When you start to doubt your own existence, and your version of reality~*

As I await the drowsiness to kick in and blackness to take over (thank you, Phenexpect), I ponder about the notion of existence and reality [like philosophical drunks, I'm a philosophical (trying to be) sick.] 

Existence
Suppose you're the only person in the world who can validate your own existence - nobody else can / want to - then do you still exist?

If the whole world denies your existence (for whatever reasons), what does it take to prove your existence?

What is the basis of one's existence?

Similarly, what about the existence of a relationship unknown to others? Or an occurrence that's witnessed only by you?

If all evidence of its existence were destroyed, then... did it really exist?

Can we base it solely on one's account? On one's error-prone memories?

Maybe not.

And maybe it doesn't matter what others think - as long as you think it truly existed / exists, then it did / does [now I sound like a schizophrenic who doesn't believe he/she has schizophrenia] 


Reality
Maybe the concept of an objective reality is meaningless.

Reality or not, maybe it doesn't matter.


Maybe nothing truly matters.

~*~*~*

I don't think I'm coherent, and I don't think I'll remember ever penning this entry.

Anyhow, in the current state that I'm in, I wonder how I'm going to write up my annual entry to conclude the year.

Oh well.

"Mata Ashita"~*

What lies in between presence and absence?

What lies in between the spoken and the unspoken?

Listen to the things that will never be said.

~*~*~*

I learnt that
weed isn't the only thing that can amplify the dynamism of sounds, and slow time down.
So can words. And the lack thereof.

I learnt that
there are various manifestations of emotions - the especially intense ones.
You could laugh / cry at the most inappropriate moment - when you least feel like laughing / crying.
But you laugh / cry still.

I learnt that
while some people are made of light, others are made of the night.
These are people swallowed by the darkness.

I learnt that
remembering is, oftentimes, as sad as forgetting.

I learnt that
there is a place where secret emotions are kept.
And it's not an infinite space.

I learnt that
gazes can break hearts and leave scars.
You don't have to be Cyclops.

I learnt that
words often come too late.
Then, you'd wish that they never came at all.

~*~*~*~

Put on the Bossa Nova, Jazz and Chill-out, lounge music.

[it's Stan Getz & Astrud Gilberto now] 

Simply because.

It's me, and only me~*

I'm still breathing I'm still breathing I'm still breathing I'm still breathing I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive

- Alive, Sia 

Decided to copy the lyrics of the chorus out in one line.
I like how the lack of paragraphing brings out the desperation (it'll be even better if there weren't any spacing. But that's too difficult to read.)

No time to inhale, nor exhale.
Hold your breath till the very last word. 

Seemingly a desperate attempt to convince yourself that you are indeed breathing, and are very alive.

Because you don't know.


~static~

Why is it me?

Because of me.

Because it's me.

Therefore, it's me.

...

~static ends~


But I don't wanna die, no I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die

- Birds set free, Sia

Similar idea.

Or, it could also be a desperate call to someone (yourself, perhaps?) that, among all the confusion and fuzziness, at least, something seems clear.

And you want to make sure that the message is clearly delivered.

Listen. 

I am still breathing.

I am alive.

I don't wanna die.


Probably (tabun)

Anyway, they tripled my heartbeat.

You don't know what you want (to say) ~*

Because.

Words.

Are.

Not.

Enough.

~*~*~*

How am I supposed to depict the full intensity with just a few repetitions of "very"?

Or paint the full range of emotions with variations of adjectives from the thesaurus?

Thoughts and feelings don't work this way.

At least, not mine.

Therefore.

...

Even so...

~*~*~*

Do you know what it feels like to be entangled?

Like a ball of yarn, or iPod earphones (after you hurriedly / lazily stuff them into the inner pocket of the bag).

Entangled, knowing that it's almost impossible to be untangled.

This leads to this, to this and this.... Ah, a dead knot.

You reach for a pair of scissors (at times, but not for your ipod earphones, for obvious reasons).

Snip, snip.

Or you learn to live with it.


Live with it, knots and all. 


knots and all.

Yuki / Yuuki (yes, I'm indecisive)~*

Cat of few words.

“If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.” 

― Mark Twain

Such elegant, mysterious creatures.

~*~*~*

The knowing cat.

Hidden in the shadows, watching.

The cat knows.

And I know that she knows.

And she knows that I know.

~*~*~*

Being a cat owner.

"Watching her reminds me of what it's like to live. I think Yuki is truly living..."

"Suddenly, many things become inconsequential. It's a life that's in my hands...(and sometimes, literally)"

"... but really, who's the one who needs the other?" 

"I didn't know I had any maternal instinct until I got her. When it comes to her, I think I'm behaving like an overly protective mother." 

~*~*~*

The cat.

Affectionate, curious, energetic, playful, docile, floppy, sweet, brave, random, stubborn, alert, patient (with me, heh).

"I'm watching you."
"So am I."

~*~*~*

"Curiosity killed the cat...

but satisfaction brought it back."

Our Photograph~*

We keep this love in this photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Our hearts were never broken
Times forever frozen still

Memory Reel~*

I can still remember that night.
The air was painfully still.
I looked into the mirror, and got sucked into the depths of my own gaze.
Something was swirling in the darkness - weightless, unbounded, with nowhere to return to.

I can still remember that evening.
I was looking at the scarlet sky, thinking about the setting sun, and
how we had laughed about the sun "rising earlier than expected".
I closed my eyes, and the scene played on.
It was silent.

I can still remember that night.
We played 'Metal Slug' over gin&tonic, and stout.
It was trippy, and turning into zombies was strangely fun.
The world had retreated.
It was just us, and the zombies.

I can still remember that morning.
The sun rays peeked through the clouds.
The perfect weather.
And suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place.

I can still remember that night.
There was a spread of fruits and vegetables.
Words were consumed by the falling rain.
The light was blue.
Like sapphire... only more precious.

I can still remember that night.
I was woken up by a wave of transparent and searing pain.
As I lay there, writhing, I heard a soft whisper.
The ghosts had spoken.

I can still remember that afternoon.
When infinite possibilities got reduced to that single circumstance.
The earnest wishes and words that were repeated over and over again
Somehow materialised.
But I was unable to put my emotions into words (still am not).


The deceptively happy mornings, dreary afternoons, wistful evenings, seemingly endless nights... 
Trapped in a continuous loop. 

Reaching for the constant.
Slowly trying to take ownership of my heart, and the accompanying responsibility for its damage (past, present, and future).


"Return me to me."
I can say this to no one, but myself.

Where it started will be where it shall end~*

1.

“I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik,

 even now circling the earth, 

gravity their only tie to the planet. 

Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, 

they meet, 

pass each other, 

and part, 

never to meet again. 

No words passing between them. 

No promises to keep.” 

― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

2.

“So that’s how we live our lives. 

No matter how deep and fatal the loss, 

no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us - that's snatched right out of our hands - even if we are left completely changed, 

with only the outer layer of skin from before, 

we continue to play out our lives this way, 

in silence. 

We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time,

 bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. 

Repeating, 

often adroitly, 

the endless deeds of the everyday. 

Leaving behind a feeling of insurmountable emptiness... 

Maybe, in some distant place, 

everything is already, 

quietly, 

lost. 

Or at least there exists a silent place where everything can disappear, 

melting together in a single, overlapping figure. 

And as we live our lives we discover - drawing toward us the thin threads attached to each - what has been lost. 

I closed my eyes and tried to bring to mind as many beautiful lost things as I could. 

Drawing them closer, 

holding on to them. 

Knowing all the while that their lives are fleeting.” 

― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

I know, now~*

We held each other's gaze for a few seconds,

and my heart squeezed.

I know, now.

I know, now, that I don't know, and may never know.

~*~*~*~

I retraced my steps and searched for something.
Something to hold on to, to validate the existence of something.

I need to, 

and I cannot. 

So many questions,
with no answer.

I know, now, that I've been left behind. 

~*~*~*~

I struggled to protect something from further degradation,
only to realise that some things cannot be done alone.

"Because we know when to yield..." (this was said in a completely different context, but it works)

I know, now, that I'm the only one holding on to that precious something.

~*~*~*~

I'd written something different for the very last line at first (quite easy to guess, if you follow the flow).
But I couldn't bring myself to put them down in words.
I'm not that strong; I don't have that steel in me. 


On a very random note,
thanks to 10-chan, I'm officially addicted to Neko Atsume.

And that term (for 4 May "Life, it taught me to die" entry), is discontinuous.

Hold, and shoot~*

"Right before I sleep - when my brain is too tired to put up a wall of rational moderation and I just run for a bit on the fumes of pure feeling." 

Hold your step,
hold your breath,
hold your tongue.

Hold back,

hold it.



Is that alright?
If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it? 

Is that alright?
Is that alright?
Is that alright with you?

No.

- '9 Crimes', performed by Damien Rice & Lisa Hannigan

Life, it taught me to die~*

Life, it taught me to die.

Why do you need to be taught to die?

Because a normal, well-functioning being will not want to seek death.

Or so I think.



Life and love taught me many things, besides lying and dying...
And many things, besides life and love, taught me to lie and die...

The heart dies from time to time.
So do words, and even the concept of time - it becomes warped. Yesterday seems so distant, yet, everything is as vivid as if they'd just happened... yesterday.

The point when things change.
In retrospect, these are clearly drawn lines.
Nothing gradual (there's a term for this, but I can't remember).

Anyway, back to the point about dying.

You don't have to physically die, to die.
It's not just about the cessation of living.
It happens when things end, when things stop, when you come apart and get strewn all over the floor, when the heart bleeds and hurts like crazy, when exhaustion is the only sensation that makes sense to you...

Maybe we've all died at some point in life.
Those precious life lessons.

Arsonist's Lullabye~*

"Still water runs deep."

"And you can never perceive its real depth."

"That describes you."

~*~*~*~

"Don't you ever tame your demons
Always keep them on a leash."



Hozier.
He took me somewhere dangerous.

~*~*~*~

Dancer in the night~*

There will be days when you want nothing but solitude and stillness, and you wish you could shut out the voices.
But to your horror, the voices exist, even within stillness, even when there's nothing more to say.

There will be days when you crash and feel utterly defeated, and you wish for everything to end abruptly, at the snap of your fingers.
But, no. You're not in control. Not now.

There will be days when your heart takes over, and poisoned blood courses through your body. You want to let the poison flow out of your system.
But the hands tremble, and you drop on your knees in fear - fear of your uninhibited audacity.

Go away, now, you. 

Then,

there will be days when you want to fight the malicious thoughts and destructive urges, and you actually think that you may be able to defeat them.
And you fight. Hard.

Fight, get bruised and wounded, but not stopping.
You cannot stop. Not now.

And there will also be days when the heart becomes lighter, and there's a certain bounce in your steps.
You choose the happier songs to listen to, and being around people doesn't seem like such a repulsive idea.

The ears don't hurt, and the eyes get accustomed to the light.
And you manage a smile, a giggle, a laughter.

And then...


Fluctuating states,
and ironically, instability being the constant.

"Disconcerting."
"But to me, it's comforting."

The darkness is beautiful.

You're a dancer in the night.

Sometimes,
words and feelings
have nowhere to go.

Too painful to realise;
too intense to hide.

Lingering,
somewhere.

Gradually,
slowly,
lost.
...
..
.

Nullified~*

There comes a point,

where tears fail to convey the depths of sadness, pain and despair. 

Confronted with blinding and angry flashes of light,

I want to run away,

I want to escape. 

I want to fade into the shadows, 

dissolve into the night,

lose my heart to the demons... 

To be completely, totally nullified. 

Burning heart~*

一颗赤裸，焚烧的心
在0℃的空间里
仍然燃烧着，无法平静。

如此耀眼，但也如此伤感。

红·，黄·，蓝，紫。 

一起，一落，
一叹，一吸。

有如心中的呐喊，
也只能以叹息来表达。

一直在寻找一种安宁·，一种平静，
一直在寻找一种温柔，感动，意义，
一直在寻找栖身之处...

你是否在寻找一样的东西？

为何常常觉得难以坦然相对?
为何常常觉得失落，懦弱?
为何常常想自暴自弃?
为何常常想放纵自己?

也许已经累了。

焚烧的心，也终将变成灰烬。

想狠狠地将它冻结
却不想失去灿烂的火焰。

矛盾。

有得必有失，
反反复复。

无奈，但这也是理所当然。

如果真心祈求，一切的过错是否能被原谅呢？

哪怕今天以泪洗脸，
深深相信总有一天能够回首以微笑来面对这段过去。

或许吧。

那就让这颗疲惫的心继续的烧下去吧。

如此耀眼，但也如此伤感。

红·，黄·，蓝，紫。 

~*~*~*

Survived the trip to China.

Time to rest and recharge.

This evening, I felt like I'd transformed from Nyuu to Lucy (From Elfen Lied).

Stretched out my "vectors" and slashed mercilessly at... myself, and hence, indirectly, others.

But the difference between Lucy/Nyuu and myself is that while Lucy & Nyuu are not conscious of what the other persona has done, I am. Very conscious. And I remember. Very clearly.

Although in a way, I was (am?) blinded, I am aware. 

Lucy/Nyuu are actually two very distinct personas, whereas for myself, there's no way to separate us.

Us. Or maybe there's no 'us' to begin with.

Random thoughts~*

1. Five, Seven. 

Listening to Take Five in the afternoon seems so out of the norm (and no, Take Five isn't a boy band, in case you are confusing Take Five with Take That. Hell of a lot of difference), because to me, Jazz music always sounds best late at night.

Quintuple meter - just like this short piece that I'm learning for cello.
A rhythm that doesn't quite appeal to most people, because it just doesn't seem to sync well with human's natural sense of rhythm.
Not just quintuple, but complex time signatures, in general.

And same goes for most contemporary classical music works - very peculiar sounding.

I wonder why are there particular rhythms, particular chord progressions which sound nice to most people. What's the psychology behind it?

Maybe I should read up more on music psychology (Ah, that's Dr Stephen Lim's area of interest).



Anyhow, I've digressed. A lot.

I meant to come here to write a little about my Lunar New Year holidays.


2. Lunar New Year

A flurry of activities, lots of smiles (genuine ones, I hope), small talks, snacks, TV (during CNY visits, its importance and utility gets elevated), pretty / smart outfits, steamboat, gambling...

To describe it using adjectives of emotions is rather difficult though - a blend of emotions

And I also learnt that this particular behaviour (or series of actions) irks me quite a bit:

Giving me a limp handshake, (optional muttering of "happy cny") without having eye contact with me. Usually looking elsewhere, displaying more interest in something else.

I had to hold back from squeezing that fellow's hand much harder (wish I were stronger though. Physically.)


3. At the sight of an LD...

It awed me.

In fact, the entire old school karaoke place awed me.

Second time there, and it still fascinated me no end.

On a side note, I observed that Hokkien songs are usually quite emo, and alcohol is a common theme. I wonder why, heh.


4.  To let go.

Be brave, and forgiving enough to let it go.

You can cry, you can ruminate,
but you must know when to stop.

Stop, not because you have to, but because you want to.

Let go, not because you have to, but because you want to.


5. Call me out of my foxhole.

'Precisely,' said the fox. 'To me, you are still only a small boy, just like a hundred thousand other small boys.

 And I have no need of you. And you in turn have no need of me. 

To you, I'm just a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. 

But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. 

To me, you shall be unique in the world. 

To you, I shall be unique in the world.

...but if you tame me, my days will be as if filled with sunlight. 

I shall know a sound of footstep different from all the rest. 

Other steps make me run to earth. 

Yours will call me out of my foxhole like music.'

- Excerpt from The Little Prince, by Antione de Saint-Exupery

6. Take me to...

Approximately a year and a half ago, I made a promise with myself.

To give my 100%, and never settle for anything less. 

Took that leap of faith, fumbled my way around, and somehow managed to keep my promise.

Then again, the amount of effort put in doesn't necessarily equate high quality work - I am slow and I don't think critically enough. And I don't speak up enough. 

To make up for my lack of competence in many areas, I pushed myself hard. 

"Is that the right thing to do?"

I cannot answer. 

I cannot answer.

I just can't. 

Sometimes, I feel that I'm slowly approaching the edge of a cliff.

Knowing that I would topple over, I would stop, peer down, and slowly take a small step back.

So precarious and dangerous. 

But I want to advance forward, and I'm not scared. Or so I think. 

But one day, I might step right off the cliff. 

That kick. 

7. Those days, these days.

Let me be hopeful. 

On a sidenote, I managed to write this entry using the pockets of time I could find here and there. Hence, it's disjointed and all over the place. Rearranged the points a little too. 

Well, if only you could just rearrange things like that in life. 

Music (?) of Trying~*

Every bow, 

every note,

more bite, more certainty, less hesitation! 

scratchy, 

yet. 

The music (can I call it music?) of determination, of trying, of persistence. 

It's far from perfection. 

But,

that's precisely the beauty of it.

The hope, and anticipation of a flower bud blooming into something beautiful.

Lonely water~*

This.



Sometimes, you can't.

~*~*~*

So much to update - M's beautiful wedding, trip to Hanoi with 383.3, work, cello...

Then again, the long established fact is that I can no longer write coherent narratives.
Guess I'll have to let photos do most of the narrating and I'll write minimally.
Ah, photos. Patience, patience.

~*~*~*

Not looking forward to work tomorrow.

The cogs and wheels of my brain really need some greasing.

Alive~*

“Tsukuru remembered those days in college when all he’d thought about was dying. 

Already sixteen years ago. Back then he was convinced that if he merely focused on what was going on inside of him, his heart would finally stop of its own accord. That if he intensely concentrated his feelings on one fixed point, like a lens focused on paper, bursting it into flames, his heart would suffer a fatal blow. More than anything he hoped for this. 

But months passed, and contrary to his expectation, his heart didn't stop. 

The heart apparently doesn't stop that easily.” 

— Haruki Murakami, Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage

Last year, 

at times, I'd forgotten that my heart was beating. 

And I'd forgotten what it was like to be alive, to have blood course through your body, to feel present, in the here and now. 

This year, 

I want to listen to my heart beat, and I want to feel alive. 

No more in-betweens. 

I need a certainty - a concrete, irrefutable proof that I'm alive.