Shopaholic

Shopaholic Me! Retail therapy is absolutely fantastic, I can swear by it. For the past two weeks I have bombed a disgusting amount on clothes. Why 'disgusting'? A little annoyed by self in fact for spending so recklessly. I stress - reckless.

Okay, let's do a stock take. However punishing it may be for me to recall my purchases... (Okay, I m showing off. I confess.) I am gleefully satisfied. Thinking about them makes me chuckle. Hee.

Here goes nothing!

A. 5 tops - About $100 was spend on them. Well, there was a sale at Mango and Zara!!!!!! It ain't my fault!

B. 3 pairs of shoes - My new Pazzion heels! And a new pair of black slippers that I bought! Went shopping in my new heels and they hurt my feet dreadfully, I succumbed to the temptation of buying another to give my feet some respite. Some reason... And my Converse shoes - a shoe so wonderfully comfortable.

C. Two Adidas T-shirts!!!!! My star buy! But defence!!! I got them for my brother. A whopping $69 each!!! (Okay, I got huge discounts for them. I got them at $29. Connections... *Chuckle*)

D. Socks - A pair for $5! I just could not resist buying them. Each time I stroll pass this socks shop in Ngee Ann City, I would pop in to take a look. Bought 4 pairs from them in the past two months. Pretty things. Best of all - Made in Japan! Okay, silly mentality. Give me a break.

E. Pants - 2 pairs were bought. Hmm...

One more item to top all these shopping off - A white headband!

Pyle's Response to "Till the End of Time"

"You can love a person in a million ways. You can overlook his flaws. You will hold his hand, and warm his heart. It's just beautiful to love someone. Beautiful thou monster.

I just want to hold his hand, and warm that cold hand. Look at that dimple in his face. Ruffle his messy hair. I just want to hear him laugh and speak. I just want to hold on to these devastatingly beatiful memory. I just want to embrace it to my grave. I would never want to love another again. " - Sophia Pyle on Love.

Booey, you have got a long way to go dear to reach the ranks of Plath and Browning.

Till the End of Time

Till the End of Time - Sophia Pyle

I will love him in my years of youth.
And may I love him till I am old and gray.
May I carry the love for him through the years
With the same fiery constancy of fresh love.
May it burn furiously through the darkest of time
And brightest of day
Till the end of time.

No where near Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem, "How Do I Love Thee", but it is a pretty fair attempt. What say you, fair friends?

Dimples

Dimples are God's greatest gift to a man. This little etch by the cheek that bears the happiness of an individual, that shows at the sweetest of smile. This little hole that was lovingly carved at birth.

A smile that shall bring the greatest of joy to the onlooker. A smile that shall melt butter and bring to mind the fluffiest of thoughts. The teasing dimple that shall make one even more loved.

Admist the dying embers of hope,
The soft, flickering glow
That casts a silence across the room.

Blindfolded

This teaching stint is gonna put me into the asylum soon. The kids are just total rascals, and some are just sheer devils. Imagine, coming to school without pen and paper! How absurd! This boy in my class just holds on to his bag tightly. Ignores me and swears in Hokkien. Another blatantly falls asleep before me.

Geography? Isn't that my history? I am a literature student!!! Honestly, I am at lost in class. I am given two periods and I am done long before that. The kids are not responsive and some show a disregard for learning.

English? They have no regard for it either, and the English department had been less than helpful. I am tossed into the deep end of the pool and I am gasping for breath. Three weeks of this insane torture. Honestly, I am pretty keen on pulling out after two. I have yet to commit into my third week. Gotta think about it.

Untitled

I
Your wise counsel I have denied,
Your words that don't lie,
Truth in its entirety.

II
Thou monster!
What a fool you have made me.
Your silent strike that ruined me.

III
Oh fair one, I beseech.
As you frolick,
Leave a space in thou's heart
For the forgotten one.

IV
Pearls of sorrow
Shall not flow.

Letter to S

Dear S,

For the first time, I allowed myself to be swept away. I was reckless. I wore my heart on my sleeve. I defied the hold of rationality and simply fell. Arms open, heart raw. I became vulnerable. I let go of my guard. I allowed it to stab me. Hard in the heart.

I did not care. The thoughts brought a bittersweet smile to my face. I smiled and watched from afar as they made merry. It was a path that I chose to bear, knowing that it would bring me much pain. Yet I treaded it, unhesitatingly. I never looked back. I lived for that smile meant for another fairer. It tore me. Yet, I shall face it with equanimity and constancy.

I shall no longer lament. My well of words has run dry. I shall no longer weep, for my ducts are dry. I shall not sigh, for the irrevocable truth shall stay.

“Oh fool,” you may cry. But it is a choice that I have made, and I shall pay the price for my folly. Your words have fell on deaf ears. Your truth I have denied. Let me be the foolish wit.

The heart has a soul of its own. I can no longer rein it. It runs unbridled.

Eros has cruelly shot his leaden arrow, I am faced with indifference. My presence is unfelt. Yet I shall bear it. I am no longer dispassionate. I once scorn those fools. Yet I am amongst them this very moment. Perhaps, you may now understand my wish to stay six. I would have been free from these trappings.

Emotions – I once held them far. I could not understand them. Yet I grew into them, too rapidly, too suddenly. They set me alight, but at a huge price. It left me screaming with agony.

Letting go is not an option. It is going to rip out a piece of me. However, would it matter? My soul has been shattered into a million shards. Each piece has callously bitten into my existence. Unflinchingly, they gnaw into the depths of my being.

I thought salvation came when God sent that beautiful creature along my way. I was cheered and tears dried. But our paths were meant to cross and not meet. We were simply strangers at a cross road who nodded and when our separate ways.

Ha. It has brought me nothing but more misery. I continue on my path of darkness, with greater pain and sorrow. Bearing this irremovable hurt, alone. Yet, contend to see that fair one on a meadow making merry.

With love and thanks,
T

Fool

"Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit" - Shakespeare.

Haven't they been the wisest people of all time, the all-knowing bystander who sees the greatest truth. They show us the bitter truths that we unwisely choose to ignore. The joke is eventually is on us.

It is a bitter pill to swallow when we are told of our faults. We reason with these accusations, foolishly. We face inertia in embracing the truth. We run, we deny. In all futility. It is just a case of delayed ramifications.

Haven't we been told that facing up to our troubles would make them smaller and they would shrink away. Running away would make them bigger. Yet what is with this obsession to run? Obsession, I stress. How the foolish wit would conjure of clever ways to hide and present this flawless life story.

This beautiful mosiac piece of our life it may seem. Yet it is fundamentally flawed.

This farcarde.

Kicked Around Like A Football

What a whimsical title in my opinion! However, it is simply an opinion of my mine. How dull it may be to some. But isn't that what we all are. Dribbled by the large invisible feet of society ( you do not go about telling people when to reproduce), pushed around by friends and family( though unintentional). How tiresome!

Yet for football fanatics, it is one Beautiful Game. The simile of a football may not be such a bad idea. Alas for me, being a football is one bumpy ride that is making me green. Shuffled, kicked, dribbled.

I say a little prayer each day, that each day I would have a place in the hearts of family and friends. That I would not be forgotten, that they would not let go of my hand.

But each day, I walk alone. Parents begin to let go, teachers come and go, friends move on to a search for a hand that is going to lead them for the rest of their lives. And you are all alone. For the want of hands that once lead you when you were six. For the want of a heart that was innocent and pure at six, and that knew nothing but unadulterated love.

Because of You - Kelly Clarkson

Krispy Kreme

Alas for a donut lover, I have yet to try any of them. Yup, LOSER! Dunkin Donuts closed down before I was older and wiser about the delights of them. I was staring at these art creations for the afternoon and making myself miserable. How I yearn to get my hands on them. Click the link to these babies. Yummy!!!!!

Donuts

I am going gaga for them. Prior to my trip to Japan, I had a soft spot for these chewy beings. Upon my return, I go insane for them. Yup, it's all Mister Donut's fault. How could anyone resist these gorgeous, beautiful beings. They are too good to resist. I can sink into 3 of them at a go. Gone are the days I can grab a donut for breakfast, tea and supper. There would be a Mister Donut store at every corner of Japan. Sometimes, I feel that there are more Mister Donut stores than McDonalds in Japan. Look at this beautiful creation above. Gorgeous. A master piece.

And my all time favourite is the Pon De Ring (Plain and Almond):
Click on the link here, can't seem to upload picture. Booey.

Gosh, my Dad and I worship these. They are the biggest delight. I do miss them dreadfully. And XQ, no thanks to your K buddy who takes delight in rubbing it in.

Of Late...

Of late, I find immense difficulty in reading the writings of others. Others who are better, wiser and more articulate. Perhaps I am numb, they no longer reach out to me as they once did. They are simply this oasis of words that swirl before me. What I write makes much more sense. I stare and ponder over my writing for ages. I am narcissistic over my work.

I am close to the breaking point.

My writings flourished of late, or so I think. When one undergoes immense emotional angst, words are like a fountain flow. Albeit, dark and disjointed. Ah, I am a person of paradox. Did I not just lament that I am facing a desert of words? I am one strange being. Perhaps the thought of leaving my arts roots has made me hold on to the last vestiges of my literature training furiously. I fear being an ignoramus. I loathe being one. I scorn those fools.

Perhaps I made a foolish decision to tread along the business path, to be lead by the nose, to drift to the course like a boat drifts to the sea. Yes, that’s what I am – a drifter. Living by the day. Yet, I am living. Coursing down the streets of Singapore was not enough. I took it down to Japan. And yet it failed to ease my troubled soul. I continue this futile walk to nowhere.

I tread with trepidation into this tunnel of uncertainty. Is this going to be a road of perdition? Trapped in eternal emotional angst and toil.

When would liberation come? When can I move forth with stealth and certainty?
Till then, I walk alone.

Tell Me...

Tell me, do you understand what I speak?
Or is this just some rubbish piece of shit?
Are these ramblings from an insane mind,
That is no longer lucid.
Tell me, please.
I have been asking.
Yet no answers come sailing in.

Something Pretty For A Change...

Desert of Words

I am lost in this expanse of land.
I have words yet I can't speak.
I am in this garbled land.
Inane.

I am there,
Yet I am unseen.

Letter To A Friend and Self

Dear XQ,

It ain’t easy I know. When disappointment comes in your way, it is so much easier to wallow in self-pity and lament. People turn bitter doing that. I have. I have wept buckets, walk a thousand miles and wrote hundreds. I have done every possible thing I could to forget. I couldn’t.

I chose to run. I am still running. I make a wish every day to be six again. It’s easy to laugh and be strong. But no one really knows that behind this smile is this enormous sense of bitterness. If only letting go was easy. If only all things were bright and beautiful.

The unfortunate truth remains -"A big city cannot afford to have its attention distracted from the important job of being a big city by such a tiny, unimportant item as you happiness or mine." – E.R Braithwaite in To Sir With Love

Yet, being in this pit hole has made us very unique individuals. We simply lead life in this darker and bitter way. But I can proudly say that we are living and not existing as a mere entity which is definitely easier. You and me. We have been actively seeking ways to struggle out of this hole. We have sought to keep ourselves occupied and we have made new friends. We have lead our lives in a proud, dignified manner that will bear no burden on our conscience.

This letter is full of paradoxes. I may not be the best one to give you advice or encouragement. I am a fucked up individual. And I am still gonna be one in time to come. Yet, being brave to admit it has made all the difference.
Love, T

The Pine Planters (Marty South's Reverie)

THE PINE PLANTERS (MARTY SOUTH’S REVERIE)
I
We work here together
In blast and breeze;
He fills the earth in,
I hold the trees.

He does not notice
That what I do
Keeps me from moving
And chills me through.

He has seen one fairer
I feel by his eye,
Which skims me as though
I were not by.

And since she passed here
He scarce has known
But that the woodland
Holds him alone.

I have worked here with him
Since morning shine,
He busy with his thoughts
And I with mine.

I have helped him so many,
So many days,
But never win any
Small word of praise!

Shall I not sigh to him
That I work on
Glad to be nigh to him
Though hope is gone?

Nay, though he never
Knew love like mine,
I’ll bear it ever
And make no sign!

II
From the bundle at hand here
I take each tree,
And set it to stand, here
Always to be;
When, in a second,
As if from fear
Of Life unreckoned
Beginning here,
It starts a sighing
Through day and night,
Though while there lying
’Twas voiceless quite.

It will sigh in the morning,
Will sigh at noon,
At the winter’s warning,
In wafts of June;
Grieving that never
Kind Fate decreed
It should for ever
Remain a seed,
And shun the welter
Of things without,
Unneeding shelter
From storm and drought.

Thus, all unknowing
For whom or what
We set it growing
In this bleak spot,
It still will grieve here
Throughout its time,
Unable to leave here,
Or change its clime;
Or tell the story
Of us to-day
When, halt and hoary,
We pass away.

How Assuming Made A Fool Of You & Me

It's easy ain't it?

Letter to a Friend (4)

Dear Mr XX,

I made my choice, I decided to take up the challenge of entering Business school. I am not leaving my arts root for good though. I plan to return to them someday. I can take literature as a elective in NTU, I guess.

How have you been? Good I hope. Has work been hectic? The nuclear crisis has always been a hot potato. North Korea has been a big pest of late, threatening to fire a missile over Japan. I have not heard much about Iran though, are talks making headway? Sometimes I just get the sense that we are heading for mutually assured destruction. Stubborn assholes as we humans tend to be.

Been reading William Golding's "Rites of Passage". Mildly humourous, the protagonist is a pompous and obsequious person. What have you been reading of late?

Take care. Hope to see you soon.

Regards,
T

These Days...

Of late, I have been extremely self-centered. It has been me, me, me and me of late. I am ashamed to admit it. I have forgotten my cause. I have forgotten about the depravity and the suffering of the world. All I have been doing of late is to whimper over my broken soul. Ha. The great fool. Yup, you have been a fool of late. A big one.

Tell me, what do you do to make a person strong? Tell me, where do I find hand to hold and shoulder to lie on? Tell me about the ways to end poverty and chaos in the world? How do I make people happy? Tell me. Please.

I want to be six again. Six, that beautiful age. I want to be able to run and throw myself into the arms of my Grandma without hurting her. I want to be carried on my Uncle’s back. I want to be free from the responsibilities of the adult world. And most of all, I want my heart to be free. Free from the trappings of romantic love. Away from its heavy chains that trouble the heart.

Yet, I grew into the tender youth of womanhood. A thought that sends me shivering and crying in a corner. This claustrophobic world of adulthood drives me insane. Ha, how I wish to be inane. How can I achieve it? Bang my head against the wall and seek to be retarded. Perhaps. The scary world out there drives people to do strange things. I can simply be one of them. It’s easy.

But no, the world deems us weak.

Grow up! Don’t be a wimp. Responsibilities. Choices. Decisions. Consequences. This clutter of words that I dread. These monsters that haunt you for life. I am scared. Go away please! Oh flee. Please. I beg you. Please.

Untitled

I weep as I speak,
This tall one that has brought me much
Sorrow, pain and uncertainty.
Thrown into the fires of angst and doubt,
It creeps and then strikes the heart.

"She loves not me,
And love alone can bring you equanimity" - Thomas Hardy

Robert Burns

"To see her was to love her,
Love but her, and only her"
~ Robert Burns

Revelation

All this while that I have been on the search,
In this futile search that has sent me out on long walks
On cold, rainy days against the bleak Singapore streets.
To the dark, dusty confines of museums,
To the beautiful land of the rising sun,
To the deepest chains of my mind.
Yet I found none.

I have sunk into the depths of despairs,
And foolishly tortured my soul.
Yet the answer was just there. There.
In the deepest shelves of my mind,
Hidden, denied.

I now know what I am seeking.
I fear it, I loathe it.
I wish it stayed young and innocent,
I wish it never grew.
But it was bursting, screaming
With bitterness and love.

I could no longer deny it,
For it had its soul of its own.
Amok it ran,
Pain and sorrow it brought.
I can only weep - alone.
For the shoulder I seek
Isn't there.
His eyes cast to another fair one.
I can only wait.

Unadulterated Joy

For the first time in months, I felt truly happy. Beautiful Sunday it was. The moment I stepped out of the house, I saw a bridal couple posing for pictures along a quaint wedding car. I headed to school (meaning Japanese Language School, I spend most of time there these days) and worked on making my yukata, which was enormous fun. Took a taxi down with my sensei to the ROM ceremony at Ritz Carlton. Yep, I love my Japanese language classmates. We have great fun together. Sensei was cute and funny. I love her, she is such a affable and amusing talker. On my way back to school with Sensei again, I saw another wedding car. I felt so happy to see so many weddings. Told sensei about it and she agreed that I was lucky. She rushed for lessons and I rushed for my dance. She looked startled to see so many people in yukatas when the lift door open. Dance is on the third floor and lessons on fifth. But we agreed on a party next month.

Dance was enormous fun as ususal. Special treatment as always- I am the youngest. Next, we headed to Bugis for some shopping. Interesting. New shops opened and I enjoyed myself immensely at Bugis Village.

In fact the high started from Saturday evening where I indulged in some retail therapy. Bought Converse sports shoes!!! My legs are creaking from wearing high heels. I am so grateful for the flats at last. I just wish that it will never end. Neverending story... ...

Home - Michael Buble

Screwed

I am screwed. SCREWED. Do I have to say it again. I am SCREWED! I wish I never grew up. I wish I was six again. I wish to God that my heart stayed 6.

Sobbing

My heart is wretched and I can't say why. It hurts so much that it bleeds a well of sorrow.

Letter to a Friend (3)

Dear Mr XX,

To be honest, family support hasn’t been too great.They expressed their disappointment repeatedly in thedays after the release of the results. My Dad and an aunt in particular were pretty insensitive to it. To date, my Aunt is adamant that I have done badly. She is silent about it now though, Grandma stopped her or she would have repeated her disappointment at each ofmy visits. I guess my Dad felt bad about it and packed me off to Japan. But he does rub in unconsciously by lamenting how well his colleague’s daughter has done.Yes, I stress, “lament”. It’s this silly competitive spirit among the Chinese again.

I guess expectations were high this time. From family and self. Walking the arts path was a unilateral decision of mine, my family members were up against it. I promised them that I would do well then, but I failed. They have every right to be disappointed at me, I guess.

The only advice I have from my Dad regarding theuniversity issue goes something like this, "Choose the course that is going to make you the most money". How typical of a draconian Chinese patriach. I am sure he's not the only one. Not helpful advice by my standards. It frustrates me when all that matters is money. Yet I am terrifed by it.I am terrified of stepping into the working society.Working adults just seem so jaded and disillusioned. Of late, I have been hearing horror stories of worklife. I have a friend who is looking forward to theday he can toss his resignation letter to his boss. Coming soon though, he is heading to the U.S for his masters.

Gap year? Perhaps not, I have got my responsibilites as a eldest child. I had 8 months to myself, I frittered most of it away in self-pity. I would loveto head to Phnom Penh or Japan or Italy, but somehowrealities rein me in. I was pretty keen to sign upwith a organisation like Cross Cultural Solutions but I was set back by the cost. A 3 week programme is a hefty $2ooo plus in US dollars, that would have amounted up to $3000 in Singapoe dollars.

I will attempt to make a call to you soon. Once I have figured out a way to make the call as cheap as possible. Do take care, thanks for listening.

Regards,
Ennui