Wednesday, September 27, 2006
2:45 AM

Ends.

"They come and go. Take and give. Fuck and kiss. That's life."

That's life. Its been close to a year, and an pretty enjoyable one at that. I had a swell time writing entries to entertain, to cure a lonely saturday night alone, to trip the mind of an einstein, and most of the time to be one hell of a bitch.

I've shared your joy and shed my tears and now this blog finally comes to a closure. An end. A finale of sorts.

I am still blogging, but on a different; somehow similar platform where I don't have to suffer the scrutiny of the watchful eyes. I don't want to crush something I so love just because I'm afraid of finding out one day people start staring at me through tainted glasses. I need comformity of that fact, but more importantly I need some breathing space.

Thank you for all the months of support if you've been reading since day one. To the friends I've made through blogging, friends who have become more than just internet friends to me, you know your names and I don't believe you guys need to be mentioned to find out - I love you guys and I am so damn sure this will not impede our friendship. Definitely, contact will still be kept and you guys are too precious to be true.

This is getting too sappy. So let's put a stamp to this envelope and drop it down the mailbox. I hope I made an impact to anyone who have read and inspired. I hope I brought a smile to anyone who suffers a little case of depression. I hope I evoked a tear to anyone who have been holding it in since forever.

I hope, and I can only hope.

Goodbye, bitches.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Saturday, September 23, 2006
4:02 PM

Escape.

I'm feeling unsatisfied.

I drop my sister's blog a rare visit, and I'm left jaw wide open by her tales of her strolls down St. Kilda beach back in Melbourne, the dry muffins that she fed to the flocks of birds that scattered around her feet, the crashing waves. I remember all that on our last visit, a pity I wasn't old enough to really savour the many satisfying moments then.

Having gotten myself updated with her life, I look back at mine and a frown escapes my cracked lips. I'm either at work moaning or at home suffering from pangs of pain in my head and a bloody nose.

I need an escape. A period of time sliced off my life when I don't have to be the 16 year old student struggling with school and work. I'll just be a wandering minor with a burning cigaratte in one hand while the other hand scratches my butt intently.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Sunday, September 17, 2006
2:34 AM

Happy Birthday, Kenn Boy.

It happened once, amidst a horde of people sipping onto their coffee, chatting up about office politics and where they got their hair done. I allowed myself to black out, waking up to my friend's nagging shake, a whole mess of vomit splattered all over my shirt and having to listen to my friend's rendition about how I started vibrating like a handphone put on silent.

A fit. I had a fit and I thought, or was hoping, rather that that would be the last of it. Maybe I didn't hope hard enough.

Perhaps that's why it hit me for a second time today. Sipping onto a nice, frosty cup of Spinelli while enjoying the radio-friendly hits being performed by two guys outside Heeren - it was a lovely night to tap your feet to, whip up some night lovin' to the beats but a giddy trap had to snap at my head just as I answered Kenn's call and before I knew it I was slumping down onto the wooden chair.

I woke up to strangers gripping onto my shoulders this time round, without any friends around. I didn't know if I spasmed throughout the time I was unconscious, but I remembered vaguely I had probably a million dreams penetrating in and out of my head. I was covered in sweat and I could taste the vomit halfway through my throat.

I quickly recovered back to a slouching position and raised my hand slightly as a gesture of appreciation to the guy, but my mind was still in a swirl. Another phonecall from Kenn came shortly and I was struggling with trying to comprehend his words. It just felt... shitty.

I survived the rest of the night with a mild throb in my head and a lousy appetite, but it was still fun, nevertheless. Watching Kenn and Chris discuss about cars and army life makes me feel 16 year old but it was cool, not having to feel pressured to take responsibility for anything or anyone. I didn't have to be responsible for keeping the crowd entertained. I didn't have to be the one to kill the awkward silence. I could slip right back onto the couch and chuckle to their jokes. Maybe I never had a brother figure in my life. I had one for a short while - my brother-in-law. But ever since the divorce, followed up by my sister falling out with my mother, me falling out with my dad, and partly with my mom... nothing felt salvageable and I was just too tired to bother.

Dinner at Balcony was good, only if I had a better appetite I could've finished the whole thing but the stench of the vomit was still lingering down my throat.

We drove down to Bugis for pool after dinner, and of course by we I don’t mean me because I don't even know how to start reel down the window panes to start with. Kenn's car had some good music, almost like a place to hideout after a busy night of socializing. Well, the ambience would have been more appropriate if Kenn wasn't busy cursing every car that drove past him. 'Twas cute though.

