Month: January 2017

arrival: destination 1

‘ello Harperers, sorry for missing a few beats. 

The last couple of days involved much car-parking and walks around new neighbourhood shopping centres for necessities because hey to the yo, finally showered and baby powdered clean at a hotel at my home town, birth home. Whatever that means for you.

As I lie awake 1.56am of a new day I am yet to greet, I just wanted to contemplate on the realness of the song-phrase, “Reunited and it feels so gooood” because people usually associate this with well, people, but I sing this anthem for the roads I used to freely wonder at eight years old; the horrendous yet incredibly skilled driving and drivers; the sounds of pure air-condition, not those weird ones we now call “coolers” or what knows when that happened. 

Upon our descent from a maddeningly dull flight, when the interior plane lights dimmed and the city brightened from above, the thump thump thump, palpitating drum beat of giddy, leché, home struck hard.

For now though, it’s really off to shut these eye gates and lock the imaginations with exhaustion bars. Tomorrow is fully associated with another slice of reunited (old, good friends), and deep, faithful courage in myself and my accented-fluency in the native language of my home soil.

Wish me fried chickens.

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Please indicate your destination

They say East is as far as the West.

Sometimes, certain persons are troubled by quiet roads when you hear nothing but a clutch, a turn, a hiss and whisper, and rubber on asphalt tracks. I wanted to enjoy music, but music, like the uncontrolled, swiftly evaded me.

I travelled quietly and I travelled it well. It was lethargic but I was certain the road will eventually lead me to my destination. I had to turn off the GPS and rely on instinct. Gut. I was rewarded by non-indicating bravado that could have turned a lethargy into an accident. It makes me think: why do most drivers drive as if they are always in a hurry? As if they have an innate desperation to be ahead of someone? Is there power behind the wheels? When you smoke ’em, hun, ‘s the only way out?

Honesty time. There is a sense of accomplishment there, but only when there are two lanes merging into one, you’re both paused at the lights and the green blurs as you rush in, taking their previous spot at a time-trial. You veer off different directions when a few minutes pass but did you ever think about it? That you never really notice their eventual disappearance unless they somehow “follow” you to your destination some lights later?

Cool cucumber, why do I talk about such lame things on the net? Someone should hit me with a Hardcover copy of the Divine Comedy that sits, currently, so still on my shelf. Then perhaps I can talk about how this all relates to Beatrice and whether I have a love that stirs me ever so that I could just perish.

*sighs in Spanish*

origin: greek

My favourite album of 2 0 1 6 was Bon Iver’s 22, a Million –

Oh, the old modus: out to be leading live

Said, comes the old ponens, demit to strive

A word about Gnosis: it ain't gonna buy the groceries

Or middle-out locusts, or weigh to find

It haunts me, it haunts me, it haunted me, I let it in.

The Dante’s of the music spire, atop the tier, legends of the echelon, Bon Iver. They are modern balladeers with extraordinary, time-bending powers that allows us plebeians to appreciate the baroque in an art form gushing from streaming vocalisations and untold mythics of a poet gone mad.

The courts of old bustling, silent near stillness, as the echoes of the lyricists bounces at a trajectory of a worn path walked personally.

You are surrounded.

You are overrun.

act valiantly

Things I joined for this new year, new me sluice:

  • A reading challenge of 50 books for the entirety of the year and since I am currently on my 3rd book now, I say I’m doing dang pretty well.
  • A job agency.
  • Leadership and mentorship wherein I *cue gasp* am said leader/mentor. Ooh to the responsibilities.

Things I want to join for this new year, new me sluice:

  • A daily ping-pong challenge against my dad and beat my cousin-in-law with a flourish and wrist flick.
  • A French language class as an imitation of life and art.

I feel incensed to accomplish more things when I don’t think about it too much. How does that juxtaposition work? This week, my friends and I took a drive down to the furthermost corner of our great state to admire, to walk, to ice-cream, and to carpool karaoke. Arriving home at close to 10pm with a pulled muscle, I valiantly awoke the next day to take my sister (mostly myself) out to the museum. I bought $7 chicken karaage and regretted nothing. Physically, it seemed careless to soldier on. When I look at my parents, however, all content to just be, their sense of adventure dwindling to smoky wisps of invisibility, I feel accomplished to have treaded the ocean-waves on my micro raft than luxury cruise and feel nothing at all.

Dreamer, prisons, wedding

On the 25th of this first month, my long-lost cousin (jokes) is getting married to the love of thine life. Romantic? Getting-married-overseas romantic!

In an effort to appease my vanity for my first gig as a bridesmaid, I have taken advantage of online shopping and the promotional discounts that flood and junk our inboxes for my said gig dress. However, I am still in need of a pair of tropical fresh bathers that will not attract any unwanted sea creatures; scratch-less sunglasses, and an additional two pairs of shorts that will or will not see the dark and tumble of a laundry machine for ten days.

