Valentine's Day is not a faraway memory, I can still remember the innate urge to prepare something "special" as the day draws close, to get a gift, not any other gift, but a gift that fits nicely into a series of gifts so that I create a meaning for the gifts that can be remembered, and a gift that whenever it is thought of, it thrills, then after a while, it lingers. When this particular Valentine's Day came, however, I forgot. It occupies a merely numerical existence in my mind that beckons no sweetness; it does not instigate my urge to do something, or in fact anything; it perpetuates a zombified state--a blank created by something taken away.
Or is it a clean slate, tabula rasa?
It always hurt the most when things first went off. It is like the most precariously held expectation starting to tumble down. It may be a small sign, a simple look, an offhand remark, a dismissive tone, but it hurt. When a relationship normalizes, I start to feel it is normal, part and parcel of everyday occurrence that makes a relationship real, that makes a life a life, not drama, a state of being worthy of experiencing, not al-together blissful, but anyway, worthwhile. So such a small sign gets internalized into a mechanism of blind acceptance and self-denial that "a sign is a sign, and a bad sign is a bad sign". Its weight is lifted off the heart. It no longer hurts that much. It ceases being registered in the consciousness of a mind now knowing how to be blissful, and grateful. So the angular shape smoothens, the irregularities normalize, the spikes hammered down.
So I am fogged in this blissful and grateful state, wrapping myself in blind acceptance and self-denial that everything is good. Badness is temporary. Things change. Things get better.
The truth is: things cannot get worse.
Self-suppression becomes almost an innate attribute but pent-up emotions need to get released elsewhere. Work is a good way to seek solace from. You bury yourself in work, in intensive intellectual working, in a vague comparison that boosts a little bit of self worth; then you try again.
It is like a reboot. Clearing up everything. All the fragments of realisation here and there, all the useful revelations or wasted junks. Gone. No single discretion is involved in that.
Tabula rasa.
I have in me a perpetrual, fear, for this. How to start, from here? From where?
Cowardly, I refuse to face this clean slate that is bereft of all the prejudice or harm I have suffered from. I refuse to embrace it as a new lease of life. I reject the opportunity to be reborn. I want to sleep it over.
So when nights are deep, I cry and bite the pillow. I shiver and I start. I am lost.
And the pattern repeats and repeats and repeats. There is some karma that makes it repeat itself, linearly, inter-generational, era after era, trapping everything inside in a huge engulfment.
The same biting of the pillow, the same shivering, the same startled face with fear. It recurs, just in different physical places, just...feels the same...
When I finally have the courage to say: enough is enough. When I finally feel the true anger. When I finally tell myself to breathe rather than to stand all these. I truly feel alive, burden-free, hopeful, invigorated, tabula rasa.
My fresh start.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Centimetres of growth~
It is a sobering thought that I am 21 and still look like a child. Never a tall girl like some others whom I used to play skipping rope with, I always try to feel tall: standing on a stool; standing on my tipped toes, or, as I am now entitled to, standing on heels. Resolution plays a great role in a person's life to spur him or her on to reach for the unreachable. Unreachable it may be, when I really do stretch (my joints when I train splitting for Latin), I feel pain, and eeriely, a true sense of existence. Resolution is about one thing at a time, planning for the future and molding it. Looking back, I had so many plans at the beginning of this year. Now this year is drawing to an end, I grow barely a few centimetres, though I do feel that maybe I get more than a few centimetres of growth.
There are times that I doubt whether looking back is a wise thing, when moments of self-denial strike. At some crossroads in your life, you were bound to have more choices than you currently possess, more untrod paths to explore, more possibilities to test on and more stories to imagine. For me, choosing law was one of the choices, but it never was a real choice. Devoid of any grievance or sense of grudge like some peers in law school have as they are nudged to pursue half-heartedly a degree with perceived "better prospects", I thought law was a too far-fetched choice: it was too good for me. Even now I still doubt that I would ever get the crux of it or really know the rope of mastering it. "Mastering" is a really big word, as I am, though learning fast and avariciously, still learning the basics--taking the first sampling. It does taste good.
Compared with some other paths that I used to imagine myself taking, law is not the most grueling one maybe. My heart went for things that do not operate like rocket science: I wanted to be a diplomat, to get my hands in international relations and to meet (rather than fantasize) truly amazing people--talking things out, making things happen--all so exciting. I also considered succumbing to the reality of being an engineer, capitalising on my forte in numbers, despite knowing full well that I do not really have any talent with creation, a trait all useful engineers have. When I tried to prime myself with what I was going to dealing with for a good four years of university life (and maybe longer), I went to Kinokunia this summer. Hopping from one bookshelf to another, I suddenly realised no matter how hard I wanted to prime myself to "get interested" in certain books, I could not make myself do it. I tried to decipher how an arch bridge was built in a book on civil engineering but subsequently decided that it was not my cup of tea. The law of natural gravity is as hard to resist as the natural attraction or predilection I feel for some realms of knowledge/facts/opinions. I would rather spend time on political science or possibly, economics. Strangely, I did scrutinize some law books quite cursorily and decided that those people writing/reading those books must have invented a language of their own! That was not normal English I was reading: seemingly innocent daily vocabularies take a life of their own to mean something drastically different. Strangely specific lexicon, I thought. I could not follow most of the books so I dropped them. Indeed, until now I still feel that literature on jurisprudence is so much more interesting to munch on than writings on substantive law, including some apparently commonsensical legal journals.
What really features in my half-year's dalliance with law is the art of subjectivity, or rather the manipulation of innate subjectivity. The word "manipulation" maybe a lot stronger than I meant. The emphasis is on the art of crafting sentences/creating sentiments/evoking reactions in academic writings using objectively assessed materials. The sentence may be a bit self-contradictory, but of all things in the world, there is room for subjectivity in any self-declared objective process. The due process in criminal procedure can be excessively technical, the reference to the "reasonable man" figure can be equivalent to no reference at all (despite the modicum of truth in that not all legal fictions are fictitious), and the irrelevance of motive/intention is going to crack somewhere under the disguise of public policy arguments proffered by courts. I know such proclamations are bawdy and irreverent even. They are against the legitimate image of law and the paramount role it plays in promoting order and certainty in daily life. However, subjectivity still seems to be mastered before the making of a truly brilliant law student. One MUST have an opinion--qualified or not. A subjective opinion is everything. There must be a stand to fight for. Though the orthodox holds the view that objectivity is so much more important that one needs to look through troves of old legal literature/case law before arriving at an opinion, I somehow finds it stifles creativity and due development of--common sense. What the Dean of SMU Law Faculty said is still fresh in my mind: you have to be critical--if you agree with a statement, there must be a reason why you agree with it, and if not why not. You must be able to back it up. Anything short of backing it up will cost you...(there is a lot un-backed arguments are going to cost you). For a short period this mantra really spurred me on to doubt or affirm with reason anything I read: articles on Euro-zone crisis, newspaper articles etc. It can get really interesting how the forum pages in the Straits Times can give diametrically different opinions. Sometimes I pick one side and draw skull-head on arguments I find unconvincing. It is great fun and great brain work. Everything is about subjectivity?
Of course there are failed attempts in putting forward the message in paper assignments. Not a native English speaker, there are times I have to bear the brunt of not getting the pithy part of my ideas across: too late to reach the point, belabouring on the obvious, or using the wrong word (miserably) repeatedly in the wrong context. Still, it is great fun to grapple with it, sometimes equally fun as to grapple with a substantive legal idea.
Sacrifices come along the road when there is no time left for other leisure. No one really loves living a hermit life but to be a truly dedicated academic one has to be a hermit once in a while. True revelation comes in peace. When people say "take time to..." they do mean take the private, quiet hours to reminisce/reflect/drill your mind. However, camaraderie does not necessarily suffer. It is healthy to rant or vent your emotions together with someone going through the same process as you.
So much for my searching for self and searching for law. Whatever abyss lies ahead, the best way is to hold the head high, really high--I have to put myself up to it, to look like it, to feel like it and confidence ensues. What is the "it" I am talking about? It can be anything! A desired self takes no definite form!
Even though sometimes I have to tip-toe, there are times the few centimetres do not matter. It is the centimetres of growth that matters.
There are times that I doubt whether looking back is a wise thing, when moments of self-denial strike. At some crossroads in your life, you were bound to have more choices than you currently possess, more untrod paths to explore, more possibilities to test on and more stories to imagine. For me, choosing law was one of the choices, but it never was a real choice. Devoid of any grievance or sense of grudge like some peers in law school have as they are nudged to pursue half-heartedly a degree with perceived "better prospects", I thought law was a too far-fetched choice: it was too good for me. Even now I still doubt that I would ever get the crux of it or really know the rope of mastering it. "Mastering" is a really big word, as I am, though learning fast and avariciously, still learning the basics--taking the first sampling. It does taste good.
Compared with some other paths that I used to imagine myself taking, law is not the most grueling one maybe. My heart went for things that do not operate like rocket science: I wanted to be a diplomat, to get my hands in international relations and to meet (rather than fantasize) truly amazing people--talking things out, making things happen--all so exciting. I also considered succumbing to the reality of being an engineer, capitalising on my forte in numbers, despite knowing full well that I do not really have any talent with creation, a trait all useful engineers have. When I tried to prime myself with what I was going to dealing with for a good four years of university life (and maybe longer), I went to Kinokunia this summer. Hopping from one bookshelf to another, I suddenly realised no matter how hard I wanted to prime myself to "get interested" in certain books, I could not make myself do it. I tried to decipher how an arch bridge was built in a book on civil engineering but subsequently decided that it was not my cup of tea. The law of natural gravity is as hard to resist as the natural attraction or predilection I feel for some realms of knowledge/facts/opinions. I would rather spend time on political science or possibly, economics. Strangely, I did scrutinize some law books quite cursorily and decided that those people writing/reading those books must have invented a language of their own! That was not normal English I was reading: seemingly innocent daily vocabularies take a life of their own to mean something drastically different. Strangely specific lexicon, I thought. I could not follow most of the books so I dropped them. Indeed, until now I still feel that literature on jurisprudence is so much more interesting to munch on than writings on substantive law, including some apparently commonsensical legal journals.
What really features in my half-year's dalliance with law is the art of subjectivity, or rather the manipulation of innate subjectivity. The word "manipulation" maybe a lot stronger than I meant. The emphasis is on the art of crafting sentences/creating sentiments/evoking reactions in academic writings using objectively assessed materials. The sentence may be a bit self-contradictory, but of all things in the world, there is room for subjectivity in any self-declared objective process. The due process in criminal procedure can be excessively technical, the reference to the "reasonable man" figure can be equivalent to no reference at all (despite the modicum of truth in that not all legal fictions are fictitious), and the irrelevance of motive/intention is going to crack somewhere under the disguise of public policy arguments proffered by courts. I know such proclamations are bawdy and irreverent even. They are against the legitimate image of law and the paramount role it plays in promoting order and certainty in daily life. However, subjectivity still seems to be mastered before the making of a truly brilliant law student. One MUST have an opinion--qualified or not. A subjective opinion is everything. There must be a stand to fight for. Though the orthodox holds the view that objectivity is so much more important that one needs to look through troves of old legal literature/case law before arriving at an opinion, I somehow finds it stifles creativity and due development of--common sense. What the Dean of SMU Law Faculty said is still fresh in my mind: you have to be critical--if you agree with a statement, there must be a reason why you agree with it, and if not why not. You must be able to back it up. Anything short of backing it up will cost you...(there is a lot un-backed arguments are going to cost you). For a short period this mantra really spurred me on to doubt or affirm with reason anything I read: articles on Euro-zone crisis, newspaper articles etc. It can get really interesting how the forum pages in the Straits Times can give diametrically different opinions. Sometimes I pick one side and draw skull-head on arguments I find unconvincing. It is great fun and great brain work. Everything is about subjectivity?
Of course there are failed attempts in putting forward the message in paper assignments. Not a native English speaker, there are times I have to bear the brunt of not getting the pithy part of my ideas across: too late to reach the point, belabouring on the obvious, or using the wrong word (miserably) repeatedly in the wrong context. Still, it is great fun to grapple with it, sometimes equally fun as to grapple with a substantive legal idea.
Sacrifices come along the road when there is no time left for other leisure. No one really loves living a hermit life but to be a truly dedicated academic one has to be a hermit once in a while. True revelation comes in peace. When people say "take time to..." they do mean take the private, quiet hours to reminisce/reflect/drill your mind. However, camaraderie does not necessarily suffer. It is healthy to rant or vent your emotions together with someone going through the same process as you.
So much for my searching for self and searching for law. Whatever abyss lies ahead, the best way is to hold the head high, really high--I have to put myself up to it, to look like it, to feel like it and confidence ensues. What is the "it" I am talking about? It can be anything! A desired self takes no definite form!
Even though sometimes I have to tip-toe, there are times the few centimetres do not matter. It is the centimetres of growth that matters.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Peaceful, rustic and undisturbed lives
It has been about half a year since I boarded the airplane with utmost relief and ineffable joy to depart from Vientiane, Laos International Airport. Now in the midst of a hard-wrought schedule with "eventful" days and weeks and semesters rolling in like items on an assembly line, I can no longer deny the deepest visceral longing--secret though--for an otherworldly retreat to deliver me out of this meshwork of spinning confusion.
Though my departure from Vientiane was as exhilarating mentally as it is uncomfortable physically, which I will talk more about in future, my arrival was definitely breathtaking. It is hard to depict how it feels like when I was one of those passengers crammed in a budget airline for the first time along with other familiar faces with the sole aim of landing safely, and returning from the harsh, and definitely backbreaking volunteer work unscathed. We had several transitions in between, and I purposely ensured that I was wide awake when any plane took off. The sound of engines roaring, wheels trembling, wings lifting and the sense of defying gravity towards an unfathomable sky were too awe-inspiring to be missed. I particularly treasured the moment when our plane had to wait at the crossroad for the plane scheduled right ahead of us to take off. Watching the huge, streamlined bird gliding gracefully into the cloud and its signal lights blinkering intermittently until finally disappeared into whiteness elicited a rarely experienced feeling about "oblivion", of which we were fully aware that in another moment our carrier would become another dot disappearing into the whiteness, equally internalised by the sky and its embrace.
The transition is Malaysia was brief, yet for the first time in my life I walked into Starbuck along with other, and I ordered nothing since I forgot to change for Ringgit, and the "contingency exchange rate" offered by our suave teacher in-charge was too economically unfavourable. Still, I enjoyed a good time playing board games and smelling the brew of coffee from others' cups. Mosquitoes abound, even in McDonalds, so we remained mainly in air-conditioned areas. When finally we reported at the LCCT Airport, the news about our plane's delay instantaneously knocked us out. We were all so expectant of landing in Laos as soon as possible, to get out of the concrete building and away from all the artifice and luxuries in the duty-free shops.
Our wish was finally granted when a few hours later, peeking down from the small window of our airplane, we could see terraced land, meandering streams, houses with corrugated-roofs and people with shabby clothes draped on their body. Finally we were out of our world.
This new world was instantly to our delight. We were so dutifully acting as tourists when we took shots of everything we saw: English words "Welcome to Vieniane" with their gratifying effect on us non-Laotian speakers, customs officers wearing "army costumes" with stars and rungs on their shoulder pads, dogs crossing the roads, and the motorbikes.
Though my departure from Vientiane was as exhilarating mentally as it is uncomfortable physically, which I will talk more about in future, my arrival was definitely breathtaking. It is hard to depict how it feels like when I was one of those passengers crammed in a budget airline for the first time along with other familiar faces with the sole aim of landing safely, and returning from the harsh, and definitely backbreaking volunteer work unscathed. We had several transitions in between, and I purposely ensured that I was wide awake when any plane took off. The sound of engines roaring, wheels trembling, wings lifting and the sense of defying gravity towards an unfathomable sky were too awe-inspiring to be missed. I particularly treasured the moment when our plane had to wait at the crossroad for the plane scheduled right ahead of us to take off. Watching the huge, streamlined bird gliding gracefully into the cloud and its signal lights blinkering intermittently until finally disappeared into whiteness elicited a rarely experienced feeling about "oblivion", of which we were fully aware that in another moment our carrier would become another dot disappearing into the whiteness, equally internalised by the sky and its embrace.
The transition is Malaysia was brief, yet for the first time in my life I walked into Starbuck along with other, and I ordered nothing since I forgot to change for Ringgit, and the "contingency exchange rate" offered by our suave teacher in-charge was too economically unfavourable. Still, I enjoyed a good time playing board games and smelling the brew of coffee from others' cups. Mosquitoes abound, even in McDonalds, so we remained mainly in air-conditioned areas. When finally we reported at the LCCT Airport, the news about our plane's delay instantaneously knocked us out. We were all so expectant of landing in Laos as soon as possible, to get out of the concrete building and away from all the artifice and luxuries in the duty-free shops.
Our wish was finally granted when a few hours later, peeking down from the small window of our airplane, we could see terraced land, meandering streams, houses with corrugated-roofs and people with shabby clothes draped on their body. Finally we were out of our world.
This new world was instantly to our delight. We were so dutifully acting as tourists when we took shots of everything we saw: English words "Welcome to Vieniane" with their gratifying effect on us non-Laotian speakers, customs officers wearing "army costumes" with stars and rungs on their shoulder pads, dogs crossing the roads, and the motorbikes.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Swim against the Tide
It has been more than one year and I still have the feeling that the phenix is yet to rise from the ashes. Many times I see people around me working harder, striving with fixed directions and bursting with exuberance and wonder when I can be like one of them, confident from within, the master of my soul. I keep my eyes on new hurdles and challenges emerging every so often, but the lethal drive for rebirth is not there.
I am not completely my old self, the highly motivated and driven soul who acclaimed to the world at the end of every week:" Tomorrow, I will not be who I am today." I am improving in my tenacity and patience, although the result shows at such an alarmingly slow rate that my old motivated self finds unacceptable. I cannot escape the gloom of comparing with my peers, those who excel, who endeavour till the end, and those who keep reaching for the laurels. Being easily contented with my achievements is my foible. It hurts more when I see with my eyes that the reward for the humble is greater...
One year to go before I can get admitted into my dream college, and it is a hard process to pinpoint my strengths, my passion and my uniqueness. I have always wanted to be unique, that is why I avoid the crowd and seek for experiences that distinguish my self from the masses. In Nan Hua, there is no match of me posed by the like of YC, but in Raffles, I have more than a healthy amount of matches who are driven, upbeat, and forward-looking. I sought alternative routes to define myself, becoming a Youth Ambassador, doing backbreaking volunteer work in Laos and Thailand, and tutoring kids in special needs schools. Maybe because I expect a lot from myself and thus face more setbacks when they do not materialise.
The momentum for this year is really picking up. I can feel the heat burning inside every one of us. Being surrounded by geniuses is just one adaptation I am yet to accustomed to. Meanwhile, I should start finding my uniqueness that really distinguishes me as exceptional. Still waters run deep. Hopefully I can prove my mettle.
Auspecium Melioris Aevi
I am not completely my old self, the highly motivated and driven soul who acclaimed to the world at the end of every week:" Tomorrow, I will not be who I am today." I am improving in my tenacity and patience, although the result shows at such an alarmingly slow rate that my old motivated self finds unacceptable. I cannot escape the gloom of comparing with my peers, those who excel, who endeavour till the end, and those who keep reaching for the laurels. Being easily contented with my achievements is my foible. It hurts more when I see with my eyes that the reward for the humble is greater...
One year to go before I can get admitted into my dream college, and it is a hard process to pinpoint my strengths, my passion and my uniqueness. I have always wanted to be unique, that is why I avoid the crowd and seek for experiences that distinguish my self from the masses. In Nan Hua, there is no match of me posed by the like of YC, but in Raffles, I have more than a healthy amount of matches who are driven, upbeat, and forward-looking. I sought alternative routes to define myself, becoming a Youth Ambassador, doing backbreaking volunteer work in Laos and Thailand, and tutoring kids in special needs schools. Maybe because I expect a lot from myself and thus face more setbacks when they do not materialise.
The momentum for this year is really picking up. I can feel the heat burning inside every one of us. Being surrounded by geniuses is just one adaptation I am yet to accustomed to. Meanwhile, I should start finding my uniqueness that really distinguishes me as exceptional. Still waters run deep. Hopefully I can prove my mettle.
Auspecium Melioris Aevi
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Prayer for Deliverance from Enemies (Psalms 143)
Hear my prayer, O Lord;
Give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
Answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgement with your servant,
for no one living is righteous before you.
For the enemy has pursued me,
crushing my life to the ground, making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit faints within me;
My heart within me is appalled.
I remember the days of old,
I think about all your deeds,
I meditate on the works of your hands.
I stretch out my hand to you;
my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.
Answer me quickly, O Lord,
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me,
or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Save me, O Lord, from my enemies;
I have fled to you for refuge.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God.
Let your good spirit lead me
on a level path.
For your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life.
In your righteouosness bring me out off my enemies,
and destroy all my adversaries,
for I am your servant.
Amen
Give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
Answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgement with your servant,
for no one living is righteous before you.
For the enemy has pursued me,
crushing my life to the ground, making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit faints within me;
My heart within me is appalled.
I remember the days of old,
I think about all your deeds,
I meditate on the works of your hands.
I stretch out my hand to you;
my soul thirsts for you like a parched land.
Answer me quickly, O Lord,
my spirit fails.
Do not hide your face from me,
or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Save me, O Lord, from my enemies;
I have fled to you for refuge.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God.
Let your good spirit lead me
on a level path.
For your name's sake, O Lord, preserve my life.
In your righteouosness bring me out off my enemies,
and destroy all my adversaries,
for I am your servant.
Amen
Friday, December 24, 2010
On the End of my First Year in Bishan
Eleven months ago, I packed up from Boon Keng's McNair Lodge to come to my new nest. Here in Raffles Boarding, we do not get the grow-ups' freedom that we got in NUS High Residence, and nor do we get the Holiday-Inn-feel we got at McNair Lodge, but it is in such a place that I met my important partner in life and spent an extraordinarily fruitful year. It is always with mixed feelings when we are on the tail of another year, but this year, for the most of the time I was in seventh heaven, bustling with my daily work and basking in pleasure with my new friends. Still a spindle, I spins on my own orbit, but the difference in JC is that my trajectory is bound to intersect with many of others'. New marvels, new discoveries, and new learning points, both pleasant and unpleasant, made up the greatest teacher called "experience" and led me to see what real life holds for everyone: opportunities and challenges, triumphs and heartbreaks.
I used to use a metaphor to dissuade the pessimists: life is not a bed of roses, but it is not a litany of dismay either. For a brave heart the brighter side almost always outbalances the gloomy one and the direction we should look is always forward. Counting the highlights of the year, there were quite a lot of new marvels, and speaking of the mode of life, I must admit that independence plays a very important part in everyday's life. Planning your own schedules, following your own pace, choosing your own activities and taking care of your own welfare as well. One loop wrong, and we may have to think of remedies for that. Here our knowledge about both people and life has greatly expanded and our stamina best strained. Daily life can be tiring but being in a friendly class and staying with people you love can outweigh all the downsides of a frenzy life.
My current work for the Public Utilities Board as an intern makes me further cherish my life as a student. It is indeed the golden years of a being and the time when all the excitement and fresh experiences can build our characters. And indeed, it is also the hard time that we learn about rules and authorities, and handle them with care. Working life can be very different and monotonously straining, but the upbeater is to keep to your goal and always visualise the end.
Christmas is coming and again here I have to spend a snowless Christmas. Nevertheless, it will be a brilliant one, I bet!
Merry.
I used to use a metaphor to dissuade the pessimists: life is not a bed of roses, but it is not a litany of dismay either. For a brave heart the brighter side almost always outbalances the gloomy one and the direction we should look is always forward. Counting the highlights of the year, there were quite a lot of new marvels, and speaking of the mode of life, I must admit that independence plays a very important part in everyday's life. Planning your own schedules, following your own pace, choosing your own activities and taking care of your own welfare as well. One loop wrong, and we may have to think of remedies for that. Here our knowledge about both people and life has greatly expanded and our stamina best strained. Daily life can be tiring but being in a friendly class and staying with people you love can outweigh all the downsides of a frenzy life.
My current work for the Public Utilities Board as an intern makes me further cherish my life as a student. It is indeed the golden years of a being and the time when all the excitement and fresh experiences can build our characters. And indeed, it is also the hard time that we learn about rules and authorities, and handle them with care. Working life can be very different and monotonously straining, but the upbeater is to keep to your goal and always visualise the end.
Christmas is coming and again here I have to spend a snowless Christmas. Nevertheless, it will be a brilliant one, I bet!
Merry.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A Cascade of Waterdrops
She turned on the tap and let the water flow.
Is it an undefeatable truth that an abundance of joy always overflows into sorrow? She hates the looming sense of foreboding, like an over-hanging chandellier of doom, so precarious that the gargantuan glitter could crush down over her anytime, like a bomb without a timer.
There was a timer, to her chagrin.
"Ooz, ooz..tick...tok..."
The water continued to flow, leaving a cascade of reflections in the fog-smeared window, and the grandfather clock never stopped ticking by. Dragging her feet across the creaking floor of her bangalow----a shallow one painted in dark yet gaudy crimson, Eliza sank to her bed and fell asleep the moment she touched the bedsheet. An unquenchable feeling of searing hotness swelled over her sockets; her eyes were burning like promethane flame (God forbid) and she clamped them shut like a stubborn oyster.
She touched a furry coil of softness and clutching hard onto it. That was her sole comfort.
Dizziness. More dizziness. The unwelcomed, much-abhorred debilitating feeling was crawling all over her, crippling her mind, numbing her senses.
She fell into a rabbit-hole.
Unable to reconcile with "the unbelievable", Eliza succumbed to the power of hallucinations as they bagan to gush forth her mind like a quill.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Short-circuit again. And she could not cry "Foul luck".
It was bad luck for her indeed.
As if fumbling to fill up a void in her life, she struggled to fend off the emptiness, yet to no avail. Her mind was assailed by a slate of hallucinations of begone days, yet all they did was add the additional touch of sorrow that afflicted greater pain. She's been tripped.
Flashing smiles, gentle kisses and strides with aplomb. Those impressions seemed so faraway since Simon's departure. She could never fathom why he chose the hard way to get enlisted and join the Army, and she would never realise that he did it for more than a personal reason. All that registered in her jumbled mind was that he was gone, like a cascade of waterdrops, and would never come back the same person.
It was beyond the point of no return.
Her instinct guided her to move on, albeit the gushing-forth of all the tender memories they shared on those fulsome summer nights when they just sat snuggly together at the foyer of her yard and licked ice-cream together. The chill of her tongue was soon tranfered to her whole body and the sensation made her shiver with joy. The moon would always be mystiquely full on those nights, and in occasions shrouded by a simmering steam-coat like a beauty wrapped in gossamer. Simon would wait for her to finish her final lick, and help her wipe off the inadvertent smear of cream on her spectacles.
It was on those nights when sky promised to keep all the secrets that they opened the floodgates of heart to each other. Admiration took a long time to blossom but they clicked as if responding to some unspoken spell, daring and binding, drawing them closer and closer. They were spiralled into a wonderful place where only them two existed.
And now he is gone, taking all her merriment, expectations and spices of life away like some ginie finally deciding to shut the bottle, or Pandora finally claiming back her spell after unleashing tremendous rupture in the Earth. Irretrievable. Unfathomable, and even abominable.
Foul luck.
"Ooz...ooz...tick...tok..." The dripping continued, so did the grandfather-clock.
Her ebony hair, now disshevelled and entangled, losed all its lustre before, and her smiling eyes grew more and more puffy, misty and dreamlike. Every Saturday, she would go to the train station to check the incoming trains for the next week, and every time she went back in disappointment that no train would come from her expected destination.
She entered into the pupa state, waiting for the awakening that became her hope of salvage. But before that happens, she is a pupa in a trance.
Is it an undefeatable truth that an abundance of joy always overflows into sorrow? She hates the looming sense of foreboding, like an over-hanging chandellier of doom, so precarious that the gargantuan glitter could crush down over her anytime, like a bomb without a timer.
There was a timer, to her chagrin.
"Ooz, ooz..tick...tok..."
The water continued to flow, leaving a cascade of reflections in the fog-smeared window, and the grandfather clock never stopped ticking by. Dragging her feet across the creaking floor of her bangalow----a shallow one painted in dark yet gaudy crimson, Eliza sank to her bed and fell asleep the moment she touched the bedsheet. An unquenchable feeling of searing hotness swelled over her sockets; her eyes were burning like promethane flame (God forbid) and she clamped them shut like a stubborn oyster.
She touched a furry coil of softness and clutching hard onto it. That was her sole comfort.
Dizziness. More dizziness. The unwelcomed, much-abhorred debilitating feeling was crawling all over her, crippling her mind, numbing her senses.
She fell into a rabbit-hole.
Unable to reconcile with "the unbelievable", Eliza succumbed to the power of hallucinations as they bagan to gush forth her mind like a quill.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Short-circuit again. And she could not cry "Foul luck".
It was bad luck for her indeed.
As if fumbling to fill up a void in her life, she struggled to fend off the emptiness, yet to no avail. Her mind was assailed by a slate of hallucinations of begone days, yet all they did was add the additional touch of sorrow that afflicted greater pain. She's been tripped.
Flashing smiles, gentle kisses and strides with aplomb. Those impressions seemed so faraway since Simon's departure. She could never fathom why he chose the hard way to get enlisted and join the Army, and she would never realise that he did it for more than a personal reason. All that registered in her jumbled mind was that he was gone, like a cascade of waterdrops, and would never come back the same person.
It was beyond the point of no return.
Her instinct guided her to move on, albeit the gushing-forth of all the tender memories they shared on those fulsome summer nights when they just sat snuggly together at the foyer of her yard and licked ice-cream together. The chill of her tongue was soon tranfered to her whole body and the sensation made her shiver with joy. The moon would always be mystiquely full on those nights, and in occasions shrouded by a simmering steam-coat like a beauty wrapped in gossamer. Simon would wait for her to finish her final lick, and help her wipe off the inadvertent smear of cream on her spectacles.
It was on those nights when sky promised to keep all the secrets that they opened the floodgates of heart to each other. Admiration took a long time to blossom but they clicked as if responding to some unspoken spell, daring and binding, drawing them closer and closer. They were spiralled into a wonderful place where only them two existed.
And now he is gone, taking all her merriment, expectations and spices of life away like some ginie finally deciding to shut the bottle, or Pandora finally claiming back her spell after unleashing tremendous rupture in the Earth. Irretrievable. Unfathomable, and even abominable.
Foul luck.
"Ooz...ooz...tick...tok..." The dripping continued, so did the grandfather-clock.
Her ebony hair, now disshevelled and entangled, losed all its lustre before, and her smiling eyes grew more and more puffy, misty and dreamlike. Every Saturday, she would go to the train station to check the incoming trains for the next week, and every time she went back in disappointment that no train would come from her expected destination.
She entered into the pupa state, waiting for the awakening that became her hope of salvage. But before that happens, she is a pupa in a trance.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Vascillations~
It is the first Monday that I felt such Monday blues, and this time it was different. I could not get off the "floating feelings" from me and it all seemed as if some sequence has been omitted. Honestly, the day dawned fine when I collected my ICA form for my student pass renewal form through a successful E-Appointment, but everything later seemed to begin to uncoil and entangle me into a big mass of confusion.
The ISLE Election should be the trigger. After a two-day bonding camp, there still seemed to be a giant chasm spanning across us, numbing our senses, preventing us from getting close to each other. The tense atmosphere indeed took a toll on me. I thought that my weakness was that I was not emotional, but the reality was the reverse. I am, irrevocably, an emotional creature and bogged down too much by my emotions. The fact that such blues could not be easily defused showed that I should learn Occlumency seriously.
Now, sitting in this nice Shaw Foundation Library with my best friend, I feel nothing is so terrible that cannot be overcome!
I've got my spirit back, because of you~
Thanks Bianca!
The ISLE Election should be the trigger. After a two-day bonding camp, there still seemed to be a giant chasm spanning across us, numbing our senses, preventing us from getting close to each other. The tense atmosphere indeed took a toll on me. I thought that my weakness was that I was not emotional, but the reality was the reverse. I am, irrevocably, an emotional creature and bogged down too much by my emotions. The fact that such blues could not be easily defused showed that I should learn Occlumency seriously.
Now, sitting in this nice Shaw Foundation Library with my best friend, I feel nothing is so terrible that cannot be overcome!
I've got my spirit back, because of you~
Thanks Bianca!
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