Mirage

A poem I wrote after I woke up in the middle of the night because I felt sick.
The physical discomfort stirred things up in my mind.

I must be either having a dream or seeing hallucinations, or simply missing somebody too much.
This is my way of saying 'I wish you were here next to me. I need you'.

This poem is for the people I dream about.

-------

Mirage

The chill of the night,
the absence of light,
leave my head pounding,
cheeks burning
and a fever I can't fight.

Under the moonbeam I see,
you standing in the shade.
Do you come to be with me?
Or in the next moment away you'll fade?

Are you a ghost or a phantom;
that falling leaf
I try to catch in autumn?

The burn in my throat so unbearable,
I utter words so soft almost inaudible.
I hear myself say
'dear, love, please stay.'

There you are walking towards me.
Your palms against my cheeks,
as if I am rare and dear.
A kiss planted on my forehead,
with tenderness you whisper,
'hush, for I am here.
Time to go to bed.'

No longer do I fight,
my flight in the night,
with lightness like a kite.

The night swallows me
and then she spits me out.
Over a cup of tea,
I ask myself,
'what was it all about?'

This is nothing but a dream,
just a beautiful mirage it seems.

-------------
Dear readers,
Ever had a similar dream-or-reality experience?
I hope you like my poem.
Time to go to bed.
Sleep tight and sweet dreams, everyone.

Love,
N

Skylark and its Saudade

Note to readers:
I wrote a more fiction-like post, basically a short story, which talks about more or less the same thing this post does.

But it was written in a much more emotional way and I certainly added some imagination to it, making it a bit more sensuous, in a sense.
It is partly imagined, partly inspired and partly real.
I named the story 'Skylark and its Saudade'.

But since I wrote it with inspirations from my recent night out and memories from my favourite jazz bar  which just did its final gig before temporarily closing for renovation (thank god it's jus temporary!), I'm afraid the story is too fine a blend of imagination and real life incidents that would only confuse some of my readers.
So in order to prevent that, I'd rather not post it, at least for now.
For your information, I already wrote a disclaimer on the story which says: 'Any resemblance may not be coincidental'.

So before I'm ready to post of my fictional post, I give you this version of 'Skylark and its Saudade':

Skylark and its Saudade

Music is a language of emotions and memories.
A familiar song always have the magic power to time-travel me back to certain special moments, good or bad.

I seem to have this eternal weakness.
Whenever the restaurant plays a familiar tune or the bar plays some particular songs that give me dejavu, I'm always paralyzed with nostalgia and emotions.


There is something ineluctably seductive and addictive about jazz.
Jazz does things to me--makes me sway, makes me smile, makes me melancholy with nostalgia, soothes my sadness and also turns me on.
It always send a tinge of electricity to my ears and down my spine, awakens every cell in me and melts me at the same time.
Then leaves my body very slightly trembling, with a flicker of lust that linger on the ends of my hair and fingertips.


As the notes flow as deluge into my ears and hit my eardrums, an orchestra of synapses in my brain starts to play.
Then in a sudden snap of synapse, certain things, lines and words, random conversations just start echoing in my head.
Flashbacks of memories begin to flood me and cascade over me an avalanche of emotions.
Again. For the 236th time I guess.
And I go paralyzed for the rest of the day, or even days.

Sometimes music works the other way, when I feel terrible and in a split second when a tune, say a Jason Mraz song, hit my eardrums, serotonin level is back to normal and I'm in delight.

I guess I'm just an avalanche of emotions masqueraded under the shape of a woman.
Hey, I'm just a woman.


One thing I wanna say is that: I feel lucky as my most recent experience where music brings flashbacks of moments in my eyes, those were all precious happy memories that only put a smile on my face.

Thank you for all the pleasant memories.
And I'm glad that certain songs can bring back those memories as pleasant little surprises to warms my heart.

Love,
N

Note: in case anyone get curious, 'saudade' is not English, it's a Portuguese word.
Somehow, I don't quite like the English word 'nostalgia', so I always want to avoid it.
I wanted to use the Welsh word 'hiraeth' in replace of it, but I found the Portuguese word 'saudade' a better match to what I want to express.
And for alliteration purpose, it seems a better word to use for the title too.

Deeply Superficial

Quiz time: who said the following ?
1) 'I am a deeply superficial person.'
2) 'Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art.'
3) 'Everybody will be famous for 15 minutes.'

No idea?
Big hint: The same person who created these art pieces.

Went to the Art Museum for Andy Warhol's exhibition two weeks ago, with my dad.

I'm not particularly into pop art. 

Yes, it is bright, colorful, and often has a sense of humor. 

But sometimes, its sense of humor is in a way...weirdly creepy.

Plastic-y, fake, thick and sticky paint, glossy material...sort of reminds me of a crazy clown that entertains you and then all of a sudden turns into an insane serial killer chasing after you with a knife.

Some of Andy Warhol's works still give me this killer-clown feeling.

But still, the exhibition is quite a delight.

I'm not particularly fascinated by his famous works Marilyn Monroe, Mao Zedong, Cow and the Campbell Soup Can series.

They are nice but they don't make me wow.

On the contrary, his earlier works are much more interesting--they are very adorable.

