but everyone can afford love

tom ford said its not a sin to shower 5 times a day

if you feel helpless, take the time of your life to put on a suit

put on your armor and go fight for something you believe in

then take it off

and immerse yourself in water

maybe in another medium

love will feel lighter

i didn't realize until he said the commitment

that i didn't want any ending like that.

She asked me to choose between fur and a ring

i want something to hold me tight to keep me warm when i feel cold

but love can only bring me the latter

He told me oh so brutally honestly

that he wanted a change, wanted some love, wanted a new start

i almost ripped my heart believing when i realize

thats exactly what i want as well

she said he wouldn't be able to afford what i want but he will try his best

but dear you

he couldn't even give me what he can afford because he felt too weary to try for love

how can i even borrow my heart to someone so poor

in morality

in the end

christmas is here again

last christmas

a family of 5 saved my soul

this year

i will try save the rest of them

為何仍是愛得隱隱作痛

we walked through my past.

its ridiculously funny how the road just unwinds itself tried telling its story in the dark

i didn't hear a thing he said

he didn't say it to me

when you've ran out of words ran out of touch ran out of breath tell me how to tell you whats happening right now right here

silence.

they all thought its the remedy.

i saw how silence killed some love

lets walk when its colder

so when some words do touch my soul, i can shiver it off and pretend its just the cold

its you

because your selfishness is my protection

because you are everything i am not and everything i am trying to get rid of

why still

because my selfishness feeds your guilt

so wrong

because we all want something we both don't want to give.

i wish i didn't know.

some best thing i haven't heard in a while

immersed myself in aquatic medium

maybe i can hear my thoughts better

it used to make me blush the pangs of guilt love shame washing upwards

until tears blur me vision

not any more

this time

i can look him in the eye and say whats on my mind

and then made a silent compromise

walking into a futureless reality

woke up, water dripping down my forelocks

i wrote what i cannot say

anticipated an ending. smiled. ready for whatevers ahead

some other reply

didn't change my mind

but its some best thing i haven't heard in a long time

i didn't come to savour whats said right and done wrong

just in case i wake up to another tomorrow

i had a very wonderful dream

a wandering mind

it was just supposed to be a causal stroll

through those words that once constructed my teeny universe

did words grew less effective

or did my world simply grew bigger

some dreams died, to make way for life

its easier that way.

though i am quite wrong. because everything only gets a little more difficult.

to smile to cry

everything seem to matter a little less

because there are others who meant much more

sometimes, just a very minute bit of moment

i wonder what really happened

i felt guilty for disrupting his world

i had my fair share of fun

and my equally fair share of pain

we are left bruised and confused

of whats awaiting

it would be more beautiful if its simpler

if you delve too deep

you'll just find yourself with a handful of nothingness

so stop where its still sweet and simple

these days

the only thing that still gives me goosebumps

tis the lingering feeling of that embrace

if you need sth to kick start the morning...i am here

Don't look back in anger

and after all, it takes just oasis to bring me back here

a land of memories

of tears in smiles

of pain in the rain

of wrongness stupidity ignorance

but oh how i wish

its as easy to stay foolish

as steve said

last year today

i am perfectly happy typing away alone in this little corner of bliss

blissful because i felt the possibilities of youth

when love is still a luxury and not yet a necessity

at least thats how it felt

beatles are right when they say

yesterday

when he told me we've been there done that and its time to let go

I believed

that no matter how much love how much pain

tried to burn out the flick of youth

time will heal

memories will be replaced

we will eventually forget

the worst and remember the rest

for now

i'll try

to love those who loved me

to forsake those who abused my love

my love,

tell me

how to keep love strong when life gets crazy

but why, we are just human

today, i discovered something sad
the saddest part is, its always her smile that triggers my pain
its mad
i know
but i hate every single part of her
its as if our happiness is mutually exclusive
and never shared
stop it.
this is starting to sound evil.
I thought I am everything but, but no, I'm just human.


