NONSENSE QUICK NOTE.

I don't know where to start in this post so there will be a mess.

There are days I just want to sit on a windy rooftop that overlooks a broad view, let it sink and I take it all in easily.

In this creative industry, people have to damage themselves to create the best work. So the most beautiful things are the results of heart breaks and insidious pain.

There is beauty in something or someone that looks like a mistake. Perfect imperfection is perfection. Imperfect perfection is obviously an unfinished work. Nevertheless, the word perfect gives people desires.

Weirdness means it's unknown or not understood yet. If it already is and still remains weird, the it thing must have its difference. In my case, I still think I'm normal and easy to get. I have my differences but overall, I'm incredibly friendly.

My new pair of pants are so fine they make my bedtime t-shirt look so good.

Circle of Pain. Louisiana Lasagna. Pancake Stop. Handsome Babe Hot Ass. They are names for band that came up in my mind a minute ago. Will people use any of those? If yes, would you kindly let me know? Make it happen via my email: jamie.nguyen.bao@gmail.com

Yeah. What an odd idea. Maybe I just want pancake.

COFFEE ON THE TABLE.

Coffee on the table

Running cold

Is it me or the warmth doesn't flow?

Egon Schiele on the wall

Above the reach

People come, people go

Some will stay, who knows?

Egon Schiele painted faces of people

in colors and in shades of grey

Remember

while the favor fades

Such value, long gone away.

Coffee beans 

but powder in my cup

Schiele

but no painting or such

Printing is a convenience  

Originality sucks

as it's too expensive. Who gives a fuck?

It's really cold

The coffee in my cup

I want to stay here forever

Life is a woman

The only thing predictable is the unpredictable

Live the moment

Let loose or be troubled

Don't make sense. Make dollars

Think of no money

Do further

Egon will relive

Schiele will make sense 

We'll get beef.

BLACK ANIMALS.

Are you feeling uncomfortable? Let's hear my joke aka my life.

Last Thursday night, after hanging out with our designer and manager, I came home and found the worst nightmare ever happened in this family's history. Hedi, my cat, shit all over my blanket. LITERALLY SHIT ALL OVER IT. It was bad. It was really bad. His stomach was ill. I could tell by the color and the smell of his shit. My whole room smelled like a kingdom of shit. I took off the blanket cover in disgust and terror. I had to detect every corner of my bed for any sight of shit with MY NOSE. Even when it was done, my room still smelled a lot like shit. My window was wide open, my fan was working hard. I thought it would be a terrible idea to turn on the air-conditioner in that situation. If any machines in my room had feelings, they'd never forgive me for that night. I was sleeping in fear. The fear of sleeping in a bed full of shit. Next day's morning was slightly covered in the same smell and I also found a shit mark on the floor near the door. 

The worst part is, I kicked Hedi twice that night. I was really angry and shocked. I felt so disgusted. I don't think that shit machine will ever know guilt. But take a look at it again, it was my fault. Hedi was ill indeed. That was on me, my responsibility. It makes me feel even worse. It's the same thing that happens over and over in my life: I fuck up and blame the world for it. Hedi is normal now and I gave him a petting earlier. I still feel I owe him an apology and a better attitude of me being his care taker. Maybe it wasn't me sleeping in the bed of shit. Maybe it was me being the shit. 

Talking of fucking up, I've been thinking of my father lately. Most of my life, I have never fully trusted him. He always fucks something up. He wasn't a good husband to my mother. He is a careless dad. It's one of the reasons for who I am today. Of course, he's taught me things. But it would take a ridiculously strong person to be his daughter and the price would not come cheap. I paid that price and at times, I wish I had a better father. Because I think I would be a happier person, I'd smile more and open up more. My life wouldn't be so closed and difficult. When my mother died, everything changed. The only person that held the warmth of the house was gone. My father never spent a minute discussing about it with me. He never made that effort. After two weeks, I broke down. Bad things take time to kick in and for me, it took two weeks, There was one time I thought I could find some of my mother's pills in her wardrobe. To do what, I wasn't sure. But I was thrown into that idea deeply. I don't think I have the guts for suicide. Does it even take guts? Killing oneself is not a brave thing. Whatever happened, I knew I had to move on and live well. Strangely though, I was thinking I really needed to have that presence of pills near my bed. 

I never found any pills. In fact, I never actually did it. For a while, whenever bad things happened, there was this thing that kept coming up in my mind: "What do you mean? My mother died!" Like "What do you mean this doesn't work / it's not good enough / I can't do this? I no longer have a mother. Isn't that bad enough?" It's silly. It is.

I also learn that bad things are blessings. Yes, I'm angry at my father. But I love him more. And the first thing everyone should do to their family is to protect them, for better or worse. In the end, he lets me do my things and doesn't get disappointed when I fail. I have learned two greatest things from my father:

1. Never stop learning. If there has to be a person nominated for biggest love of learning, I'll suggest my father.

2. Love animals. He's the start of my love for cats and the one that agreed we could have a dog. Because of A-chim, my dog, I was saved.

