sometimes, you should definately judge a book by its covers

there must be a pony!

todays the best day.
i have a feeling...
and it came true
thanks black eyed peas. for reminding us all to be brave enough to hope

6. My camera died this morning. It went to electronic heaven. Oh the good memories we've had together. It's like losing a best friend :( -fashionfoiegras
- dont we all understand oh-too-perfectly what that felt like. ( its not even funny. i prayed to trade my bf for the MIA baby. its obviously so lousy a bargin the G.O.D turned all deaf-ears)

7. so much abt the fashion fetish. cldnt agree more

8. yes we did skip 5....why??? I dont know....5 was chillin and didnt want to join the fun - @justinbieber
(do i even have to explain my love for beebs?)

9. the highlight of the day... i say beautiful things find their way into our lives without leaving a trial. and this little beau found its way into moi shopping bag at the very last moment- the counter right next to cashier
and im so glad that i picked it up
you made my day.
and may i present the ultimatum:

wana post everythg i loved in the inside...but dont wana spoil the fun.

for the sake of allusion- please enjoy my fav:

" Once upon a time a psychiatrist had twin sons age eight. One was an incurable pessimist- the other an uncurable optimist. their father became alarmed and decided to try an experiment. Christmas Eve he filled the pessimist's room with everything a boy could wish for; and he filled the optimist's room with horse manure. Early next morning he went to observe their reactions. The pessimist sat among the toys, books, clothes sporting goods- just sat there- eyeing the presents suspiciously, trying to figure out what the catch was. His father sighed and walked towards the other boy's room. When he peeked in the door he was him standing waist high in the middle of all the manure, shovelling it up in the air over his shoulder and laughing. Son! the father said, what's the matter with you? What are you so happy about? The boy turned, still laughing, and replied, Gee, Dad, i figure with all this horse shit-there must be a pony!"

dress with pockets, words with style

1."This picture reminds me of those times that you buy a dress not realising it has pockets, and then one day when you're wearing it your hand absent-mindedly finds its way into this little hidden bat cave. It's like discovering there's one malteser left at the bottom of the box after you thought they were all gone... how can you not love a dress with pockets??"

-Tania Braukämper from fashionising.com

2. "Proper words in proper places make the true definition of a style." ~ Jonathan Swift

3. From an old issue of W Magazine comes the story of Faraone Mennella - a jewelry house based in the foothills of Mt. Vesuvius that also happens to genetically design their own crop of flowers. Sometimes they design jewelry to look like their flowers and sometimes they design their flowers to look like their jewelry. I mean I don't think it could get much better than that. Envy doesn't begin to describe it. - ariel gordon

4. some hellos from toronto, ON and alaska


maple leaves and berries. what a perfect combo

the canadians knows it best: to spice it up with berries in blue

can u even imagine something nearly as possible?
canadian clouds materialized as maple-shaped-marshmallows?

hehe but that piece of special cloud just floated right into moi room :)

ahh todays gonna be a good day.

(to be cont.)



im glad i selected the dont remember me mode
so that everytime i start taptaptaping away in the little password space
i tell myself something i already know
but need to be reminded
(sorry dear but this i just have to keep to myself. it's THE PASSWORD after all)

so one the fourth-day-in-a-row rain rain pour away day
i decided to stay in a bit
replaced the beatles with some norah jones
some less repetitive lyrics with some doesn't make any sense
i hope by then, when the rain heard, it will understand what it means
when we sincerely prayed
to come again another day

there i decided to stay in
and decided a lot of different things too
(its the consequence of waking up before noon. I TOLD MYSELF NOT TO. but not today. today's some girl's big day of being officially able to dance behind some wheels.
believe me, its the second greatest thing other than being officially permitted to fly)
plus. i had this rare enthralling convo with the mother
over automobiles.
and we came to this conclusion
that its not the fact that dad doesn't trust mum behind the wheels
he just generally doesn't trust any women AT ALL
talking abt some 2010
and the very man of my life doesn't trust woman
now i guesss u understand why the occassional bomb bomb pows in mah life

okay. no more beating around the bush. get back to groundzero.
today i saw this darling
this charming carousel of words:




some fell-in-love-at-first-sight rarity moments. i swear i have to finish the book before the premier on 15.7

listen..but its not the image of the fragrance itself that caught my eye...instead, its the below....

