Three corpses lie in front of me. Lighted by the laptop's pale white
light of condescending nature. The light, it seems to mock the stiff,
bodies that lay there. It was a testament to my impatience, and the
unholy bloodlust that I have to seem have developed as of late.
But yet they kept coming. They taunt me.
They want to see how many more I can take before I finally succumb.
It is as if the corpses of their brothers and sisters that I have happily murdered were just mere puppets to test my mettle.
I
sit here, the room covered in darkness. My naked upper half remains
unguarded, unarmored, laying itself wide open to as if goad my enemies
into taking the first strike. But my eyes remain wild and calculating.
It darts from left to right, waiting, for that moment when it darts its
black figure across the stark whiteness of the computer screen.
*CLAP*
Another
body falls on the keyboard of laptop, its quivering frame refusing to
give in to the reaper's scythe. But hope is all but extinguished; I have
not yet noticed its limp, but shivering body that tries to crawl itself
away from its apparent landing spot. It hopes to crawl into some blind
spot, recover from the beating that I have given it, and strike at me
again in order to devour the fresh blood that lies beneath my skin.
But it is too late.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Clarity's a curse. (2/10/13)
Well, at least the truth's out.
Indirectly, at that.
Funny, I thought I was to feel relief, knowing that I would be set free by it.
I am not.
Resentment is clouding my judgement and rationale. Self hate is starting to boil in me like an impatient volcano. Indifference is beginning to feel its blades into my emotional threshold with a single purpose: to kill the lot of them.
I don't hate her.
Just hate myself.
Funny how your happiness could be shot down so easily. So fragile, the moments of joy, a single, sharpened pellet of reality could just shatter it into a million indiscernible figures.
An old scar tore itself open deep within me.
From now on I will know no trust, know no love, and know that for every happiness, there's always a blood sacrifice involved.
Clarity's a cruel curse, indeed.
Indirectly, at that.
Funny, I thought I was to feel relief, knowing that I would be set free by it.
I am not.
Resentment is clouding my judgement and rationale. Self hate is starting to boil in me like an impatient volcano. Indifference is beginning to feel its blades into my emotional threshold with a single purpose: to kill the lot of them.
I don't hate her.
Just hate myself.
Funny how your happiness could be shot down so easily. So fragile, the moments of joy, a single, sharpened pellet of reality could just shatter it into a million indiscernible figures.
An old scar tore itself open deep within me.
From now on I will know no trust, know no love, and know that for every happiness, there's always a blood sacrifice involved.
Clarity's a cruel curse, indeed.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
The stepping stone
I always wanted to write a novel.
A novel, be it something heavily action oriented, a horror carnival, or romantic mush spun and woven into the fabric of literature. Comedy is not an exception though - although I need to write up more clever jibes and metaphors to at least provoke a smile or a chuckle from a reader.
I am not short of ideas either.
I have this little story about how a man/boy who finds himself trapped in an international conspiracy of corporate assassins, and intends to be one. I want to make this a series, somewhere along the lines of Pendragon, the Harry Potter series, stuff like that.
Also, I have thought up a few lines of horror stories telling how a boy kept talking to himself in a bathroom mirror in his house, conjuring up alternate, completely different version of himself; a more richer, handsomer, much more positive person. Something about escaping reality by talking to an apparition but later, the boy would find out that there would be more to that apparition that he considered a confidant all this while. I'll try to make it scary as possible (meaning more research on ghost stories and probably even more ghost/slasher/horror films. sigh.)
Also probably romance stories, minus the romantic aspect. I had, as mentioned a few times here, written quite a bit of love letters for 3 months every day towards an ex of mine. I reread a few of them recently. Was disgusted that she get to read all this but then I realized little by little, I do have the capacity to turn sentences and words into one big flowery mush of emotions and feelings. And the rather stupid dedication of a man towards a woman he did not understand well enough.
Good ideas? I don't know. But..
