Realizing my strengths and weaknesses is a step-by-step learning process. It is slow, sometimes awfully painful, because of its dragged out periods. However, the one thing many of us — especially me — have to learn to truly understand is that, this process is ever changing. And, it happens every single day, every single second, every single moment. In a lifetime, say 20 years, all 20 years of you are different. They are not the same. Of course this seems like the obvious concept, but how many of us actually accept it?
When I say this process is ever changing, I refer to the way the process happens. Some times, it is due to external forces that you may or may not control. Other times, it happens inside yourself. You may or may not have the need to share this with people for brownie points or as a sharing point. Either way, you will always learn something, whether a new thing or an old reminder, and your knowledge asset keeps growing whether you realize it or not.

When it comes to story-telling, or story creation, the only formal training I have ever received was ironically in Digipen. I say ironic, because this is the school/university that dropped me. Though I may possess a knack for fictional writing and the flair of the English language, there were things that Digipen — specifically Cheng — taught me. The most resounding lesson was identifying our scope and capabilities. In figuring this out, we were always made to write the synopsis and point forms for our story. And then, cram them into a specific constraint, say, a 6-word story. The shorter the story, the better. But! It is also, the most challenging. See, it's fairly easy for us to drag on and on about a certain story and its detail. We get lost on the little, colourful things that sometimes the bigger picture becomes diluted. The story loses focus, and the sharpness of your story becomes unclear and severely blunt. Knowing your scope (and therefore controlling it) bears the semblance to "work(s) best under pressure". The shorter your story is supposed to be, the more tout and precise it will be. Knowing your capabilities, therefore, will add so much flair towards the story in its constraint.
Capabilities comes in various forms. It can be technical fluency, artistic license prowess, selective emotion and more. For me, I have a tendency to be extremely emote in the way I structure my stories. This includes the sentence structure, the vocabulary choice and the literary imagery that I always make an effort to include. Back in secondary school, Miss Mas shared with us Pure Literature kids the various artistic licenses and literary devices in brief. This is the collection of knowledge. In Digipen, those knowledge is being brought up again and put into practice.

With all of that said, I have reviewed the initial concept of PasteLxPatcH. Take note that this first version, as of this writing, is something that I am still hopeful about. HOWEVER it is too big of a scope for something that I am not convinced on dedicating more time and energy beyond what is purely necessary for my portfolio. Have a glance:

Dead-set on charging forward is Amy May. What she knows is that her lineage is of the powerful House of Patch. What she doesnt know is that she bears the prophetic Pastel Patch that will probably jeopardize the Horizon. This is the story of that blessed girl, gifted with a possible curse.

Sounds like another Harry Potter-ish misplaced royalty story which I dont want to be associated to HAHAHAHA

As mentioned in my previous post, "There was too much work for such a short, menial-perceiving story" as it involves building an extensive backstory and history — readers have to invest time and energy to understand the history. It's like an info dump; one that I find unnecessary for an intended short project. Also, a majority percentage of the knowledge and 'missing links' that would serve to drive the story forward would have already been disclosed to a great extent. Then I would have to work towards finding new information and concept to bring the story to another level.

See? It's just too much work.

So... this is the word vomit for the first part of the story.

# # # # # # # # # #

Amy May is your average babe next door. I say babe, because shes a tough cookie who doesnt conform to rules. Tough cookie because she's all about the wild and natural life; so she's not exactly next door lolol Her parents had lived a double life prior to having her, and they have a sort of domestic, organic mansion right off the suburbs of town near the Teething Forest. She goes to school and seemingly leads an incredibly normal solo-yolo life — tough cookie because she doesnt have many friends but she has no fear. The one thing she should fear though, is not knowing her family's history. One night, she returns home to an empty house. Thinking that it's her parents' usual nature walk routine, she minds her own business and goes outside to do her thing in the air/tree*. As she was about to get ready, she heard footsteps and murmurs of many people converging into her family's living room. She crept out, and saw a group of people - and otherworldly beings. She comes closer so that she can see and hear better without getting caught. The first thing she noticed was her father standing amongst the others in a circle... around her levitating mother. There was no malevolent force nor energy present, but there was a fear creeping up Amy May's skin. She went back to her room, got her things and out the door to escape the indescribable fear by doing her thing*. She stayed out really late, and by the time she returned home, all those things she saw were gone and her parents' demeanor was back to normal. Over their usual supper routine, her father dropped subtle hints and messages relating to the 'unknown' meeting in the afternoon that Amy May should not have known. Either he was testing her to fault or be impressed with her was anyone's guess but Amy May chose to not respond and play coy. Then her mother spoke. Summer is round the corner, and she wants Amy May to start preparing for life after college — by enrolling her in a prestigious institute that doubles as an education and business centre.