A little part of me knows I'm responsible for everything
for his mourning her naggings his silence her fury
I am dumb enough to believe he actually meant well
sometimes I wish I can continue to play dumb
so my fairy tale will not collapse on me and suffocate the stars
as if tearing alone is not painful enough
god invented something called truth.

truth is, we are still given the privilege to dream
dream big, live humble; act mature, think young
did they ever consider
the consequences of liberty
of democracy, of change
that its a finite piece of space

they mould our thoughts, so we become warriors of maybes
all armed up, crusades of ideals
until the world worn us out
stripped us down to our bare selves
and we stood there, naked, embarassed, ashamed
for who we are

because, in the end, we are all human.

101 on growing up

i used to not be afraid of anything
of trying of failing of feeling

now because some stupid self said she wants to know more to know it all
and now she've seen it she's scared
of becoming of choosing of learning of believing

all the elements needed to make her grow
she keeps on turning the pages
reminicisng the smiles wondering wuts the secret behind
she forgot time goes forward and no ones left behind

she was soaked in tears torn and pained
wants to know the way back again
and maybe this time
oh just this time
she can finally learn

its time to grow

its raining its pouring

my muse told me
dont be afraid,
of knowing
of trying
of making mistakes

i feel so sick of myself
of doing all the above
it makes me want to run and hide
in memories of yesterday

i tried doing the same things that used to leave me speechlessly enchanted
but the harder i rummage, the harder i fall
into icy cold relfections of reality
and shadows of missing smiles

if this place is perfect
why am i only smiling in my dreams

write on

the wind was blowing in our faces when we walked down memory lane, with our heads buried in the present and our mouths nibbling at the future

"when you have no idea, fall back into reality"

"i can't do something without a reason"

sometimes, i have to admit, reality is suffocating. everyday i wish to wake up to a new beginning, only to realise i've fallen deeper into vices. my new remedy to uncertainty is butter, my spring soundtrack the chirping of birds outside my window, blending in is my new superpower. i've learnt to end smalltalk with a worn out smile.

she said "even if you don't give a shit about the world, there must be one thing, the very one particular thing, you do care about"

it took me three drafts, a truck load of courage, some more to stop myself from backspacing everything and pretend i don't need this space, these words to save me.

but i do. and if there's one thing i do care about, its me and my words.

because unlike everything else thats happening, i do care about this huge white empty space, and the fact that something as simple as black letters can make sense out of nothingness.

because you cannot write about something if it doesn't feel right. if it doesn't touch your heart.

it's as simple as that.

so, sorry but i cannot let reality numb my heart. i have to write on.

lets imagine this is a story and we'll always be playing a part of it

the making of a dream

i was adding butter into some yellow sludge called banana cake when suddenly, out of the blue, i asked my sister "what does home feel to you"

she said "this is home"

I remember the thing closest to home, is the red roses i see in paris, the chill air I felt when i stepped out of claridges

i kept stirring the mixture, my mind as cloudy as the white foam

i felt so wrong when everything is so right

"maybe someday, I'll write."

"i'll open a bakery, one section labelled homemade, the other patisserie."

"you think its hard to make a movie? even one with a small budget?"

" i think its sad to stop dreaming"

and the kitchen was suddenly immersed in the smell of a sweet answer.

dream on girl

today, i decide, its not worth it

to make pretend that its time to give up your dreams when thats the only reason why you've been living

to hurt the ones you love

to lose your words your smile your time

this might be wrong

but if its all it takes to dream on

i'll take the plunge.

we are born to forget -but only the worst and lets remember the rest.

yup. i survived another breakdown.
am currently on med and a new lifestyle.

the winter blue's been haunting a little too long
i wish spring can take the plunge and let the buds blossom so we can all be reminded how beautiful we still are

i once wrote to a girl "we are born to forget"
i am right but also so wrong
because we tend to forget the best together with the worst.
we forget the reason why we smiled
we forget the ones who deserve your love
instead poured too much time into those who threw it all down the drain
we forget we traded tears for every heartbeat we skipped
we forget how it felt like to fall head over heels for someone something some song some promise
and how good it is to be home.