I haven't touched a cue for month, but luckily I didn't exactly suck. We played a couple of rounds, inserting conversations about hedgehogs and hibernating them in the fridge.

Chris sent me home after an hour or so along with his pretty girlfriend Jessie. It was swell being able to catch up and all, especially on a sacred (as Kenn would put it) day like Kenn's birthday. Happy birthday beanie boy, hope you score a swell fuck soon ;)

Now that I'm back in my own room with the silence of the night all to myself, the fits incident is starting to branch itself out into million of possibilities I simply cannot register. What if I contracted epilepsy? Or is the disease even possible to be contracted like a common flu? What if this goes on? Am I going to faint and fall onto the grainy floor in the middle of a busy traffic? Who? What? How? When?

Why?

I'm scared, because for once I have no control over the process and the outcome.


(Ok Chris sent me a photo of four of us but I LOOK TERRIBLE so I decided to make everyone look terrible.)

Whisky in a teacup.
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Friday, September 15, 2006
1:46 AM

Yet again.

For probably the hundredth time, I'm tired.

I know its something that hangs by my mouth everytime I come back from work but I can't help it. I am at the verge of quitting, but as there are things that tempts my resignation, there are just as many things holding me back. The money, the friends made there, the life I grew to get so familiar with over at Cartel.. I don't know.

The hours are killing me, and I didn't even ask for half of it.

I should stop moaning about work and how I'm feeling all chewed up and spit out. Yes, I should.

But I'm too tired to bitch about anything or anyone else.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Tuesday, September 12, 2006
4:25 AM

Please ignore.

I feel empty.

Hmm, I don't know. I just do. I feel so disconnected from the rest of the world, as if I plucked myself out from the lives of others and justified a space reserved for one. I slog myself at work to please an unappreciative management and the only serenity I derive is from the 4, 5am re-runs of Oprah and Ellen's talkshow.

The only people that are keeping my knees from crumbling to the pressure are my colleagues, the little friends I am left with and my hourly doses of nicotine and tar.

The feeling of being unplugged from everyone else's life has been downright miserable. Cold, mouldy wisps are preventing me from thinking otherwise. I want to quit my job and step once again into the lives of my loved ones, but my situation is giving me every reason to hesistate. I cannot assure that they are willing to re-open doors that I slammed shut and walked out once, furthermore work has been the only thing that has been keeping my urges occupied and taking that away is as good as pulling me into another string of incidents I might live to regret.

Me being happy has always come first ahead everything else, but I am starting to query my beliefs. My actions so far have been telling another story of a life I am foreign to but I am starting to accquire a sense of familiarity and I am afraid everything might end up irreversible.

By then, who am I supposed to turn to when I cannot even recognize myself?

Whisky in a teacup.
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Sunday, September 10, 2006
3:38 AM

Shut up.

Hmm.

A lesbian pub and a gay club in a short span of a Friday night. I am so glad I finally got the night out I deserve. The booze was great (enough to make me fall apart) and the dancing bit was quite the eventful moment to remember.

Work on the following day just crushed every last pieces of aching bones in my body, and the only thing that I could remember instinctively is the immensely obvious lack of sleep. My bar shift was completely a disaster. Orders started piling up like crazy and I already had trouble keeping my eyelids open.

We need another night of drinking soon, Leraine.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Wednesday, September 06, 2006
1:45 AM

Tired.

I'm tired.

I have this nagging feeling that I'm pushing myself to a brink when I'm liable to fall and break. Its not just work, its my life as a whole. Work, home, friends, emotions. I'm bombarded with doubts and answers that don't seem to fit that I have lost track of the things going on around me.

Disappointment comes after a lapse of cheer, leaving me empty and wondering what's coming my way next.

I don't know. Sometimes you just want to force everything out of your mind to make space for a huge disappointment you anticipate in dread. It becomes a cycle, and then your misery starts to make sense. Everything falls into pieces and you know you're crap.

Is this the kind of life I want to get used to? Using work as an excuse to keep myself busy, using friends as an excuse to embrace companionship, using my home as an excuse for a bed to rely on at the end of the day, using people that hardly matter to me to satisfy my internal dysfunction?

It sucks, but someone has got to serve the mudpie.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Tuesday, September 05, 2006
1:45 AM

Burnt out.

Here I am, sitting behind the closed door, 6, 7 steps away from my parents room but yet it feels like a mile away. I guess its a fair trade, I lost the proximity our hearts once used to share but in return I gained some breathing space.

