we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
10:12 PM
Commissioning Ball
i feared. with an impalpable sort of trepidation that engulfs the whole. i've never pulled something like that off before, its somewhat like talent time `03 come alive once more, just that this time i'm on my own.
i remember scratching my head, wondering what beneath the blue baboonic moon had struck me dumb enough to have proposed putting something so preposterous up my sleeves. and then i stopped myself abruptly, before shuffling to the mirror and styling my hair for the 18927th time that night.
it was in that instant that the MC had cued me in. i gave my dear hair one last ruffle, as if solacing myself top down that its going to end in just a bit, before stepping back to the ball room up on stage and behind the keyboard.
i felt that same sensation. a piercing scrutinisation of a hundred eyes, some of which magnified by a couple of multi-index UV-coated glass panels. and that awful silence. a looming aura that creeps overhead, so slow and steadily.
and so it begun. my fingers carressed the blacks and whites while i tried to kiss the mike, a toad croak of Tong Hua that managed to slither out of my voice.
i could not have demanded a more apt moment for the applause. a solitary clap, followed by an enthusiastic chorus of hands, before a rousing ovation that swept the ballroom. it took the fear off my trembling self and consumed the looming darkness, filling it with a light, so bright that i felt the warmth trickle down my desiccative throat. twice, i sneaked a peek at my girl.. a beautiful princess. and there she was, as siewping had forewarned, eyes glistening too brightly.
and i smiled, knowing it was all worth it.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
10:24 PM
Deftly Deaf
i watched a horror flick at the corner of ulu pandan last night.
and it scares me to see the older folks ramble about life.
how evil the world will get. how relationships will turn all sour and bitter. how passion will succumb under practicality. how love will not exist.
let God be praised should my heart be eased, and perhaps bestowed with a little solace if the idle ramblings had gone on with less conviction. how evil the world might get. how relationships could turn all sour and bitter. how passion possibly succumbing under practicality. how love might not exist.
but it hadn't been so.
the horror flick asserted itself with an underlying dogma so strong in its foundation of confidence, coupled with the wisdom of age and experience, that i found myself arguing not against a concerned parental guidance, but a sage's perspective in life. and mind you, not just a sage.. but a political pundit, a seeming one at least.
yet much as the horror flick flashed obscene scenes of abhorrent concepts in life, i had to admit that it rocked the very basis of my certain beliefs. how sure could i guarantee certainty? how sure could i guarantee security? not a tad sure at all, spoke my heart yet i spoke with such earnestness and unfailing certitude that it sometimes scare myself.
what if i would fail?
the flick proved too much on a tender yesternight, but the pinnacle has yet to come. sage or pundit granted, still.. its a far cry from being a clairvoyant. you know not whats best, for the success of yours may not grant mine. you know not whats worst, for the failures and fears on your part may not be doomed to be mine. i desire my own light, not a reckoning shadow in the lane of a trek so clearly marked and defined.
and yes i do, i do understand the dangers of a solitary journey unguided, unescorted. but my time is limited, and i won't waste it living out someone else's life. i won't waste it living out a life i won't desire. i won't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. i won't let the noise of other's opinions drown out my own inner voice. and i won't not have the courage to follow my heart and intuition. cos it is them that somehow already know what i truly want to become. i am no sage, no seer, no pundit, no prophet. i can guarantee nothing, for nothing's guaranteed. so pardon the irony when i vindicate the lack of interest to be a guarantee of failure.
so there. i said it.
a voice so young so tender. too young too tender, some might deem.
but at least, its my voice. and after all,
its my life.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, July 24, 2005
9:26 PM
Circles and Square
everything that's directed in the little snippets of our life goes about in circles. what goes around comes around. what goes up must come down. every beginning has an end. every end has a beginning. even the world is round, and yet humans have intricately found a manner to balance themselves upon it. perhaps thats why disney came up with simba chanting the circle of life in The Lion King.
and so it was. the 457th day in service, the day of many beginnings. and of many lasts.
it would have been the last of marching point to point, elbows locked fists clenched thumbs pointing down. it would have been the last of singing in cadence, loud clear crisp confident politically-correct sounding blend of voices. it would have been the last of "knock it down"s, hands trembling biceps twitching body perpendicular perspiration trickling face ever so close to the ground.
