Notre-Dame de Paris.

15th of April 2019, Notre-Dame de Paris burns. Didn't think that a scene from a Disney movie would play out in real life.

I lament the incident, the damage that the cathedral suffered, the roof and spire, dating back to the 14th century, a glimpse into our past... True, things can be restored, but it won't quite be the same.

Tragic as it may be, I also ponder why a building, a lifeless entity, can evoke such strong reactions from the people, myself included. What essence does this place hold that I should weep for her? Am I taken by the works of men that I should forget that the church is a people, not a place?

Nevertheless, I am a sucker for historical buildings... I had hoped that I would get the opportunity to visit it in the near future. I suppose I won't get to see its original glory.

Yet I believe I could find joy in its new form, the symbol of resilience and revival.

Until then.

Recent lamentations.

Stay The Night

It's not a new song, although the emotions it evokes feel just as fresh. 2012 doesn't feel that long ago, really, yet to put it in perspective, it's been 7 years.

So what does the song remind me of?

The final month with her, reckless abandon and all.

It's not quite the same kind of melancholy as compared to the initial months post break-up, but it nonetheless toys with my recent doubts pertaining to the whole US studies endeavour.

Just simply hinging on this doubt was enough to trigger a whole host of buried ambivalent thoughts about that final month, the madness of it all.

Yet the song captures that bittersweet experience with simple words.

Music, a double-edged sword.

Alas.

...

Terrorism in New Zealand

The mosque shooting in Christchurch.

'Tis madness, a senseless agenda with a tragic ending.

I lament for the lives lost. A man greeting "Salam brother" to another with open arms, only to be shot... It's just... Tragic.

This doesn't affect me directly, yet it pains me that someone can be so full of hate to see sense in murder.

Alas.

Postings from Airports

Sky Harbor:

Contemplation on my recent melancholy

As I write this entry, I await for my turn to board my flight to Houston. I'll be going to visit my uncle who lives there for the spring break weekend, he has insisted I drop by a few times now, and I'm finally acting on that invitation.

There will be one important conversation to be had during that trip. I may need to ask for a loan from him to continue my studies here beyond my second year.

I'm beginning to feel the doubts creep in, the anxiety that encroaches around my decision to come to the U.S. in the first place, and the issue of face (which admittedly is a little petty, but it is never a pleasant thing to ask so much of someone with no certainty that I can repay them, at least not as soon as I'd have liked).

It all ties back to her, more than I'd like to admit. I had thought that my resolve to continue my studies despite the break up was at this point steadfast and self-sufficient.

If my recent moodiness is any indicator, I may be mistaken. Somehow whenever I fall into my brooding episodes, she suddenly comes to the forefront of my thoughts, and I'd think to myself all over again, 'you messed up big time. Got yourself into a huge student debt and you're not even sure if you're doing it for yourself... Will your interest in the subject alone carry you through this? Even if you ace this, are the odds in your favour that you'd get a good gig here long-term?'

And the cacophony of ill thoughts will persist from there, cascading down the endless abyss of my despair.

Hopefully my future is brighter than my thoughts.

...

George Bush International:

A reflection after rest and respite

Now I write while awaiting for my flight back to Phoenix, thought I'd pen down some reflections after what was a thoroughly enjoyable holiday in Houston with my uncle and aunt.

To say the least, I didn't even realise how much I'd get out of these few days of recreation, my uncle saw to it that I'd get the most out of my few days of visit despite his gout in his right ankle.

The highlights of the trip were definitely my visits to the Johnson Space Center (NASA) and Houston Museum of Natural Science, a treat to the childlike part of my curiosity for space exploration and dinosaurs. Oh, and I definitely can't miss out on mentioning how the food here is great! BBQ, Tex-Mex, Dim Sum, and Phở, to name a few.

It is with a heavy heart that I leave this place. So much left to see, I'll definitely want to make another trip in the near future, maybe I'll get to meet my cousin and his family the next time around.

