Last night, I finished Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven in one sitting. The book really touched me, softened me a little. Then again, I'm like a crab, hard on the outside, soft in the inside. The book made me realise a few things: small lessons in life that someday I'll forget I've learnt them. That's the problem with me - I let down my guard and my demons return. But recently, it has been better. This year alone, I have changed perspective on many things in life and I wish that I would be able to further refine them, make life on Earth more worthy, make the people around me happier. Then again, it ain't such a simple job. I wonder how many lives I have crossed consciously and subconsciously; how many routes I have taken; how many right or wrong turns I made. There was a line that really spoke to my soul but I can't recall it at the moment, will share when I can get hold of the book again. Overall, a really nice read on a day when the blues hit you hard. =) [On another note, this has been a good literary year for me. Think I finished close to 24 or more books, which equates to 2 books a month. I'm proud. Haha]

On the last day of the year, I wish everyone a better year ahead, more room for errors, more room for improvement. And of course, another year to ord!

Missing someone terribly though. *shrugs*

my heart feels heavy tonight
i feel like i've lost my sight

i almost forgot how to grieve;
how to wallow in self-pity;
now it's back.

pitiful self-centred me
nothing revolves around
but your own pathetic thoughts
how does it feel to return home?

The year draws to a close. And fate does a weird bowing out by having an earthquake in Iran & a gas leak in China? Human beings are just too frail. And maybe when I flip the papers tomorrow, yet another tragedy will occur. This year alone, we've seen so much: America's campaign in Iraq, more car-bombings, the undying flames of terroism still burning, the SARS epidemic, blackouts, resurgence of the Mad Cow Disease, the list goes on. Yet within all these troubles, arise stories of human courage, goodness and kindness. We're all such contradictory characters.

On a lighter note, considering going to Esplanade on New Year's Eve. Something more constructive for a change rather than drinking myself drunk (like every other year even before I turned legal). And if a little festive drinking needs to be done, I can just hop myself over to Embargo or Centro. Haha.

Outside my window, a tree sheds its browning and yellowing leaves. Beautiful. And there seems to be wisdom waiting to be gleamed from the paper's comics section. If only people looked hard enough. =)

Christmas is in the air? Somehow I don't really feel it, gonna play some holiday songs via yahoo's launchcast. And what a surprise I got when I came home to a brand new DVD player on my bed? Spent a little time tinkering with the wires and hooked it up to my hifi. Presto! A bona fide home entertainment system. And who else to thank but my dad? =) [Though I know it's not really for me but at least I would enjoy it..] Now to hunt for some dvds! Anyway gotta book in tomorrow night for live firing on Friday which kinda dampens the mood. Oh well.

Here's wishing everyone a merry Christmas and hopefully, a better year ahead.

Dear Internet,

does anyone read me anymore? Why doesn't my counter jump?

Hello anyone out there? Please please reply.

Losing my voice in this endless space.

Yours,
disgruntled me.

p.s. maybe my comments thing is dead.

Alrighty. Spent two hours in photoshop making this. More tweaking needs to be done like the trees and the letters. Had fun adjusting the 2D text to conform onto the banner. It's a remake of Albani's Adonis Led by Cupids to Venus. Trying to make it look like a painted photograph. =) Enjoy.

Driving Instructor From Somewhere Deeper Than Hell (Who Thinks He is Holier Than Thou)

About six weeks ago, I managed to engage a driving instructor through the classified ads in the papers. We'd just call him Mr Rechtum (for protecting the not so innocent). The first time I met him, he had a cigarette dangling from his lips and he ushered me into the car. Alternating between mild dislike and smoke blowing in my face, he explained the charge rate as well as the deposit et cetra.

And off we were on the road. Albeit me knowing jack about anything at all (save for all the theoratical work I did). With a few cursory explanations, I started off jerkily. He had quite a few breaks in between though; going to get food; toilet break; smoke break - I don't even give so many to my men! The first lesson ended with me being screamed at, my left leg constantly jabbed by his stick (the ol' Clutch-O-Matic 2000) and my brains left in the boot.

I had to take a week off because of duty in camp and when I next saw him, I was given more of the stick, my left foot reeling so much from it that I only stepped a little of the clutch so he couldn't reach me. This time round, I had to contend with him talking on the phone about soccer bets (which he obviously lost and then his temper too).

Left, keep to center, slow, sloowww...

I mean, I'm a bloody beginner alright? And with the method you're teaching, I think I'm better off learning myself. And I don't think I'm that bad, it's ur constant jabbering (and jabbing) that's making me edgy. So I swerved into a turn quickly and ended up with him screaming his head off, while I kept a poker face and laughed like mad inside.

