six word memoir

aching elbows, naked eyes, straight teeth.

new years (P11)

new years (i)//

it is another year,

another three, six, five of do not fears

a reset button pressed by one

resolutions: pointless unless done

what is this counting down?

shouting, singing, counting down!

cold and drunk we're dounting cown (?)

sad and stricken, i feel no different

if everyday were a new years

fervor burns with zeal and fire

people gather with desire

three, six, five, begone, my fears!

that i would sleep and rest my head

more perfect than that of morn

that i yawned long and drowsy

sun in face and out of bed

then how alive would we all be?

one two seven four five six three

another year of no more fears

sober tears and unclogged ears

hallelujah everyday,

in my quiet i rest and pray

today would be for work and play

growing, changing, in this way-

-becoming fully what we are

for this our Father in Heaven art

earnest working for our home

take me! hold me! i am your own.

clarity//

love those that they don't, and those that won't do.

devotion//

i have been the rocky ground

i have been the choked-by-thorns

i have been on the fence

i have been in the dark masqueraded as middle ground

i have been lying

i have been dirty

i have been wrong

was blind, but now i see.

fashion blogs//

i read a lot of fashion blogs lately

or, skimmed through them

it is so interesting to see these creative people

piece such ordinary picks into an extravagant work

and then i got really excited and wanted to do that too;

DIY shirts, buttons, high heels; hair; make-up; accessorize; belts, buckles, charms, silver, glitter; glasses, sun-glasses, ray-bans; purse, bag, leather, snakeskin; wool, cotton, cloth, sewing, thread, needle, buttons; stockings, socks, bare feet, panty-hose, fish-net; painted toes, french manicured fingers, nail polish, bottom coat, top coat, clear coat, sparkles coat, filing, trimming, cutting, smoothing, shining, stars; bracelets, chunky, thin, chain, buttons, necklaces, chunky, thin, chain, buttons; earrings, dangly, hoop, expensive, cheap, studs; thrifted, guess, diy, armani, value village; puffy sleeves, tight sleeves, loose sleeves, no sleeves, shrug, shoulders, knees, toes, my fair lady, buttons, buttons, buttons: RAH RAH RAH!

but: in the end it is all in vain,

these things blow away, and who is looking?

cunning is the whisperer, he entices and dresses as white.

new years (ii)//

it's new years every day

there is a difference

between saying it, and moving;

and there is a difference

between today and tomorrow's today.

story: 'Good Mourning'

(this was originally written for my bfh culminating project,

but i like it, so here it is)

The boom of far off thunder that still shakes the cages of the mourners' bodies is the bass for this song named Mourning. The deep roar is harmonized by rain that comes down in separate drops, like a million little worlds, or a big one broken into pieces; rain the falling of a quiet snare. And above all else, the plucking of heartstrings enunciated by silent tears that mixes with the million worldlettes: the melody of melancholy. It would be appropriate to have tall men with black hats and small women with black skirts, satin and silk lightly brushing the muddied floor, adding to the Mourning, but in this gloom of an afternoon, the umbrellas are red and yellow and aqua, vigilantly fighting the sky and adding a sun to the fray of black clothes with black faces.

A voice begins and the hush, hush descends on the crowd, blank faces downcast black and black clothes wet. A girl has died today; a girl has died a week ago, today. She was far too young; she had an entire life to live. God has a reason or maybe it wasn't reason. Maybe it was an accident; I'm sure it was. Murmurs that one hums are exact replicas of the murmurs beside it, all as one humming the same, blank faces, black shoes, umbrellas coloured for the wrong day. 

She was a good girl, she was my beautiful daughter, she listened to me and looked me in the eyes, she kissed me goodnight, she said sorry. She rebuked the singing crowd, she wrote poems and stories, she got an A in every course; she was a good girl. Voices murmur the same humming tune, the same Mourning. On different faces the same sigh, the same: she was too young. And as the distant thunder ended its last boom, boom of the hour, the rain began to lighten so that you could count the colours in each drop; the umbrellas needed not to fight the sky anymore. The song was done as was the day, but on each person's tongue, oh, oh, this girl was too young.

