My Birthday

Greetings again,
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to meeee...happy birthday to me~)

I had never really thought much about birthdays. What are they? They have always seemed to be just like most ordinary days. Thus I did not really cared much about other peoples' birthdays as well. Perhaps consequently, I seldom recieve any birthday greetings. I didn't contemplate that my friends don't send me any greetings. These all didn't really mattered to me. Thus it has always puzzled me that so many people I know regard birthdays so sacredly. And would seem to take to heart so much that others do not wish them birthdays.

But then i've always been slightly the different, introverted. I'll prefer solitude to congregation. Silent acknowledgement to open discussion. In other words, I can say now with hindsight of myself that I was, perhaps still am, quite uncomfortable with people. I never really was able to communicate, to express myself well to other people. This inability gradually developed into a habit of avoidance. And perhaps my disregard for birthdays, my and others, is a form of this habit in manifestation.

Recently, certain events have served to change my worldview. And i've made more friends, although i'm still weary of my former reservations. Changes which perhaps I shall not discuss as yet of how and why. As with the other of my birthdays, today or rather this morning I recieved a few birthday greetings. As usual I wasn't conscious of the date and they came rather as a surprise. But then this time there was a difference, I felt some intense feelings. Perhaps the feelings have always been there without my recognising it. Feelings that causes the pausing of things and halt the flow of time. I realise that with the acknowledgement of my birthday and the greetings I recieved, will come the feeling of contentment and reassurance. But what immediately follows was a rather strong bout of grieve. A grieve set about first by the fact that my birthday was ignored or forgotten by ones whom my heart dwelled most. Grieves that struck me with the realisation of how much a disappointment I had been to others who had expected at least a birthday greeting from me. Grieves of the knowledge that I still hold on to images I have of people. Perhaps outright disregard of such events is a merciful way of escape. For one so succumbing to malevolent thoughts.

But nay. All has changed. Birthdays shall be wished upon as they come. =)

~For all that I seek and know, in reverance I bare the acknowledgement~

~FLASHBACKS~ Memory Avenue: Escape to Isles Nostalgia ~Part Three

And there we stayed. A “Duties” chart was drawn up by the food committee that made all of us take turns to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for everyone. Every morning we have to take turns to wake up at 6am to make breakfast. The guys have to pull the bullock cart outside to the water pump to pump a barrel of water, this will be what we have to use for that day. As the pump is quite low to the ground and there were not any pipes for us to use, we had to first pump the water into a small bucket, then pour that into the big barrel until its full. It is quite a messy and tiring work. Then came pulling the cart back, the road was pretty bumpy and thus full barrels usually don’t stay full by the time it reaches the kitchen. Yes, so we learnt not to fill it up in the first place.

Back at the kitchen the rest of the crew will be preparing whatever was conjured up to be the breakfast of the day. Hot Milo, biscuits, butter, kaya and fruits, these are the usual stuff we get everyday. As for the kaya, apparently they don’t sell that in India. So all we had was whatever we could bring from Singapore. It is quite delightful to smell hot Milo as we gathered around the stove, awaiting some warm comfort in the chilly mornings. We would all be too sleepy and cold to talk, just sitting around staring at the big pot as steam streams above.

On some days, breakfast was provided by our facilitator and we need not wake up early to prepare it. The same sometimes also happens for lunch and dinner. This somewhat messes up the duties chart and as a result, most of the time we don’t really follow it strictly. Not that that really matters much though, as most of us were enthusiastic enough to volunteer working extra.

Around the time we have our breakfast, the rest of the school would be assembled at the field to sing their school song before being herded into the classrooms. We would sit by and watch as they performed their daily routine. Some of the children who are unable to walk were carried along the backs of their friends around the school, happy and oblivious as can be. During break time they would sit in the shaded areas of the field or corridors and play games, filling the dusty school with the lively chatter of joyful children.

After breakfast we would wait for the arrival of a small rickety 3-wheeled lorry that would ferry us to the worksite. All of us would squeeze onto its back, leaving behind just the duty group to prepare the lunch of the day. Along the way we would pass by a short stretch of road flanked by simple stalls and shops made of mostly leaves, branches and some bricks built on the soil. On display were myriads of fruits, local snacks, daily necessities and even live poultry.

