Initially I posted this then took it down. Now I've decided to put it back up online again. Just for keepsake I guess, on this blog. So here, my letter to my dearest senior, you are missed.

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To my dearest senior,
Before I start, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your letter! I have so much to thank you for, but I shall just start by thanking you for your letter. I didn't open the letter on the night you passed it to me, I don't know really know why. Perhaps I was already a bit emotional that night, hence I did not have the courage to open your letter, in fear of an outburst. Not that there was (or could have been) anything bad in the letter, but more of, I couldn't quite bring myself to face the fact that you were leaving so soon. Too soon.

I read the letter on the bus this morning (sunday, 29th May). I know it sounds very silly, but I only manage to bring myself to open it after starring at the utterly hilarious envelop face for minutes. WHEN MATURITY MEETS NONSENSE+CRAZY :) I read the long letter once through. Then I read it again. And again. After about three read-throughs, my head was in a blur already. A deluge of emotions swept over me. At that moment I really did not know what to think. I have to admit, it was really too much to take in that one short moment. I could feel tears choking up at the back of my throat. And I told myself, oh great, terrible idea to choose to read your letter on a public bus!!!! I don't know why I was so emotional, but I was just so overwhelmed then, it is hard to put in words.

I remember when I first saw you in sec 1. You ran into the spice room the sec1s were in, screaming like a mad person to Joey and Niki. Frankly, it was peculiarly amusing – then, i didn't know you were our senior! Following, you started playing a new song you learnt in front of everyone. At that point of time, I thought you were very showy and quite proud, so I told myself to sheer away from you and just mind my own business (HAHAHA). Afterwards you started befriending us, the sec1s. You seemed to click with Kimberly well then, and we didn't really talk, so I decided, really its ok, just stay away. Hence I didn't exactly get to meet you or get to know you in sec 1. Yes, as stupid as it sounds, that is my side of the story.

When Elizabeth left last year, I vaguely remember the day where laoshi called for a reshuffle in the ensemble. My heart sank a little when he told me to move up, and moved you back to 2nd Violin. Next to me, to be my partner! At the point, I was a bit intimidated. I thought, OH NO! WHY DID HE HAVE TO PUT ME WITH THAT GIRL!!?!!??!?! But of course, I listened to him and moved. I remember you were pretty upset about being moved back to this section, and you were mumbling something like "elizabeth... elizabeth..." to yourself. When I sat down, til today, I still distinctively remember you telling me "If you don't want to sit with me, you don't have to", with a scowl. And I told myself, oh crap this time you are really in for it!

As time went by, I got to know you better. I regret not remembering how exactly the ice broke between us, but I most definitely embrace the fact that it did. I truly enjoy the long chats we have during practice – sometimes crazy and nonsensical, sometimes serious and grave, and other times a huge range of stuff in between the two. It was so much fun, we seemed to never ever run out of things to talk about. It always tickles me when laoshi has to remind us time and time again to lower our volume or to keep quiet.

I always enjoyed telling you about different incidents I encountered, the different sights I saw and the different happenings that I experienced. Just because you always had a witty comment to add, or a good word of advice to put forth, or even a retaliation. But no matter what it is, you were always ready to listen and to offer an opinion. I truly appreciate that. Also, building onto the point you brought up in your letter – you are mature for your age too. Maybe that is another reason why I like sharing and discussing things with you. Ever so often are you able to provide me an objective and insightful response I am never able to garner from my other friends, however dear. I mean, being able to trust and tell someone things is one matter, but being able to receive a beneficial and helpful and relevant response is totally another. So I guess from you, I have managed to achieve both, which is lovely.

Also, I have discovered that I tell you a lot of things. I mean, yes, for the matter I do love to talk A LOT, so there isn't anything too surprising about that. But I have told you things that I won't tell other people, even my friends or natalie or ruth. One reason being that, as said above, you are able to respond in a positive manner unlike the rest, but also, because we share a certain bond? Like how you like to say jokingly that we are almost like twins! Yes, exactly that. We seem to be able to relate to each other in a special way. And maybe also because of Elizabeth and "my Elizabeth"! hahahahaha Frankly, I think you are the only person on earth that I told so much of Judee about!!!!!! Thank you so much for listening. I know I can sound way obsessive at times. Oh dear.

And of course there are also the times where we fight. I admit, there are times when I get really frustrated with you. Most of which, I think I am right, and you think you are right. This was especially so during the SYF period, which was a tough time for everyone. I guess this is why you'd see yourself as PAP and me as the opposition. With that said, of course PAP always wins. Majority of the time, I would tell myself, just follow... just follow. Perhaps it is out of respect, or it could also be me accepting the fact that I am, afterall, inferior in terms of skill and experience.

Knowing my personality, I am the kind who loves to be the right one and I like things to go my way. So I feel, in this sense, you have changed me for the better. I have learnt to step back and see the greater picture, before jumping in to claim I am doing things the best way it should be. I would love to leave this out, but the plain truth is, more often than not, I eventually discover that you are the correct one, and I'm wrong. But it is comforting to know that I learn something. Well, I have learnt a lot from you.

And I also feel that it is due to this arguments that we have that has shaped me into a better player. Moreover, I have to say that I am increasingly thankful to laoshi for putting me with you. Being a better player, you have indeed unknowingly "forced" me to work harder and surpass my own standards and expectations. Many a time in attempt to push myself closer to your level, I have had to work doubly hard. This has definitely helped me greatly in terms of honing my musical abilities. More importantly, I am glad how we are always able to bury the hatchet and make up at the end of the day. Possibly it is these conflicts that bonded us and made us even tighter.

If now I am asked to describe you as a person, the words "showy" "proud" "pushy" etc which first ensued my mind when I first met you, would be the last things I would pick. No, they would not even be an option. You are a very bright girl, very smart and very mature. I am sure, and I really do hope, you will do well in life. Moreover, you are also a very understanding person and a great listener as I've mentioned before. Evidently, you are a very jovial spirit, the life of any party – very fun and great company to be with once we know each other. You can be a little obnoxious and childish at time, which is contradictory to what has been said before, but its quite alright. I guess you just show different personalities at different times, to different people.

