we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
9:31 PM
Oxygen
and i'm in love with potassium.
happy blessed 26th. je t'aime, ma chérie.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, September 28, 2008
8:04 PM
DIY
fondled a drill. a hammer. a screwdriver. messed with nails. screws. axles.
a friend requested some help to shift furniture, which irked me because my definition of shifting furniture was a displacement of wooden material from site A to site B, not the retrofitting of wooden material from pieces of wood.
alas, i spent eight blooming hours on a saturday afternoon fitting up two desks and a wardrobe. quite admittedly a loser, but it turned out pretty enjoyable getting my callousing feet layered in cakes of dirt and blisters sprouting in full glory between my thumbs and index fingers.
my friend thought me sick, but perhaps i just love screwing around.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
11:07 PM
Life
watched 9/11 passed us by. heard about a close friend flung off the bike. mum of pastor fought a battle with cancer yet in vain. grandaunt of 93 slept forevermore.
we feel sad. outraged at times. death arouses an emotion that strips us of all pretenses, in pensive grief or hysterical rage. and perhaps, just perhaps. we thought we were meant to live forever.
in pursuit of careers. money. reputation. money. cars. money. cards. money. houses. money. clubs. money. women. money. fame. money. grant the cliché, ain't all earthly chattel come to naught when the last breath is drawn. and perhaps, just perhaps. we thought we were meant to live forever.
i remember my primary school. top student in the class and occasionally the top student of the cohort, i was quite a brilliant nutcase. but who else quite remembered this genius when we entered the next phase of life?
i remember my secondary school. porn vendor and avid gambler, raking thousands in two years. alas, a net return exceeding my dim sum business. but who quite remembered the person and not the nickname of my feigned corporation?
i remember my junior college. talentime champion. prom king. basketball nationals champion. its almost like how the WWF wrestlers would swing their belts of championship gold around in self-wallowing pity.
three little lives amidst my teenage years. and each supersedes the previous, essentially erasing the memory of its existence. yet i look back and shake my head in mocking laughter, why in the world did i spend so much effort popularizing my existence in that life. it didn't quite matter when the next life comes, did it.
and perhaps, just perhaps. i thought i was meant to live forever.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, September 14, 2008
11:06 PM
Cain
of defiance. of pride.
and it is said that pride is a personal commitment. it is an attitude which separates excellence from mediocrity. after all, mediocrity is not quite my cup of tea.
yet it is true, i don't need to be the only one special. no one had ever choked to death swallowing one's pride.
it is a fine balance, one which i have to realign my centre of gravity to. and it ain't facile, as i recall my physics tutor lilijun once saying that taller beings have a higher point of gravity, tipping over ever more so easily.
the voices in my head-
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
10:54 PM
Hurricane Ike
a very strong wind is coming this way. 160 an hour, so they say.
i sure hope to catch cows swirling by my window this weekend.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, September 07, 2008
8:49 PM
Chaff
who am i.
like a, target board. made of circles within circles.
or perhaps an onion. made of peels upon peels.
essentially nothingness if one were segmentalized into the building blocks of foundation. much like chaff blown into the wind when farmers toss, an illusion of freedom but more so, weightlessness and emptiness.
i am who i am, because of the relationships forged around me. friends play a big role, in shaping the person i am. i used to have this little notion of mimicking my defined set of heroes, where the green surpasses the blue in days of reckoning.
ain't quite the person to idolise in blind adoration, why. perhaps thats the reason i had never been to a concert. and these days, i had outgrown the idealism of modelling myself over seemingly heroic characters.
what then, would mould me into the person of tomorrow. who then.
in sanguine expectations, i look to her.
in peremptory faith, i look to Him.
the voices in my head-
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
11:02 PM
Post
i have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, i am ungrateful to these teachers.
it was a weird encounter.
this stranger brushed past me as i balanced my textbooks and lapop precariously, uncharacteristic of the hippy culture in Austin. too intrigued to harbour a tad of ill intent, i even opened the gates to my apartment for him as he did not have the access card.
it turned out, a postman he is. one who could not deliver any mail as my apartment mail boxes were still down and out.
and as he sought to collect the outgoing mail, the act of kindness had apparently surprised him and we exchanged names. he quipped that i had a chimerical nickname and a bizarre accent. of course, i fervently defended my name and declared in full ardent with the fact that most people back in Singapore do not have names of Matthew-Mark-Luke-John.
"Sin-a-poor?" he asked.
"yes Sin-ga-pore."
and he excitedly scurried back to the postvehicle to retrieve a parcel from Singapore. to me.
"the parcel caught my attention because who in the world sends a parcel without writing the country its posted to?! its lucky that we Americans know that Texas is in the United States and bother to write it up for you" he mocked.
i know only of one girl who is capable of such feats. that very instant, i would bet half my dick without a glance at the parcel that the delivery was meant for me.
i believed that i would have to disagree with Kahlil Gibran.
yet stranger in all sense of the word, i am grateful to these teachers.
the voices in my head-
Monday, September 01, 2008
9:08 PM
on Housemates
there lived a wuss who has an execrable dislike for cold water by the name of Justin Tan Jerzy. incidentally, he is also my room mate and i begrudgingly fold his underwear each night and wash his vomit-stained shirt after he had his virgin drink at the age of twenty-four.
but yesterday, he taught me that sometimes it isn't about the rights i have but rather, the right things to do.
and for that, i would begrudgingly continue to fold his panties.
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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