The Way

There exists a kind difference between cruelty and ruthlessness, as there is a mocking revelation between kindness and pity.

But so often do we generalize things, that we take for granted the subtleties that present themselves - like the harsh words of a parent (I’ll kill you, you fucking ingrate!) against the rigidness of policy (If you want to riot, you will be arrested); or the dollar given to the auntie who sells tissues against the dollar given to the auntie because she sells tissues.

Do we not see the need to divide? Or have we experienced too much to be able to make a difference anymore? What about consequences - are we only driven by the end result, not batting a thought about how it is achieved? Are we reasoning too much, taking into account the fine salts of a main course instead of the quality of the steak?

I’m lost of course, because here I am ranting away in the middle of the night, over a thought I had in the course of the day while walking to the taxi stand.

But things like this happen to me, and thoughts like the above present themselves and leads me to question in hope of an answer.

Is it important to get an answer to every question? Well, I think for a kid like me, it perhaps is the very reason of asking.

I’ll need to be more mature to think that some questions warrant only a silent wave of the hand.

And the question in this case would be, like in most other cases and most vividly pointed out through a conversation with a friend the previous night (woah, he can cross-reference!):

Do we even care?

Philip

Surprising that two of my best buds are of the same name?

Don't be. The world's more freaked out than you think.

Philip just told me he wanted to settle down, and I'm really happy for him. See, I'm not the happiest person in the world, and there are very few things that can really make me smile. So when he told me he wanted to settle down and that the girl shared the same feelings, I was cheek-to-cheek.

Me and him go way back. I remember the days in primary school when we would be playing games during recess. There was the one-leg game, the softball (tennis ball and your forearm), and then there's the balancing beam (you had to balance all the way to the end and then play rock paper scissors with the champion to take his place and beat the rest of the challengers who came).

And in secondary school he'd be the one guy I can always go to relate my troubles. We'd spend hours on the phone, and I remember this particular discussion that ended up with my theory that the pyramids were built by an advanced race of dinosaurs.

He's an easy-going guy - always ready to take time off to head out with a seriously depressed me needing company and someone to smile with. He's been missing lately, what with education in the UK and now work, and I miss him already.

So we get our fix on Facebook and MSN. Right now I'm talking to him about money and people. He's far away in Southampton now, missing home. I told him we'd go KTV when he comes back in december and I can't wait.

Anyway back to the topic of marriage, and the need to be. I'm sitting on the other side of the fence for this one coz I think that as long as two people are in love, marriage is but a status less-deserving.

Do we question if winter should be cold? Or if scholars are smart? What about dogs being loyal or cats being lazy?

Some things in life just are, and we should be glad we get the chance to be.

For those fortunate enough to experience love, I guess marriage is a practical solution to the need to progress, get a house and make children. To me, for now, it's all a show for the parents.

Call me a romantic, but love is all I think I need.

That, and a little luck.

A Holiday.

Last week was spectacular - the kind where you have nights that you don’t want to end, and when they inevitably do you go home thinking about them and wishing for the next one to start; loads of smiles, meaningful conversations, and happiness.

Which made this one pretty much a bore. No offense to those who actually spent it with me, but there’s not as much leaving me wanting for more than the last one. There was a lull, and come Monday evening, I felt an urge to fill the void.

So I went for a bus ride. A long one.

I love bus rides. They’re just one of my versions of “sit down and watch the world go by” - romanticizing the moment and not heeding the evil shadow of reality. It is a ruthlessly innocent permutation of kiddiness that I have come to be known for at the O.

But this one was different. I had a purpose in mind - a reflection was in order, an excavation into my person given the situation of things - and the bus ride was going to help me chase that eventual conclusion.

A friend told me today that you can’t be yourself when you’re in the office, and I said I found it sad that we are more often someone else than ourselves.

On the bus I am me, a sad little person cramped into the back seat, looking carefully at each and every person that boards and alights. In the back of my mind was the reason I had come, but the allure of people-watching was too great to resist.

