A note to my future self

As far as the Universe is concerned, my loony lunar love, your heart is just a tiny atom.

Kings of Leon - Pyro

Messages to a ghost

Something I wrote/drew in an empty tutorial room in between classes. Without Word's spell-checker I am nothing.

Cheesy. Queasy.

Me: Hey, would you mind if we teamed up for the Circuit Theory assignment? I don't really know anyone in this class...

Class mate: A pretty girl is asking me to partner up with her for an assignment; why would I say no?




....quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Put aside the fact that my looks are nowhere near perfection, (I'm probably somewhere along the lines of mediocre, that is to say I can scare children if I pull a face but my bum still brings some of the boys to the yard) what he said still made me feel 10kg smaller and 6 feet tall.

Nice guys will always come first in my books.

Midnight Happy Thoughts

It's funny how my writing has this cynical and gloomy undertone to it when in actual fact, I'm this dork who laughs with her head tilted back and her mouth wide open. You would shit crayons if you knew how giggly I am outside of this computer screen. Writing about the strange and remarkable spectrum of emotions just comes naturally to me. When I turn off my computer and return to the real world, I'm actually really silly.

See? Only silly people finish their sentences with a triad of l-l-y's.

This blog isn't a stab at my subconscious either. I'm getting a little too old for Freudian-esque analyses of my thoughts and actions. I just like being a different persona online. I'd like to think that the internet is this cosy little place where everyone gets to play pretend with a bunch of other grown-up kids. Maybe that's the appeal. It is for me, anyway.

I'm not emotionally distraught on the inside. A little bit, perhaps. Nothing too major. Everyone needs to stop associating blogs/micro-blogs with people's personalities. It's the internet. The birthplace of LOL-CATS and rick-rolls. I really can't stress this enough.

Merriment

It appears that I've gotten myself into a delicate situation. After playfully suggesting that I'm up for any kind of hooplah, I've successfully become the subject of an experimental date. The way I see it, I have two options:

a) I can back out now and just nip this brutal cycle in the bud.

OR

b) I (wo)man up, show up and see if I can manage to keep my head screwed on tight for an hour or two.

I'm this close to whipping out a coin to test the odds, but something tells me that I should save it for tomorrow morning. Sundays are meant for time-outs and introspection.

Note to self: Never joke around with Myra again. When she says she'll deliver, she most absolutely will deliver.

Snow Globe

I need to sleep. For now I lie awake in a makeshift reality that’s made up of reincarnated memories of a life once led by a girl, who tried -but failed- to hold rays of sunlight in between her fingers. 

Through her eyes I see words crisscrossing in the air as they flee the lips of strangers, lovers, comrades, allies; some of them bind to my skin like blood, others course through the nicks of time like water. Every day I pick up a transmission of signals from her past forming meticulous shapes of the earth and the sea. In this body, I move in directions predetermined by her specter. In her body, I feel her phantom spine coiling around my heart. 

I need to sleep to relieve her grip. My eyes close but just as I’m about to turn the knob and swallow the key and roll up my socks and jump over the gate my mind runs wild

so night
after night
after night
I dance with her ghost in dimly lit dreams.

Do you ever wonder how I would have turned out had I not been sheathed in her meat and bones?

Come Away With Me

My name is Emilia and I make covers when I want to say something to a person indirectly.

Norah Jones, you make me believe in the weird and the wonderful.

If one of us makes it big we can spill our regrets

Remember when we listened to this song the first time I sent you to the airport? I found it just days before you left and knew instantly that it would be one of the few songs that would stick with me for a really long time. Now, 2 years after that first send off, this song still has profound meaning.

I still don't want to believe that I was capable of hurting you as much as I did. We had a complicated relationship but you were my best friend, above all else. I don't miss what we had but I do miss you.

This will always be your song.

Crescent

Mustafa Akyol: Faith versus tradition in Islam

In my country, segregation of sexes is still very much alive in the Muslim society. I don't know what it's like in KL but it was practiced (lightly) in my school. I never had the nerve to question it because I believed I was not educated enough in Islamic philosophy to do any disputing -although I never understood how standing next to a boy could fuel any physical urges.

Mustafa Akyol makes a great point on how people easily confuse tradition with the core beliefs of Islam. The lines are beyond blurred here in Malaysia and nobody gets to say anything lest they end up on the front page of a newspaper declaring defiance of a fatwa.

To say that I've struggled with my faith would be putting it lightly. I maybe steering off topic a little bit here but the education system imposes a very straightforward kind of thinking which unfortunately gives no room for young Malaysian Muslims to debate or contradict our textbooks' version of Islam. I believe that religion is very personal and subjective. Ideologies should be open for interpretation and examination, not shoved into our throats with hopes that we'll continue preaching what has been blindly taught to us.

If you disagree with anything I've had to say, I respect that. I didn't write this to force my beliefs on anyone. You are your own person; you don't need a 19 year old to tell you what you should or shouldn't believe. The video is a 17 minute talk but if you've read this until the end you might be interested in what he has to say.