For Lyn

i don’t remember anymore what lyn said to me the other night, but i thought about this song that i wrote ages and ages and ages ago, tentatively titled “start again”… i wanted to sing to her and all, but i couldn’t for the life of me remember the words… so, lyn, this is for you

verse 1:

sometimes i wish i could start all over again
turn my back on what is real to me this point in time
pack a load of everything and get myself a friend
tell me your direction, mister, i know i’ll be in safe hands

chorus 1:

if i were close to home, would you tell me so?
to the heart that no one knows and no one cares
if i hear the beats of life, am i nearing the end?
will i sleep a little better and walk a little faster like them?

verse 2:

some say the bad is within every person’ soul
makes you turn the world around in pain and in shame
i’d say pack of a load of nothing cos nothing’s all you’ve got
and make do with the difference that no one understands

chorus 2:

if you were close to home, i’d tell you everything
the things i cannot face when i’m feeling the blues
if you could feel some life coming back to you again
then you would sleep a little better, and walk a little faster…
i would say to you if i had the chance
that no one really cares, it’s just little pretense
i can see some life coming back to you again
cos you’re sleeping a little better, walking a little faster like them

I’m A Bimbo

“why don’t you just dye your hair blonde, so you can complete the whole bimbo look?” nad asked in the presence of lyn, who nodded in agreement.

*ahem* i’m not a bimbo; no one has ever called me that…

…okay, that’s not true. as a matter of fact, nad was probably the 5,467th person to say that. if not the word “bimbo”, it’s “retard” or “airhead”. i’ve never really put much thought into what i say. whatever pops up in my head, and it’s out a few seconds later, no matter how stupid or irrelevant it may be. most people are kind enough to just flash me a frown, while others – lyn, are you reading this? – feel the need to remind me everyday that i’m the most retarded person they have ever met.

i’m sure i have a brain somewhere. and i would certainly like to believe i’m merely playing dumb most of the time. but since i’m bad with faces, names, numbers, and everything else that requires a bit of mental processing, maybe ‘em 5,467 people are right… i am a bimbo.

Read On If You Must

nonnie got tagged, and decided to tag EVERYONE!!!

so, here goes:

1. A person is only as good as … his/her attitude towards life.

2. Friendship is always … interesting.

3. To love is to … trust.

4. Money makes me … feel like spending more.

5. I miss … not knowing what responsibility is.

6. My way of saying I care is by … being super retarded.

7. I try to spread love and happiness by … donating to peta.

8. Pick the flowers when … you feel like sneezing.

9. To love someone is to … accept that person almost 100%.

10. Beauty is … whatever you want it to be.

11. When I was thirteen, what I remember the most was … i was finally a teenager.

12. When I was twenty one, I remember … i had a choice between being a kid or a grown-up.

13. I am most happy when … i’m getting tattooed.

14. Nothing makes me happier than … getting more tattoos.

15. If I can change one thing, I will change… nothing at all.

16. If smiles were … fake, then I … would pretend to smile too.

17. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could… just get along?

18. If you want to … be happy, then you have to … look within.

19. Money is not everything but… it can buy me loads of candles and a guild acoustic.

20. The most touching moments I have experienced is … knowing people care.

21. I smile when … i feel like smiling.

22. When I am happy, I … turn into a chatterbox.

23. If only I don’t have to … work, then … i’ll sleep like a log.

24. The best thing I did yesterday was … hanging out with my buddies.

25. If I ever write a book, I will give it this title, “goths are not violent“

26. One thing I must do before I die is … write the ultimate song… whatever that is…

27. Doing this meme, I feel like … i should stop visiting nonnie’s blog just in case she decides to tag everyone again.

THE PERSON I WANT TO TAG: whoever wants to be tagged, really…

Soul One

“The thing about soul mate is that you feel like you’ve known each other forever, though it could have only been hours,” said my best friend Lyn.

