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.