The Looking Glass

All that you are is all that you know.

But if all that you know is nothing,

then you should stop wondering why you loathe yourself.

It's too easy and unsympathetic a habit to weave,

because nobody is your friend in that world.

The saddest part is that many of you do not resurface.

The saddest part is that between us, we aren't that different at all.

Under the cover of darkness, a glimpse.

Story of An Artist
Daniel Johnston

Listen up and I'll tell a story
about an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
others aren't so bold

And everyone in friends and family
saying, "Hey, go get a job
Why do you only do that only
Why are you so odd?

We don't really like what you do
We don't think anyone ever will
It's a problem that you have
And this problem's made you ill."

The artist walks among the flowers
Appreciating the sun
He's out there all his waking hours
Oh, and who's to say he's wrong?

But the artist walks alone
And someone says behind his back
"He's got some gall to call himself that
He doesn't even know where he's at."

And they sit in front of their tv
Saying, "Hey, isn't this a lot of fun?"
And they laugh at the artist
Saying, "He doesn't know how to have fun."

Listen up and I'll tell a story
About an artist growing old
Some would try for fame and glory
Others like to watch the world.

******

Vincent O'Brien
M. Ward

He only sings when he's sad
and he's sad all the time so he sings the whole night through
Yeah, he sings in the daytime too

He only dreams when he's sad
and he's sad all the time so he dreams the whole night through
Yeah, he dreams in the daytime too

There may be mermaids under the water
There may even be a man on the moon
But Vincent, time is running out
You better get yourself together soon

Out of Buffalo, the man
Below the belt he swung, and then after the bell has rung
Another cheap shot, here it comes

He only laughs when he's sad
and he's sad all the time so he laughs the night through
Yeah, he laughs in the daytime too

There may be mermaids under the water
There may even be a man on the moon
But Vincent, time is running out
I hope you get yourself together soon

I hope you get yourself together soon.

Morning Interlude

Rainy mornings make for soggy attitudes.

Perang

Langit runtuh, bumi cair.

Aku turut binasa.

What's In A Name

Names are interesting entities in their own right. They provide identity and individuality for the alive and inanimate. But by far the most interesting feature of a name is its origin and meaning. It’s almost always nearly fun to discover that your name traces back to, say, a famous ancient Mesopotamian weaver, or Gengis Khan’s personal boot polisher (almost because you don’t want to end up like this poor kid). And in a world where the global population keeps bursting beyond the 6 billion estimate, it must be pleasant to know that you’ve got unexpected namesakes that bond you together regardless of whether you’re destined to meet in this life.

Without further ado (a.k.a. I can’t sleep although I feel like it, I’m bored as my grandmother is asleep but likes me to accompany her in the same room, I can’t think of anything else to blog about tonight and because what I say must go sometime, damnit), I present to you today’s trivia: the meaning of my name (as far as I understand) and some of my interesting namesakes.

The first part of my name, Nur, is a common Arabic word meaning ‘light’. Ilyanna is a bit trickier to dissect, as there doesn’t seem to be a direct match for this name in Arabic. To keep to an Arabic context, I assume that Yanna (also a Russian name that is pronounced the same way but spelled as Janna) is a derivation of Liyana. Both generally mean ‘soft/gentle/slender in character’. When separated from the second half of the name, ‘Il-’ becomes a prefix meaning something like ‘such/amat (in Malay)’. Hence, Nur Ilyanna loosely translates to: ‘Such slender light/Cahaya yang amat lembut’.

All credit goes to my dad for giving me a pretty name, although I don’t seem to be living up to its expectations. :/

Fun namesakes I’ve discovered over the years (please take note, Yanni jokes are ANCIENT and out-of-date):

• In Buffy: Jenny Calendar @ Giles’ lady love @ sexy librarian @ well-intentioned Romanian gypsy was in reality named Janna, pronounced Yanna.
• In the Marvel universe: Illyana Rasputin is the real name of superhero and X-Men member Magik, who unfortunately was killed off in the comics years ago. She had the power to teleport herself and others through time and space by creating special “stepping discs”.



• In Star Wars: Yanna is a planet famous for being a commercial and trading port.

Honorary mentions:
I’m also a Canadian theatre actress, a number of Russian athletes, a French cabaret singer/actress, and...a boot? *sweatdrop*

Folks, do send in your own name meanings as well. If you’re not sure about it, I highly recommend that you do some research. Not only is it a bit of light in dark times, but it also gives you clues about yourself, given that you take the time to analyze it well.

My Bright Lights

My Bright Lights

An Indian family dressed in shades of red, yellow, green, blue. Bursts of brilliant colour amidst the dull grey sheen of rain outside.

An impossibly adorable baby boy sitting quietly next to me on his mother's lap, excitedly patting my handbag, luggage and wrist.

The smile on my significant other's face when he spots me across a crowded room.

These are the bright lights of my day.

I hope you all have had yours today. :)

In Memory of Lost Things

I read John Connolly's "The Book of Lost Things" last week. Some of my friends say it's incredibly dark and gruesome, but I just think it's an incredibly sad tale, and that feeling's still with me now. Reading the story made me think of my own childhood, and all the innocence I unknowingly lost over the years during random encounters with the perverse and the warped, the evil and the heartless. It makes me sad that when children grow up, they must lose themselves along the way, when there is no guarantee that every one of them will emerge as whole adults. It's necessary, but it's too sad to watch especially in these times, when mindless violence and death are considered entertainment.

Then I think about how much thicker the shadows fall over this world with each year, one for each child. How parents cannot let children out of their sight for even a second for fear that they will be taken away, how those with the kindest faces wear the most terrible of masks, how those with the most honeyed of words commit the worst of sins. What a beautiful heartache it must be to be a parent, to love and protect your child from the Loups and the cowardly kings, the hunters and the Crooked Men of this world.

To the little girl that I once was, I'm sorry that I lost you. I would like to say that I miss you, but the truth is that I no longer remember what it was like being you. We are too separate from each other now, two distinct beings. All the same, I'm sorry for everything I did that killed you and turned you into me.

*Thank you to creativematrix for the picture: The Place of Lost Things

Who Broke Your Spirit?

Half of the time, I manage to overlook the negatives and remember that it is my duty as a human being to love and obey you, no matter what. But each time I try to, the other half comes rushing back, the half where I remember why I despise my situation so much.

After all these years, I should know better. I should just keep my mouth shut, and not say anything more than is necessary. But I do it anyway, because I keep hoping I will get to know you, and that we can be closer.

But we never reach that mark. Not even close. Instead we push ourselves further away from each other. Like ice sweating furiously under the onslaught of fire. But never willing to melt.

Someone asked me the other day how I went from being a bubbly, tune-loving kid to the quietest of souls. "What broke your spirit?" she asked. She was joking, but I thought of you.

Did someone break your spirit the way you broke mine? Was it him?

That makes two of us.

There is too much fire underneath this dormant exterior. Even then I think it isn't enough. No matter what I do or say, I'm never good enough for you. I guess I never will be.

You'll never read these words or know how I feel. After all, you already know everything.