Too bad the exhibition does not showcase a lot of those works, but we have the Internet. :)

His works from the late 1950s are so adorable that I could imagine sharing his illustrations with children and making them smile.

Little girls would love these painting.

I'm no longer a litter girl but they are so cute that I wish I could be able to draw like that.
If I could draw such cute and sweet things, I would doodle a lot and draw these for people I love.

Basket of Flowers 1958

Butterfly Layered Cake 1959

Some of the works in '25 Cats Named Sam and One Blue Pussy'

Ice Cream Dessert 1959 

So Happy 1958

A Gold Book 1957

Lips

Aren't they lovely? :)

Other than these sweet illustrations, his nature and animal themed paintings are also my cup of tea.

I guess it has to be with my inner wild child.

Flower for Tocama Dome 1982

Kiku 1983

African Elephant 1983 

Grevvy's Zebra 1983

Cat 1976
(What a pretty kitty! J'adore!)

I was surprised that he did a portrait for Hedy Lamarr.

She was such a beauty. I think she is one of the prettiest women, like Grace Kelly.

But she was so much more than just a pretty face, she was also a very intelligent woman who contributed to our modern technology.

Um...I should write a featured post on her.

Last piece of Andy Warhol's work that I want to share with you---Male Fashion Figure 1960.

I really like the fine details on the fabric part, really resembles the texture of fabric.

My dad seemed to like the bright colours and the playfulness of pop art.

It was a delight that I went to the exhibition with him.

We both enjoyed the relaxing afternoon. 

After the exhibition, I want something. Two things actually.

No no, not two pieces of his art.

I want:

1) A colouring book featuring his work. Would be very fun to re-interpret his works with different combination of colors

2) A day for an art date with my friends creating art that is Andy Warhol or pop art inspired. Would be so fun! 

Dear readers,

Do you like pop art?

Love,

N

A Night with Poems

Dear readers, what have you been reading lately?
Moi? 
Recently, I don't seem to get the pleasure I usually get from reading.
Have been either reading non-fictions which have something to do with psychology or politics, or fictions which are heavy and only add to my melancholy.

Time for me to go back to poetry.
Poems I typically read are rather short ones.
Yet length certainly doesn't mean poems are light reads.
Short but expressive, play of words and let my imagination runs wild----reasons why I love poetry.

These long quiet nights appear to be the perfect time (when actually anytime could be good) for me to dig out a few poems and enjoy the simple pleasure they bring me.
Make myself a cup of tea, dim the lights a bit, tug in bed, good reads----simple pleasure.
I like the aroma of tea in the air.
Interestingly, a cup of tea before bed has nothing to do with the quality of sleep.
Caffeine is only at the service of my moods; I fall asleep anyway if my mind gives me a break. And if it doesn't, even sleeping pills lose their effect.

Not that I know about many poets and their poems, but there is a certain (type of) poet that I particularly dislike----Xu Zhimo (徐志摩).
I do like Chinese poems as the language itself is poetic and beautiful.
The complexity of the language itself means a single character can carry with it sophisticated or even layers of meanings.
Xu Zhimo is so famous with his poems about Cambridge as well as his romantic love poems.
But it is exactly his 'romantic' love poems that I detest. Or maybe it's his style that repels me.
So exaggerated and so explicit that it is almost vulgar and tawdry to me.

Anyway, I am not a bluestocking nor am I a literary critic, so I'm not giving any more comments.

Dear readers,
Do you have poets or poems that you particularly like? Or do you sometimes write your own poems?
I sometimes do.
Very often I find myself wishing that I was born in the 'good old times', one of the many reasons is that I wish I live in a time when people write poems and give them as gifts---it is simply sweet and meaningful.
I could write simple poems but couldn't really give them out as gifts because I'm afraid it's too much, too emotional and too personal, no matter how close I am with the receiver.
My parents were once separated by distance, but they maintained the love not only through phone calls but also handwritten letters. And many of the times, my dad would write my mum poems and she would write him back.
How romantic!

I wish people still do this now...
Just if the world has more amateur poets and fewer people who complain/curse/talk bullshit/gossip, it would be fantastic.

Tonight, I'm reading some of Pablo Neruda's works.
I share with you this poem which speaks my mind and heart.
Readers, enjoy.

If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing. 

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine. 

The last three line hit me.
Frustration, anger and disappointment only mean my yearning for love.
I can be strong and independent but the truth is, I miss you and I miss the way we were...

Love,

N

Oh Deer!

If, just if, you can have any wild animal on earth as pet, what would you choose?
Being a wild child, I have a hard time answering my own imaginary question--it is simply too difficult to limit my answer to one!
But I can be very sure to tell you that among all the wildlife animals, I'd love to have a fawn or a deer.
I know, I know.
Living in a semi-tropical city where living space for human is already scarce and pricey, having a pet fawn is not only expensive but also a ridiculously selfish and inhumane act.
But this is just an imagination.
Yes, I want a fawn, please.

My love for this graceful animal started since I was small.

Their round, dark, innocent and watery eyes.
Their slender long legs.
The way they jump--so effortlessly, so swiftly.
The colour of their fur, and the white spots.
The antlers male deers have, those majestic antlers and their beautiful angles.
Their gentleness, timidness and shyness.
Their quiet and gentle nature.
Their grace.

