i love driving but i can get so frustrated while driving. sometimes, i feel like the lousiest driver in the world when my mom sits beside me. she scolds me for every small little thing and panics and shrieks when she doesn't have to which always sends me into a panic and in that second, my heart literally stops. i know she means well but it makes me feel really lousy and when i feel that way, i really start to drive that way.

just now i almost met with an accident with a big truck. i needed to filter to the third lane so i could get onto the viaduct and i saw the truck coming but it was still about two car lengths away. i was filtering but it didn't slow down and i swerved back just in time to see its side slice past the car as my mom screamed. next thing i know i was stuck on the triangle separating the viaduct from the normal road, and my mom was scolding me for not listening to her.

i just felt so angry and so shitty. i always listen to her, and when i follow her instructions and as a consequence turn into a wrong lane, i get scolded for not reading the signs. when i don't listen, i get scolded also. i just feel like such a lousy driver and i know it's no big deal because some people don't even have the luxury of driving. but i hate feeling like this. i am angry at myself for not being able to drive better. for not being able to change lanes better. for asking her to let me drive back. for being angry at her. for crying in the car. for not being able to prove to her she doesn't have to keep nagging me when i'm driving. for not being assertive enough on the road. i am angry at the truck driver. and at all those other drivers who wouldn't give way to me when i was stuck on that triangle divider.

sigh, i know i sound like a brat (who says i'm not one anyway?). i just want so badly to prove that i can do it. but i keep proving her otherwise.

i have to be patient, i guess. (!!!!!) =/

this is amazing! all these shireens coming to my blog! shireens of the world unite! haha. you know how we sometimes say "what's in a name?" i think names do matter. well, to a certain extent i guess. i mean, if i had been named elizabeth or ariana or rachel (my parents almost named me that) or mei ling or shanti or fatima, i think life would've been quite different. i would never have met some people. whether it's through this blog,(like shireen ruth from maryland or the other shireen), or in school (i would've been pre-assigned to other classes in smu and face the probability of never meeting the friends i have now since we are assigned in alphabetical order), or..well...you get the point. and seriously, life WOULD have been really different.

after reading shireen ruth's first comment, i decided to google myself on the net. so i just typed in "shireen"and i got a whole long list of results!pages and pages! at first, i felt cheated cos i wasn't special anymore (haha!). but after that, i was amazed and amused! i was a doctor, a dragqueen, a fire-spinner, a little girl scout, a divorced woman with 2 kids, an associate professor, a nude model, an interviewer on an abu dhabi channel, a child patriot.....

some cultures take naming really seriously. my mom told me that when i was first named, my aunty had to call all the way from the states to whisper my name three times into my ear through the phone(of course i was only a baby and my own name probably sounded like gibberish to me then) before it could be announced. for my brother(pravin), there was one big ceremony because he was a boy. (phew for me!)

a name can affect a person's whole life! some parents give their children really bizarre names and it affects their whole social life in school and they are the butt of jokes. (there are always bullies and cowards.) some people can fall in love because of a name. some people slide into a bad mood at the utterance of a particular name. the list goes on and on...

well, if you ask me..really...what's in a name? i don't believe you can know a person just by knowing his/her name. then again, since names have meanings, some names are appropriately given to certain people and they seem to encompass the meaning of their names. for others, they could be sub-consciously living according to the definition of their names. (some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy maybe?) perhaps it is an interaction of both or other factors. but still, it's not different from judging a book by its cover (though we judge correctly sometimes hehe). but well, what i can say is that even your name can change the course of your entire life! even if it has changed only a BIT, it has still changed.

but if you think about it, everything plays a part in moulding the course of your life. a name is only one thing. but still, it's just mind-blowing to think that this one thing can wreak such havoc and/or create so many beautiful moments in your life! imagine the whole universe of things! all the things you know, all the things you don't know and all the things that you don't know you don't know!

thanks, shireen ruth! your mere presence here inspired the thoughts for this post. =)

ok, according to ter-rants, the helium simply escapes.

