tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59816867221959239552024-03-06T01:13:37.036-08:00A Daily Observation: RebornStep into my mind...Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-10915339507234699182011-04-29T23:07:00.000-07:002011-04-29T23:07:08.050-07:00This is where I've been wrong.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Everything would feel numb right now. Any hope I had in redemption, or freedom, whittled away with the choices I made. So what now?<br />
<br />
I've lost you in so many ways than one. Much deserved from the events of the this month.<br />
<br />
I guess...it's better to have to stop it this way. To stop loving, and forget it all. To actually let it all go, like I said I stupidly wanted. I wanted to tell you, that I loved you. That somehow I wanted to run back to you. That for some stupid reason, I'm more in love with you for everything. That I lost everything.<br />
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But in all, this is the bed I will lie in. I'll close whatever I feel. I'll let you go. It's been the choice that was determined from the beginning.<br />
<br />
Ha. The thought of it is numbing and hurtful.<br />
<br />
But thats the way it is. I've been wrong to ever think otherwise. Or in any case, wrong to have acted the way I've been, treated you the way I've treated, felt what I have felt, fought when I should have, been worthier than shit.<br />
<br />
Let all come in the way it should. Laugh it away, smile with the world because it laughs at you.<br />
<br />
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</div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-36154075047260298122011-04-25T14:26:00.000-07:002011-04-25T14:33:14.623-07:00Deja Vu.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yet again, as history implies, the wants are exaggerated and blind. I learn now that whatever has been done was made on such confusion, such blindness and exaggeration that I can't believe I've done so. There's so much I could tell you on what I feel right now, about what my hearts constant changing wants and needs, as if nothing apart from me really matters. Probably you'd be the only one who could understand it all. But still, forgive me for the indecency or the disrespect of it all.<br />
<br />
Foolish as it is, I didn't learn from past mistakes. What did I garner to expect? What did I really want? From my choices? Sigh. Sadly, it gives me more reason to take this way. Maybe one day, when all is okay, you can ask about this, if you ever read it. And I'll tell you and maybe you'd understand a bit more. Maybe even then, everyone would understand a bit more.<br />
<br />
I apologize to 'you' as well, for bringing you into all this simply because of me. For being rash and stupid too. For thinking too much and thinking too less, for doing what I did, and feeling what I feel and adding myself to your problems.<br />
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So then, goodnight to all, and all a good night, or what's left of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-88667921469328220332011-04-25T13:23:00.000-07:002011-04-25T13:23:02.765-07:00Cold Rebirth.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">An interesting night this may be. Loneliness runs rampant and I've thrown out all unwanted and old clothes out. A reinvention of the sorts.<br />
<br />
That sounds good.<br />
<br />
It'll be the day, where I will be better and improved, reincarnated. No longer will I lie unnoticed, unattended and unwanted. Heads will turn. I will be someone. No longer in the shadows.<br />
<br />
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</div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-82270461804299635482011-04-25T08:29:00.000-07:002011-04-25T08:29:33.857-07:00Odd Humor.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hNof2asNN0HGBqF68Jw0Kui4dYgiMFba3qVUvaIv4790Sxn8KghiwaSdLWZKvfm1EmexoHQlwYGVYAcJyFpH0dsj2323uBm1BUn4C44c0hSwhPz6BRI15Ha5aOdsk3ccHce8OWw6h98/s1600/217284_10150159584367607_610842606_6805187_4932238_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hNof2asNN0HGBqF68Jw0Kui4dYgiMFba3qVUvaIv4790Sxn8KghiwaSdLWZKvfm1EmexoHQlwYGVYAcJyFpH0dsj2323uBm1BUn4C44c0hSwhPz6BRI15Ha5aOdsk3ccHce8OWw6h98/s320/217284_10150159584367607_610842606_6805187_4932238_n.jpg" width="297" /></a></div><br />
I'd always like to think my life was like a sitcom. Haha. I'm Ross now? </div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-85208779173563973322011-04-25T08:25:00.000-07:002011-04-25T08:25:08.871-07:00This is our Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPAMxuiH8-Yo3TjOIbMS82X913d7d7_lbzHz7dFX0xHUhAvYpmZWaR6MHF3THJi5tXEjYmtZ-vMPLhNXaXX0UVgDIMoafd-lOfbkpO8vTP4OKKD5xfdgKSypECezHodcG41KIz049Pak/s1600/224228_10150560149730467_627055466_18164843_5692535_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPAMxuiH8-Yo3TjOIbMS82X913d7d7_lbzHz7dFX0xHUhAvYpmZWaR6MHF3THJi5tXEjYmtZ-vMPLhNXaXX0UVgDIMoafd-lOfbkpO8vTP4OKKD5xfdgKSypECezHodcG41KIz049Pak/s320/224228_10150560149730467_627055466_18164843_5692535_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