Eat has top notes of Italian lemon, basil and bergamot; a heart of plum, red current and rose, and a drydown of caramel, meringue and vanilla. Pray has top notes of elemi, pink pepper and juniper berry; middle notes of incense, peony and rose, and a drydown of patchouli, amber and musk. Love has top notes of bergamot, red currant and mango blossom; a heart of tiare and dewy jasmine, and a drydown of sandalwood, vetiver and velvet amber.

talk about trying to justify scents with words?
i tried to imagine what goes through the nostrils.
i did.
i quite appreciate the fact that they realise musk makes one pray
and love?
i don't think i'm in a position to judge
at least
not now

so before i go spinning in circles with this ultra overrated miscellaneous post
i have to decide just some more things
aka which calories to down
once/jersey girl
when the rains gonna drain and lessen some pain
but for now
one thing's certain
norah jones
some music played perfectly right on a perfectly confusing day.

p.s. once..is more than enough

lets write about love.

is it wrong to like blackredyellow instead of blueredwhite?
is it even more wrong when klose shoves in perfect timing while luck left lampard a weeping widow?
yet luck or no luck, destined or fate
theres def some awed moments some more awed miscalculations
and im glad i stayed up for the entire 92min
i guess i have to decide in the days to come
whether i should declare some more klose/muller fidelity
or simply reveal my all-time messi admiration

one or the other.
and today i recommend a reminiscence of some beautiful love:

MySpace Picture Codes
MySpace Movie Posters


my politically incorrectness

some julia or julia once said something i couldnt seem to forget
"no politics with the father"
there and then i nodded like i want my head to roll off the rest of the bod
and made my vow
that i would try
at least
not to be TOO politically incorrect
by avoiding the obvious.

now i think sex and the city and the oh-so obnoxiously overated hollywood shoutouts
kind of turned my already-abnormal mind a bit more upside down
and guess what you get when u turn something upside down for too long?
the last thing you'd even think you'd think about
will end up being on top of everything else.

as opposed to what carrie wrote for vogue abt some marriages some vows
(see what happened to her, got taped by newyorker.)
i'm gona start my very first piece on politics.
mind you.
it never would be and never could be any pc
but since it would never do hongkong politics any justice even thinking of attempting the piece in say, the language before the handover
( i dont actually consider the british official medium of communication an official language in the hong kong after the invention of some chinese as medium of instruction reform. say what?)
and to get this going somewhere i have to first design a topic for my discussion
whether the new political reform introduced by the democrats is worthy of my support

(i'd like to put it that way. nothing too political. i was told indifference brings peace. from primary school fights to politics.)

i skimmed through some editorials (and there's where i got the whole idea of writing this from)
and some updates from all sorts of local newspapers
so all the information im having is already media baised. so please don't judge when you already know i cant really speak the truth when the truth is never out there for you to reveal it

lets get to the point
so basically there are two camps:
( and since it is a political reform introduced by the democratic party they have their own inner split)

A. the democrats, the government (and beijing) supporting the new political reform where they describe it, in an appeal to pity form, as a small step towards the long winding path towards the destination: the 2017th universal suffrage.

B. the opposing camp aka the pan-democrats plus the DAB and ,now just released, the civic party: in the pan-democrates own words, being the warrior and saving us hong konger's from the allusion of getting somewhere some destination which doesn't even exist

i watched half of the public political debate on sunday.
making some notes in my head, something that goes like this:
1. it was some good show.
2. our chief executive is some lousy actor but he did his part,
3. i should pay more attention to the moves rather than the substance( the bullshit)

by moves, i meant who actually initiated the debate, who's the winner behind it all, and figure out whos the dark knight all along.

i remember on sunday, i'm pretty sure our CE put up some pretty interesting replay of the dark knight.

