the madness within wears so thin
I think of the childlike joy with which i once was a 120cm tall receiver of red packets and pinches on the cheeks, a little imp with buck-toothed smiles munching away at love letters and ba gua. It came this week, in fleeting moments, and then it passes, as all things must and all that. You'd realise that your childhood and teenage years pretty much defined you as a person, and from 19 onwards you find yourself paying the consequences of those years. Pimple scars, dry bleached hair, perpetual disatisfaction, loneliness, insecurities, arrogance, a blackened soul and what not.
I've been there. The girl listening to the whirring of the fan as she lies in bed in pitch black, with false hope in the romantic, in the carpe diem!, in the every unexpected. But something was missing and she was lingering. Getting up in the middle of the night and thinking, not knowing whether you should be worried or happy about yourself. There aren't any questions, but there are answers, and your mind is looking for them, searching through the past and the present, between folds of memories - the good, the bad and the ugly. Looking for some answer, some insight you might have missed in the normal upright hours between bus rides and calendar items.
It seems just yesterday life was not a set of choices. It was either this or nothing. White or wheat was not a choice we were offered. It was Gardenia's white, and we had it with kaya or Skippy. Now, i am confronted with choices everywhere i go. White, wheat, multigrain, rye, cinamon or rasin? How about water. Sparkling or regular, bottled or tap, ice or no ice, with a lemon or not please?
Before i knew God, i used to think that my life has been a series of mis-steps and wrong choices; i always end up looking over my shoulder back at the things i've walked past. I used to be one of those people, going through the years with a catcher's mitt on both hands, they complain and whine about the unfairness of everything, not knowing that they have been blessed with so much and it's time to give something back.
People its time to strike out.
Oh by the way, i downloaded RealPlayer just now because i want to listen to Gold 90.5fm. So now i use Windows Media Player or QuickTime for videos, iTunes for mp3s and um, RealPlayer for live radio. No wonder old people hate technology.
Xin nian kwai le everyone!
I've been there. The girl listening to the whirring of the fan as she lies in bed in pitch black, with false hope in the romantic, in the carpe diem!, in the every unexpected. But something was missing and she was lingering. Getting up in the middle of the night and thinking, not knowing whether you should be worried or happy about yourself. There aren't any questions, but there are answers, and your mind is looking for them, searching through the past and the present, between folds of memories - the good, the bad and the ugly. Looking for some answer, some insight you might have missed in the normal upright hours between bus rides and calendar items.
It seems just yesterday life was not a set of choices. It was either this or nothing. White or wheat was not a choice we were offered. It was Gardenia's white, and we had it with kaya or Skippy. Now, i am confronted with choices everywhere i go. White, wheat, multigrain, rye, cinamon or rasin? How about water. Sparkling or regular, bottled or tap, ice or no ice, with a lemon or not please?
Before i knew God, i used to think that my life has been a series of mis-steps and wrong choices; i always end up looking over my shoulder back at the things i've walked past. I used to be one of those people, going through the years with a catcher's mitt on both hands, they complain and whine about the unfairness of everything, not knowing that they have been blessed with so much and it's time to give something back.
People its time to strike out.
Oh by the way, i downloaded RealPlayer just now because i want to listen to Gold 90.5fm. So now i use Windows Media Player or QuickTime for videos, iTunes for mp3s and um, RealPlayer for live radio. No wonder old people hate technology.
Xin nian kwai le everyone!
Labels: introspection
