Have i been that shallow???

I never realized the amount of satisfaction I would get out of blogging… To just whine away about how things are not going right or that certain B**CH is ruining your life or an amusing incident… Bloody hell I am getting obsessed…

And that wouldn’t be the first thing I have obsessed about…

Form 2: Musical instruments, shiny ones.

Form 3: Mascara and false eyelashes (still am).

Form 4: Impressing people (I did the weirdest things).

Form 5: Bootleg pants (u don’t know how many pants I have ruined because I could not fit into one off the rack) and Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True.

Form L6: Still Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True.

Form U6: Losing weight and fashion (I was sometimes a walking fashion disaster!!!).

Varsity Freshman: Dancing and a relationship.

2nd year: God brother (this was totally idiotic!!!).

3rd year: Mr. P, dancing and dance makeup.

4th year: Only Mr. P.

Post graduation: Still Mr. P.

Masters 1st year: Losing weight.

*stares in disbelieve at the list*
Strangely enough, obsessing over something has made me strive to achieve the very thing I yearned for.

The shiny musical instrument is sitting in my store room, moaning its very existence. A waste of cash but at least the satisfaction of owning it is fulfilled. :-P

I know sufficient techniques and have enough tools to do good eye makeup.

I learnt that being good at something on your own is the only way to impress anyone.

Boot leg pants are a fashion faux pas for me because it makes me look stout. My first taste of love’s painful sting came from being hopelessly infatuated by Mr. I Think I Am Too Good to Be True and with that an experience of what raging hormones can do.

I learnt about good fashion and how to dress myself to conceal what I lack (or sometimes have too much of) and reveal what made me look good.

I was one of my former varsity’s best Indian male dancers and was too preoccupied to have a relationship (I thank God now).

God brother turned out to be the second infatuation in my life and I was deceived by this shadow that he was there to look after me. That, was definitely a disaster I should’ve seen coming, plus, it happened to be love’s 2nd sting for me, not to mention a huge reality check!!!

Mr. P, well that I can’t even talk about… Still picking up myself from this last plunge into dark waters.

Losing weight, 14 kilos and 2 dress sizes smaller in 3 months!!!

Cookies and Cakes used to mock me about all these crazy fascinations I used to have…
CnC: You should just marry a bootleg pants!!! (oh wait, or was it Mr. Metro Me, whom said it???)

CnC: Hahahaha!!! I still remember how you used to make false eyelash out of paper and Bespectacled Snake and you used to stick on your eyelids!!!

CnC (when he got drunk one night): Please drive carefully Mr. Fat Man!!! I don’t wanna get a ticket!!! (Why did this last one pop up??? Hmmmmpppphhh…..)

Anyways, I am doing well now, no more hideous outfits, no more macha conventions, no more paper false eyelash (I get the real thing these days), no more being fat and no more being hopelessly in love. *fakes jitters* I know Cookies and Cakes, I deserve the three C’s, Caviar, Champagne and Chanel (maybe not Chanel anymore, so overplayed, maybe Cavalli???)

Grandma's place......

Grandma’s place was filled with bees… Curse my cousin sis who burnt the entire bunch of them before I could snap a picture!!! It was full of drama, like it was a swarm of killer bees and the entire household freaked out, and panic shouts and;

“Don’t go there its filled with them!!!”

“There’s one more there!!!”

“CURSE THE BEES!!! Kill them!!! KILL THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But the truth was, it was only about 30-40 of them and they didn’t come attacking in a whole swarm, they came in groups of 3’s and 4’s in succession… But de drama!!! I could’ve sworn that it was like reliving an 80’s horror movie of sorts, “ATTACK OF THE KILLER BEE SWARM!!!” with lights turned off in the house so that we can lure them into a place for them to be smacked by newspaper weapons…

*laughs heartily*

My grandma’s place has always been this lively; either it’s something like this or some prayers whereby one of my relatives falls into a deep trance and go berserk or my cousin mysteriously disappears and a whole commotion goes on about why and how he had vanished…

Mom: I want to go to grandma's place tonight. Must do dressing for mama (my uncle-in-law, whom got married to my aunt, my dad’s sister).