I remember watching Bambi when I was very small.
Thanks to Bambi, I came to getting the idea that fawns have spots as camouflage to help them hide and keep them safe.
Knowing that I was also very small and my mum called me a baby, I thought, 'maybe I have spots on my back too, just that I couldn't see them!'
I remember lying among cushions on the sofa, thinking that I could blend in and my mum couldn't see me.
Of course, she found me with ease and asked what I was doing.
I pointed at Bambi.
Wasn't I silly?
Somehow this personal anecdote of mine always makes me wonder if my future baby would do the same.

Those majestic horns

Another memory about deers happened on one of my trips to Japan. Also when I was a small kid.
It was the first time that I saw deers. Almost a dozen of them.
It was somewhere near a shrine, a rather quiet and unusual sightseeing spot.
It was a cold winter and my hands were cold even under the gloves.
My parents bought a few grilled/ roasted sweet potatoes from the stalls nearby, as snacks and also to warm our hands.
Those deers then slowly appear before us--they knew we are gonna share.
They are larger and taller than I was.
I didn't know what to do except standing close to my parents.
But god! Those animals are beautiful.
They moved and walked so gracefully, came before us and did something very unexpected--they bowed.
Apparently these animals learned this trick to get food.
But me as a little girl, fascinated by their grace and gentleness, thought they are trying to be friends with us.
My mum encouraged me to feed a smaller deer with a small piece of sweet potato put on my palm.
I did.
The doe walked near. Her eyes were dark but bright and round.
She bowed, ate the potato and licked my fingers.
I still remember vividly that the way she licked my fingers--gently, as if she was saying 'thank you'.

Maybe my fascination with deers has a lot to do with how I innocently perceived them in my childhood.
But the thing is, I grow up still fascinated
Deer becomes one of the things that I draw.
I have two deer figures as decorations in my bedroom, bought from FrancFranc.
Sometimes I search for information about this lovely animal, learning that they make very loving pets.

I found out that an iconic lady kept a pet fawn which would accompany her on her grocery trips, slept by her side, followed her around and considered her the mother.
This iconic lady was equally graceful and cute.
She was Audrey Hepburn. And the fawn was named Pippin.

I also found out a beautiful artwork, by Peregrine Honig, called the Twin Fawns and the sad story behind them. (Peregrine Honig's website, click here)

The Twin Fawns

These sleeping beauties look as if they are peacefully and quietly sound asleep.
Their closeness, the way they were positioned--nose-to-nose.
They are beautiful; gentle, tender, sweet.
They look so fragile.
But the sad thing is: they were never born.
The mother doe was dead and her body was by the side of a road.
Someone found her and wanted to dispose her body properly. Then they found out she was pregnant.
Having twins is a rare thing for deers.
Amazed by their beauty and rarity, the full-grown fawns were taken out and preserved.
A say story and a beautiful work of art, nature's beautiful work of art.

So, readers, I picked fawn to be my imaginary dream pet.
Oh dear (or deer), what is yours?

Love,
N

JR in Hong Kong

Ever since I read about JR last year, I have been a fan of him.

I searched about his work, how he started from a graffiti artist to who he now is, how he post illegally and risks being caught, his projects and the fascinating meanings behind them.

Then I blogged about him last year in August. (Click here to read the post)

JR

This internationally renowned yet still anonymous French artist JR empowers ordinary people with his global art projects.

He made it to Forbes.com's list for '30 Under 30: Art & Design' (30 people under the age of 30 who have made a mark in the world of art & design).

JR at TED Prize 2011

When he won the TED Prize, he made a wish, 'I wish for you to stand up for what you care about by participating in a global art project, and together we'll turn the world inside out.'

Then he launched and invited everyone to join the Inside Out project--the world's largest participatory art project.

Inside Out, Women are Heroes, Face 2 Face, The Wrinkle of the City, Portrait of a Generation...I couldn't name a favorite because I love most of his projects.

They are all inspiring and fill my mind with thoughts and questions, because the faces appear in his work are real people and real lives.

Up to this moment, his work still gives me chills. 

TimeOut Hong Kong, one of my favourite and regular reads (even though I'm not an expat), has interviewed JR.

He shared his appreciation to differences and diversity, 'that's the best part. Depending on the place, people interpret my work differently: they see that as art, they see that as a political message and they see that as vandalism-- and it's the same thing they're seeing. But from the people's side, they always see it as an act of valuing themselves, showing that they exist, that they're here. That's the common language.'

I was thrilled to know that Galerie Perrotin is holding an exhibition by JR, named 'Pattern'.

I found myself waiting and counting down for the opening on 18th Sept.

His Inside Out project in HK features 16 large portraits of city dwellers pasted on the rooftop of the IFC footbridge in Central, looking up to the city's skyscrapers.

For those who are not in town or for whatever reason couldn't make it to the gallery, I have pictures to share with you. Just the outdoor part of the exhibition.

On one of the glasses of the gallery writes 'Look Down'

So I did.

And I saw this.

All the 16 faces

Honestly, his Inside Out in Hong Kong doesn't wow me as much as his other projects.

Perhaps because of its scale and location being less 'public'?

But still, I'm glad that he finally came to Hong Kong--something I wished for!