Sometimes I question myself if all that entitled oxygen is worth the relationship I have let slipped out through my fingers and scooped back up again time after time, but I often shake it off with my rigid stubborness.

I don't know. Like I said to my sister, respect is mutual and if I'm not getting any from them, they're getting shit from me.

Buttpie.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Monday, September 04, 2006
3:28 AM

Rubbish.

Its songs like the suite from "The Devil Wears Prada" that makes you want to believe, believe that there is something beyond what the is veiled before our eyes. It is the curiosity that triggers our emotions and their adaptions, leaving us gushed with thoughts and considerations yet action hardly takes place.

It is about our series of thoughts, carefully weaved against one another to portray a web of perception, like a tinted mirror it gives life's ugly disfigurement a new face, a fresh dip.

Don't. Ask. Me. What. That. Was. All. About.

Overworked and underpaid, everything sort of explains for themselves.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Friday, September 01, 2006
1:06 AM

Bad.

The previous two days have been horrible.

I have every possible reason to be joyous, but it seems like that's not going to happen too soon.

Its so clittish I don't even want to blog about it. Hmm, I could get used to this silent war that has invaded my house.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
12:09 AM

Best friends.

You have successfully received C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\My Received Files\12 - Phantom Planet - California.mp3 from absentimental.

FUCK SIA says:
I feel like im in the orange county!!

absentimental says:
oh god shaddup already

Whisky in a teacup.
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Monday, August 28, 2006
11:17 PM

Carolyn (Happy now? :D)

"Today I threw a book in your face. Maybe tomorrow I'll throw a fucking knife."

The exact same words snapped right at the man lying in the room across mine. The man who only plays the role of a father figure when he's well-fed and he's immense male ego is satisfied. Maybe she's right, I do have a life that can give Joakim Gomez a run for his money.

I can't get along with anyone in the family these days. Just when things started to look positive, this big, fat pie has to come crashing right into my face. Its like a vicious cycle that has played on and on ever since I stopped freaking out over sprouting pubic hair. It never ends, and often I make myself believe that its just part of the whole rebellious-teenage-years-and-weird-parents thing but at the rate this cycle has been repeating itself over, and over again - I'm really at a lost what to believe now.

We quarrel, I apologise, we become this big happy family, we quarrel, I apologise... BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Getting back together with them used to be a bittersweet thing because I know finally there will be some sort of peace in the house but on the other hand I'm certain that its not going to last and I will have to unwillingly trudge myself through this whole cycle of shit. The bitterness of the whole situation has taken reign and numbed any amount of sweet lovin left in this family.

You know what's really sad. Its the fact that I'm actually getting used to this revolving pile of shit and cum. Its becoming like a routine to have pins slapped all over my body.

I need a break. Really do.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Hmm.

I'm feeling a tad guilty.

Its hours to my first paper and here I am, listening to Lindsay Lohan croon about her father's dying love (no prizes for guessing song title) whereas my father's in the room opposite of mine, probably trying to invent a digital light bulb or something.

I don't know. Well, don't really want to know either.

Oh look who just barged into my room like the door was locked for an absurd reason. Its mother, with the dog rushing in to grab the toy chicken he left in my room last night and making a dash for it out of the room. Oh and you're just in time for the favourite time of the day, Mother's Lecture. It seems like she just noticed the ashtray in my room and look at her go on and on and on. What a windbag, its a pity we don't have the technology to harvest all that hot air and put it to a good cause.

I think she's finishing.. oh then again no. She's got a whole life story to tell, but sadly hardly a earnest listening ear.

I never thought I'd say this, but I love my house.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Sunday, August 27, 2006
8:38 PM

Something I'll probably regret an hour later.

You've changed.

There was so many things I wanted to spit onto the high and mighty existance you portrayed, but I figured what the hell, at the end of the day even if you don't spell it out I'm still eventually the one at fault. No matter how much I try to voice out my displeasure, it'd be voided out by your "Farah's Right" attitude.

Maybe you caught me at a wrong time, and in fact if you think about it you've constantly been getting to me at the wrong time and place. But then again, I can imagine you going like you always do "I don't really care, Daniel."

Then tell me, what do you care about? Do you even care about me, as a friend?

No I don't think so. I wouldn't degrade someone I care about with harsh sacarsm one after another and then blatantly slap an excuse over it saying "You only react when my words sting." I wouldn't tell my friend I can't be more than bothered to give him the time of the day because I am very contented with my life right now.

