A challenge met.

A day saved.

A soul fulfilled.

A heart soothed.

Blissfully enveloped in the contentment of the moment, savouring the transient tranquillity. Heart of hearts hoping for more lasting equilibrium. Musings abound: When will the destination be reached?

Why? Do I persist in being me?

Why? Do I let myself harm myself?

Why? Do I hurt one who is devoted like no one else?

Why? Do I let my humanity cloud my reality?

Vile, worthless, pile of slime.

Do you think your negligible existence worth the air you breathe in?

Grow a backbone, grow a pair, grow up.

Do you fancy stewing in contemptuous spittle?

Do you seek painful pleasure from scorn, disdain, abhorrence?

See the light – there is only darkness!

And it will be a faithful and enduring companion.

It will follow through this instance you call a life, and beyond.

So rejoice!

Is love possible without passion?

I do not know.


Coffee without smell.

Curry without spice.

Soup without warmth.

Form without function, letter without spirit.

Empty, hollow, flat, dead, signifying nothing.

I am an unwanted weed, dry, colourless, withered, a mockery of the flower aspired to.

The day I acquire a taste for frigidity – if ever there be such a day – has not come yet.


Is love possible without passion?

I don’t think so.

Tell me, tell me, what you’re thinking about.

Share with me the secrets of your heart.

Let me delve into, dive into your soul’s deepest recesses.

I want to explore you, be you, know you, love you.

Fiery phoenix, rise, and let me behold you.

Set my heart on fire, you do.

Keep me aflutter, you do.

My life, at your whim’s command.

Your love, my existence requires.

Do you see? Through fate inexplicable, bound to you, I am.

Fire. Burn, burn in me, till I am ashes.

And then, continue burning.

Desperate: without your glance would I be.

Leave me: is to kill me.

I think of you; the fire burns metal.

Guttural, primal: My scream,

Endless, incomprehensible: My despair.

Horrified, petrified: My feelings.

Ever so gently, the wind blows. Strongly enough to titillate – make its fleeting presence known – too weakly to lift the sail, or push. Its only effect, to create false hopes – to frustrate. My arms lie limp, leaden from rowing, though I can’t tell the starting point, from the ending point. Maybe, it’s the same, and I haven’t moved one bit. Looking beside, I find it empty, and find myself filled – filled to the brim, with emptiness.

I feel myself seeping away. Drip by drip. Soon, there will be nothing left. No past, no future, no present. No self. I am a discarded can. I am dry, empty. Starting to rust. My self has been subsumed so long, I’ve forgotten where I placed it. I am this lifeless body, corpse, carcass that’s misplaced its soul, and the rot is starting. I am this junk vessel, top hollow, bottom swirling with bile and sludge. I am going, soon be gone.

Strain harder. Run faster. Move quicker. Rise higher.

You have to.

No one will wait.

You have to.

I remember when I stood, and with my head raised, I had to squint to shield my eyes from the falling raindrops. Hit my face, my clothes, my body, drenching. Looked out over the water, the expanse soothing. The wind touches me, and I shiver, but just a little. I’ll get used to it. I got used to it.

Riding with the pack. Roadbikes, and then there’s me. With my fat tires. Them, with their swift road tires. For every ounce of their effort, it takes me thrice just to keep up. As I strain, I reach the recesses of my being, reach into a reserve of primal energy and go on maniacally.

I have to.

I.

Dear Friend,

Thank you for being there. By there, I mean here, by me. Thank you for being how you are. You’ll have your own family soon, and I am happy for that, and wish you, and your family, only the best. My powers are limited, at best. But whatever I have, whatever I am, is at your disposal, should you need it. Our closeness - not measured by proximity, nor time.

But by bond, and brotherhood.

Me

The feelings ripple within. Waves bouncing off my insides. Churning, churning.

The gulp in my throat.

The path. Me walking along it. Strolling at times, trudging at time, crawling at times.

I look at my shadow, and smile wearily. I had hope, and now, I have my shadow.

I would caress you if I could. Rip you away from my feet, and embrace you. Having you, is bittersweet. You’re the devil I know. At least.

To whom do I belong?

To the one who makes me smile.

To the one who makes me laugh.

To the one who makes me dream.

To the one who makes me better.

To the one who makes me whole.

To the one who makes me love.

To the one I do the same for.

To the one.

I’m yours.

Moving… Moving… Grooving… Grooving… Smoothing…

Moving forward… Want to… Go faster… Not fast enough… Want to… Need to… Go faster… Being left being… Can’t… Can’t get left behind... Don’t know… If time is being wasted… Need to… Do more… Need to… Go Faster… Want to do… So much more… Arrggghhhh…

Let the fire stay… Burn inside… Till the end… Want to burn… Throw myself in the fire… Let me be burnt… Or let me burn… Always managed to stretch myself… Will stretch myself…

Burn with me… Let us burn together… Till the day we burn to ashes…

Burn…

Forgive my quirks, my shortcomings, my weaknesses, my foibles, my idiosyncrasies, my peculiarities.

Forgive my intensity of feeling, which sometimes brings us both intense discomfort.

Forgive my illogic, I think of you with my heart, not my brain. And when emotions rush through me, I find it hard to act as sensibly as I usually do.

Forgive my absent-mindedness, which despite me, is still a part of me. Though when it comes to you, I try to take special care, as I never have for anything else.

Forgive me, and I foresee a lot of forgiving needing to be done in the course of us, for I also foresee our course as being long, and if there is an end, I do not see it.

Was… So close to… Losing you…
We were… So close to… Losing each other…

Something, others could never claim to have.
In such a short amount of time, so quickly, so sudden, tested.
Without warning, without preparation, without caution.
We were tested.
And, without hesitation, without thinking, without consideration for our own self.
Rather than our own self, we chose each other.

Didn’t wish for it to happen.
But glad that, it opened my eyes, made me see, what I have, what we have.

Dare to say: I will never ever be able to find else someone like you. Not close. Not ever. Never want to. I’ve already found you. And you've already found me.

How many more days do we have?
We don’t know.
What we do know, is that we’ll cherish them together...

Dear Yules,

I guess this is it. You are free now. Free from The Neighbour (!!!). To my good-friend-who-happens-to-be-a-girl, I wish you the best. You will continue to have my constant friendship (minus the constant irritation). Whatever you do, think of me and remember the year-plus that we spent talking, gossiping, complaining, griping, bitching, commiserating, consoling and whining together, and just being a friend to each other.

Your Perpetual Neighbour,
Daniel

You. Don’t look at me like that, your gaze is the brightest sun melting the softest butter. Don’t hold me like that, my defences go down and my legs are jelly. Don’t smile at me like that, I swoon and can’t think straight.

No. Actually. Never stop looking at me. Never stop holding me. Never stop smiling at me. Never stop loving me…

Standing with you
We knew we’d be forever
Oh and when you held my hand
I knew it was now or never
These are the best days of my life

Don't wanna miss a thing, with you.

You see through me, into me, and see me for what I am.

And I’m glad that after doing so, you chose me, as I have chosen you.

Pigeonholed Hard

Apologies, not a lemming.

We get it on most every night
when that moon is big and bright
its a supernatural delight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

we get
everybody here is out of sight
they dont bark and they dont bite
they keep things loose they keep it tight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

we like our fun and we never fight
you cant dance and stay uptight
its a supernatural delight
everybody was dancing in the moonlight

dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

we get in on most every night
and when that moon is big and bright
its a supernatural delight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

dancing in the moonlight
everybodys feeling warm and bright
its such a fine and natural sight
everybodys dancing in the moonlight

I could never hug you tight enough. Could never hold you close enough. Could never kiss you deep enough. Could never see you long enough. For it to be enough.

You’re the first to have helped me get pass my reticence, reluctance, reservations, and reach out. It was on that breakwater on the beach, being one with you, when I realised. What was fear and doubt and pride and ego? When I could have Happiness? What was everything else? When I could have You?

In which ever way the wind is blowing, I will kindle our love till the world stops turning. I’ll keep this fire burning. Even when there is no light above, when it comes to you and me, I’ll keep it burning.

I’ll be your friend, your lover, your light.

Sun rays pour in through the glass.
Sunshine and me, bathed in warmth.
Outside, and in - warmth.
The light has a, different hue, in the liminality of late afternoon and evening.
The fragrance of coffee seasons the air, but besides that, the air seems fresher, full of life.
Could it be because I’m sitting beside her?
A curtain of hair, brown-tinged black, shy her face away as she looks down to read.
Her lips glimmer in the sunlight, the rest of her glows.
Looking at her, thinking of her, subtly smiling for her.

She asks me to change seats, and I ask why. She says she wants me to sit beside her, closer.
At that moment, I was a pile of clay… Her pile of clay…

I take her hand, and I kiss it. And wish her scent never leaves my lips.

Twist throttle. Sneer. Fists clenched. Eyes squint. Brake in contempt. Catch me? Go ahead. Haha! Sob… Yeah! Arrgghhhh! Save me from myself. Hey you, watch me! Strange: this world. This world: strange. Stranger on the planet: I am.

Disjointed? Totally!

Sometimes, I don’t know how you feel.
Sometimes, I don’t know exactly how I feel.
So, will you light up the way into your heart?
And, in doing so, light up my heart for all times.

"I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am”

My first, and my last.

Signifier: Sweet and Chewy Fruitella Strawberry

Signified: Chewy Sweetness! Burst of Sunshine in the mouth! Sweet memories!

Rushing. Firefighting. Things going wrong. Multiple critical issues all requiring immediate and undivided attention. Feel like puking. I’m in heaven – if I were a sadomasochist…

Taking a short breather to post.

Single, solitary ray of light. Sunshine. One is enough. How could Sunshine be lovely, cuddly, huggable, make you do silly things, make you lose sleep, and most importantly, make you smile, altogether? Gathering courage to say properly what has been, but not really said.

You’re the sun that shines on me. And also the moon that pulls the ebb and flow of my tide.

You’re a butterfly, and every flap of your wing effects a hurricane within me.

Beside you. Facing away, but I’m watching you, and thinking of you. Every time you rub your neck and arms, and I see your skin irritated red, I worry. Every time I see you coughing, I wish it was me instead.

You touch my face to wake me up, and I reach out to hold your hand. Only for a moment, but it was enough to know it felt right. That your hand belonged in mine, and mine, in yours. And when I had to let go, it was with great reluctance.

Worried.

Of speeding. Of going too fast. And then being clamped down for that. Hard to gauge when there’s no obvious speed limit sign. Or a warning letter before my advance is arrested. Even if there is, the sign’s vague and I can’t make out the details. So I don’t know, if I’m going too fast, too slow, or going just right.

Analogies: convenient little things.

Unlikely friends.

Started out on the wrong foot. Rubbing the wrong way sometimes. Took a while to size each other up. I’m not unaware that I’m a difficult personality. I try to make up for it in other ways, if I can, if I’m not obliviously wandering in my own world. For the long haul. Looking to the future together. Destinies intertwined? Maybe not so dramatic. But there’s alignment.

Let’s try to see if we can’t make a tasty rojak together.

Missing.

Like feeling that you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what it was. Just that this time, the feeling lingers, and you know what it is you’re missing. Sunday morning, sitting at a café feeling lost, and the music isn’t helping.

Want to find it back soon.

Looking forward to the end of the day.
So my day can break, and I can be whole again.
So I can see the sun, be awakened, and be alive again.
So bright and sunny, I crave its rays, its warmth bathing my cheeks.
Thinking of the sun - want to be in its glow.

If the face turns red, it’s not flushed – it’s a blush. Weariness of the day, overcome by light-headed, fuzzy warmth. Directing dreams in the sleep, and carrying onto the next day. If this was a remote island, I would have no use for a boat.

Oh, where art thou? Haven’t heard, or seen anything for this day. There’s this creeping, sinking feeling coming over. Like being held aloft previously, and when without, gravity starts to pull down. No wonder it’s a rainy day again – the sun’s missing.

Worried. Of not being up to it.
Why. Do you look so sad.
Don’t know. Who I am.
Trying to. Find out who you are.
Wish I could. Help more.
Going. With the flow.
Let me. Know more.

Caught myself smiling. Then I realised, my mind was somewhere else. Not far, far, away. But still, thinking. Hard to focus when half your brain’s been taken up. The RAM has already been allocated, willingly. Going more on the fuzziest of fuzzy logics now than on being logical…

Don’t know. If it’ll end up, like how I always do. Need. To. Get along with the rest of the human species. Still figuring out how. Please, be patient with me. Not, used to other humans. Not, even comfortable with meself. Don’t know, if words are all I’m capable of. Hope – not. Let down – I might turn out to be. Hope: that I’ll live up. Why: Is it always a struggle? Hope: That I’m more good than harm.

Just because it was mute before, doesn’t mean that when it speaks it’s barking.

Switching the MP3 off – but another beat is starting to play.

Looking at the screen – thinking somewhere else.

Laughing my heart out – outside laughing, inside smiling.

Food turning cold – sorry Food, you know I’ll always love you.

Hours passing – how did light turn to night so fast?

Time to go – watching till out of sight.

A little more than two years since this began.

At least, I can say, I’ve made the first, few, baby steps towards the direction I want to go before the eventuality of death. What have I done since? Accomplished how much? The reticence to answer doesn’t signify well.

In some areas I have shuffled forward. In some others I have stumbled backwards. At least I haven’t stagnated. At least I’m not in the same place I was before, looking around and realising that everything – including my youth – has moved on without me.

At least I still have my two best friends. I’m not exactly sure, how things are supposed to go, when you’re best friends growing old. We’re not technically old, but I do feel that way, and I’m thankful for that grounded, mature feeling. Like a mature glass of wine, instead of a can of fizzy drink. I’m not sure how things will be when you’re both married, with children, and with the corresponding competing concerns. I’ve chosen my best friends, and this number is unlikely to increase through the course of my life. And even though our directions might diverge, I hope we’ll continue sharing our joys and sadness, and continue mutually being able to be the few people in the world we can be totally true with.

At least I’ve felt a few incipient, doubtful yet hopeful stirrings that might just prove that I’m not totally hopeless. And I hope that whatever I’ll do, on balance, it’ll be for the better. To generate more smiles; to mean something.

A day-making smile.

Went against my better nature. Ventured. Surprised that it sounded so expected. As if just waiting. Glad that it did. Looking forward to it.

New hobby: collecting smiles.

Her hair is Harlowe gold
Her lips sweet surprise
Her hands are never cold
She's got Bette Davis eyes
She'll turn her music on you
You won't have to think twice
She's pure as New York snow
She got Bette Davis eyes

And she'll tease you
She'll unease you
All the better just to please you
She's precocious and she knows just
What it takes to make a pro blush
She got Greta Garbo stand off sighs
She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll let you take her home
It whets her appetite
She'll lay you on her throne
She got Bette Davis eyes
She'll take a tumble on you
Roll you like you were dice
Until you come out blue
She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll expose you, when she snows you
Off your feet with the crumbs she throws you
She's ferocious and she knows just
What it takes to make a pro blush
All the boys think she's a spy
She's got Bette Davis eyes

And she'll tease you
She'll unease you
All the better just to please ya
She's precocious, and she knows just
What it takes to make a pro blush
All the boys think she's a spy
She's got Bette Davis eyes

She'll tease you
She'll unease you
Just to please ya
She's got Bette Davis eyes
She'll expose you, when she snows you
She knows ya
She's got Bette Davis eyes

Should’ve trusted myself. Will trust myself from now on. Heed my own. Never go wrong. Don’t be swayed. Don’t falter. Be true. To yourself. You must. For there is only you. Fish-stick among piranhas.

-

They’re gonna get me one day. I know it. Roadkill. Here lies roadkill. He was. And then he wasn’t. Fly on the windscreen. To escape your fate – drive a tank. Either make roadkill, or be roadkill. Either or. No neither nor. It’s a beautiful world – if you don’t believe it. Thank you, have a nice day, and come back again!

Kicking myself. Should have said something. Should have done something. Something to stand up for. Should have stood up. I’m so dumb. I’m so dumb. Even asked further, goondu that I am. What the heck?! Stupid enough to open my mouth, yet not brave enough to say something. Inertial. Inertial. So easy to just let it go. And I did. Argh. Let down.

True, but inconvenient, hidden with displays of hostility, inexpressible.

You feel very affected when someone’s nice to you. It doesn’t really matter why someone’s acting this way. Or even if someone is just being distantly polite. You’re uncontrollably affected and your insides feel like they’re churning. And it takes a bit of effort to seem unmoved. The most you can do is stare ahead and not say a word. You think you shouldn’t feel, but you do.

I am so happy.

For you, my friend. I am happy.

Happy because you’ve found your One. Because you’ve done what you’d wanted to. Because you’ve found happiness, and committed to it. Because what you’ve found is good for you. And you, good for what you’ve found. Nobody has it easy, and I’m sure it won’t all be all easy for you as well. That is ineluctable. But I am happy because I know you. I know you’ll get through the not-so-easy times just as well as you get through the easier times. Because I know that if there is anyone who can make something important like this work, it is you.

Happy because of the fact itself. Happy that I can be happy for you. That in spite of myself, I can be happy for someone else. That I can feel joy vicariously through you. That I can look at your happiness, and feel the happiness within me, irrepressible. That I can grin stupidly as I share your joy, and not care about looking like a fool. That I can realise for a moment, in spite of all self-consciousness, that what really matters are those close to you. Not those in close proximity, and yet strangers. But those who can’t fail to look upon you with all partiality. Those who’ll be on your side even if you’re wrong, because to them, your side is the right side to be.

Happy for you.

I love.

The Open Road.

Cruising along. Not really without a care in the world. But cognisant of them, yet detached, distant, for the moment.

The music plays. It serenades me on my journey. An appreciated companion. Like my buddy sitting beside.

I don’t think I always know how to behave as a good friend. But I always try to remind myself. I don’t always remember. But I try to.

Someone once assured me that I’d never be alone. That I’d always have a constant companion. I don’t know. Possibly, that constant companion, those constant companions are my alternate egos. The different persons I am.

Suicidal. At times. Maybe a whimsical thought. Could it be that I look forward to the rest of my life. Yet wouldn’t mind an ending, at the same time. No one to live for. Selfish, maybe.

I want to die from an overdose. See what the mind can show. Go to the edge, the furthest edge. And if the price is not coming back from the edge, then maybe it isn’t too much a price to pay.

Disconnected; Dislocated.

Don’t!

Don’t let me infinitesimally, inexorable become one of the Detested.

Don’t let me be swayed by opinions, pre-mis-conceptions from people who matter none.

Don’t let me rot from the inside out, leaving only a fig leaf of what-once-was.

Don’t.

Chickens of the world – UNITE!

The world shall be oblivious to genius... NO LONGER!

For TODAY is OUR DAY!

TODAY is DA DAY!

When the little people shall understand (however mind-straining).

YES! The little people WILL understand!

That we’re simply BETTER than they are!

We are SUPERIOR!

SO we shall TRIUUMPPHHH!

Truutttthhhh BEEE told:

We are ALPHA COCKS!

And the sun RISES to hear us CROW!

COCKA-DOOODLE-DOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

HEEAAARRRR MEEEEE CROOOOOOWWW!

Confusion. Feel. Of. Defenestration.

Was riding down this street I’d never been before. Didn’t know the way, but it seemed in the general direction I was heading. And since I don’t plan my route, it just seemed the natural thing to do. Some way down the surroundings started to look really unfamiliar - guess it wasn’t the way after all.

Then when I started to look out for a turn off the street, I started to be unsure of my directions again.

They should make maps for this…

Inch forward gingerly. Once close, beat a smooth retreat. Repeat.

Getting things sorted out. Some, of your own doing. Self-destructive. Yourself – not your biggest fan. Opps! Biggest habit: creating opps. Old, but not grown up. Not good; not entirely bad. Sigh-inducing. But don’t want to stop mattering.

Disjointment – can’t stand it…

Don’t get me wrong
If I’m looking kind of dazzled
I see neon lights
Whenever you walk by

Don’t get me wrong
If you say hello and I take a ride
Upon a sea where the mystic moon
Is playing havoc with the tide
Don’t get me wrong

Don’t get me wrong
If I’m acting so distracted
I’m thinking about the fireworks
That go off when you smile

Don’t get me wrong
If I split like light refracted
I’m only off to wander
Across a moonlit mile

Once in a while
Two people meet
Seemingly for no reason
They just pass on the street
Suddenly thunder, showers everywhere
Who can explain the thunder and rain
But there’s something in the air

Don’t get me wrong
I come and go like fashion
I might be great tomorrow
But hopeless yesterday

Don’t get me wrong
If I fall in the mode of passion
It might be unbelievable
But let’s not say so long
It might just be fantastic
Don’t get me wrong

What a sweet little song!

I am drowning. The water comes in incessant waves. I try to gasp for breath but instead of air, I get a mouthful of seawater. Not even inching forward, keeping my head above water is already draining my strength. I keep popping Panadol, and washing them down with Red Bull. But it makes the nauseousness even worse. It’s not even the number of hours that gets to me, it’s the constant state of being harried; taking fire from many sides. Getting hammered by the waves, and I try to keep my mind by hammering away at the keyboard. I dread the icon that appears onscreen as an email makes its way in. I want to scream at every ring of the phone. The office phone rings, it’s late and I’m not supposed to be in the office, so I ignore it. Then my personal handphone starts to ring! I want to hide at home, stare at the ceiling, and ignore everyone. How did the sound of happy people get so annoying? How did it get to the point that I’m squeezing my legs together because I’m furiously rushing something and had to put off going to the toilet? How does the frown jump onto my forehead on Monday mornings when I wake up, and linger through the week? I feel the life sapping out of me. I feel silent rage when I’m told, with a straight face, that two hundred dollars is going to place a huge strain on the company. And the strain of keeping my thoughts to myself is an added indignation. I feel exploited. Only the hope that temporary tribulation will be the ticket to a better place keeps me going.

Happy, I am not.

Getting harder. To pretend. To act nonchalant. Sometimes you lapse into truthfulness - let your instincts take over. Then you shake your head furiously. Like trying to ward off sleepiness on a long drive you shake your head to stave off the inevitable. It’s easier to leave unsaid. And I guess, logical. What do you expect? And, by the way, this is not how you want to be. This is not what you should be; not what you told yourself to be. Wake up your idea.

Wake up.

Could it be you wanted it because you couldn’t have it? Otherwise how was it that that you could have, you didn’t want? Have you felt like that before? No. Would you ever feel like that again? You don’t know. One must know what one can have, or cannot have. And be content with what is.

Tough, though.

Speeding along. Cruising along. Drifting along. Sometimes faster. Sometimes slower. An analogy for man. The cars have gotten a bit faster and a bit sleeker. But they’re still going around in circles. Round and round and round and round. Shave off a few seconds here and there. Lose a few seconds here and there. The lap plays out like the lap before and will be followed by a similar lap after. Not going anywhere, just knowing that we’re going. How much has actually changed? Hate hasn’t lost its passion, love hasn’t lost its bitter-sweetness, death hasn’t lost its persistence. A cause for exasperation, for relief, and for sparkles of thought emanating from nowhere.

Trying, Tried. Maybe not trying hard enough. Maybe barking up the wrong tree. Like throwing tennis balls against the wall, and having them not bounce back. So you throw and you throw and you throw and you throw. But they’re just not bouncing back. And if you’re prepared to keep throwing and throwing without having them bounce back, then you can keep on keeping on. But I don’t think you can. I don’t think you have the energy. Or the inclination to.

You remember. You remember the time you couldn’t remember when you felt so happy. When it seemed your mouth was fixed into a smile. It was the only time when trying to pause from smiling took more effort than just letting the smile be. When sitting across, you subconsciously leaned towards, and only realised it when you momentarily shifted weight to lean back. And even as you leaned towards, you felt drawn, you felt parts of yourself trying to close the distance, trying to reach out. And even though it’d been several hours, it seemed so short, and you didn’t want to leave.

So you fall back on the reliable. The walking among the crowds. Walking through and relishing the anonymity. Enjoying the smile that said “Do not disturb, I’m not totally right,” and “I’m okay, I’m not going to hurt you,” both at the same time. Relishing those brief, ephemeral moments of contact with people I’ve never met before, and will never meet again. And wondering if that’s really the way I enjoy people.

Afraid. Of going along without sorting out my thoughts. Of reaching a destination I didn’t intend to, then realising that there’s no way back. Tormented by the present, yet immobilised by fear.

Riding up north tomorrow. Love the feeling: stuffing a few clothes into a bag, hopping onto your bike, and riding off into the somewhat unknown. The open road. Traveling towards the horizon. The road trip. A full tank, a bag of clothes, an open heart, and you’re ready to go.

Hmmnnn… Guess I should put a teeny weeny eeny more effort into finding someone who doesn’t mind riding pillion; someone I wouldn’t mind at all sitting behind me. But nonsense! I’m just rambling - see you when I get back!

It’s really something: how a lack of communication leads to misunderstanding.

Misunderstanding is this seed planted inadvertently. It grows and grows, and when not weeded out in time, inevitably blossoms into this unimaginably ugly thing called conflict.

Something that started out so small, flukey even. That if not nipped in the bud, festers in its own dark corner of your mind, bidding its time. Waiting for the point when emotions break down restraint, before making a grand entrance. Storming through and leaving a trail of relationships-that-used-to-be in its path.

They rush by: the cars, trundling down the tunnel. On their way home; on their way out; going on their way.

Making my own way home. Decided to stop by the wayside. Turn the key, place the stand, start watching the passing vehicles.

The Toyota pulls up behind the bike, and the woman emerges. Grey-haired, about fifty. Huffs to the concrete embankment by the side. The driver stays. Can’t see what he’s doing, probably just waiting. She stays there, returns, and then both are out of the car. Her screaming at him. Him staying silent, and I think he knows he’d done something wrong. Me being invisible. To them, I don’t constitute the public. And it kinda seems weird to me, this old couple having a lovers’ spat. You’d think that all the kinks would’ve been ironed out ages before. But I guess that’s just my silly thinking.

Moved a little closer. Should I do something? Is there anything I should be doing? Any conceivable way I could help? Maybe calm them down a little? Hmmnnn… Didn’t think so. And didn't envision myself a nosey parker. So I not notice them, as convincingly as possible.

Doors slam, then tyres screech as they pull back out onto the motorway. A startled driver horns, and disaster is just barely averted. I resist the urge to shake my head - not sure that I’ll never ever be in the same situation.

Just silently wish them well, then wonder if good thoughts, at least by themselves, ever made a difference.

Alone. Walking alone. Working alone. Being alone. Going at my own pace. Not struggling to keep up. Not worrying if I’m going too fast, or too slow. Inching my way through a mass of hundreds, yet still managing not to be one of the crowd. It’s vulnerable: when you consider yourself part of something. And then realise otherwise.

Everything has a beginning. Everything has an original reason. Go back far enough, and you can always find the source. And when you finally find it, it’ll seem trite, inconsequential. And wonder how it came about in the first place. But now is now; then is then. Now you have hindsight, now you’re no longer in that same position you were so many moments ago. But then, at then, it was the most logical chain of events, it was the only thing that could’ve happened.

Ahh… When was it? When you were young, that’s when it was. When that structure was the only thing you’ve ever known, the only thing you ever had the chance to learn to trust, the only thing you knew. And you still felt, then. You still cared. You were still weak. Then it started to wear out. Started to break down. And at first you were affected. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know. And that feeling wasn’t comfortable. It was a new feeling, yes, and it didn’t feel right.

How long did it take? Now, you can’t really remember. But, thankfully, long enough for you to figure out the trick. To find the best way of dealing. To find the best way of making by. And it was by building. By building walls. By going numb. By not caring. You see, when you don’t have a stake, you’ve got nothing to lose. You’re free. You’re protected. You’d found the answer, the solution to all your problems. Your panacea. So when you saw tears, you forced yourself not to tear as well, ‘cause you convinced yourself that it didn’t concern you – you’d mastered the hardest task of all: deceiving yourself. And you did it well, and it did you well, ‘cause you’ve managed to make it thus far, haven’t you?

