i don't know why, but till this time and day i'm still feeling it.
the kind of small, sad disappointment when i feel like i'm being exploited.
i don't know why, really.
is it because i am strong?
loh joon kit laughed when i said 'i am strong, i think i'm quite strong. like physically.'
isn't it true?
i still remember hadrian chin said,
'wenlin, you must join rag ah, if not who will help the guys carry the 5 ply and 2 by 2?'
i don't know, really.
is it because i don't look girly enough? because i'm not hot, pretty, girly; not like other girls who know their limits, who leave the heavy work to guys?
i want to be strong because i don't want to be weak, don't want to depend on others, don't want to be looked down upon, to have to be the weaker sex.
but it makes me sad,
just a little,
when they treat me like this.
maybe i act too much like a man.
yeah, maybe.
that's only because nobody has made me feel like a girl before.
which is why i felt different, that you treated me like a girl, that things were different, that i felt it was kind of okay if i didn't have to try so hard to be so tough.
i think i will miss it.
because i don't think i'll be getting much of this in future.
-----------------------------------------
and no matter how many times wayne says i'm a D now, things are different now,
in my heart, i still struggle, and think to myself,
i'm not cut out for this.
Friday, 29 August 2008
it's rather random,
but i just realised that pretty people really have an advantage when it comes to doing stuff like D.
cause you see, if they do the wrong move, forget a step, do a wrong turn, stick out the wrong leg, whatever, they just look cute.
and if they get it right, they just look pretty and glamourous.
these, and many other smaller, mundane things,
are things that bother me in between the small moments when i'm free in life.
realisation dawned upon me rather late.
-------------------------------------------
atas?
now that i've managed to overcome this huge mental barrier/internal struggle/self-inflicted conflict/whatever you may call it,
i'm not really thinking about the outcome, the results, the aftermath, whatever.
i mean, if i was really so bothered by the outcome, i'd be really pleased by the comments and feedback, and probably troubled and all, considering my commitments for the coming year, my responsibilities and obligations, and worried about my CAP, given the various things i signed myself up for.
it doesn't really matter what other people say about it, how i did, how it was, whatever.
because ultimately i was the one standing in my way.
not you, not him, not her, not us, not them, not the D people, not the people the D people hang out with, not anyone else.
it was always myself.
and i finally did it, broke the ice, kicked the stone away, untied the knot.
it doesn't matter where i go, what i do.
i will remember where i belong, what my calling is, who my group of friends are.
i may be somewhere else,
but i don't think i'll ever forget,
where my heart lies, ultimately, in the end.
somehow,
i dislike it when people call me the D word.
be it praise, compliment, tease, poking fun,
i just don't like it.
because to me, D people are, most certainly,
yes, atas.
and that, i certainly am not, and will never be.
but.
i get the feeling this is only the beginning.
okay,
so what now?
but i just realised that pretty people really have an advantage when it comes to doing stuff like D.
cause you see, if they do the wrong move, forget a step, do a wrong turn, stick out the wrong leg, whatever, they just look cute.
and if they get it right, they just look pretty and glamourous.
these, and many other smaller, mundane things,
are things that bother me in between the small moments when i'm free in life.
realisation dawned upon me rather late.
-------------------------------------------
atas?
now that i've managed to overcome this huge mental barrier/internal struggle/self-inflicted conflict/whatever you may call it,
i'm not really thinking about the outcome, the results, the aftermath, whatever.
i mean, if i was really so bothered by the outcome, i'd be really pleased by the comments and feedback, and probably troubled and all, considering my commitments for the coming year, my responsibilities and obligations, and worried about my CAP, given the various things i signed myself up for.
it doesn't really matter what other people say about it, how i did, how it was, whatever.
because ultimately i was the one standing in my way.
not you, not him, not her, not us, not them, not the D people, not the people the D people hang out with, not anyone else.
it was always myself.
and i finally did it, broke the ice, kicked the stone away, untied the knot.
it doesn't matter where i go, what i do.
i will remember where i belong, what my calling is, who my group of friends are.
i may be somewhere else,
but i don't think i'll ever forget,
where my heart lies, ultimately, in the end.
somehow,
i dislike it when people call me the D word.
be it praise, compliment, tease, poking fun,
i just don't like it.
because to me, D people are, most certainly,
yes, atas.
and that, i certainly am not, and will never be.
but.
i get the feeling this is only the beginning.
okay,
so what now?
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
it still disappoints me how much people want so badly to be a performer, rather than the ones silently working, supporting, providing the stage.
it disgusts me, eats at my self, my whole, my thoughts.
a part of me, ex-dancer, ex-chorister [now chorister again!], cannot deny that.
how bright the limelight can be,
how loud the sound of your pounding heart can be,
how high you can ride on the gush of adrenaline,
how proud your stride will be,
how strong the feeling can be, how convincing, how deep.
but a part of me, a part of my pride,
stronger,
more stubborn,
more clear,
stands by, stead fast.
in what i've grown to believe in.
despite how people fail to appreciate it, see it, acknowledge it, acknowledge us.
when the curtains close, and the performers burst out, chattering in excitement,
we stand in the shadows, quietly, silently, patiently, firmly,
a smile, a heave of relief, a gentle sigh,
i don't know.
it confuses me, sometimes.
my heart lies in too many places, but my aligences are clear, and i only have one pair of feet and one pair of hands to live with.
------------------------------------
when i sang today, eyebrows lifted, cheekbones high, mouth open, with a slight smile at the ends, i felt a warmth gush through me, as my head voice lifted the note high above, exactly where i imagined it.
ah,
懐かしい。
この気持ち。。。憶えてる。
and the feeling of my diagphragm, and the wonder of it at work;
it was like i was 13 again;
standing inside the seminar room, nervously holding my hands,
as miss tham's fingers moved across the piano, and the notes soared higher and higher, in my mind i told myself i wouldn't make it. then she smiled and told me to relax, and that i could reach much higher.
it was like i was 17 again;
and you were by my side, chew hui ghee,
your voice, warm, comforting, your posture, your facial expression, perfect,
your eyes, focused and oh-so-serious,
my eyes, full of awe, full of joy, full of contentment.
just to be able to sing by your side.
by your side.
thomas, ben, eugene, huey, screw, shermaine, ck, shaun, rambutan,....
what i would give to go again, to germany, with you,
to sing in that catherdral, on that very day,
our spirits, lifted,
our voices, soaring,
our faces, smiling.
what i would give to sing again, with you,
silly little tunes, with nonsense sounds,
12-part arrangements, with crazy ranges,
2 or 1 people sections,
and fancy hotels, with nice smelling lobbies,
weird santas, and curious caucasians,
christmas carolling, and supper after.
i miss singing.
i know.
hello,
welcome back. :)
it disgusts me, eats at my self, my whole, my thoughts.
a part of me, ex-dancer, ex-chorister [now chorister again!], cannot deny that.
how bright the limelight can be,
how loud the sound of your pounding heart can be,
how high you can ride on the gush of adrenaline,
how proud your stride will be,
how strong the feeling can be, how convincing, how deep.
but a part of me, a part of my pride,
stronger,
more stubborn,
more clear,
stands by, stead fast.
in what i've grown to believe in.
despite how people fail to appreciate it, see it, acknowledge it, acknowledge us.
when the curtains close, and the performers burst out, chattering in excitement,
we stand in the shadows, quietly, silently, patiently, firmly,
a smile, a heave of relief, a gentle sigh,
i don't know.
it confuses me, sometimes.
my heart lies in too many places, but my aligences are clear, and i only have one pair of feet and one pair of hands to live with.
