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one quiet summer night, a little boy sat on the swing of his backyard when a curious deer decided to come by and pay him a visit. from behind the iron wrought grilles, the beady little eyes glinted slyly at a delightful late night snack of local shrubbery. the boy hasn’t seen much of them as he had in the past, and was pleasantly surprised by the friend’s appearance.

both were sitting in the vastness of the summer night, worlds apart. yet for some reason, the boy understood the secrets of their silence. and the boy understood, the secrets of his silence. one quiet summer night. i love you miss kat :)

i sat somewhere near the front, but still couldn’t read the presentation on the projector screen at work today. my glasses were somehow misplaced last week, and i always have a knack of misplaced random things. they would disappear suddenly, and mysteriously re-appear a few months afterwards as quickly as they’ve gone. makes you wonder if all your belongings sprouted legs and ran all over the place while you slept, drooling on your pillow.

in a depressing note, i miss the excitement and optimism of youth. wide and bright eyed at the prospect of meeting a plethora of interesting people. but lately it’s disturbing to find myself scoffing at closed minds with ease. am i just inept? it’s fine to express an opinion, nor is it a sin to have one, but one of my biggest pet peeves is the ability of some people to believe theirs is the world that turns correctly without batting an eyelash, precisely because their eyes remain closed. and that’s still fine – until you start imposing on my ability to define my own choices through allocating false (or lack of) judgment. maybe i’m just sad that people eat meat and never vegetables, drink beer, watch ball, pay taxes and think that’s all there is to look forward to in life.

fortunately, at end of the day i don’t care about the rest of the world’s trivial snafus when i can appreciate the sunset and know what it’s like to have good uni. and the world’s sweetest little hurricane, of course. ;)

i really want to grow my hair out again.

but that my friends, is a sure way of getting fired. if that happens maybe i can live under your bed.

grab the backpack and wander aimlessly into unknown train schedules, foreign tongues, mysterious cuisines. climb hills and walk through valleys, take pictures, listen to music, reach the horizon.. only to discover the next.

live with the world on your finger, the vast expanse of adventures waiting to be conquered outside of our dreams where they flutter from one place to another. the sandman sits precariously in a sifting hourglass, but the beads of sand are too small to catch as they pass through the cracks, let alone to be noticed.

somewhere, the moon shines on silent beaches. the moon smiles at all the smallest of dreams.

there must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief.

come on, you’ve got to admit!

it’s definitely cool that you can blog whilst pooping at the same time. hooray for technology!

there’s nothing like sneaking through the back at 4:45am, and aghast at finding your jetlagged parents washing dishes in the kitchen, covertly grabbing the secret backup keys, quietly coming through the front door, and just by the purest chances of all eternity, running into your father walking the corridor as your stealth mode turns into naught. oh well. good times with soju and main street santa monica :P

the only real highlight of the week was the strawberry-banana milkshake i had with lunch at ruby’s on tuesday. i wish i could vege out again on the couch watching adult swim and moral orel, with the little hurricane..

the streets are laden with the choices we make, amidst the scatter of options where we choose to go. in some corners we find ourselves waiting to reach the other block. and we pick up a few lessons along the way of how the lamps will signal to green when the cars allow you to proceed, and how each step is taken with a moment’s breath of care.

we hesitate to ponder in the midst of bustle, that the warm kiss of a sun setting on your face can somehow offset the bitterness of frozen fingers clenched tightly into a palmed fist.

cars pass by, the birds pitter patter, and it seems like hardly anyone cares.

who am i?

long day, long week, but i’m happy as long as the weekends are guaranteed to come. there are days when i wish i was young enough to know everything, that i held the power to deduce everything into manageable chunks as i did in the broken heydays of youth. now it’s muddled by the idioms of context, syntax, and the fact that you can argue the world is flat and prove it, too.

i guess that’s why i lost interest in politics, i have washy social morals, and i’m not surprised that i generally have stopped exercising a strong opinion on several debatable issues. what has piqued my interest instead are the butterflies in the stomach, the flutter of images vaguely strange yet familiar, the elecricity of the moment when listening to music. the mystery of light and moon shine, the alteration of perspectives, the escape from the monotony of routine.

the possibility that everyday is christmas, halloween, and valentine’s, all rolled into one.

our lives are ordinary, to the extent that we structure and embrace the predetermined tasks of the next day. i’m scared of not allowing myself to discover the hidden pleasure of spontaneity, especially since a growing laundry list of responsibilities weigh heavier on the shoulders as the years come and go.

instead of throwing myself at the mercy of this romanticised idea of living life, i’ve decided on a slightly structured path that has enough airholes and branches to swing from time to time. so far, so good… unless i’m doing a good job of convincing myself that i’m doing the right thing.

after all, everything can only come at you one second at a time.