It just had to happen, doesn't it? I've found myself rushing to my PC, anxiously checking for your e-mails, for any contact whatsoever from you. It's taken a lot to keep from picking up the phone, from calling you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice. I sometimes wonder if maybe something has happened to you whenever I don't hear from you. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could have been kidnapped by gypsies who fancied the way your hair shone in the sunlight. And still, nothing comes. And I get used to it. My heart stops speeding up whenever I check the post. I start to miss you less, to stop thinking about you and what you're doing at that point in time. I begin to wonder - about other things, other people. And then, one day, something arrives. A short note of less than a hundred words. But still enough to make the cycle begin anew. And I'm looking through the post everyday again. For you.

I wish I knew how it felt like to be you. How you can go around so seemingly casual and hedonistic and yet not care about... morals... or I guess, what I'd term "the state of your immortal soul." I'm not condemning you. In fact, I wish I could be you. Life would definitely be more interesting. And I know I'd enjoy the sex - as long as the guy's good. You should know. You taught me that. But no matter how much I try, I can't seem to keep my heart out of my deeds - I care about how my parents would react. I care about how God is judging me. I care about what society thinks. Or more specifically, what my society thinks. Sometimes, I think that the main reason why I want to live in a different city, a different country, is because it would be so easy to lose myself in a whole different place. To just drown in the filthy temptation of it all.

Is it so wrong to want to enjoy the life I'm living now rather than care about the one after it?

Erk. Went to ZoukOut, the regional dance music festival extraganza, yesterday - primarily because Sasha was playing. Unfortunately, I also had the flu so I couldn't enjoy myself as much as I might have if I were well. Maybe it was my sickness, or the medication I had taken, but the alcoholic drinks just made me feel worse, which was bad because despite the quality of Sasha as a producer and remixer, his DJ sets aren't spectacular. He tends to play a rather eclectic set, going from progressive to breaks back to progressive, slowing the beats down until it's difficult for someone like me to dance. I can appreciate his skill in moving from one tune to another seamlessly despite the two being so dissimilar that you wouldn't ordinarily think that those tunes went together. I just can't seem to enjoy the beginning of his sets - or the first two hours of all of his sets which I've been to so far. The third hour, he started playing some really good tunes - melodious and high energy, but I had to leave as my ride was leaving and I started feeling sicker. I would have stayed if I were well because I really did like the direction his set was taking at the beginning of the third hour.

And I'm torn now - as to whether I should have stayed or whether it was better for me to have left! I mean, he played Xpander to close off his set - and I absolutely love Xpander. I would kill to hear it played live. And he played it this morning at just before 5 am! At one of the few places in my country which is close to the urban landscape, nature and water at the same time! On the other hand, the cab queue was terribly long so if I had stayed, I'd most likely would have had to wait over an hour to get home. And I do feel worse today - I'm coughing like I've been smoking heavily for my whole entire life.

But... he played Xpander! If I heard that, this whole week would have gone by with me floating on a cloud! That's how strong an effect music has on me. I mean, for last week's set, I was still on a high on Monday and Tuesday! Imagine what Sasha would have done for me if I could have stayed... Why, Sasha? Why can't you ever play a set in which I enjoy myself entirely???! Van Dyk can! Digweed can! Why can't you??? And why must you always play Xpander when I'm not around?? It just means that you won't play it the next time since it'll have been overplayed... *sigh* It'll have to be a really special occasion for you to play it again.

Uh oh. I think I'm headed for trouble. I may be starting to like a friend. And not just any friend, but a friend who's attached to another friend. It doesn't matter that they're going to be splitting up soon. It's just that there're rules about these sort of things. You can't go out with a friend's ex, no matter how hot you find the guy - unless the friend gives her blessing. But how on earth will you know whether she's willing to even consider you going out with her ex - without causing any damage to your friendship? And what's the relationship moratarium anyway? Surely not one month. That's simply too short. But is it three? Six? A year? How long should you wait? How long can you wait?

Watched City of God today. Amazing show. Funny but poignant as well - and all the more so when I realised that it was based on a true story. Spoilers will litter this review, so unless you're the kind of person where knowing what's going to happen will not lessen your enjoyment of the show, don't read!

City of God is a Brazilian movie, entirely in Portuguese (which is strangely dissimilar to Spanish). The narrator, Rocket, grew up in the slums, surrounded by hoodlums and gun violence. Starting from his childhood, he relates the tale of Lil' Dice, a gangster under the age of ten and how his ideas led to him taking over the city, growing up to become Lil' Ze, ruler over most of the city and its drug dealings. Along the way, other people's stories are also related - Shaggy, the teenage hoodlum who trusted in Lil' Dice when other teens belittled him, and who eventually tried to escape from his life of crime when he fell in love, but failed and paid with his life. Goose, Lil' Dice's best friend and right-hand man, who became the city's coolest hoodlum after undergoing a makeover to become a playboy, and who kept the peace between Lil' Ze and Carrot, the only other gangleader in town, though with much smaller numbers. KnockOut Ned, the peace-loving bus-conductor who eventually became Lil' Ze's nemesis and led to the former's downfall.

It's all related in a rather MTV-like style. Scenes are frozen and the story suddenly diverts into another person's tale, if the time is right for us to hear it. The pacing is very fast as well. Things just happen so quickly, that you're swept up by all the events in the movie, leaving you with no time to think. There are terribly funny moments, such as when Benny is chasing after a drug addict, and you learn later on that it's not because he wants revenge or just to murder him. Rather, he wants to be like the drug addict - with his cool clothes and hairstyle. There's another one where we see Rocket "flirting with crime" where he tries to earn money by doing it the traditional way - but he can't because all his chosen victims (KnockOut Ned, a pretty girl and a marijuana-smoking driver) are too cool that they don't deserve to be held up. There are tender moments as well - such as the relationship between Rocket and his brother, another hoodlum. And as mentioned earlier, sad ones too. The sight of kids killing kids, and all the senseless violence does get to you despite the light-hearted manner in which the narrator is presenting it. The scene that got to me the most was the one where Lil' Ze forces one of his kid gang members, Steak, to kill a rival kid gang member. Steak looks sick to his stomach having to do so, with his victims crying their eyes out. It's a harsh and brutal scene.

All in all, I did enjoy the movie. I don't think I'll watch it again anytime soon though. It is a little depressing, but once I recover from that, I'll probably be able to watch it again - the funny parts are terribly funny after all.

You know how some times your life's just going on as it usually does, and you've come to a decision - not a life changing one, but just a decision - like how you've decided that you're not going to give into temptation and sack out on the couch after work anymore, and then all of a sudden, you find out there's a CSI marathon the next day and you simply have to watch it? (I'm using an analogy, by the way, it's just better to articulate my thoughts.) There are times when it feels like my life is a series of moments in which someone is watching and just mocking me by taunting me right after I've made decisions - like how there are times when there are say, no guys in my life whatsoever, and then, in the next instant (or two months later), there's more than one guy that you like - and you need to make a decision quickly!

Hey P. You probably won't be reading this. You're probably having a fantastic time on the beaches of Greece or Italy right now. I just wanted to say - you were right about me. I am mature - maybe even overly mature, if there's such a thing - for my age in a fair number of ways except in the field of love and intimacy - physical and otherwise. And perhaps, because of that, I'm scared of it. I'm scared to be attached in my own country, not sure of what it is I want in a relationship, or how far I'd go. Or maybe it's the other way round. Because of my inexperience, I'm scared - as to what's expected of me and how I should be behaving. One feeds into the other, quite obviously. I don't want to be committed to anything right now at my age and at this stage in my career, but at the same time, I'm not the kind of person who can leave her heart at the door when entering into the flirting and flinging game. I wish I had that ability - to behave like a guy when it came to affairs of the heart, instead of taking everything so seriously. On the dancefloor, I can do anything. Off it - almost everything seems impossible.

But at the same time, do I really want to be the kind of person who doesn't care at all about the possible havoc she could be wreaking and the hearts that she's breaking? I don't know. Maybe if I weren't in the country I call home, it wouldn't matter so much. Things are different back where I come from. (Oh, how often have I said that...) Rules are meant to be followed. People are not meant to be involved in casual relationships - the guys here aren't equipped for it. They take everything so seriously. Agreeing to see a movie with a guy along seems to mean that you are interested in the guy. Dancing with a guy means that you're attached to him. Having dinner - you're in love. Why can't you guys get it? Sometimes, we're just being nice. Sometimes, we're just being friendly. It doesn't always mean we're interested.

Or rather, why is it the ones who we're not interested in always assume we are? And the ones we like are just so darn oblivious?

Wow. This turned into quite a social commentary. I don't think I intended it to be, but these feelings have been festering for a while.

There are days when I get weak. When I find myself desperately wishing that I had a guy who loved me to go home to. To have someone who makes me realise what all those love songs are for, who'd sing those songs to me. To have someone as that one constant in my life that is right when everything else just seems so uncertain. To have someone who'd hold me and tell me that it's all right for me to be the person that I am, that I don't need to be perfect, that I'm perfect just the way I am - that I'm sexy, beautiful, smart, brilliant, wonderful, passionate and much much more.

Where are you?

Do you even exist?

Went to the other local superclub yesterday night to see local DJ Yukun's set. I've only seen him once before but I was blown away by his set during that occasion - much better than Sasha's set on Christmas Eve over here! Anyway, it was also a fellow clubber's farewell so I had gone down to see him get drunk :) Another clubber was handing out lightsticks just to set the atmosphere, and while I accepted one (a red one to go with my hair), I was really embarrassed to be dancing with them because there were so few people dancing with lightsticks in the first place! Also because I kept dropping them whenever my hand bumped into anything...

I had also dragged a friend along, a friend who I hadn't seen in a year or so, and spent much of the night and morning catching up with him. He's a really nice guy, not bad looking, but has these fairly large intense eyes, which kind of make me uncomfortable if I look into them for too long. Anyway, he's a great dancer - nice when we had dancing 'competitions' (in which both parties kind of try to outdance each other, but really, there are no losers) - and I'm fairly certain we caused some scandals. It's been a long time since I'd danced closely with anyone (of which, there are only three - an ex and two good friends, including the one being mentioned in this entry). Also, I'd forgotten how good it felt just to have strong, comforting, masculine arms around me, you know? It was nice just to close my eyes, lean into his arms and dance, just feeling safe and cared for.

Back to the music. Yukun played a fantastic set, which included among other great tunes, Paul van Dyk's Nothing But You and Lustral's Everytime. And for the encore, he pulled out Andain's Beautiful Things (Gabriel & Dresden Remix). Now that was a fun song to go crazy too. There were alternating sessions of me dancing wildly, jumping up and down madly, and just grooving it on with my friend.

All in all, a great night - music-wise and happiness-wise.

Ever since I've had my hair coloured, I've been happier. I wonder why that's so. Why is my happiness and mood so contingent upon my physical appearance? If that's true, that would seem to suggest that I'm shallow, unable to see past my normal self and be the brave, confident, cheerful girl that has emerged a few days ago. Yet, I don't think any differently. I just... talk a little differently, and smile more. How can those small changes have such a huge effect?

I'm an avid reader of one of my friend's blogs because she is quite simply, an amazing writer. She somehow manages to convey everything that you've ever thought of, as well as many hilarious things which you hadn't noticed, so eloquently and succintly into her weekly entries. I often find myself being jealous of her - of her talent in writing and being interesting, and of her friends - she has these incredibly nice friends who she adores and who adore her in return, and a terribly romantic (in a non-mushy way) boyfriend. I wish I were like her - she's smart, funny and can argue anyone into the ground, and she has people around who love her.

