tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13678923287247646332012-01-31T02:28:50.571+08:00Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.comBlogger3091100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-60391681397914486782012-01-31T01:01:00.001+08:002012-01-31T02:28:50.577+08:00

Some days I miss a hand to hold on to... having a hand touch the small of my back... having a shoulder to lean on to. I miss looking right into a pair of eyes and having everything I feel understood without a word ever whispered.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-7171530631669018152012-01-26T01:52:00.001+08:002012-01-26T01:53:39.099+08:00

My spirit is in shreds right now. All I want is to feel nothing... And I thought I could tuck away what it is to feel, to stop the constant roller-coaster ride. But we never get what we want, do we? I wish I can be more determined, abled to stick to my guns. But I am weak and soft-hearted. I opened up my defenses... I opened up to who I am, and it was listened to, understood. I am now afraid. I

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-32616051280620770492012-01-06T02:22:00.003+08:002012-01-06T02:22:34.153+08:00

I am not going to defend myself. It is not my fault that I enjoy the same interests that your men do. But no... I don't go about looking for committed men with the intention to take them away from the women they are committed to. And I will not change who I am - that is, I will always be open, friendly and warm to anyone whom I come across. I have never asked or expected anyone to fall for me.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-12660078898317421672011-12-31T16:21:00.001+08:002011-12-31T16:21:31.845+08:00

As the year draws to a close, I am thankful for this period of discovery. I am thankful for the people who are no longer in my life. They have made me realize how good life can be when I am rid of people who are un-accepting and ungrateful. I am even more thankful for the people who have supported me and loved me without judgement. Thank you darlings for letting light shine through my stained

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-52199817537338041342011-12-12T23:10:00.000+08:002011-12-13T02:45:35.166+08:00

Amidst the messages from friends of "Are you okay?", "What happened?", I did some thing surprising. I ignored them. Don't be mistaken, I am not one to shy away from telling my story or to express how I feel, but I have chosen to shelf my feelings and thoughts this time. It is not because I worry about coming across weak, fragile, infantile or vaguely bordering the ridiculous. I did so because I

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-47055130247115386132011-11-29T03:51:00.001+08:002011-11-29T14:07:47.586+08:00

except me. Is it me? Am I so horrible, unacceptable?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-72172828582866865672011-11-29T02:28:00.001+08:002011-11-29T03:25:57.667+08:00

For the past few years, you're the single person that I've been utterly honest with. Why? I don't know. It is not because you have opened yourself to me that I have felt a need to reciprocate. But I have always felt compelled to tell you the truth. Weird, isn't it? I have missed you while you were away...

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-51297846028955994372011-11-25T04:35:00.001+08:002011-11-25T17:01:04.207+08:00

He broke down in the middle of the street and cried long and hard. He was an anonymous figure to all, but anyone who witnessed the gut wrenching muffled cries of his tears couldn't help but recall the deepest sorrows they too had hidden in the depths of their hollowed out bodies - bodies that had endured the painstaking whittling of hope that life and time has etched on them. 

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-43042011137347236422011-11-19T02:46:00.001+08:002011-11-19T02:46:08.239+08:00

isn’t so much that you’re unhappy – you could be very happy indeed. It’s just that the depth of your experience ensures that little episodes will trigger the very memories you’ve tried so hard to forget.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-66074042153152844702011-11-14T03:27:00.001+08:002011-11-14T03:38:40.186+08:00

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-39091646854547811802011-11-07T02:09:00.001+08:002011-11-09T02:15:46.380+08:00

Hearing him say that one sentence made me sad. Perhaps because I've forgotten what it is to live, to be pleasured, I have no inclination... It doesn't matter how long I've gone on without. It is as if I do not care anymore. Except when I am lost to slumber, in another world where my senses are heightened, where each breath in the convoluted vortex of my subconsciousness makes everything feel

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-10471263148715945602011-11-05T18:35:00.000+08:002011-11-06T16:44:02.614+08:00

you haunt me only because i let you.... for in reality nothing you do can hurt me... yet each night as i lay down, you creep into my dreams... you creep in and fill the hole you carved out of me. i know when morn breaks comes the sting of the searing pain. but i don't do anything about it. because pain is all that i have left of you.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-46921018653689312422011-10-31T02:29:00.004+08:002011-10-31T02:29:33.883+08:00

As I sat across listening to him, I realized that if he wasn't my Dad, I would have cut him out of my life a long time ago. Each time he returns from China, he is callous, selfish, hurtful. A self centered man who can't recognize the consequence of his actions. I call this the "voodoo" of China.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-702859177965286222011-10-25T03:51:00.000+08:002011-10-25T23:42:43.874+08:00

I sat on those very benches, lost in my own thoughts, seeking the truth, or a truth... and I was confounded by this notion: I was encapsulated in this little bubble. With nothing. No goal. No ambition. No desire to be spent with... and I wondered, is this all there is? The curse of desiring nothing. 

