Sliding

I've been sliding off the communications grid for some good reasons.

1) Work is a relentless tide of deadlines, responsiblities and ideas. Especially so when my manager is all about the job, the perfect role model -- efficient, smart and without an extremely diversed social life.

I'm just the new maverick in the deck. "You do too much. You're still new, that's why you try to do everything; I was once like that," I was told. I don't believe in that bullsit. For someone like me, it takes a fair bit to make me regret my decisions -- I'm way too romantic for that.

I love my job, though. Can't say the same for some of the colleagues, but I guess you'll get used to their habits after a while.

2) I've been racing. Adventure races are my new muse. There's just something about having the official excuse to monkey about on a forest trail, tearing through gravel patches on a bicycle and commanding your gear to help you achieve a common objective that makes me so happy.

Yes, I don't mind getting dirty too. It's just a part of the journey, and an essential part of a racer's ultimate image.

3) Observing things and people. Oh, the sweet tireless roaming and romantic eye -- it never sleeps.

I still love to look at people and watch the world around me. With a fair amount of certainty, I dare say that "everything" is getting prettier by the days. The evolution of packaging, promotions and presentation have surpassed my previously cynical curiosity of the flesh and material. If I weren't so shy, I'm sure I'd now be a bit of a shark in these shirts I wear.

Needless to say, I have at times wondered if I'm one of the several unfortunate drop-outs from evolution. Every cycle needs them -- every wave of popular culture needs people to push aside.

Then again, with a tan that makes me look like I've been holidaying in the bahamas could also mean that I've just stepped out onto an alternate image path. Ah, but for something classy...

4) I'm about to embark on a very big personal project. A cross between publicity efforts for sports and sports journalism, I'm championing a campaign to develop my school's sports identity. I've got a plan; now let's see if I've got the brains to make it happen.

My blog will change in its format too, to suit this new direction. You, my reader, will get a first-hand experience of what it is that I'm working on. Soon.

5) I'm still searching for answers. I really ought to stop, but it's like asking me not to think about you.

I typically start off wondering about how you're doing, and then I remember things I really ought to forget. And just as suddenly, stop myself with just a simple answer: it doesn't matter now -- you're happier.

Between the gaps in deadlines and personal spaces, I don't always mope about these hopeless pursuits. I'm, shall we say, colder now; shutting down and shutting out anything that seems to stem from inside.

Oh, it would be easy to avoid feeling; not stop altogether, for that would be improbable and unproductive. Perhaps with time I will really become the Leo I truely am -- hearless killer when I want, a family animal when I am needed. We'll see.

==============================

Merry Christmas, everyone.



JKLM

Run

I went on a run today.

Plugged into my portable disco, the first few steps felt effortless. Pretty soon, the smooth blend of vinyl and electronica eased its way into my step, and nudged my still-lively steps into a synchronised prance. I had this faint recollection of myself sitting in a pub somewhere, my lungs panting slightly in the dank blend of machine and tobacco smoke and my eyes squinted against the incoming neon arrows. I was chillin' then, but that's exactly how I feel now -- on the run.

My music was an easy chillout mix from the Ministry of Sound. And how fluid this electronic whisper was, always giving in easily to the demanding rigidity of the run yet nudging my mind to disengage from the physical experience. Come hither to a universe of bubbled tranquility. Oh I was in my own world, breathing with and to this intimate electronic heartbeat. Step upon step, the fragile bubble of peace reinforced itself and reassured my mind of its continued existence. But all it takes is for a familiar sound, one that synapses with emergency, anxiety and danger -- any sound. The bubble is burst, and my peace is assasinated. Within a few scattered steps and panicky glances, I regain my form. Within those few scattered steps, my ears are captive to the hypnosis of my chillout mistress.

The music, she is like my guide.

As the run wears on, I become accustomed the enveloped tranquility and grow more aware of my body. I noticed that I run with a perculiar emphasis on my right side -- only a slightest hint of over-exerting on the master-limbs. Ah, the traitor is in the swinging napsack strap. The right strap appears to have a life of its own and clings to my right sleeve on each upswing of my arm. My left is expectedly indifferent.

The music, she is like my lover.

She is fickle, but she has my attention. She plays a tune to me just long enough for me to begin appreciating its exoticness; then she leads me on with a trailing rhythm, only to coax me into a different song, so that I would miss the one just past. She knows how to stir my blood with a simple and subtle change in tune and rhythm. She holds her pace just long enough for my breathing to catch on. She lets me work my body with one she throws to me. Then subtly, I am at her mercy, because I cannot move to another; she works me now, to a different beat. And she makes my heart want to race, with this subtle change.

With and for my music, I run faster.

Then, she leaves.

And I am where I started. Home.

I went for a run today.

I returned from a journey instead.


JKLM

Only A Feeling

Love is perhaps the greatest of all illusions.

It appears unnecessary at times, even unwanted. At others, it can bring a man or even a nation to its knees. Legions of tough-nailed soldiers have shed more blood than gained glory in the name of their enamored ideals, be it in a person, a hope, or an abstract concept of a preferred way of life.

It is no doubt good friends with its dark neighbours, and enhanced both ways by romanticism. The great vehicle on which love rides is a royal mare, untarnished even in the damndest weather or unforgiving terrain. And on this mystical creature, even the most hollow of ideals will glow with a commanding halo, shining a truthful light and generously handing out gifts of its easy-going relative: hope. Ah... the right words and images at the right time can indeed work "miracles". Of course, they fool the eyes and mind too. The heart? Isn't it always a willing participant in these affairs?

Well, love is more than a feeling. That is, my opinion of course. I may have been hurt and bruised through my cursed quest for a receipient of my over-romanticised emotions; it is with the same obvious fragility and mystical strength that envelopes love, that I approach life. If I cannot love a person, I shall try to love life. Well, that may include selling my soul to the next higher bidder, but then again, I'm not one for flings. I'd love each turn I take along this road as if it were the last in my journey, for truely, I can't be sure. And it is only through such pain-staking extents of giving that I have little to regret.

And yes, happiness will find its way. She always has found a way of visiting her children after her darker relatives have swept by. Kiss time and make up. No, I don't have such a luxury at this point. I'll probably just settle for kissing life to make up. For surely, she will return this romantic gesture.

===============================

It was a good day today at work. I think I could live this life; I could live my work.

No, I'm not running away, not like last time. Perhaps I'm just running back, and running along with what I ought to have been doing in the first place.

===============================

Happiness is always around the corner.



JKLM

Thread

I'm disoriented, and hanging in the balance again. The familiar invisible thread holding my sanity and capabilities in the balance. My entire being seemed to be compressed into a haphazard package, bulging through gaps and spilling through nearly-torn seams. All this, from work alone.

So many times this week, I thought that I might have erupted; or melted down in an slow sickly manner, oozing into a fetal puddle on my carpetted hell not daring to move, because it would neither change anything nor make things any better. How and when did it get so difficult? Why didn't I see it coming? Damn...

These days, I don't even have time to fulfill my proper scope of work. Not that I haven't been working hard, my problem lay in the fact that I was not working smart, as always, ending up as the general office lollipop -- the official sucker. Too compassionate to say no, yet too meek to insist on being unreasonable, the frustration was inevitable. I failed to read between the lines because I had assumed that whatever damages would have been easily contained. And now, I'm stuck hanging on a thread again, struggling with problems that are not entirely mine.

I guess it's better than hanging because of problems that ARE mine. But that time will come sooner than I think, if I carry on like this. Gotta get back in focus, get back of track. Get back to some engaging fun -- get back to me. Recover the parts that this overloaded sum is made up of.

And stop all this nonsense that still hijacks my quiet in-between times -- a silent creeping poisoning of the raw spots, made all the more perversed with its personal feel. The wounds are still open, the nerves are still raw. And I'm too tired to fend them off constantly.

Not now, not now, please... At least you're BOTH still happy.

My turn now. With or without you.

====================================

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
Where do you roam
Why do you cry
Oh please don't cry

Ignore my questions
Ignore my whys
Remember your fashion
Remember your sky

Oh hazel eye in the lazy sky
As you quietly trail
Along your binding line
T'is slow, but you still fly



JKLM

Would You?

Watching movies and reading books stir my imagination, always. The resurrection of these restless electrical symphonies between periods of stifling routine persuade me to believe what I see. Yes, I'm a romantic. And I like it this way.

I guess that's why I'll keep on moving; keep on dancing even after the music stops.

If I asked you to dance again, would you? Would you dance with me, for the music? Would you dance for me, with the music? In that common hedonistic realm, we were not strangers.

Not much regrets.

I know that I still love you. But it'll be alright. This is your way, and this is mine.

There's a place I've developed a longing for. As with my search for answers, there is hope in evntuality. Oh, but the want, it makes me itch so. My eyes have opened a little more with each step in the journey, and my heart has discovered beauty everywhere.

I'll get there, eventually. I just hope that I will find you when I'm there.

Sleep for the dreamer
Pain for the poet
Blood for the fighter
In us all, they riot



JKLM

The Happy Knight

Meet Sir Knight
With armour bright
Rivaled by only his charm.

Not even the night
Can smother his light
His valour – the bane of harm.

Steed noble right
Sword ready to smite,
Any enemy within an arm.