There were a lot of factory and construction workers - lugging their hauls of big bags from Little India back to their quarters. A couple boarded the bus, a sweet-looking girl too young for her choice of clothing accompanied by a starry-eyed boy too smart for his choice of clothing. Behind them were a group of Chinese immigrants, voices drowning the music from my Motorola wireless headsets (shameless plugging to be apologized for), who seemed lost because they kept asking each other if their stop was the next one.

The Indian man seated next to me kept looking out the window to my left, stretching his skinny neck out in an attempt to see through the darkness and reflections. His comrades noticed him and started talking to him, possibly providing guidance on where his stop was. They contributed to the lively exchanges by the Chinese and the man stopped craning his neck.

At this point I realized that all was simple in the search for an answer to my query. There was a beauty to the happenings on the bus that makes you feel like you’re a part of a big performance that plays itself out no matter what you try to do. It belittles you, removing your individuality and slapping you with the hot poker of being “just one of the people”, but you don’t mind because you’re enjoying the ride.

I had my answer, and then it was time to pick on the little things - the air conditioning was too cold, and someone brought the scent of durian onto the bus.

3 hours on the road, and I return home happy.

Philip

He had a family problem so he went off first.

I was stuck at the bus stop for awhile, and I got to thinking about the conversation we had earlier at the restaurant.

There are people who you smile with - those that really make you happy. While you’re with those people you don’t want the night to end, and when it eventually does you go home wishing for the next outing.

And then there are people like Philip - the kind that tells you the plain honest truth with all the intention of getting you to wake the hell up. Sure, he gets on my nerves sometimes, but he knows what kind of a person I’m like, and the kinds of stupid shit I always manage to get into. I can’t wait to go home, but I always take a lesson with me.

So he looks at me and tells me it’s fate. That’s like telling the people of Africa they won’t starve.

This guy is amazing. Whenever I’m with him I attempt to communicate to God. I’m not making fun of anything here, but I’m not a believer. Sure I think he’s there, but I never thought he was good for anything. He’s like a security blanket, and that was enough for me.

But this skinny prick sitting in front of me always makes me look up at the sky and talk. And when I do it’s always the same thing -

“You hate me don’t you?”

Weirdos. That’s what I call him and me. From dancing in the streets to blotching up songs in the Singapore Idol auditions, we’ve done it all. There’s a special place in this world for us, and it’s far far away from all the other normal people.

So stories were exchanged and advice traded. I called him an fool and he says I’m an idiot. Trouble finds us somehow wherever we go, and we make a picnic out of it.

His latest episode had something to do with a mobile phone and homemade pornography.

Don’t ask.

Mine had something to do with stupidity and a dream so far to reach the Everest Team won’t even attempt to climb it.

Then he pulls the fast one on me. I was munching down on my moneybag (some fried wanton thing with meat stuffed inside) and he said the F word.

As usual I started to lift my head up, ready to sprout my line. But something stopped me this time.

Fate.

Funny thing, this.

Let’s see how this goes, shall we?

Today

We rant.

Sometimes stories can only tell you as much as the author intends to. And nothing beats a well-placed ramble.

So here I go.

Today I had coffee. Something I thought I got rid of a long time back. I love the taste - bitter and sweet all at the same time. And the heat from the hot water stings you, reminding you not to take all of it at the same time.

But I am greedy, and so I ask for lower temperatures so that I become the master of my indulgence.

In the background, I’ve got Lucky by Mraz and Calliat. It’s a good song and I recommend anyone who reads this to turn it on now before you go on.

So the coffee - masterful concoction of the cliche of bitter and sweet - annotates us to the little moments in life where we enjoy both joy and sorrow, makes us think back on moments when our heart ached while our lips curled up in smiles. Add in the sting from the high temperature and you’re one good Forest Gump analogy away from a Booker Prize.

Do you hear me talking to you?
Across the water, across the deep blue ocean,
Under the open sky, oh my,
Baby I’m trying.

That’s the problem though - people don’t listen. And I’m not the one complaining either. If I had a dollar every time I got a missed call on my mobile…

So you shout all you want, as long as you’re happy.

Here’s a list of 5 things I like -

1. Cats
2. Smiles
3. Cooking
4. Having fun
5. Shirts and Shoes.

Ok so it’s six things, sue me.

