To ten million fireflies
I’m weird ’cause i hate goodbyes
i got misty eyes as they said farewell
but ill know where several are
if my dreams get real bizarre
’cause i saved a few and i keep them in a jar
Owl City – Fireflies
Random thoughts.
That’s what you get as they flow into your brain cells once you stare long enough into empty space.
Here I am, semi-consciously wi th wild imaginations running through my mind while waiting for my football game to start. While most sane people are asleep, I, myself had just finish watching “Up in the Air” and putting my thoughts in words.
Of course nothing beat the epicness of ‘500 days of Summer’ for men our generations in describing the reality of what we go through, ‘Up in the Air’ on the other hand left me clueless and dumbfound on what I was actually pursuing all this while.
I wasn’t talking about the part where he fires people for a living, but the single, travel free , no boundaries life that I so often seek is portrayed brilliantly in the show.
Many acquintance has come to me and shared their experiences of traveling and working at the same time. Most of them wasn’t good, unless of course if you have no commitment back home. No car loan, no mortgage for the house , or better still, no one who has any emotional connection with you. Family doesn’t count though, you’ll know they’ll be there for better or worse.
Just being alone. Lonely, but you’ll get through it.
Since I’ve been flying solo most of my life, this has always been one of the experience that I wish to have before I actually settle down.
Many would disagree with me,and I understand their skepticism
I mean, which insane person would want to travel alone and be so selfish?
Working has always been stereotyped since the dawn of men. Chasing paychecks after paychecks to pay the bills, its all written all over when we were young. Relationships they get messy when things don’t go too well. Let’s face it, not everyday a couple get honey-coated experience.
You’ll understand better if you’re on the same page as me.
I wanted that. The whole package.
Not anymore.
There’s more to life than that. It’s not too late if we realize it earlier,no?
Right now, I just want someone to dance with. A co-pilot perhaps?
Its funny how we all want the things we can’t get.
Even with the faintest of hope, somewhere along the line we just don’t know where to start. OR how to begin.
Life’s just one big mystery ain’t it.
I knew I’ll meet the real her someday.
But I never thought it would be so soon.
The one they called the elf, with an E so big it spelt Ecstatic.
The distinguish petals on the bare skin of her back marks her presence as she weave through the crowd with her friend on one hand.
She wasted no time dancing to the beat of music so loud its deafening to the ears.
She look taller compare to the pictures, but the charming Eurasian beauty clearly still preserves in her even from across the room under the dimly lit lights.
I was dumbstruck for a moment until a pat on the shoulder brought me back to reality.
She asked, “What chu looking at? , Any hot girls you’re looking ?”.
I said , “Plenty in the room, but only 1 caught my attention”.
“Which one, which one?” in all her excitement she asked,
I told her the lil part of her, how I grow fond of her writing skills like I knew her in person.
The truth is, I barely know the person I’m describing.
Funny ain’t it. How to world has come to, telling a friend about a stranger, prescribing her through the words from a personal agenda.
The sad thing is, the only connection we had are probably some words that I’ve left in her blog. Comments are meant to be that way. Short. Simple. And 2 weeks down the road, we’ve probably forgotten all about it.
Things that doesn’t matter, matters to some people.
We get carried away with silly little things like affection and hoping for a fairy tale like fantasy to hit on us but it never does. Not when your balls are too heavy to move. Not when your guts tell you to go, but your nerve wrecks your confidence and the only scenario that plays in the head is the one where rejection plays the main role.
Hopeless.
Battle lost without a fight. It’s already half lost when she’s dancing with another guy. A man so muscular, he puts Zac Efron to shame. Minus 10 points buddy.
I guess I’m never game for all this. The whole dating process, the cat chases the mouse is nothing but history in its past.
The part where we introduce ourselves as a stranger may seem easy to some people with lots of confidence, but its by far probably one of the most difficult thing in the world to do, especially to someone you thought you’ve known for ages, but she doesn’t know you even existed. hah.
