Second star to the right and straight on till morning...

Old House is dying a slow and steady death. To console my heartbreak of facing the inevitable end of the only place I've ever really called home, I've put together a "mood board" of what my dream house should be like. Of course I may well be homeless in a couple of months(!) but as Francois Duc de La Rouchefoucauld once said "Hope, deceitful as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our long lives by an agreeable route."

The idea is to opt for a 'timeless' scheme ie. no modernistic pop art crap for moi! I do so like grey... brown is good too, but falls flat if you favor hardwood furniture (which I do) plus both are fairly easy to maintain in this humidity.

Grow up in a small room sharing a chest of drawers and a small cupboard with your sis and the ultimate mission/ vision takes the form of a beautiful walk-in closet. Please ignore the clothes in the mood board ~ I think I saved a pic of a sharp gay dude's closet! Isn't it divine, though? Clever man... and OMG the bed! (I especially like the one in the middle). To sleep; to dream...

Each bedroom should always have its own bathroom. Big or small, doesn't matter ~ functional, clean and private is key. Share one bathroom with your parents, 3 brothers and a sister till you're 20 to understand the magnitude of having your own bathroom.

My kitchen will be in grey (minimum grease stains heh), small and functional. I prefer separate dining rooms. Keeps the smell of food out of your hair/clothes and adds ambiance to meals, donchathink? 

I like to think I'm a realist in matters that matter. While most people go for 'show' living rooms, I believe that good living rooms, while fabulously purrtty, should also be functional. Yes functional is an investment. No carvy woodsy Last Emperor of China type furniture for me. Nor leather sofas (which sticks to your bum unless you live in London).  My dream living room has comfortable chairs/ sofas matched with easy-to-reach coffee tables (and coasters you pigs haH)

Yes the couch on the far left is definitely a winner! Oh to watch scary movies on that couch with the ashtray but an arms-length away... excellent! And no, I don't watch TV in bed ~ a bedroom should always be a place of rest and respite.

Then there are corners. Too many people waste space either trying to be minimalists, or going the opposite by cramming every nook with junk. Not so in my humble abode. I figure corners are perfect to hang art or read,  in addition of course to my pièce de résistance 

~ a kickass study, complete with killer broadband, awesome computer and piano! (not in picture). "May the roof above us never fall in, And may we good companions beneath it never fall out." ~Irish Blessing

Here's in hope that Old House's roof doesn't fall in on me just yet, and that none of my good companions fall through the floor.

The thought of this dream-home-to-be is somewhat comforting, yet I can't help that my heart still aches for my childhood home; 

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

          ~ Mary Elizabeth Frye

Hide & Seek ~ closet Cobain, super Stinson

A guide for fresh-grad grunge gurus joining the corporate circus ~ I'm not Superman (I don't wear underwear over my pants and I don't fly), nor am I Batman (I don't have an awesome car or a weird same-sex stalker/shadow/sidekick named Robin)..duh! I'm not even a dude! But I do have a secret identity? HaH. Not so much a secret; as more like what my best buds describe as two contrasting images that while seemingly opposite, still manages to, at the same time, be totally me. Not quite Jekyll and Hyde ~ but unusual enough within my circle of beautiful homies for them to wonder W..T.. F..

Imagine this in beige, what hey! it's me on Monday!

 Yes I am a unique (if somewhat melted/muddy) snowflake. Nothing gives my friends more kicks than to analyze my weekday passion for simple Doris Day inspired couture vs. my staple weekend uniform - shorts and t-shirts (most of them under RM20 with wise-ass quotes emblazoned over the chest). I credit this odd partiality of contradicting fashion to the years I spent working as an underpaid but utterly fabulous PR girl for 5-star international hotels. 

 In Uni I spent most of my free time walking. Credit goes to my parents for picking a 1st college about 3KM away from home - that is, close enough for them NOT to drive me to class, far enough for me to maintain my (now gone) figure. Can you do a 20-minute power walk if you're dressed in pretty dresses and cutesy shoes? No fxckin way! Which is why for a better part of 3 years I poured my monthly allowances into jeans, sneakers and smartass tees. This continued during my final year (away from home), where my hostel was 30 minutes and 6 flights of stairs away from the nearest lecture theater. Enter graduation.