2Cor12.9

 
my grace is sufficient for you,
for my power is made perfect in weakness

pantyhose & comfy clothes

VYBE PARTY

yesterday, i went to the vybe christmas party with a bunch of friends, talented in the dancing ways (and of course, those that lacked in body movement skill, of which i was in the latter group). it was pretty fun to dress up, even though we had to walk in the cold to jto's car (it was SO cold) and squish ourselves plus ten thousand bags (of which nine thousand were carrie's) and a dilemma between wearing heels or flats and another dilemma between whether to poof thy hair or not to poof thy hair and then figuring out we were very late and then really figuring out everyone else was even later.

when dilemmas consist of shoes and hair... you know what kind of night it is.

anyways, we got there and i went to the front with a bunch of brave and non-brave-old-timers to learn how to do some hip-hop to No Air. it was pretty fun, except that i can't dance and my flats wouldn't let me turn properly and it was at the front of the room and the camera was pointed right at us. and the instructor (danny?) was pretty funny, he used the words "ka-ka" a lot. Like, "the world, revolves around...KA-KA!"

i met some new people... okay i met one new person (josh, i think, cherie's friend). but it was pretty fun, even though i had to put up with jto & ev all night making fun of me, touching my poof (yes, i decided to poof the hair; and wear flats for dancing & heels for everything else), imitating eagles... you get the point.

the rest of the night was watching dances & playing 'embarrassing get to know each other games', of which i played... none. but it's okay, watching was really funny. anyways, the dances were SO GOOD! i am so proud of my dancing flashing radiant friends for being able to move their bodies so toughly & fluidly & beautifully. but yo, L.O.V.E (ladies of vybe entertainment) were very, very experienced. they did one to Black & Gold and it was very scandalous but also very captivating at the same time. and then the guys imitated them which was crazy hilarious.

AFTER VYBE

and then afterwards we loitered around for a long time just around the angus glen lobby; i sat on the ledge and it felt so peaceful after a kind of hectic night. we were watching this lone hockey player just messing around on the ice, and i felt kind of like i wanted some piece of that. to be able to do something at 10 at night or 5 in the morning because you love it so much and are dedicated to it. it's like writing songs, or books, or drawing or running. i wish i could play guitar; maybe i'll marry someone who can and we'll be a two-person team, kind of like the gypsy parade (which i highly recommend; www.myspace.com/gypsyparade i think it was). but anyways, a friend was being silly and yelling at the hockey player through the glass about how she loved him and of course she didn't mean it but she was kind of serious, asking us "do you think he hears me? i love him so much!" and i was kind of scared. i hope i don't come off like that, and i only hope that because sometimes i am not real. and i know this because what i am sometimes isn't what i look like. of course, everyone struggles with this, but i can pinpoint many small times. i have to watch what i say, especially to people like my friend, who i was scared of and scared for. this reminds me of this other friend who was wearing high healed boots but felt she was too formal so she asked her mom to bring her her normal boots. i was just so... i just thought it was such a small thing, it shouldn't matter so much! no one really notices (she didn't meet any new people as far as i know) and no one really cares (people were wearing heels). i just thought it was a kind of waste of gas and made me realize that i spend too much time on these kind of things too.

PANTYHOSE & COMFY CLOTHES

it was fun dressing up, but i find real beauty in quiet mornings and snow filtered sunlight. i was kind of feeling odd in my flashy clothes so in the middle of the night i changed into my sweats, cardigan & tank top and boots. i felt so much more natural. why did i dress up? it was pretty. why did i change? it was beautiful. no, it actually wasn't. well, it was in my own way but i only wrote that because it sounds like i can use it for some (cheesy if done badly) book.

i imagine sitting on a window ledge and playing music. since i can't play guitar, i imagine sitting on a window ledge and singing to someone else playing guitar. i need to find a house with a sit-able ledge.

i really like listening to simon & sam jam, they were made for each other, so it seems.

THOUGHTS ON THOUGHTS

i have rarely blogged so... bluntly. it reminds me of the diary days.

sometimes, sundays make me unhappy. but i am finding some beauty and joy in this, even if it's slowly. i think God is very beautiful, i am going to go outside and shuffle the snow because that is beautiful too.