-thwacks back of shireen's head-

little miss smarty-pants we got here...

i realised what that feeling was. in the previous post. it was like the feeling of...waiting to die. another state i never want to be in. of rot and decay. like the potato i found in a bag in my room this morning which freaked the hell out of me! when the fruits of procrastination ripen, methinks they'd pretty much look like that rotten potato which was left there for...(GASP!)...3 months!

i was searching for the gorillaz "clint eastwood" lyrics just now and came across a peculiar site. it was a site for people who claimed they had no friends and it actually had about 15 members or so. they were all really depressed and suicidal because they were so lonely and felt so unwanted, used and worthless. i'm sure some of us fall into that state sometimes. but for them, this loneliness, it's like a disease they can't shake off. as much as they have a part to play in this state of being (because i think loneliness is a state of mind), the rest of the world does too. every action has a consequence. everytime we marginalise someone, god knows what were are doing to that person. no, i don't think we can justify that.

help! ever since my mom bought a new adaptor and the keyboard came back to my room, i've been playing non-stop! now my back continuously aches cos i sit there too long with a really bad posture and my wrists really ache cos i think i play at a really weird angle. i don't know whether i'm making more noise or music but all i have to do is glance at the keyboard and i'm whacking the keys in a frenzy the next second. exams start in 3 days.

and end in 5 days! woohoo!

today (as in sunday), we found out why there was nothing going on in that house. the wake was apparently at nativity church and so we made our way down there just now and got to meet, amongst others, his family. i wanted to know so much. to solve the mystery behind uncle vincent. he lay there resting in his coffin like any other would, and funnily, despite all his unique and bizarre idiosyncrasies, his death had made him common to us.

his still body, his closed eyes, his sealed lips. he was really gone. what really fascinates me when i see a dead body (no i don't have a morbid fascination with doing so) is its stillness. looking at the stillness of uncle vincent's body, it just really hit me that our bodies really are but just earthen vessels. you could tell that he really wasn't there in that body anymore.

wonder why i'm in this body.

i just know this is not it. i know i want to be so much more. i know i need something to hit me deeply. DEEPLY. again. to resuscitate whatever it is that's falling into a comatose and dying inside of me. it's not as dramatic as it sounds but sometimes, i just feel so old and defeated. i feel like a shrinking balloon, once totally filled and high on life's helium, now slowly shrinking and deflating, sinking lower and lower towards the cement. and it's not that someone has burst this balloon or it has been filled with some kind of toxic gas. it's just that..that "magical helium" that was there and still is, just seems to be slipping away through some invisible hole i can't see. what is it and where?

haha. this made me start wondering why helium balloons shrink over time. i came up with a theory and don't know whether it is right but you can correct me if i'm wrong. i think its because the molecules lose energy, perhaps due to a lowering in temperature, causing the molecules to lack the energy to overcome the strong forces of inter-molecular attraction, thus causing them to come closer together, thus causing a decrease in volume and thus, an overall shrinking in the size of the balloon. and an increase in density which weighs it down and causes it to sink. wonder if pressure plays a part too. like does external pressure push down on the sides, causing the molecules to get closer together? hmmm... haha, shireen you are driving the poor reader mad with your gibberish entries!

anyway, thinking about the physics of shrinking helium balloons has made me realise that perhaps i need to re-energise and replenish. my magical helium lacks energy and my soul is getting heavier. i can feel it. stagnation! yes! i think bingo that's what's happening. haha, all those dash-random thoughts just to realise it was that. sometime ago when i was reading my past entries, i remember that there was this line that i typed a few times. that stagnant waters were really the breeding grounds for bloodsuckers. (literally, too) ok i have to remember this more often!

