Im stupid and unkind.
Evil and vile
I hate myself
anf the things
i do, think and feel
im just so shitty inside
i good faker
that's all i am

I tell myself i should do things
but i dont
i try and try and try
but it never works out

i am weak and hopeless
watch me fail

Tiny Sepuku

I love this guy. A sardonic twist on love and life. A fresh, cynical perspective in a cute cartoon format everyone can and will love.

Check it out

i dont want to end up alone. Everyone keeps on playing with that fear. In the end, we are all really alone. No company in purgatory darling-you're on your own.

Still doesnt mean we should be alone in this plane.

So yeah, play on my fear of being alone.

Go ahead, i dare you. Spend time with me. See how you like it.

Anxiety attack. I fear everything will crumble around me. I am inadequet and lazy. Im sick and tired. So tired....i could sleep for a week. Ive bitten off more than i can chew. SHIT!!!

Family - of the Extended Kind

Ah, mi famili. Love them, hate them, im stuck with them. There's no running away from family, no escape.
My family can be aptly described as the 'Hindustan' kind. Like the kinds in Bollywood movies, complete with the crew of naughty cousins and pesky grandmas. And grand aunts/uncles/2nd cousins/very close family friends. Who tend to, at least once a year, descend upon my house and wreck insane havoc as only family can. Im just waiting for one of the uncles to get a mansion. With big gardens-then me and the cousins can come up with engaging song-and-dance routines.
Hehehehe
But in all honesty, i love my family. I wouldn't know how i'd survive without them. Im in a privilaged and unique position. I'm the eldest granddaughter on daddy's side and the only granddaughter on mom's. I was mollycoddled since the day i was born. There wasnt anyone else to coddle till Faiz was born 4 years later.
I was over fed, spoilt and if it is possible, over-loved as a baby. Even now i feel a tad bit over-loved. They still feed me too much. Even if i am on another continent. My family will find a way to get homecooked food my way. By hook or by crook. I love your beef curry, Dadi!!
Still, privilage comes with expectations and in so far im doing what is expected of me. I set a fairly good example (on the surface anyway) for my darling cousins back home. (i do love those brats, for all their bratty-ness).
I wonder why we love family so. Even though we dont choose our family-we just get handed them when we're born. These people who love me- sometimes, i wonder why they do.......... You cant hate family-they may annoy, exasperate, infuriate but in the end all is forgiven. Family is family.
I'm not the best daughter/sister/cousin/niece/grandchild but they love me nonetheless. I keep on missing/forgetting birthdays, anniversaries and exam results. I will make fun of bad hair or seriously nasty outfits. I will be sour and sullen at family gatherings.
But I do care. And i love all of you. You're family.

I still cannot post pictures

Forgive me for being boring. Lo siento para no fotografio.

Stupid slow internet

Cant upload anything

Kindergarden

Politics is like kindergarden.

We never grow up, its just the environment changes. Instead of friends we have ally countries, instead of fighting over sweets we fight over trade rights, instead of seeing who can run the fastest we have the nuclear arms race.

I hate it when people refuse to compromise about little things. When they cannot put petty things behind and look at the collective good. To put personal feelings aside for a moment and be logical and objective.

To consider that perhap that there was malice from both sides. One side expecting too much, the other a bit to self absorbed to care. They were close. He would confide in her, tell her his thoughts. She enjoyed his company, entertain him with her witticisms. He would wander to her side, to talk. She would make him laugh and they would make fun of each other.

One day it got too far. She cut too deep. He refused to let her in. She was livid. Cutting off the friendship, which was already strained by the distance seperating them. They continued living their separate lives. Him, absorbed in work, forget that he had barred her from a part of his life. She let her anger simmer quietly.

There is no acceptance, no forgiveness from her side. He had spurned her.

He was busy and forgot. He only came back because there was something he desired.

She refused to give in. He was close to begging, but never quite hitting a cord. And so, all around them, people were affected. She has her beloved, could she not ignore his presence? Why does it have to be difficult for everyone else? Everyone puts on a farce for the sake of making peace in the world, why cant she?

What travelling solo has taught me

I never did write about the trip, did i?
Well, here's a quick summary of what i learnt:

*a whole load of spanish

*people are lovely and are generally kind.

*being shy is not worth the whole being mysterious thing

*I feel God's grace through the kindness of strangers

*Getting lost is not necessarily a bad thing. You may waste time and get really tired, but you see, experience and feel more. You may never know where you end up, so for backup always have a map. Just in case. (its not only a travel thing, but a life thing too)

*I like art, but 2 huge art galleries in a day is waaay too much. Greco is an amazing artist. His subject matter may be very christian, but the way he uses light and shadow, colour and contrast-just blows me away. Oh, and Goya's black paintings were straight up disturbing.

*I equate modern art to a form of mind rape. It just messes up my head- i dont like people messing around with my intrepretation of space and shape, making me feel and think things i dont want to.

*I can be responsible for myself.

*Spending time by myself is nice, but i need human interaction too. I missed family and friends.

*You can be yourself and people can choose to like you or not. If they dont like you, wont accept you for the absolutely trashed mess that you are, then hey, that's their loss. There's more people to kacau and meet anyway. It surprised me how many people actually hung with boring old, trashy messy me.

*I must see more of the world. Its not just the sights that was amazing, its also all these people i met.

Yeah, that's about the gist of it. On the bus, driving past olive groves as far as the eyes can see, i thought of something. If i am unattached, uncommitted and finished with FY1 and FY2 when im 28 or something, i would take a year or even two off. To volunteer, to travel, to go to mardi gras in rio, climb mountains and insane stuff like that.

