decade old ballads and solitary bus rides

(in reply to grace's tag on facebook)

1. i have learnt that people can always be judged by their actions alone, if convenience is more important than true understanding.

2. there are many types of love, and which can be experienced with different people, often simultaneously like the simultaneity of time.

3. with reference to 2, all attempts at garnering all forms of love are at one's own risk, and sometimes burnt fingers can hurt more than often thought.

4. every step in my life has shaped who i am today, and i am not exactly sure if i would wish myself a complete, normal, happy family.

5. because of the perversity, i have paid in kind with many tears and many sleepless nights.

6. i have days when i feel intelligent and attractive and intriguing (these are few)

7. there are things and people and times i miss, of which i dont know if i should speak. but i do, i do miss you

8. i have ocd in the form of necessary ritual completion.

9. i lay on my stomach and slide my feet against each other to lull myself to sleep.

10. i hold my sister's hand when i have nightmares, and it comforts me.

11. i despise people with silver spoons in their mouths and who lead fluffy lives. but money talks, so i shall limit my comments to this blog.

12. mingyang is the only person for whom i have even begun to consider reconsidering my decision to not marry. (12 = 4 + 8 = 4 + 4x2)

13. i really like waraku's salmon and iko cream, recommended by june.

14. junejune is my favourite friend.

15. sometimes i imagine i can dance really beautifully and will twirl your most intimate tale, one that moves you and stays with you, and gives you comfort in your darkest hours and tugs at your heartstrings in times of pain. the memory will shush your screams and take so much out of you that you wonder if anything is really left.

16. i love the poetry that life can be.

picture a hall full of people

who smile at you and ask you about you and talk to you
and comfort you and encourage you and accompany you
and they sing all 5000 of them sing to you

"broken hearts, broken lives
He will take you in"

and almost there is an inkling of hope that you may well be one of them
if only, faith is about self-gratification: you sigh and reluctantly trudge onwards in the eternal search for that elusive truth that may turn out to be transient, and if it is? what if it is not? and what if it is?

http://andbreathedreams.blogspot.com/2008/12/for-you-my-dear.html

let me tell you of a love

that is so fragile, so lyrical
so vast in its splendour and drama
so sad, and so beautiful
so cliched, even contrived;
that it can only be true


My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion

turn into something beautiful

you know, for you i'd bleed myself dry
(for you i'd bleed myself dry)

i remember i forget

azian, ellia, fifa, firdaus, nabila & i were in the same class, 04s30 in tpjc.
wani was in the class too.
the myanmar children whom i met in ocip during jc, who cut the paper patterns and each chose to give one of theirs to me, and the paper patterns remain in my rusty purple metal coin box.
the laos children who drew animals and me, and gave me their drawings, which are inside my digital camera pouch.
my friends who have stepped into their very own whirlwinds while i have been revelling in mine.
the time when huimin stepped into the mrt too early and was the only one who got in while boyboy, mama, and me remained outside.
sambal porridge with michelle.
papa's habit of tucking his tshirt into his berms.
holding my siblings' hands while we cross the road together.

good morning world

school holiday mornings alone in school are always chilly and sluggish and mostly silent.

good morning, world

for you my dear

happy birthday, mingyang.

thank you for your love and
even though sometimes (everytime) it sucks that you know me too well
i am truly humbled by the purity of your love, and i hope that one day i will learn to love you properly, the way you deserve.

in the meantime please accept the semblance of love i have for you,
b

p.s. i'm sorry that i cannot upload the pictures, your phone does not have the bluetooth function. lol.

in my field of paper flowers

and candy clouds of lullaby; i lie
inside myself for hours
and watch my purple sky fly over me
:imaginary - evanescence

pretty pretty people and other elusive societies

a lazy swirl of sexy smoke from the enclave of slightly pouting lips, and long, thin fingers caressing the cigarette like this; like that

as i begin to lose my grip
on this reality
:black black heart

427 is overexposed and defocused compared to what i'm doing now. (erwin: LOL) 4 full days of filming consecutively, and counting. and if we do join the citibank thing, i can just repack my wardrobe to foreground the cui filming attires alr. (again! again!)

i feel strangely superior to pretty people in their fluffy existence, but as mingyang says, who am i to condescend, when i am myself far from any ideal i have constructed? no matter, no matter

maybe i hold on so determinedly to my hurt because a bleeding heart fascinates me far more than a whole one

if you will pardon my stunted silence and easy tears; i have many sorrows and little strength, little sanity, to let go.

ah, late night melancholy, rainy seasons, and sad songs. dressing on this sorrow salad for you?

hate to love and love to hate her

;like a broken record player

she is going to die, and soon.

no matter what she has done, what if she is just in pain now and she just wants to see you and that's it?

every second she is living now is pain and punishment enough.

what if she just dies now, right now?

your friends are not lying on their deathbeds now. your mother is.

you said yourself that she has the will to live, that she cries and holds on so tightly to your hand in the (far too seldom) visits you pay her, her strength will wane one day, it already is waning

this is not poetry. this is fucking life ah. your mother is lying on hospital bed after hospital bed for the 8th year with a quarter of her skull gone and her legs thin and distorted as twisted broken wooden chopsticks and her right arm completely lifeless

"你到底要妈妈做什么你才肯原谅我"

My Sister, My Love - Joyce Carol Oates

(Please don't sneer: these casual words in Vassily's exotic English yet reverberate in the murky air of this squalid room on Pitts Street, New Brunswick, more than thirteen years later. Sure I know Vassily didn't mean it, not for a nanosecond, and yet! for those of us so rarely praised, even insincerity can touch the heart.)

Baby, I Stay In Love Wit' You

in tandem with the mainstream music i've been inundated with for the better part of my first hours of consciousness today; a what-i-did-today entry

the fatigue, sweat-soaked tshirt, tomato-red face, and exhausted panting remain fresh. and that was last year, from dan's crazyass tiring training for fusion. this morning saw the first training for next year's jdc fusion item; a lyrical hiphop piece this time.

discounting the fools the salsa people made of ourselves from lack of exposure to the stretching and choreography of hiphop, it was a fun practice and i am glad to have the chance to dance with people from such different dance backgrounds, again. i look forward to 15 march 2009 already. i think i will invite many people this time round, even huimin and boyboy. it will be nothing short of a shock for them to see their big jie doing the boogie when i am in inverted faded old tshirt/shorts at home. haha.

and seriously i never thought i'd be listening to mariah carey on repeat. ever.

hiphop is different from salsa partly from its narrative potential; rizal said that the story for the fusion item will be a two-timing guy (because there're not enough guys) with a girl is more demure and thus dances lyrical hiphop, and another who is hotter and naughtier who dances to more explosive music. incidentally, i am going to be one of the demure ones. strange stuff

ms khainu held her wedding reception today at eunos cc. she looked absolutely gorgeous in her dress and elaborate hairdo. the place was very well decorated and the food was good and i wish her many many years of happiness ahead.

there is much to do for se. i am heartened to see the enthusiasm of the juniors and i have much to learn from them too.

cont'd; monday 8 dec
i just looked through the lyrics for the song. total fluff.
busy busy weeks ahead.
thank goodness there should be nothing wrong with mingyang's heart, and thank goodness for the hdb stuff being most likely confirmed.

now i just have to figure out how to make lots and lots and lots of money

boredom's excess

and nocturnal melancholy, and accidental treasures

fluffy post exam stuff

pardon the rambling really. it clears my mind and passes the time. i was reading through the recent archival entries in sarah's blog when one of her posts caught my eye; a cs module she took had a writing assignment: to do a self-intro in 10 sentences. and i thought hers was really good! so i am going to give it a shot. here goes nothing!

i enjoy literature and the art of writing very much. i am fascinated by the intricacies of life that can be equally beautiful and disastrous in their minuteness. i have no religion; i believe in a universal goodness and truth that spans across all faiths. i think that anamorphosis is a notion that can be applied to all spheres of life, and that it is the entailing complexity that results in convenient oversimplification in the form of stereotypes and extremism. i hope to be able to help the needy in ways that can empower them and bring smiles to their faces. i admire people who hold true faith and have passion in whatever they do. i am attracted to men who are intelligent, insightful, and introverted. i appreciate strong beauty in women; strength of character and individuality are much sexier than mere feminity. i have great enthusiasm in whatever i do. i believe that every experience has great learning opportunities. i believe in true love.