------------------------------------
when i sang today, eyebrows lifted, cheekbones high, mouth open, with a slight smile at the ends, i felt a warmth gush through me, as my head voice lifted the note high above, exactly where i imagined it.
ah,
懐かしい。
この気持ち。。。憶えてる。
and the feeling of my diagphragm, and the wonder of it at work;
it was like i was 13 again;
standing inside the seminar room, nervously holding my hands,
as miss tham's fingers moved across the piano, and the notes soared higher and higher, in my mind i told myself i wouldn't make it. then she smiled and told me to relax, and that i could reach much higher.
it was like i was 17 again;
and you were by my side, chew hui ghee,
your voice, warm, comforting, your posture, your facial expression, perfect,
your eyes, focused and oh-so-serious,
my eyes, full of awe, full of joy, full of contentment.
just to be able to sing by your side.
by your side.
thomas, ben, eugene, huey, screw, shermaine, ck, shaun, rambutan,....
what i would give to go again, to germany, with you,
to sing in that catherdral, on that very day,
our spirits, lifted,
our voices, soaring,
our faces, smiling.
what i would give to sing again, with you,
silly little tunes, with nonsense sounds,
12-part arrangements, with crazy ranges,
2 or 1 people sections,
and fancy hotels, with nice smelling lobbies,
weird santas, and curious caucasians,
christmas carolling, and supper after.
i miss singing.
i know.
hello,
welcome back. :)
a picture says a thousand words, so let them speak for themselves.
and, finally,
and i don't have many photos, but the raggers,
my raggers,
surprised me and my roomie with a birthday cake and card and serenaded us [courtesy of hartono widijaya] and also surprised us with very sweet and albeit somewhat 可笑しい presents.
yes, i received a new 'shinai' for my birthday, complete with gold-encrypted birthday wishes and full-fledged detailings, courtesy of lau hong jin, law joon kit, malaysia.
thanks to roomie for the card, your listening to my random mumbling everyday, to sabah boy for the domokun, for tolerating my nonsense and lame jokes before and after and during training, "さすが大著ですね。"^__________^ thanks to xian and shu for the wonderful domokun surprise; i swear i ll wear it to class! thanks to km for the shinai surprise, thanks to everyone from nuskc for the birthday surprise, thanks to lihong for being one day and one year my senior :) thanks to wei and miao for the beautiful, wonderful surprise, thanks to my sis for the 40 dollar kendo and kenjitsu book [which i had no intention of buying but should very much have the intention of reading, gauging by the hefty price tag], thanks to my other sis for tolerating my nonsense for 17 years and listening to me whine and giving in to my whims and needs, thanks to everyone for the well wishes,
most of all,
thanks to my parents for bringing me to this world.
corny as that sounds.
thanks guys, because these, i will keep close to my heart.
----------------------------------------
you can't imagine how much i like this picture, and how much i know how wrong it is, and it shouldn't be, but it's my secret, and i'll never let you know about it.
Monday, 25 August 2008
Sunday, 24 August 2008
things didnt go that well today. yesterday actually, since its sunday morning now.
maybe i should have just stayed at home.
but in the end they turned out okay.
i mean, i got to eat some random stuff, though the candied apple was sold out, i managed to shamelessly kope a green yoyo-balloon ball, i saw nagami sensei [SENSEI >__________<], i saw somebody with a really nice nose [which i attempted to pursue discreetly and photograph but did not succeed at, much to my disgruntlement], i watched some random performances, and i also received domokun.
DOMOKUN.
the only thing that can ever come close would probably be a bass-sounding stupid pink starfish with colourful boxer shorts and an honest name.
patrick.
domo.
domo,
どーも君。
that's a highlight of the week that will keep me deliriously happy for a while.
let me snort in excitement and content as i have my private moment eyeing him.
ah, the wonder.
maybe i should have just stayed at home.
but in the end they turned out okay.
i mean, i got to eat some random stuff, though the candied apple was sold out, i managed to shamelessly kope a green yoyo-balloon ball, i saw nagami sensei [SENSEI >__________<], i saw somebody with a really nice nose [which i attempted to pursue discreetly and photograph but did not succeed at, much to my disgruntlement], i watched some random performances, and i also received domokun.
DOMOKUN.
the only thing that can ever come close would probably be a bass-sounding stupid pink starfish with colourful boxer shorts and an honest name.
patrick.
domo.
domo,
どーも君。
that's a highlight of the week that will keep me deliriously happy for a while.
let me snort in excitement and content as i have my private moment eyeing him.
ah, the wonder.
Saturday, 23 August 2008
this is for soohf, my roomie, who has turned 21 today.
she is one year my junior, but much to her disgruntlement, one day older than i.
happybirthday to you.
-----------------------------------
i'm glad things went okay overall, and that everyone seems to be happy.
but being me,
as always,
it's hard not to be hard on myself.
i can't deny, that for some moments, in between, i was squirming inside, and wondering what the hell was i doing, why things couldn't be done better, why i couldn't have had the foresight, couldn't be more wise, couldn't lead the committee to fulfill their full potential.
sometimes it's a little discouraging, a lot hard.
sometimes i feel like this responsibility is too heavy, much to hard to carry,
and that these shoes are far too big to fill; a size mine could never become,
but your hugs encourage me, your presence assures me, that we carry this together,
your words warm me, comfort me, inspire me.
thank you guys, for everything.
i'm just glad the busy week is over.
time for a small, small little break.
this break is so nice, so promising, so hopeful, that it almost feels like its stolen.
a stolen afternoon.
and a lazy sunday morning.
boy, i can't wait.
she is one year my junior, but much to her disgruntlement, one day older than i.
happybirthday to you.
-----------------------------------
i'm glad things went okay overall, and that everyone seems to be happy.
but being me,
as always,
it's hard not to be hard on myself.
i can't deny, that for some moments, in between, i was squirming inside, and wondering what the hell was i doing, why things couldn't be done better, why i couldn't have had the foresight, couldn't be more wise, couldn't lead the committee to fulfill their full potential.
sometimes it's a little discouraging, a lot hard.
sometimes i feel like this responsibility is too heavy, much to hard to carry,
and that these shoes are far too big to fill; a size mine could never become,
but your hugs encourage me, your presence assures me, that we carry this together,
your words warm me, comfort me, inspire me.
thank you guys, for everything.
i'm just glad the busy week is over.
time for a small, small little break.
this break is so nice, so promising, so hopeful, that it almost feels like its stolen.
a stolen afternoon.
and a lazy sunday morning.
boy, i can't wait.
