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After so many 2.34ams, 2nd chances, reconciliations and great events, I'm still so easily fucked over by stupid french dreamy sounding Mondialitos and a dusty queen-sized bed.
Who ever said I lost the spark haha
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An urge, not to confess the ugly, but to admit the way it really feels. When you don't dare, it's like holding back the ill-tasting vomit in your throat. It's hard to swallow all that bile. And you haven't even begun to eat. |
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My repeat-mode-song of the month. Been a while since a vocal trance song got me hooked like that. I feel like I've revisited the younger days being lost in the indulgence of being lost. If that made sense. My heart went heavier and heavier as the day droned on today. I'm glad that I now know how to fuck things and grab a friend out for a drink than go home and mope. I'm glad that massive cleaning still works as the greatest therapy for me. I'm glad that when I'm done with all that mopeing, I feel a sense of cleaniness and acceptance as I watch the completely unappealing view from my window. I'm glad that I can settle down after a bath, clean and squeaky and accepting of myself and write emails, and entries, and scribble words on loose paper and feel bad feelings get scribbled away. And then after all that, the day just ends. |
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There was a time when fear didn't seem to exist. It rode on the back of the younger and foolhardy teenagers that we were; hovered at the edge of our ears as warning whispers. And then one day I woke up realizing that it had long ago settled permanently inside as a restriction to ever going back to being carefree. I was always a goody-two shoes in my awkward years, because well, I was awkward being myself. I couldn't have been any other way anyway. But lucky for me or not I don't know, I had a chance not to feel that way for a while. Awkward I mean. And during those moments, it actually felt, good. Not to fear, so much. A literal example. When I sit at the back of a cab, I buckle myself up for only 1 reason. I don't want to die. Why am I immediately thinking of death when I'm really just doing something so mundane as making my way to work. Do I have alot more to lose now as compared to before. Where did all this fear come from. Anyway, that was an example. I dislike moments when the past and the present are placed on the table together. I don't know what I can't deal with more: being able to see the present clearer or being able to see the past that I cannot relate to any longer. It makes me feel, out. I really can't find a better word. Being fearless was foolhardy really. Pretending that you still can be is even more ridiculous. But if I always have to buckle myself up because I fear, the one hell of a ride is nowhere to be seen. And I chose that. |
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chanced upon. like every other bittersweet thing |
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There are some days when I wonder about the logic behind the bad things that I've done. Sometimes I think of it in a warped way and justify the bad things done as me accumulating ammo. Ammo to be used when I want to get back at my enemies. But I don't have any enemies. Funny thing is, people I end up not liking are usually the people I liked very much from the start. And I didn't prepare any ammunition against them. I somehow do hurting things to people who cared for me from the start. I am wary. I do not think. And then, a long time later, there they are, sitting there quietly, being so super duper nice, not fucking me over. Hmm, what do I do with all these bad karma I've accumulated now? Great, just great. I think the pain caused someone you'd never expect to is more hurting than by one whom you'd expect it from. And since I'm such a vengeful spirit, I do bad things first and justify them later. I don't have good reasons for the way I feel sometimes. And usually those are the times when I'm lonely and my mind starts having too much time and I start trying to stir shit for myself. I'll throw a spanner because I get these moments when I can't stand the perfect grinding of a well-oiled machine. Sometimes I just want to cause a drama because it sheds some attention on me. I wish people saw me more for what I say or do. Mostly because I'm not really myself most of the time. I'm pretty out of sorts today. This is a nice song: |
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It took me around 11 years and 18347 mistakes before I came to realise. A tad too late but what the hell right I said this before: that it would be beautiful because I hate my life now. But how can I when this is beauty. How can it not be beautiful when you redeem me. My life isn't worth hating. Things are. I can't undo things. But I can not do things. I heard this song today. It went like this: and I sat watching a flower as it was withering I was embarrased by it's honesty so I'd prefer to be remembered as a smiling face not this fucking wreck that's taken it's place so please forgive what I have done no you can't stay mad at the setting sun cause we all get tired I mean eventually and there's nothing left to do but sleep It starts at the lowest. Then it goes up. |
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When it's us, I have no complaints. When it's not, I am strayed. I am damaged goods again. When I know I am, temptation is all I know. When I get lost in high, I remember you. And when I don't know anything, I turn to forgetting everything. Bottoms up Jamie Tang. |