3.12am...still bored and awake! ah

this is not goodbye she said

(it is just time for me to rest my head)

post-exam inactivity can be rather jarring. after monday's se meeting, there better be whole loads of things to do. in the meantime the prata in my bulging tummy prances around in the spacious enclosure. my fats they pool like pancake dough.

lolita is quite a stunning read, and i'm taking a surprising long time to go through it. capturing the friedmans first opened my eyes to the possibilities of pedophile tendencies, and thus far into the novel, i have almost come to acknowledge on a personal level the sexual eroticism of child pornography. perhaps the entire idea of corrupting innocence is just transgressively kinky.

a few minutes ago i lamented in the mirror how like a wan vampiress i look like without makeup and nicely arranged hair. having a bao face is just troublesome sometimes, really. and then i walked into the kitchen and on the table was the picture of the female lawyer who was killed in india.

earlier today, while buying mineral water and fruitips candy, i saw her picture upside down. the newspapers were arranged facing the cashier and her story was headline news.

how fragile the life we hold in our hands like trembling butterflies. and yet, and yet.

an apparent occupational hazard of being a nurse is information overload on all the possible ways human beings can die. hui min told me this afternoon about a man who had been admitted for gastric flu and had a silent heart attack 45 minutes later, and subsequently died. a nurse on duty discovered that he had collapsed by chance, when she noticed his chest was not moving. contrary to the hospital shows, resuscitation can be carried out for a very long time, until the doctor orders a halt.

in her training days, hui min had been present at the end of the 3 hours of a futile resuscitation of a primary 5 son of a nursing staff. he had been knocked down by a car while crossing the road to the hospital with his mother. the medical team did not stop trying to revive him for 3 hours.

while i am sorry for the loss of the singaporean lady who died in the political strife, i think it should not be grieved alone, for so many others, also wives, husbands, daughters, and sons, have ceased to breathe in unintended or misinformed sacrifice for causes which could have been much better reconstrued.

to help out with the upcoming ove and se efforts are still activities of interest to me because i am essentially operating in my comfort zone with relevant contacts and experiences to draw from. i don't wholly believe in a religion. with all my heart i keep faith in the goodness of man, and yet this is coloured gray by the different lives we all lead. i hope i can be of meaningful help to these projects i embark on. i know it is better to concentrate on these than waste time feeling fat and fugly and pitiful, i just need to start doing something.

with every step we take we learn a little more about ourselves and this earth we inhabit. i really hope to respect all my experiences and turn them into strength that can be used to empower others. there is a silver lining in every cloud, it's a matter of how big the cloud's expanse and relatively how thick the lining is.

i wish i could say wholeheartedly that i want the dreams of having my family whole and intact and happy to cease. humanly humans, such fatal ambiguity. sigh

love; charity; respect

the fact that my uncle wants to cancel the transaction that will allow my family to remain in our humble home is really not that great a deal. he does not mean much to us and i should not veto his right to disregard, oh, only the rest of our lives which will be pinned down paying money for medical bills for a mother who was never really there. it is really okay. we have each other. you want our throats. i totally dig that.

i think it is just tragic how the pain and suffering of others are used as a backdrop to your wonderful(ly fluffy and useless) life, really. professing (questionable) sorrow amounts to a grand total of essential worthlessness. especially so since the convenient "this makes me cherish my life so much" and subsequent chanting of a day which is really the same as the one before, and the one before, and. a surprise! the one before too.

but who am i to speak ill, when i cannot think of anything to do to meaningfully help these people stuck in a political strife streaked with the blood of extremism.

how fatal the love that there are those like us who see sense and put faith in the justification of death, and how tragic the normalisation of suffering that has been present for time long enough that it is seen as the status quo, and thus more easily ignored.

there are those who live on less than US$1 daily, and others that spend US$20 million to go to the moon.

WSC just won itself the President's Social Service Award in recognition for its contribution to social awareness and charitable efforts. but what is really being recognised here? heritage, legacy, tradition. each year, the same projects and efforts will be churned out in accordance to the model as years before. it is all the more difficult to break out of the mold when people take unjustified pride in their minute roles holding up the status quo without giving heed to how this existing strength can be pushed farther. instead we stay on as worker ants and inflate our egos with the air of unfounded pride and transient glory. thus is the spirit of volunteerism gradually hardened into the commercialised institution of self-gratification.

"wah, you go overseas to help ah? it is very good of you. so now you cherish your life more right?"

yes, i do. who gives a flying fuck about whether i truly helped the people there for real and for life, right?

and no. i have not.

the last 3 minutes of the hours plays for the 6th time

female depression; agony; loneliness
they fascinate me.
surely, there is nothing else
more truthful
more poetic
more entrancing

the hours

Leonard, always
the years between
us
always the years. always the love
always; the hours

Without Blood - Alessandro Baricco

We have turned over the earth so violently that we have reawakened the savagery of children.

cheese, love

with all of film's incompletion and commercial interests, some stories remain as moving as before. say cheese, love, from the cliches your smile will shine

tinkling tunes that twirl you in a senseless haven

muted dreambeats and synthesised heartsongs

i think i realised what the best way; indeed, the only, to help snowman is. although the prospects of starting from ground zero at which people scorn at your sincerity, thoughts, and possibly even worth, is an extremely frightening one.

of course, the converse would be to live the life that is coloured only by consumerism, socialising, and general self-gratification. and with all my narcissism and selfishness, it is not the life i would like to have. not with a family like that, not with a boyfriend who's such.

it seems the stars have aligned through a really strange turn of events. and hell no way we are going to be people they will forget.

Ignite Change (it actually gives me the shivers just to type the words after so long. too long)

log

the walt disney company will be my attachment firm. (which means that no, spe networks is not)

it's a beautiful day

when the stars all shine your way
it's a beautiful day
oh if only they would stay
and not leave now the sky's all gray
where you gonna make your way
you were the one who walked away
now there's no one left with whom to say
we are forever your piao-ow-ways
how now brown cow. ay

in the big men's world

"aiya, people steal, sure got company one mah! similar financial status kind, loh!"

there are times i am reminded of my only true responsibility, my need for success.. if only to protect my family from the insulting assumptions and stabbing words of despicable beings. i want my family to never ever have to hear such words again.

i can sincerely say that i genuinely wish you a long, long life of pain and loneliness.

thetwirlstheyunravel

was the best i could come up with for a new blog address. i wanted a precedent to andbreathedreams, but still. hardly the most reader-friendly chunk of alphabets when put together. if only urls allow for italics and punctuations:

the twirls (they unravel)

looks so much better don't you think and OMFG what am i doing media management is in 15 hours and i haven't gotten down to proper reading yet. i must be mad (i must be post-accounting paper delirious)

daddy dj and shitting my pants

after the exams i will DANCE MY ASS OFF
(in the meantime i'm so freaked i'm shitting my pants)

