| I Got Bitten |
[25 Jul 2008|12:26am] |
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mood |
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 depressed |
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| Mark These Words |
[23 Jul 2008|11:57pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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I'm listening to old jamming studio recordings of my first band, A Butterfly Caught.
In this order:
1. Ghosts Before Breakfast
2. Spaceship Sonnet
3. People's Exhibit A
4. Isolation
5. Electric Bolt Antidote
6. Stage of the Vacant
7. Stage of the Vacant Part II
8. The Emo Song (yeah we never got a better title)
9. Televators (Mars Volta cover)
And I remember a tenth song that was never recorded. "The Void Called Home".
FUCK why did we never record a fucking album? I'm hearing this stuff a fucking year later, and it's still amazing.
Just as he hit the ground
They lowered a tow that
Stuck in his neck to the gills
Fragments of sobriquets
Riddle me this:
Three half-eaten corneas
who hit the aureole?
Stalk the ground
Stalk the ground
You should have seen
The curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete
Stained walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé
A capillary hint of red
Only this manupod
Crescent in shape has escaped
The house half the way
Fell empty with teeth
That split both his lips
Mark these words
One day this chalk outline will circle this city
Was he robbed of the asphalt that cushioned his face?
A room colored charlatan hid in a safe
Stalk the ground
Stalk the ground
You should have seen
The curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete
Stain walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé
A capillary hint of red
Only this manupod
Crescent in shape has escaped
Pull the pins
Save your grace
Mark these words
On his grave
You should have seen
The curse that flew right by you
Page of concrete
Stain walks crutch in hobbled sway
Auto-da-fé
A capillary hint of red
Everyone knows the last toes are
Always the coldest to go
The only song we ever covered and I love how kids used to react to it at our gigs every single week. We were one of those bands that insisted on the lights being switched off and only using our own orange lamps to light up the stage, which we'd shove in along with our equipment in the back of Pat's lorry. AND we were one of those bands that brought our own amps if the gig venue was big, because we practically lived in our own jamming studio and were so used to our own sound that we didn't want to compensate it for anything. Or maybe we just like showing off the flashy Ibanez. :)
And I still fucking love my song titles.
Stage of the Vacant Part II wasn't exactly creative but hey, it was separated from a fifteen-minute long song we called "Epic"(the first part was named the obvious), so it really was the second part of a song.
It's just too bad the members were all angsty and had some sort of issues with each other. Or we probably would have done something really substantial right now. When am I going to get to write great music with talented people who are not a big bunch of babies? Naz Jaan, hurry, we need to work on Mmaveriq and the project with Kamal!!! Every time we intend to jam nowadays something crops up or we end up just eating and growing into a fat couple.
Damn.
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| Static Rhythms |
[23 Jul 2008|11:23pm] |
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mood |
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 bouncy |
] |
Khaal let me steer the van tonight, and change gears for him! I screamed at every corner and bump in the road, and he laughed and called me a gong-gong.
I proudly told Naz Jaan as soon as I got home, and he immediately forbade me from ever trying to drive Khaal's or anyone else's vehicle ever again. If anything happens to me, he wants it to be on his hands only, he said. He told me he'd teach me how to drive and I pouted (for useless reasons, obviously, since we were on the phone) and cleverly pointed out that he didn't own a car. And he said he didn't care. Romantic enough for me. :)
Visited my grandparents in the morning, and then went to B's place while he was at work coz mummy fell sick yesterday and I didn't feel good letting her stay alone. We lay on the bed and talked, and she put oil on my tummy coz I was having cramps. I put the clothes out for her when the sun came up, and took them in for her when it smelt like rain. She let me go through all her lipsticks and picked out the ones that suited me, and gave them to me, and then did my makeup before I went to meet B at Bedok when he was done with work. I have such a wonderful mother-in-law. All that crap people keep telling me about how they always turn against you after you tie the knot, that's just, well, crap. Mummy is so wonderful, I would put the clothes out and take them in a million times for her even if it kills my arms, I adore her that much.
