Eleven Stripes – Two Angles

my two thousand word e-mail.

2010-10-27T04:32:00.001-07:00

One last rant. I promise I wouldn't but I had to. Sorry love.

because hearing "you guys look cute together." was starting to hurt.

-

probably should've said this instead, last night.

I am dumb. and slow. i know that.

I'm an idiot for not realizing it or not brave enough to want to say anything sooner. i know that now.

And I'll be honest, I got scared.

I got scared from all the uncertainty I had from before; so I had to make sure that it's certain this time. I got scared because you've had a long history with whom I know I can't compete - even when I look at photos of you two, I feel like I'm in a fight I can't win. I got scared because you're very confident and friendly, even though I love that about you, subconsciously it made me think otherwise whenever I thought "okay maybe she does like me."

You're unbelievably smart, young, gorgeous, have this amazing smile, fun to talk to and I genuinely loved hanging out with you - seriously, you made grocery shopping fun. honestly, we went to buy kitty litter and i had fun.

the only other person that i can relate so well was, God rest her soul, M.

Lastly, I got scared because it's been a while since I've actually liked someone as much as I like you and I didn't want to scare you off by saying anything too soon.
Or maybe because it's been such a long while, I couldn't express as much as I wanted too. or even know how to.
Maybe I'm just not charming or charismatic. I'm not that type of guy.

I got scared and I was too late. i know that now, i know that now.

I.O
it felt brief but i enjoyed every minute of it. i'll miss you.
p.s. thank you again for the surprise slice of cake. it made my year.

an early (good)bye

2010-07-21T08:26:00.000-07:00

Alas, the twoangles project has reached its premature end. yes D, we only did 60 posts - sorry.

The story of twoangles came from a very unoriginal concept, the idea of two completely two different individuals perspectives on life.

One, the guy whom in his journey to find comfort in understanding and forging self-definition, had self-proclaimed driven to boredom by conforming decisions and mediocrity expectations - dwindled by the notion of que sera sera (what will be, will be).

The other, the young lady blessed by her own need of understanding herself by understanding others, travel to great distant homes and welcoming arms of loved ones and newly kindled friends. Which in results made her sought for more questions than answers - what is love?

The twoangles project has ended merely because it has exhausted to its expiring date. Not to vast hours of arguments, deceit or lies but just another project that has run its course.

To those who has supported, Aimi, Freida, Mish, Abigail, David S, Berlin, Farahin, Fatina, Careena, Sam, Sabrina, Josephine, Fiza, Faisal (Pecai), Syue, Kat, Vie, Edmond, and many others whom we have just probably forgot to mention (sorry about that we'll make it up to you on your birthday);

Thank you so much for actually reading our rants and mumbles. Sorry if we ever offended/hurt anyone. we are but misguided fools.

We love you.

I.O
M

because hello was never enough

2010-05-17T05:24:00.000-07:00

Morning after morning,

We've been placed in this unwanted routine - resolving one mishandled problem at a time; only to face more as the previous finishes.

A friend once said,

"The only reason why the old reminisce memories of younger days is because they're bored."

Followed by several hints and references that we are old.

While it may just be more redundant fears of losing time, it's troubling how our yesteryears had been more eventful than we are now. and some of us weren't given the luxury of traveling sixteen countries for "research". shuttup.

So this is my plea.

For goodness sake, let something interesting happen soon.

I.O
t.b.c

the avetha painting

2010-04-22T22:53:00.000-07:00

"There are always two blank pages within my books - the first and the last page. I left them empty for all of you to flourish your own beliefs or draw blood."

David S.

-

The Avetha Painting was a piece done by an artist's obsession with expressing his passion, influences and trauma in a single painting.

Nothing new right?

Level Six.

At a brick apartment with a giant blank grey wall on the western side, he stood facing it, staring at a row of very thin paper placed side by side spanning from one end of the wall to the other. Behind him, stood a wooden table filled with an array of paint and brushes at his disposal.

He knew I was here to see him but never acknowledge my presence; as if swallowed in his own thoughts. For hours he stood there where the only movement he had was to his head pivoting left to right.

But then a flinch.

Picking up everything he needed, he ran to the farthest right empty sheet and started dabbing it with paint. As if a man possessed, his painting began. For days and nights, all his energy was spent on this painting.

Why am I here? You might be wondering by now.

His fixation was nothing new to us. A psychological aftermath of a trauma? Random strokes of genius? All there is to know for me is that I'm here to make sure he stays alive. Night after night at the very center of the table, a single bowl of wholewheat noodles and a glass of sugar water is placed. After every morning, it's emptied.

Six days and six nights, he took.

Each sheet of paper by itself were already beautiful pieces of artwork. All of them different than each other - without a single recurring theme. However if viewed from right to left, each painting's tone had slowly began to be darker and darker.

Standing there in full view, I watched him as he took down one painting at a time in a random order. Every single one was dabbed with water by hand and placed on top of each other - slowly and at precised locations. 'the devils of details', he once said.

It was then left laying there for three days as he took his much needed rest.

Today.

I stared at the painting which can only be described as a beautiful feminine structure with her right arm across her chest holding her left hand as she picks up a maroon flower. Behind her were wings-like contours drawn using words with a light scenery on one side slowly turning into a dark gloom on the other.

As he awoke from his long slumber, he stood next to me in silence.

"Who is she?" I asked.

"She was my obsession - my love." He replied.

two years ago, there was an incident.
his once then fiancé had died as victim of a hit and run whom which he had unwillingly become a full witness to. the perpetrator was never found.

the avetha painting.
by M

"smart conversations"

2010-04-14T02:52:00.000-07:00

dean cafe. coffee with a workaholic.

"Seriously! What's the point of all these complicated math equations?"

"Okay then. You tell me, what's the point of 'Hey There Delilah'?"

silence.

desperacy, an episode with the wonderful freida

2010-04-02T05:52:00.000-07:00

"You have one of those moments where all you do is consider about life, then there are those times when life considers you."

M

-

An afternoon with freida y. long overdue, sorry.

To be graced by the ever so elegant madame freida was no uncommon occurrence where a typical afternoon with you usually meant us babbling about random crap we could think of.
Unlike any other day however, that day, you decided to tell me your stories. not after several sidetrack occurrences.

To place my own input in your stories would've been meaningless because just from your own chosen words and expressions (deja vu?), I could tell you had made your decision and you are more than content with it.

However,

For the guilt of not writing, it is inexcusable. Despite the lack of material, your genius writing brain of yours and self-placed writer's block, I'm sure we can come up with something better than today's modern movie produced. see what i did there?

So here's to more photos, awkward lame jokes, and mind-boggling riddles. Hope to see you again soon.

For those still wondering what's the answer, it's:

"Three generations. A grandfather, a father and his son."

you're welcome.
I.O

guten abend!

2010-03-18T08:28:00.000-07:00

"So how does it feel like living a semi-minimalist (seminimalist?) lifestyle?"

"It's not too bad. I try to do things as minimal as I possibly can."

I.O

places, dreams and adventures

2010-03-10T05:53:00.000-08:00

After quite some time promised, Thousand £ Bend with the female Robert Langdon.

-

For once, no dramas nor stories. Just the humble company of a friend, caffeine, and an indie atmosphere.

However, I did bring along a new gift, technically more of unused than 'new', from abroad along with me. An all-in-one/travel moleskin which contains various maps of San Francisco and in it were few doodles already drawn.

After your 'skinny' latte arrived, you spoke of your own little personal project called the 'Lunch Box series'. Which is based on (how original) a tin lunch box you had bought which had stickers on it and the adventures you and 'it' will have. or something like that, sorry.
Coming from someone who studied history and literature, Islamic civilization and looks like a post-grad student; I couldn't tell if you were joking or actually serious.

So I gave you the moleskin,

"Pick a page and write something."

You laughed and actually said you used to this a long time ago back before you actually grew up and that it was childish.
After a while and after I actually said "I got color pencils", you decided to write something in glee but not before drawing a rainbow.