and today, after reading all the dos and don'ts and what ifs and dont be tricked
im pretty sure i've made up my mind.
i dont do team ____, if you know me, im the last person you'd ever imagine leaving a room with some stupid badge on my heart. im never too ashamed of my conscience i need to defriend it in such a disrespectful way

on the other hand. listen. i'd like to consider it with reference to some chinese up-bringing, some westernised enlightenment, some law student's own 19 years of permanent residency and no patriotism but a heart for the best of my hometown

my father had long taught me the skill of survival. even if it cost me some years of being a stereo-typed "high-school loner"
to be indifferent. and swallow your words into your soul
its the one and only one organ that's worth your trust
and your time

my mother taught me something different
that we need some other forms of survival
the knowledge of the 2010 spring/summer D&G collection, most organic skincare products, the hunt for some wearable killer-heels
she taught me its not only about the inside.

sometimes i see why they dont get along.
why my mother wonders why my dad never understand the art of laughing some ass off over the new soap operas
and i also see why they ended up where they are
right next to each other even after he never responded and she cried with exhaustion
the need for each other.
the need for perfection

there i am, a product of the two masterminds, two already genetically different camps
a girl who wants to merely understand more about the world
on her one way ticket here
so before i get back to the politics
and reveal the curtain of whether i'm breaking my own rules about teaming and no teaming
i'd like to tell you something more
of what happens within a normal chau family

my dad frustrates me the most when the time comes to decide the next vacation destination
when i was a teenager (not that i am not one still, but that was some indication of the rebellious years when emotion reigns and there's no such thing as being rational)
i'd always have these fantasies going on my mind
that i'd be bragging to my girls about my next might-be possible trip to europe, roaming the streets of paris, drinking actual english tea overlooking the london eye...
while my dad says he'll die a democrat supporter
and (pretends) to give us 100% literal liberty over the choice of destinations
( i realise now why they gave liberty some resemblance to literal. pun intended)
and i really did try to believe i'd finally have my say to make my dreams come true
he'd often start with something like "yeah, europe's a nice place"
and i can already hear the BIG BUT and the shattering of my dreams
and after giving him the silent treatment, and learning for the 19th time,
i start to understand that a choice isn't really a choice
unless you get what you want.
all this time he'd believe it was a choice he'd given us all along
cause never for once the breadwinner didn't have his say.

story 2 goes like this:
now that i'd grown up a little ( pay attention to the " a little" part because i'd like to imagine i still have a long way to grow and that i am not too far from being that innocent ignorant little girl i once was because i still cant decide which is better.)
i learn that you would be losing your only chance of checkmate
if you left the table before you actually play
so i played
i played "yes maybe europe's not too good an idea after all" and expected some kind of astonishment and respect (yet it never came. not yet. maybe)
occasionally though, i get some "you'd decide this time" but with some sulks and some "now consider the heat and the deserted stores..."
i learnt, yet again, that its impossible to declare victory before you actually get the king.
the game havn't even started

so there i tried to change his mind, to talk him into something not JAPAN, something like the Maldives
but some PRACTICAL reasons made this impossible
so in the end,
before i tried to go on, planning my next move,
someone declared some reservations for the big J
and there i went. all checkmate. without realising it
i thought it would be painful. losing i mean.
but after locking myself up in the bathroom for two straight hours
i realise the fatal step is one i planned in the start.
by realising that its only legitimate to play with my own set
no its not.
not in real life at least.
in real life you get to go to the other side, and move the white pieces too
that i stood too strong on my ground
believing that this is the last game
this is my last chance
that 2012 is my last chance
and that letting my king stand's the whole reason im playing
or is it?
is universal suffrage the reason why im in?
why im writing this post?

the chinese economy is on the rise,
the yuan currency is declaring its victory.
china needs to go universal to expand and to reclaim its former glory
it doesn't have the time, strength, reason to suppress
but dont forget the chinese pride that's rooted in us
"I’m talking’ bout roots, I can’t hate where I’m from, cause where I’m from made me" quoted flo-rida
hong kong people, im not saying team helenchau not, but dont forget your roots
and how everything made us into who we are
i dont understand my rents,
and i dont think i'll ever will
but they did pour blood into us
and give us a chance to have our say

