Sunday, March 26, 2006

The new baby!!
It's gonna be oh-so-mine...soon...SOON.. ^.^
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Sunken Treasure

"..don't let your life pass you by,
weep not for the memories

Dear lonely isle,

We often wonder what lies ahead of us, but we can never know, till we reach our destination.
And sometimes, to find out, maybe even out of habit, we look back.

And therein lies our past. We look upon it as one might upon an old friend, or sometimes as one might upon a skeleton in one's closet. But no matter how we perceive it, it remains still a past. Our past. That which has already come to pass.
And try as we might too, there are just some things that you cannot forget, and still more you cannot remember. Some memories lie in an archive hidden away, locked, and far beyond our reach, though it still lies within us. Others we wish to erase, to deny its existance, but to no avail.

Why is it that we cannot forget those we wish to cease remembering, and why is it we forget that which we wish to remember?

Strong memories are never really lost, and though they may fade, many things may trigger its recollection, like a bubble rises to the surface. Strangely, it is all in our heads. Everything we have ever done, seen, touched, discover, or learned is all contained in our mind. We may forget them for a while, but should the right stimulation presents itself, we remember once more.

Sometimes maybe we shouldn't. Yet on other occassions we are glad for the reminder.
Still, it is but just a memory. A flimsy thread into a past that is lost to us forever.

But then again, maybe some things are better off lost.

love, joyce.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Grey Matter

"..the remedy is the experience,
it's a dangerous liaison,
I say the comedy is that it's serious,
which is a strange enough new play on words

Dear lonely isle,

Some things we give we just can't take back.
Maybe because some things are just too insubstantial to be given or received.
But if we felt it, does it mean that it does exist?
Felt in the sense that we feel with our mental consciousness but we can sense no shape or presense, save the nature of the thing that which we have received. We can perceive hostility, ill-intent, or sometimes joy radiating from a person, but we can neither see it, touch it, feel it or even smell its presence.
Animals are said to be able to smell fear, but probably in the same sense that we are able to see a killing aura, which we can't, not really actually see an aura hovering around a really really really pissed person whom you say, spilt honey on during the trip to the ant farm, by the way.
So how do we feel something as insubstantial as love? Or hate, for that matter.
Are they really all just emotions we conjure in our heads as an explanation of the way we feel towards another person? Or is it something more?
Why do we even feel these terrible things? Hormones?
What drives us, other than the need to propagate our species, to sacrifice and to devote our time, attention and thoughts towards another?
I realise I'm starting to not make much sense again... so just forgive this relapse...
I don't know how this happens. I just start typing with a blank mind, and before I know it, I'm at a point where I don't even know what I'm typing about. So I tend to pretend that I actually know what I'm typing and that I actually intended to type it all along. It's not hard to spot these posts. It's usually things that start with something, and end up as something very different.
It happens all the time, especially when I have nothing particular to blog about, and just felt the need to go bang on the keyboard for awhile. It usually ends up with some crap post that doesn't make sense even to me, and just goes to show that the human brain, when left running idle without much thought processing, will tend to malfunction and spew crap in every direction. Or maybe it's just me. Other people who leave their brains running idle, and let the grey cells direct the fingers across the keyboard probably end up penning "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" or even the "A Brief History of Time". Which just goes to show why I will never make it as an author or will never become a philosophical genius. Everything I say tends to be crap-saturated.
And while most bloggers tend to write beautiful and meaningful posts, I tend towards the nonsensical junk just to fulfill my fingers' need to exercise. And possibly because my mind is always blissfully blank when I start blogging. It's only when I've finished and published the post that I realise the amount of damage I have caused, both to my reputation as a mentally stable person and to other people's perception of me as one. Which I think that with each oncoming post, is eroding their initial view of me as one, and building up the mental barricade that I am certainly not one.
Well, I know your opinion of me is certainly somewhere below ground by now, and hopefully with this post, you will realise that most of this is against my will as my mind does not care much for my reputation, neither does it really give much thought to how people see me and so on henceforth continues to type..

