Just Extend A Hand… A Clenched One

An incident occurred recently that I so annoyingly hate to recall. Let’s keep the story short. Me and my girlfriend decided to head down to town for some decent photography of DECENT people. My girlfriend was attempting, and I repeat, ATTEMPTING, to take this shot of this Indian man probably in his late 50s or 60s. But when she finally decided the shot wasn’t worth taking, that motherfucker of an Indian (I’m not racist), walked up to my girlfriend and spat at her. Yes. One big fucking load of spit. I’ll spare you the details of what ensued from here on out, but the bottom line is, I DIDN’T PUNCH THAT FUCKER. I was sorely tempted to connect his face with my fists, but the sight of a 20 year old beating the living daylights out of an elderly dog wouldn’t do me any justice. I regretted my choice. No one fucking spits at anyone just for pointing the camera in their fucking direction. No one. And especially if it is my girlfriend you’re spitting at, douchebag! Spitting. Come on, it’s fucking degrading and humiliating. Not to mention, disgusting as hell! Don’t worry, I won’t be feeling guilty for not doing anything to defend my girlfriend’s dignity. It’s not because I’m some heartless loser of a boyfriend. It’s just that there won’t be a next time. And if there ever was, there will be hell on earth. Quoting Tom Cruise (Tropic Thunder): “I’m talking about a scorched earth, motherfucker! I will massacre you! I WILL FUCK YOU UP!”

Oh, and to that sad scum of an Indian (and I’m still not racist), you better pray you won’t meet me again.

Ending off my angsty post, I leave you with a quote:

“Too often, we lose sight of life’s simple pleasures. Remember, when someone annoys you it takes 42 muscles in your face to frown, BUT, it only takes 4 muscles to extend your arm and bitch-slap/roundhouse punch that mother fucker upside the head.”

PS: I’m a nice guy. It’s just all these fuckers that bring out the devil in me.

It Don’t Matter If You’re Black Or White

~

I miss playing you.

I miss delicately ‘fingering’ you.

I miss pouring out my soul to you.

And most of all, I miss banging on you.

Oh, I miss you so baby…

My dear piano.

~

I’ve been neglecting my piano of late. What with all the times I come back home late, only to spend the last ounce of energy dragging my lifeless sack up to my bedroom.

Besides my girlfriend, close friends, and my Miniature Schnauzer, my other best friend would have to be my piano. It’s always there to let me hammer away when I’m feeling all that angst ride up in me like a storm. When I’m drowned out by all the misery that stock piles at my doorstep, it becomes my sweet escape. It’s just as they say it, “Music soothes the soul“. My only regret, when I’m tinkling on those black and white keys, is that I cannot play it better. I’ve always regretted on not continuing with my improvisation classes, and those times when I couldn’t give two hoots about my theory lessons. Such a pity. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a better pianist.

To me, playing the piano is not about all those exams and grades. It’s all about playing the piano for what it is worth – pure bloody entertainment! It’s not about who gets a higher grade than you, or who is able to get a diploma. Playing the piano has only one soul purpose – to entertain, or to be entertained.

As my mother always reminds me, “Life is like a piano. What you get out of it depends on how you play it.”

Over & Out.

Change

The holidays are over and the new semester has finally kick started. I was starting to look forward to school until I chanced upon the most inexplicably outrageous timetable that didn’t match with most of my classmates – yes, we got split down the middle and got thrown into the mix with the other class from last semester. A horrid blasphemy. ‘Nuff said.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not in the same class with my girlfriend. Maybe it’s because I miss the times when T1A2 was always doing cool stuff together.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe I’m just afraid of change.

Too long have I deceived myself of this fear. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve felt this conflicted. Come to think of it, I’ve been experiencing it since… forever. I’ve experienced this fear before and during my time in Australia, the army, and even now. The thing about my past experiences is that I somehow manage to pull through all the mess, never failing to finally get accustomed to what’s been thrown at me. But change is constant. Every time I get too comfortable with my current situation, I get plucked out from it, and I get dumped into a completely foreign territory. It’s this nagging feeling of uncertainty. Feeling so helpless, unfamiliar, lost, and alone. The knowledge that I have to relive this predicament every single time, is eating away at my insides. What a load of bollocks.

But what is Life without change? Life is all about taking the next big step forward. I shouldn’t hold back from the edge anymore. I’m not going to just dip my toes in. This time is all about taking the plunge. To dive in headfirst into the abyss of uncertainty. To make that first step. Life’s rite of passage, or so they say.

Let’s face it. Change is inevitable. They say I got to set a path. Now’s the time to walk the path.

“Faith is taking the first step, even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

Cheers.