I'm yours, faithfully

My parents will never understand what it is like being with you guys, why I love you so much.

I am not saying I do not enjoy being with my college friends but with the 6 of you, I am whole. With you, I am both yin and yang, I am an adult as much as a child, I am me and part of you, I am the Queen of everything I believe in. It does not matter I am nobody to everyone else, as long as I am somebody to you, and vice versa.

It is relieving being a child again with a certain bunch of friends, striving to be childishly irresponsible and reliving all that I have thrown away in the process of growing up. It is refreshing being a matured individual among another group of friends, learning to be who I should be now and reaching for the ropes that will swing me to the role I should be ascending into soon. But the thing is, as much as I have equal dosage of both each day, the mixture does not provide the exhilaration as ours do. We frequent between the extremities of childishness and maturity with the spasticity of a seismic monitor graphing an impending 9.0 earthquake.

It is assuring to be guided and groomed into the musician that I should be, to be surrounded by really amazing people who practically are walking manuals of how-to-be-a-great-musician. All I have to do is ask, and the same goes to anyone who turns to me for help (though I do not know why they would ask me, considering my lack of mastery in musicianship skills). But what if I do not want to be a musician for a while? What if I want to be the writer that I truly am, the science student I used to be, a book critique, the food lover when my gluttony calls or an imaginary character in many of our role-playing stints? Sometimes, I am just so tired of being caged up as a musician because I cannot be anybody else in college.

Everyone around me seems to be so comfortable in being who they are that they thought that I am being too stubborn and naïve to move on with my life, that I refuse to let new people in because I cling on to the past and all the friends I made then. I AM living in the present, I LOVE my college friends and people I have met since 2008, I DO appreciate what I have now. But some things can never change, will never.

And sometimes, I spend all my available time during the weekend of my Sluts not just because I want to be free of all the music shit and be truly happy for a moment, but also because I want to show my parents that we, Les Sluts, can be forever.

Stop right there, thank you very much

Like everything else, childishness has a limit point. I have reached mine. Can I be an adult for now?

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

I have impossible dreams. But right now, they don't seem that far fetched anymore. And the most beautiful thing is, I am not alone, because the people I love are sharing it with me. We will keep it as a secret for the moment, partially due to my belief of jinxing a spoken dream, other half due to the fact that we have got a long climb to the top. But we will get there. Then, only then, we will be a dream.

Music may be my reality, but this amazing idea, is my dream. Our dream. And God knows I need something to live for right now.

"If you don't have something to live for, you'll have nothing to die for."
Here's a toast to our imagination and the awesome adventures we will have!

Toxic

Yet another visit to the Emergency Ward.

Apparently there was liquid in that little reddish bubble of swelling on my new scar, like an accursed blister.

So the doctor did what I had always imagined myself doing to blisters on my feet: he stuck a needle into the infected area and sucked out the liquid with a syringe. Amazing. I had always wanted to attempt that with blisters but thought it was just some morbid desire of mine to get rid of them in a fast way, not, you know, an actual procedure. I sound like I have doctor instincts or something. Yay?

Anyway, I hated it when he was done with clearing the bump (thank God it was not pus or it might have spelt another surgery) and he started pressing a gauze against the scar to drain it of excessive blood that was probably tainted. While I sort of giggled hysterically as the liquid was being extracted, I began eeek-ing and whimpering in pain throughout the process of un-bloodying the wound. The doctor’s conversation with me about my music course to distract me did not really help either. It still hurt, damn it.

But fire always turns to ashes and the pain faded as soon as the pressure of the gauze lifted. And the nurses began the methodical process of dressing the wound. I had seen it done so many times that I actually knew the steps. Ugh. Not the type of information I really cherish having, despite it coming helpful when I need it.

I am just praying that this Emergency-Ward-visiting ordeal will end this week. Hopefully this tomorrow’s appointment there will be the last.

I'm frozen with this fear that you may disappear

O Great Force of Ink and Paper, do inspire me to write!

I now willingly open myself up to embrace your all-consuming therapeutic powers!

Transcend me into your Heaven of Words!

Let me be entranced! 

In simpler words, DAMN THIS WRITER'S BLOCK. Again.  

I'm walking on sunshine

Maybe it was because I did not kill any defenseless beasts for my dinner last night, but Karma rewarded me by getting my article published on Star today. Wheeeee (:

http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2011/5/15/lifefocus/8648611&sec=lifefocus

Tonight, tonight, we're dancing on the edge of the Hollywood sign

Seven days prior to my turning 21 and I was already feeling brave. So I declared I was driving Jing Hua and Joanna to dinner. I was not even asking for permission; I simply demanded for the keys. It must have been the flood of courage churned up from the morning’s unstitching process that filled the empty glass of confidence I had. Not that it made any difference.

The entire family objected. They obviously thought it was some suicide mission of mine. Whoa. I live in such supportive environment. I am overwhelmed.

Thus I resorted to sulking, pouting and appearing as offended as possible. The effect was immediate. I got my keys and the car welcomed me with open doors. Hallelujah.

The mass times acceleration must have been with me because the journey to the organic food café was relatively unperturbed and I did not freak out as I thought I might have. Compared to my previous attempts under the withering looks of my family, the drive was Heineken smooth. Thou shalt part before me, sea of metal boxes on wheels, for Moses seeks a path to a healthy dinner! There was even a parking spot cleared just for me. Praise the force!

And nothing could have made the evening better than awesome conscience-relieving vegetarian and organic food, topped with indulging deserts. At times like these, gluttony is a forgivable sin. Not to mention the ambience of the place; I love white wooden furnishings, so English cottage-like <3

Plus, it was Candy's first night out! I hadn't had much practice since bringing her home but the pictures came out amazing. What an angel! Made me miss what Les Sluts love doing even more: our need to cam-whore was akin to physical gnawing hunger. Cheers to Candy for keeping us satiated.

We left the Boulevard bloated, in both aspects, and the three of us spent what was left of 14th of May in comfortable silence with spurts of conversation, just how I like it (: