at rest...

I close my eyes. deep breaths...

Listening to the music...

The hopes we had were much too high...
Way out of reach but we had to try...

A smile on my contented face. The lights are dim. The faint sounds of the AC... The pains and aches of the day, washed away. The frustrations and the anger, all gone. All that is left, is the radio...

Another deep breath...

When there's love in sight...
i swear i'll always be strong...

Thinking back to the year so far... it's been quite a ride. Learnt a lot, often through the hard way. Grew in confidence... New experiences, new aspirations, new goals. Gained in maturity...

Oceans apart, day after day,
And i slowly go insane...

Somehow, things always seem better, easier, lighter, when I close my eyes. No distractions, just a mental model of the obstacles crossed, and the challenges ahead. When the eyes are closed, the pain receptors are numbed, but the other senses are heightened... pleasure, hope, perspective...

Now, we got nothing but the radio on...
we're all dancing to a new emotion...

How apt...

Reorganise, Rejuvenate, Restart

Life's a little messed up right now. Time to take a long deep look at myself. Entry will be a work-in-progress...

Hobbies:

1) Tennis - Have stopped playing for the past few weeks... realised that I've stopped improving, and starting moving in the wrong direction. My zest for the game ist still present, but it's a sports that requires someone else to play with. Need someone to play with, need some place to play with, need some coach to learn with...

2) Roller-blading

3) Squash

4) Golf

5) Running

6) Gym

7) Ping-pong

8) Cable-skiing

9) Badminton

10) Swimming

11) Ice-Skating

12) Reading

13) EPL

14) Formula One

15) Baking

16) Watching American shows

Was it Nothing At All....

I have a mp3 player. It's my very own Sony NW-S203. It's primary purpose: Provide the rhythm when I'm apace. My old one busted during the Singapore Marathon last year, only 3km into the run.

The music I play, it's all running music, with the fast musical beat coursing through my veins. My every step keeps to that rhythm, my arms swing left and right, and my lips alternate between silently echoing the lyrics and taking deep invigorating breaths.

All except one song, Michael Damien's "Was It Nothing At All". It's not the right beat; it's slow, calm, serene even... totally against what a running song should be... But, there's something so special about the song that I can't place it. There's something about the way he sings it, the guitar chords accompanying it that simply thrusts past my physical boundaries... I hear it with my heart, not my ears.

He sings it so painfully... the hurt just cries out at you

"Was it nothing at all...
No more hope of holding your body in the moonlight...
Did I fall in love for nothing..."

Perhaps his song reaches deep into the recesses of my suppressed memories. Was really happy once, with someone near and dear to my heart. But love dies, people move on, and memories are forgotten. Until a time when such a song comes, hurling its pick-ax and excavating the memories of past happiness and sorrow. And I wonder why I loved so hard, if it still came to naught.

"No more hope of touching you, feeling you by my side...
Did I fall in love for nothing..."

This song will remain in my music folder, happily hidden in-between two quick-paced, lyric-less tunes. If you ever see me, or run with me, and I have my headphones on...and my eyes glaze, and my feet slows its pace, and there's a broken smile on my face... you'll know what I'm hearing.

The song of my past.

Between letting go, and pushing away...

For all the evil things I do/say to/about my friends, I truly cherish my friends very, very much...

However... when i feel that a friend is slipping away, for various reasons... I would go into the "fight or flight" mode...

The fight...

I'll wrestle my way through those reasons...

I learn a totally new sport, language, making extra time available for him/her, changing my likes/dislikes... maybe even change my hairstyle... But these are only temporary fixes, a 'hack' solution akin to plugging a finger in the leak in the dam... Sometimes that works... but... based on historical evidence... there's only so long it can hold together...

The flight...

I push away...

guess it's age and experience coming into play... you know certain things are inevitable: you can't help what's going to change... the only option left is to... change how you respond to it.

It's a self-preservation mechanism...

the heart can't take anymore rejections... it's been smashed and crumpled so often that only a broken silhouette remains of its former glory... self-preservation by laying the groundwork... it's just like painting a house; if you paper the floor well enough, the stains of the paint job will never leave a mark... similarly, you cover up all the vulnerables, dun give anyone a chance to hurt you... your own brick wall... reinforced with steel and a piranha-infested moat...