B and I went to Cash Converters, that place is really cool and you can find all sorts of funny stuff and we found an electronic keyboard that costs $59. You can actually roll the thing up, it's rubberized, and there are like 182 different sounds or something like that. We sat on a random bench and he explained to me all about why Smack My Bitch Up is his favourite song on the planet, and I quite agree with his analogy. Then Khaal picked us up, we got dinner, and we drove to the reservoir to sit and eat it and talk by the water. After Khaal drove B home, I proceeded to try to not wreck his van. I really want to learn driving...
You know, there are lovers, and then there are lovers. My Naz Jaan is both.
Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky.
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| When Push Comes to Shove |
[22 Jul 2008|11:07pm] |
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mood |
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sad |
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Yesterday I rode in a van with a mattress in the back, that's where he'd slept all those nights all alone. The man with tears in his eyes and his heart on the road, shattered and broken and torn. He told me his stories as we drove down the highway, said he was sorry for all the things he'd done. The ones he loved had been stolen from his arms and he was waiting for them to come home. The sunset was perfect as we drove down that highway, I held back my sadness as he choked on his own. It was an evening I'll always remember.
I remember a time when perfection lasted beyond the shadows for them, too.
Maybe a four-room apartment in a suburban estate in the East and you to sleep next to every night seems too little to ask for. But that's really all I want.
One day we'll get in the car and drive anywhere we wanna go and then we'll stay in a five-star mini bar luxury hotel room, all I know is I got you and you got me babe. And when that morning comes, I'll make coffee and you'll read the paper. We'll talk about our plans and I'll keep saying how lucky we are.
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| This Is Mine |
[21 Jul 2008|10:04am] |
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mood |
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 happy |
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Okay, so maybe I'm not ugly.
I'm pretty.
That's what his aunties said!!!
-Ana smile-
On Friday we had a huge fight which got really ugly and which I do not wish to speak of. It was an extremely humiliating experience which I'm sure all girls would be able to relate to at some point.
Anyway, I was still seething mad at him on Saturday.
I went for my Solat tutorial class at Darul Arqam at 10am, then met B at Pasir Ris around 1 coz he had to go to the bank. One of those darned machines decided that his card tasted good and swallowed it. We hardly spoke or looked at each other the entire 30 minutes we spent in the queue.
I don't think he planned it, but family weekends (his side) always somehow heal us and make me feel better.
His oldest sister, bubu Nazrin, and her husband picked us up from the mall when they dropped little Saif off for class. We then spent the entire afternoon and early evening at their place. Okay, confession time... I was so affected by B's fat comments that I didn't touch food for two days. The only thing I'd eaten was a pear in the last 48 hours. He MADE me eat lunch and then MADE me eat the pasta that bubu made for the kids. It was fun though. I stopped starving. Little Amira was being her usual princessy self, insisting I look at the hermit crabs in the balcony ten million times with her and begging me to go draw with her in the room right in the middle of a game of checkers I was playing with Saif. She gets extremely jealous if I show Saif as much as five minutes of undivided attention.
Here, I found a picture of Princess Amira Ayesha, taken on the first day of Hari Raya last year. She's got a different hairstyle now, short and cropped, like a Rihanna kind of thing going on there.
And, just for kicks, there's a picture of me with all them kids on that day. Zuhra Nesa(his second sister's daughter), Amira Ayesha, Saif Ali and Saddiq. I have tons of other pictures with them but this remains my favourite. This year, Zuhayr will be in there too!
