Suzu: Soon the bells will be ringing, Innocia.
Innocia: Christmas is still a month and twenty-five, Suz.
Suzu: Yes, little Christmas girl. But the Church rings them twelve a year, and tomorrow the eleventh.
Innocia: I don't think that many people go around marking the occasion if it's so often each year, you know. Is it that important?
Suzu: What makes you think it's important? It is merely a mark of the beginning again, isn't it? To one such as you. Something so trivial that people regard it as a mere amusement every first.
Innocia: A mere thought indeed. But I suppose the renewal of months is at least of certain significance.
Suzu: Why a bell, Innocia? Have you ever wondered?
Innocia: ...not really. Is it not its clarity and loudness that rings like the cawing birds? Why the question?
Suzu: Because you don't really think about it. Listen carefully to what the bells sound like. A cry of loneliness from high above, unable to ever be alongside people. A wish for those so far below to ascend from the depths they have sunken to. A mourning for the world which has been abandoned by mankind. Listen to it, Innocia, and reflect. Its call is crisp but sad, and strong but frail. Each cry is a tick closer to the end, and each chime is a mourning for them all.
Innocia: Why do you take such a negative view, Suzu? Can't you see it the other way round?
Suzu: I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean.
Innocia: It is because it is a new month, Suzu. A chance to renew oneself; a time to start again; a way to make up for the mistakes of the past. For this chance nothing rings louder than the bells of the church, hanging high atop, their resonating chimes a relief and a call for one to firm up. And moreso, a call for worshippers to enter and give praise for this chance to redeem themselves, to worship. Each call is beautiful yet firm, joyful yet stern, and soft yet powerful. Give thanks, Suzu, for you can still hear the bells for time to come. There are those who are deaf to its ringing, and there are those for whom the bell no longer chimes for. Each sound is a month for you to relish, and each day of its silence is one you should never take for granted.
Suzu: ...I suppose it is like you to see things that way.
Innocia: What do you think it feels like to stare down at everyone the way they do? It isn't always a sad feeling, y'know. I'm sure they chime for hope and not for mourning. How about this? I'll treat you to a drink tomorrow, a toast to November. Albert'll pay. And we'll walk around, and then you can see it. I'm sure.
Suzu: See what?
Innocia: That whoever it is, whenever it is, and wherever it is, the bells will not bring a message of sadness to them. Promise?
Suzu: I guess I have to.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Message To An Ex-Friend
Riezz: Saisell Rumerl, the outcast. Left from the Academy?
Saisell: Indeed I have. As much as I respect and hold the place in high regard, I feel that I had no choice but to leave for a better place.
Riezz: And where would you find this better place, Saisell?
Saisell: Where there is peace, o traveller, where I can write in peace.
Riezz: And where will you find this peace, Saisell?
Saisell: Where there are my kind, o jest, where I can be with my kind.
Riezz: And where will you find your kind, Saisell?
Saisell: Why do you continue?
Riezz: Because you realize that you can no longer answer the question so easily.
Saisell: I do suppose I need to give such an issue more thought, but such thought has little bearing considering I will be leaving anyway.
Riezz: Do tell on that thought, then.
Saisell: It's culture. I don't fit in. I find myself more comfortable with those from elsewhere, and yet I can't even feel remotely at ease with those nearby me. It's like every word of mine here is judged for lies. Can you live in this suffocating environment?
Riezz: Do you even make an effort to fit in? Or perhaps you are among those who complain but do naught?
Saisell: What jest do you speak, Riezz? Have I not joined their councils, societies, and their mockeries of clubs? Is that not the effort made to associate with them, and the same effort that is completely ignored and rejected? Whatever I have done for these groups they have not reciprocated.
Riezz: Your friends?
Saisell: Few, but they are important. They are the only few in the entire academy I feel comfortable talking with, and I think it were the greatest loss that I fail to have more time with them.
Riezz: ...I apologize for my crudeness. I have my doubts whether vice versa should apply.
Saisell: Hmm?
