November's going already?!

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day and today is Black Friday. I had my first Thanksgiving dinner with some other Malaysians nearby. It was nice. We had turkey, pies, cranberry juice, and the whole deal (well, as best as we could make it!). Today is when many people go crazy busting doors at malls, grabbing deals on just about everything from clothes to electronics. What did I do? I slept in til about lunchtime. Uhuh. No waking up at 2 am and making my way to a mall to wait for the doors to open at 3 am. No, thank you. I'd spent enough and I think it's about time to put a hold on spending on things that aren't completely necessary until the next allowance comes in. :P

I'll be having dinner with the other Malaysian sophomores tomorrow night. We're doing it pot luck style, as usual. We'll have turkey again. And other good stuff. :) Oh, speaking of food reminds me... I'd been eyeing cake pans for a while now. I finally gave in to the urge to get one just so I can bake on the weekends. It does get really boring to stay in and just study over the weekends. I love having the smell of freshly baked or cooked things in the house, so hopefully this will satisfy my craving a little. (And I use cake mixes. No baking from scratch for me - not right now, anyway.)

Weirdly enough, I've found out that cooking can be pretty relaxing. I say it's weird because before I came here, I was hopeless in the kitchen. If you asked me to cook dinner for myself, I'd probably just settle for instant noodles. But now I actually enjoy preparing meals when I have some time to spare. Once in a while, I do succumb to making quick meals like heating up canned soup when my workload gets a little crazy. But for the most part, Beng Yen and I cook dishes we're familiar with. We've also tried some things we'd never cooked before. And so far, it has all been pretty safe. :P Everything's edible. Whew.

So yeah... there you have my short life updates. I kinda lost track of time in early November because I was swamped with school work and exams. They seemed to blur into a mass of stressful to-do lists. Now that I finally have some time to kick back and relax, November is almost over and Christmas is coming in a month. Wow.

I miss the sun (it has been below 0 degrees Celcius the whole day today - but no snow yet, just some ice on the sidewalks). I miss home in general. I guess the relativity of time has never been so prominent in my own situation before. Because even though I feel like time has flown by when I think of school, it seems to have stretched out when I think of how long it's been since I was lying on my own bed at home, listening to the crickets in the middle of the night.

My heart is in so many different places... sometimes it seems just so amazing. Yet quite painful at times, I must admit. But this sure is quite an experience.

Musings

It's another Saturday night with me facing the laptop wondering which task to strike off my to-do list first. I've got everything on the list, everything from sorting out unnecessary stationery (I just tend to accumulate so many pens and paper binders and clips and stapler bullets... Does this mean that I'm a small-scale hoarder? Uh-ohhhhh) to picking out the things that I need to keep here for the last three weeks of this semester to revising the Linear Algebra stuff that I have (sinfully) been putting off.

Instead of doing any of the above, I'm sitting here, typing away on my purple plastic covered keyboard, disliking the weird feeling in my fingertips because I cut my nails too short (and I didn't even get around to painting them because laundry took much more time than usual, what with the long queue for the machines and the rainy day that didn't dry even one hand washed shirt that I hung up).

I'm sitting here with my thick guy jacket on. It's the thickest jacket I have here and it feels like the best thing I can put on right now. It rained for a few hours this evening. I was all set to tackle my work, but when it poured, arghhhhh. I hate how the rain makes me feel so lazy and sad. (This reminds me of the SAD disorder we learned about in Psychology.) But I do love the rain especially after a few very hot days. As long as it's not the type of rain that we call olok-olok rain, which is the kind that drizzles for a while, then stops and heats up the roads and makes the drains stink.

Mmm, I really miss my own bedroom. Staring at these canary yellow walls is quite a sad thing to do. I plan to take down my Ne-Yo poster from the bulletin board, so now my side of the room is going to look the barest it has ever looked in five semesters. Most of my stuff are going to be stored in my extra luggage bag or boxed up.

