hello!

a many thousand things have happened since i last wrote and for the past twenty minutes or so, i've been staring at this big block of white with the thin line appearing and disappearing incessantly. there are so many things i'd like to say at so many moments for the past year but i never had an idea of how to rather than where to begin with and this procrastination has taken its toll on me, with all these incidents now building up into this big ball of stories and emotions jumbled up inside my head. writing and keeping a record of this now feels strange to me, printing out images from my head into these characters, these words and occasionally looking up for a flamboyant word or phrase to show that i've not lose the touch to write. or maybe i already have. but for the past year or so i've been continuously asking myself through and through why do i write and what do i write about? i do not find it necessary to express my feelings in words anymore, not when now i have someone to share with; neither do i find an urge to translate images or that precise moment of life into words, not when now i do have a camera that will do the job for me; neither do i require to channel my wild imaginations of sorts on to this online platform, not when i am able to do it through producing videos. so, what really do i write about? 

i miss writing, this whole package of creativity bundled in words sleepless nights soft music in the earphones as well as that occasional cup of coffee and ten exact pieces of crackers - no more no less - and the silence of the streets that hums through the window in my room. i miss this tranquility when i write when i think of the next appropriate word to match the former when i pour out everything inside me and rearrange them into words and it feels like being immersed in deep waters and the moon rays dive through the waters and everything is still and silent and i have all the time i need in my pocket. it is like a time machine that connects all the emotions the memories of the past the present and the future every time i write. the same feeling that runs through my body and calming all my nerves and muscles telling them that everything's fine. then again, today i did not begin with the intention of writing about this and i digressed but the feeling's there again once more that feeling of tranquility there calmly flowing through my body and then i remember why i once loved writing and then it all comes down to the same question again:

what do i want to write about? 

welcome to the refuse room

where you are allowed to say no to anyone. children upon entering are allowed to say no to vegetables they don't like, to say no to classes they don't want to go, to say no to school, to say no to homework, to say no to curfew, to say no to punishment of any sort, to say no to sleeping earlier. grown ups upon entering are allowed to say no to any family/relationship obligations thrown at them, allowed to say no to questions which people expect a yes as an answer, allowed to say no when they feel like being mean and really really rude, allowed to say no to the confinement of this society the chains and barriers that hold them back from what they really want to be, allowed to say no and disregard of how the others feel, allowed to say no to those in power-disobeying direct orders, allowed to say no whenever they feel like it and allowed to not pretend and put on a smile that they don't mean it, allowed to say no to things that are not in their favor and make a big fuss out of it, allowed to say no to anything, everything and allowed to become a child once more when throwing tantrums and saying no is a privilege. 

2012

the morning breeze slither through the window grills pushing gently on the curtains and somewhere out there, the rumbling sound of a motorcycle engine which resists to be turned on and all the dreams scatter and run away into the dark. it is on days like these -days that i do not have to wake up to the phone alarm, a favorite song back then ten years ago- that i am grateful that i have enough sleep and that i have a feeling that today will be a good day. there's this spark of joy firing up the reactors within me as i push away the blankets get down from bed and run down the stairs and skipping a few steps just for good measure.

the phone rings and there's the reminder for an assignment due tomorrow and then all the other whatineedtodos come rushing and barging and darting in at once. today i shall procrastinate like any other day and indulge myself in this warm bath of sunlight and the neighborhood orchestra- a blend of chatters and engines and life- and pretend to be a king in this little fortress of mine, with walls of papers and books, right in front of the laptop. lecture starts at 130 and i have a feeling that i might be late. but it's alright because i have a feeling that it's going to be a good day.

we only meet at farewells and funerals.

and we joke and laugh. and we cry and mourn. we look at the one we have to bid farewell to - in the coffin, at the gate, all the same - and wave our hands. we talk to them trying to persuade them to stay on - at least a little bit longer. we ask them to take care when we realize that's not going to happen. we'd repeat the same questions and hope for an answer we would want to hear. we walk closer when they say its time to leave. we hug the alive and embrace the dead in our hearts. we stare at them when they leave as if they'd come back if we stared harder. we pound on the window panes and the wooden box when they leave and hope they'd look back one more time. we cry again and we mourn again. and the moment before they disappear from sight, we hold our breaths, grasping any tiny chance of hope around and in the end disappoint ourselves again. they leave, never looking back.

we say 'keep in touch.'-despite the fact that we always never do- , wave, and leave for our respective homes.

then we say hi again when someone has to leave us. all the same again.

goodnight.

here's silence marching on the road with proud strides and an air of arrogance. the trees stood still at attention and the dim roadlights stopped flickering. a cat which was purring gently at the air on the wall paused and looked around. something's out there. her pupils dilate but there was nothing for her to focus on. silence chuckled and waved gently at her. she stood up alerted and with swift movements jumped off the wall and scurried away. without looking back. somewhere near where silence stood a car alarm went off. he frowned, walked over and patted the car gently. the alarm stopped and the snoring from within the house resumed.

oh look the lights are still on in this house.

silence stood right in front of the door and smiled. his spread his arms and closed his eyes and then the smile on his face broaden. he began to grow in size. he grew and grew until the window on the upper floor was at his eye level. and he walked towards the house. he diffused through under the doors and crept in from the window. he rolled across the living room and crawled up the stairs. he walked in to the only room where the light was still on and never bothered to close the door behind.

the boy was alarmed and shocked to see him in his room. silence only smiled and opened his mouth. he engulfed the boy.

across the road the cat stared blankly at the house and thought she heard a scream.

Orientation

has it only been three weeks? three weeks since I introduced myself in front of a bunch of juniors in that small crappy room like a failed job interview despite the infinite times I ran through the introduction in my mind during lectures earlier that morning. i was looking at a group of blank and lost faces who stared back at me and laughed dryly at the jokes I tried to crack and thinking to myself that they must be thinking to themselves who the fuck is this.

but now.

it only seemed like a few moments ago that i was cheering screaming laughing pelvic thrusting with them and there were many times I wished I were with them instead of getting stuck in a room with a woman that read so slow the dinosaurs relived and became fossils again or in a hall where the only thing I see on the screen is all their faces, all enthusiastic and looking ready and set to do something exciting. i must admit that i did dreamt of them. then again, it felt like I was going through orientation all over again. it definitely did not feel like three weeks to me. it only felt like a day and yet, like we have been friends for so long. they were so real, free of false pretenses and had nothing to hide. i wonder at times that if the wall that I had around me still stands as firm as strong as rigid as it used to be. then I realize that there must have been a crack somewhere and something must have seeped through.

here's to new friends and unexpected friendships.