Thursday, August 04, 2005
memory
"all alone in the moonlight
i can smile at the old days
i was beautiful then
i remember the time i knew what happiness was
let the memory live again"
sometimes memories are all tt sustain you.
time never stands still. never stops, never pauses for man. for all the happy events, for all the sad events, no matter how we plead for the fleeting moments to stay, they always leave us.
he spoke to me late last night. talked about the elusive future. i didn't want to think about it. i don't want to think about it. i just want to sit and stare at you. watch you sleeping, listen to you breathing.
every action becomes a cliche, every thought is a song lyric. how do you comprehend tt? i don't get how my life has become run by song lyrics. but i seem powerless to stop the clockwork runnings of my mind.
how strange it is, tt on one hand i can hold your hand and contemplate a future with you. if i don't stay in the force, if i really do become a crim lawyer like subhas anandan (my legal role model), it will be interesting. we can go through scenarios like how many defendants would want to use me coz no matter how difficult their defences, if i can't push my representations through you by day, i'll be able to anyway by night. or how we can scream and yell and argue at each other and drive each other absotively posilutely bananas with our sarcastic comments by day, and well... be the exact opposite by night. it sounds like a great deal of fun to me.
but at the same time on the other hand, i know. i know of all the complications tt stand in our way. God sure has one hell of a plan for us, because everything tt can possibly go wrong externally will probably go wrong sooner or later. i'm leaving you for almost 1 year. a lot can change in tt one year. i might actually run off with some other guy. or the higher probability tt i might change my mindset, change my attitude, become the arrogant elitist attas bitch tt i pray i will never become, and lose you in the process. and even if we survive tt one year, who is to say tt we can survive the future? parental approval on my side (which i still don't know how to sell you to them) is going to be the least of my problems. my career is a fucking big consideration for me. i might say tt the money, the rank, doesn't matter tt much to me. but you and i both know how much pride i have. what my ambitions are. how much my reputation matters to me.
you asked me if i believe in us. you believe in us. yet you can't guarantee a future where you won't leave me. you know you will if the relationship hurts me. and you know as well tt i will walk out if i have to. the problem with both of us: we're just too goddamn practical for our own good. and we both know tt we never ever make promises tt we don't know we can keep.
which is why i won't promise you anything. and you don't want me to either.
i cried last night. i didn't mean to. didn't want to show the tears, esp not to you. i know you hate it when women cry coz you don't know how to act. i don't know why i suddenly became so emotional. it's not like i haven't done scenario-planning, haven't done predictions and forecasts and contemplated my future actions and decisions. but i guess for all the logic and strategy, i'm still a sentimental fool at heart.
i've realised tt my sub-conscious mind is taking on more of your traits. i'm becoming more sarcastic, if i wasn't enough. even you're worried tt i'm going to get myself shot in vancouver coz i don't keep my comments to myself (yeah. and like you don't get complained about all the fucking time coz you do). i'm starting to speak like you. i'm starting to say the phrases tt you commonly use, right down to tone and inflection. i'm picking up on your colourful vocab range, which is not going to be good coz sooner or later i'm going to let slip a "kanina bei" in front of my parents and they are so going to kill me.
speaking of which, i don't support the new paper. i know you buy them coz of the really indepth informative sports section, but i don't like how they get their news angles. like the 'sindee death trial' report. the way they angle it gives a juicy and personal swing to the whole story, but the reporters are fucking unethical. they don't really give much of a damn to sensibilities. even you tell me tt at some death case you've got reporter and cameraman hounding the next of kin of the deceased at the morgue when they're all hysterical and crying coz for god's sake someone's son is dead. at least find some other time or place to get your goddamn story.
i don't know how the world has such goddamn motherfuckers sometimes. i feel wretched when i read about the 'sindee death trial'. why someone innocent has to bear the sins of a father who deserves to have his dick sliced off. fucking bastard fucks around with some stewardess, takes $40 grand from her, and then leads her on with his horrible english till she goes absolutely bananas and kills an innocent young girl. argh. the emotional side of me wants them both in jail. in utopian civilised society, this shouldn't be happening.
but i know i know. we don't live in utopia and the world is made up of morons.
anyway right now i'm trying not to think so much about the future. primarily because it's so uncertain and so scary. all i have is the present. not just with you, but with everyone. with my parents. with my friends. with my girls.
i'm trying to preserve as many memories as i can. trying to create perfect moments to store in my mental collection. when i'm alone over there, when i'm cold and lonely late and night, i want to use them to keep me alive, to keep me going.
once i spoke to amy. i asked her how she could survive a 1 year exchange programme here in singapore, away from her friends and family, alone. she said tt she pasted photos upon photos on her hostel room wall. she'd lie in bed and stare at them sometimes. and she said tt they helped immensely.
as the day draws nearer, my apprehension increases tenfold everyday. i look forward to the fun i'll have there, the things i'll see and experience, the kind of new things i can try. but i don't want to lose them. my friends. my babes. my girls. my baby.
all i'll have are photos on my hostel room wall, and memories. when all is said and done.
3AM
- matchbox twenty
She says it's cold outside and she hands me my raincoat
She's always worried about things like that
She says it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault
And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
(chorus)
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain's gonna wash away I believe it
She's got a little bit of something, God it's better than nothing
And in her color portrait world she believes that she's got it all
She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to
And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
(chorus)
She believes that life is made up of all that you're used to
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days, and days
She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway
But outside it's stopped raining
(chorus)
now playing: hotel costes - cafe de flor
i can smile at the old days
i was beautiful then
i remember the time i knew what happiness was
let the memory live again"
sometimes memories are all tt sustain you.
time never stands still. never stops, never pauses for man. for all the happy events, for all the sad events, no matter how we plead for the fleeting moments to stay, they always leave us.
he spoke to me late last night. talked about the elusive future. i didn't want to think about it. i don't want to think about it. i just want to sit and stare at you. watch you sleeping, listen to you breathing.
every action becomes a cliche, every thought is a song lyric. how do you comprehend tt? i don't get how my life has become run by song lyrics. but i seem powerless to stop the clockwork runnings of my mind.
how strange it is, tt on one hand i can hold your hand and contemplate a future with you. if i don't stay in the force, if i really do become a crim lawyer like subhas anandan (my legal role model), it will be interesting. we can go through scenarios like how many defendants would want to use me coz no matter how difficult their defences, if i can't push my representations through you by day, i'll be able to anyway by night. or how we can scream and yell and argue at each other and drive each other absotively posilutely bananas with our sarcastic comments by day, and well... be the exact opposite by night. it sounds like a great deal of fun to me.
but at the same time on the other hand, i know. i know of all the complications tt stand in our way. God sure has one hell of a plan for us, because everything tt can possibly go wrong externally will probably go wrong sooner or later. i'm leaving you for almost 1 year. a lot can change in tt one year. i might actually run off with some other guy. or the higher probability tt i might change my mindset, change my attitude, become the arrogant elitist attas bitch tt i pray i will never become, and lose you in the process. and even if we survive tt one year, who is to say tt we can survive the future? parental approval on my side (which i still don't know how to sell you to them) is going to be the least of my problems. my career is a fucking big consideration for me. i might say tt the money, the rank, doesn't matter tt much to me. but you and i both know how much pride i have. what my ambitions are. how much my reputation matters to me.
you asked me if i believe in us. you believe in us. yet you can't guarantee a future where you won't leave me. you know you will if the relationship hurts me. and you know as well tt i will walk out if i have to. the problem with both of us: we're just too goddamn practical for our own good. and we both know tt we never ever make promises tt we don't know we can keep.
which is why i won't promise you anything. and you don't want me to either.
i cried last night. i didn't mean to. didn't want to show the tears, esp not to you. i know you hate it when women cry coz you don't know how to act. i don't know why i suddenly became so emotional. it's not like i haven't done scenario-planning, haven't done predictions and forecasts and contemplated my future actions and decisions. but i guess for all the logic and strategy, i'm still a sentimental fool at heart.
i've realised tt my sub-conscious mind is taking on more of your traits. i'm becoming more sarcastic, if i wasn't enough. even you're worried tt i'm going to get myself shot in vancouver coz i don't keep my comments to myself (yeah. and like you don't get complained about all the fucking time coz you do). i'm starting to speak like you. i'm starting to say the phrases tt you commonly use, right down to tone and inflection. i'm picking up on your colourful vocab range, which is not going to be good coz sooner or later i'm going to let slip a "kanina bei" in front of my parents and they are so going to kill me.
speaking of which, i don't support the new paper. i know you buy them coz of the really indepth informative sports section, but i don't like how they get their news angles. like the 'sindee death trial' report. the way they angle it gives a juicy and personal swing to the whole story, but the reporters are fucking unethical. they don't really give much of a damn to sensibilities. even you tell me tt at some death case you've got reporter and cameraman hounding the next of kin of the deceased at the morgue when they're all hysterical and crying coz for god's sake someone's son is dead. at least find some other time or place to get your goddamn story.
i don't know how the world has such goddamn motherfuckers sometimes. i feel wretched when i read about the 'sindee death trial'. why someone innocent has to bear the sins of a father who deserves to have his dick sliced off. fucking bastard fucks around with some stewardess, takes $40 grand from her, and then leads her on with his horrible english till she goes absolutely bananas and kills an innocent young girl. argh. the emotional side of me wants them both in jail. in utopian civilised society, this shouldn't be happening.
but i know i know. we don't live in utopia and the world is made up of morons.
anyway right now i'm trying not to think so much about the future. primarily because it's so uncertain and so scary. all i have is the present. not just with you, but with everyone. with my parents. with my friends. with my girls.
i'm trying to preserve as many memories as i can. trying to create perfect moments to store in my mental collection. when i'm alone over there, when i'm cold and lonely late and night, i want to use them to keep me alive, to keep me going.
once i spoke to amy. i asked her how she could survive a 1 year exchange programme here in singapore, away from her friends and family, alone. she said tt she pasted photos upon photos on her hostel room wall. she'd lie in bed and stare at them sometimes. and she said tt they helped immensely.
as the day draws nearer, my apprehension increases tenfold everyday. i look forward to the fun i'll have there, the things i'll see and experience, the kind of new things i can try. but i don't want to lose them. my friends. my babes. my girls. my baby.
all i'll have are photos on my hostel room wall, and memories. when all is said and done.
3AM
- matchbox twenty
She says it's cold outside and she hands me my raincoat
She's always worried about things like that
She says it's all gonna end and it might as well be my fault
And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
(chorus)
She says baby
It's 3 am I must be lonely
When she says baby
Well I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain's gonna wash away I believe it
She's got a little bit of something, God it's better than nothing
And in her color portrait world she believes that she's got it all
She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to
And she only sleeps when it's raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
(chorus)
She believes that life is made up of all that you're used to
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at three for days, and days
She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway
But outside it's stopped raining
(chorus)
# posted by Kitana @ 8/04/2005 11:37:00 PM 