</div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-23252414247638361402011-04-25T07:45:00.000-07:002011-04-25T07:45:01.992-07:00Understanding.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">One day, all of us will think about these days in life and understand everything. No more confusion, hate, or pain. One day. </div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-47355479425168243072011-04-25T07:18:00.000-07:002011-04-25T07:47:39.674-07:00Burn.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I will try to be vague as much as possibly for the delight of anyone who reads this so it may be confusing, scarce and ill-positioned. <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I hate it all. I hate it that it should all burn. I should burn. All done by by choices made that put me in place like the sands of time. I wasted and gave up on love, put up for life of liberty and freedom supposedly, so I may venture and be willing in any form of temptation or desire. That I wanted the other and not the love. Its stupid. It all is. Every bit of it.</div><div><br />
As much as I think it, even if things are said to be okay, I don't know if it'll ever really be. I've lost love even while in love, wanting else wise while wanting love. I try to ease the heart and say it'll be fine. I'll learn how I am, I'll find my damn self and be free and learn to love love again. But still, why do I have to feel so ready, why do I have to feel okay? I've lost love and I've lost the other. Its not that I want anything. Its not that I want love from the other. I just don't know. I just hate how I can be so unrestricted, so devoid of a barrier, so unrelenting. </div><div><br />
</div><div>So love knows everything, down to the choice I make, the reasons why, and the things I did right after with the Other. The other knows of what I did with love, and will wallow in thinking of being of fault and cause. More mayhem of honesty and the choices made. </div><div><br />
I don't know how I feel anymore. About love, about other, about me. Its funny. I can't write because I'm too lazy to go get the diary in the car to wallow the thoughts. What do I want? What do I need? What am I looking for? Why leave everything for nothing and anything?</div><div><br />
</div><div>People will hate me, people will look down upon me for all this. I know it, and it's started. What words I said, will be lies, what promises be made, will be empty. What hope, will be contempt. Its an endless destruction of something I don't even know whats is. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I just won't know and learn. Forgive me Love, Forgive me Other, Forgive Myself. </div></div>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-49228774373986019982010-11-15T08:12:00.003-08:002010-11-15T08:12:56.863-08:00The Bangkok Experience - 002Tag lines of prostitutes: I Know You! I Miss You! Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-18906211444557529182010-11-15T08:09:00.000-08:002010-11-15T08:10:18.697-08:00The Bangkok Experience - 001<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" ft="'{"><span class="messageBody">An African prostitute approaches and reaches for my arm, and I say "Don't even think about it".</span></h6>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-26010603702142675202010-11-08T12:08:00.000-08:002010-11-08T12:22:18.259-08:00Hot & ColdAnother not yet sleeping night. Close your eyes and open ears and you'll hear everything. Rants, accusations, excuses, apologies and sheer determination. This is what one is forced to revel with every silent night. <br /><p>Everyday coming home, hoping for some semblance of hope that they've sorted their values or open their eyes to each other's problems, seemingly at first, till the doors close. It's all a facade, a tiring tireless facade that knows no bounds. Who's in the wrong here? Is there really infidelity between them? Is he really so darn promiscuous to even try? Or even brave? If so, where does he have the time? All he does is loiter at home, no friends and no family. Who has he to see and when? A five minute phone call relationship that goes no where? Who the hell would even try to cheat with a married man with that? He's not even a rich man for pete's sake. <br /></p><p>It's ridiculous. Who to believe? She's rampant as ever, accusing on little details that may or may not be true. A voice recorder that says a murmur that's definitely a woman, picking up his lady friend on the way to work, how is even that possible?! The pure stubbornness of it all, to demand to be right, to be content and determined there could be no other explanation, is sheer stupidity and hell. </p><p>Honestly, one doesn't know what to believe. Siding with one means wronging the other. It's unbelievable. If one accuses, relay the facts, bring it out and get to it. Don't accuse and believe, ruining your own hearts. It's as if she wants it to be true. It's as if he can't really do anything to prove it. It's like being on opposite sides of a canyon, trying to reconcile without creating a bridge. How the hell is the upcoming vacation going to be enjoyable, Who knows?