we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
1:13 AM
Order
Dumbledore had his reasons not to tell Potter boy the big picture.
and he died anyway.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, June 24, 2007
10:45 AM
Retro
i sometimes ask myself, why did i ever decide to waste my time on this?
and i would have no answer, with fleeting thoughts of basketball, dim sum, friends and her meshed into a single train of thought lost in priority and gross lack of sleep.
and today, i awoke to two thank you messages. fresh strangers and strange freshies.
and these days, i sometimes tell myself, it wasn't really time wasted.
the voices in my head-
Friday, June 22, 2007
8:11 PM
Confier a qqn
there is a great need for myself with the entrustment of tasks and responsibilities to others.
perfection, i learnt, cannot be achieved alone.
the voices in my head-
196
every thing i had done, it was for the success of the camp. yes, an irritable perfectionist and a perfect irritant to those whom merely wanted to enjoy, that was quite the style i stroked.
and the only fault i deem fit for an apology, was my walking away. but even that, was for the better of the camp. you would not want i of last night at your cheer fight, throat burnt eyes burning.
face it, we fucked up.
and so it is, we're at this crossroads and there are two ways about it. to skulk like we always do, behind one another and push the blame from him to her, her to they, they to it, it to them. or quite optimistically, lets grief for this event and its concomitant circumstances, learn from it, and move on.
it had been most enjoyable planning this catastrophe with seven other silly things quite alike myself. but it had not been pleasant at all, to have our plans implemented all by ourselves.
i will be honest now, and you should not be any bit surprised since the day i replied sharon, for this is quite the way i work and speak - if you had read the mail, that is. it had not been a privilege to work with you, but it was my pleasure in getting to know you. we would in rare occasions work with one another henceforth, but if anything could be salvaged from it, lets take this debacle in heartened spirits and we could laugh upon it when our balls and boobs start to sag.
happy holidays.
the voices in my head-
Friday, June 15, 2007
2:10 AM
Right Turn
there is a thing that i ought to learn. sometimes it ain't about the rights and wrongs, but the right of graciousness to allow the wrong to fade into nothingness.
often in a heated debate, i am scarcely wrong. yet just as often, i can hardly wait, to stir that debated heat into an incensed furnace ready to consume the wrong and wronged.
alas, i get nothing out of that but a teabag of wit and distanced admiration.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
9:43 AM
Clock
i need forty eight hours a day.
and four ligaments a knee.
the voices in my head-
Saturday, June 02, 2007
9:47 PM
Courtship
i shoot two hundred balls each day, a slight ache on my left knee and perspiration dripping as always, like a running tap off the seams of my trousers.
it was yesterday, at 5pm, that this girl came to join me on my half of the court. she came from afar, her thanks peppered with an accent half mainland chinese half colonial english. international school i reckon. mixed blood possibly, a distinct shade of chestnut in her hair. swished like a pony's tail each time she tossed the ball a perfect arch, and i drew to a measure that she could have had a field percentage of 60%, impressive indeed.
the glowering sun bore upon us, yet she hit the rims relentlessly. such fierce determination drew a streak of admiration from myself, and i am one who rarely respects, much least admires. she broke into perspiration quite soon, though not at my extent nor unfortunately at my expense, and she looked a wreck of dishevelment, locks of twined hair resembling the winter hay. but somehow it exculpated the fact of playing the sport for an image, a cool image portrayed of a female basketballer. she played the game for the game, she loved it for it.
i hit my 200th ball, finished it with a consecutive 6th three pointer. and i collapsed in a heap quite unceremoniously by the side and excused my discourtesy by taking the opportunity to adjust my $150 knee brace.
"i had one of those, two years back. a bad fracture, and ligament tear. you have to watch it, it gives the nastiest aches"
i was stumped for words. i tried to salvage my mind for a teabag of witty talk, but the shock had quite overwhelmed me.
the shock arising from a little beauty speaking all of a sudden amidst two hours of shared courtship, pun definitely unintended. or perhaps the shock that someone had sustained an injury much like myself, yet ever bolstered by the same drive that dies not despite blow upon blow, mind body and soul.
"yes mum, on my way back for dinner" i heard her speak into the phone as my thoughts splintered into the evening sun.
she was at the very most, a tender fourteen.
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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