I too can be free

oh boy, its 4:42 pm, and what a miserable day it is.............cloudy and dank and rather defeatist, just like my feelings towards my exams. although if the past year has taught me anything, its that i can do no better than to always focus on the positive (but then i have had an extraordinarily successful year in 2007-08 by my standards - no suicidal depression in the winter months for the first time since i was nine years old, and a lot of things received, achieved, and believed). there are always reasons to be miserable - i tend to indulge in frequent bouts of intense self-pity, punctuated by occasional euphoric outbursts triggered by elation, paranoia, apprehension or all three - and of course there are the predictable moodswings that follow the trend of the lunar cycle, of all things............but funnily enough, for the first time last year, all that ***t didn't happen. i don't know what it was, maybe the relief of handling easy subjects (for me), the creative scope i got to do stuff; write, act, speak, maybe the fact that after being put in charge of some projects at school (for whatever reason) i learned to handle authority for the first time, maybe because i was so busy and so tired and worn out all the time i didn't have a chance to introspect too much, maybe a combination of all of this - but for the first time i truly shrugged off the pressure of expectations, in the way i promised myself since i turned thirteen. after hitting the teens, i've always stuck to the principle that you shouldn't care about what others think of you if you want to keep your sanity and self-respect alive and in good working order. but there was always a sense of playing to the footlights, like i wouldn't dare to be me, to stand out there and rip off the disguise and show people "this is me, whole and true" for fear of what they might think of me............that paralyzing self-doubt, the fear of not being good enough, being laughed at and mocked, always just under the surface, always on the guard, waiting for something to rip the carpet out from under my feet.

but this year.....oh, this year i achieved the right things at the right time, with the right attitude as a side bonus, and then i picked up momentum, and before i knew it insecurity and fear were going out the window and courage and success and the sweet, sweet feeling of not giving a damn took their place. and i'm happy, goddammit, and proud of it! a monumental achievement of mine, this being happy....because as always no-one is better than me at dragging me down, especially whenever i get close to the top.........weird thing to write, isn't it....."today i didn't make me unhappy" ....but so new, so wonderful, so addictive a feeling for me, i can't get enough of it.

even the rain can't make me sad! i love the chill wind on my skin, and the faint smell of wet earth that you get in the suburbs, and the grey sky makes me all dreamy and makes me wonder about the steel fortress of the clouds...............

i have uptil the 3rd of march to live with the pressure of exams. after that i'm free...but this is a weak bondage anyway.

i have a good life. a good family, the finer things of life, good friends, a shelf on the wall with a lot of glass and metal on it, a lot of ambitions, my health, even potential for a "soulmate" (though i doubt it - big deal anyway) and a crazy imagination that is the most vital part of me.

when i write this, i almost can't recognize myself from even a year ago. it seems like someone else, someone who's not insecure and sullen, resentful and introverted anymore. all that i replaced with layers of self-confidence (ok, let's be honest-arrogance, but who cares) and an inches thick layer of immunity to negative vibes (very essential). my friends think i've grown more caring and comforting though. looks like security breeds empathy.

this blog is going to sound insane to anyone who doesn't know me. so what, i'm still gonna post it to prove i'm real.

this is basically a declaration of independence from me to myself.

i may be crazy/but it's working for me baby/and oneday it might work for you too/and if you're the only reason/that i'm supposed to stick around/then i might as well be done with you

peace out. goodnight, world

still and always alone

dear blog diary
i just want to post something on the spur of the moment. i know it won't make sense to most people; it doesn't even rhyme right, for crying out loud, but its still the most honest thing i've ever written, and the witching hour seemed like the right time to put my soul online

STILL SO ALONE.........

i sit here now
an empty desk before me
empty thoughts, empty words
empty feelings flow through me
my eyes open, the mind stays closed
my fingers flex without feeling
i feel myself beginning to sink slowly
and then my mind starts reeling
at last i grasp the implication
of what i suspected for so long
i live outside my own body
my life is not where i belong
i wish i was normal,like everyone else
i wish i didn't think so much,that i could be happy to be blind
i wish i could choose not to see what repels me
i wish i could be blank inside my own mind
i used to think i was lucky,to see things from a higher place
now my tower is an island fortress, with only me inside
i look for the people who might have lived here once,or might want to
i search,i probe,plead to Fate to take my loneliness on a joyride
i try to be happy that i'm so alone, that i speak in a code language
with only one existing key,that i hold, alone by default
but i need someone,anyone,to say they know how i think,why i feel,how i act
why my guilt brings me to my knees at an abrupt halt
i've almost given up waiting to find someone like me
almost surrendered,but not quite
maybe if i hide myself behind me for a little longer
one day i'll find the light
and so my mind goes blank and my conscience switches off again
my fingers uncurl themselves,my eyes stare sightlessly
my mouth feels numb, like there's no more to say
and then - my ghosts resurface remorselessly

