I am not going to start off the normal way of reflecting on what has happened in 2013. It is about two hours away from New Year and I am in my room, on my bed, working on my SOW (Scheme of work) while my phone receives msgs from my diva friend and two guys from Melbourne and my colleagues. My family is in the hall watching a movie and my brother came into my room asking me twice why I am not out celebrating New Year.
Why am I not celebrating New Year like everyone else I know? Has work taken up so much of my time?
Yes and No. I know I have work to do. But I want to do work. Work that allows myself to be truly absorbed. I am typing my Lit SOW. I am copying what I have already done in my notebook. I have sketched out the year's plan. But to me, it is not mere copy and paste. As I type in the SOW, I am modifying it. You know like when you do pottery (which I did learn while teaching at Teck WHye Sec). It is not as simple as it looks. When doing pottery, you hand molds the clay while the leg steps on the machine. Sometimes you don't know what you are going to make but the machine just goes on and you sculpt the art work. It is not knowing what you are doing but just working on it. You are just improvising on it, making it more define and refine. Yet, you have no idea how it will look. The process is very exciting. I know most teachers may think I am mad, maybe I am. But sometimes in life, it is how we do something that makes us think about answers that we are looking for.
Yes, I am looking for something now in my life. I don't know what it is. But I know I am missing something. I don't want to put a finger on it cause I enjoy the process. Hang on, I don't even know what the process is. But I am going through the process.
What am I talking about? I don't know. I am still in the process!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Lies
Lies and lies and nothing but lies.
We have been taught not to lie because it is bad. It will come back to haunt you. Then there are white lies. Lies you suddenly are told that are perfectly fine because they protect people from getting hurt. But we all know that there is only a small boundarie that define why we lie and why we think we lie.
The intention is never an easy one. I have lied but today these lies are in question. Where do I go with a white lie and how long can I lie? I was told that I am a complicated person. I agree and I see no point in being less than that. I lied. I lied about my own feelings to myself. I lied to someone about my feelings when I don't feel. I lied about my own search for myself. I lied and I am stuck.
I lie that I am in love. I lie that I want to travel because of work and romance when what I really want to do is to travel in search of myself. I lie about things even though it irritates me. I lie as if I understand someone when I don't really understand what he is talking about. I lie because I want to be free. I lie to get away from myself. I lie because I have a choice and I choose a complicated one.
Getting to know someone is usually the easiest part. But when life experiences teach you lessons you never wanted to learn, trust becomes an issue. Hurt becomes your companion. You can for example try explaining to a person what you are going through but he will never fully understand the complexity of your mind. I lie to try to be simple because that is the only way in which you can work with others. Someone told me once that I have to learn to be simple. What he is asking me to do is basically to lie to myself. How do I tell someone that I loathe the concept of simplifying my own life because it just takes the essence of 'me' out of me?
I sometimes wish I can say what I want to say to the person I want to say. But sometimes words are the easiest tool to break a beautiful relationship.
Lies, Lies, Lies
We have been taught not to lie because it is bad. It will come back to haunt you. Then there are white lies. Lies you suddenly are told that are perfectly fine because they protect people from getting hurt. But we all know that there is only a small boundarie that define why we lie and why we think we lie.
The intention is never an easy one. I have lied but today these lies are in question. Where do I go with a white lie and how long can I lie? I was told that I am a complicated person. I agree and I see no point in being less than that. I lied. I lied about my own feelings to myself. I lied to someone about my feelings when I don't feel. I lied about my own search for myself. I lied and I am stuck.
I lie that I am in love. I lie that I want to travel because of work and romance when what I really want to do is to travel in search of myself. I lie about things even though it irritates me. I lie as if I understand someone when I don't really understand what he is talking about. I lie because I want to be free. I lie to get away from myself. I lie because I have a choice and I choose a complicated one.