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I found 2 new songs that's going to be on my playlist for a while. Not trying to pull a SATC scene here but a song that works is a song that works right. It's been a while, and I forgot what it felt like to be immersed and swept up by the way a song can make me feel. I'm trying not to use the "carried away" line okay. It actually changes my outlook in things for a while. If anything, it makes me believe that there's a bigger world out there for me other than the daily one I live in. I don't feel so hopeless about life. I honestly do feel so everyday. I just don't show it. Not even to my closest ones. I just don't think there's any point in saying anything and I don't mean it in a bitter way. Talking just doesn't cut it anymore. Once upon a time, I felt okay about feeling this way. I used to feel secure and assured knowing that some things don't change and will always remain with me the way I imagine it will always be. I must be very naive, because I was pretty damn sure those things will always be the same. Nevermind that they left, in more ways than one. I just kind of knew it would always be there, be it in memory or just as a name, a thought, and idea. But certain things happen, some evitable, some by choice. And it was hard, when they faded away. It didn't hit me hard, because somewhere along the line, I became a kind of Jamie who didn't make a ruckus when something I wanted threatened with its departure. Whenever each of these precious things left, I just watched it go. It feels like I'm sitting there, watching it go, feeling my heart drop, but not saying or doing anything about it. My body collects dust while sitting there, my heart following suit. Gone, no more. No goodbyes. Just an internal letter to myself, going "Okay, it's gone. Move on." Move on, move on. My mantra. My grown-up mantra. My unnatural belief. My dying self. I don't need it back, I will move and amass more. No, I didn't I haven't. I lose. I lost. If only those things knew how much it impacted me when they took a turn. If only I did something about it. If only I wasn't so cynical about doing something about it. If only I believed that outrageous crazy-hearted moves still makes a difference in today's world. I believe, I don't believe. Times like these, I confuse myself by letting some hopeful silly part of me out. I'm glad, that all these emotions inside me, is contained in this little unpopular site on the world wide web. I'm glad, that they never got the chance to explode into a ruckus. I'm glad that they are entitled to be thrown all around the place in words. I'm glad that I face the days in my real daily world leaving all of them in places like this. I'm sad that I can be glad. Somebody once said to me, that if no one was there to listen to my blabber about the dreams I have when I sleep, that I would be a "sad little Jamie." When I think about it, I'm not sad that I don't get to blabber. I just don't think it's that important to me anymore. Or at least I tell myself so. I picture how I am with everyone these days, these months, this year, and I know while everyone has seen me in my element, they have not gotten to this part of me at all. This keeps me lonely. And while I don't like this feeling, I'll still keep it. I believe one day there will be someone whom I can give it to. It will be special then. It will be beautiful. It will be beautiful. Because I hate my life now. |
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I walked into every glass, in reach of something I really wanted. I crashed each time, questioning if I was right. I thought I had it, but I betrayed it. In return, I've lost their trust. I thought it was unfair. It was just retribution. I thought again, no satisfaction. When you cannot comprehend what you feel. When you feel what you can't comprehend. |
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Times like this I turn back to writing and put on a sad song. Indulging in the fleeting feeling of being truly sad. At most these days, I allow a tear or two. Openedly, I came home today wishing that I would see my dad's room door closed. Because that would mean my mom stayed over, and I really, really just wanted to crawl into bed next to her like the kid I was before, when you knew nothing except the fact that being next to someone you love will cure everything. So easily like that. So tonight wasn't easy. I still did what I had to do to go about my life. Iron my clothes for the next day. As I did, I sulked at this feeling that welled up and down inside me. It felt so bad that I wondered about all the people whom I love, who once felt this way and I wasn't there somehow to make the person feel better. Maybe I was asleep, maybe I was far away, maybe I couldn't be bothered better, but I wasn't there when he or she wished, hard like me tonight, that I was. I felt bad. And I felt a sudden urge to write an apology letter to everyone of them, to say sorry for all the times they felt the way like I did tonight, but just wasn't there. When I lost my phone over the weekend, I only messaged 2 people that I did. I wondered about the sheer small number of people I had to inform. It seemed like even if I was uncontactable from the face of this earth beginning tomorrow, it wouldn't have been realised until a while later, and when so, by very little people. Excuse me while I indulge in this belief and sing nobody loves me its true. I wonder if I took the life out of work, and if work took the life out of me. I wonder if many others have it worse but aren't complaining. I wonder about the people who have it good and are complaining. And as I wonder I realise I still go back to indulging in my own misery. So there