it took some love from brown, some words from sherborne, a flood of confessions and some belated talk to recall the best

so for now, i'll take it easy and try to remember the rest

i wish. i knew.

do you sometimes feel that you're remembering
a you thats very far away
and the one that looks back in the mirror
doesn't feel familiar
no sadness involved. just different. just not the same.

i used to fall head over heels for things i like
now that i learnt how to control my desire
the enchanted feeling seemed so foreign
i wish i can stop falling out of love
and find my way back in.

i wish i knew where to begin
but how would it be possible when i don't even know how it ended
it's just like how the gloomy winter's lingering a little too long
i don't want to make this numbness permanent

so i say a little prayer
and wish that on the morning when the sun decide to shine again
i can recall
the reason behind the effortless smiles

foolproof

he repeated something i quote randomly

"words come easy when they're true"

it took me more than 3 drafts before this post gets published. the struggle is: i wonder what i want to make permanent. the memories? the pain? or its aftermath? i realise, its really only the love.

when i decide to go through my 25 most-played songs on this warm sunday morning, the pages of yesterday flipped like the feb issue of elle i've been reading over and over again for god knows how many times already. i like to label my happenings with their own soundtracks. loop a john mayer jackjohnson and you can indoctrinate yourself that it once felt as good as it had been. tug the crumbs of bliss gently underneath somewhere so it doesn't bother you no more.

when you can't decide whats right for the moment, stick with what's fool-proof.

for me, is the equivalent of demin, grey blazer, chanel and myself.

currently loving:

1. The Dream Factory: Inside Perfums Christian Dior by Camilla Akrans

credits to Industrie Magazine 2

yes, i'll do it for love

sometimes, i wonder how long i'd be stuck in this traffic looking out of the windows wishing if only i could be on the other side

other times, i wish i could just feel safe in this confined comfort zone

right now, lets forget how we feel and immerse ourselves in sarah bareilles and english pear cologne

the echos of an email

Dear _____,

to be honest, i do feel the same. Its hard to complain when everything is so supposedly perfect, but somehow there's always this strange feeling haunting me that it's not enough. Or maybe its the fear that I might not be able to sustain such a lifestyle with my own competence that kept me troubled at times. The best way to put it: growing up is a mixed feeling. especially when you're 19, it often feels like you're stuck in the middle of an annoying traffic, often wondering how you got here, not knowing whats hindering you, and not knowing whats ahead.

My dad, oh well, i know hes the best piece of advice but he could be as stubborn as a mule. i used to oppose him a lot just for the sake of making sure he's not the only one talking. but either its me who's getting older or its him or both of us, it seems like there's nothing to fight about these days. the house seems strangely quiet now.

yup. i'm 19. i hope i look as mature as i sound (haha) but really, if you get to know me, i'm everything but mature. maybe it's the way i talk. as for your deep questions, i guess its the aftermath of your mind-refreshing spiritual trip. fortunately enough i'm a thinker too and yes i've questioned myself so many times i'm starting to get used to the confusion. i used to get all worked up and felt very uncomfortable for being in the wrong place or doing the things that are just not me. but then i start to realise the rebel in me is actually my motivation. and like i've said, we are always curious of whats happening on the other side of the world. maybe we just need to pretend we are visitors living our lives through foreign eyes. then things like burning your own fireplace would sound more interesting than it really is.


p.s i hope little things like this email (/blogpost) can light up your day :)


helen

tarte aux pommes

if my mother's my muse, my sister's my superwoman

a random call from sherborne made my day, along with the settled plans of meeting up in london around may-ish. with people here and there and everywhere these days, this is indeed something worth looking forward to.

and just as i'd like to call it a day, a sweetheart from the states confessed her loneliness along with some catching ups and morning/midnight blabber. a proof of it all: a post-it on top of my table lamp scrabbled with a to-be psychiatrist's number. talking about friends for benefit.

for a long time in a long while. it felt like what it used to be. safe and sound.

is it the over-sized lavander carpet or the excess warmth from a sizzling heater? everything looked just like a year ago but it hardly felt anything similar.

