Sunday, November 29, 2009


I laughed so hard until I nearly lost my voice.

And also, I laughed so hard until my asthma kicked in.

I also laughed very hard because of poker.

And to top it all, today marks my last day in Starbucks.


There goes my green and black apron journey. I wanted to blog about it, but I lost the mood somewhere. So what's the point? Where is that passion?

Monday, November 23, 2009

Passion Questioned.

I was wondering these few days, what my passion is all about?

I was afraid that I put my work in first place when it comes to passion.

About coffee, and wanted to go for tea.

But I was wrong.

I always thought that I was the Starbucks fanatic thing. Being able to create the third place for customers I've served. Nothing could take passion away from learning more about coffee.

But, going to leave the company - it's not going to feel that bad.

Today, they had the Penang Jazz Festival presentation at Starbucks New World Park during my shift, and it was awesome.

Of course, it had to be awesome. Besides Ocean of Fire playing, the veterans were either playing, or just watching good Jazz music.

And that's when it swept me off my feet.

Listening to them play, did not demotivate me in what I wanted to do most. That was to rip the guitar off someone else's shoulders and start playing along.

I enjoyed the various sort of music being performed.

And that's where my passion had always lied in.

Even if I were to study music.

So. What's next?

Simple; more guitar. :)

Monday, November 16, 2009

I Was Happy!

Well, the keyword is was .. So what happened?

I slept at 1am-ish.

But woke up at 4am.

And I've been awake ever since.


Sunday, November 15, 2009

My Bitten Lips.

Ignore the title.

I have no idea what to post.

I woke up today, like the undead.

Had my bath, had lunch, came home, took a nap, had my bath, went to work, had supper with friends, and came home.

In between were thoughts of you smiling.

In between were thoughts of you crying.

In between were thoughts of you being in pain.

In between, I had crippled my heart and yours.

But when you're down, I'll still have to carry you on my back.

Even if you don't want it, but it satisfies my needs.

You're missed.

Very dearly.

I'm sorry.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

And Another Note.

I just saw pictures of myself taken with my friends of different groups.

I had this urge to grab the picture, and tear every one of myself out from the picture.

And when I put it back.

They'd still smile.

They'd still smile.

I've come home to nobody.

I Came Home Today.

Let me blog.

My blog.

My life.

My thoughts.

*thinks back..*

I was outside of my place, at the garden opposite where I park the bike. Sitting on the stone table and chair, where I once played in the playground when I was young. Before it was broken, now overrun by a bunch of potted plants. And some of them overgrew until it grew roots on the ground.

As I stood up, I felt empty.

Only pain, but emptiness.

As I walked towards the step, past the bike that gave me freedom for the past weeks; allowing me to do the things that I was never able to do when I was younger. When the family was home. When my brother was home. When my mum would shout at the both of us.

Where I would shut up and let her say what she wants.

But because I stood up, and walked on, with chains and bangles on my ankles, I felt gravity pulling me down to the earth.

I fight for my right.

But why does fighting for my right feels wrong?

The more I walk, the more pain being inflicted.

I began to choke. Not forgiving myself for who I've become. My tear glands gave way. But being me, what are tears?

I opened the door, I came home to..

... Nobody.

This used to be the best feeling that I could ever feel. So much peace. Nobody fighting against each other. I don't see my brother shouting towards my mum. Or my mum shouting towards my dad. Or myself shouting towards my mum and back at me.

I just came home to nobody.

I closed the door, and the ultimate feeling closed down upon me.

Unknown sadness.

Something I never experienced before. The sort of thing that you would suggest me to go to a psycologist.

It gets lonely sometimes. And today, I didn't get to say goodbye. My mum left. And I'm not going to see her for quite a bit.

I am sad that I can't sleep well everyday, resulting to me staying up till 7am or 10am in the morning, then getting sleep after that.

My responsibilities grew bigger and bigger. My smiles, laughs and jokes at work are just my acting tools to allow me to shadow myself from what I really feel.

When I walked into the room. I saw the messiest place in the world. This is my room. But it was not the place on how I grew up.

So, I sat down on my bed. Grabbed my guitar, and played the tunes that didn't sound like music although they're theorically right.

I came home to nobody.

I played the guitar, without a soul.

I wanted to see myself, but I never bothered to look at the mirror. I just walked past it. I didn't even bother to see myself.

I don't love myself.

I don't know love.

I don't know who I'm coming home to.

I do not acknowledge my father's criticisms, advises or praise. I used to be proud, but take note of the key word - used to be.



I have no idea what my goals are. Who am I going to be when I'm 30. What am I going to be doing when I'm 30. Where I'll be..

.. Have I ever thought about it? Yeah. But I put the thoughts aside because I don't even bother.

It took me very quickly to realise two things.

1) I've completely failed at being myself.
2) I've screwed up someone else's life, but not my own.

My passion and curiousity for things begun to die. My coffee knowledge, my guitar theories, quick mathematical calculations, and my passion towards my mother tongue.

Very dishonourable. And everybody still hangs onto who I am.


Some people say that it's not worth it, and I don't deserve this. But if I've screwed up someone else's life really good, I've disgraced my own character. Yet, I'm better off as a loner.

If I were to be in a battlefield, and when the general gives the order to commence on the war, I'd be the first one who takes the opposing country's first blood before the rest.

And before I fall, and be forgotten.

I'm sorry.

Not because of what I've done.

But for who I've been. And who I am.

I can understand most of you can't forgive me.

It's okay.

I don't mind.

Death is just another phase of life.

So to who reads this sooner or later, make full use of what you have left in your life.

You may be a loser, an emo person, a happy person, or successful person.

Eventually, you will find your happiness.

An eternal one.

I lost mine.

And there's nothing I can do.

"To do music, you have to really sacrifice everything you've got."

And I just might.

Forgive me.

December approaches.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Have a white one.

Mine will be like any other ordinary day. Celebrations can always be postponed.

Even birthdays.



Thank you to those who made my life worth living.

"Soon, I'll be free as a bird. And this bird, you cannot change."

But hey. You all would be happy soon, right?

Soon, there'll be one person less to worry about. Doesn't that sound good?

Monday, November 9, 2009


It's pretty amazing how a simple song sounds so nice only because of the techniques being used. And the right notes being used at the same time.

I nearly sprained my wrist doing the last solo bit.


Wednesday, November 4, 2009

On Your Grave, I Shall Mourn.

The times you spoke,
The times you saw.
Do you see what I am?
Or assumption's at hand.
The anger released,
The times you knew.
Will you be sorry?
Or the words won't mean a thing?

On your grave, I shall mourn.
Only if I feel like it.
A demotivated child,
Who does not see the point.

An engravement done by him,
Would be the love set for eternity.
An engravement done by him,
Would be tempted to break the tombstone.
The afterlife will a painful one,
The afterlife will be torturous.
But since the day he was born,
He was in hell already.

On your grave, I shall mourn.
Only if I feel like it.
A demotivated child,
Who does not see the point.

On Dreams, On Clouds.


You're there.

I'm here.

It may be distant, but when I hear your voice over the phone.

I cry.

I still care.

And I can't stop myself even if I wanted to.

Sleep well.

I miss you dearly.