you go, self misery rocks. Big time. Although it hasn't for the longest time. Inside my heart, a little voice begs me to reach out to somebody. I resist and I neglect the imploring. For it comes to a certain time when you know that you don't entertain little voices anymore. You know that when people know and tell you that. And from what I've heard in the latest news, I've lost quite a considerable amount of the little voice. I constantly have doubts in my head, as much as I try to fight it and as much as I don't deny I have some semblance of success to show for having fought them before. But everyone who knows me, know I'm soft as cotton inside, and if you wanted to kill me, and if I allowed you to, you could, easily, tear me apart. Excuse me while I indulge in the idea that the world has historically made me the wuss I am today. I don't think I ask for much. In fact, I've tried very hard to get to what I've become today. Sounds like a feat, but when I think about it topline, I can only see a couple of things left: I've lost a spark. I've lost myself. I used to love and hate that about myself. Funny, still can't decide. If I dare, I just want to say this. I want to say that I thought about you today, and I wondered how you felt in that new home. Or maybe you wouldn't call it a home, seeing how home is something you ran away from. I wondered if you felt this pang of loneliness and nothingness hit you when you put your head down. And even though I know it probably only took you 1 minute before you went off to sleep, I know you felt it hard and real. And I wished, that I and more of life could allow me to give someone important to me, you, the important time. I didn't. I'm sorry. I want to say that you are the strongest person I've known in my life. And being so far away yet feeling from you shows how much you have given me to take away. I have no greater wish than for you to be happy in your grey years. I'm sorry for my lack of everything. I'm thankful you still manage to find the understanding to not be angry. I wish I could be more like you. I want to say to you, hello and how are you. I want to repeat it a thousand times because your answer never satisfies me. Maybe I never really wanted to know how you are. I think all I really wanted to know have been answered in more ways than one. Perhaps that's why I keep asking these useless questions. I want to hear something which I've already heard before. I just need to constantly act like I never did to assure myself that we are beyond that answer. I leave this opened-ended, like how it's always been. I want to say to you, thank you and a million more. No one else comes to me as dedicatedly as much as you have. In a way only known to myself, you have succeeded me in my expectations of people. To the point, I don't know what else to do but to continue saying thank you and a million more. To the point it becomes banal and awkward so I just say one. I hope you can see that despite my moments of difficulty and behaving like I am superwoman, I have already yielded myself to less of myself simply because you don't treat me like one. And each time I am the frail and delicate weakling, you are one time bigger a person to me. The more you let me be me, the more I want to be less me to save you from dealing with me. I want to better myself simply because you give me the better of yourself. You say it's easy because it's you. I say thank you, and a million more again. Most of all, I want to say to you, take heart. Decide that you want something more than you fear it. Decide that a crash in your body, mind and heart can be a drop in the pond. Decide that no one else decides except yourself. Decide that when you stand in front of hurled stones and sticks tomorrow, you still have the task of saying those things to the people whom you havent had the chance to. Your life is not your own. You need to know that. And all you need to know now is that. Do what it takes to get there. Break yourself, hurt yourself, but get there. Cry. Sulk. Beat. Just get there. At least for now, you're not doing any of the above. You're talking to me. And because you did, you'll be fine. All it takes sometimes, to get up when you don't have a someone to crawl up into bed with, is to indulge. Indulge, in a while. In a while, that's all I need. |
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Some things attract me and then the next day it actually seems repelling. Oh well. Photos: After so many 2.34ams, 2nd chances, reconciliations and great events, I'm still so easily fucked over by stupid french dreamy sounding Mondialitos and a dusty queen-sized bed. Who ever said I lost the spark haha |
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In my world, this has to stand alone in order for me to qualify it as real. Something must have rocked my world and turned it upside down because I've managed to find bits of it in different places. One's real alright. It's real because I feel it. It feels like a walk down the park on a beautiful sunny day and all I can feel is warmth and content. It's a perfect picture of blue skies and green pasture and if you look close at it enough, you can see them. But wait, something else feels real too. I know it is because I still react. It's a Where's Wally picture, and finding Wally just before you are about to flip the page to find Wally again. Disappointment in excitement. Excitement in disappointment. Hang on, there's this other thing which is real too. I know it is because it stands out. Like a withering lonely tree in a landscape of snow. It's a sad picture, but a pretty one which I can't take my eyes off from. There should only be one. Something must have rocked my world. |
