Frowning upon the indecent act of reprising my chaining action-reaction mechanism, I could not help to think that that there are so many things alien in me. Peculiar, unpredictable emotions and feelings and behaviours. It is as if I am living in a body that nullifies grace for vulgarity, in the most explainable ways. Enjoyment or pleasure of sleeping from 5am to 2 pm for example, the trickling heat and glaring sun that would have wake me up in an instant is now, pleasurable. So is basking of the midnight moon. A kind of pleasure that comes in a package wrapped with guilt. But still, a package or a present, wrapped in anything; surat khabar lama or butter paper is still irresistable.
Another emotion that strucked my conscience (this kind of feeling will only surface when I'm alone, which I was for the past 3 days) is selective ignorance. Gone are the days where fake grins and cheap statements are fashionable to me. The trend of being non-nonsensical in the most briskly friendly way is IN. This bendy yet straight 'curve' approach is by far, the most effective and honest method of befriending people and yet many would have it compare to cynisicm or -kau giler ke apenism-
Yes, I'm almost a wacko, almost a cracked-head and almost too spilling to stay aloft in the local arena. I'm not saying that I would be better off in London, God Forbids, 'Cheerios' will remain a kind of sweet food or breakfast cerial. Never a greeting! I'm just saying that sugarcoated friendship is so downtroddenly annoying, like lace. Expensive but fragile. Effort-effective but ineffective. Lainlah kalau lace underwear kan? I just think there are very few truly honest people that I would love to have conversations with but alas, generalization here is like nasi lemak for breakfast. If I do so: make my move and befriend -orangputeh- acting people (as people might call them) I will forsake my identity. Heck, pictures of me with my former classmates (all of them chinese) had already sparked a -afiq macam tu rupanye- persona. I'm not blaming them or their parents. Just the government for encouraging seperate schools and 'according-to-race' parties. Far-fetched? Reality bites baby!
And now here I am, still unable to reason with myself on why I plot my entries when I know that I am an impulsive writer. See, no matter how we try to gain control of our actions with our grey matter (to inexperienced readers: grey matter=brain) we can't... We?
Okaylah, not you lah... (repeats sentence)
See, no matter how I try to gain control of MY actions with MY grey matter......
Malaslah~
Another emotion that strucked my conscience (this kind of feeling will only surface when I'm alone, which I was for the past 3 days) is selective ignorance. Gone are the days where fake grins and cheap statements are fashionable to me. The trend of being non-nonsensical in the most briskly friendly way is IN. This bendy yet straight 'curve' approach is by far, the most effective and honest method of befriending people and yet many would have it compare to cynisicm or -kau giler ke apenism-
Yes, I'm almost a wacko, almost a cracked-head and almost too spilling to stay aloft in the local arena. I'm not saying that I would be better off in London, God Forbids, 'Cheerios' will remain a kind of sweet food or breakfast cerial. Never a greeting! I'm just saying that sugarcoated friendship is so downtroddenly annoying, like lace. Expensive but fragile. Effort-effective but ineffective. Lainlah kalau lace underwear kan? I just think there are very few truly honest people that I would love to have conversations with but alas, generalization here is like nasi lemak for breakfast. If I do so: make my move and befriend -orangputeh- acting people (as people might call them) I will forsake my identity. Heck, pictures of me with my former classmates (all of them chinese) had already sparked a -afiq macam tu rupanye- persona. I'm not blaming them or their parents. Just the government for encouraging seperate schools and 'according-to-race' parties. Far-fetched? Reality bites baby!
And now here I am, still unable to reason with myself on why I plot my entries when I know that I am an impulsive writer. See, no matter how we try to gain control of our actions with our grey matter (to inexperienced readers: grey matter=brain) we can't... We?
Okaylah, not you lah... (repeats sentence)
See, no matter how I try to gain control of MY actions with MY grey matter......
Malaslah~
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