we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Saturday, August 30, 2003
1:16 AM
on School
i figured that the although the greatest thing on earth was to love and be loved in return, the greatest hurt would strike when the love of something escapes so involuntarily and suddenly you can do nothing about it. at least i could feel a relationship spiralling into nothingness, at least i had foreseen my one year basketball career climaxing at an end, but little did i know something had been dying in me each time i left tutorial classes, and a little more of it etches itself in my memory.
thursday marks the end of our lessons, and pe was possibly, or rather probably the most unifying lesson we ever had. although we might have lost to 62 whilst sean would harp upon his victory for the months to come, it was powerfully heart-warming to note that that even the king of slackers jiajun changed into his pe attire. and not forgetting the queen, felicia who bothered to sms me good luck prior to the game. and the girls of course, who sacrificed precious mugging periods to spectate the game.
i still remember my first day at hwachong. i distinctly remembered 4 girls sitting cross legged beneath the class bench, bent over chemistry notes. i wasn't prepared to talk just then, early hours could do wonders at socialising. but as i cupped my face with my palms, i peeped at my newfound classmates and noticed they were peering at me with aloof dignity.
i heard too, comments about this guy and that girl, this girl and that guy, right before i saw them turn around so quickly and smiled weakly at the person they were speaking of. and then i wondered if my classmates were going to be the sort who would cut down a redwood tree, mount the stump and make a speech for conservation.
but as the nanapok i am, i discovered i was sitting at the wrong class bench. and the noisy girl whom i had cursed secretly turned out to be in a secret library love affair with my beloved classmate frederik. i reshuffled my gaze onto my rightful class, and i realised that there too were girls who mugged, some who remained taciturn, some who remained sonorous till the end.
and then i lived the days i had to live, and it was with great pleasure that i discovered my class spoke english. but my love hadn't sparked for the love of the language. rather, it was the people who had struck me to be perfectly idiotic, inane, hilarious, senseless, insane and harebrained, that i felt a love brew in my heart. because i was just like one of them, and i fitted in perfectly.
it wasn't like rjc though, or perhaps it would be a fairer statement to say that it wasn't like the first three months, that i could garner a riffraff ragtag of friends to hit the cinemas. 69 proved to be trickier than i thought, while planned outings always failed, impromptu sallies always worked so well we would try to plan our next outing based on extempore. and fail of course. if there was one thing i had learned from being the social rep of 69, it's that the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.
i didn't know where i was headed in sec 4. neither do i now.
but what made me really happy these 2 years wasn't the school, for i was subjected to an art of living that does not consist in preserving and clinging to a particular mood of happiness, but in allowing my happiness to change its form without being disappointed by the change. and i am glad i had known all you people, for good or for better.
last thursday was our last day as a class. but mourn not, for happiness, like a child, must be allowed to grow up. it had been a privellege to be your classmate, 69.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
8:48 AM
Golden Mars
the outer space has always intrigued me. an involuntary shudder would run up my spine each time i gaze into the deep amorphous mass, a swirl of glittery stars and patchy white spots. for each space phenomenon would escort me through the secret anniversaries of my heart. i still remember, the day before geography prelims 2 years back, the shower of meteor stars amidst a curtain of drizzle and the warmth of a final embrace. i still recollect, the second day at nawang, when fulun animatedly pointed out the different constellations and moira as the gates rattled with eager children. and today, when mars draw closer than ever in 60000 years, i peered out of my window, hands clutched vice-like upon my economics ten year series.
screw mars. (and by this i meant the planet, for i absolutely adore the chocolate). i nearly fell off my ledge as i contorted my body into a ridiculous angle to view that silly red ball from my room. and perhaps it was with great fortune i held onto my ten year series, heavily laden with knowledge, that it contrived the torque that saved my life.
in other news, my own brilliance surpassed my imagination as mrs bengbeng ordered us to write a testimony about our classmates during CT period. in dedication to just four of my classmates, this was what i had written.
frederik has a beautiful golden character. looks can be deceiving.
pierre has a beautiful golden character. silence is golden.
kelvin has a beautiful golden character. all that glitters is not gold.
mingwei has a beautiful golden character. robbers mug gold.
its 11:45. my econs ten year series beckons. i've got to gold.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, August 24, 2003
8:29 AM
Our Class Hammy
it lay on my hand curled up in a cute ball, it wasn't half the size of my palm, perhaps just a wee bit bigger. it had an ivory tinge beneath its outstanding sepia strands, and for once, its beady eyes stared back at me. a penetrating glare it was, almost as if it were in defiance. and then i exclaimed, "look, what wonderous creatures we are. we've managed to tame it after all!" before kelvin burst into agreement and shirley shrieked from somewhere demanding that i hand it over to her.
it was a friday afternoon.
all those times it tried to scuttle beneath the sawdust, scamper out of its fish tank and worm its way through our fingers; all those times it refused food from our hands, pretended to sleep or perhaps was really asleep; we deemed it an antisocial creature. little did we know what it actually wanted, perhaps a drip of sweeter water, a nut tastier, an enclosure bigger or maybe, just maybe. freedom.
it got what it really desired today, may it rest in peace.
it was a sunday morning.
