we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
4:06 PM
Christmas
is always a beautiful season. so many things have happened, so many things have been said, let me see where to start.
of course, first thanks to colin for opening up his disgustingly mammoth residence and calling upon the lost friends of the forgotten grave. it was awkward i must admit, with this person here and that person there last spoken to four years back in the land of the white, even wei an didn't seem like the wetdick i last caught up with at St Kilda's beach 4000 miles away. but what beats catching up with the likes of xiaozheng, dalglish, keith, weijin under the esteem of a little red wine and the trademark insanity of mr D&G diving into the pool for his dear bottle of chivas.
then came the annual gathering of my aunty uncle aunty uncle aunty uncle aunty uncle aunty uncle cousin cousin cousin cousin cousin cousin cousin. i have grown without a doubt, and i see myself in the little puerile blossoming cousins who retrace a marked journey ten years ago. life really, is quite short and it is in every such christmas gathering that prods me in nostalgic reminder of the best part of my life.
but christmas never is a sad moment for long, for it is in every such christmas gathering that my family members from every crack and cranny of the world gathers in fellowship to murder in mass the luxuries of the sea. uncles from New Zealand, my cousins from London and Canada and States, what an honour to be hooked onto a paternal international network.
but the best has yet to come. trudging to charlton lane where my best of pals awaited in a series of profanities, merry christmas to josh, cai, cs, mond, feng, hao, fulun (oh yes in church), and a merry merry christmas to xwei, colin, siew, rain, leeling, shengwei, weilin (dearly missed from a 10000 miles away), wanjun (dearly missed from a 1000 miles away), and the rest of you whole lot precious bunch. and a merry merry merry christmas to my dear princess and her little family and her very caring cousins. ha and who could forget felicia chin who never did take a day off work to grace the little party with so many smiles for the ever clitteringclickering camera.
and you cockster and your holy hen. a friendship sprouted so suddenly yet ever so profound amidst its infancy. a little catching up in the liquid kitchen beneath a christmas night's, on happy birthdays on quarrels on patchups on bintan on evermore. a lychee martini, a blue lagoon, a heineken, a minty froth cheers to a year of accord and many more to come.
hohoho. ain't christmas the season of expected meetings of the unexpected, and unexpected meetings of the expected. gabriel yam from the downunder and sean bai from court martial, how i miss those days of snow white hair and sky blue streaks.
to knot up that pretty ribbon atop the perfect christmas gift, my class came about a reopened kismis after a 2 years hiatus. merry christmas to one and all, to guest of honour xiaoming and sorely missed mrs tam. a beautiful night beneath a beautiful chandelier, with beautiful people and beautiful secrets. it must have been the alcohol.
three years back it was a camaraderie of tall people and short cards, two years back it was an amity of a happy friends club and a sensual faber hill, last year the season of turkeys and ham was dedicated to the green force, but this year its back with a bang. the novelty is starting to wear off a day after boxing, but my goodness. i would be a fool to have forgone the many things that have happened, and a greater one to have forgotten the many things that have been said.
christmas is indeed, always a beautiful season. merry christmas to one and all.
the voices in my head-
Friday, December 23, 2005
2:11 PM
Shadows
two young birds in an age old love.
i'm just not ready for it. let me be gone.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
12:25 AM
Untitled
why do you have to be so fucking difficult
down and sick again oh yes i know. so clear the fucking mucus coagulated tissue won't you?
the fucking routine bores me. a week of massive blood loss, a week before that of pre goodness knows what which is just a fucking excuse for bad moods, a week after that of endless tired rejuvenation, what remains in that miserable month is a solitary week and you have to be so fucking difficult by being sick just because you're fucking lazy. to pack your room and sweep your floor and fucking clear that mucus coagulated tissue.
my parents just got back today. isn't tearing me apart from my friends and passion and responsibilities enough.
fuck.
the voices in my head-
Thursday, December 15, 2005
2:05 PM
Silver
13th of december, it marked the death of a little something i know not.
when the final whistle shrilled away at the inter-formation basketball tournament `05 amidst the distant drums and the applause big or small, the funeral was laid. when i stepped off the courts moments before, two points down, with five fouls blemished upon the number 15, part of me had already withered. but i clasped my hands said a quick prayer and yelled my last to the defence of the remains, but 3rd division still faltered.
