Friday, September 30, 2005
hmm, how apt. how very soothing. listening to the same lisping sounds my dad makes when he tells a story. watching old school cartoons, eating alphabet macaroni, watching mouldy videotapes of mickey mouse's take on Valentine.
all the things i used to do, or take notice of.
i used to cycle, lots. i don't now. not as much. t'was tough, but i got the hang of it eventually. i was, what, eight? when my dad took the back two wheels off and made me learn how to. i feared falling, but the 25 yards or so of free motion, which multiplied itself sometimes disproportionately, kept me from quitting.
then i rollerbladed. nine, stupid, with full knees to fall down on. funny, but i never recalled how it was that i learnt how to blade, this came naturally, almost.
monkeybars and pullup bars were my next "in" thing. skipping a bar was admirable but skipping two earned you recognition in the field. that's how i spent my primary 4 recess, i couldn't care less about calluses. i'd sit on top of the bar chewing biscuits, just to prove i was just as good as any other boy.
what a pain in the ass i was then.
how have i changed since hmm? i can't tell, because most of my friends still treat me like a baby, too pampered and spoilt still.
tears streaming, and i wonder if i've changed or if the rest of the world has, leaving me callously behind. down the dusty road i run, back to your arms. Lights, lights and more lights.
i like Coldplay's latest single. it strikes a heartrending chord, because i once wrote a poem. god, it feels like eternity but the sweetest ache still leave their bruises under my skin. of love gained and love lost; i felt i needed darkness to turn clarity into lucidity.
so.. lights will guide me home huh..
here's my take on that:
Life is full of iridescent lights
Which enchant me
Lure me
Tempt me
Into self betrayal and jadedness
But no more
Swath a black cloth
Over my eyes
I shall not see
What the road has in store for me
I'm too young to fall
Too young to fall Again
So open up my eyes
When i'm ready to see again
And step into pure untainted light
Amidst the lights of long ago.
i like this, when memories and words and emotions coalesce, igniting a whole new experience transcending even yourself.
Goodnight world.
ps, i wish there's so much more to everything else. Joyce Lim unzipped at 11:29 PM with 2 comments
no.. i want to break through
8 hours of sleep and still i feel the lactic acid building, the eyes gorged from too much sleep but not enough rest. i feel displaced, so very very acerbic. i strive so hard to improve but the plateau always seems too near for me to hope much anyway.
Bye yan, i'm regretful with my absence of presence.
i shall rewatch movies for inspiration again. stuff of dead poet's society; that i may contribute a verse. stuff of Patch Adams; that i may love as all dark things are to be loved 'tween the shadow and the soul.
ah well, i'm just glad to be home. Joyce Lim unzipped at 10:49 AM with 0 comments
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
deadend, deadlock, impasse.
right, i should shutup, i'm ruining it. Joyce Lim unzipped at 12:40 AM with 2 comments
Saturday, September 24, 2005
for instance a friend told me he only knows how to drive from point A to B, whatever inbetween the process is redundant. for me, i remember my life as something following an alphabetical journey.
Aged six, i remember my cousin brutally throwing stones at my german shepherd. one of the little pebbles caught the tip of his eyelids and i heard him yelp. it was the first time i really felt pain for my first and faithful friend.
By nine, i'd probably seen too much blood i had to offer the nurses in my sterile hospital bed.
Cat got my tongue. i was speechlessly guilty when i told my first lie and stole two tubes of glitter glue from a regional library.
Depression a first, when a certain insignificant midget of a boyfriend broke up with me in sec three.
Elation when i found the one..
Fueling on heartaches and cheap jazz being lonely alone again.
and so on.. you get the idea.
cleared away the clutter on my sofa in my bedroom. i've forgotten what it's like to sink into its snuggled warmness. so anyway, hot milo in hand, a mouldy book in the other, dressed in an old pullover i dug from underneath piles of cloth i'm envisioning snow petals swirling by the pseudo window beside me with sleep combing through my hair.
yesterday i caught myself staring at the floor at the mrt station when i spotted an irregular shape of concentrated colour amidst the largely dull and pale coloured tiles. it was merely water. but funny how it brings such an intensity, staining a colour a deeper passion.
hrmmm, what i would give to wake up under a goose feathered quilt, wrapped up in a winter chill with hazy dreams for a pillow and coffeesmells for a bolster. Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:23 AM with 0 comments
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
i think your insanely cute. not sizzling hot kinda way but adorable puppy dog cute kinda way.
i think the way you laugh is crazy cute. everytime you laugh.
the way you laugh,
as if your embarrassed by something that was said. you'd blush and show your wide shy grin
reminds me of my dog when he ducks his head under, furrows his doe eyes
and looks at me embarrassed when his under punishment.
