2013 would be good to you and be the year that you all deserve. I really do you know, I really do.