I think...

...that I've fallen quite in love.



Who else is a combination of complete narcissism, a healthy amount of eccentricity, astounding musical talent, and stunning good looks?

I won’t tell you that I love you, Kiss or hug you,
Cause I’m bluffin’ with my muffin,
I’m not lying I’m just stunnin’
with my love-glue-gunning...

How can I claim to have any friends...

...when I feel down and depressed and have absolutely no one to call?

Where art thou, my Dulcinea del Toboso?

Ye trees and herbs, so green and tall,

That shade this meadow, and adorn,

If you rejoice, not at my thrall,

Give ear unto a wretch forlorn;

Nor let my grief, though loud invade

Your peace; but by Don Quixote, be a

Self-offer'd tax of sorrow, paid

In absence of his Dulcinea

del Toboso.

These are rocks, to which he's driven

By her who seems not much to care for

The truest lover under heaven:

And yet he knows not why nor wherefore.

By love toss'd like a tennis-ball,

A cask of tears, will not defray a

Whole day's expence of grief and gall,

In absence of his Dulcinea

del Toboso.

Among these craggy rocks and brambles,

He hangs alas! on sorrow's tenters;

Or curses as alone he rambles,

The cruel cause of his misventures.

Unpitying love, about his ears,

With scourge severe begin to play a

Most dreadful game that made his tears

Flow for his absent Dulcinea

del Toboso.

I don't normally like classic, literary poems, but I have to admit:

Don Quixote is the shit.

I think personally, this is the best book I've ever read in my life. There's nothing obviously spectacular about it, I just believe that in a previous life, I was a Don Quixote.

I'm even considering not finishing the book because I don't really want the story to end.

.....yeah right.

Back to the book!

I have decided tonight to...

...forfeit our date. At least, for the time being.

Don't get me wrong, I still like you.

But it seems that we've run out of the magic we once had, and I can't say for sure but perhaps its due to the fact that you're hurting.

And it's not the futility of the whole enterprise either, (because you know my love-hate relationship with futility) but it seems rather disrespectful to be going after you while you're still grieving over what seems to be a tragic, unrequited love.

I'd like to be a consoling friend, if nothing else, but very much like Love, Friendship isn't something you can force either.

I still owe you some good karma for my birthday wish, and until I can repay it in full, I hope my sincerest wishes that at the very least you don't hurt alone would suffice. Never underestimate the power of company, I say.

Until then, I shall be satisfied with this;

...which I still smile about sometimes. =)

The way you wear your hat,

The way you sip your tea,

The memory of all that,

No no, they can't take that away from me.

There is...

...a very huge difference, a gaping chasm in fact between "You can do better," and "You deserve better."

And I'm in some ways quite crushed that the best you can give me is the latter.

Of Infidelity.

Perhaps due to my skeptical/pessimistic nature, I have never had much faith in mankind's ability to be monogamous. We just weren't designed to be that way. It doesn't take much; that second glass of wine after a candlelight dinner, that extended gaze into the eyes, that closer than intended dance... and we indulge. And I know the thrill, the magic of the forbidden fruit and its influence, and I'm not even in a relationship.

Somehow the idea of unconditional devotion and loyalty is just a tad too difficult, too above the bar. Someone should lower it a bit.

Tonight csa and I had a talk about infidelity and I told her that I am utterly skeptical about monogamy. To me, I said, infidelity is not a possibility, but an eventuality. It was a little unnerving to hear her say "of course!", which is why she conveniently doesn't believe in monogamy.

It's a little hard though, no matter how open minded we think we are. I have always wondered, if I could choose, would I prefer to be betrayed by the drunken, meaningless sex, or that sober kiss? On one hand, waking up convinced that the night before was a mistake means it was just that: a stupid mistake. The sober kiss however, means that there was something there that doesn't need alcohol or any other catalyst, he, (or even a she, how would that work out?) just needs to be around for sparks to fly. Or am I merely underestimating the power of having someone close to you deceive you? Does there even need to be physical contact?