Of course, I'll have to mention the one solemn aspect of the trip. I finally had the discussion of the loan with my uncle. He was definitely very gracious about the whole discussion, but the reality is that I am still asking a lot out of it.

I guess in the end, I really want to talk to someone about this. The burden that comes with this endeavour, the underlying complicated feelings I have coming from how this whole undertaking is related to my previous relationship, even despite the amount of work that I've put into detaching myself from it... The worries and anxiety about this whole episode in my life.

Ah well, we'll see.

In the mean time, I am content for now. 'Twas a good rest.

Here's to more good times ahead.

Grey skies, dull thoughts, pensive week.

Robbery

It's always a dreadful feeling, getting news of a loved one getting hurt. My mum was robbed yesterday, someone snatched her bag, and she took a fall. Thankfully her wounds aren't severe, a little shaken was she, but I don't doubt she'll weather through it soon enough. Good thing too that my father and sister were with her soon after the incident.

The news did make me realise how unprepared I was in receiving it. My heart sank, thoughts about how removed I am from the situation just made me frustrated. My mum was hurt, and I can't be there for her...

This time she got out fine for the most part, but what if something happens next time? It's a terrible thought, but sobering all the same, realising that I'm so far away from family right now, all I can do is hope that nothing worse happens from now, not at least until I get to see them again... Alas.

...

Rainy Thursday

The best way to get me moody? Let it rain.

I hate the rain. There aren't a lot of things in this world that elicits that word from me. Yet, I hate the rain.

Ironic, since I was raised in the tropics, a rain-forest country. But, I still hate the rain.

To top it off, there exists a period of time where I tolerated the rain, even thought it charming, for the sake of someone I once held dear, since she adored the rain. Well, she left me. So need I say more about the fact that I hate the rain evermore so? Well, I hate the rain.

Now that we've established my passionate disdain to the little droplets in the sky, allow me to report that it has been raining the whole day. Here... In the desert... Where it's suppose to be dry and arid... Not to mention hot? Don't even get me started on the cold temperatures, spring is long overdue yet we're still stuck with winter chills.

Alas.

...

Pensive thoughts

I suppose the combination of the above few occurrences, paired with a rather lukewarm service at BP earlier today, has made me rather pensive again.

Slow service, yet I made so many small mistakes here and there. I'm starting to feel the inadequacy again, the same feeling I had when I was working back in the studio.

Am I being overly sensitive? Insecure? Or am I genuinely incompetent? Either reasons are equally unpleasant.

I've been ruminating on her again, at least indirectly. This whole endeavour coming here to the US to study, can sometimes be an overwhelming thought. Did I make the wise choice by coming here? Was it impulse? Much that I'd like to pin the blame on my past lover for a decision I made, it's not that simple, nor is it any fair to think like that.

Yet, there exist this mild resentment I guess, this slight curiosity in my mind where I imagine an alternate reality where I never left home.

Would I have been happier had I stayed? I'm actually not sure. Come to think of it, I wouldn't have been happy either way. Though not incurring a debt would've been nice, then again, I'd have probably felt stagnated in life back home.

Huge risk, huge pay-off I guess. Might as well find a reason to be happy now. Wish me luck.

...

A Batu Pahat boy's brave journey

There was a boy from Batu Pahat. His family wasn't wealthy, but they got by decently enough. He grew up with a lofty aspiration towards the start of his life as a young adult, right around the 80's. He wanted to study in the U.S..

His family opposed, they couldn't possibly afford the endeavour. He took a leap of faith, he promised that he'll manage by pulling his own bootstraps.

And so he went, to a town in Utah to begin his journey. Studying as a foreign student in the heart of the U.S. was already a challenge in those days. But the young man needed to do more if wanted to continue his study, he began waiting at a restaurant.

Gruelling hours, difficult tasks, high expectations, yet menial wages. Nevertheless, he began to thrive, outperforming all his colleagues. 8 plates on one hand, 3 cups on the other, he was an efficient machine during the peak hours. Even during down time, he eventually became one of the fastest wrapper of dumplings.