All this talk about going to America in less than half a year's time is quite... a shock? Not really. It's just that it makes me wonder where did the past 1.5 years go to. Sometimes I really cannot imagine how I've already spent 1.5 years here. This room that I once thought was too yellow and a little too narrow - I've gotten so accustomed to it. Yet there is a big part of me that craves for my own bedroom every once in a while. All these stairs that I dread going up and down every day - I've gotten accustomed to them, I've even secretly thanked them for forcing me to exercise a little, no matter how little. Yet I really wish to have the staircase at home, the one with the solid banister and parquet that feels cool to the feet.

One year ago, some of us were excited about our freshmen applications. This time around, we're all a little bit more cautious, more guarded, more experienced. It feels so much more different than in the days when all I worried about was getting that admission letter. That time, my heart was filled to the point that it felt like I was overflowing with joy and then it abruptly moved to a point when I wondered that maybe disappointment can be felt physically. So close, yet so far. I told myself that it would be okay, that it doesn't matter, but it wasn't okay and it did matter. It was heartbreaking. What more could I say? It wasn't like I could turn on the waterworks on everyone else around me.

So I moved on. I've grown - as a student, a friend, a person. Sometimes, when I look back, I think, maybe this is why things unfolded that way. Maybe I had to see my own shortcomings and admit them so that I can grow. Whatever the reason, I think I took something good from it in the end. And that has helped me to see things in a better perspective. That doesn't mean that there aren't times when I wish that things had gone the way I'd wanted them to. But it does mean that I recognize its effects and I take them as they are.

One of the best things I've ever read is this: when you have a problem, step back and take a moment to think, in ten years' time, will this be important? I think this puts some things into perspective.

Enough of my musings. Tomorrow is Easter Day. Happy Easter! Make it a joyful and fulfilling one. :)

One month

It's the last day of March. One more month before we leave this place. A part of me is sad because the next time that we see each other, it'll probably be for a few days only. Yet a part of me can't wait to fly back home and set my bags on the floor, pick up my cats, and go to the backyard to make funny faces at my dogs. Nothing beats the happiness in coming back home knowing that it is home.

Being

This begs the question: what or who do I want to be?

I'm at a crossroad. If I turn to one side, I might get what I want to, or at least, what I wanted once upon a time. If I turn to the other side, I don't know what I will get. Right now, all I have to work with are descriptions, my own imagination, and my prayers. My eyes keep darting back and forth. Left or right, left or right? My heartbeat quickens, my breath catches, my forehead creases. Still nothing. I sigh - again. I pray again. How do I know which is the right route? Left or right?

I know who I want to be. Or at least some parts of who I want to be. But which turn will bring me closer to achieving these parts? My eyes flick to the left and then to the right. My palms are clasped in front of me, my feet still. It feels like I am rooted to the ground. But I must proceed, this I know. I must. But where to now? I sigh because I am plagued with uncertainty and frustration.

Left, right, left, right... I'm still at the crossroad.

I want to be sure. And happy.

On the outside

I always wonder, do blind people love more sincerely than people who can see? Blind people rely on their sense of touch as they trace the contours of people's faces. They recognize their loved ones from the shape of their cheeks to the curve of their lips and the outline of their jaws. How do we do it? We take in their entire faces, often not even recognizing all their facial features. To us, they all just blend into one complete picture. If that picture is distorted, somehow the person doesn't seem the same to us anymore.

We're constantly bombarded with inescapable urgings to conform. That glossy magazine cover graced by a size zero model. That huge billboard telling us that we look better if we stick additional individual lashes on our eyelashes. That magazine filled with photos of men with square jaws, deep set eyes, and six-packs to boot. They tell us that these are what we want. What they don't tell us that some people are meant to be size six, not zero. What they don't tell us is that sticking individual false lashes is a lot more work than you think and that we might not even look half as good as the girl in the picture. What they don't tell us is that these men aren't necessarily the best ones out there. What they don't tell us is what we often fail to see because we lap up these messages and embrace them as our principles.

