How I ruined The Dark Knight Rises

***contain spoilers***

When I first got my car, I was in the mood to decorate it so it wouldn't be that crappy. So I took my Justice League mini dolls and place them on the dashboard. I was stupid, poor Green Lantern almost became a blob with the heat we faced in UUM.

The arrangement of the dolls often changed. My friends, depends who have the sticky hand, would always put Superman or the Martian Manhunter upfront of the V formation. For me, it was always Batman. So as you might as guess, I could not wait for what Mr Nolan had installed  for the trilogy.

I was excited. Bouncing up and down in line for the tickets. Rambled on and on how I cannot wait till midnight so we can watch the movie, while my sister rolled her eyes. Took pictures of the tickets, whatsapp-ed it to Min with a lot of smiley faces and she in turn rolled her eyes too. Then comes midnight, I marched into the cinema with this big fat grin even though I was denied of my popcorn! So yeah, ecstatic.

So this movie, that was probably gonna be the only highlight in this God awful months of unemployment ends up meh. Why? Because I predicted too much.

There was a scene where Alfred said how much he wanted to look up and see Wayne and other half happy, and I said to myself that is gonna be ending scene. Guess what, it was!

Even when Miranda came up in the picture, getting it on with Wayne, I predicted that she was bad news, probably link to Bane. And she was! All the time when they trying to figure out who ratted them out, I was pointing to her.

That climb Bruce Wayne had to take to get out of the prison, I whispered to my sleeping brother that he had to not use the rope to get out. And yep, I was right.

When Batman was in the flying contraption, and he said no auto-pilot, I said bullshit. He's Batman.

The dudes in twitter intentionally tweeted to me that Batman gonna die. Even when they showed Bruce Wayne's grave and a crying Alfred, I still said bullshit. He's Batman.

And there's more....... but I'm lazy to elaborate. As far as the script and the plot goes, it is gonna be a long discussion. But in my own unimportant, not worthy to be quoted opinion, I was more giggly with Batman Begins.

Anyway, by the end of the movie, since I practically got to predict almost half of the scenes, it didn't have enough fizzle to get me grinning. I got out of the cinema saying well, it was good and hoping Joseph Gordon-Levitt got his own franchise or maybe like the rumors circling around, Nightwing. But the other patrons were smiling and commenting how they never would've guessed, their mind blown, it was the most awesome movie of the year so far, hailing Mr Nolan as their King, yada yada yada. Oh how I envy them.

Here is a secret.

Secrets. Some of them are cute as hell, like that kid telling his dad the supposed secret of how to eat Oreo so in turn he could have a little (or a lot - depends on your definition) sugar in him. Or that friend who would ask for sleepover parties on the pretense to accompany you on a thunderous night but secretly want to have more eye candy time and go googly eyes over your next door neighbor. Well those are somewhat cute. Then there are the "I'll honestly kill you if you  tell anyone" secrets. Dead pan expression included. Try avoid this one at all cost.

But sometimes, due to your bad feng shui, you found yourself in a situation where you are obligated to keep a secret. You may want to take no part of it, but it just presented itself to you then proceed to chain itself to your neck and swallow the key. Try as hard as you would but you can't pull yourself together enough to shove your arm down its throat to retrieve the bloody key. You can't get away and you're now stuck with it forever, unless you decided to yip. You yipped, and boom! That chain is yanked and you're now nothing but a decapitated head.

That may seem a little excessive, but the burden of holding on to your own secret is already crushing your bone and having to keep another person's secret can leave you in a state that I can only describe as the following: choking on a twinkie and the only person in the room is rocking out to "Call Me Maybe" oblivious to your situation.

So I decided to tell it all. The secrets I'm bearing. I wrote it down in a long list, slip it in one of the romance novel over on the National Library. I hope she (or the off chance it could be a he) find delights of the scandals I kept for people.

fin.

Coffee and Donuts

Now I don't know how this is true but I had been told that I sabotage everything that could be good for me, and that was coming out from a Psychology Major. The only reaction it got from me was a quirked eyebrow and a nervous "yeah, no."

That apparently did not satisfy the said Psychology Major, who was passionate enough to use every schematic knowledge she had acquired after years of hard studying to experiment on me. Big mistake I might add.

She sat me down, got me a cup of coffee and donuts and told me "Come on, amuse me a bit. Let me figure you out,"  I'm all for people to figure me out so I figured why the hell not. I should have warn her the effects of coffee on me, especially when donuts are in the equation, but I'm a firm believer of experience is the best teacher.

