another good day. ^^
when buying hot chocolate at angazi with simon this morning, was served by a blond girl with a ponytail and the cutest smile i seen in a while. dimples, eyes that crinkle, and she had those little sharp incisors that you either find incredibly adorable or disgusting. a quick glance at her tag revealed her name was "christine" or "christina". made me randomly smile to myself for the rest of the morning. it's quite nice to meet someone with a really pretty smile.
went back for lunch again with in sun, and hey, it was the blond girl with the great smile who served us again. lol. what are the chances? ^^ and she was quite conscientious too; was quite quick to pick up that they forgot a side-dish of potato salad i had ordered even though she wasn't the one who brought out the food. so that was why she was bobbing her head up and down at the counter and glancing over. ^^
surprising how much a nice person with a pretty smile can cheer me up so much.
walking home, sun was out and warm on the skin, looked up and saw the sky was that robin-egg shade of blue that i don't know how else to describe. breathed in the scent of earth and grass and flowers, and yes, it is a good day.
Friday 31 August 2007
post 31. worth of a person... dead
really should be studying, but the internet can be so addictive. stumbled onto this. hah. thought i would be worth more. barely 5k. that's less than half of my semester fees. >_<
$4975.00
$4975.00
Mingle2 - Dating Site
Thursday 30 August 2007
post 30. Wayne Coyne plays Taps
Taps, also sometimes known as Day is Done, is the tune played in the United States Army to mark "lights out" and is also played at military funerals. It is the most famous military tune, apparently, as it was played at JFK's funeral and was thus heard world-wide. There are numerous stories about the origin of Taps, but I'll leave that for you to Google/Wiki it up. ^^ Taps is usually played on a bugle or trumpet; there is a current shortage of buglers in the States so that at some funerals, only a tape recording of the piece can be provided.
Anything I want to say about this piece of music, well, the dude has said it well enough.
Why a post about Taps? Hmmm, long story. It has to do with a submarine known as the Hunley. Used in the Civil War, it was the first submarine to successfully sink a warship. And the most amazing thing of all, it was hand-powered. By 8 men, 7 to power the sub, 1 to steer.
The courage, or desperation, that drove these men, it is quite frightening. 8 men trying to take down a 1800-ton warship through the sheer might in their arms. Madness or courage, or a little of both.
The Hunley completed its mission successfully, but unfortunately, sank on the way back. All crew members perished at their posts.
Again, there is a famous legend about the captain of the Hunley, Lt George E. Dixon. Dixon was given a gold coin by his sweetheart as a good luck charm and a token of her love. Dixon kept the gold coin with him always, and as the story goes, it saved his life when he was shot in the leg during the Battle of Shiloh, which took place before he took on command of the Hunley.
Anyway, when they finally raised the remains of the Hunley a few years ago, they found a gold coin with one of the crew members, who was later verified to be Dixon through DNA testing. The gold coin was bent in the middle and engraved with the following:
Shiloh
April 6, 1862
My life Preserver
G. E. D.
Life is sometimes more romantic than fiction, huh?
So what has all this got to do with Taps? Not much, except that all 8 crew members of the Hunley were buried with full military honours, and during the ceremony they played Taps. And I just wanted to hear what Taps sounded like. That is all.
Wednesday 29 August 2007
post 29. pancakes IS our friend ^^
one of the major food staple in our house is, not rice or pasta as expected in a house inhabited by 3 hungry guys, but pancakes!
pancakes are faster to cook than rice, more satisfying than plain old pasta, and fill you up to boot. you can have it deliciously sweet, drowing in syrup, or chuck some bacon or ham in there to make it more meaty for a real man's meal. ^^ and there is just something about the fragrant aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove that just whets the appetite.
the best brand i have found so far is white wings. comes in a bottle. just add water, shake the hell out of it, and viola, just need to cook it up. i only ever tried doing pancakes from scratch once before, and really, i think the white wings actually taste better. less hassle.
this is just a view of how much we love pancakes in this house. 4 bottles in the pantry, 3 of them belonging to me, the other to simon.
more bottles, all nicely lined up.
another view. simon just loves mixing it up.
cooking in the pan. ummmmm~~ can you not smell the good stuff? ^^
presto. the final product. lol. delish. ^^
pancakes are faster to cook than rice, more satisfying than plain old pasta, and fill you up to boot. you can have it deliciously sweet, drowing in syrup, or chuck some bacon or ham in there to make it more meaty for a real man's meal. ^^ and there is just something about the fragrant aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove that just whets the appetite.
the best brand i have found so far is white wings. comes in a bottle. just add water, shake the hell out of it, and viola, just need to cook it up. i only ever tried doing pancakes from scratch once before, and really, i think the white wings actually taste better. less hassle.
this is just a view of how much we love pancakes in this house. 4 bottles in the pantry, 3 of them belonging to me, the other to simon.
more bottles, all nicely lined up.
another view. simon just loves mixing it up.
cooking in the pan. ummmmm~~ can you not smell the good stuff? ^^
presto. the final product. lol. delish. ^^
post 28. christina sends me a letter i wrote
itx interesting sometimes to look back and see the stuff i used to write, to see the evolution or degeneration of my writing style. also, itx kind of a fragment of time captured on virtual paper, a reflection of the way i used to think.
so when christina mou said she still had all the emails i sent her before, i was very surprised and oddly touched that someone thinks so highly of my writing. then i shamelessly begged her to resend one to me so that i can take a look at what i wrote.
so here is one letter i wrote to some friends in the states before i flew here to perth. it must have been more than 3 years ago. i am still so touched by mou's action.
itx titled: of potatoes and other stuff
cooking has always held an subliminal attraction for me. to take fresh raw materials, and to chop and slice and dice, and in an frenized orgy of fire, heat, oils and butter, blend the various smells and tastes into a dish to whet the senses and nourish the heart- that has always seemed to me on a level with the divine, the act of creation through destruction, an experiience that is electricifying, mysterious, and yet quite mundane. that is why good cooks rate higher in my book than lawyers and doctors. and that is why i really hate bad food; restaurants that serve food smothered in overpowering gravies and sauces so that you can't even taste the food, should be shot and sent to burn in hell. that is also why my friends find it a pain to eat out with me. hahaha.
>
> to make it up to them for their long-suffering patience, i didn't mind too much when i had to prepare some food for a picnic. it doesn't sound very generous until you take into consideration a)they didn't bother to inform me until the afternoon before the picnic and b) the picnic was supposedly to celebrate (are they THAT happy to see me go?) my leaving for autralia for studies. shouldn't i, as the object of celebration, have to do nothing but show up and saunter around?
>
> at the end of the day, i learnt some things. preparing food is exhausting. from the selection, the preparation, to the final consumpation of the food, the process is more tiring than i expected. it took more me out to prepare twoscore sandwiches and a salad than to run for five klicks. when you run, you can at least expect a second wind; in cooking, you can't even let up for a while with no respite in sight.
>
> at this point, you're probably wondering what the point of this letter is. no, itx not really about cooking. the point of this letter is, i believe that everyone would like to mark the start of a new period in their lives with some commerative action, whether it be to go on an alcohol-fuelled night of debauchery and revelry or a quiet picnic by the beach. and it is usually best when shared with friends and people near and dear to the heart. what i'm trying to say, through all my wanderings and meanderings, is that, through this poorly-worded letter, i would like to share with you all this closing of one chapter in my life, and the start of a another.
>
> (if you thought that was long and convulated, imagine me trying to say it. i write better than i talk, so if i were to really try to say it all out, you would all still be hearing me talk about eggs and salads. as you can see, pc, i still have not rid myself of the habit of beating around the bush.)
>
> so before i leave on the 26th, i thought i should write to you all. the older i get, the more i identify with my heritage. the younger me would have just packed and left, with at most a curosry goodbye note, and letx not have all that so long, farewell bullshit. i was quite anglonized in my thinking, and i could never understand why the chinese took so long over goodbyes. in one of the rare few chinese novels that i have read (Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger), the host sends our protagonist off, walks with him to some inn, lingers over a few cups of wine, walks with him some more, and finally cries when he has to turn back. i thought that was the gayiest thing ever, and swore that would never happen to me. better the stoic cowboy way of blowing town without saying goodbye to anyone. i was secretly embarassed by all things chinese, and good riddance to all those rituals and meaningless courtesies. goodbyes are, however, more than a form of courtesy; they are a form of reassurance, reassurance to those who are leaving that those who are left behind will be safe and well, and a mute achknowledgement of our mortality. to have met and known, is that not something precious and to be treasured, for who knows when we will meet again?
>
> i have talked enough by now, if not too much, so let me end here. i hope that this finds you all happy and well, and i hope to be able to hear from you soon.
>
> and in case you were wondering what potatoes had to do with all this, well, i still have a basket of potatoes left and i was planning to have baked potato tomorrow.
i don't really remember what picnic we had. i am terrible in that way, in that i forget things quite easily. oh wait, actually, itx starting to come back some. i think it was a picnic at sentosa that i had with gary, crystal, lynn and her bf i think. and for some reason, lynn went swimming in the sea and there was a bottle of red in there somewhere i think. hmmm. i am sure that happened, but not sure if it was the picnic i was writing about. i remember the sun was going down and hmmm, crystal's sunglasses or something. did she break them. lol. too long ago.
well, it was quite strange reading the stuff i wrote. itx like reading a familiar stranger's writings, not quite alien but then, not quite your own. i think i wouldn't say "gay" anymore and probably tone some things down too. but i really like "Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger." that is vintage me. ^^ oh even then, i already liked running. cool. :p
so when christina mou said she still had all the emails i sent her before, i was very surprised and oddly touched that someone thinks so highly of my writing. then i shamelessly begged her to resend one to me so that i can take a look at what i wrote.
so here is one letter i wrote to some friends in the states before i flew here to perth. it must have been more than 3 years ago. i am still so touched by mou's action.
itx titled: of potatoes and other stuff
cooking has always held an subliminal attraction for me. to take fresh raw materials, and to chop and slice and dice, and in an frenized orgy of fire, heat, oils and butter, blend the various smells and tastes into a dish to whet the senses and nourish the heart- that has always seemed to me on a level with the divine, the act of creation through destruction, an experiience that is electricifying, mysterious, and yet quite mundane. that is why good cooks rate higher in my book than lawyers and doctors. and that is why i really hate bad food; restaurants that serve food smothered in overpowering gravies and sauces so that you can't even taste the food, should be shot and sent to burn in hell. that is also why my friends find it a pain to eat out with me. hahaha.
>
> to make it up to them for their long-suffering patience, i didn't mind too much when i had to prepare some food for a picnic. it doesn't sound very generous until you take into consideration a)they didn't bother to inform me until the afternoon before the picnic and b) the picnic was supposedly to celebrate (are they THAT happy to see me go?) my leaving for autralia for studies. shouldn't i, as the object of celebration, have to do nothing but show up and saunter around?
>
> at the end of the day, i learnt some things. preparing food is exhausting. from the selection, the preparation, to the final consumpation of the food, the process is more tiring than i expected. it took more me out to prepare twoscore sandwiches and a salad than to run for five klicks. when you run, you can at least expect a second wind; in cooking, you can't even let up for a while with no respite in sight.
>
> at this point, you're probably wondering what the point of this letter is. no, itx not really about cooking. the point of this letter is, i believe that everyone would like to mark the start of a new period in their lives with some commerative action, whether it be to go on an alcohol-fuelled night of debauchery and revelry or a quiet picnic by the beach. and it is usually best when shared with friends and people near and dear to the heart. what i'm trying to say, through all my wanderings and meanderings, is that, through this poorly-worded letter, i would like to share with you all this closing of one chapter in my life, and the start of a another.
>
> (if you thought that was long and convulated, imagine me trying to say it. i write better than i talk, so if i were to really try to say it all out, you would all still be hearing me talk about eggs and salads. as you can see, pc, i still have not rid myself of the habit of beating around the bush.)
>
> so before i leave on the 26th, i thought i should write to you all. the older i get, the more i identify with my heritage. the younger me would have just packed and left, with at most a curosry goodbye note, and letx not have all that so long, farewell bullshit. i was quite anglonized in my thinking, and i could never understand why the chinese took so long over goodbyes. in one of the rare few chinese novels that i have read (Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger), the host sends our protagonist off, walks with him to some inn, lingers over a few cups of wine, walks with him some more, and finally cries when he has to turn back. i thought that was the gayiest thing ever, and swore that would never happen to me. better the stoic cowboy way of blowing town without saying goodbye to anyone. i was secretly embarassed by all things chinese, and good riddance to all those rituals and meaningless courtesies. goodbyes are, however, more than a form of courtesy; they are a form of reassurance, reassurance to those who are leaving that those who are left behind will be safe and well, and a mute achknowledgement of our mortality. to have met and known, is that not something precious and to be treasured, for who knows when we will meet again?
>
> i have talked enough by now, if not too much, so let me end here. i hope that this finds you all happy and well, and i hope to be able to hear from you soon.
>
> and in case you were wondering what potatoes had to do with all this, well, i still have a basket of potatoes left and i was planning to have baked potato tomorrow.
i don't really remember what picnic we had. i am terrible in that way, in that i forget things quite easily. oh wait, actually, itx starting to come back some. i think it was a picnic at sentosa that i had with gary, crystal, lynn and her bf i think. and for some reason, lynn went swimming in the sea and there was a bottle of red in there somewhere i think. hmmm. i am sure that happened, but not sure if it was the picnic i was writing about. i remember the sun was going down and hmmm, crystal's sunglasses or something. did she break them. lol. too long ago.
well, it was quite strange reading the stuff i wrote. itx like reading a familiar stranger's writings, not quite alien but then, not quite your own. i think i wouldn't say "gay" anymore and probably tone some things down too. but i really like "Wu Song Kicks the Crap Out of Some Tiger." that is vintage me. ^^ oh even then, i already liked running. cool. :p
Friday 24 August 2007
post 27. cherri comes to visit.
hehe. awesome.
cherri stopped by from brisbane to visit. poor girl was delayed for 24 hours before finally arriving in perth. lol. the fog i had some so much fun running in actually meant that planes couldn't land.
oh well. at least she had the grand tour of australia's major cities. ^^
so here i am, taking care of cherri in perth. :P
awesome. more taking care of cherri at my place. ^^
oh la la. bedroom. ahem. yep. i take good care of cherri. poor mel hon on my right, the innocent bystander sucked up in my nefarious plans.
betrayed! being hauled off in cuffs for taking too much care of cherri. >_< 
in all seriousness, thanks for dropping by, cherri. party wouldn't have been the same without you. too bad we didn't get to talk more. the-reason-for-my-need-to-drink-to-sleep was at the party. did u know? ^^. bet you couldn't tell. hehehe. my life is so dramady. ^^
till next time i guess. perth or brisbane. who knows? ^^
cherri stopped by from brisbane to visit. poor girl was delayed for 24 hours before finally arriving in perth. lol. the fog i had some so much fun running in actually meant that planes couldn't land.
oh well. at least she had the grand tour of australia's major cities. ^^
so here i am, taking care of cherri in perth. :P
awesome. more taking care of cherri at my place. ^^
oh la la. bedroom. ahem. yep. i take good care of cherri. poor mel hon on my right, the innocent bystander sucked up in my nefarious plans.
betrayed! being hauled off in cuffs for taking too much care of cherri. >_< 
the infamous cuffs that were clapped on my wrists. everyone is so fascinated by them. they're just cuffs.
in all seriousness, thanks for dropping by, cherri. party wouldn't have been the same without you. too bad we didn't get to talk more. the-reason-for-my-need-to-drink-to-sleep was at the party. did u know? ^^. bet you couldn't tell. hehehe. my life is so dramady. ^^
till next time i guess. perth or brisbane. who knows? ^^
Monday 20 August 2007
post 26. The Cat Meets More Friends.
The Cat was traveling east on the way to the Beach of Silvery Surf to collect some sand for a friend.
The sun was high in the sky and merrily blazing away. It was very hot, and the Cat dearly wished that hanging the tongue out like some Dogs do helped. But it was to no avail. Maybe, Dogs just have bigger tongues or thinner coats. The sun happily continued blazing away, heedless of the Cat's fist being angrily shaken at it.
The Cat was therefore very surprised to see a small raincloud hanging by the side of the road. There were no other clouds in the otherwise clear sky. What was even more surprising was that the raincloud seemed to be floating above one spot only and not moving, and a miniature storm seemed to be pouring from it. The Cat could see torrents of rain lashing down and even occasionally, tiny bolts of lightning.
Unable to resist the mystery, the Cat walked closer to the raincloud. Cats, as we all know, are curious creatures; sometimes, too curious for their own good. Many Cats have gotten into unpleasant situations from being too inquisitive, and that is where the saying, "Curiousity killed the Cat" came from.
When the Cat got closer, the Cat could see that there was a figure sitting under the thundercloud. Curiousier and curiousier, the Cat thought and proceeded to sneak up very, very carefully to the figure.
It was a Panda.
And the Panda was crying very badly.
Feeling somewhat sorry for the Panda, the Cat decided to find out what was wrong.
"Hello." The Cat waved at the Panda.
The Panda turned a bleary face to the Cat. Tears were pouring down in continuous streams and huge goblets of snot were dribbling down and hitting the sodden ground like ponderous cannon balls. It was a horrific sight.
The Panda tried to reply, choked, tried again, and finally settled for a forlorn little wave. Rain was turning the patch of ground the Panda was sitting on into a little mud pool.
"Hello. I'm Cat. Is there anything I can do to help?"
No reply. Just a sad little shake of the round head. A tiny bolt of lightning arced down, struck the Panda's ears, and proceeded to dance madly between them before fizzling out.
"I'm traveling east to the Beach of Silvery Surf. Would you like to hear why?"
No reply again. Just a little shrug of the shoulders, as if the Panda could not really care if the Cat stayed or went.
So the Cat sat down and proceeded to tell the Panda the reason for traveling to the Beach of Silvery Surf. It was a somewhat sad story, which was the reason the Cat choose it, for sometimes hearing about others in similar situations can make one feel slightly better.
At the end of the story, the Panda was not crying as hard as before, although there were still occasional bouts of sniffles and tearing. The Cat also observed that the rain cloud was not storming as hard as before, and the lightning seemed to have stopped.
Seeing that the Panda seemed to be feeling somewhat better, the Cat decided to find out why the Panda was feeling so sad. "Would you like to tell me why you are crying?"
After some hem-ing and haw-ing on the part of the Panda, and considerable persuasion on the part of the Cat, the Panda finally told the reason why it was feeling so sad.
The Panda was in love with a boy. But the Panda was not sure if the boy felt the same way. And the Panda was afraid to tell the boy because the Panda had been hurt before by other boys. Sometimes, the Panda thinks the boy feels the same way, and sometimes the boy seemed indifferent. Unsure of the outcome, and afraid of being hurt again, the Panda decided to give up all hope on being with the boy. But not being with the boy was very painful, and that was why the Panda was sitting there crying under a raincloud, which at this point had stopped storming and was just raining steadily.
"You're being very silly," the Cat said when the Panda finished its story. "You're scared of being hurt so you decide not to tell the boy how you feel. But not being with the boy is so painful now, you're sitting here letting rain pour on your head. If I were you, I would tell the boy how I feel. Who knows? The boy may like you too, but is just as scared of being hurt as you. And if you tell him, you two may end up very happy together. If the boy doesn't like you, at least you wouldn't be feeling worse than you are now. But even if you do end up feeling worse than now, you would have a better reason for that than being too afraid to tell. At least you gave it a chance. And you know what, that is the most important thing of all: that you gave it a chance and didn't let it slip away."
The Panda was silent but finally gave a little nod to indicate acknowledgment.
Seeing that there was nothing more to be done, the Cat said goodbye to the Panda and left. When the Cat turned to wave goodbye, the mini raincloud seemed to be breaking up and dispersing, and most surprising of all, a tiny sun seemed to be coming out from behind the receding storm heads.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the conversation with the Panda, the Cat was feeling a little tired and decided to find a place to nap awhile.
The Cat was quite annoyed therefore, when a stunningly handsome Peacock suddenly flew out of the sky and landed on the road in front.
"Hello," said the Peacock, preening hurriedly some ruffled feathers. "Are you the Cat who talked to the Handkerchief under the tree?"
"Yes, I am Cat."
"Handkerchief said you could give me some advise." The Peacock continued preening, even though it seemed to the Cat that all the feathers were in place already and shining brightly with gloss.
The Cat sighed quietly. If I were indeed that clever, the Cat thought, I wouldn't be feeling the way I do now. Still, a request for help cannot be ignored. "Let's take a seat under that tree," the Cat pointed at a sprawling oak.
When they were both comfortably seated, the Cat turned towards the Peacock, who was now practicing furling and unfurling the beautiful fan of tail feathers. "What can I do for you?" the Cat asked.
"Handkerchief said you give good advise." The Cat was secretly amused by how intent the Peacock was on furling the fan of tail feathers.
"Sometimes hearing another person's point of view can help. I wouldn't say I give good advise. What may work for me may not work for you. Everyone is different. All I can do is show you another point of view."
"Hmmmph." The Peacock was now lifting one claw at a time, intently examining for any scratches or defects. "Well, anyway, I need some help."
"I'm all ears."
"I need the same advise you gave Handkerchief. You know, relationships stuff."
"What do you mean? A handsome fellow should have no problems with the ladies." The Cat couldn't resist poking a little jibe at the Peacock.
"I can't keep a serious relationship. Oh, I get lots of girls and all that, but it's all just very casual and fun, you know? But after a while, it gets tiring. And I would like to try for something more meaningful, rather than just having someone nice to go out and look good with. Someone to talk to and actually get something back, and not feel they are with you just because we look good together."
"Like I said, I don't see the problem here."
"Hmmmpf," the Peacock made a little noise in the back of the throat. "The nice girls, well, the ones who I want to go out with anyway, don't seem to be interested in me." The Peacock said that with a vague air of embarrassment, as if surprised that there are people who can resist the Peacock's stunning good looks.
"Peacock, you are a handsome fellow. No, I'm not saying that to make you feel better. A fact is a fact. However, when I look at you, I see someone who is screaming, 'Look at me! Look at me! Look how handsome I am!' And the nice girls can sense that, and they don't want to be with someone who pays more attention to himself than to them. I don't think anybody really wants that."
"But I can't help the way I look!"
"No, no, of course not. But rather than trying to show off your natural good looks, how about trying to find your beauty in their eyes. Rather than thinking, 'Look at me! I'm handsome, be with me!, try thinking this: 'I'm handsome only because of the way you look at me.' "
"What? That doesn't make much sense!"
"No? I'm sorry I can't be more clear."
With an affronted snort, the handsome Peacock flew off in a thundering of beating wings.
The Cat felt weary but knowing that sleep would not help, continued eastwards.
Small round hills started appearing, gently folding the landscape, and the trees, which had been constant companions throughout the journey, slowly faded away to be replaced by fields of green grass. The grass was lush and waved slowly in the breeze like sleepy, bobbing little heads, and as the Cat journeyed on, the fields grew and grew until it seemed the Cat was walking amongst a giant green sea of strange sea plants.
And a few days later, there was a sound that made the Cat's ears prick up, and cause the Cat to pause a while, one paw lifted off the ground. And then, the Cat was suddenly running, running like a madman through the sea of grass.
Over the hills, there was the gentle roar of the sea.
The sun was high in the sky and merrily blazing away. It was very hot, and the Cat dearly wished that hanging the tongue out like some Dogs do helped. But it was to no avail. Maybe, Dogs just have bigger tongues or thinner coats. The sun happily continued blazing away, heedless of the Cat's fist being angrily shaken at it.
The Cat was therefore very surprised to see a small raincloud hanging by the side of the road. There were no other clouds in the otherwise clear sky. What was even more surprising was that the raincloud seemed to be floating above one spot only and not moving, and a miniature storm seemed to be pouring from it. The Cat could see torrents of rain lashing down and even occasionally, tiny bolts of lightning.
Unable to resist the mystery, the Cat walked closer to the raincloud. Cats, as we all know, are curious creatures; sometimes, too curious for their own good. Many Cats have gotten into unpleasant situations from being too inquisitive, and that is where the saying, "Curiousity killed the Cat" came from.
When the Cat got closer, the Cat could see that there was a figure sitting under the thundercloud. Curiousier and curiousier, the Cat thought and proceeded to sneak up very, very carefully to the figure.
It was a Panda.
And the Panda was crying very badly.
Feeling somewhat sorry for the Panda, the Cat decided to find out what was wrong.
"Hello." The Cat waved at the Panda.
The Panda turned a bleary face to the Cat. Tears were pouring down in continuous streams and huge goblets of snot were dribbling down and hitting the sodden ground like ponderous cannon balls. It was a horrific sight.
The Panda tried to reply, choked, tried again, and finally settled for a forlorn little wave. Rain was turning the patch of ground the Panda was sitting on into a little mud pool.
"Hello. I'm Cat. Is there anything I can do to help?"
No reply. Just a sad little shake of the round head. A tiny bolt of lightning arced down, struck the Panda's ears, and proceeded to dance madly between them before fizzling out.
"I'm traveling east to the Beach of Silvery Surf. Would you like to hear why?"
No reply again. Just a little shrug of the shoulders, as if the Panda could not really care if the Cat stayed or went.
So the Cat sat down and proceeded to tell the Panda the reason for traveling to the Beach of Silvery Surf. It was a somewhat sad story, which was the reason the Cat choose it, for sometimes hearing about others in similar situations can make one feel slightly better.
At the end of the story, the Panda was not crying as hard as before, although there were still occasional bouts of sniffles and tearing. The Cat also observed that the rain cloud was not storming as hard as before, and the lightning seemed to have stopped.
Seeing that the Panda seemed to be feeling somewhat better, the Cat decided to find out why the Panda was feeling so sad. "Would you like to tell me why you are crying?"
After some hem-ing and haw-ing on the part of the Panda, and considerable persuasion on the part of the Cat, the Panda finally told the reason why it was feeling so sad.
The Panda was in love with a boy. But the Panda was not sure if the boy felt the same way. And the Panda was afraid to tell the boy because the Panda had been hurt before by other boys. Sometimes, the Panda thinks the boy feels the same way, and sometimes the boy seemed indifferent. Unsure of the outcome, and afraid of being hurt again, the Panda decided to give up all hope on being with the boy. But not being with the boy was very painful, and that was why the Panda was sitting there crying under a raincloud, which at this point had stopped storming and was just raining steadily.
"You're being very silly," the Cat said when the Panda finished its story. "You're scared of being hurt so you decide not to tell the boy how you feel. But not being with the boy is so painful now, you're sitting here letting rain pour on your head. If I were you, I would tell the boy how I feel. Who knows? The boy may like you too, but is just as scared of being hurt as you. And if you tell him, you two may end up very happy together. If the boy doesn't like you, at least you wouldn't be feeling worse than you are now. But even if you do end up feeling worse than now, you would have a better reason for that than being too afraid to tell. At least you gave it a chance. And you know what, that is the most important thing of all: that you gave it a chance and didn't let it slip away."
The Panda was silent but finally gave a little nod to indicate acknowledgment.
Seeing that there was nothing more to be done, the Cat said goodbye to the Panda and left. When the Cat turned to wave goodbye, the mini raincloud seemed to be breaking up and dispersing, and most surprising of all, a tiny sun seemed to be coming out from behind the receding storm heads.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After the conversation with the Panda, the Cat was feeling a little tired and decided to find a place to nap awhile.
The Cat was quite annoyed therefore, when a stunningly handsome Peacock suddenly flew out of the sky and landed on the road in front.
"Hello," said the Peacock, preening hurriedly some ruffled feathers. "Are you the Cat who talked to the Handkerchief under the tree?"
"Yes, I am Cat."
"Handkerchief said you could give me some advise." The Peacock continued preening, even though it seemed to the Cat that all the feathers were in place already and shining brightly with gloss.
The Cat sighed quietly. If I were indeed that clever, the Cat thought, I wouldn't be feeling the way I do now. Still, a request for help cannot be ignored. "Let's take a seat under that tree," the Cat pointed at a sprawling oak.
When they were both comfortably seated, the Cat turned towards the Peacock, who was now practicing furling and unfurling the beautiful fan of tail feathers. "What can I do for you?" the Cat asked.
"Handkerchief said you give good advise." The Cat was secretly amused by how intent the Peacock was on furling the fan of tail feathers.
"Sometimes hearing another person's point of view can help. I wouldn't say I give good advise. What may work for me may not work for you. Everyone is different. All I can do is show you another point of view."
"Hmmmph." The Peacock was now lifting one claw at a time, intently examining for any scratches or defects. "Well, anyway, I need some help."
"I'm all ears."
"I need the same advise you gave Handkerchief. You know, relationships stuff."
"What do you mean? A handsome fellow should have no problems with the ladies." The Cat couldn't resist poking a little jibe at the Peacock.
"I can't keep a serious relationship. Oh, I get lots of girls and all that, but it's all just very casual and fun, you know? But after a while, it gets tiring. And I would like to try for something more meaningful, rather than just having someone nice to go out and look good with. Someone to talk to and actually get something back, and not feel they are with you just because we look good together."
"Like I said, I don't see the problem here."
"Hmmmpf," the Peacock made a little noise in the back of the throat. "The nice girls, well, the ones who I want to go out with anyway, don't seem to be interested in me." The Peacock said that with a vague air of embarrassment, as if surprised that there are people who can resist the Peacock's stunning good looks.
"Peacock, you are a handsome fellow. No, I'm not saying that to make you feel better. A fact is a fact. However, when I look at you, I see someone who is screaming, 'Look at me! Look at me! Look how handsome I am!' And the nice girls can sense that, and they don't want to be with someone who pays more attention to himself than to them. I don't think anybody really wants that."
"But I can't help the way I look!"
"No, no, of course not. But rather than trying to show off your natural good looks, how about trying to find your beauty in their eyes. Rather than thinking, 'Look at me! I'm handsome, be with me!, try thinking this: 'I'm handsome only because of the way you look at me.' "
"What? That doesn't make much sense!"
"No? I'm sorry I can't be more clear."
With an affronted snort, the handsome Peacock flew off in a thundering of beating wings.
The Cat felt weary but knowing that sleep would not help, continued eastwards.
Small round hills started appearing, gently folding the landscape, and the trees, which had been constant companions throughout the journey, slowly faded away to be replaced by fields of green grass. The grass was lush and waved slowly in the breeze like sleepy, bobbing little heads, and as the Cat journeyed on, the fields grew and grew until it seemed the Cat was walking amongst a giant green sea of strange sea plants.
And a few days later, there was a sound that made the Cat's ears prick up, and cause the Cat to pause a while, one paw lifted off the ground. And then, the Cat was suddenly running, running like a madman through the sea of grass.
Over the hills, there was the gentle roar of the sea.
currently reading
The Art of Living and Other Stories, John Gardner (1974)
In the Heart of the Heart of the Country, William H. Gass (1958)
The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan (1989)
seemed to be turning into quite a fan of ms tan. lol. she makes me feel so chinese. interestingly, didn't know she had lyme disease till yesterday, which is basically a neurological disorder that messes with your memory and motor skills. and seeing how physio course has been dealing so much with neurology so much these past 2 years, can understand how hard it is for someone to not be able to walk properly or walk around neighbourhood without getting lost. really really understand what she means when she talked about frantically trying to get words down on good days before she lost it again.
hmmm. been reading too much. must try to get some studying done. ^^ oh well, i was very sad then. but have not read so much for a very long time.
In the Heart of the Heart of the Country, William H. Gass (1958)
The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan (1989)
seemed to be turning into quite a fan of ms tan. lol. she makes me feel so chinese. interestingly, didn't know she had lyme disease till yesterday, which is basically a neurological disorder that messes with your memory and motor skills. and seeing how physio course has been dealing so much with neurology so much these past 2 years, can understand how hard it is for someone to not be able to walk properly or walk around neighbourhood without getting lost. really really understand what she means when she talked about frantically trying to get words down on good days before she lost it again.
hmmm. been reading too much. must try to get some studying done. ^^ oh well, i was very sad then. but have not read so much for a very long time.
Sunday 19 August 2007
post 25. near my house
this is taken just behind my apartment, along a dingy alleyway flanked by run down buildings. find beautiful things in the strangest places.
saw a tree all aflame in red, and thought of my ex. we took pictures of this kind of tree before but we were living elsewhere. strange that i would be living at a place again where this tree grows.
Friday 17 August 2007
post 24. hahaha
^^.
hey, no more sad writings. that's a good thing. lol.
looking back at some of the stuff written, hah, think maybe should frantically click click delete. but, hah, nah, it was worth that at least. dangers of blogging: indulge and divulge too much. lol.
hey, no more sad writings. that's a good thing. lol.
looking back at some of the stuff written, hah, think maybe should frantically click click delete. but, hah, nah, it was worth that at least. dangers of blogging: indulge and divulge too much. lol.
Thursday 16 August 2007
post 23. where would i be without corkers?
morning: 1 x VB (4.9%, 1.4 standard drink)
lunch: 1 x XXXX(3.5%, 1 standard drink) - simon was so uncomfortable drinking beer in a chinese restaurant. lol. i told him it said BYO on the door and that means i can drink whatever i want, damnit. good point though. only construction workers drink in the afternoon back home.
afternoon: 1 x tooheys platinum (6.5%, 1.8 sd)
dinner/night: not sure yet but going out for drinks. and even so, i still have reserves of VB at home. probably need at least 2 cans to sleep.
lol. logically, this is funny. and even quite pathetic. really. in a few weeks, months, or even days, i may laugh at this.
but right now, i can't laugh at myself yet.
lol. drinking before class. imagine. a can of beer in the morning. i must be going native. ^^
lunch: 1 x XXXX(3.5%, 1 standard drink) - simon was so uncomfortable drinking beer in a chinese restaurant. lol. i told him it said BYO on the door and that means i can drink whatever i want, damnit. good point though. only construction workers drink in the afternoon back home.
afternoon: 1 x tooheys platinum (6.5%, 1.8 sd)
dinner/night: not sure yet but going out for drinks. and even so, i still have reserves of VB at home. probably need at least 2 cans to sleep.
lol. logically, this is funny. and even quite pathetic. really. in a few weeks, months, or even days, i may laugh at this.
but right now, i can't laugh at myself yet.
lol. drinking before class. imagine. a can of beer in the morning. i must be going native. ^^
Tuesday 14 August 2007
currently reading
A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain, Robert Olen Butler (1992)
The Red Badge of Courage, Stephen Crane (1962)
The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan (1997)
they should group books according to what kind of emotions they evoke rather than by authours. would make more sense, don't you think?
was trying to find a humourous book, or something silly to lighten my mood. lol. kept picking up serious, ponderous books that dealt with important issues of the human condition. is it too much to ask for a book with the words "tragic comedy" in the title to be at least funny? or at least, not the black and bitter variety? tragic comedy should be harmless, like watching a lovable clown slip and fall so u can laugh with him.
wait. need to express something here.
fuck.
there we go.
A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain, a collection of short stories i think. have no idea what itx about. just picked it up because. only read the first story, "Open arms". very poignant. drew me in so was able to forget awhile, but why must it be so fucking sad? don't really need sad now u know.
lol.
me and my heartlessness. where did it all go to.
The Red Badge of Courage, Stephen Crane (1962)
The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan (1997)
they should group books according to what kind of emotions they evoke rather than by authours. would make more sense, don't you think?
was trying to find a humourous book, or something silly to lighten my mood. lol. kept picking up serious, ponderous books that dealt with important issues of the human condition. is it too much to ask for a book with the words "tragic comedy" in the title to be at least funny? or at least, not the black and bitter variety? tragic comedy should be harmless, like watching a lovable clown slip and fall so u can laugh with him.
wait. need to express something here.
fuck.
there we go.
A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain, a collection of short stories i think. have no idea what itx about. just picked it up because. only read the first story, "Open arms". very poignant. drew me in so was able to forget awhile, but why must it be so fucking sad? don't really need sad now u know.
lol.
me and my heartlessness. where did it all go to.
blind
note to self:
look before you jump next time, blind cat. lol.
good thing there's always VB and physical exhaustion.
look before you jump next time, blind cat. lol.
good thing there's always VB and physical exhaustion.
Sunday 12 August 2007
post 22. music
some random videos.
a girl doing a cover of "goodbye my lover" on acoustic guitar.
duet between violin and turntable. who would have thought?
a girl doing a cover of "goodbye my lover" on acoustic guitar.
duet between violin and turntable. who would have thought?
Thursday 9 August 2007
currently reading
Regiment of Women, Thomas Berger (1975)
The Beauty of Men, Andrew Holleran (1996)
added 11 august 2007
this is how i usually choose a book to read. flip open to first page, scan it, and if it interests me in some way, i may then flip open to another section of the book and read more, and if i'm still interested i borrow it. i seldom buy books anymore, though i used to dearly love them. most of them are single-serve friends these days, and i hardly ever go back for seconds.
when i borrowed the Regiment of Women, i thought it was about transvestites. the opening page described a man waking up, except he has breasts and was dressed in women's undergarments. that was enough for me. didn't even flip through the rest of the book.
no, i didn't borrow it out of a sense of the perverse or deviant sexual hmmm, tendencies. i don't find that kind of thing stimulating. in fact, the opening page went on to describe how the man almost had a nervous breakdown after looking at himself in the mirror because he realised he was growing older. thatx what hooked me. that insight into raw human emotions.
but i was wrong. itx not about transvestites. itx about a society in the future where women are in charge and men are subversive; women dressed in shirts and trousers and men wore dresses. it was quite jarring to read, especially about women with moustaches. lol.
strangely enough, the story was interesting enough and i only switched between it and The Beauty of Men once. finished the book in one sitting in one night, even though it made some presumptions in the end that seemed a bit too clinche. personal bias here. finding it hard to swallow assumptions without researched information these days.
but like i said, couldn't put it down.
The Beauty of Men. ahh. quoting from the back cover, itx "a universal tale of loneliness, ageing (sic) and the feverish desires of the human heart"; itx a simple story about a man named Lark and his desire for his neighbour named Becker.
still reading it, but it has some beautiful parts that are i can empathise with. think i would just quote two passages from it. hmmm. shouldn't be violating any copyright laws here i hope.
' ("Are you there?" his mother said once while a friend from Los Angeles was on the phone, heartbroken after a man twelve years younger had said he just wanted to be friends. "Yes, I'm here," he said to her, at which point his friend had sighed into the phone, "I want to say those words to someone.")'
the other one describes how Lark would drive pass Becker's house every night without Becker's knowledge because that is the only contact he has with Becker. he does this late at night because Becker has refused to meet him again after their single encounter and seemed to be keeping a distance from him. Lark feels foolish, and tries to self-rationalise that he drives by Becker's house because it is a shorter route home, but deep down he knows he does this only to be closer to Becker.
"Still, when Lark sees the lighted panels on either side of the door, or the central window with the swatch of blue wall and the thin white curtain blowing in the breeze, when he drives past at night, something floods his heart and he says out loud in wonder, amazement, gratitude, and despair, "I love him! I love him!"- amazed more than anything by the durability, the persistence of the emotion."
hmmm. if itx still not clear, the story is about homosexual men. and yes, i did intentionally pick it.
itx quite sad really. it prints a bleak picture of isolation and death, dealing as it does with AIDS and the impact it has on their lives. brought home a point about how lonely gay men are. if heterosexual people already feel lonely and unloved, imagine how much harder it must be for homosexuals who have to deal with ostracism and hatred, while trying to find love at the same time. imagine the depth of loneliness and despair that drives one such young man to kill himself because he was sure he would never find love or someone he can spend the rest of his life with.
and that is such a sad thing.
The Beauty of Men, Andrew Holleran (1996)
added 11 august 2007
this is how i usually choose a book to read. flip open to first page, scan it, and if it interests me in some way, i may then flip open to another section of the book and read more, and if i'm still interested i borrow it. i seldom buy books anymore, though i used to dearly love them. most of them are single-serve friends these days, and i hardly ever go back for seconds.
when i borrowed the Regiment of Women, i thought it was about transvestites. the opening page described a man waking up, except he has breasts and was dressed in women's undergarments. that was enough for me. didn't even flip through the rest of the book.
no, i didn't borrow it out of a sense of the perverse or deviant sexual hmmm, tendencies. i don't find that kind of thing stimulating. in fact, the opening page went on to describe how the man almost had a nervous breakdown after looking at himself in the mirror because he realised he was growing older. thatx what hooked me. that insight into raw human emotions.
but i was wrong. itx not about transvestites. itx about a society in the future where women are in charge and men are subversive; women dressed in shirts and trousers and men wore dresses. it was quite jarring to read, especially about women with moustaches. lol.
strangely enough, the story was interesting enough and i only switched between it and The Beauty of Men once. finished the book in one sitting in one night, even though it made some presumptions in the end that seemed a bit too clinche. personal bias here. finding it hard to swallow assumptions without researched information these days.
but like i said, couldn't put it down.
The Beauty of Men. ahh. quoting from the back cover, itx "a universal tale of loneliness, ageing (sic) and the feverish desires of the human heart"; itx a simple story about a man named Lark and his desire for his neighbour named Becker.
still reading it, but it has some beautiful parts that are i can empathise with. think i would just quote two passages from it. hmmm. shouldn't be violating any copyright laws here i hope.
' ("Are you there?" his mother said once while a friend from Los Angeles was on the phone, heartbroken after a man twelve years younger had said he just wanted to be friends. "Yes, I'm here," he said to her, at which point his friend had sighed into the phone, "I want to say those words to someone.")'
the other one describes how Lark would drive pass Becker's house every night without Becker's knowledge because that is the only contact he has with Becker. he does this late at night because Becker has refused to meet him again after their single encounter and seemed to be keeping a distance from him. Lark feels foolish, and tries to self-rationalise that he drives by Becker's house because it is a shorter route home, but deep down he knows he does this only to be closer to Becker.
"Still, when Lark sees the lighted panels on either side of the door, or the central window with the swatch of blue wall and the thin white curtain blowing in the breeze, when he drives past at night, something floods his heart and he says out loud in wonder, amazement, gratitude, and despair, "I love him! I love him!"- amazed more than anything by the durability, the persistence of the emotion."
hmmm. if itx still not clear, the story is about homosexual men. and yes, i did intentionally pick it.
itx quite sad really. it prints a bleak picture of isolation and death, dealing as it does with AIDS and the impact it has on their lives. brought home a point about how lonely gay men are. if heterosexual people already feel lonely and unloved, imagine how much harder it must be for homosexuals who have to deal with ostracism and hatred, while trying to find love at the same time. imagine the depth of loneliness and despair that drives one such young man to kill himself because he was sure he would never find love or someone he can spend the rest of his life with.
and that is such a sad thing.
Wednesday 8 August 2007
karma police
note to self:
remember this date 8/8/2007. what goes around comes around. remember this feeling.
remember this date 8/8/2007. what goes around comes around. remember this feeling.
post 21. The Cat Goes On a Journey, or The Cat Meets a New Friend
One winter day, the Cat went on a journey. The Cat had heard of a Beach of Silvery Surf far to the east of which it was said that the sand from that beach can bring about untold happiness. And there was someone the Cat would like to give the sand to.
So after packing a few changes of clothes, the Cat set off to the east. The Cat left very early in the morning when the sun had yet to rise over the horizon, and there was no one on the road as the Cat left home. This may sound strange, but the Cat was glad to meet no one, which is really odd as most everyone likes to have friends and family to wave goodbye to when they leave. But the Cat was feeling bit sad and heavy at heart and was glad to be alone. Also cats are secretive,solitary creatures, used to coming and going alone.
The day was cool and the Cat made good progress. Gradually, the Cat felt better as more distance was traveled and the Cat's heart slowly felt lighter. It was almost as if the Cat's mood coincided with the rising of the sun, for the higher the sun rose in the sky, the better the Cat felt. Now, this may seem strange to some of you, especially those who have never left home, for who would feel happy leaving home behind and traveling to strange places? But sometimes, when a place is associated with unhappy memories, traveling to new places can make you feel better.
By afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and it was becoming hot work walking. The Cat was glad to see a tree by the side of the road, and decided to take a rest there.
The Cat gratefully sat under the tree. From where the Cat was sitting, the Cat could see that there was no one around. So imagine the Cat's surprise when a voice started speaking out of thin air!
"Ouch! Excuse me!" The voice sounded as if the owner was highly offended.
The Cat sprang up and looked around. Was there someone hiding behind the tree? The Cat went around but there was no one there. The voice seemed to have disappeared, so the Cat returned to the original spot and sat down again.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" The voice had returned! And it sounded even more indignant than before.
The Cat was mightily puzzled. The Cat could see no one around but there was a voice speaking out of thin air! Maybe the heat is making me hear things, the Cat thought. The best thing to do would be to ignore these silly imaginings and to get as much rest as possible. So the Cat threw back on the ground in a big lazy flop, intending to get a small nap.
"EXCUSE ME?" The voice was very loud and very close, and it sounded like the owner was almost shouting in the Cat's ear. "Can you watch where you put your big, fat feet?"
Oh. The Cat looked down. There was a lace-white handkerchief laying on the ground and the Cat was stepping square on top of it.
The Cat bent down and picked the handkerchief up from the ground. If handkerchiefs could ever be said to have expressions, the Cat would have said that there was a certain indignant smugness to the lace-white handkerchief. Feeling a bit silly, the Cat spoke to the handkerchief.
"Are you the voice talking to me?"
There was no reply. If anything, the handkerchief seemed to become even more smug.
"Hello?" Feeling even more silly, the Cat gave the handkerchief a small, forlorn shake.
"Brrrr! Please stop shaking me! First, I get stepped on by a blind, clumsy animal and now I am shaken around like a broken doll! What a way to start the day!"
"But handkerchiefs don't talk!"
"And cats do?" The handkerchief seemed almost to burst with self-satisfaction as it said that.
So of course, the Cat had to apologise to the Handkerchief for it was very wrong to assume that someone could not do the same things you could just because they looked different from you, and you must never, ever do that. The Cat was so effusive with the apologies the Handkerchief became embarrassed and quickly forgave the Cat.
The Cat was very curious about the Handkerchief, for it was the first time the Cat had met a talking non-animal. The Cat was also most curious about the pristine whiteness of the Handkerchief, for the Handkerchief was still as white as snow, despite laying on the ground and being stepped on.
"How do you keep yourself so white, Handkerchief? For you are the cleanest Handkerchief I have ever met!"
The Handkerchief fairly glowed with pride. "The secret to staying clean is to never give your heart to anyone!"
"Never give your heart to anyone?"
"Yes! Never give your heart to anyone! I have a friend. Here, look at this picture! Isn't she the prettiest Handkerchief you ever saw? She had the nicest lace, with the prettiest frills, and she used to be as clean as me. But she fell in love, and her heart was broken and she became all stained and tattered. She was not clean anymore! Never give your heart to anyone!"
"But how did she become so different from you?"
"Hah! When she was happily in love, she laughed and there were creases. When she was so happy she became dizzy, she smiled to herself and blushed and there were stains. And when things turned bad, her laughter became tears and there were more stains. And to hide the stains, she rubbed at herself and the stains became tatters. Now, she is just a tattered, old thing! Not that for me!"
"But your friend, did she regret what she did?"
"Of course she did! She was not clean anymore! And she couldn't stop crying for months. Although now," and here, a note of doubt crept into the Handkerchief's voice, "now, I do not know. She is starting to smile and laugh and becoming her old self again. And what is even stranger, she seems to remember those times with some fondness!"
"My dear Handkerchief, can we look at that picture again? Shall we take a closer look at your friend? Look. Don't you think that those stains, which you think so ugly, add colour and brightness to her? Here. That shade of bluish-gray, the very colour of heartache. It seems very sad and depressing, doesn't it? But it's balanced by this vivid splash of colour here! Look, how it grows and blossoms! Look how it shines and glows, like the twinkling of the sun on the surface of a lake, like the glow of paper lanterns thrown off the fluttering wings of moths in the night? Wouldn't you say that she was content and happy more than she was sad?"
"Yes, you can say so, if you want. Yes."
"And those creases and tatters, which are so distasteful and hideous to you. Look at this bunch of lines here. Don't you wonder what he did to make her smile and laugh so? The emotions she felt, the happiness that swept her up? Of course, there was sadness. Here are the tatters you mentioned. Great, big gaping holes, some of them. But look at her! They do not make her ugly at all. I think your friend looks more beautiful than before she fell in love."
The Handkerchief was silent awhile.
"But she's not clean anymore!" the Handkerchief finally said plaintively.
"Yes, she is not."
And the Cat realised the Handkerchief would not understand the point anyway, and so they talked about other topics, for it was pointless to try to force someone to understand something if they did not want to.
They talked about many other things, and it was all very interesting, but it was finally time for the Cat to go, and the Cat waved goodbye to the Handkerchief and continued on the journey to the Beach of Silvery Surf.
So after packing a few changes of clothes, the Cat set off to the east. The Cat left very early in the morning when the sun had yet to rise over the horizon, and there was no one on the road as the Cat left home. This may sound strange, but the Cat was glad to meet no one, which is really odd as most everyone likes to have friends and family to wave goodbye to when they leave. But the Cat was feeling bit sad and heavy at heart and was glad to be alone. Also cats are secretive,solitary creatures, used to coming and going alone.
The day was cool and the Cat made good progress. Gradually, the Cat felt better as more distance was traveled and the Cat's heart slowly felt lighter. It was almost as if the Cat's mood coincided with the rising of the sun, for the higher the sun rose in the sky, the better the Cat felt. Now, this may seem strange to some of you, especially those who have never left home, for who would feel happy leaving home behind and traveling to strange places? But sometimes, when a place is associated with unhappy memories, traveling to new places can make you feel better.
By afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and it was becoming hot work walking. The Cat was glad to see a tree by the side of the road, and decided to take a rest there.
The Cat gratefully sat under the tree. From where the Cat was sitting, the Cat could see that there was no one around. So imagine the Cat's surprise when a voice started speaking out of thin air!
"Ouch! Excuse me!" The voice sounded as if the owner was highly offended.
The Cat sprang up and looked around. Was there someone hiding behind the tree? The Cat went around but there was no one there. The voice seemed to have disappeared, so the Cat returned to the original spot and sat down again.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" The voice had returned! And it sounded even more indignant than before.
The Cat was mightily puzzled. The Cat could see no one around but there was a voice speaking out of thin air! Maybe the heat is making me hear things, the Cat thought. The best thing to do would be to ignore these silly imaginings and to get as much rest as possible. So the Cat threw back on the ground in a big lazy flop, intending to get a small nap.
"EXCUSE ME?" The voice was very loud and very close, and it sounded like the owner was almost shouting in the Cat's ear. "Can you watch where you put your big, fat feet?"
Oh. The Cat looked down. There was a lace-white handkerchief laying on the ground and the Cat was stepping square on top of it.
The Cat bent down and picked the handkerchief up from the ground. If handkerchiefs could ever be said to have expressions, the Cat would have said that there was a certain indignant smugness to the lace-white handkerchief. Feeling a bit silly, the Cat spoke to the handkerchief.
"Are you the voice talking to me?"
There was no reply. If anything, the handkerchief seemed to become even more smug.
"Hello?" Feeling even more silly, the Cat gave the handkerchief a small, forlorn shake.
"Brrrr! Please stop shaking me! First, I get stepped on by a blind, clumsy animal and now I am shaken around like a broken doll! What a way to start the day!"
"But handkerchiefs don't talk!"
"And cats do?" The handkerchief seemed almost to burst with self-satisfaction as it said that.
So of course, the Cat had to apologise to the Handkerchief for it was very wrong to assume that someone could not do the same things you could just because they looked different from you, and you must never, ever do that. The Cat was so effusive with the apologies the Handkerchief became embarrassed and quickly forgave the Cat.
The Cat was very curious about the Handkerchief, for it was the first time the Cat had met a talking non-animal. The Cat was also most curious about the pristine whiteness of the Handkerchief, for the Handkerchief was still as white as snow, despite laying on the ground and being stepped on.
"How do you keep yourself so white, Handkerchief? For you are the cleanest Handkerchief I have ever met!"
The Handkerchief fairly glowed with pride. "The secret to staying clean is to never give your heart to anyone!"
"Never give your heart to anyone?"
"Yes! Never give your heart to anyone! I have a friend. Here, look at this picture! Isn't she the prettiest Handkerchief you ever saw? She had the nicest lace, with the prettiest frills, and she used to be as clean as me. But she fell in love, and her heart was broken and she became all stained and tattered. She was not clean anymore! Never give your heart to anyone!"
"But how did she become so different from you?"
"Hah! When she was happily in love, she laughed and there were creases. When she was so happy she became dizzy, she smiled to herself and blushed and there were stains. And when things turned bad, her laughter became tears and there were more stains. And to hide the stains, she rubbed at herself and the stains became tatters. Now, she is just a tattered, old thing! Not that for me!"
"But your friend, did she regret what she did?"
"Of course she did! She was not clean anymore! And she couldn't stop crying for months. Although now," and here, a note of doubt crept into the Handkerchief's voice, "now, I do not know. She is starting to smile and laugh and becoming her old self again. And what is even stranger, she seems to remember those times with some fondness!"
"My dear Handkerchief, can we look at that picture again? Shall we take a closer look at your friend? Look. Don't you think that those stains, which you think so ugly, add colour and brightness to her? Here. That shade of bluish-gray, the very colour of heartache. It seems very sad and depressing, doesn't it? But it's balanced by this vivid splash of colour here! Look, how it grows and blossoms! Look how it shines and glows, like the twinkling of the sun on the surface of a lake, like the glow of paper lanterns thrown off the fluttering wings of moths in the night? Wouldn't you say that she was content and happy more than she was sad?"
"Yes, you can say so, if you want. Yes."
"And those creases and tatters, which are so distasteful and hideous to you. Look at this bunch of lines here. Don't you wonder what he did to make her smile and laugh so? The emotions she felt, the happiness that swept her up? Of course, there was sadness. Here are the tatters you mentioned. Great, big gaping holes, some of them. But look at her! They do not make her ugly at all. I think your friend looks more beautiful than before she fell in love."
The Handkerchief was silent awhile.
"But she's not clean anymore!" the Handkerchief finally said plaintively.
"Yes, she is not."
And the Cat realised the Handkerchief would not understand the point anyway, and so they talked about other topics, for it was pointless to try to force someone to understand something if they did not want to.
They talked about many other things, and it was all very interesting, but it was finally time for the Cat to go, and the Cat waved goodbye to the Handkerchief and continued on the journey to the Beach of Silvery Surf.
post 20. disturbed sleep
note to self:
a broken, sweaty night of impossible dreams about unrealistic hopes. too vivid and depressing. try not to sleep on a full stomach again, even if from ciao italia, especially when feeling the way i am now.
ps. met so many ppl at ciao italia, itx eerie. tim, sarah, jasmine and danielle my epa lecturer. itx a first.
a broken, sweaty night of impossible dreams about unrealistic hopes. too vivid and depressing. try not to sleep on a full stomach again, even if from ciao italia, especially when feeling the way i am now.
ps. met so many ppl at ciao italia, itx eerie. tim, sarah, jasmine and danielle my epa lecturer. itx a first.
Monday 6 August 2007
post 19. a touch of home
those who know me know about my mixed feelings towards singapore, which i think is not uncommon amongst those who have lived abroad for a period of time. having spent what i think are my formative years abroad, sometimes i hard it find to think of singapore as home. if itx the ppl who make the place, there really is not much in singapore to keep me. so i am surprised to feel a little tug on the heartstrings when i saw these clips.
here is dick lee singing. if u r not singaporean/ speak dialect, this may not make much sense. ^^
hossan leong. hmmm. good song i think. really a concise history, with little slices of life thrown in as well.
so why should i feel anything when i saw these clips? itx just some effeminate guys singing funny songs. so why should it make me miss singapore, even if just a little? i guess you can't deny where you were born and raised. must have ate too much sg mud and soil as a kid.
other than that, the gov must have put something in the water other than the fluoride to keep ur teeth strong to stop ppl like me from running away. LOL. (hah. will this get censored? the reach of the PAP is long...:P)
ps. usual style. brisbane trip will be posted late even though i must say it was a BLAST! ^^. come on. look at the title. does the word "lazy" mean anything? ^^
here is dick lee singing. if u r not singaporean/ speak dialect, this may not make much sense. ^^
hossan leong. hmmm. good song i think. really a concise history, with little slices of life thrown in as well.
so why should i feel anything when i saw these clips? itx just some effeminate guys singing funny songs. so why should it make me miss singapore, even if just a little? i guess you can't deny where you were born and raised. must have ate too much sg mud and soil as a kid.
other than that, the gov must have put something in the water other than the fluoride to keep ur teeth strong to stop ppl like me from running away. LOL. (hah. will this get censored? the reach of the PAP is long...:P)
ps. usual style. brisbane trip will be posted late even though i must say it was a BLAST! ^^. come on. look at the title. does the word "lazy" mean anything? ^^
Friday 3 August 2007
post 18. jerry c canon rock
pachelbel canon on electric guitar by jerry c. a bit dated, but very awesome. get such a kick everytime i watch it.
story goes that he was inspired to do this after watching that korean movie, ummm, "my barbaric girlfriend"? lol. can't remember the title atm. oh yeah, "my sassy girlfriend". but i prefer "barbaric". ^^ supposedly they used the song during the movie but i can't remember what scene etc so yeah, take their word for it (they = some taiwanese news channel that interviwed the jerry c dude ^^).
thanks to kenneth wang for showing me the wonders of youtube^^
story goes that he was inspired to do this after watching that korean movie, ummm, "my barbaric girlfriend"? lol. can't remember the title atm. oh yeah, "my sassy girlfriend". but i prefer "barbaric". ^^ supposedly they used the song during the movie but i can't remember what scene etc so yeah, take their word for it (they = some taiwanese news channel that interviwed the jerry c dude ^^).
thanks to kenneth wang for showing me the wonders of youtube^^
Wednesday 1 August 2007
post 17. fog
another new experience today.
took skins out just to see how effective they are at preventing DOMs. really quite impressed with how fantastic they are really. kept me really warm too, even though weather was cold enough to fog breathe, and i was only in shirt and shorts with skins underneath.
when arrived at park, was greeted with a pleasant surprise. usual green field was gently covered by a soft bank of fog, with lights from surrounding houses dimmed into twinkling orbs. a veritable fairy land. was one of those times i wished i brought my camera-phone along.
was the thickest fog i ever ran in. gradually thickened as i ran until vision was again cut to less than ten paces ahead, similar to last night. had a bit of fun pretending it was london fog, although it was not as thick as pea soup. ^^
different experience from last night. everything seemed softer tonight. wouldn't go so far to say it was an enchanted night, but it was definately an experience.
took skins out just to see how effective they are at preventing DOMs. really quite impressed with how fantastic they are really. kept me really warm too, even though weather was cold enough to fog breathe, and i was only in shirt and shorts with skins underneath.
when arrived at park, was greeted with a pleasant surprise. usual green field was gently covered by a soft bank of fog, with lights from surrounding houses dimmed into twinkling orbs. a veritable fairy land. was one of those times i wished i brought my camera-phone along.
was the thickest fog i ever ran in. gradually thickened as i ran until vision was again cut to less than ten paces ahead, similar to last night. had a bit of fun pretending it was london fog, although it was not as thick as pea soup. ^^
different experience from last night. everything seemed softer tonight. wouldn't go so far to say it was an enchanted night, but it was definately an experience.
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