A well known fact is that I have not yet seen or heard a Malaysian English fiction, or non fiction novel being an ultimate bestseller, or at least having a popular following, or even, having a strong readership base. There are so many talented Malaysians I know, personally, who can write so well. Their writing talents are merely confined to the walls of journalism and mass media in this country because of course; as said in an age old saying of parents here: Writing doesn't put food on the table.
But doing what you love most; isn't that what everyone wants to be able to do? But alas, this country is so much unlike the bestseller Western nations; putting food on a table here is getting harder for the common youth.
Railed off again as usual, I see.
I have procrastinated heavily, and for a few months, on my novel. Or any writing for that matter, In fact, I took 4 weeks just to think of writing a post here.
But this ends abruptly today; I am going to start writing and hopefully, a masterpiece that is worthy to even one reader's eyes, and salt to the reader's mind.
I shall be off to begin the furious typing of the keyboard, brimming with ideas. I'll post excerpts here; although I am rather confident that little would view it, much less plagiarize it.
See you, readers.
A novel, be it something heavily action oriented, a horror carnival, or romantic mush spun and woven into the fabric of literature. Comedy is not an exception though - although I need to write up more clever jibes and metaphors to at least provoke a smile or a chuckle from a reader.
I am not short of ideas either.
I have this little story about how a man/boy who finds himself trapped in an international conspiracy of corporate assassins, and intends to be one. I want to make this a series, somewhere along the lines of Pendragon, the Harry Potter series, stuff like that.
Also, I have thought up a few lines of horror stories telling how a boy kept talking to himself in a bathroom mirror in his house, conjuring up alternate, completely different version of himself; a more richer, handsomer, much more positive person. Something about escaping reality by talking to an apparition but later, the boy would find out that there would be more to that apparition that he considered a confidant all this while. I'll try to make it scary as possible (meaning more research on ghost stories and probably even more ghost/slasher/horror films. sigh.)
Also probably romance stories, minus the romantic aspect. I had, as mentioned a few times here, written quite a bit of love letters for 3 months every day towards an ex of mine. I reread a few of them recently. Was disgusted that she get to read all this but then I realized little by little, I do have the capacity to turn sentences and words into one big flowery mush of emotions and feelings. And the rather stupid dedication of a man towards a woman he did not understand well enough.
Good ideas? I don't know. But..
A well known fact is that I have not yet seen or heard a Malaysian English fiction, or non fiction novel being an ultimate bestseller, or at least having a popular following, or even, having a strong readership base. There are so many talented Malaysians I know, personally, who can write so well. Their writing talents are merely confined to the walls of journalism and mass media in this country because of course; as said in an age old saying of parents here: Writing doesn't put food on the table.
But doing what you love most; isn't that what everyone wants to be able to do? But alas, this country is so much unlike the bestseller Western nations; putting food on a table here is getting harder for the common youth.
Railed off again as usual, I see.
I have procrastinated heavily, and for a few months, on my novel. Or any writing for that matter, In fact, I took 4 weeks just to think of writing a post here.
But this ends abruptly today; I am going to start writing and hopefully, a masterpiece that is worthy to even one reader's eyes, and salt to the reader's mind.
I shall be off to begin the furious typing of the keyboard, brimming with ideas. I'll post excerpts here; although I am rather confident that little would view it, much less plagiarize it.
See you, readers.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Debilitating Debates with Dan (1)
Personally, I do not like debates.It is still a baffling moment to me even now as to how I acquired this dysfunctional title.
But in any case let's move on to the matter at hand.
Lies.
As I would think, lying is basically the telling of a story. A fiction. Something that did not really happen or did not exist. That means Miss Rowling is a hell of a great liar. And so is Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, or even the Malaysian national laureate, A. Samad Said.
That would be the fool's definition of lying. As I am a dreadful fool by myself, I am just following the dictation of Macbeth, my the greatest English liar (or poet/storyteller/linguist) of all time, where he said something about being a foolish actor dancing out to his lines on stage, and something to do with a candle and.. something else.
