Sup3rnality

You know that kind of book? I think you do. The kind we hear mixed reviews about. Some say it's good. Some say don't bother.

Your interest is piqued, and you know you need to read it for yourself to decide whether it really is worth the hype. The little voice in your head tells you that you shouldn't be part of a passing fad, and yet, another voice asks you "What if it isn't?".

So you search for it in bookstores, URL and IRL. Bookstores and Amazon. Under every possible category, you look for this coveted title. Everytime you think you've found it, it turns out it's a similar book but not what you were looking for. Or, it is a mere rip-off masquerading as the real deal.

Disappointment fills you. You wonder how others have found this book but somehow not you. Perhaps you should have latched onto the bandwagon when you first heard the whispers about it among friends? Perhaps now that it is so popular, it makes it all the more unattainable.

At this point, you either settle for a wannabe version of this book, just to get an idea of what the real one might be like, or, you forget it altogether, popping by bookshops every now and again hoping to catch a glimpse of what you would really prefer. Or, for some, you give up altogether.

But then you find it. I don't know, perhaps at the bookstore where it was waiting all along. But there are those who find it hidden in the nook of a hole-in-the-wall shop, or a second-hand book at the back of a car, or someone's forgotten copy left on the train. It could be anywhere. But when you find it, it's likely that you feel like meeting an old friend, like someone you've been waiting to meet, and yet never had the chance to until now.

The thing is with this book, the way some books are, you can't find the synopsis in the back. Nor within the sleeves. Not even in the preface. You don't know what it is about. All you know is that many people have good things to say about it. But every person is different. How do you know whether you will like it or hate it?

So, do you read it?

Perhaps you will dare to venture onto the first page, and maybe you won't.

Whether or not you regret it, that is up to interpretation.

Love...is like that book.

People talk about it all the time. From the moment you are old enough to have the stirrings of emotions for the opposite sex, you've heard the stories, how wonderful it is. But then some tell you it's all not worth your time, sometimes they say it's just a ploy to get into your pants.

And despite all the horror stories, the cliches, the glorified tales...you want it for yourself. An understandable decision with an almost impossible solution.

Now you have to look for it.

Sometimes you find it, and sometimes it finds you. But what you find can sometimes be what you need and want, or it could also sometimes spell heartbreak.

But when you do hold the promise of Love in your hands, the synopsis is not written on the back. You don't know what you're getting. Will you be happy at the very end, or will you be left crying? Sometimes you do cry along the way, but it doesn't mean it will end badly. Sometimes it'll be happy all the way through, and sometimes you won't. It's how you read it, how you live it.

Love and me, we've had our ups and downs.

Once someone found their book in me, or he only thought he did. Because I could not give love in return, not in the way he wanted at least. We have always been good friends, but I to me he was always just that, and could not see him as anything more. I closed his book for him.

And when I thought I found my book, and he his, in each other, we found that while we shared common themes, we never really complemented one another. And in the end, we ended up drifting apart until he found another book to read and left me to find mine.

He was the way some books are. Not a bad book, but not entirely easy to read either. And at the end, he was the moral of the story, a lesson to be learnt. And while it took me about many years to realise that, I never did hold it against him. 

And then I found a book. My Book. He was sitting in the backseat with me. He was sitting across the small metal table from me at the Karak highway McDonald's early one morning. He had his arms tentatively testing the waters, slowly wrapping around me underneath my brown jacket that covered us one cold morning while out with friends. And he gave me my first kiss.

Try as I could, I could not find the synopsis to our story. I was scared I would not find what I wanted. I was scared of just reading for the sake of having the book. I was afraid of being hurt yet again. I was afraid I would find happiness, then have it change to sadness instead. I was afraid of a good many things.

But I would never know what was in store unless I smoothened out the pages and read the story with my voice, tasted the words on my tongue. And so I read on. We read on.

This is our story. And I never want it to end.

#31

Contrary to popular belief, I was never kissed by any one of the two boyfriends I've had prior to Asdil. Nor have I ever kissed or been kissed by anyone by accident, on an impulse, on a dare... Cheeks don't count, of course. I'm talking full on lips here.

So, in case you haven't caught on yet, I was a kiss virgin at 22; that is, until Asdil and I shared that fateful kiss in the early morning light in the back of Yumi's car.

