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March 25 Tool concert security guards....You'll often seen in footage of the AEnima concerts, these security guards standing just below the stage ensuring some dumbass doesnt get on the stage and do something stupid. I wonder....
Are they listening to the music too? Do they go back home as Tool fans? Or at least a little bit curious? They stand there like statues. T_T HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING???!
Their probably just some hillybilly texan roughnecks.
HEY THERE MARY-SUE! IM BRINGIN BACK SOME HORSERADISH AND LAMB TO HAVE WITH OUR DINNER. *spits* LateralusA friend came over to stay a few days back. Its been a long time since anyone came to stay over. And even longer since its been one of *those* sleepovers. You know. The ones with the nightly discussions. I learnt a lot about him (at least i think i did) in that space of time. A lot of that knowledge surprised me. Took me back. Defied my expectations, my ideas, my perceptions of what i had initially thought. It reminded me of how the people around you, little by little, change subtly.
And at first, thoughts like these frighten me, make me apprehensive. I dont know why.
But the more i think about it, the more it comforts me.
We're all making steps. We're all evolving. We're all living.
I love all my friends, maybe not equally, and maybe there's some favouritism, but each of them does mean something special. Parts of me, bits i thought i lost, bits i thought i couldnt recover, how to smile, how to laugh, how to dream, how to be ambitious, to be weak, to be vunerable, to have a strong resolve. To get through okay - all of these things, and so much more, i felt i've rediscovered.
I dont even know why im trying to say in this blog entry....my thoughts gets so muddled up and then the words all come out wrong....initially i felt upset, upset that people; the world; was changing, and in a sense, my memories being invalidated by my friends new behaviour, but its just like maynard says : Reaching out to embrace the random. Reaching out to embrace whatever may come.
And i think about it more, when is the last time i reached out? I stretched my hand, and grabbed something and made it mine? I've always been sticking to old habits, old memories, old disappointments. I feel like i've been living through a film reel. Whens the last time i felt comfortable in my own room, whens the last time i felt i could relax here? Why cant i be relaxed in my own home?
Imagination is a very powerful thing. You can use it to paint your mind with all these morbid things, the people who you loved and never loved you back, the friends who left you behind, the people who never listened. You can imagine these things up, bring them back up again, and let it dictate the way you live your life. But then imagine happiness. Imagine a smile.
Im pulling a big grin right now, and i dont even know why. If only i could actually phone tehreem. I'd wake her up, and be all like "you know im feeling happy right now and i have no reason why, but i just wanted to tell you that" She'd probably smile or something. Tehreem. Teh-reem. I cant describe this person properly. Its too difficult. Words would be a horrible crime. Because they wouldnt accurately represent her at all. Here's a person who understands my being, my existance, my humour, my childish inhibitions. My artistic inspirations. We share so much....i thought i was the only one. She just gets it. She understands it all. Every single bit. I feel like me and her, share the same mind. We're just fueled by expression. Art. Beauty. Its too much to explain. I'd be here all night.
Ismael is like....my link to...who i was, the kind of life i was leading. I was living a double life at the time, but his double life is, even more striking. Its two completely different people. When i talk with him, when he speaks, when he expresses himself, its like....the conflict of the two sides. That conflict, its so....familiar. That familiarity is something that draws me to him. "my fear begins to fade ....recalling all of those times..". Here was someone i shared my childhood with, practically. I remember all those times in the back room. I remember playing harry potter on playstation. I remember reading tintin. I remember the back garden. Such a long way, and now him, and me now. It feels like growth. It feels like evolution. It feels like i've come a long way, despite all my belief's before of me, just repeating myself over and over.
Shabazz is like....so buisnesslike. He described woodhouse as "a means to an end" i think thats the way he lives his life. He's so efficient. If he wants something in life, he takes it. He doesnt compromise. He gets everything done. His life isnt dictated by some console game or some persistant internet screen. He, unlike us, is human. He inspires me a lot in that way.
Shuaib. A flash of brilliant intelligence. Shuaib is the kind of person that says more when he's not speaking at all. I love shuaib too......his improvised ghetto etiquette with occasional flashes of unforgiving intelligence.....his intelligence is so brutal, so harsh. Its refreshing. Its like a fist up the arse. (Stinkfist - Tool)
Ahh well....im tired.....gotta go to bed soon.....