I find it incredibly difficult to explain myself whenever people ask me, 'why do you like this artist and his projects? What so special about these black and white portraits pasted all over the city?'

'What's the point of pasting huge posters of black and white portraits of ordinary people being pasted on the walls and buildings?'

Those are some of the moments when I know what I'm thinking yet can't find the right word to express them.

Most of the time, I have a feeling that my compliments and brief interpretations don't give him justice and are merely understatements to his fantastic work.

3 Simple Reasons Why I Like Him and His Works:

1) I like that it's simple yet sends powerful messages. It strikes me.

2) I admire him for being humble and stays low-key.

He stays anonymous so that people focus on the work and the faces of portraits instead of him. He stays anonymous by not disclosing his full name and always wearing sunglasses and hats. 

3) I love that his works have strong humanitarian focus. 

The way I see it is that for art to move and captivate people's heart, it has to closely linked and intertwined with humanity.

Otherwise, it is just pretentious.

I still remember the Tunisian boy in one of the videos, I think he points out the essence of JR's work way better than I could, 'it is not the same face but it is the same people'.

Yes, it's all about humanity--the people, their stories and their beliefs.

We might be separated physically, classified differently by gender, nationality, race, culture and beliefs, but we are all the same: People.

We all share some fundamental beliefs: Life, love, peace, respect, humility, hope, equality, kindness, gentleness, fairness, faith, forgiveness etc.

I love that he invites on stage anonymous heroes and embraces the multiple faces of humanity.

To be seen and to be heard, because we are the people of the city.

This is the main message of his projects, at least the way I interpret it.

Do you believe that art can change the world? Maybe it is difficult and takes a long long time.

But one things for sure: art changes people's lives.

Anyone interested in starting up a local project as a part of JR's Inside Out Project? :)

For more information about JR and his work, visit his website.

Love,

N

Best Find in San Diego

Went to San Diego the last few days, back to LA now.
The harbor cruise to Coronado, the zoo and Safari park were great.
(except a bit too chilly that I caught a cold now..)

I found something during my stay in San Diego.
We rent a car and brought our own GPS. Still, sometimes we made the wrong turns.
Then we discovered something that made me screamed with joy in the car.
Pretty much like what happens in life: unexpected things happen.
Sometimes shit happens.
But at the same time, the best things happen in the most unexpected times too.

My dear readers,
See what I've found: Before I die blackboards!
Blogged about this long ago. I'm still crazy about this idea.
Really excited to see it with my own eyes.
And yes, I wrote down my answer. (though limiting myself to 1 answer is a very difficult task)

Picture time:

Yup, that's me.

Me and people on the street.

I wish we could have these boards in my city, to make people stop and think.

Love,

N

Reminder to Graduates like Myself

Important thing comes first: Happy birthday to Kate!
Sweetie, I've known you for at least 7 years now.
I can't remember exactly which year...but I guess it doesn't really matter coz you know I love you. :)
Even though you and I are quite different in many ways, somehow we get along so well together, don't you think?
Example:
1) I'd say your fashion style is sweet & cute, using 'happy' pastel colours like pink, yellow, orange. But I'm the exact opposite, 'cute' is never the word for my style and I never wear pastel colored clothing (maybe just accessories).
2) You being the more 'submissive & gentle' one in a relationship while me being 'the extreme: either sweet or shit'.
If I were a chauvinistic guy, you are the perfect girl.
Girl, please stay with the good guys who treat you right and never go back to the bad guys. Promise?
If any bad guy appears and treat you bad again, I would literally fight and beat them up.
And next time if there is a man staring at you, stop being shy and don't stay quiet.
Just pretend that you were me and tell them 'fuck off' in their faces/ call the police.

We are so different but I'm so glad that our differences only add sparkles to our friendship.
Thanks for being such a great friend.
Hope you like what I made for you. Remember to stay pink!
I love it when you have this air of pink around you when you are so happy or being in love.
Babe, happy birthday & I love you. *hugs and kisses* :)

So to celebrate Kate's birthday, we went art jamming with a friend today.
Usually do my paintings at home, but I also enjoy painting sessions at studios.
Mostly because I don't have to wash the brushes and do the cleaning afterwards  really love to draw.

The idea of going to an art jam is a last-minute one, so I don't really have much time to think of what to draw. Just go through a few pictures for inspiration and then go with the flow.
But, isn't this the joy that art gives us? The joy of freedom and creativity.

So after 3 hours of being 100% focused, occasional chitchats with the girls, a bit of singing-along to the jazz music they played at the studio, 2 drinks and a bit of snacks, I turned a blank canvas into something like this:

Well, I rarely draw portraits of people because I cannot make proportions right, I can't draw hands and facial expressions are way too difficult for me.

Anyway, this is my attempt. At least she looks like a human being.

I don't have any training in painting but I enjoy it. 

That's what matters, isn't it?

And after I finished the whole thing, I looked at it and thought to myself, 'such a nice reminder. Could be a good graduation gift.'

Ok, so this is gonna be MY graduation gift to myself. And of course to all my graduating readers, if there is any.

Random fact about me being a woman: always find excuses to  pamper herself.

A girls' day out is always a good idea to relax and pamper myself.

