City Beach

Have you ever been inspired by a song, in my case, it turned out to be an entire album, Shoot this by Motor Ace, and especially their song Ride the wave.

For some reason I feel that I am no longer creative. But at least I used to be, in my mind. But I can't prove it any more. I guess when I get angry (blames sisters) I throw things away. I can't seem to every find my black and white negative of an old man I drew. Some things from year nine survived. I guess they reflected what I felt at the time. That would have been a nice reason why I didn't throw them away, but honestly it's because they wouldn't had fit into the garbage bin.

For my project, I had a theme. The curriculum required us to do the city, bush and the beach, but I never really thought they were that different. One day, if I can scan it for you, I'll show you my collage. My theme was called "City Beach". For my painting I never finished, it was mainly inspired by a few songs by Moby where thetwo words merged into one for me. I escaped into a night world of lights and natural beauty, swimming across red coral with illuminated life. The neon purplish blue jelly fish swimming in the foreground seemed to be a glowing bus and the coral beneath and beyond was filled with life, just like suburbia and just like a city. Above on the beach, you can see the homes built right up to the shore and even on the rickety jetty. They were simple and suburban beach homes. Looked like the ones which would be quite expensive to buy, but left the owners bankrupt from renovating them to extreme surfing material. Further into the horison suburbia would seem to shrink into glowing specks, deep red like the coral but just as alive. And the reflection of the unseen sun reflecting in the skies above gave it a mystical feel. If it had a message, I'm sure people enjoy giving things meaning but I assure you this is an unhealthy environment for any flora or fauna, but just a concoction of the imagination.

My collage was like any other prophesy of the future. I think I recently watched the movie AI, with the little kid actor Hayley and an android searching for his mother or home, I don't recall too well. In that movie, the future of earth existed as ice, where Antarctica and the Arctic met hand in hand for every perimeter. The surface a dry white frost with the tallest buildings protruding from the blanket and deep within the ice was frigid water wearing but preserving artifacts of the human race, their lamp posts, cars, apartments, the way they lived. I guess I stole the idea closely but I had tall buildings and the sea intruding onto it's territory to the extent that they seemed to share the space in harmony. Instead of humans changing it once more, they were divers inspecting, analysing and learning off their friendship.

Well that's something you can make up from it. I just thought it looked nice. I enjoy looking at and taking pictures if I ever had the chance of industrial material, factories and their worlds. The rust, and rectangles and the contrast between vibrant and subtle colours. People value nature and that awful word "the wild" over this because they fear you lose a human touch but that's not true. Beauty isn't always so blatant, it is more valuable with it exists in an instant as everything is beautiful. If it doesn't seem to be, you may only be looking at it in the wrong perspective. If it were a flower or if it be a dead cockroach, everything had a role in this world, everything deserves respect and honor. Don't allow petty feelings such as fear and prejudice cloud your mind, have a clear judgment.

Tired of hearing an echo

I've had no energy today, I feel bad since I've not been enthusiastic for my Design teacher's class for a long time. Just ignore the fact that it's afternoon class ending at six.

I'm just way too tired today. It's amazing how many times I've become sick of being over looked. Nothing really makes sense, but together, they just make me feel glum. I've also been planning something special for a friend for a long time now but it seems to irregular to predict. I just can't be bothered to follow up with anything. Well, over looked and mis-judged. Well, most often underestimated -.-

It could be all in my head. And if it isn't, I wish it was. Maybe it's because I look absent minded. Most of the time I actually am. Or is it the fact that absent minded looking people could be thinking about something else? For example the person who thought the person was absent minded is actually looking for certain reactions. And if these reactions or responses aren't met, then they are obviously absent minded.

How about I just don't care. That sounds good.

I just don't want to be here. Like the Northern Beaches is the best place to live -.- What's the point of having friends if they don't even know you. The first thing I'm going to do when I get my P's is drive to Plumpton, visit the old duck park and enjoy the rest of the day there. I don't care who wants to come, I'm only letting one person.

Happy Mother's Day

Mum was very happy this year. It feels like that this year, first for a long time, our family was closer than normal. Mum and dad are both talking to each other like friends, and mum's beginning to enjoy dad's odd jokes again, not that I can say I understand them.

Mum has recently began walking along the beach every week so I got her dumbells. 2 one kilo ones to also work her cariovascular system. I hope that mum likes them.

Dinner wasn't entirely to plan today though, mum wasn't sapposed to cook. Because dad's never really booked it in the first place, the place was full. Instead we'll celebrate Mother's Day with food next weekend.

Hopefully it would be sunny one day for mum to try out her new dumbells.

And even if it's mother's day, it felt like a better family day than what we've tried to have, and I wish the best for mum and dad because they deserve it.

Home Drift

I can't help having a feeling to be home. Not to go home, but be at home, and not the one I eat and sleep in. The one where there isn't any more troubles. Where my parents used to take us on holidays. To their home town where the grass is kept long because it's natural and the open sewers remind you that it's safe: where ever the stench reaches.

It might have been a poor place, possibly corrupt and primitive for many who live here, but in my deceptive memories, the essence it has with it's banana farms, wide parks, open cultures, mysterious foods and trails and the many different personalities in the large family reels me in my dreams, even if it's still day.

