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New Year’s Eve Musings


31 – December – 2011



I always say that the greatest works of art, the greatest music, great architectural wonders, and, even thoughts that changed the world were all made out of love. Heck, wars were even fought “in the name of love”. I remember last year I said the same thing, thinking of masterpieces and the history behind it, the stories of love that is behind each stroke of the master’s hand. Ending the year and beginning the next one with heart nil of emotion, of love could be a horrendous thought to some but for me it is my present.


Reality bites like a big bad mosquito. Or… a big bad bear… alligator… or scary animal. I lost my Nine West bag (which was my favorite), Cartier wallet, loads of cards, Starbucks 2012 planner, Kenzo Amour perfume (newly bought), Sony point and shoot camera, Asian Hemispheres by Mahbubani book, silver cigarette case (which I had since I started smoking), and a make-up bag full of Lancome cosmetics and make-up brushes. (Apologies to my mom again if ever you are reading this, I know the hard work you do to give me all these beautiful stuff, my bad! I’ll make it up to you!) Yeah. You could say that was a lot but on the same day I lost my bag, my boyfriend and I broke it off. That was the night before Christmas when all should be merry, drunk, laughing and with a stomach-full of Christmas dinner waiting for old St. Nick to drop from the chimney. That night, I was on the phone with my mom crying my heart out, on the phone with my best friends doing the same thing, and I was in my room eating a bagful of chocolates and a tub of ice cream avoiding the urge to watch romantic films or listen to love songs or I would go cuckoo. I know, it sounds very depressing. And it’s New Year’s Eve right now so fast forward a week and I’m getting better bit by bit.


To be honest, on a normal day sans what happened, it would have been a working vacation but what I did was go out in the afternoon and just talk and talk and talk with my friends and cap it off at night with alcohol and parties… not very much like me… not very productive… not very much what I wanted… and not very much what I want to continue doing. I even got myself a tattoo just to prove myself that I am brave enough to do this, to get over the mess soon. This is my dream tattoo since I was a teenager: a G-clef to signify that music is indeed my passion and the flowers to symbolize my allegiance to the arts. So, that was a treat and something to keep me happy while I get my mind off some things. I always get home drunk early in the morning, and I hate how my hair smells of smoke, God knows how much I shampoo and put all my expensive hair gunk on it before I get out. I meet some awesome people, and not-so-awesome ones, and I am telling you… do not meet the not-so-awesome ones when you are depressed because you get more miserable if you do. The awesome people, well, it really takes effort to connect to them, when you’re depressed extra effort could be a big effort. It is exhausting to be in this position. I want to be better.


It takes a great degree of acceptance before you can truly let go. I have to accept my loneliness and sadness. So what I did is accept it. I am alluding on the onset to how great works of art were conceived out of love so I thought of doing my entry for an art festival early next year. I got my entire stuff ready, and I made the foundation for a Mache sculpture which would be covered with mixed media visual art. I have no idea of what the theme is for the festival or maybe I just forgot, but I’ll just work out of that theme and who knows it might win me the title and some cash. It is a labor of love just like how Noah built the white house in Nicholas Spark’s The Notebook or how Mughal emperor Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal. Epic. You know, while I was building the Mache, I thought of how my idols made their magnum opus. There is always a driving force to things. True that negative emotion could be turned into something good. My creative side is alive once more; I don’t want it to be eroded by the foolishness and haze of love. I was in an unkind prison. Oh, and I played the piano a while ago the only difference is that it sounded like notes played on a keyboard – technical, it lacks the emotion, the Chopin-like emotion that I believe should be within every piece of music. So many thoughts tonight, and so many things I have to do to divert these thought into beauty… maybe the real secret to art is real, raw, and innocent feelings, emotions…


I write poems and this blog entry here just to remain true to the whole idea of aesthetic. I am with a big bar of dairy milk Cadbury chocolate, my phone is turned off, my headset is blaring Manilow just so I don’t get to hear the fireworks outside and let all the thoughts flow through my hands tapping on the keyboard and on the computer monitor. What a depressing, sad, old spinster way to spend the new year as some would probably think as they read this but I find joy in this healthy and productive diversion. I am brainchild to pieces that might be great works when I’m dead tonight in just a span of a couple of hours.


I don’t mind eating tonight’s left-over food in the morning.


I just want to be left alone to my thoughts.


I don’t know if I am going to read, study, draw, watch the TV or just cover myself up in my blanket and sleep. Next year when I get up, it would be a fresh new piece of paper to write my story on. Life is the sum of the choices we make and what we make of the present. So on that fresh piece of paper, pristine in its whiteness, I would want to write a good story, make up for the not-so-remarkable things that transpired from 2011.


Great that I own all the time to do the things I want to do.


Maybe 2011 was a year for love.


2012 should be for perfection, ambition, achievement and success.


So, here’s to that sexy achiever, smart-ass, pretty, talented, painfully artistic, workaholic, red-lipsticked girl who would rock 2012.


P.S. If you read this again at the end of the year, it should inspire you to write of what you have accomplished and remind you of the rut you pulled yourself up from.



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