To the moon. And back.

I've been away for so long but what can I say, tumblr has more fascinating pictures than clementomy.
It's such a convenient tool to express what I want to say, and what I don't want to say. Just strolling down the page and click "Reblog" whenever I see pretty/funny/obscene picture.

The brilliant creator designed it in such a simple form, to the extent that I don't care if I ever put any effort in explaining my smile and tears. A picture tells it all, which lead me to a belief that one day all the novel will be evolved into picture form, just like kid story books, because adults are too busy to translate words with their brain.

When I feel sad I reblog a picture of strangers with their tears rolling down.
When I am happy I reblog picture of Nicole Scherzinger.
When I get lonely I reblog picture of couples kissing in bed. or something like that HAHAHA.

My emotion has became less valuable because it's not as beautifully photographed as others'.
Because I, the master of my own body, don't give a damn to put it down in words or if I choose the right word to express my feeling anymore.

But things will come to a halt no matter how terrific it has been, like how I came to this point finding watching adult movie as meaningless as waiting for poo to come out.
But I know the ending of something will carry out the outset of something else, in character radiation style, the vacancy will never be empty.

It's these little things

That remind me of you.

I googled so many stories about how others miss their grandpa I wanna write the best story of you.
What should I do to let you know how much I've missed you since you've been away?

The caring eyes of Charles Xavier in Xmen.
The wit of Gandalf in LOTR.
The physique of Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter.

There are moments when I wanna call you but I know you won't be there.
And there are countless nights when I need bedtime stories but I know those untold stories will be remained unfolded.
Also there are moments when I thought "Ah I should tell grandpa this I think he'll like this" and I know you'll get my message, somehow.(you do right?)

Are you proud of who I am?
I remember you were so proud of another grandson of yours who scored 5As in UPSR.
Do you think I can trace the same happiness in your eyes if I told you I'll be a dentist one day?
I need a reassurance, which I can't get from anyone else.
How I wish I have just one more chance to look into your eyes and see you looking back.
Would you tell me if I am doing the right thing?

Flashback.Swirl.
Regret is the only word I managed to rummage from the mixed up memory.
I should have held your callous hands more often.
I should have walked with you to the park more frequently.

I wanna know if you used to ponteng class too.
I wanna know did your heart race in your skin tight jeans when you had your first kiss.
I wanna know the story when you hid in jungle during the 513.
I wanna hug you. Simply.

I am done, smoking gun.

Putting back 'A Special Providence' to my little bookshelf and slowly, very slowly choosing another book, all the emotions that I've managed to muster get bewildered.

I just finished soaking myself in a second world war story and soon I'm gonna explore another different world, it also means my holiday entertainment just got cut down to a countable number.

Diagnosis: another Tuesday night with insomnia.

With the dim tinge of disorientation lingering in the damp atmosphere, I am losing something I can't quite recognise, bit by bit. I can't help thinking what would have happened in my life if the word "what if" could prove its significant existence.

If I insisted to continue my art lesson, may be I can be a happy painter one day.

If I had a big brother who can teach my basketball or some lame pick up lines, may be masturbation wouldn't be a very sinful thing afterall.

If I had a patient tomorrow, I wouldn't be holding my warm milk around 2am, listening to my new favourite singer.

If I never spent 6 years in a boarding school, right now my heart would be pounding frantically at the thought of going home this weekend.

If I can be less sentimental, who knows I'll have a wider acquaintance.

Now I am aware, I am losing the sense of reality.

Exactly.

Sophomore, such a beautiful word, like sapphire.
I think these two words are equally valuable. Not only they sound sexy they are intelligent too.

In Freshmen Year everybody was like-just-light-cured-composite. Some are rough some are as absorbable as the radical oxygen layer ready to be filled in with every raw thing and some are already very pretty(this is so totally not me).

Come to Sophomore Year. After a whole year of polishing everybody get so close with everybody we shrink into one piece. We are so ready to shine like a sapphire in the coming future, naively.

I got so chagrined to learn that the next year is called Final Year and I've only accomplished less than 10 restorations how could it be final? I name the third year Valour Year. We need to get rid of any stymie or dummy and treat REAL patient ok. And we practise many challenging stunts.

It's very despondent not able to write something brilliant at the age of 22 and still bemoaning in my self pity. The 18 years old me can find the flaw in Newton Third Law (i was such a cool kid); now my bed time story is Sex and The City (manwhore alert!).

Devolution. Like how the old handphone dai gor dai developed into tiny handphone and recently transformed into my face-sized Galaxy Tab. It's a sign. One day contact lens will be so obsolete and my 6 years old nerdy specs will be the fashion icon again.