While all that was happening, his home life was anything but glamorous. Outings for dinner were minimal, and while I'm not entirely sure, I would wager that he sacrificed much in his own social life. Even meals at home were bare basics. A loaf of bread nearing expiry to last most weeks, with nothing but a bottle of chilli sauce as his spread. He did all these things without uttering a word to his family regarding the hardship, for fear of worrying them, and it went on that way till his graduation.

This is the story of my current boss' brother. I'm here retelling his tale because I wanted to ruminate on the implications and parallels to my own experiences.

Suffice to say, his story made me feel like I'm not doing enough to strive for excellence. I came here with generally favourable conditions, I have relatives here, a safety net in terms of financing, and even a loan. He came over here with nothing but his will...

Am I doing enough? I'm not sure...

...

Kind gestures

To end this seemingly gloomy entry, I suppose I'd like to highlight two recent cheerier occurrences.

For one, an elderly couple that I had the pleasure to be acquainted with at English Corner offered to treat me to the musical "Wicked" that is coming up in April. I've been meaning to save up for the show, and I briefly mentioned about it to them in some of our past conversations. Needless to say I am pleasantly surprised by the gesture.

For another, I was chosen as the member of the month for the Music Therapy Students Organization. Again, it's something I didn't expect, but I guess a small acknowledgement from them does help lift my spirits of late.

I guess that's it for this week's entry. Until then.

Postings from ASU's Music Library.

A continuation of my collection of individual narratives from the past week or so. I suspect this will be a regular format I'll use from now on.

...

Parental wounds

Ever heard of attachment theory? It posits that the upbringing of an individual can be significant in shaping their adult experiences and the way they behave. Sure, people intuitively know that to be true, but far too often, they don't spend the time to address the small issues until it's too late, and their behaviour becomes destructive.

I contemplate my own upbringing. It wasn't particularly traumatic by any stretch of the imagination, and I find that my parental relations are, for the most part, in a healthy place.

With that said, I am now living with my uncle and aunt, and they are very much functioning as my adoptive parents, since I'm not fully independent as of now, relying on their generosity in hosting me while I conduct my studies in the US.

The dynamic between myself and them is an interesting one to say the least. With my uncle, it's actually not bad at all. It's my interaction with my aunt that does give rise to a sense of anxiety.

It's not particularly bad, but it's just there, a little bit more work to navigate through, that's all. I suppose I'll elaborate in my next narrative chunk.

...

When your mum is your aunt

You may think the title refers to my current situation. Well, in a way it is an indirect reference, but I'm actually thinking more about the (now probably archaic) Chinese family habit of raising one's children to refer to themselves not as parent, but as uncle and aunt.

Apparently the purpose of this practice is to create a deliberate distance between child and parent, the rationale behind being that many Chinese families in the past see affection and attachment as an impractical aspect to the family dynamic, where duty and hierarchy are more important. Of course, by our modern understanding of parenthood, this could be seen as quite counter-intuitive, and somewhat cruel.

Personally, I'm not quite on board with said approach, yet it is what it is, and it had its place in a world that was recovering from WWII. Thankfully nowadays, most families don't practice this anymore, but the remnants of said habit is still present in the older generation.

In fact, the whole reason why I thought about it is because the lady owner of the Malaysian restaurant that I'm currently helping out still refers to her mum as aunt. Actually, my father and his siblings used to refer to my grandma as their aunt as well, and it only changed in recent years when my grandma mellowed down and decided to connect with her kids on a more emotional level.

...

Mild tensions

On a somewhat related note, my aunt whom I'm currently staying with also came from a family that did the above. And to my limited understanding, her relationship with her own mother is lukewarm at best.

I guess that's why I'm feeling a bit of tension between myself and her. Here's the thing, I don't doubt that she has the best intentions, yet there were several instances where I felt put down, at least in the spur of the moment, and needing to put in the work to ruminate and try to understand why my aunt does what she does.