-----
"yelccch," my tiny mouth was protracted beyond my limits as i tried to stuff yet another sunflower seed in me. my silly shopkeeper forgot to feed us again, i had better store up more food in me before my four chipper friends comes back. i've no idea why they find it amusing to keep dashing helter-skelter aimlessly, bumping their already dumb heads onto the one metre wide glass enclosure.
oh no, here comes those idiotic kids again. they must be here to fetch my snowy pal, alas, he was taken away by another owner yesterday. nanny nanny poo poo, and i made a face at them. one of those girls shrieked, she was jumping up and down and up and down, oh gosh! i think she saw me, now she's contorting her face in amusement as she plasters her face so near the enclosure to check if the snowy pal they had wanted to purchase was still around.
argh, don't touch me don't touch me!! can't you idiots tell the difference? i am not the hamster you want. okay, i shall pretend to sleep so that you won't buy me. -snores-
sigh, they bought me anyway. strangely, they assume i'm antisocial just because i don't move much, but how would anyone expect anyone to move in this bloody bantam fish tank. and two short girls, one really black, sprinkled sawdust over me just now as if it were snow, its pricky you know. -sticks out a middle finger-
hmm, i didn't know i was so attractive. i feel so loved these days, guys stroking me as if i were their anatomy, and girls cooing over me like i were some siberian breed. but i don't want to be loved by humans, or rather, humans who think they love me. sigh, mishaps dissolve into disasters by the end of the day when i realise these 5 kids come from one big family of 26 idiots, and it seems they belong to a cult called six-nine. i heard one nimkamput telling the rest that i'm the newly joined member of this cult, to hell with it man. can someone bring me back to the petshop where i belong? i miss my friends.
its been two months since they bought me. i've been subjected to much torture, there is this girl who lives in this really big house who bought me a wheel. and she amuses herself by seeing me run senselessly on the wheel, getting nowhere. and then there is this tall bastard who keeps throwing me up and amuses himself by seeing my four legs spread eagled. and not forgetting the people who keep groping at me, waking me from my slumber, forcing a sunflower into my throat, carressing my mole at the top of my head and lastly letting me go before recapturing me. alas, all the love they claim they shower upon me is getting nowhere, i still have not taught them what true love is. yawn, i wonder how can i tell those kids what true love really is. hmm, its about letting someone go, if it does return to you, then it truly belongs to you. if it doesn't, it has never been yours. screw them though, as if they would bear to let me go.
today, i feel all giddy inside. it must have been the jump from what those humans call a class bench. ouch. thinking of that fall pricks me somehow inside, somewhere. yawn, i think i shall go to sleep. for a long time.
it was a sunday morning.
the voices in my head-
Friday, August 22, 2003
10:29 AM
Day 6634
today was a weird day. it started with a kooky assembly when jennifer tan strode up to my class, stared me in my eyes and started rambling about our gorgeous attendance. for a wild fleeting moment i could imagine myself sticking out my tongue at her before she running after me with a broomstick but fortunately, i resisted the temptation.
at the 7th period, my stomach exploded in pain i knew i must have been dead. i couldn't lie, lest my stomach gets stretched and i could just imagine my 2 plates of lemon chicken oozing into bits of my bladder and possibly my lungs. mainly to take my mind off the admirable pain, i started pondering about a natural aroma if indeed the lemon sauce had wormed its way into my lungs and whether i would emit a lemon fragrance out of my nostrils each time i exhale. and of course i went to see the doctor, and i was praying so hard it would be a boy, then perhaps i could teach him how to dunk before he turns 12. alas, the doctor told me that i wasn't pregnant.
i recovered promptly, and i cycled down to school to watch talents in full blossom at ge yao. i nearly died again, hitting a taxi and earning a respected middle finger from a half a century specimen. but such trivial matters were forgotten over the stupendous vocals of sok and yuying, and i must admit they were like proverbial butterflies out of grungy cocoons, angelic yet sweet at the same time. of course angels would play hard to get, and it was regrettable that fulun and i had to skid across half the stage to present flowers to each of them.
