My Learning Journey

Today I realised that putting something down doesn't necessarily mean that you’re letting it go. When you let something go, you possibly don’t care where it’s headed, (probably to Idea Purgatory or some sort) and there is a definite note of finality. But when you put something down, there’s always the probability of picking it back up because you know exactly where you left it. Today I confidently say that I have regained a balance in life, and that I have emerged a little wiser. Today I also confidently say that I've been having the urge to swim so if you do too please ask me along.

 

Maybe it seems a little all too easy, but I suppose that's the way the universe works, that all the time you've been twiddling about in your mopey existence until enough is enough and the next thing you know the birds are singing and the sun is shining and the rainbow is hanging up in the sky again and the world as you know it is beautiful once more. 

Okay maybe it's still not as beautiful as it used to be, but I'm sure it's becoming a little more beautifuller by the day. So chin up and soak in the sights.

A Baby Again

Waking up at 6.15 in the morning is suddenly new again. It's somewhat like going back to a life I've left behind, but only somewhat. This morning while I was walking to the workplace I was thinking about everything that afflicted me these days, not great thoughts. But then I saw the man in front of me tossing bits of bread to the many pigeons that hang around in the field everyday. Sun rays were trying their best to pierce through the dusty air, and they kind of succeeded. Truckloads of foreign workers were sitting around in their trucks. Everything went on like nothing had happened.

 Morning air must be good for the soul.

Time Lapse

I've been away from this space for so long that it feels like unfamiliar territory. I'm typing gingerly; it's a strange feeling. I fumble with words. What goes here? What goes in the next sentence? Should I do a verbal diarrhea post? Was blogging always this difficult?

There are many things that I want put down in this space, pockets of joy, faucets of life that aren't adding up, issues to set right. Nowadays time seems plentiful but often not enough, I wonder where it all goes to.

Technology bugs me, it always has and I fear it always will. I can't deny that it's a powerful tool, but at the same time it annoys the fuck out of me. Or rather, people who get consumed by technology annoy the fucking daylights out of me. It's a strange thing to have a vault of information at a swish or tap of your fingers, and some people can't seem to get over that wonder. How many people have you counted today walking on the streets captivated by their phones or tablets? Also strange that it's one thing to be up to date on the latest trends, but yet be ill versed in everyday etiquette. Perhaps etiquette hasn't caught up with technology. Or better still, perhaps they haven't invented an app that teaches people to watch where they're going, or an app that reminds people to use earphones while watching their latest shows on their gadgets in public, or an app that flashes alerts when an old person comes on board the train and prompts people to give up their seat. How strange that advancements in technology seem to bring about the dearth of common sense. Why does it tear away at our humanity?

What happened to the times where your friend would call you on your house phone an hour before meeting time and inform you that "hey i'm gonna be late, so don't leave your house so early" and still be late anyway and you'd wait undyingly for said friend to arrive at designated meeting point, or where the definition of a picture didn't mean pixels on a screen, but physical sheets of photographs that people printed out for the sake of memory. I mean, what happened to the times where I had to personally ask you what interesting place you visited, or what interesting thing happened to you during the week instead of getting updated by some electronic alert, or to the times where I could enjoy your wholehearted company on a night out, or at a meal without us glancing at our phones every 5 minutes? Call me old fashioned, but isn't old fashioned socialising the best there is? Facebook isn't my friend; Check In isn't my friend; Whatsapp isn't my friend; the handphone isn't my friend; you are. But yet I have to turn to these to reach you?

Don't get me wrong, I love how technology make our lives so much easier, and i'm not saying that i'm impervious to its influence. All I'm saying is that there's always a proper time and place. The world can be better, and so far technology doesn't seem to be helping.

Hello Slumberous World (that has left me behind)

So, at 3.26am on a tuesday morning I lie in bed testing my new blogging app because I was goondu enough to take a 3 hour nap on a monday evening. Typing a blog entry on a mobile phone feels strangely personal, as if I were typing a super long sms to a friend. Pardon me if I get too long-winded, or if the layout is wonky.

In happier news, this is The Bean in my sister's womb. This was taken last week, I think The Bean has grown to the size of a pea as I am typing this.

Although you can't see it, the Bean says hi and gives a smile. (:

Anyhow, in a past life, Van the Student has graduated. "Good riddance to school," she says. In her current life, Van the Bum has once more resurfaced. "Should I take a longer break, or should I start looking," she asks. In a future
life, Van the Workforce Member complains about her job. "Man, how I miss my school days," she laments. C'est la vie indeed.

Right, I am finally yawning. I think this entry is longer than what Van the Bum can take. The Bum is going to the Birdpark with Ahmoon in about 5 hours' time, so, wish us luck that the penguins are better rested than I am so that Ahmoon has something cute to look at when the time comes. :D

posted from Bloggeroid

I hope this isn't too late

Reflections of the past year: there's not much to say except that it had its highs and its lows, like all the other years before it.

