This was the year

This was the year that change would be made.
This was the year that I thought would be remarkable, that change would be made.
This was the year, after crappy 07, that I thought would be remarkable, that change would be made.
This was the year, that I had great plans for, after crappy 07, that I thought would be remarkable, that change would be made.

This was the year.

And now that year has gone, mostly, nothing's changed much. Feels like I've failed to stick to the plan but always at that moment, sticking to the plan felt like giving up spontanaeity or a great opportunity and I would have failed myself. So what am I supposed to do? To think? There just isn't an answer that won't change in two weeks. What do I feel in my bones and my gut other than the onset of rheumatism and hyperacidity? Have the last 5 years been for nothing?

Perhaps. Repressing the inner bitch - yes, what you've seen this 5 years is repressed. you have no idea what full blown bitchy is - has maybe gained me 2 more friends. Or retained the original 4, depending on how you choose to look at it. And now I'm told not to give diplomatic answers when I take the time to think about things objectively. Like - wtf. You cannot handle my honest, albeit mostly biased, opinion. It will send you flying off that little handle you cling on to so dearly and make me look like the devil which I am. Think you're tough enough? You're not.

But so what. Can I continue to 'be myself' and enjoy wallowing in cynicism for the rest of my isolated existence or do I stick with this pleasant, at times cursing out of frustration but otherwise plebian disposition? I don't even know if either would make me happy. And since when did I not know what makes me happy? And since when did I care what anybody else thought?

For those who feel it sometimes... or want to feel it..

I turn on the tap and run some water
Flick a little switch on the wall
I'm hoping you remember what I taught ya
I'm hoping you remember me at all

I'm strong, but I feel like a mouse when you're gone
Yes, and I'm weak, but I'll take on the world when you're here with me
With me
Can't you see you're in the wrong place,
Will you please face it and come home
When I think about your sweet face
I can't wait for you to come home
I can see you've got a real taste for that champagne
But it's all gone
So come home
The kettle's on

I've got a little something on my mind
To keep it to myself isn't really very kind
Pouring out my heart isn't usually my style
But you gave me an inch so I'm gonna take a mile,

You see
I'm strong, but I feel like a mouse when you're gone
Yes, and I'm weak, but I'll take on the world when you're here with me
With me
Can't you see you're in the wrong place,
Will you please face it and come home
When I think about your sweet face
I can't wait for you to come home
I can see you've got a real taste for that champagne
But it's all gone
So come home
The kettle's on

yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah

Can't you see you're in the wrong place,
Will you please face it and come home
When I think about your sweet face
I can't wait for you to come home

- Kettle's On, The Feeling.

nowhere near. nowhere near at all.

These days....

People in love get fast and foolish
People in love get everything wrong
People in love get scared and stupid
People in love get everything wrong

At least they're not lonely
At least they're not lonely
Never Be Lonely

BBBBaby I think I'm going CCCCrazy
And why should I be sane without you

They tell me to fight it
But they can bloody well just try it
Ill never be the same without you

People in love get special treatment
People in love get everything wrong
People in love their hearts get eaten
People in love get everything wrong

At least they're not lonely
At least they're not lonely
Never Be Lonely

BBBBaby I think I'm going CCCCrazy
And why should I be sane without you

They tell me to fight it
But they can bloody well just try it
Ill never be the same without you

Never Be lonely

- never be lonely, twelve stops and home, The Feeling

i am drunk, smell the booze
and the puke that's on my shoes
i'm just glad they'er not the jimmy choos
there is nothing in my cupboard that can wake me from my slumber
except maybe be a bottle or two.

when i am drunk, i get crass
i pull jokes out from my ass
they get better from the second glass
if i want to be a singer i'll buy every one 3 tigers
and they'll think, when i sing, i'm the best!

i get drunk with my friends
there are no limits to the cans
just as long as we have the buck to spend
at the kopi tiam or pub, in a restaurant or a club
we get drunk, have so much fun, that's the plan!

Meeting Pauline

The prospect of a meeting with Pauline has always been met with mixed feelings on my part. It's alot like walking by a huge magnifying mirror - you're excited by the new things you'll find out about yourself and at the same time, terrified that you'll see too much. But perhaps a mirror isn't the most accurate comparison. Pauline is more like a super x-ray machine for your soul and every other part of you that comes with it. Imagine, it's been more than 8 months since we last met and the first thing she said to me was "You've changed. Something about you is different. Its not just or the way you look or your hair but the way you carry yourself. Have you g0ne thru something that's quite major?"

That just struck waaaaay too close to home. And that wasn't the end of it. We got round to talking about the DCCSE and the x-ray vision came on again.

"Is that your calling?"

Wah biang. It was really the one question, even more than "how did you decide to do it?", that I'd been struggling with and DID NOT want to want to answer. It's not as if I could anyway. Long story short, I was honest and said no. I'm still waiting for the calling but call-waiting adds to the bills, not pay them so it's an interim activity until, if ever, I get it.

Really, is this another one of the signs? Was this the lesson I've come back to learn? Is it really a sign if you have to decide what it means? What good is an arrow with two heads? It's so frustrating!!

Self Indulgence

Have you experienced, in your life, a moment of pure panic so intense that it is nauseating? Your stomach is churning as you look out the bus window and see the blinding headlights whizz by like all the opportunities you have had the luck to miss. You squint hard, but before you regain your vision you are caught by a debilitating migrane that paralyses your body and slowly begins to choke you as you struggle to breathe. You press your fist against your mouth and swallow at the faint taste of bile at the back of your throat and the beginnings of a familiar tremor courses through your body. You are desperate to reach for the bell but you have no idea where you are. Around you are only shadows of overgrown angsana trees with their gnarly branches reaching for you. As if things couldn't be worse, you see that you had made the disastrous decision to take the first available seat on the bus - the seat in the reverse directi0n. The seat from where you cannot see where you are headed. A barrage of irrational self-doubts exploded in your head - What if the bus that you boarded was not the one that you saw driving into the bus bay? What if the route of the bus has changed since you last took it? Why didn't you double check the bus number before you left the office why didn't you double check the bus number when you boarded? Why didn't-

And your free fall into self-recrimination slams unceremoniously into what is known as the rock bottom of your self-esteem. Behind your tightly shut eyelids you see the face of the passengers on the bus. Faces that you remember so clearly because you had decided to take the seat in the reverse direction - facing the back of the bus. Now every-fucking-one from that sneering brat in the school uniform to the leery old man to the smirking fash-vic duo has witnessed your shameless breakdown in all its pitiful glory. There is no redemption. Your only hope, is a quick - no, instantaneous - death.

WOOO!!! it was a good night except for maybe Kazakhstan. But they played well. Any my back is broke! haha.. feels like it anyway, after moving both my 2 mattresses and wardrobe around within the miniscule space of my bedroom and now I eagerly await my new shelf!! hee I would give myself a huge pat on the back if not for the fact that it feels broke and the arms arent terribly flexible either.

So the room looks like a disaster site, parents are rooting thru the trash that they insist I throw out then claim that I'm wasteful, back is shattered, Chef course has been postponed and I'm taking the brief for an event that'll hopefully come thru and take me to the middle east.

I am strangely excited by Life.

I'm Baaaaaack!!

Hmm.. just realised that a loose 'r' in my title can change things. Maybe it can be McCain's next campaign slogan : I'm Baaaack, Baaaraaaack!

*Disclaimer:I have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to the elections and all opinions expressed are ignorant.

EHHH-NIE-WHEYS......

F1 Fever has struck!! Yes! I am an official F1 Groupie. Went to Millenia to catch Nico Rosberg giving away some prize to some dude. He really looked like a princess, no kidding. But he was nice about stopping for autographs and pictures. I think he looked quite bummed that the crowd was so thin.. what were the organisers thinking, really? There were less than 20 people there and he was supposed to have been there for 2.5hrs! *tupid *ing*poreans.

EHN-DEEHHN....

This here groupie played hide-and-seek with the security dudes around the GP Circuit, climbing barriers and all that and took alot of pictures that don't make sense and alot more other pictures that all you living overseas or Singaporeans who can't be arsed to make the trip down can download and claim as pics you took while you were here. All you need is a picture of you standing against a white background. Photoshop rocks.

*Note for users: Please make sure that the outfit you are wearing in the above photos are what you's wear when you go out. Translucent and holey wifebeaters with boxers are NOT suitable AT ALL. Do wear appropriate footwear.

Fine. If that's the way you want it, then that's the way it'll be. I'm not going to bother with the heartache anymore. You are dead to me.

Nada surf

In blizzard of '77
The cars were just lumps on the snow
And then later
Tripping in 7-11
The shelves were stretching out of control
On a plane ride
The more it shakes
The more i have to let go
Now the signals
Still getting all mixed up
We're always doing damage control
But in the middle of the night i worry
It's blurry even without light
I know i have got a negative edge
That's why i sharpen all the others a lot
It's like flowers or ladybugs
Pretty weeds or red beetles with dots
[chorus]
I miss you more than i knew
[repeat]

SATC

And like a lover you thought you've finally been able to let go of, these little desires return and sneakily creep up under your skin. And even as you are it coming, you are unable to stop its advent. And you wonder if you were ever right to let go . And if who you've decided to be is really who you want to be.

And oh, I'm into you and
Girl no one else would do
With every kiss and every hug
You make me fall in love
And now I know I can't be the only one
I bet there's hearts all over the world tonight
With the love of their life who feel
What I feel when I'm with you

~Chris Brown, With you.

Masque

Friday Night:

"You have a face that is hiding something. What are you hiding?"

"What's your story, Jasmine?"

I don't have one, I'm sorry.

Life

"Paper Boats"

Sit on a train, reading a book
Same damn planet every time i look
Try to relax and slow my heartbeat
Only works when i'm dead asleep
Been thinking and drinking all over the town
Must be gearing up for some kind of melt-down
All i am is a body floating down-wind
What's wrong?
Nothing
Are you sure nothing's wrong?
Yeah
But you're sad about something
Yeah
So tell me what
I don't know
I can't tell you
All i am is a body floating down-wind
As the express train passes the local
It moves by just like a paper boat
Although it weighs a million pounds
I swear it almost seems to float
And as we pass by each other
Our heads all full of bother
We can't look, we can't stop
We can't think, we can't stop
Because we're stuck in our own paths
And it's the way it always lasts
But i need something more from you

I am so angry with myself. I am so resentful of this place but I am still more angry at myself than anything. Angry that I let myself fall into the trap of thinking that this place is or could be more than the godforsaken prison that I'd tried so hard to leave. Angry that I'd wasted my time and my youth trying to give this place a chance that it never deserved. Angry that I'd simply avoided the bits I didn't like to lead this deceitful life and letting reality rear its ugly face to bite my ass so hard.

I am so angry with myself because I was the one who decided to put myself in this cesspool of mediocrity, dumbing down and false pretenses and now I have no means to undo it.

I hate this place. You all can go fuck your pathetic, average lives. I hope you are happy with yourselves.

Piss out.

There is an ache in my heart
I know not where it comes from
Well maybe I do, but don't tell me

There is a longing in my soul
I don't know what it wants
Well perhaps I see it, but haven't reached for it

When the clouds drift overhead
And the wind sings to me of a dream
A fantasy plays out in slivers of white to a backdrop of rich black velvet
The vision almost real enough to touch entices then shatters into mere shards
Leaving the anxious rustle of fronds to fill the emptiness

Another way to paradise

There's something to be said about the use of images of poor, destitute African children (I assume they're African because the videos are inevitably in black and white) in promotional material that help their cause. Without fail, I am moved to tears when I see these skinny, frail kids lying on the streets, with their distended stomachs almost bursting from hunger. I have seen them for as long as I can remember watching TV.

But today, while watching the video for Footprints in the Sand, the official video for Sports Relief, I was hit by totally different emotions. I was angry. Majorly Pissed Off.

Stop flinging these pathetic images at me because you producers or directors out there know that they'll pull at my heartstrings and therefore my purse strings. I am SICK of seeing these kids cry on camera, begging in front of the lens with their doeful eyes and slack, open mouths while some celebrity tells you to give generously.

The formula is deceptively simple, just like all the movies about dancing on the street have. You know what's coming, in fact you can hear what goes on during the shoot or in the editing suite: Celeb Producer to young editor:"This is how it works boyo, and never forget this. The more miserable and desolate the kids look before the Chorus the better. Up the volume of the chorus at least 60% for dramatic effect so that it sounds like whoever that singer is is trying to tell them something important. Then hit them with the really bad images where they all look like crap shit and quickly tone down and throw some happy faces. This'll make the suckers think "oh, look, I can be the one to bring them this joy with the pocket change lying around!" Don't worry about making them too happy coz the first bit will make anything look happy and we don't want the audience to think that the kids don't need help anymore. Got it, Son?"


I really have nothing against these kids and I have no doubt that their suffering is completely real and I am not setting out to belittle that. But I DETEST those who whip out these images like a miracle gun whenever they want something. Your cause is honorable but find another way to do this folks or one day the rest of the world will be so desensitised to images of abject poverty just like we are now to violence, and then what will you do? Search for even harsher images? Show child sex-workers at work? We've seen these images since time immemorial and if nothing has changed (evident from the same messages we're getting in the visuals), maybe it's time to do something different. Sure, we'll never finish giving compassion and aid to those in need and the poverty is an ongoing situation that cannot be easily resolved. There are always others - more - who need help. But please, I beseech you, find another way that we aren't sick of. We are in danger of being so turned off by poverty that we might be getting dangerously close to giving up. After all, I've seen these pictures for more than 20 years already and if nothing's changed, what more can I do? Maybe its beyond me and I'll just leave it to those who have much more money and resources than me. Oh look! Here's the video clip of the cowboy on A.I.! * click *

Tonight

A little tinge of brandy blush
A bit of happiness, a heady rush

The pretty brolly rests in my rum
Through my veins, a pleasure hums

The spot of cherry catches my eye
And round its stalk, a knot I tie

The breeze caresses my warmed up cheeks
The blush remains, on contented peaks

I'm really bad at this.. closing, letting go and moving on thing, aren't I? Be it a good book, anime or people. It just really really sucks. I hate it.

I absolutely HATE IT.

The "Get Real" episode

Ok.. I definitely need to get real about life.. what i want and whats never gonna happen. Reality check if you wanna call it that.. so here goes:

1) I am never gonna marry Sanzo or Hakkai (sorry Jenn, neither are you). They're not the marrying kind. Or alive kind, for that matter. But I love them anyway.

2) There is no one as perfect as Sanzo (sorry Jenn, Hakkai not so perfect).

At this point, I am already devastated. No more mojo already.

3) Being a Wuss is killing me. I need to get off that scardey ass and do what needs doing, bar fuck.

4) Rich men want pretty and docile wives. I am neither pretty nor docile and there are no rich men around. Marrying into money is not an option. NEVER WAS.

Life sucks boy.

And so it seems to have finally begun

The hard-hitting torrential downpours have begun. I imagine the heavy raindrops beating down on my skin, rivulets of coolness sliding over my scalp and flowing down my knobbly spine, easily dispelling the heat of an over-agitated body wrought with frustration. They feel like a thousand little hands beating away the grime, giving me a pat on the back and each impact releases a corresponding piece of my soul that was held back by caution and fear. Before long, I am bathed in a sense of freedom so profound that my heart cannot help but burst into a sweet song of hope, love and possibility.

Warning: its a damn long entry.

