if

9.30 p.m.
Another message:
"If I lose the world because of you, I wouldn't lose you for the sake of the world" - Byron. I am not giving up on us
............................

Such spirit should be saved to salvage another soul, not mine.
Exhausted, I really can't hold on to more when my hands are both full

I am not asking for sympathy - oh please - as IF - not asking for anything, even respect of my decision

Something I have learned from my grandmother, from my DBSK, when no one opens the door for them, they just keep working hard, do what they know is right. I will do the same now.
............................

I wish my mother could have the strength to carry on.
Seeing her, like this, in pain, lost, at the verge of insanity, it hurts me so much I want to burst. I miss grandma too. Just that I can't be the emotional one, when I am depended on.
Just like grandma is her world, she is mine... Today I woke up, and the sky was pouring down, what angers you? What pains you to shed so much tears? What drives you mad and frustrated? - like a child, I hid myself in my blanket... pretending I did not see the tantrum of the sky. My hands are full, I can't hold on to more.
............................

Not going to talk to my mother tonight.
Not going to talk myself into a insanity anymore.
If I go on like this, If I give in to my emotion, If I stop just for a couple of minutes and try to deal with the mess I am sitting on - I am positive, I will end up breaking down, JUST LIKE BEFORE
............................

Listening to Insa, now. . .
and at least feel glad, I can still hold on to their music
and breath out softly
and have a bit of faith - that this is just not the end yet
and breath in slowly
if
if
if
...
if

sitting on a mess

Sitting on a mess

I am sitting on a mess
not out of bed sheet or pillows
or dirty laundry of yesterday - or a week before
Not something tangible
thus I can't get out of my seat
and tidy it up

I am sitting on a mess
of words, phrases, sentences... unwanted
or maybe wanted
break into syllables, then put together,
How can I put it across, to you
my beloved grandmother, mother?
how can mere words ease the pain?

I am sitting on a mess
of emotions: frustration, anger, desperation
or even contentment
I know not the precise phrase
to capture this feeling. SO
I keep quiet
inexplicable deafening silence...


I am still sitting on my mess
finding the correct word
to tell you
something so simple
such as

I miss you

...........................

I feel like swearing

but then I won't. It is just frustration, the unrest mind, the guilt struck soul...
I have to be able to "write" again, I have one week, no, actually one day, till the sun rises.

I have been trying to write something for my grandmother. Bitterly I laugh at my final decision. I have this pathetic list of people I want to write to. She was on it since last Mar, I kept thinking "next weekend" Like a cat chasing after her own tail, I was lost in my mountain of work, of pills, dreams and nightmares. Half written letter, I burned up the ashes of my irresponsible youth yesterday, in the endless chant of prayer for her soul. I wish you peace. Nothing else. I wish you peace. forgive me, I was far too reckless and confident.

Fate and her ugly game, right when I thought she was being nice to me, showering me with love of parents and best friend, the spark of end season romance and success in study... she prove me WRONG. A nasty goddess would feel ashamed if she is too nice to someone, I guess. But of all things, of all people, she chose grandmother - I never thought my light house would distinguish her source of guidance so soon...

I started a week back - it does not make any sense till now. Why the hell is it an elegy, while my grandmother only loves to read casual letter from us? I remember her last letter to me, shaky handwriting, she was apologizing for not being able to write any longer for her hands were shaking too much. She was apologizing for her "ugly handwriting". I could not have seen a more beautiful letter - even in her old age, she penned down her love for me. Handwritten, so much efforts and so much care - how dare I took it for granted

I was in a mess, emotionally. Type, retype, write, rewrite, scribble, toss and turn. Isn't it too sad when it is too late to tell her some simple things: like how much she means to me, how nonsensical my hurtful words were... that I don't ever hate her, in fact I admire her so much? Children do not have the maturity to write an elegy, an adult told me that. I remember my anger, of being called children, of being perceived less than what I can do... I kept silent. I talked to her now and then, now that she can hear me everywhere I go, I talk to hermore often that the lazy phone call miles and miles away from Hanoi. I remember her excitement and cheerfulness just hearing my sleepish voice over the phone, my imperfect Vietnamese, my abnormal accent...

24 hours, and I have to get it done. I told her so, and I will keep my promise.

I am sitting on a mess... picking up fragments of tossed, unwanted lines I left on the floor.
She never thought I was a beautiful mess - just a mess she loved - an imperfect mess - that she loves with her life

...........................................................................................

I need to hear my mom's voice, like a guess game, I weigh how much she misses my grandmother today... estimating the depth of her sorrow... I need to hear her voice so I can sleep. I am scared too, hearing her exhaustion, another cry? another self-blame monologue? What now? I love her so much it hurts that I am so fking far away, that I am like a ghost, come and go, leaving her broken just like that...

