Hours, Minutes, Seconds.

Hours.

Minutes.

Seconds.

Not a lot more left now.

What do I want to bring to the new year, I asked myself.

I drew a blank.

There were various posts, tweets, and crude pictures about what they want to bring to the new year. Some were pretty, some creative, some....rude. But they all had something they wanted to bring.

Me, I just want to bring my eighteen-years-old.

One more day. Just one more day.

What would I bring?

I'd bring my memories. I'd bring my family. I'd bring my friends. I'd bring my passions.

I'd bring my past.

Don't go, 2011

"I'll always look back  As I walk away
This memory will last  For eternity
And know that my tears Will be lost in the rain
As I find my way back  To your arms again
And until that day You know you are
The queen of my heart."


Indeed. I'll always look back, no matter how far I still have to go, or how short time I've left. This is the year that everything changed.

A year to remember, indeed.

Like I said, this year is the one that had time lose all sense. A month became three, half a year became a single day, minutes became hours and vice versa. Time seems to fly, yet freeze at the same time. I can't believe it's coming to an end.

This year was one lifetime ago. This year was my past. This year is my future. All in one, and one for all.

Ach, the start of the year was so different, remember? (Oh right. there weren't any blog posts on that. Double S.O.R.R.Y.) It was after school, after all of the hustle and bustle of SPM, the great exam, no homework, no folios. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I didn't even have to go to work or anything. Just stayed at home, chilling out, get all frenzied about fanfic, fell in love, stalk unmet strangers, chat with fellow authors. The pinnacle of doing nothing.

Of course, I also abandoned my still-hibernating books in favor of fanfic, which, apparently have me undecided between regret and oh-whatever-ness. Hey, I gained a fandom, didn't I?

Of course, this was also the year I went awry and learnt how to gamble. Well, it wasn't really gambling per se, as there wasn't any money involved. I'd have to blame it on Beat and my dear dear cousin Wen coz they'd sort of pointed a gun at my head about it. *listens to far away shouts and protests* You didn't point a gun at me? Oh well. To each his/her own. *grins*

Well, that eventually led to me 'meeting' a few new/old friends online via Facebook and Viwawa. I said old/new because I'd already know who they are, but we just never really... talk. Or chat. Or whatever. I had a really fanatic period of Mahjong and Groword and Big2.5, and in between waiting for my turn and waiting for food and chatting with Potions&Snitches guys, I had this remarkable-and-unexplained yearning to learn guitar.

And that's sort of how I picked up a little guitar, got familiar with the chords (not so familiar tho. I still can't get to that bloody stupid Fmaj chord. And I'm not that precise with the chords yet. But who cares, eh? I'm the very definition of Syok Sendiri. Proof >>> this blog you're reading now. Or not.) I went through a total torture two month session of fingersores to have that weird thingy (calluses?) on the tip of my fingers--which has hidden themselves away now--which was a pain in the ass. My thumb, from some inexplicable reason, had its outer "Skin" shedded. Yup. SHEDDED. Which led to no thumbprint right now. *grins* cool, eh?

And then came the frantic period when results came out, and the endless scholarship preparations. We had endless trips to the school to get things copied and certified, which, by the way, is almost untouched in the darkest corner of my cupboard.

And then YAY!. From some inexplicable streak of luck, I had a scholarship for Medicine, twinning in Penang Medical College (or translated >> free education in Ireland for TWO 1/2 YEARS! Of course, also four and a half years here in Malaysia, but that many years of studying makes a person.... weary. Whew. Not that I don't want it. :P)

Then came the leaving home stuff. All those tears and emotions roiling about. I had to say goodbye to most everything. I guess the experience forces one to grow up. It was then I truly found that of all the goodbyes we have to say in life, it's the goodbyes to time that's the most melancholic. I don't know why I didn't realise before, but then I still have a lot to realise in the following years, if not year. I'm not going to ramble on that, cause that's when I finally sat my @$$ down and started to blog.

Yup. New school, new friends, new crushes, new stalk-victims, new experiences. Most importantly, new blogging friends. That's kinda what drove me to continue updating this abandoned blog. I mean, I used to keep a diary. I used to write in it like crazy. Then, I don't know, maybe it was the fanfic, maybe it was something else, it came along and poof, all my time was used up on it, and my diary went into the protection program. I checked, really. It's been one year and two months since I last wrote in it.

But then again, this has been a relatively happy, safe-from-hormonic-explosion year, so my diary didn't get much action as it had the years before.

Really. 95% of my diary are crude words, salty tears and depressing statements. It's not a good read unless you're standing at the edge of a building.

The other 5% are, nauseatingly, about romance, books and their oh-so-cute guys and girls, and about Twilight, so yeah. Unless you want to find yourself smushed into a paste at the base of the tallest building you can find, stay away.

Anyway, one of the other greatest things that happened this year was Harry Potter. I got totally obsessed in fanfic, had all of the facts and significant quotes memorised, had Snape constructed as a god in my head, and had my own first fanfic written, and finished. But what really got into my head (and heart) was the movie.