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-91068563450282822892011-10-18T00:16:00.002+08:002011-10-18T00:18:00.552+08:00

We were at a new place, bodies touching. I could feel my skin tingling, wanting you. I turned by body into yours and you did not flinch. I longed for you to complete me. Ached. Really ached. That was a dream I dreamt last night. Yet, it was vividly obvious who you were. And no, it's not that guy. It's you. Have I been subconsciously sexually attracted to you? Or that I'm just lustful, seeing

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-68913609155762642112011-10-13T02:23:00.002+08:002011-10-13T02:23:54.857+08:00

When you get to know someone, all their physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in their energy, recognize the scent of their skin. You see only the essence of the person, not the shell. Thats why you can't fall in love with beauty. You can lust after it, be infatuated by it, want to own it. You can love it with your eyes and your body but not your heart. And that's why

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-42728526921687230822011-09-28T16:56:00.002+08:002011-09-28T16:56:40.727+08:00

"She was silently crying, as if you were both notes from the same symphony and as if your tears were touching, even though you were far apart.... Tears are words that need to be written down." - Paulo Coelho It is only true if those words will be listened to and cared for. Otherwise, keep those tears hidden in the dark alcoves of our insides.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-23231978213774810662011-09-20T03:00:00.003+08:002011-09-20T04:26:11.391+08:00

Too many coincidences. Just last night, I dreamt of a conversation I had with a friend a year ago about his Dad. "Do you miss him?" "Yes." "Even though you had an acrimonious relationship with him?" "Well, it's not that I can't live without him. And, it's not that I needed him whilst he lived...... .... but I miss him.... .... every day. Every day I think about him. Every day." "Ah. You remember

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-41415517713948585182011-09-09T04:54:00.001+08:002011-09-09T16:09:37.114+08:00

"We carry God in the fragile vessel of our humanity." It's been almost two months since I heard this sentence at a homily from my parish priest, and it has stayed with me. Now at the weekend where the Feast of the Holy Cross coincides with the 10th anniversary of 9/11, the sentence rings and beats against my chest with nowhere to turn to. I remember exactly where I was when I first

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-69147327958186567432011-09-03T14:16:00.000+08:002011-09-03T14:25:42.800+08:00

to fall in love... I could, but do I want to?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-85065928399477330222011-09-01T12:35:00.004+08:002011-09-01T17:31:04.127+08:00

I now know what divorcees go through. To sign on the dotted line, the finality of it... It's bitter sweet. You might have known the end was around for a while... Heck, the thing might have been dead for some time and you have not cared one bit for it. Yet, when it's time to say goodbye, ensure there is nothing you can do to revive it, it is a fresh stab to the chest. Goodbye. You have brought

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-46250616956645720272011-08-19T02:57:00.016+08:002011-08-19T04:55:58.315+08:00

‎"Because words are actions and they make things happen. Once they are out you cannot put them back. Something irrevocable will have been done."  Intimacy, Hanif Kureishi I have always taken this as my mantra, believed it to be true. I'm still reeling from a couple days back when as the sun was about to rise, I could reveal all my vulnerabilities to you and you did not view me with disgust.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-37043346925194716302011-08-17T06:24:00.000+08:002011-08-17T06:24:12.969+08:00

"I'm doing what I'm doing... because who would love me as I am? Accept me as I am?" "I would."

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-88485279257709444932011-08-13T00:00:00.003+08:002011-08-13T02:43:51.828+08:00

I have recently finished reading Jack Kerouac's On the Road. It took me two months. I carried it around to cafes, sipping coffee after coffee, smoking cigarette after cigarette, slowly savoring each word and line. I underlined those that spoke to me and often re-read them a few times before moving on to the other pages. It scared me how I identified with so many of the passages written. It

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-77080006979560304502011-08-12T17:13:00.001+08:002011-08-12T17:13:32.579+08:00

I love this description of me.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-78960146933314607952011-08-06T13:10:00.011+08:002011-08-07T01:44:21.707+08:00

What's your road? Sometimes I feel like we're nothing but passengers in this thing called life, powerless to do anything as it drags us along in its drudgery and senseless nightmare road. We crane our heads back, searching... searching for? Old memories or what it could have been? Then quickly, I dispel this thought. We make our own paths. It may not seem so, but in small subtle ways we push

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-27008128509919980732011-08-02T22:17:00.003+08:002011-08-06T03:34:30.521+08:00

