Love(well, most of it)

Have you ever been in a situation where you love someone so much that you hate them? I probably might not seem to make much sense at the moment, but trust me, it can happen. It’s like, you really love that person, but they’ve made a mistake which hurt you so much, but you still love them, and you hate them for making you feel so weak (in love). I don’t only mean the love between a man and a woman, any kind of love; mum-kid, dad-kid, brother-sister, etc.

Love in itself can be a very confusing thing; it cannot be defined in words. How can you describe the feeling of willingness to do anything for the other person in simple words? I, for one have not been capable of describing that feeling, be it familial or outside. It MIGHT be due to the fact that I’m only 16 and new to the ways of the world, I dunno.

When you love someone, you are prepared to forgo anything just for them, just to be with them. It’s great when the other person feels the same too, but sometimes, just sometimes, they don’t. What they feel doesn’t even come close to what you’re feeling, and that spells trouble with a T.
This may sound cynical, but I think loving someone and showing them is a sign of weakness. It really is, until you’re sure that they feel the same too, or people tend to take advantage of you.

It happens especially when people don’t love you the way you love them. Having observed so many over these years, I can safely conclude that even the best-behaved saint has a mean streak hidden somewhere that causes him or her to act in a somewhat evil way when given a chance. I’d say that by admitting your weakness to a person of whom you’re not very sure of is practically paving a path to your downfall.

This doesn’t mean I’m going to go around being cold and hostile towards everyone, but I’ll just, well, be civil and as nice as possible without revealing too much to anybody except my really trustworthy friends. And that doesn’t mean I’m accusing the rest of you as being untrustworthy, it’s just that I haven’t come to a stage where I can actually trust anyone fully.

Not like anyone cares, right? I mean, you’re all probably gonna argue hotly with me on this and then just go about your work. Sigh, I’m slowly growing tired of life as a whole and I might just do the craziest thing like run off to Russia in the middle of the freezing winter. I don’t really know what I’m talking about….i lost it all a few minutes ago and I’m just talking nonsense at the moment, I think…..my hands always seem to have a brain (or a lack of it) of their own.

Oh well, all I wanna say is that I’m tired of a predictable life in a tiny city and that I want to do the bigger things in life, I want to broaden my horizon.

It’s getting harder and harder to find decent people nowadays, and I hope they all don’t go extinct before I die. After that, they can all fall off a cliff for all I care. Gosh, I’m selfish, and retarded, cuz what I’m saying seems to be making no sense whatsoever. Oh well, I think you all have probably got the idea of what I was attempting to convey, or so I hope. I shall log off now and leave you all in blissful peace.

Wishes

It’s a beautiful rainy and I’m feeling romantic. Trust me, it’s a PAIN to feel romantic and flirty when you’re single and lonely. Ok, I sound like a total desperate, pathetic person, and I’m NOT. (Sarah, don’t you DARE comment on this)

So I shall dedicate this entry to some of my deepest wishes. I wish I could go back in time to Victorian England and be a Duke’s daughter having her season. I’d like to wear elegant gowns and go to balls and dance the night away with a dozen or more chivalrous, eligible bachelors.

Then I’d like to take a moonlit walk by the garden and have him tell me I’m the most beautiful woman ever and propose on the spot. (It DID happen then.) I’d naturally look away shyly and agree. Then he’d kiss me under the light of the beautiful full moon.

I wish I could be kidnapped by a ruggedly handsome pirate (Preferably Jonathan Hale J) and sail the oceans all year round. We could make love watching the sunset and he could teach me how to swim in the early mornings. We’d make breakfast out on the deck and then spend the whole day in blissful lovesickness. Then when he loots other ships, I could watch from the deck and maybe even help the crew fight them, dressing up as a man. That would be soooooo exciting.
Sigh, actually, it would take forever to write out all my wishes. What I REALLY want is to get married to a devoted, tall (no one below 1.7m), muscular (six-packs VERY welcome) guy with hair like Philippe’s and have 3 kids, or more; I don’t really mind…I LOVE kids.

I want to stay at home all day and write, and I’d like nothing better than to see my novels in print. I’d use a pseudonym, of course, so that nobody would know it’s me, save a few really close friends. I want to have enough money so that I can travel all around the world, from the snowy mountains in Switzerland to the deserts of Africa.