What I liked about 2010 was the support that 9p gave me during my exam period. They were such sweethearts. All their texts made me smile and made my heart go fuzzy. Although I did really lousy this sem, I think I would have done worse without their encouragement. Which, if you think about it, isn't actually possible because when you're at the bottom you can't sink any further. BUT that also means that next sem will be better! Much better i hope! (: BUT anyhow, I LOVE YOU 9P!!!

What I hated about 2010 was that I missed wonderbuddy's flight. Everytime someone talks about it I still feel a cringe of guilt inside. =/

I think having neglected this blog for prolonged periods has largely stripped me of my ability to write. This feels a little unfamiliar. It's scary to realise that most of the writing I've done in the past 3.5 years have largely been academic in nature.

Tomorrow I start my last semester in school, and what can I say? I'm not feeling particularly excited, nor am I particularly dreading it. It just feels like another day is approaching, you know? Maybe it's because my timetable isn't settled yet, so it doesn't really feel like school is starting yet? GEE I DUNNO. ALL I KNOW IS I can't wait for wonderbuddy to be home, and it's killing me to find out what modules she'll be taking!! :D I hope it's something I'm taking, and I'm crossing my fingers hoho!

I Thank the Very First Person Who Decided to Blog.

I was reading all the past 9P entries and I thought it was funny how I wrote 2 years ago so I stole it off the 9P blog and put it on my own haha. I mean, how random is "eating orange peels for meals"?



So, since our last post in 2006, here I am once again in 2008, (we can pretend we all had time lapses, and the last two years we spent in outer space not knowing we've been eating orange peel for meals) trying to bring a little semblance of activity back into the blog. (: Kudos to me for effort. Oh man I am so thick-skinned sometimes. "Only sometimes," I insist.

SO! If you actually read this, write an entry to let me know that you still read this godforsaken (yes godforsaken, but sainotforsaken) blog. Hahaha I know dg occasionally drops by to tag. Check out the tag board man, she left a tag in 2007 proudly proclaiming that she'd tagged the first tag of 2008. I LAUGHED when I saw the tag can. Maybe dg secretly moves forward and backward in time. And that spawned a First Tag of the Year thread. How retarded can we get la.

Ha I emailed you guys invites to be authors in this blog. It was weird cause blogger asked me to sign in with a google account but there was difficulty creating a new account so I used my gmail account, don't mind okay? Check your email! (:

Hehheh I am supposed to be working on my editing files now and I am so far behind my work schedule but anyway a short update on today's prata outing!

jas, mel and I met for prata at the usual bukit timah prata shop for lunch. AND OH guess what, I saw a certain Girl Guide teacher surnamed Loh on the bus today and I got the creeps la. I was asking mel if I should do something to her, but I decided that I'm a nice person and nice people don't bear grudges so I very nicely alighted without giving her head a hard push. So anyway, we had prata, and they ate boring pratas. jas ate like cheese mushroom prata (not so boring prata) and mel had cheese prata and egg prata( boring pratas. don't tell mel i said that. i think she won't read this ho ho ho). I, on the other hand, had cheese prata and prata PISANG (like PISAI can. oh man i am so childish) which is banana prata and they had the cheek to discriminate my banana prata. I liked it, but they obviously didn't. hahaha. But what matters is I liked it.

And then we had difficulty deciding where to go after the meal. And we finally decided to go to Island Creamery like after an hour. So off to IC it was, and did I mention that the weather was sweltering hot? urgh. It was. And the walk from the bus stop to the place was pretty lengthy. But we cooled off in the aircon at the Creamery so it wasn't that bad. Oh we spotted Jil in a photograph on the wall in the ice cream place. Okay random. Mel and I leeched off their free water supply that by right jas was the only legitimate one who was entitled to drink from because she was the only one who bought ice cream. I wanted to but I was broke. ): But I just got my cheque banked in and soon I will be rich!

So anyway, jas finished her ice cream and we made our way to Queensway Shopping Centre. Haha. The bus ride there was super fun la. The bus 93 didn't have aircon, and when it arrived at the bus stop the two of them were like, "EHH!! Now still got bus no aircon one meh?! The bus fare got cheaper not?" Made me feel like I was the only one who wasn't a suaku. Waherm.
So anyway, jas bought pretty, bling Nike shoes at Queensway! Was a steal really, value for money, good buy. We left the place at about 6 pm and took 61 back to bukit timah. The bus ride home was priceless. We had intellectual discussions about unsightly sleeping positions of commuters and various other topics. (:

I had a good time today, as usual when I am out with the 9Ps. Oh and wt agrees that this blog should be revamped because we are all mature young adults now, and pink really is a frivolous youth's colour. And wt thinks that our minds are all in the gutter because we have names like 'sai' and 9'pee'. Ah well. We aren't frivolous youths, so we should have an image revamp. I know dg is dying to do up the blog, right dg? Haha. Okay that's it for now la huh. I've got editing to do. URGH. Someone put me out of my misery. ):

Not that I'm exactly miserable. (:

Love, sai.



