|Time as white sound|
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
"But who cares. No big deal. I want more"
And yet you should never sign deals with the devil
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday at the Beach. Yee-hah =]
It was so nice to finally see the sea and the sand again
I couldn't resist- I had to pick shells and build sandcastles
I probably looked like a juvenile tyke doing so, but the trick of picking reasonably good shells are rather simple, actually:
First, you gotta walk towards the path of the tide in the shallow areas. Then, when the tide recedes for about 3 or 4 seconds, you have to be quick at scanning the area for the shells and quickly pick them before the tide comes back and slaps you in the face- a salty facial to possibly screw your face up. Haha
Anyhow, after the whole picking of shells, building of sandcastles and taking of pictures, I was just sitting down and watched the incoming tide invade my castle. Eating and ebbing away.
My invaded sandcastle looked like a melting, ruined ice cream dessert- the kind that would make a little kid whine and cry.
Then again, it also sunk back towards the evenness of the ground like a removal of an obstacle, returning to the serenity of what was originally there. Then I thought how the ebbing tide was similar to time- joys and sadness like the sandcastle would always remain in the figments of our mind, but it would never bestow a permanent physical manifestation for us to gleam or sulk over--
If you run towards someone and gush "Oh look at my glorious sandcastle!!"He would probably say "What sandcastle??"And you turn round realising that it has been consumed by the tide.
Or if you or your friends made a sandcastle that was quite ugly, and didn't have the option of physically destroying it (let's just imagine that all of them had their arms or legs amputated), you'd cover up, and let the tides do the work for you. And then you can start over and make a nicer one next time. But don't forget the one who displayed poor sandcastle-making skills, and ask him or her to buzz off.
Time aims to wash all that away. And when whatever that was there is gone, we start anew. A fresh new surface; a fresh new chapter. And all is at peace.
And we move on, looking forward to build new sandcastles once again.
Friday, May 23, 2008
It's quite apt considering the recent disappointments. But I must remember what others have told me- it is judged based on an ensemble presentation, rather than an individual assessment.
Anyway, I've been praying to God last week to give me signs if I should pursue theatre since I've had a great interest and passion for it. 2 days later, I received an email from Buds youth theatre company that they will be putting up a play for 'Celebrate Drama' in August. It was in my opinion a clear green light from the big guy above. So thank you God for hearing my prayer.
In one of those home videos, I remember a 5 year old Matt coming back from the family zoo outing and proclaiming loudly to the camera 'I'm a famous actor!'
When the Lord closes a door, he opens another.
Many more others in my case (:
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Ah well.. at least it's all over. I'm feeling better too.
All I can say is that God exists in the most nonsensical of ways. But he exists nonetheless. Even in ways you don't want him to exist in.
"Toto, it's the end of the yellow brick road. And I still don't see the city of Oz..."
I wish I could throw a tantrum- how we could do that when we were 6, screaming and thrashing about till we were given what we wanted. But I am not 6. And failure is no stranger to me.
So. Well hello Mister Misery, I've been expecting you...
I pay your for your services with my heart- an injection of distress; a dose of distraught. I do believe that my heart is freshly punctured to your liking- a slash on the side, effectively bludgeoned to perfection.
Oh but not to worry Mister Misery, I assure you my payment is justified! I know fresh blood is not to your fancy, but I promise that it'll eventually coagulate. After all, coagulated blood from a broken spirit goes particularly well as a garnish on sauteed lung, don't you think? Why, you must agree with me!
Maybe you could take my lungs too if you like! Take my breath away! Slit my gullet and extract all the slithery snakes- I heard you're a fan of reptiles.
Forbid the letter S if you'd like. Make me mute to all s-es.
Take my Sun. Take my Sunshine. Take everything deliriously savory in my life. Take it.
I do not associate with anything S. Some of them yes. Not me
And until next time Mister Misery. I'll be waiting.
Now I'm without a heart like the tin man in 'The Wizard of Oz'
Another trip down the yellow brick road perhaps?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Dorothy clutched Toto ever so tightly.
"I wish... I wish...", she muttered with her eyes closed, hoping that the tighter she closed them, the more her humble wish would come true- fluttering by like the buckwheat of her Kansas hometown. She longed for a gust of wind to sweep her back to the safety of her home. For her to fall in a trench- a five metre wide rabbit hole perhaps- swooping precariously down towards the dark abyss and landing on a pregnant stack of feathered pillows, only to awake realising that she had woken up from a dream. A bad dream.
No. She didn't want to seem like an Alice in Wonderland copycat.
No rabbit holes. Instead, she thought about a chihuahua-driven sleigh to drive her home.
No. Christmas isn't till months later, so sleighs wont do.
So she just stood. And kept thinking.
She wished. She dreamed. She still is.
"Well if you wish hard enough, your dreams might just come true", cooed Glenda the good witch, breaking the awkward silence.
All in the magic of your shiny red shoes.
Dorothy opened her eyes.
"Toto!! I see the City of Oz!!!"
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Eating dried cranberries.
I remember being completely grossed out by dried fruits last time when I was a small kid- be it apricots, prunes or raisins. Initially, they looked like giant pieces of coloured nose dirt. And dried apricots do look like ears if you look carefully- an old man's ear.
Oh. If any of you guys have Lit Night photos, please send them to me yeah?
Darn... I ate all of the dried cranberries in the packet.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
A few months ago, I was in Toys R Us and chanced upon a High School Musical magic 8 ball. Wait... let me correct myself- came across, rather than chanced, considering the fact that there's so many bloody HSM merchandise in the first place. Bags, stationery, barbie dolls. I'm sick of it. I've always been so. It's a bad misrepresentation of a typical American High School- ordinary schools aren't swarmed with almost only good looking people.
Morbid utopia if that were so, because without ugliness, one would never appreciate beauty.
So yes, we need ugly people around to make ourselves feel better. Either that, or to make ourselves understand that we're not alone (depending on one's looks, of course).
After all, misery loves company.
So anyway, as I was saying about the HSM magic 8 ball I saw a few months back- I took the ball, thought about what I might ask and finally came up with 'Will we get at least a gold for our SYF' ,and it said yes. A definite cheap thrill if I might say so.
Being at Popular just now, I saw the magic 8 ball once again and decided to give it another go.
Same frivolity of thought.
But a different answer--- "My sources say no"
I paused for a while. First reaction?- uh-oh..
But then my sanity was telling me that it would be a mere farce to believe it. It would be stupid. Very stupid indeed. It's a false oracle. So I just walked away, not thinking about it. Ignoring it. I mean, what else could I have done??
Hold onto the ball and start sobbing uncontrollably because my life would be over?
Imagine the reaction of the parents with their children over there. They would probably tell the kids that I was mentally unsound.
I'd like to imagine the different scenarios of what might happen. Sometimes, I enjoy this feeling of anxious waiting. It keeps the adrenaline pumping. It keeps me alive.
God I sound mental.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
It was a fairly good performance.
I'm in between silent parenthesis. Waiting. Hoping.
Hoping to be filled with liquid gold, like manuka honey. I've had several spoonfuls of those today.
Inside I'm screaming but yet I'm staying calm.
I suppose it's like driving a car at 150km/h on the highway while you're blindfolded- you could soar across the broken bridge and land triumphantly on the other side like those action movies. Or crash straight into a brick wall. And die.
Then again, I don't even know how to drive.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
4 more days and it's showtime.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
The throttle is occasionally too much for me to handle at times in school, which makes me wanna just let go in terms of tutorials and academic work. Surprisingly though, I'm managing rather well.
Miss Moh was right when she was commenting on class dynamics during one of the stuff we had during the LTC last year. She said that tensions would definitely emerge in our J2 year, and she was right. As of now, I've heard of people changing. Things people are unhappy about. They don't say it of course. Nobody wants to see the ugly. We all want to keep things beautiful and cosmetically perfect.
May all cracks be sealed.
Or all hell break loose.
Nah.. hell won't ever break loose... would it?
Mother Nature's being a temperamental bitch once again- it's been so hot the entire week. I'd say she's undergoing through menopause. She's an ageing turd, but I suppose that mankind is formulating her elixir of youth with plans to be environmentally friendly. You know, green energy, using less plastics and what not.
Oh. I got the Handmaid's Tale on DVD last night. On a side note, thanks for the nice yummy surprise after Drama training guys! Anyway, back to the DVD- the film didn't follow the plot of the novel exactly. It was obviously a B-rated type film so you can't expect much. It wasn't painful to watch either, so I suppose a so-so/not bad rating would be deemed fit for the movie.
Yes, and just a general point to you readers of the Local Laundromat:
Fairytale heroism is bullshit.
Looking back while I was growing up in my earlier teenage years (which is not very far away actually. I make it sound as though I'm facing a mid life crisis in my 40's), I sometimes wish that I was different in Catholic High-- Yes, for those of you who don't know/don't, won't, can't believe that I'm from there. Yes. I've had people guessing that I'm from SJI, St. Pat's, ACS. But no. I was who I was and there's no changing in that.
A really random thought, but I think I'd look so much better in the Cat High uniform now.
I occasionally lament that if only I was the 'me' now 3/4 years ago, I would've made more friends in secondary school; made life then even nicer. Why couldn't the Matt now be the Matt that was in secondary school? He would have been liked so much more. But everything happens for a reason. I take that experience from the past as a reference point to see how much I've changed, grown and developed.
Sometimes I wish I could see my old secondary schoolmates to prove to I'm a better person. To show them that I'm no longer the horrible person I was before at times. I want them to know that I'm changed. To feel more understood after all the disharmony and enemies made (Oh Good Lord, looking back I can strangely laugh at all those incidents)
The undesirable (or desirable) past to me is like a really alienated world. Like a world within a looking-glass. It seems so unlike how things are now. I feel like a chameleon having worn the skin of two contrasting profiles in the 2 schools that I've been in these past 5 and a half years. The past is a different world, yet it is our current reality. It's a subset within our world. Present, yet like an echoing reverie; an invisible menagerie that we are unconscious of but never forget.
Now there's some Lit paper 4 application for you. Lol.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
"It's a beautiful May Day"
Still as hot as ever though.