Friday, 22 August 2008
i don't know the point of things now.
it's like everything is too late, there's no turning back now, no room for regret.
whatever choices you've made, whatever responsibilities i've taken up.
why even bother now?
things are different now.
we are no longer as we were, and could never be.
these things shouldn't bother me, i know, but it annoys me that they do.
sometimes in life we wait patiently for things to happen,
and when they do not turn out as expected, we take things in our stride and move on.
there's no room for wallowing in regret.
because there's no way i'm waiting any longer.
---------------------------------------------------
this weekend is a happy one, because i received 6 coloured balloons yesterday.
some people may think it's rather despicable to give away presents given to you, but contrary to this, i believe that it's really sharing the joy, because it's like spreading a nice warm feeling around. it's like it's winter time and it's snowing, and you see a cold person, and you loosen your scarf so that it can wrap around both of your necks. or like a rainy day and you have an umbrella and you see someone stuck in the rain, and then you offer to share the umbrella.
something like that, anyway.
so i gave 4 balloons away, to the 4 girls who have touched me the most since i have entered hall.
and i have 2 left with me; one of the two, a white one.
no prizes for guessing what the colour of the other balloon is, *wide grin*
i think i'll set the balloon free.
find an open space, this saturday morning maybe;
it's something i've always wanted to do.
balloons are not the cheapest things; understandably adults always instruct their children to hold on tight to their balloons and make sure their grip never loosens, but somehow, as a child, i always felt there was a thrill associated with the feeling of my fingers loosening it's grip on the string, and the sensation of feeling the balloon slowly slip away from my fingers.
it's like something uncontrollable, something free.
when the balloon escapes, there's an undeniable disappointment, but at the same time, i can't help but feel happy and comforted for the balloon, because finally, in the end, it is able to escape it's fate; able to avoid being held on to forever; avoid having to shrivel up and wither away; avoid having to be placed carelessly or treated abusively; avoid the sad fate of bursting into bits and pieces of nothingness.
somehow balloons make me happy and sad at the same time.
it's quite remarkable, this little thing.
thank you darell, weiling, for being there, all 5 going on 6 years of our friendship,
and for all the little surprises, and bigger ones in between.
this weekend is packed, and i'm kind of half-dreading-half-damn-excited about the welcome session later, but, honestly, my brain tells me that, all i really, really, really, want to do is to screw classes, screw hall, screw school, screw my commitments and escape to somewhere quiet and sleep a hell lot, just for a while.
it's okay if i don't get to eat.
as long as i can sleep, or do nothing at all.
did i tell you?
my idea of an ideal holiday?
i would do absolutely nothing at all.
it's like everything is too late, there's no turning back now, no room for regret.
whatever choices you've made, whatever responsibilities i've taken up.
why even bother now?
things are different now.
we are no longer as we were, and could never be.
these things shouldn't bother me, i know, but it annoys me that they do.
sometimes in life we wait patiently for things to happen,
and when they do not turn out as expected, we take things in our stride and move on.
there's no room for wallowing in regret.
because there's no way i'm waiting any longer.
---------------------------------------------------
this weekend is a happy one, because i received 6 coloured balloons yesterday.
some people may think it's rather despicable to give away presents given to you, but contrary to this, i believe that it's really sharing the joy, because it's like spreading a nice warm feeling around. it's like it's winter time and it's snowing, and you see a cold person, and you loosen your scarf so that it can wrap around both of your necks. or like a rainy day and you have an umbrella and you see someone stuck in the rain, and then you offer to share the umbrella.
something like that, anyway.
so i gave 4 balloons away, to the 4 girls who have touched me the most since i have entered hall.
and i have 2 left with me; one of the two, a white one.
no prizes for guessing what the colour of the other balloon is, *wide grin*
i think i'll set the balloon free.
find an open space, this saturday morning maybe;
it's something i've always wanted to do.
balloons are not the cheapest things; understandably adults always instruct their children to hold on tight to their balloons and make sure their grip never loosens, but somehow, as a child, i always felt there was a thrill associated with the feeling of my fingers loosening it's grip on the string, and the sensation of feeling the balloon slowly slip away from my fingers.
it's like something uncontrollable, something free.
when the balloon escapes, there's an undeniable disappointment, but at the same time, i can't help but feel happy and comforted for the balloon, because finally, in the end, it is able to escape it's fate; able to avoid being held on to forever; avoid having to shrivel up and wither away; avoid having to be placed carelessly or treated abusively; avoid the sad fate of bursting into bits and pieces of nothingness.
somehow balloons make me happy and sad at the same time.
it's quite remarkable, this little thing.
thank you darell, weiling, for being there, all 5 going on 6 years of our friendship,
and for all the little surprises, and bigger ones in between.
this weekend is packed, and i'm kind of half-dreading-half-damn-excited about the welcome session later, but, honestly, my brain tells me that, all i really, really, really, want to do is to screw classes, screw hall, screw school, screw my commitments and escape to somewhere quiet and sleep a hell lot, just for a while.
it's okay if i don't get to eat.
as long as i can sleep, or do nothing at all.
did i tell you?
my idea of an ideal holiday?
i would do absolutely nothing at all.
Wednesday, 20 August 2008
i bought vegetable crackers and ate half of them last night, but i only just realised what i really wanted was prawn crackers.
damn, i'm missing the keropok taste.
and this box of cheapo belgium chocolates is damn scary.
i just opened it and i killed 4 already.
i'm taping it up now, because,
last time i remember,
i killed one box in 1 hour while watching the telly.
damn, i'm missing the keropok taste.
and this box of cheapo belgium chocolates is damn scary.
i just opened it and i killed 4 already.
i'm taping it up now, because,
last time i remember,
i killed one box in 1 hour while watching the telly.
Monday, 18 August 2008
sometimes i think about mundane things, in between cat naps on long bus rides; at home, during commercials when the teevee is on; between boring complaints and conversations with random people.
i always think,
why is it that when a ugly person stalks you, it's scary and disgusting and creepy, but when it's a tall dark handsome young fellow, you feel appreciated and honored and that he's a hopeless romantic?
why is it that when a small-sized girl acts cute it's generally acceptable, when people complain to me and cringe when they see a plus-sized girl act cute?
why is it when a pretty girl tries extra hard to be friendly and sociable, she's seen as earnest and sincere, but when an ugly or not-so-attractive girl tries the same, people seem to see her actions as desperate?
these, and other small things that probably don't really matter.
the world is still too complicated a place for me to understand.
and it still troubles me how much appearances matter to people.
and perhaps, sometimes,
myself included.
i always think,
why is it that when a ugly person stalks you, it's scary and disgusting and creepy, but when it's a tall dark handsome young fellow, you feel appreciated and honored and that he's a hopeless romantic?
why is it that when a small-sized girl acts cute it's generally acceptable, when people complain to me and cringe when they see a plus-sized girl act cute?
why is it when a pretty girl tries extra hard to be friendly and sociable, she's seen as earnest and sincere, but when an ugly or not-so-attractive girl tries the same, people seem to see her actions as desperate?
these, and other small things that probably don't really matter.
the world is still too complicated a place for me to understand.
and it still troubles me how much appearances matter to people.
and perhaps, sometimes,
myself included.
