<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d6268487116956548848\x26blogName\x3dAbsit+Invidia\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://butabanasaurus.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttps://butabanasaurus.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-168519541342354800', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>



Saturday, 30 November 2013

[ ..emerald.. ]

People often ask me why do I like taking pictures of couples. A friend joked that I get off on that, especially on gay couples like the above.

It's simple, really. I like to see the faces of happy couples. The way they look at each other. The way they hold each others hands firmly as they stroll along the streets. The way they talk to each other. The way they make each other laugh.

It's something that I love to capture in my photos. Happiness. It makes me happy to see happy people.

But at the same time, when I stare too long into these photos, I found myself green with envy.

As much I love these couples, I also fucking hate them.

They have everything I ever wanted. Someone to love and to love them back. I never had that.

It's a screwed up way to look at it for sure but I can't deny that I never thought of the question 'why do they deserve happiness but not me?'.

Then, I remember. That the problem lies on me. I'm too screwed up to be likeable. I'm too screwed up to be loved. I need to fix myself. But how?

Tonight, I feel extremely melancholy. Tears are flowing as I'm typing this.

I'd been trying very very hard to conceal my emotion since I came back. The closest I ever came to tears was when the train picked up its speed away from the platform at central station. Tears welled up on my eyes, blurring my vision but I never let it fall on my cheeks.

But not tonight. It's been four days since I'm back. I can't hold the tears anymore.

I wish I could say that I've let everything go. But it's never that easy.

Things are never that easy. Life is never easy.

No matter how much I want to go with the flow, the waves keep knocking me off the current.

I just don't belong.

I'm tired of trying to keep afloat. I just want the waves to knock me out so I don't have to keep wasting my energy anymore. Just fucking let me drown.

It just pains me that love remains unattainable for soo. sure, she's still young. sure, she's pretty. sure, she's kind. but that doesn't mean anything.




:: stitched on` ::*|21:28|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Wednesday, 2 October 2013

[ ..falling.. ]

you took my hands and guided me to the light

i hold on tight as you led me to fight

all the pain in the world cease to exist

but suddenly everything is a conflict

i struggle against the wave as it hits

my eyes open wide when you stop to lift

my weight; my heart jumps into a fit

left me to die in the sea of grit

my skin bleeds and my heart splits

the bitterness stays even as i spit

your silence threw me off into a pit

of darkness where pain is now back, persist.

:: stitched on` ::*|18:39|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Friday, 6 September 2013

[ ..don't make me say it.. ]

Dear blog,

I have forsaken you.

However, I don't regret it. I'd been having fun away from recording life here. Writing here tends to bring the worse out of me and I truly don't miss it. At all.

Anyway, I'd been to Melbourne, Australia and back now.

And I'm happy. Very happy.


:: stitched on` ::*|14:07|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Thursday, 23 May 2013

[ ..ola amigo.. ]

Hi, my name is Suwa. I hope you still remember me.

Life's been alright. I'm writing on another daily journal now. But it's a private journal that only I can read/review. She said it'll be good to write for myself.

Apparently I have a mild OCD in which I plan way ahead into my future too darn much that it's messing with my head. So, I do try my best to stop planning anything.

But it kinda fails. Coz I'm planning more than ever now that I know that I'm an OCD planner.

Man. It sucks. But I'll try again.

Anyway, life's been good. Nothing much ever happens. Nothing exciting. Nothing too boring. It's okay, I guess.

My colleage, W, just came back from her holiday in Seoul. I passed her some Won prior her trip so she can get me some nail polishes that's unavailable in my country.

I got six new nail polishes now. One from Etude House, two from Innisfree and three from Tony Moly. Gosh, I love Tony Moly.

I also have ten different sheet masks from four different brands too. It's cool.

And a hand cream.

I wish I can go on a holiday too. Money's tight. But I'm living comfortably, so I shouldn't complain.

Well, I wish I have more to say here. I'll be back when I feel like it. If there are actually readers on this blog, I thank you for reading this nonsense. I wish my life's much more exciting than just nail polishes too.

:: stitched on` ::*|21:01|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Wednesday, 17 April 2013

[ ..roundabout.. ]

It's difficult to  explain to others how I feel. Carl Jung described it ever so perfectly about my state of mind now.

"As a child I felt myself to be alone, and I am still, because I know things and must hint at things which others apparently know nothing of, and for the most part do not want to know. Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible. The loneliness began with the experiences of my early dreams, and reached its climax at the time at the time when I was working on the

If a man knows more than others, he becomes lonely. But loneliness is not necessarily inimical to companionship, for no one is more sensitive to companionship than the lonely person, and companionship thrives only when each individual remembers his individuality and does not identify himself with others.