Today being a good example. :)

Love,

N

Wuthering Heights

Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights is made into a movie.
The film did create the atmosphere and heaviness, but it is much less heavy or dark compared to the original work. The plot is still there but a lot of important details are missing but of course, it is understandable. Some of things happened in the movie did not happen in the book.
Turning a novel into a movie is a daunting task. And usually doesn't work.
For me, because visual images, no matter how stunning they can be, can hardly compensate for the beauty of words that is lost.
Wouldn't call the movie a disappointment, nor a surprise--mostly because I don't have much expectations and I know I would always prefer the book.

Read it when I was 15 in my English Literature class.
It became one of my all-times favourite novels. Re-read it a few times and still enjoy it.
It used to be my obsession--not for its romanticism, but for its almost unbearably immense anguish.
Sometimes it's so painfully heavy that it suffocates me, but I am obsessed with how excruciatingly intense it is.
The combination of pleasure and pain in exquisite extremes--it makes me feel both alive and surreal at the same time.

Some of my favourite quotes that I thought would appear in the film:
'He (Heathcliff) shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.' -- Catherine, Volume I, Ch IX of Wuthering Heights

'If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and, if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a mighty stranger. I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees--my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath--a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff--he's always, always in my mind--not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself--but, as my own being.' -- Catherine, Volume I, Ch IX of Wuthering Heights

'I love my murderer--but yours! How can I?' -- Heathcliff, Vol II, Ch. I of Wuthering Heights

'May she awake in torment! And I pray one prayer-I repeat it till my tongue stiffens-Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me, then! Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! It is unutterable! I cannot live with my life! I cannot live with my soul!' -- Heathcliff, Vol II, Ch. II of Wuthering Heights

Now as I look back, teenagers shouldn't be allowed to read this book, let alone making it a learning material--as we all know how easy romantic novels intoxicate defenseless young girls who simply have too much imagination about love.
Well, I enjoyed it.
It is particularly interesting as I read through the notes I scribbled; my thoughts and interpretations of the story.
I don't usually write on books but it used to be my textbook, so I did.
Funny feeling of a dejavu, '7 years ago, I held the same book, read the same story, felt something strong and wrote this. And now, I'm back again.'

'The love between Heathcliff and Catherine, the star-crossed lovers, is expressed through giving and receiving pain, not tenderness nor sweetness,' I wrote.

On a slip of paper clipped into the book was written some questions,
'what would it be like if Catherine married Heathcliff? Would they be happy? Maybe they are not meant to be together, they are meant to be apart.'

Do I have a different interpretation? Do I feel more, deeper or less?
Do I understand it better than I used to, with a few more years of experience?
I used to think the love depicted in the book was beautiful because it is deep and unforgettable.
But now, I don't know what kind of love it is.


Everyone dreams of a love that consumes them--the kind of love that you completely lose yourself into, like when Cathy says she is Heathcliff.
But when Cathy says 'I am Heathcliff', who is Cathy?
Once that fire fades, what are we left with?
Just excruciating grief, uncontrollably haunting memories, regrets, self destruction and a wound that never seem to heal.
The saddest thing of losing a love like this, is that we lost ourselves.

As we are consumed and lost ourselves completely in a love like that, we blur the line between who we are and the person we love.
When that relationship is gone, we are gone. We are not even left with ashes of who we once were.
Then the world becomes a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that he has lost her.
Every single day becomes so long that he has to remind himself to breathe and almost has to remind his heart to beat.
Life becomes a long fight that never seem to end. Yes, he wish the long fight will be over, but at the same time, he doesn't want to get over it.
Why? Because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting, as Peter Pan says it.
And he couldn't forget. It was too deep, too memorable, too dear.


Why would we still want to losing ourselves to have a love strong enough to move mountains?
What kind of logic is that?

Heathcliff thought he loved Cathy all through their lives.
But no, he only loves Cathy for who she was, not who she eventually became.
And that young, mischievous Cathy who spends time with him in the woods is gone, even though she stands in front of him as a well-behaved, grown up lady.
Who Heathcliff loves is his old (or young) self, who he used to be when Cathy was with him, before Edgar appears.

What good does this love do for anybody?
One can hold on to beautiful memories, but not drowned eternally by it.
Love shouldn't trap a person in the past or in anguish. 

Love is scary, life is scary, aren't they?
I wish recovering from pain is as easy as giving cliche advices like 'set it free, let it go'.

Dear readers,
I still believe in love.
So I take risks, have a 'love like I've never been hurt' attitude and stay hopeful.
I hope you do as well.
Love life as hard as you possibly could. :)

Love,
N

What Day is Today?

The UNESCO makes the 30th April, today, the International Jazz Day.

What is Jazz? Jazz as a music genre is so broad that there is no agreed definition of what it is.
From big band to bebop, from cool jazz to afro-cuban jazz,  from latin jazz and bossa nova to jazz fusion, from avant-garde jazz to nu jazz and free jazz...the subtypes of jazz are numerous and sometimes they could be very different from each other.

