a little fall of rain

A Little Fall of Rain

Les Miserables has the best songs and lyrics ever.  I could still remember watching the 10th Anniversary Edition with my mom when I was small and singing along (of course I sang terribly).  The melody and the way they sang it just left me in awe every time.  As I grew older, I came to appreciate the words too, and I appreciate them a lot.  They're so so beautiful and I wish one day, I could write something like them.  The movie was really different from the musicals, but it's wonderful as well.  The shots were so raw and real, I was sucked deep into the movie the moment it began.  A Little Fall of Rain is one of my favorite out of all the songs, and I mean, how could anyone just have one favorite among those heavenly melodies and words.  So here are some of my other favorites.

A Heart Full of Love

Drink with Me

Stars

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

There are just so many, I should stop here before I flood this post with videos.

Devendra Banhart and Ana Kras

I've seen this in my tumblr dashboard for a few times, but lately, I have no idea why it keeps coming up agian and again.  Anyway, Devendra Banhart and Ana Kras has, like, the most amazing and romantic love story in my opinion.  I don't think I could ever be so spontaneous. Oh, and they are one of the chic-est and coolest couple out there in my opinion.  I want their life...

 (He looks so much better with short hair, btw.  And seeing him and ana in fashion shows and Kooples posters...gosh, such transformation.)

more boho

pics via spell, studded hearts, tumblr, wildfox

the perks and detriments of down counting

Down counting and me, we go way back.  And I have to say (shamelessly) that I have mastered the art of down counting.  Perhaps, not mastered...but I have gotten a full and deep understanding of the art of down counting.

I hated studying Chinese History and I could still remember down counting since the very beginning,how many Chinese History tests and exams I still have got left (Chinese History is no longer a compulsory subject in grade 10 in my school, and I was dying for that last exam to come).

Grade 9 was a tough year for me as I was juggling 15 subjects plus my crazy demanding extra curricular activities in my hands, and I would down count the days I have left until there was holiday and I could have time to breathe, until the common test month was over, until the project I had to do would be done and finished and etc.  I swear I wouldn't have survived grade 9 without down counting.

Here's a little tip to y'all.  We do not set our down-counter, no matter in our head or in our phones (yes, there are apps for that), to the day we dread; but to the day after,when all is over.  If you have any suck-y project or work that you dread coming up, down counting until the day of relief (caution: not the day of doom, but the day of relief) will instantly make you feel better.  It shows us that there is an end to everything, that time will pass.  Down counting can give us hope, keep us pumped and help us hold on, stay strong and endure, overcome the present/ the near future that we were sure will kill us.  At least that is what it does for me.

But as I have slowly adapted to the mindset of down counting, and have given more deep thought to it, I realized that down counting should not be applied to everything.  Counting down to lasts is sad, of course.  But counting down to things that don't have a definite ending, or an ending date that you know, is even more  sad and scary, and gives you a lot of doubts towards the future.  (Sorry, I am a pessimist and I tend to go to the darker route of things.)

For example: I am lucky that I still have my grandparents with me, and they are pretty old, both are in their eighties and both have their own elderly illnesses.  Almost every time I see them, I would wonder if it is the last 30 times I will see them, or the last 67, or even the last  10.  I love them dearly and I don't want to lose them.  Yet, I am going abroad soon, and  I will see them less often.  What if anything happens to them (touch wood) while I'm away, and that last hug before I board the plane will actually be the last moment we share together.

(An)other example(s):  I will often wonder if it (any random moment) will be the last moment I am with this friend, or that friend of mine.  Or if this will be the last words someone will hear from me and we will never see each other again.  If it were, which I would never know, I would want to say something nice, something memorable, and hug them tight and treasure the moment.

Yet, the thing is, we will never know, and can only always live in doubt.  Down counting to things that we aren't sure of is terrifying and stresses us out (or is it just me).   Sometimes, I wish there will be digits above everyone's head that show people how many times the person and oneself will meet and share moments together.   But then, I would un-wish it because I am not sure if I really want to know.  I would be traumatized every time I see the number decrease and when it becomes single digits, then zero.  I would be crying constantly and be sad all the time because those digits would be constant reminders that what I always thought was infinite (time I have with my mom, my family, my friends) actually has an end.