He taught me how to read maps. I was good at remembering capitals of countries in the the world. Overall, my memory was impressive. He encouraged my interest in astronomy, taught me how to meditate and always made me watch Discovery though I hated it sometimes. Because my father never had a childhood, he never knew any fairy tales. When I was little, he had to make up a story about a bear and two rabbits to tell me before bed. Over and over again. He had no idea about children's stories. His version was something that goes like this:

In a stormy and cold night, an old bear's house was torn down. The destruction was terrible and the bear had to get out to find a shelter. He ran to the White Rabbit's door and knocked:

- Dear White Rabbit, please let me in. I'm soaking wet.

The rabbit looked at him through the window and said:

- No no. You're so big. You'll tear my house down.

The bear looked down sadly. He ran again to the Black Rabbit's door and knocked:

- Dear Black Rabbit, please let me in. I'm soaking wet.

The Black Rabbit rushed to the door and opened it. He welcomed the bear:

- My dear, please come in. Hurry.

Inside, the bear was offered fire and food. When the storm went out, the Black Rabbit helped the bear rebuild his house. The White Rabbit saw that and felt bad. He came towards the bear and apologized for not letting him in during the storm. The bear said:

- It's ok, dear. 

They smiled at each other and together, the three of them built a house.

That's the story. The learning value of it is: always help people in need and how people look doesn't define their quality. Because at that time, I found black animals ugly.

So that's about it. Have a good night and we'll see each other again in next post.

GAME OF THRONES | BATTLE OF THE BASTARDS.

Alright, alright, alright.

Game of Thrones baby. 

Battle of the Bastards went exactly the way it should be. Nice start at Meeren I must say. It lifted our mood up so as for it to go down again in the last half of the episode. I'll jump to Jon Snow and Ramsay part.

R.I.P Rickon. I was thinking Ramsay's arrows might have injured the Stark boy's leg as possibly predicted by Arya's earlier gif above. I was wrong. Rickon's death kickstarted Jon and that was the first part of our hopelessness. Jon ran in hatred towards the Bolton's army in time for the wild men to approach him. That was also the first part of Jon's luck. In the rain of arrows, men and men died being stabbed like meat loaf. But..

Standing tall in the rain of arrows

Only could Jon Snow.

..not one single arrow hurt him. When I thought the battle had just begun, the camera zoomed out and there were huge heaps of bodies already. That was when I realized the writers might have overdone in this episode. As the battle went on, the Bolton's army revealed themselves clearer (great strategy, Ramsay!) and Jon suffocated among dying men, our hopelessness reached to the point where even we thought it couldn't have got there. It's exactly what we were supposed to feel. Hopeless and empowered. The writers would push our mind to that corner until we ran out of ideas to get out. That's when Littlefinger and Sansa showed up. Then, the battle re-began.

Wun Wun, the giant, appeared in this episode to sacrifice for Jon and highlight the crime of Ramsay Bolton. He looked like a porcupine when he died. That's the second part of Jon's luck when we saw the contrast of the unharmed Jon and his severely injured men. Ramsay's effort in shooting arrows as 'fighting against Jon Snow' was a low brow. The hopelessness of ours, instead of juggling to Ramsay, actually just.. didn't. The rest was handled to Sansa. In the crypt of Winterfell, Ramsay Bolton was torn apart brutally by his own fella, released by his own wife. The same dogs he used to feed with his victim's flesh, now are full of their master's pieces.   

Did you think Jon Snow won this battle? Jon made a retarded decision. It was Sansa and the rest of the army that claimed this victory. Littlefinger is up to something. That's clearly the price. Whatever it is, I'm up for it.

Back to Meeren. That was some fast traveling Greyjoys! Romance possibly will rise between Daenerys and Yara. Will Mother of Dragons go gay next season? That's some serious eye contact we got there ladies. Tyrion finally made sense. He was so lame earlier with the jokes and wine that I thought he was sober. Grey Worm played it badass with his knife. One hundred ships and more are ready. Now we only need Cersei to burn down Westeros with Wildfire. There's high chance Tommen will die. I'm excited for the destruction in King's Landing. I hope to see Bran in the last episode and what the Night King's up for. He's the real villain in this series. Ramsay Bolton, compared to the Others, is nothing. A flat character with poorly-cultivated background is just a pin for a little fun. Or like my dude said: 'a two dimensional villain'. 

Do you feel like Battle of the Bastards was predictable? It had the same motif with the episode when Jon Snow defended the Wall, yet couldn't blow our mind, especially the book readers'. It's probably because the next book hasn't come out yet and George R. R. only let the writers of the show know what they needed to know. So this season can't be based upon the unpredictable and smart core of the books. 

