foreword

Never thought I’d see the light of day, but there it was, then. Right in front of me – peeking out from dawn’s bosom, tentative. Is it the right time to wake up? Is Thor done with taking that long pee, or being so pissed off he hit his wife and made her cry, then the children began crying and they needed running water to wash the run off their noses? They may start with it again, but for now you can come out, little one. Give life like no man can. Tentative, ginger. The days spent in hiding have made you shy.

Signs which show I am currently not in a state to post anything:

• I’m losing very badly at solitaire.
• I’m grinning like an idiot
• I’ve been drinking 5 cups of green tea at one go
• And then peeing loads after that
• That might screw me up a bit
• Still grinning like an idiot
• I just shouldn’t post lah, so go away.
• I mean it, SHOO.

I am stuffing myself with peanut butter as I digest the news Joleen has broken to me. This is very tragic.

I don’t know. I think making it a movie will just take away its magic. I think I’ll end up watching it anyway. When it comes out. If it comes out. Tragedy this is.

Anyway. I reckon I’ll be in seventh heaven for the next few days. I have (finally) replenished my supplies of fruit, cereal, milk and peanut butter. [Chocolates aren't mentioned as they have NEVER been out of stock thank you very much] I can finally feel whole again. Sort of. So far the peanut butter is giving me the sensation of ‘very full’. We’ll see how we advance from there.

And I have nothing more to say. Besides having written something about the sun finally shining only to have it pour again after I was done with it. Damn the world of ironies.

Everytime I open this window I have the intention to write something. But when my fingers hover above the keys I get stuck. I forget what it is I wanted to say.

Hmm.

Oh the season of family gatherings. I’ve decided that I hate it. It revolves around talking, sharing; yes. But the thing is no one’s listening. They only want to be heard. Hey look – I know more than you do. That puts me at a higher level than the one you are on. How about that? Sitting at the table and watching the people talk I had to do everything I could not to just laugh out loud. Literally. For god’s sakes no one is bothering to really hear anything, it is just so ironically comical that everyone is only waiting for their turn to speak. That’s right kids – welcome to adult life.

But on a more serious note – I will not deny that it’s not happening to the people about me now. Gosh I won’t even deny that I do that. It’s just that it served as a little wake up call for me. I begin to love talking to the people whose only verbal competition is that of light gossip even more than I already do.

So Lest We Forget (hello terkey), let’s not allow ourselves to delve into the world of Materials and Status.

OH AND ONE MORE THING. I think I have finally, finally, finally found the something that has been making me feel empty for the past couple of weeks. The missing link to my feeling accomplished, satisfied, happy.

Cereal. I need my breakfast cereals. NOW. Muesli, if possible.

It’s like this abyss in a well. With ice for walls.

It’s cold, cold in here.

And the rain refuses to relent.

Something’s wrong, something I have no clue of. Is there such a thing as a ‘wrong’, does it exist?

I should cut my nails.

Whatever it is I’m gonna make sure I settle the problem. Is it even a problem? Maybe it’s always been there and I never took note. Didn’t let myself take note.

Where’s the nail clipper?

2am on the clock.

It’s been raining for a while now.

I am reading the Time Traveller’s Wife – hopelessly hooked on it.

Suddenly there is an immensely bright flash of light outside the window within the peripheral vision of my right eye.

Then comes the evitable: a powerful – albeit slow – roar.

A car’s alarm is triggered by this force, and its variation of piercing melodies rings out for the sleepless to hear.

I used to be crazy about books. (I’ll kick anyone who tries to be funny and says ‘Textbooks?’) (though that’s something I would say)

R L Stine was my first love – what with his Goosebumps and Fear Street series of books, there never seemed to be enough, I never seemed to be able to get them all. Christopher Pike was another – I wasn’t very keen on his Spooksville series, it was more his more adult novels that got to me. He had great storylines, this guy.

That was in Primary school. Those two authors were the ones who basically cemented the fundamentals of my English language. Thank goodness for that – I’d probably suck at both Chinese and English if not for the books I’d read.

[Here is a chunk of paragraphs where I began to digress.]

The early part of my Secondary School life was accompanied by Francine Pascal’s Fearless series. I never really liked her Sweet Valley stuff, so it was quite refreshing to have her write books of a whole other mood, genre. Then when I started visiting the library on my own it was Iris Johansen’s thrillers and Terry Brooks’ urban fantasy books that I read. 

Why am I talking about books all of a sudden? Because in Primary school whenever I stepped into a Popular bookstore it was straight to the fiction/teens/fantasy department that I went. In Secondary school it was the fiction department that I would scan when I went to the library. Or the many books in borders that I would read the summary of, read the first few pages of, wishing I had all the money in the world to buy those books (Money for food and other useless stuff was priority then).

I think I lost that, about a year ago. Now I just have phases. And the phases when I don’t even bother giving a second look at books are getting longer relative to the contrary. I could walk into Borders and be uninterested in even browsing around. It’s quite scary.

Am trying to rekindle it though – I’ve been borrowing some, and I even bought myself a book! (because I had 30% off its price).

Just finished Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, moving on to the Audrey Niffenegger’s the Time Traveller’s Wife. Now this book I think I’ll keep my eyes glued on for quite a bit - it’s got a freaking original plot, and I’m loving the 30-odd pages of it that I’ve read so far.

I love it when some books just sweep you up and plant you into another world. Not all books/movies can achieve this effect.

I realy don’t know what I’m driving at in this post. But what the hell. Leave me alone, I want to read my book.

Chiangmai pics will be posted up soon. RIP, my camera who drowned one fateful day.

Finished the game in 79 seconds. Does that say something? Either that or I’m saying something stupid.

Today the moon is exceptionally large and bright. But nope, tonight’s not the right night to eat mooncakes. Try harder next time. But for a moment it looked like an explosion. A big ball of explosion, isn’t that how they always describe it? One huge orb emitting rays of light all over the night sky. Imagine chunks of metal and debris flying off from the impact. So yea, there’re wars in outer space, and this time it’s really near. I wonder who won. Maybe the aliens have come to take over.

Doesn’t matter really. Cause I’ll be flying out of here anyway. …to the country that recently had a coup. Okay it’s the same thing then.

I ate lots of fruits today. Some cranberries, blueberries, mangoes and 3 apples. I’m hoping I get to, ah, get in touch with nature today. Answer its call and all. So that I don’t export my crap to another country. Later they make me pay tax then how.

Just finished reading last year’s ChiangMai journal. Now there’s this mix of feelings. The want to go and experience it all over again, the want not to waste my time being more of a burden to those we’re supposed to help. But it’s not as if I have a choice. So just go I will.

And yes I have decided to take the plunge. Nothing to lose anyway.

And I shall end off here, not as dramatic an entry as was written for last year’s trip. But something special for you guys anyway:

He’ll be staring at you every time you visit this page before the 15th. Which isn’t really a bad thing.

So good night, and goodbye.

2.19am on the clock, and I’m playing solitaire. I’ve got this weird addiction to it ; when I’m waiting for something, or don’t feel like sleeping just yet I open the game and start moving the cards around. And it seems to be able to read me – sometimes it doesn’t let me win because. Lets me win because. It either makes the situation better or worse.

Why’s it called solitaire anyway? Because you play it on your own?

This time I don’t feel like sleeping. I ought to, soon. I need to remind myself to go dig up my journal from last year’s Chiangmai trip. Whatever treasures it holds I need to see, to know, before I go on this second trip. That’s how we learn. Study before the test.

And as time goes by and you hear its laughter in the distance you have to stop and reflect. I feel richer with knowledge as days pass, as would everyone else. Yet poorer in all other departments. And I really mean all. So many things, so many things. Soul suckers, them. Whoever said that growing up is a good thing ought to be shot. I wonder if anyone ever did say it. I know I didn’t. Except when there were stupid age restrictions that I wanted to sneak by. But that’s not really counted. Don’t ask me why.

Take away our playstations, and we are a third world nation.

I don’t know what I want for me, and I have to decide tomorrow at the meeting. So, so weird. It’d be dumb to plunge in, with two voices talking, one encouraging, one screaming no don’t you do such a dumb thing, but it’s been a while since they started and now they’re just this little mesh of voices. Carolling, just in time for Christmas. But I have done a lot of dumb things before, so whatever it is that I end up doing won’t matter, whether it was a good decision made or a bad one, or maybe there isn’t a good one out there. Nothing is perfect.

Smiling used to be perfect. Now I even see a frown on Rocky’s face ; he can’t help it though, gravity pulls his ‘beard’ downwards, and it just looks like one. I tried to push it up a couple of times, he looked real cute smiling. But then it all fell down again. My mom likes him like this though. She says you’re still the handsomest of all. I think he could look handsomer, frownless and all.

And I think I could have played better. But I will not think about it anymore – what’s done is past, whatever length of beard that is grown can be cut off later, and I can always try again. I will let myself try again.

But only after I’ve remedied what’s missing. What’s lost.

So many things stay that way, you know. Never found.

Solitaire game is already at more than 1500 seconds, I forgot it was still running.

Muse (myz)
n.

1. Greek Mythology. Any of the nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus, each of whom presided over a different art or science.
2. muse
   1. A guiding spirit.
   2. A source of inspiration.
3. muse A poet.

mag·ic (mjk)
n.

1. A mysterious quality of enchantment: “For me the names of those men breathed the magic of the past” (Max Beerbohm).

miss·ing (msng)
adj.

1. 1. Not present; absent.
   2. Lost: a missing person; soldiers missing in action.
2. Lacking; wanting: This book has 12 missing pages.

dull (dl)
adj. dull·er, dull·est

1. Lacking responsiveness or alertness; insensitive.
2. Lacking in force, intensity, or acuteness