Myself: Ok, what time??? How’s mama’s leg??? (was recently hospitalized for a bad leg infection and was back home nursing it, my mom is now helping out, changing de bandages and re-dressing his wound. Mom was an experienced nurse)

Another previous occasion,

Mom: Attha veethele gathering irekkan da… Veliya porena sikkirama vantere… (There’s going to be a gathering at grandma's tonight… If you’re going out better be back early.

So yea, I grew up there, and I love being in my grandma’s wooden house on stilts. The quintessential “kampong” house… So many of our get-togethers and special prayers of sorts has happened there, with children shouting, running around the house chasing each other (I used to be one of them many years ago) and adult women chattering away about how they have been getting the latest scoop on new designs of Indian attire and also the men, playing cards with glasses of Jack Daniels in ice for their drinking pleasure…

I love that place but Cookies and Cakes, always make fun of me because of the amount of food I end up ingesting every time a visit is due…

Mobile text;

Cookies and Cakes: Wat r u doing up so late?

Myself: At grandma’s place….

Cookies and Cakes: Patti!!! Atta!!! N ate!!! Helloooo…..*waves frantically*

Myself: LMAO!!! I jus told dem u said hi….

*tells people in the house that CnC said hi*

Cookies and Cakes: Pls dun go parading around wif my reply. k…its embarrassin… SO wat hav u ate ther??? Sum chicken curry with thosai n lotsa ghee???

Text messaging ends, well, at least for the time being…

My grandma and her daughter, my aunt, are great cooks… They make the best Indian curries, sweets and dishes… I love having dinners at their place but sadly it comes with a heavy calorie tag… But more than the fact that food is definitely lip-smacking delicious, it’s all the love my aunt puts into her cooking that makes the difference… Every time I am there I am taken back to revisit my childhood… I had a very interesting time growing up in a house where grandma had chicken coops, we had mango trees (which heavily bears fruits during its peak; bags and bags of juicy orange fleshy mangoes), and there’s this constant buzz of relatives around the house… Sometimes I miss those carefree, jolly, gay days when all we were worried about was our unsettled Math homeworks (12x3= …………36 rite???)

Fancy chasing a rooster for slaughter anyone????

India, a remote village, a whole lot of peculiar circumstances

1st May 2010, I woke up at 7.59 am crying... I had one of those dreams which I hate to have about the person I love. Although it was in a very amusing setting (I was India and belonged to one of the remote villages there), it was serious enough to make me cry. We (myself, Mr. P and Confused Gal, the person whom Mr. P fell head over heels for), were back in the village like long lost sons and daughters of the land, whom had left the “nest” in pursuit of a better life in the city and are now back to rejoice with our home people and awaiting a promising answer from Confused Gal to marry Mr. P.

*shakes head in disbelieve*

I just thought to myself, how ridiculous can this dream get!!!

Anyway, the story so goes that Confused Gal had given an answer close enough to a “yes” and so a huge marriage ceremony was in due with the entire village in full swing of somewhat an event close to a fiesta. We were supposedly the pride of the village and the villagers having been successful in our education and our careers in the city, in other words, the crème de la crème of the almost God forsaken village (any Tamil movie from the 80’s would give anyone an overview of this scenario I am trying to get across). I was the bridge between the two of them-Mr. P and Confused Gal-having brought them together after a long bout of uptight silence.

Even in the real world this was indeed true and I am trying to bridge the two, in what seems to me every bit delicate a task as painstaking as pinning embroidery onto a couture gown made of luxurious satin silk. I have also made the fact clear that I will stand by Mr. P, because he is the love of my life to Confused gal and the entire Indian residents of the Hostel D5 (yes, so it is apparent that Confused Gal recently found out that I hopelessly adore the very man she loves and with that being said that I was certainly gay-how that happened is an entirely different episode, and nonetheless filled with odd circumstances).

Reverting to the dream, I departed, leaving the happy couple to their glory and hid myself in a place I knew no one would look for me, while Mr. P was in ecstasy that the girl he wanted had finally agreed to holy matrimony.

Alas, Mr. P suddenly realised that something, or rather, someone was missing...

Talking in happy tones in Tamil...

Villager #1: Apperum inimel vazhkai oh ho ne irekke pothe ungalekke (So, life is going to be all bliss for u now)

Mr. P: Nandri, athe sari ne sonnone enakke manasele appe than ore santhosamum nimmatiyum vanteci... (Thanks, only when she agreed, I heaved a sigh of relieve and felt a sense of content)

Villager #2: Apperum enna, siringe aiya, ninge kai kudunge, mothelle kai kudengge... (So that’s settled then, smile, give me a hand shake, give me a hand shake first.)

*villager reaches for Mr. P’s hand and Mr. P accepts the gesture of well-wishing*

Mr. P (looking around searching for something): Ille ne, ennamo kaana pona matiri ore feeling...*pause and realisation* Hari!!!, Hari yenge??? (No brother, I am feeling like something is missing, Hari!!!, where’s Hari?)

Sensing the troubled expression on their most valued groom-to-be’s face the villagers go all out on a head search for me and finally a lady spots me when I decide to take a peek at the commotion happening outside the small hut from which I decided to conceal myself in. Mr. P and Confused Gal lead by a group of villagers almost hundreds strong stood in front of the hut waiting for my reaction. Wind was blowing so fiercely that the “mundani” (part of the Indian attire called the “saree”, thrown over the left shoulder resembling a dangling shawl) of the dark green saree Confused Gal was wearing was airborne (now imagine that under the 80's lenses.

*I literally laugh out loud after reading the paragraph above* (again, I find the scene so ludicrous)

Confused Gal (with serious conviction): Senior, na ok ne sollale... (Senior, I didn’t agree...)

There’s this tradition in my varsity during my undergraduate years among the Indians, whereby we were told to address our seniors, well, “senior” before their names, to affirm their seniority, naturally Confused Gal was my junior and so she called me Senior Hari (personally, I found it rather revolting that the word was used on me as well). Interestingly enough, she used that very term even in my dream set in a remote village in Southern India.

Myself: Yen ***, yen??? Unakke enna tha perechane??? Avan munje pare!!! Unakke innum tha puriyalaya??? *loud sobs* (Why Confused Gal, why??? What is your bloody problem??? Look at his face!!! *points to Mr. P* Don’t you still get it???

~Dream ends~

I wake up and it all felt so real, tears rolling down into my ears, heavy breathing and the fact that something very vivid had been planted into my subconscious or maybe it was already there... I spent the next 5 minutes crying to allow myself to ease into a calmer state of mind, venting out that intense emotional constrain i have been put through. The truth is I am wishing so wholeheartedly that this two people get together and start they journey into their own lives, leaving me to depart from their existence, getting a closure on my dreadfully meaningful time with Mr. P.

Truth be told, although I have come to terms with myself that I shall live a life of abstinence and spirituality (something that, in the means that I have learnt it from, sees the need for a spouse or sexual contentment redundant when it comes to the journey of finding and discovering God), I am yet to fully leave this episode of my life behind me. Finding love in another has been everything my life has meant to me all these breathing years that it was a paradigm shift in my mindset that finding your Creator was the greatest gift, the most truest and everlasting one, that one can bestow upon one’s self... Yes, finding God is not impossible and He’s with you, within you and forever looking after you.

Discover Him and you discover eternal bliss...

