something that I never truly owned, only borrowed
A game of truth or dare was all we need
and these words will come spilling out of me in my drunken state
that I had my eyes locked on you the first day we met
that every love song I listened to reminded me of you
and every love song I written was about you
and now you're living your dream you spoke of
to fly to every corner of the world with brand new eyes
and every picture of every place you ever conquered
had memories of the past shot from my mind
when we stood together on a foreign land
where the sky opened up to pour some rain
and we acted like little kids in wonderland
when we wrapped ourselves under a cosy shelter
the moment so perfect
for our last first hand to hold
and our last first lips to taste
I would've bought you that yellow jacket you loved
that you posed for the mirror with a playful smile
our reflections stared back as you whispered in my ear
"We look good together"
I must've missed your boat a thousand times
and today and tomorrow and for so long
I could only wish you were mine
Sunday night creeps up on us again and pretty soon we'll sing the monday blues on our way to school and work. For all the complaints I made on working in the army it doesn't mean that I'm blinded to the positive life lessons I gained from my path. For one I learnt the harsh truth of reality, one that evades you when you're a child, when you're just another student struggling in school. It's times like these when I understand what adults were referring to when they said "Wait till you go to work". Studying in school can't be compared to the battlefield I faced at work all the time. There are politics, there are rumors, there are people who would only consider themselves in their stubborn minds. People are playing William Tell, one day they aim with bows and arrows but on another they're the victims with apples on their heads. It's a never ending, ever changing cycle that haunts this unit I'm serving. But it's from living and breathing in this environment that I realized I grew up to be a man, to be a little more mature in my thoughts. For all the mental and physical torture I endured, I stand firmer, stronger compared to the first day that I enlisted. With these battle scars on me I believe I can soldier on without much fear on the days ahead.
It's a matter of self belief now. When I'm all alone in a street full of strangers, will I still be able to stand, focus and do my best for what I'm intended to do? Or will I crumble, from the great boulders of stress on my skinny shoulders? A new window, a change of scenery, a whole new me. I want to leave the warmth of my home, my room, to be spontaneous, to jump, to fight, to swim, for brighter days in the future, to leap off the edge of a cliff. Yesterday's visit to the Australian open house at Hilton produced an expected hurdle to my intended journey, and it left me torn apart with questions and choices. But tonight, at this moment, I believe in the long run, the experience in Melbourne will be much more beneficial compared to the easy route of local education. This time, I do not want chances to slip through my fingers.
And should I fall apart, remind me that this inspiring song of Andrew will always be in my stereo.
You've gotta swim
Through nights that won't end
Swim for your families
Your sisters and brothers
You've gotta swim
Lately it's hard to find the peace and quiet I need around the house, if the tv isn't on, the phone would be ringing. Last night I was filled with a sense of loss as my cousin, who is also a dear friend, left for Melbourne with his family. Though his parents and brothers will be returning two weeks later he won't be landing on local soil till November due to studies. At the airport my head was filled with unanswered questions as I imagined I'm the one leaving on an airplane a year from today. In a period of the last two months I remain undecided if I should leave the comfort of a home and my room for studies in a foreign land. I love freedom, and the opportunity to study as an overseas student living in a cosy apartment with my cousin as my roommate excites me. Yet I fear lost relationships, the fear that when I return as a graduate I will be returning as a lonely one. Friends that won't recognize who I am, that won't answer my calls, that the distance which time carved will be too much to mend. Perhaps I'm paranoid, perhaps I need to have a little more faith in the circles that I'm in. But when darkness falls with nothing to stir the silence it's hard not to think of these lingering problems, especially one that concerns your future.
With the Australian open house looming for an application I'm hoping for something or someone that can make my decision a little easier. We'll see how it goes.
And it crashes back to reality again, with a month spent in dreaming is all but shattered. January sure has it's ways to break peoples' hearts. I'm supposed to be at work today, but due to the late night out from last night I decided to take a day off. Last night proved that it was all back to normal, not completely, but at least I'm not feeling alone in a crowded room anymore. Somehow after a long hiatus from the group I still managed to find my way back in. It started with a Christmas party, then drinks, and games, and pretty soon everything flowed and there was a sense of familiarity. Conversations weren't awkward, jokes were constant while laughters were ensured. Everything clicked, just like in '05. The highlight for me was the time we spent alone at Marina Barrage at the wee hours of Monday morning. Though much of the memory of it is pretty hazy in my mind right now I recall how we looked up to a starless sky and saw floating kites and hanging satellites with a full moon out of hiding. We were all doctors and murderers and detectives and cupids and lovers, on a floating island surrounded by sea with little waves of tides splashing against the sand and rocks, which sounded comforting and in a way worked like a lullaby. Doesn't matter if there isn't city lights, it helped us lie better anyway. A perfect night if I would say so, if only there was more.
I'm writing this as I'm chilling on my couch, awaiting the new year that is soon to arrive in a few more hours. It's amazing really, to stop your footsteps, to think, reflect on what happened in the past twelve months. I recall my great grandmother's death, witnessing the death of someone I knew, caught the best match l ever watched in July, had a fun time in cruise with friends, losing my cool at my colleagues for being assholes many times, celebrating endless birthday and holiday parties, and here I am, about to enter my last party of the year. I'm turning twenty two in a few months, and if I'm being completely honest with myself it's a little intimidating. University, work, love, marriage, I'm looking at these as challenges, and right now I don't feel that I'm equipped to embrace these challenges. For the whole day I was in a lackluster mood, I felt so disconnected to everything and anything. Lack of focus led to lethargy, and I couldn't complete anything I set out to do in my mind. I want to practice more guitar, write more, but there's always something to pull me away, and then at the end of the night when I lie in bed I feel unproductive. So I would like to use this post as a reminder to self,
Practice, Write, Laziness isn't an excuse
A little more experience, a little more patience, I'm looking at the world a little more differently.
It started as a faint buzz, but it grew, and soon it was a loud banging going on continuously that hurt your ears. My brain woke, and my eyes opened slowly. The view was all a blur, but as it became clearer so does the situation.
"Wake up! Get ready to fall in in five!" he blasted.
The room was full of commotion. Every boy got dressed in green, tied the laces of their boots and adjusted their uniform. The light pierced my eyes as I struggled to prepare myself. Time check, 4.am. It felt criminal, who the hell wakes up at four in the morning?! I adjusted my boots and I looked around, everyone looked the same, with their bloodshot eyes and haggard skin. We were all wishing for a bed, but the morning had only just begun.
We were assembled at the court, there must be at least a hundred of us. From the top we looked like an army of ants, at the bottom just a couple of lifeless zombies. The sergeants stood in front of us and passed us the instructions, where we were told to get in the trucks which would drive us to a spot in the forest. I remembered looking up at the night sky, no stars, no clouds, nothing. I remembered wondering to myself "what the fuck am I doing here."
The journey was blurry, I could only remember looking at the bumpy roads and longing for the warmth of home. Majority of us took the opportunity to catch a little sleep, but what's the point of doing so when it's only a mere ten minutes. We assembled again and we were told to march, so we did. The distance was five kilometers, but at that time it seemed endless. Big black boots were trampling all over the weeds and sand, little bugs flew around us, and the chirping of beetles hidden by the darkness of the trees swallowed the silence. Next we were told to sing, and we sang those songs that they taught us on the first day of enlistment. Every step, every word should be in coordination with the guy around you. We moved as a team, not as an individual. If only there was a drummer, we would've been more alive.
We finally reached our destination. By that time we felt like real soldiers again, not a city boy you find on the streets. Sweat and dirt covered our faces, plastered with smiles that indicated job done. We were then informed it wasn't just a marching exercise, but a journey to receive our first gun. This was it, we weren't boys that pointed fingers and pretended to shoot at other boys anymore. We were soldiers capable of killing enemies.
I stepped up, stretched out my arms to receive and saluted the commander. If there's any moment to define the first time I felt like a true soldier, that would be it.
This heavy rain has been pouring
my city for a few days now
But still I kept my windows open
so I could throw my work out
hoping to never see it again
and on Sunday night
Santa finally sat down
and chose me to do his work
so now I'm dressed in red and white
instead of the green I'm used to
and I finally understood how
anyone could be anyone's Santa
like how a boy like me
can be a soldier and fight for his country
this spirit of giving
sprinkled my heart with joy
and I have a calendar with filled up boxes
that's all I could ask for, really
to have the best time with family and friends
still, I'll wander those streets
lined with bright lights for the night
to buy some presents
and maybe a bottle of the finest champagne
for a toast is in order
to welcome a new year into my life
These past few days I threw work out of the window, and these were the things I soaked my time with.
1. Poker (My wallet seems lighter)
2. Shopping for Christmas (One less zero in my bank account)
3. Guitar practice for Christmas Performance (Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah)
4. Caught the movie Avatar (Visually, best I've seen)
and most of the boxes in my calendar are all filled up. I love December.
Two days ago as I was walking down the streets a little guy approached me as we crossed each others' paths. He couldn't be any more than the age of ten, looking sloppy and jaded, he spoke with a little tremble in his voice,
"Can I have a dollar?"
"To get a can drink"
Random, yes. But it's these sort of random little things in your life that makes your days a little more interesting than the life of a factory worker. He was a gentleman in his actions, but a liar in his words I'll never know. Nevertheless I gave him that little golden coin, and that smile of his gave me a little joy in my heart in return.
It's December and I should really feel inspired, but all I have are unfinished ideas that got burnt to the ground. Maybe someday those ashes will rise, but for now this is what I came up with by putting the puzzle together in three days.
The space between your lips
The air in your lungs
The hand that you hold
The pills when you're sick
The voice on your line
The line in your song
Something that I'm not
I hope I'm wrong
Believe me, I'm trying my best
Fighting a ghost of a past that I couldn't care less
But I'm constantly haunted by mirrors and bloodshot eyes
These battle scars are the bane of my life
And you will find what you want to give
And I know it won't be me
It's the prize I've been dying to win
But I'm just a boy who can't stand in the ring
Once again, there's a lingering problem living in my mind. The difference for this one though, is the major impact it'll have on my adult life. Discussions have been made about the possibility of overseas studies, and if all goes well with my applications I'll find my way on a plane to Australia, land of the kangaroos and koala bears. I'm having such mixed feelings that i'm tearing my hair apart trying to weigh the pros and cons. On one hand I'm really looking forward living in a foreign city with my cousin as my room mate, on the other I can't bear to leave a part of me behind. I'll be so disconnected with what I had, it will be the beginning of an end. This present life of mine will be wrapped up in an old box and kept in a locked drawer waiting to be revisited three years later.
It was one of those
the sun comes knocking on my window but i'm ignoring
the blanket over my head
my bed will act as gravity
my bed will be gravity
i'm not fighting
and i had one of those
she comes knocking on my door and i'm answering
the answer to my burning questions
the light at the end of my tunnel
she will be in my dreams
she will be in my dreams
i'm not fighting
and i'm holding onto her
i can hear her thoughts in her head
i can hear her breath close to me
the silence so welcoming
and she's holding on
to a flower that shares her name
i can smell the summer breeze
i can smell her hair close to me
the sun is drowning at sea
i'll be sleeping
if i'll keep dreaming
and waking up to something beautiful
They say that
everyone is a book
with a story to tell
and I hope to fill my pages with yours
your lips like pen
your words like ink
like pen to the paper
for eyes to see
and you chose not to stay home
on a Friday night
you stepped through the door
and they call out thief
the men for their hearts
the women for their men
their piercing stares
so cold and sharp
you won't forget
Look out for the gentlemen in green
with some flowers and a box with a ring
he's gonna ask for your hand
with his eyes to the floor
yet you have no qualms
following him through the door
for once the boy who cried wolf
is telling the truth
and years from now your tale will end
with you known as the lady in red
who mistook a wolf for a sheep
and it's a sheep to the slaughter instead
and he'll eat your young
when the new moon shines
your eyes like windows
your tears smudges ink
your words and windows shows a tortured soul
for all to see