"The world is a wild place, love."
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The first part is to solely showcase Amy May's personality. This girl is still relatively young, almost 20, but she is a ball of amber and benevolence. Her colour readings are Green and Magenta — grounded and inner strength x neutralizer and empathetic-love. Amy May rarely turns to Red from Pink, only when shes emotionally heightened. Green complements Red, so when she does lose her temper it's frightening because she will beat you to the ground. Her parents do play a relatively secondary role but her mother is one to be aware of — her silence holds power and she is of Blue and Purple energy, where Pink and Purple are dark and light shades of each other. Her mother's brains and sensitivity makes Blue, and its a necessary colour towards Purple which is a royal and mystical colour.

Towards the end of this part, there should be a stronger impression and interest on Amy May and her mother.

Labels: pastel patch, serious business, word vomit

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Life frequently throws lemons to you. In a way, Life expects you to make lemonades out of it. Another way, you (are sorta expected to) reinvent or recreate the sourness that Life throws at you into creative and innovative ways. Of course, some people cant deal with it the first few times. That's normal. What's not normal is when someone refuses to rise up again. Or, when the way someone copes with the sourness is to create more sourness from within. That's not right. Why?

Because by creating the sourness from within, you're somehow making yourself deal with it by consuming it within. This causes a brutal, vicious cycle that never ends.

The only way to put a stop to it is — well, this is the easiest way, really — is to throw the lemon back at Life. Outsmart it. Outwit it. Outlive it. Who you are in the past does not define you. Instead, it was what made you. Your past taught you. Your past is you teacher. And almost immediately, the next second has already become '1 second ago'. It's that fast.

Time moves that fast. So you gotta haul ass and keep moving forward. If you let yourself wallow inside yourself, the cycle will remain and you will get stuck. Of course, if it's me, I'd let myself wallow in, be as beat up as I could possibly get, and then I'd get sick of being so weak and pathetic. I'd start to think of ways to help myself get out of the situation and out of the rut. The only thing is, right now, Im even thinking as far as getting out of this life.

Im not saying that Im done with life. But I feel like up til now, 26 years of my Life, I feel really happy. And really sad. And angry. And all the other emotions in between. But most of all, Im glad for the past 26 years of my life. I've learnt so much. I've given even more. I've yet to take back all those energy and time I've sacrificed and wasted on people, but they dont matter. Because everything, everything, counts. Towards things unseen. Towards every fiber of my being. Towards the seconds of my 26 years of Life.

Life bears a capital L. Because Life is not just a flat word. It's a living thing. It breathes. Life is the one thing that is ever present with us. Life is from God. Life is Allah.

Amalan kita dari Allah, yang pertama sekali, adalah untuk menjaga dan memupuk semangat kehidupan kita. Itulah sebab kenapa perbuatan membunuh diri, dengan cara apapun, adalah serupa dengan dosa besar Neraka Jahannam.

Since Feb 21, I have been trying my damnest to be calm and in control of myself. It's a promise that I can never keep, but I've learned to let go so much that Im no longer pent up. Not totally. Not anymore. It's a different feeling now, and I have a new drive. It revolves triumphing activities like a true underdog, without people noticing and without any attention. I mean, it's never been a problem, but as of late, people have been coming forth to me with kindness and sincere gratitude over the smallest things. Im so thankful, my heart is so full. I keep telling myself these things dont mean I should start getting complacent or arrogant. Instead, I feel an even stronger force to help, to reach out, to educate, to enlighten the world to the understanding that everything has a balance. You just need to wait it out, be patient, breathe and believe.

You dont need to have faith in god. Gods dont exist if you dont even believe in yourself. Once you do believe in yourself, you'll slowly realize that your belief with yourself still feels lacking — to do something for a personal sake or favour is just a really horrible way to live. The soul does not recognize this and it will react in its gut. Your gut. You'll start searching for something more, for something worth beyond this world. For a reason you can give to yourself. In this way, you will see that the divine power exists. Truly. In Allah.

No, I aint preaching. I'm thinking. This is my word vomit. And this is my thoughts compressed and combined together.