Us not knowing the lasts, I guess, is a gift from God.  We shan't ever know because we have to treasure every moment, live and love the fullest, as cliche as it sounds.  And the knowing when are the forever-goodbyes, and see-you-nevers is heart breaking; and our world, us, mankind can only bear so many tears and heart breaks.  I still swear by down counting to days of relief, but down counting to the unknown just freaks me out; though I will still sometimes journey into this dark tunnel of unknown, indefinite future because it reminds me to live and love the fullest, to live life without regrets.

St. Augustine

St. Augustine is such a beautiful, beautiful song.  I love the tingling sad feeling that it gives.  And also the calmness and peacefulness in the voice and melody, though the images and words are quite violent, and full of frustration, regret and remorse.  It is a great mix of gentleness in the tone and the slight violence/self-destruction (perhaps?) in the words.

Lyrics: 

Silver scents of Saint Augustine
Fire in the ground
Between my better teeth
We're dancing on the poison in their graves
At the end of the night
We'd all seen better days

I know you tried
I know you're cursed
I know your best was still your worst
When Hollywood was calling out your name

Saint Augustine

if I stayed behind
Would you let your hair grow?
I will forget
The favors that you owe
I'm dreaming of car wrecks and thunderstorms bright
Let's bury ourselves
And go haunt someone tonight

I know you tried
I know you're cursed
I know your best was still your worst
When Hollywood was calling out your name

Saint Augustine

troopers of the future

What I want to talk about today is living in the future.  I don't know where I got these from, perhaps it's due to my leftie-ness?  I find myself thinking and imagining more of the future rather than the present when I have the time to think.  Now that I thought about it, I realize that most of the time when I was thinking about the present, I was either worrying or under high-pressure (of course there are exceptional cases of extreme joy and wonder when I live in the present).  In my head, there is always images and snippets of the future that I imagined.  Sometimes, they just flash once and then they were gone; sometimes, they stay for quite awhile in my head until the future collides with the present and I compare whether the 'future' in my head (that had became the present) match with the present.  Most of the time they don't, because if it does, I must be a wizard or X-men or a prophet or something of that sort, and trust me, I'm not. *wink*

Some people believe that it is not really healthy , living in the future rather than in the present.  It's quite true for me, I guess.  Being the type of person who worry too much, freak out too much (leftie-syndrome/stereotype), the future, most of the time doesn't look that optimistic.  And even when it does seem optimistic and gleeful and hopeful, I can always come up with terrible images that just kills the mood every time.  And I become this down, hopeless and frowning ball of dark energy, and this is not healthy, I know, and I am trying to change that (am I?).  But in another way, living in the future helps boost my imagination and creativity (and yours too, if you have the similar thing going on in your mind). When my mind is idle from the present, it always wander off to the future and its infinite what-ifs.  'What if this happens?' 'It'd be cool if that happens.' 'Omg, what if it doesn't work out?'

Say, when I was in Secondary 1 (i.e. grade 7), I started imagining how I would feel when I graduate and finish high school.  During my 6 years of secondary school education, I had imagined so many different versions of it.  Here are some examples: 'I will be cool and not shed a tear and watch my friends cry and yelp for those long lost good old days of youth', 'or I might be the dramatic cry baby and hug everybody, and I will let my tears soak into their shirts and onto their shoulders and they will comfort me and say that we will meet again', 'oh and I will write letters and autographs to all my friends, and we will go out for drinks and get drunk and be fun like Carrie and her girls (SATC minus the crazy love-making part of course)'.  Now that I have graduated and the 'old future' had became the present, all I felt is melancholy and nervousness and excitement, and fyi, I am still sticking to mocktails.  But that's alright because the present is only so short a period of time, whereas the future is infinite. And I have moved on to living in other futures, my college years, my love life, my career, my marriage (if someone would marry me), my kids (if I would have someone marry me and have kids with me), my later years, and my last words.  There are just so many things that I could imagine and fill my head with that I sometimes think to myself, living in the future is so much more fun than living in the present (#truth).

