'Where got time?'
It's a phrase often uttered during driving course, and always by people who have already completed or passed a certain stage in their course and always to taunt people who have yet to pass that stage.
I certainly heard it a lot. At the two key stages of the course, I was stuck for a while as I watched everyone else go on without me. In fact it took me eight attempts to pass my driving test. I cannot fathom why except to postulate that ADHD played a major role in carelessness during the test. It was like a replay of the years in school. I had to watch as my peers took off and left and went ahead without me. I watched as all the engineers slowly went back, I watched all my supervisor friends finish and return to the Advance Alley, I watched my coursemates go too. It was a very trying period for me.
Failure is not something tolerated well by this society, it doesn't believe that failure can only encourage learning. You learn the most from your mistakes and failures, no matter how painful, then you ever will from success. Seeing a fire and feeling it's extreme heat upon your fingers is the difference between true understanding and a false one. The pain that shoots through the burnt area and throbs for a week reminds you never to attempt to hold the fire again. However, Failures can also be enjoyable ones, a father who gently corrects his son's attempt to join the wrong pieces of a model plane together will do two things: 1. show his son that learning is fun and 2. build a stronger bond between them. It is of course a balance.
However, failure in this course is akin to getting caught for a petty crime. Failures are ridiculed by peers, pitied by others and a made to do corrective training. I can remember that by the time I failed my seventh attempt I was practically willing to give up. And did I have to a lot to give up. I had one last attempt before I would be re-vocated and loss my promotion with a pay rise and most importantly my pride.
Most of the trainees who go through this course are not very educated people, and here I was the A level student. As much as I am ashamed to admit, I was being rather elitist about the whole thing, at least in my head. I was inclusive and made friends with them, but I despised them for passing first and I despised myself even more for being more capable and not able to pass on my first go.
It's almost a mirror to my education. I felt that I was smarter than my classmates, and the same cycle repeated itself. It was worse though because in school I completely didn't attempt to connect with them at all as I did with my coursemates. To think, had I been the person I am now three years ago, I would probably have had a lot more friends. That said, I was and still am a rather socially awkward person. It is really embarrassing what a big ego and pride can do to you.
The whole experience has been humbling. I wonder if God had a plan for me in this coure. I wouldn't have passed without his help, and I realized that. I wouldn't be able to get anywhere with his grace. He's also made me put my money where my mouth is regarding my ideology of inclusion rather than exclusion. I have made quite a few friends here in the course. In fact, the entire group practically never stopped encouraging me to pass and I am wholly grateful for this! I also think I learned more about leadership during this course than I ever would in OCS. Most importantly, I learned more about humility.
I truly understand the frustrations of the drivers who take a longer time to pass. The short duration between tests sometimes as short as two days. The lack of time for emotional and psychological recovered. The demoralisation of being left behind. The frustration and the stigmatism of being branded a lousy driver despite having clocked the most mileage. Only the good instructors and the testers know who's safer.
This pass is not my own, and you will never ever hear me utter 'Where got time?'
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Speeeeeeech
I wrote a speech for my Grandparents on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Wrote in an hour, so it turned out a bit long because I didn't have time to time it. :/
Having only known Grandpa and Grandma for a very small portion of their married life, there isn’t much that I could really say. Though I must say that this small portion spans my entire life, and that at every step of the way, from diapers to boots and camouflage, they have always been present and never held back their love, encouragement and advice. All of us grandchildren have much to thank them for, after all we wouldn’t be the upstanding young citizens that we are today or have achieved our educational level without their help. We owe them a great deal, so I would like to thank them for a few things.
Firstly, Grandpa, Grandma, thank you so much for teaching us. All of will forever remember the huge effort and time that you put in to make sure that we pass our examinations and tests reasonably well. In fact, the four older ones would agree with me, that we owe it all to you for getting all of us in to good secondary schools.
Grandma, we all remember the hours that we spent sitting at the table, piled with Chinese textbooks and assessment books, inside your room, as Grandma attempted to teach us Chinese. Xuo yi, wo men ke yi jiang hua yi yi tian tian. That was a very trying period for all us, with Grandma desperately trying to keep our attention and drill in the ting xie for the week and, of course, us, desperately trying to get away, that was until she locked the latched in the upper right hand corner of the door, preventing any opportunities to escape. When we didn’t behave, we would meet the feather duster. Think Ip Man with the feather duster. Though, Grandma could probably beat him one on one. We were all lucky of course, that Grandma wasn’t as strict with us as she when Mummy, Aunty Cc and Aunty Ba were children. Despite her strictness, as Aunty Alice always says, “Your grandmother has a heart of gold”, when we behaved ourselves, we would be rewarded with trips to NTUC for a treat, chocolates and with money.. I’m pretty sure that the whole thing probably took a few years from Grandma, but she still did it. Thank you very much Grandma, the four of us passed our PSLE Chinese sufficiently well because you. Though, we would like to say sorry for ultimately failing and dropping the subject for CLB before the end of secondary school.
While Grandma toiled to teach us Chinese, Grandpa had a bit more success with our English. Without him, I don’t think any of us would have been able to master the language with competency that we have. He took the time to patiently sit down and teach us everything about grammar, from past tense, to future continuous perfect. We know our adverbs from our verbs and nouns from our pronouns. Grandpa is probably also responsible for our interest in literature. Whether we realize it our not, the four older ones are all avid readers, two of us actually took literature at A levels. I remember he would always animatedly read us stories and sometimes changed the plots a little to tease us, this usually occurred him coming into the story and stealing the limelight from the protagonist, much to our naïve horror.
So there is no doubt, that they are the contractors who hammered in the pillars of our academic foundation. This isn’t the only thing they did. They also taught us many things about generousity, love and devotion through their excellent example. Grandma prayed the rosary everyday, and everytime we stayed over at their house because our parents were overseas, she never allowed us once to forget to say our morning and night prayers. In the afternoons, Grandpa would always make us cups of milo and garlic bread from homemade garlic butter that grandma had painstakingly prepared. They also made sure we had enough money, giving us vitamin M when they came over for dinners or what not. We couldn’t do anything but reluctantly accept.
This generosity extended beyond the family as well. Any lucky chap who happened to have the opportunity to enter that small cosy apartment was always greeted with great hospitality. When there were guests, they would always be seated at the sofa with a glass of orange squash or beer and be happily contented with good conversation. It’s no surprise that despite the painful memories of studying, we still love to go to visit our grandparents when the opportunity arises.
Most importantly, they gave us their time. They never failed to ferry us to and fro from school, to dental appointments, ballet classes, bowling practice, rugby practice or send us home. When we got older, they were and still are always willing to provide us with transportation whenever we called, without any questions asked, and never reluctantly provided. Grandpa and Grandma also never failed to give us advice, provide a listening ear and encouragement as well interesting stories from their childhood and opinions about the current state of politics.
They continue to teach us about love. In this day and age where the news is fraught with stories of increasing divorce rates and you hear of marriages not lasting for more than five years, Grandpa and Grandma have managed to do ten times better, they have been married for 50 years. Not only that, they have been through a war, raised three daughters and four rowdy raucous grandchildren and are still raising another four more! Such a feat would not be possible without love. It mustn’t have been easy either, mixed marriages were frowned upon in those days, yet you managed to pull through. We can only hope that when our time comes, we will be blessed with such longevity too. Grandma, Grandpa, you truly have followed Christ’s example throughout your lives, and continue to lead us to his light in your example.
Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for the love and care that you gave to us, and for making us who we are today. I pray that you continue to have many years to come and outlive us all!
Having only known Grandpa and Grandma for a very small portion of their married life, there isn’t much that I could really say. Though I must say that this small portion spans my entire life, and that at every step of the way, from diapers to boots and camouflage, they have always been present and never held back their love, encouragement and advice. All of us grandchildren have much to thank them for, after all we wouldn’t be the upstanding young citizens that we are today or have achieved our educational level without their help. We owe them a great deal, so I would like to thank them for a few things.
Firstly, Grandpa, Grandma, thank you so much for teaching us. All of will forever remember the huge effort and time that you put in to make sure that we pass our examinations and tests reasonably well. In fact, the four older ones would agree with me, that we owe it all to you for getting all of us in to good secondary schools.
Grandma, we all remember the hours that we spent sitting at the table, piled with Chinese textbooks and assessment books, inside your room, as Grandma attempted to teach us Chinese. Xuo yi, wo men ke yi jiang hua yi yi tian tian. That was a very trying period for all us, with Grandma desperately trying to keep our attention and drill in the ting xie for the week and, of course, us, desperately trying to get away, that was until she locked the latched in the upper right hand corner of the door, preventing any opportunities to escape. When we didn’t behave, we would meet the feather duster. Think Ip Man with the feather duster. Though, Grandma could probably beat him one on one. We were all lucky of course, that Grandma wasn’t as strict with us as she when Mummy, Aunty Cc and Aunty Ba were children. Despite her strictness, as Aunty Alice always says, “Your grandmother has a heart of gold”, when we behaved ourselves, we would be rewarded with trips to NTUC for a treat, chocolates and with money.. I’m pretty sure that the whole thing probably took a few years from Grandma, but she still did it. Thank you very much Grandma, the four of us passed our PSLE Chinese sufficiently well because you. Though, we would like to say sorry for ultimately failing and dropping the subject for CLB before the end of secondary school.
While Grandma toiled to teach us Chinese, Grandpa had a bit more success with our English. Without him, I don’t think any of us would have been able to master the language with competency that we have. He took the time to patiently sit down and teach us everything about grammar, from past tense, to future continuous perfect. We know our adverbs from our verbs and nouns from our pronouns. Grandpa is probably also responsible for our interest in literature. Whether we realize it our not, the four older ones are all avid readers, two of us actually took literature at A levels. I remember he would always animatedly read us stories and sometimes changed the plots a little to tease us, this usually occurred him coming into the story and stealing the limelight from the protagonist, much to our naïve horror.
So there is no doubt, that they are the contractors who hammered in the pillars of our academic foundation. This isn’t the only thing they did. They also taught us many things about generousity, love and devotion through their excellent example. Grandma prayed the rosary everyday, and everytime we stayed over at their house because our parents were overseas, she never allowed us once to forget to say our morning and night prayers. In the afternoons, Grandpa would always make us cups of milo and garlic bread from homemade garlic butter that grandma had painstakingly prepared. They also made sure we had enough money, giving us vitamin M when they came over for dinners or what not. We couldn’t do anything but reluctantly accept.
This generosity extended beyond the family as well. Any lucky chap who happened to have the opportunity to enter that small cosy apartment was always greeted with great hospitality. When there were guests, they would always be seated at the sofa with a glass of orange squash or beer and be happily contented with good conversation. It’s no surprise that despite the painful memories of studying, we still love to go to visit our grandparents when the opportunity arises.
Most importantly, they gave us their time. They never failed to ferry us to and fro from school, to dental appointments, ballet classes, bowling practice, rugby practice or send us home. When we got older, they were and still are always willing to provide us with transportation whenever we called, without any questions asked, and never reluctantly provided. Grandpa and Grandma also never failed to give us advice, provide a listening ear and encouragement as well interesting stories from their childhood and opinions about the current state of politics.
They continue to teach us about love. In this day and age where the news is fraught with stories of increasing divorce rates and you hear of marriages not lasting for more than five years, Grandpa and Grandma have managed to do ten times better, they have been married for 50 years. Not only that, they have been through a war, raised three daughters and four rowdy raucous grandchildren and are still raising another four more! Such a feat would not be possible without love. It mustn’t have been easy either, mixed marriages were frowned upon in those days, yet you managed to pull through. We can only hope that when our time comes, we will be blessed with such longevity too. Grandma, Grandpa, you truly have followed Christ’s example throughout your lives, and continue to lead us to his light in your example.
Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for the love and care that you gave to us, and for making us who we are today. I pray that you continue to have many years to come and outlive us all!
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Confessions of an Anti-Choice Fanatic.
Dear friends,
I want to share this pro-life article with you. It's written by ethicist and theologian Dr Matthew Flanagan. in it he logically confronts the arguments put across by the pro-choice pro-abortionists with some rather interesting viewpoints. It is a rather entertaining read.
http://www.mandm.org.nz/2010/01/contra-mundum-confessions-of-an-anti-choice-fanatic.html
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The Kite Song Girl
Two years ago, I was blessed to intern for Dr Gerald Koh, Asst/Professor of then Department of Occupational and Family Medicine(since renamed dept. of epidemiology). The job provided me with renewed inspiration to pursue medicine, as well as new role model and inspiration in the Prof about what a Doctor should be. However, that is a story for another day, what is more significant is that his set of a chain of very interesting events. I interned for the Prof during the month of December, so he was nice enough to give me a book called Kite Song. It was written by a then second year medical Student named Tan Wai Jia who was a missionary raising money for an orphanage in Nepal. It was an inspirational story about a little girl and her kite, unfortunately I have since embarrassingly misplaced the book so I cannot properly recall the plot. I won't because I don't want to embarrass myself further, but it had very cute pictures.
Two years later, I was having lit tuition with Ben at the National Library, we were in the middle of discussing one of my failed attempts to conjure up a GP essay(I was unskilled then, however I have since resolved that deficit) when an old man suddenly appeared and commented on my copy of Great Expectations strewn upon the table. He was delighted that some of the young were still taking delight in the joys of literary classics. He introduced himself as Hideo Asano, he was a homeless wondering author and poet who travelled the world writing stories and poems, living on generosity and sleeping in airports. Naturally, that was the end of our literature lesson and we offered him a seat. He is an interesting man, a japanese who speaks very fluent English and distances himself from his cultural heritage for their lack of individuality due to their constricting systems. We talked about mostly about philosophy and literature and then we parted ways. I went home that night, and I googled him in hopes of checking his authencity and out of curiousity(how often does one get accosted by a homeless wandering philosopher?) and that is when I stumbled upon her blog.
It turns out that Wai Jia had also met Hideo a year before and had blogged about it in her, blog. Her posts greatly intrigued me, they deal with the struggles she faces in life, balancing God, mission, school and many other things, unlike the bland uninspired blogs of most young people, and she overcomes them in a most inspirational way. Naturally, I was also delighted to discover that there are other people out there who blog long essays like me and so I have followed her since then. (You should too, I never fail to be taken in by her entries.)
Flash forward to 2009, I had fortunate opportunity to acquire some money without prior work. I found $50 on the floor of the loading bay at camp one morning, and living with a bunch of crooks, I realized that I wouldn't be able to return it to the rightful owner, so I decided that I would donate it. A week later, after Mass, I was caught with my grandparents in the middle of the large downpour, I offered to run to the car and get umbrellas, I am the impatient sort and didn't really want to wait until the rain stopped. So I ran them, got soaked and retrieved the two umbrellas from the car and returned. I gave on to grandpa to bring grandma to shelter and I used to other to help ferry the other poor stranded souls from the porch to the other building. In reward, my grandmother gave me(or forced into my hand) $50, which I knew I couldn't keep for myself, so I decided to donate this as well. And as fate would have it, Wai Jia had recently blogged about Alisha, a deaf nepalese girl who needed a cochlear implant and whom Wai Jia had taken out the mountain of a task to raise funds for. I also thought I would help her financially with Zhou Yeh Yeh, a basker who she is very close to and whose medical bills she pays, as she was broke and I felt she deserved a break. This, I decided would be where I would place the money that was entrusted to me.
I did and was delightfully surprised when asked me if I'd like to meet for a repast. And so begins my story for the evening. This is the longest introduction I have ever written, and pardon me for my verbiage, I just didn't see any way I could fully explain the story. And so now the story actually begins.
Its a very special experience to meet some inspirational up close and personal, it's very different from reading their works. They have an effect on you whether you know it or not. The meal took place a few weeks ago, and as I said, it was an experience. How often does someone agree to meet stranger for a meal? I must say I was rather nervous and excited. All those questions were flooding my mind, what sort of person is she really? What does she look like? What does she talk like? Luckily, I wasn't the only person with those thoughts. She admitted later to having the impression that I was a tall skinny(I wish)nerdy weird kid with purple shoes right out of one those civics and moral education textbook that they have since removed from the primary school syllabus. We met and and exchanged greetings and a handshake and proceeded to look for dinner, finally settling on the food court at Funan mall owing to a mutual lack of funds and no desire to eat junk food.
As I said earlier, inspirational people have an effect on you, as we walked to Funan, she stopped to make conversation with two people selling tissue paper outside the MRT station's exit. They were members of St. Andrew's Cathedral. She inquired about another one, an Uncle Andrew, whom I would meet later. I remember being very awed by how easily she did it. These are the people that thousands of businessmen and corporate women walk past everyday, men and women leaders in their fields, yet how many of them would have the courage to stop and do what she does? Of course you could say they would brush it off as beneath them, but in truth it's out of their comfort zone. I would know, I'm amongst those people who have yet to step out of that zone.
Its interesting how a small act can really brighten these people's lives. The money is a necessity but its the kindness that lifts them. I could see they were quite happy to talk to her. I wonder how many people talk to them? And she tries to do this with every one of them she meets. You can see why I was quite taken aback. I guess that it's something that I would like to work on. Its a duty as a Christian to help the rest of God's children. I can talk on about pro-life, but how pro-life would I be if I allowed these people to starve on the street, when a small donation would help them?
And it wasn't just her generosity and kindness that amazed me, she had the ability to see God's hand working in her life, I, being the blind fool, honestly wouldn't have seen any of the connections that she brought up. She said that it was God that allowed us to meet, that he had 'taken [my] good deed and multiplied it into another'. It reminded me of the parable of the Talents. If you use what talents God has given you, he will multiply even them more. That is what happened to the first two servants. Alas, there is a third servant, who buried his single talent in the ground, and when the master returned, the servant was punished for wasting the talent when he could have at least put in the bank for interest. All my life, I have and I think many of us as well have been caught up with identifying with the third servant. Afraid that we are not living up to standards, wasting our God given talents. We have inadvertently fallen into a trap, and in doing so have ended selfishly burying our talents into the ground to be friends with worms. In identifying with the third servant and in our desire to avoid the master's castigation, we have become him. I think it also extends to not giving the master appropriate credit. After all, the talents were from him. This is what happened to me here, I was blind to his hand, and because of them I couldn't give him the praise that is his. I guess even if you invest the talents and make returns, it doesn't help if you bury them in the ground and do not return them to the master.
Maybe, I'm rambling a bit. Synapses firing in their disconnected ADHD way again. I'm not sure, but I was really touched that night, because I had also been praying for a while, to see God in my life more, and I was granted that. Thank you Wai Jia, I can now see God working in my life more evidently now and thank you for the lessons you continue to teach people.
Two years later, I was having lit tuition with Ben at the National Library, we were in the middle of discussing one of my failed attempts to conjure up a GP essay(I was unskilled then, however I have since resolved that deficit) when an old man suddenly appeared and commented on my copy of Great Expectations strewn upon the table. He was delighted that some of the young were still taking delight in the joys of literary classics. He introduced himself as Hideo Asano, he was a homeless wondering author and poet who travelled the world writing stories and poems, living on generosity and sleeping in airports. Naturally, that was the end of our literature lesson and we offered him a seat. He is an interesting man, a japanese who speaks very fluent English and distances himself from his cultural heritage for their lack of individuality due to their constricting systems. We talked about mostly about philosophy and literature and then we parted ways. I went home that night, and I googled him in hopes of checking his authencity and out of curiousity(how often does one get accosted by a homeless wandering philosopher?) and that is when I stumbled upon her blog.
It turns out that Wai Jia had also met Hideo a year before and had blogged about it in her, blog. Her posts greatly intrigued me, they deal with the struggles she faces in life, balancing God, mission, school and many other things, unlike the bland uninspired blogs of most young people, and she overcomes them in a most inspirational way. Naturally, I was also delighted to discover that there are other people out there who blog long essays like me and so I have followed her since then. (You should too, I never fail to be taken in by her entries.)
Flash forward to 2009, I had fortunate opportunity to acquire some money without prior work. I found $50 on the floor of the loading bay at camp one morning, and living with a bunch of crooks, I realized that I wouldn't be able to return it to the rightful owner, so I decided that I would donate it. A week later, after Mass, I was caught with my grandparents in the middle of the large downpour, I offered to run to the car and get umbrellas, I am the impatient sort and didn't really want to wait until the rain stopped. So I ran them, got soaked and retrieved the two umbrellas from the car and returned. I gave on to grandpa to bring grandma to shelter and I used to other to help ferry the other poor stranded souls from the porch to the other building. In reward, my grandmother gave me(or forced into my hand) $50, which I knew I couldn't keep for myself, so I decided to donate this as well. And as fate would have it, Wai Jia had recently blogged about Alisha, a deaf nepalese girl who needed a cochlear implant and whom Wai Jia had taken out the mountain of a task to raise funds for. I also thought I would help her financially with Zhou Yeh Yeh, a basker who she is very close to and whose medical bills she pays, as she was broke and I felt she deserved a break. This, I decided would be where I would place the money that was entrusted to me.
I did and was delightfully surprised when asked me if I'd like to meet for a repast. And so begins my story for the evening. This is the longest introduction I have ever written, and pardon me for my verbiage, I just didn't see any way I could fully explain the story. And so now the story actually begins.
Its a very special experience to meet some inspirational up close and personal, it's very different from reading their works. They have an effect on you whether you know it or not. The meal took place a few weeks ago, and as I said, it was an experience. How often does someone agree to meet stranger for a meal? I must say I was rather nervous and excited. All those questions were flooding my mind, what sort of person is she really? What does she look like? What does she talk like? Luckily, I wasn't the only person with those thoughts. She admitted later to having the impression that I was a tall skinny(I wish)nerdy weird kid with purple shoes right out of one those civics and moral education textbook that they have since removed from the primary school syllabus. We met and and exchanged greetings and a handshake and proceeded to look for dinner, finally settling on the food court at Funan mall owing to a mutual lack of funds and no desire to eat junk food.
As I said earlier, inspirational people have an effect on you, as we walked to Funan, she stopped to make conversation with two people selling tissue paper outside the MRT station's exit. They were members of St. Andrew's Cathedral. She inquired about another one, an Uncle Andrew, whom I would meet later. I remember being very awed by how easily she did it. These are the people that thousands of businessmen and corporate women walk past everyday, men and women leaders in their fields, yet how many of them would have the courage to stop and do what she does? Of course you could say they would brush it off as beneath them, but in truth it's out of their comfort zone. I would know, I'm amongst those people who have yet to step out of that zone.
Its interesting how a small act can really brighten these people's lives. The money is a necessity but its the kindness that lifts them. I could see they were quite happy to talk to her. I wonder how many people talk to them? And she tries to do this with every one of them she meets. You can see why I was quite taken aback. I guess that it's something that I would like to work on. Its a duty as a Christian to help the rest of God's children. I can talk on about pro-life, but how pro-life would I be if I allowed these people to starve on the street, when a small donation would help them?
And it wasn't just her generosity and kindness that amazed me, she had the ability to see God's hand working in her life, I, being the blind fool, honestly wouldn't have seen any of the connections that she brought up. She said that it was God that allowed us to meet, that he had 'taken [my] good deed and multiplied it into another'. It reminded me of the parable of the Talents. If you use what talents God has given you, he will multiply even them more. That is what happened to the first two servants. Alas, there is a third servant, who buried his single talent in the ground, and when the master returned, the servant was punished for wasting the talent when he could have at least put in the bank for interest. All my life, I have and I think many of us as well have been caught up with identifying with the third servant. Afraid that we are not living up to standards, wasting our God given talents. We have inadvertently fallen into a trap, and in doing so have ended selfishly burying our talents into the ground to be friends with worms. In identifying with the third servant and in our desire to avoid the master's castigation, we have become him. I think it also extends to not giving the master appropriate credit. After all, the talents were from him. This is what happened to me here, I was blind to his hand, and because of them I couldn't give him the praise that is his. I guess even if you invest the talents and make returns, it doesn't help if you bury them in the ground and do not return them to the master.
Maybe, I'm rambling a bit. Synapses firing in their disconnected ADHD way again. I'm not sure, but I was really touched that night, because I had also been praying for a while, to see God in my life more, and I was granted that. Thank you Wai Jia, I can now see God working in my life more evidently now and thank you for the lessons you continue to teach people.
A Quiet Christmas.
A year ago, I was conscripted into slavery abroad the machine known as... well you know what is. It still sounds like a local militia than an all powerful army, no matter how you attempt to glorify it. A year ago, I was robbed of my Christmas. I spent the entire advent in camp, amidst secularity and the inefficiency of the whole system, I couldn't adequately prepare for the great Feast of the Nativity, and I must say that I suffered a poor spiritual Christmas. All this probably added to low morale I felt throughout all of basic training. Most of all, I didn't have enough time to be with the people I cared for. I felt really lonely.
One year on, and despite being in a more retarded and inefficiently run course than basic training, I have since recovered from my depression and I have had a most enjoyable year. This time I made the resolve to prepare spiritually for advent, though I didn't really achieve what I set out to, it is a marked improvement from last year. Also, the week of medical leave following the excision of Bob, my uvula, from my throat helped things greatly.
To be honest, I didn't receive many gifts this year and I didn't receive anything material that I went 'wow' about. I was given a few CDs, a polo, a lovely pair of shoes and a shoe bag. I can't actually recall a time in my life where people actually got me something that made me jump for joy in appreciation. That probably means, people don't know me well enough to shop for me. Which is okay, I am admittedly a difficult child to profile. Though, I am long past the childhood stage of desiring to be given lots of material things during Christmas, gifts, or the idea of gift giving is very important to me.
You see, gifts are a very important thing in society. They are form a recognition. You give someone a gift in order to recognize their significance in your life. Society plays this up to a much larger formal extent, award ceremonies are held and recognition in the form awards are given to individuals in front of the whole society. So, gifts are our little ways of remembering the ones near and dear to us. Which is why the choice of the gift is always important, and should always be thoughtfully chosen and carefully selected for the needs or wants of the recipient. Hence, knowing the recipient is important. The better you know the recipient, the better you should be able to chose a gift for the person. Hence, I feel it is really sad when gift giving becomes a routine chore, for example at Christmas time. We have lists of people that we need to buy gifts for, and not want to buy or make gifts for. In our haste to clear the list, along with the mindless secular shopping that goes on along with this season, we end up just buying things thoughtlessly. Do not get me wrong, I am not being ingrateful, I am very thankful for the gifts I have received, particularly that I am remembered at all, however this is the standard at which I hold gift giving, and yes it is a strain to think of people carefully, but I feel it makes the gift all that more special, it makes the relationship all that more special.
There is another thing I realized about gifts, they don't always need be material. If you count the non-material gifts that I've received this Christmas, then I am very richly blessed. And yes, I do count these gifts. Particularly, the gift of your time.
As I said, I don't receive many 'official' gifts during Christmas, I don't have that many close enough friends. Also, my friends are all the non-working type, so I don't expect much, though I do expect myself to remember these people, even if it taxes me financially. So due to the course this year, I was temporally in deficit and I completely had forgotten about Christmas shopping until the eve of Christmas, but I realized that I had traded more gifts than I had any other Christmas this year. I had the probably one of the most valuable ones. That of time. Every moment that I was out, I spent it with friends and family as much as possible. I think that was the best gift to receive, those moments can never disappear now, because I will remember the fun that we had, the dialogue that went on, the catching up and the laughter, oh and the zombies. I think that was the one thing during Advent that I fulfilled, I spent time with friends and family, building stronger bonds. I met new ones too.
This year was quiet, possibly because of slavery, possibly because I had no parties to attend. Though it was rather quiet itself on Christmas day, the days that afore that and that followed were filled with activities.
I had already met up with Gerald, my ex-boss, who is one of the most inspirational doctors out there. I had a made a new friend, a very blessed and inspirational girl named Wai Jia, who raises lots of money to help orphans in Nepal and is in fourth year of medical school, I can't really decide which she does in her spare time. Jonathan was brought back from the airport, and the zombies once again feared us. I caught Sherlock Holmes with the aforementioned best friend and Marie, Michelle and Justin. It is wonderful to have such a lovely extended family. I caught Mr Holmes again(because it is so good, you must go watch NOW) with the other extend family of RCIY. Alone with a great RCIY dinner. We celebrated my brother and sister's birthdays. Snuck in a much needed latin lesson. I caught the Bowen in between his extras. Christmas dinner and lunch with the two sides of the family. The list is endless, well not really, however I am beginning to sound like a teenage schoolgirl which is quite appalling. I have so much to thank God for this Christmas. I would also like to thank the aforementioned for the most precious gift of time which you have most graciously provided me with.
You can never have enough laughter. Thank you.
Felix dies nativitatis Iesus Christi
Christus natus est! Glorificate eum!
One year on, and despite being in a more retarded and inefficiently run course than basic training, I have since recovered from my depression and I have had a most enjoyable year. This time I made the resolve to prepare spiritually for advent, though I didn't really achieve what I set out to, it is a marked improvement from last year. Also, the week of medical leave following the excision of Bob, my uvula, from my throat helped things greatly.
To be honest, I didn't receive many gifts this year and I didn't receive anything material that I went 'wow' about. I was given a few CDs, a polo, a lovely pair of shoes and a shoe bag. I can't actually recall a time in my life where people actually got me something that made me jump for joy in appreciation. That probably means, people don't know me well enough to shop for me. Which is okay, I am admittedly a difficult child to profile. Though, I am long past the childhood stage of desiring to be given lots of material things during Christmas, gifts, or the idea of gift giving is very important to me.
You see, gifts are a very important thing in society. They are form a recognition. You give someone a gift in order to recognize their significance in your life. Society plays this up to a much larger formal extent, award ceremonies are held and recognition in the form awards are given to individuals in front of the whole society. So, gifts are our little ways of remembering the ones near and dear to us. Which is why the choice of the gift is always important, and should always be thoughtfully chosen and carefully selected for the needs or wants of the recipient. Hence, knowing the recipient is important. The better you know the recipient, the better you should be able to chose a gift for the person. Hence, I feel it is really sad when gift giving becomes a routine chore, for example at Christmas time. We have lists of people that we need to buy gifts for, and not want to buy or make gifts for. In our haste to clear the list, along with the mindless secular shopping that goes on along with this season, we end up just buying things thoughtlessly. Do not get me wrong, I am not being ingrateful, I am very thankful for the gifts I have received, particularly that I am remembered at all, however this is the standard at which I hold gift giving, and yes it is a strain to think of people carefully, but I feel it makes the gift all that more special, it makes the relationship all that more special.
There is another thing I realized about gifts, they don't always need be material. If you count the non-material gifts that I've received this Christmas, then I am very richly blessed. And yes, I do count these gifts. Particularly, the gift of your time.
As I said, I don't receive many 'official' gifts during Christmas, I don't have that many close enough friends. Also, my friends are all the non-working type, so I don't expect much, though I do expect myself to remember these people, even if it taxes me financially. So due to the course this year, I was temporally in deficit and I completely had forgotten about Christmas shopping until the eve of Christmas, but I realized that I had traded more gifts than I had any other Christmas this year. I had the probably one of the most valuable ones. That of time. Every moment that I was out, I spent it with friends and family as much as possible. I think that was the best gift to receive, those moments can never disappear now, because I will remember the fun that we had, the dialogue that went on, the catching up and the laughter, oh and the zombies. I think that was the one thing during Advent that I fulfilled, I spent time with friends and family, building stronger bonds. I met new ones too.
This year was quiet, possibly because of slavery, possibly because I had no parties to attend. Though it was rather quiet itself on Christmas day, the days that afore that and that followed were filled with activities.
I had already met up with Gerald, my ex-boss, who is one of the most inspirational doctors out there. I had a made a new friend, a very blessed and inspirational girl named Wai Jia, who raises lots of money to help orphans in Nepal and is in fourth year of medical school, I can't really decide which she does in her spare time. Jonathan was brought back from the airport, and the zombies once again feared us. I caught Sherlock Holmes with the aforementioned best friend and Marie, Michelle and Justin. It is wonderful to have such a lovely extended family. I caught Mr Holmes again(because it is so good, you must go watch NOW) with the other extend family of RCIY. Alone with a great RCIY dinner. We celebrated my brother and sister's birthdays. Snuck in a much needed latin lesson. I caught the Bowen in between his extras. Christmas dinner and lunch with the two sides of the family. The list is endless, well not really, however I am beginning to sound like a teenage schoolgirl which is quite appalling. I have so much to thank God for this Christmas. I would also like to thank the aforementioned for the most precious gift of time which you have most graciously provided me with.
You can never have enough laughter. Thank you.
Felix dies nativitatis Iesus Christi
Christus natus est! Glorificate eum!
For the earlier
I apologize for the bad writing in the previous post. I actually wrote the article while in camp and upon rewriting it on the computer, I realised the great error with that decision. Please pardon all the grammatical errors and the dreadful sentence structure of the first few paragraphs. Clearly laziness is the root of all this and I will try my best to avoid penning essays in camp again.
Lessons.
Three weeks ago, bible study was cancelled and we were asked to help out with a selling things to raise funds for Kenyan children. The whole things was arranged by Aunty P and Aunty J, but Aunty J was hospitalised and so Aunty V took over and hence the Youth rockers were asked to help. Well, we were only plural because two of us turned up.
Anyway, I don't know what is about me that moved me to burn the entire morning to sell unsuspecting parishioners Kenyan beads and overpriced bars of Hershey's. To be truthful, poverty is not really high on my list of things to champion. This, I am quite ashamed to admit. Poverty is probably the easiest social issue for anyone to take up and do something about. I don't need to quote GP and stats for anyone to figure that out. In fact, the poor are always under our noses! When was the last time you stopped to buy tissue paper from the beggar at the MRT station or along the underpass or while walking down the street?
Chances are, it's been a while. I only know two people who do it personally, and neither are myself, though I am hoping that will change. The point is, I wouldn't be the person organising this sort of charity event. So why was I there along? I guess God wanted to make use of my charm for raising funds and to teach me something as well. I think I really learned something that day.
1. I am amazed at the generosity of St. Ignatians, I really didn't expect them to donate more than was necessary for a bar of overpriced Hershey's for their children, yet they surprised me in more ways than one. One lady pushed a wad of fifties into collection box, while many others gave a fifty and refused the change(the bars were $5). It was amazing. What was more amazing were the children. Aunty V gave them little bookmarks with charming face of Mtoto, a five year old boy and little inscription that $2 could feed Mtoto for 4 lunches. They ran back to their parents and either brought back lunch money for Mtoto or their parents to provide lunch money for him. I felt that they sincerely wanted to help provide food for Mtoto, because I hadn't told them about the chocolate yet, and I was quite pleased to see their elated expressions when presented with a bar, granted Mummy allowed it. Positive reinforcement working at its best, altruism provides good feelings. Now they'll probably keep at it and hopefully when they're older they'll understand the profoundness of their little acts of human kindness.
That wasn't the most amazing part, it was when some of the children(btw they were all in primary school) took out their own wallets and gave their own money. I felt so bad, because as an NSF, and as a student before that and student to be, I know what it's like to barely have enough money to last a week or month and yet here these primary school children were using their very precious pocket money to buy Mtoto and other Kenyans food. I was hoping they would ask their parents for money or something and it is these feelings that I commented in passing to Aunty only to surprisingly receive a censuring. She said, 'We mustn't stop the little ones from receiving graces in heaven. When they donate, they will go hungry in school for a day and they will learn something about poverty. They will understand the plight of the poor.'
I was rather taken aback. Two things rang like alarm bells in my head, the first was the verse 'let the little ones come to me.'. In my desire not to inconvenience the little ones, I had inadvertently almost repeated the apostles' good intention. I was denying them from getting closer to Christ. I was also denying them indulgences. Of course, I changed my course of mind completely, and following this epiphany, went about directly asking and hoping the children would make sacrifices of themselves. Children are wonderful things aren't they?
The second thing I realized was that I was denying them a valuable lesson about sacrifice(if Mummy and Daddy didn't intervene to help them). Like Aunty V mentioned, going hungry for a day would allow them to learn the feelings of Kenyans, of all the poor and those in poverty, who go through malnourished days wondering when their next real meal would be. Often times, it isn't even a proper meal. In some small way, they would soon have a spot for the poor in their hearts, thus prompting them, I hope, to repeat the altruism again.
2. The second thing I learned was something interesting Aunty P said to me, 'So you want to be a doctor? That's very good my dear. I shall pray for you to become a doctor. No. I shall pray that it is WITHIN God's plan that you become a doctor.'
It got me thinking, I've thought about it before, and as always when some statement such as this does, cause you to review the thread of thought. It is a rather dream-breaking thought for anyone who has a dream that he has yet to materialise:
What if God doesn't want me to be a doctor?
It is a rather depressing thought for me, because I sincerely do not believe that I will be as contented or challenged doing anything else. And to all who think I have a one track mind, I have toyed with other career ideas, but none don't fit as well, none balance my great love for science and logical reasoning with the curiousity of the creature called Man, and my desire to heal his ailments. Yet what if that isn't what God wanted me to do. If I resisted, could I still make it to medical school? Would I never make it? Would I be happy? Will I ever make it since I've been sidetracked so long and the road is still dark and winding? What am I supposed to do. A million other queries brush aside any logical answer that quells the previous few.
All I know is that God has a plan for us, and I have made the choice to place my life in his hands, so I hope that what I desire is part of his plan. I also know that he only gives me a cross that is light enough for me to carry without my back breaking, so that I will learn lessons and skills in order to carry out his will. I guess that is in essence what Aunty P's words meant, that I will do the best I can and leave the rest up to God, and if it doesn't work, to move on and find my true purpose. I just hope I won't ever have to give up this dream.
Anyway, I don't know what is about me that moved me to burn the entire morning to sell unsuspecting parishioners Kenyan beads and overpriced bars of Hershey's. To be truthful, poverty is not really high on my list of things to champion. This, I am quite ashamed to admit. Poverty is probably the easiest social issue for anyone to take up and do something about. I don't need to quote GP and stats for anyone to figure that out. In fact, the poor are always under our noses! When was the last time you stopped to buy tissue paper from the beggar at the MRT station or along the underpass or while walking down the street?
Chances are, it's been a while. I only know two people who do it personally, and neither are myself, though I am hoping that will change. The point is, I wouldn't be the person organising this sort of charity event. So why was I there along? I guess God wanted to make use of my charm for raising funds and to teach me something as well. I think I really learned something that day.
1. I am amazed at the generosity of St. Ignatians, I really didn't expect them to donate more than was necessary for a bar of overpriced Hershey's for their children, yet they surprised me in more ways than one. One lady pushed a wad of fifties into collection box, while many others gave a fifty and refused the change(the bars were $5). It was amazing. What was more amazing were the children. Aunty V gave them little bookmarks with charming face of Mtoto, a five year old boy and little inscription that $2 could feed Mtoto for 4 lunches. They ran back to their parents and either brought back lunch money for Mtoto or their parents to provide lunch money for him. I felt that they sincerely wanted to help provide food for Mtoto, because I hadn't told them about the chocolate yet, and I was quite pleased to see their elated expressions when presented with a bar, granted Mummy allowed it. Positive reinforcement working at its best, altruism provides good feelings. Now they'll probably keep at it and hopefully when they're older they'll understand the profoundness of their little acts of human kindness.
That wasn't the most amazing part, it was when some of the children(btw they were all in primary school) took out their own wallets and gave their own money. I felt so bad, because as an NSF, and as a student before that and student to be, I know what it's like to barely have enough money to last a week or month and yet here these primary school children were using their very precious pocket money to buy Mtoto and other Kenyans food. I was hoping they would ask their parents for money or something and it is these feelings that I commented in passing to Aunty only to surprisingly receive a censuring. She said, 'We mustn't stop the little ones from receiving graces in heaven. When they donate, they will go hungry in school for a day and they will learn something about poverty. They will understand the plight of the poor.'
I was rather taken aback. Two things rang like alarm bells in my head, the first was the verse 'let the little ones come to me.'. In my desire not to inconvenience the little ones, I had inadvertently almost repeated the apostles' good intention. I was denying them from getting closer to Christ. I was also denying them indulgences. Of course, I changed my course of mind completely, and following this epiphany, went about directly asking and hoping the children would make sacrifices of themselves. Children are wonderful things aren't they?
The second thing I realized was that I was denying them a valuable lesson about sacrifice(if Mummy and Daddy didn't intervene to help them). Like Aunty V mentioned, going hungry for a day would allow them to learn the feelings of Kenyans, of all the poor and those in poverty, who go through malnourished days wondering when their next real meal would be. Often times, it isn't even a proper meal. In some small way, they would soon have a spot for the poor in their hearts, thus prompting them, I hope, to repeat the altruism again.
2. The second thing I learned was something interesting Aunty P said to me, 'So you want to be a doctor? That's very good my dear. I shall pray for you to become a doctor. No. I shall pray that it is WITHIN God's plan that you become a doctor.'
It got me thinking, I've thought about it before, and as always when some statement such as this does, cause you to review the thread of thought. It is a rather dream-breaking thought for anyone who has a dream that he has yet to materialise:
What if God doesn't want me to be a doctor?
It is a rather depressing thought for me, because I sincerely do not believe that I will be as contented or challenged doing anything else. And to all who think I have a one track mind, I have toyed with other career ideas, but none don't fit as well, none balance my great love for science and logical reasoning with the curiousity of the creature called Man, and my desire to heal his ailments. Yet what if that isn't what God wanted me to do. If I resisted, could I still make it to medical school? Would I never make it? Would I be happy? Will I ever make it since I've been sidetracked so long and the road is still dark and winding? What am I supposed to do. A million other queries brush aside any logical answer that quells the previous few.
All I know is that God has a plan for us, and I have made the choice to place my life in his hands, so I hope that what I desire is part of his plan. I also know that he only gives me a cross that is light enough for me to carry without my back breaking, so that I will learn lessons and skills in order to carry out his will. I guess that is in essence what Aunty P's words meant, that I will do the best I can and leave the rest up to God, and if it doesn't work, to move on and find my true purpose. I just hope I won't ever have to give up this dream.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
"And we walk back hand in hand, through the wintry streets to your flat, led by the full moon herself. We came to your door and you open it, letting us in. In the ideal world, I would kiss you there on your doorstep and you would kiss me back and we would consumate the night in a violent ardent passion. Unfortunately, we are chained here in this real world. As I close the door and take both your hands in mine, we can only stare into each other's eyes as we stand there hand in hand. We can only imagine the ideality for a moment until our thoughts are shattered by the heavy fetters of good Christian morals and the dark murky quadmire of the unknown. I kiss you sweetly on the forehead. And then a silent adieu as I watch you repair to your apartment and I to the couch. The fallen seraph of the abyss curses his loss , amidst the painful mourns of the victory dirge."
"What happens then?"
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Parables
The parable of the talents. Essentially, three servants were granted charge of varying amounts of talents, that was a form of currency in those days, and with their various talents, they each invested them in a certain way. The first two invested them and made great returns and the were praised by the master and given more to be responsible over. The last invested foolishly in the ground, and was chastised greatly for not even earning interest over the money in a bank Summarily put, God gives everyone gifts and to not use them or recognise them is a bad thing, and if we use them he will give us more. So in a way, overachievers are the first two servants, and the rest of us are the last fellow.
I always thought that I was one of the first two servant type people, but then when I think about it now I realize I've always been the last. I've led a very fortunate life thus far, and it has been filled with all sorts of experiences. Unfortunately I also have a lot of regrets. Who doesn't? I guess its also unfortunate that my logical analysing brain cannot keep its self-reflections from speculating upon what life would have been if I had made different choices.
Let me explain: right now I have some really big regrets. I regret not taking up rugby when I was nine and had the opportunity pass under my face, I regret not exposing myself to more music when I was younger and from persevering with my piano, I regret not taking a more proactive role in school.
For the first one, I only took up rugby in jc at the age of 18. 5 years after most local players pick it up, 12 years after most international players first touched an odd shaped ball. Had I taken up the sport early, I would have loved it and I would probably be playing a position that I could really put my logician's brain to rather than pushing the scrum. I would have had more than a decade's experience in the game now and I would be enjoying my rugby on a whole new level. I could have done many many things and have become many other things. Similarly I regret not taking sports seriously when I was young and now I am repaying that choice. I'm fat and slow. Retrospectively I know myself and I know I would have worked hard for it. I had the genes for it that I know. I grew tall and muscular without much effort. ADHD provided the energy and impulsivity to do crazy things.
For the second, I dropped out of music while i was practicing for grade 3 or 4. I was ten. A great pity that I led a stupid impulse drop what would become a giantic part of my life. As with most ecentric famous people that I know, I cannot survive without music. It is both solace and inspiration. How I wished during my major exams that when I needed a break from the practicing I could have just plopped down on the bench and played one or two Chopin's nocturnes or Beethoven's sonatas. I also recently realized I probably have sound -> colour synaesthesia. It just dawns on me that if I had kept music a bit longer I would have liked it, and I would practiced even harder and exposed myself to a lot more. Again I could be enjoying on a whole new level. Now I am merely learning basics and probably will not be able to ascend very far. Again, I had the opportunity, both sides of my family are musical.
And finally the third. I am a natural leader. I don't know if its being the first born, or just the lingering hunter's genes desire for excitement in the workplace by taking on more responsibility. Whatever the case may be, I command presence, people listen when I talk and most of the time they are willing to follow. During my recent adolescence, I was the one who usually organized the outings when I wanted to go out with my friends, I enjoyed that role. Its a pity that I ignored when it came to serious things like school. I could have made a difference instead of being just one herring in the sea of other white and blue herrings. I always had an opinion and many ideas to go along with that I know I would have, I could have, I didn't.
In each three cases, the element of choice is clearly present, as well the potentiality. Clearly a case of burying talents. However, God is a merciful master and thankfully will not as of yet like the last servant in the story through me out into darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Well that or I haven't squandered all my remaing talents yet. Also I think, that well I may missed out on opportunities to be the best that I can, there is still a long way to go in my life, a lot more opportunities for me to use my talents. In rugby, I just won't be the center, I'll be the rampaging prop that gives centers some terror, and one way day, with enough determination, I will play La Campanella, and I will do some good in som community with my leadership skills.
It is for this that I can say I am thankful for. I had the opportunity to realize that I do have some talents buried, and I still have to time; in accord with them metaphor; to invest these wisely and hope that more will be given to me. I'm sad though that many people still remain as the last servant is. I know so many people who if they just tried would probably be able to do something they've never even dreamed off. I wonder what it takes to lead a regretless life... I pray that God will help me.
I always thought that I was one of the first two servant type people, but then when I think about it now I realize I've always been the last. I've led a very fortunate life thus far, and it has been filled with all sorts of experiences. Unfortunately I also have a lot of regrets. Who doesn't? I guess its also unfortunate that my logical analysing brain cannot keep its self-reflections from speculating upon what life would have been if I had made different choices.
Let me explain: right now I have some really big regrets. I regret not taking up rugby when I was nine and had the opportunity pass under my face, I regret not exposing myself to more music when I was younger and from persevering with my piano, I regret not taking a more proactive role in school.
For the first one, I only took up rugby in jc at the age of 18. 5 years after most local players pick it up, 12 years after most international players first touched an odd shaped ball. Had I taken up the sport early, I would have loved it and I would probably be playing a position that I could really put my logician's brain to rather than pushing the scrum. I would have had more than a decade's experience in the game now and I would be enjoying my rugby on a whole new level. I could have done many many things and have become many other things. Similarly I regret not taking sports seriously when I was young and now I am repaying that choice. I'm fat and slow. Retrospectively I know myself and I know I would have worked hard for it. I had the genes for it that I know. I grew tall and muscular without much effort. ADHD provided the energy and impulsivity to do crazy things.
For the second, I dropped out of music while i was practicing for grade 3 or 4. I was ten. A great pity that I led a stupid impulse drop what would become a giantic part of my life. As with most ecentric famous people that I know, I cannot survive without music. It is both solace and inspiration. How I wished during my major exams that when I needed a break from the practicing I could have just plopped down on the bench and played one or two Chopin's nocturnes or Beethoven's sonatas. I also recently realized I probably have sound -> colour synaesthesia. It just dawns on me that if I had kept music a bit longer I would have liked it, and I would practiced even harder and exposed myself to a lot more. Again I could be enjoying on a whole new level. Now I am merely learning basics and probably will not be able to ascend very far. Again, I had the opportunity, both sides of my family are musical.
And finally the third. I am a natural leader. I don't know if its being the first born, or just the lingering hunter's genes desire for excitement in the workplace by taking on more responsibility. Whatever the case may be, I command presence, people listen when I talk and most of the time they are willing to follow. During my recent adolescence, I was the one who usually organized the outings when I wanted to go out with my friends, I enjoyed that role. Its a pity that I ignored when it came to serious things like school. I could have made a difference instead of being just one herring in the sea of other white and blue herrings. I always had an opinion and many ideas to go along with that I know I would have, I could have, I didn't.
In each three cases, the element of choice is clearly present, as well the potentiality. Clearly a case of burying talents. However, God is a merciful master and thankfully will not as of yet like the last servant in the story through me out into darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Well that or I haven't squandered all my remaing talents yet. Also I think, that well I may missed out on opportunities to be the best that I can, there is still a long way to go in my life, a lot more opportunities for me to use my talents. In rugby, I just won't be the center, I'll be the rampaging prop that gives centers some terror, and one way day, with enough determination, I will play La Campanella, and I will do some good in som community with my leadership skills.
It is for this that I can say I am thankful for. I had the opportunity to realize that I do have some talents buried, and I still have to time; in accord with them metaphor; to invest these wisely and hope that more will be given to me. I'm sad though that many people still remain as the last servant is. I know so many people who if they just tried would probably be able to do something they've never even dreamed off. I wonder what it takes to lead a regretless life... I pray that God will help me.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
vicissitudal year
I need to stop getting injured. I've been injured so many times in a year before. I think its the bloody army. I've managed to mangle my other ankle. It was perfect timing really, about thiry minutes into training. I spent the rest of the time on the sidelines wishing my ankle would stop hurting so I could abuse the rest of my unfit body.
Well, the good side is that I got some substantial recovery time from the doctor, the down side is that I also got some real substantial recovery time from my ankle. Gotta wait another six weeks for it to heal, hopefully in time for season. The whole thing ballooned up this morning when i woke up and tried to walk out of bed. I wonder if it would've hurt less if there wasn't 110kg balancing on it.
I'm also rather curious about the young physicians here. It amazing how they will address you in such a saccharine patronizing tone, its as though they're trying to give you caries and at the same time dispense pharmaceuticals. Either that or they believe that every patient they see is, regardless of their age (and oh so many of them looked so senior that it might be their last visit), below the age of ten, and therefore have to be talked to like spawnlings with a slight falsetto. Its fascinating how children, or at least smart children hate to be talked to in that way in the first place. Quaint place the clinic is.
I need to get back in the game! I hate my ankles.
Well, the good side is that I got some substantial recovery time from the doctor, the down side is that I also got some real substantial recovery time from my ankle. Gotta wait another six weeks for it to heal, hopefully in time for season. The whole thing ballooned up this morning when i woke up and tried to walk out of bed. I wonder if it would've hurt less if there wasn't 110kg balancing on it.
I'm also rather curious about the young physicians here. It amazing how they will address you in such a saccharine patronizing tone, its as though they're trying to give you caries and at the same time dispense pharmaceuticals. Either that or they believe that every patient they see is, regardless of their age (and oh so many of them looked so senior that it might be their last visit), below the age of ten, and therefore have to be talked to like spawnlings with a slight falsetto. Its fascinating how children, or at least smart children hate to be talked to in that way in the first place. Quaint place the clinic is.
I need to get back in the game! I hate my ankles.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Lousy Brother.
I am a rather lousy brother. I admit. I have no patience or tact or
any ability to act like a parent. I constantly push you away when you
want to spend time with me and I want to be alone with myself; which
is all I am usually, alone and complaining about it. You're alone too,
you have no one to play with or spend time with, being the smallest
critter in a house of locked doors. Everyone is busy attending to
their own selfish desires. So much for having a large family. I spend
so much time grieving being alone in a large family, desiring to have
someone to talk to and intellectualize with because everyone is busy
re-cooperating from the long work day, logged into cyberspace,
studying or never at home and then there's you. Sure, you're young,
and we won't be able to talk, but you still want to play, and be a
part of our lives even though we push you away because you're not our
age, you're not old enough or mature enough. Truth be told, we're the
fools, the immature ones, because we complain of having nothing to do.
any ability to act like a parent. I constantly push you away when you
want to spend time with me and I want to be alone with myself; which
is all I am usually, alone and complaining about it. You're alone too,
you have no one to play with or spend time with, being the smallest
critter in a house of locked doors. Everyone is busy attending to
their own selfish desires. So much for having a large family. I spend
so much time grieving being alone in a large family, desiring to have
someone to talk to and intellectualize with because everyone is busy
re-cooperating from the long work day, logged into cyberspace,
studying or never at home and then there's you. Sure, you're young,
and we won't be able to talk, but you still want to play, and be a
part of our lives even though we push you away because you're not our
age, you're not old enough or mature enough. Truth be told, we're the
fools, the immature ones, because we complain of having nothing to do.
I made you cry today because I wanted to play the video game alone,
because I wanted to practice the game alone, so I could get better, so
I could beat other people, its just not fun playing with you because
you provide no challenge, you don't understand the game, you're just
button mashing. They're all excuses. Horrible rationalities coming
from one who claims to be rational, and not rationalize. The truth is:
I wanted to be alone, to wallow in my lonely state, in self pity,
reminding myself that I'm penniless and alone at home because I'm
antisocial and don't have friends who'll ask me out.Yet you wanted to
play with me. Be it partially out of boredom, you still wanted my
society. Clearly something is wrong with me.
In the end I let you play, but with much reluctance, I purposely let
you win because I wanted you to play the computer and lose. You were
actually pretty good until the difficult stage came. I should have
encouraged you but I didn't, I set there in silence, waiting for you
to give up and go away, but you didn't. Now I feel guilty. I should, I
am guilty, I am such a lousy brother. I am so extremely selfish, you
have no one and I turned you away. We could have both had fun, but I
let you down. You're tenacious, you didn't even give up despite losing
four times in a row, you finally went away when your controller
disconnected and I didn't help you to fix it. You thought I did
something. I guess I did. I did a most selfish act, I kept quiet until
you got the message. We could have both had fun. Guess it just takes
one act of selfishness to ruin many people's day.
I am a hypocrite. I talk a lot about inclusivity, about extending that
arm to the ones desolate and ostracised, but here I am, turning my
back on you. I guess adults are all idiots, all selfish, all strange
people. It takes a child to make us understand how wayward we are. It
hurts me more that now the time to apologize is over, and even if I
do, you won't understand the apology, but you've already forgiven me.
Child, I'm very sorry.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Pain for pleasure.
My hands burn with every pull, i can feel my fingers pull and ligaments stretch, the calluses on my palms squeeze and pain surges through my hands as my chin ascends above the bar. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. One set done. Five to go. Then down on my hands again, chest to the floor, one through twenty-five. Four to go.
Pain. And it goes on the next day; day in, day out. All this for the field, for bodies crashing into one another hard, driving all day long. The burning in my lungs as I sprint from one point to another, my abs aching, all for that next hit. And then again after that. Live for it all day long, living for the man on your left and your right, in the same colours and shield.
Problem. Can't be on the field, can't be next to your mate, without the training, the boring painful taxing training. The late nights, lose the life, hit the gym, hit the track. Get faster, stronger, quicker. All I can think about now. The pain's for pleasure.
Setback -- can't train, I'm injured, a broken foot, three more weeks of hell as my muscles become mush, all I have left are these few things. To pull and push. Most painful. I just want to get through it. Get back. Get back, those are that which occupy all my thoughts.
Pain
Three Day's Grace
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
You're sick of feeling numb
You're not the only one
I'll take you by the hand
And I'll show you a world that you can understand
This life is filled with hurt
When happiness doesn't work
Trust me and take my hand
When the lights go out you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Anger and agony
Are better than misery
Trust me I've got a plan
When the lights go off you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing
Rather feel pain
I know (I know I know I know I know)
That you're wounded
You know (You know you know you know you know)
That I'm here to save you
You know (You know you know you know you know)
I'm always here for you
I know (I know I know I know I know)
That you'll thank me later
Pain, without love
Pain, can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain
Pain. And it goes on the next day; day in, day out. All this for the field, for bodies crashing into one another hard, driving all day long. The burning in my lungs as I sprint from one point to another, my abs aching, all for that next hit. And then again after that. Live for it all day long, living for the man on your left and your right, in the same colours and shield.
Problem. Can't be on the field, can't be next to your mate, without the training, the boring painful taxing training. The late nights, lose the life, hit the gym, hit the track. Get faster, stronger, quicker. All I can think about now. The pain's for pleasure.
Setback -- can't train, I'm injured, a broken foot, three more weeks of hell as my muscles become mush, all I have left are these few things. To pull and push. Most painful. I just want to get through it. Get back. Get back, those are that which occupy all my thoughts.
Pain
Three Day's Grace
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
You're sick of feeling numb
You're not the only one
I'll take you by the hand
And I'll show you a world that you can understand
This life is filled with hurt
When happiness doesn't work
Trust me and take my hand
When the lights go out you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Anger and agony
Are better than misery
Trust me I've got a plan
When the lights go off you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing
Rather feel pain
I know (I know I know I know I know)
That you're wounded
You know (You know you know you know you know)
That I'm here to save you
You know (You know you know you know you know)
I'm always here for you
I know (I know I know I know I know)
That you'll thank me later
Pain, without love
Pain, can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain
Monday, May 25, 2009
I will not drink so much ever again.
Bacon sarnie is a hangover cure! oh what joyous news has been brought. tasty! if i could have a bacon sarnie everytime i got drunk, i would get drunk more often.
of course the more annoying part about getting that far drunk is that i would have consumed many glasses of ethanol which would have many undesirable negative effects on such a perfectly tuned homeostatic system. my least favorite being dehydration. i hate waking up feeling like i need to drink a river to quench my thirst. it took me half a day to finally equalize my damn system.
i swear if i ever become a doctor, i'm going to buy that hook thing and stock up on IV fluids and catheters. then everytime i get drunk, i'll come home and attempt to to hook myself up to the IV (hopefully the high would've past and i'll be dying from the hangover so i don't miss the vein), thus ensuring proper electrolytic balance and continuous hydration. of course i won't be able to drink as much as often then or my colleagues are gonna think i'm some kinda crackhead. oh joy. i gotta make sure i don't bring the equipment down to the club either. i'm quite sure the bouncers aren't gonna let me back in, if i'm pulling my iv along with me.
Thanks for the night fellas, though you'll probably never read this, i hope we can do it again soon. I wish I had taken more photos, but i'm not that narcisstic.
of course the more annoying part about getting that far drunk is that i would have consumed many glasses of ethanol which would have many undesirable negative effects on such a perfectly tuned homeostatic system. my least favorite being dehydration. i hate waking up feeling like i need to drink a river to quench my thirst. it took me half a day to finally equalize my damn system.
i swear if i ever become a doctor, i'm going to buy that hook thing and stock up on IV fluids and catheters. then everytime i get drunk, i'll come home and attempt to to hook myself up to the IV (hopefully the high would've past and i'll be dying from the hangover so i don't miss the vein), thus ensuring proper electrolytic balance and continuous hydration. of course i won't be able to drink as much as often then or my colleagues are gonna think i'm some kinda crackhead. oh joy. i gotta make sure i don't bring the equipment down to the club either. i'm quite sure the bouncers aren't gonna let me back in, if i'm pulling my iv along with me.
Thanks for the night fellas, though you'll probably never read this, i hope we can do it again soon. I wish I had taken more photos, but i'm not that narcisstic.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Exercise.
This began as a writing exercise; an opportunity to flex those creative muscles associated with graphia, the ones i stored away in an old shoebox under the bed to get all mouldy with cobbwebbs since the end of the a level cataclysm. I have since dugged them up and surgerically rettached them to my already skewered mental state and hoped that everyone would work like riding a bike.
Thats two weeks ago.
Unfortunately, no, it didn't work and i caught cerebral meningitis, but that's another story. So here I am, attempting to proceed with a writing exercise to remember how to the ride my bicycle down the lane of esssAy.
I've been through this dark demented path many times before, with the creeky twigs and crunchy leaves under foot at all time, shrouded in the shadow of the magnificient leafless branches whos sinister fingers protrude outward in a the apparent desire to snare you as you clumber past. The forest floor is apparently teeming with life, colourlife at that, however colours have become dull and grey, having never seen the sun for decades ever since the threes grew tall and leafless. the sole available light is a tiny stream that seems to direct to ward a part of the forest. follow it and find the light, and there is your goal. follow it and lose the light, and there belies no hope. quite a nasty trip it is, don't you a agree? could use a touring agency and some souvenior sales. quick come buy your decapitated cats! demented seal plushies! true rememants of the werewolve's pendent for sale! witches hat's and white lab coats and a stetoscope.SALE! SALE! Business will indeed improve. i clearly derogated. nevertheless, the point i was trying to point across and parley with the opposite point is that i need to practice my writing. so here it is.
MAJOR DISCLAIMER. Author is writing under the influence of sleeping pills, johnny walk, the coca cola company and funeral for a friend.
Deja Vu. This originally began as a writing exercise to de rust my skills for sats. And so it shall be done, however i most sincerely regret the choice of topic. You see, I've been keeping company with Ghosts lately, many ghosts, they're all in my head and they all come creeping out in the dead of night when i am truely alone, in a resting position.I am plagued by memories of the things past, of people past, of opportunities past. fantasies about time turning, time adjustment, alteration soley to affect the future, fantasies that come out at night and seem so real. the ifs and what could'ves plague me tonight. then the worst ghost comes, the smallest one, dressed in a small white cloth wrapped around the pale transcient child's body, when he walks the ground trembles reverently. he turns to you and looks at you with his white blond tussles, and crytal clear blue eyes, as you look right through him. he brings the greatest pain, for he is PRESENT and within in can lie only truths. the ones we deny and thus consequently, his other ghostly relatives haunt us. and these ghosts, these voices talk to me in my attempts at rest, work and play. most often, they arrive during rest when the mind can be made to fully focus on a sole single subject of their choice.
In the past weeks, that chosen topic has always been life. Mine in particular. Allow me to introduce my self.
Born, 17th May on wednesdsay, of the 88th year of the 20th century.
Blood type : o+
185cm
220lbs
Named David by his parents, and Yung by his family.
I am David Yung,
3rd generation Reluctant Singaporean Citizen
4th generation ACSIAN.
enrolled in the finest institutes of learning. AC, AC, ACJC.
Attention-Deficiet/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD Combined type),servere
Suspected Asperger's Syndrome
has fallen three times into clinical depression.
High intellect with talented analytical skills.
line art artist.
obsession with medical science.
Archievements:
none.
AGE.....21.
Subject is regarded as a legal adult under Singaporean Law.
I am an Adult. Already, finally reached the forbidden age of twenty-one. An adult. I have spent twenty-one long years of painful existence on this planet learning and learning. Yet, for all the time I have spent here, i have done nothing, achieved nothing. I am wondering what purpose do i have for being born here on this hot humid sweaty island? I have fallen being my peers in their academic pursuits, most theirs are coerced upon them by other's, yet they are pursuing academic half-heartedly, while i rott away in a glass cage waiting for a university to claim me as their own.For me, I have chosen my desired path, and I have dreams and aspirations to do good, yet time and timee again, I am foiled in my plan. Sitting here watching them walk off with their new ownners to go home to a loving dinner, while i feel the cold glass on my skin. Fate is fair is she not?
I do not have any commercialble talents. I don't do party tricks, I never cared about, was what i obsessed about. When i obsessed about something, i learnt everything i could about it.when i obsessed about something, and had enough time to obsess about it, i became good at it.when i cared about something, it grew. concepts came easily, the practice too, albeit later on. though that didn't matter to the examiners. we can't make an exam just for one person after all. my obsessions are my only talents. my mind holds much knowledge over a variety of subjects, and the ability to synthesis new elemeents from their basis nature. But this talent is useless. It makes you socially awkward. no one wnats the friend who can see things they can'. its like having the friend who can see dead grandma.
I am unfit and overweight, and too tall for this society, but those are minor details. I've also never achieved any of the Goals I've set out to accomplish. My life is surrounded by failure. my failure to find community. my failure to reach university. my recent failure to get into ocs and to have a meaningful job for 2 years. my failure to upset the labels plastered on my be society. my failure to find contentment. failure to change life. It does seem that every adventure i am entailed, results only in unadulterated failure.i have failed love and i have failed life.
I can't think of any good that i have done in this life. It is a hopeless one and i wish God would end it sooner.
I've been asked to celebrate a "milestone", i can't understand or comprehend what this milestone will be. i see no reason to celebrate. David Yung, 21, a no one.
Thats two weeks ago.
Unfortunately, no, it didn't work and i caught cerebral meningitis, but that's another story. So here I am, attempting to proceed with a writing exercise to remember how to the ride my bicycle down the lane of esssAy.
I've been through this dark demented path many times before, with the creeky twigs and crunchy leaves under foot at all time, shrouded in the shadow of the magnificient leafless branches whos sinister fingers protrude outward in a the apparent desire to snare you as you clumber past. The forest floor is apparently teeming with life, colourlife at that, however colours have become dull and grey, having never seen the sun for decades ever since the threes grew tall and leafless. the sole available light is a tiny stream that seems to direct to ward a part of the forest. follow it and find the light, and there is your goal. follow it and lose the light, and there belies no hope. quite a nasty trip it is, don't you a agree? could use a touring agency and some souvenior sales. quick come buy your decapitated cats! demented seal plushies! true rememants of the werewolve's pendent for sale! witches hat's and white lab coats and a stetoscope.SALE! SALE! Business will indeed improve. i clearly derogated. nevertheless, the point i was trying to point across and parley with the opposite point is that i need to practice my writing. so here it is.
MAJOR DISCLAIMER. Author is writing under the influence of sleeping pills, johnny walk, the coca cola company and funeral for a friend.
Deja Vu. This originally began as a writing exercise to de rust my skills for sats. And so it shall be done, however i most sincerely regret the choice of topic. You see, I've been keeping company with Ghosts lately, many ghosts, they're all in my head and they all come creeping out in the dead of night when i am truely alone, in a resting position.I am plagued by memories of the things past, of people past, of opportunities past. fantasies about time turning, time adjustment, alteration soley to affect the future, fantasies that come out at night and seem so real. the ifs and what could'ves plague me tonight. then the worst ghost comes, the smallest one, dressed in a small white cloth wrapped around the pale transcient child's body, when he walks the ground trembles reverently. he turns to you and looks at you with his white blond tussles, and crytal clear blue eyes, as you look right through him. he brings the greatest pain, for he is PRESENT and within in can lie only truths. the ones we deny and thus consequently, his other ghostly relatives haunt us. and these ghosts, these voices talk to me in my attempts at rest, work and play. most often, they arrive during rest when the mind can be made to fully focus on a sole single subject of their choice.
In the past weeks, that chosen topic has always been life. Mine in particular. Allow me to introduce my self.
Born, 17th May on wednesdsay, of the 88th year of the 20th century.
Blood type : o+
185cm
220lbs
Named David by his parents, and Yung by his family.
I am David Yung,
3rd generation Reluctant Singaporean Citizen
4th generation ACSIAN.
enrolled in the finest institutes of learning. AC, AC, ACJC.
Attention-Deficiet/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD Combined type),servere
Suspected Asperger's Syndrome
has fallen three times into clinical depression.
High intellect with talented analytical skills.
line art artist.
obsession with medical science.
Archievements:
none.
AGE.....21.
Subject is regarded as a legal adult under Singaporean Law.
I am an Adult. Already, finally reached the forbidden age of twenty-one. An adult. I have spent twenty-one long years of painful existence on this planet learning and learning. Yet, for all the time I have spent here, i have done nothing, achieved nothing. I am wondering what purpose do i have for being born here on this hot humid sweaty island? I have fallen being my peers in their academic pursuits, most theirs are coerced upon them by other's, yet they are pursuing academic half-heartedly, while i rott away in a glass cage waiting for a university to claim me as their own.For me, I have chosen my desired path, and I have dreams and aspirations to do good, yet time and timee again, I am foiled in my plan. Sitting here watching them walk off with their new ownners to go home to a loving dinner, while i feel the cold glass on my skin. Fate is fair is she not?
I do not have any commercialble talents. I don't do party tricks, I never cared about, was what i obsessed about. When i obsessed about something, i learnt everything i could about it.when i obsessed about something, and had enough time to obsess about it, i became good at it.when i cared about something, it grew. concepts came easily, the practice too, albeit later on. though that didn't matter to the examiners. we can't make an exam just for one person after all. my obsessions are my only talents. my mind holds much knowledge over a variety of subjects, and the ability to synthesis new elemeents from their basis nature. But this talent is useless. It makes you socially awkward. no one wnats the friend who can see things they can'. its like having the friend who can see dead grandma.
I am unfit and overweight, and too tall for this society, but those are minor details. I've also never achieved any of the Goals I've set out to accomplish. My life is surrounded by failure. my failure to find community. my failure to reach university. my recent failure to get into ocs and to have a meaningful job for 2 years. my failure to upset the labels plastered on my be society. my failure to find contentment. failure to change life. It does seem that every adventure i am entailed, results only in unadulterated failure.i have failed love and i have failed life.
I can't think of any good that i have done in this life. It is a hopeless one and i wish God would end it sooner.
I've been asked to celebrate a "milestone", i can't understand or comprehend what this milestone will be. i see no reason to celebrate. David Yung, 21, a no one.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
stream
Welcome to life. This sad mandatory plane of existence which anything a woman-born must endure. And yes, caesarians do count as woman born, you did gestate there for a several months didn't you? Its a sordid, depressing plane of existence and if you don't think so, you're probably in denial.
But that's okay.
You see looking at my downward spiral, I will inevitably end up with no friends in 10 to 20 years.
But that's okay too.
I just don't care anymore.
-End stream of consciousness.-
But that's okay.
You see looking at my downward spiral, I will inevitably end up with no friends in 10 to 20 years.
But that's okay too.
I just don't care anymore.
-End stream of consciousness.-
Saturday, April 04, 2009
The Funeral Portrait
Opeth
You wait by the window
Morning's breath on the sill
Idle hands given another try
So you wait and you savour the moment
Outside the canvas turned white
Ruby eyes in the fog
Rain washing clean all the sins
A liquid gown that covers all
Your loathe turns endless
Opened mirage soothes your sense
Locked on the pinnacle
The best secret within
Like a derelict child
Heart burning for a stranger
Ascending to the meek
Flock round the liars in awe
Caked in the soil beneath
Fear me when we meet
Turn away in admiration
My firm grip round the nucleus of joy
Enough of this
You will leave me now
You will see it now
Perish at my hands
Close to you
Tangled up in hair
Fresh stigma look
Shall I take you with me
And it is cold
Ruby eyes in the fog
It is me
And you are just like them all
Stained by the names of fathers
I'm greeting my downward fall
Leaving the throes to others
Opeth
You wait by the window
Morning's breath on the sill
Idle hands given another try
So you wait and you savour the moment
Outside the canvas turned white
Ruby eyes in the fog
Rain washing clean all the sins
A liquid gown that covers all
Your loathe turns endless
Opened mirage soothes your sense
Locked on the pinnacle
The best secret within
Like a derelict child
Heart burning for a stranger
Ascending to the meek
Flock round the liars in awe
Caked in the soil beneath
Fear me when we meet
Turn away in admiration
My firm grip round the nucleus of joy
Enough of this
You will leave me now
You will see it now
Perish at my hands
Close to you
Tangled up in hair
Fresh stigma look
Shall I take you with me
And it is cold
Ruby eyes in the fog
It is me
And you are just like them all
Stained by the names of fathers
I'm greeting my downward fall
Leaving the throes to others
Friday, April 03, 2009
Doors.
Good morning sunshine!
I am sorry to disappoint, I am still alive, most unfortunately, but well: c'est la vie.
I promise I will have an interesting note up on this spot soon!
However briefly,
Life hasn't been too good to me this year, thus far. I've encountered no end of vicissitudes upon the major things in life. Its been rather depressing. Maybe I should do the American thing and start poppin' prozacs like m&ms
I pray that God will open a door for me.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Waiting
its amazing how the wait can be so long and ardous when you wait for important people to return messages. Instant messages especially show the increasing impatience of humans as the twenty first century beings. This is something that i just realized as i am currently waiting for someone special to return a message. Its highly likely that someone special is watching gg or attending to art or some other distraction and has clearly misplaced her phone, or at worst case ignoring me, either way i am rather anxious and annoyed. I'm sitting here wondering with great anxiety if she'll ever reply and I wonder if she knows how I feel. That doesn't matter, though incidentally, my grandmother just texted me back after i sent her message two hours ago. This made me realized, that I should have expected a reply, but the two hour wait didn't really matter to me. Ah the impatience of the heart. Its not too bad in the twenty first century, human impatience has made messages arrive instantly, however i do wonder how they endured such endearing pain in the nineteenth century, when people special could be away for months and whereby the only medium of communication was letter writing. They had instant messaging that time too, it was called the telegraph. So much for fast and efficient. I, we could take a leaf out of the nineteenth century in terms of patience with matters of people special.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
To you.
Hey you,
Something happened to me last night that made me realize how weak I am. I am broken boy, in so many aspects of my life, yet somehow each day God gives me the strength to drudge through life. I've done so many things that people thought I could never do. I've pushed myself beyond my limits time and time again. However, there is one thing I could never do. I couldn't be my full self infront of you. And it pains me that I can't tell you how special you are to me. How lucky you are. How lovely your smile is. How pretty your eyes are. How much I think about you.
I wish I could find that strength.
Something happened to me last night that made me realize how weak I am. I am broken boy, in so many aspects of my life, yet somehow each day God gives me the strength to drudge through life. I've done so many things that people thought I could never do. I've pushed myself beyond my limits time and time again. However, there is one thing I could never do. I couldn't be my full self infront of you. And it pains me that I can't tell you how special you are to me. How lucky you are. How lovely your smile is. How pretty your eyes are. How much I think about you.
I wish I could find that strength.
Friday, January 23, 2009
song to you. wherever ever you are.
Goo Goo Dolls.
Dizzy
You're cynical and beautiful
You always make a scene
You're monochrome delirious
You're nothing that you seem
I'm drownin in your vanity
Your laugh is a disease
You're dirty and you're sweet
You know you're everything to me
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
I wanna kill at the machine
That made you piss away you dreams
Tear down your defenses
Till there's nothing there but me
You're angry when you're beautiful
Your love is such a tease
I'm drowning in your Dizzy noise
I wanna feel you scream
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Whatever ever you are
Whatever ever you are
Goo Goo Dolls.
Dizzy
You're cynical and beautiful
You always make a scene
You're monochrome delirious
You're nothing that you seem
I'm drownin in your vanity
Your laugh is a disease
You're dirty and you're sweet
You know you're everything to me
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
I wanna kill at the machine
That made you piss away you dreams
Tear down your defenses
Till there's nothing there but me
You're angry when you're beautiful
Your love is such a tease
I'm drowning in your Dizzy noise
I wanna feel you scream
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Oh, everything you are
Falls from the sky like a star
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Everything you are
Whatever ever you are
Whatever ever you are
Whatever ever you are
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Life sucks.
then again life is gone. so precious. wasted dead decayed revolting. so here's a song.
the pixies
Hey
Been trying to meet you
Hey
Must be a devil between us
Or whores in my head
Whores at my door
Whores in my bed
But hey
Where
Have you
Been if you go I will surely die
Were chained
Uh said the man to the lady
Uh said the lady to the man she adored
And the whores like a choir
Go uh all night
And mary aint you tired of this
Uh
Is
The
Sound
That the mother makes when the baby breaks
Were chained
the pixies
Hey
Been trying to meet you
Hey
Must be a devil between us
Or whores in my head
Whores at my door
Whores in my bed
But hey
Where
Have you
Been if you go I will surely die
Were chained
Uh said the man to the lady
Uh said the lady to the man she adored
And the whores like a choir
Go uh all night
And mary aint you tired of this
Uh
Is
The
Sound
That the mother makes when the baby breaks
Were chained
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Day Zero
And so the exams have ended. Just like that, silently, on the morning of the twentieth of november. Much unlike the way they arrived, with a huge bang, cacophoniously disrupting life and like a good guest, arriving so amply supplied with the gift of chaos. Yet it left egragiously this morning, like a thief in the night. In a mere thirty minutes, it was over.
In its wake, a new freedom arose. Three years worth of heavy shackles, chains and bondage fell off my shoulders. In response, my shoulders rejoiced of course. Yet, this new weightlessness is an unwelcomed feeling. The shackles and chains of before were not dead weights, but wheels, they provided meaning and purpose. Twelve hours into the aftermath, the lack of meaning and purpose in my life now has become as clear as crystal. I'm confident enough to say, that if this was a well read website, I'd recieve hatemail for following blasphemous statement. I want to go back to school so I can learn more. I want to study post-A levels.
Well, who'd thought unemployment would be so boring. Boredom, you are one of my greatest nemesis and one of the most powerful. Your powers of lethargy and depressive and negativity are strong enough to make the sun fall out of the sky. If only I knew your one weakness, the krytonite that will end all your terror. If only.
In its wake, a new freedom arose. Three years worth of heavy shackles, chains and bondage fell off my shoulders. In response, my shoulders rejoiced of course. Yet, this new weightlessness is an unwelcomed feeling. The shackles and chains of before were not dead weights, but wheels, they provided meaning and purpose. Twelve hours into the aftermath, the lack of meaning and purpose in my life now has become as clear as crystal. I'm confident enough to say, that if this was a well read website, I'd recieve hatemail for following blasphemous statement. I want to go back to school so I can learn more. I want to study post-A levels.
Well, who'd thought unemployment would be so boring. Boredom, you are one of my greatest nemesis and one of the most powerful. Your powers of lethargy and depressive and negativity are strong enough to make the sun fall out of the sky. If only I knew your one weakness, the krytonite that will end all your terror. If only.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Again why?
Why did you put me here. Why did you send me to this place, with these people, with these systems? Why? Why this situation, why this time, why is everything shrouded? Why must I continually walk this path through smoke and mirrors? Why is everything so twisted and convoluted and unclear? Why must you keep breaking me and making me fall. Why can't you grant me wings to soar? Instead you plant me heavily on the ground, and a put a mountain of darkness in my path. Why must have this mind and be adlered by impulsivity and carelessness? Why do you make my life so difficult?
Yet, to ask you these questions, to question your reasoning, to doubt your plans are actions of nothing more than folly. Your logic is pure, your reasons can only end in goodness for you are love and your plan is divine. You do things in your time. And you gave me freedom. How can I blame you for putting me in this place? I chose it. I chose out of all the eighteen or more possible choices. How can I slander your name for the path that I have picked out? I want this job and this is the only path and I knew it would be crooked and twisted and bent, clouded in fog, mirrors reflecting all manner of nonexistent paths. Yet, it was not you who told me to step foot upon its shadowy trail. I did.
I'm lost now. The labryinth of life stands before me, with portals opening and closing before my eyes. I can't help but think that somehow behind all my choices lies your ever guiding hand. Then why, why does it have to be this way, all wrought with pain and suffering? How much longer will I have to drag this cross before I can reach the trodden beaten path once again? They say to follow your plan and do your will is supposed to bring peace and contentment. I have yet to find either. And I have the gall to question your power and your existence. How much further can I sink in degradation? For you who created all, the everlasting creator, there is nothing that you cannot do. You have blown the smallest wind and toppled this giant many times. I am here by your choice, yet it is my choice. Your hand is in everything, and yet everything works on its own accord. And how can you not exist? If you were not to exist to me, then what would I have? I would be nothing. In my heart, I know you to be true, to say, to think to rationalize that you cannot exist is mere pretense. Then, life in and off itself will be a lie. I cannot fathom how these people who believe in their hearts that you cannot be true can make it true the day. To lie and lie and lie until they live the lie.
It occured to me when I was lashing out at you in pain, of the extent of your love. All over the world at any point in time, there are people lashing out at you in anger, in pain, in suffering, in confusion, people who question your abilities, and people who doubt your existence. Yet, in spite of all the hurt and pain they cause you, you a being of pure love, you take all in without grudge or retaliation. It must pain you to watch the suffering, knowing you change it all in the smallest fraction of a microsecond and still, you withhold that power. Instead you touch your children in the most subtle ways. You know that the pain and the suffering and the disbelief are neccessary to grow strong and resilient so that we may come home one day.
Yet, we are weak and we are foolish and we fail. I am weak and I am foolish. That is why I question and retort and doubt. I want to know why. Why do you have to make me feel so helpless, crumpled and useless. So vulnerable, in knowing that no matter what I do or how much it, I can have no control of my life. You are the one who does. It was what I said before the paper, 'it is in your hands now'. I wonder if I truly meant it. Now I can't let go, I know now that whatever comes out of this chapter, it is really in your hands. Whatever grade I will get, is no longer up to me, but is up to you. I only pray that by your grace, it will be good and it will be what I wanted, what I worked so hard for. I am selfish, I know you have and plan and still I want what I want and I cannot help it. If it is not what I want, then I beg that you give me understanding and patience and acceptance so that I may understand your plan and let you guide me. Whatever I have, whatever I will recieve is of your doing and not mine.
I hope that this path I have choosen is the path that you want me to walk down. If not, I hope that I will be able to accept that. Help me to trust in you completely.
The words have been there all along, you printed them on my jersery. Matt 19:23
Yet, to ask you these questions, to question your reasoning, to doubt your plans are actions of nothing more than folly. Your logic is pure, your reasons can only end in goodness for you are love and your plan is divine. You do things in your time. And you gave me freedom. How can I blame you for putting me in this place? I chose it. I chose out of all the eighteen or more possible choices. How can I slander your name for the path that I have picked out? I want this job and this is the only path and I knew it would be crooked and twisted and bent, clouded in fog, mirrors reflecting all manner of nonexistent paths. Yet, it was not you who told me to step foot upon its shadowy trail. I did.
I'm lost now. The labryinth of life stands before me, with portals opening and closing before my eyes. I can't help but think that somehow behind all my choices lies your ever guiding hand. Then why, why does it have to be this way, all wrought with pain and suffering? How much longer will I have to drag this cross before I can reach the trodden beaten path once again? They say to follow your plan and do your will is supposed to bring peace and contentment. I have yet to find either. And I have the gall to question your power and your existence. How much further can I sink in degradation? For you who created all, the everlasting creator, there is nothing that you cannot do. You have blown the smallest wind and toppled this giant many times. I am here by your choice, yet it is my choice. Your hand is in everything, and yet everything works on its own accord. And how can you not exist? If you were not to exist to me, then what would I have? I would be nothing. In my heart, I know you to be true, to say, to think to rationalize that you cannot exist is mere pretense. Then, life in and off itself will be a lie. I cannot fathom how these people who believe in their hearts that you cannot be true can make it true the day. To lie and lie and lie until they live the lie.
It occured to me when I was lashing out at you in pain, of the extent of your love. All over the world at any point in time, there are people lashing out at you in anger, in pain, in suffering, in confusion, people who question your abilities, and people who doubt your existence. Yet, in spite of all the hurt and pain they cause you, you a being of pure love, you take all in without grudge or retaliation. It must pain you to watch the suffering, knowing you change it all in the smallest fraction of a microsecond and still, you withhold that power. Instead you touch your children in the most subtle ways. You know that the pain and the suffering and the disbelief are neccessary to grow strong and resilient so that we may come home one day.
Yet, we are weak and we are foolish and we fail. I am weak and I am foolish. That is why I question and retort and doubt. I want to know why. Why do you have to make me feel so helpless, crumpled and useless. So vulnerable, in knowing that no matter what I do or how much it, I can have no control of my life. You are the one who does. It was what I said before the paper, 'it is in your hands now'. I wonder if I truly meant it. Now I can't let go, I know now that whatever comes out of this chapter, it is really in your hands. Whatever grade I will get, is no longer up to me, but is up to you. I only pray that by your grace, it will be good and it will be what I wanted, what I worked so hard for. I am selfish, I know you have and plan and still I want what I want and I cannot help it. If it is not what I want, then I beg that you give me understanding and patience and acceptance so that I may understand your plan and let you guide me. Whatever I have, whatever I will recieve is of your doing and not mine.
I hope that this path I have choosen is the path that you want me to walk down. If not, I hope that I will be able to accept that. Help me to trust in you completely.
The words have been there all along, you printed them on my jersery. Matt 19:23
Saturday, November 01, 2008
why?
we fell out of the sky one night,
and you just sat there and cried,
and cried and cried and cried,
you knew that we'd never be alright.
and so the red tears dribbled down
from those beautiful brown eyes,
and driped down down onto your dress,
as you looked up at the dream bound
and tied. you can't go back now,
its too high in the deep blue sky
but you tried and fell and died.
i wished i saved you. but how?
everything lies and taunts the skies,
and the maggots that eat you
remove all the little ties,
put you deep in the ground, no more tries.
From the sky you fell, now you dwell
in the ground, with much patience lie,
hidden in plain sight, masked delight.
Justice has toppled, deep into hell,
and her scales no longer balance
the good from the bad, no more,
no more, she is very bored.
she thrusts her sword, like lance
deep into her heart and breathes no more.
make way for the cold winter of May,
when January no long prays,
and October hides in silent shame, the whore.
As I watch you in the casket,
like a doll, fast a sleep, there's
no one to play with anymore.
you twist and turn to forget
those things that in the past wrought
with much regret, and put it all
away in your pocket, justa ball.
are these all that you thought?
the rain echoes my silence wait,
pouring crimson down from heaven,
and there's here left to learn,
just your forgotten face, i am too late.
I wonder why i followed you out
of sky, only to watch you die?
How did i lose my heart to a lie?
separated by classroom doubt,
by a shiny silver window,
that reflected cruel truth,
like the wolf and its tooth.
I'd shatter it and see you widowed
but you had already died.
i wonder why you were going
down a senseless path of ghosts.
i wished we could have shared toast,
and talked a little more, hearts trembling.
the trembling was your fear,
and nothing more from the monster
that stood calmly on the barrister,
staring out into nothing, no leer,
no glance. then you jump!
and fell down, out of the sky.
crying, crying, crying, crying,
into your box, in one big lump,
you maggot infested memory.
rest in peace.
and you just sat there and cried,
and cried and cried and cried,
you knew that we'd never be alright.
and so the red tears dribbled down
from those beautiful brown eyes,
and driped down down onto your dress,
as you looked up at the dream bound
and tied. you can't go back now,
its too high in the deep blue sky
but you tried and fell and died.
i wished i saved you. but how?
everything lies and taunts the skies,
and the maggots that eat you
remove all the little ties,
put you deep in the ground, no more tries.
From the sky you fell, now you dwell
in the ground, with much patience lie,
hidden in plain sight, masked delight.
Justice has toppled, deep into hell,
and her scales no longer balance
the good from the bad, no more,
no more, she is very bored.
she thrusts her sword, like lance
deep into her heart and breathes no more.
make way for the cold winter of May,
when January no long prays,
and October hides in silent shame, the whore.
As I watch you in the casket,
like a doll, fast a sleep, there's
no one to play with anymore.
you twist and turn to forget
those things that in the past wrought
with much regret, and put it all
away in your pocket, justa ball.
are these all that you thought?
the rain echoes my silence wait,
pouring crimson down from heaven,
and there's here left to learn,
just your forgotten face, i am too late.
I wonder why i followed you out
of sky, only to watch you die?
How did i lose my heart to a lie?
separated by classroom doubt,
by a shiny silver window,
that reflected cruel truth,
like the wolf and its tooth.
I'd shatter it and see you widowed
but you had already died.
i wonder why you were going
down a senseless path of ghosts.
i wished we could have shared toast,
and talked a little more, hearts trembling.
the trembling was your fear,
and nothing more from the monster
that stood calmly on the barrister,
staring out into nothing, no leer,
no glance. then you jump!
and fell down, out of the sky.
crying, crying, crying, crying,
into your box, in one big lump,
you maggot infested memory.
rest in peace.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
We cry out so loud that no one can hear us.
Yesterday, I wrote up a plan for a GP essay where the topic of discussion was the possibility for 'harmnony in a diverse world'. I wrote up a brillant plan, so full of hope and ideas, put through logical process, proved by the idea of induction. If it is possible for Mother Nature in her complexities and chaos to display some form of harmony.
Through Le Chateliar's principle, the laws of nature work to equilibriate any effect or stimulus that happens in the natural world. If the population of Lions rise, the population of gazelle will fall, then the population of Lions will rise again. If the temperature of a habitat rises by so many degrees, the inhabitats best suited to survive will thrive and the unselected will die.
By that assumption, the far more intricate society of Man too can be harmonious. Unfortunately, I tried to argue that it would actually be possible in this time, that it to an extent is already in natural harmony. That Le Chateliar's was already working. To an extent it is, but it is working the simple way nature's equilibrium is in place. Cold, unforgiving and mechanical. Society is already like that. And its harmony lacks the one criteria that establishes harmony. It is unappealing.
However, this was not the harmony I had envisioned. I saw one wherein the world's peoples worked together to turn all evil into good. I saw a world where the flaws that followed original sin were removed. I saw the people at the highest status of affluence giving back to those in the lowest levels of poverty. I saw a world like the one now, with all its flaws like poverty, but one where there was love and care. Everyone considered the other, everyone cared and everyone loved. Love, that was it.
I saw heaven.
I saw the ideality that could not happen, at least not in this realm or in this time, not without intervention from above. I saw this, and I tried to foolishly contrust a real possibility. No, not just a possbility, but a reality. In that reality I lost my humanity.
I wanted to force a cube into a circular slot, and I joined the ranks of idealist before me. Do not get me wrong, Heaven exists, infact Heaven exists here on Earth too, just in tiny pockets all over the world, where there is love. I am more appalled at my ability to lose my humanity, in search ideality, by becoming so far removed into a macro perspective, that logically the processes, the systems, the patterns, they do work, albeit from high above. Yet inasmuch as it worked above, I failed to look below.
I forgot that God sees all, he not only looks from above upon us with his light. He is with us now, here before us all, in the spaces of time, in the every wrong and every place and every plane. He exists. And God, God is impossible to understand by humans, his ways, his means, his reasons, they are his own. From time to time, he will give a few specially selected few a sliver of understanding. However, it is impossible to understand or know him until we meet him.
This is something I've understood since secondary school. So why? Why did I try to play God, why do I try so hard to be perfect, to get perfect scores, to strive to be the best, and in the end I fail. I will fail. I am not perfect. I feel helpless and empty that I cannot understand and I cannot act.
I guess I will have to trust him.
As my energies are burning out on the advent of the examinations. I know I cannot do anything but push and stumble forward and rest upon his shoulders, while he walks for me, leaving his footprints in the sand. And I'll have to find my empathy. I think I left under my pile of books.
Through Le Chateliar's principle, the laws of nature work to equilibriate any effect or stimulus that happens in the natural world. If the population of Lions rise, the population of gazelle will fall, then the population of Lions will rise again. If the temperature of a habitat rises by so many degrees, the inhabitats best suited to survive will thrive and the unselected will die.
By that assumption, the far more intricate society of Man too can be harmonious. Unfortunately, I tried to argue that it would actually be possible in this time, that it to an extent is already in natural harmony. That Le Chateliar's was already working. To an extent it is, but it is working the simple way nature's equilibrium is in place. Cold, unforgiving and mechanical. Society is already like that. And its harmony lacks the one criteria that establishes harmony. It is unappealing.
However, this was not the harmony I had envisioned. I saw one wherein the world's peoples worked together to turn all evil into good. I saw a world where the flaws that followed original sin were removed. I saw the people at the highest status of affluence giving back to those in the lowest levels of poverty. I saw a world like the one now, with all its flaws like poverty, but one where there was love and care. Everyone considered the other, everyone cared and everyone loved. Love, that was it.
I saw heaven.
I saw the ideality that could not happen, at least not in this realm or in this time, not without intervention from above. I saw this, and I tried to foolishly contrust a real possibility. No, not just a possbility, but a reality. In that reality I lost my humanity.
I wanted to force a cube into a circular slot, and I joined the ranks of idealist before me. Do not get me wrong, Heaven exists, infact Heaven exists here on Earth too, just in tiny pockets all over the world, where there is love. I am more appalled at my ability to lose my humanity, in search ideality, by becoming so far removed into a macro perspective, that logically the processes, the systems, the patterns, they do work, albeit from high above. Yet inasmuch as it worked above, I failed to look below.
I forgot that God sees all, he not only looks from above upon us with his light. He is with us now, here before us all, in the spaces of time, in the every wrong and every place and every plane. He exists. And God, God is impossible to understand by humans, his ways, his means, his reasons, they are his own. From time to time, he will give a few specially selected few a sliver of understanding. However, it is impossible to understand or know him until we meet him.
This is something I've understood since secondary school. So why? Why did I try to play God, why do I try so hard to be perfect, to get perfect scores, to strive to be the best, and in the end I fail. I will fail. I am not perfect. I feel helpless and empty that I cannot understand and I cannot act.
I guess I will have to trust him.
As my energies are burning out on the advent of the examinations. I know I cannot do anything but push and stumble forward and rest upon his shoulders, while he walks for me, leaving his footprints in the sand. And I'll have to find my empathy. I think I left under my pile of books.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Life fades.
I am stuck in a system. A most heinous system, one that ticks uniformly like a clock. I am stuck here like a square piece being pushed through a circular hole, my entire life is on hold. And as I wait, I watch the other people go through other doors, fitting so perfectly and walking around out side. Why do they get to fly?
It shouldn't bother me, I'm stuck. Just stuck here. I can't go anywhere, or do anything and time doesn't permit me to back track. Though the system has a mean ticker going tick tock tick tock. Counting down days till the doors shut. I don't have much time life I reckon, 17 days or 50 days, what does it matter? I'll still be stuck.
It perplexes me so, why You should let me be stuck here all alone? I can't find it out some days. I know You let me come here. I know I need to be here to do the things to get to the place that I need to be. Yet why now, why here, why this place? Why did you let all my friends go away? Why does it have to be this way?
Somedays I wreck my brains and try to figure out why. Sometimes its just so hard to take. I wish I could just do what You say, I wish I wouldn't get angry and question and stray. After all, I cannot know all, no matter how much I try, even with all the books in the world, what You know I won't ever find. Yet, its difficult, so hard sometimes to push on, to do things your way. I fail and fall and topple, lapse and relapse, and fail some more. I think the worst part is when I wonder if you're even there.
Sometimes its difficult, and I feel so dry inside. I wish I wouldn't, because it doesn't seem right. But You always know. You have planned everything so nicely haven't You? I just hope that I will follow Your way. This I pray.
It shouldn't bother me, I'm stuck. Just stuck here. I can't go anywhere, or do anything and time doesn't permit me to back track. Though the system has a mean ticker going tick tock tick tock. Counting down days till the doors shut. I don't have much time life I reckon, 17 days or 50 days, what does it matter? I'll still be stuck.
It perplexes me so, why You should let me be stuck here all alone? I can't find it out some days. I know You let me come here. I know I need to be here to do the things to get to the place that I need to be. Yet why now, why here, why this place? Why did you let all my friends go away? Why does it have to be this way?
Somedays I wreck my brains and try to figure out why. Sometimes its just so hard to take. I wish I could just do what You say, I wish I wouldn't get angry and question and stray. After all, I cannot know all, no matter how much I try, even with all the books in the world, what You know I won't ever find. Yet, its difficult, so hard sometimes to push on, to do things your way. I fail and fall and topple, lapse and relapse, and fail some more. I think the worst part is when I wonder if you're even there.
Sometimes its difficult, and I feel so dry inside. I wish I wouldn't, because it doesn't seem right. But You always know. You have planned everything so nicely haven't You? I just hope that I will follow Your way. This I pray.
Friday, October 03, 2008
A Warning
I think I dreamt of you again last night,
Morning rose, and you disappeared again.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
You looked so pretty like the northern lights,
But fate said 'no' and let the darkness in:
I think I dreamt of you again last night.
And in your eyes I became the black knight;
Fanged monsters and Belphagor, had I much akin.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
You clawed my heart and pierced it with no spite--
Scared you were of this monster that you've slain.
I think I dreamt of you again last night,
Amidst dripping skulls and carrion plagued night,
Where they buried me to sleep, still insane.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
Prescient Fate spins her wheel with great delight,
Laughing at all enthralled in her sordid chain.
I think I dreamt of you again last night.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
Morning rose, and you disappeared again.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
You looked so pretty like the northern lights,
But fate said 'no' and let the darkness in:
I think I dreamt of you again last night.
And in your eyes I became the black knight;
Fanged monsters and Belphagor, had I much akin.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
You clawed my heart and pierced it with no spite--
Scared you were of this monster that you've slain.
I think I dreamt of you again last night,
Amidst dripping skulls and carrion plagued night,
Where they buried me to sleep, still insane.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
Prescient Fate spins her wheel with great delight,
Laughing at all enthralled in her sordid chain.
I think I dreamt of you again last night.
(Nightmares haunt me still wroth with bloody scythes.)
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Carelessness.
Carelessness is the bane of my existance. I am now running the final stretch of this race. This crucial segment that will bring about the end of a chapter of my life. And yet, carelessness seems to plague my every footstep. He was there with during my papers with his parents: poor time-management and stress. Such a pity that he must plague me so, and what a great disease he is. He has cost me many grades. The rotten little red crosses that form like a tumor
Yet, wonderfully, there is a cure. That cure is practice. However, practice is the most bitter of all medicines, the kind you need to three glasses of water to remove its horrid aftertaste. The type requiring long hours for the entire dosage to be delivere, long hours, everyday. And the effect is slow, every slow. The doctor says a constant administration of it is required to cure carelessness. Furthermore, the dosage can only begin in small amounts and gradually increase. Too much too early will cause negative side effects. Too little will have no significant gains. The worst thing about this medicine is that even a small break from treatment will require the patient to return to the first stage of it.
I have taken too long a break from treatment, and i feel weak and frustrated. Everyday my work output is a laughable fraction of what it was just a month ago. Even more frustrated about the limbs amputated because of it. The loss of chemistry and mmathematics and biology. The doctors say that they can be regrown, but it will take time. I wonder if I have that time? Will I be able to return and best my previous work out put? Will I be able to do it in enough time. I wonder.
The doctors told me there will be more testing, rigorous testing. It begins in six and half weeks. Not many days left, they are so few. I pray for a miracle, for God's divine intervention that he will graze me with his finger and remove this cancer from my viens. I pray for a miracle that he will jumpstart my fire and let the treatment work. I pray for a miracle that I will pass these tests.
There is only one chance. My heart beats faster just thinking about it. A singular flashing taught, a consequence, a nightmare in a second. Yet I know the future is undecidded, unknown save to one and full of possibilities. I know now is the present, now is current, malleable by the choices i make. I try everyday to live here and now and focus on what needs to be done. I know I need to live now to get to tomorrow. I wonder if I am doing enough.
Everything is so slow now. I feel frustrated. I want to go faster, fast, but I can't. I'm trapped, ensared by a monster I have to beat. I guess I can only pray.
Yet, wonderfully, there is a cure. That cure is practice. However, practice is the most bitter of all medicines, the kind you need to three glasses of water to remove its horrid aftertaste. The type requiring long hours for the entire dosage to be delivere, long hours, everyday. And the effect is slow, every slow. The doctor says a constant administration of it is required to cure carelessness. Furthermore, the dosage can only begin in small amounts and gradually increase. Too much too early will cause negative side effects. Too little will have no significant gains. The worst thing about this medicine is that even a small break from treatment will require the patient to return to the first stage of it.
I have taken too long a break from treatment, and i feel weak and frustrated. Everyday my work output is a laughable fraction of what it was just a month ago. Even more frustrated about the limbs amputated because of it. The loss of chemistry and mmathematics and biology. The doctors say that they can be regrown, but it will take time. I wonder if I have that time? Will I be able to return and best my previous work out put? Will I be able to do it in enough time. I wonder.
The doctors told me there will be more testing, rigorous testing. It begins in six and half weeks. Not many days left, they are so few. I pray for a miracle, for God's divine intervention that he will graze me with his finger and remove this cancer from my viens. I pray for a miracle that he will jumpstart my fire and let the treatment work. I pray for a miracle that I will pass these tests.
There is only one chance. My heart beats faster just thinking about it. A singular flashing taught, a consequence, a nightmare in a second. Yet I know the future is undecidded, unknown save to one and full of possibilities. I know now is the present, now is current, malleable by the choices i make. I try everyday to live here and now and focus on what needs to be done. I know I need to live now to get to tomorrow. I wonder if I am doing enough.
Everything is so slow now. I feel frustrated. I want to go faster, fast, but I can't. I'm trapped, ensared by a monster I have to beat. I guess I can only pray.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
We interrupt this program to bring this exciting broadcast!
On the run from the devious and terrifying Ministry of Education, our hero, David and his most logical assistant, The Invisible Man!, and in search of the perfect burger and chocolate milkshake, this half-visible dynamic duo bring to you the results of their ever ongoing endeavor!
*whack!*
First on their try out list was Relish, a daunty little cafe near serene center that provides delicious mouth watering burgers!
They served up a glass as long as the legs of a certain little giant girl, filled to the brim with thick velvety chocolate heaven, with a hint of triple sec that added to indulgent taste to great a big boom upon every sip! 'A must try!' says The Invisible Man! and he rarely says much!
*BLAM!*
and off they go again, this time to The Coffee Club, where they were served a glass full of thick chocolatey milkshake, topped up with a scoop of ice cream. though despite the awe and presence of the drink, it could manage to top Relish, still worth a taste!
*Smash*
now headed to Hans@the national library, were the half visible duo ordered shake while waiting for a dynamic meeting! To their unfortunate dismay, it was sad concoction, of vanilla ice cream blended with chocolate syrup, barely worth the time. Remember kids, next time troubled with the ingredients list, always use real good quality chocolate ice cream! that will whip the villains into despair!
*BOOM!*
finally this half invisible duo, was at island cremery waiting for space to descend upon them, when they decided they wanted a milkshake! and a milkshake they got! though nice and tall and thick and make with reverse-o, the might island milkshake was no much for the wonders of relish.
*ka-blam!*
and there you have it folks, the mighty half-visible duo are off again, on the run from the villainy of the MINSTRY OF EDUCATION and in search for the perfect shake! TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR ANOTHER BEDAZZLING EPISODE! 'It's outrageous' says The Invisible Man! so it is...until next time folks!
*whack!*
First on their try out list was Relish, a daunty little cafe near serene center that provides delicious mouth watering burgers!
They served up a glass as long as the legs of a certain little giant girl, filled to the brim with thick velvety chocolate heaven, with a hint of triple sec that added to indulgent taste to great a big boom upon every sip! 'A must try!' says The Invisible Man! and he rarely says much!
*BLAM!*
and off they go again, this time to The Coffee Club, where they were served a glass full of thick chocolatey milkshake, topped up with a scoop of ice cream. though despite the awe and presence of the drink, it could manage to top Relish, still worth a taste!
*Smash*
now headed to Hans@the national library, were the half visible duo ordered shake while waiting for a dynamic meeting! To their unfortunate dismay, it was sad concoction, of vanilla ice cream blended with chocolate syrup, barely worth the time. Remember kids, next time troubled with the ingredients list, always use real good quality chocolate ice cream! that will whip the villains into despair!
*BOOM!*
finally this half invisible duo, was at island cremery waiting for space to descend upon them, when they decided they wanted a milkshake! and a milkshake they got! though nice and tall and thick and make with reverse-o, the might island milkshake was no much for the wonders of relish.
*ka-blam!*
and there you have it folks, the mighty half-visible duo are off again, on the run from the villainy of the MINSTRY OF EDUCATION and in search for the perfect shake! TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR ANOTHER BEDAZZLING EPISODE! 'It's outrageous' says The Invisible Man! so it is...until next time folks!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Today, I met a most interesting man, a wandering writer by the name Hideo Asano, at Hans outside the National Library. He travels from country to country in search of inspiration for writing, much like wandering ronin, though he would probably wince at the comparison. He appeared out of nowhere, and touched our lives for a second, before the Chow and I had to take our leaves to attend to our schedules, and then he was gone. Though this small moment made me think and think a lot I have.
Asano, like I mentioned earlier, appeared out of nowhere and suddenly inquired about the book I was thumbing through for literary evidence, was written by Dickens. This promptly ended our tuition and we began to discuss the loss of the classics upon the people of today. Asano talked about how the publishers of today only print what the masses want, which is entertainment, which is rubbish, whereas books, the classics, they were food for the mind, classics such as shakespeare, nietzsche, tolsky and chekov. Authors with which many young in this country have never even heard of before, much less read.
From discussing literature, we went on to discuss the machinations of people in certain societies, the loss of the individual mind, citing countries like Japan and the US as examples. The isolation of the Japanese due to the systems and the language barrier and so on have lead to the loss of individuality in Japan, where everyone follows the mainstream. Asano was very against the mainstream. He believes in writing for himself and not for others, for writing in and of itself and not for money. It is only later when I googled him that I found out how much he holds true to his believes, he wanders from country to country, sleeping in airports, eating simply, writing. How many of us are to scared to put what we truely believe in, into practice.
We talked more upon the isolation of the thinking mind in Singapore and attainment of true freedom. He is very much like my grandfather, holding onto absolutes, yet still hold very simple and poignant truths in them. His simplicity really struck me, here is a thinking mind, a complex individual with opinions and philosophy, who enjoys time to think and ponder life, much like myself. Yet he is able to hold on to simplicity, something that i can only dream of. In a way, so much like Fr. Keane.
I wish i could write more, but i seem to have trouble expressing myself properly tonight. If you are so blessed to meet this man, I do hope you entertain him, for you might be the one who comes out better for it.
Check him out at www.hideoasano.com
Asano, like I mentioned earlier, appeared out of nowhere and suddenly inquired about the book I was thumbing through for literary evidence, was written by Dickens. This promptly ended our tuition and we began to discuss the loss of the classics upon the people of today. Asano talked about how the publishers of today only print what the masses want, which is entertainment, which is rubbish, whereas books, the classics, they were food for the mind, classics such as shakespeare, nietzsche, tolsky and chekov. Authors with which many young in this country have never even heard of before, much less read.
From discussing literature, we went on to discuss the machinations of people in certain societies, the loss of the individual mind, citing countries like Japan and the US as examples. The isolation of the Japanese due to the systems and the language barrier and so on have lead to the loss of individuality in Japan, where everyone follows the mainstream. Asano was very against the mainstream. He believes in writing for himself and not for others, for writing in and of itself and not for money. It is only later when I googled him that I found out how much he holds true to his believes, he wanders from country to country, sleeping in airports, eating simply, writing. How many of us are to scared to put what we truely believe in, into practice.
We talked more upon the isolation of the thinking mind in Singapore and attainment of true freedom. He is very much like my grandfather, holding onto absolutes, yet still hold very simple and poignant truths in them. His simplicity really struck me, here is a thinking mind, a complex individual with opinions and philosophy, who enjoys time to think and ponder life, much like myself. Yet he is able to hold on to simplicity, something that i can only dream of. In a way, so much like Fr. Keane.
I wish i could write more, but i seem to have trouble expressing myself properly tonight. If you are so blessed to meet this man, I do hope you entertain him, for you might be the one who comes out better for it.
Check him out at www.hideoasano.com
Sunday, July 20, 2008
You wanna know how I got these scars?
My father was a drinker....and a fiend.... and one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn’t like that, not one bit. So, me watching he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says “WHY SO SERIOUS SON?”. He comes at me with the knife “why so serious son?” Sticks the blade in my mouth lets put a smile on that face and….. why so serious
My father was a drinker....and a fiend.... and one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn’t like that, not one bit. So, me watching he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says “WHY SO SERIOUS SON?”. He comes at me with the knife “why so serious son?” Sticks the blade in my mouth lets put a smile on that face and….. why so serious
Friday, July 11, 2008
i'm slipping away so unconsciously, losing more and more of my humanity. whatever little i already had. i feel so distraught, it's amazing how moody i'm becoming, swinging in and out of horrible low mood spells. The a levels are amazing, the damning stress you place on people. i'm treading such a thin line now, losing my beliefs, losing my goal. why the fuck am i doing this? why am i condemned to be so miserable? am i seeking it? is it seeking me? how easily the building collapses when the supports are all gone. support? what support where? they always talk about how they found real true friends in church? where have mine gone? where they even there in the first place? like nothing else really annoys people more than the amount of question marks i can put into a paragraph.
oh despair, despair, thou art a witty creature, ensaring me for years long past, and now you rob me of all tiny glimpses of hope dost thee. i can't remember a time in the last 6 months where i was actually happy. ya eka, you should be scared when i'm unleashed upon society, havok and chaos will reign. i don't fucking care. apathy, maybe that's what i really need, true apathy. a fucking truckload of it. who wallows in self-pity anyway. we should all just me machines, trudge forward day by day, with the boring speeches they play.
oh despair, despair, thou art a witty creature, ensaring me for years long past, and now you rob me of all tiny glimpses of hope dost thee. i can't remember a time in the last 6 months where i was actually happy. ya eka, you should be scared when i'm unleashed upon society, havok and chaos will reign. i don't fucking care. apathy, maybe that's what i really need, true apathy. a fucking truckload of it. who wallows in self-pity anyway. we should all just me machines, trudge forward day by day, with the boring speeches they play.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
through the sins of my life, through my eyes here they balantly taunt me. Like everything that i've ever wanted to do or to have flashing before my eyes. this is not good for me. Oh i tell you! I've become a beach slut. Only suited to wallow each day along the spritely beaches soaking up the suns rays, lazing around doing nothing, lazing around for not a care, lazing around, no responsibilies. that is suddenly where i find myself.
have i burnt out again, fallen into that all too familiar nook, am i to die this way? but it seems so wrong, to be tired out and demoralized before the start of a term. i resolve to be strong! i know what i must do, for after all, he put me here, and by more times than i can count or remember he has shoved me back alone this seemingless cold and fruitless path. Yet i know! it was one where the fruit will grow only when the path is finally trod. [the gates of princeton/oxford/cambridge/jhs awaits]
and he's done much to make it barren and desolate, for the events which encompass my days towards my exams are timely placed so that i may not take part in them. sigh, august, competition- u-23s, competition-acjc students, otherwise known as prelimary exams. the final frontier before the big fall. too bad we have no more terminal examinations. even other endeavours that my heart holds dear are torn and shredded, the calendar has no space for them. after all it is the major examinations year. whereupon such a year can you have time for something frivolous like a relationship, it's a most facetious statement.
give up, give up david!
you have lost much anyway, there was nothing there to begin with, just your imagination run amok. there's nothing in here life but to the dying.
i wish i wish, for war to run it's course, to be over and peace to return to us all. my sunny beaches where i can just lie down and close my eyes as the waves roll on to me, and then be no more.
I worry, now they are all dispersed, all disappeared, will i be able to face this tempestuous storm alone?
if you read this, you, yes you, you know how, AND if you don't you're really silly for missing the clue. i'm worried about you, you're overstressing yourself, you're overworking your burdens and you're applying all the oils of the perfectionist to your brain... i pray you don't burn out my dear, it would be sad to see the fire die inside, and 1st degree burns are difficult to treat and always leave scars. do relax a bit more, stop watching the clock and just concentrate on what you need to do.
have i burnt out again, fallen into that all too familiar nook, am i to die this way? but it seems so wrong, to be tired out and demoralized before the start of a term. i resolve to be strong! i know what i must do, for after all, he put me here, and by more times than i can count or remember he has shoved me back alone this seemingless cold and fruitless path. Yet i know! it was one where the fruit will grow only when the path is finally trod. [the gates of princeton/oxford/cambridge/jhs awaits]
and he's done much to make it barren and desolate, for the events which encompass my days towards my exams are timely placed so that i may not take part in them. sigh, august, competition- u-23s, competition-acjc students, otherwise known as prelimary exams. the final frontier before the big fall. too bad we have no more terminal examinations. even other endeavours that my heart holds dear are torn and shredded, the calendar has no space for them. after all it is the major examinations year. whereupon such a year can you have time for something frivolous like a relationship, it's a most facetious statement.
give up, give up david!
you have lost much anyway, there was nothing there to begin with, just your imagination run amok. there's nothing in here life but to the dying.
i wish i wish, for war to run it's course, to be over and peace to return to us all. my sunny beaches where i can just lie down and close my eyes as the waves roll on to me, and then be no more.
I worry, now they are all dispersed, all disappeared, will i be able to face this tempestuous storm alone?
if you read this, you, yes you, you know how, AND if you don't you're really silly for missing the clue. i'm worried about you, you're overstressing yourself, you're overworking your burdens and you're applying all the oils of the perfectionist to your brain... i pray you don't burn out my dear, it would be sad to see the fire die inside, and 1st degree burns are difficult to treat and always leave scars. do relax a bit more, stop watching the clock and just concentrate on what you need to do.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
this is the end of the world.
the whales stuck out of the beach,
like warheads on the sand,
here,all breached,
drowning in this summer heat.
i reach for your hand and
it's not there.
why did you leave me here,
here alone when for the world to end?
how did the world come this way?
it's like just the other day
we walked this beach alone,
the sand in our toes,
with nothing to care,
just the clouds in the air.
then they came, flipped the world
upside down, in their hands, they hold
her, crushing away the life.
take be back to winter,
when we grew the lilies behind the old garden shed.
a nightmare came one day and brought the sun out again,
and he tore away all the pure white snow,
and brought with him the evils, the heat, the wind.
and then they came, from amongst us,
they've been hiding since a long time ago,
they brought down the towers and opened the castle door,
and into our lives, they stormed tempestuous.
ever treacherously threatening to throw out
the bombs and betray the world.
my world.
and our soldiers fought one by one and fell,
liked fields ripe for the plucking, they fell,
each one, adding to the torrent, here they fell.
and the sea of blood drenched the inner city walls,
amidst the purple skies of summer.
even the kangaroorats hid in their holes,
a break from their feasting on sour corpses bleeding
to hide from them, the evils.
the world had fallen in two days.
and you said to me,
'i'll stay with you always'
but you disappeared into nothingness,
along with your quiet whispers,
fading away, from this very world,
i don't think i can last any longer...
they caught up with me today,
and in the cell they left a needle,
this hypodermic syringe, and here a knife,
a pill, oh sweet death that they have left me!
a cure they said for what was to come.
and then it began, from the dawn of day to the dust,
the terrible treatment at the hands of the evil,
for no information was i to give them,
and...and they promised me that you'll come back,
a sweet sweet promise, my dear love...
a masque for the lies they instilled in my head.
oh how i'm beginning to forget your kiss.
everyday my head explodes from the pain,
a few short memories here and there, this pain.
my brain wants to escape it all,
the voices, the delusions, the hallucinations.
here's to the endgame.
i reach for the needle,
and yet you stop me with your gentle hand,
and yet you're not there. it was my imagination bent,
broken and destroyed.
and then it happened,
it broke, the dam destroyed, the river flowed.
my mind caved in and died,
oh but sweet freedom, as the light shot from my eye...
heart beating, faster and faster,
coursing sweet energy, no more pain.
and i killed them all, a single thought,
choked them all and buried them in their technological fortress.
the whales stuck out of the beach,
like warheads on the sand,
here,all breached,
drowning in this summer heat.
i reach for your hand and
it's not there.
why did you leave me here,
here alone when for the world to end?
how did the world come this way?
it's like just the other day
we walked this beach alone,
the sand in our toes,
with nothing to care,
just the clouds in the air.
then they came, flipped the world
upside down, in their hands, they hold
her, crushing away the life.
take be back to winter,
when we grew the lilies behind the old garden shed.
a nightmare came one day and brought the sun out again,
and he tore away all the pure white snow,
and brought with him the evils, the heat, the wind.
and then they came, from amongst us,
they've been hiding since a long time ago,
they brought down the towers and opened the castle door,
and into our lives, they stormed tempestuous.
ever treacherously threatening to throw out
the bombs and betray the world.
my world.
and our soldiers fought one by one and fell,
liked fields ripe for the plucking, they fell,
each one, adding to the torrent, here they fell.
and the sea of blood drenched the inner city walls,
amidst the purple skies of summer.
even the kangaroorats hid in their holes,
a break from their feasting on sour corpses bleeding
to hide from them, the evils.
the world had fallen in two days.
and you said to me,
'i'll stay with you always'
but you disappeared into nothingness,
along with your quiet whispers,
fading away, from this very world,
i don't think i can last any longer...
they caught up with me today,
and in the cell they left a needle,
this hypodermic syringe, and here a knife,
a pill, oh sweet death that they have left me!
a cure they said for what was to come.
and then it began, from the dawn of day to the dust,
the terrible treatment at the hands of the evil,
for no information was i to give them,
and...and they promised me that you'll come back,
a sweet sweet promise, my dear love...
a masque for the lies they instilled in my head.
oh how i'm beginning to forget your kiss.
everyday my head explodes from the pain,
a few short memories here and there, this pain.
my brain wants to escape it all,
the voices, the delusions, the hallucinations.
here's to the endgame.
i reach for the needle,
and yet you stop me with your gentle hand,
and yet you're not there. it was my imagination bent,
broken and destroyed.
and then it happened,
it broke, the dam destroyed, the river flowed.
my mind caved in and died,
oh but sweet freedom, as the light shot from my eye...
heart beating, faster and faster,
coursing sweet energy, no more pain.
and i killed them all, a single thought,
choked them all and buried them in their technological fortress.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
I haven't actually been high in a damn long time, i'd almost actually forgot the feeling. The almost out-of-body astral feeling. The weird lag time inbetween wanting to move your limbs and the actual movement, as though you were watching yourself move from afar. The depressant part of the effect. Then the was the part where you feel all high, in your head, while everything else is lagging, your mind is just zooming down thought lanes, the stimulant part of ethanol. i definitely need to do this again soon!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Freak.
