"So, how're you going?" K asked. You called him K, because he refused to give his name. You never asked why.
"What do you think?" You spat back. You were not in a friendly mood. He should have left you alone.

You were thinking on joining your dad on his 'meetings' despite what your grandma's words. You figured it wasn't too late to change things. You thought you could change who you are, and who you're meant to be. Your brother had already joined a couple time, he has grown rebellious after his 'incident'. He seek every chance he get to make the guards suffer. He spat, threw his piss and other unthinkable stuff to guards he thinks deserved it, it was a miracle they haven't done anything more serious to him.

It was also the worst few days ever since you came there. The heat was strong, and there were no food left. The logistics somehow messed things up somewhere and for the past days the guards have been giving you scraps of their food. But for the last two days there was none. It seemed the guards themselves were at lost at what to do. Babies were wailing everywhere, your grandma and other elders were sick with dehydration and hunger. It wasn't just you, everyone was in their worst mood today.

Mrs. Green has a little girl. She was slight build and quite fragile. You know the girl has been sick ever since she came here. The girl was never strong, even before these all started. The little girl's been weaker and weaker ever since. She barely made any sound. Crying showed strength, but this girl only whimpers softly every now and then.

Needless to say, you avoided every chance you can to being alone with Marie. You can't run away from her in the nightmares though, they were always different but held the same message. She was screaming for help, and you turned your back and walked away. You think you're going to dream like this forever.

If Marie noticed you different, she didn't say anything. She seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, often lost. Often daydreaming, or were they nightmares like yours instead? She avoided drinking whenever possible, you supposed it was because she was too scared to go back in there except when absolutely necessary, and when she does go to the toilet she did it in rocket speed.

Before you can reconcile with your dreams of Marie, they've changed the game again. It seemed like months, but it has only been a few days since Marie's incident. There were rumors going on of rebellion coming up. There were men impatient about sitting and waiting for this condition to end. You know about it, but didn't join nor discuss it. Your father joined eventually and you warily look as he sometimes approach the other men and seemingly chatting casually. You know better though, because your father doesn't have that look when he chats casually. His face went tense and he would involuntarily raised his eyebrows every other second when he's nervous.

You were massaging your grandmother's leg when you saw your father and five other heads of families slowly approach each other. Seemingly without purpose, but definitely nearing towards one another. You stopped massaging and moved to follow but your grandma's hands gripped your wrists strongly. She pulled you in as she said,"I've gone through war before, did you know that?" I shook my head absently, still concentrating on my father.
"You, and me.. we are the same," suddenly grandma's voice grew stronger and you can't help but look at her. She was suddenly strong, and her eyes were bright.
"You and me, we are survivors. Do you know that? I know you as I know myself. The rest are brave men, they are heroes, and they will fight to death. But me, and you, we were born to survive."

Kewl

Kewl~!!!
New domain. Though a bit unnecessary since nobody read my blog anyway.
I'm thinking of stuff to create for my website.
If you got some ideas let me know :)

Not sure if I have time to make them though, between the clay, the job, and the household haha

The urge to create

I know I have been slack :P I've practically left the story and have not been able to get myself back to it.
I will though. It's just a matter of time before the heart urges me again.

On the other hand, I'm also trying new things. I've been forever admiring the sellers at etsy, I'm sure you know what that is. A creative bunch, even though mostly overpriced. I am just about dying to make something that looks professional enough for it to be commercial. A secret dream of someday having my own shop that may not be as busy as Woolworths, but a special gem.

However, those creative makers always have a distinct style, something I haven't found yet, and am continuously trying to.

Wish me luck :)

It's time to talk about the toilet business again. There was some process involved in relieving yourself. The prison had a big toilet inside the building, one where there are no stalls or partitions, just toilet bowls sitting in array. The ladies toilet was in another wing, and was reserved for the soldiers. That leaves this toilet being unisex.

The process involved was approaching one of the guards and telling him you need to go. If he says it's okay, and okay would depend on how many people have already gone inside the building you will walk toward the building entrance, where there's another guard in front of the door. You will also need to tell him about your purpose and he will let you in. The toilet wasn't so far from the door, so an escort was not necessary, besides there is nothing inside where you can do anything anyway.

Needless to say, being a unisex toilet and one that doesn't have any compartments means some adjustments was needed. Intuitively, the men would go together, and they will refrain from going to the toilet if a woman was known to be inside. Apart from a few harmless incidents, this arrangement worked well.

You've lost sense on dates. You've stopped counting days for awhile now. Everyday was just another waking up to the same hot unforgiving sun, and every night was just another night to go through. There was nothing very meaningful anymore.

