The two of us are like stars. We are both fixed in position on the map of the night sky, forever kept at distance from one another. Even when the Earth rotates on its axis, orbits around the Sun, our spots in the sky don't change. From Earth's perspective, even when we move from one end of the sky to the other, we remain apart. The one following behind tries to break this order, to catch up with the one in front, but it's running an endless marathon.
Sometimes it gets cloudy. Either one star gets blocked from sight, and the other one wishes upon itself for the clouds to clear. It doesn't even mind falling if that would fulfill its wish for the other to shine. But sooner or later the clouds always clear to reveal the other. And then again I am reminded how you're always in sight, but always apart.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I Lick My Teeth.
I am looking out of the window, and the streets look so inviting at night that I am tempted to go for a walk. Something's preventing me from doing so, and it feels a little like caution, and it feels a little like Bessie's advice against staying out late. If I close the window the temptation might go away.
So instead, I decide to write an entry in this blog, because it's about the only thing that has the patience to tolerate my ramblings. I appreciate it in ways it doesn't and cannot even realise.
O why is my blog inanimate? I lament its indifference. ):
And narcissism decides to get the better of me, and I decide to make a list.
5 things you never knew, or already know, about me.
1. I like painting my nails.
I paint my nails because I've got a bad habit of picking at the skin around my fingernails, and painting them stops me from doing so.
2. I am often in a dilemma over painting my nails vs cutting them short to facilitate in guitar/keyboard playing.
I do have the urge to make some music-sounding noise sometimes. I can't even play the guitar properly with my nails short, nevermind them being long. Long nails click horribly on the keys of the keyboard and when that happens I feel like cutting them off. But then I am faced with the possibility of the bad habit returning, so I usually just mope around until I lose the urge to make more music-sounding noise. ): But sometimes I choose to heed my musical calling and cut my nails till they are really short.
3. I sometimes talk to inanimate objects.
Like this blog. And my guitar which I had (impulsively) named Cherrystone. And the Spongebob stuffed toy. And Vanny the monkey. And my daily planner. And sometimes to the general crowd of inanimate objects in sight. And sometimes to air. Oh and I talk to some insects too. Only some though, those I am not afraid of, like flying ants and moths. Only. I occasionally talk to myself in the mirror too. And trust me, I am not loony.
4. My conversation skills (when I am with most real people) are almost nonexistent.
I perpetually lack appropriate topics to talk about, and sometimes appropriate responses to what people are saying. When people ask me to talk I clam up even more. Gah. I don't like it-- having nothing to say, and having people ask me to talk. ): But of course there are some who I am extremely comfortable with, and that's a different case altogether.
5. I didn't know how to spell acoustic until end of last year.
I don't seeing spelling mistakes on posters and signs, and when I was with Lim and George at DXO, there was this poster which said "Acoustic band" or something like that and I pointed at it and said "acoustic's spelt wrongly isn't it? It should be double c right?" And then Lim pointed out that I was wrong and that "acoustic" is spelt the way it is on the poster. Ah. What can I say, we're never too old to learn spelling.
Speaking of which I was watching the Scripps National Spelling Bee on ESPN the other day, and it was amazing the kind of words that actually exist in this world. I can't even remember what words the kids were asked to spell, and they were like, 12 to 14 year olds?
This twelve year old was asked to spell 'bulbul'. Yes I know it's a bird and you've heard of it before. That was not so bad. Another guy was asked to spell 'torii', which is Japanese. Why would they test them on Japanese?! Another was tested on the word 'trophallactic'. And this-- 'cryptococcosis'. Or how about 'sciuromorph'? (My jaw drops.) Whaaaaaaaaat...? And this was only round 7. They went all the way to round 16. Words like 'écrasé', 'aptyalism', 'esclandre' and 'hyphaeresis' don't even sound like English to me. Some of them probably aren't I wouldn't know.
Urgh. But those kids are terribly brilliant. Wow. I'd make my kid take part in a Spelling Bee in future like an evil parent. That is if I even have kids in the first place.
So instead, I decide to write an entry in this blog, because it's about the only thing that has the patience to tolerate my ramblings. I appreciate it in ways it doesn't and cannot even realise.
O why is my blog inanimate? I lament its indifference. ):
And narcissism decides to get the better of me, and I decide to make a list.