It wasn't something I meant to hide, it's just that I never committed my answer to a "yes" or a "no", since well, nobody really asked. Everybody assumed that I have kissed, and I never thought to correct them. I'm sorry, though, to the friends that have asked me things like "Is so-and-so a good kisser?" and I just said something like "Yeah, he's pretty alright". You people know who you are, especially on one occasion at the Karak highway McDonald's where some of the Twisties quizzed me on kissing techniques.

So yeah, that would explain the blush and the reluctance to answer the questions asked of me that time and the reason why I declined to kiss a certain Twistie during that Truth or Dare session we had. Truth was, I was saving my first kiss for someone, someone who I felt would make that kiss special and I wanted the kiss to be a promise of something more, not a meaningless peck between platonic friends to fulfil a dare. I didn't know who that someone would be, but I was willing to wait.

My waiting didn't take long.

A few days after our game of Truth or Dare, in what would be the beginning of something wonderful, heart in my throat, in all uncertainty yet certain that this was the moment I was waiting for, I met Asdil halfway for a wonderful first kiss.

And the rest, they say, is history.

This feeling so wrong
I think I knew it all along
I just wanted to belong
But then I heard it: "So long".
And now, world at my feet
Nevermind a light sense of defeat
I can't help but wonder abit
A little wistful yes, but what got me beat?
My heart's full, and I'm content
There is no need to smile and pretend
I'm just wondering, if this light bends
Would we have chosen these same paths again?

(c) Hazlin Aminudin, 2010

Love,
Lin

It's a small world after all, It's a small world after all,
It's a small world after all
It's a small small world.
There is just one moon and one golden sun
And a smile means friendship to everyone...

I couldn't help but have that song playing in my head over and over like a bad aftertaste. But it is, after all, a small world. It's happened time and time again. Like that time when a school friend was telling me about this guy who is supposedly so fine, and how I just had to check him out; and upon stalking him, I find out he's my cousin, and I didn't know it. And that time, after talking about 'Alfred' to Fidzy for ages; I overhear she and her aunt talking about an Aunty Wan and her sons Ferman and Fahrol...I had to tell Fidzy; Fahrol is the Alfred I've been telling her about. As it turns out, Fidzy and Alfred and Ferman go way back; way before I ever got to know them. Oh, and then there was when my mom found out the girl I was best friends with when I was 8 is the daughter of her ex-lecturer...

Yeah, I know...this is the part where I should stop.

I've had many of these small world after all episodes. Too many to count. Sometimes they are just the little things; sometimes they're big. But it just goes to show that the things we have in common are not so far and wide in between. Just because your skin is fair, and mine is reddish; or your eyes are round and mine is slightly sepet; it would make me any different a person. We would find out that we are all connected to each other (I say this at the risk of having another Disney song stuck in my mind i.e. Colours of the Wind).

There are times, as it turns out, we have more in common than we ever did know; and sometimes, it runs even deeper than that.

My latest encounter of this annoying-theme-song-for-a-ride-in-Disneyland kind occured on Friday last week.

This connection involves my family+my Shah Alam neighbours (babysitters+surrogate grandma+surrogate aunts/uncles+bestfriends/siblings+an old flame). Yes, my relationship with my neighbour's family is multi-layered. But to make it short, I think them as family; as I am to them. As Idzaid said, I am like the long lost niece (who stole our food--as you would add, Idz). They after all, were first the siblings I didn't have at that time and lifelong friends, then my babysitters, which then became like my family, and then there was the case of boy-next-door and girl-next-door :p

I know, it's complicated.
There's no use in trying to understand the connections.

Anyway...

I have been thinking that the last of my housemates that I finally got to meet looked mighty familiar. Not just the way she looks. But her laugh and her name; it just got those bells in my head ringing. I thought about it for a while; only then recalling vaguely that she looked very much like the my babysitter's aka nenek's (cos she's my surrogate grandma) granddaughter who used to come over and play with the toys I'd use to bring. Since her house was one of the terrace houses in the row at the back of my house and neighbour's house, I saw her often. She usually would be there with her younger sister, and we'd play for hours.

That was like, 10 years ago. Or, I think more. Cos I must have been around 8 at that time. So, maybe 13 years at most. But I last remember seeing her when I was about 10 or so... But either way, that was over a decade. So many changes happen in a decade.

