Silky Heart

My Silky Love
24時間ずっと
My Silky Love
キミのこと想うたび
My Silky Love
もどかしいこの気持ち
My Silky Love
ただ溢れかえってく

スキと言えば簡単なのに
キミが前に来ちゃうと
個性(キャラ)がそびえ 私のコトを邪魔してる

いつもならば強気でイケる
そんな性格なのに
どんな頑張ってみても壁は崩せない

察して欲しい… この気持ちを
だから私は いつもキミに
大好きだよと 送る視線
最大の勇気で!

破れそうな シルクノハート
キミに逢って気づいた やっと
愛には不器用だったんだって
忘れかけた 恋の傷跡
急に疼きだしたの キュンと
いつかは私らしくスキと
言わなきゃ…今より弱くなっちゃうよ

スキと言えば楽になれるの
ホントわかってるのに
口にしたらキミが離れてしまいそう

どんな風に想ってんだろう?
キミは私のコトを
いまの距離は単に友達なんだろうな

キレイゴトかも知れないけど
傷付きたくない ただそれだけ…
なんて自分に 言い聞かせた
逃げてるだけだよね

破れそうな シルクノハート
今度、傷ついたなら きっと
二度と誰も愛せなくなっちゃう
胸に響く 裂けそうな音
記憶(カバン)の底にあるよ きっと
あの日しまい忘れたままの
ソーイングキットがどこかにあるはず…

24時間ずっと
My Silky Love
キミのこと想うたび
My Silky Love
もどかしいこの気持ち
My Silky Love
ただ溢れかえってく
My Silky Love
24時間ずっと
My Silky Love
キミのこと想うたび
My Silky Love
もどかしいこの気持ち
My Silky Love
ただ溢れかえってく

破れそうな シルクノハート
キミに逢って気づいた やっと
愛には不器用だったんだって
弱さを隠すためにわざと
強がってたとしてもきっと
いつかは私らしくスキと
キミにこの気持ちをちゃんと伝えよう...

そういう文できている...
さよなら、とらドラ! (T^T)

Being single is not a crime, it's a sentence...

A friend of mine recently lamented how annoying parents and relatives can be. And yes, its about that much dreaded question again. And relatives keep wondering why I never visit...

My parents never once bothered me with this, until recently my dad started dropping hints (or what I take as hints) by muttering that we're all kids until we get married. Hey, don't blame me for being single but at least I'm not a NEET (Not engaged in Education, Employment or Training). I'm still actively working and distracting myself with my hobby (cursing and swearing half the time too).

These folks don't seem to realise that it's not easy for us guys (and to be fair, girls too). Usually for my friend's case (his name is Paul), many people seldom see past his physical appearance, which in this case is his cerebral palsy, to see the good-natured and humorous person within. Now before I get accused of trying to sell him, I'm not (so no need to get all excited you Ping Pong). What I'm trying to put across is, it gets harder and harder for us guys nowadays.

One has to get past the appearance stage before your earning power comes into play. The guys has the ability to summon up extras like cars, expensive watches, etc to up his appeal. Sad to say I do not have such powers to conjure, I'm either not tall enough, not good looking enough or can't live up to the high expectations and earning capabilities you girls expect. I don't even have my own car or room for goodness sake. All I have is the sincerity and the willingness to sacrifice but apparently, it's not enough (It never is enough is it?). You can go for your ang-moh boyfriends without having to give me such excuses.

Come 30th April, I'll be on my own now as I sever my ties with the only dating agency I've joined. Call it jadedness or apathy. Behind every success story may be a woman but I just don't see myself there anymore. I think it's better that I try to haul myself out of the lower income bracket and enrol in a ninja school, or maybe get myself some noise cancelling earmuffs...

The writer has been trying to figure out how to plan for the holiday he so desperately craves. He has been fairly accident-proned recently, getting cuts, bruises and culminating in an injured foot today. It's surprising he hasn't broken any bones yet.

A day in the life of...

6.35am. Alarm wakes me up from my comatosed state as I drag my half-dead body up and proceeds to brush my teeth while flipping through the webpages on my PC. Then still half-awake, I hit the cold showers, dressed up, grab the bag and I'm out of the door by 7.

7.45am. Arrival at Raffles Place. Send out an sms greeting (usually unanswered) and proceed to get a packed lunch and then sit down to read the papers while waiting for bus to the ferry terminal.

9am. We reach the island as everyone slowly trudges to their respective work areas. I take some time out while waiting for the others to change and head down to the beach to do some combing. Anything interesting is collected and placed in my bag.

9.30am. We arrive at the farm where we begin our daily work routine. Boss would have messaged me 5 to 10 minutes earlier with some things that need to be done. Sit down drink some tea/coffee while giving a briefing to the guys and then its off to work.

10.30am. a) Get slapped by a 5kg fish, b) Get poked by fish spines or c) Get cuts on the hands trying to pull up the net/ropes. (The hazards, all in a days work). If we're lucky, the dolphins come by for a visit.

12pm. Hopefully work is more or less done as we break for lunch. Finish up some data recording before I hope on the boat around 1pm and head to the island to shower up. My cats (about 4 to 5 of them, and increasing) will crowd around me as I take a brief respite and play with them.

1.30pm. I plonk myself down at my desk, startup the computer and make my cup of coffee. The stuff collected from this morning goes onto my desktop "museum" as I make myself comfortable before the discomfort begins. Starting with the emails...

3pm. Battle starts with the advance of the Z monster, in spite of the caffeine. Either 1) I go take a walk or b) I go read the news at BBC/CNA.

5pm. Still smarting from the torture of sleep-deprivation, hit the kill switch of the computer and lumbers down to the jetty. The commuting time takes more than 2 hrs before I hit home. Along the way, curse and swear at the stupid drivers.

7.30pm. Hit the showers (again), sit down for dinner before parking myself in front of my computer, going through emails, some FB stuff, watch shows or just read comic while I wait (with futile written all over it) for someone to come online.

12mn. Reluctantly go off and pack up for tomorrow. Wash up and head to bed.

The writer is currently suffering from PMS (Pre-Monday Syndrome you idiots, not the other PMS) and depression. Over what? Saturday's poor match compounding the generally lousy feel since the beginning of the year.

Hollywood has ruined everything

The movies have ruined everything. From childhood memories to historical events. From great shows they decended to mediocre adaptations and worse still, pathetic extensions known as Part 2.

Now the original Ring (Ringu in its orginal name) was a great horror show. It scared the beejeesus out of me (made me stayed away from dark rooms with TVs in them for a month or so) and I think it also made my sister blame me for her nightmares. Surprisingly, the subsequent installations may not have reached that height but they were decent in closing off the loops in the original. The horror came when Hollywood burst in, took over the show and cast everything in their Westernised form. The silent horror became the usual run-of-mill person draped in white sheets and sporting hair that just came out of the showers and then trying to sound eerie while giving supposed warnings while to the tune of "high tension" background music. That is of course accompanied by the constant screamings, as if to remind you what you should be doing. Yawn. And that is just me understating it.

Now almost every chinese or historian worth their weight in salt knows of the period of the Three Kingdoms era in ancient China. The heroes of the era are well known, particularly those of the Kingdom of Shu-Han. Now they've decided to do a large-scale movie of the infamous Battle of Red Cliff. Which was fine and dandy given the use of special effects to make the battle more grandious than it can ever be filmed (without actually burning down the set, or a hole in the producers' pockets). Now here's my beef. What does a one minute sex scene got to do with this significant event? Or the fact that they had to change the storyline just to make everything gel (The long dead people didn't have to wield majestic-looking swords or engage in great drama to make everything the way they were). Shu-Han's leader, Liu Bei, was reknown for being a man of virtue and they had to make him out to look like a coward running for his life. All because they thought it was a more dramatic way of making the ruse look more plausible. Warrior princess, Sun Shang Xiang, suddenly became a spy in the Cao-Wei encampment (falling in "love" with an enemy bumpkin in the meantime too). The great tactician, Zhuge Liang, became a clown. What's the go? Quit twisting my history just to suit your Western fantasies.

Now most guys my age would know about names like "Street Fighter"and "Dragon ball". Full of violence, heroics, supernatural powers (and some bits of minor soft-porn). All these that is enough to make boys drool and satisfy raging hormones. Then the movies came along. Along with that, all the childhood fantasies went down the drain as well. Typical western stereotypes filled the air in the original SF movie. Now they've gone a bit further by twisting the characters of DB. The characters suddenly got American citizenship and the dirty-minded Tortise-sage became a normal wise-cracking old man (oh why Mr Chow? You were too good an actor for such ridiculous roles). Now quit butchering my childhood memories too!

Amazing I tell you. I think every Chinese nationals or others who's been trying to gain US citizenship using Singapore as a stepping board should take note of this pertinent fact. Try getting superpowers, be tormented by mean-spirits and most importantly, get adapted into a highly successful movie. Hollywood will get you your citizenship faster than their banks can cheat you of your money.

The writer has decided to boycott Hollywood movies, or those made for Western audiences in mind. He wishes to elaborate that not all movies are bad. He particularly enjoyed the LOTR trilogy and some selected action-adventure films as well.

Chemistry of time

It may have passed unnoticed but I had been keeping a rather low profile lately and have not been writing as much as I should. Let's just say I felt like threading on thin ice and whatever I write might end up boomeranging back at me.

What I ended up with right now is a whole bunch of thoughts and feelings stuck in the bottle. They have been in there, mixing and reacting with each other so much that one can no longer tell what is in there and if the stuff can kill. So here I am, having spent some time to sort through them, applying it through a gradient centrifuge, PCR and the lot. Not surprisingly, a whole chunk of it was contaminated by the highly volatile component called grief, some shots of anger, a small portion of apathy and boredom, a virtually undetectable amount of happiness and that ever present minute amount of hope.

Ok, first up. Let us get one thing clear: this is not going to go the "emo" route (not that I want any of my posts to go that way anyway). Next, note the reserved rights I hold for my writing (so play nice and be fair). These logs are offering you a window into my world. The least you could do is not abuse this privilege.

Now it's easy to just chuck the grief away and deal with the rest right? Sorry. That's not the way I do things. We all know where it comes from. Being shunned, getting spiteful vibes and generally treated like an outcast. You'll be seeing me in a hazmat suit quite often. That stuff makes nuclear waste seem like a pile of dog poo, that's how difficult it is to deal with and I don't want the IAEA breathing down my neck for illegal disposal of such hazardous material. Just have to deal with the slow decay through it's eccentric half-life.

The anger component generally comes from the everyday frustrations, from work (imbeciles...) , commuting to and from work (bloody imbeciles...) and irritating people around me (you'll be surprised at how many there are). Pretty explosive component but it evaporates naturally with time so no worries over that.

The apathy and boredom you can understand when you just don't feel like doing, thinking or feeling anything at all (I could use more of that apathy). Now, one wonders where I got things right to have captured that minute amount of happiness? Thinking hard, I suppose it's when the stuff you've ordered arrived, finding something extraordinary in what seemed like a pile of debris, talking to someone you haven't talked to for a while...

Now, hope. So inert and pure, just like gold. Precious and incorruptible. Though the amount is small, I cannot seem to find any means to increase it's mass nor find the heart to lose it. Looking out there right now, it seems like everyone could use alot more of it these days. I know I could.

The writer tried visiting the local pawn shop to try to capitalise on the rising ore prices, only to discover that there is neither a market for hope nor a value to it.