And so you wrote,

"It's okay to look back, it's not going to bite."

with a drawing of a mouth actually biting the word 'bite'. Followed by "I'm just a happy person ok..." and a signature.

a piece which will surprise people because it wasn't drawn by a twelve year old.

I look forward in watching your Lunch Box series turn into a movie, Yon.

I.O

'tears of my lyla'

2010-03-01T03:04:00.000-08:00

Perhaps this is my story.

Today, I've made my peace. With? My own impossibility.

-

'Picture-perfect' nights.

I sat there looking at you.

You stood there for hours, staring at the paintings - wearing them down with your eyes.

To me, this gallery was no different than the other ones we've seen and definitely one I wouldn't visit more than once. Nothing fancy - white brick walls with a crack window at the entrance and in it stood an array of painting, sculptures, poetry and photography from a local prodigy.

You name it, the prodigy has probably thought about it. Cubism, Goth, Shakespearean, Arctic-wisdom, Palladionism, Novelistic - every seven degrees of contrast, done. Impressive but not of my liking.

Not to mention, they were insanely pricey. to me atleast.

But it was different for you.

Each one, captivated you as you analyze them - frame by frame. For hours you stood there, talking to yourself as if by talking to the artwork, you were able to understand it. To you, they were all familiar - all of them had the same face.

As I sat there looking at you looking at the picture. I finally understood why.

Each one of it was dedicated for you. Each one of it was inspired by you. Every single one was of you.

You didn't just know this 'prodigy', you're a part of him. with love.

"brilliance" written by I.O & M.

an outlet

2010-02-19T06:16:00.000-08:00

one of those cross-continent greetings. a life experience told,

a tale of a friendship, that ended. c'est la vie.

-

We all need an outlet - a person.

A person whom we can let our aggression out, our frustration, sadness, misery, pain, and devastation. Someone who would congratulate us for our success, achievements, and overall happiness. Someone when we talk to, doesn't blank out after every third sentence.

Someone who'd heed our troubles when we weren't asking.

Unfortunately, it can't be any two-bit potato you met on a myspace thread (inside joke) because odds are they won't look twice at you if you cross paths after the first meeting. No! The bond between you and your outlet can't be forged; it is synced from an unforced source. It can be between star-crossed lovers, next-door neighbors, a parent and their child, childhood friends after long unseen. almost anyone.

Perhaps, even between two strangers ordering the same cup of coffee every Saturday morning.

As easily as this bond could be discovered, it is just as fragile for it to be destroyed. Oh. and trust me, it changes you.

Without an outlet, it makes you solid.

For every sentiment of emotion, the only output would be a rigid response. A nervous laughter to an uncanny joke. A forced smile to an otherwise cheerful moment. A stun silence to the embrace of a beloved friend.

Leaving you cold. nothing but cold.

"Today, I have made mistakes. Yes, I've made my mistakes." -Seventh

I need an outlet. seriously.

I.O
inspired by 'Seventh Entry - Days and Nights"

scirocco

2010-02-13T06:35:00.000-08:00

"James. Why wouldn't a madmen stare through a window in the morning?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because he wouldn't have anything to do in the afternoon."

TG

so tonight i'll be your brooklyn

2010-02-12T06:25:00.000-08:00

eighty-eight keys. each stroke, each touch is like a masterpiece of grand brilliance.

her seamless motion of elegance and novelized beauty.

"so tonight i'll be your Brooklyn."

-

I hope to see you soon.

whether, it's that quite hum of silent nights or lonely air, it's a welcoming escape.

because the next best thing, other than being part of this game, is to witness its play.

just to see how this all began,
to watch your tear-ridden eyes of joy and laughter,
to hear your brilliance in all its array,

would be enough for his content; so corny and so far away.

so let this be my escape - let it be my fire escape.
because you're not fond of me and I'm not fond of you.

so tonight i'll be your Brooklyn.

Just tell me what you want for me to say.

I.O
M

self-rendition of brooklyn

plea of the fourth

2010-02-03T01:13:00.000-08:00

"And hush will I whisper;
in these query winters' night -
in this restless opine blight;

the monarchy returns,
solace is here."

M

rising of 'invincible'

2010-01-30T06:47:00.001-08:00

Another project is in the 'woodwork'. Regular programming shall return soon.

For now, here's a tile of the mosaic project - invincible.

Invincible.MP3 on Rapidshare

the new mantra

2009-12-31T05:25:00.000-08:00

the roar of fireworks thunder through my glass wall marking the new year. not to mention the Shaun Micalleff's New Year Rave show on TV doing the countdown as well.

-

The clock ticks and a new day begin - a new year. (familiar?)

The new year has nothing 'new' exactly about it. You're still in the same job the following week, your bank balance doesn't just magically grow, and the sky is still blue.

But I have this childish view of the new year.

More of a school kid point of view; where you move up to a new grade, to new classes, and of course, new friends. Just this sense of a new beginning; a fresh start even? everyone knows we all need one.

I mean looking back, it wasn't so horrible. could say, it was pretty good.

I met a lot of new and colorful people. Rekindled with long loved-and-missed ones. yes, you. and you. but not you.

Went close to the sun and got burnt. Poisoned hearts and witness others' new found happiness.

And not to forget, learning more lessons in life. like a new found love for cappuccino.

et cetera.

To say it was a bumpy ride would be an understatement for everyone (oh yeah) but I'm sure somewhere along the way, we all had fun. And what's done is done! Why bother asking 'what if' right? (familiar - again?)

As for the new year? What's my new years resolution?

I'm bringing one advice a dear, dear friend told me to the new year and making it my new mantra.

We sat down and as he was telling me his stories, he ended with:

"Every good opportunity skipped, is an opportunity wasted. No matter how small it is."

It was then followed beautifully by, "So don't be a little choosy and scared prick. Go for it.". lovely

And with that, it's time for me to run up and down Swanston Street.

So here's to another better year!
We crossed that thin line, don't try to hold us here.

"Get up, get out. This is your wake up call."

written by I.O and M.

all that's left is ink

2009-12-24T05:50:00.000-08:00

it's just one of those moments, where all you do is stare blank into space and wonder.

-

December 24th. 6pm.

One of the few rainy days in Melbourne's summers. Spent gazing through a first floor glass wall into the streets below (a new forced habit nowadays) as people rush in and out of the train station. Grasping a mug of Sprite with fingers inked in black; nothing but blank thoughts.

This sucks.

A lot of people have this idea of sitting back and let the flow of life move you. I'm one of em. And it's been a mantra for most of us for ages.

Que Sera Sera, what will be, will be.

The laymen idea of living. But seriously, its fucking boring.

A few days back, a dear friend, was glowing in a meeting. Not from radiant beauty (while she is) but from sheer progress and achievements. Deep stories of great career/educational and social success.

There's gonna be a few of you who'd think I'm talking about you. It's not you, it's ALL of you.

Now I'm not being jealous. I'm happy for all of you. seriously.

But there'd be a part of our conversation where you'd say, "What have you been up to lately, love?"

And to be honest, I couldn't find anything positive to say. So now back to the current day, that question still lingers.

The only proper response I would always say was reminded by the black ink at the edge of my fingertips; reminding me that the only achievement I could be proud of was the drawings I've been doing for the past couple of months.

Yup, the ones that twenty other people are on as well.

In conclusion, today I had a revelation on how boring I am; to the point that I am bored of myself.

So here's to next week's post, the new mantra.

Cheers.

oh, and happy holidays!
sorry for the emo rant; won't happen again.

human evolution

2009-12-16T00:56:00.000-08:00

The idea of evolution is simple.

Darwinism, those species that were able to evolve or adapt to changing circumstances were the ones that would survive and those who weren't equip or rendered 'evolutionary dead-ends' were destined to die.

If you're in a camp with a bunch of campers and a bear attacks, you don't have to be faster than the bear. You only have to be faster than the slowest camper.

by Michael Ruppert. 'Collapse' (2009)

theirs but to do and die,

2009-12-08T18:16:00.000-08:00

half a league, half a league,
half a league - onward,
all in the valley of death
rode six hundred:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said;
into the valley of death
rode six hundred.