I hope someone’s sharing my perceptions. The funny side of life seems to get the upper hand in all these.
Oh well, just another night not to look back at.
Maybe one day second chance given, I’ll gather enough courage to walk up and say hi.
Are you listening?
*sigh*
Imma just bury my head in the sand once again.
Dear Jessica,
You’ve asked me to stop writing these letters.
You’ve told me they will never change things between us.
But I can’t, Jessica. I can’t just… let you go.
Even Darth Vader, an evil Sith lord, couldn’t leave his son to die at the end of “Return of the Jedi”.
You make me feel so safe, Jessica.
So warm. I want to crawl up inside you.
Like Luke Skywalker crawled up inside his tauntaun to protect himself from the sub-zero temperatures of Hoth, where the Rebel Alliance was hiding from the Galactic Empire.
For you, Jessica,
I would dive into the Sarlacc Pit of Tatooine (Luke’s home planet) and be slowly digested for a thousand years, like the bounty hunter Bobba Fett. (Even though in the Expanded Universe of the “Star Wars” novels, Fett eventually escapes, which creator George Lucas has accepted as official S-Dub cannon. But my simile still stands.)
Please, Jessica, give you and me a try – or as wise Jedi once said, “Try not…Do, or do not.
There is no try.
” Come on, Jessica. Let’s “do” it. Let’s French.
Then again, maybe you’re right.
Maybe we’re from different galaxies, far far away from one another.
Maybe you’re “not the droid” I’m looking for,
and I should give up and “move along”…with my heart.
May the Force be with You,
Patrick (3rd row, History)
-source orignated from uk love site-
Distinguishly innocent yet amusing.
Friends; are like treasured story books,content written and determined only by you and you alone.
Each one tells a different story;
Some are short,
painful yet memorable,
some unexpected,
abrupt endings,
one hit wonders,
witty,
tear jerking,
lots of LOLs ,
some that we can’t live without,
and most are unfinish series.
I still have many books to write, tonnes of unwritten pages yet to fill in.
It’s a good sign I guess, proves that creativity still running high, yet to be discovered, and only a matter of time.
Writing is a life long experience thingy. The only time you put down the pen is when you’re dead. Days when you don’t write, are the days you’re resting or maybe when you’re alone. Writer’s block.
Even so, you’ll still be writing, a story about yourself, the never ending journey of the unfortunate, and the only book without a full stop.
But not all stories go lovey dovey well. There will be endings, and I think the hardest to write are the few last chapters or knowing how the last sentence would be. It usually doesn’t end with goodbyes. I’ll make a point somehow to leave some room, hoping one day I’ll have the chance to write a sequel.
Then there are books which are too good to be true, the one with fancy covers and a mysterious lock with a key. Dangerous books, I tell ya.
You get carried away writing and reading those books you forget about others. If it turns out good, its a keepsake, but if it ain’t, the key usually ends up at the bottom of a lake.
The reason why this post came about is because of the past books that I remembered but chucked aside. Place by the corner, collecting dust and once used to be my favourite past times. Maybe I’ve grown, and the books are not to my liking anymore, but that shouldn’t be an excuse because I used to write in em’, and its not finished,
I just don’t know what else it is to write in it.
I miss those books. Those that I can just pick up and know what’s coming next or how the plot goes.
I’m growing old, and I hate that fact. I need to rearrange my books, un-dust the old ones, bring in the new ones and continue with the current ones.
It’s a tough act to balance, but I need it. I need it so that when I look back 20 or 30 years from now, I have my grand collection of hardcovers, all stacked and arranged majestically on my book shelf each with its own glowing title.
They say don’t judge a book by its cover, its the content that matters, to me,
it’s the ONLY thing that matters.
Do you remember when you were a kid playing Micro Genius and it wouldn’t work?
You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid who owns one knew it, but how did we all know how to fix the problem?
There was no internet or message boards or FAQ’s.
We just figured it out.
Today’s kids are soft
You’ll know you’re late if the girl sends you her wedding invitation card.