When the last book came out, I wasn't the least big melancholic or sad, like I did with Inheritance (Eragon and Co.). No, I wasn't the least bit sad, even when Snape died. I wasn't that into the fandom yet. Even after I sank into the fandom quicksand, I wasn't sad that the books have ended. I still have the movies.

Then this last July (was it July?) I walked out of the cinema with a pang of loss. The last part of the movie. Everything had ended. And I was sort of lost.

Can't blame me, can you now? I practically grew up with the series.I had the first four books from when I was nine, read it when I was still fumbling over English (believe it or not, my English sucked then. I read my own essays then. UGH.) And then when the fifth book came out, I was in my preteens. Then the sixth book, the seventh. As I grew out from the innocent preteens (believe it or not, we were a bunch or naive fools in preteens. The beauty of the last generation, eh? We didn't even have cellphones or computers then!) entered my teens and had my share of hormonal explosions, Harry Potter was there with me, close in age and thoughts. The first few books weren't childish (I was still a child when I read them), the last few weren't too dark (I was entertaining dark thoughts when I read them. Teen age. BRR. Don't put me through them again.)

But it ended. That was the first few goodbyes that really hurt, and the first few that had me understanding a lot of quotes. A lot of things had me thinking about life, in general.

Is it just me, or are the other teens doing just the same? I feel so old, thinking about matters like this.

*sighs*

There's just so many things that happened this year, so many changes from who I was last year, I can't even try to recall. Especially after I read the last of the Inheritance cycle, with Eragon and Saphira coming so far from who they were, the journey. I gave it some thought, and realised that Eragon's departure was sort of the equivalent of death in this life, to never return.

Inevitable.

I finished the last book ( I reread the whole cycle) exactly on 2.25a.m. on the 30th of December. It was almost the end of the year, and suddenly all these things just flew in. All these loss, all these time. I even broke open my diary and wrote something about it. I'lll see how I feel about it and maybe post it up someday. It's the only way I can keep copies of various innocuous entries of my diary. I don't want it to disappear, these little moments that I'd hauled my lazy ass to keep.

This was a year of change. Change in life, change in mind. I really don't want it to go. There's so many things I want to remember, and I truly regretted not writing them down so I can remember a semblance of it. Time erases memories, and I don't really want it to. Not this year. This year's too precious for me. It meant too much.

But what can I do? I'm no god. Unless the world ends tomorrow, time's not going to slow or stop. Not that it would if the world ends tomorrow, but at least I won't know it.

It's supposed to be celebrated, the new year. After all, we all celebrate things that are new. But now I wonder. Is that celebration to disguise the longing for the old year to stay? Is it just a cover for all the sadness for the passing of a year?

The F.U.N in the funeral of time.

Don't go, 2011.

Stay with me.

Don't go.

Eragon vs Roran : Showdown Throwdown

I know I know. Seriously random and seriously off topic. But I'm seriously obsessed. Ask my sister. She'd witness my random shouting and cheers for Roran and Eragon to "kill that bloody bastard" and "cut off his stupid head!".

Right.

I know I need counseling, but whatever.

I remember reading Eldest wayyyyy back, and I remember skipping all the Roran part, eager for more Eragon-Saphira-Oromis-Glaedr action. I remember Roran as the weird, in love, do-anything-to-bring-her-back cousin who's there to interrupt Eragon's story and I remember hating it.

What I didn't remember was how completely, mindblowingly cool Roran was! As my classmates (and me, sometimes) would say, SAT.

And I don't mean the weird exam every kid in the USA gotta take.

I don't know why I haven't notice him before this. maybe I was too caught up in the untouchable, otherworldly Eragon who's an elf-like Dragon Rider and  magician to boot. I remember hailing Eragon as the hero and the best character in the story, and his epic romance with Arya made it even more enticing.

But as I reread the story like a month ago, and finally caught up with my peers in the final book like today, I find that my past opinions have changed.

When rereading Eldest for like the umpteenth time a few weeks ago, I didn't skipped Roran's part like I used to, even though I was in the middle of the finding-back-a-lost-passion-and-it's-damn-hard-to-keep-reading phase. I didn't skip it.

And then I found out I don't want to skip it.

I was hanging on to Roran's every word and every action, his every thought from the moment he started his speech in Carvahall. I was pulled in. And then in came Brisingr and then Inheritance. With every chapter and every book I became more and more caught up with his intellect, his capacity for the unthinkable, to go where no one has ever thought to go.

I guess people change as they grow.

When I first met Eragon, I was thirteen (or was i\t fourteen?) and entirely engrossed with awesome characters who does things no one can ever imagine to do because they're not human. Or stuff like that. That was what Eragon was to me, i guess. Something I--and the rest of us--could never even think to be. I guess I was in that dream where I was still... dreaming.

But now...

Roran is more admirable, much more than Eragon. I don't know why; it just is. Roran is loyal, he's brave, he'd do anything when it comes to Katrina. He's cunning, he's got a great sly mind, and he dares the unthinkable. I think that's what draws me in the most. He goes where no one else goes, he thinks what others dare not even think.

