Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Posts Tagged ‘facebook

Fez Knows Mandalorian, Klingon, Quenya, Cthonic the Language of the Elder Gods

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Mew!

Black Cat by Blitzenius

Finally Facebook forced me to accept their new “Myspace” layout. Next week they’ll forced feed me with gibberish status update.

I’m glad there’s still humour in the coding department.

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My last entry seemed like I’m overtly enthusiastic with my old job. Whereas, the faster I finished up the task. The earlier I could take my break for the Laneway Festival in Singapore.

I know that I can’t digest the whole information in a week to create the database from zero and I don’t dare to set my own dateline before the music festival. Thus, I’m pretty much pessimistic about my presence to the festival.

At least there’s still Deftones and MGMT to look forward to.

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Freelancing is fun, and scary world of responsibilities.

I’m half-way being the Subsea Engineer with a part-timer job as cinematographer, but nowhere near the 2-axis motion time-lapse videographer that I wanted to be.

February will be the month I collected few time-lapse shot of the urban cities and the rural areas for my portfolio.

March to June, a 3 month spells of HDSLR production work with Astro.

July to September, course work at TWI, Thailand or Scotland for CSWIP 3.4U Underwater Inspection Controller.

October to December, offshore work at Turkmenistan or oversea cinematography work with Manggis.tv — again.

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I’ll ask her out.

Written by cthulhu

January 19, 2011 at 1:07 am

Her Reasons for Separation and Rebuilding Trust

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“Do I want to continue marrying the same person who constantly makes me cry because he cannot forget his past lover and these are proven by his stalking activities on her and his continuous referral to her?” — Sue

It’s all started with that one comment:

“After a while you’ll forget everything, it was a brief interlude and a midsummer night’s fling and you’ll see that it’s time to move on…[Meat Loaf]” from my ex-gf “public” twitter. An Interlude inside the blind spot.

What I meant on that comment is I’ve to move on from the past entanglement. Funnily enough, it’s déjà vu all over again. I can see the pattern now. Sue would have a problem of me ‘stalkin’ Ebb and previously: Sewya with Amie, Ebb with Sewya, Sue with Ebb, Ms. Vava Voom with Sue…etc.

And so it’s true, it ended because of distrust:

The haunting of past memory — made anew — fueling the distrust, basking in its flame.

I’m sorry I can’t be more at a present in-real-life than what she found out about me from the internet alter-ego.

I’m always away — weeks and months. I can’t blame her. The twitter (retweet), flickr (MMO avatar set) and youtube (the small inscription at the profile) incident that she found out while I’m away justifies that much of the misunderstanding.

I took 3 days leave just to digest that one entry from her. I’m depressed. I can’t be at work desk, much less gone back to Singapore for the Aramco mob to Dubai.

I’ve been refraining myself from contacting her after that small warning from her fb last month, just after I touchdown KL from Miri.

I can’t sleep throughout the night. Yesterday, I can’t take it no more. I text her at dawn, told her how I felt. She replied passively in her blog entry. The same mode of reply after I try to reconnect the 3 month incommunicado.

Her reply summarized it all.

It’s time to delete her name from the speed dial, keeping her number still.

Take down her gift of the key chain bracelet with her name inscribed from the reading desk lamp. Her first gift that I always bring along with me whenever I gone outstation and offshore — the same goes with that “Paris Metro (Subway) System Map” (hehehe, she’s sweet, like that) and the Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet (the only author that we always cherished his works, pity that I can’t live the dream of The Prophet).

The rest, she already done emptying the vessel of this mortal heart in advance.

I compartmentalized the memories; the morning wishes, the evening sadness and the night kisses.

There’s always a bit of the memories of the past that make you sad or smile. We can revel in our past, but to relive them is unnecessary.

Take a deep breathe, and let it go.

I love you, Sue. I’m going to miss you, Miss 5S.

It’s late. For the past few days, I only got to sleep after dawn. Hopefully I can sleep before dawn today.