So around 7pm we left bubu Nazrin's and headed back to B's house coz his parents had reached home. B's second sister, bubu Mehrun, and her entire family, was there! I was soooo delighted to see all the darling little ones in one day. Zuhra and Zuhayr are seriously the most adorable babies(besides my godchildren) in the world. This time I really really couldn't stomach any more food but B fed me a little pasta with tuna (yes, pasta again and yes, tuna) and then went off with his brother-in-law Niyas to buy durians. They came back like an hour later and the whole family sat in the living room eating them. B saved the nice bits for me. Then bhai Niyas drove me home. It was so nice of him to do that coz he lives in Pasir Ris.
Yesterday was Sunday. After mass with my family (which was worse than usual but I really don't want to talk about it. My sister is a bitch.) I rushed to B's place. His mummy dressed me up in the new punjabi suit she bought for me, all white and long-sleeved and flaired and flowy with subtle lace, and did my hair and make-up, and put jewelry on me, coz we were going to a wedding. B looked extremely smart in his black shirt and pants and sharp dress shoes, but I was still feeling weird with him so I didn't say anything. As soon as we got to the wedding, I clung on to mummy coz there were so many relatives and I was lost. She proudly introduced me to everyone she knew as Nazeer's bride-to-be and her future daughter-in-law. I salaamed so many people that by the end of the afternoon, I couldn't remember who was who. Mummy was the most beautiful lady of "auntie" status there. Hahaha. Seriously. I hope my kids get her genes. She always looks glowing and radiant and her whole outfit ensemble is always perfectly put together. I gasped when I saw the bride's beautiful turquoise dress. Mummy just winked at me and told me it was nothing compared to what her family could do.
We went back home and Abba left the house to go to the mosque, and B's uncle and auntie came over and his auntie gave me some brown organza-ish material to make a dress with. Mummy is going to sew it for me.
After we prayed, B and I left the house to be alone together for a while before I got on the 168 for the long ride home. I grew distant, and quiet. The pain in my heart had dulled over the events of the weekend, but nonetheless, it was there. I told him things that were hard to tell, and I fit into his arms again the way I used to, so comfortably, and we kissed and kissed and kissed and neither of us pulled away for a long time. I cried. And then it was over. All the bad things were out the window and we were happy again. We are happy again.
Family always heals us. That is one thing I always remember when we get rocky. It is not an easy thing to be liked by your boyfriend's family, much less loved by them, and the gift of their love which they gave me the instant they met me is something I will always treasure. When we have a problem, I call his mummy and cry to her and that's perfectly alright because she's always fair. She tells me off when I need to be told off, but always in a gentle way, and tells him off more harshly sometimes because that's what he needs.
We sat together where the wind could reach us and he had his arm draped around me in that comfortable, familiar fashion we'd so missed, and in between kisses he told me how wonderful I was and how lucky he was to have me as his woman, and to never stop being wonderful, and how proud he was of me and to walk beside me. Like balm, his kisses and words took away the dull ache in my heart and replaced it with a radiant joy.
And I whispered to myself, this is mine.
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| Ugly Ana |
[18 Jul 2008|08:31am] |
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mood |
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Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who fell in love.
She was so in love that nothing outside of her little bubble made sense or appealed to her anymore.
It was like a strange addiction, like she ate, breathed and slept him. Like he had become the blood coursing madly through her veins. If he stopped loving her back or decided to leave, this little girl would die.
The little girl grew up one day, and realized the love of her prince was not unconditional. It had never been. So she died a little more inside.
THE END.
Yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. I felt like Adrian fucking Mole when he was thirteen.
I was with cousin Jenniffer at Far East Plaza, getting clothes for her fancy new job.
The phone company cut my line off because I owe them about $483. She managed to bargain with them to let me pay $200 first, and the remaining in monthly installments.
So I rushed to an ATM to draw money, only to discover I had about $150 left in my account. All those cab rides and those presents for the Significant Other last week had left me dry. I drew the entire $150 and headed to a 7-11 to pay my bill.
The 7-11 did not accept Singtel payments.
