taking a break. =)
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
you know, i've often been told that i have attained a certain sense of self-awareness, one i thought i could take pride in. but you know what? self-awareness does not equal maturity, especially in actions, and definitely in love. some people manage to skip all that psycho-analysing of self and graduate with first class honours in loving maturely, and some others are excellent at all that thinking stuff in between but still have a long way to go when in comes to the bigness of their hearts (i guess i'm in the latter group of "some people"). it's not even about IQ vs EQ anymore. it's about EQ vs "actually loving". and that's just what amazed me about you from the start, it still amazes me. if only...
i mean, i could probably write a thesis on what perfect love should be, how an ideal relationship should work and why people would feel the way they do and i'm sure i could possibly impress a few people. but, you know what? so what?
i just wish i didn't have to...to...i can't even bring myself to say it. it really stings.
i mean, i could probably write a thesis on what perfect love should be, how an ideal relationship should work and why people would feel the way they do and i'm sure i could possibly impress a few people. but, you know what? so what?
if i speak in human and angelic tongues,but no, i'm not going to beat myself up over this. i'm aware (there i go again) that this is just who i am and how big my heart really is now, and i know it's gonna take some stretching, major upheavals and a hell lot of growth pains before i release my hurricane of love to the world the way i was meant to! (drama!)
but do not have love,
i am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.
and if i have the gift of prophecy
and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge;
if I have all faith so as to move mountains
but do not have love,
i am nothing.
if i give away everything i own,
and if i hand my body over
so that i may boast
but do not have love,
i gain nothing.
i just wish i didn't have to...to...i can't even bring myself to say it. it really stings.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
waiting for m
like two lovers in a roomful of strangers, when their eyes first meet, time stands still, so they say. they are amongst the noisy banter, the listless search to fill voids unbeknownst to all, the harrowing task of bridging gaps and filling silences with small talk, and yet, they are not of it. and as i sit here at this empty busstop waiting for m, i gaze up at those clouds above. that's all i have to do each time i want to feel that life is bigger than all this, all this. i love how small the clouds make me feel. i love how such splendour and majesty is only a tilt of a head away despite the smallness that i am. i love how i am not only a witness to that greatness but also a part of it. oh, clouds never fail to astound me. those glorious wisps of white and grey, we make a connection now, those clouds and i. the music streaming through my earphones provides an apt soundtrack to our secret romance. the buses and cars continue to whiz by, guitar-toting teens yell out to each other as they run to catch a 103, the church infront of me has almost totally emptied itself of the 6pm mass attendees, but i'm with the clouds and time has stood still for us. we move to our own slow rhythm and we go where we please, stopping whenever we feel like it. i only have eyes for the clouds now. and for those few moments, i'm somewhere else, not here. and then, a few seconds later, i am again, somewhere else, not here. my heart felt good. i prayed i didn't forget. i wrote it down.
like two lovers in a roomful of strangers, when their eyes first meet, time stands still, so they say. they are amongst the noisy banter, the listless search to fill voids unbeknownst to all, the harrowing task of bridging gaps and filling silences with small talk, and yet, they are not of it. and as i sit here at this empty busstop waiting for m, i gaze up at those clouds above. that's all i have to do each time i want to feel that life is bigger than all this, all this. i love how small the clouds make me feel. i love how such splendour and majesty is only a tilt of a head away despite the smallness that i am. i love how i am not only a witness to that greatness but also a part of it. oh, clouds never fail to astound me. those glorious wisps of white and grey, we make a connection now, those clouds and i. the music streaming through my earphones provides an apt soundtrack to our secret romance. the buses and cars continue to whiz by, guitar-toting teens yell out to each other as they run to catch a 103, the church infront of me has almost totally emptied itself of the 6pm mass attendees, but i'm with the clouds and time has stood still for us. we move to our own slow rhythm and we go where we please, stopping whenever we feel like it. i only have eyes for the clouds now. and for those few moments, i'm somewhere else, not here. and then, a few seconds later, i am again, somewhere else, not here. my heart felt good. i prayed i didn't forget. i wrote it down.
Monday, October 06, 2008
and isn't it ironic...don't you think?
an old man turned ninety-eight
he won the lottery and died the next day
it was just 2.5 seconds of vengeful gnawing and grating of that gate on the unsuspecting blue volvo and i didn't know whether to laugh or cry at it all!
the night before, i gave myself some pats on my back, pleased at the work i did and the hong bao (red packet used to present money in as gifts) i got for preparing a video and photo montage for a wedding that took place just a few hours before. that night, i lay in bed beaming to myself, recalling the smiles of the couple and their families and friends, replaying the praises and compliments lavished on me and of course, reminding myself that my bank account was going to be plumped up just a little bit more.
the next day, i woke up excited and slightly more hopeful about the future. i decided to go for a haircut. i walked out of the salon with bangs, having been successfully cajoled by the hairstylist.
then it happened, that very night.
i was driving into a certain place. (lets just call it that in case i get sued! though i stupidly complained about the accident to the boss of that place whom i personally know yes what a bimbo i am!). it was pretty dark, only one gate was opened, and i drove my dad's car in ever so slowly and even braked suddenly once, seeing how close my side view mirror was to the gate on my right. thinking the worst was over, i concentrated on turning in front instead. and that 2.5 seconds of turning my eyes away from that gate was all it took to cause a dent on the right rear door and a nice constellation of scratches to boot. immediately, i saw that big hong bao deflate, just like my balloon of joy a few moments before. poooooooooof!!
therein lay a few ironies....
irony 1. refer to alanis morissette's lyrics quoted at top of entry. fat hong bao today, skinny hong bao tomorrow.
irony 2: of all the days of my life, i chose to cut bangs on that fateful day, never daring to before, since i was 4? and for the first time since i started driving, i met my first...."bang", complete with dent and scratches!
irony 3: you can be soooooo damn cautious with everything in your life, trying to control every single part of it, but you're only human. you turn away for 2 seconds, and everything you've worked so hard for can just...disintegrate. just like that.
and i thought about the rat and the tooth he cracked the night before he was scheduled to go for his dental appointment. he brushes and flosses more than i ever do or ever will. he goes to the dentist more regularly than me (the last time i went was when i was in primary school or something??). and he had been postponing this particular appointment for a while and had finally made up his mind to go for it on this certain day. and the night before, while he was eating dinner with a friend, he suddenly felt this little piece swimming around with his food in his mouth and realised that one of his teeth was loose and jiggling. he had no idea what to make of this, especially because of the fact that he had finally decided to see the dentist the next morning, clearly not foreseeing this tooth-chipping incident. besides, its not like he even bit into anything hard and he had always taken such great care of his teeth!
when he told me the story, i swear my first response was amazement and awe. that his tooth could have chipped at any time but it did so only the night before his dental appointment, as though someone had foreseen this tooth-chipping thing and prepared so damn precisely the timing of his dental appointment! of course, the rat couldn't get past the fact that only bad things happen to him and he couldn't see or feel the amazement and excitement i felt at this realisation. how could he? he was in immense pain and discomfort, aggravated by burning, provoking questions about his life and the state of it.
then i thought about that car incident i had. how come i couldn't see it the same way i saw the rat's experience? why hadn't, or rather, WOULDN'T i see that i had gotten the money just when i needed it?? noone could have predicted this silly accident. and it's not like i even have a stable job at the moment. and yet, i had the cash on hand precisely when i needed it, no later, no earlier, just on time. but i refused to see it that way, no way. i was just mulling and fuming over how i had worked so hard to create that montage, how i could not show my parents that i was saving money and my bank account was really not that empty, how i was back to square one again, how of all the things i could have spent that money on, it would have to be on something as silly and mundane as repairing car damages that could have been avoided in the first place. hell, i didn't even plan on being in that place at all till the last minute that day, and only after much deliberation and finally, resignation. oh, all the what-ifs and whys!!
yea, just too busy pitying myself and worrying about things i never ever worried about before, like money. i mean, it's not that i take money for granted that i don't worry about it. rather, i'm immensely thankful for the comfortable and stable life my parents have provided for me so selflessly. it's just that, money has never been anywhere at the top of my list of priorities. when i was younger, and this could even be last year, i could foresee myself living with much less and being totally and unconditionally joyful! and then, with all this stress of getting a "proper" job and "doing something with my life", i can't help thinking that this means making lots of money to shut everyone up and show them that i can "do something with my life" and "get a proper job". i know, what a sellout.
which brings me to irony 4. of all days, i decide to start on yet another of paulo coelho's book (the valkyries) the afternoon i'm getting my haircut. and it's all about dreams, as are most of his books, and how almost all of us always end up killing the things we love most, like our dreams and the people closest to us. and that accident and my response to it just opened my eyes to the fact that i've been storing my riches in the wrong places, killing my dreams in the process.
but you can't see all this if you don't look into the distance, into the horizon, can you? as we grow older, we stop looking around, marvelling at how new and fascinating everything is, and we start to look inwards and wonder why our souls are shrinking. why wouldn't they be shrinking? it's like the universe only contains us and our rituals now and how alone we sometimes end up feeling. when we look into that horizon, we expand our universes and our souls have more room to grow, to feel, to see, to revel and explore! jesus said, "let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
and today as i was at mass, i asked myself, could i still sit here and praise and thank you, god, for everything in my life, even and especially for the things you took away? and now i can say, "you give and take away, still my heart will choose to say, blessed be your name."
who knew 2.5 seconds could teach someone so much? it could.
mr. play-it-safe was afraid to fly
he packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
he waited his whole damn life to take that flight
and as the plane crashed down he thought
"well isn't this nice..."
and isn't it ironic ... don't you think?
(disclaimer: the rat says i got the details wrong. he didn't chip his tooth during dinner and all the negative vibes come from me!! =P)
an old man turned ninety-eight
he won the lottery and died the next day
it was just 2.5 seconds of vengeful gnawing and grating of that gate on the unsuspecting blue volvo and i didn't know whether to laugh or cry at it all!
the night before, i gave myself some pats on my back, pleased at the work i did and the hong bao (red packet used to present money in as gifts) i got for preparing a video and photo montage for a wedding that took place just a few hours before. that night, i lay in bed beaming to myself, recalling the smiles of the couple and their families and friends, replaying the praises and compliments lavished on me and of course, reminding myself that my bank account was going to be plumped up just a little bit more.
the next day, i woke up excited and slightly more hopeful about the future. i decided to go for a haircut. i walked out of the salon with bangs, having been successfully cajoled by the hairstylist.
then it happened, that very night.
i was driving into a certain place. (lets just call it that in case i get sued! though i stupidly complained about the accident to the boss of that place whom i personally know yes what a bimbo i am!). it was pretty dark, only one gate was opened, and i drove my dad's car in ever so slowly and even braked suddenly once, seeing how close my side view mirror was to the gate on my right. thinking the worst was over, i concentrated on turning in front instead. and that 2.5 seconds of turning my eyes away from that gate was all it took to cause a dent on the right rear door and a nice constellation of scratches to boot. immediately, i saw that big hong bao deflate, just like my balloon of joy a few moments before. poooooooooof!!
therein lay a few ironies....
irony 1. refer to alanis morissette's lyrics quoted at top of entry. fat hong bao today, skinny hong bao tomorrow.
irony 2: of all the days of my life, i chose to cut bangs on that fateful day, never daring to before, since i was 4? and for the first time since i started driving, i met my first...."bang", complete with dent and scratches!
irony 3: you can be soooooo damn cautious with everything in your life, trying to control every single part of it, but you're only human. you turn away for 2 seconds, and everything you've worked so hard for can just...disintegrate. just like that.
and i thought about the rat and the tooth he cracked the night before he was scheduled to go for his dental appointment. he brushes and flosses more than i ever do or ever will. he goes to the dentist more regularly than me (the last time i went was when i was in primary school or something??). and he had been postponing this particular appointment for a while and had finally made up his mind to go for it on this certain day. and the night before, while he was eating dinner with a friend, he suddenly felt this little piece swimming around with his food in his mouth and realised that one of his teeth was loose and jiggling. he had no idea what to make of this, especially because of the fact that he had finally decided to see the dentist the next morning, clearly not foreseeing this tooth-chipping incident. besides, its not like he even bit into anything hard and he had always taken such great care of his teeth!
when he told me the story, i swear my first response was amazement and awe. that his tooth could have chipped at any time but it did so only the night before his dental appointment, as though someone had foreseen this tooth-chipping thing and prepared so damn precisely the timing of his dental appointment! of course, the rat couldn't get past the fact that only bad things happen to him and he couldn't see or feel the amazement and excitement i felt at this realisation. how could he? he was in immense pain and discomfort, aggravated by burning, provoking questions about his life and the state of it.
then i thought about that car incident i had. how come i couldn't see it the same way i saw the rat's experience? why hadn't, or rather, WOULDN'T i see that i had gotten the money just when i needed it?? noone could have predicted this silly accident. and it's not like i even have a stable job at the moment. and yet, i had the cash on hand precisely when i needed it, no later, no earlier, just on time. but i refused to see it that way, no way. i was just mulling and fuming over how i had worked so hard to create that montage, how i could not show my parents that i was saving money and my bank account was really not that empty, how i was back to square one again, how of all the things i could have spent that money on, it would have to be on something as silly and mundane as repairing car damages that could have been avoided in the first place. hell, i didn't even plan on being in that place at all till the last minute that day, and only after much deliberation and finally, resignation. oh, all the what-ifs and whys!!
yea, just too busy pitying myself and worrying about things i never ever worried about before, like money. i mean, it's not that i take money for granted that i don't worry about it. rather, i'm immensely thankful for the comfortable and stable life my parents have provided for me so selflessly. it's just that, money has never been anywhere at the top of my list of priorities. when i was younger, and this could even be last year, i could foresee myself living with much less and being totally and unconditionally joyful! and then, with all this stress of getting a "proper" job and "doing something with my life", i can't help thinking that this means making lots of money to shut everyone up and show them that i can "do something with my life" and "get a proper job". i know, what a sellout.
which brings me to irony 4. of all days, i decide to start on yet another of paulo coelho's book (the valkyries) the afternoon i'm getting my haircut. and it's all about dreams, as are most of his books, and how almost all of us always end up killing the things we love most, like our dreams and the people closest to us. and that accident and my response to it just opened my eyes to the fact that i've been storing my riches in the wrong places, killing my dreams in the process.
but you can't see all this if you don't look into the distance, into the horizon, can you? as we grow older, we stop looking around, marvelling at how new and fascinating everything is, and we start to look inwards and wonder why our souls are shrinking. why wouldn't they be shrinking? it's like the universe only contains us and our rituals now and how alone we sometimes end up feeling. when we look into that horizon, we expand our universes and our souls have more room to grow, to feel, to see, to revel and explore! jesus said, "let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
and today as i was at mass, i asked myself, could i still sit here and praise and thank you, god, for everything in my life, even and especially for the things you took away? and now i can say, "you give and take away, still my heart will choose to say, blessed be your name."
who knew 2.5 seconds could teach someone so much? it could.
mr. play-it-safe was afraid to fly
he packed his suitcase and kissed his kids good-bye
he waited his whole damn life to take that flight
and as the plane crashed down he thought
"well isn't this nice..."
and isn't it ironic ... don't you think?
