Greyed

As every second stealthily passes by, a part of me is trapped within that second that will never be released. That second even bears the risk of not being remembered at all, by anyone, forever. Is it necessary then, to know that every second spent had served a good purpose?

At the end of my days, how many seconds of my moments are being captured? Do I really want someone to remember me, whether I am dead or alive?

There are many ways to be remembered. The pictures taken, the words spoken and written, the lingering scent.

Does it then matter if the person who remembers me dies? Where would all the pictures finally end up in? Would it be trapped in the facebook eternally?

Would my thoughts be safely guarded or buried in this virtual dimension? Would my words here be read and be understood? Would it be interpreted in the same way as I thought it would be?

Are there things that one is willing to share but not told?

Are there things that one is willing to tell but not shared?

If all of the above does not matter, then it makes sense why some man prefers to be alone.

If being alone does not matter, then it makes sense why some man choose not to be a part of this world.

All that I perceive now comes from a world where I live in.

Will I then get to see the world from the perspective of a world without me in it?

In a world without me, will I get a better idea of how things should be if I am placed back in?

Ticking

It wasn't until last night when I was reminded of the impending crisis that could explode in years to come.

I had merely hid the time bomb under my bed so that the muffled ticking sound could not reach me.

Last night, I went under my bed and picked up the time bomb. I stared right into the face of it and yet remained clueless to how I can disarm it.

Looking back the past one year, I seemed to staged a feat that few others can achieve. I have attained my major short term goals in life, and I am brimming with pride. But, when I silently gather my thoughts once again, I hear the muffled ticking of the time bomb in my head and it feels as if I have never left my starting point.

As much as I push myself to craft the ideal life ahead, I am compelled to always look back.

Shall I chuck it back under my bed?

Emotions

It is the distinction of a man from a beast.

It is perhaps what makes a life worth living and, to some others, not worth living on.

At times I thought how nice it would be if I could be rid of it indefinitely,

But then again what would it mean to live a life of no emotions?

Bottle

Upon my exit from the hall, I closed another chapter in life. The steps taken became light instantaneously, the air evaporated of its staleness, even the puffs were sweet. The journey home felt like I was returning from a long enduring war. I rang my comrades who understands it all, and I rang the monkeys to share my joy of home-coming. I tried ringing her too.

Soon I was home, the same gloom greeted me from the moment I opened the creaking wooden door. Shadows engulfed the light as the door slammed shut behind me. As I ascended the unlit stairway and entered my room, the air grew stale once again. The translucent curtains allowed dim sunset rays to seep through, suffice to soothe the uneasiness in me. Unchanged, I laid on my bed, not out of weariness. Instead, I seemed to be beaten by a surge of emptiness. Although the mental racking period was finally over, the taste of sweetness did not last.

I realised I could not find the proper outlet to relieve myself of my joy. It striked me further that, indeed, much like stress, my joy needs to be discharged as well. Bottled up joy could turn stale really fast. The bottle of joy must be delivered right after it is created. Because stale joy gradually vanishes.

The seeping sun rays retreated and I was left alone with darkness. By then, the stale joy had already evaporated into nothingness. So be it. What is coming up next? I thought I had it all planned out. I merely need to execute it, but it just don't feel right. I have lost the connection, the touch that I longed for. When did it drift away, could I ever see it again? Out in the open sea, would the bottle of nothingness finally drift to its receiver one day?

I feel lost today.

Ironically, I now wish for this exam period to not have ended so soon.

Quote

Sucess is the result of good judegement.
Good judgement is the result of experience.
Experience is the result of bad judgement.

- Anthony Robbins

The Salesman

Donned in a striking brown/white striped top with a black tie, I heaved a tensed breath as I laid back onto the seat. I took out the clear file from my bag and laid it on the table. With my eyes closed,the next breath I took in transformed me into what I was half a year ago - the salesman.

The file contained the tools required for my sales presentation; the sales speech was drafted in point forms inside my head. This sales transaction would impact directly how I spend my next one year - a $20,000 deal! So I waited patiently before I hear my customer's heels' echoing drawing nearer from outside the door. I stood anticipating the handshake. I was prepared to present the product.

And so the customer started with a few enquiries before I took the lead in guiding her throughout our transaction. Looking straight into her eyes, I noticed how I had established the rapport with how I presented the product. I got her engaged with a few laughs in the process until I finished my planned presentation. It was almost perfect to what I had planned to say. The product is totally new to this market, and with no prior records of qualifications, I could only assure the customer that the product is of superior quality such that no matter in which market it is launched in, it would stand out of the rest as a result of its toughness and versatile nature.

The lady had few questions for me. Guess I had talked too much. Like most other rational buyers, she told me she would think about it, while she look at other products from her list. She promised to give me an answer very soon.

Indeed, on the very same day later, her assistant rang me during my lecture. I have sealed the deal.

Mission

I picked the same bag that I had brought the school on the previous day. Perhaps studying could take things off the mind. On the way out, I thought the library would be a great destination, for I had planned for ages to get some investment related book off their shelves. But when I faced the entrance of the library, I finally convince myself to put an end to the miserable deception.

Perhaps I need to embark on my mission. And so I headed six levels up the building instead, one storey beneath the rooftop. I exit the lift and turned into the small corridor. It was 7pm. The echoes were faint. I pushed open the glass door and two ladies greeted me. "How many of you?" asked the lady in black coat. "Erm... only one, myself." Even though I had set out to spend, I still took the cheaper option of the seat in the hall. As I picked up the wireless mic, I finally felt good.

And there at the Party World I ran a marathon of solo singing for 5 hours and 15 minutes almost non-stop. I started with a raw voice, to a opened up one, to a sore one, and finally to a point I could sing nicely without going through too much at the throat. It really felt great, especially when passerbys occaionally stood behind me until I finish that very song they were appreciating. Some clapped, some stood around to watch quietly after their toilet visit, some stayed a while before leaving the lounge, some took the seat opposite mine, and some asked me the title of the song that I have sung. At the end of the 5 hours, I realised my body to be trembling from weariness. But the experience was simply fantastic. I have heard of how A*mei collapsed from weariness after a complete exertion of energy at the end of the encore in her concert. I learnt that it could be so true.

12.15am, I walked out onto the same street in the opposite direction that I came from, only this time it was dark and the path stood hardly any but a few souls. Like an effect of a medication that wore off, the unwelcomed mood struck me yet again. I heaved a deep heavy sigh, which so obviously declared my throat a sored one.

Linger

How do suicidal thoughts come about? While every mother's son is bestowed with one life, be it long or short, sometimes it would seem justified to have Armageddon take place at that very moment to rip everyone off the right to live (if I decide not to exist anymore). Depression is a tool so powerful that it will momentarily brainwash rationality off a mind. Should I one day develop such thoughts, I will gather every last bit of my rationality and tell myself, "I must spend and utilise every single cent left in my savings before I succumb to that hellish idea. " I will indulge in the most lavish spending, shop with extravagance, and dine in luxurious places that serve the finest delicacies. When the last cent has been expanded, then it would be time to execute the mission, but only if I do not hesitate lingering in this world anymore longer after tasting the finest in life. If I should decide that this bloody world is still worth lingering, I would already have bought myself a second life.

Slacker's Blues

3 years ago, I started on a job that can put me through my wishes to graduate with a degree.

But after it began, I hoped for the working cum studying days to be gone as each day passed by with weariness, tilting the scale of a balanced life.

Alas, exams are near. I had counted down for nearly a year to the faithful day I tendered my resignation letter.

2 months ago, I commence a full swing revision. A pure student - nothing could be better.

But after it began, I hoped for the stressful days of memorising texts that I could not absorb to be over.

Alas, exams are over. I finally can put aside all work and books.

12 days ago, I focused on fully immersing myself in the joy of true blue slacker.

But after it began, it turned out that the days I most looked forward to are the worse period to pass. It would be better if I have spare cash. No news for job applications. Days sped as I whacked dramas night after night. Euro 2008 night after night. And slept days after days. I used to long for the days I can resume my RPG games on my PS2. Now that I am free to do so, I steer clear of them, because for the state I am in now, gaming would only subconsciously convince me that their world is the real world.

Next I hope for the days that I get employed again.

Solution always creates a new problem. Parts and parcels of life? I say life is a vicious cycle.

Quote from Sumiko Tan - Straits Times
When a dream comes true, you don't always get the happiness you thought would come with it; Happiness is not something you can feel every moment of the day; Happiness comes in small doses, so just be grateful for that; It's pointless to wish for a Big Happiness because it won't happen; Perhaps happiness is overrated.

Vindicated

The time bomb went ticking away the moment I clicked connect. The grumpy cpu had gathered a substantial amount of horsepower. The horses always appeared with a red exclaimation and then introduced themselves as trojans. Within moments all went black, soon to be followed up with varieties of vulgarities and hand signals each time it happened. It was not before this new set of computer sits before me that the 2.5 years of fustrations have finally come to a halt. The time bomb was a strong deterence for me to even log on to clear my emails. So I turned to clearing my mails from the letterbox. The May issue of Courts promotion brochure had laid inside for almost a month. The unintented act of browsing through the catalogue soon led me to the nearest Courts store, and for being unemployed, this only means I need to clear my IPPT with a Gold next month for the subsidy.

Delirious with the widened screen and the unfamiliar Vista format, I spent hours clicking, and as I opened my "favourites" folder, dust blew in my face and there I saw the mouldy words buried under algaes, "AMBiVALEncE in A LABYRinTH". There I read the past events of the boy whose frequencies I could not synchronise with at times. The 2 years gap has been vindicated, I thought.

In the past I strived to be a leader of life. But come to think of it, I am being unconsiously led by life instead. In the past the paths were clear ahead, even though distant, they ended with a stream of hopeful beams. However the paths seemed to take on winding ways with hardly any direction signs.

I browsed a few other blogs I used to visit years back. Most of them are inactive while some are still well maintained, as ever. Impressed with how some friends are displaying their days with pride, the feeling curve took a downturn to reach a point of melancholy.

I should stop here, to take a look at my surroundings.

Yes, my accounting notes are near me. There is a paper in 4 more days.

Choked

At least for the past 3 years, I recalled that my birthday wishes were identical. I foresee that I would have to wish the same wish for another decade or so. Anyway making wishes is just but a routine when a lit cake is presented to your face, and they never will come true by laws of nature, whether or not the content is leaked out to a second party. In the end it's still up to the individual to make it come true.

Consecutively, I have been receiving Marlboro lights as a gift since last year. And typically, they were not decorated with rotten throats or an alienated baby on the box. Last year was one pack from Ivan, this year was 3 packs from Lam, Indonesian and Malaysian respectively (not of the person).

School term has commenced, a full time student finally, who can enjoy student rates on weekday lunches. Work at Compass Point carries on, a full time salesman enjoying worker's welfare. There are a few links within the multi-tasking. I am able to pay fees via interest free instalment scheme, and able to claim from company textbook purchases required by school under the welfare system.

Sounds good, but

I feel fucking suffocated.

The Constant Factor

I've just watched The Truman Show.
Today is one rare early day for me.
My most recent 2.4km timing: 1 year older = 1 minute slower
I missed my mum's birthday, mother's day and father's day this year, without a wish.
I have not drawn for a year.
I talk to strangers almost everyday.
I'm starting school full time come August.
But I can't bid for my time table cuz I logged in late to see no slots left available. I'm still full time at work, but transferred out of Paragon.
Current location: Compass Point
I visited the dentist for the first time since after army 2 years back.
My last KTV was 3 weeks ago.
The last time I can sing like myself was 2 months back. Throat doesn't seem to recover fully.
My last soccer game was a month ago. It used to be daily.
My last match with Messina Greats was 3 months ago. It is a weekly commitment.
I spent majority of my active time talking to strangers.
At work, I am in the process of self discovery, and at the same time, losing my usual self.
I discover more flaws than pros.
I am still with me, just that I've lost my passions to life.
It was an unpleasant change.

Change is required to fuel the progress of life. The fuel burns an element called passion in the natural reaction. As a result, life goes on.

Need For Speed

At the sight of flashing lights one street away, I buckled up as though an office worker would maximise his page of excel to hide the minesweeper when boss came out of his office. Uncle cabby says, "road block again. Let's make a turn before the junction," and there he made a professional left negotiation to embark on the detour.

And cabby carried on with his cab talk, the trade when customers pay to entertain his driver. As I sat back calmly to immerse in the perfect match of indian-filled accent with jasmine aroma and hindu goddess pictures, I sensed an involuntary gradual rise in the rate of my heart beat. One not out of fear or panic, but that of adrenaline rush. Turning my attention to outside the window, I witness that the street lamps were already racing towards where we came from.

As we cruise through the empty yellow-lit highway, the imagined silence outside the car revealed the set in of the late night - so cool so relax. However, my heart beat never attempt to synchronise with ambience.

"One-forty", cabby blurps out suddenly, with a sense of cheeky pinch.

I rolled my eyes to the clock installed above the gearbox. "Uncle, now already 2plus lo."

He was silent for a moment, and he went, "one-sixty!" Now, with an obvious tone to show off.

My eyeballs rolled further to the right. The bigger and brimming clock was 4 o' clock - 5 minutes before the markings on the clock come to a blank. I awed a silent "woah" to myself, finally satisfied with the answer to the unexplained anxiety.

The retired Malaysian racer took less than 10 minutes to race me home from Ang Mo Kio to Woodlands.

Bed

Been on my bed for 18 hours.

While weeks ago i begged for boredom to bring me from away from lifeless work life, now on a rainy off day, I am corroding in the merciless hands of boredom.

The downpour, so soothing it cools the usually stuffy room, yet collabrated with it in the mission to dampen the soul named mood.

The melodious David Tao conveyed his concern over the speaker, but it did nothing more than to aggravate.

From dim daylight when shadow traces of raindrops reflects on my newly painted red wall, til evening do I attempt to defeat it by calling for companies.

It appeared the rest of the world is not bothered by it.

Shall I return to bed?

N . G . D

Nearest Girl Disease (NGD)- Deprivation stirred up due to long term exposure to loneliness, thus driving infected victim to a point that triggers involuntary
crushes to any decent enough lady that comes close enough within his social range.

The Five Brothers

Who bears the most resemblence?
	明道
	孙协志
	王建复
	蔡一杰

明道 on his first job after NS(2005).


孙协志 at his JC prom night (2002).


王建复 fooling around after 'A' levels (2002).


蔡一杰 celebrating Xmas while still with the army (2004).

From new people, I often received unwelcoming comments that I have a market-name. Over the years, I have taken in exclaiming comments indicating that I have a market-face.

Faded

Taken 11 Aug 2004 - before I got prepared to meet the peeps for my birthday celebration, I sat down and requested for a shot with him. He didn't and never knew it was my birthday. After activating the timer, I sat beside him, bearing in mind that this might well be the last, and one and only shot I have with him.

12 Nov 2005, dad woke me up at day break. As part of me still lingers in the other dimension - the wonderland- the air, the shine, the temperature, and the chirps, early morning never failed to greet me from the dimension of reality. However, despite the good start such mornings should render, something is really wrong.

Firstly, ever since working with the shop, beautiful morning is not a privilege anymore. The time is cruelly dedicated to the other dimension. Secondly, dad never wake me up. Everytime dad steps into my bedroom to talk, it would be matters so solemn and urgent that could wake me up better than soaking my face in ice cold water. Dad woke me up to the dimension of reality.

He broke the news, one supposedly to be heart-breaking and could bring one to a state of lost. Upon hearing it, a sense of peace rode along the morning breeze through me. As I inhaled the peace, dad said, "get prepared. We should be setting off for Malaysia by afternoon." We are going back to the hometown of grandpa in Malaysia, Pontian, Jelotong.

*****

The same morning, I decided that I should report to work for half a day. While the seemingly abrupt news had appeared expected to me, this coming half day with the shop puts an abrupt end to my assignment to West Mall. Like a new soldier who settled in, and got so gelled to his platoon, I was being pulled out to attach to other units on the frontline. So foreign, so alien. I was brought to the vanguard of the company - the Paragon.

*****

By evening, on board a black jeep coated with a sandy brown, I slept my way through the 3 hour journey beside the driver, blood-related instead of psychologically attached.

Slapping myself to the dimension of reality once again, ungreeted by the presentees, however by the two servants standing still by the bright house that shelters the frame of the man who once was the guardian to my upgrowing 10 years back. Beckoned by dad, I bypassed the flushed maid to the casket.

Though in deep sleep, the man looked much heartier than he was one month back, while struggling for every breath, lying on the sofa back at Woodlands Ring Road. Donned in the smartest coat I ever witnessed on him, he seemed at ease. Despite being housed underneath the thick glass panel, just one foot above the tip of his nose, that granted the least of air, it had magically eased him of the hardships in fighting for a next breath in the most spacious openess supplying an abundance fresh air.

His two golden-plated front teeth still sparkles in my mind.

It was almost a 6 good years ever since I last inhale the freshness that arose from the kampong soil. Even this time round, the air of burning incense saturated every corner of the open space, as if to remind me always that I am here on a solemn affair.


The durian plantation left behind from two generations back.


Not much help to prevent the invaders for every meal.

All but one building across the street, every other inch of soil and every piece of wood that constructed the shelter appeared to be unchanged as of 6 years back. Yellow was the theme of the village. Not one that would highlight the spirit of liveliness or joyful mood, the yellow reminds of wearing off, stained, and the antique. Across the street, the little coffee house, half the size of a stall, depicts the strongest definition of the yellow. The ceiling fan was freed of dust, apparently the shop was well maintained. But yet, the fan was yellow, leaving traces that it used to be white. The Suzuki scooter that drove in from the road left the same clue to the fading white. Even the boarish rider displayed evidence of yellow eyes and teeth, as he conversed in the native language - Teochew. This trip seemingly brought me back to the time when I wore 25" pants to frequent this village about yearly to receive ang pows in ringgits.


Bathroom

Four long days of kneelings, chants, prayers under the man-made shelter drew the curtain of a man who probably had time to ponder on the past 73 years. Staging Teochew-styled re-enactment of the Naihe bridge crossing, the modern monk sang an end to the 4-day ritual, before cremation.

I took a while to picture his last view, before the world turned black on him eternally. He probably saw the ceiling fan spinning aloft.

Stagnant . Peace . Indulge

Santiago Munez's father says to him, "there are two type of people in this world. There are the rich, and then there are the people who lawn and weed their gardens, like us."

It has been 3 years since I first felt the engraved impact of how wealth make a difference in almost everything. Throughout the years I have only but to sit back and look at the big picture and realise things haven't really changed for the better. Instead, it appeared more like getting used to it. I just happen to repeat the same issue time and again, like now.

*****

For months the 3 tenants had smoked and stinked the house. Lately, it was overwhelmed by an urine odour, not because of its stench, but the helpless anticipation that it carried along with. Anticipation of death. It is my first time to witness how a gradual dying seem like. We know every slightest thing is tough for him, even the air fights against his respiration. He gasped for air and coughs in his sleep. I have learnt how to differentiate when he is calling for me and when he is calling for the air. I did not feel much about it. It's just another dying process, like what I would say to my pals who went through the lost. I made it sounded easy for them, and it is easy for me now. I just do whatever I can help to what he wants. To me, death is the best way out.

Today, amid the "hi can I help you" job, I received 5 miss call from dad, and a SMS - pls cal me. I got distracted from work and predicted that peace have finally taken over his toment. Momentarily I felt lost and got mentally prepared as I called dad.

He told me he needed my IC number for some adminstrative issue.

*****

Yesterday was an off day. Including this particular afternoon, I spent 3 days finishing 50 episodes of Naruto. It was evening as I sat against the wall. A serious mood swing striked, which had probably evolved from the anti-social lifestyle, persistent financial issues, the reluctance to stay at home to face my loneliness and my frail grandfather, and the reluctance to leave him alone at home.

I chose to meet Robert. I planned to get a gift for May in town. On the train, I realised that my mood swing appeared contagious, I told Robert "I have lost my soul...", and advised him to go home as I proceeded on to town but only to realise the gift was already prepared by Kase. I stood amidst the neon lit street looking at passer-by. Fortunately I found Lam and Kase for company. I treated myself a rare indulgence with Ding Tai Feng dumplings, Kinder chocolates, Spinelli Brownies, Next Menthol Lights, Layers Chips, and movie "Goal" at Cineleisure. Though little, but bits and pieces of puny indulgence does wonders to heal the shattered soul. Also thanks to Lam and Kase, their company certainly drew a comfy end to my day.

No life, Live it

I probably have to give Jason, May, Jingsi and Carol's birthday party a miss. For Messina Greats, it is as good as hanging up my boots already. My regular KTV sessions ceased when I have to turn kakis down. All this for the new environment that I was fortunate enough to set my foot in, for the recruitment had stopped at the time I applied for the post.

1 life, live it. The motto does not represent the stand of the frontline sales staff.

I have been with the shop for 11 days. The handphone-technology dummy have to bear with the indigestion from the required product knowledge and all. Back at the interview, I emphasised my strength of being adaptive. Now I realise that it isn't mere words that can get me adjusted. The timing simply suck.

From attending parties, blasting KTVs, tugging at the soccer pitch, dinners and suppers with my 2 usual gangs, I found a drastic change to my past time. Since there is no companion during my free time, I found friendship in Naruto. Bro's dusty massive collection of animae could at least accompany me for the next few months. And I finally get to load my game of Final Fantasy X, last played in 2004. At the end of it all, the emptiness only seem to magnify.

On the bright side, this job offered a glimpse of hope for enrolment on the next SIM intake. The way to sustain throughout days in SIM (should it happen), would be to working 5 days a week with the shop, and 2 days full day in school.

Then I pounder on the irony. Intending to live a life, I have to sacrifice life only to make a living. For now there seems no clear definition to the line.

Shopper

How does it feel like to do intensive shopping?