I've been lucky to have met some amazing friends. I feel blessed to have Allah's guidance and love in constantly reminding me, pulling me into a certain direction that always reminds me of Him. I'm grateful. Yet, I still fail to perform all 5 prayers. I cant give a reason, nor any excuse to explain my truancy in His calls. This is something I keep to myself and I discuss with myself.

Like all these time, I have been unconsciously speaking with myself in ways I never realized were possible. And it's true... the voices in my head are my conscience, my guilt, my balance meter. Should anything tip my balance and neutral stand in Life, the voices will come and warn me... as if Allah is speaking to me in my own terms — harsh words, tough love.

Some days, all these makes sense. Other days, these are all fucked up thoughts. But most days, I dont fuss over it.

There are fate threads that binds up together. There are energy warps all around us, reading, reacting to our souls' emotions and responses. There are spirits all around us, living among us in a parallel universe, that possesses similar aura and energy readings.

These are things that work both ways: they cannot be changed, and yet, they can be changed.

Labels: #suchafah, belief/believe, it's so hard to express this shit in words, on nights like these, philosophy, this too shall pass, thoughts, word vomit

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Since 2005, Ive documented my stupidity, emotions and thoughts in this blog. After more than 1,200 posts, I think it's time I acknowledge the tremendous positive effects from this unlisted online, digital journal. Given that this blog is only known to a handful of those who mattered, I was able to be as honest and as truthful to my emotions and thought processes on the fly. With there being a mobile app for this blog, centered purely on the basis of content making, continuing in earnest to jot down every raw, fresh memory in hope that it will come in handy someway, somehow.

Thankfully, and a little bit of unfortunate circumstances, it's come to prove handy. Recalling the previous episodes from minor grievances to major breakdowns, I can look back and make the necessary comparisons. Best of all, I can look back and lay claim that I own this misery, this blight that I am, because together with it, I also own the light and happiness that comes with. Because I deserve it.

I know I do, but whether I can exercise the things I am able to register is a different thing.

Everything came to a head on Sunday evening. The truth was, the book end Ive placed in my head to separate my fiction and non-fiction sections began to crumble. The fiction section, a nicer term for the ugly, and the non-fiction, a more reluctant term for grounded reality. The book end was slowly being obliterated by the sheer force from the fiction section. The entity was slowly overwhelming me in a way I cannot provide a counter attack. It swam around tirelessly, swimming around my head, leaving swirling trails of excruciating migraine.

And then I snapped.

All I see was black and these geometric colours where my meek voice was trying to fend off the shrill voice of a woman I cannot identify. Til now, that was all I could remember. I faintly recall my legs carrying me to ly's place. I faint recall ly's presence all around me. I was out, and Im still not sure what happened in real time. It was 8:09PM when I last looked at my watch then — I almost stumbled down the bus. I came to on ly's bed, and it was 10PM.

Ive never been on this side of the A&E — the inside. I was put on a bed after the nurse said I have good friends, and I was left to observe the situation around me. Alone. In A&E. The doctor that examined me was nice. He said it's got a very long and difficult name — it's true I cant remember it either, now that I try to recall lolol a lot of waiting, a lot of thoughts, a lot more voices I try to shut down. fnad and ly sent me to A&E, and they stayed there waiting for me until well past 2AM — before I was transported to IMH an hour later.

Jurong doctor was great, he asked me questions that I can relate to and answer immediately — sense of hearing: I heard the voices, my meek voice soft as if its barely holding on, the other voice overwhelming, multiplied in over my head; sense of sight: no I had my eyes closed. scrunched up actually. saw geometrical shapes in ever-changing colour. varying intensities. when it first hit, I saw flashing red-blue-purples. then it gradually changed to yellow-orange. and then some soft, pale yellow. then pulse green, and then navy blue all the way. sense of touch: I didnt feel any crawling under my skin, no tingle whatsoever. sense of smell: I dont recall smelling anything out of the ordinary but my breathing felt like it was hitched. sense of taste: bitterness. maybe it wasnt my tongue. maybe that was something else. Jurong doctor was reassuring, comforting, and really nice. I didnt have the chance to thank him whole-heartedly — Im hoping my constant expression of gratitude is enough.

IMH doctor on the other hand, went through quizzing questions with me like another polyclinic assessment. He asked me what were my thoughts like, the history and nature of my attacks. Honestly how would I know. It's my first breakdown that I didnt see coming, and that I had allowed. Then again, what was I expecting? Possible triggers at that point of time were channeled towards my family — particularly my mum. So we went through questions that didnt seem to be helping me because at the end of the whole thing, he said that I have depression but its not severe because my mood is the only one that is not affected, while everything is seems pretty drastic. There was no need to ward me, so he pressed for anti-depressants and psychologist appointment.