(disclaimer: the rat says i got the details wrong. he didn't chip his tooth during dinner and all the negative vibes come from me!! =P)
Sunday, August 17, 2008
glitter
it's like god accidentally knocked over a bottle of glitter while he was turning the lights off and he said, "ah heck, i'll clean it up in the morning," because he was so tired from just doing and doing and doing and thinking and thinking and thinking and everyone was always taking and taking and taking and "they're saying it's my fault now?" and "oh! look at what a mess i made made made...heaven?!!" and as he sighed in awe while his heart overflowed, his breath carried some of that bizarre glittery powder to the other corners of the universe that was his room.
i close my eyes now and remember that night. the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance, the sound of the gentle waves lapping onto the lake shore, the fact that it may only have been 10pm but it looked like the rest of humanity had vanished from the face of the earth, poof! i remember how still yet alive everything was, how my "hero" younger bro, pravin, was wearing a singlet and freezing to death, how my butt got a shock when it decided to make itself comfortable on a cold, cold bench. but mostly, i remember the stars. there were so many, too many! supernumerary (dictionary.com's word of the day)!! i mused about how anyone could ever have come up with the concept of "constellations" had they been staring into the crowded insanely beautiful mess i was staring at then. i think now, that if i ever become a psychologist, i'd use the cloudless night sky at te anau as my rorschach ink(glitter)blot test and i reckon that somewhere along the way in my patients' attempts to draw lines and forms in that mess, they'd surrender to the phenomenon of awe and wonder and forget why they were seeing me in the first place. oh, and i caught some shooting stars gliding slowly across the sky that night and i wondered whether the two of us were the only ones who saw them at that moment and i felt doubly, triply, quadruply lucky as i had always believed that to see even one in your life was a remarkable feat.
i think of the strange calm i feel now even as i know i may have messed up big time this time, again. a mess i knew i was making even while i was making it, a mess i just needed to make. it's like i was inside looking out and outside looking in all at once. i know i could have stopped myself but i also know that i couldn't. maybe one day i'll feel sorry. maybe. and now, i think of that sudden silence that shouldn't be there, that little empty space in that part of my universe tonight. it should make me anxious, it should make me pick up that phone and do something foolish and irrational. but i just look at that phone, that blank, blank screen, and i look away and marvel at how it is unusually quiet in my head. i think of god knocking over that bottle of glitter and thinking of the mess he was going to have to clean up and then looking around to discover that life was still beautiful, in fact, possibly more beautiful than ever. i think of that deeply silent night where my heart drummed loud and free to a tune only i could hear as i pondered that purposeful gleaming mess and how perfect it was knowing that i/we were the only one/s who could have been witnessing that spectacle together with those great, majestic, ancient mountains in the distance then. you were not there, life was more silent than usual....but it was all, amazingly okay.
i know i'll be okay. =)
Sunday, July 27, 2008
we're looking for the beach cafes as we walk along the sidewalks of cronulla, a beachside suburb in sydney. we meet a nice old lady who is everything a nice old lady can be.
"where are the beachside cafes?" we ask.
"i'm going towards them. you can walk with me," she says, with a welcoming smile and a soft, gentle voice. she interviews us and says, "welcome to australia," when she finds out we're not locals and were here for world youth day.
"coming home from work?" i ask, noticing her bag and the time of day.
"oh, no no. i was playing bingo with the other old ladies. we play bingo every monday. but my feet were sore and i decided to go for a walk." after which, she starts explaining bingo to us.
as we reach the first cafe, she bids us the kind of goodbye which you say to someone you've known for some time and you're seeing off at an airport or something and walks into the st vincent de paul store for a little afternoon shopping.
we walk down to the beach and it is, whats-the-best-word...pleasant. some young guys are playing some sorta rugby, it's almost sunset, we muse about how nice it is that there is a gym facing the sea and how the locals' equivalent of playing basketball on concrete between concrete in singapore is playing soccer on the beach surrounded by the waves and the majestic hues of the sunset sky every evening in cronulla.
and it's hard to imagine that just 2.5 years ago, racial riots occured here. and fast-forward to today, as i'm sitting in the car while we're on the way to dinner, i think about all this and my life and the lives of people i know while listening to the conversations going on around me about the strife and joys of other people. why do people do this? why do people tear at themselves and at each other when they have everything?
as the conversation in the car moves along, so do my thoughts. we're talking about the difficult yet necessary choices people have had to make. i breathe in deeper and my heart beats faster. will i ever dare to make those choices, at least one? a choice that will forever change the course of my life? while i was in sydney, we had a conversation about che guevera and the motorcycle diaries. his initial path was to be a doctor and a roadtrip changed his life forever. but the crucial step was allowing that change to take place. i know i've yet to be so much more, and i have the most ominous and pressing feeling that it will mean that my life will be forever changed and that makes me want to just be, well, not much. but then, boom boom boom like fireworks in my heart, these dreams rise up from time to time and send electric shocks through me. at these times, i feel like my heart would just burst through me any second if i sit here any longer. then, i just let the moment pass me by, i let the dreams grow smaller, i shrink with them. will these dreams forever pound against my chest, waiting to take flight, waiting to be..something? waiting?
i was watching a movie on my laptop with earphones plugged in when i heard the low and loud rumble of the fighter planes probably preparing for national day. i run to the window and look for them in the sky. this is my second favourite part of national day (first being fireworks, of course). and as i gazed at those planes, i was washed over by an epiphany. it's like you were in one of those planes, soaring, where you should be. i don't want your dreams to forever pound against your chest either.
i think about all this now. the collective pain and joy of this world. i think of how even the forgotten and the unlikely ones would each have their moments of glory and tragedy and romance and heartbreak and everything in between, how each one of us could have an epic movie made after us. and my gosh, it hits me that this world is so alive! all these desires, whether it is the desire to be with someone you love, the desire to end it all, the desire to have it all, all these desires that drive us, mould us, tear us apart and make us beautiful all at once, all these emotions and motions, all this...life!
try it, just zoom in to one person right now, anyone, and then imagine everything you can to the finest details about this person's life. i used to do that and still do sometimes. i'd be sitting in the bus, looking out of the window, and my eyes would zoom in onto the elderly man on his bicycle at the side of the road or the construction worker sitting at the back of a lorry. i'd start imagining what they were like as kids together with all the innocence and brutality of being a kid, the aches in their hearts as they remembered home and wives and girlfriends and lovers-who-never-were and their favourite food and their daily rituals, the pangs of loneliness that just couldn't be shaken off, did they lose someone they love? was this the life they imagined they would one day live? and the dreams they carried in their hearts, are they still pounding against their chests or have they been set free?
and it's funny because i realise now that the more i turn my eyes onto myself, the less i am aware that i am alive and have a mission and dreams. yet, the more i look at the world and the more i am a witness to the lives of others, the more i find this sense of hope and awe, and with that, the awareness that i am, indeed, more alive than ever and have a mission and purpose here.
do you dare do you dare do i dare?
"where are the beachside cafes?" we ask.
"i'm going towards them. you can walk with me," she says, with a welcoming smile and a soft, gentle voice. she interviews us and says, "welcome to australia," when she finds out we're not locals and were here for world youth day.
"coming home from work?" i ask, noticing her bag and the time of day.
"oh, no no. i was playing bingo with the other old ladies. we play bingo every monday. but my feet were sore and i decided to go for a walk." after which, she starts explaining bingo to us.
as we reach the first cafe, she bids us the kind of goodbye which you say to someone you've known for some time and you're seeing off at an airport or something and walks into the st vincent de paul store for a little afternoon shopping.
we walk down to the beach and it is, whats-the-best-word...pleasant. some young guys are playing some sorta rugby, it's almost sunset, we muse about how nice it is that there is a gym facing the sea and how the locals' equivalent of playing basketball on concrete between concrete in singapore is playing soccer on the beach surrounded by the waves and the majestic hues of the sunset sky every evening in cronulla.
and it's hard to imagine that just 2.5 years ago, racial riots occured here. and fast-forward to today, as i'm sitting in the car while we're on the way to dinner, i think about all this and my life and the lives of people i know while listening to the conversations going on around me about the strife and joys of other people. why do people do this? why do people tear at themselves and at each other when they have everything?
as the conversation in the car moves along, so do my thoughts. we're talking about the difficult yet necessary choices people have had to make. i breathe in deeper and my heart beats faster. will i ever dare to make those choices, at least one? a choice that will forever change the course of my life? while i was in sydney, we had a conversation about che guevera and the motorcycle diaries. his initial path was to be a doctor and a roadtrip changed his life forever. but the crucial step was allowing that change to take place. i know i've yet to be so much more, and i have the most ominous and pressing feeling that it will mean that my life will be forever changed and that makes me want to just be, well, not much. but then, boom boom boom like fireworks in my heart, these dreams rise up from time to time and send electric shocks through me. at these times, i feel like my heart would just burst through me any second if i sit here any longer. then, i just let the moment pass me by, i let the dreams grow smaller, i shrink with them. will these dreams forever pound against my chest, waiting to take flight, waiting to be..something? waiting?
i was watching a movie on my laptop with earphones plugged in when i heard the low and loud rumble of the fighter planes probably preparing for national day. i run to the window and look for them in the sky. this is my second favourite part of national day (first being fireworks, of course). and as i gazed at those planes, i was washed over by an epiphany. it's like you were in one of those planes, soaring, where you should be. i don't want your dreams to forever pound against your chest either.
i think about all this now. the collective pain and joy of this world. i think of how even the forgotten and the unlikely ones would each have their moments of glory and tragedy and romance and heartbreak and everything in between, how each one of us could have an epic movie made after us. and my gosh, it hits me that this world is so alive! all these desires, whether it is the desire to be with someone you love, the desire to end it all, the desire to have it all, all these desires that drive us, mould us, tear us apart and make us beautiful all at once, all these emotions and motions, all this...life!
try it, just zoom in to one person right now, anyone, and then imagine everything you can to the finest details about this person's life. i used to do that and still do sometimes. i'd be sitting in the bus, looking out of the window, and my eyes would zoom in onto the elderly man on his bicycle at the side of the road or the construction worker sitting at the back of a lorry. i'd start imagining what they were like as kids together with all the innocence and brutality of being a kid, the aches in their hearts as they remembered home and wives and girlfriends and lovers-who-never-were and their favourite food and their daily rituals, the pangs of loneliness that just couldn't be shaken off, did they lose someone they love? was this the life they imagined they would one day live? and the dreams they carried in their hearts, are they still pounding against their chests or have they been set free?
and it's funny because i realise now that the more i turn my eyes onto myself, the less i am aware that i am alive and have a mission and dreams. yet, the more i look at the world and the more i am a witness to the lives of others, the more i find this sense of hope and awe, and with that, the awareness that i am, indeed, more alive than ever and have a mission and purpose here.
do you dare do you dare do i dare?