Caught a great a capella concert by the Akatones yesterday. I very much enjoy a capella performances, but didn't know whether local groups could cut the mustard. Well, this one certainly did! The human beatbox was fantastic, even better than having a DJ on stage adding, mixing and scratching - he was that good. The lead was good too, without sounding over-the-top, although it could so easily have gone all Mariah-Carey-wrong since his voice was powerful. Great stuff.

Bad e-mail ettiquette.

That's something I despise. I wasn't sure exactly what it was before, but after discussions with a friend who had encountered the same sort of thing from our mutual friends, I finally have a term to put to it.

It's just plain rude to not reply to a personal e-mail, especially a heartfelt one written to you by a friend. And yes, I've had that happen to me - with good friends and with acquaintances who used to be good friends. I've written e-mails fraught with emotion, stuff which I wouldn't usually say, things which I've kept inside and have been quietly percolating away. And I do get angry and peeved when it becomes a habit with people to simply not reply. I'm busy too, but whenever I get an e-mail - especially an e-mail from a friend requesting for help, advice or a just a plain ol' listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, I do reply!

So what is it with you folks that we're still good friends? Are we? We're still friends, no doubt, but I'm f***ing p***ed off with you guys. Even a three word reply would be enough, you know? Just a little something that says "I'm here for you" or even "I hear ya, buddy."

A recent study on alcoholism found that when people were tired, their ability to resist temptation was adversely affected.

Explains my behaviour in the last year of university since I do recall being knackered for a substantial part of it!

An amusing comment on online music piracy from The Guardian:

The implication seems to be that unless downloading ceases immediately, by this time next year the members of Coldplay will be huddled by a roadside somewhere, their shivering fingers pathetically clutching cardboard signs that read "will play intelligent yet slightly melancholy alt-rock for food".

- Alexis Petridis, Let the Playground Pirates Rule

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the Dancing Queen

- Abba, Dancing Queen

No matter how often that song is played, it never fails to get me off the chairs and onto the floor (assuming I'm not on it already!).

Sometimes, I just like to surprise people by doing something different, something unexpected. I strike people as being rather conservative - or at least, I used to - and so, sometimes, it's easy to surprise others.

Other times, I play it very safe - or safe in my own way. I walked home alone from clubbing the other night at 3.55am and was scolded by my parents for that. For good reason, I suppose; my country's the second-safest country in the world and yet, just the other day, someone managed to assault a woman sexually in one of the national parks. Despite the fact that I've been through far worse cities - London, Rome, Florence, Paris - and by myself at that, I wasn't that disturbed when I was in those cities. Why I'm kind of affected by this incident is because my city is supposed to be very safe, so safe that you don't need to worry, to take precautions. And it was comforting to not be distracted by worrying about one's safety. Now, the mood has changed.

At the same time, I do wonder that if by playing safe all the time, and not going out by myself at night, whether I'd be missing out on things. An artist once invited me out for a drink at the local bar in Mallorca, but I declined as I was afraid of being with him in a strange place where I didn't speak the language. In Florence, I declined another artist's invitation to his studio where he wanted to sketch me. Yes, I do regret turning down both invitations and I do wonder how much I've missed out on by my decision to err on the side of caution both times. Better be safe than sorry, so the saying goes. But that does makes life rather dull and boring, doesn't it?

Humourous bits from work - but be warned that these fall under the you had to be there category of humour:

Boss: Handsome boy! Why are you always so handsome?
Said guy: Can't help it. It's in the genes. I didn't want it, but it couldn't be helped.

Veteran company trainer: Many things have happened in our [offices]. There was a time an old man died [there]. That was a long time ago when I could still take that sort of thing.

Insurance agent: For a disability pay-out, you need to lose both legs or both arms or one leg and one arm, or one leg, one arm and an eye. So if you lose an arm and an eye, you don't get the pay-out.
Colleague: Better to die.

Same insurance agent: You need to take care of your spouse, your children and aged parents. For example, I have to take care of my wife and my son. Luckily for me, my mother and father are both dead.