Food came, sparsely. It seemed that food was being brought to the city from somewhere else. There was no sign of kitchen anywhere. The ration was meager, the quality nauseating. At first you didn't want to touch it, but then common sense got the better of you. You were hungry, there was nothing else but that daily porridge-like stuff that didn't have any meat or anything in it. It was just enough to keep you alive till the next day. Sometimes they didn't give anything except water, you suspected that they haven't successfully manage the delivery time yet.

Most of the prisoners have gotten one or more sickness, diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration, the kind you would expect under similar circumstances anywhere. Within just around a week you think, everyone was visibly weakened and thinner.

You walked straight towards the girl. Your father called out to warn you, the guard tensed and eyed your steps. You glared back at them, daring them to approach.
'Marie', you said when you neared her.
She looked up, eyes as deep as the bottom of the sea answered you with questions in her eyes. You faltered, forgetting what you wanted to say. You were caught up in rage, and you forgot them when she looked back at you.
'Marie', you murmured again. The people around her begun to edge away, giving space, privacy that was impossible. There was urgency in your tone.
'Yes', she answered softly.
'Are you okay?', what a stupid question you've uttered, you wanted to kick yourself.
'As fine as I can be at this moment', she replied.
'Are you hurt anywhere?'
'Well, just scrapes here and there. You don't look perfect yourself.'
You looked down at your shoes, your dirty clothes, your dirty hands, and quickly run through your hair with your fingers to rectify your situation.
You sat down beside her, and thought you'd better make light of the situation.
'It's hot isn't it.'
She just nodded. Well, duh.

Not to say that they were aliens. No. They were just different. They have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, two ears. Everything you would have expected. But they were different in a way, that you know what this was all about. It was about the lowest kind of reason among other theories you have been thinking of. Yet, it was still the most often occurring reason. The fact that you are different itself was the cause, and the assumption that you were same with the rest of the 75 people.

How mundane are people? How susceptible? How banal? How same. You were disappointed with a different reason than the rest of the 75 people. Smiles were beginning to disappear from faces, chatters die as they adjusted their eyes and looked towards the saviors. How brief can joy be.

They lowered their stairs, and down came a few men with their weapons. Guns, big ones, not like the rifles you've seen. These guys meant business. They spoke to you with anger, as if your father had killed theirs. Go up, they said. Fast. Then they prod you and pointed at you, and off you go supporting grandma with your arms.

Up you went, to breathe the sunlight. You looked around, shocked even though you were prepared. You can imagine it in your head, a broken city, but when you see it and it's in front of your eyes it's a whole different story. There was nothing left, except ashes, dust, piles of blackened concrete. Not a speck of green. You see gray ashes in front and all around, you saw nothing of the tall office buildings and apartments. You staggered forward, dragging your grandmother. The ones who got out before you stood agape looking at the view.

To put it simply, if you cram enough people in a room without ventilation and enough food, you will take out a good glob of disease. It was hot and damp, a nasty mix of air. Coughs were the most common, because the air was putrid and nasty, because we didn't drink enough. Next is stomach problems. Your grandma got this one, possibly because she was old, and couldn't get enough sleep with these strange surroundings. Luckily, your parents still have some pills they took from the house, but your grandma was weak anyhow.

Your grandma calls you to her, and you crouched over and found her hand in yours. You rubbed her palms soothingly, and whispered stupid jokes you know she liked. She was weak and strong at the same time. You found your eyes sting after awhile, when you stroke her to sleep and her breath steadied down.

In the dark, you can hear the asynchronous symphony of breathing and snoring. You try to discern which belong to who for amusement. You know you have begun to distinguish people from their voices, it only took a few days for that. Especially for the elders, and the little children. There was little Tanya, whose voice was shrilly and sweet, she was the daughter of Fried two blocks down the road. Mrs. Fried herself was a grumpy homemaker, she ravage about everything and just couldn't stop getting mad at her husband. You wondered how her daughter would turn up, just like her mother? There was also the Greens, who are quiet most of the time. But when Mr. Green spoke he had a heavy bass voice, vibrating, and attractive. Mrs. Green was also quiet, but you heard her sob sometimes when the loudest 'rain' flew by. The list goes on for about 20 more people. You surely couldn't manage to hear the rest of the people in the room.

You believe that when a lot of people think one thought or let's say wish, it will materialize. You read that somewhere. So you started wishing and thinking. 'This will stop, and we will get out of this hole'. Continue, multiply by 76 people who would want the same thing and your wish shall come true. The catch is, wishes come true in ways that you can't imagine. You can factor in this and that, but not everything. Why? Because you are simply not god.