But she looked like that girl... It's been a while, but she does. But I wasn't sure. And so I decided to ask her abit, about where she's from and find out if she ever stayed in Shah Alam. She said 'yes', and yes, she lived in Section 8... Hmmm...I'm getting warmer. Oh, where in Section 8, I asked? Somewhere in the row of houses at the back, atop the hill... Did you have a grandma living nearby? (Giving me a weird look) Yes, she lived just below the hill with my aunts... Are your aunts Maksu and Cik Pidah...? HOW DO YOU KNOW? Don't you remember me...? Hazlin...Hazlin...Hazlin?!! That Hazlin!

Yeah, that Hazlin.

She tells me I look different. Well, yeah. I know I have changed alot from that girl I used to be at the age of 8... No more the crazy long hair, or the odd clothes or the toys, or the awkward Bahasa or the National Geographics I carried around, or the cats, or the gadgets, or whatever else... Yeah, I'm different. Still different. But now a different brand of different.

So bloody hell, I've been living for a month with the girl I used to share my toys with at my babysitter's, the girl who is my babysitter's granddaughter/niece, and my ex's cousin... And I know her family; and so she knows mine... Argh!

It's a bloody small world!

Me, it's somewhat nice to know that I am living in a housemate who is a familiar face; nevermind the fact that I don't know the person she is now... But I gues it'll be fine. I just hope it won't be more of a curse than a blessing.

So yeah, it's small world after all.

Yippee.

Love, Hazlin~

These past few days have been trying. I couldn't even put to words how I've been feeling in the span of time it took for everything to happen. This would be one of those times when everything goes on automatic, and your body and mind just goes into default to do what it has to do. Thankfully, I have a wonderful family who stick together through thick and thin, and we have loyal family friends; who were all with us through the entire ordeal. And I have my amazing Ash, who was there not just for me, but my family as well. For my sanity, I owe you, Sayang; for keeping me calm. And to Him, I owe him my strength.

It's hard to explain how the days went by. Words, as strong as they are, counts for nothing in times like these...
But let me break it down to points, for my sake and yours, because I have no other way to recount the days.

Thursday:

• My mother told me that Mum's condition got worse; she's unconcious and she is not responding to medication. She has to be put into ICU for observation, because of her erratic BP, sugar level and temperature. She's even speaking in tongues, and has to be strapped down cos she's delirious and struggling.
• My mother couldn't pick me up since I was out of the way, and suggested I went there myself. Thankfully, Ash manage to get a hold of a car, and came to get me from Cyberjaya, after work. Went home to change and get some things and then left for DSH.
• Got to DSH and went to see Mum. She was unconcious but in fits; I got so heartbroken seeing her like that, so helpless.
• Sat in the DSH lobby as relative/friends kept coming in; greeted and talked to them until visiting hours ended.
• Ash and I were delegated to buy dinner for everyone; so we went to Baiti's, where we met Fidzy and family.
• Had dinner at Aunty Zah's house while waiting for the KB fols to get to KL, so that Ash and I could go pick them up and show them the way to TTDI.
• Went to pick Echik, Echu, Chu, Uncle Me and Nenek who got lost in Kepong town; and then brought them back to Aunty Zah's place.
• It was getting late and I had work the next day, so Ash brought me back to Cyberjaya. Was restless for half of the night worrying about my aunt, but thankfully fell into exhausted sleep after a while.

Friday:

• Went to work, but was worrying and worrying. My mind was all over the place despite having to go for a few briefings... Hopefully my colleagues don't think I am an absent-minded person who couldn't be relied on.
• Had lunch with Ash. Got to work late after lunch. And had work piled on me like crazy. Next week will be hell. Was so tired from lack of sleep that I had to retreat to the (very very clean) restroom to doze a bit. I only woke up when I realized I was snoring too loud.
• Ash picked me up from work at 5. Got held back abit, and had a pitstop at Alamanda; so we pushed off quite late; plus with the jams and all. En route, the car headlights died on us.
• Was too late to go see Mum, so Ash sent me to Aunty Zah's place. Ash went to Fidzy's to figure out the car problems; but since it couldn't be fixed, I couldn't get back to Cyber. Was wishing that I stayed in Cyber that day.
• Had to sleep in Aunty Zah's place despite not having a change of anything. That made me quite cranky :(