Then, using the experience gained from my travels, I’d set up a charitable organization to help people in 3rd world countries. I wish some really rich producer likes my books and decides to make them into movies, and I’d request for some of my friends with exceptional acting skills to star in the movies. It would give me immense satisfaction to see poor people being able to receive decent education and live, my kids become wonderful men and women, and my friends great actors, lawyers, whatever.

I’d also sign up to be a foster mum so that I can help kids from broken homes and give them all the love I have in my heart.And then I’d be truly grateful if people shed a few tears at my funeral and remembered me as a person who made a difference in their lives. With all the above achieved, I’d close my eyes peacefully upon the world.

Tomorrow may never come,
For us one day
The sun may never rise,
We’ll have nothing else to say.

Tomorrow may never come,
For chores put off
For promises unfulfilled,
At the idea you might scoff.

Tomorrow may never come,
For the words untold,
For the love undeclared,
That person you’ll never hold.

Tomorrow may never come,
For the apology you owe,
For the fights unresolved,
The seed you’ll never sow.

Tomorrow may never come,
To kiss that cheek you love,
To hold that hand you adore,
To watch the flight of the dove.

Tomorrow may never come,
But you can make it all right,
Go tell him your love,
Go resolve that fight.

Here's a poem i wrote a while ago :)

Inspiration

Yesterday, I watched a very inspiring and informative movie, Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi. It taught me a great deal of things, including the fact that I know little about the land of my ancestors. I should say I’m quite ashamed of that. Actually, if this were about 2 years ago, I wouldn’t really have cared…it’s not like I’m going to live in that poverty-stricken (so I used to think) anyway, but now, after reading the joy luck club and analyzing it for 2 years, I have learnt how important it is to know one’s culture. Like the Suyuan told Jingmei, “ It is in your bones, waiting to be let go.” This is a VERY true statement.
After watching the hardships of my fellow countrymen (I can say that, can’t I? After all, we’re both of the same race, if not nationality) in the fight for freedom, I just sort of got inspired. If a small man as Gandhi wearing nothing but a loincloth and a shawl could have become famous all over the world just by being peaceful, why can’t I?
In August, I read up on female circumcision, out of curiosity, and I was appalled. It happens in most parts of Egypt, and it’s a highly unfair and selfish thing to do. They apparently think that women shouldn’t experience sexual pleasure, as it is not right.The clitoria and part of the labia are cut off and the rest pulled and sewn together to close the vagina, leaving only a single opening for the urine and blood during menstruation. When they get married, the husband tears open the part sewn together and then penetrates. It is sewn up again when they're pregnant. I was practically crying out in pain when i read it. They call it cleansing, and do it when the girls are 6. No anasthesia is used, and the girls are expected to just stand up and continue with life right after the 'cleansing' ceremony.
They say they do it to discourage women from engaging in extra-marital affairs. Bullshit, I call it. They just want an excuse to keep the women under their control. Why is it that for male circumcision, they don’t do anything to mar their sexual pleasure, if it IS bad? So, when I read about this and was so determined to do something to stop all this from happening, people told me to give it up. They asked me, ‘What can you, a single girl, do?’ At that time, I accepted their reasoning, but now, the fire is burning brightly again. I must, I WILL do something to stop it. If a single man could move a nation through peaceful protests, I can too. I will try my best to do something before I die, to help these women, to educate them and make them somebody.