First, it was silent. No more rain, no more hot oven air. Hopes were rising, you can hear mothers chatter to one another. They always chatter when they're excited. You waited, patiently. After a few hours, perhaps a day even - because you've lost track of time - you heard noises. Like machines, like drills.

The noise got louder after a few hours, the men were tense. It wasn't the procedure, once it was safe, there's supposed to be a signal, and there's a latch you can pull that opens up the stairs. Were we trapped? Perhaps a big concrete fell on the opening that we wouldn't be able to open the door anyway. Your father got up slowly, trying not to trip walking between the people, he reached up to the ceiling to feel the vibrations.

'Drills?', he muttered your thoughts aloud.
'By the time they reached us we'd already be dead at that rate,' snuffed your brother.
'Shut up,' you said.

An hour later, the noise was unbearable. It seemed to resonate through the whole room, like being stuck inside a tractor machine. Drrrrrr. Drrrrrr. It went on and on, and you thought the rain was bad enough. Then there was banging, clanking, all sorts of noise for another half an hour.

Then silence for a few minutes, a creak on the door in the ceiling, and light. Too much light. You supposed it was high noon up there. There was too much altogether that everyone shouted and covered their eyes. After a minute, you looked up to see the faces that granted your wish.

The wrong kind of faces.

They didn't forget to build a toilet, at least. There were 76 people in the room, you've counted, and there was 1 toilet. There is always someone inside; the results were of course an undeniable stench coming out from that door. You thought 76 civilized decent people would be able to keep the toilet clean. The reality was, however educated you are you still shit and piss like any other person, and your smell isn't any better.

Mother tried to hold on her bladder as long as she can, everytime. She felt like retching whenever she's in there. You watch her as she held her shirt to her nose, and pulled out extra courage just to get in the toilet. She was born in a lucky era, and now she's unlucky. Grandma, on the other hand, was untouched by the filth. You wonder if she has lost her sense of smell. No, she's just seen worse days.

Finally, it was your dad; the ever loving figure. He got up, and cleaned the whole lot. Right before Mother had to go. People looked at him as though he is crazy, would you rather him be otherwise? You felt bad because it wasn't you who did it, you felt good he got up first so it doesn't have to be you.

Food was scarce now. You guessed they forgot that humans need food to live on. But you knew better, they just didn't expect it to last for so long. They did prepare some, but not enough for 76 people times five days. They thought it would soon end, but no, the rain kept coming. There was nothing else to destroy was there? There was no retaliation, no fighting back, why do they keep on wasting effort? They must really hate you.

Right after all the food were gone, the children start crying. Even Leaking Drain couldn't quiet them. Grandma was hungry, but she didn't say anything. Father, he opened his bag and found the bread mother had packed, he split it into 10 pieces. He kept four pieces; tucked it back, and gave the rest to the children. None of us stopped him, we were silent. It worked, the children were happy and forgot they were just crying a second ago.

Your brother created a new song, it's called Goddamn Fire. Funny enough, it was a cheerful tone. The children learned to sing it, and even their mothers did not stop them from repeatedly saying 'goddamn'. You laughed at your brother and the children. Yet you think he was stupid, singing instead of thinking of a plan for tomorrow, when we all resurface.

So what did you do? While your brother made a song, sang? While your father shared his food, while your grandmother stroke your mother's hand? Nothing. You thought about anger, would you be able to get revenge for your burnt down house? How? No, you won't be able to execute that, you're not even athletic. You thought about the subject you had about politics, you thought about making a change to the world once you are important enough and got a good solid job. You thought about covering your house with the world's strongest material so that it can never be destroyed. Where did your thoughts get you to? Nowhere.

But you don't know that. Because you were busy and lost in it.

You got out to the pavement with your bag, people were already out before you, and still more are coming. Everyone, without a smile, everyone walking briskly, some half running. You braced yourself against the cold wind and walked to the same direction. Like a parade of fishes in the sea meeting the same fate.

Your family beside you, you keep walking till you reach the safe room. Safe they said, from a hit if it happened. They didn't tell you it wouldn't keep you safe from sorrow. The room was packed, there was barely a spot to sit down. It smelled and there was lack of air. You found a corner with your family, and tried to get yourself comfortably sitting. Waiting.

The first one didn't come immediately, it didn't even come that day. You thought you should have taken your time and took more of your stuff with you. As if there was any room for more stuff in that shallow bunker.

