Wednesday, December 26, 2007
christmas dinner cooked by yours truly
It has been a fabulous Christmas. Spent the whole afternoon till 8 pm preparing and cooking Christmas dinner for my family. It turned out to be quite a splendid feast--my family loved it! Couldn't have cooked all this without the help of my maid though--she's actually a better cook than me. Faster and tidier. Haha. Anyways, this is my scrumptious Christmas dinner! Cream of Mushroom was my appetizer.
Family enjoyed it, though I thought that the flavor wasn't intense enough. Next was my Stuffed Baked Potato with Ranch Dressing.
Mm...baked potatoes have to be my absolute favorite dish. This one did not disappoint anyone, except for the jackets being slightly too salty.
Cooked two types of roast chicken too--Roast Chicken with Tarragon and Honey Roast Chicken. The honey roast chicken was gobbled down before I could snap a picture. So, here's a picture of a half-eaten tarragon chicken.
Ooh...not to forget my Caesar salad! Well, it's not really a Caesar salad anymore, what with me adding red and yellow peppers, slices of boiled egg, tomatoes and ham.
My favorite dish of the entire course, however, has got to be my Baked Apples with Raisin and Walnut Stuffing and Caramel Sauce. That was just absolutely divine...overall, a fantastic meal. Can't wait to get more herbs and cook more!
Written at 12:35 AM
2 comments
Saturday, December 22, 2007
forever yours
This song has always struck a resounding chord in my heart...I remember the melancholic notes that sang forth to my lonely spirit a long time ago...how painful the loneliness had felt...sharp as a surgical knife slicing through flesh...yet permanently blunt like a bruise that would never fade...No, this post is not about the emergence of loneliness in my life again. On the contrary, I have found the one love that I would dearly hold close to my beating heart for the rest of my life. Why post such a sharply lonely, depressive song then? Perhaps, it is because tears can never be truly shared...the heaviness of the heart that bears a liquid teardrop is not a loaf of bread that can be shared...it is solitary, like darkness.
Nightwish - Forever Yours
Fare thee well, little broken heart
Downcast eyes, lifetime loneliness
Whatever walks in my heart will walk alone
Constant longing for the perfect soul
Unwashed scenery forever gone
No love left in me
No eyes to see the heaven beside me
My time is yet to come
So I'll be forever yours
Written at 4:16 AM
1 comments
Monday, December 10, 2007
a place beyond love
A place beyond you...a place beyond me. A place beyond love. I long to find you there...in a place unbounded by the rules of space and time. Free from the rules of tedious social mores. Unrestrained by the straitjacket of propriety and self-consciousness. No emotion, no thoughts, no opinion. What bridge can we build together across this infinity? No, not infinity. We are not two lost souls wandering in a Purgatory-like greyness waiting for the shrill sounds of pardon like deafening church bells. There is only us both...unbounded mortals. Free to partake the purity of the other's self - unblemished as pearl, true as faith. The self that has always remained veiled to the world, allowing only shady glimpses through opaque silk. The self that is now utterly revealed in breathtaking beauty and nakedness - to be cherished...or broken. No restraints. No defenses. No regrets. Life or death placed so lightly in the hands of the other...like an alcoholic tossing a gin bottle behind without the slightest hesitation. Will we break each other like porcelain roses? Shatter and crush into bloody pulps of dust.Love/ hate.
Break/ build.
Desire/ apathy.
Love me. Hate me. Break me.
In this place, we swirl and dance, bond and merge like shadows melting into each other under the midsummer sun. Fulfill our primal desires, instincts without the restraint of second thoughts or courtesies.
Love.
Truth.
Liberty.
Desire.
Written at 2:29 AM
1 comments
Sunday, December 09, 2007
phuket!
I'm off to Phuket on Monday for four days! :DSo, don't bother calling me because I won't be bringing my cell phone.
Sun, shopping, and more shopping!
Written at 1:20 AM
0 comments
Friday, December 07, 2007
blanket
She walks, runs, flies. The world is hers, like fluid in a magical bottle shaped at whim with her long fingers. Her fingers weave the sky with colorful threads of fog and mist, carve the earth with sharp shears of ancient stars, build a small figure with clay and sand. Her mind wraps her creation gently, lovingly in a warm blanket of logic and reason. As she kisses her child good night, she pulls the blanket tighter around her, caresses her once, then leaves in blue tendrils of smoke and ice.Nightmares come riding on terrifying monsters that cannot be seen, unweakened by the withering glance of a human eye. They gather their strength from their invisibility--that way, they become Fear itself. They crouch around the child...tasting her with their tongues cold and sharp as broken marble, devouring her with flaming eyes of autumn, touching her with barbed fingers of rusted steel. The child shuts her eyes tight, willing them to go away, though she can feel them encroaching upon her, glistening red in rapturous lust. Hunger. Desire.
