i vow to avid readers of this blog that posts will be more regular, and seems like we are on a breeze. everyone loves to read about someone else's life, to catch some glimpses into the other side of a character we think we know, but we hardly even recognise them thru their writings.
 
writing means alot to me. it keeps me sane, in this churning insane world, driven by monetary gains, power struggles and unfortunately, with rumour mongers acting as catalysts. i dont know if i should be thankful for living in these times, i dont know if i will be proud of what my grandkids read in their history book. maybe, it will all be wiped afresh with antiseptic, nothing beats a sanitised history lessons, ask the japanese.
 
i have been crying in my sleep the last week. the last dream/nightmare i could remember was a new anthrax being created by the radicals. maybe i have been thinking too much about how the world's looking these days, maybe i need to practise what i preach: carpe diem. maybe i should fill my mind with work related thoughts.
 
contrary to popular belief, i havent caught F911. honestly, i have never enjoyed Moore's style of satirical takes. not that its no good, but i dont click with that sort of entertainment. loopholes thrive in the entertaining style of Moore, but supporters oversee and laugh over these pinnacles of misinformation. one thing i admire and am thankful of Moore for, sensitivising not sanitising us, from the powers of mass destructions. i know i will still catch F911,  i will be alittle entertained, alittle questioning, and back to reading, Noam Chomsky.  

its a really unique experience. to venture into university grounds. when technically you are socially unfit in the surroundings. liken to a refusal to move on. liken to anchovies on an uncorrected pizza order. liken to the misfit oxymoron: giant shrimps. there i was, this afternoon, armed with an illegal student i.d, intruding on the grounds. i greeted a couple of shocked " what are you doing here, intruder!" faces.
 
as i brushed shoulders with the cohort, stared with disdain and dismay, what i am missing. the university grounds to a certain extent breathes an air of exclusivity. breathes an inwardness that echos inacceptance of the minority groups. university students are labelled smart, savvy and intelligent, by the mature folks who have aged beliefs on the exclusivity of a university education.
 
we read the same texts. we sat the same exams. we eat in the same canteen. we drink the same brand of coffee. we insist on sitting on a certain patch on the lawns. its still an irony to me, some speak of their degrees, others have their degrees speak about them.
 
i indeed felt lost once again. i have no tutes room to head to, no lecture theatres to rush into with my latte, i am directionless in the grounds, i used to run around blindly. nonetheless, it was refreshing to eavesdrop on the drive, motivation and unique ignorance, i used to possess.
 
i will keep to my bike path, i will stare from afar with my tampered eyesight, the exclusive university grounds. shamelessly designed to marginalise.
 
*peace*

 

havent been doddling much.
havent been quenching my artistic thirst.
or maybe i thirst no more, maybe the thirst has been quenched
by pragmaticality & practicality of the 'art'
 
but then again,
shouldnt it be an appreciation of the element of design
shouldnt it be more than the glam, glitz and scale of elements
i am glad i get driven by passion, encouraged by monetary benefits
and
disappointed by similarly designed fellow humankind just from my visit to the zoo
 
the visit to the zoo
the elephant discretly whispered in my ears
how insulting for humankind 
having to reach self destruction
through the palms of some muslim radicals
 
animals have known the vicious cycle of life
but this was an eye opener
to be recorded into history
by timba the ape
 
cant really do much for the world.
i think i am old enough.
i think i am a super hero. (heroine for the feminists out there)
my teachers failed to teach me, or maybe even they are lost
how the world spins on the axis of power figures.

more than the simple acceptance of fate  

i wished i had more courage.
to demand
when the level of service dips to ground zero.
to glide down
the steepest slopes.
to do a simple wheelie.
but at least,
i get up on my own two feet,
when i fall time and again. 

australian circumstances & chinese character
the chinese lady from across the road reckons the two dont mix.
and who am i to question her regrets.