Alright I will be serious this time.
Lying, as per defined by a reliable internet dictionary of mine (Merriam Webster, thanks!), is a verb that is to create something false or with a misleading impression. More like the wordy version of cheat, where you spin lies and falsehood to swindle something out of a fool. You lie, you cheat. You cheat, and you lie. Those two verbs go hand in hand together, don't they?
I would be very blunt and say that lying, is done by everyone these days. No one is free from the damnation that is spinning a yarn or weaving a simple sentence to deceive a person.
As kids I am pretty certain that many of my readers would've lied or two to their parents for a) extra sweets or candy, or b) extra game time or time with friends.
And even now we spin tales worthy of the greater laureates of our time, just to get out of something that we are unwilling to do.
But what about hiding the truth, you ask?
I would say that's somewhat lying as well, because you are creating falsehood - a blunt quotation from the definition - to others. For example, you don't want to hurt your vegetarian girlfriend by telling her you are a closet meat guzzling carnivore that loves red meat as much as a pregnant lioness. You are creating the illusion of an animal loving hippie to impress your equally hippie girlfriend. How's that for a story?
What about a little white lie?
When is a lie little, and white? I would ask you back. There is no lie too little or too big. But frankly though, why did the "white" adjective even sprung up in that phrase at all? I would Google it (or search for its meaning on the internet you puritan linguists) but I'd rather dictate its meaning in my own fashion. White is colour that defines the purity of an object. Lying in my opinion, is the most impure, a sin and certainly does not fit anywhere near the requirement of needing an adjective to define its goodness. Or unless, since white, if shone through a crystal prism, would be split into seven different colours. Moment of realization; a lie is often seen in the SEVEN different sins e.g Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Envy, Pride, Wrath. The Seven Deadly Sins as it is called, surely has a hint or two lies within them is it not? (I am still agape with my realization as I was writing this mind)
Also, there are many would question the lawful lie, which is the "lying for good" kind of lie.
My gentle readers, if it is not the truth, it is never good. Lying is never something that you can be doing for the good of anyone. It can put the liar, and the one who is being defended by the lie, is such peril. You can take Anne Frank for example. For the readers that do not know about who Anne Frank is, Wikipedia it. Or you can read a condensed retelling here by me.
Anne Frank was this famous Jewish girl who wrote in a journal detailing about her life in hiding from the German Nazis that were ruling Germany at the time. Anne, and her family were Jews and if you all haven't heard already, Hitler has as much love for Jews as much I would have love for the durian. He really, hates them. And me, durian. Regardless, they were living in the attic of a sympathizer's house that had to answer "no" to all German raids of Jews to protect Anne's family. But there is so much that only one family could hide with lies alone; they were found out one day and no, not all of them died. Anne's father, Otto Frank, survived but really, if you want to know what really happened, read her diary.
The gist here is that if you lie for the sake of saving/protecting another person, you are endangering yourself. No one gains, and the fear of being discovered is always there. Not a good way to live, to be frank.
And if any psychiatrist or church priest haven't told you already, lying could really damage you mentally. Especially if the lie is being inflated all the time. The longer a lie gets. the fear of the said liar would increase exponentially. The fear of always being found out, being revealed to the world of what really is, the horrifying truth, is always there.
That fear will lead to a severe drop of social interaction of a person, and would often turn anyone to a introvert that seeks the comfort of solitude. Because being alone, no one would ask why or what or whom or when and how. It is easier that way. And this fear, could also lead to suicide, if unchecked. Lying fear, could bring about a sense of overwhelming guilt that is deemed unsolvable by a liar, because he/she would never want to break the lie open and to tell the truth. The guilt would bring about severe depression, a debilitation in social skills and lastly, the taking of your own life.
Another mental effect of lying I would add is that, most liars would believe their own lies. Those are pathological liars i.e, ones that literally tell lies to live. I have not much to divulge on this because I have never personally seen an actual person that believes his own version of the truth, although we do see it everywhere these days - the political scene of the country - but that's another story.