I remembered there was a SAM machine at the Tangs underpass. So slowly, and grudgingly, I made my way there, the entire time thinking about how I was going to ration my two sticks of cigarettes until I met B, feeling sorry for my sorry self.
And guess what I could absofuckinglutely not miss on my way there?
Staring right in my face, next to the Marriot, was a huge ass poster of acoustic guitar/violin duo, Zsa and Claire. They're playing at the fucking Marriott!! And they both looked gorgeous in the picture and those instruments they were holding were just to DIE for.
A HUGE ASS poster outside the Marriott.
If you're local and not from the Chinese, Malay or Tamil speaking community, and not part of the mainstream Singapore Idol talent pool, and you're a female acoustic singer-songwriter who's in your early 20s, oh GOD that is FUCKING huge.
My heart sank, lower and lower and lower until it went past my stupid feet and into the ground and I walked away and left it behind in front of that poster, for everyone to trample on.
So. I went to the SAM machine and queued up, only to find out they didn't accept cash, only nets. And there were two ATMs around, but no cash deposit machine.
I made my way back to Far East Plaza, and sat outside and smoked my second-last cigarette. I could not call my cousin to find out where she was because, well, you know.
She called me fifteen minutes later. I followed her around and helped her pick out stuff which she spent nearly $400 on like it was $4.
Then we proceeded to have a late lunch.
THAT was not pleasant.
She started grilling me about why I'm with a guy who doesn't pay my bills.
I told her my phone bill was my own responsibility and she said so?
I told her he wanted me to learn on my own and she said so?
She likes my boyfriend. She does, a lot.
But when she probed a little and found out that we actually go Dutch sometimes, and that I owe him money, and that he leaves my bills unpaid, and (obviously) does not give me a few hundred a month as "spending money", she was very very unhappy.
She said it doesn't matter whether I'm working or not, he's supposed to take care of all this. But BECAUSE I'm not working, it's his responsibility to make sure I don't want for anything and am never left hanging.
And she said, you want to marry this guy?
I told her, that's different.
I'm not with the guy for the money, I told her.
I love him. He's a fantastic guy. A real sweetheart. We love each other for who we are, not for the material things.
He's not well-off. I don't blame him for not supporting me financially. I love him just for his heart.
So I went from Orchard all the way to Jurong to meet him after work, so that I could spend half an hour on the train with him. He proceeded to tell me directly that I am fat and unattractive, my hair is too thin, my ass needs work and my eyelids are uneven. I told him I'm perfectly fine with the way I am. Yes, I would like to lose a little weight, but which woman doesn't?
I don't know if he just said it because he was mad, but he said a lot of guys leave their girlfriends and wives because they become unattractive.
I cried all the way home. I cried in the shower. I cried before I went to sleep. I've never had a guy tell me I was unattractive before. In such detail. Especially someone who threatened to leave me because of it. Besides, I feel conscious dressing openly around him and I feel the need to cover up whenever I'm with him. I don't have much covered-up clothes, so it always boils down to the same few jeans and cardigans and long skirts.
Even if I'm not as hot or dressy as I used to be, I'm growing in faith and religion and gaining maturity. Aren't those things worth trading looks for?
It was really a fucking horrible day. I woke up this morning and I felt the same. The good thing is, I finished my article for SEVENTEEN.
I haven't felt this low since... Well... Ever.
I realize it. He doesn't love me for me.
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| Fuck |
[17 Jul 2008|08:22am] |
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mood |
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I HATE YOU.. YOU DON'T KNOW ME AND YOU NEVER WILL YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE... YOU THINK YOU DO BUT YOU REALLY SERIOUSLY don't.
I fucking hate you. You make me feel guilty all the time and I hate you.
There, that feels better.
