when you feel you’re alone

when you feel the world was never enough

when you feel they keep pushing you

when you feel you’ve got no time

was that mean we’re losing it?

or we just lost it?

is there anyway to get back?

is there anyone you could rely to

anyone that makes you stand again

when it was the 49 time you’re fall?

don’t make them blind your eyes

when your eyes was made to see everything for 1000 years

don’t make them close your mouth

when your mouth can made a beautiful peace

don’t make them break your heart

cause it was so hard to mend it

don’t make them hit you till you’re weak

the truth is your stronger than them

don’t make them fill your heart and made you think you’re just like them

because you know what dear…

you are diffrent

you are made to reach more than they could reach

you are made to change them

you are made…

lately i’ve seen lots of photographs of my friends in the social networks showing that they’ve traveled to another country/ies. with various kind of styles, they took a shoot of themselves with a specific background scene, either a landmark/famous building/tower/statue, etc or a scenery of the country.

i’ve been wondering,  are they truly an adventurer or just wanna show off to others that they’ve visited foreign country/ies which will be so called “cool” :p well i guess, it can only be known by God & themselves

regardless of their “enthusiastic” acts & their “hilarious” photos, i appreciate their efforts in making their journey to be acknowledged  & seen by others. and perhaps, in another way, those photos can trigger the people  (including me) to have the same journey or even more. let’s just see…

but for the moment, i still don’t have the desires to go abroad B-) just happy to be here with me, myself and i…

I’m feeling down again, easily annoyed, and I’m not quite sure why…there’s a lot in my mind right now, stress about uni, papers to write, exams coming up and then my constant frustration about not being able to communicate as fluently as I want to /am used to. On top of all this, I just realized that this is the first year in my life that I’ll be all alone for Christmas, without anyone of my family around me… Not that it should matter really, should it? I mean, they don’t really celebrate Christmas here in Japan…but there’s still tons of Christmas-decorations, -commercials, –movies and all the rest that we have in Europe, so it will still be Christmas, even though I won’t really be part of it, as I always used to be… Where will I be, what will I do, with whom will I spend those days? Will I go to Nagano right when the JSP is over on December 16th, or should I wait until after Christmas or what? At least I do have my Japanese family here, but I have to move out from them… Then there’s the Tokyo Career Forum that I want to attend on December 21-22nd, so I have to be here anyway. Oh I just don’t know! It’ll be alright, somehow, so I don’t worry too much, but…somewhere, deep inside myself, I can hear myself screaming, asking the outer me what the h*ll I will do, what will happen. I feel guilty for abandoning my parents, being so far away, when I’m all they have. But I can’t live my life for them, I have to live it for myself, right? I feel guilty for being so far away from my aging grandparents, my granddad getting more and more senile every day. Will he recognize me next time we meet? Will there even be a next time?

People ask me if I don’t miss my family, when I’m constantly far away from them, and I usually say no, which is the truth. The thing is that I grew up this way, always being an ocean away from the ones I love, my family, so I’m used to it. I still love them though, I just don’t miss them as others would…it’s hard to explain.

I’ll be alright, somehow. I just have to believe in it.

four christmases: “you can’t spell families with out lies”

Mulan: “no matter how hard the wind blows the mountain will never bow to him’

American beauty:”never count on others but yourself”

as soon as i remember another movie line i will post it again

its sound like name of a song right? did you know that song called bitter heart sing by zee avi you should google it she is awesome!

ok. this post was not about love it’s about my friends in my new school. my school is a boarding school but we can choose boarding or not. i have 8 girl friends in class 5 of them was boarding and the other three is nonboarding and it was me, nana, and raisa.

when you with your friend 24 hour for 5 days you must be very very close to them. and it’s what happen the five of them was very close. so every time we should make groups theyre going to have groups with only the 5 of them and 3 of us was gonna left behind. and sometimes its taste bitter. i think thats a very fit phrase to express my feeling bitter. and when you feels like that youre gonna have 5 second of blank, no no thats wasnt fit. so what i’m trying to say is when you felt like that for a moment youre gonna feel like theres someone who take you to the other world only for 5 seconds. and he take us very rudely.

