Here's my card...

I absolutely adore listening to music.  I do admit to talking to myself, but not through words.  I speak to myself by listening to music, depending on whatever mood I'm in, conversations varies.  

I've discovered orchestral/soundtracks a few years ago, and I have been an instrumental music preferred person ever since.  Really, words and lyrics read outloud are just not beautiful sounding... the melody is what makes a song, and a song still good without the impact and power of words is just that much more remarkable.  (although most people would probably disagree with me.. :3 ) 

This is probably where my appreciation for soundtracks come from.  Probably also why I'm not into rap music and death metal anymore (despite those two playing a major role of my angsty teenage years), rap is basically talking, and death metal is the same, only in a batman voice.  (whoever actually reads these silly blogs of mine, I don't mean harm by saying that..! )  

WHICH is probably also where my fascination with accents come from.  Accents do not equate to singing, but because words are pronounced differently from the typical way I am used to, those with accents might as well also call themselves "natural musicians".  Afterall, if I feel like I can listen to you speak for hours without feeling the need to interrupt, I definitely consider you an artist in my books.  I have told a select few people that I love the sound of their voice in my life, and not too many people really think too hard about that compliment, but truly, that is one of the highest praising I can give someone, no matter how weird or creepy it may sound coming out my mouth. 

Why the whole blabbing about why I love listening to music?  Well today Shawhn told me he wanted me to guitar in his meshing of AC2 and AC3 soundtrack, and it MADE MY NIGHT :) :) !!!!!.  Since I adore listening to music so much, playing it is just as incredible.  I seriously cannot wait, I am way too full of joy and happiness.... and sleepiness (as I'm typing this entry late late at night!!!!)

....zzzZZzzzzzzz... 

good night world.

Dream of keyboards and strings.

:3

See How Loyal A Hungry Dog Really Is

You has no idea how much it meant to me when you ran out and followed me to the bus stop.  

I'm still thinking about it.  And it still brings a goofy smile on my face as I type this.

Oh of things I'd never ever expect you to do, this was definitely one of them.  And yet again, I was proven wrong.

Thanks darling.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,

To which time will but make thee more dear.

Happy 11 months my cat! 

The world is cruel, and the only morality in a cruel world is chance.

I recall a story my father frequently used to tell me. 

He would always start this particular story with the same question: Son, do you have faith that everything will be alright?

I remember the first time he told me that story was when my mother had passed away from illness, while I was still a little boy mourning the death of a parent.

And when I would shake my head in between the tears streaming down my face, he would cup my face in his large hands, and force me to look at him, looking at me with his knowing eyes, he would say I was wrong, and that everything will in fact, be alright.  

Here is the story:

It starts with a man.

This man was like any other, let's call him Joe, as he is just another average Joe.

Joe lived his whole life in a helluva city, where life a rat in the sewers was more pleasant than being human.  

You get the picture.

Most would sell their souls to get out of this place as soon as they can, but for Joe, he is so used to the filth he no longer notices it.  

See, Joe's father always told him, "Don't forget your roots," and for Joe, his roots are all planted deep in this city.  Generations and generations dating back to the founding of this city, when it was still a place people believed that was filled with hopes and dreams.  

Unfortunately, that time has passed.  

For Joe, he never got to experience the luscious lands and modern buildings.  When he was born, the city has already rotted, and the beauty that was once casted has made its final curtain call.

Needless to say, growing up was tough for poor ol' Joe.  In a world so crumbled and isolated, it doesn't take much for anybody to snap into insanity.  

You may ask what is insanity?

Well, let's just say police from other departments wouldn't set a foot into this town.  Stories that travel outside the city are often labelled as urban legends.  The place is a sure win for having the most bizarre and twisted criminal cases ever recorded.

Joe had one best friend, and his name was Thomas.

They found each other at the age of 10, when Joe was being mugged by a group of homeless.  Desperate for a decent meal that night, they took out guns and harassed the poor boy until he wet his pants.  

And then Thomas showed up.  He was different than many boys, you see.  Despite his frail size, there was a glimmer of madness in his eyes that made grown men look away with unease.  
It was the eyes of a person who has lost so much that no matter what deed he may do, it will only act as a gain.  

"Go away."  his' voice was rather deep and raspy for a youthful boy.

"Take this, and get out of here."

In Thomas' hand was a bundle of bills.  Though they were old and soggy, it was more money than the muggers have seen all night. 

He tossed them to the side and like hungry dogs, the three grown men charged towards it, completely forgetting about the two boys.

Thomas might have just saved Joe's life that night.  

Of course, it took a while for Joe to learn mysterious Thomas' name.  The boy refused to give his identity upon the several meetings they had.  Why?  Well Joe wasn't too sure. 

"I don't have a name."  was all he said when asked.  

"I'm unsure of who I am, and I know the name my parents gave me does not define me anymore."

Looks like it's better to leave it than to push him for it.  

But in time, the boy revealed himself to be Thomas.  Joe recall a change in voice when the boy whispered his name.  For the first time, Thomas' whimper made Joe see through the brave face that he puts on.


(.... to be continued)

Endure, Master Wayne. Take it.

I have failed.


My heart aches.


I took every precaution there is except the thing that got me is ultimately the smallest thing imaginable.


For the longest time I tried to fix it.  Wash it.  Mend it.  Until both my hands, down to the fingertips, were red and swollen. 


I put everything I could possibly offer on the table.  


I gave it everything.


Blood.  Sweat.  Tears.  and more blood.


I have never worked so hard in my life.


There is no hope.


Life is so unfair.


*Whine whine whine.  


*Grumble grumble.


Okay...
it's back to business as usual.  I'm Lindadada.  I never give up.  No matter how many obstacles are in my way.

Choose between one life or the other

The only thing in the world that can give my chocolate addiction a run for its money is my coconut addiction.

Coconut, pandan, coconut, pandan, coconut

That is pure bliss.

I'm a happy cat.


In other news,
It's been 2 days since the Dark Knight Rises shooting in Colorado.
Everytime I turn on the news, no matter what channel, that story never fails to make headlines.
Where is batman when you need him? 
The killer claimed himself to be the joker. And believes he is living out a movie, and feels no remorse for what he has done.
To the mind of one that is insane, it's curious where the line between fantasy starts and reality ends.  


This story will always bring me sorrow.
My heart goes out to the victims. :'(  
It's a sad sad day when the movie theatre becomes a place of crime.
Batman would be ashamed.

It's about what's fair

i'm so addicted to sweet sauce i can't stop putting it in everything i eat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!