Most awesome shoes ever! the All Star converse

What's that? My first job was as a PR Officer for an international 5-star resort. With limited wardrobe and budget, I opted to spend on a few choice pieces in black, grey and brown. That way I managed to mix and match my student tops (the ones without quotes on the chest) into my day job. Over the years, I've developed an affinity for khakis and olives which has somewhat diversified my closet; but not that much.Several of my ex-bosses have called me preppy to my face. Several others (and also the aforementioned same) bosses could never recognise me on my off-day at the mall. Humph.

I am of course, an oldskool soldier at heart. A child of the KorN if you will. The final batch of  GenX. The first batch of GenY. Jules Cobain. And whoever says the grunge goes away as you grow up is lying. Not talking about poser-soldiers here. Those high school/ college friends who were really more into Mariah Carey and  Boyz II Men are now  either happily married with cute little babies and dull 9-5 jobs, or chugging beer in a bar where they, together with other 30-odd-year-old singles, mix happily with hot 25 year-old groupies who squeal when Lady Gaga hits the air. Tsktsk.

A true oldskool soldier (at least the ones I know and love) don't (for lack of a better word) 'disco'. They booze of course (MAN ALIVE can they booze) but they don't dance. Most sit complacently in a dark bar and drink till they feel high enough to leave. They don't do it often, but when they do you know they mean business (literally and figuratively). They enjoy friendly banter. They have a passion for intellectual debates. They strive to analyze life and its meaning. They smoke far too much. They are workaholics. Most pour body and soul into their career / family. 

It's been more than 9 years since I stood on stage to receive that hard-earned (and bloody expensive) piece of paper an anonymous smartass once thought to name "degree". OH poor starry eyed 22 year-old me. How I yearn to warn you of the trials and tribulations that lie ahead (if only  that awesome car from Back To The Future was real) Yet true to the oldskool spirit that beats in the heart of every closet grunge guru playing the role of super corporate junkie by day ~ know this: you'll be okay. 

Do you still exist in this new generation of brats? 

The same rebellious teen who sneakily smoked  behind high school loos but refused to put out to sleazy but hot drummers will against most odds, be the one first to graduate with honors because he/she couldn't be bothered to go clubbing with his/her trendy classmates (why go out to booze when you can do it in your dorm room for 1/4 the price?). And yes you like-minded rebels; if you keep your heads grounded and your stubborn hearts true, you will eventually be a highly paid corporate slave with enough $$ to buy your own beer, pay your own bills and indulge in not one but several original Italian branded blazers besides weekend spa getaways (if you're a chick/gay grunge guru) or kickass wheels. (if you're a macho maestro).  Plan your strategy and play the game.

Throughout the course of my career, the suppressed  oldskool soldier in me argued too hard and too much for too long a time. Most bosses (regardless of how hip or cool they think/say they are) want a "YES" man. Oldskool soldiers have shiteloads of potential. They're thinkers after all - they're the creative ones. The smart ones. Sometimes too smart for their own good. HOLD YOUR TONGUE YOU DOUCHE! Trust me, the moment you stop fighting THE MAN (that's Boss to most of us), your career will move at lightning speed. UP. Because even when they know they're wrong, most bosses won't admit it. To be old and wise, you must first be young and stupid. Save the rebellious teen in you for weekends. Hello wise t-shirt. Bring on the shorts. You may think that Converse  and Adidas beats Hush Puppies and Clarks, but note to to GenZ: it  only works if the fighting ring isn't called THE OFFICE. Don't rock up the hot shite. Your hot shite will  shizzle you to fizzle for sure. 

Know the true fundamentals: 

