s t a r m | s t August 17th, 2008
Something is wrong with my lb account - all my edit buttons and stuff are gone. I can’t put in photos or do more complicated edits to my entries.
Anyway that is only part of the reason why I’ve not been blogging much.
I guess I’ve come to the point where I’m no longer comfortable about revealing things.and.people close to my heart online, and thoughts.and.words I really want to say but not here for everyone to see / pick on / draw conclusions yadda yadda. A friend - the one known as The Nemesis in the bar - recently commented [with some regret *amused*] that it is difficult to aggravate me online because I seldom touch on very personal stuff despite my writings on my blog, on plurk and other online places people that can reach me on. Untouchable. How perceptive of him.
There also things moving along in my life which are uncertain and unconfirmed, which make it hard for me to write about, however much I want to do so. Happy things should be shared, yet I hesitate to.. for now. Do.not.want.to.jinx.stuff.
Some things happening with some people from the bar makes me feeling not just a little discomfited. I’m not close to them two, that gal and the other gal, but I find myself worrying for them; not so much for the former but more for the latter. Of course the worries are based on conjecture, putting bits and pieces together, and kinda unfounded, but I can’t help worrying for them nonetheless. It is not in my place to ask after them though, nor ‘push’ my kaypohness in, so I guess things have to remain as they are.
One word for another reason of my bloglessness: work.
I have never felt so ‘dry’ about blogging before. I no longer have anything to write about. Or maybe I have way too many things to write but do not know how to write. Or maybe I know how to write them but do not want to reveal. Or maybe I want to reveal but am bound by friendship and links and the past to do it. Or maybe I just don’t have the capability nor the time anymore.
So.. til the next time, people… whenever I’m comfy..
s t a r m | s t August 17th, 2008
Why can’t even just that be done, for me?
I can’t help but be selfish today. These days I’m tired of putting others before me.
*burst into uncontrollable tears*
s t a r m | s t August 5th, 2008
s t a r m | s t July 25th, 2008
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;
I’ve thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds’ melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees,
And the first cuckoo’s melancholy cry.
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:
So do not let me wear tonight away:
Without Thee what is all the morning’s wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
- William Wordsworth
Bone-weary tiredness. If only I can have 1 3 nights of 8-hourly-per-night deep, uninterrupted, dreamless sleep…
s t a r m | s t July 22nd, 2008
s t a r m | s t July 17th, 2008
Been feeling moody and restless lately [at most times anyway].
So I want some wings to fly and soar, yet invisible strings of the blood pull me back, coldly, chillingly; choking and crippling me, again and again this cycle repeats and I am tired of it, pray tell me will you let me breathe on my own?
So I want world enough and time, but time moves of its own accord, not waiting, not hesitating for anyone anything, the world spins, not of wanting, not of any care, so leaving people like me standing still in the whirlwind of movements.
So I want to shed the layers til I can find my core again, and upon seeing a notice for a possibility to work towards that but of limited time to apply, I called them instead but was cut down on the spot [and the next will be two years later], not intentionally cruelly but still cruel to my ever-seeking mind.
So I want to mean something more, like maybe a significant piece of the heart, or a mite of the soul, maybe a slice of the laughter, a touch in the important bits of life; but it is not so, not time yet perhaps, and I know things should not be rushed for now, so here I hide in the shadows. Again, everytime.
*kesian*
I need a holiday.
So.
I’m going on a holiday.
Tomorrow.
Bye.
s t a r m | s t July 9th, 2008
for all the things that I did wrong,
against all the good that I have done,
do they balance out?
or is it not enough, never enough
to redeem myself?
s t a r m | s t July 7th, 2008
it’s in the little things.
it’s the little things.. that makes me smile. the little kisses planted on my forehead, whenever. anecodes about his friends and hilarious things that they do. when he said i want to learn about the things you dislike, not just the things you like. how his grip never loosen from my fingers even though he was fast asleep [and thus i couldn’t turn on other side when i’d wanted to]. oh-so-heartmelting.
it’s the little things.. that catches me off-balanced. spontaneous grocery and sangria shopping at holland v late at night. the camaraderie and dynamics of the house; 7 people [including me] around doing their own things, yet never leaving anyone totally out. her asking me to join the group for her wedding in december even though that was only the second time she met me. them inviting me up and offering chocolate milkshake with baileys and dragonfruit vodka [uh huh uh huh] at random timings. oh-so-naturally.
it’s the little things.. that ping my heart. when he looked into my eyes and said you’re still you it doesn’t change anything after i told him my ’secret’. coffee in the morning, and homecooked dinner in the evening. the but i like your hair even though it was wildly mused up and all sadako-ish. calling and talking to me until i was safely home even though he was that close to falling asleep. oh-so-sweet.
it’s in the little things.
/sappy
s t a r m | s t July 4th, 2008
So much of what we live goes on inside -
The diaries of grief, the tongue-tied aches
Of unacknowledged love are no less real
For having passes unsaid. What we conceal
Is always more than what we dare confide.
Think of the letters that we write our de*d.
- Dana Gioia
Haven’t I been here before? The inadequacies, the comparisons, the green-eyed monster the heart stirs, the wondering, the uncertainties, the questions, the thoughts the mind churns out, the past I can never twist, the future I cannot know, the way reality works which I still do not know how to reconcile.
Round and round and now I return to this familiar place.
I am afraid, of what lies ahead due to the past, so tell me how do I —
s t a r m | s t June 19th, 2008
if.. I’m going to be in for that, do it fast.