all im saying is
its not even about universal suffrage
its not about the destination
its about the tension
dont even try utter the disrespectful word "giving in"
no ones giving in when everyone's giving in
you can say uh uh no. i wont let u go checkmate. you go take down more blacks. but dont u move my king.
i'll say,
this is not the last game
at least not for me.
5 years,
10 tens
15 years,
i'll come back
and play another game
maybe next time,
we'll play under a completely different scenario
when i'm the breadwinner of my own life
i'll go to europe
hong kong will have universal suffrage
and from then on the pan democrats will realise its not about getting there or not
because they've already got there
without knowing how

p.s. im not saying we shd sit back and enjoy the show
im saying if we fight for that Valentino when im 19
we may end up getting grounded
or even worse
end up getting the best red on earth in our hands
realising then
that the best red doesnt show
when you're 19


this is what you get...for not being practical.

i was delaying this moment of clicking on "new post"
for the time when i have the world to myself on of summer's most starry starry nights
rocking to some jackjohnson's better together sipping chinese i-don't-know-what-it-is herbal tea
that brings just the right amount of cool
to this greyish purple heat


same story, don't wana repeat why some planned to last 5 minute session on facebook turned out not to be one, but a dozen
mounting to an hour of nosing typing messaging planning rsvping wall-to-walling
oh and there comes twitter,
the quotes that never fail to surprise
something like
"Women with 'pasts' interest men because men hope that history will repeat itself." ~Mae West
irresistable is an understatement

so in the end
i end up typing all these under a florescent instead
sorry poor beautiful starry starry skies
maybe next time

i almost had a fight with mum
(its always mum. esp when your single. and when u dont see ur dad other than at dinner.)
it always started with some light talking
and somehow we stumbled across something practical (i chose the word as i simply see it an equivalent to the dollar sign)
something like the event im hosting next week
to be frank
(see im starting to justify myself without even giving my readers the justice to knowing the cause. excusee moi for my subjectiveness. but this is how it goes)
i'm really hesitant bout the entire hosting action
i know its gona mean nothing but literal trouble
and with my not too much but def not too happy history
i think im right on this point.
yet i didnt know whats going on my mind when i decided to declare it a facebook event. i did it one morning right after i slammed the alarm for the zillionth time.
i think i didnt think straight
but i'd like to think messi didn't spend more than a split of a sec to decide to execute his beautiful scoop to higuian to complete the 4:1
theres no such irrational thing as being rational

but then the mother starting to stray from the number of attendance to something
like dollars/person
i told. i actually did the calculation on a calculator. a real one (not that it makes any difference, just to give a hint of my genuineness)
and then i dunno why ( i never knew why)
she brought up the mystery of the mising 5000. which was like somesth that happened when i wasnt who i am at the moment
i know its my bad for not following up with the case
then she starts it off with some know-it-all lecture
on how to manage money
and not let someone rip you off
it was some familiar tone
namely the you-thought-your-grown-up-enough-to-handle-everythg-but-you're-not one
i had enough of being taught treated spoken to like a child
not when im 18. to be 19.

this time i tried a different attempt. i tried to do what i was told to do for the entire year
use it not as a sword but as a shield
so that i did.
then she responsed with some "now u are getting angry again"
hell no im not. yeh i am, but its because you are understating me again for losing my temper
there goes the war

then the same old sequence of thoughts start bombarding my emotions
how to look for a job asap to pay my own bills starting from phone bills (which saddens me for a mo considering i just declared my fidelity to blackberry plan and unlimited wi-fi for $380/month)
basically being financially independent
then realising its not even near possible
and then i hate myself for being so useless
getting all worked up for nothing
because i dont have the last ace
and its not even a game of bullshit

there. but the war usually doesn't last long
i think i've out-grown emotions, turned more practical
i think.

and im going to finish the last song tonight
and go to some races tomorrow.
what am i gona wear?
i think i live on short-term memory
i wish.