"i will not possess your heart"

with imagination, anything is possible. even your love
i will not let you let me down so easily

the tingling sensation when the song you searched for finally plays

of pimples and cellulite

because my tiny brain goes into overdrive every exam, my face will model itself miraculously into the likeness of a landmine and my ass and legs will imitate a hot air balloon. with all this overwhelming activity, my intellectual capacity exponentially plummets and i am left with a page's worth of absorption and comprehension ability. that is to say, vastly none.

accounting is on monday. note to self: when making stunning decisions like taking up a subject that theorises another that you have not touched in 3 years, PLEASE RECONSIDER. or do it when there is no stunning module that demands a minimum of 100 hours weekly.

phase 2 has started. 146 people got places in phase 1 but i shall not rant, i will remember and take heed that there are many ways to perceive matters. axn asia here i come if you will take me.

to date i have consumed 1 tub of butter cookies, 2 sara lee cakes, 2 oreo tubes, 1 big bag of chipster, 6 kitkats, 4 toblerones, 1 packet of peanut butter cookies, 1 packet of toacker's, 7 packets of cheese crackers, 1 roll of digestive biscuits, and 10 packets of instant noodles. that excludes the 4 daily meals i have. and yes gloria the hippo in madagascar is actually me cameo.

we who Shine

junejune this is how much i miss you ok.
HAHA loves

following my 9 year old self's diary writing format

Dear Dairy,

I really feel like eating Macdonald's Hotcakes with Sausage Breakfast Extra Value Meal. And I really think that the new Mega McSpicy is just the old Double McSpicy so the extra $2 they are charging is really unjustified, but I ate it anyway because I miss Double McSpicy. And Media Management sucks and Felix Soh should have his ass burned for lying about uploading his slides. And Phase 2 of Internship applications opens at 10am later. And I am very touched by June's text and Erwin's Facebook status. And I am not very good at conveying my gladness so I hope they know. And I am very glad for friends, and I hope everybody has a good friend and a good night.

Ok Bye Bye!
Chng Bee Hwee
3rd year at NTU
(Go to Boon Lay MRT Station. From Boon Lay MRT Station must take 179 or 179A if is peak hours if not just go to 179)

"surprise!"

this is why the sash should stay

another unpoetic one

intertextuality:neil gaiman,facebook,hindsight,blogger,stomach cramps,frosties,michelle branch,and oh where was my mind the horror the horror

it is a daily ritual for me. i will check my hotmail account, my ntu webmail account, facebook, and friends' blogs.

monday night. erwin and i pleaded our way to a few stolen hours of editing to correct the minor error in the mov version of our film. and then of course naturally nothing personal it's all just a sad joke, the audio for our actual film to be shown ONLY the next day was screwed. shagged, crazy hair, haywire facial muscles screwed. mutilated screwed.

and thus ensued the craziest bout of editing i had ever done, the fastest i've heard erwin speak in avidtalk, probably for the rest of our lives. and we thought that was the worst of it.

at approximately 12.15am, i deleted the entire visual sequence.

you know when people say how joy, sorrow, anger immobilises them? i declare all such bullshit. because there is nothing, NOTHING that compares to fear. nada. zilch. uh uh, your flowers, fresh or wilted, do not even come close to pure fear. it's like an acohol-allergic downing a BATHTUB of chivas 18yo whiskey (the foulest liquid to pass my lips i swear).

this paragraph is dedicated to erwin in respect for his undoubtedly greater shock and immobility. looking at me delete sequence after sequence must put him off mouse clicks this life and the next, i fathom.

so. our film was screened in class today, erwin's blog says the audio was fine though i have to admit the whole thing seemed as skewed as the first time i watched it, i can never watch a zombie film the same way again HOW DID YOU DO IT MY GOODNESS ME YOU ARE GENIUSES HOW DO YOU TALLY EACH GROAN AND SNARL MY MY MY -

this friday i am meeting erwin again for the final touch-ups and exporting of the mov version. GAHD i hope i never see him again. and trust me it's not mutual. it's hugely skewed. i only cringe when i see him but he, like, pukes when he sees me. sigh

Strange Little Girls - Neil Gaiman

Strange
There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because tht's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sing, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crakles and is broken.

Several years later, in a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.

Whenever it rains you will think of her.

upon sands of love, continued

a canvas facing the endless sky,
singing to itself with the crimson
heartstrings seeking solace on silent
poetry; granted only
by loneliness it lives

there is really nothing romantic nor poetic about chocolate cream puffs

and probably the only thing that is more nauseating is how you chose to spend the holidays.

the opportunity cost the opportunity cost.

nevermore

ngiap ngiap!

you NEED to stop hurling heartspeak that leaves you high and dry and feeling dumb, not to mention tempted to spew more to possibly maybe hopefully improve things

no, Really.

nocturnal (genius or delirium)

as a girl i always wanted to join the neat row of legs in pink tights, twirling like swans with heads held high and necks stretched surely, surely to the skies. papa held my hand and pulled me away, saying that i would surely never persist.

maybe, he was too heartbroken to say he could not afford it.

when i see people going for holidays overseas on a regular basis, and complain over not having the most fashionable things, and go on overseas exchange trips, i am saddened and jealous and envious

when i see my father driving his taxi with spectacles on now, and the same shirt (carefully hung after each wash) and pants rolled neatly to reach his ankles, and the same old socks that droop despite me telling him to buy new ones

yes, i am chastened.

there are many things i would lke to do, places and people and subjects i would love to experience, and in all, all in all in all, there is really nothing greater than my wish to bring my father for a holiday to see the scenery he so much likes and truly, from the bottom of my heart i swear, he deserves.

i have many loves, and i will cry for them make gifts for them laugh with them comfort them hug them accompany them talk to them and listen to them
my father, i will die for him, gladly

two steps left and two steps right

when your heart gets broken
honey take two steps left two steps right
when there is little else left to be said cause he don't love you
baby go two stops down and pick a fight
with anyone anywhere really i don't think you'd care
seeing he doesn't no more and is nowhere
near you, he is with another her and he is nowhere
near you
he is nowhere near you dear, he is nowhere
he is nowhere near you
he is nowhere near you
he is nowhere near you
(i know you hold him inside you)

canvas

how are you

okay i guess and you

okay alright i don't know

gotta go

bye

i want to thank you all very much

overnight filming redefines insanity,
and insanity would not
be insane without fatigue, frustration,conflict, exasperation,
appreciation delirium and glad glad joy

and the madness continues tonight

anamorphosis (you don't care a bit)

the world reduced itself to a focal point when i turned towards and away and back before it registered that it was really you. barely, barely some distance away.

bubbles of chattering concern threatened to pour forth like a nightmare of frothing, drowning bath suds - how are you? how have you been? does it feel the same without me? am i still intriguing to you? was i ever intriguing to you? do i look pretty in this? did you turn to watch me as i walked away? if you didn't, did you want to? do you can you could you would you love me?

and then the whirlwind righted itself and i said less than nothing, after all, it was either this or the spillage that would doubtless leave both of us awkward and unsatisfied. rather it be me than you, then.

writing ed\en, i wish i had chronicled all momentary flashes of obssessive passion, if only so writing scripts would be easier.

in the shower earlier, it struck me again how bad i had broken mingyang's heart, and how much love and blind faith (there is nothing else to describe it, really) it took for him. and all he says to me is?

