104: of peach tea and ice cream latte

this isn't a poem
this is my train of thoughts
processing.

{{{rewind

my peach tea
your ice cream latte

talking about
spices and herbs in drinks
and how you're keen to experiment
and i couldn't bring myself to.

//and i remember you wanting
tangerine and cardamom tea.
it sounds odd,
but if you made it,
i'm pretty sure
i might try it at least once.//

and then we chatted
and laughed a little too loud
making fun of wwe
singing flight of the conchords
-- your fav is 'you're so beautiful... like a tree'

talking about what our 10 year olds
would think of us if they saw us right now
yours would be somewhat unimpressed
by your hair
(which i find extremely cute);
and he'd ask, whispering, "who's the girl?"

(why are you so cute?!)

i told you i almost ran away when i was 9
and i bundled up my stuff like doraemon did
and you laughed because i brought up doraemon.
i like it when you laugh.
(perhaps a bit too much)

then we went down for you to pray
and i was doodling and forgot to look at the time
and when i saw you standing outside
i couldn't help but smile

(seriously,
why are you so cute?)

we skipped gelato
"or you'll have to hold it for me"
and you asked if i wanted to drive around with you
as if i could say no

in your white mini, beatles in the air
driving around in circles
driving around in silence
driving around with tears rolling down my cheeks
because you wanted me to let it all out

\\you played julia once.
and you said you listened to it repeatedly
after you dropped me off,
it's such a sad song.
(i wish i could ask you
why you listen to such sad songs)\\

you try to understand.
you understand me
despite only knowing me for a week plus.

what's up with you?

we parked and looked over the valleyed city
near the top of the hill.
you relaxed and reclined your seat;
you cracked your bones,
you apologised.
= don't worry about it
bones cracking
= you can do anything you want.
startled, "what?"
= yeah, you can crack your bones, stretch, whatever
"so you're ok with me breaking my spine half?'
= what? NO---fine, you can do anything you want, as long as your don't hurt yourself
= ... or others
"ok then."

and then you asked
"how does this feel?"
= hmm?
"what do you think of this?"
= what do you mean?
"what do you think 'it' means?"
= [us being here?]
[i think he said yes, but his real meaning seemed concealed]
= umm...
i felt like i would burst
i wanted to touch you
i wanted to tell you how much i like you
i wanted to know how you really felt about me
but all i said was
= it's nice
(i can't ruin this moment)
(i can't ruin whatever 'it' was)
(i can't ruin whatever we are)

and you gave me your wooden bracelet
which i'd wanted since the last meeting.

and at night, on the phone, you said:
[thank you for making my december memorable]
just something along those lines
i can never remember if it's too long

but i do remember this:
"you're adorable"
= so are you
"umm. thank you."

i try to understand all this.
it's hard.

where do we go from here?
what do i do?

i'm already missing you so much.

103: different heights

you're a kite flying high,
vocal and foreign,
lifted by winds;

i'm a balloon stuck in a tree,
global and mislain,
losing my helium;

both tied down:
you, with an almost-invisible string,
me, with an ever-existing frown.

102: will i?

no --

i will not fall for it.

i will resist temptation.

i will stop this urge.

i will control myself.

i will allow my ego
to save whatever's left of my pride.

after all,

that's the only thing i can do
that i feel i am actually
in control of.

so ---

you will grip your chest tightly.

you will close your eyes and look away.

you will block and hum out those words.

you will not be swayed.

you will try to make sense
of your lack of sensibilities;

after all,

that's the only thing you can do
that will prevent a swollen heart
one more time.

101: Lady Negativa returns

I am

sad and mad and

bored and boring.

I am

overbrimming with wtfiswrongwithyous

and drowning in youneverdoanythingrights.

But most importantly:

I am

Trapped.

I am

inside the abyss of my mind

intensely struggling in a bind;

ingesting flaws and fears and

inverting truths into tears and

In goes everything that sinks me further and

Out goes everything that should keep me afloat.

And that's just the tip of the viceberg.

