“You want to hold my hand?” I turn my head to look – at you. I realise my fingers are resting dangerously close to yours. Our arms brush; no, it’s just fabric against fabric. A smile dances at the corner of my lips, as the one on yours. The meeting of eyes; we each let out a small muffled laugh at the synchronicity of our thoughts. Looking back to the front of the room, I start humming the Beatles song (I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand). I can feel you smiling beside me; your way of telling me you were just thinking the exact same thing. You love the Beatles, you love the oldies, old but gold ain’t that right; yes I know, I do too.

Our hands fit together nicely, strangely at first yet very rightly so. There is something about the familiarity of placement indicative of how right it feels. Fingers intertwined, hearts strummed as one. We walk down the steps along the aisle of the lecture hall. The many people around us seem to be moving quickly and slowly, sort of like a recorded tape that is alternately being accelerated and rewound and replayed in slow motion again and again. Their actions reminiscent to that of moving underwater; the sounds around us appear muted.

I joke that your hand is a lot smoother than I expected so. You quip. You claim that is an insult. We share another tiny laugh. It feels like we are in our own detached space. I rub my thumb on the edge of your hand; you give my palm a little squeeze: I am here for you. The non-verbal communication aspect of our bond always worked better (ironic for a pair fundamentally connected by the love for literature and linguistics).

You lean in and walk extremely close to me, as you always do – did. Do. I can recognise your scent, even here; it makes me want to stay around you forever; it is a comforting sense. My senses are always acute when I am around you, I want to feel every bit of feeling that I feel in every moment. Remember the time I told you about how I had trouble learning ‘how to feel’ when I first started doing literature? You told me to keep at it; never give up on something you love.

Break in reverie, life around us proceeds. We scramble to find seats. I see someone I know in the crowd; my hand subconsciously slips out of yours, I smile, wave at her, gesture that I am seating with you – going to find a seat with you, and proceed forward in your trail; I never liked her much anyway, she reminds of barbie dolls (unnaturally flawless, fake, pretends to love you/nah not really). Moving a few rows front, there are two empty seats available – ah, not good, I know the other three people in the row as well. No time. We sit.

My hand finds yours once again. The other one now; my right, your left. I have never been accustomed to being right. But I guess, with you, it is alright. You whisper to me, I heard they know about us. With my gaze fixed to the front of the hall, I do not respond. About us. I reply, slowly, but we aren’t anything, are we? I hear the beginnings of your smile once again. Of course. We aren’t. Your fingers curl comfortably around mine, and it feels like you and I are both being held safely in the small space between both our palms. I shift myself subtly towards you.

Stop worrying, you did well. Your voice, your presence; my anxiety settles. My breathing is stable. I feel your constant inhales and exhales as I rest my head against your shoulder. My eyelids are heavy and everything around me seemingly fades to grey. Thumb on back of hand, has time stopped yet? You gently tighten your grip around my hand. (Thank you for being there.) Never give up on something you love. I love you, I whisper as I drift off to sleep.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

--

[As strange as it sounds, the above comes from a very vivid dream I had. And what I found interesting was, the moment I drifted off to sleep within my dream was the moment I woke up in real life. Pretty mind-blowing stuff! Anyway, here’s my attempt at making something so transient a little more permanent.]

Your smile, and the sound of your voice/
And the way you see through me./
Got a feeling, you give me no choice/
But it means a lot to me./
So I wanna know/
What's the name of the game?

(Decided to split my posts tonight – here’s more post ‘fiction’ rambling, non-fiction style)

The IB results came out at the start of this week, and SURPRISE! Mega sob fest with a free bag of disappointment and self-loathing for everyone help your to it don’t be shy. It was insane – so much for coping eh? Seriously, pathetic. I was a complete wreck; it is quite hilarious actually, in retrospect. So much drama.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall. I guess it works the same with expectations. My expectations were so darn high that coming back down from them just dealt the biggest blow ever. The moment I saw the ‘2’ on total score portion of my slip, I lost it. I am talking full-on emotional upheaval bawling kind of lost it. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so badly in public before; hell, I don’t think I’ve ever cried in front of anyone!