Well, there is only so much crap you can produce in one day, and for this brain, I think today's production is a tad bit lower than normal thanks to the inability and ineffectiveness of this body to recover from fevers fast enough.

So thank you for making it this far.

love, joyce. ('s brain)

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Parading The Skeleton

"..where is the moment we need it the most,
you kick up the leaves and the magic is lost.."

Dear lonely isle,

Well the terrifying things are out, and I guess I've come to somewhat terms with it.
I can't shut them back in the closet so I guess I have to figure out what to do with the little nightmares.
Well, my dad was suggesting Sabah, so I pray that people don't want to go there and not apply for it, so that my chances are higher, but then again, oh well, whatever happens is probably determined to make me scream and feel like trashing someone. So I pray that for once, that things will come out rather desireable.
After all if I do get it, I am going to go all the way to Sabah, and possibly live surrounded by heaps and heaps of mother nature.
Mother nature and I have always lived on the basis of; she's out there, and I'm in here. We see each other occasionally and politely wave, but other than that, we pretty much mind our own business.
But I'm hardly complaining, I'd probably be much too happy to refuse.
Well I'd probably complain 1 week into the whole course. Then maybe you should check back with me in a month or 2. If I haven't died by then, you can rest assured I'm going to be just fine.
So everything's going to be all right right?

If they would only let me register and apply for the bloody course...

love, joyce.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Dear lonely isle,

Tonight I wanna cry.

love, joyce.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006


Dear lonely isle,

I realise that many people do not know the difference between having tact and promoting ignorance.
I realise that many people do not think their way though before opening their mouth to speak. The first thing that pops into their mind is said, without considering the consequences. The space of what we want to say and what we say is very very small, and often we tend to skip the thinking and consideration part.

But first, ignorance and having tact.
Ignorance is knowing that your housing area is in the way of a giant hurricane, yet you refuse to evacuate because you think what you don't know, can't hurt you. Ignorance is not knowing the difference between having tact and ignorance, and thinking it's the same. Ignorance is not a crime, yet sadly there are many people who think it is. Especially ignorant people. (who sadly, do not realise they are.)
They believe that because they can handle certain issues, that everyone can. I mean, we all get it that you of all people are very strong emotionally and are able to handle earthquakes and death on a regular basis, but for the rest of us, some things affect us more deeply than others. And why we react differently to these things is what makes us all different inside, unique, and human. A person who does not panic in a fire is no better than one who does. There is a reason to the way we react. And understanding that, in a way, is tact.
And being able to understand that, to know how it feels like to be in another person's shoes, and to react to that person, taking into consideration the person's feelings, opinions, and how important that issue is to that person, is tact.
The same sentence, when said in a different tone, or in a different way can have a different effect on a person. While some people are more direct in their approach, they would prefer a softer approach to them. It all boils down to the fact that everyone is different, and we handle our issues in a different way. Some people face their fear to conquer it, others avoid it. It does not make one type better than the other. And because everyone is different, there will be some who like you, some who love you, and some who hate you. Because everyone sees things in a different perspective, it takes a different approach for a different person. Nothing works for everyone.
For those who choose to bulldoze their ideas past everyone in the way or anyone they meet, they must learn to accept that not everyone will appreciate what they do, even if they're trying to help. Because perhaps even a different term used can make a difference between hate and gratitude.
And what some people must learn to understand is that, just because you can say it, doesn't mean that you have to or should. Just because you believe it to be right, or the truth or something you consider to be facts, doesn't mean that you should say it. Consider a man on his death bed, and because most people are afraid of death (something which most people can't understand I believe. While I'm not afraid of death, I understand that people are always afraid of the unknown. See? example of tact. Which is why death has to be handled delicately with most people.) you do not ask the dying man would he wish to be cremated or buried, especially if he's terrified of his fate. It may seem stupid to most ignorant people but then again, put yourself in the man's shoes. Have pity, if not sympathy for him that he feels that way, and help him be at ease during his last days, by not causing him to be more freaked out than he already is.
Tact is mostly about putting yourself in the other person's shoes, and trying to understand what it feels like even if you don't understand how they can see it that way. You don't have to understand the reason. Just having the heart to understand the feelings is enough to know that some people need to be handled differently.
Being blunt, direct, frank, brash, or any other name you want to give it, does have its charm sometimes. But it's the person who knows when to use it and when not to, is a person who thinks with his brain, and not let his mouth do the thinking for him. For if you keep talking, how can you listen. And if you do not listen, how can you hope to understand? The first step before you impart advice or another is to first listen. If you do not know how, shutting up and paying attention to what the other person has to say would be a good effort in the right direction.