Three years back, at this very same spot, I clicked my heels with joy. I received the a-ok that I would have more than ten years to live. It was my first brush with mortality and the sheer exhilaration of being alive was intense. A wry smile touches my lips now. I wish I can feel the same way again. I don't. It isn't because I take life for granted. I guess deep in my heart the question of "what

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-73233874277831169802011-07-28T02:28:00.003+08:002011-07-28T02:48:30.741+08:00

HB asked if I slept this late every night, and when I replied in the affirmative, he went "wah".Which got me thinking.... Yeah, I am different. I don't work. I sleep way late. I travel alone and end up chatting with old men at other dinner tables about their grandchildren, managing theatres in LA, climbing mountains in South Africa etc etc. I also end up chatting with rabbis and other religious

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-88268994146770621772011-07-27T12:53:00.003+08:002011-07-27T13:03:39.414+08:00

Dawn broke and we were still awake...Magenta hues streaked across the sky and quickly morphed into shade after shade of the broad spectrum of the atmospheric palette. The sky finally settled into a blue, cool and calm. It was a blue unaffected by the searing white heat of the sun.We were silent throughout this whole 12 minutes. We were silent even before that. It wasn't for the lack of

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-68408230253530808952011-07-23T04:50:00.006+08:002011-07-25T01:59:32.514+08:00

You ask me what perturbed me most.... It's the lies.I can deal with you taking the assistance I give you without any return. I can deal with you accepting the care and kindness that I showered on you without any return. I can deal with you being mean and nasty, because I give excuses that your life must be in such a terrible state for you to act this way. I can deal with all that because I made

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-23928301961339920822011-07-21T05:04:00.003+08:002011-07-21T05:12:25.572+08:00

Heart to heart conversations into the wee hours of the night.... when it's between a boy and a girl, it's all that more special. "Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk - real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious." Jack KerouacIt makes

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-59921855448184954582011-07-15T04:02:00.003+08:002011-07-15T04:05:43.032+08:00

I am reminded yet again that I often receive love that I don't see, because I'm so focused on the idea of love being some thing else. Thank you.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-46835154383226375472011-07-14T01:48:00.009+08:002011-07-14T03:37:49.610+08:00

I steel my heart,shroud it in a blanketthick as this fog I'm trudging through.Left right left rightOne foot in front of the other.Lined up against the wall we perchPolite murmurs, the whirof billboards changing.The inevitable awaits.A nervous anticipation.What end?The door opens, like a shot!and we all flutter away.Frenzied. Searching.... searching... searching.Searching.But we are already

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-61267521598150262212011-07-02T17:18:00.005+08:002011-07-04T04:34:51.523+08:00

A week apart and it couldn't be startlingly different. Last night I hung out with a bunch of folks who had organized a gathering to welcome me back from my sojourn in Europe. It was really nice and kind of them to do so. But as I sat there, I wondered if my interactions with them can be considered "friendship". It wasn't awkward and there were smiles and laughs, yet it was superficial. Our

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-4161866931620110362011-06-30T23:03:00.004+08:002011-07-01T04:03:53.963+08:00

After an awesome time living in London, I've experienced some pretty unpleasant life events back here in Singapore. I guess that's what mean reverting is all about ain't it? Good things evened out by bad things.But if so... it means that after all my horrid relationships with men, the love of my life should be just around the corner, shouldn't he?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-841954609698661322011-06-24T14:05:00.003+08:002011-06-25T13:58:16.636+08:00

What causes people's tastes to be of a certain way? Is it innate or born out of influence? And if it is by influence, how do we choose who we let into our lives? To shape how and what our hearts desire and lean towards?Inexplicable chemistry. I realize that when people like you, everything and anything you do is interesting and tasteful to them. When they stop liking you (not necessarily fall out

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-34526015178884954652011-06-21T04:35:00.010+08:002011-06-21T23:40:32.221+08:00

"His bitterness was the mystery of my childhood, turning me stubborn and defiant. Like most sons of unhappy fathers, I had a hole inside me cut to the shape of his sadness, a hole I tried to fill in all the usual ways and never did, because happiness would be too much of a betrayal. My miseries were a tribute to his own, a fucked-up gesture of fucked-up solidarity."My Father, The Spy - John H.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-5689893009966038312011-06-17T12:56:00.011+08:002011-06-17T22:36:29.387+08:00

Perhaps I've been harsh. I forget the moment you read what I write, you choose to enter into a rather intimate relationship with me. You may not be aware of it before, but know this - by taking in my words I have affected you in some way... even if it is as minute as taking away those seconds of your life you took to read these lines.Are you sure you want this?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-59356262144704635682011-06-16T00:48:00.010+08:002011-06-17T00:32:54.977+08:00

