MMG

n_n

Getting Old
I can feel it.
It started with the strained arm and shoulder on Sunday.
It's continuing with the badly sprained leg today.

Age is catching up.
A third of my life has passed by,
Resigned to mere recollection of memories of yester-years.

For all the meandering and drifting,
I have faith that the river will reach the sea eventually.

There may be questions,
There may be doubts,
Faith and trust will glow brighter with time.

Trust Thyself,
Every Heart Vibrates To That Iron String

Tapas

It was a good session.
To be able to say what I felt,
To listen to what you feel.

We all make choices in life.
Just don't understand why we cant replicate it in any business endeavours.
I feel it's risky,
You don't.
Belief.
Confidence.
That's all that matters, isn't it?
And of course,
Passion.

It's also sad to get the feeling that friendships,
Despite all these years of nurturing,
Trials and tribulations,
Are so fucking fragile.

Yet,
I'm the romantic sort.
I think that,
Another few years down the road,
We'll look back at this episode,
And laugh at ourselves,
And chide each other,
For the pettiness,
And ego and pride,
And temporary blindness...

I truly believe so.
We've been through quite a bit,
To let such a small thing upset the balance.
When push comes to shove,
When we are down and out,
We'll know who will be there,
And who won't.
In the end, it's all that matters.

Mirror In Between

It's been like a dream,
This past week.
The unreality of it all.

From the crest of a wave,
Top of the world,
To the plummeting depths,
And washed aground.

Trance-like,
I wonder:
What if my dreams mirror my waking thoughts?
How then do I differentiate?

In the end,
When the dust has settled,
All that matters,
Are the simple truths in a tangled web of complexity.
Nothing else matters...

Tempest

Life's like that isn't it?

A triple whammy in the middle of the night.
While a thunderstorm is raging outside,
(Making Furby frightened as hell),
An inner tempest is churning.

The electrifying and dizzying tumult outside,
Mirrors what I am feeling inside.

As long as you believe in me,
I will find the courage,
Somehow.

The storm has passed,
But the storm-ravaged land will still take some time to recover.
The sun will shine,
But time is still needed to dry up all the rain.

I Am Sorry

I am sorry for the hurt I have caused you.
I am sorry for the terrible words I have used on you.
On that fateful day - Aug 18th.

It had hurt me as much as it hurt you.
The words haunted me much longer than they have haunted you.
It impacts me right till now.
I replayed the scene so many times over and over,
Thinking of how I could have remedied the situation.
But I cannot.
For things have happened,
Words exchanged,
Insults traded,
Relationship charred.
I cannot undo the past nor the hurt.

The internal agony and sadness that I felt,
When I came to know about your pain and anger,
And how much I had hurt you,
Totally made the earlier issues I blogged about,
So insignificant and irrelevant.

I was relieved that you returned safely.
I was glad to see you.
I was happy that you called me on my birthday.
All these I did not convey.
Nor show.

Like everyone else,
I need to remind myself,
To practice what I preach.
For it is so easy,
To slip in the comfort zone,
Thinking everyone will be around forever,
And then taking them for granted.

Nobody will be.
They'll be gone before you can say tell them.
What you feel today should be said and acted upon today.
Tomorrow doesn't always come.
Sometimes not quickly enough.
A chance lost may not always be recovered.

Re-thinking what you said,
I am almost overwhelmed.
Yes, I agree.
I am a failure.
Of my own life.
This I admit.
And I seek to change.

I guess we both have the same kind of stubbornness,
And indignant righteousness in us,
To do such extreme things,
Than to bow to convenience.
Such personal pride.

Blood is always thicker than water.
I believe in that.
I also believe when no one believes in me,
You all would.
This is because I would believe in you,
Your character,
Your values and principles,
Over what anyone else says.

Dear sis,
I love you.
I really do.

Dear T

T,
I feel your pain of having someone close who chooses to doubt you,
At the first instance.
Love is a choice.
Choose to love.
Even if it brings pain and sorrow sometimes.
That's how we know we are truly living.