"you are the loveliest thing in the world"

wish fulfilment

last night, i dreamt that i was alone, sopping wet, running along a beach at night. the harsh stadium light captured my panic as i begged family after family to take me in; a muslim lady took pity and allowed me on her boat. together with her daughter, i pushed the open boat into the dark waters and we climbed in together. it was cold, depressing, and liberating.

i remember looking back towards the shore, starkly lit and mostly dark. from that moment i became truly alone, and so i no longer lived.

last week, or maybe the week before last, or maybe earlier, i dreamt of the beach too. it was an island, and we bought chicken rice. it was a steep decline down the beach to the sea, and they asked us not to sit too far down because high tide was coming in. we scoffed but sat closer to the gate that closed the sea out anyway, just in case.

halfway through our meal, the water gushed up the beach. i asked him to climb up first, and i followed as closely behind as i could. he reached the gate, and turned around to get me. i climbed up, already wet, and panted in manic relief. then the girl screamed. i turned and saw her pleading eyes as she got pulled down a little further with the water's momentary retreat. i jumped down.

pulling her by her dress and then pushing her by her ass up the sand, which now was slippery. i climbed, and then i heard the gush, and then the water surrounded me and pulled me into its embrace. the waves were huge, the water grey, and i swam futilely against the current, and i cried when i saw his disbelieving eyes, "i love you, i love you, i love you so much" as i was pulled continually back.

there came a moment when the noises just stopped, and it was the soft swish of the mutually lonely waves that reminded me it was i who had stopped crying out, and that was my surrender to the eternal solitude of the sea

then follow the mornings when, brushing my teeth, i reach out and wipe dry the tears on the face of the girl in the mirror

dear daughter,

dance your tears all dry and
scream till all fears fly and
read your dreams alive. do
pen your thoughts; all five
million dandelion stalks of them
and maybe then, then you will finally be
ready for the earthquake that love can be

若

早知道是这样, 像梦一场
我才不会把爱都放在同一个地方
我能原谅你的荒唐　
(荒唐的是我没有办法遗忘)

6.梦一场

prayer

please to the higher powers i know exist, give me strength to know my dignity and pride is not pulverised to powder just because i am not selected for an internship, give me faith to be convinced by my belief that no matter where i go i will learn many things that no matter where i am there are precious lessons to be learnt, give me solace from this unfounded, disheartening humiliation i feel like a second skin

brida - paulo coelho

'What are you good at?' asked the owner.

'Going after what I believe in.' That was the only possible reply; she spent her life in pursuit of what she believed in. The only problem was that she believed in something different every day.

"i will fling my hair back and you will fall"

,they all say. and i
say, shush -
Just Dance.

left a little me in you

november 2004, myanmar.
and then there is july 2008, laos.

look at the stars
look how they shine
(for you)
:yellow - coldplay

sweet dreams, little ones
may your smiles endure always
all ways

i left a little me, left a little me in you

lullaby

hush now, hush now,
the curtain of black soothing the stinging soul
windows
(keep your head low, someone walks by
you will not cry. you shall not die
of the shame) is unspoken
how dare you, how dare you lead a sad life

everything's gonna be alright,
everyone's gonna be just fine
everything's gonna be alright
everything's gonna be alright

hello you, stranger in the mirror
stranger, stranger in the mirror
if we touch noses will you comfort me

battle of the sadness

i was 50 minutes early for the interview.

the interview was in the conference room, and there were 3 men seated spaced evenly in a row opposite me, with a placard each stating their name and designation. they were dressed in full formal wear. the lady who opened the door for me was seated on the left, out of my line of sight as i faced the firing squad;

how is your financial status now?
how are you coping with your financial status?
doesn't your sister work too?
isn't there legal aid for lawyers?
how much does it cost per month for all the expenses?
what do you plan to work as?
do you work? how much do you earn?

this is the selection of candidates for the bursary; this is
the battle of the sadness.

are you sad enough?

rewind

apple the ping guo is a friend you like, and she is in your poject group for 401.

vans the sai is someone you like, and she is your president for salsa.

nah xue yuan is also likeable though he might not know or think so.

felily has been a gem though you are not the closest of buds.

cinema studies, dance, and film are your interests and accounting is quite exciting actually.

so what the FUCK are you doing

goh po

i am glad i hugged you on chinese new year.
thank you for offering me the cookies.
i hope there is no pain where you are.
rest in peace.

with stinging feet and singing heart

i mouth the rhythmic musical pulses in time with the working side of my earphone
left in my right ear
i close my eyes and picture jumping into a split and flinging my head back
i replay that 18 seconds of the song again
i lick the part of the roof of my mouth that i burnt with the microwaved peanut butter waffle
and the butterflies from my heart beats they flitter from my left ear, from my parted lips; flee
(free)

if i reach out i can touch your face in my memory, and i feel your skin;
can you feel mine?

i like songs that are in foreign languages because the words become part of the tune,
lilting and complementing the ebbs and flows of the musical instruments
and i am reminded of the beauty of language
and i can imagine that the lyrics sing my twirling flying kiss of a song

anniversary

with love

Discovery Channel

I love the mountains,
I love the clear blue skies
I love big bridges
I love when great whites fly
I love the whole world
And all its sights and sounds
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda

I love the oceans
I love real dirty things
I love to go fast
I love Egyptian kings
I love the whole world
And all its craziness
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda

I love tornadoes
I love arachnids
I love hot magma
I love the giant squids
I love the whole world
It's such a brilliant place
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda
Boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda


I Love the World, also known as I Love the Whole World, is an advertising campaign launched by Discovery Channel in 2008 in promotion of their new tagline: "The World is Just... Awesome".

The song used in the ad is a re-writing of a traditional camping song known as I Love the Mountains or I Love the Flowers, depending on the lyrics, with a distinctive chorus of "boom-de-yadda, boom-de-yadda".

today i scoured my heart and gouged the dirt out and laid it on a palate nicely fully in view. it was also the quickest exit ever i had made away from a class. escape was nothing short of a necessity.

it seems surreal i ever did it really. poured it all out just like that. hope you enjoyed the show, tune in next week same time same channel on bhwee live. (this would actually be halfway hilarious if it weren't true. sigh.)

(i really like the persona of lim yu beng i have constructed from my knowledge of his media persona and acting ventures and today's class.)

(from my 330pm self)

the rise and fall of his trilling, thrilling, full rich voice falls in sensual strokes upon my ears. like an eccentric hot air balloon, his lilting exhalations rise, rise in tenor, pitch and volume, until they don't, and then i fall together with his breath.

a moment of wide-eyed suspension in the pause, while unfamiliar and wholly intimate song titles pirouette across my eyes before jumping into a split out of sight -

this is how i disappear
everything in its place
i might be wrong
mama
life in a glasshouse
nylon smile
stop crying your heart out
just like you imagined
one day i'll fly away
(nice dream)
this is how i disappear
this is how i disappear

like spinning plates.
like spinning plates -

#23: hairpin

wo, manly

today i used a facial mask and hair mask for the first time in my life.

there is a pimple propping proudly below my left nostril. my chipped nail polish is still chipped and still on my nails. work starts tomorrow at the airport and i bought my ugliest pair of shoes yet, blood red mini heeled red points. the dress is white, normal-short, halter with a red collar. i only need to squat to reveal my ass and its accompanying blubber.

for some reason i cannot understand this sentence in the reading for narrative film theories -

This theoretical move lets us avoid that a priori favoring of certain film techniques characteristic of mimetic theories.

like, huh?

i am 21 years old. if i could see my younger self now, i would say this: the only difference between us is that you have made fewer mistakes, and yours are not of reverebating consequences that will ring so hard you wouldn't hear the voices in your head anymore -

and so you don't hear them: "run, run, run"

excerpts

(shamelessly copied, lifted, plagiarised from enhui's blog)


life and how to survive it: adrian tan, convocation address at wkwsci


"Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom."