valentine's day

i love to hate love. even when i'm trying to want to love. maybe because i'm bored by the incessant and excessive sentiment that is love. a clean, empty heart with efficiently-docketed emotions just seems so much more appealing. thank the gods i have sarcasm instead.

go simpsons.....up yours, mr.burns!

power drives men crazy. but sometimes the screenwriters behind them take this power-craze to a whole new dimension of ironic cruelty. for example, mr.burns, courtesy the simpsons. following are some classic lines from episodes over the long, money-hungry, power-mad years.....

Mr.Burns: Quick Smithers. Bring the mind eraser device!

Smithers:You mean the revolver, sir?

Mr.Burns: Precisely.

Mr. Burns: I'll keep it short and sweet -- Family. Religion. Friendship. These are the three demons you must slay if you wish to succeed in business.

Burns: Look at that pig. Stuffing his face with donuts on my time! That's right, keep eating...Little do you know you're drawing ever closer to the poison donut! [cackles evilly, then stops abruptly] There is a poison one, isn't there Smithers?

Smithers: Err...no, sir. I discussed this with our lawyers and they consider it murder.

Mr. Burns: I could crush him like an ant. But it would be too easy. No, revenge is a dish best served cold. I'll bide my time until ... Oh, what the hell. I'll just crush him like an ant.

Mr. Burns: I don't like being outdoors Smithers, for one thing, there's too many fat children.

Mr. Burns: Woah, slow down there maestro. There's a *New* Mexico?

Mr. Burns: What good is money if it can't inspire terror in your fellow man?

Mr. Burns: No one will want to kiss me after this, eh, Smithers?

Smithers: Well, it's their loss, sir.

Burns: I feel like such a free spirit, and I'm really enjoying this so-called...iced cream.

Smithers: Sir, in the spirit of the festival and everything, I'd just like to say that...[ahem]...I...love you.

Burns: Hmm? S

mithers: [quickly] In those colors! [aside] Oh, who am I kidding? The boathouse was the time!

Burns: The watchdog of public safety, is there any lower form of life?

Smithers: Don't worry sir, I rounded up our less gifted employees and led them into the basement.

Mr. Burns: Smithers I'm thinking about donating some money to the orphanage..when pigs fly!(Homer's bbq pig flies past the window)

Burns: Smithers, I've been thinking. Is it wrong to cheat to win a million-dollar bet?

Smithers: Yes, sir.

Burns: Let me rephrase that. Is it wrong if I cheat to win a million-dollar bet? Smithers: No, sir. Who would you like killed?

Mr.Burns: (To Homer)One more thing...You must find the Jade Monkey before the next full moon!

Smithers: Actually sir, we found the jade monkey. It was in your glove compartment.

Mr.Burns: And the road maps, and the driving gloves?!

Smithers: Yes, sir.Mr.Burns:Then its all falling into place!

Burns: I should've known you were the only one stupid enough to kidnap you! Now get down here so I can spank you in front of this gawking rabble. Smithers, take off my belt.

Smithers: With pleasure, sir!

Mr. Burns: Smithers there's a rocket in my pocket.

Mr. Burns: I'm looking for something in an attack dog. One who likes the sweet gamey tang of human flesh. Hmmm, why here's the fellow ... Wiry, fast, firm, proud buttocks. Reminds me of me.

Mr. Burns: A lifetime of working with nuclear power has left me with a healthy green glow... and left me as impotent as a Nevada boxing commissioner.