Unlike Eragon, who's a little too straight forward and naive, in my soon-to-be-nineteen opinion.

How people change.

Sighs. I guess this is another sign I'm not who I used to be. I hope I don't change much, though. I'd really like to be the old me, the hopeless romantic, the one who didn't worry that much about appearances and friends and betrayals and growing up. The one who didn't mind that much about life.

But I guess we can't afford that. Not when you're going to learn what's it's like to be on your own two feet and relatively alone in life.

Sad, eh?

Why do I always end up with that topic? I was talking about Eragon--and Roran-- for goodness' sake.

I'd better stop before I go into all those life and death and the end of the world.

Tata, for now.

P.s. Team Roran!!!! And Team... Severus? Man, am I confused.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It was Christmas again, after twelve years.

They'd spent the last twelve years trying to rebuild what has been lost, destroyed when their homes were invaded.

Almost everyone lost someone dear. Almost everyone took those twelve years to heal what they could, and bury those they could not.

Those twelve years had been devastation. No one could celebrate, no one could muster up enough happiness and cheer to celebrate.

Who can, when you know you're the only one left in this world?

But hope came, in the form of a girl and her friends, who'd lived the last twelve years as they had, alone, desperate, depressed.

And in this last few months, they've rebuild the lost confidence, the lost houses, the loss of whatever warms the heart.

Now, as the red and green lights shone again after twelve long years, they know, finally, that it's time to let go.

He stared at the lights in the distance. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," he said quietly.

She smiled and wraped her arms around his. "Yes. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It was Christmas again, after twelve years.

They'd spent the last twelve years trying to rebuild what has been lost, destroyed when their homes were invaded.

Almost everyone lost someone dear. Almost everyone took those twelve years to heal what they could, and bury those they could not.

Those twelve years had been devastation. No one could celebrate, no one could muster up enough happiness and cheer to celebrate.

Who can, when you know you're the only one left in this world?

But hope came, in the form of a girl and her friends, who'd lived the last twelve years as they had, alone, desperate, depressed.

And in this last few months, they've rebuild the lost confidence, the lost houses, the loss of whatever warms the heart.

Now, as the red and green lights shone again after twelve long years, they know, finally, that it's time to let go.

He stared at the lights in the distance. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," he said quietly.

She smiled and wraped her arms around his. "Yes. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

Almost Christmas

Five more days. Five more 24-houred, I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing days and it'll be Christmas with the New Year hot on its heels.

It's been a tumultuous year, what with SPM results and scholarships frenzies and the new school and friends. It's almost like I've got a new life, and without knowing, I've considered it my life for a long time now.

Scary, isn't it? My life a few months ago, staying at home, reading/writing fanfiction, waiting for results, applying for scholarships... It all seemed like another life, centuries ago. Like something you look back on after several decades, but was actually a few months ago.

I've been reading Eragon these past few days, and there was a sentence inside, something about Eragon looking back to life in Carvahall and feels like it's was another life, when it'd been only a few months he found Saphira. I'd thought nothing about it--god knows how many books have used that line.

But then I started writing this and... it came back. I'd never really understood it before, but now, I wonder.

Does big changes do that to you? Make a few days feel like years, and mere months became decades; make your previous life (be it months before or days before) feel like a dream?

Remember how we used to flip through these quotes and exclaim excitedly over the wonderful phrasing, the pleasing ring at how the words sound together, the picture it conjures? But how many times have we truly understand the quotes?

But growing up does that to you. It leads you across many many stages of life and various turns of events, experiences, and without knowing it, you go through exactly what those quotes say. And someday you'll come across the same quote you've read so many many years ago and find that you actually understand it.

That you actually can put yourself in that position and say the same thing.

Growing up isn't as fun as it was when we were three, or eleven, or even when sixteen. It wasn't about being able to tower over little kids (I skipped this part though. Unfortunately). It wasn't about being able to wear those blood-red high heels and elegant, long dresses and trench coats that the actresses and singers wear. It wasn't about being able to see the world.

Those are all parts of growing up, but not the definition of it. Not when you finally realised you're all grown up. Or almost.

Growing up would be the process of realising you have to live your life on your own, stand on your own feet, make your own decisions, and not rely on people to do that for you. You'll get help along the way, you'll get friends and advices. But you'll be alone when you live. You'll take the consequences alone. And those consequences aren't going to be a tap on the wrist, or simple lecture-off-your-ears anymore.

That is what leads you to understand those quotes, to actually say you've been through it.

And it ain't a trip in cotton wool either. As I said, big changes shapes your life, and eventually shapes these quotes. Changes are scary too, 'cause you'll never know what awaits. It could be a trip down hell for all you know.

How do you think people wrote those quotes, anyway? They don't jump out randomly. As Brom said, you can't scry what you haven't seen. (Okay. Danger alert. Eragon, go away.)

It's a lifelong process, eh, growing up? Just because you're 50 doesn't mean you're done growing. It's here *taps head* and here *taps chest where heart is* that matters.