"One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong."

"...you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it."

dedicated to snowman the mingyang

saccade

"Seeing is a constructive activity involving fast computations, stored concepts and various purposes, expectations and hypotheses

"We assemble this world from successive visual glances which we check against our cognitive maps; physiological tremors are filtered out

"Most visual perception is peripheral"

And sitting in class now, my mind is thinking of all other things but this. sigh

when it's just little you and me; golden molten silence

under murphy's law, everything that can go wrong - will.

so in style of doing a step outline, here is today so far at 9.14am as follows

1. character wakes up and realises her menstruation has come and her underwear is coloured red from biege.

2. there are not enough pads

3. she drags herself up to go to school with the snowman

4. she chooses the carriage from which precisely there are no seats; there is one seat, they ask each other to sit, a man comes and sits.

5. at the next station, the person sitting the aforementioned seat leaves

6. the train is filled to the brim and the snowman melts from all the people leaning on him

7. the queue for 179a is f long

8. boarding the bus, no fewer than 4 guys (dickless, doubtless) look blankly at her before climbing up the stairs

9. being extremely civilised in the early hours of the day without fail, she says fuck

10. reaching the school, going to the toilet - there is a red sea churning in her pants

11. walks into the library (the only reason she left for school early is to view indiana jones, a pescribed film for the popular cinema module)

12. the library does not have a copy of the film yet

13. a blob of blood departs her womb
13.1 she sits at the benches
13.2 a group of people laugh and talk
13.3 the noise goes straight to her brain like a truckload of tequila shots

14. she spews blood (from her oesophagus), loses consciousness, wakes up to find it was all a nightmare and the weekend has just begun

15. unfortunately, 14 did not happen

16. now, 1 hr and 40 minutes in school early, with a grand total of 3 hours of sleep and a minimal quota of 14 hours more to spend in school, life is great.

butterflies escaped my heart, flitted particles of love everywhere

and settled lightly on them

a starfish coloured in the parachute for me

multiplicity is a fundamental truth and is often fundamentally ignored. prisms my eyes have become, kaleidoscopes my ears, and a rainbow my heart. there is just too much to bear and to hear and to tear, but is that really an excusable enough excuse to excuse?

there are so many people in this world who are blinded by their own selfish desires, choosing to remain blind because it is convenient and comfortable.

what makes you think you have the right to have what you have, when so many others are suffering so much? and to be willingly encroached in a race which is essentially meaningless to your person, your soul, is just pathetic. there is so much more to life than just this.

what have you done today? ate, shopped, showed off your made-up face and nice clothes to people and then think you're the greatest shit in the world?

each face of a child suffering on television is as real as you were ten years back. as real as your child will be in ten years time. so you switch off the tv. and then what? you live, study, work, die without helping another person. is that the life you want? is it?

the world of humans is an ugly one, it is Earth that is beautiful. we have what it takes to be able to enjoy life on a plane unreachable by other animals, and we thus have the privilege to be able to understand and encompass both this higher realm and the fundamental, naturalistic one. but too few people acknowledge this, and love nature.

and until we can embrace this base relationship with nature, embrace the inextricable bond we have with fellow human beings, we will never be able to experience life.
:mingyang


what have you done today?

pictures of you, pictures of me

hanging on your wall for all the world to see

i spent the past hour trying to choose pictures to post on this blog, and failed miserably at it. too many too many too many things.

there are things known and truths felt that stifle my throat with their thorny scents and the song sung from this heart will be one of jarring silence. for nothing encapsulates this experience save space

heart-wrenching, wretched heart

when the children sing the songs you teach, and smile the joy you feel, and chase after your departing vehicle,

when a family takes you in with open arms into their humble home, and offer you more than they can afford unconditionally,

when you dance in the mud and the rain around a campfire holding hands with students from another nation and sing their songs,

when you see children trooping to school in the rain uphill to attend your classes,

when they gather to look at you mixing cement and laying bricks for the first library ever in their village,

when you become part of a human chain with the locals to transport sand for flooring,

that is when your wretched heart is wrenched, wringed, and left to drip. and all prior mention of your heart's silence is silenced and left to roll despondently in the padi fields belonging to the family that cried when you left, that hugged you when you gave them a parting gift, that loved you so much more than you deserved.

with love, with love. with love -
i love

ring a ring o' roses

a pocket full of posies
a-tishoo! a-tishoo!
we all fall down

tapping left heel with bent knee and nodding head

i am too psyched to sleep. it is the inter-tertiary dancesport competition later!

hello, hello, hello
:let's see how far we've come - matchbox 20

there are not enough friends nor friends' friends who are interesting enough and blog regularly enough. the regular bloggers are "oh today this and this and that and that" (okay june you're the exception because you are zzpy) and the rest just do not write enough.

can you chronicle each moment of your perception and perspective on anything and everything the mash and mesh of your existence and dreamy whispers and silenced breaths and forbidden sighs, oh do let me into that inner sanctum, do! hush and shush i promise i will.

now it's over for me and it's over for you
:let's see how far we've come - matchbox 20

the first line of the novel read, "red peonies grow between the concrete slabs." and i, i will walk against this conjured gale for all imagined eternity to reach that withering bloom and kiss its wispy petals. except, was it ever there?

whirr

Rebecca laughed again, the rich flamey bourbon was making her laugh. So many surprises in this room, that had gone to her head. She was short of breath as if she'd been running.

She was in Tignor's arms, and kissing him recklessly. Like one throwing herself from a height, falling, diving into water below, blindly trusting that the water would receive her and not crush her.

She opened her mouth to his. She would have him now, she would give herself over to him. She hated it, her soul so exposed. The man's eyes seeing her, that had seen so many other women naked. She could not bear it, such exposure, yet she would have him now.

Her body, that was a woman's body now, the heavy breasts, the belly, the patch of wiry black pubic hair that trailed upward to her navel, like seaweed, that filled her with angry shame.

:the gravedigger's daughter - joyce carol oates

this is the love story

that flowered from a fairytale, bloomed in smiles, and withers with time. through no fault, with no regret, but, still, and still, with tears.

who would have ever predicted an existence of monotony for themselves, and yet how many can live the lyrical life so beautiful and breathtaking? i read with my hands clapped against my lips to stop the wispy butterfly from escaping, before i can reduce it into lilting prose. and yet when i finally let go there is nothing left except stardust from a stellar explosion lightyears away and close to heart.

if you close your eyes and stand with me on this precipice i can almost promise you everything in a moment, but i forgot that my eternity is only as long as your chapter in my novel. and as each begins with a twirl, another ends with poignance. each cherished, each precious, each etched.

silly girl, you, for dreaming such and dreaming so

shush

nothing like a 39 degrees fever and a throat ulcer the size of king kong to remind me of my gross mortality and base humanity.

i have to say, i have the best sister in the world. and THE MOST irritating brother.
and my dad is just..spastic.

and i love them to bits.

zero capacity for any attempt at intellect. let me share my grand total diet for the past few days with you instead. (it rhymes!)

10 ritz crackers
1 bowl of porridge
1/4 slice of bread, no crust
1 bowl of soup with veg, mushrooms, about 2 sotong balls
5 million cups of water.

from monday until now!

each time i fall seriously ill, i learn a little more about myself and the people around me, and this time is no exception. this time it is one hell of a painful one - even breathing hurts, and swallowing is like stuffing a porcupine down your throat - but no less enlightening.

i think this holidays have been one of the most enriching and revealing ones so far (pun intended), and definitely definitely i cannot forget this. do not normalise! no more normalisations, they are the root of all this seemingly inexplicable gnawing emptiness.

