I remembered a little story I read in Paulo Coelho's "Eleven Minutes". Somehow it struck me of late, and I decided to share it here. There seemed so many ways to look at this story, so I'll let you ponder =) share with me your little tale, if you wish to.

~~~~~

Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colourful, marvellous feathers. In short, he was a creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him.

One day, a woman saw the bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two travelled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.

But then she thought: He might want to visit far-off mountains! And she was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And she felt envy, envy for the bird's ability to fly.

And she felt alone.

And she thought: 'I'm going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again.'

The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap and was put in a cage.

She looked at the bird every day. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends, who said: 'Now you have everything you could possibly want.' However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The bird, unable to fly and express the true meaning of his life, began to waste away and his feathers to lose their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning out his cage.

One day, the bird died. The woman felt terrible sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contentedly amongst the clouds.

If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realised that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.

Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and Death came knocking at her door. 'Why have you come?' she asked Death. 'So yoy can fly once more with him across the sky,' Death replied. 'If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again.'

I actually woke up excited. Or nervous. Or frisky. Basically if I wake up before my alarm sounds, it usually means something is happening. Like exams or competition or whatever, something out of the ordinary.

I put on my nicely-pressed shirt and pants, and made my way down to the US Embassy on Napier Road, reaching outside the embassy at exactly 9.00am.

And I thought I was going to be early. Or at least on time.

There was a freaking queue outside the embassy in the morning sun, along the pavement of Napier Road. All for Visa application. Like what the hell.


"Ok-Clear-Go-straight-make-a-right-turn-and-you'll-see-the-room" He woke me up from my fantasy with a machine gun speed statement. I decided against saying "huh" and followed the directional signs.

And I was on American Soil.

Down the long passage I went, wondering why they haven't thought of shifting the security point further into the building so at least we can queue in the long passage way in this shade.

1) So I took a queue number.

2) Waited.

3) Called up for registration.

4) Waited again.

5) Noticing this group of stewardess and stewards wannabe looking people in the room. They probably are trainees or something, ladies with very heavy make up and lads with nicely combed hair. The height, built all matches. Scary.

6) Spotted Aloysus, at least someone to chat to! He's going for Masters.

7) Waited (did I mention that already?)

8) Called to the counter for interview (an anti-climax, I thought it was REALLY an interview)

9) Observed that I wasn't a terrorist-ish looking chap, asked some questions, took my fingerprints, let me go, without my passport ("Need processing" she says, not even looking at me)

And I was back on Napier Road, back on Singapore soil. But it's scary, the pressure inside, because there is this pressure for me to speak proper English, somehow, faced with all the American staff inside. I'm sure I almost slanged.

~~~~~

Well, I guess really. Bintan without a passport = Terrorist.

Have fun on my behalf guys =)

I woke up in a frenzy. You know one of those days when you wake up forgetting which day it is, and start to panic if you are late for an appointment.

Yeah, the holidays do that to you, or me in this case. Days and dates seem to elude me, and if not for Jo's consistent checks on her bidding results, I would really not have known the days.

It's like I couldn't recall which day it was that I bumped in Qionghui (and Chee Chian and Edwin and Chunyang and Jiayong.. basically University of Michigan haha) while I was having dinner with Chelsea at Kenny Rogers. Qiongz think it's scary that I know (almost) everyone at the table. I just think it's a small world.

And when I found out today IS NOT Wednesday and not the day of my interview at the US Embassy, I flopped back into bed. After all, the cool weather is too good to waste waking up.(what a bloody irony haha)

~~~~~

I spent most parts of the afternoon at Sim Lim, checking out prices for the following items to revive my other dying computer. If you have good lobang (second hand/ lower than the price stated, brands need not be the same), do not hestitate to call me up.

1) Motherboard plus Pentium 4 (looking at Foxconn with P4 2.4AGHz) at $294
2) 512MB DDR RAM at $88
3) Cheap LG monitor at $153
4) A freaking good graphic card to get my Battlefield 2 working (9600 Pro 256MB at $178?)
5) MP3 Player cum thumb drive (Creative MuVu V200 at $175) (!!!!)

C C Tan, appreciated your great advice =)

~~~~~

There was going to be Birthday Surprise at Curry Favour (@ Stamford House) for Jason in the evening, so I hanged around City Hall before H-Hour of 6.30pm, where we are supposed to appear, somehow.

And I spotted SMU in the distance. Couldn't bear miss the camera moment.

Cowen (who happened to be the poster boy for SMU when they did their publicity 2 years back. From then on, Cowen was known as "Be Different. Be Cowen") told me later in the night that the place was so spotless, not even paint marks. And I was commenting that the lack of banners made it look a lesser school. Oh well, I'll review my statements in say 2 years time. Think of the students strolling up and down Bencoollen Road in slippers and berms. Goodness. Think NUS Hall life in the middle of town!

Just as I thought that was going to be the coolest building in town, I spotted...

YEAH! The Central Fire Station! Is it pretty or is it pretty? *beams* with a cool colour effect all from my camera!

~~~~~

And so June Kiat could not make it for Jason's surprise dinner (due to practice and probably also due to The SMS: read all about it), and I found myself stranded as a minority. Look at the staggering statistics.

1) 1 out of the 2 non-medical students (there was ermm.. about 12 of us there). I nodded my head (together with Alex) as conversations of protein signalling and pathology was carried out. Yeah ok, cool. Great! uh huh.

2) Amongst the guys, the only non-GEP (Gifted Education Programme) RI guy. Alright, I've lowered the average IQ there. *laughs*

Jason failed the acting test which I've forewarned him about two days back. That silly boy. Undoubtedly the cutest, nicest, most gentle guy around, pack with a wonderful brain, hamster's smile, handwriting that'll trash a girl's anytime, strong tennis legs and nice sailing tan. Alright alright.. his handphone number is.........

Nonetheless, it was good to see familiar faces again. It almost felt like going to LT 1 for my Chemistry lecture (where my class attended together with the triple science people in RJ). We had a few catching up chats, on "where-are-you-now"s and "how's-life?"s, and more interestingly on monogamy and travelling around.

And as Jason makes his wishes and blows out the candle, another has joined the ranks of the 23 year olds. And for the first time in years, I wondered, what wishes could he have made.

But for that moment, I hope someone hears it and grant him his.

Of late, I have been awfully attached to my computer, and reading the so-called famous blogs around the web.

It has given me new courage, and new insights of course, almost like discovering another world out there. A world that dares to speak up more, a world that sometimes, image of uprighteousness is pushed out of top priority. And also a world of pure exaggeration.

Some write in all anonymity, borrowing the courage of a new persona, and deliver their stories, sometime more truthful than those who write with their names, who found that it may pay to be more politically correct and happier than to be controversial.

Some write for self-gratification. To be seen, read and commented on. To be praised and to see replies. To fulfill the greatness that Man desired so much, but unable to realise in real life.

Some write. To write.

To some, blogging is their life. And this I found amusing, but understandable. Almost like an King at the peak of his power, followers like a cult, that unseen influence and following is attractive. Who could resist the temptation of having people worship the blog you write on? Following the hacker incident into Xiaxue's blog, I could not comprehend why she is given a freaking half a page on the Straits Times (and she complains that if not for the London bombings, she would have gotten front page. Good Grief). Ok, I mean, yeah, hacking is bad, because it implicates all sorts of privacy stuff that you and I are so concerned about.

As much as I'm not a fan of her blog (sometimes amused, sometimes annoyed), I think she has courage, and lack of tact, and a large following. Plus good photoshop skills. Damn. But yeah, she has the right to be furious about being hacked into. It's awfully childish to delete someone's blog just because you can't stand what he/ she says.

You know what they say about freedom of speech.

"Freedom of speech means you have the right to remain silent"

Oh whatever *laughs*

~~~~~

Other blogs that I've been reading on recently. You know, I'm highly amused that even with blogs, there are ranking sites such as Hottest Blogs and Singapore Weblog Topsites. Like woah. Singaporeans have a serious lack of entertainment. I admit, me too. Damn.

Mr Brown - The famous Singapore blogger. Something lesser than a ST Interactive (but free!) Worth a read if you are interested in the dysfunctional Singapore.

Mr Miyagi - I start to wonder if people who write well add hokkien into their blog to make it more Singaporean-like, or it is that the hokkien makes it so much more readable to us. *laughs* I think I shall add some in my entries, and maybe more people will read it. Nah, I'll probably fail, as Michael told me last night, "you can't. Vulgarities are my perogative".

In the spirit of army days, KNNBCCB!!!

*waits for the gasp*

No point hiding. I was a hot-headed infantry officer who would not mind charging up the hill with my trusty M16 kicking a few make-believe enemies' asses, and when my noise-making, soot-creating bullets ran out, shouting "Bang Bang!" would kill my enemies too. Swearing gives you strength to be the man you never was. Sometimes. even for that little while. what's wrong with believing in a lie? for that little while.

Talk Rock - Since we are onto vulgarities already, Rockson is good at it. Read his entry on the NKF case. Those ok with the crude lingo will have a good laugh, and the more civilised, probably disgusted. I had a good laugh, so you have figured out which category I belonged to, no worries, I'm no hypocritic. First time I've seen a blog entry clock 853 comments (and counting).

Big F**K - Since we're at it, more mega-ego writers like this fella. This AhBeng-ism is getting to me. It's becoming more of a trend (for increasing popularity) than a societal problem. I suspect people like him write like this to make a statement and not truly a reflection of who they are.

I also suspect that the gahmen runs checks on the internet for the word "gahmen" to see who writes bad things about the gahmen. Gosh. That's 3 "gahmen"s in a statement. ok. make it 4. I've officially made it easier for myself to be hunted and called up for reservist.

But in all seriousness, I have always been supportive of the Government. We have owned them lots for all the stability and prosperity that we have taken for granted. How far should liberal measures go? If it were at the expense of stability? *shrugs* beats me. Life is fine, albeit boring and predictable.. but fine.

Sarong Party Girl - time to indulge a little into the little known sex scene of Singapore. Not truly, but more of the lives of models and the independents. When you start to wonder what those models on the papers do. Surely not 8-to-6 deskjobs, nor kitchen-scrubbing housewives. Then what?

Sash - "Sexual Mischief & Misadventures Of A Not-so-Sterile Singaporean", oh yeah, stories you heard of only via word of mouth. Why not read them? To be honest, I was a little skeptical of this, but it's simply amazing. The emotions more so than the sex.

Many more I have browsed actually, on this lazy monday afternoon. This WWW is amazing, and you just keep linking and linking and linking, read and read and read. Viola, I've just spent 2 hours blogging and reading and listening to music.

All while Jo is busy bidding for modules. And freshmen staring at awe at their new NUS Matriculation Cards. *laughs*

~~~~~

It actually feels good, to just write and write, as if I'm talking to this damn machine.

Bloggers all go through this phrase of wanting to end their blogs. Because they can no longer face up to their conscience with their writings, because it reaches a point when you can't be totally honest anymore. Because of your image, and because of some relationships. Because when you cared too much about what others think, you stifle your own freedom. Because you get tired from thinking too much on what others think or not think.

If I was to end this blog, you can be sure I'll start another one with an anonymous name.

We were born free and unjudged. A new persona, a new life would mean no past prejudices and no future condemnations to tie me to the conventions of blog-writing. If there was any to start with.

I just got home from 2 chalets in a row. It was only 2 days long, but I'm pretty exhausted.

Friday was well spent at Aloha Loyang with my Sec 4 gang (and some of Dirong's army friends), a pity Haoyong could not join us. I spent the night learning the finer art of mahjong, ever amazed by the zillions of rule that govern the game (and I thought I knew much!), tied with the many phrases of hokkien and singlish.

Never did not displaying my ignorance, but for the few times in life, I did not mind kena-ing the "buttering" by everyone, as my container of chips diminished in strength. As the "tai"s and "fan"s and "hu"s and "pong!"s continue to appear, I was even more amazed when Jeff volunteered to drink for the loser's behalf. ANY loser. ok. you figured. He just wants to drink. *laughs*

Aloha Loyang is huge! with like 4 bedrooms and average 2 beds per room. Yet amazingly, when we came back from supper from Jalan Kayu, there was not a room for us, and we had to squeeze in with 4 silly idiots (including the organiser who lured us there by promising us a room that night. oh well.) who were still playing mahjong and went on till 7am.

You know, there's nothing like a good supper and lots of chatting time with your "bestest buddies" (as quoted from my buddy Eugene, who was the English rep for our Sec 4 class.. yeah, it's starting to make sense isn't it?).

Xiaotian speeding (driving in the US means 120km/hr is too slow for you) down the TPE/ SLE passing Punggol on route to Jalan Kayu. The vision of a drunk driver. tsk tsk. at least he did not murmur nonsense this time *laughs*

Supper lasted till about 4am, and what do guys talk about when they meet up? Well, they talk about things that guys like to talk about, on life, love, girls, cars and relationships, and much more. And we managed to conclude that guys can be such bastards. Yeah, you heard it right first time, us not excluded.

I felt so at home and so at ease, as if that I could talk about everything that I would never have shared with anyone else then. I didn't want the night to end.

Dirong's battalion of friends turned up on the second day of the chalet, for the $8-per-head-but-under-catered buffet dinner, which I wasn't around cos I was at Jolene's Birthday Chalet (more on that later). I heard there wasn't enough food as Dirong underestimated his popularity (and overestimated the size of the chalet) when 60 people showed up, each trying to get a share of the food meant for 40 people. Impressively, there was a DJ as well with turn-tables and music. Dirong spent ages planning for this. *laughs* I love this class monitor, for without him, I doubt anyone would organise gatherings on this scale anymore. The best thing abt this chap is that nothing gets him down, like he is not discouraged by things not turning out well, and he'll defiantly says "it's not bad what". (for the guys who know.. remember Blair Witch Project? ARGH!!!!) Thus he is not afraid to plan and organise. Some of us, fear the failure of the outcome even before we approach a project.

Had yet another good conversation with Jeff on Sat morning, one that we never managed to finish. Some day bro, we will *smile*

~~~~~

Jolene's 21!

(photos later, cos they are all in Jolene's camera, which is still with her at the chalet)

Suffering from lack of sleep, my family shifted all the food and what not from the car to the chalet in East Coast Costal Sands.

Fetched grandma, carried the BBQ pits, arranged the place, collected the cake, friends came, fire starts, the party began! And I've officially concluded that I do not like being the star of any party, nope, no big scenes for me! The jumping around from cliques to cliques and entertaining them at different wavelengths is something only someone of Jo's PR calibre can handle. I'm more cut out for refilling the syrup container, cooking the steamboat, camera man, amat, buying ice, you know, making things tick, or the best I can do to make my dear sister's celebration smooth. Though there wasn't much to worry, haha, all the friends can pretty much take care of themselves.

But yet, for the first time ever since Jo came back, I had the time and opportunity to view her SEP photos running on her laptop for her friends to see.

Europe is gorgeous.

And then all you have to do to spoil the lovely impression is to stand up, walk out, and see like half the Singapore gathered in a silly chalet resort enjoying what we have deemed as the perfect weekend entertainment. I was telling Kath that if someone was to bomb us there and then, we would have lost a lot of July babies.

And somehow, I'm starting to feel that my driving license is no more than my dad's license to drink! oh damnit. Once driving is a novelty and one of those show-off factor, but as you grow, it becomes more and more of a burden, when you learnt that driving tires you out.

At the end of the night, we packed up what was neccessary and left Jolene alone with her friends for the weekend. I'm sure she'll enjoy herself!

~~~~~

So many painful stories all round. So many. And yet I feel guilty, at not having enough strength to help my friends.

Sometimes it's the nights. Too empty, too quiet, too dark.
Too easy for the mind to wander.

Sometimes I wish that telling my friends to shout "F#*%! the world!" and then try to get some sleep would be good advice. And sometimes it helps, because we just feel so vindicated. Sometimes it doesn't, because the pain we suffer goes beyond our naive knowledge of this world and its worldly emotions.

There is much to learn from life experiences, from others even more than from self. Having someone to listen to you is a joy; but being given a chance to lend the listening ear is simply joy fourfold.

Take care all you guys. I'll be here.

How's that for an attention grabbing blog entry title? *laughs*

But strangely enough, as a msn nick, it has triggered many an interesting chat.

~~~~~
r]-[ : how true, depression is the embodiment of beauty itself
r]-[ : tragedies sell
K: why not? =)
K: people love a bad story or two
r]-[ : people who are depressed like to see tragedies that are worse than their own so they can tell themself, ok, its not that bad after all
K: OR
K: people like to think that their depression stems from the worst thing ever, like "no, you can't be any worse than me"
K: even in tragedies, people like to claim first

~~~~~
K: people like being depressed sometimes, oddly
J: makes us appreciate the good times more I guess... and depression allows us some time for ourselves... to reflect... to mope and to refocus I guess =)
K: sometimes it pays to be a little heartless
K: the fainter at heart always lose out anyway
J: =) so how do I move on without moving on?
J: it's when you have time to yourself that it gets really quite miserable. and you don't really want to articulate it cos you don't really feel others are too bothered about what they see is a pretty much a natural occurence
J: and ya... by convention you're just expected to move on... some how...

~~~~~
I guess in an odd way, depression is attractive because it brings people together in common suffering. People love to be comforted and people love to comfort.

I can probably deal with my own depression periods, but I figured that I'm probably a lousy person to try help deal with another's depression. I've not gone through enough in my life, to be an expert in such dealings, and sometimes, I seemed to make matters worse.

It's like something I've always told my scouts. That if you have never gotten a sprained ankle before, you'll never know how to treat someone or to comfort him with a sprained ankle. Because you never knew that pain.


And sometimes depression comes when you take things too seriously. When you start to feel that nothing you do is ever going to be good enough. When the source of all dissatisfaction is your own self. Depression is also highly contigious, and in high dosage, it can even upset another person.

To the depressed. Have you ever felt dissatisfied about the way you are being consoled? That you actually hoped for someone to do some specific actions? Like to leave you alone or to hold you hands and listen to you etc etc. And do you feel disappointed if the actions weren't as you expected? Like if you say "leave me alone" but actually meant "no, stay with me", and the other person took you literally and left. And just because he/ she listens to you, you get more disgrunted and depressed, and you think no one cares, no one understands.

Good grief, then say what you mean and mean what you say! Take nothing for granted, else you end up hurting another.

~~~~~

I'm probably starting to get worried and paranoid. With just a month plus a few days more before I fly, my flight is not even confirmed. My accomodations too, at Irvine, is still "pending approval". Yet everything else seems in place, with all my very kind friends helping me out with accomodation and showing me around in their various states, and it's just that my timings are just so unconfirmed.

I hate imposing on my friends, people like Xiaotian, Michael, Dirong and Alex who has been so kind in letting me stay with them or to drive me around (Alex has a new Ford for US$3,600!) while I'm touring before my school starts, but yet I know it is exactly what I'll do for my friends if it was the other way round. But still... you know that sickening feeling.

But yet I'm sitting on it still. Still in a limbo perhaps. Still wondering if leaving was a good idea after all. Still feeling a bit unsupported.

I can't please everyone.
The least I can do is not to let myself down.
Not to let a dream of 6 years just vanish.

Us. Engraved in the sands of time.

~~~~~

Finally, I'm free to roam.

This harsh world is in need of such a enchanting fairy tale.

Every lover is in his heart a madman,
and in his head a minstrel.

ahh, I shall not spoil the story for you by giving a summary or the likes, but all I can say is that from the beginning till the end, Gaiman has brought me on a tour within the realms of the faerie, and told me wise tales in lyrical prose from the world of fantasy. Told me of a man, just like any of us, who went off to seek his Heart's Desire, but only to find it in another form; and maybe that's us too, not truly knowing what we really desire.

Life can be a fairy tale too. It can end with "happily ever after" too. If you believe in it.

~~~~~

And oh. Happy Birthday buddy Tinkie =)

I've been ill, in bed and clocking up disgusting amount of sleep ever since A Very Special Walk 2005 ended yesterday. Even now, my throat has this horrible taste to it and my neck is aching, dying to rest that heavy head its carrying on the ever-so-inviting fluffy pillow. Occasional coughs interrupt my typing, and deep breaths taken to control my wheezing.

And when this happens, details somehow got really mixed up in your head. A little here and some there. But in all that randomness, I would try to convey some straighten thoughts here.

First of all, I'm so glad that the Walk was finished ever so smoothly, a great thanks to everyone who has really committed their time and energy to this charity event.. Rainbow Centre, Autism Resource Centre (Pathlight School), and of course not forgetting the old boys and current scouts of Raffles 01 Scout Group! (That sounds really political huh?) But really, the key personnel has worked so hard for this event, that it almost made me feel guilty about the small part I play in the last goodness know how many months.



Well, it's no big secret that I'm never a big fan of big-scale charity events that worked on calling in basis, but I gues I'm just too big a skeptic. Like, if you can offer $250,000 for a prize, surely that can simply go into charity? Using money to attract more money seems highly business-like. But the important thing is always to look at the root of the situation, and to have the heart for the purpose. And one MUST really get down and be with the affected, be it patients or kids with autism... and you can really feel the joy when they start dancing or learning something. A parent cried when she saw her boy dancing correctly to the beats of the music during one of the performance. The teachers cheered and their faces were rewards in themselves. One father cheered her daughter as she managed to tie her shoelaces during the process of the walk. Many of the staff of these schools turned out to be parents of kids with similar problems, and this is what touched me the most.

So all the planning accumulated in one single Walk. And A Very Special Walk 2005 it was called. Money raised will be used to support projects to integrate students with autism into mainstream society. Pictures of the event can be found in my photo album here.

ok, enough with boring stuff. haha. the interesting bits coming!

1) hmm, first of all, I was the driver of a cool mini-bus (top left hand corner of pic above) for the 2 days of the event! definitely proved that I deserved my driving license when i managed to parallel parked it in two attempts! Besides all the few embarrassing moments when the engine stalled, I must say it was a fun drive!

2) And I've also told myself to stay away from goody bags for a long time to come. 1000 goody bags!!!! Not a joke to transport I tell you, or to even store; we basically took up the entire hall stage in the school to put all the goody bags before transporting them to Marina City Park.

3) I've fallen in love with taking pictures of kids. Kids tying their laces. Kids glancing out of their tiny buggies. Kids staring at you when you're taking photos of them. Kids waving. Innocence makes the perfect photo moment.


And so everything went on smoothly. Walkers coming in. People smiling and laughing. Weather perfect; the sun was beautiful the way it light up everything. Scouts in scout uniforms. Group Flag standing tall. Old boys talking about the good old days in 70s RI (yeah, that old). Chee Hau and Mark came to visit and we had batch lunch together. Stores returning was tiring.

It was a good way to start a Saturday.

If only I hadn't fall sick after that. sigh.

~~~~~

And Friday was Chelsea's Commencement! Graduation! and away from school!

As the many many new graduands stepped forward to receive their empty scrolls, I start to wonder how the Pro-Chancellor managed to sit through all these, for a week or so, 3 times a day, a factory production of NUS Graduates.

The ushers getting more efficient with their roles, even the balloons that float down at the end of the ceremony was planned to the second. And I was the most disappointed to note that there wasn't any cap throwing =( whatever happened to good old traditional cap throwing? Many photos were taken, but no tears were shed, hugs were missing.

But I'm comforted at the thought that it wasn't any better in the US. Lixian told me that in some universities, the Dean just called the Faculty and everyone stood up and be acknowledged that they have graduated. Like woah. Many people skipped it (I couldn't believe Lixian was in Japan at that time of her graduation ceremony!)

And I was in shirt and tie. Amazingly. I should have known that not all Singaporean guys will come in shirt and tie, even if the invitation card says so.

I've fallen into backtracking again, with all the excitements of Jolene returning home from Sweden, visa-application, SEP study plan approval, flights planning, A Very Special Walk 2005 planning..

But oh yes, Jo has been back since Monday! Simply amazing, but it has been two days and I'm starting to feel that she has never left at all! Sounds like what Xiaotian told me when he came back from US for the hols too, that it seemed that he has never left. Oh well, life in Singapore can be pretty stagnant i guess =p changes occur constantly, in its visible and intangible forms, but being able to catch up within short periods, is simply the magic of true bonding.

~~~~~

I take back my word about life being stagnant. haha. there's Neil Gaiman! And there's IOC! (conveniently suspicious, these two events, as qiongz would probably have told you if you met her, especially now that we know London got it)

But seriously, British humour never fails to crack my day. Neil Gaiman rocks! (and coming from a rookie fan, you got to believe me) For the details, refer to qiongz's entry. I think she remembers more about what Gaiman says than what her textbooks writes. I'm not so good with details, so I'll just comment shortly. He's good looking (Charissa says gorgeous.. and well.. I would use cute and gorgeous on him in his younger days.. guess what British booze did to him), and more importantly, intellectually funny. His references cracked me up, and made me forget about the screwed up flooding (in cineleisure, imagine that! the air-con broke down i think) and the try-to-act-important-but-very-irritating-till-the-point-that-Charissa-and-qiongz-want-to-beat-him-up host called Han Shih (if i even remember his name, you know either something is terribly right about him... or terribly wrong.)

So anyway, back to the star of the show. Gaiman, yes, fantastic. Check out mirrormask. No Tom Cruise or Julia Roberts, but I'm pretty sure it'll be worth a watch. for the funny bits of his talk, you can again refer to qiongz entry since I don't think I can do any better *laughs*

And then he signs books! Like his life depended on it. seriously, he has to be armed with all sorts of different pens for different types of books (comics, to novels to graphic novels). And i brought along American Gods and Good Omens, both fantastic books I assure you. Charissa had some problems choosing her comics, wondering if it will ruin firstly the art, and secondly the value by including her name =p And pics of the signing coming up now! Starting from the most hardcore fan amongst the three of us... to the rookie me!



For American Gods, he wrote "Believe!" and for Good Omens, he wrote "Burn this book!" in great hilarious fashion.. now leaving Terry Pratchett to give it the final punchline.




but the nicest was still the star he did in qiongz's book.. darn =p

After the whole thing ended, Charissa and I picked up a copy of Stardust. Gosh, I must have somehow got influenced by Charissa's (almost disgusting =p) amazing spending mentality. I think I'll go broke on Sandman. =p

We also bummed into Promoter Toh Shi Ling along the way, rather unfortunately, and I had to make her talk to my hand. *grin* haha. Before we finally realised that the three of us haven't taken a pic together!

~~~~~

Monday dinner was dedicated to Jolene, so we had good old hawker fare. Singapore food is a delight!

~~~~~

Tuesday saw me going to school to do all the SEP stuff. And it was somewhat serene when I visited the archery range at noon, to find ZT, ZC, HT, Imy and CK shooting. Serene because I did not have my bow there, and I can really just squat there and watch. I won't deny that my hands were itching to hold the bow and shoot, but I know that I would have to reconsider priorities then. Just for the week or two. And I know, letting it all go isn't simple. As much as I want it to be simple.

it's often sad how all these good memories would have to be tarnished by a few bad ones.

~~~~~

I have also, a bad habit for screwing up my life. One of those strange ways of stiring it up when everything was going just fine.

Silly stuff.
sometimes when you stick your oar into the water to find out how deep it is
you forgot that the sand that has settled will rise again.

This was written some days ago, somewhat inspired, so noted in my ever handy hangphone immediately. When more appropriate to blog? Then the day before I see Neil Gaiman in person.

~~~~~

It is one of those days.

One of those where I stumbled between wakefulness and sleepiness.

Couldn't remember the time that passed, nor the times in-between.

The moments I successfully stole away from Sleep, I caught a glimpse of time, but soon after I was caught by Sleep again. And the next time I managed to execute the same runaway trick, I tried, again, to catch the time, hoping to note how much has passed me by. Only, to realize I couldn't even remember what the last time was, the one I was supposed to remember after a glimpse. Sleep caught me again.

In-between these moments, in-between two worlds I staggered, a ping pong game between Sleep and Wake. Couldn't make out which is recalled fantasy, and which is recalled reality, just a whirlwind of mixed memories.

Dreamless sleeps and notionless wakings, it almost seemed that the mind was too dull to work, too slow to register, too tired to rebel.

And I'm glad for window panes, the only true reflection of time and sanity. The only proof that time has passed. As the Day pass by and Night takes over, the panes switches from window to mirror, because the light changes from being brighter outside to being brighter inside the building. If you could look into a window pane the whole day, you would see your reflection forming, slowly, as Day runs out.


Gods of the past, the ancient, the natural has won the battle. Against Gods of the present, the new, the digital.

As his chariot rides across the sky, I can almost hear Apollo sniggering at my blue G-shock.

I rose at 7, shaking off that last remnants of slumber. as the daub of daziness starts to clear, i remembered, that today was the kind of saturday i used to have. well, almost.


after the morning rituals of brushing my teeth and the likes, i slipped on my berms and an old scout t-shirt (one of my all time fav shirt, bought in 1995. it is as old a scout as I am.), which fitted ever so seemly. ahhh, maybe they no longer make t-shirts like they used to. or maybe, that the comfort is not provided by the material, but by the intangibles. of affection, of memories, of passion.

so many roles we play in life. and so many saturdays it has been, that I have been an archer. moments cherished definitely, but as my mind wanders into the vaults of time, I found, that there are moments I have missed much.

After a quick breakfast, I was off to Rainbow Center for one last final meeting before the charity event actual on 9th July. I was early, then again, I never liked to be late. I had the time to enjoy a cup of Teh-O at the coffeeshop besides Queenstown MRT, afterwhich hanging around to see all the scouts coming, gathering and falling in, while waiting for June Kiat to arrive.

it's amazing, to just see and think that for years after years after years in the last 70 years ,our scouts have been falling in for their activities. In many ways scouting has changed, but in essence, scouts will still be scouts, just as boys will be boys. =)

The meeting itself was just.. a procedure? Well, no doubt it ironed out issues that needed to be, but what is more important to me at least, is how it is actually run on the ground. Situational awareness, as I would like to call it. people-manage, and not paper-manage. but no matter what, i'm still hoping for the best =)

even as i'm typing now, i couldn't help but open my wardrobe and glance fondly at my scout uniform. badges are but pieces of cloth, but yet each represent so much experiences and memories. symbols. and isn't that what people believe in? there wasn't really a need for something real, physical. just a symbol, and the belief lives.

Nothing left to offer, but a photo from the good 'O days.