After our daily talk, I am left alone with new familiar emotions... what now? what is best for us? I don't know

629
that is the number of times I played Kiss Shita Mama, Goodbye in my ipod, since my grandmother passed away

502 for Thunder
and 49os for the rest of my Dong Bang lullaby

nowadays, if not for the healing voice of DBSK, I would go on 4-5 days sleepless - for every time I close my eyes, my half written, scribbled letter wakes me up, like the cruel laughter of Fate: Why wasting time on sleeping, when u have so much work to do?


............................................................................................

still sitting on a mess
sorting out my own life

light house

One short sleep passed, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death thou shalt die.

......................................
Grandma,
I am sorry, I am sorry I could not grow old soon enough, to let you see the woman I become
I am so sorry I am home soon enough, to get scolded by you even for the last time
I am so sorry I have not made you proud, nor have I done anything to lessen your worries about me.
I am sorry I could not fast forward the time to show you my boyfriend, to stand in front of you in my wedding dress, to let you know I am in good hands...

I am sorry I am home too late...

I mean it, I am sorry.

...................................

Softly I chant a prayer for her... monotonous, disrupted and broken in foreign tongue. I always think when I am home, she would always be there, without fails, always be there to wait for me... Too naive, am I? to think I am the only one who need her... to think her life revolves around waiting for me tirelessly in the corner of Hanoi... to forget she has walked this lonely journey more than 40 years, waiting for the reunion with my grandfather

I should have been happy for her departure... My grandmother did not suffer. Maybe, this is the way I chose to see it... To see her sleep and slip into the other world with a smile, hands in hands with my grandfather... Maybe death is not that scary, for there are lovers await us on the other side... I should, but I could not.

I am selfish, I am still a pain in her neck all the time. I love her to bits but I could not bring myself to ever agree with her on any term... I am selfish and childish I still need her in my life. I am selfish and childish I just want her for my own... She promised to match-make me, she said I am the MOST difficult grand daughter she ever has, thus she must work hard to get me a proper husband... But now she is gone, what am I supposed to do? Does she know I still depend on her so much??? even holding on to her silly promise?

.......................................

itouch keeps on playing a song: Kiss Shita Mama, Sayonara...
Now I understand... even if it is just a lie, even if it is spilled coffee over my new bed sheet, even she made another mistake, scolding me for no rhyme and reason... I still want it all... I claim it all, her hot temper, her forgetfulness, her strange ideas... if she could still see me tomorrow, when I return, if she could still ask me again: how are you doing?

Things I took for granted, now I want them so much... I want them back, those last four years of her life, I have always been away from her, those hurtful words I mark... those lies that I could not stand her

It is not that I could not stand her, it is just that I cannot stand not having her in my life

....................................

Safe journey, Grandma
We will meet someday, at the end of my restless road... one fine spring day

.....................................

the notebook

Young Noah: You're bored Allie. You're bored and you know it. You wouldn't be here if there wasn't something missing.
Young Allie: You arrogant son of a bitch.
Young Noah: Would you just stay with me?
Young Allie: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we're already fightin'
Young Noah: Well that's what we do, we fight... You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you're back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
Young Allie: So what?
Young Noah: So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard. We're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What's it look like? If it's with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that's what you really wanted. But don't you take the easy way out.
Young Allie: What easy way? There is no easy way, no matter what I do, somebody gets hurt.
Young Noah: Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do YOU want? What do you WANT?
Young Allie: It's not that simple.
Young Noah: What... do... you... want? Whaddaya want?


...........................................


reminds me of "The way I love you" by Taylor Swift.
They were a mess, my beautiful mess. But their ridiculous love was something which never failed to make my day.

I miss their madness of fighting over silly things, I miss their chaos, their bickering, the you-are-a-pain-in-my-ass-but-i-love-you-to-bits relationship they shared. D for past tense, D for the messy after math of the-why-the-hell-did-they-break-up, the walking away when both still love one another. Now he is a piece of cloud floating around aimlessly, and she with her new lover, conforms to this trying-so-hard-to-please young woman. I miss observing their endless fight, knowing well, they will make it up to one another just by a gentle touch.

I miss and I love both of them, not now, but once upon a time back then, when they were stupid and when they were together. We all settle for things, which are "easier". I was abandoned in a sense for the person of the yester-year finally gave up on my obnoxious behavior. So what? I am not gonna change, though my own mother commented I should not be so difficult.

...................................

Noah: I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.

...................................

we don't have to be the same to be in love

opposite attracts - again I smile, thinking of this particular sentence from the past. Yes, opposite attracts, but what stay? adjustment, the attempt to be less of ME, to be more of "US" makes 2 people stay together

but then again... I must love someone for who he is, full package of talent and insanity, ambition and obsession... I miss home
...................................

for being "wicked"

Half-hanged Mary
by Margaret Atwood

I was hanged for living alone,
for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin,
tattered skirts, few buttons,
a weedy farm in my own name,
and a surefire cure for warts;
Oh yes, and breasts,
and a sweet pear hidden in my body.
Whenever there's talk of demons these come in handy.

