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.

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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:

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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.
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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.

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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