Of course, gigantic shock for every single person present who has never seen this side of me before. (HAHA once again, quite funny.) In a huge way, I am glad that the first person who found me was Doreen; she really helped me calm down a lot. As true as what Ruth said, no one else could handle me. (HAHAHA see, it is really quite funny.) The moment when she said, Ah I get it, you’re a perfectionist aren’t you? In my head, I was like, WHAT no way, no one gets me in this manner but Ruth Tai because Ruth Tai truly gets GETS the way I function/work. But Ruth Tai comforting me, now THAT would have been the funniest event of the day. Post-breakdown, when she told me the thoughts (by that I mean JOKES) she had, really man, comforting level cmi.

Doreen told me this little part of the story from Journey to the West: When the characters (4 of them? 5??) were reaching the end of their journey, there was a point where the scriptures they were all carrying fell into some lake (river? pond??). And while they were able to savage most of the documents, there was one that got caught on some rock (??) and could not be retrieved. The gang was upset but could not get the last piece back no matter how they tried. When they questioned the deity (buddha? god??) figure of their failure, they were told that this is how it was meant to be. They could not understand how this could be the case. And the deity responded, imperfections exist because everything is not perfect (or something la this retelling is a real flop). Moral is, screw perfection it’s bull.

Okay, her rendition was a lot more eloquent and confident than the one I just made up above. While I would love to believe that perfection exists and is attainable, she definitely succeeded in distracting me from my sorrows (hur hur) and calming me down with that. That’s why I say, she is MY ROCK. Truly someone who has seen me through my best, my worst, and my ugliest.

On hindsight, I think the true reason why I was SOoooOoooO upset is that the disappointment was cumulative. As evident in a post I wrote a (long) while back, every major exam I have taken thus far in my life has left me slightly sore and, for a lack of a better word, disappointed. In some ways, perhaps it works the same way as grief and general sadness. If you don’t let it run its course, it does not go away.

Now that we’re past that, I really wonder where life will take me next. Let the eternal pursuit for perfection continue….

--

“forget your perfect offering; there's a crack in everything. that's how the light gets in.” – words of wisdom from kit

How are you going to cope if you don’t achieve what you expect tomorrow?

Don’t hold high expectations – fuck it, don’t have expectations at all. Without expectations, there won’t be disappointment. Yes we’ve heard this one too many times. I’m are honestly VERY scared for the results release tomorrow. I know I will be disappointed; it can’t be help I guess, I want too much. And a part of me thinks I do not deserve what I want.

As much as I want to be optimistic right now, I’m really not feeling it. Dealing with the disappointment is going to be the worst. The thing I dread the most is that heart-sinking feeling you get when you receive news that you weren’t expecting; especially when it is expectations failed to be met. Just got to deal……

I dyed my hair a few days before 2014 closed. Did a layer of red at the back of my head, on the ‘inside’. I have always wanted it to be red or dark pink, and I think there is no better time to have it.

Red is the colour of new leaves that grow on the top most layer of plants, above the cluster of lush green. I don’t know if this happens for all plants/trees (???) but it sure does for the ones along the road from the bus stop to my house. I first noticed this one day when I was walking home during my prelims season. It was interesting to observe the way these red leaves would appear, before gradually fading to a uniform green over the course of approximately a week; I managed to witness the subtle changes of every passing day. I remember one day in particular where I passed the same bush after it had rained that afternoon; that was the day where the most dramatic change from red to green happened, where the leaves looked vibrant and extremely healthy.

The red of the young leaves signified hope and opportunity for me. Not to intentionally seek for ‘symbols’ or emblems in my surroundings, but they caught my attention at a point of time when I desperately pleaded for a sign to help me continue on. The red came with new life, a form of rebirth but at the same time continuation. I liked this idea very much. Till this point, red had always connoted a sense of anger or defiance for me. When I decided to dye part of my hair red, the final decision was catalysed by this image – of the leaves. I saw the red leaves on the plants on the way to the salon.

This sounds like another one of my loony moments, but it comforts me to know a part of this ‘sign’ I received is with me. I especially like the fact that it is mostly hidden, which sort of makes it more personal. (cray cray)

What ever the outcome is tomorrow, I must believe that everything is happening the way it should be. There shall be no self-reproach or blame pushing. There shall be no bitterness or spite. It will be okay, right?

---

The world finds ways to sting you,
And then one day decides to bring you,
Something to believe in.

Aaaaaand, it’s a new year!

