in the woods

ssh. hush. can you hear it?

there it is again. listen.

quiet now.

do you hear it?

there it is. there it is again.

it sounds like...like...

they're crying. can you hear tears? they're crying. one, two, three, four, five,...

wait.

i hear something else.

listen.

who i am, truly

i appear as

friendly,
outgoing,
caring,
polite,
considerate,
fun,
kind,
etc.

but really, i am

selfish,
self-centered,
self-indulgent,
vengeful,
spiteful,
callous,
etc.

i'm reading character analysis by wilhelm reich. (reich is a psychiatrist, and the book is a compilation of his theories and studies.) after reading several of the case studies presented, i come to realise who i truly am.

apparently, sometimes, character traits are known as character resistance that acts as an armour to protect one's self. to recognise the difference (if it's a genuine character trait or a symptom) requires knowledge and experience (and a certificate, which i do not have).

it hasn't been very nice for me (either). and like one of his patients, it seems that i've been influenced into becoming who i am today. i've made myself a guard and i've been putting it on since. it's an unconscious effort. i only see the final product. but it's all a result of my infantile experience. my childhood and growing up facing the adversities has "toughened" me up by taking away and hiding the vulnerability and creating in its place something more hostile and to cover that up it creates a character resistance that opposes it. 

"the passive feminine characetr is an example of a third type of armouring. on the surface, he appears to have an acquiescent and mild disposition, but in analysis we get to know it as an armouring that is difficult to dissolve." (wilhelm reich) 

it's complex and deeply multi-layered in the unconscious mind. in short, i'm lost within myself and that's what been making it hard for me to stand firm my ground.

all these may not be necessary, or relevant. but i've been feeling empty and hollow. and i just want to fill it up without forking out any money. of course, i do have to be extremely careful or i might end up killing myself, literally.

wish me luck!

from stoker to meyer

why are vampires so sexy? that instead of running away from them, i so want them to suck me (my blood, i mean)!

from stoker to meyer, they just get sexier!

it's one of the greatest porn ever made. think about it.

so screw righteousness and prejudice against gayism, vampirsm is indicative of such moral hypocrisy existing in our society. this vein runs through us all.

it is the act of bringing out this fantasy is what causing our desire to relentlessly repress our need to be accepting of what we are - sexual beings. conversation on sex are left for the intimacy of a smaller group of people. it is not an appropriate conversation topic when we're among many people. this irony is cultured through time and before long it becomes an unspoken rule; silenced.

i think sex talk make us feel naked, and undesirable; who wants to appear naked in public?

but whatever it is, if i see a vampire as hot as brad pitt (was), i'll surrender myself.

you see, i see the image as form of approval for us to indulge in sin and not feel guilty. we simply think about it, let it out and we watch it. as if we're a medium for all this sex, and we don't actively participate in the process.

well, we did. but watching it is passive. it's less wrong, but twice as fun. just like porn.

our health is based on our sexual gratification (freud). so as long as we feel sexually satisfied, active or passive, we're happy (studies have shown that it's the same ecstacy).

and i'm so gay about it!

when reading a book

when i am reading a book, a fiction book, i am now more aware of the writer's style and treatment of how s/he wishes to write. i guess i got it from dr s (the sensitivity part); she's a great teacher and i love to be taught by her.

the way the writer writes is heavily influenced by his/her culture. i notice this after reading books by eastern writers (the translation): murakami and toto chan write differently from jhumpa lahiri, likewise for orhan pamuk and catherine lim. but novelists from the same culture has got similar style. the general feel is similar, but, of course, personal style differs.

then i began to wonder about western writers. they differ too! murdoch writes different from atwood and auster.

this realisation made me excited to read more books by different writers from different cultures. it's showed me how powerful natural langauge is, and how much one's mother tongue influences one's thinking and aquisition of second and subsequent language - but this is for another time.

(perhaps, it's because of this my english "sounds" clumsy and i keep bashing myself about it.)

of course they're people gifted with the ability to acquire language quickly and communicate well in the respective language "rules". meaning when they speak english, it's neutral and not accented by their mother tongue. when they write in english, it "sounds" english.

this was what i realised when reading the translation of the writer's work. the japanese essence of murakami's works is retained in the translation, and the same goes for pamuk's. so although it has been translated to english, the essence of the original language the literature was written in is kept and that is important in understanding the writer's background and subsequently the culture s/he grew up in. it tells of the bigger story and the history of the anthology. isn't that just fascinating?!

what i'm good at

if everyone has something they're good at, then i think i know mine: i'm good at creating drama.

but is this ok?

my story

this is my story.

