In Continuum.

First Words

I know i have been blogging a little excessively,especially this weekend.But i figured if this is my only refuge in this whole world,where nobody is going to judge what i say,then so be it if i have tonnes of things to talk about.I used to think that it's rather strange,almost perverse,to start your diary or blog entries with "Dear Diary",or "Dear Blog".But now that i think about it,although im not going to start that practise anytime soon,i kinda understand the affection shown towards this silent medium where we spill our thoughts.You know,how silence is the best cure in sorrows?Yeah,that's it.

It's been a week or two since i have been debating with myself if i should message her again.Of course,the idea still remains rather ridiculous but...liking her in the first place is rather ridiculous in the very first place.I questioned myself what i am expecting from her,say we start talking about.Do i continue at where i left her,like her all over again?Or do i stay put,tune down a little bit,let nature take it's course and accept that this is as good as it gets,dont spoil it once again.Dumbass.

I think what i am,or should be expecting is the latter of the two questions.I think at this point i am not having anymore expectations whatsoever when it concerns her,anymore.Every thought conjured is a thought dismissed.Like,i'd go "Let's do this" and then later im probably going to sucessfully convince myself "But what the hell for?" In a way i am glad that i have this part of me pulling me back,always reminding me that i have this stupidity deep inside,that should be avoided at all costs.

Another major hold back for me really is what i am supposed to SAY to her as the first words,after so long without contact.I mean come on,the one after the Coldplay concert doesnt count as a conversation.It was more like "Oh,excuse me..." when you bump into a strange on the road.There's more passion involved in that,actually.

Speaking of first words,i related that to the numerous "Pick-up" lines ive heard of,or read of over the years.There are a couple of interesting ones i'd like to share.Before i continue with the lines i'd like to advice the male readers out there NOT to use these lines.You'd probably end up being the gag of the night,and possibly the girl's lifetime.

1)The Five Fingers Trick
Sit at a bar table and act all casual and cool.You see a girl walking in your direction and you find her absolutely astounding.You decide to make your move,and as you catch her attention you point at her with your index finger,then curl it inwards as if to lure her in.

As she approaches,you say,"Hey,i got you to come with one finger.Imagine what i can do with five!"

2)The Sparkle
I heard this from a retarded friend in JC,actually.He actually was stupid enough to try this trick.But the funny part really isnt the fact that he attempted the impossible,but rather the girl's reaction to it afterwards.

Look deeply into the girl's eyes,and whisper in her ears,"There's something in your eyes,i think it is a sparkle."

To that,the girl's reply to my friend was(Really!),"Huh?Really ah,where?"

3)The Polar Bear Trick
Go up to a girl and ask her if it is okay for you to ask her a question.If she agrees,proceed with the below questionaire.

"Okay,do you happen to know how much a polar bear weighs?"

Obviously,she's not going to know the answer.The only weight she knows is probably her own.So when she says,"No",reply:

"Oh,enough to break the ice.Hi!"

Those were some of the worst pick-up lines in the history of pick-up lines.Im sure there are better ones,or the really good ones.But as a person who never believed in pick-up lines,ive only heard the absolute worst.So forgive me,gentlemen,if you guys didnt get anything out of reading the above suggestions.

Anyway,back to my point.So what am i supposed to say to her as my first words?Of course,i am certainly not going to attempt those pick-up lines mentioned.That's suicidal.Perhaps when i am dead drunk and a ass full of debts.Before then,no thanks.

Perhaps a straightforward,"Hi,it's been awhile..." .But that's a little simple,isnt it?Im not sure,it doesnt sound right.It sounds to wistful,perhaps.Like telling her,"Hey,I'm real bored now.Entertain me!" kinda thing.It doesnt give her a good impression of you,though perhaps she already has one.

So this crazy idea came to me while it rained this afternoon.I rolled over to the window to get this magazine from the shelves beside the window when i looked out,and thought of my first words.It's probably not going to work,though.But it is my best shot at things.Hell,im probably never going to use THIS line,it sounds absolutely cheesy.Perhaps just something im going to dream about saying,the dream whereby i actually have the guts and balls to say such a thing.So here we go,in the middle of a sunny Sunday afternoon her phone vibrates.A tone goes off,and haflway through a sketch she's been doing she opens up a message in her handphone and reads:

"Hey,it's raining..."

Everybody says,"Cheese!"

Revamped

New room.New furnishes.New look.


New shelves for Dvds.


Books.Books.Books.Books.


Room with orange hue.


Full glory.


Silhouette Josephine.

The Murderous Life

Samantha and I were talking about blogs yesterday night(Since she's a whiz at html),and for some reason our conversation led to school life.For her,it starts in a little more than two weeks' time,while for me i still have a lot of time to go before my fingers finally touch textbooks again.Im not exactly looking forward to the sensation of textbook pages to my skin for sure,but i guess school life itself is something to look forward to.After all,a change is a change,right?Everybody loves changes,for better for worse.

She cannot wait for school to start,which i deemed as a folly idea.I mean,i havent heard somebody say something as crazy as that ever since Corinna's early University days.Of course,a couple of months later i recieved a message from her saying that the novelty of University was finally wearing off.You cant blame her for the sudden change of liking towards University life.After all,she has $39000 after her like hungry stray dogs.

Personally,i cannot wait for Retirement life to start.Imagine the amount of things you can do with it,the time spent on your rocking chair drinking a cup of afternoon tea.Sure,you dont have your youth with you and all,but i guess "Time",in today's context,really is the most valuable asset anybody can possess.

A friend of mine over at the forums was complaining about the stressful school life,something i held close to heart while reading.The way teachers were biased towards other students because you were too stupid to meet their demanding standards.The way every answer you gave in papers were circled,crossed,underlined with bold red pen.You never met expectations,others' or yours.And by the end of one semester you find that you've fulfilled nothing and achieved nothing.Yeah,i feel you girl.I feel you.

It's ridiculous that people proclaim the vitality of a youthful life when all they do is to take away the very foundation of it.You dont say,"Oh,teenagers are the most fortunate batch of people in our society simply because they have the age factor with them,and thus they can accomplish anything".True,to some extent but let's examine the truthfulness to that claim.

I think a youthful life nowadays is over-rated.We are robbed of a normal,ordinary teenage life.Robbed by the textbooks,the examinations,the expectations,the results and so many other things.Whatever happened to our parents' time,running on green fields and pissing into the wind,all so careless?Those times are gone,and now around us we around surrounded not by hills of green by mountains of books.Under our feet not green grass but blood red inks upon white paper.

Which is why i am looking forward to my retirement life.Sure,im probably going to have white hair sticking out of my head and wrinkles lining the edges of my eyes and mouth.But hey,time will be on my side and that is when i can truly tell everybody,that i can accomplish everything.

An interesting observation popped out during our conversation though.Like teenage life,she said that the working life is over-rated as well.That i agreed,and elaborated on it,saying that it is a horrifying thought to be working the same job,probably in the same position for the rest of your bloody life.Isnt it scary,to be doing the same thing for such a long time?At least school life,military life,ends somewhere,sometime.The working life lasts,and it is daunting just thinking about it.

"At least old age ends with death..." she said.And i laughed,adding on to that sentence,"And the worst part about teenage life is that it ends with LIFE".Which is so true,because at the end of our so-called "Teenage Life",we face "Life" itself,the ultimate test of all human beings.I think it is so true to call death a sort of escape,something people look forward to but too afraid to speak of.

I am a firm believer that there is no such thing as hell,only heaven.We were all sinners in our past lives,and because of that we are not in heaven,but sent back to earth to experience life all over again.Life,the most dreadful aspect of the after life.Isnt it an interesting thought,perhaps comforting in a way,that there is no such thing as a hell?Life,is hell itself.The murderous life,living and dying from it all at the same time.

Always Again

"...Thursday, July 24, 2053 (Henry is 43, Clare is 82)

Henry: I find myself in a dark hallway. At the end of the hall is a door, slightly open with white light spilling around its edges. The hall is full of galoshes and rain coats. I walk slowly down and silently to the door and carefully look into the next room. Morning light fills up the room and is painful at first, but as my eyes adjust I see that in the room is a plain wooden table next to a window. A woman sits at the table facing the window. A teacup sits at her elbow. Outside is the lake, the waves rush up the shore and recede with calming repetition which becomes like stillness after a few minutes. The woman is extremely still. Something about her is familiar. She is an old woman; her hair is perfectly white and lies long on her back in a thin stream, over a slight dowager's hump. She wears a sweater the color of coral. The curve of her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture say here is someone who is very tired, and I am very tired, myself. I shift my weight from one foot to the other and the floor creaks, the woman turns and sees me and her face is remade into joy; I am suddenly amazed; this is Clare, Clare old! and she is coming to me, so slowly, and I take her into my arms.

Monday, July 14, 2053 (Clare is 82)

Clare: This morning everything is clean; the storm has left branches strewn around the yard, which I will presently go out and pick up: all the beach's sand has been redistributed and laid down fresh in an even blanket pocked with impressions of rain, and the daylillies bend and glisten in the white seven a.m. light. I sit at the dining room table with a cup of tea, looking at the water, listening. Waiting.

Today is not much different from all the other days. I get up at dawn, out on slacks and a sweater, brush my hair, make toast, and tea, and sit looking at the lake, wondering if he will come today. It's not much different from the many other times he was gone, and i waited, except that this time i have instructions: this time I know Henry will come, eventually. I sometimes wonder if this readiness, this expectation, prevents the miracle from happening. But I have no choice. He is coming, and i am here..."

--- The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Blood Red Heels

Here's a little something i wrote for my sister's art project of sorts.A picture of a blood red heel with a white background.She was thinking of something to put by the side of that picture,but hadnt the faintest idea.So i suggested the poem i wrote below.Im not sure if she is going to use this as her material,and in actual fact i dont care anymore.I kinda like the idea,or rather the image of somebody dancing her life away in bloody red heels.It's tragically poetic,isnt it?

I'm wearing my blood painted heels
Dancing down the hall,hoping for something real
Spin me around one last time until
The lights go out and darkness prevails...

Slow dancing in these blood red heels
In a burning room where my heart still feels
This gaping hole only you can fill
Oh, dearest! May death be the way to heal...

One's Compelling Aspects

I always tell people that inspiration usually strikes in the most unusual manner.I dont consider myself to be a terribly good writer,or a terribly average writer at that.I am merely a passionate storyteller,and there is a difference there.I think it is rather sad that so many people out there are afraid/unwilling to take on the step of storytelling,despite the potentials,just because there are already so many greater writers out there.

My take is that a writer should write not because he thinks that he is better than most of the writers out there,or not write because he is not as good as a lot of writers.I think one should write because he has the passion to tell a story,to bring his or her point across to the general public,and i think that is the most crucial factor when you are before your computer,with the cursor blinking on the blank Microsoft Word screen thinking about whether or not you should start writing something.I think everybody should just attempt to write SOMETHING,even if they are mere thoughts rushing through your head like a runaway train.I mean,im sure Dan Brown or Mitch Albom,more contemporary writers did not start out wanting to overtake others like Dickens or Hemingway,right?

Anyway,let me bring the point of this entry back to where it started(Sidenote:I actually forgot for just a little while before this bracketed sentence).I have a vague idea where my first good idea struck in a weird place.In was on the toilet bowl on a Saturday afternoon,a little more than three years ago when i was still in SRJC.I typed a self-composed SMS and showed it to a couple of friends,and sort of became an instant hit(I remember Kelly asking it from me so she could send to her then-boyfriend).That was where it all started,sources of inspiration disguised in strange and often unexpected places.

I was in the shower just yesterday when i came up with this idea.I was thinking about the aspects of our lives that are the most compelling.Of course,everybody probably have different priorities in things,right.You dont expect somebody working on Wall Street with millions of dollars going in and out of his office everyday,to place priority of a cheeseburger over say,his Mercedes Benz in a raging fire at home.That's the priority of a beggar,and i think the compelling aspects of life differs with social classes.

I was,however,looking for a common aspect that strikes people as,being something important.Something we often neglect,or too afraid to admit it.I figured that there are three aspects of everybody's life that are the most compelling,the three aspects that deters everything that we do,or rather ought to be the things that dictate our actions.Not greed,not temptations,not wants but pure need through these three aspects of our lives.

Life.Love.Death.It is easy to come up with these three aspects,if you read them merely by their words really.After all,we speak,we hear,we talk,we experience such things all the time.Every moment that you are breathing you are experiencing life.Everytime you fall in love,have a crush,or ruffle your fingers through your dog's fur,you are experiencing love.Everytime a friend of a friend dies,a relative passes away,somebody close to hear moves on in the afterlife,you are experiencing death.And the interesting point to note here is that as water gushed down my body from the shower,with soap all over my face i figured out the connection between the three.

I think there is a sort of relationship between all three.I have to mention the theory of "Six Degrees of Separation" once more.While the three aspects do not have six people in between them,they are directly or indirectly related to each other,no matter which way you look.

Love gives meaning to life.Life gives meaning to death.Death gives meaning to love.It goes in this loop that goes round and round,doesnt it.The way there is an universal balance in everything.Love gives meaning to life,that is not a difficult concept to grasp.

In view of the suicidal entries that i have dished out over the past few weeks,or even months,i think it is only fair to give "Life" a fair share of argument.Imagine yourself in a loving relationship.Your boyfriend is good,and he treats you good.Not great perhaps,but i guess in the world of today you shouldnt ask for too much.Not everybody is Jerry Maguire,really.Anyway,You guys had a fun start,and through the times you guys were together,you smiled more than you frowned.Even when you cry,you cry happy tears.From laughing too hard,from the gifts on a rainy day,from the words softly whispered over the phone.

One day,however,that fairy tale ends.You are beside your bedroom window,sitting on a high chair drinking bitter wine,wondering what went wrong.To correct your mistake,you thought,you might take a step out of the window and let the pavement below do the rest of the forgetting.You start to think about,whether your life is worth living afterwards,after the break up.You wonder if,without the love of this man,who so naturally occupied your life for the past six years,you are going to be whole again.

The reason to life,the reason to live,really is love.There are others who love you,for different reasons.You dont just go on ending your life,thinking that it is not worth living because one love is gone.One love's disappearance is really another's emergence.If not for all the riches in the world,love is really what we should all aim to live for,to take the next step for,to take the next breath for.

Life gives meaning to death,that is perhaps a rather difficult concept to grasp.Or rather,a little more complicated.It doesnt add up,the way you read it i understand.But let's picture yourself in a scenario once more.I think if there is a scale to measure the greatness of one's death,that scale will depend fully on one's live.William Wallace said in the movie BraveHeart,"Everybody dies,but not everybody truly lives",and i think that sort of explains the whole concept of how life gives meaning to death.

Everyday,somebody dies somewhere.It is inevitable,and death comes with life,naturally.It is rather daunting at times if you were to think about the amount of space these dead corpses are going to take up,urns or no urns.Death is such a common thing,that it surpasses the common-ness of say,taking a cab,hanging out with friends in town,a night out at a club.So many people die,and you wonder what is the meaning death,if it is the inevitable end to everybody's journey through life.People die,others weep,then later forgotten with time.The lack of remembrance is the part of the package of death,really.

But what really differs one death from another is the life before the death.What people do you life,that really matters."What you do in life,echos in eternity",shouted Maximus before the Roman troops attacked the barbarians in Germania.So true,the way death suddenly has all the meanings,once life is taken into consideration,dont you think?

Death gives meaning to love,this concept is rather morbid.I think people can never love somebody enough until death comes knocking at one's door.It's just sad that in this cold world of ours nowadays,people are so close and yet,so very far away from one another.Shoulders brush against one another,you smell somebody else's cologne,you smell her hair in the train to work,the way intimacy is supposed to work.And yet,people are so careless of each others' presence nowadays,you start to wonder if "Love" is merely a word somebody created because it sounded nice with the curling of the tongue,or perhaps somebody came up with that word to describe "Wants","Temptations",just an excuse to want something to satisfy your greed,perhaps?

Only when death is faced,when somebody is at his or her death bed do we truly LOVE somebody.I dont think love is truly enough anywhere,not even the UNICEF workers all around the world,not until the kids' lives start to wain and you are holding his arm,so weak and thin.That is when love truly works its magic,when it is in full bloom,when it truly matters.

So this is all a circle,love,life and death.People usually give too much emphasis on the first aspect but never the latter two,always taken for granted.I dont think i am fit enough to say i live by what i said.Truthfully speaking,i think you must be some sort of saint to be able to live the three aspects to the fullest.But i guess the least one can do is to recognise the compelling aspects of life,and witness it with arms outstretched and mind wide opened when the time comes.

I Ran Away

One, two, three... well
I ran away from you
That's all I ever do
And though I started here
I ran away from you
I'm gonna come on in
And see it through
I ran away from you
That's all I ever do
And when I heard you call to
Come back to you
And though I should stay
I don't have the stomach to
Everyone I know
Says I'm a fool to mess with you
Everyone I know
Says it's a stupid thing to do
I have your love on call
And yet my day was so full
There might be nothing left to do
So I ran away from you
I'm gonna come on in
My eyes are closed
I can feel it there
The sun's so close
I'm gonna come on out
And burn the sky
A star arose in my own cage
I'm stuck in line
And in a cage
Just a single star
I see it fall
Everyone I know
Says I'm a fool to mess with you
Everyone I know
Says it's a stupid thing to do
I have your love on call
And yet my day was so full
And I did not know what to do
And so I ran away from you

Fullstop

As some of you might have already known,i was robbed in camp a couple of days ago.Went outfield and the bunch of people who faked their illnesses and MCs,stayed back in camp and rotted away.One of those pricks snuck into my bunk and well...basically stole every valuable possession that i had.You name it really,they're all gone.

Let's see.My iPod,handphone,two chargers,a couple of bills in my wallet and a cup of noodles.Yeah,a cup of noodles.Sure,i was in absolute shock and anger when i discovered the missing 'goods',but it soon turned into a sort of strange depression while my friends kept dwelling on the subject throughout the day.It was helpful of them to point out the possible suspects,motives and stuff like that.It was nice of them to care,but at some points i just wanted everybody to drop the topic,and move on with their lives while i move on with mine.I needed time to think,and they certainly didnt provide me with a lot of that.

Whoever did it was kind enough to leave another packet of noodles,with about twenty dollars left in the wallet.The wallet itself was still intact,but the money was gone.I guess i must say that it felt a lot worse than my sister's incident,when she left her handphone hanging on a hook at the back of a toilet door.I felt the pain,i really did.But hey,life goes on and i had to come up with a solutions: I would replace everything that i lost and improve on them.

The most heartbreaking aspect of this tragic loss were the photgraphs and messages that i had in my phone.Those were the most precious part of my possession,really.Just thinking about all the pictures that i ever took with that phone makes me want to strange whoever that stole my phone,chop him up to five pieces and hang him at fire corners of Singapore to warn the other thieves,of the possible outcomes of their actions,like what the English did to William Wallace.

So the messages are gone too,including the messages from her.I expected myself to feel real fucked up about that aspect,but i am not somehow.For some reason the fact that i am rid of her old messages is a sort of...rock off the chest kind of experience.It's like finally telling somebody that you cheated in some test,and all these years you lived with the guilt and it haunts you.

It's like a big fat fullstop to this part of the chapter.So this dot,ends this phase of my life and so i shall move on to the next chapter.How powerful this little dot can mean so much,the way punctuations dictate the structure of a sentence,or even the emotions expressed through the words.They are like amplifiers,taking the music and the sound to yet another level of emotions.

A simple robbery,just one theft,one little dot and here i am moving on to the next phase of my life.I already have a new iPod with me,a new handphone (N72!!!),and i am sure as hell am going to rebuild this kingdom of mine once more.This time,with stronger locks and anti-theft alarm systems built all around.Because your act was a test for me,and i am going to pass this test with colours flying so high you wouldnt even see them passing through the stratosphere and halfway to the moon.

It felt like spring cleaning of my mind,of all the old messages that she ever sent me.I saved a lot of them i must say,and once in a while in the silence of the night i would surf through them and go through the different memories that i had.But now that they are gone,despite the little pricking sensation in my heart,i think this is a good thing that happened to me,in a way.