The obsession with trying to be better than we already are - when did this begin and when will it ever end? Or will it ever? Which one of us hasn't ever thought that we will be happier if we are smarter or more beautiful or skinnier? Which one of us hasn't ever looked into the mirror and thought about the flaws we see staring back at us while disregarding the other, beautiful things we should see?

I have a friend who tells me about the good-looking guys she meets. She tells me how she is attracted to their looks and occasional charms. She tells me that they fall into her category of dream men. During our conversations, I often wonder, is this really what it's all about? Getting that hunk, that model-lookalike as arm candy? To show off to other people that hey, look at me, I scored a smoking one. She talks about them with a glow that I rarely see. She speaks with excitement and a huge smile, while I... well, I smile at all the right places and slip in my comments every now and then. There is no reason for me to be such a wet blanket anyway. If she likes them that way, that's her prerogative.

She doesn't believe that I value people's character traits more than their looks, particularly with the opposite sex. After all, how do I rate my liking for a guy then, she asked. I frowned for a while. Do you think I am that shallow? I asked her. How can I not be entitled to my own opinion? So what if my ideal guy differs a lot from yours? Sure, I think the conventional hunks are attractive, but that's it. Do I obsess over trying to meet and fall in love with one? If I say no, does that change your perception of me that much?

So if a guy isn't good-looking, why is he worth liking so much? she asked. I kept silent for a while, wondering how someone I thought knew me well could be so wrong. Because he just is, I said. I didn't think that any answer I gave would suffice to satisfy her curiosity. I like him because he is kind, helpful, and treats people with respect. She listened, gave it a little thought, and said, I still think looks rank above those. I shook my head slightly and rested my case. I knew this was not a discussion worth carrying out any longer.

I didn't want to condemn her views. Neither was I trying to persuade her to think the way that I do. But I wished that she'd understood me better and seen where I was coming from. I asked her why she thought I hadn't talked about any sort of relationship interest in such a long time. I just don't feel like it. I know I don't divulge a lot of things here. Sure, you read about how I shop with my friends, mourn over my pet's death, deal with stress, but there are many things I almost never touch on. Sometimes I skim the surface with subtlety that I think, years from now, even I won't understand. But so what if the last person I liked wasn't a good choice, for more reasons than one? So what if he isn't the best-looking person around or the most well-mannered one? There is always more to a person than what meets the eye. True, sometimes what we see is what we get. But even then, there is more beneath that surface, if we would just take the time to find them.

My choice might have been odd and unexpected, unlike her predictable ones. My choice might seem distasteful to her, but I stand by the fact that my feelings were based on more concrete reasons than the fact that he dresses up well and looks good in photographs like the ones she likes. Popular opinion, I've learned, can be really misleading. It makes us judgmental without us even realizing it. But then again, you may be thinking that everything I've said so far is judgmental. I apologize if anything I say hits a sensitive nerve, but my stand remains unchanged.

She plans to keep on the chase, she said. It's thrilling, like an adventure. Good luck, I said. Tell me if there are any sparks flying around, she said, like she always does. I smiled. Maybe.

Mental post-it

There is a lot we can learn about people if we just take the time to sit down and talk to them. Sometimes, they tell us the least expected things when we think that we're just going to have another round of small talk. Sometimes they reveal things that surprise us. Sometimes they make a hush fall over the table as we contemplate on what to say in response.

Yesterday, I was reminded of all these during a conversation I had with someone. Often times, we find ourselves talking about certain topics almost, if not, daily. We tend to skim the surface of things and learn just the basics of the person or a certain situation. But when we delve deeper into a topic that holds a significant meaning to ourselves, it can be really eye-opening.

It was a timely reminder to keep in mind what matters more than others.

Peace

The other day on the plane, I looked out through the window, watching as sun rays peeked through the partings in the huge, fluffy clouds. The cabin hummed with the sound of the engine, the vibrations forming a steady beat under our feet. It was well lit and warm, just right.

While gazing at the enormous clouds surrounding the metal bird I was in, I thought, surely this has to be one of the most beautiful things one can ever see on earth. I thought of all the photos of the sky and clouds that I love looking at and I wondered, can any photo ever do justice to the beauty that exists above our heads?