I went home on the cab, and because I didnt bring my wallet, had to call Mum down to get me and pay for the cab fare. It was 6AM. In the lift, Mum asked as bluntly as she could. I refused to talk too much though. That was it.

Farah Nad came over to visit me earlier. Both she and ly kept saying I shouldnt beat myself up for 'troubling' others since it's the least anyone should do for their loved ones. I had to differ, but I kept it inside because it was family. And thats the problem, isnt it? I kept to myself so much that it just overflows in such a way? Ironic how family is all there is and all there was.
We talked about things, shared stories, and I tried to find out what happened while I was out.

It broke me to see her try and explain that the plain look on my face that night crushed the both of them so much — my darkened circles, bulging never-before-seen eye bags, my faint energy.

It rained during maghrib. I dedicated the sudden blasting pour to myself and started reading some blog posts before fnad came over. Reaching home, I only managed to sleep for 2 hours - 8AM-10AM. It will be a great sleep tonight, I can feel it. So heres to a good end of the day of trauma: Happy Halloween gang hahaha. There are two songs that have been my saving grace every morning, and every night. The obvious, first one is One More Light by Linkin Park, and the other is this.. Evanescence's My Heart is Broken.



I will wander 'til the end of time, torn away from you

I pulled away to face the pain
I close my eyes and drift away
Over the fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Torn away from you

My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold
(Over my heart)

I can't go on living this way
But I can't go back the way I came
Chained to this fear that I will never find
A way to heal my soul
And I will wander 'til the end of time
Half alive without you

My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us

Change - open your eyes to the light
I denied it all so long, oh so long
Say goodbye, goodbye

My heart is broken
Release me, I can't hold on
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us
My heart is broken
Sweet sleep, my dark angel
Deliver us from sorrow's hold

Labels: #suchafah, family, how do we deal with this, how long have i kept this in, how now brown cow, it's so hard to express this shit in words, keep calm and carry fah, well now, what the flying fuck, word vomit

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going over the tip to overcome and conquer that stagnant state is as difficult as making the first move the first time. it's a plateau im experiencing in both my weight/excess fat loss and my relationship with my partner.

i. the excess fat loss has stopped; i have to take extra measures to amp up my efforts to maintain a consistent loss. I know I need to keep to my intermittent fasting more actively as well as to be consistent in my exercise. Procrastinating my yoga and not doing it everyday when I told myself I would is one of the reasons why Im 'failing' so I shouldnt complain. Just have to keep doing it, not as a chore but as a distraction...

ii. the feelings I have are still here, but there's a painful parry initiated by nervous thoughts whenever I think of Pang. it's uncomfortable, and i fear I might have to talk to him about it. its even more fearful when I think that it might even lead to a sort of confrontation. im not sure why and when this fear crept its way up, but it's very unsettling. the only assurance I have is that this plateau will be a first for me.. However, I cant say the same for him.

obviously things have fallen into a certain routine, a stagnant pool of habits, so there might be that bit where I might be taking things for granted? I know what can make me move, what can make things better: add a little fun. while that is a sure-fire way to amp things up for myself, it's not always the easiest. I've to remember to keep myself distracted from the unnecessary thoughts, and just do me. Things shifted, and now they're settled. it's time to shift again so that I can progress further to better myself.

Labels: it's so hard to express this shit in words, let us just go to a place, pang the popiah, well now, word vomit

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Raya Duty: self-proclaim term that translates to being tortured as the eldest child and eldest daughter in having to be around when people come to visit to (one) entertain the guests and show your manners, (two) help mum in the kitchen, (three) mask-on and show how tolerably tolerant you are in showing respect and honour to those older than you.

I'll be honest. I really dread being on raya duty. but of course, it is my own coined term. I dread it so because of the time it wastes doing nothing. but when i think about it after some time, i enjoy doing nothing. because life gets you so busy that you forget to slow down the tempo to appreciate the smallest of luxuries of life...... which is why I am contradicting myself right this moment. i dread raya duty because of the repeated questions. i dread raya duty because of the mask i have to put on. i dread raya duty especially when my family are the ones to go visiting. so, really, actually, why am i complaining?...