I once knew this dude who said I was his soul mate. But to me, he was just Tom, a good pal. Years back, he called me from the US, just before he got hitched. The conversation itself wasn’t long, and I’ll never forget it.

He said, “I may love this girl that I’m marrying, but she can never replace you, because you are my soul mate; she’s not.”

It got me confused because all this while, people had said, “Find a soul mate. Marry that person.” Since I was Tom’s soul mate, shouldn’t he be asking me instead? (It’s a good thing he didn’t though. He really was just a buddy.)

So, when Lyn brought up the subject of soul mates, I thought to myself, “I once had a soul mate… I think.”

But of course, Tom probably wasn’t my soul mate, neither was I his. After all, there has to be a mutual understanding of the sacred bond. In me and Tom’s case, it wasn’t.

Here comes the next question: How many soul mates will you meet in a lifetime? 56? 4,232?

To an idealist, I guess the answer is 1. Given that it is so darn sacred, it would be silly to think if you missed the last one, it’s cool, there’s always a few more all lined up, waiting to meet you.

I Need More Time

for god knows how many days now, i’ve been on hyper-mode, multi-tasking in my head, hanging out with whoever is available until the sun comes up, practising on the guitar until 11 am, playing the piano after 11 am, and working at a pace that even my boss is telling me to slow down.

the problem with this highly manic phase is everything seems more important than sleep. while i understand that i can’t go on like this any longer, my mind refuses to cooperate. worse, it’s even introducing more tasks for me to accomplish, such as “remember that song you promised to finish last year?”, “your room needs hoovering big time” and “shouldn’t ‘em CDs be in alphabetical order?”

i don’t think i should be blogging at all, neither do i have anything profound to share. but it is imperative, though, that i type something for the heck of it.

so, yet another mindless entry from a girl who desperately needs some shut-eye…

Yikes! I Have Two Left Hands!

when i was asked to join a jam session, i thought, “why not? i haven’t done it in… what… forever?” so i dusted off – barely – my squier strat, which had only been largely ignored by her owner for years and years and years.

fast forward the whole “sending the guitar to the shop for repair, being told off by the technician for treating the guitar like shit, and struggling to remember how to connect it to the amp”, i found myself at the studio with absolutely no idea what i was supposed to do there.

kelvin “the rockstar” suggested guns n’ roses’ sweet child o’ mine, which was a relief because “i – oooh! oooh! oooh! – know that song”. then came the realisation that i knew the song alright, but not the guitar parts, or how many bars before the chorus, or what came after the second chorus or…. oh dear…

the word “disastrous” couldn’t begin to describe the whole session; i barely got out alive. then came a painful reminder of my shortcoming, in the form of a band rehearsing for their upcoming gig. all five of them understood their respective roles in the group, and played them accordingly. suddenly, i wasn’t sure if my attempt to blend into the world of rockers was such a good idea. or if i was even good enough to be one of them.

while i was beating myself up for being a loser, johnny told me, “forget about skills… it’s your mind that’s the problem.”

ahhh…. so, i came home, went online and searched for techniques on mental programming.

it’s a start, right?

A League Of Our Own

“do you really date within our own league?” asks jazzmoney in his blog. to me, the more pressing question is: how often do we really date within our own league?

the word “league” makes me think of not just wealth and looks, but personality and maturity. it’s easy to be sucked into the world where it’s all a matter of what the society perceives as a good pairing. “he’s cute, you’re cute. he’s rich, you’re rich. you guys should get married!”

i’m not saying looks aren’t important. no, no, no. ideally, i’d date the best-est looking dude in the country. even better, the best-est looking dude with the deepest pocket. that’s the perfect world; we all want that. but let’s be realistic here. a rich, good looking person with zero sense of humour and a mind of a five-year-old ain’t gonna make anyone happy, at least not in the long run.

