Of Evil Triplets and Alter Egos

This photo, friends, is a snapshot of an actual photo.

Savour it for I'm not in the habit of putting up unflattering photos of my kiddy self. Even more so when it's multiplied by three.

So not sexy.

And oh my gawd, look at that sailor-like outfit I'm wearing.

*flinch*

Anyhow, here's breaking news for you: I'm part two of a triplet. Yup, that's me in the middle.

The other two were tragically killed at the tender age of 4, both choking on a rambutan seed (what a coincidence eh?).

Fortunately for me, I had the brains to eat seedless grapes.

I carry with me the multiple personalities of my sisters who are long gone. Much like that Korean horror flick about some staircase or something where a girl is haunted by her dead sister.

Ok, if by now you still think I'm being serious about this - I'm not.

I'm an only child (with a younger sister and two younger brothers).

Anyhow, on multiple personalities.

We like different things when we're with different people. Seriously, think about it. Everytime you get a new partner, or have a new friend that you're getting pretty chummy with, you pretty much adopt what the other person is interested in.

Which explains why I've not always been facinated by pretty things, not until I met Emily and her dragonflies and her pretty little trinkets.

I remember the time when I tried to understand cars, because the people who were closest to me then were guys.

I tried recognizing the different brands (do you call them brands?) on the street, and did research on why rims a.k.a. spinners are so cool. After the basics, I tried understanding the engine but that was beyond my spectrum of tolerance.

Then there was the time when I was interested in games and tried to play those strategy thingies where you launch battles at each other and beat your chest after like Tarzan when you win. Games on the list: Half life, Counterstrike, Star Craft, Diablo, Warcraft.

I can't say I didn't enjoy it. But then again, I can't say I did either.

And then comes blogging. Oh, damn us all individualistic individuals, each of us 'unique, just like everyone else' as Mich would say.

Some write short, snappy blogs. Others post tons of photos cause hey, who reads these days right? And then there are those like me, undefined cause I'm so unique.

Heh.

Our alter egos I reckon, evolve based on our surroundings - like a chameleon.

We tend to show the side of us that is most pleasing to the person. We try to be liked - that's why first dates/ meetings etc are always so awkward and 'tip-toe around the room'. We're testing the waters to see to what things the other person leans towards, and then we go home and google it.

The more we proclaim to be individualistic individuals, the more we're not.

Look at me, I'm turning into you.

An extended hand, asking of you.
What will you give?

Photo Meme: Fragile

In The Limelight

According to a website which link I forgot to save, the etymology of the word is as such.

Limelight:

The burning of lime to create a strong light was originally used by lighthouses before the era of electric lights. Theatres also burned lime to create a strong spotlight effect, and hence the expression "in the limelight".

Yesterday I went out for tea with a high school friend of mine who is currently doing a course in architecture in a local university, and he was lamenting on how unfair the entire education system was - being mainly dominated by Malays - both the taught and the teaching.

Throughout the night he was quite in angst as he described how his fellow university mate who was interning in the same company as him, did lesser work but got double the limelight (ah, yes, there is a point to my introducing the word).

He raved at how incredulously dirty the other fellow's tactics were, and how he wasn't given credit for the work he did.

"Ee ai hau lien, hok ee hau lien liao lah!"
(Translation: Since he wants to show off, I'll just let him lah!)

Upon uttering this sentence, he gave me a much baffled look that indicated disbelief - much like that of Adrienne Brody when he won the Oscars, but not quite happy.

"Oh yah hor...I shouldn't have just shut up."
(Translation: I was a dumbass.)

I do not deny that it is often hard to shine among so many diamonds - even more so when there are so many imitation ones these days. But if you don't take the initiative to do something about it, I have only one thing to say -

it's your own friggin' fault.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

In other news of the same nature, there has been much discussion (during the AGM of my head) on the issue of blog popularity.

There was a time when I thought that whoever who wrote whatever should be allowed so and so rights to keep it hush hush.

No such thing lah.

A blog is web-based. A blog is public. Web-based + public .... now don't tell me you've never heard how piracy online became so widespread.

Same goes for privacy. There is just no such 'space' in here for that. How ironic.