But at the end of the day, I personally feel you are a fantastic player and a fantastic person. You are definitely the most special person to me in the ensemble. I mean, I do appreciate every single strings member, but it is most definitely not every day I meet someone like you. Words defy me right now, but you are special. And I really appreciate you and all that you have bestowed to me musically, intellectually, academically, emotionally, spiritually and in any of the most humanly ways possible. 

As cliché as it sounds, time flies. The time we spent knowing each other, or getting to know each other, was fleeting but memorable I feel. Two years (and a few months) went by in a blink of an eye. It never occurred to me that it has been so long. Perhaps it is this lack of effort put in to cherish the moment is the thing that is making this farewell pretty difficult for me. But as it has often been said, all good things come to an end. It is time for both of us to start a new chapter in our lives, but for me, I will never forget you and the lovely memories you have left me. It is truly beyond my ability to fully summarise and document all the wonderful times and all the amazing things you have showed and taught me in the time we spent together in this letter, but nonetheless, I dare say I have them documented in my heart.

So as we move on with our lives, as we meet new people, as we each tackle new problems we face, I will keep the memories we have constructed together close to heart – and when I feel down or hit a rough patch, I will revisit this memories and tell myself, there was once we were so happy. And I will remember you, my crazy senior, and I'm sure, I'd smile and that thought will warm my heart.

As much as I hate goodbyes and farewells, what has to be done, has to be done; what has to happen, has to happen. Every show must come to a close, eventually. In our case, the dreaded time has arrived. As the curtains draw to a close, and as the last sentences of our story (and this letter!) is being written, I extend my warmest regards and wishes to you – may you succeed in every aspect of your life and attaining stellar achievements, not just in the O levels but in your career and your future. May you also be blessed with the best of health and luck and earn/have a lot a lot a lot of money $$$$$, enough to be happy. Lastly, may you enjoy to greatest happiness and bliss in life!

Once again, thank you for everything. You mean so much to me, I (will) miss you very dearly. Take care, and all the best! I hope we will keep in contact.

Warmest regards, love,
VANESSA KOH

Something I wrote for my focused paragraph assignment. OKAY, ITS *FAR* FROM A FOCUSED PARAGRAPH… its practically almost a full essay. Fuck. Heck la. I hope the teacher would be able to see it to the topic – Write about a occasion where good intentions backfired (or something like that)

I love English. I love writing. I hate assignments.

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The searing heat from the merciless sun hit my wrinkled skin. I reached for my handkerchief; the beautiful embroidery showed evident traces of age, the colour from the threads had faded and the corners were stubbornly stained a pale yellow. I blotted off the beads of sweat that had formed on my neck, just above the collar of my blouse, and pushed a couple of greying stray hairs that had escaped from my bun net out off my forehead. There was a nagging pain in my back – age was finally getting to me, I thought.

A gust of cool breeze caressed my cheeks as I approached the entrance of the MRT station. My joints ached in an unforgiving manner as I hobbled forward slowly, supporting my aged body with a walking stick in one hand, and balancing a huge plastic bag in the other. I stopped just before escalators.

“Tissue paper. Three. One dollar. Tissue paper. You want? One dollar, three.” I uttered, in the most coherent English I could manage. Throngs of people strode past me, many did not even afford to offer me a glance, much less a smile. I sighed, shooting a cursory glance over my shoulder in hope to score a benevolent customer. In the distance, a teenage boy clad in a pristine white school uniform, with a bulging backpack, stumbled in my direction. He had a bursting plastic bag of books in one hand, and was deeply engrossed in the novel he held onto haphazardly in the other. I watched as he pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses carelessly, without allowing his eyes to steal away from the yellowed pages of his book at all.

He looked up as he passed me. “Tissue?" Three, one dollar,” I tried. He snarled. And rolled his eyes, and walked on. Suddenly, I heard a tearing sound, followed by the clumsy clattering of books onto the floor. His plastic bag had given way. I quickly hobbled forward to help him pick up his books, putting them into my extra plastic bag. “Stop it! What are you doing!?” He screeched in a pretentious accent. I continued putting the books into the bag. He snatched the plastic bag from me in an annoyed manner, “go away! I didn’t ask for your help you old fogey!”

I stepped back, startled. Unperturbed, I reached for a packet of tissue and my last Halls sweet, offered them to him. “Hot… here, sweet… give you eat,” I offered. He starred at me in a quizzically, before shifting his gaze to the tissue and the sweet, which had partially melted in its sheer-red wrapping under the strong afternoon heat. He looked up me once again. Grunting with annoyance, he flicked the contents in my palm off in a swift move. The tissue and candy dropped to the pavement at my feet. “I didn’t ask for any of your help or kindness you stupid old frog. I dont need any of your useless tissue or that gross sweet. Who are you to offer me anything!? You are just a worthless old ancient piece of trash waiting around for people to offer you money. you are a disgrace to society, a cripple, a parasite! I hate people like you, you disgust me!”

I watched as he stomped off, clutching his books tight to his chest angrily. I sighed forlornly. Another throng of people were exiting the MRT station again. As I looked around at all the bustle around me, it was evident that society had long quickened its pace. And as everyone seek and plunder for the meaning of life in the luminance of their handphone screens, it slowly struck me that my presence and all the good intents I had for the people around me had already faded into obsoleteness. Just like the colour from the threads of my handkerchief.

And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to
without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he's here
Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

I walked up Emerald Hill this evening. It was not much of a hill, I’ll say, but a lovely walk nonetheless. As I made my way down the lane, old shop houses greeted me on either sides of the path. The intricate designs of the shop houses intrigued me; the faded colours of the walls showed evident traces of age. The wide windows, donned with dust-laced blinds that shield the interiors from curious eyes, stood agape as though luring those eyes to search deeper. It was quiet. Very quiet. I could hear my foot steps clearly as the heels of my worn-out flats tapped against the dry asphalt. To think these were once the shoes which tortured my feet with blisters, of course they still cause those god-dammed abrasions once in a while, but the breaking in phase had finally passed.