and yet it wasn't just all hype bout the euphoria at being commissioned. what intrigued me was the circle of life, making it sure my parents were there for me this time as well, smiles and glees, just like the day of enlistment. and so was my darling, dolled up and all, no different from the time we boarded the penguin princess enroute to tekong. neither were my friends amiss, that pillar of confidence and strength, just like old times. to add weirdness to the bizarre, yesterday even had me had spring chicken for lunch, precisely identical to the first meal i enjoyed at BMTC.
and yes of course, the strange irony finally hit. ever the lowest life form upon tekong island on the 31st march last year, i've been commissioned to join the officer's corp as yet another organism at the bottom of the food chain.
the circle had me back to square one.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
4:12 AM
Be With You
japanese films are weird. i was told this movie would evoke the supple loins and break the dam beneath one's eyes, wrecking each pillar of calm that was supposed to stand firm upon a late night lover's movie.
hands clasped, fingers twined, a hint of a little diamond ever buried between my index and third. and then she tugged at my sleeve, and a whistle of an elephant's trunk rang amidst the tranquility of Be With You
so be warned my friends. watch this little flicker with a handy pack of tissue or a thorough blocked nose, lest your right sleeve gets overstretched, mucus and tears galore.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, July 16, 2005
9:00 PM
Song and Sword
funny how it is, when i look back at those days where i sang the national anthem on the rare occasions when i made it on time to school, with Jennifer Tan's eyes fixed upon the tinge of brown on my head.
and then there was the pledge, with a fist half cleched, hung limply on the left of my chest, a little morning tune that escapes my lips while my mind ponders upon the most bizzare fact that the class of singaporean females might suffer from an epidemic of diminished left boobs due to the everyday thumping of a fist to the left of the chest.
and it sounds almost foreign. alien in fact, when i picked up the tune of Majullah Singapura last friday, this time not standing at attention with hands slouched by the side, but bearing a sword on my left, hand tilted an awkward angle, gleams of light reflecting off the gold. the feeling was almost surreal, my mind still afixed on the last days of hwachong while i was hurled into reality with the sheer weight hanging down on my left.
funny how things change, and funny how it is when the most routine orders of our individual nature evolves into something else. but of course, change provides possibilities.. and this commissioning sunday marks a world of accelerated possibilities. if i can't control it, prayers be to God that i be at least trained to ride it.
and i wonder sometimes, perhaps the bayonet proved a more potent weapon to yield than the sacred sword.
the voices in my head-
Friday, July 08, 2005
6:08 AM
The dark night of 8th
my girl, did you think i wouldn't have hugged you and twirled you on the spot, beneath the cosmic play of stars and moons veiled by a solitary cloud in the dark night of 8th?
my girl, did you think i wouldn't have skipped down that little trek leading to a little hub, hand clasped over yours, fingers twined with yours, the warmth so gentle on a dark night of 8th?
my girl, did you think i wouldn't have laughed alongside your glees and beams, every smile ever so proud of me, and celebrate every bit of whats right with the situation instead of mourning the bits of wrong on the dark night of 8th?
cos only by celebrating whats right with the world would i find energy to fix whats wrong with it.
army and regimentation's always that wrong bit in my life, you got to understand that
and my girl.. you were the petite embarrassment which was the only right bit of the dark night of 8th.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, July 02, 2005
11:10 AM
Thoughts that go bump in the night
someone asked me how i remained so cool in the face of an impending catastrophe, how i stayed so happy after slapped upon with 3 weekend confinements, how i looked so can't-be-bothered even when my best pal knew i was all wretched inside cos my girl's out there alone on a weekend.
and i could only shake my head, voice barely a whisper. for it has always been a misconception that eyes were the windows to a soul. i could seal the shutters of my pupils, portraying a deadened look from a burning soul, but i could never mask the slump in a voice.
and then again one asked how i managed to keep my life in track, time logic love finances space. like a seer, with no hint of a sneer, nor a tone of thats-for-sure, i blabbered a music of philosophy on a thursday night to a wide-eyed friend whose eyebrows were en route to disappearing beneath his forehead.
in my life there are no accidental acts of lust. nor would accidental acts ever last.
in my life there are no discretionary expenditures. every penny is committed.
and i was about to say something all almighty when the muzzle of my neighbouring comrade hit me hard on my shin, a snortish snore followed, he apparently undisturbed by the things and thoughts that go bump in the night.
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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