Timmy Lai

Meet The Chongs

2011-10-05T04:12:00.001+08:00

Sunday - 13th June 2010 - Crystal Jade, Mid Valley.

It was a Sunday evening, and Tania had promised to pick me up from my house before bringing me to Mid Valley to meet her parents. She'd dropped that little surprise on me the week before 'The Day'. Now, I had nothing against meeting her parents, mind you. I was sure they were wonderful people and all that, but if I had my way, I would prefer an informal one. And to top it off, the dinner was on Father's Day.

Bla bla bla...excuses, excuses and excuses! As a Matter-Of-Fact, I was scared out of my pants that day.

I was pretty sure things will turn out well, though I kept my fingers crossed - I have loads of questions about her parents that cross my mind; how would her parents treat me if I kept their daughter out until the wee hours, even if all we did was walking in a park?

Granted, she was an adult, but parents being parents when it came to their own kids, and I was under no illusions that they'd be understanding about the whole thing. She would always be their little girl, if you know what I mean.

But Tania had a point when she explained it to me. I had to meet them someday. Besides, she sounded so excited about the whole thing that all I could say was that I was looking forward to meeting them. Still, I wondered if I'd even be able to hold her hand, and I speculated about whether I could talk her into taking a little detour, should the meeting be at another day? or perhaps another occasion would be better? moon cake festival?

As soon as we reached Mid Valley, my anticipation grew and I could feel my ticker booming. But I didn't know how to act. Should I jog a little toward them as soon as I spotted them or stroll casually, cool and in control? I still wasn't sure, but before I could dwell on it, they were already sitting at the dinning table. I didn't see them at first - too many folks milling around. When Tania told me they are already here, I scanned the area a second time and realized instantly that all my worries had been pointless, for they already spotted us walking towards the table. Her family were waiting for us.

I don't know how long we stood together saying hi to every family member, but when we finally began moving to our seats, I slipped my hand into hers knowing that I loved her not only more than the last time, but more than I would ever love anyone. I want her to know that I'll be feelin' fine and enjoy spending time with her and her family.

Surprising me, her mom started a conversation with me as soon as I seated down, then extended me a big smile of welcome. It was great. Tania's mom, aunty, was a lot like Tania: friendly, pleasant, and a lot sharper than she first came across. Her dad was cool, charming and I actually had a good time meeting them. It didn't hurt that Tania held my hand the whole time and seemed completely at ease doing so.

Toward the end of the evening, she and I went to Baskin Robbins to top things off with some desserts. By the time we got back to the house, it felt almost as if I'd known her parents for a long time. Her family is really nice to me and treat me like I'm part of their family. It was a great first meet.

First date ( Vietnam Kitchen)

2011-09-30T04:46:00.009+08:00

Sunday morning started out well - as the sun came slanting through the blinds, I found my yellow Liverpool jacket and shuffled myself ( half asleep) to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water, looking forward to a leisurely morning. It was only afterward that things started to go a bit nervous. Even before I took my first sip, I remembered my heart pounding all day and night for the past few days.

Well not exactly a date like my title suggested but it's more like a planned lunch kinda a thing. Time is relative. I know I'm not the first one to realize it and my realization had nothing to do with will power, perfect timing or any theory that Einstein might have postulated. Rather, it had to do with the drag of hours to the first date itself.

Yes. I'm nervous.

Everyday, I thought about her. I thought of her again after I woke. I read a bit of the latest news on papers, showered and threw a pair of slacks and shirt, then read for another couple of minutes before glancing at the clock realizing only 10 minutes had passed. That's what I meant by time being relative. I spent the day mind surfing, and though the sermon were better than they'd been the weeks before, I could't really concentrate and decided to call it quits by mid mornings. I debated whether or not to grab a scone at Dream Cafe - the best scones in town, by the way - even I was in the mood, I just could't eat a whole one.

Finally the celebration ended. The sky glowed majestically and the sun was painfully bright and shinning. As I got out, I realized I was more nervous. I couldn't remember the last time any girl had made me nervous, but I couldn't shake the thought that somehow things might have changed between us. I didn't know know how or why I felt that way; all I knew was that I wasn't sure what I'd do if my fear screw me up and proved correct.

I didn't bother saying hi to anyone that day and simply staying in where I was standing. The concourse was packed and I could hear voices picking up down the hallway, and there was the usual collection of church members on the front of the concourse auditorium. There I saw one of my cell member which happen to attend the same SOL class as her. I bravely stepped in, asking for Tania, and was told she was on her way here. I trotted down to the cafe and froze when I saw her walking into the concourse. She hadn't noticed me, and I saw her smiling at someone. As I stood there, I wondered whether she even remembered our date, but she smiled when she saw me as if nothing were amiss.

She stood and ambled toward me. She was wearing a beautiful yellow blouse and a light, beige color shorts that showed her chic-ness when she walked. I could see the additional color on her wrist that spoke hours in the sun. When she got close, she stood there gracefully and planted a smile on my face.

"Hi," she said, waving one arm and another on her rectangular size purse.

"Hi."

As usual, I couldn't think of a instant response, and she looked at my inability to admit I had.

"Let's do lunch," I said. "Jaya 33, Vietnam Kitchen, if that's alright with you?"

"Sure."

She giggled, and I realized I liked talking to her. It was easy and natural, unlike with so many people. Above me, I could see those small little cupid legs; flying just right above my head. Aye! :D

PS: Just for your information, I meet her second sister too for the first time that day. Coincidently her sister and her boyfriend was having lunch at the same place too. Oh well...

Mental Photograph ( Part Two )

2011-01-24T04:06:00.002+08:00

So far, there's never been a puff, bang, boom for me. Nothing even close, for that matter. Sure. there was my ex. Some people at church seemed to think we were perfect for each other and every now and then I'd run into her at church. We chatted once at church bookshop for a minute or so about nothing important and then amicably go our separate ways.

There's had been a few before my ex, of course. I wasn't entirely clueless when it came to women, after all. I found them attractive and interesting, but more than that, I was genuinely fond of them. I was proud of the fact that I'd never shed a tear from the recent break-up despite remotely be considered a painful one. Not all breakups are mutual. Thankfully most of it petering out like a soggy fuse on a fire cracker as opposed to the big kaboom of fireworks overhead. I considered myself still friends with all my exes - R* ( lives in Indonesia now ) included - and figured they'd say the same thing about me. I wasn't right for them, and they weren't right for me. I'd watch some of my former girlfriends get married off to great guys, and I'd been invited to one of them.

Thinking back, I seldom thought about finding permanence or my soul mate, but in rare times I did, I always ended up imagining finding someone who shared the same active, outdoor passions I did. Life was for living, wasn't it? Sure, everyone had responsibilities, and I didn't mind those.I enjoy my work, earned decently, owned a transport, and paid my bills accordingly, but I didn't want a life where those things constituted all there was. I wanted to experience life. No, change that,. I needed to experience life.