And when you crash, and fall, and inside you’re burning, you pick yourself up and say: “You think you’d got me? You actually think you’d got me? Ahahahahahaha!” And as you felt your flesh twisted and cringed, you laughed, and laughs were never so manic. And when you walk in a crowd, you walk in contempt. Not because you felt yourself better, but because you thought the worst of yourself, and knew the rest of them to be no better.

And so you embrace it. It works. It’s brought you through most of your life. It’s tried and tested. Proven! Guaranteed! An unshakeable formula! The Answer! Never depend on anyone. Never expect from anyone. Never totally trust anyone. And so never get disappointed. Never be caught out on a limb. Never be let down.

Though sometimes you wonder: Is there another way? But you wouldn’t know. ‘Cause you’ve never tried. And so you plod on, wearing the same worn-out, but comfortable shoes. Afraid of the blisters that’ll hurt when you first try out something new. Yes, so I guess, in your fear, you’ve sought to protect yourself by fear.

And so I plod on.

You were always there. One way or the other.

In the beginning we were young, and childish; ignorant of that fact, and blissful for it. Walked home everyday together. Though we’d already spent the entire day in class and lived just a few blocks from each other, we didn’t want to go home. Six years - a blink of the eye. Back then, we didn’t have a past, and wasn’t aware that there was a future. Few freedoms, and fewer indulgences. But we had the greatest one of all – we had the shared laugh. The only thing that can, for a moment, make one truly equal with another. The only thing that can, for that moment, make those sharing it, the most precious thing in all the earth. And make everything else seem trite and petty. Though I don’t know where you are, or how you are, and if I met you today on the street I might not be meeting the same person who was my friend, but I still think of you, and the thoughts are an unquenchable reserve of smiles.

Inevitably we got a little older. Not fully adults. But introduced to enough of the burdens of life to rule us out as children. Might not have always been on the same side, or on the same page, but we’ve always been on each other’s side. This time the bad was shared along with the good. And part of what bound us together was the gloominess that tied us down. In some way we validated each other; served as proof that we were not as uniquely messed up as we thought ourselves. Blows we even came to once, but what we had together, made it a speck of dust. I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming. Part of me fumes at your lack of warning. Part of me fumes that I didn’t do more at first when it happened. And though now, through chance, I’m able to reach out to reconnect, there’s a yawning gap between us that I don’t know how to cross.

Then I found you in a place I didn’t think I would. Always thought that real friendships were impossible in a workplace. Guess I was wrong. And you’re a reason to go to work every morning, knowing I won’t be alone in the office. Being able to share your feelings and thoughts with someone, and feeling comfortable enough to say things that might get you playfully mocked, but not judged. And having someone who’ll actually give a hoot about how you’re feeling, or instinctively know when something’s amiss. Do you know that one of the job benefits spells out as your name?

You might have been different persons, but you were always there. One way or another. And who knows, there might even be more of you in future. Just always know, that I’m always grateful, I’ll always remember, and I’ll always be your friend.

Friends: through life, for life.

Fingernails dig into the palms. So hard I think they must be bleeding. But the warm trickle I’m expecting doesn’t come. Not clenching hard enough. Muscles ache from the exertion. But I can’t let go. Arms at the ready, fists balled, is how to face the world.

Three lovely ladies dancing. By any means I should be roused, allured. Or there’s something really wrong with me. But within that little separation of a few centimetres, lies a million miles. Eyes closed, facing upwards. Seeing darkness. The deafening music drowns out the teeming voices. In the silence of the pulsating beats and the blackness, the secret place is found. Not the happy place with happy thoughts, but my secret place with my thoughts - my place. Where every uncertainty, every doubt, every disappointment, every awkwardness, every fear, every moment of clenched teeth, every aborted scream and yell, is held safe. For when I need to find myself.

Music that blasts out any hope of conversation. Dim lighting that makes a sometimes sardonic, sometimes grim grin, look convincingly like an ecstatic smile. Everyone’s having a good time. Isn’t necessary for everyone to enjoy it for the same reason. I decided that I like it.

Me likey.

Goodbye

Me manager’s goodbye-ing. Going to miss the frown that tickles his forehead whenever Neighbor and I approach him with a tricky situation. The way he hunches over the oh-so-ridiculously-small (and light and cool) laptop and peers over the cubicle divider when talking to us. Shoulders and arms still poised in typing position, ready to pounce right back on the keyboard – it has no chance of escape. As if the problem would be solvable under 60 seconds if he didn’t deign to emerge from The Life Alphabetic. And somehow it works enough times to say it works.

Going to miss the way he briefs a copy project. The confidence he shows in my churning, and even if he means it matter-of-factly and not strictly meant to be encouraging, it still is. And in a way even more so. In some way it unsettles. ‘Cause I know it’s not a natural ability, but the result of much anxiety, brain-wringing, and frantic groping. Feeling about in the dark, it just so happens that I’ve been shamefully lucky enough always to have grabbed on something I can present without blushing.

Going to miss the things he doesn’t do, as much as the things he does. Like when a mistake’s made, or when something’s slipped your mind, and there’s not the slightest trace of rebuke, not the slimmest feel of negativity. As if only the goods are remembered, and the not-so-goods slip into Alzheimer’s.

Going to miss his way.

Shooting the breeze...

No more hundred-and-seventy-clicks-per-hour hijinks for me anymore. It’s a thing of the past! I’ve moved on. Grown up! From now on it’s the slo-mo – cruising around easy, pacing it geriatric. Hey! And having a box’s kewl! Always having a pillion helmet around is handy, and it feels so much more free riding through the wind without an overstuffed bag weighing you down. Always feels better without baggage.

Timing. Was jaw-jawing about timing. The right, at the wrong time. Guess so much of everything’s based on timing. We Chinese call it Yuen-Fen, or round-shit. Could be something else, I’m not sure. But what I’m sure of is that we should try to make the most of the situation. One day at a time - the way it should be taken.

And we laugh till we cry
Always so hard to say goodbye
And we all sit around here
It’s so good like this; these are times we’ll miss
The memories, I hope they’ll never fade

I miss. Miss all the times we’ve laughed till we cried. Laughing without the slightest trace of malice. Laughing because we know each other so well. Laughing because we know we can, laughing because we know there won’t be a sour aftertaste. Laughing because we were all in it together. Laughing because we didn’t choose to be there, but after being forced, find out that we didn’t too much mind being around each other. Laughing because we know there won’t be too many chances in the future to make friends this way again. Laughing because we’re comfortable, being around mates you can leave your back-watching to. Laughing because at that time we didn’t yet feel like adults. Laughing because that’s what friends do together. Laughing till we cried.

I don’t think we’ll ever find such friends again.

Well, I guess third time lucky doesn’t always apply. Tried three times. And it’s the very first time I’ve actually tried. And I don’t even know what happened. At least nobody can say now that I’ve never tried. Maybe it’s payback for all the lackadaisical that I’ve dished out. Maybe it’s karma, ohhmmm…

Think I’ll return to the backseat for a while. Let the dust settle and the fog to clear before checking things out. Return to that comfy, old, worn-in position that’s always felt so much of home. Put back on the familiar old pair of shoes. Sigh, feel like I’m wasting all my friends’ encouragement and goodwill.

[Lady in Red sashays in the background…]

Flutter. It can only be described as such. Moving from one to another. Always thinking it’ll be the last stop. Always full of hope. Always full of trepidation. Edging forward gingerly. Needing a little (or not so) gentle nudging to advance ever so slightly. Every step a tiptoe. Every breath held.

Ineluctably, the point where it’s your move comes. Sometimes the step of faith is taken. But most times it isn’t. ‘Cause every crossroads has a safer path. And this is the path more trodden. So nothing ever has the chance of being broken. And also means there’s the chance of nothing.

Simply ask yourself if you know definitely that you’re the best deal available. Or if you can provide the best of everything that you would want to provide. Or if you can guarantee without a doubt, a happy ending. And it’s enough to make you pause, halt you in your tracks, make you think again. And again. And again. Till thinking time’s out and drifting time begins...

Guess I needed a wake up call.

And as wake up calls go, this should count as a relatively mild one. Nothing’s missing, and everything’s where they’re supposed to be. Think I should make a late New-Year’s resolution – I resolve not to die in a horrific bike accident. At least for this year. ‘Cause I’ve no clue how this year might play out. Could be interesting. And 6-feet under doesn’t offer a good view. I wannabe in the front row. I wanna ring-side seat. I wanna wanna. And inanimates can’t wanna. So I wanna keep the pulse moving; keep the pulse racing, by safer ways. Will the resolution be resolute? Can’t tell; can try.

I appreciate your concern, Yules. And it’s appreciation, not the obligatory thanks. There’re people who think they’re good people although they’re not naturally so, and there’re people who might not think they’re ‘GOOD’ people although they are, and just think that that’s the way that people naturally should behave. And it just so happens that I think you one of the latter. It’s the small things that speak the loudest. Small things like asking to take-away a cake so someone could keep it for after breaking fast. Like wanting to share the cost of something even though there was absolutely no obligation to do so. Like accompanying someone who needs to pack lunch from somewhere else, so that she wouldn’t be going alone. Might be waxing lyrical here, and that’s just me. But there’s no smoke without fire, and there’s an element of truth within my bombast. Just so you know, for whatever it’s worth, what I think.

I appreciate your concern, Dan. And it’s appreciation, not the obligatory thanks. How do you tell when someone means something to you and not just squat? – When you feel the need to let them know when something has happened to you. And when you know they’d respond immediately and unreservedly. And I appreciate you for being someone I’m not afraid to show my less-than-finest to.

Woof!

Can’t see clearly – the raindrops are hitting the visor too quickly, barely a moment for a drop to run off before the next drop takes its place, and there’s a perpetual semi-translucent film of water that I’m trying to peer through. Tried to swipe off the layer of water with my gloved palm, but it only works for a second, and confidence in my own skills doesn’t extend to riding all the way with one hand. So I make do. I can estimate the lay of the road from the tail-lights in front. On the first lane, and long as I don’t exceed the rightmost tail-light, I know I’m not going to meet the railing along the expressway.

Getting knocked about by the wind – it keeps bumping into me and trying to shove me off. But I’ve made up my mind some time ago not to be pushed around, so I lean forward behind the little piece of plastic that counts for a windscreen on my bike, and it could be psychological, but I feel the speed somehow increase from the reduced drag.

They’re painful – horizontal raindrops feel different from vertical raindrops. You’ve interrupted their passage from sky to ground, they’re pissed off, and they let you know. They pierce into you, and leave their footsteps on the parts you’ve neglected to shield from the rain. So every I’m-riding-in-the-rain leaves you with a curious v-shaped welt on the neck where your shirt doesn’t meet your skin. Kinda like a love-bite from the rain. And, in a way, yes, you’ve gotten somewhat intimate with it, with the rain seeping into your shoes and trousers even with full rain gear on.

And then a silver of sense springs into mind: you don’t actually have to do this. You can slow down, you can park and wait by the side of the road for the rain to subside, you’re being crazy. You ease off on the throttle, give the brakes a gentle nudge, come on, let’s be sensible here.

Then it hits. The storehouse of ‘argh’, ‘ugh’, and ‘what the?!’ pours forth. And WATEVER takes over. And being irrational feels somehow right. And you go, who cares man…

How do you explain it to someone who isn’t you, who doesn’t know what on earth you’re talking about? Just ask the person to re-live the last time he / she felt frustrated, lost, angry, disappointed, ashamed, shocked. This is my slamming-the-door, my stamping-the-foot, my pushing-things-off-the-desk, this is my way.

The expression is different, but it comes from the same feeling.

Guess this goes back up. Took it down originally ‘cause it struck myself as being overly pessimistic. Somewhat melodramatic, somewhat over-the-top. Then I realised that it was only because it didn’t gel with my preferred view of myself, that it was simply a raw unpolished, unembellished nugget of me.
Poof! What a navel-gazer, what a fop!




It tries to get me.

Slithering, stealing around in the shadows it lurks. It knows I know. So it stalks. It doesn’t pounce. It has no need to. It bids its time. It’s patient. It knows I’m not. It waits. It knows my guard can’t always be up. Unlike how I can always manage to be down. It’s my shadow. My constant companion. It… mitigates me. Keeps me from going too far. From rising too high. It binds me. Sometimes I strain against its fetters, once the skin’s rubbed raw enough, I naturally stop – I eventually stop trying.

Come to think of it. It has never abandoned me, or forgotten about me, or let me wander off on my own for a while. It’s always faithful, it’s always around. And I don’t think it’ll ever let me go. It’s the thing at the back of my head telling me: “So you think you can, eh?”

Sometimes I’m caught with it on my face. But I’ve always managed to laugh it off. Always managed not to seem too serious, always managed to avoid saying what’s on my mind. Guess I’ve always thought that pretending long enough would eventually make you the carefree person you always wanted to be. And somehow, some part of me still believes in that.

Whitesnake goes it again:

“No, I don’t know where I’m going.
But, I sure know where I’ve been
Hanging on the promises
In songs of yesterday
And I’ve made up my mind,
I ain’t wasting no more time

Though I keep searching for an answer,
I never seem to find what I’m looking for
Oh Lord, I pray
You give me strength to carry on,
‘Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams

And here I go again on my own
Going down the only road I’ve ever known,
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
And I’ve made up my mind
I ain’t wasting no more time

I’m just another heart in need of rescue,
Waiting on love’s sweet charity
And I’m gonna hold on,
‘Cos I know what it means
To walk along the lonely street of dreams

But, here I go again,
Here I go again,
Here I go again,
Here I go…

And I’ve made up my mind,
I ain’t wasting no more time

But, here I go again,
Here I go again,
Here I go again,
Here I go,
Here I go again…”

Keep on, going on.
Through the good times, and the bad.
Sometimes aside, most times alone.
Sometimes with a light step, sometimes with a heavy heart.
And sometimes, with the only saving grace that you can sleep soundly at night.

Our lives: footsteps on the beach.
Only there for the moment.
Washed away by the waves.
So live for the moment.
‘Cause the moment will pass; so will our lives.
Easy to say; hard to do.
But we can try.
And no one but ourselves to stop us from trying.

Here I go again…

Thanks for the hand, dude.

Seems like we’re both in a rut. Trying to get out of it, trying to move on, but not quite succeeding. Suspect that it’ll always be a struggle – maybe that’s what gives us meaning. What would we be without our challenges? Aimless.

But we’re still trying. And we’re still hoping. And at least we’re not alone in the boat. At the very least we’ve got someone to moan, to gripe, to yabber-yabber to.

Dude, where’s my car?

Listening to 38 Special ask for a Second Chance: “When love makes this sound babe, A heart needs a Second Chance.”

“Since you’ve been gone
I feel my life slipping away
I look to the sky
And everything’s turning grey
When love makes this sound, babe
A heart needs a second chance
Don’t put me down babe
Can’t you see that I love you
Since you’ve been gone I’ve been in a trance
This heart needs a second chance”

Wandering around seemingly nonchalantly. Stumbling around in the dark. Roving around with blinkers on. Not getting any younger. Yet every time there’s a flicker, I always manage to snuff it out. Either let the flame slowly die off, or shun away hiding away from its warmth. Always managed to find an excuse for being a coward – differences, wrong timing, it’s probably nothing – and it always eventually becomes nothing…

Thank you!

Looking at the MRT map for a way from Paya Lebar to cell group at Outram Park. At first glance, the hassle of having to change trains at City Hall, and then once again at Dhoby Ghaut dimmed the spirits a bit. Ruminating over this bit of glum for a moment before realising that there's a direct route all the way from Paya Lebar to Outram Park – didn’t have to switch trains after all. Nice! Now I get to plomp my prodigious posterior all the way to cell group. What a rump of luck! …I meant, Thank You!

In case you’re wondering, I’m on the train as my status has been relegated from Rider, to Commuter. Again. The fourth time I’ve jammed my piston and thrashed the engine. Hopefully the last time too. But I know myself better. In a bit too much of a hurry rushing down to Expo on Sunday when it happened. Bummer.

Sitting on the floor of the carriage; the only one doing so. Seems like everybody’s too self-conscious to do it any more. I feel eyes boring into me, wondering why this guy in formal office attire is camping out on the none-so-clean floor hastily scribbling into a notepad...

Hi.

How are you?

I’m fine. I always am. Just sometimes more so, and sometimes a lot less so.

My constant companion’s back. The feeling. My feeling. Of being in doubt. Of floundering. Of not knowing. Of being detached.

Though. I think I’m getting better. At putting on a smile. Of pretending that nothing matters. At least I’m getting better at something…

BUT

I’m not alone! I have people to give thanks for! [What a quick change in temperament, people who change moods so quickly can’t be trusted.] Dan and Joey. Joey and Dan. Won’t go over-the-top and call them my rock. But to me they’re damn near solid and as good as they come. I hope I’m as much a friend to them as I think they are to me.

Musing over a conversation I had with someone. On loneliness. She had spotted an old uncle eating alone in a dark corner of a food court late at night. An old uncle that I hadn’t even noticed. Her heart had went out to the old uncle and stopped her in her tracks for a moment. And I think that was the first time I had ever really been stirred by someone. A single seemingly-insignificant expression of compassion that spoke volumes, irreversibly shaped my view of her, and affected me. It’s the small things that matter. Those imperceptibly-small vignettes that are the building blocks of the lives we live. Every one of us, none excepted, has our own innumerable moments of truth that punctuate our waking hours and define our lives. The best we could only hope to do, is that the moments when we shine, outweigh the moments when we don’t.

And I guess it’s this simple truth that I hope to live by.

Someone I knew just passed away – found out moments ago. TB caught him and whisked him away. Just like that. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for someone to be around one moment, and gone the next. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be able to see someone; touch someone; connect with someone; then for that someone to be unreachable the next moment.

Seeing someone day after day, their presence is so easy to take for granted. It’s not as if we’re unaware of the fact that we’re all transient; all somewhat ephemeral. But the rigours of daily life collude to little by little, obscure those who’re important to us; lessen their meaningfulness.

Move on? Carry on? Strive on? Yes, but let us carry a little bit of those we used to love with us, and cherish their memory - admire their qualities, marvel at their strength, empathise their peccadilloes, and most of all: remember who they really were; remember what they meant to us.

Going towards a new beginning: at times sprinting heartily towards the future; at times inching gingerly towards it. What it’ll bring, who knows? Faced with it, I guess the best we can is to give all we can.

And hope. And nurture that small but not insignificant thankfulness for the future that’s there at all. We try to pen down our best in our books; try to make our stories as meaningful as possible; try to make our mark in the pages; try to leave behind traces of the lives that’ll inevitably be once-lived, and hopefully will be more than once remembered.

Open, unfinished book – longing for an ending the writer hasn’t got a clue about. He’s just scribbling through the lines. Sometimes he’s just dawdling; doodling in the margins. What plot? What storyline? Spontaneously it started, and a life of its own it has taken. More a long, drawn-out anecdote, than a proper, circumspect autobiography. But at least, at the very least, all the characters hope for a happy ending…

The single speck lays in the water. Languidly lying on the top and care-freely floating around the expanse of the cup. Made so much more obvious by its solitary nature. It doesn’t care that it doesn’t belong.

My finger breaks the surface and churns through the water; the miniature waves emanating from the movement nudging the speck just out of contact. The harder I try the further it goes– best efforts keep it out of reach.

If only my pinkie would calm and allow the water to settle; put it at ease. It might just happily drift onto my finger, where I can gently scoop it up and put things right.

Sunday 15 April, 1.00AM, Kaoshiung, Taiwan

It’s the end of a busy day of seeing the sights in Kaoshiung and my roommate is watching outrageously bad porn on the telly. The said roommate, who shall remain unnamed, was a man-on-a-mission who started going through the channels (all 99 channels) for the adult channel the moment we first entered the hotel room. I would assume that the movie-set they used is unbearably warm, ‘cause the women can’t wait to get rid of their clothes and prance around in conveniently-flimsy and decidedly-skimpy undies. I suspect they’re dancing (or trying to), but to me, they look more like they’re doing some freestyle swimming. The soundtrack of mono tunes piping from the TV reminds me of Chinese opera. I’m tired and trying to sleep but failing, no thanks to my roommate with limited taste and his on-television companions with little clothes and even less talent.

Sunday 8 April, 7.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

It’s Sunday! By this time I should be up and awake and preparing to go to the Expo to book seats for the cell group. Right now, I’m in an outfield forward command post on a mountaintop in Taiwan.

Counting down to the days before we return to camp and to all the simple creature comfort that entails. I want to wash up with running water instead of rationing the drops out of a water bottle. I want to lie down to sleep at night without being attacked by a million hostile Taiwanese bugs. I want to have access to a power outlet so I can charge my hand phone and check my messages. I want to sit down at a table with a packet of the sweet nectar of Papaya Milk, of which taste I’ve acquired; and a good book to go along with it. I want to feel as much as a civilian as I can again.

Saturday 8 April, 8.00PM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

Standing atop a hill, the glittering lights of a city in the far distance. Taking a breather, the wind’s blowing but balmy and right then, right now, everything seems about perfect. Just that moment, fireworks shoot into the sky from a festival far off, adorning the dark swath of the sky with red, green, and yellow; my heart pauses for a second as I think about the last time I watched fireworks. The thought gives added meaning to the moment. But it also makes it somewhat lacking, like there’s a space that’s waiting to be filled.

Saturday 7 April, 12.00PM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

I’ve lost track of the number of days I’ve spent in the field, which day of the week, or even which week of the month I’m in. Not that it matters much out here anyway. Biological clock has gone to the dogs and back, and then back to the dogs again. I’ve got the sensation that the world has paused in mid frame / taken a breather / halted in its tracks for the duration of the exercise, waiting for us to get it over with. But the part of me that has stayed rooted in my previous world tells me that that isn’t true – the rest of the great, big, world is still speeding on; breakneck; in a hurry to go somewhere it doesn’t know.

I’ve gotten so used to the life I know now that withdrawal symptoms might be in the offing. I’ve gotten so used to:

Wearing boots everywhere and never taking them off. Feet would feel light and trippy once back in civvie canvas shoes.

Having a skeleton battle order on my back and everything I need on me: pen, comms configs, notebook, bible, water bottle, tissue, hand phone, combat rations, biscuits, fruit bars, chewing gum, knife, lighter, ammo, rifle, bayonet, nylon string, toggle rope, poncho, entrenching tool; and much, much more. I’m a veritable seven-eleven!

Peeing wherever and whenever the urge strikes. Out here, any patch of ground is fair game, especially when it isn’t complaining.

Note to Self: Try not to pee facing a wind that’s in a hurry. Really, peeing against the wind is a losing battle. The wind always gets you in the end – with your own pee, no less. Then you’ll feel like a little peewee. And that’s more than a wee bit disconcerting.

Come to think of it, could this be the reason they provide us with Gore-Tex waterproof trousers?

Pee-ponder | Pondering pee…

Thursday 5 April, 6.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

If there’s anything peskier than a self-righteous officer demanding a stand-to at six in the AM, I haven’t discovered it yet. Especially when you reached your deployment ground at eight the last night and had been setting up and working until four in the AM. It is infinitely more galling when faced with the spectacle of higher-ranking officers waking up to his squeak, casting a dismissive snook at his subordinate rank, and then duly going back to sleep. The pompous prick in question pretends that he can’t see this affront, and then promptly directs his anger to people of lesser rank but greater character.

I shoot a dirty look, take up position, and am tempted to afford him a view of a certain wagging finger. Wait until he’s out of sight before mounting the buttocks on a comfortable mound of earth and tuck into the breakfast I’d extracted from a pocket.

Wednesday 4 April, 6.00PM, On the road

Another eight hours at the back of a five-tonner has passed and we’re near the end of the journey. I hope. There’s a Sleeping-and-Eating-Buddha perched on a pile of field packs and Skeleton Battle Orders arranged tactically to form the most comfortable reclining position possible. It’s actually an avuncular warrant officer sharing the ride with us. He’s portly, mustached, and balding; and faintly reminds me of Saddam Hussein, only a lot less misbehaved, I imagine. An open box of field rations form the right armrest, and a bag of the local lao po bing biscuits form the left armrest of his armchair of munchies. Since the start of the journey, he has been alternatively eating and sleeping, and regaling us with corny statements and lame jokes that make the journey seem shorter at times. Though sometimes it’s painful being his captive audience, and it then makes the journey seem a lot longer.

In between his dissertation on which particular menu of field ration is tastiest and his recollection of exercises-long-gone-by I zone off and turn to take in the mountains and winding road unfolding before the back of the truck.

Wednesday 4 April, 3.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

The exercise comprises of three missions over a swath of Taiwan. Mission One has come to a premature end due to an unfortunate event and we’re redeploying early. Apparently, a Taiwanese troop-carrying helicopter went down in the area of operations and the Taiwanese have begun search and rescue operations. Our troops are in the vicinity and well poised to assist, but we have to pull out due to political concerns. As far as we know now, six Taiwanese soldiers are dead and another four are missing in the heavily forested area. The less-than-perfect weather conditions don’t bode well for their chances. I cringe to think of the possibility that realpolitik might’ve made the difference between a survivor, and a victim.

Wednesday 4 April, 4.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

Our forward command post is torn down and nearly ready to redeploy, and we’re just waiting for the signal from the division commander to relocate. What’s left is the shell of tarpaulin and the two five-ton trucks that make up the base of the command post. Everyone’s huddling inside, sheltering from the relentless rain and insistent wind.

It’s a surreal moment detached from the usual frantic typing, endless phone ringing, thumping of boots, and staccato barking of commands that characterize a command post during exercise. Each has found his own nook or cranny among the tables, benches, and other assorted accoutrements that clutter the area of little more than several square meters. Men, specialists, officers; everyone’s stuck in this place together; but alone in our own thoughts, our own world. The lives we left back at home come back into focus. As we contemplate the temporary abandonment, our myriad little inner demons surface along with their friends Doubt and Worry. We try to fall asleep; most give up after a while, to continue staring into the cold air. Some pretend to have succeeded; belied by their agitated breathing and trembling limbs.

A lone lantern hangs from the middle. The sickly yellowish glow it emits seems to accentuate the gloom rather than dispel it – as if it was somehow trying to demoralize us by highlighting our dismal state. The small patch of light marks the centre of our quarters, and everything else is drenched in the dark; shadows jittering from the wisps of cold breeze that seep in through uncovered cracks.

The lone observer huddles in the corner I’d sought out for myself. I draw up the hood of the parka and try to nestle my head as deeply as possible within it, I’m a pair of eyes peering through the slit, observing the fellow shiverers in the silence.

Wednesday 4 April, 2.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

One of the systems went berserk around nine last night. I finally accepted that it had gone to that special heaven where over-utilized and under-maintained military equipment go to, re-jigged a workaround and set everything up again by midnight.

Off to try to sleep and was woken up at one to tear down in preparation for redeployment. Barely five minutes after shutting down the system and storing it away there comes a radio message from brigade requesting some urgent information. I begin undoing what I’d just completed, trying to keep the cold, fatigue, and exasperation from my face as best as I can.

Tuesday 3 April, 6.00PM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

Amazingly, tonight promises to be even more challenging than the previous one. I’ve hooded up so only the eyes and hands are exposed, but as a reminder of the cold, the skin on my hands feels like it’s could tear any moment, and the chill works its way into the bones in my hands. I’ve put on another pair of socks in addition, but my feet still has the sensation of being wet.

On exercise there’s usually three to four guys from the same vocation filling a role at the command post. The workload’s split up into maybe eight or six-hour shifts so there’s always someone manning the comms at any time. I’ve been attached out to the forward command post by myself, into the unenviable position of being on call twenty-four-seven, for the next two weeks, a human seven-eleven. The situation bites the most when I can’t finish a meal or get a proper few hours straight of rest. Was brushing my teeth a distance away when they shouted for me. Had to run back to the command post with bottle in hand, rinsing my mouth and acknowledging the call at the same time.

And it’s starting to rain again…

Tuesday 3 April, 8.00AM, Somewhere in the mountains south of Taiwan

It is cold. Colder than I’ve ever felt, even in sub-zero Korea. We’ve deployed somewhere in the mountains in the south of Taiwan, and the weather is unlike anything at sea level. I’m in the back of a jeep cramping together with signal sets, field packs, rifles, boxes of field rations, and much more. It’s raining and I would’ve preferred it to snow instead so everything wouldn't have gotten so wet, especially the ground that we have to work on, which has turned into mud.

I’ve become accustomed to the cacophony of legions of power generators humming away. It becomes white noise; turns into part of the background after a while and you don’t even notice it anymore. At least until it finally goes off and the ears mourn its passing with a buzzy ringing that lingers minutes into the aftermath. Would’ve slept through the ruckus quite pleasantly, the cold is another matter, though.

To think that I doubted the necessity of the standard-issue cold-weather wear. Was quite incredulous when they handed the clothing out. Within the warm and humid confines of the bunk at base camp as I fingered the layers of fabric lying in my arms, it had all seemed kinda ditzy. And I had attributed the apparent over-the-top-ness to perennial Singapore Armed Forces kiasuism. Now I’m wondering why they didn’t hand out gloves as well. Even my toes were shivering from the seeping cold, all jittery even through the thick leather of the boots and the socks underneath.

Finished my work at 3.00AM yesterday (or is it this morning?) and went to sleep (more like TRY to go to sleep). Was curled up in a fetal position all the way, trying to conserve body heat. What followed was an interminable pseudo-sleep pattern. I’d nearly fall into slumber, my body would start cooling down, and once I’d lost more body heat than I could be comfortable with, I’d rise and try to warm up. Then the cycle would repeat itself – all the way through the night.

So from three to seven I was hoping for the sun to do a chop-chop rise and dispel the gloomy chill. Well it rose, but it didn’t bring the thermostat up along with it – the freeze intransigent as ever.

Look on the bright side; it’s also too cold to sweat. Which makes not washing up, and staying in the same set of clothes for weeks a less unpalatable experience.

Monday 2 April, 11.00PM, On the road

This trip entailed more traveling on the back of a lumbering five-ton truck than on the plane to Taiwan. The flight barely took six hours whereas the truck journey took the entire of ten hours from base camp to out first outfield deployment grounds, I kid you not. We departed from Renshou Army Camp in the South of Taiwan around Pingtung and followed the coast north into the mountains.

Moping about mopeds…
The Taiwanese are pretty big fans of this cute two-wheeled contraption – it was apparent from the start of the trip, right from touchdown. From the airport, the first thing that struck was the teeming mass of scooters deluging the roads. The Taiwanese drive on the wrong side of the road, by the way, and they got the driver seat position all mixed up as well. The wave of two-wheelers engulfed the outnumbered cars trying to make their way by. From laid-back casually-dressed uncles to excessively made-up aunties in gaudy clothes in vogue a decade or more ago; from aspiring salary-men in incongruously prim formal office wear to trendy young ladies on pink rides; scooters seemed to be the transport of choice – transport a la mode. As a sop to the scootering masses, or perhaps simply out of pure necessity, most of the major roads set aside scooter lanes for scooting. It’s possible that helmets are required by law, from the looks of it however, it’s a law that’s rarely enforced.

Sunday 1 April, 7.00PM, Paoli Camp

One of the guys came back with bulbous wrapped-up fingers on both hands today. He was relating his incident and trying to balance a cigarette between two bandaged fingers. Either he mishandled a battery, or the battery misbehaved, either way he ended up with fried fingers. Hope he heals soon; it would be pretty sucky to have to return to a mountain of work being unable to type.

Sunday 1 April, 6.19PM, Paoli Camp

It’s Sunday!

The system went down twice today. The first time, I troubleshot the entire system before realizing that the main cable was wedged under some equipment, thereby preventing the signal. Un-wedge it and restart the system, solved!

The second time, I went through the entire process again before a call to headquarters revealed that one of their main systems was down, causing the problem. Re-jigged to the new configuration, solved!

Saturday 31 March, 10.00PM, Paoli Camp

In a situation – supplies are running out. Thought I did an overkill with them but apparently, I’d miscalculated the rate that they’d be consumed. There’s no re-supply until the end of the exercise but I think that’ll be a little too late. Stranded without adequate supplies – what a nightmare…

Being without my reading stuff, that is. I’ve worked my way through New Scientist, Time, Newsweek, Reader’s Digest, The International Herald Tribune, The Straits Times, The Economist, and a host of other publications self-important enough to want to prance a ‘The’ in the front of their titles. I’m left with the last few hundred pages of Paul Kennedy’s The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers. (Yes Joey I still have your book from our poly days, heh heh.) If that goes too I’m going to start reading my bible like an epic novel.

In Taiwan, but also in around the world…

Saturday 31 March, 9.00PM, Paoli Camp

Taiwan Travails and Travels…

Nothing puts you in a better mood than having a well-deserved shower at the end of a sweaty-pigs day.

Was already grinning nonsensically at the shower tiles in front of me when the aspiring crooner in the stall next to mine started belting out some tunes. Simon Cowell would’ve disapproved as discourteously as humanly possible, to say the least. Had to stifle my giggles…

The anti-lullaby abruptly stopped with a clunk, and sliding into my stall was a bottle of shampoo – which evidently belonged to the person attached to the hand that came groping after it, brushing my foot and giving me a jump.

Yikes!

Saturday 31 March, 8.51PM, Paoli Camp

A motley crew of warrant officers and us corporals were chatting up a corner at the end of the day when talk turned to more serious matters.

Warrant officer to corporal: “So what’s the first thing we have to settle tomorrow?”
Corporal: "Breakfast.”

Nearly snorted out the coffee I was drinking at that moment…

Saturday 31 March, 8.49AM, Paoli Camp

It’s the third day in Taiwan and I’ve been taking this notebook out whenever there has been a lull in the activities. Whether or not I actually get down to writing something down is another matter, but I’m grateful or this outlet for the Thought-of-the-Moment.

I’m reading the latest issue of Newsweek – the one featuring on American fighting men in Iraq, and being on reservist, my mind invariably turns to the conversation I had with Jack and Ariel on the train to the airport.

We were talking about National Service, and I had inadvertently used the word ‘despise’ to characterize my view of those who seek escape from serving by fleeing to another country. Kinda regretted using that harsh description of my ambivalence towards them, but it doesn’t change my lesser view of the character of such people. Always striving to avoid being judgmental doesn’t preclude having personal views.

“War is an ugly thing but not the ugliest of things. A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better man than himself.”

Thursday 29 March, 2.30PM, Paoli Camp

Come to think of it, this will be the only case where I’ll travel to another country without a trace. There’s no Taiwanese visa or Immigration stamp. We don’t go through customs or inspections, and once we’re at the camp we change out of civvies and into Taiwanese military togs. Our vehicles are painted in Taiwan Army colours and markings, and we seem to have been intentionally situated miles away from any significant local population. The Malays and Indians in our contingent stick out like sore thumbs, though. Maybe we could conceivably explain them away as indigenous Taiwanese?

It is spring; the weather at sea level is balmy and reminiscent of Singapore on its better days. There’s a brief respite and I’m jotting this down sitting underneath a pine beside a bush of pretty, petite yellow flowers that I can’t name, and mountains are in my foreground. Seems like the South of Taiwan is composed of mountain after mountain – proper ones shrouded in clouds, not the miniscule hills we have back home. The wind’s actually howling – not just simply whispering and caressing, but actually putting in effort to make you sit up and take notice. Rows upon rows of Singapore Army vehicles sit on the tarmac, waiting for us to deploy into the mountains. It’s gonna be some work, but I’m looking forward to it.

Thursday 29 March, 6.30AM, Kaoshiung Airport

Just touched down at Kaoshiung and we’re waiting on the bus that’ll take us on the six-hour ride to Paoli Camp, South Taiwan. In-flight, Denzel Washington tried to keep me entertained with his feelings of Déjà Vu but halfway through the conundrum it got too sci-fi hi-tech for my taste and my attentions turned to the smoked fish lying on the tray before me instead. Wasn’t half-bad, I thought as I juggled between perusing the Economist and trying to keep the fish from flipping onto my lap.

Could’ve just been an oversensitive imagination working, but the stewardesses seemed a little less warm than usual with the knowledge that this planeload was a gaggle of servicemen going on exercise, as if that somehow made us less deserving customers. Or it could have been the wolf whistles from some less gentlemanly quarters of our cohort. Didn’t think we were their first meeting with servicemen, and our encounter seemed to have only bolstered whatever stereotypes they might’ve harbored – so much so that a hint of genuine surprise could be detected when confronted with a smile and Thank-You.

Had a burst of absent-mindedness when leaving the plane. Left my passport underneath a bag on the seat for a quick call on the lavatory, then proceeded to exit the plane contentedly – and blissfully forgetful of the passport. Only at Immigration was the loss noticed, and I had to approach the In-Charge abashedly with my little problem. Thankfully one of the others had spotted the lonesome passport sitting pretty without any owner in sight, and unhinged me from my fix. No more surprises, please…

Thursday 29th March, 12.20AM, Changi Airport

Waiting at the terminal for the flight out to Taiwan, weird how sitting alone on a cold metallic chair looking about, there’s a sudden pensive loneliness. Maybe it’s the throngs of family and friends crowding around those whom like me are heading out of the nation to serve the nation.

It’s only three weeks. And I thought it‘d only be about the three weeks of simply being physically away. But just before leaving, it suddenly becomes more than just a simple period of time – becomes a matter of being out of contact with those who matter; of taking a step, however involuntary, from them – it takes on added significance.

Though, thank you Deasy, Eileen, Jairus, Jack, Ariel, Wilson, and Marissa for meeting up before I left. Was a Wednesday, a workday, and I might be flying off but they still have the next workday to wake up and face. I enjoyed the dinner, and talking to you guys. Thanks and see you when I see you!

Things, stuff, matters, untied ends, errands, and pending issues waiting for me to tackle (or tackle me) once I’m back. Let me settle them, and settle them smoothly. Let me make the right moves and give the right signals. Let me go the right way, and walk the straight-and-narrow. I have to…

Gambatte? Gambarimasu!

Now I get to blog in Hindi, finally!

Sitting on Punggol Beach, notebook in hand, bicycle lying on the ground beside me. Raindrops drizzling down and the ink splotches where they meet the page. Lenny Kravitz serenades in the background and I rush to get the thoughts on paper before the rain gets agitated. No one else in sight and the only other sign of life is the occasional solitary fishing boat that slinky across the straits before me. In front, I’ve never seen clearer seawater anywhere else on the island. Behind, the expanse of lallang, and conifer in the horizon doesn’t look like Singapore at all.

Peaceful, quiet – idyllic. Ironic how such moments that most often come when you're on your own, are the exact moments you wish you could share. We can be so intensely private, so painfully shy, yet so craving of connection at the same time. Amusing how some people can’t bear to talk of themselves in the first person, and resort to seemingly theorizing about others - when these musings are actually the clearest reflections of themselves.

Flying off to Taiwan for three weeks of reservist tomorrow. I’m the only one in my batch going; don’t know a single person in the contingent. Means that the thoughts, insights, and ambivalences swirling relentlessly in me are going to be the only companions. Sometimes unceasing busyness can be a reprieve from debilitating considerations.

The rain’s getting into a tizzy and I try to rattle off what’s left of what there is to say.

In the meantime - trying to get on track, trying to get some stability, so I can get into a position to make some decisions and actually act on them. Just hope I’m not too late by the time I get over the doubts and get about setting my house in order.

…And I bring this House to order.

<-----Bummer.

Met up with Joey today. Finally got to meet the reason for the smile on his face - cute in appearance and sweet in conversation. A nice girl for a good guy – the way things are supposed to be. Warning: Smiles are infectious. Happiness is infectious. Seeing them puts a smile on my face too. Add contentment to the mix and you get a well-adjusted guy. She completes him; makes him a better person.

We were teammates, comrades. Got to the point where we knew what the other was thinking. And supported when the other was filled with doubt. Won some battles; suffered some defeats; shared some dreams. Whether we were excellent debaters was debatable, but the fact that we could hold our own against anyone else, wasn’t. He stirred me up when I harbored second thoughts about our case. I backed him up and showed absolute confidence in him. We’ve lost track of the debates we pulled through together, and the hours we spent training together were countless. But I cherish every time we spent talking about our goals and hopes, every victory we scraped up through with grit and gusto, but most of all the time after defeat when we’d encourage each other even though each doubtless carried his own load of dismay and disappointment.

Impossible to avoid nostalgia for the good old days, but even better new days are yet to come!

Many acquaintances; few friends; but those few, count.

Hear hear!

Worry.

It grabs you by the collar when you least expect it. Sneaks up stealthily from behind and wrings its arms around your neck. Pops out from the shadows and jumps you. Breaks the flow, breaks your chain of thought, and breaks your peace of mind. So many ways things can go wrong and only one slight foreseeable chance of things going right. Sometimes you manage to persuade yourself that the pieces are falling into place, and things are going according to plan. Then you’re dealt a hard one, and it’s back to square one. It’s building a pyramid of cards – one correct way of building it up and infinite opportunities for it to start crumbling down.

Put things in perspective, it’s nothing.
See the bigger picture, take a broader view, and look towards the future.
Don’t worry if the sun don’t shine – you seen it before, you don’t have to worry.
Everyday’s an uphill climb – nothing has changed, believe me when I tell you.

Don’t give up – you know it’s true, got to do what you want to do.
Don’t give up – you don’t have to, got to do what you want to do.
You know it’s true, you don’t have to, got to do what you want to do.
Do what you want to do, just be true.
Do what you want to do, not what you have to.
Give your all, you’ll find truth.
Give your all, and there can only be up.

Your lousy luck - is out of luck.
Get out of the muck - don’t stay stuck.
You’re no lame duck – you don’t suck - you’re full of pluck.
Prove him wrong - make the Devil say: What the f@#k?

Ha!

Just had a change of CG. N187 to E428. From maturity to youth. Kinda preferred my old CG, though. Could be because I’m already familiar with them, and they’re my comfort zone. Could be because I prefer being around more mature types rather than those around the same age.

Anyways, it isn’t really up to me, and I guess a change might be good. It’s a little skewed towards the fairer ones – there’s twice the number of sisters. At least there’s Eileen and Kevin as the constants. Find myself more whimsical and crappy around these younger ones. Hope this CG stays around longer than the predecessor.

Passed!

…my Final Theory Test. Heh heh, only started browsing the textbook on the way from office to SSDC and barely managed to skim through to the end before the invigilator called out to the students to enter the testing room. Ultimate cramming – nearly gave me a cramp. Lady to my left was trying to poke a hole through the touch-screen with manicured fingers and the tapping vaguely reminded me of Lambchop’s The Song that Never Ends, and I was tempted to match her beat with my pedicures. Self-absorbed gentleman to my right was wondering his questions out aloud, and I was wondering why he didn’t just wonder out the answers as well, might be helpful…

In the end, I took five of the allocated fifty minutes and skipped the room – being from the school of thought that believes that the first instinctive answer that pops into your head is in all probability the correct one. Nah, I’m just too lazy to go through the questions properly. But it worked, didn’t it? Barely, I think. But hey, yay!

Fireworks - Used to be just a pretty scene.

Tachometer edges towards the red line. Speedometer oscillates around the 170 mark.

A hundred and seventy: the magic number. Go over and I fear the engine will blow at any second. Go below, and the brain dulls with the monotony. The stubborn willfulness I know isn’t doing me any good keeps the pressure on the throttle. Will I only learn after meeting Saint Peter? Raindrops: a thousand needles piercing my skin as I rush forward into them. The front’s totally drenched and the back’s totally parched. Late, and to top it off, lost. Going in the wrong direction and want to get off the TPE. Service starts in half-an-hour and guess who’s supposed to book seats? At this rate, the only seat that’s going to be booked is the bike’s pillion seat.

See the next exit. Is that the right one? Wonder; take the mind off the road. Split-second before missing the turn, decide that I want to take it after all. Swerve into the exit filter lane. Then I realize that the curve’s curvier than expected. Not going to make it, not at that speed, crap… Start to put on both brakes, but the barrier’s still hurtling towards me. That metallic piece looks awfully hard and sharp… No choice, increase the pressure on the brakes and they respond; start to screech and lock up. Skidding towards the left and trying to counter-steer to the right (would have looked really cool and professional if I had actually pulled it off). At last the tyres decide that they’re not going to take this treatment any longer and they totally let go of the road. The bike shoots off from beneath, leaving me to slide along the asphalt in its wake. Would have been quite a fun ride if it weren’t for the fact that the tarmac’s trying to grab pieces off me. You wanna piece of me?!? Everything happens in slow-mo. Watch as my bike slam into the barrier and do a few flips. I lose momentum and end up sprawled on the road a few meters behind.

The bittersweet feeling of pain washes over me. Ok, it’s just all bitter - there’s nothing sweet about being pummeled. It’s like being trounced, battered, and then fried like tempura. My face goes totally red as the nerve receptors processed what my body had just been through, and the blood rushed to my head. The exquisite sensation makes me feel like throwing up. Woohoo! What a million-dollar feeling! Last time I felt like this was when I broke my collarbone after I botched a big-air jump on the Bukit Timah MTB trail. It’s not a good position to be incapacitated in – just around the corner in the middle of an expressway turn – and I want to crawl out of the way of the fast-moving metallic things that’ll be coming along soon. Take deep breaths and try to will the limbs to move, but they’re listening to the pain rather than my brain, and I’m a stone.

The first lucky customer is a grey Toyota. It turns around the corner and heads straight for me; I stare at it like I’m at the movies. Like the fact that my body’s about to be mashed doesn’t concern me in the least. That’s shock for you. Leaves you a glass-eyed unreactive in the moments of the aftermath. Thankfully, the driver manages to e-brake just before my face got acquainted with his bumper. He must’ve been in shock as well from the experience of nearly squashing me. He stares wide-eyed at me through the windscreen, hands still in a death-grip on the steering wheel, as I stare back at him with glassy-eyes.

Finally, he recollects himself and comes out of the car and to me. I manage to mutter to him to drag me to the pavement. Lying on the grass, I start to take stock.

Lagging behind.

Lagging behind. Far from the end of the race, but nowhere near the beginning, I think. An open-ended race - can end any time. The racers wouldn’t know they were near the end till it’s too late. The others look strong, still going strong. They might be agonizing inside, and thinking the same thing. But for me, for now, the field is indomitable, invincible, unshakable, is there any chance?

But I’m not racing against them. I’m racing against time. A time trial; the timer started without me knowing. I wasn’t aware. Wasn’t even tying my laces, wasn’t even watching. So now I’m trying to make up for lost time. Time. Something ticking away incessantly. Incessant - my efforts can’t be, but time’s passage is. And so I’m panting and breathless and unsure and doubtful. Am I going the right direction? The organizers forgot to put up the signs. Maybe there are no signs, there isn’t supposed to be any. Have to find your own way. So I’m finding my own way. Hope it’s the right way.

Updates!

My bike’s down again, so it’s back to the Public for now. I’m thankful that I’m able to discern the silver lining from this: more time to read, more time to scribble, and more time to think (read: daydream). Of course, there isn’t actually more time per se for me, but I’m being forced to use the commute time constructively. Plus I think I’ve become quite the speed demon on the roads nowadays, to the point where I wonder if I’m trying to throw away my life / end it all / take the express escalator to the pearly gates. I’ve also gotten the chance to fellowship with some of the group members when traveling with them, something I’d never have had the chance to do had I traveled solo by bike. So, I’m thankful my bike broke down. And thankful that I’m thankful. Instead of feeling all screwy and getting puffed up like a mush mellow with this turn in fortune.

And.

Hoping that better things will come along and sweep good things off their feet. ‘Cause good things shouldn’t be left waiting for uncertain things. Limbo’s no place for good things. Good things deserve better things, and by Grace, better things would be jaunting around pretty soon so good things can concentrate on important things. Then good things and better things can become a great thing, and make the situation a swell thing. Is this a sure thing for uncertain things? Not sure, don’t think. That’s why uncertain things is uncertain, the only certain thing is that good things should happen to good things, and that’s what he thinks, and that’s what would make him a happy thing.

Another night, another dream, but it’s always…

Another night, another dream, but it’s always the same thing. It’s always the thing that in my waking moments, I tell myself to put out of mind. Try to concentrate on the task at hand, try to engross myself, try to immerse myself in the cocktail of reality, hoping that it’ll drown out those pesky ever-returning wonderings. Seems so real, when I wake reality’s still struggling to take over. Have to shake the head a bit to centrifuge the reality bytes from the fantasy bits, the emulsion clouds my thoughts.

I wonder when I’ll stop wondering and face forward – extricate my head from my ass!

WhoLivesNearYou?

Ever wondered who lives near you?

It could be a group of ewes,
Living in an igloo.

They don’t go moo!
For them that’s taboo.

Came across from New Zealand in a canoe,
And refused to stay in the zoo.

I feel they belong on the menu,
But with that they argue.

And now I bid adieu!

Jane Austen practices Persuasion.

Two are drawn together, gravitated towards the other. Circumstances un-permit. Time’s askew – the time’s not right. Not just a matter of lack of time. Also a matter of where time places you. Circumstances affect timing, timing determine circumstances. Your circumstances affect your timing - how much time you have to do certain things, when you start doing certain things, is affected by your circumstances. Conversely, when you start doing certain things affect your circumstances – start late, or simply later, and you’re from another world, traveling in another dimension. No definite timeframe, it’s all relative. But relativity matters.

Relevant Revelation: Relativity in relations, everything’s related.

Though I wish they weren’t.

Sunday. Sentosa.

A Sunday on Sentosa. What could be better? What could go wrong? What could be sweeter?

Maybe I should’ve found out more before signing up. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped like a Jack-in-Box. Tried to make the best of it. Tried to try my best. Maybe it wasn’t, but it was a shot. Well that’s just me. Have to know exactly what’s going down and when and how. When going along for the ride, I’m just going along for the ride. Fell short? Well I’m glad I jumped in the first place! Well, thanks for having such an impressive impression of me. Thanks? Hmmnnn… actually, thanks! Anyways, least I could do is just be there. Whether it’s worth anything is up to you.

Just wasn’t expecting to be patronized…

Ha!

Ride’s right.

Dumped a grand in crisp fifties on the counter and went to the bike. First time in a while I’m typing thoughts through the keyboard instead of writing them into a notebook on the bus and train. World, Hold On is playing and the subwoofer blows on me as I pump up the volume.

After the hesitation of the initial reunion, it starts to feel right again. Stretched out over the bike’s where it feels most right. The throttle responds to my gentle urging, she has lain dormant for some time; needs some warming up. But she’s been down so long you can tell she’s dying to move - move at not-so-legal speeds. Filter into the PIE and keep from breaking the surface of 90 as I spot the TP cruising along, patrolling, hunting for spirits like mine – spirits seeped in defiance and addicted to fast wind. I keep a steady hand, soothing, persuading her to be patient, trying to slow her down; it’s not the time to show what she’s made of yet. Stay a few cars behind. Heart’s pumping. Can he sense us trailing him gingerly, waiting for his absence so we can do our thing?

TP diverts off the highway. Doesn’t even look back. Didn’t even spot us. Slight shifting of weight slides us off the straight and wide, onto the fraught and narrow between lanes. Why waste the space in between the traveling cars?

And I open up. Kick the gears up steadily. Keep the throttle twisted to the max – it can turn no further. Pulled backwards by momentum as she hummed louder, then started growling menacingly as rubber struggled to grip the tarmac. We slip pass the lounging cars, mirrors barely whisking through sometimes, actually scraping pass sometimes. Too high on adrenaline to notice scratching paintwork off some cars, only the furious horning says we went too close. Only when we reach my car park that I inspect and notice the rainbow of car paint on the edge of the mirror. Colour of the day: red, white, and blue.

On the edge and all's well.

Ain't that swell?

Midnight, Tuesday.

Fresh off the phone with Beng Chuan. Spoke for an hour. This even when we keep in constant contact through the week and spend much of our weekends together. He’s nearly a decade my senior, but I see him as a peer – a mate in the Ozzie sense of the word. It’s a good friendship.

Torn. Between following Beng Chuan to Chris’ cell group, and staying with Sister Eileen’s. I’ve varying levels of friendship with the different cell group members, and an undetermined level of dunno wat dunno where dunno who. Apologize for being confusing, I’m confused myself. A new start might make things simpler. Or not. Don’t know whether I’d be able to let go, or if there’s anything to let go in the first place. The only person I’m certain might be less than glad with me going would be Sister Eileen. Would feel screwy leaving her charge. Must put in effort to maintain friendship with Sister Eileen and Jairus.

The rest I’m not too sure. Maybe I’m just a passing face. Maybe it’s my shortcoming that I didn’t connect more. Argh. This has been the repeating reel of life. Possible loss and things painful to let go at every stage, every transition.

:)

?

:(

Trying to hold on.

To the pole on the train. But there’s this guy trying to stake out a piece of real estate. Leaning precariously on the pole while there’s three or four others trying to get clearance to it. His life depends on it – you can tell from the way his butt cheeks are clenching the pole. Amazing, he butt-locks the pole all the way from Yishun to City Hall. I’m sure there’s a record in it somewhere. Could he be thinking that he’ll win a WRX for doing so?

Pole must be either gloriously pleased or exceedingly repulsed, depending on its orientation. Pole – caught in the anal embrace. Let’s not come to conclusions. Maybe he’s not trying to sodomize himself on a piece of public property. Maybe he’s just a helpful citizen warming the cold metallic pole in preparation for the general holding comfort.

Tasty …yucks!

...And the sign said long-haired freaky people need not apply.

Oxymoron Fatboy Slim says: Don’t let the Man get you down. And he’s no moron, ‘cause it makes sense. Are you a long-haired freaky person? Don’t need long hair, freckles, or freakiness to be a long-haired freaky person. Just need to keep your own opinions and beliefs when everyone’s swaying to Simon Says. Even when Simon’s doubly persuasive and triply threatening. Scream from the rooftops or keep them to yourself, but, keep them.

Don’t let the Man get you down. Don’t mix up the Men. There’s da Man – the one you can count on. Then there’s the Man – the one you can count on to screw you. The Man might be anywhere - sometimes everywhere. He’ll belittle, cast aspersions, and sow doubts. But don’t listen. And do listen to yourself; even when not everything falls into place exactly purrfectly, at least you did it the Bon Jovi way – Your Way.

Cock a snook.
Don’t let the Man get you down.

Looking over someone’s shoulder.

He’s reading the news. So am I. Home news, well me too! Don’t really have a choice, since he’s the one holding the paper and happens to own it too, and I repress an lunatic urge to ask him to turn to the world news instead.

Apparently, Dr Chee is in the law’s bad books again. Same offence: having the audacity to be in opposition. Though of course the courts have to be creative in coming up with novel offences to charge him with. I could help. Why not charge him with being a smurf? Sure, there’s no basis whatsoever, but when has that ever stopped our ever-so-omnipotent government? Omnipotence in G – encore!

Feel a slight disappointment with the G-men. Supposed to be ruthlessly efficient Agent Smiths, but now they’re acting more like overcooked himbos in G-strings. Can’t they just stop playing with their food and just shoot Dr Chee? Skip the show trials altogether, ‘cause it does get boring after a while. Anyone with half a brain knows a play when they see one. We’re supposed to be promoting the arts in Singapore. Might have forgotten our own local style – a mix of Wayang Kulit and Kabuki Theatre. I mean, this rogue Dr Chee is blasphemous – opposition in democracy – outrageous, some people are just looking for trouble, kiam pah!

Party on!
Support PAP smear party!

Meeting Thou Leong tomorrow.

Thanks for calling to meet up. Though I’d never say it to his face. ‘Cause he’s allergic to thanks, praise, or any other generally non-abusive language. There’s a reaction and his head swells up. It’s called Bigheaditis and it’s incurable. Or tua-tow in Hokkien. Luckily, it’s not contagious. Our conversations are more like verbal sparring matches. And they always end with him throwing up his arms with a guttural expression of exasperation. Sounds like a piggy with sore throat, mouthful of crud, and an enema up the …well think I’m pushing it. Heh heh.

Thou Leong reads this so I’d better say: “Just kidding” in case he decides to go postal and declares irreconcilable jihad on me bons bons. Then I’d have to buy him a drink and placate him, scratch him behind the ears and feed him some biscuits, stuff like that. Hope he doesn’t see this before we meet tomorrow, muahahahoho!

Known Thou Leong since secondary. Both of us made up two-thirds of a buddy troika before the other one-third flew up and away into the sky and got abducted by the clouds. Well, times come and go; mere acquaintances come and prance around do a little jiggy-wiggy and go; buddies hang around. In our case, to irritate. Faithful Thou Leong will still be around to bug even when my head’s bare without the help of scissors, even when peeing becomes a complicated affair, and even when I’m finally sitting on a obscenely fat and hairy bank account (Haha, hopefully!).

Ok, there should be give-and-take. Thou Leong doesn’t have a monopoly on the irritating. I share the burden and do my own irritating too. It’s a mutually irritating relationship – the best kind! I think my hope for us is that we never grow up. Sure we’ll get a little more serious about the biggies of life and reluctantly cultivate a few white hairs. But in less-than-matter-of-life-and-death stuff, let’s stay childlike, whimsical, playful, impulsive, and youthful!

Dude, where’s my car?

:)

You Are As Cool As They Come

Rational and relaxed, no one could accuse you of being dramatic. You roll with the punches, and nothing ever gets you too worked up. You are able to maintain perspective and see the big picture. And even if you're emotional inside, you don't let it show. You're great at keeping it together, and you're rewarded for that. People see you as an ideal friend, employee, and partner.

People Envy Your Generosity

You're a giving soul, and you'd do almost anything for those you love. And they'd do anything for you! People may envy how giving you are, but more than anything, they envy those you open your heart to.

Your Attitude is Better than 60% of the Population

You have a good attitude. While a realist, you do see the positive side of most things. People love to be around you.

Ringing to work.

Walking towards the station. Jivebox’s playing. Pace my steps to the beat. Something’s different today. The tracks play different. There’s an added quality; a certain ring to them. Like the deejay went eccentric and mixed in a novel background tune. Then I realise it’s not coming from the earphones, but from the sling bag hanging by the side. And I remember the bell key chain that was added to the bag yesterday. Ha! Sorry, no mystical awakening of long-dormant senses or discovery of hidden audio realms for me.

Thought over the chat with Sis E and M on Sunday. Hazarded a thought: Maybe I should drop the pseudonyms? Does my obscuring of names matter anyway? Try again. Went for a chat with Sister Eileen and Michelle on Sunday. Three of us sitting at Macdonald’s waiting for Jairus. Our right to the table – a miserly cup of lemon tea I bought – sat untouched, alone, unwanted, and abandoned in the middle of the table. Poor cuppa. Divided from the rest of its mates just to decorate a barren tabletop, only to be dumped into trash in the end. Oh, woe is me, hee hee! Back to the people!

Sister Eileen seemed to be hung on a certain topic; kept at it even as I began to get uncomfortable. And I don’t hide feelings well. Wonder if she noticed my uneasiness. Even started hinting about other people of my age group in the cell groups. Hmmnnn… Did she think I was interested in something’s that’s actually at the top of the list of things to avoid at this time? Sometimes it’s not up to us. Actually, I don’t know. Anyway…

Sister Eileen’s expecting soon. Full of expectancy for a beautiful, healthy child – a newfound source of shared joy for Sister Eileen and Jairus, and a rallying point for the cell group. New life spurs new life. Not naïve, but a child born into this world to two loving parents is the most gorgeous thing. You see, the world’s screwed up and topsy-turvy. But when two people trust, love, and are committed enough to each other to have the courage to fight the odds; and work together to raise a blessing to the world, it’s really something meaningful, and inspirational. And the fact that it happens often enough to keep us humans from extinction is in itself a miracle!

One thing though. Sister Eileen’s a petite lady, and the child she’s carrying isn’t exactly the smallest thing. Praying for a smooth delivery and her fast recovery…

You Are 90% Grown Up, 10% Kid

Your emotional maturity is fully developed, and you have an excellent grasp on your emotions. In fact, you are so emotionally mature - you should consider being a therapist!

Your Quirk Factor: 60%

You're a pretty quirky person, but you're just normal enough to hide it. Congratulations - you've fooled other people into thinking you're just like them!

You're Not Sarcastic At all

Sarcasm isn't for you, and you really don't appreciate it when people get their snark on. You still have a great sense of humor. You just prefer a silly joke to a sarcastic one. You sometimes have trouble knowing when people are mocking you. But you do know you don't like it!

You are a Believer

You believe in God and your chosen religion. Whether you're Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or Hindu.. Your convictions are strong and unwavering. You think your religion is the one true way, for everyone.

Sunday morning on the train again. Again on the train on a Sunday morning.

Standing the ground instead of warming a seat. Would’ve been best to arrive at Expo around nine-thirtyish. It’s way pass nine and the train just left Yishun. A vision of me being late suddenly strikes me, and I dream of finally getting my bike back. But I rose at seven, how did the time slink away? Then I remember succumbing to the temptation to surf some net, read some news, while some time, even before preparing to start to leave my home proper. Don’t wish to make unpunctuality an attribute. Note: Better do something about it!

Spotted an Ah Ma sporting pink Crocs. Even geriatrics are getting in on the buaya craze! And here I was thinking they were too hip for me, my style’s staid. Gotta get my paws on someone’s pair for a tryout, find out what’s the fuss about.

Giving the jaw-jaws a little workout. Chewing incessantly on a bit of gum I keep twirled around on the tongue. Chew, flip, chew, flip. Hold on! The taste receptors on the tip of the tongue just indicated that I’ve hit still-sweet portion of the chunk. Jackpot! Sweet! So I manoeuvre to explore the as-of-yet un-chewed territory. Mmnnn... Even a mini bit of indigestible rubber’s worth at least a few pen strokes.

Sigh. Beng Chuan’s not going be around service today. He already went yesterday, but I wouldn’t have minded a single bit had he decided to come again anyway. Missing him already...

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 15% Conservative, 85% Liberal

Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

You Were a Rabbit

You are fast thinking and tend to live by your wits. Getting over fears is important to you, as is strengthening intuition.

You Are 92% Open Minded

You are so open minded that your brain may have fallen out! Well, not really. But you may be confused on where you stand. You don't have a judgemental bone in your body, and you're very accepting. You enjoy the best of every life philosophy, even if you sometimes contradict yourself.

Just got off the phone with BC and just got off the train at Yishun.

Looked around for somewhere to put thoughts on paper. First CGM without BC: doesn’t feel the same. Doesn’t seem right. Something’s wrong. Something’s missing. The boat’s unanchored. Not saying that nothing’s staying me. Just saying that he’s a friend who matters. Friends who matter I don’t take lightly. Rightly so.

It’s not often you find a friend, brother. When you do, cling on. Always keep them close, if that’s the only thing I’ve ever known. Every stage brings its own loss. Starts with a heartfelt promise to stay in touch. Then time and distance becomes the unceasing drops of water on the rock of your friendship. The separating never stops. Soon the value of the tie once held dearly is forgotten. Soon. Always so gradual, always too soon.

Call it dependency. Call it soul-tie. Call it whatever you want. Whatever does it for you. Whatever makes you jiggly. Whatever. You know what’s important to you, and I know what’s important to me. You ain’t my daddy, and I don’t presume to be yours.

Brings to mind a bit of uncommon common sense from my man, Dan. About realness. A pretty good indicator of a real friend is the person’s interest in what’s under the surface of you. Love showing interest in others; enjoy listening; want to be the safe, reassuring ear. But he reminds me to sometimes evaluate instead of simply absorbing and observing. I don’t deem it an invitation to judgment, but a reminder to be more genuinely inquisitive of others. Never be a Hi-Bye Friend. Easier said than done, try to hold myself to it.

Keep it real.

You Are 49% Impulsive

You're quite impulsive, but you never are reckless. You qualify as a very spontaneous person, but you still know how to honor your commitments. And while responsibility doesn't come easy to you, having fun does!

Your Depression Level: 0%

You aren't depressed, and you probably already knew that. Like everyone else, you have ups and downs. But unlike most people, you've mastered keeping your mood stable.

You Are Balanced - Realist - Powerful

You feel your life is controlled both externally and internally. You have a good sense of what you can control and what you should let go. Depending on the situation, you sometimes try to exert more control. Other times, you accept things for what they are and go with the flow. You are a realist when it comes to luck. You don't attribute everything to luck, but you do know some things are random. You don't beat yourself up when bad things happen to you... But you do your best to try to make your own luck. When it comes to who's in charge, it's you. Life is a kingdom, and you're the grand ruler. You don't care much about what others think. But they better care what you think!

He croons: “Can we still be friends?” and I listen on the train.

Urge to pen hasn’t struck me recently, and it’s with a slight tinge of guilt that I pick it up to write off the neglect. Poring over a little bit of happiness an angel granted me. Actually; Angel lent me Happiness is a Way of Mind, a Way of Life; and I’ve been imbibing it in voracious bits. Thirty parts in thirty days, to be consumed daily – like an antibiotic against the negative. Never been one to follow instructions. Been swallowing ten pills at a time. Both ways I end up with ten in ten, so the bunch of wires in my head guesses that it adds up.

Lull. In a lull right now. Grateful for and fearful of it at the same time. Coasting. Wheels turning; barely enough to keep the sunny side up. Moving forward not on propulsion, just by the light wind in the sails.

Sure you’ve seen one of them bouncing-head dolls that decorate dashboards. Realise I must look like one to the commuters. Puppy or Fortune God? Think I prefer puppy, hee! Head thumps to the Muvo and nods to the literature in the hands.

Paya Lebar. Reverse track to play “Can we still be friends?” for the tenth time and get on my feet. Maybe I should rename the blog to “The Commuter Diaries”

And can we still be friends?

You are 33% Leo

Hmmnnn, according to my birth date I'm 100% Leo...

You Are Super Spicy

You're a little bit crazy, a little bit naughty, and a whole lot of sexy. You go beyond hot - you set people's senses on fire!

?Sure or not?

Ha!

You Are 32% Control Freak

You have achieved the perfect balance of control and letting go. You tend to roll with whatever life brings, but you never get complacent.

Your Five Variable Love Profile

Propensity for Monogamy: Your propensity for monogamy is high. You find it easy to be devoted and loyal to one person. And in return, you expect the same from who you love. Any sign of straying, and you'll end things. Experience Level: Your experience level is low. You've probably either had only one relationship.. Or all of your relationships have been very similar. You still have a lot to learn... and a lot to try! Dominance: Your dominance is low. This doesn't mean you're a doormat, just balanced. You know a relationship is not about getting your way. And you love to give your sweetie a lot of freedom. Cynicism: Your cynicism is low. You are an eternal optimist when it comes to love and romance. No matter how many times you've been hurt - you're never bitter. You believe in one true love, your perfect soulmate. And if you haven't found true love yet, you know you will soon. Independence: Your independence is high. You don't need to be in love, and sometimes you don't even want love. Having your own life is very important for you... Even more important than having a relationship.

You Are A Romantic

You life your life like a fairy tale... or at least you try to. Living for magical moments, you believe there's only one true love for you. Love is the most important thing in your life, and you don't take it for granted. Your perfect match loves to be in love as much as you do!

Your Passion is Gray

Your sexual attitude is best described as apathetic. Often joking that you're asexual, you can go months without getting any. For you, great sex does not make or break a relationship. If it happens, it's just the icing on the cake.

You Are 20% Sociopath

You're empathetic, loyal, and introspective. In other words, there's no way you're a sociopath... but you can spot one pretty easily!

Your Love Element Is Metal

In love, you inspire and respect your partner. For you, love is all about fusing together for one incredible life experience. You attract others with wit and a bit of flash. Your flirting style is defined by making others want and value you. Greatness and optimism are the cornerstones of your love life. You may let go too easily, but you never get weighed down by your past. You connect best with: Earth Avoid: Fire You and another Metal element: will control and smother each other

Your Kissing Purity Score: 100% Pure

You've hardly ever been kissed But the kisses you've given are very missed

What Your Bathroom Habits Say About You

You are very independent and self-centered. You don't solve other people's problems - and you don't expect them to solve yours. You spend a lot on clothes, and you tend to be a very dresser. However, it's hard for you to throw away trendy clothes when they go out of style. You are a little shy and easily embarrassed. You often wonder if you are normal. In relationships, you tend to be very romantic and demanding. You'll treat your partner like gold, but you expect a lot in return.

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to obedience and warmth. In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored. You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was insecure and in constant need of reassurance. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

Your Extroversion Profile:

Friendliness: Very High

Sociability: Very High

Cheerfulness: High

Excitement Seeking: Medium

Activity Level: Low

Assertiveness: Low

Your Geek Profile:

Fashion Geekiness: High Movie Geekiness: Moderate Academic Geekiness: None Gamer Geekiness: None Geekiness in Love: None General Geekiness: None Internet Geekiness: None Music Geekiness: None SciFi Geekiness: None

You Communicate With Your Ears

You love conversations, both as a listener and a talker. What people say is important to you, and you're often most affected by words, not actions. You love to hear complements from others. And when you're upset, you often talk to yourself. Music is very important to you. It's difficult to find you without your iPod.

You Have a Melancholic Temperament

Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything. You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life. You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you. Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace. You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life. Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times. At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you. You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others. You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult.

Your Seduction Style: Sweet Talker

Your seduction technique can be summed up with "charm" You know that if you have the chance to talk to someone... Well, you won't be talking for long! ;-) You're great at telling potential lovers what they want to hear. Partially, because you're a great reflective listener and good at complementing. The other part of your formula? Focusing your conversation completely on the other person. Your "sweet talking" ways have taken you far in romance - and in life. You can finess your way through any difficult situation, with a smile on your face. Speeding tickets, job interviews... bring it on! You truly live a *charmed life*

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion: You have high extroversion. You are outgoing and engaging, with both strangers and friends. You truly enjoy being with people and bring energy into any situation. Enthusiastic and fun, you're the first to say "let's go!" Conscientiousness: You have medium conscientiousness. You're generally good at balancing work and play. When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done. But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it. Agreeableness: You have high agreeableness. You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly. Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise with almost anyone. You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance. Neuroticism: You have medium neuroticism. You're generally cool and collected, but sometimes you do panic. Little worries or problems can consume you, draining your energy. Your life is pretty smooth, but there's a few emotional bumps you'd like to get rid of. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is high. In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas. You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits. A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything.