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| Cheer up, Emo Kid. |
[14 Jul 2008|01:10am] |
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mood |
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amused |
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"In a city of infinite options, there's no better feeling than knowing you only have one." - Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City
Everything I am about or write about is apparently divulged in some way from a book, movie or magazine. I took it as an insult at first but I had to admit, once the initial outrage (that I effectively managed to suppress, twice) was taken over by a gentle wave of I-understand-your-need-to-lash-out-and-hurt-someone-when-you-feel-crappy-yourself-so-I'm-going-to-pretend-you've -already-apologized-and-said-you-didn't-mean-it, I realized it was actually a pretty interesting thought.
Aren't we all little toy people? Products of the subtle propaganda of the mass media? We spend most of our lives subconsciously trying to impress people we don't even really know and much less even care about, and pretending to be somebody we're not. I mean, come on, face it. The way we dress, the colours we like, the way we hold our cigarettes or light them or take them out of the pack, the way we sip our drinks, the way we walk, the places we've been and want to go, the way we stand out by acting like we're not interested in standing out in a crowded place, the way we enunciate our speech or shake someone's hand... They didn't just spring up out of nowhere. It is impossible for the human mind, having adapted to the age of the world, to think up something completely new that has never been done before. Every single step we take has been adapted, and changed to suit our own patterns, from a subconscious impression that could have been made on us from an age as early as our first conscious memory.
Perhaps what I should do right now is erase every text I ever sent, every song I've ever written, and everything I've ever said in the name of love. They have made me so vulnerable, and despite the run-of-the-mill product of the mass media I may be, I always thought I got the inspiration for those things from the deepest corners of my heart. If the person I wanted them to reach in their purest form (whatever the medium I chose to transport them) never actually got the message, or got the message but interpreted it in a way that I definitely did not intend or expect, then those texts, words, and songs might as well have never seen daylight.
Perhaps I'm such an evil person that I simply cannot perform a nice gesture without there being an underlying motivation. Spontaneous hand gestures are empty words?
Perhaps my actions breed hate.
But hey, cheer up, emo kid. You know you'll be just fine.
The castle may be in your head, but you're still the princess. You're still the princess with the beautiful ocean in front of her feet and the sea breeze in her hair, and the prince who sweeps her off her feet with every word he says, who makes her eyes shine with happiness because he looks at her even when he doesn't have to, and touches her hand or face constantly to let her know he's there. And he comes every day on his stallion, he pulls her up in front of him, and rides off with her into the sunset. He teaches her with his patience and gentleness how to be good, and she loves him like she's never loved anyone before. Adores him. You're still the princess and your heart is still a gem, your body is still a temple. You deserve a happily-ever-after just like every other princess.
Maybe mom read me too many fairy-tales when I was little...... Not.
If there's one thing I could impart to my child when I have her or him, it is to never stop believing.
Especially in fairy-tales.
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| Happy |
[10 Jul 2008|10:43am] |
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mood |
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cheerful |
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I am now officially writing freelance for SEVENTEEN. How amazing is that? I love that I get to do what I love and get paid for it. I get to interview people and the Significant Other is being a sweetheart by helping me to take photos of them.
We're going to do my first assignment when we go to Sentosa this Saturday. And I might go back to school to do a little but of it too. :) I know there'll be tons of people at the smoking alley.
Anastasia Francis: Singer-Songwriter-Writer *keels over in joy*
Anyway, I'm halfway through my prayer tutorials at Darul Arqam. I just hope I can remember how to say everything properly in Arabic. The girls in my class are lovely and the ustaza was scary at first but then she turned out to be really nice.
Papa wrote a long email to me. Telling me how he's already signed me up for the Choice weekend. Stupid church thing. But even that can't kill my mood right now.
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| Moon and Stars, Your Firelight |
[06 Jul 2008|10:18pm] |
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mood |
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nostalgic |
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Just got done with dinner and doing (everybody's)dishes.
Before I do anything else, here are just a few pictures from the Bali trip of the two of us, together.