its been a day and a half and you ask me why a silver hanging off my neck dampens the utopian happy character i hold true to and i can find no answer. second is only the leader of a pack of a long line of losers, perhaps. but it must have been more to that. pride hurts me, but only for a trifle.
i say, its the let down of 14 other great players. a let down of a great would-be performance for the thunderous yellow audience and a lone friend. a let down of what-could-have-been a second championship of my second tournament. a let down of the end to a great season. i think and i sigh each split instant the ball floats across the courts. i scowl and i reflect each define moment centres tall and fat, scurry and hustle beneath the hoop. i smile and i recollect each boosting celebration of a mond's arc burning into the nets. and i say to myself, we could have won the game. we should have won the game.
i shall never miss my free throws ever again. ever. 13th of december, it marked the birth of a little something i know now.
the voices in my head-
Monday, December 12, 2005
2:37 AM
On Two
its been two years :)
and it still brings a smile to my face, each time i fondly recall that fateful night.
i love you.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, December 04, 2005
7:28 PM
Sleepbane
it is a holy sunday of the december fourth, and i wish my mum a happy 50th birthday. it would have been the thereabouts of 438000 hours you've lived by, while you may argue half a century sounds just a tad older, i see no difference. 50 years is by far just a passing of age, and you have taught me all i have been, and i thank you.
it would have been a little more holy. and a little more happy of course, if this boy's wishing needn't travel 4800 miles to the little suburb of melbourne. and what say you to being stuck in camp on a great sunny sunday, fulfilling officer duties by wasting away 24 beautiful hours cycling snippets of naps in the mind?
i feel almost like the white witch of narnia. a deplorable word upon a magnificent city, and all lies dead and quiet. peering over the camp grounds at a little past seven, it somehows fills me with a paradisiacal form of etherealness. far far away the twinkling Deepavali lights of a certain Indian family in Jurong West St 91 beckon to me, but i whisper to them i must stay. little to the west the fumes of a certain factory atop Jurong Island spins wonderful patterns in the crimson sky, and i clasp my hands and pray a rare prayer these days.
it is in such moments where time halts in precision, and a falling leaf off the third tree from the guardroom is noticed amongst the hustle of the world.
and it is also in such moments where i ponder about the little values which i lay my life upon. turning twenty hasn't been all that easy for me. it was a mark of a little green peter pan put into the brown green uniform in an affluent emotional effluence. it was also a mark of the beginning, a grooming of that tall stick to meet the expectant wanton votes of confidence.
waikit would do well, for sure.
ah don't you worry, i know you'll make it big next time.
you evil people. how many times do i need to fail to prove you wrong?
but i thank the vile. for it is in such hopes that drive me to the pinnacle. as my pride once had its way at the peak of basketball eminence, winning has become a tad quite difficult. trashing is rather routine. what challenges me now is to lose.
success is meant to be expected, chronic, somewhat customary. but failure drives deep, so deep it hurts.
and i am scared. for life isn't a box of chocolates, and it definitely ain't a match of basketball. yet people are expecting the same, the expected, the chronic, the customary, the success, and i fear to fail to deliver.
but i thank God i ain't a little pea. crushed beneath the weight of all, split and splintered, shrivelled and still. i brace myself to this task, and i mature.
so pray tell, what defines this maturity? had it been well that i matured so hurriedly, ready for the cold dark world, slipping off my cocoon of protection my mum has weaved since first light?
i mock at times, the people who waste away their hours by the ones and tens on the tens and ones of slumber much needed not. i mock at times, the people who splurge their (parents') tens and hundreds on the hundreds and tens of no-needs. and amidst these mocking, i pick up the ones and tens and hundreds of saved time and money and throw them into a very grownup thing called a fixed deposit, or pick up a very grownup thing called tutoring the kids.
but at the end of the day, who is happy and who is not and who is right and who is wrong? the little green boy who fights so hard to live in a grownup world, or not.
shall we wait for the invitational key only before we step into it, or scramble so hard to fight our place?
sometimes i wish i hadn't thought so hard, people hadn't expected so much. and my mind would live in peacefulness and in peace, in the mere present.
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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