Year: 2016

the deafening of a heartbeat.

ie: something that we have come to be familiar with in so many ways. We are used to the dawning of hope, inceptions of promise — something bland and stupid like love or things that last. Let me tell you that we have seen little bits and pieces of the end, captured the procurement of nihilism and antagonistic self-hatred. We are the beginning of the end, in the stories that should have never been told. i. in the coffee shop. her name is scrawled on, it is generic and placid — just as the life that is reaming within the lines of creamer. her order was taken wrong but she doesn’t say anything against it; the apron-donned mass serves it with apathy, accent ridden from the dwellings of a hundred miles over. stir, the window is tinged with a hue of emerald. stir, the marbling of the floor reminds her of the corner tile she had grown to memorize in her mother’s home. stir, the eyes of the lone student in the corner are as brown …

all the words we could sow

I was supposed to join a spoken word event called Words That Matter, but other things got in the way. I wrote these pieces by asking my friends — “what’s your favorite word?” and  having them expound on it a little bit more. They were all pretty much penned on the day of the event itself, but never got to leave the confines of my phone and the almighty internet cloud. Your favorite word speaks volumes about you. Your favorite word, out of all the other possibilities in the English language — just thinking about how you can isolate a single one and deem it as your own is kind of mind boggling. There are stories. Promises. Memories. All placed behind these words, that people just dare toss around — not knowing how much it can inflict on you, affecting you, taking you. Language is something that I’ve always taken for granted, but have learned to love in a new special way the more I’ve aged. Language is a gift, and to come with words …

a self-orchestrated, half-drunken ramble towards demise

when i was a kid i used to pray every single night. it went something like this: in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, god i love everything. i love all the galaxy and the universes and the stars and the sun and the moon and the planets and the earth and the clouds and the rain and the trees and the dogs and the rollercoasters and the books and the oceans and the sea and the lighthouses and all the food and the people who make the food and the dust and the grass and the rice and the eggs and the houses and the doors and the beds and my grandfather and my grandmother and my yaya and my cousins and mommy and my daddy and my sister and myself. bless us all. i am sorry for everything bad i have done, please help me get better always since i love getting better. i love the world i want to be better. please help me. …

im probably not good at anything but memorizing song lyrics it’s scary once they can really be applied to your life i try and understand experiences and walk in footsteps of people who i have never met, people who ripped out their past for money and fame and an apartment in the middle of the city where they can lie to themselves about what feels like living i’ll never understand until i experience the words. twist overanalyzed wishes when they were just stories and games one day i swore id write my own. be a poet for the masses. the song you hum at the corner of the pew while you pretend to believe in all there is no more sorrys. i understand why people write music. i understand that we are all one and the same. if you know youre wrong why dont you just say it and if you want to sing why pretend that you would do it for me and if on that day the beating sun scorched us and warned …

Five Films

After being given a miraculous one-week term break with no reason behind it whatsoever (and the rest of the school reporting regularly while my batch’s sanctity was saved), it was cue to spend the days making up for the sleep-deprivation and coffee-fueled chaotic days, with of course — self-productivity and amazing films. Here’s a short post on five films that I had really enjoyed and would like to share — I highly recommend each of these, adored different parts of them and saw more than just an average drama in them.

Effete

When the parents of my batch first gleefully announced a mandatory career talk, I marched my way onto the fourth and final classroom of the day. Another Saturday stripped away from us with the promise of a better future. After hearing repeats of things that I have heard over and over again (yes – med school is incredibly difficult but rewarding, no, I am not really going to tell you how I got there but instead let me flash you pictures of my astounding achievements) perhaps the very last class would prove itself different.

the likes of those of old crows

I spent most of today coding a little project and listening to old music. Both activities led to the other. It’s in the dump for now, and you can try it out here. At the moment of writing I only have their ‘middle’ three albums and all of Folie a Deux, since adding songs to the library is boring and tedious and I do not work fast enough because of how easily I get distracted. I justify this project as a ‘little tool’ that helps you search for song lyrics better. Yes, there is Google. But if Google was reliable enough then I would have stuck with it and not made this, right? The core features are pretty much there but not implemented good enough yet — since I have to learn and figure out how to. It lets you search all available albums, toggle some of them out, click on songs to view the full lyrics and highlight your search term within them. That’s it, and it’s only for Fall Out Boy — because …

day 5-6; Inner Mongolia

I learn that I fall in love too easily with things that I’ll never see again. I keep doing so anyway. Overanalyze every detail, take in air over and over again, regret things before the reasons begin to come. Fall in love with nature that has always hidden itself from you that you promise to never lose again, begging to recapture moments and memories in your mind as you had seen them. I am victim to countless mistakes. The backseat of the bus that bets everything on things beyond — never knowing what they’re truly like. This is the second and final part of my trip to Inner Mongolia. A wonderful tour, thoughts to keep forevermore and photos to stare at longingly. Apparently, long bus rides are a thing that I enjoy now.

day 1-4; Inner Mongolia

I visited Inner Mongolia at the end of July to participate in a Robotics competition. Aside from the sleepless nights, team huddled together in a hotel room with the scent of soldering and endless talking until the words seem to get so muffled and lost, unable to understand anything and everything – realizing we take language for granted — it was beautiful. Waking up every single day to a beating sun that reminded one of home only to be swept with a foreign breeze that was far too cold to be named familiar.