To elaborate, she can be quite nit-picky about the way I do things, and many times, the plans, the ideas I have, whatever I put on the table to discuss over dinner, is often met with critical questions and suggestions laced with a hint of condescension.

Now here's the thing. I understand the intention, I understand that it is a result of her own upbringing, and with some effort, I appreciate it. But all the same, it requires effort to internalise and understand that this is her way of expressing her concern, affection even.

Nonetheless, in the spur of the moment when it happens, it can feel quite disconcerting. And frankly, it can weigh down on me during bad days, and sometimes it triggers my shame, which I am recently realising is the main area of my struggle in terms of parental wounding, of which the details I've yet to properly hash out yet. I guess in due time, I will find a way to navigate this.

...

Phoenix Zoo

I guess to segue this post, I want to write about some totally unrelated happenings to all the previous posts, more or less of a lighter nature.

I went to the zoo the past weekend, and it was fun a refreshing to say the least. I went with ASU English Corner, with the people I've been meeting for the past few months, and getting to have interesting conversations with them.


...

Redeeming service

And after the fact, I went on to finish the day at the Malaysian restaurant, helping out the evening service. After last week's unsavoury experience, it was kind of nice to finish the evening strong with not too many complains or hiccups.

Being a little self-critical in saying this, but I thought it wasn't a very busy evening. With that said, the fact that I managed it well did still nurse a bit of the shame from last week's blunder.

If I may end on a rumination, I wonder how fair am I being towards myself. I messed up one table last week, but am I ignoring all the other tables that enjoyed my service? I ask this question with full of doubt, because it is all too easy to be dismissive towards my good performance, and just be utterly consumed by that one mistake. Seems like I can only be satisfied if I get through the evening without even a single issue, preferably if it were a busy evening.

Signs of being an unhealthy perfectionist? Perhaps.

...

Sk8er Boy?

Too Zongxu, trying to learn how to ride a skateboard. Who would've thought?

As it is, I got myself a used longboard, supposedly one of the easier variant among skateboard types for a beginner to learn.

Hoping to use it eventually in my campus commute, given the distance I seem to be covering on average. A bicycle would be too bulky, and a kick scooter would be a little pricey.

Not to mention I lucked out on this longboard, got it at a pretty cheap price, and it turns out the board model itself is a pretty popular one, regularly being recommended for beginners, at least according to the skateboarding online community.

First ride over the weekend wasn't easy. I knew to expect that it will take some time to acquire the skills to ride one of these, but what I didn't expect is how physically demanding it can get just to stay balanced, I could feel my core muscles becoming sore by the end of the practice ride. Ah well, hopefully I won't take too long to get the basics down and start using it.

Valentines Haiku.

Well who would've thought that having an English composition class session dedicated to valentines day would happen to me? Ah well, we're suppose to prepare something, so I thought I'd try my hand in some haiku.

Poetry's not my strength,
words and rhymes are such a chore.
Please cheer my attempt.

'Tis Valentine's day,
chocolates, kisses, and couples.
All lovely things, you'd say.

Not for me at all,
I would prefer a buffet,
where the fee is small.

I may go solo,
But buffet's still a good choice,
even for a duo.

Hear me out on this,
picture yourselves at the date,
happy, full of bliss.

But also famished,
that's when your love leans in close.
You'd think for a kiss

A peck on your lips?
Alas, you' have been deceived!
They wanted your chips.

But rejoice my friends,
For this is an all-you-can-eat!
Munch-on till the end.

So, my toast to thee,
To the couples, do have fun.
To the rest, I'm free.

One bad service, one angry table.

Dear no one,

How are you? Once again I seek your ever patient self to lend me an ear, hear out my troubles for the time being, since I have naught a person to shed my frustrations on.

One specific instruction, one caveat that was simple enough to understand. I was to make sure their meal was vegetarian.

Service was busy, we had a table of ten people occupy the centre of the restaurant at that time. That table put a choke hold in the kitchen cue.