i am writing a book

did i ever mention i'd like to write a book?
its never enough only reading one
its like eating cheesecake without knowing how to make one yourself
add in all the eggs the digestive biscuit crumbs the...(sorry but my obvious lack of talent in the field of cooking forbids me to continue. i swear i'll know it by heart someday. the recipe i mean. but for now, two is the most i can come up with without resorting to all-mighty google)

so the next question (or THE MAIN QUESTION) is:
what should i write about
i still can't figure out how writers come up with imaginary stories.
for me its as impossible as composing a piece of music without stealing a bit of mozart a bit of some sonata in D major...(the dotdotdots are explicable: also a tribute to my lack of talent in music. no. i just feel like i've landed in Mars if you make me confront some 5 black lines and little dancing notes. no. it only brings back nightmares.)

back to the main question.
so no to imaginary stories. (how ridiculous it is to write about something that is so unrelated to your own life and pretend you've had the birdseye view to some character's mind and heart. no i won't commit crimes as disrespectful)
so it must be something real. something me related. the first thing that comes to mind is a biography of THE FATHER. not that im going all team dad as fathers day is within a weeks time
its more like an excuse to reveal the mysteries of this man in my life
theres something he didn't tell something more i'd like to know
or maybe it's just some desperate desire for recognition
to let him know i've become something more
than the little girl who got herself lost in apartment stores

this maybe it. but i dont feel like its it.
there's still something i'd like to perfect.
so that means there's still a long way to perfection.

something real. checked.
something moi related. checked.
something...a little more...me...
what about a biography of me?
ok this sounds a little absurd
why would anyone like to know how i studied 24/7 for my cert examinations and my first pee on the bed?
no one would read something like that, let alone publish it
so an account of me life would be out of the picture
i'm throwing it out of my mind this very instant

now this is getting as hard as choosing the subject to write your EE on (IB students sounds familiar?)
something that has happened in my life that transformed me....
AH. the realisation.
something that starts with L
goes on with some P
ends with an assuring C

those were certainly days that changed my life
it was a year of opening my new born eyes
a year of knowing accepting experiencing loving hating liking disliking procrastinating reminiscing

if LPC is a place worthy of anything
it would be comparable to my very own dreamwork factory
its a place where dreams are produced pursued (sometimes..polluted by realities)
its some fond times i would never stop retelling
and the transformation it did to me only takes it form in its aftermath (aka college)
and now i feel thats it
thats the thing i'd write about
and with the benefit of hindsight
i'll no doubt sugar-coat some realities
but do we really want the truth?
or some stories
that melts hearts and allures conscience?

hehe. some visual mindmapping i've done in the above
i hope this doesnt bore you too much
but it won't.
this im sure of
cause nobody but tlf's reading.
maybe some is
but shhh....
just pretend you didn't stumble across my words
so i can still dream that i have this little space to myself



we'll stay forever young.

wasnt exactly worn out from smoking in smoking out 5 times in a row
yet i had to admit the indian's hookah usually gets into you before you realise
i remember seeing some polo mint dancing in the air
one after another and another and another
there was also some pina colada some french martini floating around
i lost track of the count
when jay-z start reminding us we stay forever young

i guess i didnt miss the afterparty after all
if yesterday is anything it is some frantic dancing some who-cares screaming giggling disc-jogging lahlahlahing blahblahblahing
was it someone's birthday?
i thought birthdays always the other word for FUN

"are you scared of college?"
"who isnt. its ridiculous not to be"
was i scared same day same time summer oh-nine?
melancholy's the word i'd pick
too busy reminiscing the gone option dating the bf befriending the stranger named THE FAMILY
i guess i would be scared if i actually realise im heading off to college
a brand new page in life
a step where all the past achievements the hard work you've paid gaining the perfect reputation
disappears like tracks in the snow on the first month of spring
i'm not scared.
i never was.
but as i walk thru it all, fearlessly
i started to panick, then freaked out (literally), cried until theres no more to cry about, missed so many lectures i feel like enjoying some sort of self-permitted gap year
then came the realisation
that i'm making my eighteenth year some sort of hell
this is so unfair
if fate is not gona make a change in itself
i am

so here i am, conversing with the to-be-freshman
rambling nonstop abt the best way to attempt the challenge of college
its impossible to stop myself from retelling the tale
of how i survived
but i also realised
theres no formula
even if i tried to be the saviour
all it takes is for you to seek
on your own, by yourself, fall and pick yourself up
and one day it will be your turn telling the same story
a little differently
but it would be the same...in some ways...in many ways

glad was i that i smiled listening to myself
finally proud of the pain
pitied was i that i didn't actually smile
i heard some granny's advice
it took me 6 months to grow up
it takes us half a life time to remain
forever young


who says i cant get stoned

everyday i look in the mirror
i see the reflection of some words in bold:

"never fear failure. fear your own cowardice"

taylor swift said fearless and it was platinumed

i still fear spider and its menacing legs. its not fair when some is born to move faster than the others.

its strange that some champagne supernova brought back scents of strawberry fields
some cold air on a british morning
some best days of my life

i still dont understand why no youtuber think apple pies' worth more than 5:00
i remember eating the best best pie of my life
and it doesn't feel like it's a miracle of some quickie
no miracles don't come in 5 minutes of chopping rolling baking

i dreamt of making my own creme brulee bruschetta apple crumble today
i'd like to keep making them in my dreams
until i stop turning jellos into beef
isnt that something
something more than turning water into wine?

5 mintues after i dashed out of bed
i found myself behind the wheels
driving 70mph on a highway
wondering what on earth is ahead
and why is june so constipated the time so congested

i find my urge for job hunting blog searching last between 2am-4am
that explains by unprolificness in living a life

i find everything so congested so constipated so suffocating now
that i decided to give my words some space





i think i am stoned.


i love.

i like to do/think anything that makes sense...at least to me

i still believe intuition comes before judgement....not that they don't sometimes go hand in hand
but u know, something has to go first

i love horses. i read every single ever-published version of Black Beauty when i was eleven.
i love the defined muscles the free-spirit them standing in their sleep the soft nuzzles the intelligent eyes the long legs the silent wishful gazes

i love tea biscuits, how they taste the same in every other brand, yet taste so different if u eat it in chunks/in bits/let it melt gently into thee tastebuds

i love white sheets, and a late morning tangling yourself in some wishing they are some sort of new web that u can stick to and never get away

i love bunnies and bears that don't wear anything aka stupid i heart sth clothes/ overrated ribbons

i love how you never see bunnies' mouth. yet their long ears distinguish them

i love wind-blown hair. a timeless hair trend.

i love hongkong. just name something this little place doesn't contain and i'm flying off to Mars with you

i love mars bar. not the mini ones, but the large overdose. this is the one time calories don't bother me

i love how i start to love cooking. the entire idea left me feeling as if I've eaten a Napoleon cake coated with berries having just staring at some

i love it when i say i love. it makes me feel loved

i love nicholas spark's last song. never has words bring so many private giggles

i love being alone in my room in a late afternoon not needing to plan to pack to wash to run an errand to buy some clothes to update some trends to worry about not being in the picture

i love the feeling of having to cook my own soba noodles in 30 minutes. it makes me feel like miss independent

i love the feeling of having the whole house to myself. no nagging parents no screaming kids no turn-off-the-air-con no blasting music (maybe a little john mayer)

i love not having to spend my day amongst clothes and air con aka in a mall. but i have a confession to make: the urge to watch a movie, a movie of any kind, is starting to heighten to an amateur orgasm

i love to have known what a lucky cigarette is.

i love my mum calling me just to tell me how great some iced coffee tasted.

i love the fact that im writing all this within ten minutes because i need no commas no spaces just a dash-straight from my heart

i love how im filling in some blank space with some invisible colours of happiness

i love the card we made for our aunt's birthday yesterday. i finally got the chance to try out my new faber-castell coloured-pencils.

the only thing i'd love to improve is the control of my appetite

i love that waking up doesn't mean waking up to a day of too much talking

i love being perfectly lonely

bye. i am going to make love to some soba noodles :D


no. nothing's wrong

questions in life come and go
some going off hand in hand with satisfying answers
like some miraculous discovery of one's true love
most others, though, are still out there wandering
seeking searching for that destined other half