so every time we have to make groups were gonna stuck with the same friends. i don’t know if they always stays with only 5 of them they are gonna be in their comfort zone. so their never try to make groups with the one who is not boarding.

but actually thy are nice. they are very nice. and i know they dont mean it. but i also feel very thankful because i learn that i can’t be like them and i know how that felt you know being left behind. and i was like them when i’m in junior high. so this is my promise ” I WONT LET SOMEONE BEING LEFT BEHIND, AND LET THEM STRUGGLE WITH ONLY THEM SELF” amen.

every time they being like that i cheer my self up with this words “their together for almost a week! just let them” but you know what guys… i really hope that all of you can change. you know guys it was taste bitter

Years ago I took a deep breath and leaped in the deep end of an immersion course in French – in France. One of our assignments involved presenting a lecture to the class about our professional work. I took out my PowerPoint slide-show and staggered along in my very basic French as images of my artwork appeared on the screen. My classmates were very supportive, and so was the tutor. At the end he said, “Vous êtes une vrai créatrice!”

I thought, Hey, that’s cool. I feel more like a “créatrice” than an artist; I’ve never really found my niche in any of the sub-groups that make up the contemporary art world. As I’ve written on the wonderingmind website, I don’t really have things to say – I simply have things to make.

It’s amazing that, given the complexity and scope of the English language, we have no word for people who see themselves as run of the mill creators or créatrices. The former term is reserved for holy books, and the latter doesn’t exist. And we certainly have no word for the artisan whose work is not planned or premeditated and who has little or no mental construct regarding the finished product or how it will be achieved.

But the French do. It’s bricoleur.

“Bricolage … is a French word that originally meant something like the English tinkering and, referring to the way the home handyman, for example, makes do with whatever tools and bits of material he happens to have to hand, improvising where necessary. This homely term was raised to the status of a theoretical concept by the late Claude Levi-Strauss, founder of structural anthropology, in his book La Pensée Sauvage (1962; translated as The Savage Mind, 1966).

The bricoleur, in Levi-Strauss’s account, becomes the paradigm for the way of thinking of tribal people, as opposed to what he calls the “engineer”, who epitomizes the rational and scientific mind. The engineer plans his operations in advance, secures the appropriate equipment and materials, then carries out the project. The bricoleur feels his way towards solutions, without conceptualizing the project from the outside, and essentially by rearranging the already available materials.

Ultimately, this is part of a cultural fabric that changes and adapts, but without progressing in a linear or historical fashion.”
~ Christopher Allen, art critic: Object Lesson in The Weekend Australian Nov 14-15 2009

Les Bricoleurs are my tribe. I love the notion of being part of a creative culture that “changes and adapts” leaving no historical trace and possessing no need to “progress”. Like life itself, the work of the bricoleur flows endlessly out of the immensity of the moment – and includes the materials and equipment at hand, the techniques and skills amassed, all stirred up with the content of one’s consciousness at that moment in time. The bricoleur remains clueless as to what might end up on the canvas, the paper, the loom. She makes. And later – sometimes years later – meaningmind catches up with wonderingmind and a title appears on the work. And she thinks, Crikey! So that’s what that was all about!

Tidak cukup orang lain mencerca dan menghina negara kita, perlu ke rakyat sendiri mencerca dan menghina negara mereka sendiri?

Pada aku, di mana bumi dipijak, di situ langit dijunjung. Kenapa sesetengah dari kita tidak pernah bangga menjadi anak Malaysia? Malah mengagungkan negara lain.

Yang khilaf adalah para ahli politik; baik kerajaan atau pembangkang.

Yang rendah mentaliti adalah kita sendiri. Jangan salahkan bumi Malaysia.