Life works in funny ways i guess,and like the great MOM once said,"Any problem that involves money is not a problem".That quote got me through this whole ordeal,and i was so grateful that she was actually cool about it,saying that it was a small loss and stuff.Got to love my mother,i guess.

So here we are,at the end of the entry.What can i say,i guess there are phases of our lives that end and brand new ones start just like that.She will remain part of me still,but with the messages gone it's like plucking her limbs out from the image of her i have in my body.They slowly fade,with time and soon enough all that's going to be left is a single name.Her name,still lingering around with so many others.I shall not weep,staying as strong as ive always been through all these times.Everything starts,and everything ends.It's not going to be a complete end to her role in my life with this incident of course,but at least this is a sort of start,right?

Right?

Emily Part IV: Two to Tango

The handle was cold again,the way it felt before Emily entered the ICU.Yet the feeling of rejection was upon her now,with the gravity working against her and the column of air above her head weighing down.She felt so heavy,with each beating of her heart she counted down to her own slow and impending death.Her fingertips touched the cold handle again,and this time she pushed through,for the last time...

The object was cold,the way she felt before Emily entered the house,while she was still in the comfort of her car,warmed by her coat and scarf.Yet the feeling of anger and disgust was upon her now,as she held out the object in front of Tracy,who was then trembling from fear and petrification.She pleaded for mercy,but Emily repeated the same line over and over again."Dont you say that about her,dont you say that about her!"

There she stood in the room,naked.In between the two naked bodies,the object glimmered under the light from the ceiling.Her hand shivered,yet she remained composed.She knew,that there is no turning back now,that this is the point of no return.This is,Emily said to herself,it.So as she murmured Sarah's name under her own breathed,she smiled in a wicked and perverse way,almost twisted and crazed manner,for the last time...

The bedsheets were crumpled,and the blanket on the floor like a frozen ocean wave.The oxygen mask hung loosely from the tank,and the Sarah was gone.Sarah's gone,and Emily panicked.She called for help,and a couple of nurse came dashing in,followed by an officer who happened to be around at that very moment.Nobody saw Sarah leaving the room,and the windows were properly locked and sealed.There was no way out,and just like that,twice in the last ten minutes,Emily lost Sarah all over again...

The chests heaved and the bodies twisted.Bodies against bodies,lips against lips.Cigarettes lighted and cigarettes burnt out.Beers poured and beers spilled out.Music drowned,the drunkards frowned.Nobody knew,the silent scream was now deafening.Above their heads the naked girl pleaded,with tears now running down her face.Tracy had her fingers locked between each other,mumbling something inaudible to Emily now.No voice,now sound,no music,no moaning penatrated her ears,but the voice of Sarah's last words."I loved her..." it repeated."I loved her..." And just like that,the fourth time in the last ten months,Emily lost Sarah all over again...

Like a torchlight running low on battery,the afternoon sun peaked through the gap between buildings.A rectangle of orange now in the room,as Emily looked around the empty room,dazed and confused.She panted,after the desperate look up and down the hallways and bathrooms,hoping to find Sarah's weak body against the cold tiles,trembling from fear,from love,and most of all from the regrets of her own words.

Flash,there was a flash.A sudden black and then white.It was black,and then it was orange again,the rectangle on the wall changed it's hue,and Emily knew.Emily knew...


Like a music player being unplugged,the music suddenly stopped.The crowd jeered and the rest cursed.Some couldnt care less,as they publically made out on couches and on swimming pool benches.So careless of the world,these young souls as they gave their lives and bodies away to each other.While upstairs there was a flash,a sudden white and then black.It was black,and white,and then it was dim again,as the rectangular light at the doorway changed colour.

But right then,nobody knew.Nobody knew...

Out of the window Emily looked,and down below was a cab parked at the front of the hospital.The driver was on all fours,screaming for paramedics.On top of his car,was the body of Sarah,still in her hospital gown and her hair now untied.She stared straight up into the beautifully painted sky,almost as if it was welcoming her into the fluffy arms of the clouds.There was a trace of a smile,her very last smile as blood trickled down the dented roof of the car and down the sides,onto the tarmac and into the drain at the side of the curb.The very last warmth of Sarah,her life and soul flowing into the gutters like her love for Tracy,the way the both of them ended up in the dirtiest,the darkest,the unexpected.

Still,Sarah's body looked on with a smile,still wistful and hopeful of better things to come.As her life drained away under he broken body,Emily watched,blinked once,blinked twice,and fainted.

Into the room everybody looked,and down on the ground was a body naked against the wall.Nobody knew her name,and her eyes were closed then.She had blood all over,but no wound could be found at all.She passed out,somebody said as he grabbed a towel and covered her bare body.The carpet was stained with blood,with a drop or two still visible on the ceiling.The object laid,still glistering in the middle of the bloody pool,so proud of what it has done to it's owner,for it's owner.

There was a trace of a smile,as blood trickled down her temples and down her neck,onto the carpet and through the floorboards.The very last warmth of Emily,as her life and soul flowed into the wooden flooring on the room,like her love for Sarah,the way both of them ended up in the dirtiest,the darkest,the unexpected.

Still,Emily's body looked on with a smile,suddenly wistful and hopeful of better things to come.As her life drained away from the gaping hole in her temple,the rest of the party-goers watched.The girls,blinked once,blinked twice,and screamed.

Emily Part III: Eternity

Emily tasted Tracy's saliva,as they exchanged kisses on the bedsheets.Emily laid on her back with her arms stretched out,and Tracy's head between her breasts now.She was panting,and so was Emily,as they listened to the sound from next door and the music below.They were muffled,like their minds right then,all was a blur.It was as if the world drowned under the music,the noise,the sex and everything that was between Emily and Tracy as they breathed love and lust into each other.

Is this how Sarah felt,Emily thought.Is this why she fell in love with Tracy in the first place?

Tracy burrowed her head into Emily's armpit then,and tickled her nipple until the both of them collapsed into each others' arms after a pillow fight.Emily was hysterical then,and the object in the purse,the object meant for Tracy,almost faded from her mind now halfway between the stratosphere and the moon.She leaned over the edge of the bed,and tried to reach for the purse,but was pulled back into bed by Tracy,who was then giggle uncontrollably.So this is why Sarah never loved me,Emily thought again.She felt Sarah inside of her then,almost controlling her emotions,taking over her thoughts.Under Tracy,as she crawled over her body,she felt Sarah's voice inside her head,ever so gentle and soft.

"Do you love me?" Emily asked,after yet another passionate kiss.

"Yes," Tracy replied. "Yes,i love you."

"Then why did you leave her?Why did you leave us?"

"What are you talking about?" Tracy replied,confused.She retreated from Emily now,with a frown between her carefully drawn eyebrows.

"Sarah,why did you leave Sarah?"

"You know her?" Tracy said,surprised."She got boring after a while.I mean,she was beautiful,and she was hot.Like,really hot.We couldnt get enough of each other actually.But she worn me down,like tires on tarmac,you know?I was so tired,the way she always reminds me of how fucked up i am.I hated it,i hated her,and almost everything she ever said about her,and about me.Just...everything."

"You loved her,too?"

"Loved,sure.Then i hated.She was fucked up,she fucked me up.It was a spurt of the moment thing,she got stale.Like mouldy bread.You wouldve hated her too,that bitch."

Emily crawled out of bed then.Naked and sweaty all over,she kneeled down under the bed and hooked out the purse with her middle finger.She took out the object,the object that was meant for Tracy.Tracy stared at it for a while,a wave of confusion swept across her mascara covered face.She stammered,and as she kicked her way across the bed she fell off the edge and sprawled on the floor.

Emily circled around the bed now,the object still in her hand.Tracy screamed,and she screamed so loud then.But her voice was drowned out by the music below,the sound of party-goers struggling to melt into each other.She retreated into the corner then,helpess,and her arms over her face still screaming.

"You are wrong," Emily said between her teeth. "I loved her..."

"I loved her",were Sarah's last words in that hospital room,before Emily dashed down the hallway,with a handkerchief in her face.She tasted her tears,still salty,and her nose felt sour as she crashed through the doors of the stairwell and brokedown.

Emily was shattered,when Sarah smoothened her hair and wiped away her tears back in the room only minutes ago.The object was in her hands,and she told her she was grateful of her gift.But however precious it was,her love belonged to Tracy.Tracy,of all people,Tracy.

"Why?" Emily asked,still crying. "But why?"

"Because,love is destructive,as it is stupid."

"How is that possible,Sarah?You,of all people!You were strong!So strong!"

"Don't cheapen my love for her,Emily my dearest.You loved me,and i knew it.But my heart belongs to someone else,and that is something neither you,nor i can change.We all have our hearts to follow,dont we?"

"And what of this gift?" Emily said,pointed at the object,bewildered and eccentric now."Dont you remember?Dont you remember?"

"Let this be,the token of our parting my love.This is a fullstop,the end of a phase and the beginning of another,one i must walk alone and you should not follow."

"What are you talking about,Sarah?"

"I tried to kill myself for myself,and not anybody else.Because i knew,that there is only one place my love shall remain."

"What is love,when it is in that place then?"

"Eternity."



To be continued...

Emily Part II: Loathe Her, Loathe Love

The party already started.There were about ten people inside the dimly-lid room,with most of them already naked.The heater in the corner of the room quietly whirled,and compared to the rest of the house the room was like a flaming inferno,with bodies of passionate young couples wriggling around the bed and floor like snakes in a den.Smokes swirled in the air,clouding around the yellow ceiling light,creating an artificial sunset.A slow jazz music was playing in the background,a sudden change in the mood between this floor and the one below.It was as if Emily entered another world,one without any faults and full of redemptions.Already she was comfortable in her coat,but the object felt cold,as she felt it for the hundredth time today.

She recognised Tracy at the other end of her room,with a blonde haired girl's face between her legs.She was groaning softly at first,then her body stirred and wriggled,like that of a worm in the claws of a bird.Tracy had her fingers through those dirty blonde hair,so careless of the world and in absolute esctasy.She didnt notice Emily at first,but as she stepped through the door Tracy pushed the blonde hair girl away and embraced Emily,totally naked and her hair in disarray.She smiled,and Emily returned the friendly greeting.She took her hand out of her purse finally,and laid them on Tracy's bare butt.It was warm,and Tracy let out a soft yelp under the cold touch.She led Emily through the maze of naked bodies on the floor,and to the bed where she was.The blonde girl's name was Rachael,and the guy under Rachael was called Travis.Both of them were naked as well,and already there were condoms strewned around.

