I flipped rummaged through our collection of plastic bags, I found myself on a time trip. As the bags parted without resistance to my clumsy plundering fingers, one by one, each of them crackled for me to stop. And I did so rather often, considering our escapades with each retro red, blue and white.
What a trip it was, with flashing images of the things we bought and places we combed filling my MTV mind. It must have been this feeling of cluttered excitement that ignited the Closet Auntie bomb in me.
Ah well, here goes another whirlwind of hair and dust.
JKLM
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
Procrastination (Note: Tentative Title)
I'll tell you guys some other time about that time I got into trouble when I procras....
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Strange Rhyme
A leo's grey
An aquarius ray
Upon a vivd silk we tread.
Earthly showers
Bring moonface craters
Like butter with daily bread.
While in our head
Within lush beds
Lie a benign state between the stones.
Electric fever
From vinyl dream weaver
A dance that echoes from our bones.
Still we sleep
In turn to reach
A state of peace before we're done
As our tide rises with the sun.
JKLM
An aquarius ray
Upon a vivd silk we tread.
Earthly showers
Bring moonface craters
Like butter with daily bread.
While in our head
Within lush beds
Lie a benign state between the stones.
Electric fever
From vinyl dream weaver
A dance that echoes from our bones.
Still we sleep
In turn to reach
A state of peace before we're done
As our tide rises with the sun.
JKLM
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Concept of Two Creations
The Concept of Two Creations, as I understand it, states that most phenomenon have two points of creation -- the mental (or metaphysical) and the physical. With respect to our thoughts, actions, resultant consequences and personalities, this concept probably tries to explain that these things don't just 'happen'. At at least two distince points, we have all had some influence and choice over their development.
A very useful insight, but also a very solemn revelation.
Believing in this concept means believing in the existence of choice and self-awareness, and of course, placing yourself in a position where you are responsible for just about everything that is you. That's basically suggesting that I was (and still am) responsible as well as irresponsible. That's a really tough pill to swallow sometimes.
So many times before, I had taken the easier way out, rationalising to myself that it wasn't my fault. It was always easier to put the blame on environmental factors, on things and people I had no direct control over. Anger seemed justifiable and practical, because it was frequently used as a means in my environment. Even now, as I am older and have my opened my eyes a little more, anger seems convenient and can at times even be desirable. It seems as if a man with peace and without external emotion is a rather strange and undesirable human being.
This might seem like a rather extreme view. I beg to differ; recall the last time you were upset about something, and simply ask yourself this -- what were you upset about? Recall the other times when you were upset about something else -- what were you upset about? Now think about this: how many times, amongst those answers, did you use the words "I", "somebody was unreasonable/stupid/silly", "it wasn't my fault", "why didn't...", "if only...", "I wish..." etc...
I have come to believe that if we were truely as proactive and as good as we hoped/wanted to be, surely each problematic situation encountered is no more than an anormally in the function of things. What instigates our vivd reactions is frequently not the problem itself, but rather the flood of thougths that accompany it. Taking each problem on its own, we will easily see that they are nothing more than a sequence of events set against a preferred sequence. There's not much point piling problems together, because it's not only easy to confuse them with things that are normal, they frequently seem to suggest that we are far less capable than what we are!
And so, I've followed some good advice on a yellowed paperback to take a moment to stop and think ever so often. I've learnt not to ignore the voices in my head, not to suppress my stubborn will, but to accept them instead and to question their purpose and origin. Because they have these qualities, they would sooner be understood and broken down and away. It a little like how you don't chase after the snake that has bitten you, you find a way to remove the poison instead.
JKLM
A very useful insight, but also a very solemn revelation.
Believing in this concept means believing in the existence of choice and self-awareness, and of course, placing yourself in a position where you are responsible for just about everything that is you. That's basically suggesting that I was (and still am) responsible as well as irresponsible. That's a really tough pill to swallow sometimes.
So many times before, I had taken the easier way out, rationalising to myself that it wasn't my fault. It was always easier to put the blame on environmental factors, on things and people I had no direct control over. Anger seemed justifiable and practical, because it was frequently used as a means in my environment. Even now, as I am older and have my opened my eyes a little more, anger seems convenient and can at times even be desirable. It seems as if a man with peace and without external emotion is a rather strange and undesirable human being.
This might seem like a rather extreme view. I beg to differ; recall the last time you were upset about something, and simply ask yourself this -- what were you upset about? Recall the other times when you were upset about something else -- what were you upset about? Now think about this: how many times, amongst those answers, did you use the words "I", "somebody was unreasonable/stupid/silly", "it wasn't my fault", "why didn't...", "if only...", "I wish..." etc...
I have come to believe that if we were truely as proactive and as good as we hoped/wanted to be, surely each problematic situation encountered is no more than an anormally in the function of things. What instigates our vivd reactions is frequently not the problem itself, but rather the flood of thougths that accompany it. Taking each problem on its own, we will easily see that they are nothing more than a sequence of events set against a preferred sequence. There's not much point piling problems together, because it's not only easy to confuse them with things that are normal, they frequently seem to suggest that we are far less capable than what we are!
And so, I've followed some good advice on a yellowed paperback to take a moment to stop and think ever so often. I've learnt not to ignore the voices in my head, not to suppress my stubborn will, but to accept them instead and to question their purpose and origin. Because they have these qualities, they would sooner be understood and broken down and away. It a little like how you don't chase after the snake that has bitten you, you find a way to remove the poison instead.
JKLM
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Yoga
Control.
Breathing.
Life.
Asanas.
Balance
~ YOGA.
I never knew that moving my body through simple movements with calm control and breathing can be so refreshing! In fact, a short yoga session of about 3o mins made me acutely aware of the motion of my own limbs -- how heavy they are and how I've neglected them all this while. While I enslaved my muscles in pursuit of my sporting desires, it is their turn now to enslave me in my body's natural pursuit of balance.
A little yoga a day; a small step towards balance and greater self-control and awareness everyday. I guess it may be a good thing too that my father's temporary absence has forced my brother and I into adopting an unlikely schedule -- early mornings and regular walks outdoors with the dogs. Nothing like an imposed routine to break another.
With a piece of paper, my father is now onboard a plane bound for Christchurch. With another piece of paper, you made me smile. Won't you come fly with me someday?
JKLM
Breathing.
Life.
Asanas.
Balance
~ YOGA.
I never knew that moving my body through simple movements with calm control and breathing can be so refreshing! In fact, a short yoga session of about 3o mins made me acutely aware of the motion of my own limbs -- how heavy they are and how I've neglected them all this while. While I enslaved my muscles in pursuit of my sporting desires, it is their turn now to enslave me in my body's natural pursuit of balance.
A little yoga a day; a small step towards balance and greater self-control and awareness everyday. I guess it may be a good thing too that my father's temporary absence has forced my brother and I into adopting an unlikely schedule -- early mornings and regular walks outdoors with the dogs. Nothing like an imposed routine to break another.
With a piece of paper, my father is now onboard a plane bound for Christchurch. With another piece of paper, you made me smile. Won't you come fly with me someday?
JKLM
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Dreaming Awake
I've been visited by several strange and distasteful dreams lately. If you considered their possible implications with respect to the areas of my life, I'm sure you'd be equally disturbed. What I can't put a finger on is whether they are merely manifestations of my unsettled imagination or something deeper, especially since I've had a pretty accurate collection of deja-vu when I was younger.
This time around, it was about my EAI boss. He was one of leading characters in my HK mafia-story dream. Basically, he got me and my family into trouble during one of his routine indulgences. From what I understand, and fear in some ways, I was under his employment in several ways. We finally got off the hook, when the FBI used us as a stepping stone to nail my boss down during a stake-out, but not before we were dragged through an entire crime-thriller movie anatomy. From seedy back alleys to abandoned buildings and urban slums, we were there and so was he.
A dream? It's hard to dismiss it as such when thiss isn't the only or fist time I've had such encounters. It seemed like a continuation of another dream I've had when I was much younger.
What does it mean?
I know what you'd say: that it's time I got some more sleep. That's why I love you, and that's how you make me love you.
JKLM
This time around, it was about my EAI boss. He was one of leading characters in my HK mafia-story dream. Basically, he got me and my family into trouble during one of his routine indulgences. From what I understand, and fear in some ways, I was under his employment in several ways. We finally got off the hook, when the FBI used us as a stepping stone to nail my boss down during a stake-out, but not before we were dragged through an entire crime-thriller movie anatomy. From seedy back alleys to abandoned buildings and urban slums, we were there and so was he.
A dream? It's hard to dismiss it as such when thiss isn't the only or fist time I've had such encounters. It seemed like a continuation of another dream I've had when I was much younger.
What does it mean?
I know what you'd say: that it's time I got some more sleep. That's why I love you, and that's how you make me love you.
JKLM
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Dreams; A Cocktail of Reality
There is a beatuy in loss. There is something to be gained in loss.
In my dream today, I have found a piece of reality.
You see... I dreamt of a loss, not too foreign, yet not personal; and how a peace was bought with the shared burden of loss and separation. Under the winding intestines of a massive flyover, we gathered -- all 4 of us, in the rain. You were my brother, we were squatting. He and She were there too, our parents, walling around us and peering over our shoulders as they always did. In spite of the rain, our attention was turned towards an object within -- a toy, a noisy little object.
To you, my parents, it was noisy, and annoying. You make a comment, show your irritation and object to our fasciantion; you stand there nonetheless, while my brother and I investigate our newfound interest and struggle to balance your opinions. I asked: what don't you like about it? You just stood there, but I understood. I saw in your presence that you understood yourself and you were beginning to accept us. The you I remember was not like this, well, at least not before the divorce was confirmed.
I remember that piece of paper, calm and grotesque laying accusingly on the floor, in the rain. Your signatures were on their respective places on the lines -- imprisoned and convicting. Innocence is the first victim of war, and we were the last prisoners of your negotiations. With each drop of rain, the paper crackles its protest. With each drop of rain, your signatures become more dilute. They run, as we did, from their prisons.
I felt warmth; the panacea of understanding and the comfort of peace. You had your battles to fight, and we had ours. All we wanted was this. Smiling through the rain, I asked: why couldn't it have been like this before this? Tears and rain. It was the same.
---------------------------------------
A dream, or a cocktail of reality?
JKLM
In my dream today, I have found a piece of reality.
You see... I dreamt of a loss, not too foreign, yet not personal; and how a peace was bought with the shared burden of loss and separation. Under the winding intestines of a massive flyover, we gathered -- all 4 of us, in the rain. You were my brother, we were squatting. He and She were there too, our parents, walling around us and peering over our shoulders as they always did. In spite of the rain, our attention was turned towards an object within -- a toy, a noisy little object.
To you, my parents, it was noisy, and annoying. You make a comment, show your irritation and object to our fasciantion; you stand there nonetheless, while my brother and I investigate our newfound interest and struggle to balance your opinions. I asked: what don't you like about it? You just stood there, but I understood. I saw in your presence that you understood yourself and you were beginning to accept us. The you I remember was not like this, well, at least not before the divorce was confirmed.
I remember that piece of paper, calm and grotesque laying accusingly on the floor, in the rain. Your signatures were on their respective places on the lines -- imprisoned and convicting. Innocence is the first victim of war, and we were the last prisoners of your negotiations. With each drop of rain, the paper crackles its protest. With each drop of rain, your signatures become more dilute. They run, as we did, from their prisons.
I felt warmth; the panacea of understanding and the comfort of peace. You had your battles to fight, and we had ours. All we wanted was this. Smiling through the rain, I asked: why couldn't it have been like this before this? Tears and rain. It was the same.
---------------------------------------
A dream, or a cocktail of reality?
JKLM
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Tribute To Nothingness
"... Ignorance of our true nature is the root of all (mental) torment..., and the root of ignorance itseld is the mind's habitual tendency to distraction.
To end the mind's distraction would be to end (all suffering)...; the key to this... is to bring the mind home to its true nature, through the practice of meditation."
"Take care not to impose anything on the mind. When you meditate, there should be no effort to control, and no attempt to be peaceful. Don't be overly solemn or feel that you are taking part in some special ritual; let go even of the idea that you are meditating. Let your body remain as it is, and your breath as you find it.
Think of yourself as the sky, holding the universe."
Distracted? Take short breaks, alert yourself and then try again.
JKLM
To end the mind's distraction would be to end (all suffering)...; the key to this... is to bring the mind home to its true nature, through the practice of meditation."
"Take care not to impose anything on the mind. When you meditate, there should be no effort to control, and no attempt to be peaceful. Don't be overly solemn or feel that you are taking part in some special ritual; let go even of the idea that you are meditating. Let your body remain as it is, and your breath as you find it.
Think of yourself as the sky, holding the universe."
Distracted? Take short breaks, alert yourself and then try again.
JKLM
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Mercury Rising
I feel a disturbance in the Force.
There seems to be storm clouds gathering at the horizon. The air is thirsty for their rain, and the ground anticipates their thunder.
My nose cringgles at the damp vinegar of your coming.
Let it storm.
JKLM
There seems to be storm clouds gathering at the horizon. The air is thirsty for their rain, and the ground anticipates their thunder.
My nose cringgles at the damp vinegar of your coming.
Let it storm.
JKLM
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Rain and Wind
Rain;
How we hide from rain.
How we fear a pain
So hard to tame,
Too close to our name.
Rain;
How we hear her sing,
Imagine such things
About her nature
And the thoughts they bring.
O, but rain
Never falls alone.
With wind and whisper,
Her travels are known.
Wind;
How aloof he can be
How playful and free
Yet he holds no form
That your eyes can see.
Wind;
Are you empty
Are you full;
I feel your life
You are no fool.
O Rain and Wind,
What nature bring
Your endless springs
Glitter-speckled dreams
With your might as king.
JKLM
How we hide from rain.
How we fear a pain
So hard to tame,
Too close to our name.
Rain;
How we hear her sing,
Imagine such things
About her nature
And the thoughts they bring.
O, but rain
Never falls alone.
With wind and whisper,
Her travels are known.
Wind;
How aloof he can be
How playful and free
Yet he holds no form
That your eyes can see.
Wind;
Are you empty
Are you full;
I feel your life
You are no fool.
O Rain and Wind,
What nature bring
Your endless springs
Glitter-speckled dreams
With your might as king.
JKLM
Monday, January 16, 2006
Disarray
Getting started in school can be quite a challenge; getting started in the rest of your life is much tougher. There's something about getting by with little sleep and being driven on by unfinished tasks that easily makes one feel quite alive. But this would not be a purposeful life, nor would it be a life in vain. It's simply... well, temporarily overloaded. Some people thrive under such conditions, while others prefer not to. I guess I'm one of those guys in between.
After staying out till 3am for another rehearsal, I was reluctant to head home. The unpacking would be an ordeal, that's not to say anything about the cab fare home in the first place. I wondered if there would ever be a time when our producers could actually stick to the timeline they suggested. Just a full run, and then it's home for the whole lot of us, he said. I was only half-listening.
So this is the entertainment business. Late nights, short intense bursts of activities, flaring tempers, dynamic performances, individual pressure, team work, food, drinks, mahjong.... Fancy a career and a life like this. I sought to be wise, regardless of the path my search would lead me. Now I'm not so sure. But oh, the excitement of finally having an opportunity like this to explore your creative ego and rouse the slumbering madman within. Perhaps...
------------------------------------
Got humbled again this weekend, and for a damned good reason too. Just not enough power, dammit. The competition was a different game for me this time around. My attempts were more calm and approach was more jovial, but I always fell short. It could be another few more years of training and consistently harder climbs before I could ever hope to be fighting against these giants I now walk with. I wonder if I'll still be climbing by then.
Climbing has made me strong, in many ways. Climbing has made me beautiful, just the same. Climbing has set me free, in ways unlike other sports. Why do I climb? I climb to be wise, and I live to learn. My origin and destination may well be one and the same, but I am nonethewiser for now. So for now, I'll just climb and keep on living.
JKLM
After staying out till 3am for another rehearsal, I was reluctant to head home. The unpacking would be an ordeal, that's not to say anything about the cab fare home in the first place. I wondered if there would ever be a time when our producers could actually stick to the timeline they suggested. Just a full run, and then it's home for the whole lot of us, he said. I was only half-listening.
So this is the entertainment business. Late nights, short intense bursts of activities, flaring tempers, dynamic performances, individual pressure, team work, food, drinks, mahjong.... Fancy a career and a life like this. I sought to be wise, regardless of the path my search would lead me. Now I'm not so sure. But oh, the excitement of finally having an opportunity like this to explore your creative ego and rouse the slumbering madman within. Perhaps...
------------------------------------
Got humbled again this weekend, and for a damned good reason too. Just not enough power, dammit. The competition was a different game for me this time around. My attempts were more calm and approach was more jovial, but I always fell short. It could be another few more years of training and consistently harder climbs before I could ever hope to be fighting against these giants I now walk with. I wonder if I'll still be climbing by then.
Climbing has made me strong, in many ways. Climbing has made me beautiful, just the same. Climbing has set me free, in ways unlike other sports. Why do I climb? I climb to be wise, and I live to learn. My origin and destination may well be one and the same, but I am nonethewiser for now. So for now, I'll just climb and keep on living.
JKLM
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Sure As Autumn Flame
What would you be
You once asked me
As if I had no name
Like wind and rain
My answer came
Sure as Autumn flame
A playful chuckle
A teasing giggle
Your hands they spelt my name
Seasons ago
As my love flowed
To you, never the same
Flow,
A river of flame and gold
Tribute to a beautiful soul
Blow,
These winds that whisper your name
Sure as Autumn flame
And with the fading summer reign
Your hands my heart did tame
The sun and moon
They move too soon
And took Autumn away
But in your eyes
I know I'll find
A place of wind and rain
Sure as Autumn flame
You once asked me
As if I had no name
Like wind and rain
My answer came
Sure as Autumn flame
A playful chuckle
A teasing giggle
Your hands they spelt my name
Seasons ago
As my love flowed
To you, never the same
Flow,
A river of flame and gold
Tribute to a beautiful soul
Blow,
These winds that whisper your name
Sure as Autumn flame
And with the fading summer reign
Your hands my heart did tame
The sun and moon
They move too soon
And took Autumn away
But in your eyes
I know I'll find
A place of wind and rain
Sure as Autumn flame
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Window Poetry
Inspired by the scene at Wisma Atria, I sat myself down at Coffee Club Express and decided to brew my own little blend on the atmosphere.
A lunar facade
With splashing regard,
In all its clashing customs
Dilute a trumpetting tradition.
Our souls we bribe
For uniqueness prescribed.
I'm told that my shape
Is my greatest love-hate.
What fashion whirlwind
Will ever see calm within?
A stray upon its tail,
In style we trust -- it can't fail.
Bright darkness and a dark light,
Sense and taste, they sure do fight.
"Oh, but to this I don't subscribe."
Sounds like another brave to hide...
Is it Chinese New Year already? Gee, I think I'm just not ready for a high-contrast, colour-coordinated and trendy Lunar New Year which advertisements persuade me to adopt. Whatever happened to the little things?
JKLM
A lunar facade
With splashing regard,
In all its clashing customs
Dilute a trumpetting tradition.
Our souls we bribe
For uniqueness prescribed.
I'm told that my shape
Is my greatest love-hate.
What fashion whirlwind
Will ever see calm within?
A stray upon its tail,
In style we trust -- it can't fail.
Bright darkness and a dark light,
Sense and taste, they sure do fight.
"Oh, but to this I don't subscribe."
Sounds like another brave to hide...
Is it Chinese New Year already? Gee, I think I'm just not ready for a high-contrast, colour-coordinated and trendy Lunar New Year which advertisements persuade me to adopt. Whatever happened to the little things?
JKLM
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
The Twenti-FIRST Century
It's only 2006, and I've been through more events in these 6 years that have shaped my life than in the last century. I was just clearing out my organiser from 2005 and it started the memories rolling back. Time: like stream water chattering down its pebble stairs, you can be sure that its nature will never change, but with each moment, the past will remain nothing more than a memory.
At the turn of the century, I graduated from JC. I was a little disappointed at the fact that nothing much amounted from our being the "millenium batch". It was just a fantasy, nothing more; the guys were still going to be enlisted and the girls were still going to work and move on to University. I enlisted in the SAF in April, and joined thousands of other young boys on their journeys to become men. I could have sworn that for the sake of education, the elders won't hesitate to call you a boy anytime before they put you through some disastrous experience, and then call you a man after that.
I played my way into OCS and eventually 1 SIR, where I began learning how to act like a leader and what it actually meant to be a leader respectively. I got my first taste of life, and my own foolishness within this two and a half-years. I met a dear friend in this period and made a buddy out of him. I made a new friend and made a mentor out of him, who in turn made a student out of me. I let go of a relationship and tried to start another one, only to have it start all wrong again.
Following my stint in the Army, I enrolled into another institution -- NUS. It was here where the bulk of my education took place. My earlier years of formal academics seemed almost ridiculous and meaningless compared to the lessons that I was to learn within the campus walls. From 2002 to 2003, my mentor showed my his way, and tried to show me mine. I tried to learn what I could, tried to grow as much as I could. It was also within these years in which I first rekindled old friendships, darkened my soul and brightened my laughter.
It was also within these years that my mentor reminded me of my role in NUS: to get an education. Right he was. For it was in 2004, that I finally learnt one of the most important lessons in my life -- to stand on my own and stand firm for what I believed in. Sadly, balance marks all that is central to life, and in order to gain, I had to loose. In NUS, I got the education I enrolled for -- both in and out of the classroom. I learnt, against my previous academic advise, that my inclinations and my obligations were misalilgned, and that I was anything but exam smart. Nevertheless, I am certain that I managed to learn the important lessons.
The twenti-first century marked many firsts for me. My first close contact with my brother -- spending time with him at work and off work, on holiday and sharing. My first long and hard look into my family and myself through a most personal encounter. My first public performance in a live show, presenting a story and a song. The first time I finally understood what it meant to let something go. The first time I joined and competed in rock climbing competitions. My first rock trip to Thailand, and I do hope it will certainly not be the last. The first times I cooked for people I cared about. The first times I finally got round to meeting up with old friends and mend my ways to renew their bonds. My first Boulderactive and committee. And the first time I was ever so sure...
Into 2006 some stroll, some run while others hesitate. I'll take my chances and stride into the new year, with you. So much has happened in the years past. While I may think of myself as a sort of late-bloomer at times, I'm certainly still glad that I bloom at all. There is still much to do and to be achieved. I've got a headstart on this year, and I intend to keep it to my advantage.
Warmest Regards,
JKLM
At the turn of the century, I graduated from JC. I was a little disappointed at the fact that nothing much amounted from our being the "millenium batch". It was just a fantasy, nothing more; the guys were still going to be enlisted and the girls were still going to work and move on to University. I enlisted in the SAF in April, and joined thousands of other young boys on their journeys to become men. I could have sworn that for the sake of education, the elders won't hesitate to call you a boy anytime before they put you through some disastrous experience, and then call you a man after that.
I played my way into OCS and eventually 1 SIR, where I began learning how to act like a leader and what it actually meant to be a leader respectively. I got my first taste of life, and my own foolishness within this two and a half-years. I met a dear friend in this period and made a buddy out of him. I made a new friend and made a mentor out of him, who in turn made a student out of me. I let go of a relationship and tried to start another one, only to have it start all wrong again.
Following my stint in the Army, I enrolled into another institution -- NUS. It was here where the bulk of my education took place. My earlier years of formal academics seemed almost ridiculous and meaningless compared to the lessons that I was to learn within the campus walls. From 2002 to 2003, my mentor showed my his way, and tried to show me mine. I tried to learn what I could, tried to grow as much as I could. It was also within these years in which I first rekindled old friendships, darkened my soul and brightened my laughter.
It was also within these years that my mentor reminded me of my role in NUS: to get an education. Right he was. For it was in 2004, that I finally learnt one of the most important lessons in my life -- to stand on my own and stand firm for what I believed in. Sadly, balance marks all that is central to life, and in order to gain, I had to loose. In NUS, I got the education I enrolled for -- both in and out of the classroom. I learnt, against my previous academic advise, that my inclinations and my obligations were misalilgned, and that I was anything but exam smart. Nevertheless, I am certain that I managed to learn the important lessons.
The twenti-first century marked many firsts for me. My first close contact with my brother -- spending time with him at work and off work, on holiday and sharing. My first long and hard look into my family and myself through a most personal encounter. My first public performance in a live show, presenting a story and a song. The first time I finally understood what it meant to let something go. The first time I joined and competed in rock climbing competitions. My first rock trip to Thailand, and I do hope it will certainly not be the last. The first times I cooked for people I cared about. The first times I finally got round to meeting up with old friends and mend my ways to renew their bonds. My first Boulderactive and committee. And the first time I was ever so sure...
Into 2006 some stroll, some run while others hesitate. I'll take my chances and stride into the new year, with you. So much has happened in the years past. While I may think of myself as a sort of late-bloomer at times, I'm certainly still glad that I bloom at all. There is still much to do and to be achieved. I've got a headstart on this year, and I intend to keep it to my advantage.
Warmest Regards,
JKLM
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Little Bangkok
We have a new squattter -- Scruffy, a gypsy with an appetite for affection as large as her appetite for food. It didn't take us long to befriend her and break her in once she accepted our invitation to lunch. Since then, we had been gathering twice a day -- once for lunch and once for supper. But she is dirty; she wanders about all day and haunts our corridors regularly with her disarming call. We had considered suggesting some form of bathing or personal hygene for Scruffy, but we were sure that she wasn't going to accept. Well, if she obliged, then she'd be allowed to curl up on the bed with the other furrballs. But then we'd never be able to make sure she stays clean beyond the day we physically see to it.
I guess we could have extended the hospitality to Grumpy as well, but Scrufy doesn't like him. She openly displays her disapproval whenever he enters the room. I guess his characteristic rake-on-gravel greeting doesn't do much for improving his reputation either. We had our eyebrows raised when we noticed Grumpy trailing her down the corridors on some days. Despite a lack of better suitors, Scruffy has insisted on placing her dignity before his advances. Beyond, mere evolutionary incompatibility, we suspected that Grumpy was probably one of those guys with some kind of social inaptness, like bad breath, body odour or just a plain unappealing voice. The poor girl.
We're nevertheless thankful for this new addition to "the illegals" family in our neighbourhood. A new muse to help smooth the rough edges and bridge the short fuses. There's already plenty of that we have had to handle over the last few weeks -- the last thing we'd need would be to have little Grumffies and Scrumpies running around.
---------------------------------
I met Scruffy earlier this morning for breakfast. Well, it was more of an invitatino from Scruffy -- she came calling at the door at about 6.45 am. I almost ran into her when I was heading out to collect the laundry; somehow that little gypsy just knows when I'm awake.
Food had always been a rather quick and purposeful affair for Scruffy and me. I'd lay out the dishes and she'd tuck in, a grateful nod to sign her thanks. This morning was no exception, though I noticed a look of sleep still wrapped around her face. There's just something very personal about being able to yawn together with someone. Ha... Scruffy.
It's a real pity we couldn't share breakfast with Her. She didn't wake with me and nag me out of my lazy sleep. I didn't have the subtle pleasures of coaxing her awake soundless, with a very personal alarm clock. It was just Scruffy and I this morning, and I was packing. She was packed; packed and ready to fly.
On my way down to the airport, I scavanged for a space on the morning train; swooping down to the first target, still warm from the kill. Tucking my burdens under me and heaving my sleepy limbs against the seat supports, I breathed a half-sigh and drifted to the electronic lullaby of the train mechanics.
A holiday, finally, for us. She's going to Bangkok and I'm headed for KL, our parting separated by two nights. Given the pace of our vacation programs thus far, I'd say that it's about time we had this well-deserved break. For days now I had been contemplating my impending fate without her. The days would pass easy. It is the nights that will prove tricky. I know for certain that I am no longer the same naive sentimental fool I used to be, but I certainly have come to appreciate the little things between us more than before.
The impression she leaves on and with me are always subtle. It's the little things, she once said to me. I wonder if she considered the nights "little things" too. Certainly the darkness holds much for us, but now that Bangkok sparkles with her scent I tingle with a wariness of the familiarity of darkfall. I'm sure the days will drug me sufficiently for sleep to come easily, but it would be purposeful.
Well, I think that it would be snowing by the time I return. In my heart at least, but I'm sure she'll notice the subtle look in my eye. For now, I hope she has a safe trip to Bangkok. There are now two beats in that heart she carries -- hers and ours. Please, be safe and have fun.
JKLM
I guess we could have extended the hospitality to Grumpy as well, but Scrufy doesn't like him. She openly displays her disapproval whenever he enters the room. I guess his characteristic rake-on-gravel greeting doesn't do much for improving his reputation either. We had our eyebrows raised when we noticed Grumpy trailing her down the corridors on some days. Despite a lack of better suitors, Scruffy has insisted on placing her dignity before his advances. Beyond, mere evolutionary incompatibility, we suspected that Grumpy was probably one of those guys with some kind of social inaptness, like bad breath, body odour or just a plain unappealing voice. The poor girl.
We're nevertheless thankful for this new addition to "the illegals" family in our neighbourhood. A new muse to help smooth the rough edges and bridge the short fuses. There's already plenty of that we have had to handle over the last few weeks -- the last thing we'd need would be to have little Grumffies and Scrumpies running around.
---------------------------------
I met Scruffy earlier this morning for breakfast. Well, it was more of an invitatino from Scruffy -- she came calling at the door at about 6.45 am. I almost ran into her when I was heading out to collect the laundry; somehow that little gypsy just knows when I'm awake.
Food had always been a rather quick and purposeful affair for Scruffy and me. I'd lay out the dishes and she'd tuck in, a grateful nod to sign her thanks. This morning was no exception, though I noticed a look of sleep still wrapped around her face. There's just something very personal about being able to yawn together with someone. Ha... Scruffy.
It's a real pity we couldn't share breakfast with Her. She didn't wake with me and nag me out of my lazy sleep. I didn't have the subtle pleasures of coaxing her awake soundless, with a very personal alarm clock. It was just Scruffy and I this morning, and I was packing. She was packed; packed and ready to fly.
On my way down to the airport, I scavanged for a space on the morning train; swooping down to the first target, still warm from the kill. Tucking my burdens under me and heaving my sleepy limbs against the seat supports, I breathed a half-sigh and drifted to the electronic lullaby of the train mechanics.
A holiday, finally, for us. She's going to Bangkok and I'm headed for KL, our parting separated by two nights. Given the pace of our vacation programs thus far, I'd say that it's about time we had this well-deserved break. For days now I had been contemplating my impending fate without her. The days would pass easy. It is the nights that will prove tricky. I know for certain that I am no longer the same naive sentimental fool I used to be, but I certainly have come to appreciate the little things between us more than before.
The impression she leaves on and with me are always subtle. It's the little things, she once said to me. I wonder if she considered the nights "little things" too. Certainly the darkness holds much for us, but now that Bangkok sparkles with her scent I tingle with a wariness of the familiarity of darkfall. I'm sure the days will drug me sufficiently for sleep to come easily, but it would be purposeful.
Well, I think that it would be snowing by the time I return. In my heart at least, but I'm sure she'll notice the subtle look in my eye. For now, I hope she has a safe trip to Bangkok. There are now two beats in that heart she carries -- hers and ours. Please, be safe and have fun.
JKLM
Friday, December 09, 2005
Tribute
My music director is a teacher. He is a teacher because he taught me more about myself than about the music he helped me to make. He taught me to open my eyes, free my heart and dance to the music in my soul. He taught me that I could still learn when I thought that I had already known all that I needed to know. He requested me to leave my ego at the doorstep and showed me that he still respected me when I was disarmed. He showed me that he had a temper, but he was also fair, and funny too.
Through him, I have learnt to let Him and Her be. It's their choices, not mine. My previous entry was proven to have gone through as little considerate thought as it took me to fire the slew of digital accusations. My opinions don't matter for now because they are merely observations from my position.
------------------------------
At 1 a.m., that familiar warmth curled up beside me, it felt like home. Not the physical domain, instead, it's the final port my ship comes to call. My shield from the storm, the winds and the rain -- my home away from home. For the tingle of her comfort at the end of the day, I'd slave for a day and risk much more away from her.
At 8 a.m., her opulent gems are a sight to behold. As they fight back fingers of sleepy restraint, her eyelids betray their struggle -- bright and glittering orbs of child-like passion. The eyes can't be the windows to the soul, because if they are so, her soul should be darker than night and more consuming than the depths. But they are warm and comforting, offering a seclusion that I can retreat to in respite to find peace -- peace in her hands.
Whenever I hide, I close my eyes. I close my eyes to concentrate on feeling and touching. Every night, before we drift away, there is a dance her hands perform in an almost ritualistic manner. A stacato tapdance, they dance upon the surface on which they rest, seemingly welcoming our impending journey. I close my eyes and wait for that performance nightly now, and it has become my adopted ritual. Without them, sleep is but purposeful and short, nothing like the way we drift to wake and find one another again.
JKLM
Through him, I have learnt to let Him and Her be. It's their choices, not mine. My previous entry was proven to have gone through as little considerate thought as it took me to fire the slew of digital accusations. My opinions don't matter for now because they are merely observations from my position.
------------------------------
At 1 a.m., that familiar warmth curled up beside me, it felt like home. Not the physical domain, instead, it's the final port my ship comes to call. My shield from the storm, the winds and the rain -- my home away from home. For the tingle of her comfort at the end of the day, I'd slave for a day and risk much more away from her.
At 8 a.m., her opulent gems are a sight to behold. As they fight back fingers of sleepy restraint, her eyelids betray their struggle -- bright and glittering orbs of child-like passion. The eyes can't be the windows to the soul, because if they are so, her soul should be darker than night and more consuming than the depths. But they are warm and comforting, offering a seclusion that I can retreat to in respite to find peace -- peace in her hands.
Whenever I hide, I close my eyes. I close my eyes to concentrate on feeling and touching. Every night, before we drift away, there is a dance her hands perform in an almost ritualistic manner. A stacato tapdance, they dance upon the surface on which they rest, seemingly welcoming our impending journey. I close my eyes and wait for that performance nightly now, and it has become my adopted ritual. Without them, sleep is but purposeful and short, nothing like the way we drift to wake and find one another again.
JKLM
Friday, December 02, 2005
Hollow Victories
Sometimes victories can be hollow. In spite of hopes that certain thoughts would not materialise, and that certain people's habits won't show, they still do. It's a hollow victory simply because nobody benefits from that correct guess. It's also hollow because it empties me out when I have to mask my annoyance and PR my way through the day's efforts.
Alright, to be fair, it has been a tough day for everyone. And while I had not expected them to be extremely enthusiastic and productive still by the time they had reached their second job site, I certianly had hoped that they wouldn't just sit around and be passive about things.
A few thoughts crossed my mind even before their return. Firstly, there was not informing anyone of the other committment they had on during the earlier part of the day. I guessed as much that their assumption was that someone would inform the others about it. Fine. My next thought was one on fairness / equity: where is your priority? Given that you guys were pretty stubborn about having the dates fixed in their current arrangement, I guess that it was just an unfortunate accident that these two events had to clash. Fine. Perhaps there was an emergency of some sort. Perhaps it was on short notice. Whatever.
Secondly, while I had blamed myself for being overly judgemental when my unoccupied mind drifted through the above thoughts before their arrival, I had a sneeking suspicion that it was going to come true. I didn't really want it to come true, though I knew that there was nothing I could do to prevent it or avoid it in the opposite case. Still, I had expected it to be different, given their earlier stance and sentiments.
So I was right. She was disappointing as usual -- more talk than action, more passive action than active interest. I don't want to judge or blame her because I don't think I have the right to. Thus, the hollow victory.
I just don't fully understand why he is spending time on her. Until the time I feel that my feelings are no longer biased and I am able to approach this topic rationally once again, I shall reserve my opinions. But frankly, it doesn't take too much to impress me.
So there.
JKLM
Alright, to be fair, it has been a tough day for everyone. And while I had not expected them to be extremely enthusiastic and productive still by the time they had reached their second job site, I certianly had hoped that they wouldn't just sit around and be passive about things.
A few thoughts crossed my mind even before their return. Firstly, there was not informing anyone of the other committment they had on during the earlier part of the day. I guessed as much that their assumption was that someone would inform the others about it. Fine. My next thought was one on fairness / equity: where is your priority? Given that you guys were pretty stubborn about having the dates fixed in their current arrangement, I guess that it was just an unfortunate accident that these two events had to clash. Fine. Perhaps there was an emergency of some sort. Perhaps it was on short notice. Whatever.
Secondly, while I had blamed myself for being overly judgemental when my unoccupied mind drifted through the above thoughts before their arrival, I had a sneeking suspicion that it was going to come true. I didn't really want it to come true, though I knew that there was nothing I could do to prevent it or avoid it in the opposite case. Still, I had expected it to be different, given their earlier stance and sentiments.