Third lesson. Tried to start off on the second gear but couldn't. So I asked him a simple technical question. Instead of explaining it nicely to me, he asked with a dose of sarcasm, "You carry 100kg can walk meh?" Well, I referred back to those days of training when I was required to squat like 120kg (x3 sets of 10) and said yes. Haha. Old bugger was red in the face with anger. Of course I ended the lesson feeling like shit and wanting to scratch his car. He had asked me if I understood English (which I do but not his: relit a bit of the actualator..slooww...slowww...turn lep at the load in front) and carried on the lesson in Chinese (which I really can't tell what is the accelerator's or clutch's Chinese equivalent).

Last lesson. Today. Cancelled on him on Friday cos it was raining and I couldn't get him and I didn't want to see his face. Of course, he demanded a refund. But I don't care. While I was cruising along the road, he took a nap. About one-third of the lesson I was doing it alone. I mean, hey! it's my fourth lesson, shouldn't I be learning something new instead of braking and starting and changing gears? Well, evilboy wanted to get back at him and took hard brakes at red lights, waking him up and him mumbling, "Go straight" and falling asleep again. Then, after a smoke break, he was on the phone grumbling about horses running today. "Siang si yi eh jockey? Boh yia meh zi eh beh?" (Who's the jockey? This horse has never won before?) And he was also discussing where to take ferry later on.

Enough was enough. At the end of the lesson, I asked for my provisional driving license back. And he mentioned about whether other instructors would show their charges the goddamn piece of sheet used for grading and teaching according to it. Well, he shoves that in my face every time he takes a break. Can almost memorise how many points will be deducted if my verhicle stalled. So I just nodded my head, grunting and I got off. My dad was around so Mr (anal-retentive) Rechtum did not do anything.

Back in my dad's car, he told me he didn't like the asshole's face. And saying he would pummel that guy if he had dare touched me. Actually, I would have done the pummelling myself. But my dad's the greatest punk dad you can get. Well, so long to Rechtum and hope he doesn't die of diabetes soon. At least that's what my dad says. =)

p.s. Sorry for the long rant. Just need to get it off my chest!

Travis's 12 Memories is really a good track to listen to in the solitude of your room, on a rainy night like this.

"Every day sinking in the quicksand /Follow me down the drain /Every day drinking in the same bar /Drowning my sorrows away"

Somehow, after hiding in my room for a short while, I'll emerge a little happier, a little saner. Thanks to my baby for buying this wonderfully sad cd for me two months ago. I never get tired of it.

Night's out!

Ehrm, currently enjoying life at SIW so far; even though it has only been 2 days. Took tonight to come home to rest and gather myself back. I'm too adverse to changes. Makes me down. Plus all the commando and guards dudes make me feel inferior. Just want this army stint to end soon. 500+ days and counting.

Read an article on Sunday. Having some thoughts about it now: the human brain is incapable of realising the futility and meaningless of our existence; our pathetic little lives. What impact can we make in this vast universe? Money's nothing but a brief chase for a concept conjured up by our own consciousness. But why do I, and everyone, worry, strive, steal and cheat for it? What about love then? A mere chemical reaction in the brain or something everlasting, as immortalised by Shakespeare himself. Even then, literature and the arts, are only human products that make a little impact on the whole scheme of things. The paperchase; the rat race; the beauty contest; the fame and the shame; what do they all amount to in the end when our existence is but a faction of a faction of a faction of the entirety of things? I'm sad. Sad that the definition of who I am, what I am is inconsequential. Even death wouldn't mean a thing.

Phew. Took me quite a while to type the story below. Wrote it two nights ago without any preparation. Enjoy. Only some post-production involved, to clear up the grammar and structure. Still, bear with anything jarring. Comments ya?

I was the epitome of the loser. A failed man of the material world. I had no friends, I had no money. I drove a second-hand Pontiac across the country, calling at old buildings - my line of work.

This night, I cruised down dusty, winding paths into the backwaters. I was on a job, to check out a new piece of property recently purchased by my bosses, the same people who robbed me of thankless years, who kept me in this job that led no where. I drove with abandon, speeding down these unused roads. I had no inkling of what lied ahead.

The decrepit house stood alone. Weeds sprouting haphazardly around its perimeter, their tenacity displayed at random spots on the roof and rain gutters. The windows were shut, darkness encasing the insect life within. I stopped the car in front of the porch and alighted. I wished this job would be the last.

Motes of dust danced as my torch shone across the musty hall of the house. My job as real estate purveyor had brought me to countless old houses, most in need of major renovations but this house was different. The stench; the grime and worst of all, the darkness that engulfed everything.

My footsteps echoed eerily down the corridor as I passed countless photographs framed along it. Old vases, which used to hold fresh flowers, were now either broken or held crumbling remnants. I stopped abruptly as a yellowing photograph caught my eye. In the picture was a class of bright-eyed teenagers, life bustling from the radiant smiles on their faces. Yet, a thought struck me - these people were most likely smiling skeletons by now. As I quickly scanned through it, a dark-haired girl stood out the most. She had a stoical look, eyes brazen with fury, mouth quivering with hate. Her object of anger was a mystery to me. Yet I felt it through the fabric of time and space. A chill went down my spine and I tried hard to pull away from her hypnotic eyes. As I turned, I half-expected her to stand before me, a vengeful spirit, wishes unanswered from beyond the grave. But there was nothing in my path, save for a scuttling rat hiding from my light.

My heart beat wildly in my chest; I took a deep breath of the acrid air and I moved on, noting damages that could be remedied. The torch I held in my hand cast long and dark shadows across my path. Sometimes, I think what drove me mad was my imagination. I wished for a better life outside of this crappy job I had. I mean, the salary's low, working hours long, freaky destinations like this and no holidays at all! And I have had not tasted female flesh in years, since college, since I landed with this dead end job.

Each step was laboured and full of fear. Every breath could be the last, for something sinister might rip my still-beating heart out of my chest. Life to me, felt like a tunnel, without the light at the end. And Murphy was right, he's always right.

The torch was bought from a sale and not surprisingly, the bulb blew on me. I cursed at my luck, my anger rebounding back to me in waves from hidden corners. Half my mind told me to return to the Pontiac but half of me wanted to stay. Maybe I sought the dark-haired girl, a most illogical quest, yet my intuition told me she was in here somewhere. (Never mind if she was dead! Those exquisite features, those passions beneath the skin...) Maybe I sought death, maybe I sought a fellow soul, a kindred spirit; calling me to her cold embrace.

Blindly, I walked on, determination robbing me of any common sense. I no longer had control over my limbs. My conscience thrashed wildly against some ethereal chains, my breath erratic, my will subdued by some unseen force.

Death was near. So was release.

This life of mine...not worth anything.

She would take me away. She was just down the hall. Waiting. We were meant to be together. Time or life; never in the equation.

Images of my green car outside was suddenly replaced by this unreal lust coursing through my blood. I thirst for her: those dark almond eyes, the pale and silky skin. She and I belonged to one another.

I wanted her. She waits.

My steps hastened. Excitement and fear; mixing into a potent rush of felling; of impulsiveness. I did not know why I was sure she was waiting. And I did not care. My legs took my pudgy frame as fast as they could. My breathing; harsh and shallow. My lungs hurt. All those years of greasy cheese-and-bacon sandwiches, they would be obliterated, they would cease to exist; once I reached her.

My saviour. My love.

I found it hard to breathe, wheezing and coughing with each intake of sour air. I needed to escape this frail body and this pathetic life. My leather shoes pounding on the creaky floorboards, my pounding heart against my ribs, my pounding head as it tried to adjust to the greatest amount of physical stress in years. I had no reason for this sudden infatuation, this madness that could not be contained. The tiny voice within my head whispered weakly against the commanding voice. It warned of demonic possession; warned of unthinkable consequences. But the other voice was just too strong, too strong. And the little one was drowned in a cacophony of voices, a weak reverbration in my head.

Then, I was assailed with images of those years - years of torture; of sadness; of darkness. These very walls witnessed the cruelty of humanity and tasted the spill of innocent blood. Images. Stark images of pain came before me in flashes. The dark-haired girl. Those eyes. I could feel them burning through my retina. She used to live here. Her father, a drunken brute, stomach big as a barrel and arms thick as pistons. Screams. I could hear her screams. Her mother, a shriveled shell of the vibrant woman she once was; stood battered and bruised; the father, belt in one hand, bottle in another. And those countless young and angelic faces. They used to be her crushes and her friends. Yet, each of them had their turn, each a demon, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Pain; excruiating pain. The betrayal of the father; the useless mother. They fed her anger, they fed her grief. The world held nothing for her.

I was stumbling, head a mess as these delusions, or reality. Before I knew it, I was already in front of her room, untouched for years. I flung the door open, opening into a typical girl's room, dust rising in clouds. The room was almost normal yet something heavy held the air. And I noticed the disparagement of the room. On the window sill sat old-fashioned, wooden dolls, with their heads twisted out of the lifeless bodies. The ceiling was covered in arcane drawings, the wall across the door held dark stains. A patch of crimson red stared defiantly from the shoddy carpet not far from where I stood.

There she was on the bed. There she was not.

I halted. The hypnotic spell seemed lifted. My eyes flitted around in fear, my own stench polluting the air around me. My breath slowed down. My legs felt tired, as if I had ran for miles.

What had just transpired? A brief connection across dimensions? A panic attack brought upon by the blown fuse?

The gossamer-thin web of memories clung onto me; my head spinning and reeling in horror of my temporary insanity. I took a step backward, letting the door close upon the accursed room. I empathised with her and I had felt her pain. Her wounds were fresh upon my hot flesh. Her anguish troubled me. Yet, she was no longer of my world, forever doomed to roam these halls. I muttered a silent prayer. In the darkness, I traced my frantic steps back to the porch, back to the safety of my car, back to my life.