Archive for March, 2007
every day, i have a new Quote of the Day on my Google homepage. the quote du jour a few days ago was one by a Jack London - who he is or why his coffeeshop philosophies are able to command a spot on the ever-powerful Google, i regret to inform i do not know, but i suspect he is a writer, not because i have read his work, but because the nature of his aforementioned quote kinda lends a clue - and the quote said :
“You cannot wait for inspiration to happen, you have to go after it with a club.”
reading it, i was glad someone out there could commiserate with me. i was without a doubt at the nadir of my inspiration curve (productivity against time on the axes) that day, and at this point in time, it was a situation not to be had. i was desperate to produce good work from my fingertips, and so i was spending all of my days in Starbucks, which to me is Inspiration Central. but it’s been 9 consecutive days of lattes and americanos, still no dice. then i trawled the high-spirited streets of Pudu and Brickfields, immersing myself in the life and the culture and the noise, in an impetuous attempt to leech off the throbbing energy of both places; but even curry laksa and colourful silk scarves could not help me paint mental pictures. i thought the tiramisu in Alexis would help, candied nut topping and all, but three slices later (spread over three days of course) all i have is a bit of a sickly feeling in my stomach. even blog-hopping olympics aint helpin’.
what the HELL does it take for a little bit of inspiration these days??
today i woke up and decided there is no way i can give up on myself. i will squeeze my inspiration reserves dry to the very last drop if that’s what it takes. so back to Starbucks it is.
i texted him to ask, “baby, mkiara or bangsar?”
and he said, “m kiara, coz that’s whr i fell in love with u.”
and so i am back in the place where Martian and i first met. absolutely brilliant - just sitting at this very table, i’m able to tap into all this energy i never knew was present. i’m not at our first table; i’m at our second table, where one morning we sat at for breakfast; eggs in a cup and waffles. our first table is behind me, occupied by a man and his girlfriend, both giggling over something funny on their laptop. i am brought back to 2005 today; sitting opposite each other at that table, talking about silly things, getting to know each other. sometimes i cant believe how from that one day, things have hurtled and spun so out of control to finally arrive at where we are today. what if we hadnt met that day.. what if i had agreed to go play Dota with my brothers and my then boyfriend? i would not have met my Martian, and i would not be happy now. we would just be random people in each other’s lives.
on the way here, i took a route that i take all the time but never think twice about. but today i looked out the window and remembered a lot of things. like how i was sulking one time in the car, and wanted to go home. mysterious buildings. butterfly sensations in my stomach. godiva boxes in my lap. an anxious best friend, an angry exboyfriend.
just beyond the glass windows from where i’m sitting now is Somo, where Martian and i spent our New Year’s Eve a couple of months ago. we kissed when the fireworks burst into the sky, and there was all this party foam in our hair. it was all so sweet and so fulfilling.
but nothing beats that first day. nothing at all. the sugar and milk station is still in the same spot.
warm toast with jam. mmmmm i’m happy.
March 31st, 2007
i know a lot of things. but this is not one of them. why am i doing this? i dont know that either…
i had something i wanted to say but i forgot. at first i wrote a few lines about it on my wordpress but then i thought aiyah better dont blog about these kinda things. and now i dont even remember it.
a long time ago, during an argument someone said to me, ‘do you have a personality disorder or something?’. the truth is i’ve always felt that i do. i’m scared that i do. i’m scared about a lot of things, and a lot of the time i just need some understanding and some comfort. and support.. definitely support. it’s hard to feel loved when you feel attacked first and foremost.
i am a represser. when bad things happen, i try to forget them. i just push them away. i’m one of those people who would say, ‘please dont bring it up’, or tune out of a conversation when said bad thing is being discussed. i guess that makes me an avoider, too. but like i said before, i’m just scared. i’m just a scared person with a personality disorder.
by the way, i remembered what i wanted to say. i wanted to say that there are very few things in life that you immediately know are right for you. very, very few.