Many people mistaken jazz as music for the privileged, perhaps because of its relaxed and laid-back quality?
A certain type of music belongs to a certain class?
I know the history or the development of the music is closely related to some social classes, but in this age when music is almost open to all and shared by the world, I find it very peculiar that some people still classify music that way.
True that in the days when there is minimal entertainment and the radio was not even invented, only the rich and wealthy could afford musicians in their houses, at their disposal and enjoy live music whenever they please.
But the origins of jazz is nothing glamorous.
It is the music of and created by the Africans who were sold as slaves to America.
It is a music of a humble origin, of the slaves, prostitutes and the poor, played by musicians who a lot of them have drinking and drug problems and definitely very difficult financial situations.
Most of them were illiterate that there was no written scores for the music they play, so a lot of times they improvise.

Rooted in African traditions and born in New Orleans in the US, jazz tells the story of Afro-Americans:

their lives under slavery, their melancholy and sufferings, their voices against oppression and discrimination.
At the same time, jazz has witnessed social transformation: end of slavery, liberation of Afro-Americans and their success to win over the hearts of music lovers..
Well, perhaps sometimes I find some cool jazz too long and slow and electric jazz/ jazz fusion annoys me so much that it gives me headaches,
perhaps I couldn't decide if I love or hate Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock...
but when I hear that swing, the improvisation, the syncopation and the scat-singing!
Nothing seem to matter anymore--who cares about what type of jazz it is?! Who cares about what the critics think?!
As long as it pleases my ears, nothing matters anymore.
I never seem to grow tired of jazz.
And I hope I never grow tired of it.

Not only does jazz gives pleasure to my ears and soothes me,
I also love how it gives me little surprises and puts a smile on my face.
Exactly like how the music critic John Fordham described the music of Miles Davis,
“the sound of the skipped heart-beat, the caught breath, the sudden smile”.
It speaks my mind.

To all jazz lovers and jazz cats around the world,
Happy International Jazz Day!

Love,
N

Mamma Mia!

Except the fact that we went to one of the places which I dislike the most, last night's date was pretty good.

Whenever I go to that shopping mall, I just want to leave.
No idea why, but let's blame it on the 'energy', as if I believe in such a thing.

Then Starbucks saved our date, spent a couple of hours talking which is exactly what we need.
Felt like we turned back in time and moved forward at the same time, which is great.

When I got home, my family was watching Mamma Mia.
Such a good movie/musical that I haven't grown tired of (yet).
The moment I kicked off my shoes, I was already singing along and twirling, since I know most of the songs by heart. And since I know that would give an extra bit of entertainment for my family.
Made my teenage brother dance with me.
At his age, everything is 'embarrassing'.
Said to him, 'I know, I have said the same (bullshit), but it's time for dance'.
I know in the future, he'll have good memories about, to quote from him, his 'crazy sister making him do insane and embarrassing things'.
He'll thank me later, and it's not that I do this on a daily basis! :)

One of my favourite songs in Mamma Mia: 'Slipping through my Fingers', that mixture of love, pride and melancholy parents feel when their children grow up and eventually leave them. 

Mum and dad were talking about whether they would cry on my wedding day, if I ever get married.
Such a precious moment when I squeezed in between my parents and sang this song with them.
They live ordinary and quite boring lives, nothing great and nothing remarkable.
They don't nag and lecture me on 'how to live/be a good person'. But they live by example.
How lucky I am to have parents like them.

Another song from the movie which I also like a lot: 'The Winner Takes it All'
The lyrics is simple and clear enough to be self-explanatory.
Reality, rules, destiny, the tricks of life, missed opportunities, memories, "what-if"s and "I wish"s...
The winner takes it all. C'est la vie.

I should stop, before memories unleash.

I heard a saying which goes like this: 'Earth' without 'art' is just 'eh'.
Musicals is a great form of art and entertainment for their combination of dance, music and drama. 

Really had a good time singing and twirling with my family, silly but great fun.

'To make people we love smile'--a good enough reason for us to do silly things, not out of our stupidity but out of love.
Um...Okay, maybe both. :P

Be happy & simple.
Love as hard as you can & dance like there's no one watching. :)

Love,

N

On Being Childlike and Animated Movies

Simple pleasure of the day: Animated movies.

 

Kinematograf by Tomasz Bagiński

Just know about this remarkable Polish self-taught artist and animator: Tomasz Bagiński, and his compelling works.
Exquisite drawings, very detailed and complex. But the most amazing part is the music, excellent match and really leads my emotions.
His work isn't as joyous and childlike as Pixar's or Disney's work, but equally fascinating, just in different ways.

I'm sure many of you have watched an animated film by Pixar or Disney.
Among all Pixar productions, 'Up' is my favorite.
Don't ask me about Disney productions, I simply have too many favourites: Ratatouille, The Incredibles, and so many more!

Ok, I must confess that I love animated movies.
Many of us relate animated movies or cartoons with childishness and being silly.

Being childlike is different from being childish. You can be childlike without being childish.
Our grown-up society has undervalued childlike qualities.
And I think it's one of the biggest mistakes that our society has made.

Creativity, gratitude, curiosity, play, daring to make mistakes, laughing at your own mistakes, try again...
Aren't these qualities precious and wonderful?

I would never forget my dream to establish a children's therapy centre...

I'm not trying to preach 'Let's all be carefree kids again!', I'm not naive, I know we can't stay kids forever.