100: breaking news

how do you
brake
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?
here's one way
:
letting her
estranged villagefolk
who came to take her home
break
the news
at the schoolgate instead
.
because nobody prepared you to face
her
breaking voice
,
her
breaking down
,
as she tries to remain standing
in spite of her wobbly knees
;
as she struggles afloat though
her vision is drowning in tears
;
bothered breathing
,
sobbing and suffocating
;
and you watch
jaw dropped
hands shaking
mind numbed
because nothing prepared you for this
.
holding this
trembling soul
shaken and stirred
by the twists of fate
of having lost
her sole supporter
?
trying to
unbreak
herself
in her state of mind
of worrying about every single thing
of unpredictable uncertainties
---
then you start to realise
that she is no more prepared
than you are
.
nothing
prepared
me
for this
.
how do i
break
the news
to a child
that their only parent
is gone
?

---

written: 13/4/13
last edited: 3/12/13

99: they say it gets easier

as my hands
already overbr
imming
with half-
baked promises
and swOllen from the burden of
inc_mpl_t_ tasks
are faced with
LifteD
brows;
it gets easier, they say
as they
generously offer
MORE MORE MORE
of everything
without even *batting* an eyelash,
with a heapful of
words of enc(our)agement
like
l e t u s f i l l y o u i n
there's no better way to learn;
it gets easier, they say
but
There seems to be vicious creatures
TERRORIsing them in their homes
which are often called commITments,
but oh
"nothing for you to worry about,
pup
pet,
because commITments only
b
u
g
people who have
something called
LIFE

they say it gets easier,
"don't worry --
later
you can do the same to your juniors."

-
written: april '13

last edited: 021313

98: salty

yes, my affinity
towards an infinity
of salty droplets
is now towering over me,
beckoning to drown me.

the sea of love, after all,
is overflowing with tears.

but barely staying afloat as it is,
and with nowhere to go,
my eyes look up to the skies
as tears stream down my face
out of fear
out of desperation.

irrational, but unsurprising;
no choice but to accept being in a whirlpool of pain and anger
struggling against the current of deceit and confusion
all in the guise of life, normalcy and survival...

and as the raging body
of my tsunami of emotions start to fall;
as i stare at the dark and icy water waiting to engulf me,
i fear for my life
as i clutch my heart.

"where do i go from here?"

97: 4

4.1

 there's just
Something
about walking
back home
at four
in the morn.

 it’s the perfect time of day
for fear, for wonder, and
for everything in between;

 it’s the perfect time of night;
to find myself in my dreams, and
to lose myself in my train of thoughts.

 but i'm afraid.
 i might get lost
in the shadows of the night
in the blackness of my mind

 yet
i must walk on

 and
i close my eyes
and
i open my heart
and
i breathe
it all in.

 it is four.

 Light will come
Darkness will cease.

 i must walk on.


4.2

 there's just
Something
about walking
back home
at four
in the morn,

 accompanied by
His drizzles
pitpattering above my head
and drainwater
rushing beneath my feet
and crickets
chirping its wings, somewhere
and lonefrogs
longing and hoping, everywhere.

 and
i close my eyes
and
i open my heart
and
i breathe
it all in.

 this is
Bliss.

 this,
i will miss.

96: Inhabitation Inhibition

Breathein

Breatheout

Pause

i wish i could understand this.

Pause

Breathein

i wish i could tell you off for distracting my thoughts
simply by existing
so you'd know how annoying it is
to be forced to think of someone for no reason at all and

i wish i could know what would happen if i bugged you
every second, minute, hour, day that i think of you
but i don't want you to think of me
wanting you to think of me thinking about you and

i wish i could sleep this off
because me being so preoccupied by you
must be pretty creepy and you should
already know by now i'm weird and this should be expected and

i wish i could figure out
why i can't stop thinking about you
and good lord this whole overthinking
is getting quite ridiculous so

could you please stop invading my mind and
terrorising my brain cells and neurons and senses and
making me lose my focus while doing the most random things?

Breatheout

maybe if i wrote this down this will make more sense

maybe if i saw it in words it'll be easier to clear my head
maybe if i mouthed out my words the feelings would stop when i do

Breathein

Scribble.

I don't understand this.

I can't understand this.

I can't understand this.

you're not welcome here.

95: heart-headed (under recojstruction)

Head to Heart --
Head to Heart
Do you copy?

Head to Heart,
It appears you have somehow found yourself
stuck on another body in space

Head to heart,
It's new territory, but we've been here before
foreign,
but familiar.

Head to heart,
Experience should remind you to
Be careful of
Risky rapids, ferocious forests
Suffocating sandstorms, among other forces of naturr
Beyond your control
-- Over

Head to heart
Do you copy?
Please respond, over

Head to heart
I repeat, tread with caution
You've done this before
You should know this, over

Head to heart
We we we-- we're los- losing you
Please-- tell us your cor- ore- coordinates
You're slowly going off radar
Turn around,
This is an order!
Over

Heart to head

I can can't can't

I'm st st stuck

I can't can't st steer stee any anym anymo anymore---

--Head to heart! Head to heart!
You you c- can do this!
Please copy!
Pl-- ease c-op

Over

94: Time capsule

she stares back at me,
dismayed,
disappointed.

i fidget.

she calls out to me.

i try to ignore
i try to block her out -- 

Look at me.

i stay silent

Look at me while I'm fucking talking to you.

i stop.

Turn. Around. Now.

i look away

No, you may not look elsewhere -- look at me. 

i start to stand.

No, you may not leave -- sit down.

i open my mouth

No, you may not reply -- be quiet and just listen, dammit.

i stare

For once, listen to yourself.

i shut down.

Just what the hell do you think you're doing 
Putting yourself on display 
With your adoring eyes
And your silly sighs
And your swollen heart 
On your bloodstained sleeves?

i close my eyes

As if you'd learnt 
Absolutely nothing 
From the past

i stop.
"nothing."

Nothing.

the word echoes in my mind
as she tells me again and again and again
like a broken record

All the world is a stage
and people are mere actors
with convoluted intentions 
and they don't always act their parts
the way you hope they would
and they don't always say their lines
the way they probably should

so okay,
i'll listen once again
to the image staring right back at me
one more time.

because
at the end of the day
with or without my reflection
i am
Nothing

93: Down With Love!

She said

he's over one hour late
stuff about her ex
stuff about conflicts between generations
stuff about middle children
stuff about school
stuff about exes bring baggage
stuff about her family
stuff about why she's afraid of the dark
stuff to not make her look like an idiot

(to no avail)

Naked doesn't even begin to explain
how she felt -- but
She should've known better
For having always been transparent --
She should've known better
For they say people living in glass houses
should mind what they do --

(but alas)

She uses that excuse again --
that she keeps forgetting
to keep being rational
to keep acting professional
to keep doing what's right
to keep avoiding what's wrong
to keep reminding herself

(again and again and again) --

Crushes will most likely
crush her.

92: Down With Love?

He said

We live on different planes of reality
I'm kidnapping you
I'm glad you're shorter than me
You might be surprised by how many exes I have
Here's a toy I bought at RantAi
I don't really like taller women
At least I'm not in debt
Have a look at this
I go everywhere for my girlfriends
I want to be like sustainable man
I don't want to worry about getting married
Pretty girls are usually crazy -- it usually takes 2 months for them to show their craziness

And I listen
And I wonder
and I smile
And I frown
And I nod
quietly

And he

Leans in to suggest what to eat
Taps my arm to tell me something
Takes me to artsy places
Introduces me to his friends
Smokes discreetly
Hands me a gift
Buys me dinner
Doesn't ask why I tested whether his toy would sink or float
Walks odd because of his injury
Invites me to experience art with him

And I blush
And I grin
And I laugh
And I think
And I look
away.

But he

Doesn't care about time
Doesn't consider making a family
Doesn't plan for the future
Is haunted by his past
Is relaxed about his present
Can't do long-term
Can't stop smoking
Can't be alone

Said I was pretty

Why do you do this to me?

And I am probably lonely
And I am possibly bored
And I am slightly agitated
And I am definitely tired
of Love

91: la problématique

'problem is,

i get hooked too easily
and am too slow to let go
i somehow get blown away
and lose sight of the ground
i stand at the very edge
and continue to

Wait -- [ pause > edit > play ]

problem is:

i wish you would
pull me up
hold me down
take me

On -- [ stop > rewind > edit > play ]

the problem is

i need you
out of my head.


27/9/13 @2.11am

90: F = for lying

Attention all Pilots
cruising along the clouds
soaring through the sky:

Flick open your headlights

Reassess your coordinates

Switch off that autopilot

And hold on to the wheel.

And
don't
let
Go.

No matter what they say,
No matter what they do,
No matter what happens --

Their wonderful twists and turns
will never be enough.

Your sweet flight of fantasy
will not last forever.

So take off the sleep blinding your eyes,

And take off the smiles binding their lies,

and
land

Safe

and

Sound.

Attention all Pilots,
cruising along the clouds
soaring through the sky:

Flick open your headlights.

Switch off that autopilot.

Hold on to the wheel.

No matter what they say,
No matter what they do,
No matter what happens --
Don't.
Let.
Go.

Your sweet flight
Of fantasy
Will not last forever.

Your wonderful twists
And turns
Will never be enough.

You will eventually have to
Steer yourself back into Reality

(You will eventually have to
Come back down to Earth)

Take off the sleep
blinding your eyes.
Take off the smiles
binding those lies;

And
land

Safe

and

Sound.

89: curses

the papers
will not mark themselves

so
in between
black coffee fixes
and coughing spells
and trance-like eyes
at an ungodly hour

in between
scolding myself
in the office,
it's nice when
someone is willing to talk
about
something
everything
and nothing.

even when there's someone.
especially when there's no one.

but alas,

the papers
will not mark themselves.

88: hazy

The problem is
Him;

I can almost imagine
His face breaking into a cheeky grin
And letting out a hearty laugh
As he talks about everything and nothing.
Always playfully serious and seriously playful.

I can almost imagine
Him willingly burn his lungs with toxic gas
And letting out sweet utterances, unmeaned
Interlaced with meaningful words, unsaid.

The problem is
Me;

I am almost sure
He's not The One,
But I am starting to be more intrigued.
I am starting to falter
Though I'm probably just another plaything to him.

I am almost sure
That I should really hold back
Because this haze has clouded
The area around me
As well as my sense of judgment.

87: BittersweeTea

sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea
as i nibble at the gummy bubbles
and the flavored rainbow jellies
-munch
-munch
look outside
-munch
an old woman walks past
-munch
-mun--
her blanket over her arm
---ch
her hair unkempt
-pause
her expression confused
-stare
her clothes disarray
-focus
Homeless?
-assess
Disowned!
-conclude
Disability.
-pause

-munch.

-look down
chatime in my palm
-look out
blanket on her arm
-stop

Gulp.

sweet
is my iced wintermelon tea,
but did it always have
such a bitter aftertaste?

Aug 11 2013

86: Maximum volume on mute

So I laugh a bit too loud.

and i can get a bit clingy
and am too distant at other times
and i like things that don't matter much to others
and anything out of the ordinary
and i get excited about fictional characters
and over people who will never know who I am
and i hate unrealistic expectations
and being told what to do and when to do it,

But

nothing pisses me more
than someone
believing
they can control
what i do.say.think;

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive

So

i've been waiting for you to notice
that you are not talking to a mirror
though you might as well be
since you're trying so intently
to fix your own reflection
in the form of me.

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not that naive.

flawed is the least I could be
but to change me completely
is robbing me of my individuality
and
i'd rather be
chained and
gagged and
shackled and
beg
on my knees
than to apologise for
what i never was,
things i can't possibly be,
for being who i am
not who you want to see --

I am not blind
I am not stupid
I am not fucking naive.

Seriously,
i shouldve known better
than to stop laughing
when you said

I laugh too loud.

---

remembering things and a certain someone who made me angry in the past.

86: Prey

The old priest, perhaps curious after watching me stare at the church walls for so long, finally tapped on my shoulder and asked warmly, "Time to pray?"

 I flashed him a smile as I slipped my hand into my inner breast pocket,

"Yes father, time to prey."

What is the best horror story you can come up with in two sentences?

💜💜💜85: anti-alpha

'why are you always
so angry at the world?'
she asks.
she knows the best i could do to answer
is stutter and falter

but
i wish she could see herself
in this haven cum prison
when her own son
rolls his eyes
and says she's noisy
when all she's telling him to do
is pick up his soiled socks
from the guest room
that he always
messes up.

so i scream
at the top of my lungs
inside my fuming head
'because you can't see
and i can't accept
that we are treated
as less of a person
because
they see themselves as kings
and we're anything but queens'

-- but she doesn't see what i see.

and she allows them
to treat her the way they do
and she refuses to accept
my retaliation; my support
to my amazement
to my horror
to my disgust.

i know he's your own blood,
but

how can you let him do this to you?
how can you do this to yourself?

84: tempo rally

This is the Future:

identified by = #

evaluated by = %

penalised by = $

and forced to face

an infinite input of facts and figures 

and insanity in the form of information overload

of truths and half-truths,

of white lies and whole lies,

with processors

swollen by nothing of importance,

with memories

numbed by nothing of relevance.

here are beings

disinterested

for having existed

in a world so filthy and twisted,

and be judged for crimes they had to inherit

and to right wrongs they did not commit --

This is the Future.

getting closer and closer

as loud as ever

but on mute.

This is the Future,

where the silent screams

are nothing

but

deafening.

83: mesmereyes

i can't help but stare
your clear sky and starless night
eyes; they mesmerise.



---

saw a student from another school
with a blue right eye and a dark brown left eye.
and a few strands of white hair at the front.

like a real-life xmen or sthg.

just awesome.

82: bogus focus.

not too long ago,
i said to a fellow colleague
who had a degree in physics:

"i find it amazing
that we can send texts, e-mails, videos, bank payments, groceries, bouquets of flowers
without some form of land or physical connection --
all this data floating around in the air
being channelled along by waves
that we cannot see,
touch,
or hear...
but they're there,
and they reach where they need to reach, no matter the destination
and they do what they need to do, no matter the outcome.

it's like...

Magic."

and when i said the last word
i could've sworn
that she almost choked on her drink.

she then stifled out a laugh
and looked at me as if i just told her
that i wanted to fork out my eyes.
"that's not magic,
that's Physics!"

i couldn't help it.
i sighed,
"i know there are
scientific explanations and theories and concepts and whathaveyou
but it still doesn't change the fact that
it is amazing
how there's an infinity of invisible information
in insanely long strings of 0s and 1s
flowing above, around, under, through, between us
dutifully trying to achieve its mission
at the click of a button, at a tap of a screen, at a touch of key."

i couldn't help it.
i asked,
"does it not make you wonder,
how there are all these things we cannot see,
yet they do amazing things,
at lightning speed
and with wonderful results?
you need something,
whether it's a definition of a word, or a recipe for some dish you're craving for, or chatting to a long-distance friend, and voila --
you get it.
Magic.
at your fingertips."

she lifted an eyebrow.
"but that's not Magic,
that's Physics!"

and so i tried to 'compromise'
by saying that i meant it as more of a metaphor
(which she couldn't understand)
and then i said that i'll perhaps use the adjective 'magical'
(because that's what i had meant, anyway)
but she just became more confused...


and that's when i knew
it was not a battle worth fighting.


because it was then that i finally understood
that Magic
is not what you see (or don't see)
or what you hear (or don't hear)
or what you understand (or don't understand)

Magic is what's felt;
what we get
when we replace
adult-like rationality and knowledge to make us smart,
with child-like wonder and gratitude to make us happy.


---

not too long ago,
i told a fellow colleague
who had a degree in physics:

"i find it amazing
that we can send texts, e-mails, videos, bank payments, chocolates and bouquets of flowers
without wires 
sometimes by just using our
mobile devices;
all this data floating around in the air
being channelled by waves
that cannot be seen
touched
heard
felt
but they're there,
and it reaches where it needs to reach
and it does what it needs to do.
it's like...
magic."

she almost choked on her drink,
"that's not magic,
that's physics!"

i tried to explain to her
that i understand
about scientific explanations and theories and concepts and whathaveyou
but it still doesn't change the fact that
there is all these invisible information 
around you
in long strings of alternating and combinations of 0s and 1s
flowing along to dutifully achieve its mission
at the click of a button, at a tap of a screen, at a touch of key.

this infinite space of ours
full of all this
does it not make you become full of wonder?
does it not make you become full of awe?
of what humans are capable of dreaming of,
of what humans are capable to achieve?

but her response was simply,
"yes,
but that's not magic,
that's physics!"

and that's when i knew
it was not a battle worth fighting.

because it was then that i finally understood
that magic
is not what you see
or what you hear
or what you understand...

it's what is felt.

81: tertiaritis

read the whole thing?

ha ha --
what's the point?

i already knew what it was gonna say:
"blahblahblah
we regret to inform you that you suck
blahblahblah".

(ok, so perhaps those weren't the EXACT words used
-- but it might as well have been)

because
at the end of the day,
the rest of the words in the letter
written by some indifferent clerk
instructed by some unamused admin
and sent by some automatised machine
really wouldn't matter

because
at the end of the day
i am back to square one.

but it's okay.
because
i'll try again
another time.

80: The real currency?

I was on a plane en route to perform my Umrah last year when I had one of the most profound experiences in my life.

I knew I was supposed to do some last-minute reading on the things I needed to know and do and say when I reached my destination; to prep up for my obligations as a Muslim in one of The holiest sites on earth, but... [*excuse erased*]

Yes, I have read through the small, thick spiralled Umrah guidebook given to me by the week before tourgroup - from cover to cover countless times, in fact - but I feel guilty if I put it down or kept it in my bag.  After much contemplation I decided to wear the string attached to the book around my neck and just let it hang there, resting against my chest, just in case I felt like reading it again later.

I turned to my right talk to Mom, but she had already dozed off. In fact, I was one of the few who wasn't already blissfully in dream land. I wish I could join them, but I couldn't, for some reason.

After checking my watch for the nth time, I began to hear some kids asking the adults around them "Lambat lagi ke?" ("Are we there yet?") like a broken record.

I yawned as my eyes travelled around the cabin, trying to find something or someone to look at, and they finally landed on the entertainment screen at the back of the headrest in front of me. When I saw my reflection in the dark, imageless screen, I subconsciously held onto the umrah guidebook hanging from my neck.

"Maybe just for a while."
... is what I thought to myself.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I switched on the entertainment set. Maybe I just wanted something to do that didn't involve reading while waiting for the stewards and stewardesses to give us our refreshments. That's what I kept telling myself as I was pressing the buttons, hoping to land of something worthwhile.

The music selection wasn't very interesting (I'm not much of a fan of Middle Eastern music), so I browsed through the other things offered. As I scrolled down the movies selection, a guy with a familiar face caught my eye.

The guy was Justin Timberlake, and the movie poster had a white bolded 'IN TIME' written right at the top of the poster. I couldn't help but laugh at how corny the title was.

I mean, seriously.

The movie had already started playing for a few minutes, but I watched it anyway. Out of curiosity, and partly because, well, it's Justin, one of my ultimate celeb crushes as I was growing up.

... and the smile I had plastered on my face disappeared as soon as I started watching the movie.

The story is set in a world where 'time is money'. Literally. Every business transaction uses not bills or notes or even magnetised plastic cards, but time. Time is the mode of currency, no matter where you are in the world.

What does this mean? It means that you pay for anything and everything with the time you have left in your body. The seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, years in your life.

In such a world, those who are rich are those with a long life. They are, in theory, immortal.

Those who are poor are those who have little time left in or for themselves.

Those who are bankrupt are, well, dead.

And all that is well and good and profound and everything, but that's not what the reason why the movie affected me. What affected me throughout the movie was that I couldn't help but think of surah al-Asr.

“By Time! Indeed Man is in Loss.  Except those who have faith and do good works, 

and exhort one another to truth and exhort one another to patience.” (Q.103:1-3)

The surah kept playing again and again and again in my head throughout the movie. It made the story much more intense. It made all the characters' business transactions and conversations and decisions seem questionable. It was frightening.

When the credits started rolling in I realised that my eyes were wet. I kept trying to dry them with the sleeves of my abaya, but they continued to well up again. It just wouldn't stop.

After I took off my headset, I started to contemplate on a lot of things.
In no time, I was drowning in my thoughts, just as my eyes were drowning in my tears.

I thought about my past. My present. My future.

I began to wonder about my career path, about what I had for dinner the last night, about why of all the movies in the world, that was the one I had watched.

I began to think of all those years I wasted idolising a celebrity and memorising his shoe size, favourite pizza topping and his biggest pet peeve. (I'm relieved to say that I've completely forgotten all three -- I have better things to do with my memory).

I began to think of how right before Mom and I left for the airport with this morning, we ended up arguing - godknowswhy, over godknowswhat.

I began to think of what is going to happen to me when the people and things I have around me are no longer there.

What have I been doing all my life? What am I doing right now? What will I do when it all ends?

Justin had always had an 'effect' on me back when I was 13 - his golden curls and cheeky grins always made my heart skip a beat, but now, the only effect he left on me from the movie wasn't his boyish charms.

It was all about the message he was trying to convey, the idea that the story is trying to unfold.

The movie, in a way, carries a truth that many of us tend to forget, or perhaps one that many of us choose to ignore: "We talk of killing time, while time slowly kills us".

79: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

hey.
hey.
don't those unsightly bulges
acne craters
stitched scars
crooked teeth
wiggly arms
fresh wrinkles
and the rest
of the bundle of imperfections
staring right at you
bother you,
even a little?

it was that voice
again.

around
(inside?)
imagined
(real?)
familiar
(unwelcome?)

reminding you
that the only way to be happy
is
to look like someone else.

(because you just HAD to be born
without meeting the requirements
of being the posterchild
of agencies
of plasticity)

seeking continuous modifications
and constant medications
to satisfy our inhibitions
with acts of retaliation
towards our natural condition
because we follow the tradition
of idolising physical beautification
rather than spiritual purification
to appreciate the realisation
that this unfortunate transition
entirely depends on our decision:

to live
being
an imperfect truth,
or
to die
being
a perfect lie.

- Jan 28th '13

78: Adieu Kate

kate said:

"at the end of the day,

all teachers look for are mistakes"

i was about to defend my profession

i was about to defend myself
but then i realised
that in our dualistic system of
black or white
loose or tight
wrong or right
we have lost sight

of kids like kate:

in the middle of the line

in the middle of the graph

in the middle of the spectrum
in the middle of everything

and yet nowhere to be found.

we stuff them into boxes

expecting them to still breathe

and then we wonder

why they choke when we ask them to speak;

we make them give answers

based on prepared marking schemes
they can't think too far

-- can't give more than the examiner wanted;

we want them to be unique

yet shut them down when they are

and sweep under the carpet

their blood, sweat and tears like specks of dust

we tell them to listen listen listen

and then we talk talk talk talk talk
because only adults
can have opinions, right?

and then we complain

that kids like kate
become notorious rebels

or passionless zombies.

so when kate finishes school

i wonder if i can honestly say
"adieu, kate!"
as she faces the world beyond the school gate
because she will come to realise
that school didn't really prepare her for all that
but in some ways, it did
just not exactly like

what we had said.

---

kate said

"at the end of the day

all teachers look for

are mistakes"

i was about to defend my profession

i was about to defend myself

and then i realised

that she was not far from right.

because in our dualistic system of

black or white

loose or tight

wrong or right

we have lost sight

of kids like kate,

those who are

in the middle of the line

in the middle of the graph

in the middle of the spectrum

in the middle of everything

and yet nowhere to be found

and

we stuff them into boxes

expecting them to breathe

and then we wonder

why they choke when we ask them to speak;

we force them to answer

based on the scheme

not what they had discovered

-- hey, it's more than what the examiner wanted.

we want them to manage 

by themselves,

so we sweep under the carpet

their blood, sweat and tears like specks of dust

we give them rules to follow

which we ourselves

don't heed or understand

and then say 'tut tut' when they are confused

we tell them to listen listen listen

and then we talk talk talk talk talk

because only adults

can have opinions, right?

and then we complain

that kids like kate

become notorious

or lifeless beings.

so when kate finishes school

i wonder if i can honestly say

"adieu, kate!"

as she faces the world beyond the school gate

because she will come to realise

that school didn't really prepare her for all that

but in some ways, it did

just not exactly like

what we had said.

---

i was once a kate, and i hope i educate.

---

kate said

"at the end of the day

all teachers look for

are mistakes"

i was about to defend my profession

i was about to defend myself

and then i realised

that she was somewhat right.

because in our dualistic system of

black and white

loose or tight

wrong and right

we have lost sight

of kids like kate

they are those

who are somewhere

in the middle of the line

in the middle of the graph

in the middle of the spectrum

in the middle of nowhere

and

we stuff them into boxes

expecting them to breathe

and then we wonder

why they choke when we ask them to speak;

we force them to answer

according to the scheme

not what they had discovered

because it's more than what the examiner wanted.

we want them to manage 

by themselves,

and we sweep their problems 

under the carpet like silly specks useless dust

we give them rules to follow

which we ourselves

don't heed or understand

and then say 'tut tut' when they are confused

we tell them to listen listen listen

and then we talk talk talk talk talk

because only adults

can have opinions, right?

and then we complain

that kids like kate

become notorious

or zombies.

but

when kate finishes school

i wonder if i can honestly say

"adieu, kate!"

as she faces the world beyond the school gate

because she will come to realise

that school didn't really prepare her for all that

but in some ways, it did

just not exactly according to

what we had said.

---

i was once a kate

and i hope i educate.