'Forward the Light Brigade!'
was there a man dismay'd?
No tho' the soldiers knew

Some one had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of death, rode six hundred.

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. "The Charge of the Light Brigade"

fall of the arisen, part two

2009-12-07T01:58:00.000-08:00

similarity in difference, chapter thirty-two

This building stood for greatness for generations. Brilliance over brilliance for brilliance. Along these halls stood faces each different from the other, placed for their successes way beyond human expectations. Laid anonymous except for those who seek us.

In the center of the foyer stood a bronze and copper plaque, which said:

Our wisdom bear burdens to these walls and our knowledge shall lay bear our liberty - our stability.

Or at least, that's what they told me it translated to. Archaic.

-

So you were shunned; at no one's fault but you're own.

The winds felt calm up here; like a light but chill spring breeze balanced from the hint of warmth luminescence of the sun. The only reason of my presence up here are but merely as a temporary overseer - ruler by pen, as they say.

And you stood there; for the last time.

"Do you want me to explain?" You plead.

I gave you nothing but a faint sigh. Hmmph.

"I didn't want to . . ." You tried to continue, stopped as I turn to face you.

"You act as if I cared. We were there.

In the face of everyone here, you spoke so confidently, so convinced. In every word, you stood your ground. Base only but from a whisper of a right-hand, you spoke in tear-shed and sorrow.

Betrayal. Lies really.

There was no betrayal, in fact the only presence for the idea of betrayal began right after you mentioned it. And when you were called upon, you denied everything. Deciding to point finger to the liar despite words you said weeks before.

The coup never existed - never began. You created the coup, you created your own betrayal."

written by M. edited by I.O.
"based on Eon Rose and Methodical."

brunch with genii

2009-12-01T18:23:00.000-08:00

cappuccino. three chairs and two moleskins.

-

"Do you believe in alternate universes/dimensions?" You said. the physicist.

"I guess so. In theory, it's plausible." I replied. in mind - sure I'll bite.

"You're right, in theory that is.

The common perception of alternate dimensions where everything is a complete opposite of the current existence around us (black is white, white is black) and that these dimensions are separated from the ones we live in. That's one theory.

However, there are some physicists that actually believe these dimensions aren't separated at all. Instead, in our understanding, there are actually infinite number of dimensions that overlay one another to form this web of eclectic change. " You explained.

"So in a way, they're linked?" I asked; in a vague attempt at understanding.

You moved closer towards the table and open your moleskin to a blank page where a blank Lamy pen was sitting, ready to be scribbled.

"Yes and No.

While they are basically slight vary from one existence to another, there are some that could be affected by a drastic occurrence and some wouldn't. Nevertheless, the change could be very minuscule but otherwise similar in any other way possible.

Would you like an example?"

You looked at me with a page filled with circles linked resembling the Olympics logo.

I nodded with a crooked smile as you quickly turn the page and began scribbling. sure.

"Okay. Hmm..

As a child, I've always had a passion for math and science, you know that. (Yup.) But I've always had a keen interest in engineering and how things work mechanically and had never pursue that interest.

In theory, in another dimension, I did.

Or another example,

You know how we couldn't decide whether to go here or that other place you wanted to show me but we ended up heading here because it closer. (Mhmm.)

In theory, everything lead up to that moment was exactly the same but we ended up going to the Thousand Blend, the place you wanted to show me." You said as you stared at me with high eyebrows in hopes I finally understood.

"So what you're saying is every decision, every possibility, every left instead of right turns,

Everything that could/should/would have happened, did happened somewhere?"

I replied.

"Precisely." You nodded.

written by I.O.

p.s. "So there's a dimension somewhere out there where Hitler could be ruler of the world?" M said.

and so we were summoned; as counselors, arbiters.

2009-11-20T02:19:00.000-08:00

"We are different, in almost always every way possible.
The few similarities that we have is that we were taught to listen. To just listen."

-

Sometimes it seems that we weren't given the choice to choose what we learn. But we do, actually.

In school, we're driven. Pointed to a direction, the people who bestowed us there pray that we remember the steps we took along the way. For the most part, we do remember. However, when the time comes for us to recall them and we can't, it's not that we don't know it, it's just that we choose to remember things that we want to remember.

As counselors, we were taught many things.

We were taught never to judge and while that we are entitled to our opinions, at the end of the day, we're not facing their horrors of life. Or at least, not yet.

We were taught to understand. While some actions may seem condemned, we are there to understand their perspectives and their standings. For darkness is not evil, until we believe it is.

We were taught to listen. For them to tell us their stories, the least we could do is listen - an outlet. And we do ask questions, we're only to ask for a clearer picture, elaboration or their opinions.

There's one thing we're not taught. Instead, there's one thing we are meant to believe.

We're meant to believe that there is goodness in everyone; that everyone has the right to a second chance.

but we know that's a lie.

M

there is no blood in betrayal

2009-11-13T04:12:00.000-08:00

Lies are a common part of life;

it's the 'archivist for three years' we place in our resumes,
it's the stories we tell kids to avoid them from harm,
it's that 'why yes i am a doctor' pick up line we use every Friday night.

We use it all the time, for both good and evil - it exists.

For the most part, it means no harm. Its purpose is to withheld the truth and we all know that. The moment it becomes harmful is when we choose to believe it; the moment the lie becomes the truth is the moment when we decide to fool ourselves.

Like an idiot chasing a mirage while completely aware of the mirage itself.

So the moment YOU chose the confident liar over the stuttering truth, it's the moment you choose to live a lie.

Cheers.

fall of the arisen, part one

2009-11-03T18:17:00.000-08:00

morning after, chapter twelve

They said to me, close your eyes long enough and you'll see the world spinning (in chaos).

-

I woke up to witness the sun beaming between the blinds, pulsating due to the rapid cloud movements of Melbourne's spring weather.

Sat up at the side of my bed with my hands covering my face. Headache; as words from previous agendas echo over. and over,

I felt betrayed..

. . . someone who has done so much and trusted upon.

. . . 'a mutiny' of ten including one of us.

My head still trying to wrap over the idea of what just happened, more importantly, why. There was a time when we were called 'elites' (elitists).

November first.

And so we were gathered.

Usually something of this significance would be the result of a face-to-face meet but in the light of this urgency, I attended in a digital way that my era had provided with - webcam. Bear in mind that gathering of this sorts does not occur commonly, so when we were summoned, we expected melancholy.

Though my presence was more of a formality than actual necessity, what was told had more questionable assumptions than actual rationality. It was not a question of who was wrong or right but which story had more holes and false providence than the other.

"one of you." she said. one of us.

written by I.O.

inoperable tumor

2009-10-30T21:44:00.000-07:00

"I survived a war did you know that?

I survived a war where they put bodies into mass graves where there was once a playground.

I survived the deaths of family; my parents, my brothers, my sisters. Then I survived the death of my wife and child where they starved to death in a refuge camp.

I survived the lost of my country - of hearing my mother tongue spoken of and knowing what it feels like to have a place to call home.

I survived.

And I will survive the lost of my legs. If I have to, I'll survive it, okay?

But Derek."

"Yes?"

"There's always a way.

When things looks like there's no way, oh, there is a way. To do the impossible, to survive the unsurvivable, there's always a way.

And you...

You and I have this in common - we're inspired. In the face of the impossible, we're inspired.

So If I can offer one piece of advice to the world's foremost neurosurgeon;

today if you become frightened, instead become inspired."

-isaac, grey's anatomy.

ted mosby, architect

2009-10-29T21:01:00.000-07:00

The great moments of your life won't necessarily be the things you do, they'll also be the things that happen to you.

Now I'm not saying you can't take action to affect the outcome of your life, you have to take action, and you will. But never forget that on any day, you can step out the front door and your whole life can change forever.

You see the universe has a plan kids, and that plan is always in motion.

A butterfly flaps it wings and it starts to rain. It's a scary thought but it's also kind of wonderful. All these little parts of the machine constantly working, making sure that you end up exactly where you're suppose to be, exactly when you're supposed to be there.