I laughed at fellow-minnah-skippy's entries too, and melmel's "very first (and pretty much only) entry!" mostly because they brought back extremely fond memories, some of which I had cleanly forgotten. (It made me realise that we were ALWAYS into Amazing Race, even when we were younger haha!) It's all very nice, I like the way we were, and i like the way we are. Even though I think we can still spend more time together. Nowadays when we meet it's all about art and craft HAHA. But it's undeniably fun. Even though we aren't as rowdy and crazy as we used to be, oh scratch that, i got reminded that we can still get very rowdy at times haha.

I have come to realise how fragile human relationships, especially friendships, can be. I admit that I don't put in that much efforts in friendships that I have made in the past few years because somewhere along the way, priorities have shifted. I am still looking to set that right, and in general to set my life right because these people matter to me. They do, I just don't show it as readily as I used to.

When I was in secondary school I was all about friends, like if there were silly memes that had questions like "who is more important, friends or family?" I would answer friends without hesitation. But at the age of 21, this has changed, and I am all about family now. Maybe it's because somewhere in my head something clicked when I saw that my dad now has saggy skin and white hairs on his head which I had never noticed before, and that everytime my mom gets up from the floor she has to support herself on the ottoman because of the pain in both her knees. When I look at my dad I subconsciously compare him to the image I have of him in his younger days, where he had thick black hair, lean muscles and a flat belly. When I look at my mom I compare her to when she had clear rosy skin and could walk for long periods of time.

I wonder where my younger parents have gone, and I wish they would come back. But every day that dawns I am faced with the effects of irreversible time, and I am reminded every day that age is fast catching up with my parents. I am scared stiff by the prospect of watching them age and eventually pass away, and when I think of this there is that heaviest weight on my heart that makes it sink to a new depth every day that passes. I don't think I can continue anymore so I shall stop.

Today.

Dear world, today you taught me one lesson with two examples.


11pm at night, 9p was at the airport to see Datou off. We took lots of photos, and my favourites were the polaroid ones. Happy Friend went into the waiting lounge at 12am, and as she turned back she flashed us a most brilliant smile. She looked so much like a little kid venturing into a huge playground with unsure steps, and as we looked at her find her way to her gate, all I could think of was "dt, please be safe."I admit I was worried, still a little now, that the silly big head will be stumbling along, and that she would be a little lost in a foreign land. But I know she is resilient, like how canoe polo has trained her to be, and that she will learn along the way. The only thing that I would ask for from anybody out there and up there who can hear me, is that my Happy Friend gets all the help she needs from anybody who can help her over where she is.

She may have looked a little lost, but as she eventually walked in the right direction I knew that this was how it was meant to be. It may throw you off your feet a little in the beginning, but once you get the hang of it it'll be fine, and I know that datou will be just fine. 6 months in Sweden should be a whole lot of fun.

11am in the morning, dajie officially moved out. It's been ongoing for some time, and I knew all along that she eventually was going to move, but I just didn't expect it to be so sudden and abrupt. Her room is now a vacant space in the house and when I step in it's so empty that I can almost hear my thoughts echo off the walls. I dislike the echoes that ring in the empty room. It amplifies every single tiny sound, even the sound of quiet loneliness. From now on it's just mom, dad and me. I won't have my sis randomly popping her head into my room asking to borrow my mp3 charger anymore. Or pestering me to transfer new songs into her mp3 player. Or just watching dvds together in their room anymore.

Bukit Gombak isn't so far away, but it definitely isn't near at all considering she's been living with me for 21 years of my life. It definitely doesn't feel right when I have to sms her "see you on thursday" for the first time ever when it always used to be "see you later at home!" It's absolutely heartwrenching. But then again that's how it is right. Now that she has her own life to live, I wish her all the best, and that she'd come home often for dinners! And I'm looking forward to stay overs and dinners at her place too.

I used to imagine how my mom and her sisters were before they each got their own houses, and how they must have felt having to move apart from one another. I haven't fully accepted that she has moved out for good, but I guess I will learn to cope. I imagine my parents must feel sadder than I feel. It's like having to finally come to terms with their daughter being all grown up.



Today, the first day in school, a lecturer asked a question: "When does a child officially become an adult?"
I think I've got the answer. It's today.
It's today that I become an adult.

I Have Powers to Predict the Future

And even if I don't, I just know that this Saturday will be a BLAST! Like, BOOMZ! (gosh it's everywhere isn't it, even in nondescript blogs.)

