all begins with L

on why i’m at peace: this is a cut&paste so don’t be offended. )

“Alright, here we go.

Eight months on and I am declaring that my quarter life crisis is coming to a proper wrap. After series of interviews, taking aims and pursuing ‘proper’ jobs, I walked away from the last interview feeling utterly relieved knowing that I wouldnt be taking up the position despite putting on a good show.

After an hour of grilling the CEO looked at me and say that I am not one who value sales as much as marketing. I looked at him and went “absolutely.” We all know that a good product is a matter of being communicated, sales is a by-bonus end results. Chey-bah. )

After which I recommended him a good restaurant to have lunch in and he asked me to join him. But then I thought my time with him that day was already over stretched.

I am however meeting him again for possible collaboration. I’m beginning to embrace this mantra of working with people, not for people, even if you’re in a company. And that’s exactly what I’m gearing on with this coffee stint.

True enough, couple of weeks down the road, I saw the present in light. I start to work with what’s around me, my customers, my colleagues, the bosses and just working with the present value.

After seven months I’ve gradually make known to the managers of what I really want to do professionally and right now I’m co-interior designing the new coming cafe these guys are setting up. End of August I’ll be heading to Italy for the Biennale.

Coming back I’ll be starting an introductory course on Interior Design, not a masters nor a bachelor but a starting point. I’m beginning to love London for what it’s worth. Even today taking a new bus route home, I chance upon a road I’ve yet to stroll by.

It hasn’t been easy, I’ve made fools out of myself and still catching myself doing so at times, I’ve gotten quiet lately, perhaps having something to do makes you talk less, and if you talk less then you’ll really find something to do. The equation seems to work at present moment.”

THE FOLLOWING IS NOT CUT&PASTE, SO PAY ATTENTION. )

well, yes the ceo extended a dinner invitation next week. why not. and there’s a new distraction in town. when i get a name, i’ll let you know.

i found an interior design course from st martin which i’ll be signing up for when i get back from Italy. starts in October. Lola leaves London for good tomorrow, i’m quite sad about it actually.

i kinda fought with Sanran, I don’t know how to put it across to him that I can’t be friends with him anymore unless we completely put aside this intimacy.

on a more trivial note, i’m meeting ms. elizaveta tomorrow.

man?women?man?women? is never the question. )

you, i miss, as always.

now what next
for the coming decade

ps. i miss the family

you keep completing my sentences in snippets of half seconds
and when we talk the world becomes a background
they make a mockery of us
and we run around on the streets like the world is our playground
just for that moment
with you it’s all swings and slides again
with all its cliché

who are you

a male friend, in his attempt to woo me, made a statement:

“the woman’s figure is an inexhaustible subject of discussion.”

i said, i can’t put that in better words.
in his despair, he said.
cheeky bastard.

there’s a certain ritual to ushering in the new year, or rather if you’re a less futuristic person (with a history major) you would say instead, ‘to wrap up the year’. And they are almost accurately as follows:

a) reading old letters/blog post
b) scrolling through phone numbers
c) and delete those you’d probably not need to remember about (or pursue) in the new phase of your life
d) decide whether you really should delete their numbers
e) chart how old your virtual pets are, namely your blog, your flickr acccount, your twitter account, ourchart account, hotmail account??!
f) re reading certain post and stomach a guffaw, re re re reading another post
g) that brings a trip down memory lane that turns into another lane, then goes waaay into the back lane
h) and go “omg C, look what i found!!”
i) and go bloody hell! my blog is turning three!

the flings, the affairs, the trials, the pursuits, the fantasies that partially morphed into bitter sweet realities, here we we go again.

You spit out words that don’t form a sentence, let alone a story. It was indeed a fantasy.

no i have not found a proper paying job
yes my internship will start tomo at ten am
no they will be not be paying me until perhaps i can compensate for my minimal turkish
yes i will be teaching english in the evenings
no i have not found an apartment/room/shoebox to rent
yes i am staying with a friend at the moment
no i have not had baklava since i got here
yes i will be here indefinitely

no it’s not a glamorous affair
yes i might potentially be in love

no i have no guts to pursue it
yes i am a doofus

‘That’s the beauty of hitting rock bottom. Pain of changing is lesser than the pain of staying.’

companionship and personal space

the extremes can be very rewarding despite the ideal of balancing the two

but the struggle lies in the process of transcending from one zone to another

and by default it is harder for the one adapting

And so you asked me, what is the meaning of that?