We'll see how it goes one last time before the one-year wait happens again. I'm hyped and also quite confused as I'm very close to another important date. This one even involves my life. After Game of Thrones, there's not much time I'll be spending here. It stirs me with a lot of confusion and wondering. I wonder if I've used my time the most efficiently and rightly. But that's for another post. Enjoy reading friends. We'll catch up later here next week.

HEDI'S INVASION.

I wish I could come up with something intellectual or inspiring at this hour, with this lightness of mind. All I can think of is how quickly my time is being shortened here and it's not even welcomed right now. I'm not surfing my keyboard like playing a piano. I'm clacking it. 

Hedi is sleeping peacefully in my bed. I'm not sure where and how to move this creature without interrupting its lightness of being. If he wakes up and doesn't see me petting, he'll give me these big, surprised eyes and consistent stare until I make it happen again. Hedi checks up the situation about every thirty minutes. This cat is very specific about getting petted. Paws being circled, belly scratched and tickled, back rubbed and the end of tail slightly touched. He's too high on cool air to realize how miserable I am half sitting half lying to sacrifice this bed.

I'm yawning already. Friend, if you're reading this fresh, what are you even doing at this hour? 

1:31 a.m

I'll chug some cold water before bed. We're on full tropical mode right now. Papaya, banana, mango, mangosteen, lychee and custard apple. These seem heavy for me. Normally I'll go with an apple or a piece of melon. Oops, Hedi checks up again. He's very much like me when I was little. If I don't obey, he'll stand up and look at me dearly with a little threat. Then collapses immediately when I start petting back. 

1:40 a.m

Alright. I'll have my water. Have a good night and don't sweat too much.

NONSENSE RHYMES.

"Dim sum
I want dim sum
Or steak and fries
Iced tea."


"I made my mom made it."


"The weather was amazingly pleasing
I and my cat were sitting by the window
while I was waiting for the water to boil."


"I think they only pee to please
for the sake of the script they're given."

Above were some of the lines from my conversations with my friend. All unconsciously rhymed or sounded like a poem. Many are left somewhere in my inbox. We shall conquer the history later if 'later' I remember. 

Below are lines from my friends' conversations with me I liked the most.

"My lunch in primary school
Chicken soup and sticky rice once more
Made my mom made it.
Now it's a haiku
A terrible haiku"


"It rained at 5:30
And the weather was amazingly pleasing enough
Cat sitting by the window.
There you go
Now it's a haiku"


"Snickers makes me feel like a fat American."


"That beauty after punk and before hiphop is a great transition for the subculture
That gap is called the blank generation."


"No one cares that you are drinking alone watching people
So you can enjoy life one slice at a time."


"That's the great thing about humanity.
The invisible, yet tactile connection between each other."


"You don't need to prove me anything. I'm convinced."


"I won't even waste my time on you if I think you're shit."


"Trời ơi mày có cổ phần ở đấy hả em"

SKYSCRAPER'S LIGHTS.

I'm sitting at Tadioto tonight, having a piece of apple pie served with cashew, caramel and vanilla ice-cream, drinking hot Earl Grey and about to smoke. Did I just describe myself in a sentence? That line can be used from now on until I stop wearing black. I had a Skype date with my best friend dude and my laptop broke three times, worked like a charm on the fourth attempt and now I bet he's helping a friend to move. I'm looking at the melted ice-cream left in my plate, looks like my mood. I'm suffering from a breakup, every time feels like the first time. Every time is different. Every one is special in their own way.

Maybe this is a different 'first time'. Because this is the first time I actually sit down and write about it. Most of the times I ran away or hid with a happy mask. 

"I thought you broke up long time ago?" Now you're kidding me.

I can feel this is the end. Not an usual fight. I'm suffering instead of enjoying. Every time I tried to find a reason, I failed. So I'm not going to do that this time. I'll take it as it is. I admit there have been several occasions I villianized him, in a way that didn't represent who he was, only good enough to make me feel better for a while. Is it something we all do? Hate so as to live again? I can't go on hating him like that. I'm not the kind of person who lies to her own feelings. I write, it's compulsory that I stay truthful to my heart. The truth is I liked the guy so much. Looking back, I'm grateful for his appearance in my life. At least I wasn't alone from December to March. I didn't love him, I adored him. I have never loved anyone. I was so excited to see him even though some nights I knew for sure it'd be like shit. But I chose to be like shit with him. That's when I knew I'd found somebody special. When I could just shut up for a minute and comfortably enjoyed the silence. 

The thing is, the more we care about someone, the more likely we'll hurt them, the more severely it'll be. We'll mock them for such little things, take their existence for granted. So one day they'll leave. And we wonder why. 

I looked at the thousand lights on the skyscrapers tonight, and you weren't one of them. The night is still beautiful, the light is still bright. But why am I so not still? A flip and things changed. A word and the book was finished. 

It's sadness that makes things beautiful. It distorts the perfection a little so it'll be more real. We like the idea of each other. What lies inside sometimes is too much. 

For every one, I have a box for them. This time, there's also a post. 

I don't like the mushiness of it, how it starts with "I". But it's true.