Riezz: Look at those photos. Look at these councils you are a part of. Look at your face amongst them, amongst the smiling ones. Have you ever heard people angry about it?
Saisell: Should I care about the worthless opinions of those fools?
Riezz: You should care about their eyes. The eyes of those that stare at you while you nonchalantly continue talking, being a bother while in the presence of others. Look at these photos. Look at your smile, and the smiles of others. Now look at their eyes. Look at your smile. Do you know the curses, the tears, the depth of emotions caused by that smile and for that smile?
Riezz: You probably don't, do you. Never knowing when to stop, never knowing when to keep out, never knowing when you are a nuisance... pathetically ungracious, don't you think so?
Saisell: You speak highly unlike your usual self, Riezz.
Riezz: For circumstances highly unlike human sense. Forget this. You wouldn't understand a single bit of this, Saisell. But mark, you will never find your peace.
Saisell: And at least they may never find theirs with me around. It works either way.
Saisell: Indeed I have. As much as I respect and hold the place in high regard, I feel that I had no choice but to leave for a better place.
Riezz: And where would you find this better place, Saisell?
Saisell: Where there is peace, o traveller, where I can write in peace.
Riezz: And where will you find this peace, Saisell?
Saisell: Where there are my kind, o jest, where I can be with my kind.
Riezz: And where will you find your kind, Saisell?
Saisell: Why do you continue?
Riezz: Because you realize that you can no longer answer the question so easily.
Saisell: I do suppose I need to give such an issue more thought, but such thought has little bearing considering I will be leaving anyway.
Riezz: Do tell on that thought, then.
Saisell: It's culture. I don't fit in. I find myself more comfortable with those from elsewhere, and yet I can't even feel remotely at ease with those nearby me. It's like every word of mine here is judged for lies. Can you live in this suffocating environment?
Riezz: Do you even make an effort to fit in? Or perhaps you are among those who complain but do naught?
Saisell: What jest do you speak, Riezz? Have I not joined their councils, societies, and their mockeries of clubs? Is that not the effort made to associate with them, and the same effort that is completely ignored and rejected? Whatever I have done for these groups they have not reciprocated.
Riezz: Your friends?
Saisell: Few, but they are important. They are the only few in the entire academy I feel comfortable talking with, and I think it were the greatest loss that I fail to have more time with them.
Riezz: ...I apologize for my crudeness. I have my doubts whether vice versa should apply.
Saisell: Hmm?
Riezz: Look at those photos. Look at these councils you are a part of. Look at your face amongst them, amongst the smiling ones. Have you ever heard people angry about it?
Saisell: Should I care about the worthless opinions of those fools?
Riezz: You should care about their eyes. The eyes of those that stare at you while you nonchalantly continue talking, being a bother while in the presence of others. Look at these photos. Look at your smile, and the smiles of others. Now look at their eyes. Look at your smile. Do you know the curses, the tears, the depth of emotions caused by that smile and for that smile?
Riezz: You probably don't, do you. Never knowing when to stop, never knowing when to keep out, never knowing when you are a nuisance... pathetically ungracious, don't you think so?
Saisell: You speak highly unlike your usual self, Riezz.
Riezz: For circumstances highly unlike human sense. Forget this. You wouldn't understand a single bit of this, Saisell. But mark, you will never find your peace.
Saisell: And at least they may never find theirs with me around. It works either way.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Results
And I can rest at last.
As much as I would berate myself for losing out to a number of people, I have rather little idea as to how well the classes did as a whole, so I don't even know if this is a good score or not.
I don't know whether I'm on middle or higher ground, but given how people have gotten 88 and 89 for averages, I'm far. A tad far, if tad were 10 marks and more. Was it effort? Was it skill? I really have no idea what set us apart, even though I really bear no hope at nearing that level.
"Hey, what did you get?"
"Sucks lah, 77 only. You?"
"Same. So don't call it sucky, ok?"
- Between The Eighteenth and Twentieth
Though I do agree secretly. Ironic how much I hated those overachievers who failed to overachieve, when two years down the road I end up the same. That's life for you, I suppose.
