One More Reason

I found another new reason to live on today. Things come in an unexpected way all the time. I suppose this is what they refer to as a bolt from the blue. But I told myself some time ago that  I  will write down the reasons for living in a huge glass bottle every time there is one to be found and see how much of this empty jar I can fill up.

Truth be told... who knows what lies ahead? But then I never hear any one complaining even though I'm pretty sure that everyone around me is as baffled by the unknown and facing their own demons some where else in some other form. Yet there are moments to be cherished despite being badly wounded or being poisoned and when things still hurt badly... Do we call that being ambivalent?

Maybe I had studied too much business analytic and I can safely say that happiness and unhappiness are not mutually exclusive events... Neither are they tangible enough to be assessed in such a way that happiness has a probability p and hence unhappiness (1-p). They can never be discrete possibilities... Is it normal? I don't know for sure... I just know it is a spectrum~

A spectrum that I am carried away as I find my own voice and my own direction...

I thank someone who made me feel special today. Because you are the new additional reason to live on still... Simple words mean meaningless rumblings... But in this case... your words... though simple... were deeper to me than anything else... Thank you...

On another note... Love is blind~ I can never judge any more... who and who gets together or feel what is right and what is wrong. Because the truth to love is a feeling that transcends all... gender, age, feelings, status, race alike... 

To the dreamfields

Been having such bizarre dreams lately that it sort of makes me distracted during the day; during those moments when I am walking somewhere; during moments when I am just sitting on the toilet bowl on a constipation streak - Because I keep thinking back and trying to recall vague details and try to make sense out of things.

There are so many theories put forth to explain the science behind dreams. As much as I don't know the real reason why they exist I do subscribe more to the explanation that dreams are the manifestation of fragments of memories (both conscious and sub-conscious). This is why there may be people in your dreams that you feel that you have not seen before and that may not be so untrue. Why? Because... When we sleep our memories are just randomly jumbled together into a mesh-work. This means that it is possible that you dream about someone who is constructed from your memories of 20 different people and their features. Hence, this person may not exist at all.

The funny part about dreams I suppose is how realistic they are. It is just like an out of body experience, more realistic than any HD-TV can provide. You are the main character of the story or you are an observer either in your own body or through another person's eyes. Yet there is little you can do but go along with the story. But one thing scientists all believe and hold true: Dreams may be fantasies (or nightmares) but the emotions we feel are real. This is why scientist propose that dreaming is a response to coping with emotional release that one usually with-holds during the typical day. It helps the mind to release the emotions that are built-up so that one can manage stress and emotions more effectively in daily life.

I don't know what to believe really... Sometimes... what is logical is not always true. But those that are illogical turn out to be the ones that are true... No one knew the Earth was round in the past... and yet today we do not subscribe to that... why is that?

I have become an insomniac... floating from place to place like a ghost. I dare not approach others in fear of being a bane, because I'm not the only person that is having a bad life... everyone is? Just that people are not whining... That kind of internal strength and self-belief... I wish I had it... I remember a song:

"Nobody likes me; everybody hates me... so I'm gonna eat some worms~"

My silent prayer: Let the object of objection be but a dream and cause the scene to be unseen...

Personification of the art of pastry-making

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Baking is a skill that take years to perfect and strict discipline and patience to master. Unlike conventional cooking and frying the fun - as much as it is the nightmare - comes with the preparation of the batter/ mix that you would eventually place into an oven. Follow the recipe strictly and sometimes you still find that your cake or pastry comes out looking radically different the beautiful ones featured in the recipe you just tried to follow. Why's that?

First of all, the quantity of each ingredient is crucial. This is especially important for the making of a souffle which is a classic example of proportion that goes to the gram. Next there is a difference between the use of hand kneading and machine mixing. Even though using a mixer nowadays is the norm, using hands do have its advantages as the warmth in our hands help to speed up some of the processes in the kneading. Third, be sure to separate your eggs carefully and whisking your whites to perfection. Just a tiny bit of egg yolk and the fats in it will cause the consistency of your cake to go terribly wrong - imagine rock hard cakes instead of nice and airy ones.

Then comes the epic moment of placing it in the oven. Setting the correct temperature settings and then just sitting in front of the oven and watching our favourite 'oven-channel'. The moment of truth: when the timer rings and we open that oven door to see our own creations literally risen from the ashes. But more often than not that is not the case...

A lot of things in life are like baking. It is an art that is so difficult to perfect. Sometimes I try to emulate others but never seem to succeed in what others could. I laughed at myself for my own stupidity. Get impatient sometimes too... Ever opened an oven to see your cake before it is finished? It ruins the cake by the way: The cake will collapse or the sudden influx of cold air will cause your cake to become dense. 

Like I said baking is very different from conventional cooking. For conventional cooking, if something goes wrong you can add more salt/water/sugar. But for a cake it is so different. Whatever comes in will come out as it is. You cannot pour water over your completed piece if it is too dry. Neither can you sprinkle sugar over it or cook it longer to make it cooked inside or the outside will just be charred.

What I am trying to say really is... Once you put it in... there really is no turning back. You can try to be like others all your life but then everyone's recipes seem to never work for you... It is so hard to resonate... but so easy to try... But to succeed always becomes second to failure and more failure... I still ask myself why was it that... 

There was no sound; no look; no eye; just plain silence even though it was in the middle of a class... 

And of course... another matter: How I feel that there is no greater sadness than when the other closes a door behind you when you thought that it will be opened for a longer time... Looks like another night on the streets with no place to go to...

A refugee... always~

A Glimpse of Deja Vu

It probably felt like there was no choice... Ran and ran until one could no longer take another step. The mountain of feelings that stockpiled could never have expected its perpetrator to be the certainty of one so sure that it was the only way - conviction. 

But the truth was not what was conceived; neither was it what was believed... The truth was that it wasn't just that nothing is blinder than when both eyes are shut and decisions are then made based on that split second impulse fueled by conviction and zeal. Self-righteous and pompous;

Let what was trivial turn others to shame. When a mountain out of a molehill spelled doomsday for one you knew just because it mattered but people didn't know any better~ No one did... No one expected... But there was hope: Heaven's will? Divine intervention?

I felt sad to know... to feel yet again: this time outside inward that even one I never knew could wrench my heart to no end and shed a tear... I dare not imagine how many others that would have wept bitter tears for one they could not save and just ask and ask: why? Just so that one who had died inside could once more~ not just for the sake of those that mourned. But for continuing the story that has yet to have a definitive ending...

But could I have done something? Said something? Because I KNOW... I know...

Until now it is  a poison that works insidiously inside... yet as much as life is such a piece of crap... I know too that being poisoned does not rob me of my right to be happy about other things... Being hurt does not mean I must make the whole world feel my pain... Just most importantly... it is about building yourself from scratch... discard the hate and then find out - even when it is a painful journey - what else lies ahead and how to make those that matter matter even more...

The Straws That Broke The Camel's Back

I still remember this phrase so well... I can hear it in my mind all the time it scares me - Like a distant echo that resounds in my head like a sonorous bell... Every day and every waking moment as I continue to ignore the voices and throw the old things away in order to usher in the new it still hurts a lot. It was what you said that time:

"It is the straws that broke the camel's back..."

How true indeed. No matter how many bitter tears - filled with regret - I shed like a cascading fountain will never revive the dead. This is no drama... only delusion. But how does one deal with that? How does one hang on so tightly to a rope that slowly breaks off fiber by fiber... Until in the end even when you are in tears and in sweat and left with a bleeding heart... Someone just takes a knife and cut off that single thin thread connecting the two... and I fell... ... Fell and fell~

For a time I was lost like a child in a bustling city... I wanted nothing more than to find a place where I could seek shelter and refuge from the rain outside. Even though nowadays... it probably rains less often above my head... I can't help thinking and recalling the images that play in my mind like a film without sound. 

To re-enact the scenes that has no colour and to see those mouths move but no voices come out. I wake up in the middle of the night multiple times to bizarre dreams of the people around me. I'll blame it on indigestion... but then again... I didn't even eat anything at all~ Too much on my mind I guess... but really really...

Every night when I go to bed... I ask myself why I am suffering so much for? What I am trying to become? But I guess most importantly... 

Why you had to take that knife and cut off that last thread... that even now as I am falling I still hold onto even though it is non-existent... and a bleeding wound that has yet to clot~

Taking A Dip Into Another Realm

I've always enjoyed swimming at the pool. But of course I hate the crowds and the weekend mornings when there are just so many kids flooding the pool because of swimming lessons. My initial intent to continue my swimming ritual begun with the intention to burn the calories. But every time I take that plunge and swim that distance I feel serene and at peace. For each plunge I make into that cold water and break the surface of calm... I enter into a world of memories and hear my own voice that echoes from a distant past... So many memories flood back to me and I get overwhelmed with the excitement and joy of having lived life at least once...

I recalled a time when I was still such a child. When my aunt will pass me a bag of longans when I was about 4-5 years old. She will then tell me to play the usual game of the "longan tree". Silly me will hold onto those longans like I was a real tree and call my aunt when the longans had ripen so she could come eat them...

In another incident I remembered a time when I was a student leader overseas... How I facilitated a camp and interacted with kids from all over the World. They looked up to me and I remembered how I would participate in the games with them even though I was the facilitator. On the last day i think everyone cried. I really had fun and I learned so much from people from all over the World. More importantly... I also learned how similar everyone actually were as well... We all had a beating heart that when the common link is drawn together can beat as one...

I had vague memories of my OCS commissioning parade. The only thing I really remembered was my mum helping me put on my rank  and then there was the tossing of my headdress. One of the proudest days of my life; probably for my parents too. I was sad however that I had to say goodbye to a lot of my friends whom I had grown to love over the painful course of 9 months... Suddenly things came to an end...

Many many many such memories come to me... Whenever I plunge into that pool and swim without any abandon. It dawned on me halfway today though that things never ever did turn out the way that I ever expected them to. Because all the people I ever became good friends with came when I least expected it. The lives I touched... Some i leave behind while others touch me so much that even after they leave I can still hear their voices and picture that image that is frozen in time and stashed in my memory vault...

For a time I kept asking myself what was 'strong'. Until today I still can't really come up with that answer yet. I initially thought that being aggressive and strong-willed meant that I was strong. But I felt misguided. But in the end I admit to everyone today... I am weak... But I am strong because I know I am weak. I know I can't do everything I set out to do; I know I can never be the person everyone wants me to be... Of course... I know I cannot do everything by myself... Because when we come together we become strong... But by myself I am so frail... 

I may be weak... but I want to help; want to make a difference... Maybe my own power is meager. But I hope that in whatever people do... whether they are strong or weak... If I am to be there... I wish I can add on my power to make it stronger (even by just a little). 

I look into the mirror everyday and I see a guy I have not seen for a long time... I tell myself there are things that only I can do even though there are many things I know I can never be as good as others. But i try... and I work hard to do it... I still think I am a kid inside. But it doesn't really matter (though my father always scolds me for being a boy and not a man yet). But what's so bad about being a boy?

All I know is to always be sincere... and pure in my intentions... and never forget ever... that my feelings are just as important as others ever will be~ Because we're all alive...