BYE BYE SUNDAY.

The rain has stopped. A glimpse of sunshine appeared this noon letting people know it was Sunday. The last day of weekend has always been the most beautiful day for me. It's the day I'll wake up to without panicking and checking my phone for the time. Sunday's beauty remains unchanged in my heart due to the fact that's it's my one day off, the only time when I get a chance to sit calmly at a cafe for a croissant and cappuccino, or stay lazy in bed until lunch.

But today, I enjoyed Sunday differently. I woke up at 7.30 with no proper breakfast in the same outfit I was wearing yesterday. You know where I've been. The walk of shame strutting for a few meters until I got in a cab. Before that, couples of eyes couldn't stop staring at me. Was it the black outfit from head to toe of mine with their unavoidable volumn? Or was it because those people'd been through what I've been through to know the face of a guilty early riser? Beats me. All I knew for certain was that everyone wanted their decent breakfast warm and their usual coffee served right whether or not my outfit mattered. As for me, I couldn't wait to go home and make up to the loss of my beauty sleep.

The process tunred out to scatter until afternoon, which reminded me of the weird dream I had while struggling to fall asleep last night: Audrey Hepburn was on top of me with a knife sparkling in the dark, she stabbed me once, I grabbed her blade with the palm of my hand, she stabbed me twice, I opened my mouth and locked it shut. However painful the dream was, it left me with a strange feeling of victory as if I had conquered evil.

It has been a while since I last remember having a violent dream. It would be rarer to spend the whole Sunday talking about it. Maybe the rain of a typical March in this city is not the main reason for a character swing. The call of summer with its boldness must be. It's pushing the inner gloom of our personality to the edge once and for all so as for us to wake up in a new skin. Andrey Hepburn must have heard the calling and was there to help me shred last night.

If only I could wear the new skin quickly enough.

Before saying goodbye to the last minute of Sunday, like an uncharming, farmiliar, ironic joke of life, I don't know if I'm longing for the new me or missing my old self. In fact, I may have ruined a good beginning of a writing with a doubtful development of it, which convinces me it's time to go to sleep.

Sophie Calle 1981, The Hotel.

ASK ME ANYTHING.

I have added a new gadget on the right of the blog called "ASK ME ANYTHING" (you would like to switch to web version to see it). Feel free to leave me an anonymous question or a message and I'll get back to you in a post.

Thanks and have a nice day.

LA LA LAND.

I love everything that happened in La La Land. I understand why it ended the way it did. When you have an ambition carried from the beginning of your early vision, you don't question anyone's choice to step aside from it for you to go on. You respect the decision. Because that's true love. Only the one that cares will argue with you about your dream and the way you want to achieve it. It's that same one person who will fight when you give up and be happy when your dream finally comes true. There's no such love that grounds two people to a less desired life. It's only love when it lifts people up.

This movie is different from other romances because it's the instilled version of all sophisticated love, executed with excellent cinematography and memorable music. La La Land is true because I see myself in Mia and I have been with a Sebastian to know how hard it is to maintain a relationship between two ambitious individuals. Though it's been years, I know at heart I've had a very true partnership.

The kind of relationship of Mia and Sebastian leaves no regret to me. Do I think they had a chance to make it together? Yes. But the success wouldn't have been so great. That's the biggest point. I'll never want a piece of a dream. I want all of it and no other ways around.

As I left the theater, I thought "That was a very healthy relationship, wasn't it?" Will a movie made of a been-there-done-that story win an Oscar or two? I don't see why not. It's not the best movie I've seen but it's the one that sells the most.

THE RED BOOK BY C. G. JUNG.

"The ugly truth is that life of all humans is a consist of continuous contrary matters: day and night, birth and death, happiness and sadness, the good and the evil.

We don't know if one side of the matter would win the other one, the good wins the evil, happiness wins sadness: life is a battlefield. It was so in the past, it still is nowadays. If not so, life wouldn't exist."

Above is one of my favorite parts in The Red Book by C. G. Jung. 'Favorite' as 'the easiest' to associate. People having gone through ups and downs in life must have a similar take on it as the way he did. Understanding the fact that life is an endless but not meaningless fight. It's easy like A B C. But Picasso once said something like this, something that isn't an overdressing to me: "It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child." Sometimes, something as plain as the alphabet could require a person all his or her life only to understand its obviousness.

---------

C. G. Jung's journal is beyond average perception. When I bought this book, my first thought was to simplify the information and apply his conclusions on the daily basis. It took me a few paragraphs to get lost immediately and forget all about the simplification. Everything was in and out, pages to pages. Until he mentioned a special memory with someone or started to speak as normally as the quote above did my brain go back to functioning. 

Chapter VI talked about Archétype in Dream Themes, which can be referred as a 'superior symbol'. In this chapter, C. G. Jung mentioned his friend, whose daughter gave him her dream journal consisting of deep understanding of birth and death of all kinds in Catholicism. Superior knowledge in rebirth and extinction that only a few professors know was projected in 9 out of 12 dreams she had. It left the father and the author speechless. 