Dad is the oldest son in his family. The orang kuat of my paternal family. people come to visit him instead.

on days that we visit, i relish in the adorable golden citizens like nek teh. she is a joy to be with, still quite nimble although the pounds have tremendously been removed from her. i say removed, because she dont do nothing to deserve that kind of sudden shrinkage. but! old age does things to you. especially when you hit the internet age. this age.

there are, of course, rare occasions when i suddenly regret strolling out of my room or coming back home late and missed some lovely guests who visited. one of them is kak fiqah. she has a smart, if not sharp mind. and this year, she brought her husband. turns out, her husband is pointedly a quieter sharp shooter. im fascinated by his demeanor. its such a strong silence that is, weird but true, very engaging. i catch myself looking at him even though im in a conversation with kak fiqah. one of the reason im doing so might be because hes sitting in between the both of us so, you know, i try to be engaging and involve people around me huahuahua

i almost always surprise myself talking to people like kak fiqah and abang azmi. i feel the need to prove myself, and in abang azmi's case, the need to one-up after my last meeting with him. with kak fiqah, i guess i wanna prove im growing. she is my cousin after all. i look up to her.. her effort and hard work to follow through a safe and stable journey. i, on the other hand, am the total opposite of her. i guess opposites attract after all. speaking with kak fiqah allows me a peek into the window of my future. she's pregnant, kak fiqah. due early august. i found myself asking about her.. whether she's aware and appreciative of the changes going through her. i failed to ask her one important question: how does this all make her feel; i ran out of time. it was past her bedtime, so they needed to leave.
abang azmi is quite obviously a touch-and-go person. he only notices you for two reaons: one, you did something wrong to him or those that mattered to him, and two, you made him reconsider his stand. i would say abang azmi is quite accomplished, seeing that he travels the world for his job and knows a fair bit about everything. i like his brain. he's street smart and sly. lolol i dont lie, its got a lot to do with that dread of his thats been there since i can remember. its only getting longer HAHAHHAA HE KEEPS HIS HAIR LONGER AND BETTER THAN I KEEP MINE. AND MINE'S IS LIKE THE FEMALE VERSION OF A BUZZCUT. whatever that means lel i want to impress him. i think its a challenge i took upon myself unknowingly, only realizing it probably at least 2 years back. hes hard to impress, and the fact that he remembers the longest cold war ever between siblings (me and the sister) speaks volumes. ive said hes a touch-and-go person, so that means he wants to be in on a thing, but not get involved. so i told him the ins of what went down of the cold war, and then nothing else of it. and that kept us talking. he was surprised to know that im still going down the creative path, one way or another. he knows a thing or two about that, and hes got my back. sort of. so i want more from that. i dont want just his back. i want to have his foot in.

but its not just for abang azmi. it's practically for everyone i meet and recognize and know. family, friends, even strangers. i want to leave an impression, and im very, very conscious of my body language. first impressions yo.


i just hope that i make sense just posting my 5th personality test. its the 5th, and its still the same.... everything is a majority except whether im an extrovert or introvert. its a dang blur of a line, yo. even after the 5th try. huahuahua and for sure, this also links back to my language of love result where i am first and foremost a quality time spender before a physical touch yayayayay~!! it says a lot, right? hehehe so let me end this post by sharing my discussion with wak ija on the first day of raya. i guess this brings a whole closure to who i am as of 1st July 2017 teehee

i didnt do anything. kept quiet upon entering grandma's house, kept to my corner. had my nice face on. technically, i was still warming up that first morning of raya. wak ija connected with me first, commenting on how fairly bright i have become as opposed to the glum and gloomy facade i wore years prior to that day. i told her it was probably because of the soap mum bought for me, but i didnt tell her that its also because ive come to terms with the way things have become, are now, and will be in the future. i also didnt tell her that this 'change' has no relation to my acts of prayer, because im oh-so short in prayer count, but i still believed. I believed in Allah, but I dont have the heart in my confidence. i didnt tell her that.
she continued with the standard questions/interrogations, and found out that my partner is a chinese gentleman who is greatly adored by my parents and, obviously, myself. shes super supportive of it, and she wishes that he comes to join us as a family in relationship and in religion. i had to put my flag up because it's still a very much unspoken topic. her passion was flowing through, so i didnt completely stop her there. wak ija is a businesswoman, right, so she has her ideas floating around everywhere above her one path. and that path is her Islam. i say "her Islam" because as of this day, Ive concluded that everyone's Islam will definitely vary even by a millimeter. and yet, it is still Islam. so, her islam is also my islam with some loss of quality since i am quite lacking myself, right. and she has very good intentions for me. she wants me to find and be with a man that is capable of leading me in both on earth and in the afterlife. bottomline is, she wants me to be happy and have confidence in my husband that will bring me down a righteous path. again, her righteousness doesnt necessarily reflect mine, but keep in mind that i understand her idea and intentions. i dont stop her. she continues throwing magnificent wishes of bliss and blessed life.. and i am so grateful that this woman who was once my nightmare come to life is so accepting of my partner who she has never met. she was never this vocal and supportive of me, period. it was a great thing to have spoken to her... to have allowed myself to speak to her.