Getting to know someone is usually the easiest part. But when life experiences teach you lessons you never wanted to learn, trust becomes an issue. Hurt becomes your companion. You can for example try explaining to a person what you are going through but he will never fully understand the complexity of your mind. I lie to try to be simple because that is the only way in which you can work with others. Someone told me once that I have to learn to be simple. What he is asking me to do is basically to lie to myself. How do I tell someone that I loathe the concept of simplifying my own life because it just takes the essence of 'me' out of me?
I sometimes wish I can say what I want to say to the person I want to say. But sometimes words are the easiest tool to break a beautiful relationship.
Lies, Lies, Lies
Friday, August 9, 2013
My haunting
Have you ever watched documentaries of haunting before? Well, I remember watching Celebrity horror stories in Bio channel a year back. There was once particular story that haunted me. It was the story of the actress who acted in the movie Amityville Horror. She shared a story of how the director made the exact replica of the house for the movie and somewhat the actors and actress felt that they were living the horror story in their daily lives as they shot it in the replica. Well, that kinda sparked off an idea for me. What if my room was a replica of what I am inside of my mind? So, I thought hard and figured that the first thing that I am inside is mad. Not to mention, my whole life seem to be that way.
I do have a confession to make. I took a break from the madness when work started to get hectic and I was too involved to note the madness in my own life. Madness in work is nothing unusual for me but when it over takes your individual life, you are in for a big surprise. Your life becomes a twilight zone. Irrationality takes over and you start reminding yourself to pay attention to the abnormal things in one's life.
For example, I have spent quite a fair bit of my life studying dream interpretation and symbolism behind it. An avid fan of Jung, I have read most of his papers and even studied sleep patterns. Having done all this, I came to understand that dreams are a way of reminding us of things we failed to see or have not given the attention it needs. Lately, I have been too tired to dream and sleep right through. Had not given myself the chance to dream and reflect. Now, here is the scary bit, when you don't pay attention, the Universe has a way of showing you things and lately, it has been doing that. There were instances where I converse with people and I have this strange feeling that I am not conversing with the person per sa. Or, I would meet someone who says something out of the context which becomes a nugget of wisdom for me. When this becomes part of my reality, I really stop to think. I can't go on like this. If the Universe has something important to tell me then, I should take some time to think about it.
I am making a conscious effort now to take sometime to reflect. That includes blogging and penning down my thoughts in a dairy. One way to remind myself is to make what is inside visible outside. Perhaps one day I may just haunt my own room!!!
Monday, June 24, 2013
My Broken China Doll
The first thing that I thought when I got the phone call was, "Was it the stress that caused it all? Was I the reason for it?" For an instance I could not make out what the mother was trying to say. I was clearly and above all stunned. How could this be happening to one of the promising student? The cheerful bubbly one in class who used to write her feelings in a journal to me?
Perhaps I was mistaken. I wrote down her ward number and together with my BOSSES went to pay her a visit this afternoon. Throughout the car ride, my boss was asking me if there were any signs of stroke that she had experienced before the incident. I thought hard, recalling the incidents I have chided the class for performing not up to their potential. I wondered if any of my words had erupted the blood clot in her brains. After a while I was not even paying attention to the conversation and my mind was away visualizing what she would look like now.
Upon arrival at the children's ward, I saw her. Like the Great OZ I was and like the fragile porcelain doll she was, broken, Tubes all over. Reminded me of my dying grandmother. Her mother recognized me and filled me with the details of the incident. It was a rare case for a teenager to get stroke and she was one of the rarest accommodate. The sting had began in my eyes.
Another way, hit me when her mother said, " She cries a lot because her throat hurts because of the thing they have inserted in her thorax and she whines because of the tubes in her nose." She lay semi motionless, paralyzed in her left, managing a small wave in her right, acknowledging our presence. "When I did not show her a mirror, she asked if her face was that ugly" continued her mother. To me she was the same doll I know. Only her self esteem had become her iron mask.
I had no idea how to react. I did not know what to say when everyone was comforting her.Then in the MRI scan room I said, "Hey, I can't believe it, that room looks like the ones you enter in Star Wars you never know you may just meet Obi Canobi and Yoda." At that moment, a short stout nurse wearing green walked out. She smiled.