I have had much trouble in living with my ideas. There was a daemon in me, and in the end its presence proved decisive; it overpowered me. I could never stop at anything once attained. I had to hasten on, to catch up with my vision. Since my contemparies, understandably, could not perceive my vision, they saw only a fool rushing ahead.

I have offended many people, for as soon as I saw that they did not understand me, that was the end of the matter so far as I was concerned: I had to move on. I had no patience with people. I had to obey an inner law which was imposed on me and left me no freedom of choice. Of course, I did not always obey it. How can anyone live without inconsistency?

For some people I was continually present and close to them so long as they were related to my inner world; but then it might happen that I was no longer with them, because there was nothing left which would link me to them. I had to learn painfully that people continued to exist even when they had nothing more to say to me. Many excited in me a feeling of living humanity, but only when they appeared within the magic circle of psychology; next moment, when the spotlight cast its beam elsewhere, there was nothing to be seen. I was able to become intensely interested in people; but as soon as I had seen through them, the magic was gone. In this way I made many enemies.

A creative person has little power over his own life. He is not free. He is captive and driven by his daemon. Perhaps I might say: I need people to a higher degree than others, and at the same time much less.

I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once, and cannot add up the sum. I am incapable of determining ultimate worth or worthlessness; I have no judgment about myself and my life. There is nothing I am quite sure about. I have no definite convictions - not about anything, really. I only know that I was born and exist, and it seems to me that I have been carried along. I exist on the foundation of something I do not know. In spite of all uncertainties, I feel solidity underlying all existence and continuity in my mode of being.
When Lao-tzu says: "All are clear, I alone am clouded," he is expressing what I now feel in advanced old age. Lao-tzu is the example of a man with superior insight  who has seen and experienced worth and worthlessness, and who at the end of his life desires to return into his own being, into the eternal unknowable meaning.

Extract from "Memories, Dreams and Reflections" by Carl Jung

:: stitched on` ::*|18:21|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Tuesday, 9 April 2013

[ ..thread.. ]

Future seems rather bleak
All day and night I feel weak
Life's like walking on a thin line of thread
Living through the days drowning in dread
Feeling aggrieved from the harsh reality
Riveting life is clearly not meant to be
Oppressed violently by a sense of failure
Melancholia is not very helpful either
Getting on with life woefully uninspired
Rose-tinted glasses desperately required
A gentle meow in the night is all I need
Cuddling in my arms as he kneads
Ending my life now seems too much of a misdeed

:: stitched on` ::*|21:33|

:: [0] care[s] ::


Friday, 5 April 2013

[ ..here's cat.. ]

There was a time when I feel like writing about the things that happens in my daily life. Or write about how I feel about things. Write about things that I hide from my daily life.

I should just let things flow naturally. I don't need to explain things to anyone. I don't even need to explain things to myself, in which she explained that that's what my writing intends to anyway.

To be quiet. Savour the quiet moments in life. Listen to music that makes you happy. Don't speak unless spoken to. Do things that will only bring you peace and quiet.

Look at things that will make you smile. Don't let other people's words agitate you. Read more books.

Cat's going back to vet almost broke me down, but with a little slow steps and clear thinking, I manage to pull myself together and not have another nervous breakdown.

But everything's fine. Everything's alright. Everything's wonderful.

If I ever feel like locking myself in the washroom and cry for an hour again, I'll just look at a picture of my cat.

Whether life's good or bad, there's no need waste time to explain and record. Just enjoy it as it goes. Life's too short.

:: stitched on` ::*|18:54|

:: [0] care[s] ::



:: ..it is me.. ::
Ailurophile. Irascible. Desultory. Furtive.


:: ..Type Here.. ::

:: ..pages i stalk.. ::
..queen of mushrooms..
..best page on earth..

:: ..Tick Tock.. :: --------------------------------------

:: ..Calender 2013.. ::


::..Wishes.. ::
~ eternal financial stability, bitch
~ Tokyo solo 2013
~ to Japan, I go for second time!
~ to Japan, I go!
~ Canon G12
~ Superheadz Ultra Wide and Slim!
~ Superheadz Golden Half!
~ new camera!
~ a studio home
~ publish a novel/short stories compilation

:: ..Crédits.. ::
Blog Désign: Michiika
Photo: SuuwaXSupatenshi