we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
9:46 AM
Fervid Turbulence
one of these days, i'm going to take the first flight out into the misty mountains of the swiss alps. i would hibernate there, never to awaken, never to be roused by the thunderclaps of society. nothing would prod me, perhaps just the trickle of a dew from a jointed pinnacle. the seasons would pass, summer followed by winter, yet i'd remain there undisturbed, an inner peace sieving all thoughts.
i know not why some people like the high running positions of a system. the popularity, the high profile, the surface masks of pretence and smiles imbued into their faces. i know not why some people detest lonliness, amidst the tranquility that evolves around it. such endangered moments are perhaps eagerly awaited, nonetheless hastily shelved into ancient nothingness when it finally emerges. people nowadays just live for a living, rushing helter skelter like aimless mice in a never-ending maze. its so hard to sit down, and chat. and laugh. an honest pure laughter.
people just come and go. so quickly. comes in a flash, gone with the wind.
how i wish upon the star the monsoon would swirl upon the misty mountains this summer.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 26, 2003
7:37 AM
The Perfect Cocktail
a drip of vodka lime, a taste of utter bitterness with a tinge of sweetness
stirred with zappel, full of efferversence, a bubbly happiness in full blossom
sprinkled with oreo bits, enticing the drinker to lick them all up before the vodka reaches the throat.
such excitement, such anticipation.
and lastly, a cherry to top it off. the one and only and first and last cherry.
such a cocktail fantasy i had demanded at the counter, and upon downing it in a gulp,
there weren't tears in my eyes. nor did i pee.
thank god.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 25, 2003
7:46 AM
Pigs to the Slaughter
Blood, tears, sweat as one
A hundred miles we'd run
A thousand shots we'd missed
How our bodies kissed
I had gotten used to this
15 players all to tease
But tomorrow's the one big day
When old black coach gets his say
Cut to twelve, three shall go
Who is it? can't say so
Perhaps me, perhaps you, perhaps him
Deep within, we're still a team
I dread tomorrow's coming
Squirm at tomorrow's cutting
For if its him, i'd probably just tear
`Coz i ain't much better, thats for sure
Yet if the axe landed on me
On the spot, I'd probably just pee
I'm anxious. I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm sad
Just in case though, someone pass me a sanitary pad.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, April 24, 2003
7:10 AM
Growing Up
Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are, and what they might have been. Yet as we grow and mature and harden as the society shapes us, we lose what actually separates us from the rest of all living creatures. The average child laughs about 400 times per day, whilst the average adult laughs only 15 times per day.
What happened to the other 385 laughs?
I think we're growing up too fast. As i sat beside gabriel today during math, i pondered over the times i used to sit beside him, the times when Xiaozheng, Darren and I would attempt to sprain one another's ankles with our lameness. i miss such times, i miss the moments of suspense when Mr Ang would lock the door and refuse to let us out until we finished his differentiation exercise; i miss the times i had to stand on the table with dalglish with fans swirling inches above our heads; i miss such carefree people, such classmates who would hurl each piece of tutorial out of the window and jump for the field when a soccer match was organised.
sigh, i think we're growing up too fast.
Or perhaps i'm growing up too slow.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
8:17 AM
Music of the Night
fangxi has been a great irritant these days, reminding me of the book which i owed her for perhaps a year or more. it was of great usage of my memory cells that i'd finally remembered to dig out her book from my piano case, a fine layer of web and dust twined over the cover.
dusting off the flakes which dissolved into nothingness, i placed it once again on my piano, and rolled my fingers delicately over the bars of white and black. it has been a long time since i'd touched the piano, and the keys felt numbly cold, but each song brought back gushing memories. as celine dion unsung her powerful verses of Power Of The Dream i still remembered my dearest friends from eshcroft, how we'd unleashed our Mr and Miss niceties beneath a created atmosphere, and how they would be doing now. chermain, wei an, ben koh, jiunhaur and of course. peishan.
then i went on to embrace a medley of Qing Fei De Yi and Guang Huai Fang Shi, i'd never felt so warm in my piano room before. The 16 degreed air conditioning blowing inches above my face could not suppress the overwhelming train of thoughts that had been deeply imbued in me since my return from China. Each face stood out vividly in my dreams, and i could somehow hear their clutter and hustle in the backdrop of each song.
i wanted to contain this special night, this unique train of thoughts, but like sand through a sieve, and water in cupped hands, my heart continued to wry open my mind to uncover the deeper memories as i played The Sleeping Child. The amiable face of Jason Wong, misunderstood as he seems, struck a chord in my heart, and i wondered often how i'd have fared at Aphelion with the 2bians, rather than Proed with eegofreakz. Such what ifs and buts often hover around my idle brain, and i asked myself too, i'm taking 3 subjects after a helter skelter run around the burberry bush. i could have stayed on at RJ after all, since i could have easily switched combi instead of adamantly wanting S06, and dropped a sub, to land up in the state i am today. Such mysteries shall remain unanswered, till death, perhaps eternity.