It's a pre-emptive strike...

Hurt the other before the other hurts you... it sounds truly malicious and evil. But in this world of strangers and strange things, who else is there to look after you, but yourself? Let them hurt! Why should I always be the one suffering... silently?


...

Both ways, it hurts... suffer alone, or spread the misery?


is there a third way?

The beautiful weather...

The morning breeze... light, crisp, fresh against my face... effortlessly blowing my worries away... The wind, like a happy faerie, swirls around me, up my sleeves, past my ears, through my hair...

It lifts me up: my body, my soul, my spirit...

The air is light, and the skies a clear blue... The pace of life slows down, and i take every advantage to soak in the gentle sunlight...

It calms me down: my tense body, my constant worries and my unfounded fears...

It is almost too good for my senses to bear...

I stop, and i close my eyes... Deep breaths...

Two for now...

It's just right... Today, it's just right.

Between Settling Down and Living It Up

The number 27...

That's really quite a nice-looking number. The "2" is nice and steady, in a runner's ready position, about to shoot off into greater glory... while "7" is all about taking it cool, leaning back and relaxing.

The choices of a 27...

That's an age that you're caught up between charging forward, and taking it slow. Like how the number looks, you're undecided between settling down and living it up... You look at your happily married peers and your single partying friends, and you wonder. You wonder which path to take, which life to lead.

But... it's not that hard a decision to make; either take the left foot forward, or the right one. C'est tout! Don't think further than that, because with every additional step, the way forward will get clearer, and the next steps will only get easier...

The day when I finally turn 27...

I will celebrate the fact that I have lived through 27 years of mistakes. and that I will make many many more... But the truth is, I am the sum of all my mistakes. By making my mistakes, I learn from them, and they will slowly (tho painfully) point me to the direction I should take, the decisions I should make. The more mistakes, the more sign posts to guide me along.

On that day, like what Phil Collins sang ... it's just another day in paradise. I will wake up that day. I will look back at my 27 years of sign posts. I will look into the horizon. I will smile. and I will take that next step...

New Year, Old Thoughts

2007

Almost 27.

Gosh that's scary. Bet the same thought is growing through your head right now too.

The older you get, the longer the path you seem to have trot...

one's accomplishments get diluted by one's lifetime.

the older you get, the shorter the path in front of you appears...

you're too old to do this, you're too old to do that.
your body is weak, your flesh is putrid.
your mind is absence, your memory fading.

there's a point in your life where you're at the top of your game,
when you're the king of the 'hill',
this is a moment when one wonders,
"Am i still climbing my hill?
But have i already passed it?
If I had,
Was it a mountain?
Or an pile of sand,
already blown away by Time's gentle breeze?"

My scars, my wounds, and my aches
They carry my past with me.
Of past battles, past decisions, past choices.
They are the foundation of my soul.

But,
is the foundation sound?
Did i make the right choices then,
or have I doomed myself to a future of failures and regrets?

Is it too late
to say "I'm sorry, please let me try again??"

The answer is...

Maybe...


That's a word of hope, and a word of fear.
Carry both in the heart and walk onwards...

It's like a drug...

I know it's bad for me, but I can't help myself.

it beckons me, luring me into the midst, again and again.
It's the nectar of the gods, the spring of eternal hope,
"Open up, give in", it says, "this time, it will come true"

I resist, driving it to the back of my head, down to the depths of my memories.
But there it resides, never dying, never fading away,
just patiently, patiently, awaiting...
minutes, days, weeks even...

For the right opportunity,
that faintest glance at the corner of my eye,
that brief moment when my guard is let down,
that shadow of an opportunity is all it needs.

It strikes without warning, slicing into me like a blade,
gripping my heart with its fist and ripping it out,
In that split second, the intensity of the hurt doesn't register... yet.
Instead, there's a numbing , almost beautiful, shock
like the rising of a mushroom cloud, you stare in amazement...

the pain, that familiar feeling,
cutting a fresh wound over the old battle scars.
They never heal completely; it's just dried blood, the pretense of recovery...
no matter how many times i've gone thru it,
this time it hurts, more... much more.
it hurts to death, but it doesn't kill me...

i dun blame it.
It is passive.
I can only blame myself for letting it happen.
Again and again.

One day i will break it,
but it's not today...

Cheshire Home Excursion

Singapore Cheshire Home is our adopted charity. There are 76 residents there suffering from chronic disabilities and thus wheel-chair bound. We volunteered to bring 15 of them out Wednesday evening to show them the Christmas light-up at Orchard Road, and dine at Pizza Hut in Lucky Plaza.

Initially, we were quite worried as to how to react to the residents. It was the fear of being over-exuberant, and to a lesser extent, being almost condescending. They were not kids nor mentally handicapped, but rather people who, in part of or all, suffered from diseases which rendered them unable to use their lower limbs. Some of them could not articulate their hands properly and had difficulty eating or drinking.

In spite of their obvious physical sufferings, they were amazingly cheerful, ecstatic even! It was a joy to dine with them, and i learned a tremendous amount in the brief hours we were together. Initially, I was carving out for each of them a pizza slice. Thoughtless me... didn't realise that they had trouble cutting the pizza until my colleague gently chided me... Spurred into action, i slowly sliced up the pizza into tiny bite-sized morsels for easy consumption. The kid i was seated in front of (the cheerful boy shown in the pic above) could not easily articulate his hands, and had to drink the mushroom soup using a straw. Once again, i failed to notice that the soup was too hot to drink with a straw. He took a big sip and his eyes bulged! A big grin was on his face and his eyes told me that it was HOT HOT HOT! Half-apologetic and half-laughing like the idiot that i was, i proceeded to spend the next 5 mins stirring the soup until it was just cool enough to drink with a straw. This time he sucked it dry. He really liked that mushroom soup!

Singapore Marathon 3 December 2006

I have talked the talk... and now I have ran the run. 21.1km. The crisp Sunday morning air was perfect; the light drizzle midway spurred me on, each raindrop pricking my searing skin like needles; and the cheering at the finishing line was like lightning that coursed through my aching limbs. Did it in 2hrs and 33mins, about 6 mins better than my previous AHM timing. Next time will be better! I've done it once, and now have done it twice... the next time will only get easier. AND faster.

2) My stupid mp3 player died on me, when it was only 3km into the run. The fast-paced, pulsating and exhilarating beats sputtered its last dying notes way before i even got into my running rhythm. Movement without music... note-unworthy. My standard running inspiration... drowned out in a cacophony of aches and pains, and more importantly, self-doubt... But i kept apace, even when my legs stopped listening to the head, because it WAS easier to move than to stop..... Dumped my mp3 player in the CityLink bin, too distraught by its failures to render it a second chance......

My first Standard Chartered Run.... the first of many many more to come. My mum actually came down to support me, unfortunately didn't manage to catch her as i crossed the finish line. Guess I was just concentrating on the medal... the special one that stated unabashedly that even though i was placed 2000+ in my category, i was still a winner...

Saw this chap who was running, his inspiration for running was that he used to be 94000g... even now, i weigh in much more than he did at his 'peak'. Dunno whether to be proud, or pissed actually. Apparently fat people not capable of running marathons. When some of my friends heard that i was running, they went "YOU??? ARE YOU SURE?????!?" with that shocked, sneering-down-the-nose look. Would love to say that i ran this race to show myself that i could... Part of me secretly taking a shot back at those people, and say "There! I DID it! and I'll do it again and again until you accept that I AM better than you think I am!"

Friend asked me today if i wanted her finisher's t-shirt, since by the time she came in, all her sizes were gone, and only XXLs were left. Sorely tempted... but definitely not. This is a shirt i cannot wear. The honour does not belong to me... yet. The giddy anticipation for next year, when i finally take the big step and sign up for the full, will keep me going. Donning that shirt when i finally achieved it will be the icing on the kueh lapis... every layer a symbol of a year of discipline in exercising, eating and mental endurance; a transformation from butter and fats into a solid, confident delicacy! haha! ok ok, gone too far with the cake analogy...

Alright, will take a break here. Got plenty more to update in my next post... Thanksgiving turkey, Volunteering, and others... Who says that life in Singapore is Boring? NOT me! at least no longer...

Pre-New Year Resolutions

1. Need to lose 15 kg by February 20

a. No more eating after 9.30pm.
b. Au moins 3 times @ Planet Fitness gym every week.
c. At most one meal with rice a day. At most half a cup of rice, slowly reduce to quarter cup.
d. Only fruits after 8.30pm.
e. Abstain from KFC and desserts (ice-cream)

2. Complete Standard Chartered Half-Marathon 3 December

a. Train up to 18km at ECP.
b. Run 2-3 times a week.

3. Pick up / Carry on a foreign language

a. Consider either continuing Japanese or French.
b. Retrieve old notes, and revise old lessons.
b. Italian/ Spanish? Check out classes & availability.

4. Be more active in engaging people

a. Approach instead of waiting to be approached.
b. Ask questions instead of holding back.

Half-Marathon Route

This is where I'm going 3rd December...

Less than 30 days left to train up for 21km... The fun begins...

Doesn't Matter Whether You Win or Lose, It's How You Play the Game

Amazing how much I actually learn from Tennis. Today's another lesson. Played a singles match today. Did well at first, winning first game, but subsequently fell on the losing end. Finally lost 5-3. After the match, as I was leaving, and the court lights were dimming, I asked my coach what my single biggest fault was.

I expected him to tell me, it was my stamina, or lack thereof. I was panting and panting, and it was plain obvious that the game, as it went on, will end up with my collapsing from a burst lung, or a heart attack. I couldn't run for the ball, couldn't see the ball clearly, and was heaving and ho-ing until I had to call time to get a drink and a decent rest.

Instead, he told me, it was my lack of consistency. My forehands and backhands, however good, were erratic and error-prone. When I hit the ball, it was for the sake of getting the shot across the net, and within the court. All the training and classes, and the endless drilling of looking at the point of contact, the leg movement, the follow-through, the loosening of the grip, the position of the ball... all gone when i play a game.

He's totally right. I forget all my 10+ classes worth of training each time i play. And the more i play outside class, the more i entrench my mistakes. the more i entrench my mistakes, the worse i get... with i'm playing so much, I forget why i'm playing so much.

It's not about winning the point, it's about how i hit the ball every time. He tells me, even when i mis-hit the shot, i must still do the follow-through, still must have the right back swing, still must have the correct leg movement. Every time i mis-hit, it's one thing to laugh it off, but i should learn from mistakes, instead of repeating them again and again.

I tell him, whenever i try to remember everything he tells me to, all the proper stroke and stance and all, i invariably miss/lose the ball. Too much things on my mind forces me to lose focus on the ball, on the shot... only when i ignore my training then can i actually even hit the ball.

However, he tells me, just like studying, when i get a math question wrong, i don't just move on. I force myself to understand why i did it wrong, and repeat again and again until it's 2nd nature to me. Until it's built into my subconscious, that i no longer have to think, until it makes complete logical sense. Tennis is exactly the same thing. keep doing it right, until it makes perfect physical sense. If i can study well, i can play tennis well. If i can play tennis well, I can live life right.

I can live life right!

in the meantime, going to work on my stamina....

Breathe..... just breathe

went out ECP running today. Weather was great after a long spate of hazy days. It's still my fav running track. Esplanade park is good after work, long time since i went botanical gardens, and never appreciated other places like bedok reservoir, with its super painful and shoe killing gravel track, and that park near NUS.

1 hour 5 mins, to cover my usual distance. Am slipping for sure. Need to bring it down to 45 mins. Unless I start biahing daily, might not achieve my stanchart target of 2.15 for the 21km. Even put up a countdown clock on the right to remind me constantly that time is drawing near.

Today's running was quite good. I controlled my breathing until it was a steady pace, allowing me to move at a consistent speed without getting too tired. Naturally the competitive me wanted to keep apace with some super runners whenever they pass me, and i doubled my footsteps, while forcing myself to stay at the same breathing rhythm.

It worked, for a while, and i knew i was moving faster than usual, and i was ok so long as i continued breathing regularly. Lack of stamina soon forced me to concede, and i was gasping for air, slowing down to an almost walking pace. When i lose control of my breathing....i am coughing, choking even, as my body unconsciously demands more oxygen, more energy. it doesn't really, but my body has long been in control of my breathing, telling me that i ought to breathe more, and as it does, my heart pace quickens, my vision blurs, i lose concentration of what i'm trying to do... which is simply to move my left leg forward, and then move my right leg forward.

Every sense in me tells me, "you can't do it anymore, you're tired, you're weak, you're fat"... again and again. my body unconsciously slouches forward, further impeding the flow of air down to my lungs, i feel the pain in my ankles, and the sweet sweet choice of just letting go and stopping.

I have been running... not frequently enough, 'tis true, but certainly long enough... but this is the struggle i go through each and every single time i run. friends always tell me it gets easier, and the urge to stop withers away after a while, but it's certainly not true. It's not just a physical struggle, it's an emotional fire fight, and every time i slow down or stop, feels like i lost once again. my own inner demons have bested whatever willpower i had that day. I feel like a total loser.

But, loser or not, i am still trying... in the blind hope that one day, some breakthrough will occur, that my love handles will just melt away, leaving only the persona of myself that i have always dreamed of, if not seen... that the person i felt was the real me can finally be revealed to the entire world... not the fat, ugly, hunch-backed, self-doubting and weak-willed chap that i see in the mirror everyday.

one day it will happen. am sure of it. when my 1.05 becomes 0.45.. when my waist drops till i need a new wardrobe, when i'm not suffocating under my layers of fats...

it will happen... just give me a little time...

in the meantime... one step at a time, one breath at a time

i want

i wish i had someone who i just want to bitch about my horrible work and life. someone i just feel like complaining to at the end of the day, when things go wrong, when life sucks no matter how hard you try. when i tell her my pain, doesn't matter what the actual contents are, i feel better at the end of the day because she was around listening to my rantings.

i wish i had someone who wants to hear me bitch. that even if it's a pain to hear me pour out my incessant troubles, she grins and bears it, coz she knows that she's the only person i really want to be around with when i'm so troubled, and that she alone can help me in my darkest hour.

to that special someone, i'll do exactly the same thing for you too.

isn't that ultimately what relationships are about?

How i should think about myself

i was playing tennis today... during class. practiced something different, and haha, naturally i was one of the worst in class, just couldn't hit the ball the right way in class. and when we played game, i kept losing for my doubles partner.

all these had me depressed and despaired. I like play 3 times a week, getting as much practice as i can, and yet i still do so poorly compared to my coursemates, who never play apart from the class. i could be angry at myself, and i was. kicked myself for not having a single sport bone in my body. and that no matter how hard i try, i still cannot make it, in sports as in life, compared to these other people...

taking a step back, i realized something important.

How good i perceive myself, should not be relative to other people. if i want to compare, the only person whom i should be comparing with, is myself. Nobody else is relevant. Nothing else is relevant. Of course, people will say that you're at the top of your class, won first prize, came in last for the marathon... so on and so forth.

That's really their own problem. Not mine. Each and everyone is unique. If i really want to rationalize away my comparative shortcomings, i can always say that the other people were highly sports-oriented folk, one is a physical ed teacher, the other a national sportsperson. But what's the point of doing that?

What i should really be doing... is look at myself now, as compared to before. My tennis is improving, my health is improving, my love for sports is immense. I have done alot of the things that i've set out to achieve, and just because i'm the worst student in tennis class in no way diminishes my self-worth.

I am proud of who I am. I try hard to do the things that I set out to do. Just because everyone is better than me in some (and many) ways does not mean I'm a piece of crap. My sense of self-worth should not be contingent to how people do compared to me.

That's a good lesson to learn during tennis class, no?

:)

From questioning my feelings to questioning my existence...

Had a meaningful discussion last night with her.

Gave myself a better understanding of how I think with respect to her...

The two of us are out-of-sync. What does this mean? She started working 1 1/2 years before I did, so the emotions that i'm going thru right now, the issues, the frustrations, and the disappointments , she's like "Been there, done that, your turn to face it"... her work maturity has already moved on to the next stage, and it only seems that all i will ever be able to do is play catch-up...

does it matter? i dunno... perhaps it's the male chauvinistic pig inherent in me, but i do wish i wasn't always on the receiving end of experienced advice. all i really suffer from is a time-lag, which is a gift from the system that i grew up with. eventually things will level out, i hope...

talking yesterday, reached the realization that the two of us, perhaps like the majority of people our age, don't really know what we are doing with our lives. she's amazed and envious of women who can live for their family and children. Our time is running out, she says, not much time left to think about what to do with our lives already...

Which is true... I'm already 26. Sure, i can always say i'm still young and still got time left. But i'm over-drafting on my timebank even as i write this. I could be doing super productive office work, training up for my marathon, learning a new hobby, making new acquaintances. But I don't really know what the end result of all this is. I could only reply meekly that I have certain milestones, short-term tactical goals that I would like to achieve now, like health and fitness, like sports... and avoid thinking about my future...

She says that people are born, and then they die, so what's the point of leaving a trace behind? Yet i am not prepared to go willingly into the night, coz i always wished i could leave a mark, leave some sort of legacy behind. That's how parents achieve immortality, isn't it, by having children? People who know me well, know that i have this concept of maintaining my mobility, by refusing to lay down roots here or elsewhere, so i can just pick up and scoot off in a blink of an eye. and yet, even deeper within myself, i always knew that i want someone to live with, to love, to grow old with, to settle down...

Someone once said that "What we leave behind is not as important as how we lived"... I haven't left anything behind, and i haven't been ecstactic about how i've been living too...

So, what am i doing?

Reflections

in university, i craved having someone by my side to listen to me grouse about my workload, to walk along the river bank in the setting sun, to mother me when i'm sick and complaining like a brat, to fret over when she's sick or crushed with work, to console her in her disappointments...i even planned before a nice romantic dinner, thought about the cutlery, the food, the candles, even the type of music to be played, the worrying whether the food would be too burnt/dry/uncooked/overcooked/tasteless/gross...

then like that, my 5 years of uni life just passed. like the snap of a finger. all i had to remember, was the lonely nights spent sitting in front of my computer, hoping... begging for someone to come on msn, ping me, and acknowledge my existence. there were many a times i felt that, if i had just died in my room, no one would know until the stench of my carcass seeped into my neighbor's air vent. It was a period of non-existence; I was lonely...

Yet, on the other hand, I also started avoiding people. Outwardly i was all smiles and cheerful banter, but i kept an invisible barrier between myself and others, declining invitations. Even when i went to gatherings, i couldn't connect with the others. i knew it, and pretty soon, so did the others. When people ask me what the best time i had, the first thing that came into mind....Sitting in front of my laptop, a dvd waiting to start playing, a nice full-sized roasted chicken on my plate, a bottle of white wine at the side, and the promise of sweet delicious chocolate dessert ... alone, by myself...

it's almost hilarious, a loner, afraid of loneliness.

i thought this feeling would end when i came back here. no, it's just the same feeling but at a different location. i take up a myraid of activities to keep me occupied, to fill up my time after work, but at the end of every day, when i'm lying in bed, i know that i am still... alone. alone in the sense that i think no one out there knows how i feel, no one out there understands or truly appreciates who i am, no one out there who i feel i can connect with without even saying a word, no one out there i can just sit together with in a comfortable and reassuring silence.

there are billions of people in the world, isn't it amazing that i can still feel lonely?

I don't want to be alone anymore, but i dunno what i can do...

An Old Beginning...

Think i've been trying to compose a new entry for months... it's tough. used to have a blog elsewhere, when i stopped that, i thought: hey that's enough for me. played enough with this blog thingee, time to move on to something else.

Haha, here again, perhaps i have way too much things in my head, and no other outlet for it. the thoughts are overwhelming me, and many a times i lay in bed, unable to sleep, restless, in agony, and at times, emotional pain.

since this is a personal and anonymous blog, will air out things that i couldn't say in my old one. will try my best to be faithful and truthful in all that i write, in the hope that only my closest friends will ever see this....

Coffeeshop open!

Open for business!