Mum & Dad

U-12 Singapore World Cup 2001 ‘B’ Team

I stumbled on a black & white photograph I took in 2001 of the ‘team’ picture I took on timer-delay in Sydney of the ‘World-cup’ pose of the unofficial Singaporean football team. (I’m the guy at the top right corner, standing behind that squatting chao gangster of ‘eusoff’ the dickhead… hahaha.. How are you, Joseph btw?)

Looking at the faces including my own brings back memories. Nothing profound mind you. Just idle thoughts of the past. On thing that did stand out was the thoughts of my family and home, Singapore. I think about it all the time.

Especially on Sundays. Why? Its the Sunday thing. From the school days to the NS period (less so now in the working world) where the impending drawing down of Sunday into ’sun-nites’ marks the dreaded return to school, army or work. The slipping away of personal time. I remember the dreary train ride to CCK to book-in the night where upon reaching the bus-stop of the feeder service to camp we squeeze aboard like zombies. Its was a vehicle of the downcast. You could see it in all our eyes. The muted, dulled pain of separation from our individualities and loved ones…Sorry got side-tracked…hehehe

Ahem… on with the story…I had screwed my ‘A’s in 1996 in JC primarily due to the lack of trying. Thats another story really… damn, its been what? 10 years now. oooohhh, times flies even when you’re not having fun.

Anyway, I was kinda in a limbo really. Didn’t know what I was doing nor where I was going. Knowing me I probably would have easily gone down the path of despair & destruction had it not been my parents.

The thing is they not only provided the means but also breathe life into the impulse of sending me to Australia to study. All because of two people that believed in me even when I had my doubts. Really they shook the shi* out of me and I woke up. Heh, all done in the gentle parental way that only experienced parents can, you know. Gave me a reason to get my self-respect back.

They did this on the setting of already having a child in Melbourne and they were going to send slackass me to Sydney. On working class salaries. How they coped I do not know, I mean Dad was perpetually on and off jobs. Mum did her best with her sales-rep job. Neither ever spoke of the sacrifices they made. It would have been easy for anyone to say ‘No, its really quite impossible’ and so on. But not them.

I can only imagine the ‘realities’ strewn upon them by doubtful relatives & by friends, of the fears that must grip them as the lay down to sleep thinking about just how they would cope. I will not pretend to envisage that I understand their difficulties nor begin to trivalise their efforts but just being aware of this gift that they have given, with not a single attachment to it starts something within. Somedays when I get up and feel like ’screw everyone else’ I remind myself of their act. Their nobleness makes me aspire to be more of a fellow-man and less of an asshole.

To my parents. Mum, Dad, I’m eternally grateful. And because of what you did I try everyday to be a better person, sometimes I fall by the way-side but when things look the worst I think of them and push on. Thank You.

Apology sincere

Wooaah, today’s been pretty productive eh?

Anyway I wrote this for someone from a long time back.
Its an apology, I think
I know she’ll never come across this but still…

Here goes:

I realise that I am probably a memory you do not want to recall. It is probably a good thing too.

Now, some time since the whole affair. It occurred to me that I did not sit down and write about it. When you do you think calmly. Things become clearer as they often do in hindsight.

I blame myself for the whole thing. I was angry without knowing why. Not that the problem has been resolved but its reason has since become clearer.

I had walked down too many wrong paths since then and it is only through the combined and continued goodwill and kind graces of uncommon strangers and kin that I am not in a gutter as I otherwise would undoubtedly be.

It seems like when you have started on the wrong foot you never quite shake it off. Like an hideously ugly scar you forever hide.

Writing now, I know you will probably never get to read this. Perhaps the reason why this is directed to you is because I find it easier to externalise what I feel. That is to write to somebody.

And it’s easiest to write to someone who’s special, even if it was all past.

You probably have felt it. About this. Sometimes certain things or events spark off an impulse to feel something, to want to do something. Most times you never get it down on paper. It gets lost. Lost forever. The best thoughts and intentions are never said. They are never known. Forgotten to forever drift off some distant breeze.

Often the memories that are provoked drive me crazy. It drives me close to the edge. Sometimes I plunge off. I never hit bottom though… funnily. I think the pain most often comes from the fact that I fucked up. I fucked it up. On my own. Without anyone’s help. Not having someone to blame or having a handy excuse to hide behind.

Then I feel the searing ache, I turn and run to hide behind the petticoat of defeat. Comforting, accepting defeat. And slowly die a little every time. I know I have already spent a great deal of life’s reserves to this point. I know I am close to the end.

Yet I still am weak. I still run and hide. Run because it is easier. Hide because I feel I can no longer gather enough strength to face my demons. To face them.

But I must. I must because I know tomorrow, maybe the day after, someone will come, something will happen and my life will begin to thaw once more. I need to gather and spark the fire…

My Thoughts

These two pieces below is some stuff I wrote from a while back. I like ‘Wait’ better.
Its pretty dauting, placing your rubbish out for all to see.
Man, who comes here anyway?

So here goes…

Wait

The final rays streaks the path
Dying sun sets ahead
The day’s journey now closing
Upon a tree, a man shelters
The cool light of the yielding sun

With closed eyes yet all-seeing
The bald one questions
For one who thinks to leave it all
Can you begin after the fire starts?
Does standing still take away your strength?

Forgotten, the packs stand silent
Now cold, the tires deform, seeking their real shape
Home greets the muted leaves
Goodbyes whispered, kissed long ago
Still hang amidst, ghostly waiting the return

Finally he looks upon me
Upon the memory of light he smiles
Your physical longings you discard
Former memory now a yellowed page
Far from the abode, still the keys you keep

H. C. Seah

Rain

 

Behind the dark hollowed,
Smell the water
Silvered arrows falling into the ground
Their joyous little consequences leaping straight back
Vainly wishing the heavens again

Between the cold gaps,
Taste the nostalgia
Slanted liquid enticed by unseen emotions
Her drifting mists gently into the wind
Their slow elegance somehow knowing

Into the necessary dark
Feel the moving
Tempestuous cold against the naked skin
Caresses only to comfort
Its prophecies, my tender longings

For I know
Under the only sky, Behind the thundering greys
Between the ghostly chills, Into the devil’s maw
Lies untainted
The bluish lithe beauty of another day
True only to tomorrow
And the believers

H.C. Seah

Do you know what you Really want?

It seems a little like when you get what you want, its never quite as satisfying as you first thought.

The beauty of modern life. Its been said before:

We have more speed but less time
Our wallets’ are fatter buying empty goods

We do more now but accomplish less
Knowing more than we ever did but not understanding why

Our lives are spent hurried place to place going nowhere
We compressed our lives trying to get more, squeezing them
to death

We come back to homes over-filling in content
ringingly empty in life.

And here I end my rant. Thanks for playing.

Kiwi-speak (Blinded by Rainbows – Rolling Stones)

Just finished speaking to a good pal, a childhood friend. Can’t say I feel much better after the conversation. Still after it all, at least I know I I’m not alone nor do I feel lonely anymore. The reason for this chirpy mood is that after 5+ years of tertiary education I feel like an accomplished professional idiot. I’ve achieved a great sum of nothingness, and I wonder should that matter. I’m a direction-less compass, spinning giddily, an insane pirouette.

Perhaps looking back at this post later down the track I will rue the inaccuracy and futile despondency flavoring this post. Then again should anyone regret the tread of footprints they lay down? Without that set no matter how seemingly wrong, they would not exist in that particular point in space and time. Alright, enough bull-crap…

I probably cannot say how much I appreciate knowing Bird-boy and Co. (Trying to elucidate [phwoooar, powderful vocab sial...] would cheapen it). They give a sense of gravity in a senseless world; like bubbles in a disorienting underwater cavern. Together with my family, they hold my self-worth.

Baby-blue chords dream past
Eyelids of angel’s orbs
The warm womb not to wake

Hui Chyuan