Down the road lies a petrol station newly built into the ground. From here the lorry turns left to bring us down a winding road. On both sides of the road one can see the beauty of the rural countryside. Vast plains of padi fields spotted with islands of coconut trees against the clear blue sky of day. Occasionally one can spot cows grazing in the fields. Some might even venture to the roads which sometimes obstruct the traffic. The bulls would have a rope tied around their neck to one of their front limbs to prevent them from charging. No birds can be seen though, I wonder why…

~FLASHBACKS~ Memory Avenue: Escape to Isles Nostalgia ~Part Two

Then from there, we headed to a village school about 30km away. It is here that shall be our new humble abode. Initially though, this was not meant to be where we were suppose to be staying. It was originally arranged such that we stay in the village we were supposed to work in. Toilets were even specially constructed in preparation for our coming of stay. Yet, as it happens, the toilets could not be fully constructed in time. Thus, by the good graces of St Josephs College we were blissfully whizzed here to stay in two of its class rooms for the duration of the project.

When we first arrived, we had to rearrange all the tables and chairs. Dust the floors and prepare our very own makeshift kitchen. We were probably quite the distraction. Students of the school lost interest in whatever they were doing and could not help but look at us in amusement as we buzzed around the school with our activities and babbled strange foreign languages.

Allocated to us were two classrooms, one at each end of the teaching block. “Da Boyz” room was on the side nearer to the kitchen and open bathing area while “Da Ladiez” was on the side closer to the field. This later turned out to be a problem for the girls as 14 of them have had to share the use of 3 toilets for “business” uses and 1 for showering. Contrast that to the guys side that while there were only 10 males, we had the use of 5-6 cubicles and an open bathing area. Whatsmore, the ladies had to draw water from the bathing well on the guys side for use on the girls side but oh well, they had the guys to do that chore for them.

To prevent an onslaught by the national bird of India, we had to set up mosquito nets in our rooms. This proved to be a challenge; we had to figure out how to suspend 10 nets at a comfortable height above the floor. That as well as the direction we should all face when we sleep. The nets must also be easily removed when we don’t need them in the day to allow for other activities. This figured out, we would have to repeat the steps every night and morning over the course of our stay.

Then there was the kitchen, which was actually the ground floor of a building and is what seemed like a miniature hall with many benches and tables. For us were provided the use of a fridge and a stove. As well as a storeroom with which to store our cutlery, dried foods, fruits etc. For one reason or another, this room was always very warm.

Outside of this place is a large rectangular well similar to that of the bathing area where we can draw water for the washing of our cutlery. Water that was for the use of drinking and cooking however, wasn’t drawn from any of these wells. It had to be pumped from the local community pump outside of the school about 5mins walk away, beside the road and among some tall grasses of a grassy field. This water was then boiled but even so, grains of sand can still always be seen lingering in the pot. Reminiscent of where it had came from…

Inspired Moments~ Dialogue ~

There was this time I thought I'd fallen for you
But I’m not really sure if its true
Anyway, I just wanted you to know
That I'll be here for you, rain or snow

You were always there to make me feel better
Except this one time but it doesn’t really matter
What matters is that I know you'll be there
When I need someone who cares

So I’m really grateful for a friend like you
Cheering me up when I was blue
Making me laugh when I did frown
And pulling me up when I was down

If you ever feel lonely, if you ever feel blue
Read this poem cause I made it just for you
Cause you're someone special, I knew from the start
And I mean it from the bottom of my heart

I won't forget the times you helped me get to sleep
Thanks so much. You're really great and very sweet
So take care of yourself and always remember

That our friendship will last always and forever

~Sarah

How sweet yet bitter so
The word "thought" was placed blatantly cold

Anyway, I just wanted you to know

That word love is still confusing so

Of great regret I broke the trust

That you instilled on me to clear your minds' dust

Perhaps it might happen again

But pray I wont be the heartbreaking saint

Even the lord be thankful

For the kind, forgiving soul which is you

Though I’ve let you down

You still see gratefulness as sound

My words now can hardly send you

Thoughts alone jus makes me miss you

Hope this poem I wrote to reply you

Can bring back the songs and times where I can reach you

At least we can still read each others letter!

Every word you send is warm and of splendor!

So fret not my dear, if times distance become as fear

For I will always be here, Sarah’s angel, caring cavalier!