We all know we can't be carefree in reality, we face real problems in real life.
But sometimes we are too serious that it's not helping us in any way.

I know I have childlike qualities, and I'm not ashamed of the inner child in me.
As I grow, I appreciate these childlike qualities even more.
I hope I won't lose them as I continue to grow and enter the grown-up world.

One of the most important life lessons is to learn how to be at peace with yourself.
If you happen to have childlike qualities as well, you'd understand very well how your inner child can be in conflict with the reality.
That 'struggling & suppressed' feeling is terrible.
Your inner child is rarely appreciated and most of the time suppressed.
You don't wanna grow up, but you can't slow it down either, you can only tell yourself  'C'est la vie/ This is life...'
If you ever feel that way, please remember:

Stay who you are.

And, you are not alone. : )

P.S. It's an old information but still encouraging: National Geographic brought the Up balloon house into reality.

Thanks for reading.

Should get back to my readings and work now.

Much love,

N

Day 9: Dance

Having been going out a lot these days.
The rest of the holiday, I'm going to be an introvert.
I cannot be at one end of the spectrum for too long.
But I cannot stay in-between for too long either; it bores me.

Running bores me too. It is probably the sport that I hate most.
I wish I can be more sportive, like my boyfriend. But then if I'm sportive, it's not me.

My favourite sport: Dance
I have tried a few dances; international ballroom, latin dance, belly dance, Argentine tango, salsa.
I enjoy watching some of the street dances too, like popping, but street dance is never my type of dance.
Probably because street dances are more angry, strong type of dance and I don't like being angry & strong at the same time.
I like those types I list because they are delicate combination of strength, gentleness, class, beauty and sex appeal.
One might look very soft and gentle while dancing, but really, one has to use many, if not all, muscles to maintain a great form and posture, just to look soft.

I'm most happy and in control of my body when I dance.
I learned to use muscles that I didn't know I have.
I learned to walk and stand properly.
I learned to pay attention to even my fingertips and toes.
I learned to do make a better spin by turning my head and whipping my hair.

I learned to respect and follow the lead of man.
I learned to trust. (when ladies dance, most of the time we're doing it backwards and in heels AND arching our backs when we're doing ballroom)
I learned to speak with my body, listen to the silent messages of my partner and react.

Dancing is pure joy to me. I even enjoy the muscle pain.
Well, the blisters and pain from wearing high-heels for hours are excruciating, I have to say.

I have learnt so much from dancing,
way more than just dancing and the techniques.

Love,
N

Day 7: Photography

Not into professional photography.
I'm happy with just a decent digital camera but currently thinking of investing into a better camera.
Using a normal Canon for this challenge while my Fuji instant camera is my partner for the other project.

I do believe that a photo captures more than just an image and tells a lot.

Was finding some books today, with areas of interests like: Honors-project-related, fashion, home decor/ interior design, leisure reads, psychology, behavioral economics and politics.
Found a big picture book called Sexybook, by Esther Haase.

I would describe it as a photo diary of life in Moulin Rouge.
A lot of glamour, dancers, dazzling and sparkling costumes and nudity.
I enjoyed looking at the photos. Beauty comes in all shapes and ages.
Not being dirty-minded, but um...I sort of like erotic/nude photography.
Just that it's real and sensual, really not being dirty-minded or looking for porn.

Photo of the day: I took a few photos from the book.
Feel like I'm cheating...like illegally downloading....um...not very good
But let's focus on the photos (all credits go to Esther Haase, if you want more of her photos, buy the book)
Won't show the ones with nudity. And I wanna be fair to the photographer, so I shouldn't show you too many pictures.

News: I'm opening a Tumblr account.
My Tumblr website: subtlyextreme.tumblr.com
It's particularly for sharing of images that I love or find interesting or inspiring. (I don't own them)
And I have a big thing for typography. So, there will be LOTS of typography in my tumblr.
Typography is such a beautiful and artistic blend of words and images. It captivates me.

Not gonna quit blogging, just need an 'online inspiration board' sort of thing for my collection of beautiful images and also sexy images occasionally.
Come here often & go to tumblr when you just want images.
Please go check it out or follow it if you want.
But once again, this blog is still the main thing.

Love,
N

P.S. Read the post on Day 6. I put the post date back to 26th Dec.
(Not cheating if I'm making honest confession to you)

Day 6: Bohemian

'Not in the mood.'
This is the wildcard of girls.Well, at least, me. I think I heard someone saying 'stereotype!'
When we (oops!) I, don't wanna do something, from work to sex (not a part of my current life, just for example), I don't really need a legitimate reason that makes sense, let alone being reasonable.
Well, emotions is a big thing for girls. It's what our brains are built around, how our brains are wired.

Not in my perfect 'blogging/ photo-taking' mood, but still need to push myself a bit so that I don't fall into the spiral of depressive mood and inactivity.
And I have to keep my words.

So, here it goes:

A picture I drew, not my best or better works.
Don't expect too much, I have never taken any painting classes.
I did this one night when I can't sleep.
Thoughts battling in my mind but the late night itself was quiet and serene, perfect for painting.

One of the many thoughts was the bohemian lifestyle.
I have a fantasy of living like a bohemian.
I'm sort of a bohemian at heart, not always but the desire comes back every now and then.
By bohemian, I refer to the French kind of bohemians, not the American hippies.