At Florence's house, on our first night there. We got off the plane, got star treatment coz we didn't have to queue or go through customs thanks to our hospitable Made(that's pronounced mah-day), checked in at Pondok Sara and dumped our stuff in the villa and made our way here for steak, salad and red wine. Mmmm...
Taken on the morning of the second day. We felt like honeymooners!
Day 3...
At Kuta beach, then Dinner at Warung Made after our couple spa session at Bodyworks.
Day 4... The only day we fought. Sigh.
Day 5... Gerger Beach was absolutely gorgeous.
And the Uluwatu Monkey Temple was just strange, but a fantastic experience. We had to wear sarongs to show respect.
Dinner at Jimbarang... All the crazily delicious, fresh seafood you can eat on a romantic wooden table by the ocean.
Back in our villa. Full and happy and sleepy.
:(
Day 6.
Bye-bye Bali.
So we took a couple hundred pictures on EACH day. But these are the some I picked out, of a few special moments we shared.
I will always remember this trip.
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| July, July |
[06 Jul 2008|08:34pm] |
Saturdays are our new beach days.
The first official one yesterday turned out pretty well.
He yelled at me for asking him FOUR times if he was SURE he wanted to go back for the ring he lost. Because he was. Because I gave him that ring, in Bali... It had fallen out of his bag where he'd put it - ironically - for safekeeping. Poor dear. He went and searched through the sand in the entire area we'd occupied with our little straw mat by the rocks at Sentosa. In the sweltering heat. He searched and searched, and when he couldn't find it there, he went to Ben & Jerry's, where we had taken shelter during the slight drizzle that the skies decided on yesterday. Eating ice-cream in his wet berms and my dripping red bikini. It was already cold and windy and that made it even nicer for some reason. Anyway, the ring was there, and Nazeer Hussain was triumphant and I felt like a lemon.
Now I really, really know how much he loves me.
Anyway... There was a fire at the shipyard today, and he lost the ring again in the midst of all the chaos. Adorable dear, he was so happy that there was a fire... Haven't heard him sound that happy since I gave him a star tortoise for his birthday last year. Guess he really misses his firefighting days.
..
So papa and mom are making me waste an entire weekend on this stupid retreat called Choice. It's for single Catholic youths aged 18-40(??) and it's all about making decisions and having God in your life. I told papa that I'd only go because they want me to, and that I really really wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't care. It's from the 26th to the 28th of this month.
I do know what I'm looking forward to, though.
Prayer tutorials at the Darul Arqam, Tuesday through Friday this coming week! Every single day! And then I'll finally know how to pray, properly. And after tomorrow's lesson, 3 more lessons to go and I'm done with all my beginner courses. I want to fast this year for Ramadan. And I want to convert before that.
Spent last Thursday with mummy-in-law and three of her sisters and one niece. We went to StyleMart and the entire stretch of shops there to get a wedding dress for the niece. She looked really pretty in it and mummy made me try it on too, and we took a picture of it and sent it to B. Hahaha THAT was a riot. And mummy bought me a beautiful white cotton suit which we're going to collect this Friday.
It's a cold evening. B just got done with work and he's in a cab on the way home. Didn't get to see him today and I miss him sooo much. I'm going to have some nice chicken for dinner, and then switch on the air-con and dim my lights and watch season 1 of Sex in the City.
Cheerios!
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| SMALL |
[06 Jul 2008|07:06pm] |
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mood |
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energetic |
] |
I was maybe six, and Rebecca was two. Like, OH my GOD.
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| The Wistful One |
[01 Jul 2008|01:36am] |
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mood |
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 weird |
] |
| [ |
music |
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Rachel Yamagata - The Reason Why |
] |
One of the things I resent about living in an urban jungle is the bright city lights. The fact is, you can never get complete darkness anywhere. Nor can you hope for complete silence. Singapore is a cosmopolitan city that never sleeps.
Tonight I was pretty glad for that, though.