Roti canai, and a vegetarian fried rice. What could go wrong?

Well, curry that came with the roti canai has chicken in it.

Stupid mistake. Amateur. Stupid...

Customer was pissed.

Long wait didn't help at all.

Customer became more pissed...

Should have asked the kitchen, double checked the contents... Should have warned them that the meal will take a while.... Should have kept them posted, be more apologetic, more transparent...

Ah well, I guess 'tis the rite of passage, helping out in hospitality and services.

Alas.

Postings from the basement of a library.

A continuation of disparate stories from my past week...

...

A pleasant dream of sorts

I felt that silly grin of mine even if it were just a fragment of my fantasy. There I was, seemingly comfortable, at ease, and pleased.

I saw her across the counter, somehow we were hanging out in a kitchen...

Why am I so delighted to see her? I cannot know for sure... Call it a crush, an infatuation... All I know is my heart melted the moment she smiled... That wordless smile... Just as I told her how I thought she was oh so pretty.

It all faded to dust soon after. Glad was I nevertheless, once it ended there, to simply be a vignette of a sweet moment that never happened...

Perhaps not yet anyway.

(Fingers crossed)

...

Gastronomical sadness

I recall in the days of my youth of a certain man I quite certainly admired. Anthony Bourdain, explorer of food and culture (and everything in between).

Of course, after I went to college, I stopped watching his shows for a time. His passing just around the middle of last year was an unpleasant surprise to say the least, but I haven't truly sat with the sadness, perhaps because of my ongoing struggles at that time, what with the break-up and moving to the U.S..

The grieve is finally setting in I guess. Recent viewings of his "Parts Unknown" stirred up fond memories of my younger years. Innocence and joy, watching him eat and drink. After all, he was instrumental in making me appreciate newness and novelty, especially with regards to food.

And now, with the benefit of age and wisdom, I realise that beyond those things, he made me appreciate narratives, stories... Perspectives that he witnessed during his travels, he shared with me generously.

That makes the lost all the more despairing for me.

...

Knitting or crocheting?

I have a growing fascination for scarves. Truthfully, I didn't think that they'd be so effective at heat retention, until I started using one. Bonus points for lightening up my usually dull wardrobe.

Impulse has led me to want to make my next scarf. But I can't quite decide, should I knit, or should I crochet? Small difference to most people, but for me, it is somewhat a small investment at the end of the day, so I'll have to think it through. But oh well, more scarves for me eventually.

...

The quarter-life existential dread

And of course, I've inevitably reached the point of my musings where I need to brood.

You know, despite being in a generally cheery and fortunate place right now, being able to have another shot at studies and all, I feel the impeding crash that is this debt I'm incurring. Add to that the nagging of my age amidst the young blood that surrounds me.

I feel detached in a sense, no longer possessing the enthusiasm and innocence of that demographic, yet not truly self-sufficient as one would expect of someone at my age.

I don't admit it much, but I am worried, feeling somewhat worthless in this state of limbo.

Alas.

...

Contemplation on plights and delights.

Narratives. It has been a bit of a focal point for me recently. Its significance, its influences, what its manifestation is like in my life of late...

There are quite a few to write of given the past week or so, so for this post I thought I'd break it down to individual stories and commentaries.

...

Weddings and marriages, left and right

Had I never left Malaysia, I would have and would be attending at least 4 different weddings by the end of 2019.

Friends are settling down, peers that were once clueless about the future are now certain they want to settle down with someone for life...

I admit, I've a tinge of envy about them. Yet for the most part, I am glad for them. In a way, I feel a certain comfort in knowing that there are people out there, friends of mine to be exact, that were able to find it in themselves to settle down. That gives me hope for my own.

...

Drummer with an identity crisis

A Japanese drummer, raised in Malaysia, studied in the US and found his calling there... Only to be confronted with the end of his OPT nearing. Without a Visa renewal, his only choice might be to return to Japan.