Saturday, 16 August 2008
it's been hard adapting to school, and the timetable, and not having money in my wallet and bank account.
but im slowly beginning to get used to the feeling of being poor.
i get where vijay is coming from. i'm feeling so ashamed i don't really think i could ask for money from my mother anymore. the only thing i can manage is an extremely grateful and guilty look the moment she stuffs cash into my hands right before i announce that the weekend is over and i have to go back to hall.
'is it enough?'
'sure or not?'
im determined that this weekend when i leave, there must not be tears on my face.
i will be tactful, careful, caring.
and i will not mention anything about chingay to my father.
the time is not ripe.
i cannot imagine his disappointment/frustration when the time comes and i have the break the news to him.
somehow things always turn out different from the way you imagine them.
like you know how you look at a menu, decide to get something,
and when it comes, you really just think to yourself,
why the hell did i get this?
and you look over and see the dish your friend ordered,
and you think,
damn.
-------------------------------------------------
if anything, the highlight of the week must have been my first return to kendo training, after n weeks of absence, where n ----------> a very guilt-laden large integer, and, also, not forgetting to mention,
krispy kreme.
i've heard legends of how fluffy and moist it still remains after a 14 hour flight.
of how queues are so long and scary they'd intimidate people but it's worth the wait
of how hoards of people flock to the stores to take pictures of the store.
of how people have sworn off any other kind of donut because kk is simply the best.
i really really really really appreciate it.
and im really really glad i did not miss it for the second time.
how you went out of your way to get them for me :)
and how much you know i heart donuts!
7, going on 8 years of friendship;
the silly times, when we would mess and fool around,
when we shouted and yelled and danced and laughed like we were the only ones in the world;
when we were young, idealistic, cheerful, brimming with hope, with dreams, with ideals;
when we would quarrel, when we would disagree, but things would always turn out alright;
when we grew older, busier, sometimes neglected each other, but knew we were never far, never off each others' minds.
for that reason,
i'm grateful,
for going to that school, for wearing that school uniform, for standing in the courtyard, apprehensive, unsure, shy, excited,
for you, turning around, smiling at me, eyes shining through your black rimmed glasses,
hand offered,
i will always remember what you said,
'hi, my name is hui chiang. what is yours?'
i know i queued 2 hours plus the first time i tried donut factory.
and i got you a dozen last time. and you don't really dig donuts that much.
but you know how much i fancy them.
and you know what?
krispy kreme really is the best. nothing comes close.
it's funny how a mound of dough can make me happy.
even if, just for a while.
thank you, friend.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
i love it how there's always something nice to eat when im home.
how my bed is always nice and soft.
how my sister is always ready to be annoyed.
i'm glad i'm back.
it's been a while.
but im slowly beginning to get used to the feeling of being poor.
i get where vijay is coming from. i'm feeling so ashamed i don't really think i could ask for money from my mother anymore. the only thing i can manage is an extremely grateful and guilty look the moment she stuffs cash into my hands right before i announce that the weekend is over and i have to go back to hall.
'is it enough?'
'sure or not?'
im determined that this weekend when i leave, there must not be tears on my face.
i will be tactful, careful, caring.
and i will not mention anything about chingay to my father.
the time is not ripe.
i cannot imagine his disappointment/frustration when the time comes and i have the break the news to him.
somehow things always turn out different from the way you imagine them.
like you know how you look at a menu, decide to get something,
and when it comes, you really just think to yourself,
why the hell did i get this?
and you look over and see the dish your friend ordered,
and you think,
damn.
-------------------------------------------------
if anything, the highlight of the week must have been my first return to kendo training, after n weeks of absence, where n ----------> a very guilt-laden large integer, and, also, not forgetting to mention,
krispy kreme.
i've heard legends of how fluffy and moist it still remains after a 14 hour flight.
of how queues are so long and scary they'd intimidate people but it's worth the wait
of how hoards of people flock to the stores to take pictures of the store.
of how people have sworn off any other kind of donut because kk is simply the best.
i really really really really appreciate it.
and im really really glad i did not miss it for the second time.
how you went out of your way to get them for me :)
and how much you know i heart donuts!
7, going on 8 years of friendship;
the silly times, when we would mess and fool around,
when we shouted and yelled and danced and laughed like we were the only ones in the world;
when we were young, idealistic, cheerful, brimming with hope, with dreams, with ideals;
when we would quarrel, when we would disagree, but things would always turn out alright;
when we grew older, busier, sometimes neglected each other, but knew we were never far, never off each others' minds.
for that reason,
i'm grateful,
for going to that school, for wearing that school uniform, for standing in the courtyard, apprehensive, unsure, shy, excited,
for you, turning around, smiling at me, eyes shining through your black rimmed glasses,
hand offered,
i will always remember what you said,
'hi, my name is hui chiang. what is yours?'
i know i queued 2 hours plus the first time i tried donut factory.
and i got you a dozen last time. and you don't really dig donuts that much.
but you know how much i fancy them.
and you know what?
krispy kreme really is the best. nothing comes close.
it's funny how a mound of dough can make me happy.
even if, just for a while.
thank you, friend.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
i love it how there's always something nice to eat when im home.
how my bed is always nice and soft.
how my sister is always ready to be annoyed.
i'm glad i'm back.
it's been a while.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
just when i was about to get over things, pick up the pieces, ready myself to study and be focused.
i realise, when people call it a post moterm, or trash-out session, really stupid things can come out of their mouths. which is why i chose to keep mine shut, mostly.
i'm feeling quite fed up with this.
jaded, pissed, whatever adjective you can find to describe it.
madeline expressed her shock at hearing me say the fuck word three times so forcefully for the first time throughout rag. indeed, not many things can bring me down to that level to be so miffed to produce such an unnecessary word.
for one thing,
i'd like to clarify matters, maybe with myself.
rag was a whole lot of fun this year, because i got to play with detailings, colours, painting, some engineering, costume design, and to hang around this bunch of people, though most of them are inconsiderate munjen people, who are unaware about the fact that some raggers cannot speak or comprehend more chinese than 'ni hao ma?'.
but indeed, shazzy, i think i understand.
why you will never be wardrobe mistress again.
and esther ng cheng teng, why you, so in love, so dedicated to, so committed to, so passionate about sewing and costumes, would choose dp sets over dp wardrobe.
'because i don't want to deal with dancers mah.'
don't get me wrong.
dancers are a nice, fun bunch of people.
they are friendly, kind, cheerful.
but if you are a wardrober, or have been, even half, you would understand where this notion is stemming from.
there are no words to describe, no pictures to illustrate, no need to elaborate.
do not ask me, ever,
to do wardrobe again.
---------------------------------------------------
rag was really painful this year because i did wardrobe, kind of.
im not sure if i should be ashamed, because i don't really think of myself as a wardrober.
i hate it.
hate it when people say wardrobe is slack.
and it's true. that wardrobe was slow, inefficient, inexperienced, no sense of urgency.
every second, every minute of my living moment in wardrobe was in pain, in desperate, in waiting, waiting for hong jin, so desperate himself, alone, toiling at the main float, bursting his brains thinking of detailing and colours, to push the panick button and to call me back to engineering/detailing. so that i could be productive, so that i could have direction, drive; a motive, a goal, a target.
with the exception of some light-hearted moments when esther, shazzy, or nadia was around, to inject some motivation, some drive, some direction and some laughter in me, wardrobe was simply not at all as wonderful as i wished it to be.
i admit, i was looking to our wardrobe mistress for some sense of direction.
but we have, we had, none.
she, had not.
maybe i was asking for too much.
too inexperienced, too undirected, too easily distracted.
the weaknesses of wardrobers, myself included.
which is why i will always remember wardrobe as a bittersweet experience, and promise to wash my hands off costume, or any kind of fashion design for anything related to eusoff hall from chingay onwards.
now i think back, and sometimes scoff at myself.
what an idealistic fool, i must have been.
-------------------------------------------
but as much as i have this love-hate relationship with wardrobe,
the mere mention of the idea really made me spit fire.
the mere thought that someone would suggest scraping wardrobe totally.
really,
really,
really,
pissed me off.
like seriously.
like, big time.
i was like, fuck?
it disgusts me, repels me, disturbs me, eats at me.
goodness knows what controlled me to keep my bloody mouth shut so it wouldn't sprout some undiplomatic nonsense to scare off people.
and then i emoed.
quite quietly. in the corner, next to gui ming wayne.
and then, like how siddhata gautama gained enlightenment, i saw through everything; overdue realisation dawned upon me. like a foolish child receiving punishment for a long done mistake, like expired can food waiting to be thrown away,
i wept.
silently, in my heart.
year in year out, we do these things.
things that i suffer for. things that i sacrifice time with my family, my close friends. things that make me regret not being at home when i was needed. things that make me feel guilty for letting my vice president shoulder alone. things that make me lost chances that could earn me something dear to me in future.
we're not paid for them; we're not recognised.
now, we're not even appreciated.
what do we get?
i really don't know.
if not for you, my friends, fellow sufferers, comrades,
what for?
to be complained about?
to be asked to be scraped away?
to be so stressed and have so many deadlines and things to finish,
to have to push myself to the limit, and sleep less than 4 hours a day?
to be away from my family, and have my relationship with my parents suffer?
to pay extra money for hall stay during vacation, when i could be jolly well earning?
seriously, i...
i'm so sad really.
i'm not even angry anymore.
i feel sorry for all the wardrobers who have done a great job since the start of rag wardrobe so far, and apologise for having been such a lousy designer such that my design, the year that i should provide the direction and design for wardrobe, things turn out so fucked up that people even come up with the notion of tailoring dancer's costumes and scraping wardrobe totally.
now you know people are lying when they say you're really appreciated.
i can only laugh. sadly in my heart.
i'm sorry, i will never want to be someone, like you. a part of you, with you, whatever.
i wash my hands totally off this.
chingay, i'm coming, but i want to be there operating the float.
our float.
or you can let me sit on the float and wave.
because im part of the team who MADE this thing.
part of the people,
in my heart,
who really matter.
----------------------------------------------------------
i'm happy that despite the loss, or maybe precisely because of the loss, many raggers have bought their ticket. it's not an easy decision to make, but im proud they have made it.
today, a whole lot of people gathered in blue oyster.
a lot of us talked, some of us made sense, some of us didnt. some of us didnt understand, and never will; some of us have experienced, understood, and will.
today, i realised, these people don't really matter.
crap, they can say what they want to say, because, they don't understand.
every year we talk about improvements, about getting more people.
every year we say we will come out stronger, fight again, thrash everyone else.
everytime raggers/dp setters get arrowed,
everytime we're expected to do this again, just because we've done this before.
nobody, who hasn't done rag before, will understand.
if you know what i mean.
don't ask me to buy a ticket,
i dont really feel like taking the bus, at least, not now;
it's a ride leading a long way down into an endless tunnel,
cause i'm seriously jaded.
今、そう思った。
i realise, when people call it a post moterm, or trash-out session, really stupid things can come out of their mouths. which is why i chose to keep mine shut, mostly.
i'm feeling quite fed up with this.
jaded, pissed, whatever adjective you can find to describe it.
madeline expressed her shock at hearing me say the fuck word three times so forcefully for the first time throughout rag. indeed, not many things can bring me down to that level to be so miffed to produce such an unnecessary word.
for one thing,
i'd like to clarify matters, maybe with myself.
rag was a whole lot of fun this year, because i got to play with detailings, colours, painting, some engineering, costume design, and to hang around this bunch of people, though most of them are inconsiderate munjen people, who are unaware about the fact that some raggers cannot speak or comprehend more chinese than 'ni hao ma?'.
but indeed, shazzy, i think i understand.
why you will never be wardrobe mistress again.
and esther ng cheng teng, why you, so in love, so dedicated to, so committed to, so passionate about sewing and costumes, would choose dp sets over dp wardrobe.
'because i don't want to deal with dancers mah.'
don't get me wrong.
dancers are a nice, fun bunch of people.
they are friendly, kind, cheerful.
but if you are a wardrober, or have been, even half, you would understand where this notion is stemming from.
there are no words to describe, no pictures to illustrate, no need to elaborate.
do not ask me, ever,
to do wardrobe again.
---------------------------------------------------
rag was really painful this year because i did wardrobe, kind of.
im not sure if i should be ashamed, because i don't really think of myself as a wardrober.
i hate it.
hate it when people say wardrobe is slack.
and it's true. that wardrobe was slow, inefficient, inexperienced, no sense of urgency.
every second, every minute of my living moment in wardrobe was in pain, in desperate, in waiting, waiting for hong jin, so desperate himself, alone, toiling at the main float, bursting his brains thinking of detailing and colours, to push the panick button and to call me back to engineering/detailing. so that i could be productive, so that i could have direction, drive; a motive, a goal, a target.
with the exception of some light-hearted moments when esther, shazzy, or nadia was around, to inject some motivation, some drive, some direction and some laughter in me, wardrobe was simply not at all as wonderful as i wished it to be.
i admit, i was looking to our wardrobe mistress for some sense of direction.
but we have, we had, none.
she, had not.
maybe i was asking for too much.
too inexperienced, too undirected, too easily distracted.
the weaknesses of wardrobers, myself included.
which is why i will always remember wardrobe as a bittersweet experience, and promise to wash my hands off costume, or any kind of fashion design for anything related to eusoff hall from chingay onwards.
now i think back, and sometimes scoff at myself.
what an idealistic fool, i must have been.
-------------------------------------------
but as much as i have this love-hate relationship with wardrobe,
the mere mention of the idea really made me spit fire.
the mere thought that someone would suggest scraping wardrobe totally.
really,
really,
really,
pissed me off.
like seriously.
like, big time.
i was like, fuck?
it disgusts me, repels me, disturbs me, eats at me.
goodness knows what controlled me to keep my bloody mouth shut so it wouldn't sprout some undiplomatic nonsense to scare off people.
and then i emoed.
quite quietly. in the corner, next to gui ming wayne.
and then, like how siddhata gautama gained enlightenment, i saw through everything; overdue realisation dawned upon me. like a foolish child receiving punishment for a long done mistake, like expired can food waiting to be thrown away,
i wept.
silently, in my heart.
year in year out, we do these things.
things that i suffer for. things that i sacrifice time with my family, my close friends. things that make me regret not being at home when i was needed. things that make me feel guilty for letting my vice president shoulder alone. things that make me lost chances that could earn me something dear to me in future.
we're not paid for them; we're not recognised.
now, we're not even appreciated.
what do we get?
i really don't know.
if not for you, my friends, fellow sufferers, comrades,
what for?
to be complained about?
to be asked to be scraped away?
to be so stressed and have so many deadlines and things to finish,
to have to push myself to the limit, and sleep less than 4 hours a day?
to be away from my family, and have my relationship with my parents suffer?
to pay extra money for hall stay during vacation, when i could be jolly well earning?
seriously, i...
i'm so sad really.
i'm not even angry anymore.
i feel sorry for all the wardrobers who have done a great job since the start of rag wardrobe so far, and apologise for having been such a lousy designer such that my design, the year that i should provide the direction and design for wardrobe, things turn out so fucked up that people even come up with the notion of tailoring dancer's costumes and scraping wardrobe totally.
now you know people are lying when they say you're really appreciated.
i can only laugh. sadly in my heart.
i'm sorry, i will never want to be someone, like you. a part of you, with you, whatever.
i wash my hands totally off this.
chingay, i'm coming, but i want to be there operating the float.
our float.
or you can let me sit on the float and wave.
because im part of the team who MADE this thing.
part of the people,
in my heart,
who really matter.
----------------------------------------------------------
i'm happy that despite the loss, or maybe precisely because of the loss, many raggers have bought their ticket. it's not an easy decision to make, but im proud they have made it.
today, a whole lot of people gathered in blue oyster.
a lot of us talked, some of us made sense, some of us didnt. some of us didnt understand, and never will; some of us have experienced, understood, and will.
today, i realised, these people don't really matter.
crap, they can say what they want to say, because, they don't understand.
every year we talk about improvements, about getting more people.
every year we say we will come out stronger, fight again, thrash everyone else.
everytime raggers/dp setters get arrowed,
everytime we're expected to do this again, just because we've done this before.
nobody, who hasn't done rag before, will understand.
if you know what i mean.
don't ask me to buy a ticket,
i dont really feel like taking the bus, at least, not now;
it's a ride leading a long way down into an endless tunnel,
cause i'm seriously jaded.
今、そう思った。
Monday, 11 August 2008
no matter how many times you tell me to be sad,
it's hard not to.
the moment keeps replaying in my mind, like a bad casette tape, like a screwed video.
it's assuring, to wake up, and see your message on msn.
'miss tan wenlin?'
but it won't be the same without you.
rag wasn't the same.
you say, that eusoff hall has survived one year without you; that eusoff doesn't need you anymore.
but it won't be the same without you.
you say, that you'll be around, you'll help out,
but,
you know,
i know,
things won't be the same again.
and no matter how many times you tell me not to be sad,
it's hard not to.
--------------------------------------------
until now do i realise.
i've been buying clothes, eating, doing all kinds of things to cope with stress.
hall matters, kendo matters, things at home... whenever i feel stressed...
as much as i know how bad it is.
but it's come to a point where,
clothes fail to provide me any form of temporary, fleeting satisfaction, or momentary happiness.
food fails to provide me any warmth, comfort, assurance.
what more can i lean on?
i sleep.
when i wake up,
maybe things will be okay.
or so i believe.
it's hard not to.
the moment keeps replaying in my mind, like a bad casette tape, like a screwed video.
it's assuring, to wake up, and see your message on msn.
'miss tan wenlin?'
but it won't be the same without you.
rag wasn't the same.
you say, that eusoff hall has survived one year without you; that eusoff doesn't need you anymore.
but it won't be the same without you.
you say, that you'll be around, you'll help out,
but,
you know,
i know,
things won't be the same again.
and no matter how many times you tell me not to be sad,
it's hard not to.
--------------------------------------------
until now do i realise.
i've been buying clothes, eating, doing all kinds of things to cope with stress.
hall matters, kendo matters, things at home... whenever i feel stressed...
as much as i know how bad it is.
but it's come to a point where,
clothes fail to provide me any form of temporary, fleeting satisfaction, or momentary happiness.
food fails to provide me any warmth, comfort, assurance.
what more can i lean on?
i sleep.
when i wake up,
maybe things will be okay.
or so i believe.
Sunday, 10 August 2008
kendo training days and venue has just been changed and i've just realised that monday is currently my free day. lovely. i mean, serious. deadpan serious. it's good, because it means i get a longer weekend and i get to slowly dwell in my room and clean my bogu and pack my gi and hakama before going for monday training.
the prospect of friday trainings are exciting/draining though. it's the love/hate good/bad pros/cons double edged sword situation. but looking at how things are going it seems to be the best arrangement; given that we DO get our mpsh 6 on both days for next semester, which would be REALLY, REALLY good for youth tournament.
so cut to the chase.
kendo duties aside, which i am, after sleeping half a day away and cleaning up 1/n of the foyer, where n is an integer -----------> infinity, very ready to take up and share with dear shu, who has been so faithfully helpfully toiling and shouldering on her own, while i was sewing and cutting and screwing and painting,
it's over.
all over.
3 months of work.