Well, sorry for the extended lecture, but I really felt that some people should know this. And maybe consider what they have written, or said, in a different light, and see for themselves how ignorant they are, even if they try to believe that they're covered in truth.

love, joyce.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

The Most Worthless Person

Dear lonely isle,

I'm just too tired.
And I just don't understand.
Am I so stupid that everything I say has to be crap of some kind?

I don't understand why I can't just complain or whine about something.
I've listened to lame stories, stupid dilemmas and crappy experiences all in the name of friendship. Stupid things that really seem worthless to me. No matter how stupid or small the problem is. No matter how lame I think it is. Because I don't want to offend people. Because I fucking care. Because I know that after that you'll feel better. That you can smile again. So I listen, because I understand that sometimes you just need to complain. That everyone needs to vent once in awhile. And they want someone to respond. To tell them it's alright, that everything will be ok and that has got to be the worst experience ever and that no one is ever as unlucky as you. And that they need cheering up.

Why can't the fuck I get the same?

Why can't I ever complain or just vent without ever getting a "it's just..." , "too bad then." or a " I've had worse."? I mean I understand that most of the population today have probably been through World War 2 which is why everything I ever say is so insignificant that no one ever notices.
Why can't I ever express myself without getting fucking pissed by people who think that they're telling the truth as it is? And people wonder why I don't explain things or don't tell them things. I would, if you would listen.

People always tell me I look happy. That I have a positive outlook on life. That being around me makes them feel better because I can make them feel better.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I need to feel better too...

I guess I really need to hear those magic words.
Words often spoken. Words I tell everyone who needs to hear it. Because I know that we all need them once in awhile.
Funny, but I hardly ever hear it.

But then again, I guess I'm just not worth it. Not worth listening to. Not worth comforting. Not worth any damn thing but always there should you need to complain.

Just forget about it I guess. I'll just complain here. And listen to the silence.

love, joyce.

PS: please don't comment on this. I've had enough as it is. I don't need to listen to more "too bad"s, "that's life"s , "you can't expect everything to go smoothly"s, "it's just.."s, "why are you overreacting?"s, and whatever shit you people can dish up. Just spare me the fucking smart remarks k? Didn't your parents ever teach you that if you don't have anything nice to say, just shut up? Oh yes I forgot, you're all claiming to be fucking bitches and bastards, so that's your excuse to be offensive to the world.


heaven bent to take my hand
and lead me through the fire
be the long awaited answer
to a long and painful fight

truth be told I've tried my best
but somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
and the cost was so much more than I could bear

though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
better I should know
so don't come around here
and tell me I told you so..

we all begin with good intent
love was raw and young
we believed that we could change ourselves
that the past could be undone

but we carry on on our back the burden
time always reveals
in the lonely light of morning
in the wound that would not heal

it's the bitter taste of losing everything
that I've held so dear

I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
better I should know
so don't come around here
and tell me I told you so

heaven bent to take my hand
no where left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
to everyone I know

oh they turn their heads, embarassed
pretend that they don't see
but it's one misstep
and you'll slip before you know it

and there doesn't seem a way
to be redeemed

though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
better I should know
so don't come around here
and tell me I told you so.

Sarah Mclachlan

The F Word

"..but it's one misstep,
and you'll slip before you know it,
and there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed.."

