narcissism

Wishing for a reset button to make everything better again.
I suppose I’ve no right to be upset.
And now I’m wishing I never knew you.
I’m tired of being in your narcissistic world.

All I wanna do now is to watch the rain at the beach and skip some stones. Such simple things but never finding the time to do so.

We are only here for a while
Just passing through,
A whirlwind ride.
The skies burst into a kaleidoscope of colors
The beauty is but short lived
Like everything else in life.
I wish time would never slip through our fingers
I wish time never existed.
Oftentimes you danced in my mind
But I know,
You are never really there.
When the night creeps in
And the fear sets in
You are never really there.
When I wish for an embrace
And I think my heart is about to break
I know so well,
That you will not be there.

The days of skipping stones
Watching the clouds form shapes
Remembering the scent of petrichor
Of the summer rain.
We paint the sunset with our fingers
Build sandcastles with our hands
We dream of days in the spring
We dream of summer storms
We dream of red and golden fall
We dream of silver winters.
The days, the hours, the minutes
The moments when all our senses were alive
The days, the hours, the minutes
The years they roll out to sea.
Maybe we will find them again
Maybe they will forever be lost
Let me dream for a while
Of the days stolen
Of the souls time have taken.
Let me feel your breath once more
And hear our hearts beating wild again.

Been on a reading spree these days. I think I’ve read 4 books in the last 3-4 weeks. Anthony bourdain’s medium raw, Robert Louis stevenson’s Travels with a donkey in the cevennes, karl pilkington’s an idiot abroad, and lastly bear grylls’ the kid who climbed Everest. I guess the common thread among them is traveling but each with different purpose: bourdain’s for food, stevenson’s For travel’s sake, pilkington’s sort of a “dare”, and grylls’ for a dream. Of these, I found stevenson’s Perspective on traveling and the way he travelled extremely romantic. There wasn’t a Real purpose  to it but to simply move. He travelled from town to town, dropping in on inns, monasteries, and sometimes the open for a night’s rest. I thought that borders a little on insanity, sleeping in the open without any form of shelter. Will perhaps review a bit more next time.

Moving on next to James Joyce’s Ulysses. Finally found it in the library and it does look like an impossible feat to complete the reading within the loan period.

On another note, I think I must be totally spent after a year of studying. These days I could barely do the things I used to do- playing the piano/ukulele, painting, calligraphy, etc. I’m just vegging most of the time and reading. I wonder when i will start doing things again.

In a material world

I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move. 
Robert Louis Stevenson 

Feels like eternity since I last travelled to a faraway place. 

What entices us to move? I wonder. 

On another note, finding myself impatient these days, at people mostly. People moving too slowly, people talking too much, people being unappreciative, people asking for too much. I’m tired of people, I guess. 

Finding myself getting annoyed, disturbed, and disgusted by the constant coercing of the world to indulge more and more in material things : the shoppee advertisement (buy everything!) , the crazy queues for the latest iPhone/huawei, the pop-up Hermes carres thing (god knows what that is). I’m not sure why these things just irk me so much these days when  it’s not like I don’t indulge in things too.

I don’t know I just feel this world is getting so empty and superficial but what do I know... 

Re-watched good will hunting. The overthinker perhaps find it hard to love because you anticipate so much of the what ifs, all the worst case scenarios that would happen, letting logic win, when love is perhaps meant to defy all logic. Sometimes I wonder if it’s harder to let someone love us than to love someone. Because we are well aware of all the parts that may be unloveable, that others may not accept us warts and all. And so, we run away from love, run away from possibilities because it would be too much to bear when our prophesy is realized.

In other words- jhumpa lahiri

Have always loved her work, which mostly revolve around Indian migrants. The mix of reality and fiction is what makes her characters come alive. This book however, is a memoir of sorts about her love affair with the Italian language. Her frustration that she would always be seen as an “outsider” no matter how fluently she speaks the language by virtue of her appearance. It also speaks of her struggles with being an “Italian” writer after having made a name for herself as an American writer. Read somewhere that picking up a language after the age of 10 means that it would be next to impossible for us to speak like a native. I wonder why sometimes we are attracted to a particular language. Is it the way the words sound, look, their structure, vocab, etc ? Lahiri was so enamoured with the language that she uprooted herself and moved to Italy, feeling depressed when she went back to America for a holiday because she was no longer surrounded by the sound of the language.
I enjoyed the little stories she included in the book- her first attempts at writing in Italian. She also spoke of how she was enthralled by the poetry of Ovid’s Metamorphoses (so that’s where Kafka snitched the title) when she first read it in Latin. Metamorphoses is considered an epic and borrows the Greek mythological characters like the Apollo. Lahiri recounts the story of how Apollo pursued Daphne and Daphne wanting to deflect his advances, morphed into a laurel tree in a forest where she had longed to be. In a sense, Daphne was free but not entirely so. Apollo on the other hand could touch Daphne but not own her. I think it’s kinda bittersweet.

On a side note, I’ve not been sleeping much ever since the return from the Philippines. Bad case of insomnia, not sure why. Have tried barring myself from the phone from 10pm onwards but doesn’t seem like it’s doing my sleep any good.

I wish and pray for an uninterrupted sleep. That’s all I want.

Would you spend the days with me
In the half light of dawn
In the half light of the setting sun?
We would go the dusty roads
Catch the wind in our sails.
We may tumble and fall
You say,
But my dear,
The roads are a-calling.
Let the western wind jostle our soul
Let the tides toss us to shore
Throw caution to the wind
We are running into the storm.

The hardest part is often having to pretend that everything is fine and that you do not care. Sometimes we care too much, looking for clues just to confirm our greatest fears because, just because. Jealousy... in the past, I chose to be upset but now, I guess I’ll have to let things slide. Some things, they are beyond your grasp, and it’s better to let go. I think maybe some things and some people are not meant to be owned and perhaps, we are better off just knowing that that thing/person could make someone else happier.

You were only passing through.
Fleeting,
A wisp of gentle air.
My heart skipped a beat or two
When I heard your breath
But I remember now,
You were only passing through.

You were only passing through.
Swiftly,
You sent your heart away.
But for a second or two
I thought you belonged to me,
But I remember now,
You were only passing through.

You were only passing through,
Fading,
Like the last rays of the dusty sun
I long for an eternity or maybe two
But the night falls
And I remember now,
You belong to yesterday,
No longer a part of my tomorrows.

Living to tell the tale -gabriel marquez garcia

The memoir started with Garcia’s mother asking him to go with her to their hometown to sell their old house. Garcia’s life just seemed so unreal and dramatic that it felt more like fiction at times. I am also amazed at how he could possibly remember conversations and events which happened decades ago.  One finds riots, ghosts, assassinations, love, family, friends, poverty, deaths, passion, and so much more in his life story.
His father was bent on sending him to law school, which he obediently obliged for 2 years before deciding that there’s no way he could live being any other thing except a writer.  If he had not had the courage to rebel against his father, I guess we wouldn’t have 100 years of solitude and love in the time of cholera.
Garcia was an avid reader who was fortunate enough to meet other voracious readers who introduced him to the classics like Sophocles and the likes, which helped shaped his writing. I remember he was deeply impressed by kafka’s Metamorphoses, and thought the opening line of the story was the greatest thing ever written .
I guess I wasn’t quite as taken as he was. Went to borrow Kafka’s metamorphosis and I’m not exactly sure what’s so fascinating about a guy waking up to find himself having morphed into a cockroach. I guess the idea is startling and beyond imagination but the prose, I’m not so sure. The read was to be fair, intriguing enough to keep the reader entertained and the writing was moving enough that I felt the sorrow of Gregor and the frustration and impatience of his family at the end of the story. But was it something that blew me away? Not really.
Anyway I digress.
I love garcia’s Memoir and was moved by his passion for writing so much so that he was willing to go hungry for it. How many people in our time and especially in a place like Singapore, would be willing to make that kind of sacrifice?
The society has shaped our values of what’s important. We care too much about others’ opInions and the price tag they put on things. What is it that really matters to us?

The naked tourist -lawrence Osborne

I actually can’t quite recall if I finished reading The Naked Tourist before leaving for the Philippines. I think I did but after more than a month, I’ve forgotten what it was exactly about. All I remember was the author traveling to far flung places like Papua New Guinea and visiting some fierce and almost extinct tribes in Indonesia. And then going to Bangkok for some colon cleansing procedure and visiting a sex change clinic, etc. I think the gist of the book was about understanding what it meant to be a tourist vs a traveler. What’s really the difference between the two?
Is one better than the other?

How do we keep our souls from being stolen?
By the silver lights of the city
And the serenades of the sirens?
They call to us,
Peddling their wares,
Singing a chorus of sweet deceits.

I wander the black and white city,
Streets paved with gold and precious stones,
On the faces of passerbys
Were eyes that glint with a hunger
That can never be satiated.
They run from places to places,
Seeking,
But never finding a home.

Am I in a lucid dream?
Wide awake,
Or on the brink of sleep?
Straddling the worlds of dreams and realities,
Never knowing the veracity of either world.

This blog is so neglected. Just returned from a month long trip to Palawan, Philippines. I should have documented more of my thoughts, the sights, feelings, etc. I guess I didn’t find the time to. It felt like traveling back in time when I was there to the 60-70s Singapore.
Houses were made of attap leaves with no telecommunication network, electricity, flushing toilets (some still practiced open defecation). In one village, the only water source was a polluted river. It’s tough having to live in conditions like that But I suppose over time, one can get used to it.
I might have enjoyed myself a little too much over there that there’s this dreary feeling when I had to return.
There were nights where the entire city was shrouded in darkness and you could see the stars so much more clearly. The sari sari stores in the neighborhood were lit by candlelight. It was both fun and not fun at the same time.
Anyhow we even saw fireflies in the tree next to our apartment for one night. They are truly miraculous to watch, like magic stardust floating around.
I enjoyed the quiet but  the sounds of tricycles and the motorbikes broke the silence most of the time.
I brought along Gabriel Garcia Márquez’s Memoir living to tell the tale. Quite an amazing read. And I find myself yearning for that kind of lifestyle- whiling the time away in cafes chatting about everything under the skies with people who share your passions like books, arts, whatsoever. Will do the review soon.

It’s been just one bad news after another the last few weeks. Sometimes I think I’ve been so protected  under this invisible dome that I find it difficult to deal with bad news.

I wonder again if we have been chasing the wrong things all this time.

You know how it is, when we want things others have, think the things others want us to think, lead the lives we think others will approve of.

We romanticize things and spend our time focusing on man-made rituals rather than What’s truly important.

Find the perfect engagement ring, the perfect house, plan the perfect proposal, perfect wedding and perfect honeymoon, but forgetting to ask ourselves if this person is the one we want to love, to protect, to share all things with, for the rest of eternity. Most of us are short-sighted these days. We want these instant gratifications because there are some situations we want to get out of-the fear of loneliness, the need to flee the nest, social pressure, etc. what is it do we really want?what is it do we really want the other person to have? Are we the best for them? Are they the best for us?

I’ve ruminating on Ecclesiastes. How true it is that everything is meaningless under the sun. Solomon the wisest man had EVERYTHING and EVERY experience that one could ever have but eventually found no pleasure in any of them. What was his conclusion in the end? Obey God’s word. Period.

I think we will all reach a point where we find all this running and indulging in things, silly and futile. There’s always this insatiable appetite for what’s next.... what’s next? Do I really care? I don’t know.

Jane Austen- pride and prejudice

Pride and prejudice is so much nicer than sense and sensibility even though the subject matter revolves around yet again, courtship and marriages.
Much of the content were largely similar to sense and sensibility, so I’m not quite sure why I enjoyed this book so much more.
Perhaps much of it can be attributed to the highly likeable characters in the book like Mr Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane, and Mr Wickham.
I am not sure what the debate was about Mr Darcy but I would think everyone would love to have a Darcy in their lives- someone who appears standoffish but is actually warm and kind. His unwaning love for Elizabeth despite the rejections and the lengths he went to, to help her out of sticky situations, sigh....
I guess it appeals to our “desire” to have a hero in our lives, much like how the Marvel Avengers appeal to most.

A little history of literature- John Sutherland

Meant to write a review on this book as soon as I finished it but procrastinated till I’ve largely forgotten what it is I wanted to say about the book. Although the subject matter seems a tad dry(history!), this book was anything but. The book comprised mainly of small chapters on various authors like Chaucer, Shakespeare, types of writing eg epics, tragedies, subjects eg utopian/dystopian worlds, etc, which made reading it both a breeze and thoroughly enjoyable.
I was fascinated by the history of  the King James Bible. Prior to the 16th century, the Bible was only accessible by those learned in Latin and commoners had to rely on these translators for the “truth”. Then came Martin Luther who translated the Bible into “common language”, followed by William Tyndale who translated the Bible into English. He was later executed for being a heretic by going against King Henry VIII and Roman Catholicism. During the reign of Mary I, the Protestant bible of Tyndale was not favored and no more work was done till King James I authorized the translation of an official English Bible. Tyndale’s version formed the backbone of what we now know as the KJV Bible.

To be honest, although I own a KJV Bible, I hardly ever read it as I find the prose a little too overwhelming. Still, one of the nicest versions of the Lord’s Prayer is the KJV version.

Anyway when I was reading this chapter of the book, I was fascinated by the length people go to for their beliefs and their love of God. The Bible is so precious that someone was willing to die for it. Yet, many of us take the word for granted, never reading and valuing it.

This book is a highly recommended read for all and not just literature buffs.

With nothing

At the end of the day, we are on our own.
True love hides its face
And we are forever alone.

Nothing is ever real
All is but a misty dream
And I slip further into the underworld.

No one really knows
The secrets in our hearts
The truth is, neither do I.

Sometimes, sleep is sweeter than life
And I find myself,
Wallowing in my hollowness.

Where do I go,
The path uncertain,
Not with you, no not anymore.

You’ve walked me here,
To the finishing line
The sun has set and the cicadas chirp.

There is no one here
It is just me
Just me and the unknown world ahead.

Say goodbye, say all your goodbyes
Because we do not have tomorrow
Today is all we own.

We will never meet again
Me in my sorrows
A world you are not invited into.

It is just me
Since the beginning of time
I came alone, I shall leave alone.

What do I possess?
With nothing I came
With nothing I will go.

Sometimes you just wanna run away,
To a place where only the wind blows
And not a sound is made.
Solace, you will find in this place
A place to hide the tears.
I wish you would hold my hand
And watch the waves with me.
Because, just because
I am afraid.
Of what tomorrow brings.
Of todays that are unlived
And wasted.
I wish you were here,
To wipe away the tears
To tell me everything is going to be ok.
Whispers I hear,
Louder than the roar of a lion
Because, just because,
They speak the truth
I wish to deny.
Somehow I wish you were here
To cover my ears.
But I turn around,
And you are never there.
You are but a lingering shadow
That is never here
When the nights are long.
We don’t belong
You and I
On different corners of the world
You and I
We don’t belong
Forever, spinning out of each other’s sphere.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHlAUblEc2U
Why is crackling sound like music to the ears, I wonder...
The crackling sound of a fireplace and an old record...

Francis, we share the true relationship. Many couples live together under one roof and never share what we know together. Sure I miss sometimes not having more time with you in the small moments of life. Then I think of most couples living with one another day after day, but so separate from each other in their thoughts and feelings. Francis, we have fallen in love again and again landing in the great heart, the garden that extends forever. The eternity we know is the true poetry of life. The canticle you share is music for the heart inside every heart.

Just randomly surfing through my old posts..and I found this letter from St Clare. 
The eternity we know is the true poetry of life... WOW.... such a beautifully written correspondence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEkyWhvS1mA

I thought this was beautifully covered.
One of the best love songs of all time I guess.

Burnt my fingers reaching for that forbidden bloom
Took that first step which should never have been taken
Trapped in this room of doom,
forlorn and forsaken.

You took away what was mine
And now it would never see the light of day.
I sought solace in Time
But alas, the wound would never heal they say.

It is with someone else
that you build your dreams with
It is with someone else
that you share your songs with.

I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss
it is a song we will never sing.

3. If I received $10,000 that I had to spend on myself, I would:
Travel.. to where I'm not so sure. Greece, Turkey, Morroco, Maldives, Patagonia, Cuba, Peru, or Eastern Europe maybe. Or a camper van trip in some national park. I regret not trekking/camping in Yosemite or Yellowstone while I was living in Az.

Depression

I very much wanted to believe all the conspiracy theories surrounding Anthony Bourdain's death but I guess, we will never really know, would we? Just found it hard to believe that he of all people could have been suicidal. I wonder what's it like to be so trapped in the darkness of our minds to the point where we no longer have any desire to live, and to take that horrifying step towards self-inflicted death.
We can keep on having things but true peace, joy, and love, sometimes they could be beyond reach.

Feeling a little defeated these days to the point where I am self-sabotaging my work. I know the deadline is looming yet I have no desire to complete the final piece of assignment - the dreaded THESIS.

I am already reaching the finishing point yet I can no longer find the focus and the strength to carry on. Times like this, I wish there's someone who could just push me to where I need to be.
I'm tired and sick of everything.

Mr Penumbra's 24-hr bookstore - Robin Sloan

Saw this on a books about books list and thought it seemed interesting enough. Alas, i was a tad disappointed. The writing felt a little amateurish and I just skipped parts of the book, as they just werent that engaging. Overall though, the plot was not beyond redemption, and made for an entertainingly enough read.
Clay Jannon was hired as a clerk at an obscure little bookstore in San Francisco owned by an eccentric Mr Penumbra. The store sees few patrons and the few that came in, Jannon was tasked to record every little detail about them in a logbook. The patrons were like the owner, eccentric, and were part of a book club. Books were checked out and no money was transacted.
Jannon was told never to look at the books borrowed by the patrons but he could not resist one day and peeked. The books were filled with gibberish. Jannon decided one day to model the bookstore in his computer and sequenced the borrowing patterns of the patrons. He found to his surprise that the sequence of the book borrowing, actually led to a portrait of the Founder of obscure bookstores around the world. Penumbra and him then embarked on an adventure to an underground library in New York city to decode the codex vitae, which was believed to resurrect the dead members of the book club.
At the end of the adventure, involving google programmers, the truth was finally revealed. The real message was not found in books but on a letter punch for a popular font Gorritz-whatsitsname.

Ok actually now that I think of it, it's quite a silly read.

Everyone is so focused on acting savage, busy, and heartless these days. Meanwhile, I’m searching for the humans that believe in compassion, love, and human connection.
I am a human 
Sylvester McNutt III

So true. We live in a world where people magnify their own problems that there’s no more space left to let any light in. 

It chills me a little how insensitive people can get, eg “I think my cat is dying.” Silence and then “oh right, can I have your DVD player?” 

The Wine-Lover's Daughter- Anne Fadiman

What do I do to de-stress... write book reviews....

I basically gobbled down the book in hours... I felt drawn by Cliff Fadiman's (the wine-lover) love of wine and am fascinated by how anyone can be so knowledgeable and passionate over a fermented beverage. Cliff Fadiman was a famous host on a radio talkshow (Information Please), critic (of books), judge (book of the month club), editor, writer (Joys of Wine, etc), etc., a multi-hyphenated somebody.

Guess the book was sort of a tribute to him by his daughter. Born to a lower middle class Jewish family, Fadiman was ashamed of his family background and did his utmost best to crawl up the social ladder and denouncing any association with his faith. He was successful in doing so and was educated at Columbia and forged a lifelong career in the world of books (after failing to get a job as an academic), proving his parents wrong (they thought he would never make a single cent with his relentless reading). Although Fadiman was successful and wealthy enough,  he felt inadequate in the social grace department and felt as if he was beneath those who were born into money.

Perhaps as part of his effort to feel and look "cultivated", he threw himself deeply into the world of wines and literature, spending a fortune on his wine collection, journaling down all the wines he had tasted. The wines he loved were mainly the premier crus from the bordeaux region and cost a bomb now.

I admire his zest for life- he never stopped learning and working even when he turned blind in his late 80s but hated the fact that he was a misogynist. It must have been fun though being with an intellect and hearing what he had to offer.

A pity both his son and daughter did not turn out to be wine-lovers. Anne Fadiman at one point thought she might be genetically flawed when she could not for the life of her appreciate the taste of wine like her father. turned out she has a tongue full of papillae, more so than the average "taster", in other words, she was a super-taster and could not tolerate the strong astringent taste of alcohol. One would expect a super-taster to be able to discern and enjoy the complexities in wine more so than the average person, e.g. for me, I never could find >2-3 notes in a wine. I guess it's not so bad to be an average taster afterall.

The ending made me tear a bit, when Fadiman died. Guess I just cant deal with death very well.
Anyway the book made me wanna buy The Joys of Wine

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

An epistolary novel which consists of the main character Celie writing letters to God and later, correspondence between her and her sister, Nettie.
The book was an interesting enough read but probably nothing mind-blowing. Celie was raped by a man she thought was her father, and eventually gave birth to two children whom she gave away. She was forced to marry an older man who was in love with Nettie and so began her life of abuse and unhappiness. Celie never found her self-worth because the men in her life never saw any of her goodness that was hidden by a plain face. Then waltzed Shug Avery, a beautiful singer, and her husband's ex-lover, into her life. In Shug, she finally found her strength and beauty, and left her husband to build a life in Memphis with Shug (after finding out that her husband had hid all the letters from Nettie from her). We saw how Celie was transformed from someone who felt she was not worthy of anyone or anything to someone who was sure of her place in the world. I guess that's how love can change someone, lends strength to someone, help someone realise their self-worth. In a twist of fate, Nettie ended up living as a missionary in Africa with Celie's children, who were adopted by a local pastor. Nettie wrote Celie letters for decades, never giving up even though she had not received a single reply from Celie. At one point, Celie thought Nettie had perished after receiving a telegram that the ship she was travelling had sunk. The family was however, finally reunited at their old family home and when both sisters had greyed. 

This is the first book I had read in months. I guess with no more classes, I will have more time for books. What to read though...

You made your choice and your pushing to see it through, means your heart is following where it wants it to go. The bells will ring, the voices will sing, and a new chapter will begin. There is no need to hold on to hope, hiding behind the childish games, feigning ignorance, denying the truth that is in your face. It's the end of the story and we have milked it for what it's worth.

We are afraid to deal with alone-ness
why?

Greek Food

my mind has been pre-occupied with greek salad and hummus and pita bread.....the hummus+pita bread at Moosehead are seriously excellent. After having the greek salad (Horiatiki) at Blu Kouzina, I am just blown away by how tasty a simple dish like this could be. These dishes are simple to re-create at home, just that block feta might be hard to get in Singapore.

https://www.delish.com/cooking/recipe-ideas/recipes/a54226/best-greek-salad-recipe/
https://www.inspiredtaste.net/15938/easy-and-smooth-hummus-recipe/
https://www.halfbakedharvest.com/traditional-greek-pita-bread/

Even JAMA approves... yeay!
https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/fullarticle/2679958

The Heart and the Bottle

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj5lSmhUhhM

A beautifully written children's book but I wonder if children would appreciate or understand its meaning or maybe it's the adults who wouldn't understand.

I think it becomes harder to face your emotions and take the time to understand them as you age. Sometimes we sweep things under the carpet because we just can't deal.
How many times have we said it's ok, it doesn't matter, I don't care, when in fact it does.
How many times have we neglected to sit down and examine things, the root of the matter, and chose to busy ourselves with other more "important" things. We busy ourselves to forget, to brush things off to the side.
How many times have we chosen to hide our deepest feelings, sorrows, because we do not want to be seen as weak, as emotional? Why is it so hard to talk about these things? Why is it so hard to be vulnerable?

and i feel you slipping away
into a life where i'll not be a part of.

Alternative Universes

Imagine in the alternate universes, your life is played out in different versions.
In every single universe out there, there lives a you living a life based on the decisions you didn't make. Every single decision in life you make/ didnt make, takes you onto a different route. Every single person you meet changes your views, your decisions, your lifestyle, your social circle, your career, your love life, etc. The permutations are endless. How do you decide which alternate you, had made the right choice? Which one of you live a life well-lived? Wouldn't it be interesting to see how life pans out for each and every version of you?

anxious as I might be about the thesis, which has seen zero progress, i just cant seem to get the engines going to clear all the assignments first.
Kept getting writer's block and being distracted.
I really need a better strategy to be more focused and write quickly.

You are a heartbeat away from love.

Going through yellowed photographs
the red house by the prairie
where lavender dreams were made.
She remembers the days of love
of laughter that floated through the house
like colorful balloons.
He played the harp
and across the dusty floor
they danced their little dance.
You missed a note
she would say,
but he would grin
and continued to play
his bluegrass notes.
She remembers the day
when the rays of the sun
shone through the broken window
in the kitchen,
of the red house by the prairie.
He was sitting in the broken rocking chair
playing the familiar bluegrass notes.
You missed a note,
she turned to say,
but he did not grin
no more.
there he sat
frozen in time.
the harp no longer made a sound.
Gone were the days of bluegrass notes,
of life in the red house by the prairie.

we are all fitted in boxes
herded sheep
without a true shepherd
on the day we die
they lay us in the same boxes
they created for us
in a bed of lies we laid to rest
realising too late
that a life was wasted
chasing the gold at the rainbow's end
the neon lights of empty cities
the sandman came
and blew dreams of dust
into eyes that would never see
beyond the deceits of crafted dreams

Will you fall if I fall,
into the abyss of darkness?
Will you follow me,
when I cross the river of inferno?
Will you reach me,
when I am fettered by my own wretchedness?
Will you pray,
when I have drifted beyond hope?
Will you cry,
when I swim in my sea of tears?

We found our goodbyes in the silences.
To distant places, we go
Our ships set sail,
to different corners of the world.
No longer in the same universe,
You and I, we drift,
in the sea of silences we create.

A place beyond

We search for purity in a tainted world,
search for a shimmer of light
In a world shrouded in darkness.
Always searching, never finding.
Bright-eyed hopefuls that we are
But hopelessness trips us.
They tell of a secret place,
where purity lies,
few ever found it,
because we are often blind.
We are fools,
wallowing in our self-deceits,
wanting, yearning,
for things beyond our reach.
Wanting, yearning,
to satiate our selfish needs.
They secretly laugh at the hopeless fools,
what's right before their eyes,
they will never find.
For they are blinded by their own shadows,
tripped by their own deeds.

Smoke and mirrors

And we busy ourselves with the things that may us feel important
But are we really?
Smoke and mirrors
We live in a make-believe world.
Smoke and mirrors
We see what we want to see,
Hear what we want to hear.
We speak meaningless words
Laugh at the emptiness we create.
Silent the secret screams
That sometimes want to be heard
That sometimes ache to deafen.
Smoke and mirrors
We live in a make-believe world.
This is how we want it to be
This is how we could live our lie.
A lie, a life,
Separated by smoke and mirrors.

And I continue to dream my lavender dreams

Craving for steak and red wine... but alas I broke the bottle of the newly bought wine.. bummer..
Finished reading Alfred sommer’s ten lessons in PH. Very entertaining and inspiring read. It managed to bring excitement to the dreary epidemiological study and breathe life to data. Oftentimes when faced with a database, we tend to forget that behind each row of numbers, lies a person. Sometimes we detract from what’s really important -betterment of people’s lives and expend too much energy on KPIs- publications and what not. Perhaps we are just too far removed from patients to see the impact of our work (even if we just play a meager role).
Anyway Sommer made research seems like an adventure. He was a nomadic researcher of sorts and travelled and stayed in far flung places (at that time) and seeing first hand how his data transformed the lives of the beneficiaries. I also admire his tenacity in banging on doors and tables till real policy changes/ recommendations are made.

Finally a little reprieve from a hectic schedule but it doesnt seem like I will have much rest during the break either. Lots of work to catch up on. It seems like I've been rushing from class to class, assignment to assignment, that I have not really had the time to fully appreciate the readings and lecture notes. In fact, I've ignored most of the readings and I feel that I remain largely ignorant on the subject matter of all the classes I've taken.

Back to journaling prompts:
2. One thing I have always wished for is:
probably a thousand things. But what came to my mind first was:
Watching earth from above aka be an astronaut.

Unfortunately, this is unlikely to happen in this lifetime.
Maybe the second best thing (and a little more realistic) is to own a library complete with a ladder and then have all the time in the world to read and remember all that I read. I guess this in itself are three wishes.

I'm not sure what's happening to me. I feel I am becoming a little too arrogant. I get annoyed and irritated when menial tasks get assigned to me but the thing is I am not even good enough yet to do "bigger" things. So why am I thumbing my nose at such tasks? But somehow I just feel like there's  a glass ceiling above me and I feel stifled. Maybe it's time I pluck up the courage to pursue other paths.

On another note, not sure why I've been getting a sort of telepathy with people I seldom get in touch with. E.g. 3 weeks ago, I got this prompting to get in touch with a girl I am not very close with but I chose to ignore it coz I was "busy". Alas, recently someone told me that the girl has been having some difficulties in life and having suicidal thoughts.
Some months ago similarly, something told me to get in touch with a friend but again, I pushed the thought away. Subsequently I found out she was going through a major crisis.
I wonder how we somehow "know" these things and I wonder why I never act on my instincts.

https://pin.it/nflu6rnta6zwoo
1. Something I’ve always thought about as a child:
Are there aliens? Is there another earth out there where there’s another me with an alternative life. What does it feel like to watch earth from above?

Feel like ive not read anything for ages even though I have been sporadically reading Inferno.
Neither have I been able to write poetries..maybe academics dampen the creativity coz it's just routine and routine and routine.
I really like the LKY/Law campus, it feels a little foreign, as if Ive been transported out of Singapore. to a small, quiet town. Have not had the chance though to just while away the time there with a cuppa coffee and a good book. Maybe after I'm done with stats class.
I really wanted to write something but can't find the words to. Maybe there are some truths/realities that I just dont wish to face/ know.
There's always that insecurity that some things will end, some people will be gone...who can we truly depend on..certainly not human kind.
There was a lunar eclipse, blood moon, blue moon, supermoon tonight but it wasnt too spectacular in Singapore. I wish I could be in the desert with astronomy enthusiasts.

I wonder if I made the right decision overloading an extra module when I’ve absolutely no background in economics. Is it worth risking a better CAP? Do grades really matter that much? Or do knowing a little bit more matters more? At the end of the day, who am I doing everything for? Is there some place I’m meant to be, or do all these things not matter cept for the no 1 priority of God. What is it like for someone without a God ? How do decisions, situations etc take on a different meaning for the atheist? Wouldn’t it all seem a little meaningless if you have no other hopes cept for this one life which ends in 80-90 years’ time?
I don’t know.
Haven’t watched a proper movie for some time. These days I just can’t be bothered with wasting my time at the theatres watching something I’ve not really yearned to watch. Back in the teens years, I just soaked in the theatres watching every single movie there was.
Maybe I should watch a horror movie sometime.

Religion as a business

Been having writer's block for weeks..unable to write properly and piece things together for assignment. Wanted to complete the assignment over the weekend..alas, i've failed. been distracted and procrastinating coz i just kept getting stuck. God, i hate this feeling. Maybe I havent start feeling the time crunch yet. Although the semester is the same length as the last, it somehow feels shorter and i'm getting a little antsy thinking about the list of assignments ahead and my thesis. I just pray everything will go smoothly and things will work out.
I so wish that I have the chance to take more modules but a pity that work is a major hindrance. Would have been a better experience if I were a full-time student and not be distracted by a thousand other things.

Re-reading Dante's Inferno. It started out well but then I started to drift and get bored after a while. Somehow it feels as if something is missing from the poem. I guess when it comes to poems, translation just doesnt cut it. Sometimes a word is used not just for its meaning but for the way it sounds, rhymes, or the tone it lends to a piece. When it gets translated, part of the beauty of the poem gets lost.

Wanted to visit the school's library, gym pool, exercise classes during the sem break but didnt get to do it. Such a perfect waste of school fees...

I dont know what to rant about anymore. Had a discussion regarding the church's direction, strategy, etc today. Honestly, running a cell, church, etc can be very corporate-like and although intuitively it feels wrong to associate religion with business, i personally think it's legit in the sense that a lot of the business/marketing/management strategies can be applied to running a religious organisation. We similarly need a vision, mission, specific strategic objectives, action plans, outcomes monitoring and evaluation, survey, stakeholders engagement, corporate communication, marketing for outreach, financing system for sustainability, grantmanship, and even research to better understand your congregation. I wonder how Jesus did it? Did he possess all these skills? How did he manage his "congregation"? How did his work sustain itself through the years? It's an amazing corporation he has built.

2018

First day of the year and I woke with rashes. Not a great start I guess. Been procrastinating with school stuff, trying to decide what modules to take. A part of me wants to learn something totally different from my field, yet the logical side of me wants to take something relevant to "value-add". However, one of my classmates was right when she said since the organisation is not sponsoring my education, I should do it for myself. Yet I sit on the fence.
I dread going back to school even though I had enjoyed it during the last term. All the things I had wanted to do during the break, are left undone.
Looking back at 2017, there had not been much changes, with the exception of school and the waning fire in God.
I guess the less you do something, the less willing and the less drive you have for it. The key then perhaps is to never take a break from important work.
What have I achieved in 2017? scraping past Grade 7 piano and making it to next sem in school? I had dropped perpetually all church-related work in exchange, even with Sunday School, I've been inconsistent in attendance. Dropped out of LCEC as well coz I just dont find it that meaningful yet. Didnt go on any mission trips even though I did have spare time in December.
On the travel front, didnt go anywhere too far this year- Bangkok, Phuket, Bali, chengdu. I didnt expect to like Chengdu but I did enjoy the trip quite a bit, doing nothing much except for eating and visiting museums and the panda research base. I guess the weather has to do with everything.
What do I want to achieve next year?
Complete MPH, better fitness, internship, master the spencerian script, paint better, play the piano better- the tangible things.
The intangible ones, to grow spiritually and not always feeling that it's others' job to help me grow. And the issue of people... perhaps it's better to drift away, since there aren't going to be any results anyway.;there's just no way things can work out the way everyone wants.
https://www.ted.com/talks/ruth_chang_how_to_make_hard_choices
Read the transcript of this video..It struck a chord with me. There are always hard choices to make; I am not surprised if we spend our entire lives deliberating over choices, regretting them, undoing them, making new choices...Some decisions steer us onto a completely different path, some decisions follow us for the rest of our lives...Wouldnt it be nice if we just "know"? I think sometimes we do possess that innate ability of "knowing" but it is oftentimes drowned out by reasons, by the voices of others, by what society values,by what we think is politically correct. Like what Ruth Chang spoke of on her career choice- lawyer vs philosopher. The heart knew what she wanted but reason overthrew that but for how long could you deny the heart of what it truly wants? In her case, she was brave enough to finally give in to her heart and overhauled her life.
Could we really abandon reason, plausible consequences to follow our hearts? Is it always best to follow the heart?