I have been behind this shield for so long.
What I feel and think,
All hidden.
The real me - hidden.
The vulnerable me - hidden.
No one knows the real me.
Sometimes not even myself.

I chose to open up recently,
To expose my vulnerabilities for all to see and criticize.
It's not because I'm stronger.
It's because I no longer want to portray just half the person that I am.
What you see is what you get.

Yet,
The more I reveal,
The more vulnerable I get.
And it doesn't help,
That it is at this precise moment,
I become judged.
By people close and near.
By people whom I thought should know better.
Ironic isn't it?

It's the same when you open your heart to someone else,
Whom you thought you can trust,
Who turns out to hurt you the most.

I can take this hurt.
I can take these transgressions.
For I had chosen to open up.
And I will continue to do so,
Step by step.

King Lear

In this age and day,
It takes just suspicions,
And not proof,
To destabilise,
The very foundation of a friendship or relationship,
Which had taken so long to nurture,
And of which so much had transpired and have been shared.

Is trust so old-school, passe and over-rated?
Is friendship really so fragile?
Are seeds of discord so easily sown between two friends?

People hear distorted truths from someone else who heard it from someone else,
And believe readily.
Does context matter anymore?
Does the protagonist have any say in things at all?

Here I am,
Standing accused;
A man more accused of than accusing.
I rage, I burn...
Ultimately,
I am saddened.
For which I hold at the most valued,
Is seen not with the same value.

A wise man sees not the same tree a fool does.
A friend judges not the transgressions of another friend.

I have not judged you.

Everyone can think what they want of me.
They are entitled to.
But to the people who matter most,
You should know better.

说好的幸福呢?

Of all things,
It all hinges upon a receipt.

From the ashes,
A phoenix always rises.

We look without seeing,
We hear without listening,
We feel without really realising,
We say without really thinking,
We love without really showing.

a little clarification

Little Epiphanies in Life

Today,
I had an infuriatingly exasperating debate with T,
My colleague.
He was conventional,
An old-school Romantic,
In his thoughts and examples.
I almost went berserk halfway,
He could have just walked out from a black-and-white movie;
But after years of training in the human condition,
I opened up and eased up.
I listened to his thoughts and views on how the world should be,
Why it is what it is,
Why people act the way they do,
How guys and gals are different,
Etc.
It was a breath of fresh air actually.
I'm sick of those people who say not what they feel,
But what they should say,
What is suitable for the different situations.
You see someone smiling,
But we all know s/he is not smiling nor happy.
I may not totally agree with T on what he said,
But at least he had conviction and belief when he articulates his opinions.
How many times have I heard mouthpieces echoing the thoughts of their bosses?

T gave me another dimension to my current conundrum.
Advice is free,
Just dish them out.
I'm excellent at dishing them out,
At analyzing people's problems,
But when woe betide me,
It's like using a telescope to scrutinize a microscopic issue.
Or the other way round;
Like using a microscope to analyze the Universe.
Either way,
I end up hopelessly clueless,
And mired deeper in the quagmire.

Life has a funny way of getting back at us.

I have had things too easy in my life.
This made me the person I am right now.
Courageous in words,
But lacking in valour.
I've never had to work hard for anything.

T is right when he asked if I could really do certain things.
He scoffed when I said I could.
Actions speak louder.
Stop reflecting and writing.
Start acting.

Y was right when he asked what can I bring to the table?
What is my value?

The little epiphanies in life are in essence,
Gleaned from the commonplace,
The simple and homely.

I shall leave what D commented to another day,
Or let it fizzle with time.
For now,
I have work to complete.

Since my HP is down,
I've decided to do an experiment.

I'm staying handphone free for 1 week...
We'll see what happens...

The Workplace And Its Many Lessons

It's 930pm and I'm still in office.
Finishing up on work,
And wondering if I should go mambo tonight...

Tomorrow will be a duper long day if I do.

Had an insightful discussion on the many facets of Life with two colleagues just now.
I'm slowly learning that we gotta each make our choices,
And let the choices make us.

Played a practical joke on colleagues today,
It wasn't funny to some.
Maybe I should tone down such "jokes".
It's a thin line really,
Not clearly demarcated nor marked.

Well,
We all see things through different lenses
Some darkly,
Some rosy,
Some tinted.

baby steps

Righting The Wrongs

The drive back home after all the music and alcohol,
Always bring out the emptiness and loneliness.

When friends depart,
When the artificiality and superficiality are stripped away,
When the intoxication dissipates,
When reality sets in,
One cannot lie to the person in the mirror.

I feel exactly what I'm feeling,
I cannot hide from my own inquisition.

Yet I cannot answer my own questions.
I cannot allay my own anxieties.
I cannot fathom my own decisions.

I burn, I pine, I perish.
I wish, I hope, I regret.

Life is too short.
To not act upon my heart's desires.
It took me 26 years to realise.

Are you afraid to be the same in your own act and valour,
As you are in desire?

Yes I am.
I'm afraid.
I'm apprehensive.
All my life,
I've lacked courage when it matters.

Courage is not scaling the highest mountain;
It is not plunging into that icy river.
Adrenalin enables us to do that.

Courage is facing your own fears,
Striving to conquer them,
Against your better judgement.

The Regretful Blues

For someone who seems to have it all,
In actual fact,
He has nothing.

Tonight is a blue blue night.
It doesn't matter that the moon is hanging,
Nor does stars shining intrigue me.

I cannot sleep.
I cant be bothered about this.
I cant be bothered about anything else.

才離開沒多久就開始
擔心今天的妳過得好不好
整個畫面是妳
想妳想的睡不著
嘴嘟嘟那可愛的模樣
還有在妳身上香香的味道
我的快樂是妳
想妳想的都會笑
沒有妳在我有多難熬
沒有妳在我有多難熬多煩惱
沒有妳煩我有多煩惱
沒有妳煩我有多煩惱多難熬
穿過雲層
我試著努力向妳奔跑
愛才送到
妳卻已在別人懷抱
就是開不了口讓她知道
我一定會呵護著妳也逗妳笑
妳對我有多重要
我後悔沒讓妳知道
安靜的聽妳撒嬌
看妳睡著一直到老
就是開不了口讓她知道
就是那麼簡單幾句我辦不到
整顆心懸在半空我只能夠遠遠看著
這些我都做得到但那個人已經不是我

As Midnight Approaches

The sky is aglow,
Sinister-red,
Overcast with ashen clouds.
Molten street lights flicker,
Fluttering of a bat's wings,
Invisible shadows lurking at every corner,
Chills from an unsentimental night.

A solitary figure runs.

Seeking who he is,
Who he can be,
And who he will be.

Pondering his very existence,
And running in circles,
He reaches his end point
- His starting point.

Weary and no closer,
To what he thinks he seeks.

Deep down,
He already knew.
He just didn't have the courage,
To leap rather than walk,
To proclaim rather than speak,
To listen rather than hear,
To feel rather than suppress,
To ruminate rather than idle,
To act rather than hesitate,
To love rather than regret.

All his life,
He pretended,
To be strong,
To be nonchalant.
To be or not to be?

Courage is about facing your fears,
Conquering them,
Comprehending them.
For it is human to fear the unknown.
It is also human to love the unknown.

On such a night,
He ran an arduous avenue,
Besieged by untold memories,
Hazy images,
Neglected feelings.

The passing of midnight came swiftly and silently,
Ghosting past,
Fading like a spectre in the dark.

On such a night,
Filled with meditations,
Armed with words,
He wrote.

He seeks not the end point,
But the journey.
For it is through the process,
Where he felt anguish, despair and fatigue,
That he truly lived.
It makes the end point feels like deliverance and salvation,
Rather than a requiem.

An Ode To My Wunderful Colleagues

Where does one begin?

You are the sinful sugary saccharine dessert that completes a meal;
You are the source of gossips that make lunches infinitely more interesting;
You bring sanity to the nonsensical world of KPIs and dreary meetings;
You are the invisible hand that gently guides and prods;
You are the filtered sunlight that provides just enough warmth;
You are the accommodating victim of my terribly lame jokes;
You bring back pieces of another land for everyone every holiday;
You are the silent totem of support that lights a lonely wind-swept street;
You are the MOMer that accumulates an abundance of annual leave by working every single day!
Your wishes and company makes growing older so much more bearable.

Like the misty showers of rain,
It is the finality and the transient nature of joy,
That makes it so hard to attain,
Yet so immeasurably gratifying.

Of Furby

I absolutely adore Furbs!

Nothing beats him for pure happiness,
When you see him bouncing up and down,
Wagging his tail furiously,
With those bright lazy eyes of his,
Gazing longingly at his snack area above the shoe cupboard,
After a long day from work.

Of course he gets fat!
How can anyone not feed him when he looks at you like that!?

A Little Emptiness

Deep within,
In a slow torment,
A tempest rises,
Clouding what should have been clear.
A void that's faceless,
An emptiness that's relentless.
Insistence, resistance and persistence.
Oh! How I have pretended!
An empty shell is me.
Like clockwork!
I see the world,
But it does not see me back.
I feel the world,
But it does not feel me back.

I tasted blood,
My own.
I felt pain,
My heart.

Encased in the silence of a cold room,
The man is cold too.
The heart beats,
With cynicism and fear,
For it is lost and wandering.
Through the ages,
And woods of experience.
Somewhere, Somehow...
It has lost what it was searching for,
What propels it forward thus then,
Is merely the notion of fulfillment,
The ecstasy of finally knowing what to seek,
And the contentment of finding.
Crossroads abound,
By the wayside many have fallen.

In such troubled times,
There's no one to hear my calls.
Soldiering on,
The mist which veils,
The footpath which trips,
The light that flickers dimly,
It is but emptiness and solitude.

The aftermath of a party often leaves one with such feelings.

New (Heart) Blood Come Tide

As i was telling Wenqi,
We are all like driftwood,
Meandering down the stream of life;
Direction-less,
Buffeted by the curvatures and undulation of terrains.

Beyond our control;
Afraid to struggle,
Yet drowning in waves of pragmatism and practicality.
We dont risk;
We dont venture out on paths less travelled.
We walk on the safe side of the road;
We dont dare to tell people our wildest dreams,
For fear of ridicule,
For we know it's merely a fantasy.
We dont park on double-yellowed lines,
For we fear the Fatimahs.
We queue up in orderly lines,
And we expect the same orderliness from everyone else.
We maintain a posterior of reservation when faced with something new,
Are we that jaded?
We check out the latest accident on the lane beside us,
Just to take down the numbers and speculate on the actual chain of events.
We buy the latest gadget just because someone else has them;
The LVs, the COACHes, the TIFFANYs, the GUCCIs, the iPods.
We all need someone to listen to us ramble on and on about nothing,
But we dont stop to listen.
We all know we must end this ennui and indolence,
But the currents are too strong and we are too weak to swim against them.
We all know she is the wrong one for us,
Yet we persist in digging up a hole to jump into.
We indulge in sentimentalism and reminiscence,
We think about what might have been;
What if???
We call strangers friends.
And friends?
We dont keep in touch as much as we should have.
There's always tomorrow to catch up.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
We take our family and home for granted.
We get irritated when parents nag.
We dont come home for lunches and dinners anymore.
We dont talk anymore.
We delight in comparing the contact list in our facebook.
We wallow in self-gratification when people send us virtual gifts or 'poke' us.
How many of them are true?
How many are acquaintances?
We pretend to like the songs that everybody else likes.
We are concerned by people's comments when these people dont mean anything to us.
We judge others as they judge us with deluded self-righteousness.
We give to charity just for that immunity sticker.
Those school kids holding tin cans compare whose is heavier.
Is charity artificial?
We think losing a football match all the time is alright.
We have tried, havent we?
Have we?
Is our best good enough?
We make the same mistakes,
We gloss over them with opinions that the other team is better.
They are faster, they are fitter, they are younger, they are more skillful.
We make up excuses to cover our shortcomings.
Yet we dont strive to improve.
We dont think how to improve.
We change formations and positions hoping that things will work out.
In the playing field of life,
Do we play like that?
We model ourselves upon others,
So much that we lose our own identity.
We become our boss's mouthpiece,
Eschewing our true opinions.
We become apologists.

We become someone else.

Such Liberation, The Dashes Of Rain

The morning torrential rain was strangely liberating.
The feel of stinging cold dashes on my skin created an heightened awareness long forgotten;
What it feels like to really live and breathe.
It is just you and the elements.

Just as the rain-induced misty veil masked what was once clear,
And the rippled puddles form contorted images,
The transient nature of truths and the many facades they reside behind,
Becomes at once apparent and cloaked.

Last Published, April Eleventh

It's been almost one year.
So much has happened.
Nothing much has happened.
I've been to Tibet and back.
Spiritually intact.
I've been to Europe and back.
Friendship intact.
Loads of countries I've visited.
Yet,
I'm still me.
Despite the host of places I've visited,
The cultures I've tried to assimilated into,
The breathtaking sceneries I've captured,
I return unfazed.
Perhaps I'm too jaded,
Too nonchalant.
As I always say,
Water off a duck's back.
One year on,
I'm at a crossroad.
The major crossroad of my life.
People trivialize the word "crossroad" too much.
This is a word of change.
A word that connotes a paradigm shift in one's life.
Yes.
Indeed I am at the crossroads of my life.

Months back,
I was browsing at Borders.
I chanced upon a flimsy yellow book.
It was a cross between a diary and a calendar.
While flipping through it's coarse pages,
One and only one quote struck me.
"You are what you'll ever be at the age of twenty-five."
So simple, so poignant, so succinct.
What this phrase did to me,
Was to highlight,
In neon colours,
Everything that was wrong with my life.
Everything that I should have done but never did.
All my regrets started flooding back,
Streaming with anguish and pain at what I have missed.
Everything that I should have said,
But never did.
Those moments where I should have leapt,
But walked.
For all the hard tackler in a football game,
For all the Ah-Beng in me,
For all the nonchalant cool persona I portray,
For all the risk-taking gambles I take,
When it comes to the crunch,
I falter.
When it comes to the showdown,
I hesitate.
When push turns to shove,
I lack courage.

Are you afraid to be the same in your own act and valor as you are in desire?
Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would".
Was the hope drunk while you dressed yourself?
Has it slept since and stirs now?
To be more than what you were,
You would be so much more the man.
Nor time nor place did you adhered,
They have thus made themselves to unmake you.

Sometimes I feel that I'm a walking contradiction.
So simple yet so complex.
Just like friendship.
Just like love.

Some people think friendship is over-rated.
When you are married;
Start your own family;
Friendship is supposed to take a backseat to career and family.
We are not even talking about your own mother and father and sister and brother.
Your wife and kids become of paramount importance.
Who needs real friends anyway?
We are too preoccupied with work and loans and kids and wife.
What friends?
No time.
Not free.
I dont want.
Some dont even wait till after marriage to think so.
The little signs that we exhibit when we were kids,
Of our priorities in life,
Are exactly manifested in adulthood.
We become obsessed with money and status and fame and reputation,
Just like we were obsessed with grades and girls and grades and girls.

Give every man thine ear,
But few thine voice.
Take each man's censure,
But reserve thy judgement.

We choose.
We decide.
We prioritise.
We act.
We speak.
What's unsaid and undone and unchosen and unvalued hurts the most.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear times' waste:
Then can i drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances forgone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell over
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think of you, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

A toast to all,
Dear friends,
Who have crossed my life,
Left their marks,
Walked with me,
Laughed and cried with me,
And are still walking with me.