This has always been my favorite wedding dress. I cannot stand ball gowns, cupcake dresses, anything big, poufy, strapless (I cannot emphasize enough how much I hate, detest, abhor strapless wedding dresses. It is so predictable) and this Narciso Rodriguez for Cerruti's design personifies my style and personality - streamlined, simple, sublime and understated.

P/S I am a huge Carolyn Bessette Kennedy fan and her wedding to John F Kennedy is my kind of fairy tale. They were gone definitely too soon. 

Photos courtesy of Google 

in event of moon disaster

I love this draft speech that was intended to be read by President Richard Nixon in the event that Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were stranded on the moon in their Apollo 11 mission. Absolutely well written and beautiful. 

"Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace.

These brave men, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, know that there is no hope for their recovery. But they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice.

These two men are laying down their lives in mankind's most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding.

They will be mourned by their families and friends; they will be mourned by their nation; they will be mourned by the people of the world; they will be mourned by a Mother Earth that dared send two of her sons into the unknown.

In their exploration, they stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in their sacrifice, they bind more tightly the brotherhood of man.

In ancient days, men looked at stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood.

Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man's search will not be denied. But these men were the first, and they will remain the foremost in our hearts.

For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind."

...you and I, caught in a fading light...

There are few things in life sadder than unrequited love. Death of the physical body is inevitable, even promised but death of love is often unexpected and premature. Continuing to love someone who can no longer love you back is an experience one always remembers mostly for the mixture of raw emotions, pure grief and pain that the entire ordeal brings. How do you stop loving someone? Is there a switch button in your heart that you can turn off automatically and it somehow magically erases every shared memory? How exactly do you move on? Do you disguise your true feelings of desire and longing, bury your pain, pretend life will sort itself out? In pretending, do you then convince, delude and lie to yourself into believing that everything will be okay, everything will be alright?

How do you find the answers to the questions your heart desperately seeks to find? Where do you look for the answers? Who do you search for to fill up the empty spaces and missing gaps in your weary soul?

Or maybe you are meant to find your own answers and charter the unknown territories of the world by yourself.  

Depression and solitude is like an endless black hole - a vast and immeasurable space of darkness. Tonight, more than ever, I wish I could simply disappear into that infinite vacuum of unimaginable darkness. 

the walk home

Written by: AI (Guest blogger) 

This is my first guest post for Bob is Bored. Being at an "interesting" point in my life, I have had ample time recently to reflect on past choices, good and bad, along with all the early morning revelations such reflection brings. I've tried to capture some of these sleepless epiphanies in writing below.

THE WALK HOME, THEN AND NOW

I remember going to agama class when I was a kid, during one of those not-so-frequent times I was actually:

a) in Malaysia; and
b) being a good little boy.

This may surprise some people who know me now, but I did go to agama class back then. You could say I went religiously. Anyhow, agama class was a weekly thing, down the road from our old house. This was back before our neighbourhood had modern conveniences like, you know, streetlights. Walking back home after class at night was a weekly test of my manlihood, which I usually failed. Something about the pitch-black road brought the night to life and sent me running home crying.

Two decades has passed, and I walked back down that road again tonight. It is still poorly lit, though nowhere near as bad as it was back then. I am happy to report that I did not run back home crying this time.

In a sense, we are all finding our way back home in the dark, but as time goes on, we learn to light our own ways. Some lights are bright, and some less so – but they are all our own, and they all lead back home.

Will you marry me?

So apparently, I am set to be wedded end of next year. The boyfriend popped the question last night and I ran off crying, bemoaning the loss of single life. Even the sparkle of the diamond failed to inspire any kind of joy in me; I was despondent and catatonically devastated. It was as if I envisioned a lifetime of doom whereby I will be eternally bound by the shackles and chains of an institution called marriage. Say goodbye to freedom - the kind where you can wake up at 2 am in the morning and decide that you want to watch a chick flick. The kind where you return home after a grueling day at work and take a 2 hour nap before going out for dinner. Or the kind where you walk around the house naked. Or take a dump with the toilet doors opened. 

