When I was little, I loved doing puzzles. All sorts of puzzles. From math to jigsaw to those where you have to trace the line to identify which fish Joe caught. I also liked to play connecting the dots. It’s an experience in itself when you trace through the numbers and see your creation come to life.
And one thing I learnt from playing connecting the dots. There are no shortcuts. You need to move from 1 to 2 to 3 and so on. Otherwise, you end up with a mess, and you can’t see what the thing was meant to be.
Like being caught in the muddle of life, unable to trace any meaning or value or worth to your existence. Until you figure out that 2 follows 1 and 3 follows 2. “Step by Step” was the motto in my primary school.
I’m ready to take the next step now.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
tHe LoGic oF PaCkiNg
Packing, whether for a trip or vacation or moving houses, always starts off with the best of intentions.
There is this initial period of rational, logical, thinking. Where you try to categorize and organize the things you need to pack into groups. And this initial period tends to be slow, measured, thoughtful. For each piece of thing that you pick up, brings with it memories. It is as if they have a life of their own and a story to tell as well.
But as time goes by, your energy sags, weighed down by their stories. By this time, you no longer hold the book or dress or CD and try to remember where you bought them, when you last used them. Your thoughts are perhaps not as logical, but impulsive.
And right at the end, the packing becomes a frenzy as the day of your departure draws near. Things no longer stand in and for themselves, they become thrown together in a heap of near confusion.
I don’t remember where or how or with whom I got this T-shirt I’m wearing today. In fact, I look at my room and I don’t remember how each piece of thing came into being.
I wish I could.
There is this initial period of rational, logical, thinking. Where you try to categorize and organize the things you need to pack into groups. And this initial period tends to be slow, measured, thoughtful. For each piece of thing that you pick up, brings with it memories. It is as if they have a life of their own and a story to tell as well.
But as time goes by, your energy sags, weighed down by their stories. By this time, you no longer hold the book or dress or CD and try to remember where you bought them, when you last used them. Your thoughts are perhaps not as logical, but impulsive.
And right at the end, the packing becomes a frenzy as the day of your departure draws near. Things no longer stand in and for themselves, they become thrown together in a heap of near confusion.
I don’t remember where or how or with whom I got this T-shirt I’m wearing today. In fact, I look at my room and I don’t remember how each piece of thing came into being.
I wish I could.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
aNotHeR PoEM
And yet again, the deep darkness comes
Tranquil, comforting, safe
The night vibrates with insects’ hums
I sit by my window
Looking out into the darkness
Wondering, wandering, what lies below
Far away the moon sheds its light
A round, glowing, orb
And they call me a child of the night
Tranquil, comforting, safe
The night vibrates with insects’ hums
I sit by my window
Looking out into the darkness
Wondering, wandering, what lies below
Far away the moon sheds its light
A round, glowing, orb
And they call me a child of the night
Monday, August 27, 2007
gOoDniGhT
They are having a fight again. And this time, as always, is worst than the last time.
C is sitting down, looking at the floor, pouting. B is striding up and down, huffing and puffing.
C says that since she got there first, she should have that. B claims that he is stronger, so he should have that.
That is being clutched tightly by C, while B tries desperately to lunge at that.
And this childish war of epic proportions continue, while I struggle to go on in life without that.
Sleepless, starry, silver, night.
C is sitting down, looking at the floor, pouting. B is striding up and down, huffing and puffing.
C says that since she got there first, she should have that. B claims that he is stronger, so he should have that.
That is being clutched tightly by C, while B tries desperately to lunge at that.
And this childish war of epic proportions continue, while I struggle to go on in life without that.
Sleepless, starry, silver, night.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
LiViNG bY tHe SeA
I succumbed to the call of the sea again. And this time, I ventured out further than I have ever tried before.
In my mind, I was like a dog paddling to the rock ridge out from the beach, so that I can sit on it and ponder the world. I barely made it, panting and all.
Being in the sea does things to you.
Distances become difficult to measure because there’s just this vast expanse of water around you. You feel so alone, it can be scary.
Distances become easy excuses to step away from people for a bit and be by yourself. You feel so alone, it can be comforting.
I think I would like to live by the sea.
In my mind, I was like a dog paddling to the rock ridge out from the beach, so that I can sit on it and ponder the world. I barely made it, panting and all.
Being in the sea does things to you.