A blood-red moon. A beautiful phenomena that occurs so rarely when Earth casts off the blue spectrum of the Sun's rays into infinite space, leaving behind the red ones left to travel towards the moon and reflect back to us. This occurrence is the third one in ten years, and combined with the recent volcanic ash activity, we are gifted a rich blood-red stained moon. Many cultures view it as a bad

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-83302618052382927972011-06-11T04:20:00.004+08:002011-06-11T04:34:12.530+08:00

I know you will read this... And that you won't read too much into it.There are some spots, some places that you remember people by. And, just 10 mins ago as I walked past my pool back home I am suddenly flooded with memories of chatting into the wee hours of the morn lounging by the pool chairs with smokes and beer... Of dipping our feet and legs into the water as we sit by the water's edge.I

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-20473909751923754002011-06-10T17:01:00.010+08:002011-06-11T04:19:07.714+08:00

"There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness - a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life."White Fang, Jack London

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-33413447592162504922011-06-09T19:38:00.002+08:002011-06-09T19:40:27.098+08:00

“Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. (Al)most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.” —Haruki MurakamiThis statement resounded with me when I read it. It is true. People change.Half a life ago, sitting and playing my heart out with a 1hr recital program to a full house audience of 2000 people, I would never imagine leading this life

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-91047871868511730812011-06-05T02:25:00.001+08:002011-06-05T02:28:10.008+08:00

This was at the border. Between dreams and reality. You were there. Remember?You had to choose. Choosing the realm of dreams meant taking risks. It was an opportunity to find that elusive essence that your soul longs for. But, there was a chance you might end up so broken and lose yourself in the murkiness of those empty dreams you dream at night.You chose reality. A million small deaths.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-47099105192649138542011-06-04T17:06:00.003+08:002011-06-04T22:08:09.487+08:00

The minute I say I have stories to update from Europe, my friends all ask if I hooked up with someone... Hmm... I mean, interesting stories don't always encompass action does it? Having said that, a male friend argued that there is always the perennial tension between guys and girls that usually includes sexual tension, which I guess is true. But no... I did not hook up with anyone there. Not the

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-88240453066207907712011-06-02T18:08:00.004+08:002011-06-02T18:31:11.657+08:00

Classic. J wanted to surprise me with a surprise visit to London. We missed each other by a hair's breath. Moral? No surprises. Most likely you'll end up surprising yourself.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-91162859272839111132011-05-31T07:08:00.003+08:002011-05-31T20:10:06.167+08:00

CT sends me a message to tell me that my sex scenes are generic, like boring Hollywood scenes. Dang, there goes my hope that I could write a semi-erotic novel and make millions. He reasons that it is because I'm not having enough sex.I tell him "Fuck you." And he retorts... "Damn right. That's exactly what you should be doing."Rolls eyes....

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-19262624828772289402011-05-30T03:14:00.002+08:002011-05-30T03:20:13.992+08:00

Tomorrow will be my last full day in London. I am reminded that I would travel back here many more times but I still feel a sense of loss. If I put these 3 months together with the rest of the time I lived here, it would amount to 7 years. Yet this trip is special. Because it belongs to me and me only - not like when I was in college and there was a huge community or when I was working here and

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-85373515481869423432011-05-27T23:16:00.004+08:002011-05-27T23:47:39.137+08:00

"So among all the places you went to these 3 months, where did you enjoy traveling to most?""Without a doubt, the long weekend in Paris.""Why?""Well, I haven't been there for 15 years... plus, do you know what it is like to bare your soul to someone, and receive no judgements, only acceptance? I found that with him. It was as if a light shone through my stained glass of stories...I thought I made

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-92102778632748499672011-05-27T06:57:00.004+08:002011-05-27T07:00:50.744+08:00

"Have patience in your heart babe. Some times things are not for you to resolve, but for others to. And it would take time for them to grow into understanding. And some times, when time passes, the world changes, you change, he changes... and the thing resolves itself."

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-89133005766428659432011-05-27T04:26:00.008+08:002011-06-06T23:45:14.055+08:00

I'm not usually this crazy about things like this... but this 1927 cushion yellow gold rolex with luminous arabic numerals has gotten my heart racing....Lurrrrrrve.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-53796699826647039652011-05-26T04:06:00.002+08:002011-05-26T04:13:22.181+08:00

A secret kept even from ourselves:how bridges are fallingbetween the imagined wordand the spoken one,between what I sayand what you actually hear.If you could slowtime down, perhaps you mighteven hear them falling.Bridges of years our heartshave signed away to crumble,collapsedown the middle, leavingbehind a gaspof air between two banks, widewith unspoken truths,a thousand pleas for empathy.New

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-22454438303152987712011-05-23T21:05:00.004+08:002011-05-23T21:13:56.591+08:00