I continued walking. A couple of Caucasians and Philippinoes rushed down the road with bags of groceries. Not together of course. Separately. At odd intervals. Otherwise, nothing threatened the deafening silence of the lane. It was really quiet. I appreciated that sort of quiet. It wasn’t something too common in the city. It was comforting; it calmed me a little. I took a cursory glance at the houses on my left. Each standing majestically behind every individual gate, each of a different shade, each harbouring a different story. I wondered to myself, do people actually still stay in these houses? Well, I guess they do. Cars were parked in the tiny porches built at the front of some of the houses. To my right, were another row of shop houses. They were lined along a sheltered pathway unlike those on the left. That gave it a more cosy feel.

I turned back upon hitting what seemed like the end of the lane. I stepped onto the sheltered pathway which was originally on my right. I passed every shop house slowly. It was quiet. So quiet. No light escaped from the windows of those houses. It was quiet. An old lady sat alone on a wooden bench outside one of the houses. I smiled. She smiled. And nodded back appreciatively. I walked on.

A black cat stealthily crept past me. Ominous. I walked forth. House after house after house after house. Every one of same template and scaffold, yet of different intricacies; so similar, yet so different. I spotted a young couple playing on one of the few see-saws that appeared awkwardly down the lane. They looked happy. They looked happy in that moment. It was nice.

I walked past a house. It was a pink house if I am not wrong. The pink paint flaked off the exterior walls – such stark contrast to the whitewashed walls of the common HDB blocks. Soft pale yellow light seeped gently through the slits of the blinds. Pale yellow. Emitting such an old feel, as though I was traversing grounds of yesteryears. I heard the clinking sound of porcelain. The family must have been having dinner. I could see the shadows cast at odd angles by the revolving ceiling fan, which scrapped through the air in a lethargic manner. Somehow, I was reminded vaguely of fragmented scenes from Stella Kon’s ‘Emily of Emerald Hill’.

As I reached the end of the lane, the disturbing scent of burning tobacco hit me. Disgusting. Beer glasses clinked, and the mellowed sound of joyous laughter filled the air. Merry making was underway. All the booze and buzz. I could not help but hold my breath as I walked past a guy lighting a cigarette. I scowled. Another step on the edge of the pavement, smoking. Inhale, exhale, 2 seconds of your life gone for taking in that puff, and probably another 2 hours gone for the stuff you did not fully exhale. Smoking is gross. I see a guy studying with all his notes, and a mug of beer. Interesting, maybe he was conducting a study on which was the best beer in town. I rolled my eyes as I saw a odd china-looking man asking a Caucasian man help him light his cigarette. I glared awe-struck as he happily puffed on the freshly-lit poison stick, walking towards what seemed like his wife and his barely-3-years-old child who waited by the pavement.

The street was bustling with activity. I heard the last few beeps of the traffic light. Cars whizzed by. Exhaust fumes laced the air. What happened to the quiet, I wondered, as I brushed off a jewellery brochure which was shoved in my face. I took a long glance at the row of commercialised stores and shops opposite the road. Something jumped into my head, at the end of the day, what exactly, is it that I want out of my life?

As always, I do not have the answer.

I miss the quiet. Already.

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I went to watch another recording of we are singaporeans today. Another episode with judee in it. It was pretty fun at certain points. When judee spoke! She is so funny. The questions were way tougher today. Though I wished I had actually been the person chosen for the $200 lucky draw, the question was answerable. I need money.

We waited for judee at the reception. I dont know why. It was awkward. Oh boy… Well, yes. Afterwards I spoke extensively with CJ over dinner and desert. Now I am unsettled. Oh well, Emerald Hill helped a little. Refer above.

gul·li·ble/ˈgələbəl/
Adjective: Easily persuaded to believe something; credulous.

Well, so a few days back, at about 8pm, I was walking to the bus stop in front of MICA to take the bus to meet my dad. And suddenly, this old man walks up to me.

“Excuse me miss, i’m sorry, but i need your help…” He places his palms together, in a prayer-like action, as if to plead. Shaken out of my reverie, i was mildly startled. I starred blankly at him. I vaguely remember uttering “huh?”. Yes, not very intelligent or glam, i know. He continues. “I lost my wallet, and I need to take the bus back to toa payoh. could you give me $1.60?” I starred blankly once again, mentally trying to calculate the general distance and bus fare for MICA til TPY. “errr ok? i dont have much money left myself though,” I muttered as I rummaged through my messy bag. “oh if you could, $2 would be good. so i can change bus,” he added. I drew my wallet from my bag finally. Unzipped it. A pathetic handfull of coins and a thick stack of receipts glared at me. “Errrr here,” I dropped 2 one dollar coins in his hand. I jingled my wallet. I only had a few ten cents and twenty cents left. “thank you thank you so much miss,” he thanked me profusely. “youre welcome, take care,” and i pranced off, plugging my earphones back in - judee and jo dong resumed crooning into my head. The last I heard were a few more thank yous as he turned the street corner.

The next day when I related this anecdote to my dad, he insisted that that was an encounter with a con-man who could not bear to rob a girl who had less money than he initially ask for. Hahahahahaha pecks of being broke? I dont know, I dont even know if that was really a conman! hahahahahha if it was, thank god i wasn’t too lucid or focused that day – or for the matter, kind hearted – or i think i would have even offered him a few more cents to make a phone call. or even my phone if i was an idiot enough. HAHAHAHA according to my dad, the conman would have just snatched my wallet if i had opened it and it was loaded! much to his dismay…

I mean, my point is not that i am 2 dollars poorer to a stranger, but that, was that act an act of kindness? or gullibility? are kind people necessary gullible? i wonder.

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speaking of gullible. There has been a new viral spam thing going round facebook again. Have received so many of them today, since afternoon. It shows a fake looking youtube screenshot coupled with a message along the lines of “omg vanessa i cant believe thats you in the vid!” or “omg vanessa i think you might want to untag yourself from this vid asap!” At one glance its obvious its spam right!? WTFFFFFFF how stupid can people be? I cant believe so many of my friends clicked it! even jingwen!! oh gosh. even more shocked am i at how fast it spreads. It is really a cased of the severe ripple effect. One friend hit… becomes 10 friends… 100…1000… more and more. never ending. never ending. never ending. gullible. 

GLINDA
I hope you're happy!
I hope you're happy now
I hope you're happy how you
Hurt your cause forever
I hope you think you're clever!
ELPHABA
I hope you're happy
I hope you're happy, too
I hope you're proud how you
Would grovel in submission
To feed your own ambition
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I really hope you get it
And you don't live to regret it
I hope you're happy in the end
I hope you're happy, my friend
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“Why do you always appear so pretentious to me? It gets a bit annoying sometimes.”
“Stop it, will you. Stop being so full of yourself.”
“I detest it when people think they are so skilled in a certain aspect, when they are evidently NOT!”
“OPEN YOUR EYES WILL YOU”
“To think you think you’d really make it big”
“Don’t make me laugh. Come on. Seriously?”
“Oh wait. I’m already laughing. AT YOU. hahahahahahahaha”
- From twitter

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Yes, many a time I do wonder. What goes on in that warped mind of yours? Hmmmm well, you tell me. So much for, lets curb those bitchy thoughts of yours and be a good girl this year, and stop picking random intellectual fights with people this year! Oh gosh it can never stop could it? Are written fights, where words are the swords and shields that build up and tear down everything, really that entertaining? Huh, is it? Inferiority is the driving factor of it all. I know. So does winning a written war make you feel smart? Does it empower your sense of having a stand in things? Or having a stand in things over others? What is the deciding factor of winning a written war?What is the takeaway at the end of the day? It is not like you get a trophy or even a said title for being the unspoken champion in a match like this. Words are the pawns we use to play this game. To take down the king, one has to play her words well, and with thorough consideration and wit. To take down the king, and to emerge victorious, not only does one have to take down others, but also to know to defend ones possessions and ones entity on a whole with tenacity. To think of it, isn’t that the objective in any war or battle? To have your king be the last one standing. The one that survives and thrives through all that it faces and is put through; some things might just be sacrificed in the process. But isn’t that always the objective? Isn’t that the objective of life? Survival of the fittest, they say. To conquer and secure.

Well, yes, those are my tweets.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Yes, many a time I do wonder. What goes on in that warped mind of yours, vanessa koh? Hmmmm well, you tell me. So much for, lets curb those bitchy thoughts of yours and be a good girl this year, and stop picking random intellectual fights with people this year! Exactly, so with that said, WHY ARE YOU EVEN ATTEMPTING ANYTHING NEW AGAIN? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU VANESSA KOH.

At the end of the day, I am the most horrid person of them all. I am the pretentious one. The one that is so full of herself. I am the most two-faced one of them all. And there is nothing you can do about it. Why - Because, I do not even try. Because, I do not even know why. Or try to find out why. I just am. So fuck it. Sometimes I do hate the way I am as much as you do.

Change? You want me to change? I guess we have already addressed the issue of my contempt for change.

Yes. No more confusion. At the end of the day, I am the most horrid person of them all. That is the answer. The answer.

What I am / Its not all good / Its not all bad /Its okay
Time has come / Wish we could / Get it back / Its too late
And I, miss you the most.
I miss me the most.

The complication of matters. The complexity of life and its dealings never fail to perplex me. The element of human nature and interpersonal connections, or disconnections for the matter, never fails too, to add on to this unsolvable puzzle… this unanswerable question… this inescapable maze. I guess one could argue that these intricacies are what makes life interesting, giving colour to the plain canvas of life itself. Its true to a large extent, I agree, but why can’t we all just live life in black and whites? Is that not good? Simplicity is a virtue to me. Well of course life would be mundane that way, but at least one can constantly be comforted by the fact of the constant consistency one enjoys? No? I dont know, so many a time I just wish that every step we take is a safe step, and every move we make, we are guaranteed its a safe one. So I’m not a risk taker? Well, I really do not know. I guess in words and in writing and in thought, I see myself as someone who favours precaution, and order. But I do learn that many a time, when faced with an opportunity or a cause, I do indeed just plunge into it all. But also, I know I am definitely not a “jump and a net will appear” type A risk taker. All in all, yes, I know. I am a very confused person. I am really, admittedly, very confused about my own nature. And personality. So often do I try to spell things out about myself, for myself, albeit merely ending up with a whole long list of contradictions in itself. Most of the time. Just like this. Initially, I started this paragraph with a content aim in mind, but I kind of forgot what it was. HAHAHA I amuse myself somehow! But yes, I FORGOT!!!!! so it was all random ramblings! Oh dear.

I decided to force myself to write something here, or elsewhere (but I chose here still!), today. My brain is getting a little rusty due to the great lack of activity. Been rather dormant lately, intellectually dormant. Maybe not just lately; yes, it’s been quite a while since I used my brain in any manner more wise and out of an exam context.

Anyway, I updated and reinstalled many of the soft wares in my computer today. Yes, indeed it did require a lot of waiting and restarting of the computer. But surprisingly, I was really patient today. It is very unlike me to be so. Oh well, its a good thing I guess. Perhaps it was because I had nothing better to do anyway. Nevertheless, I am very pleased that most of the updates went well. However, I am still not very adapted to the new formats that coupled the updates. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE FORMAT OF THINGS!!? Sigh they changed the format of msn, and live writer toooo! oh boy, i AM quite pissed because of that. Just because I am so lost using both programs now! it took me forever to figure how to load my old blog posts here. Technical idiot.

-- I never liked change anyway. Ever. I guess it is just not my ‘thing’. Yes, fact has it that I am not adaptable. I mean, not to state it as a definitive, it is just that I take time to adapt to things, to changes. Sometimes it takes a long while. Sometimes it never seems to happen. I personally gather that I am the type which dislikes change – not detest, just not favour. Is it odd if I suddenly bring in the point that despite all, I still enjoy seeking adventure? And I like surprises too. Well, I guess I enjoy and appreciate small things that pop up along the way, adding colour to the journey. However, somehow or another, I simply can’t stand things that affect the routine of life. It seems the moment the pattern is disrupted, it affects me too! But of course, I’d then be forced to take on a new one be it in my liking or not. Oh well. Life, kick it in the ass.

