You fool,
What a fool.
As well write a song,
Stupid words of young.
With what's been done,
We won't return.
Can't hide resentment,
Can't fake contentment,
The point is broke,
We can't return.
To leave open drawers,
To feast on the rotting,
What more joy can we find,
How else to reconcile?
An unwavering stance,
It holds a trembling lip,
Bid so long to our sandcastle,
Soon it will as it was.
You fool,
What a fool.
Ahh. It's cool down here. Gazing ahead, there's really not much to look at. But it's so serene down here. The wind dances off my forehead, whips my fringe into a mess. But there's no one here to see. Smile.
All in the lonesome. Having my back propped against a hard surface somehow assures me of a support system, somewhere. Millions of thoughts hushed in submission. It's so quiet down here.
There's something about splaying on the floor. Maybe because I used to do it as a child, it serves the way a keepsake does.
I should really get up now.
If it were up to me,
I’d fly away with the wind.
I’d walk the paths that you never could,
I’d find the streams to carry me,
I’d dance with the boys and sway to my tune.
If it were me,
I’d wear a different dress.
I’d paint my face and plaster a grin
And I’d never figure you out.
And because it’s me,
I have a different dress.
I dance with the elements,
I play with the bears.
And because it’s me,
I am no different.
I learn not.
I hear not.
I do not.
But wait.
One thing I can’t help doing when visiting new and foreign places is to compare. From beautiful sprawling landscapes to widely varying ways of life, I’ve always enjoyed a healthy dose of culture shock. Even though a lot of the time not all comparisons are based on equal variables, I can always count on one constant: beautiful skies.
Hong Kong
Melbourne
Sydney
Regardless of where life may take me in the future, at least I know that there's a greater purpose to my existence. And that reminder is there everyday, wrapping humanity in a vast blue canopy that transcends all borders.
You know it's been a bad year when we spent the last 3 months of the year reading about it in past tense.
You know it's been a bad year when TIME Magazine dedicates a
16-page memoir to the passing of the world's greats in 2009 alone.
You know it's been a bad year when our celebratory countdown to New Year's fireworks display lasted no more than 12 minutes.
My 2009 hasn't been the best. I did decide that it would be the year for learning, and learn I did. Lessons are difficult things to digest so, in a way, I did achieve my goals though I hardly planned for it to be such choppy waters. With 2009 in the rearview mirror, 2010 is off to a bleak start.
Bombings/attempted bombings everywhere, Malaysia paves the way for
terrorism, musical divas accept awards
drunk, lunches at desolate, badly decorated cafes cost RM18, I have classes scheduled on my birthday, Malaysians have more things to be
discriminated for, and the much anticipated The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus turned out be a
self-indulgent Terry Gilliam spin that regular people might not appreciate.
At least, for now, with every New Year comes something new to work towards. I dread a time when that too will come to an end; when all a New Year holds is a reminder of a better time.