Jung wondered: "What made the daughter feel so important to make her dream journal a gift for father on Christmas?"

"These dreams were telling a terrifying side of death. Perception as such must have been possessed by the old, those who look back. It can't be for a normal child who's supposed to look forward. Her life is like a worship to youth."

Jung sensed something unavoidably destructive was coming for her. He was right. Something fatal was coming. The daughter passed away after a year before coming of her teen age.

---------

My mother survived a heart attack when I was 13. She told me in 'the deciding moment', she found herself in front of Buddha smiling at her and said "You'll pass this door." Several years later, in her dying days, she also said she kept dreaming of Buddha smiling and nodding gently at her, that her time was coming. It was right. But I don't mean to be supersticious. With my mother's case, I assume that she was overthinking and religion played a big role in her life. The context of her dreams was far more different than the child's, yet led to the same thing. 

It left me with a conclusion: dreams are dreams, but dreams are not dreams.

The perception of 'A is A, but A is not A' is familiar among well-known scientists, artists and so on. However, I don't consider myself as such. My point is, The Red Book has elevated that kind of perception I had to another level with precious knowledge. It left me with a stronger willingness to see things with its variety, not to forget to come back at the beginning and connect all the dots.

If you're still a little trembled by the daughter's story, I can give you my dream journal to wash off your concern.

Friday 13^th January 2017

Our studio manager asked me if I wanted to earn more money and I said “I’m happy where I am right now” while knowing it was a lie. 

I was diagnosed with kidney failure but informed later by someone that the diagnosis was wrong. My elder sister was very unpleased and said doctors always made such terrible mistakes, the only thing they could do was explaining. (During the happening of this dream, a part of me assumed my elder sister was thinking “They couldn’t even say sorry.”) 

Friday 20^th January 2017

I found a pair of shoes I really liked with my colleague. After trying the shoes, they turned out to be open-toe, which is something I strongly dislike in real life. I insisted on changing the style but my colleague and the sales advisor kept making me wear the shoes. 

Sasha Obama appeared out of nowhere and I saw her teeth without the bracelets. I couldn’t help noticing the teeth. 

Sunday 22th January 2017

Everything was so tedious in this math class. No lights and almost no students. The clock struck time out and I headed home. On my way to the gate, I realized I forgot my coat and scarf. I came up to the fourth floor just to find out the math class was surprisingly full and all lights were on. Awkwardly, I stepped in. A teacher, who was attending as a student, handed me my scarf. I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed for leaving the class early though I genuinely believed it had ended. On the black board, I could see they were learning something not advanced that I could have caught up with if I had joined. Someone gave me a flower made of green bean sprouts. On the stairway to the third floor, I looked at the flower in my hand and threw it away. 

It was a lucky game with prizes. Someone asked if the participants with journalist cards would receive an advantage in playing and someone else said yes. They would have more turns and the prizes would be more valuable. A creature, half human half moose, juggled in front of me. I was in our house’s bathroom the whole time. A window was open. 

Tuesday 24^th January 2017

Emma Stone rose from the ocean and flew above everyone. She planned to escape with the two terrorist students from Harvard and impute their crime on me. I shouted to people but no one bought it. 

In another scene, Emma Stone asked someone if the roof above them had a sky-high ladder. She climbed up towards the clouds but a person was chasing her. This time, people knew she had something to do with the terrorist students. 

I asked my friend to hang out at my favorite place but she said no. I opened a huge jar of M&M, picked a handful of them into another jar and started to eat, non-stop. 

Saturday 27^th January 2017

I was sitting in the waiting room of a hospital. A young man in black approached me. He insisted on telling me a joke but I continuously felt disturbed. Fortunately, it was my turn to register. As I went to the registry booth, Aleida Diaz from Orange is the New Black read my scan and said I had severe heart valve regurgitation. Red, another character, overheard the result and seemed upset. Some people faked a smile to keep me positive. 

I went back to the waiting room again. The man in black was gone. This time, I found myself sitting with my secondary school best friend. We were having tea and matcha cookies. My colleagues came by. They weren’t pleased to see me at the hospital instead of at work. 

After thinking for a while, I rushed to the kitchen where Red worked and asked her if she knew a good cardiologist and where to get a good scan. She wrote down an address and gave me some highly important small white medicine. I put them in my shirt pocket carefully. 

People at home tried to steal my medicine. A younger sister approached me during my sleep. I woke up quickly and fought her hard. I broke her legs, arms and eventually her neck, which killed her immediately. A dog appeared and tried to do the same thing. I slit its throat. Then, a father showed up, acted like he wanted to help but turned out to be evil. Too terrified, I ran. Suddenly, I found myself jumping off a cliff with my medicine still in hand. Up there, the daughter, the dog and the father were watching me fall. I didn’t die but fell into a cave full of food and water. I decided to live there until running out of the medicine. Until then, I’d be ready to see the doctor that Red suggested and begin to treat my condition. 

