Its wierd. How sometimes a song you suddenly found out about suddenly just fills up your whole life. It becomes the melody you hum on the sidewalk, the music playing while you study, the music you fall asleep to. The song may not be new, in fact, its a long time since it was written now. But there's a comfort in repeatedly playing and listening to that song, a feeling of familarity, a little of 'i've heard this before somewhere'. And you try to find a deeper meaning to that song, if it means anything beyond the record companies and dollar bills. If there's a something beyond synthesized love, or synthesized soothing. If there's just something more to that.
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy daysAnd somehow we surviveWe keep the feelings warmProtect them from the stormUntil our time arrives
Then one day the sun appearsAnd we come shining through those lonely years
I made it through the rainI kept my world protectedI made it throught the rainI kept my point of viewI made it through the rainAnd found myself respectedBy the others whoGot rained on tooAnd made it through
When friends are hard to findAnd life seems so unkindSometimes you feel so afraid
Just aim beyond the cloudsAnd rise above the crowdsAnd start your own parade
'Cause when I chased my fears awayThat's when I knew that I could finally say
I made it through the rainI kept my world protectedI made it throught the rainI kept my point of viewI made it through the rainAnd found myself respectedBy the others whoGot rained on tooAnd made it through
-I made it through the rain, Barry Manilow
I have not ''Made it'', but just counting down the days to be able to sing this song. and perhaps, in more ways than one.
Monday, 18 June 2012
Monday, 4 June 2012
Part 1
So yes. I'm in singapore. Yet, there's something inexplicably wrong this time around, that I find myself anhedonic. It may be a expectation mismatch yet again, but yeah, Singapore just isn't as I imagined it to be as I pulled myself through the months overseas.
Since I was a kid, the has always been something that I craved for with all my life, wanted so badly that I'd give anything for it. The things I want change as I grow, but I can still remember every vivid detail of my desire. I remembered in kindergarten the only toy I wanted, was a sword, a plastic one, any shape, any size. I remembered being caned for bringing sticks home posed at swords. I remembered power rangers being out of bounds because it promoted violence, and I remembered wanting them so badly I started drawing them on paper, and that continued till today. A look at my notes will most likely reveal a sword or two perfected since young, crafted by the mind, wielded only in spirit. And ask me now which medieval job I most want to do, and it'll be blacksmith, no doubt about that. In fact, I almost put it into practice, weapons design and engineering came up many times during my course selection and career decision. An option, vehemently opposed by my father. In fact, I think he was more against it than me doing arts.
And i remembered when I primary school, the thing I craved above all others was a gameboy, and really, there was only one game that I really really wanted to play. Pokemon. For 3 years, after every exam, there will be a day where everyone brings their gameboys to school. To make battle, to trade, and to play. And there alone amongst the players, there would be one pair of very envious eyes. Happy to get perhaps 15 mins of play from a friend. My parents was not against Pokemon, but rather the fact that I will own a device solely for the purpose of gaming, which they are once again, strongly opposed to. I remembered, buying a few copies of pirated CDs telling me that there's Pokemon in them, and rushing home to run in on my computer. The early attempts were sad and painful, the games were either not present, or I could not save my progress. And given that I've only an hour or so on the computer, ive played the opening sequence in all possible possibilities so many times. It was only until secondary school that I manage to properly play Pokemon on my computer. I also remembered borrowing a gameboy from a friend once in primary 6, I hid it in my bag and then a secret compartment in my room (a hole caused by a design flaw)and taking it out to play at the playgrounds in my hour out in the sun everyday for the 3 days I borrowed it for. It only lasted 2. Day 2 I was busted and scolded and made to return it the next day. I reached vermillion city. I will one day in JC own a psp, one I fondly named Morpheus. And people have asked once, or twice why I sometimes name my gadgets, well. That's why. And I never owned a gameboy in my life.
And then upper secondary and JC came, 4 years I still regard the best of my life until now. Ok, maybe living overseas this couple of years have been pretty sweet too. But events that transpired after my JC days have led to today. Another long period where I crave many one from my parents, a good good meal. I don't mean they don't feed me well now. But I have not had crab for what must have been the best part of 5 years and have not ate with them in a non-vegetarian restaurant for such a long time. Religion, health, and cost comes up as the reasons put forth to me. And I don't like to say this, but religion, over this past few years, have taken a toll on me and my relationship with my parents. I yearn for a day, perhaps a Sunday, where as a family, we could go out perhaps for dim sum, instead of having committments to the temple or vegetarianism. Or maybe a dinner, once a year when I return, where we go to a seafood restaurant, and order dishes I want. I may sound selfish, I know that more that anyone else, which is why it took me 4, and almost 5 years, to type this out. But theres this desire, and it's eating me from the inside.