"why do we have families"
are one of the very first riddles of me life
im the first of 3 others
before the contraception of my very first sister
i found myself dancing solely in the surreal limelight
i had all to myself one of the most memorable birthday parties with bunnies pigeons magicians themed clowns inclusive
then the big G decided to make me some company (the oh-so-considerate him)
yet theres this one thing that bothers me the most
you know how some people are born more solitude
i tend to attempt all one-on-one sports: aka swimming spiriting horsebackriding ice-skating skiing
dont even mention something-ball in front of moi. i'd be very happy to admit my hand-eye coordination's below average

and this thing about having a big FAMILY in ASIA
is one of the greatest tragedies if u just don't get the entire prerequisite bond theory
family are people that are genetically destined not to get along well
all the closely connected gametes, the 50-50% of certain characteristics (credits to my f.5 reproduction knowledge)
and the fact that like poles repel
this world is a confusion in itself

in economics, they say its all about choice
the more the alternatives, the closer the step to equilibrium
so family, in economics context, is some sort of natural monopoly
hence the over-rated authorities, control, values

family = no choice, supposed to be there for each other, a no to being yourself
even in some metropolitan city like hongkong
i find myself located in some of the most traditional families
where putting the good of THE FAMILY before one self automatically akins itsef to the first commandment
and if you dont abide
u automatically became the sinner.
and its not even funny.
(i didnt even try to justify my recent absence in sunday masses. some priest awe me please.)

everywhere everytime everysomehow
there will be some eyes somewhere
so when u do something like forgetting to turn off the lights before u leave a room
somebody will announce it at the dinner table
and u will be honoured the silent treatment for the rest of the night (and hopefully its ONLY for the rest of the night)
i'd like to demonstrate the holy system by naming just a few rules:
1. MUST turn off lights before you leave a room
2. NEVER turn on the air-con before after dinner
3. NEVER take baths for more than once/week
4. NEVER take more than 5 mintues to get to dinner table when dinner's announced
5. NEVER arrive later than the rest of the family
6. NEVER complain.
7. DONT justify. just narrate. even pure description will earn you some slap of stupidity in the face
8. DONT share information. if it's true they suspect you as know-it-all. if not, they dismiss it with some scorns some wtfs
9. DON'T pretend that you care. its always not the right time for you to be the angel.
10. NEVER EVER expect compliments. they are as rare as meteors. If you got one, congratulations, you've been crowned miss-arrogant without yourself even knowing it.

i'm not even being cynical. those days belong to the past. when i cared too much about something that's repellent to care of any sort.

and mum just knocked (no one knocks in my family. they think its abnormal to not have free access to everyone's privacy) put on this good-mum attitude and asked if anythings wrong

did something go wrong when u didnt speak at dinner just because everyone else's busy scattering ignorant comments childish bliss?
did something go wrong when you decided to shut up
as the only response you got from the father is some "so u dont know putonghua" when u mentioned u need to take some sort of examination and needed a tutor for some help
did something go wrong when u want to throw up spending one extra second in that suffocating scene
did something go wrong when all u want is to go back to your room and write and write and write and write and maybe cry a little

no. nothings wrong.
nothings wrong no more when theres no right

and the random discovery of some awesome music. attribute to the starry starry night. click on image


we are the world

to go out or not to?
who would have expected one to stay in on this almost annoying sultry day
after a week of summer-bound moodswings the hongkong skies throwing yet once again some of its usual tandrums some hongkonger fiddling with almost too much time
didn't we just said too little time a little too many times?
in the end
amist this summer summer starry nights
there's always a little too much time to waste

some songs just come and go
aka the O.M.Gs (still dont understand how it made itself onto the billboard. given that the billboards always nth more than THE billboard. pun intended)
some once loved maybe forgotten once hated, now liked
something like the new we are the world feat. JB
it strikes me as amazing how some songs just oozes in and out of ur life
( im loving the sound of the word ooze. it simply gives the whole action some sort of dancy grace)
i was 7 when i was awed by Lionel Richie's "there comes a time when we hear a certain call"
then it was forgotten, until some femal richie danced into the scenes with simple life. i was 17.
as i decided to spend this sultry day rummaging through certain messed up boxes of memories
i found, to my own surprise, some trace of last summer (or more accurately but less elegantly put - last semester)
the familiar words making the perfect soundtrack perfect reminiscence of the 1st semester of my freshman yr hall life
can u believe how addictive we are to the pain we've gone thru and tried so hard to forget?
i can.