On 31st December 2007, I cast off the worst year I've had in a long time. Quite possibly, it was the worst I've had in my entire life. By the last month, I had reached depths of depression, self-doubt, failure and loneliness that I'd never thought was possible during my invincible early twenties. But that was last year, and at the stroke of midnight (or all three times we counted down to it, as it were) i felt a great cumulonimbus cloud of hopelessness lift off my pilates-tortured shoulders and it it's place, was my allotment of optimism for the whole of 2008. It felt amazing and I truly believe that 2008 will be a great year.

The ushering of the new year were fraught with so many 'signs' of things to come and what made me so hopeful of the goodness of '08 is that it wasn't perfect by any means. First, there were the false starts of the count down that saw the yachts releasing their flares (supposed to be done at midnight) before anyone started counting down! That obviously didn't take away any of the excitement of seeing each flare soar higher, further and in completely different directions from each other and I was heartened to notice that all burned just as brightly during their descend regardless of direction or height. I took it as a sign that I do not have to be better than anyone or go with the flow and I can be just as fulfilled doing what I believe in. Those who were with me in the past month would know exactly how great a comfort that is to me.

For a moment, everyone held their breath in an awesome silence and without warning, expelled that same reverent breath in a hushed oath as a runaway flare abruptly changed its upward trajectory and headed straight for the beach meters away from where we were. It really was quite a funny moment, punctuated by a lot of nervous tittering which then broke out into hearty laughter as more flares landed on the roof of the club house (where the party was) and on the boardwalk.

As the first of the flares began their slow descent, the party at the club house finally got down to their countdown and at the stroke of the second midnight, we were surprised by a fireworks display that lit the sky right in front of us in washes of festive green, red, purple and gold. It took my breath away and all in all, the celebrations were enough to assure me that 2008 would be an inspired year. Amusing at times but always pleasantly surprising. Perfect. But that was not all. In fact, I was just about to given my first (of many, I hope) gifts of the New Year.

When the excitement died down and most of the other groups had left, I noticed the scene in front of us. An elderly lady sat on the bench and next to her was a young boy who looked to be her grandson, sitting on the ground with his back against the bench. On the other side of the boy was a woman who looked like she was in her late 20s or early 30s. In my mind, she was the mother and daughter. They remained inconspicuous throughout the entire fire and flare episode but the now quiet night seemed to throw them in to a sharp and stark focus. Despite having already settled in before we arrive and, eventually, staying after we left, they did not have the picnic clutter that everyone else brought along. From what I could see, they sat on the bare ground while the only F&B was a can of coke and a packet of chips. It would be presumptuous for me to explain their situation so I'll just offer up the scenario that I saw and the powerful resolution I made because of it.

Some of you might have seen them as an incomplete (not dysfunctional) family with little in the way of money. The sense of loneliness and material poorness (since it isn't poverty compared to some of the Third World) felt like an isolating force that kept them from having fun like the rest of us. Yet this did not make them destitute. They were not ostentatiously lamenting their plight (as would have been the case had they stayed home to be miserable). Instead, they made it a point to do what they could and got out there to celebrate in their own way.

It was then that I really could believe that I do not have to be wealthy to be able to live Life but what moved me more profoundly was that regardless of how low I might get in Life, I should still get out there and live it rather than try to hide away and begrudge the lousy hand I'd been dealt with. There is Life outside of my misery - a whole world of it, in fact.

Perhaps some might feel that at 23yrs and 11months old, it is too early for me to not be an ambitious bitch and I should not be thinking about being contented with anything that Life gave me, much less learning how to live with desolation but I disagree. I will always have my dreams and I will fight to realize them because they are what will fulfill me. What I learnt during that first precious hour of 2008 can only serve to give me strength to pursue my wayward and beautiful dreams because I now know how to deal with the worst that Life can throw at me.

So let me give thanks to the powers or fates that be, my family, my friends, and most of all to the dreadful year that was 2007, without which, I would appreciate and anticipate 2008 as much as I do now.

Bless y'all and have a great one!