There I was, at 11.30pm, walking home from the bus-stop after my class at the Muslim Converts' Association, all alone. Nothing new there. The Significant Other lives about an hour and a half away, and it doesn't make sense for him to send me all the way home when he has to wake up at 5.15am the next day for work. Anyway. So it's 11.30pm right, and that's pretty early by Singapore standards. But tonight was different. It was so quiet out you could hear a pin drop (almost). Once the bus I'd taken had left, the road was empty and there was absolutely no one around as far as I could see. Well, it's a weekday night, I figured, so that kinda explained the deadness of the place.
Anyway. There's a kid skipping towards me. A little kid. Big eyes and all. Skipping. No family. Weird. He looked happy though.
So anyway, the next few songs I will be making videos of will be:
1. Boats and Birds by Gregory and The Hawk
2. Lost Without You by Robin Thicke
3. The Reason Why by Rachel Yamagata
4. Between The Bars by Elliot Smith
... assuming I can learn all of them. I'm done with #1 and 3/4 through #4, but #2 and #3 are a little harder and I haven't tried them out yet.
Also, I know the title of my next original. It is going to be called The Wistful One.
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| Don't Matter. |
[29 Jun 2008|09:38pm] |
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mood |
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sad |
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B, I know won't read this till maybe a few months later, but I miss you sayang. I'm so sad and I feel like I have no fucking purpose and I don't know what to do. It's pathetic. I miss you. :(
Just yesterday he told me he'd fallen in love with this song... And I think it says everything I want to say right now.
Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter, no
Cause I got you, babe
Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter, no
Cause I got you
Cause we gon' fight
Oh yes we gon' fight
Believe we gon' fight
Fight for our right to love, yeah
Nobody wanna see us together
But it don't matter, no
Cause I got you
Nobody wanna see us together
Nobody thought we'd last forever
I feel them hopin' and prayin'
Things between us don't get better
Women comin' after you
Men comin' after me
Seems like everybody wanna go for self
And don't respect boundaries
Tellin' you all those lies
Just to get on your side
I must admit there were a couple secrets
I held inside
Just know that I tried
To always apologize
I'ma have you first always in my heart
To keep you satisfied
(Chorus)
Got every right to wanna leave
Got every right to wanna go
Got every right to hit the road
And never talk to me no more
You don't even have to call
Check on me at all
Cause the way I been actin' lately
Towards you
Putting others before you
And they watchin' everything I been doin'
Just to hurt you
Most of it just ain't true
And they won't show you
How much of a king you are to me,
And why I love you baby
(Chorus)
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| Bang Bang. |
[29 Jun 2008|09:43am] |
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mood |
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sad |
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So...
We are pleased to have the opportunity to interview you for the position of Assistant Production Editor. We are delighted that you have considered this position as a desirable career opportunity.
In the selection process, we evaluated the relative knowledge, skills, and abilities of all applicants in an effort to choose the individual whose overall qualifications best matched the requirements of the position in question.
We have many excellent candidates for the position and the final decision was a difficult one. While we will not be offering you the position now, you exhibited a sense of professionalism and interest that is to be commended. We wish to thank you for the time you spent on the interview. Our best wishes for your continued success.
If there were future openings which you may be interested in, please do not hesitate to send in your application to us.
If I have such a sense of professionalism and interest why don't you fucking hire me?
I've never been rejected before. And here is my first rejection letter for the whole world to see. My embarrassment highlighted. Wasted my fucking time and money and effort. Fucking useless to hope.
Does everybody cry when they don't get through their first job interview and it's something they really fucking wanted.
I sound like a fucking emo kid.
The concert ticket and jewels I wore last night are staring at me. Our first concert together and it was so amazing. The Esplanade concert hall was so beautiful. The man who had my arm in his was so handsome and charming. The Thai food we had after that was delicious.
Everything is going wrong for me. Everything. It's never been like this before and I feel this weird sense of numbness. Like all eloquence has left me. I think Su was right... I really have lost my spark.
