I wrote this quite some time ago, but was waiting for the right time and the confidence to post it up. I hadn't meant for there to be a part two, but it seems I just can't let my stories have sad endings. So here it is, at the end of 2010, hopefully a mark to the end of some bad things and the beginning of many good ones. =)


***


Click here to read Part I.

The old lady settled down quite comfortably in her new home. Her old friend and family still visited her regularly, so she was not lonesome. But sometimes, as she sat in the balcony with a book in her lap, watching the sun disappear over the horizon, she wished she could have had some permanent company in the winter of her life. She would not allow herself to dwell on this, however. Each time, she would firmly tell herself that there was a reason why she had left behind her bottle when moving out. She was determined to live out the rest of her days free from this hope, and the disappointment and pain it brought.

One day, as she was walking to the balcony to watch the sun disappear over the horizon, she found someone standing at her spot.

Curiously, she walked up to the figure. Everyone pretty much kept to themselves in the home, and she never saw anyone on her frequent visits to the balcony.

As she drew closer, she saw that the figure was an old man with a container in one hand and its cap in another. He turned to look as she approached him.

The old lady realised she had been staring. Embarrassed, she smiled apologetically.

"Hi," she said, shyly.

He grinned back, and in an instant, his wrinkly old face was transformed into what he must have looked like at his prime. Light danced in his eyes, and his smile seemed to reach out to her heart and fill it with light.

"Hi," he said, and turned back to his bottle, screwing the cap back on. He smiled at her again, and left the balcony.

The old lady went to the balcony a lot more often after that. Sometimes, he would be there too, with his bottle, and they would greet each other, and just sit in silence. They said nothing, but the old lady always felt that he knew him better with every encounter. After the sunset, the old man would leave, capping his bottle as he walked.

Weeks after their first encounter, the old lady could contain her curiosity no more. "What's in your bottle?" she asked.

He just winked conspiratorially, and grinned that grin of his.

From then on, the old lady would devise different ways to make him tell her. She tried all sorts of questions, she tried tricking him into blurting out the answer. But nothing worked, and soon the old lady realised that the answer wasn't all that important anymore - she just enjoyed spending time with him in this playful way.

Months later, he strode into the balcony while she was waiting with a book in her lap.

He thrust his bottle in her face. "Here. Open it and see."

She smiled. He had given in to her endless wheedling at last.

She uncorked the bottle, and squeezed her eyes shut as blinding rays of light shot out from inside.

"What is it?" she asked in shock, her eyes still screwed up tight.

"Sunrises and sunsets." he said, a little sheepishly. "So that the receiver of this bottle may start and end all her remaining days together with me."

She stared at him in stunned silence.

Then her face collapsed.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quavering, broken at the tragedy of it all.

"You're too late." Shiny, heavy tears, each carrying a lifetime of shattered hopes and dreams, tumbled down her age-lined face.

"Just like you, I have a bottle. It was once full of pebbles I wanted to give to my future lover. But I, who once treasured my collection so, have lost my last precious pebble. I don't even have my bottle anymore."

He had come, just like everyone had repeatedly told her in her younger days, but her heart had been emptied. And now, at the end of her impossibly long wait, she had nothing to give to this lover - the reason for her beloved collection, her wait, her life, everything.

"Oh." His face fell too, and, in that instant, transformed into a much older one.

He hugged his bottle to him, and walked away slowly.

The old lady cried, and cried, and cried.

"Sorry," said a voice behind her, after what seemed like an eternity in her endless river of tears.

The old lady turned around. It was her old friend.

She continued carefully, "I accidentally overheard your conversation. And I absolutely have to tell you that...you're wrong."

The little old lady raised her tear-stained face, and looked up at her old friend.

She reached into her handbag, and took out a dusty old bottle with a lone pebble inside.

"You see, your heart is not empty. You have not lost everything - you have everything to give."

The old lady stared at the bottle, eyes shining. The last pebble looked back at her, as though it were challenging her to fulfill its destiny.

She hugged her friend tightly, and ran as quickly as she could, ignoring the complaints of her creaky bones.