Initially I posted this then took it down. Now I've decided to put it back up online again. Just for keepsake I guess, on this blog. So here, my letter to my dearest senior, you are missed.

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To my dearest senior,
Before I start, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your letter! I have so much to thank you for, but I shall just start by thanking you for your letter. I didn't open the letter on the night you passed it to me, I don't know really know why. Perhaps I was already a bit emotional that night, hence I did not have the courage to open your letter, in fear of an outburst. Not that there was (or could have been) anything bad in the letter, but more of, I couldn't quite bring myself to face the fact that you were leaving so soon. Too soon.

I read the letter on the bus this morning (sunday, 29th May). I know it sounds very silly, but I only manage to bring myself to open it after starring at the utterly hilarious envelop face for minutes. WHEN MATURITY MEETS NONSENSE+CRAZY :) I read the long letter once through. Then I read it again. And again. After about three read-throughs, my head was in a blur already. A deluge of emotions swept over me. At that moment I really did not know what to think. I have to admit, it was really too much to take in that one short moment. I could feel tears choking up at the back of my throat. And I told myself, oh great, terrible idea to choose to read your letter on a public bus!!!! I don't know why I was so emotional, but I was just so overwhelmed then, it is hard to put in words.

I remember when I first saw you in sec 1. You ran into the spice room the sec1s were in, screaming like a mad person to Joey and Niki. Frankly, it was peculiarly amusing – then, i didn't know you were our senior! Following, you started playing a new song you learnt in front of everyone. At that point of time, I thought you were very showy and quite proud, so I told myself to sheer away from you and just mind my own business (HAHAHA). Afterwards you started befriending us, the sec1s. You seemed to click with Kimberly well then, and we didn't really talk, so I decided, really its ok, just stay away. Hence I didn't exactly get to meet you or get to know you in sec 1. Yes, as stupid as it sounds, that is my side of the story.

When Elizabeth left last year, I vaguely remember the day where laoshi called for a reshuffle in the ensemble. My heart sank a little when he told me to move up, and moved you back to 2nd Violin. Next to me, to be my partner! At the point, I was a bit intimidated. I thought, OH NO! WHY DID HE HAVE TO PUT ME WITH THAT GIRL!!?!!??!?! But of course, I listened to him and moved. I remember you were pretty upset about being moved back to this section, and you were mumbling something like "elizabeth... elizabeth..." to yourself. When I sat down, til today, I still distinctively remember you telling me "If you don't want to sit with me, you don't have to", with a scowl. And I told myself, oh crap this time you are really in for it!

As time went by, I got to know you better. I regret not remembering how exactly the ice broke between us, but I most definitely embrace the fact that it did. I truly enjoy the long chats we have during practice – sometimes crazy and nonsensical, sometimes serious and grave, and other times a huge range of stuff in between the two. It was so much fun, we seemed to never ever run out of things to talk about. It always tickles me when laoshi has to remind us time and time again to lower our volume or to keep quiet.

I always enjoyed telling you about different incidents I encountered, the different sights I saw and the different happenings that I experienced. Just because you always had a witty comment to add, or a good word of advice to put forth, or even a retaliation. But no matter what it is, you were always ready to listen and to offer an opinion. I truly appreciate that. Also, building onto the point you brought up in your letter – you are mature for your age too. Maybe that is another reason why I like sharing and discussing things with you. Ever so often are you able to provide me an objective and insightful response I am never able to garner from my other friends, however dear. I mean, being able to trust and tell someone things is one matter, but being able to receive a beneficial and helpful and relevant response is totally another. So I guess from you, I have managed to achieve both, which is lovely.

Also, I have discovered that I tell you a lot of things. I mean, yes, for the matter I do love to talk A LOT, so there isn't anything too surprising about that. But I have told you things that I won't tell other people, even my friends or natalie or ruth. One reason being that, as said above, you are able to respond in a positive manner unlike the rest, but also, because we share a certain bond? Like how you like to say jokingly that we are almost like twins! Yes, exactly that. We seem to be able to relate to each other in a special way. And maybe also because of Elizabeth and "my Elizabeth"! hahahahaha Frankly, I think you are the only person on earth that I told so much of Judee about!!!!!! Thank you so much for listening. I know I can sound way obsessive at times. Oh dear.

And of course there are also the times where we fight. I admit, there are times when I get really frustrated with you. Most of which, I think I am right, and you think you are right. This was especially so during the SYF period, which was a tough time for everyone. I guess this is why you'd see yourself as PAP and me as the opposition. With that said, of course PAP always wins. Majority of the time, I would tell myself, just follow... just follow. Perhaps it is out of respect, or it could also be me accepting the fact that I am, afterall, inferior in terms of skill and experience.

Knowing my personality, I am the kind who loves to be the right one and I like things to go my way. So I feel, in this sense, you have changed me for the better. I have learnt to step back and see the greater picture, before jumping in to claim I am doing things the best way it should be. I would love to leave this out, but the plain truth is, more often than not, I eventually discover that you are the correct one, and I'm wrong. But it is comforting to know that I learn something. Well, I have learnt a lot from you.

And I also feel that it is due to this arguments that we have that has shaped me into a better player. Moreover, I have to say that I am increasingly thankful to laoshi for putting me with you. Being a better player, you have indeed unknowingly "forced" me to work harder and surpass my own standards and expectations. Many a time in attempt to push myself closer to your level, I have had to work doubly hard. This has definitely helped me greatly in terms of honing my musical abilities. More importantly, I am glad how we are always able to bury the hatchet and make up at the end of the day. Possibly it is these conflicts that bonded us and made us even tighter.

If now I am asked to describe you as a person, the words "showy" "proud" "pushy" etc which first ensued my mind when I first met you, would be the last things I would pick. No, they would not even be an option. You are a very bright girl, very smart and very mature. I am sure, and I really do hope, you will do well in life. Moreover, you are also a very understanding person and a great listener as I've mentioned before. Evidently, you are a very jovial spirit, the life of any party – very fun and great company to be with once we know each other. You can be a little obnoxious and childish at time, which is contradictory to what has been said before, but its quite alright. I guess you just show different personalities at different times, to different people.

