Jazz is what I consider one of the most expressive genres of music. Sometimes, it carries a fast-paced tempo, yet the music can be sad, and a tad mocking. It can also be slow, conveying curiosity, feelings of anticipation, of wondering what's going to happen next. At times, it may sound like pure rubbish, making no sense at all.

Sort of like life, don't you think?

I'm sure the concept of fate has been debated ad-nauseam, but I just can't help wondering; how much of fate decides who we are? It's just a little strange knowing that our lives are already written the moment we are born, that we are destined to work a certain job, to love certain people, to live a certain life. Sounds to me like some freaky sci-fi projection of the distant future, or perhaps it's how fortune tellers predict fortunes.

In that case, how do we defy fate? Or is there really no way to escape fate, because it is fated that no matter what we do, we do it because of fate.

This discussion is either getting nonsensical, or too confusing for me to comprehend. Someone understands, but apparently it isn't me.

I just hope I'm doing the right thing.

Looking back on our past, I realize that we both were from totally different worlds. The places she goes, the things she does, do not seem to fit snugly into my world, and vice versa. Perhaps we were too blind to see that, or maybe we just needed more time before the pieces fit into place, time which we hoped for, but didn't have.

For now, I belong here. My life is here, and hers there. The timing was off. The places were wrong.

It just wasn't meant to be.

Seems like my family has an affinity with getting into long distance relationships. Particularly now, with my parents and sister in Australia, and my brother and I in the states. At times, I would question whether my brother had made the right choice. After he came here, he broke up with his girlfriend in Singapore, taking into account my uncle's advice and his own judgement. That decision of his, earned him the title of a 'jerk', which I came across through unpredictable, but amusing, circumstances. Maybe he was really one, or maybe he just had the ability to make better choices than me, no matter how painful they may be. But I would prefer to give him the benefit of the doubt, because I believe that he truly had feelings for that girl. After all, I once caught him playing "The Sims", using his and her names for the characters, both holding the same last names. Since then, he has been single for the past 4 years despite multiple 'opportunities', at least to my knowledge.

Can I say that I wasn't in the same dilemma as him? Probably not, because I got the same advice from my uncle, mother, sister and friends. Every single time, I chose to turn a deaf ear, and follow my heart, and I can't say it was all bad. Though I question, if I had followed in my brother's footsteps, would things be different now? Perhaps he made the most rational, maybe the better, choice. Although so, I would like to justify my decision with a notorious, albeit cheesy, cliche; "It's better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all".

Listening to "No Woman No cry" by the Fugees. I used to satirize my brother when he sang along to this song, but presently, it makes perfect sense. For now, I think I would adopt my brother's precept of "living life first, love later". No promises though, for who can predict when would love come knocking.

I woke up this morning, feeling as good as I did yesterday. Conceivably, it may have been the late night movie, possibly the small dose of beer before sleep. It may even be the morning exercise. Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it.

I'm on a winning streak, and I know its only going to get better. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. But in the long run, I know it will.

Some people have been complaining about how emotional my writing is, hence i think it's time for a change in today's entry.

There's so many people that I've met, so many friends have just gone by. Some I get reacquainted with, some just get lost in the process of growing up. Certainly, there are the ones who have been with me all the way. When getting reacquainted with an old friend, you either connect straight away, or you feel like you both have become very different persons. I wonder if it's the same with family, will it feel as though I'm talking to a stranger, after not seeing each other for years?

In primary school, there was Noel and Kumar. I don't think those idiots would ever come across my blog anyway, so I'll just skip them.

High school is where I met most of my best friends now. There's so many, I'm afraid I just might miss out on one, so I'll forgo naming. You guys and girls have done so much that affects who I am today. Basketball in the rain, scouting on saturdays, standing up for each other against teachers (ny threw his wallet, i almost threw a chair), chalets at changi, the name calling (thanks xh, for coming up with it, and everyone else for propagating). Those were great times.

My rebellious phase was at its peak in junior college. Playing truant regularly, hanging out with the craziest classmates during breaks (sista dont always sabo me!), standing up for myself, standing up for friends (hs you were almost twice his weight, just body slam him), and getting the worst grades I ever had.

That's probably the reason I got kicked to the states. Working in the school'd cafeteria/circus (my boss has a penchant for fires), road trips with my family to The Bay, Sin city, Lake Tahoe, had the longest distance relationship (Jon, stop scolding, i prefer sg girls. besides, she delivered herself to my door :P), met really great friends who helped tide me through difficult times (el, thanks for the supporting the blog).

Then there are the ones who just won't go away (seet, it's almost a decade! when are you going to get lost?).

Of course, there's family too. To my bro, thanks for paying for everything. To my parents, thanks for paying for everything. To my sis, I'm glad you're my sister (I know I'll definitely regret typing that, but what the heck).

Ahhh, life is good.

For today :)

Many used to ask me, "why do you smile so much?" I always had this strange tendency to smile, even unknowingly. Colleagues would ask me why I was smiling even though I didn't feel like I was doing so. Now they ask me, "why don't you smile anymore?"

Melancholy. I think everyone needs some of it in their lives. It's as though without it, there wouldn't be happiness. If one were to ponder closely, he would find that everything is subjected to relativity - without one, there wouldn't be the other. Sorrow is antagonistic to joy, as fast is to slow, as dark is to light. Seems like there is a flip side to everything. Of course, you could think of it as there's always a positive side too. It's just a matter of perception, whether you discern the glass to be half-empty, or half-full. Maybe I'm just addicted to sadness.

Pessimism actually isn't as bad as most would think. It's the strongest kind of security that you could get. Laugh at me and call it cowardice, or stupidity, but it can be plain common sense too. I can never fall far, because I would never climb too high, such that I'll be unable to handle the fall. There may be someone to catch you, but what happens when the very person who brought you to the heavens, leaves?

Building your life, dreams and hopes around a single person. When he/she is gone, friends say, you'll be shattered and lost. Family say, move on with your life, there'll be someone else. Others say, I told you so. I say, I loved with all my heart and have become wiser, sadder yes, but much wiser.

Push a man down and he'll stand up, stronger than before. Take his material possessions and he'll get them back, one way or another. But break his heart, and he may just never recover again.


He's giving you all that I never could. For the first in a long time, I sense that you're truly happy. Stay that way, stay happy.

How is it that the better I feel when I go to sleep at night, the worse I am when I awaken in the morning?

There's just too much that time alone cannot erase - I've known her for too long. Like a shadow, her presence still lingers around me, following me everywhere I go. No matter what I do, she's always somewhere at the back of my mind, but I never seem to know what she's doing.

"When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me"
-"My Immortal", Evanesance

I want to stop wallowing in self pity, but I start everyday from the bottom, not from where I left off yesterday. I desperately want to blame her, but I just can't find the heart to do so, because she really wasn't at fault.

When something as sublime as love goes to waste, who else can we blame but ourselves.

Chaque fois que tu t'en vas Je prétends que tout va bien.

I remember how this phrase went straight to my heart, and touched it like no one had ever done before.

Last night, I was watching the Miss America beauty pageant. Beautiful women with beautiful hearts and minds, apparently. I say apparently, because it is puzzling how they can actually talk about volunteering to help impoverished children, with a big smile plastered across their faces. Walking appears to be something learned too - small steps, synchronized movement between the upper and lower body, arms fixed in short oscillations. Watching the pageant got me thinking about what i really wanted. I don't want someone with the traits of a supermodel and the heart of mother theresa; all I need is someone who can be intellectual at times, who feels pity when she sees owners mistreating their pets, who prefers to stay home and make a meal together, who treats my family well, who will chase after a bus with me, no matter how unglamorous that may be, who will call me crazy when suddenly I pick her up and carry her across my chest while walking, but secretly loves it when I do that.


Well, spring break is finally at my doorstep, but I can't say I've been particularly looking forward to its arrival. Utter boredom, if I should say. Maybe that's why I've been going through old convos and webcam pictures. Hours on end, staring longingly at a face on the screen, conversing about nothing intellectual, making funny faces, sometimes shedding tears because you miss the other person so much. It all seems so recent, and despite that, so much like a dream.

Speaking of dreams, they're back again. This time, you seem so distant even though I'm right there beside you. The twinkling in your eyes and the scent of your hair fades with such haste, I'm unable to keep up. I try to run, but I'm held down with a ball and chain, of responsibilities I've yet to fulfill. We used to carry the weight together, but you're tired, you can't go on anymore. I walk much slower now, having to support this load myself. But at least it's getting slightly lighter with every step I take. I walk with determination, hoping for the day I can run again. By then, you will be far ahead, but I will run with all my might. And I wonder, would you slow down for me? I wonder, but I do not know. Will I meet someone along the way? I wonder, but I do not know. All I will have is hope; hope that if I keep running, one day I would catch up with you. After all, you did turn around once, and you found me.

Alcohol may just be the most marvellous, and at the same time the most inimical, invention of all time.

So after a few beers, I gradually slipped into a state of emotional anesthesia. The boundaries between reality and the dream world blurs, and I started to feel lightheaded, as if the heavy burden that had been crushing down upon me had suddenly been lifted. Its a most wonderful feeling when your mind can only conjure up the simplest thoughts - I hate the feeling of having to grow up, of having to learn about the harsh complications and practicalities of the real world.

I have the world sitting in the palm of my hand.

And then the effects begin to wear off in the wee hours of the morning. I awaken to the darkness with a parched mouth and startling consciousness, and the stifling myriad of emotions and boxed-up thoughts all come flooding back. Confusion, sadness, loneliness and guilt trample upon my no longer etherized mind without mercy, like bulls at a bull run. Reality shakes me hard, demanding that I repay the debt that i had accumulated with each gulp of intoxication I downed a few hours before.

Its exhausting to grow up. The world becomes so much more complicated, like a labyrinth of never ending streets, and with each turn, you are confronted by even more choices, each one leading down terribly different paths. The worst part is, there is no rote recipe to follow; sometimes the best choice is made with rationality, sometimes with intuition, sometimes with emotions, and it is unavoidable that you would make a wrong choice at one point or another. Yet you wonder, whether all the paths ultimately lead to the same ending, and if so, shouldn't any path you take be neither right nor wrong?

Yes, indeed there are no right or wrong choices, if you were to throw the concept of morality out of the window. It all condenses to how you choose to lead your life; with fame? fortune? love? deceit? integrity? Add in the notions of morality, practicality, fate and all you get is one big crazily perplexing world.

Innocence and naiveness, once lost, can never be regained. I don't want to know how the world works. I don't want to lose all the magic. I want to be told its ok to cry. I want to be told that tomorrow will be better, and I want to truly believe it.

I want to be a kid again.

Sometimes there's just too much guilt in this world.

I don't blame you, i really don't. I know i couldn't be there for you when you needed me. I feel so much guilt for making you cry, again and again. Somehow, hearing you're with someone new gives me closure. Now, i know you wouldn't be lonely anymore. You wouldn't be crying anymore. Friends ask me: how is it that you feel better after learning she's with someone new? Honestly, i don't know. I guess when you really love someone, you want them to be truly happy. Never thought it was possible, but now i know it is.

At the very least, now i know what it feels like to experience true love; the kind that makes you glad as long as you know she's happy. And I'm thankful for that.

Of course, there are nights when i still think of us. The crazy things we've done, the happy times we've been through. I think of the wonderful memories; of whisking you off to a corner and kissing you, of lying beside you and just watching you sleep.

I just need one last promise, and please keep this one. *hook last fingers*

Promise me that you'll be happy. Thats all I really need.

Promise me your happiness.

Once again, the house returns to being empty and quiet. The occasional creak of the floorboards and the heavy heave of the walls settling in for the cold march night seem ever so clear. The chilly wind penetrates every corner, and the steady chug of the boiler accompanies the infrequent howling outside, accentuating the lack of human voices.

You sense it coming; you hear its gradual descent and you shuffle to your feet, in a hurry to close the windows. Yet, it is certain that would not stop it, so you scramble to fill the room with any sort of noise you can create, any din you can make. But you know deep down, and fear, that soon it will be here - you are just delaying its arrival.

Soon enough, it emerges without formal notice, stealthily, steadily, quietly creeping up towards you, seeping through the cracks in the walls, from beneath the very ground you stand upon. You fight it with all your might, but to no avail; intangibility is its deadliest trait. Slowly it engulfs you. You scream but there is no sound -- taking its place are tears of fear, and you curl up under a blanket, but the intense cold arises from within you, and condenses in your gut, sitting there like a melting block of ice. The noises turn into a sad melody, and it is the saddest song you have ever heard. It is your song.

After what seems like eternity, it retreats with deliberation and crawls back into the now silent night. Your sobs are reduced to a slow trickle, like droplets from a loose tap, and your heavy breathing is accompanied only by the sympathetic sigh of the house, the sorry rustling of leaves and woeful chirps of crickets.

And then with slow realization, you understand why people fear it so much. You feel sorry for those who have to go through it, especially the ones who have had to face it because of you.

You understand loneliness.

The brother and mother are making alot of noise again. Armed with a razor, and much concentration, she is currently trying to trim his hair while he gives "what did you do wrong?!"-related exclaimations. Its utter hilarity I tell you, and it certainly does wonders for my mood. Surely I'm going to miss the sporadic din of mother-brother interactions when she heads for australia tomorrow.

I never thought I would be so comfortable talking to my mother about relationships, maybe because I never tried. It might seem inappropriate at first, but it can be reassuring to discover how understanding one's parents could be. You would be surprised to learn what they have been through in life. Someday, I hope to be as much as a friend my mum has been to me, to my kids as well.

It's nice to know that no matter what, I can always count on my family to be there :)

Thanks mum!



calculussssssss exammmmm in less than 24 hours. RAWR!

Today the inevitable happened. I saw it coming, yet i knew i couldn't do anything about it. Some of us cannot live without the constant feeling of being loved, and you happen to be one of them. i know, because i was once there for you.

I think I'm coping pretty well, comparatively to what i thought i would do if i ever heard about it. Somehow, hearing it from you made it better; knowing you're doing better made it ok, knowing you're happier made it easier. In an unexplainable sort of way, i kind of feel a little proud of myself -- it's sort of like seeing an injured bird fly again.

I picked you up
and nursed your injuries,
with meticulous hands
I mended your broken heart.
We went far and deep,
in those memorable times
we spent together.

Now that you are ready to fly,
I will let you go,
reluctant as i am.

Why the guilt-ridden eyes?
Why the tears?
I will be happy in my own way.
Because seeing you fly,
is another kind of beauty itself.

So fly high and far my love,
fly to the skies.
Fly with joy and laughter,
fly with strength and courage.

But if you are ever hurt again,
I will be here,
to once again heal your wounds,
and wipe the sorrow from your
beautiful countenance.

Perhaps then,
I will have grown wings.
And I will fly,
at last by your side.
Through rain and sunshine,
till the ends of the world.



I find my flair for poetry rather comforting :)

It's pretty ironic, that after everytime i hear about something that's supposed to "hurt", i sleep much better. it's a pity though, that it only lasts one night. who knows what i'll feel like tommorrow. Well, one step at a time i guess.

So, i finally decided to start a blog, having discovered the power of writing. i never knew that putting down your thoughts on a piece of paper could relieve me of much pent-up frustrations and emotions.

This reminds me of this journal i used to keep in high school. i would write practically anything in this blue, slightly perfumed book (ack, what was i thinking then? FYI, i didnt know it was scented when i bought it). unfortunately, curiousity is unbelieveably overwhelming in many people, which i later came to know. my best buddies would do anything to take a peek in it. and when i say anything, i mean ANYTHING. this included a traumatizing stint in one of those oversized cylindrical trash cans. do you know that if u sit in one of those, or is forced to, it is impossible to get out by yourself? at that point of time, i suddenly had much sympathy for hermit crabs. i was then tipped over and rolled about, only managing to escape with sheer determination. of course, realizing what had caused my romp with the trash can, i then proceeded to burn the cursed book and almost caused a fire. that was when i decided to stay the hell away from scented journals and garbage collection utilities.


Yesterday was St. Patrick's day a.k.a my brother's 21st birthday. Finally we, or rather just him, are of legal age to purchase alcohol. alas, my incessent requests for some irish liquor was repeatedly denied given his worries about drinking anything in a glass bottle in the presence of our mother. i then proceeded to remind him of the time our dear mother gave us a jolly shandy when we were just five or six, and was then greeted with a certain vulgarity pertaining to sexual intercourse. Actually, i dont really drink; guess i was just caught up in the irish spirit, or another excuse for americans to drink.


Anyway, i have an organic chem and calculus exam coming up.(someone shoot me). Pressure Pressure. Study study. I have an unforgettable past with repeating a same word twice -- its not that far back actually.

On to a more solemn question: Is there really a right one? My response to a friend's comment about meeting the right one went like that: "i used to believe that there was a right one, but not anymore. its just an occupation conjured up by your own hopes abt someone, so that u can justify your own choices." i think i left her pretty much speechless.

And maybe thats why i still think you're the right one.

Dream dream.