I'm thankful for my Amath grade which I do need to thank Rick for. Chem and Physics, not much to say. Geog was a pleasant surprise, Language Arts a rude shock. Chinese and Cmath were, well, well as always. IHS was good, I suppose.
I remember in Term 3 that I needed to work hard. I remember in Term 3 that I did work hard. And those around me probably can testify to that. I remember a wager with a friend over results, speculating that we would do rather equal. He beat my average by 6 marks.
I remember walking up and down the overhead bridge on my way to tuition, a path I chose myself. I remember telling myself that I would work hard so I wouldn't repeat my mistakes in Term 2.
Now imagine that everyone in the examination hall has pretty much as much motivation as you while undertaking the final examinations. While definitely not everyone is like this, and definitely there are those who don't study alot and still get way higher than I ever will, but it's still quite a scary thought in itself how conviction is possibly far more commonplace than anyone actually imagines. Perhaps for differing reasons, but pretty much close to everyone takes tuition. There're those who keep trying to aim for top even when they already are.
It's really hard to actually appreciate the amount of effort people actually put into something until you yourself try to emulate as such. But I'll suppose I'll forget all that soon enough.
As much as I would berate myself for losing out to a number of people, I have rather little idea as to how well the classes did as a whole, so I don't even know if this is a good score or not.
I don't know whether I'm on middle or higher ground, but given how people have gotten 88 and 89 for averages, I'm far. A tad far, if tad were 10 marks and more. Was it effort? Was it skill? I really have no idea what set us apart, even though I really bear no hope at nearing that level.
"Hey, what did you get?"
"Sucks lah, 77 only. You?"
"Same. So don't call it sucky, ok?"
- Between The Eighteenth and Twentieth
Though I do agree secretly. Ironic how much I hated those overachievers who failed to overachieve, when two years down the road I end up the same. That's life for you, I suppose.
I'm thankful for my Amath grade which I do need to thank Rick for. Chem and Physics, not much to say. Geog was a pleasant surprise, Language Arts a rude shock. Chinese and Cmath were, well, well as always. IHS was good, I suppose.
I remember in Term 3 that I needed to work hard. I remember in Term 3 that I did work hard. And those around me probably can testify to that. I remember a wager with a friend over results, speculating that we would do rather equal. He beat my average by 6 marks.
I remember walking up and down the overhead bridge on my way to tuition, a path I chose myself. I remember telling myself that I would work hard so I wouldn't repeat my mistakes in Term 2.
Now imagine that everyone in the examination hall has pretty much as much motivation as you while undertaking the final examinations. While definitely not everyone is like this, and definitely there are those who don't study alot and still get way higher than I ever will, but it's still quite a scary thought in itself how conviction is possibly far more commonplace than anyone actually imagines. Perhaps for differing reasons, but pretty much close to everyone takes tuition. There're those who keep trying to aim for top even when they already are.
It's really hard to actually appreciate the amount of effort people actually put into something until you yourself try to emulate as such. But I'll suppose I'll forget all that soon enough.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
People I Never Knew
An acquaintance left for India earlier today due to citizenship issues. Not that I really know him well or anything, but that's why he's an acquaintance and not a friend, is he? It is somewhat of a waste considering he was probably one of the few who I might've liked to be classmates with in IB, but I suppose I won't have that chance anymore.
I knew he was a smart person and a dedicated one too, but it was quite hilarious seeing his lack of common and trivial knowledge. Almost like Jarrel, except somewhat worse? I remember laughing so much at the thought of Bruce Almighty being a martial arts film, but I doubt I'd be hearing any more amusing anecdotes from him.
I asked if there was anything he regretted not doing. He listed some. Not training next year's team, not going for his primary school reunion, not meeting up with some teachers for the last time (The whole week was holidays save Monday and Tuesday, after all). Then he added that it was no use regretting since he couldn't change or rectify the situation in any way whatsoever.
Was that reason enough not to regret? I asked, but we didn't really discuss that. If he was right, though, regret'll probably be one of the most meaningless things I'll be seeing around. I should speak for myself too XD
A stranger is supposedly leaving the school, apparently to teach in the ACS at Malaysia instead of in Singapore. Strange because I don't know him well, but stranger because he doesn't know me. It was quite a pity because he was among the few teachers I would've liked to be taught by in IB.
I kind of envy the First and the Second batches, because they were the ones taught by this group of special teachers that probably really made ACS what it was. Particularly those with their 12 proud ACSian years, for they were taught even from Year 4. When the first batch of Year 5s came, they moved on to teach this new group, half neglecting us in the process. And then the Year 5s grew up, and they continued to nurture them.
Now as the First IB Batch leaves, some of them decide that the first shall be the last.
I recall seeing him at Serene Center, and the first time we crossed paths there I just bowed. The second time I just said 'Bye, Sir'. Stranger indeed, huh?
I shall never get to know either very well, but admittedly that has never been my concern, and vice versa shall never be theirs. There's nothing to regret, and there isn't any admittedly, but it does feel like a waste every now and then.
I wonder if either will read this blogpost, since both have read it before at least once. Meh, sucks to be the Third, huh.
I knew he was a smart person and a dedicated one too, but it was quite hilarious seeing his lack of common and trivial knowledge. Almost like Jarrel, except somewhat worse? I remember laughing so much at the thought of Bruce Almighty being a martial arts film, but I doubt I'd be hearing any more amusing anecdotes from him.
I asked if there was anything he regretted not doing. He listed some. Not training next year's team, not going for his primary school reunion, not meeting up with some teachers for the last time (The whole week was holidays save Monday and Tuesday, after all). Then he added that it was no use regretting since he couldn't change or rectify the situation in any way whatsoever.
Was that reason enough not to regret? I asked, but we didn't really discuss that. If he was right, though, regret'll probably be one of the most meaningless things I'll be seeing around. I should speak for myself too XD
A stranger is supposedly leaving the school, apparently to teach in the ACS at Malaysia instead of in Singapore. Strange because I don't know him well, but stranger because he doesn't know me. It was quite a pity because he was among the few teachers I would've liked to be taught by in IB.
I kind of envy the First and the Second batches, because they were the ones taught by this group of special teachers that probably really made ACS what it was. Particularly those with their 12 proud ACSian years, for they were taught even from Year 4. When the first batch of Year 5s came, they moved on to teach this new group, half neglecting us in the process. And then the Year 5s grew up, and they continued to nurture them.
Now as the First IB Batch leaves, some of them decide that the first shall be the last.
I recall seeing him at Serene Center, and the first time we crossed paths there I just bowed. The second time I just said 'Bye, Sir'. Stranger indeed, huh?
I shall never get to know either very well, but admittedly that has never been my concern, and vice versa shall never be theirs. There's nothing to regret, and there isn't any admittedly, but it does feel like a waste every now and then.
I wonder if either will read this blogpost, since both have read it before at least once. Meh, sucks to be the Third, huh.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
A Stranger's SMS
I got up the bus, crowded as ever, feeling generally pissed off. It was a rare moment of feeling pissed off with self, acquaintances, friends, family, strangers, institutions, businesses, organizations, concepts, and ideas.
"what did i do wrong? ...Message Sent." Bugger bus. Everyone's crowded around. I look around me, the nameless faceless individuals everywhere. I look over the shoulders of the person in front of me.
"don't do this to me please" and she cancelled it to "don't do this kind of things to me please". A faceless individual, yet such strong words; I can barely take it. So why do I keep looking down, over her shoulder? Why do I expose all her emotions and woes to me in that one instant, bright as day? I continue to look.
"i really can't take it when you do this to me." a single streak flowed down. Her grip was shaking very slightly. For this moment, it was as if I knew more than the other person did. I knew how sad she was. I know the effort she took in writing this short message. Everything that you didn't, and everything that you should have known.
"Message Sent." she closes it for a slight moment, her head drooped slightly more than before. What happened between this girl here and the guy that she's passing the message to? What can I understand from all this? What can I say to her? What can I do to change the situation? Nothing. I can only play observer and bear witness to this minute tragedy unfold before my eyes.
"Message Received. Open?" She fumbles around, fingers trembling slightly, head still low. "what kind of things? i never do anything wad." Almost, just almost, I could have heard something from her mouth that very instant, but it was no shout, rather a slight whimper, and her small cry for help was blocked out by the voices of the majority in the bus, constantly moving down.
"why do you keep saying that you mean nothing to me? just becoz i dun want 2 go with u then u say liddat. if its becoz i behave liddat yesterday then im really sorry please don't do this..." Why did it hurt so much just to read this, a message from a stranger to a stranger? I knew what was wrong. I didn't know what I should do, nor what could be done, nor whether I even had a right to do anything in the first place. Her pain and emotion gets to me just this small bit, yet whatever I feel now I knew that the other person would understand nothing at all.
"Message Sent." she looked up for a short while, and suddenly fumbled around again, hurriedly pushing the stop button. The slight reflection of her face in the bus window blurred every feature but her long black hair. She tried to push that one bit towards the exit.
"You getting off at this stop, girl?" A stranger, one moreso compared to her. She turned, and in that short instance that I saw her face I saw a smiling face that look more sad than anything. And when that face disappeared among the shadows, I knew that whatever I saw I will never see again, and whatever I saw he will never get to see.
"what did i do wrong? ...Message Sent." Bugger bus. Everyone's crowded around. I look around me, the nameless faceless individuals everywhere. I look over the shoulders of the person in front of me.
"don't do this to me please" and she cancelled it to "don't do this kind of things to me please". A faceless individual, yet such strong words; I can barely take it. So why do I keep looking down, over her shoulder? Why do I expose all her emotions and woes to me in that one instant, bright as day? I continue to look.
"i really can't take it when you do this to me." a single streak flowed down. Her grip was shaking very slightly. For this moment, it was as if I knew more than the other person did. I knew how sad she was. I know the effort she took in writing this short message. Everything that you didn't, and everything that you should have known.
"Message Sent." she closes it for a slight moment, her head drooped slightly more than before. What happened between this girl here and the guy that she's passing the message to? What can I understand from all this? What can I say to her? What can I do to change the situation? Nothing. I can only play observer and bear witness to this minute tragedy unfold before my eyes.
"Message Received. Open?" She fumbles around, fingers trembling slightly, head still low. "what kind of things? i never do anything wad." Almost, just almost, I could have heard something from her mouth that very instant, but it was no shout, rather a slight whimper, and her small cry for help was blocked out by the voices of the majority in the bus, constantly moving down.
"why do you keep saying that you mean nothing to me? just becoz i dun want 2 go with u then u say liddat. if its becoz i behave liddat yesterday then im really sorry please don't do this..." Why did it hurt so much just to read this, a message from a stranger to a stranger? I knew what was wrong. I didn't know what I should do, nor what could be done, nor whether I even had a right to do anything in the first place. Her pain and emotion gets to me just this small bit, yet whatever I feel now I knew that the other person would understand nothing at all.
"Message Sent." she looked up for a short while, and suddenly fumbled around again, hurriedly pushing the stop button. The slight reflection of her face in the bus window blurred every feature but her long black hair. She tried to push that one bit towards the exit.
"You getting off at this stop, girl?" A stranger, one moreso compared to her. She turned, and in that short instance that I saw her face I saw a smiling face that look more sad than anything. And when that face disappeared among the shadows, I knew that whatever I saw I will never see again, and whatever I saw he will never get to see.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
All the time
And it's almost over. And the flame is almost out. And soon there'll be the time in the world. And I'd have it all to myself.
And soon that time is gone, but I'd still have it all to myself.
And maybe some of you, of course. Hopefully.
And soon that time is gone, but I'd still have it all to myself.
And maybe some of you, of course. Hopefully.
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