She asked me lots of questions which was textbook Psychology. I swear if she had a mustache, she'll rub it while she thoughtfully consider my answers. When she asked me about my dreams, I amused her with details that gets her red and flushed. I mean she was asking for it.

By then, the sugar was high enough for me to ramble mundane details of life. It was fun, coz it was all about me, me, me for once. But curses! the giggling started and my jigged was up. She sighed and asked, if I do this a lot. I smiled and told her that there is nothing to figure out.

Towards the last sip of my coffee, after we abandoned the whole let me experiment on you session I told her what I gathered. She has a bit of wiggling her pinky when picking up the coffee mug, she scrunched up her nose before biting her donuts and that she fiddle way too much with her necklace. Yes Min, I love you too :) hehe

Assumptions.

Once, a smart ass once told me that when you assume, you're making an ass out of you and me. And like all smart ass, he got that from tumblr. Seriously, he reblogged it on his page. Anyway, the point is that, assumptions are stupid and you're making yourself look like an asshole with your mouth yapping crap. Huh, that's an image for you.

If you want to know something, just ask.

Yes, it was just a stupid post.

I'm surprised you guys still read this crap, after many times I quit.

The thing about Jack.

It is 4:58 a.m. so I don't know why I am writing this either.

Jack.

I can't remember how we started. He was that cool dude with that afro and penguin waddle. Overtime, we talked and found out mutual things which grow into this funny dynamic. He was one of the "forbidden" ones as my ex would call it because of the way we interact - frankly it was because he can never understand our conversation. Actually Jill had that problem too, so whatever.

We are not that close though, it's not like a BFF sort of thing. But looking back,  Jack had been there every time I cried in public and was the guy that came over when I was sick and alone. If I list everything he did for me, it would be endless. Heck, I just realised this. The stupid telepathic conversation, the overthrowing of Jill's veto and saving up each other secrets.

But one thing I will never forget is that when he picked me up at the bus station, and like any self proclaimed big brother, took me out for dinner. When we arrived there, lo and behold, everyone's favourite douche was there with his new muse. Being a good big brother, he stepped on the pedal and told me not to look.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, sometimes we forgot those people around us and the stuff they did for us. Be it favors, the subtle you'll-be-ok comments or giving you a not so subtle slap when you just don't know when to quit. The stuff Jack did suddenly matters now. So I guess a thank you is needed.

Tick Tock goes the cranky clock.

Time is running out and like all scaredy cats, the moment we realized that we all ran towards God, presumably with our tail between our legs. It had been one heck of a year, in which a friend called it "the year Ira gone bonkers". Oh wait, it is actually a year today!

Anyway, so what now? Take it in strides? Stroll my way? Or how bout a light jog? 

Meh.
 
Might as well do it like Lance Amstrong.

Feet thumping.

Min invited me over today, seeing as I have nothing better to do. It's weird being in her apartment. It didn't suit her and her bohemian ways at all. It's all structural and steel. Without having to ask, she answered that it was all her husband's doing. Min being Min, ushered and fussed me to her studio and that is where all Min's aura exploded. Feathers, fringes and tie-dye. Now that is the Min I knew.

We talked a bit and finally Min decided I should listen to the stuff she's been fiddling with. I always had butterflies when Min decided to play her song to me. We had a thing where both of us would lay down and listen to her masterpiece, as I would call it, and she decided that if my feet were thumping (her words not mine) it's a good song.

She made about 7 songs. And I love each one of em. Min had a quirky way of putting weird lyrics in her song like "it was your toes, it was always your toes baby" It got me laughing and rolling around. And not only that, she serenades her favorite blue dress telling it to make beautiful blue skirts. I love the fact not everyone gets to listen to em.

We talked till her husband got home and played the piano for us. Min got out her phone recorded us doing the most horrible rendition of Paper Bag. She told me to stop listening to sappy songs and loaded my iphone with her own. Min decided then she wants to "decorate" my hair with feathers.

"Too bad its all going to fall off soon," I muttered. The reality of everything made us quiet and Min stopped playing with my hair.

Min then created me a song about my hair.

Won't stop rambling

I was pretending to read a book when I heard footsteps coming towards me. Suddenly the place doesn't smell like coffee anymore but an unmistakable scent that was oh-so-familiar. I took a peek, and was a bit disappointed that it was a complete stranger. He smirked a bit. I decided then, I hate people who smirked.

