he's sick!

ive got a cold sore. im trying to hide it. its actually not that bad.
feels like a while since i last wrote here. a lot has happened, but ive forgotten the essential details.

the elementries...
enjoyed slumdog millionaire. hated baise moi. finished film photos with mothers canon ae1. ripped half the film. felt like shit. memories erased. tried a pret swedish hot meatball wrap, pleasantly amazed. had french lesson, hated some fellow students for having perfect pronounciation, they sounded stuck up. its the accent, i think. spent time with international buddies!

i saw live coverage of Barack HUSSEIN! Obama live on tv announcing the ending of Guantanamo Bay. his live unprepared speech did not brim with confidence. its seemed like a alot of guesswork lined his statements. the more i listened to him, the more i think he is a celebrity. it shows, people who had zero interest and knowledge in politics are suddenly opinionated and arguing the fact of how great he is. yes, its great having change, and metaphorically a black president shows how dramatic peoples acceptance has evolved positively. HOWEVER i cringe at the fact people are paraising him purely because of his race.

"i bought the Obama book, hes sick!"

politically educated.

what i have downloaded today:
howling bells
white lies
franz ferdinand
empire of the sun.

im too tired to write anymore. tonight was amazing. the idiosyncrysies were imperfect perfections.

weekend most productive in a long period. faces reseen. button reset. time can pass once more.
hung out with work colleagues that i didn't think would be possible to be sociable with. brandy helped me. wine helped them.
hung out with new people. wish old people were there as well.
loved he way we have evolved. hate the way things have changed.

felt guilty. felt happy. felt confident. felt shy. felt tired. felt nervous. felt shy.

im starting to turn into a freak, every time im in an "alone" situation, i feel twitchy when there seems to be some kind of pressure for me to say the right thing. my head starts shaking, mini vibrations. then i make an excuse to say that i am cold, and do a bigger shake to mask it all.

she was sitting to right of me. so we was all conversing. then languages apart from mine was exchanged. assured and convincing expressions were shared between them. i sensed disappointment, but i didn't want to show it. so i just looked down and played with my mobile.
they were all leaving. i wasn't going to sit solo. but i still had my drink, they still had theirs. i was clinging onto the unfinished drinks as a reason to prolong the exit. i reluctantly prepared myself to leave with them.
she faced me, "do you want to stay for one more drink?"
excited within i agreed with an ambiguous response, "i don't mind, yeah, whatever".
everyone said goodbye, they will be creating gossip on the way home.
we sat closer. her body faced mine. feet aimed directly in my direction. she was on my right hand side. i sat looking towards her when she talked. my head laying on my left arm. we barely changed positions.
why is she still here? this must be a good sign. then she tapped my hand to tell me a story. we touched for like one second. the feeling dissolved much later.

home time. feelings still held within.

some things i noticed that i liked about her:

she understand sarcasm. a lot.
she paints her fingernails red.
she has MANY idiosyncrasies.
she is open to suggestions.
she moves her hands expressing herself often.
she cannot stand still, she balances crooked on one leg.
she asked if i was ok a few times, when i met her friends.
she laughs overtly.
shes not afraid of the camera.
she recognised the libertines.

when will it happen?!!?!?

something i couldnt get out of my head, snahs script:

Scene 6

EXT. QUIET SURBURN ROAD. DAY

Its dark and you can only hear the voices of two guys arguing. There is a sudden flash of light and slowly revealed is Ahmed’s father and uncle looming over a skip.

Father

“Ok so you grab onto one end and ill grab onto the other and we will lift it out together”

Uncle

“I thought you said it was right outside your house, how we suppose to get this back exactly ”

Father

“Look will you stop moaning and hurry up”

The two men lean over and both pick a corner of the table and lift it out of the skip. The desk is big and the two men seem to struggle lifting the desk over the skip and onto the side pavement. They place the desk on the sidewalk.

Uncle

“Now what?”

Father

“Come on son, get in there and get the chair”

The boy looks reluctant and stays on the sidewalk examining the desk.

Father

“Quick now we haven’t got all day, we need to carry this thing back”

Uncle

“Oh I knew we are going to end up having to walk miles carrying this damn thing, you are out of your mind”

Uncle- looking towards Ahmed

“Hey how much does a desk cost. I’ll pay for it and we can leave this old man to do this himself”

Uncle winks at Ahmed

Father- also addressing Ahmed

“Your uncle knows you have the desk now so he offers to buy you one. He wasn’t so quick to come up with this suggestion yesterday.”

Father

“Right come on, lift it. Lets go”

Cut

The three of them are shown making there way through London. The uncle and the Father carry the desk whilst the boy drags the table behind them. The Father and Uncle are in constant conversation and the boy is weary of the onlookers as the two argue. The voices are not heard as it is drowned down by the noises on the street.

Something else i couldn’t get out of my head:
Elena: i am really interested in you... me: so did you work today? Should i think more about Elena? Or more about how i am inept at handling compliments?

Im waiting for a number of things to kick start at the moment. Motivation to transfer money to George. even though it will take me 2 minutes.

motivation to actually enroll in a language course.

motivation to unravel my relationship status and decide what i want. actually i think i know what i want. but i just want too many things. i think i do (now what i want).

i feel old.

mid mid life i guess. shouldn't i feel like getting married soon?

i saw Angela yesterday and it hit me in how far behind i am in the rat race for maturity. shes going on maternity leave. i don't even know how to apply for it!

today, i was so tired that i actually slept the whole journey on the train. i woke up the stop before to twitch and get up, only to realise that it wasn't my destination. then i realised how incoherent i was to the outside world at the moment. hard habit to kick. (metaphor or simile?)

How hard to face things.

happy significances:
getting a free latte from pret.
finding another space invader.
my brother listening to kings of leon.
Justyna appreciating libertines.
Yanyan texting out the blue.
not having the TV on for three days now.
long awaited bath awaiting for me. awaiting. awaiting. prolonging.

muSICK!:
yeah yeah yeahs.
libertines.
metronomy.
white stripes.
downloadingtalkingheads.

and this, standard!...

ihatemyparents.

Whats happening?

Well this is my continuing attempt to keep a blog, or would the way I’m using be called a “diary”?
I’ve never kept a written diary, although my parents always encouraged me when I was small. But then I found out that they would read it and punish me for things I said. Things such as “I hate my parents”. Why punish me?
So I stopped.
Recently I found out they also delved into my younger brother’s diary. I had to force myself not flick through it.
It was quite sad. “Agor (brother, in a Chinese pronunciation) is arguing again with mum and dad. Wow. I made so many people sad.

Reason I’m doing this, is basically, I want to use this tool to preserve my brain in conjunction with a million other devices. Well, not a million… just several.
Anyway, I hope I give more dedication to this one. And I hope I won’t hate anyone. That would be hard. Or not. I wouldn’t want to hate anyone. If I did, it would be temporal.

Where do I start for today?
Work was fine, as always. The day was mostly spent on monitoring the minimise button on the slow and ever popular internet explorer (work is not so updated); in case my manager spots me on Facebook.

Actually there was a funny encounter with David Macia, a client who helped me sort out tickets for the National Portrait Gallery. To cut a long story short, he worked at the National Gallery. I blame his Spanish!
He gave me tickets to the Renaissance exhibition the weekend preceded, but I was assuming they were Annie Libeovitz tickets. Oh well, I ticket touted them.
He decided to come in today to have a chat and asked how the exhibition was. Panicking I though that I would lie and tell him how great it was, and then I panicked again, and told another lie instead. My friend, Justyna, had already seen it.
I suppose it wasn’t a FULL lie, as I was half telling the truth. She mentioned that she didn’t like Renaissance, so I assumed that she has seen some of it before. So I guess I get away with technicality!
David is gay. He has lots of feminine behaviour, in his thirties, waves his finger around a lot, and uses his eyebrows to express himself. I looked in his bank account; a lot of evidence. He’s cool!
I asked for his email address or Facebook, because I think I can take advantage of him, and he can take advantage of me. Not for a gay relationship. This attitude may have come across as genuine to him. I was worried.
What made it worse was that I was on my lunch and sitting on my desk listening to my ipod, and he surprised me by walking in at 10 paces a second. And he said hello, so to be polite, I intended to remove my earphones to have a conversation with him. Instead I removed my glasses. Not again. It is my new “surprise” impulse behaviour. So I looked like I was nervous in front of him.
Not that gay people are nervous. I mean, it not a singular characteristic which can define them as gay.
He went. I finished my ipod.

Came home spent hours on msn with Justyna. This has been a daily happening for the past two weeks, regardless of plans. Always end up virtual dialogue.
We talked about shit as always, meaningless playful disagreements and accusations. Its not always mini shit, we walked good shit as well.
She kept trying to thank me for helping her do her coursework. I secretly like getting thanked, but I hate to hear it. I didn’t want to be stuck in that corner, so I changed subject.
We talked about music for hours and shared cheesy links on YouTube. I never knew how much good cheese I liked from the 80’s. And I thought It was quite cool that she was from Poland and knew all these classics!
I need to make a song list for a cd I made her. I'm glad that she liked it. I thought she was just being polite, but she wasn’t. She asked me not to forget. This was nice.

The msn was after which I spoke to her on the phone, which was the first time that we communicated in conversation through this channel. I hate the first steps with people in talking over telephone. I always get paranoid that I'm staying too long on the phone, or that I'm not saying enough. Every time we changed subject on the phone; I felt the split second silence and was wondering if she felt it as well. But she carried the conversation, even though I really wanted to bear the weight, but I froze. Half hour. Msn after.

Today I have also decided to sign up to a photography showing off forum. Polaloid. I started editing some pictures, and then I got lazy because I couldn’t multi-task anymore. And plus my motivation went, when my mother bought me yoghurt. How sweet. Both.

What I contributed to trade:
Pret latte, £1.85.
M&S jam biscuit sandwiches, £0.83 (BOGOF).
Post it notes, free from work.

What was in my ears:
Radiohead.
Red Hot Chilli Peppers.
White Lies.
Portishead.
Depeche Mode.
Gary Newman.
Yes.
New Order.
Joy Division.
De La Soul.
Timbaland.
NERD.
Marvin Gaye.
Otis Redding.
Etta James.
The Supremes.
Donna Summer.
Chicago.
Sophie Ellis Bexter.
Moloko.