Wednesday, December 29, 2010

One Year Later

Three hundred and sixty five days ago, a blog was born. Life Unplugged. Too many emotions, and too many memories. But not enough words, which is very odd, considering the sheer volume of words written throughout the course of this year.

A year filled with the dire kind of mind-blowing intensity, the kind that leaves you happily damaged against your own will, even if happiness was the only scar that kept you protected for the most part. Happiness, and those fleeting moments, we are all looking for.

And as the year comes to a close, you find yourself regurgitating all the sweet bonbons, while putting aside the bitter ones. The renewed and newfound friendships, the dreams that came true, and all the crazy adventures, safely stored in a vault deep inside your heart. Easily accessible, especially for when you start forgetting. For when the good life is nothing but a distant memory. Magically gone. Poof.

Just make sure to cherish the moments when you have truly lived, and to embrace those that are still on their way. It might take a while for them to get here. But they will, eventually. Be patient. In the meantime, take a look at the world through new eyes if you have to. Appreciate the vibrant colours in the black and white photographs. Choose the rainbow over the pot of gold. Be the fourth leaf on the lucky shamrock. And every morning, when you wake up, don't grumble, don't whine. Instead, take a deep breath.. and just breathe.

It's a new dawn. It's a new year.

Make the most of it.

Thursday, December 16, 2010


when a short sentence becomes too long,
and the thing holding you back dissolves.
when inner strength defeats King Kong,
and Houdini's magic absolves.

when that happens..

take a look around you.
enjoy the things you'll miss.
whatever you do, do not forget this,
when life is good, it's absolute bliss..

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Beyond The Tunnel

The light at the end of the tunnel always seemed like a myth to you, something people made up to make themselves feel better when times were tough, something resembling a real science fiction story. Unreachable.

But you were wrong. The light exists. It's dim but it's there. (Blame it on the economy.) The only problem, however, is that you never really stopped to question what happens beyond the tunnel. The truth is, you didn't think you'd get this far so fast. But you did. You're finally off the safe train in search of another one. Now what?

Changing the world one step at a time is one option. Brave. Sitting on your bed watching life go idly by is another. Pathetic. What it all comes down to is the energy rush flowing through your veins, the radiant smile first thing in the morning, the sane voices in your head telling you to go for it, whatever 'it' is. What it all comes down to is you happily making a difference. Today and for the rest of your life.

The world is your oyster. Eat it or make a pearl necklace.

The choice is yours.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

My Superman

I don't know where to begin. The truth is, I don't know if there are enough words to start with. It's like I'm eleven again, being asked by my elementary school teacher to write an essay about my childhood hero. Only this time, the hero is real. This time, spelling mistakes exist only in my imagination.

But now I have a choice to make. I can either choose to do this the usual way or I could tone it down a little until every ounce of true emotion is squeezed right through. Let's see how this goes. (Disclaimer: Permission to use insipid vocabulary has not been granted.)

I feel him sometimes, in the morning, kissing my forehead before he goes to work. And I, I just lie there pretending to be asleep, savouring the moment like a girl opening up presents on Christmas Day. If only I knew how to think my thoughts out loud. But no, hiding behind well-thought-of sentences is foolishly easier. So I do that. I am doing that.

His spoken silence is heartwarming. He manages to always say the right things at the right time, usually followed by a few milligrams of witty wisdom. I love that about him. He gives and gives without ever expecting anything in return. And like I said, words are not enough. They never are. They never will be.

Besides, when you live with someone for so long, sometimes, you end up ignoring all the little things they do for you. Until you finally realise that what you need is right there in front of you, in the exact same place you left it. It never moved. It's always there. So you grab on to it tightly, never wanting to let it go.

Just like that baby girl holding her father's index finger for the very first time, feeling his warm chest against her forehead, the same sleepy forehead he kisses twenty-two years later before he goes to work as he whispers in his thoughts those three overly repeated heartfelt words.

The same eight letters I meaningfully entwine for his fifty-first birthday.

Dad, My Hero, My Superman..

.. I Love You.
.. Thank You.

Monday, November 22, 2010

The Invisible Tattoo

The leafless four-leaf clover is laughing at you. But the joke is not funny anymore. You and your perfectly messed up hair. Me and my invisible tattoo. The perfect getaway from cloud number ten.