Jangan sesekali memanggil Malaysia selain dari namanya. Lagi2 panggilan yang menghina. Cukup orang lain memanggilnya sedemikian, jangan kita sendiri menambahkan luka. Semata-mata ingin kelihatan atau kedengaran cool.

Ludah ke langit, akibatnya jatuh ke muka sendiri. Di mana kita mencari rezeki, sesuap nasi untuk mengisi perut yang kosong, kalau bukan di Malaysia. Kalau bekerja atau belajar di luar negara pun, kita patut bersyukur sebab kita dilahirkan di Malaysia yang bagi aku cukuplah selamat untuk kita bernafas.

Apa lagi kita mahukan? Apa lagi yang kita tidakk berpuas hati? Hina sangat kah Malaysia hingga diperlakukan sedemikian oleh rakyatnya sendiri?

Yang hina bukan Malaysia, tetapi rakyatnya sendiri. Jadi siapa sebenarnya hina?

Lihat dari aspek sukan. Kalau sesiapa yang membawa nama Malaysia dan menentang pasukan lawan dari negara yang lebih gah, pasti hanya sedikit yang percaya akan pasukan Malaysia. Bakinya?

Contoh: Manchester United vs Malaysia. Ramainya penyokong The Red Devils tidak terbilang.  Perlu ke kita sokong Devils? Check dictionary maksudnya.

Please have some faith in them. Ye, kadang-kadang silap pemain atau pasukan itu sendiri, mereka tidak menyerlah. Tapi kita perlu faham, sekurangnya mereka terpilih membawa nama Malaysia sedangkan kita? Hanya melihat dari jauh, dan hanya bijak mengkritik.

Sesiapa pernah membawa nama sekolah, negeri atau negara dalam apa jua agenda, pasti tahu dan pernah merasai perasaan itu. Aku faham.

Apa yang sebenarnya aku nak sampaikan ialah aku tak puas hati dengan sesetengah rakyat Malaysia yang tak pernah bersyukur dan berbangga menjadi rakyat Malaysia. Nak jadi rakyat apa lagi? Luaskan ilmu dan pemandangan dan anda tau apa yang terjadi di luar sana. Then, you will appreciate more.

Last night was fun, Leon , Hitch and I enjoyed some nice sights, but nothing more than that really.
For some reason, I have started to get anxiety shocks and guilt trips when I see all of these girls outside.
I try to look at people through different lights, as all unique individuals…
-But I just cant, all I can see is all the dirt and it makes me sick.
Even if there is someone I see that looks very interesting, strangely enough, not even under influence can I make a move, just feels wrong in every way.
It is not a question of the struggle going out hunting for girls, but it seems these environments arnt the grounds for me, too many bad thoughts and ‘flashes’…too painful to go into detail here but the bottomline is: Damn, am I really that weak still?

I feel like I have just about perfected my new hairstyle, drawn from inspiration from my friend Leons kickass aggresive spikes, I have constructed my own interpret

The formula for success is very simple, just base-mold it with Got2B Glued, shape and stabilize with spray( I use Wella or Fructis bamboo),
and then just define it again and give the final touches with the help of Got2B Glued.
I prefer to regularly style my hair nowadays because I think when left flat it just looks like shit, plus I feel my hairstyle should reflect myself; agressive, fierce and special.

I am special, maybe not always in a good way but thats just who I am.
But is it really that bad that I’d want to change?
I am a deep person, I have reflected upon life probably a hell of a lot more than most people, but still I dont understand everything, I am scared and i keep making mistakes.
But being cautious, thoughtful, compassionate, dignified, observative and silent; is that always bad?
Combined with my natural colourfulness, I dont find it such a big problem, but it sure does show in many situations, and can ruin alot.
But everybody can change, we just have to learn the right way and about the right things in life.
I wonder just when I will get over my faults and change in to a real man.

To learn is to change.