So here's to all you mind troopers of the future out there, rock on, fellas.  I will be your companion and travel in my own future, and you yours.  We will have so much fun together separately (and disappointments too, perhaps for me.  but I'm cool with it, I guess).

itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini

Apologies for the future never-ending looping of this song in your head for the rest of your day.  But I'm sure you won't mind.  And Brian Hyland, you stole my heart away.

Ten Thousand Days

This short dark comedy, written and directed my Michael Duignan is pretty darn amazing.  I love how the plot/ fate was playing games with the characters and messing up everything.  Just imagine the frustration you'll feel when you know you were supposed to die on one specific day and you got all ready for it, but then you just couldn't. (right?)  And I think that was quite a spot-on presentation of how life is, how fate messes with us.  There are bad timings, things that we thought should have happened but didn't, things that we thought wouldn't happen anymore all of a sudden befall on us, etc... So props to you, writer of the film.

I also really enjoyed the background music in the video, it just adds so much more flavor and emotions to it.  The color grade was spot on as well, I really enjoyed this old-movie-polaroid-type of presentation.  And the little twist in the end is the cherry on top.  (how many cousins are there lol)

And there is no reason why I shouldn't have quoted this following from the film.  I'm sure you fell in love with these lines too when you were watching.  So, I quoted it and here it goes:

Tell them life is short.  

I love too much and I fear too little.  

Tell them I never wasted one moment

 for doubt or hesitation, or regret. 

 I was a lover and a fighter and a poet. 

 Tell them I danced on the edge and

 I drank down life to the last sweet drop.

I wish I could say that about my life when it is my time to go.  I wish my life could be summed up in a poetic way, just like that.

july cravings

billy, oh billy.

I just watched ‘One that Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ and I love it.  I didn’t really know how to feel right after I watched the movie, and I had to take some quiet time to settle down my thoughts.  I felt a sense of hopelessness, but then a sense of hope.  I feel down and heavy hearted, but then I feel that there is light.  It was as if everything was conflicted, and I guess that is what a good movie makes people feel, right?

I connected with the character Billy at the very beginning, and I didn’t know why then.  (Perhaps, it’s because I love his hair?)  But now, upon finishing the movie, I know.  I feel for Billy, for he is stuck in his own cage, unwilling to step out.  But given the stuttering that he has, it is easy for him to get stuck because his words and his thoughts are constantly stuck in his throat and he can never get them out.  I could only imagine the frustration I would feel if I am him, and I would be afraid to voice out, or step out of my comfort zone too. 

McMurphy is right, when they are discussing about whether the guys are staying in the hospital voluntarily or not, that Billy is young, and his whole future is ahead of him, he “oughta be out in a convertible bird-doggin' chicks and bangin' beaver.”  But again, perhaps Billy represent the very much oppressed children, or even groups of people out there, that is stuck because there is no way out for them, out of their own labyrinth.  He feared authority; he feared his mother and Nurse Ratched.  But doesn't he see that he himself is in control of his life?  

When I was watching the part where Nurse Ratched asks Billy if he is ashamed for sleeping with the girl, I was hoping that Billy will be strong enough to stand strong to his oppressors.  Him staying strong and revolting against Ratched will mean something to me, and hearing him say he wasn’t ashamed (and he did not even stutter) is a relief.  I was praying in my heart that he will continue on, but the next moment he is kneeling on the floor begging Nurse Ratched not to tell his mother, and another moment more, he is dead. 

Billy is so close to freedom, so close to making it out when McMurphy invits him to leave together, but he just blows it and says he isn't ready.  I am torn between whether I should blame him or not for not taking this step.  This decision brings him right to his death in the end.  But he seems to fully understand what he is doing, that he knows he isn’t ready to leave yet and he knows that someday, he will be.  I blame people for the reckless and thoughtless decisions that they’ve made, but not those who are sure of themselves, sure of their decision, even if the decision does not work out the way it’s supposed to in the end.  I wonder if Billy blamed himself for not leaving when he decided to kill himself.  I hope he didn’t.  I hope his last thought would be about the night he had with Candy, or the life he had before he was admitted into the madhouse, or the life before everything turned bad for him.