~Vincent

Did you know how your poem made me smile?

Well it made me think of you for awhile

Thought about what you mean to me

Thought about the apple that you still owe me

Wow. You're really talented, really poetic

My poems are well..kinda boring and systematic

However, every word is what I feel inside

Whether you believe me, its up to you to decide

Yeah. I agree. Love is complicated

It either makes you really happy or really frustrated

Nobody can actually figure out

What love is really all about

Please don't say that you've let me down

It's really not as bad as it sounds

I don't blame you in any way

It’s just that I felt really miserable that day

The tears I cried were not in vain

It helped me peel away the pain

So when I need somebody who cares

It heartens me to know you'll be there

~Sarah

Oh my poem made you smile?

My times never been spent more worthwhile

About that apple I’m indebted to thy?

Let’s hope its not still growing in the tree

Flattery flattery, praise shouldn’t be

Words and rhymes come because you inspire the poet in me

Each word a dedication

Forlorn for your affection

That’s the way my poems are written in representation

(Just my feelings in abbreviation)

Love and explanation

Two things that really need conciliation

Splitting of a headache

For those in infatuation

I’m glad to hear you say, you don’t blame me in anyway

But still I’m guilty about that day, where I let you wept away

Just want to let you know

I’m apologetic to this day

Tears shed in bane

Shows you've more strength that’s gained

For a life without any sorrow, is narrow and shallow

So whenever you feel hollow

Remember, you are your own hero

~Vincent

Inspired Moments~ Faraway ~

Faraway in the distance, watching through the glass, my agony.

I see your face.

Your hands, pray I so wish just to hold.

Your joy and happiness I so wish a part to be.

So faraway, the lips I have never kissed.

The warmth of your hands that I have never felt.

So faraway your smile, that was never to me.

The seeming distance which so tears apart.

Breaking my heart.

Your words that pierce so deeply in me.

Your absence so empty make my life be.

Times I've spent lying to myself.

Conversations with you on my own in my mind.

When will you be my valentine?

-Lim Yok Zuan

Inspired Moments~ Fish in a bowl ~

Fish in a bowl to where you'll go, round and round in endless bout.

As humans wondered out to space, "Whats out there? the genies face?"

Amidst the void and times displaced, what is the end of humans' race?

Ask the fish for it knows better, then to question the gaping wonders.

"Wisest art thou who knowest thou dost not know"

-Jostein Gaardner
-In memory of Sophie Amundsen
-Lim Yok Zuan

Special thanks to Averil for inspiration

~FLASHBACKS~ Memory Avenue: Escape to Isles Nostalgia ~Part One

Somewhere,
Touching down at Sri Lanka Airport we were all anxious to step out of the plane to breathe the fresh air after our long 4 hour flight. Outside the plane, our eyes peered at everything there was to see as though expecting an alien world. Alien or not, our minds were further away than our bodies were from home. Looking down to shade our eyes from the glare of the midday sun, we could feel the dryness of the air.

From the customs we headed off, shuttling to a Sri Lankan beach resort where we were supposed to spend the first foreign slumber. I tried to capture as much as I could of the world around me. Smelling the air, noticing the hawkers by the streets, gaping at the wide expanse of the sky.

Tired we were that day, travelers fatigue as so they say. I hadn’t the liveliness to explore the vicinity and we quickly retired to our beds after a short briefing. When we woke up the next morning, we were greeted by the view of numerous little fishing boats drifting in the ocean. Picture perfect as though in a painting, a panorama of tiny paper rafts sifting the sea. So long have I not felt before the earnest to get out of bed to see the world.

Breakfast was served as a buffet, but food wasn’t quite on my mind. Walking along the sands I could see a stretches of fishing villages. The breaking waves shimmering under the glow of the rising sun. We trotted down to the bustling scene of fisherman reeling in their morning catch. There, under the shy gazes of the locals we helped the people pull in their boats to the shore...

The rest of the day was spent in blissful appreciation of paradise on earth. That night we could hardly sleep. So much experiences. And anticipation for what lies ahead for us tomorrow. Flight to South India.

Emerging from the cumulonimbus clouds, greetings by an astonishing landscape of greenery. The plane landed hard on the short tarmac at an dilapidated airport that was about as big as a bus interchange. All around you could see the sky, no tall buildings marred the landscape. Rustication.

