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all the world is waiting for the sun
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| the blues |
[12 Jun 2009|04:04am] |
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mood |
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 frustrated |
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music |
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Passion Pit |
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I guess heartache comes with the territory.
I'm home.
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| back again |
[27 May 2009|01:47pm] |
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mood |
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 tired |
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music |
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Hot Chip |
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Wow.. it's been so long. I see my Livejournal still uses the same old template used when I set up my account about... 5 years ago now? (has it been that long?). I also miss putting in what I'm "currently listening to" ahaha yes nerdburger yay look what I'm listening to!! :) Things have changed in immense proportions since I last wrote in here, which was on... the 6th of July 2008. Funny how a year can change so much.
Since then, I've moved to Europe (to Ireland), jumped onto the whole university bandwagon but surprisingly haven't yet drank myself to the ground (although my liver is dying a slow but certain death in Ireland), my mum was diagnosed with metastatic cancer, I've moved from house to house to house, I've been in a serious relationship that's lasted for for 1.5 years now which is amazing as I never imagined I had the ability to explore such depths with one person over an extended period of time... it's just been (cliche!) such a growing up experience all these events.
And now I am here in my little attic room, exams over, home beckons for 3 months...
Champions League final in a few hours... going over to this Australian bar called the Woolshed.. and that place is going to be packed to the brim, I can't for the life of me stand those Spanish people fucking crowding around everywhere and just screaming at each other (aka talking to each other, but they scream because it comes to them naturally) and I know its a huge generalisation about Spanish people, but it's incredibly annoying the ones who do that. Must go early to avoid the rush hour crowd coming in from work. United for the win baby!!
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| oh woe is the pillow that calls |
[05 Jul 2008|06:49am] |
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mood |
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tired |
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You'd think that more than halfway through the semester and I'd learn to go to bed early.
Apparently not.
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| hehe weekends silly bambi |
[27 Jun 2008|02:07am] |
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mood |
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tired |
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music |
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Indie.Arie - Heart Of The Matter |
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Tired, so damn tired, and for no good reason. Damn lousy. The end of the week is neigh again, time seems to be going by fairly quickly now. The wheels are in motion, yes yes... still holding my breath, still keeping my insides intact, still holding back all this unconsummated feelings... all dancing on tiptoes, waiting to erupt in a morbid sort of ecstasy (I don't know... can ecstasy be morbid?). My heart is not coarse enough for all of this. It is bursting at its fucking seams, it is.
I met one of my old Sunday School friends last weekend, which was the most random thing ever, considering we were both fairly out there by the time the party ended. Quite embarrassing how I screamed her name like a BSB groupie, but oh well.
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| one sits lonely under this naked exterior |
[14 Jun 2008|02:11pm] |
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mood |
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 relaxed |
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music |
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Suzanne Vega |
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I need to resuscitate this place.
Life's a little bit like the state of my sound system right now.
Outside; a glimmering black with pools of silver in the middle. Seems nice, presentable, blares music, does what every sound system is supposed to do. But underneath that, underneath this table on which my fingers incessantly tap is the bass line that traces the outsides of all those songs, that gives it character, and that most importantly makes it whole. My heart purportedly seeks its completion within the premises on which it lies. Belief, in all its promising glory. We all go into a situation, tongue bitten, perhaps rather bashfully thinking with our heart's mind, seeing when the heart has no sight, and then sort of falling in between the loopholes. But we still pull ourselves up and live within those premises because we know it is essentially better.
So yes, the bass line. The undertones that emphasize the song and reverberate off the four walls of my room. For a long time it felt like that was missing, a reason, the distinct shape of a song. Or maybe it was there all the time; seemingly lost in the fallacies that clouded my ears. I cannot be too sure. All I know is that the heart on which I thrive on lost its rhythm for awhile. But now my bass box sits alone underneath the table, bass lines coming out in sad, swallowed thumps. In complete contrast, the bass line in my life is becoming audible again, like the roar of a plane's engine emerging from the clouds. It is reassuring; I cannot explain how it happened but it has, and for that, I am infinitely glad.
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