Let the pictures do the talking.
So, the past few days have been holidays for the Lunar New Year and such, and since I am, for once, lazy to express myself in words, I shall just post some pictures and thus I shall spare you from my ramblings. =) Good isn't it?
Saturday, 24th Jan. Havagriva Puja by Lama Zopa Rinpoche
Greatest honour to have his signature on his book. Received blessings from him too. Insanely awesome isn't the exact phase I can use to describe the joy of meeting such a great teacher. The calm he emanated to my consciousness within the few seconds of the encounter with him was enough to last for days or even longer, given that I am not in this crazy place called Singapore.
Let's skip the house visiting, shall we? *nods nods* =D
Saturday, 27th Jan, Live 'N' Loaded show at Mediacorp Channel 5 studio, to support my melancholic poet sister! No, they weren't going to give out those guitars as prizes. I thought they are going to, but they aren't. =( Before the musicians get on to the stages *2 of them* when the hosts were trying in vain to get the crowd to be lively and crazy. Obviously, it wasn't a great success. For, I have seen more intense crowds and been inside them. *Slipknot 2005!* My melancholic, Sisyphean-prone, egg crushing, once-a-poet sister dishing out her song - Suburbia on national TV with reinforcements from The LoveJacks, a cello and a trumpet. I really wish she could cover a mellow Opeth *Windowpane, please!* song someday, somepoint of her performing days. Ah wells! She is awesome enough, don't you agree? =D
Wednesday, 28th Jan, meetup with Alden, a very good friend of mine whom I haven't seen for around 4 months, due to his overseas attachment at Thailand. So great to meet him once again.
Thanks for the fantastic Opeth shirt which he acquired from Thailand *5 Sing dollars each, can you believe it?!*! I foresee it will be my favourite solo outing shirt! The back design of the Opeth shirt. Very reminiscent of their Orchid era, which I absolutely adore to no end. Dissection's Reinkaos patch and Rammstein's Volkerball badge. Awesome paraphernalia. Now, to decide where to place them for their awesome qualities.
To rapture and beyond
So, I have acquired the ChthoniC's Decade on Throne DVD as a *belated* birthday gift to myself, a tradition that I have long held since I started my auditory ravage since I was 12 or 13 years of age - to get myself a solid metal music CD or DVD.
So, I got myself comfortable on the couch with the house empty and the stereo all switched on to block off all extraneous noise that was not supposed to be from the DVD which also meant that it was relatively loud. Perfect.
I popped in the DVD and the frenzy began, every ounce of the air in the house was reverberating with the essence of a ferocious entity called ChthoniC, not sparing any morsel. Letting the entity permeate my consciousness and mind, I found myself involuntarily driven to expel that bountiful amount of energy that invaded into my shell of a body.
In a nutshell, I headbanged until I felt dizzy and as though my being was fused with the music in the air. To rapture and beyond, t'was. Too long since I felt that sensation, and it certainly felt very inspiring to experience that again. To just close one's eyes and let that energy you derive from the music to express out of your body. =)
It just happens, between the metal music affectionado and the music, the headbanging and the frenzy just occurs, without any precursor or any warning. It just clicks. Now, skeptics of metal music behavourisms, just take my description into account. So, do not judge us of our intentions as otherwise. =)
Now, the normal shit of birthday cakes, [san] the individual that this cake was dedicated to though.
I do not intend to do product placement for BreadTalk, too.
So. I will depart the era of being in my teenage years very soon. I am breathing the last ounces of air in my swansong hour of my 19th year on this wretched place called Earth, before I smoothly transit into the next phase of my much unexciting life which will start on a new dot of the linear timeline. The dot denoting the 20th year of my existence.
20 is an odd age to resume. It's like being stuck in between nowhere, in a limbo, in a purgatory of time and status. At least one get more movie choices and rights to tick at electoral boxes at 21. Yet being 20 is considered as a milestone, a new chapter of sorts, a new dot on that finite timeline we all possess.
But, really, for brevity's sake, it is just "same shit, different day."