Men

Last week, I TRIED to get my upper lip threaded, but after a couple of ‘twists’, I was tearing badly, and well, sorta stopped. No, this is not going to be an entry on beauty or anything, but on MEN. I took one look at my teary eyes and decided that the reason women have cried for centuries and continue to cry now, is, MEN. Yes, those creatures that walk alongside us on the road, which vary in shapes and sizes.
Those who have the capability of making us laugh, and in the next minute, cry. Those who can make even the strongest of women go weak in the knees, lose themselves, and become emotional wrecks.
Isn’t it enough that they have ruled over us through history? They still do, but in a different form. Millions of women are spending millions of dollars just to look good for the men every second. This is an indirect form of male chauvinism, I would say. We wouldn’t bother to wear make-up, remove all our body hair, wear killer stilettos that hurt our poor feet, and starve ourselves thin if there were no men in this world.
Just think about it, every woman secretly wants to be admired by the men, and she takes care to look her best all the time, and some just go overboard. Why do we do all this? Simple. MEN. Which man wants an unkempt woman whose moustache can rival Stalin’s?
This society only accepts stick-thin, made up women who look like dolls, and I really don’t understand why. I might bleach my whole face and burn my eyebrows, but inside, aren’t I the same person? Changing our face does not change our heart, but we spend so much time, money and effort just so that we look good. For the men.
Women collapse everywhere everyday as a result of not eating enough or end up having damaged hair and skin as a result of overuse of cosmetics. Women everywhere shed tears while getting their whole body waxed or their eyebrows plucked. The wires in push up bras injure women; they get rashes from wearing ‘pretty’ thongs. We don’t mind killing our leg and back just to please the men. Isn’t this a clear example of the men’s tyranny? They, who treated us as properties back in the 1700s, make us do all this now, for their viewing pleasure. Is this necessary, I ask. How can we say we are independent when really, we’re almost like slaves of men. Is dressing up and injuring ourselves in the process for the men independence? I don’t think so.
Oprah once featured a couple of young girls (4 year-olds) who were obsessed with the way they look. One of them always looked at herself in the mirror and complained that she was fat and ugly. The need to impress the men has even hit the kids; this is a world problem as important as peace or nukes.
What good is a woman who’s ‘perfect’ on the outside, but an insecure, nervous Nellie inside? What makes this situation worse is that men want these beautiful, ‘perfect’ women, but they complain that the women spend too much of money on cosmetics. How, I ask, did they achieve that ‘perfect’ complexion to catch your eye in the first place?
Yeah, we could stop spending time, money and tears doing all these things, but the real decision lies with the men. They’d rather go for the vivacious vixen than the plain Jane; it happens everywhere, every day, every minute, every second. If we are to stop hurting ourselves so much, the men have to stop criticizing first.
A real man would even go for a gorilla girl if she has the right attitude and a beautiful mind. Men, you’ve made us cry for years, and I really think it’s time you stopped. Open your eyes and really see…. you’ll find that some of us look much better than the made-up, plastic-looking ones.

Ramblings of an old man

I sit by the side of the road and watch them walk past, burdened by heavy cases, monsters perched in their ears. They all seem to be running somewhere, not giving a second’s notice to this old man sitting all alone by the side.
They’ve all been programmed by some unknown superior power, and they do whatever they’ve been programmed to do; nothing more, nothing less. They’re but mere non-living things. I laugh at this thought and one of the younger ones gives me a weird look before hurrying away to his world filled with monsters and responsibility where the word peace cannot even be contemplated in a dream.
I’ve seen the way these things relate to one another, detached, distracted conversation that lacks any emotions. It’s as though they’ve been programmed not to show any outward signs of emotion. I expect they’ll produce generations of clones who act just like they do, because that’s all they’ve known. The females of their species are not capable of giving the amount of love my Martha gave me.
Ah, Martha, my dear Martha. Why did she leave me so? She should have known that I couldn’t survive alone in this world of aliens. They condemn me, call me crazy, and ostracize me from society. Not like I’d want to join in anyway.
Those good old days, when peace and joy was all the rage and cell phones were unheard of…I still mourn the loss of those days. Love has died out, everyone now -they can’t even be classified as humans- is too busy to spare a minute to slow down and look around. No, they’re too occupied with material needs that really don’t last. They’ve lost what makes them human in the quest of acquiring all that they can hold on to, and more that they can’t.
I pity the younglings, never getting to see their mama at least once a day. They’re killing not only the love in their hearts, but also killing that in the tender hearts of the kids. Oh, I would love to give them a piece of my mind, but I’m unheard here. They wouldn’t listen to what an insane old man has to say, they’d straightjacket me. But then, I’d rather be locked up than roam free in this cold, hostile world.
Everywhere I turn, I see a straight, serious face cast of marble. Where is laughter, I wonder…I hear a giggle!
It’s coming from the other side. I get up and hobble towards the source of the noise. I hear it again, “ Robert, catch me if you can.” She’s running now, across the road towards the railings. She climbs up on it, motions for me to follow her and jumps over.
Martha! My dear Martha’s back, to give me all the love I just wished for, a while ago. Oh, the mercy of the heavens!
“ I’m coming, Martha!”
I run towards the railings too, and they all stop to watch me. “ Hey, man, don’t jump.”
One of them comes forwards. How dare they try and prevent me from going to my Martha! I turn my back on him and jump. I hear a splash somewhere, shouts from above.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I sputter and struggle, gasping for air.
Then I see her, my Martha, holding out her arms to welcome me. “Just close your eyes and drift away, it’s fun,” she whispers as she smiles her angelic smile. I believe her. Slowly, I find myself drifting into a dreamless sleep, I feel weightless. Then I feel her hands encircle me, holding me tight. “It’s alright now, Robert darling. You’ve come home.”