It is the end of that kind of freedom. 

And most certainly the beginning of responsibilities; conjugal duties, possible parental duties and other obligations that arise within the context of a marriage. I wonder if a bride goes through all these thoughts when she walks down the altar in her cupcake meringue dress? Does she shed tears of joy or sorrow? 

I may sound flippant about the whole thing, sarcastic even but the honest truth is I have never been more afraid of anything. I love him in a way that is incomprehensible and I can't possibly imagine a life without him in it. But there is also another part of me that fears the unknown - the probabilities of pregnancy, the challenges of being with someone who does not share the same faith as you, the monotony of a daily shared life. I was praying at the temple a few days back (before I even knew about the proposal) and I distinctly remembered saying this "God, if I end up  with "I", please, God do not let me abandon my own faith nor forsake everything that I believe in. Please do not allow me to lose myself". 

I suppose it is only a natural progression of our relationship which has spanned over 3 1/2 years. I know the he has no doubts at all about getting married - after all he is a practicing Catholic who believes in the sanctity of holy matrimony. I, on the other hand, believe marriage to be nothing but a social institution, constructed by men for economic and financial benefits and other strategic reasons. Love can exist, with or without marriage. We are entirely 2 different people, he and myself; and I entered into the relationship not expecting it to last (being the true cynic that I was and am). But it somehow prevailed and here I am today, wondering if there is ever an easy answer to such a difficult, timeless and universal question. 

woes...

I will be heading to Johor Premium Outlet tomorrow and while reviews have been by and large not very promising and unfavorable, I still hold on to the hope of scoring some cool bargains. I am mostly looking forward to visiting Ralph Lauren and Brooks Brothers - I desperately need more shirts in my closet, preferably shirts that do not require ironing before wear. 

Shirts are a staple in my closet, especially for work, primarily due to it's functionality and practicality. As I live in Malaysia which is perpetually summer, I like to dress to beat the heat which omits lots of stuff like  knits, sweaters, cardigans, blazers and coats. Combined the weather with a 20 minute walk from the train station to the office under the blazing, scorching heat of the unforgiving tropical sun, wearing anything other than cotton (and occasionally silk - if it has been raining) is not an option for me. My weekday uniform consists of shirts (in hues of blue and gray because wearing color on a weekday is tantamount to celebrating an occasion and work is definitely not something to cheer about) and pencil skirts with black or nude heels (and Birkenstocks, while in transit).  

Having said that, I only have 3 shirts that I wear on a weekly basis - everything else languishes at the back of my closet simply because the fit is unforgiving or it was something I bought on a whim, but does not really correspond to my style, which is to dress more like a boy and less like a girl. So no frills or pink for me; stripes are fine but not mandatory. I am not too fussed about collars - they can be stiff or soft. 

I am envious of girls with extensive wardrobes, they never have to repeat their clothes. Their wardrobes are like Doeraemon's pocket - bottomless! How these girls can afford to buy so many clothes is something I will never comprehend so let us not even go there. Nevertheless, tomorrow's shopping list includes:

• 2 cotton shirts 
• 1 streamlined work dress in gray
• 1 blouse in silk or viscose 

These may seem like pared down, basic items but I find that basic items are the absolute hardest to find. All the shops in town are bursting with trendy clothes that do not suit my lifestyle (peplum, sequins, studs, neon) and as much as I love to shop, I sometimes really hate the experience of not being able to find things that you love and will last a long time. 

why am i here?

There was a massive thunderstorm in KL on Friday at about 5.30pm, right about the time where office workers (slaves disguised in formal attire) leave their cubicles (prisons) for the weekend. I walked under the pouring rain, threatening skies and not once did I feel apprehension or fear. On the contrary, I felt liberated. As though all men are trully equal (and not just in theory), and none of us are exempt from nature's cruel ways.

Sometimes I wish the world would end already. I am tired of pretending to be hopeful, I am tired of trying but always failing, I am tired of injustice which exists in all forms, I am tired of misfortune, I am tired of chasing after the mythical pot of gold, I am tired of even purely existing.

There is no meaning, there never will be.