The right place at the right time.

-himym

to friendly hellos and pleasant goodbyes

2009-10-24T02:06:00.000-07:00

Thousand Bend. Sunday afternoon.

We rarely do sit together and talk over a cup of coffee. pleasant companies are always welcome.

We spoke a fair bit. Mainly updating each other on our own lives and how amazed we were that the tables had turned on most of us. How those who were were singles back then happen to be the ones that are dating now and those who used to be dating, aren't anymore.

But it wasn't all about sappy lovey-dovey stories and kyoot! moments, there were talks about general ideas and life itself as well. However, our conversation just tasted different compared to our previous meets.

It's just your sense of content that left me pondering.

From someone who had faced so much at one time and finally getting what you deserve - happiness; and some freakin' stability.

I felt rather embarrassed telling you my stories. After hearing myself explaining it to you, the stories itself felt rather minuscule; sounding more idiotic than the complex/dramatic version rolling over in my head exploded to giant proportions than it actually was - a common habit I need to unlearn. hehe

Oh! Not to mention, you've given the best reaction to my story than anyone else I've told, "You did what?!".

well, to another lovely spring day then.

Cheers.

to someone we love,

2009-10-22T06:35:00.000-07:00

I don't usually mention names but this post is dedicated to Sam. A., someone who has helped most of us a lot.

We here at Eleven Stripes wish you a speedy recovery and would like you to know that our prayers/support are always here for you.

Get well soon. :)

With love,

stripes

you'll never know til you try, right?

2009-10-21T18:49:00.000-07:00

"Describe your ideal woman?"

"Well, I could describe about her 'til who knows when. But the real question is whether or not I'm her ideal man."

fourteen roof plans

2009-10-19T21:00:00.000-07:00

I'm trying my goddamn best here.
The least you could do is meet me halfway.

"Or tell me why not, I deserve that at least."

entitled, irrational integrity

2009-10-19T06:03:00.000-07:00

Laurent. 2 p.m. -ish.

Not really a fan of vegetarian food, but for you I'll make an exception. They do make great cappuccinos.

Despite it being spring here, the weather still felt like it was winter.

You beckon me over to table outside facing an alley where office workers were lining up to grab their lunches. You sat there with your latte at hand as you stare blankly at your tiny black notebook.

"What are you reading?"

"It's nothing." You answered, as you tucked the book beneath you palm on the table. "It's a memory book; from teenage diary entries to drunken scribbles."

Small talk. Was never really good at it.

We spoke a fair bit. Followed by several laughs and then silence. You opened up your notebook and flipped through several pages as I stare into blank space.

"Here. Write something." You said, as you gave me the opened notebook and a blue pen.

It was an empty page. The page next to it had a familiar hand-writing with an ink mark of only few pens would make. It writes,

" Our scars are not only meant to show our wounds; but how we had recover from them as well."

As I read it, I gave a slight smile and said, "Did she.." You nodded with a big smile by the side.

However, I didn't write anything but I promise you, next time I will. You gave me a disappointed look. I turned the book and pointed at the written page and said,

"I told her that."

written by I.O.

the reason we are not strong

2009-10-17T23:44:00.000-07:00

Depicted from 'We the Dreamers chase forever; so at least in that, we'll be together'.

tagged. empty thoughts.

-

We, the youth, are inherently weak.

Given too much, we forget how to fight. We have no reason to. Our spirit is weak, we crack under the littlest of pressures, being too comfortable in our so-called problems. Frivolous things really. We have no focus or focus on unnecessary things. We fail at survival because we have no drive.

We mature in complacency.

A cynic? In every sense of the word.

I am not strong, merely cynical. Resorting to words where actions do not always match. I lose faith in people, waiting for them to walk out on me, time and again, it has stopped being of an importance.

Kept at distance, they feel closer than they actually are. Too close, and they are far again. Shut out for fear of a broken heart. Am I a changed person? Partly so. More closed than I've ever been. I am not strong. I do what I can to survive.

by s h a r o n ♥

contradictions and confusions, to say the least.

2009-10-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

12:06 a.m. October 16. technically, Friday.

". . .we're not told for a reason."

-

It was late and slowly my mind is starting to drift away, trying to figure out an answer to my own question,

"what the hell happened?"

My head collapsed on top of my folded arms with three words on a constant loop at the back of my mind. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

However, Bleep! (from Google talk) caught my attention.

"Post this instead." You replied. "You're just placing your sanity in a hole."

Always lovely to have your company. "Sorry? What do you mean?" I asked.

"She touched a nerve, didn't she? Succinct?"

The writer of Succinct, a keen reader of twoangles and not to mention a dear acquaintance of mine now, have had several conversations mainly consisting of twoangles itself.

"I bet I can guess what's on your mind now." You continued.

"Oh? Please do." arrogantly, I replied. It's rather hard to emphasis arrogance in instant messaging.

"You're looking for a pattern. Or at least, hoping for one.

Flipping through previous 'chapters', comparing and analyzing. Reading through the plot, in contempt.

And just maybe, there would be a pattern between the two and by the end of it, find the variable - the answer."

Silence. Frantically scratching my head wondering yet amazed by how I could be predicted by just ten minutes of instant messaging materials. But then again, we call you M for a reason - nay, several reasons.

"Go on."

and you did, "But there isn't one.

The similarity are but merely coincidental; perhaps. And you know this. Therefore, your mind wonders into it's own malignancy.

Placing the blame on cruelty of fate, karma. Even self-pity, on how you're unable to choose who you to care for, like or even fall in love."

My wrists jerked backwards and froze. Word to word, it was like you were in my head reading it like a cruel book critic pissed off by the obviousness.

"Not knowing is a burden but it can be a gift.

If God could tell you how your inevitable death will be, would you really wanna know?

I know it's horrible not knowing how one day you're watching Audrey Hepburn movies together and the next day, she won't even look at you to say hello. We're gonna be kept out of the blue a lot whether we like it or not and often we're not told for a reason.

And maybe, the reason is just not worth it."

'Just not worth it'. Four words I've been hearing a lot lately. Mainly with the word "She's" in front mostly.

written by I.O.

between cappuccinos and chai lattes

2009-10-15T05:06:00.000-07:00

We sat along a familiar cafe with familiar company.

We even had the same conversation. Maybe just a 'tad' different with the addition of a new innuendo. pretty much the same story, nonetheless.

but you did leave me pondering.

-

Though our stories are completely different, when summarized, it bears a somewhat similar plot.

So here's one tale depicted from the visions of M,

'It was a sunny afternoon.

A little girl walks pass a jewelry store but was halted by something that had caught her eye.

Mesmerized by the beautifully hand-crafted glass pony standing behind the thick window display, glimmering, she stood as close as she could with her hands over her head trying to shield her eyes from the blinding sunlight in hope to see a better glimpse of the glass pony.

For hours, she stood there - gathering her courage to enter the shop.

Finally, as the doors to the store swung open. The little girl ran gaily inside with the sheer excitement of seeing the pony up close. In utter glee, she picked up the pony from the display shelf and skipped around the store not realizing how fragile it is but for one moment, contented.

Only to trip and fall as the glass pony shatters into a million pieces in her arms.

She stood up, stunned, as she stared at blood bleeding from the countless cuts on her arm. However, the wounds were the last of her worries because at the back of her mind, she is reminded of the unpaid value of the glass horse itself.'

written by M.

a rant from the wounded

2009-10-10T06:19:00.000-07:00

"Nobody beat me,
nobody tried to steal my baby,
nobody stabbed me.

but I am wounded, Sam."

"Noah?"

"My heart is broken.

And I shouldn't even complain about this because . . . nothing happened. I mean nothing happened to me. Unlike what happened to the Larsons or Violette.

You know sometimes,

I'm almost jealous of them. because everybody can see their injuries. So they have the right to be messed up.

I did the right thing.

. . . and my heart is broken."

-private practice.

your apathy is just ignorance

2009-10-03T01:55:00.000-07:00

In life there's a lot of things that define who we are, one of them are these things we call "fine lines" that we often choose to cross or not.