Today, deetee messaged me "omg happy friend GO AND OPEN YOUR MAIL BOX," and I did, and I found that a cryptic message had arrived in the form of a letter through the mail. Upon opening the envelope, I saw two inserts. On one side of the first cardboard insert, it said "The Amusing Race," (it's SO 9P la, must have been skippy's idea can) complete with the signature Amazing Race clue card design. (Back at you skippy, "amaze me, amuse me" EH?) On the opposite side, it says "OUR PLANS HAVE CHANGED" in capitals, and below, "**DO NOT BE LATE**". (Something tells me that I musn't be late, and that they expect deetee and me to be able to figure out the location. What if we don't?!?) The second insert was a hand-drawn map. AAAAAHHHHH! And I died on the spot from the excitement that my 21 year old heart could not take.

Because of all the effort that 9P has put into designing the Amusing Race, I just know that it will be great. (: And I am terribly excited! So excited that I can't concentrate on my assignment. Speaking of which, it must be the busy period for them now too, and yet they took time off to think of this lovely race (cum tekkan session) thingum. (: They're the sweetest (and the most mischievious) really! BIG KISSES TO YOU GIRLS!

Rantings of a Retard

Today I was being absolutely moronic by wailing and wailing while we were stepping into the house, utterly disgracing my parents because there were neighbours coming downstairs.

"Oi, siao ah."
*Whines* "But you whacked my butt just now, and I helped to scrub the hall floor today!"

And I ran into my room in a mock hissy fit and started giggling because I had effectively embarrassed my parents in front of the neighbours. They must regret not giving me away when I was 2.

I am such an irritating kid, it's a wonder my parents still love me. So, I am going to stay up during Chinese New Year's eve so that they will have a potentially long life. I don't see how it works, but it's worth a shot anyway. And it will give me a legitimate reason for staying up late (and my mom shall not come out and say, VANESSA GO AND SLEEP LA SO LATE ALREADY STILL DON'T WANT TO SLEEP!!). It will make my parents happy too.

I have resolved to make resolutions for the Chinese New Year (talk about cheesy resolutions. It's an easy-to-achieve goal, and it will be attained by CNY yaaay!). Well it gives me some time to settle into 2009 and properly think about what I want to achieve this year.

(I HAVE HEEDED THE GOD OF BLOGS!)

A Fool Spent from Defiance

And then it all voices down to being too idealistic, thinking that real life is like a TV drama.

So the adults were right.

The atmosphere in the ward during my uncle's last moments was terribly stifling - or no, it was intensely sad. I've come to understand that it is at the point of finality that is the breaking point for most people, the knowledge that the heartrate monitors have gone flat for good, and that the weak revivals of heartbeat are lost to the straight line on the screen. The funny thing is that the lines aren't completely straight, they're slightly, only very slightly, jagged. Or it might be some illusory trick that your eyes play when you stare too long at the screen. All I remember from that night is that we each have got our different ways of grieving, but mostly it has to do with tears.

The few nights this week I've spent going down to a certain multi-purpose hall in the Jurong West area. At the wake we get to see all kinds of people. People you never knew were related to you.

"Carolyn, Vanessa, come over here, this is my cousin and her husband, call her so-and-so and him so-and-so."

"Orh." Repeats after mom in a mumbly voice. I've never seen these people in my life.

"Ah, hi, hi. Waaah, both your daughters look like you ah." Some acute observation skills there.

And what can we do but smile condescendingly at the tableful of old people.

One cousin said "The best places to find a partner, are at weddings and wakes."

At the wake you get to shake hands with all kinds of people. Is it possible to tell the maturity of a person from the way he shakes hands with others? There were gangly teenagers who were awkward in handshaking, those who put only their fingers into the grasp, and try to take their hand away too soon. And then there were adults who used both hands to shake, fully engulfing your hand in theirs. Being the anti-social person I am of course I was hidden behind Bessie and Phillip with Joe, who also had a bout of anti-social last night. I was looking straight into the handshakers' eyes to see if I could find out anything. I gathered that about 64.7% of them probably have never seen the man lying in the coffin throughout their entire lives before.

But you definitely have to appreciate that they took time off to come to the wake, to spread a little love to the man's relatives. And you have to admit that a wake with a large crowd definitely gives off a better vibe as compared to one that only has a few people sitting around right right?

My aunt had the warped idea of taking photographs of the wake for remembrance, and the honour of the task fell on me. It felt strange. It was like someone was pulling a weird joke. What kind of memory does that make? Definitely not a happy one.

Later will be the last time I get to see my uncle in flesh. The cremation's taking place tomorrow, but there's a damned exam in the way. How funny that most organisations and institutions only allow compassionate leave for close family members. Who's to judge if family members are close or distant? What's the measure of relationships?