Unused tickets. Receipts stuck to the door. Postcards reminding you of what you had and what you lost. Colourful maps and you still have no idea where you're going or where you're supposed to go. Brilliant.

Drunk on Grafton. A fireplace in the bloody scream. Poetry unwritten. Heaven in my heart and a train back to the city. Goodbye good girl. My happy alliteration. More or less.

Now reality bites you in the neck. Vampire style. And you scream in silence to a dark grey hue.

Thinking about your lifeless four-leaf clover and my oxymoronic invisible tattoo.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Things Change

Change is inevitable. One minute you're breathing, the next you're suffocating. Heaven and hell, and an escalator to purgatory. Black and white, and a shade of grey. The light at the end of the tunnel is behind you. Gone. Hello again. Your one way ticket to somewhere. The only question is where?

Growing up, as it turns out, is messy. Fun at first, but gets tedious with time. Much like sex. Or that roller-coaster ride you used to love as a kid. The same kid who mistook crocodiles for love making, and who naively believed that fairytales come true. Ten years later, crocodiles live on, love disguises itself as lust, and fairytales are nothing but a distant memory of the future. Extinct.

One fight - the child versus the grownup.

Who is it going to be?

Saturday, October 16, 2010

When A Heart Stops Beating

The silence is deafening. October rain after three months of sunshine. Memories of a life lived. Because life is for the living. But then, before you know it, your heart stops beating. Just like that.

The most obscure side to life is death. The not knowing kills me. Pun intended. Some religions believe in an afterlife, others believe in reincarnation. I believe it's complicated, and that it was designed to be that way. As a scientist I'm used to looking for answers and finding them, but as it turns out, some questions are insurmountable, too big for us earthlings to handle. An incomplete jigsaw puzzle.

And as the pictures start to fade away, you try to hold on to what's left. The empty wooden chair. The half filled glass of wine. A Cuban cigar after it has been put out. Because saying goodbye is never easy, but sometimes, that's the only thing left for you to do. You could also write about it, hoping that sooner or later the sadness will go away, much like the man who yesterday lived and today doesn't.

And if you're reading this, don't feel sorry, and don't give me your condolences. Instead, just promise me one thing. Promise me you'll start living. Give yourself a moment and start breathing. Love the people in your life. Wipe that frown off your face and smile. Laugh at even the silliest things. Promise me, no, promise yourself, that from now on, you'll live, love and laugh..

Until your heart stops beating.

Just like that.

Nann, wherever you are, and whatever is happening to you right now, I hope you know I loved you. And if life really flashes before your eyes, I hope the cinema experience included a bowl of popcorn. I also hope it was worth the watch.

I don't know if I will ever see you again, but just in case I don't, I wanted you to know (provided you have internet access) that it has been great having you as my grandfather. The stories told will always be in my heart. Finally, may you rest in peace.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

1/2 x my heart

Surrounded by strangers I felt at home. Complete. Like a sentence at the end of a fairytale. An exhaled breath in the middle of a full moon. Surrounded by strangers I felt like me. Also a stranger. A person whose smile I failed to recognise before. A smile worth a thousand unwritten words. Words that will never do justice to any emotion or feeling felt. Emotions forever locked inside one living pumping happy heart.

The empty void is finally gone. So is the excruciating pain inside your chest. And all you had to do was believe. Yes, believe. People always seem to find the idealist side of me very naive. They say it's unhealthy, like a parasite eating away at your insides, or like having a full English breakfast for dinner. You get the picture. But the truth is, being an idealist, as "crazy" as it may be, is so much more fulfilling than being a realist. There is way too much real in this world.

I dreamt and never stopped. And somewhere along the way, somewhere in between the beginning and the end of this beautiful journey, those dreams came true. And my heart was hooked. Happy replaced sad. Peace defeated anger. Now, I find myself wanting to taste every drop. Now, I find myself eager to live. Life. Beautiful. Exhilarating. The stranger has become my new best friend.

But, like everything else in life with a time limit, this journey is now coming to an end, and the hardest part of it all is slowly approaching. Because this right here is real, what awaits me is real, and no dream is ever going to be good enough. No bubble big enough. And even though half of my heart wants to stay and keep on dreaming, the other half is either drunk, numb, or slowly awakening to the reality of it all. The bitter, bitter sweet reality. It's time to say goodbye buddy.