</p><p>Well there goes to being role models for love and marriage. Way to live life, folks. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-59309428593541576722010-11-03T12:52:00.000-07:002010-11-03T13:16:10.928-07:00Love's Quarrel<p><em>Of nights like these, thoughts wander the endless plains of matter</em></p><p><em>Composing, dreaming and bearing reality out of heart's desires</em></p><p><em>having written while love sleeps,</em></p><p><em>words left unsaid while love dreams.</em></p><p><em>The writer wanting words said than written,</em></p><p><em>forgiven and not forsaken</em></p><p><em>as words lose matter and being while eyes lie open</em></p><p><em>An excuse for the forgotten, unfulfilled. </em></p><p><em>May I greet my loved one tonight,</em></p><p><em>Love lies unforgotten, forever loved and wanted.</em></p><p><em><br /></em></p><p>- End -<em><br /></em></p><p>And as a writer writes, forgive me my loved one. For everything that's been unsaid and untouched, will be repaid in love and patience. Sleep well tonight. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-64044431719785526622010-11-03T12:28:00.000-07:002010-11-03T12:46:26.796-07:00A Nightly Might<p>Hmmmm. </p><p>Not asleep yet as it seems, doesn't feel right. Oh well, not that there's much to do anyways at this time. Took my dearly beloved to sleep (sounds deathly wrong), a wish goodnight and a sweet dream here and there and off she went to briskly walk upon wonderlands of noir weirdness that she is so accustomed to. I'll join you soon. </p><p>Not much gravitas in the online world either, the usual line up of sites are all checked and abused, read and complete. I've drawn something the other day and upped it on <a href="http://kkal.deviantart.com/#/d323aug">DA </a>. But what else?</p><p>Let's see, exams are coming up next week. Not so difficult as proposed to be, simple matter of click this, click that and viola! (Computer based exams, future here I come!) A week after that, tripping with family to Thailand for a week, coming back to go to Philippines in December. An exciting two months this will be! Not to mention, expensive!</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Forgive the line break over there, just wanted to break away from personal and go more thought-like as we say. What would be a proper topic? Keep that for the next post, for it'll deserve it's own. </p><p><br /></p><p>Keep bright readers. </p>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-18931032482935306992010-10-30T11:31:00.000-07:002010-10-30T11:48:47.095-07:00The Weekend of the SickEnter naysayers and despair! The blog titles sounds like a George Romero movie (If you don't know who that is, shame on you) . Anyways, started the weekend with the cough, ending it with a flu. Tit for tat, I suppose. So what happened during the weekend? Let's try and recap!<br /><br />Thursday saw to it, to another work-filled day of airport duty and reporting, followed by going to the bank. The bank decided not to have my salary, so I'm forced to be penniless (not exactly) and have a negative balance on my bank account. I didn't even think that was possible for a savings account! I'm looking at you BBK! Anyways, had to deposit my cheque so perhaps Sunday morning will prove prosperous. Classes was a dull as always, at that slow pace. Not much of a challenge. The usual night out was something-something in a way. Not to be direct in certain relations to people but a certain R. and H. were most meek and sleepy at TC's that night. Thinking that casual-ness ain't what it seems. Where's the fun and spark? But who am I to judge eh?<br /><br />Friday did'nt seem all that different either for the missing anti-bodies. Stayed home while Faisal decided to drop by. Gamed all day, despite being sick. I think I prove myself worthy of the Gladiator title with the PS move than when I'm not sick. Was relayed a message of salvating our friend in need, Miss Shei, out of certain OP contempt but how was we to salvate if t'was not a call to us? Course, it was directed at Mr. R, but we, the bearers of vehicles, were not informed. So thats to that, I ended up watching Faisal play virtual volleyball. Bouncy.