Distances become difficult to measure because there’s just this vast expanse of water around you. You feel so alone, it can be scary.
Distances become easy excuses to step away from people for a bit and be by yourself. You feel so alone, it can be comforting.
I think I would like to live by the sea.
mEMoRy
When you left, you left behind many things. Many things that remind me of you. Some of these things I hold tight in my dreams. Some of these things I wish I could forget. And sometimes, I suddenly remember, you.
My ballet teacher likes to say that your body will remember the stretches that you do, so the more you practice, the more your body will remember.
Memory, is a very strange being.
My ballet teacher likes to say that your body will remember the stretches that you do, so the more you practice, the more your body will remember.
Memory, is a very strange being.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
reLaTiONshiPs
Family, they make you laugh, they make you cry.
Friends, they make you happy, they make you sad.
Human relationships are complicated, complex.
And they can be tiring, exhausting.
Yet if you put in the effort, relationships can be rewarding. Interactions can be meaningful. Actions can be fun.
If there was something I could hang onto, I would have fought hard for us.
Friends, they make you happy, they make you sad.
Human relationships are complicated, complex.
And they can be tiring, exhausting.
Yet if you put in the effort, relationships can be rewarding. Interactions can be meaningful. Actions can be fun.
If there was something I could hang onto, I would have fought hard for us.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
a QuOTe
“Some birds are not meant to be caged. Their feathers are too colourful. And when they fly away, the part of you that knew it was a sin to cage them rejoices. I guess I just miss my friend.”
I think I heard this from Shawshank Redemption.
I think I heard this from Shawshank Redemption.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
fUrRY AniMaLs
Animals make me happy. Furry animals make me happy. Big furry animals make me happy. I love to hug them and tickle them and bury my face in their fur.
If I weren’t such a scaredy cat about blood and useless at science, I would have loved to become a zoologist. Or a zookeeper, but then cleaning up animal shit is not exactly what I’m after either.
I guess I just love playing with dogs. They have this innocence in their big wide watery eyes that draws you to them.
And always this tacit understanding that you will protect them and they will protect you. Like a friend whom you can trust implicitly.
Nose-kisses from dogs make me really high.
If I weren’t such a scaredy cat about blood and useless at science, I would have loved to become a zoologist. Or a zookeeper, but then cleaning up animal shit is not exactly what I’m after either.
I guess I just love playing with dogs. They have this innocence in their big wide watery eyes that draws you to them.
And always this tacit understanding that you will protect them and they will protect you. Like a friend whom you can trust implicitly.
Nose-kisses from dogs make me really high.
Friday, August 17, 2007
tO YoU...
... who believe in me much more than I believe in myself.
Some goodbyes are harder to say than others.
Some hugs you wish you could hold in your arms forever.
Some moments linger and play themselves in your mind over and over.
But I suppose it is time.
Go well, my friend.
“Goodbye” is the hardest word to say. I hope I won’t choke.
Some goodbyes are harder to say than others.
Some hugs you wish you could hold in your arms forever.
Some moments linger and play themselves in your mind over and over.
But I suppose it is time.
Go well, my friend.
“Goodbye” is the hardest word to say. I hope I won’t choke.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
bEiNG mE
The rain is falling in sleek threads that join the sky and ground.
Somewhere, two crows are arguing.
The strains of “The Prayer” are playing in the background. Charlotte Church and Josh Groban. I wish I had a voice that could sing so beautifully.
I wish. I wish. I wish. I wish a hundred million wishes.
But you know what? Sometimes it is enough just to be me.
Somewhere, two crows are arguing.
The strains of “The Prayer” are playing in the background. Charlotte Church and Josh Groban. I wish I had a voice that could sing so beautifully.
I wish. I wish. I wish. I wish a hundred million wishes.
But you know what? Sometimes it is enough just to be me.
LoSt
A piece of gauze has fitted itself over her being. The world feels muffled.
Like the spaces between waking and dreaming. Soft spaces. Shifty sand.
The little mermaid gave up her being and her voice so that she could have legs like a human, in the hope that the prince will love her. But he did not.
She lost her mermaid soul. For the love of a man who did not love her back.
What have you lost?
Like the spaces between waking and dreaming. Soft spaces. Shifty sand.
The little mermaid gave up her being and her voice so that she could have legs like a human, in the hope that the prince will love her. But he did not.
She lost her mermaid soul. For the love of a man who did not love her back.
What have you lost?
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