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He loves her more.

I’m happy for her.

verklempt.

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Something on Related Post: Rebuilding Shattered Trust

To begin the process of restoring trust, the offender must acknowledge the violation of trust and make a sincere apology. The five key components of an apology:

  1. A statement of apology (I’m sorry)
  2. Remorse (I feel badly)
  3. An offer of restitution (can I make up for it?)
  4. Self castigation (I was an idiot), and
  5. A request for forgiveness (can/will you forgive me)

Is there any hope for rebuilding shattered trust? Not for me — at this time.

Everclear, Never Clear

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Some people can conjure mean things when they don’t get what they want. They start to do shit like your friend did, or starting to say something along the line ‘you owe me a lot’ and blabla RM blabla.

That’s quite rich from someone who takes most of selective statement from me as mere rhetorical expression.

First, she got pretty adamant with the value of her reply is binding with valid form of citation. Which I didn’t stated it electronically (in the oh-so-public Facebook with selected circle of friends, micro-blogging of Twitter or Tumblr, or even wordpress), but I did in written form in my moleskine — which also was questioned by her the need to keep a written journal on Moleskine.

Second, the whole fiasco about a simple thing as receiving one “mass sms” and being resolute with my other text afterward as being exact copy to others. Do I have to elaborate things like: “I’m boarding my plane to the plane of echolalia.” Or do I have to make a creative writing on the passing of loved one, just to be unique per messages?

Third, what part of sarcasm she doesn’t realized when I mention about monetary depreciation in tandem with this statement:

It’s easier to make the argument worse by divulging financial losses. That’s when alimony issues arise.

It’s a non-sequitur irony to the power of null. Equal to ONE simple comprehension. And yes, I do keep track of my expenses on my Excel Spreadsheet since last 5 years. Like my dad said (who did financial auditing and accounting before he retired):

Buat kira-kira, tapi jangan berkira.

Count the penny, don’t be pinchpenny.

I don’t think it’s Ebenezer Scrooge paranoia when my last relationship I got £1700 cheque somewhere in her bank account — for working visa to UK. That’s quite a lot in RM, you know. I’m not an offspring of Sarawakian Timber Towkey.

When someone request an amount of cash as a loan. It didn’t suppose to mean ex gratia even if it’s given with bona fide. What am I, a pro bono dunce?

An increase in monetary gain can always put us in a different kind of perspective. A new sight of people can always put us to see things in different way. We become more stingy [stingier?] even if we earn much more than what we used to. We become vain when we don’t look like we used to. We become proud when we are not in the level that we used to. We become heartless even we used to be humble.

If I can get away with my bank with these “empathetic angst” everytime they ask me to pay my credit card. I’m scot-free.

Am I always this angry? Only on the internet. As angry as An Irritable Panda.

By the way, in that successful publicised notes on facebook amongst her closest friends and saints, the Everclear’s I Will Buy You A New Life lyrics is the epitome of irony when she “conjure mean things when she don’t get (understood) what the reality wanted”

Here is the money that I owe you 

So you can pay the bills

I will give you more when I get paid again

I hate those people who love to tell you

Money is the root of all that kills

To malign me as Ebenezer Scrooge is one thing, being demonised as Shylock, The Merchant of Venice is the demon of all miser.

I can stand Charles Dickens, but William Shakespeare? Not cool. Let’s play “empathetic angst” game, me as the Shylock — the heartless creditor.

SHYLOCK: Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions, fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

— William Shakespeare (1564–1616), English poet and playwright. The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 1.

Oh, please. Don’t spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. Yes, I notice the irony of this too.

LORENZO: How every fool can play upon the word!

William Shakespeare (1564–1616), English poet and playwright. The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 5.

Did I ever ask for a pound of flesh? Yes, in a perverted way — Bar Refaeli!