Or maybe a see you later (the happy idealist).

P.S. I want to thank every single stranger (now a friend) I met on this journey; for every shared bedroom, beer, conversation, dinner, or any other thing we might have shared. Thank you for letting me see the world through your eyes, a world that is filled with so many beautiful people, both inside and out. And if we never meet again, I hope you'll have the most amazing life. A life as amazing as this summer.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Twenty 2

a Guinness in Temple Bar
an acoustic guitar without a scar
alone yet somehow fulfilled
tears of wishes unkilled

a tattoo to be forgotten
a scarf made out of cotton
one luggage but many possessions
journeys jammed in one heart session

a stranger whose sitting close-by
a conversation that is now running dry
a day without a clue
and I, I just turned..

Written in Temple Bar, Dublin on 15/09/2010 at 14:22.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Untitled Knowledge

A cider, a beer and a pair of flushed cheeks. Slightly tipsy on your way back 'home'. All these beautiful people. But it's time to say goodbye now. Or maybe a see you later.

Three weeks left. Go on, have another pint of fun before it's too late. Before people turn into shadows, before you are lost in translation, and before the ladybird metamorphoses into a beautiful butterfly. Oh shit no. Not again.

Home is where the heart is they say. But where is your heart? It seems the miles are getting longer. Kilometres rather. Crashing into a back-reflecting mirror. Runaway.

A trip to the wobbly loo on the train gets you thinking. You haven't done that in a while. Or probably you don't even remember you did. The truth is, there is nothing left to fear. Nothing left worth fearing.

Tour guide said that the four stages of life are learning, earning, spending and ending. Well I, I guess I'd rather be stuck in the first stage. For a while at least. He also said writers are lonely creatures. Well I, I guess I'd rather be lonely than alone. Because tonight the sunset got the best of me and I'm high and I'm writing.

And it may not be the best piece of Oxford literature ever written, but sometimes as it turns out, it's not about being the best. Sometimes it's about giving it your all time and time again.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Near Life Experience

Your heart is beating to the rhythm of your own smile. No longer second guessing every thought. Every breath you take is sugar-coated with bitter sweetness. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Halfway drunk, halfway sober. Halfway full.

Your soul is dancing to the very same beat, with the sun playing hide and seek on your face. Dreams awakened, others poisoned. It's true, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. But as it turns out, this time, you are on the right side of that fence. This time, the greenest grass is yours for the taking. Take it.

No longer feeling so out of place. The sandcastle you built is not being crashed down by the waves this time. All you have to do now is to live in it. With a pulsating heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. Lying down beneath a cloudless blue sky, savouring every memory while making new ones.

Proving to yourself that the time you spent trying to make sense of it all was nothing but a dead alley. The same dead alley that is now allowing you to live. One Princes Street and a near life experience.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Don't Stop This Train

Sitting back and enjoying the view. Relative motion has never felt so good. Smiling because you want to not because you have to.

Because sometimes you might just get it all. No loopholes. No illusions or tricks. Just you and yourself. And the rest of the world.

The passionate guitar strings swaying to the rhythm of what is now your favourite song. Even music sounds better somehow. Happy tears that ain't coming. Life is beautiful.

And the more you feel it deep within you, the harder it gets to let it out. And the harder it is, the easier the meaning becomes. So much so that when confusion sets in, you simply screw it. The right way this time.

Because what was once someone else's life is now yours. Because even though the journey is long and the destination seems so far away, the truth is, you are on a high, a very high high.

The truth is, you don't want this train to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Okay, maybe someday.

Thursday, August 5, 2010


Twenty six letters and an infinite number of words. Yet sometimes all you really need is one. Words can be tricky. Saying them is one thing, saying them and meaning them is another. Promises unbroken, lies untold. Crossing the line when you should have known better. Playful memories on your tongue. Wrong words rhyming.

Keeping your mouth shut and smiling. But somehow words still ooze out. Loose brain synapses. Damn. Knowing something but keeping it to yourself. After all, ignorance is bliss. Or so everyone thinks. Some words are better left unsaid. Some words sound better in your head. Leave them there. Trust me.