Emily whispered into Tracy's ears,and asked if they could go to somewhere more private than the room.It wasnt the smoke,the stench,or the people inside with their hands all over each other.She felt a certain guilt all of a sudden,pricking her skin like a dozen needles.The smoke surrounded her now,threatening to dye her skin black and poisoning her mind.It was an orgy,said Tracy.It's supposed to be like this.Emily smiled bashfully,and confessed it was her first time,and would like to start out slow.She lied,and deep down inside she knew.But Tracy and her friends chuckled softly under their already losing breaths,and agreed to let Emily go this time round,but only until midnight.

So the both of them,with Emily still fully clothed and Tracy naked,they walked hand in hand down the hallway and into her parents room,where they locked the door and Emily got undressed.The purse thrown to the other end of the room,and Emily worried if she's able to reach the object later on,but was distracted by Tracy as she stuck her tongue into Emily's mouth.A sudden electricity went through Emily's lips,the sensation so familiar yet distant that very moment on that very night.She trembled just a little,but ran her own fingers through Tracy's hair.She returned the favour,and the both of them blended into each other like snowmen in the summer sun,so passionate for each other and almost deadly,as they were slowly disintegrated by lust into the night.

The room was a little warmer than the hallways.The last hint of the afternoon sun sliced through the plain white curtains,now pulled over the glass windows.Next to the windows was the bed where Sarah was.Sarah's father was holding her left hand,where a tube entered her arm,and looked lifeless and dead all of a sudden.Emily walked up slowly to the bed,and before her was the ever beautiful Sarah.Her brunette her was then neatly tied up behind her head,and the ponytail laid carefully by her right shoulder.She was asleep then,and her face was whiter than white.If not for the constant beeping in the LCD she wouldve thought that Sarah already passed hours ago.

Yet despite the pale skin and frail face,the way the cheeks sank into her cheekbones and the purple veins under her shallow skin,she recognised Sarah,her Sarah.It was then,when she opened up her eyes and smiled.Those eys,still spelling a whole universe of beauty and beyond.But was somehow polluted by something,an emotions she couldnt put her finger on.Sadness,perhaps.Or regret.However weak it was,however tiring it seemed,Sarah's smile still brightened up the dark corners of Emily's heart like it always did.Her right arm reached out for Emily,and she took it in her palms.Her hand was cold,and Emily's heart frozen.It was heartbreaking,to see Sarah the way she was,lying on her bed on the verge of death.Hell,she smelt death the moment the tip of her fingers touched the handle to the room.The sight of Sarah only confirmed her own slow suicide,the dying of her heart deep down inside.

They asked to be alone,and her parents agreed.They left,and just as the door closed quietly behind them,the girls embraced like they never did,and never will again.She was physically thinner than before already,Emily thought.She felt her ribs at the sides,her back with her spine jutting out like little metal balls.Why,was the only question in Emily's head then.It didnt occur to her that Sarah,the strong Sarah,the courageous Sarah,the cheerful Sarah,would do such a thing to herself over another girl,over the bitch,that whore,that fucking Tracy,she thought.

"You are here..." whisphered Sarah into her ears. "I'm so glad..."

Emily smiled,but uttered nothing.She didnt know what to say then,perhaps still in shock over the person before her.The person whom she fell so deeply in love with and yet,went away with some other girl because Emily herself hadnt the guts to confess her affections.She figured that,like a caged bird,the only way to love the bird was to let her go,to set her free.But little did she know,that this bird fell into the arms of Tracy Maguire,the person who single handedly destroyed Sarah.Who indirectly fed her those pills that fateful night,who wrote her own name with Sarah's bloody finger on the letter,who dumped Sarah for a from the soccer team because she was tired of loving somebody of the same sex,tired of love,and tired of Sarah,who made her indifferent,an outcaste,a lesbian.She hated herself with Sarah,and most of all she hated Sarah,the strength in her,and the weaknesses it reflects in herself.

Tracy loathed love,and most of all loved Sarah as much as she loathed her...

To be continued...

Emily Part I: Contrasts

Emily didnt know what to expect,with the engine of her car rumbling softly,a stark contrast to the rock music pouring out from the front door.The crowd gathered,with plastic cups and beer bottles scattered all over the front lawn.She hestiated before she got out of the car,with the object in her purse still resting comfortably,still new to her shivering fingers.She wasnt used to the touch of it,and figured she's not going to forget it anytime soon,for it ends tonight.It ends tonight,she repeated over and over.

She took a deep breath then,the winter air filling up her lungs.There was a burning sensation,not from the freezing night air but the adrenaline rush in the heart.It was beating faster,she realised.Faster and more vigorous than usual.Why?She asked herself,as she made her way up the porch and into the already drunken crowd.It was just a party,she tried to convince herself.Sex doesnt make it any different.Not any different.Or does it?

Only twenty minutes before midnight and the crowd was already drowned in alcohol and dope.People vomited,while others collapsed on the steps up to the second floor.The music blared,if it was music at all that was coming out of those damn speakers.The carpet smelt like fresh puke and piss,with patches of spilled drinks here and there,all over.Emily made her way through the bodies,sound asleep on the steps and up to the second level where the secret party was supposed to be held.She thought about the invitation again,and the scene she expected herself to see after she entered the room.She's never been to such parties before,and wondered if it was the right thing to do.It wasnt the sex that tempted her to reach the doorstep,but was the reason why she arrived here tonight,the true motive?She dimissed the doubt,and opened the door to the room.

Emily didnt know what to expect,with the engine of her car rumbling loudly,a stark contrast to the serenity of the carpark before the hospital.It was quiet all around,and the early snow just started to fall days ago.Her mirrors were misty,but that was the way she liked it.She felt guilty for some reason,almost afraid to face her once again.She thought of the way the news pierced first her heart,then her mind.She fainted right then in school,halfway through assembly.She was excused for the rest of the day,one of the only two people absent from class that day,aside from Sarah,who was then lying in the middle of her bathroom,covered in her own vomit and sleeping pills scattered all over.She did not apologize for her absence,nor did she doubt her actions.She was merely in love,she wrote.A love nobody would ever understand.

She took a deep breath,and the freshness of the air calmed her as she entered the sliding doors.She never liked hospitals,she told herself.Despite the toupe-coloured hallways and the nurses,everywhere smelt of medication and death.Patients and family of patients,in the waiting room awaiting their fates and doom.Like her,in her soon to be death bed,with tubes sticking out of her arms and a mask over her face as Emily asked for the room number at the counter.Tears ran down her face,as she grasped her heart through the thick winter coats,and took her sadness into the corner of the lift,as it slowly made its way up the shaft.There was a burning sensation in her heart,not from the freezing winter air but the throbbing of her heart against her chest.She was afraid,almost petrified.She wasnt ready to face the picture,to accept that her worst fear came true finally.She touched the object in her purse,the touch still fresh to her numbed skin.It felt soft,and comforting all of a sudden,and before the door to her room Emily hesitated.

Up and down the corridor people rushed.It was strange how nobody noticed the turmoil that was going through her mind then.She felt the handle to the room,but dared not pushed it down.The cold pierced her pores and made their way up her veins and throughout her body.She felt her behind these doors,the death that awaits her ultimately at the end of the door.Her hands shook,and her heart was beating faster by the second.Still,she had the object,something she got for her as a present.She hadnt a script,not like the plays she did in school.The papers are blank,and she hadnt the faintest idea what to say to her later on.But she mustered the last trace of her courage,and got into the death-filled ICU...

To be continued...

West Side Tragedy

Finally,the second of the back-to-back outfield nightmare came to an end on Wednesday afternoon.The second outfield was relatively better than the first,considering the fact that the supposed OCs that led us were actually rookies,newbies right out of school or OCS.Basically,they probably knew as much as what the books thought them,or as far as their memories were willing to serve them.We were in supporting role,and these lieutenants were training to be future OCs of companies.So they needed troops to be their chess pieces,and since we were the supposed "best company" we "volunteered" ourselves for the mission.Of course,the word "Mission" was an attempt to make the outfield sound cool,but really it was a mess beyond your imagination.Just imagine a bunch of kindergarten kids trying to run Wall Street for six hours.

Anyway,as a sort of celebration Jonathan(The big one)and i went down to Jurong Point to get some bites on something,and at the same time get back what was stolen from me(Which i shall touch on later).As i was rather short of cash and Jonathan's account constantly under fifty dollars,we decided to head down to McDonald's for a simple meal,which was a rather interesting experience just witnessing the life in the West side of Singapore,something that is radically different from the Central/East where i come from.

Now,from a foreigner's point of view Singaporeans are Singaporeans.There arent much different whether you live in the North,South,East,West,or a can of Sardines with "Made in Singapore" printed all over.The truth is,people from other countries dont see the difference between the type of people that reside in different parts of Singapore.Here's a little breakdown,or rather my own personal observation of things.

I've been living in the East all my life in Singapore.And to tell you the truth i prefer this part of Singapore from any other parts,despite the constant coverage of that damn cloud in Google Earth,blocking my house from the satellite's view.But oh well,all and all it is easy to get around.Town is about twenty minutes away,and that is pretty much everything i need to know around here.It's like the ultimate survival kit,really.With the knowledge of town within twenty minutes of your house you can build a palace in this desolated part of the island.Any,island.Really.

So on Wednesday night as we were munching on our McSpicy and Big Mac,we were just looking around at people(Not just females,mind you),we discovered a sort of...tragedy,you might say,about the people of the West.

You see,for some reason the people of the west seems to be rather...they all look like they are in a certain sort of daze.It's like sometime between their puberty and adulthood they go to this community centre to get their heads whacked by a baseball bat or something.Because they have the worst fashion sense,like ever.Im not saying i am this fascion guru,soon-to-be chief of runway type of person.Because seriously,i wear the most casual clothes out there.But at least i am presentable,and i dont cause a racket in public.In the lines at McDonald's it is not hard to spot Hill Billies,Red-Necks,or the so-called uncivilised population of Singapore.

