Lost

Eight Years Ago:

he strains to see her in the dark, sitting a metre of so across him. he can hardly make out her features, let alone make eye contact. she's a friend of his cousin whom he met online when his silly cousin added her to his contact list and was probarly to lazy to delete it. he recalls their first encounter online, or at least he tries to. it comes back to him in bits and pieces. the only thing he remembers clearly was his confident online flirting with her. he smiles. how interesting. he keeps his eyes locked on her, trying desperately to catch her attention. at times it really seems that she's looking at him, but he really can't be sure. the thought that's constantly on his mind is 'she's cute..real cute..but ah..don't be crazy'

he reluctantly walks away with his friends, unwilling to take his eyes away from her. he feels it. 'damn..shit shit shit..don't even think about it..damn.' he's not going to have yet another crush on yet another girl again. this is crazy. can't someone put a rein on his whatever-you-call-it. he can almost predict the results, the outcome of this ridiculous feeling. here's his life - he likes girl, girl doesn't return the affection, girl rejects, he feels sad, he sees another .. ah the cycle goes on. what does this look like to you? its something he himself can't even comprehend. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. he's a gonner. silently he sings the lyrics of 'heaven'. oh and guess what, he hasn't even spoken more than ah..3 sentences to her.

-

his heart is beating at an amazing rate. she's sitting beside him. they're sitting on a damp bench, both their brains must have been slacking to have allowed them to ignore the dampness. he smiles again; realises that he has been smiling a lot, even breaking out into big grins, sometimes cheesy ones. doesn't matter, he's happy, happy like um..anything. she likes him too, he knows that by then, she having already confirmed his suspicions over the phone. an idea struck him. risky, no doubt, but feasible. he smiles yet again. 'eh..see your hand?' yeps, its this corny. doesn't matter though, she fell for it. he raises his right hand slightly, palm facing the sky. she looks at him; places her left hand onto his right hand, exclaims something about his hand being big. he's not listening. he shifts his hand slightly and gently bends his fingers inwards, in doing so holding her hand. silence. time passes. he holds on to her hand. another thought. he looks down at their hands, fingers interlocked. he brings up her hand and kisses it. shock on her face. he looks at her. time passes. 'are we attached?' 'nopes, not yet.' 'okay..' he pops the question..the question he thinks he knows the answer to, he can't be wrong can he? she nods her head, says something like 'yes' or 'okay'. doesn't matter. he isn't listening. he's overjoyed. he grins, like a little boy who finally got the toy plane he longed for.
-
he sits at an uneasy 2 feet away from her, sideways. her bag is in between them. hm. he pauses, listening to the sound of the waves crashing onto the breakwater. its high-tide, he notices. its cloudy, he notices. the darn bag is in the way, he notices. he takes a deep breath, picks her bag up, places it onto her other side, and shifted himself next to her, reducing the 2 feet to 2cm. much better. a chain of events led to him hugging her from the back while leaning against a wooden pillar.
thoughts flooded his mind at this instant. he realises once again that this is not all there is to a relationship. no doubt, they were both adolescents, but thats hardly an excuse for irresponsible behaviour. a relationship, at any age, involves a commitment. think about it, even a young kid who owns a pet goldfish has a commitment to the little creature - he has to feed it, change the water in the tank, scrub the tank, et cetera. what happens most of the time? the young kid gets sick of his new toy, not realising that the little fishy is a living creature. what happens next? the fish dies of course. the kid may feel the pain, or he may not..
corny analogy. but thats what most adolescent relationships are about. each regarding his or her partner as a new fish, alacriously carrying out the required responsibilities. they live in blissful happiness till the day the infatuation wears out and they tire of each other. its sad but true. don't you think so?
this relationship will never end up this way, not if he can help it. he makes a silent commitment to the relationship, silent but strong. promises..promises he will fulfil.
-
the relationship grows well. there are times when he feels like a little kid's fish but well, things are still going fine. insecurity comes into every relationship, but shouldnt it be present in the girl most of the time? he shrugs mentally, continuing his observation of the ceiling in his room. hm maybe observation is the wrong word to use here; the room is dark and the ceiling is almost flawless..whats there to observe?
he has fallen completely in love with her and he knows it, at least in his current mentality it is love. it may not be really how true love is, but give him a break will ya? he's sixteen, how much does he know? he's happy, more or less, on the whole. he wants to grow with her, to mature together with her, to enter this savage garden together, the real world. 'growing old with you' .. how appropriate.
-

8 Days Ago:

I'm Shaun, the nice guy, the weak guy, the one trampled upon, the one who's clingy, needy and, adaptable(to use a euphemism) to the whims and desires of the girls I date. I'm still Shaun, but I've turned apostate, exchanged idealism for cynicism, embraced hedonism instead of faithfulness, and in the process, lost myself.

There's Black, there's White, and there's a whole spectrum of colors in between. I love being an oddity, a contrast. I've pulled off several roles, and now it seems I'm trying for the role of an Honest Asshole, or as honest as honest can be without appearing to be a total jerk.

What do you do when you find you aren't attracted to your partner? What happens when you know how awesome the person is but are simply not attracted? What happens when you realize this when you're 9,000km away but harbor hopes that the flame will re-ignite upon reunion? What happens when reunion, instead of sparking a bonfire, darkens the heart?

A better man will press on. A man better than myself.

One day God will slap me, and wake me up. Till that day, I will attempt to successfully indulge in hedonistic pleasures.

Today:

Tear your clothes and weep, kid, for instead of growing, you've descended into debauchery and exchanged wisdom for folly. The devil offers the world on a silver platter, and for mere potential you sold your soul. Just a little bit more, he cajoles, Heaven is forever, life is short. Jesus forgives all sins and washes them with his blood, turning your rotten soul white as snow. Even a little sin is unbearable in his sight, so what difference does it make how filthy your soul is upon repentance?

Quite a compelling argument. The danger lies though, in falling so far from the glory of God that he hardens your heart, and you never ever find it in your soul to confess and repent. So far down the road to ruin that inertia alone prevents salvation. In time you lose sight of God, and forget his voice. He still calls, but you no longer listen. If the world is your oyster, then hell is death by hepatitis.

This meeting is adjourned.

London

"Sitting cross-legged on slightly damp grass in the middle of a park with the Buckingham Palace on my left and endless streams of french speaking tourists strolling pass me on the pavement by the lake, I'm in London, the sun's in a cheery mood and there's a plesant breeze.

A distant clock chimed twelve; six more hours before I have to make my way back to the Underground and catch a train back to Heathrow airport for my flight back home. It's beautiful here, and many a time I don't want to leave. I want to work, study, bum around, do anything here. In fact, I love every city I've been to in my travels this exchange. Chicago, New York, Seattle, Vancouver, Montreal, Quebec, Toronto, heck, even Waterloo, I love them all. I love the weather, I soak in the smiles, the friendly faces, the new friends, the partying, the crazy flip cup game.

But I'm going home; to family and friends, people who love me and in whose hearts I've significance, it's where I belong. I am truely glad that I'll soon see familiar faces. The most beautiful sights in the world mean nothing if you've nobody to share them with.

So I'll enjoy my day in London, my first city in Europe, and pray that the next time I'm here it will be with people I love."

And so it begins again.

Today my conscience speaks, in a gentle whisper echoing from a dusty grave.

Mercy would have it be enough, but Karma wields a heavy hammer, and the barrage I will face will by no means be small, and by no means would I not deserve it.

If she's a spacecraft I'm unqualified to pilot, and this flak I get is for getting off, what will be in store for me should I continue piloting and crash into the Atlantic.

Chicago -> New York

I write this entry sitting on board an United Airlines domestic flight to New York, LGA, while my $20 imitation North Face duffel bag sits somewhere in the Chicago O'Hare airport waiting to board the next available flight to New York. How did this happen, and why would American air transport rules allow a passenger and his luggage to travel on different planes?

For the second question I can only shrug, and mention that might it not be possible for a time-bomb to go undetected in a check-in bag and detonated on a different flight as the terrorist? Heck, suicide bombing will be passe if this catches on.

As to why it happened in the first place? It all started with me asking for directions to the airport from the asian lady behind the hostel's reception desk. All I managed to understand from her chupsomebonk accent was that I should go west of Congress to La Salle station and take the blue line. Blue line, I thought, I know for sure how to get to Jackson station and it's also on the blue line, so I made my way there, only to find that Jackson's closed for the weekend for upgrading. Closed, on a weekend?! Why don't they work in the middle of the night like considerate Chinese and Singaporean construction firms; it's dark in the tunnels anyway.

What followed next was 30 mins of me walking haphazardly asking for directions to La Salle station and realising that there are 3 Lasalle stations; one serving the purple/brown/orange lines, one some sort of rail station, and the last serving the blue line. With a tip of the hat to ol Murphey, I paid a visit to the other 2 stations before finally arriving at the correct station, and hauling both me, and my duffel bag on board the train to O'Hare.

I settled down with Shadow of the Hegemon and was minding my own business reading when the train operator announced that the track between some station and some station is closed, and that we should alight at the next station to transfer to a shuttle that would take us two stations down towards O'Hare. Fantastic, more upgrading. So, off the train, to the shuttle, to another station, and back on the train towards the airport; 30 mins worth of traveling time.

Finally, we're at the airport(I used "we" purely to avoid soundly like some lonesome soul) and I brisked walked to Terminal one, half appreciating the soothing vocals of a black busker while wondering why he was even allowed to busk in the airport. Maybe it's because of the crumpled handwritten "God Bless You" sign he has with him. Terminal 1, United airlines check in desk with probably 50 people ahead of me in line. Awesome. Joined the queue, made my way to the front, found out it was too late to check in, put my luggage and myself on waiting list for the next flight, and left with a confirmation ticket.

Confirmation ticket in hand, I went through security where like in Heathrow, I had to remove shoes and belt, and found myself at gate B9 where my flight was boarding. Presented the confrimation ticket to the staff and got in exchange a boarding pass for that flight. What of my luggage, I asked, and was told that it would be on the next flight out.

Still with me? I'm bored on the plane after finishing my book. I need to get the next one, and probably end up returning to Singapore with 10 books. Getting sleepy, think I'll watch some bleach while the flight attendant walks down the aisle repeating "Seatbelts" at the rate of once every 4 seconds.

Youniverse

Gwen did it, so I thought maybe I should too.

http://youniverse.com/

Apparently my love type is "crazy in love" as compared to her "wistful soul"

I would copy and paste the results, but it's in a flash file.

Tomorrow I leave for Chicago.

8th May will be when I return to Singapore.

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Now playing: Iain Sutherland/New World Philharmonic/Tasmin Little - Schindler's List
via FoxyTunes

Niagara Glen

I miss you people

Especially my dad. Doesn't he look sweet and harmless. Ah, I thought I was a rock in canadian winter, but a little bit of web camming with Gwen, and a few of my dad's photos, and I miss home like crazy.

snapshots

Alive in Canada

I'm still alive. Facebook is killing the blogging star. Why blog when Facebook is so much more convenient, at least where posting photos is concerned. The last I checked, I've over 700 photos on Facebook, gosh. I don't write much on Facebook though, so here's an attempt at regaining some writing ability while listening to mandarin songs.

Speaking of mandarin, the term used for mainland Chinese here is FOB, as in, Fresh Off the Boat. Interesting, eh? Not a very nice thing to say, but yeah, interesting.

I've one more week in Waterloo before my last day of exams and getting kicked out of residence the next day. Unlike NUS which at least is merciful about moving in/out dates, the students here are only allowed to move in one or two days before term starts, and have to leave 24 hours within the end of their last paper. Quite ridiculous if you ask me.

Where will I be going after that? Chicago, for two nights, and after that I've no idea. Maybe New York City. Then it's back to Toronto before coming back to Sunny Singapore. I'm positive that I'll melt as soon as I step out of Changi Airport. Double digit temperatures are rare here, and when that happens, everybody goes out in tee shirts; girls in skirts(:D).

Just as how I miss my friends in Singapore while I'm here, I'm sure as hell going to miss all the cool people I've been hanging out with here. As how Japheth put it recently, it's cool to sit down at a table and ask "so where's everybody from?". Ask that in Singapore and you'll get quizzical looks and "er, Hougang?".

I'm glad I'm coming home though. I miss all you guys back home! I'm coming homeeeeeeeee.



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Now playing: 陶喆 - 愛我還是他
via FoxyTunes

Facebook

Facebook has this Compare application that's good for a few laughs. Check out my rankings:

1st in "Who has better taste in music"
1st in "Who more likely to succeed"
2nd in "Who is more attractive"
3rd in "Who is more talkative"
3rd in "Who more likely to skip class"
3rd in "Who has a better body"
5th in "Who is a better listener"
5th in "Who is smarter"

That's okay right. Apparently people don't think I study very much, and nobody trusts me. And of course, how can someone who stutters be a good public speaker.

175th in "Who is a better public speaker"
181st in "Who is more trustworthy"
194th in "Who studies harder"

And the bomb:

Would you date Shaun?"

YES	4 votes
NO	17 votes
Total	21 votes

Toronto

Healthy emo-ing

I can't remember whether I've posted this before, but it looks like a relatively nice piece so here it is.

I can't understand why some people do the things they do.
I can't understand greed. I can't understand lust. I can't understand resentfulness,
though of course, of all the above I've experienced.

I weep for loss, shed tears for broken hearts, pity the weak, love the lonely.
I love, but I am locked.
Locked deep within the deepest, darkest corners of my soul.
Useless, those emotions.

People expound on those, to impress, to cheat, as weapons to fulfill their hidden desires.
Nobody loves, for the sake of loving. Nobody cares, for the sake of caring.
I love you. Love me back.
I give to the poor. LOOK AT ME!
I care for my children. They better return the favor.

I mourn, for the loss, of innocence.

and one more:

An unbidden tear flows from my right eye, as I trudge slowly home.
How fitting, I thought, that I should tear from only one eye.

The hot tear on my right cheek
It's almost like a part of me is weeping
For what I've become.

Frail

Convinced of my deception
I've always been a fool
I fear this love reaction
Just like you said I would

A rose could never lie
About the love it brings
And I could never promise
To be any of those things


Chorus:


If I was not so weak
If I was not so cold
If I was not so scared of being broken
Growing old
I would be...
I would be...
I would be...


Blessed are the shallow
Depth they'll never find
Seems to be some comfort
In rooms I try to hide


Exposed beyond the shadows
You take the cup from me
Your dirt removes my blindness
Your pain becomes my peace


[Chorus]


...frail

The fool has said in his heart, "There is no God."

Why do you boast in evil, O mighty man?

Wit's a poor substitute for righteousness, and the knowledge of God is not the fear of God.

When you first err, God nudges you gently back to the straight and narrow. He lets you pass, should you shrug him off, only to remind you time after time like a flashing U-turn symbol in a racing game. Next comes the sharp slap on the face, and things basically go downhill from there.

How long you partake in the sweetness of Sin depends on your sensitivity towards the voice of God and your judgment of how severe His warnings are becoming. As long as the pleasures triumph over guilt, we happily set God aside to enjoy the banquet of the world.

What's the difference between a Christian and Unbeliever? The nagging feeling that you've erred, are erring, and should scurry back to the straight and narrow or face the wrath of God and the disappointment of a Father.

I find myself probably at the stage where God is slapping me on the face. Maybe it's time to do a little scurrying before He decides an earthquake is in order.

I'm not particularly thrilled at that prospect, but who am I to complain.

Close to Gwen

Why do birds

Suddenly appear?

Everytime you are near

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Why do stars

Fall down from the sky?

Everytime you walk by

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



(*) on the day that Gwen born

The angels got together and decided

To create a dream come true

So they sprinkled moondust in your hair

Of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue



(**) that is why all the boys in town

Follow you all around

Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Repeat (*)

Repeat (**)



Just like me

They long to be

Close to Gwen



Woo... close to Gwen ...

Brilliance

Q: “So, how serious is the brain drain, sir?”

Mr Lee: “The brain drain is pretty serious, our brain drain, losing them...”

Q: “To China?”

Mr Lee: “No, losing them to America. No, we’re not losing to China.”

Q: “Not China?”

Mr Lee: “China, they’ll come back. You want to be Chinese or do you want to be Singaporean. You go to China, you’re going to compete against 1,300 million very bright fellows, hardworking, starving. Do you stand a chance to be on top of that pole? No, but if you go there as Singaporean with a different base, speaking English which they can’t, with connections to the world, then you’ve got a different platform.

What happens is they go to America, Americans then collect them, the bright ones. You stay for two, three years in their companies, acclimatize them to the company culture and take them to China, if they speak Chinese. So, they’re part of the American team. Now, if they are working in China, I think they’ll come back because they don’t want their children to compete against Chinese.

But if they decide to take the Green Card and settle in America, then I think we’ve lost them and they are going to America and those who don’t want the hard competition here go to Australia and Canada.”

Q: “You have percentages on that, sir?”

Mr Lee: “We’re losing about… According to the people who give up their citizenship and take out their savings, their pension funds, we’re losing about, at the top end, 1,000 a year, which is about, if you take the top 30 per cent of the population, thereabout four or five per cent. It will grow because I think the numbers are growing.

Every year, there are more people going abroad for their either first degree or second degree or whatever. But we’re making up by getting many bright Chinese and Indians coming here because of better prospects, learn English, you can learn Chinese at the same time and so on and the Indians are near home, First-World standards as against Indian infrastructure.

The trouble is many of the Chinese then use us as a stepping stone to go to America where the grass is greener. But even if we only keep 30 to 40 per cent and we lose 60 to 70 per cent, we’re a net gainer. But the day will come, maybe 20 years, maybe 30 years, when Chinese say, look, my life is better than yours or as good.

.
.
.

Q: “In fact, we don’t have great statesman anymore anywhere in democracies. Do you have a view as to why that is no longer possible to have someone like you or Charles De Gaulle or Margaret Thatcher?”

Mr Lee: “No, no, no, you will now have, I don’t know for how long this phase will last, an electorate that’s influenced by the mass media and a mass media run by a group of media barons with their appointed surrogates getting tired of leaders after a short while and wanting change, always believing that the next one
will be better. So, Tony Blair, use-by-date over, out. They’ve got Gordon Brown. Is he better? I don’t know. He doesn’t measure up, out. David Cameron, is he better? After awhile, out.”

Q: “So, the power of the media has made it impossible to be a great statesman or great stateswoman?”

Mr Lee: “I’m not sure. I think it depends upon the crisis. When a real crisis sets in, people begin to feel it in their bones and their opinion-formulators also begin to feel that this is life-and-death, it’s no longer pontificating and better be cautious about this. Let’s stick by somebody who knows what this is all about and will stay the course.”

-

I guess this explains "MediaCorp is 100% owned by Temasek Holdings, the Singapore government's wholly owned investment arm."

-

Full interview here

Relativity

As kids we were told, that the stars we see at night, might already be long dead. They're simply so far away that the light they gave out a long time ago is still traveling towards us.

In similar fashion, a wad of spit on the 18th of January took almost a month to reach its target. Stop spitting on me, it cries, leave me alone. You've had peace, no? I've not said anything to you since. The slow speed of your comprehension ability is none of my business, there is nothing I can do, so quit whining.

Oh. Is this going to torment you for another month?

Oops

Oops. Seems like I was wrong about my Creation of Man poster. It was Man who had his hand extended loftily, and God who was straining to reach him. Ah what the hell.

http://www.globalgallery.com/enlarge/018-21551/

Posters and More

The third installation in Orson Scott Card's Ender Saga, Xenocide.


It's imported! Flew in all the way from Singapore in a huge brown parcel complete with chinese new year goodies, and ..

Haha, yes, I never thought I would one day be a proud owner of a Singapore postcard, merlion and all. Nope, darling, the postcard didn't make me homesick, the bak kwa did. =(


I got myself a new poster today. Don't be shocked, but here it is:

My other posters get the cork wall


Yes Jeryd, I'll give you the starry night poster k. It's as good as new. No point buying another one. I've no space to put it up in Singapore anyway.

Groundhog Day

February 2 is Groundhog Day. A groundhog is coaxed/grabbed from his hole, and is left to look for his own shadow. If he sees one, he scurries back to his hole and that signifies 6 more weeks of winter. If he doesn't, it means an early spring is coming.

A quick search on google showed some groundhogs seeing their own shadows, and some who don't. Where does that leave us? Stock up on the booze, people. Early spring - time to partayyyyy. More winter? Keep your blood warm by .. partayyyiiing.