It was on Tuesday that my Aunt and cousins from the United States arrived. They are vacationing here for a total of six weeks and will be staying over at my house. Their homecoming was a bitter sweet thing. Sweet that I am finally able to catchup and hug my cute cousins for real and not send virtual kisses over the webcam, but bitter for I had to say goodbye to my privacy.
It took me awhile to realise this about myself: I cannot spend a large amount of time consecutively with people, even with close friends. I went to Korea with two other friends last year for 16 days. I was all hyped up about going overseas without adult supervision but to my utter surprise, I find myself wanting to go home after five days. Initially I thought it was homesickness, but no, the symptoms told me otherwise. I merely needed alone time. Time in solitude and away from the world. I grew really grumpy and would snap at the slightest things my friends would do. I guess Im sorry my friends had to put up with me but really, 24 hours a day for 16 days is just too much for me to handle. I am just not used to being around people for an extended period of time.
My family respects each others’ personal space. Everyone has got their own little heaven on earth. My dad likes to read in the study room for example. Naturally, my sanctuary would be my room. Its walls are painted a dark violet, window shades are always drawn closed and most importantly, the door is closed at all times. All these factors scream ‘Comfortable’ to me.
dislike hate people texting me all the time. Anyone who knows me well knows that I would ignore them unless they are important and needs immediate attention. I do read them but I don’t necessarily acknowledge that I had. I have come across many people who feels that I am rude to do so and that it is basic courtesy to reply. I guess I understand where they are coming from, but than again, Im not bothered enough by this fact to change. Clingy people is my ultimate pet peeve(I have quite a few)! I absolutely. Cannot. Stand. Them. Them and me don’t match very well at all. I see no point and need in reporting to a certain someone what I am doing right now for the entire length of the day. In turn, they would be frustrated and jump to conclusions when I refuse to reply. Like dude, even if you don’t need it but please do not deprive others(me) of a breather.
Interacting with people can be really exhausting. It is not at all pretentious of me to say that I do not always portray my true self to others. In emo language, ‘I am hiding behind a mask.’ Let’s face it. In a society, I doubt anyone and everyone would approve of your character. I see this as a form of compromise that everyone should make to ensure peace within a community. Of course, as much as you want to make friends/please people, be true to yourself too. Never betray your values.
Whenever I meet people that I can clique with, I make it a point to let them know about my tendencies to be cynical, sarcastic and among other things right from the very beginning. However with people I don’t care for, I don’t clarify my actions. I really couldn’t care less if my comment offends them. I guess this method works as I am still schooling, true, I have lesser friends but its alright. The harsh world outside is a whole different story.
Alone time is therapeutic and the best and easiest way to relax. It recharges me and I’ll be in a better mood.
This picture that you’re looking at right now is an art piece done by yours truly, at the age of 7. I don’t know about you but I think it looks pretty damn awesome. Hahaha!
When I was younger, way waay long time ago, I told everyone, “When I grow up, I want to be an Artist.” With that said, my mum whisked me off to Kinderland Education and Childcare centre and there was where most of my happy childhood memories were formed. I remembered that Sundays were just delightful to wake up to. Without fail, rain or shine, my mum would send James and I off to our Arts and Crafts lesson. It was there that I found the joy of creating my very own Art!
To reminisce, I ransacked my cabinet and uncovered all my masterpieces! My mum carefully kept them in a huge plastic folder.
This piece on the left actually got me a Gold award for Singapore Kindness Movement (something along the lines of,) Art Competition. The ‘vehicle’ on the left, yes the tri-analog coloured car that transports three people really had me cracking up. Where I got the inspiration to draw such a thing, I dont know.
Arghh, wordpress won’t let me tilt the picture upright… This one was me experimenting with watercolours. I knew that I had a hard time controlling such a soluble medium then and it is the same for now! I have yet to master the technique. But I love the effect made by watercolours. It always give artworks a sense of fluidity and movement.
This piece, I really really like! I’d gotten 4/5 stars! If I can say so myself, you can see the makings of Vincent Van Gogh here. Notice the all-too-familiar dabbing technique at the background, hahaa! We used our fingers to paint the dots on and I remembered James went home with paint splattered clothes that day, even though we all wore aprons.