"I hurt, therefore I am"


Mary Webster, sentenced to death for being "strange/weird/wicked" - just another word for being "DIFFERENT". If I had lived in that society, I am pretty positive I must have been hanged not twice but skinned alive like the little fox and animals in China by now.
.....................................................


"I hurt, therefore I am"


.....................................................

"wickedly" sarcastic, "wickedly" sharp, "wickedly" sensitive
Mine mine, what have I become?
The mirror of life, reflecting its hideousness and beauty?
The echo of the world, shouting back in double, triple amount of what it whispered to me - most of the time, not kindness but cruelty and hurtful remark

I was hurt, therefore I close my heart, therefore, I guard my sense, therefore I defend before being attacked.
I was wounded from top to toes, from flesh to bones, therefore, I know where it hurts the most, where the pain is most unbearable, therefore I in turn, master the skill of inflicting pains on others...

I have moved from the very definition of kindness and forgiving, to the twisted soul of a fighter, a defender, being indifferent to people's pain - it does not hurt that much, why are you complaining? The more excruciating the pain is, the better, faster, more unforgettable the lesson you learn... In one way or another, we all should learn, don't we? SO why take the easy way out. Get burned once to NEVER play with fire twice.

Little do I realize, different people value different things, and possess different level of tolerance toward pains... Even endurance to hardship. Since the very beginning of my journey to Singapore, I was unable to make sense of my room mates' tears - being their 1st time away from their parents. More precisely, I was unable to make sense of my own emotion - why I was unable to shed that lake of tears too? Why I was so different - my pride or my curse of being "abnormal"

.............................................

I am not proud of what I have learned, through fictions and facts, to reality and literature... Margaret Atwood certainly has become my favorite author. Miss Lin told me to read more of Robert Frost, for I lack the love for nature, for I lack the appreciation for the world around me... In stead I get myself in to Atwood.

I do not expect to be understood. I do not demand sympathy.

I ask for nothing from you.

............................................

In the middle of my personal statement, I wonder what I should write, about myself
About my desire, my worth

............................................

Tough luck, folks,
I know the law:
you can’t execute me twice
for the same thing. How nice.

I fell to the clover, breathed it in,
and bared my teeth at them
in a filthy grin.
You can imagine how that went over.

Now I only need to look
out at them through my sky-blue eyes.
They see their own ill will
staring them in the forehead
and turn tail.

Before, I was not a witch.
But now I am one.

...

Having been hanged for something
I never said,
I can now say anything I can say.
...............................................

what am I now?

Melting the ice

Remembrance
by Emily Bronte

Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
That noble heart for ever, ever more?

Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring:
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!

Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee,
While the world's tide is bearing me along:
Sterner desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!

No later light has lightened up my heaven;
No second morn has ever shone for me:
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

But when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy;

Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.

And even yet I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

.....................................................................

The clock is ticking . . . . . Comes 1st of Oct.
Time passes by so fast sometime I wonder if things are real... Flashback from the past burdened my heart. Yet the shocking incident yesterday made me realize: in some part of my shattered and frozen heart: the ice is melting.

I ran across a person from yester-year who once was the world to me. For that split second, I felt no anger, no remorse, no stir... Just a pure calmness of we-pass-by-each-other-so-what? I went back to what I was doing.

Is it true that I have learned to accept hurtful experiences? Is this true that incident from the past can no longer make my heart ache? Or simply because it is life. Because I have tons of things to complete thus my level of tolerance toward absurdity and nonsense has decreased tremendously till I reach this point of callousness, indifference? I know not

But for some reason, I am glad. Knowing the ice is melting, wound of raw love and passion from the past have gently and gradually close its mouth

CLOSED - CLOSE

I still remember things I was taught, but in a grateful way. How many months since the last time we talked... 28th April 2007 ... counting down. In the next fifteen April, I may still remember vividly the way things were, the person I was, the love the ideal and childish utopia I imagined. . .

I never could have imagined, before I could ever write him a love poem, I had already written him an elegy.

..............................................................


Life as a Cassie
As I promised myself, I did something incredible, I placed my payment for the DBSK DOME concert DVD yesterday, with my own money. ^^ . Ruam, my dearest best friend, an ardent SHINEe lover who is sometime distracted by the hotness of 2PM told me her plan to get to SME as a staff. I laughed my heart out, but with a huge grnt,I think she could really make it, if she wants it badly, enough. Knowing Ruam, maybe one day.

Me and her, and our love for K-pop, our friendship... We have decided our separate ways for the future... We want different things in life, simple as DBSK and SHINEe, to university of choice. I know, we are working hard, at least to get to the same city, or the same state.

"Promise?"
"same city? New York"
-laugh- "Maximum 2 hours away from one another?"
"Promise!"

The thought of us, being able to stand strong together until this moment, after 4 years of hardship, bickering, hurtful rumor... warm my heart.

Ruam... and K-pop... and DBSK are you the gift from above, sent to melt the ice in my heart?

......................................................