I guess that somewhere out there there's someone who thinks that songs about snow falling and sitting by the fire roasting chestnuts are as out of place as a nun in a whore house, considering the Singaporean landscape.
Walking back to the bus stop next to church, I couldn't help but notice.
There was a certain forlornity in the sky. It's queer, but it was a sky that seemed sad. Was it contrast? The lines and lines of Christmas lights across the streets just came across as lonely. Where someone would be greeted with neverending pristine snow against a backdrop of still darkness; scattered yellow streams across the streets and a breath of white to warm your hands - a scenery of yellow sparkles against black. As if an entire colour was missing from the picture.
Was it company? Thoughts that wouldn't even have appeared in my mind had I been distracted by conversation with others. The fact that everyone was on their way back home, and mine happened to be different from the other two. Was I just projecting my feelings upon the view presented to me by the world? A mere coincidence that I happened to see this alone?
For a while, though, it just felt like I was the only person around. Really, I was. Being around in the SMU campus where there are large open fields of nothing when no one is around isn't the best way to give you the impression that there are fellow humans around.
But for the most of it, it was just me and the pitch black sky. A sky that made you think, wonder and awe. Perhaps Christmas' lingering feeling really is more artificial than I have imagined it to be.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Change
ノボル「ねえミカコ？ 俺はね」
ミカコ「私はね、ノボルくん。懐かしいものがたくさんあるんだ。ここにはなんにもないんだもん。例えばね」
ノボル「例えば、夏の雲とか、冷たい雨とか、秋の風の匂いとか」
ミカコ「傘に当たる雨の音とか、春の土の柔らかさとか、夜中のコンビニの安心する感じとか」
ノボル「それからね、放課後のひんやりとした空気とか」
ミカコ「黒板消しの匂いとか」
ノボル「夜中のトラックの遠い音とか」
ミカコ「夕立のアスファルトの匂いとか…。ノボルくん、そういうものをね、私はずっと」
ノボル「ぼくはずっと、ミカコと一緒に感じていたいって思っていたよ」
----------------------------------
Christmas has always been a time of peace and serenity for me. Carols down the shopping aisles, bells and decorations hung high, strings of lights shining along and adding to the beauty of the nighttime city scene. Silent and holy nights of peacefully staring out the bus window, seeing couples walk hand in hand, seeing shoppers struggle with big bags, seeing children mesmerized by a gargantuan Christmas tree at Takashimaya, seeing smiles everywhere.
Back then this time was about a cousin I held dear. Moving on to the next year which was going to be the same.
Then she didn't come for a while. This time was about playing with a sibling I held dear. Games and on and on and on. Getting a PS2 on Christmas Day and finishing FFX before my secondary school life began.
Then he left for NS, and suddenly Sec 3 was very much to myself. IBA brought my mind to work. The prospect of it all was admittedly rather interesting, and it's been on my mind rather often. This year is rather similar, in some ways.
But this year there's the issue of not actually knowing who I'm going to be with next year, yet I guess that really is just a small issue in the end, isn't it.
It's been a while since I've seen one of my cousins, a long while since I've seen the other. Honestly, it's almost like that feeling I had waiting to see someone's face just that once a year. The kind of feeling that I used to live on for a long time. A kind where you recognize the vanity of something yet just hope positively, never letting the futility of it all change anything. Who knows; it's very likely this will be the last time I ever see her as a teenager. Maybe the next time I'll see her is when she's begun work. Maybe the next time I'll see her is when I've begun work. But who cares about the maybe? At least there's an eventual ending.
I remember forlornly the weak smile I had facing a person whom I knew saw me the same way I saw her: a mere fragment of the past. The sort of thing where you cared about but it just faded away anyway.
Anyone around remember This lil' thing over here? Certain little things that just weren't exactly central to our lives, yet weren't completely insignificant either. A certain kind of amusement and entertainment that really belonged more to the community than to the individual. Really, rather similar to our $20 notes today.
Anyone around remembers the feeling of bare foot upon mosaic tiles? A feeling I'll never have unless I head over to my Malaysian relatives' house. The feeling somewhat akin to walking on a path of smooth pebbles, yet still rather different. Various sorts of feelings that never held central place in your life, but just existed there anyway.
Perhaps it's precisely due to the nature of such things that one only actually remembers about (or even notes the presence of) them when they're no longer existent. Perhaps it's even wrong to say that one even remembers about it. Forgetting about the trivial things that made life back then not unique as an individual, but maybe at a more communal level. The feeling of monsoon, of summer and autumn, of the evening train's wheels in the nearby yet distant tracks.
And gradually you realize that even if the individuals around you are the same, the culture, livelihood, and many more other things are already rather different.
And then you realize how much more alien it is without the individuals around you there in the first place. And perhaps, by then, the world is no longer merely the region in which your SMSs can reach in less than an hour.
ミカコ「私はね、ノボルくん。懐かしいものがたくさんあるんだ。ここにはなんにもないんだもん。例えばね」
ノボル「例えば、夏の雲とか、冷たい雨とか、秋の風の匂いとか」
ミカコ「傘に当たる雨の音とか、春の土の柔らかさとか、夜中のコンビニの安心する感じとか」
ノボル「それからね、放課後のひんやりとした空気とか」
ミカコ「黒板消しの匂いとか」
ノボル「夜中のトラックの遠い音とか」
ミカコ「夕立のアスファルトの匂いとか…。ノボルくん、そういうものをね、私はずっと」
ノボル「ぼくはずっと、ミカコと一緒に感じていたいって思っていたよ」
----------------------------------
Christmas has always been a time of peace and serenity for me. Carols down the shopping aisles, bells and decorations hung high, strings of lights shining along and adding to the beauty of the nighttime city scene. Silent and holy nights of peacefully staring out the bus window, seeing couples walk hand in hand, seeing shoppers struggle with big bags, seeing children mesmerized by a gargantuan Christmas tree at Takashimaya, seeing smiles everywhere.
Back then this time was about a cousin I held dear. Moving on to the next year which was going to be the same.
Then she didn't come for a while. This time was about playing with a sibling I held dear. Games and on and on and on. Getting a PS2 on Christmas Day and finishing FFX before my secondary school life began.
Then he left for NS, and suddenly Sec 3 was very much to myself. IBA brought my mind to work. The prospect of it all was admittedly rather interesting, and it's been on my mind rather often. This year is rather similar, in some ways.
But this year there's the issue of not actually knowing who I'm going to be with next year, yet I guess that really is just a small issue in the end, isn't it.
It's been a while since I've seen one of my cousins, a long while since I've seen the other. Honestly, it's almost like that feeling I had waiting to see someone's face just that once a year. The kind of feeling that I used to live on for a long time. A kind where you recognize the vanity of something yet just hope positively, never letting the futility of it all change anything. Who knows; it's very likely this will be the last time I ever see her as a teenager. Maybe the next time I'll see her is when she's begun work. Maybe the next time I'll see her is when I've begun work. But who cares about the maybe? At least there's an eventual ending.
I remember forlornly the weak smile I had facing a person whom I knew saw me the same way I saw her: a mere fragment of the past. The sort of thing where you cared about but it just faded away anyway.
Anyone around remember This lil' thing over here? Certain little things that just weren't exactly central to our lives, yet weren't completely insignificant either. A certain kind of amusement and entertainment that really belonged more to the community than to the individual. Really, rather similar to our $20 notes today.
Anyone around remembers the feeling of bare foot upon mosaic tiles? A feeling I'll never have unless I head over to my Malaysian relatives' house. The feeling somewhat akin to walking on a path of smooth pebbles, yet still rather different. Various sorts of feelings that never held central place in your life, but just existed there anyway.
Perhaps it's precisely due to the nature of such things that one only actually remembers about (or even notes the presence of) them when they're no longer existent. Perhaps it's even wrong to say that one even remembers about it. Forgetting about the trivial things that made life back then not unique as an individual, but maybe at a more communal level. The feeling of monsoon, of summer and autumn, of the evening train's wheels in the nearby yet distant tracks.
And gradually you realize that even if the individuals around you are the same, the culture, livelihood, and many more other things are already rather different.
And then you realize how much more alien it is without the individuals around you there in the first place. And perhaps, by then, the world is no longer merely the region in which your SMSs can reach in less than an hour.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Three Drinks, The Final
Albert: Martin, can I ask a simple question?
Martin: Of course, old friend. Customers don't come in this hour anyway.
Albert: I know you've been doing this for some time and all, but what really made you want to be a bartender?
Martin: Hahaha, shouldn't you have asked this question sooner?
Albert: I don't know, I just never really thought about it.
Martin: Well then, have a drink first, will ya?
Albert: Sure. What's this one?
Martin: 1 measure Dry Vermouth, 1 measure Sherry, 1 measure Dubonnet, 1 measure Gin, and 1 dash Grand Marnier. What do you think is so special about this job, Albert?
Albert: Beats me, seriously.
Martin: For one, the job doesn't pay that well. It's more than a waiter, no doubt, but I'm sure my customers usually make more than I ever will. It's not the social networks, for sure; I would need to work at a bar more famous than this small adobe will ever be.
Albert: Then what is it, Martin?
Martin: Ever done a cocktail party before?
Albert: Haven't got the skills.
Martin: It's a rare feeling you get, something akin to giving a present. The moment where that one sip of your creation touches their palate, savoured, tasted and appreciated; the smile on the customer's face as he talks to his friends, swirling slowly the cup in his hand, occasionally bringing it to his mouth for another sip, with it a brighter smile. It is the smile of service, Albert, that keeps me here.
Albert: Why not anything else, then, Martin?
Martin: Because this, Albert, is nearly the pinnacle in service. A salesman delivers with his trademark smile products that are not his own; a waiter hardly any different. A chef serves a wonderful dish, but may never see the satisfaction of the diners who eat it. This is the pinnacle, Albert. There is true responsibility on my part, for I know the face of each and every single one of my patrons. I cannot betray them.
Albert: Betray?
Martin: Few other professions have it as serious. Have you ever seen a doctor prescribe a wrong medicine? This drink can be an elixir for the soul, or a poison feeding on the heart. Here's a question, Albert. I'm sure you remember this.
Albert: What is it?
Martin: If there was a drink out there that truly signified that you have matured, what would it be?
Albert: Fancy you asking me that question. Tea, coffee? What do you say?
Martin: What do I serve best? A person who can take this without the ill effects is one of self control, Albert. People have sought the elixir of eternity, but they search in vain, instead finding the poison of greed sucking at their very souls. Where is the line drawn? Where do the shades of grey end? This drink is proof of one who knows where the line ends, Albert. And it is my job - no, my life - to make sure that they do not cross the line unknowingly. And only when this is achieved do you see service done, Albert.
Albert: Your spirit is strong, Martin. This glass I hold here shows dedication; and more importantly it shows a beautiful sense of service.
Martin: 1 measure Dry Vermouth, 1 measure Sherry, 1 measure Dubonnet, 1 measure Gin, and 1 dash Grand Marnier. The drink of utmost loyalty to the customer. The drink to show the effort put into developing tenderness in the bar. The drink of servitude.
Albert: Apt words indeed. Might I be enlightened as to the name of this cocktail?
Martin: The Bartender, Albert.
Martin: Of course, old friend. Customers don't come in this hour anyway.
Albert: I know you've been doing this for some time and all, but what really made you want to be a bartender?
Martin: Hahaha, shouldn't you have asked this question sooner?
Albert: I don't know, I just never really thought about it.
Martin: Well then, have a drink first, will ya?
Albert: Sure. What's this one?
Martin: 1 measure Dry Vermouth, 1 measure Sherry, 1 measure Dubonnet, 1 measure Gin, and 1 dash Grand Marnier. What do you think is so special about this job, Albert?
Albert: Beats me, seriously.
Martin: For one, the job doesn't pay that well. It's more than a waiter, no doubt, but I'm sure my customers usually make more than I ever will. It's not the social networks, for sure; I would need to work at a bar more famous than this small adobe will ever be.
Albert: Then what is it, Martin?
Martin: Ever done a cocktail party before?
Albert: Haven't got the skills.
Martin: It's a rare feeling you get, something akin to giving a present. The moment where that one sip of your creation touches their palate, savoured, tasted and appreciated; the smile on the customer's face as he talks to his friends, swirling slowly the cup in his hand, occasionally bringing it to his mouth for another sip, with it a brighter smile. It is the smile of service, Albert, that keeps me here.
Albert: Why not anything else, then, Martin?
Martin: Because this, Albert, is nearly the pinnacle in service. A salesman delivers with his trademark smile products that are not his own; a waiter hardly any different. A chef serves a wonderful dish, but may never see the satisfaction of the diners who eat it. This is the pinnacle, Albert. There is true responsibility on my part, for I know the face of each and every single one of my patrons. I cannot betray them.
Albert: Betray?
Martin: Few other professions have it as serious. Have you ever seen a doctor prescribe a wrong medicine? This drink can be an elixir for the soul, or a poison feeding on the heart. Here's a question, Albert. I'm sure you remember this.
Albert: What is it?
Martin: If there was a drink out there that truly signified that you have matured, what would it be?
Albert: Fancy you asking me that question. Tea, coffee? What do you say?
Martin: What do I serve best? A person who can take this without the ill effects is one of self control, Albert. People have sought the elixir of eternity, but they search in vain, instead finding the poison of greed sucking at their very souls. Where is the line drawn? Where do the shades of grey end? This drink is proof of one who knows where the line ends, Albert. And it is my job - no, my life - to make sure that they do not cross the line unknowingly. And only when this is achieved do you see service done, Albert.
Albert: Your spirit is strong, Martin. This glass I hold here shows dedication; and more importantly it shows a beautiful sense of service.
Martin: 1 measure Dry Vermouth, 1 measure Sherry, 1 measure Dubonnet, 1 measure Gin, and 1 dash Grand Marnier. The drink of utmost loyalty to the customer. The drink to show the effort put into developing tenderness in the bar. The drink of servitude.
Albert: Apt words indeed. Might I be enlightened as to the name of this cocktail?
Martin: The Bartender, Albert.
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