Part 1 of why I am not enjoying Singapore right now.
Since I was a kid, the has always been something that I craved for with all my life, wanted so badly that I'd give anything for it. The things I want change as I grow, but I can still remember every vivid detail of my desire. I remembered in kindergarten the only toy I wanted, was a sword, a plastic one, any shape, any size. I remembered being caned for bringing sticks home posed at swords. I remembered power rangers being out of bounds because it promoted violence, and I remembered wanting them so badly I started drawing them on paper, and that continued till today. A look at my notes will most likely reveal a sword or two perfected since young, crafted by the mind, wielded only in spirit. And ask me now which medieval job I most want to do, and it'll be blacksmith, no doubt about that. In fact, I almost put it into practice, weapons design and engineering came up many times during my course selection and career decision. An option, vehemently opposed by my father. In fact, I think he was more against it than me doing arts.
And i remembered when I primary school, the thing I craved above all others was a gameboy, and really, there was only one game that I really really wanted to play. Pokemon. For 3 years, after every exam, there will be a day where everyone brings their gameboys to school. To make battle, to trade, and to play. And there alone amongst the players, there would be one pair of very envious eyes. Happy to get perhaps 15 mins of play from a friend. My parents was not against Pokemon, but rather the fact that I will own a device solely for the purpose of gaming, which they are once again, strongly opposed to. I remembered, buying a few copies of pirated CDs telling me that there's Pokemon in them, and rushing home to run in on my computer. The early attempts were sad and painful, the games were either not present, or I could not save my progress. And given that I've only an hour or so on the computer, ive played the opening sequence in all possible possibilities so many times. It was only until secondary school that I manage to properly play Pokemon on my computer. I also remembered borrowing a gameboy from a friend once in primary 6, I hid it in my bag and then a secret compartment in my room (a hole caused by a design flaw)and taking it out to play at the playgrounds in my hour out in the sun everyday for the 3 days I borrowed it for. It only lasted 2. Day 2 I was busted and scolded and made to return it the next day. I reached vermillion city. I will one day in JC own a psp, one I fondly named Morpheus. And people have asked once, or twice why I sometimes name my gadgets, well. That's why. And I never owned a gameboy in my life.
And then upper secondary and JC came, 4 years I still regard the best of my life until now. Ok, maybe living overseas this couple of years have been pretty sweet too. But events that transpired after my JC days have led to today. Another long period where I crave many one from my parents, a good good meal. I don't mean they don't feed me well now. But I have not had crab for what must have been the best part of 5 years and have not ate with them in a non-vegetarian restaurant for such a long time. Religion, health, and cost comes up as the reasons put forth to me. And I don't like to say this, but religion, over this past few years, have taken a toll on me and my relationship with my parents. I yearn for a day, perhaps a Sunday, where as a family, we could go out perhaps for dim sum, instead of having committments to the temple or vegetarianism. Or maybe a dinner, once a year when I return, where we go to a seafood restaurant, and order dishes I want. I may sound selfish, I know that more that anyone else, which is why it took me 4, and almost 5 years, to type this out. But theres this desire, and it's eating me from the inside.
Part 1 of why I am not enjoying Singapore right now.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
The Razor
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam's_razor
So simplicity over plurality?
Perhaps by far, the Occam's razor has been the most interesting aspect of clinical studies of the year. It is not always true, especially as the dear Proffesor said today, in old age, infancy, and many other genotypes of people. But its a beautiful concept nonetheless, and one i agree with. For in all our complexity and multiple diagnosis, perhaps what we are looking for is that one single explaination, a one truth if you may, to answer everything.
And you may tell me, that's perhaps taking the easy way out. Or perhaps that not what the razor's talking about anyway.
And of course. We all know that the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything is not 1, but 42.
So simplicity over plurality?
Perhaps by far, the Occam's razor has been the most interesting aspect of clinical studies of the year. It is not always true, especially as the dear Proffesor said today, in old age, infancy, and many other genotypes of people. But its a beautiful concept nonetheless, and one i agree with. For in all our complexity and multiple diagnosis, perhaps what we are looking for is that one single explaination, a one truth if you may, to answer everything.
And you may tell me, that's perhaps taking the easy way out. Or perhaps that not what the razor's talking about anyway.
And of course. We all know that the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything is not 1, but 42.
Monday, 21 May 2012
Past the point
There's a point, they say.
Halfway between the island and the coast.
Midpoint between half-empty and half-full.
The second when dawn become morning, and dusk becomes night.
And it's that point that I find myself wondering if i had past. If while smelling the roses, i had unwittingly wandered by. If while burying myself in books to pasts tests, I'd missed it knocking by my door. Some call it, the point of no return. That magical moment where the banker says 'no more bets'. That moment when you click 'Buy' on a website you swore moments ago never to shop on again. The second, the balls passes the line pass the goalkeeper's outstretched hand. That instant, when the scalpel hits the skins and makes the first incision, or may be the second, or the fifth. I wondered if mine had past the moment i decided to do medicine, or perhaps its was the day i decided to apply, or the day i paid my school fees, or the day i finished year one. Or perhaps the day have not arrived, perhaps it will never arrive. And perhaps we will be always able to choose our paths, be it now, or later in life.
Once again, i find myself thinking in poker terms. Its always a hard decision, when you have half your chips in and the opponent calls you. You have a chance, to perhaps go for the win. But with the chance to win, comes the chance to lose everything. Yet it is a chance you have to take, for you have so much in it already.
They say medicine is a calling. And I once heard it calling my name. I hear it still, time to time, when i find myself looking at a sad child, stricken with illness, or a man, spirit beyond broken repair, sometimes, when my compassion rises within me. But its not those time i am concerned about, its the hours i find myself wandering the hallways of the living dead, or finding myself having great difficulty bringing up that compassion when all i can think of is what am i going to ask next, or sometimes worse, when i feel sometimes perhaps that i shouldn't be there at all.
And its worse sometimes. When i feel myself not up to the tasks at hand, not prepared to give my life for others. When selfishness and laziness triumphs over selflessness and energy. When fatigue wins the war of mind and body.
And i wonder, if its something every student go through, to become a Doctor, to become a teacher, to become an engineer, to become a linguist, to become an actor, a singer, an artist, a unemployed. Do we all struggle with ourselves to win that fight? And what do we win, can passion be won? or cultivated? or is there somewhere, a calling involved.
The idealist in me is fighting for survival. fighting to no go past the point.
Halfway between the island and the coast.
Midpoint between half-empty and half-full.
The second when dawn become morning, and dusk becomes night.
And it's that point that I find myself wondering if i had past. If while smelling the roses, i had unwittingly wandered by. If while burying myself in books to pasts tests, I'd missed it knocking by my door. Some call it, the point of no return. That magical moment where the banker says 'no more bets'. That moment when you click 'Buy' on a website you swore moments ago never to shop on again. The second, the balls passes the line pass the goalkeeper's outstretched hand. That instant, when the scalpel hits the skins and makes the first incision, or may be the second, or the fifth. I wondered if mine had past the moment i decided to do medicine, or perhaps its was the day i decided to apply, or the day i paid my school fees, or the day i finished year one. Or perhaps the day have not arrived, perhaps it will never arrive. And perhaps we will be always able to choose our paths, be it now, or later in life.
Once again, i find myself thinking in poker terms. Its always a hard decision, when you have half your chips in and the opponent calls you. You have a chance, to perhaps go for the win. But with the chance to win, comes the chance to lose everything. Yet it is a chance you have to take, for you have so much in it already.
They say medicine is a calling. And I once heard it calling my name. I hear it still, time to time, when i find myself looking at a sad child, stricken with illness, or a man, spirit beyond broken repair, sometimes, when my compassion rises within me. But its not those time i am concerned about, its the hours i find myself wandering the hallways of the living dead, or finding myself having great difficulty bringing up that compassion when all i can think of is what am i going to ask next, or sometimes worse, when i feel sometimes perhaps that i shouldn't be there at all.
And its worse sometimes. When i feel myself not up to the tasks at hand, not prepared to give my life for others. When selfishness and laziness triumphs over selflessness and energy. When fatigue wins the war of mind and body.
And i wonder, if its something every student go through, to become a Doctor, to become a teacher, to become an engineer, to become a linguist, to become an actor, a singer, an artist, a unemployed. Do we all struggle with ourselves to win that fight? And what do we win, can passion be won? or cultivated? or is there somewhere, a calling involved.
The idealist in me is fighting for survival. fighting to no go past the point.
Monday, 14 May 2012
wrong side.
Its possible, i guess, to wake up on the wrong side of a bed even if there's only really one side of the bed you could get out off. You get one of those days where nothing seems to be going right, where you are forced to end off your email with thanks when there's none meant, and regards when the only regards is the ones you find in a italian mafia movie, cue godfather saying, 'Send my regards to his parents for me'. And then you turn to cook, and find fungus in your oyster sauce, and that the electric stove you've switched on for 5 minutes was actually not on at all. And you wish for a little luck, not that a little luck is ever enough.
And i guess its time like this that you have to take a step back. Pull out that bottle of Gin you have in your fridge. Add a little bit of fruit juice. And take a sip. And perhaps sit in front of your computer, guitar by your side, and muse about the world, and its coming and goings.
Couple of weeks back i talked about regaining a little of that confidence, a little bit of ego i have lost. And it seems now, and time to time that it just isn't me anymore. I hear the alpha male movie characters telling me that i'm becoming soft. and therein i guess lies the intrincities of the gardens of destiny, you never knows which paths leads where and what happens if you try to retrace your steps. Funny thing this life is, it changes with you, tripping you when you see no stone, yet lifting you when you're at the bottom of a well. Bob Marley comes to mind, 'Sold I to the merchant ships, minutes after they took I, from the bottomless pits'.
And it seems my mind is floating everywhere. Maybe due to the alcohol. Maybe the melancholy. But in any case, I don't think i can write much further.
Oh wells. Till next time.
And i guess its time like this that you have to take a step back. Pull out that bottle of Gin you have in your fridge. Add a little bit of fruit juice. And take a sip. And perhaps sit in front of your computer, guitar by your side, and muse about the world, and its coming and goings.
Couple of weeks back i talked about regaining a little of that confidence, a little bit of ego i have lost. And it seems now, and time to time that it just isn't me anymore. I hear the alpha male movie characters telling me that i'm becoming soft. and therein i guess lies the intrincities of the gardens of destiny, you never knows which paths leads where and what happens if you try to retrace your steps. Funny thing this life is, it changes with you, tripping you when you see no stone, yet lifting you when you're at the bottom of a well. Bob Marley comes to mind, 'Sold I to the merchant ships, minutes after they took I, from the bottomless pits'.
And it seems my mind is floating everywhere. Maybe due to the alcohol. Maybe the melancholy. But in any case, I don't think i can write much further.
Oh wells. Till next time.
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
Of forgotten words
You know how you sort of remember from the past, say a poem you wrote, then with feelings and emotions and magic, and now you just want to re-read it for its 'artistic value' or what not. So you open your computer, dig up the oldest files. And then you fail to find it. And then you remember it's in the old com at home, but yet none of the computers at home are as old as that poem which to be fair isn't that old. I guess that's what having a 'lesion' in your brain feels like. Like you know the memory is somewhere, but yet also know that that somewhere is beyond reach. And trouble is, such lesions are more often than not, irreversible.
Funny how our physiology reflects part of the world. Perhaps earth is really one big organism. And we are the cells, making 'lesions' while constantly renewing. Haha. No wonder so many has referred to ourself as the human cancer. Well, hopefully we find a cure to this cancer then.
Curious word this 'lesion', being used to describe anything from a missing chunk in the brain to a wart on your nose. Just curious.
'to hold them in their carpals'
Funny how our physiology reflects part of the world. Perhaps earth is really one big organism. And we are the cells, making 'lesions' while constantly renewing. Haha. No wonder so many has referred to ourself as the human cancer. Well, hopefully we find a cure to this cancer then.
Curious word this 'lesion', being used to describe anything from a missing chunk in the brain to a wart on your nose. Just curious.
'to hold them in their carpals'
Monday, 30 April 2012
And just trying to regain abit of that confidence, and a little of that flamboyance that made me me last time.
And that's i guess, the bad thing about change, you never quite know if you're heading in the right direction. FOr the past 5 years or so i've been trying to learn a lesson in humility. And perhaps i've gone around it the wrong way, as i find my self losing quite a bit of self confidence and quite frankly, my way in the world.
So i guess its time, not to abandon humility, but to try regain that confidence i once had. Or believe i once had anyway. See what i mean?
After all, confidence is key to scoring goals.
Till next time.
And that's i guess, the bad thing about change, you never quite know if you're heading in the right direction. FOr the past 5 years or so i've been trying to learn a lesson in humility. And perhaps i've gone around it the wrong way, as i find my self losing quite a bit of self confidence and quite frankly, my way in the world.
So i guess its time, not to abandon humility, but to try regain that confidence i once had. Or believe i once had anyway. See what i mean?
After all, confidence is key to scoring goals.
Till next time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)