Friday, July 04, 2008
friction
so just now i was watching "what would happen if.." on the national geographic channel and there was this segment called "brain in a box" or something where these three smart dudes were discussing for 10 minutes about the importance of FRICTION. so fast-forward here, fast-forward there, my eyes glazing over and there i am zoning out when, after talking about cars and motion and particles moving, they finally reach a conclusion:
wow, seriously, what a thing to say! according to the build-up of their conclusion, friction is the force which holds everything together, right down to the level of particles (hmmmmm). and how they ended up with "no friction = no life" will need alot more thinking , remembering (of my physics notes in days of yore) and research on my part to let that sink in. it's like comparing friction to oxygen, as though it were some sort of life force. or is it?
it got me thinking really. ideally, we'd all want smooth-sailing lives without inertia, without worry, without forces opposing our direct line of motion, the fulfilment of our dreams, etc. then, we have this bunch of guys coming in and saying that without friction, there can be no life and that friction is the force which holds everything together. so to even have a life which is ideal, there needs to be friction to even have life in the first place. BUT without friction, there can be no life, so there is no such thing as a life without friction in the physical universe because life cannot exist without friction??? something about "no friction = no life" somehow really fascinates me and i can't stop thinking about it.
i'm sorry to disappoint you but this post has no deep conclusion on my part. yet.
so just now i was watching "what would happen if.." on the national geographic channel and there was this segment called "brain in a box" or something where these three smart dudes were discussing for 10 minutes about the importance of FRICTION. so fast-forward here, fast-forward there, my eyes glazing over and there i am zoning out when, after talking about cars and motion and particles moving, they finally reach a conclusion:
NO FRICTION = NO LIFE
wow, seriously, what a thing to say! according to the build-up of their conclusion, friction is the force which holds everything together, right down to the level of particles (hmmmmm). and how they ended up with "no friction = no life" will need alot more thinking , remembering (of my physics notes in days of yore) and research on my part to let that sink in. it's like comparing friction to oxygen, as though it were some sort of life force. or is it?
it got me thinking really. ideally, we'd all want smooth-sailing lives without inertia, without worry, without forces opposing our direct line of motion, the fulfilment of our dreams, etc. then, we have this bunch of guys coming in and saying that without friction, there can be no life and that friction is the force which holds everything together. so to even have a life which is ideal, there needs to be friction to even have life in the first place. BUT without friction, there can be no life, so there is no such thing as a life without friction in the physical universe because life cannot exist without friction??? something about "no friction = no life" somehow really fascinates me and i can't stop thinking about it.
i'm sorry to disappoint you but this post has no deep conclusion on my part. yet.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
this tiny heart, all neatly wrapped up and packaged in a confused haze. those hot tears have cooled; a thin layer of frost remains. and i know you still beat in your bruised state, i felt you resonate with the sunset. i know that given half the chance, you would burst right through me, your rays stretching to the horizons, even if just for a second. speak to me, oh my heart. what is god whispering to you in the stillness? what am i hearing but not listening to? what am i looking at but not seeing?
Thursday, May 08, 2008
the perfect remedy
as cheryl (probably heaven's salesgirl of the year) shared about how she shared her secret remedy to a woman whose husband was was in the pits of depression, going from doctor to doctor, trying to find something that would remove that heavy piece of stone from his heart, i couldn't help but feel inspired to try that remedy myself. it was a remedy i had once faithfully gone back to over and over again before disillusionment and cynicism drove me to dump it aside together with my bible for later use and occasional tuesday nights.
it's probably no longer a secret that i've been depressed for the longest time. where i once used to carry this heavy sadness in my heart, i now even wear it. it's not hard to tell really. the lack of energy and drive to do things, the tired eyes and old demeanor even though i've only just turned 23, the anti-social behavior, the short temper and excess of emotions, the resistance to forgive and let go, to hold on to every single grievance caused to me and remember it for dear life...what a load to carry around, no wonder this heart is so tired, no wonder death sometimes seems like such a welcome respite.
tonight was no different from the past few nights for the past few weeks. the usual upsets, the usual loneliness, the usual desire to want to curl up on my bed and cry to nobody. but then i thought about cheryl and how in the deepest darkest crevices of loneliness and pain she can find the grace to pray and pray and pray, how she can find it in her to love me and all the people around her, not just friends or family but complete strangers. and i felt inspired to pick up that remedy from that dusty shelf once more.
i can't begin to describe how beautiful it was. as i sat there and quietened myself, being mindful that i was tuning myself into god's frequency, i started to feel calmer and allowed myself to be vulnerable to god. even now as i close my eyes from time to time to recall that experience, a wave of calm washes over me. it makes me feel thankful for my humanity and the experience and purification of faith and love through it. the encountering of jesus through the depths of my human pain and the amazing love that greets me and transforms me.
at that point, i was struggling with anxiety and unforgiveness, my body felt bruised and battered because i was just so tired and anxious and sad. i now know that being old is not having lived a certain number of years or walking slower than before. being old is really being weighed down with disillusionment, unforgiveness, cynicism and sloth, to name a few. i picked up henri nouwen's "inner voice of love" which cheryl gave to me and read a chapter which spoke about the two selves, the one you left behind because you were fearful and the one you became to appear formidable and how while you long for your old, intimate self, you push it away just so you'd survive. but you were only surviving without living. that's really how i feel these days. from wanting to be "jesus" to everyone, i got tired of being trampled on and took on the opposite form, shooting my mouth as soon as i was hurt, harbouring unforgiveness like a sacred treasure and doing pretty much whatever the hell i wanted. i was rebelling with a vengeance. henri nouwen wasn't far off when he penned down this reflection. he noted how that little, fearful self shouldn't be forgotten and pushed away but be made to become part of us again and that if we only allow ourselves to live with it, how much we would learn, how we would find that jesus is dwelling in that weak, fearful, human self. with all these thoughts forming in my mind, i picked up my journal which i had neglected for almost a year and instead of penning things down, i started flipping through, and i was deeply awed. i had experience those same emotions, those same thoughts then, and through those writings and my little tete-a-tetes with god, i realised how much that old, fearful self had so much to teach my now "formidable" self, how you really are your closest and most intimate friend. i was tearing when i read about the sufferings of shireen then and how i wish i could have warned her, pulled her out of it but as i read on, i was more amazed by her faith, her eagerness to forgive, to obey and to love. and i was inspired once more.
prayer is a beautiful thing. through that little prayer time just now, i found myself transforming from a person of bitterness and anxiety to one of love and forgiveness. i found myself being able to separate myself from experiences and hurt and to forgive and love those who would not understand or love me the way i wanted them to. i found myself wanting to not only pray for myself but for others. each time i worried about the reactions of others at my attempts to make peace and forgive, thinking, what if they reject me or think me a fool, i was reminded that my inclination to forgive was really between me and jesus and not because of the person in question. his/her willingness to forgive would be between him/her and jesus too. so instead, i thanked jesus for the grace to forgive.
it was indeed a beautiful time of prayer as i just allowed myself to be still, to converse with god and to write as i once used to. i recalled the words of cheryl when i told her about how i marvelled that she was always praying. and she told me that she just felt that jesus had so much to tell her. and i'm smiling because i know jesus has so much to tell me too. i feel like i've found an old friend and it's great to be back again. i pray for the grace to be disciplined in sticking to this remedy. prayer really soothes the ailing heart like nothing else can. also, i actually feel my aches gone and i do feel lighter and a little stronger. i'm actually smiling! you gotta try it if you haven't!
p.s. thanks for that forgiveness "mail", papa.
as cheryl (probably heaven's salesgirl of the year) shared about how she shared her secret remedy to a woman whose husband was was in the pits of depression, going from doctor to doctor, trying to find something that would remove that heavy piece of stone from his heart, i couldn't help but feel inspired to try that remedy myself. it was a remedy i had once faithfully gone back to over and over again before disillusionment and cynicism drove me to dump it aside together with my bible for later use and occasional tuesday nights.
it's probably no longer a secret that i've been depressed for the longest time. where i once used to carry this heavy sadness in my heart, i now even wear it. it's not hard to tell really. the lack of energy and drive to do things, the tired eyes and old demeanor even though i've only just turned 23, the anti-social behavior, the short temper and excess of emotions, the resistance to forgive and let go, to hold on to every single grievance caused to me and remember it for dear life...what a load to carry around, no wonder this heart is so tired, no wonder death sometimes seems like such a welcome respite.
tonight was no different from the past few nights for the past few weeks. the usual upsets, the usual loneliness, the usual desire to want to curl up on my bed and cry to nobody. but then i thought about cheryl and how in the deepest darkest crevices of loneliness and pain she can find the grace to pray and pray and pray, how she can find it in her to love me and all the people around her, not just friends or family but complete strangers. and i felt inspired to pick up that remedy from that dusty shelf once more.
i can't begin to describe how beautiful it was. as i sat there and quietened myself, being mindful that i was tuning myself into god's frequency, i started to feel calmer and allowed myself to be vulnerable to god. even now as i close my eyes from time to time to recall that experience, a wave of calm washes over me. it makes me feel thankful for my humanity and the experience and purification of faith and love through it. the encountering of jesus through the depths of my human pain and the amazing love that greets me and transforms me.
at that point, i was struggling with anxiety and unforgiveness, my body felt bruised and battered because i was just so tired and anxious and sad. i now know that being old is not having lived a certain number of years or walking slower than before. being old is really being weighed down with disillusionment, unforgiveness, cynicism and sloth, to name a few. i picked up henri nouwen's "inner voice of love" which cheryl gave to me and read a chapter which spoke about the two selves, the one you left behind because you were fearful and the one you became to appear formidable and how while you long for your old, intimate self, you push it away just so you'd survive. but you were only surviving without living. that's really how i feel these days. from wanting to be "jesus" to everyone, i got tired of being trampled on and took on the opposite form, shooting my mouth as soon as i was hurt, harbouring unforgiveness like a sacred treasure and doing pretty much whatever the hell i wanted. i was rebelling with a vengeance. henri nouwen wasn't far off when he penned down this reflection. he noted how that little, fearful self shouldn't be forgotten and pushed away but be made to become part of us again and that if we only allow ourselves to live with it, how much we would learn, how we would find that jesus is dwelling in that weak, fearful, human self. with all these thoughts forming in my mind, i picked up my journal which i had neglected for almost a year and instead of penning things down, i started flipping through, and i was deeply awed. i had experience those same emotions, those same thoughts then, and through those writings and my little tete-a-tetes with god, i realised how much that old, fearful self had so much to teach my now "formidable" self, how you really are your closest and most intimate friend. i was tearing when i read about the sufferings of shireen then and how i wish i could have warned her, pulled her out of it but as i read on, i was more amazed by her faith, her eagerness to forgive, to obey and to love. and i was inspired once more.
prayer is a beautiful thing. through that little prayer time just now, i found myself transforming from a person of bitterness and anxiety to one of love and forgiveness. i found myself being able to separate myself from experiences and hurt and to forgive and love those who would not understand or love me the way i wanted them to. i found myself wanting to not only pray for myself but for others. each time i worried about the reactions of others at my attempts to make peace and forgive, thinking, what if they reject me or think me a fool, i was reminded that my inclination to forgive was really between me and jesus and not because of the person in question. his/her willingness to forgive would be between him/her and jesus too. so instead, i thanked jesus for the grace to forgive.
it was indeed a beautiful time of prayer as i just allowed myself to be still, to converse with god and to write as i once used to. i recalled the words of cheryl when i told her about how i marvelled that she was always praying. and she told me that she just felt that jesus had so much to tell her. and i'm smiling because i know jesus has so much to tell me too. i feel like i've found an old friend and it's great to be back again. i pray for the grace to be disciplined in sticking to this remedy. prayer really soothes the ailing heart like nothing else can. also, i actually feel my aches gone and i do feel lighter and a little stronger. i'm actually smiling! you gotta try it if you haven't!
p.s. thanks for that forgiveness "mail", papa.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
the shrinking heart
sometimes, i get this feeling that my heart used to be really big...not just big but..huge! i feel this because i sometimes feel this gaping hole where love used to reside, like i'm becoming more of a shadow and less like light. i don't think it's hindsight bias, i think i used to generally love everything and everyone. it was just easy for me to and i couldn't, wouldn't have it any other way. jesus, to me, was the coolest guy. not just a fantasy, not just a myth, not just a historical figure or a far-fetched legend. fully divine but also FULLY HUMAN, he was my role model, the coolest hippie around who didn't just sing songs about making love not war while smoking weed in a corner nor having long discussions with family and friends bitching about everyone and everything while doing nothing about it. he went out there and loved the rejected and the ostracized, the freaks and the goons, the sinners and the forgotten, consoling where consolation was needed and putting right things that were wrong. every moment was a mission to love, to give and to grow. suffering was a means for love and faith to be purified and life itself was a prayer and communion with the divine.
that was what and who i aspired to be. life was beautiful no matter what and i was always thankful for what little or alot i had. black holes would come and go but i got out pretty fast, forgave pretty quick, loved like there was no tomorrow and was driven to live every moment like it might have been my last. i carried my hopes, my dreams, my resilience where i went, staying true to them. people said i was naive and used whatever other adult-words they could find to describe the ignorance and persistence of youth but i was undaunted, steadfast and resolved to live the life i dreamed.
then, bit by bit, this big heart, this bright mind, started shrinking like a helium balloon that had flown too high and too long. i don't know how it started or why but one day, i knew these had grown awfully small when i realised that i didn't care whether i lived or died anymore, whether i hurt myself and others or not. i decided others could live the "jesus dream" because i was too weak, too broken and too unworthy to do so anymore. yes, instead of the light, i was quickly becoming the shadow, sucked into the darkness and hollowness of my own existence. could i blame anybody? it didn't matter whether i could or not, i started lashing out at the world who didn't get me, didn't allow me to breathe. i lashed out at god many times, asking him why i was still here, night after night as i lay my head on my pillow, eyes wide open in the dark, anxious about how i would ever get through another night like this. i "recommended" to god the neatest, most hassle-free ways to cease my existence in this world so that i could just disappear and be gotten over with "just as i deserved". suicide was out of the question and will NEVER be an option so you could say i was just, waiting.
i broke down many times, losing control of my emotions and impulses, easily triggered by attacks which i perceived, were to my self-worth. i felt really alone, not being understood by the people whom i really wish would understand instead of judging me so quickly. i hurt myself and others immensely. i felt i was such a "gone-case" that...so what? so what about world hunger or marginalisation or poverty? i couldn't even help myself. that's how absorbed i became, how small and shrunken this existence spiralled towards being.
what's happening? why? i can't really say. i type in past tense above but in reality, it's an ongoing battle i face. maybe i'm crazy for feeling those things, maybe i'm crazy for splashing these feelings across this page...but don't tell me i'm the only one. i know that there are many out there who have ("had" is merely an illusion) so much to give and who yearn to live and love big but now, only mourn for the death of their hearts. life for them, for us, sometimes is this big black question mark which sucks you in deeper and the more you struggle, the more you sink, like quick sand.
then there are people like lydia gouardo who are what they are and say what they say and totally blow my mind, removing the "cataracts" from my eyes and giving me a good shake-up , like being thrown into a pool of icy water first thing in the morning. my heart blooms again in these moments and becomes filled with hope and dreams once more. and the cycle repeats, wilting heart, blossoming heart, wilting heart, blossoming heart, only with greater intensity each time.
this video below speaks volumes and says very concisely and strikingly what all these paragraphs are trying to decode about the state of my heart. the important thing is, i'm still alive. and while i'm alive, i still have a shot. you do, too!