Ada banyak kisah yang mau dikongsi bersama.

dura, ko jangan tanya ade ke orang nak baca kisah aku ye. kalo orang lain tak baca, ko baca kan? please don’t deny it babe.

walaupun aku tau dura amatlah super nervous dan super busy untuk melayan aku.

well, minggu lalu adalah minggu yang stress untuk aku. belum habis stress nya sebenarnya. stress sampaikan secara tak sengaja, aku ada buat orang tu tersinggung. hurm.. itu bukan awak pun, orang yang dimaksudkan adalah orang satu ofis ngan saya. jadi jangan terasa ye..

stress yang dirasa telah membawa aku ke negeri di bawah bayu. ok la.. memang dah plan pun vacation to sabah tu. later la cerita tentang sabah yer.

walaupun stress, ada ketika aku mampu tersenyum. wahh, gitu ayat aku. tapi semakin dalam di pikirin, semakin clear situasi nya. takpe la. berkawan-kawan dulu kan? best apa berkawan..kan?

tapi apa yang aku sedar, mostly personaliti,cara dan minat mereka adalah sama. buatkan aku rasa, aku semakin mendekati atau menjauhi?

ok. aku merapu di pagi hari kerana perutku sudah lapar. menjerit2 minta diisi. partner makan aku plak tak datang hari ini. laparnyee..

I raise my eyes and watch you from a distance. I want to get close but I feel like you’re unreachable. Paintings hang on the walls of my mind each one titled “Possibilities”. But is that all that they will be?

I linger in the realm of small conversation hanging on to each passing moment. I curse myself for thinking so foolishly of something that probably isn’t meant to be…or is it?

I see how you are knowing that the life I live and the life you live probably won’t match up at all. So I sit quietly but in my mind I hunger for your power. I want to match mine with yours but I fear that I will be consumed and transformed. I want to be tainted by you but I’m too cautious to truly cross over to such a dark and enticing state.

So I linger…

I watch as others come and go silently cursing each one for occupying a space that should be mine.

Just do it…

I can’t…no..I won’t…think don’t feel. You know that things could get complicated. There are a few major variables that could be negative….and yet

I don’t care…

But I should. I need to safe guard myself and irrational thinking is not going to help.

And yet….

I still crave that power…to be suspended in air not caring…doing as I please…

I raise my eyes and watch you from a distance. I want to get close but I feel like you’re unreachable. I get up to walk away but can’t help myself and look over my shoulder…

Why plant a seed if you don’t intend for it to grow? There’s no magic to growing a plant. There’s only time and maintenance. Does the same concept not apply mentally?

You place a thought in someone’s mind. You converse to water it. You think about it to shed some light. Time passes in order for it to grow. But what happens when you leave a planted thought unattended to?

You plant the thought but water it with few words. You constantly think about it giving it too much light. Time continues to pass but barely anything grows. Scattered thoughts begin to pop up like weeds. They hide the true thought. You’re lost. Searching over and over for that planted thought. That root that lead you to this in the first place.

So again I ask…why? Where is that beautiful garden of fully developed thoughts and ideas? Why leave a jungle in someone’s mind? Constantly having to cut down fragmented thoughts that you confuse as the original. It seems that the more you cut the more there are. Surrounded by the wild…overwhelmed by the labyrinth of your mind.

Lost in thoughts…

if i’m gone for long

i’m sorry

and if it seems too long

i’m sorry

lifting off,

i miss you

seeing the world

i miss you

wherever i go

i’m with you

i promise

i’m with you

and if something

goes tragically wrong…

i am sorrowful

but so goes life

we move along

i only hope

please keep hope

that nothing happens

please keep hope

and if i die

before my time

press onwards

please, press onwards

but only in

the perfect world

i will start safely

but only in

the prefect world…

nothing…

nothing is bad,

when you wish for something

nothing is good

if you wish for anything.

please

wish for anything

but if i press on,

i will see

a world known only,

to you and me

for with only you

i will share

the presents i find

above the air

as for the public

hope they dont care

that they see teardrops…

everywhere…

surrounded by people

i hope you will see

that nothing matters,

but you and me

surrounded by flashes

i hope you dont care

that only a glance i spare…

to the public.