I remember the family home, fit to house more than ten members, modest, but the perfect heirloom. My uncle kept a mini-tree in the front garden. Though it may have been a mini-tree, it was a very tall for it's size, it had a table for itself with all it's inhabitants. There were swings, a few houses, frogs and a person with a wheel barrow. It had it's own mossy grass spreading across it's miniature world, serene, it felt as if it was his dream for a better life.

The garden was roughly concrete, with the common hose attached to the house and high tiled walls with a possible blue pigments. And for Chinese New Year, they would hang a piece of lettuce from the balcony above for the lion dancers to catch. I remember mum saying that they don't do house calls in Australia and that Malaysia celebrated almost all the culture's holidays. Even the neighbours who weren't chinese were invited to watch and we all played with crackle things. They were tiny and had little fire power, but when you threw then to the ground, a snap sound would spark. Jocelin was the youngest and was only five back then. You could see her amazement she had in the reflections of her eyes, the wondrous world, the sheer mechanics of the sparkler and how on earth could the boys be so stupid to let a fire cracker fall in the neighbour's garden. Slight angry they were.

The next best memory was the smell of paper on fire, for grandmother and everybody else they were sending them to. I remember my aunty teaching me in a green dining room no one uses because it's too small how to fold paper gold lumps, what they used for currency back then. Along with other paper goods, we would burn them and they would fly to grandmother and other people. Also in the dining room were two turtles in a container. They were the most content turtles I've ever seen even if they were the only turtles I've ever seen. Above was a look down from the second storey. The bathroom was to the right and the room closest to the road the ladies of my family shared with Aunty Mary and Jocelin. Uncle sing lee ?don't know how to spell? also tried to teach us how to make some hanging things. I never liked it because it was boring and I think I made him upset.

Down stairs was also another family. I think the mother was my mum's sister, but the children had great lego. Loved playing with them, and the lego, but I don't think their parents like me much. The living room was a wide and had a warm colour, nice oranges and yellows. I remember there was one couch that always had plastic on it. It has wooden, weaved arms and nice patterned cushions. There was also a weaved rocking chair, and one of those chairs that u can lean back and relax. I'm not sure what it was made of but I remember it was colourful and it felt like those plastic clothes lines that you can scroll in and out. Their television was huge equipped with every entertainment needs such as a playstation and a VCR (Karaoke machine).

But I have to say the best thing, other than the food, was the park across the road. It always smelt good. It was like it had just rained, which was probably true since it rains every third day. There was also an open sewer running around it, like a mote and a shady plank of wood, a mighty bridge, which you must be qualified to step onto - kids only - . Besides the fact that if you were an adult you could step across. Open sewers are common there and even if I didn't enjoy the smell then, I miss it now. I've experienced smelling rotten decay and smile, reminiscing of my past. The park was a soccer field with large hollow concrete cylindars you could climb into on one end.

If you walked further up, you would uncover an iron casted, swinging bench which although was white, was also tinted with stories; secret only to whome who knew them. Hidden in the fresh trees of the tropics it sat there, staring over the field where generations played soccer. It was marvelous how secure it was, even though it looked quite old and weathered, it was encaved in the protection of the branches around it, holding it from the evolving world. But I wonder, wonder if it would still be there the next time I go back.

I remembered all this today,

From a song by Younha, Home Girl

Cotton balls of ears

I think I have a bad tendency into turn issues to my issues. Well, even if I don't yell it to the group. They say the silent ones are the most dangerous. I just feel that, time and time again, it's hard for people to listen to me. For most of the time, large group convos are moving so fast and it's like trying to jump onto a speeding train.

I know it's not entirely their fault since, whenever I can make them listen to me, I just choke or stumble on all my words. Or I can usually speak normally with people talking in the background, so all I need to do in public events is bring an ambient of rowdy students. Still, I've only realised recently that no matter how much more better this group is than others in the school, they can be an unbearable bunch.

Sometimes I feel like I can help people a lot, where in someway, my so called unorthadox advice is useful. Most of the time they work, well, for me. Maybe it's because I don't seek help from them in the first place, or maybe it's because I'm no longer in any of their classes any more. And not everyone is there at lunch times.

This feeling I have could be selfish, where I am more concerned about contributing to the group, rather than helping my friends. But sometimes, I feel like maybe I could fix the problem faster.

I had merged into the group once. One of my friends was being cut off a lot but I did nothing to let people listen to them. The worst thing was that I also contributed. It felt horrible, like there was a rush of competition on who can get out the most witty and valuable comments in before others. Instead of a survival, it was a race of the fittest with the ability to stomp on others. I shall never take or represent a role such as this ever again.

---

Gaaah, whatever, oneday I will have to start looking out for myself. I always have to wait for people to speak before I do, and when they finish, someone else barges in. There are obvious clues of a line there, hey. Maybe I need a face for myself, paid at minimum wage. All they need to do is speak, and I'll quickly hand notes of what to say.

And there's another thing. Everybody's looking for people with leadership quality skills. Come on, is that realistic? If everybody in the world were leaders, nuclear missiles would be flying through the air. I believe that people should be looking for people with group cohesion, "quality" skills. Where one can change for different circumstances, swap leadership roles. Having the ability to not only speak out, but to listen to others, have good relationship skills, u know the basics of social living. Not for the production line of Ford.