I would like to think that my pessimism is nothing more than a sombre delusion, although I've rarely been proven wrong before.

Sigh, cest la vie, no?

Although if it was not for those little flirtatious escapes, we wouldn't come up with songs like "Me and Mrs. Jones," so I suppose its not all that bad.

To my friend(s): I will be there for you when they cheat on you, and I will most definitely need you when they cheat on me.

Me and Mrs Jones,

We've got a thing, going on,

We both know that its wrong,

But its much too strong,

to let it go now...

I now have proof that...

...though some of us may hate musicals, all we really wanna do is break out into song and dance.



How fun.

Luncheswiththechingching.

I was reminded of how fun lunches with you were, bitching and gossiping endlessly about other people and how we've come to realize that many Monash material students are really, at best, sub par.

"We" (a.k.a you) must've eaten the karma doughnut, literally because...


But I know we'll never stop, because bitching about other people with you is FUN.

To the divine one,

Please do cut everyone some slack.

You have another 10 months to spread misery on us.

At least, let us sail through the early part of the year smoothly.

Your smallest admirer,
Khairie

Dancing on your grave.

It's been a while, but I remembered once, a million days ago, when counterstrike was still a novelty and cybercafes were scarce, I learnt one of the most important lessons that I have ever learnt in my life.

It so happened back then that there was only one, solitary cybercafe near my school, the only one with counterstrike capable hardware and every schoolboy oozing with testosterone wanted to be one of the lucky players in one out of the only 8 computers there. Each computer was partitioned by one of those office partitions, and rather than one design or edition of the PC, it was more of a junkyard of various old second hand PC's linked together by one wire.

If you wanted to be one of those lucky 8, you had to call in advance, make a booking, and if you didn't, you had to wait in line. I remembered they had this whiteboard up front where the waiting list stretched for columns, and there were lines of boys just looking at other people playing for hours while waiting their turn.

Of course, being a young gamer myself I was not spared from this fad. And it so happened that on one afternoon, I was one of those who wrote their names on this whiteboard, waiting impatiently and eagerly with that tingle in my spine, just aching to get my hands on the mouse and hear the roar of machineguns.

I remembered watching as it took forever to get each name crossed out and see myself slowly rising to the top. And finally, after being the next in line, I watched, focused, as one guy packed his bags, and got ready to leave.

My eyes must have been shining with enthusiasm, which proved to be short lived once I saw the guy talk to his friend, and agreed to let him take his place. He went up to the cashier, paid his time, and then walked out. Of course, I was called next in line, and as I pointed out that there was someone else in my seat, the cashier went to talk to the guy. The conversation of course, is not exact, but I remembered the gist of it.

"Excuse me, but there's a waiting list here. You have to put your name on the waiting list."
"Oh, no, my friend let me sit here."
"I'm sorry, but it's his turn now."
"No no, my friend let me sit here.'
"Well, if this guy agrees to it, then you can stay, but if he says no then you'll have to leave."

It was at this point that the both of them looked at me, expecting an answer. I know, I should've said 'fuck off' or told him to get out, but I remembered how gangsters were prevalent in my school, and this guy looked pretty dodgy. Perhaps out of fear, or meekness, or simply exemplifying my father of always letting things go, for whatever reason, I said;

"It's okaylah, I'll let you have it."

Having said that the cashier walked off, and this guy, exhibiting his alpha maleness spat back, "You didn't let me have it, it was mine."

Reflecting back on this incident now, I realized that there are some things in life that you just have to take, some things in life that you just have to do in order to get what you want. I don't blame the guy now, although I have no doubt in my mind that if I could remember what he looks like and if I were to ever bump into him again, I wouldn't hesitate to screw him over, however way I can.

Today, I'd like to say that I am cold hearted and calculative, that I'd like to exact my revenge whenever I can, but at best I am merely non interventionist. A famous quote by Napoleon Bonaparte goes "Never interrupt an enemy while he is making a mistake," and this is a quote I carry religiously with me, perhaps added with a bit of malicious wishing.