So.. ladies and gents. Tell the truth more often now would you? Or at least try to keep the ratio of your lies against truths a little lower next time i.e more truths than lies.
But in any case let's move on to the matter at hand.
Lies.
As I would think, lying is basically the telling of a story. A fiction. Something that did not really happen or did not exist. That means Miss Rowling is a hell of a great liar. And so is Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, or even the Malaysian national laureate, A. Samad Said.
That would be the fool's definition of lying. As I am a dreadful fool by myself, I am just following the dictation of Macbeth, my the greatest English liar (or poet/storyteller/linguist) of all time, where he said something about being a foolish actor dancing out to his lines on stage, and something to do with a candle and.. something else.
Alright I will be serious this time.
Lying, as per defined by a reliable internet dictionary of mine (Merriam Webster, thanks!), is a verb that is to create something false or with a misleading impression. More like the wordy version of cheat, where you spin lies and falsehood to swindle something out of a fool. You lie, you cheat. You cheat, and you lie. Those two verbs go hand in hand together, don't they?
I would be very blunt and say that lying, is done by everyone these days. No one is free from the damnation that is spinning a yarn or weaving a simple sentence to deceive a person.
As kids I am pretty certain that many of my readers would've lied or two to their parents for a) extra sweets or candy, or b) extra game time or time with friends.
And even now we spin tales worthy of the greater laureates of our time, just to get out of something that we are unwilling to do.
But what about hiding the truth, you ask?
I would say that's somewhat lying as well, because you are creating falsehood - a blunt quotation from the definition - to others. For example, you don't want to hurt your vegetarian girlfriend by telling her you are a closet meat guzzling carnivore that loves red meat as much as a pregnant lioness. You are creating the illusion of an animal loving hippie to impress your equally hippie girlfriend. How's that for a story?
What about a little white lie?
When is a lie little, and white? I would ask you back. There is no lie too little or too big. But frankly though, why did the "white" adjective even sprung up in that phrase at all? I would Google it (or search for its meaning on the internet you puritan linguists) but I'd rather dictate its meaning in my own fashion. White is colour that defines the purity of an object. Lying in my opinion, is the most impure, a sin and certainly does not fit anywhere near the requirement of needing an adjective to define its goodness. Or unless, since white, if shone through a crystal prism, would be split into seven different colours. Moment of realization; a lie is often seen in the SEVEN different sins e.g Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Envy, Pride, Wrath. The Seven Deadly Sins as it is called, surely has a hint or two lies within them is it not? (I am still agape with my realization as I was writing this mind)
Also, there are many would question the lawful lie, which is the "lying for good" kind of lie.
My gentle readers, if it is not the truth, it is never good. Lying is never something that you can be doing for the good of anyone. It can put the liar, and the one who is being defended by the lie, is such peril. You can take Anne Frank for example. For the readers that do not know about who Anne Frank is, Wikipedia it. Or you can read a condensed retelling here by me.
Anne Frank was this famous Jewish girl who wrote in a journal detailing about her life in hiding from the German Nazis that were ruling Germany at the time. Anne, and her family were Jews and if you all haven't heard already, Hitler has as much love for Jews as much I would have love for the durian. He really, hates them. And me, durian. Regardless, they were living in the attic of a sympathizer's house that had to answer "no" to all German raids of Jews to protect Anne's family. But there is so much that only one family could hide with lies alone; they were found out one day and no, not all of them died. Anne's father, Otto Frank, survived but really, if you want to know what really happened, read her diary.
The gist here is that if you lie for the sake of saving/protecting another person, you are endangering yourself. No one gains, and the fear of being discovered is always there. Not a good way to live, to be frank.
And if any psychiatrist or church priest haven't told you already, lying could really damage you mentally. Especially if the lie is being inflated all the time. The longer a lie gets. the fear of the said liar would increase exponentially. The fear of always being found out, being revealed to the world of what really is, the horrifying truth, is always there.