(p.s. stop the music at the right-hand side before playing the video, unless you want to create some kinda funky remix version of either song)
sometimes, i get this feeling that my heart used to be really big...not just big but..huge! i feel this because i sometimes feel this gaping hole where love used to reside, like i'm becoming more of a shadow and less like light. i don't think it's hindsight bias, i think i used to generally love everything and everyone. it was just easy for me to and i couldn't, wouldn't have it any other way. jesus, to me, was the coolest guy. not just a fantasy, not just a myth, not just a historical figure or a far-fetched legend. fully divine but also FULLY HUMAN, he was my role model, the coolest hippie around who didn't just sing songs about making love not war while smoking weed in a corner nor having long discussions with family and friends bitching about everyone and everything while doing nothing about it. he went out there and loved the rejected and the ostracized, the freaks and the goons, the sinners and the forgotten, consoling where consolation was needed and putting right things that were wrong. every moment was a mission to love, to give and to grow. suffering was a means for love and faith to be purified and life itself was a prayer and communion with the divine.
that was what and who i aspired to be. life was beautiful no matter what and i was always thankful for what little or alot i had. black holes would come and go but i got out pretty fast, forgave pretty quick, loved like there was no tomorrow and was driven to live every moment like it might have been my last. i carried my hopes, my dreams, my resilience where i went, staying true to them. people said i was naive and used whatever other adult-words they could find to describe the ignorance and persistence of youth but i was undaunted, steadfast and resolved to live the life i dreamed.
then, bit by bit, this big heart, this bright mind, started shrinking like a helium balloon that had flown too high and too long. i don't know how it started or why but one day, i knew these had grown awfully small when i realised that i didn't care whether i lived or died anymore, whether i hurt myself and others or not. i decided others could live the "jesus dream" because i was too weak, too broken and too unworthy to do so anymore. yes, instead of the light, i was quickly becoming the shadow, sucked into the darkness and hollowness of my own existence. could i blame anybody? it didn't matter whether i could or not, i started lashing out at the world who didn't get me, didn't allow me to breathe. i lashed out at god many times, asking him why i was still here, night after night as i lay my head on my pillow, eyes wide open in the dark, anxious about how i would ever get through another night like this. i "recommended" to god the neatest, most hassle-free ways to cease my existence in this world so that i could just disappear and be gotten over with "just as i deserved". suicide was out of the question and will NEVER be an option so you could say i was just, waiting.
i broke down many times, losing control of my emotions and impulses, easily triggered by attacks which i perceived, were to my self-worth. i felt really alone, not being understood by the people whom i really wish would understand instead of judging me so quickly. i hurt myself and others immensely. i felt i was such a "gone-case" that...so what? so what about world hunger or marginalisation or poverty? i couldn't even help myself. that's how absorbed i became, how small and shrunken this existence spiralled towards being.
what's happening? why? i can't really say. i type in past tense above but in reality, it's an ongoing battle i face. maybe i'm crazy for feeling those things, maybe i'm crazy for splashing these feelings across this page...but don't tell me i'm the only one. i know that there are many out there who have ("had" is merely an illusion) so much to give and who yearn to live and love big but now, only mourn for the death of their hearts. life for them, for us, sometimes is this big black question mark which sucks you in deeper and the more you struggle, the more you sink, like quick sand.
then there are people like lydia gouardo who are what they are and say what they say and totally blow my mind, removing the "cataracts" from my eyes and giving me a good shake-up , like being thrown into a pool of icy water first thing in the morning. my heart blooms again in these moments and becomes filled with hope and dreams once more. and the cycle repeats, wilting heart, blossoming heart, wilting heart, blossoming heart, only with greater intensity each time.
this video below speaks volumes and says very concisely and strikingly what all these paragraphs are trying to decode about the state of my heart. the important thing is, i'm still alive. and while i'm alive, i still have a shot. you do, too!
(p.s. stop the music at the right-hand side before playing the video, unless you want to create some kinda funky remix version of either song)
mama, harold and kumar
i swear my eyes are gonna pop out from playing this crazy "who has the biggest brain" game on facebook. i can feel it. i'm slowly turning into a zombie, with my eyes all spaced-out, staring in one direction, transfixed and relentless! so much for school being out, i'm drowing myself in math and memory tests!
watching harold and kumar with mama was so much fun! how it all started was hilarious. we were sitting side by side getting our pedicures done on thursday when i told her i was arranging with some of the msc dudes to watch harold and kumar the next day to which she replied, like a needy teenage girlfriend (yes, my mom), "i also want to watch!!!", complete with furrowed brows and pout. she had gotten the idea that it was going to be one of those chevy chase national lampoon kinda movies, don't ask me why. pravin and jeevan had come back with raving reviews about it and she decided this was a show she couldn't pass up on. now, any kid would say no to watching such shows with his or her mom, riiiiight?
wrong! before i found out (after the movie was over) that she thought it was a national lampoon knock-off, i genuinely thought that my mom was starting to become more adventurous. i mean, she seemed to be living out her second teenagehood these few days, sometimes to the point where i'd feel i was more like the mother and she, the daughter. it got me really curious as to how my mom would react to such a show and i immediately said yes! and she told me just now before leaving work, she was actually boasting to her colleagues that she was going to watch "harold and kumar!"
so we just watched the show a few hours ago and it was so incredibly fun watching with her! she was actually laughing hysterically. at some scenes though, she would go, "you mean jeevan (my youngest bro turning 18 in a few days time) watched this?? how can jeevan watch this??" of course, she came out shaking her head but i'm sure she secretly enjoyed it and i told her so.
i have more things to say. but i'm going to put it in the next post, right after this one! now!
p.s. i actually thought the "square root of three'' poem was pretty smart. i loved it! here it is! don't read on if you want to preserve the surprise factor!
i swear my eyes are gonna pop out from playing this crazy "who has the biggest brain" game on facebook. i can feel it. i'm slowly turning into a zombie, with my eyes all spaced-out, staring in one direction, transfixed and relentless! so much for school being out, i'm drowing myself in math and memory tests!
watching harold and kumar with mama was so much fun! how it all started was hilarious. we were sitting side by side getting our pedicures done on thursday when i told her i was arranging with some of the msc dudes to watch harold and kumar the next day to which she replied, like a needy teenage girlfriend (yes, my mom), "i also want to watch!!!", complete with furrowed brows and pout. she had gotten the idea that it was going to be one of those chevy chase national lampoon kinda movies, don't ask me why. pravin and jeevan had come back with raving reviews about it and she decided this was a show she couldn't pass up on. now, any kid would say no to watching such shows with his or her mom, riiiiight?
wrong! before i found out (after the movie was over) that she thought it was a national lampoon knock-off, i genuinely thought that my mom was starting to become more adventurous. i mean, she seemed to be living out her second teenagehood these few days, sometimes to the point where i'd feel i was more like the mother and she, the daughter. it got me really curious as to how my mom would react to such a show and i immediately said yes! and she told me just now before leaving work, she was actually boasting to her colleagues that she was going to watch "harold and kumar!"
so we just watched the show a few hours ago and it was so incredibly fun watching with her! she was actually laughing hysterically. at some scenes though, she would go, "you mean jeevan (my youngest bro turning 18 in a few days time) watched this?? how can jeevan watch this??" of course, she came out shaking her head but i'm sure she secretly enjoyed it and i told her so.
i have more things to say. but i'm going to put it in the next post, right after this one! now!
p.s. i actually thought the "square root of three'' poem was pretty smart. i loved it! here it is! don't read on if you want to preserve the surprise factor!
The Square Root of 3 by Dave Feinberg
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
i gotta get me one of those!
Messerschmitt KR201 1958
great family car, huh? like the jetsons in the 1950s.
Inter 175A Microcar
Messerschmitt KR201 1958
great family car, huh? like the jetsons in the 1950s.Inter 175A Microcar
i adore this. like driving a mini boat on land. it's so tiny that with one little headlight at the front, this car could probably be mistaken for a torch light.1956 Avolette Record De Luxe
is it me or does this car just make you happy?1958 Goggomobil Transporter
(you have to check out the other automobiles at this site!!)
if all police cars looked like this, criminals would be on-the run...towards them instead.Honda Puyo
click the link and read about it! it's really funny. trust the japanese! =)
swooooooooooon!!!and yes, they're real cars.
these eyes
so there are actually other people who see this static. it's called "visual snow". i only see it in the dark but according to that website, there are people who see it all the time. i do sometimes experience those increased afterimages or trails though. they seem to float up and down for a while, longer than they should according to what i read about persistence of vision and the sensory memory in my cognitive psych text. i find these trails quite fascinating. and do you sometimes see a black spot that seems to be in the centre of vision wherever you look? i do and it seems like i'm not alone.
and you know what's funny? i made a disclaimer in the post below that i wasn't on lsd. the visual snow website indicates that phenomena associated with visual snow also occurs in people who are on certain drugs, including lsd. =O
in other news, i'm sure by now you must have heard or read about the austrian man who locked his daughter up in a hidden cellar in his house and fathered seven children with her? in the papers today, lydia gouardo, a french woman, describes how she suffered a similar ordeal for 28 years, but what blows my mind is what she says at the end of that article and i am immediately ashamed of myself for not wanting to wake up in the morning sometimes, for wishing death or wasting my life away in despair.
so there are actually other people who see this static. it's called "visual snow". i only see it in the dark but according to that website, there are people who see it all the time. i do sometimes experience those increased afterimages or trails though. they seem to float up and down for a while, longer than they should according to what i read about persistence of vision and the sensory memory in my cognitive psych text. i find these trails quite fascinating. and do you sometimes see a black spot that seems to be in the centre of vision wherever you look? i do and it seems like i'm not alone.
and you know what's funny? i made a disclaimer in the post below that i wasn't on lsd. the visual snow website indicates that phenomena associated with visual snow also occurs in people who are on certain drugs, including lsd. =O
in other news, i'm sure by now you must have heard or read about the austrian man who locked his daughter up in a hidden cellar in his house and fathered seven children with her? in the papers today, lydia gouardo, a french woman, describes how she suffered a similar ordeal for 28 years, but what blows my mind is what she says at the end of that article and i am immediately ashamed of myself for not wanting to wake up in the morning sometimes, for wishing death or wasting my life away in despair.
Barely literate, unemployed, she hides her burn scars under long-sleeved clothes - but says she is happy to have survived.what grace she must have to say such a thing. those such as her, they are our real-life everyday heroes.
"When I think of what I've been through, I wonder how it's possible. Every day when I open the front door, I take a deep breath.
"I live from day to day. But I love life. When people complain, I say life is beautiful," she told RTL.
"I am fighting back now. When a bill comes through the door, I am happy. I am here, I exist."
