I look at you with sad, sad eyes

I know you'll never read this anyway, so I'll put this up here.

Now I look at you with sad, sad eyes
You broke my heart you did
I fell in love with you but now
I’ve fallen out of it

I look at you with sad, sad eyes
This feeling in my heart
It suffocates my soul, my love
It dries away my art

I look at you with sad, sad eyes
And thank you for the times
You let me be your friend although
This feeling now sublimes

I look at you with sad, sad eyes
I love the way you are
I love the way you look as well
I can only stare from quite afar

I look at you with sad, sad eyes
I’ve nothing more to say
Thank you for breaking my heart
And now…I’ll walk away.

Symmetry

The heart is beauty adorned with roses
Sides shapely with wings to escalate emotion
I carefully erect this sign on many proses
With gentle touch and gentlemanly caution

Her eyes are shining like the moon
And bless thee who see thyself in that reflection
One look and one will be falling very soon
Into the pits of her romantical deception

So I garner up my armour tight
And stand tall with ardour hope
You are my endless shining light
With you I may in openess elope.

Author's Tears

All heed the author's tears
As they fall down upon the paper reels
And taint the ink with tragedies that
Sing their song in silence

All heed the author's fears
Liquidified upon his cheek
Rolling down their endless trail
And never finding what they seek

All heed the author's tears
For tears of him will never last
For she cannot be gotten
And hopeless tears may dry up fast

All heed the author's tears
For her who ran into the wind

Feelings

Today a friend told me about someone who passed on. Someone who was backstabbed, trodden upon, and betrayed by his friends. Someone who had to give up his only close friend sdue to constant teasing. Yet he does his best to give his best for the best of his class. This friend has decided to do justice for that special someone, for when he is gone, only his name leaves on. I find that both of them are noble in their actions and deeds.

I felt akwardly strange, I didn't seem to feel anything. I guess I was supposed to feel a bit of sorrow, a bit of pain, a bit of loss, but nothing seems to come to heart. I felt like I was in a land of dried cracked ground where the sky is constantly filled with black angry clouds refusing to rain. My heart needs some emotions to feel.

They say that emotions are energy. These few days has been witnessing to my lack of energy, and I believe that's because I'm numbed to most emotions. I feel distraught because I don't feel what my friends feel, and I cry not because of the lost of that someone, but I cried (without a tear, for only seconds at most) because I felt nothing for that someone whom I was supposed to feel for. Now I wish someone would give me back all of my feelings, anger, sorrow, fear, shame, and gladness.

I wished I found the key to open the chest in my heart so I can feel myself again.

Time to wake up

Things I need to change:
Laziness
Lust
Addiction to computer games
Lack of commitment
Empty promises
Swearing
Taking people and things for granted

Things I'm happy about:
The people who can stand being around me
The people who talk to me
All the things that I currently have
Physical security
Parents

Things I'm happy about myself:
I'm alive.
I don't know what else.

It's a long time.

It's a long time since I've been here. A long time since I face this screen once more. A long time since I'm typing my thoughts on blank pixels. A long time since I've even cared. Now I am back after a long time, and I must reflect. I look at the screen and it looks back at me, and I wonder if it will ever talk back. Tomorrow is Saturday. I am going to prepare a speech on Saturday.

I don't really like the speech anyway. It's not interesting anymore. There seems to be a fire at the back of my head. And in the pits of my tummy. It burns me up and makes me tired even though I am doing nothing. I keep raging, raging around to find something interesting to do. But I barely get started into doing it before I give it up. It feels as if we're going no where, there are no goals, no achievements, the ball is on the field and you can kick it anywhere you want to. But there is no motivation accept for things temporal, and thus the ball dances around the field without going anywhere.

I wished I could open my mouth and say something that makes sense. Most of the time, the things that come out of my mouth are either nonsense, slightly sensible stuff that are said because teachers need us to present in front of the class, or stuff that are forced out and said reluctantly. I don't wish to be quiet either.

The thing that makes life bearable is communication. It's the essence of life and the fire of life. It's also one thing I haven't been doing often. I feel rusty at it.

Perhaps I should just stop talking about myself. Kind of boring ain't it? Hearing someone talking about himself.

I shall go to sleep good night.