I wouldn't. But it seems that you would.

The last time we caught up at Starbucks you were ranting about your new, cool friends. Well hooray for you, Farhanah. In comes the new, do away with the old, am I right? Afterall you often catch yourself in awkward situations where you're so ashamed of friends like me. Well, today has definitely save you the misery of being caught in another sad, sad situation. One crossed off your fucking list, a few others to go. Great job, bitch.

We haven't drifted. I find it a joke that I thought we actually drifted. I was busy with work, school and life. (Oh but you wouldn't care, right?) but I still made at least the slightest effort to pick up pieces I left behind. But you, it seems like you dusted our friendship off your shoulder so as to not shame yourself of hanging out with the unglamorous and once in a while you pick it up so as to inflate your friendly farhanah persona.

Half the things I say here probably don't make sense, but that's the vibe you've been giving me lately. I may be wrong, I may be right. But it doesn't really matter now, does it?

You're probably like "Jeez what a bunch of bollocks that's really mature of him I can't believe we were once friends oh well as long as I get my 14 dollars I'm contented" *dials up cool friend's number to make it into a whole bloody joke*

Well guess what, Farhanah? I'm really sorry we're in such a sorry state right now. And by sorry I don't mean the apologetic kind. Go ahead and continue thinking you're contented with your life now. Well maybe you really are contented, but looking at your sorry figure, you sure are easily pleased.

Suck on this.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Nobody's Business.

Its been a while since I slept on my own bed.

Belongings are cluttered all over the sheets with the ends hanging loose. Bags, underwear, hangers, towels - the thought of clearing it all up is clearly a sore in the pantat. Nowadays I make do with a big, fluffy blanket draped on the floor, a pillow and a bolster. Once I really wanted to take a chance with the bed and shoved everything onto the floor.

Big mistake.

I had to throw everything back up onto the bed the next morning, and I was back at where I started. Nice move, buttpie.

Anyway. (Why did I even discuss about my bed?)

Lepak-ing with Karin at night was definitely something I haven't done for goddamn ages. The solemness of the night set the perfect atmosphere for our heart to heart talks, which is another thing I haven't done for way too long.

Its so easy to talk to Karin, maybe because we're somehow similar at so many personal levels and it comes to a point where although we don't seem to have much to talk about, it feels like I've bared every minute detail of my life to her. (Or then again, maybe I just don't have much going on in my life right now. Holly-hoe.)

Don't get me wrong though. People always have this annoying idea that I like here and all. Yeah, sure I do in fact I love her but as a friend, a lepak partner, a talker, a listener, a fat pincher, yada yada. Sometimes we connect at so many levels it gets funny and I often question my intentions, but what the hell - some questions are just meant to be answered later on in life, or perhaps never. Either way, I don't really care because at 16 - I have the right not to.

And for the first time in months, I have snapped endless shots and saved my camera from degrading into dust. Heavy photoshop applied and once again, when you have a measly 4 megapixel camera - you have the right to photoshop like its your birthday.

Time to wank.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Thursday, August 24, 2006
1:46 AM

I need your grace.

http://i-need-your-grace.blogspot.com

A collection of dirty little fantasies brought to light in a style of flair and stupidity. Mostly erotica, bits and bits of thoughts conjured up in the solemness of the night.

A tribute to whoever seeks a night out alone.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Wednesday, August 23, 2006
1:14 AM

Short.

I'm sad. Feeling wrong and crappy altogether.

I don't know.

I hate goodbyes. They mark the end of something close to my heart, turning it into a mere memory.

Sucks.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Tuesday, August 22, 2006
1:17 AM

Served on shit.

I'm a terrible person. And waiter.

Customer: Hmm those chicken wings on that table looks good. What are they?

Me: Chicken wings.

Customer: They come in four?

Me: No, three.

Customer: But she (the person from the other table) has four.

Me: No she has three.

Customer: Ok fine get me one of those.

Me: Anything else?

Customer: Not at the moment.

Me: Good.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Sunday, August 20, 2006
2:56 AM

Caught up.

"When I was just, a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me.."

The old vinyl record sang its favourite track as the needle scratched across the disc, over and over again. A haunting melody churned out of the gramaphone, its erotica as infectious as a common cold.

Feet were heard shifting across the dance floor as couples swayed alongside to the mesmerizing vocals, faces sunk deeply into each other's shoulder and hands clutching tightly onto their partner's embrace. All was bliss, or so it seems.

**

Dark, a shade of crimson red, as if blood was spilled across.