No More Normalisations.

it is astounding how it takes 3 days of delirium to drive the message home.

huimin i love you. boyboy when i say laughing hurts and i ask you not to make me laugh, DONT MAKE ME LAUGH DAMMIT
and papa stop laughing at me, it is really not funny.

many loves, loves

objectively speaking, figuratively

art breeds thought breeds analysis breeds appreciation breeds thought breeds nostalgia breeds appreciation breeds talk breeds thought breeds intellectual conflict breeds discussion breeds thought breeds fatigue breeds delirium.

i am loving the opporunity to be exposed to such lovely people and their lovely thoughts and i am picking up the pieces of my fried mind and burnt heart.

tiptoeing fingers
linger on your lids; they paint
dances, whisper dreams

you don't know how lovely you are

insert a night of frolicking and a day of work and a ride on a crowded bus beside a smelly middle-aged man who keeps edging his thigh closer and thinking about the book on japan and westernisation and the loss of tradition and the incorporation of new ones and a servant who has sez with her employer who used to be a useless student at the teahouse and going for a break that came too late and just sitting for awhile before noticing the ogling fat caucasian man while beside, a teenaged boy named jason tan has 2 parts legs and 1 part body with distorted facial features and a hunchback of a right shoulder and mops the floor but he put too much mopping solution and the entire expanse of black tiles is frothy and thinking how much pain does he have to go through to mop the floor and returning from break and packing all the cigarettes into cartons and sneaking glances at the tall senior manager while deciding if promiscuity is something that can be pinpointed by other means than social or societal agreement which has proved countless times to be totally fallible anyway and thinking if the issue is but self-delusion and coming home with abrasion in the nether regions and considering and forfeiting the possibility of doing another brazilian;

can you tell which are the lies and where is the truth? does it really matter? is a blog supposed to be only about the truth? how can informational value be reconciled with artistic expression?

have you tried macdonald's onion rings?

the serviette was infront of me and the pen on my right and i did not pick it up to write, and now i have lost the words i wanted to say. permit me my moment of astounded silence, when you nonchalantly strolled right across the fence of indignance.

"hello robert"

"hi, how are you?"

"erm. good enough"

"good enough for what?"


and i fall in love again, in a sense.

documentation

hello goodbye

many farewells this summer. some short, some long, some quick, some drawn, some lost, some longed, some missed, some torn

and others, others silenced. silenced silence, silent silence

tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
oh and i rush to the start
:the scientist - coldplay

it was not a breeze to attend the funeral of someone so young. it brought back many sad memories.

"all of you must cry out to jiahao, the louder you call him to come home, the sooner he will"

"jiahao, hui jia, hui jia"

the chorus of voices was almost too much to bear. and alone at an empty table there was nothing to distract me from the tearing faces and tearing hearts. i bit my lip and clenched my fists and i did not know him personally and my heart was broken for all the broken hearts around me,

and all came to naught anyway because i cried alone on the bus.

nobody said it was easy
oh its such a shame for us to part
nobody said it was easy
no one ever said that it would be this hard
:the scientist - coldplay

hush now my dear, hush now and sleep
hush now my fear, hush now and sleep
hush now my tear, hush now and sleep
hush now, hush now

row, row, row your boat - gently
down the stream
merrily, merrily
merrily
merrily
(life is but a dream)

echoes

i am determinedly, purposely, foolishly, singlemindedly, gladly, hysterically, blindly indulging in the most parasitical of holidays i have ever had, yet. this is my sweet valley summer.

opportunity cost

always, moments of momentous, momentary clarity that are technicolour in truth and altogether too glaring for comfort. and always, always, at the weirdest of times. after latin class and beehoon goreng and prata on a walk back home 7 hours before work, for example.

there is always more than one reason for any one thing, and the interaction and intersection of each aspect with another is essential to the construction of the whole. for example, the choice to buy a branded top of a particular brand entails influences from the particular shopping companion, the time of year and month and week and day, financial status, the current read, the issues in newspapers and the news recently, educational level and course of study and clique, among others.

this complexity is the reason for simplicity's existence, because simplicity is crucial to constructing and completing individual tasks in everyday life.

...it is late, my brain is not functioning anymore. let's leave this to another day, i hope i made sense. i know at least 1 person will understand what i said.

goodnight

do you have skin on the side of your fingernails

forgot to hold my breath while reading and now all the words are lost once more. tell me again why you fell in love with me when you knew you would fall out of it, and i am left standing here on an annynomous mound of lost sighs guarding a dying smile. i am sorry, i am sorry, a trilling thrilling distraction trilled to me and i got lost, now i'm somewhere i don't exactly know where and i can't find my way back/

\song to the desert sands part two wish you were here

unintended

ring a ring-o-roses
a pocket full of posies
a-tishoo, a-tishoo
we all fall down.

the touch of your fingertips on my trembling eyelids will remain vivid
but, still.
in those stolen moments of reverie i danced an\other untangling tango
only this time, i return to no one.
with a relieved sigh i turn in slumber and mouth:
"colour me beautiful, or colour me null"

prototype

there are a few constants in my life; my soft nails that break at the most classic of times, the shitfests that occur when i take dairy products in the mornings, the resentment i have towards the monotony and rock-solid roles that always go unfilfilled, and the legacy of broken hearts i leave behind.

there was a stream, just a teeny weeny stream, and the stream was on its way. and the moon hung high in the clear blue sky and all was bright and gay

"you're like a double-edged sword"

i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry.

by the end of this limping stroll, there will be no more cotton candy blues

pop culture

i have never watched a full episode of american idol and the only reason i did so today was because the tv was on and my right hand was on my book and my left hand was on my donut (sugared with chocolate filling, totally delicious and absolutely sinful, i assure you). it was an episode of idol gives back.

there are, we all know, many many people in this world who actually genuinely need help. yes, you cannot afford another holiday, she cannot buy that dress, he cannot buy that car, we cannot go for our holiday, and those children share a foam mattress ridden with bugs and mold.

all alike, alike all.

i admit i am one of the laziest people i know. my idea of a good sunday is in bed with a book and an endless supply of titbits and automatically refilling iced water with bite-sized ice cubes because i like to chew ice cubes. this is only one of the many traits i acknowledge i inherited from my mother.

and on afternoon tv which i am watching because of my immense laziness is a group of african children lying down on the foam mattress to show the hosts where they sleep. the walls are grimy concrete, the furniture in their home consists of broken pails and broken spades, and a father rendered blind from landmines is guided by his 6-year-old son onto the streets to beg for money, and a day with 5dollars is good.

and how much did your clothes cost again?

i am going to laos for 14days in july to help rebuild a library for schoolchildren there, and hopefully bring them a spark of joy. no, i don't think that everyone should be living the american dream of democracy and yada yada bla bla, but yes, i think we should all have medication, education,and more than a moldy grimy foam sheet to retreat to every night.

suddenly, the meaning of volunteerism and the importance of awareness is slapping me incessantly, and i am duly chastised and truly awakened.

i am ashamed. and are you?

someday

today, it was raining very heavily, so sitting at the viewing mall inside the transit area of changi airport's terminal 2 was a much more enjoyable experience. this has always been my favourite way of spending the lunch hour. with a book, some food, a drink, and a chair. of course, it is a plus that the cushioned, inclined chairs of t2 transit area are really comfortable, and the ceiling is at least 4 storeys above me.

so there i was, looking out at the planes without having to squint like normal (the glass is not tinted like the public viewing mall at t1), and i had the urge to share it with someone again.