5 things you never knew, or already know, about me.
1. I like painting my nails.
I paint my nails because I've got a bad habit of picking at the skin around my fingernails, and painting them stops me from doing so.
2. I am often in a dilemma over painting my nails vs cutting them short to facilitate in guitar/keyboard playing.
I do have the urge to make some music-sounding noise sometimes. I can't even play the guitar properly with my nails short, nevermind them being long. Long nails click horribly on the keys of the keyboard and when that happens I feel like cutting them off. But then I am faced with the possibility of the bad habit returning, so I usually just mope around until I lose the urge to make more music-sounding noise. ): But sometimes I choose to heed my musical calling and cut my nails till they are really short.
3. I sometimes talk to inanimate objects.
Like this blog. And my guitar which I had (impulsively) named Cherrystone. And the Spongebob stuffed toy. And Vanny the monkey. And my daily planner. And sometimes to the general crowd of inanimate objects in sight. And sometimes to air. Oh and I talk to some insects too. Only some though, those I am not afraid of, like flying ants and moths. Only. I occasionally talk to myself in the mirror too. And trust me, I am not loony.
4. My conversation skills (when I am with most real people) are almost nonexistent.
I perpetually lack appropriate topics to talk about, and sometimes appropriate responses to what people are saying. When people ask me to talk I clam up even more. Gah. I don't like it-- having nothing to say, and having people ask me to talk. ): But of course there are some who I am extremely comfortable with, and that's a different case altogether.
5. I didn't know how to spell acoustic until end of last year.
I don't seeing spelling mistakes on posters and signs, and when I was with Lim and George at DXO, there was this poster which said "Acoustic band" or something like that and I pointed at it and said "acoustic's spelt wrongly isn't it? It should be double c right?" And then Lim pointed out that I was wrong and that "acoustic" is spelt the way it is on the poster. Ah. What can I say, we're never too old to learn spelling.
Speaking of which I was watching the Scripps National Spelling Bee on ESPN the other day, and it was amazing the kind of words that actually exist in this world. I can't even remember what words the kids were asked to spell, and they were like, 12 to 14 year olds?
This twelve year old was asked to spell 'bulbul'. Yes I know it's a bird and you've heard of it before. That was not so bad. Another guy was asked to spell 'torii', which is Japanese. Why would they test them on Japanese?! Another was tested on the word 'trophallactic'. And this-- 'cryptococcosis'. Or how about 'sciuromorph'? (My jaw drops.) Whaaaaaaaaat...? And this was only round 7. They went all the way to round 16. Words like 'écrasé', 'aptyalism', 'esclandre' and 'hyphaeresis' don't even sound like English to me. Some of them probably aren't I wouldn't know.
Urgh. But those kids are terribly brilliant. Wow. I'd make my kid take part in a Spelling Bee in future like an evil parent. That is if I even have kids in the first place.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Abundant Growth of Lalang
There's nothing quite like watching aeroplanes take off on the runway about 500 metres away. It's an inexplicable rush of adrenaline that makes you want to whoop for joy, scream against the loud roar of the engines, and to become a pilot.
There's also nothing quite like watching aeroplanes drop really low, flying in for landing, especially when they fly over a body of water with the beam from their headlights reflecting off the surface. It's inexplicably overwhelming, and it makes you want to grin widely like a silly fool and throw your hands up in the air, scream against the loud roar of the engines, and to sit there forever, counting the planes that come in.
There's also nothing like the fleeting quality of the moment, like as if the beauty of plane watching lay in its repetitive transience.
We talked, we sang and we laughed on our tour de east.
There's also nothing quite like watching aeroplanes drop really low, flying in for landing, especially when they fly over a body of water with the beam from their headlights reflecting off the surface. It's inexplicably overwhelming, and it makes you want to grin widely like a silly fool and throw your hands up in the air, scream against the loud roar of the engines, and to sit there forever, counting the planes that come in.
There's also nothing like the fleeting quality of the moment, like as if the beauty of plane watching lay in its repetitive transience.
We talked, we sang and we laughed on our tour de east.
Friday, June 13, 2008
When you were taken away from this world, how did it feel like for you?