*i am so dumb! i wrote "shuffle" and i definitely meant "shovel"

BREATHING

hi God, you are beautiful. please help me; i have many small troubles that are probably from bigger troubles that i care not to admit. also, please help me & evangel for writing the media thing because it's due tuesday. also, i am very, very afraid of beginning my bfh project, i am making it bigger in my mind than i ought, sorry God! and also, i'm very lazy please forgive me - as in i always try to change but my things don't work. and... yeah, please help me learn your voice because sometimes i'm not sure if i'm listening right but other times i hear so clearly! i am just a baby sometimes, sorry God.

you are the joy i find when i go to sunday services and see the apart-s so clear i don't know what to do. you are my only hope! also, my chest kind of hurts because i don't know how to breathe yet. also, my knuckles are calloused from the holes. my eyes are bloated, and i think about myself a lot. i am the worst. and today there was an empty seat and i was very happy and it was filled by green and i was even happier. he's very beautiful, God. please help me learn from his examples.

PARTING

heartbreak movie: doctor zhivago

i am so tearful for my mom & dad,

thank you so much they found each other. thank you with all i am, God.

*i just reread some of my august posts.

i am expressive most when i am sad.

beauty is the wisps of snow

OUTSIDE

it so, so beautiful

the wisps of snow

blowing fast and ferociously through the wild

over the pond that is a jar of ice

across the field that is frozen

and it is like magic and it is science and it is God

it is the flying away of a thin layer of snow

across the ice water, creating crystals and wings

it was so fun! running through the snow

as idiotically as we could, i even fell

and feeling as if we were saving polar bears

and just being free in our zipped up coats

like eskimos, like a grade three child

who didn't WANT to zip up, but we did.

back home,

i shovelled snow for the walk

and even a bit for my neighbours,

but i was scared they would come out

and peer upon me with new strangeness

i wanted to be unknown, and it felt good.
it feels good to do good, to make good

to be good, and not be recognized.

INSIDE

when i got in, i went upstairs and realized

that my legs were entirely frozen

but my tingle toes and feet were hot

and touching my foot to my thigh crossed leg

when i was washing my feet in the sink (i like to do that a lot now)

it felt like i was connecting something incomprehensible

hot blooded toes and numbed thighs, two enemies or lovers;

i felt very beautiful.

LOVERS

today at civics, it felt very good to just

relax and sit and laugh and talk about nothing

and realizing this nothing talk was not to fill the silence

not just a conversation, but a comfort.

i said that i wanted a guy who could sing and play guitar

and evangel said that it was twilight brainwashing me,

but it isn't. what i meant was, i want a boy, a man

who appreciates the beauty of simplicity,

someone who would sing even if they suck a lot,

some smiling person who would grow with me,

some person who would let me try and understand,

some running through grass boy,

someone stroking my hair.

i don't know, these are all things that aren't really what i am looking for

but just something to add to the heart,

i know! but i can't voice it!

i don't really want to talk about guys right now,

though it's always a subject that's easy to get into.

BREAK

so this break, i don't want to stress myself about bfh

but i don't know how i can do it without stress

God, help me. this isn't about the marks, after all.

what can i do for you today?

dedicated: sing

instead of making pizza pops

i will blog about a friend,

because i said i would.

SING

hi my name is SiNg

i used to have hard sharp hair./

i play the guitar and drums

and sing pretty freakin' well/

i have pretty cool music

and like to give it to cool people//

hi my name is SiNg

i now have soft long hair/

i am as tall as a tower

and i skyrocket every day/

i am very mean

but other than that, i am okay.//

the kooks (8)

THE KOOKS

are absolutely gorgeous

their style is indie and freedom,

they are not restrained

and his voice, oh sweet like, his voice:

"my little one" (that's from matchbox)

i like to pretend

that he sings it to me.

HOME WORK

i am digressing, back to you:

bfh journal extension.

clear fog

LOOKING BACK

not just moods

they weren't just moods

they were deep seated feelings

of down thick grey, the fog penetrating even the blanket of sky

like the stars held no more light, like the thousands of light years

didn't exist and now i know all the sky-fires have died.

of flamboyant happiness, bouncing in my seat with love for all

like a balloon that wouldn't stay, like a hollow boned creature

that could just jump and forever land on nothing.

that was saturday and

that was sunday this week.

LOVE

so on sunday i came with a will to listen to God

and He spoke to me, recalling the dark and the consuming smiles

and how i reacted to my 'mood swings' and what i was like

and i realize that love should not be dictated by what i feel

love should be how i act towards others aside from the roller coaster;

and just because it's genuine doesn't mean i don't have a choice

i can be genuine and choose what i do at the same time

because to be true to myself i must be true to Love.