Blogging

There is this thing about blogging that I cannot fathom. Why should I tell the world my private self when I myself have yet to come to terms with it? Perhaps it's the "put the cart before the horse" effect. This means that when I blog about my private self, it is understood that I have come to terms with it.

Now whether I have come to terms with it or not is not for me to answer is it? The knowledge of it does no good to me. Therefore, today we'll talk about apples.

Apples are probably the most wonderful things ever. When you pluck them from trees, you'll hear that resounding snap that reassures you of your significance on this earth in which you were planted. Of course you'll be walking back to your summer house with the sun shining on your sticky back, but you're happy anyway because you've got that apple to eat. Apples can be eaten in many different ways. You can nibble 'em, or peel off it's stubborn skin, or lick it, or just chomp your mouth on it like what I always do when I'm flustered by the fact that there's an apple to eat.

I believe that apples should be eaten middle first. This is to create the "hour-glass" shape that seems appleing to me. Did I just say Appleing? I mean appealing. Once you're done with carving off the middle, you can enjoy your success by slowly chipping off the top and bottom of what's left protruding from the apple's core. Done with that? Now eat the core. Nono I'm not joking. Eat the core. Yes, that's right, eat it.

Uh, are you asking me now what to do with the seeds? You swallow them. NO NOT... ok. I was just kidding. Spit them out. Spit them out now. On the soil. Yes. That's right. Good job. You've eaten an apple and helped to propagate it's species! Now do you see why apples are probably the most wonderful things ever? I do.

Mutters some gibberish

I am convinced that prolonged periods of sport makes you stupid. It's true. I just can't think of anything else to write. My vocab is dropping, I'm struggling to maintain some form of grammar, and I'm becoming restless. My mouth and throat feels tingling. I want to sleep now but I wished I could hear that ethereal voice before. I go.

Spare me at least thy presence
How foolish am I
How silly am I
Spare me at least your presence.

The road I've found

The road says that if you choose peace, you'll find it, if you choose joy, you'll find it, and if you choose love, you'll find it.

I've found it's true.

And truth is a lovely thing.

Flickering Modem

Today lightning struck near me, very near my peaceful window, and thunder like a circus whip snapped the skies asunder. It was loud and painful. For some reason or another, my modem started flickering and the connection was lost; I believe it could be static distrubances in the air. The modem could only work four hours later and I couldn't remember what homework I wanted to do.

So I turned on the computer and started chatting. And blogging. And deciding that I should turn off the thing because it's hurting my eyes and there are some water splots on the screen filter that makes light look rainbowish puddled.

I found the road

I found a road to take and it leads to inherent happiness with sunshine lighting all the way.

Paths to Travel

Now two roads lay before me.

Should I step in continued failure the one I have embarked
On which cracked and creaked and never really let pass
But which I have walked on for certain ages
For which I have passed and failed

Or should I go back to the confident road
Which may let me pass in ease but
May never show me what lies
Beyond the trees encapering
Protecting me from
What lies beyond
The path's edge.

Or perhaps there be a better road that shows me
How, when and wherefore and even why I
Shall walk the road of difficulty
But first I must muster
The easy road
To learn
To walk.

The people on the MRT

Usually, I stare at the people at the MRT. Usually, they don't look back. Until today *dramatic music* ... they looked. And some of them even smiled.

Gasp.

The guys on the bus however, are still dull and dreary.

T'was raining quite coldly today
And I think it was quite a fine way
To slow my intake of water
Should I digest my own bladder
While peeing away the acid and fray

The wind is strong outside, the trees are shuffling in painful protest, and a resonating shudder woke me from my slumber as a door slammed shut for eternal rest.

Yawn

I shall go to sleep now after reading something.

Posting

I don't feel like posting anymore. I think I've ran out of steam. Someone do dump some water into my belly, turn on the heat and keep me pumping.

I took a detour home today, and then I saw a phenomenal sight in the skies today, the sun shaded in its majestic clouds and thunder rolling in lightning's sacred pathways; all in the same sky. I had believed for a moment that some kind of envoy informed the sun's escorts, who in their urgency, shielded its full shining glory. Sure enough, as I walked up the overhead bridge, lightning scoured the skies beyond, warning of much more to come.

And so I turned my back against the brewing storm while the air around me whispered of a peace enveloping 'round my heart's tired dodged beatings. The shallow wind came from a greater hand, the greater hand who led me home.

If I could post while walking around, just walking around, I think it'll be great.