They are not difficult to spot.A simple singlet,fading jeans and slippers.Their hair were usually dyed about fifteen million years ago,with the roots pure black and the rest a dirty blonde.For the females,old women bra straps hanging out and almost slipping down their shoulders and for the men,bellies hanging out the front of the shorts like water bags.The way they speak is rather easy to spot as well.They usually speak in strange accent,which makes them either chinese workers,chinese tourists,under-educated,or simply retarded.I opt for the last one.

A woman sitting behind us was one of the most pathetic looking woman i have ever seen.She was about 200 kilograms overweight,hair in disarray,sagging on the chair like a rice bag and chewing on her already depleted chicken wing.Hell,she was even having a friendly chat with a janitor at McDonald's.It's okay to be friendly sure,but she clearly were friends with that janitor.Who the hell are friends with janitors at McDonald's?She probably visits there twice a day,with breakfast time spent in bed sleeping the day off.She simply stares into deep space most of the time,and you wonder if something is ever going to pop up in that head of hers.I was on the verge of calling the ambulance,because her ass mightve been stuck on the chair,who knows?

At my eleven o'clock,there was a guy sitting alone eating his stuff.Sure,there is nothing wrong with eating fast food alone,because i do that all the time.But he was sitting facing the glass wall,alone.Now,if that sight didnt look strange to you i wonder what you are going to think when you see a three-eyed transexual.It was just a sad sight i guess,to see somebody eating while facing the wall.It's like being sent to the corner of the classroom to 'review' your mistakes in silence by your teacher.It's rather humiliating isnt it?And the funniest thing,or rather the saddest thing,is that this humiliation was inflicted by himself.

Next,let's not be biased about schools because i am sure there are brilliance everywhere.Neighbourhood or not.But i am speaking about the school uniforms the people in the west are wearing.Now,i have to defend Cedar,despite all the buses they hijacked in my school days,and all the horrors i got from my sister over my lifetime.Cedar truly has one of the best looking uniforms out there in Singapore.I mean,how many schools do you know,that actually has a blue and gray uniform,and actually looking good in it.I always tell my friends that the best part of the uniform are the buttons,but oh well that is besides the point.

A certain secondary school in the west decided to copy the style and do a little 'improvement' on the design.I remember only a couple of months ago while i was out at JP doing some random shopping,i saw a boy wearing that uniform and thought Cedar changed to a mixed school without my knowledge.It turned out that he was a different secondary school,only with badly designed uniforms.Let's face it,that colour combination doesnt look good on boys,and certain not when you are trying to imitate one of the greatest school uniforms around.It's like somebody from Singapore Idol trying to do Sinatra.They might as well fart and be done with it.

So,the conclusion is that it is such a sad thing to be living in the West.True,the Universities are just a few bus stops away and it is not difficult to reach your workplace if you work in Jurong or Tuas.But let's face it,i'd rather live elsewhere than in the West.The west is like this retirement home for the people in the east,and it is sad to see these people disintegrate like that with their age.

Ink

Come on now, don't you want to know?
You're a refuge, somewhere I can go
You're air that, air that I can breathe
Cause you're my golden opportunity

It's always a degree or two too low in this place.Strange,considering the number of people crowded in that place every afternoon,with the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows,it's rather weird to have such a cold atmosphere all around.I hated that place,i remember myself thinking.I hated the coldness of that library.And not just the library,but the whole school.I didnt connect,i didnt relate,me with such an EQ saying such a thing.It has got to mean something.

It felt the same,as any other day in the library.The disc in my discman softly whirled,my sweater wasnt keeping me warm.It wasnt the air-conditioning perhaps,but rather the freezing feeling from the inside,piercing its way out like frost burn.The words didnt mean anything,the way they converged at the centre of the page.There was a whirlpool,or like an oceanic trench in the middle of the book.The words were like tiny boats dragged towards the darkness.They kept flowing in,kept drifting off,till there was nothing left at all.

Then she came,skipping throughh the shelves of books and slapped me so hard on the back i swear the life went out of me for a split second.It was her way of saying "Hello",aside from the times when i am more commonly known as "Bitch".When she was around,i remember,things werent as bleak as before.It was fun,it was interesting.It was like a ship to Titanic's rescue,at the end of the horizon.It felt good,just sitting across the table from each other,or laughing the day off till our sides ached.

Come on now, don't you want to see?
Just what a difference you've made in me
I'll be waiting oh no matter what you say
Cause I've been waiting for days, days, days

Let's face it,and you are probably not going to admit it.Upon learning about necessities in Economics,guess the people who knew/knows you automatically classified you under that category.In a way you've kept us warm like coat in a blazing storm,a good book on a rainy day,a cup of coffee when your eyes fail to remain opened,a friend through the times of utter self-destruction.You were there,like shampoo after outfield,like Coldplay to my ears,and so many other things.You mean so much to so many different people.So much so,that i dont think anybody(Not even Samantha)is capable of coming up with words,worthy enough to describe you.Nothing will do you justice,not in the Oxford or Longman,or any art in the Louvre.As priceless as those pieces,you are so much more.

I succumbed to your insistence,and reached out my left hand.I couldnt concentrate on my papers,distracted by the scratching of the tip of your pen upon the back of my hand.I didnt look,i guess i didnt dare to.The vandalism of my hand,i thought to myself.Just what the hell was i thinking?

It was done,you little piece of art.You beamed with your usual cheerfulness,and urged me to admire your drawing.It was my name,in dark blue ink and beautiful.Only,it was spelled wrongly,and i didnt have the heart to correct you(Initially).

So i was stuck with that name ever since,and that 'tattoo' for a day or two.I didnt want to wash away the drawing that night,i remember.It was like the feeling after you've shook hands with your favourite singer at a concert.That feeling,sort of electricity that runs through the tip of your fingers as you guys made contact.You wanted to retain that feeling,i wanted to keep that sensation.It was so wrong,no matter which direction i read my name from.The "G" at the end was distracting,and the fact that it didnt have an "E" in the middle of "I" and "N" was funny too,but i didnt wash it off.I thought it was funny,a little reminder than in this world,in this school,there is somebody out there the same as i was,and i was glad.Comforted,by that fact.

If the sky's gonna fall down, let it fall on me
If you're gonna break down, you can break on me
If the sky's gonna fall down, let it fall on me
If it's gonna rain down, it can rain on me
It can rain on me

Years afterwards,as bus 133 rumbled down Upper Serangoon Road,and the back of you walking away from the exit,with that slick new hair of yours,i opened the letter you wrote to me,accompanied by the Kinokuniya voucher.It was your same untidy handwriting,and the end of the first sentence you spelt my name wrong,again.I know,it was deliberate,but still it brought a smile to my face despite the old man staring at my face,confused.

I was at the back of the bus then.But really,i was at the back of the library.My left arm was outstretched,and the same sensation came back to the back of it.It wasnt cold anymore,and everybody in the library vanished with the world all around.It was just you,always you,and the ink on the back of my hand.

I cannot thank you enough,i dont think i am capable of that.No matter how good a writer i am,or will be,i dont think any language can do you justice as a person,as a friend,and most of all as a bitch.Im bad with words,i really am.I have no gratitude,i have no idea how to show them.I take refuge in my blog,like a scared little dog wanting to thank a stranger for a box of leftover dinner,but too afraid to do so.

But here,with my honest words and reading your advice about sharing,here i am in yet another air-conditioned room,playing a Coldplay song reminding me of you,and the letter sitting next to my hand,with my true words i thank you for being such a fantastic person,and so much so much more than that.

You, Complete Me

"...Hello,hello?I'm looking for my wife.

Great,okay.Okay.If this is where it has to happen then this is where it has to happen.I'm not letting you get rid of me,how about that?

This used to be my specialty,you know?I was good in the livingroom,they send me in there,i do it alone.And now i just...But tonight,our little project,our company?Had a very big night.A very,very big night.

But it wasnt complete,it wasnt nearly close to being in the same vicinity of complete.Because i couldnt share it with you.I couldnt hear your voice,or laugh about it with you.

I'm just...i miss my wife.We live in a cynical world.A cynical world.And we work in a business of tough competitors.

I love you.

You,complete me..."

An Ambition

Upon recieving the SMS message from Kwan this afternoon that Borders is having a 20% off sale(20 BLOODY PERCENT!),i was troubled with what books to buy next.I have four books at hand,and reading one of them right now(Life of Pi seems very promising),i am running out of books.But i didnt know what else to buy,not at that time anyway.So i consulted the internet,and found myself looking upon the Top 100 Greatest Novel list,compiled by Times Magazine over the last century.

To my horror,i did a little math as i read through the list.I've only read eight out of the one hundred books listed.That was really daunting initially,but then again i thought about the number of books actually OUT THERE,and felt consoled.Here's a list of what i have red from that list of books:

1.Animal Farm by George Orwell
2.The Day of the Locust by Nathaniel West
3.The Great Gatsby by F.Scott Fitzgerald
4.The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S.Lewis
5.The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R.Tolkien(Though technically speaking,it consists of three books)
6.Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
7.1984 by George Orwell
8.To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

So at that very moment,i made up my mind to read ALL THE BOOKS on that list by the time i am officially dead.I know,i have read the 1001 books to read before you are dead,but rationally speaking that is rather impossible,considering my reading speed and the amount of time i have devoted to doing so.100 seems like a rather comprehensive number,and i am going to stick to it till the day i die(That last sentence sounded rather strange,like a marriage or something).

Anyway,so i got myself down to town straight away and got my hunting gears(Paper with titles scribbled all over)on.Ploughed through the people and shelves at Borders and got my hands on a couple of books(And one not mentioned,but looked really interesting)off the list.Here's what i got from my shopping spree today:

1.Possession by A.S.Byatt
2.The Catcher in the Rye by J.D.Salinger
3.One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
4.The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje (Not in the top 100 list)
5.Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Cant wait to start diving into those pages.Im all hyped up about these books.Go geek,go me!
8.