To our amusement, tractors were used to move our luggages from the plane. Resourcefulness in a land short of resources. There it was as we stared, this little tractor lugging away at the load. So out of place as it seemed to us. So out of this world we seemed to them. Amidst the curious stares, away from the airport we traveled. To the city of Tiruchirappalli.

Herein lay the spawns of humanity…

天黑黑....下雨了...下雨了~

Greetings again,
Its been a rainy rainy day. Drizzling since last night. On my way to school, hands tucked in my pockets, walking along the grassy field towards Yew Tee MRT station. The gentle tapping sound of rain drops accompany my every stride. Looking down to avoid my eyes from the falling rain I could see my own reflection in the puddles on the pavement, "me?" I thought...
Seemingly embarassed, I looked up to see the usual toil of people streaming to the station, walking briskly to avoid the pelting rain. Everyone was so quiet, eager to reach the shelter...just the sound of rain.

我走在每天必须面对的分岔路
我怀念过去单纯美好小幸福
天空很大却看不清楚 好孤独...

There was this familiar feeling, like I was somewhere else. A kind of security, heartfelt longingness. "What is this feeling? What have I forgotten?"....

~...strolling in the rain in my primary school. Behind the classroom blocks alone, I can hear everyone else...playing in the field, having singing lessons in class, laughing and chatting in the canteen....*riiinngg* back to class. Someone saw me...walk away..walk away...~

*Doors Closing*....In the MRT on the way to Jurong East. I leaned by my usual spot on the train...on the doors facing the outside of the station, where I could see the streets...the people and cars below. Under the cover of shelter, the constant bustleing noise of people chatting in the train. The beat of music from the earphones of the person in front of me...I turned away to look out the window...I tried to count the trees that zoomed passed...1..2..3...too many...drops of rain streaks the window plane, guided by the wind...

~...hiding under the teachers desk...it was dark...but I can see the light in the rest of the classroom...Friends: "what are you doing in there? why don't you come out to play?"...."teacher, he is hiding under the desk again"......Teacher: "Yokzuan..why don't you come out?".....but I like it in here...~

While waiting for the pasir ris train, I didnt felt like squeezing with the rest of the crowd at the station...so I walked to the back of the platform. I walked from one end of the station to the other. Then I saw someone I knew..."should I approach her?"...the train came. As I board the train I saw that someone was accompanying her. "Nevermind then"...I walked to the center of the carriage to avoid being spotted...

~...time to go home...I quickly packed my bag and walked out of the classroom...why did class have to end...rushing down the hallway..."hey!!..wait up!!"....I turned around..."Why are you walking so fast??"....I looked away..."I....~

Dover. I got off the train...still unspotted. Down the escalator I quickly rushed off towards my class at T4. It was still drizzling...I could still feel it...a feeling so plain...so simple...

~...cycling in circles outside kranji secondary...carefully avoiding the puddles on the floor left by the rain. oh..."hello!"...."are you waiting for someone?"...."no I..im going home....lets go home"...~

忘记...

sUffer the pAin. beCause it IS youRs.

Greetings once again,
Pressure. Stress. Depression. Mere words but to many of us many a chords of heart will strike. Sadly in this mortal world that I dwell, time is always running away from me. There is often so much to do, so little time to do them. Dreams...and the wishes...the wishes which I hold so dear to me. Brittle shatters, a shard of my soul.
Relief, like too many a sand castles sweep away with each coming tide.

Time is no mercy to the living, and the scars my father bare hold true to its testament. With each passing day my services are required more and more. A problem solved today breeds trouble for tomorrow. Always never far away, the role to play as a son as much as a student as much as a slave to my emotions. Fatigue and weariness like the tides wear away the vigour of youth. Comfort through others I seek and assurance through things I know, fleeting are both as morning dew. So tired..so tired...if just to hide and cry. Hope?

Is there a cause to blame? Many a times I question my slice of suffer pie...."why me?" I will ask. Why a cut wound draws seething blood. Why so many a questions trouble me. Why the mind bares scars that feel more than pain. Why the hands are stained with regrets that never wash away. why why why....it angers me.

So I tell myself...."Suffer the Pain...because it is Yours".