Mental Photograph ( Part One )

2011-01-24T04:02:00.004+08:00

Sunday, September 27, 2009 - Old Town White Coffee, Jaya One

After an adrenaline - heart pumping Go-Kart ride with my cell mates at Shah Alam, we adjourned back to PJ for a cup of tea. Upon leaving the cafe, I shuffled my feet, then looked up at Tania.

"I heard that you would like to learn the guitar. If you don't mind, I can teach you." I said with a smile.

"Sure," she said."

The rest is history..

I may be surprised by her answer, but I didn't show it. I thought if she did learn with me, it'll give me a chance to get to know her. I couldn't help it. I really like her and it seemed like the right to do.

For an instant, I thought I'd simply turn and leave. But again I couldn't take my eyes off her and held for just a beat too long. I couldn't help it...

I stood by the window, watching Tania walking back to her car. I was smiling to myself, amused by her expressions. Though I barely knew her, I've seen enough to conclude that she was one of those people whose expressions were a window to their every feeling. It was rare quality these days. he often felt that too many people lived their lives acting and pretending, wearing masks and losing themselves in the process. Tania, I felt certain, would never be that way.

Pocketing my keys, I headed to my car, with the promise that I'll teach her guitar as soon as this coming Tuesday. I retrieved my guitar from Bernard's car boot- and drove home.

Just a few months ago, I would never imagine I would fall in love again. My dreams start to revive again with a thought that one day I'd build my dream home with someone I truly cherish and love. The only problem was that I wasn't quite sure what that entailed.

For the most part, I led a simple life and dreamed of throwing up a rustic little shack like the kind I've seen in Sydney, something with lots of character that appeared a hundred years old on the outside but was surprisingly bright and roomy on the inside. I didn't need much space - a bedroom and maybe a recording studio in addiction to the living area - but as soon as I'd start the process ( Thinking about her ), I'd reason that the my dream was better suited for something more family-friendly. That rendered the image of my dream home fuzzier, since it no doubt included a future wife and kids, neither of which I was even close to imagining.

Sometimes, the way I turned out struck myself as strange, since I broke up at my late twenties. One of my mate had been married for almost 5 years, and I could no more picture myself flapping my arms and zooming into the clouds. Sure, I'd heard stories of how they'd met on a hiking trip while they were in high school, how she sprained her legs and how my mate carry her from the top of the mountain to the bottom. One touch and "Puff, Bang, Boom, just like that," My mate would say, "I knew she was the one for me."

To Be Continue...

Crush

2009-09-07T04:35:00.007+08:00

It had to be Tania, I thought, though for the life of myself, I couldn't understand why. I barely knew her, and I doubted whether I'd even had a chance to meet the real Tania Chong yet. Oh, I'd seen the angry one yesterday night at the cinema for saying the wrong words and the mea culpa one on MSN just a little while ago, but I had no idea how she behaved under ordinary circumstances. I suspected that she had a good sense of humor, though on close reflection, I couldn't pin down the reason I thought so.

And she was no doubt intelligent, though he could have deduced that on the basis of her job. But other than that...I tried and failed to picture her on a date. Still, I was glad she'd come by, if only to give us a chance to start over as good friends. One thing I'd learned was that 'A chicken-out ' spirit without trying could make a person miserable.

Common courtesy, it sometimes seemed to me, was going the way of dinosaurs, and the last thing I wanted was for Tania to feel any reason to avoid me. Maybe I'd invite her for lunch next time with the cell mates...

Yeah, I thought, I'll do that. The decision made, I gathered my lesson books and started back towards my car. As I got in the car, I found myself thinking about Tania and wondering whether she'd ever gone skateboarding or doing some extreme games. It seemed unlikely, but at the same time, I had the strange feeling that unlike most of my exes, she would be up for either of those things, given the opportunity. I wasn't sure why and as I start my engine I tried to dismiss the notion, doing my best to convince myself it didn't matter. She won't like me. End of story. Except for the fact tat, somehow it did.

Mamak

2009-09-03T06:27:00.011+08:00

In the distance, I could see some really hungry working people congregating near the dunes of food of Hairun Maju Mamak, and as I watched them taking their food, I reached for my plate. Lamb on the side, an egg, and a glass of teh halia; I had almost the same thing everyday, after the exact same breakfast of dry bihun, scrambled egg whites, and a banana. I'm blessed with such luxury and comfort from Malaysia. Food and drinks are relatively cheap here. As much as I crazed the occasional adrenaline rush, my diet couldn't be more boring.

Most days of the year are unremarkable. Despite being a Ipoh -ians ( The land of good food ), I can still live without some, it's just, sometimes I'm too lazy to think of where to eat and ended up myself at mamak. Due to time constraints, mamak stalls is the only solution I can think of, plus all mamaks embracing fast food concepts, operating 24 hours, 7 days a week. They even rise to the occasion by broadcasting major events like EPL matches, badminton tournament and even the Olympic Games.

My friends marveled at the rigidity of my so called 'self-control', but what I didn't tell them was that it had more to do with my limited time than self - discipline.

...And yeah I know. My annual yearly resolution totally down the drain. You get my drift.

Lightning Does Strike The Same Place Twice ( At First Sight - Part Two )

2009-07-22T15:59:00.018+08:00

Is love at first sight truly possible?

(7 weeks later after the first encounter)

Driving towards cell, I turned the question over my mind for what seemed to be hundredth time. Will she be there?

Outside, our country's hot sun had long since set. A grayish sheen of haziness was visible through my sight, and aside from the cars burning rubbers on NKVE, all was quiet. It was beautiful and warm. A 'Heart Go Yonder' kind of warm - the kind of temperature that holds you like your mum did, when peace comes in a quiet breeze, and air begs to be taken in lungfuls. It was a lovely day at work, a day that I look at my student's assessment, a day that nourished. And I was lying on my bucket seat, listening to some slow numbers, my windscreen serving as a magnifying glass in the still of the night's moonlight sonata. The moving leaves above the parking lot were sifting moonlights; the stars looked like a thousand diamonds in a dazzling dance. Mmmm, it was beautiful.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, I should be talking about her, and only her. And I was in the best moods to blog about her. The thought of her puts a smile on my face and there's no small delight in my heart. It's a huge one.

After stepping out of the car, I reached down the road to peek in on her. Her car was not there. As I crossed the parking lot, I paused. Who am I to go after her? In all honesty, I'm nothing compared to other guys in the world plus she could have a boyfriend. I'm just an ordinary guy. I flubs my chance to talk to her during our first encounter. Finally, at the brink of losing all of this, I'm losing something even more valuable - 'My Mind'. I don't have a clue whether she'll be here tonight. Perhaps it's just a one off. ( that she visited the cell ) Since then, there's no news from her. If only I have one more chance...

Then suddenly...

All in an instant, a car ascending towards my direction. I stood there in disbelief. IT WAS HER! I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full, but the feeling of butterflies in my stomach surprisingly digested everything.

Well, at the end of the day ..."Who could deny these butterflies?"

All this while, I never understand why there was the cliched phrase, 'It was like being hit by lightning,' until I felt it -I'm smitten I'm bitten I'm hooked I'm cooked!

People used to say "Lightning never strikes the same place twice" but it did.