and i'd melt
and that way you laugh
that makes something in me tick.
i'm being emo nemo again.
oh God bless me Joyce Lim unzipped at 11:37 PM with 0 comments
how we'd all skip math lecture cause we're all smart asses
i wish we'd gathered more often for class gatherings
i wish we'd done more stuff like swimming or staying over at someone's house, playing a game of intellectual RISK, which only tongkai likes, (we did have one stayover at my punggol hse which was too little) or more makan sessions at the canteen or late supper gatherings. like the one we had looking at stars in orchard.
i wish i have something to remember each and everyone of you by
and i'd love to be your class rep all over again even though i'm an incompetent bimbo
here's goodbye to andre and khoonliat (hi himbo, if your still reading my blog faithfully), to shoes and naz.
charlene i'll kill you if you leave too but i pray u get your scholarship. you deserve it, much respect my navy officer :)
Oh god i wish we had more girly outings at west coast park
the one where i brought my dog and tied all our bags to his leash so that he would stay still and not run off.
like that really helped when another dog came.. we ended up chasing him and all our flyings bags trailing behind his waggy tail
and i remember how we played flying fox and climbed up the spider web
oh god why didn't i come to send the both of you off?
i'm glad hongy's nt leaving. and i'm half glad i'm not leaving because farewells break my heart.
and we may strive to keep some semblance of contact
but we all know things will never be the same again.
The watershed where we all grow up and leave for the paths that call out to us.
camp's disbanded,
the stars are all faded
night's gone
moon's sinking
campfire's ebbing
and all i can think of is this really old song i learnt back in the nygh sec 1 camp
mmm, i want to linger here
mmm, a little longer here
mmm, i want to linger here
with you.
Joyce Lim unzipped at 3:08 PM with 1 comments Monday, September 19, 2005
The deep breath before the plunge
Fiona making the throw
Jo in motion
touch and go
Anne
my two lovelies
i got touched, damn. and mich is surrending her hands up in the air in disbelief haha
eat my dust
again :D
Toas Team in play
byebye semis here comes finals Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:39 AM with 2 comments
Sunday, September 18, 2005
so now i feel trapped.
sigh if only i have more time to write. i'd write so much more, but it's probably better this way. tears: not now, not now.
i need a pillow now, a translator in the morning.
and my phone lingers, i'm expecting it might be you. but it never is.
two clicks
and i weep
delete, lock and abandon Joyce Lim unzipped at 6:24 PM with 0 comments
i'm only asking for a little consistency on your part. is that so hard? you, you and fucking you. your tiddle taddle, your pontification your malicious contumely and your haphazard erratic indifference.
fuck this shit.
i don't deserve this. i've been exceptionally concilliatory. it's you, always you and never me. freedom. the stuff of things,
that when talk is obligated, so
when action is demanded, go.
the right to remain in my hemisphere of moral portion without your curveballs of spiteful banter.
and you, you just don't understand the inner workings of my secrecy. you don't try.
ironical, because i try to understand yours.
god just leave me be
leave me to the songs that make and break me
the stuff of fools and legends. Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:42 AM with 0 comments
Friday, September 16, 2005
right, shall make a checklist now. studying, then gym, then a nice dinner with my emo nemo.
i have this strange longing to know the inner workings of your secrecy. i don't know why, the discrepency gets to me. Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:09 PM with 0 comments
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
but i can't write till tests and essays have been turned in, else i won't have peace of mind to create, recreate, potter and tinker around in my little garden of niceties. no handiworks till i've been freed from such unhappy obligatory burdens..
tis' a slushy operation oh boy.. Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:37 PM with 0 comments
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
sob..
but it's not that trivial to me. :( Joyce Lim unzipped at 11:51 PM with 3 comments
Monday, September 05, 2005
maybe it's because i don't have enough time to fully immerse myself into the uni literature texts, because after all, they take only 2 weeks to finish teaching one text, and it's enough to drive me raving mad by the way, that's why i don't like my texts; and that's probably why i'm struggling to understand the themes.
and exams are coming up next week....
can i just blow my demure cover now with a four letter word expletive and imagine it filling up the entire page..
this is bad.. i thought i loved lit. sigh Joyce Lim unzipped at 2:22 PM with 0 comments
Saturday, September 03, 2005
today i started over a friendship. from friend's friend to playful inamorato to new agreed acquaintances again. i think it's imperative anyway, sincerity counts more than ingenuity don't you think? so yes let's start over, i haven't exactly been myself anyway.
hmm.. studying as a resolution today has just failed judging from this. i'm about to type something so long i can't bare to think of the end. i never really articulated this but tonight i shall try..
