ONLINE

We don’t seem to speak much with people on the phone these days. Instead we instinctively tap on messaging apps and text each other.

This is another random musing I wrote, inspired by our second nature behaviour of letting our fingers do the talking.

~~~~~~

ONLINE

Green light’s on

… Every pulse …

Connecting you

And me

I

Sense

Your teasing smile ; )

Laughing eyes ^^

The ebb and flow

Of words

In your mind

As the text races

To and fro

Across the unknown abyss of

Space and time

Leaping~~~

With anticipation

Onto your screen

And mine

>>>

Downloading…

A still

A video

A moment in time

We laugh : D

Decibel scale: !!!

But

I can’t hear you

Can you hear me?

_Idle_

.

.

.

Unembellished silence

Because

The last word anyone needs

is

“Goodbye.”

Strange quote from a cat in the morning

Leave me alone

I need space to think

Why my shadow shrinks then grows tall everyday

But never ages a single day

  

Life’s a blur

Is it the rain? 

Or is it the haze?

Maybe it’s just my hypoxic brain

That’s still in a daze…  

  

 
  
 

Ode to the Study Table

I’m back in school for my full-time graduate studies after a long, long time.

Here’s my ode to the essential furniture in any student’s life.

~~~~~~

Ode to the Study Table

The tabletop is but a stage
For the rotund pen holder
Who wisely takes the form
Of an erudite owl
Brimming over with ideas
To be put to paper
And awaiting the day
When it finally brings change to the world
~
A clear, empty glass
– Is it truly empty, I ask
Perhaps it is already full
A liquid that looks solid to the fool
Alas, the eye is too weary to see
Beyond a skin so crystalline
To realise some things reveal their true forms
Only in the deep recesses of the mind
~
A MacBook clammed shut
From the ennui
Of surveying the digital ocean
At the command of your fingertips
Combing through terabytes
Of gobbledygook
To fetch you the pearl that
You cannot hold
~
Bent double but no trouble
The light will shine forth
From the humble table lamp
When the night falls
And illuminate the scribbles
On the yellow sticky note pad
That records memories you cannot keep
In your overburdened head
~
The mouse sits still and ponders why
The MacBook ignores it, no matter how it pries
The owl’s eyes are open but its mouth stays shut
Even the lamp decides to let darkness preside
It is now time
To turn in for the night
Let the gentle curtains turn away
The visiting moonlight

The Beginning of A Journey

It’s been a while. So much has happened yet so much left unwritten. But in a way, I feel that I am more alive these days than I had been before.

As I strive to live in each and every moment, I am thankful too, for every person and blessing along the way that has brought me to the beginning of another new journey.

This is a story about a new beginning many years ago.

~~~~~~

Some partings are poetic. My favourite sensei gifted me one literally.

Years ago, she ignited my love for the Japanese language when she came to Singapore to teach at the foreign language centre run by our education ministry. I looked forward to every lesson she taught and enjoyed every minute of the time she spent with our class. Sadly, her contract ended two years later, and she had to return to Tokyo with her family.

Before she left, she gave me a book of poems by a Japanese writer Yuri Mitsuhara (光原百合). The title was Michi「道」, which means “The Path”. It was a pocket-sized picture book, or e-hon as the Japanese would call it. Each poem was accompanied by a delicately beautiful hand-drawn illustration of forests, fields, hills or lakes by the award-winning Niigata-born illustrator, Ken Kuroi （黒井健）.

Mitsuhara herself was born in Hiroshima and studied English literature and linguistics in Osaka University. She is well known in Japan for her large volume of works, ranging from Japanese mystery novels and translations of English novels to poetry and e-hon. Michi was published in 1989 and was one of her earliest works.

The book featured 14 short poems and my favourite was the opening piece Tabi no Hajime ni 「旅の初めに」, which means “The Beginning of a Journey”. It aptly summed up the anticipation and trepidation that I, and probably my sensei too, had felt at that time – she had found a new job in Tokyo and I was awaiting the start of my junior college years.

As our paths diverged and took us further and further away on our respective journeys, we lost contact with each other.

Three weeks ago, when I retrieved the book from my bookshelf, it suddenly dawned upon me that perhaps there could be clues to where my sensei was right now. I decided to turn to Google.

Thanks to the proliferation of social media, her profile popped up in one of the search results, much to my delight. With the click of a button, and an email that she wasn’t expecting, we were reunited online.

Amazingly, both of us were about to begin our new adventures once again. I am going back to school for my full-time studies, while my sensei is taking up a new teaching position in Paris. It felt as if everything had gone a full circle.

And here’s the poem. I couldn’t find any English translation, so this is my feeble attempt at translating it.

The Beginning of a Journey

The mountain paths are difficult

So set your sights on the tree in the distance

And take your steps towards it

Look up if you think you have lost your way

Keep your eyes on the tree

And you will arrive there someday

You can reach for a milestone far away

Or aim for a goal, oh so high

When you traverse a path that is long and far

「旅の初めに」

山道はわかりにくいから

遠くに見えるあの木を

目印に行くといい

迷いそうになったら見上げてごらん

あの木をめざしていけば

いつか必ず着けるから

目印は遥かなものがいい

高いものがいい

遠い道を行くときには

Every drop counts

The rain has finally returned to some parts of our little island today, after an unusually long dry spell that started in mid-January this year.

Felt particularly sorry for the grasses and shrubs that are exposed in our tropical sun. The once-verdant field near our home now reminds me of a parched savannah, sans tall grasses and wild cats. In some places, the blades of grass are now so sun-bleached and lifeless that they look almost unreal.

Can’t do much for the flora but decided that I could at least try to conserve more water. Like leaving a plastic basin in the sink to collect the used water when I rinse my utensils or wash my hands, then transferring the water into a pail for other uses.

Never gave the simple act of turning on the faucet much thought before. But this plastic basin has helped me realise how much clean running water goes down the drain each time I turn on the tap. Modern life can be quite wasteful, really.

Takes a drought to remind us of the fragility of life. And to be thankful for what we have, and waste not.

More sketchy projects 2014 – Sunshine

Last Sunday was, well, very sunny indeed.

Peh saw me trying to shield my eyes from the sun’s glare with my hand as we stood side by side at the road junction, waiting for the lights to turn green.

Before I knew it, he was standing right in front of me, looking into my eyes and smiling. And I had all the shade I needed.

Oh, the sweet little things that he does.

More sketchy projects 2014 – Dream of the Red Packet

Spotted this young lady at the neighbourhood lottery shop some days ago.

Clad in a tight t-shirt and a pair of hot pants, she stood out in the crowd of middle-aged “uncles” and “aunties” who were queuing for their turn to place their bets for the Lunar New Year big prize.

February 14th happened to be the 15th day of the Lunar New Year, which marks the end of the festive celebrations. And it coincided with Valentine’s Day.

And for those dreaming of a windfall, the much-awaited Hong Bao Draw results were finally out this night. Someone out there probably had three causes for a celebration.

Could it be this lady?

Paint my days positive

Inspired by my band mate, Ivan Chew’s incredible attempt at making one digital sketch a day in 2013, I started my year by making one of my first digital sketches on a phone app.

My original plan was to paint the colour(s) that best summed up my mood each day of the year. Blue = calm and contented. Red = irate and cantankerous. White = pure joy. Black = awful, quite obviously.

Seemed like I had an idea of the colour to assign to each type of mood. And so on a day full of ups and downs, I could mix hues and shades. That would be visually spectacular, I thought, though it would also mean spending my day on an emotional roller coaster.

Three days later, I aborted the plan. This was what I ended up with.

I wasn’t getting lazy. Keeping up with the plan wasn’t the issue.

What I discovered was that at the end of each day, I was focusing on things than turned my day into a colour other than blue and white as I tried to decide on the palette. Which meant that I was trying to recall the negative parts of my day to complete the sketch – the not-so-nice people, things that went awry, moments that made me go argh and so on.

That was an unpleasant way to end the day.

So I pulled the plug on Day Four.

Nay, I’m not an escapist. I don’t believe in escapism. But I’m pretty sure negativity breeds negativity.

Because every thought or feeling we have is like a seed that can either take root in our hearts and minds, or wither away if starved of the elements to keep it alive. Its fate depends very much on what we feed it.

Problem with bad stuff is that they don’t defy Newton’s Law – they pull us down all the time. So I figured, the only way to face any negativity I face each day is to focus on the other parts – the positive events and feelings, even if I only get to experience them for a fleeting moment.

I’d rather feed my mind and soul with the healthiest thoughts and feelings from the most wonderful, uplifting moments – enjoying some aromatic coffee with in the good company of my co-workers, being greeted with a friendly smile from a neighbour, or feeling warm and touched by the gestures of support from my loved ones.

It’s okay that my plan didn’t quite work out. This might very well be the most positive thing to have happened this year.

More sketchy projects 2014 – “Vanessa”

This sketch has a story behind it.

We were walking past the neighborhood playground last Saturday evening, when we heard the voices of two little girls ringing out loud.

The younger one, aged about three, was sitting at the top of the slide. Her father was keeping an eye on her close by. The older one, who’s about five years old, was standing at the bottom. Imagine the following exchange going on at the top of their bell-like voices.

Younger girl: What’s your name?
Older girl: Vanessa.
Younger girl: (Turned to her father excitedly.) She’s Anissa!
Father: Anissa?
Younger girl: (Turned to face the older girl.) What’s your name?!
Older girl: Vanessa!!
Younger girl: Papa, she’s Ganesha!!
Father: (Stunned.) Ganesha??
Younger girl: (Turning to the older girl again.) What’s your name?!!!
Older girl: VANESSA!!!

At which point, little Vanessa decided that she had had enough of the “what’s your name” game that was getting nowhere. So she darted round the slide toward the rocking horse at the other side of the playground.

Then to our amusement, she hopped onto the rocking horse and started rocking to and fro so forcefully that her thick, long hair started flying in all directions and sweeping across her tiny face.

Looked like little Vanessa has the makings of an angsty headbanging rocker chick. At the tender age of five.