He could see his distorted reflection wobbling in the bowl of punch. It captivated him, how he could see the reflection of his eyes through his own reflection in the bowl of fruit cocktail. It was a ladle which plunged into the beverage that shook him out of his reverie. He looked up, only to see a man, much more bigger built than him, pouring for himself a greedy serving of punch.

Mr Muscle in tuxedo let out a mock chuckle. "Dateless eh?"

He could see the demented joy in his eyes, as if he lived on sucking the pride out of others. But if there was one thing scraping through 2 years of high school has thought him, it would be that brawn usually comes without brain.

"No, just thirsty."

Mr Muscle started to open his mouth as if he was about to say something, then closed it, shrugged and walk off with half the bowl of punch with him.

A smile spread across his face at the thought of victory, but it was short-lived. He didn't feel like he had won anything at all. He glanced over at Mr Muscle who was chatting up with a bevy of attractive women dressed in gowns so low they might as well just walk around with their breasts bobbing up and down. And here he was.

Alone, with hardly a soul to notice his existence. If he'd dumped the whole bowl of punch over his head and ran around the ballroom, he doubt anyone would notice him.

Heaving a sigh of desperation, he returned his attention back to the fruit punch.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Saturday, August 19, 2006
2:50 AM

Eff.

Ben Harper has the effect cigarattes has on me. Especially when I need to wring my fat little fingers around someone's neck.

An F for Essential Graphics - why am I not surprised? Can't say I'm not disappointed, but its not exactly the end of the world for me. Failing isn't exactly new to me, and I've learnt to accept failure with a pinch of salt.

But sometimes when I'm sinking in so comfortably to failing every little test I take, the salt becomes a bucket's worth.

I fear my ability to take many things for granted sometimes, and when I do so I inevitably overlook many opportunites, leaving myself with a limited amount of choices and that is when the moaning bitch in me arises.

Anyhow, I wished I could be a little more bothered sometimes. Afterall, it is my grade and F doesn't exactly stand for Fabulous. But oh, I don't know.

Fast and furioooooous.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Friday, August 18, 2006
2:00 AM

Dig.

So my father invaded my laptop this afternoon.

Whammy.

And he "claimed" that he accidentally stumbled upon my collection of porn.

Double whammy.

In which contains a couple of straight, gay and bisexual titles.

Fuck.

So right now I'm assuming that he knows about my orientation, one way or another but the conversation we had wasn't as awkward as I assumed it would be. Well, I don't exactly remember what he said, but it was somewhere along the lines of "found gay porn" and "don't get into trouble".

Adults, pffft.

He conveniently ignored all the straight, pussy whacking clips surrounding the one or two happy ones, if you know what I mean. I am 16, and at 16 - porn is the centre of your gratifying universe. People from third world countries are starving and half dead but you really can't think of any good reason to give a flying fuck when you're going through your sixteenth year alive, kicking and with a constant hard-on.

My iPod is starting to bore me. All that angsty emo bah bah raarr shit is starting to sound meaningless and has been tainted by countless repeats on long rides home.

Now all that's bearable in my iPod is Spice Girls and Shakira - the 90s and loving it. Like, vintage lor.

Aye my eyes are starting to droop. Anyhow, if the content in my blog is too explict or liberal for you, shut up and don't read. The last thing I need is another commotion just because I have porn in my computer.

Dig, dig, dig.

Whisky in a teacup.
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Thursday, August 17, 2006
1:18 AM

Hmmmm.

Touch that ass.

I have grown up taking responsibility for others, for myself, for how others feel, for how others suffer; whether in my expense or not. It is something I have grown accustomed to, and to hate.

I never did like seeing people I really love cry, or get angry. Its worse if I'm partly a trigger to their problems and even if I'm not, I still feel responsible to bring up the corners of their lips. The responsibility grows into a burden, and they add up to the load I have heaved over my shoulders. I cannot whine or grumble because I had every opportunity to walk away from a tearing friend, but I didn't.

Maybe I did, once or twice.

But different circumstances brings about different possibilities, and sometimes I'm just too tired with my own problems to be concerned about yours. We all have little secrets shrouded behind the veil we sew painstakingly through the years, and as we age we get better and better in doing so. Lies then erupt, and sins are committed.

Sins so awful I refuse to share. But maybe its because how my morals have been bended and stretched so wantonly for the past few years, I have become to repeat offender I am tonight.

My rice is turning stale and cold, a perfect meal. Goodnight.

Whisky in a teacup.
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