Lost In Translation

I'm in a serious state of limbo right now. Not one to be kidding with.
I am naked; stripped bare and left unclothed.
I am in a transition between what was and is to come. And in between, I am lost.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to my beloved C-4040.

She has served me well for the past 4 years and more. Sure, we've had our ups and downs. But we've rose together triumphant over every odd the world had thrown against us.

Yet, a new season is to come. While the old shall now retire, a new generation, nay, breed - shall rise to the occassion when called. A new ally. A new sidekick. A new friend.

But until that day comes, I'll have to wait. With patience and with meditation.
32 days left before the arrival of the new breed.
768 hours to zero-hour.
I am waiting by the breath.

I just wanna listen to some rock music right now.
Turn off the lights and shut the blinds.
Experience total darkness and know what it feels like to be blind.
'Cause I don't wanna see. Don't wanna have to process too much in my head.
And explode.
Yea. That'd be cool.

Ever had that feeling? Where you just wanna burst but you don't know where to start. And you don't even know why?
Maybe it's the frustration. Or maybe it's simply the restlessness. Either way, you're not content. You can't sit still, yet neither do you want to move a muscle.
I want silence yet I want loud noises. I want to be alone but I can't stand the thought of it. I can't decide and that's where I stand for the while. Unfortunately, it's a long while.

Maybe it's emptiness.
Maybe it's the lack of a relationship with God. Maybe it's the questions I know of the answers already, yet I simply don't do.

Right now. I just want to curl up like a millipede in my dark room and turn the music up.
That or hang out with my buddies back home. Let it be the jyg or my buddies from school. Then I know what life's like again when it's normal. When there's nothing to worry about. When life is full. Somehow only they can keep me going. Not many other people in the world like them.

Till then.

So I was down at Melbourne Central yesterday and I needed to have some passport-sized photos taken. What they had there was this photobooth, very much like those Japanese-jeng ones except that it didn't really have those flowers or stars appear mysteriously around you when you take them pics. The thing was, not only did it look dodgy as nobody ever uses it (at least it feels like nobody ever uses it), they had poor instructions on how to use the bloody machine. And guess what. It costs me a lousy $7.00 for 4 of those photos! Talk about daylight robbery!

But nevermind. So there I was, armed with 4 $2 coins, ready seated in a dimly-lit booth on a chair that could barely hold me still. I read the instructions which told me to:
1) Choose a background.
2) Adjust seating to preferred height.
3) Insert coins.
4) Look straight into the screen and wait for four flashes.
5) Wait for 3 minutes before the photos are developed.

But:
1) There were no backgrounds to choose from. There wasn't a touchscreen for me to use with animated displays - only a black, dark screen in front of me. And on my back (giving it a handicap; maybe it's got cardboard borders I could use) was nothing but a white, dimly-lit screen.
2) There was no lever. I had to 'screw' the chair in and out. And maybe this was my fault, but I didn't notice a little silver plaque by the side of the screen which said 'Eye level'.
3) I inserted my four $2 coins. And as anyone could magically guess, that would equate to $8.00. A dollar on top of the actual cost of taking the photos. Unfortunately, the machine couldn't calculate that. So there I was, waiting for my dollar change to roll out of the lower coin slit and it just never seem to want to roll out!

Then suddenly...

*FLASH!
What the...
*FLASH!
Crap!!!
*FLASH!
*FLASH!

NOOO!!!! My $8.00!!

Talk about quick reflexes...

December 17:

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I love the noise.

The French has recently been considered to be one of the most well-informed nations in the world within its community. Their men especially. Well, how hard is it to disagree when they have Melissa Theuriau as their leading Anchorwoman?

Crowned to probably be the hottest lady to hit the news screen, it's no wonder people everywhere across France are tuning in to their evening news ever so frequently now. In fact, dozens of cities across the U.S. now are signing petitions in order to get her to read the news at their local network station. Not that they'd understand her, anyway. But who cares.

Try googling her. No, not with your eyes. I mean this. There is NO way you can find anything solid about her except her pictures, videos, fantasies, and petitions.
Not that we're complaining anyway now, are we?
But yea. No bio. No actual news (which is really, what she's about... or is it?). No nothing.

So whoever said that news was boring?
The French certainly didn't...

This has been something I've noticed for a while already, but was only reminded recently during a trip to a certain Asian grocery store which I shall not mention its name but happens to be located in QV at the corner between Russell Street and Jane Bell Lane with it's name sounding very similiar to Lacuna Inc. as of that in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

It's a pudding. But it's not any normal pudding. It's a confused pudding. A confused pudding in the most awkward of issues.

Its gender.

Okay. For those of you who may not understand, the word "pondan", as of the brand, means "transvestite" in Malay. In other words, to put it bluntly, the pudding is GAY!!

We've got gay puddings on our grocery store shelves! How weird is that?? I don't know WHAT "pondan" means in Indonesia (as the brand of the pudding is an Indonesian brand), but shouldn't it be the same? Apparently not, I guess.
But still they taste pretty good. Well, at least their brownies do.

Hey, gay brownies. That almost sounds racist as well.