That fear will lead to a severe drop of social interaction of a person, and would often turn anyone to a introvert that seeks the comfort of solitude. Because being alone, no one would ask why or what or whom or when and how. It is easier that way. And this fear, could also lead to suicide, if unchecked. Lying fear, could bring about a sense of overwhelming guilt that is deemed unsolvable by a liar, because he/she would never want to break the lie open and to tell the truth. The guilt would bring about severe depression, a debilitation in social skills and lastly, the taking of your own life.
Another mental effect of lying I would add is that, most liars would believe their own lies. Those are pathological liars i.e, ones that literally tell lies to live. I have not much to divulge on this because I have never personally seen an actual person that believes his own version of the truth, although we do see it everywhere these days - the political scene of the country - but that's another story.
So.. ladies and gents. Tell the truth more often now would you? Or at least try to keep the ratio of your lies against truths a little lower next time i.e more truths than lies.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sorry I wasn't there (scripted from the initial email)
I want to start this off by pleading an apology from you.
Again, I got your hopes up and at the same time I killed it by not being there and not answering your messages and remarks on facebook.
Only when I got back, to see my phone with my message, my Skype orange with your messages and the facebook and your wall posts.. the feeling that I got, is unlike any feeling I have had ever.
Unlike the usual mix of regret and guilt with a little sprinkle of self resentment thrown in, what I did to you today cuts deep, slices cleanly through the very vestiges of my inner conscience. The guilt, amplified by a thousandfold. The regret, multiplied. Both of them combined, feeds the self misery that I am developing at the moment and at the same time carving today's misdeed of mine into the very folds of my cerebral complex of the human body; the brain. And it is replayed. Over and over again.
This is probably what Hell feels like; not only it brings pain to the physical being for eternity, the soul as well feels it as well. I am feeling the soul aspect and by far, I agree it is more scarring than its physical counterpart.
Trust me girl, all I want to do in this life, is to make my loved ones happy. Disappointing them somehow wreaks a havoc akin to a storm, a tempest of an unnatural kind deep inside my heart as my emotions and the sin that I have committed hand in hand tumbles back and forth.
Never in my life, never in this 23 year span of me walking this earth, I wanted to do this to anyone. What makes everything worse is that, I have done it to you. The guilt once again, tears me from limb to limb, and shuffles my organs and skin back together, so it can tear it again and again. An endless cycle.
And when I called you, I heard the clear disappointment in your voice. And you're unable to speak properly I can tell. But what killed me was, that you wouldn't want to come online. But somehow, it is a fitting punishment for someone that literally threw the plane at you (look for Cantonese reference lol).
Believe me girl, I never want to go back on you that way.
But I did regardless.
And I am sorry.
And I didn't change anything in facebook. Really. But I did see some notable changes.. I am learning a new Pokemon skill i.e: Body Slam.
The only thing I did thus far is just wall posts, nothing more. To undo your changes it is like, will take forever and it is a very distasteful act on my part because if I did change it, it means that I am a prissy, stuck up, unopened can of conservativeness served with a side of selfishness together with some ignorance sauce.
Again, I got your hopes up and at the same time I killed it by not being there and not answering your messages and remarks on facebook.
Only when I got back, to see my phone with my message, my Skype orange with your messages and the facebook and your wall posts.. the feeling that I got, is unlike any feeling I have had ever.
Unlike the usual mix of regret and guilt with a little sprinkle of self resentment thrown in, what I did to you today cuts deep, slices cleanly through the very vestiges of my inner conscience. The guilt, amplified by a thousandfold. The regret, multiplied. Both of them combined, feeds the self misery that I am developing at the moment and at the same time carving today's misdeed of mine into the very folds of my cerebral complex of the human body; the brain. And it is replayed. Over and over again.
This is probably what Hell feels like; not only it brings pain to the physical being for eternity, the soul as well feels it as well. I am feeling the soul aspect and by far, I agree it is more scarring than its physical counterpart.
