ad astra

I am Mai, and this blog consists of 0.1% real talk and 99.9% nonsense. Why, I'm not any better than the others—well, except that I couldn't last a day without chewing ice cubes. I like Sir Isaac Newton, the number seven, and macabre stuff. And there's more to know, I guess.

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Waste//Disgrace

<have you ever felt the realization that you know you have a lot of things to share and tell yet you couldn't find the right words to elaborate a single one?> it drives me nuts that i've already been sitting here for like, an hour(?) yet i couldn't even start a certain topic off with a bloody article.

[i'm uninspired]

darn it, univerxe.

had I had -> God-knows-what <- i could have written

numerous stories.

and poems.

had i had this {abstract idea} i'm talking about i could have made something certain for the first time in my fifteen years of existence.

how to tell, how to tell.

and my thoughts—oh woe, for the love of humanity! my thoughts are

nowhere

near

relevant to any of this.

i am a shame. i am a walking disaster.

why is this blog even existing, when i myself couldn't even remember the last time i've spilled out something intelligible for myself and for everyone to set their busy eyes on? *

* more precise question:

self, why do you even </exist?>

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

25th September. My dad woke me up at around one o’clock in the evening only to tell me that my boyfriend will be staying here overnight as he and his friends just got back from a night swimming. I didn’t lay next to him as I went downstairs though—it was too late and I didn’t want to wake him up, seeing as he was having a good night sleep that time.

It was nice seeing him as he slept deeply and soundly.

It was even nicer having him the very first person who woke me up the next morning. Not by a text message nor by the ring of my phone, but personally. You know, with flesh and bones I could sense.

4 o’clock. I felt someone kissing my forehead and trying to wake me up by holding my left hand. Only then did I notice that I accidentally slept on the dining room and he was there, sitting next to the chair that I was sitting in, watching me sleep even though I was in a quite awkward sleeping position. As I woke up, he insisted on letting me do some storytelling from the book I just bought notwithstanding my ugly, hoarse voice.

We then stayed outside and talked and talked and talked. Played childish games and stuff. Walked under the rain even though he was too OC that he wouldn’t even let me go outside without an umbrella. Stuff, stuff, stuff. Rest is history.

[pushthemovement]

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Word.

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Good Grades + Social Life = Sleep Deprived

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Random photos because I can.

I missed our very first Art class meeting because of this one-week review session that we're obliged to attend to. Come to school on or before six o'clock and with at least ten facts and trivia about envi science or receive a demerit—that's the deal. (Unbeknownst to my blog, we'll be joining another regional competition that has Environmental Science as the main focus. To be honest, even though I am a self-proclaimed environmentalist, I don't like Envi Science because THEY ALWAYS FOCUS ON ABOUT SEDIMENTARY ROCKS AND EARTHQUAKES AND PLANTS' REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEM AND ALSO I GET ANGRY ABOUT THE FACT THAT TURRITOPSIS NUTRICULA CAN REGENERATE THEIR CELLS AND LIVE TO INFINITY UGH)

I know I don't deserve joining competitions because as far as I remember, I was in 6th grade the last time I won on such a big event.

Going back to the topic, I suppose Art Class would be quite boring because I don't appreciate Vexel Art as it requires engaging myself in a cruel fight between my eyes and radiation. God forgives you, Henri Becquerel.

Our teacher should have preferred painting and sketching random things over sulking all night long just to polish thousands and thousands of layers of colors on Joakim Noah's face.

Also, one of my review-mates bought his dad's pencil set and sketchbook last Friday, and I swear, it was like the best pencil set I've seen so far. Charcoal, lead, graphite, carbone, and all sorts—OH GOODNESS GRACIOUSSSSSSS.

Someday, self, someday.

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Last Friday I sneaked out from our cheering place at the mall (we sort of cut class to cheer for our bet on a dance competition that was held there) and pulled some of my classmates with me to the bookstore.

I would've bought Lemony Snicket's A Series Of Unfortunate Events until I saw Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark. Out of impulse I bought it because, come on, how many times do you reckon yourself coming across Alvin Schwartz's works on an ordinary store here at this remote area?

My classmates got pretty annoyed at me because I insisted on staying longer inside even though I only planned to buy one book. Such is life. Trying to get a grip on yourself even though half of the human beings don't appreciate the existence of bookstores and libraries.

Anyway, that eery-looking creature (see second photo above) pretty much scared me to death because I was reading this part of the story wherein a priest was trying to talk to this woman, saying: "Who are you? What do you want?" then as I flipped through the next page, this disgusting, loathsome, evil prick appeared out of bloody nowhere, scaring my astral projector out of me.

I need to buy worthier books next time.

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

I swear to Salazar Slytherin, my voice sounds like Miley's voice right now.

On the other note: Hey, my dear blog!!!!!!1 Good news!!!111!!!!1 I'm actually having a life now!!!!!!! Js updatin yeah

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

22th September

He doesn't respond. Even with a low quality of the voice call, all I can sense and hear is his faint, rhythmic sighs and the sound of the static in the background.

But not a distinctive reply. Not even a slightest hint of a word.

I know I've been such a pain in the ass—starting fights and arguments that were either too shallow to waste time on or too deep to be deciphered by a teenager with raging hormones—but I hope someday he'll realize why I act like this, even if it seems as though it doesn't really make sense at all to him.

"Hello," I find myself a bit scared for a response, "you're not drifting off again, are you?" No reply.