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

now, the question is...how?

on monday night, i watched trainspotting. (as you might have read previously) in other words though, you can say that on monday night, i watched people injecting themselves for almost 2 hours. then, over the past few days, i underwent a total of 3 jabs myself. for vaccinations against typhoid, flu and hep A. my parents want us to have all these jabs as protection before we fly off in about a week's time or so.

on thursday night, aunty and mama came across my rgs year 2001 yearbook. i was flipping through and found a picture i had not seen there earlier. it was at our farewell assembly and there was a big picture of me hugging miss leow! how come i didn't see that earlier?? ANYWAY, this is not the point of this paragraph. i was putting my yearbook back into the cupboard and the sight of my booklet from my US school fieldtrip in year 2000 greeted my sight. it made me recall an incident of how i got a scolding from a teacher one night for some stupid thing which made me feel bad the whole night. that booklet was like my diary for that trip. we were made to write in it everyday. i started reading it and suddenly, everything just started coming back to me. it was a really great trip and the first time i had been away from my family for so long. then, next day, i was in school "mugging" for the first time this week when melt msns me. "wanna go work and travel in US?" i go, "really? ok!" and so the next day, (which is today which is saturday), we made our way down and signed up for it. looks like i'll be away for 3 months in the states next summer. to think that i was reading my US fieldtrip journal the night before haha. (ooops, better get down to telling papa)

(but aiyar, pravin's going into the army, and if i'm going to the states, then jeevan how? and then, there's also the camps and all that, what with some of our dear friends leaving us soon too. but will there ever be a RIGHT time?)

also, the topic of elderly dying has been replaying ever since i read junkhoo's entry about her late grandma. today, i was in the office in church stapling some stuff together with colin when a few people came in and started talking about this guy who passed away. and that he had cancer before and fell into a relapse and all that. discussing whether padre pio was going down and stuff. i wasn't really listening. just caught those. then i looked at colin and his mouth was agape. "uncle vincent!"

"who's uncle vincent?" i said.

"that guy, lar. the white-haired man. always go for mass."

uncle vincent's passing has been such a mystery. as was his life. he really made me smile everytime i saw him though. he used to play his recorder at the busstop while waiting for his bus after mass. before mass, he'd randomly go up to anyone sitting outside the canteen and talk to them about anything and everything. noone really understood but we all had a clue he was actually very smart. recipes, history, maths, he never ran out of topics. he'd talk to himself alot but i don't think he was actually intending to talk to himself. i think he really wanted to share everything he knew with anyone and everyone and it didn't matter whether we were really listening or not. no matter what though, he'd faithfully come for mass everyday. many stories have been passed around about his past and what made him this way. stories about his family. his mom. a deceased wife. all that. but i wonder whether anyone really knew.

just now, we decided to go to his wake. but even the most well-informed people in church didn't really know where he stayed. finally, we got the name of a road and managed to find the house. but there was no wake. no coffin. everything looked normal. we looked like a bunch of hooligans in terence's van waiting outside his house and peering in, bewildered at the lack of activity. funnily, we already knew the funeral day and time. there was just no wake at that house though. strange.

whatever it is, i really thank god for allowing me to have experienced the wonderful, colourful, intriguing uncle vincent. i wish i could've known him better. let him ramble a bit more to me. listen more to his simple recorder tunes. isn't that what we always say? i hope he's happy where he is now.

the funny thing is, that he probably didn't even know any of our names and perhaps didn't even know we existed. yet, we all know him and grieve his passing and rejoice in the gift he was to us all.

this post wasn't really supposed to turn into a tribute to uncle vincent. it was supposed to be about the strange coincidences of the week. the "omens", signs. (if you read the alchemist though one particular soul out there surely recommends you do not haha =p) well, nothing really is a coincidence in shireen's world.

god bless, uncle vincent!

and god bless you. good night!

gosh is it noisy in here. or out there.

such small, trivial, mundane things. is it really worth it? is it?

sad, huh? actually kind of sucks. i'm guilty of it too. people try to help us but we snap at them and curse them and call them all sorts of names and are so quick to blame but far toooo slow to forgive, like it was our right to in the first place.