So, Christmas. It must be something more, according to Taylor Swift. It could be this, coming another step closer to growing up.

OR it could simply be receiving new things and presents. :-)

So here's my present to you : Choose a quote, and tell yourself that every morning. Eventually you'll believe it. Eventually it'll come true. You could start with "I will give Vivien one dollar everyday as a kind act". *raise eyebrow* Ha. No, a good example would be "I will smile today no matter how much Vivien (or insert name here) pisses me off.*

ORRR, you could ignore me. XD I won't take offence.

Much.

Random Piallo (Piano cello)

Remember Jon Schimdt and Steven Sharp Nelson from Love Story vs Viva la Vida? The one that had so many people picking up piano and cellos and started learning? Well, they're back! (Not that they'd been gone or missing; just off my watch list. But now they're back!)

It's wonderful, their arrangement of the songs, their own rendition. I'm gonna put a few videos up, and hope you enjoy them instead of my ramblings. :)

The one that got them back on my watchlist. Rolling rolling rolling up to the top. :)

The one that prompted me to blog about this. Without you indeed. 

The newest, coolest, most colourful bows I've ever seen.

And for the last one, the jaw-dropper, the best rendition on piano I've ever seen, and the fastest fingers I've ever seen *drumroll*

JARROD RADNICH! Filmed under the Pianoguys, a little out of topic for the lack of cello, but otherwise awesome, I present to you the best rendition of Pirates of the Carribean.

Thus, I bid you au revoir for now, and Enjoy!

Even circles do end.

It's barely been a blink of the eye, yet the end of year crawls near, marking the first five (or so) months I've been here, at INTEC. we've made new friends, new memories, and tried our best to keep our old ones. Running around like some madwoman,  yeah, I think I've sort of managed both all right. *cheers* :)

So, while there are about a thousand and one stories (okay, okay. Don't shoot me. I'm not the most frequent blogger if you REALLY squint, but quality, eh? Not quantity.) about my old friends, and I hope this doesn't comes off as if I'm trying to brush off my old high school friends, but it really is time I should rant about the new friends that's I've made and how (un)lucky I am to have met them.

Right. I'm ranting.

So, there are like a ton of geniuses in this new 'school' of mine, so, I don't really have to go into all those self-deprecating statements and depressing emotions concerning schoolwork and tortures of that sort. So let's just move on to the types of geniuses you find in my class.

Well, first of all, of course there would be the "start ahead, stay ahead, study ahead" type. I wouldn't go so far to say they are nerdy, 'cause sometimes they are fun and amusing in their own way. Try quieting down and spend your time listening in to their conversations (am promoting eavesdropping here! But not on me. ) and you'll find that, wow, these people think so differently! Of course, there's also a few times you might nod off during eavesdroppings sessions due to excessive Bio/Chem/Physics input, but hey. It's worth it. :) At least you learn something. And they have such weird sense of humour! Try telling them a joke and see how they react.

Right. I'm having too much fun. Moderation, Vivien, Moderation.

Did I mention it was also fun to tease them and watch them get all serious over the "jokes" we made at their expenses?

Yeah. Fun. 


Then, comes the "I'm hungry" types. Every time there's food, even in the middle of class, they'll be the one gawking hungrily, salivating endlessly, dropping not-so-subtle hints about their wants and needs. Can't really say I'm one of those, but yeah. There's them. :)

Then the gossipers. Oh my. These are the ones you'd want to stay clear of, though I'm one of them. Dang. Being an insider makes my information and warnings even more precious, don't you think so? The pinnacle of misinterpretation  DELIBERATE misinterpretation, these people pinpoint your weaknesses and attack without so much of a blink of mercy. Right. Bunch of wolves, these people.

I mean, we're just a brood of cute, harmless rabbits. Yeah.

They--I mean, we're actually not that vicious, just when fresh new faces and fresh new blood enters. *shrugs* animalistic instincts, eh?

Then there's the party kinda guys. Life seems to be nothing but partay for this bunch. Sure they go around bitching about life and homework, but seriously, they are doing nothing but clubbing all day. And they bitch about life. Seriously? Get a life. Don't whine.

And then there's the "Got-NO-Money-need-you-to-buy-me-a-drink" bunch, which, if you ask me, is a lousy pick-up line. But I'm pretty sure it's not for picking up girls/boys. It's for.... I'm not sure what's it for anyway. Gotta go around and ask them someday. These people's brains are a bloody maze, and I don't wanna get caught/lost/crazy in that place. *shudders* who knows what lurks inside?

And the rest, well, I'm sure they fall somewhere in between the "I'm pretty crazy" and the "I'm bloody bonkers" group.  I'm pretty sure it's rather annoying sometimes, being in denial of your level of craziness, but sometimes that's what spices up life. But they're on their way to the ultimate peak of I'm-Making-No-Sense-'N-I-Lurve-It, I'm sure. They can't withstand our attack long enough. *cackles*

Ah, the joys of studying. Or rather the lack of joy. That's where classmates/crazed-serial-killers/crazed-JB-fans come in, I guess. Make you laugh when you're crying in desperation at your textbook, make you smile when you're glaring at your textbook, make you giggle when you're muttering curses/I-Don't-Want-To-Know-What under your breath at a teacher.