Saturday:

• Woke up early and went out with Ash for breakfast and to buy some necessities. Went around TTDI to get this and that.
• Ash dropped me off at DSH cos he needed to settle the car prob and also send it back to Gombak.
• Was at DSH the entire day til night checking on Mum, meeting visitors and relatives etc.
• Mum seems a whole lot better, eventhough she is still a little weak and groggy. Her coordination is just out and she is trembling a little, but otherwise, fine. Has a little of her old self back; albeit without the usual punch. Yet still a relief to see.
• The KB folks, all but Nenek. left for Kelantan, since Sunday is working day and because my Chu has an appointment for chemotherapy.
• Slept over another night at Aunty Zah's place.

Sunday:

• Had breakfast, packed up, and headed to DSH. Mum has definitely improved drastically and now is slowly recovering. InsyaAllah, if her situation gets better and there's no need for intensive observation, then she can be moved out to a normal ward.
• Mum can talk and be her normal self, and is actually eating. Her coordination, too, has improved and she doesn't tremble as much. She's just eager to get out.
• Ash came by to visit and we stayed to chat with Mum for a bit before we both had to leave.
• Left for Cyber; and that's where I am now. I'm relieved and I could definitely sleep easy tonight without worry. I just hope Mum gets better really soon.

If I were to go into details, Blogger would probably issue their first ever reminder that I am exceeding the sane limit of anyone's writing in a single sitting. So, this will suffice, although it'll never express the myriad of thoughts and feelings I had about what I felt and saw in those days.

Before I sign off, I want to thank everybody for their concern and prayers and support. To everyone who sent me their regards and words whether here on this blog, on Facebook or by phone or sms; thank you. You know who you are, of course :) My family (whether immediate or extended) who stuck together in adversity, and friends far and wide who came by to give support. And my Sayang, for being patient, ever-surprising and loving; I cannot thank you enough. I love you all to pieces. All your words and care counted for alot, and it worked wonders for my Mum. And of course, I thank You most of all, Almighty.

Thank you.

Love, Hazlin~

Your wildcard, boy, needs playing
Don't believe the lie
Your dragon needs slaying
Why don't you lay here with me
And I will bring
Kisses for the beast

'Dragon' - Tori Amos from American Doll Posse

No two paths are the same on which tunes travel by. And this tune, this afternoon reached to me on another high. Revisiting from the first time I penned those unlived thoughts. Oh, how it paints different shades of grey each time it plays.

The grey for today plays it lukewarm. Neither timid nor bold. The chilling fire or the fiery cold. It paints over the first art I thought I was meant to keep, and now etches another atop the other with lines so deep.

Play this hand, we'll never know if it's a win. But my money's on the jackpot. Because dragons, as hard as they are to slay; quietens after a while and lays dormant as the dust and ash settles. And the raging beast only roars when daylight makes its head rise to greet the fray, and yet purs the solace of night away.

Don't believe the lie. The smokescreen. It's a distortion from what really lies behind these maze of mirrors. Reflections are the opposite. Almosts but not quite. Reach out. And where your hand does not touch the smooth, cold surface; you'd find warmth.

Love, Lin~

P/S: Dear Tori, why say one thing when you can say a million? Your music tells countless stories, always something new each time I listen. There is an art to your art.

I read this post on Facebook which was put up by Idzaid and thought it'd be fun to list out these 25 random things about myself. Turns out, it was quite harder than I thought. My typing slowed down at about #11 or so, and I had to think hard about what else was there about myself that I could actually publish for public consumption. So, I ended up with this list... Maybe I'll add another 25 more if I think of any :)

Tagged by Idzaid Idros

Rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you!

