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!