A QUESTION WAS THE ANWER

God told me to ask the question:

How can i love today in this place?

and i will forget and i will remember

but i will try

i think this love brings me out of the fog

because i have a will to do and even if i don't come out

it's alright; purpose calls and is really, really strong

SAY

And he said it was good.

freeze the sanctuary

EVANGEL

is not funny.

he is dumb and right here.

GO AWAY.

DO YOU HEAR ME?!

stop laughing. wow.

goodbye.

LYRICAL WORDS

i am cold, but the hard-tries the easy-words are coming in five

and in one is the savage cry of a whipped man, blood on his hands,

fingers dripping like a hard flower petals that the Yell will buy

tonight for maybe a dollar or at a more jazzy place, a five

i am afraid, there will be no one. but not lonely,

never because this is the DEGENERATES.

scream? maybe. my fingers freeze as i tap tap tap, tap wild blows

cold cold cold freeze take back hold, would you not agree?

i have lost all dignity, start from the ground, or maybe somewhere not even

somewhere that goes to the place where we try

cry me a river so i can drown in tomorrow

crumbling beige towers over

and the sorrow began, because

there was joy in the Lord, but she

didn't see it and why force the man?

why force him? BUT NO, it wasn't the force

it was love, can't you see? CAN'T YOU SEE?!

oh baby, sweet baby, don't you see?

oh dear, the tears are welling,

the hands are numb, they don't feel

anything at all, but the towers

that do all

but

crumble.

liquid sugar

oh i don't hold my breath

and i don't hold my tongue

and i know that you know that i don't back down

to no one

to no one //

oh you should have stayed home

you should have known better

yet i melt in your mouth like liquid sugar

you thought you were gonna throw it back in my face

but tell me how do my leftovers taste? //

MUSIC

this song is the epitome of catchy music

and the worst lyrics, put together, ever.

how much does this go against everything i am striving to live out? how many times do lyrics throw our dirty selves back to our faces - where we sing and shout them and revel in them. it's quite disgusting, when in the right (or wrong) context. we are striving to become fully human, to live with humility and peace, quietness and rest, strength and solitude, but tell me how do my leftovers taste? i am grotesquely attracted to this song, like it is candy for the insane, for those who are prideful enough to not back down.

recently, the funniest/worst song has come out: IF YOU SEEK AMY (fu-k me), by britney spears. it is honestly, so terrible, but so hilarious: how come you have resorted your lovely self to sing elementary school taboos, spelling what you cannot say - sorry, could not - say, and laughing because you must be the bravest person in the world. breaking rules is an obsession for our chaos-ridden age, it is insane, it is ridiculous.

we like to think of ourselves as the generation that revolts, the generation of 'freedom'. we are, in a sense, but we have no idea what it took to give us this 'freedom', and thus we squander and pull, bickering over trivial things like... like... clothes.

CLOTHES

i don't know what i think about clothes. for a while there, i let clothes make me rather than just as a covering for my private (however lacking in my typical asian figure -  but i think it's good for me, if we all had the same body that would not be cool) parts. but now it's like, throw on whatever you like, who actually remembers what you wore? who cares? i am so silly :). but, if style matters, i am developing another style called: i think my clothes are cool enough that i can put anything together and it should generally look good. and i think it's true, i mean, t-shirt and jeans, what happened? i remember my mom used to pick out my clothes, and the reason i chose clothes was because i loved it and not because someone else did.

nice shirt! thanks. i made it. not.

TODAY

today, i have organized my life to do the following things: english journals, bfh project, anthro rev. of lit. pt2, kna basement decor, kna wtf night, and then chilling with cherie and dressing her up for vybe photoshoot. and then, of course, saturday night alive tonight @ RHCCC. however, i have already stepped outside the lines and blogged instead of doing english which means i will have less time for something else. it is fine, be spontaneous! i will get everything done i am sure.

whoever you are, good day to you! (good being subjective to meaning)

E

ps) nts: grandma.

munching our world away

i saw this in my school's washroom

(put up for BUY NOTHING DAY)

and loved the idea because it is true

which is sad. very, very sad.

we are just munching our world away.

(illustrated by: Chris Madden)

i lied about posting

okay so i am not posting everyday

i lied, forgive me.

if i make promises, i have to have plans.

i can't build and burn houses,

i can't find then fight neverland.

music inspired me today

as did rachel hon, her post & her comment box.

ps) but lettheletters.blogspot.com might ... work?