I am a freak.
i serve as torment to a life that shouldn't have been.
In mind, in genes, in everything.
there isn't any way in which i can measure such monstrosity.
this that hath been born out of clay, of ash, of silt,
put here on earth, this planet zoo.
why?
i don't know...
will anything ever come easy?
when will all this end?
I am a freak.
i serve as torment to a life that shouldn't have been.
In mind, in genes, in everything.
there isn't any way in which i can measure such monstrosity.
this that hath been born out of clay, of ash, of silt,
put here on earth, this planet zoo.
why?
i don't know...
will anything ever come easy?
when will all this end?
Saturday, May 17, 2008
one year past, one new year,
here at long last, a decade over.
beware little boy, with eyes and ears
listen to the morning song.
in it only the dawn of new beginings,
the finale of all endings,
a sharpened cry at the world.
begone little boy,
you are no more, this world's been placed on
your shoulders.
weeping and crying, this burden you carry
on such small shoulders.
here at long last, a decade over.
one year past, one new year.
here at long last, a decade over.
beware little boy, with eyes and ears
listen to the morning song.
in it only the dawn of new beginings,
the finale of all endings,
a sharpened cry at the world.
begone little boy,
you are no more, this world's been placed on
your shoulders.
weeping and crying, this burden you carry
on such small shoulders.
here at long last, a decade over.
one year past, one new year.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Lesson learnt?
we stand here in the burning rain,
staring into the distance,
the pain, the rage, the tears
tearing at our hearts, at our minds,
just one question: why?
cold water from above splashes on,
searing wounds, the pain gushes out,
in like streaks, what's your lesson?
and the whiteboard written in blood
a streak across every little mark...
no answer can you give
(could you even think of one?)
to be built, a resilience?
a character? a serial killer?
why the scars are cut across this face.
all around never fading..
the tears are falling.
staring into the distance,
the pain, the rage, the tears
tearing at our hearts, at our minds,
just one question: why?
cold water from above splashes on,
searing wounds, the pain gushes out,
in like streaks, what's your lesson?
and the whiteboard written in blood
a streak across every little mark...
no answer can you give
(could you even think of one?)
to be built, a resilience?
a character? a serial killer?
why the scars are cut across this face.
all around never fading..
the tears are falling.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
In this cold sea of red,
it drips, it drips, it drips...
hear the old fangled seamen's lips.
they speak of times past
all clothed in this red.
the girl she stood there in the water,
she drowns there in your arms
(why didn't you save her?)
the red flows over, the blood on her lips
spoke a tale of love and passion unheard.
the rain it falls, from the cuts and the scrapes,
bleeding from the wounds that wound
around the body.
raining, raining, this bloody rain!
STOP STOP STOP!
his head explodes a bullet now grasps his brain.
ideally a killer's deficeit.
and into his head you would see all the thoughts,
see the pretty lady, at the tree of the dead.
ici, à la mort. agacé.
célestes feux brûlent les méchants mort.
you cannot save me.
you die trying,
crying in the rain.
the wicked lies (you delude yourself).
here in dreams of painted wishes burning up to ashes,
in the frequent place where the body crashes.
bury me. cleanse me. purge me. burn me.
it drips, it drips, it drips...
hear the old fangled seamen's lips.
they speak of times past
all clothed in this red.
the girl she stood there in the water,
she drowns there in your arms
(why didn't you save her?)
the red flows over, the blood on her lips
spoke a tale of love and passion unheard.
the rain it falls, from the cuts and the scrapes,
bleeding from the wounds that wound
around the body.
raining, raining, this bloody rain!
STOP STOP STOP!
his head explodes a bullet now grasps his brain.
ideally a killer's deficeit.
and into his head you would see all the thoughts,
see the pretty lady, at the tree of the dead.
ici, à la mort. agacé.
célestes feux brûlent les méchants mort.
you cannot save me.
you die trying,
crying in the rain.
the wicked lies (you delude yourself).
here in dreams of painted wishes burning up to ashes,
in the frequent place where the body crashes.
bury me. cleanse me. purge me. burn me.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
chapter one.
as they walked on from the mountain fall,
up the valley to winter's warmth.
they were running, running away
from april's cruel showers, to find spring.
up on mount ziijah, the path they travelled fades..
'oh ennuya!' he said, 'the path has been split by spades,
a jumbled jigsaw all barren and laid'
'oh but dear,
to the telesect we must make a way, which way?
which way?'
then the ghosts spoke in constant tone,
hushed,
soft in whispers that went to the bone:
they said, 'ennuya ennuya, thy young hand laid upon the rock,
you flee! you flee, without nothing more you spoke a smile no further.
you must return...flee this city of letters,
return to your seas'
but the deed was done, and the monsters had come,
worse than titans encased in stone, mould and earth,
a murders they committed, yet in mind, they spoke no evil.
surely a madman's pure wish, the ignorance of the sin,
but yet in lies the devil, ever in charming plain site hideth.
he awaits more madness, to frolic in, he awaits in this tainted inn.
and as quick as it had come to mount Ziijah, the fellows watched
as the grass, a green army of leafy blades sprung up,
again to bury the dead.
no one remembers, no one's been.
the telesect remains away hidden still unseen.
so aunty agnes, to tea you promised,
a great cup if you please, two milks and a sugar,
thank you.
you say she sprung froth of the golden
abyss?
aye she, she hath caused many a pain like
that of the one of the froth of chronos came. she
she drugs your brain, like they all do. tear apart
the simple equation and it's frame.
infectious powers,
men and women all the same.
aye, a cake if you please.
scrurry scrurry, the rodents ran ahead,
now the rain rails rigidly rampant again.
a storm in the middle of may.
the ships quake and quiver,
quenching back bitter tears of salvation at last,
offer to them at this period of rest,
when waves pounded round and round the ships' back.
oh sailor, sailor,
help me up to the gallows, a green string
will run around my neck.
where be you from?
phoenicia,
where alex rules supreme--
nay,
a depressed thought, as the spider runs down my lane.
his venom encompassing my veins.
quickly sailor pull the chord, let nothing remain.
and at last the sea turned calm.
into ice it floated down stream,
off the side of the world, inasmuch
it slide away to be held so silently, tired and bloody.
ringing out the pain. mark those words laddy.
up the valley to winter's warmth.
they were running, running away
from april's cruel showers, to find spring.
up on mount ziijah, the path they travelled fades..
'oh ennuya!' he said, 'the path has been split by spades,
a jumbled jigsaw all barren and laid'
'oh but dear,
to the telesect we must make a way, which way?
which way?'
then the ghosts spoke in constant tone,
hushed,
soft in whispers that went to the bone:
they said, 'ennuya ennuya, thy young hand laid upon the rock,
you flee! you flee, without nothing more you spoke a smile no further.
you must return...flee this city of letters,
return to your seas'
but the deed was done, and the monsters had come,
worse than titans encased in stone, mould and earth,
a murders they committed, yet in mind, they spoke no evil.
surely a madman's pure wish, the ignorance of the sin,
but yet in lies the devil, ever in charming plain site hideth.
he awaits more madness, to frolic in, he awaits in this tainted inn.
and as quick as it had come to mount Ziijah, the fellows watched
as the grass, a green army of leafy blades sprung up,
again to bury the dead.
no one remembers, no one's been.
the telesect remains away hidden still unseen.
so aunty agnes, to tea you promised,
a great cup if you please, two milks and a sugar,
thank you.
you say she sprung froth of the golden
abyss?
aye she, she hath caused many a pain like
that of the one of the froth of chronos came. she
she drugs your brain, like they all do. tear apart
the simple equation and it's frame.
infectious powers,
men and women all the same.
aye, a cake if you please.
scrurry scrurry, the rodents ran ahead,
now the rain rails rigidly rampant again.
a storm in the middle of may.
the ships quake and quiver,
quenching back bitter tears of salvation at last,
offer to them at this period of rest,
when waves pounded round and round the ships' back.
oh sailor, sailor,
help me up to the gallows, a green string
will run around my neck.
where be you from?
phoenicia,
where alex rules supreme--
nay,
a depressed thought, as the spider runs down my lane.
his venom encompassing my veins.
quickly sailor pull the chord, let nothing remain.
and at last the sea turned calm.
into ice it floated down stream,
off the side of the world, inasmuch
it slide away to be held so silently, tired and bloody.
ringing out the pain. mark those words laddy.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
a life without.
a random piece of consciousness.
here the world seems to charm the fragrance round the bend, into anonymity, hiding from the background, away from the paints and the brushes and the greens and reds and oranges. an apple from the tree, the doctor, he wouldn't see me. it lies ahead upon the starry bank, where eliot sat, next reid and a quarter of einstein. he believed in awesome relativity. so you look now for a time that is played backward here in your head, a sick boy alone in his bed, shivering the fever playing out its dread, bodyaches and dripping muscus membranes. coughing up blood ever you see it. and then i told him jim, jim i said, you can't place the slant in a bedroom wall's rant of many many things and the ever patient man told me that the world's just going to fall sideways in a transient dream anyway, better to focus the camera in on a dream, away from the skulls, in iraq's sideways gleam. that's all very right and well but what about the ziijah and the telesect away from here where they would play. almost certain the doom and gloom write away from all the flagrant thoughts that add the fire and make them walk all crooked and stiff, down the wrong alley into bankman's palace. jim oh jim where did you go today? we sat living a dream in the living room floor, lee's pizza on the sofa, half eaten, a fetid attempt to consumer the world, flattened into 8 slices and a junk of pepperoni induces some calm nightmares of the world the sea in temperate. she walked on by, down by the beaches the world passed and the shadows hid from her last glance, her eyes, such a pretty treasure, as her eyes, they took themselves and wondered the world in wandering, this ennuay where the evening sat so filled with a lobster and champaign at that. i can't find the world again, not since the last time it blew up in my face, a lesson unlearned, it followed the sun round and round and and the place where it was last seen collided together in a some far of dream....
here the world seems to charm the fragrance round the bend, into anonymity, hiding from the background, away from the paints and the brushes and the greens and reds and oranges. an apple from the tree, the doctor, he wouldn't see me. it lies ahead upon the starry bank, where eliot sat, next reid and a quarter of einstein. he believed in awesome relativity. so you look now for a time that is played backward here in your head, a sick boy alone in his bed, shivering the fever playing out its dread, bodyaches and dripping muscus membranes. coughing up blood ever you see it. and then i told him jim, jim i said, you can't place the slant in a bedroom wall's rant of many many things and the ever patient man told me that the world's just going to fall sideways in a transient dream anyway, better to focus the camera in on a dream, away from the skulls, in iraq's sideways gleam. that's all very right and well but what about the ziijah and the telesect away from here where they would play. almost certain the doom and gloom write away from all the flagrant thoughts that add the fire and make them walk all crooked and stiff, down the wrong alley into bankman's palace. jim oh jim where did you go today? we sat living a dream in the living room floor, lee's pizza on the sofa, half eaten, a fetid attempt to consumer the world, flattened into 8 slices and a junk of pepperoni induces some calm nightmares of the world the sea in temperate. she walked on by, down by the beaches the world passed and the shadows hid from her last glance, her eyes, such a pretty treasure, as her eyes, they took themselves and wondered the world in wandering, this ennuay where the evening sat so filled with a lobster and champaign at that. i can't find the world again, not since the last time it blew up in my face, a lesson unlearned, it followed the sun round and round and and the place where it was last seen collided together in a some far of dream....
Sunday, April 20, 2008
one year gone.
it's been one year old man,
since you left us bereaved.
walked your way up those white steps
to heaven's great relief.
a life lived long and hard,
you deserved the rest.
so so long ago, it seemed
like the beginning of the end.
a time that evils teemed
of lost ways and forgotten understandings.
why did you have to go?
oh i miss you so...
i hear in my heart, your voice
the deep hearty voice
that boomed on nonsense of lewis carol,
of walruses and carpenters,
of stories far and distant,
of the laughter that arose.
replayed in eidetic.
you watch over us at night,
i feel you behind me ever peering,
ever watching, like before
when i was small
and i'd fall
and upon your shoulders you raised me
to see the world.
i will be home soon.
since you left us bereaved.
walked your way up those white steps
to heaven's great relief.
a life lived long and hard,
you deserved the rest.
so so long ago, it seemed
like the beginning of the end.
a time that evils teemed
of lost ways and forgotten understandings.
why did you have to go?
oh i miss you so...
i hear in my heart, your voice
the deep hearty voice
that boomed on nonsense of lewis carol,
of walruses and carpenters,
of stories far and distant,
of the laughter that arose.
replayed in eidetic.
you watch over us at night,
i feel you behind me ever peering,
ever watching, like before
when i was small
and i'd fall
and upon your shoulders you raised me
to see the world.
i will be home soon.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Leaving New York
REM
it's quiet now
and what it brings
is everything
comes calling back
a brilliant night
I'm still awake
I looked ahead
I'm sure I saw you there
you don't need me
to tell you now
that nothing can compare
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
now life is sweet
and what it brings
I try to take
but loneliness
it wears me out
it lies in wait
and all not lost
still in my eye,
the shadow of necklace
across your thigh, I might've lived my life in a
dream but I swear it.
this is real.
memory fuses
and shatters like glass,
mercurial future, forget the past
it's you
it's what I feel
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
you find it in your heart,
it's pulling me apart,
you find it in your heart, change
I told you, forever
I love you forever.
I told you i love you
I love you forever
you never, you never
you told me forever...
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
REM
it's quiet now
and what it brings
is everything
comes calling back
a brilliant night
I'm still awake
I looked ahead
I'm sure I saw you there
you don't need me
to tell you now
that nothing can compare
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
now life is sweet
and what it brings
I try to take
but loneliness
it wears me out
it lies in wait
and all not lost
still in my eye,
the shadow of necklace
across your thigh, I might've lived my life in a
dream but I swear it.
this is real.
memory fuses
and shatters like glass,
mercurial future, forget the past
it's you
it's what I feel
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
you find it in your heart,
it's pulling me apart,
you find it in your heart, change
I told you, forever
I love you forever.
I told you i love you
I love you forever
you never, you never
you told me forever...
you might have laughed if I told you
you might have hidden a frown.
you might have succeeded in changing me
I might have been turned around.
it's easier to leave
than to be left behind
leaving was never my proud.
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
leaving new york, never easy.
I saw the light fading out
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