My handsome, charming man told me. He told me. I look so ugly when I cry.
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| Mad |
[23 Jun 2008|12:13am] |
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mood |
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numb |
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It feels like sand... In your mouth. Sharp, abrasive, choking you to sleep. And then you sing a song that has only one word in it, and only one person to hear it... The word is "lonely", and the person is you. So lonely and scary-looking when you're miserable that even your dog doesn't wanna come near you. It could be that. Or it could be that she's seen you like this so many times it's lost its novelty.
And then you think you've lost all emotion, to one. Pain. You hug yourself tight and focus on disappearing into the dark you're so afraid of.
The next day, in the bathroom mirror of a hotel room, you let out a gasp of shock when you see bruises on your arm. The TV's turned up loud enough so you don't really hear your own gasp - you just see yourself gasping in the mirror, and neither does he. Something must really be wrong with your brain, you think, if you can give yourself bruises like that without knowing it, just because you feel lonely. The Pain must be really much worse than you make yourself believe it is in the morning... Or else how could it block out the physical pain of your own trembling fingers clutching your own tender flesh?
You must be losing your mind.
It used to be an event every time tears found their way out of your eyes and you had angry thoughts.
Now you can switch in seconds to an okay-mood, and play the part so well you even convince yourself. Indifference makes the heart grow fonder.
So what's eating you babe? Tell me. I'll sing you a little tune and make you feel better. It's nothing really. Just something I wrote last night. You don't wanna hear that? Oh okay. No problem. What about "Mad World" by Gary Jules? I know you love that one... You even covered it a couple times. Maybe I can play it for you now.
Oh for Pete's sake, you're not going to sleep with that guitar on the bed again, are you? Don't pretend you do that coz you forget to put it back in the stand all the time. It's an inanimate object, you know. It's not going to suddenly grow arms and put them around you in the middle of the night. That would actually be quite freaky... But you know what I mean. Just quit crying and thrashing the sheets about so much. Then Sugar will come back and sleep with you again and you won't feel quite as lonely.
And besides, didn't anybody ever tell you that you look ugly when you cry?
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| If Music Be the Food of Love... |
[17 Jun 2008|10:38am] |
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mood |
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sad |
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Maybe it's not about getting anywhere. Maybe I don't need to get anywhere. Maybe all I need, all I ever needed, is to play.
I ripped this from KC's journal:
"Love is giving someone the ability to hurt you, but trusting them not to." - Unknown
How pretty our illusions of love are, when they're innocent.
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| Alexander Alistair Aidan |
[15 Jun 2008|12:31am] |
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mood |
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envious |
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Hallelujah, a Jeff Buckley classic. They gave it such a mellow and gentle tone. I just discovered these boys. A few of their covers sound a little cheesy, like "Gimme More", that was totally not my cup of tea, but other than that they're not bad. Here's another one of their covers I like. It sounds like it could be professional if they had proper sound engineers and mics and smoothed it around the edges a little.
I wish I had a twin to harmonize with. A twin brother. He'd have a deep baritone voice to complement my alto/soprano, and he'd play the violin. We wouldn't even need practice because we'd have gotten so used to blending our vocals together from young that we'd be able to pick up and harmonize any song together instantly. He'd be tall, tanner than me with sharper features and wavier hair, and a heart-throb that all the girls would swoon over(so we can have groupies!). His name would be... Alexander, or Alistair, or Aidan. Imagine that! We'd be a hit sensation. And the best part... Our significant others would not have reason to be jealous at all because we'd be siblings.
Sigh...
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| A poem to me. |
[14 Jun 2008|12:54pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 tired |
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Be aware
There's nothing in the air
The demons around you
Are just imagination
Save your tears
No one's even there
And he won't come
Not for your silly fears
By starlight
You don't need to play grown-up
You're loved here
Safe here
Rest your heart
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facelesstrails's journal
awake