Sunday 29^th January 2017

I dreamt that one of my eyes have worms. At first, it was a little white something. Then it turned into a wormy creature. I tried to push its way to the end of my eye and pulled it out. Two more worms appeared. All three of them were forming a straight line from the upper-left eyelid corner to the downer-right of my eye.

Still concerned? I'll tell you one last thing. When I told the daughter's story to my younger sister, she felt just like you. She told me most of her dreams were based on daily life basis: "Normal things, you know." I suppose she did so to assure me that there was nothing to worry about. Thus, let's take new knowledge as something pulling, highly attractive, but not as a big grayish mass that clouds our judgement.

MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE.

While walking by the corner of Tadioto and Moto-san Uber, I recalled some feelings a year ago when the people and things I thought would last long turned out to end soon. I was devastated. There were several nights spent meaninglessly and a whole lot of me decayed indescribably. But after many illogical posts and much time of cleaning, I realised it was about time for me to climb off the old mountain and drive ahead to the next ones. Because you know what? Sometimes, not having what we want is a blessing.

On my way of traveling the valley to the next mountains, there is this feeling that I'm sure every one has been through, the feeling of not belonging to here and now. This state of mind only rises up when I receive too much of pressure, so it's once or twice in a while, a while as in two or three months. Instead of fighting and denying, the only way I can let it go is to accept the existence of it, which is the fact that a person can be exceptionally weak at times. Whenever I start to sing the familiar song of 'I don't belong here', I sit down in solid silence and recall Midnight in Paris. How the main character living in 2010 had longed for a reborn in the 20s, and how a beautiful lady living in the Roaring 20s had desired a life back in the Renaissance. The lesson is, we tend to want 'that' while having 'this'. It seems to always be 'here' and 'there'. His 'there' is our 'here' and vice versa. For short, we stand at the top of our mountain and choose to only see the others' mountain tops. 

On this long go from one mountain to the next, I sometimes forget that my mind should be my best alley and chase after things that are way out of my reach. It's a tiring, challenging game of acceptance and suppression. Must it be denied or faced? Not every time the dime turned out as a win. [Insert lots of confusion here].. Then again, there are yesterday and today. So ok, the doubtful shadow can stay. But how it stays will be turned into a fun experience of balancing as on a bicycle.

I used to think certain people were born to belong to certain places. Now it's only a matter of perspective to me.

MANY GOOD THINGS.

Superstitious beliefs, bad smells, uncontrollable sugar feeding, numb senses, impatience, confusion. That's what I got from overthinking without letting any of it out. These days, I've learned how much stress could affect my body. Some parts of my muscles ached each at a time. It took me around five minutes to slow down my heart beat, and five more to breathe normally again. I grinded. My teeth made love to each other in a hardcore way.

The reason I've been thinking hard recently is the same as in many posts before. I'm worried for my future. I was never born a person of peace, nor was I raised to be. Some people work hard all their life so one day they come to wish for the opposite of what they were chasing, I know. But my fight isn't so. I fight for the future that I want to create. I fight because I'm young, and it's crucial for a young adult to thrive for something higher so he or she will make a progress. In this fight, I struggle and sacrifice to get myself up. Every stumble hurts. Every lesson learned feels good.

Some people truly only want, what I call, a farmer's life. To grow what they need and to live with what they earn. I wonder how they think. I guess there are points in our life where our thinking actually matches. And there are also many points where we would explode towards each other's difference. I have wanted to give it all up. A suitcase was carefully packed once in my bedroom. But I'd never made the decision to leave.

It's easier to avoid, and I'm the alpha type, I face stuffs.

It's silly, isn't it? It will take this fight and many more until I finally realize my ambition is just one of all the things out there. Life is simple. Not many things we love matter in the end. People will remember us for the smallest things we ever did. Our children will be our legacy. Our work will make a history if it's truly good. And we, we will die. In pain, glory, silence and vain. In happiness and among the tears of those who love us. If someone asks me what I can't live without, I'll say love.

I hope when I read this again someday,  I will be able to make sense out of these words. Even answer all of my wonder written here. Right now, I'm thinking of how young I was a year ago. Time, it waits for no one. Tomorrow I can wake up being 25 and the next day I'll be 30. It's so fast. And I have many good things to offer for this life.

CLEAN.

I'd been so uptight for the last several days. It's been difficult for me to write about anything. I lost control of myself in a way that turned me into an uncertain and vulnerable person, which is not the kind of representation I'd like to be. I was lost of words. I started to say the wrong things, repeated them times to times, and it made me foolish not only verbally.

I thought I knew what I wanted. As my world broadened and my senses came to life more vividly through new conversations and the old ones, I realized "I want something else." Basically, it's exactly what it is. But different.

Sometimes, I wonder if I could pack things up and take a flight without any clues or plans. Just go and leave everything behind. Be whoever I want to be, start my life over again.