Thinking ahead, it’s a full two weeks of prepping. Emotionally, I’ve been ready since the day the groomsman announced his intentions; physically, I’m seven years behind. Materially, there is room (and parents) to fill out the zero’s. To divide and conquer, I will wear a silicon mask of Emma Watson’s face so I wouldn’t have to worry about things like my face, and I’ve got a full bottle of bug spray for any unwanted blood-suckers. Bye Edward.

I look forward to this headlining celebration since it straddles the line of my ancestral past and my emblazoned present: where I will be in my family line after the wedding, and where I will be afterwards also. It got me thinking:

In a year, I could have travelled to New Zealand, attended a movie premiere in space with a Danish, an American, and a Dutch-Romanian, and bought myself a genuine silver-gold ring just cause. In five, I could be living la dolce vita writing scripts and immersing myself in creative waters that range from ice-cold to Mad Max: Fury Road. In ten, I probably have a book or something and my parents are living on an island somewhere because I think, that’s what they want?

Foregrounded by Antonin Dvorak’s Symphony no. 8 in G-major, it all sounds fanciful, bordering idealistic, to a fevered impossibility. But why doubt such visions? Why implicate yourself in a prison made entirely by your own squandering, defeatist prison?

Have you ever felt like you’re confined in a space of dreams and envisioning a future so far from what your closest peers, and in some cases, family, are currently living in? A good year ago, I was sleeping on an inflatable bed in the living room of my Texan aunt. My family were all here living simply and unvaried whilst I was thinking about what new adventures await me in the winter-not-winter South West. Will I be surprised by their heavy accents? Will I finally visit their version of Costco and compare and contrast like a science graphic?

Are you like me, hoping to return to a limitless life? Or are you settled and content where you are now? Perhaps grow a family, have what you want where you are and leave it at best?

Darryl H. and John O. presents

I promised to present myself to you all so here I am…vaguely.

  1. Harper F.M. should not be referred to by its acronym (HFM) because it sounds too close to H&M and I don’t want to be mistaken for a sweater.
  2. I like a dose of pop culture, sure, so I’ll throw in a couple of seemingly millennial jargon here and there but to be honest, if you’re enjoying life, getting them you should.
  3. Title of post.
  4. North-East North America is an understated verdant masterpiece and I firmly believe that Albuquerque should be a birth stone.
  5. I want to be the Holy Trinity in the Film & TV industry.
  6. I-

There is so much to be said and done and I’m trying to visualise the best way to convey the statistics of an anonymous me. Therefore, I want to begin by stating that every good person deserves a comma. A comma – for every good person – can be a breather to the meteoric pace of life. A comma – for every good person – can be the separation of every negative, positive, and passive items on life’s list. A comma – for every good person – can also represent a new-year-new-you kind of do because you, my friend, if you so will it, can be a widespread butterfly of the Nymphalidae. A mythological god or goddess on this battered earth.

And you don’t even have to be a good person. Like Anakin Skywalker turned Darth Vader, you have good inside you. You just need your only son to believe in you through a fierce fight of the will (edit: colourful swords).

In essence, however, I am not a repository of philosophy and the vogue. I am an explorer of worlds manufactured by the ingenious that is humanity. Hey, that’s you! You ingenious, you. I adore Film and Television and meant what I said with item number 5 (above) and perhaps Harper F.M. will be more of a journalling to my endeavours to achieve this great dream-calling or maybe ’cause I just want to see Meryl Streep play Batman before I fade into inexistence. Whichever comes first.

But visualise this:

A cold city, very hot during Christmas. A child born far away placed geographically beyond her progenitors’ dreams. A cook, at best, and a tireless friend. Books are her paramours, music softens her soul. She has a dream, a B-Obama dream.

So seriously, y’all, bear with me.

’17

In respect to the wishes of my former self, I have diluted my wardrobe into functioning exhibits:

A. The Reds – before, I would look at this streak as something symbolic to everything I missed out on during a thunderous 2 0 1 6. It includes an amount of alcohol I do not regret not drinking coz I am an A+ gal; travelling to New Zealand that should have, could have but will; and choices I made that I agonise over but also feel strengthened from. Red is for blood spilt, blood made.

B. The Navy – I categorise things like finishing novels, vacuuming my room, spontaneously mopping the floor for mum, and using red ink for headings and black/blue for the accompanying paragraphs in this one. I say it’s more “meh” but everyone else thinks it’s extraordinarily good. Meh…

C. The Coats – I appreciated culture and the arts much more last year than I ever did in the past. I wrapped myself all snug in spontaneous trips to the theatre in howling, fierce weather, I bossed people around (creatively), and I almost fell in a river. This one’s my favourite.

D. The off-shoulders – I look at this and see 2 0 1 7. It’s a trip to space, to castles with Beasts, to attend 4 WEDDINGS of friends same age as moi (*noises*), and an elaborate plan to surprise my parents for their 25th wedding anniversary. Which –

involves me searching for a full-time job that alludes to my interest and passion and expenses. Oh, adventurous beauty.

Till next time ! – when I talk about who am I, where I come from and what I mean by “passion”. Ugh, such an overused word.