All bad things like happening at once don't they.

What do you say when you're faced with a man who has leukemia?



When leukemia, or any other sort of sicknesses, rear its ugly head in your face, you must not flinch. The real ugliness in sickness is not the sickness itself. It is the state that the patient is reduced to in the battle against it. You have to be there to fully understand the gravity of it, and to witness the extreme unpleasantness of it. The stories you hear on TV, they may make you cry out of sympathy, but when it comes down to the reality of it, you find that you don't cry much at all.

In fact, you don't know what to think of it. One part of you tells you "Look here now, his condition is deteriorating by the day, and they're all preparing to let him go, there's really nothing you can do now," and another part is saying "Well, maybe it's not that bad, you look at him, and you know that he wants to carry on living, and maybe, just maybe, that will keep him alive." And when you do cry, it's not out of sympathy, it's out of the prospect of loss.

There are times where you will feel angry too, and frustrated, and many times you will feel extremely helpless. Extremely. You feel angry and frustrated because all the adults are getting pastors to carry out baptism ceremonies, standing around discussing which undertaker's services should be engaged, which church the funeral should be held at, when the only thing you know for certain is that the man doesn't look dead to you. Dead people don't breathe. Dead people's pulses don't register on monitors. Dead people don't lie there fighting for life. And then you feel extremely helpless because you don't know how to make the man feel better, and you probably can't anyway. But it doesn't stop you from feeling helpless.

It's never as simple as sympathy.

When wave after wave of complications hit - fever, fungal infection of the lungs, blood infection, kidney failure, cardiac arrest, as if having leukemia was the green light for all other illnesses - all you can do is to stand there and watch him try so hard to breathe. You try to guess his thoughts, what he's thinking of when he's lying in bed, but it's probably too complicated, and a young girl like you probably won't understand. Is he in extreme pain? Does he miss his wife? Has he lived life the way he wanted? But mostly it's the pain question. Is he in a lot of pain?

You stand there listening to your mom stroke his forehead and repeat "don't worry okay? Have a good rest, just follow the light," and she asks you to speak to him. While all the time you're slightly angry, thinking, why do you ask him to rest when he doesn't want to, can't you see he's trying hard to fight for his life? But then of course you're never really sure if he still has the will to live, because whatever willpower he has might possibly be negated by pain.

There are all these thoughts running through your head, and your mouth is very dry. What's there left to say when they're all convinced he's not going to make it? When the only moment of brief consciousness is when the man opens his swollen eyes for 4 seconds and tears. When all you can see is the tube leading into his left nostril, and more tubes leading into his mouth, and you wonder where they end in the body. When you get gripped by paranoia when the damned heart rate monitor gives a long loud beep, and your mom, your dad and you immediately jerk your heads to look at it.
What's there left to say at this point?

When the hospital bills by far total up to at least 45 thousand dollars, and you see your aunties and cousin keeping vigil outside the ward almost each day, how does anyone know what to do? Who has the right to make decisions for the patient then?



What do you say when you're faced with a man who has leukemia?
What's there left to say?

Life through Speckled Lens

This was taken on the bus on the way to Genting. The rest of them were sleeping, but I was too excited.

Yes, part of 9P went on a Genting trip on the 6th July for 3 days. Today I watched "L - Change the World." I found it funny how he was obliged to clear his huge pile of backlogged cases even when he was about to die. This has got no link to this entry whatsoever except that if you'd realised, we came back from the trip on the 8th, and today is the 27th. This entry is 19 days late. But like Johan always says, "better late than never."

This is skippy looking excited about the trip. She was having gastric all the way there, but didn't let it affect her mood. (:

This is datou looking sleepy, but still feeling excited about the trip.

Carnie looking very happy here. XD
Shy tofu was too shy, so all she put out to pose for the camera was her hand.

We are the Happy Friends.

HAHA where got people take picture with this kind of place-your-head-here-stands still put up the twist sign one! Not realistic ma!
Notice how carnie doesn't have a neck. She has one in real life. Really she does.

Finally, a picture of shy tofu.

At this point in time I realise there's an even shyer person, and that I don't have pictures of her at all.

Datou looks very cute!
This was taken by the shyer person whose name is otaku teng. Now you should understand why she's shy.

Skippy looks like she's advertising for the bottle of water here.

This is what you see when you look out of the room window to the right.

This is what you see when you look out of the room window to the left.

This is what you see when two girls start going crazy about taking photos from a hotel room window of everything else but the two of them together.

This is the mysterious, alluring, silhoutte-ish backview I fell in love with.



And the owner of the mysterious, alluring, silhoutte-ish backview I fell in love with.



Our laughter caught in the carousel, amplified a hundred times over.

This is for mel and dg.

Not Old Enough to Grow Up.

