The house that I had grew up in for seventeen of the nineteen years of my life, is going to be undergoing some sort of reconstruction phase. Some developer will probably demolish the place and build smaller, yet more expensive condo units in its place. Needless to say, compensation would be offered, but how can any amount of money amend for the many memories of my childhood and teenage years?

Seems like the connections that bridge me to that little island where I call home, are gradually dissolving. Slowly, almost sequentially, familiarity progresses with minute changes into the unacquainted. And as the balance between the known and the unknown begins to shift towards where I am currently, I also start to lose the desire to step out of my newfound comfort zone. Only when I do certain things unconsciously, such as using a foreign accent so naturally, then I realize what is transpiring. It's really frightening to know that you are losing yourself, bit by bit. Just like a string that is coiled together with smaller pieces of thread; after one of the fibers snaps, the rest easily unravel themselves strand by strand.

Is it true that there is always a replacement for anything? New friends succeeding the place of old ones. Homes with newer homes. And everything else. Even if it is, I prefer to believe it isn't so, because somehow it makes the present appear less susceptible to change. More stability, if you would. But then again, sometimes you just can't deny reality when it is happening right before your very eyes.

People manage to move on, but walking away is just so hard.

You learn so much about yourself when you start talking to people who have watched you grow up. So, my cousins were here for a while, and it's really amusing to hear the stories they tell. Allegedly, I had a strong propensity to pinch when I was young, and according to them, I would wave with clenched fists as if holding back myself, squeal, "I must, I must!" with impish delight, proceed to run up towards them and nipping their arms, thereafter scampering away with bouts of playful laughter. Although I have no definite recollection of the aforementioned rascally behaviour, it has been insisted, with great confidence, that such mischief did occur with regular frequency. However, in my defense, I would have to say that nostalgia has a strong tendency to exaggerate.

Summer is officially here, but it appears that I have more tasks to complete than ever. Sign up for summer classes, apply for housing, mail transcripts, prepare for transfer, get a job. Isn't my vacation supposed to already begin?

Here I am staring at an enormous bag of laundry out of the corner of my eye; a constant reminder (and eyesore) of the urgency to quit procrastinating immediately.

Speaking about laundry, someone had the audacity to attempt to "tax" my beautiful new sweater last weekend. Unfortunately, when that failed, my sweater was then returned to me in a tangled, knotted ball. Hey, not cool, but it was actually kinda funny. (btw, the strawberry cheesecake, despite girlish,is in fact pretty good).

These past weeks have brought me to certain places that I've not been to for some time; the little Italian restaurant down in Santa Monica, Downtown Disney, Hollywood Walk (Broadway) etc. etc., and even though they had each brought back some fragment from a past memory, I find that I wasn't really upset by it, and that's a good thing :)

Most importantly, I'll be finally getting some much needed shut eye. My many dreams miss me terribly, and it would be very irresponsible of me to let them down, wouldn't it?

Good Night.

I am SLEEP DEPRIVED.

Detesting finals week, as usual. But at least, these past weeks have been the "fun-nest". It's nice to have company around :)

It's 2:37 am, and its back to revision for me while the rest of the house snores away. I reckon I should be laying off the 'Red Bull' before I end up jumpy, spastic and twitching uncontrollably on the floor.

ZZZ.

Everyday, I have these little revelations, when I accept the different snippets of what's supposed to be and what's not. Like a blank piece of paper that has been drawn and written on, depicting a myriad of abstract pictures and meaningful words, and torn to shreds by a series of abrupt events, then meticulously affixed back together with an awkward bricolage of glue, tape and sweat. Granted, the illustrations are still interpretable, but the lines where the paper had been ripped are clearly visible, no matter how strong it has become due to its modifying fortifications. Yet, therein its right chest lies an empty patch, the remnants lost, perhaps deliberately, during the repairs. In its place though, is a sketch connoting episodes of self-justification, guilt, exhaustion and remembrance. But more significantly, it is an overview of realization, that what's lost is lost, and cannot be regained through any means.

Everything happens for a reason, although many a time it does not seem that way. Yes, I've gotten over losing those tickets. However, we both know this probably isn't just about that, but much, much more.

I haven't had much time to blog recently, because of school, work, and the need to entertain. But even with so much on my plate right now, there's still that one thing that lingers incessantly at the back of my mind.

Sometimes, you just have to take things with a pinch of salt, because it really gets so despairing when you don't.

After all, to quote Bugs bunny, "Don't take life so seriously, you'll never get out of it alive anyway".

Just when you thought everything was going to be smooth sailing from then on, life grabs you violently by the collar and flings you back onto the ground. And you only fathom how much you need that someone to make things right, when everything begins to go wrong.

I managed to lose 3 Disneyland tickets worth US$60 each, in just a matter of minutes today. It's one screw-up after another, and just in time for finals week too.

Great. So f**king fantastically wonderful.

I just keep screwing up.

My J.C. studies. Then something that meant the world to me. Now, I can't even do the simplest things properly, like getting someone to answer the door.

HAI. why like that?!

And each time I mess up, I just realize how much more I can't do without her support...

Everything just seems so wrong now.

There are some songs that I classify as "feel good" songs; I think it's pretty much self-explanatory. So once again, I've uploaded one to share.

Download link: Click here

Busy, busy, busy.

The weather here is SoCal is the warmest it has ever been; at least it feels that way. And, as if to add injury to insult, I've just sprained my left ankle quite badly. I know it's going to hurt a whole lot tomorrow morning, but there's nothing much I can do about it, except...

I've heard alcohol is a pretty effective anesthetic. *wink wink*

I guess I'm left with no choice. *more winks*

Oucchhhhhhhhhh.

School's getting really busy these days - it's just three more weeks till summer arrives, with its known heaty temperatures, leisurely days and fleeting romances, although I reckon I won't be involving myself in liaisons of any nature.

But then again, I may be as incorrect as I had predicted an exact year ago.

"Life's a box of chocolates". Well said indeed.

I think humans are instinctually polygamous - that was probably how nature intended us to be. Fortunately, just as how we had always found the solutions to a certain problem, we came up with the answer to polygamy; love. I can only surmise that love is courage, courage to stick with someone no matter how bad it may seem, to remain monogamous. Sometimes it tends to backfire, but for the most part, it appears to be functional.

If you ever feel that love just keeps disappointing, don't lose heart. After all, it's been around for as long as we have walked the earth, so it sure works! Flawless argument, I must say. Good job king!

I'm starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm not there yet, but it sure is getting brighter. The day I walk out into the warm sunshine and soothing breeze, will be the day I dance to the jovial melodies of life.

I'll never forget the day I left;
The way she held my hand in the car,
tightly and firmly,
as if her life depended on it.
The way she stood at the side,
quietly and looking lost,
as if she had no idea what was happening.
The way she bit her lips,
but the droplets form behind her eyes,
as if she didn't want me to know.
The way she spoke,
soft whispers and single words,
as if nothing could express her feelings.
The way she embraced,
'big big' hugs,
as if trying to keep as much of me as possible.
The way she kissed,
warm and slow,
as if pleading for me to stay.
The way she turned away,
swiftly but deliberately,
as if she could not take the sight anymore.
The way she dashed off,
with tears rolling profusely down her face,
and the heart wrenching expression of misery she wore,
along with the trembling motion of her hand as she covered her eyes.

And the helplessness I felt,
just being able to stand rooted,
separated by more than a sheet of glass,
but a whole different world.

I'll never forget the day I broke the heart of a girl;
a girl who did not ask for anything more than for me to be by her side,
a girl who loved me with all her heart.



Is thus why thee still haunts my dreams so?