Because sometimes you just have to stop talking, even before you begin, even before words refuse to come out. Sometimes, in moments like these, words are unnecessary.

And yet, sometimes, the one word you really need is right there in front of you. So grab it. Say it. And mean it.

Now that wasn't so hard, was it?

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Perfect Time Of Day

Words cannot even begin to describe it. But maybe ducks can. There is this one duck crossing the lake right now, all by herself, wondering what she'll find on the other side. I call it the thrill of the unknown, the adrenaline rush flowing through the veins. If only ducks had veins. Oh wait, they do. But this is not really about ducks, is it?

No, it's about something so much more than that. It's about a journey, a roller-coaster ride from the boring to the exciting, from the lowest altitude to the highest one. It's about the life-altering high you get when the plane reaches its destination while you were too busy sleeping on that stranger's shoulder to your right. It's about learning to live again, this time for real.

Sure, maybe it's not as easy as you thought it would be, but it sure as hell (or maybe heaven) is worth it. And outgrowing the nest may not be the best thing that happens to you, but it might just be exactly what you've been waiting for all along. The right amount of happiness, the wrong amount of sadness.

And as your reflection in the lake fades away, you realise that this is it, this is that moment. The perfect time of day. Your perfect time of day. My..

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Waiting Behind The Yellow Line

When inspiration is lacking, I come here. It's only five minutes away from home but it helps me clear my mind. People usually come here for one reason and it isn't to clear their heads. Well, today I'm here and I'm uninspired and I would really like to know what's up with that. So instead I observe people. They might just do the trick.

The cleaning lady is exhausted. I'm assuming she has been crossing the yellow line all day. And yet, she is in the exact same position she was in this morning. Flying nowhere. Except maybe home to her kids.

The ground hostess, on the other hand, has it easy. Her desk is clean. The cleaning lady cleaned it for her. All she has to do now is sit down and plaster a smile on her face. But for tonight she is flying nowhere either. Except maybe home to herself.

Suddenly I realise that sometimes being happy isn't about the highest paycheck every month. Sometimes, being happy is about having someone to return to every day. And sometimes, it's about the wait behind the yellow line.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

The Ants In The Room

The cards have been dealt and the elephant is gone. You exited the zoo kingdom, only to find yourself entering a new one. Maybe you should have stuck to the old one, maybe this one is not for you. Funny little creatures running around. At least the elephant was big enough to see.

Almost invisible, but they're still there. Still pestering you everywhere you go. And you can't seem to get rid of them. Pest control is not even an option. Yet somehow, ironically, you still enjoy their company because they remind you of the elephant, the one you drove away. Somehow, them being there makes you feel better, lighter.

Indeed, the room looks bigger and brighter now. Yet there are still shadows on the wall, shadows that are slowly creeping away. Not because you want them to, but because they have to. They have to go back to where they came from.

Because sometimes you'd rather have a room with an elephant in it than one pestered with ants. Sometimes in life, dealing with one big thing is way better than dealing with many small ones. But then again, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Lust, Love and Lollipops

The bitter sweet taste on your tongue leaves you craving more. And the more you have, the more you want. Your senses heightened, your dreams enchanted. But the blood coloured venom on your lower lip indicates otherwise. Pretty on the outside.

Void inside. A girl's innocence lost and fairy tales broken. Only to be fixed again. Summer breeze, sandy beaches and bliss suckers together with their uncanny naivety. So much for a happily ever after. It was so much simpler before.

Before all hell broke loose, before you became you and I became me, and before juices started flowing creatively and erratically.

Before lust evolved into love.

Before lollipops and their bitter sweet taste.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Happy Hour

So you're sitting at a bar drinking mojitos with nothing else on your mind except happy hour. Scratch that. Two hours. The only relationship you really care about is the one you have with the bartender. Your favourite song is now on and you feel like dancing. The only problem is that you're not really the dancing kind. You still go for it though, because blowing off steam (not to be confused with water vapour), is exactly what you need, exactly what you have been waiting for all along.