These so-called fine lines are what usually separates us from one identity to another.

Usually the line exists between two opposite criteria (right and wrong). Such as the fine line between friends and enemies, sanity and insanity, love and hatred, or even self-defense and murder. But it's not always opposite, they can also often be closely related. The fine line between best friends and lovers, anger and actual rage, and not to forget the infamous line between harmless flirting and actual cheating.

While the line can be really obvious for most cases and therefore the choice to cross it is usually on the beholder hands, that's not always the case. For some of us, we are either dragged or even pushed across the line.

A man once said,

"it takes two to tango."

Same case here, no one would just cross a line without a reason (purpose).

A sane man does not just turn insane overnight, the turnover could occur over a loss of a loved one or even other traumatic experiences. A young soldiers, once full of life dutifully serving his countries returning beaten down by the tyranny of war.

But in most cases, the decision to cross is often self decided (self-inflicted). For instance, the decision for two friends to be more than friends. And I'm sure there's a lot of you who believe that this cross, "just happens" but in my opinion, that's a load of bullshit.

Or even two close friends. Friendship forged since the days they could barely even pronounce words properly, shattered over misunderstood deceit or secondhand lies. The outcomes are often decided by each other, whether to remain in hatred or to forgive and forget.

You can always choose to cheat on someone.
You can always choose to open up to someone.
You can always choose to forgive someone.

But the main question is . . .do you want to?

coffee over columnists

2009-09-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

Vigdis,
The whole reason over this meet.

Only you people would ever travel four hours just for lunch.

"Let me pick your brain." You said.

-

I waited for your arrival. Curious rather than nervous.

At exactly 3:00pm, you came waving at me on this open view two-storey cafe with a deck overlooking the countless sea of office workers trying to get back to work as lunch time was about to end.

Shorter than what I'd imagine.

With baggy eyes and rather skinny appeal, different. Not to mention a thin black trench coat which has become somewhat of a signature of your so-called "society". Nevertheless, something about you that gives this chilled presence unlike her, the other one of you I've met.

You sat next to me.

"What is someone as statuette as you doing here rather than being down there as one of them?" You greeted. hello to you too.

"One would say the same. Like your sir, I don't go to work, work comes to me." some would call it freelancing, I'd call it freedom-of-choice.

You nodded with a small smirk at the side.

"So what brings you to this meeting?" I asked. they told you I was 'straight to the point'.

"Vigdis." You replied.

Vigdis was an article I wrote based on the idea of writers (or rather crafters) who would use these encoding, encryption - steganography would be the correct term for it; in their pieces to deliver messages between two parties. Even from Ancient Greek, the word steganos means "cover, roof" and grapho is to "to write". In which, you and your co-writer(s) were mentioned in as well as several sources from different medias.

To the naked eye, an article like this would be seen as nothing more than a conspiracy junkie trying to rage against the media on how it's brainwashing the subconscious mind of it viewers/readers. A rant towards the media underworld. like one of those internet-ranters who didn't believe in the moon-landing - one would call them idiots but some would say 'liberators'.

However, the article itself had it's own hidden message. my own attempt at steganography.

Which if broken down, would show...

"Secretive people and people with secrets are two completely different beings." You said.

With a deep gaze as one hand holds the article closer towards your face and the other holding your chin up barely covering your mouth.

I smiled. the second person to finally get it.

written by Fi. edited by I.O.

the unwritten expectations

2009-09-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

Sometimes all you need is someone to just be there for you,
and you just happen be in the right time at the right place.

Maybe, you're just part of cruel joke.

M

-

Like all of our lovely greets, "You're an idiot."

"Good to hear from you too, love."

Despite the fact that you've been away for the past four weeks, you still had time to entertain my uncertainty. We didn't speak that long but long enough to tell you my story - or what's left of it.

Silence fell. As I stared at the phone, wondering if our lines got disconnected. Can't help but to be reminded that at the corner of my eye sat the whole main topic of this agenda.

le sigh.

"Have you ever stood in the same room as her and wondered 'why am I here?'", you asked.

"Yeah."

You replied, "When you know why, then you decide to send it or not."

The message which reads,

"I didn't do it on purpose.."

être poursuivi.

written by I.O and Fi.

nice to see you again, mate.

2009-09-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

A conversation between the usual cashier and a regular customer.

excuse the random-ness.
-

"Hey, nice to see you again, mate. How are ya?"

"Hey. Good thanks. Yourself?

"Yeah, good good. Buying stuff for yourself or your girlfriend again?"

"Haha. No no, it's all for me. She's not my girlfriend."

"Pity. You two look good together."

Cheers.

the unsent message

2009-09-10T10:20:00.000-07:00

San Churros, September 4.

"Are you going to send it or not?" You asked.

I kept staring at the message, reading it over and over again. Completely ignoring what you said.

-

It's exactly what I would like to say. But the question is, should I?

"Maybe it's just in my head. You know my tendency of over-thinking."

As our desserts arrived, all you did was rub your forehead. Sensing all I'm doing is finding an excuse not to send it. Like a friend once said, the higher the risk, the larger the rewards. but then again, the deeper the downfall if it fails.

"What if it's too much?"

You shrugged. an 'up-to-you' shrug.

I couldn't. Despite my best efforts to have the courage to send it, I just couldn't. The thought of the possible risk of rupturing whatever that was left of our friendship, held me back from doing so.

I just don't want to be seen as that over-dramatic guy. Sorry, you kind-of are.

But what if it did work? I've never been as comfortable around someone or someone who was so comfortably open to me. Keyword there, was. Would it restore what we had before? probably - not.

Alas, it remains at the back of a moleskin filled with notes.

The message which ends,

"And I'm sorry if I did, hope to hear from you."

être poursuivi.

written by I.O and Fi.

the pale blue dot

2009-09-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

"The Earth is a very small stage in vast cosmic arena.

On it, everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of - every human being whoever was, lived out their lives.

Thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines.

Every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every hero and coward - every creator and destroyer of civilization, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance.

The delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light; and underscores our responsibility and to preserve and cherish..

..the pale blue dot."

- Interlude

no subject

2009-09-04T23:39:00.000-07:00

After who knows how long, it arrives - a reply.

-

People like us, we treat people like assets.

Assets with certain capabilities, we befriend.
Assets we contact for a purpose - an opportunity.
Assets we maintain for our own benefit.

Once the asset has fulfill our original need, they would then be deemed useless.
Thereafter, all ties would be severed.

People like us,
We don't care about these assets.
We won't wonder what they are doing.
We won't care what happens to them when they go missing.

We won't miss her scent when she leaves the room.

"la vie en rose."
-Anonymous

p.s. no matter how hard you try, you're not going to be one of us.

it has to happen eventually.

2009-08-06T08:40:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, you said

"There's no such thing as a bad first date. First dates can only be either really good, or just okay."

A lecture by the lovely M.

-

The keyword to this is, expectations.

All of us have an idea of a good idea date. The interests, conversation, chemistry, and of course, first impressions . These are the usual things that could make a good date, great but they can also be the criteria that we place onto ourselves and others that causes bad dates.

When we start placing expectations and the date doesn't live up to them, things go sour real quick.

Honestly, there's nothing wrong with being picky.

Of course! But, you shouldn't place expectations for the first date. After all, it's called the first date.

A first date should be a moment where two people really get to know each other, romantically. Hangouts, gathering, shopping sprees, or parties - none of these should be considered as a "date" as people tend to be in a different set of atmosphere or mood. A first date should be more of an introductory to the possible relationship.

Now, just because two people really hit it off on their first date, it doesn't really mean that the person is the right one. We've grown to learn that even if two people who do have a lot of common interests and desires, there is still a possibility for a very sad ending - like finding that someone with someone else and you kind of knew it but didn't really acknowledge it because it seems impossible, somehow.

case and point. sorry love.

Sometimes, the kindest of faces have the coldest of hearts.

Anyway,

Even if two people don't really get along or have much chemistry happening on their first date, it doesn't mean their not the one either. It is possible for someone to be able to eventually grow into your heart, like...