enclosed by media

i hope they see

that i am happy

with the world and me

for with you

mother earth

i will share

the presents i find

above the air.

again, same deal as the red wheelbarrow.(colors for stanzas)

i have forgotten

to paint

the picture of

the dinosaur

i hope

that you are

not

too mad

how about

we have  a

little boy,

eli,

paint it

(P.S. another long story, and inside joke).

english class… we had to write our own version of the red wheelbarrow using the same first line, with the same amount of words in each stanza. here is mine (again colors for stanzas)

so much depends

upon

a little white

chicken

who’s name is

jimpy

who feeds the

world

(P.S. jimpy is an inside joke, read Escape from Warsaw if you want to know)

a rough draft of a poem… sorry… for some odd reason i cant use a whole line skip, so i put the colors for new stanzas

winter…

an ivory key,

dancing…

prancing…

winter…

snow eats me…

falling…

crawling…

winter…

leaves on trees…

falling…

crawling…

winter…

snowmen chase me…

dancing…

prancing…

if i found you

my world will have a new name “you and me”

where the people love each other

where the clouds is blue like the ocean

where the mountain is green and full of trees

where night never be dark

and where one small tear drop could turn into a laughter

but we all know there will be hard times

there will be times when we felt like we could’nt make it

there will be times when we felt very tired of this

and there will be times we forget about each other

but there’s thing we have to believe

problems can come and go

tears can run and be shed

and we never knew when it will be end

but we knew a happy ending it is

sometimes i wonder how to work this blog. sometimes i wonder  how the earth turns round. sometimes i wonder about how big space really is.  sometimes i wonder who will read this blog. sometimes i wonder how ink gets onto paper. sometimes i wonder why i wonder. sometimes i wonder why i wander. sometimes i wander into wondering. sometimes i wonder into wandering. sometimes i wonder why words are the same. sometimes i wonder how big someone can actually smile. sometimes i wonder how a guitar works. sometimes i wonder why my drumset is so loud. sometimes i wonder how this is being typed. sometimes i wonder how many people read the newspaper each day. sometimes i wonder how a camera captures an image. sometimes i wonder how you could capture smells. sometimes i wonder why someone hasnt invented a smell capturer. sometimes i wonder how a video camera captures moving images. sometimes i wonder why a tv is in color. sometimes i wonder why a tv isnt in color. sometimes i wonder how somethings just seem to work. sometimes i wonder how lights light. sometimes i wonder how our brains learn to read. sometimes i wonder how a cd holds music. sometimes i wonder how a dvd holds images. sometimes i wonder why something bends. sometimes i wonder why something doesnt bend. sometimes i wonder how we sleep. sometimes i wonder how we dream. sometimes i wonder how we remember. sometimes i wonder why we forget. sometimes i forget why i wonder. sometimes i wonder…

Every tear I cry is a piece of the puzzle

Whenever I’m lost I look up

Overthink things then I’m in trouble

I must move forward when I’m most shook up

Just being lost may be an answer

To some question posed long ago

Or a question waiting in the future

As long as if its from the heart and not a show

Always trying to live an ideal

All I can do is think

Am I destined neber to make it real

All I need is the link

Watching myself from the inside

Missing the line I set for myself

Hiding on the inside

The way I’m on I can’t miss hell

I will get up and keep moving forward

I will fulfill this positive dream

I will consistently put off my former

Even if it is incompatible to me

Do I or don’t I?

If I do, can I?

If I don’t, how can I?

If I can’t decide, how will I?

It’s like that game, when you took a flower from the grass and plucked the petals one by one until you got your answer. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me. But I always got the odd-numbered petals, so I’d just pick up a new flower every time and wait until he loved me. Which he never did. It was just a children’s game, so what did it matter?