For me it felt like the invisible ropes binding us together were cut, and all I have left to rely on are photographs we took together - your face and all of its expressions caught in my head - written excerpts in my diary of the things we did - letters you wrote to me - that particular scent you used to wear - your name off my lips -- all of which I would have to stow away in a safe place, a place where I can visit to relive our pristinely preserved memories over and over again, a place where Time is inconsequential, an impregnable fort which even Time's acidity cannot corrode.
I kept you in my wretched heart for a long while. With every turn of the head I caught your silhouette in my peripheral sight, but when I looked you had vanished. You only existed in another dimension--the psychological dimension of peripherals. With every waking morning my eyes could hardly open, dried and crusted by the tears they'd shed the night before. With every impulse to call you I get crushed by the vacuum on the other end of the line. With every nightfall the pain intensified.
The crippling loss left me struggling to keep afloat in the sea of people I'd immerse myself in to remind myself that I am still alive. I think when you died a part of me died too.
The day you went away the only place that Time couldn't reach, where the memory of you could have been kept pristine and undefiled, was destroyed. When you left the world you took a fragment of my heart with you into the unknown. Over the years I tried to replace that missing fragment with anything I could find-- happiness, excitement, new friends, peace, anger, a pet dog, delirium-- but nothing worked. You held the missing piece which could only be returned if you came back to life. But you didn't, and I gave up on the thought that you ever will.
Time attempted to fill up the gaping hole that you had left by slowly blurring and dissolving our shared memories. They couldn't remain pristine, and when the yellowed photographs faded, so did the pain I felt.
But you remain irreplaceable.
It was selfish of you to leave me alone here like that. I think I was angry at you for a while. I got angry when I thought about you leaving the pain you couldn't feel in death behind leeching onto the lives of those who were still around in the world. But of course I know you didn't mean to.
You didn't mean to.
For me it felt like the invisible ropes binding us together were cut, and all I have left to rely on are photographs we took together - your face and all of its expressions caught in my head - written excerpts in my diary of the things we did - letters you wrote to me - that particular scent you used to wear - your name off my lips -- all of which I would have to stow away in a safe place, a place where I can visit to relive our pristinely preserved memories over and over again, a place where Time is inconsequential, an impregnable fort which even Time's acidity cannot corrode.
I kept you in my wretched heart for a long while. With every turn of the head I caught your silhouette in my peripheral sight, but when I looked you had vanished. You only existed in another dimension--the psychological dimension of peripherals. With every waking morning my eyes could hardly open, dried and crusted by the tears they'd shed the night before. With every impulse to call you I get crushed by the vacuum on the other end of the line. With every nightfall the pain intensified.
The crippling loss left me struggling to keep afloat in the sea of people I'd immerse myself in to remind myself that I am still alive. I think when you died a part of me died too.
The day you went away the only place that Time couldn't reach, where the memory of you could have been kept pristine and undefiled, was destroyed. When you left the world you took a fragment of my heart with you into the unknown. Over the years I tried to replace that missing fragment with anything I could find-- happiness, excitement, new friends, peace, anger, a pet dog, delirium-- but nothing worked. You held the missing piece which could only be returned if you came back to life. But you didn't, and I gave up on the thought that you ever will.
Time attempted to fill up the gaping hole that you had left by slowly blurring and dissolving our shared memories. They couldn't remain pristine, and when the yellowed photographs faded, so did the pain I felt.
But you remain irreplaceable.
It was selfish of you to leave me alone here like that. I think I was angry at you for a while. I got angry when I thought about you leaving the pain you couldn't feel in death behind leeching onto the lives of those who were still around in the world. But of course I know you didn't mean to.
You didn't mean to.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Sick Sad Little World.
Something is wrong with the world when at any point in time in your cosy circle of close friends you have more sad friends than happy ones.
Recently the number of sad friends in my cosy circle has been increasing. And it's heartwrenching that when we meet up, they do such a good job of keeping their feelings under wraps, their faces straight or even smiling, such that I can't seem to detect the possible undercurrents of sadness that they might be feeling inside. Which makes me feel quite lousy when I find out after that they'd been putting up brave fronts. I admire them because they're considerate about other people around them which makes me love them even more because they must be feeling very crappy inside. ): My lovely friends deserve better.