Bodies swaying sexily on the dance floor. No regular pattern. Beautiful chaos. The echoing laughter of the hopeless drunk, the captivating smile of the handsome stranger. Everyone reaching for that very same climax, that unreachable seventh cloud and the one next to it. Everyone attempting to get back lost time. Including you.

At the beach, the music is still echoing in your head. Looking up, you find yourself smiling because you knew you had this coming all along. Yet this was unforeseeable. The butterflies in your stomach are letting you know that it's going to be all right. And you believe them. How could you not?

But then you find yourself in your room on your bed. And suddenly you realise what this was all about - one microgram imagination combined to one microlitre wishful thinking. Increased by an order of magnitude.

For now.

Friday, May 14, 2010


You keep telling yourself change is good, change is healthy. You are the butterfly everyone wants you to be, except you. The irony is that flying is the only thing that keeps you from moving. From one flower to the next, from one garden to another. The thrill is exhausting, verging on mundane. And the moment it starts to get complicated, you fly. No surprises there.

The caterpillar in you had it easy because it didn't know any better. But now you're stuck with the butterfly and there is nothing you can really do about that. Long gone is the caterpillar. And no, pouting doesn't help. I really wish it did though. Change is messy. It leaves you craving for less.

As a caterpillar, you used to be envious of all the butterflies; beautiful colourful creatures flying high up in the sky. The roles are now reversed, and yet, despite the sudden change in form, you are still jealous. Telling yourself that change is good and healthy, even if change is what messed you up in the first place, is pure insanity. The concept of change just became one huge overstatement, and if you don't stop doing it, you might just ruin the caterpillar leftover pieces you still had in you for good. And you don't want that, believe me.

Now go. Fly fly away.

Monday, May 3, 2010

The Waiting Room

I remember her asking me to smile. I remember her walking down that long long corridor with a stranger, looking back with tears in her eyes. And then she was gone. I remember seeing her heartbreaking look and his petrified eyes. And then I remember the excruciating pain in my chest, so unusual, so unbearable. I remember, and the only thing I want to do is forget.

I want to forget the minutes that seemed like hours, the pauses, the sobs, and the worries. I want to forget every fucked up thought that went through my head. Go. Go away. I want to forget how he left us behind, perplexed, not knowing what the hell was going on. I want to forget, and the only thing I keep on doing is remember.

And then I saw balloons and cards and little angels, forcedly accompanied by her heartwarming smiles. She's back, I thought. My little sister's back! My angel and my friend, the only voice of sanity in a world now glad.

Living it and remembering it make it more emotionally overwhelming, and if I could just go back and erase every painful memory, I would. The bitter sweetness of it all, however, is that that day might have changed her life, our lives, forever; the first day of the rest of her life.

And I just can't wait to see what happens next.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

To My Little Baka

I often look at you when you're sleeping, with your perfect mouth, perfect nose, perfect ears. And I smile.

You and your naive witty comments are the best part of my day, the best part of my life. And the truth is, I don't think I will ever feel about anyone else the way that I feel about you. My heart aches at the thought of not seeing you, at the thought of you being hurt. I don't know what true love is, but if it makes you feel this way, then I never want to know.

But I do. I do know. The funny thing is that the moment your existence was revealed to me, I was jealous; a beautiful kicking stranger was taking my place. But then they put you in my arms and you stopped crying. I looked at you, the same way I'm looking at you now, and right there and then, I realised I loved you. You were no longer the kicking little stranger. Instead, you became my angel and my friend, the only voice of sanity in a world gone mad.

I know I could go on indefinitely but what it all comes down to are four simple words. You. Me. Always. Forever. No matter what life holds in store for us, my love for you will never wither. I promise.

Because you are my sister. My everything.

My only certainty in an overwhelming life full of uncertainties.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Messed Up

You keep telling yourself there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. Everything makes sense. No it doesn't. Shiny happy people. You're the freak. No I'm not. Yes you are. No I'm not. Fine. I am.

So, here we are. You and me without the you, without the me. Damn it. Go away. I'm talking to you. No, to me. You don't want them inside your head. They cannot go in. Temporarily closed. Permanently insane. You should have known better. I don't live in a dream. But I want to.

This is mind-numbing. I say mind-blowing. Did it have to happen now? Yesterday. Could be tomorrow. Eventually is good enough too. It keeps coming around. And around, and around, around. In circles. Never-ending. A haze I never quite understood. Probably never will. Maybe I'm not even supposed to. Slow down. Please, slow down. I'm barely catching up.