March 28th, 2007
today i am watching from the outside, from across the street, from a wire-and-steel chair that leaves imprints on the back of my legs if i sit for too long. the metal shutters are down and covering the entrance, but the side door is open. i know why this is so, and i know what’s going on, and i have to smile that i still have this knowledge retained. and then there are all these people milling around the door, laughing and talking, but i dont recognize a single one of them. not one. this frightens me. suddenly one boy turns around and sees me, and he squints at me in recognition, but i dont respond. because truly i dont know who he is. a few minutes later, francis, i remember francis, comes out to talk to them, and when they leave, he makes a phone call and stands there pacing the steps, deep in his conversation. this is the exact same scenario from last week. and the week before. and the week before that. a lot has been lost and forgotten. lemon cake, silhouetted movements, saturday evenings, sunday mornings, jazz brushes and a sense of belonging.
March 27th, 2007
there was this one morning last year. i’d woken up in a strange city beside a strange man with whom i had no business waking up beside. lying there in between the white bedsheets, i was only all too aware of the chocolate brown curtains and the morning sunlight it was letting through; a vertical disk of dusty light cutting through the hotel room and the hotel bed like a sharp piece of paper. i realized then that i’d fallen asleep with my contact lenses on, and that i didnt even remember falling asleep.
the man - a peaceful, breathing knot of tension - was sleeping on my left. i hadnt looked at him since i woke up, but i knew he was there, and i was really just more comfortable staring at the ceiling, repeating oh-my-gods silently in my head in between a lot of cringing and a lot of lip-biting.
but then i had to look at him. i just had to .. and so i did. suddenly he stirred, and i remember thinking, oh no dont wake up NOW!. he didnt wake up, instead he enveloped me in his arms. i didnt know what to do. surely this is not right? surely this is not what i want. so what the hell was i doing there in his bed, wearing his tshirt and his boxers, with the full knowledge that all this intimacy was in the wrong place at the wrong time? i was scared, but i was too proud to admit it.
when he woke up, he took a photo of me while i was still in bed. i covered my face and growled, DONT take my picture in the morning! but he did anyway.
months and months later, i find myself waking up beside him again, but in a familiar city this time. my skin is swathed with white bedsheets once more, and again it is chocolate brown curtains that demonstrate leniency to the stubborn rays of morning sunlight.
the congruency of this setting transports me back to then. but it is a long, long transportation - i feel like i’m hurtling backwards miles and miles and miles into oblivion. that first morning feels like a distant memory in the recesses of my mind. details are fuzzy, i suddenly realize i dont remember a lot. but certain things are clear : i’m guilty as well. contrary to what i had previously imagined, i am not a ‘once upon a time’ author after all. the first alphabet of my first chapter is not that huge cursive block you find in the fairytale classics, but it is in fact 10 point Arial. i’m an idealist who’s really a realist. it took me so long to finally see this.
in the bathroom, my contact lenses are in their green-and-white case atop the counter. he’s sleeping on my right and our legs are tangled together comfortably. gingerly, i lace my fingers through his, and he awakes at this to kiss me on my cheek. then we fall asleep again, together.
when he wakes up, he takes a picture of me in bed. i pull a face and he laughs. what is to become of us from this day onward, i ask myself.
i am still scared, and i am still too proud to admit it.
but i know that i love him.
March 25th, 2007
behold my new travel photo series!
construction workers in Malacca, Malaysia
December 2006
tour guides outside a hotel in Ubud, Bali
December 2006
tuk tuk drivers from Phuket, Thailand
February 2007
skateboarders at Somerset, Singapore
March 2007
all of the above were taken in Martian’s absence. that explains why there isnt a pic of me with local men in Hong Kong. last week i asked Martian if he would pleeeeease take one for me, but his response was CANNOT. damn fierce. what the….
March 22nd, 2007
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