The cycle goes on and on and on. It gets to a point when new years appear to be a really weak excuse for a (seemingly) clean slate, fresh start. There’s nothing wrong with that – in fact, it could very well be a good thing. But honestly, if there truly is a need for a new beginning, it is pretty much in our hands to say STOP, let’s do it over, whenever we want to. Of course, we most definitely would not be able to redo things in the most literal sense; but perhaps, it is possible to put down the load and continue on a new path. Nonetheless, it is always nice to have some sort of formality in place; a proper ‘end’ and a big, bright beginning. I’ve always been one for conclusiveness anyway!

Looking back, 2014 has been a long year. Probably more so for me because I have constantly been reading 2013-2014 as one journey in itself. As such, these two years have thus been tied together in my mind; true enough, I didn’t quite feel an end when ‘13 concluded, nor a definitive start to ‘14. Alas, this huge journey finally came to an eventual conclusion when IB ended, mid November.

I must say, it has been a good run! Results are out on the 5th, and frankly, I don’t know what to feel. I know the reaction will be extreme – I’d either be extremely happy, or extremely disappointed. But what’s done is done. I must remember to be thankful, and to keep the chin up and roll on. (channel positive energy)

The greatest challenge of 2014 was maintaining focus, keeping eyes on the prize and relentlessly working towards my goals. Procrastination and self-doubt were the demons in constant battle against iron-willed discipline and tenacity for success.

On the other hand, 2015 poses a whole new ball game. There is no longer a definitive end target; it’s ‘open season’.

May this year be one filled with courage and adventure!

---

The opening mood of this new year teeters between 'yay no school no responsibilities time for fun and freedom THIS IS THE LIFE YALL' liberated happiness AND 'who am I what am I? what do I do with my future? DO I EVEN HAVE A FUTURE' directionless existential crisis full-on emotional upheaval.

As new and more elusive challenges await, may this year be one of self-discovery and heightened optimism. Even for others who are in positions unlike mine, let us embrace the spirit of positivity and possibility. 2015 shall be the year where we experience all the things that we have always wanted to try but never did; confront all the fears that we have always recognized but never surmounted; and rightly express all the (pleasant) thoughts that we have entertained but never executed.

So into the woods you go again,
You have to every now and then.
Into the woods, no telling when,
Be ready for the journey.

“You want to hold my hand?” I turn my head to look – at you. I realise my fingers are resting dangerously close to yours. Our arms brush; no, it’s just fabric against fabric. A smile dances at the corner of my lips, as the one on yours. The meeting of eyes; we each let out a small muffled laugh at the synchronicity of our thoughts. Looking back to the front of the room, I start humming the Beatles song (I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand). I can feel you smiling beside me; your way of telling me you were just thinking the exact same thing. You love the Beatles, you love the oldies, old but gold ain’t that right; yes I know, I do too.

Our hands fit together nicely, strangely at first yet very rightly so. There is something about the familiarity of placement indicative of how right it feels. Fingers intertwined, hearts strummed as one. We walk down the steps along the aisle of the lecture hall. The many people around us seem to be moving quickly and slowly, sort of like a recorded tape that is alternately being accelerated and rewound and replayed in slow motion again and again. Their actions reminiscent to that of moving underwater; the sounds around us appear muted.

I joke that your hand is a lot smoother than I expected so. You quip. You claim that is an insult. We share another tiny laugh. It feels like we are in our own detached space. I rub my thumb on the edge of your hand; you give my palm a little squeeze: I am here for you. The non-verbal communication aspect of our bond always worked better (ironic for a pair fundamentally connected by the love for literature and linguistics).

You lean in and walk extremely close to me, as you always do – did. Do. I can recognise your scent, even here; it makes me want to stay around you forever; it is a comforting sense. My senses are always acute when I am around you, I want to feel every bit of feeling that I feel in every moment. Remember the time I told you about how I had trouble learning ‘how to feel’ when I first started doing literature? You told me to keep at it; never give up on something you love.

Break in reverie, life around us proceeds. We scramble to find seats. I see someone I know in the crowd; my hand subconsciously slips out of yours, I smile, wave at her, gesture that I am seating with you – going to find a seat with you, and proceed forward in your trail; I never liked her much anyway, she reminds of barbie dolls (unnaturally flawless, fake, pretends to love you/nah not really). Moving a few rows front, there are two empty seats available – ah, not good, I know the other three people in the row as well. No time. We sit.