hmm. thats pretty too much thinking for a tender night. i closed my piano daintily, and realised that the silence was deafening. i stuffed fangxi's book into my bag, and tomorrow, after one long eventful year, it would be returned to its rightful owner. yet the events that had stumbled by when it lay in my piano case, would always emerge before my very eyes when such brilliant music finds its way into my ears. thank you, fangxi.
the voices in my head-
Monday, April 21, 2003
8:10 AM
You
i don't dare. coz i fear. to look. into the tear stained eyes. and heart. mind. soul. i fear, opening myself. exposed. crude, to let you. see me. tear stained as you are. i see me in you, and you in me, but thats no reason to. fall for your mirror.
i don't want. coz it'd be selfish. grossly selfish. to let history. recur. and for what reason? naught which are valid. nor tangible. for it in itself, amor el primer grado is not defined. i shan't. i won't. i can't. reopen myself to it. and neither should you.
i don't need. coz i have my loves. my friends. my sport. my passion. and such are my loves, which would halt our paths. don't make me hate my loves, for there can only be them. or you. and i chose them over it. what thinks you, that i would, for you, lose them all.
i don't care. coz i think it exists. between. you. i. us. and for what i love, for what that makes me happy. i would. pursue. but. i don't care. i don't need. i don't want. i don't dare. have.
You.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, April 19, 2003
8:23 AM
amor el primer grado
i'm still hooked on her image. 7 days have passed, yet i'm still unable to indentify her true name, whilst all i know in the whole wide world is that she acts as Elle in chan 8's saturday night movie.
sometimes i wonder what captivates my attention. The silky hair, which a comb would slide through, swishing in the wind as one paces the streets. The slitty eyes, which arch like an angelic cat, or a cat-like angel, i know not. The snowy complexion which freezes the pretty flower flakes for eternity, while warmth thrives within the soul. Such innocence, such sweetness, has long been endangered. So rare yet somehow so bountiful that such mystic creatures emerge all the while, but each retain her uniqueness which separates her from the others. Well, as Bede Jarrett spoke of in The House Of Gold, "The mysterious is always attractive. People will always follow a vail."
As I make my slow pilgrimage through love, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 18, 2003
8:20 AM
on KTVs and Kvetching
i did a hilarious act today.
perhaps it was the morning daze, but i was awakened to sok's call. much as it tickles my very balls now to think of it, i actually thought julia was a superbeing able to garner the class, and i so assumed that i was actually running late and everyone was already assembled at orchard mrt. 30 minutes early.
so like the clown as always, i took a cab, paid $5.60 only to stumble upon nothingness at the meeting point.
and ended up reading enid blyton's at popular.
i'm just like you and him and her you know. there are things i can't accept, there are limits that can break, but 20 other people can't be wrong. so as usual, perhaps its just me who should fuck off and sleep. mug. basketball. sleep. eat. mug. basketball. sleep. eat. mug.
on a lighter note, thank you rachel.
good night.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
7:12 AM
Drawn to the eeves, to a fantasy realm
Parapets and sea-walls, finding our eyes
In wonder, in some lucid flow
The squirms, smooth and silky
Badgered with slight jerks, sudden, violent
Each jolting senses, an inert's insouciance shoved away
I could somehow feel and taste her every move.
Twirl, swivelled, like a jasmine
Upon the dawn rays, dew drops aplenty
Hair swished with every spin
Wisps looking so sweet, i could taste it
Jingling bells upon the skirt, strummed my heartstrings.
aH. i'll marry a belly dancer any day.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, April 13, 2003
9:08 AM
Teeth and Thieves
Raymond stole a chip of my tooth today.
i looked into my mirror, and counted from my left, and realised that my two front teeth are grossly jagged. i looked like some comic flick vampire, especially after today's contradictory training session which left me both mentally and physically burnt out. My eyes burnt red, nose flared, and indeed, i resembled some hungry dracula after the blood of a virgin which would course warmth within my veins.
And then i tried to recall the other culprit who stole my other teeth chip. Jingfeng undoubtedly, was the mastermind whose fist found its way into my face during last year's FOS. Such forgettable experiences, are deeply marked by the missing calcium link in my mouth, each time i eat, each time i talk, each time i kiss, both raymond and jingfeng's faces would emerge murkily in the background of the scene.
