Day 33: Those Days, Those Weeks

There are good weeks. Weeks where you will be motivated and inspired to sit at your ever-so-quick-to overheat laptop and study and write and the words will flow endlessly as though you're a dictionary or a thesaurus.

But you're not.

There are good weeks. Weeks where jogging in the morning and running against the lowering of the sun drives you out of bed in the morning and your toes are jumpy and you are so incredibly healthy because every fibre in your body is screaming with positivity as though you're a proton.

But you're not.

Because, there are bad weeks. Weeks where the words just won't flow and glaringly white word documents stare back at you for hours and you're not even motivated to write in your journal and words just won't write and every day that piles onto each other agitates the growing irritation inside you.

There are bad weeks. Weeks where the morning feels like night and you have to drag yourself out of bed because your body feels like lead and you constantly feel as though the Sandman is constantly pouring sand into your eyes and everything feels so sluggish and you force yourself to smile because you don't want people to be worried.

There are bad weeks. Weeks where you just want to lock your bedroom door, cover your head with your bedsheets and just cry into the mattress because you're so fucking sensitive to every emotion and any little thing people say can make you so fucking depressed that you wonder if you're slipping back into that abyss.

But you're not.

There are just bad weeks and good weeks. And after the bad weeks, good weeks follow. You just have to trudge through and remember all the good weeks.

Writer's block

I'm nearing the end of the A to Z challenge and I've suddenly been hit with writer's block..... Things are not looking good.

Hostage

We were being held hostage by a psychotic terrorist.
It didn't even have to be us. We held no political value. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was my parents' 20th anniversary. They had booked the entire Sydney tower buffet restaurant to accommodate all our family and friends. We sat shivering in our seats as he walked up and down rows of tables, bellowing his hatred for the legal system, the government.

It was only one man. It was only one man causing utter fear in a group of three hundred people. I flicked my eyes over at my shaking grandparents on the opposite table. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that such elderly people had to be put under such emotional distress. Slowly, I raise my right hand, praying to God, any God up in heaven that it wouldn't get blasted right off my wrist, 'Excuse me, Sir....' His head spun at the sound of my voice, his flickering eyes watched my lips, he pointed his machine gun at me, 'What? Speak loud and clear; don't shout or you'll hurt my ears and I'll be forced to shoot your tongue off.'

I held your hand, underneath the dining table for support and raised my voice, hoping it wouldn't waiver, 'Please sir, is it possible to let the elderly go?' I was surprised when he let his hand drop and grinned broadly. He raised his free hand and patted my head. I bit down my tongue to stop myself from trembling at his touch. I watched as he stepped away from me then pointed at my proudly, as though a teacher proud of his student, 'Now this, everyone is an example of a good upstanding citizen. They pay their taxes on time, they help elderly people walk across the road' Suddenly, he was no longer smiling, he thrust his gun down my throat. I blinked back tears and shook my head ferociously as you stood up in protest. He pointed the gun at your heart, 'Sit the fuck down, lover boy!'

He cleared his throat and continued to point the gun at me, 'This' he continued, 'Is an example of an idiot who does everything because it is "right". They blindly follow the laws of the corrupted government without questioning their actions. Does that sound right to you?' We all shook our heads. He raised his voice even louder, 'What is also not right is the fact that you spent thousands of dollars to eat in a "classy" restaurant just because it is high up in the air while out there are millions of people suffering from poverty and injustice!' He pulled out a beeping remote from his jacket and smiled sadly, 'Sorry folks, I'm burning this whole tower to the ground with everyone in it. The government needs to understand it is wasting money on such pointless expenses.'

I cried into your shoulder as you held me tightly. I could feel the hatred, anger and fear in the heat of your arms. Everyone around us also finally broke down. What little hope we had of surviving this ordeal was finally thrown out the window of this revolving restaurant. We were being held hostage by a psychotic terrorist.  And he had no plans of letting anyone live. We were always meant to die.

Losing battle

I said that you shouldn't get used to disappointment;
But I've lost count how many times things didn't go our way.
I try to find the positives in these storm clouds but,
It's so hard to fight for a future that is so hard to see.
And that's what breaks my heart the most.
Because I really wanted this to work,
But we're only going to deteriorate.
And we'll hurt more than we do now.
I'm sorry.

Guilty

We can't win.
Everything we say is being laughed at.
They're secretly crows or kookaburras in disguise.
And we fell right into their traps. Hook line and sinker.
We're mannequins out on display but this is not beautiful in anyway.
It is ugly, humiliating and frightening.
Their faces says it all.
We're being accused of a crime we never committed and there is no trial.
No jury to listen to our pleas.
No neutral judge to decide wisely.
Nothing.
We're guilty of a crime we would never commit.
And no one is listening.