"hey, how is your day? i am really happy now, i am sitting on the rightmost seat at the back of the only 2 rows of chairs, 3 in each row, and i'm having subway, the ceiling is way above me, it is raining, and i am happy. this quiet and peace and silence is something i really cherish, like i work 7 hours in the shop to earn this hour of reverie.

have you ever felt like that? just enjoying the peace and quiet, and i almost wanted to take pictures of the moment, and be able to post pretty pictures like many of my friends, but it was easier to close my eyes and smile to breathe in the feel of it all. did i tell you about the yellow butterfly i saw flitting past outside last week? it was beautiful; i wish i was beautiful in a disarming way like that. yellow wings against a world of concrete, nonchalant, carefree, and altogether surreal and captivating.

i saw the cargo crew on the ground, all dressed in flourescent yellow waterproof suits, unloading the luggage into mini-trucks. i would like to be an air stewardess, but i hope to be able to work at least a day like they do, in the rain. waterproof things are never waterproof - not this long, anyway. walking in the rain can be romantic and lonely. do you think contradictions are poetic? i think so, i hope you do, too.

in that hour, the dimmed brightness of the sun and my novel formed a soft bubble around me, and i swished slowly from side to side to the rhythm of the raindrops outside like an ankle-length skirt on the grass. another day for our bustling airport, another part-time employee, another 1hour lunch break. another pair of mesmerised eyes, greedily soaking in the scent of this moment.

the thing i will always remember most are the pair of wipers on the windscreen of the silkair plane that came so close to me, turning into its dock. i smiled in the general direction of where the pilot would be sitting. i would like to think he had seen me, and had had smiled, too.

maybe, someday, i will be beautiful, and bloom for you like that yellow butterfly from the garden of concrete, and you will love me as an unforgettable dance - again; i think i dream of you in dreams"

letter from the sands of nowhere. wish you were here

brisk walking

i wring my mind when the only things to do that would feel right are the wrong things, and when there is so much desire for some sound solace that the string becomes too taut, and breaks.

these are times when all is still, and all is still thus, still.

say a cake's recipe has to be explained to a refugee with only 2 seconds to spare, for whatever reasons. so is the marble cake chocolate or vanilla? does the answer depend on your taste? my taste? the refugee's skin colour? the statistical majority as according to all those who have baked marble cakes?

i've tried dancing, acting, filming, teaching, waitressing, promoting, admin assisting, and so on and so forth. and thus far, there is nothing i have accomplished.

can you love me? love me, it will make me feel (momentarily) better about my disappointing self. how now brown cow, what to do, there is nothing to be done.

let's wait for godot together. definitely, maybe

alternate reality

their only ever true mistake was that they loved her, in their own way. because there are some dandelions that cling on forever, and others that choose to drift until their eternity is fulfilled.

2 may 1987

this is the year with the most number of birthday songs sung to me.

turning 21 is always taken to be and said to be a landmark in anyone's life, some invisible step towards adulthood and all the rest of the unknowable glances exchanged between people with greying hair when someone younger asks, "but why does it have to be like that?"

"you'll know when you're older, my dear."

but somehow, on the bus between 1145pm on 1may and 1215am on 2may, my widened eyes and held breath met with injustice. i was; am, exactly as i have always been. a little more willing to reflect on some of the things i consciously left aside, yes, but...same yawning style, same shitting patterns, same...yea. same lameness.

just for historical purposes, a list of those who wished me a happy 21st birthday, in order of recalling order
chengs
june
mingyang
grace
daryk
zheeloong
elaine
cat
chief
shuangshuang
cassie
step
nadia
fahimah
yoke keong
boyboy
huimin
papa
weiwei
xf
michelle
benedict
singyee
weixiu
kangyu
chinyuen
mingzhi
nab
xueling
kian seng
aya
sher min
fiona

never really told pple my bday bcos of various reasons, one of which is to see who'd rem and who'd ask. haha. but oh well, a good 21st. very happy to eat with papa huimin and boyboy at home.

i love my loves with all my heart, i think that's the most important thing to remember.

why you make me feel this way

she kept her chin parallel to the ground, taking only glances at the people around her like there was something precariously balanced on the tip of her nose.

we are used to living life in short gasps. and then what of the lingering looks, were they ever there, ever there at all? there is a long lost love story that is really moving and truly sincere and i would like very much to tell you what it is, except i don't know if it was ever true at all. he said no. he said no, he said: "no. i have never."

in a place nearly far away, that dance continues in momentary eternity.


it starts in my toes and i lose all control;
hold me tight. wherever, wherever, wherever you go
wherever, wherever
wherever you go

encapsulation

i will always love you
i will always love you
i will always love you
i will always love you

how it can ever possible to reconcile each doppelganger and each alter ego and each alternating persona except by sheer pretense, i really don't know.

alternatively, i could walk the path already trodden so many times that noteven cloth peonies can survive on it anymore, and surrender to comfortable reality, annonymous pragamtism. so the whirlwind can be shielded.

unless it dies, i wonder

i will always love you

mediocrity

hopelessly so, and dragging others down with me to boot.

boo, hais

Jordan

She was incurably dishonest. She wasn't able to endure being at a disadvantage and, given this unwillingness, I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when she was very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to the world and yet satisfy the demands of her hard, jaunty body.
:the great gatsby - f. scott fitzgerald

knots and cultural specificity

in finland, knots are not allowed in weddings because they spell bad luck. in english, to marry is often described as "to tie the knot".

after 22nd april
1. go to as many libraries all over singapore as possible to borrow books and be steeped in the air of le livres. c'est extraordinaire. tres bien.
2. meet aya and junejune and go somewhere nice to drink coffee and read
3. swim and tan my ass off
4. Dance Dance Revolution
5. save up and buy new novels
6. watch all the movies in the world on watch-movies.net
7. meet chengs and rot in nasi briyani curry and shop shout dream scream wave jump sms to support superband
8. meet elaine at her hse
9. meet cass and grace to eat meatballs
10. meet michelle
\
must. do.
1. work
2. home
3. RUNNING SNOWMAN BASKETBALL NIGHTS. i remember ok.
4. do fliers for wsc camp (prerequisite is install and learn photoshop)
5. danceeeeeee
6. give tuition
7. eat with family
8. pat lucky and exercise with him
9. clear the mess from the table of exiled academic paraphernalia (paraphernelia?)
10. read during lunch breaks, hopefully at the new terminal 3
11. dance and read and eat and sleep
12. sleep and eat and read and dance
13. read and dance and eat
14. sleep
15. yea you get the idea

banality as a result of shitting at the tutee's house after absentism for 5 million years. pardon me

essence, evaporation

because the strongest of today's societal constructs are free competition and free market, there is a best friend who keeps things because we are technically competitors, there is a fear when asking for notes from a friend, there is a silence that permeates the aftermath of someone; anyone, asking for a something that may possibly potentially just probably put you in a relatively less stronger position than before.

of course, subjectivity is another trait all too common, hence the rise of blogging. intellectual narcissism, pseudo-preachin, the works.

i would just like to say that i curb loneliness by browsing through my friends' pictures on the internet, i hide behind the screen so when the sudden wails come i can maintain some semblance of dignity, i visit your blog to read about you when i miss you, and you. maybe even you.

he said that he has no time for poetry because it is too messy, it entails too much of the peripherals of life. and you? what's your excuse?

so much loneliness in this world and all we do is turn over to the tv page, equate the picture of one dying child to another, go to another country and take pictures of suffering people and say they are happy and cry when we leave and return to our town window-shopping and more emotional projection, surf the online shops of our friends to remember their faces, touch the image of a smiling face and try to absorb; comprehend, the joy.