A song at the eleventh hour

Someone tell me
The truth about beauty

I want to know more about you,
I want to know more about you...








Uh. I'm going to finish this up and write a song later. I will.

Let me stare blankly at the screen

We all know how interesting it is to read about how some one stares blankly at the screen. Ok. Drop that. I don't feel like writing today.

But I'll just write because I don't want to sleep just yet. I've got too much junk in my simple head. I want to talk to someone. Someone, will you call me? Or something. Anyone. Any interesting fellow who can engage in decent convsersation not involving homework or the likes. Please call me.

I am waiting patiently. Uh. Are you there, somebody? No somebody isn't there. Somebody isn't calling me. Interesting. Apparently wishes don't come true all the time.


*Is slapped by the rough calloused hand of reality* I suspect that the rough calloused hand of reality plays softball. I bet he has a blister on the second segment of his middle finger and a few marks at each finger's base just like me. He's hands are probably sore from holding unfriendly softball bat grips that rub against your poor little palms when you swing it hard in a fine attempt to send the ball all the way down the hill and out of the school. Poor reality.

I was playing the piano in the piano room today. After picking a leaf from the centre of the boarding complex, and waiting for choon hiang to finish his one packet of chips so that he can sneak the other four packets to certain places (such as the construction site duh) to eat, I went into the MEP room just below 3Qs. Which was the room that I just left awhile earlier because I had this feeling that a relief teacher will take the place of Mr. Ali who went for badminton training. Wait what am I saying? I meant he went to support our school's badminton match. Dude, I hope they won. Mr. Ali's a nice guy. Anyway the suspected relief teacher (which up to this day remains only as a figment of my beautiful imaginations) did not come, and the class of course, was in fine chaos and soahc. That led me to following choon hiang to the sacred vending machine, where I personally saw him buy 6 packets of junk, giving me one of them because it was merely obstructing the way of TEH CRUNCHY NUTS. I finished up the MIXED NUTS during recess later. Aha. While watching him put those irresistable twistyfries into his mouth, I went to the Utopian circle at the centre of the boarding house. The sunlight was shining upon its mirthful architecture, and I jumped up, attempted to grab a leave, and missed. Twice. Then I finally got one. It was tres beau, very beautiful, and when turned upside down it looks like a female face. I was stroking it around my traverse to RJC with victor and shahan later. And then I stuffed it into my pants and later it(theleaf) smelled like guava. I think it was a guava leaf.

Back to the piano room. I placed the leaf on the place where you would have placed the score. Then I played a song about the leaf, got messed up while reinventing melodies, and found it turning into the standard mysterious ethereal song that comes to me naturally whenever I dance upon the piano's keys.

Then I left the room almost forgetting about the leaf till choon hiang reminded me about it. He said leaf. I thought he said lift. Uh. I got confused. Then I realised leaf! Oh. Then I stuffed it into my pocket.

Hee, thanks choon hiang. But BUT but the leaf was stifled anyway. I didn't even know where it was at the end of the day. Next time I see a pretty leaf I'll leave it the way it is, and perhaps, just maybe, smile at it sweetly.

I feel deprived and desperate. Goodnight people. Let's hope I sleep well tonight.

This space is for Yu Min's Autoblogography.

Note from Reuben:
[This space here is for YuMin's Autoblogoraphy. No part of it was touched by me. Feel free to comment. It's best read while sipping tea. Meanwhile, have a nice day.]

The Chinese believe that two symmetrical moles in close proximity in certain shapes indicate that the person will be executed when he grows up. If that’s true, I’d do well to toe the line when I grow up, and I would include a photo here of the birthmarks in question, if not for the fact that the moles aren’t in a place I generally display to people. Generally.

I was born in the National University Hospital in Singapore, despite both my parents being Malaysian citizens at the time. This would lead to long trips back and forth from their hometowns, across the Malaysian expressways, something that has stayed with me ever since. I am still in regular contact with many of my cousins.

I’ve never really understood the point of an autobiography at age fifteen, especially since none of us have done anything even remotely outstanding yet. Ask us our hobbies, and you’d be hard pressed to get any answer that’s not soccer, computer games or music. Hmm. In fact, all that’s pretty much ever mattered to me is playing joga benito (beautiful football), or trying to play, in my case, and computer games.

