I am back!
So cute. Haha. Vanessa brought this up. So cute!! Calvin is terribly short. I think if the Galpals all transmogrified ourselves into tigers we definitely know which one is Claire and which one is PJ, eh.
HOHO.
I am evil. As if I have any stature to speak of.
Well anyway today is a very good day, and hopefully it will blossom into something more. A wild card turned to an Ace, perhaps. For the record, I repeat myself: TODAY HAS BEEN A GOOD DAY INDEED. And I have someone to thank for it. Someone I’ve never even met, but my thanks goes way beyond the fact that she’s a stranger still.
<3
I’m listening to The Killers’ All These Things that I’ve Done. I love this song. It reminds me of pre-Mr. and Mrs. Tan days when we were still mugging in the classroom, when Nanett still had her braces on and frequently made pointed remarks and Alex and me, when Nanett and I were still almost strangers and I was just starting to make trips to her room to exchange songs or talk or just hang out, around this time of the year.
Around this time of the year. When I was worrying and fretting about the exact same things I am right now. Life and opportunities and lessons. How things have changed and evolved in the past two years. Numbers grow in some places, shrink in other places. People leave from some doors come in from other doors, some to stay or leave again. Feelings scattered here and there, some revisited with a surprise, some yet to form.
Gosh these playlists. Nostalgic indeed.
Keane: Everything’s Changing.
More things to remember. My white phone, me and Alex swapping SD cards. Me playing this song out loud at the round windy table under Block A, in my half-U.
I miss 2006. I miss these times, when I was still shapeshifting in some ways, still wandering, still with half a direction and no place to go.
I miss time. I want it back, I want it back so badly. Give me my best memories now, but don’t take away my future.
In the midst of sashmaking, pouchmaking, typing on mubbles, talking on MSN with Vanessa, home, my desk, my interview suit hanging behind my door, the picture frame from Shiek Ching, the cross stitch from Carol, the paper rose, the church camp tag, everything, overwhelming. Juxtaposition of now and then. Sometimes I wish I weren’t here, but rather, travelling through time, seeing things I only want to see, knowing things I only want to know.
I don’t want to be here. It’s too decided, it’s too still, it’s so dreadfully helpless, just being here, and knowing something big is looming, but you can’t control it, you don’t have a say. I want change, but I’m so afraid of change.
I want to start praying again, but I’m so afraid. So afraid that it’ll be like a bad break-up, like meeting an old flame but not knowing what to say. I found peace, but I’m confused. I was confused and confused still. Maybe it feels nice but it just doesn’t feel right. Like I owe him something. Is he even there? Listening? Reading what I type? Hearing what I say inside? Judging me? Saying, maybe, that after a year of drying, shriveling, I don’t deserve any better?
Too big to handle, eh. Was talking to Fried about that line in Children of Huang Shi though I don’t think I really got through to him. I was not sure what I wanted to say, really.
But thinking of it now. Who knows what’d happen next when you’re happy? Dare I rejoice in something now when I think it’s all going to crash down on me another time, another day, off-guard. Will the sky fall down behind me? How do I know all this will last?
I think the most frustrating and depressing question is always. I am today. But will I still be happy tomorrow?
I think we’re all searching for the same thing in life. Something that lasts. Something that, no matter what, won’t ever disappoint. An eternal happiness, with no fear that it’ll dissipate tomorrow with no warning and leave you among ruins. A glass sphere with me sealed inside, interminable and secure.
Permanence. In love. In joy. In trust.
And God is supposed to give me that? Because he said so?
HOW??
Damien Rice: Cannonball.
Love taught me to lie.
Life taught me to die.
It’s not hard to fall, when you float like a cannonball.
Damien Rice is such a genius. I think musicians like him should just take over the role of psychologists.
Okay maybe not. Suicide rates may go up.