I just described a friend I knew from my ICOM days. We weren't close, but he recently opened-up on facebook in a rather candid manner regarding his anxieties and fears, quite unexpected given his usually stoic and bold character, which I admired to a degree. You can imagine the predicament, given how he's not spent much time in Japan, yet that is suppose to be his home country.

I suppose it resonated with me in that moment when I read his writings, to realise that even the best of us (and I definitely saw him as a man of many great talents) have hidden troubles.

May he achieve his hopes and dreams, and failing that, find the courage to accept what's ahead of him.

...

Estranged lovers

They were sweet, sweet while they lasted. I think it was close to 3 and a half years together? I was close to the guy, and I heard him pour his heart out some after the break-up, we shared our frustrations with each other, since I went through some of the same around the same time.

Recently though, she opened-up on facebook, shed a bit of light on her side of the story. Hints of mind games, emotional abuse, unsavoury things. Polite as she was about it, the added perspective is unsettling, especially being a friend of his.

That got me thinking... What of my own ex? What's her narrative about me now that we're apart? Should I be worried? I was fairly certain I didn't overstep boundaries... Yet that is only my perspective...

Sobering up to that possibility though, might be one of the reasons why I'm keener than ever to move on, to renew my perspectives...

May they find peace in each other eventually, as do I with my own ex.

...

Twisted dreams and beautiful nightmares

In other news, odd as it is, I have recent recurring dreams about my ex. Once a week for the past 3 weeks or so. Some are more pleasant than others, but they all left me wanting and upset once I awake. All in all, not very enjoyable.

That makes me wonder though... Why?

Impatient as I am in wanting to move on, it seems like I think of her still. Alas, still some work left to be done.

...

Death of a founder

I suppose the fitting end to a post that started with marriages is death (my little nod to Shakespeare, if you will).

Tom Shrader passed away on the 13th of January 2019. His legacy is one Redemption Church, along with the countless lives he had influenced during his time on earth.

Truth is I barely know the man, having never formally met him nor heard him preach since the time I arrived here. He was battling with cancer then, so who can fault him?

Yet the stories that poured in from people all around the state, even country, speaks of a man who served and sacrificed.

Inspiring, daunting... Will I ever reach those heights of generosity and good will? Perhaps one day.

For now, let me lament this passing, for even though I knew him only a little, I cannot ignore his works, and the testimonies of his people.

Lovecraftian nightmares and contemplations about the hearth.

(And) I think, now, we can safely say we've lost the hearth - Stephen Fry

I can't recall the last time I had a dream like that. Actually, 'tis more accurate it be called a nightmare. There I was running for dear life in a mall of shadows, the darkness hiding a beast whose form was not known to me, and to know is to be overcome with madness and death (classic Lovecraft).

Yet things took a bizarre turn when I had to defend myself and my friends in a finale of sorts... By playing a video game match, and each time we lost, the beast cometh to consume one of us. And I was the last one standing before I jolted awake, unwilling to behold the form of the monstrosity lest I lose my sanity, at least that's what I suspect would've happened if things played out like a Lovecraft novel.

Now here's the part that amuses me somewhat. Having studied to some degree the nature of human dreams, it's interesting to take a step back and understand that the brain doesn't generate these images with any semblance of intent to create a story. The brain simply activates neurons at random during the REM stages of sleep and synthesises a sensation based of those signals, and we the person would perceive those signals in the form of flashing images more often than not.

Dreams become what they are when we impart a narrative to them. Some people have more talent in giving their dreams meaning than others, that is why you have people who can effortlessly recall their dreams where others might struggle. I don't know this for sure, but I suspect it isn't dependent on one's ability to remember, but one's ability to ascribe a story to the chaos that they saw in their heads while asleep.

I suppose I happen to fall to the former group, as I'd usually have no problems reciting my dreams whenever they do occur.