Monday, April 28, 2008
lying in bed with the lights off and the curtains open, i stare up at the ceiling, wondering whether if i try hard enough, i can see colours in the dark, whether i can see an invisible world parallel to the one i'm in. and for the first time i noticed that in the dark, everything looks like it is covered by static, infinite specks of black and white. amazed by this new discovery, my eyes dart around the room, from the walls to the cupboard to my blanket to the space in between everything and the "static" is still there. is this normal? do you see the same thing lying on your bed with the lights off and the curtains open, staring at your ceiling?
and no, i'm not on lsd or whatever. goodnight!
and no, i'm not on lsd or whatever. goodnight!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
dear god,
thank you for the Dark Night. without it, i cannot know faith. and whilst i cry out for a hand to hold on to and keep me from drowning in despair, i know that i can never fully know faith like this if i am not alone. many times, i cry out to you, asking you when this will end. i lash out against the people who i love and who love me, asking why they were not there. but today, i have woken up to a new day and you allowed my eyes to pour over the words of a simple book you led me to and i am affirmed, encouraged, to not give up, to not lose hope, and to embrace my Dark Nights. to not know what should happen next and yet move forward with courage. to love without fear. i surrender this day to you. be with me in my choices.
love,
reenie
thank you for the Dark Night. without it, i cannot know faith. and whilst i cry out for a hand to hold on to and keep me from drowning in despair, i know that i can never fully know faith like this if i am not alone. many times, i cry out to you, asking you when this will end. i lash out against the people who i love and who love me, asking why they were not there. but today, i have woken up to a new day and you allowed my eyes to pour over the words of a simple book you led me to and i am affirmed, encouraged, to not give up, to not lose hope, and to embrace my Dark Nights. to not know what should happen next and yet move forward with courage. to love without fear. i surrender this day to you. be with me in my choices.
love,
reenie
i can't sleep.
i sometimes wonder, what is it like to go to sleep with a big smile on my face? i'm sure i must have done so before. but it feels like it's been too long, so long that i've forgotten what it's like.
as i lay my head on the pillow, i wonder whether i will get lonelier and lonelier from this day on. i start planning when i want to secure a job and what i should do for income till then and then i'm hit with the realisation: who am i going to enjoy with? i think about what i'm going to do when (if) i wake up tomorrow and i can't even get past the morning without feeling empty. bit by bit, i feel the walls caving in on me till it is just me. no voices, not even the sound of static or the universal hum. just my breathing.
some people said today (not for the first time), "i come to your blog, i read the first line and i want to off my computer," as a humour-intended passing comment about the length of my posts. "i don't understand what you are writing, i don't know whether you are happy or sad". i don't know either sometimes. but the irony of their jabs, what they didn't know, and will never know, because they probably never will get to this line, is that that's pretty how much i feel about my life these days. i feel like i'm just shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. till i'm not even worth a glance or ear anymore.
i could probably get used to it. i don't think so. i'm gonna try to get some sleep.
i sometimes wonder, what is it like to go to sleep with a big smile on my face? i'm sure i must have done so before. but it feels like it's been too long, so long that i've forgotten what it's like.
as i lay my head on the pillow, i wonder whether i will get lonelier and lonelier from this day on. i start planning when i want to secure a job and what i should do for income till then and then i'm hit with the realisation: who am i going to enjoy with? i think about what i'm going to do when (if) i wake up tomorrow and i can't even get past the morning without feeling empty. bit by bit, i feel the walls caving in on me till it is just me. no voices, not even the sound of static or the universal hum. just my breathing.
some people said today (not for the first time), "i come to your blog, i read the first line and i want to off my computer," as a humour-intended passing comment about the length of my posts. "i don't understand what you are writing, i don't know whether you are happy or sad". i don't know either sometimes. but the irony of their jabs, what they didn't know, and will never know, because they probably never will get to this line, is that that's pretty how much i feel about my life these days. i feel like i'm just shrinking, shrinking, shrinking. till i'm not even worth a glance or ear anymore.
i could probably get used to it. i don't think so. i'm gonna try to get some sleep.
Friday, April 25, 2008
"baby's black balloon makes her fly..."
on sunday, i was at a workshop (vocation discernment tools) and to keep awake, i started doodling in my notebook. it started with your normal average garden, which suddenly started spouting balloon plants (the "flowers" were balloons and the "leaves" were ribbons), one of which was then given by a boy to his lover, who then floated into the sky together, further boosted skywards by a whole bunch of balloons which had gathered below their feet. the doodling took on a life of its own to create a whole balloon planet whose occupants had wandered towards other parts of the universe. for example, there was a man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) walking his dog on, i don't know, jupiter? and of course, you can't leave out saturn because it has so much character (my favourite planet!). on one of its rings, a lone young man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) sits pondering, watching his planet far below him. a young lady (holding a bunch of balloons) hangs on to a star, which does not burn in her hands. a couch potato (with balloons tied to his couch) floats across the sky watching the best show of his life. as these ideas flowed out of my pen, i grew to love it more and more and decided that it would be my first paint "masterpiece".
the next day, i got to work. after having meticulously transfered my doodle onto the nervous new sheet of paper, i began my quest to become the next monet. not that i'm a huge fan of water colours but that's what papa got me so i was determined to kick some water colour ass! since monday, painting has taken on a whole new meaning for me. and i don't think i would have experienced this if i had not started with water colours. you see, painting with water colours (lets call it WC, haha) is really tedious. if its too watery, you smudge other parts. you can't paint your background first because it would be hard to paint things on top of it. because of that, you have to be so so careful when painting around all your people and balloons and trees and boats and whatever during the background stage. and then there's the issue of painting the little things. like the little people or the little ribbons (leaves of the balloon flowers) or the doggie's little face and for something so small and perhaps insignificant to an observer, it sure takes your utmost concentration. which was an experience of awe and wonder for me. it made me ponder the conception and creation of my very own existence.
i mean, like me, i'm sure you might sometimes look into the sky or at the sea and be blown away by the vastness and immensity of this universe and for that moment be throughly overwhelmed by the smallness of your being. how out there, here, in this universe, you must be nothing but a mere speck of dust (from dust we come and to dust we shall return). all these feelings that drench you, all these moments that create the life you live, all these words you say, all those thoughts, all these attempts to survive, to find meaning, to discover truth, to fight for what you love and believe in...how small they all must seem!
but why don't you try painting small people in WC? why don't you try painting little ribbons attached to strings attached to balloons in WC? and then, instead of despairing or belittling the smallness of your being, you will be overwhelmed by it instead! because sweeping a crimson-stained brush across a sunset sky is NOTHING compared to painting the whiskers on a little doggie. marvel at the precision and care that was taken for you be created exactly the way you are, whether you are a shireen or a joyce or a nash or a reno (if you see your name here, it's probably a result of divine inspiration or erm, sporadic thought!) of course, do not then scoff at sunsets and seas and stars and saturn! let the colours, the vastness and the brilliance sweep you off your feet. wonder at how they're never the same each moment and yet beautiful all the same.
well, now that pravin is back from new zealand, he's introduced me to the world of acrylics and of course, put an end to my delusions of being some kind of artistic prodigy! while painting now seems more daunting than ever, especially in the presence of someone worthy of the title, "artist", it's also really refreshing to learn about the variety of colours, strokes and techniques one can use with just a few tubes of paints and a couple of brushes. rather impressive even! i can't wait to wake up in the morning and try it all out! i didn't just now because when i started, the sheet fell of the easel and toppled the cup of water which spilled all over the floor which sent me into a panicked frenzy to save my painting and the floor! haha. also a sign to stop because i was really tired and pravin had just said before that, that painting while you are tired subconciously makes you bo chap (can't be bothered) and can be seen in your painting. painting, though releasing and random, is indeed a deliberate and intense process. the story of creation.
if you've succeeded getting to this part of the post, you sure won't regret it. here's why. i mentioned at the start of this post that i had been doodling this picture on sunday, and to add on, during the sleepiest parts of a sunday afternoon. now, today i'm scanning the papers, and i read about this catholic priest from brazil who, to raise funds, tied himself to a humongous bunch of helium-filled balloons and flew up, up , up into the sky to beat his previous record of flying with 600 balloons. the priest is now LOST!!! here's a scary fact, the priest flew up into the sky on sunday, the same day i had the mad inspiration to draw a pageful of people flying across the sky hanging on to balloons!! i didn't know whether to laugh or cry reading this article. this priest had actually shown that this crazy dream of mine was possible and not trivial enough to not be attempted (i'm sure others must have tried this but i haven't come across their stories yet). i really do hope that he is safe and does get found though! you can read about it here.
p.s. a select few will be privy to the finished piece and if it's GOOD, you guys MAY get to see it here. =P
p.s.2. go to flickr.com, search "balloons" and be blown away!
p.s.3. i finally figured out a way to stop kings of convenience from always receiving the spotlight on this blog!!! enjoy the songs. will add more soon.
on sunday, i was at a workshop (vocation discernment tools) and to keep awake, i started doodling in my notebook. it started with your normal average garden, which suddenly started spouting balloon plants (the "flowers" were balloons and the "leaves" were ribbons), one of which was then given by a boy to his lover, who then floated into the sky together, further boosted skywards by a whole bunch of balloons which had gathered below their feet. the doodling took on a life of its own to create a whole balloon planet whose occupants had wandered towards other parts of the universe. for example, there was a man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) walking his dog on, i don't know, jupiter? and of course, you can't leave out saturn because it has so much character (my favourite planet!). on one of its rings, a lone young man (holding on to a bunch of balloons) sits pondering, watching his planet far below him. a young lady (holding a bunch of balloons) hangs on to a star, which does not burn in her hands. a couch potato (with balloons tied to his couch) floats across the sky watching the best show of his life. as these ideas flowed out of my pen, i grew to love it more and more and decided that it would be my first paint "masterpiece".
the next day, i got to work. after having meticulously transfered my doodle onto the nervous new sheet of paper, i began my quest to become the next monet. not that i'm a huge fan of water colours but that's what papa got me so i was determined to kick some water colour ass! since monday, painting has taken on a whole new meaning for me. and i don't think i would have experienced this if i had not started with water colours. you see, painting with water colours (lets call it WC, haha) is really tedious. if its too watery, you smudge other parts. you can't paint your background first because it would be hard to paint things on top of it. because of that, you have to be so so careful when painting around all your people and balloons and trees and boats and whatever during the background stage. and then there's the issue of painting the little things. like the little people or the little ribbons (leaves of the balloon flowers) or the doggie's little face and for something so small and perhaps insignificant to an observer, it sure takes your utmost concentration. which was an experience of awe and wonder for me. it made me ponder the conception and creation of my very own existence.
i mean, like me, i'm sure you might sometimes look into the sky or at the sea and be blown away by the vastness and immensity of this universe and for that moment be throughly overwhelmed by the smallness of your being. how out there, here, in this universe, you must be nothing but a mere speck of dust (from dust we come and to dust we shall return). all these feelings that drench you, all these moments that create the life you live, all these words you say, all those thoughts, all these attempts to survive, to find meaning, to discover truth, to fight for what you love and believe in...how small they all must seem!
but why don't you try painting small people in WC? why don't you try painting little ribbons attached to strings attached to balloons in WC? and then, instead of despairing or belittling the smallness of your being, you will be overwhelmed by it instead! because sweeping a crimson-stained brush across a sunset sky is NOTHING compared to painting the whiskers on a little doggie. marvel at the precision and care that was taken for you be created exactly the way you are, whether you are a shireen or a joyce or a nash or a reno (if you see your name here, it's probably a result of divine inspiration or erm, sporadic thought!) of course, do not then scoff at sunsets and seas and stars and saturn! let the colours, the vastness and the brilliance sweep you off your feet. wonder at how they're never the same each moment and yet beautiful all the same.
well, now that pravin is back from new zealand, he's introduced me to the world of acrylics and of course, put an end to my delusions of being some kind of artistic prodigy! while painting now seems more daunting than ever, especially in the presence of someone worthy of the title, "artist", it's also really refreshing to learn about the variety of colours, strokes and techniques one can use with just a few tubes of paints and a couple of brushes. rather impressive even! i can't wait to wake up in the morning and try it all out! i didn't just now because when i started, the sheet fell of the easel and toppled the cup of water which spilled all over the floor which sent me into a panicked frenzy to save my painting and the floor! haha. also a sign to stop because i was really tired and pravin had just said before that, that painting while you are tired subconciously makes you bo chap (can't be bothered) and can be seen in your painting. painting, though releasing and random, is indeed a deliberate and intense process. the story of creation.
if you've succeeded getting to this part of the post, you sure won't regret it. here's why. i mentioned at the start of this post that i had been doodling this picture on sunday, and to add on, during the sleepiest parts of a sunday afternoon. now, today i'm scanning the papers, and i read about this catholic priest from brazil who, to raise funds, tied himself to a humongous bunch of helium-filled balloons and flew up, up , up into the sky to beat his previous record of flying with 600 balloons. the priest is now LOST!!! here's a scary fact, the priest flew up into the sky on sunday, the same day i had the mad inspiration to draw a pageful of people flying across the sky hanging on to balloons!! i didn't know whether to laugh or cry reading this article. this priest had actually shown that this crazy dream of mine was possible and not trivial enough to not be attempted (i'm sure others must have tried this but i haven't come across their stories yet). i really do hope that he is safe and does get found though! you can read about it here.
p.s. a select few will be privy to the finished piece and if it's GOOD, you guys MAY get to see it here. =P
p.s.2. go to flickr.com, search "balloons" and be blown away!
p.s.3. i finally figured out a way to stop kings of convenience from always receiving the spotlight on this blog!!! enjoy the songs. will add more soon.
Friday, April 18, 2008
a good kind of ache
Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow,
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Tripoli.
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the Yellow Sea.
From Bissau to Palau - in the shade of Avalon,
From Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony,
From Peru to Cebu fear the power of Babylon,
From Bali to Cali - far beneath the Coral Sea.
From the North to the South, Ebudae into Khartoum,
From the deep sea of Clouds to the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.
We can sail, we can sail...
We can steer, we can near with Rob Dickins at the wheel,
We can sigh, say goodbye Ross and his dependencies
We can sail, we can sail...
Orinoco Flow by Enya
Let me sail, let me sail, let the Orinoco flow,
Let me reach, let me beach on the shores of Tripoli.