the day ended with me feeding my rabbits, and they nibbled my blistered finger so forcefully it couldn't have been out of affection. who says one would never bite at the hand that feeds it?
the voices in my head-
Thursday, August 21, 2003
9:02 AM
On mugging
everyone's disappearing these days.
ring goes the bell, clitter clatter sounds the stationery, a distant zip could be heard in the background while profanities roar amongst the guys. and then in a snap of a second, everyone vanishes with a flick of an arm and a swish of the neck. and the silence becomes so deafening you can almost taste it if you tried. even the class bench is abandoned. once upon a time when it held the glory of safekeeping shoe bags, balls and PE gear, it can only flash a faded aWak3n|nG amidst the pathetic planks these days.
why, thinks me. to mug of course, replies the voice in my head.
muahaha, a nasty part of my heart scoffed, my middle finger stood out erect amidst my fist, and my tongue wagged as i blurted...
shouldn't you be studying?
why are you here?
you've just wasted 60 seconds of your precious mugging time.
nanny nanny poo poo.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, August 17, 2003
7:41 AM
Mad Hair Day
stupidly enough after a stupid hairdo at JeanYip, i was deemed a motivator along with sean and bballers, each bestowed upon a glorious task of leading a group of st margs to beseech pedestrians for donations. admittedly, i thought it would be boring, ergo my lust for my oscillations notes at my side.
a potent portent indeed, i didn't wallow in boredom, contrarily finding it entralling. to walk down the streets of orchard with three cute agog girls, half motivating them, half harmonising alongside their bimbotic rattle. they told me about their gay teachers in long striped sleeve shirts, about their cliques they couldn't get along with, about girl fights, about their favourite fruits in school, about everything under the sun and anything beneath the moon.
i reciprocated, of course. i told them that not all hwachong guys are nerdy geeks, i told them that not all hwachong girls are bespectacled petite librarians, and undoubtedly, i told them about hwachong basketball team and that the guys netball team has yet to exist.
as Anatole France puts it, indeed, i prefer the folly of enthusiasm to the indifference of wisdom. it has been a great day.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
8:58 AM
Tales
there used to be a pig who lived in London. and he had a friend, a mermaid in fact, who lived in the Indian Ocean. as pigs are, he eats a lot, and snorts crudely (but naturally of course). one day, he decided to visit the mermaid in the Indian Ocean and he waddled into the cold waters. actually the waters in the Indian Ocean is warm, but i am the evergreat author and i wish it to be cold (since tutorial lessons are usually cold), but back to the tale. he waddled into the cold waters and snorted so hard the swirls of salty mist hit the mermaid squarely in her face. so she sighed and then she turned, flipping her tail as she went, hitting the pig squarely on his snort. but days after, as anyone would expect, the mermaid began to miss his friendly crude snort, and she decided to look for him in the streets of London, only to realise she had a tail.
-----
there used to be some animals. a fair few of them, each different in species, nonetheless closely bonded at heart. their hearts are valuable of course, as animal hearts are mythed to be as valuable as whips for they increase the longevity of man if it were brewed beneath the full moon, yet such hearts are rare nowadays in the bustle hastle of a modern society. each year, on the 13th of august, they would gather to singalong songs, exchange some thongs and make their fellowship strong. nonetheless, a great flood overcame the plains this year, and as one particular giraffe strided to the meeting place, he realised the rain wasn't as heavy as he thought, and just perhaps, the tears of the sky had been spent.
-----
and finally, a happy tale. there used to live a happy doopy pig. and as pigs are, he was a happy doopy very sleepy little pig. one day, as he was sleeping, farmer nehnehpok (his surname was Ang, a pretty boring Ang, so i prefer his middlename) came along and picked him up. stroking him gently, he told the pig in piglanguage of course, "snort.. snort.. snort.. snort.. snort.. snortsnort." which meant "Lucky you would be entering the inter farm pig strutting contest". and with that, farmer nehnehpok tied a ribbon around his neck and stuffed a sugar cube into his mouth. which made him a very happy doopy little pig.