Which interestingly made me think back to an idea I had heard from Stephen Fry regarding narratives. To paraphrase his sentiment, the practice of gathering around the hearth to tell stories is a dying art. Increasingly we see individuals within families and communities preferring solitude and shunning the dining table conversations.

In a way, what was valuable about the hearth in the past was that people tend to form ideas and narratives around things they did no understand. Of lightning and rain, sun and moon, such complexities of nature that men did not understand then. Once in a while you'd get some pretty interesting and creative interpretations of these things, hence the folk tales, the myths, the household stories, and going a bit further, of moralities and philosophies, and the eternal struggle of good and evil.

We've lost a bit of that, as people of our modern times are more eager to be fed a narrative than to construct one themselves. This becomes scary because people in power today are where they are in part because of their ability to construct powerful narratives, good and bad.

The orators of our world today wield the ideas of the public to the direction of their fancy, think Donald Trump and his commitment to telling the tale of a failing nation that needs his aid. Think Ellen DeGeneres, whose ceaseless seeking of feel-good stories in the most unexpected places is hoping to instil a sense of hope and kindness into her viewers. Think the countless vloggers of YouTube, each trying to put their stories out into the world hoping that their viewers derive some sort of meaning from them.

The power of narratives is still here, and is still ever a powerful influence. Yet people are surrendering their own voices to others without even realising.

That includes myself...

I suppose ultimately this is why I ponder these things. I prefer reticence for as long as I can remember. Yet day by day I wish to break away from the silence to develop my own voice beyond the trappings of this digital page. I wish to speak, and I wish to speak in such a way that people will listen.

This is my hope in finding that voice, that I may be able to construct meaningful and good narratives for the betterment of others.

Until then.

Calmer times, calmer thoughts.

Strange how a month can change one’s perspective. I reread the past few postings of mine and can’t help but feel at odds with its mean-spirited tone.

The disappointment is still there, true, yet I feel I’m at last at another stage of moving-on, even if it isn’t true acceptance yet.

I say that it isn’t true acceptance yet because the cost of me being in a happier state-of-mind is that I try my best not to think of you.

Yet there are moments that come by where I do think of you now, and they don’t freeze me up. I just… Sit there to behold it, let it pass. Perhaps that’s progress in of itself.

Another thing that got me thinking is the recent Facebook postings of two friends of mine. You’d know them as well, they broke up a little ahead of us. They both recently took to Facebook to air their dirty laundry. Truth be told, it’s never pleasant to observe, to be told of bad things of one and the other since my own dealings with both were anything but antagonistic.

I can’t help but wonder now… Two things specifically.

Of the first is that I wonder what would you tell people about me now. Would it be an apologetic explanation, or would you pin the fault of our parting to me? Perhaps that’s my current concern, being worried that I gave you any reason at all to feel hurt during and after our time together.

The other is how I’d describe you now… I was pondering about it the whole day today. A month ago I’d be spewing venom had anyone asked me. Yet not today…

I suppose if I had to capture my current thoughts about you, it is this…

You had many things I loved about you, and you still have all those as part of yourself… You’re intelligent, diligent, and you do have a great capacity to care for people, even if you don’t always know how to, that has always been your charm. It’s just that you did a few things to me towards the end of our run that caused this blemish that now hinders the shine of all the lovable aspects of you, to me at least…

I guess that’s how I feel for now… Some level of acceptance, but not quite there still…

With all that said, I actually don’t mind as much if you find happiness apart from me now. I say this for the first time. I don’t think I’ve genuinely felt this way. Now? Even if it’s not a complete release, at least my feelings about your departure, for want of a better way to describe it, feels alright, it feels okay.

And I hope that makes you feel okay too.

Mid-winter contemplations.

Winter solstice is around the corner no? Back home it used to mean little to me apart from the fact that it's around this time all the tang yuan (汤圆) start rolling out, but now that I'm experiencing winter proper, the prospect of nearing the middle of winter excites me.

Why? Because I can't wait for the temperature to start rising again. Oh sweet equinox, ever to me posthaste.