i never wanted arts and social sciences. the goal was to read law, not to practise it. debunk my self proclaimed cliches or not it has always been a shimmer of hope ever since i was a kid. i know i know, i wanted to be other things, evangelist, pastor, doctor...etc, but i told you, i've never wanted to practise law, i just wanted to read it. by some quirk, call it an unconscious inheritance of similar wishes of the parent if you will, or failures if you must, my dad too possessed the same fancies. and here i must state with all sincerity that it was never in my intention to "follow the father's footsteps", in fact i'd only realised his own share of issues till i was mature enough to grasp it with empathy. my dad was a terrible stutter when he was young, he could only soothe his bitterness at not ever being able to be a courtroom lawyer with wins from writing compositions. he writes with exceptional clarity my dad, i never knew, and i think it a shame for him to pursue a degree in engineering when he clearly was so much impassioned for something else. i don't want to be a lawyer. i don't i don't. but make me explain why every fibre of my being has deluded myself into believing this is it. this is what i want to study, my singular hope and aim in every single pathetic exam i took since primary school. make me remember the first time i realised it.. i can't. make me explain.. i can't. how can you explain how and when something has been birthed inside you from the very beginning.
this sounds strangely reminiscient of a long lost love. the usual good beginnings, the usual deteriorating processes, the usual disillusioned ends.
and that being said, i admit it is my own failings for being unable to gain entrance to law at NUS. but is it wrong for me to nurse resent at being accepted by overseas unis but not by my own local U? i merely find the situation morbidly ironic and bizarre. and it was no comfort when friends said i should count myself lucky at even being offered places in the UK unis. they don't realise it's so much easier to gain entrance to overseas unis, unis which would be more than happy to embezzle overseas' students' extravagant tuition fees. the only reason why most people who are there go in with stellar results is because they have managed to procure a scholarship, whereas students like me who scrape by with "Mcfate's" help are victims of Mcfate's heartless omissions.
and that being said. i don't say i deserve it. i merely feel cheated by higher divine powers. long ago my mom had told me she had dreamt in a dream that i would "read law", and my mom's dreams have prophetic functions as we came to realise a few years ago. so of course, needless to say, i questioned, i doubted, i thrashed and i spurned solitude with my Maker when things came to naught. two appeals, four scholarship applications later and i'm left with the option now of majoring in literature or political science.
how do i keep my faith in you my lord. i must endeavor still, it was you who made my whole life anew. literally. and they say you remember our dreams. and i must confess, in my now reddened eyes, that whenever i hear others' testimonies of how you, God, turned the tables and gave them back the dream they'd given up all hope of ever fulfilling, i would tear so ever gently and wonder if you hear the wretched cries i made a few months back. and i wonder if one day i could be like them, when it's my turn to share, that i would cry gratefully and smile reconditely and utter praises and assurances that your a God who stores every little faded hope and crushed tears till it's time to set them right again.
why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends.. they say. so what more can i do but pray and wait with patient fervour His unravelling of plans, and know in my heart that one day my dreams will come to pass.
and i think i've found a new song to replace the exhaustive ones. it's the kind you muse to such remnifications of the past the night sky casts its fishnet and reels you in. haul, pull, flex, lunge and haul again. and then the moon shines brighter than in the past years you could ever recall.
i won't share this song. i'm selfish when it comes to things of such sweet sweet solitude, where the whimpers of my heart can be paralysed by transient lucidity.
oh pulse pulse my heart
burn burn the flesh
i wish for greater things to
validate my existence as such and such. Joyce Lim unzipped at 7:58 PM with 0 comments
Friday, September 02, 2005
"i have something to show you on my laptop but i think you'll kill me hur hur"
whereupon i left my seat very encouragingly.. whereupon she had this photo of me doing back raises (please see previous entry "faking it").. whereupon she clicked "rotate 90 degrees" three thousand fricking times.
and i somersaulted. hoo.ray. try it. it really works.. wow. -_-
and we just had a laugh about how our passwords reflect our attitudes on life. obviously my misnomer "Princess" isn't exactly such a misnomer after all.
and i just saw my friend's msn nick. "who invented 8 am lectures?!?!?!"
and i laughed when i saw it considering his perpetually sleeping in EVERY SINGLE lecture that his been to since school started. i kid you not.
and thousands of flies are flying into my dormie now. and there's this one very big flying ant whose doing the cha cha and samba on my table.
his dead now. the poor fellow. Joyce Lim unzipped at 7:34 PM with 0 comments
so here goes:
"there's something so very utterly romantic the way the rain trickles softly down glass panels and window sills. especially when your hard at work, head bent, chewing nails, sideburns tucked neatly behind your ears while the top of your crown looks matted and roughly tousled with your other hand clutching the frizzy ends in disciplined earnestness. so it was today as i pored over lines and lines of econs that i turned to stare out of the window i was sitting beside. raindrops sailed down happily as i watched millions others spatter themselves onto the glass and smeared their fat dropsy bodies into mercurial trails and smiley faces on the other side of the glass. i put my finger onto one voluptuous rainblob and watched the little smidgen ease itself gently away from my magnetic hold, skating down to join the rest at the bottom.
i had the pang of urgency to blog. no laptop so i scribbled on a piece of paper napkin this:
"there's something so very utterly romantic
the way the rain trickles ethereally
down glass panels and window sills,
waving their flubber hands at you,
you who are oblivious to freedom and magic
beyond the looking glass"
words written on a paper napkin. how unusually cliched. but how homespun and rustic, that homey cozy huddled up state, with sugarcult and coffee melodies and lavendar fresh ovenbaked potatoes smells. a glass pane, bursting clouds and showers of fresh out of laundry raindrops.
i've been thinking about that paper napkin. maybe a waiter clearing my messy table spots the scrawling lines and becomes enchanted by this anonymous writer. or maybe it'll get thrown into the bin with the rest of the not so extraordinary napkins and the garbageman, seeing it at the top of the pile will read it unexpectedly and his eyes will crinkle while he envisions similar picturesque settings at home. or i don't know.. maybe the next occupier of my seat would keep the embellished napkin as a memento, moved in indiscernible ways by those words.
no more pipe dreams. often i get carried away and more often than not get embarrassed by my illusory dreams again.
but can i just say that it is entirely quixotic how a spontaneous pen writes on any surface it finds. the ink soaking through and through. a moment of glory and reckoning, transient no doubt, but still very very uplifting in its own special way."
-----------------------------------
i doubt i can ever capture fleeting whimsies and pen them down again like that. i need a new song for inspiration; Jamie Cullum and Bap Kennedy have overplayed their usefulness. tis true you know, inspiration precedes words, that is only if you feel the pang to imprint such floodings onto something tangible. but i think i was more struck at the curious noun that appeared; "laptop". Come to think of it, why did i even write that? No laptop to transcribe thoughts, so what? a pen and paper will do, has always been and will always be more than enough. and now that i've finally gotten apple wapple, i wonder if i've become too mechanised to the artesian form of writing, or drawing for that matter. Hey i draw k, hcjc classmates and co would probably scoff and recall my 1 minute "ugly girl" doodlings but the truth is that i can't draw cartoonic figures, i draw what i see. which can be said to be neither good nor bad, since it only accentuates the fact that i have no imagination... hmmm.. which probably means that it inhibits writing but aww i digress. shall we move on? Let's..
i think maybe i should give up blogging, after all i sound like a hypocrite after all my rantings of Disney's unpersonalised cartoons now. clinical architectonic cartoons that savage my living memory of the good ole mickey and donald days. you do know they used to draw them out right? the cartoonist's life giving artistry and hand. not the computer's unintelligent secondhand guess at colours and nuances. so i said i wanted the unbridled invention of the life-giver, not the sterile graphics of the computer designer.. and i think i want to read my writings through my all-seeing eye, and not through apple wapple's point of view, though she is still magnificently fantabulously chio. but that being said, yeah, i'd like to see myself carry my note-book around with me all the time, so that if by a turn of serendipity, lush green gates open such creativity, i can reach for my trusty pen and paper and not for the aberrant wheeling of the mouse.
i like to see my words tinged with hues of scrambled colour, individualistic idiosyncrasies and my illegible scribbling. then i can really say that they are, indeed, finally, mine; just purely mine. Joyce Lim unzipped at 4:48 PM with 0 comments
Thursday, September 01, 2005
this wasn't a SINGING LESSON, the instructor boomed.
this is a singing TECHNIQUES lesson. and so he says we have to work out certain neglected muscles of our celluoid to properly train our voice.
First up.. how to control the lower ab muscles.
1st step: Starting position. butt glued to chair, hands clawing the chair in case you fall off, back leaned backwards and feet raised approximately 1mm off the floor.
LEGS UP
note to self: remember to look like it's very tiring
now for the back muscles closest to the butt crack.
GET INTO STARTING POSITION..
KNEES BENT, BACK STRAIGHT BUTT OUT
READY..
NOW RAISE BACK GENTLY
VERY GOOD.. now to locate the now throbbing aching abs muscles.. but to do that.. we must first locate
THE NAVAL...
now that we have located the naval, place both hands slightly below it and you've got your throbbing perspiring lower
abs muscles
NOW BREATHE in then OUT.. making sure the chest stays rigid like a teapot while the belly bellows out like a stuck pig and then sucks itself in when the air punctures out
NOW SING
yet another satisfied audience
WHOSE DA MAN!
I AM
Joyce Lim unzipped at 1:02 AM with 0 comments