My ideal bohemian lifestyle is like:
1) French-inspired, singing Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler all day long, doing what I want instead of following routines, picnics in the park, lying on the grass/ the beach, a bit of drinking and eating good food in small portions so that I won't become really overweight
(one of my weird theories: being moderately curvy is a way to happiness)

2) Absolutely no drugs or casual sex.Other things: in moderation.
Sex is not a part of my life now.
Another of my little theories for a good life:
(might vary on the first one, but absolutely gonna stick with the latter one)
Don't have sex before you are married, unless you wanna/sure that you are serious or gonna marry him/her. (no one can be sure, so forget it)
Don't have too few sex after you are married.
(Absolutely yes on this one! There you go, a possible solution to save marriage and prevent a divorce. Thank me later.*wink*)

3) Not necessary impoverished.
Come back from the sex part or my little theories, I'm talking about bohemian lifestyle!
Yup, my ideal bohemian way of living is simple. But not impoverished.
It's about voluntary frugality, not poverty.
I still wanna live in the city or the countryside, not wilderness or...in an old car.

The sarcastic part of me just said: Pretentious fake bohemian. Haha.
Hey! My 'love hard & love all' attitude is a proof of the bohemian in me!
So maybe what I want is 'urban-bourgeoisie-bohemianism'?
I just invented a new term! A lengthy one. Let's just call it UBB.

Back to the drawing. It's also about the romance of bohemian fashion: floral headband, wavy messy hair.
I absolutely adore bohemian style in fashion.

Why I like Bohemian Style in Fashion: (Maybe I have an obsession for making lists but...I'm just being a woman!)
1) The loose fitting which allows me to move around, dance, twirl or even climb
2) Self-expressive: dressing for comfort but hopefully still pretty (an extra clause for my definition of UBB).
3) Floral prints and lace (moderation is the key), maxi dresses, the simplicity, sheer & light fabric, pretty ethnic prints, lots of jewelries, turquoise accessories, brown leather items, etc etc. I just can't say no.
I can only say no to ponchos and fringes. Ponchos and capes never make me look good.
I never wear a fringe bag.
And I only wear clothes with fringes in two occasions: latin dance or Halloween.
4) Long, wavy, messy hair. My signature. Don't really brush my hair & I can never get it straight, just naturally curl and untamed. That's the word: untamed.

My painting faintly reminds me of Mischa Barton. Maybe I'm influenced by the images of her that I saw, without remembering. Anyway, it's an interesting coincidence: the green eyes and floral headband

Love,
N

Expo de Rue

When I say 'the city is the best gallery one could imagine', what is the first thing that comes to your mind?
Graffiti, maybe?

French street artist JR

French artist JR moved on from graffiti to way bigger street art projects.
By bigger, I mean both size and scale.

His fabulous street art projects started with him finding an old camera in the Paris subway.
He started taking portraits of people, ordinary people like you and me, and printing the portraits into big posters.
Then pasting these huge posters on walls in the community. Illegally, sometimes.
The city is his canvas.

That is just a very brief summary of what he does.
But what he does is more than that. His projects are truly amazing.
A reason why the projects are amazing is that JR does not try too hard to spread his messages.
Yes, the portraits are big enough as statements.
But what I mean is that, by not explaining, he spreads the messages because of people's curiosity.

When he and his team were posting white paper on walls in India, locals don't know what they were doing.
They asked questions.

When the Face2Face project, the biggest illegal exhibition ever, have portraits of Palestinians and Israelis of similar backgrounds like occupation side by side, he left people thinking.
He asked, 'can you tell who is a Palestinian and who an Israeli?'
For your information, people couldn't tell the difference most of the time.

His Women are Heroes project was launched in many different countries in the world.
In places where conflicts are frequent, women are usually the first targeted victims.
His project reminds people the fact that women are heroes and pillars to the community, even when most of the time they are unseen.
Such a simple but great way to empower these women and make their stories heard, worldwide.

It is truly a beautiful thing to see men participating in the project to pay tribute to women.

Kenya

Rio de Janeiro

How fun! One of my favourites.

Earlier this year, in March, JR became the winner of the TED Prize 2011.
He launched his latest project Inside Out on the same day he made his TED Prize wish.
His TED Prize wish is to use art to change the world, inside out.
Now, you can send portraits to JR & his team via email, tell them your story and what you stand for.
In return, they will send you back the poster for you to post in public.

Wrinkles of the City--Shanghai
Another great work.

I have been telling people about JR & his projects, people ask me if I think his projects can really change the world.
Saying that posting portraits alone can change the world might be too ambitious.
But his projects are making statements and sending powerful messages, of all sorts. That's for sure.
Inspiring and motivating? Yes.
A beautiful way to celebrate humanity? (in terms of both art and the meaning it carries) Yes.

In the official video of the Inside Out project, a Tunisian boy who participated was interviewed.
He shared what the project means to him and what he said moved me.
He described the essence of the projects,

'It's not the same face but it's the same people.'

People, read about the works of JR & his team. Support them!
If their work doesn't make you smile, feeling more hopeful & motivated for a better world, I don't know what else does.

Love,
N