Sunday, January 25, 2009


The first month has nearly gone, and with it the beginnings of a number of choices.

The first was that of joining choir. It was a most bizzare choice considering that I have lost a lot of my time to it (3/5th my after-school hours are gone now) yet I don't really particularly regret it when I actually go for practise sessions. Kind of like kendo when I first started; though my Wednesdays were completely burnt and turned into wasted days (or Most Unproductive Days, as dn/dy would put it), I kind of didn't mind. In fact, it was pretty fun. And this is pretty fun too.

The second choice was that of stopping Kendo for now (hopefully not forever). I ended up missing a lot of sessions in December and November, a rather terrible outcome. I think I'm currently so out of it that I'm rather afraid to go back anytime soon. After all, even my feet seem to have healed completely. It's a waste, though. I wonder how far the rest of those who are still continuing have gone.

The third choice (not really one) was that of being chairman. It's given me rather queer thoughts about the differences between chairs and sofas, and whether sofas can be chairs and chairs can be sofas. There's also the question of why the chair became the sofa why the sofa seemed to be turning into a chair (maybe it's an issue of chairishing. Then again I doubt so.) and whether the sofa actually tried to turn into a chair or not. But well, a chair's a chair and a sofa's a sofa whether or not they try to turn into each other or not. I think I do a decent job, being a rather chairitable person and all. I think so at least.

I wonder what other choices I'll be making along the way. It's been a long way and the number of forks left are whittling down to to the single split at the end -

success or not.

I wonder how much I can achieve without compromising it all. Now that's a thought, isn't it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Piano Man - The Old Man

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday night. The regulars are shuffling into their usual seats, while John the bartender prepares the drinks for them. Paul and Davy are chatting at the side, John's cracking a joke with a newcomer while fixing up a Martini for him, the waitresses are fluttering around. The faces move in and out. And across all the time, an old man sits by me, staring into space.

John makes his way over to him. "Here's your Tonic and Gin, mister." The man nods and stares blankly into the drink, into the lime amongst the ice. Perhaps his life has been equally lost. He takes a sip every once in a while, but his face never shows any expression. No sadness. No happiness. He looks at me, staring into my eyes blankly like an empty doll would.

"Is something the matter, sir?" I ask, cordially as possible. He just stares at me.

"Son, are you the pianist around here?"

"Yes, I am. Would you want me to play something you fancy, sir?" His face stays emotionless. Expressionless. He stares.

"Son, can you play me a memory?" A sip of the gin, and a face slightly dimmed.

"What kind of memory?" His eyes stay on the glass in front of him, never once moving to me.

"I don't know son." and we kept silent. He continued to stare at the drink.

"Sir, why Tonic and Gin?" I try to make some conversation, but he continues to stare at the drink, not replying.

Slowly, he looks up at me.

"Son, will you listen to a memory? A bittersweet memory of the youth that I had." I said yes to him, and his face showed the slightest hint of a smile.

"I was once your age, son. A young man with talent, emotion, the power to sway people. Most important of all, though. I had a love. Violet - her name if I recall. A simple girl, and a beautiful girl. A wonderful life I led. She was a beautiful woman I'd have lived my life for, and I sincerely wished to spend my life with her." He took another sip of the drink, then procured a silver ring with a small, exquisite amethyst at its tip.

"This was her favourite drink, Gin and Tonic. A sweet, simple drink. I asked her out one night, ring in hand. I came early and asked John to place the ring inside her cocktail beforehand. Change it to a flute glass too, while I was at it." Another sip of his gin, eyes still looking down.

"She never came." he said with a wistful tone to his voice, and a resigned swirl of his tonic and gin. He then looked at me.

"Do you know why the call this a tonic and gin, son?" I didn't know.

"Because it's made of tonic water and gin?" he swirled the drink in his hand again, staring into it.

"Take a sip, son." And he handed the drink to me. It was bitter, yet slightly sweet.

"It used to be a cure, son. A cure for malaria. Tonic water used to have quanine inside it to kill malaria, but slowly it became more sweet and less medicinal. And now, all it can cure is this heart of mine. This heart that bled to death ages ago." He looked at me again.

"Son, can you play me a memory?"

"What kind of memory, sir?"

"I don't know what kind of memory it is. But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man's clothes." I stood up and sat at the piano.

As I played, he continued to stare at the drink. What did he ever see in the drink? My eyes remain fixed while the melody flows, but he never shifts his vision. Slowly, he begins to cry. He says something, but the melody of the piano drowns out his words.

He smiles, even if for just the briefest moment, and cries immeasurably. I wonder what memory he had remembered.


Based off the song.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009


Some minutes of life just seem strangely amusing.


Jarrel sees my bro's retainers.

Jarrel: Are those your retainers?

Gwin: No, they're Herrick's.

Jarrel: You had retainers?!

Herrick: You didn't know?

Jonny: Oh man I didn't know that.

Gwin: He's had them for quite a while, you know.

Herrick: Yeah. Quite a long time already. I just don't wear them in school.

Jarrel: Uh huh.

Herrick: Nor when you guys are around.

Jarrel: Uh huh.

Jonny: Ok...

Herrick: Nor when I go out with you guys.

Jonny: ...

Herrick: Nor when I go over to friend's houses and sleep over. Nor when you guys sleep over here.

Gwin: Yeah. You get it, right?

Jarrel: it's night only?

Jonny: man Jarrel it means you're freaking gullible.

Jarrel: What?

Herrick: You know, I'd have to wear braces before I wore retainers, yeah?

Jarrel: You know right. I never knew Jeremy Goh wore retainers?

Herrick: never saw him wear braces?

Jarrel: I didn't know him then.

Herrick: ......and you thought I wore braces when? P1?

Jarrel: Could be what!

Jonny: That is some screwed up teeth.

Gwin: Or maybe you're just really gullible Jarrel.

Jonny: Well, it's ok. The word 'gullible' can't even be found in the dictionary in the first place.

Jarrel: Really?


For someone so smart, he's really quite dumb.

Monday, January 05, 2009


It has been a most interesting way to begin the year.

I've had messages and signs constantly coming into my life. Though I suppose the first one was last December, I've had 3 consecutive messages over the days as of recent (Technically 4, but one's a bit of a lesser message.) and 4 in total (Technically 5 for aforementioned reasons)

The first message was predominantly a message from the past. It was a message to kill off a past me in the hopes that a new self would come around and take over for 2009. A message from a present self about an old self to my present self (potentially mistaken as my old self) and a most interesting one indeed. A painful message, bittersweet in nature, and perhaps a bit of underlying reminiscence and nostalgia and thankfulness. It was a message that signalled to me that 2009 was definitely coming and I was definitely in need of changing. That the old self was undesirable in some sense of the word and that something new was required to take over. Perhaps it was the first message to bring me to the current state that I am at this current point in time.

The second message is a queer one, and in retrospect a rather ironic and comical one. It was a message that whether or not I had changed, there would be aspects of me that stayed. Certain things I was capable of. Things that people could see. Talents, flaws, capabilities and the rest of the character package. Though I admit I've tried to escape from such responsibilities once, I suppose such things come back to haunt me. Is it a curse or a blessing or a mere reminder? The message is certainly a queer one, and one that brings with it new responsibilities, possibilities and perspectives to bring for the new year. A most interesting message brought from the present world to my present self.

The third message was a beautiful celebration, a most wonderful ceremony. In this message I learnt for myself what true love was for other people, or at the very least my interpretation of such. I realized what it was like for someone to truly love another person. It was pure, most unlike the kinds of love I had seen prior. An exaggeration perhaps, but the message was a lucid one to me. It was a message towards my present self; a message that brought understanding to the idea and concept I had so mistakenly thought of prior. The message also showed to me that time passes by ever so quickly, but human ties do not break so easily. It taught me that people outside of occupation are people, that everyone is human and everyone can partake in celebration and happiness in such a beautiful event. And in a sense, it taught me to be patient as life shall eternally provide. A beautiful message from the present world to myself and the world that lies before me - a present from the past for the future.

The fourth message is the most ambiguous, vague and troubling one. It was a message on faith, on social inertia, and on motivations. It was a message from the past to the present, from the present to the future, and from the future to the current self. All this caused by the past. It was a message that required a reply from me, at least mentally and spiritually. No doubt, a difficult message to deal with. It spoke of the past and the change to the present. It spoke of the changes of the present and the potential changes towards the future. And most importantly, it posed a very important message to me - that the people around me had answers towards the potential changes towards the future, and these answers in themselves were changes towards the future. No doubt I would have to join them and take a stand as to what change towards the future I would have to take.

The fifth and final message is one mystical in nature. It is an abstract message, one in reference to my present and my future (the latter particularly). A series of predictions, perhaps. One more reliable than Darrell's bugger rickroll at the very least. This message provided quite a bit of food for thought for me. Why? I can provide no clear answer. Was it because it gave an interesting outlook on the future? Was it because it gave a very reasonable and expectable outlook on it? I am unsure at current. But there is something particularly interesting in the message bearer - a lovelorn lady. What were her thoughts on it? What kind of life does she think I - and everyone else - will lead? Will I ever meet these people again? I am unsure. But as vague and out-of-line it might have been with the future, it has been disturbingly accurate with regards to the present.

Another story for the implications of them, but they are most interesting messages to start a year with indeed.

Saturday, January 03, 2009

Mr and Mrs. Mark Tay

It's been a most beautiful wedding. The most wonderful I've seen in my life. (Skeptics who say I have lived a short life should know that adults felt the same way, albeit 'amongst the most' instead of 'most'.)

What made it so special? Was it the song? The purity and truth in its lines and lyrics?

Perhaps it's a bit of the lyrics. A song about the friend we had in Jesus. About what life really is. About Jesus. A friend who's there and will care for you and shoulder all your burdens. A beautiful song for a beautiful ceremony.

Was it the pastor? The meditation was charming, truthful and beautiful, even if it were informal at times.

Perhaps it's a bit of the pastor. Though her talking I knew that even moreso than as a pastor overseeing a marriage, she seemed like a mother, a caring wise mother of a handsome man and a beautiful woman. But what could the pastor alone do?

But I think the one most beautiful aspect of it was the bride and the groom themselves. The fact that it seemed so much like a wedding, yet so much unlike it at the same time. There was nothing fake about it. There was no need to pretend. No formalities despite the formality. The groom and bride really were the happiest and luckiest people on Earth that very moment. It didn't feel as much like a wedding as much as like a celebration. I realize a wedding is a celebration, but the word wedding feels more ceremonial in nature. It's different to me altogether.

The bride's bouncy nature, the groom's cheerful reciprocation of it, and more importantly the fact that we all know that that's how they act all the time. The fact that you don't really actually have to wait for a pastor to say you may kiss the bride to kiss her. That you don't need to just stay in place all the way and wait for visual cues and all sorts of stuff. There was a natural feel to it (this belittles the entire thing. I'm sorry)

What is a marriage? Two people coming together and living together for eternity, isn't it? Then why the need for formality? Why the need for putting up fronts? Why the trouble to say 'I do'?

I believe I truly saw love in every action they made. I believe the entire church-worth of guests did too. I believe they will be happy.

As little as I may know you two, I wish for eternal happiness for the both of you. Congratulations, Mr and Mrs. Mark Tay.

Thursday, January 01, 2009

New Year - Heads

Finally a new year. A new beginning.

It's been painful, it's been sweet, it's been hard but it's complete.

Yet something doesn't really change.

It's always beautiful. All of it. Friends. Family. Love. Faith. Hope. Joy. Reason. Motivation. Even pain.

It's queer, but I still love all of it. The world around me. The friends I have. The state I'm in (Maybe not =P)

But really, it's been a great world to live in and all. Don't you think so? No matter how painful it feels at times, it's hard to really honestly say you hate all of it. Because everything goes on, good or bad. And in the end, the world's still the world. And I love the world.

I would write thanks to everyone but I'm lazy. So there. =p

New Year - Tails

And it's nearly the end of the first day of New Year's.

And it's the first year I didn't end with Owaranai Ashita He. (addendum: apparently I didn't last year. Hmm)

Looking at the posts of last Christmas, I realized that I really spent three hundred and fucking sixty five days to clear it up. How terrible of me.

Only now do I realize that I'd been emotionally stuck in the pits for so long. I'd never even noticed. Funny how that works.

What are the costs of aiming to feel alive? The fact that you would wish you were dead.
What are the costs of having hope? The fact that you would wish you had never hoped.
What are the costs of bearing faith? The fact that faith would betray you so.

Why do you want to have hope? Because with hope you can continue, persist, triumph.
Why do you want to have faith? Because you believe in a person, an organization, an idealology.

Then, why do you want to feel alive?

Is it because you want meaning in life?
Is it because you're afraid of mundaneness?
Is it because you're don't want to feel dead?

Do you want to share a story with someone?
Do you want to share a life with someone?
Do you want to share a tomorrow with someone?

Why? Must your story be told?
Must your life be paired?
Must your tomorrow be alongside someone else?

It's a long climb uphill.

How long before you stop walking hand in hand?
How long before you start letting go of them?
How long before you start losing the people you walk alongside with?
How long before even a trace of their shadow is gone?

How long before you realize you're alone?
How long before you wonder how long you've walked?
How long before you wish you could turn around?

How long before you start stepping on others?
How long before the path is painted red?

How long before you reach the top?

It's been a bittersweet year. So sweet. So very sweet. So very, very bitter.