similarly, a lot of us have been drawn to the rocker, the artist or the broken for they are just plain cool in a i’m-drowning-in-my-pain sorta way. most of them are what the society perceives as “useless”. art doesn’t bring home the bacon; a real job does. while they may not be the most attractive people out there, they are desirable nonetheless. whether it works depends mainly on what the person is looking for in a partner…

… which brings me to the next question: if we are all aware of our level of attractiveness and wealth, and find a boyfriend/girlfriend accordingly, wouldn’t that restrict us to a very small pool of people – given that it’s *important* to date within our own league?

personally, i’ve dated just about any kind of guys out there – the rich, the poor, the musician, the overly-ambitious, the child and the adult. if i were at all aware of my “league” at those times, then i must have been quite a confused little soul…

Buzz Me Blue

last year, while i was vacationing in hong kong, i got a call from “a friend”. i didn’t recognise his voice, nor did i have the slightest idea who it could be. from the way he said, “hey, liz, it’s been a while, eh?”, i figured he must know me. so, what transpired was as such:

i said, “oh yeah. it has been a while. so, how have you been?”

who is this again?

he said, “are you still working for that company?”

“yup. nothing has changed. how about you?”

colleagues? ex-classmates? who are you?

” same old, same old. are you still with the gang?”

“nah… been too busy.”

what gang? who are you?

“hahhaha… you said that the last time.”

“well, you know…”

i said that? when? WHO ARE YOU???

“anyway, better go now. we’ll catch up, ya?”

“definitely, dude!”

please tell me your name before you go. please…. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU???????

in hindsight, i should have asked for his name in the first few seconds of the conversation. instead, i played along, trying to be as vague as possible so i wouldn’t be “found out”. to think i will someday figure out who that mystery caller is a wishful thinking, because a) i have a memory of a goldfish, b) i have a memory of a goldfish, and c) even a goldfish fare better than me, in some circumstances.

a few months later, it happened again. i called jazzmoney to ask for direction to t-man’s house. ten minutes into the conversation, and the dude on the other end of the line asked, “you don’t know who you’re talking to, do you?”

i probably said, “you’re not… who da… what are… huh?”

so, if any of you is thinking of giving me a call, please introduce yourself (unless i have your number), or you’ll just get this dazed and confused person talking back…

Rumour Has It…

i recently had a dream about this dude i barely knew in real life, during which i asked what his favourite band was. but i woke up before hearing the answer. and it bugged me for days.

last night, i decided to take a drastic measure to prevent myself from going mad; i asked him straight out.

innocent enough, eh?

while i finally put that nagging thought to rest (it was metallica, by the way), he took it as my way of telling him i liked him. and he allegedly bragged to his friends, including a common friend of ours, about it.

what he doesn’t know is, i also dreamed of my colleague the next night, and i told him about it. so, if my colleague were anything like this dude, he would be bragging to his friends too… which is absurd since i can’t really control what i dream about.

besides, i have been dreaming about rockers for five days straight now. since he’s a drummer, it’s inevitable that he’d be featured in one of my dreams. (my colleague played the guitar in his old band).

oh well… maybe i should keep my mouth shut next time…

Brave The Unknown. Or Not.

as much as i enjoy reading the tarot, i’m actually too chicken to read my own. i hate knowing what would happen to me, especially in the immediate future, as it’d mean having to take myself more seriously.

case in point: my bro did a relationship spread for me last week cos he wanted to learn how to read. mr right was apparently already in my life and in the near future, i wiould fall in love and live happily ever after.

good news for most, but bad news for me.

i love being single. i love the freedom and the hassle-free existence. but if i had already met this dude and he were supposedly “da one”, would i have to take him on? if i didn’t, would i get another chance in the future? what if i changed my mind – next month, maybe – and thought, “the heck with singledom. i want a man!”? would it be too late then? should i take my life more seriously? am i running away from something? what the hell am i hiding from? is it serious? am i crazy? or am i sane but a little unwell?