March 20 An interesting surpriseMy dad works in Doha, Qatar, and we live over here in london. He suddenly just walked through the front door 20 mins ago. Without telling us. I guess it was supposed to be a surprise. Granted, i was surprised. Then afterwards overcome with a great feeling of resentment. He brought lots of chocolates, and now he's gone out with my mum to shop for new things for the kitchen. Just like my father, shower us with money.
He pays for my existance, but just dont forget daddy; you cant put a price on Love. The genius of sylvia plath and other things~Im going through a Sylvia Plath Shrine period right now. Her writing appeals to me right now in this current moment in time. Of course, she appeals to me most of the time, but this is the one of those times where you can really feel her writing resonate in the world around me. Her writing has this unforgiving ruthlessness, a bitter tone, an anger and a cold, subdued silence at what the world around her has done.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions. The city is a map of cheerful twitters now, And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank, Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed. Sylvia Plath killed herself because she was disgusted at the world around her. She was bitter that her father was taken away from her as a child. If Sylvia Plath existed in this day and age, she would've been labelled as weak. Because this world is categorised into the strong and the weak, the good and the evil, the successful and the unsuccessful, the rich and the poor.
How does weakness inspire such beauty, such imagery, such eloquence?
Its because she was right. But she had a price to pay for that. The price was the conflict of what she had to do in order to survive, but surviving meant choosing to live in a world that she was disgusted with. That repulsion, inspired the poetry she wrote.
I feel i can relate to her somehow. They say "education" but all i see is slavery. Teachers dont inspire me anymore. They just feed me their examination board bullshit. Oh yes, today we shall look at this text because it is within our syllabus. Why do that? Why relate it to the syllabus? Why be so tight?
It reminds me of my chemistry and english teachers. In the beginning, they threw people out of the class if they talked about the syllabus. The classroom was an enviroment where teachers laid out a network of knowledge, each and every interconnecting thread, shining in all its glory, the synchronicity of it all. It was all so connected. Now when i go in, exam dates are shoved in my face. Assessment objectives, syllabus sections......it amazes me that such jargon is even classified as within the boundries of english language.
The funny thing is, im to take the blame. I am blameworthy for being the black sheep, i am blameworthy because i am not inspired by what is taught. Im blamed for doing things differently. Im blamed for wanting to escape by what im naturally disgusted by. I am blamed for my nature. For being me.
So go ahead. Blame me.
March 14 NoooooooooooooYou know im feeling SO creative right now. I just took the extensive express course to midnight creativity, the ingridients are as follows : A pair of matching pyjama's with comfy 100% cotton 1 hour of compulsory anime viewing. At least one bowl of cereal A hot chocolate with double cream At least 20 mins of reading Tehreem javed's blog At least 20 mins of reading Syeda's blog Must browse through The Impossibility diaries Must imagine Shibuya junction What a cracker recipe huh? Well i did EVERYTHING perfectly, im feeling so creative right now, and guess what? IM FUCKING SLEEPY. This is SO not funny. I finally cash in on god's half price sale for creative thoughts (he sells these things when the owls hoot and when the stars show in the sky, just if your wondering, the currency is the hours of your sleep) and it ends so quickly? Like WTF? I wanna write more! I wanna imagine more! I dont wanna go to bed? My body is giving in slowly now. Stupid body! Why couldnt i just be some Chinese Water Spirit or something. I would've done the job perfectly you know! Ugh! *screams*. Im going to bed now. Random writing at 3 in the morning.It was snowing that day when i left the building. The school building. The smell of winter, water, dead leaves altogether in a thin, crispy, biting air that seemed to penetrate my very being. It was graduation day to be exact, it was time for us to move on, to bigger, better things. The music blasting in my ear, decorating my surroundings, deafining the screams from students, the sounds of snowballs hitting cars, the crunching snow beneath my feet. It didnt stop me from noticing her walking across the road. Walking away. She looked so old now, much different than the girl, no....the Friend i used to know. My eyes moved down to the footprints she made in the snow. The snowstorm masking every step.