At least that's what I think.

Infatuation, Admiration and Crushes

I'll admit to having 'fallen in love' many times. It's hard not to, what with my easy obsession. I've 'crushed' on people I've never seen before, people who doesn't know I exist, people who's just that close, but I never could have reached.

More so, considering that I think all guys who can carry a tune, with his fingers or his voice, incredibly cool.

I've been secreting this away inside me, and that's sort of the darkest side of me. Then I thought, why secret it away? Didn't I complain I care too much? It's the best way to start, eh?

Uh, to be frank, no. But *shrugs* whatever.

Actors and singers aside, I've had only one or two people I sort of admire. Not the "idol" kind, but... Yeah. You get it.

Right. So what if all of them can carry a wicked tune on their choice of instruments? It's incredibly cool, alright? I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in thinking that.

But these are just admiration, right? It's just plain, Wow, they can do that and it's cool! , right?

But it's got me thinking. Is there a line that separates the three? Infatuation, admiration, and crushes? I mean, there's gotta be something you admire in your crush that made you fall head over heels, right?

All my life I've been raised in an all-girls school. Hell, even all of my near cousins are girls. That's sort of why I don't really find girls who can carry tunes cool, maybe because I've seen many. Maybe because it's not that far out of reach. Even I can carry a tune, somehow. *giggles crazily*

I don't really know the difference between the three. What actually is infatuation? How do admiration and infatuation differ? Argh.

Why are these things haunting me?


I must admit though, I've never really thought of that before this. Before all of this... fanfiction. Well, maybe once or twice, but still. It's weird, but maybe it's a part of growing up. Maybe it's a part of all this... going-into-the-community-after-being-locked-in-a-girls-environment thing. You get it.

Girls school, meet your negative side.

I think--still do, mind you-- that falling in love is a slow long process, that you won't know you're in love. But I also think that it makes your heart beat like crazy when you see that ONE person. Hmm.

Well, since I haven't found someone that can really make my heart beat, I'm gonna stick to admiration for now. I"ll see if I"m brave enough to conquer my fear of your opinions when I actually meet that someone.

Cheers.

Sometimes I just want to hide.

Sometimes I just wanna lock myself away in some far away room where only me and myself exist. Only me, my books, my music. Nothing else.

I used to be able to do just that, to lock myself in my room, escape from all those people, all those work; all the hustle bustle of life in general.

It's what a coward would do, I suppose. To hide away oneself.

But sometimes I can't stand it. I'm not brave. I'm not courageous. I'm the very definition of a coward where it matters. I'm weak, I'm fearful, I'm cowardly.

Sometimes I get this strange urges to just cry, with no reason at all. But I never do. Because I'm weak, because I'm too afraid of what people will think of me. I don't like to cry in front of others; maybe that's because it's the only way I can be brave for once.

But now, I don't find that courage even to just hide myself away. Even when I put on my ear phones, I leave space for other sounds and noises to enter. I don't hide myself away in my room anymore.

 I'm afraid of what'll happen when I lose myself in my world. I'm afraid what people will say when I'm not listening.

It's weak of me. To want to please. To want to make everyone happy.

Sometimes I just want to not care.

But I never could. I always did care..

And I hate it.

Growing with Goodbyes (The End of Semester 1)

Another phase of our life.

Gone, in the blink of an eye.

Saying goodbye is hard; maybe it's because of letting go. That was what I believed in, and perhaps, I still do. This is a different sort of goodbye, many would say, probably because it's hard on the heels of 24-hour-studying torture. It's the last paper, everyone, and now it's gone, cast away as yet another strand of those silvery things Rowling called memories.

Not to say I'm not euphoric; God knows I am. But now, as I sit down and write this, the room deathly silent save for the "A Thousand Years" music blasting from my computer speakers, things...change. It's the end of sems, and it's mid-November. A few more weeks, it'll be the end of the year and another goodbye. Seems like those SPM results-waiting times were things of the past, years and years ago, when it'd only been a few months.

I distinctly remember being reluctant to let go of the past - waking up everyday at six, putting on my uniform, heading for endless classes in the school filled with blue pinafores and white shirts. I remember being all melancholic about leaving home; I remember being nervous about living alone.

It's all so different now, seeing all those new faces in class, depending on yourself (and your roommate) to wake you up, feeling so fed up about choosing something to eat. People roam around the whole college with ease, with no worries about being chastised. Sleeping in class, eating in class, all those prohibited, forbidden actions now freely carried out. Having new lecturers of a really really wide variety, homework which don't really need to be handed in, fresh faces to be bullied and tease, being bullied and teased, new perspectives, new experiences, a deeper understanding of what it meant to be united despite your color or accents...

All those things that would have had a Form-five-me raising my eyebrows with wonder; now it's second nature.

These are the things that we'd look back at when we leave again, just as we'd looked back on our secondary life before we came here. Something --and the only thing-- that can be held on to, as proof that we'd existed, that this life existed.