But at the end of the day, I personally feel you are a fantastic player and a fantastic person. You are definitely the most special person to me in the ensemble. I mean, I do appreciate every single strings member, but it is most definitely not every day I meet someone like you. Words defy me right now, but you are special. And I really appreciate you and all that you have bestowed to me musically, intellectually, academically, emotionally, spiritually and in any of the most humanly ways possible. 

As cliché as it sounds, time flies. The time we spent knowing each other, or getting to know each other, was fleeting but memorable I feel. Two years (and a few months) went by in a blink of an eye. It never occurred to me that it has been so long. Perhaps it is this lack of effort put in to cherish the moment is the thing that is making this farewell pretty difficult for me. But as it has often been said, all good things come to an end. It is time for both of us to start a new chapter in our lives, but for me, I will never forget you and the lovely memories you have left me. It is truly beyond my ability to fully summarise and document all the wonderful times and all the amazing things you have showed and taught me in the time we spent together in this letter, but nonetheless, I dare say I have them documented in my heart.

So as we move on with our lives, as we meet new people, as we each tackle new problems we face, I will keep the memories we have constructed together close to heart – and when I feel down or hit a rough patch, I will revisit this memories and tell myself, there was once we were so happy. And I will remember you, my crazy senior, and I'm sure, I'd smile and that thought will warm my heart.

As much as I hate goodbyes and farewells, what has to be done, has to be done; what has to happen, has to happen. Every show must come to a close, eventually. In our case, the dreaded time has arrived. As the curtains draw to a close, and as the last sentences of our story (and this letter!) is being written, I extend my warmest regards and wishes to you – may you succeed in every aspect of your life and attaining stellar achievements, not just in the O levels but in your career and your future. May you also be blessed with the best of health and luck and earn/have a lot a lot a lot of money $$$$$, enough to be happy. Lastly, may you enjoy to greatest happiness and bliss in life!

Once again, thank you for everything. You mean so much to me, I (will) miss you very dearly. Take care, and all the best! I hope we will keep in contact.

Warmest regards, love,
VANESSA KOH

Something I wrote for my focused paragraph assignment. OKAY, ITS *FAR* FROM A FOCUSED PARAGRAPH… its practically almost a full essay. Fuck. Heck la. I hope the teacher would be able to see it to the topic – Write about a occasion where good intentions backfired (or something like that)

I love English. I love writing. I hate assignments.

-------------------------

The searing heat from the merciless sun hit my wrinkled skin. I reached for my handkerchief; the beautiful embroidery showed evident traces of age, the colour from the threads had faded and the corners were stubbornly stained a pale yellow. I blotted off the beads of sweat that had formed on my neck, just above the collar of my blouse, and pushed a couple of greying stray hairs that had escaped from my bun net out off my forehead. There was a nagging pain in my back – age was finally getting to me, I thought.

A gust of cool breeze caressed my cheeks as I approached the entrance of the MRT station. My joints ached in an unforgiving manner as I hobbled forward slowly, supporting my aged body with a walking stick in one hand, and balancing a huge plastic bag in the other. I stopped just before escalators.

“Tissue paper. Three. One dollar. Tissue paper. You want? One dollar, three.” I uttered, in the most coherent English I could manage. Throngs of people strode past me, many did not even afford to offer me a glance, much less a smile. I sighed, shooting a cursory glance over my shoulder in hope to score a benevolent customer. In the distance, a teenage boy clad in a pristine white school uniform, with a bulging backpack, stumbled in my direction. He had a bursting plastic bag of books in one hand, and was deeply engrossed in the novel he held onto haphazardly in the other. I watched as he pushed up his thick-rimmed glasses carelessly, without allowing his eyes to steal away from the yellowed pages of his book at all.

He looked up as he passed me. “Tissue?" Three, one dollar,” I tried. He snarled. And rolled his eyes, and walked on. Suddenly, I heard a tearing sound, followed by the clumsy clattering of books onto the floor. His plastic bag had given way. I quickly hobbled forward to help him pick up his books, putting them into my extra plastic bag. “Stop it! What are you doing!?” He screeched in a pretentious accent. I continued putting the books into the bag. He snatched the plastic bag from me in an annoyed manner, “go away! I didn’t ask for your help you old fogey!”

I stepped back, startled. Unperturbed, I reached for a packet of tissue and my last Halls sweet, offered them to him. “Hot… here, sweet… give you eat,” I offered. He starred at me in a quizzically, before shifting his gaze to the tissue and the sweet, which had partially melted in its sheer-red wrapping under the strong afternoon heat. He looked up me once again. Grunting with annoyance, he flicked the contents in my palm off in a swift move. The tissue and candy dropped to the pavement at my feet. “I didn’t ask for any of your help or kindness you stupid old frog. I dont need any of your useless tissue or that gross sweet. Who are you to offer me anything!? You are just a worthless old ancient piece of trash waiting around for people to offer you money. you are a disgrace to society, a cripple, a parasite! I hate people like you, you disgust me!”

I watched as he stomped off, clutching his books tight to his chest angrily. I sighed forlornly. Another throng of people were exiting the MRT station again. As I looked around at all the bustle around me, it was evident that society had long quickened its pace. And as everyone seek and plunder for the meaning of life in the luminance of their handphone screens, it slowly struck me that my presence and all the good intents I had for the people around me had already faded into obsoleteness. Just like the colour from the threads of my handkerchief.

And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to
without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he's here
Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

I walked up Emerald Hill this evening. It was not much of a hill, I’ll say, but a lovely walk nonetheless. As I made my way down the lane, old shop houses greeted me on either sides of the path. The intricate designs of the shop houses intrigued me; the faded colours of the walls showed evident traces of age. The wide windows, donned with dust-laced blinds that shield the interiors from curious eyes, stood agape as though luring those eyes to search deeper. It was quiet. Very quiet. I could hear my foot steps clearly as the heels of my worn-out flats tapped against the dry asphalt. To think these were once the shoes which tortured my feet with blisters, of course they still cause those god-dammed abrasions once in a while, but the breaking in phase had finally passed.