I’ve never understood those who can never understand what the point is of supporting a club literally halfway across the world, whose players have never heard of you, and where you’ve never been. My answer is, it may not make much difference to them (in fact, it probably won’t make a difference at all) but it sure makes a difference to you, if you care enough. Personally, and although I sound like a very bad made-in-China James Dobson here, I feel it builds character. Homework due tomorrow? Million-to-one odds against your team winning? Spouse leaving and taking the kids? Heck, house burning down? Who cares, turn on the box and eat your heart out, as they lose again, and again, and again.

The true fan is the one who firmly believes that God is on his side, and that if they win or lose it depends on him. He yells advice at the TV as if the players could hear him, and he fervently refuses to use the phone when his team is losing, just in case the manager calls him for help.

Ah well.

As I write these words, I’ve nearly crocked (or was it cricked?) my neck from turning back and forth to watch as my beloved team gets spanked – yet again. Are we going to score? Nope, but why take a chance?

Following making my move here permanent in 1995, I enrolled in Pei Hwa Presbyterian Primary School in 1998. Seven is a little young to make judgments, especially on schools, so I won’t. Took the GEP test and apparently passed well (although if you believe a certain conspiracy theory, some of the GEPs are “control students”).

ACS Primary, my next stop, is a place I went to because all the kids from my block were going there, but I’ll never forget the three years I spent there. They were quite possibly some of the best years I ever had, honestly, where I had one of the best English teachers ever, a certain Mrs Jeyathurai. Without a doubt, had I never met her, or been taught by her, I would not have passed my English PSLE. Yes, before you ask, I was that bad.

Now I’m in Raffles. Do I believe the hype of being a Rafflesian, green black white? No, and I’m running out of words, so I’ll round off by suggesting that I may not be here next year round, at the rate my scores are dropping. However, in the tried-and-true ex-ACSian way, it’s not my fault, it’s Raffles’!

I liked today.

I think today was a rather beautiful day. I like it now. I like it that the rain is pouring, that the cars are swooshing the water round the roadsides, I like it that no one cares that it's pouring, and I think it's beautiful.

And today makes me feel like a renegade, like a mirrage who has finally found its origin; I feel full today. And I feel like a renegade against my old broken self, I've turned my back and I'm spiting you now. You shall not come back upon me for I have taken you off like a coat, and upon my naked self, dressed Goodness like a coat.

I love this feeling.

I'm now drinking some sort of longan tea. I suspect it's laced with ginseng, but then it now tastes all the more fuller and richer in tone and depth and complexity. And I like it that it isn't complex anymore when I expose your gold-hued ingredients: longan and ginseng. Ha. *pokes*

The warm water enlaced my fingertips with its careful embrace. Its love was too intense for me, and I remove myself, sliding freely from its gentle hold. My fingertips still sting with a nostalgic candor. I feel almost incandescent.

Forgive me if it sounds sexual; I was merely describing the action of poking longan and ginseng tea.

And it still sounds like fun, let me try again. *pokes the tea*

Ahhhh...what sweet beauty.

After this I shall do my homework. Quite obviously so. I hope.

The Transcendence of Another Sort of Matter (2006)
By me, Wooben.

I have an ambitious dream which I dare not believe in my awakening hours
for There is a sort of lingering beauty wherever you seemed to walk
I could if I wanted and fear-ed not, choose a few springfresh autumn flowers
for you and There is a sort of unspeakable beauty in your sweetbitter talk

I am perhaps smitten and bitten and shooken in so farce a state
That my mind is a little frostbitten and unable to state
How and why and all the little reasons
I have to simply want to give you flowers in all the seasons

Love is a rather illogical fallacy
It is the exact definition of non-sequitur
And it is often rambled about in poems
Written by all sorts

But in the end
It is just a simple thing
That was once disguised in
Rhyme, and time and makeup and
Acting and superficialities
But is now a rather simple
Liberating, fresh and
Really wonderful
Divine thing
called
Love.

To Tell a Tale of Innocence

To Tell a Tale of Innocence (2006)
Reubie.

To tell a Tale of Innocence
One must first Look at the End
For True Innocence Knows not the
how, or why, Knowing only the What.


And therefore Innocence in it's blissful ride
Questions with no authority of dominance
How, and Why, Questioning not the what.
For it aims to complete itself with what it

Does not have.