Reminds me of the nature of this world. Every step of hers was replaced with fresh white snow for someone else to step in. Dont find your place in this world, thats okay, you just get replaced with someone who *does* fit the resume.
I turned around, walking back home. Phonecall. Usual polite "toss and catch" with parents on the phone. Same thing everyday really, did it really make a difference whether i wanted salt or pepper on my food? Or what time i was coming back home? Toss and catch. Caught.
I looked back briefly. She was gone. But one thing i want you to know is people never leave you that easily. Is that fatalistic? No, thats what they'll tell me to think. The truth is, everyone has subsitutes for the type of people they miss. The truth is, nobody wants to be alone. The people surrounded with people can afford to say, "this and that is fatalistic" but they dont want to be alone. Nobody does. She couldnt be replaced. Because she was everyone. And when she left, nobody was left anymore. I was alone, with only the cold wind, and the occasional snowflake.
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March 06 A bit of the old nostalgia creeping inI have a lot of pictures on my computer. A lot of the pictures i collect is just random junk for my msn display pic because i thought it would look cool. Back in some distant dynasty, i actually decided to organise (yes, shock horror) this section of my pc into neat folders. These are as follows :
Graphic design : My portfolio of icky photoshop creations Photography : What random moments of sanity i managed to salvage in pictures i have taken
Random pictures : Pictures i pulled off the internet. Google image search if you will.
Not so random : This folder i wanted to talk about.
In this folder, are....group pictures of my classmates over the years. Pictures of people who i valued highly but didnt exactly think the same of me. And even though those people are gone....or rather, my relationship with those people are gone, i still keep those pictures. Is it like mourning? Am i mourning the death of something?
There is one picture that stands out more than all of them put together. It was taken in the year 2000. At the london dungeon. The london dungeon is an eccentric museum, its all about the medevil times, but more of the gruesome parts of london history. The staff are all dressed up as vampires and whatnot. Well yeah moving on, it was my first school trip in high school. I remember so clearly towards the end of the trip, i only had 5 pounds on me. Everyone chose to buy souvenirs like fake blood and whatnot, but i chose to buy the group picture. Thinking i might look back on it some day and smile. I still have that picture, only when i look back on it, i dont smile.
Because its death. Its not the death of the friendships, but its the death of my former self. The death of my smile, the death of innocence and naivity. I look at that picture then i look at the mirror. Two totally different people. Who was that young boy in the picture, smiling along with all the other boys? Did i really know him? At times i want to reach into that picture, to grab him, hug him, and whisper in his ear : "Never make this and that mistake", i wonder what he would've said to me. I know....
He would've smiled. Blogging in generalI dont understand how people can keep blogging up in such an amazing pace! Im really jealous of tehreem and syeda who keep their blogs updated so regularly. Not just that but with amazing content. I dont really value my blog that well, its like those cats that come outside your doorstep and you occasionally pet them. I treat my blog with that kind of courtesy. Thats a bit rude :P, so mr blog i will try to update you regularly with more teenage-angst posts, more photos, more thought provoking bullshit, and just about anything else that might come into my head! March 01 Another rant.I think i learnt a lot about myself today. Im a really demanding person, demanding of my surroundings, the kind of currency i use is communication and emotions. When people turn the other cheek it just makes me revaluate my link to that person, whether if im just being used or something you know. Sometimes i think my msn list is just some sort of showcase or some sort of show im putting on, in order to prove to myself that, im worth knowing. I hate seeing only 1 or 2 people online, it just kind of reminds me how we're all alone in this world.....makes me feel like im unwanted. God thats just so depressing. Thomas Hardy said it really well when like, all we are to each other is a passing thought. Maybe just a little captured imagination. This world....sometimes i wonder why god placed humans to live beside each other if we all spend our entire lives avoiding each other.....i just wanted to connect with people.....to kind of share what happened in our day and laugh/cry/complain about it all. Makes you kind of appreciate life you know? Appreciate it from another perspective. I feel like people shut me off from that. Whatever man. This fucking blog entry doesnt even count for shit. Im gonna go to sleep like a good boy and wake up on time and go to college just like my parents want. Not like what i want and feel really fucking counts anyway.
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