 I have to admit that I feel so strongly for Billy’s character because I feel that I am somewhat similar to him in some ways and sometimes (not totally similar, thank goodness.  I am happy most of the time and in no way suicidal, so don’t worry).  I am shy and I do get afraid of things and of people sometimes, that I don’t dare to push myself a little further.  I am young, like Billy, perhaps even younger; and I don’t want to be stuck inside my own shell and end up lost in my own maze, never getting out.  I want to leave with McMurphy and get out of the madhouse, of my own madhouse even.  This is the thing I set to work on now, and I do hope one day I will be able to push through my own walls, and be at the place where I want myself to be.  I am getting nearer, I can feel it.

San Franciso - The Mowgli's

Recently, I'v been looping this song in my head all day long.  Guess you all can tell I'm in a uber good and bubbly mood.  

Mad Girl's Love Song

(I always get creeped out by old head shots of people.  The way the people in those photo seemed really give me chills.  This is already a less creepy one I found of Sylvia Plath.  I apologize in advance if you have the same problem with old head shots.) 

I came across Sylvia Plath's Mad Girl's Love Song recently, and I really like it.  Here it goes.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Reading this poem was as if an insight into how the actual 'I'm madly in love with (insert a guy here)' feels like. Reading the poem, I felt sucked in into the speaker's snippets of dreams.  I was brought into her imaginations of being madly in love with her man under the night sky, kissing madly, and feeling as if the world is theirs and that they are invincible and infinite.    Indeed, this is a love song, and even so, a mad girl's love song by a girl fallen madly in a love that isn't mutual.  Perhaps it really is so magical when one finds THE person.  Perhaps it really feels so extraordinary when one is in love.  I don't know yet how love feels, and I cannot judge.

The line "(I think I made you up inside my head.)" also made me think.  I remember watching an interview with Edward Norton for "The Painted Veil",  and he said that when people fall in love with people, they fall in love with what they want them to be, or what they thought they are.  This is really true, and I think this idea is kind of expressed in the line.  Another thought about this line is, I was thinking, perhaps when one first falls in love with a person, one would see all the beauty and perfections of that person, and would start to wonder if such perfection can really exist in a person, or doubt if one had made it all up in one's head.  Am I right?

I've studied Sylvia Plath's poems at school, and I didn't really like them.  I thought they were all so depressing and dark (I was half weirded out and half confused when I read Poppies in July), and I didn't get them or know what to do about them.  I am lucky enough to not have felt such tragic feelings to be able to relate to Plath's troubles.  But this poem is different.  Sylvia Plath wrote this poem when she was twenty one and I guess that is the reason why I relate to it more: because, perhaps I am still just a teenager, and I get this, or I am still waiting on the day when I will get this poem.  I think many girls will connect with this poem, because feelings like this can really hit us, right?

Disclaimer: Hope you guys liked my sort-of-romantic side and my crappy thoughts on the poem.  I am still trying this analyzing-poems-alone-and-in-structured-thoughts-and-sentences-thingy out.  Please let me know if I did really bad, I'll stop.  Promise.

Day 30: a congrats banner for finishing the challenge

yay! I finished the challenge! I can seldom finish stuff like this, I mean, 30 days is a long time to keep something going.  Give yourself a pat in the back, joey.  Job well done.

I did the 30 days drawing challenge hoping to let you know more about me and I hope you (if you/ readers really exist) really got to know me better!  I'll find some more challenges to do if I could find any fun ones.  This 30 days drawing challenge was pretty fun, it got me picked back up on my doodling and drawing.  So, nice!

My Imperfect Imperfections, My Acne Story

I have been battling my acne problem for what seemed like forever.  These evil little pimples and zits started popping out and appearing on my face since grade 6, or grade 5?  I'm not so sure even.