T’is Sir Knight
Our hero who fights
To keep us safe from harm.

For King and land
He'll make his stand
Like glass, his loyalty clear.

Oh, but for Queen or land?
His heart a dent
For both are just as dear.

Like a letter wrongly sent
A gap that cannot mend
His love was what he feared.

The day a royal man
Came calling: The King has sent!
He hadn't the slightest idea.

Years of experience,
Of service, of patience
Told him praise was within reach.

With noble defiance
He strode to Her indifference
And found his heart at his feet.

Oh such a vision
Her regal appearance,
Disaster if she should ever weep!

Beyond any infatuation
Sir Knight's devotion
Transacted in one fell sweep.

So changed a story
That started out happy
About Sir Knight, a shining example.

Who became all sappy
In the name of love's glory
Because he made a Queen his temple.

T'was a tragic folly
To steal the royal cherry,
To taste a desire from the royal table.

But he couldn't see

Beyond perceived duty

To love and protect all that was valuable

He honoured his Queen

She humoured his whim

And wound his noble pride around her finger.

Though with the King

She looked at him

Sir Knight, like she did no other.

But doom's dreaded sting

Came one spring,

When the Queen insisted stopping this fever.

Oh what a royal fling

What a dramatic ending

Sir Knight was still in love with her (royal highness)

So back to his armour

As a chivalrous dreamer

Sir Knight tried to forget about her.

JKLM

Wiser -- A Purposeful Fool

I now believe that I am a little wiser, and see a little more clearly than I had before.

I now understand that there isn't very much reason to be upset about; much less stay upset at that. Because you're happy now, and that's what matters more to me.

I now understand that we're alike, even though we made different choices. I now understand that your "mistakes" were nothing that I would not / have not done when I was in your position. Only I had the blessing of learning my lessons before you did.

I now understand why I loved you in such poetic fashion; why everything you did seemed beautiful to me, and why I still think so. Perhaps our only mistakes were our youthful vanity and naive notions of making the temporary last longer; both you and I took that step, though one before the other.

I now understand that there is still beauty in what we shared, regardless in what we don't now. I now understand what love is to me, and what it could be to you. I also understand why you don't understand what I write so very often. It's not your fault.

I now understand what it is to forgive, and what it is to get in touch with myself again. This was a favour you did for me through your actions, albeit unintentionally. It is appreciated nonetheless.

I now understand that I think too much -- not for me, but for you.

I now understand better the mystic beauty of the printed word, and the sensual illusions of my incourigible imagination. I am a romantic at the worst possible times, and remain so even when I am obviously playing the fool. You are right -- I am a fool for love, but at other times, I am merely a fool. I'm happy in the knowledge that I'll never be alone.

I now understand that I have an unhealthy obsession with searching for answers, and in the process defining myself - for it is not just the process that I'm attached to, it's the insatiable desire for an unachievable end that drives me. In this search, I see, I learn and I get by. Of course, this is what the romantic do: we love the unlovable and see beauty where there is none.

I now understand that it is futile to live for one, but quite dull to simply live with another. A constant game and mystery is essential. Nothing destroys the fragile illusions of naivity and hope like truth and indifference.

I now know that I can be and am happy. Well, the best I can be, anyway. Thank You.



JKLM
the madpoet

D.N.A

I swear that if Mother Nature had plans for evolution and created each and every creature with love and care, I'd probably belong to the bunch that were adopted. Either that or during the conception of my breed of people, Her perfect womb must have rejected me as some sort of mutant -- a defect in the great DNA of life.

You see, my main flaw is my temper; the apparent short-lived nature of it, rather. I could never stay seriously mad at people for long. I'd sooner absorb the grieviances between two people and fill the resultant gap with a sort of hippie-tree-hugger-whee happiness. Not that I'm a fool at disregarding and considering the potential faults that people have, or the complications of human relationships; I'm just not one to hold onto anger. If anything, anger would probably be a means to a suitable or desired end. Ironic, but rational, if you took a look at my mutated logic.

Anger would and should never serve as a means to an end; the end would hardly be desirable in the first place. If it should so be desirable, then anger is not justified, but will simply cease to exist because it would become a form other than simply "anger". I guess you could interpret it as a form of wisdom and even a skill. However, this thin line is one I have tried to tread too often, loosing myself in many ways and stumbling over myself more often than not.

Anyway, this is my defective survival instinct: I get over and I move on; not before I pay for the incident with a piece of my naivity or idealism. You see, the dust can get kicked up and will soon settle down -- this I'd surely make certain of. However, the lessons are kept (burned, perhaps) inside, and that's where the damage is done. Anger, if any, is suffered and not externalised. Cynicism and doubt which would surely surface is turned upon my own beliefs instead of on other people. Foolish? Perhaps...

While love can't keep us alive, it certainly can make a lot of things right. While to love is to risk getting hurt etc..., the former would soon loose its meaning without the latter. As Bon Jovi croons in Learning How To Fall, "... just like the poet needs the pain."

So many times, I have felt trapped in the cycle of my own flawed logic and reasoning. I know that it'll be a matter of time before I move on. I know that it'll be a matter of time before the inevitbale happens for her. I know that things will be alright, whatever it may entail.

I know that I would, for some reason, forgive her for all that she's done, in exchange for a fragment of what we had formerly. Heck, I'd forgive her for next to nothing at times. I know that my actions might stand for and achieve nothing, but there seems little that I can do otherwise. I know that I shouldn't go ahead and hurt myself. But I do anyway, because it's the logical thing to do, when you refuse to dishonour others.

What does the knight do when he gets upset with the politics and royal affairs?

Yeah, that's right. He goes to the tavern to drink, and maybe get into a fight or two with the local riff raffs. He'd sooner die than abuse his squire, best mates or princess.

Why do I work so hard now? Yeah, go figure.

I'm no knight or hero. I'm just trying to look for some form of truer love. Is it so bloody hard, seriously? I'm such a pathetic sucker for this notion that I always find myself playing the fool for it. Now all I have is an idea I can't get out of my head and a suggestion of what it may feel like.

Find another? Dare, I risk it all again? Dare I even risk waiting?

I'll just be saving up for it. Both Europe and New Zealand are pretty far away... But I'm sure it'll be worth it... It had always been worth it anyway.



JKLM

Good Bye

A good-bye. An end to a chapter; the unglamorous and unabridged end to the fairy tale that would never make it to the printers. Without lavish drama or emotionally-charged partings, the end came swift and firm. We both didn't want any of that. Not really.

There were no tears on my worn pillow. Its tattered corners, familiar smell and uneven surface spoke to me like an old friend, giving silent obliging council to my numb fingers. I marvelled at how much my pillow resembled the one on another bed, and its beating distant cousin -- my weary heart.

Hello, old friend.

Perhaps it is time I learnt to spend some time with myself again; not to shut out the world or to escape within. To be familiar with oneself again, and to be able to move on through life, whole again. I couldn't help but wonder about my tragic romanticism -- my eternal blind hope that we as wandering souls were like mysteries, and the answers to us were somewhere out there. Except this time, there was no enigma, no blurry clouded vision. If I were to have been charged as a fool for love, I would not possibly be one this time because it was real.

Sometimes you are a fool for love, and at others in love with a fool.

A cryptic warning; a scarlet passing. Another tear in the romantic fabric that shrouds my world. I am the fool. I am the mad rhyme. I was the lover. I was the crime.

Perhaps the inevitable tears will come some time. The proverbial storm lingers on my horizons, poised for my shores, full of melancholic intent. But I don't think so -- you are now happy, and I should weep for none but the stage death of my romantic character. You are now happier, and that's always worth giving and being happy for.

I will be happy. Eventually.



JKLM

Two Songs (Part 2)

Where'd You Go

(Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone)

She said, some days I feel like shit
Some days I wanna quit
And just be normal for a bit.
I don't understand why
you always have to be gone
I get along but the trips
Always feel so long, and

I find myself trying to stay by the phone
Cos your voice always helps me
When I feel so alone.
But I feel like an idiot
Working my day around the call
But when I pick up
I don't have much to say, so

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Home, you know the place you used to live?
Used to barbeque some burgers and ribs?
Used to have a little party every Halloween
With candy by the plow, but now
You only stop by every once in a while (shit)
I find myself just fillin' my time
With anything
To keep the thought of you from my mind
I'm doing fine
And I'm planning to keep it that way
You can call me if you find
That you have something to say
And I'll tell you

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
To be stuck here waiting
At times debating
Telling you that I've had it
With you and your career
Me and the rest of the family here, singing

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

I want you to know
That it's a little fucked up
That I'm stuck here waiting
No longer debating
Tired of sitting, hating
And making these excuses
For why you're not around
And feeling so useless

It seems one thing
Has been true all along
You don't really know
What you got till it's gone
I guess I've had it
With you and your career
When you come back
I won't be here
And you can sing it.

Where'd you go
I miss you so
Seems like it's been forever
Since you've been gone
Please come back home

Surreal

I don't recognise any of this... I don't know what all these mean anymore...

You have no fucking idea...



JKLM

Wanted

"Have you seen these hands?"
My imagination inquired
At a crowded bus stand
Wearily inspired

A pair of hands
That played the ivories
That took a stand
Amongst binary keys

A pair of hands
That drank all they were given
That could help to mend
The mind tired from livin'

A set of supple digits
Little miracle workers
At times they fidgit
At times they turn drummers

At work or at play
Their undeniable presence
Could turn my day
Into effervesence

Have you seen these hands?
They've gone away
Perhaps to another land
To play and to stay

There's no reward
For their return
Nor any award
Because...
Only they are balm
For this burn



JKLM

Time

It is time to...

Seldom do the choices become this clear, when what you want and what you have are in such different light that you cannot ignore what you see.

When it becomes clear that you can't avoid being yourself -- that what you do is essentially self-centered, no matter how alturistic the motivation or outcome. When the questions of trying otherwise have dried up, because you realise that what you're not getting (or in return for your efforts) is what makes you insecure, and how you react is always in answer to those insecurity. All you need to do is to overcome these obstacles, and a new chapter will unfold itself. But you don't have the courage to start.

When you realise that you're guilty, of all the above, and will carry on being guilty. That self-blame is but a reflection of self-pity, which does nothing to resolve the situation. That you have received unconditional love all the while, but never thought of giving it back or paying it forward. That, yes, you have taken it all for granted. That it will only take some effort to turn things around, but you're so tired...

When you think that you can put it off to be resolved another time, or another day... that things will be better. That you were cheating yourself all along when you believed in that. You were merely wasting borrowed time.

When you realise that you don't need what you have, but still want it. When you realise that you don't know how to let a beautiful thing go until it has been wrenched out of your hands.

When you realise that too much wisdom can be a sad thing.

When you realise that good advice is hard to take.

When you realise that it's time to choose. That it truely takes two hands to clap -- the same plane, opposite directions, and a willingness to meet. Ability? Well, ability can be learnt, so long as the willingness is still there.

When you realise, that it's really just so difficult to do something simple, like love someone more than yourself. When you start to appreciate how beautiful unconditional love really is.
When you know that tomorrow will still come, reagardless. That if you see the sun rise, you will surely feel the heat from beyond the clouds. What you didn't do yesterday will still remain unfinished.

When you know that it's time to be frank with yourself. That while you want to settle down emotionally, conditions may not allow for that. That you can't always have what you want, or get what you give... especially not when you don't fully understand what you want or were doing in the first place.

When you know that reading things over once is not enough. That the true meaning of things are no longer hidden behind layers of words, but behind layers of ourselves. Frequently, we don't understand other people simply because we can't see beyond ourselves. Try and try again, then it will be easier the next time.

When you realise that writing something like this will make some people unhappy. But these are just reflections of a truth, and that by being "happy" just won't solve anything. Once you accept the truth, it's not that hard to be happy either. You could be even happier, in fact... But you'll definitely see things and do things with greater clarity.

========================================

Thank you for the advice, my friends. I have a long way to go in learning how to handle these issues of the heart and soul. I am glad that I have your ears and advice to rely on. I am thankful that through your patience, I have learnt slowly not to brood, but to think. Our conversations have always been fruitful.
For now, these words and thoughts are wise... A condensation of the truths that I had been trying to discover and appreciate, though at many times, I too was running away. Perhaps it is time for me to learn a new lesson -- courage, to choose.

========================================



JKLM

Time

It is time to...

Seldom do the choices become this clear, when what you want and what you have are in such different light that you cannot ignore what you see.

When it becomes clear that you can't avoid being yourself -- that what you do is essentially self-centered, no matter how alturistic the motivation or outcome. When the questions of trying otherwise have dried up, because you realise that what you're not getting (or in return for your efforts) is what makes you insecure, and how you react is always in answer to those insecurity. All you need to do is to overcome these obstacles, and a new chapter will unfold itself. But you don't have the courage to start.

When you realise that you're guilty, of all the above, and will carry on being guilty. That self-blame is but a reflection of self-pity, which does nothing to resolve the situation. That you have received unconditional love all the while, but never thought of giving it back or paying it forward. That, yes, you have taken it all for granted.

When you think that you can put it off to be resolved another time, or another day... that things will be better. That you were cheating yourself all along when you believed in that. You were merely wasting borrowed time.

When you realise that you don't need what you have, but still want it. When you realise that you don't know how to let a beautiful thing go until it has been wrenched out of your hands.

When you realise that too much wisdom can be a sad thing.

When you realise that good advice is hard to take.

When you realise that it's time to choose. That it truely takes two hands to clap -- the same plane, opposite directions, and a willingness to meet. Ability? Well, ability can be learnt, so long as the willingness is still there.

When you realise, that it's really just so difficult to do something simple, like love someone more than yourself. When you start to appreciate how beautiful unconditional love really is.

When you know that tomorrow will still come, reagardless. That if you see the sun rise, you will surely feel the heat from beyond the clouds. What you didn't do yesterday will still remain unfinished.

When you know that it's time to be frank with yourself. That while you want to settle down emotionally, conditions may not allow for that. That you can't always have what you want, or get what you give... especially not when you don't fully understand what you want or were doing in the first place.

When you know that reading things over once is not enough. That the true meaning of things are no longer hidden behind layers of words, but behind layers of ourselves. Frequently, we don't understand other people simply because we can't see beyond ourselves. Try and try again, then it will be easier the next time.

========================================

Thank you for the advice, my friends. I have a long way to go in learning how to handle these issues of the heart and soul. I am glad that I have your ears and advice to rely on. I am thankful that through your patience, I have learnt slowly not to brood, but to think. Our conversations have always been fruitful.

For now, these words and thoughts are wise... A condensation of the truths that I had been trying to discover and appreciate, though at many times, I too was running away. Perhaps it is time for me to learn a new lesson -- courage, to choose.

I just wanna do the right thing.



JKLM

Crave

I crave for too much, too often.

I crave for knowledge, to know all that I want to know, more than what I need to know.

I crave for answers that are simple and clear, to stop the questions in my head.

I crave for affection, to feel appreciated, to know that it was worth the while.

I crave for love, to know that I can trust and that I'm good enough.

I crave to play, to flutter another heart for just a moment and to invoke a playful smile.

I crave for money, to know that I don't need to cause or be burdened by worry.

I crave for salvation, out of these damned waves of darkness.

I crave for rhyme and rhythm, because they move me like no other.

I crave for a kiss, a most personal reckless abandon.

I crave for pain, to be sure that I am still alive and feeling.

I crave for a you, to know that there is somewhere that is home.

I crave for an enigma, to seduce me and always slip through my fingers. But catch me at unsuspecting moments only to steal my breath away.

Sometimes, I crave for lonliness, the hug of darkness and familiarity of cold.

Sometimes, I crave for a crowd, a distant warmth and an witness to my quiet rebellion.

I crave for change, to help me appreciate the present and to make the temporary precious.

Most of all, I crave for peace. That which I have only met at fleeting moments laced wtih gold.

I crave for too much, too often.



JKLM

The Paradox of Selfless Love

This occurred to me mid-way through my plate of green and brown at lunch: the paradox of "selfless" love.

"Selfless" love is a sort of self-perpetuating concept riddled with loop-holes and contradictions. This judgement sounds a bit harsh, but let's see how it works out...

Oftentimes, we find ourselves in situations when we have to make choices based on insufficient data, speculations or recollentions. This task is already difficult enough as it is, without the complications of emotions or love. Usually, we have a few of the following choices: ideals (or an ideal option given unlimited or unrestricted capability), reality (or a practical approach that we are sure we can take) and me (or personal preferences which we are most certain of, as compared to the other uncertainties of our situation).

Sounds familiar? Definitely... How many times have you been asked to spread your time between several commitments and tasks, either by your own doing or otherwise (some of us are popular and can't help it), only to have to choose between turning up for one and not the other. How many times have you thought that it was perhaps ideal to spread your afternoon evenly throughout all the activities, perhaps an hour at each location at most. Alternatively, you could also just pick and choose the series of activities that allows you to pack your afternoon to the maximum (most practical). Or lastly, you could always just pick and choose to turn up at the activities that you might enjoy most or suits your current mood the best.

Which is the best choice? No body will ever know, until a choice is made. That's why Murphy's Law comes into full swing and shows you that whatever you thouht "best" was only "better" in comparison to how things eventually worked out.

Without going into detailed analysis the merits or demerits of each option, I think it's safe to say that we frequently see in each situation only two types of approach -- the ideal and the practical (which is itself assessed based largely on "me"). We would then often find it difficult to make decisions involving people because being overly ideal would make us "selfless" but unhappy, but being practical often seems more "selfish" and would make others unhappy.

If we're not willing to take the risk of either approach, then we could simply choose to wait things out and react according to how the situation develops. In the case of outings, we could always wait for people to nag us and let the more "urgent" matters show themselves. In other matters, we could in fact wait for events to develop and respond accordingly, to the new priorities that surface.

This way, you would be at the mercy of the events around you, but whatever the outcome, it would surely seem less "your fault". However, to be proactive would also entail its own risk and demand for much more responsibility. Apply this to a relationship and you would soon see how ridiculous "selfless" love is. On one hand, you'd have to be either very idealistic or egocentric to offer "selfless" love, and you'd still be unhappy. But given that satisfction is only temporary and short-sighted in "selfish" pursuits, we'd sooner just choose to ignore the signs and let thigs "flow". Still, at some point, a choice needs to be made between several unhappy options, and guess what, we'd still be unhappy no matter what our decision is.

So what's the point? Our fuzzy emotional logic comes down to two camps: the people who believe in "why not try", and those who believe that "why bother" is a better way. And of course, there are people who "think too much", as I do. We believe in both, contemplate both types of approaches and constantly try to strike a balance between them.

Such is the tragedy of people like us -- we will never be happy, but we are one step closer to peace. This elusive peace is something our peers jump in and out of, but never settling in it long enough to understand it. This peace is what we move towards, for keeps.



JKLM

My Boss; Creation

My boss plays sports like a man, relishing challenges like one-of-the-boy and drives forward with equally macho daring. She holds nothing back as far as sports in concerned -- it's "try to win" or not at all. Out in the field, she's into floorball, running, cycling and adventure racing. In the office, she looks very much like a lioness perched on her sandstone boulder in the Serengeti grasslands. However, her face peels into a girlish smile everytime I ask her questions about the existing system and protocols at work.

She's been patient with me over the last few days at work. I know that she can be demanding, or quickly boiling with assertiveness when needed. She gets things done. She also surprised me at lunch today.

Just as she was starting on her plate of rice and vegetable, each neatly piled on one section of the plate, she received a phonecall. Pausing her meal to answer the call, she had the phone in her left hand and her head (which reminds me of a mop) cocked towards her electronic servant's demands. Her right hand was gingerly picking for granules of mince meat, shredded carrot and peas. For that 10 minutes she was on the phone, she looked like an total recall of how she might have been as a child, fussing over her meals and refusing to eat her greens. She must have read my inquisitive stare, because after hanging up the phone, a child-like whisper-of-a-giggle betrayed her.

==============================

I am amazed by the fluke that are my hands, and the lottery gold-fingers of my first creations. My first customised shirt was somewhat successful. Heck, with stencils and spray paint, it can't really go wrong. Perhaps a next step would be the addition of colours and materials.

I can't tell what spurred me to experiment with fashion -- was it the inspiration of a fellow artist, or the pressure of poorly managed finances, or simply the desperation of surprising the mellowed? Have you wondered what life would have been like for me without your presence, your careless playfulness, your reckless energy and your lady-like tantrums? It would have been simply functional, all but inspirational. You were the inspiration for many of my works. You still are. I can only hope that I have been a ripple in the vastness of your fluid life, in return for all that evolution you have started within me.

In my cubicle, I stare often at your ring on my finger, and appreciate soundlessly the familiar foreigness it provides. So much like us, this ring -- its shape, its make, its material... Before long, I am dozing in a daydream of memories or fantasy. What will I dream of today? Perhaps of you again.

I've really gotta get some rest... I'm tired in so many ways. Tired after trying to be strong for so long. Tired because you are tired. Tired because I can only do so much. Tired because tomorrow will come, and sometimes I don't look forward to it.

"Sleep is a good respite," you once said...

Sleep... with whom does peace rest tonight? With you and those who need it more, I pray. I can wait.



JKLM

Irony Makes The World Go Round

"Passion make good servants and bad masters."

"Anger keeps dull men witty, but it keeps them poor."

"When you dont' have any money, the problem is food. When you have money, it's sex. When you have both, it's health. If everything is simply jake, you're frightened of death."

"Without passion, fairness and balance have a chance to prevail. Yet without passion, there would be little desire for fairness in the first place."

Why is the world wired this way? I don't know... because it has been working on far more occasions than it has failed. Because our simple minds have yet come to terms with the incredible dynamics of the life that we sought so eagerly to create, and yet are drowning in right now. Perhaps our brains would one day be able to figure things out, evolve and come up to the speed of our fickle desires. Why is it that we always want choices, but when given them, we'd frequently rather not choose? What's gonna irritate us even more is the unreliable nature of our memories -- we frequently remember only those bad times when we were faced with tricky cirucumstances or tough choices. There were tonnes of other simple decisions, but we just don't remember them, for some reason.

Ah well, faced with the inevitability of this life we're in, I guess we'll just have to play the cards we've been dealt, as best as we can... Up till the time we get to shuffle and deal, I guess, it's not really possible that we have our cake and eat it. Not physically, anyway.


JKLM

The Science Behind Murphy's Law

That's my new muse -- another book. This time, it's about the quirkiness of life. You know, situations like when your nose starts to itch after your hands are tied. Or why a watched pot never boils. In a way, you could see it as someone's attempt at demystifying all those old wives' tales and cliches that people throw around effortlessly about the way things can turn out in life.

As with all books and (intelligent) fine products of the print industry, these humourous explanations got me thinking. There seems to be a logical explanation for just about everything that happens. Talk about thinking too much... This book just puts an interesting spin on just about everything that pertains to our perceptions -- it seems like our minds are the cause of all this inconvenience in our lives.

Bad timing, things happening too quickly or slowly, making the same mistakes again and again, bad luck... everything can be traced back to the brain in some way. From the sound of it, social life seems to have developed at such a neck-breaking pace over the last millenia that our evolved brain is having trouble keeping up. Our ancestorial reflexes and mental process 'loops' are still prepared for a life of jungle life and wandering in loin cloth.

Still, there's plenty in this book that could pass as being entertaining. Heck, I'm actually thankful that our brains aren't developed to such capacity that we couldn't be surprised by these things anymore. Life would indeed be very boring after that, and the concept of surprise may well just disappear. You could then say that we know that some things are beautiful simply because there are so many other imperfections around.

Some little notes that I've picked up after the first two chapters:

• What we see depends on our expectation, and expectations are depended on memory. We see to a degree what we want to. (With respects to optical illusions, but applicable to many other areas too)
• Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory. (With respects to our enduring memory of bad versus good experiences and how they are formed. Ah, ignorance is indeed bliss)
• Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blow out the candle and fans the bonfire. (With respects to the imperfect recall ability of the average brain, and how memories tend to be exaggerated over time)

On a separate note, I guess I've lightened up on my mood about where and how we are. It's sufficient to say that we are both important to one another, though perhaps to varying degrees. Attachment (or if you prefer possession), as with showing appreciation, is a one of the many paradoxes that we have to learn to handle -- too much or too little of either ain't good. We both deserve to be happy. Meeting in the middle can indeed be tricky sometimes, especially since we don't already start on the same platform.

I've become clear of the ghosts that haunt me (then and still now, occasionally); the exact things that caused me such pain on that faithful night. It was an unfortunate buildup, really, how all the frustrations rolled up into a giant bundle and exploded in my face in spite of the good intentions. I was just looking for some reassurance, while you were looking for some release. What seemed so wrong then was perhaps just a reckless placement of priorities coupled with bad timing.

As we have said before -- let's just put these things behind us and move on (refer to Quote 2, haha). But please, don't do that again; not because you can't have fun, but because it scares everyone who cares about you. Though we didn't celebrate on that night as I hoped, I guess we could always wait... Besides, it's always a celebration when we're out enjoying ourselves.

Looking forward to the next time.

JKLM

If my day were a TV commercial, it'd probably look something like this:

====================================
Entry Scene: The Bedroom
(that's me) Mornin'!
"mmm... mornin'"

Scene 1: The Food Place
".... (about this week's schedule)"
Cool... looking forward to it.
"Great, let's do lunch. I think we still have time."
Erm... why don't you pick something for me?
"Orange-mango, please."
Good choice!

Scene 2: Back Home
"... (about a change in the schedule"
... *runs screaming away like a spoilt brat*
"..."

Scene 3: Along The Road
Shall we take the long or short way?
"Let's take this run all the way."
"Wanna see Scruffy?"

Scene 4: Back Home
(Feeling fed up)
"Sigh..."
(Throws huge emotional tantrum) *Dude! Relax, will you*
"..."

Closing Scene: The Front Door
Don't worry about Wednesday and Thursday. It'll be alright.
"Yeah, I just don't like staying out too late, cos it makes me tired."
Yeah, you have a good session today. Watch those bruises!
"Sure thing. See you later."

Captions:
Gosh, i'm so sorry you had to go through all that, baby. What is wrong with me !? Why do you put up with me !? Haha... It's little wonder that I love you.
============================================



JKLM

Old Habits Die Hard

Bar None. Home to yappie runaways and the best live band I've had the pleasure of enjoying in years -- Jive Talkin'. Just last night, I had the company of two intoxicating ladies, two charming drinks and a throng of people who danced like they really needed it. Plenty of action, plenty of fun, plenty of dance; all impromptu, of course. What started out as a cuppa coffee at about 11pm quickly progressed (in unison) to a "now I feel like dancing" confession. Best snap decision yet, from 3 young people with some time on our hands.

I could have sworn that I looked positively juvenille next to these two fine products of the corperate world -- cut in black, sharp as the night. Still, once the electric beats plundered the dance floor after the band's first set, my feet were alive. Two drinks and two frustrating days later, the devil had a new place to play.

I was told that women like men who could dance. And then I was told that I was gorgeous. Where'd I learn to move like that? Nowhere, really. Because it's the sensual people around me that guide my feet.

Amusing flattery. The rapture of this nocturnal escape is undeniable. I'm addicted to moving, and the company just makes the deal sweeter. Flirting in the dark, dreaming under the strobe light, it's easy to see why and how we could just surrender ourselves to our next desire. I was the dreamer once again, dancing along a river of spirits and pleasure.

No matter how close I get, it's never close enough. No matter how much my hands roam, I still wish they were exploring you instead. No matter how large the crowd, I'm still on my island of ecstasy. When I feel hot, I begin to wish that I could just tear into the dank air unihibited, and be drenched in your rapture. My tormented hands still crave for the creative destruction that we shared. No matter how my feet flash and flutter under my body, I was still unsatisfied.

Perfection comes only in temporary flashes. It's here, now and it's gone. Everybody wants it, but no one is prepared to be it. Nobody really wants to dance with someone who can dance -- there's just not enough room. They're just moving between hugs, flirty dirty dances and clumsy complements. And by the end of the night, maybe you'll find your release -- whether it is in the bosom of a stranger who buys you drinks, the pulsing hips of another who passes you just in time, or in a new friend who could be your next meal.

Still, I always wish that it was you there. No one else would do. But you were in another's arms, for now.

===============================

I'm sure the dance would feel completely different on the vineyard.

What am I looking for? For hope and a sign that true love does exist, no matter how disguised it appears, and how tough life is.

Life has been an abusive bitch to you. I wish that you never had to pay for these debts, or that we could help you out in more ways than we already are now.



JKLM

Play It Like You Mean It

Glistening and thick
A beast so sleek
Purrs unabashed
But eyes me in a dare

Stroke me
Scratch me
Make me screech
It's all for you cos you want it

Slam me
Tickle me
Make me sing
With your fingers, my king

Weighted and smooth
She croons my groove
At once my dark secrets
Begin bleeding out my fingertips

She feels harmless
She accepts my carrasses
Urging me to squeeze tight
Willing my hand to bight

For thirty savage seconds
We were one
Burning like a sun
In our own consmic legend

My fingers melted
Her resistance yielded
In a swirling mercury pool
We embraced like fools

In parting, I promise
I would not miss
My next chance
For our next dance
For her electric sting
Her whine, her ring.


JKLM

Simple Story of 4 Seasons, A Queen and A King

This is a simple story. A story about how the 4 seasons began; a Queen and a King who ruled over two different lands of eternal Spring and Winter, respectively. I am the traveller, the story-teller who has had the immense pleasure of knowing them both. Here is their story.

In the land of eternal Spring, a Queen reigns proud and strong. She is the essence of Spring, the embodiment of all life. Her name means exactly that: Full of Life. In her warming presence, each gentle step melts away the night's chill, renewing life in her wake. Her kindness and her giving nature embraces all forms of life, great and small. No part is unimportant in her eyes, no one should ever be left out of her rejuvinating reign. Even the most stubborn hermits eventually yield to her sunshine. Her presence is celebrated by all civilisation, and her coming always herald new life and happiness in all her subjects' minds.

To the White King we now go. He reigned upon his throne of ice within his kingdom of white. Few had ever been allowed to have, much less survive, an audience with this monarch. Legends foretell of the cold bitter months in his kingdom, where black and white ruled side by side. By day, the King's castle was a blinding, collosal sculpture of crystal -- unequalled throughout the kingdom for its natural beauty and strength. The snow always covered up the injustices of the night, renewing life upon a blanket of white. By night, the fotress loomed like a dark sword across its kingdom of moonlight silver snow. Nightly snow always sought out disloyal subjects, freezing them into beautiful but deadly sculptures. The king was always dressed in magnificent white fur coats, though many say that he does so only to hide his black heart. The unatural snow that ruled this kingdom were once said to be his tears, a tough love that hardens his subjects and carves out some of the most beautiful natural terrain ever known. A trying place, indeed, but only if you're afraid of the cold, for beauty was always said to be the king's first love.

And did the King and Queen meet? Surely, they must have, for both kingdoms were vast and undeniable. Ancient folk-lore rumoured of wars once fought between these two monarchs, each wanting to claim the other kingdom for their own, in the name of their envisioned ideals. Though both King and Queen never spoke of the truth behind these rumours, I sensed from them both a hidden truth and sadness. This was expected, for this war between kingdoms had existed for a long time. However, it was not until I saw for myself these rumoured battlefields that I understood why.

At the boundary of the two kingdoms lay the source of true beauty. This "war" which the ancient story tellers spoke of was no more than the magical meeting between the unique landscapes of the two kingdoms. The soldiers of Spring and Winter were no more than the liquid gold of sun rays and the cooling waves of gentle snow flakes. The blood that flowed forth from the clashes was life-giving nectar -- water. Upon these fields lay a greater diversity of life and landscape than could never be found in either kingdom alone.

Where the Spring Queen's warm smile met the cool charm of the White King, her liquid fire lighted the spring fields, yielding a charging season of heat and sweetness. This season was Summer. This season was beautiful, for it was where the Queen's power shone to its fullest potential. Her warm steps and carrass ceased to merely urge life forward, but commanded life to wake and listen to her. With each wave, her hand sent forth the glorious birds of prey and bustling evergreen vegetation to colonise all that was hers, and to protect her fragile Spring fields. Summer was a land of brilliance, passion and ambition. The Queen was happy with Summer.

The White King sat stubbornly in his Winter kingdom, and sought to match the Queen's Summer. With measured grace and dignity, he sent forth his warriors in relentless waves, seeking to weaken the Summer heat. It seemed for a while that the sun would soon be drained of its heat as each cold wave crashed upon its shores of evergreen trees. The animals of Summer retreated from these waves, but in their place came others -- those who were able to adapt to the winds and the cold. However, the White King still seemed to be quickly gaining ground. The heat and dampness of Summer mellowed, combined with the dryness of the Winter winds set the forests ablaze in a slow, brilliant nova of orange, copper and brown. Young trees became yellow in the warmth, while their elders coughed and shook their coper crowns in the mild weather. Autumn was born, in all its metallic splendor. The White King was pleased with Autumn, because it was colder than Summer.

It seemed that the ancient rumours had been hiding something else. My youthful and adventurous eye told me that there was probably another reason that the White King loved Autumn -- why he had not sought to create a land of "Summer" for himself. The King loved Autumn because he loved the Queen, and sought only to balance her natural beauty with his cold alchemy. It was during preparations for "war", the King had commanded his subjects that the essence of his kingdom was not cold and bitterness, but the essential balance to the heat of life. With that in mind, he told his most trusted generals: "Go forth, to calm the heat of Summer and cool its inhabitants, so that they might understand the beauties of our land. Show them that they can still burn without fire, shine without light and be alive without hot passion."

Autumn was born of both kingdoms. And Autumn was beautiful.

===========================

I know a girl. She is fast becoming a woman, and eventually a queen. She is beautiful, and her name tells all about her: Full of Life. She is free and she is beautiful. She bears upon all like the sun -- hot, glowing with passion and charming as Spring. Everyone smiles in her warmth. Her relentless and fun-loving nature makes her irresistible. I love her.

I am like Winter to this girl -- colder, harder and darker. I shine without the sun, for my snow is both delicate and hard. My seasonal processes are like ice, hard and transparent. Snow erases the tracks and shapes the ice. Storms and rain cover all that is ugly and unclean. But frequently, the scars remain and my heart is frostbitten.

Where we meet, it is Summer. Where we linger, it is Autumn. Back and forth we flow. Where we meet, everything should be beautiful. But because we travel, I sometimes find myself uncomfortable in her Spring showers and heat, longing for the clarity of ice. And she too, finds my palace too solid, too unforgiving, too cold to the touch. But it's these very reasons that we are different. These are the seasons we lived in. These were the reasons we loved the seasons.

These are the reasons why we can and also should be happy. Seated in our own thrones, it will be hard to understand why the other could not move to change. When we truely meet, and shed our crowns, we will see that we are the same, that we belonged with the seasons.

This story is dedicated to her, and to us. And to the enduring happiness that we shared and will continue to share.

: )



JKLM

Don't Stop Dancing

At times life is wicked
And I just can't see the light
A silver lining sometimes just isn't enough
To make some wrong seem right

Whatever life brings
I've been through everything
And now I'm on my knees

But I know I must go on
Although I've heard I must be strong
Because inside I know
That many feel this way

Children, don't stop dancing
Believe, you can fly
Away
Away

I've got to get away; I need a break. The past few months have been stumbling forward at an uncomfortable pace. I can't hardly keep up. A bad mix of insomnia, tears, words, alcohol, loss of appetite, anxiety and damned insecurities have mixed me up like a banana in a blender. Sometimes I wonder if I've had a chance at all during this tricky transition period. I messing up inside, big time. It's no wonder I'm shrinking. Kiat, you silly boy... You damned fool. My belief in chivalry and all the honourable traditional values have led me to nothing but heartbreak... Yet I'm stubbornly holding onto them, hoping that they would withstand the relentless waves of time and change. I find that I can't move; I don't know how to.

I'm sorry to have caused you such worry and compounded your frustrations earlier. You were right all along. I think too much, regardless of need, time and place. And it doesn't help now that there are but a few stabilising factors left in my life visa vis before graduation. But your infectious confidence tells me that we will have our time, and that we will find one another again. I'm trying my very best. For you.

At times life's unfair
And you know it's plain to see
You got to know that I'm just a dot in this world
Have you forgot about me?

Whatever life brings
I've been through everthing
And now I'm on my knees

But I know I must go on
Although I've heard I must be strong
Because inside I know
That many feel this way

Children, don't stop dancing
Believe, you can fly
Away
Away

Am I hiding in the shadows?
Forget the pain and
Forget the sorrow

Am I hiding in the shadows?
Forget the pain and
Forget the sorrow

But I know I must go on
Although I've heard that I must go on
Because inside I know
That many feel this way

Children, don't stop dancing
Believe, you can fly
Away
Away

~ "Don't Stop Dancing" by Creed.

PS: This isn't an unhappy entry. I'm just telling it as it is. Give me some time, and I'll find another more well-adjusted and humorous way to look at the problem.

JKLM

We Are One

A year ago, there were a puzzle of activities that paved the way from me to you.

In the lonely darkness of a room, your digital salvation whispered a tune of home while you dreamt, unknown of the poetic eye that fed upon this magic. And yet, when you awoke, a space beside and a space within you had opened up for me. Afraid that I was too monstrous for your kindness, I crept up beside you; your trusting nature whisper a tune -- a tune that sounded so much like home.

In the electrical storm and unheard thunder of a many gathered youthful hearts, you held my hand and stole my breath. Twice. And my heart still hungers for that moment when we lingered upon our racing heartbeats -- at the eye of the storm. Every touch of your ivory hands, every twitch of your purposeful instruments, still sends a little current through my weathered heart.

Welcome to my world. Won't you come on in.

As time flew, so we grew -- together and discovered a chemistry that books were written on. So sure were we, that nothing could be more lovely, or simply more worthy. All the times in the past that you were so undeservingly wronged, I had offered and threatened to put it right. So blind was my heroism, because your approving giggles always made me feel justified.

It's not much different now; now that we are one year happier. One year more learned about the other person and ourself. Perhaps this is how we will finally become the other half. Old theories and chatter have made it a cliche, but since nothing would be a cliche when it's happening to you... I'd wait for that moment. Again, our bond is still what some books are made out of -- perhaps more of the self-help type these days ; )

Romance? Yup, it's still there. I still wanna spoil you, in spite of my better judgement. I still rhyme for you. Each day, I still choose to love you. You still shower me with your acceptance and care. You still look at me with a cheerful (anymore-and-you-would-be-staring) intensity.

Trust? A fragile seed within each of us. Now it's truely begun to grow. Only now, we just need to give it time and a nuturing environment.

A year. A step forward, together.
A year happier.
A year wiser.
A year more fearful to loose what we have.

A beginning, to many greater things.

Meet you at the next stop, baby ; ) Happy Anniversary.


JKLM

Beauty

"Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time." ~ Albert Camus.

I felt like a king just yesterday, at the hair salon. The service staff were well-trained, and their hands were blessed little workers of miracles. From the preparatory hair wash, to the cutting, styling and eventual presentation of their work of art, not a moment passed when I didn't feel honoured and at the same time humbled by these artists.

What more, the glorious work of art that is your hair?

Such subtly and maturity in the choice of colours. Layers of rich darkness hiding their precious metallic core like dark lace over a bronze bust. The somber shine of your crown glistened like freshly melted dark chocolate, crumbling tastefully to yield the youthful scatter of bronze, orange and blonde. Behind this dark curtain, waves of old gold and unrefined silver seemed to flow forth from the very root of the fount. For a moment, it seemed like the earth was yielding forth these treasures that refused to remain hidden any longer; entire families of precious metals bubbled and flowed forth from deep within these dark vaults. Oh, the flow of colours quite nearly made me tear.

I guess I couldn't just tell you all these things while you were wrapped up in that synthetic salon spacesuit, still unsure of how you should feel about this parade you were handed. I'm sure that even if I could, it wouldn't have been appropriate. That's why I came up with that crap about the treasure map, islands rising from the dark seas and the legendary bounties that the sea horded.

"Too much pirates for you..."
Perhaps... perhaps...

I guess you'd still change your mind keeping that hair anyway : )



JKLM

Panacea

I must have been a bad boy today, because I'm sick... Down with a fever, aching joints and swollen tonsils. Yup, even swallowing can be such a chore. Now I'm beginning to know how you feel, what more with your sensitive throat.

Then again, I must have done something good too because I was given a healthy dose (make that two) of infectious happiness from two young kids at my Grandma's birthday dinner. My they have grown... And just as I suspected, I could barely keep up with their nuclear-powered appetite for fun. After 15 minutes of play, pretend and kissing (gosh, these kids are affectionate), the fever was nowhere in sight. In fact, it wasn't until I had reached home and curled up on my bed that I felt the fever return. It seemed as if rivers of Sahara sand were grinding their way through my limbs, setting each join ablaze with a coarse, rumbling heat.

Could you imagine living with these... these... kids? Hahaha... I'm sure it'd turn out to be a different story by then. But, oh for the sweet and careless abandon of a 6 year old. Her easy-going unadultered trust and hunger for fun simply sweeps aside all things in her path (and mine, literally). How many times have you had the pleasure of a bubbly 6-year old girl come diving into your arms, shortly scrambling up your half-buckled knees to seal her vice-like grip on your waitst? Haha... never mind that she was wearing a skirt. She seemed as if she could be wearing nothing for she cared. Several times, I had to remind myself not to be as restricted as I would normally be with "grown-ups" when I played with her. So genuine, so fraglie, yet so fiercely alive. Her youth infected me, and for a while, I was in love with her.

I dread the day she would get hurt. Musing to my brother in the car, I remarked: "give her a few more years and she wouldn't even come near me." Haha... how true. We all grow up, just that some of us refuse to grow old.

The boy was a slightly different story, though. He longed for a playmate, but was already beginning to feel inadequate around his female peer. However this inhibition was short-lived -- because once this crazy cousin of theirs began running around like a madman, arms waving in the air, he was joining in the fun like a rugby scrum-head. Pretty soon, our two cheeky pumpkins were slapping one another's bottoms and trying to peep down one another's shirt. Bad mistake.... cos before I knew it, they were tugging at my polo t-shirt too. Kids....

I guess I'll have two more reasons to keep the faith in my extended family -- these kids, and their parents. Watching them change and grow year after year at these gatherings, I found myself lost for words for fool-proof child upbringing solutions and mantras. Truth be told, I hated the quick temperedness of my parent's generation, and as a result I swore never to follow in their footsteps. However, I realise that children are a tough nut to crack without some show of authority from the adults. Not that we need to oppress them, but we need to show them who's in charge, and show them who they can trust. Heck, eventually they're gonna look back and say something like, "I wanna be just like that (I hope)."

All in all, I had a fantastic dinner because of the kids. It's nice to know that there are people you can really talk and have fun with in your extended family. The rest of the adults? Haha... They're a different story. Not today; I'm not in a PR mood today.

---------------------------------------------------

Caught the NDP pre-parade festivities on TV today. I loved it! All 15 minutes of all I watched from behind slitty eyes while curled up on the TV couch. Never mind the fact that the screen was somewhat horizontal and I wasn't feeling too good. :)

This year's parade and festivities simply overwhelmed Kallang, and for the first time as an audience, I envy the people on-site now. How I wish I could be there to be immersed and swept away in this wave of optimism and patriotism. So much effort, such beautiful smiles and emotions -- this is truely what a national day is about.

I was just in time to catch a brass band's parade opening performance. FANTASTIC!

The coordination, the smiles, the trust in their conductor, the magic of their suspended confidence... All stirred up into a melting-pot of loud jubilant music. I swear I almost cried. As I watched a row of drum-sticks rain down their commanding strokes on those white skins in unison, I was filled with a deep admiration and appreciation for their efforts. I wanted to clap for their effort, to applaude their beautiful performance. Ah... and I remember that you were once in such a position. What were those years like?

-------------------------------------------------------

As I type down the last bits of my thoughts for the evening, I anticipate the woody slumber I will soon undertake with the help of a little white pill. I hope that I get better tomorrow. There's tonnes of things waiting for us to do.


JKLM

Reply

"Love is a choice you make from moment to moment." ~ Babara De Angelis.

And so, to your spritely step I shall try to follow. Because I am beginning to understand what free-spirited soul yearns for, I will gladly not be me so that you can be you. These changes are mine to undertake, for now. These other burdens are also mine to bear (and eventually shed) for now.

I ask but one little thing: that you try to understand the fine line between leading a care-free and eventful life and one that is somewhat reckless lies simply in an adequate amount of thinking -- be sensitive to the things around you, because it is still possible to lead the lifestyle you so love and be adequately mindful of other things at the same time. You don't always have to loose one to gain another.

With me, you'll never need to loose in order to gain, again.

Because, "from day 1..."



Always Yours,

JKLM

It's All About You

An hour and a half -- that's how long it took for me to travel home today. I woke up on the whining train to the piercing yellowed lights of the train cabin, feeling a slight headache coming on. Was it my sleeping posture, or was it simply these words struggling to form inside my head? Try as I might, I just couldn't get back to sleep. Counting the stations with my eyes closed, a truth came thumping upon my forehead.

Neither my eyes nor my imagination have mercy on me these days. I still see things in the same extravagent fantasy I used to. Little nuggets of our everyday life still lay scattered around me, calling out to me to pick them up. How could I resist?

For example, the strangest and most attractive parts of women's bodies showed themselves to me today. The back of a woman's knee can whet the appetite like the succulent silky folds of a ripe oyster's muscle. The locks of another roar brown and walnut gold in cascading nectar falls, tickling playfully her pearl-smooth shoulders, teasing and whispering a siren song of their trails of hot naked skin.

How does one hide from such incredible music that flows through the soul? For in each picture-perfect sighting, I see a fragment of you. But it is also through this music, that an invisible conductor waves his demanding baton to signal the descent into a somber chorus.

Yes, things have changed -- more accurately, the conditions have changed. All the little things point to suggest this. While I had successfully built my world all around you over the past year, I can no longer do so nor expect that you do so in return. To be truthful, I had assumed that a year was long enough to know and understand you; nothing reveals like patience and time combined. So this is also you.

But we are like flowers blossoming, merely opening up to become more truely what we really are. I wanted to show and accept you into the center of my life, but it now seems so selfish and impossible. Because you always had your life to live, and I should be satisfied that I am a part of it, not the center. Oh, but the craving to belong and feel so special again...

So fly, butterfly. Within your wings lie your field of blossoming petals, and in your nectar flutter-trail this flower will try once again to open up and shine. The old magic is still there, hidden within the shifting sands of our shared time. Perhaps one day we'll rediscover the fascination for one another that haunted our days and nights not so long ago. But for now, grow we must. And endure I will.

I'm stil all about you. Are you, too?

More Than Words

I will be twenty-four years old soon. This year, there's an extra reason to celebrate; everyday.

We will be a year happier soon. This time, it's the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

You've made me so very happy today, with everything simple again. You've also allowed me to learn more about you, and believed that we could communicate and work things out. On hind sight, it seemed like all we really needed was time. Time to do what we wanted, time to be with ourselves and time to want to be with each other. You needed time to explore your interests and your new-found personality. I needed time to understand how to better manage my emotions and expectations. Our various commitments did teach us some a thing or two, but it also made the moments we shared today all the more precious. Those moments were so much more intense and quirky than what it used to be.

I love you. I love us. We'll get there, together.


JKLM

Two Songs

This song made me cry; a hollow pain burning its way down my cheeks amidst the casual ignorance of a public bus. Nobody knew, nobody would have known from the look on my face.


You think your days are uneventful
And no one ever thinks about you
She goes her own way
She goes her own way

You think your days are ordinary
And no one ever thinks about you
But we're all the same
And she can hardly breathe without you

She says she has no time
For you now
She says she has no time

You think about the lonely people
Or think about the day she found you
Or lie to yourself
And see it all dissolve around you

She says she has no time
For you now
She says she has no time
For you now
She says she has no time

Lonely people
Don't go downwards
And my heart opens
Up to you

When she says she has no time
For you now
She says she has no time
For you now
She says she has no time

~~ by Keane

===============================================

This song just made me sit up and listen. Maybe there is hope yet. Something from Maroon 5


After school, walking home
Fresh dirt under my fingernails
I can smell hot asphalt
Come screech to a halt to let me pass

And I can't remember what
Life was through photographs
And try to recreate images
Life gives us from the past

Sometimes it's a sad song
But I cannot forget
Refuse to regret
So glad I met you
Take my breath away
Make everyday
With all of the pain that i've gone through

And mama I've been crying
Cos things ain't how they used to be
She said, the battle is almost won
And we're only seven miles from the sun

Moving on down my street
See people I won't ever meet
I think of her, take a breath
Feel the beat in the rhythm of my step

Sometimes it's a sad song
But I cannot forget
Refuse to regret
So glad I met you
Take my breath away
Make everyday
With all of the pain that i've gone through

And mama I've been crying
Cos things ain't how they used to be
She said, the battle is almost won
And we're only seven miles from the sun

Rhythm of her conversation
The perfection of her creation
The sex she slipped into my coffee
The way she felt when she first saw me

Hate to love and love to hate her
Like a broken record player
Back and forth and here and on
And on and on and on and on

I cannot forget
Refuse to regret
So glad I met you
Take my breath away
Make everydayWith all of the pain that i've gone through

And mama I've been crying
Cos things ain't how they used to be
She said, the battle is almost won
And we're only seven miles from the sun

===========================================

While some people feel that I think too much, just as many people simply don't think enough.

I've made you a promise to grow with you.

I guess I've been trying to keep an eye out for us in the things we do. Sometimes it helps, but at other times it hinders because I become too cautious to make decisions. I had become so worried that I'd loose you to your work, and that we could simply come crumbling down.

That's the reason why I had not dived into mine. Because I used to be just like that, and had lost several things dear to me.

You mean more to me than I could hope to tell you. "That we communicate," is all I asked for. It too, was what we agreed on.

Both you and I would say: "I love you." Let us make it truely happen.



JKLM

My Fellow Idealist

To my fellow idealist,

It's been a while since I laid down these words for you and to you. In this exclusive digital world, which I have found recently fascinating, you can read my words and almost hear my voice; addressed to you and only for you, regardless of the time or place. Isn't it wonderful, that we can now easily make something "timeless".

So advanced our race has become, and yet so cold, the touch of our souls are upon the society.

At work, I find people craving for good conversation all the time. Regardless of the amount of time they actually spend at the shop front, they leave trails of longing for interaction and talk. Young adults carelessly spew thoughts and words when prompted by a listening ear. Young 'uns peep and preen for a hint of un-adult-erated fun, hoping that these guys aren't truely as old as they look. Brought together by a common interest, yet stranded by their different preferences. Gaps, ravines and bridges have been thrown up all over the climbing gym. Sometimes, 'leave-me-alone' signals dangle carelessly from a member like the ends of a frayed rope. At other times, the cheers and laughter of those who are still young enough to forget themselves fight with the radio for aural supremacy, giving the gym a raw thunder -- the loud youthful heartbeat of fun.

On my way home, I helped an old lady find her way home. My first encounter with her was at the interchange, while I was in the queue for my bus. She had first approached a lady 2 places behind me to enquire about the route of the bus which we were waiting for. Just as abruptly as she had begun her inquiry, she was shoved off with a torrent of 'I don't know's and 'why don't you ask the guy behind's. In less than 30 seconds, their conversation was ended. Their souls met, but never touched. One of them suddenly looked so very tired.

Feeling rejected more than helpless, she was just about to wander off in search of both the way home (and some warmth, perhaps) when the lady directly behind me asked her where she inteded to go. 'Jalan Bahar,' was her reply. Though helpful, the lady was unable to offer more than a suggestion to 'look for another bus there.'

Watching the drama unfold over my shoulder, I hated myself for being a spectator. I knew where the bus I was about to board was going, but I had not spoken up. Twice over, I could have easily resolved the old lady's predicament, but I had chosen instead to analyse the futility of another lady's fatigue. It looked like both our consciences would have some nagging coming our way for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until I had boarded the bus that the old lady came tramping up with the rest of the passengers. Something wasn't right, I thought to myself. Unless she had gotten her destination wrong, she wouldn't have been on the right bus. With a crowded bus and a flexing conscience, I felt little room for more than a feeling of awkwardness as I sought to while away the rest of the bus journey by catching the moving lights from the bus window.

By the time the crowd cleared and I was about to alight, I could take little more of my suffocating pride -- the old lady was still glancing left and right from her seat, perched like a watchtower at the back to the bus. And so I approached her to ask her for where she was going. It turned out that she was on the wrong bus and she was riding in the wrong part of the area. Eventually, I accompanied her off the bus, flagged a cab and sent her home.

Beyond a nominal cab fee, the encounter too a toll on my soul. In these touch-and-go journey with the old lady, I had come to face several emotions -- guilt, worry (for her safety), relief and a quickly returning sadness. This realisation made me sad: I sure took my time to resolve the old lady's predicament. Had she not boarded the bus like she did, might she have made it home at all? Furthermore, will my delayed, guilt-driven idealism be too little too late should the situation have been dire?

Perhaps I don't fit the description of an idealist well. Tonight, I have come to understand that my 'idealism' is still very much entrenched within the cloud kingdom of coffee-losophy. I still can't bring myself to mean all that I want to say. And that makes me sad because, well, this shouldn't be so.

With renewed determination to exercise my individual right to engage other people, I am opening up my soul to search for and touch another. This life needn't be about me. This life needn't be warm.

================================

I am now undertaking a major project to understand and to consolidate my beliefs. Fashioned after the meditations of French philosopher Renee Descartes, I intend to explore my foundations, and attempt to build the start to the rest of a good life. Impossible? Not quite... though surely the task would be huge and complex. I am however confident that I will succeed, one way or another.

My motivation for this undertaking is not to change my life or in any way re-establish myself from scratch. Rather, I hope simply that the completion of this project would enable me to be a good father, a good husband and most of all a beautiful person. After all, it was through life that I was born and shaped, it will therefore be life that I want to know and share. This undertaking is also in part for you, because it is you that I want to keep growing with, and loving more than anything else.