See, the whole getting lost thing. And i will be nice to strangers.

Daily report

Had something that is could be classified as a bad day.

I woke late.
My body hurts. Exquisitely.
PBL was terrible. Contributed nothing to the discussion.
Ate too much again.
And im missing a friend's birthday for dance. Skewed priorities. Must send a card. Must!

At least i called my parents. They miss me. Something is going on, they're not telling me. I know these things.
About not learning spanish-I complained, and dear miss Janet says she'll try and get me a refund. In six weeks, if her people say ok. I suspect i may be fucking going to Shadwell next week.
At least i got away with knowing nothing at PBL.
And i dont have to run today :)

People i consider friends are having fun without me. I am not the life of the party. I have no life.

I'm asking for help: let me do well this semester. Let me do well in all the pies i poke my fingers into. Please help me be the life of the party too.......

Not learning spanish

I came back in rage. Almost in tears.
I was so happy when i left the flat-high from a ridiculous amount of exercise, had given away clothes to C and looking forward to saying, "ola, qe ta?" and getting "ah, muay bien" as a reply.
Except, it was not to be.
I walked in, happily waited my turn to ask the girl at the counter where my class was. It took her fucking 20 minutes to tell me that my class was at another centre. Why not take the tube there-its really near?
Fuck that. If i wanted to go for a class there i would've registered there. I was pissed. I asked her to refund my class fees. She starts faffing about, telling me to come back tomorrow.
Since it was pretty early, i decided,''let's see if i can still make it for the last hour of the class at the other centre.''
Did i mention i hate stupid maps-maps which distort reality, are not relative and doesnt label small roads or show traffic lights and intersections?
Fucking stupid map. I walked for 40 mins then gave up. Coming down from my high, tired and in rage. White hot, illogical rage. I wanted to hurt myself. Scream. Do something.
I came home to whine to A.
He is docile in his approach to me being pissed and gorging on ben and jerry's. He is no help in disapating anger. He recommends theme hospital. I try it. That fucking frustrates me too. Something is fucked in that game.
I try lying down. Only make me feel helpless. So i get up, clean my bed, my table, and then fix my shoes. I patch up the black ones, clean and change the laces for my adidas and fix the heel on my datin shoes. I repainted my battered converse-ques-londsdales: now the room smells of chemicals. Im still not high.
Through the whole shoe fixing thing i listened to linkin park. They are fucking geniuses. No other band captures helplessness, anger and existenial angst and puts it in songs the way they do. I would take a year off whatever i do in this life to be a groupie when they are on tour. I will do their laundry, clean their tour bus, anything. They're probably the only band i would do that for.
Now that shoes are done, i shall start on pbl.
Writing is my catharsis.
Who gives a fuck, i know no one reads it-as long as its out there. It's the potential. Hope is really shit, but it is good shit. Hope is worst than any drug. It keeps you going when you should really give up, it makes you think it'll be better tomorrow-all you need is a bit of hope.
Fuck that.
It'll never happen.
There is no hope.
It's time to give up.
Hope is useless.
GIVE UP.

she's doing well

She,
The one i spend my time
writing about
The one i want to be
the one i envy

Just writing to say
that she's doing better then ever
Flourishing
from time spent with beloved
among adoring friends and family
with fresh experiences

Need i say more?

My dilemma

i sit there and stare
i mouth the words
i say things
heard,
but not heeded.

Pained, i let them decree my joy.

I follow, for i fear disapproval.

I make not waves.
A bouy floats, it resists not.

And so i trash about, moving as they please
I say nothing
when it means so much
they do not listen
they do not know how

I dare not
For i will be
A sad loner freak
No more

I am the cause of my own misery.

How i wish
I could break free
Of the binds that tie me to
this spot of sea.

The cord is long
The waters deep
The seabed dark
And foundations strongs

Will i be happier floating free?
Or will i just feel lost
Just-by-myself-me?
Will i ever find
Kindreds who love me true

Do they exist
Or do i keep lying
To myself
To pass by
The endless floating days

Loyalties

Where does my loyalty lie?
What do i do?
Faced with a dilemma,
and i have to choose.........

I have no integrity
My principles are awry
I hold on to nothing
But to save what is mine

So i do what i think
Is best for me
I let my loyalty float
Like a buoy in the sea

As long as i stay afloat
In the turbulent sea

Memento Mori

Its disturbing when 'memento mori' is a recurring phrase that pops up. It all began when i googled tattooed teddy. I was bored. Once search that came out was the movie 'memento', which coincidentally, was on this ad for free dvd rentals at floyer (my hall). I managed to get my hands on the movie (shazzer's). The movie is cool, well different from anything ive seen before. I wikipediaed the movie, to only read about 'memento mori'- a phrase that in latin means 'remember that you are mortal'.
A few days later i read a book about murder and intrigue in ancient rome, and the phrase memento mori comes up. Its wierd because i would never pay attention to it, except i knew what memento mori meant.
Today, i was sifting through stuff to stick on my travel scrapbook (which im happy to note, is done now!) i see a postcard. I flipped it over and there was this picture of a skull- a drawing by an artist, entitled 'memento mori'.

Why am i being reminded i'm mortal?
Im kinda scared.
I fear dying. I still think im too young to die. Ive not atoned for all my sins. There is a high probability i will end up in helll if i die now.
I need time. Time to make up for all the wrongs. To do more good. To make a lasting (positive) difference.
I want to see the world. I want to do good. I want to regain God's grace and love. I fear i have lost it.
I will remember that im mortal. That my time is ticking. That death is always near. Waste not, want not.
Forgive me if i had forgotten or blantantly ignored the rules.