Breathe. Run. No, breathe. I said run. I don't care. Take a deep breath. Take it. Give it back. This isn't happening. It shouldn't have to be this way. Don't give in. The beautiful slippery letdown overpowering the bitter sweet escape.

And yet, the shiny happy people are still smiling. Say cheese. What? Nothing. You're crazily messed up, didn't you know? No I'm not. Yes you are. No I'm not. Fine. I am. I am. Am what? What if I'm not? What if I am?

What? Nothing. Forget it.

Friday, April 9, 2010

The Highest Bidder

Watching your life unfold from behind closed curtains is probably the most overwhelming sensation there is. One minute you're on set, the next you're off of it. One minute you're the director, the next you're just the looser reenacting the scene. And in the midst of it all, there is the camera person, the backstage shadow who has no idea what's going on.

As the curtains slowly open, you hear strange voices calling out your name. You don't know them. They don't know you. They just love the perfect idea of you, obscure as that may be. And when you find yourself staring at their blank pathetic faces, you cannot help but wonder why you did this in the first place.

The show is now drawing to a close and you are bowing and clapping and sleeping, among other things. Your personal belongings are now on public display, for them to criticise and judge, for them to ridicule and smudge. The highest bidder takes it all. He wants it all. For you. The highest bidder understands, no matter what.

Because the highest bidder is also the camera person, the backstage shadow who had no idea what the hell was going on, but now does. The highest bidder is a reflection in the mirror twenty years from now. Yes, the highest bidder is no one else but you, the less pathetic version of poor pathetic you.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

01:38 AM

Right now, the current local time is 01:38 AM. Well, technically, it's 02:38 AM. But if you're too drunk or too asleep, it doesn't really matter to you now, does it? It probably doesn't even matter if you're too sober, wishing you weren't, like me. But it does. It does matter.

Twice a year, my twelve-numbered clocks and I, we have what I dub 'a stimulating encounter'. It's nothing out of the ordinary, believe me. In fact, I bet many people out there are doing it right at this very second. It's exciting. It's thrilling. It's.. electrifying! Of course it is.

Twice a year, we are granted permission to manipulate time. Time. The second most confusing four-letter word following Love. Physicists have been trying to define it. The rest of the world have been trying to understand it. I, for one, still haven't.

Twice a year, we adjust our cuckoo clock so that it is in line with a particular world time zone. We arrange it, we change it, we mess with it. Simple put, we do as we're told.

Well today is my exception. I am synchronising mine to my time zone. My decision. My life. My time. Permission Granted.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Mannequin

I saw her and suddenly everything changed. She was wearing a white bow sleeve shirt and a pair of blue denim jeans. I knew, by the way she was looking at me, that she wanted out, that this was not the way she wanted it to be. She was crying but couldn't, was smiling but had to. She was running to stand still.

She just looked and stared, all day long, never uttering a single word. But meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me. She didn't have to say anything. I knew. Of course I knew. How could I not?

Today, I found myself thinking about her, about the way she used to stand idly by. I miss her sometimes. They tried contacting her but she is nowhere to be found. She's gone and I'm the only one who can bring her back. But I'm not going to.

You might find this very hard to believe, but this story right here, is the story of a mannequin. My mannequin. To put it bluntly, this is the story of the idiot who used to be me.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Truth Does Make A Noise

Three hours. That's how long it lasted. It was emotional. It was intense. It was probably the most overwhelming conversation I have ever had. Survival of the Fittest. That's exactly the reason why this whole thing started, the reason why I am now seeing what has been in front of me all this time.

I won't go into details. Details are irrelevant at this point. Details are, however, what make this blurry picture clear. I've seen you before. Today, it's like I saw you for the very first time. Today, everything started to make sense. The child grew up. And so have we.

It's all coming back to me now. The tears, the forced smiles, the late nights. But it doesn't matter anymore. We live, we love, we struggle, we move on. That's the way it is, the way it's supposed to be. The longer the struggle, the harder the fight. And yes, now I get it, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.