makes you sick in the stomach to see such things going on. doesn't have to be something you've watched on tv. can be closer than you actually think. makes me sick to know that i have it in me to be like that too. makes me so sick that i never want to be like that no more.

just listen for one second at least. it's just getting way too noisy.

i reckon my system's been overloaded with enough irish/scottish screenplays for me to attain a full-blown cockney accent. it all started when merrill and i couldn't find any decent quality vcd/dvd to watch and so, we simply settled on the best quality one. (not talking about movie quality here) guy ritchie's snatch. bloody murder! literally. but really stylo. thus whetting my appetite for lock, stock and two smokin' barrels. and then, just a few minutes ago, it was trainspotting. (yea pretty slow i know but i think it was fate that i watched all these movies at one go at this one point of time in my life. you reckon? i don't why i keep using the word "reckon".) i don't know man but i feel...wasted. just watching all these shows where everyone's wasted and high and violent and mad and...i don't know man...but one thing about these shows...the cinematography, and music (MUSIC!), and originality. (those were a few things) really captivates and strikes a chord within. you think you're wasting your time for those 2 hours because the main characters all seem to be wasting their lives away for those 2 hours too but really, these movies, this is what movie-making should be about.

but one thing these movies do to me. (that's another thing) they leave a sobering effect. i know i just said i felt wasted. but really...it's a sobering kind of wasted feeling. it's the sobering kind of wasted when you REALISE you feel wasted (and ARE wasted.) and then you feel the most wasted, because reality smacks, whacks, bushwhacks you in the face. and you wake up to the harsh horrors, to all the waste left behind, which seemed to have materialised from out of nowhere. but was there all the while. yes, the truth is, watching those shows, you'd think, "nar, those guys are far worse off and more wasted than i'll ever be." and you wonder why after one hour you're still watching. but you, ok, i realise that there's a little of each or one or some of those whackos in me. the part of me that likes lying around, watching life go by, stoned, glassy-eyed...the part of me that's scared, and is always looking for an escape, waiting, hoping...dreaming...truth be told, you don't need drugs to reach that state.

i'm talking about more than just being wasted. i'm talking about the way we lie to ourselves (and others) and the way we kid ourselves(and others), seeking alternate realities and quick reliefs and port keys (like the ones in harry potter), all sugar-coated and iced with justifications, blame, self-pity, "i can't do anything about it"s, "i'm just like this"s, bla, bla, bla. (such condiments hardly seem appetising if you ask me.) for those few moments, they're our passports to bliss and paradise, away from the hellhole we call life. and when the orgasmic effects of the drug wears out, and the anger dies away, and when you have don't even have any shit left to throw at people, you wonder why it's all so unbearable. i told you, you don't need drugs to reach this state.

you know like, when you wake up from a hangover, you feel terrible. you feel worse than you did while doing the dirty deed. you wake up in the morning and see the puke on the floor (which isn't your floor), and your clothes (which is on the floor), and you smell it in your hair (the puke, that is, amongst other things). you dread seeing the rest of the mess you left behind from the night before. but it's not the last of it. you puke your guts out the whole day and wish you could die. you vow never to drink again. that's the sobering kind of wasted feeling.

we tell ourselves we'll never repeat the same mistake. never be a jerk again. never fall into that black hole again. never kill again. never lie again. never smoke again. never this, never that. and then, one day, you slip a little. only a little, you say. one more day, you say. one more week, one more month, one more year, one more century...one whole lifetime passes you by and you haven't gotten anywhere, or worse, worse off from where you were before.

the sobering kind of wasted feeling works in more than one way. 1) you wake up and conquer it and walk on, never turning behind. 2) you wake up and conquer it and walk on and turn behind once twice a few times, and you either fall again or you finally never ever turn behind. 3) you wake up, it's too bright, and you pull the sheets over your eyes again and try to go back to sleep. only you never really go back to sleep because you're in that torturous limbo state where you can't sleep and don't want to wake up. 4) you OD.

i reckon i fall between 2) and 3). we'd all love to be in 1). lets hope we never reach 4).

i was/am/may be so close to turning behind. but for this one sobering moment, i was reminded that i told myself before that i'm never going back there. i'm worth more than that, really.

