Late last year, I was bold enough to go brown-dyed. And I couldn’t care less what other people say. One thing’s for sure; Jobs was there to preserve that boldness.. through camera and a perfect afternoon. (But I’m certainly back to black already!)
These photos are featured in her latest photo album: Portfolio 101 (On her FB account) . Thanks Jobs!
This year’s summer is beyooond expectations! It wouldn’t be complete without taking a dive in the usual resort just around the corner. And because I feel like I’ve been swimming twice a week nowadays, I suddenly had the clamor to end this tiring break – but yet again, I realize that times like these wouldn’t be as forgiving when I take up medicine (Ahemm). So, channeling the usual “Saff Spirit”, I ended up smiling and having fun in every little way! Hooray for today! (Thanks Mcdo for the slogan!) I begin to remaster the art of optimism and being random.. the unoccasional definition of being me. Bless the heavens.
And thank you for all the wishes, goodlucks, gifts, support, praises, and *insert things like that* when I graduated. Yihii. I finally had my diploma for Bachelor of Science in Zoology. Oh thank God. Ho hey Medicine! Im about to knock in your iron doors.
Plus, it has been a struggle for me to get back on track these past months; nevertheless, I enjoyed it. I picked up the crumbs and maybe, just maybe, I might as well use it when I lost my way “again”. (Just read between the lines)
One more thing, Banggolo’s Street food-stalls are amayziiing AGAIN. Haha. I missd them. (Which I accused when I was confined last year because of a.. uh.. discomfort.) But that is so 2012, so will you please welcome me again? The regular Balut and Penoy, the a-la chowking halo-halo, the Tempuras and Squid rolls are sure-to-miss street foods I would be glad to swim with. Haa. *That would mean that I’ll have to force someone again to accompany me. Muahaha. (And next time, I’ll be bringing a camera as well.)
And yey, reconnections! THE feeling. Alhamdulillah for kind-hearted people.
As for this blog, I miss you sunshiny! I’ll be posting photos and all-that later alright?
Hi hello WordPress!
So yeah, this is the 3-year evolution of a
ladykiller madman. From 2011 to 2013. Haha. Feel free to admire criticize!
*Just had the decency to brag thyself. Lols.
2011: Yeah, I look like a zombie straight out of a computer game ready to get some “braiiiins”. Im so damn
2012: The inner
2013: Still dry, still
asdfghjkl whatever, BUT can be who he wanted to be at the end of the day.
Before I hit the sack, I wish to tell you that I’m freaking happy today! (As if that’s unusual for me) I downloaded a bunch of songs to get the party starting. I’m extremely in good mood and you should know that I officially started writing in an actual journal (Is it lame? Don’t know, but I’ m loving the thought and the long process of thinking and recollecting what happened that day that can incredibly change your life perspectives, somehow it’s comforting in my part). LOL. I also got a brand new favorite song from Mr. Mars, the Bruno one; a song called Old & Crazy, featuring Esperanza Spalding. I admit I still love jazz (as it sounded like one, correct me if I’m wrong though) and the kind of music Bruno Mars is up to. Plus… my defense for thesis is scheduled this Friday. Oh God, please be with me.
And highlight, I learned a lesson today just succeeded in proving a theory; waiting is the best method to test your patience! Haha. It is so true. No questions asked.
Happy reading everyone!
Will you still call me baby when I’m old and crazy? Will you still hold my hand when my clothes are out of style? My teeth all ran away and I don’t have the same smile. Will you still wanna dance even if my hips are weak? My ears don’t hear so well and I can’t find the beat. Will you still call me baby when I’m old and crazy?
– Old & Crazy, Bruno Mars feat. Esperanze Spalding
Mending a broken heart isn’t as easy as putting a bandage on a swollen wound. It takes up so much courage and recognition of that blistering soreness between your ribcages. You unconsciously push away everyone around you and realize that you wanted this people back in your life again. Pushing and pulling, ache and hurt, scar and healing. So many complicated processes to get back to your feet again, to walk.. to run.. to dance. Well, we can’t argue on that anyway – “growing up” taught us that everything would be possible, may it be in the slowest progression and longest route. Just like one begin to walk when he was first brought out into this world. Human instinct tells us to stand up and conquer the world. So in the end, giving up is not a goddamn option. Strength, motivation, self-willingness, acceptance – all these vocabularies weren’t coined for nothing right?
I begin to love and appreciate the rain again; as watching the rain is one of my favorite past times way back when I was a little boy. Somehow, it brought back the memories of who I was – that moment when I was real and true and happy. That very tiny moment of just being yourself and care less of what the world is saying about you, when contentment, innocence, and cheerfulness are all tied up in a knot. I was that boy who used to dance in the rain and sing to it as it splatters to the raw browns of the earth. I was that boy who imagined that the world was his big stage where he can be what he wanted to be. I was once that boy who imagined, and dreamed, and fantasized of all the good things coming his way. Yes, as early as now, many of those goals he had already grasped. All he wished for came to life, granted. But there’s this small bit still missing – a big incomplete jigsaw puzzle. You can’t picture the whole without that final piece. I can’t put my finger on it, but I just know, there is a missing piece. There must be. Waiting to be found.. or relived.
The strong string against the force of the wind, the amusement you are sharing with your friends.. oh, how I yearn for that time. Just a short minute where there were no stack of books to wait for you every day of your demanding college life, or a love pop that blew right in front of your face on Valentine’s day, or a black cat getting in your way when you are feeling lucky on a Monday. Everything feels so random, and troubling.
But in the middle of that mental shrieking and identifying your true social contracts, there they were again, beautifully emanating with jealousy auras and throwing you off with different memories of how fun it was to run in the meadows or the cornfields or at someone else’s backyard and steal a beautifully ripe fruit.
And then you think of that tiny little speck of memory on how to make a kite with your bossy big brother and talkative sister who fights all the time, a moment when you were all little kids. A time to laugh when you are joyously happy and cry only when you see your flesh spout a round bubble of blood. That’s the only time you cry, but there were a thousand more ways to laugh.. But when you grow older, everything plays on reverse; you laugh once or twice, and then get hurt all the time. Ironic.
Then in a blink of an eye, the cord that held the kite high above gave way, weak against the strong coils of the wind. It glides and spirals down, the long tail of the kite dwindles and twists and gone.. The happiness sucked out again.
Life is like a kite, you are living because you are motivated to live on for someone or for a goal. Without that thin piece of cord, and someone that holds it on the other side, then you are no match for that airstream. No match for a life that is full of sadness, and misery, and gloomy holes that is much more willing to suck the happiness out of you.