What an emo entry! What can I say. Everybody got so busy soaking themselves in the romantic Valentine Day and I'm staying in my room sharing this with my only viewer chelseaorange, and youtubing Apple Bottom Jeans Dance. I got so low low low low low low...

"They gave up days and weeks of their lives, addicted to someone else's drama."-Tuesday with Morrie. (so damn true.but it's ok.teenagers are supposed to be fun, and stupid.)

I'm not a fun guy.

You know when you're supposed to focus on phagocytosizing your notes but you have the congenital procrastinator disorder, this is the time when your imagination comes alive and bring you to the universe.
If the condition is chronic enough you might be able to recall how much money you owe the girl who sits next to you and what have you done right after the second year final exam.

I can remember clearly what I did right after my major exam last year. Or few months back.

Ok I cleaned my room. And filed up my notes.
These are the SAME two things that I do EVERYTIME the liberty bell rings.

Somehow it confuses me how do those people manage to go out after exam. It's not like I am THAT fatigue but I always end up cleaning my room and notes and go to bed when the dawn breaks the serene horizon.

I remembered Melvin once said this to me when he came back from Redang Trip after the 2nd year final : Harrr you stay in your room ONLY for so maaaaaaany days? Not sien(boring) meh?

No la I did go down to cafe for meals.

*KK asked me the same question few hours ago. And I curi-curi edited his photo HAHA :)

Yes I guess you're right. I'm really really really(3 times!) a vapid teenager.
Staying in my room and read my story books and watched my favourite shows, so far that was the closest to the best time of my life.
See.

Go out with friends la or eat some cheese cakes or inhale the delightful oxygen in shopping mall la!
Uhh.neh!
I already spent a lot of time for exam and my nerve impulses were maintained at the plateau level for few months that's insane.
I need time for myself. Like a mini meditation but not that spiritual or ethical.

Like..spending time to know more about yourself. Then may be you get bored then you watch porn and masturbate. That's COMPLETELY fine. After that you continue your rumination about forgiveness and love.

Or like..You read others' blogs and discover the other human beings on the other side of the earth. Not necessary have to go out and catch the latest movie in cinema. OMG i'm so antisocial.

*I want to watch this movie - Natalie Portman's Black Swan!!!

And like..(Oh this is my favourite!) Imagine how're you going to meet your future wife. Is it like you running your finger across those book spines in an ancient library and there is another lovely lady with plaits doing the exact same thing from the opposite site and finally two fingers stop at the same book and you two exchange a small grin?(but if the book is Fight Club then probably i'll take the book and run HAHAHAHA)

*FYI that is Audrey Hepburn

Or you're licking your favourite icecream in a joyful beach together with your adopted son and then your little cute son goes make friend with a little cute girl who is sitting with her very young mother at the bench next to yours.

Told you. Imagination brings you to travel the infinite universe especially during exam period.

Time to study!

My armpits cold sweat when I get nervous

(not a very pleasant title isn't it?)

Like during my first clinic session I went to the washroom every 0.5 minutes (to *ahem-dry my armpits-ahem*) before my patient show up.
Part of me was praying harder than usual hoping he wouldn't turn up. Well. All I can say is my dream came true, eventually.
(he skipped my dental appointment twice and the only time he came i waited for one and a half hour. Now i'm praying for a new and punctual patient)

Like when Aimee asked me to try the pendulum stunt this Thursday. I was incredibly ecstatic and my armpits were cold sweating in sync -___________-
After watching the video and I came across this comment : Did the cheerleader die?
*sorry i need to stop typing. My hand is busy looking for tissue papers again

Like when I imagine the restorationS (yes i need to emphasize the S) that I'm going to try this Friday..oh poor soul.
I've never done any restoration on REAL patient yet NOT EVEN ONCE! How am I gonna do six restorations in 2 and a half hours?
Are you armpit cold sweating?

Oh yeah you bet!

This reminded me that I have oral radio practical next Tuesday and Dr Sham asked me (very specific ME) to memorize the angulation.

It's Christmas.Again.

I love Christmas. Everyone does.

In fact I used to sit by the window sill on Christmas morning to check whether God will show His mercy and miracle by giving Malaysia a white christmas.
As much as I can remember I never had any white Christmas so let's keep our fingers and toes crossed.

Eventually the absence of snow doesn't bother me anymore ever since Harry Potter first joined my Christmas with his sorcerer's stone.

Somehow I invited Harry Potter and his gang to my Christmas Night every year and we enjoyed the magic movies together, but my guests always sat opposite me and squeezed their asses in a small electronic box.

I guess this is their Hogwarts courtesy.

There is rumour spreading around saying Neville Longbottom is a catch and Hermione Granger finally get rid of her puffy hair.

I'll ask them 3 weeks later.

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time.
Merry Christmas people.

(Oh that's my room door isn't it beautiful?)