That Obscure Object of Desire

"...Allow me to anachronism. Luis Bunuel's That Obscure Object of Desire didnt come out until 1977. By that time the redheaded girl and I were no longer in touch. I doubt she ever saw the movie. Nevertheless, That Obscure Object of Desire is what I think about when I think about her. I saw it on television, in a Spanish bar, when I was stationed in Madrid. I didn't catch most of the dialogue. The plot was clear enough, though. An older gentleman played by Fernando Rey is smitten with a young and beautiful girl played by Carole Bouquet and Angela Molina. I didn't care about any of that. It was the surrealist touch that got me. In many scenes Fernando Rey is shown holding a heavy sack over his shoulder. The reason for this sack is never mentioned. (Or if it is, I missed that, too.) He just goes around lugging this sak, into restaurants and through city parks. That was exactly how I felt, following my own Obscure Object. As though I were carrying around a mysterious, unexplained burden or weight. I'm going to call her that, if you don't mind. I'm going to call her the Obscure Object. For sentimental reasons. (I also have to protect her identity.)..."

"...I'd never been this close to the Obscure Object before. It was hard on my organism. My nervous system launched into "Flight of the Bumblebee." The violins were sawing away my spine. The timpani were banging in my chest. At the same time, trying to conceal all this, I didn't move a muscle. I hardly breathed. That was the deal basically: catatonia without; frenzy within.

I could smell her cinnamon gum. It was still in the back of her mouth somewhere. I didn't look directly at her. I kept my own eyes on the book. A strand of her red-gold hair fell onto the desk between us. Where the sun hit the hair, there was a prismatic effect. But while I was witnessing the half-inch rainbow she began to read.

I expected a nasal monotone, riddled with mispronounciations. I expected bumps, swerves, screeching brakes, head-on collisions. But the Obscure Object had a good reading voice. It was clear, strong, supple in its rhythms. It was a voice she'd picked up at home, from poetry-reciting uncles who drank too much. Her expression changed, too. A concentrated dignity, previously absent, marked her features. Her head rose on a proud neck. Her chin was lifted. She sounded twenty-four instead of fourteen. I wonder which was stranger, the Eartha Kitt voice that came out of my mouth or the Katharine Hepburn that came out of hers.

When she finished there was silence. "Thank You," said Mr. da Silva, as surprised as the rest of us. "That was very nicely done."

The bell rang. Immediately the Object leaned away from me. She ran a hand through her hair again, as though rinsing it in the shower. She slipped out of the desk and left the room.

On certain days, when the greenhouse was lit just so and the Obscure Object's blouse unbuttoned two buttons, when the light illuminated the scapulars dangling between the cups of her brassiere, did Calliope feel any inkling of her true biological nature? Did she ever, while the Obscure Object passed in the hall, think that what she was feeling was wrong...?"

--- Chapter 7: The Obscure Object of Book Three, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

When the Ramp Falls

Speaking of outfields and the unbearable heat all around Singapore(In fact,the world),i think it is only fair to give everybody a glimpse of what happens in a M113,under such extreme conditions.I know it's not like we travel through terrains with frozen ice caps,or sand dunes with rocks at a boiling 80 degrees,but i guess since i am probably never going to get anywhere close to the above mentioned weather conditions,this is as good(or bad)as it is going to get.

One thing i loved about Indian outfields is the fact that you never sweat during Indian outfields.I guess part of the whole reason why i hate outfields so much is realy because of the discomfort it causes,the way your sweat soaks up your uniform,and the way it makes your skin itches,when it gets into your eye,and when everything just feels so fucking disgusting.That's what the Singaporean outfield provides,endless discomfort and disgust.I'd like to see that in an advertisement one day though.You know one of those advertisement from Singapore Tourism Board,showing Merlion at Singapore River spurting water or children having a good time at the Siloso,or a bunch of teenage girls carrying bags of harvest from Zara down at Orchard.Next scene: Hot sweaty solders crawling through bushes in Singapore and getting mosquito bites all over and smelling like rusty garbage bags!

Anyway,i'd like to take you to a place where you'd probably not enter.Im speaking to the ladies of course,since all guys go to NS.You are at the back of a M113,and the ramp is closed.You dont really know what to expect,which is understandable since the discomfort of NS is highly classified.It's top secret in NS.because the government probably wants parents to think that their sons are in good hands,not.So the ramp opens,and time stops ticking.There is a sudden break,and you find yourself looking into the vehicle,horrified.

This is a typical scene in a M113,stopped in time or not.Eleven twenty-something men crowded into this hot,squeezy vehicles like tunas in a can.The bench is made of metal,with the top of the hatch opened and four men standing up there.Sun pours in through that,and heating up the benches and making them feel like oven grills.With our asses baking on top of those,the smell is already excruciating,and that is not even taking into consideration the sweat that accumulates over the past three days or so.

With our shoulders to shoulders,knees to knees,we are squeezed up next each other in absolute discomfort.The remainder of the spaces left in the vehicle is taken up bby weapons,just leaning against the sides and waiting for a jerk of the vehicle to send it crashing into somebody's knee cap.That is usually followed by a loud scream and something vulgar,then everybody would accuse the owner of that weapon and swear somemore.

In one corner you have the food,the drinks,the things you need to survive when it comes to your diet.You'd probably see a bag of trash in one corner,with disgusting looking 'food juice' smeared all over,and flies attacking the half rotten leftovers.It'd be a much more interesting sight if it rained though.Mud chokes the bottom of the vehicle,with rainwater overflowing the floorboards,and the seats covered in mud.The men's pants are soaked with the same muddy liquid and into their underpants,and of course whenever the standing personel decides to climb above,chunks of mud will comes sailing through the air and into your hair.

All in all,fucked up.

So i'd really like the Singapore Armed Forces to include such scenes and information into the next Singapore National Anthem Music Video shown every morning at 6am.Im not the type of patriotic person,crying over a flying national flag,or thinking about how our forefathers managed to build a city out of nothing,yada yada.You might argue that i am not a Singaporean,and therefore i will never understand the hype around national day parades.But then again,i dont even see myself getting hyped up about Taiwan's independence day.In fact,i dont think there are a lot of country more crazy over the nation's birthday than Singapore.What is a 'Nation',anyway?It's not even a living,breathing human being.And whoever thought of the "Let's all hang falgs of our country outside the windows" idea?Sounds rather Japanese to me,the way they forced people to hang the flag of the rising sun when they were in town about sixty years ago.

So yeah,let's save the laughing faces,the people doing Taichi,the kids flying kites and working adults discussing some financial schemes that could potentially boose the company,and indirectly the country's economy.Let's save all that,and insert the scene from a m113,and see the patriotic level of Singapore go into a landslide on the "Love Singapore" scale.

Dont get me wrong,i do like Singapore despite the weather.But really,i just hate the M113 and the propaganda.Not really the lies the government tells,but rather the things that they dont.When the ramp falls,everything goes.

Square Two

Is there anybody out there who
Is lost and hurt and lonely too
Are they bleeding all your colours into one?
And if you come undone

As if you've been run through
Some catapult it fired you
You wonder if your chance will ever come
Or if you're stuck in square one...

I think it was Sunday night,or was it Monday night when Kenneth Kwan and myself had one of those after-lights-off-and-in-the-dark conversations,like the days back in Tekong when Adrian used to drag his mattress to the side of my bed,and we'd talk about anything under the sun quietly into the night,as Varun snored soundly away next to us.The so-called "D&Ms",between the two bald guys as the world fell slowly away into slumber.

Anyway,i dont remember what we were talking about exactly,but i vaguely remember the argument between Father Abraham and Abraham Lincoln.Now,his argument is that whenever the name "Abraham" comes up,the first person that comes to one's mind would be "Father Abraham",from the Bible.But i think people would think of "Abraham Lincoln" first,since he is more real and recent.Besides,there is no ACTUAL proof that Father Abraham actually existed,right.I mean,it really depends on your faith and stuff.

Oh well,that conversation about the Abrahams in history (Which later included if Wei Jie had an obsession with girls in JC and his own infatuation over Kiera Knightly and Natalie Portman)spunned wildly out of control as he popped the question regarding girlfriends.

I cant even start to imagine how the topic of girls actually occured between Yuan Tong and himself in the first place.Im not sure about Yuan Tong,but in my opinion the love of Kenneth Kwan's life revolves around fictional character of books,or the book itself.The closest thhing to a human lover is probably the two actresses mentioned above.Really,the thought of Kenneth Kwan ever discussing with me on the issue of girlfriends never occured to me,like ever.

Anyway,seems like a couple of friends have been getting attached,and because of that the singles,or only-recently detached friends feel rather screwed up nowadays.I guess this entry,in a way,is my comfort to all who feels that the space next to yours in your bed needs some urgent filling,or perhaps you want to feel that exploding phone bills is actually a justified thing all over again.This entry is for you people out there who wishes to have a girl/boyfriend right now,just tired of singlehood.

I was telling him about "My Date with Drew" actually,the little documentary i mentioned in the "Six Degrees of Separation" entry,comforting him that he is actually not too far from Kiera Knightly,or Natalie Portman(Just six people away!).Anyway,he thinks that the main "character" of the documentary is rather pathetic,in the sense that after he actually dates Drew Barrymore,what happens?I mean,he doesnt gain anything out of it,strictly speaking.He's still the same person working for E! News at a lous desk job,so what changed after he dated Drew Barrymore?

Despite claiming fame for strange ideas and opinions(He enjoyed reading Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex,rated it 8/10 and lated claimed that it sucked),i rather agreed with his point on how pointless the whole "I want to date Drew Barrymore" thing was.I mean,just think about it.He made that documentary,got famous,and that's that.Right?

He was asking me,what really is the point of getting a girlfriend.As a person who doesnt have one at that very moment,i couldnt exactly answer him,with absolute truth and accuracy.I couldve tried sure,but the answer wouldnt have been right i guess.I just told him about what my friends said about it,how you gain from it and stuff.But so what?He asked.And yeah,i thought.So what?

Im speaking from a male's point of view of course,and i think all males have this in-built thirst for women.Not ALL women,but there is this sort of endless quest for the woman he loves once he is single,like the search for El Dorado or something.There's this fear of being single,i guess.Like one of the first few scenes in Jerry Maguire,when Jerry watches a video made for him on his bachelor party.His ex-girlfriends making fun of him,saying that "He cannot be alone",and "He is great at friendships but sucks at intimacy".I guess it is true,that men are desperate to have somebody by his side,but never really the brain to keep them there.It's like all the tricksy stuff they pulled out their sleeves while trying to get her came from their balls,and whatever that came out(or didnt come out)after they are officially in the relationship came from nowhere at all.