It is also therefore impossible for any of us to expect anyone at all to keep it hush hush. None of us spread gossip or news intentionally (Alli in your case it's a bit different).

It just happens (like how MJ happened to be innocent).

You can't sue me for what you put up for people to see.

Such 'spreading phenenomenons' are clearly an act of nature. And observing the fact that the plaintiff cannot prove actus reus, and that mens rea is untraceable with a lie detector I therefore move for the case to be acquitted.

(I hope no one ever digs my bullshit up and uses it against me.)

The Past Tense, The Present Tense and the Future Tense

The three major periods in life. Regardless of how old (or young at heart) we get, each of us carry with us yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.

My yesterdays seem so full of mistakes and regrets, so Taiwanese drama-like. What should've been the sweetest memories of my teenage years make me flinch. It's a little like a bad first cup of coffee. When one's first experiences are shadowed by the bitterness of that first sip that was supposed to be pleasing, one tends to show an expression that expresses much disgust at the expresso. And they shy away from coffee for a long, long time.

I just had my first cuppa early this year. I think I might be beginning to like it. =)


My todays seem interesting enough as I observe them. This evening I taught my baby brother how to use a skipping rope. Earlier in the night I strolled down the entire river side, legs aching, just like old times. Three days from now I work. Next week I might fly solo if my parents can be convinced that I won't wreck the car.

But tonight, my heart is warm because I just realized that I could still love. And I think I like me more because of that.


My tomorrows... I worry about too much. I think there's some mis-management in The Department of Sanity. My left brain and my heart aren't co-operating.

Dear God, please let me have enough faith to leave my tomorrows to You.

De-pression

Ways to get rid of it:

1.Listen to a sad song. How does that help you ask? Well..it creates the illusion that you're less 'alone'. I recommend:

Bethany Joy Lenz - Honestly
(LC thinks this is a good song too, see, i have support!)

2. Eat insane amounts of chocolate. Not only will it increase the release of endorphins in your brain thus creating the much coveted 'high' effect, it also makes you really really sick - of which after you'd be too busy feeling sick to be depressed.

(By the way, chocolate's constant association with weight gaining and pimples is mere myth. I am living proof!)

3. Go out with stupid people. Make stupid small talk. The stupider (is this even a word?), the better. Nothing like an inane conversation to figure out to keep your mind of things.

Tell me if it works!

Oh, Whoop Dee Doo!

Just my luck! Was lamenting on how I couldn't attach images easily anymore, and what do you know - blogger started one!

Damnit, where are my sunsets when I need them.

(My Sinatra collection, pic taken by Kevin, 8 years)

My 'Secret' Hideout

So this is what solitude (somewhat) feels like.

I do realize that this is still public despite the fact that my identity is more anonymous than ever, having excluded personal details that are usually shared willingly, and using a different online handle rather than the one I've been using ever since I was 15.

It's rather like moving into a new house, in a new neighbourhood. You lie down on the floor of your soon-to-be bedroom and take in its emptiness, the blank white-washed walls, the silence that sometimes seems too loud. And then you begin to sing; softly at first, testing your grounds, amused at how your voice skips around the room like a frivolous child. And then you sing louder but still with slight restraint - someone might be listening just beyond your walls.

I relinquish this moment of anonymity, of feeling as if no eyes are peering into my room and exclaiming how empty it is.

In whispers: No one can see me.

I need to disassociate myself from people who make me feel bad about myself. It is not their fault; they are but my insecurities that I cannot reason myself out of, and the only thing I can do is hide.

But for now I write as I want to, rant as I did once upon a blue moon ago.

Too bad I'm my own automated gatekeeper.

Cold

Cold is what you feel when you're silly enough to wear spaghettis and not bring a coat to the cinema.

Cold is when you've kicked your blanket onto the floor, and there's nothing between you and the air-cond that you set at 16 degrees.

Cold is when two friends don't talk.

Cold is possible even if you're wearing ten layers of clothing - with all sorts of warmers and muffs.

Cold is when you're feeling lonely.

Or what you feel towards someone who has just dissapointed you.



(For the few of you who know about this blog, would appreciate that you kept it to yourself. I'm not ready yet.)