How splendid.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 11, 2003
8:10 AM
No Knowing
fulun and i were speaking of different guys today after training, and about the different faces of them when they're around different people. its been pretty much concluded that it is an instinctively natural thing to do, to put on masks of pretence when you're in differing crowds.
hence you may think you know me, but upon a fart and two burps, you don't. you might read this blog and realise, wala. so this is the true wai kit. but nanny nanny poo poo, this ain't me either. ha. ha.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, April 10, 2003
9:12 AM
Post Block Clowns
Three hours of warcrafting at coro had caused orcs and archers to hover round our heads, and we'd decided to catch a movie at Lido. Joshua, Jianming, Mond, Jingfeng and i, we seemed like some evil coterie working our way to some unknown destination. We strided the pavements of orchard, unlike those who would walk the streets as if they were laden with a thousand tonne hippoelephony sack of lumber. Coincidence is much unexpectant as we discovered each other's hormones on a rage, and Mond unveiled his technique to the most unstained Jianming on the art of glancing at a girl. Jingfeng remained nonchalant throughout our discussion of girls, a fire lit in his eyes either due to his perfect angelic innocence or the wonderous knowledge of all. Joshua likened girls to dryads or perhaps druids of the talon, but by that, i don't mean he's gay, but if possible, even more indifferent than Jingfeng. And i... i just squeezed with the other 4 idiots for a great view of the girls, i just quarrelled with the other 4 grand idiots over whom shall refill the two dollars and thirty cent cup, and i just shot hooked-on stares upon the babes alongside the other 4 super grand idiots.
it feels great to let loose once in a blue baboon. hail the 5 bimbotic giants.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
7:34 AM
Back To The Future
i can't believe its all coming to an end.
much as this holidays were the most boring and gross ones ever, they had somehow rejuvenated me in ways more than one.
other than basketball, i had shoved all work aside, all friends aside, all commitments aside.
in fact, i had achieved nothing, done nothing, and by nothing, i mean absolutely nothing.
4 nights back, i laid on my bed and gazed out of my windows. the stars that interlock with the money plants that slither around my window panes resembled eyes peering at my insignificant self. i could feel, and even taste the beams of moonlight upon me, distant yet impassioned, soft yet fiery. i couldn't sleep, the silence was deafening.
and there was this time i walked up my slope, half counting the number of steps i took, half whistling the sound of music. a car honked at me at one junction, my rhythm was lost, my count slipped. and i ran back to the start of the slope, and embarked on my quest once more.
extraordinary happenings had also occured on my bed these weeks. i'd awakened to find myself in the midst of a really happy dream, only to discover it was only 11am. i would then take a really quick piss, and jump beneath my blankets, eager to continue the dream. and strangely enough, i could. 8 nights ago, i'd successfully re-enacted my entire orientation at rjc, only to be roused upon a damp pillow.
and today, thunder shook the roads whilst lightning split the sky. rain i'd never felt before shot towards the earth like fiery arrows. each raindrop would pierce my back before dissolving into nothingness. but i loved the way it stung, and i cycled from home to the botanic gardens and back with Enya's sweet november plugged in my ears. at a junction of third avenue, my tyres skidded and i jammed my brakes, but they didn't seem to function. strangely, i heeded nothing at that moment but Enya herself, who spoke softly of "where the roads would go, how the days would flow". the distance between the bus ahead of me closed like the shark's jaw upon an ikan, and still, i wondered who would come for my funeral. or whether there would even be one.
and bang. i hit the rear of the bus, just as it accelerated, and i escaped unscathed, unmarked, unblemished.
it is strange how such events may seem trivial to one, but this holidays has somewhat changed me as the trip to china had. i don't know why, or how, but all these days, i've been thinking. of anything and everything. and of most, my perspective has changed.
perhaps it is maturity, but looking back at the things i'd done, it seems that i've unaged. i lived in the years of my lost childhood, singing myself to sleep, counting the steps i take, taking the dangers of life, and loving the things i can't.
oh well, its back to school tomorrow. its time to grow up.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, April 06, 2003
7:50 AM
On Good Health
i think i'm going nuts.
the deprivation of basketball today due to horrendous weather and big burly security guards of chinese high has churned up an energy level equivilant to that of a thirteen yr old kiddo surfing his first porn site. then dalglish popped by and for the next few hours, i'd slaughtered his millions of abdominations, alongside jB's silly troll headhunters and changming's dazed peasants.
in a nutshell, the adrenaline rush with each arrow unleashed from my hyppogriff riders, and sense of satisfaction upon seeing dalglish's face contort with exasperation and frustration, is marvellously good for health.
the voices in my head-
Friday, April 04, 2003
8:33 AM
On eagles and angels
i was lying on an eagle's eyrie.