This was Kwan's question: What comes after you guys are together?Let's look at it this way,what happens when you and somebody else is attached?You guys have dinner,a movie,a little chat by the beach or in a Mexican restaurant,or visiting each others' houses and meeting the folks.What comes after those things,then?Are those things going to go round and round in this endless cycle until "Death do us part"?Or are you going to spin out of that circle to...where?It's so hard to imagine the variety,the things that are possible between a couple,something that can be done to satisfy both partis equally.

I know ultimately it all comes down to compromises,but isnt it sad to know that love doesnt last but only each other?I tried to argue that it depends on your view on relationships.There are really three types of outlook to them actually.Perhaps more,but then again there are only three i can think of right now at 130am.

The first is really the serious sort of outlook on relationships.It all depends on the kind of things the both of you want from each other from a relationship.Is it somebody there when you are down,depressed,when you simply need somebody?That intimacy with somebody,to be loved and be loved and those muchy-shitty stuff.Yeah,some people do go that distance when looking for a partner in that relationship.Yeah,a partner.That's the word to use.A partner in life,and they look at relationships as a sort of test,and the ultimate goal is marriage,life and then death.It might seem a little daunting now,reading about this and thinking "Wow,my boyfriend might be this sort of committed freak!".But really,i think the world of couples lack this sort of people,which explains the rising rate of divorce.

The next type is really the Yap Jun Lek type of relationship outlooks.Or rather,the Bapoh-lisation.Let's not make any character judgement here,but with a bad track record i dont think guy,in any way,has a serious outlook on anything at all.His shortest relationship was under 24 hours,and i guess that explains a lot on how little he thinks about commitments,about intimacy(Which is really sex,in his dictionary.Wait,what dictionary?),about so many other things that come with with the virginity of love.I think that there are a lot of people,almost too many people out there who just want to have take a shot at a relationship,see how it is like feeling the breasts of a girl,of girls,of getting into their pants and leaving them in an old hotel and a used condom.It might all sound too raw now,but these things happen.They really do,only too often.

The last type is the sort which sort of...see dark clouds all over the horizon.Like the first type of relationship go-ers they are looking for a sort of support in their lives as well,this pillar to lean on when all else comes crumbling down.But they dont really know what this sort of "Man and Pillar" relationship is going to go on.It just sounds rather temporary in a way,a sort of relationhip that never really lasts anywhere more than a year or two(That's YOU,Wan Jun).

So we started off with square one.Boy meets girl.Boy likes girl.Boy draws up a plan for girl.Boy chases girl.Girl likes boy.Boy succeeds,boy asks girl.Girl agrees to boy's confession.Boy loves girl.Girl loves boy.Boy is together with girl.Boy doesnt know what the hell to do next.

It's like a board game,and you start off with square one.But halfway through the game you dont really know the point of it all.In Monopoly it's really to get as much money as possible,right.To have the most land,the most hotels and the most cash.But in this board game of uncertainty i guess people are just no quite sure where they are going.So they are stuck in square two,after all the efforts they have put in to get thus far.It's such a waste,dont you think so?

I dont think i have an answer to his question,of what comes next after being attached.I guess that is why i dont/wont make a great partner.Like Jerry,i might just be the sort that is a great friend but a sucker at intimacies.Who knows,i might remain this way till "Death do me and nobody else part".I guess it all depends on how you accept things as the way it is,and not expecting much out of it.Like the old saying,with no expectations comes no disappointments.I think that quote is brilliant.

The Five Senses of Freedom

It's that part of the army life again.Yes,ladies and gentlemen,we have now come to that part,when outfields come non-stop with no time left in between for breath now.Two back to back outfields this week and the next under the painful(Yes,i am using the word "Painful")sun,i doubted my own ability to hold on.Seriously,even the strongest tree wither under the hottest sun.Like Chris Martin said when he first had a tour with Travis in Singapore a couple of years ago,it IS bloody hot here.Somebody should build some giant rockets at East Coast and blast our way towards the North Pole.It'd probably be a failing effort,but at least it was a try to make the weather less fucked up.

Anyway,so in an attempt to comfort the men about the outfields,OC described the length of the two years in the army as a sort of run.Take the 2.4km run in IPPTs as an analogy,and the starting line is when you are in BMT.Slowly you go round and round around the tracks and soon enough,you are where you are now.I am where i am now.One year and seven months i have survived something,which i was so sure im gonna die from before i got in here.In a way,i guess you can say that i am proud to have finished whatever that i have finished,accomplished whatever i have accomplished.Five rounds down and perhaps a round to go,and now is crunch time.Now is the time,according to OC,to really put in more effort,to push that extra mile and use that last strength and breath to complete the whole run within time,because by the end of this run when you cross the finish line,with the timer yelling "Up" at the sideline,you are going to be a whole new person entire.

Of course,that paragraph above was not quoted.It was what he MEANT,but not necessarily what he actually said.It was of course,simplified and less lyrical,but i guess i prefered to spice things up,and at the same time make him sound ten times more intellectual(Haha).He's a nice guy,really.But just not in the conventional sort of way,i guess.

Anyway,speaking of putting running the 2.4 as an analogy to the NS life,i thought of the sense of freedom.It is a little less than five months away now,and i am starting to think about all the things i can potentially do with myself and my life afterwards.There's the driving license that i might try my hands on,the school that i might try to enter,the round-Europe trip that i am definitely going to embark on(Passengers,anyone?),and of course the endless books that i am going to plough my way through.So many things,just waiting for this chapter to end and the other to begin.It's like the climax of a book,just waiting for the boring introduction to end,so that it can begin proper.I figured that if we are going to reach the finish line soon enough,i broke down the part of our sense that is going to sense it first.

First of course comes,sight.Imagine yourself running your guts out on the track under blazing hot sun(It sucks to have the sun always blazing,when typing a blog entry in Singapore).Now,you are dashing for the finish line,just past the fifth round and starting on the last.You are within timing,great pacing,and as your pacer yelled your timing you looked across the field at the eventual finish line.Already in sight,you thought.Already in sight.

Then comes hearing.You hear your sergeants at the finish line cheering,and your platoon mates probably yelling out your timing,asking you to broaden your steps because you are just going to make it but not quite.You opened up your steps,and the cheerings are getting louder and louder.The end is coming,and you can hear it as the grand stand comes closer.It's close now,you thought.It's close.

The next is the sense of smell probably.Imagine you are like the WORST runner in the platoon when you first entered army.With everybody else getting Gold and Silver,a weakling like yourself probably never thought of making it past the third round alive.But right now,you are on your fifth and making great time,and to celebrate your possible victory over yourself,everybody bought you this delicious cake,now placed on the table at the end of the finish line,with candles already lighted,awaiting your arrival.You are now at the last stretch,with 100m left to go.The smell of the cake is just there,floating down the tracks and tempting your nostrils.Your pace quickened,and everybody went wild.

You crossed the finish line,the timer yelled out your time.You passed!And everybody rushed down the stairs to celebrate.You were thrown into the air,with everybody below you like springs under the mattress.You didnt mind being tossed around,nor did you mind the cake thrown in your face later on.Because the cake was sweet,and the finishing line under your feet.You completed the initially unthinkable.You conquer,yourself.Freedom tastes so beautifully sweet.

Now at the end of the journey,you last sense kicks in.To feel freedom in its entirety.To truly understand the beauty of freedom,you kissed the tracks.And as the hot ground made contact with your dry lips,the heat surged through your body like an adrenaline rush and up through your whole body like a cool breeze in a hot day,or a realization that you already accomplished something.This something,is freedom.You are submerged in freedom now,and right then in that moment,you are free.

I guess right now i am probably smelling the cake,just 100ms down the track,and so near to the finish line.I am THAT close,but the fucked up part is that i have so many things in between to finish off.I know that i am probably going to reach the destination without me actually doing anything,but i guess i want myself to know,that by the end of this race with myself i am going to be somebody totally different from where i started.Like so many people that helped to shape and changed my life,the person i am today,i guess NS has its own magical(Though mundane)way of changing me,and i am and probably will be,glad that it did whatever i did.

A couple of more outfields,and few more months,and i will be tasting and feeling freedom.The circle shall be complete,and a whole new cycle of senses shall behold me,when i embark on the next phase of my life.But this time i wont be sweating my heart out and jogging on the verge of death,but rather with a grin on my face and the confidence the world has never witnessed.

Middlesex

"...On Middlesex, I remained in the front doorway. I took my duty seriously and didn't budge, despite the freezing wind. Milton, the child apostate, would have been confirmed in his skepticism, because his spirit never returned that day, trying to get past me. The mulberry tree had no leaves. The wind swept over the crushed snow into my Byzantine face, which was the face of my grandfather and of the American girl I had once been. I stood in the door for an hour, maybe two. I lost track after a while, happy to be home, weeping for my father, and thinking about what was next..."

--- Calliope "Cal" Stephanides, from Chapter 7: The Last Stop of Book Four, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

Just Nothing

I've ran out of things to blog about as of late.And by "As of late" i am refering to the past few hours.I mean,you do have to consider how frequent i visit my own blog to talk about a thing or two.Something ticked me off the other day,but then again i thought better of it.I didnt want to seem like this sulking son bitching about his mother's strange decisions at certain things.It wasnt intentional,but it pissed me off sure.But halfway through that post i sort of realised that nothing feels better than that draining feeling after being all pissed off about something,the feeling something drains out of you and you just lie on your bed all exhausted and tired.

Anyway,perhaps it's the decision left unmade.Yes,ladies and gentlemen.Aside from the title that i already have (Cpt. Backfire),i guess you guys can start calling me Mr. Fickle as well.Because really,i havent come up with a decision as to...well,you know.Yet.But i guess the indecision IS a sort of decision somehow,right?It's like all the efforts to make that choice has drained all the energy out of me to think of anything else.Or rather,nothing else matters more than this little option.

So the point of this post really is rather pointless(I actually typed a whole chunk of material after that last fullstop,and decided against it because it was quite stupid,really).