<br /><br />Saturday. Sick still, anti-bodies probably still in pursuit. Slept late the previous night, couldn't for some dog-gone reason. Stayed home to rest, watched Big Bang Theory and missed out on class. Too sick and bothered to drive so ah, forget it. Now resting the night away, and after a while before I go to bed, I'll snuggle away with a certain loved one (albeit virtually) and whisk off to the dream world once again till my anti-bodies actually catch the damn virus and cure me of all this misery. Maybe I should employ NCIS as my anti-body? White Cell Jethro Gibbs reporting for duty (TV reference, forgive me, loony :) ).Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-67367858623252289722010-10-26T10:33:00.000-07:002010-10-26T10:47:25.618-07:00Belief<p><em>Belief: The mental act, condition, or habit of placing trust or confidence in another.</em></p><p>Don't you think the above word proves to be one of the strongest things in humankind? Belief as a stand-in for hope coincide together. It makes mankind survive, wish, determine and abolish what the world needs doing. But belief is a two-edged sword. As with religion, beliefs cause conflict. As with morals, cause conflicts. But tonight, I speak of a conflict that hit closer to my life than most. <em><br /></em></p><p>I speak on a personal note of a couple known to me that proves much hurt and despair to those who live around and revolve. Based on love to be expected and grounded, one thinks its impenetrable as is pure. But growing up shows a different side of a so-called love you knew and actually was. Ah funny isn't it? How words of doubt in a woman's mind can cause paranoia and insanity. Whether true or not, does not matter. If it infidelity did occur, all fine and dandy, but if it did not, then it should have occurred! That's a type of belief that broods out of stubbornness. Where would I be to comment on such things? Support the belief with hand-handed evidence, and wishful paranoia? Where am I to stand when you two argue and claim one is right, forever right and only right? I wish the infidelity stays a ruse in the mind, but where to support? Support the woman and say it's true even when you wish it's not? Or support the man and hope for the opposite? God knows wherever I side, I will be tried for treason. </p><p>Banal hearings of arguments like lawyers feasting for blood on repeat. It's disheartening on what you think your beliefs in love is. Wallow in the examples set before you, damn sure. </p><p><br /></p>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-58143927196790869992010-10-24T13:24:00.000-07:002010-10-24T13:41:04.569-07:00A StartLet's try and see what goes on in tonight's mind shall we?<br />There's not much going on currently on the wonderful island of Bahrain, as usual. Life comes to a standstill at most, with nothing to do but to mall and the stagant night life. But as long as one lives, one lives. Seek enlightenment and spontaneousity, with an added dash of pleasure and modesty will bring you to a happy life.<br />As much as one goes out at night, there's not much to it but the drink. It's an open experience really, a window to step out of the normal. Stand by and watch people converse and move and ebb like a river, people moving like gears, making talk and the less finer points of used love but in any case, fun to observe. There's no sense in getting drunk, but in a rash, wreckless way, it's an experience, a sense of euphoria. But then again, it just all makes it sound alcholic which is a given.<br />But that what makes life interesting. It's restrictions and inhibitions. Living on the lines you perceive them to be, fluanting them when you break your own self made rules, and knowing you'd get away with it. Or it could be the other way around. Sigh, boring random rambles but random topics don't you think?<br /><br />But in any case,<br /><br />Live the way you want, smile, with a nice glass of wine toasting the nights of Bahrain for a life well living.Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5981686722195923955.post-44731704508870583462010-10-24T12:56:00.000-07:002010-10-24T13:04:26.925-07:00An Opening Thought<p>Countless times, one would be forsaken to repeatedly try on blog after blog, attempting to aim for something not much understood. </p><p>What would it be? I don't know. </p><p>But perhaps it's a passing fancy of claiming to have one, or having an outlet for random rampant thoughts or to seek clarity through popularity? One wouldn't know. </p><p>There are times where a person either surrounded or alone, can never claim to say or describe the feelings of the moment and perhaps maybe this is why I started this all over again. So words left unsaid can be said, and thoughts never thought out actually thought out. </p><p>Let us see if this will continue on further, but perhaps I should always leave a blog like open just in case for the words left unsaid. </p>Kalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15352699125592816355noreply@blogger.com0