My hand finds yours once again. The other one now; my right, your left. I have never been accustomed to being right. But I guess, with you, it is alright. You whisper to me, I heard they know about us. With my gaze fixed to the front of the hall, I do not respond. About us. I reply, slowly, but we aren’t anything, are we? I hear the beginnings of your smile once again. Of course. We aren’t. Your fingers curl comfortably around mine, and it feels like you and I are both being held safely in the small space between both our palms. I shift myself subtly towards you.

Stop worrying, you did well. Your voice, your presence; my anxiety settles. My breathing is stable. I feel your constant inhales and exhales as I rest my head against your shoulder. My eyelids are heavy and everything around me seemingly fades to grey. Thumb on back of hand, has time stopped yet? You gently tighten your grip around my hand. (Thank you for being there.) Never give up on something you love. I love you, I whisper as I drift off to sleep.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

--

[As strange as it sounds, the above comes from a very vivid dream I had. And what I found interesting was, the moment I drifted off to sleep within my dream was the moment I woke up in real life. Pretty mind-blowing stuff! Anyway, here’s my attempt at making something so transient a little more permanent.]

Your smile, and the sound of your voice/
And the way you see through me./
Got a feeling, you give me no choice/
But it means a lot to me./
So I wanna know/
What's the name of the game?

(Decided to split my posts tonight – here’s more post ‘fiction’ rambling, non-fiction style)

The IB results came out at the start of this week, and SURPRISE! Mega sob fest with a free bag of disappointment and self-loathing for everyone help your to it don’t be shy. It was insane – so much for coping eh? Seriously, pathetic. I was a complete wreck; it is quite hilarious actually, in retrospect. So much drama.

The higher you climb, the harder you fall. I guess it works the same with expectations. My expectations were so darn high that coming back down from them just dealt the biggest blow ever. The moment I saw the ‘2’ on total score portion of my slip, I lost it. I am talking full-on emotional upheaval bawling kind of lost it. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so badly in public before; hell, I don’t think I’ve ever cried in front of anyone!

Of course, gigantic shock for every single person present who has never seen this side of me before. (HAHA once again, quite funny.) In a huge way, I am glad that the first person who found me was Doreen; she really helped me calm down a lot. As true as what Ruth said, no one else could handle me. (HAHAHA see, it is really quite funny.) The moment when she said, Ah I get it, you’re a perfectionist aren’t you? In my head, I was like, WHAT no way, no one gets me in this manner but Ruth Tai because Ruth Tai truly gets GETS the way I function/work. But Ruth Tai comforting me, now THAT would have been the funniest event of the day. Post-breakdown, when she told me the thoughts (by that I mean JOKES) she had, really man, comforting level cmi.

Doreen told me this little part of the story from Journey to the West: When the characters (4 of them? 5??) were reaching the end of their journey, there was a point where the scriptures they were all carrying fell into some lake (river? pond??). And while they were able to savage most of the documents, there was one that got caught on some rock (??) and could not be retrieved. The gang was upset but could not get the last piece back no matter how they tried. When they questioned the deity (buddha? god??) figure of their failure, they were told that this is how it was meant to be. They could not understand how this could be the case. And the deity responded, imperfections exist because everything is not perfect (or something la this retelling is a real flop). Moral is, screw perfection it’s bull.

Okay, her rendition was a lot more eloquent and confident than the one I just made up above. While I would love to believe that perfection exists and is attainable, she definitely succeeded in distracting me from my sorrows (hur hur) and calming me down with that. That’s why I say, she is MY ROCK. Truly someone who has seen me through my best, my worst, and my ugliest.

On hindsight, I think the true reason why I was SOoooOoooO upset is that the disappointment was cumulative. As evident in a post I wrote a (long) while back, every major exam I have taken thus far in my life has left me slightly sore and, for a lack of a better word, disappointed. In some ways, perhaps it works the same way as grief and general sadness. If you don’t let it run its course, it does not go away.

Now that we’re past that, I really wonder where life will take me next. Let the eternal pursuit for perfection continue….

--

“forget your perfect offering; there's a crack in everything. that's how the light gets in.” – words of wisdom from kit

How are you going to cope if you don’t achieve what you expect tomorrow?

Don’t hold high expectations – fuck it, don’t have expectations at all. Without expectations, there won’t be disappointment. Yes we’ve heard this one too many times. I’m are honestly VERY scared for the results release tomorrow. I know I will be disappointed; it can’t be help I guess, I want too much. And a part of me thinks I do not deserve what I want.