It was warm. I guess the saying is true, humor helps to mend a broken self.
Perhaps I was mistaken. I wrote down her ward number and together with my BOSSES went to pay her a visit this afternoon. Throughout the car ride, my boss was asking me if there were any signs of stroke that she had experienced before the incident. I thought hard, recalling the incidents I have chided the class for performing not up to their potential. I wondered if any of my words had erupted the blood clot in her brains. After a while I was not even paying attention to the conversation and my mind was away visualizing what she would look like now.
Upon arrival at the children's ward, I saw her. Like the Great OZ I was and like the fragile porcelain doll she was, broken, Tubes all over. Reminded me of my dying grandmother. Her mother recognized me and filled me with the details of the incident. It was a rare case for a teenager to get stroke and she was one of the rarest accommodate. The sting had began in my eyes.
Another way, hit me when her mother said, " She cries a lot because her throat hurts because of the thing they have inserted in her thorax and she whines because of the tubes in her nose." She lay semi motionless, paralyzed in her left, managing a small wave in her right, acknowledging our presence. "When I did not show her a mirror, she asked if her face was that ugly" continued her mother. To me she was the same doll I know. Only her self esteem had become her iron mask.
I had no idea how to react. I did not know what to say when everyone was comforting her.Then in the MRI scan room I said, "Hey, I can't believe it, that room looks like the ones you enter in Star Wars you never know you may just meet Obi Canobi and Yoda." At that moment, a short stout nurse wearing green walked out. She smiled.
It was warm. I guess the saying is true, humor helps to mend a broken self.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Tale of Two Cities (Part XIV)
The heat was getting the better of everyone in the kingdom. Summer was taking an early vacation and it was driving everyone mad including Aaratrika.
" Aaratrika if you fidge any longer I am going to slice off your hair" cried the new Chief in Command.
"You can try. It is already short enough. Any shorter you can call me a lad", laughed out Aaratrika. She was hot and sweaty under the armour and Beatty was not making it any easier. He was not giving Aaratrika any rest this time round. She has been taking things easy, though he had to admit that the poor girl has been training hard for four months and totally need a rest both physically and emotionally.
He stared at her. Jenny would have been her age now and a very beautiful girl just like Aaratrika. He whinced. It was a heartache to remember that night. That faithful night she was ripped away from his hands and murdered right in front of him. His only child too. He never rested and fought hunting down the tribe that did that to his daughter. He was blood thirsty and that had lead him to meet Aaratrika in the most bizarre nights.
Aaratrika stopped to take in a breather. She was more than exhausted. She would die a happy woman if given a chance. She wiped her perspiration and glanced at Beatty. He was standing there in state of wonder. She had caught him in that stage many a times and often wonder what was running through his mind. She looked at him closer. He was old but a good looking man for his age and experience. Never a day had he given an excuse or refuse to perform his duty as a Chief in Command. Not even in the most weirdest circumstances. She remembered it clearly. It was a day she lost part of who she was.
Beatty could never understand why strange things happen to him whenever he was with Aaratrika. His life had never been the same and he had learnt to accept the bizarreness of the situation. Six months ago he was a normal soldier, now, he was a Chief who had to deal with mortals and most of the times what seem like immortals.
Aartarika remembered the night it all happened. It seemed like yesterday she kissed Mugal and left him to head to the castle. But before she could reach her destination safely, she heard the ferocious sounds of horses. She was stunned. She rushed to the stables to grab her horse and as the alarm sounded headed out of the castle perimeters. It was not long when her trusted soldiers joined her. This was battle and she knew it. But what she did not know was what was waiting for her.
It was a sight she never knew. The storm was brewing but in an unexplainable manner. A chill ran over her. She had never experienced something like this before, but she knew something bad was lingering in the air. Ahead of her she could see another tribe. The colours of the flags were undeniably familiar.
"Damn that Gordon! That bastard had decided to backstab me after all" she hissed over the thunderous echo of the night. She rode hard. Then suddenly out of the blue moon she saw something else moving besides Gordon. It was a dark hooded figure on a black horse. She suddenly felt a huge pain in her head. "What on earth was that?" For some weird reason she felt that the thing was not mortal. There was something supernatural about it. Gordon stood still but the hooded figure started moving and it was the only thing moving. None of the soldiers were moving. She turned to call out to her men. But they seem eyons apart. It was no use, she had to fight first. The figure appeared. It was masked and yet it seemed dead. Aartarika galloped forward, gripping her sword in her hands. It was heavy and it had started drizzling. The hooded figure approached her and it had its sword fully raised. The next thing she knew she was on the ground. He or It was ruthless. Aartarika tried her best to defend herself. She was about to give up when Beatty arrived and rescued her. Only later did she find out that he was hunting down his daughter's enemy that he happened to run into the field where she was to be minced meat. Even he agreed that the hooded figure was not mere mortal. But Beatty fought like a valiant soldier and with a little magic help from Aatarika (though she had no idea what she did), the hooded figure was injured and retreated. They never saw Gordon or the hooded figure again. Aatarika made Beatty her new Chief in Commander because he saved her life and begged him to teach her all that he knew. Ever since that faithful night, he had been with her for six months.
"Okay lass. Let's call it a day" he murmured. "This heat is getting on the way. Besides you should be getting some rest, don't want you to faint when I torture you tomorrow." he laughed.
"Okay Beatty, your wish, though I have to say it is not the heat but age catching up with you and not me" she yelled and whisked herself away before Beatty had a chance to rebutt.
He watched her run into the castle. "That girl's got spunk. If only we could get someone to look after her.... someone who is calm and composed and will protect her with his life...."
" Aaratrika if you fidge any longer I am going to slice off your hair" cried the new Chief in Command.
"You can try. It is already short enough. Any shorter you can call me a lad", laughed out Aaratrika. She was hot and sweaty under the armour and Beatty was not making it any easier. He was not giving Aaratrika any rest this time round. She has been taking things easy, though he had to admit that the poor girl has been training hard for four months and totally need a rest both physically and emotionally.
He stared at her. Jenny would have been her age now and a very beautiful girl just like Aaratrika. He whinced. It was a heartache to remember that night. That faithful night she was ripped away from his hands and murdered right in front of him. His only child too. He never rested and fought hunting down the tribe that did that to his daughter. He was blood thirsty and that had lead him to meet Aaratrika in the most bizarre nights.
Aaratrika stopped to take in a breather. She was more than exhausted. She would die a happy woman if given a chance. She wiped her perspiration and glanced at Beatty. He was standing there in state of wonder. She had caught him in that stage many a times and often wonder what was running through his mind. She looked at him closer. He was old but a good looking man for his age and experience. Never a day had he given an excuse or refuse to perform his duty as a Chief in Command. Not even in the most weirdest circumstances. She remembered it clearly. It was a day she lost part of who she was.
Beatty could never understand why strange things happen to him whenever he was with Aaratrika. His life had never been the same and he had learnt to accept the bizarreness of the situation. Six months ago he was a normal soldier, now, he was a Chief who had to deal with mortals and most of the times what seem like immortals.
Aartarika remembered the night it all happened. It seemed like yesterday she kissed Mugal and left him to head to the castle. But before she could reach her destination safely, she heard the ferocious sounds of horses. She was stunned. She rushed to the stables to grab her horse and as the alarm sounded headed out of the castle perimeters. It was not long when her trusted soldiers joined her. This was battle and she knew it. But what she did not know was what was waiting for her.
It was a sight she never knew. The storm was brewing but in an unexplainable manner. A chill ran over her. She had never experienced something like this before, but she knew something bad was lingering in the air. Ahead of her she could see another tribe. The colours of the flags were undeniably familiar.
"Damn that Gordon! That bastard had decided to backstab me after all" she hissed over the thunderous echo of the night. She rode hard. Then suddenly out of the blue moon she saw something else moving besides Gordon. It was a dark hooded figure on a black horse. She suddenly felt a huge pain in her head. "What on earth was that?" For some weird reason she felt that the thing was not mortal. There was something supernatural about it. Gordon stood still but the hooded figure started moving and it was the only thing moving. None of the soldiers were moving. She turned to call out to her men. But they seem eyons apart. It was no use, she had to fight first. The figure appeared. It was masked and yet it seemed dead. Aartarika galloped forward, gripping her sword in her hands. It was heavy and it had started drizzling. The hooded figure approached her and it had its sword fully raised. The next thing she knew she was on the ground. He or It was ruthless. Aartarika tried her best to defend herself. She was about to give up when Beatty arrived and rescued her. Only later did she find out that he was hunting down his daughter's enemy that he happened to run into the field where she was to be minced meat. Even he agreed that the hooded figure was not mere mortal. But Beatty fought like a valiant soldier and with a little magic help from Aatarika (though she had no idea what she did), the hooded figure was injured and retreated. They never saw Gordon or the hooded figure again. Aatarika made Beatty her new Chief in Commander because he saved her life and begged him to teach her all that he knew. Ever since that faithful night, he had been with her for six months.
"Okay lass. Let's call it a day" he murmured. "This heat is getting on the way. Besides you should be getting some rest, don't want you to faint when I torture you tomorrow." he laughed.
"Okay Beatty, your wish, though I have to say it is not the heat but age catching up with you and not me" she yelled and whisked herself away before Beatty had a chance to rebutt.
He watched her run into the castle. "That girl's got spunk. If only we could get someone to look after her.... someone who is calm and composed and will protect her with his life...."
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
I wonder what I actually attract
Once my friend told me this, " Ling, be careful what you wish for"
Do I have ever listen? Of course not!
When I was younger, it did not matter but now in my late twenties, it somewhat seems like a warning I should have heed. I have always had the neck (and aura) to influence and attract people especially, the rather unique ones. This has made my life exciting, just like Indiana Jones or Sherlock Holmes. Except unlike them, I don't deal with journeys but more with interesting characters in my life.
Take for instance, I am three months into the new year and I am already emotionally exhausted. And I honestly don't mean to be sexist, but it is the male gender who is at the driver's wheel. Be it adults or teenagers they never seem to drain me out. From class room ethics to sharing their personal stories to getting my attention, the list never ends.
What I find rather interesting in my case, is that I do attract attention from males who have high intellect. For instance, I have male friends who seem to be stimulated in the brain department (no need to explain the other 'head' department). It is nice to bicker at a certain level but to be honest, after a while I am just so tired. I am just not entertained anymore. The worst part is that they don't realise that what they say is so different from how they behave. And going through that aspect to make them conscious about their own feelings is another issue altogether. And they tell me that woman are so hard to understand and are complex. I personally think that both genders are complex except the complexity varies based on how their brains function.
I am now conscious when I make wishes but I am afraid it is too late.
Do I have ever listen? Of course not!
When I was younger, it did not matter but now in my late twenties, it somewhat seems like a warning I should have heed. I have always had the neck (and aura) to influence and attract people especially, the rather unique ones. This has made my life exciting, just like Indiana Jones or Sherlock Holmes. Except unlike them, I don't deal with journeys but more with interesting characters in my life.
Take for instance, I am three months into the new year and I am already emotionally exhausted. And I honestly don't mean to be sexist, but it is the male gender who is at the driver's wheel. Be it adults or teenagers they never seem to drain me out. From class room ethics to sharing their personal stories to getting my attention, the list never ends.
What I find rather interesting in my case, is that I do attract attention from males who have high intellect. For instance, I have male friends who seem to be stimulated in the brain department (no need to explain the other 'head' department). It is nice to bicker at a certain level but to be honest, after a while I am just so tired. I am just not entertained anymore. The worst part is that they don't realise that what they say is so different from how they behave. And going through that aspect to make them conscious about their own feelings is another issue altogether. And they tell me that woman are so hard to understand and are complex. I personally think that both genders are complex except the complexity varies based on how their brains function.
I am now conscious when I make wishes but I am afraid it is too late.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Waiting for death
"It is so easy to wish for death when nothing is wrong with you!" - The Violin- Anne Rice.
Well that is so true right now. Yes, I have been planning to die for the past two weeks. The idea of death has been an interesting notion in my life. I entertain the thought. Why death you ask? Why not?
I am not planning to take my life away, that's just silly. Perhaps an invitation to death seem more appropriate. You know the kind where Death pays you a visit? A beautiful thought. I am still pondering how to send out the invitation to Death. How does one invite Death to visit you? I am not committing a sin by selling my soul or killing myself. That is just stupid. It must be taken away. You must be taken away like an old friend. And I wonder how?
It is annoying to go to work and pretend that everything is okay. It is annoying when your friends invite you out to talk and you really don't feel like seeing anyone. You just want to be left by yourself, in your contemplative thoughts listening to Mozart and Beethoven as you feel their anguish and yet the joys of being alive. The contrary of living.
Here I am contemplating leaving and life has decided that it wants you. I have just been nominated for a youth award and have just published my book chapter. I have been invited to sit in committees and acknowledged for the work I have done. Brilliant! It just comes in the time when I have no desire to live. A bribe from the Heavens to allow me to stay? I never wanted to be born in the first place. What makes them think I want to stay?
People I probably miss. I realised that there are two groups of people I will miss. The ones I have been a burden to (like my family who love me) and those whom I love and don't recognise the fact that I love them (hmm better not mention them because they should never know that I loved them, a pleasure they don't deserve). Oh well, I will get over them and they will too when I leave.
I love blogging because I bet no one reads my blog unless they are really stalking me. Lol! Just kidding, this is not a cry for help. Just my way of being me. Once in a while it is good to be myself and express it. Gothic I may sound but this is a nice way to practice writing and expressing certain ideas. After all I do intend to write and what more to explore it through a persona.
" But I always wished I was dead. It was a way to go on living" - The Violin- Anne Rice.
Well that is so true right now. Yes, I have been planning to die for the past two weeks. The idea of death has been an interesting notion in my life. I entertain the thought. Why death you ask? Why not?
I am not planning to take my life away, that's just silly. Perhaps an invitation to death seem more appropriate. You know the kind where Death pays you a visit? A beautiful thought. I am still pondering how to send out the invitation to Death. How does one invite Death to visit you? I am not committing a sin by selling my soul or killing myself. That is just stupid. It must be taken away. You must be taken away like an old friend. And I wonder how?
It is annoying to go to work and pretend that everything is okay. It is annoying when your friends invite you out to talk and you really don't feel like seeing anyone. You just want to be left by yourself, in your contemplative thoughts listening to Mozart and Beethoven as you feel their anguish and yet the joys of being alive. The contrary of living.
Here I am contemplating leaving and life has decided that it wants you. I have just been nominated for a youth award and have just published my book chapter. I have been invited to sit in committees and acknowledged for the work I have done. Brilliant! It just comes in the time when I have no desire to live. A bribe from the Heavens to allow me to stay? I never wanted to be born in the first place. What makes them think I want to stay?
People I probably miss. I realised that there are two groups of people I will miss. The ones I have been a burden to (like my family who love me) and those whom I love and don't recognise the fact that I love them (hmm better not mention them because they should never know that I loved them, a pleasure they don't deserve). Oh well, I will get over them and they will too when I leave.
I love blogging because I bet no one reads my blog unless they are really stalking me. Lol! Just kidding, this is not a cry for help. Just my way of being me. Once in a while it is good to be myself and express it. Gothic I may sound but this is a nice way to practice writing and expressing certain ideas. After all I do intend to write and what more to explore it through a persona.
" But I always wished I was dead. It was a way to go on living" - The Violin- Anne Rice.
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