I continued walking. A couple of Caucasians and Philippinoes rushed down the road with bags of groceries. Not together of course. Separately. At odd intervals. Otherwise, nothing threatened the deafening silence of the lane. It was really quiet. I appreciated that sort of quiet. It wasn’t something too common in the city. It was comforting; it calmed me a little. I took a cursory glance at the houses on my left. Each standing majestically behind every individual gate, each of a different shade, each harbouring a different story. I wondered to myself, do people actually still stay in these houses? Well, I guess they do. Cars were parked in the tiny porches built at the front of some of the houses. To my right, were another row of shop houses. They were lined along a sheltered pathway unlike those on the left. That gave it a more cosy feel.

I turned back upon hitting what seemed like the end of the lane. I stepped onto the sheltered pathway which was originally on my right. I passed every shop house slowly. It was quiet. So quiet. No light escaped from the windows of those houses. It was quiet. An old lady sat alone on a wooden bench outside one of the houses. I smiled. She smiled. And nodded back appreciatively. I walked on.

A black cat stealthily crept past me. Ominous. I walked forth. House after house after house after house. Every one of same template and scaffold, yet of different intricacies; so similar, yet so different. I spotted a young couple playing on one of the few see-saws that appeared awkwardly down the lane. They looked happy. They looked happy in that moment. It was nice.

I walked past a house. It was a pink house if I am not wrong. The pink paint flaked off the exterior walls – such stark contrast to the whitewashed walls of the common HDB blocks. Soft pale yellow light seeped gently through the slits of the blinds. Pale yellow. Emitting such an old feel, as though I was traversing grounds of yesteryears. I heard the clinking sound of porcelain. The family must have been having dinner. I could see the shadows cast at odd angles by the revolving ceiling fan, which scrapped through the air in a lethargic manner. Somehow, I was reminded vaguely of fragmented scenes from Stella Kon’s ‘Emily of Emerald Hill’.

As I reached the end of the lane, the disturbing scent of burning tobacco hit me. Disgusting. Beer glasses clinked, and the mellowed sound of joyous laughter filled the air. Merry making was underway. All the booze and buzz. I could not help but hold my breath as I walked past a guy lighting a cigarette. I scowled. Another step on the edge of the pavement, smoking. Inhale, exhale, 2 seconds of your life gone for taking in that puff, and probably another 2 hours gone for the stuff you did not fully exhale. Smoking is gross. I see a guy studying with all his notes, and a mug of beer. Interesting, maybe he was conducting a study on which was the best beer in town. I rolled my eyes as I saw a odd china-looking man asking a Caucasian man help him light his cigarette. I glared awe-struck as he happily puffed on the freshly-lit poison stick, walking towards what seemed like his wife and his barely-3-years-old child who waited by the pavement.

The street was bustling with activity. I heard the last few beeps of the traffic light. Cars whizzed by. Exhaust fumes laced the air. What happened to the quiet, I wondered, as I brushed off a jewellery brochure which was shoved in my face. I took a long glance at the row of commercialised stores and shops opposite the road. Something jumped into my head, at the end of the day, what exactly, is it that I want out of my life?

As always, I do not have the answer.

I miss the quiet. Already.

-------------------------------

I went to watch another recording of we are singaporeans today. Another episode with judee in it. It was pretty fun at certain points. When judee spoke! She is so funny. The questions were way tougher today. Though I wished I had actually been the person chosen for the $200 lucky draw, the question was answerable. I need money.

We waited for judee at the reception. I dont know why. It was awkward. Oh boy… Well, yes. Afterwards I spoke extensively with CJ over dinner and desert. Now I am unsettled. Oh well, Emerald Hill helped a little. Refer above.

gul·li·ble/ˈgələbəl/
Adjective: Easily persuaded to believe something; credulous.

Well, so a few days back, at about 8pm, I was walking to the bus stop in front of MICA to take the bus to meet my dad. And suddenly, this old man walks up to me.

“Excuse me miss, i’m sorry, but i need your help…” He places his palms together, in a prayer-like action, as if to plead. Shaken out of my reverie, i was mildly startled. I starred blankly at him. I vaguely remember uttering “huh?”. Yes, not very intelligent or glam, i know. He continues. “I lost my wallet, and I need to take the bus back to toa payoh. could you give me $1.60?” I starred blankly once again, mentally trying to calculate the general distance and bus fare for MICA til TPY. “errr ok? i dont have much money left myself though,” I muttered as I rummaged through my messy bag. “oh if you could, $2 would be good. so i can change bus,” he added. I drew my wallet from my bag finally. Unzipped it. A pathetic handfull of coins and a thick stack of receipts glared at me. “Errrr here,” I dropped 2 one dollar coins in his hand. I jingled my wallet. I only had a few ten cents and twenty cents left. “thank you thank you so much miss,” he thanked me profusely. “youre welcome, take care,” and i pranced off, plugging my earphones back in - judee and jo dong resumed crooning into my head. The last I heard were a few more thank yous as he turned the street corner.

The next day when I related this anecdote to my dad, he insisted that that was an encounter with a con-man who could not bear to rob a girl who had less money than he initially ask for. Hahahahahaha pecks of being broke? I dont know, I dont even know if that was really a conman! hahahahahha if it was, thank god i wasn’t too lucid or focused that day – or for the matter, kind hearted – or i think i would have even offered him a few more cents to make a phone call. or even my phone if i was an idiot enough. HAHAHAHA according to my dad, the conman would have just snatched my wallet if i had opened it and it was loaded! much to his dismay…

I mean, my point is not that i am 2 dollars poorer to a stranger, but that, was that act an act of kindness? or gullibility? are kind people necessary gullible? i wonder.

------------------

speaking of gullible. There has been a new viral spam thing going round facebook again. Have received so many of them today, since afternoon. It shows a fake looking youtube screenshot coupled with a message along the lines of “omg vanessa i cant believe thats you in the vid!” or “omg vanessa i think you might want to untag yourself from this vid asap!” At one glance its obvious its spam right!? WTFFFFFFF how stupid can people be? I cant believe so many of my friends clicked it! even jingwen!! oh gosh. even more shocked am i at how fast it spreads. It is really a cased of the severe ripple effect. One friend hit… becomes 10 friends… 100…1000… more and more. never ending. never ending. never ending. gullible. 