I drew a deep breath, marched towards the road, reminding myself to say hi and seize any opportunity to know her. I'm trying to figure out exactly where to begin. My heart squeezed again. Up ahead, I instantly spotted an opening and headed towards it. Since there's no parking space left at the neighborhood, I kindly offered my parking space to her. I waved at her, signaling she could park at my parking space. She planted a smile on her face as she waved back at me. As I walked to her car window to offer my thoughts...there's a moment of silence when she smiled.

Up close, she was a beauty, a real beauty - but I suspected that she knew it as well. Lost in my thought, I opened my mouth to say something, then closed again, realizing I'd forgotten my words. For an awkward moment, we eyed each other without speaking. Finally I'm able to collect my thoughts and motioned over my shoulder with my thumb.

"Would you like to have my parking space?"

Change

2009-07-13T20:20:00.017+08:00

"You ready to change?" I said to myself in front of my bathroom mirror

I don't mind if people can see a “few lines on my face,” or the slow decline of his early '90s heydays. I went to my bedroom and slipped into my comfy pants and a grunge, worn D2 t-shirt I owned since high school. It was remarkable now that I thought about it. Considering how crazy it was when I was younger. It seems like just yesterday I started college and got to know new people. And now I'm 28, facing the cold, hard truth. Thinking back, I supposed I could have done more.

Memories trailed behind me, the good ones and the bad ones too. I should have done better in life, if only to be sure. Besides, I had no idea how to go on with my life. Loads of decision making. I wish there was an answer for the fatigue , which reminded me again that I was falling behind in my own resolution to lead a healthier life. Eating better, exercising, sleep regularly, stretching: I'd planned to start as soon as I get over the heart break. A new 'Timmy' resolution of sorts, but it hadn't really taken hold.

Tomorrow, I'll hit the gym, then have a Subway for lunch and another one for dinner. And since I was ready to get on with some serious life changes, 'A Half-Assed Attempt', I really hope God will help me to wrap up my new year's resolution.

My room temperature was still warm, but the light breeze had picked up. The stars spread across he sky in random, intricate patterns. It's time to sleep. I closed my eyes, imagining the scene, and sleep straighter. Tomorrow, I'll start my resolution to become a new person. A better person.

"Life's an Ocean, Sail It." - Good night

Nicknames

2009-07-06T21:25:00.013+08:00

Nicknames are cool. My best friend growing up was bestowed the name "Kumar Lai" by our group of friends because he was the only Indian dude who speaks Cantonese and hangs out with mostly Chinese cats. Over the years, his titled morphed, but the roots have remained. He now goes by "Blackie" though some of his friends calls him "Kumar Lai." Even in our late twenties, I still call him by this moniker.

My another homie in our fraternity earned the nickname "Budak Keecii (Little Boy)" for some reasons not worth mentioning, but sadly the name that was stuck was "Joshua 'Lala' Lui," for some reasons not needing explanation. Fortunately for Josh, high-school was only five years, and his nickname didn't follow him (though the small boy frame did)

A nickname is sometimes considered desirable, symbolising a form of acceptance, but can also be a form of ridicule. Some of my homies have endured, even exploited, their unusual physical characteristic - for instance, Chiung Mo (Long Hair), Iban Boy (his haircut during school days that looks like Iban tribes people), and Pak Kuai ('White Ghost' because he's awfully fair for being a mix breed)

Other famous people have acquired nicknames for their gifts and talents. Fernando Torres was "El-Niño (The Kid)," Steven Gerrard was "The British Bulldog," and Jamie Carragher was "Mr. Liverpool." I don't know if Rafa Benitez "Gaffa," got his name for being a strong, tough football tactician or simply he's the Liverpool Football Club's boss. Either way, what a great name!

I have always wanted super-cool one, but alas, it has not been my lot. It's like I wear a permanent nickname slicker that repels any label that might splash my direction. I've had some short lived ones, usually mutated manipulations of my name and size: LaiSiFatt, Timmo, German Shepherd, PeterAndre (my hair-style that time), Phatboy, Romeo, Casanova, Wolverine, etc. But nothing has stuck. My homies gave me such a unique name that no invention of man has been able to match or exceed it.

But there are other kinds of names ...

I believe when it comes to your own family (my mum), you get another type of name. A pet name. Whereas nicknames have failed to stick, my sorry (my pet name is coated with super glue). I've done everything possible to get rid of it, but like a bad rash, it keeps coming back.

Help...

At First Sight ( Part One )

2009-06-22T08:32:00.025+08:00

June 17th, 2009. 9.00pm

I remembered it was cloudy Wednesday evening and i was on my way to cell. My mate, Bernie, with rather mischievous eyes swing the door wide open for me. And told me that a beauty is visiting our cell. Well, as usual, I gave my mate the benefit of the doubt.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, as I gave him a pat on his back.
"Don't mention!" he grunted as I walked towards the living room. The next 7 steps was a revelation.

The moment I saw her, my world has stopped. All in an instant, and POOF! Like magic, and my heart suddenly swells in resonance before my eyes, It sings! Every sight of me turns Grey excepts her. Shes appears to be the only colored thing I see. (Man, how the butterflies stirred! How the butterflies stir even now as I write) I sat awkwardly, for about thirty seconds which felt like an eternity.

She played with the hair behind her ear and smiled. She was wearing a Grey blouse, a matching shorts, and not to mention a pair of smooth and well toned legs. She brought her face to the lighting of the room. And when she looked at me, her eyes caught a fluorescent light beam and did a dazzle-dance of their own. She was beautiful. That was the moment I first noticed. I looked back at her uncomfortably. Her hands were calmly laced around her knee, painting a picture of endless serenity.

My mind was blank wonder. I just didn't get it. How could someone so sweet, so cute, so lovely, so gorgeous...so wonderful...so awesome (words fail me)--How did someone like her fly under the radar for so long? The world may never know, as the old 70's tootsie roll ads used to say.

"How can she not turn heads?", I wonder.
With her big brown eyes, her gentle gaze, slender fingers and most of all, her intriguing smile.

Whatever the reason may be, I know I had fallen for an angel of a lass by the name of T* - God, was she beautiful. She wore her hair in a ponytail and had a smile that could melt Antarctica. I took a breath, prayed and conjure on the wings of Cupid out of mythological hibernation and request him to loose an arrow for me. (Stop daydreaming Timmy - again)

At the end of cell meeting, I eventually got over my 2 hours of sweaty palms and drippy 'smells good' armpits (whenever she was within foul-shot range during ice breaker), 2 hours of miniature heart attacks and an obvious tongue-ties. (when I finally able to break the silence and introduce myself at the end of the meeting.)

*Timmy blushed, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.

Just before she rode out of sight, she glanced back and fluttered her fingers in the air, waving her last goodbye. It was strange to think of the unexpected twists a man's life could take. I closed my eyes and, on the back of my lids, envisioned more days like this. The image looked good. I tucked that mental photograph like a bookmark in my mind.

To Be Continue...