JKLM

I Still Rhyme For You

Through hourglass neck
A torrent of specks,
We flowed with tides of gold

Within this pass
Of precious glass
From ashes rose two souls

Our feet in sand
Hearts in our hands
Each burning autumn twilight

Your lovely rapture
Your soul matured
A wine sweeter than the night

From cursed earth
A poet's birth
Bring hopes and dreams alive

A missing calm
These stormy arms
Push and pull, and never still

Tho' it may rain
Upon this flame
But wash it down
Time never shall

Don't ever be sorry
For who you are,
For I still rhyme for you


JKLM

Addicted

Much like Lestat and all the young Vampires that Anne Rice writes about, I find myself addicted to my senses. To my delight, becoming a Vampire was a mixture of the shedding of an immortal skin and the doning of an immortal responsibility. Indeed, the burden of eternal life is a heavy one -- likely heavier than any short-lived concerns that have crossed or beared down on our limited mortal minds.

Limited indeed. Oh how fragile our existence is, and yet how magnificent we frequently think we are, decked up in our pride and prejudices, blinded by our lack of wisdom, and retarded by our lack of courage. Vampiric senses and sensibility seem now a panecea for the clumsy disease that is mortal life, always degenerating and degrading... Glory in but moments; grasping at every moment we have and can before the inevitable happen.

Well having said that, this existence isn't all morbid and dismal to me. If anything, I'm just disgruntled at how clumsy, how unwise and limited we so frequently let ourselves become. Without making an outrageous comparison with Vampires, it still comes as no shock to know that the simple wisdom of constantly employing your intellect is a difficult one. Seems as if we're even lazy to think, and that there can be such a thing as 'too much thinking'. On the contrary, brooding is quite a different issue -- just as how meditation can be a waste of time should the wrong technique be employed, brooding is frequently misguided, thoughts driving a person's emtions in a perpetual self-feeding loop under the influence of self-cherishing values like ego.

Take the simple issue of communications, for example. How many times have people had the vast opportunities and skill to communicate with another adequately, yet fail to do so? And again, how many have used that opportunity and yet failed to truely communicate with the opposite party? My mentor once issued me this simple statement, among many other valuable lessons: "a conversation is the interaction between two mindsets..." When was the last time you had a conversation with another person?

You might wonder if I'm just sounding a little disgruntled, as if someone had forced his will unpon me or did not listen to me in recent days. Most certainly that happened. However, it is just these simple errors that have upset me. Not once, but many times over, we have been on the receiving end of his will, albeit consistent over the span of our history, but frequently inconsistent at times. What I cannot understand is the lack of consideration and mindfulness of his actions and intentions. At times, they have failed to match in some glaring ways and we have been frustrated for the almost contradictory way they seem to work -- what he said then and what he did now, what he just did and what he meant to have happen then (which has barely taken shape). Sometimes, I wonder why he even bothers suggesting that we 'discuss' about things, when there is obviously little room for negotiations or suggestions.

I'm tired of us having to bend ourselves to accomodate, but I'm neither suggesting that we insist upon our ways nor we force our will upon his unwillingness. I keep wishing it didn't have to be his way-or-the-highway whenever we talk. What's the use of discussing anything? Aren't you just setting yourself (and all of us, because we are inextricably linked) up to be hurt eventually? Don't you realise that you could be wrong? Do you have to experience things for yourself before you can trust, because it certainly seems that you don't trust us to be within your comfort zone.

We're not a threat; we're just family. Why can't we just get along?

Idealistic as my opinions seem, they are still very much flawed due to my over-reliance on my limited and biased senses; I am still nonethewiser as to a solution for our predicament. We have long since learnt to live with it than fix it and live without realising a potential. If I were wise, the issue would already have been solved, but it is not; instead, it has been winged on a daily basis, together with a host of unecessary salt-and-pepper between the ruling authorities.

Because damage from these tensions had long ago left its mark on my development and instincts, I shall not suffer such tragedy on my future should I have the ability to do so. The choice has been made; though I have not the slightest idea how I shall act when it comes my turn in his shoes, I certainly know that I've made a choice to try -- to be wise, to be mindful and to be deserving. Not that I accuse him of lacking these attributes, years with and without you have taught me to respect these values. It's simply that.


JKLM

Simply

When you know
That things can be easy
That you can live simply
That enjoyment is so

How simple it were
Both you and I
Like chocolate and wine
Our journey in a year

Oh how you stay nimble
In worldly tides
Through storms to ride
To fight for simple

To keep that eye open
Keep the pain shut
Feed the burning heart
A fevernt hope unspoken

In scattered magic moments
Quiet visual snippets
Precious mental nuggets
Thoughts in rays golden

Like the generosity
Of a maternal host
Or a child's jealous hold
On her given family

I fall in love quickly
With old friends and you
A freshness like dew
You've always stayed with me

I'd keep them all with me
Of the things we've shared
And the things we've had
These thoughts of you simply


JKLM

Writing

Anne Rice stirs my imagination like no other writer so far. Her books on Vampires have got an iron-grip on my imagination. Her narration of these creatures of the night have set my fingers ploughing through her yellowed pages. Her suggestion and seeming believe of an existence of an immortal but damned eternity seduces me like no other; how else could she have been able to sketch such vivid scenes for my starving imagination to feast on. Their imagined smell of blood, the glassy and cold skin, their stories -- Anne Rice makes it so easy to believe that they are real.

In one interview, Louis the Vampire told the tale of his life in such vivid details to a reporter. In one book, I began wondering what it was if mortals were given such interviews instead. What would you say? How would you say it, for that matter? While it's likely that becoming a Vampire affords you much preternatural attributes, and surely an unsurpassed capacity of awareness and memory are in order; the biting question I faced was one concerning the very nature of life, or supernatural life in this case.

It seemed to me that with or without these attributes, much of our memories are the products of active choice. I'm quite convinced that if you want to remember, you will eventually, somehow. Human limitations aside, I'm quite sure that most potential memories don't even make it past the initial stages of observation and information acquisition. How seldom it was that we paid such attention to the things around, within and after us that we could phrase emotions in words and capture feelings and thoughts in reasoning and argument. But how quick we are to react to the prick of discomfort, disturbances and dissonance.

Could it have been a question of skill and practice? I do believe so. After all, self-awareness is innate, but practiced selectively. How quick this skill responds to the toll of defence and preservation, but yet slow to the more subtle call of reason and arguments. Seems to me, that with time and growing comforts, we begin also to grow in us a vagueness and detachment towards details, even towards life itself. Yet at the same time, we're sharpening the tack of our egotism, driving it into every soft spot we can, establishing a new 'my space'.

Louis the immortal was tormented by his mortal nature. His human soul had been trapped in a transforming Vampire body. Questions, longing, guilt, detachment, hunger... Confusion. Aren't we much the same way? Except that while we frequently run and hide, suppressing our inner demons, Louis could do little to hide, especially since he was now like the demon's bastard child. Run for an eternity? I don't think so.

Does searching and a desire to know make a person wise? This is a tricky situation. A person could search, and not find. For that matter, he could search and find, and still not be wise. Could detachment be a manifestation of wisdom? Louis seemed to have learned a lot through his internal and external witchhunts for the truth in order to come to terms with his unplanned immortality. He learned to be detached, and yet still feel his emotions rage within his wretched shell on issues concerning his humanaliity. Given his experiences, dare someone in his shoes be considered wise? For that matter, by what do we judge wisdom and it's value? Could it be a virtue? Surely, we can't discount the possibility of there being a person who is wise, and yet at the same time immoral because he can be. Though we condemn people in these positions to names like 'craft', 'sly', 'cunning' or 'evil', can we not admit that they are still clever and to a large extent wise? How else would they have had the advantage over us that we so loath?

And so now, I'm beginning to wonder about my desire to strive towards wisdom... Like sailing in the night sky, a black ocean marked by stars, vague guidelines and obstacles; where are we to head? Our characters are a key determinant on how we navigate this life; what then constitues our characters? Could it have been given to us, thrust into our mortal shells without a choice otherwise? Could it have been chosen by us right at the very start, and we're only beginning now to discover who and what we really are? That could explain the internal conflicts we frequently face, but this implies that we're likely to have some kind of a character 'destiny'. Choice and character... one influencing the other. So many questions that concern what I am now, and where it brings me, and how I ought to be...

In spite of these questions, doubts and suspicion, my mind is still calm, perhaps in the knowledge of commitment -- a belief that there will always be a truth, which is an aspect of the truth. And I am the eternally roving spiritual hand that seeks out the next piece of the puzzle. Regardless of the ultimate picture or purpose of completing the puzzle, I intend to keep searching yet determined never to stop.



JKLM

Means and Ends

My brother and I used to have a little discussion over this: yoga, as a means or an end?

Our characters were different, and safe to say, he took to yoga as a means of pursuing the goals of his life, as a way through life. For me, there was a different quiet I sought, one that had its hunger fed from deep within. Yoga was an end for me, representative of my search for wisdom and as a way of life. Why? Perhaps this could answer your question:

You Are The Chariot

You represent a difficult battle, and a well-deserved victory.You tend to struggle to get what you want, both internally and externally.You excel at controlling opposing forces, getting down the same path.In the end, you bring glory and success - using pure will to move forward. Your fortune: There is great conflict in your life right now, either with yourself or others.You must find a solution to this conflict, which is likely to be a "middle road" between the two forces.You posses the skills to triumph over these struggles, as long as your will is strong.You are transforming your inner self, building a better foundation for future successes.

What Tarot Card Are You?

JKLM