shoes...

chanced and spotted a pair of shoes just the other day. no doubt it was not an uncommon design, but nevertheless, it has been quite awhile since that model has last been seen. a pair of sneakers that was worn at a particular point of time for a specific purpose, white based with a rim of red at the edges, with pristine white fastidiously crisscrossed shoelaces ending in a neat little bow.

a pair that was in sync with another, or hypothetically supposed to.

while those pair of sneakers paced to and fro in front of me, a wave of nostalgia hit, with the recollection of memories coming in a flood with each thudded step. an influx of tides of all bittersweet.

as the pitterpatter of rain gently hit and disintegrated into the harsh concrete pavement, all that was wanted, was for the rain to wash away the ache that was ebbing dully inside, and to forget all that was. wanting for all to stand still, and stop, as the storm blew and softly crept on its way in. not that it was not worth remembering, rather, it was just heartrending to watch the frenzied play of flashbacks going in a whirl for what was not any longer.

a surge of agonizing bittersweet...

that all started from an infinitesimal ripple...

a walk to remember... unforgettable...

a walk to no end... unfathomable...

irreversible...

ouch...

"it's hard to keep waiting for something you know will never happen, but it's even harder to give it all up knowing it's everything you want."

ouch...

the impossibility of thirteen odds...

there was a need to scratch them itchy hands. lucky for me, it was not only me suffering the itchy hands syndrome, so with a phone call, a table of four was set up to have a round of mahjong.

my grandauntie once told me that my luck was not too bad, it had something to do with those zodiac signs sort of thing. as for me, ain’t really a fervent believer of horoscopes and all since not really all that superstitious, nonetheless, there are some things that one cannot help but have to believe. in any case, when me just started learning the game, was lucky that there was quite a streak with what is infamously known as “beginner’s luck”, although seriously, there is only that much “beginner’s luck” one can have. after all, how long can one be a beginner for?

seriously speaking, really honestly been quite the jinxed one. guess that is karma for cursing a little too much for my own good. okay, that is of my own evil doing, a little too late to change that, so the least that can be done at this point would be to keep at not cursing anyone else so as not to prolong my miserable torture of jinxdom.

the result for the night was to be expected, taking into account my lack of skill and technique with the game. in all honesty, was just lucky to not lose my underpants along with the night’s losses. for one, kept feeding the following player all the tiles she wanted throughout the night. it was not something totally deliberate. it was, and still honestly think is, the tiles. whenever they were opened, a good more than half would be that set up for a hand of thirteen odds. this happened consecutively for at least five if not more, easily, rounds. evil? lucky? you tell me.

very sadly, it is statistically close to impossible to get that elusive hand of thirteen odds. my closest in all that many rounds was probably three tiles away from a winning hand, and that happened a good three, if not more, times in the five or more rounds whilst trying to build up that thirteen odds bridge. so close, yet so far. evil? lucky? you tell me. frustrating and infuriating more like it, especially when the tiles that are discarded end up being picked up by the next player down to give winning combinations, with the vast spectrum of small to big winning hands. when money is at stake, one is not a happy camper when it comes to losing, particularly when it is a big win from a full hand.

what should be done in such a situation? well, if the game is still ongoing, one tries to change the tiles. not much luck there, trust you me. so the final decision? one has to cut one’s losses by trying to minimize the loss by not throwing that money winning tile. sounds like a no brainer? unfortunately, hard work it is when the next player is a seasoned player who has an uncanny combination of luck and technique most times, alongside with the ability to calculate tile possibilities. reminds me of that mandarin idiom of using an egg to attack a rock. such an attempt can be, and is, only painfully futile.

nevertheless, the itchy hands still desires to, someday, one day, make the impossibility of thirteen odds, a reality. till then, think there is better prospect in saving my wretched pennies in a piggybank than throwing good money away by trying to fulfill such a wish. dying aspiration it must be, for now that is, till the day the winds blow a stoke of luck my way.

come all ye little ones...

there must be some sort of baby craze going on. either that, or it is just me. the latest trend? baby spotting. it ain’t at all deliberate considering the babies just pop up out of nowhere, everywhere. it is as if they are hidden in every nook and cranny, ready to pop out at you and jolt your senses into a puddle of mushy goo or a glob of revulsion. there are the cute ones you want to just pick up and kidnap home, the fat and ugly that you cannot help but want to hug and weather them from the possible onslaught of stinging insults that comes with the territory of those damning painful growing years, the beautiful ones you cannot help but admire like a little toy display and envy their fortune of possessing blessed genetics, the crying ones whom you want to either carry and rock to silence so as to take away their tears, or slap them into oblivion just to have that little peace and quiet.

