Monday, 29th November 2010

Nostalgia hit me like an eclair in the face- painful, but so comforting, so delicious, so loving.

I was having a really bad night, for some strange reason. Mood swings, maybe. Everybody just felt like assholes to me. I came home to search for stimuli for my Creative Writing class tomorrow, and shuffled through some of my favourite old music.

The pain was just washed away in an instant, and I was in heaven, blissful consciousness that was so lovely, floating on the back of seagulls that hover above the mirror-like surface of the dark waters. I was sucked back into the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, where the plague ran rampant but the music ripened in its own glory, and people held hands and danced the night away at little pubs till the dawn broke the deep violet sky.

Saturday, 27th November 2010

I believe that all human beings are equal. Men and women are equal. No person should be another's slave.
If you think slavery is no big deal, try being someone else's slave.
Get whipped by leather and hooks, branded with red-hot irons, chained up until you get sores. Nobody cares if you die, you are nothing, nothing.

Just a slave.

Oh, Rabbit.

Have you turned away?
I've been crying an awful lot nowadays, I wonder if you're still here?
I'm so tired.
I need your comfort, I need your kisses.
You always made me feel better when no one else could.

Saturday, 20th November 2010

Plants are amazing.

They thrive anywhere, even though sometimes soil is nowhere to be found. One way or another, they weasel their way through cracks in concrete, patches of dry sand, rocks by the path and water in swamps.

Tonight, I went to this plant stall at a pasar malam with my Love. I'd been wanting to buy some fertilizer of some sort for my little sprouts (Papaya and some unknown plant), because all babies need their nutrients. I saw some little bottles and bags of fertilizer, and asked about them. The auntie told me how much to give, after asking me about the type of plants I have.
Then, she joked,
"Remember to give its neighbour some fertilizer as well or it will be jealous!"

-----

I'm letting my hair grow.

I don't really know who I am anymore. I came into Poly, so sure of myself and who I want to be. So sure that I wanted to wear short hair and crazy hairclips and dresses and jumpers and cargo-pants. So sure that I could study for 6 days a week, 2 hours a day, and get a 4.0 GPA.

It's back to having long hair then, but I won't wear it like a loser. Back in secondary school, I couldn't really do much with long straight black hair, after all, there were rules to abide by. I had no imagination whatsoever, so my hair was mostly in a ponytail, neat and proper.
After May 16th, I started to explore more styles, like plaiting and using more rubberbands and having bangs.
Until I got tired of everything and chopped it off in 2007.

Then, came the butterflies and flower clips and hand-painted hairbands and wooden candycane-clips. It was fun having short hair, it still is, but somehow I keep feeling this pressure, like I'm missing out on something. It's like I'm not girly enough or something. I can't even wear cargo-pants without looking like a little boy.

It's not fair.

Thursday, November 18th 2010

[Beautiful hair, no?]

Love.

Wednesday, 17th November 2010

Amore mio,

se la pioggia o sole,

sia chiaro o scuro,

sia caldo o freddo,

se felice o triste,

se siamo sani o malati,

mio voglio noi stare insieme, e rimanere cosi per sempre.

Thursday, 11th November 2010

My agar plates have BLOSSOMED!

That was the pleasant surprise waiting for me when I got home late tonight. It had been a rather interesting day, I must say. I'd spent three whole hours this morning in the world of microbes, playing catch with bacteria, gazing at adorable cheek cells, being annoyed at dust specks, watching microbes swim after one another. It was as if the tiny blue-stained slide was a huge playground, and I got lost in it after the first two minutes.

It was somewhat comforting, really, being able to escape into another world, even though staring into a microscope for so long might render one blind after a few years. The world of microbiology is absolutely fascinating. I was so worried that my new home-made agar wouldn't culture anything because it was too hard, but I needn't have worried.

Using both sugar and broth in the agar mixture hit the jackpot, because my agar plates are now rather... hairy. The one labelled "nose" has a huge colony of bacteria climbing upwards like thin, white hair, and there's this small lonely black hairy speck at the corner. The one labelled "tongue" has the same white colony growing, only a smaller one this time. It's going to take a few more days to see more. Nothing much has grown on the skin that can be identified, so I'm going to wait patiently, seeing as my super-agar has indeed effectively cultivated microbes.

Damn, I want a real microscope to call my own.

Sunday, 7th November 2010

Once there was a boy, Narcissus, who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He gazed at his reflection, the handsome face that kept gazing back, and fell in love with it. He returned to the lake, day after day, to gaze at his lover, until one day he leaned too far, and plop! He fell into the lake and drowned.

At that spot, the bud of a beautiful flower appeared.

Saturday, 6th November 2010

"You must believe in Jesus."
"Jesus will not harm you. I told him you had to be baptised, I do not oppose you two being together but you have to believe in Jesus and get baptised."

Or you will go to hell.

The more I hear about this, the more I feel this incredible feeling building up inside me. The more I get preached to, the less I believe, the more I dislike. It's a peculiar feeling, really, when people insist they're not forcing anything on you, but then they don't give you any other choice either, so you're stuck in limbo and forever unhappy.

I'm not ready to worship a God who would send me to hell, as he would to anybody who isn't baptised.

Thursday, 4th November 2010

It would be called Luna.

Protected by Milai, the great city of warriors, Luna is a gentle little town tucked away behind the woods, in the valley. The river runs right through it, and a cobblestone bridge hangs over the water. Bicycles cross over them, there would only be bicycles, no cars.

It would be inhabited by mimes, in their monotonous black and white, they would give each other flowers in the streets. They would smile their clown-red smiles, and always hold in one hand, a black suitcase, and in the other, a strawberry ice-cream cone. They would lick it as they went about town, about their lives, oblivious to the world and its problems.

There would be no war, no distress, no sadness. Each and every mime would be equal, each one polite, each one selfless and sensitive. Despite the ice-cream cones, they would remain skinny little things, clad in a black beret, shoes, gloves and a stripy skin-suit. Occasionally you would see a few carrying backpacks, only weighed down by art materials; paint, markers, coloured pencils, pastels, anything to make their art brilliant and colourful.

You'd think that they'd be so monotonous in their choice of colours, mimes, but no, their art has to, must be colourful. Mimes love colours. It makes them feel not quite part of this world. They paint their cute round-spherical houses shades of the brightest colours; red, green, orange, blue, purple, yellow, and delight in designing their own furniture that stick to the walls so that if need be, they'd be able to move their house to another part of town to, perhaps, be with their other half, the one they love.