It's been so long, yet so short. I've come so far--as is the case with everyone, I believe-- in such short time, merely six months. It's been a long journey, one filled with both wonders and excitement of the unknown. There had been so much I'd learnt, along with new and old friends alike, in this long-short journey of growing up.

Time really does fly, doesn't it? *sighs*



Now it's the end of first sem, then it's goodbye to INTEC, and--God willing--we'll be off to some other country. Next thing you know, we're adults, then old folks, and then... nothing but memories.

Maybe I'm just being stupid, holding on to things that can't be held on to. But it's those things that are worth holding on to, isn't it? Trying to hold on to time, to moments that have passed, to the smiles that pass in the fraction of a second, to the little wrinkles in time that slowly forms like the soft erosions against the smooth pebble.

But it's impossible, and that's what makes it even more precious. We cannot hold on to things past, nor something as intangible as time.

We can only bid goodbye, then walk away.

Saying goodbye this time isn't that hard. It's all smiles and laughter this time, unlike the first few "first times" that had us bidding farewell to the comfort of familiarity with tears in our eyes. Perhaps it's because there's no apparent loss in comfort nor familiarity. Perhaps it's because everyone is looking forward to regaining whatever semblance of the old familiarity at the place called home.

But there will be tears, eventually. Someday in the future we'll look back at this first semester and go, "Why does everything go by that fast?" And we'll wish we could come back to this stage of semi-adultness, with everything in a semi stage; the contaminated innocence, the confused feelings of love and hurt, the mixed joy of letting go and first times.

But I guess that's life, eh? GOodbyes and Hellos and what-nots. Everything's gotta end someday.

Thus, it's with a semi-heavy heart I bid this first--exciting, breathtaking, inspiring, and everything that's related to this wonderful phase of mixed rojak--semester :

Thanks for the memories,

and Goodbye.

Remember

I don’t remember anymore

The sliding sheets across my skin

When you mumble in your sleep

And pull away my side of the blankets in the night

I don’t remember anymore

The wafting scent of eggs

When you said you’re hungry

And spent your morning in the kitchen scrambling eggs

I don’t remember anymore

The warm roughness of your hands

When you brush across my fingers

Trying to teach me how to create magic on the piano keys

I don’t remember anymore

The soft pattering on the floor

As you tread across the room

In the morning trying not to wake me up.

I don’t remember anymore

Your soft moans of pain

When you tried to hide it from me

And I was crying outside your door trying not to let you know

I don’t remember anymore

The soft reassuring smile on your lips

As you tried to convince me you’re alright

When we both know, without any doubt, that you’re not okay

I don't remember anymore

Your soft fluttering breath

When you brushed your lips across my ears

Telling me it's okay to let you go.

I don’t remember anymore.

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to remember the twisted agony

As you fought away the invaders in your body

I don’t remember anymore

Or I keep telling myself so

‘Cause I don’t want to see you falling

Deep into that unending sleep again and again.

I don’t remember anymore

I repeat it in my sleep

As I eat, as I drink, as I cleared out the wardrobe that held your stuff

I repeat it as I breathe.

I don't remember anymore.

I don't remember you anymore.

Stalking Mr E

Yeah. Just decided that too few words can't actually bring out that..... "thing" sufficiently. I blame someone's blog post for that.

So.

What do you think of stalkers? Scary? Eerie? Mean? Weird? Or just plain annoying?

Well, I used to think they were all of that up there. Which is saying, yup, I've been stalked before. It's sort of like those times when you feel like you could just cut open their brains and see what the hell do they want, or why the hell are they following each sneeze and each step you take. Sometimes, though, it makes you wanna hide in a corner and never come out. 

But now...

I'm on the other side now. I'm, proudly, officially, a stalker. 

I am very tempted to point fingers at others for this strange... habit... I'd developed, but no. Others can't make me fall in love. Or have a crush. Or whatever that concerns the heart. 

It wasn't really that bad at first. See, we had our first meeting, supposedly, during my Orientation week, which was fab by the way, and he was one of the popular facilitators who conducted the meetings and gatherings. My friends and I, namely the ever eyebrow-raising YY, and of course, Beauty-Queen-Stalker GY, and our new gossip queen/ matchmaker MR, started this stupid game.

Or should I say, Beauty-Queen-Stalker GY started the game? 

But that's another story I'll keep. For now.

Back to our story.

You see, there were a few quite good-looking guys out there in front, trying to get all of us monkeys in control and conduct the gatherings properly. And us, being typical teenage girls deprived of books-and-other-boredom-chasing-stuff began matchmaking. Of course, it was totally one sided, and everyone, being typical teenagers, denied the matches made, even though some of them was rather, shall I say, thrilling. 

So yeah. YY got paired with our ever charming jabberjay (for quite a long time too, shall I say), GY with the celebrity-lookalike, and me, yup, you guessed it. Mr E.