Up in the sky, it feels like everything and everyone else is so far away. When I get a window seat, I press my forehead to the window and stare out at the great expanse covering the earth. I sit there in awe of the scenery laid in front of my eyes. Despite flying frequently, I am still amazed by what I see when the plane cruises through the clouds. Nothing beats the feeling of tranquility that overwhelms me that for that brief moment as I search out patterns in the cloud formations that it feels like I can just touch the clouds.

Nineteen

Sometimes, I think, wow, I'm already 19. High school has become more like a compilation of prominent memories instead of a day to day scrapbook of events. At times I catch myself trying hard to remember some moments that I once thought were so precious and won't be forgotten. The first day of school, the first time I tripped on the stairs, the first time I realized that my integrity wasn't to be compensated, the first time we said hi and smiled, the first time I realized that I'd finally adapted to my environment, the first time I realized how selfish and cruel teenagers can be, the first time I learned to let go and let be. So many firsts, yet they've all blurred into one big picture.

And the lasts. The last day of school each year, the last internal exam, the last time we said hi and smiled, the last time wearing my blue and white uniform, the last time donning my black skirt and white shirt, the last time putting on my blue tie, the last SPM paper, the last time we raced to the canteen for duties, the last time I ran around bugging people for their articles, the last time I walked into the comfortingly cool computer lab, the last time I stepped into the classroom as a current student, the last time we gathered together, smiled into the camera and said we'd meet again one day, the last time we sat on the creaky stools, leaned on the wooden tables with chips and dents, and talked about everything and nothing, the last time we rushed to the labs to check on our experiments, the last time we rushed outside the school gates to grab lunch, the last time we stepped out of the school the way we'd been for 5 years.

High school once seemed so big, so constant. It was so important, all-encompassing. That is where our lives were. But once we stepped out of it, we all found our own niches, apart from each other, separated by distance and time. We find that in between phone calls and e-mails, we try our best to relate everything to each other. But in the end, we realize that we can't possibly share every little detail of our lives anymore. Sure, we talk about all the big stuff, where we're going, what we're doing, who we're seeing, what we plan to do in the next few years. The smaller things that we used to know about each other, they remain under the surface, and we know that we can't possibly know everything now.

But we find contentment in our ability to reconnect and laugh over things that used to tickle our funny bones and things that we experience individually in the present. The topics become bigger, more serious, more important, less flighty, less haha let's think about it in two years. We look at each other and go, yeah, we are different now. Look at us, talking about apartments, living expenses, careers, families. Where did those girls who talked about the latest eye candy (who, shockingly, by now, exudes zero appeal), the latest songs, silly poses for the camera, and seemingly endless infatuation go? They pop up every now and again, but they're so much calmer now, more knowing.

In the midst of all the mind boggling things that we hadn't realized we'd face at 19, we sit for a moment in silence, ponder on what is coming, and think, wow, I am only 19. Our conversation comes to a lull as we mull over what had happened, what is happening, and what will happen. So much in the past and present, so much more to come. Dreams spawn plans. Plans spawn actions. Actions spawn results. Our minds' gears click into place and we realize the magnitude of our thoughts that have come so far from glittery lip glosses to long-term goals.

I am only 19.

Recollections

Going back to school brought back a lot of memories. It made me realize how uncomplicated things were even though back then, every little bout of stress seemed so big and daunting. Funny how just a short time can change my mind about those things that seemed to matter so very much then.

Grief

Today, I saw how disbelief and grief can evoke the same reaction from so many different people. In the end, we are alike in some way after all. We are all in different stages of emotions. But we recognize that deep down inside, we all feel a sense of loss.

Our deepest condolences go to his family.

Beyond the line

Sometimes, I detest airports. For their overpriced food, the sometimes overwhelming crowd of people, the kids who refuse to stop crying/running/kicking/screaming/everything imaginable, the inconsiderate travellers, the lugging of the baggage around, and the washrooms with long queues. But most of all, I hate how they make me feel when I'm standing at the gate to the departure halls, waving goodbye.

