Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Because I'm tiki~*

[entry might not be coherent. and I couldn't didn't bother to check for grammatical errors (as if I usually do). Written on Sick Day 3 (technically, it's Sick Day 5)]

"Rest at home la. Forever leh you."

I nearly burst into laughter (I would have, if I hadn't held back - I knew laughing would trigger a series of coughs).

MW has known me since I was 5 years old. And she has probably witnessed many instances of me being tiki and refusing to rest at home, despite running a fever / having a bad headache / nose-bled in school etc.

I believe my good friends and family have long acknowledged that when Jas gets tiki, she really gets tiki.

As I read MW's texts, I started recalling past incidents of me being tiki.

1. [Sec Sch] Refused to go home until my classmate showed my thermometer to my PE teacher.

2. [Sec Sch, JC, Uni, Work] Refused to take MC and my friends kept nagging at me (this happened many times).

3. [Sec Sch, JC] Refused to go home after I nose-bled for quite some time in school.

4. [Sec Sch] Insisted on participating in the annual cross-country run despite having a very bad knee injury - I could feel my wound open and close as I ran. At the end of the run, my bandage was bloody.

5. [Pri/sec sch] Insisted on doing the 1.6/2.4km run despite having a high fever - didn't want to run alone the next time round, and didn't want to bother explaining my situation to my PE teacher.

6. [Sec Sch] Went for choir audition for SYF, though I just recovered from a very bad sore throat.

7. [Sec Sch] Had a bad fall at the escalator landing as I was rushing to catch the train. Got up and continued running up the escalator. When I got onto the train, my classmate just stared at me in disbelief. There was a trail of blood on my right calf and it stained my socks.

"Miss train, will die ah?" (fyi, it was about 6am in the morning. So nope, I wasn't running late. I just didn't want to miss the train that I usually take.)

8. [Uni-work] Refused to sleep, despite feeling very tired. Usually it's because I was engrossed in a book. (that's quite common, isn't it? Is that considered tiki? K thought so, and he still thinks so.)

9.[Work] Participated in the MOE Olive Run, even though I was having a sorethroat and flu. And hence, here I am, sick as a dog (have you ever wondered, why dogs?)


There is definitely more evidence of my tiki-ness... but the lethargy/drowsiness is making it difficult to think clearly.

Anyway, I first got my nickname 'tiki' in uni (given by my dear JC friends), when I started wearing braces. Of course, besides the fact that I literally have metal on my teeth, I've also demonstrated my tiki-ness in many ways (need them to help me jog my memory).

And very recently, my colleagues gave me this very catchy nickname of 'Tiki Lim'. One more nickname to add to my ever-growing list of nicknames. :) Oh, and it comes with a tagline "Nothing can stop her." Not true. Her RO did.

~*~*~*~*

Alas, my fever has returned.

Now, I look like one of the badass members of the bosozoku (biker gang) / ninja, with the fever patch on my forehead (thanks B-chan (will think of a nicer nickname for you)!).

Not very coherent anymore.

And I finally gave up resisting and took a tablespoon of the @#$*%%&4+;^# cough medicine.
Waiting for the drowsiness to set in - it feels as if I've just ingested some poison and I'm waiting to die.

"I'm ready." 

You know what I mean.
And with Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor Op. 64 playing in the background, it feels especially sad.

For the curious you,



The violinist is SUPERB. So is the orchestra, of course!

But for some strange reason, I'm more drawn to the cello than the violin.
I mean, look at 1:19. Aren't those cellos handsome???

Anyway, I've digressed.

From what? 

Ah yes, back to being tiki.

What does it mean to be tiki?
Obstinate? Willful? Unyielding? Tenacious? Tough?

Strange how any of these adjectives could actually be used on me, who was once labelled as being
"too meek" and would be "easily stepped on/shoved/taken advantage of by others".

A box of surprises.


What's happening here?

Walter Mischels' "If... then" (social cognitive) perspective on personality suddenly comes to mind.

Context-dependent. 

Like how water takes the shape of its container. Not sure if this is a good analogy.

But deep down, something is still constant - the very very core of this being.
That's the way I see it.

~*~*~*~

This entry was written while I oscillated between consciousness and unconsciousness semi-consciousness.

Right now, I feel like I'm somewhere in between.

Looked at my own reflection in the mirror, and thought to myself,
"This is exactly what I mean by looking, but not seeing."

How terrifying it is, if one were to lose sight of one's standing in reality?
When one's boundary of reality and imaginary life gets so blurred that you walk on without realising that you've crossed over to the other side. And refusing to acknowledge that you're on the other side.

When information gets altered and changed, and the world bends out of shape.

But what is reality, anyway?

And who are you to say what's real and what's not?

~*~*~*~

Wrote too much.

And I probably won't understand half of what I'd written when I'm fully conscious.

Maybe I should stop being tiki and just log off to get some rest.



Tuesday, September 09, 2014

Spanner~*

source

What do you love?

"You're a spanner. A spanner in the works."

Lying on the wooden floor, legs hooked against the railings, we gazed quietly at the moon that was about to be consumed by the fast-moving rain clouds. 

The waves and the wind sang in a lovely duet - one that was audible only to those who were listening. 

Questions were asked
Not all were answered.

Everything felt so raw then, when I thought about myself, my being and the people I love.

What do I love? 
In the dead of the night, 
I reflect and introspect. 

And listened to the duet of the shadows and the light - so utterly melancholic, yet alluring...

"I want to live with reckless abandon."

Like an old tune that may never be forgotten, this line echos in my mind.

~*~*~*~

So fragile...

Like a wound that is gradually healing (reminds me of D's terrible injury),
a little tear and it'll start to bleed again.

Many things are buried somewhere,
and we're praying hard that they will never be unearthed.

The ugly, the tainted. 

~*~*~*~

Do I really know how to live and how to love?


Monday, September 01, 2014

Bleed~*

At times, words can be powerless...

Too loud.

I closed my eyes and willed the world to retreat a little further away from me.

Surrounded by so much noise, so many concurrent conversations...
and monologues deep within. 

"...Jasmine, you're not good enough."
"...why can't you..."
"Why are you always..."
"I'm a little upset, Jasmine..."
"....you disappointed...."
"... you should have..."

So loud...

The flaws are so jarring, so painfully obvious. 

"You can't please everyone."

While people say they can "accept you as you are",
deep down, they still have unspoken expectations for you.

The disapproving looks,
the bitter tone,

the words.

At times, words cut. 

Especially the brutal and ruthless words I say to myself.
The way I cut myself again and again, 
until I habituate to the pain, and forget that the pain has ever been present. 

Look at my blood-stained hands.
Whose blood is this?

It's not theirs.
It's not them who cut, 
and it's not them who bleed.

It's me. 

It has always been me.