it was an uncomfortable resting place, full of roses, full of thorns.
i ruffled my hair, scratched my head, and it all came back to me.
i was trekking within the enchanted forest, following the designated path by an o wise wizard.
but a blinding flash caught my eye
curiosity wasn't rewarded, i had stumbled off the path, and for all i saw
were hosts of angels, full of unstained innocence
one of whom took my hand, and i felt a warmth run through my soul
but before i knew it, the host of angels spun
like water when the plug's pulled
and they spiralled upwards, out of reach, out of sight, out of mind.
i lost the angel, and i lost my path.
eagles rescued me though. and i lay now, safe yet trapped.
my eyes squinted at the intensity of the sunlight
but it seemed not to be the sun, it was yet another host of angels
once more, an outstretched hand offered me a warmth, stronger than ever
a memory, gushed from the past
a love, spun from nothingness
the eyrie was safe, the eagles would always be here for me.
yet the angel beckoned to me, with a meek smile and a tender hand.
i rolled uncomfortably, and before long.
i would fall head first, upon the miles of cliff,
and splatter into gazillion bits of tender flesh for the vultures.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
4:14 AM
Major Boredom
i don't know about you, but i think this holidays is screwing brains up majorly. Such wretched holiday has churned up so much boredom in a way that has caused a catastrophic result in my behaviour.
Early in the morning, i awoke at 8 to begin a 4k run by my fanatical captain. Somehow, the breech mechanism in my mind wasn't functioning, and i travelled from bukit timah to bukit batok, only to discover that i hadn't brought my shoes along when i was about to board the mrt. Bukits though both are, timah and batok are approximately 4km apart. Travelling to and fro wasn't exactly my style of killing boredom, and it pissed me off majorly.
Then as i strided around my 8th round when everyone else had finished, i attempted a gigantic stunt. you know how bored you can get when you're putting one leg after the other, functioning as a cycle of repetitive unit, when it struck me that there was a blot of spit approximately 3 metres away. i figured that i could play a game of "missing the spit" as my leg cloesd the distance of the spit and i. the trick was to position my leg as close to the spit as possible, while not letting a mole of the gross mixture of water and mucus touch my CBA shoes. wala. just when my feet was about to stamp right beside the holy spit, my dear captain exclaimed a warcry "Jia you ah" and alas, concentration amiss, the spit was squished and sent flying into 8 directions.
Boredom didn't halt then, as the 7 of us boarded a mrt to lunch. Whereupon yewtew which presents a variety of fast food chains and food junction, we sought lunch at Lot 1. Then spiritless as we were, some geek decided to engage in exploring Singapore's west, but it was a mrt ride paid off. Fulun and i were seated in an adjacent carriage, while Jianming and Huanghui were comfortably settled in the other. Mond, Feng and Yuhao seemed squashed up within the metal linkage, but apparently, all of us agreed unanimously that it was a chiobu galore. Some idiot, which we later realised was i, suggested we got out at bukit batok while the carriages of divine creatures headed towards Jurong Point, and we mourned over such loss for approximately 15 minutes and cast a longside gaze at the returning trains with much lust and expectation.
Never say die, a maxim adopted by vicecaptain and captain alike, we decided to proceed to Jurong Point for the amazing hunt. On the way, we embarked on a team purchase of hair gel, to style Huanghui and Mond's hair. Personally, i think mond looks great with his new hairdo, but spiked just seems to extend huanghui's already long face. Heh.
Then, boredom consumed us once more, and LAN-cum-movies-deprived kiddos like us couldn't settle on any recreational activity to partake, and decided to hibernate at KFC, where $2.20 could satisfy the thirst of 7. The minds of river valley i couldn't fanthom, but apparently the longer we stayed there, the more worth would be their 31 cents, and we lingered on for 2 hours.
i realised thereafter, that each training, i was playing amongst great players of this time. Years of experience choked up, and networks of connections spread around the island, i was nothing but a mere pawn. perhaps a frightfully violent pawn. It was as if i were seated beneath the hall of fames, while Fulun and i were struggling to clamber upon the skill ladders of this sport. If we made team this year, it would be our last (and only) season in the game, and i would tear to discover the loss of such passion after our As.
Oh well, i guess there's a price to pay for air rifle and interact club. Such thought provoking matters aside, boredom prodded my mind once more as i left Jurong Point. This time, boredom was accompanied by a rumbling hunger, churning litres of kickapoo and pepsi without a shread a meat. As i entered my gates, my two adorable snow-white pet rabbits eyed me with a ruby eye, and i wondered how they would taste after two rounds of herbal steaming.
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
Get awesome blog templates like this one from BlogSkins.com