1. I am in love.
2. I am acrophobic and ranidaphobic.
3. When I was a kid, I loved science very very much and wanted to be either a scientist or a doctor/vet. I'll actually watch them documentaries with operations in them. As time went by, they were reduced to being just hobbies. Now, I know for sure that even if I was good at it, I can never see myself doing anything of the sort.
4. I, for the life of me, cannot ride a bike.
5. My biggest fear is rejection.
6. I got the inspiration to pursue English as a degree (and hopefully more) and also as a career when I was 11; from my cousin-in-crime, Kak Ana.
7. When I'm in my own space, clothing is optional...hehe, I have nudist tendencies. That's why I try to avoid sharing rooms :p (Thankfully, in my new apartment, I'll have the master bedroom all to myself)
8. I can watch all sorts of graphic, bloody movies where people get cut up, or lose their limbs in battle or get tortured etc. And while watching, I can nonchalantly eat. But show me or let me hear someone brushing their teeth, and I start gagging.
9. I know I'm weird, but it's ok if you want to tell me that; I kinda like it.
10. My vice is clothes. I can never have too many of them. And lingerie, too. (It's such an irony, cos it clashes with point #7)
11. For many years now, I've been dreaming of owning a cafe. It should have a cosy atmosphere with regular open mic nights. Think 'The Bronze' without the dancing, or perhaps 'The Espresso Pump'.
12. I always have dreams where I'm the commander on the frontlines of war. Often I'd dream about the preparations before the battle, or about the end, where I'd give my life to save another.. Quite gloomy. Anyone a dream reader?
13. My Deadly Sins ranked, as suggested by Tickle.com, are as follows: 1. Pride, 2. Lust, 3. Greed, 4. Gluttony, 5. Sloth, 6. Envy, and 7. Wrath.
14. My ultimate dream in life is to get married to the man I love, have wonderful kids, make my family happy and have a fulfilling life.
15. I want to write a paper that would first of all affirm the importance of literature. With that being said, I'd continue to present how literature influences/provokes discourse and thinking/ideas/philosophy, whilst merging it with the Whedonverse.
16. I have a slight case of OCD. Some things need to be a certain way or I get a mite tetchy.
17. I have an obsession for cheese.
18. I think Nature's best wonders are the smell of rain, the dawn/sunset and waterfalls.
19. I hope to be a scholar, have a good career, be the daughter that my parents can be proud of, be a good wife, be a good mother, and be a good person overall.
20. I am perpetually optimistic, even when I'm complaining.
21. When I'm charged and determined, I have this song playing in my head: These Boots Were Made for Walking.
22. I'm glad to say that throughout my life (so far), a majority of my friends, old and new, have stood by me and stayed friends. This, I feel, is a great accomplishment. You guys know who you are :)
23. The most important things in life, to me, are: Family, Friends and Faith. In a word: Love.
24. My favourite movie themes are: War, Dystopia, History/Periodic, Horror/Thriller.
25. My thoughts, ideas and discourse are majorly influenced by Joss Whedon (i.e. Buffy, Angel, Firefly/Serenity, Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog)

Love, Lin~

You were Friday morning's embers
But January's fire.
I stoked the flames while
I set you alight on the pyre.

(I lied when I said I hated the smell of smoke in the air)

You rose from the ashes
Without the demon in your soul.
It was purged in the fires
And yet you still stay cold.

(I need to wash the smell out of my hair)

You led me from the rain
Spun me over, gone insane.
I'm much too dizzy, now
I cannot go again.

(You think I don't, but I care)

The song has stopped
The dance has ended for this night.
I'll hum the tune from time to time
And remember how everything's bright.

(I think the world's too big to bear)

~Linzy

A good friend of mine, Idzaid, sent a very thoughtful poem my way, something to inspire me to write. I find it to be very heartfelt and it really strikes me... You know how I say I have nothing to write about, or have no inspiration, or feel too stressed to, or a hundred other excuses...? Well, I think this poem lets me think again about the reason why I write; makes me question and makes me rethink my priorities as a writer.

**********

So You Want to be a Writer? by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewritersearching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wifeor your girlfriend or your boyfriendor your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands ofpeople who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring andpretentious,
don't be consumed with self-love.
the libraries of the world have yawned themselves to sleepover your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out ofyour soul like a rocket,
unless being still would drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing ituntil you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.

**********

Thank you for the poem, Idz. You should strum to it on your guitar, maybe you'll get more chicas that way ;) And the dog would come in handy if the singing and the strumming fails... At least a cute dog would get the girls' attention. But seriously, thank you :)

Love, Lin~

"Oh, by the way, he's still single."

Stop. Backtrack. My internal monologue that usually moves full-throttle, full speed ahead suddenly faulted and crashed with a pregnant "Huh?!".

My next reaction was: "Surprisingly" tossed back at the friend several seconds too late, said with a laugh when what I really wanted to say was: "What the bloody heck is that supposed to mean?".