i hated being alone at home, and i would sing all throughout my shower until my throat was sore - i hated being alone at home, and i hated being alone at night, until i realised that i am alone wherever i am. standing a metre away from you, and i can hardly articulate the songs i want to sing infront of you the dances i want to perform the touch i want to feel and let you feel the tears i want you to wipe away the smile i want to conjure and much more and much less.

exams are ending soon, and all that this entails

and make the fireflies dance

there is so much to learn from reading, just the random rambles of a thoughtful person can be astonishingly moving. and i have to say that haikus are like the neutron stars of poetry. a single teaspoon would outweigh mount everest.

yes i had my astronomy paper today. haha. if a white dwarf is in a closed binary star system with a main sequence star or a giant, there is likely to be mass trasnfer, leading to a re-ignition of hydrogen fusion on the surface of the white dwarf. when there is enough heat to have helium fusion, the outer layer of gas will explode in what is known as a planetary nebula.

in expelling the gas layer, a bit of the white dwarf's mass will be lost too.

i realise i am extremely prone to nocturnal dystopic tendencies, resulting in random and often embarrassing verbal diarrhea. where has the sophisticated, calm, cool, collected, sure person gone? or maybe there is not any such person at all.

looking at things now, i think i would decide anyway to be able to truly learn and feel and realise, than be the all-knowing condescending intimidating bitch that is really quite troublesome to upkeep anyway (heels are the bitchiest shit ever. like seriously. and it doesn't help that 3 out of the 4 pairs of heels i have are at least 4 inches high and are stilettos).

but la hais. the inadequacy can really stunt my perceptual abilities, which ends in a vicious cycle.

write too many things alr. another unecessary personal nebula that will take some part of me along with the disclosure.

so many things in this world and life to learn, and which would you choose to comprehend, the move? the moving? or the moved?

--edit--
newton's third law. for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

for each intelligent read and thought and person... yea. you get the idea.
sometimes the sheer...lack of thought or capacity for it as is apparent but of course i shall not derive nor decide nor stereotype but ah it is challenging it is, it can be rather.. nauseating. ok la slightly slightly. haha/

goodnight

with this dip all the world shall drop dead

and we will finally exist only in the song of dance

j'aime la danse

i totally, totally miss dancing.

reality check

five million things to do and still as dishevelled as ever.

gobstopper

the only one which fills out the shape of my mouth perfectly;
resting upon the soft gum
nestling against an ulcer

it is in turn sweet
it is in turn bitter
it is in turn soothing
it is in turn sour

the only one which fills out the shape of my mouth perfectly;
there is no leaving me
there is no leaving you

i in turn embrace it
i in turn dread it

i eventually stand still
it is the perfect fit
and there is no leaving
there is no more leaving

shush

i feel..unbeautiful. again

essence

'What?' Anna asks in a whisper. I am listening to my mother telling me what a tabloid newspaper says about the theft of my son while he crawls headfirst under the covers to get to the foot of the bed.
:seven types of ambiguity - elliott perlman

冬天来了

spare me this world of a longing
spare me solace from this woe
a silent dance twirled in joy,

as real as a dandelion's smile
and as transient as a lover's kiss

winter has come
and you left
the music begins
and i weep

grant me, another dance
grant me, an other dance

with all my heart

sweet dreams are made of these;

and who am i, to disagree?

some of them want to use you
some of them want to be used by you

some of them want to abuse you
some of them want to be abused

thematic concerns

and here we go for the hundredth time
breathing in the sunshine
going out of my fucking mind
i am only always truly thine

tonight's bachata competition in upper club at chijmes was another night of crazyass densing fun.

maybe after all these do not matter because you are you are my constant amidst my tendrils of transgressions

(maybe i am living the life i want to live the life my mother does and did because
maybe this way maybe someday i will no longer hate you, my beautiful bloom of sin)

this is what separates us keeps you from me and me from you
this is my silent singing sin.

anna molly, anna molly
anna molly
anomaly

come, come, come into my world

love me? love me.
love, me

note to self

your heart is hardened, don't pretend otherwise.
nobody gives a shit about your sob story nor your reasons.
you are a sinner and you can't bring yourself to forgive
therefore you don't deserve to be forgiven either.

your heart is hardened, so don't pretend otherwise.
fuck off into the cynical street.
stop trying to fit into cottoncandy land.

your heart is hardened, so don't pretend otherwise.

kabhi khushi kabhie gham

sometimes joy, sometimes sorrow
"It is all about loving your parents"

the moment i read the tagline for the film scheduled today in lecture, the sinking feeling returned.
and the pit hardened into a rock when i read the blog post about a son's pain for his mother who fractured her wrist.

and i am again reminded that my proximity to you is but a farce
for what separates us is more than a back turned, it is a handful of tears
the handful of tears i will carry with me as long as i breathe.


mama,
this night will be another when i cry myself to sleep because of you.

"meihui, next time grow up you must take care of me you know?"

"of course la mama, i will buy a BIGG BIGG house for you and papa to stay in ok! then we go around the world!"


"mama, why don't you and papa sleep together one ah? all my friends say their parents sleep together one you know"

"aiya, you go and ask your papa la."

"why can't you tell me? just tell me la i promise i don't tell huimin and boyboy. hook little fingers!"

"AIYA. go and ask your papa la. don't disturb me go go"


let me tell you a fucking funny story.
a jc2 girl was really happy because she just talked to her crush
and she went home and saw her beloved father looking dejected sitting at the kitchen table.
she went to hug him and ask him what was wrong,
he turned and had tears in his eyes.
that was the night he told his 3 children the truth
that was the night she punched the wall until she bled and punched some more
that was the night she walked the streets with bleeding hands
that was the night she lost all strength and squatted alongside the road
that was the night she squatted on the sidewalk and screamed her heart out
that was the night she cried her heart out, until there was little of it left
that was the night she cried her heart out.

somebody cue the laughter please, let's all laugh.
HAHAHAHAHHA
i'm so sorry, i think it is just so FUCKING FUNNY.
a fractured wrist.
a film about parental love.
a funny story.
ISN'T IT SO FUCKING HILARIOUS??????

I THINK SO.

DO YOU???? :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

after this ballet we will die our beautiful death;

today i bought 2 new dresses and went to enhui's blog and heard this song

and suddenly i want to wear all my clothes at once and inhale their pungent cottony aura and grab their edges and hold the fraying ends close to my heart;

and suddenly i want to strip and don only my dreams and whims and
twirl again, and run again, dance again and jump again
let it be a promise. that after this misty morning and wistful song

that after this ballet of a music of a long-
ing gaze, we will die our beautiful death;
alongside and apart

today i did this and this and this

hello,

today i met nabila, fariza, fahimah, nadia, and salfarizah and we went to eat at lucky plaza. (maybe my new name should be lee-yaa)
today i bought the geeky specs i wanted and a new orange vintage-y wallet
today i put mopiko on the rash on my back
todayhuimin sms-ed and said my phone was ready for collection, but i have no money until my next pay so
today i asked huimin if she could ask papa to pay for the repairs first
today i read a few emails from salsa people and i am always heartened by how sincere everyone is
today i was captured on camera, and i am not sure if it is a nice picture so
today i posted a picture of myself on my blog for future reference and judgment
today it rained for the first time in a long time and i looked out the window for some time
today i watched a man on tv say "save my wife, she is everything to me" and it was acting and it was moving
today i listened to songs that trace my sighs

stripped

pen my rainbow of thrills
sing your scent of imaginary
frills; the hopeless folly and smile
that you bring me, to
like you wring me, too