I received a message in my inbox"I'm not in Stockholm and don't ask me why because I don't want to talk about it"I laughed out loud reading it. First, I was wasted and had no recollection I asked about stockholm and promptly removed the post the minute I realized I did so. Second, he doesn't want to talk about it. What a nice way to say "I don't want to talk to you". He sure does talk about it to

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-20962120159038494922011-05-22T19:20:00.002+08:002011-05-22T19:24:36.520+08:00

What's worse than drunk dialing? Drunk writing!Good Lord. I don't recall ever having written the post MIT-Harvard divide. Although having read it, I'm amused that there were no typos. And thus, it's something I'm going to keep as a reminder that when my subconscious takes over, I seem to operate as per normal. And now despite feeling like death, I have to go check my phone to see who I drunk

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-43110712036627266712011-05-22T07:00:00.007+08:002011-06-07T02:16:13.943+08:00

I literally bumped into an old MIT team mate of mine three days ago in London... as in bump and hit on the corner of a street. I mumbled "sorry" and he shouted "whimsical bunny! (ok, my real name but anyhow...)"This led to a BBQ with a bunch of MIT-Harvard alumni (since when did we hang out together??) at his gorgeous house in Notting Hill. I barely knew half the people there, but it was so easy

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-88254188504504917012011-05-21T19:03:00.005+08:002011-05-21T19:44:19.491+08:00

Memories fade. And I'm referring to good ones. Bad memories... we pretend they don't exist but they stick to us and skewer us with their pain. However, really good memories never go away. They stay dormant waiting for that trigger. The wait might be long but it never fails to amaze.Yesterday I received a surprise call from Devin. He was worried about me. The moment I heard the words "Hey stranger

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-52064511373039752662011-05-20T05:16:00.002+08:002011-05-20T05:30:22.014+08:00

Our bodies swayed to the pounding music. We were not touching, yet, but slowly you slid closer until our breaths mingled with one another's. You stroked my arm with your fingers and I leaned into you.Suddenly you took hold of my hand and we ran off towards the dark corridor. You pinned me against the wall. There were others around us, but we only had eyes for one another. You lowered your head

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-65517951786112734142011-05-19T05:08:00.003+08:002011-05-19T05:14:42.531+08:00

There must be something about being a girl alone. Like the other day in front of National Gallery, where an old man asked if I was OK because I looked pensive. I was actually there with someone who was sketching away, but I smiled and shook my head. And then there was the other time at a cafe when a Scot-American started chatting with me. He was lovely. He was an ex-fund manager that is now

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-8614554587555647032011-05-16T03:53:00.004+08:002011-05-16T04:20:52.990+08:00

Well... not really. More disillusionment.I hosted him, I planned and made travel arrangements, I bought him dinners, I lent him my camera (which I may not have used, but it's not exactly a communist state. where because something isn't used, it should be shared. I did it because I thought he'll like it)... Hell I even bought him Rachael Yamagata tickets. And yeah, I did get a nod and verbal

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-11912957998106577162011-05-11T04:08:00.006+08:002011-05-14T06:00:55.559+08:00

Yes it does.Walking through that dark alcove of tree vines arched so quaintly, I longed for warm hands to envelop mine. At that moment, I longed for your hands on mine as we walk quietly through. But I wonder now if it is yours that I long for.No. I don't. I long for someone who would reciprocate my feelings. Who would appreciate me. For a long time I wondered what was wrong with me, why I wasn't

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-24514602539234625332011-05-06T06:16:00.003+08:002011-05-06T06:25:55.596+08:00

You sneak into my room past midnight....Our gazes catch and you slide beside me. Our tongues touch, softly and then tangle in wild abandonment. We hear noises of drunken louts staggering through the corridors but it does not distract us from peeling each piece of clothing from the others' body deliberately. And then it is quiet except for our quickened breaths on one another. As you touch me I

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-65899411212462038992011-05-06T04:45:00.002+08:002011-05-06T04:46:48.660+08:00

There are people who can open their hearts and people who can't... you can if you want to.What happens when people open their hearts?They get better.-Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Woods

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-18169769865253465682011-03-18T04:50:00.001+08:002011-03-18T04:50:38.715+08:00

Reading Norwegian Wood just makes me miss you more. You once told me you were never out of a relationship for more than six months at a time.... and yet it's been almost a year since you developed a lasting connection with someone. Why? Some times I flatter myself and think it's because of me... that our emotional entanglement has changed things for the both of us irrevocably and forever. There

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-79649895774527194642011-02-14T23:47:00.005+08:002011-05-21T09:51:43.934+08:00