I mean, really. What was that supposed to mean? You're walking along the hallways, and you suddenly bump into a mutual friend you share with a person whom you used to date. That's all fine and dandy especially seeing how your former flame is still a good friend of yours and the person in common is a nice person whom you've occassionally engaged in a conversation with. But, discount all that, what was that last statement, added almost as an afterthought as the friend walked away in the opposite direction, meant to convey?

Sure, my former is back. But unlike the usual tradition, he doesn't throw in his customary "Hey, I'm back. Lets catch up over cakes at Secret Recipe" once he touches ground here in Malaysia. My feeling is perhaps he is respecting the fact that I'm not single anymore. And I'm grateful for that because I've reconciled with the fact that we're through and that friendship is all there is between us. I am deeply in love with Ash, and am in no way considering any alternatives.

But what is this that people keep insinuating?

Sure, we still hung out after we broke up, mostly paying homage to the fact that we've been lifelong friends, and we've been there for each other throught alot, whether or not we were dating at the time. Sure, in that time there was that glimmer of hope that maybe we'd pick up where we left off, but I banished all thoughts when I found myself falling for the person I wear my Claddagh the way I wear it for. But others, well, they're either not up-to-date of the changing times or just refuse to acknowledge that.

Newsflash!
I am taken. No doubt about it, no questions asked. If you have any problems, please dial 1-800-GETOVRIT.

By the way, you're still one of my best friends, Idzaid; and I've nothing against you. But, I'm just a little tired of this people-wanting-us-to-get-back-together thing. It's a little too late for that now...and other people should realize that, too.

Love, Linzy~

I remember once upon an August, awhile since the trail was left cold; a voice came late at night seeking refuge. A voice I've not heard speak my name that way since the trail ran cold.

And I swear I thought it a dream. So sudden into sleep it came bidding my attention...and I wish I gave it that. Mind yawning too wide to hold in sleep. I forgot those wistful words for a yesterday. Forgot how it'd ached to think of posibilities but handed none. I forgot.

I do not remember now what passed for conversation that night. I can only wish I did. A hope to hold on to when even straws begin to crumble; a cruel whisper of warmth yet so cold when in night. But rather that, than the silence of vacuum.

Is it this I am supposed to hold on to? Or is it the comforts said in my ear when all was crashing like waves? Or the song on the other end of the line? Or is it the look I'm somtimes graced with...?

Tell me. Tell me now. Or will this familiar stranger call again once in an August?

Yours, Lin~

It is a slow burn to reach boiling point.
Heat turned on low, but burning bright.
Kindling flames stoking a raging fire.
I'm cold I say, but within ablaze.

Yours, Lin~

Friday afternoon. I am home after the weekly journey of railway transportations that, while too routine to be exciting, has never lost its flavour. Did not sleep much the night before, too occupied with the literature available at my disposal. Home meant rest, and I looked forward to taking full advantage of that.

Rest meant a cozy affair with pillows surrounding me, luring me into the arms of sleep. And so it did.

We dream. We all do. Every single time we sleep long enough to enter upon REM sleep, we dream. Even if we do not remember, we actually do. And for me, those dreams that seem the most real, the ones that I remember the most are the ones that are born of fatigue and weariness. And I remembered this one.

It's been a long time since I've had ones like this. The kind that you not only remember, but dwell on for days. And it's been a long time that such dreams were of lighthearted, heart-fluttering joy.

Too often have my dreams been of me leading a war; a leader on the frontlines tackling enemies head on alongside my legion, death on my heels. It scares me sometimes when the dream includes me looking into the wardrobe and thinking what I want to be wearing when I die fighting. Thinking of a million ways to say goodbye to my family. Trying to come to terms with my impending death.

And so the dream brought upon by tiredness was a reprieve from all the other typical dreams I would so often have. This was one that made me feel like I was 16 again.

And I can't tell exactly the contents of this dream. It's nothing that can be explained with words.

And words are never enough.

But I remember the feeling. It's like being 16, and 22 and 13 all at once. 16 for such mature immaturity, the memories the dream echoed and rekindled, and for the brink and bridge to fall from and to cross. 22 for the realization of more and the recognition of possibility, with slight juvenile mischief that is still present, but with the maturity of reason. And 13 for a more carefree time and a memory I have of a certain day at that age. Splashing water comes to mind. Clothes. Sandals. Change. Keys. Gate. Falling. Support. Hands. Breaking. Catching. Throwing. Laughter. Thanks.