Will he be grateful about this? Often have I thought about having a connection between his mind and mine. Well, you know, it is the humans' nature to assume and expect greatly, all the more reason for us to surrender once the voice of the night speak of the truth. But then again I don't have any idea what I'm trying to convey right now.

Constant silence. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 5 sheep. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 10 sheep.

That's it. What's the point of waiting for a godforsaken reply? I hang up. What a great timing to drift off in the midst of an argument.

Much to a coincidence, the digital clock on the phone flashes 11:11 PM. What a stupid excuse for untold wishes and childhood dreams. Crossed fingers and all...

Let's not fight anymore. 

The phone lets out a deafening ring.

"Don't sleep yet," the short message penetrates line by line as I try to read it with my blurred vision and sleepy eyes, "wait for my call." Well, look who just talked.

[atomos]

This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.

Gary Provost

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Waddup.

Wow, it's been decades since I last checked my blog. And apparently it'd been missing out on a lot of fun activities, such as:

I was able to come with my batch for the last field trip of my high school years.

Results came; I only got the 4th place in the class rankings for the first quarter. Up until now I had been so disgusted with myself. Yep. I could have done better!!!!!

I finally got to watch Final Destination 5 (made possible by my boyfriend's pirated copy of the film) and it was quite a success for me since I'd now be able to rub the fact to the faces of those friends of mine who always talk about my being the only person in this world who probably hasn't seen it yet.

Recently we entered this inter-school competition...

But we didn't win. Hahahhehehihihoho

Squirt.

On a bright side, glad to realise I'm actually having a decent life now (if you consider rushing for requirements as decent, then yes I'm actually having it).

Also, have you sensed that I'm not in the mood for blogging? I have to catch up on a lot of events, and that means arguing with time management again. I hate how Earth rotates around its axis.

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them - if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry.

J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 24, spoken by the character Mr. Antolini

[justinpoole]

I have finally figured out all the answers

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

justinpoole:

It has been struggled with so very long but I have managed to see the writing on the wall.  The Underground Icon Justin Poole, all knowing and ever brilliant is here to enlighten all of you!

The reason so many dumb things we post on tumblr receive so much more attention than the things we put a lot of time and effort into is actually really simple.

You know that you have had it happen to you.

You spend an hour writing and rewriting, editing and revising, searching for that perfect metaphor, agonizing over that turn of phrase until it is just perfect.  Then you post it and a day later five people have acknowledged that it even exists.

And then you spend five minutes writing a cheesy love poem or thirty seconds writing some silly little haiku that really means nothing.  Or you attach some overused cliche to a common image and when you wake up the next day this post has been reblogged 5000 times.

The reason these things happen is the same reason that Nickleback sells a million albums, its the same reason they are making a Final Destination part five and it will sell millions of tickets despite the fact that each movie before was god fucking awful, the same reason Tyler Perry is a millionaire.

For the most part people are fucking stupid and they like really stupid things.

The general population is probably around ninety percent morons so why should tumblr be any different?

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

7th September

Guess what my brother brought with him as he got home.

Ta-daa! A mocha cake from my superultramegaJustinBieberhot future husband. AYAYAYAY~

I'd been going on a very rough day, trying to contain myself since morning due to a lot of stressful factors, e.g., field trip, pile of homework, and project, when all of a sudden my brother swung our room's door open and threw a plastic bag on the bed. At first I thought there was a snake or creepy little cockroaches in the box inside it because he was so eager to let me open it, like:

Him: Open it noooooow

Me: IS THAT A SNAKE WTF I DON'T WANT TO

Him: Once I open this this is mine okay *unties the bag*

Me: OMG WHO GAVE THIS? (even though I know who did. lol)

Him: Adrian! Who else? I was with him when he bought that, anyway. I even suggested Ferrero but—

Me: WHY DID YOU NOT TELL HIM TO BUY FERRERO OMG!!!

Him: Bitch that chocolate is too expensive!!! He was asking me earlier: "Toblerone or Ferrero Rocher?" and I said: "Dude, if you're planning to give her Toblerone, buy 3. If Ferrero then make it 5 because that bitch's very picky." then he later said: "Okay, I'll buy her a cake."

Anyway, here is a picture of my brother pigging out on the cake that was SUPPOSEDLY mine:

It was pretty hard taking decent photos of him because he kept on moving and moving and saying: "Do not post my photos on your blog; I might lose my integrity!"

In the end, he had almost eaten three-fourths of the cake, leaving me with a slice. A SLICE.

Him: You are fat don't eat too much

[loveyourquotes]

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Just recently, my skin has gone bonkers. Hives and red bumps started appearing out of nowhere—all the more in my arms, torso, and thighs (see above: a photo of my lovely arms with hideous bumps on the sides). Just as I've concluded that, I've never before had any unknown allergies/skin infections (unless we talk about "Dark Times With A Case Of Scabies" and fake people). Truth be told that I've been bathing myself more in isopropyl alcohol and lots of baby powder than tap water because the rashes sting SO badly, as if my body is being bombarded by millions and millions of red imported fire ant colonies every bloody minute.

Perhaps one of the beds that I've been sleeping in here in my dad's room (yep, my room is too lazy to walk toward me) has a lot of bedbugs underneath the sheets. The thought of ominous bedbugs gang-raping me when I'm asleep makes me want to pass out. Bedbugs are horrible parasites! (On a second thought: Self, everything parasitic is horrible.)

Just in time for the upcoming field trip which involves having direct contact with people in swimming pools. Oh woe, contagious skin infections!

[theswagofmalfoy-deactivated2012]

[destroyhorcruxes-blog]

Alright you guys, he will father my babies.