As she watched the old lady and the old man exchange their bottles happily, the old friend beamed. She was right to safeguard her friend's last hope, after all.

And so, hand-in-hand, the soulmates lived out the rest of their lives, comfortably, and in love.

Had a wonderful xmas outing today!

Gathered at Seamus' house in the afternoon, and after some deliberation and TV-watching, it was suggested that we go to K Garden, a ktv near his house.

It was cheap and good, $15 nett for 4 hours! On a public holiday, that's really a steal.


After loads of crooning (including some gutsy and enthusiastic singing by a flu-ridden, sexy-voiced Bell) and fooling around with the party pack provided, we bought a shedload of food at Chomp Chomp. I got to eat my favourite Hokkien prawn mee, woohoo! It reminded me of those happy times in my childhood when my loving parents would buy us that for supper quite frequently, braving the long waiting time and 油烟.

We tucked into the spread at Seamus' place.

After trying our best to finish the grotesque amount of food and wasting some of it, it was boxing time!

I got Fang a box of masks and a really cute mug, and my shutterbug friends a 2-lens reflex (kindly tell me in private if this term is wrong so that I can 挂住 my 面子!) lomo cam each.




Everyone seemed pleased with their haul.


I was more than pleased.

Pictured is a planner from XY, a Pull and Bear t-shirt and a bean plushie from WF, and a pair of frilly pajama shorts from Bell as part of her neverending and tireless quest to make me more 娘. ;p


The t-shirt and shorts go surprisingly well together, no? :p


Seamus had an eyeful when Fang and I decided to pull on the shorts over the ones we were already wearing to try on the size. Ok, in this picture he was probably laughing at what was on TV (notice that the girl beside him has a matching grin =p), but it will help you imagine his leery grin when he was watching us. But it was all in good fun, of course!

Hope all of you had as great a Christmas as I did! =D

I swear my muse doesn't come to me unless it is at least 1 am, and there are two other things I really need to be doing instead of writing. Still, I really shouldn't complain. You know I still love you, muse.

I just spent the better part of an hour rummaging through my five boxes (though I have a sneaking suspicion that there are more lurking in my room, temporarily forgotten) containing my decade-old collection of letters, mementos and cards. Yep, if you've written me a particularly touching note or any sort of card, it's in one of these boxes. I was looking for some addresses, but it is impossible not to be sidetracked and delve into some of the envelopes from time to time.

One day I will consolidate these boxes into one big container and sort them. I would preserve them in zip-lock bags, just like The Collector in Everything is Illuminated.

That day will probably be spent lost in memories and emotions.

Reading all the loving words again reminded me of why I sometimes wish we could record and archive every memory, every word spoken and written by those we care about. It's why I sometimes prefer the written word - because these things can be kept, and are somehow a little more reliable than the spoken word, uttered at the spur of the moment. The emotion that flows forth from our pens, too, is delivered by adrenaline in our veins. It, too, is a reflection of how we felt at the time. But the content of letters and cards don't fade with time, and we need only take them out and read them again to recall the exact words. It's much more comforting to me, seeing with my own eyes (instead of relying on my memory) that once, at least at that moment, someone felt that way about me, about us, about our friendship.

Sometimes, when I feel down, I relive the encouraging words written by some of you. It never fails to recharge my optimism, and lift my spirits.

I suspect the reason for my long-windedness is that if our brains retain only a percentage of what others say, then surely if I say more, use more words, there is a higher chance that others would remember what I said, or wrote. It is a naive belief, but I so yearn to leave a legacy in the minds of my loved ones.

It would be evidence that I once lived.

Damn, I must have that Gryffindor scarf.

From Hebe's 微博 (Chinese version of Twitter):

田喜碧Hebe：今晚我遇見哈利波特耶~

"I saw Harry Potter tonight!"

Don't discredit that makeshift "wand" -  it magically put a sparkling smile on my face. =D Hope the spell works on you all, too. ;)

For all my dear single friends out there who are wondering, losing patience or faith, and trying hard to be their own Shero but still wishing inside:


My bottle awaits. =)

Thanks for reminding me, Isabel. <3

Labels: notes to self

We are both too old and too young; too young to know that there are many ways to express love, and too old to accept those that are not our own.

I remember an incident from one of the biggest fights between my dad and Ken, when I was 12 or 13. At one point, he accused Dad of not loving him. Dad replied hotly, "If I didn't love you, I wouldn't fetch you to school everyday." I didn't understand at all then. How could such a simple gesture, which we had come to take for granted, be a way of showing love?

And then I grew up, and understood that every single step of driving us to school is love. Waking up extra early every single weekday, when he really doesn't have to. Braving the traffic. Putting up with our occasional noisy banter in the car. Saying goodbye. Lather, rinse, repeat, every single weekday at bloody 6 am in the morning.

We, as kids, had questioned the existence of our parents' love, not because it wasn't there, but because it didn't take the guise we wanted it to - which often involved buying us new toys, or going to our favourite restaurant.

It doesn't just blight the relationships between parents and children. It can get between siblings, friends, lovers, almost anyone you could ever get close to, at some point in the relationship.

Love me my way, or have me think you don't love me at all.

What an ultimatum.

It's probably one of the hardest mentalities I'm going to have to break out of in this lifetime.

Best to get a headstart now, then. ;)

Labels: egomaniac, notes to self

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part One was pretty sublime. I was already close to tears during the first five minutes. I'd completely forgotten about the memory wipe part. Bee told me that it had been addressed during a conversation in the book. I don't remember that at all. It was really poignant...I thought to myself, what must it have taken for her to do that? And, as usual, I searched my mind for the possibility of a happy reunion, a happy ending. I could find none. And I seem to remember that the Obliviate spell can't be reversed. =(

Random scenes in HP seem to open my taps. Maybe it's because I never go into the cinema expecting such poignant love scenes. It was too much for me when Hermione sent that flock of sharp flying objects at Ron after discovering him gallivanting with Lavender, and asked Harry sadly, "Is that how it feels?"

It was too much for me this time, just watching Harry and Hermione dance. How gentle he was with her.

Someday.

On a somewhat related note, Daniel Radcliffe looks really really good with stubble. And also half-naked. Well done, Harry.

Source: http://www.screenhead.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/radcliffe-200x300.jpg

I now leave you with pleasant thoughts for a good night.

Exams, for me, are generally happy times. They are durations where I can sleep however much I like, save money by going out less, and go about my revision in a very slow way (to other people). My time is truly my own.

The only flies in the ointment are having to stop myself during breaks (one..more...episode! or one...more...game) - but that's okay because when exams are over, I would suddenly lose interest in all these episodes and games since I would have all the time in the world to watch/play them - and having to memorise stuff. I hate that, cos I'm bad at it, so I usually try to get around it by just reading my mind maps over and over again, hoping that they will travel into my head by diffusion (oh, that much-loved age-old fantasy of all students who are not Hermione).

This time, revision time is as happy as it can get because I have the ultimate luxury of having too much time to study. I am going at a rate of two or three lectures a day.

My sadistic self is kinda enjoying this different kind of torture. Time would go faster if I had too little time to mug instead.

And so my week has whizzed by in a quite fantastic blur of cheap and good fake Doraemon glitter pens (thanks Bee! They're from that shop in Toa Payoh you showed me last time =) ), Friends (both real and reel life ones), Fringe, 康熙来了, mind maps (drawn with Doraemon pens while in Doraemon pajamas), notes, moments of what-if-I-don't-do-well-despite-having-so-much-time-to-study paranoia, muhaha-I'm-so-naughty-going-to-meet-my-friends-anyway outings, thinking about London and Taiwan. =D

Damn, I'll just come right out and say it, now - this post sounded a lot more inspired in my head.

And here it is, another surprise - a (really cute) MV for this song which never fails to brighten up my day.



Lyrics so simple, yet so telling.

In one month and six days, the notes of this song will reach into my heart, turn on the lights, make it sing, supercharge it with "我相信" - because they will fall forth from the lips of Herself, in the flesh.  ^_^

Goodbye or farewell?