When you're feeling like the loneliest person around in the office, what do you do?


You start thinking about how right you were when you decided that you're never going to work an office job.

When on the inside you're crying silently, but on the outside people are telling you to be strong for the others, what do you do?


You take deep breaths and take it as it goes.

When people turn to you, who do you turn to?


You look towards your inner self, and you see an escapist, who triumphs, and when things start to happen you ask yourself if it's your fault.
Or whether you should even have to take any responsibility for it at all.

What do you become?


You turn into a premature adult.

Why?


I wouldn't know why. Things happen for a reason.
But no matter how I look at it, I can't find a good enough reason.

I Wouldn't Know Until I Have Tried.

I miss the early morning ride we took in the back of your cousin's car back in Ipoh. Your cousin drove with the windows down. The wind was cold, crisp and fresh as it caressed my face. Wherever we drove to there was the constant chirping of birds. The sky was a lovely sleepy blue, there was just enough light to illuminate the words on the signs on the short buildings, but not enough to illuminate the face of the very ocassional passerby on the streets, much less the detailed patterns on the leaves of trees. There weren't many streetlights in Ipoh, unlike in Singapore, and that gave the place a strangely comforting quality. The imprint of trees against the sky has always been my favourite sight.

Life in Ipoh is nicely paced, laidback, but not that all. My first impression of the place was that we were surrounded by mountains in the distant horizon. Seemed like everywhere I turned I could see mountains in the faraway background, which was a nice feeling because everywhere you turn in Singapore you're surrounded by tall buildings. My second impression was that there are many dogs in Ipoh. There were dogs running freely on the roads, and there was a dog at the house I stayed in. Everywhere we drove we saw dogs. In Ipoh you have to drive to get somewhere because the shopping centres and buildings are pretty far apart. A whole lot of land they have.

We arrived in Ipoh at about 5 a.m. and were driven in two cars to some place like a big coffeeshop, because it was apparently the only place nearby that had light, to wait for 6 a.m. to arrive so that we could have breakfast at some dim sum place. (The dim sum was fantastic. Hoho. So many types I'd never seen before. Mmmm.) The other car almost got robbed, from the little Cantonese I understood from the adults' conversation. Apparently, 6 Malay motorcyclists took turns to ram into the back of the car, and according to one of the victims, if the driver had stopped the car and gotten down, they would have beaten him up and robbed the passengers. Quite scary considering that we had only just arrived. Fortunately there wasn't any loss or injuries sustained whatsoever. A little bit of morning terror and excitement.

The weather was sweltering hot, much hotter than Singapore in my opinion. I got slightly sunburnt staying in direct sunlight for about 2-3 hours. And you have to drink a lot of water when you're there because of the heat. Which I obviously didn't, and fell sick. Bloody hell. Kids, it's important to drink sufficient water every day, if you feel like you haven't drunk enough today, now's a good time to go get a glass. It's horrid to be sick in a foreign place without family members to take care of you. I felt a teeny bit sorry for myself for a while, and then I felt much better after a shower and bounced right back. When there's bad, it can't be bad forever-- there's always good next, and that's pretty much what I like about life.

People were speaking Cantonese everywhere around, even the non-Chinese. Amazing. Of course I also heard Malay and Mandarin being spoken. No English though, I felt a little crippled, but of course my command of Mandarin's good enough. :D Oh, I tried the famous hor fun that you find everywhere in Singapore. It's nothing like the Singaporean version. Ipoh's hor fun is the best I ever had; supremely soft and smooth. Like baby's skin, or even finer. Mmmm. The rest of the food we had was good too, maybe when I retire I'll move to Ipoh just for the food. I'm hungry now dang.

We visited a cave called "霹雳洞" (or pi li dong) which housed many statues and figurines of religious figures of either taoism or buddhism, I couldn't tell. There were paintings on the walls of the caves, and it was pretty cool in there, in all senses of the word. It was leaking though, and they were collecting donations to stop the leakages. The sun shone in through small holes in the rock formation and resulted in strong, almost solid beams of sunlight that I wanted to reach out and hold on to. But they were too high up, and it's silly to think that you can hold sunlight in your hand. I dunno, mysterious caves can make you think mysteriously silly thoughts. Oh there was a fortune teller there too, and I wanted to give it a shot because I'd never had my fortune told before. At this point I really want to say "Curiousity killed the cat." There. But I didn't get my fortune told because... because... because of mysterious reasons conceived in a mysterious cave that I have mysteriously forgotten.

Yes, Ipoh was a good experience. Our host, the aunt, was plenty nice, and got her sons and daughters to bring us around. A bunch of nice people I'd declare, although one of the sons tried to persuade us into going clubbing with him. And when we declined him twice, his ego got in the way and said "oh, luckily you all didn't agree, I was afraid you two wanted to tag along." I rolled my eyes so vigourously that they went 360 degrees in my sockets. No I didn't, that'd be rude. We just kept quiet-- I couldn't think of a comeback, our brains had retarded and been turned to mush by the heat outside. Okay I'm rambling right. But overall, still nice because he brought us around and made small talk.