Along Came Spider

2009-06-09T00:41:00.013+08:00

Equatorial Malaysia has hot and wet weather all year round, with temperatures in the 30s°C. But wait, we're not talking about weather here; we're talking about most Malaysian cities houses - that attic space slightly above middle class with barely enough room to fit a bed, couch, bookshelf and me. And as long as you didn't mind the dust seeping through the floorboards, the voyeuristic birds watching you sleep through your windows, Muslim prayers broadcast-ed 5 times a day beside my house, (the first one starts at 5am) and the occasional spider with his web through the yellow-stained tiles, it was heaven on earth.

Actually, I think there was only one spider. But he was everywhere, and he was big - crazily huge. Gargantuan. I'm not exaggerating-his abdomen alone spanned the length of my middle finger. He had chelicerae the size of a bird's beak - and not a hummingbird, mind you, a big one. His head-well, it looked like an eight ball. My Spider had Guinness Book written all over him. He was a sight to behold, and you could not help but just notice him.

Once, I tried to exterminate him by smacking him with a Star Papers. But when I lifted the newspaper to check for carnage, there he was, sitting with hardly a scratch. I gaped as I watched his glassy eyes turn to look at me, as if to say, "If you know what's good for you, you will NEVER do that again!" Spider walked away, his polished head shaking in a "people these days!" motion.

I stood, stunned, watching my insect roommate waddle his fat self under the left leg of my plaid couch. My newspaper weapon uncurled in my hand, and I stared in jaw-drop disbelief at this creature's resilience. Those things are indestructible. No wonder they can survive a nuclear holocaust.

I never engaged in combat with Spider again. Every once in a while I would shift my magazines in the bathroom and interrupt his napping or open a book and catch him reading or looking at pictures. But we mostly kept to ourselves and stayed out of each other's way. On the whole, Spider and I cohabited quite nicely. Sometimes I imagine that this is a hype-up radioactive spider that would bite me and give me superpowers.You know...'Spiderman?' (Stop daydreaming Timmy)

In fact, one night while I was playing guitar on the throne of my bathroom, singing to the dust mites on my unused shampoos, he and I even became friends. For no particular reason, I was singing with notable passion that evening. As I strummed, I closed my eyes and pictured an arena full of swaying fans and swooning women. On the last chord, the corners of my lips curled to the skylight, and I raised my hand in salute like a true rock star, I could almost hear the crowd's roar, and I basked in the moment. But when I opened my eyes back to my lonely reality, I realized I was not alone. There he was, a foot away from my knee, spectating from a green plaid square on the bathroom mat Spider had been listening! I didn't even know they had ears! The thought melted my heart.

"I didn't know I had a real audience tonight," I said to Spider. "You want to hear another?" He settled back on his hind legs as if to say, Bring it on. So I started a song I had written about 'little pumpkin' and sang it to my roommate and a new friend, Spider bobbed in his head back and forth to the beat.

"Spider, wherever you are, I hope you are doing well. And if you ever read this some day, thanks for keeping me company, and thanks for keeping quiet when my family and friends were here. Hope you're enjoying all those things spiders do, whatever they are. And someday, after humans blow ourselves to smithereens in a final nuclear holocaust, when it is just you and all the other spiders, remember me with a smile. Remember that guy who once tried and failed to kill you. Remember that guy who used to sing you songs. And on those warm evenings, as you huddle your family in the alcoves of radioactive cardboard, as you watch the sun fade into the fallout wasteland, as you feel a gentle urge to look through the mental photograph of your own memory, hum a little diddy for me, ok?"

Poser Onion

2009-06-08T13:50:00.011+08:00

"I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid" (Gen. 3:10)

I remember driving back from a futsal game one night, a friend and I were just sort of shooting the breeze about life and relationships and work. As the conversation deepened, he began to admit some of the struggle he was having. Then he came out with this confession: The truth is, Tim, I feel like I'm just faking my way through life...and that someday soon I'll be exposed as impostor."

Wow, I'm surprised. This is a popular, successful guy who most people like the moment they meet him. He's bright, articulate, funny, and purpose driven. He's in a relationship with a beautiful women, has a great job, drives a new car, and basically living his dream. There is nothing on the outside that says, "going through loads of problem." But inside, it's another story. It always be. Truth to be told, most of us faking our way through life. We pick only those battles we are sure to win, only those adventures we are sure to handle, only those beauties we are sure to rescue.

Sadly, the same sort of thing goes on Sundays mornings church celebration, its just a different set of rules. A friend (Friend A) runs into another friend (Friend B) in the church lobby the other day and automatically both wearing their happy faces, though neither is happy at all.

"Hey, man, how are you?" Friend A is actually going through a tough time with his girlfriend and ready to leave her, but he says, Great, just Great. The Lord is good!"

Friend B, on the other hand, hasn't believed in the goodness of God, ever since his ex-girlfriend dumped him for another man. "Awesome - God is good, all the time. I'm so glad to be here praising God." "Me too. Well, I'll be praying for you man!"

I would love to see a tally of the number of prayers actually prayed against the number of prayers actually prayed against the number of prayers promised. I bet its about one in a thousand. "And I'll be praying for you too. Well, gotta go! You take care."

"Take care" is our saying, "I'm done with this conversation and I want to get out of here but I don't want to appear rude so I'll say something that sound meaningful and caring," but in truth, some friends doesn't give a rip to each other.

All of us are hiding, every last one of us. We are well aware that we, too, are not we were meant to be, afraid that people know, desperately afraid of exposure, terrified of being seen for what we are and are not, we have to run off into the bushes and hide. We hide in our office, at the gym, behind the newspaper and mostly behind our personality. Most of what you encounter when you meet someone a facade, an elaborate fig leaf, a brilliant disguise.

One Little Word - Cherish

2009-06-06T01:24:00.014+08:00

In the memory of a friend loved by many - RIP Jeffrey Loh (1981 - 2004)

"Timmy, it's all right to cry."

I'd held it off all day, but the moment the coffin slid through the cremation chamber brought the biggest lump yet to my throat. It felt like I could have choked. But still I refused to cry. The arm around me grew tighter as I turned my face into the folds of my own coat. Under the other side, my mate James sobbed uncontrollably with huge heaves that shook his whole body.

"Timmy, don't hold it all in"

But I was going to hold it all in. All of it. I'd held it in for weeks, even though it had tried to escape many times. On the way to the crematorium it had threatened to break right through my chest, but I'd crossed my arms over my ribs to keep it imprisoned. He is one of my close mates in school, and whatever it was I was holding in, I wanted to keep it there. For myself I was frightened if I did as my other mates told me and let it out, it would be gone. Forever. So I kept it in.

I came to a sad realization, I didn't actually cry for anything either, but I was surprise by how similar some of the feelings were. Somehow, I didn't want what I had of him inside to disappear either. We'd hang out, we play arcade together, we chill, we went separate ways to study, but somehow down the days, we'd connected. I promised him that we would meet up soon but it didn't happen because I had been busy. I blame myself. What was it about my own ambition that I found so difficult to fulfill such a simple promises? Perhaps our early years as friends, gaming, laughing and loving the music, meant he understood me better than I thought he did. It was a shock, but I missed him terribly. In some ways I'd started to think of him as the brother I never had. And why could I only admit that now? Why couldn't I talk to him about it while he was still around? And maybe there was even more to it than that.
Well it serves a timely reminder that we should always cherish and treasure our friends, our parents and our loves ones every single day of our lives. You don't want to feel regret after they're gone. You never know what you have until it's gone.

Reflection Train ( Part Three )

2009-06-05T12:24:00.011+08:00

I was under no illusions that I'd ever be in the same league as my heroes, not least because, though I could hold a harmony, I would never be a proper singer, and most of my mates were already a far better player and songwriter. But surely the hours spent with knitted brow over the fretboard couldn't be said to be wasted, could they?

Admittedly I'd earned decent cash from music over the years but all musicians hang on to the remote possibility that could change at any moment, simply because music industry here is so bleak and uncertain. That discovery lurks around the next corner.

A good question, and one I'd been pondering. I didn't have an answer yet but what was certain was that, without anything else in my life, music was going to have to fill a big part of it, and that meant getting back to the flow.

'Aye, you're right, boy. It's just that sometimes I get so worried wondering what happen to you in KL and since your dad is not supporting the family anymore, I'll just have to depend on my three wonderful kids. You play your guitar if you want to. Now drink the left-over barley before bed.'
She didn't say left-over really. I made that bit up. But I did have a glass of barley. And then I go to bed. And the following day I did feel much better. When crazy isn't crazy anymore: Life balance and insanity. A job well done but still a long to go...

Reflection Train ( Part Two )

2009-06-03T04:12:00.011+08:00

'Timmy, look at the state of you! come here and let's get you inside and sorted out."

That's the great thing about mums and coming home. You need sorting out, other wise you wouldn't be back. They know you need sorting out or you wouldn't be back. You know they can't sort you out anymore and they know you know that, but there's still the illusion that they can. That they will. And whilst you haven't got the heart to tell them they won't, you've got even less heart to admit it to yourself.

My mum reckoned she could tell a lot about a man from his hands too. My dad had spent years manufacturing chalks, so anyone with soft hands was a cut above in her book. I knew resistance was futile. My mother's obsession of knowing my life in KL was too deeply grounded to be shaken now. I placed my open heart at her disposal whilst she ran through her naggy mummy's love over and under like an super advanced chatty jukebox, fretting at the discovery of every details.

'Your life is pretty tiring, Timmy. You don't even have time for yourself. How can you work seven days a week? Tomorrow I'll boiled you herbal tea. You've been wasting too much time with that guitar as usual.'

Whether the time spent refining my guitar technique was wasted or not was debatable. It's true that I had spent more hours that was probably healthy alone, hunched over my beloved Ibanez guitars, but I was striving to be as good as I could be. Ever since I'd been an adolescent, and most of my mates had been into chart music, prog rock, fusion or most commonly jazz, I'd lost my heart to RnB singer-song writers like Marvin Gaye, Passion, Gabe Bondoc and John Mayer especially, and I wanted to be able to do what they did. The way they could hold an audience with just a song and a voice and a finger-picked guitar transfixed me.It was as impressive in its own quiet was as seeing a comedian make people laugh with nothing but a microphone and a few choice observations.

To Be Continue...

Reflection Train ( Part One )

2009-06-02T01:36:00.015+08:00

Leaving to metro KL by myself is quite obvious that i am far from my comfort zone...

I never made a conscious decision to go home, it just kind of happened every time. I suppose it was simply that was nowhere else I could go except for my family. I phoned my mum to let her know I was coming back to Ipoh for a couple of days and of course she was thrilled. Since my dad rarely come home, the days had seemed that bit longer to her, the evenings that bit darker, the silences that bit deeper. I knew how she felt. My social life in KL had been generally full of the buzz, hung around church friends, football, teaching and playing music. I love my job here..

..but most nights it ended with halfhearted strum of the guitar, sleepless nights and the suspicion that life was drifting by without notable achievements. It was harder for Mum, of course. She'd stayed on in the house, and which my brothers - Jacky, Kelvin and I had grown up. The 'Ria' Garden was a remarkable place on an remarkable estate, Bercham Town, not to mention the fantastic neighborhood and food that will leave you drooling.

That my old mate Joshua Lui still lived on First Garden is certainty. And not only because I'd phoned him before coming home to make sure there'd be at least someone I could go for a pint with whilst I pondered and rest from a hectic KL life. That Joshua still lived in the same house was a certainty because he was conceivably the most bone idle waster ever to drag himself to the working world. Since he chose to reject his daily job, in favour of a thus far longer standing devotion to idleness. Except for practicing the guitar, of course, but then we'd all done that. On reflection, perhaps Joshua wasn't the ideal sounding board for my ponderings and relaxing trip after all, as he had little discernible future of his own. Or so I thought. (Just kiddin' homie if you are reading this =p)

When I put my hand on the familiar paint decaying blue gate of my house and pushed, it was as if I was sixteen again, coming in from school. The gate dangling even more precariously than I'd remembered from the corroding hinges that my DIY-'ambitious' father somehow never got round to looking at, scraped once more, creating the tell-tale grind that let her know I'd arrived. The dim glow of the hall light spread into gloaming, revealing the stout, beaming presence of my mum, in all her knitwear glory.

'Timmy, look at the state of you! come here and let's get you inside and sorted out."

To Be Continue...

Homies

2009-05-29T02:52:00.011+08:00

"Friends are God's way of taking care of us" - Unknown Author.

God designed us to have close relationships with others and with Him. Cherish true friendships. You can be yourself with a true friend. There should be mutual respect and honesty in your relationship, where you can count on your true friend being there for you - a text, an email, or a phone call away.

We all have our homies. A lot gets talked about friendships. Everyone wants a true friend to someone, and many of us believe that we have a friend who can be called a true homies. What kind of relations do friends share? When can we call a friend a true friend, and when can our friends take us as their true friend. After a romantic relationship, friendships are the most important relationships we can have. Though all of us have family and distant family, most of us rely on friends for advice, comfort and inspiration. How do we define a relation that can be called as one of true friendship?

The very first sign of a very good friend, not necessarily a true friend is that we are not worried about courtesies.(Actually I'm still struggling with this) You will call your friend at any hour and talk without any thought of time in your mind. Similarly, whenever you need support, you will call a very good friend and ask him/her to help you out. They expect the same from you. Another important trait of such relations is that we are not much worried about exposing ourselves. We speak about everything in our mind without worrying about what our friends will think. We are sure that they will take our talk in the spirit it was made. We are unguarded and open with friends in our talk. (The truth is I kept loads of things to myself and be there for other people but when it comes to my own, I closed all the doors until it settles by itself.)

When it comes to close friends, I'm trying to be the best for others, I will go all out but when it comes to allowing others to be my best, I tend to shut down everything, worried it might burden anyone. Weird right?

Prejudices

2009-05-28T02:32:00.020+08:00

Prejudice is like peanut butter - easy to spread, but sometimes hard to swallow.

"I can't stand (particular races)! They're so selfish, lazy and biased towards their own people!"

"I don't give a darn, knowing what she did to my friend. I heard loads of things about her!"

"What! Going out with her?"

We heard such remarks on all sides. So seldom are they based on reason that they may be considered the earmark of the thoughtless, the uninformed, the cruel. They express prejudices.

Let's not confuse prejudices with preferences. It is natural to prefer somethings to others - one's wife, home, country, or religion, for example. Preferences becomes prejudice when we refuse to see the good in anything we happen to dislike. Prejudice isn't reasoned opinion. It condemns without trial. It rejects evidence before facts can presented or considered. It affects our treatment of persons and things, distorts our judgment and works toward our own injury and disadvantage.

Prejudice doesn't pay, either in friends, in self-esteem, or in happiness. Like unfavorable criticism and fault finding, it repels rather than attracts people. Prejudice lessens your enjoyment of life, not only because it keeps you from knowledge and deprives you of many pleasures. It is a poor heritage to pass on to your children, who are bound to build their prejudices around yours. Your hatred of country life, that particular person, perhaps acquired from your parents, friends that shares their view, may prevent yourself from ever knowing the joys of knowing that Nature could have given them. Your prejudice against classical music, perhaps a result of having had to practice the piano when you were a child, may keep you and your children from genuine appreciation and pleasure. Your stubborn prejudice against a certain actor may cause you to miss a fine drama. Your contempt from a race or a religion will narrow your mind and shrink the stature of your soul.
Prejudices can cramp your character and cripple your career. Your call...

Transient Insomnia

2009-05-27T10:37:00.022+08:00

Waking up after only a couple of hours of sleep and immediately plunging into intense activity can lend the activity the alternately surreal and hyper-real quality of a dream; I was thinking this at 7:00 Monday morning as I wrestled the resistant of my own body to the bathroom, half awake and drag myself to my car, eyes close; Blek!

It's confirmed, I am victim to transient insomnia. The second my mind has something to hold onto, my OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) kicks in and I go through bouts of massive insomnia. It's not all bad, I get a lot of work done. I also find time to hone my guitar skills at times like this especially you are aware practicing every day is ideal.

However, come the next day, I decided not to let this insomnia get the best of me. I launched a project call 'Project Sleeping Early'. Seriously is hard to sacrifice football but I guess it will be worth it in the end (At least I tried, right?)

Mourning Booth

2009-05-26T13:37:00.015+08:00

Depression is the great disease of our age, our generation with no war to fight, fighting for their will to live. There comes a time that everybody feels like down in the hole. You lose the will to go out, socialize, even to talk with friends. You can't smile you used to do even smile like before.

There is a season in everyone’s life of walking through the valley. Even though it is in our nature as human beings to want to fix things, sometimes all that is needed is our presence. I recently came across a video by the SkitGuys entitled 'The Mourning Booth'. Here's some insights on the video...

Psalm 23 says, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

The valley- it is a depression or an extended canyon that seems to go in one direction. It seems like it could go on forever. You see, we all seem to go through these valleys in our life. We may be entering the valley, we may be in the middle of the valley, or we’re about to leave the valley. And the valley… it can come in all different shapes and forms. It can be the loss of a friendship, the metaphorical death of a dream or missed opportunity. It can even be the literal death of someone that we love. Basically, it is something that ceases to exit in our lives as we now know it.

Ecclesiastes says there is a time for everything. There is a time to laugh…and there’s a time to cry. It’s that mourning season. It is that season of pain.

Everyone hurts at some point. We all feel the pain of experiencing the valley of the shadow of death. When we are in the midst of pain, it feels like it goes on forever. There is no relief in sight. I’m not talking about having a bad day or even a big inconvenience.I’m talking about those seasons when the pain hurts in our bones… in our gut… down to the very core of who we are.
So where do we go when we mourn? Where do we go with those thoughts of pain and those wounds? Jesus said, “For those that are mourning, do just that… mourn. But he also gave a promise that there will be comfort. So for those people who are in the valley with no end in sight, they must be comforted. And we want to help. We want to be there for people. But in reality, there are no words that we can say for someone who is sitting in their mourning booth.
In everyone's life there is a time where we have a season where we must walk through the valley. To those on the outside looking in, we tend to want to help "fix" it for them. To those that are walking in the valley though, the concept of "fixing" it is an impossible feat. Even though each moment is an eternity filled with despair, sometimes all they need is someone to simply "be" there.

So the next time you see someone in mourning, depression, despair or they are just simply out of kilter... don't be afraid to allow them their season, but also just be there. You get the drift.

Teaching Music

2009-05-24T18:41:00.018+08:00

Being Head of Department in a music school is about responsibility. Every single student in the school is under your care whether you're the one who teaches them or not. Their results stops with you. You need to be able to look at their family and tell them your kid did everything they could to excel well in their exams. Their technical expect. Their song preparation. You get caught up, taking care of their result is crucial and the responsibility makes you more cautious. You take care of the whole aspect and you sacrifice your own.

On the side note... Being a teacher is the best job that anyone can offer.

For me, teaching is a way to build an eternal bond with another person. I love the communication that builds from scratch between you and your students. Remember how your friend taught you to whistle? Now realize that this satisfaction is even greater when you share an insight into living.

I don't sell myself short. I want to have the ability to make a positive impact. I don’t have to be a social worker or a doctor. Anyone can teach, with one piece of wisdom you can help humanity and make your student grow musically.

I always think back the growth experiences that changes me along the years. Perhaps something made you more mature. Or enabled you to take disappointments better. Or to be more independent, or more tolerant of others. If the memory has stuck with you, then it’s worth sharing with others.

New Hangouts

2009-05-23T09:45:00.019+08:00

If you think you would like a band that expresses that sentiment in a more versatile way, have I got a band for you. One Friday evening Bernard, Amelia, Jacky, Ivan and I went and see a house band from 'Shalome' located right in the commercial centre of Taman Tun Dr.Ismail. Everyone in the audience (except for us - 'our first time') had a thing for them; the general ambiance was that we had stumbled on the secret subterranean meeting-place of an ascetic yet hip cult of some nature (adding to this vibe:the beer were on offer that day).

A brief 1st set by a deep melancholy, bluesy guitar riff that unfolded the band’s true roots, fits perfectly with their happily redolent Americana sound; the rolling harmonies and melodies, a gritty, rugged, youthful sound with still, smoothed edges of age and wisdom to add weight and balance. After around 20 minutes they took the stage again. This time they played more heavy tunes as the night got 'Younger'. Their songs, as far as I can tell, are very well arranged and they played it really beautiful and melodic without being cheesy or precious in the “look at us, playing the good music" way.

My favorite moment of the night and I suspect my mates as well was when the band hit the third set with some old 70's tunes specially dedicated the songs to the remaining crowd and also to those audience was literally sobering that they didn’t know (or pretended not to know) what was going on! Some of them just danced as the music played along. Meanwhile Bernard and I were like “This song, WOO!” Everyone in the audience seemed to know the song and happily sang along without any hesitation, all except the group of us who sat quietly, enjoying our view. Could also have been due to our lack of 70's song knowledge, I guess.

Communication

2009-05-22T01:18:00.010+08:00

Communication. It’s the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking; the harder it becomes to know what to say or how to ask for what we really need.

We may teach our children to say, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” but it’s just not true. Words can hurt. Words can cut. In fact, at the root of our word sarcasm is the notion of cutting flesh. Anyone who has ever been on the receiving end of sarcastic speech knows the accuracy of that idea.

The world would have us believe that since it’s unhealthy to keep our emotions bottled up, we should allow ourselves to “vent.” Unfortunately, this means we often use our words to vent anger, irritation, disappointment, impatience, stress, insecurity, guilt or whatever negative emotion we may be feeling at the time. Usually, those who are standing closest to us at the time are the ones who are wounded in the blast.

At the end of the day there are some things you just can't help but talk about. Some things we just don't want to hear. And some things we say because we can't stay silent any longer. Some things are more than what you say. They're what you do. Some things you say because there's no other choice. Some things you keep to yourself. And not too often, but every now and then, some things simply speak for themselves.

Games?

2009-05-21T05:04:00.017+08:00

A good football game can have us all on the edge of our seats especially the top four playing each other. All of my life I’ve been a proud supporter of Liverpool FC. So I guess I should be feeling gutted right now, because I've just witness our bitter rival winning the league again. Obviously there is some disappointment but while we always remained hopeful, I think deep down we all knew weeks back that this would be the likely outcome.

(The people in the Baywatch Bar are focused on a football game being shown on ESPN)

I realize football games are all about the glory, pain and the play-by-play. And then there are the more solitary games. The games we each play all by ourselves. The social games, the mind games, we use them to pass the time to make life more interesting. To distract us from what’s really going on.

There are those of us that love to play games. Any game. They love challenges. They love the risk. And there those of us who love to play… a little too much, playing hard and fast. I believe life is not only a spectator sport but it's how you determine it or how you do it. Win, lose or draw, the life game is in progress. Whether we want it to be or not.

So go ahead. Argue with the referees. Change the rules. Play it hard. Cheat a little. Take a break. And tend to your wounds and continue again. But when you play, you play … Play hard. Play fast. Play loose and free. Play as if there is no tomorrow. You have only one life, why not do something?

Okay, so the game it’s not whether you win or lose. It’s how you play the game. Right?

Growing up

2009-05-19T06:32:00.009+08:00

After some careful consideration and many sleepless nights, here’s what I’ve decided. There’s no such thing as a grown up. Since graduating high school in ‘98, I have reduced my comfort zone to my house; and venture a new world, thus leading to a cycle of more fear to the land of metro Kuala Lumpur. We move on, we move out, we move away from our families and form our own. But the basic insecurities, the basic fears and all those old wounds just grow up with us.

And just when we think that life and circumstance have forced us to truly once and for all become an adult …( I called my mum a while ago)

… your mother says something like that.

" Tai Boy, No matter how old you are now, you'll always be my 12 years old "

' Hmmm' Or worse.

" I remember you're crazy over Dragon Ball cartoons last time" "What mum?"

Or something like that. Don't get me wrong, I really love my mum. I really do!

We get bigger, we get taller, we get older, we get fatter or thinner. But for the most part, we’re still a bunch of kids. Running around the playground trying desperately to fit into our unnatural society. I’ve heard it’s possible to grow up. I’ve just never met anyone who’s actually done it. Without parents to defy we break the rules we make for ourselves. We throw tantrums when things don’t go our way.We whisper secrets with our best friends in the dark.We look for comfort where we can find it. And we hope. Against all logic. Against all experience. Like children, we never give up hope.

Denial

2009-05-18T04:57:00.009+08:00

During the first few months of this new stage of my life, I found it impossible to get out of bed, my bones ached, and I had a strong desire to sleep for the next 100 years. There is no denying a broken heart can cause a lot of pain. We deny that we're tired; we deny we're scared; we deny how badly we want to succeed in our lives and most importantly we deny that we're in denial. We only see what we want to see and believe what we want to believe. And it works. We lie to ourselves so much that after a while the lies start to seem like the truth. We deny so much that we can't recognize the truth ... right infront of our faces.
Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage. Not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired. We are scared. Denying it doesn't change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial, and face the world head on, guns blazing. For the record, I haven't been crying for years. Am I living in denial? When the dam burst, I'll know - whether or not I can stop crying.
'Denial. It's not just a river in Egypt. It's a freakin' ocean'
So how do you keep from drowning in it?

Childhood Dreams?

2009-05-17T14:16:00.016+08:00

You know how when you were a kid and you believed in your dreams?
That fantasy of what your life would be? A Gibson Les Paul guitar as my first guitar, Technically as good as Steve Vai or Paul Gilbert - who would carry you away to become a 'Super Rockstar' through a famous rock band. You'd lie in bed at night and close your eyes, and you had complete and utter faith. Sharing the same stage as Steve Vai, your first electric guitar, becoming a recording artist, they were so close, you could taste them.

But eventually, you grow up. One day you open your eyes and the dream disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is, it's hard to let go of that dreams entirely. Cause almost everyone still has that smallest bit of home, of faith, that one day they'll open their eyes and it will all come true.

At the end of the day, faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don't expect it. It's like one day you realize that the dream may be slightly different than you dreamed. The concert? Well, it may not be Wembley Stadium stage. And it's not so important that it's happy ever after. Just that it's happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you. And once in a while, people may even take your breath away.

Whether we like it or not, everything starts and finishes with a dream.

Vietnam

2009-05-06T23:58:00.014+08:00

A brief report of my trip in Vietnam . .
It's Independence day in Ho Chi Minh. The city itself is an ongoing party, and everyone is celebrating. Clichés converge at this navel of the world. You almost want to laugh, but you can't help feeling these Vietnamese know more about having fun than we do. I had a lot of their infamous 'Beef Noodle' from here, and the red meat sweetness breaks open in my mouth. It even smells red. One more thing to mention before i forgets, of the many myths that mushroomed from the carnage of this land, the coffee here is just pure class. My caffeine addiction is hitting up my veins again.

I wish I could stay longer, but my work back in Malaysia kinda reminds me of my time here has come to an end . . .

Be Thankful

2009-04-28T01:17:00.010+08:00

Gratitude, appreciation, giving thanks. No matter what words you use it all means the same thing. Happy.We’re supposed to be happy. Grateful for friends, family. Happy just to be alive.Whether we like it or not.

I used to like Chinese New Year. Day people spend with their families. I also realized too much family time do triggers a bit of depression, repressed some childhood rage, Relatives bitter disputes over pass years resentment and way too much wine and alcohol kills the mood especially my beloved dad talking his way out. Some people get stupid. Some people get violent and some people get hurt. But I'm thankful for what I have and you have to realize some people in the world have even less than you.
Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Maybe being grateful is recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciate small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human. Maybe we’re thankful for the familiar things we know. And maybe we’re thankful for things we’ll never know.
At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing …… is reason enough to celebrate. Just be thankful for what you have and use your energy towards attaining what you don't have.

Early Days

2009-04-22T20:16:00.006+08:00

Here's another early post. For the record, I was contemplating the world ahead whether to publish all the old post i wrote. Well as my soul heals the shame, I believe I've moved on. To my amazement, all these old post actually makes me - grow-up faster and eventually become a better person . . .

A twin Ikea top shelves sits in a corner on my table. My room is still filled with
'Relationship days' remnants that have seen better days. As I unpacks my CD case, loneliness finally overwhelms me. I sits heavily on the edge of the bed, tears threatening...

Everyone wants to be loved and needed, particularly by the person who just broke up with us. I understand. What could be better than hearing from a girl who just told you she didn't want you in her life anymore, her sad, wistful " It's the same announcing it on my Facebook" voice on the other end of the phone? It's validating. It's exciting. It's irresistible. Fine! But what are we suppose to do instead?

Breakups, I've heard, are supposed to be just that. Breaks. Hard, clean breaks. No talking, no seeing, no emailing . . . keep everything to yourself. The relationship is over. Half the people I know move on pretty slow, some takes years after a huge breakup, and frankly that makes perfect sense to me. Again, for the most part, I'm not done yet, but I've made an admirable beginning.

Complicated

2009-04-22T01:11:00.010+08:00

This is a common occurrence, as it is a part of the writing process for a blog that explores something about my life. I didn't publish most of it because it brings 'The Great Depression' to my life and others as well. It is endlessly fascinating. I know that sounds sarcastic, but I'm being for real. This is of them that I didn't publish after writing a while ago..

He's that guy that's so tired from work, so stressed about the band coordination he's working on. He's just been through an awful breakup and it's really hitting him hard. His parents' indirect separation has scarred him last time and the breakup causes him more trust issues.

Right now he has to focus on his career. He can't get involved with anyone until he knows what his life is about. Recently he received a job opportunity to work and study the same time in Australia. The move is highly questionable because he doesn't wants to go there, just to run away from the facts of life. But as soon as it all calms down he'll leave everything behind and starts a new life there.

Hey-do you remember that movie when the girl waited around for the guy to ask her out, then made excuses when he didn't?

People are inspired to do remarkable things to find and be with the one they love. Big movies are made about it, and every relationship you admire bursts with a greatness that you hope for in your own life. And the more you value yourself, the more chance you'll have of getting it.

I just don't want my next relationship to built on a shitty foundation anymore.

My health

2009-03-05T22:56:00.010+08:00

I was dizzy; it was hard to concentrate. Deep worries swirled around in my head, and my health is transitioning from bad to worst. I tried to breath normally. I needed to concentrate, to find a way out of this nightmare and it has been very tired all weekend, dizzy and cold sweating. I still have that faint drumbeat in my chest calling me out for help. It sort of feels like I'm having muscle spasms in the ride side of my chest. It radiates through the bottom of my neck and around the shoulder area (where tension is heavily carried by most usually). The pressure on my chest is intolerable.

So love, life, now health, meaning . . . over?

I still can’t believe this bower bleeding thing happened to me. I know it happened, but I can’t believe it happened. I lay awake at night going over every detail of the process in my head. And then I saw it...the only thing scary enough to scare me after the experience I’d been through.

Nevertheless, there is nothing that I will not brave for my own life; I deserve much more than that. I believe I'll be alright..

Love is the thing, you know!

2009-03-03T12:32:00.010+08:00

Of late, I've been trying to keep my room as clean as possible - so came this very day, as I was unloading some stuff from one of the boxes, I caught a glimpse of something that lay beneath the surface -- It’s the 'Engagement Ring'. " Ding Ding Ding" - I'm looking at it not knowing what to do. I'm still thinking whether to get rid of it. Naw! it’s just too beautiful. I’ll just gonna bury it deep in the back like I did with my feelings.

Do you miss her? "Every day"

You know, it’s weird - I haven’t shed a tear at all. Maybe you’re only allotted a certain amount of tears per man and I used mine up last time. Recently i got a good friend who tells me the same thing -

" Yeah. I know how you feel ‘cause, my girlfriend broke up with me last year. And I miss her all the time "

Suddenly, it dawned on me - there were two broken hearts in my-walk in. And it threw me so hard ‘cause, you know, I thought she's was the love of my life. She said she loved me and all for the past few years but didn’t think I was “the one” for her in the end. And that hurt. But you know --whatever. I’m trying not going to give up on love.
Love is the thing, you know!

Depression speaking?

2009-02-28T06:10:00.022+08:00

Sometimes I think I'm in danger of never recovering.

“You know when you come across one of those empty-shell people,
and you think, ‘What the hell happened to you?’ Well, there came
a time in each one of those lives where they were standing at a
crossroads...”


And do you know the most surprising thing about breaking up?

It doesn't actually kills you like a bullet to the heart or
a head-on car wreck.

Well, it should, after 5 years in a relationship,when someone
you've promised to cherish till death do you part says,


"God gave me the assurance to break up and
I do feel God's peace with me when i made that decision "


and the next thing you know she is going out with another guy
just right after the break up - WOW!
That should kill you instantly.


You shouldn't have to wake up day after that,
trying to understand how in the world you didn't know.
The light just never went on, you know.
I must have have known, of course,
but I was too scared to see the truth.
Then fear just makes you so stupid.
Oh, love is blind. Yeah, we have that saying, too.
Everybody has that saying because it's true everywhere.
I don't want to be blind anymore. I wake up in the night
thinking - "You idiot. I mean, you're the stupidest man in the world".


You can be mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You can
swear, curse the fates, regret everything you ever did but when it
comes to the end. You have to let go.


I guess, in certain houses, 'Fairy Tales' do come true =)

Positive

2009-02-22T21:33:00.005+08:00

Fifty - two days, 11 hours, 11 minutes have passed since I parted from her, and already it is as though I had been fifty years away from her, although I can avow that not one hour has passed without her memory which has become such a close companion to my thoughts that now more than ever is it the food and sustenance of my soul; and if it should endure like this a few days more, as seems it must, I truly believe it will in every way have assumed the office of my soul, and I shall then live and thrive on the memory of her as do other men upon their souls, and I shall have no life but in this single thought.
Often I find myself recalling, and with what ease, certain words spoken to me, some in the car with the moon as witness, others at that window I shall always look upon so gladly, with all the many endearing and gracious acts I have seen the gentle lady perform--for all are dancing about my heart with a tenderness so wondrous that they inflame me with a strong desire to see her happy for the rest of her life.
I didn’t need glasses anymore...

For what it's worth

2009-02-21T11:40:00.004+08:00

For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope I can the make the best of it. And I hope to see things that startle myself. I hope I can feel things I never felt before. I hope I'll meet people with a different point of view. I hope I'll live a life that I'm proud of. If I find out myself that I'm not, I hope I'll be able to have the strength to start all over again =)

Blogging?

2009-01-31T01:21:00.004+08:00

Welcome to my first post. Seriously I haven’t done a lot of writing, this may prove to be the most difficult part. I don’t have a lot of experience, so I got to keep my first posts short. I've loads of things in my head and I'm trying to develop some momentum. Get the hang of it. Stick to what I know. I'm trying to blog something useful or perhaps —possibly even fascinating. So till then..