(i reckon i might be afflicted with some disorder that makes me take on the role of a character i've just watched in a movie. it even spreads to the way my eyes look at you. (eeeks) the manner of this post seems to be a testimony to that. aye?)

p.s. funny that starsailor's "coming down" starts playing on my computer as a dramatic ending to this post which never seems to end. the end.

If you don't mind
Could we not fight?
I see you're close woman
In the night
I'm sober
Still alive

Waste your days
On your own
Getting drunk getting stoned
I'm sober
Still alone

Must I always take a back seat?
Must I always be your clown?
Did you ever really love me?
Were you always coming down?

See your face
See your eyes
Shouldn't have left
Shouldn't have lied
I'm sober
Spirit's died

jeremy wanted to go play soccer today and i told him to go ahead and do it because for the first sunday in a long time, i had the liberty of taking an afternoon nap and he had the liberty of playing soccer. but he said that i was a bad influence instead! anyway, later, he asked me whether i wanted to go play too and i asked whether there would be any other girls and he said no. and me being a GIRL, said no galpals so no thanks. but it immediately brought me to a flashback of one sunny afternoon in khaolak, thailand earlier this year. we had just finished a "hard" day's work and were waiting for the song diao (open-air bus/van/lorry thingy) to fetch us back to our accomodations. a bunch of the guys went onto the mini open field with the two goal posts and started playing their own game of soccer. sheryl, the braver of us two, said hey lets go play! shireen said erm okaaaay.

next thing we were on the field playing with and against the guys and then a young thai girl by the name of naam (which means water) came up to us and tried to communicate to us that she wanted to play. so she joined us. and my gosh she was good! she could really dribble. and when she scored a goal, to mock the other team, she got down on all fours and used her head to roll the ball into the goal. and that became her trademark throughout the game. all we could do was stare in wide-eyed wonder at this little bare-footed village girl as she dashed about like lightning and exuded her charming and disarming presence on that pitch. those were the days man...those were the days...i think i left that place permanently changed. i think everyday leaves me permanently changed in some way.

people, movies, stories, accidents, songs, nature, the weather, termites, stars, internet, driving, msn conversations, loneliness, fear, poverty, love.....everything has the power to inspire and transform, to give courage to dream and explore and define new limits or overcome them....someone once told me...that my life is like a flower, as is my mind and my heart. and that they're all the same one flower. and all i had to do was just open it up and see how beautiful it was...

it sounded good then but i couldn't really understand it. but as the days go on and as the flower slowly blooms, i am slowly beginning to understand it and to see. one day, this flower shall die. but it will go back into the earth and nourish the soil for new ones to grow and though noone may remember it one day, it will continue to live on because after all, you could say that in that case, we are all actually the same one flower. don't ask me about reincarnation or next lives. i don't know anything about them. i just know that every action of mine has an eternal consequence...

a guy i got to know this term because he was in one of my project groups shared with me his inspirational story in the very recent past. i asked him to share it with me to help another friend who needed hope and inspiration. and he so graciously and generously obliged. i always felt there was something special about him and i really wanted to know what it was and the time finally came, rather aptly too. he also sent me a link and told me to read steve job's speech at stanford university's commencement. here's an excerpt...