As for this dream, although there was a vast difference in the ‘“sites” and sounds’ (Malaysia and southern India, a university campus and a remote village, university students and villagers, jeans and tees and traditional Indian attire), an event with close resemblance to this has actually happened in my life. Which was probably why I was deeply affected by it, enough to write about it here...

of the past and the present

I had a task earlier today but being my lazy, procrastinating self, I only managed to get out around 3pm to do it… A friend, Funny Architect, had left his motorcycle in my possession to safeguard until he’s back from his original abode, Land of The Machas. He also left a very colourful note complete with diagrams and directions to safe keep his belongings (which included his PC, and a lot of gadgets that came along with it). Walking into my campus room 2 days ago after being home for the weekends, I was greeted by this note and spent de next 5 minutes trying to decipher it, laughing hysterically as I went through the piece of paper…

Mr. Funny Architect’s note had one red alert, according to him, his bike had but 5% fuel left *bursts out in laughter after taking a glance at the note again* So I had to ride the bike out to go get fuel. It reminded me of the times when I used to ride out Mr. P’s bike to go get fuel, without being asked or sometimes being told to do so. It was like turning around and facing a part of the Devil of my Past. To draw an analog would be like a lion tamer revisiting that very lion which gnawed off half his limb (whichever it is you chose to imagine), only now he has fully recovered and that particular lion is behind a steel cage. Seeing it would send shivers down his spine but he’s ok now, free of the trauma and ready to bounce back on the rest of the lions with his remaining functioning limbs.

And with that note, the entire day went from exciting (because I was anticipating a movie get together later in the evening) to sober… Full of reflection on the past and yet somehow, not the least affected by it.

My phone ran out of credit, and so I needed to stop by 7-11 to reload. Then again, Mr. Funny Architect’s bike was a little wobbly and I didn’t want to risk getting having to make another U-turn. Besides, I would love to walk down from my room to 7-11 (a mere 10 minute walk) with my earphones plugged in to some of my favourite tunes on my cell phone.

*un peyarai sollum pothe ulnenjil kondaattam, unnode vaazha thane uyir vazhum poraattam……*

“At the mention of your name, my heart celebrates joy. To live with you is why battle with life…”

Funny how these words will only come out from me and not the person I loved so dearly. I started my way to 7-11 with earphones in place and my pouch bag over my shoulder. The wind was blowing in such a manner that I felt it fine tuned itself to hit me in the best possible way, from the most promising of angles, that it swept me away from my restlessness of being lonely and deprived.

First song ends and second one starts playing.

*ore naal siritten, mare naal veretten, unai naanum kollamal kondre putaitene, mannipaaya x3*

“One day I smiled, the next day I was filled with hatred, because I killed and buried you without even having to do so… will u forgive me…#”
*a beautiful flute solo follows for a few seconds*

These words would mean nothing to him because I did no such thing #. But I gave him my entire self; I was his for the taking. I did so because that was what he initially wanted. God knows I was hopelessly in love. God, after all, meant for this to happen. I didn’t know then that I was making a complete fool out of myself. Doing his laundry, his assignments, helping him study for his exams, giving him money, offering advice, giving him comfort (that would include body massages almost every other nite), getting him food, cigarettes and, trust me when I say the list has just begun.

That is all now in the past.

The aura surrounding me on my way back from 7-11 was sober one, but everything was finally at rest. A long lost peace, now within me, an old friend finally together again…

*punches in the numbers for digi reload*

Mr. Loneliness and Mr. Depression, two entities that have managed to sway me for the past 3 years on various occasions are now still showing up, making their ever so prominent entries in my life… But these days it looks like I laugh at Mr. Depression’s pathetic sense of fashion (lifeless and dull is the way he chooses to adorn himself) and Mr. Loneliness, no matter how fashion forward he may be, all he can do is sit and stare at me actually enjoying his silent presence….

*guitar solo plays*(my message ringtone)

Reload successful….

Indeed, I reloaded myself with peace and bliss….

how happiness came to be for me......