So this is another one, on flowers obviously. I was told to use straws as substitute for stalks. It made the flowers look 3-D, kinda. I thought it was real creative then. There was this cheeky boy in class who refused to listen to the teacher and went ahead with chopping up all of his ‘stalks’. So in the end, his end product was different from the rest. He had straws as leaves instead.
Oh well, I actually took 100000000000 over snapshots of all my other creations but I shall spare you guys, hah. It was fun looking through every single piece, laughing at weird things James and I drew and smiling when that picture evoked a distant memory.
So that was the starting point that sparked my interest, of course I followed on to join Sculpture Club as my pri, school CCA and took Art in O levels. Gone were the days I colour in blocks of monotone and outlining shapes with felt-marker. Over the years, I’ve acquainted myself fairly well with the pencil and the brush. I’ve gone a long way and it is interesting to see the improvements that I’d made.
Now my aspiration is to become a VFX Artist which really, isn’t very far from where I’ve first started. I do believe that Art would be a major part of my life.
In 2-D Art lessons, I recalled Sally exclaiming that I wasn’t “Human” for producing a realistic sketch of Katy Perry and a crying boy, but really, its just years and years of practice. Well, in my case, I wouldn’t exactly call them practices since I truly enjoy what I’m doing. It was my hobby. It still is. Majority believes that people are naturally born with artistic abilities which allows them to draw/paint better than the average. That may be true to a certain extend but hey, I can say the same for people that are better in Math than those that aren’t. However it is mandatory to study math in school, so how is that fair?
Anyway, I just want to emphasize the point that everyone can draw, so yea, that means you too, Leslie. Well, that is possible if people are willing to invest their time nurturing and exercising their creative Mr. Right Brain.
I saw something that greatly disturbed me yesterday.
I think you can guess what I’m on about from this blog post title and the pictures. Yes, I even photoshopped them to give the added effect. (Leslie extra marks, please?) Pardon the pictures’ low resolutions, I snapped them using my iPhone. It was my first time taking sneak shots of total strangers, I feel like those STomp people. Hmmm, now that I think about it, maybe it’s not a bad idea.. and I can earn an easy 50 bucks too…
Alright, enough digressing, as I was saying, this boy did something that greatly disturbed me. On the way to school, I found myself a seat on the train and took the opportunity to take a quick snooze. I remembered being rudely awaken by some incoherent yelling, mind you, I had Slipknot- Wait and Bleed blasting in my ears. (Yes, I am that type of person that is able to sleep through heavy metal but not annoying shoutings/talking..) I opened my eyes to be greeted by this boy. He was seated directly opposite me, had his rifle aimed at me, and was repeatedly shouting, “bang, bang, bang!!…”
To say that I was not at all amused by his exhibition of violence was an understatement.
He than carried on to shoot at practically everything that catches his attention; random commuters and even objects/birds outside the window for the entire length of his train journey. Yeap, most of the commuters, including me were victims under his dreaded rifle. I’m pretty sure that our cabin and the next were able to see, if not hear his rather impressive imitations of one-sided shoot offs.
I’ve yet to announce the epitome of this whole incredulous situation, his dad was seated beside me, blatantly ignoring his son’s evil endeavours and was immersing himself in his game of SMURFS on his iPhone! Imagine that! Now, seriously, what has the world became to?
Whatever happened to playing with good ol’Hot Wheels cars? I would rather the boy play with Barbie’s than that. At least they are pretty harmless, no?
I don’t blame the boy of no less 5 years old. Its his parents that are the ignorant ones. I can already see where this boy will stand in ten, twenty, forty years to come if this persist on.
Should toys have censorship, yes I do think that there’s a need to.
This post is dedicated to Tarzan. RIP.
We all had fun feeding you,
poking you and decorating your humble abode. Though it was a short two days, you had fun… right? Playing tag with Popeye and uh, swimming around…
Well, just to let you know, wherever you are, Dad misses you. Wait, not your dad- biological father, but the one who’d bought you from the store. Yes, the one who has got Haley William’s hair. My dad.
I think I should backtrack a little. Just a few days ago, my dad had a ‘brilliant idea’, mind you, his words. Not mine. Now, if you know my dad well enough, you will come to realise that he is perpetually busying himself with one of his many ideas, or projects as he likes to call them. Or in my case, living under the same roof as him for more than 17 years, I have come to more or less, sorta, maybe… accept this quirky side of him. I can say the same for my brother, but my mother… Let’s just say that she takes a longer time to ‘see the light’, or to be precise, ‘see her hubby’s light’.