And then I decided that I wouldn't mind living in Ipoh.

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.

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.

Maybe the Moon can see Me.

You know how some things simply lose their magic because you were foolish enough to have thought that by verbalising it there wouldn't be a difference?
But there always is a difference when you say things out loud, which makes it better sometimes to keep your thoughts to yourself, and be selfish for a bit, while the world continues its rotation on its imaginary axis.

It is okay to be self-centred for a while, to be the core of my own universe every now and then.

It is okay to tap my feet in time to the music that is playing in my earphones and bob my head with the beat and pretend that it is due the train carriage's instability.

It is okay to be awkward in social situations and fade into the background, rather than try, and make things even more awkward.

It is okay to not try sometimes.

It is okay to have (momentarily) lost direction in life.

It is okay to be convinced that it just a momentary thing.

It is okay to give up dreams when financial means don't allow them.

It is okay to think that I have got the best family in the world.

It is okay to dislike the rain sometimes, and like it at other times.

It is okay be politically apathetic and not read the newspapers in order to keep up with current affairs.

It is okay to want to cry, and then cry, because I feel like I have screwed up one module.

It is okay to feel loved one moment, and feel lonely the next.

It is okay to be living in this world without knowing what it's really like to have lived in another country in another life.

It is okay to go on about things that I think are okay to experience.

It is okay to think about lost friends sometimes, and wonder if things could have worked out differently one way or another.

It is okay to fall in love with an inanimate object.

It is okay to dislike noisy children.

It is okay that I have never travelled in an aeroplane before, and not feel like it is blasphemy.

It is okay to feel sad because of most of the things I think that are okay which really are not, on hindsight.

It is okay to talk to my blanket.

It is okay to bite myself when I am very, very frustrated.

It is okay to grow up.

It is okay to believe in purely aesthetics without deeper meaning.

It is okay to pick up calls from people who rarely do so, and try to carry out normal conversation.

It is okay to feel down for a bit.

It is okay in wanting to be left behind by the world.




It is okay, really.

Oh, turd.

Yesterday I went on a walk with Bessie and we talked.

"I want to be happy everyday."

"You know that's not possible right, if you're happy everyday, it wouldn't be happiness, it'd be reduced to normalcy."

"Come again? I didn't absorb that."

"You see, if you were happy everyday, you wouldn't think of it as being happy, it'd just be an average feeling, because in order for one to feel happiness, one has got to not feel happiness in the time prior to the onslaught of happiness. It has to be a cycle you see. That's how things work."

"Well, ol-- no I mean, middle-aged people see things very differently."

"Hahaha."

When people ask me if I like what I'm doing in school, I am sometimes momentarily at loss for words. Because it's not that simple an answer like yes or no. I always find myself having to weigh out the pros and cons each time before giving an answer. Most of the time I know that I like it, but again I don't want to give any false impressions that I like everything about it. Things are always changing, and in a sense I don't like that. Why I might be saying that I don't like change now, and in another 10 minutes I might say that change is the best thing that can ever happen. How drastic, this concept of inconsistency.

Nowadays it's increasingly difficult to find someone to confide in. I know my friends are there, but to what extent are they there when they've got a whole lot of other stuff to worry about? It's becoming more and more apparent that school, work, significant other halves, projects, CCAs, physical distance do drive some mightily big wedges between us. It's like there's always something more important. Something. And it really isn't that appropriate lamenting to you about me when you've always got that something which is really much more significant. I dunno.

One thing that's obvious though, is that when you don't ask, people don't tell. More and more I am relying on extremely superficial indicators like MSN nicknames and blog entries to keep me updated on people and the state they're in now. And even then those aren't accurate indicators.

And you really don't want to start thinking about those who are absolutely inactive online, because that's too much to cope with. It doesn't help that people are too busy to meet up, or to even talk on the phone. And then you've got to worry about those who are just terrible telephone conversation partners, like me. It really doesn't help that in meeting up I've got to be very, very comfortable with you before I really start talking, like, talking you know. Sometimes you just find that you don't know what to say, and sometimes there's just so much to say but you don't know if it's too much, and all that comes out is a morose sounding "yea. haha," and then you feel utterly stupid, to the extent of wanting to kick yourself.

And there are topics of conversation to worry about. Why are things made tedious that way?

I want a strawberry sundae right now, but because I am about to declare hermitship for about 3 weeks, I think I'll save it for 3 weeks later.

Okay. Hermitship, now.