I was cajoling F-ster to buy a 1 million dollar car at cost when he suddenly goes "why the hell are you home? Shouldn't you be out on a date?"Well. Yeah, of course I was asked out on dates. But it seems so wrong to waste my time, precious moments on people that I feel nothing for just so that I'm brought out to dinner on a day like this. So much love to give. No special someone to give to.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-43544746497361211952011-02-10T01:05:00.003+08:002011-02-10T01:12:51.428+08:00

Let me pour every drop of my being out to you?Would you care about all that inflicts me? All my joys and sorrows? Or my uncertainties and when I emerge out of the ashes triumphantly? Would you? Would you?No. I am nothing more than a character that plays out my life to you on your stage. You watch. In all your magnanimity you accept how my life plays out. But I cannot and will not be able to feel

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-30480616366018177632011-02-01T00:57:00.004+08:002011-02-01T01:55:47.623+08:00

This one sentence gets to me.. some thing I had always thought alienated people from me.. It read: Your expressiveness can only be an attractive quality.Oh. Why don't we all write letters like we used to?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-33617314093367334282011-01-27T02:35:00.002+08:002011-01-27T02:42:23.347+08:00

A sudden memory brings me back to Fabric... of waiting till 2am before we head there for the best DJs...Of converse (or prada sports) shoes... of beats... bass and deep beats... of hopping and jumping... of an amazing rave party...London... I am coming.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-671666122182602782011-01-25T19:08:00.004+08:002011-01-25T22:12:45.934+08:00

Met up with T last night and we started discussing if my recent posts made me sound like a slut. There is no doubt that I am comfortable with my sexuality, and I can understand why some people might term me one. But what if I'm married, and still open and comfortable with being sexual? I have never thought of sex as a means to an end. It is a sensory connection, of touch that speaks of words that

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-33687362223300156732011-01-17T20:54:00.002+08:002011-05-21T10:00:17.075+08:00

The minute I close the door I kick off my shoes and place my keys on the ledge next to the wall. One hand begins to unbutton the top of my dress as I move towards the living room. I place my bag on the old leather armchair and shrug out of the dress. I catch myself smiling at how you used to love watching me do this daily routine each day when I get home. Except you're no longer around. I stand

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-70284812148432455052011-01-15T00:30:00.006+08:002011-01-15T12:29:11.026+08:00

Your skin on mine, I breathe in your scent. Our tongues touch in a kiss. Did I ever tell you how sweet your tongue tastes? I wonder if mine tastes of honey to you...But that's just fleeting... True intimacy is fingers grazing, then intertwining... laughing over the smallest things... holding on innocently... teasing the other... nuzzling the nape... silent gazes... and comfortable closeness.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-51367779846102413832010-11-30T02:37:00.001+08:002010-11-30T02:38:58.861+08:00

Everything seems to check out fine but I've been told not to over-tax my body and to indulge moderately.The things is, that's what I've been doing. Haven't I been indulging moderately?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-76565328903959587922010-11-25T01:25:00.002+08:002010-11-25T01:29:17.511+08:00

It was kind of weird to bump into you tonight... while I was out with J&C, and London guy.... And you were there with E.... When you spotted me, you came by and kissed me. I couldn't help but also realize how E was extremely cold towards me when we were introduced. Did you tell her about me? I don't believe you're that stupid to do so. Oh well. Nothing's come to pass between the two of us. So

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-88104676768902646052010-11-22T02:54:00.004+08:002010-11-22T18:28:00.490+08:00

i am falling under the weight of that facade. tonight i'm afraidi'm so afraid... i wonder if i'm pretending for your sake or mine.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-83085477797672357832010-11-19T00:50:00.002+08:002010-11-19T00:55:01.772+08:00

I think I've found the perfect wedding song. Well, nothing cheesy for a walk-in typical of Singapore weddings.My wedding, should it ever come to pass, would be some thing simple, small and heartfelt. Only close friends and family. A wedding Mass in the evening at a beautiful garden with lanterns hanging from tree branches, followed by a simple dinner, a great band and the wedding dance to Ray

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-85585284049833296362010-11-16T00:55:00.003+08:002010-11-17T00:07:32.528+08:00

but me...

