Sunday, 29 June 2008

Destiny doesn't make the final decision, I do.

How can we allow fate to chose our path? Is it also destiny who decides the problems we encounter? What if we make the wrong decision, or if we encounter a dilemma? Is it destiny, either way we go? Is our fate set in stone? I don't believe so. I guess it makes sense that we choose particular answers for a reason, the people in our lives are supposed to be there. But what if you never meet that one person who would make the greatest influence in your life? Is it that great force named "Destiny" which pulls us along? Do we not have enough sense to map out our futures?

I don't believe so. I do really think that it's up to me, maybe not entirely, but mostly. I believe we learn a lesson from every decision in life, whether wrong or right, not just the one we pick. And I believe we learn a lesson from everyone not just those we know. Some people argue that Life is a little like that weird Human Tetris game the Japanese game shows play. There's a screen with a shape cut into it coming towards you, and you're at the end of the hall, behind you is a pool of muck. If you re unable to fit into that shape, the screen pushes you into that pool of muck. The screen can represent the future, and the shape cut into it represents the problem we will encounter. The pool behind us shows the consequence, if we don't solve that problem. We have to be able to fit into ONE shape to get past that problem, to save ourselves from the muck.

I don't believe it's like that. I believe that there are many ways to get out of a problem, don't you agree? And falling into the muck isn't always a bad thing. We realise soon after that we would've fit into that cut-out by contorting into a different shape. And we learn, for the next trial.

Problems, Errors, Mistakes, Criticism. They're our Teachers. We know them, but not on a personal level. We learn from them, different things, lessons. They're forever present in our lives, but in different forms. Sometimes they're the ones that push us into that pool of muck, but we come out ready for a shower. The shower being the cleansing routine, after the learning routine. We accept, and understand during the shower. and we come out cleaner than we went in. You shouldn't hate your teachers. They're just doing their job. And no matter how hard a teacher is on you, at the end of the day, you would've learnt something.

Back to fate.

Sometimes we take two steps forward, then one step back. A little mindless, but we're moving nonetheless.

Saturday, 28 June 2008

Alice in Wonderland

Random post, with poems and dialogues I found :) See? I'm not entirely demented.

All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretense
Our wanderings to guide.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out —
And now our tale is done
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.

Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers
Plucked in a far-off land.

"Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it. " - The Duchess

"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail.
"There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle —
will you come and join the dance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance?

He sent them word I had not gone
(We know it to be true):
If she should push the matter on,
What would become of you?
My notion was that you had been
(Before she had this fit)
An obstacle that came between
Him, and ourselves, and it.
Don't let him know she liked them best,
For this must ever be
A secret, kept from all the rest,
Between yourself and me.

'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,'
'I don't know where. . .'
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'In that direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round,
'lives a Hatter: and in that direction,' waving the other paw,
'lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat:
'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice
'You must be' said the Cat
'or you wouldn't have come here'

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Bittersweet Goodbye #5: Take a hit.


If I just lay here, will the world realise? Will they realise that somebody from the population is missing?

I took a trip; I pierced my left arm with those needles; familiar, yet so foreign. Nobody knows what to do with me. I’ve been going on like this for as long as I can remember. Ever since I found my mothers stash. I still continued on, even after watching her cripple up on the floor, blood trickling out of her mouth, body contorting into odd shapes, eyes flickering back into her head. In fact, it inspired me, such a beautiful, dramatic death.

I saw the strip of neon, an oasis of colour and light. The drug rushed to my brain, it made me feel invincible, as if my soul was trying to break loose of my body. It made me wild with adrenaline, all this energy and nowhere to release it. So I just lay there, and witnessed the display of colours the drug had to show me. I loved every explosion of light; I loved how each sound was blasted louder than normal. I loved how the drug made me feel free.

Back to my question, I don’t see why they should; the world is swarming with people more important than I. We're all too busy with our monotonous lifestyles, and our nonchalant routines. There isn’t a person who would take time off their meaningless tasks to think about that person lying on her bathroom floor, dying.

Ironically, my temporary escape is what's permanently letting me go. It's bringing me across that bridge between life and death, and there's no turning back.

Monday, 23 June 2008

I'm tired of the sunset.


Show me a garden thats bursting into life.

Have you ever wanted to leave everything behind, and run away to somewhere new? Run away to a place where nobody knows who you are, a place where you can start over and change every little flaw you hate about yourself? Its like a second chance, right?