was at the annoyingly abhorrent immigration building just the other day to do a little citizenship fix up. the crazy wait was ridiculous as usual, and the sea of people all cramped up in that waiting room does not come down in my book of jokes as funny, maybe that of bad sense of humour perhaps. with nothing better to do, of sorts, this dodo resorted to the old favourite pastime of people watching. it could not get any more entertaining than that. well, at the very least that was better than twiddling my thumbs and singing “why am i waiting” like a broken down radio.

there was this little midget of a grandfather in a faded white striped polo shirt, bermudas hiked up to his waist with pulled up long white socks in brown leather slippers, who was evidently quite the proud gramps despite the lack of fashion sense, taking into account that he was walking the rounds, mind you, at the immigration department as if it was a walk in the park; round and round and round. liken to watching a gorgeous hot chick walking down the street, the heads were turning, and the eyes staring like no tomorrow. and there he was, the gramps full of pride, beaming away as if he struck dirt gold. in all honesty, it probably was so in view that the little bundle in his arms was more than just the apple of his eye, but the most precious treasure in the world, and was worth more than gold or anything he owned.

that is what they are, for all the ups and downs they bring in all they do and say, or rather, babble. those precocious little ones who send all parents, grown adults with logical minds and developed brains, into a frenzied whirl. the beginning of the next cycle of life, with destinies of all sorts, in all directions, and yet all borne with a similar ideal, of that to carry on the family’s legacy, in one way or another, whether or not they love or hate it.

there are many in this world who do not measure one by one’s achievements, or qualifications, or material possessions, but by the offspring one has, strange as that may sound. a child is, without a doubt, the parents’ biggest cause of pride and joy; unfortunately, with that, also comes the inevitable largest cause of shame and pain that tags in covert silence behind.

ever wondered if you are your parents’ pride and joy, or shame and pain?

it does make one speculate if it is worth all that trouble and pain to bring a child into this world. after all, the menacing nuisances are highly frustrating and definitely life depleting; not to mention that the ache and agony of the heart is one not to be taken lightly and messed around with. yet, for all the good, bad, happy and sad, there are still copious numbers being brought into this world.

come all ye little ones, for it would seem that without you, there can be no light. there would be no amusement at the silliest things you do, no smiles when you grin and have this inexplicable light go off in your eyes, no gratification in your pursuit to learn all there is about this appalling place of a world, no contentment in an everyday life, no bliss as one slowly but surely slips away into an aging old whilst watching you grow.

the wheels of the bus...

the wheels of the bus go round and round, and there my feet, somehow, find their way to foreign territory. footsteps were hesitant and halted in any direction, afraid to make a wrong move, for to land up lost was not the prerogative, not that day at the very least. a neverending aching fatigue that was never too far behind, somehow.

in more ways than one, everything just felt so surreal, so alien, yet so strangely familiar; and another possible cause for an excruciatingly painful moment in time to come. standing and being there, yet not quite.

before long, it had become past. before one could blink, breathe in a different air, and take in all the peculiar sights and sounds. before one could even register, let alone remember, where the starting point of that reverie was.

the wheels of the bus go round and round yet again…

only this time, in the direction where it first came from...

firing up the old oven...

firing up the old oven generates an environment of heat, bringing out the toils of perspiration in every small process that would bring about smiles of chocolate delight at the very end. the chocolatey aroma that is churned out whips up sleeping tastebuds to crave that delectably sweet taste of sinfulness.

when the life stresses get a little too much to handle, strange as it might sound, there is something calmly therapeutic in doing routine domestics; stirring the mix consistently, cracking the eggs in, carefully measuring out the correct amounts, putting the full bake tray in, and then the anticipated wait of taking a piping hot tray out with the oven mitts, with smells up your nose, you could suffocate from the sudden overload of buttery chocolate. whilst the whole pan sits to cool, hastened by a turning fan blowing at top speed, the long wait is cut short, leading up to that moment of glee and contentment when the knife slices through effortlessly like cutting a slab of melted butter.

been away from the baking for quite a long while now, and am a little rusty when it comes to moving around the kitchen. the lack of smooth slides into the next step knocked me up a tad, but thankfully the end product was not too bad. could be better nevertheless, the old creaky machine just needs oiling up here and there, and a bit more practice me thinks.

started on the brownies, next up would be cookies, maybe a mini muffin or cupcake here and there if the baking supplies hold out. hopefully this time around, there would be a better progression to the cakes, especially the good old cheesecake, and a molten chocolate lava cake recipe that have been wanting to make an attempt at. the thought alone is mouthwatering. talk about yummy in the tummy. thank god ain't slobbering all over my keyboard, that would be obscenely embarrassing.

the best and most satisfying part after a major bakeout? is when one shares the spoils with all the loved ones around, especially the girlfriends who love their chocolate. then there would be that priceless moment, where they break into orgasmic sighs and colgate smiles after the first bite.

junk in the middle of the night...

my brother decided to be the usual hungry monkey who needs his midnight dose of nutrition, or bad nutrition rather. therefore, it somehow became a unanimous decision to order in mickey dees takeout since that would be cheaper than taking the car out to get it in view of the rising oil prices.

thanks to that, junk in the middle of the night has once again become a source of entertaining amusement where the most unexpected weird happenings transpire. for one, it is the cutest sight when you see your daddy being such an eager beaver for mickey dees mcspicy wings that he literally stalks the door, waiting in anticipation for and ready to pounce on the delivery guy that will be the messenger of great joy, bringing his order of mcspicy wings. two, your mommy is craving for an order of french fries piping hot in all its golden glory and keeps telling you to listen out for the doorbell or cellphone should the delivery guy ring up, in spite of the fact she is supposed to be on this alleged diet, that is perpetually delayed, so as to lose weight in order to be healthier. she is even willing to turn down the level of the telly so as not for me not to miss either ring, something that is definitely not considered a normal occurrance by any means.

it is one thing to have the unexpected weird happenings with your friends, it is another to watch it happen with the family. frankly speaking, such moments are nothing short of classic. if only it were possible to have it all taped down...

in all honesty, after all that food, am really having a moment of regret for the sinful indulgence, oops... oh well, already am a big fat ass, as so some say and quote them me am doing, so having it upsized absolutely free ain't no biggie really. double oops...

pun intended.

road trip...

had a short road trip just some time back. it was my virgin coach ride up to the more ethnic malay soils of kuala lumpur. guess it can be said in a roundabout way that it was a little getaway in light of the company that had met up in that brief timespan, especially monica jie since god knows when there would be another opportunity to see her again unless a sponsored or free trip to hongkong does somehow unwittingly drop onto my lap. the rest of the bunch of mei sim and ah guan were just a bunch of laughs as usual, with a new found cute and very huggable butterball addition, lai keng. not too bad a catchup overall with all that came to past in that few days.

managed to get to talking to the photographer for preshoot arrangements and all in this recce trip, and a long interesting conversation it was. nothing short of fascinating. all in all, it just induces a brew of excitement, boiling, brimming full, close to, but not quite yet, spilling over.

on the other hand, there is something at the back of my mind that just bugs me, about what lies ahead that remains to be undone. unfortunately, it ain't quite possible to put a finger to it, and goddamn that ridiculous absence of productivity and brain juice to churn up something logical to elucidate that incomprehensible ambiguity.

road trip? undeniably in more ways than one. wondering where is that missing return ticket...

or perhaps... a preordained lost entity...

i can only love you...

was catching up on a girlfriend's blog and came across something she had encountered with someone she knew.

this was what this particular someone had said:

"even if you have married the girl... you don't own her"

"... so to be a good boyfriend/husband, i must give you your space and let you do what you want.. i must trust you. because I don't own you (nobody does), i can't control you.

i can only love you..."

in all honesty, there could be no wiser and truer words than these when it comes to the matters of the heart, and definitely very applicable to both genders no matter who the partner is. no doubt, such words ain't something all that uncommon and is something that probably comes easily to females without needing too much thought, perhaps because it is, possibly, innate to have such perceptive insight.

the thing that was more, no, make that most impressive, was that it was uttered by someone not of the female species.

sweet? indeed.

that girlfriend said it was one of the sweetest things she had heard that week. in consideration that it was a male who said it, am sure that there would be many who would find it hard to refute that girlfriend's statement.

life film...

fantasy is a luxury…

memories…

an agony...

someone should just cut up and can that reel of film...

in shards and shreds…

past...

a past reminder...

steeped beyond the depths of the bountiful sea...

in a whirlpool of regret throughout eternity...

death...

death...

it is... as it is...

the beginning... and the end...

that priceless cuppa...

the wee hours of a dying night and breaking morning...

comical amusement at its best...

inconceivably alongside that priceless cuppa...

greed...

woke to one heck of a killer migraine once again on that statehood day of 25th june. totally forgot about it though my housemommy had reminded me that it would be a local public holiday that day. what was forgotten, was also how the locals take holidays very seriously.

struggled to get out of the apartment that day to go to the supermarket to get a few things and thought to drop by the pharmacy to get some painkillers for the head, stupidly thinking that supermarkets and shops would still be in operation as per normal. bad assumption. landed up walking around looking for an open tobacco store and went to the street behind my apartment since there were more such shops there. big mistake.

although there were several people hanging out in the cafes and eateries on that street, it was not exactly the best of streets to be, at least, not for that day, because got mugged, sort of, on that damn street, not once, but twice, in a day, and consecutively in mere minutes, from one to the next. first was by a group of teenage guys, and then by some old dirty looking beggar like man a little later. can anyone get anymore jinxed than that seriously?!?

the one time when you say you do not understand the local language and only speak english, hoping then to just quickly walk off and pretend to not have heard nor seen them, they open their mouths to make their request in perfectly good english. mind you, the large majority of locals normally struggle with communication since my linguistics ain't top notch and they do not normally grasp, let alone bother with the universal language.

in any case, being stopped by the first group was probably the more intimidating in comparison to the latter since it was a whole bunch of testosterone raging teenagers since was more worried that they would run off with my wallet in the midst of my fishing out the amount they wanted and leaving me dead broke since there was rent and expenses to be paid, of which had just withdrawn the money to do just that; or probably hauling me someplace to smack me up left right centre for not giving them the money, or in the worst case scenario, the unimaginable taboo. a local girl on her cell just walked on by as if nothing was happening. brilliant.

quickly walked off after handing the money over as did not fancy being pulled into some street corner. relief was, however, sadly shortlived. well, was a tad luckier with the second despite being stopped in my footsteps once again. fortunately managed to walk away from it without handing a cent and without the person trying to be funny this time around. seriously speaking, think my lifespan shortened by a decade in those few minutes that was spent walking that street, and frankly, it ain't at all surprising that was the target of attention for the day since was the oddball out there with a different skin tone.

all in all, ended up getting nothing, and yet was still monetarily poorer, with a worse migraine to boot from the end of that crappy walk; and all in broad daylight. in spite of it all, was just glad to be back in my haven in one piece. after all, it really could have been a great deal worse.

amazing what greed can do. it has the ability to expand a person's capability. if anything, it only reminds me all the more not to underestimate the power of greed. people who normally make it a point to not know english, or do not bother to speak a word of english, can miraculously string up full sentences, perfect in grammar and vocabulary, to make their point.

the news that night was pretty wild in view that it was the national statehood day. people were celebrating with fireworks, torching up bins and all. did manage to catch a little of the fireworks going on myself from the balcony. it had been abit of an unforgettable wild day after all.

feeling...

the only feeling of real loss...

is when you love someone...

more than you love yourself...

fireworks...

watching what little of the fireworks that could be seen in the hidden crevices by the balcony in those couple of nights makes me reminisce a silent enjoyment of a beautiful night of sparkle and splendour on independence day back home...

missing home...

happy independence day...

danger all abound...

the soccer mania and patriotism is, somewhat, finally over with the loss in the semifinals. my eardrums are saved, thank goodness, and the streets have somehow resumed its routine activities. the loss that night was a deafening quiet. think the locals took quite a blow to their spirits when the win did not happen. no offence to them, but truth be told, not that me really cared seriously. in any case, the national soccer team was given the heroes' welcome, though it is a little hard for me understand why there is even a necessity for that.

it has taken quite awhile for things to get back to some semblance of normalcy with how everything has been going on. perhaps there is just that tinge of an aftermath of post traumatic stress to an extent. it has been, well, to put it in a simple word, rough. after all, it is not everyday that you see police stationed everywhere with riot trucks in position, on the very streets that you take to walk to school, on the news.

with danger all abound, little wonder why this dodo has taken to living like a hermit crab. better to be safe than sorry indeed. it is all a little too real for comfort. other times, you actually come to wonder if it is even real.

the surprising thing of it all, is that there is not really any trace of fear per se with how safety has become an actual issue, but rather, just a strange inexplicable wave of fatigue. as a result, have been a tad more ill than usual and it ain't hard to trip over my own two feet just getting up from sleep, or a sitting position for the matter.

my good buddy bronchitis has come back for a visit, and sleep has decided to be elusive and an awful pain once again, so guess that means to say the wonderful insomnia is back to stay too. in all honesty, do not really mind that all that much really since there are times where my thoughts run along the line of sleep is actually redundant.

the "adventure" and happenings in the last couple of months are probably enough to last and fill up the missing action bits for the two years that have been here. frankly, these are not events that need a repeat reoccurance.

guess that is just the price of independence.

sticks and stones...

sticks and stones may break my bones...

but words will never hurt me...

absolutely untrue...

a dream...

"when a dream takes hold of you...

what can you do???

you can run with it...

let it run your life...

or let it go and think for the rest of your life about what might have been..."