I can't say that I wasn't thrilled. I can't even say I didn't deny it. I denied everything, of course, though some times (especially like NOW) it's kinda cool when you think back of it. Funny too. My objections 'fight' wasn't as intense as the others though (YY and the Jabberjay, GY and the Lookalike) but then again, the gossip flying through the air about YY and GY were far greater in intensity than mine. 

I didn't have to put up much of a fight. :) And boy, am I thankful for that! Hell hath no fury like a woman in denial! 

So back to the reason why I've been initiated into the ranks of Stalkers.Co. You see, Me and my classmates, we were supposedly attending an event and celebrating our act-- which went beautifully, by the way-- when Mr E came out, complete with the dazzling smile. 

Well, I wasn't really dazzled, then, but still. 

I was still fidgeting around with the uncomfortable costume and giggling away when he started. Oh my. I don't think I can fully describe what I felt then. It was like someone had suddenly turned off all the music and only one tune filled the air. His tune. 

I think pretty much everyone knows I love music(among other things), and I admire almost everyone who makes beautiful music. I'd fallen in love with so many musicians out there I've lost count, but none of them, as near as this. 

Ok, I'll admit, I've heard better, but still. I had lots of peer pressure around me. *wags finger at classmates*

Anyway, the night passed, and he was soon forgotten.

Or was he?

In our group during this Co-curricular thing we have going on, I was put in charge for the publicity towards the seniors,  about this event we were running. Thus, our paths crossed again. Now, keep in mind that he was forgotten (well, almost) after that night, and I was caught in the throes of nightmarish topic tests and unfinished homework. I didn't give the task (publicizing the event to the seniors) much thought, until two of my classmates came along. 

I figured the word 'classmates' was too tame. I'm gonna refer to them as 'tigresses' from now on.

So this two tigresses found out about my task, and figured, hey! Since Mr E's among the seniors, why not go together and get peeks and glances of him through the window while dear Vivien hauls her a** up to the third floor and work on the publicity job?

They did, eventually, helped me to collect donations and stuff, and I'm infinitely grateful, but still. It's the 'motivation' behind the whole thing that mattered. Not to say I didn't appreciate the support they gave. Some of the classes were just plain scary.

So yeah. We went for a few times, and me, being the coward I was when it comes to meeting strangers, couldn't bring myself to interrupt the classes going on. So we strolled along the corridors like haunted ghosts until they had their break. And as I went into his class...

Shall I stop here? No? Aw, Dang it. My fingers were getting numb.

As I went into his class, I asked to see the representative of the class. Surprise surprise. He was the one. (as in the class rep, not the 'ONE' , you romantic idiots) I shall take pride in saying I totally kept my cool while I explained what I was supposed to, when my tigress friends were positively drooling. It wasn't much of an accomplishment, since I wasn't even entertaining the notion of admiring his talents. 

Yet.

And then he started to talk. 

Oh. 

My.

God. 

The way he held himself when he talks, and the way he exudes total confidence and a willingness to help... He was polite, he was convincing, he was charismatic, he speaks clearly, fluently and maintains eye contact throughout the conversation, attentive; he exudes the air of someone who wants to help. He speaks not too loudly, yet the tone held something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

The first thing he said when he came out was something along the lines of, "This is about the charity run, right? Here's the thing..." And he went on to explain the activities they had planned on that day, sounding almost apologetic, but not quite. Argh. I don't remember anyway. It was all fuzzy.

Funny. Things seldom get fuzzy.

Oh, wait. They do. A lot. Usually when I doze off into dreamworld.

And then he said something along the lines of, "you want six, right? I can force them if you want..."

Yup. I guess that was it. I mean, I'm a class representative myself, and I know how hard it is to try to get people to join things and activities (note TRY), and also to go about it in a way that they don't get unhappy or angry. But he used the word force, in perfect confidence. (and I probably should mention he looked perfectly cool. Like those leading roles in Korean Dramas where the guy is a rich and capable manager or some thing similar.)

*eyebrows raised*

 It's all I've ever dreamed of being. I admire it, the ease with which he holds himself with. I guess I've always been a little self-conscious and a little too rule-following that I'd rarely break rules. I never had the total ease and confidence he exudes when I had responsibilities like being the class representative, or a leader. I doubt myself a lot and I try to keep everyone happy to the best of my abilities. I know I can't keep everyone happy, but I still try, because, after all, you're gonna have to work with them.

But this... I might not know the history behind the ease and the confidence, I may not know how he gets along with the others, but what I do know is, if I were the boss, I'd like someone like that to be my employee. I don't know. Maybe this is the main cause of my initiation into Stalkers.Co, maybe it was the singing thing. 

Probably a combination of both though.

That was when I began to feel really happy with the publicity job I've been given. I could pass by that class with a reason (else I'd never haul all xx kilos of me up to the third floor) and I could speak to him and see that again.

It's all rather crazy, you might say. 

I would agree with you. Totally. 

What's more, with those two tigresses fanning the fire (oh boy, those two were really really infatuated. I wasn't even that bad. And god knows, I'm bad enough. Peer pressure really is powerful, especially when those two are in.) and the combined stress of exams and unfinished homework, I decided I need to walk around a bit and get the publicity job done as soon as possible.