As much as I want to be optimistic right now, I’m really not feeling it. Dealing with the disappointment is going to be the worst. The thing I dread the most is that heart-sinking feeling you get when you receive news that you weren’t expecting; especially when it is expectations failed to be met. Just got to deal……

I dyed my hair a few days before 2014 closed. Did a layer of red at the back of my head, on the ‘inside’. I have always wanted it to be red or dark pink, and I think there is no better time to have it.

Red is the colour of new leaves that grow on the top most layer of plants, above the cluster of lush green. I don’t know if this happens for all plants/trees (???) but it sure does for the ones along the road from the bus stop to my house. I first noticed this one day when I was walking home during my prelims season. It was interesting to observe the way these red leaves would appear, before gradually fading to a uniform green over the course of approximately a week; I managed to witness the subtle changes of every passing day. I remember one day in particular where I passed the same bush after it had rained that afternoon; that was the day where the most dramatic change from red to green happened, where the leaves looked vibrant and extremely healthy.

The red of the young leaves signified hope and opportunity for me. Not to intentionally seek for ‘symbols’ or emblems in my surroundings, but they caught my attention at a point of time when I desperately pleaded for a sign to help me continue on. The red came with new life, a form of rebirth but at the same time continuation. I liked this idea very much. Till this point, red had always connoted a sense of anger or defiance for me. When I decided to dye part of my hair red, the final decision was catalysed by this image – of the leaves. I saw the red leaves on the plants on the way to the salon.

This sounds like another one of my loony moments, but it comforts me to know a part of this ‘sign’ I received is with me. I especially like the fact that it is mostly hidden, which sort of makes it more personal. (cray cray)

What ever the outcome is tomorrow, I must believe that everything is happening the way it should be. There shall be no self-reproach or blame pushing. There shall be no bitterness or spite. It will be okay, right?

---

The world finds ways to sting you,
And then one day decides to bring you,
Something to believe in.

Aaaaaand, it’s a new year!

The cycle goes on and on and on. It gets to a point when new years appear to be a really weak excuse for a (seemingly) clean slate, fresh start. There’s nothing wrong with that – in fact, it could very well be a good thing. But honestly, if there truly is a need for a new beginning, it is pretty much in our hands to say STOP, let’s do it over, whenever we want to. Of course, we most definitely would not be able to redo things in the most literal sense; but perhaps, it is possible to put down the load and continue on a new path. Nonetheless, it is always nice to have some sort of formality in place; a proper ‘end’ and a big, bright beginning. I’ve always been one for conclusiveness anyway!

Looking back, 2014 has been a long year. Probably more so for me because I have constantly been reading 2013-2014 as one journey in itself. As such, these two years have thus been tied together in my mind; true enough, I didn’t quite feel an end when ‘13 concluded, nor a definitive start to ‘14. Alas, this huge journey finally came to an eventual conclusion when IB ended, mid November.

I must say, it has been a good run! Results are out on the 5th, and frankly, I don’t know what to feel. I know the reaction will be extreme – I’d either be extremely happy, or extremely disappointed. But what’s done is done. I must remember to be thankful, and to keep the chin up and roll on. (channel positive energy)

The greatest challenge of 2014 was maintaining focus, keeping eyes on the prize and relentlessly working towards my goals. Procrastination and self-doubt were the demons in constant battle against iron-willed discipline and tenacity for success.

On the other hand, 2015 poses a whole new ball game. There is no longer a definitive end target; it’s ‘open season’.

May this year be one filled with courage and adventure!

---

The opening mood of this new year teeters between 'yay no school no responsibilities time for fun and freedom THIS IS THE LIFE YALL' liberated happiness AND 'who am I what am I? what do I do with my future? DO I EVEN HAVE A FUTURE' directionless existential crisis full-on emotional upheaval.

As new and more elusive challenges await, may this year be one of self-discovery and heightened optimism. Even for others who are in positions unlike mine, let us embrace the spirit of positivity and possibility. 2015 shall be the year where we experience all the things that we have always wanted to try but never did; confront all the fears that we have always recognized but never surmounted; and rightly express all the (pleasant) thoughts that we have entertained but never executed.

So into the woods you go again,
You have to every now and then.
Into the woods, no telling when,
Be ready for the journey.