Admire, is the attributes of someone I adore. To liplock with, that would be nice.

Crush, is the physical attributes of someone I adore. To liplock with now and now would be my greatest lust.

Love, is that someone I adore. To liplock and then fight and make merry with, and that cycle is the greatest comfort of them all.

And so you asked, where do you stand? As of recent turn of events, I am not one to answer that, unfortunately.

Six shes and a Saturday night make a lost deal feels like a sneeze of a fuss

Amongst them…

She who shared her favorite book with me a decade ago, one that shapes my destiny in more miraculous ways than one

She whom I have learn to appreciate the company of her spirit that compliments mine

She who laughs at my (egg) joke when every one else fails to empathize

She who appeared like a shadow long overdue and brought peace back to the heart

She whom I have endless mindless pointless conversations with and will always do till death do us apart

…may we flourish beyond our wildest imagination, my ladies.

Beyond the ridge to the left
You asked me what I want
Between the trees and cicadas
Singing round the pond
I spent an hour with you
Should I want anything else?

One grin and wink
Like the neon on a liquor store
We were 16, maybe less
Maybe a little more
I walked home smiling
I finally had a story to tell

And now in autumn time, lullaby
Sing our newborn love to sleep
My brother told me he saw you there
In the woods, morning on Christmas Eve
Waiting

I met my wife at a party
When I drank too much
My son is married
And tells me we don’t talk enough
Call it predictable
Yesterday my dream was of you

Beyond the ridge to the west
The sun had left the sky
Between the trees and the pond
You put your hand in mine
Said time has bridled it’s bow
But I remember you too

And now in autumn time, lullaby
Sing our newborn love to sleep
I dreamed that I traveled and found you there
In the woods, morning on Christmas Eve
Waiting

“16, Maybe Less” - Iron & Wine

Apart from picking up tricks of the trait in record speed, I am dragged into the world of ideologies, critical theories and political movements of the 20th Century. Work (my internship) has reached a point of surrealism, mentally and physically.

The Situationist International; what has this got to do with real estate?

Just when I was about to bring strucure back to the office, I began to see the light; “The Situation, the Spectacle then come the need for the Recuperation because the mass has to consume to understand.”

This (next) project of ours could either turn out fuckin’ brilliant, or I could jolly well be merely wanking off at work, intellectually or not.

“I take my desires for reality because I believe in the reality of my desires”
- Anonymous graffiti, Paris 1968

At a comprehension rate of 35% on this new affair, I shall not attempt to explain, not even to myself, not yet.

Have you ever been in a situation in which the more you avoid, the more it confronts.
Be it someone or something.
Is it merely the mechanism of consciousness that divides our attention to be particularly sensitive to events that one has subconsciously attempt to deny, and therefore it reverse the process entirely?

God works in such a way that one will confront his biggest burden, if not heart to heart, face to face (or side to side) if not for every second, every day. Almost.
And I am highly amused and enlightened by his antics, more than anything else.

Because in circles, we breathe.

UK crew to be freed ‘as gift to Britain’.

An adult version of the Rugrats world.

If there’s a song to sum it up, it’s that of Frank Sinatra’s ~

“And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and ev’ry highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
“Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way”

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

Yes, it was my way”

Half a moon to another new year, lingers a familiar pattern of a great start but hardly a matchable closure. I am bothered once again by what is to come and bothered even more by what is to be left. The future is evil because it neglects the present and the past equals the equation of the two mishaps.

Call me pessimistic, or perhaps this is merely a symptom of adulthood.

I anticipate the coming escapade with a truck load in mind. Let there be a distruption this time around, because I am in dire need of one.

Dear Natasha,

I pray that you’re in safe hands. Please come back soon. We miss you, alot.

Love,
Purrr Mates.

I yearn to crave again
Yet each night begins with merely the next day in line
Like having a meal without hunger
Wihout pain, there is no pleasure.