Excuses, excuses. 

But me being typical me, I didn't dare to even steal a glance at him. And maybe I'm just not really that keen on stealing glances. (who am I kidding?) I don't do stares. I don't do gaping. All I did was take a fleeting glance and then turn my gaze to the other people in the class to make it seem like I'm addressing the whole class, which I'm supposed to do anyway. Even when passing by, I make it seem like I'm checking to see if the teacher's teaching. I guess I'm just trying to be as subtle as possible.

Successful? Or not? You can't ask me. I won't know. Ask him. But tell me before you do. I wanna be there. 

Then again, maybe not. Dangerous waters, this is.

Sigh. I guess I'm not in love LOVE. I'm just admiring. And maybe it's just the hormones.

But all I know is, I've finally had a first in stalking. (mild stalking, really! I don't think about it every second, I don't notice him until those two tigresses point him out. Those two are the real stalkers. I'm really telling the truth. I swear on Severus Snape's most expensive ingredient. ) It's not really stalking, really, but I'm classifying it as such.

Admiring from a distance eventually equals to stalking. Everyone has a first, and this is mine.

And I'm liking it every second.

P.s. Doesn't mean I approve of other people stalking me. I'll cut your throats out, I will.

Cameras

(Inspired by peeking at the boy next door)

I want to look at you

But my eyes are blinded

I want to smile at you

But my lips are quivering

I want to talk to you

But my voice is wobbly

I want to hold your hand

But my hands are shaking

That’s what cameras are for

To still be able to see you

When hiding behind

To still be able to hold you

Right there in my hands

To still be able to love you

When you’re not here

And I’m not there. 

Sunlight

(Inspired by secret loves)

Trying to catch you

Is like trying to catch sunlight

Every time I try,

I get burnt out instead.

Trying to look at you

Is like trying to look at the sun

Every time I try,

I get blinded instead.

Trying to ignore you

Is like trying to ignore sunlight

Every time I try

I get sweat-soaked instead.

Trying to love you

Is like trying to love the sun

Every time I try

I get heart burn instead.

But you keep walking past me

You never notice me;

You keep smiling at me

And flashing those white teeth;

You’re still talking to me

Like I’m just another friend;

You’re driving me mad

And you don’t even know it

The grief of secret loves…

So much I love

Too much I hurt.

Fear

I have this fear

Of darkness

Or is it the unknown that lies within?

I have this fear

Of height

Or is it the unknown impact of the fall?

I have this fear

Of snakes

Or is it the unknown pain it'll bring?

I have this fear

Of writing

Or is it the unknown loss of inspirations?

I have this fear

Of letting go

Or is it the unknown world I might fall into?

I have this fear

Of fearing

Or is it just plain me, with my insecurities?

Fear is healthy,

But only with courage

What will happen, though, 

If I fear courage and bravery?

The unknown scares me,

And I run

I run far, and I run fast

But with my escape I fear the journey

If I fall, if I tire, if I collapse into piles of bones...

I fell, I tired, I collapsed into piles of bones

Fear brought me fears back in reality

And I feared again

If I run they'll come haunt me in the night

Fear

Stopped me from fearing

Now I trudge on

With only one fear of all fears.

And still I feared.

Forgotten

I've forgotten

How to sing

Like wolves howling to the moon

And pretend that everyone's cheering wildly

I've forgotten

How to run

Like stallions galloping on plains

And pretend that sharp corners don't hurt

I've forgotten

How to yell

Like barbarians battling in deserted lands

And pretend that powers emit from the single yell

I've forgotten

How to cry

Like banshees crying for their coyotes

And pretend Mommy's always there to hug and kiss

I've forgotten

I left it back

Now it's lost, with all the other things

I've taken for granted

Some things aren't missed till you're looking

Some things aren't what they look like

We had all wanted to grow up

Only till we'd forgotten that we remembered

How we used to be alive with innocence

Grown ups were supposedly brave and wise

Why are they afraid to be true to themselves?

Is it because we've forgotten

What 'true' was supposed to be?

I'd forgotten my childhood

And now I've forgotten myself

It Rained

It rained,

Every time I look at you

And you turn towards another girl

Smiling

Softly

It rained, 

Every time I walk past you

And you look behind me, at her

Grinning

Gently

It rained, 

Every time I heard your voice

And you looped your arm around her

Whispering

Warmly

It rained,

That night I saw you

Alone on the bench at your backdoor

Lingering

Lonely

It rained, hard

When you notice me

Those dark brown eyes, finally, on me

Smiling

Sadly

It rained, gently

When I walked to you

You sat there beside me, quietly, accepting

Broken

Badly

It rained, silently

When I watched you

While you bleed, catching teardrops in your hands

Heaving

Harshly

It rained, and rained,

When you took my hand

While I look on, you telling me about her

Leaving

Lying

It rained,

And like damp paper I tore

Staring lifelessly when you thanked me for being there

Friends

Forever

I rained,

When you said goodbye

And I looked on, untangling you from me,

Falling

Freely

And it rained.