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.

Walls.

Stay here, don't go, I implore, I ask this beaut,
its sparkle and glaze doth shimmer and shine through all.
Four walls rise high to keep my being within,
yet flutter and fly it goes beyond this hall.

Who forgot to place a roof above my head?
I squirm and weep in disdain that I should stay.
'Most surely my hopes, my dreams had left with it.'
I told my thoughts to the wind which went away.

Would it remain when its wings are feathered?
The blind would see it clear as day, not I.
These walls I built with non but hands my own,
these walls I seek to break so I might fly.

Surely this bird has sang its tune to me,
entranced by non but songs of chirps and squeaks.
Yet while I still had wings in place of arms,
I shed them and exchanged it all for bricks.

Postings from the room under the staircase.

No, I'm most fortunately not the boy-who-lived. My uninteresting life is nothing like the sorts of Harry Potter, although this week I finally have something in common with him.

Moving to Petaling Jaya, specifically Seksyen 17, proved to be quite an interesting mix bag of emotions. For one, I am yet another step ahead in my journey of self-reliance and independence. On the other, the place which I've landed in is rather, for want of a better word, challenging.

Petaling Jaya is many things. It's urban and hip, yet aged and unsurprising. Being one of the older townships in the Klang Valley area, I find myself thrown into this weird juxtaposition of the old and new. My parents, when they first ventured out of their own hometowns to take a leap of fate into the city that is Kuala Lumpur, they started out in none other than this town that is PJ. And here I am now, following in their footsteps.

Except when they first started out, PJ was still quite new...

So yes, I am now settled down in this aged room, part of a semi-detached house, whose owner is also renting out other rooms en masse. Interestingly this place is quite a community of strangers confined within, there seems to be at least 6 or 7 different tenants. And of course, I landed in the room right under the staircase. A simple room with a table, bed and cupboard, sufficiently cleaned yet old spots still abound; bare necessities, really.

I shall now wait for my letter of invitation to Hogwarts.

Or maybe Dobby can pay me a visit. I suppose a chat with a house-elf would be pleasant in this solitude that is new to me.

But gloom aside, this room does remind me of pleasant thoughts of a time before. I suppose this house with its 30 to 40 years old design reminds me fondly of both my grandparents' homes, as well as a collection of memories from my childhood visiting homes of my various relatives.

And yet it fascinates me this place that invokes such nostalgia, is also close to Jaya One, Mid Valley and the like that which you'd associate with modernity. Truly, the contrast makes me ponder.

I suppose starting out my adult life proper (with my first day job so to speak) in a place devoid of the usual creature comforts could do me a favour, that I may build my character in my time here.

So here's to a year of fruitful career development.

Rantings from the 1st floor.

They say 23 years old is the worst age to go through in one's life (although some argue that mid-life is as bad, or worse). The time where you finish your tertiary education and are most likely seeking a place in society.

Lacking experience, having outdated if not insufficient amount of knowledge in your respective fields, no colleagues or employers to network for you, only a bunch of ex-classmates who are in a similarly precarious situation like themselves; Your other friends who've decided to start work right out of secondary education seem more well off than yourself...

Yes, I speak about myself. Pardon the whine. I write to no one, yet I wish to write this down for my future reference.

Applying for a job in the music industry. Sounds as bad as auditioning for a software engineer post. May the fastest coder win the job offer.

Music: Rarely any job offers listed on paper or online, and they're mostly irrelevant to my major. Of course there's always ample of teacher posts, but I pity my hypothetical students if I do take the job; I've hardly the patience nor the talent to teach. The world doesn't owe me a job, sure. But neither do I owe the world silence from my frustration.

Alas, first class honours all for naught, nobody cares. You need to be in the right social group. You need to be thick-faced and be a people-person. Know-who, not know-what. Sure I've heard all these things way back, but it doesn't change the fact that it's frustrating.

Another e-mail ignored, time to move on.

Pardon the rant.

Considerations, deliberations.

When was the last time I actually bothered? Of companionship and company, of endearment and adoration. Looking back at old entries and taking a guess, probably two years.

Two years and no less of solitude, I daresay I nevertheless appreciated the predicament placed upon me. I spoke not of it nor did I venture finding such. Friends remained friends, and I remained focused on nothing else apart from work.

But maybe the days are free now, thus my foolish heart seeks things to fill itself up when there is nothing else to distract it. Finding someone to be a bundle of fun yet serious, witty yet silly, smart yet ignorant. It's all a contradiction, yet still the right kind of weird. I find myself enjoying the conversations no less than any before, if not more so.

Forget the minor moral implications, ignore all the past actions that might make this any less appropriate, yet I cannot ignore one thing. Regardless how charming and lovely this idea is, it is nothing short of a train wreck. This locomotive, grand and beautiful, well built and elegant, doesn't change the fact that it is headed straight towards a brick wall.

Such as it is, I cannot help but join in the ride regardless. Such is life, full of contradictions.

6MU017 "Career Prep" - Site work Day 13

Friday 3/7/2015
Site: Studio 21:05

Supervisor: JD Wong
Working hours: 4pm - 3am (11 hours)

Foreword: Bunkface! guitar and bass tracking

Timeline:

4pm - Reported to work, moved on to run tracking bass for Bunkface!

6:30pm - Finished tracking, short dinner break

9pm - Continued to run tracking session for rhythm guitar and lead guitar

3am - Wrapped up most guitar overdubs and main lines, dismiss for the day

Reflection: 

Perhaps one of my most exciting and yet challenging tracking sessions tonight, partially due to the energy the members of Bunkface! have, it can be quite hard to keep up sometimes, especially since I'm still a novice.

Tracked most of the night without much incident, although I realised that more engagement between myself the engineer and the session musicians is crucial in maintaining a calm environment for both parties. A smile and a warm reception always helps with calming the studio anxiety most musicians face, even experienced ones like Bunkface!.

6MU017 "Career Prep" - Site work Day 12

Thursday 2/7/2015
Site: Home
Supervisor: JD Wong
Working hours: 12pm - 10pm (10 hours)

Foreword: Intern site mix work-at-home

Timeline:

12pm - Started mixing for Garden's International School band competition winner's originals

10pm - Finished 1 session, dismissed

 

Reflection: 

 

My supervisor had some personal matters to attend to today, and thus left me with some mixing assignments to be done at my leisure today.

Finished one mix today, another to be completed during the weekend.

6MU017 "Career Prep" - Site work Day 11

Wednesday 1/7/2015
Site: Studio 21:05
Supervisor: JD Wong
Working hours: 8pm - 1am (5 hours)

Foreword: Tracking day

Timeline:
 

8pm - Reported to work, briefed on tracking session for later

9pm - Did mix prep for previous sessions

10pm - Tracking drums, handled the tracking

1am - Dismissed 

Reflection:

Today I had the pleasure of running a session tracking for drums, was properly challenged on my DAW chops again.

Also did some session prep for my supervisor's previous sessions.