GLINDA
I hope you're happy!
I hope you're happy now
I hope you're happy how you
Hurt your cause forever
I hope you think you're clever!
ELPHABA
I hope you're happy
I hope you're happy, too
I hope you're proud how you
Would grovel in submission
To feed your own ambition
----------
I really hope you get it
And you don't live to regret it
I hope you're happy in the end
I hope you're happy, my friend
---------

“Why do you always appear so pretentious to me? It gets a bit annoying sometimes.”
“Stop it, will you. Stop being so full of yourself.”
“I detest it when people think they are so skilled in a certain aspect, when they are evidently NOT!”
“OPEN YOUR EYES WILL YOU”
“To think you think you’d really make it big”
“Don’t make me laugh. Come on. Seriously?”
“Oh wait. I’m already laughing. AT YOU. hahahahahahahaha”
- From twitter

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Yes, many a time I do wonder. What goes on in that warped mind of yours? Hmmmm well, you tell me. So much for, lets curb those bitchy thoughts of yours and be a good girl this year, and stop picking random intellectual fights with people this year! Oh gosh it can never stop could it? Are written fights, where words are the swords and shields that build up and tear down everything, really that entertaining? Huh, is it? Inferiority is the driving factor of it all. I know. So does winning a written war make you feel smart? Does it empower your sense of having a stand in things? Or having a stand in things over others? What is the deciding factor of winning a written war?What is the takeaway at the end of the day? It is not like you get a trophy or even a said title for being the unspoken champion in a match like this. Words are the pawns we use to play this game. To take down the king, one has to play her words well, and with thorough consideration and wit. To take down the king, and to emerge victorious, not only does one have to take down others, but also to know to defend ones possessions and ones entity on a whole with tenacity. To think of it, isn’t that the objective in any war or battle? To have your king be the last one standing. The one that survives and thrives through all that it faces and is put through; some things might just be sacrificed in the process. But isn’t that always the objective? Isn’t that the objective of life? Survival of the fittest, they say. To conquer and secure.

Well, yes, those are my tweets.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Yes, many a time I do wonder. What goes on in that warped mind of yours, vanessa koh? Hmmmm well, you tell me. So much for, lets curb those bitchy thoughts of yours and be a good girl this year, and stop picking random intellectual fights with people this year! Exactly, so with that said, WHY ARE YOU EVEN ATTEMPTING ANYTHING NEW AGAIN? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU VANESSA KOH.

At the end of the day, I am the most horrid person of them all. I am the pretentious one. The one that is so full of herself. I am the most two-faced one of them all. And there is nothing you can do about it. Why - Because, I do not even try. Because, I do not even know why. Or try to find out why. I just am. So fuck it. Sometimes I do hate the way I am as much as you do.

Change? You want me to change? I guess we have already addressed the issue of my contempt for change.

Yes. No more confusion. At the end of the day, I am the most horrid person of them all. That is the answer. The answer.

What I am / Its not all good / Its not all bad /Its okay
Time has come / Wish we could / Get it back / Its too late
And I, miss you the most.
I miss me the most.

The complication of matters. The complexity of life and its dealings never fail to perplex me. The element of human nature and interpersonal connections, or disconnections for the matter, never fails too, to add on to this unsolvable puzzle… this unanswerable question… this inescapable maze. I guess one could argue that these intricacies are what makes life interesting, giving colour to the plain canvas of life itself. Its true to a large extent, I agree, but why can’t we all just live life in black and whites? Is that not good? Simplicity is a virtue to me. Well of course life would be mundane that way, but at least one can constantly be comforted by the fact of the constant consistency one enjoys? No? I dont know, so many a time I just wish that every step we take is a safe step, and every move we make, we are guaranteed its a safe one. So I’m not a risk taker? Well, I really do not know. I guess in words and in writing and in thought, I see myself as someone who favours precaution, and order. But I do learn that many a time, when faced with an opportunity or a cause, I do indeed just plunge into it all. But also, I know I am definitely not a “jump and a net will appear” type A risk taker. All in all, yes, I know. I am a very confused person. I am really, admittedly, very confused about my own nature. And personality. So often do I try to spell things out about myself, for myself, albeit merely ending up with a whole long list of contradictions in itself. Most of the time. Just like this. Initially, I started this paragraph with a content aim in mind, but I kind of forgot what it was. HAHAHA I amuse myself somehow! But yes, I FORGOT!!!!! so it was all random ramblings! Oh dear.

I decided to force myself to write something here, or elsewhere (but I chose here still!), today. My brain is getting a little rusty due to the great lack of activity. Been rather dormant lately, intellectually dormant. Maybe not just lately; yes, it’s been quite a while since I used my brain in any manner more wise and out of an exam context.

Anyway, I updated and reinstalled many of the soft wares in my computer today. Yes, indeed it did require a lot of waiting and restarting of the computer. But surprisingly, I was really patient today. It is very unlike me to be so. Oh well, its a good thing I guess. Perhaps it was because I had nothing better to do anyway. Nevertheless, I am very pleased that most of the updates went well. However, I am still not very adapted to the new formats that coupled the updates. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE FORMAT OF THINGS!!? Sigh they changed the format of msn, and live writer toooo! oh boy, i AM quite pissed because of that. Just because I am so lost using both programs now! it took me forever to figure how to load my old blog posts here. Technical idiot.

-- I never liked change anyway. Ever. I guess it is just not my ‘thing’. Yes, fact has it that I am not adaptable. I mean, not to state it as a definitive, it is just that I take time to adapt to things, to changes. Sometimes it takes a long while. Sometimes it never seems to happen. I personally gather that I am the type which dislikes change – not detest, just not favour. Is it odd if I suddenly bring in the point that despite all, I still enjoy seeking adventure? And I like surprises too. Well, I guess I enjoy and appreciate small things that pop up along the way, adding colour to the journey. However, somehow or another, I simply can’t stand things that affect the routine of life. It seems the moment the pattern is disrupted, it affects me too! But of course, I’d then be forced to take on a new one be it in my liking or not. Oh well. Life, kick it in the ass.