She opened up a can of worms
which they say shouldn't be entertained

manipulation

Is

I used to think that 'letting someone go' doesn't make sense. I mean, if you've carefully selected the people whom you've decided to keep close to you, then these relationships are meant to transcend all boundaries. Isn't letting go of something with so much potential not doing justice to it at all? 

Maybe i still think this way; i try to be rational about things but beneath it all i am still the same person wanting to hold onto my ideals. There is a disjunct between what i should think, and what i do think. I used 'used to think' because i do not fully believe in committing to such ideals anymore.

This morning i submitted a response paper, a review of 'the death of ivan ilych' by leo tolstoy. It asks of us to accept what is. A dying man realises it is not about the end of life, but the end of death. Death simply is. 

It simply is existence, is there a need to live up to ideals we create when everything will eventually crumble? The crumbling does not need to occur.

"what distinguishes great writers is their ability to tap into Humanity's collective consciousness"

- comment on goodreads, on why Leo Tolstoy is a good writer

constants and variables

don't you get it? I won't roam if there's a constant, just one, for me to hold onto. you appear to have disappeared, and they are part of my search for that constant, or to be one of the few constants in the different worlds i exist in. until then, i will be lost amongst a sea of variables. Given, certain variables tend more towards being a constant, and i appreciate that dearly even if i give the illusion that i do not. thus i will not give up the search.

you ask of me to call them constants, that i should not see them as variables, that if i make the effort to spend time then they must be of value. you ask of that because? our emotions are our reactions to things. it seems like my presence agitates you, and i can only speculate. there is no confusion between my spending time with constants, and my spending time searching for the constants. it is this distinction that makes the gap between myself and others so visible.

i would very much like to see some of them as constants as well, but there is never enough feelings of safety to do so. you see, it always boils down to ourselves, as ugly as it may seem. I want to call all these people my friends, but i don't feel enough safety to. To call someone a friend is to commit, to unconsciously set expectations, to be disappointed. I set high standards, high barriers, to protect myself from falling. Perhaps you see this as pride and you can't stand it. and perhaps it really is.

such a self-indulgent post. i just needed to get this out. now that the purging is done, it's time to step back and look at it another way. a view more focused on others.

We're the person we least want to be. I hate how you're so overbearing, yet..

Words most in need of being expressed are silenced by yourself. They can't hear of such

frustration. screaming.

You don't always have to rationalize your thoughts. Your body says more than you think. I observed myself dragging the luggage, eager to move forward, as though I wanted to run away from the thoughts in my head then.

the day started off with a happy, sweet tune from my friend:


Michael Buble - Everything


so I added some layers, some old favourites:


Sara Bareilles - Gravity


Ingrid Michaelson - Sort of


Ingrid Michaelson - The Way I Am


Tristan Prettyman - Glass Jar

You know, conflicted is such a good word.

I kept checking the phone that doesn't ring, reading those words over and over again, splotches of colours in shades of emotion, knowing our distance is approaching. We will be close only by relation. She asked, what is this yearning? I managed a sigh.

Why do we always spiral out of control whenever we are in each others' presence? Do I really not feel?

Soon I will have nothing and nobody left. Not on the sandy pitches nor the loose sheets.

please tell me when the end will be.

PHOENIX 1501, 15th January 2014, 

Star Theatre

/

Phoenix - Countdown (Acoustic)

You pay for emotional highs you get from the concert as much as you do for the music (both can't be stripped from the other), and as much as the highs I got was all I expected, a stripped down version of Countdown was particularly intimate. The rest of the concert exceeded my expectations, but I never expected an acoustic which allowed me to thoroughly enjoy the music instead of comparing it a set of standards in my head. Thomas Mars jumped into the audience with the guitarist (I must admit I do not know his name), the entire theatre was dark except for that single spotlight on them. He plucked the strings of guitar, a lullaby version of countdown. For the first time I could hear Tom's voice clearly and appreciated it for what it was.

The youtube video above is similar to yesterday's rendition.

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Yesterday's concert was amazing.

Phoenix is my favourite band. These days I prefer the music of Radiohead, Aerosmith, Sara Bareilles, Shibata Jun, wind bands and many many other random songs, but there is something special about phoenix. I once declared it as my favourite band and it feels like no other band can take its place because I never put my mind to giving them a label of "favourite". Or perhaps we just have favourites at different times and the labels are special even though the substance don't mean the most. The special feelings gush back in waves whenever you return to them - sometimes you wonder how many favourites can we actually own?

They were great live, in all aspects. I screamed at the first few notes of Run run run echoing in my eardrum (it is my favourite song), joined the crowd in Lizstomania (which is the Phoenix anthem, really), grooved a little awkwardly at If I Ever Feel better (because I don't know the friends I went with well at all), pretended to be the drummer for Armstice, felt a rush during a guitar duet, was surprised they played long distance call (because it wasn't in the setlist we referred to), amazed by the fiery red screen complimenting Love like a Sunset.

While they were playing my favourite songs (Run Run Run, Lizstomania, If I Ever Feel Better, Love like a sunset, Rome, 1901), I was a little caught in between recording or enjoying it live. I have a fear of losing memories - recording them down would serve as memory cues to the performance I know I wouldn't ever forget but might not easily recall, but it does take away the full enjoyment. I ended up recording the first two and the acoustic version of countdown...

-

Anyway the concert ended with a bang - they returned for three Encores. (Countdown acoustic, Rome, Entertainment). Tom jumped into the audience and walked to the back of the theatre, the long mic cord trailing behind him. The audiences passed the cord along in a straight line as he received all forms of affection from screaming, kissing, touchy fans who eventually carried him back onto the stage. Magic happened when the first guy in white jumped onto the stage and many others followed - it felt like one of those fabulous roll call scenes, with the audience part of it.

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The night was amazing, and I was amazed by the stage in general. Here are a few more:

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This semester I wish to be more articulate and honest with myself again. There is no hurry in anything, and I am glad to be in the presence of those who make me feel I can be better, with much ease and comfort. Especially in terms of writing and music.

Be of no hurry to express; those who understand that everyone takes his own time will listen at his own pace. Always offer your time: 'more of you, less of me'.

周杰倫 - 回到過去

making a photobook for my friend. this song is so apt.
well, just half of the lyrics and all of the music.

-

finally addressed what's been left unsaid on the same few steps where I got closer to my first actual friend in Tembusu. Some were done in the comforts of the space technology offered - it was a rather good closure nonetheless.

tomorrow marks the last day of my relatives' visit to singapore. This is more of a trip for my grandmother, to let her have some fun before she's too old to get on a plane.

my cousin is now in the room, sobbing about how she's afraid that times with our grandmother would not last. I am sitting calmly here, detached from the whole situation.

Being away from everyone besides my immediate family since I was two, I realised I feel little attachment to my relatives. I do not know how to care for the elderly or people beyond my immediate circle, I'm not used to family gatherings nor do I see the point in interacting with large groups of people that are not part of my life.

their visit might seem to paint a pretty picture of reunion, but honestly, this made me realise how I am incapable of extending concern to those I'm supposed to be closely related to. Having interacted with my aunt and cousin more, sending them off seemed to be a more instinctive thought.

Care is not about obligations.

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I feel like I'm given so little freedom and trust at home. There's so much about the world I wanted to explore. On the small little roadtrip, it took me so long to convince them that exploring a new area would be fine since we had a map. As reluctant and paranoid and fearful as they were, and as much as we had arguments on how there is absolutely no need for such fear, they seemed to have enjoyed the adventure (of missed turns etc). I feel that I had a little bit of control of my life for once; that if I tried hard enough to convince others of what I believed in, I could get a chance to win their trust and even let them understand where I am coming from.

I want to be able to make my own decisions. As restrictive as my parents may be, there must be a way where I can convince them of the joy of exploration and mistakes. The past years have taught me to embrace mistakes - and it is about time they did too. Perhaps it is our time to help our parents grow too.