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. "

on wednesday, a sense of peace and excitement reigned in my restlessly-beating heart. it was simply the realisation that everything IS perfect. imperfections and lack of wholeness were all just states of mind. and as i type this now, i realise that i have been taught this before. nothing is an accident and everything is so relevant. the most annoyingly irritating person in your life...is a gift too.

over the past few weeks or so, there were so many times when i just wished i could go "home". hours and hours on end spent in school, a place where you can practically call home, with all sorts of people. you have no choice (although you actually do) but really, you have no choice. i know i have to be here and i know i have to do what i have to do but all the time, the temptation of running away, running home, just gets stronger and stronger.

it's like, being thrown out into a jungle or into the deep blue sea or onto a safari. maybe you're too busy at first. too busy dealing with the thrill, fear, anxiety and excitement of such chaos. but after a while, you know you just want to go back to what you know. you just want to go back home.

i was telling janice. i don't why i was but i was telling janice. that i feel like a missionary who's been away from home for so long and just needs to go back home to something familiar. a lonely missionary. i did tell her that perhaps, missionary was too honourable an analogy. haha. but seriously, imagine what it must be like for foreign workers. like those who come to singapore to be construction workers. the moment they touch down, they're immediately thrown into chaos. the living conditions they put up with, the measly salary they worked hours on end under the sun for, the lack of freedom, the sudden immense distance between them and their loved ones, the few minutes of calling home from public homes to shout a few words that don't say alot but mean so much because of the mere connection to something familiar, the ill treatments, the way the public looks at them. and they thought they had finally reached paradise. imagine what they go through and my gosh, shireen, what were you saying?

don't be mistaken though. there's so much i am thankful for! so many things were accomplished over the week, taking away some of the weight, but i'm just missing something so much. i wish i knew what i was missing. friends seem so far away even though i see them all around everyday. it's not that i don't appreciate them. i don't even know who or what i am in their eyes sometimes anyway. there are all these circles around me but i feel like i'm in my own even though i talk to a gazillion people each day. maybe i'm missing a real kind of connection. there's really nothing at the surface. i just feel, in the words of a famous cliche, so near and yet...so far...

like a little girl sitting in the backseat of the car on a long journey home, persistently asking her father, "are we home yet?" even when it's not going to change a thing.

maybe it's because i'm moody and sleepy and tired and restless and it's 3.36am in the morning... i don't want to turn into a bitter, selfish and grumpy brat. i'm almost reaching the finish line. please don't let me stall now...

see, shireen. that's what happens when you don't read instructions. carefully. completely. careless mistakes in exams, queuing up in the wrong queues, going to places on the wrong days at the wrong times, missing out on important deadlines and events...

and now, a very stuffed up nose.

i bought a pack of Febs yesterday before my marketing meeting and popped a pill into my mouth. then a few more in between last night and now. and yet, my cold only seemed to get worse. then just 5 to 10 minutes ago, as i was about to pop another Febs pill into my mouth, i decided to read the box out of curiousity, because sometimes, i just like to read things for the sake of it. and i realised that i had been reading the wrong instructions all along. i had only read part of the instructions the first time. the part which was meant for kids under 12 (but of course i thought it was meant for me), and tried to make sure i followed the instructions properly so i wouldn't OD or something. so i had been taking one pill, 3 times a day, making sure to never exceed 4. but guess what? i didn't read the first part of the instructions which was addressed to adults and children over 12 years. "two tablets to be swallowed followed by one or two tablets every four hours until symptoms disappear."

bravo, shireen!

i think i always try to finish and get over things fast. and in doing so, i always try to find the fastest, shortest and easiest way possible. basically, i strongly believe in the principle of parsimony but i think that one can only say that one is practising such a principle if one has completely explored and understood all the possible options and then chosen the shortest, easiest and best one. me? perhaps i'm so impatient that i cut short the exploration and understanding part.

to myself: stop taking shortcuts unless you've explored and understood it all! now, go and sleep!