once upon a time there was a boy. to him, he is ordinary. however, little did he know that being different - both on the inside and outside - would make a difference to how he is going to be as he is growing up.

like any other boy, he was sent to school. on the first day, he realised that not everyone likes him. but he didn't think much of it and continue making friends. and he did make friends. they were not many, and he wished he has, but they were enough.

then one day, he was...touched. by his own cousin. his cousin is a growing male teenager with raging hormones and heaps of curiosity to try out and know more about new things. now, this little boy is "soft" and young. he didn't know what was happening but what he did know was that it was enjoyable. he wasn't sure if he was enjoying it but it was enjoyable. the touching didn't happen just once. they happened severally.

a few years later, the boy started to realise another thing: he is attracted to boys. then he thought back of all the incidents that happened after the touching and this new realisation. his fantasies were that he was the girl being touched by the boy. it made him think.

the thought lingered on for a few more years later. he started to drop hints and showed certain signs, all while trying to be as discreet as possible. meanwhile, he was trying to grasp the matter himself. and fearing for his safety, he didn't tell anyone, not even his family.

when the boy was sixteen, the "new thing" became apparent to him. (much later he got to know that) people around him began to confirm their suspicion behind his back. at this age, too, he started to explore himself and understand what was going on.

he went on several dates. none of them went very well and because of that he decided to give dating a break.

at the age of eighteen, he came out to some of his friends. he told only those he could trust and (especially) those who would remain neutral about it. it wasn't an easy thing to do. but he was glad he did.

eversince then, he has been curious of what it was like to be different. articles, news, stories related to him caught his interest and he started reading extensively on the subject matter. he searched for people whom he can talk to and help him understand better. the more he got to know about it, the more at peace he becomes. and he stopped giving reasons and excuses to himself. he started embracing them.

he didn't know that by meeting people and letting himself into "the circle" would make any difference. initially, he lust over the men he talked to. now, he could talk to them casually. it gave him a very good feeling.

taking in what is different is never easy. but that's the hardest part.

(if only his family has the same thinking. he would've let them in a lot sooner.)

ps: this is my first time telling the story public

it is called "not taking it to heart"

i have been thinking.

i was thinking about who i am and how i am to other people. i don't know how they see me and i'm quite curious to know.

this is why: i am the guy that no one invites to birthday parties, gatherings, or just for company. it truly and deeply saddens and devastates me that i'm left out from all those. it made me wonder who am i to them?

am i a friend or just some person they know? have i done enough or nothing at all? or do they think i'm too busy with other people or the things i do? i don't know, honestly. and i would like to, if i could.

i guess it's because i've chosen not to actively go out and force such things (friendships / relationships). this is who i am. i don't want to change it. i don't want to be someone else anymore. it's taken me very long to understand myself and who i can be. i am comfortable.

after saying this, i feel...nothing. because i've gone through this before and i've learnt to comfort myself by saying that hey! i got me! *smiles (and i genuinely smile)

so, if it doesn't bother me then why am i making it (sound) as such? because i wanted to let it out and make it incumbent to feel guilty (because this is what it's all about).

it makes me feel guilty that i'm not spending more time with other people. it makes me feel guilty they don't feel like they matter to me. it makes me feel guilty i don't make them feel i matter to them. it makes me feel guilty that i put myself down by intrepidly telling my inferior self i am not good enough a friend. it makes me feel guilty i am worth-less than their other friends. it makes me feel guilty how i undercut myself. so it has got to stop. i am stopping this right now.

not everything is about friends. not everything is about the outside and the extension of myself. i am an actor (and i can now call myself an actor). i have a job, and that is to unattached my emotions.

i am feeling better. i don't have to take it to heart unless i want to anyway. it is a choice. and i choose.

i was thinking of the moon

i was thinking of the moon. i was thinking of the moon before i thought of you.

it has been days since i last spoke of you. how have you been? i sent you a prayer not too long ago. here, i just sent for another. wait for it. listen.

the moon looks nice tonight doesn't it? it's plain obscure self hiding - hidden - from what it doesn't wish to see. maybe it's afraid. maybe it's afraid of its own shadow.

the glass feels nice tonight; as if it's a piece of velvet cut from a long....

i can see the moon on the glass but not the glass on the moon. i see you. but do you see me?

the reason i go to school

i go to school because i want to study. i want to study very hard and make my mummy and daddy happy. my mummy and daddy always told me that i should not be lazy because lazy people will not be happy. my friend g is lazy, and he looks happy. my mummy and daddy are not lazy but they don't look happy.

i go to school because i want to see my friends. i have many friends. we like to talk to each other. we talk to each other on so many things and for very long. one day, i heard some the girls talk about some of the very cute boys in school. i was interested.