and when i come to think of it,
i've never knew myself as well as i'm doing right now right here on the roof in this soothing summer breeze

ha. and i'll stop fiddling with time when everything goes well
the teeny weeny little perfect plan of mine

theres no rush in growing up. no stress. no pressure
theres no wrong in believing in we are the world

just dont be afraid to be alone.
its always some sort of pleasure some sort of honour and never ever guilt.

ultimate eye candy: Monique Lhuillier 2011 Resort collection

im not supposed to be hauling or blogging abt anything other than the words some smiles some tears and some rippling heartbeats but today, like everyother day since the last day of my finals
i was busing meself with daily updates of fashionfoeigras
and this utterly orgasming Monique Lhuillier 2011 resort collection woke my silent lust for gown glamour.

just be honest, how often do u come across resort collections with every piece being an eye candy as delicious as the one before the one after?

the chance is just as rare as rummaging through an entire box of godiva gold collection discovering little bits of heaven here and there

there goes the ultimate eye candy.

Monique Lhuillier Resort Collection 2011


Take me home, away from this tiny neat little box

i dont like explanations.
or, better put, justifications.
tho its a shame that these are the scenarios where words are most-frequently put into use.
oh-majesty words which are supposed to perform way more sacred duties
aka narrate. aka communicate. aka translate some foreign thoughts some floating theory some intangible daydreams
into something legible something more down-to-earth, or maybe, something more explicable in earth language.

Nicholas Sparks points out the one flaw in the perfect-high-school-cheerleader
"she puts shoes things people into neat tiny boxes"
in this case, i'd like to recommend my father as somewhat a pioneer for this kind of stereotypical school of thought.
from day one, i am shoved subconsciously into this teeny (given my size at birth) box labelled "A KID"
and surprisingly enough, I never managed to leave that box. I am eighteen going on nineteen in 3 months.
as I grew up, instead of replacing that teeny box I'm outgrowing, he decided to place more labels on it
little white stickers that read "arrogant" "ignorant" "noisy" "rebellious" "knows-it-all"
you know how it goes from there.
poor me, being inside this little cramped space, had no slightest idea of the scornful words that represents me. forget democracy. i never believe in such bullshit.
until one fine sunny day, i decided to wake up stand up look up from this happy little enclosure of mine, and take a little stroll out of this little box
who'd have known i'd be discovering the greatest secret (at least, to me it was and have always been one) of my life.
me living 15 years without knowing of all the eenie meenie white labels.
i tried. i pulled, tugged, even tried scratching off the words, every moment sitting wishing waiting for my heart to tell my eyes its all but an illusion.
but my heart sank a little further each time, some unseen labels came to sight.
then i ran.

i could have crawled back into the tiny warm box u know,
pretending that the incidental stroll's a wrong chapter in life
imagining that the box is the same inside out
and that he looks at me in the same way i do
that there's only one label that reads
"my loving daughter"

i ran non-stop for a year
scratched, bruised, torn myself into pieces
got myself tangled in some russell peters some Ali G some iran/iraqi conflicts some die hard 4.0 some haribos some cage fighting and hardcore french porno
occasionally landed in some german obsession some high-school sweethearts some not-meant-to-bes
sometimes i look back
and could still faintly make out the obscure words on the little what labels
sometimes i hope i didn't care
i long for the forgotten embraces the soft warm kisses and snowy white sheets
yet i always ask myself the same question
can you look into his eyes again the same way
i kept on running.

i ran out of money. i got myself a stomach ulcer. my german bf left me crying my heart out on the streets. some fucking bastard never return my calls. IB is a deep dark ominous abyss.
I trudged back to the little box
gave a sigh, crawled back in
from then on i never look him in the eye.

sometimes i hope words are deceiving
or maybe he didn't mean it like i thot he would
i'd still do my random strolls down the lane
secretly peeling down some of those persistent labels off the sides
(tho against my pride)
today i did something of that sort
only to realise
why the fuss
its not the labels that matters
the labels are already in his eyes.