So I was right. She was disappointing as usual -- more talk than action, more passive action than active interest. I don't want to judge or blame her because I don't think I have the right to. Thus, the hollow victory.
I just don't fully understand why he is spending time on her. Until the time I feel that my feelings are no longer biased and I am able to approach this topic rationally once again, I shall reserve my opinions. But frankly, it doesn't take too much to impress me.
So there.
JKLM
Sunday, November 27, 2005
A Scent From Her For Him
She reminds me of you.
The way she sat waiting patiently outside the door, calling for me. From the inside, it sounded like a whisper, weaving its way past the loud music and rough noise to my ear.
Can I come in?
I opened the door and she came running in, a playful bounce in her steps.
Hello.
I was on the phone then, and could only afford her a glance. But it was alright, she knew I was different, had a job to do and couldn't multi-task. She could take care of herself.
As if trying to recall her purpose for entering the room, she looked aroudn inquisitively, seeming to suggest that while she had been out I had rearranged th furniture again. I could only afford a silent protest spoken through my eyes as a slipped my hand around her waist. and carried her up.
Hanging up the phone, I noticed that she had finally remembered her purpose -- me. She wanted a cuddle, and wasn't going to leave without getting one. She could not have come at a better time, cos after a busy afternoon, I wasn't going to let her leave without one either. The purr of her breathing soothed both our souls.
Just as gently as she came, she twisted in my arms and stepped out my embrace. I didn't resist, because this was the way she had always been; this was the way we had always been. We lingered at the door for a little longer, both occupying opposite ends of the narrow entrance frame. I looked at her with my casual warmth and she acknowledged with her classy perch.
Off she went, her style raised to my trailing bidding. She gave me a cuddle, and left me with an impression, a lingering scent.
Meet Coco, the resident cuddles of Climb Asia.
She reminds me of you -- snuggler.
JKLM
The way she sat waiting patiently outside the door, calling for me. From the inside, it sounded like a whisper, weaving its way past the loud music and rough noise to my ear.
Can I come in?
I opened the door and she came running in, a playful bounce in her steps.
Hello.
I was on the phone then, and could only afford her a glance. But it was alright, she knew I was different, had a job to do and couldn't multi-task. She could take care of herself.
As if trying to recall her purpose for entering the room, she looked aroudn inquisitively, seeming to suggest that while she had been out I had rearranged th furniture again. I could only afford a silent protest spoken through my eyes as a slipped my hand around her waist. and carried her up.
Hanging up the phone, I noticed that she had finally remembered her purpose -- me. She wanted a cuddle, and wasn't going to leave without getting one. She could not have come at a better time, cos after a busy afternoon, I wasn't going to let her leave without one either. The purr of her breathing soothed both our souls.
Just as gently as she came, she twisted in my arms and stepped out my embrace. I didn't resist, because this was the way she had always been; this was the way we had always been. We lingered at the door for a little longer, both occupying opposite ends of the narrow entrance frame. I looked at her with my casual warmth and she acknowledged with her classy perch.
Off she went, her style raised to my trailing bidding. She gave me a cuddle, and left me with an impression, a lingering scent.
Meet Coco, the resident cuddles of Climb Asia.
She reminds me of you -- snuggler.
JKLM
Friday, November 25, 2005
Revisited
Another late night, 4 a.m. this time.
Was just down at the shop and saw something that reminded me of how we were, our little white cartoned greetings. Smiles came in 1 litre cartons, I never knew.
And now, as I plough these paper fields in efforts to upturn desperate enlightenment, you toss and turn. Your sigh and rustle whispers to me through the chopping of the fan, playing chorus to a techno beat. I only wish that my progress was proceeding at digital whiplash pace; there is still much to be done. At times like these, it seems like I'm running with the darkness, away from the sun, forever towing the horizon, that threshold between light and dark, knowing and oblivion. Always running, but never reaching. We're almost there.
Your notes and little surprises still catch me like they used to -- in pleasant suprise. I don't try to smile, because that's all I can do when I receive them. You should know how these things are. Because just as warmth fills the heart through eyes with the rising of the sun, from your fountain pours forth an essence, a flow and a comfort.
It's my turn to surprise you today. Another carton, just like old times.
Oh, and frankly, I miss your nagging even though it has been all of one day. Believe me, I don't know why either.
JKLM
Was just down at the shop and saw something that reminded me of how we were, our little white cartoned greetings. Smiles came in 1 litre cartons, I never knew.
And now, as I plough these paper fields in efforts to upturn desperate enlightenment, you toss and turn. Your sigh and rustle whispers to me through the chopping of the fan, playing chorus to a techno beat. I only wish that my progress was proceeding at digital whiplash pace; there is still much to be done. At times like these, it seems like I'm running with the darkness, away from the sun, forever towing the horizon, that threshold between light and dark, knowing and oblivion. Always running, but never reaching. We're almost there.
Your notes and little surprises still catch me like they used to -- in pleasant suprise. I don't try to smile, because that's all I can do when I receive them. You should know how these things are. Because just as warmth fills the heart through eyes with the rising of the sun, from your fountain pours forth an essence, a flow and a comfort.
It's my turn to surprise you today. Another carton, just like old times.
Oh, and frankly, I miss your nagging even though it has been all of one day. Believe me, I don't know why either.
JKLM
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