In those who suffer, who can be turned to. In relief or remorse they feel, cannot anymore. Who questions the plight of millions who starve everyday, the blight of death that plagues the wars at play. Suffer their pain they do everyday, to them its just normal june to may. Suffer my pain I must for its mine, a possession I trust can never decline.
Others I cannot wait, their sympathy I cannot rely or apathy of theirs I will have to suffice. Faces so sweet, hearts so pure, hurts to know I am not there anymore. Goodbye I demand of me, to rid the kind faces I seek of thee. Suffer the pain I have to be me, because in pain I see hopes a glimmery.

In hope I survive, to due my purpose.
I will be free.
~Live~

the Weird & wonderful

Greetings once again,
I had the weirdest revelation yesterday. Was watching this documentary on Discovery about robots...how robots are going to change everything.
Asibo, the latest bipedal robot developed by Honda actually begun its development way back in the 1980s!! Talk about planning for the future (who knws what are they up to now?). Then theres this new concept...'swarmbots' which are small simple robots that are able to communicate with each other to work together as a colony...much like ants and bees do. Simple minds which can come together to solve complex problems. To the militaries in question, this is definitely a weapon of deadly potential.
They are even developing (or actually they have developed) robots that possess not just facial expressions, but the ability to emulate human emotions. Infact, it seems that humans are pretty easily fooled into interpreting 'synthetic' emotions as 'real' emotions and react accordingly to them. While one does worry about a future of robots (think Matrix), acceptance is going to be comfortably gradual. Because, with the age of cybernetics, body parts that fail us will be replaced by man-made ones.
Most glaring to me however, as i sat there in my comfy chair thinking i've seen it all, was this experiment. They made this 'robot'. They call it the 'ratbot'. Its actually a rat...with wires and stuff dangling from it skull to a reciever strapped to its back. The rat appears healthy, not burdened nor in pain, happily running around. Yes its running around...rats run around....but this one...was remote controlled like a toycar.
The ingenuity or breakthrough was as simple as this: get a rat, look for a part of the brain that interprets pleasure, use an electrode to stimulate it whenever it follows the certain direction you want it to walk.
The researchers boasts that rather than having a totally synthetic robot that, by current standards can only run for about an hour, their 'ratbot' can remain operational for 12 hours. Are easy to produce (breed) and much..much more agile (figures...we're just riding on all those millions of years of evolution in agility). As far as the rat is concerned, its having pleasure. Ethic issues anyone?
I realised that, while ethical issues in genetic engineering (all that mix and match *poof* magic) seemed dire enough...its all coming to be rather futile. The very cogitation of identity in all and everything that we know has never before been so starkly displayed as naive. Lack of philosophical wisdom in identity? All too true.
Once again it pains me (whoever i am) the most, that a vast majority of the public are very much ignorant or apathetic or even both (i dont knw and i dont care) about this. Infectious idea? You bet. And our sacred education in all its glory isn't helping at all. Sure, you wont die if you not know...but whats the point in living without knowing what it means to live?

"curiouser and curiouser" - Alice

....blog?

Greetings,
So here i am...a blog? Never appeared in such a reality before. Interesting realm. Was listening to some tunes and feeling aloof when someone suggested that i could set up a blog account.
"May words descride my thoughts once again?" Tantalising idea...nostalgic almost..to the good old times where words flow freely. So here i am.

Like a stranger in a barren land....vagrant wonders....questions pop into my mind seeking answers..."why do i care to blog?", "what purpose and ends do i seek from such an endeavour?".
With voices in doubt, i asked myself...yes...so why...what does my mind care so much to share?

Could it be human instinct? I suppose...ideas in my mind...they are like viruses. An entity to itself that bares my brain as host, whoes sole purpose is to infect other minds. Minds with prying eyes that seek to know what i have to spare.
Ideas that appeal to the mind are kept and propagated, others are modified and disseminated or disintegrated into the abyss of forgotten nothingness. Lost information. Alas the words of a fervent believer of evolution theory.
Is the mind driven by its cortege of memory and ideas to communicate? Or does the mind communicate by necessity? Which bring about the question of 'Free will'. Ah yes...the human mind is truly perplexing to itself.

There is so much more to say...but time disallows more words to play. So now i end this blog in disarray, my ideas shall flow on yet another day.