Many optimists will expound on me that I should look on the bright side and be less cynical. I can't help it. However, I must say, the time spent between 10 years old and 19 years old were pretty amazing. I have found my rasion d'etre (s) - that is to listen to glorious metal music, to find more ways to shuffle with 52 pieces of paper, to philosophize according to my own system, to autodidact myself, amongst others. Awesome. Not being sacrastic, but it was really quite amazing to spend the later half of my 10-19 year old's time delving into an amazing hobby that is card flourishing, and reaping what I have never imagined would have derive from it. I have met many amazing people who inspired me, too, in that timespan. One prominent person would be my secondary school history teacher called Mr. Neo. He practically moulded my mode of thoughts and gave me another rasion d'etre - to be a diginified metalhead.
Alright, so what the fuck is this ranting person talking about nostalgia and shit?
Well, I am wondering if my 20s will be as exciting and fulfilling as my previous years. And that if I will encounter any more inspiring characters, knowing such individuals exist in increasing diminishing numbers along the variable of time. I also hope that my autodidactism and my philosophizing will continue well and strong in my 20s, since I have knew many case studies of individuals who dwindled their brilliance because of an oligation called work *cattle for society!* and the sake of creating a family and shallowness of workplace politics, or, for the matter, politics in general. That's a tragedy in my appendix.
I will keep my fingers crossed.
Happy 20th Spawnday to me. Time to head out and do special things and feel special!
Nightmarred and Dreamscarred.
Last night, I had the queerest, the scariest dream of my entire life. Not even my prior dream of killing someone and subsequently hiding in the ceiling could match up to this one I am about to tell you. It's so queer and scary I could still feel the after-effects of the dream even 12 over hours after waking up.
Ok, so here it goes. I can't remember what leads up to this dream, so I will go to the point straight.
I dreamt I severed my right foot on my own accord with a steel string saw. It was severed two thirds down my lower leg, and it was a clean cut, like how you would cut a sausage into 2 clean portions. There wasn't any blood strangely. So after the insane act of me severing my own foot without much thought, the severed foot stood on the floor like how those mannequin feet would in the footwear shops. Surreal image it was. The dream replica of me looked upon my dream replica of my severed right foot without the slightest hint of any emotion. So I was just staring at that foot of mine, going, "Oh. What is this? That looks like my foot!" Finally cognizant of the situation, I looked down on my leg, and saw a stump of a leg, then I looked at the severed foot again on the floor. Still not feeling any emotion. However, some irrational part of me urged me to complete my leg again. So the emotionally detached dream replica of me went to pick up my severed foot, which was relatively heavy judging from my dream sense of weight. So, I went on to rejoin the severed foot back to the stump of my right leg, pressing really hard as if they would re-attach like how papers would stick together with glue. The foot *my foot* dropped many times. Only on the 4th time (I think) did it managed to stay together with my leg again. After my makeshift dream surgery, I tried to wriggle my toes and feel something with that foot, hell, this is the part that gives me the creeps. Everything felt so foreign and surreal, even in a normally reason-deficient dream scenario.
My right foot still feel so cold, so detached even now when I am typing this.
It's really strange to dream of a bodily alienation and to feel the process of matching things back together again to make an entity that I could so easily identify as "Me", which in fact are just little parts joined together. So, who is the real "Me"?
So much for the silence for the past week ever since 2009 presented itself upon my doorstep without my summon.
I have been back to school and stuff, the latter included senseless studying for some clicking ''fun'' for some virtual scores. A system of test administration which I am so spiteful towards for technology, in my eyes, is not infallible. So let's not torture ourselves by delving excessively into that quagmire of intangible shit. =)
To cheer my devoid state of mind up, and partially from the recommendation from my good friend Alden, I watched the 2006 film called Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. Pretty good movie, despite the dramatic end of excessive bared skin and an illogical end to the main character. It still manages to profile the mind and the emotional upheavals of a killer very well, of which reminded me alot of Ted Bundy that O-So-Charming-Guy. The movie was based on a book of the similar title which inspired the above song spawned by Rammstein.
Sinfully delicious. *grin*
Now, back to mundane reality of social pretense and all that jazz.
Metal-Listener. Card Flourisher. Aspiring Philosopher. Selective Mugger. Ubermensch-to-be. Inspired by Dharma. Nihilist. The Almost Misanthrope. Yogini. Film Enthusiast. Into everything Occult and the Esotercism. Anti-Pretentious Social Situations. Anti-Religion. Anti-Normal. Observer of This Fucked-Up World. Autodidact. Philomath. Capricorn Cusp Aquarius. Leo Ascendent. Taurus Moon Sign. Economic Left/Right: -1.88 Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -2.05.