I’m a faux Jew, and I love the Israeli model; Bar Refaeli (בר רפאלי). I had been looking for the 2009 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition at the Borders and MPH without avail. Oh, how I heart thee, international Zionist celebrity. I wish I could savour her as I sipped my equally Zionist Starbucks’ Caramel Macchiato at the Borders — whom the barrista at the The Gardens keep pronouncing the name with phlegmy pseudo-american accent. WHeip? WHeup? Oh, Whip Cream. Laila? Pardon my mate(s), for he/she hardly assent to your barista pretentiousness.

I wish I didn’t have to resort being this divulging. Yet Moleskine written journal is indistinct inside the black cahier bind.

Oh, f*ck, now my FB friends know this wordpress link (or maybe not).

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Caveat: The gravity of this entry can be taken selectively e.g. I’m a pro-Semitic capitalist or I’m an irritable panda in real life. Be free to reconcile with mutual kiss-and-forget or retaliation with nondescript monologue.

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Look ma, I can do “mass note(s)” too.

How Facebook Released Me from the Fetter of My Own Inhibition — Closure

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The two of you, now in relationship

Zwei

Now that they’re officially in relationships – being a couple. I can now safely steer away from being complicated to single again.

Funny how social network makes more sense in the honest truth about courtship.

I can now have closure.

Singularity

Eins

I don’t think its coincidence the sudden pang of nostalgia when it rain last night.

I’m always fond of the rain. The drizzle is soothing to this fragile soul.

I’m out at wee hour, taking a ride with my roomie, not to accompany him, but rather to drive in the middle of the rain. I stayed inside the car, while the roomie going about his business. The windscreen echoed the blissful sound of the spattering rain. The light flickered under the wavy splash of deluge. I hummed to the sound of the radio in the background.

I continued the conversation with her through the wonder of mobile phone.

If we first met, the last 4 years ago, today. I would have the same monologue (almost) like this:

It’s already raining outside. Soon it poured.

I took my dad’s car key, went to the parked car at the porch, reclined the seat, and tuned to Light & Easy station. I’m listening to the dropping droplets of rain outside to the tune of the radio. I’m having a whale of a good time to myself, until my heart started to fonder to melody of romance ballad on the air wave. The sound bored into the neck of my neck instead of my ear. With bitterness, blind naivety, and with a shot of guilt for catalyst, the tune set me to the perpetual state of being pissed off. It’s the longest time before the ballad ended.

When they ask me how long
I’m gonna love you
If the road to my heart
Will always stay true
I’ll say forever

You know what Voltaire (1694–1778) the French writer and philosopher said?

The road to the heart is the ear.

I was rarely privy to the lyrics of the song I heard but after the first couple of kicks to my eardrums, it was battered by abomination. I google-ed for the song lyric and the artist and found out that Hall and Oates sang the “Forever for You” song.

But before that, here’s the irony amidst the falling rain outside the car. This tune proceeded just after the said song came into air.

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain
Telling me just what a fool I’ve been
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain
And let me be alone again

[The Cascades – Rhythm of the Rain]

The road to the heart is the ear but I rarely listen to my inner thought, thinking my gut have more nerve ending than the soft tissues inside my cranium. The rain told me just that, what a fool I’ve been. Now I’m cold, chilled to the marrow.

Light & Easy – Continuous Relaxing Favourites…what a mindfuck.

Oh, but she mindfuck me better than this, and that’s a compliment.

That’s actually a monologue, the past 4 years ago.

I’m just being a nostalgic fool.

The drowning man is not troubled by rain.

Closure.

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I lied.

When she asked me the question.

I had enough reflection of you cerebrally. I want to hold the stillness of your embrace.

Close.

Written by cthulhu

February 20, 2009 at 11:44 pm

Social Networking Feud (An Obiter Dictum from a Netizen)

In retrospect, you deleted mine first in the facebook.

Activity in myspace is almost next to nil.

No friendster, no you?

Delete. Delete. Delete.

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Metadata gone.

Memory persist.

What’s the fuss?

Written by cthulhu

December 17, 2007 at 3:07 pm