When it came, it sounded like rain, because there was so many of them. At first you only heard the sounds and feel a little tremor going up your spine. Later on, it was so near and so strong you felt you went deaf. You thought it was never going to end.

They were right, you were left alive in that room. They made sure you were alive to experience the rest of your life. It went on and on for two whole days before the next worse thing. By now your ears have gotten used to it. You have learned how to drink while the room shook. Then one of them fell right above you you know by now that there was no roof above this roof, that is why this time it felt so real, so near.

The lamp died. The light was substituted with children screaming, mother hushing. In the dark- not just dark, it was pitch black-you found little to believe in. You heard prayers being said across the room, but you found little comfort with it. In the black, you noticed you couldn't tell a difference between the old and the young, the woman and the man. In the eyes of black, everyone and everything was equal.

It was your brother that broke the sobbing, he created silence. In the black, there was only one thing to do. Listen to music. He played his recently composed song on the small damn ukulele. It wasn't very good. He made mistakes here and there. But people listened, there was nothing else to hold on to. He was the lighthouse.

The song was called, "The Leaking Drain". You had laughed at it, who ever thinks a leaking drain sings. But now, you're not sure it's silly anymore.

When he finished, silence went over the room, and we slept replaying The Leaking Drain over again in our head.

Future - Part 1

One day you wake up, not knowing that someone has decided to change your life.
Not someone you personally know, someone up there, someone who doesn't know your grandmother sleeping in the next room, your parents who worked on their store everyday, your brother whom you always fought with.

One day you wake up, hearing the alarm. Not just any alarm, but The Alarm. The one that wails sorrowfully, the one people forgot on their dinner table. The Alarm, the one the authorities have warned you might some day be put to use. It's the one that they say to leave your belongings behind

You get off from bed, feeling still drowsy, not sure what it means. Your parents are smarter, they are busy packing. Your brother started going to the cupboard, finding some food because he is hungry and he doesn't care. You tried to remember what they told you in high school.

Your parents shouted you to wake up, start moving, start packing your essentials. Who knows when you will be back? Who knows if there is anything to go back to? The first thing you took was your high school diploma. You thought it was your chance back to the future. It is the ticket that is going to save you later on. That's what you think, that's only if the definition of future is still the same.

Your parents took their valuables, to save them from burglars, to rebuild their life when needed. That's what they think, that's only if life is what waits for you. Your brother now started to catch what is happening, he put some bread in his rucksack. Because he is hungry, because he doesn't care for anything else. He tuck some old shirt too, and his most precious ukulele.

You found out later on that among your family, your brother the insolent harsh brute is the smartest one. You searched open my secret cupboard, looking for a letter you had planned to give to your crush. You put it in a bag, wondering if you'd meet her on the way out. You decided you need something to eat too, so you pushed a bread in my mouth, and continued packing your clothes.

You r grandmother, bless her, she was slow. Your mother helped her up. She was too slow though, she wanted to stay behind. She was confident and fearless and old. Finally, mother packed her some water, some congee leftover, and a set of clothes. Grandmother watched us pack, mumbling that you should not forget to bring some meds. Yes, grandmother was wise too.

Cinderella's Sister

I am watching the Kdrama titled Cinderella's Sister.
It's how the sister came to be who she is, and how Cinderella came to be her. I mean psychologically.
Both had character flaws, and both had good points. The writer was quite good in portraying the twists that makes you wonder which one is actually the better person.
There isn't a better person.

One is respected because she is hardworking and does not kiss ***. She earns the respect, even if she is constantly mean towards other. The other tries so hard to match the bitterness, while deep inside she is still hungry for a sister's love. She appears shallow, useless, crybaby, but undeniably, she has a charm and honest care towards others that you can't deny.

But of course, it's just a drama. And not very realistic one at that either I must admit.

However I should say, there is no better person between you or me, and even if you hate me so. Even if I deserve it, and even if I retaliate becoming the most bitter person you would ever know someday. There's some part of me that will still wish things were different.

Super powers

I have a confession.
Like perhaps some other people whom I would laugh and shouted 'Loser' at,
I have always dreamt... of... having super powers. Here's your cue to laugh.

At certain moments in my life, I would sit down, and with my eyes open *those movies that require eyes to close for imagination, surely failed at imagining how a person would imagine* I would see myself as a super powress.

What powers, you may ask.
Anything. Anything that separates me from me, like the foolish desire to be cool or unique. It's not about unique at all, it's about knowing undeniably, that I was born to do one thing.