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So I tried to freeze time and make a decision: How should it feel? So there you have in either of your hands -a choice to find all the reasons Today to feel shitty, and another choice to not find the reasons to be. Alternatively, there is the choice to find the reasons to feel joy too. when the choice is obvious, you still find it hard to make it and action on it. It can't be about reason and rationale already then, can it. So you think: Sometimes, you have a good reason, and yes you feel shitty. But sometimes, you don't, and you still do. What's next in line then? Life can pull the lousiest surprises on me sometimes. I'm really tired |
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In the name of breakups, makeups and touchdowns, we went down to Butter (again) to ensure we all went down. Most of us did. As for myself, I went down alright. My heels kinda just gave way and I fell on both my knees in front of zouk. 2 big bruises no less. Well for the record I was one of the sane ones left that night. Jude as usual did a Copperfield disappearing act. More stories from that night, especially when we played I Have Never, but that remained at the table. Photos:  
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Just a few weeks ago it was June's Hen's night. The mission: Complete The List  She scoured Butter like a predator, left no man at mercy.  A kind soul named Victor helped checked condoms off the list. This was after Juned practically asked every single male in the club. Doesn't anybody carry one?  Kiss me bitch.  Boxers? Underwear? Check.  Finally, after scaring all the men away, we found a sporting friend to take off his underwear, albeit rather raggedy, and waved it to the camera. Take one for the team!  The List is completed. So we resumed to club.   Almost a weekly affair. Almost.   I am affectionate. Like Jude says, that's one way to look at it. Ha ha.  Last week at Broken Social. It reminded me of some evangelistic christian worship fest when the dude went "On the count of 3, I want everyone to shout 'I AM ALIVE!!'" He even jumped on the podium. Seeing how Feist's collaboration song with them was such a big hit, everyone would naturally ask "Where's Feist?" Even before we got to it, when the show was almost over, the dude went in a mocking tone: "Okay I know what all you guys are thinking. "Where's Feist? Where's Feist? Is she singing? Oh my god I love Feist!" Bitter as it sounded, he played us Lover's Spit. Without The Feist of course. More from Mosiac week. Penny the pseudo pianist.  I heart The Bird and The Bee. -shrieks- I'm on leave this week!  I went for a spa massage, compliments from Penny, a pedicure, a nice italian dinner, a swim, got a burn at that, a few jogs, read comics by the pool and I got myself a set of spanking new speakers. Woohoo I'm set. I am completely loving this leave. I even have time to build domino chains after playing Jenga. Went Ben & Jerrys at Dempsey in the noon yesterday. I realise true joy comes when you get to do things you'd never be able to on any normal working week day. I swear the joy of being out appreciates ten folds.   This is Penny doing autistic hand actions to Beyonce's "To The Left" song. I shall leave this, with more of my leave to talk about. |
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It's easy to get discouraged. "At the end of the day"s does it for me. |
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Adrenalin pumped week at work left me drained. I had to get it out of the system. I headed down to Skin after my meeting ended near midnight. Jude's last day at Ogilvy. Us at Skin, where we were compensated a bottle of vodka because the waiter spilled a tray of drinks onto us: Cheers to clumsy waiters!  Before the rest went bowling.   Tim's birthday where he revealed his happy drunk side, and Boon revealed his agro drunk side. I am the nice paparazzi who will not put up pictures of Boon hustling his friends.  A sober birthday celebration for Teem at Cherry avenue.  Look what birthdays do:  I have to go back office tonight to finish up some work. A week leads up to a great weekend which brings you down again. This is where I sing "back to life/ back to re-air-le-ty". Till the next weekend, the launch and my long leave. |
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Hope comes at the strangest times. Like how it comes when you can't feel any worse. Hope comes in the strangest forms. Like how it does when something doesn't appear. Hope comes with the strangest friend. Like how it does when you wait. Hope comes when there is nothing there. |
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I like quiet times like these when I get to spend hours to myself. Seeing how my instinct is to always find company, ultimately being alone really lets another part of me out. And I wonder what I'm capable of if only I could just learn to be alone, for a long while. It's like a good song, and how you enjoy every verse of it until it fades off to end, and when the silence kicks in, well, that's when I'm back to being me. I am curious about the other me. |
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Indochine on Friday night led to quite a spinning world at Butter Factory. Jude's brother in law found him sprawled outside the house on the floor with his hand still holding on to the change the taxi driver gave him while I found myself chasing after a persian cat outside Kee's house for a good few 10 minutes. We spent $500 on drinks at Indochine! We could have just opened a bottle at Nick's house and spend $70 in total. Those Jaegerbombs were good though. The waiters there all pronounce it as Jay-ger bombs.  |