Going against the grain

Do you think it's possible to hate conformity in a certain subject only to end up participating in it yourself? I think it is. Look around us. There are so many messages of "being true to yourself" and "staying the way you are". I don't buy those. Because in our endless quest to "be ourselves" (and boy, isn't that supposed to be the easiest thing, because who else can you imitate better?) we all become the same. We all try so hard to be different in our "own" ways that our "different" becomes the new "ordinary". So what's the point?

We're all trying so hard all the time. Trying so hard to be unique in our own ways. So caught up in the illusion that we're different in this way, that way, and just about every other way. But we're already made differently. Why do we still try to be "different", then? What is our measuring stick for "uniqueness" anyway?

All this.... is a result of frustration. Over what? A lot of things lah. Malas aku mok madah banyak gilak. But I guess it suffices to say that AKU LEJUK BAH. Day in, day out, the same ol' things go round and round. It's like, what's the deal, walking along a circular path only to see the same scenery over and over? Don't you get tired of it?

I DO. I have.

Sapa sik lejuk, seriously?

Berjeng-jeng

I feel unusually hyper tonight. And the only sweet stuff I had were one cup of cherry cordial drink, one Mentos and two packets of oat biscuits. Hmmmm.

Since I came back from church, I've been running through my music presentation slides and playing air piano. Yeah, air pianooo. Jeng jeng jenggg! (Told you I'm hyper) I put on my earphones, played Only Hope on my music player, and started tapping my desk like it is a piano (because that's the song I'm playing tomorrow - my first choice was actually a Clayderman piece, but I was told that 'it's overplayed', sooooo..). And I could actually catch myself 'playing' the wrong notes. WAH. The power of air piano! *fist pump*

It's been at least three years since my last public piano performance, so I really, really hope that I'll do really well tomorrow. I've been practicing very hard for this performance, with all the zest that I could muster. (I even stayed in the room with a big cockroach because I just needed to practice - for two hours! Cockroach! Me! Same room! TWO hours! PHEW)

So this is it. My public speaking and musical skills shall be put to the test.

Eh. This kinda reminds me of how hyper I was when we were in Kapit two years back, preparing to battle our debate opponents. Ah, the good ol' days of running from room to room barefooted, falling asleep on the bed that wasn't assigned to me, pacing the room, brainstorming, shouting, walking, worrying, screaming, crying, winning, losing, feeling. Ah, that feeling... 'twas a very good time indeed. :)

I sidetracked again, didn't I? Oops.

Here's to a good week ahead, everyone! :)

"Maybe"

You know what I like? I like having plenty of time to take my coffee fix in the morning. I like sitting back and knowing that I have time on my hands. I like familiarity. It brings a sense of security that may or may not be true because it can stem from either one of these: reality or imagination.

Who likes the unknown? With the exception of those people who say that they like the almost excruciating adrenaline rushes disguised as "adventures", of course. We all react to change in different ways. Some of us shy away from it, some of us welcome it with open arms. More often than not, we like to think that we are comfortable with change and we "go with the flow". But what about when we don't want to just run along with it?

The human emotions make interactions complicated. Many times, we think one thing, but we say something else to avoid "hurting" the other person's feelings. But don't we all always say that we like "the truth"? So why do we avoid "the truth" sometimes? We think it's painful for the other person to hear what we really think, but is it really an intrinsic selfishness that makes us think that if we do say what is on our minds, the other person will look at us in another, less desired way?

Why do we do things for other people? Do you ever wonder if selflessness really exists in human beings? Some people argue that human beings are born neither good nor bad. Neutral, I presume. So why do we give and say that "giving is better than receiving"? It is postulated that human relationships exist on a give and take basis. You give some, you take some in a relationship. If one party decides to stop giving or taking, the balance is lost and the relationship is meaningless. Think of it. When we do something that we say is "for someone else", is it really for them - for their own good and benefit - or for ourselves - for a sense of accomplishment that we lent a hand to someone in need?