True Innocence Knows the End.

Aha.

Ah..guys here's a poem.

Here I Am A Little Lonely (2006)
Reuben Liang

Here I am, All…alone.
Sitting all here alone, I am, A Lone.
Sitting so lonely, alone, I am
How I wished my com was my friend
How I wished – The End.

No not yet.

Ah, so I mumble and grumble and
Out of the pout comes
A few words
Here and there

Ah, a few words that makes
Kind of a lot of sense
When put together
Oh a few words that’s true

Just wished I could stop
Thinking of you…
Ah lalalala thinking of you.

And I shall break and sing a song for you.

Sing a little song
Just a little song
Oh, one littlediddle song
For you…youyouyouyouyou double you…

And,
Shall I stop this crooning
Stop this awestruck moaning
Stop this onetime morning
With you?

Or should I
Just give up in this quitting
Start to try to stop fretting
And speak a little dingaling (a dingaling, a dingalingsa ling a ding)
With you?

Youyouyou youyouyou youyouyou youyou (equals 5 W’s) with you?

Oh lalalalalala…

And back to this poem shall we?
You first, and with my wave of my hand I let you inside
Inside this door, This inside door, to showoff my floor
Or would you like to look at my ceiling too? (my flaw)

My door. My flore. Bon soire. With you?

Ok why not.

So go go go go into the room room and sit down with me
In a group with my friends and all oh well

I just hope you will be fine and comfy
In this fine and comfy room
And I want to spend time

With you.

Youyouyou, dingaling, dingadong
Lingaling a lingaling a ling a song
With you you you you,
With you.

The End, Thank you.

Youyouyouyouyou.















You.


Yeah you.

Reuben Liang is kinda Blue.

A little about ants.

I saw an ant in the toilet one day. He was a cute, friendly brown ant. You know, the kind with big eyes and a huge smile? Yup. That's him. So he was just running along (all ants run along don't you know?) on the brown sand-washed toilet tiles with a few other antsy friends when I saw him pause a moment.

Guess what he was carrying.

Arh. It was a dead ant. Poor ant. I went off my throne and gave his friend a few seconds of silence. Then I went back on. The throne. Yeah. Poor filial ant. I should have squashed him.

Two seconds later I spotted a few sneaky crawlers. The black ants of the kitchen prairie's pride. They came crawling over the Higher Tiles, obviously alluding to some kind of grand rank. GRAH. They went off. I had an instinct to squash them. But I didn't. They went off.

Aha. Then what did I do? I gave a royal flush, took off the suit, and turned on the shower. After awhile I realised that there were ants in the presence of the Lower Toilet Tiles. I guessed they died. Just. Died. Like that. The tsunami washed them away and all.

Were they thinking, Where's God? My friend just died and now you send a huge tidal wave that came from the Greater Walls which washed us ALL away? Are you really THERE AT ALL?

Nah they weren't thinking that. I love ants because they are in tune with God's higher purpose and they live well, work hard, and love defi-antly no matter what circumstances, and they don't hijack their own happiness.

Dear Ants, I wished I can hug you all but you are too small and I don't want to squash you. Reub Out and God bless.

Yeah.

Ahh Stygian.

This is one of Rupert Brooke's Sonnets (not suggesting that he wrote only sonnets, or specialised in them, just that he could probably have more sonnets written 0.o but I've this feeling it's about war):

"Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire..."
by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,

One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing, And tremble.
And I shall know that you have died.

And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam---
Most individual and bewildering ghost!---

And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.



Oh! Did you see that word Stygian there in bold? I like the word stygian.

Stygianstygianstygianstygianstygianstygianstygianstygianstgian.

If you look very carefully your eyes will start playing tricks on you and it look like Giants? Y? Ok maybe it's just my eyes. My wonderful Exposed-To-UV-Under-The-Sun-At-Padang-Because-Somebody-Was-Too-Ego-To-Put-On-A-Cap-Eyes. In summary ETUVUTSAPBSWTETPOAC. It's almost unpronuciable so we'll just leave it as the standard unpronunciable acronym where everyone speaks only the letters.

Good job guyzz, it's like he has teh ETUVUTSAPBSWTETPOAC eyezzz doodzz, like a mouthfull mannn...