He said hello and introduced himself. I muttered a somewhat appropriate greeting and continue to read.

"You like to read?" he asked. No shit sherlock. "Yeah when I have the time, which I don't" I replied hiding my face to prevent anymore contact. It failed miserably when he continued asking about the books I read, and asked if I read magazines. "I read everything I guess, whatever that grabs my interest,"

"I see. Well I work for GQ magazine," and that ladies and gentleman, caught my interest.

"Are you a writer?" I asked. Please say yes. "Nope, I'm the graphic designer," Oh well.

"Cool job," I said and back to Chopin. Yeah not a chance, he started rambling.

Here's what I gather (remembered). His blood is a fascinating mixture of 5 races. He hasn't decided his religion. He had been all over the world. He owns a chihuahua, which he uses to pick up chicks. Have a CELTA certificate. His job pays him 15k and provides an apartment with a killer view. Yep, he showed me photos. More ramblings about his wealth.

Then he started telling me about his girlfriends. Plural, mind you. This is the point where it gets extremely awkward and uncomfortable. Words like sneaking in, being caught doing acts, naked and boxers was uttered. I can't look at him at that point. I looked at my watch, and pretended to be late. Thank you White Rabbit for being an inspiration.

A week later, he added me on Facebook. I looked at the mutual friends, and hot-diggoty-dang. Stupid small world.

Hannah

After a long time of absence, I finally made my way back to the Doc's office. The overdue appointments, the wafting smell of a the combined vomit and hand sanitizers, and the leer of the stuck up receptionist awaken every senses and that God awful feeling of patheticness. One thing I was looking forward for was Hannah.

Hannah. She barely fits the idea of a friend. She was merely an acquaintance of a sort that we met by chance of an overlapping appointments. We never talked outside that four walls of the Doc's office. We don't facebook each other, and we don't text each other. we just enjoyed each others company while waiting in the sullen room. I swear, in another life, we would be the best buddies.

She once mocked my playlist and introduced me to Pink Floyd. I mocked her choice of books and introduced her to the Tomorrow series.

We secretly made fun of the Doc and his accent.

We traded war stories, though mine look likes a fairy tale next to her.

We read each other blogs and gave our two cents. She was utterly annoyed when I deleted the last one. 

We could tell when the other had an episode, or just need a happy pill refill.

It was not all fun though,. She had mocked my favorite green hoodie to which I regretfully said at least I can wear short sleeves. I was an idiot, she quickly tugged on her sleeves covering up her slashes.

The last time I met her, I was too cheerful for her mood. So we just traded our iPhone to listen to the other's playlist. That was when I thought I could handle stuff better. I was wrong. And now I am back, hoping to at least have a chance encounter and meet her there.

But she wasn't. For that 4 months of absence, she finally did what she always tried. And I probably the last person in her little world to know.

Hey Hannah. Thanks for your music, your stories and your warmth. You'll be deeply missed.

RIP Hannah Tan
1985-2012

Jack and Jill

Bickering. That is what they always do, from where to eat and even their football team. I chuckled when Jill dismissed Jack with a whatever. Very original, I thought. Then the silence came, only the sound of Jack’s mix CD serves as background music. Jack cranked up the volume when I guess the silence was becoming unbearable. I decided then that maybe I should start talking again.

“I’m hungry,” I said.

Right on cue, both of them put on their parent mode.

“Ok, what do you want to eat?” Jill asked.

“We can go wherever you want,” said Jack.

See, parental. The indulgent kind. It is very tempting to take advantage of these two. Jill’s voice from that day rang in my head. “It’s okay; you still have me and Jack.”

I smiled and said we should get burgers. Not the ones serve at those fancy restaurants, but the big, real, greasy burgers that just scream heart attack and calories. Jack seemed eager enough while Jill just grimaced. I felt bad instantly and told Jack that maybe we should just go to whatever we saw first. And sure enough, with Jack’s direction we saw a fast food joint. Score one for Jack.

I sat across of them when we got our food. We dove into our silly conversations, talking about the future and what we might go through. I stole a fry from Jack and dipped it in Jill’s ice cream. “You know, I think I love you guys,” I said.

Both of them momentarily froze. I used that quick second to steal more fries. Damn, those suckers tasted great that day. Jack cleared his throat and Jill shifted her weight in her seat. Without being cued, both of them said “me thinks so too.” It was perfect.