How can one book change your entire course of life and on top of it affect your mindset in ways you never thought possible? How can reading through 542 pages of someone else’s life affect yours so profoundly that the very things you used to believe in about the very most prioritized things in life comes tumbling down revealing truths deeper and more significant than your small, incapable mind would ever be able to grasp? I have had one such revelation from one book, and strangely enough it was mom who handed me down this book (my mom was never an avid reader and I never did like the materials she chose to read). It is one of those books that you read and re-read so that the essence of all that excellence in thought and impacts of the words in the book should stay fresh like how scars of past experiences remind you every single moment in life of the lessons you have learnt.

Image source:

http://www.eso-garden.com/index.php?/weblog/C4/P15/

The title: Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahamsa Yogananda

The author: A God-realised Yogi whom took up permanent residence in the West to preach teachings of the Kriya Yoga meditation methods.

Sounds very religious/spiritual doesn’t it? But coming from an average person like me it does seem odd doesn’t it. I know I am not remotely religious, I hardly ever visit the temples being a Hindu, the only reason I carry out Friday prayers, in a preset and orderly manner is so that mom is happy. How can I then be moved by a book like such?

After having read the book I can only say this, tasting coffee and saying that you hate it is more warranted than refusing it by blaming its caffeine content (or anything else that maybe doable), not having known its pleasures at all…

This is one such book that when you put down you will either be forever changed or indifference is what it results in… I am glad that it was the former for me because everything in life has become crystal clear, my destiny even (yes, I do believe we are all destined to be in this world because each and every one of us serve a purpose).

I never thought spirituality would be my calling. Never imagined it would be my one true pursuit in life. But then again, life for me has unfolded in such a way that it was almost pushing me to this one purpose that I could not possibly be wrong. Many “ah-ha!” moments (I know, I know, the clichéd Oprah phrase of many Oprah fans out there, what can you possibly do, shoot me for that???), have come to pass in my life, the ultimate one being the very instance I finished the first chapter of the book, until I put it down… It was then my very existence came to be meaningful to me… I used to beat myself up and also blame God (yes, very easy route it was to make me feel better, blame the bloody Creator of the Universe) for my birth being such an incapable, miss-matched fool, and an utterly pathetic excuse for a human being.

Come present times, I could not love myself more, and even though there will be countless saintly souls out there to contrast myself, I shall take comfort in knowing that I shall never revert to my ways of self-despise.

“No matter what you are doing, keep the undercurrent of happiness. Learn to be
secretly happy within your heart in spite of all circumstances.”

-Paramahamsa Yogananda

The only difference would be I don’t have to be only secretly happy anymore because……

“The happiness of one's own heart alone cannot satisfy the soul; one must try to include, as necessary to one's own happiness, the happiness of others.”

And….

“If you possess happiness you possess everything: to be happy is to be in tune with God.”

-Paramahamsa Yogananda

Writing this made me happy….. And I hope reading this, whoever who does, make yourself happy too…. *carves a hearty smile*

2008???? 2008 was my last post???

I just realised that my blog needs revising, revamping almost, as per suggested by my “bestie”, Cookies and Cakes. I love Cookies and Cakes!!! We're soulmates but sadly our love is as platonic as it can get...

But then again, why would i???

This was me writing (about 2 to 4 years ago), and now it is still me. I like to see how things have changed and how I have matured (or maybe not)…

My last entry was, Wednesday, March 05, 2008. 2008!!!!

And it is now 23^rd April 2010.

*sheds tears* I remember writing down that life’s been a rollercoaster ride previously in my entries… How wrong was I then??? But poor me…I didn’t know better. At this instance I recall an aunt of mine who had an amateur ability in palmistry. I was probably 16 approaching 17 (*Sound of Music scores start playing in the head* dum de dum de dum, Sound of Music, euphoric, dum de dum de dum), and being of that age (I do remember being a teenager with an half an innocent mind and an even more childlike demeanour, and yes, I was told that I need to grow up all the time, not literally though) I was still like a little puppy running around being cheerful, excited etc. What bullshit!!! Anyway, we, my cousins and I, took turns at the exciting prospect of having our future deciphered and even managed to laugh about it.