It is difficult to pinpoint the exact elements that make up the human nature. There are some things that we blame on evolution and genetic make-up and the intrinsic aspects that we presume exist inside of us. But, boy, "human nature" can be quite a pain in the neck sometimes.

Wondering about the excessive use of quotation marks in this post? Let's just say that I chalk it up to the influence of all that Romanticism pumped into my system yesterday. I believe that there doesn't have to be a concrete reason for this post, because unless you can make clear sense of a convoluted mass of conformity, longing, admission, and the influences of just about every other person and thing, I think all this mumbo-jumbo is starting to make you want to ask me if I'd had too much coffee this morning.

And it wasn't even strong coffee. Whoa.

After the strong winds

When I told her that I'm kinda having fun, I didn't mean it with sarcasm. I thought she misinterpreted my words because of her response. But really, I was being honest because I'm over the bitter phase. Instead of going against the change, I've embraced it, and I think that has helped me more than I initially thought. Why fight when I can follow this path and still be happy?

I used to be a dreamer but I'm not sure if I'm such a huge dreamer now. I think my perspectives have changed a lot and I feel more like a realist now. Is that something bad? Not necessarily, I think. Who says we can't dream and be realistic at the same time?

The previous storm has settled, leaving in its wake a sense of calm and stability.

Superficiality

I want to say this.

We skim the surface and leave the depths unexplored. We leave sentences hanging in mid-air, even though we really want to pursue them. We think that our nods suffice, that no elaboration is necessary. We let the silence grow because isn't that just how it works?

That's what we often make ourselves think.

There are things I want to say but never do because I don't feel like it is ever right to. It never feels appropriate because I don't think you ever want to talk about them. It never feels right because I don't think you care about them anyway. All I'd get is prolonged silence that'll just stretch 'til someone pipes up with something completely different. Then we pretend that whatever it was was never brought up and we just forget it, adding another item on our list of things unsaid. So what if we just let it slip by? It's okay, we don't have to talk about it anyway. Except that I wish we can.

I'm starting to think it's all a little too superficial, too dependent on the give and take that we are supposed to follow. The theory is something that everyone is supposed to subscribe to, one way or another, but who says that we have to do it that way? Who says that we have to keep ticking the boxes in the checklist that is supposed to summarize our interactions? Who says that we have to be that way just because the textbook guide to life says so?

All I want is some depth and abandon. And those are the things that try as I might, I cannot find. I know that they exist somewhere. But tonight, I'm beginning to think that I've been holding out for something that I doubt is coming out of this.

I have found them elsewhere, but I still wish I can find them here.

Music

It figures that having been quite lazy to blog as of late (I chalk it up to lack of interesting stuff in my routines and well, plain laziness, duh), it just figures that I have to feel like blogging at 1.24 am on Monday, when I'm supposed to be sleeping. Yeah, I've returned to my normal sleeping patterns. No more sleeping at the stroke of midnight! (Also, no more midnight Milo. Boohoo) No more sleeping before my normal bedtime! (Uh-oh, Mummy won't be too happy to read this... Heh...) Also, no more late-night episodes of The Nanny and MTV Made. I got so addicted to these two shows during the holiday. Now I really miss them. And Psych too. I miss laughing at Shawn and Gus' antics of busting criminals out of the blue, unarmed and without a plan. Psych rocks! (Now if only someone else in my circle watches this too. Boohoo)

A few hours of my night was spent working on my music presentation slides and making another photo collage for one of the slides. Here I have to say: I love Photoscape - it's so user-friendly and it yields satisfying results. Good for the uninitiated in Photoshop like myself! Okay, back to what I wanted to say. While working on my slides, I realized how much I've been influenced by mainstream music. I love pop music and I say that without shame. I know that many people knock manufactured pop music and diss it for being shallow and superficial. But I beg to differ. Not all pop songs are all bubblegum and happiness. Not all are made up of tunes that just anyone can compose. Not all are meaninglessly written to feed the mass audience's tastes.

