So I'm in the middle of my exams now and while I'm supposed to be studying really hard for a very heavy paper tommorrow, I can only think of the days that I will spend away from home.
I've been waiting for an opportunity to leave for a long time. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. The people I love the most are here and that's more important than anything else. But at some point, I just have to move out of what I'm comfortable with and move on to something that I'm not. My last trip to Japan lasted 16 days and at the end of those 2 weeks I was literally jumping in front of the Imperial Palace because I missed home so much. I called my mum after I got myself firm on the ground and her voice sounded much sweeter than the sound of birds chirping in Chuo-ku and trust me, I'm not someone who usually says that my mum's voice is sweet. The kicker was that it was Easter Sunday that day and I didn't even know....
This year I will spend my birthday away from home. It will be the very first time that I will very likely have to buy my own mini-cake, light my own mini-candles and sing myself a very mini-birthday song in Japanese. But there's always a brighter side to sad, lonely things; a person's 20th birthday is a very important event in Japanese culture so why shouldn't I be happy about celebrating it in Japan? For all you know, my 20th may not turn out that lonely after all.
But that's just one small aspect of being away. Being away also means that I won't get to disturb little Nicolette and roar at her on the weekends; it means that I won't come back home every evening to the sound of mimi running back home from wherever she is to greet me with an adorable purr; it means that I won't be able to walk into my front door at the end of a long day and tease mummy about watching Korean dramas all day and not doing any housework (that's totally not true of course);it means I can't call papa and ask him if he could pick me up; it means that I can't sms Stefie to come out for a meal at any time of the day nor watch Gilmore with her; it means that I won't be able to go for open mics at SAC on Friday evenings; it means that I won't be able to call Radah and ask her if she wants to have a night out promising each other we won't leave any club without at least getting a couple of numbers; it means I can't lead Mato into weird situations that would get him into trouble with my mum; it means that I won't be able to get annoyed with little Damien for taking thosuands of photos of the fan with my phone and yet still find him so adorable; most shockingly, it means that I will be a 7 hour plane ride away from the little island that I grew up in and have also grown to love so much despite all her idiosyncracies.
It means that I need to come back here. Someday. Someday soon. But for now, I want nothing more than to leave.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I Need To Get Away
Every day longer that I spend here, i let myself fall further and deeper into a pit called mediocrity. Mediocrity is like a spec of dirt on your shirt and it never comes off. Such a pit is not as hopeless as a bottomless one, and yet it is not shallow enough for you to climb up to the surface easily, or at all. No. The pit of mediocrity is neither too deep nor too shallow; just the right size and depth for a mediocre person.
God never made man a perfect creature. God made man, then woman out of man. Then, he bestowed gifts upon them. Every single one received gift, but not all received the same amount of gifts. Some were born more academicaly inclined than others; some were born with the natural ability to dance; some, like me, were born to sing and learn languages.
While I'm thankful to God for bestowing the gift of music on me, I also wonder why I was chosen to receive these gifts. If I had the power to give someone musical ability, I would expect him to be able to conduct an orchestral; or else to sing a song so natually so as to move the hearts of those in need of emotional comfort; or else to create tunes that touch the lives of others. I have none of these. I can sing. I can learn languages fast. That's all.
I have major problems with dynamics. Music, as I see it, is almost like a paved road. Through months of training and experience I have learnt to see it as the ocean: sway and bulging and bursting before laying back and relaxing only to form an even larger wave the next time round. But that's all that I can do.. to see it that way. And that is the least of my problems.
I thought God gave all artistically inclined people the ability to recognize emotions that other could only feel and not realize. Lyricists arrange words in such a way that can make people cry upon hearing or reading them lyrics; composers set words to melodies that tug directly at the heartstrings of the common person; singers become the powerful living vehicle to convey he emotions and stories behind a song to people who need so badly to know that their lives aren't as bad as they think. Singers like Justin Timberlake, Maria Callas, Jon Bon Jovi, Bono, Randolf, Zul, Hady Mirza undoubtedly have the ability to feel a particular emotion, recognize it and then most importantly, convey it to their audiences.
As I angrily direct my cursor towards the 'x' in the top right corner of a window still playing a youtube video, I cannot help but wonder what emotion I am feeling, why I'm feeling that way, and how I can convey such an emotion to the next person who steps into my room.
An artiste can be defined as a person who takes charge of his emotions and presents it to the public for a living. An artiste who has grown to lose control of his feelings to the point where he cannot even be an actor on a stage he once dreamed of living his life on is someone who has lost himself; a walking shell of human flesh with neither heart nor spleen.
God never made man a perfect creature. God made man, then woman out of man. Then, he bestowed gifts upon them. Every single one received gift, but not all received the same amount of gifts. Some were born more academicaly inclined than others; some were born with the natural ability to dance; some, like me, were born to sing and learn languages.
While I'm thankful to God for bestowing the gift of music on me, I also wonder why I was chosen to receive these gifts. If I had the power to give someone musical ability, I would expect him to be able to conduct an orchestral; or else to sing a song so natually so as to move the hearts of those in need of emotional comfort; or else to create tunes that touch the lives of others. I have none of these. I can sing. I can learn languages fast. That's all.
I have major problems with dynamics. Music, as I see it, is almost like a paved road. Through months of training and experience I have learnt to see it as the ocean: sway and bulging and bursting before laying back and relaxing only to form an even larger wave the next time round. But that's all that I can do.. to see it that way. And that is the least of my problems.
I thought God gave all artistically inclined people the ability to recognize emotions that other could only feel and not realize. Lyricists arrange words in such a way that can make people cry upon hearing or reading them lyrics; composers set words to melodies that tug directly at the heartstrings of the common person; singers become the powerful living vehicle to convey he emotions and stories behind a song to people who need so badly to know that their lives aren't as bad as they think. Singers like Justin Timberlake, Maria Callas, Jon Bon Jovi, Bono, Randolf, Zul, Hady Mirza undoubtedly have the ability to feel a particular emotion, recognize it and then most importantly, convey it to their audiences.
As I angrily direct my cursor towards the 'x' in the top right corner of a window still playing a youtube video, I cannot help but wonder what emotion I am feeling, why I'm feeling that way, and how I can convey such an emotion to the next person who steps into my room.
An artiste can be defined as a person who takes charge of his emotions and presents it to the public for a living. An artiste who has grown to lose control of his feelings to the point where he cannot even be an actor on a stage he once dreamed of living his life on is someone who has lost himself; a walking shell of human flesh with neither heart nor spleen.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Fat Man's Act
The following is prima facie evidence of the utter lifelessness of a friend we know by the name of Ashwin. His current state of mind is unknown but he was last seen making out with a monkey and later hanging out with someone who was chasing a cat while it was taking a poop so it is assumed that he is at least mildly deranged.
This post is entirely fictional and is in no way a personal stab at obese people.
FAT MAN’S ACT
(CHAPTER 23)
(CHAPTER 23)
Short title.
1. This Act may be cited as the Fat Man’s Act.
Being or attempting to be fat.
Being or attempting to be fat.
2. —(1) Subject to any exception referred to in Chapter IV of the Penal Code (Cap. 224) which may be applicable (other than section 95), any person who becomes or attempts to be fat shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.
Presumption3. Where any person is found to be with the company of a fat person, he is presumed to be fat until the contrary is proven and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.
Abetting
3. Any person found to be giving or feeding a fat person is deemed to have committed an offence under Section 2, Subsection 1 and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.
Trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening.
Presumption3. Where any person is found to be with the company of a fat person, he is presumed to be fat until the contrary is proven and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.
Abetting
3. Any person found to be giving or feeding a fat person is deemed to have committed an offence under Section 2, Subsection 1 and shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with death.
Trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening.
4. —(1) Any person trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening shall be guilty of an offence and shall on conviction be punished with —
(a) death; or
(b) imprisonment for life and with caning with not less than 6 strokes.
(b) imprisonment for life and with caning with not less than 6 strokes.
(2) Any person proved to be in unlawful possession of more than 2 bags of fattening agents shall, until the contrary is proved, be presumed to be trafficking in food for the purpose of fattening.
Power to amend Schedule6. The Minister may at any time by order add to, amend or vary the Schedule.
Power to amend Schedule6. The Minister may at any time by order add to, amend or vary the Schedule.
Friday, February 1, 2008
(untitled)
There hasn't been a single moment when my life was not filled with music.
When I was a little boy and Sonic the Hedgehog was among the most important things in my life, I remember struggling through the different stages of each Sonic game on my 16bit megadrive while a familiar funky sounding music played in the background. Turns out, that was the msuic of The Beatles, whom my brother was extremely fond of in the 90s.
Downstairs in the hall (or sometimes kitchen), I would watch TV while the tune of "long see wee tio lee" and "ai bpia jia eh ee-ah" played softly (sometimes, not so softly) in the background. Turns out those were Hokkien songs my mum never stopped playing ever since she was about 18. And you don't even want me to get started on the countless Mandarin and Cantonese casette tapes that she had (still has) in her cupoboard. Funny choice of music for someone who grew up in a Eurasian setting but well, I guess the concept of 'identity crisis' as a genetic transmission isn't a new discovery after all.
In the car, I'd play with my handheld games (I never had a gameboy back then, just a gamegear which melted out after only a few months) while lyrics like these vibrated the membranes of the rear speakers uncontrollably, thanks to my father's music collection:
"Blue eyes smiling at me
Nothing but blue eyes do I see"
"Lai la lai.. lai la lai la lai la lai"
"Before those funny, familiar, forgotten feelings
start walking all over my mind"
"There must be peace and understanding sometimes
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear"
And of course, who can forget my sister's choice of music that ranged from 80s electropop for one period, then emo-emo Chinese pop the next. Her favourite singer that left a deep impression on me (probably scarred me for life) was Jeff Chang.. he sounds like a girl!
As for me, I grew up listening to the different kinds of music that I listen to today. I love radio friendly hits (anyone who tells you that they hate such songs is lying through his teeth), classic rock, ballads, classical music, opera, indian classical music, tribal melodies (drones usually) and basically anything that can vibrate my eardrums (eventually) in a pleasant way.
Which brings me to a rather self-indulgent ending to this article. There have been many ways that I thought I would have liked to end my life: in the presence of my children and grandchildren all weeping for me to have a peaceful passing; jumping off a cliff; carbon monoxide; in an explosion; in a gangfight; after being mauled by a lion and many many many more gruesome yet exciting ways. But I still come back to one most romantic fantasy that I have always had: to get hit by a car travelling at 150km/h while crossing the road with earphones stuck deep inside my ears playing a very melodic song like "Honey" by Bobby Goldsboro or "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance or even "Always" by Bon Jovi... while I slowly but surely slip into an eventual and eternal darkness.
Only then can I truly say that there hasn't been a single moment when my life that was not filled with music.
When I was a little boy and Sonic the Hedgehog was among the most important things in my life, I remember struggling through the different stages of each Sonic game on my 16bit megadrive while a familiar funky sounding music played in the background. Turns out, that was the msuic of The Beatles, whom my brother was extremely fond of in the 90s.
Downstairs in the hall (or sometimes kitchen), I would watch TV while the tune of "long see wee tio lee" and "ai bpia jia eh ee-ah" played softly (sometimes, not so softly) in the background. Turns out those were Hokkien songs my mum never stopped playing ever since she was about 18. And you don't even want me to get started on the countless Mandarin and Cantonese casette tapes that she had (still has) in her cupoboard. Funny choice of music for someone who grew up in a Eurasian setting but well, I guess the concept of 'identity crisis' as a genetic transmission isn't a new discovery after all.
In the car, I'd play with my handheld games (I never had a gameboy back then, just a gamegear which melted out after only a few months) while lyrics like these vibrated the membranes of the rear speakers uncontrollably, thanks to my father's music collection:
"Blue eyes smiling at me
Nothing but blue eyes do I see"
"Lai la lai.. lai la lai la lai la lai"
"Before those funny, familiar, forgotten feelings
start walking all over my mind"
"There must be peace and understanding sometimes
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear"
And of course, who can forget my sister's choice of music that ranged from 80s electropop for one period, then emo-emo Chinese pop the next. Her favourite singer that left a deep impression on me (probably scarred me for life) was Jeff Chang.. he sounds like a girl!
As for me, I grew up listening to the different kinds of music that I listen to today. I love radio friendly hits (anyone who tells you that they hate such songs is lying through his teeth), classic rock, ballads, classical music, opera, indian classical music, tribal melodies (drones usually) and basically anything that can vibrate my eardrums (eventually) in a pleasant way.
Which brings me to a rather self-indulgent ending to this article. There have been many ways that I thought I would have liked to end my life: in the presence of my children and grandchildren all weeping for me to have a peaceful passing; jumping off a cliff; carbon monoxide; in an explosion; in a gangfight; after being mauled by a lion and many many many more gruesome yet exciting ways. But I still come back to one most romantic fantasy that I have always had: to get hit by a car travelling at 150km/h while crossing the road with earphones stuck deep inside my ears playing a very melodic song like "Honey" by Bobby Goldsboro or "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance or even "Always" by Bon Jovi... while I slowly but surely slip into an eventual and eternal darkness.
Only then can I truly say that there hasn't been a single moment when my life that was not filled with music.
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