so you see, this left and right choices... i dont really think about it. i just do. i think later. if my gut feeling tells me that i should shut up, i shall. the one catch? my gut feeling is not what my heart tells me. so i follow the 'voice' of the stronger one. its the same to my approach of my raya duty... to my decision in wanting to entertain people — who to entertain... my decision to let wak ija carry on and remember her words... its the same for the reason how and why i chose pang to be my partner even though im very aware of the challenges ahead.

its the same approach to the reason why i love my pang. ♥

does any of this make sense? i hope so.

Labels: #suchafah, all is well, it's so hard to express this shit in words, look at what we have here, this is good, well now, word vomit, words of love (:

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I started watching Descendants of the Sun today. Obviously, there is a difference with my emotions as I watch k-drama now that Im in a relationship. The most obvious change is that I swap the main male character with Pang's face lololololol 'tis goooood. Honestly, I dont fancy watching korean dramas compared to my other friends. I guess you can say that I get kinda jealous with the fictitious world where everything is just so seamless and convenient. That kind of feeling can get unhealthy; I may start dreaming and believe in fantasy. There are a couple of kdramas in the list, and DOTS is one of them. The other few includes Goblin, You Who Came From The Stars and Moon that Embraces the Sun. How I prioritize my k-dramas is actually by the soundtrack — I follow soundtrack performing artists that include Davichi, Gummy and Yoon Mirae.

The reason for my blog post today is to note a particular trait that I find remarkably endearing and inspiring. It's very rare for me to come across people who have this trait, and when we do come together, I get particularly attached. Simply put, I am still lacking in so much as an individual, as a human being. The contrast lies in my ideal of being selfless, yet I also yearn to be selfish in order to live a happy, satisfying life for myself — you are born and you die alone after all.

Watching DOTS's main male lead character, Yoo Si Jin, was like imagining Pang in his tactical environment. The way he carries himself is so much like a leader, but he never asked to be followed. They stick to their principles, their belief foundations, so much so that sometimes it seems as if they purposefully hurt the ones they love to ensure their safety from any unnecessary harm and troubles. The most striking resemblance between the two men hit me hardest in episode 5, when Si Jin exposed his real intent on why he's been doing what he's doing.

"Because somebody has to"

It's such a stupid reason/excuse, but it's a personal justification. There have been plenty a time where I had to do something — just because I have to — but I didnt. At the end of the day, not doing that little sacrificial, obligatory, supposedly-unimportant thing caused such a huge disruption. Sometimes, to receive you have to give first; sometimes you have to suffer first to enjoy later.

"Because somebody has to"

Being the bigger person might be disadvantageous but at the end of the day, less hassle more hustle is the much desired outcome. This much, now, I believe. This much, I know now, is one of the many reasons why I love my man. ♥

Labels: happy is good, pang the popiah, word vomit, yesssss

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When tomorrow comes,
I feel like putting on my girly makeup
save for the concealer, cos my needs, i have 'em.

Lately I've been staying home,
with my makeup face on,
doing work, feeling the ohm
on days im down for yoga; wet to my bone.

Staying home with makeup on's slowly making me feel better.
I pump my Deep Music and stay in the zone for an hour,
taking as long a break(s) as I want to, making sure
everyday I clear the self-set work of 4hours — power.

years ago I removed myself from twitter, wasnt easy.
it messed up my productivity,
falsified my authenticity,
blurred my belief in divinity
with instant gratification; crazy.
what was i thinking.
and only kept to blogging.

so my blog's my twitter. my schedule, my journal.
and i plan big things, my blog my witness; my blog my secret.
in all honesty, not every post is ideal. it represents
the chaos and the flick of a switch
that is my brain.

so my brain tells me that when tomorrow comes,
i put on my makeup and make sure its another productive day
like how it has been since tweeny-seventeen began.

Labels: #suchafah, brain fart, catastrophic chaos, word vomit

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