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-72295703882018911022010-11-12T01:33:00.003+08:002010-11-12T01:36:17.058+08:00

Prodded. Poked. Radiated. Tested.Seriously, it ain't worth it if the results aren't good.Two weeks. I know the drill. Anything before that is bad. I'm totally pleased with anything two weeks or more. Thank you very much.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-29325934453746238052010-11-07T22:14:00.008+08:002010-11-09T00:33:00.957+08:00

Remember how in 2007/8 I was spending time in hospitals? I never did dare allude to one problem that was treated on, perhaps because I was scared by talking about it, I might make it consequential.Last week, I found a lump. Maybe. I don't know. Or I'm pretending that it is not there for whatever escapism I'm trying to live for now. I know I should go back to the doc to check up on it, but I'm

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-10379701324999263892010-11-02T18:06:00.005+08:002010-11-02T18:23:44.290+08:00

I dreamt of him, his mom and his dad last night. It was snowing and we were being children playing out in the snow. It was surreal. I remember laughing heartedly with his mom. In real life, I like his mom alot. We had only a brief encounter, but she was warm, laughing and didn't mind that I spoke poor Chinese. I knew I was dreaming as I dreamt. It was too good to be true. He would never pay me

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-33044394186299075322010-10-28T00:31:00.003+08:002010-10-28T02:35:02.235+08:00

Crossroads. I never thought that when I prayed for someone to love and cherish me, I'll be thrown three men who are definitely looking to settle down, who seriously scare me a tad bit when they look at me. I want someone I want to love and cherish me. While those blokes are good lads and make sense on paper, I don't know if I'm quite there yet. I don't know if I want them. Yet, it feels like an

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-69910452159823562732010-10-26T03:54:00.007+08:002010-10-26T20:49:14.529+08:00

I don't know if I love you, or that you’re just enigmatic to me.There are times when I see the simpleness of your life and how immature you are. And I don’t even know why it is that you intrigue me. And there are times, when I come across some thing where I know only you would understand what it is to feel the way I do… because you are a sensitive soul… because some things I know is beyond

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-32063187834345306722010-10-10T23:32:00.002+08:002010-10-10T23:38:28.360+08:00

I have concluded that young peeps are skinny not because of their higher metabolic rates (as compared to older folks). I have not exercise for the past three weeks. I have eaten a hell lot more than I usually do. I've freaking lost weight. Simply because I'm been swamped with work, anxiously and continuously racking my brain as to how I might creatively finish my assignments. Some medic friend

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-27204876234618791212010-09-28T01:28:00.003+08:002010-09-28T01:32:56.389+08:00

good things some how happen....I was derailed, at a low point for a good many months. And, the moment I decided enough was enough... well, more like come to terms with the situation, things have never looked better.But it will not derailed my London plans.... I'm headed there in October to check out how I'll spend time there in 2011. My London/Europe sojourn is a year late. I was to be there now

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-84758072143117854242010-09-26T14:10:00.009+08:002010-09-27T13:25:55.055+08:00

I was talking to J about men on msn chat yesterday when she exclaimed out of the blue "All your ex-boyfriends have surnames starting with C!!"Dang. She's right. LC, DC, KC, GC (aka HB).... Serendipity? Co-incidence perhaps. Hmm.... should I be looking for new one with the surname starting C? Any takers?Something on the other end of serendipitous is that it's been more than a week and I'm still

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-60804602506246049662010-09-15T01:41:00.008+08:002010-09-16T23:24:20.609+08:00

How ridiculous is that statement?I was supposed to meet up with my church buddies for drinks tonight at "ba baaa black sheep", but a last minute emergency at home kept me from joining. I felt really guilty because they had arranged it such that it was convenient for me, although one couple was visiting from Indonesia and truth be told their schedules were a lot tighter than mine. An hour ago, I

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-83012536908893840492010-09-12T23:12:00.007+08:002010-09-13T04:16:59.547+08:00

1) J got married on Saturday! And it was a teary affair the afternoon before. We hugged, teared and she thanked me for being her friend and apologized for not having been there for me much these past few years. We had been growing distant and I had been sad about that. It touched me that she knew and cared enough to tell me how much I still mean to her. 2) L came by to talk to me at the wedding

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-17390841886256310772010-09-09T00:41:00.001+08:002010-09-09T00:43:03.094+08:00

"You can't reveal your true feelings??? You're so full of shit. I give you to the end of the year, and I promise you'll have made your feelings known."Perhaps. But what happens if it is different this time?

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-53902155628606894382010-09-02T23:44:00.002+08:002010-09-02T23:57:25.218+08:00

I had always thought I would be excited about being a part of J's wedding. I think 5 years back, when she was almost engaged to Z, I was. We were in New York at Pastis planning what the wedding would be like, wondering what our kids would look like, and if they would enjoying playing with one another.J's getting married next week. And all the politics with this person and the other person is

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-70426919743538624282010-09-02T00:25:00.002+08:002010-09-02T00:26:41.554+08:00

another wound...don't pretend you don't know what it's all about.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-75188628696355258602010-08-25T00:59:00.005+08:002010-08-25T01:04:12.256+08:00

Feeling no different from seven years ago. Sitting by the window, looking out, hoping something good will happen. A different place, a different window. The same wish. Sad, pathetic? Or just the knowledge and experience of what life is?Probably, one of my most honest posts in a long while.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-47332190569402273122010-08-17T15:10:00.004+08:002010-08-17T15:23:48.681+08:00