People change things all the time, and we being The Rest of the World, can only sit and watch. There’s a certain beauty about last-minuteness that we fail to appreciate sometimes.

It’s spontaneous, it’s fun, it’s great… So it’s worth taking that unknown turn down an unknown road - if only just for that instant. That way you won’t spend the next few days wondering if.

Here’s a list of 5 things I would like to change -

1. People should smile more
2. Cats should all die naturally
3. The weather in Singapore should be like NOT HOT
4. I should be less temperamental
5. People should like change

So next time you see a dark corner, just jump into it ok? Who knows it might actually be fun.

They don’t know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this.
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss.
I’ll wait for you I promise you
I will.

If I had 20 cents every time I hear someone promise something to someone else, I’d have more money than if I had a dollar for every time I miss a call on my mobile.

I, for one, would have contributed a significant amount to that trust fund. TRUST fund! The irony.

So last but not least, here’s a list of 5 things I think are most promised to people all over the world-

1. Stories have to have happy endings
2. It’s going to be better
3. Yes sir, your money will return to you at least double in 2 years
4. Bao jiat (sure sweet!)
5. I love you

But that’s not to say it’s all balderdash. I also believe that we all get what we deserve, someday. And till that day comes, keep at it ok?

Because nothing beats hard work. Now go sweat.

Uncategorized

There are many forms of happiness I've been told, and not all of them are good for you.

It's just one of those things that you say you understand, but lose meaning as you continue to think about it.

My advise for now would be to not refuse happiness, for it's often so hard to find.

But then again, what do I know?

Not just a pretty face

“Why are the simple things always beautiful?” he used to shout to the audience.

On stage, he turns into this berated man, so angry and displeased with the world. He would stare at the audience in their plain black dresses and tuxedos, pointing his short fat fingers at them, asking them why.

And when the lights go out and curtains come down, he’d switch off. By switching off I mean slouched over the bar counter pissing himself after consuming half the nation’s worth of brandy. His eyes dazed, looking out into the cold. We didn’t know anything because he never talked about it. Thousands of people come to hear him talk and spit in their faces, but when the attention’s gone he’d shut up. Go figure.

This night is like every night, when the bearded man slouched over his beer and had a slight moment to himself before the next show. Sometimes we would think that he’s going over his routine – trying to get everything in order so the audience gets what they paid for – but then we figured he never gave a flying fuck about the silly people below the stage.

And it’s not like we didn’t try asking either. I knew Samuel from the past, and he was a jolly fellow who loved sharing the occasional story and good laughs. Something happened in-between being fat and jolly to turning into the fat version of Oscar the Grouch.

There were a couple of others besides me – regulars in the bar who just kinda stuck on for the end of the show. And by end of the show I mean End of the Show. With all that drinking and bathing in self-loathe, they’ve got a pretty hefty pot going on when the sucker’s gonna kick it.

I got my money on December.

The frost taps at the window, making cracking noises that scared the bar owner. Then he’d tell Gina to go tape up the damn windows so he doesn’t have to dock it out of her pay.

Gina’s a sweet one, always there ready to clean up after the poor sack. I reckon they used to know each other, but neither Samuel nor Gina wanted to talk or say anything about each other. All he does is make people laugh and then get drunk; all she does is laugh at his jokes and then clean up the mess afterwards. It’s a great relationship.

So on this night like every night, old Samuel got ready for the next round of sarcasm by downing his last brandy. All fired up, he’s take a deep breath and make his way to the front. Like always, he starts off with the line he’s known to be famous for – “Why are the simple things always so beautiful?”

“You sir!” he’d point his fat fingers at a particularly snobbish yuppie.

“What is the opposite of simple?”

“Complicated,” came the answer.

“They teach you to smirk like that in Harvard?” he’d spit at the man. And before he can retort, Samuel would move on to say the same question to five or six other snobs.

Complex. Compound. Contorted. Asymmetrical. Complicated. Convoluted. Brazen. Ravaged – the list goes on… But never was he satisfied.

“It’s all bloody messy isn’t it?” he’d scream at the pristine audience.

“Well I think it’s not the simple things that are beautiful, it’s the other non-simple junk that take the hell out of the meaning of the word.