I got that "second chance". But i didn't take it. Sure, i left the place where i grew up, i left the friends i grew up with, i left the sights and sounds i was familiar with. Everything around me changed, the people, the language, the religions, the traditions, the ethics, the trends.. Everything. But not me.


Cause the fact that i had left that place i call home was what made me want to stay the same. I am the closest thing to that place i miss so much. And once i change who i am, i'd probably be almost completely cut off from that place.

But that's not all.

Sure, i get tempted, to "change who i am", "start over", "rewind". But I dont see the point in it. What're you gonna do? Change everything you grew up believing in, everything you grew up knowing? Everything you grew up being. It doesn't sound worth it. The people we surround ourselves with feel a certain way about us because we are who we are. And once you change who you are, you're gonna lose them. They'll have to change all their personal feelings for you, once you start over, the opinions start over. The relationships start over.

Sometimes we can't stand who we are, we hate what we see in the mirror. But there are people out there who love that very image. But i know, that when you hate yourself, the only people keeping you hanging on are the people which love you. The people which soften every sharp corner. And to lose them, just to try start over.. leaves you ending up with nobody knowing you. And losing the people you love, for that, just doesn't seem worth it.

I'm young & I love being young.

I'm young & I love to be young
I'm free & I love to be free
To live my life the way that I want
To say and do whatever I please.
We're kids, for goodness sake. We shouldn't be weighted upon with all these tasks and demands. Well, maybe we should. I suppose it's essential for us "young adults" to learn responsiblity through frustrating tasks. But couldn't they be a little easier on us? Well, on me. But I highly doubt that I'm the only teenager with endless responsibilities, right?
But hey, hopefully I'll take a leading step in that category of life. I'm probably already ahead of my older sister, she's in her own ideal little world. She's good at what she does, but she doesn't know how to get into the position to use what she's good at. Get my drift?
Its like knowing how to sew sweaters, but not being able to do anything about it `cause you're too dependent to get into a line of work which needs good sweaters.
I nearly wrote sweater sewers but then it sounded retarded. Is that correct? Sweater Sewers? It sounds like a drainage system which is clogged with cashmere garments. How nice :)
Back to topic, so I had to return to the damn mall today to pay some bill that i hadn't noticed the other day, and it was dreadful cause when i got home i thought i could finally relax, but NOOOO my father needs me to get this card cause the internet is acting up and he can't access it from his laptop. [This is where the tasks annoy me]
So after pointless trips to and from the mall, i finally got home and unwinded, and earlier that day I realised that I should be thankful for all the responsibilities, cause it'll help one day, right? right? right? Yes.
So after a while i voluntarily organised the bills in chronological order [Such a good girl, no?] And I guess the stress was getting to me cause my face started burning, allergic reaction, I'm guessing. But I lit this incense in my room and went all whimsical :) OH and Family Guy reeeally helps a stressed person out. :)

Saturday, 14 June 2008

Getaway, getaway.

need to get away

Run away. Get away.

Do you know that feeling, where you feel so stressed and there has been so much weight on your shoulders, that you just want to get away, but you can't? Thats how i've been feeling these past few days. I've been wanting to just somehow, find a way to let go and forget about the crap that's been stressing me. I need that stretch of road, and the wind through my hair. To not have a worry in the world, and all that matters is, well, nothing. Nothing will matter. And nobody will bother me. It would just be the road and I. Driving, yet going nowhere. But the thing is, i dont know how to find it. That escape. And how're you supposed to let go when you dont know how? I don't think you can.


s u m m e r
Okay so i'm kinda sad `cause summer is now officially just a memory.
And we're back to school, back to grades, back to institutions which shove crap down your throat.
But hey, at least we have friends to see everyday.
I long for the crystalline water,
clear as the starry nights.
I long for the sunny days,
where each breeze felt like paradise.
I long for the jokes,
and laughing aloud.
I long for the grass,
and staring at clouds.
I long for the beach,
white sand and seashells
I long for ice cream,
and for the heat spells.
I long for the freedom,
going out endlessly,
I long for the nights,
It was just you and me.
I long for summer.

Thursday, 12 June 2008

The Sunset.