Let me sail, let me sail, let me crash upon your shore,
Let me reach, let me beach far beyond the Yellow Sea.
From Bissau to Palau - in the shade of Avalon,
From Fiji to Tiree and the Isles of Ebony,
From Peru to Cebu fear the power of Babylon,
From Bali to Cali - far beneath the Coral Sea.
From the North to the South, Ebudae into Khartoum,
From the deep sea of Clouds to the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never been,
Carry me on the waves to the lands I've never seen.
We can sail, we can sail...
We can steer, we can near with Rob Dickins at the wheel,
We can sigh, say goodbye Ross and his dependencies
We can sail, we can sail...
Orinoco Flow by Enya
Thursday, April 17, 2008
you know, i just love this space. from the photo above to the music to the colours to the words. don't get me wrong. i'm far from eloquent with a limited lexicon and my photography skills are probably in want and the music must seem so yesterday and my design skills are....what design skills. but all this together, it's just so...me. =)
well, if you really know me, at least the way i know me, then you'll understand.
in a few hours, i'll be back at shokudo. i'm definitely going for the sashimi and the bacon-wrapped asparagus. and i'll probably try something new. aaargh, what a headache. can't decide.
and oh yes, in a few hours, i'll be done with my final exam of my smu life. studying for cognitive psychology is pretty funny because in a way, you are kind of studying about how your mind absorbs, retains and processes things. so technically, it's like studying about how to study and then taking an exam on it. seriously, you have topics like memory, problem solving, reasoning and decision making....
ah, can't wait can't wait. to get round to serious business. like the beach holiday i've been drooling over. like playing ALOT of tennis. like going back to beautifying my purple room. like cooking. like reading storybook after storybook. like resuming my kampung cycling-swimming regime. like learning to do things like meditating, cooking (new stuff) and brushing up on my video editting. like spending more time with people i care about. like splashing some colours on the canvas lying beside my bed (papa et al. gave me a paint set, complete with easel and all for my birthday =D and yes, too much research proposing and psychology mugging has left the habit of going so-and-so et al firmly ingrained in me, ah my education!). and sooooo much more. and yea, i guess looking for a job as well.
ok i'm getting incoherent and carried away. and as i say this, i start to think about something i read in my language chapter for cog psych. well, this Grice fellow stated that there were 4 maxims for a conversation. quantity (keep it short and sweet), quality (self-explanatory), relevant (keep to the topic) and manner (to communicate in an orderly, coherent fashion). and as i appear to be failing to meet all 4, it's time to end this post. goodnight.
p.s. thank you for the surprise chocolates, mr pope groupie. you really learn fast (from papa M). chocolates are the cure and opium for all illnesses and dire circumstances. since i started with a smile, i shall end with one too, though that doesn't make sense. nothing does in this post. =)
well, if you really know me, at least the way i know me, then you'll understand.
in a few hours, i'll be back at shokudo. i'm definitely going for the sashimi and the bacon-wrapped asparagus. and i'll probably try something new. aaargh, what a headache. can't decide.
and oh yes, in a few hours, i'll be done with my final exam of my smu life. studying for cognitive psychology is pretty funny because in a way, you are kind of studying about how your mind absorbs, retains and processes things. so technically, it's like studying about how to study and then taking an exam on it. seriously, you have topics like memory, problem solving, reasoning and decision making....
ah, can't wait can't wait. to get round to serious business. like the beach holiday i've been drooling over. like playing ALOT of tennis. like going back to beautifying my purple room. like cooking. like reading storybook after storybook. like resuming my kampung cycling-swimming regime. like learning to do things like meditating, cooking (new stuff) and brushing up on my video editting. like spending more time with people i care about. like splashing some colours on the canvas lying beside my bed (papa et al. gave me a paint set, complete with easel and all for my birthday =D and yes, too much research proposing and psychology mugging has left the habit of going so-and-so et al firmly ingrained in me, ah my education!). and sooooo much more. and yea, i guess looking for a job as well.
ok i'm getting incoherent and carried away. and as i say this, i start to think about something i read in my language chapter for cog psych. well, this Grice fellow stated that there were 4 maxims for a conversation. quantity (keep it short and sweet), quality (self-explanatory), relevant (keep to the topic) and manner (to communicate in an orderly, coherent fashion). and as i appear to be failing to meet all 4, it's time to end this post. goodnight.
p.s. thank you for the surprise chocolates, mr pope groupie. you really learn fast (from papa M). chocolates are the cure and opium for all illnesses and dire circumstances. since i started with a smile, i shall end with one too, though that doesn't make sense. nothing does in this post. =)
Sunday, April 13, 2008
the best birthday gift - learning to loveone of the most beautiful things about loving somebody is dying to yourself. it's times like these you realise that you're stronger than you know, that your frail and meager heart is capable of something bigger than you can ever imagine and that love indeed empties, heals, nourishes, fills, strengthens, emboldens, illuminates, cleanses, transforms, creates, soothes....frees. it's not easy, noone ever said it was. it's one of the most painful things you may encounter and you may want to give up halfway, even to the point of wishing you would die. but, there's nothing more important. nothing worth more. than to love and to forgive. every. chance. you. get. which is all the time, here and now. i wish i did it sooner. but i'm excited and looking forward now, to love, love, love!
p.s. this doesn't mean letting go of your self-worth and allowing yourself to stay trapped in a situation or relationship which batters it.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
i'm kinda getting obsessed with that cloud thing. who wouldn't? after looking at this? i am inspired!(a little preview)
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
part 1: scruppylittle scruppy the puppy will be returning home to his rightful owners tomorrow. he belongs to my cousin who went on a holiday with his family. little scruppy, what can i say? never has reno felt further and closer all at the same time as i bend down to ruffle his fur, pour water into his bowl, take him for walks.
and once again, i'm reminded of the beautiful warm feeling of returning home to a dog. the unconditional love! every time scruppy sees me, he welcomes me and goes totally wild like it's the first time every time! he jumps up, balancing on his two hind feet (which makes him look like a little toddler learning to walk) as his two front paws struggle to hold on to me, after which he goes into a licking frenzy. when i walk away, he lets out a torrent of high-pitched puppy yelps and attempts to bulldoze his way through the fence. every. single. time.
having scruppy stay with us these few days has brought back some colour into my life (he's really a wacko and immensely entertaining and eventually, highly lovable), given me one more lovely reason to wake up in the morning and come home in the evening, and taught me about accepting new events and people and things in my life. that nothing can ever replace what is gone (like my wonderful reno), but that everything and everyone is in fact unique and yet all one at the same time. none is better than the other. beauty lies in the perfection of all things, all perfect in itself and the whole.
part 2: from the second i hit the "publish post" button for this post...
from the second i hit the "publish post" button for this post, i will no longer go on facebook or msn for a week, maybe more. you can still contact me by email and sms though. and i will still blog here if i feel like it.
from the second i hit the "publish post" button for this post, i will withdraw into my cave for a week, maybe more. not forever, just for a while. while driving home in the rain just now, clarity washed over me. i need to be silent for a while. and for that, i will avoid being in positions where i so easily react. i know i said something like this a few posts ago, but well, it didn't really happen. i always give in at the last second. well, i'm going to try again. and succeed.
from the second i hit the "publish post" button for this post, i will clear up the junk yard that is my room and restore it to its initial glory, exuberating warmth and purple and me.
from the second i hit the "publish post" button for this post, i will put my mind to better use, such as studying for my exams next week, instead of picking at the scabs of my wounds.
alright, am i missing anything? well, if i am, i'll just add it to the chalkboard on my wall.
ok, lets go!
see the bedouin fires at night, see the oil fields at first light, see the bird with a leaf in her mouth, after the flood all the colours came out...
i want to disappear for a while, to evaporate and become a cloud, high above, illuminated in pink, blue, green, magenta, orange and gold by spectacular sunsets, floating on by around the world, away from everything, from words, angry silences, work, standards, boundaries, hurt, blame, anxiety, confusion, disillusionment, thoughts, cigarette fumes, mosquitoes, shavers, clothes, weighing scales, desires, restlessness, sighs. everything. to roll over mountains and rivers and deserts and oceans. to be closer to the stars, away from all the bright lights and computer screens. it would be so quiet up there, everything would be so so small and all i might hear is the wind. and i would just close my eyes and smile as the wind gently delivered me on, from one place to the next. i would probably start to miss home, crave company and feel restless again. i'd start thinking and wondering, have things changed? are you thinking of me? then i'd rain down, drop by drop, falling down down down, to the rooftops and car hoods and the pavements and the trees, seeping into drains, rivers, soil. and then, i will miss the sky and wish to be a cloud again. such is the cycle of tears, salty and intense. i long for the sea.
p.s. what a wonderful idea! i just saw this a few fridays ago and ran to the window screaming, "look at the clouds, look at the clouds!!!" for anyone and everyone who cared. i didn't know these had a name. iridescence. lovely. =)
i want to disappear for a while, to evaporate and become a cloud, high above, illuminated in pink, blue, green, magenta, orange and gold by spectacular sunsets, floating on by around the world, away from everything, from words, angry silences, work, standards, boundaries, hurt, blame, anxiety, confusion, disillusionment, thoughts, cigarette fumes, mosquitoes, shavers, clothes, weighing scales, desires, restlessness, sighs. everything. to roll over mountains and rivers and deserts and oceans. to be closer to the stars, away from all the bright lights and computer screens. it would be so quiet up there, everything would be so so small and all i might hear is the wind. and i would just close my eyes and smile as the wind gently delivered me on, from one place to the next. i would probably start to miss home, crave company and feel restless again. i'd start thinking and wondering, have things changed? are you thinking of me? then i'd rain down, drop by drop, falling down down down, to the rooftops and car hoods and the pavements and the trees, seeping into drains, rivers, soil. and then, i will miss the sky and wish to be a cloud again. such is the cycle of tears, salty and intense. i long for the sea.
p.s. what a wonderful idea! i just saw this a few fridays ago and ran to the window screaming, "look at the clouds, look at the clouds!!!" for anyone and everyone who cared. i didn't know these had a name. iridescence. lovely. =)
Monday, April 07, 2008
in slow motion, the blast is beautiful
and all i really wanted to do was just put my arms around you and tell you that everything is ok. i know, yes i am aware. that i was the one who fired the first shot. i am deeply sorry.
"I've got this feeling that there's something that I missedlike a short-circuit. like an atom bomb. like fire crackers. it only takes a few seconds for sparks to fly. it only takes a few words to sink a ship or bomb a whole country to smithereens. or even worse, to break a heart. bang bang, we danced round each other, with a rhythm noone understood, to a song noone heard, except us. there's no meaning for it, just sounds and motions. bang bang, it was only a few seconds stretched out to what seemed like an eternity.
(I could do most anything to you...)
Don't you breathe
Something happened, that I never understood
You can't leave
Every second, dripping off my fingertips
Wage your war
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die
Well I am scared
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful
Doors slam shut
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away
Safe and sound"
- somewhere a clock is ticking by snow patrol
and all i really wanted to do was just put my arms around you and tell you that everything is ok. i know, yes i am aware. that i was the one who fired the first shot. i am deeply sorry.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
to float away...sometimes do you wonder
what is real strength of character
to stay or to run?
will the sun rise tomorrow? probably. will i rise to greet it? who knows.
why can't i feel it in my bones? i see flashes, glimpses from time to time. it makes me gleam inside. i go to bed with a smile. but, why have i never felt it in my bones? why has it always been merely a yearning to feel? i felt it in my bones once.
it's like being tossed about in a psychedelic spin of a never-ending circus full of pirouettes and prances, carousels and clowns. what is real?
i sometimes feel like i am not part of my body. during these times, i look at everyone, and i know they are not their bodies and suddenly, i feel as connected to a stranger or to my boss as i am to myself and to my mother or father. and then i think of you and everything becomes as real as it looks, encapsulated by bodies, jars, doors, once again. because you became distinct. and then, so did i. how should it actually be? i'm tired of trying to live according to what it should be. i just want to be. to be nothing and everything. to be so empty that i'm bursting with life, with love. to be a little speck of light and a big bright beam with my smile floating like a thin film over everyone and everything, over my lover and my friends and my family and all i've ever known and loved.
what will i do if i should greet the sun in the morrow? my eyes hurt.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
april's fool
glancing at my handphone, a grin crept onto my face as i was on the 147 to school. "Tue 1-Apr-2008," it read. how could i forget, i thought. i can't let this day go by without playing a prank or five!
me (in an sms to melt): We got into amazing race! They just called!!
and then, i looked at my phone again and realised that it wasn't tuesday. oh s*it!
melt (in a phonecall like 1 minute later): (something along the lines of) are you serious?? oh my gosh!!!
me: (something along the lines of) you know what? happy april fools'. but actually i thought it was already 1st of april. i got the date wrong.
melt: (something along the lines of) raaarrrgh! my colleagues said it was probably an april fools' prank being the eve of april fools but aargh!
me: yar, so dumb! ok i'll tell you again tomorrow.
melt: no! it's ok!
how are we going to join amazing race??? already getting dates wrong and two hours in the sun is enough to melt us. i can't use the word, "melt", without having the image of melt (the person) conjured up.
ah, i am april's fool indeed. and i have company. happy birthday, eugene (the one voted on facebook as most likely to corrupt the minds of young children, not an exageration!)!!! have a good one! ;)
glancing at my handphone, a grin crept onto my face as i was on the 147 to school. "Tue 1-Apr-2008," it read. how could i forget, i thought. i can't let this day go by without playing a prank or five!
me (in an sms to melt): We got into amazing race! They just called!!
and then, i looked at my phone again and realised that it wasn't tuesday. oh s*it!
melt (in a phonecall like 1 minute later): (something along the lines of) are you serious?? oh my gosh!!!
me: (something along the lines of) you know what? happy april fools'. but actually i thought it was already 1st of april. i got the date wrong.
melt: (something along the lines of) raaarrrgh! my colleagues said it was probably an april fools' prank being the eve of april fools but aargh!
me: yar, so dumb! ok i'll tell you again tomorrow.
melt: no! it's ok!
how are we going to join amazing race??? already getting dates wrong and two hours in the sun is enough to melt us. i can't use the word, "melt", without having the image of melt (the person) conjured up.
ah, i am april's fool indeed. and i have company. happy birthday, eugene (the one voted on facebook as most likely to corrupt the minds of young children, not an exageration!)!!! have a good one! ;)
Monday, March 31, 2008
SHIOKudo!!!
i was in heaven today, or at least tasted it.
why didn't anyone tell me about shokudo earlier??? for those of you as ulu-fied (living on another planet) and swaku-fied (ignorant) as me, it's this japanese version of marche at raffles city and i think i almost cried when i stepped inside today. all things japanese and yummy (and whale-less) under one roof! it's really dangerous though. they give you this card when you step inside so that every time you order something at any one of the stalls, they scan your card and key your order in (like marche). and with the amount of good food in that little place, you could get carried away with all that swiping and go into an epileptic fit when you present your card to pay. i had salmon sashimi, cha soba, yakitori and i stole some of jeevan's rosti and papa's yummy vege thingy and his waffle with ice cream and everything was sooooo good. even now, i'm just dreaming of the yakitori asparagus wrapped in bacon in my mouth and i'm going weak in the knees. aaargh! i wanted to order so many more things like the unagi and the omelette thingy and the japanese pizzas and alot of sushi and i am going mad thinking about it. my goodness, to think it was a stone's throw away from school and low-life-no-life-shireen-who-scrams-from-school-whenever-she-can only just discovered it like...NOW??? 3 weeks before my SMU school life ends??
ok, shokudo has got to be my favourite restaurant for now. it's just really fun having such a wide selection of (quality) japanese food and i don't think any other restaurant has ever got me this lovesick after being separated from it. oh that asparagus wrapped in bacon and that salmon sashimi. just gotta have it. NOW!
my goodness, what a frivolous decadent post. how ar. week 13. 2 research proposals, 2 presentations, 1 quiz, 2 exams, 1 community service report (overdue by 4 years), internship research and meeting with boos, left to go. how ar, how ar, how ar! i hope i can go back there to eat soon. wanna join me?
mmmmmmm...asparagus...bacon......night night.
i was in heaven today, or at least tasted it.
why didn't anyone tell me about shokudo earlier??? for those of you as ulu-fied (living on another planet) and swaku-fied (ignorant) as me, it's this japanese version of marche at raffles city and i think i almost cried when i stepped inside today. all things japanese and yummy (and whale-less) under one roof! it's really dangerous though. they give you this card when you step inside so that every time you order something at any one of the stalls, they scan your card and key your order in (like marche). and with the amount of good food in that little place, you could get carried away with all that swiping and go into an epileptic fit when you present your card to pay. i had salmon sashimi, cha soba, yakitori and i stole some of jeevan's rosti and papa's yummy vege thingy and his waffle with ice cream and everything was sooooo good. even now, i'm just dreaming of the yakitori asparagus wrapped in bacon in my mouth and i'm going weak in the knees. aaargh! i wanted to order so many more things like the unagi and the omelette thingy and the japanese pizzas and alot of sushi and i am going mad thinking about it. my goodness, to think it was a stone's throw away from school and low-life-no-life-shireen-who-scrams-from-school-whenever-she-can only just discovered it like...NOW??? 3 weeks before my SMU school life ends??
ok, shokudo has got to be my favourite restaurant for now. it's just really fun having such a wide selection of (quality) japanese food and i don't think any other restaurant has ever got me this lovesick after being separated from it. oh that asparagus wrapped in bacon and that salmon sashimi. just gotta have it. NOW!
my goodness, what a frivolous decadent post. how ar. week 13. 2 research proposals, 2 presentations, 1 quiz, 2 exams, 1 community service report (overdue by 4 years), internship research and meeting with boos, left to go. how ar, how ar, how ar! i hope i can go back there to eat soon. wanna join me?
mmmmmmm...asparagus...bacon......night night.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
i love mac. i seriously do.
why am i blogging one-liners these days, you ask? well, i blog here sometimes too. perhaps, i'll double-post my entries there over here as well in the future.
week 13, the dreaded week 13, is arriving. cowabunga! lets go!
why am i blogging one-liners these days, you ask? well, i blog here sometimes too. perhaps, i'll double-post my entries there over here as well in the future.
week 13, the dreaded week 13, is arriving. cowabunga! lets go!
Monday, March 10, 2008
it's a different kind of conversation....
had an interesting conversation just now. something about it makes me cringe and yet laugh because it's just so nonsensical. people are people are people.
_: there's coke?
me, in jest: eh *, hurry pour for me before _ finishes it all!
_: i haven't had dinner the last four days!
me, perplexed: what's that got to do with coke? (and i was seriously wrecking my aching brain)
_, immediately: bla yaddea (some thing along those lines in some strange tongue in an attempt to shut me up)
me, still perplexed, but even more so after the burst of tongues: what's that got to do with drinking coke?
_: bla yaddea chika muka (more tongues followed by the silent treatment)
oh and by the way, this wasn't a conversation between two 5-year-olds. that may have been a little more intelligent. chika muka yalalalalalalalala!!!!!!!!!!!
....in our coke heads
had an interesting conversation just now. something about it makes me cringe and yet laugh because it's just so nonsensical. people are people are people.
_: there's coke?
me, in jest: eh *, hurry pour for me before _ finishes it all!
_: i haven't had dinner the last four days!
me, perplexed: what's that got to do with coke? (and i was seriously wrecking my aching brain)
_, immediately: bla yaddea (some thing along those lines in some strange tongue in an attempt to shut me up)
me, still perplexed, but even more so after the burst of tongues: what's that got to do with drinking coke?
_: bla yaddea chika muka (more tongues followed by the silent treatment)
oh and by the way, this wasn't a conversation between two 5-year-olds. that may have been a little more intelligent. chika muka yalalalalalalalala!!!!!!!!!!!
caught broken social scene's concert at the esplanade just now. reached pretty late because i was stuck in an insane jam at orchard. jams. gross. ended up sitting alone which was really fine by me because i was aching too much inside out, in every way possible, in every muscle i can think of, the heart included, and even those tiny ones on your eyelids, to do anything else other than sit down and stone. a concert hall full of people jumping up from their seats and screaming sweet nothings to their idols on stage and then there's little miss oldielocks sitting in a corner, giving herself a neck massage. haha.
i wish they played more echoey stuff. i love strings and base. ambient, but not too much. it needs to have soul, and bass gives some soul because of its depth. the trumpets and sax were a nice touch. and the way they used their instruments to do stuff were pretty creative.
a classic line when the lead singer forgot what was the next chord in one of the songs.
"i don't feel bad that i forgot the song. i know you expect me to but i don't feel bad. i'm over it. are you?"
to which the crowd gleefully laps it all up and gives a resounding "of course we're over it" in the form of some kinda...noise.
and another.
"this is not a scary place. don't be afraid, it's not scary...you have those pictures of a man pointing a gun at another man's back (refering to signs in singapore at restricted areas)...hey that's art man!!"
to which the crowd begins to hail him as their guru with another throng of woohoos and whoas and yeas and aaaahs.
but well, as much as i'm trying to sound enthusiastic, i'm actually really tired. and my heart just wasn't completely there. it couldn't really be now, could it?
goodnight anonymous readers of skunkeroonie. god bless you.
i wish they played more echoey stuff. i love strings and base. ambient, but not too much. it needs to have soul, and bass gives some soul because of its depth. the trumpets and sax were a nice touch. and the way they used their instruments to do stuff were pretty creative.
a classic line when the lead singer forgot what was the next chord in one of the songs.
"i don't feel bad that i forgot the song. i know you expect me to but i don't feel bad. i'm over it. are you?"
to which the crowd gleefully laps it all up and gives a resounding "of course we're over it" in the form of some kinda...noise.
and another.
"this is not a scary place. don't be afraid, it's not scary...you have those pictures of a man pointing a gun at another man's back (refering to signs in singapore at restricted areas)...hey that's art man!!"
to which the crowd begins to hail him as their guru with another throng of woohoos and whoas and yeas and aaaahs.
but well, as much as i'm trying to sound enthusiastic, i'm actually really tired. and my heart just wasn't completely there. it couldn't really be now, could it?
goodnight anonymous readers of skunkeroonie. god bless you.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
it's a different kind of conversation.....
excuse the dearth of entries. it happens when i need an escape. i need new experiences to release some epinephrine and norepinephrine a.k.a. happy juice. i need a jolt, an electric shock, a splash into the deep, a boost into the cosmos.
u2's "your blue room" is an amazing song in every sense. it's one of those songs that's hard to get sick of even if you listen to it over and over again. the worse thing i can do is to pick it apart and analyse it.
i wonder, if you manage to pick apart something totally, you'd be left with these little pieces. atomised; electrons, protons, neutrons and is there anything smaller than that? do we know for sure? isn't the beauty in how it all comes together in different combinations? the whole? isn't that what makes you marvel at the tiny details in the first place? that something so glorious emerged from their insignificance?
or look at a human face. we see a perfectly pretty face and try to pick it apart. ok, ugly nose. hmmm, eyes are too small. ok mouth is too big. cheeks a bit chubby? you reduce a perfectly pretty face to a few adjectives about its different parts, forgetting that the whole was in fact beautiful and how every feature came together so perfectly. you forget about the way it touched your heart and jolted your senses.
and here i am analysing what it is to analyse. my life pretty much spirals into a paradox these days. like how i sometimes feel/know i'm living a lie, admitting truthfully that i am, thus in a way, being true and honest with myself. this is all so tripped.
back to my psychology books, the mother of human analysis.
...
......your blue room.
excuse the dearth of entries. it happens when i need an escape. i need new experiences to release some epinephrine and norepinephrine a.k.a. happy juice. i need a jolt, an electric shock, a splash into the deep, a boost into the cosmos.
u2's "your blue room" is an amazing song in every sense. it's one of those songs that's hard to get sick of even if you listen to it over and over again. the worse thing i can do is to pick it apart and analyse it.
i wonder, if you manage to pick apart something totally, you'd be left with these little pieces. atomised; electrons, protons, neutrons and is there anything smaller than that? do we know for sure? isn't the beauty in how it all comes together in different combinations? the whole? isn't that what makes you marvel at the tiny details in the first place? that something so glorious emerged from their insignificance?
or look at a human face. we see a perfectly pretty face and try to pick it apart. ok, ugly nose. hmmm, eyes are too small. ok mouth is too big. cheeks a bit chubby? you reduce a perfectly pretty face to a few adjectives about its different parts, forgetting that the whole was in fact beautiful and how every feature came together so perfectly. you forget about the way it touched your heart and jolted your senses.
and here i am analysing what it is to analyse. my life pretty much spirals into a paradox these days. like how i sometimes feel/know i'm living a lie, admitting truthfully that i am, thus in a way, being true and honest with myself. this is all so tripped.
back to my psychology books, the mother of human analysis.
...
Friday, February 29, 2008
must be the leap year
remember my musings about how art/entertainment imitates life and/or vice-versa? since wednesday, it just went up a notch. strange things have been happening since wednesday.
the head of jemaah islamiah (supposedly a terrorist organisation), mas selamat, escaped from the ISD's whitley road detention centre on wednesday. as i picked up the papers yesterday morning and saw his face there with the accompanying headlines, i was just shocked. how could this happen? apparently, he had asked to go the toilet during a family visit or before and that's when he fled. that sounds too easy. watching too much 24 set my brain ticking, as i tried to play detective figuring out how a high profile criminal like him who poses a big threat to so many people could have escaped so easily? going to the toilet?? hello??! next thing we know, the military, police, airforce, they're all over scouring the roads, coasts, borders, homes, schools on a major manhunt for mas. meanwhile, all the possible plots are flooding my mind. insider job? an excuse to put him down? plain stupidity and carelessness???
i was having lunch just now and looking at my gate and i started to imagine mas running into my house to take refuge. i imagined i was on the stairs looking down and he couldn't see me. i tried to plan what i would do, how i would outsmart him, get him caught. but he must have had alot of training in combat so that would be tricky. i imagined him going to the kitchen and knew that if he got himself a knife, it would be too late. i imagined aunty sitting in her room, oblivious that a man, now armed, was just outside her room. i imagined how i'd save her, how i'd knock him out cold with a vase or something. it's not highly impossible. i imagine that having nowhere to run, it could turn into a hostage situation. but if it's an insider job, there are probably more people involved, planning his whole escape route. watch 24 season 3 if you don't believe me!
then, last night, i was at the park near the main road beside my house. mutu and i were talking when we heard a loud sound. i remember the first thought that ran through my head, "motorcyle!" after a moment's hesitation (we hesitated because it seemed like noone was stopping, there was no shouting, and everyone seemed to be going on with their life normally), we decided to go out and see what it was. when we caught our first glimpse of the road, we saw a man lying flat in the middle of the road, knocked out cold! we walked over to where he was. 3 other people were there, but they were passerbys. noone saw what happened to him. but from what i heard, he was definitely hit. and whoever hit him had scrammed. it was an old man. there was a cut on his left leg and his right elbow was dislocated (it was a horrible sight to see his arm dangling from the elbow!). his newspaper and wallet lay a distance from him. one slipper was still on his right foot or nearby, i forget, and the other one lay some distance away. thank goodness he was still breathing. he looked as though he were sleeping. one of the bystanders smelt his breath and realised he had been drinking himself. someone called for the ambulance and the rest of us stood there not knowing what to do, afraid that by moving him, we might aggravate an unknown injury. just then, a woman came by and started yelling instructions to us. a few of us followed her instructions and carried him to the pavement. the ambulance and police came and by that time, the guy had already woken up. he was struggling and trying to get up from the stretcher! he just wanted to go home!! can you believe this guy? he didnt have an IC or anything with him, not even a phone. and he refused to let us call anyone. well, mervin and i left after the paramedics and police came but i guess the guy is probably ok. i just don't get how you can hit someone and drive off, even after hearing the thud and the screams and watching the person's body squirm on the ground or lay motionless. i wonder how you can live with yourself. or are you "used" to it? i guess i can understand but it really shows some kind of poverty somewhere. fear stinks. it reeks. but i think, nonchalance is worse.
then, there's this dog. he has a collar so i think he belongs to someone around here. but he keeps walking around freely on my lane. this morning, when i was in the bathroom, i heard the dogs in this lane creating a racket! they were howling away and barking. and amidst their howls, i heard the squeaks and yelps of another dog. i ran out of the bathroom to the window, afraid that something bad was happening but i couldn't see where that yelping bark came from. i did see the wandering dog but he seemed to be looking at something in my neighbour's house. when i got back just now, that dog was still outside my neighbour's house!!! it looked like he'd been waiting there the whole time. i asked aunty why he was there and aunty said, he must be waiting for "ginger", the neighbour's dog. but i didn't see ginger anywhere. i've never seen ginger in my life! it's so strange.
i think what makes these 3 separate incidents very strange is that there are so many missing links in these stories, thus enshrouding them in mystery. how did mas escape and where is he now? who hit the old man? why does the old man want to remain anonymous? why was that dog yelping today and why were all the dogs howling? why was the wandering dog stationed outside my neighbour's house for such a long time??? so strange...
update: the wandering dog is ginger's lover. the howling this morning was because they were "at it", through the gate. gosh. haha. and then, the neighbours took ginger inside and ever since then, wandering dog has been sitting there at the gate waiting for his lover the whole day! he's still waiting there!!! sigh.
remember my musings about how art/entertainment imitates life and/or vice-versa? since wednesday, it just went up a notch. strange things have been happening since wednesday.
the head of jemaah islamiah (supposedly a terrorist organisation), mas selamat, escaped from the ISD's whitley road detention centre on wednesday. as i picked up the papers yesterday morning and saw his face there with the accompanying headlines, i was just shocked. how could this happen? apparently, he had asked to go the toilet during a family visit or before and that's when he fled. that sounds too easy. watching too much 24 set my brain ticking, as i tried to play detective figuring out how a high profile criminal like him who poses a big threat to so many people could have escaped so easily? going to the toilet?? hello??! next thing we know, the military, police, airforce, they're all over scouring the roads, coasts, borders, homes, schools on a major manhunt for mas. meanwhile, all the possible plots are flooding my mind. insider job? an excuse to put him down? plain stupidity and carelessness???
i was having lunch just now and looking at my gate and i started to imagine mas running into my house to take refuge. i imagined i was on the stairs looking down and he couldn't see me. i tried to plan what i would do, how i would outsmart him, get him caught. but he must have had alot of training in combat so that would be tricky. i imagined him going to the kitchen and knew that if he got himself a knife, it would be too late. i imagined aunty sitting in her room, oblivious that a man, now armed, was just outside her room. i imagined how i'd save her, how i'd knock him out cold with a vase or something. it's not highly impossible. i imagine that having nowhere to run, it could turn into a hostage situation. but if it's an insider job, there are probably more people involved, planning his whole escape route. watch 24 season 3 if you don't believe me!
then, last night, i was at the park near the main road beside my house. mutu and i were talking when we heard a loud sound. i remember the first thought that ran through my head, "motorcyle!" after a moment's hesitation (we hesitated because it seemed like noone was stopping, there was no shouting, and everyone seemed to be going on with their life normally), we decided to go out and see what it was. when we caught our first glimpse of the road, we saw a man lying flat in the middle of the road, knocked out cold! we walked over to where he was. 3 other people were there, but they were passerbys. noone saw what happened to him. but from what i heard, he was definitely hit. and whoever hit him had scrammed. it was an old man. there was a cut on his left leg and his right elbow was dislocated (it was a horrible sight to see his arm dangling from the elbow!). his newspaper and wallet lay a distance from him. one slipper was still on his right foot or nearby, i forget, and the other one lay some distance away. thank goodness he was still breathing. he looked as though he were sleeping. one of the bystanders smelt his breath and realised he had been drinking himself. someone called for the ambulance and the rest of us stood there not knowing what to do, afraid that by moving him, we might aggravate an unknown injury. just then, a woman came by and started yelling instructions to us. a few of us followed her instructions and carried him to the pavement. the ambulance and police came and by that time, the guy had already woken up. he was struggling and trying to get up from the stretcher! he just wanted to go home!! can you believe this guy? he didnt have an IC or anything with him, not even a phone. and he refused to let us call anyone. well, mervin and i left after the paramedics and police came but i guess the guy is probably ok. i just don't get how you can hit someone and drive off, even after hearing the thud and the screams and watching the person's body squirm on the ground or lay motionless. i wonder how you can live with yourself. or are you "used" to it? i guess i can understand but it really shows some kind of poverty somewhere. fear stinks. it reeks. but i think, nonchalance is worse.
then, there's this dog. he has a collar so i think he belongs to someone around here. but he keeps walking around freely on my lane. this morning, when i was in the bathroom, i heard the dogs in this lane creating a racket! they were howling away and barking. and amidst their howls, i heard the squeaks and yelps of another dog. i ran out of the bathroom to the window, afraid that something bad was happening but i couldn't see where that yelping bark came from. i did see the wandering dog but he seemed to be looking at something in my neighbour's house. when i got back just now, that dog was still outside my neighbour's house!!! it looked like he'd been waiting there the whole time. i asked aunty why he was there and aunty said, he must be waiting for "ginger", the neighbour's dog. but i didn't see ginger anywhere. i've never seen ginger in my life! it's so strange.
i think what makes these 3 separate incidents very strange is that there are so many missing links in these stories, thus enshrouding them in mystery. how did mas escape and where is he now? who hit the old man? why does the old man want to remain anonymous? why was that dog yelping today and why were all the dogs howling? why was the wandering dog stationed outside my neighbour's house for such a long time??? so strange...
update: the wandering dog is ginger's lover. the howling this morning was because they were "at it", through the gate. gosh. haha. and then, the neighbours took ginger inside and ever since then, wandering dog has been sitting there at the gate waiting for his lover the whole day! he's still waiting there!!! sigh.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
thank god i'm finally on my bed. everything's aching like mad i'm getting old it's not funny. some days, even a minute seems too long and you want the whole week to fast forward. then there are some day where even 24 hours is not enough. but i say, if a day was longer than 24 hours, we'd be very tired people, i think. or maybe just me. a very tired old aching person. cultural psych exam on thursday with 6 research papers to digest and pick apart (it's an online exam in class and so i have to look for a laptop with windows!! actually my mac has one but i decided i didn't want to use it anymore and i think i deleted bootcamp.). filming for amazing race asia audition tape, which has to be done by friday because melt is going to climb kinabalu and we'll have no time after that (melt and reenie are trying their luck! will talk more about it after the application deadline. can't let our brilliant ideas leak out to our competitors, can we? we have to get in! i can't stop dreaming about it!!!). video-editting is gonna take forever. and there is cognitive psych exam coming up too. and oh, internship work. and of course, decisions to make and things to plan and you know what, i'm gonna sleep. goodnight!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
building a mystery
i love you.
pause. why?
what do you mean?
pause. why do you love me? (why would you love me?)
i don't know. i just love you.
pause. why?
when i look at you, i just want to love you.
silence. why me? why not anyone else?
pause. why do you love me?
i don't know, i just do.
you see!
when she fell silent, she was already convinced. that was the difference between the pauses and the silences. his one-liners always stunned her; they were always perfectly simple and simply perfect. most importantly, they were from his heart. love uncomplicated itself in his presence. it was just...love. but she never told him so, told him that she believed. she always added an extra "why?" for good measure, to make sure that it wasn't a mistake. she didn't have to. noone could have said it better, something so simple and true.
"when i look at you, i just want to love you."
Saturday, February 16, 2008
till today, i had forgotten how i much i loved long, lonely busrides home at night. till just now, i had forgotten how music can take me away to another place where everything makes sense, where pain is fully acknowledged and experienced but does not sting and does not need to be hidden, where i can celebrate the sacredness of my being and the essence of my soul.
some days, i go to the movies. i pay about $7-9 for a ticket and sit tight for 2.5 hours watching people laugh, cry, fight, make love, lose, win, sleep, eat, drive, hide, die, date, break up, dance, turn into a total mess, lose faith, kill, steal, watch tv, stare into space, pump petrol, dream, sigh, put on make up and comb their hair, only in different combinations. some days, i think, how my life seems to have jumped straight out of a movie, or did movies, as incredible and unrealistic as they seem, jump straight out of life itself? (well, the truman show illustrates this really well) i replay memories in the screen of my mind, which only i can see, these memories that i never dreamt i would one day have, and wonder that maybe, just maybe, people might actually pay $7-9 for this. but noone ever will, because noone will ever know. i wonder, will these memories die with me. these stories, these moments, will they just cease to exist? or did they die the moment they were born?
i attempted to begin writing a script for a movie two days ago after listening to my grandma recount snippets of her life to me. as she spoke, my mind was a giant projector. i added music and colour, visualised the characters, imagined how the scenes would connect between past and present and finally, the inevitable future. it started to look like the epic of the century up there and i was really serious about it. it wouldn't be for money, it would be a tribute to life and death, a tribute to memories, a tribute to humanity and its beauty, a tribute to amama. i didn't know what spurred me then (i don't just go writing scripts on a whim!) but i think it's the sudden desperation to grab all you can of what's left of those moments, and then, the memories, before you lose them forever. it suddenly hits you, you could lose it forever and you think that perhaps, just perhaps, you could just immortalise some part of it.
i should be sleeping. i did something stupid today. like one of those stupid girls in one of those stupid horror movies who stupidly walks straight into trouble and makes you feel like slapping her silly. or one of those stupid girls in one of those stupid chick flicks who can't see what's good infront of her and walks away from it and makes you feel like shaking her silly so she'll wake up her friggin' idea. sigh.
some days, i go to the movies. i pay about $7-9 for a ticket and sit tight for 2.5 hours watching people laugh, cry, fight, make love, lose, win, sleep, eat, drive, hide, die, date, break up, dance, turn into a total mess, lose faith, kill, steal, watch tv, stare into space, pump petrol, dream, sigh, put on make up and comb their hair, only in different combinations. some days, i think, how my life seems to have jumped straight out of a movie, or did movies, as incredible and unrealistic as they seem, jump straight out of life itself? (well, the truman show illustrates this really well) i replay memories in the screen of my mind, which only i can see, these memories that i never dreamt i would one day have, and wonder that maybe, just maybe, people might actually pay $7-9 for this. but noone ever will, because noone will ever know. i wonder, will these memories die with me. these stories, these moments, will they just cease to exist? or did they die the moment they were born?
i attempted to begin writing a script for a movie two days ago after listening to my grandma recount snippets of her life to me. as she spoke, my mind was a giant projector. i added music and colour, visualised the characters, imagined how the scenes would connect between past and present and finally, the inevitable future. it started to look like the epic of the century up there and i was really serious about it. it wouldn't be for money, it would be a tribute to life and death, a tribute to memories, a tribute to humanity and its beauty, a tribute to amama. i didn't know what spurred me then (i don't just go writing scripts on a whim!) but i think it's the sudden desperation to grab all you can of what's left of those moments, and then, the memories, before you lose them forever. it suddenly hits you, you could lose it forever and you think that perhaps, just perhaps, you could just immortalise some part of it.
i should be sleeping. i did something stupid today. like one of those stupid girls in one of those stupid horror movies who stupidly walks straight into trouble and makes you feel like slapping her silly. or one of those stupid girls in one of those stupid chick flicks who can't see what's good infront of her and walks away from it and makes you feel like shaking her silly so she'll wake up her friggin' idea. sigh.
nobody said it was easy,
no one ever said it would be so hard.
oh take me back to the start.
no one ever said it would be so hard.
oh take me back to the start.