This year hasn't been easy to say the least, having just weather through a break-up with someone I thought would be the one for my lifetime's worth. Nay, it seems.

Yet the pain makes the little nuggets of happy moments all the sweeter, now that I'm reaching a point of acceptance.

I've been listening to this humble tune of late:

Joyful listen to say the least. Simple, straightforward, yet so abounding in optimism.

I suppose part of why I resonate with it is the realisation of how little yet precious my smiles have been of late, given the circumstances. Mind you, 'tis not any big achievements that draw out my grin, but the simple gifts of my mundane experiences that do.

The view of the morning sun, hindered by nought a cloud... The taste of sweet lemonade when I thirst... A simple song to remind me to smile o'er simple things...

Hark, here's to the cheerier times past, present, and future.

Postings from a lounge with a fireplace.

'Tis the season so they say, though thankfully nary a flake of snow drops here.

Still this fireplace is a welcomed sight, for someone such as I.

To be honest, a winter's passing in the desert isn't nearly as dreary as it sounds.

The birds chirp its usual tune, and the breeze runs through the leaves to fiddle its favourite cadenza.

And I seat here to ponder my place in this frame, this time and space.

To behold a picture that's constantly shifting; a window into the not-so still life.

To admire the simple joys of being well and alive; a door to wondrous possibilities.

The people, the streets... The bicycles, the skates...

They pass me by to tell me a hint of their individual stories.

And so I shall sit here, to ponder all, to find contentment.

All during this beautiful morn.

The seasonal revivals.

Dear No One,

Seems like this space has a tendency to draw me back every so often, for want of my thoughts and perspectives.

How has it been? 'Tis quite a while since my last posting, I admit, but you have to concede that one hardly feels the need to write to the void when one has a significant other to confide in.

Yet this has changed now, in fact it has been almost half a year since the split. But only recently did I feel the sense of catharsis, tasting a semblance of acceptance to the situation, thus I feel the want to write here once again, just as an idle fulfilment to my need of being heard.

So how fare thee, my old friend? It is strange to share my current thoughts in a space that also captured the innocence of my youth, near a decade ago. Oh the reckless abandon of an ignorant youth, 'tis all too amusing and embarrassing to behold.

I suppose you do deserve some updates from my end. Where do I begin...?

For starters, I'm doing a second undergraduate degree in Music Therapy in the US, how's that for a change? Spent a year and a half in the recording studio, made me ruminate on many things about my choices in life, and now I am in a foreign land trying to figure out the theory of the mind while manoeuvring this social and cultural maze of trying to blend in without losing myself.

Of course, the break-up initially made me relentlessly contemplative, but with each day passing, I grow less and less affected by it to be honest. Dare I say that hope seems to be returning as well.

Student life has been kind to me so far, and to be honest, I didn't even realise how much I miss learning. My only fear now is complacency, that is to make the same mistake as my previous studies, buried in the books, but lose out on the connections, the network, the people... I'm still all too tempted to stay in my shell, but this time around, I intend to try my hand in doing the tangible, at least that's the plan for now. What come may, we'll see.

Anyway, 'tis awfully nice to chat with you again, I'll  be sure not to wait too long before my next update. Take care.

Touring upon dreamscapes.

I see chains, this sad misunderstood object, oft do people shun them. A tyrant's tool, a dictator's apparatus. Oh does the world fear this symbol of slavery.

Yet I see its uses, bond upon bond does each support each to strength. They are tools, no more; the old ways have died with its previous masters.

I see chains upon a frame, is it a symbol of oppression? No, this is my instrument to liberation, a mechanical marvel with an organic touch.

And so I pull these chains through its paces, while they push me past my usual threshold. I stay in place, yet they bring me to new spaces.

Up towards the hills that I might gaze the sun set upon the valleys below. To the winding paths of yesteryear, a glimpse of many childhood memories.

Down to the slopes that I might set my eyes upon the new moon above. To the road that finally leads to my love.

I see chains, but I feel free.