Mr. Burns: What are you doing man, that's Carl!

enjoy.........

a shadow behind me

my first shot at horror fiction.....please comment

A SHADOW BEHIND ME

This is something that happened to me in the summer this year, when my parents were out and I was alone in the house.
I was working quietly at my desk when it happened. At first it looked like a flickering shadow behind me. No need to overreact, I thought, that oddly shaped shadow behind me is probably just a trick of the light. Until I heard the first wet footsteps behind me and cold, damp fingers touched the side of my neck.
I steeled my mind and whirled around, just fast enough to see a grotesque childlike figure slithering up out of the window, leaving behind the dank smell of marshland.
I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, my stomach clenching in fear every time I heard the smallest sound. I finally fell asleep, and woke up with a start to the sickening sound of something like slime and dead leaves and branches being dragged across the roof directly above my room. And when I tentatively stretched out my hand to draw back the curtains and look out, there were a pair of gleaming bestial eyes staring straight at me, upside down with the long matted filthy hair hanging like a screen to block out the streetlights.
At that point I dropped the curtains and ran, back into the corridor barely moments before the thing leapt through the window and went for my throat.
I edged desperately along the wall, and all I could see, all I could think of was the strand of brown, matted hair swinging before my eyes as it kept pace with my motions. And then I made a mistake. I looked up.
The child clinging to the ceiling was anything but. Beneath the slime the face was pitted and creased, with unimaginably horrific fangs that somehow still had blood on them, I didn’t dare to think from what.
At that moment a dog howled in the distance. The-the thing froze, and then bounded out the window, seconds before daylight broke.
I was in a state of paralyzed shock throughout the day. I heard the news of the savage mangling and death of a neighbor’s child with complete acceptance, like I’d known about it since I first saw the dank, slimy footprints on our roof, no larger than a child’s but with the imprints of attached talons. Talons that hours ago had ripped out and eaten a human child’s intestines while it was still alive and whimpering in terror.
There were wild stories circulating, stories I’d never heard before because I’d been too young, horror tales of savage swamp creatures that were driven out from their homes once the estate development people came, creatures that skulked in the putrid recesses of the marshland on the fringes of the suburbs, living on garbage and the occasional piece of human meat that came their way.
Apparently no-one had seen anything, or, like me, they were too scared to talk. This was two weeks before things went wild.
They came. Not singly or in pairs, but in an army of grinning, leaping, horrific savagery in the night, when everyone was sleeping. Soon dozens of us were dead, ripped apart and eaten in front of our numbed eyes. Children mostly went first, and strong-looking men and old people were clubbed to death and their bodies left to rot beneath lampposts.
The creatures stank of the marshland. Oozing slime, they threw our possessions around, made nests in our homes and drove us to the rooftops and cornices where we stayed for hours in terrified hiding. We’d lost all communications with the outside world, and soon some of us started dying of starvation. This was until the Army came.
Soon men in khaki carrying rifles stormed the suburbs and demolished about fourteen buildings before they could flush out the swamp creatures, which had taken to scampering around in broad daylight and provided an easy target to expert Army snipers and shooters.
Rebuilding and medical teams arrived within hours. In two days’ time everything was back to normal, except the families who had lost members to the mass carnage.
Life goes on. We have tried hard to move on from what happened this year. The military claimed the “incident” had been a “contained threat”. Everyone is busy trying to forget. Obviously it’s not that easy.
For one thing, there are still reports of the swamp creatures killing and eating some slum children. Various people have claimed that they’ve seen small lithe bodies leaping about in the swamp, especially when the street dogs start to howl.
And lastly, there’s me. Wherever these creatures are, I have a gut feeling that they’ll come back. It’s the marsh air that pulls them inland towards the city. And according to all sources, they breed like rabbits, so it’s only a question of time before there are more of them than there are of us, and they attack with greater strength for the final attack that could wipe us out for good. And next time they’ll mean it, because more than their original home territory, now they want their revenge.

WHY CRY WHEN YOU CAN SCREAM?

this is a "pome" that i wrote just now, to relieve my rather violent feelings against peer pressure......i suppose it's not much good, but it's all you're getting from me today

WHY CRY

what do you do when you feel alone

do you read a book and stay at home

do you sing a song like "A Heart of Stone"

do you call me up on the telephone



what do you cry about alone at night

do you mourn the way you lost the fight

do you wait and pray for the morning light

do you care when i worry if you're all right



what do you say when they tell you to leave

do you hold your head high and try to deceive

yourself and them, try to make them believe

that you don't really wear your heart on your sleeve



what do you care, when you live your own way

why should you care what you heard yesterday

who are they to tell you how to live your life today

you're you inside and out, no matter what they say