Words have been said and yet sometimes too much is never enough. But I don't intend to prolong this any longer. I just wanted you to know that I will never forget this. Not in a year. Not in a thousand years. You're in my life. Now more than ever. And this is for you.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010


Right now, in every corner of the world, there are people crying, laughing, moaning and screaming. So many different actions to describe one state of mind, one feeling. Some have been trying to define it while others have been trying to experience it. Whatever it is they are trying to do, they all want it and they all need it.

Happiness used to be relatively easy, until it wasn't anymore. The wait is long and sometimes even painful, but that is exactly what makes the journey all the more worthwhile. A mother screams during labour, cries when it's out, and laughs when she holds her baby for the very first time. That funny little feeling she feels, that's happiness.

But there are many different kinds of happiness. Being happy, for instance, could also mean pleasure or satisfaction. A girl moans with tears in her eyes as she feels him penetrating her, thrusting it inside one more time. He kisses her lower lip, lies naked on his back looking up at the ceiling and smiles. She smiles too. And that funny little feeling they feel, well, that's happiness.

These moments of happiness are often random and unexpected. More random than the conversation you had with that stranger on your flight back home. More unexpected than the casual encounter that night on the beach. That funny little feeling you felt on both occasions, yes, that's..

Happiness. So hard to define yet so easy to comprehend.

You may not know this, but when it comes to happiness, there are four kinds of people in this world. There are those who are finding it, those who are losing it and those who are throwing it away. Yet there are also those who have never even tasted it, either because of their ridiculously high expectations or because life is just unfair. Whatever it is, if you fall under the last category, there is only one thing anyone can really say to you - get off your butt now and go look for it.

And don't come back until you find it.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Ignorance Is Bliss

You are born ignorant, immobile and speechless.

But then, somewhere along the way, you start talking and you start moving. You even acquire a three-digit-intelligence-quotient. People applaud every sound that comes out of your pretty little mouth. They clap for every move you make and they clap for every step up you take on the social ladder. And if you're lucky, you might even get that occasional standing ovation to get you through the day.

These people, they think that intelligence is bliss, that by knowing the earth-revolves-around-the-sun theory gives you a good reason to wake up in the morning. What they fail to understand is that sometimes you are better off not knowing. Because they don't know that the rabbit they had last Sunday for dinner used to eat his own feaces (but you do), and they don't know that their love crush is just a hormonal glitch (but you do), and they don't know that all you know is that they know nothing (courtesy of Socrates .. but you still do). With an overflowing brain, you knew, you know and you will keep on knowing, because whether you like it or not, that is exactly what you signed up for in the first place.

Yes, you are born ignorant, immobile and speechless. Twenty years later, you talk, you move and you are no longer ignorant. Whilst thankful for the first two sets of commands, you cannot help but wonder that maybe the ignorance you were born with twenty years ago was sheer bliss. Maybe not knowing is better, easier, simpler. Maybe. Or maybe not.

Monday, February 8, 2010

This Little Thing Called Life

Understanding it is not easy. Struggling through its grey areas is not either. But whether you like it or not, it's there, because someone somewhere went into a lot of trouble to give it to you - to give you this little thing called life that is now exclusively yours.

People do all sorts of things with their lives. Some are sitting, yawning and watching life go idly by, while others are grabbing it by the balls and squeezing them hard. Some are catching the next plane to heaven, while others are deciding to live in hell. Some are being dumped and others are moving on, some are losing and others are winning, some are stumbling and others are finding the strength to get back up.

You might be under the impression that your life is solely yours but this is where you're wrong. You laugh at the jokes others are telling, you endure the pain others are inflicting and you live the life, your life, that that someone somewhere has given you. And because s/he went into a lot of trouble to give it to you, you somehow feel the need to return the favour, even though you haven't got the slightest idea of what's going on.

Okay, so understanding life may not be the easiest thing in the world and struggling through it may not be what you bargained for, but whether you like it or not, it's there and you have one, and you can choose to keep on ignoring it or you can choose to start living it. In the end, you've only got two alternatives to choose from (a) opening the door, or, (b) closing the door. This decision, difficult as it may be, is the only thing that is really entirely yours. Just remember that you've got a fifty-fifty chance of doing it right (no pressure).

So .. tell me .. what's it gonna be?