Trust me girl, all I want to do in this life, is to make my loved ones happy. Disappointing them somehow wreaks a havoc akin to a storm, a tempest of an unnatural kind deep inside my heart as my emotions and the sin that I have committed hand in hand tumbles back and forth.
Never in my life, never in this 23 year span of me walking this earth, I wanted to do this to anyone. What makes everything worse is that, I have done it to you. The guilt once again, tears me from limb to limb, and shuffles my organs and skin back together, so it can tear it again and again. An endless cycle.
And when I called you, I heard the clear disappointment in your voice. And you're unable to speak properly I can tell. But what killed me was, that you wouldn't want to come online. But somehow, it is a fitting punishment for someone that literally threw the plane at you (look for Cantonese reference lol).
Believe me girl, I never want to go back on you that way.
But I did regardless.
And I am sorry.
And I didn't change anything in facebook. Really. But I did see some notable changes.. I am learning a new Pokemon skill i.e: Body Slam.
The only thing I did thus far is just wall posts, nothing more. To undo your changes it is like, will take forever and it is a very distasteful act on my part because if I did change it, it means that I am a prissy, stuck up, unopened can of conservativeness served with a side of selfishness together with some ignorance sauce.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Asian parenting, from my view.
When I thought alot of people are against with me and Natasha, I thought it was something that I would just dust off my shoulders. I couldn't care less what people think, lest they are the ones influencing my life directly.
However, my mindset changed, when the very people that raised you up with the so called ASIAN values are actually against with me having someone. Yes, they are my parents.
Instead of being happy that their son found a girl (albeit proving he's not gay), they are the first ones to light the match and sharpen the saws to cut, burn, mutilate the sanctity of this beautiful relationship of mine.
I love my parents. They love me too. They raised me to be the guy that I am today.
But in all those years they raised me, I fear, they have failed to understand me.
They have yet to understand, that words are a powerful trigger of emotions, so powerful that it will leave wounds on the receiving end.
Anger drives people to say things. But do we really believe when they say, "I don't mean it?". And they just shake their heads and put on a seemingly fake attitude and forgetting the entire episode.
I take words, from people very seriously. So serious, that I will remember the most hurtful ones that have been uttered, although in a rage.
I am no stranger when it comes to getting on the wrong end of a scolding from my parents, especially my mother notably. I love my mother, there is no doubt. But when she gets angry, the things that follow thanks to the surge of emotions is enough to scar my thoughts and wound me greatly, so great to even drive me to feel emotionless of future events.
And all of a sudden, my mom will act as if is nothing has happened whatsoever. And I will be left confused by the sudden change of emotions, and will proceed to her requests.
As for my dad, he is a great man, someone I look up to, a role model. He scolds with precision, no threatening words, and he will definitely remember it when he scolds. Just like the soldier he was. Unlike the words that my mom throws around when she scolds, my dad does it with efficiency. I will actually take them to heart.
But what could even drive a parent to such depths, to the point where they accuse the girl that their son is consorting with, is somewhat of a slut, and what is she doing controlling him to the point I must see her every time?
What they don't know, is that I NEVER SEEN HER physically for a while, and I miss her. And secondly, they think, that me bringing her to the house, in the dark of the night, something has happened.
To all ears but mine, my parents thought I was literally making babies with her.
Of course I could hardly blame them, thanks to me returning in the night and with her, alone, in a big house. But calling her a slut, it was something that I could not take.
I was nearly close to yelling at them to literally shut the fuck up. But respect, and common sense followed.
What my parents failed to comprehend is that, I am not that kind of a guy. I don't seek sexual favours from a girl I just met. I just wanted to comfort her, and it was raining when I took her home.
If you guys, can't take it when I have a girlfriend, say it to me loud, say it proud. But do not expect me to leave her. Never. I will show to you guys one day in the future, that she is a daughter in law worth the wait and trouble that I have gone through, and she is, and will be forever my little Natasha.