0.0

I wished

I wish a lot of things. I wish I could see life simply. I wish I would stop having unecessary thoughts, (I'm still struggling with the word necessary, I still remember saying to my father, " [blahblahblah some stuff I can't remember] nece-necessa-neces-nec-necessary...Daddy, how do you spell necessary?" when I was about very young in the toilet) so that I can enjoy most of life.

Actually I can. Thank God for wishes come true. One step at a time though.

Now let me think of what homework I have today. Goodness! I have no homework today! Only last terms homework which is due next term which will begin on wednesday. Pure Bliss and happinesss.

My mother says that if I finish my work in the weekdays, I will be able to go around during the weekends, which is fine with me, just that I can't seem to finish my work in the weekdays. Come on, more discipline.

Hmm :) I am amused with myself. One day I am going to start an amusement theme park. Called I, Me, Myself. After awhile it's going to be boring so we'll change it to something like You, And You, And You All, And All Of You, And I, And Us, And Together. I think that's a cool name.

You?

For the sake of autobiography?

The next post could be, for the sake of autobiography

For the sake of autobiography?

Hello. On a certain Saturday the 13th, sometime near the afternoon's calming sun, I was born. It was a wonderful time to shed my first tears, knowing that the sun will dry them all up in time to come. I believe though, that my first cry was a very cute one. I really do. I live in Singapore, a little island which in its entirety, seems to be a very large place compressed quickly into a small little isle. How else do you explain the cultural differences? We see much diversity in the land upon which I live in, as many different races living together will inevitably lead to different kinds of food, lifestyles, and upbringing, which in the end will merge back into one whole Singaporean identity. My family is very blessed to have me. Or rather, I am very blessed to have my family. I have a mother, a father, and a brother, all of whom are still alive, full of loving-kindness and accepting enough to entertain a rather rebellious and system-challenging child.My name is Reuben. There it is, the first time I mention my name on this blog. I go to a wonderful school with a staff of almost equally wonderful teachers who teach classes of wholly interesting students. A pity though, that there are no females of my age in this school. I have won a few awards, mostly due to my hesitant nature which takes me far away from award yielding competitions. The reason why I have a couple of lonely trophies on my shelf is because I am in a CCA which has annual tournaments. For some reason or another, I was selected into Softball when I clearly placed it as my eighth choice for CCA selection. They either hated me or loved my physical skills a little too much. For the sake of dramatic effect, I am convinced it is both.Right now I can say that I am happy, because I was once sad. Inevitably, happiness will come to a sad man. I cannot be certain if I am a happy person or a sad person for both is needed to make a person. For good reason, let it be said that I am a happy man. I have few friends, but many acquaintances. If you ever see me out of my home, I would either be conserving energy or expending it on you. That is, if you prove to be a worthy and interesting investment of my relational energy. I have never had a girlfriend and do not plan to have one in the near future. There is though, a wish to share my life with another being of the opposite sex. In my brief years of communication with a few females, I have realised that I do want a female; a loving one, no not the bull-headed logical one, just one who loves me. A little emotional flaring is fine, I do find for a fact females with unstable balance of emotions and logic interesting.I do not plan to look into the future. If I ever marry, I would want my wife to be one who looks into the future for me, one who loves me for who I am, one who is smart enough to understand me, one who is kind enough (and intelligent as well) to laugh at my humour, and one who makes me feel needed by her even though I may not be. And yes, we will have many kids of course, unless we find it a burden in the future.In conclusion, I hope to be remembered even though I may never be. But it does not really matter, for even the words of wise men who are remembered will be perverted in the flux of mankind's foolishness. I am Reuben, and yes I have exceeded the word limit. Goodbye for now.

Why I miss you.

I haven't heard your voice for a freakin' long time.

I have this feeling your studies are screwed.

I believe that led to estrangement.

Which was also due to overeagerness on my part.

You are very attractive to me.

And thus the lack of you tears part of my heart away.

You don't judge me.

~To my friend LavivaGrashnezaJ

Logical Steps Taken When One Has Fallen In Love

When one has fallen in love, the situation can be viewed as such:

Conscious Side of Self has found a person in which its Unconscious Side can be projected upon. This is analogous to physical sexuality, where an outward projection is projected into an inward receptor.