Childhood friends who end up falling for each other.

The little annoyance around you that you didn't realize how quiet it was without them around.

Or that one person, who'd wake up at 6am pretending he wasn't sleeping, just to listen to you when you needed someone to talk to.

Most people expect the perfect first date has to be a memorable one. But most memorable moments happen without you ever realizing it - it just happens.

Bottom line, if you have to place expectations, place expectations on yourself!

co-written by M.
"if you don't try, how can you ever find out?"

a silver plated butter knife.

2009-07-27T06:12:00.000-07:00

A typical Sunday night.

We finally had a civilized supper - no arguments, no tears, just silence. for once.

"It's not you." You said.

-

"coffee, just for a while." fine.

Despite all the cut throat tension in the air. We did it.

I sat at our "usual" table, waiting. You were late... again. But this time you noticed my disappointment from the twisted smirk I gave you; you apologized because after all, you're the one who invited me.

Awkward. You stared at the menu, hiding half of your face, as I gave my order to the waiter. the usual please.

I kept my eyes over at the empty table across the room, avoiding the sight of your face - trying to fight the urge to literally stab you with the butter knife.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You said. "About..."

"No. I don't."

Silence fell on us again. Wondering, why the hell am I here again?

All that was running through my head was a quote from Lord of the Rings that you told me once.

Which one?

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back?
There are some things that time cannot mend.
Some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold."

Word to word, I remember all of it.

Back to the story.

One cappuccino light-foam soy milk and double chocolate sprinkles, the usual.

"Look. I called you here because I want to talk about it." You told me, in a demanding voice.

"What's there to talk about?"

"It's not you."

"I know."

I knew it wasn't me. I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew you could never love me. I had so much sorrow inside - you could never reach.

There was nothing you could've done to change anything. What's been done can't be undone. No matter how hard I wish we could have, I knew we couldn't - you were perfect.

Despite all of it, what you've done to me and what you've told me, your face is forever forged in the back of my memories.

It's not you - it's the idea of you.

written by M.

a smile to make a day

2009-07-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

Usually, I won't post up videos or link to random crap.

But I have to show this video because it brought some laughter to an otherwise disappointing night.

p.s. i love you

2009-07-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

"All I know is, if you don't figure out this something, you'll just stay ordinary; and it doesn't matter if its a work of art or a taco, or a pair of socks!

Just create something new, and there it is, and its you, out in the world, out side of you and you can look at it, or hear it, or read it, or feel it... and you know a little more about... you.

A little bit more than anyone else does... Does that make any sense at all?"

"Yeah... you're saying you want to paint socks."

"Maybe!"

-

If you know someone who tries to drown their sorrows, you might tell them sorrows know how to swim.

p.s. i love you.

blue grass is still grass

2009-07-22T08:24:00.000-07:00

It started with the question,

"Why do you seem different in front of other people?"

Is it wrong to be different to a person compared to the other?

Disregard the ideas of favoritism, discrimination, racism and just plain 'bias-ness' for a moment. If a person seem to communicate, share interests, and rather generally behave differently to one clique compared to another, is the person guilty of being wrong? fake? Even if he/she shares an equal compassion, importance to all of them?

People have this tainted image of people being different in front of others as being abusive, opportunists, again fakes. They see 'these kind of people' as nothing more than just people who'd bend over backwards for someone just for their own advantage; using people as assets - not caring anymore once they were deem useless. Using them as favors for their own personal needs and gains.

Others, see more of the usual 'high school' approach, where they see these people merely adapting to the clique to gain acceptance - the sense of belonging. A sense of desperation to overcome ones own loneliness. To achieve popularity, even.

Basically, giving a guilty verdict of not being ones true self.

Notice how I wrote these people as 'being' different in front of others instead of 'acting' different in front of others.

Now, let me ask you.

Is it not possible for someone's true identity is to just be different?

Would it be so hard to believe that the only constant criteria of a person is constant change?

Without a doubt, there are those driven to be different from just being afraid. Afraid that their skeletons of the past would along bring judgment and exile. Afraid to open up to others because they're used to the comfort and openness of the selected few. Then there are those those just afraid, afraid to shatter whatever's left of a once strong bond by safely choosing their words and holding their desired intents.

Someone of us, choose to be different. We do not mean harm or wish to abuse anyone. We simply enjoy the diversity - the mixture.

" The only reason why I seem different in front of them compared to you guys is because, you can never forget your own stripes."

-M , the fourth stripe.

in memories, we remember

2009-07-19T00:49:00.000-07:00

Along our journey, we've forged a lot memories.

Some more valuable than others. Some, no matter how many times I'd think back, will always bring a smile to my face. Several we'd call 'bitter sweet nothings' - moments we'd think we would be better off forgetting, but actually moments which gave us new found respect/appreciation (hope?).

You once said to me,

"The measure of a person is not by their mistakes, but the decisions they make from them."

Til' this day, I live by this code. Or at least, somewhat of it. I remember you continued saying something about "... and the path we follow but not the trails we left behind."

And to think, a few years ago, you're the one who said

"For goodness sake, buy some jeans. You're bloody seventeen not twenty-five, stop wearing those awful slacks."

Hey, they were Dockers. They're very comfortable and they were coffee-stain-proof.

Anyway,
you taught me never to render myself useless when stricken down.

Remember what he said? "Eventually life is gonna give you a right hook to the face, and you have two choices. You can either whinge about it, or get some freakin' ice."

Do you remember what else you told me?

"It's not the money, the car, the rank you carry that defines you. It's the people who you surround yourself with - the people you touch in their time of need and the people who stood by you whenever you fall."

Wherever the hell you are in the world, just remember. I'm here if you need me.

Cheer up, love.

p.s. I know once you read this you're gonna freakin' e-mail on how I've used too many quotations, it looks messy bla bla bla. Shut up, you're not bloody editor. lol

A Shipwreck In The Sand

2009-07-08T23:05:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time.

Before the lakes and rivers were polluted,
before the animals were poached to extinction,
and before man had destroyed the earth's atmosphere,

there was a great ship.

This vessel was to venture into new waters, to find new resources, to make life easier and more enjoyable.

It was a simple mission for the crew, who were excited to be a part of this union. They pledged their allegiance to the captain, and vowed to be there no matter what - in sickness, health, and possible death.

As time passed by, there was no new land to be found. As the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer and colder, the crew became more and more skeptical about the captain's vision.

Originally passionate and committed, true and faithful, they began to revolt.

"You've crossed the line. I was honest, I never promised anything.
Just a brotherhood to stand for something.
And everyone should take the lead, follow your dreams.
If you don't try, you fail."

And as the mutiny started and the captain was overthrown and chained, he asked them why their minds had changed.

"There's no gold to be found, no treasures in the ground.

We won't die for this, we won't die for you."

His dream is now a shipwreck in the sand. They gave up, they made all their demands.
The storm consumed fifty-seven souls who died in vain, his love - they stole.

This union, a battle fought and lost.
This union was not about the cause.
This union was never about love.

by Neil Boshart, Josh Bradford and Paul Koehler.

to the crooked decrees and twisted ordinances, we believe in.

2009-07-07T07:34:00.000-07:00

Not now,

Despite that scent of an aging longing,
I'm not ready - blind to the obvious,
Yet I can't help but to give in.
Bitter to my own advice.

Not yet.

M
I.O

"let me fall, sil vous plait? "

under the knife, do you believe we will ever make it?

2009-07-04T06:03:00.000-07:00

9.50 am.

I woke up to a song which sings "Wake me up inside, tell me there's a reason.". You rang.

Another morning? Hardly.

"A glimpse is better than nothing, right?" you said. Heh. Right, fine.

-
And faintly you came tapping, tapping on my shoulder. Without a doubt, I knew it was you. A stunning beauty in a dark beige trench coat and an oh-so-familiar necklace, glimmering.

We both gave our usual greets followed by the whole "It's been ages!" ice breaker.