-----
and they lived ever after. for happily or unhappily, its not for me to tell.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, August 09, 2003
10:56 AM
National Days
birthdays are unimportant once you've reached the age of maturity where one's childhood fades into a nebulous of lost innocence. i stared at my television set so long and hard today, and goodness knows why. its always the same ain't it, the crazy guys who jump followed by mr president who walks as if he's carrying princess diana's coffin, and then the march pass where the guys would twist their necks towards the president at one point in time, ending off with inchoate glitters of sparks which erupt into a brilliant display of fireworks.
and then i turned off the television set. staring back as if in defiance was a scrawny boy with ruffled hair, grey spectacles too large for him, and a shirt with batman forever streaked across his chest. he was standing in salute, fist clamped upon his breast, and singing the national anthmn with pride.
the voices in my head-
Friday, August 08, 2003
6:52 AM
On Ktv
i felt as though i had known you for ages.
it seemed as if vernon, kelvin and i had sung amigos para siempre together since the days of buttony bronze shirts. it seemed as if fangxi and i had been through orientation together at the beginning. it seemed as if sipei and shirley had shared a talentime experience with the consonance of zhang hui mei's tinghai.
it seemed, that i had grown a little more today.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
7:50 AM
Promenade Buffoonery
i usually ain't mean, but today i shall execute a little squib of nastiness since my leg hurts so much i couldn't even concentrate on my econs as white blood cells attempted to crystallise over my enticing little scab.
5 years ago, and if i ain't mistaken its the year of 1998 when we were little unpubertised kiddos, i remembered myself in the sea of butt clasping khaki tights. i was awed by the vast characters of people surrounding me, but amidst my short term anmesia, i do distinctly recollect various incidents that imbued themselves deep in me.
it was pak, unmistakably. devoid of hair (on his head), he was cheering for his orientation group so vigorously his head rocked with such pith that his neck was dangerously loose. i remember lunching beside him after that orphic incident and more clearly than ever, i remember introducing myself.
"hi, i'm wai..."
"Hi!wai?i'm pak!how do you do,where were you from,i'm pak,who are you again?"
alas, my dear pak, someone has beaten you to etch themselves upon my deepest memory. he had opened a wonderous sea of fashion possibilities to me by his posture. alas, unique though his posture may seem, sui generis was his style when he walked. he had a powerful stride, and his arms flapped wonderously as if he were swimming his way through. i scrutinised his legs, and they seemed to deviate from the straight path. i dwelled hard, and of course, it must have been the early development of his anatomy that caused a monster to sprout between his legs. and then, i wondered if it were any bigger than mine and pondered even further why he had to walk like that when i needn't.
but of course, the chinese high school gave druthers to however we walk, and he hasn't changed since. just days back, i caught his unmistakable demeanor from a corner ahead. but as things improve as times pass, his mien has upgraded to a level where it involved the circular motion of a dangerously elephantine water tumbler. and a scuttling of a faithful friend, like shadows that meld not, who would always chase after him, engaging him in deep assay of warcraft three creatures.
anatomies or otherwise, killer tumblers or circuitous analysis, it is undeniable that this pair had stuck through thick and thin. and who can ever deny that pak hadn't made one collapse from flummoxed exasperation in (attempting to) understand what he says?
thinks me, pak for the entertainer. ah zhan and greg, best of friends!
the voices in my head-
Sunday, August 03, 2003
6:34 AM
Gryphon's Cup
i thought it weird for me to play. after all, a 3 month old rafflesian had only the first tastes of the rafflesian spirit before he was shooed away. imagine cod liver oil being spoon fed into one's mouth, and just as one clamps his lips upon the cold spoon, it darted away, leaving only the faintest of traces of cod liver oil on the tongue.
but some things never change. Darren's big blubber still defies all laws of physics as he attempts 360 air reverses (and fails still) while Gabriel and Nansi were nonetheless as accurate as i had left them 16 months ago. and such high regard amidst salubrious sacarsm, i was deemed a player of the championship team, and was bestowed with so many minutes on court. i played wonderful ball today, even against national team player Jiaren and an ex combined schools player Luokai, and even marked a career high of 16. as we lost to RI97 in the semi finals, we returned to the bench for a final oosh, and it was there that i stopped myself from exclaiming Hwachong Oosh amidst a roar of Blue. Some things never change.
Gabriel lamented why i didn't stay on at RJ, and it all came back to me. it wasn't as if i wanted to change schools, it wasn't as if i didn't try appealing, but my life was just toyed between the fingers of those oochy foolchy oldies back at cambridge. perhaps i would have enjoyed myself better, perhaps i wouldn't have to scrunch up my eyes whenever i browse through those sweetie notes my sweetie pals scribbled whenever i fell asleep, perhaps i wouldn't be single. but just, perhaps.
it ain't any use bemoaning, for perhaps and what ifs are merely seemingly profound thoughts for idiots. i've always loved life as it comes, unconditionally, and it will always be. To lead with compassion, to live with passion, auspicium melioris aevi.
the voices in my head-
i love my girl. a love so beautiful, symmetrical, tangible
God loves me. a love so great, unconditional, real.
my life in a nutshell. working towards loves of sorts. beautiful, symmetrical, tangible, great, unconditional and real.
a page, deliberately left blank.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
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