Falling in love can thus be viewed as falling into a person's well-developed receptor of your Self. This could be the reason why most cases of falling in love is one sided; the one upon which you have fallen for cannot possibly find the space in you to fall for.
________________
================\

________________ /

In this model the two horizontal outer lines and two right most diagonal lines represents the receptor, in which case is Love, and the projection (formed by mulitple equal signs) is the Self who is in Love.

This example of falling in love is a childish falling in love, where you fell in love with love and not the other person. Common symptoms are talking about one's experience, talking about how much you love the person, and talking about oneself's role in the relationship.

When one has truly experienced love:

In this case equilibrium and harmonious beliefs has been percieved.

There is no model suited to present that concept, and therefore I shall provide none.

The highest form of love:

God's Love.

In this case, God does the humanly impossible thing to do, he becomes the receptor in which we fall into. This requires much humbling and love. When Jesus Christ became a man who was yet fully God, he endured humbling and hardship. All in the name of love. As such God is love.

In the case of obedience, those who have fallen in love with God are now called to obey him. Obedience is painful as it draws us from our powerful projection status into the submissive receptor status. This allows God to love us, and in the process, healing us/ourselves.

Love is thus submissive before corrective. In which the stage of submissiveness requires the lover to have an omnipotent sense of correctness and a place within which the beloved may be powerful in. In other words love must first be submissive and allow the lover to be strong within love's own receptors. What happens later is a opposite in order to seek balance, the lover becomes slowly, the receptor, and love goes into it, sliding in gently, guiding slowly, and pushing its way to perfection, glistening the edges and sides of the lover and sculpting it into true sure love, and love can now be the lover in what was the lover.

This I believe, is an example of true love, and is my perception of God's working in man.

That means that one day I'll be the container to contain God. Doesn't that just sound great? :)


After all they say that females experience more pleasure than men. I believe its because they are the receptors. So if we are the receptors of God how pleasurable will that be. (:

A little about last night

Before I forget, I'd like to write a little about last night. I think last night was one of the most wonderful nights I had out. Spending time talking at the KFC outlet has surprising potential which no one foresaw. At first we had no plan, just sorting things out along the way, watching a movie as it came to us, sitting around eating desserts and talking while waiting for the movie to start, getting kicked out of the arcade before that because Yong was wearing school pants. *chuckles* Then after the movie we went to X-square to get owned at halo. I meant, play halo. Yes play halo 2. XD

And I faced a sort of internal conflict there. Something said that I could go home. Go home, rest. And maybe study for a theory test. Yet somethings are done. And so because somethings were done, I found myself playing X-Box and getting owned at Halo 2. And waiting for our form teacher for twenty minutes before having dinner at KFC after. 'Twas worth the wait though. Again she came with the big smile that made her look tall and her presence makes us all feel. Accepted. It was interesting.

:) Hmmm. Victor almost turned extraverted during our long talk/gossip *Rehmm* I meant sharing of school life anecdotes and jokes. It was a great night, with people talking, sharing, and laughing. Hug. I love laughing. You guys who weren't here we kind of missed you and all.

But if you guys were there we can't talk about you behind your back like what we did to everybody else. XD

I do want to look back and laugh again at last night with all 10 of you who were there; Kin Chun, Choon Hiang, Ajay, Victor, Gabriel, Austin, Lee He, Reuben / Me, Shahan, and Furly Kuo *ahem* I meant Ms Kuo.

I think I need to drink some more water. My throat is a little dry these few days.

And experiences may need to be written down lest they replay in your mind forever and you can't have new ones. Good morning lovely people.

Reading what you wrote

After I read what I wrote, I didn't like most of it. I especially didn't like the part where I stripped down to my emotions and ran around. Naked.

But screw it. This blog is Letting Go and it's the place where I place my childish emotions online. Why online? I don't know. I just know that online is the place where there is a sense of shared consciousness.

And so I've decided. I'm letting go all my love and hate for other people. Maybe I'm weak at emotions for now. It could be due to my belief in my weakness. But I'm letting it go. So that I won't be overwhelmed.

I apologise for flooding servers with words that could sound as if it came from a drunken man.

What are diaries for if no one reads them? All diaries are written in hope of acceptance. Almost all. Ok maybe only a few. Hates disclaimers. And generalized statements. And niceties. Grah.

The differences between strings

There are many differences between strings. First of all some strings may be tight and others are loose. This is due to three reasons. Firstly, tautness. This results in many things. One of them being unfulfilled expectations. What may this lead to? Possibly sadness.