For a good thirty minutes in the evening, we both sat there. With our cupcakes at hand; I told you my story, you laughed and out came the sarcastic remarks. Despite the rather long and adolescent rant, you sat there with a face that understood every single word of it.

I smiled. Because at the end of the tormenting taunts, I knew you'd give me some sense of so called "peace" - and you did.

You gave me a long glance and said "What do you expect?"

"Hmm?"

You shrugged and said "You got what you asked for. Just that what you asked, isn't really what you wanted."

One would wonder, why ask for something that you don't want?

And before I could barely finish "I'd rather have..."

"...a glimpse than nothing at all?" you uttered and smiled.

How did he put it? "If you can't get the whole pie, ask for a slice."

To think the last time we both met, we waltz to our hearts content. Good times. Sorry for the ankle bruises.

The time came for you leave and we both knew it will be a while til' our next encounter. We exchanged laughs, as if our goodbyes had become quite a common routine - a friendly hug.

And so you left; you brought along to your departure, my secret - a secret so many know about, yet so few really understand.

Til' we meet again.

mute the tv, i'm trying to be emo

2009-07-02T02:49:00.000-07:00

To say it's been a while would be quite an understatement.

After finally being able to gain access to the web, I am reminded of a statement told from a friend while I was back.

She said "You'd know when he's back when he starts writing again.". Suggesting I only write when ...yeah you get the point.

So here's to you Aimi and happy birthday. My gift to you, a new post. Enjoy.

-

"Beauty is in the details."

You can't really appreciate something (or someone) until you've noticed the small details.

Whether it's the smooth texture of an oil painted wonder, the subtle taste of Parmesan in a simple Greek soup, or her radiating smile from around the corner.

But then again, we grow unwary of these 'small details'. Sometimes forced upon us to finally realizing them - like the whole "You'd only miss something, once it's gone." shenanigans from part three.

Others, so focused on one agenda that they become so oblivious to what's around them. Not seeing what's right next to them, waiting.

Now, details could also mean the attachment it brings - their history.

Right.

Like an old silver ring I found from a box of old things which is engraved with the word 'Horde' which to the naked eye seems like another piece of cheap jewelery.

But along with it came great memories which undoubtedly shape who I am today. Such as the constant guidance that was taught, the painful memories of disbanding and meeting again in blood and tears. Times where staying up til 5am was a common routine and a new meaning to the word "squishy" is born.

And yes, there was a hint of jealousy, anger, regret and again oh so much pain. Especially, that unforgettable teary moment over "vent" that fueled me with guilt and self-anger. Sorry again love.

However, at the end of it, gave birth to one of the strongest friendship that could possibly be forged by mankind and the wide smile from the adolescent joy that comes with it.

You'll be greatly missed, Jermaine.

Blergh

2009-06-02T05:46:00.000-07:00

There are some days that just don't feel right. Days when you know, it's gonna be bad.

It starts out fine and then shit hits the fan.

Shit happens.

deal with it.

we run into walls for a reason.

2009-05-06T05:30:00.000-07:00

"To return to what we are used to, is only human.
To learn and embrace change, is a new beginning - a new day."

Flip a coin, maybe that'll help.

2009-05-04T07:14:00.001-07:00

We all face many choices/decisions/options. Some forced into, others we just have to make.

Some decision, we just don't even have a say in.

-

So when we do get a choice, it comes down to two choices;

the 'want' choice - or the 'greed' choice is usually the one most people take.

This one usually means when the choice is given, we take the option that would benefit ourselves primarily (of course). Though occasionally, there are those known as the silent victims whom due to your decision, had to pay the consequences.

Now I know I don't need to mention examples here but just for the sake of argument, why not. From unnoticeable things like, buying the last ticket to the bloody concert and the poor guy behind you has to face the 'Sold Out' sign. To the heart broken, like finding out the person you like is seeing another person via Facebook/myspace. Basically, it's the whole yingyang thing - if you're happy, possible someone linked will suffer.

then there's..

the right choice

In this modern era where everyone is just 'looking out for themselves', this choice is usually thrown out the window. This choice usually sacrificing your own needs for the benefit of others. Like giving the old lady the last loaf of bread left in the supermarket or just spending time with a friend in need rather than going on that hot date. Like what karma suggests, "do good onto others and others will do good to you.". A load of horse crap or blind truth? - that's your own opinion.

This choice also means doing something that we need or should have done; not necessarily what we want to do. Like the whole 'cheese cake or salad choice', sure it's yummy but you're tummy will pay for it.

So I shall leave you to ponder
Is what you're doing really what's right?
Or you're contempt that what you're doing is what you want?

calm down, it's done.

2009-04-24T00:22:00.000-07:00

all you need to know are these five words.

"hey, it's gonna be alright."

Story of the Other, Part Three

2009-04-17T16:38:00.000-07:00

Another day arrives and after staring at the ceiling fan for 10 minutes, I realized it's already noon.

Whoever first said,

"You'd only miss something, once it's gone."

must've been either a romanticist , a sadist or someone really old.

---

But honestly, you can't say what he said is wrong.

Old people would reminisce about their youth. Workers who'd look back at old school photos and yearbooks. And of course, those who've had loved (or almost) and lost.

And usually, you wouldn't appreciate the small finer details until it's gone.

Like that halal indonesian restaurant around the corner. Or the quiet open park where your problems would float away. Or that one place that sells nothing but chocolate melted in a million ways where everyone would meet just to chat. Especially that one moment when someone made a joke where everyone laughed at first then we go "What?!".

For most of us, we try to chase the memories. Only to kid ourselves in hoping that it would return. Because we thrive, we thrive for what once made us happy. An endless chase for the somewhat near impossible. The need to fulfill that void left inside once it had 'gone'.

For the few of us, we're lucky enough to be able to actually retrieve what had once disappeared and once again relive the blissful memories. How it ends however, could be just another déjà vu and it disappears once again or it could just be 'picking up from where we left of'. But this is only the exception to rule, the very lucky few.

Fortunately, for most of us who did not get the chance to relive what had once gone, we move on. To what we have now, to what is here. To finally acknowledge that it's definitely gone and the need to chase is futile.

Sure there's nothing wrong with flipping through the old scrap books for laughs and giggles. After all, our past is what shapes our future. Memories are what separates us from robots.

"For a new chapter to begin, the old one has to end."

fin.

co-written by M.

Story of the Other, Part Two

2009-03-30T06:55:00.000-07:00

After a phone call.

-

" It's that we found a story worth telling,

We got the script right,
We got the crew just right,
The perfect cast,

And we were Oh-so-close! to make something that'll affect somebody.

And Maybe just. Just Maybe!

Illuminate a small part of their world by telling our story.

But sometimes,

the beauty is in the attempt.

We took a shot. We did everything we could and we did it well.

It just didn't work out."

Story of the Other, Part One

2009-03-09T06:52:00.000-07:00

Can we really foresee our own denial?

It's simple.

You know it's true,
When the very thought of it shakes you literally,
The very scent of the reminiscence sink your heart.
Smile, be joyous.

It's true.

M

-

We hope.

Despite our common judgment and common sense who tells us otherwise, we still hope for the impossible.

We cling on that last bit of possibilities at the back of our mind even when we know wholeheartedly it may never happen.

Fate taunts us by giving us glimpse - a sudden flash of light at the corner of our eyes - but when we seek it again, it's gone.

But when it all fails, we blame our circumstances on bad luck, bad decisions and the endless void of being too late.

But you know what,
it's only too late if you've already given up.

It's a beautiful lie.

2009-03-06T04:13:00.000-08:00

"We as human just generally think too much,
We are only as complicated as the way we think we are." -M

Think about it.

We do over think a lot. Simple situations turned gargantuan in our own heads. From striving to achieve excellence, or the never ever ending quest to seek acceptance, to even the blistering pain of losing the 9 out of 10 on a tram ride (yes you know who you are), it scars and is forever forged in the back of our mind.

Even though the agony we face from over thinking almost always leads us to regretting what we should or should not have done, we learn. As humans, we learn from our memories, be it good or bad, we are better prepared if the same opportunity returns.