We were perched on a cliff looking towards the purple orange hues of the sunset. We were still not talking. He was no different from a stranger who decided to come by this favorite haunt of mine. It was only when I heard an explosion and saw a plume of black smoke at a nearby island that he muttered, "It's some military exercise."He turned towards me and touched me. I looked at him and he quirked

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-84675523356141338382010-07-27T11:45:00.007+08:002010-07-27T16:23:18.848+08:00

It's almost 4 years since I started writing this blog. Beyond the desire to pen words that were swimming in my head, I wanted this blog to get to my then-partner, HB. I was frustrated and desperately hoping that through reading little vignettes of my intimate thoughts, that he would truly get to understand the real me. I wanted him to get me, not just to love me. It didn't work. We're miles apart

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-47076289335758872742010-07-21T22:33:00.004+08:002010-07-21T22:37:59.048+08:00

I'm such a bloke....Hijacked the 3 series today and floored it on the expressway... There is something about sitting so close to the road with the trees and buildings whistling past, listening to the inline 6 cylinder engine growling away....I've missed you....

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-25458151184983161472010-07-20T00:02:00.004+08:002010-07-20T15:11:47.040+08:00

Seriously, people are way too obsessed with me getting married.I'm not looking to marry. It's so out of context, its like "?!?!". See, it's been a while that I've connected with a man intimately on a emotional, mental and sexual level, and when that happens I'll like to enjoy this connection. I want to have fun and live in that moment. I want to enjoy spending time with the guy exploring the

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-21637910408200350392010-07-18T01:00:00.003+08:002010-07-18T01:03:53.777+08:00

As much as I wanted not to write about this, I've succumbed to my emotions... I'm weak, and allow too many small things to affect me.Found out that an ex is going to be a dad. I don't care for him and I am some what happy for him about the news, but it still sends me reeling like a betrayal. I'm a lousy lousy person.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-7411283279918559982010-07-15T05:27:00.003+08:002010-07-15T05:29:24.233+08:00

Laughing my ass off with a pal and recounting horrific tales old and new....Blardy insomnia from all the oxygen ingested, breaths gasped, hip-cups endured. Yes, but above it all, thanks for the only thing that mattered..."Everything in its time."

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-39401733241798395972010-07-01T00:40:00.003+08:002010-07-01T00:52:31.744+08:00

As I stand at the corridor smoking my cigarette, I notice a dark shadow beneath my favorite tree. It is a man sitting by the curb. He sits so still it takes me a moment to realize that it isn't a shadow cast from the tree, but that of a Bangalore construction worker sitting and contemplating the passing traffic.I wonder what he is thinking. He is all alone. He has no friends. The working

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-83021472922508790712010-06-26T15:08:00.000+08:002010-06-26T15:09:25.147+08:00

You know, "I love you" is a sentence that is always taken out of context. When and if I say "I love you" to my girlfriend(s), I really mean that they have touched me some how, to a certain level. It is not a promise of any kind. I can't promise that I will always love her, that I will not do callous things, that there will not be any difficulties or that I will be there for her. All I'm saying is

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-9806842476846675332010-06-23T18:39:00.025+08:002010-06-24T16:16:27.176+08:00

This September, I will be giving away my best friend to the man she loves. Giving away, as in, saying goodbye to our singleton lives and to give toast to the new adventure she will live. As I went about researching material for what to present as a token of my friendship and love to her, I came across this poem by Lawrence Rabb:Years later they find themselves talkingabout chances, moments when

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-84308853248570718182010-06-21T01:37:00.005+08:002010-06-21T01:48:17.487+08:00

I caught someone important to me telling a major lie today. It hurt. Real bad. There are many times I wish I was ignorant, a little stupid actually, so that I wouldn't realize a lie when I hear or come across one. I remember some months back getting into trouble for doubting what someone said. Well, this lie (from someone else), I know for a fact, is real. But it got me thinking. And, as I spoke

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-26793476047808220182010-06-17T01:27:00.004+08:002010-06-17T01:29:01.333+08:00

.... and beautiful.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1367892328724764633.post-59638224456011696602010-06-15T21:33:00.004+08:002010-06-15T22:18:30.751+08:00

Kinda... When my friend asked if I "met" any cute guys on deck during my cruise, my response was "I'm a good gal!" And I meant it. I'm a good gal, not a prude. Which means that while I wasn't sexually active till after graduating from college, I did so not because of some notion of saving myself for marriage, but because I didn't want to be making crazy love just like everybody else in the dorms.

Whimsical Bunnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17892867312599284538noreply@blogger.com0