“Any of you ever think about a mess that’s beautiful?”

A few hands raised.

“Don’t act classy with me you diaper-trained bookworm! You’re sitting infront of a man who’s asking one hell of a philosophical question here!”

A few put their hands down.

“The least you could fucking do is tip me. And laugh, damn you all.”

I never found it funny, but at this point the room would explode. I would look at Gina and she’d be laughing too, but not at Samuel. She’d take a long good look at all the civilized bullshit too proud to call Samuel a lousy no-good drunk and laugh.

Then they’d find each other, and if you look hard enough, you might see a smile come out of the stupid old fart’s face.

Sight

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and as I look at the picture, I have never been more convinced.

I will change those eyes, and restore to them the shine that they deserve.

Listless

It's one of those days when you just sit around and not do much.

It's depressing to see a weekend go to waste like this, but we're all still young, so I guess there's more to look forward to.

On a side note, Manhattan Fish Market - don't go there.

Saturday was spent trying to play badminton. As my colleague put it, I had actually been fasting for 2 days thanks to previously-mentioned 'restaurant', so it's kind of a given that I was panting an hour into the game. Still, we got a good 2 hours out of it.

It was Suntec for a shirt (kudos to the free voucher from the same colleague), and then to the office to get some work for the home.

Being sick for the last 2 days pretty much means I've got some overtime waiting for me in the office. Seeing how I pretty much spend the most of the time after work at home anyway, I guess it's still acceptable.

Note to self: get a life.

And then on Sunday, I took a gamble on the tummy and had nasi lemak for breakfast (and you wonder why the exercising won't work). Seems ok, so I stuck on for duck noodles for dinner. That one took its toil and I'm having a little bit of a relapse. Gonna take the pills the doctor gave me and hope it helps.

Other than that exciting episode, I've been pretty much staring at my computer screen doing most of nothing. Static.

Tried sleeping, but here I am in the middle of the night. Got some rest about 7pm so I think it's taking its toil.

Side note: get a life.

Seems typing works. Eyes are getting heavy, and I'm all ready for a post-mc syndrome Monday.

Thinking of some stuff, but hope those go away soon. Thinking of other stuff, but hope those go away too.

Ain't we all part of a sad sad bunch?

Adio.

Just Desserts.

They say karma's a bitch, and I'm facing her first-hand.

Ain't a good feeling, but some things just need facing up to.

Guess it's time to turn some attention on myself for a bit.

Queen

She moves across the water, delicate and slow.
Purposeful she waits, counting the minutes of the world.
A touch from her outstretched finger -
So gentle, so meek - turns all to a silvery gleam.
And upon the frozen surface, she begins her journey.

Many have seen her grace, but none see the imperfections -
Faults on the smoothness of her skin,
The sagging of her shoulder,
And the soft sigh from her lips.

But still she walks, a figure so tall and sturdy,
Across the shimmer plane of her dream,
Looking forward to a time so distant
When all she touches doesn't turn to ice.

Lost

Since the start of this morning, words have escaped me.

Maybe it's the sickness affecting me, but I've not been able to paint pictures in my mind, something that I've not found difficulty doing. The dreamer in me gives me direction, throwing me all sorts of ideas - wanderlust of the mind.

Much has happened since I last touched base with myself. I had started this blog for the exact purpose of charting my thoughts and emotions, but so very often I find myself lost, unable to bring to reality the many unphysical permutations of my everyday life.

But here I am, wandering and searching for the perfect place in the world - a picture of bliss and happiness so that I can put them to words for a newly-made friend.

For she is a delicate creature - strong and willful, but I look closely and I see the cracks on the surface. I'm beginning to think that mine is a great life, though lacking many, see the absence of so much of the pain and torment that many of my fellow human beings are exposed to.

That day I saw her cry, and it shattered my heart. Since then I've been trying to give her something worth smiling about, for she has the best smile, and those wonderful eyes, so often lost and vacant with the weight of her troubles.

Perhaps I can help her, perhaps she won't let me. The least I could do is try.

The world escapes me, this strange concoction of good and evil, and I am unable to write. Sorry dear friend, all I can do for now is smile.