HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY COTTONBUTTYY!
May life from here on out be as fruitful and fulfilling as it is now for you (to quote the birthday girl herself, "complete"), and please, you are a big girl now, so live responsibly! =P
A little graphical image of the big, big girl. =D
Life mocks me, and I want to mock life - and without realising it, mocking starts to stand awkwardly on stilts, as if the meaning of mocking life has lost itself in repetition.
I asked her what would be in store for her in the future when she takes flight - she replied that she will take flight indeed, and to the faraway land of Beijing. At once, I was stunned, surprised, very glad, very happy for her.
I envy people who could just wing it and go for their dreams. It is a rush of exhiliration - a thrill that stems from knowing that there are still people out there who believes in being adventurous, who wouldn not mind failure, who lives for taking chances.
I want to be one of them too.
Confounding. My mind has been playing mirror tricks on me, leaving trails of dreams that feature so much of him. Something that has already left your memories for so long would still haunt you in your deepest slumber. Why? Do we store memories in a recess at the very back, only to be dug out when we least expect it?
HALLOOOOOOO!
I AM FINALLY RECONNECTED TO PLANET EARTH!! =DD
My gosh, sorry for the absence - it has definitely felt like ages for me, goodness gracious! My lappie - RIP, old man - died on me last week, and for the whole seven days I was on an abstinence from my usual bouts of TV downloads and Internet surfing, and by God, it has definitely felt like eternity.
At long last I have got back my beloved lappie (with a spanking new Vista to add), but alas, all of my downloads shall remain in the ashes, along with my pictures, my writings... Sighers. Blame it on my ignorance and my naivety for believing that since the lappie is relatively new it would never crash. I was so, very wrong.
Anyway, I would like to show some nice little pictures I managed to take during my week-long crash diet, and this time it involved some awesome fashion collection, courtesy of KENZO:
Post-script on the fashion show:
KENZO for Autumn/Winter 2009 emanates such positivity that it shone through and through. I had the concession to watch European models trot around the newly-opened boutique in Starhill KL, mouth agape whenever each outfit presented itself in all its glory.
The concept of the fashion show was supposed to be avant-garde - there were about five models in total, and they "mingled" amongst the common folks in the most exquisite designs. When you see masterpieces this close, you could actually understand why luxury goods can cost a bomb. The pailettes and woven jacquards all evidently were spun out of magic - you could actually see how each outfit was personally tailored and created with heart and soul.
I love the paisley meshes KENZO used; I loved how random shapes and patterns actually created the most flattering illusions. KENZO definitely remained true to its philosophies: taking random patterns and putting them back together to create something that is so simple and yet meaningful.
Although, indeed, some may disagree about the clothes being all about flattery, because implicitly these outfits can also be awfully hard to wear.
Did I also mention that standing side-by-side or in close proximity to the models make you feel utterly dwarf-like?
Every piece is so versatile and quintessential. You can instantly say it is KENZO with all the shape-shifters and loose-fitting kimono-styled designs.
I am so loving the dresses, especially the one on the right!
Pangs of Paris, Hong Kong, London, and other places that I have had my footsteps trotted over hit me like strong currents and waves through the senses of sights and scents this other morning - in the elevator on my way to work, a smell of this familiarly intense perfume of a woman (or perhaps, boudoir/enclosed areas) reminded me of the frozen fingers in Beijing, of the intoxicating, lung-piercing coldness of winter air, of chaffed cheeks and frost-bitten eyelids.
- A passing second near a cafe, the pungent scent of foreign food, French or Italian, I was not sure, did not care either - all I could see were memories of Parisian breakfasts and the whoozing noise of the Metro.
So many things seem so inexplicable to me - often times, people tell me that there will always be karma, but tell me this: does it, really?
The long-winding road of backstabs and misery caused by unnecessary screamfests, all of this, do they really have to be part of the journey through life? Is it really necessary at all?
Sometimes I feel like I am back in high school - the puerile aspect of it.
I wore this the other day, and got penalised for wearing "short pants" to work:
It was Jaime-ster's birthday today so there was meringue, and a big bouquet of lilies intertwined with pink roses. The whole office smelled of pink lilies, it was just lovely.
And yes, this could may well start to give off a whiff of no-life-outside-the-office as even birthdays are celebrated "in-house". Hrmm.
Jaime-ster.
He on the right is one of the girls! Haha!
Even though last week was absolutely nuts (when I can no longer hear the alarm in the morning, then it really means that I am in deep shit), I am quite amazed that I could still find outlets amidst the storm to take pictures haha. Proves how much of a camwhore I really am! =P
Old dress that I just had a sudden inspired moment to drape a scarf over it. A lot of people kept asking me if it was a part of the dress or an overall. Hmm...
And as promised, here is the black doppeldanger of my last white dress post. I think they are really different (as mentioned before) but what do you think? In contrast with the white piece, which I felt more appropriate with minimalist accessories, I took the liberty to don tons of baubles for this black number instead.
And some pieces from not-too-long-ago, which I was waaay too tired (and lazy) to post.
My lovely Breton shirt! I have only managed to wear it during my down-times on the weekends so far but tried to incorporate it into my workwear. Hmm. A bit weird though.
Just the other day, I upended my Chanel shopping bag to spill a cart load of used make=up paraphernalia - and a card, an innocuous white piece of card board, square in shape, scrawled over with words that reminded me of chicken legs.
This card would not do the handwriting any justice, because as it stated blatantly, it was written in haste, while driving, perhaps, on the steering wheel as he carefully considered the endeavour without sounding the horn.
Anger bubbled up in me when this memory surfaced. It has been such recently, whenever nostalgia hit me like violent flashes in the eyes. I do not know anymore if I am truly angry at him, or the memories, or me. But all I know for sure is that I am angry.
Smithereens. I want to smash it all into smithereens. Smithereens is such a powerful word. One glance at this word and you could almost feel the sensation of running your fingers along sharp edges, see the jarring sparks of fire right smacked in your face.
I had a motley of images running like carousel around my head last night. Four hours of sleep and not more these days, and when I have the luxury to sleep without heeding the alarm clock, I see faces, lots of faces. I see my sister craving for roasted duck; I see my colleague who has recently been diagnosed with cancer retching as a result of her treatment; I see the painfully thin body of hers; and there were so, so many more that I could no longer remember.
I would never dream of taking hot chocolate, but I have. Once. Now I would not even dream of taking hot chocolate because it has him scrawled all over it. But one of these days, I will finally see hot chocolate as it is, and relate that purple sachet back to my dad, who had once been all things chocolate-related.
A sachet upended. Brown rocks thrown into the wind. Like smithereens crushed under the weight of my palm.
At 9:15pm I am parked in front of a traffic light, with a black Jeep flanking me on the left, and a pair of lovers canoodling in the Nissan before me.
Was it a Nissan?
I have never been partial to automobiles, so same goes to my knowledge of them.
It is 9:15pm, going on to 9:16pm, 9:17pm, 9:18pm.
It is the time when everyone are in pairs or more, in a cloistered car.
It is 9:15pm on a Friday night, and I am in a cloistered car driving.
Driving alone, driving home, to a night alone.