That does not mean, however, that I do not respect other music genres. In fact, I'm quite big on RnB, rap, (and the occasional dose of modern rock). I'm quite put off by people's dismissiveness when it comes to genres such as rap and hip-hop. Not all such music is infused with negative elements and ought to be ignored. Some songs can show us how talented some songwriters are in rhyming and weaving their words together. How many people can do that? Plus, sometimes we all need some upbeat tempo and rockin' tunes in the music we listen to.

Some consider people like myself uncultured, but I don't think that's the case. Who says that culture is restricted to only "high class" things such as Broadway shows, operas, and ballet performances? Who says that to be cultured, one has to don suits and gowns and attend lavish events? Culture covers such a wide scope of everyday things that make us who we are. That guy breaking his moves on the dancefloor, that girl standing in the corner, strumming her guitar with her eyes closed, that woman singing a self-composed song onstage in a bar, that man playing his harmonica in his old store - who says that they are not cultured?

So what is culture to you?

:)

Counting my blessings, I realize that I have so many reasons to be happy.

You know that feeling of contentment you get from realizing how much you are loved and cherished, how precious you are to someone else? Nothing can top that.

Cats in the bag

I don't believe in there being not a single secret between any two persons. This doesn't imply that I do not trust people, because I do, but not just in the blink of an eye. We all harbor secrets, things that we don't want anyone - not even the closest of those around us - to know. We keep them to ourselves because we are afraid of the consequences that follow if we reveal them to others. The skeletons lurking in the closet may be small and relatively harmless, or they may be big and scary, so dark that we just chuck them to the darkest recesses of our minds, willing ourselves to ignore, and eventually, maybe forget. But secrets aren't that easy to forget.

Having been a sounding board and confidant to people I didn't expect to come to me, I can say that I've heard things I never thought I would. But what else can you do when a friend calls you up, sobbing her heart out, instead of comforting her and listening to her? What else can you do when someone looks into your eyes and say 'keep this between us' except keep mum? Sometimes, the urge to tell is so great because of circumstances. But, at the same time, is it worth risking the relationship? Maybe, maybe not. Because some secrets... well, maybe they aren't meant to be secrets. I dunno.

Here's a personal pet peeve that I have to get off my chest. To whoever I have not met or talked to for a while (meaning months or years), instead of grilling me for my grades so that you can compare our academic standings, I think I've got better things to do than pull out my grade report for you. Seriously, give me a break. Just because you think I'm a goody two shoes does not mean that I don't read chick lit (and actually enjoy it! Yeah, complete with all the drama and scandals!), wear eyeliner and lipstick (you think I think that make-up degrades women? NO), have a fondness for earrings and necklaces (since when are "bookworms" not allowed to accessorize?), enjoy tv dramas that sometimes make no sense, and just loaf around. Really, I didn't know that being studious always has to mean that one has no life. And yes, my fingernails are bloody red in color, and I like them that way. What? I actually spend my time painting fingernails instead of mugging? If you can see me right now, you can bet I'm doing the eye roll that I've been perfecting over the years.

Sometimes I really, really hate stereotypes.

Reality

Things have changed so much more than I’d expected. We knew that someday, somehow, the equilibrium might be affected. But we were hoping that it would be momentary, not like this. Right now, I don’t quite know what to say to you because there is so much that I want to say but I’m not allowed to speak of these things. I’ve consolidated my knowledge and I think I’ve gotten the bigger picture now, but I cannot find a way to communicate it to you, unless...

He said you’d be happy to see me. I think so too, but that doesn’t take away the fact that we might just end up pretending like nothing is wrong. I don’t want normalcy to return for only that short span of time, but at the same time, who am I to say how things should go? Now that all this has happened, all I can say is, please, don’t leave everything at stake this way because it’s not worth it, after all this time. You're not listening to yourselves, are you?

Right now, I don't know if I want to plan for that day. What's the point if all we'll do is fabricate and pretend?

The point of this post is to highlight my disappointment in how friendships (I'm referring to platonic ones here) can take one wrong turn and cause everything to go out of whack. After all the time you've invested, and all the things that you've gone through together, if it ends up like this, it's not worth it.