The dream was brief. Yet real enough to have me checking my side when I awoke. I was disappointed with what I found, or did not find. But I still have a smile on my face.

And I still wonder what dreams really are. What they entail. Does it hold any knowledge we have yet to tap into? we'll never know for sure. But the future stretches far into the distance, maybe we'd find out along the way.

Yours, Lin~

I wouldn't admit it. Not vocally, anyway. But I am. Fine, I admit it, I am... shhh, don't say it. Saying gives it gravity. Makes it weighty. Makes me fall harder than I expect to. Saying it gives it life, substantiates it in some way, even if you can't touch it. But the truth is that it still lies true. I am. I don't show it but I am.

Occupation sometimes loses its flavour when you turn around and see ghosts. There is comfort yet there also is the yawning silence that rings loudly in the quiet. And in those times I find myself knocking on doors. Doors which I thought kept life within, but no one answers.

Maybe it wouldn't be for long, I sometimes think. I've gotten this far in life, and I suppose that I'll find it, or find it again somehow. One cannot tell. Too early to say anyway. But that's how it is, isn't it? The future seems to be looming near, and yet too far to touch. And while it is too far, it is coming uncomfortably fast, ready to hit me in the face when I least expect it to.

And while I wouldn't admit it, and at the same time nonchalantly see things through; I am deaf in the vacuum. And sometimes it gets to me so much I find myself conversing with apparitions. I am, you know. I am so much. And I miss it. Great muppety Odin, I miss late nights when all is still except for that quick rush that runs through.

And that, might not ever be. But I wouldn't be surprised if blue-haired old me would stumble on it again and find it as it was. But that's wishful thinking.

So I am. It comforts me. But it hurts me. But who knows? The future is around the corner.

Yours, Lin~

And I'm not saying that I'll hold on too long, too strong that come a time, if ever, I won't be able to bow out gracefully. I'm just saying, well, if ever, while even on this high, I'd know how to fall; and while I know how to land on two feet, I won't exactly be whole or unscathed. But that's alright, you know, cos I know what I'm doing.

Although, truth is, I really don't. You see me still lingering in shadows, not haunting, but still a stalwart shadow. And while I hope you don't see this vestige of my self, I hope my presence is felt. And while I understand the reason for my stay, I don't know why I don't check out from having being on a too long waiting list...that is, if I'm even on it.

And sometimes, I don't know what I'm saying, and I don't know why I say all this; but nonetheless, I understand every word. Like the things I do, it makes sense now, and it might not in the future. And yet I say it anyways, for in its public existence, I find a connection that I would otherwise lack in its opposite.

And this is what I do: being a ghost seeking a ghost. Clutching at straws, at things that I want but don't see. And I know that I can't see far enough, but I can see the now; and maybe that's enough for now.

Yours, Lin~

And maybe it is not for naught. I believe again. Well, for the moment...

Yours, Lin~

And sometimes I think it is all for naught. And deep down I know that falling could be a possibility, so I might as well stand at the edge. You can either pull me back, or you can just finish the job and push me over. Do what you see fit. I am constantly putting one foot out the door anyway.

But there are times when I reel myself back in. Seems like there's a pull somewhere in the depths. I can't see it, hell, it's murky this mess we're in. But I could swear I felt it. Or maybe that's just me wishing that it was.

I cast my eyes downwards most of the time. Too scared to look up. Scared of a truth I might not want to see glaring at me. Scared of a flicker that might be the beginning of something stronger than What I know. This is me. It's always been this way. Maybe always will.

Maybe I'll keep on running. Peer into the distance and see the road stretching way beyond and decide to run. See how far my feet could take me. Maybe stop every now and then to enjoy the view, maybe turn around and see if not far behind I see... well, see if the school bus I was outrunning is still behind me. Heck, inside it are the things that make me feel small like a child.

But I can also sit down and rest my feet and transit on to the next bus travelling on. And I can't make up my mind. I still have one foot out the door.

Convince me. Convince me this way. Or convince me the other way. Guessing games are getting a bit old. Let me know.

Pull me down. I'll let it pull me down. Sink or swim, I don't know and I don't care. We'll see.