All right,an update.I have been practically locked up in room for the past 48 hours or so.That's because my grandmother is still hanging around our house.It's just strange that a bunch of my relatives would visit Singapore with my grandmother,and leave her here with my family and go on out and have some fun.Im not sure if this is her idea of "holiday",or really because i have a bunch of irresponsible relatives(I tend to believe the latter),but if you are afraid that this old lady is going to slow you down on your shopping trips then DONT even bring her along.It's not right,to bring somebody on an overseas holiday trip like that and leave her somewhere while you guys go hang out around town.

My mother argued that she just wanted to see how my father is doing here in Singapore.Now mom,that's just stupid.My dad spends more than two hundred days(Statistically proven)in Taiwan alone.I dont think she needs to come all the way over here just to check up on him,because HE SLEEPS AT HER PLACE IN TAIWAN.So yes,it doesnt add up and it doesnt make sense.

Ive been in house arrest ever since Friday when i came home from the 10km run,discovering my grandmother at the dining table having dinner.I mean,it's not like i didnt expect her or anything,but you know how it is rather different seeing the real deal.

I guess my relatives are just a bunch of rich pricks,really.A bunch of them are millionaires owning a couple of gas stations all over Taiwan,and not to mention how most of them are just spoilt dickheads altogether.I guess in a way moving to Singapore and drawing a line between myself and then is a good thing after all.Let's face it,i dont think i am going to be,in any way,as good a person as i am now if i stayed over there.One thing's for sure though,i dont think i'd bring my grandmother overseas and throw her in some poor relative's house.

Proof

So I waited for you
What wouldn't I do
And I'm covered it's true
I'm covered in you

And if I ever want proof
I find it in you
Yeah I honestly do
In you I find proof

Light and dark
Bright spark
Light and dark
And then light

So I waited all day
What wouldn't I say
And are there things in YOUR way
Things happen that way

Oh and if I ever want proof
Then I find it in you
Oh, yeah I honestly do
In you I find proof

Light and dark
Bright spark
Light and dark
And then light

Light, light, light, light

Missed Call

In the middle of this strange Friday night,or rather Saturday morning,i had this rather rare emotional conversation with Corinna.I mean,it's not like we dont usually speak of such topics,but i found myself in one of those positions,when i pour myself out like a helpless hour glass,giving away the sand it owns to gravity,flowing down this narrow opening in the center.I simply gave myself away,like this weak doll in the arms of a little girl,this dying dog by the side of the road,simply helpless.

Like all conversations seem to lead to nowadays,it ultimately led to her once more.Of course,"Proof" by Coldplay in the background sure didnt help my decision making.Because truly,i was in dire need of a decision right away.I told myself,that this is it.If i dont do it by Friday night,im never going to do it again.But delays and more delays,set by myself and no other,it pissed me off that i havent the will i thought i had inside of me.You know,that frustration.Yeah,that's it.It rips you apart.

Let's do a run down on the things i actually had to do during the concert.First of all,i had the camera with me of course.Which means,i had to take photographs of whatever that was happening.Then there are the eyes,which i chose to be the main focus of the concert,in terms of the favoured equipement to capture the moments.Then there are the songs played by my favourite band,and i had to remember the lyrics and sing along with them.Then there are the phone calls,the phone call i made to my not-so-fortunate friends,who werent able to attend the concert this Monday at Indoor Stadium to catch Coldplay.

I tried to call a bunch of people,including Yilin during her favourite song "Yellow".But she hung up,because she thought it was a prank call.Later on,she realised that it was ME who called,and became a suicidal lunatic because she missed the chance to catch Chris Martin sing Yellow live.I tried calling Corinna then too,but she didnt pick that up as well.But i called her later on during the last song,right before "Fix You",so i guess that was okay.I called JiaYing during "Swallow in the Sea",because after all she has been using that same nickname for decades.I figured if that is not her favourite song i dont know what is.

Then,i did the unthinkable halfway through the concert.

I was sitting there when the lights when out for the previous song.Adrenaline still rushing through my veins like a runaway train,still pumped about the previous track(God Put a Smile Upon Your Face),and then the piano came on.A single spotlight came on,and it directed it's focus on Chris Martin,as he sat before the piano alone.The audience cheered,but soon quietened down into a soft murmur,as Chris Martin started playing "The Scientist".It rang a bell,something other than the tune and the lyrics of course.I remembered somebody liking the song,and it was a vague memory but i knew i had to call somebody.

So,i dialed her number.I was questioning myself,debating if i should call or not.And before i came to a conclusive answer,my handphone was already in my hand with her number flashing across the screen.I called her number,and because it was too loud to hear i didnt wait to see if she picked up or not.I put the phone as close to the stage as possible,almost reaching out to Chris' piano,and the song went on.

It stopped,and i hung up.I didnt say anything,nor did i hear her say anything.It was just Chris Martin,and her favourite Coldplay song,and whatever i wanted to say to her,all beautifully woven into that very moment in time.I wasnt sure if she heard it,but deep in my heart,as i desperately tried to forget that anxiousness by jumping up and down in front of my seat to the rest of the concert,i deeply wanted her to hear it.Not just because it was her favourite song done live,but because at that moment,it was what i really wanted to say.What i really wanted her to do,what i wanted to do.

"Oh,let's go back to the start..."

After sending out a message asking if she recieved a phone call,i wonder if it was all yet another stupid act of mine.I felt like this really dumb playwright,writing the most ridiculous plays for the public to watch.I felt like doing the wrongest things all the time,and nobody was there to stop me from doing it.It's like killing yourself because nobody cared,and all you wanted was for somebody to stop you from doing it.Only,before somebody comes along the blade's already into your veins,too deep to sew back,the point of no return.

So i waited and i prayed,im not sure if i was conscious of it.At midnight while busy sorting out the photographs i was so sure that she changed her number,ignored my call,my message,whatever.It didnt matter then,i told myself.It didnt make a difference if she picked up or not,because it wouldnt change a single thing.

In the morning,walking up the little hill before Ren Ci Hospital,i recieved a message,It was a replied,and how delighted i was,as i tried my very best to hide my anxiety.It was,after all,her first message in days,months.It was simple,and nothing fanciful.But then again,everything she said was so beautiful and brilliant in my mind.It wasnt a very long exchange of messages,just four messages in total.It brought back memories,but the fact that she missed my call during the concert was rather saddening...

The conversation conjured up so many old memories,or possible memories waiting to be created.It was a short conversation sure,but afterwards i kept thinking about the possibilities,what if the grass IS greener on the other side.After all,i WAS from the other side of the hill,get what i mean?

Imagine yourself as a greek,living on the side of Mt. Olympus herding sheeps.You have a simple live,sitting under a great tree reading a book all day,while watching over those sheeps grazing on the endless field of green grass.Once in awhile you bring some of your friends over as well,and sitting under the shade of the tree you guys talked till the sun sets and you are ready to bring the sheeps home.It's a simple life,but you wanted more.You moved away from the countryside,leaving the sheeps and your friends,the green field and the great tree behind.

You are now in the city,surrounded by civilisations.Cars busying themselves down the road,and buildings rising up from either side of you,with the sky as the limit.People up and down the streets,horns blared somewhere within the crowd of cabs,a city full of opportunities.

It didnt start out easy for you,the sheperd from the countryside.You didnt have a degree,but you got a job polishing boots at the side of subway stations.Then you slowly grew up,and wisened up as well.You started to like the idea of opening food chains,and soon enough you had your own little shop selling hotdogs at the side of Sixth Street.Then it grew from one shop to three,to ten,then it grew to the next state and so on.

Ten years now,and you are rich.You have a beautiful wife call Suzanne,and two kids named Tristan and Clementine.You love you family,and all of a sudden,amidst all the noise in the world you thought of the sheeps,and you thought of the tree.You thought of the friends and the great tree.You dismissed that idea,thinking that that was the past,and that right now,things are right,things are normal.

A couple of years now,and you are still relatively rich.But still,you wonder about the country where you came from,and now you want to go back to the countryside.You are so tired of all noise in the city,the neon lights buzzing on and off outside your window.The way people crashes into each other just to gain attentions,and despite the heat all around you feel so cold in a crowd.That's how you felt,and you desperately needed the warmth of the sun back home,under the tree amongst the company of fluffy sheeps.

But you cant go back,you tell yourself.You cant go back because it was not normal.But then again,what if things were normal and the life you are living now is not?It only seems normal because you have successfully convinced yourself in believing that everything that happened is what you wanted,is what you needed,and with time they sank into your mind as ordinary normalities.

What im saying,is that im not sure if the no-contact thing is in any way,good for me.I faltered,i admit.I was thinking about adding her back to my contacts.Thinking about the glorious me back then,when i was so glad that i deleted her off my contacts.I thought that could make things right,lift this rock off my chest.But it didnt,but turned into yet another mistake altogether.

I didnt like myself afterwards,the way i never looked forward,or was motivated to do anything anymore.I didnt HATE myself per se,but right now after the Coldplay Concert i wonder what else i have to look forward to.Aside from the weekend breaks every week,what then should i look forward to?Back then,every week end was such an exciting thing because we got to do this little thing called "Talk".It was so simple and yet so satisfying for me.What now,should i look forward to when there isnt any?

I came up with a brainstorm to the pros and cons of adding her back to my contacts.According to Corinna i might just end up like Leonard,which is not a good thing.Of course,she admitted that comparing me to Leonard is rather absurd.After all,i have Taipei 101 levels of sophistication more than that bag of lard.But i guess by 'intruding' into somebody's life,no matter how charming you are,no matter how handsome you are,it doesnt matter,right.An invasion is an invasion,it doesnt make thing any different.

Im still making a decision now,but looking at how things are moving on,i guess i am doomed to stay in the city for a while.In due time i might move back to the country,where the sky is blue and the grass is green.But right now it is the bitterness of reality that has got to bug me for the rest of the year.It doesnt get any better for me here,only worse.But like so many other things in my life,i just have to tell myself that it is normal,that it is okay to feel this way.

But why do we all have to deny our true feelings?Why do we need to convince ourselves something,that's denied by every part of your body?It doesnt make sense,and it doesnt add up.But guess i havent to courage or guts to make that kind of decision.After all,im just a sheperd,and she is the princess.This is not a fucking fairy tale,this is real.In this true story stable boys dont marry the princess,the prince do.We stay here and watch from across the river,hearing the church bells and the pedals of roses floating in the end.A tear shed,a song sang.Then at the end of the day before everything is over,you return to your stable and everything begins all over again...