1. If you must experiment with recreational drugs, make sure it's more experimental than recreational! Many an oldskool soldier has fallen from Wonderland to Neverland because of Lucy and her diamond skies. Hence how (I assume) the cliche of 'loser oldskool' came to be. 
2. Judge lest ye be judged - many an oldskool soldier has made the mistake of thinking they are cooler than those not-so grunge. Wakeup. Who told you the superbrains think you're cool? Whoever said the jocks think you're all that? A true oldskool soldier doesn't pick or choose his/her friends. Btw, most superbrains (not having a penchant for dancing either) will grow up to be awesome oldskool drinking buddies later in life (most of them won't drink while in Uni so quit trying to fxck them up and go down that beer in your own room at your own time) 
3. Finish college. Money talks, bullshit walks. Yes you'll need a job to fuel the artsy soul of yours. The wise t-shirt speaks true "Do what you love, love what you do". Besides if you're busy working, you won't think so much of drinking - a dangerous oldskool soldier trait as most soldiers are drinkers, not clubbers! Which is why it's so much more risky for a soldier to drink (as opposed to say, a jock). The OTHERS (non-soldiers) buy a few drinks and get high on line dancing and looking good. Soldiers don't have the luxury of such distractions. Watch your back.  
4. Keep the dream alive. But not a work. Work at what you're paid to do. If you're paid to air your philosophies on life, music and art ~ fxckin AWESOME. If not then save it for your soldier sisters/brothers/friends/diary/blog. 
5. Never, ever cheapen yourself. Society already thinks of you as a black sheep because you smoke/ drink/ dress like a skater/ rockstar. Be yourself, and don't compromise by falling into the trap of thinking you're standing up to the system by doing the 'rest of it'. If you do then you are like many a fallen soldier - all you're doing is living up to society's low expectations and being the reason why a cliche becomes a cliche. This goes to the boys too. Don't be a man-whore! Oldskool should be about strong philosophies, music with lyrics and art (albeit  sometimes alcohol and cannabis induced) views and perceptions.

Shock society and come out on top. Be the underdog who throws out his/her winning  poker hand over snobby socialites, jocks and dorks. Children of the KorN were born to be leaders. Win it like you live it - laid back but not easy. In more ways than one ;) And when you're the boss, you'll be the best boss ever. Because you stand for equality, fairness and I-don't-give-a-flying-fxck. .... But that's another theory for another day.

Planet Telex, Catching Rainbows

Have been exceptionally tired this week. Overwrought, overworked, overate. Not good. Then it rained.

Not everybody loves the rain. My parents don't. My brothers & sister don't. Most of my friends don't. But as far back as I can remember, the sound, smell and feel of a thundering storm to me has had a calming effect not unlike that experienced when hearing Frank Sinatra belt out White Christmas a week before Christmas (by the by, a carol heard after Christmas to me is sad). So I'm still tired, but no longer down. I'm not magic. I'm no Laurana from Men In Black II (wish I was a Zarthan though, how cool would that be?). It rains when she's sad. Me? I'm happy when it rains.

Clouds gathering, on my way home from work

Instant car-wash! at the traffic light 5 minutes later

Sadly I'm susceptible to rain-induced fevers & colds. Besides splashing through puddles without an umbrella (a special activity I reserve for drain-sweeping and holidays), my favourite rainy day activities are:

Bumming around in my room, dissing Susan frm DH (with coffee of course)

and if I'm at my parents' place,

snoozing here.

"And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow." - G. K. Chesterton

"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby." - Langston Hughes

"Don't take your toys inside just because it's raining." - Cher

"Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky." - Rabindranath Tagore

Saving Grace ~ coffeespoons & afternoons

No I've never been cheated on (not to my knowledge in the traditional bf/gf sense anyway heh). In a non-traditional sense? Well of course. I mean, haven't we all, on numerous occasions, been 'cheated' by those we love/trust? Parents, brothers, sisters, friends, bosses, colleagues, teachers etc. etc. You've never? Then I can only surmise that YOU LIE!

Did your parents ever tell you you'd grow up purrtty? (btw if you're thinking "but they did and I am" then you're a narcissistic jerk - stop reading my blog). Remember your teacher telling you you'd need physical ed. to get into college? (that's time we'll never EVER get back!) Friends telling you you look good in orange? (THEY LIE!) Bosses telling you you'll get that raise, "Keep it up!" (stinking icing on a burnt cake that). Ooo got a good one; Have you ever waited for your Dad to pick you up HOURS after everyone else had gone home? (HURTS DOESN'T IT?)

So what's one to do? Live with your reflection. Screw gym & work on your maths. Don't wear orange. Switch jobs. And LEARN TO USE THE FXCKIN BUS.

Yeah sometimes I have trust issues. Can you blame me? But I think my philosophy here is pretty straight up ~ a wise T-shirt once told me "If someone you love hurts you, cry a river, build a bridge and get over it". A song a week keeps away the shrink ~ this week's flavor just happens to be: