Oranges

It is the duty of every generation of writers and artists to find fresh ways of expressing the habitual circumstances of the human condition.

Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it different.

So the past, becuase it is past, is only malleable where once it was flexible. Once it could change its mind, now it can only undergo change. The lens can be tinted, tilted, smashed. What matters is that order is seen to prevail... we have to know what we are doing, pretending an order that doesn't exist, to make a security that cannot exist.

There is an order and a balance to be found in stories.

-Jeanette Winterson

I saw some oranges today. And it reminded me of these words, from the past, kept in the realm between two states of consciousness and memory.

I also heard a saxophone quartet, playing Henry Mancini's works, the harmony of music a wall of calm and comfort.

I watched the little baby girl beside me watch them. Her eyes met mine momentarily and in those big dark brown eyes, I snatched a glimpse - only an instant - of pure wide-eyed- amazement, surveying the world... where behind lurks a growing, struggling perception. She smiles and looks radiantly happy, oblivious to life in the innocence of childhood.

I photographed that moment in my mind.

I felt envious. But only slightly. Reluctantly.

Movement

I spent the last fifteen minutes staring at my orange lava lamp, which I brought home from England this Christmas...

I haven't used it for some time... and it still amazes me everytime I look at it - the randomness of the movement of the coagulated balls of pseudo-lava so pure, so random but so beautiful in its moving simplicity all at the same time...

In an indirect fashion, the mechanics of my lava lamp sort of reminded me of the recent movement of the earth that's caused the earthquake and tsunamis that's destroyed so much of Asia on Sunday....

Thinking back, three months ago from this day, I was making plans to go to Phuket or the Maldives with X around this time.... vaguely sometime in December. But obviously life works in mysterious ways because that never worked out and now maybe that choice was my salvation in a very twisted way.

If I did go however, my accident might never have happened. And my mum wouldn't have to fork out $4,000 plus in repair costs to fix the car. (Yes, ouch. We found that out today when we sent the car to B Motors - stupid money-sucking bastards) They insisted we had to replace the left door, the left side bumper, cut the left panel of the car in half, weld a new rear left to the left panel... and all that was gonna cost this much. And this does not even include if we were made to pay for the other party's claims as well... I feel irreparably bad about the whole thing... I bought her a bouquet of roses to cheer her up today and she loved it...
But considering I'm gonna fly back this Saturday, my poor mum will have to suffer the loss of a car for two weeks, no daughter to deal with the police, and obviously no one to help release her frustration via reproach.

In a way, I can't wait to return. Besides missing England, this holiday has proved to be far too costly. I just want to escape from general unpleasantness... which is what I'm famous at doing when something happens which I don't want to deal with - I turn and walk away.
For clarification, that's not abandoning, or being evasive, of which I have been previously accused of doing - That's just leaving things to cool before facing it again when I'm more equipped to deal with it.

I received quite a sobering Christmas card from Jo - on the cover, it read:

God
raised Jesus
from the dead
whom you had killed
by hanging him on a tree.
God exalted him as Prince
and Saviour that he might give
repentance and forgiveness of sins.


The above words were centralised in the shape of a Christmas tree. I read the first five lines while sitting on Q's steps, waiting for him to send me home at 4ish in the morning. It was startingly disturbing to be told I had 'killed someone and hung him on a tree'. 'You' was an obvious reference to humanity in general and on the inside of the card it says these words are taken from Acts. But y'know, despite being a self-professed Christian, I don't agree those are necessarily the best words to startle someone into gratitude or belief.

Watched National Treasure with my family today - nothing much to say bout it except it's a typical Hollywood blockbuster with rare good moments. But as Jose says, even the shittiest film has 5 minutes worth of good stuff in it (was it 5 minutes or 5 seconds?) which we learn something from. If there was any mental stimulation on my part, it came from keeping up with the American historic names... oh, that and trying desperately to recall the name of the actor who played the bad guy Ian... which, after nearly two hours of agonising, I finally remembered as Sean Bean who also played Boromir in LOTR.

Saw the trailer for Jim Carrey's latest film Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events and it looks oh-so-bad, not that I'm being judgemental. But he should stick to stuff like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind which he was brilliant in.

Looks like many things are sinking new lows.

Christmas Weekend

I have tried this whole weekend, to put the rather unfortunate incident behind me... and succeeded somewhat. Only now, as I'm going to bed on Sunday night.. I know I'm going to get calls I don't want to get, and have to do things I don't want to do, starting tomorrow morning. So I'm taking a pause right now to savour the last moments of my Christmas joy.

Christmas Day began alright... I was meant to play for mass, but somebody else requested to play so instead, I cantored at mass for the first time in the longest time ever. I forgot how it felt to stand at the altar and sing in front of hundreds of people... everytime I made a slight mistake I felt like I was being judged by that hundreds... which is probably an unfair assumption on my part (or not, I don't know).
Mass could have been so much better. The keyboardist was tentative, we couldn't hear the music accompaniment.. and the choir was almost going a whole tone flat. I was cringing inwardly at the musical imperfection but diplomacy relegated me to suffer that imperfection in silence. It really wasn't all that bad - but for a Christmas mass, I felt like it was such a let-down. It wasn't that the music wasn't good.. it just wasn't confident enough. And it makes such a difference to have that confidence and general upbeatness in the music because it plays such a crucial role in leading a mass.

I then came back from mass for my traditional Christmas Day Extended Family Lunch Gathering... I haven't seen my cousins and relatives in ages - but it felt the same. We were playing, this time not with our toys, but with my youngest brother's toys (to humour him)... while watching hilarious chinese films starring Stephen Chow, the 4th Golden Horse Awards (Chinese equivalent of the Oscars award ceremony) and the likes. My cousins were mocking my rusty Mandarin skills and general lack of knowledge for the film stars (I kept asking who was who).. but honestly, I hate celebrity news. It's not just I don't watch Chinese films all that often now. I did make it a point however, to make a mental note to myself to do some research on the industry... it's quite ironic for a film studies student not to have knowledge of the second biggest film industry (after Bollywood - yes, Hollywood is third largest, contrary to expectations) and even worse that all film academia have been largely concentrated on European and American cinema, when this industry has been sorely neglected - in terms of academic studies written in English, at least. I'm so glad we're doing at least one film from this industry for next term's Aesthetics.. I am immensely looking forward to listening to what Jose would have to say about Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love .. and I will be the only one who won't have to read subtitles!

(Just fyi, I realised that Andy Lau is like the oriental equivalent of Pierce Brosnan. Sexier and more charming...with age. Tony Leung doesn't seem to have ripened with age in the same way... but all this is subjective.)

Met with the girls to watch Phantom of the Opera at night... all I could think about during the film was Richard Dyer's essay on 'Entertainment and Utopia', mapping the film theories onto the film. I had to consciously stop myself from thinking of it and just taking the film at face value - I'm seriously never going to enjoy anything remotely frivolous if I keep doing this. And then I remembered the MEP (Music Elective Programme) days back in MG when we took a module called Phantom of the Opera (yes, there was such a module) where we actually sat around training to sing the songs from the musical. Fond, amusing memories of the pure innocent frivolity of youth.

Group of us then went round to Q's where everyone gathered - I met Abby again after two and half years of not seeing her (can you believe it's that long?) - the last being August 2002 when I sent her off at the airport. We were almost in proper tears as we screamed and hugged each other (okay, Abby screamed, I half-screamed)... it had been far too long a time. The whole group of us spent the whole night until almost 4 in the morning just drinking, eating and watching the stars while having general catching-up conversations about everything and anything. I love it when you've not seen a friend in ages, but when you meet again to talk after the longest time, that connection which once bound you as friends is still there in the deepest, most intangible, but most comforting fashion. It was lovely.

I slept at 5, got up at 9 to play for mass today, which was good. Then attended a wedding dinner tonight. I was initially really excited about going for it as I haven't attended a proper dinner in ages... but then, after going for it, I remembered why I haven't attended one in ages.
I've forgotten how tedious a ten-course Chinese wedding dinner could be. I could easily write a list of the ten definite things that will happen at such an event, with relatives making the most typical of conversations that never seem to be outdated with time.
Amidst renditions of cheesy love songs in the background, the screening of a 'love-video' made for the newly-wedded couple, the long-Oscar-like-thank-you-speeches (made both in English and Chinese), and waiting almost three hours for a 10 course dinner to be served at half-hourly intervals, I couldn't decide if it was reluctant affection or mild contempt I had for the whole rigmarole at the end of the day.

All in all, I think I had a rather fulfilling weekend - quality friends and family time.

And it has been ages since I've had the luxury to sit down and write out any events as detailed as what I've written so far.

Not-so-merry Christmas

In all my years of driving, I met with my first car accident today.

It was a horrible experience, details of which I cannot publish until the investigation is complete...

But it has totally ruined my Christmas... what started out as a short trip to pick up Christmas cards turned out to be a horror of waiting around, taking statements and feeling absolutely terrible.

Money will have to be spent, time wasted... and general unpleasantness experienced.

So many 'if only's surface in my mind now... but nothing good ever comes out of contemplating the if onlys.

I attended Christmas vigil with my family tonight... it was so beautiful in church.
The lights were dimmed... the Christmas candles were burning. The choir was singing beautiful carols, while the procession began with the priest walking in. I was so sad and so touched all at once. I wished I was back there, but I was also thankful that I was here - spending Christmas with the ones that mattered to me.

In the end, I thanked Him I was still alive - to be able to attend Christmas mass. Things could have been worse and I might not have made it.
But I did.
Putting things in perspective, all things happen for a reason.
It does not eradicate that horrible unpleasantness lurking at the recesses of my mind - thinking about the tedious reports and hassle I'll have to go through in the next week - the week before I fly back, the last week of the year - but at least I have the comfort of knowing that somehow in the end, He will make things alright.

J once said religion was a form of escapism. I said it was an unspeakable peace. Maybe it's both. But it doesn't matter... I'm just thankful for it.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Me and my bizarre day

I had the most bizarre day...

1. I parked my car today at a random lot.. to realise that two cars away, was my dream car.... none other than an orange lamborghini exactly as pictured in my mind. I've never seen one in this country before and it was as stunning, if not more, than I had imagined it to be. Classy, classic orange. Beautiful. Sleek. To die for.

2. I was roller-blading this morning at the Botanic Gardens and I saw this caucasian man with a shaved head pushing a trolley with a toddler. Several hours later and several miles away, I drove out of Grand Plaza Hotel and stopped at a zebra crossing... that same man walked across in front of my car pushing that same trolley with the same toddler.

3. 10 minutes later... I was driving and my mum suddenly said, ooh that car beside us has exactly the same number on its plate as we do on our car.

4. I was lounging in the spa room today when I randomly picked up a mag, which I don't usually ever read... and land on a page where X is featured among many in this article, which had to do with me which I don't want to elaborate here.

5. In a stupid coincidence, I happened to be talking to an old friend about X earlier that morning.

6. I reach home and turn on my UK mobile, and P, whom I haven't properly spoken to before the summer, and only briefly met once from then till now in november at a party, texted me to ask if I was in london, or home, for Christmas.

Series of coincidences?
I might buy the lottery tomorrow...

Again

You know after flying in and out of somewhere often enough.. there's a certain routine you start to establish.

Going through the customs, buying duty-free alcohol, preparing for the onslaught of warm, humid air, getting your luggage, getting in the car, hugging your family, calling those privileged few on your journey back from the airport, absorbing the changes that have taken place physically, noticeable only by you, unpacking of luggage, bringing out the goodies, changing your wallet, calling more friends, taking a shower...

And then in the next few days, you do exactly the same as what you'd do the last time you came back - sleep loads, fight the jet lag, eat local food, drink local tea, try and switch back to speaking the local lingual (if you don't want to be laughed at by your brothers - and friends, at that), talk loads, start meeting people, go out drinking, have supper at newton, visit the same places, go to church, play for mass...

Suddenly it feels like you've never left at all.

My uprooting didn't feel quite as bad this time - I guess it's probably because I'm only back for two and half weeks; so it feels like I'm on a short-term holiday more than living the alternate reality of my double-life that straddles two countries.

I was absolutely exhausted by the time I reached home. I had to struggle to get two 5,000 word essays over with at end of term. The second of the two I completed by running an all-night marathon again (see falsity of previous post about NEVER doing essays last minute again) on sunday night and didn't sleep a wink - not even 5 seconds. Lasted till Monday night, slept for a few hours - got up, packed, sent the snail-mail part of my MA application, went to the coach station, went to Heathrow, attempted at doing half an essay at the airport, took a 13 hour flight home, touched down, went for dinner... and resumed doing another two 1000 word essays for my MA application which was due 12 midnight Dec 15 - Sg being 13 hours ahead of New York, I had time advantage on my side. After a horrendous sleep-deprived journey, I continued my conscious nightmare deep into the very same night I landed - and only finally got my autobiographical essays done at 6am in the morning, after re-writing about 10 times and still being dissatisfied with it, only to realise I'll never be satisfied with anything I wrote that had this much weight. How can anyone think a life can be summarised by a couple of thousand words! In some strange twisted way, my two short 1,000 word essays were even more excruciatingly painful to write compared to my massive 10,000 word essays. It's a different sort of torture - but both equally agonising.

When I physically witnessed the words on my screen which said: 'Application submitted' - I was so relieved and happy and felt like crying I was at a loss for words. I don't think I've ever forced myself to be so sleep-deprived and acutely conscious at the same time. When I finally collapsed in my bed at 6am that thursday morning, I actually couldn't sleep when I thought I would be out in a mere split second. But my mind was actually thinking so much, stressing continuously, living on caffeine and nicotine... that when the time came for it to stop working - it just wouldn't. I could feel the state of mental activity buzzing in my mind.. it took ages to mentally will myself to shut it down. And then I was truly out. Even the neighbour's drilling and banging and knocking didn't do more than rouse me for a momentary lapse of consciousness.

There's no better term for the aftermath than the word - recovery.
Everything's starting to pick up and resume it's normality now... and that's when I had the time to pause and think - about all that's changed and unchanged.

And that same old conflicting feeling revisits me again - how we can be so absolutely convinced about a certain feeling at a certain moment, so wishful for things to stay the way it was in that past... and how things have progressed since then - and you realised that wasn't what you absolutely wanted, although you felt it then. Which emotion is truer, I can't say. For did you really believe it then, or did you only think you believed it then - if that was the case, does it matter the extent of how much you believed it, when all that counts is that you did believe it before anyway?

Life works in mysterious ways... just because you believed something once..and someone else believe you believed it too... does not make you a sham when you find that you've changed your mind. It's never easy, all it depends is which side of the story you're in - and when you've been assigned your lot, accept it. If only the acceptance came without baggage or pain or unpleasantness... life would be such a whole lot better.
I was not bothered.
But now I find, actually, I am.
Slightly.
But that still counts, doesn't it?
We have to give our stories our dues.
Before time causes it to fade...and morph into multiple forms, moulded by re-memory and perception, that might not have an accurate semblance to the truth.
But all memories are only versions of truth.

There is no real truth...
Is there?

Rite of Passage

I'm flying home in a few hours time.

And touching ground on 15th Dec, 1855 hours.

I know... Finally. my flight has been postponed three times and it's postponed no more.

This week has been such a mental week... there's no way I could articulate my exhaustion. So as I take off on another one of those rite of passages, yet another chapter closes and another one opens. And the uprooting process shall begin again...

I am looking forward to a sunny christmas....
With my heart left behind.

"I'd love to share me with you..."

You know sometimes it's not that I don't want to write, it's just there's just so much to write that I don't know where to begin and I get tired even before I start.

So here's my solution.

In fragments..

I survived the worst essay hell, have been partying so much since then it's atrocious how lightly I take the suffering I'm going to go through for this next one due by the end of the week when I obviously know that I should have started sooner.

Went ice-skating for the third time at the Skydome for E's birthday - it's a good number. Many are ice-skating virgins or only been there once. I changed my skates bloody three times before I got a decent one that
1. wasn't too big
2. didn't eat into my feet
3. actually had friction on the blades so I wouldn't be sliding and slipping every five seconds with my legs turning outwards like a twat.

so I got quite into the groove.. and started trying fancy things like spinning round and skating backwards... only to fall about three times (quite gracefully) but that is now showing rather (unbeautifully) on my kneecaps. I've got two huge purple bruises on my knees that surpassed the ones that I ended up with at Equinox when I puked five times and got carried out and woke up in the morning with bruises too. These ones are actually almost as big as a whole cd. I look like I was born with purple knees. Not feeling terribly sexy about it at the mo..

They're clearing up though - just in time before I go home, hopefully. If not my mum is gonna think I'm being abused.

Life is full of surprises - people turn up when you least expect them to and you learn something new everyday.

1. I had someone ** my navel.

2. I discovered that my big sofa chair in the room, is actually not quite as stable as I thought it is. I fell backwards while on it four times on friday night. The chair actually tipped backwards - I hope it isn't coz I'm getting heavier.
I woke up the next morning quite surprised I didn't hit my head on the sink behind my chair.

3. I suddenly remembered I still had some stuff left over from Glastonbury - and that there's never an expiry date to these substances.
And my spliff-rolling skills have not deserted me either.

4. Smoking habits can be kicked by hypnotism... You can actually get a licence to practice hypnotism apparently.

5. Fellini was declared 'probably the most famous director in the world who is living' about a few years ago? Before he died, obviously.

6. Some people refer to ex-es in the present tense.

7. That I'm flying back this saturday (mark the 12th in your calendar and get in touch!) - which I am, as usual, having mixed feelings about. I'm gonna have to go through the whole uprooting process again - which always disconcerts me. I spend the 13 hours flight in a mental darkness reflecting on what had happened since the last time I had such a rite of passage. And everytime I do that, I am always immensely surprised by the turn of events.

8. I can't decide if I love life the way it is - or whether I'd settle for something less complicated. I sometimes wish life to be simpler - but frankly I doubt I'd be any happier with a less complciated existence.

9. Someone gave me real, actual mustard seeds the other day.

10. There is no repentance to my essay procastination despite having sworn to have had the worst essay night in my life - and having a 'remember to start essays NOW' warning pasted right in front of my face on my wall behind the computer.

There are 2 things..

I'm not afraid of death, I'm afraid of not being remembered.

I hate not being remembered, and I'd hate being a statistic.