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary. If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

You Have Good Karma

In general, you like to do the right thing when it comes to others. Your caring personality really shines through. Sure, you have your moments of weakness - and occasionally act out. But, all in all, you're karma is good... even with those few dark spots.

What You Really Think Of Your Friends

X is your soulmate.

You truly love X.

You consider X your true friend.

You know that X is always thinking of you.

You'll remember X for the rest of your life.

You secretly think X is creative, charming, and a bit too dramatic at times.

You secretly think that X is colorful, impulsive, and a total risk taker.

You secretly think that X is loyal and trustworthy to you. And that X changes lovers faster than underwear.

You secretly think X is shy and nonconfrontational. And that X has a hidden internet romance.

What the?!?

You Are 40% Boyish and 60% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

You Are A Good Friend

You're always willing to listen Or lend a shoulder to cry on You're there through thick and thin Many people consider you their "best friend"!

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You give completely and unconditionally in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

You Are 30% Weird

Not enough to scare other people... But sometimes you scare yourself.

You Are An ISFJ

The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal. A good listener, you excel at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.

Analysing the self-analysis.

See myself as loyal, but don't inspire much loyalty.

Especially love listening, and helping others, but don't think excelling is the word, sometimes fear making things worse.

Enjoy engaging the senses in spare time through: art - maybe; cooking - more like eating, hee; music - definitely.

On devotion, and special things, hmmnnn…

Make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist? I’m in the wrong profession!

:)

Dumping Italian beauty Sidi for Japanese hot chick Shimano!

Introducing the Shimano SH-M225 Competition MTB Shoes - drool... biker wet dreams... Shimanosexual!

Features:

The ultimate blend of fit and performance

Superstiff carbon fiber reinforced pedaling platform

Secure fitting, micro-adjust buckle with reinforced dual straps

Durable and reinforced:breathable mesh, low profile armor, supple synthetic upper insures the perfect fit mile after mile

Comfortable shape-retention padding and molded heel support cup

Injected molded ultra-aggressive, mud shedding outsole

Replaceable resin/alloy studs

In other words - SWEEEET!!!

Nearly three hundred big ones, wahalamak!

Shimano, because I’m worth it!

Per Diem.

Not telling a person to tiam lah!
Hee!

Rather, living by the day, for the day. The mind shrivels into a prune whenever the future is broached. Think only of the immediate. ‘Cause in all possibility, the person you see yourself as in the future most likely won’t be you. Don’t start to gloom; you’ll end up better, just keep living for the day!

Dan and I were ruminating…
Over how fast time flies. Doesn’t just float past gracefully – zooms past with a purpose – and we’d better be moving with a purpose as well if we’re not to be left behind as time goes on.

Ruminating like cows…
Over how the different stages leap up to strike us even when we think we’re just strolling along without a care.

Chewing it…
Blink and we’re at Signals Institute training to be signallers. Next blink posts us to 3SIG, rehearsing the invasion of Malaysia. Another blink grants us ORD status with knickers in a bundle worrying about finding jobs. Latest blink brings us to the present – running the rat race, trying to make ends meet, good thing we both know someone who’ll stand in the gap when the ends doesn’t.

Digesting it…
What’s up with me and cows today? What’s my beef? Must’ve been the work today.
Ended the day with more work than I started with this morning, ugh.
But still got through the day, hah!

Can’t wait to ride this weekend.

I want to ride
Go fast on my own strength
Lock my feet to the pedals and feel the bike moving with me as one
Grin contemptuously as I contemplate the hill ahead
Savour the mud as it splatters onto my clothes, covers my face, stings my eyes
Laugh maniacally as I bounce down the descent
Stick a tongue out at the horning motorists as I make a stand for bikers and take a lane, neh!

And close my eyes and raise my head and smile as I give thanks for being given the chance to ride.

Dan the man. What a rock.

Bid farewell to my friend at the station. Dinner at seven and now it’s eleven. Seemed too short, and decided to take the East-West together instead of my usual South-North. Added more than ten stations to the journey but he added much more to me.

Friendship first begun at Signals Institute, and I’ll be darned if it ends before either of us ends. Says I changed him in part, for a little bit better. Never intended to, but there’s gladness that I have an impact on him. On the other hand he hasn’t changed me a bit, but he’s a rock that always reminds me of how I’ve changed over the years, of the distance I’ve come. The term ‘down-to-earth’ was created for him. Pulls me back, tries to put my feet on the ground when I’m hovering around in uncertainty and indecision.

Shared my crossroads with him. He’s ever encouraging, but never flinching. Never flinches from presenting reality to me. Doesn’t like seeing me in limbo. Doesn’t approve of what I’m doing. Feels that I’m a cow with a ring being pulled by the nose. Advises me to get my priorities right. Always has so much more faith in me than I have in myself. Touched that he always feels I deserve better.

Grudgingly, I cannot refute or deny the common sense he dishes out whether I have the appetite for it or not. Says what he means and means what he says. Anyone who says otherwise has me to contend with. One uncharismatic straight-talking friend is worth more than a hundred fashionable poseurs. Puts a hunger in my heart never to lose this connection, or even allow it to diminish in any way.

Parted with the promise that we’re best friends, and someday will be each other’s best man.

What can you do for someone who has everything except time?

How do you give someone more time? Don’t think it’s within anyone’s ability. ‘Cept for the Boss.

The feeling of powerlessness rears its head. Fear that concern might appear trite, though every expression carries the same thoughts; comes from the same place. Then I do the next best thing: appeal to the Boss.

Please:
Lighten the burden,
Increase the person’s ability to carry it,
Or simply ameliorate the toll; lighten the strain if not the load.

Ohmmm......

Update!

Via psychological analysis of certain interactions and careful observance of the timing of certain seemingly insignificant actions, Sherlock Holmes has come to the conclusion that said thingy discussed in prior post was really a meaningful thing disguised in a small package. Turned out to be something in the end.

Really something! – thought about the thing – think it’s such a thoughtful thing.

Which brings forth a measured: Yippppeeeee!!!!!!

Now no one can accuse me of being emotionally shutdown, as P K would put it. Hey, I’m impressed with my own sensitivity, shows my receptors aren’t totally gone to case yet. Ahhh, modesty, such a lacking trait, hee hee!

PS: This post seem vague, disjointed, or just plain makes no sense?
Don’t worry! It’s not because your skills of comprehension and reasoning are failing you, it’s just that the post’s deliberately constructed this way. Unless the post before and the post after doesn’t make any sense as well, then there are a few shrinks, ahem, medical professionals I could recommend.

Or it could just be because I’m babbling incoherent.

Five in the AM.

Just woke up. Sleepy, but unable to sleep any longer. Caught myself watching Z-movies again. Recollect my thoughts. Bring my pieces together. Parts are still making their way across the border between dream and real. Take a moment to figure out whether in the dream was I rehashing things past, or creating things imagined.

Pathetic: me. Keep getting affected by small things. The juggernaut of a sailing ship gets blown hopelessly off-course by a gentle breeze from blue. Or are they big things disguised in small packages? See what I mean? Little wondering things inspire more pondering than bombastic certain things. Might turn out not being any thing in the first place.

Really something – thinking about things – think it’s such a thoughtful thing.

Erroneous Email.Email Errata:

From: wenguang
To: Daniel
Sent: Friday, September 13, 2006 9:52 AM
Subject: about WLP108AG-MC2A


Dear Daniel:

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wenguang

Erm, totally dude?

Lunchtime.

Sitting at the edge, of a field. In the refuge of the shade of trees as the breeze flows through; ruffles my hair; steals a touch of my cheeks. Found this place while strolling around during lunchtime a few weeks back. It’s bordered by houses but at this time of the day there’s no one else to be seen.

There’s delight in escaping the concrete embrace for a little while halfway through the day. Replace the jagged man-made edges with smooth grass fields and swaying trees. Any given stalk of leaf or blade of grass flows with more life and energy than all the machines in the office. And I sit in green bliss and recharge for as long as I can before I begin the trek back to officedom.

Dreams

Dreams.

Waking moments.

Dreams. Waking moments. Dreams. Waking moments.

Alternating. Sometimes it seems like life is an alternation between dreams and waking moments. A game of musical chairs that plays you. You forget which is which. Lose track of where you are; what you’re doing. Ever walked into a room and couldn’t remember why you’re there? Or felt a sense of something like déjà vu, but not exactly? Not talking Matrix here. Dreams. Waking moments. The distinction is a line drawn in sand. The line is shifting in some places, blurry in some places, completely faded in some places.

People. You meet them in dreams. Or rather, they come to see you because you’re a somewhat passive spectator in your dreams. As if they somehow stumbled upon this obscure room that is your dream and on a whim, decided to drop in to say hello. Like watching a movie - you decipher what you must be saying or doing from their words and actions. They’re in Dolby Technicolor and you’re miming. So clear - the pictures and sounds – like a million-megapixel screen with surround sound.

Are they a window to the future? Or a window to the heart? When awake you’re sometimes uncertain. When dreaming you always know what you’re doing, always know what you’re after.

If despite myself I manage not to screw things up, they might just turn out being windows to both the future and the heart…

Besides jousting with enigmatic Chinese engineers, I also work with a cute little lady who resides in the cubicle beside.

Her dominion consists of three cubicles along with the usual accoutrements: PCs, files, documents, product samples, etc, etc squared and other knick-knacks in assorted flavours. There’s also this two imposing rows of file cabinets lining the corridor that leads to the outside world. The cabinets restrain a fearsome collection of documents. As you attempt to sneak pass the paperwork legion you can almost make out their frenzied cries to you: “Work! Work! You little twerp!” Scary… Intimidating Documentapolis…

As you must’ve guessed by now, Chew Yan’s in document control. In fact, she’s Document Control. Like so many other functions in the company, it’s a one-man show. This means she handles all the test reports, technical drawings, product specifications, certification, regulatory documents, the manuals when I’m done with them, and much else that’s given life from dead trees. To those who don’t know better, her realm looks an utter mess. But she always knows the location of every single one of her subjects. You see, the biggest repository of information there isn’t contained in any of the numerous PCs littering the office, but in her head. And to boot, she’s nice to work with!

Every so often, some comic relief drifts over from her cubicle as she ticks someone off. Hmmnnn… Just slipped a finger and out came ‘dubicle’. ‘Dubicle’, could that be a word meaning a cubicle where work of dubious quality is done? Hmmnnn again… Just another thought: some of the thoughts emanating from the cubicle that’s my mind seem to me to be of dubious sanity, and even less clarity. BUT I digress. Back to Chewy Yan. The way some people talk somehow seems endearing. Some people manage to put a smile on your face even as they tell you to take a hike. She does her share of ticking off, but her boiler’s never actually ticking. She’s never heated up. There’s a pattern: begins with some discontented murmurs, builds up into a little grumbling, but tops off in the end with a cheerful “Leave it to me!”

Just today before knocking off, she trotted over to reveal a Chinese one-cent note. Do I call it a one-Yuan-cent note? Sounds weird. That’s like, one-fifth local cent? Barely the size of a movie ticket and not nearly half as impressive, Monopoly money looks more legit. Supermarket coupons beat it hands-down in the looks department. She wonders if it’s even worth the paper it’s printed on. Personally, I felt it more interesting than a thousand-Yuan note, though I would prefer to receive the bigger moolah paper any day, ha!

Whoops! The train announces in a sultry voice that I’m back at Yishun and decides for me that I’ve done enough rambling for today.

Post-a-tip:

POSTAGE
Those ridiculous free introductory or subscription type letters that you get in the mail have a postage-guaranteed return postcard for your convenience. The next one you get, paste it on a brick and drop it in the mailbox. The company is required by law to pay the postage. You can also get rid of all your garbage this way.

Now you’re wondering where this nugget came from…

Jovial Bon Jovi drums in a point.

Who says you can’t go home?

Home’s where you decide you belong. Some homes you were born into, some homes you joined, and some homes you just naturally grew into.

Home’s not a building, not a contraption of concrete and stone thrown together that just managed to stand longer than a few seconds.

Home’s not where you’re trying to enter, not where you contrive and maintain an image seeking acceptance from those you don’t matter to, and don’t actually matter to you.

Home’s where you don’t really care which side of yourself you’re showing to those around, but simply really care about them.

Home’s where you sometimes feel like taking a break from when things are smooth and seem a little boring, but is the first place you think of when you need a break from everything else.

Home’s the people that make it up; whom you can put your back against; whom you can lean on for support; who’re always ready to catch you if you fall; even if it means using themselves to break the fall for you.

Home’s the people who always love you even when you sometimes forget to love them back.

Home’s home! Feels like home at home! Home sweet home!

Who says you can’t go home?
There’s only one place they call you one of their own.
Don’t be a dog without a bone.
It’s alright it’s alright!
Just go home!

:)

Cycling: Delicate balancing, with the ever-present fear of falling off.

Can’t go too fast. Tunnel vision sets in. Everything loses clarity and gets blurry. Things pop out from nowhere and knock you down. There’s no time to react. No avenue for mistake. Go fast, go down fast. Momentum can be a friend, power you over obstacles, and speed you through the rough patches. But one wrong move and there’s little chance of being able to regain balance, righting it, salvaging the situation.

Can’t go slow. Moving forward’s the only way to stay upright, keep the rubber side down. Stop advancing for a moment and capricious balance deserts you to the wiles of gravity. Many ways to lose balance and fall, but you always end up in the dirt.

Then you’re left at rock bottom wondering how this happened. How’d you mess it up when you were so careful? Then you realise it’s because you were too careful. Went too slow.

The greatest fear is fear itself?

Eight on the train.

Eight Sunday Morning. Taking the train to Expo. Supposed to meet Sis E for B-Study before service. Wonder if she knows she’s Sis E. Sounds like sissy, hee hee. Appreciate her coming earlier for one-on-one B-Study.

Slept early for once yesterday night. Still woke up groggy. Seems like the extra hours went towards dreaming. Exact contents unknown, but can’t forget who’s traipsing around the Zs.