Thank you very very much.

I'm taking a minute from my blogging famine to thank the weirdos from China (I have nothing against China) that kept on friend requesting me on my email. Apparently, my email was being passed around?? The point is, it got so annoying and risky that I had to abandon it. So now all blog post requests or emails shall be now directed to my new email that is shown on the left side of the blog.

Thank you email Stalkers. Now I have to spend the rest of the night adding all my friends and resubscribing to all my favourite sites. I hope you're pleased with yourselves. And I hope you fall off a cliff too.

Thank you Oxford Dictionary, my fear is not worthy to be an official word

 Note: I'm sorry if the gap between lines appear too wide. Blogger went weird on me.

Oxford dictionary was always my favourite brand to buy when I go dictionary hunting until now. For as long as I could remember, every time I see clusters of holes or cracks, my heart rate would increase, chills would run down my spine and I start panicking.I thought that I was weird and the fear was just a passing thing, maybe it wasn't even real fear but all in my head. So I never really told anyone about it because there was no way for me to explain it. Only my brother knows about it and he thinks I'm weird. It doesn't even make sense. What's so scary about holes??

I don't know.Yet, just thinking about them creep me out. There's no other way to explain it. And today, I finally have a name to it. I've never heard of it before as it's not really a well known fear but it's real. It's real as me. 

Trypophobia: The irrational fear of clusters of holes, pods, circles, cracks, cuts and or other asymmetrical shapes e.g cracks in glass, beehive, lotus seed pods.

However, leafing through my dictionaries and browsing through search engines, I've discovered that its not a really well known word. To the extent that Oxford's reply to one persistent Trypophobic's request to include the word in the dictionary was "Several phobia-words are suggested to us for addition to the dictionary, but few achieve the widespread and sustained use that we look for in any candidate word.  I shall certainly note your suggestion in our files, but cannot promise that it will result in an entry." I had always kept the sole belief that if the word is real it's in the dictionary but apparently that's not how it works. It's not even on Wikipedia!!!
It's ok Oxford Dictionary, it's not like I freak out when I see clusters of holes or anything alike.
It's all in my head.

A Week Off Blogger (at least)

Every morning, as soon as I wake up I turn on my computer and click on Blogger. Sooo not a good habit right now. University is deciding to be a dog and load me with assignments in a never ending cycle. As soon as I finish one essay I get another. . .Last time I checked, I'm not an android.

Blogging and writing is a really big distraction right now. So sadly, I will be taking a break for at LEAST a week. It might become more. . . God, how will I survive without my precious blog???

So in order to entertain my beloved Lovesick Fools, I am requesting GUEST BLOGGERS !!!!!!
The theme for the posts are love, life lessons, change and and anything inspirational. It doesn't even have to be a story. If interested, my email is on the right side bar. So jealous of you guys right now. . .


ENJOY !! LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR EMAILS ^^

Happy Ending???

So now that I am finally free and happy,  my friend Nick asked me if that meant that I'll no longer be writing tragic stories. He made me realise something. . .When was the last time I wrote a happy ending???
I am seriously hindered but this. But my writer's pride will not lose easily. I'll write a happy ending. . .eventually.

The problem with happy endings is that there are too many of those out there that its become sadly cliche. I don't want that. I always want my writing to stand out of the crowd and strike strong emotions into the readers. Such emotions that would leave them breathless. I'm still working on that reaction but I think that I'm making progress.
For now, I need inspiration. Something amazingly good, something that will make readers so happy that they'll cry. Something uniquely me.

Busy Bee and Guest bloggers

University is really different to high school. Even their essays are different. My literacture lecturer told me that high school essays are contextually different. Great, high school you have doomed me.

Anywho, I know that I owe my lovesick fools part 2 of the story but I am up to my crown in assessments. So instead, I have opted to request guest bloggers. So anyone who is interested in guest posting please email me.
My email is shown at the bottom of the page.

With context, you're welcome to write anything as long as its related to the theme of my blog which is romance/love or life in general.


Looking forward to your posts ^^

3 years' Unknowing- The Beginning

Someone once told me that I should make my life into a story. Apparently, it would be interesting
or heart-throbbing. I still wonder about the enthusiasm people would have about my life so I opted instead to write about my love life since after all I specialise  in romantic literature. There is something else too that is precious about this story: it contains the past three years with and without my unknowing guitarist. This account is my last farewell to him in which I finally reveal his name.
This post will be quite long so I am dividing it into 3 inidividual posts. Sorry for the inconvience.