2 months of sleeping in wardrobe.
i would have liked to tell you how proud i was.
i would have liked to tell you how much i wanted gui ming wayne to be the one, like vijay liew, to run up to the stage, be handed the rag shield, and be lifted and thrown by the crowd, like how a real champion's welcome should be, deserving only of a true leader, friend, confidante like he.
i would have like to tell you how much pride swelled in me as the dancers stepped into their costumes, melted into character
i would have liked to tell you how our celebration would be, as we would be welcomed back to hall, at the 50th anniversary gala dinner, by master, by the RFs, by the programmers, by the freshmen,
i would have liked to tell vijay how happy i was how proud i was how much i wished he could be here, with me, with han cheng, with lau hong, with his CB son, and with the shield that we proudly and oh-so-bravely defended,
i would have liked han cheng and lau hong to be cocky and ohsodelighted when the announced our float to be that of the best design,
i would have like the freshies to be able to stand proud and to be able to gloat and to go around telling their friends that eusoff hall, rag 08/09, a christmas reverie, is the best float, best design, best hall rag ever.
i would have liked it.
this is what the end should be.
in my mind.
i would have liked it that i would stand, with a smile, turn around and look back at our float, maybe just a glance, settle my heart and mind, and be rest assured that things are the way they should be, so i can leave things, pick up the pieces, and move on, and be concerned with other important things in my life.
to move on.
to carry on.
but i can't.
i couldn't.
it's ironic, that the feeling of winning last year brought tears to my face, and no matter how many times the image replays in my mind, the joy, excitement, unexpectedness, it's fresh, like baby's breath, like the smell of toasted bread, like the warmth of someone's hand holding mine.
and now, today, tomorrow next week, next month, next year.
till something is done, the feeling of unsettledness, the feeling of dissatisfaction, of unhappiness, of disappointment, of doubt, of question, will plague me, eat at me, consume my thoughts and my self whole; a insatiable, uncontrollable hunger that will possess me, and never rest at peace.
tears, are the only familar thing.
i thought i could be strong.
but looking at every piece, every square, every length, every side, every tear;
nadia, her head burrowed in my shoulder, as i hug her silently, so strongly i fear it would tear us apart; yee yee, tears streaming down her face, as her eyes, so heartbroken, so dejected;
madeline, so quiet, so silent, so solitary, so strong. ling zhi, so adamant, so defiant, in so much doubt, question, deny.
and loh joon kit. trying his best to console me, hand pressing on my head.
only as i looked up did i realise, red, were his eyes.
as the awards were announced, one by one, as the cheers from the opposite side grew louder,
i knew in my heart,
that rag would be something,
that could never leave my mind.
and you, my friends.
my friends, my comrades, my confidantes, my partners, my fellow slaves,
who toiled with me, dragged your wearing feet and souls with me, who worked through all this shit with me,
will have an irreplaceable place in my heart.
never mind what they say.
never mind that they don't understand.
that my dad isn't happy. that i burned my holidays away. that we came out empty handed. that we came out with tear streaked faces.
my heart,
is warm.
-----------------------------------------------------------
while i was body painting the dancers in preparation for performance, yijun came around and helped me excitedly. it's a rather sad thing i did not get to know her till much later, and even more regretful thing that i did not have the chance to know her better. and now she's going to be away from hall.
and so as she rather excitedly helped me with painting the backs of the not-so-hunky woodcutter guys, she asked me, with a half sigh,
'wenlin ah, how many more times are you going to do rag, ah?'
i was stunned for a moment but i just smiled and kind of continued what i was doing, and said, 'no la,' or something, but that question lingered at the back of my mind, all throughout august the 8th, after rag, after we went back, after we cleaned up, after i slept, after i woke up, after the 9th, after the 10th, and even till now.
and then something else, which may or may not seem so relevant, was triggered by this notion
i remember the time when i was in the main float tent, standing next to wayne as hong jin was discussing the colour scheme with me, and wayne was doing his coke detailing.
so he whispered,
'join sets, join sets, join sets.' followed by his standard 'kiv, I REJECT, HAHAHA' laughter.
and i was like, WAH LAU. because i missed/miss dance. and i felt like i gained enough confidence to meet up to my own expectations and self image to go for the audition, to be scrutinised despite not having the perfect body, or impressive dance experience.
then he said, join sets la. he said,
can you imagine? in future right, i will ask juniors, who is your idol? and they will say, TAN WENLIN! why? because she joined sets for FOUR YEARS LEH! how zai is that! how zai is her painting and sets xia!!! she's a legend!'
at that moment, i just laughed and brushed him off. the thought of it pleased me/repelled me at the same time but,
now, when i look back.
i think,
and i think now i remember,
with a smile,
why i did sets.
again,
and again.
why i did rag,
again,
and again.
because of you, gui ming wayne. we go way back. it's been what, 2 years? i remember the du lan face you had on the first day of orientation. i was scared shitless by you and ching har but luckily she was so friendly and her voice so cute it kind of assured me a little. and then sets. yes, hadrian chin. marcus chai. L BERT. hui lo. LAU HONG JIN. firus! but still gui ming wayne. and rag. mr vijay liew, someone special. esther ng cheng teng. shazzy wazzy. liew mei chee. YEW HUNG SENG, and still gui ming wayne. sets, 2007/2008. bella, teee kaihui, edmundo, kaihan, madeline, raymond, esther :), soohf, BUT GUI MING WAYNE AGAIN. then rag 2008/2009. yew hung seng, lau hong jin, kelvin, mad :) soo hf :) siti nadia binte mohammed, LJK, raymond, lychee, andrew, chin qian lyn, YEOH YEEE YEEEE E=D
but still
GUI. MING. WAYNE.
hello, i almost want to ask,
how many times you want to do sets and rag again ah, GUI MING WAYNE?
we really go way back, friend.
you've seen me change from some emo nemo kid, childish, silly, sensitive, bad dress sense, into someone more mature, more wise, still some emo, still some sensitive, pseudo designer dress sense.
i've seen you change, those around you come and leave, change, become closer, become further apart.
time has passed, my friend.
i would have liked for you, my friend, to be the one holding the rag shield as we carry you, so small, so fun-sized, but so proud, so incredible, so wonderful, high up into the sky, so high it would feel like you were the sun, shining down upon us, bringing us, leading us, being right next to us.
i would have liked it to be you.
when you ask again,
if you ask again,
could i bear to say no?
-----------------------------------------------------
yew hung seng, lau hong jin, and gui ming wayne.
maybe it's enough.
i don't really want to be a legend, because it's not what im cut out to be.
2 years of all this, toilling, dwelling, dragging, slogging,
and sometimes we question, why?
nobody understands me as well as you do.
is it time to stop?
when the time comes,
for us to make a decision again,
are we really able to leave? to say no? to turn around, walk away?
maybe,
we were legends from the beginning,
just that,
we never knew.
the prospect of friday trainings are exciting/draining though. it's the love/hate good/bad pros/cons double edged sword situation. but looking at how things are going it seems to be the best arrangement; given that we DO get our mpsh 6 on both days for next semester, which would be REALLY, REALLY good for youth tournament.
so cut to the chase.
kendo duties aside, which i am, after sleeping half a day away and cleaning up 1/n of the foyer, where n is an integer -----------> infinity, very ready to take up and share with dear shu, who has been so faithfully helpfully toiling and shouldering on her own, while i was sewing and cutting and screwing and painting,
it's over.
all over.
