0715

1) Monday mornings are an adventure in itself I believe. Especially when I'm travelling through what could possibly be the busiest station in London. It's a learned skill trying to keep my patience in check when I'm in King's Cross - what with people running, pushing, cussing all the time. Everyone is in a rush, it seems. Would it hurt to be a little late? Everyone looks so similar, nothing stands out. Work attire, black, white, grey. Logos on bags. Brand names. Goldman. UBS. Microsoft. White strings coming out of each year. So common, its disgusting. This morning Simone's Sinnerman was playing on my iPod. Sinnerman, where you gonna run to. How befitting, I thought. How ironic.

I take the same route each day in that station. Each time saying hello to that old man who stands next to the Metro newspaper stand. When he sees me coming, he picks up a copy for me. Morning. Each time passing by that pillar with that metal plate, engraved on which are names of those who were sacrificed in the 7/7 bombing. And each time, that same thought, same fear. What if it was my time today? I still haven't told a lot of people a lot of things. Hmm, maybe I should do something nice for them today. Wait, that's my train! Down the stairs. Run. Run. Shit. Missed it.

So, where was I?

2) I swear there are lil' mini-creatures that creep out of my pockets and then tangle my headphones when I'm not looking. I can sit idly on the tube/train, arms folded, and without knowing I get knots in my headphones. I bet those lil buggers throw themselves mini high-fives after each successful feat.

3) This morning in the tube, there was a moth flying around my face. So I grabbed the newspaper and started flapping it across my face and then *Flap!* It hit the head of the old man sitting in front of me. I apologised. He couldn't stop laughing.

4) Wouldn't it be easier if humans were seen in the extremes of good or bad? But if that were possible, I wouldn't know what to do about it. Follow the crowd? Which crowd? That crowd which gives me that spiritual/mental uplift I so desire, or that other crowd I'm afraid I might fit in?

Too bad we humans crave to be given a chance to not be seen in black and white, hoping that the blend of the two may well justify who we are, justify why we do the things we do.

Humans are never all good or all bad. I've struggled to understand that fact for awhile. And I once thought that it was clever to give a whole breadth of meaning to 'good' and 'bad' and then label people as I see fit. Attempts proved futile definitely. And as much as I've tried to get rid of the so-called 'bad' seeds in my life, I somehow realise that they're the ones who empower me in the most inexplicable ways. The friend who knows squat about what I do for a living, knows my life history by heart. The other friend whose gold-digging sprees I personally do not condone (by principle and by the fact that it is virtually impossible), is at the door the minute I call for help. The other friend who doesn't believe in god/religion, swears by giving to the poor and strikes up random conversations with the homeless on the streets. The man who once broke my heart knows me like the back of his hand.

I guess, in a grand scheme of things, things do exist/happen in a delicate balance of good and bad. This colourful and captivating spectrum which emanates through this shade of grey is growing on me somehow. And I don't think I'd want it any differently.

Now, that's my Pearl.

This is a drawing of my lil' cousin, Intan Mutiara Ayu, also known to our family as Pearl. That drawing won her first place in a drawing competition hosted by Pos Malaysia - AND that drawing has now been turned into a stamp! Pearl's limited-edition stamps are now selling at RM1 a pop! How hawt is that?!

See full news here.

incomplete

What is this that I'm feeling that makes me feel as if I've been robbed off of the luxury of many, many things. Like time, summer, money, silence, my own thoughts, my own pace, self-control. Time, being the most prevalent.

While change is inevitable, I struggle to understand what was it that triggered this in the first place. From a girl who could not bare more than two hours being without company, I morphed into someone who demands moments of solitude - some solid me time and nothing more. I am not lil ms. popular or ms. important. In fact, as always, I sit unadjusted on the other side of the spectrum. But the wind has pulled me from many different directions as of late, and I need to let the dust around me settle for awhile and find its rightful place.

Now and again I flirt with the idea of taking the next flight out to Venice. I can be gone for awhile and I can give some stupid excuse to those who care. Pungent cheese, gondolas and gorgeous martinis. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but then I’ve only got myself to please.

My mind is in four different places at the moment. My heart won't sit still. Sorry seems to be the ultimate favourite word, yet I don't know what it is exactly I'm apologising for. I want to do so much to make things right, but these idle limbs are averse to change.

I had this 10-year plan - meticulously prepared. If I were to run it by you, you'd say it's perfect too. But I look up and I see this brick wall. It was nowhere in the blueprint. What is this stupid brick wall?

Something wicked this way comes

I really don't know what to say in this space anymore. I'm back in college today. Agonising exams and bloodshot eyes. Fun times. And here's some Monday morning trivia for ya: If quizzes are quizzical, what are tests?

Have a good one fellas!

Now that's my kind of Thursday night

Last night, I was brought through some of the best moments of Motown in this fantastic musical. It was as if I slumped into the heart of Motor City, Detroit and had the privilege of the world's most prominent names to sing for me. When you have a brilliant line-up singing covers from the likes of Supremes, Temptations, Four Tops, Marvin Gaye!! Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie and Gladys Knight, who gives a damn about that yellow, ruffled shirts and that horrendous hairstyle that probably gave cod liver oil its name today.

It was difficult at first to be limited to booty-shaking in our seats. Then, when we were given the queue to get on our feet....well, let's just say the old, white ladies amongst the audience knew what to do with their canes. I lost my voice by the end of the show and was lightly bruised after *ehem* elbowed me and stepped on my foot several times. It's okay, I forgive you. But what do I explain to that old lady whom you made me knock over?

Motown afficionados, you just have to see it!

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