SMU looks like a high-tech refugee camp now. it's a public holiday (selamat hari raya to all my muslim friends!) and the library is closed and i think that ALL the GSRs (group study rooms) in the whole campus are occupied. there are students strewn everywhere, all along the corridoors, connected to their only lifeline these days, their laptops. students on the benches, students on the floor, students pulling benches along the corridoors to use as tables. some have come for classes, some have come for project meetings, some have come to study, and perhaps some who just LOVE school too much and have chosen to come anyway.

and they have the nerve to call it a holiday. haha.

my nose is blocked like a blocked-up nose! (haha, that's what we call a joyce-khoo-simile) i think i sound like darth vadar because i can only breathe through my mouth. awesome ah!(that's what you call a jeremy expression)

jeremy is calling me to go into the stupid aircon room to do our project now but i like sitting out here along the corridoor, listening to the noisy traffic and horny cars and breathing in the smog-filled air (which i can't really smell anyway). i think i got myself a pretty good seat out here. i think i'll come out here again later to do more nonsense....

happy holidays!

i was trying to park raymond's car just now and raymond and adrian (who were both in the car) kept panicking me and i was getting confused with the steering wheel and raymond was trying to help me steer at the same time and it looked as if he was trying to be the hero and save us all. as if that wasn't funny enough, here's the funnier part. in the midst of trying to park, i accidentally banged my hand on the horn and the poor couple in the car infront were wondering what their crime had been while i laughed and laughed like a maniac even before i had finished parking as raymond continued to steer and remind me of what a loser i was.

jeremy and i were filling up our organisers today with all the things we had to do over the next few weeks and with every new entry, we wanted to cry! "can i go to church with you?" jeremy said. "i need jesus also, only God can help me now!" and i laughed until i almost cried.

i thought i would be spared. adrian had passed the dastardly flu bug to jeremy first. and a few days later, khai caught it. and just when i thought the coast was clear, i sneezed once. then twice. and now, every few minutes. and my nose continues to leak and my eyes feel heavy.

i'm tired. goodnight.

i don't think life is really just a sunflower field. or a marigold symphony. or a smile without wrinkles. i think it's more like driving a manual car. more like a glass of coke. i think it's like a foo fighters' song. "best of you". no wonder it seems to stir something inside of me. some kind of energy, some kind of restlessness, some kind of wonderment, some kind of bliss....

sometimes i try to imagine what it's like. u2, smashing pumpkins, foo fighters...in the jamming studios...i try to picture the magic coming alive in those small little boxes of a room. 4 or 5 very unique and different individuals all making their dreams and thoughts and emotions and passion and yearnings, the deepest part of themselves, come alive and blend together to produce such amazing masterpieces. and all these parts of them intertwine and hit something deep inside of us who listen and they become part of us, as we become part of them. and the very same things they breathed life into is awakened in us. the musical big bang. the never-ending story of creation.

driving my whole family around today was so surreal. i remember the time when i was still a little girl. i used to observe my parents driving and imagine the day i would finally drive. i really admired them, they way they were able to drive so skilfully and talk at the same time or change the radio station or even turn around to do silly things or scold us. and how they knew the roads so well. i was always amazed by how they always seemed to know where they were going, as though there was not a single road in singapore they were unsure of and not a single destination they didn't know how to get to. i always knew we'd get to where we intended to safely and easily with them behind the wheel. it seemed like driving was only for my parents and the other adults and older cousins. and as much as i dreamt about driving, it never seemed like the day i was to drive would ever come.

and then it did. today, i was driving my whole family to join the rest of my extended family for our yearly deepavali dinner and it was just the strangest and most surreal feeling. i was suddenly out on the big open road with each family member's life in my hands which were holding on to the steering wheel. and to think that i was that little girl who used to only dream of the day i would drive but never believed it would arrive and thus only resorted to taking turns with my brothers to be make-belief taxi-drivers driving each other to different countries or some other destination on our late great-grandma's swing or in our garden or front porch or our own beds.