I watched
The sun slit her wrists and
across the sky, her crimson blood was spilt.
The moon silently stood by,
the clouds misted over her view
as the sun slipped away,
past the horizon.
The sun faded into the darkening sky,
as the stars sang it a lullaby,
and the moon tucked the sun till it slept
and alone, in the sky, the moon had wept
it crashed onto the horizon bay,
and faded again, for another day.
Co-author: Gian

Saturday, 7 June 2008

Bittersweet Goodbye #4: With Tainted Hands

I feel the thin layers of skin and flesh rip beneath these blades, your eyes, which were once bright and full of innocence, are now blank and lifeless, staring into the after world. Your blood pours out onto the table, your flesh glistens in the light. My fingertips dance across your skin, your icy cold skin. I remember rocking you in my arms, singing lullabies in the softest voice. And now I see your body beneath my hands; Your raw, tender skin; my bloody, tainted hands. The blood drips from the corners of my mouth, the skin sticks between my teeth, the flesh slides down my throat.

My eyes are misting over. The images cross the threshold of my mind, along with the broken promises; of a bright future, of security, and my biggest failure: my promise of love. I had hope in you. I was going to make you a better person than I ever was. You were my chance, my only chance to be able to look in the mirror and not hate everything I see.

I remember all the things I wanted to do and become in life, and each day is a reminder that I didn’t become any one of them. There’s only so much a person can take, my child. And I can’t take it, I can’t control it; this disease, this thing that’s taking over my mind. I just can’t, because my dear child, you are not the first. And you probably will not be the last.

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick

Well, I never want to see you unhappy
I thought you'd want the same for me

Did I make it that
Easy to walk right in and out
Of my life?

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I'm trying not to think about you
Can't you just let me be?
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Should have known you'd bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do
Thanks to Gian for the help.

Friday, 6 June 2008

About Joanna Kennedy.

Okay so I was reading through my blog and I realised that EVERYTHING I write about is so.. Cynical! I suppose if you read it without any knowlegde of who I am, you'd expect me to be some goth with raven-black hair and chalk-white skin. But I'm not.

Well, I'm the kinda girl who would chase vans. As in literally run after a school bus, to just feel.. free. I'm silly, and i'd do goofy things for a laugh, `cause thats when we truly let go. I'm the kinda girl who makes up a secret language (I WAS EIGHT.) just to make you feel like you're missing out. I'm one of those girls who lies about having a secret laboratory in her closet (also eight) and wanted to be a real life butt-kicking Lara Croft (okay, I'll admit, I still wanna be her). But hey, I'm not afraid to be me. And maybe being Joanna Kennedy involves drawing a code-requesting door on the back of your closet, carrying a butter knife and a flashlight wherever you go and even writing a new phonetical alphabet and memorising it to show off, but it's who I am. And there's no one else I'd rather be.

Sunday, 1 June 2008

Bittersweet goobye #3: We all fall down.

I sat the family down at the dining table; it was only to be used on special occasions. I guess you could say this was one. I don't know why we even made that stupid decision. Whats the point of a dining table if you aren't going to be using it? So i decided to make the most of that pointless piece of furniture. My son and daughter looked at me curiously, my wife unable to even look at me.
"how could you be doing such a thing?"
were probably the words she had to stop herself from screaming out loud. There were 4 glasses at the centre of the table; one for each of us. Each glass was filled with cyanide, and a shot of orange powder mix. My kids would never know the difference. I offered a glass to my 5 year old son first. It was at that moment my wife burst into tears. I took her hand and held it tightly in my own. My children hadn't a single idea what was going on. But my wife and i had discussed this situation months ago. We didn't have a single cent in the bank. we hadn't been paying taxes. And we had wanted to part together. A few hours to let the poison settle, so the kids would go in their sleep, we agreed. It seemed my wife had second thoughts: she pushed the glasses off the table, each one shattering on the hard floor, playing a chilling tune.
"please," she sobbed, "we can work through this"
it was too late, i was expecting this to happen. I withdrew my handgun from my waist and pointed it at her, my loving, loyal wife. My children were huddled under the table, crying. My son was holding his younger sister; he was a good kid.
"I'm sorry"
i cried, tears slipping down my face.
I had painted the walls with her blood. One down, three to go.
I heard my children's screams, their loud cries for their mother. I ducked under the table, not a moments hesitation.
My sons body fell over my daughters. How beautiful; protecting her even through death. My daughter looked at me with terrified eyes. I was her daddy; I was her murderer.
So it was just me left.
I put the barrel into my mouth, the scorching hot tip burned my tongue, i could feel the flesh crippling under the heat. I nearly gagged on the cold stem, i could taste the grease. I took one last look at the bloody walls, the soaked carpet and my dead family. One last breath, one last heartbeat.