************************************************

as i woke up to an unexpectedly warm sunday morning, i decided to turn some pages back to the regina spektor days. and the list goes on: dido, norah jones, kt tunstall. so london. so paris.
even the air smelt like its time to make a debut on tarte aux pommes.

everything happened according to plan, until i realise i got everything but the short pastry. and how can tarte aux pommes happen without the tart? so a simple task of picking up stuff ended up with an extra half-an-hour drive to the nearest frozen food counter.

apples are best served in their simplest form. (i remember i read that somewhere but if i didn't, well, consider it a good homemade quote). and to work the applepie x tarte aux pommes magic i decide to replace all that french custard with cognac with mere mushed boiled apple sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon.

its funny how things fall into place: the wrong pan lemon-less dicing an extra pinch of salt here and there slicing failure rose apples instead of granny smith

i tell myself: if this is possible, i'll get myself a julia child cookbook and enroll in a self-taught 6 credit course on french cooking 101.

and voila! bon appetite.

i need sleep

sometimes i feel like im living in an asylum

im tired of this guessing game

i am not sick. or mad. or angry. or sad.

i am just me. or do u know me at all?

please dont say doctor in front of me again or i swear i will go craxy, this time for real.

the answer is simple: i'm just growing up. please don't judge. give it time. no more tears.

thank you for all the love.

but too much of everything is poison.

please don't be ashamed of our love

so, should we be begin with a recount?

though i decided to summarize the week as mediocre just a few days ago, it took no more than a single night to turn it all around. see, now it is an understatement to laugh at life and call it a rollercoaster. i think its more analogical to the 9 degree mornings we're experiencing again. yes, we are still living in hongkong.

the night before began with a spontaneous meet up with a long lost girlfriend. apparently iceland and a new boyfriend's the ultimate antidote to heartbreaks. a year ago we did exactly the same thing, only blueberry chessecakes got substituted by warm pear tart and crunch cake; long island by rosé; confusions with contentment.

late-summer memories do haunt me still when i pass by the familiar spots, but i've decided to let the past stay where they belong and twirl flutter laugh my way into a pleasant birthday, only to decide the musics too loud the champagne's flowing too slow small talk overload. though we never remember where we ended up i do remember your hand in mine and mine in yours and nothing really mattered.

things do happen for a reason, even though they never happen accordingly. things like an unexpected reply from an overdue silence, the bag of thompson raisin sitting seductively in the fridge. things i once never paid attention to, things i cared a little too much for.

if i could only pick one lover to spend the winter with, it would be my heater.

but i don't know how i feel anymore

i used to get pretty worked up when i realise i did something as rash as waking up at 7 for some bs.

not that i dont anymore, well since chilling is now trending, i'll pass.

then i decided to vent my frustration/call it a pretty mediocre week planting khahi roses on the tips of my fingers, paying my friend the doc a little visit and sealed the deal for sister's birthday surprise

i always wanted to watch that episode of SATC. the last bit. but i just couldn't. you can call this savouring the very last bit of a fading holiday. but a little part of me cant wait to put last semester all behind me. trust me, im glad its said and done.

they say new year new resolutions. i say new semester new attitude.

30 credits plus some chinese philosophy some introduction to psychology. i guess i'll need that bit of SATC sooner than expected.

oh and before i say ciao, lets sing dance fight against this craxy cold. i don't like the fact that its turning my heart into an icy lolly. how can i know how i feel anymore?

to my love, my love and my love - get well soon.

current favourites

1. leighton in missoni s/s '11

courtesy of fashionising.com

2. lily and lionel scarves - ballet in cream

more at lily and lionel

norwegian wood afterthought

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."
— Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore)

:)

due to 9 degree Celsius
i succumbed to socks.

worn out by the cold. its a love-hate relationship. i love how the freezing air frosts all feelings. for a week, my heart felt numb. you can poke it break it tear it and i don't feel a thing. i used to think winter's the time when the we feel most needy. for that hug for the warmth for the company. maybe its the best time for heartaches since, oh-well, you don't feel too much of anything anyways.