Today, I woke up clean. I thought I was drowning that Saturday night. This morning, I breathed again. I could feel I was gaining myself back. Thirty days of a month, twenty nine days being good, only one day being shit. It's difficult to go through and realize how naturally, forgivably stupid I was on that day. And it's completely understandable.

I guess that's how things should be.

THE TWO OH FOUR POST.

2:04 a.m

I can't stop thinking. I'm always thinking of something or many things at the same time. By the time I can express one of the thoughts, I'm already behind the flow of it.
Sometimes it's good. Sometimes thinking too hard is noxious. It's a blessing. What a damn thing.

A few times I found myself walking alone around 2, 3 a.m not knowing exactly what I was doing. I was only thinking. I wonder how other people do it. How do they walk? What's their speed? How fast is their thinking pace?

My eyes really want to rest. I've tried to shut them since 11 p.m and look at what I'm doing now. Eyes wide open with a toxic phone screen on. I keep thinking about things. My work, my future, how I want to do it, how good I want myself to be at doing it. Then I get lost in my thoughts with my past, my beloved dog, the old habits of mine, the worries I used to have, the questions I used to ask but now I've found the answers to. They always give me more concern. They also deliver peace.

For our mind is our best ally.

2.14 a.m

SOMETHING ABOUT US.

It might not be the right time.
I might not be the right one.
But there's something about us I want to say.
Cos there's something between us anyway.

I might not be the right one.
It might not be the right time.
But there's something about us I've got to do.
Some kind of secret I will share with you.

Can you and I be friends? Can you and I ever talk again? That possibility would hurt my memories, my present self, and the one I care about. It's never been finished the right way, has it? It's not even a question that needs an answer to. I can sense I'm being missed sometimes. From whom, I don't know. I guess it's you.

You won't be able to recognize the same person you used to know. And I will find myself thinking of you sometimes while listening to some songs I'm not quite fond of.

You might not be the right one.
It might not be the right time.
But I will remember you
like how you remember me.

THE LAMEST POST YOU EVER READ.

I brought Hedi to my father's arms today. At least, they could be alone together. I wish my father could connect to me the way he did with the animals. First day of October and I've already felt the loneliness brought by the month of Libra. I was born on 29th of September, which made me close to Virgo. My moon sign is Sagittarius, which helped enhance my sentiment to its best, or worst. My love sign is Scorpion. Fun, triple the trouble. Do I believe in horoscope? I like to believe in things that don't cost me anything.

But,

I've set up myself to always be grateful and positive. My motto is: when life hits hard, hit it back harder. My other motto is: make more money. My secret in making money: have fun.

Those are the greatest lies you will hear from me. Those are also the truths.

I miss my bed so much. Why the hell did I go out? Refund my decision. Give me back my time. I could have finished Jupiter Ascending. I'm feeling myself being so lame. I feel like I'll wake up in the embarrassment of knowing other people have read how lame I was online. And there's a share button. And I'll have to force myself to go with the nonsense guilt till the end of Sunday. You know I don't blog for publicity. I do it for the pure purpose of writing. To just write.

I want to go home.

Ok if you follow my blog, I'm sorry that sometimes you have to read this shit. It's a mess. It doesn't even make sense. I mean everything has some meanings, sure. But this shit is not inspiring at all. It's.. a despair. A short sad story that took me my last three cigarettes to write down. And the plot is what? Jamie and her wrong decision of going out tonight. I bet it's as usual as brushing teeth too hard.

Is it usual?

The thing is, it's no use complaining the usual-ty. It's no use complaining at all. Actually, I think I just make some sense out of this mess: I'm complaining. Congratulations, this night is getting brighter than the black hole just happened a minute ago. And that light has gone out. Shit, my mood changes like the quickest thing I've ever seen, and what the hell is that thing?

What the hell is hell?

In moments like this, I can either be a philosopher or a donkey. Do philosophers make money by trying to make sense out of everything? I wouldn't get too deep in this, I'm already deeply dipped in my own shit. Word is the core of creating. It's the core of everything, learning, making money, speaking, listening,..

I'm in my Uber now. Shit, it's actually quite nice of a car. I thought it was the grey Mercedes but this one is not bad at all. Impressed.

Updated: he drove fast and turned suddenly, I'm a little car-sicked right now. Damn it, I look so good. I can marry myself and live happily ever after with servants being the cast of Game of Thrones.

THE BEST IS YET TO COME.

At the end of the day, I find myself to be the happiest, luckiest person on earth thanks to my dear friends. You guys have no idea how much you matter to me.

So much.

Tonight, after 12 and two non-alcohol drinks, I see myself one year older.

To people who came to my life as ex boyfriends, thank you. I don't mean it in hatred and I never will. I don't hold grudge as it makes me smaller than who I am. You guys let me study myself in the most truthful way possible. I now understand the situation clearly. Everything bad that ever happened, I choose to ignore it. I thank you all for setting me free.