Go think of all the second and third possibilities that I haven't thought of. Have fun.

About falling in love

Poor boppy. He's still sleeping in his dream. Meanwhile let me talk about my life.

I hate falling in love, it's so wonderful. You can fall in love with a million people at once. But then that's crappy. It sucks. I'm lost.

Maybe I'll sleep now. You guys out there, you're privileged to see what I think when I'm insane. No you aren't. But you shall pause now and falter a little because I'm going to sleep now.

When I sleep I'll dream about a million things like 1 and 2 and three and 4 and all the way to a million. And then I win and we wake up. And oh goodness, we fall asleep again. Goodnight.

Maybe I'll massage your head for a little while. Of course I demand that you massage mine. I've got a headache. When I say you do you really think I mean you? Of course not. I mean me. As in you and you is me and barney loves us all. Does he? He's just a purple dinosaur. Like. Humphrey the bear. I like you. Thanks for reading this.

Boppy has a revelation

Boppy went on with his life. He went on with his life for days by days by days. He was just living; and he was merely living. He felt that it has become a burden. Since when was life a burden? And so it was today when he really sat down and asked a question "What is my life all about?" But before he seeked an answer to his question, he realised: Who made me? I must have been made! How else could I live? How else can I exist? He wanted to know who made him.

A wave of sadness swept over him. Whoever he was made by must have been sad at him, probably even unhappy with him, angry with him, and disliked him. What was so great about me? he asked. After all, he was just a dot. A dot living in the fourth-dimension. He was not deserving of anything at all! And as a dot, he wasn't even perfect, not even round, not even edgy, he was a freak of occurance, an outcast of possibility! How could he continue living? How could he feel happy anymore? "Oh Creator! If you do exist, tell me what my life is all about! I am in despair! I am in need of help, and guidance, and direction! Bring me out of this swirling vortex. I cannot escape, I am weak, I am too tired, I am just a dot. Just a dot!" Boppy cried out a most honest, humble, heartwrenching and sincere plea to the Maker of all things.

And He replied, "Boppy, I know you are imperfect, I know that you are dirty inside, your shiny-glossed black outside was just an effort to hide the dirt. You are feeling tired, and you need help. And here I am. Rest in me Boppy. I am perfect. I am complete. I am your saviour. You need me Boppy. And I love you. I love you Boppy for who you are, for I made you and I know you inside out. I see that your heart is troubled, that your soul cries out for acceptance, and your spirit is dry of love. Come to me, you are weary and burdened, for my yoke is light and gentle, and I will give you wings to rise like the eagles and you will soar in the skies, you will walk and not grow weary, run and not grow faint.

I am your everlasting supply of stregth, your tower of refuge, your shield against your enemies. I am your shelter in times of need, I am a forgiving father, and I love you beyond what you can ever imagine. All I demand is your obedience. And I command you to drop your burdens and follow me. I will teach you how to love, I will teach you how to please me. If you wait upon my commands and obey them with faith, which I will freely give, and do it with trust in me, I will give you the desires of your heart, because I know what you really want, for I made you. I love you, Boppy.

Boppy, I have prepared a treasure, a reward for you. No created consciousness has ever comprehended what I have prepared for you, no eyes have every seen, or ears ever heard, of what I have prepared for those who love me. Will you believe that I died for you when you were still dirty, when you were still my enemy? Will you commit your life to my hands? I do not promise your life to be a smooth sailing one; I tell you it will not be easy. But I promise you that I will always be by your side, that I will carry you when you are weak, that I will sustain you when you are in need. I promise to love you forever, infinitely. I promise to give my all to you. I promise to give you joy even when it is not going well with you and when there is trouble, I promise you will find my joy in you your strength. I promise you peace, and security. The road is not wide nor easy to pass. The road is thin and hard to walk. Many may try, but alone, they will fall. Few will rest in me and in so doing, are able to pass the road, for they have found that to cross the road, they need me.

Will you obey me Boppy, will you pick up the cross and follow me Boppy, will you drop your burdens and be raised up by me Boppy?"

Boppy heard it with his brokened and contrite heart, and down his roundedness rolled down tears of pure joy. Crystal tears of joy dripped down his face. He has found the treasure he was seeking, and the answers he had sought to find. "Yes, Creator, I am willing. I have another question though. What is an eagle?"