I'm still a boat without a paddle. If you still have another place on your boat, then maybe we both can row.

Yours, Lin~

"Is there a love
Lost and found
Make it easy
Make it easy
It's not as heavy as it seems
Wrapped in metal
Wrapped in ivy
Paint it in mint ice-cream"
- Tori Amos

That's what we call ourselves at the top of our voices, eventhough in voices low, we don't even have a name. It's easier to pretend when all there is is the weight of nothing of something that once were. Maybe we dropped it on the way here.

Or maybe, we're sitting down a while to wait for the strength again to pick it up and carry it forth again. But it's not as heavy as it seems. I don't remember it being heavy.

Although, I admit, we've picked up extra baggage along the way. Some pieces here and there that contribute to this burden we have. Not that I mind all that much; this thing between us feels more like experience than regret.

People are looking to me and this thing I'm carrying and they want to know. And I? Well, I can't even figure out the combination lock to open this. I don't even know what's in this to begin with. But there they are around me, in their hands they too carry something. They are carrying an old tattered basket, on the handle of it a ribbon so white it must be new, and a borrowed copy of Buffy Season 4 Disc 3 inside it. They offer it up as they walk with me and then eventually pass me by. I don't know whether I want it yet.

And it's funny that they turn to me knowing, when really I don't. I don't know. Make this easy. Make this easy. I thought I felt that something when there was that moment in a moment. Dark, sweet, spark. I swore there was. Make it easy.

This is all it is. Whatever we have hanging in the balance. I can't see beyond, and I don't want to look too far back. I want to see what it is here and now. That is, if there is anything to see.
If not, well, then lets just paint it mint ice-cream.

Yours, Lin~

It's possible that--well, that we'd be forever locked in this vacuum where we'd never progress, nor ever find out what lies in these paths that we *might* have if we break out from this. We'd have to be the humans we are supposed to be, and fall to our knees, careful to not break as we hit reality.

It's nice to know that we aren't always lifeless like we make ourselves to be. Too many times I've realized that I've let myself become an automaton, safe and predictable. But in such welcoming reprieve, I am comforted, I am brought to peace. I find that a lock has been undone, and for a little while, something is able to stretch the legs of its long dormant wilderness and run free. I think its beautiful.

It is times like these....it gives you freedom of time in its vacuum. Allowing my mind to visit dusty yesterdays and see how they've been, though my presence isn't always welcome. I gain a little something here, lose part of me a little there... Sometimes I like burying my head in the past, and let my mind swim with memories, sweet smelling, almost like home. I love how your sense of smell can bring you back to a certain part of your life and plays a clip of it in your mind, finger pressed on fastforward. Waking up from it is both painful and sweet...it reminds you of things you no longer have as well as that you've come this far.

We live in the now, so deceitful yet so forceful in its truth. Sometimes I cannot see the blurry lines that I walk upon, wondering where it begins and where it stops. I suppose I cannot really see when I am standing on it, my footsteps marring them with each step I take.

We'd find it. Damn, I know I'd find it. It's just that, now, I am afraid of where I'll find it.

Love, Lin~

And I have found that we choose to immerse ourselves in closets of thoughts and let time bind us tight. We find ourselves reaching for the doorknobs, only to retract our hands with worried fear. 'What lies beyond?', the question plays a heavy tune. A thrumming in the back of your mind. Coupled with the wonderings of what happens behind those other doors.

We seem to not want to go on. Even when these heavy feet rellentlessly trudge through sand and stone, we often ponder on the footsteps we leave behind; wondering whether there is a wisdom in going back. The treadmarks were lies, for there were none to speak of. We would discover them deceiving the orbs of sight, forking into different paths we do are not meant to take.

Where have we gone? We ask ourselves, as we turn the pages in our minds. We have gone ways with pathways only wide enough for one, admitting no other. Trying to steal glances at the distant shadows of yesterday makes us empty; for shadows change with each change in the rays of light. So all we're left with are the dark mass trailing at out feet, lonely in its wake.

Words now have lost their flavour; a blandness that leaves a bitterness in my throat, satisfying no hunger in my mind. And all I'm left with are what I own in all of me, and whispers of a distant past. And I smile and I think that branches may continue breaking off when they descend, but they came from the same tree... I am comforted.

Love, Lin~