In (Lesser) Memoriam

The first time I came into contact with a lifeless human body was when my Grandma died. I was fifteen then, and that was an age where you're too young to even start and try to comprehend the workings of the world, but too old to reach out for your parents. Two things at age nineteen I'm pretty sure of though, is that you're never going to be able to even start comprehending the workings of the world, and that you'll never be too old to reach out to your parents.

When I walked into the front door I saw that everyone was separated by space - at least in my memory they were, and I don't know how much this memory has altered. You know how sometimes you're so absolutely certain that some things you'll remember for life, (how can you ever forget, how?) and then in a while you don't know what to think because everybody tells you that memories are capable of change? But you were so sure... or maybe not.

The elders were standing around the dining table, each clearly buffered by a pocket of space from the other. I have got no impression of the cousins though. I only remember one or two of them sitting on the steps to the second storey. I don't even remember Carolyn being present. Maybe she wasn't, maybe she was. Should I ask her or will that be awkward. Why should it be awkward now that 4 going on 5 years have passed right? Not that it matters now, because these dregs of minute details will eventually dilute in time to come.

Phillip and Bessie went into the room, and I followed, because that seemed to be the right thing to do. Can the dead hear then, because I was speaking to Grandma with a voice in my mind. She used to speak Cantonese, and I used to call her Po po. I've got a photograph of her feeding me rice off the table with a pair of chopsticks, and I've got one of me watching her watch me play with Mickey Mouse. I don't have any photographs after the age of ten taken individually with her. I didn't even know how old she was exactly.

I held her hand, and it was cold.
I got scared.
She was lying on the bed, looking like she was sleeping. But the difference was that she wasn't breathing, and that made all the difference in the world. I was afraid of the Po po I saw lying on the bed that night.
She wasn't the Po po I knew. Not anymore.

I cannot remember if Bessie cried. I left the room when the coldness from her hand passed on into mine. I joined my cousin on the steps, sombre, not knowing if it was appropriate to even smile. We talked about school. I think the ambulance arrived at this point.
They put a white cloth over Grandma.

It was not nice. All of it. All of it was not nice.

They embalmed the body for the funeral. I remember thinking that Po po's face now looked like plastic. We all had to wear black and white, and we stayed up through the night, almost every night.
I got scared when I looked into the coffin, because I was afraid that Po po would open her eyes. After all, I was fifteen then, and that was an age where you're too young to even start and try to comprehend the workings of the world, but too old to reach out for your parents.

We had to kneel a lot in the prayers the temple people chanted. There were many people I didn't recognise who came. There were a lot of joss sticks to light. I had to exchange schoolbags with Jiawen because mine was in bright red, while hers was in grey and blue, and I had to go to the funeral after school, and at funerals you're not supposed to have anything brightly coloured on you.

The most terrible part was the incineration.
They put Po po into the fire.
All that came out was ash, and chunks of bones that the fire couldn't and wouldn't consume, like it knew we needed physical proof that she was gone, and at the same time needed something to linger.

On the way back in the bus we were all quiet, drinking our packet drinks, like it was taboo to speak.

At the age of nineteen my grandma comes to mind occasionally.
And on a night like this, I wonder.

We Learn. Every Day.

Would you still be friends with me when you find out that I have done the following:


1. Shaved my head completely bald in a fit of intense frustration over the collective of hay that constantly flops down my short forehead. Without hair my forehead looks like it extends all the way to my nape. There's no knowing where my forehead starts from/end at because the barber did such an amazing job that it looks like I either waxed my head to remove all hair roots as well, or was born without pores on my scalp such that hair cannot grow. In other words my head is now smooth as a marble, literally, and when you touch it it feels like a baby's ass - minus the fine hair on the baby's ass of course.


2. Went to the barber's instead of the hairdresser's to shave aforementioned head.

3. Officially changed my name to Baldwin because of a simple thought which grew into dislike for the name, which eventually got me hung up on, which snowballed into something like fascination, and then it become an obsession. Thus I am now known as Baldwin Tan. Suits my hairless image fine too.


4. Bathed, when I say bathed I mean I shampooed my head of thick long hair (when I still had a head of thick long hair) and soaped the entire surface area of my fat body, with just one full pail of water, which I amazingly found out, is still excessive. I shall start campaigning for "One Pail Per Bath" in a bid to save water. Lovely.


5. Sat at a coffeshop in Avenue 4, where I was positively sure I was the youngest around, thinking of how much is excess when it comes to thinking of a person. (Is it me being fussy, or do you detect a subtle difference between "thinking OF a person" and "thinking ABOUT a person".) And then enjoying it.








6. Has lied to you twice in this entry alone, specifically in saying that I've done points 1, 2 and 3. Did you really think that I'd go to a barber, huh? A barber?!







And no, I wasn't lying when I said that I bathed with just one full pail of water. Go on try it! (: