::Advent Summoner::

2005-06-25T00:50:00.000+08:00

We had fun at the office, had quite a bit of work and the boss seemed to like my slides. More importantly, I got home in time for dinner, hurray!
A lot has been going on, ASES Summit is work-in-progress, but lots of things are being rapidly settled. I have faith we'll have fun, I'm already learning a lot. It was a temperamental kind of day, one moment warm, the next cold and wet. At the same time it was fun, watching the sunlight filter through the slats, beaming that slight tinge of lemon at the end of a good weep.

For the company cat *gurgles like a baby*.

Franklinstein (Monochrome Moment)

Wound up tight on its hunches, ready for flight,
deciding,
Gray on white,
Tension, intelligence, instinct,
caught in a monochrome moment.
Someone said you are evil,
That sublime tilt of your head catches me,
I wonder.

But your expression changes as it encounters mine,
The eyes slowly growing softer, rounder with wonder.
Its pure trickery, perhaps,
so when your claws get caught in my skin,
draw blood on my clothes
Franklin, little angelic devil,
I’d forgive you anyway.

2005-06-22T08:00:00.000+08:00

An Antagonist is Me!

Somehow I find this week getting darker by the day. The anger is balling up inside of me, taking the form of a big black lump of despair. Threatening to envelop me. To unleash that monster that resides in all of us.

I desist.

Self-containment figures a lot in this. I'd like to drown right now, in an ocean of aquamarine. My old, morbid thoughts have resurfaced; Really, I'd be surprised if they stayed dead. But I think I'll just live and let be. Eventually everything will blow over, I just need to sort my head out, and keep quiet and low profile in the meantime. Don is right, I need rest, that elusive creature.

Speaking of which, I've talked to Don practically everyday recently: he's been a good sport to put up with me. It's good to have you home, dear! Hurray for you, and thanks for the blouses!

2005-05-25T00:19:00.000+08:00

Ever so once in awhile, bad things that happen becomes my liquor of silence: a pool for me to drown my sorrows in, until I lose all ability to articulate what I feel, what I think, what I want. and lose all ability to speak. Crying mutely in some small ball inside, living my life indifferently on the outside.
The world isn't about me after all. There is a bigger picture, much greater things to come. I smile as a way of showing, I don't want to fight, I want peace amidst the chaos. Old lyrics from a song. Sometimes it is that leaden heaviness that prevents the pain from seeping in.

But inside my head, I cry as I walk myself out to sea in a give-all embrace. In the end I'm either damming everything inside or preventing it all from coming inside. The only way may be to surrender to the forces of gravity and time and God and let myself be washed away till even the grains of sand on the shore forget I ever stood there.

2005-05-10T18:59:00.000+08:00

Back From The Expedition

I've lost my earring again!

There is something about me and jewellery: they must really hate me because they seem to spend every moment they can plotting to run away from me, and when I find ways to keep them on me, they revolt by giving me rashes. Unfortunately I love them. This is one of those relationships that you know will come to no good end.

This time it was my topaz earrings I bought for Christmas. True it wasn't very expensive, but it was still blue and happy and shiny...
...Alright, I'm bordering on sounding like a crow now.

Well, there was the good and the bad with the expedition. The good thing is I was very at home there. So at home I almost settled down with a dog and three kids. To my parents' relief I decided against it since I didn't have money for the dog.
I also did manual labour. And laughed a lot. And I had lots of nature, which made me feel absurdly hummy-hum kind of happy. Of course there were moments of frustration but flip-flop it was a minority slice of the major pie. "Think open, think open," as Lavinia once wrote in my script.

Today itself is a grey day awash with lambasts from my dad (who's been picking on me again) and groans of lingering sadness from the wind, whipping the curtains about. Sometimes I feel like I could take off and fly into the wind, but I remain, as ever, firmly rooted by my mortal responsibilities.

2004-12-22T14:56:00.000+08:00

I now present to my most revered readers a chapter by chapter report on my Compartmentalization 2004, complete with appropriate headings and footnotes. I will try to keep it as objective, clinical, precise and concise as possible (although I will make no promises about my dry humour or lame attempts thereof). Feel free to comment in my tagboard and respond in kind.

Pain (Chapter 1)

I had an attack today.

One of my greatest lessons learnt was my capacity for pain and how I deal with it in different situations. Observe the careful way I handle it (gloves, tongs, mask, cage with one-way door, Cisco security) when it is my own. Observe my careful documentation (precisely marked charts and figures, I even know the precise cycle of my pain). And even my ability to differentiate what will potentially be a cause, actions to take and foreseeable consequences (with some friends I will never share, with some others I will inevitably whine. I have aggregated my friends into the different kinds of response they provide, hence saving me the burden of trial and error).
When I was still in the early stages of this whole "event", I simply told my friend that I wanted to give up, simply to save myself the pain. She answered,

"Women always say that, but eventually we will do something that will cause ourselves pain again. You can't avoid being hurt. But we are also a lot stronger than we think: we get hurt, but we also have a strong ability to recover."

And so I pressed on. The effect of which was that I made discoveries about myself, about my capacity to feel when I thought myself no longer capable of it: to experience additional pain, and yet persist, leading to more pain.

In October this year, I was shopping with my mother at Mango in Tampines just after lunch, when an acute pain shot through my chest, the centre of which seemed to be my heart: it pierced like a needle going through the centre of my heart and seared like an acid burn, causing immense pain. I didn't want to alarm my mother and kept on walking silently. All too soon it became unbearable and I was forced to sit down as the pain grew and all sounds were blocked out. I measured out my breath in eight counts, and staring at the cold, shiny, white tiles, forced myself to relax. At that moment, it suddenly hit me that I might die. I closed my eyes and waited for it to come.

But I didn't die that day. The attack went away after 5 minutes, and I was able to go on again, as if nothing happened.

Today I had another attack, a much milder one: so mild, in fact, I kept on watching TV while I counted out my breaths. Somehow it seems increasingly wrong to me to express pain to the outside world. I would like to smile and go on with what I do. To politely refuse my own emotions existence. To bravely surge forth with my head held high when inside I am crumbling with the weight of pain. Is it pride or foolishness?

But at the least, my foolishness has led me to many experiences, many lessons, to meet and love new people. I open myself to hurt, undoubtedly, but also, to this brave new world. That I might not be the John in Huxley's classic (one of my favourite books), but a fully instituted and knowing Miranda, who exclaims in "The Tempest",

"O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world
That has such people in't!"

My latest, and last choice coincides with a careful deliberation of my priorities. In the end, I cannot compromise the happiness or freedom of another person, just to get my way. I accordingly chose to be hurt. I felt no reason to escape it. Life is a package trip with no manual that you get upon arrival, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't make the best of it.

Meanwhile, cause of action decided is, as I told my friend "to move on with as little emotional baggage as possible". I shall laugh and pretend nothing ever happened. It will take time no doubt, but I have absolute conviction that I am doing the right thing, and never to waver, come what may: the pain only serves to remind me to maintain the strength of my resolution.

The only way it could end otherwise is if I manage to get amnesia without killing myself. I almost wish it would happen.

2004-12-20T02:02:00.000+08:00

Beautiful

I went to Rhea's wedding at the stately Raffles Hotel today: I ran into Charmaine and Melissa, two Seniors from school, in front of the East India ballroom where we waited for the solemnization to take place. There were wooden side tables scattered around, with candles and flowers. The guests mingled in small, close groups.
"Those ladies over there, they're Rhea's sisters aren't they?"
I looked over and realized the ladies at the reception did look exceptionally like her (as usual, I was too clued out when i handed the wedding gifts, a pair of Laura Ashley champagne flutes from Ben and I, to them). Charmaine and Melissa also directed me to the photo album and I leafed through. Inside were images of dreams captured in an instant. One that struck me was of Rhea gazing out into space, as if dreaming: like an image from a fairytale, how whimsical and beautiful!

At that moment, Peter's voice came on, and announced the beginning of the solemnization which (I found out later) was conducted by the Justice of Peace. I am still a young lamb who has yet to be initiated in the ways of the world: but I was awed by the love overflowing. The goodwill from everyone, the quiet Christmas air, the carefully constructed paradise as the night fell in that beautiful courtyard, and of course the couple's obvious love for each other, so aptly expressed by the theme "Blessed Union of Souls".

The moment the doors of the ballroom opened, there was a heady scent of the bouquets of white roses and lilies that were set in wreathes around candles at each table. Ford, Eric, Charmaine, Melissa and I found our places next to each other, and spent the rest of the night talking. Once, Ford, Eric and I caught ourselves talking about work, and we went outside to finish our conversation. I knew they wanted to extract information from me, but it was merely personal and harmless information: proposals to what changes they needed to make immediately to secure student confidence. There was still a hint of bitterness, a hint of disillusionment, maybe even a hint of ruthlessness, but also a burning will belied by their calm nonchalance.

At the end of the night, I managed to hug Rhea and give a few words to her, affectionately expressing my hope that we could have tea together when she returned from KL. I had earlier in the day written an email to her, already wishing her the best. Charmaine and Melissa who had already talked to her, waited for me a little, and the three of us walked out to the porch. I bade them both goodbye and merry Christmas, then strode out into the night, filled with the incense of frangipanis in full bloom, and yellow lights dangling from the branches as my curtain. Back into the streets, the onslaught of cars, the press of crowds, the pollution, the hard lines of the city. Smiling at the tiny, delicate wreath in a box that was our takeaway from the wedding.

I wonder what 2005 has in store for me.

2004-12-19T01:13:00.000+08:00

The Summoner's Dream

It was a huge warehouse. All I remember was that there was a massive game going on to hunt out the civilians and kill them. They were playing games with us: Driving us to pure mental hell. The sounds of killing all around us, and all over this warehouse was these huge flat screens, with a player in the front. The only way to drown out all the sounds of people dying was to switch on the TV and the player and get immersed in the show. And the show was always on, always playing. It sucked out all the pain and torture, it made you forget. But it also made you an easy target: alerted them to where you were. Still you couldn't resist: How could you?

I remember starting out in my house, my mother was lying on the bed, heavy with child. She was in pain, but also smiling, and I smiled at her, held her hand. She handed me a phone and showed me pictures on it: of her and my youngest sister hugging tight together. Mum in a black one piece swimsuit, Letitia in a pink swimsuit with pink floats. They were sitting in the middle of a lagoon with a sandy bottom, and clean turquoise waters that darkened into azure, speckled with black rocks like islands far away. The sunlight shone in spiked, clean rays to the left of the picture, just out of sight in a deep blue sky.

Paradise.

Then the war started. I bolted the door behind me, hugged my mother and quietly swore my life on protecting her and the baby. (The next part is a blank, something bloody happened, but I saved them. Maybe I died and reincarnated. I couldn't tell.)

When I woke up, Wynne and I were lying face down in another part of the warehouse. I woke and saw bodies around us: Instinctively I shielded my sister's eyes with my arm and guided her out of the room. The next room had a television. We couldn't resist. We switched it on, and hid behind some huge cartons. And slowly we lost our senses, curled up like foetuses to each other, being slowly suffocated and drowning in the show. We could hear them coming, but we couldn't move...

I guess we died, because that's where my dream ended. I woke up with a start, gasping for air: my eyes still convulsing in their sockets, the smell of blood still in my mouth, my mind still coiled in disbelief that I wasn't in the war game.

I ran down from my upper bunk: but as expected of a Saturday, Mum and Dad were out at the new house, Letitia was at her creche, and Wynne was sprawled out on the lower bunk. The house was silent. I sat down, pulling my soul back from the other realm, grateful for the peace I am blessed with and the chance to be still alive.

"A dream has power to poison sleep" - PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

2004-12-16T01:02:00.000+08:00

Shiroi No (The White)

The day wasn't all bad though. God rewarded me with my weekly Japanese class with Yan-sensei: a chain smoking old man who sports a toupee and malformed checked shirts, and reminisces about his days in Japan: almost like a Murakami character. There's something about Sensei that grabs my loyalty and it helps he teaches well (although slowly).

I sang softly to myself on the way home: my body felt strangely light, like it was a toy plane that at any moment would be carelessly carried away by the wind. It strikes me how very small I am...

Meanwhile, compartmentalization has come along nicely. I wonder what it is that has made it all happen: the sunlight, the mundaneness, the quietness, the simplicity of each day? I feel exquisitely happy. As my mental spring-cleaning proceeds, I presently exist in complete dissociation of all outside events and emotions, except being somewhat liberated not talking to anyone for a few days: as if I finally didn't have to explain anything, as if I almost don't exist. If I could, it would be just nice now to sail off into the blue oblivion and disappear.

And maybe... just maybe i'll make it back in time to Earth in time for tea.

2004-12-15T23:52:00.000+08:00

My dad's been at it again.

The day started off well enough, except Wynne was giving me a lot of attitude over my using the Internet. Professedly I'm a boring person, but I hardly do anything online except for checking emails and research, despite parking unabashedly there. The latest addition to my nucleus of Internet activities is blogging. And that only when I feel like it.
Wynne, however, was nagging me to get off because she was bored and wanted to chat with her friends and play games. I calmly told her I had work and she kicked up a tantrum (the controlled kind. "Fine..." *march march march* "Go ahead..." *march march march*. Wash, rinse, repeat). I eventually gave up, let her amoeba the laptop, and went to nap.

Lo and behold, I was rudely awoken by World War 3. The Mad Chinaman himself (and I don't mean Dick Lee) was Educating Ignorant Masses on Abuse of Communicating Devices (i.e. busting handphone bill). Brash Hawaiian Cream Puff was trying to Assert her Rights as stated in the Human Rights Charter. Mad Chinaman then decided to remove Communicating Device from possession of Cream Puff, as well as demand repayment for Costs Incurred, resulting in a messy and emotional screaming match.

I calmly got out of bed... and got hit by the firing squad the moment I walked out. You're evil, you're stupid, you're useless, you're a liar, etc.
Well, I opted for complete silence for the rest of the day. Not because it was safer, but there was no cause in participating in a war of words. Any contribution would have been fuel to fire to a man who sees it as "him against the world". Blame is a monster which eats anything it can get its hands on and grows.

I analyzed it, but couldn't pull myself to any point of view: too bad, they were both at fault. I didn't like my baby being screamed at, but I knew she deserved it for her frivolity.

"There is no satisfaction in hanging a man who does not object to it" - GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

2004-12-15T01:19:00.000+08:00

Muse

My new home is chock full of contradictions: it is almost completely inaccessible and yet completely accessible (only one bus runs by it, but it goes from one end of the island to the other), it is a new building in an old district, a cauldron of wealth tampered by the restraint of historical poverty, full of the lack of memories.

Today I hung out at Bugis ("again!" you exclaim. But while Singapore lacks variety, it makes up for in soothing constance. I respect both novelty and tradition, and require both in equal portions). Of course, this time, with a different companion: Marcus - a close friend from NY, who happened to join SMU this year. He mentioned at tea time that Mr John Lim passed away.

John Lim, FYI, was one of the PE tutors at NY... not that I knew the guy personally, but it came as a shock nonetheless. Memories came flooding back. How transient life is! Like a membrane: One prick and it rips apart.

I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of thoughts, and it gets darker, the further in I go.
I feel like an anasthesized butterfly with one wing removed: Something important, something essential is missing, but it hasn't hit me what yet.
Keep thinking, keep drowning, keep experiencing, until I feel nothing. My emotions are soup. Too many things have been happening recently.
But at least I know what I need. I need to sort my organs out. I need a good, long sleep.
A few more days...

"In the long run, we're all dead." - JOHN MAYNARD KEYNES

2004-12-12T22:52:00.000+08:00

Suspended

After four days and three friends over two dinners and one afternoon coffee, I do feel my regular self again. I found myself for the longest time ever not thinking about "that". And as to what "that" is, only my close friends will know. I have dissected and analyzed and compartmentalised, I have emoted and denied and whined and mulled over it: In other words, I have gone through every single emotion and phase possible, except laughing over it, which I know will soon follow.

I finally had the good fortune of meeting Weng over dinner, and we spent three hours in one of those boardgame-cafes, eating average a la carte, fantastic dessert, talking about our past loves, pet peeves and...

... strategizing how to win the games. After a mediocre score of -3 and -20 (he won, as the waiter kindly put "by losing the least"), I announced, "You know, we could cooperate and maximise our points. Just like free trade!" The next round I won, and our scores were 80, 75. Just as we started our third round, he smiled, "Are we adopting the same strategy?" "Of course!" and he took the final round with his 177 over my 150. As we paid the bill (both in fits of laughter), the waiter smiled and asked who won. Weng paused and replied, "Well, I wouldn't technically say anyone won when we cheated." I smiled amiably, "Against the system but not against each other to maximise your score! Face it, it works." Oh the wonders of business school.

We took a long walk around the Bugis area, and Kenneth popped into our conversation. It was liberating to force the thoughts into words: It made me think through everything twice over, and weigh the accuracy of each description. This word and it was too harsh, that word and it was too mild. Murakami wrote in South of the Border, West of the Sun, "Because memory and reality are so closely interlinked, sometimes they get mixed up... In order to pin down reality as reality, we need another reality to revitalize the first. Yet that other reality requires a third reality to serve as its grounding". (More or less, I can't remember word for word, and I did my best to search for the actual quote. Another thing to prove this theory. Did I read those exact words? It seems so, but I need to re-read those exact words again to confirm that previous memory.)

In the meanwhile we agreed on one simple thing: that in his disillusionment, we are going to keep feeding him heavy doses of optimism and whimsicality. Let's just hope the both of us don't get affected in turn, lol.

2004-12-09T02:13:00.000+08:00

Fresh thoughts, finally

...Like freshly chopped-up pieces of meat in the butcher window of my life, proudly displayed for all and sundry to survey. Not that I haven't been through anything recently, but that I've been quite busy.

Time then to just my thoughts into a basket.

At the moment, I lack the will to write: Emotions are blanked out from my head - All I see when I close my eyes is a blanket of unyielding darkness, my head is geared on my work, my body quivers with the small breaths of wind that exhale from the purple night sky.

Isn't it incredible how the person who can give you the most happiness, is ultimately also the one who can hurt you the most, even though that person may not be concious of this power? A woman is unfortunately, servant to her emotions: as a consequence we hurt ourselves. Sometimes in a subversive need to twist the seat of power to ourselves, we hurt others.

Yet we also have strong powers of recovery. To leave a place of hate, of anger, of destruction, and immediately start somewhere else: those are the strong instincts inherent in us - that our ultimate goal is to do "what is best", to preserve the family and society.

I think God gave me an answer tonight: One that came hidden, but was not unexpected. I know I asked for it, but I press forth, leaving no regrets behind me.

2004-11-24T02:13:00.000+08:00

Haven't blogged for awhile. Well just a brief one, since my brain seems out of focus at the moment anyway.

Tonight things were quite ugly at home. We spent most of the time quite nicely, my girls and I. My dad riled badly when he got home. There's nothing unusual about it, except that his behaviour is occasionally unacceptable by any standards. The issues that get him angry, that see him throwing things at us, slapping us or hurling abusives (I can never make up my mind which is worse, the physical abuse or the mental one)... well despite the fact I sincerely believe in not fighting with him, and of accepting him the way he is... his "issues" just do not justify what he does. Many times it is "sound and fury, signifying nothing". The emptiness of that anger strikes me when he does.

I will not get bitter, I think I can do much better than that. But I must bear in mind two things, that firstly, as I wrote to an old teacher who asked me what my hopes and dreams were, I told him to do a service to this world that could make it better for the generations to come, to set up my own business, and the "extraordinarily mundane wish" of finding the right person, getting married and leading a quiet life. Issues like this harden that innocent wish: it makes me think ever so often, it's not possible is it? I must maintain both my naivety and my cynicism, that intricate balance, one way and I stand to be hurt, the other and I stand to lose myself.

And secondly, if I ever do have children, that violence is not the way to bring them up. True, it is effective: it is harsh fathers that seem to breed good daughters. But I do not do it with my girls, and I shall persevere in using it as a last resort. I cannot bear to hurt them, and mental abuse is no better. I do not want to be an example of what not to be to my children.

2004-11-12T01:49:00.000+08:00

I forgot to mention, I popped over to my maternal grandma's today and saw my baby cousin Weihan. Oh goodness, he is so adoreable! Ack, I am in love! All I want to do is hug and kiss him and feed him and pull ridiculous faces over and over again... (hmm... now I think about it, it does sound like I'm in a relationship :D)

2004-11-12T01:41:00.000+08:00

I am just going to blog a little.

Weather report: Rain-smudged.

Well the two main events were my Corp Reporting presentation, which went thankfully well on Monday... and my final drama production tomorrow. I have a bit part and I'm on the keyboards. Help! Hope I don't mangle up everything. My director's not helping.
Kelvin: I know it seems like a small scene but it's very important! We have to give it everything!
A little edgy, nervous, everyone's been brilliant really... again, I hope I won't mess it up.

Have got to study Intelligent Organizations (which makes me feel stupid) for the finals on Saturday, and get an early night's rest. My only consolation is that after that it'll be the weekend, and possibly a good night out with Pat on Saturday *teehee*

My usual rainy day poem the next time, when I can collect the strands of my thoughts and weave them together. And off I go, pray for me...

2004-11-05T01:51:00.000+08:00

My cheerfulness, notwithstanding. There is a silent little sigh arising from the depths of my heart... I want to believe this is God's plan, I don't want to fight it, but these thoughts of being estranged from my friends because they are non-believers...
How can God, who is so loving, be so cruel?
That is a rhetorical statement, I do not actually question my Lord, but it disturbs me.

Talked to Lis, she always brings me hope, peace and comfort. God bless her. I love you Lis... you are my blessing.

A child of steel stands strong to the world
So new, so shiny, so structured, so complete,
Standing tall, tens of years, perfect form.

Lo and behold, cry the people,
That child of steel makes them quiver
With its sheer impossibility.

But time leaves none unscathed,
The child cannot bend, cannot show weakness,
Yet gets eaten away.

Slowly, slowly, forces itself to show no tear
Until with the last of its breath,
It collapses, lonely, into black oblivion.

2004-10-30T10:42:00.000+08:00

Packing up my stuff, getting ready for the move. My all, put in large cardboard boxes: My life examined, culled, labelled and segmented. I have been travelling back and forth in time today: Everything brings a little smile. To remember those angry moments I refused to smile in photos and when I wrote bitter journal entries, the funny skits we wrote to each other in school in letters hidden in our textbooks, the times I played the piano in the auditorium during recess, music filling the empty seats.
To eventually be filled with the growing realization that while I can never be that child, that innocent, that person anymore, the who I am now is the sum of all the people I have been before. That my heart no longer aches for the times that used to be, for people who were there. It is immaterial now. I have chosen to carry the fewest things I can, and trust all to fall into place.
After all, it will be a long journey, and from this point, it is time to move, is it not?

2004-10-30T10:37:00.000+08:00

Apology to my corporate reporting girls: I am so sorry for making us late for the project :( Have learnt a valuable lesson: Time management, and never take on more than you can chew (especially if you leave yourself only one week to clear all the financial statements, ugh...)
Really really sorry girls, I cannot feel worse about things. Especially to Lorri: I felt really miserable knowing that I was the cause for your distress yesterday... So sorry, will avoid that in future, haha... forgive me pls?

2004-10-24T08:27:00.000+08:00

Cold October night. My dad was quite nasty in the morning, and told me I was a terrible person and argumentative and I would never find anyone who would take me because I was getting uglier by the year. I could have snapped, but it isn’t my style.

Ground-up

Body sprawled across in uneasy compliance:: Head twisted in non-conforming assent:: Eye watching in an endless gaze:: Her pose so graceless it was perfect::

She gave me the calmness that wouldn’t stay still while I held it in my hand:: Her expression was familiar but I couldn’t place it:: Till it struck me, beyond me, how we were two halves of a whole that was quartered::

I tried to make sense:: To quantify that last moment:: To capture the pain and examine it:: And then release it like wild butterflies::

But it proved senseless:: So barren was the meaning:: And bleak in outcome:: The horizon of forced acceptance reflected:: Through the eyes of the silenced::

So disjointed was her peace:: Disjointed like my heart:: Unyielding in my conformity:: Dead in its rebellion:: Watching in third person that which could not be said::

And dreamed unending dreams:: That some day it could be mended:: I remained articulately silent:: My halves, my whole:: Would be able to join::

2004-10-22T21:34:00.000+08:00

I have a newfound sense of calm.
It can probably be explained by this (abridged) version of Rafidah's Strat prof's analogy:
First you go jogging, and you feel stitches, but you keep jogging.
Next you feel absolute pain (I think this is the point where you start oozing liquids and hacking... stitches become loving pet chinchillas in comparison). Being the brave (borderline idiot) that you are, you keep jogging.
Until finally, you break that final threshold of pain (I don't know if you break anything else) and you feel like you can jog on forever.

Yes, I reiterate to the world at large: Go on, give me more work. I would love to see when I break my final threshold of pain... have given up feeling stressed, I just want to get things out of my Out tray. Better yet if it's something I'm actually good at, like analysis.

Just a note though: Ever noticed how analysis starts with "anal"? Food for thought.

And to all my SMU friends: Guys... relax. I'm here for you if you need to blab. Please take good care of yourselves, it breaks my heart to see you guys wrecked up... I shall attempt to tend to everyone that I can. Don't feel ashamed to ask for attention yeah? And to my group mates: I'm working on it....

Loads of love.

2004-10-22T21:14:00.000+08:00

I haven't blogged for some time, so I suppose some updates are in order.

Firstly a holler to all my non-Singaporean friends. I'm alive guys, just that loads of work piling up.

I haven't seen much of the others recently, not even the ones within 1km of me in SMU, but I happened to have lunch with Lorri, Ben Tan and Shashank today. It was really hilarious, because we were sitting at the al fresco bit of the cafeteria halfway through lunch it started raining heavily.
When i say heavy, i mean heavy. As in: Water in your hair, shoes, socks, fingers, brain kinda wet. The canvas cover was drawn, so we were... in theory... sheltered.
But theory is a dangerous thing, isn't it?

Ben: ... Maybe we should move the table in a little? I think Mel's getting drenched by the rain.
Me: Yes. Thank you.
*We shift. Two minutes later*
Lorri: Ohh I am sooo damn cold!
Shashank: Here Lorraine! *stretching out his arms*
Lorri: NO I'M FINE NOW!
Ben: ...Maybe we should shift in a little more?

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Ten minutes and three meters inward later:
Me: Ooh is that a frog?
Lorri: Where?
Me: There!
Lorri+Ben: Where?
Me: There! At the doorway!
Lorri+Ben+Shashank: Where??
Me: There! At the stone step!
Lorri: Oh goodness, it is a frog!
*They watch in silence as it swims off*

And on our way up to the library, Lorri and I passed by the upper quad, which was flooded in timid puddles and were on their way to becoming a tributary.
Me: I see ecosystems forming in the near future. Oh look! Primal life forms!
Lorri: This is disgusting... my sandals are wet and I feel sick.
Me: Sweetie, you ain't got the worst of it. My sandals are felt. I don't just feel wet grains of sand. I feel mould growing into its third generation.

Ah... The joy of rainy days.

2004-10-14T23:03:00.000+08:00

放弃

我一直都觉得放弃很稀罕。。。半途而废给人一种不圆满的感觉，不对吗？
可是当双方都太倔强，都不让，那这么办才好呢？

放弃一个没有开始，见不到结果的感情，就像一顿没吃完的饭。虽然很不甘心，但没胃口了。等多一会儿，饭也都凉了。

我的妈妈常对我说：“拿得起，放得下。”
我得放下了吧。潇洒的，继续走下去，不再回头。

2004-10-10T19:50:00.000+08:00

Yesterday was my day-off: Nicki, Lis and I went to Sentosa in the late afternoon. Pity the waves were strong: standing at knee height water was impossible, and unless I wished to find out what the primal forests of Sumatra was like, I would not have ventured swimming.
After that we had pasta (at Pastamania) and popped off to Coffee Club for dessert.

Nicki and I shared a chocolate fondue.
What can I say? It is pure indulgence, pure hedonistic pleasure: The smile still lingers on my lips.

Don't hate me: The calories are taking their revenge already...

2004-09-24T21:21:00.000+08:00

I've been thinking. I don't suspect, but know, that I'm going through that phase which is: reflection, retrospection, introspection which everyone goes through. Sparked largely by Ben (my fellow devil's advocate, thinker, and in all other aspects, a muse), it gave me nothing short of post-modern insights into myself.

Reflection

01 It started with...
...my being hard-handed. Ben tactfully called it "the need to learn how to make others see my point of view".
Given.
I suppose I'm losing it a little, forgetting once again to watch myself; Knowing this, I will change. Any input to make me a better person is worth being grateful for, so, thank you Benben ^_^

02 The second point...
was that I was feeling left out: that nasty feeling of smallness which shrinks your rationality and being.
Last night Ben and I shared a cab back, and he was stressing how Lorri, Jo and he have a great friendship, built on sharing of problems and feedback.
Then I commented, "Sometimes I feel left out."
"From what?"
"You three."
"We three accept whoever comes along who accepts us as we are (and then a brief pause) why should anyone feel that not belonging matters? The should not place their self-worth on belonging, do you see?"
I see.
I just shrugged, saying, "Even though you say that, perhaps subconciously you already form your own boundaries."
Following that, Ben went on to give me a theory on the concious and subconcious realisation, saying that both could not coexist, which I had no time to expound before he hopped off.

2004-09-24T21:15:00.000+08:00

Retrospection

Thinking back, he has a point. People should not hinge their self-worth on belonging. But they also cannot ignore that feeling of exclusion. Ben would say that that is irrational, even silly, and I do agree to a large extent.
However, we know that although these feelings exists, human beings are rational creatures generally, so much so that we sometimes act against our feelings.
Suppression, repression, denial, frustration, self-doubt: All these are markers of this, symptoms, as it were, of our instinct-free decision making, and proof of the fact that "rationality" is exercised.
It often isn't as extreme: Most of us discount these 'nagging feelings', these afterthoughts, saying, "Don't think so much, it doesn't help." (I advocate and practise this myself). Yet in a most contradictory manner, this attempt to be "reasonable", to act "rationally", upon performing, becomes irrational!
As Dr Margaret Chan might ask, "Then are human beings rational or irrational in being rational?'
The strange dichotomy of it all is that we are both, yet we are none. Both, as I have entailed above. None, because we need to define what rationality is before we can analyse the question, and in defining one, we place the other as its anti-thesis, which simply put, "we cannot say, for aye or nay."

2004-09-24T20:55:00.000+08:00

Introspection

When I revisit that talk we had, I notice my indifference, again, that strange contradiction that I say something as cruel as "Sometimes I feel left out" and inside, it is not hate, or anger, or self-pity i feel, but dullness. A complete disassociation of self from emotion.
I questioned myself all night, and wrestled with my thoughts.
Rightfully, a child who walks into a room full of other children playing together, is not hesitating at the door merely because he/she is afraid of exclusion, but perhaps, he/she feels the forcedness, the abruptness of intrusion.
I feel it.
And so, I reissue my statement.
Sometimes, I feel that I have intruded on you three.
And before you shower me with your whys, your theories, your philosophies, Ben:
I am aware of myself, and that is all.
This is a comment, for I think out loud, and that is all.
As an irrational rational being, I know the cause and consequence, the strange dynamics of my thought processes, the curves of cost and benefit of this. I am open to your suggestions: your beautiful insights, from your beautiful mind.
But my rationale for my comments is irrational. I am hardly in denial about that. And just like the rationale behind this blog, I don't need to be understood, I just need to be heard. And in return, I hope to hear your true thoughts too.
As you would say, it's how we all can stay close, and that child which I am knows this, that that feeling of intrusion will eventually fade away.

2004-09-21T20:47:00.000+08:00

A Day Out With Lisa
...which of course, went well. Nicki-chan was supposed to join us, but she couldn't due to last minute commitments.
But to start at the start: I woke up at 5.30, hearing Wynne waking up for her bus. My bedsheets made me itch: and my sides were clammy, so I tossed and turned uncomfortably until I resigned to my fate and woke up with a sigh.
Ben (Tan) and I had IPR today (fantastic lesson!) and then went to man the Elections booth. Voting went quite well today: We managed to give away our SMU Bears in almost no time. Towards the end I met and managed to chat quite long with an old JC friend, Marcus today, and I think I blabbed on too long lol. Note to self: Talk less, listen more. One mouth, two ears, yesno? Following that was the outing with Lis which I had waited for for a long time.
We did our usual: Shopping and talking, fooling around Bugis. I didn't feel like shopping but there were loads of pretty things in the window, so I fed my eyes. I had to complain about some stuff to her, so we did it over genmachai and tiramisu. Heavenly.

2004-09-17T14:01:00.000+08:00

I have been, as usual, dead busy: in some senses, however, I feel removed from myself, almost guilty that I have not been working hard enough.

In most aspects most people would qualm at what I have... It isn't very much, but it is potentially taxing. Five modules, all heavy on the studying and project work. Two pending research jobs. I'm Vice President of my club (almost always tumultous), moderate citizenship in the business school society and am on the Elections Committee for this year's Student's Association.

But I think I really have very little in comparison to many of my counterparts. Especially my friend, Ben. Lorraine, Jo and I were talking over lunch about his overinvolvement in everything... corporate involvement with the company he interned with, a research job, heavy involvement with the same clubs as I am in, organising half a dozen events and on top of that, being completely involved in helping others with their modules. Ben if you're reading this, GIVE IT UP!

Have to find time to work on this webbie too, sigh again... Take care you all...

2004-06-06T00:28:00.000+08:00

I've been trying my best to update and personalise everything, but it's hellish to start everything from scratch. Nonetheless, I press on...

Religion
I wonder sometimes about it. It's not that I'm not a believer, I am. But sometimes I don't think I believe enough in any one religion to be a faithful follower. I have watched many friends change over the years, many from the fervent to the atheist, and from the non-believers to the faithful, and others so passionate in one religion to swing to another.
I remember being awestruck by the beauty of prayer and peace and light as a child in primary school. I remember the closeness to God and I remember the lightness and happiness of being. I remember the story of "Footsteps" to this day, and in a way it gives me hope when I don't think I can carry on.
Yet watching other friends from other religions believe so ardently in their religions, I waver.
Oh perhaps you damn me for what a weak person I am. Perhaps I am already damned by my wavering. By how years of solitude and separation from the Christian upbringings I was brought up in changed my faith, and indeed, me, forever.
I used to pain to go to church, and my parents didn't allow. I used to cry and cry. And then I sneaked off once or twice, and didn't find the right church.
Then I grew older. I met lots of friends who acted as a religious support. They encouraged me, told me to pray and be patient and I was!
But then the world changed. Yes, it changed greatly and I did something dangerous. I thought.

2004-05-22T09:04:00.000+08:00

...it's just this morning, perhaps.

It's summer, everyone. Not that that's much of a revelation. This is Singapore, it's practically summer all year round, protests my compadres. True, true. But be that as it may AAAAAAARGH! A Dali painting! Those are blinking expensive!
...Oh no, it's just the park in front of my computer screen. The trees are melting.

So what of this morning? Well the moment I hit the street, I was just overwhelmed by it. The colours, the movements, the smells. It's all so wonderful, so mundane, so pure.
...and suddenly, I found an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.
Just thinking back on all these years growing up here in Tampines. Every single emotion hit me right then and there, on the street, on the sidewalks, standing in the sunlight, under the expanse of eternal blue. And I thanked God with my whole heart for this life, this quiet life: no matter when it ends, at least it began ^_^

I wonder if mornings will smell the same in Katong.

2004-04-21T00:26:00.000+08:00

Hi people, know I promised a revamp *chuckle* but I've got the four-day entrepreneurship camp my society is organizing, starting tommorrow, so the facelift will have to wait! Leave messages if you need anything!

2004-04-21T00:23:00.000+08:00

I hope dearly for world peace, as whimsical and cliched as it sounds. But from my personal experiences, as long as people hold on to their anger, or fear, or shame, blinded by their pride...
...it's difficult isn't it? Walking in the dark, flailing blindly because you're afraid of being taken out.
How can we ever find peace if we don't know who we are, if we don't accept our faults and the fact we're only human?

I've been a little explosive, losing my cool, losing my sensibleness. I can only pray that God aid me withstand this trial.

2004-04-15T11:30:00.000+08:00

*mike squeals a little*
Ahem... ahem ahem... testing check one two...

People people, this is an announcement...
If you're wondering what kind of announcement, no, I haven't got a boyfriend and no I'm not getting a new hairdo so you can all stop standing around the table punting on what colour my hair will be next.

The blog is about two and a half weeks old and it's time to undergo a revamp! yes all you out there will know it's t-y-p-i-c-a-l of me and my habit of constantly changing but what do you care, you love me anyway ^_^

My exams will be over tommorrow, so hopefully this time next week you will see a new blog, always something to look forward to, oui?

Meanwhile, to all my dear girls who are still having exams: gambatte ne~

2004-04-15T11:25:00.000+08:00

Late April.

It's mid-noon: the sun is in the sky and there is no breeze. How still the park is, as if in anticipation, waiting, waiting for some breath of life to exhale upon it...

I enjoy this... this quiet life.

2004-04-09T04:54:00.000+08:00

今晚，我就用华语。

现在包围着我地，是沉默的夜晚：一片黑暗，应该是代表危险。。。却让我觉得无限的安全，平静。
睡得很少的我，非常清醒。

我是为什么那么相信朋友，在乎他们的举动呢? 我偶尔认为自己很傻。。。但是同时。。。

。。。同时我太了解自己了！同胞就是同胞：无论他们犯了什么错误，我仍然有那个必要去信任他们，支持他们，照顾他们。
博爱吗？我一点都不知晓。。。只懂心里最诚恳地愿望，是能看到大家开心。就这样。

乌黑的夜晚，带着温柔的微风，带着草原的芬芳，嗅觉就这么一灵。。。
领着我，飘进了另一个境界。

我要的和平，或许只是离谱而单纯的愿望，永远都得不到。
但我还是会继续奋斗，反抗，为我所珍惜的大家，争取幸福。

2004-04-04T23:38:00.000+08:00

Today it's been pretty rainy and cool.

It reminds me of days in my childhood, when I studied in a private and tiny outfit called Sunbird. The school was a bungalow in Loyang, I distinctly remember its red motif outside the house, and a small garden, with a Tyco playground.

On days like this we would sit on the steps near the garden, buzzing with the multitude of insect voices in the humid afternoons, the smell of rain hanging low in the air. When it rained, the whole house would be filled with a deep and mysterious darkness, and we would run upstairs, screaming into the rooms filled with children's encyclopedias and toys.

We would watch Scooby Doo on the old big TV set in the evenings, waiting for our parents to come pick us up.

I smell the post-rain air: that sweet, cool scent that breezes in and fades, evanescent.
Somehow, it smells of my childhood.

2004-04-04T23:27:00.000+08:00

Wynne fell asleep with the PS controls in her hand last nite! I was talking with a course mate from SMU on MSN last night, and walked over because the FF7 music went on for way too long. No gamer stays navigating the skies with an airship for that long.
She's 13, and she is already really beautiful, with some kind of mature weariness edging her beguiling innocence. She's always talking ruff, but then...

Curled up on the pillow
in your loveable way
Like a blue prawn
hugging a rock
That sweet expression
upon your face
as you meander
the field of dreams.

Despite myself,
I smile.
If I had one blessing,
you would be it.

My angels.
I often feel tired, cynical and the edge of meaness wants to grab the better part of me and run off with it. But when I see them sleeping, hugging together after all their fighting in the day... all pretense and anger falls away.

2004-03-29T02:20:00.000+08:00

I realised my mother has a really nice comforting smell. She's soft and warm and loving and smells of love and happiness. Today she was sick in bed and although I was sick I didn't feel so after tending to her. Poor mum... one of the loveliest people alive and she has a terrible constitution. Did God do this intentionally to make me treasure her more? It's beyond me.
I'm shameless really, almost 21 and still holding hands with her when i go out. I really love my mum.

2004-03-29T02:17:00.000+08:00

I just realised what that song was, and how I had a terrible mondegreen. It's not "Hello, hello," but rather "How long, how long", the opening words to Otherside by RHCP, which I love. I've been going back to my rock roots, and digging out sounds which I remember distinctly as a child.
Go listen.

How long, how long will I slide
Seperate my side...
I don't
I don't believe it's bad
Slittin my throat it's all I ever had...

Take it on the other side...

2004-03-25T11:38:00.000+08:00

Happiness is such a funny little thing... the more you try to make a grab for it, the more it eludes you. But when you finally give up and you're breathless and tired and stand still crying, it comes to you.

Remember that everyone.

2004-03-24T00:24:00.000+08:00

On Sunday, a senior in the third year died when he was playing frisbee in an IVP at Bishan Park, because of a heart attack. My friend Linda came in, her mood and expression painted with soft sadness. He was a friend of a close friend's, she told me.

Life, oh life, you cruel, beautiful, fragile creature

I did not know Fu Ying Jie, but his death still touches me. I salute him, as a comrade in arms. Your life was filled with people who love you, I am sure.

2004-03-24T00:18:00.000+08:00

Anyone who knows me and knows myself will tell you I love my two sisters so much, and how much of my choices in life and my aspirations is because of them. This one is for them.

For Wynne and Letitia

Girls I write this for you on this Monday morning, 0039hrs, listening to Piano Theme from FF11, off the top of my head, my logic running havoc. I think fondly of you always, and this day, 15th March 2004, 3 days past Wynne’s birthday, I stand dreaming, hoping I can do something for you.

I watch the world that has passed,
and the world now
and the world that is to come
Light thoughts running across my head,
as my light fingers run across the piano
Hitting the dreams of black and white
across the grey reality.
The bittersweet tune tearing at my heart so fiercely
then fading
and my stubborn heart
sobbing in its wake.

I think about this wicked world
which I leave you,
when I leave you.
Generous with its hope
Startling in its reality
Careless with its beauty.
With these foolish mortals,
wonderful mortals
with smiles that belittle their
cruel intentions.

I advise you,
Do not touch,
and do not trust,
but that is all.

I cannot change the world that has passed,
but I try to change the world now, so that
I will not weep,
my heart charged with the heaviness of guilt.
For I am poor,
and all which I leave you,
when I leave you
Is this world to come.

2004-03-22T19:05:00.000+08:00

This is an old poem I wrote, one and a half years ago, at my favourite cafe when I was with Zhong. Honey this is for you.

Café (Wandering Conversation)
Sitting with you at our usual café,
i sometimes drift off into the night
out on the streets, those
cold painted streets
that glisten a million colours from
industrial light

don’t for a minute think I’m going off on a
road trip into the desert of my mind
I’ve traversed those lonely roads and
The greatness overcomes me…
But I did not mean to leave you behind.

The space between us, before us
About us
Engulfs us but that
Is of no consequence to me.
But the time between this time, next time, last time
Your time, my time
the twist in the ending we never foresee.

The events that happen are
A comedy of errors
The more I think back it seems strange,
Some mocking script
And somehow there’s always a soundtrack
Booming from the stereos on the sidewalks,
In this café,
Pulling the guitar strings of my heart
The world’s a stage, we’re merely players.

I’d tell you not to be too sentimental
Maybe we read too much into it
But probably you’d tell me not to be too practical

So practical I give up thinking and lose myself to the bewildered night,
To the smell of cigarettes, musty and low
Against the faded glory of the world
I smell coffee and food and perfume
And think of the cold, rainy roads glistening,
Uncaring in that Technicolor light.

2004-03-22T14:43:00.000+08:00

As I was browsing through Zhong's page, and remembering Nic's excellent page and work... I started wondering about my lost artistic side, a side I have neglected for so long.
This page is a selfish devotion to my artistry and reckless observations.
As someone once sang "Hello, hello."