The most valuable lesson one would learn is probably to follow their gut (or heart, which ever suits your personal preference) and whatever that comes of it doesn't matter, as you are who you are. Bottom line, never hesitate when it really matters.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Kill your fickle minded mind and just answer me already.

2009-02-02T05:31:00.000-08:00

As my two weeks end, I've done some thinking and have imagined what if my decisions in life had switched like "What if I didn't switch schools?" or "What if I hadn't done this course?". Then I realized something. Four words can alter our lives completely. They are:

Umm.., Yes, No, and Maybe.

Umm..

This term is the most annoying. It's when no answer given but just an extension of the wait we have to endure. It's when one is forced to wait for the true answer.
The way people express this term varies, from "Your visa is still pending." to "Umm.. you know what, I'll tell you tomorrow" .

Yes.

This one can be tricky. It could be greatest three alphabet you will ever want to hear, or the worse. But in most cases, it brings the biggest joy out of the four terms or at least is the commonly positive outcome you'd wish to hear on BIG questions. Unless the questions is "Am I going to die?", then you're screwed.

No.

No, could be the most horrible thing the English language had to uncover to us all. Widely used as a form of rejection or denial and brings the negative slap-in-the-face to everyone. Though it might be a word you seek when you're facing a terrible illness or bankruptcy but in most cases, hearing NO will shatter you.

Maybe.

This is a weird one. This is when the person is one the fence and is unable to pick a side. It gives a glimpse of hope but still leaves a subtle feeling that it's not gonna happen. Mainly used by procrastinators to postpone whatever it is they want to do. Also used in different ways like "I'll think about it." or "We'll see."

So yeah. Be careful on what you decide for others, as it may very well alter their outcome in the future.

When life gives you lemons, make apple juice.

2009-01-29T07:19:00.000-08:00

It was so easy being a child. Things were either black or white. No confusion, whatsoever.

And then we grow up and kabamslam.
How the hell did the grey come about?

----

Truth and lies. Black and white. Good and bad. Angels and sinners.
Initially, everything seems clear. Everything is distinct - and in place.
But then nothing in life can really remain that clear-cut forever, anyway.

A wise man from one of the C.S.I episodes once said:

"It's every human's right to know the truth."

Eventually, we will be exposed to the existence of new concepts. Of dark truths (ie. secrets which are better left unknown) and white lies (lies we tell for finer reasons). A new breed of mixture.

These two are so integrated together - so "grey" - that in this modern day and time, it can be very difficult to tell them apart. In the intense world of law, lies are somehow bent and flowered to the extent where they appear to be as the actual truth. Then you have facts which are adversely searched for loop holes so they can be extorted as lies, or what one would call, "false truths".

All this is inevitable. This occurrence, this confusion, this..concept.
It can be seen in everyone, by their decisions, their clothing, their career, their way of life and even through the ones they love.

So I ask.
Is this what they truly want? Are they really pressured into making these decisions? Are they just plainly living a lie?

Who knows?
Question is, is it that wrong to live the lie if the lie feels good?

edited by theimportmodel.

Word vomit, just step over

2009-01-26T08:29:00.000-08:00

So, you can't stay innocent forever.

Now it's just a question of when you want to taint your actions. Imagine if there was no external pressure of each society to adapt to. Everyone would be so distinct. There would be no universal teen culture that believe the rites of passage to adulthood go from getting drunk to getting laid. Clearly, there's this conflict between the old and new. The stationary and the ever-changeable.

Whether or not we conform is a subjective matter. If you really feel the need, I suppose no one can stop you, and it's not as though you are going to be ridiculed for what you do these days anyway. It is all about the "exploration of the self" and the context in which we try to live in. Seemingly, society at large tells us to go party and live, apart from just existing. In fact, one would presume that one would be in more trouble and subjected to more ridicule for the things you don't do.

Perhaps by over thinking about this, we're just merely reevaluating things we've already known to be true and constant. Reminding ourselves that our beliefs are special, that the select few who don't buy into this capitalist way of thinking (where everything is a commodity) are immune to whatever is "new" and "revolutionary". Would this be another case of 'us against the world'? The key issue here is dealing with how society as a whole see it. It is a question of majority vs. minority. It is the matter of sussing out the difference between normality and acceptance. And then embracing it with contentment.

At the moment, I tend to contradict my own self. Everyday, I question the validity of my principles because the fact is, they're not properly fixed. I question what I'm doing when I could be doing something else. I question how I would want people to remember me by. Until I sort that out, it will be a neverending debate. But that's okay. I'm not doing this for anyone's sake, no.
I need to do this for me - I know I govern myself.

What if we conform?
What if we give ourselves an excuse?
What if we give in?
What if he hide and lie?
What if we just don't care?
What if we go all the way?
What if we try?
What if we have nothing to lose?
What if we have had enough of over thinking?
What if we do it just once?
What if we repeat?

~~What if~~ Who cares if we end up being hypocrites anyway?
We're only human.

written by theimportmodel.

Secrets

2009-01-22T01:05:00.000-08:00

One day, I stumbled across a pretty flower, this 'Gerbera' convinced me to write more. And more is what will be written.

-

se·cret (sē'krĭt) adj.

Kept hidden from knowledge or view; concealed.
Dependably discreet.
Operating in a hidden or confidential manner: a secret agent.
Not expressed; inward: their secret thoughts.
Not frequented; secluded: wandered about the secret byways of Paris.
Known or shared only by the initiated: secret rites.
Beyond ordinary understanding; mysterious.
Containing information, the unauthorized disclosure of which poses a grave threat to national security

We all live with secrets, whether we like it or not.
(Life sucks like that, but yeah.)

They vary from person to person. Some are small and minuscule, and some are so incredibly big that no one but you, the beholder of the secret, fully understands the consequences of carrying it.

Society today constantly reminds us that we need to keep these secrets hushed; sometimes to avoid humility, embarrassment, sadness, fear or even judgment from others. In some - no wait, scratch that - most cases, secrets are told to the trusted few so that the journey of carrying its burden is lessened.

My old Literature teacher once said, "The best way to keep a secret is to tell everyone, and then tell them that it's a secret". He's a bit of a twisted genius, so heaven knows whether he was being serious or not. But isn't it interesting to watch how one reacts to an unveiling of a secret? Hidden romantic feelings and tragedy-bound gossip, unwanted shock and immense bliss.

Some are meant to be told, some are (just) meant to be taken down to the grave.

I believe that secrets are what makes us human.
But even we, as people, can't do everything on our own.
Sidenote: Yeah, it wouldn't hurt to have trust in a few people.

"Trust is the power we give onto others to aid us on our time of need or destroy us in times of betrayal."

co-written by M.
edited by theimportmodel.

What if..

2008-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

The clock has ticked and a new day begins, a new year even.

When something new begins, you can't help but think about what had past.

Someone (or probably some narrative from some TV show) once told me that the saddest thing about being humans is the question most of us ask ourselves, What if..?

What if I had done something different?

What if I didn't do it in the first place?

What if I had said yes instead no?

What if I was just 5 minutes earlier?

It's endless. Which basically is what if I didn't take the yellow brick road?

At 2:00 am in the morning, as I walk down the street, I see how drunken people moving up and down the street shouting "Happy New Year!" and strangers meeting other strangers giving each other high fives and shaking hands while wishing them a happy new year (even some stranger just shouted at me "Hey bro! Happy New Year! Go party your ass off! Woooo!"), I find those question I asked earlier were useless.

Just mindless regrets for something that just couldn't be changed anymore because it's just too late. Why bother right?

So this is to 2009, may regrets stay as nothing more than mistakes of the past, and let hope bring us new beginnings! Happy New Year!

Cheers!

..and good luck.

Ranting.

2008-12-30T04:58:00.000-08:00

Finally - because I need to air out 'stuff' for my own sanity - a blog is created.

'Eleven Stripes - Two Angles' is basically about a private life. Filled with boring moments, small things made huge for its own sense of excitement, and additional questions for a simple answer.

So let the ranting begin eh?

Welcome readers. Enjoy!