--------------------------

    3 year's Unknowing

The Beginning

I lean against the tiles which send shivers down my bare back. The dress, is it too revealing? I wonder if I should have worn something simpler? I wonder if I should have chosen a different meeting place. What if someone recognises us? Maybe, he won't come in the first place. This after all, is merely my own outrageous request. I caress the digital camera in my handbag and question the possibility of a photo. A selfish keepsake for when years later, I no longer will be able to visualise the twinkle of his eyes. Even so, I will remember always the three years I had with and without him.


I glanced down at the blue ballpoint pen I held in my hand with shock. Had I just gone with the flow and told a complete stranger my email address? I analysed the gleaming pen lid in my other hand and confirmed that stationery supplies don't drag themselves from my shoulder-bag and squeeze themselves into my palm. I slumped down from my standing position and gave out a long sigh: Why must I always be such an easy person? I should learn to say no. Why can't people let me finish Vietnamese school without any difficulties or allow me to wait for my brother in the opposite classroom in peace? Is it so much to ask for?

Every Sunday, I am dragged out of bed and to Vietnamese school thanks to my beloved mother. The following Sunday after the suprising incident, two boys showed up at my classroom during lunchbreak. My good friend Duy Li happened to know them by the names of Anthony and Victor. Anthony, was the name of my 'complete stanger' and it came to be a name I would fear for a long time.

To say the most, I began to dread every lunch-time for lunch brought Anthony. He was a peculiar young man. Peculiar being an understatement. He was always sitting too close or asked uncomfortable questions. I being such a pushover didn't know how to respond. But with Anthony, there was always Victor. And he was my little sparkle of light amongst the darkness.

Victor and I turned out to be very compatible. We were both book lovers but of very different genres. He:Historical fiction and I: Romance. In Victor, I found my writing companion who understood the difficulties of writer's block and the constant scrapping of stories that not even my bestfriends understood. Soon, my every thought began with Victor and ended with him. But, all I could do was keep it bottled inside. When I saw myself in the mirror, I was someone not worthy of him. I was always cruely reminded by people around me that I was short for my age. Everywhere I went, whispering giggles trailed my back or random girls would collide into me screaming: OMG she's so CUTE. SO TINY. SO ADORABLE. And they would disappear like it was normal to hug strangers forgetting the issue of personal space. Because of years being insulted in such a way, I began to loathe the word "Cute" whenever it was associated with me. Never, ever I want to be called 'cute'.

Victor and I continued to grow closer with thanks to the internet. Soon it became a routine for me to talk to him for at least more than 2 hours or until we both struggled to keep our eyes open. We shared family stories and when came a time for me to test my loyalty to my Step-Dad, Victor was there through the nights I was bawling my eyes. My biological father whom I haven't spoken to for more than 10yrs invited me to the wedding of my older sister to which I never knew I had. He helped with the decision that I shouldn't abandon my past and that my current father would understand. And I with that decision, I attended the most awkward wedding of my life.

Around the middle of the year, Anthony began to regualrly ask me out on dates to various places: The Arts Museum, cinema, dinasaur museum, amusement parks and so on. To which I politely declined. During one lunchtime, it was announced quite loudly by a classmate that Anthony liked me. I looked at her with an expression which could only be described as shock and turned to Victor for help. He merely shrugged: What can I do?

Near late November was my year 10 Graduation in which I completed my school certificate and became eligible to continue to grade 11 and 12. For the ceremony, I decided to change my curly hairstyle to become permanently straight. The next Sunday, I skipped along the pond that was adored by my Vietnamese school and arrived infront of Victor with my new long hair floating after me. I smiled at him questioningly: So What do you think? He glanced up at me from his book and gave me his twinkling eyes: Cute. My heart stopped. That day, I walked away with his gentle and sincere voice still lingering in my ears. Cute. Inside my heart, something bloomed.


'Am I late?'
I blink away the memories and beam at him: No, strangely you're not.
He let out a chuckle and we entered the cinema. Maybe, this wasn't a mistake after all.

(To be continued)

I really HATE MYSELF right now

I smashed my Mum's car against a tree.

Well the side near the left door anyway which thank God is not where the driver's seat is.

I still hate myself very much. I just got my licence last month and now I made a dent on the car.
Now my parents have to pay for damages and we're low on money because Dad was made redundant because his company was full and decided to fire employees and random.

I really really hate myself right now.

Stalking My Stalker lol (HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR & VALENTINES DAY)

Last Night: Chinese New Year's Eve

So last night was Chinese New Year's Eve. Like every year, I spend that night visiting the Wetherill Park Monastery. This year, I spending  with my cousin. So anyways, my cousin John wanted to come to try some of the popular Vegetarian spring rolls. These springrolls were special. They were HUGE.
So when we came out of the cafeteria, I saw someone that I wasn't hoping to meet (but had the feeling we will).