I have quite a serious case of acne problem (not extremely severe, not the worst, thank god) and I couldn't remember how I looked without acne.  Seeing my face like that in the mirror every day surely doesn't feel good.  I have tried multiple ways to kill them bastards (different acne products, facials and chinese herbal remedies, clean diet, etc.), but they just wouldn't die and let me be.  They were determined to kill my self-esteem and self-confidence.  I am sure of it.  I hate to admit it, but they are having their way; those damn bastards are/have always been winning.  Sure, there were better days when my skin looked a tit-bit better.  After awhile though, the zits pop right back out.  The more the merrier, it seemed to them punks.

  

There are days that I feel extremely terrible about myself, that I feel so ugly and uncool, when my self-esteem hit bottom and my self-confidence dropped to zero.  And I look at the mirror and just say, 'you ugly bitch.'  Yes, I even cried a few times.  When I look at other girls with the porcelain skin, smooth as alabaster; I get so jealous.  Why wasn't I born with that?  I want to skin them and exchange my skin with theirs.  

I credit most of my low self-esteem and self-consciousness to those rascals on my face.  But I discovered recently during my quiet-thinking-time that I am so obsessed with fashion and clothing because of my acne problem.  What I wear, I have control over; what happens to my face, I have none (as much as I want to).  I already have poor skin, and if I don't even give a damn about what I wear, I'll be a total faux pas, a total frump.  So I always pay extra attention to what I put on.

Yes, I know inner beauty is more important than outer beauty.  I totally agree with that age old bs.  But outer beauty counts too.  I hate to look the way I am now.  It is difficult to play it cool when friends and family address my acne problem, even thought they always mean it kindly.  It is difficult to act uncaring and cool about it because I do care a lot.  I am just so frustrated.  I curse the day puberty hit me right in the face and planted these hideous pimple-bitches deep under my skin.  And how many acne had puberty planted?  I don't know, I feel like each of my little pores are acne-cornucopias.  They just never stop popping out and oozing out them vile self-esteem-killers.  I know some of you do have the same problem as me, and I wanted you to know that you are not alone.  

I dream of the day when I look into the mirror and see a smooth-faced, acne-free me.  I dream of the day when I look in the mirror and say to myself, 'damn girl, you look pretty.'.  I dream of the day when I look in the mirror and love what I see.  I dream of that day coming.  But will it ever come?  My hope is running low. 

Disclaimer: I am so sorry for all this negativity.  But I do have a right to feel how I feel and whatever that's troubling me.  And I know I am a lot luckier and have it way better than some other people out there, but my problem is still my problem and I'd still like to talk about it.

And have I mention my acne scars and ginormous pores? (don't even get me started)

Day 29: a place you want to go to

Everything was previously explained in a post some weeks earlier.

Day 28: anything you'd like

Given the liberty to draw whatever I like? I drew a mermaid.  I'd like to draw a mermaid sitting on a unicorn with a rainbow-colored-horn, with glitters and sparkly things coming out of its butt. (cooler that nyan cat eh?) But it was too complicated and I hadn't had enough time so I just drew a mermaid sitting on a pink rock with an ugly Sun.

Day 27: someone you love

Hmm...I want to skip the cliche of saying I love my family, my mom, my dad, or whoever blood related to be.  It is obvious that I love them.  I don't have a significant other now, so who should I draw? (or will I ever have a significant other...)  My hopeless-romantic side tells me that my future hubby is somewhere out there in the world and it's just that I haven't met him yet.  It is such a ro-ro idea (romantic idea lol) that he is out there doing something and I am here doing my thing, and one day the guy and the gal will meet and fall in love and make rainbows and chocolate fountains and glitters and sparkles and erm...babies.  My realistic and sadly, my negative side, tells me that I ain't sure yet if I will find my guy, or I will be forever alone.  But I don't care.  I am in a ro-ro mood  right now, so here, I'd like to dedicate this to the future man of my life (if you actually exist), I love you baby.  

Music Monday: Lately - Memory House