Dear lonely isle,

I don' t want to face it.
I refuse to face it.
I don't want to wake up and realise that it's the truth.
I don't want to live with the fact that I'm a failure.

I guess everything boils down to this. I'm a failure.
I am a failure.

And for every person that believes in you, every person that you let down, is more than a hundred times repaid on yourself. For every person that I let down, I let myself down even more.
And the person who cannot forgive me for this failure, the one who will never forget, can never forget, is me.
So at the end of the day, no matter how much I cry, worry or think about the disappointment I'm causing others, the biggest disappointment is mine.

Sometimes the hardest thing to face in life is failure. Especially if you've never failed before (in that sense). And truly, it's a very big step for me.
You can hold my hand, but you can't face my fear for me.
Yes. I can't face it.
It's probably very silly for most people that I'm blogging about this, but then again, I've always been a silly little girl. Refusing to grow up and look at the real world. Wanting to live in my land of parks, swings and stories.

Sooner or later I will have to come to terms with it, but even the very thought of it sends me the shivers.
The fact that I'm a failure.

There it is again. The F word.

Someone tell me the magic words.

love, joyce.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

That Which Does Not

"..let me empty,
and weightless,
and maybe,

I'll find some sleep tonight

Dear lonely isle,

That which does not kill you will only make you stronger.
Or so I've been told.
However, that which does not kill you will also make you:
  1. Pissed.
  2. Sore & tired.
  3. Aching all over.
  4. Cuss at god and the world.
  5. Feel like never ever doing another day of work in your life.
  6. Decide to become a parasite and live off your parents till the day YOU die.
  7. Possibly more resilient to hard work than you already are.
  8. Wish that it had.
Well, yea I'm not actually dead, neither am I any stronger. If anything, all my aches, pains and sores are carried over to the next day, where they accumulate another layer of aches, pains and sores and pile one on top of the other, and possibly turning into layers of fossilied agony and suffering. Basically, I end up with one big mothershitload of aches, pains and sores. Better yet, it can be documented this way, so that future generations will know and understand as I have suffered. And will possibly decide to live off their parents for the rest of their lives rather than repeat this mistake.
Eternal rest is the definite 'in' thing for me. Nothing could be greater than never having to work another day of your life, staying in bed until past ten, and not doing anything productive.

So that which does not kill you, just should have tried harder.
God knows it's a whole lot less suffering that way.

love, joyce.

Monday, March 06, 2006

~ who's more innocent? ~
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~ can't decide? ~
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I swear he bullies me....
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~ haz and i ~
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...don't disturb people with shiny hair...
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~ don't take my picture ck...
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~ cam whores ~ and loving it! ~
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~ feel the love...
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~ future huggers, love drivers and junk food promoters.
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~ what happens when we're told those aren't proper jobs..
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Friday, March 03, 2006

The Reason

"..I know I tend to get so insecure,
it doesn't matter anymore

Dear lonely isle,

What do you's already March.
Yup, my days are numbered.

Well, I guess I miss us.
I miss the times we could just pick a house and hang out in each other's rooms. Just lie around, and talk about things we don't tell other people.
I miss the days we'd go out, on impulse and shop, or eat, or watch movies or just walk around.
I miss trips to the park in the evening, feeding mosquitoes and buying corn.
I miss the swings.

I miss girls' night out.
I miss sleepovers.
I miss sitting in the dark at night in a car, listening to songs.
I miss cooking days. I miss baking together.
I miss everything.
I guess I miss us.

But on the other hand, it's nice to see that smile.
I've missed that stupid face too.
Just to know that everything's fine again.

Well, what more can I ask?
It's everything that makes me happy.
So as long as you are, I am too.

Being close doesn't mean that you have to see each other everyday. You don't even need to spend lots of time together, because what's close is the distance between your hearts. If truly there is such a link between 2 people, you'll know that even if you haven't seen each other in years, you'll pick up right where you left off.
Or so I tell everyone else.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm really trying to tell myself.

If I was, what am I trying to say?

Whispers in the wind. Nothing more.

love, joyce.