Cousin #1- Hahahahahaha, you gonna have two wives!!!

Cousin#2- *Slaps his forehead* Aiyo Kadavule!!! (meaning “Oh God” in the Tamil language)

Me- You like Mat Romeo la (Romeo epitomised being a romantic man surrounded by beautiful women, in a very “Malaysian”ised way, when in fact he embodied monogamy, oh Shakespeare, how I oblivious was I!!!)

I remember her words, although details were vague, but this was what came to mind…

“You will become someone successful, but you will have to go through a lot in life. You see your hands, they are not very smooth, they are bumpy and this is what it means. But don’t worry; you will lead a good life.”

Little did I know what she said was soon to materialise...

At this point I erased what I initially wrote for my blog and told myself I do not have to revisit the ghosts of my past to get a closure on them… I am writing, right here and right now, and the present moment seems too precious to be wasted on the past which should be nothing but a means to realise that our past shape us, but it is our future that we can own… I tell myself this very moment to never look back except to learn from it… and if what lies ahead is anything like what has happened then I can barely wait for it to unfold….

I am taking myself more seriously as a biotechnologist these days.....

I've come to realise now that as much as i have yet to fully register it in my brains and accept the fact, i am almost a full fledged BSc. graduate... With a major in biotechnology... Fashion has pretty much slipped away and its but traces of it that is lingering around... Makeup....well dat has been well and alive because of all the training i get doin stage makeup for all de gals in my dance group... Fashion will come around i am sure but just not for now... Its been cryopreserved (haha.... de inner biotechnologist speaking), and will be thawed soon for use...
Doin my project has made me realise that i can still be awed by lab work and getting results, and still marvel at how powerful scientists are and science is... I am one of them (scientists) damn it!!!
It has somehow dawned upon me that if i wanted to have studied fashion i should've stood up for it way bak in Form 6 but, alas, i was way too much of a crowd pleaser that i had 2 go and do the thing that pleased not only my parents but also my relatives alike... So now, i should be concentrating on what i am doing and i should do it well... Fussing over what i've missed as i've found out the hard way was never a solution to anything... To be frank it made things worse... But things have taken a turn for the better and i am now focused on my current predicament to make de best out of it...
Actually the very reason i've been so accepting and motivated is because i've had a consolation for having missed fashion in the first place... ODISSI... It gave me a sense of belonging, finally, because i felt that being just a BSc. graduate seem so accomplishable... Seemed very meagre, very achievable. N i knew very well i wasn't going 2 be the best at it. On top of this i missed the very thing i could've been great in, fashion... Odissi jus fit de jigsaw puzzle and it came at the time i was most desperate for goal to work for which i, very foremostly, love....

So here goes, first odissi, then a professional cert in makeup, and then, slowly a fashion stylist perhaps....and a biotechnologist all the way...
Wow, now that sounds more like a worthwhile goal and once achieved an even more worthwhile accomplishment....

dance dance dance

I am gonna be an odissi dancer!!!! Hurray!!!!!!
Well, lets come from the beginning. SM, where it all started. I never knew i'd be deeply moved by this art form of the odissi.... Its absolutely gorgeous!!! I am going odissi crazy that i come back everyday after classes to 9 of my most loved, priceless odissi videos i downloaded from google videos n youtube on my laptop. I must say, i never expected my chilhood dreams of becoming a classical dancer to materialise and now it slowly is....
Oh yea, SM is a club of performing arts in University Malaya founded by RV, a masters student of performing arts in University Malaya majoring in dance, who himself is a dancer trained in the Guru Deba Prasad style of odissi. Ever since it started, with my badge of students being the pioneers, we focused on finishing our mangalacharan, the Gangatharanga, dedicated to Lord Shiva, the ultimate dancer himself. There on, i have come to love odissi in its downright essence... Everything from the mudras to the banghi and the chowka, from the fluidity to the purposeful distortions, from the acessories to the makeup and the white pottu that is carefully drawn on our faces... ITS EUPHORIC!!!!!!!
During a performance in Shah Alam for a contemporary dance piece. Each dancer took the role of a classical Indian dance which included the seven classical dances of India, i.e. baratanatyam, odissi, kuchipudi, mohini aattam, kathak, kathakali, and manipuri. I was, obviously, the odissi dancer. Eventhough the dance was a contemporary piece we made it a point to do our mudras correctly and our footwork perfectly.