She pulls the blanket around her tighter--the blanket decorated with equations, woven with adamantine threads of logic and reason. 'Go away, go away, go away!' she mutters over and over again, like a worn out prayer. She can see them, surprisingly...though they are unseen to others. The monsters sneer in return, laugh at the stupidity of the child who clings on to her blanket with the faith of a martyr. In one slick move, they pull the blanket away from her and chew it till it becomes nothing more than a filthy torn ragcloth. Nothing covers the child...she feels naked, exposed, violated like a slave woman bartered for two loaves of bread. She cannot even see the monsters anymore--they have become invisible. Shape-shifters. Cloaked in emptiness, dressed in death.
They smile at her--a truly evil smile. And, she becomes blind. Helpless. She flings out her arms but feels only emptiness, cold and taunting. She tries to get up, slips and falls. The ground hits her hard like metal but try as she can to feel it, her hands grasp nothing. Nothingness in a shell of steel. There is absolutely nothing that she can do alone. NOTHING! She is utterly defenseless, helpless in a world filled with monsters, or emptiness. It does not matter. She cannot do anything. She cries and screams, like it will return her some semblance of autonomy, as if autonomy were a dog that ran away temporarily to play fetch.
The monsters laugh and flick her a knife. Somehow, it ends up in her hands. "There is one thing you CAN do," they whisper...soft soft whispers in her ear.
Her tears fall upon the blade, rubbing it with the shine of grief and pain. She presses it on her skin, feeling its soothing coldness. She slits her wrist.
"Well done, my child."
Written at 1:16 AM
2 comments
Thursday, December 06, 2007
finally done in college!
I have just finished my final paper of my entire course in college. Finally...I'm done. I have been slacking so much this semester--those who know me well have said, "Su! How could you do that?!" when I related certain atypical actions of mine. For example, not checking the course outline and almost losing 10 % of my grade, which I didn't in the end. Haha.A whole new life awaits me now. No more studying...not at least for a year. I'm bored with studying now. Four years of almost non-stop work certainly takes its toll on you. Reflecting on my college studies, only a few courses have had significant impact on me--namely Critical Thinking, Western Philosophy, Abnormal Psychology and Ethics in the Helping Profession. Few people have also been major influences--shaping my mind with gentle wisdom like an artist patiently sketching intricate stars of silver and ice. What have I learned through all my years in college? In a nutshell: how to question, think, and analyze (in that order of importance).
To those teachers of mine, thank you.
Written at 1:58 AM
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Sunday, December 02, 2007
slumber
Restless she wanders...her feet fall furtively on the gravelly road, cast in shadows from the small streetlamp, bent metal in diffidence and rust. Rows upon rows of houses lie still like corpses. There are people inside, but they are asleep. Dead. Asleep. It doesn't matter. She is alone all the same. Loneliness...solitude. She muses on the play of words, runs them through her fingers like flowing streams of rose and silk. The first word reeks of stale souls and slimy fish, abhorrent to the core. The second is a birth of star and song, quietly magnificent and redolent with the sweet scent of tranquility.Does she long for solitude? She wonders...but knows not the answer. What does she desire? Her footsteps grow more hurried. She has always known the answer. Now, she does not. It makes her angry...her rage grows black as the simmering darkness around her. Cloudy with heat and spirals of cigarette smoke. Scream! Scream if it makes you feel better! The voices challenge her. She screams, not caring if she wakes the dead with her cries. She hears nothing...her throat grows hoarse, but the air remains mockingly still. The dead lie around her...they hear nothing. There IS nothing. Is she a fragment of their broken dreams? Made mute by their confused gunk of whims and fancies?
Slash.
Cut.
Heal.
Peace.
She plucks a blade from the air, glinting in the mustard yellow light. A conclusion to a short summary of existential angst. It sounds like a badly-written term paper handed in late in the afternoon, just minutes before the deadline. She smiles to herself, without humor. Nothing matters anymore. Everything is meaningless. For a moment, she wonders what that means. If everything was truly meaningless, that statement itself would be meaningless. Thus, meaning would have to exist. An amusing paradox...but meaningless all the same. It does not blunt the blade, neither does it sharpen it. The blade hovers in the air like a strip of silver star. She hates it. She hates herself. She hates the fortress of knowledge she has built around her. Unassailable. Safe as heaven.
To come into being, one must first learn not-to-be. The cold blade presses flat upon her skin, slowly opening the door to non-being. She hesitates at the doorway. It is too easy, surely, to leave a bag of skin and bones. It is far harder to cut the umbilical cord of self-will. She neither wills for life or death. There didn't seem to be anything in between. Slumber, perhaps. Rest. A long sweet rest...
The blade beckons again, singing a child's lullaby. She draws it lightly across the skin, the sharp edge caressing warm flesh. Pressing it deeper, she feels the thick trickle of blood. In the dim light, it is hard to make out the color. It just looks dark. She sinks to the ground, her skirts pool around her in gossamer and silk, stained. Everyone around her is asleep. Dead. Asleep. She thinks drowsily. It makes no difference. She will join them in their slumber and make dreams in rings of daisies.