Trust

Trust. It is usually defined as one’s strong belief in something. I don’t think anyone or anything in this world can actually be trusted, because everything is subject to change. If you have trust in something, you believe in it. You rely on your faith of that thing or person, but if the very thing you trust changes, as is the characteristic of everything on this earth, how can it be trusted?
When you trust, say, a person, you have confidence in their abilities and convictions, so you trust them for whatever characteristics they might have at that moment. These characteristics will definitely change come the time, and you’ll have to change the way you trust them as the trust you had in them when they had their old characteristics is not valid anymore.
It is the same thing for an object. You trust that the calculator gives you the right results, but one day, the internal wiring or whatever is subject to change, usually for the worse. This means that you have to change the way you trust it, and in this case, you’ll have to stop trusting it, as it does not give you the right results anymore. Alternatively, you could get it repaired and then start trusting it again, but then, the initial trust you had in it will never come back.
With the above examples I can say that your degree of trust in something or someone will keep decreasing every time they change, and it will decrease by a certain degree every time you are made to change the way you trust something, as the initial level of trust can never be revived. This is because you’ve been made to change the way you trust something all of a sudden when you had so much trust in it. The very fact that the thing changed makes it untrustworthy, as it did not live up to your trust as you’d thought it would.
I would say then, that trust is merely an illusion created by us in order to feel secure. Humans have always wanted something to hang on to at any one time, and the thing we call trust is very much welcome as it makes us feel free. It makes us feel less burdened to be able to unload our emotions or push the responsibility onto something or someone we trust, and thus, I would say that trust is merely an excuse created by us for our own survival.
Therefore, I conclude that you can’t actually trust anything in this world, and that trust is just an illusion we have created for ourselves. Trust then doesn’t exist.
This is a crazy article i wrote this morning cuz i was just feeling bored. I know i'm not a philisopher and that this doesnt sound prefessional at all, so don't berate me or anything.

MY FIRST BLOG ENTRY IN 2006

Ok, this is my first ever blog entry for the year 2006, or maybe my second....or third....i might have forgotten.
Anyway, today was the day of the Biology O level and it was GOOD.I think i might even get an A1! *gasp*
Ahhh, i like this text much better.Ok, i used to have a blog two years ago, and i sort of abandoned it, and last year, i stopped writing in mine after august. This time i hope i have the descipline to keep it going atleast till um...next April?
Fair enough.
Hm...actually i dont have anything much to write about actually....hm...i COULD write about myself...but loads of you already know about me. Actually, there is NO you. i dont even have any readers yet, but i'll gradually get some, most of whom would be my friends and maybe a couple of random bloghoppers, but that's about all.
Ok, firstly, i'm not a very interesting person, so i shall try my best to make my entries as interesting as possible, and if all else fails, post a poem from my collection that's slowly nearing a 100..(which means that it hasnt gone past 60 yet, YET). And if all of you start throwing eggs and tomatoes at me for being such a boring person, i'll just rattle on and on and get even more boring and then you'll shout, "ENEMY, TRAITOR, THROW HER INTO THE RIVER!", carry me (you'll need about 10 ppl to do that, or maybe more...be prepared anyway.) and throw me into the miserably shallow Singapore River and since it is so miserable shallow, i'll SURVIVE!
And then i'll come back and post more boring blog entries and bore you out till you fall asleep and declare that i'm not your friend at all.
Ok, Bhuva, that's about enough of your nonsense.
There, now i've given you a taste of how boring i can be, so do come back and be bored by me!
Cya.