Monday, January 25, 2010

Airport Waiting

Before I do this, I should probably inform you that in order for me to write this post, I had to first sweat my way into finding an electric socket to plug my laptop, because, amazingly enough, in this forsaken country's one and only international airport, the only way to obtain some form of electricity is through begging. And so, having no other option, I begged.

"May we have your attention please. This is a security announcement.", she said as I sat down. Without the slightest interest of being secure, I looked at the person sitting next to me for approval, but I got a strawberry-cheesecake-self-indulgent man instead. What is brilliant is that a woman is now joining this very handsome young chap. And I'm sitting here by myself laughing on the inside because the joke is now on me.

And so I find myself alone. Waiting. If you think about it, all we ever really do in this life is wait. As a foetus, we waited nine whole months to come out, only to be welcomed by hairy strangers. You are now ten years old and you're waiting for your mum to pick you up from school. The dreadful teenage years are now behind you, and against all odds, you are still waiting for that knight in shining armour. You wait a little bit longer and that shining armour is now just a pile of rust.

But despite all this, we still wait. Because you and I, we both know, that the after-taste will be worth the wait, whether you're at the airport, stuck in traffic or in a place far far away.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Faking The Art Of Bravery

Sooner or later we all do it. Women fake orgasms to please. Men fake love to tease. It's an art really. A very convincing form of art. And it's ridiculously easy - you're either a very good actor or you're not. What is not as easy though, is the art of faking bravery, the art of faking smiles and the art of making others believe that you've got it all figured out.

You might not be able to admit it, or maybe you just don't want to, but deep down you know you should just break down and cry. But then again you know that you're better than that, that a couple of warm wet tears running down your blushed cheeks are not going to turn a black and white photograph into a coloured one.

So you fake it. Yes, you show your tooth-pasted white teeth and you fake it. You'll never know what you're missing until you try it for yourself. The pleasure you get out of it is beyond orgasmic. In fact, you get so used to doing it, that it becomes addictive. It possesses your emotions. It damages you in a way that not even a first degree psychologist will be enough for you.

It's funny really (or maybe not so much), but I used to think that people who do stuff like this are unmistakably fake, just like women getting boob jobs and men injecting themselves with botox. Turns out I was wrong.

Turns out faking it is easier. Turns out we are all award-winning actors and actresses in the end. With an "ahhh" there and an "mmm" there, we walk the red carpet, we pose, we win and we smile. Or rather we fake it. Because, yes, faking it is easier. Fooling yourself and others around you is less complicated than having to endure useless, never-ending comments that start with 'it will all be all right'. Because .. what if it isn't? .. what if it won't be? ..

p.s. pinch of salt.

Monday, January 4, 2010

The Unkissed Frog

On my bed in my room, I find myself scrutinising my favourite four walls. Rectangularly yellow, these walls have provided me my own personal fortress of solitude. Throughout the years, just like old wine improving with age, my box-forming walls accumulated character, knowledge and any other independent thoughtful ability that was thrown their way.

This in-depth wall scrutiny causes my eyes to fall on the frog. Yes, the frog. The green, four-legged amphibian commonly known as the frog. There is nothing extraordinary about this particular frog. He is just like any other frog, one who would never in a million years stand out from the crowd. Except he did. But only to her. And so she picked him and they danced the mambo jambo, living together happily ever after. Or so the story is told.

I grew up believing the story, thinking that on my next visit to our non-existent local lakes, I will find my very own frog. Or rather that he'll find me. To my bewilderment, we never did find each other. With mixed feelings welling up inside me, I started questioning the truth behind this sort of fairytale, only to find out that the answers to the questions I was asking were too much for me and my small colourful world to handle. And so, somehow still hopeful, I turned to science for better answers.

'Frogs are on the brink of extinction', scientific research articles claim (many gold stars for scientists). I cannot express in words the relief I felt when I read this valuable piece of information. My beliefs were restored for good and nothing and no one will ever take them away from me again.

There is however one question I still ponder upon sometimes .. if we know that frogs are becoming extinct, why is it that we keep on pursuing them instead of focusing our attention to other equally capable creatures, ones who are not on the verge of perishing? Why?

P.S. I advise you to read my blogs with a pinch of salt. Thank you.