How does that work you may ask? Well, if I have super powers on flying, that would mean I was born to fly, because it's a responsibility for having something no one else has. If I was born a talented painter *and for me, these sorts of talents are super powers too*, I wouldn't be able to run away from painting. It's not about being different. It's about knowing who you are.

I envy those people, I envied Mozart, I envied Beethoven, I envied Da Vinci, I envied Anna Pavlova and many, many more.

I had often imagined, that I suddenly wake up one morning, and as if possessed be able to do something that I wouldn't normally be able to, like playing a very hard piece in a piano, like doing somersaults, like drawing something precisely as I had envision it, like making the world a beautiful place to be in.

Some people argue, that working hard for something, will make all the more satisfaction when you are able to do it. I have respect for people who work hard on something, no question. Some people can reach the sky by working hard, mostly though, like me, will only get so far. Neither here nor there.

That day when I will awaken has yet to come, and I know it won't, yet once in awhile, I sit down and imagine it has.

to you.

No one knows why
No one can tell you why
No one should say why
and I will not

I would have nothing to offer
but a silent moment or a tear to two
but know
that my thought flies to you

I WILL remember you.

One day in my dreams..
You will stand beside me proud, with eyes full of light. Beside me, facing all the others, and proud to be where you stand..
And I will be proud to be where I am, for I will no longer be the shame that you cover, a sin under cover, but the woman I should be. Claimed, no.. shouted.. as your one.

One day, some day.. when I deserve it.
One day perhaps in another life..

Hold on to what is good,
Even if it's a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe,
Even if it's a tree that stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do,
Even if it's a long way from here.
Hold on to your life,
Even if it's easier to let go.
Hold on to my hand,
Even if someday I'll be gone away from you.

A Pueblo Indian Prayer

Can you love someone so much you'd lie?

According to Jodi Picoult you can.

Handle with Care.

It was sort of typical Jodi Picoult story, admirably she always managed to put analogies and metaphors in completely different topic, this time she used cooking. Rather, desert cooking.

The recipes inside though looked too hard for me to try, but it's worth to keep for future references :P. Note to self: One day when I'm good enough I will try at least one of the recipes there.

In the book, the mother loved the child so much, that she'd will to stand up in court and say she wished the child has never been born. All, basically for money, but she said it wasn't for money.. what confusing story.
Even after finishing the story, even after the ending, I still wonder why she'd do that, and about the jury's final verdict. I still don't agree, because I think they'd be fine without the court case anyway.
It was too weak of a reason I had thought, "to secure her future" , "to give her a better future"

But what is the definition of a better future? Is it one where you can comfortably live.. or one where you look back and never a moment doubt that you had been loved?

Well the child did understand the mom in the end *spoiler alert.. too late.. HAHA*

And now, though it is not a good analogy, I am trying to learn.. how to love someone so much I'd lie for their future. Yet at the same time, silently wishing one day they'd understand.. Rather like Itachi, huh? :))

not as much perhaps, but enough to feel a longing
not a sun eclipse, but like a galaxy that realized it has grown to have so much more room.

dis.crep.an.cy
- noun
~the difference between the number of times you heard it and the number of times I've thought of it

I've changed history

I want to save people. But it's too much of a dream.
Tell me how when I can only silently let go of the rain that comes everytime I can't save you.

the dream

so as not to forget my dream, because i don't want to forget
I dreamt of a sheep
No
i dream of my best friend forever, or so boys say

Last day at the office
got a bundle of torn pages from a novel from my bff.. i suspect it's "Twilight"

The office turned out cool sleek and white, like an imac. with cool LCD monitors.









and then there was a party
and me wearing my photo shoot wedding dress
and i was singing with him
.. is it a graduation party?
I suppose it could be
and i was cool and calm
because i know.. i have my bff beside me
:)

Thank you

Then there were fireworks
and we looked up
and the song plays




















a whole new world
only in dreams

i wish i could make you jealous like you always made me

There are some things that can be felt
Some things that exist
even if one doesn't say it
even if one doesn't do it

There are some things I hope to reach you, felt and known.
The times when I can't say it, the times when I kept still.

Know it. Feel it.

If you tell yourself something doesn't matter... it won't, right?
If you tell yourself it won't matter.. this one tear would not mean anything, right?
If I tell myself it'll be okay.. I'm ok.. arent I?

Can you refuse a dream
so true that it's false
so brief it cannot be forgotten
so beautiful it must be unreal

Would you refuse a dream
when reality shatters it
when your heart bleeds
when it's just a dream

a beautiful one nevertheless..