However, my mindset changed, when the very people that raised you up with the so called ASIAN values are actually against with me having someone. Yes, they are my parents.
Instead of being happy that their son found a girl (albeit proving he's not gay), they are the first ones to light the match and sharpen the saws to cut, burn, mutilate the sanctity of this beautiful relationship of mine.
I love my parents. They love me too. They raised me to be the guy that I am today.
But in all those years they raised me, I fear, they have failed to understand me.
They have yet to understand, that words are a powerful trigger of emotions, so powerful that it will leave wounds on the receiving end.
Anger drives people to say things. But do we really believe when they say, "I don't mean it?". And they just shake their heads and put on a seemingly fake attitude and forgetting the entire episode.
I take words, from people very seriously. So serious, that I will remember the most hurtful ones that have been uttered, although in a rage.
I am no stranger when it comes to getting on the wrong end of a scolding from my parents, especially my mother notably. I love my mother, there is no doubt. But when she gets angry, the things that follow thanks to the surge of emotions is enough to scar my thoughts and wound me greatly, so great to even drive me to feel emotionless of future events.
And all of a sudden, my mom will act as if is nothing has happened whatsoever. And I will be left confused by the sudden change of emotions, and will proceed to her requests.
As for my dad, he is a great man, someone I look up to, a role model. He scolds with precision, no threatening words, and he will definitely remember it when he scolds. Just like the soldier he was. Unlike the words that my mom throws around when she scolds, my dad does it with efficiency. I will actually take them to heart.
But what could even drive a parent to such depths, to the point where they accuse the girl that their son is consorting with, is somewhat of a slut, and what is she doing controlling him to the point I must see her every time?
What they don't know, is that I NEVER SEEN HER physically for a while, and I miss her. And secondly, they think, that me bringing her to the house, in the dark of the night, something has happened.
To all ears but mine, my parents thought I was literally making babies with her.
Of course I could hardly blame them, thanks to me returning in the night and with her, alone, in a big house. But calling her a slut, it was something that I could not take.
I was nearly close to yelling at them to literally shut the fuck up. But respect, and common sense followed.
What my parents failed to comprehend is that, I am not that kind of a guy. I don't seek sexual favours from a girl I just met. I just wanted to comfort her, and it was raining when I took her home.
If you guys, can't take it when I have a girlfriend, say it to me loud, say it proud. But do not expect me to leave her. Never. I will show to you guys one day in the future, that she is a daughter in law worth the wait and trouble that I have gone through, and she is, and will be forever my little Natasha.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
staying off the grid.
You know, I have decided a few things about writing style:
1. Its somewhat SPM-ish when I compare it to many others.
2. Too much difficult words in an entire sentence.
3. When I intend my post to be funny, it is; hilariously unfunny.
4. It is either too short or too long.
5. And MOST of the time it is depressing.
I haven't had any readers complaining to me about those things just yet. I don't know why exactly. Maybe they're just being nice and all.
And about me staying off the communications grid.
Actually I never did stayed off the grid. I just decided that I should stay off Facebook for a while.
And I went to my usual internet chores:
1. Searching hilarious photos.
2. Watching and downloading funny videos.
3. Reading articles from Gawker, Cracked, io9, etc
4. Occasional music downloading and discovery
It was more of a hiatus from talking to people for a while.
1. Its somewhat SPM-ish when I compare it to many others.
2. Too much difficult words in an entire sentence.
3. When I intend my post to be funny, it is; hilariously unfunny.
4. It is either too short or too long.
5. And MOST of the time it is depressing.
I haven't had any readers complaining to me about those things just yet. I don't know why exactly. Maybe they're just being nice and all.
And about me staying off the communications grid.
Actually I never did stayed off the grid. I just decided that I should stay off Facebook for a while.
And I went to my usual internet chores:
1. Searching hilarious photos.
2. Watching and downloading funny videos.
3. Reading articles from Gawker, Cracked, io9, etc
4. Occasional music downloading and discovery
It was more of a hiatus from talking to people for a while.
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