Recently the number of sad friends in my cosy circle has been increasing. And it's heartwrenching that when we meet up, they do such a good job of keeping their feelings under wraps, their faces straight or even smiling, such that I can't seem to detect the possible undercurrents of sadness that they might be feeling inside. Which makes me feel quite lousy when I find out after that they'd been putting up brave fronts. I admire them because they're considerate about other people around them which makes me love them even more because they must be feeling very crappy inside. ): My lovely friends deserve better.
"If I had one ray of sunlight to hold in my hand
Maybe we can be happy again."
Rachie sent me this Phantom Planet song while we were in J1 if I remember correctly. And I think of her when I listen to it. She's currently in Australia, and feeling unwell. ): At times like this I am helpless, and all I can do is to tell her to drink more water and get sufficient sleep, which is hardly any comfort. It must be hard on her, and all I can take comfort in is that at least there is the Beng to take care of her. She's coming back on 30th June, which is about one month from now, and I am looking forward to that. The last time she came back for a period of two months we only met like what, 3 times? I know it was so silly.
Previously, on Tuesday I went cycling with Yanni at Sentosa in a weak attempt to take her mind off stuff. I realised cycling is an activity that allows you think more about stuff. My bad. Although she said she had fun at the end of the day, it still made me feel kinda bad, especially after I read what she wrote, that she was actually hurting a lot inside. She is silently resilient like that. What she wrote made me face up to the fact that perhaps our friendship needed a bit of tweaking and repairing. I'm going to work on it because after all like she said, 十三年半的友情绝对不是蓋的。I don't even know what the second last character means, but I figured it probably translates to something like, thirteen and a half years of friendship definitely is for real. (Enlightenment anyone?) Sometimes, the way I look at this relationship, we are like a married couple with kids, and we know that the other one is around at close proximity, but we just don't see that need to reach out to each other. Yanni is my oldest friend, and I have known her for more than half my life, and all I know is that I have to be there for her.
Anita, the one who has the world on her shoulders to bear. Some time back, I had the revelation that she's the strongest person I ever knew. Don't be fooled by her whiny antics and her ah lian appearance. I think most people don't have an inkling of the things she has to go through. It's pretty amazing how she does it, and I know that she's not getting much help. From Anita I learnt that things happen when they want to, and all you can do is to face them head on. By the strength that she thinks she does not have, I am secretly inspired, because in obscure and strange ways, I see it in her. Some of you must be thinking, "What can Anita possibly be going through? I've been through much worse in MY life." This is where some of you may be wrong. Or this might be where I am wrong to think that most of you couldn't have been through what Anita is having to go through right now. But from what I know, Anita deserves much, much better. Salute, and a big pat on the back for her!
Went out with jiawen, poon and evey last Saturday. Jiawen was her usual crappy and crazy self. I swear being with them brings out the noisy side of me. Well, YES I AM USUALLY QUIET and I will push you to the ground if you disagree. So anyway, I think jiawen was probably troubled over certain stuff, but the way she carried herself that night was admirable. She was positively sprightly, and proactive, trying to secure every chance she has to achieve what she wanted. I know whatever she's going through must be disheartening, I know for sure that if it happened to me I'll lock myself in the room and sleep for one whole week before I come to terms with it, but that's not jiawen to mope about. I know we don't meet up very often, but I enjoy every moment that we do.
Have been meeting up with skippy a few times, and this lamo never fails to make me laugh each time. She doesn't wear her hurt on her face, and is forever making lame jokes that I lamely laugh at. Haha. I know. It's a certain vibe cultivated by 7 years of friendship that runs through the 9pees. I still think it's pretty amazing really. With skippy it's not easy to convince her that she can do better than that. But in reality we all think that she can, and we are sometimes exasperated because we can't seem to successfully put that across to her. I think that being in TP dance has changed her tremendously. Skippy doesn't voice out the distress that she is experiencing when she is out with us, neither does she let it affect her and in turn affecting us. Sometimes there are glimmers which hint that she had let down her guard for a moment there, but most of the time they come and go as quickly, and all at once she is looking at you with normalcy on her face again. What I think she needs now is time, a LOT of time. And really skippy, THE NEXT ONE WILL BE BETTER.
Everyone I know can be my greatest inspiration at times.
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