Alright, I think it would make a lot more sense if I tell you who this person is. For the last 3 years, I have spent every Sunday attending Vietnamese classes that were held at the very same Monastery. In my first year, I had met a guy by the name of Anthony. Now that meeting, was a little bit shocking for me since I was a little confused. I was waiting for my younger brother to get out of his class when Anthony came over asking for my email. I was so bewildered by this sudden question and the stranger that I without thinking sealed my doom with "Yeah?"

So from then on every Sunday, Anthony and his friend (Unknowing Guitarist) came over to my class during our lunch break. While Anthony always made me feel uncomfortable, I was pleased by my Unknowing Guitarist's company. Anyway, I found out that everyone in the older classes knew that Anthony liked me. Talk about unwanted news.

Anyway, to make a long story short: For 3yrs, he asked me to dates like a hundred times and was too close for comfort. Then once tried to grab me on the pretense that I was shivering. . .

So end of flashback

So before entering the monastery last night, I told my cousin that if we bump into him, John will act as my boyfriend. John happily obliged because apparently, he has been meaning to meet Anthony for a while now. Obviously to settle some matters. So anyway, we bought some spring rolls (YUMM) and walked out of the cafeteria and to my right, I saw Anthony. Being polite, I gave him a small smile but can't help noticing that he was walking awfully slow into the cafeteria and from the corner of my eye, I saw him looking at us through the glass doors. . .So I told John.

John was upset that he couldn't see the face of my and I quote " Perverted rapist stalker". So my cousin John decided that we walk around the Monastery in hope of bumping into him again. But it started raining but luckily, we were prepared. Being the taller of the two of us John held the umbrella.
So we now really look like a couple.

But to John's dismay, we walked around 5 times and couldn't find Anthony. So John came to the conclusion that either Anthony went home or we were being stalked. Then on our 100th round the monastery, I had a strange feeling so looked behind us and to my horror, Anthony was staring at us. And then, when we were sitting down, he sat 2 rows behind us...

Luckily, my cousin was with me.

Mission: Stalk the stalker failed. We got stalked instead.

. . .

This week has been dragging its feet millimeter by millimeter.

Its only Wednesday but I have been feeling very lonely since Sunday.
My big house feels too big for me. My only company during day and night is my
maltese/chihuahua dog name Yuki. She is like my child. She follows me everywhere with her little feet and always wants me to cuddle her.
If she was my lover, I would never be lonely.

These slow depressing days are only adding to me sulking of having writer's block. I hate writer's block.
I write with my feelings at heart. I write with my longing pouring out with tears.

                However right now, all I feel is a . . .void.
 

                                                                                    Emptiness. . .

         Something is missing in my life. . .

Nightmare scare

Today, I had the most unpleasant nightmare so far in my life and that is saying something since my nightmare of being chased by a giant caterpillar was horrifying (scared of caterpillars).

Nightmare:

I can't remember who, but at the start of the dream, I was peeking at a woman slaughtering a pig. It kind of had a psychotic murderer feel to it so I thought hiding would be best because I don't want her to chase me. Later on, my friends and I are in the middle of a bushland and my younger brother disappeared.

Everyone panicked. So we all started searching for him, wondering if he got murdered/kidnapped or tripped and died. We found his dead body.    I don't really remember what happened after but then we started placing limbs together until there was a whole body but that doesn't make sense because the body was whole to start with. Then there was a voice in my head that said "But nobody realised that there was no head" (Talk about freaky). The thing was, somehow in the dream, everyone thought that he was killed by the pig killer mentioned above.

Next, I was at this local buddhist monastry that I regularly visit, with my friend Jenny who is also buddhist. For some reason, we were at the back and we saw pig limbs hanging (like in butchers) and we freaked. Then a nun told us that there was this other nun that was acting weird. That nun ate the pig. We suddenly realised that that nun was the pig killer and also the muderer of my brother!!!

Out of no where, we heard this psychotic laughter so we ran for our lives. Then there was this voice that  told me that I couldn't run on ground level or first floor or I would be punished by God. But then, the surroundings, didn't look like the monastry anymore but rather my high school. I ran upstairs, keeping in mind the words of warning but then I couldn't star upstairs so I ran down the other stairs and reached the outside (ground level).

I continued running, but my legs were getting weak (in reality: I also have a sort of weak body) and in the corner of my left eye, I could see a woman carrying a massive butcher knife.

I woke up.

When I woke up, I realised that I had this dream before but it wasn't as frightening the first time for some reason.
I just remembered this is the 2nd time that I dreamt my younger brother's death. . .


What does it all mean? I have a bad feeling about it.