its been long, n i have loads 2 write

OK, Godbro, no more in my life (although memories are cherished n dark moments, vividly carved into memory), met loads and loads of people (including a lot of local Indian celebrities from the silver screen), danced so much till, my record performance, was a piece choreographed the day before the event, went for a by-invitation-only fashion show which came with complementary cocktail (finally!!!), bought some brand names (for my wardrobe and also my grooming, i.e. SODA, SEED, Padini, Three Point Six, Echo Park, Ciano, The Body Shop, Snails, Lakme, Maybelline, Elianto etc. maybe not big a deal to some, but a huge deal for me), started doing my brows and started using proper makeup (if and when i go out for an important event or chilling out with my best friends in a lounge or a bar) and earned Jaan as a best friend and Sunbear as my partner...

Well, I've been great, life so far from my previous posts was another roller-coaster ride, is still a bunch of roses, and has been ever so fabulous. But there are a few things I've learnt down the road, among which

Not all people who claim to be sexually 'bent' are truly so, and hence, expecting my acquaintances and possible suitors to exercise monogamy even before anything starts to flourish is absolutely impossible and so i have learnt to not expect and keep every acquaintance on a get-to-know basis. One reason, is that, desperately sex-deprived men turn to men for mere pleasure, and since sex with men is most often more readily available, voila!!! Another reason is the fact that gay relationships are not-well not in Malaysia at least- marriage-bound and so all the more reason men secretively get into same sex bonding for more then just contact and friendship. Its tough being gay and surviving my country men but i have come across those who have been accepting and nothing beats having people to see you as someone more to offer than just being a laughing stock. There's more to a lot of PLU (people like us) than just being sexually bent (be it sexual orientation or sexual identity). I happen to see artists, accountants, doctors, i.e. maestros, geniuses and lifesavers in them than just the label 'gay men'...

I have to stand for what i want to do and be!!! And i am regretting the fact that i failed to do so long long time ago... I want to study fashion, and that seems only remotely possible. Winning over my parents to allow me to diverge (which in my books would be to get on the right track) seems to be the most daunting of all hurdles to overcome... I am praying for a miracle but i do have hope that even the wildest of my dreams (which isn't so much of a miracle) would come true...

Just take people easy. I have seen so many impossibly insatiable people that I've learnt to take people easy. The more seriously you take people to be, the more complicated things get when you want to relate to them. In a way it helps me be less judgemental and more accepting even to the worse of twisted minds and even the simplest of saint-like-human beings. But where best friends are concerned i dispose of the need to adapt for obvious reasons that needs no mentioning.

well, a huge gap, but was worth it (the post, not the gap)

still wondering

I know i have been through loads of hell 2 say this but my life seems so perfect... It is becoz it's strangely imperfect that makes it sop perfect....Besides the fact dat i'm yet 2 launch a career in fashion n i haven't found my significant half, evrything else is jus perfect for me... My studies r goin fab, mostly coz my subjects interesting... My life is so jam-packed wit stuff to do, i mean i'm in AISEC, i've agreed 2 participate in a dance competition on a local cable TV ( don't be deceived, in Malaysia, those who appear on the local cable TV, Astro, acquire as much fame as any1 on national TV would), my studies have heightened in2 more intellectual levels, i'm in a major project organised anually by my varsity's Tamil Language Society, n i'm in my residential college 'boria' team (boria is a dance originating from the state of Penang, in Malaysia).

Wat else cud i possibly ask for....

Life is good...
Life is tough...
Life's a bed os roses...
Soft petals, enchanting perfume, thorns and all...