There are books which make me desperately want to cry. On Chesil Beach is one of those, and my heart, after five hours in Borders yesterday, is heavy until now. Savour and envy that flawless, perfect love between Edward and Florence. It gets better and better, and it keeps building on your dreams, your hopeful predictions. You know all too well there isn’t such thing as a perfect romance, but maybe this book, like any other, will allow you to escape for a few hours, and dwell on how beautiful, beautiful, beautifully divine life can be, even if it is only real for a while.

No such thing.

It is like an invisible hand snatching my heart right out of its place and grinding it to dust. I cannot believe how hollow, how betrayed, how furious I feel right now.

Yet I really loved the book. Deliciously depressing, like winter, like Eve Green, like Damien Rice. And I think someone else will too. If there’s time.

So okay. My birthday wishlist:

#1 Ian McEwan novels.
#2 Borders book vouchers.

Thanks in advance, everyone. (((:

***

So, my second last time (hopefully) in Singapore before university. (Intensely hoping so)

Where to start?

NUS law interview was a riot, and as it is in any other riot I consider a riot, it’s been told many many times to a variety of people. So I shall spare my imaginary audience 😀 and not repeat myself. It’s boring even to me when I do anyway.

I marvel at how different all my friends are, and how I experience such a range of different, wonderful feelings when I’m out with any of them, at such a range of places to go, talking about such a range of things, from plain silly, to reflective, to downright sad. Oh and embarrassing, of course. Like how I was staring at the sky and Vanvan walked away without me noticing :O At Orchard! Of all places!

So now I have another reason for disliking crowded places and liking quiet places, besides the claustrophobic feeling: Crowded places have more people to bear witness to my foolish acts.

Ha.

Chorale concert was a blast, and ended that way. It’s heartening, really, to watch, and I’m glad I caught some of that energy on video. I wish so much to have all, ALL of that back, and in better form, and longer-lasting. Maybe I do fear regret after all: Sometimes I look back and wince. But Chorale is over for me, for the rest of us who are wishing the same thing, and it is time to move on. All we have is a slowly, very slowly, fading memory of everything, and a good memory at that, so why should I complain? Great things to look forward to as well. Maybe not the same, but life was never meant to be a long dreary stretch of the same things over and over again!

I went back to school as well, a few times in fact: to get forms verified, to look for Bimbs Kelly, to look for Nanett, to have lunch with dear Nikki. One thought occurred to me: If someone were to ask me who that I know has got the biggest smile, the answer would be Nanett (: Back to the subject. I hate change in some places, I really do. I hate going back to school, and feeling like a stranger. Seeing different faces at familiar tables, seeing new, different places in school, seeing no one I know! It would be different if the place was haunted with bad memories of a past self, like maybe secondary school. But this is RJ, and this is where I know I discovered so many, many things about people and myself…it was my school in every sense, but it isn’t anymore. It is a group of green and white buildings I used to know and explore thoroughly on quiet weekends, a block or two of classrooms I used to search feverishly for forgotten, unlocked windows so Alex could climb in and open the door for us, but it isn’t anymore.

I used to walk into LT4 like it belonged to me, to the Altos, to Chorale. Sorry, we’re having prac, we booked the place, get out. Along those lines. It would be empty, the piano would be quiet, I would leave my bag, and go out with someone to get the keyboards, and look forward to every prac, scolding or no scolding. But it’s not the same! The whole place reeks of unfamiliarity, or a strange sort of obligation to creep in and out because I wasn’t supposed to be there, because, if I bumped into anyone, it would never in ten years be someone I knew, because it wasn’t my batch.

It’s funny, the sort of attachment one can feel only after two years. As opposed to say, five. Or six years.

I say one day we should have a class reunion in A72. Break in on a weekend, wear our uniforms, plug in an iPod into the class PA system, and loll around doing nothing except ripping on Kah Han and Han. Break into LT4 with old scores and half-Us, like ghosts from another time past.

And the steps at Esplanade. Oh, the steps. Someone should declare it a tradition! The official venue for Chorale hangouts after any important day.

I hate goodbyes. How about, you had me at hello, so let’s end it at hello. No goodbyes. Maybe abrupt goodbyes are a good thing because they create the illusion that I imagined it, there was no goodbye, there will be merry meetings again. The more draggy, the more heartfelt, the more emotional baggage, so why bother!

I speak like I’m about to die.

But I tell you, it’s On Chesil Beach. It makes me feel like everyone is going to die, it’s that depressing.

Nikki, Avonne, Ruth and I were talking about NUS interviews, and there was the question of What’s Your Greatest Fear?

I said, being alone. If everyone I knew and loved died, and disappeared, and left me alone.

I fear it more than failure, than death. I don’t know what lies beyond death and frankly, I’m not worried. I’m afraid of now. What if everyone died now?

Very logical, I know. I suppose Friedemann’s version makes a whole lot more sense, if you choose to believe in it. Alone in the afterlife.

It’s eternal. It’s realistic, assuming you believe.

But I suppose, if you look at mine in a different way…perhaps it’s not so much of everyone dying at the same time. Maybe less of dying than just simply disappearing, and maybe a more gradual process. I love the people I have with me now, and what it they slowly, inevitably leave me? Migrating, passing, just losing touch, to the point that they no longer exist to me? It’s a scary thought, and talking over drinks with Av Ruth Nikki the day before, and reading On Chesil Beach after…boy that sure adds a whole load to my mind.

So sometimes I can’t help but wonder. Why care? Scratch all that importance of goodbyes, of people, of love, the heart ache they all bring… Why care so much for other people? None of them are permanent.

Some friendships, I liken them to elastic bands. Stretch it, go further apart, but despite all that distance there’s still a bond, a soothing assurance that once you let go and come gravitating back to each other, the other person is always there. Trust.

But really. Realistically. Promises of never ending friendship, I’m sure, but you know what? Elastic bands wear out, they break, and people fly apart, and never find one another again.

I fear it all stops here. All this joy being around people I love so, so much. The end of one chapter, and the start of the another. Of work, of family, of taxes, of more work, to the end of your life and suddenly, in passing, Oh, wasn’t there this girl or guy that I used to be really close to? I don’t even remember her/his name now…

So back to my question. Why be aware? Why not be blissfully ignorant and selfish, and live a happy life to the end.

If you never know, you never feel, right?

But it’s too late, and here I am, on the brink of something great (perhaps), something new, wishing that I could superglue the past to me, the good bits, and bring them to afterlife. If there is one.

Honestly, heaven is such a comforting thought, isn’t it. But too pretty a picture for me to trust in, I’m sorry.

So I’ll be done brooding for a moment, and treat you to happy pictures. That’s all we’ve got, anyway:

***
[In LT4]

Me, in reference to Leona Lewis: Do you think her voice is nice?
Julian: No but I think it’s versatile.
Me: Really?? Leona Lewis’s voice not nice??
Julian: Oh Leona Lewis! I thought you were talking about my voice.

HAHA.

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