To my parents, you know it's been a long struggle in both career and education. I hope you're proud of me. I've worked hard and I'm trying every day to work harder than the day before. It's a tough life. It's more bitter than I thought. But you were right, I need to grow up from within. I love you. Everything I do, you know you have a big part of it.

To my colleagues, oh my god I love you all. I'm proud and happy to be in WEteam. There's no amount of thank-you that is enough. Just, thank you, and buy me cake.

Isn't it strange that on the day supposingly to be mine, I want to spend thanks on as many people as I can? It's because I'm happy. I'm so happy I may give a bath to Hedi tomorrow. My dude suggested me to take a day off and have rice with seafood. What a man, he gets me. I'll go to work as usual, collect everything, and go home, treat myself like a princess.

Now, I'll sleep the early morning away.

THE INDUSTRIAL ANGLE.

There is an endless number of questions I have for myself that I thank God secretly for letting me unable to answer them.

Am I making sense?
Am I making money?
When will my life begin?
When will life be through with me?
Am I terrible or terrific?
Will my dreams come true?
Am I working to make them come true?

Recently, I find myself to read a lot of Business of Fashion. I mean, I've begun to see this matter from an industrial angle. I want to know what kind of service there is at Ralph Lauren (they pick up and drive their clients home in a BMW with their logo on it), what Saks Fifth Avenue is doing to keep their clients and attract more customers (they'll send a van of a new wardrobe for you anytime), is see-now-buy-now selling? It's like morning coffee for me. I also learn that professionalism doesn't exist in this country. In some way, maybe. But it's not the factor that generates money or maintains a customer's loyalty.

BUT, this 'but' is even better, I and the people around my age are living in an era and in a city where any small-scale business can win a much higher class of customers. You can see the clash of the titans, the rich living among the poor - a chaos for high-end brands but a pool of opportunities for local businesses. The rich that are so rich they shop at Valentino for a purse then visit a Vietnamese designer house for an order of at least five items. The poor that work so hard and hunger for new experiences they save money for a good piece of clothing and never forget to check in.

I love this city. It's so hard to please. The old Paris of Vietnam. Hanoi is where if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere across the country. It always has a taste and four seasons a year. Then again, I'm sure somewhere in Saigon, in a corner like mine, someone is writing the same thing about their city.

So let's work hard, be kind, and let the silence do the talking.

THE CONTEXT OF WHAT.

I don't understand. I don't think I understand the context of love. In fact, I'm sure I've never been in love.

A lot of my relationships were based on total affection. Someone liked the idea of one another's and suddenly we found each other bonded in a relationship. I've never said the three words to anyone. It's easy to speak when the love is real. It's dead mute when it doesn't exist.

However, I'm sure that there were days I loved them as there were also days I chose to love myself more. After a long time of expecting my ideal love to happen, I decided I was done with it. I shortened the time that should have been spent on getting to know the person, demanded straightaway what I wanted, and expressed severe reactions when they couldn't live up to my requests. What I was left with, is now.

Now, I doubt people. It seems difficult to trust the smallest gesture. I find interest in lust, flirting and conversations at night. Lust is lust. It's a one-time thing even if it hits twice. Flirting sounds so not delight, yet the core of the act is it. Conversation is the most important thing. It connects two minds. If I'm not careful, I'll find myself falling slowly.. fast. It'll be impossible to stay sane. That's when I seek for a dark corner and a familiar drink to murder the butterflies in my stomach and erase the feelings that I feel. I can't allow myself to be in love. That destructive thing brings joy to people's life so just one day, it takes away everything they've ever had. The getting-back-to-track life is torture.

I have feelings for someone that's supposed to be an one-time thing. And I also have a dear feeling towards someone I hope to befriend with. Clearly I put myself in troubles in a blink of an eye. I need to speak straight to the first person all at once so I can set myself free. And, I don't know, should I befriend with the second person or not? In my teenage years, boys were problems of hair pulling and unwanted back stickers. In my twenties, guys are butterflies in my stomach and virus to my brain.

Whatever happens, I should thank them for the inspirations to write. For the midnight snacks, warm Earl Grey, and arms when needed.

In my mind, my prince wears suits, or at least a white shirt, has a proper helmet, and reads more than I do. He must be a big fan of animals, and never hesitates to take up a new sport. He cooks and wakes up earlier than me. He likes Wes Anderson and watches Quentin Tarantino. But puts Breakfast at Tiffany's first because I've never watched it and I should. He listens to me and understands my ideas without speaking a word. I must feel truly myself when I'm with him. In short, my prince dresses properly and knows his priorities. I believe what I've stated sounds very funny. Truth to be told, I've always had that idea of him since I was nine or ten.

I saw a man in a suit and a pair of oxfords today driving a Ducati. Needless to say, I was sold. Maybe we'll bump into each other soon. Maybe not. For now, all I can do is staying single firmly and confidently because I'm the best when I'm with myself. I shall let the future be decided in the hands of God.