3 months of work.
2 months of sleeping in wardrobe.
i would have liked to tell you how proud i was.
i would have liked to tell you how much i wanted gui ming wayne to be the one, like vijay liew, to run up to the stage, be handed the rag shield, and be lifted and thrown by the crowd, like how a real champion's welcome should be, deserving only of a true leader, friend, confidante like he.
i would have like to tell you how much pride swelled in me as the dancers stepped into their costumes, melted into character
i would have liked to tell you how our celebration would be, as we would be welcomed back to hall, at the 50th anniversary gala dinner, by master, by the RFs, by the programmers, by the freshmen,
i would have liked to tell vijay how happy i was how proud i was how much i wished he could be here, with me, with han cheng, with lau hong, with his CB son, and with the shield that we proudly and oh-so-bravely defended,
i would have liked han cheng and lau hong to be cocky and ohsodelighted when the announced our float to be that of the best design,
i would have like the freshies to be able to stand proud and to be able to gloat and to go around telling their friends that eusoff hall, rag 08/09, a christmas reverie, is the best float, best design, best hall rag ever.
i would have liked it.
this is what the end should be.
in my mind.
i would have liked it that i would stand, with a smile, turn around and look back at our float, maybe just a glance, settle my heart and mind, and be rest assured that things are the way they should be, so i can leave things, pick up the pieces, and move on, and be concerned with other important things in my life.
to move on.
to carry on.
but i can't.
i couldn't.
it's ironic, that the feeling of winning last year brought tears to my face, and no matter how many times the image replays in my mind, the joy, excitement, unexpectedness, it's fresh, like baby's breath, like the smell of toasted bread, like the warmth of someone's hand holding mine.
and now, today, tomorrow next week, next month, next year.
till something is done, the feeling of unsettledness, the feeling of dissatisfaction, of unhappiness, of disappointment, of doubt, of question, will plague me, eat at me, consume my thoughts and my self whole; a insatiable, uncontrollable hunger that will possess me, and never rest at peace.
tears, are the only familar thing.
i thought i could be strong.
but looking at every piece, every square, every length, every side, every tear;
nadia, her head burrowed in my shoulder, as i hug her silently, so strongly i fear it would tear us apart; yee yee, tears streaming down her face, as her eyes, so heartbroken, so dejected;
madeline, so quiet, so silent, so solitary, so strong. ling zhi, so adamant, so defiant, in so much doubt, question, deny.
and loh joon kit. trying his best to console me, hand pressing on my head.
only as i looked up did i realise, red, were his eyes.
as the awards were announced, one by one, as the cheers from the opposite side grew louder,
i knew in my heart,
that rag would be something,
that could never leave my mind.
and you, my friends.
my friends, my comrades, my confidantes, my partners, my fellow slaves,
who toiled with me, dragged your wearing feet and souls with me, who worked through all this shit with me,
will have an irreplaceable place in my heart.
never mind what they say.
never mind that they don't understand.
that my dad isn't happy. that i burned my holidays away. that we came out empty handed. that we came out with tear streaked faces.
my heart,
is warm.
-----------------------------------------------------------
while i was body painting the dancers in preparation for performance, yijun came around and helped me excitedly. it's a rather sad thing i did not get to know her till much later, and even more regretful thing that i did not have the chance to know her better. and now she's going to be away from hall.
and so as she rather excitedly helped me with painting the backs of the not-so-hunky woodcutter guys, she asked me, with a half sigh,
'wenlin ah, how many more times are you going to do rag, ah?'
i was stunned for a moment but i just smiled and kind of continued what i was doing, and said, 'no la,' or something, but that question lingered at the back of my mind, all throughout august the 8th, after rag, after we went back, after we cleaned up, after i slept, after i woke up, after the 9th, after the 10th, and even till now.
and then something else, which may or may not seem so relevant, was triggered by this notion
i remember the time when i was in the main float tent, standing next to wayne as hong jin was discussing the colour scheme with me, and wayne was doing his coke detailing.
so he whispered,
'join sets, join sets, join sets.' followed by his standard 'kiv, I REJECT, HAHAHA' laughter.
and i was like, WAH LAU. because i missed/miss dance. and i felt like i gained enough confidence to meet up to my own expectations and self image to go for the audition, to be scrutinised despite not having the perfect body, or impressive dance experience.
then he said, join sets la. he said,
can you imagine? in future right, i will ask juniors, who is your idol? and they will say, TAN WENLIN! why? because she joined sets for FOUR YEARS LEH! how zai is that! how zai is her painting and sets xia!!! she's a legend!'
at that moment, i just laughed and brushed him off. the thought of it pleased me/repelled me at the same time but,
now, when i look back.
i think,
and i think now i remember,
with a smile,
why i did sets.
again,
and again.
why i did rag,
again,
and again.
because of you, gui ming wayne. we go way back. it's been what, 2 years? i remember the du lan face you had on the first day of orientation. i was scared shitless by you and ching har but luckily she was so friendly and her voice so cute it kind of assured me a little. and then sets. yes, hadrian chin. marcus chai. L BERT. hui lo. LAU HONG JIN. firus! but still gui ming wayne. and rag. mr vijay liew, someone special. esther ng cheng teng. shazzy wazzy. liew mei chee. YEW HUNG SENG, and still gui ming wayne. sets, 2007/2008. bella, teee kaihui, edmundo, kaihan, madeline, raymond, esther :), soohf, BUT GUI MING WAYNE AGAIN. then rag 2008/2009. yew hung seng, lau hong jin, kelvin, mad :) soo hf :) siti nadia binte mohammed, LJK, raymond, lychee, andrew, chin qian lyn, YEOH YEEE YEEEE E=D
but still
GUI. MING. WAYNE.
hello, i almost want to ask,
how many times you want to do sets and rag again ah, GUI MING WAYNE?
we really go way back, friend.
you've seen me change from some emo nemo kid, childish, silly, sensitive, bad dress sense, into someone more mature, more wise, still some emo, still some sensitive, pseudo designer dress sense.
i've seen you change, those around you come and leave, change, become closer, become further apart.
time has passed, my friend.
i would have liked for you, my friend, to be the one holding the rag shield as we carry you, so small, so fun-sized, but so proud, so incredible, so wonderful, high up into the sky, so high it would feel like you were the sun, shining down upon us, bringing us, leading us, being right next to us.
i would have liked it to be you.
when you ask again,
if you ask again,
could i bear to say no?
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yew hung seng, lau hong jin, and gui ming wayne.
maybe it's enough.
i don't really want to be a legend, because it's not what im cut out to be.
2 years of all this, toilling, dwelling, dragging, slogging,
and sometimes we question, why?
nobody understands me as well as you do.
is it time to stop?
when the time comes,
for us to make a decision again,
are we really able to leave? to say no? to turn around, walk away?
maybe,
we were legends from the beginning,
just that,
we never knew.
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