The last time I did it, though, I was in seventh grade, sitting on the field in my socks in the shade, watching cars pass me by, enjoying the silence. I pulled the petals off, watching them fall between blades of grass that waved in the wind. I remember who I did it for, too. He wasn’t what I’d go for nowadays, but he was my first major crush. Me watching him from the back of the band room, sad when he didn’t show up. And the flower was right the first time: he loved me not.

Too young then to feel heartbreak. Dreams every night, nothing dirty or explicit. Me watching him from a bus window. And the thoughts before falling asleep, thoughts that wriggled into the crevices of my mind, spinning me no lies but possible futures. When he said to his friend that he didn’t think I liked him, I didn’t care. Too young then to feel pain.

But now I have felt the first heartbreak. Something that ripped through me, a bash through my heart, through my integrity. Look at him, be in love. Go back home, detest him. But come to school, and gaze into those eyes. And watch his hands touch hers and feel the tear through my heart, the rage in my hands, frozen and immobile, unable to do anything but sit and watch and think of what to write later, the tears I’d cry.

So if I say yes to this, what will happen?

Will I wait and love him and listen to him until he turns on me and hurts me and runs off with a popular girl? Somegirl who can’t lift herself off the floor. And will I be tossed aside?

And if I say no to this, what will we do?

Will we continue on as friends? No. Will we continue on as lovers? No.

And if I honestly don’t know?

I’ll just have to wait to find out.

you don’t have to cut your hair because there’s no more hairs.

you don’t have to see bad things about the world because your eyes can’t see clearly now

you don’t have to hear what people think about you because it’s getting hard to hear

you don’t have to waste too much energy to talk because even if you talk people would be hard to understand

you don’t have to use your hand to hold people because they will be right beside you and be the one who hold you

you don’t have to stand with your own foot again because you’ve got many foot to help you stand

]]> http://girlonthepark.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/bizarre-conversations-with-my-husband-part-3/ Thu, 12 Nov 2009 14:11:41 +0000 girlonthepark http://girlonthepark.wordpress.com/2009/11/12/bizarre-conversations-with-my-husband-part-3/

With special guest star KayDee*!

(This one is kind of cheating since my husband only introduced the topic, but I figured it was funny enough to share.)

A transcript of a conversation I had with my Bon Jovi loving husband and his friend about the song Livin’ On A Prayer.

Boy: If the union was on strike, maybe Tommy should have just gotten another job, Maybe he could have washed dishes at the diner Gina worked at. Just saying.

Me: As Gina dreamed of running away and was crying in the night, I don’t know how hot working at the diner was. Besides, it didn’t make a difference to them if they made it or not. They had each other and that’s a lot for love . . .

KayDee: I think the first problem was the landlord wasn’t accepting prayers as payment, as that seems to be what they were living on. Also, it appears to be an issue that Gina had a wicked case of aphephobia because they would make it if she just took Tommy’s hand already, damn it!

Me: Actually, if you think about it, the whole Bon Jovi economy was kind of messed up since Tommy seemed to think that hocking his guitar would help solve all of his financial problems. I mean what about buskering or teaching guitar?

I’ll give you $1 million for your snappy looking axe my good manual labouring man!

KayDee: Firs of all, thank you for almost making me shoot tea out my nose with the term “Bon Jovi Economy”. Secondly, what you don’t understand is that when you have an axe like that you need to make it *talk*… no amount of street performance or teaching bratty 8 year olds is going to get you the kind of dough you need to pay for the quantity of conditioner you need to keep your highlighted mane luxurious. Maybe Gina should have considered a job in a salon.

Me: Oh, I didn’t think about that. That would have been tough, especially with the inflated prices due to the Hairspray Shortage of 1985.

The 1980s were a hard time for rockers. So much hair, not enough quality hair products!

KayDee: *laughs* Thank God we’re past that.

Me: Man, Slippery When Wet was a deep album. It’s no wonder that after all of his failed dock working that Tommy got the hep and became an outlaw.

(For those of you on Facebook, KayDee is actually a comedian and can be followed here.)