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
Friday, July 28, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
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
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
Friday, July 21, 2006
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
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
Sunday, July 09, 2006
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)