last night, someone's voice left me warm and snuggly.

oh before i start wondering if you really meant what you said, i just want you to know

you made me smile.

goodnite love. sleep tight and sweet dreams.

i'll blame it on the cold

ok. i'll blame it on the cold.

usually i'd die for the little anxiety the little affection the agony from your silence

and since when did i began to feel afraid

of too much love too much truth too much smile

i don't understand why the things i used to like don't stirr my heart like they used to. then i find myself going through the pain of looking for new heartaches. how i wish it'd be more simple.

had an amazing afternoon chillaxing with an old friend, small talking about life and making up new blabber such as once in a whiles. we both agreed that the pain will go and we will find what we deserve. its just a matter of numbers - time and people in between.

i guess in the end, we all know who's the most favourite. pity is, hes not a keeper. truth is, love is never found in keepers. we are all children who eventually get tired of their favourite toys.

talking about toys. today i ran through a bunch of them. the old me will begin reminiscing. the new me simply starts replacing memories with spaces. yes. i prefer cold empty spaces than tangible tear-attracting trashy memories.

because when one day i decide to forget, i'd just wipe out this blog. words are easier to handle.

i surprised myself when i told a certain he through e-mail: i was never good with feelings.

i simply toy with them, give them a cuddle and leave like it never happened.

i thought everything was way better before me came along. i thought the beginnings are always happier than the ends. in the beginning, it all began with an "I" then some "he" crashed into our lives and somehow it ended up being a "we" but usually not for long.

please tell me how to put up with your imperfections. i can't even stand my own.

it happened.

what happened?

when denial became the norm and plan Bs start replacing plan As and you never get to see those who matter but those you don't give a shit starts plaguing your time, you lost track of sanity

no, its not a matter of fact that your heart failed to give you answers. its either you're too much of a blabber to listen, or you're too much of a coward to give in to the wants and not to the shoulds. or maybe you are just too used to being let down it doesn't matter anymore eh?

to those who made the last month of last year livable: you are the stars of my universe.

i used to think that when the shooting stars leave my soul stranded, thats the time when the hollowness sinks in.

but fortunately and unfortunately, i've gotten to like this solitude.

i thought i told you i m worn out by my own smiles.



til then, lets love like it never hurt.

morning blabber

a week ago, tugged safely away in my little heaven, i got used to jumping out of the white covers walking into the barelylit dawn. the cloudless skies are still turning in its sleep, i love leaving dimples along the shores.

i listened to the sea breathe.

the wind whispered.

i closed my eyes.

my mind is blank.

i let the tides wash away the pain. i forgot.

i walked all the back. i couldn't find the memories.

i loved. i lived.

morning, world.

lost but found

today, i found something i've lost.

it all began with a good loaf of raisin rye from Ceres Boulangerie et patisserie, smoking hot, promising and with love from my muse. i can't remember since when did sitting on the kitchen counter bathing in the morning sun small talking with the other half who shared my love for flour felt oh-so-right. maybe all the super sad love songs drowned out the other kinds of love.

some 5 days spent with family in a heavenly maldives began with dreadful expectations. it would be an overstatement if i said i hesitated before prioritizing family over..him and the fun and the hypercrazy sober-less life. but sometimes things just fall into place without expectations' hindering.

some kind of love just come and go (and they are usually those you thought most important); others silently sit wait and wish it'll cure you when you're in pain.

today began with some loaf of rye and ended with more. nothing beats dad's angelic smile when the light wheat rye descended from its iron cage. the warm smell the sweet laughs the shared love.

happy new year


p.s. my new year resolution: drive more frequently to Ceres Boulangerie et patisserie so maybe (oh plessshhh) i could bump into this amazing man who turned my mornings into heaven...

new

lets pretend, it all ended with the year that passed. new year, new start eh?
so i'd begin the year with the NEWs:

starting with

a new haircut

a new hole puncher

some new emotions

a new breakfast

and perhaps a new you.


p.s. if u can pretend to forget, i can pretend to live you-less. how harder can that be?