Which is why sometimes, when you pay me the compliment of saying that I'm a nice guy, look out for the skeptical smirk or some other form of scoffing because while I can see why you would say that, you only say it because you don't know me. There are some people whose graves I would dance on, if only to celebrate their death, and I swear by everything I know to be true that I would do it.

And as for you, I tried, for the longest time, to give you the benefit of the doubt, but today I realized with a certainty that I've never liked you. We've had some good times, sure, but let me tell you now that if I should hear about your death, or your beloved, I shall try, perhaps just to evade curious questions from our common friends, to feign some form of grief at your passing. But honestly, I won't be surprised if I couldn't care less, or even be slightly happy inside with the thought 'good riddance' running through my mind.

As a matter of fact, right now, right at this moment, I actually have more sympathy for the guy who stole my wide screen tv last night.

Little mistakes.

There was a fire performance at the restaurant we ate at last night. This guy, he'd light up his sticks and he'd swing them around, eat flames, trail fire across his chest, that kinda thing.

He isn't a fabulous performer to be honest, his face is pretty much concentrated and unexpressive, leaving the flames to pretty much do the talking.

If you catch him at the right moment though, sometimes he screws up and burns his hand. It's at this moment you'll see him furiously shaking it, and then he'd look at the audience with an apologetic and embarassed laugh, and everyone would be laughing along.

I like those moments. It reminds me that sometimes, it's okay to make little mistakes.

...of course, it doesn't apply if he burns himself or the store down.

On another note, I saw you today. I wanted to talk to you, to tell you the painful advice you'd hate but so badly needed to hear, but then I realized we aren't friends anymore. Did you realize that?

You're digging your own grave, but this time, I'll let you. I don't owe you anything anymore, and I'll be perfectly content never seeing you again.

Perhaps someday I'd consider saying 'Goodbye' but I don't think its likely.

I think so too.

"You shouldn't have planned your own birthday."
"Why not?"
"Because you should've taken one day, just one day off from taking care of everyone else."

I wanted you to know, I think so too.

Movie night.

"See, it's not about success, dying in the streets, who's better and who's not! I just want to be a part of it! I realized that even if I've no connections, no talent, even if I'm one big loser, I want to use my hands and feet, to think and to move, to shape my own life!"

I cannot admire the movie Mind Game enough. It's one of the most beautiful movies I've ever watched, and nothing has reminded me that I'm alive and living more than that movie.

On another note, after watching a movie about a tragic love drama, political intrigue, and community and camaraderie, me and the boys have unanimously agreed that -

1) The lead heroine in the movie 'Shinobi' is hotter than any other girl in that movie.
2) The coolest (and best) superpower to have is the ability to stop time.

What can I say? Boys will be boys.

R or L?

I am of the opinion,

that,

if you cannot get love,

then,

get respect.

It is worth far more its weight in gold.

Am I still dreaming?

I remembered when you said goodbye.

It didn't hurt, not at first, just a sort numbness that crept inside, as though someone had applied some emotional anaesthetic.

And things just became all so surreal. I wasn't sure which was reality and which wasn't, and everything seemed to just blend into each other. It was as though suddenly, I was no longer myself, like I had been thrown far away and I was watching myself eat, sleep, drink, laugh and cry, going through the motions but not really there.

It was a dream, you leaving me. One I wasn't sure I was going to wake up from.

Looking back now, I find myself surprised that it was me who cried over you, it was me who argued with you, it was me that spent those long rainy hours talking to you.

I didn't forget, I never have, but I keep thinking; was it really me? Did I really go through all that? Had you and I really existed in the past?

If it was and we had... then why does it feel so unreal? Why do I feel like some parts of it slipped away so quietly, while other parts kept growing?

I've grown a little now, and though I don't think about you as often or as destructively, I secretly come back to you whenever life deals me a bad hand.

But worst of all, I suppose, is that now I can't seem to figure it out.

Am I here now, or am I still dreaming?