Movie Magik.

I can't sleep still. And while I was taking a dump just now I was thinking about movies. There's this line in some book I can't remember about that acute sense of awkwardness in the movies. The one that the narrator felt when he watched a kissing scene in a movie with a good (girl) friend of his.

I don't know why but I thought it was from the Kite Runner, which doesn't make sense cause of the nature of the central relationship the book is built on. Probably the image of watching movies in books made me think of the boys watching the westerns in the book. And now I can't figure out what book it was from. It probably followed some cliche about how after the movie the guy or the girl then takes the hand of the other person so naturally and how they live happily ever after. Together.

Stupid cliche, really. That does not happen, not for me. The awkwardness, very much true. Trying to look like you're totally engrossed in the movie. Trying not to sneak glances at her. Trying not to be noticed then you do. And the worst part is, it drags on forever. Seriously. Mouth increasingly dry. Hard swallows. No movement. For the duration of the kiss. No popcorn, no drinks. Or of course, feigned nonchalance. Lounging deeper into the chair. Languid sips of the drink. An attempt to ignore the palpable tension in the air. Weak attempt at humour during or after the kiss (at the next even slightly humorous scene). Accelerated heart rate.

Okay I was wrong, seriously the worst part was not knowing if she went through the same torture. Who knows? Maybe it's just another scene to her. You think it's both of you suffering, but maybe she didn't. That not knowing sucks. Back on track, the awkwardness I agree with. It's the aftermath that's stupid. It doesn't work that way. Real life isn't a story.

Or is it?

Life, To What End?

I was having trouble sleeping cause I was feeling troubled. I was lying down and being plagued by weird musings. Might be my skipping dinner (uncharacteristic, as is my desire to sleep at 11.30). Anyway, I wanted to sleep. Still want to actually, but not really. I rather feel like putting my thoughts down, before they all get lost in the humdrum of everyday life. Even now I can feel my train of thought slipping away, maybe forever, maybe not. The mundane things in life like switching on the comp, making sure my brother doesn't get woken up by me, putting my shirt in the laundry basket, scanning the newspaper headlines. They bury those thoughts. I don't like that, or maybe I do. I don't know.

Anyways, here goes. I've always thought that I'd be completely satisfied by a very normal life, lived out in happiness and content. Of course, in my imaginations my job would be perfect, wife loving, kids (any number up to my perfect wife) but otherwise very normal. But then, to what end? What's the point? And is that really how I'd like to live out my life? Normalcy? Or do I really want to live a life of recklessness, fearlessness, doing things spontaneously, a lifestyle so exciting, like those you can only read of? And even then, to what end? What exactly is the point? Is a fulfilling life one that you are remembered? That you are loved? That you've made a mark on the world? Entered the history books? Leaving behind something lasting for your children, and their children, and their children? Honestly, I have no idea. It's probably very much up to one's own definition. And for myself, I don't know. How would you know what you'd be happier doing? Trial and error? Try something, maybe you love it. But some things grow on you, don't they? So is a fulfilling life one that you are the happiest that you can have been, one that you've made all the right, happy choices?

I'd like to think of myself as someone who come what may, accepts a situation and is content with whatever I have. What does that say about me though? That I'm an unexciting, dull person, content with whatever scraps life throws at me? And even so, so what? Does it matter if I really am dull and whatevernot, as long as I'm happy? I don't know. And even now I can feel myself forgetting what I was thinking just now. Was this what I meant to write in the first place?

I think at myself (not to myself, there's a difference) that I would (or should) be happy with a stable life. But I also think that my life is going to turn out perfect. That's just stupid isn't it? Is it myself trying to convince myself to accept normalcy? Or is it really what I feel, the secret voice of my heart telling me what it has always known? But whichever the case, if in the end I'm a happy person, does it matter what I started of as? I don't know, is there a point whether you've in some sense "betrayed" your inner self? The apostrophes present because, how can you betray yourself if it's you telling you something for the truth? Is there no such thing as a true inner self, just one that has been shaped by the years, by experience? Does it make a difference?

What's the point of all these questions that my mind has flung at me? Is there one at all? I have no idea. Is it me trying to seek out some deeper meaning in life, some abstract mumbling designed to make me look smart, or? What's the point? Of these questions I have. Of life? Is there one? You know, charity work and the likes, helping people around you, helping people you don't know, striving for (insert ideal), all this, what's the point? Alright, staring at the screen does not promote philosophical musings, so I'll try my darnedest to be at least a little coherent. Yes, you make an impact on those the vagaries of fate have left in the lurch. You make their lives that much better, permanently or temporarily, depending on what you do for them. Which begs the question, so? Does that really fulfill you? Or are you conditioned to feel fulfillment upon doing good? And again, so? So what if it's the propagation of the notion that "do good=feel good" that makes you feel good? At the end of it all, you do feel good right? Isn't that the end game? Or not? Does it matter if the good we're feeling is all based on what society dictates to us should make us feel good? Is it not good, even so? It's like being scammed into being happy, why should you refuse, if at the end of it all you're still happy, right? Or no? Up to you, I'm not ready to answer these questions to myself just yet.

I'm not sure, am I trying to drive home some point here? That you know, maybe there is no point to life. That we could just get it over and done with, in the hope of either an eternal, enjoyable afterlife, or just plain simple nothingness? I firmly place my faith in the former, let there be no doubt. I know it to be true. These sentences in no way indicates my waning desire for life, to live life. Does it matter if there's no point to life? Since we have it, we might as well enjoy it. It's like watching a horror movie, does it matter that it's pointless? No, you don't just close your eyes and hope for it to end soon (I'm speaking generally, some people probably do), you watch it and enjoy it (inasmuch as that's possible) regardless of what is achieved, no? I intend to lead a happy life, however long it's meant to be (what kind of life I don't know yet, reckless/dull, whatever, maybe I have no say in it whatsoever, does it matter?).

Which springs this, what of destiny? The belief in destiny. If you believe in it, does that then mean that whatever choice you make in whatever thing, does not make a difference at all? Since everything is predestined. Does that mean that there's a choice that calls out to you everytime you have to make one, that is the "right" one? That if you don't heed it, you are then no longer bound by destiny? Or does everyone have an infinity of destinies? Does that not then destroy the very meaning of the word? And those who don't believe, are not their lives then ruled by no higher order, but chaos? Are you comfortable with that? That your life is subject to all sorts of randomness, which by it's very nature has no rules, no regard for who you are? Doesn't that make you feel insignificant? Do you feel safe in the knowledge that you are governed by chance? That by it's capricious nature, there could be nothing but destruction in your life? No benign entity to limit and reverse the damage?

I feel that you know, those die-hard atheists, well, they're probably not very happy people. Maybe their firm belief in no gods, no deities, "empowers" them to seek temporal pleasure with relish. If there's no afterlife, it doesn't matter does it? Doing good, doing bad. No difference, as long as I myself am happy. I think that's sad. You submit yourself to the belief that you're nothing but a reaction that produced different results (the big bang, if you will), that there's nothing unique about us, that there could be an infinity of other peopled planets out there. How can you feel nothing but insignificant? The super logical say, yes, that's the truth. We are in fact insignificant. For what are we but a bunch of atoms floating around in our vast universe? Signifcantly different from the rocks, maybe, but there could be a plethora of other us-es out there. We're nothing, a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. I'd feel worthless, if I thought that. And what would I do? Derive the greatest pleasure in the quickest time, for as long as I can fully experience that satisfaction, contentment, happiness, whatever. The life of someone who doesn't give a damn. Which sucks, for the people around him, for how can you live with someone who honestly doesn't give two hoots?

I'm not sure why these comments have crept in. It's nowhere near what I was originally thinking. Anyway, I do believe in destiny, whatever that entails. I am not normally given to such musings on how it functions and whether it makes sense, so I'm normally quite the happy idiot.

Anyway, I don't know who reads this and I don't care. I'm not sure why but it's just something I had the urge to write down, so that it does not get lost in the sands of time. How much time in a day do you have to think. Really think? It sometimes occurs to me that I could live life without thinking, not much. How long has it been since you've really, really thought about something that matters? Or something that doesn't, it doesn't matter.

I don't include exams and tests and other such stuff, cause I do honestly feel it's all futile. Does anyone care about what they learn? Only what they score for it, most of the time. And right at this moment, it all seems so useless. But truth is, tomorrow I'm going to school, and going to learn what ten thousand other kids are learning, in an effort to beat them. That's what education is all about, in the end. And whatever I feel about it, I'm still going to try my best for the As, cause this system is so all-encompassing. You just can't beat it. A disgruntled cog maybe, but still one of millions in a well-oiled system. Which brooks no failures.

Digression, again. Not really, cause it's real sentiments, which is what blogs are all about, or what they should be about. It pleases me to write down what I think. If it pleases you to read it, you're welcome, it's been a pleasure. If it doesn't, well, I'm sorry for you that you had to trawl through hundreds of words. I'm not sorry, it's your fault for reading, not mine for writing. If what I've said connects somehow, I very much hope you have at least an inkling of your own answers to those questions. Cause I don't, and it bothers me. It bothers me that I have no idea. But I'm not going to spend the rest of my life pondering over this post, cause that's plain stupid. Does it matter that I have no idea?

Enough with the questions, I'm beginning to doubt myself and my coherence. My questions might not even make sense at all. I don't know. On a sidenote, writing everything down does not seem to appease my mind. I'm still feeling plagued by a sense of troubledness, except that there are no specific thoughts which are causing it. Just this general sense of being troubled. Wts.

Oh I've also noticed how many "I don't know"s and the like all over. Does this not point to the wonders of the mysteries of life? It also occurs to me that some of my thoughts at the beginning are quite disconnected. I apologize.

Many Funerals.

The Tears Shed Into Pillows Deep Into The Night

As a child we were told horror stories, really nasty terrible stories of what'd happen if we did bad things. The dam would break and all the sorrows of the real world would wash over us.

But it was not our fault. That the dam finally broke from the crush of all the tears shed into pillows deep into the night. The dam-makers, they did not predict the sheer volume of grief in the real world. 10 feet thick, they built, 10 feet of solid wall against the despair the real world conjured up on a nightly basis. But it cracked, it shattered.

What is this, you ask. Who are we. We are who we are, the people of the tears shed into pillows deep into the night. Collecting every tear shed by weeping bawling mourning people crying themselves to sleep. By long, long tubes underneath the pillows of the people of the real world.

A lot of tubes, really. And a lot more tears then you'd expect, from people you don't expect. All pooling into our world. My world. And as a child gazing into all those tears, I think "What a sad, sad world."

And as I am now, awash in tears, each tear a story unto itself. The anguish of a newly orphaned boy. The bereavement of a widow. The heartbreak of a sweet lass just turned 16. The lament of a grieving father. The despair. The agony.

And still, still, they come trickling down.





I read this paragraph once of this reservoir of tears. It was very good (my story hardly does it justice). Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close the title of the book. Anyways I've been re-reading Robert Jordan lately, just borrowed the 11th one. Been such that I've not had time to blog at all, what with studying (which interestingly does not take up that much of my time) going out, reading, watching my TV series (Bones, House) and general merry-making. Not that I've had the urge to blog. I think there's something about an audience. I'm not an audience person. How can a blog be an accurate chronicle of ones life if it is subject to scrutiny from one's peers? Inadvertently you'd leave something out, scathing remarks of your friends, your DDS (deepest darkest secrets) et cetera. Or maybe it's just a place for funny anecdotes and quirky information about the person trying to convince you he's unique.

Does it matter, really? Neil Gaiman. He is the master, man. A master storyteller the likes of which the world has not seen in the past 5000 years. After the joys of the Graveyard Book and American Gods, I stumbled upon a collection of short stories in the form of Fragile Things on one of my routine visits to WM library. Whimsical, bizzare, fantastical stories, sometimes even all at once. I haven't read Stardust, which I also haven't watched because I thought the female lead wasn't pretty :/

Got some of the results back. Not pretty. Consolation in the form of an A for GP, entirely unexpected. That's too mild a word. Shock might be better. But yes, miracles do happen and we move on. Moving on to failed chemistry, almost definitely failed physics, haven't-gotten-back-yet-but-could-have-been-better-maths. That about wraps up the common test. Big despondent sigh. HAIIIIIIIIIYA. Wonder what it'll take to motivate me.

Oh yeah, I recall watching a few movies lately. Drag Me To Hell definitely takes top spot. Intense. That's the show in a nutshell. Intensely funny (goat capering around haha) and intensely intense. I've never been so stressed in the theatres before. I'm putting my manhood on the line and stating that I was squirming through half the movie. Red Cliff at long last, albeit only on the little tiny screen on the plane. Watchmen, also on the plane. I intend to watch Duplicity, apparently it has good dialogue which is totally my thang. Public Enemies I confirm plus chop must watch, as soon as it comes out. Simply put, it's Johnny Depp. Then there's Christian Bale. My word. In terms of acting chops it's like putting chicken chop pork chop and lamb chop together.

Oh right, not 30 minutes past, I did my part for charity in the form of $10 in cookies. I do hope I'm not going to be scammed/ripped-off TOO badly. Never struck myself as being charitable.

I'm going to dota now.

"In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go into the same place, and in the morning the weatherman could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York was in heavy boots. And when something really terrible happened - like a nuclear bomb, or at least a biological weapons attack - an extremely loud siren would go off, telling everyone to get to Central Park to put sandbags around the reservoir."

-Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer

Hope For The Hopeless.

Hmm, A Fine Frenzy is pretty nice. I have no idea how popular she is or whatever, but she is pretty good to listen to. I thought it was sort of like Eisley, which made me rediscover Eisley which is in my opinion seriously totally amazing. They're unearthly. But in all honesty, there's a world of difference between Eisley and A Fine Frenzy, not alike at all.

Anyway I was onto A Fine Frenzy cause all of a sudden I see 2 people on MSN with "The Sweetest Sadness In Your Eyes" as their nick/ personal messages. And when you see 2 people putting something like that, your curiosity is naturally piqued. So I googled it and came up with Almost Lover. Good stuff.

And this Almost Lover, the mythical entity which plagues men and women alike. Which keeps grown men awake at night the way no other creature of the night can. Who leaves you wondering about the unfulfilled potential. Coulda woulda shoulda.

Huh. I spent my last 3 hours listening to music. Wtshit. I was feeling very resolute yesterday when I decided, no more late nights and no computer before 10pm everyday. And it's 7am now. I've been using the comp since the midnight. Shit. It appears my resolution has crumbled after all of 0 days. I didn't even manage to carry it out once befoer failing so miserably and spectacularly. Well. At least I did study yesterday. And I plan to do so again today. One up for the forces of good.

Don't know if I should sleep at all. Gonna watch my bones, then decide. Morning, all.

Dangerzone.

I can finally type. Relief floods through me as I relish typing every letter. The past few weeks or months have been horrible, without a working keyboard. Nobody who hasn't had 5 buttons spoilt can understand the remarkable sense of relief I am experiencing now. So now I'm back with a vengeance.

Anyways, the culmination of 1 whole year of training was the loss to PJ in the plates. The dreams and hopes of a bunch of would-be-heroes were left behind on that pitch. And we'll never have that chance again. We might, in the aftermath, laugh and make cruel jokes, blame one other entirely for the loss, but the fact remains that never again will we have the opportunity to make our names, make our mark on history. Is it not a fundamental desire of Man to leave behind something of ourselves, to be remembered? No matter how insignificant it might be, to be regarded as winners, champions. Well, we're not.

I recall the whistle being blown, and my not feeling anything, like I couldn't grasp the fact that we lost. I've never felt sad about the loss. A sense of mounting disbelief and a whole lot of frustration. It seems so illogical, no? To have been dominating and leading, then to lose it all? It does not make sense, yes?

And to top it all off, today morning we had to receive our medals for losing. Gee. Well no matter, it's all water under the bridge now.

Now what is of greater import is studying. I promised my mom to study after season, and I shall, hopefully. The June holidays are the last holidays we're gonna have for a long time, and I intend to maximise it. Chemistry is a subject from the very pits of DOOM. I fear I'll never be able to catch up cause it really is a bore studying it. On a bright note, I have just passed my first test in maybe 3 months. That is just the sort of result which fires my passion for studying up, fueling my desire for As in every subject. Not. To my shame, I'm still much more likely to dota than study. In fact, I'm more likely to give birth than to study. Oh boy.

Sometimes you have to wonder how much you mean to someone else. Yes? Would that person welcome an intrusion into his/her life again? Would that person appreciate an attempt to re-establish contact, to regain that which was, presumably, so dear to both of us? That precious friendship? I wish I knew. It wouldn't take much to make that littlest of attempts, but it seems my actions are ruled by fear.

Watch out, you're entering the dangerzone. We might, start something that's emotional.

That's the thought I had in the not so distant past, an eternity ago. It seems sort of foolish, yet it's only natural, a fear of the unknown, is it not? But now when I'm desperately scrabbling for something even vaguely resembling what we had, it seems the height of foolishness. Well. I guess that's that.

To that which was lost. And to the hope that it can be recovered.
Goodnight. (:

And On The Third Day.

He rose and conquered the grave. And now death has no sting, and we have life eternal. This is the weekend in celebration of our Lord's victory 2000 years ago, happy Easter. I was just wondering, how could it have felt to be there, between His death and His resurrection, on that saturday 2000 years ago? Lost, probably, sheep without their shepherd. Hopeless, crushed. And then, to exclamations of wonderment and awe, on the third day hope was restored. And that's what His sacrifice has given us, we'll never be without our divine shepherd, hope springs forth eternal, and we're forever under the shadow of His wings. There will we dwell forevermore, in His protection, favor and grace.

There is no shame in being Christian and devoted to the Lord. Peter "The Rock" Simon denied Jesus 3 times, but we none of us shall, for we are in the world but not of the world, and nothing the world says can affect our love for Him, nor His for us.

Indeed, I'm finally updating my blog. I haven't really wanted to, cause I'm not sure what I'm supposed to blog about. What's my blog for? Is it to satisfy the natural exhibitionist instincts of our species? To present a carefully constructed persona to it's viewers, and let them arrive at the conclusions I want them to about my character? To update my friends of my everyday going-ons? As a place where I can express my heartfelt feelings on everything and anything that's going on in my life? Or? And I realise that I have no idea. And thus it is difficult to ascertain what exactly to blog about.

Well I'm not exactly interested in divulging the mundane details of the humdrum, the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I doubt anyone blogs their innermost thoughts, who would? Who'd bare their souls on the Internet? I dunno, but doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose of blogging, where one is supposed to have freedom of expression like never before? I guess, yeah.

After all that rambling, I think I shall blog whatever I wish to blog about at whichever point in time I decide to. It works as a semi-useful diary of sorts, where I recount any momentous events I deem fit to post about, it works to let off steam or to bitch about the world in general.

Alright, Good friday was good and not good. Celebrated liyan's birthday, met up with the Gang (or at least those who are still in singapore) and lost money. I had 50 bucks when I went out in the morning, I returned home with $2.80. That is a terrible state of affairs, disastrous. Well the Tea Party was awesome, scones and pizza and franks and chunky chicken bits, and that spiced milk. And Taboo, of course. And multi-shots. I didn't mean to abandon kidman, annabel and amanda but well, it's been a long time since the last gang meetup.

Training the past 2 days could not have occured under more different cirumstances. Friday it was raining crazily and it was damn cold while listening to the tutorial by coach. In marked contrast, today the sun tried to make up for its failures on friday and beat down without respite. The heat was bloody oppressive, especially after coming out of air-con. After going to the library, I stepped out of west mall and just started burning up. This sweltering heat and the rain preceding it on friday, can only be the products of global warming. What a pain in the ass.

I borrowed a book from the library cause I left the book I was reading in tong's bag (the failings of having the same bag.) Well at least it wasn't lost, which I thought it was. The library scams those unfortunate souls who lose books, we have to pay both the cost of the book and some fictional admin fee, I say it's all just an elaborate set-up to cheat our money. I'm bitter cause I had to pay $40 dollars in fines not too long ago. Frauds. Anyway I borrowed the White Woman which is supposed to be a classic I think, but I remember borrowing it twice before and falling asleep every single time I started on it. But I have faith that I'm far more determined and strong-willed than the 2 previous times. If only I didn't have another 3 books to complete, I just might. I hope I remember correctly that renewing the loan of books is now free. I don't wanna rack up debts to those swindlers so soon after clearing it.

I want to win. I want to win badly. I want to see all our efforts come to fruition at last. The culmination of a year and more of training. There is nothing else in which I have put in as much effort as this, not studies, not badminton, nothing. And if God is for us, who can be against us?

Well, dota time :D

Immortality.

"My brothers! I would rather fight beside you than any army of thousands! Let no man forget how menacing we are, we are cougars! Do you know what's waiting beyond the season? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!"

-Adapted from 'Troy'