Remember. To. Breathe.
Phew! =)
Monday, November 01, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Failing Driving: The Whiny Version
Did my luck run out on me?
Freak, out of all the six testers available for my time slot, I had to ballot the only cranky one. Tester A, when he came to beckon Testee A to her car, made a point to smile, make small talk, put her at ease. Tester B, with his boyish features, also hardly projected the menacing aura that stereotypes most Testers.
Tester C, my Tester, had to be the only Tester who looked hungrier than a silverfish in a library. He merely snorted when I greeted him, hardly flinched when I flashed my most innocent and friendly smile at him, and made the following short prayer just prior to moving off -
"Oh please grant me strength this day
To fail as many as I can
For if only I could have my way
All these Testees I would ban"
And every time Tester C made a little tick on his scoresheet, he might as well have just stabbed his merciless pencil into my bleeding heart, for I would have had trouble distinguishing which was the more painful. At the end of it all, when he debriefed me on my mistakes, I swear he graduated top of his Be-A-Stringent-And-Petty-Tester class back in Tester School. Grr.
Whine.
Freak, out of all the six testers available for my time slot, I had to ballot the only cranky one. Tester A, when he came to beckon Testee A to her car, made a point to smile, make small talk, put her at ease. Tester B, with his boyish features, also hardly projected the menacing aura that stereotypes most Testers.
Tester C, my Tester, had to be the only Tester who looked hungrier than a silverfish in a library. He merely snorted when I greeted him, hardly flinched when I flashed my most innocent and friendly smile at him, and made the following short prayer just prior to moving off -
"Oh please grant me strength this day
To fail as many as I can
For if only I could have my way
All these Testees I would ban"
And every time Tester C made a little tick on his scoresheet, he might as well have just stabbed his merciless pencil into my bleeding heart, for I would have had trouble distinguishing which was the more painful. At the end of it all, when he debriefed me on my mistakes, I swear he graduated top of his Be-A-Stringent-And-Petty-Tester class back in Tester School. Grr.
Whine.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
The Final 16th
This wonderful journey that we've been on
You begun so long ago
Has bequeathed me with memories so fond
Of which I loathe to forego
Yet today I feel it must all end
The way I keep you alive inside
For only then will I truly mend
With no more feelings to hide
For it takes to much to continue
Loving you the way I did
And since this love is no longer true
The advice of my friends I'll heed
No more poems every 30 days
No more heartaches on hearing that song
No more in dreams do I see your face
No more for us I long
No more short prayers to find you well
No more surprises to find and wrap
No more on alternate paths to always dwell
No more maybes no more perhaps
I trust in him to treat you right
To elicit the smiles from you
To protect to honour to delight
To give you what you're due
With this last stanza I relinquish all
And end the epilogue of our story
For all the times I've failed before
Let me say, I'm truly sorry
You begun so long ago
Has bequeathed me with memories so fond
Of which I loathe to forego
Yet today I feel it must all end
The way I keep you alive inside
For only then will I truly mend
With no more feelings to hide
For it takes to much to continue
Loving you the way I did
And since this love is no longer true
The advice of my friends I'll heed
No more poems every 30 days
No more heartaches on hearing that song
No more in dreams do I see your face
No more for us I long
No more short prayers to find you well
No more surprises to find and wrap
No more on alternate paths to always dwell
No more maybes no more perhaps
I trust in him to treat you right
To elicit the smiles from you
To protect to honour to delight
To give you what you're due
With this last stanza I relinquish all
And end the epilogue of our story
For all the times I've failed before
Let me say, I'm truly sorry
Monday, October 11, 2004
Chronicles of Daphne 1
When my dad sat down to dinner, he couldn't help notice the assorted art and craft material on the table. Glue, scissors, paper, colouring pencils. I know he intentionally avoided asking me anything, because there was this constipated look on his face.
But after I brought out the disposable chopsticks and began to piece it all together, his resistance caved in.
"What in the name of Enthusiastic NS Men are you doing?"
With a twinkle in my eye, "Aha. Just wait."
And when we all gathered to watch Singapore Idol later, I scoffed at the half-hearted support my parents were offering some of the contestants. They had merely pointed out their good points, praised their performances, rooted for them from the couch.
But when Daphne appeared... OUT CAME THE DAPHNE FLAG!
Who cared what they thought? I had a Daphne Flag, and there was no way she would lose!
Of course, later I overheard my mum whisper to my dad about some refund from the adoption agency, but I was hardly ruffled. Daphne had made it through another week. =)
But after I brought out the disposable chopsticks and began to piece it all together, his resistance caved in.
"What in the name of Enthusiastic NS Men are you doing?"
With a twinkle in my eye, "Aha. Just wait."
And when we all gathered to watch Singapore Idol later, I scoffed at the half-hearted support my parents were offering some of the contestants. They had merely pointed out their good points, praised their performances, rooted for them from the couch.
But when Daphne appeared... OUT CAME THE DAPHNE FLAG!
Who cared what they thought? I had a Daphne Flag, and there was no way she would lose!
Of course, later I overheard my mum whisper to my dad about some refund from the adoption agency, but I was hardly ruffled. Daphne had made it through another week. =)
Thursday, October 07, 2004
One More Crush
I admit it! I'm in love, again!
Oh man, this girl is so hot she has made me do the craziest things! On the way home, when my friends talked about her, I cast aside my weariness like a misfit coat and started babbling about her! The way she moves, the way she talks, the way she sings....
And for the first time in my life, I made out an SMS to her. I mean, I've always scoffed at people who SMS like this, because I always felt they were wasting hard-earned money in a pointless venture. But against all better sense, against how many donkey years of speaking out against such practices, I SMSed in support of her!
DAPHNE, YOU HAVE MY VOTE FOR SINGAPORE IDOL!!!!!
Oh man, this girl is so hot she has made me do the craziest things! On the way home, when my friends talked about her, I cast aside my weariness like a misfit coat and started babbling about her! The way she moves, the way she talks, the way she sings....
And for the first time in my life, I made out an SMS to her. I mean, I've always scoffed at people who SMS like this, because I always felt they were wasting hard-earned money in a pointless venture. But against all better sense, against how many donkey years of speaking out against such practices, I SMSed in support of her!
DAPHNE, YOU HAVE MY VOTE FOR SINGAPORE IDOL!!!!!
Being Anti-Social
It's strange. I have an entire list of flaws to grapple with, but I never thought I would have to deal with this one.
The first time I suspected I had a problem with being anti-social was in Secondary school, where a few personality tests profiled me as having slight anti-social tendancies. Pshaw, I thought, that's rubbish. I saw myself as being the kind of person who didn't have problems mixing, and who loved to be in the company of friends and family. Anti-social, me?
But over time, and as more friends became more open with me, I found that at times I would very easily shy away from large gatherings or reunions. Most recently, when old cadet friends came over to stay at my bunk to study for an exam, I found myself being very, very unwilling to go and spend the night with them. I preferred to stay home, do my own thing, and well, just have a bit of quiet. And that's when I was accused of being anti-social.
It's true, I guess. At times I find myself gravitating to smaller group outings, instead of the huge Hey-Aren't-You-My-Sister's-Friend's-Boyfriend's-Uncle's-Friend? kind of gatherings.
And just when I started fretting about being socially inept and not surviving in the outside world, it struck me. This isn't about being anti-social. It's about being BROODY.
Oh man. The brooding, quiet hunk. Johnny Depp. Brad Pitt. The QUINTESSENTIAL Alpha Male.
Oh man. =)
The first time I suspected I had a problem with being anti-social was in Secondary school, where a few personality tests profiled me as having slight anti-social tendancies. Pshaw, I thought, that's rubbish. I saw myself as being the kind of person who didn't have problems mixing, and who loved to be in the company of friends and family. Anti-social, me?
But over time, and as more friends became more open with me, I found that at times I would very easily shy away from large gatherings or reunions. Most recently, when old cadet friends came over to stay at my bunk to study for an exam, I found myself being very, very unwilling to go and spend the night with them. I preferred to stay home, do my own thing, and well, just have a bit of quiet. And that's when I was accused of being anti-social.
It's true, I guess. At times I find myself gravitating to smaller group outings, instead of the huge Hey-Aren't-You-My-Sister's-Friend's-Boyfriend's-Uncle's-Friend? kind of gatherings.
And just when I started fretting about being socially inept and not surviving in the outside world, it struck me. This isn't about being anti-social. It's about being BROODY.
Oh man. The brooding, quiet hunk. Johnny Depp. Brad Pitt. The QUINTESSENTIAL Alpha Male.
Oh man. =)
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Gasp...
Phew!
Super quick updates, which hopefully will translate into full length blogs soon!
01. Started tuition for my cousin! Mandarin some more! Haha, I can just feel all my previous Mandarin teachers laughing at me...
02. Ran a 21km half-marathon! Know it's old news by now, but what the heck.
03. Entering the final phase of driving lessons! Must pass must pass or at least not tell anyone if I fail!
04. Started a short story! Will post it soon!
05. Got super disgusted about some worms in the army! Super unbelievable! Bao Qing Tian will have a field day!
06. A chiobu asked me to learn ballroom dancing with her!!! FREAK!!!
07. Had a reservist trainee assume I was like 25+! Said I looked mature!
08. Fell in love with, then got heatbroken by, Daphne Khoo, who's attached!
09. Finished issuing the last of the Bear Hug coupons!
10. Put on weight!
11. Drank too much coffee!
Haha.
Super quick updates, which hopefully will translate into full length blogs soon!
01. Started tuition for my cousin! Mandarin some more! Haha, I can just feel all my previous Mandarin teachers laughing at me...
02. Ran a 21km half-marathon! Know it's old news by now, but what the heck.
03. Entering the final phase of driving lessons! Must pass must pass or at least not tell anyone if I fail!
04. Started a short story! Will post it soon!
05. Got super disgusted about some worms in the army! Super unbelievable! Bao Qing Tian will have a field day!
06. A chiobu asked me to learn ballroom dancing with her!!! FREAK!!!
07. Had a reservist trainee assume I was like 25+! Said I looked mature!
08. Fell in love with, then got heatbroken by, Daphne Khoo, who's attached!
09. Finished issuing the last of the Bear Hug coupons!
10. Put on weight!
11. Drank too much coffee!
Haha.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
The Irresistable Sweetness Of....
It was the glint in his eyes that lent all the weight to his words.
A particularly serious, determined glint. Was it a trick of the light? I couldn't be sure, but contextually speaking, what with the bitter grin he was wearing and the velvety threatening undertones in his voice, chances were he meant every word of it.
I tried my best to defuse the situation. I employed an old trick in the book, simultaneously tyring to lighten the mood and make him see that I could empathize, identify with him.Then when he could see that I was on his side, I would attempt to bring him round to his senses.
"Haha, you know, I thought of the exact same thing myself. But nah, in the end you'll find that it's all meaningless, then you'll just give it up."
Sigh.
It's bad enough, in my opinion, when a couple breaks up. Whether the separation was an amicable one or not, both parties will usually experience an immense sense of loss initially, and will harbour a silver of doubt for a long, long time as to whether it was the right move, breaking up. From the sidelines, every relationship dissolution never fails to dim my day. I find myself pondering the unharvasted possibilities that will never bear fruit, and feel genuinely, sincerely sad for the parties involved.
It's bad enough to see real love, care and concern somehow just melt away. It's worse to see them deforming into bitterness, anger, hatred.
"You see, just when you want to inflict the masterstroke that will hurt her, pay her back for all that she's done to you, justified or not, you'll realise that there's no point to it. She's already happier with someone else, why woo her back just to dump her? To make her feel what you're feeling now? Come on, after all, you once had unmeasurable reserves of love and tenderness for her, why don't..."
"Hanting. You know what's the difference between you and me?" Silence. "I will do it."
And with that he strode away, still grinning wildly.
Everybody knows that it will taint your soul, smear your conscience with an indelible smudge. But sometimes, our weak wills yield to the irresistable sweetness of Revenge.
Where is the love, the love, the love....
A particularly serious, determined glint. Was it a trick of the light? I couldn't be sure, but contextually speaking, what with the bitter grin he was wearing and the velvety threatening undertones in his voice, chances were he meant every word of it.
I tried my best to defuse the situation. I employed an old trick in the book, simultaneously tyring to lighten the mood and make him see that I could empathize, identify with him.Then when he could see that I was on his side, I would attempt to bring him round to his senses.
"Haha, you know, I thought of the exact same thing myself. But nah, in the end you'll find that it's all meaningless, then you'll just give it up."
Sigh.
It's bad enough, in my opinion, when a couple breaks up. Whether the separation was an amicable one or not, both parties will usually experience an immense sense of loss initially, and will harbour a silver of doubt for a long, long time as to whether it was the right move, breaking up. From the sidelines, every relationship dissolution never fails to dim my day. I find myself pondering the unharvasted possibilities that will never bear fruit, and feel genuinely, sincerely sad for the parties involved.
It's bad enough to see real love, care and concern somehow just melt away. It's worse to see them deforming into bitterness, anger, hatred.
"You see, just when you want to inflict the masterstroke that will hurt her, pay her back for all that she's done to you, justified or not, you'll realise that there's no point to it. She's already happier with someone else, why woo her back just to dump her? To make her feel what you're feeling now? Come on, after all, you once had unmeasurable reserves of love and tenderness for her, why don't..."
"Hanting. You know what's the difference between you and me?" Silence. "I will do it."
And with that he strode away, still grinning wildly.
Everybody knows that it will taint your soul, smear your conscience with an indelible smudge. But sometimes, our weak wills yield to the irresistable sweetness of Revenge.
Where is the love, the love, the love....
Monday, September 20, 2004
Polygamy
I was out with a bunch of friends, at the recently concluded Army Open House, when we passed by this particular booth exhibiting the Army's new thrusts into the online world. For some reason, to promote the new Army portal they chose to have a few scantily clad girls demonstrate the portal's special qualities. Right. I wonder who was getting more hits, the portal or the girls.
So anyway, because we were a bunch of guys, we were all like "Hey, hey, let's go over and look at the girls." I abstained, due to the fact that I had already accessed the portal previously, and then noticed that another of my friends was hesitating as well.
This friend, a Bruneian trainee, obviously had trouble fending off the peer pressure then directed at him. For some reason he really wasn't very excited about going up to see the girls, and then it struck me. "Aha!" I said, "Noji, you've got a girlfriend right?"
"No lah, I'm married already."
"But wait, I thought you can marry more than once?"
"Can, under Islamic law I can. Up to a maximum of four."
The rest of us took a sinful moment to indulge in the imagining of a life with four wives. My friend burst out then, unable to control his curiousity despite the possibility of sounding offensive, "Then why don't you?!?"
Noji shook his head a tad too sadly, then replied. "Cannot lah, my wife will get angry."
Further proof that feisty women are more effective than laws upon laws upon laws.
So anyway, because we were a bunch of guys, we were all like "Hey, hey, let's go over and look at the girls." I abstained, due to the fact that I had already accessed the portal previously, and then noticed that another of my friends was hesitating as well.
This friend, a Bruneian trainee, obviously had trouble fending off the peer pressure then directed at him. For some reason he really wasn't very excited about going up to see the girls, and then it struck me. "Aha!" I said, "Noji, you've got a girlfriend right?"
"No lah, I'm married already."
"But wait, I thought you can marry more than once?"
"Can, under Islamic law I can. Up to a maximum of four."
The rest of us took a sinful moment to indulge in the imagining of a life with four wives. My friend burst out then, unable to control his curiousity despite the possibility of sounding offensive, "Then why don't you?!?"
Noji shook his head a tad too sadly, then replied. "Cannot lah, my wife will get angry."
Further proof that feisty women are more effective than laws upon laws upon laws.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Attention All Club Members
THE FOLLOWING IS A NOTICE TO ALL 105 OFFICIAL FAN CLUB MEMBERS
Dear members, we were just notified today that in less than THREE months Hanting might be fitted with braces. To cope with this drastic change, the following policy modifications will take effect IMMEDIATELY.
1. No Kiss Ration Coupons can be exchanged after 1 January 2005. All members are advised to use their Kiss Coupons at the earliest opportunity.
2. Members with ID Numbers 01 - 20 have been given priority, and can exchange their coupons from 20 September 2004 onwards.
3. Members with ID Numbers 21 - 105 can only start exchanging their coupons after 01 October 2004. Any earlier attempt to claim Kisses by Members 21 - 105 will NOT be entertained.
4. The Fan Club Management (FCM) recognises that due to popular demand some Kiss Ration Coupons have surfaced in the black market, and are now in the possession of unregistered Fans. No claims from unregistered Fans will be entertained.
5. Starting from the month of October, FCM will be issuing Bear Hug Ration Coupons in lieu of the Kiss Ration Coupons. Please make sure you, as a registered Member, receive the replacement Coupons.
HE IS CURRENTLY UPGRADING IN ORDER TO SERVE YOU BETTER. WE APOLOGISE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.
=)
Dear members, we were just notified today that in less than THREE months Hanting might be fitted with braces. To cope with this drastic change, the following policy modifications will take effect IMMEDIATELY.
1. No Kiss Ration Coupons can be exchanged after 1 January 2005. All members are advised to use their Kiss Coupons at the earliest opportunity.
2. Members with ID Numbers 01 - 20 have been given priority, and can exchange their coupons from 20 September 2004 onwards.
3. Members with ID Numbers 21 - 105 can only start exchanging their coupons after 01 October 2004. Any earlier attempt to claim Kisses by Members 21 - 105 will NOT be entertained.
4. The Fan Club Management (FCM) recognises that due to popular demand some Kiss Ration Coupons have surfaced in the black market, and are now in the possession of unregistered Fans. No claims from unregistered Fans will be entertained.
5. Starting from the month of October, FCM will be issuing Bear Hug Ration Coupons in lieu of the Kiss Ration Coupons. Please make sure you, as a registered Member, receive the replacement Coupons.
HE IS CURRENTLY UPGRADING IN ORDER TO SERVE YOU BETTER. WE APOLOGISE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.
=)
Friday, September 17, 2004
16th....
If I do not do anything
You will leave soon, once more
Do you not bother or are you just waiting
Enduring this cold, cold war?
Whatever would make you assume
I wouldn't want to see or talk to you?
Or would I be wrong to presume
That the things you have to say to me are simply too few?
The cruellest part of it all
Is that I am probably the only one remaining
The only one who can still recall
All the memories worth treasuring
I feel that if I was to completely let go
And forget all that we had
The world will never be able to know
The special past we shared
And how can I let that happen?
To let our history just melt away?
To say the least I am reluctant
Thus with me a bit of us will always stay
Foolish or stubborn? Foolish and stubborn?
You can say what you want of me
Who knows, maybe yet one day I'll learn
That it's much better to be free
You will leave soon, once more
Do you not bother or are you just waiting
Enduring this cold, cold war?
Whatever would make you assume
I wouldn't want to see or talk to you?
Or would I be wrong to presume
That the things you have to say to me are simply too few?
The cruellest part of it all
Is that I am probably the only one remaining
The only one who can still recall
All the memories worth treasuring
I feel that if I was to completely let go
And forget all that we had
The world will never be able to know
The special past we shared
And how can I let that happen?
To let our history just melt away?
To say the least I am reluctant
Thus with me a bit of us will always stay
Foolish or stubborn? Foolish and stubborn?
You can say what you want of me
Who knows, maybe yet one day I'll learn
That it's much better to be free
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Lucy And AnnMarie
The room was quiet. There was none of the buzz nor lively rhythmn that is so characteristic of most Operations Rooms, the heart of every army camp. We sat silently in a circle, the rain swallowing us from outside, drowning out all sound with its monotonous, incessant beat. Though nothing was said, you could sense immediately that this wasn't a group of people just sitting around bathed in gloominess, but a group of people waiting for something, and waiting very, very anxiously.
And then the door burst open, with a clap of thunder right on cue. The weary stranger, looking tired and gaunt, out of place with his strange out-landish clothes, grit his teeth and said,
"I am here. For I am the Photocopier Man."
Life throbbed hard in the Operations Room, once those words sliced through the immense suspense. The elders hopped out of their chairs, guiding The One to Lucy. I held the hands of those around me, mouth agape, unable to believe that the time had finally come. The expressions we wore then reflected the relief and hope that had been born anew, which like twin shining beacons had already driven off the darkness of the past month. The young ones ran around and played again, freed of an oppressive silence they didn't understand. All eyes were on The One.
He placed his strange, magical bag on the ground beside him, took Lucy in his arms and took a good long look. Finally, he grimly muttered, "Looks bad, but I should be able to do something for her." Our relief was then complete, for finally, eventually, Lucy would return to the folds of the living.
And as The One began his healing, I was probably the only person in the gathering crowd that was fearful, uneasy. A dark secret, nested in me, burned painfully inside. I know other people would understand, but would Lucy? If I told her that I am a man, I too have my needs, would she forgive me when I explained how AnnMarie had come into my life during the dark month that she was gone?
I caught myself thinking these dangerous thoughts, and chuckled quietly. As long as Lucy was well again, as long as she could live and breathe freely again, what did it matter, whether she still wanted me? What did it matter that I would never be able to see her again, cherish her the exact same way, if she was happy?
Unnoticed, I walked to the door and slipped out. As I walked away I could hear the chorus of cheers and jubilation from behind the closed door, and I could somehow feel Lucy again, almost as if the bond was still there. But time rolls on, and my time with her was over.
Oh, Lucy. If only you knew.
And then the door burst open, with a clap of thunder right on cue. The weary stranger, looking tired and gaunt, out of place with his strange out-landish clothes, grit his teeth and said,
"I am here. For I am the Photocopier Man."
Life throbbed hard in the Operations Room, once those words sliced through the immense suspense. The elders hopped out of their chairs, guiding The One to Lucy. I held the hands of those around me, mouth agape, unable to believe that the time had finally come. The expressions we wore then reflected the relief and hope that had been born anew, which like twin shining beacons had already driven off the darkness of the past month. The young ones ran around and played again, freed of an oppressive silence they didn't understand. All eyes were on The One.
He placed his strange, magical bag on the ground beside him, took Lucy in his arms and took a good long look. Finally, he grimly muttered, "Looks bad, but I should be able to do something for her." Our relief was then complete, for finally, eventually, Lucy would return to the folds of the living.
And as The One began his healing, I was probably the only person in the gathering crowd that was fearful, uneasy. A dark secret, nested in me, burned painfully inside. I know other people would understand, but would Lucy? If I told her that I am a man, I too have my needs, would she forgive me when I explained how AnnMarie had come into my life during the dark month that she was gone?
I caught myself thinking these dangerous thoughts, and chuckled quietly. As long as Lucy was well again, as long as she could live and breathe freely again, what did it matter, whether she still wanted me? What did it matter that I would never be able to see her again, cherish her the exact same way, if she was happy?
Unnoticed, I walked to the door and slipped out. As I walked away I could hear the chorus of cheers and jubilation from behind the closed door, and I could somehow feel Lucy again, almost as if the bond was still there. But time rolls on, and my time with her was over.
Oh, Lucy. If only you knew.
A Close Shave
So, it happened like this.
I was messaging some of my friends, wanting to share with them the joy bundled in me (no, not the unborn-one kind) that had stemmed from a particularly smooth sailing driving lesson. But a slip of the fingers led me to messaging this girl (whom we shall call XXX) instead of this other friend (XXX YY).
I thought nothing of it, even though XXX and I are hardly more than acquaintances. After not attending my phone for a while, I came back to it only to find that she had called me twice. She had also sent a short casual message acknowledging my efforts, and I thought, what the heck, it would be nice to call back and just say thanks.
Who would be thinking of Murphy's Law at a time like this? Yes, her boyfriend picked up. Haha.
But then again, no-one could possibly not feel threatened. =)
I was messaging some of my friends, wanting to share with them the joy bundled in me (no, not the unborn-one kind) that had stemmed from a particularly smooth sailing driving lesson. But a slip of the fingers led me to messaging this girl (whom we shall call XXX) instead of this other friend (XXX YY).
I thought nothing of it, even though XXX and I are hardly more than acquaintances. After not attending my phone for a while, I came back to it only to find that she had called me twice. She had also sent a short casual message acknowledging my efforts, and I thought, what the heck, it would be nice to call back and just say thanks.
Who would be thinking of Murphy's Law at a time like this? Yes, her boyfriend picked up. Haha.
But then again, no-one could possibly not feel threatened. =)
Monday, September 13, 2004
One Last Uniform
When I opened my wardrobe this morning, ready to change up to go to work, I found but one set of uniform. One *last* set of uniform.
It's like how addicts or workaholics 'wake up' one day to find themselves in a situation that has completely spun out of control, and are subsequently so shocked that they resolve to begin anew. They painfully try to distance themselves from the bad habits they have come to cultivate, and resolve to do what's right instead of what's convenient. I guess it's about time for me too.
You see, the past two weeks or so have been outrageously decadent, in retrospect. I cannot remember how it exactly began, but I suspect it started when discipline at work commenced its downward slide. As two of my colleagues entered the final phase of their NS life, or 'ORD Mood', the entire office seemed plagued with a certain lethargy and complacency.
The Mood's highly infectious. There's no way, in my opinion, a NSF can continue his work dilligently when his colleagues are Mooding. When the guy next to you at work talks about clearing leave, preparing for University, relinquishing work to understudies and going for holidays, your grip on a healthy work philosophy slips.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I've been guilty of it. I've stayed up way too late (thus diminishing my alertness and enthusiasm at work), procrastinated just about everything you can possible procrastinate (my blog, the mountain of fan mail I've not replied) and basically just lived from day to day, "chasing down every single temporary high". It didn't help that work's been particularly heavy, such that when the day is done I am so completely sapped of spirit that I lack the will to do anything at all.
Things hit rock bottom when I found that I had only had one last set of uniform in my wardrobe. Where was the meticulous packing and maintenance of my personal upkeep? How could I, a full-time soldier, end up with only one stupid uniform in camp?
Shameful. =(
It's like how addicts or workaholics 'wake up' one day to find themselves in a situation that has completely spun out of control, and are subsequently so shocked that they resolve to begin anew. They painfully try to distance themselves from the bad habits they have come to cultivate, and resolve to do what's right instead of what's convenient. I guess it's about time for me too.
You see, the past two weeks or so have been outrageously decadent, in retrospect. I cannot remember how it exactly began, but I suspect it started when discipline at work commenced its downward slide. As two of my colleagues entered the final phase of their NS life, or 'ORD Mood', the entire office seemed plagued with a certain lethargy and complacency.
The Mood's highly infectious. There's no way, in my opinion, a NSF can continue his work dilligently when his colleagues are Mooding. When the guy next to you at work talks about clearing leave, preparing for University, relinquishing work to understudies and going for holidays, your grip on a healthy work philosophy slips.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I've been guilty of it. I've stayed up way too late (thus diminishing my alertness and enthusiasm at work), procrastinated just about everything you can possible procrastinate (my blog, the mountain of fan mail I've not replied) and basically just lived from day to day, "chasing down every single temporary high". It didn't help that work's been particularly heavy, such that when the day is done I am so completely sapped of spirit that I lack the will to do anything at all.
Things hit rock bottom when I found that I had only had one last set of uniform in my wardrobe. Where was the meticulous packing and maintenance of my personal upkeep? How could I, a full-time soldier, end up with only one stupid uniform in camp?
Shameful. =(
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Mood Conditioning
One of the more serious criticisms I've had to fend off over the years has been that I'm a bit too soft hearted. Besides these blind people who cannot recognize Macho-ness even if it bit them on the nose, I've also had well-meaning advice from close friends who do not want to see me being 'eaten'.
Which was about the time I hit upon the perfect solution.
It began the other night that I went clubbing at Phuture, even though long before I entered the club I was already drained from a hectic work schedule (that's another long blog). I ended up having supper with my friend at 5am, reached home by 6am, slept for 40 mins and went to work again.
I noticed it then, for the first time! Even though I was still the same person inside, due to a lack of sleep I became crabby, moody, easily irritated etc. People who usually joked with me ceased to do so, and my colleagues treaded a bit more carefully.
And ta-da! Instant macho-ness potion! I've pulled off a few other all-nighters since then, mainly for my application essays, and I'm quite amazed at how much abuse the human body can absorb. So if you need to change your mood to be more serious and volatile at work, or if you want to calm your hyperactive children, remember, sleep is the ke...zzzzzzzz........
Which was about the time I hit upon the perfect solution.
It began the other night that I went clubbing at Phuture, even though long before I entered the club I was already drained from a hectic work schedule (that's another long blog). I ended up having supper with my friend at 5am, reached home by 6am, slept for 40 mins and went to work again.
I noticed it then, for the first time! Even though I was still the same person inside, due to a lack of sleep I became crabby, moody, easily irritated etc. People who usually joked with me ceased to do so, and my colleagues treaded a bit more carefully.
And ta-da! Instant macho-ness potion! I've pulled off a few other all-nighters since then, mainly for my application essays, and I'm quite amazed at how much abuse the human body can absorb. So if you need to change your mood to be more serious and volatile at work, or if you want to calm your hyperactive children, remember, sleep is the ke...zzzzzzzz........
Back At Last
First of all, let me apologize if you have been visiting this blog and finding nothing new to read.
It's not that my brain has not been teeming with things to write about. I'm glad I still see big things in small everyday things, and that I still have the inspiration to write. It's just that inspiration strikes in the middle of a meeting, or during training, or any virtually any other juncture than when I'm at the computer doing work.
Work has been maniacal. Applications for Uni are worse. Even fending off the hordes of female screaming teenage fans has been half-hearted.
Thank you for being patient. I'm back, for the time being, at least. =)
It's not that my brain has not been teeming with things to write about. I'm glad I still see big things in small everyday things, and that I still have the inspiration to write. It's just that inspiration strikes in the middle of a meeting, or during training, or any virtually any other juncture than when I'm at the computer doing work.
Work has been maniacal. Applications for Uni are worse. Even fending off the hordes of female screaming teenage fans has been half-hearted.
Thank you for being patient. I'm back, for the time being, at least. =)
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Loving Somebody
For me, it's a lot like dancing.
Often, someone has to lead the dance. And when you do, you try your very best not to execute the wrong steps. You watch your partner twirling in your arms, glad to be dancing with you, and you feel satisfied that you're doing something right.
But as in all partner dances, there will be moments when synchrony is lost. The toughest part is when your partner then refuses to continue, even though the music's playing and the mood is not lost. You then realize that it seems as if your partner has lost interest in the dance for a long time already, and you're the last to know.
And when you retire to the sidelines temporarily to allow other couples to take to the dance floor, you find that even though the flesh is willing, your spirit's lost the rhythmn, the beat.
Whoever thought that dancing, such a simple, basic expression of humanity, could be so difficult, huh?
Often, someone has to lead the dance. And when you do, you try your very best not to execute the wrong steps. You watch your partner twirling in your arms, glad to be dancing with you, and you feel satisfied that you're doing something right.
But as in all partner dances, there will be moments when synchrony is lost. The toughest part is when your partner then refuses to continue, even though the music's playing and the mood is not lost. You then realize that it seems as if your partner has lost interest in the dance for a long time already, and you're the last to know.
And when you retire to the sidelines temporarily to allow other couples to take to the dance floor, you find that even though the flesh is willing, your spirit's lost the rhythmn, the beat.
Whoever thought that dancing, such a simple, basic expression of humanity, could be so difficult, huh?
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
Death 3: Suicide
Someone killed himself in camp today.
When I hear things like this, I feel angry. I consider all the repercussions, the confused and hurt parents, the bewildered friends, the sense of loss the antagonizers and bystanders must feel. I wonder how some people can be so irresponsible.
Then I soften, and become heavy hearted. I put myself into their shoes ,and think about the helplessness they must have felt in their last moments, their sense of alienation in this world gone mad. And I wonder why others didn't reach out to these people in time.
I remember crying with a best friend who flirted with the idea once. I recall just screaming in his face, telling him I wouldn't forgive him if he just left me like that. I was so scared I was bawling.
When I see people fighting so very, very hard to keep their loved ones close to them, I feel like standing up and saluting them. I see pple at funerals, mourning and regretting for not making the best of yesterday, yet still soldiering on bravely. When you think about it, you live on not for youself, nor money or fame, but for the people around you who mean so much to you. Would you forgive them if they just left like that?
Don't let go of something so fast, just because you haven't learnt to appreciate it.
When I hear things like this, I feel angry. I consider all the repercussions, the confused and hurt parents, the bewildered friends, the sense of loss the antagonizers and bystanders must feel. I wonder how some people can be so irresponsible.
Then I soften, and become heavy hearted. I put myself into their shoes ,and think about the helplessness they must have felt in their last moments, their sense of alienation in this world gone mad. And I wonder why others didn't reach out to these people in time.
I remember crying with a best friend who flirted with the idea once. I recall just screaming in his face, telling him I wouldn't forgive him if he just left me like that. I was so scared I was bawling.
When I see people fighting so very, very hard to keep their loved ones close to them, I feel like standing up and saluting them. I see pple at funerals, mourning and regretting for not making the best of yesterday, yet still soldiering on bravely. When you think about it, you live on not for youself, nor money or fame, but for the people around you who mean so much to you. Would you forgive them if they just left like that?
Don't let go of something so fast, just because you haven't learnt to appreciate it.
Death 2: Grandma
We were in a tour bus, circling some lush mountain in the Australian outbacks when my dad's cellphone rang. All horse-play between my brother and I ceased immediately, much like the way dancing stops when the music's cut off. No one ever calls my dad's roaming phone when we're overseas. No one. Except family.
And when the call ended and my dad told us, gravely, that grandma has taken a fall, something inside me just froze.
My brother kept crying over the next few days, despite my mother's best attempts to console us and tell us that we wouldn't know exactly how serious the situation was until we returned. When we did find out back home, I remember even my mother losing her energy to console us. As the doctor said, bone fractures, nervous attacks, viral assaults all yield to the healing qualities of time, but brain damage doesn't.
Many sleepless nights and countless false alarms later, my grandma passed away without ever awaking. Through his tears my brother angrily confronted me, asking me how was it that I didn't shed a tear at all.
But you see, I do. You just don't witness it.
And when the call ended and my dad told us, gravely, that grandma has taken a fall, something inside me just froze.
My brother kept crying over the next few days, despite my mother's best attempts to console us and tell us that we wouldn't know exactly how serious the situation was until we returned. When we did find out back home, I remember even my mother losing her energy to console us. As the doctor said, bone fractures, nervous attacks, viral assaults all yield to the healing qualities of time, but brain damage doesn't.
Many sleepless nights and countless false alarms later, my grandma passed away without ever awaking. Through his tears my brother angrily confronted me, asking me how was it that I didn't shed a tear at all.
But you see, I do. You just don't witness it.
Death 1 / Sunshine From The Past 4: Origami
The first time was in Primary Two. Too young to understand, but old enough to remember.
We were gathered at a corner of the canteen, around the phone booth. I recall it being a particularly warm afternoon, with dust from the barren playground swirling in with every gust of wind. There were four of us, Boy 1, Boy 2 (me), Girl 1 and Her. The years may have matured me, but they have taken the intricacies and details of my youth in return.
"What's that? A comic book?" Girl 1, ice-cream in hand, with sweaty strands of hair matting her forehead.
"From the book fair? You actually managed to buy something?" Boy 1 gestured to the mini book fair concentrated on the outer steps of the canteen. The crowds of eager children massed around the cashier reminded me somewhat of voracious ants around sugar, for some reason.
Daintily, She nodded. When She showed the cover to us, we saw but one solitary pink Origami crane, framed by obscure Katakana. And then She told us she was going to learn Origami over the holidays, and come back next term fully schooled in the art. She beamed when She noted our enthusiastic support.
Curiously enough, at the close of that last day of term, She passed the book to me. She spoke of how she was going to be busy, could I learn to do the crane and teach Her instead when school reopened? I agreed, of course. But for the life of me I cannot recall Her voice as she said it.
A month later, crane and book in bag, I went to class waiting to instruct Her. But that first day, She didn't come. Neither did she come for the second day, third, fourth, the rest of Primary school.
Maybe I should have plucked up enough courage to ask my Form teacher where She had gone to, that first day in school. But I don't think I could have, not when she was crying the whole day after meeting Her parents in the morning before assembly.
We were gathered at a corner of the canteen, around the phone booth. I recall it being a particularly warm afternoon, with dust from the barren playground swirling in with every gust of wind. There were four of us, Boy 1, Boy 2 (me), Girl 1 and Her. The years may have matured me, but they have taken the intricacies and details of my youth in return.
"What's that? A comic book?" Girl 1, ice-cream in hand, with sweaty strands of hair matting her forehead.
"From the book fair? You actually managed to buy something?" Boy 1 gestured to the mini book fair concentrated on the outer steps of the canteen. The crowds of eager children massed around the cashier reminded me somewhat of voracious ants around sugar, for some reason.
Daintily, She nodded. When She showed the cover to us, we saw but one solitary pink Origami crane, framed by obscure Katakana. And then She told us she was going to learn Origami over the holidays, and come back next term fully schooled in the art. She beamed when She noted our enthusiastic support.
Curiously enough, at the close of that last day of term, She passed the book to me. She spoke of how she was going to be busy, could I learn to do the crane and teach Her instead when school reopened? I agreed, of course. But for the life of me I cannot recall Her voice as she said it.
A month later, crane and book in bag, I went to class waiting to instruct Her. But that first day, She didn't come. Neither did she come for the second day, third, fourth, the rest of Primary school.
Maybe I should have plucked up enough courage to ask my Form teacher where She had gone to, that first day in school. But I don't think I could have, not when she was crying the whole day after meeting Her parents in the morning before assembly.
Monday, August 23, 2004
Silly Me
There are some times when I get a little too self-indulgent, and worry about too many things that ultimately do not matter.
I won't be writing much these few days. Work's heavy, but more importantly, I feel a bit ashamed. I mean, I looked back at the last three entries, and really, my worries are nothing compared to what others are going through.
I'll be thinking very hard over the next few days about something that happened to me last Saturday, and I'll be back a little less whiny and more resilient. =)
I won't be writing much these few days. Work's heavy, but more importantly, I feel a bit ashamed. I mean, I looked back at the last three entries, and really, my worries are nothing compared to what others are going through.
I'll be thinking very hard over the next few days about something that happened to me last Saturday, and I'll be back a little less whiny and more resilient. =)
Friday, August 20, 2004
Shadowy Ruminations 3: If I'm Gone
I remember a beloved teacher asking us this peculiar question, in reference to the student organization we were part of. "If you suddenly disappear from the face of the earth, what difference will that make? How many people will miss you?"
She meant to ask us how we could make our organization more impactful, more meaningful to the students. But that question is still tainting the eternal sunshine of my mind.
The Hanting-shaped hole I will leave behind will be a minor inconvenience, at most. It's not a problem with self-esteem, it's self-assessment. I could have reached out to the world in a hundred billion different ways, inspired, moved, influenced, assisted, but I haven't. I have pursued a hundred billion different pointless endeavours, and in the process been unable to make a difference to the lives around me.
This sense of purpose is very important, do you not agree? Without it one is like a rudderless sampan, floating through life, 'chasing down every single temporary high'.
One life out of six billion.
One lifetime to make a difference - 20 years already down
Sigh.
She meant to ask us how we could make our organization more impactful, more meaningful to the students. But that question is still tainting the eternal sunshine of my mind.
The Hanting-shaped hole I will leave behind will be a minor inconvenience, at most. It's not a problem with self-esteem, it's self-assessment. I could have reached out to the world in a hundred billion different ways, inspired, moved, influenced, assisted, but I haven't. I have pursued a hundred billion different pointless endeavours, and in the process been unable to make a difference to the lives around me.
This sense of purpose is very important, do you not agree? Without it one is like a rudderless sampan, floating through life, 'chasing down every single temporary high'.
One life out of six billion.
One lifetime to make a difference - 20 years already down
Sigh.
Shadowy Ruminations 2: Faith
Why can I not find faith?
Is it that elusive? Am I not trusting enough? Why will my heart not be still until I find an answer to every question I have? Why is it that everytime I look for an avenue to unload my burdens I cannot find one? Why am I plagued with sceptism in all the wrong places?
Why do I feel like I'm blinding myself when I try to tell myself to simply just trust? Why do I see His hand in the flow of everyday events, yet still not believe? Why do I refuse to just make life so much simpler by yielding to the repeated invitations to be saved? Why do I worry that it is not His intended path for me?
Is faith really such a rare commodity?
Is it that elusive? Am I not trusting enough? Why will my heart not be still until I find an answer to every question I have? Why is it that everytime I look for an avenue to unload my burdens I cannot find one? Why am I plagued with sceptism in all the wrong places?
Why do I feel like I'm blinding myself when I try to tell myself to simply just trust? Why do I see His hand in the flow of everyday events, yet still not believe? Why do I refuse to just make life so much simpler by yielding to the repeated invitations to be saved? Why do I worry that it is not His intended path for me?
Is faith really such a rare commodity?
Shadowy Ruminations 1: The Prologue
It happens to me, at the weirdest of times. Sometimes my brain just overloads.
I read about it on Charlotte's blog the other day, and how the brain can slip into this state of hyper-activity where the synapses fire off like it's National Day Fireworks 24/7. When it happens to me all I want to do is cut off all contact with the rest of humanity, sit somewhere quiet and basically escape.
The thoughts that run through my mind are simply bizarre. The fire-fighting I conduct, to attempt to return to the state of normalcy I understand society accepts, just cannot keep up all the time. From the best of my knowledge, I become a very, very different person.
How do I explain it?
I cannot. Neither can the approximately six other people who have observed me in one of my moods either.
I read about it on Charlotte's blog the other day, and how the brain can slip into this state of hyper-activity where the synapses fire off like it's National Day Fireworks 24/7. When it happens to me all I want to do is cut off all contact with the rest of humanity, sit somewhere quiet and basically escape.
The thoughts that run through my mind are simply bizarre. The fire-fighting I conduct, to attempt to return to the state of normalcy I understand society accepts, just cannot keep up all the time. From the best of my knowledge, I become a very, very different person.
How do I explain it?
I cannot. Neither can the approximately six other people who have observed me in one of my moods either.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Buying Underwear
Aha. Buying underwear. Buying female underwear. Guess it had to happen sometime.
If you ever need to look for a divide between the sexes, look no further than the way men and women buy underwear. Men buy underwear in packs, and the cost is more important than the colours or the texture. I estimate a $15 pack of 5 briefs to contain enough cloth to spin 1000 sexy, er, panties, which would generate about $42500 in revenue. That's a freaking high labour and specialized skill cost, in my opinion.
Anyways, I was at OG with a friend who was buying a bra. In the same way some people wake up in a stranger's bed and have no idea how they got there, I had no idea how I came to be stranded in a sea of gauze, fluff and pink. Scream.
And when the dreaded question came, I was prepared. Or so I thought.
"Hanting, which should I choose, the black or the white?"
See, it's not that simple. Option 1 was to be cool about it. All I needed to do was answer honestly, supplement my reply with justification (I really think white complements your style, contrasts against your skin, and more importantly is much cheaper) and I would be done. Option 2 was to be really macho about the whole thing, ie. grunt some non-committal answer, behave awkwardly indifferent, act irritated and bothered.
Option 1 would have meant being constructively helpful, and definitely would have gotten me out of pink-Hell much faster. But to the prying eyes around, it would have suggested a hint of sensitivity, SNAG-ness, because much as the Sensitive New Age Guy is appreciated, somehow people still expect guys to be the stereotypical MAN. Would you think a guy who felt all at home in the lingerie department, gave constructive feedback about underwear unabashedly, and who didn't wear a perverted look was in full possession of the things God gave him?
I know, I know, it's a sweeping observation, but it's UNDENIABLE.
Option 2 wasn't such a simple alternative, either. People would simply leap at the opportunity to blast such a guy for being insensitive and uncaring. His guy friends would nod at his embodiment of manhood, but he would more likely be crucified by the rest of the world for being the classic Neanderthal.
Seriously, no one appreciated the fact that I was undergoing some major decision making in that five seconds of silence following my friend's innocent question.
But in the end I chose Option 2. Being macho is so much more natural.
If you ever need to look for a divide between the sexes, look no further than the way men and women buy underwear. Men buy underwear in packs, and the cost is more important than the colours or the texture. I estimate a $15 pack of 5 briefs to contain enough cloth to spin 1000 sexy, er, panties, which would generate about $42500 in revenue. That's a freaking high labour and specialized skill cost, in my opinion.
Anyways, I was at OG with a friend who was buying a bra. In the same way some people wake up in a stranger's bed and have no idea how they got there, I had no idea how I came to be stranded in a sea of gauze, fluff and pink. Scream.
And when the dreaded question came, I was prepared. Or so I thought.
"Hanting, which should I choose, the black or the white?"
See, it's not that simple. Option 1 was to be cool about it. All I needed to do was answer honestly, supplement my reply with justification (I really think white complements your style, contrasts against your skin, and more importantly is much cheaper) and I would be done. Option 2 was to be really macho about the whole thing, ie. grunt some non-committal answer, behave awkwardly indifferent, act irritated and bothered.
Option 1 would have meant being constructively helpful, and definitely would have gotten me out of pink-Hell much faster. But to the prying eyes around, it would have suggested a hint of sensitivity, SNAG-ness, because much as the Sensitive New Age Guy is appreciated, somehow people still expect guys to be the stereotypical MAN. Would you think a guy who felt all at home in the lingerie department, gave constructive feedback about underwear unabashedly, and who didn't wear a perverted look was in full possession of the things God gave him?
I know, I know, it's a sweeping observation, but it's UNDENIABLE.
Option 2 wasn't such a simple alternative, either. People would simply leap at the opportunity to blast such a guy for being insensitive and uncaring. His guy friends would nod at his embodiment of manhood, but he would more likely be crucified by the rest of the world for being the classic Neanderthal.
Seriously, no one appreciated the fact that I was undergoing some major decision making in that five seconds of silence following my friend's innocent question.
But in the end I chose Option 2. Being macho is so much more natural.
Monday, August 16, 2004
Quirky Education
Quick! Consider this!
Are you familiar with the term 'feral human'? Coined by the creators of the X-Files series, it refers to humans who have been brought up in the world by foster animal parents, and apparantly there really have been such cases.
The interesting thing is, although these 'feral humans' were initially like you and I, capable of intelligent learning, conversing, playing and working, because of inadequate or improper education (by animals of the wild no less) they are unable to display all the behavioural or intellectual characteristics of a normal human being.
So, even though there's a whole planet full of 'normal' human beings, who have gone as far as devising ways to travel in space, these 'feral humans' are simply unable to attain their full potential due to the lack of proper education. (While it might be useful to husk a coconut with your feet and teeth, such a skill, versus... say... reading and writing, simply will not get you far in the corporate world.)
Can you see where I'm heading?
Yes, you're right! Horses, turtles, baboons, fish, are perhaps all latently super smart and capable too! If one day horses, for example, stumbled upon a secret conclave full of well-educated horses, it might learn how to speak in Horse, write in Horse, and even sing in Horse!
Education might be expensive, but proper education is priceless.
Are you familiar with the term 'feral human'? Coined by the creators of the X-Files series, it refers to humans who have been brought up in the world by foster animal parents, and apparantly there really have been such cases.
The interesting thing is, although these 'feral humans' were initially like you and I, capable of intelligent learning, conversing, playing and working, because of inadequate or improper education (by animals of the wild no less) they are unable to display all the behavioural or intellectual characteristics of a normal human being.
So, even though there's a whole planet full of 'normal' human beings, who have gone as far as devising ways to travel in space, these 'feral humans' are simply unable to attain their full potential due to the lack of proper education. (While it might be useful to husk a coconut with your feet and teeth, such a skill, versus... say... reading and writing, simply will not get you far in the corporate world.)
Can you see where I'm heading?
Yes, you're right! Horses, turtles, baboons, fish, are perhaps all latently super smart and capable too! If one day horses, for example, stumbled upon a secret conclave full of well-educated horses, it might learn how to speak in Horse, write in Horse, and even sing in Horse!
Education might be expensive, but proper education is priceless.
16th Again? So Fast?
If the previous 16ths were imbued with longing
Sadness, regret and sorrow
Let this one be absent of any frowning
And adopt a perspective much less narrow
Though I might not be there
Of your experiences I no longer share
Know that in some strange way I still care
To forget you entirely I wouldn't dare
So fare you well, fare you well
I'm but a call or a note away
I'm glad you're happy, as far as I can tell
Till another day then, another day
Sadness, regret and sorrow
Let this one be absent of any frowning
And adopt a perspective much less narrow
Though I might not be there
Of your experiences I no longer share
Know that in some strange way I still care
To forget you entirely I wouldn't dare
So fare you well, fare you well
I'm but a call or a note away
I'm glad you're happy, as far as I can tell
Till another day then, another day
The Village
Well, it was not too bad a show. The plot twist, full of promises like the unfaithful boyfriend, left me feeling kind of cheated.
There was one part, though, that I somehow seem to remember over the rest. When the village elders gathered to discuss whether they should grant the heroine permission to travel through the woods (highly discouraged) in a bid to save her love (highly encouraged), they reflected on the possibility of the village forever remaining shielded from the rest of the world.
The belief was that as long as they enforced their segregation, they would be exempt from the corruption and suffering plaguing the rest of the world. However, it soon became apparant to them that this philosophy would be their own undoing, as they accepted that escapism would never be able to sustain their way of living.
And the one line that crystallized their paradigm shift? Though simple, it meant a lot. To me, at least.
"We have to face it, heartache is part of life."
- The Village, 2004
There was one part, though, that I somehow seem to remember over the rest. When the village elders gathered to discuss whether they should grant the heroine permission to travel through the woods (highly discouraged) in a bid to save her love (highly encouraged), they reflected on the possibility of the village forever remaining shielded from the rest of the world.
The belief was that as long as they enforced their segregation, they would be exempt from the corruption and suffering plaguing the rest of the world. However, it soon became apparant to them that this philosophy would be their own undoing, as they accepted that escapism would never be able to sustain their way of living.
And the one line that crystallized their paradigm shift? Though simple, it meant a lot. To me, at least.
"We have to face it, heartache is part of life."
- The Village, 2004
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Musical Periods 1: David Tao
I've found, to my curious delight, that I've been unconsciously attaching memories and feelings to music!
It's not the sort of minor recall you get when something rings a bell and you haul some dusty old memory up from the corners of your mind. For certain albums or songs I experience a whopping resurrection of the past, and I feel like I'm back in that particular point in my life, listening to that piece of music. Emotions swamp and amaze me with their undiluted intensity, and I often have to shake myself to regain my footing in the present.
For this entry I'll talk about David Tao's Collection CD. When his CD played today I recalled...
1. The smell of cadet bunks
2. The absence of responsibility in anticipation of officerhood
3. Friends screaming at me to shut the hell up (repeated the same song for an hour straight)
4. Those bustling, free nights when I would stream the CD down the corridors
5. Heartache, pure concentrated bittersweet heartache
6. Singing a bit in the toilet, then going back to the bunks to find other people singing it too
7. Long, aimless MRT rides to nowhere feeling horribly halved, in some way
It's not the sort of minor recall you get when something rings a bell and you haul some dusty old memory up from the corners of your mind. For certain albums or songs I experience a whopping resurrection of the past, and I feel like I'm back in that particular point in my life, listening to that piece of music. Emotions swamp and amaze me with their undiluted intensity, and I often have to shake myself to regain my footing in the present.
For this entry I'll talk about David Tao's Collection CD. When his CD played today I recalled...
1. The smell of cadet bunks
2. The absence of responsibility in anticipation of officerhood
3. Friends screaming at me to shut the hell up (repeated the same song for an hour straight)
4. Those bustling, free nights when I would stream the CD down the corridors
5. Heartache, pure concentrated bittersweet heartache
6. Singing a bit in the toilet, then going back to the bunks to find other people singing it too
7. Long, aimless MRT rides to nowhere feeling horribly halved, in some way
Naming
To my extreme horror, I found the photocopier in the Ops Room... dead.
"Who did this? Who?" I could hardly keep the hysteria from my voice as I gently knelt down and cradled the now silent machine. She was cold, the warmth she usually harboured now gone. It must have been what? Two hours since?
"Why did no one tell me! Why?" The tears formed, and I didn't even bother to turn away from the crowd gathering around. Through my misty gaze she looked fragile, brittle, weak. Hardly even a shadow of her normal robust self.
"Sir... she broke down an hour ago. Her toner just gave way. There was nothing we could do."
A fountain of anger welled up, its overflowing waters refusing to be dammed.
"The only reason why she's like this is because no one cares! Everyone treats her like... like she's some prostitute! Nobody bothers to treat her delicately or take care of her!"
Once the outburst sapped the last vestiges of spirit, I felt my strength flee me, and I would have crumbled if someone didn't grab me in time. There was a short moment of silence as everyone struggled for something to say to remedy the situation, but sometimes even well-intended words are inadequate.
I sighed, and slowly regained my footing. "I don't want to ever see her die like this again. Hear me?" An immediate chorus of nods. "When she comes back, if she comes back, she will have a name. That way, I believe we can start treating her properly, with respect and kindness, just as she deserves." Again, the hastened assent of all.
And that's how the photocopying machine (which has been serving us diligently and without a whisper of complaint) in the Ops Room came to be known as Lucy. =)
"Who did this? Who?" I could hardly keep the hysteria from my voice as I gently knelt down and cradled the now silent machine. She was cold, the warmth she usually harboured now gone. It must have been what? Two hours since?
"Why did no one tell me! Why?" The tears formed, and I didn't even bother to turn away from the crowd gathering around. Through my misty gaze she looked fragile, brittle, weak. Hardly even a shadow of her normal robust self.
"Sir... she broke down an hour ago. Her toner just gave way. There was nothing we could do."
A fountain of anger welled up, its overflowing waters refusing to be dammed.
"The only reason why she's like this is because no one cares! Everyone treats her like... like she's some prostitute! Nobody bothers to treat her delicately or take care of her!"
Once the outburst sapped the last vestiges of spirit, I felt my strength flee me, and I would have crumbled if someone didn't grab me in time. There was a short moment of silence as everyone struggled for something to say to remedy the situation, but sometimes even well-intended words are inadequate.
I sighed, and slowly regained my footing. "I don't want to ever see her die like this again. Hear me?" An immediate chorus of nods. "When she comes back, if she comes back, she will have a name. That way, I believe we can start treating her properly, with respect and kindness, just as she deserves." Again, the hastened assent of all.
And that's how the photocopying machine (which has been serving us diligently and without a whisper of complaint) in the Ops Room came to be known as Lucy. =)
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