today, aunty asha brought a game with her. it was a box of cards containing all sorts of questions. and one of them got me thinking. it went something like, "what is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of your childhood?" some said it was climbing trees. others talked about the memory of living in a shophouse or some kinds of food they used to eat. pravin talked about the balloon game called idiotic slimeball which i taught him and jeevan when we were younger. and this made me realise that what struck me most about my childhood was the imagination of us MUTTON-NI siblings combined. we actually came up with our own company called SPJ Pte Ltd (Shireen Pravin Jeevan Private Limited). We used to play "Office" where i'd be the boss and they were my employees and we'd be scribbling using pens (because adults used pens) on empty pieces of paper. (scribbling because it seemed like what adults did when they wrote cursive and signed their names here, there,everywhere) we punched buttons onto our mickey mouse calculators as though they were our computers. we came up with our own magazines and newspapers which i still keep. we made up the "news" for our newspapers and blatantly plagiarised "Did you know?" books to come up with articles for our "discovery" magazines. we actually intended to sell them but never did. we came up with our own concerts for special occasions. these were made up of our self-composed songs, self-choreographed dances and self-created scripts and characters. we went on our own adventures, making up all sorts of imaginary characters and weapons and tools and whatnot. we even had our own SPJ museum where we created a whole bunch of works made out of these thingies called "clever sticks" which were like lego blocks but as sticks instead. then we invited our neighbours over and shined torches on our exhibits which we even labeled as we pretended to be guides with our fake accents and brought them around our darkened room. we also invented and played all these silly games which only we could understand and think were fun. even as i was watching our italy trip videos the other day, i was still amused and amazed as i saw the craziness that shines forth whenever my brothers and i are together. filming a "twister"-style snippet on the top of the duomo in florence, italy. i'm sure the people around must've thought we were crazy. trying to film a "blair witch" style clip as we descended the eerie stairs which led us to the top of that duomo initially. it brought back memories of all the holidays when my brothers and i shared rooms together and had those room to ourselves. the crazy, fun and hilarious things we did!

just now, as i was driving them all home, my mom kept scolding me for driving too fast and my brothers kept defending me and complimenting my driving and it really made a difference. we fought alot, yelled alot, hit each other and pulled each other's hair alot, screamed all sorts of words at each other, told on each other all the time but i know without my brothers, life would be so different. we are just one helluva trio together! we are each so different and yet, we can understand each other so well. when i was a little girl back then, i never thought i'd say this...but i'll say it now. i really love my brothers, pravin and jeevan! and i thank god for them. they've brought me to and through many difficult times and a childhood i'll never forget. =)

just now, my brother saw the expensive bracelet i was wearing on my hand and told me the price of what i was wearing (because my mom revealed the price to him before) and that he would never have any of his girlfriends wear something like that. and i retorted that it was cos he was never going to buy something like that for them and he agreed. my mom made me wear the bracelet though. but i thought about it and i realised that i really am not that kind of girl. i'm not the kind of girl who will get impressed with flowers or expensive jewellery. not that i'd be ungrateful but i just don't have such a desire for these things. i told him that and he could understand because he knows that is just how i am. the kind of girl who would be more impressed with a really cool yo-yo or a gigantic book filled with guitar tabs of excellent songs or a fun do-it-yourself art thingy or something like that. in many ways, i have become a a young woman. and in many other ways, i'm still a little kid i think...

the days are going by so fast. the deadlines are fast approaching. the projects, exams, test and term paper....all piling and getting dangerously close. i keep reminding myself that there is a time for everything; for studying, for doing projects, for going to school, for attending meetings and of course, for resting and playing. and i think about all the small little moments of joy and fun throughout the day, and things just don't seem that bad or bad at all anymore. like when i think about the times with my friends and family. driving. the silly jokes i heard or told. the love shown to me by a stranger or by me to one. wonderful songs i got to listen to, new songs and old. the strange and interesting experiences throughout the day. soooo many things that remind me about what it is to be alive and what matters most.

I was too weak to give in
Too strong to lose
My heart is under arrest again
But I break loose
My head is giving me life or death
But I can’t choose
I swear I’ll never give in
I refuse

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
Your trust, you must
Confess

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?
Oh...