So I came back home from school and found everyone (Dad, Mom, James) crowding in front of the living room’s window.
I heard my mom exclaiming, “I don’t think it’s alright to put them here leh. What if the management office finds out about this?”
Dad, “Aiyooh, how would they know? Anyway I doubt they even have such a policy and..”
My brother , James interrupts loudly, “Well, that’s because no one would have thought to even put a tank outside lah, so why would there be a policy?!!”
At that point in time, I was super curious and joined them, looking out the window. Bold and behold! A tank. Outside. M&M figurine. Fishes. M&M FIGURINE. OUTSIDE? WHAAAT THE (insert expletives)?!!
Yeap. By outside, I actually meant, the planter area.
That area, a few days ago was filled with potted plants, now house a tank, which in turn house two fishes. Well, used to house two fishes. Now, house one fish.
To tell you the truth, I was mentally prepared for something more bizarre. He once told me that he thought of installing a hammock there. Yes a freaking hammock outside. He only chose to confide in me knowing that I am most receptive of his ideas among the family. I may be an adrenaline junkie, but I still value my life! We live on the 2nd floor for god sake! As much as my dad is ‘creative’, he’s senses never left him and thus that idea was quickly abandoned. Much to my relief.
Both James and I warmed to this new addition in our house- planter area rather quickly after wearing off the initial shock. My mom is still weary, not a surprise there. Among all his other endeavours, this is one of the more successful one and is actually easier to adapt to. Well, duh, it’s outside.
I remembered there was once, my dad changed the whole living room layout, placing all the furnitures in the reverse direction. He felt that the layout was too boring and wanted to ‘spice up our house’. Well naturally we all felt awkward, I would reach out to my left, only to realise the phone is on my right instead. To everyone’s agreement, the layout was reverted back to the previous one. Sometimes, boring is good.
So you see! A tank/pond outside is really harmless! Except if it rains, the window on the far left cannot be fully clamped shut because of the water pump wire getting in the way. We actually need to walk over to the window to see Popeye and not to mention, that damn M&M figurine is an eyesore! The water needs to be replaced frequently as because it is outside, it gets dirty way quicker. But oh well, thats my dad’s job anyway. (In case you’re wondering, yes, he needs to climb over the window still to reach the tank.)
Right now, my dad is thinking of further improving the aesthetics of the ‘pond’ by maybe replacing the tank with a row boat or a wooden barrel. And maybe alleviating the whole tank so we can actually see the fish through the window glass.
Here we go again.
I saw red today. Correction, I am still seething.
I’m not a hugely feeling person. I rarely let my emotions get the best of me, however today.. Today was the ultimate.
At the bus stop, I was waiting for my bus to arrive. It was extremely crowded. Everyone inched inner, wanting to get under the shade of the pathetic shelter and away from the cruel rays of the sun. There he seated, in his washed-out, blue construction jumpsuit with splotches of mud, grime, sweat and who knows what else. Shoulders slumped, his disheveled head rested casually against the pole and his pair of calloused and dirt encrusted hands would repeatedly visit an area of his upper thigh, massaging it. It was his eyes which spoke volumes to me- tired, yellow tinted eyes that roamed aimlessly ahead of him. His detached demeanor, complete with an aura of bleakness about him had evoked something within me. His eyes flickered over to me, our eyes met for the briefest of time. Somehow, I could just tell that he knew, knew instinctively that I sympathized him, for I am sure nothing gave me away. He disregarded me.
He has no use for such a thing called sympathy.
I continued to observe him discreetly. It was then, two extremely frail-looking elderly hobbled over, both lugging large, heavy as hell looking plastic bags full of groceries with difficulty. One even had to rely on her walking stick. It was apparent that they needed a seat each. Guess who, without hesitation offered his seat? The bangladeshi heaved himself up and limped away. Obviously, the other old lady was still left standing. I saw her scanned the row of occupied benches with empathy. The row of selfish individuals all freaking avoided her gaze, unrelenting in giving up their fucking precious seats. But what affected me greatly was that she neither looked disappointed nor angry, just resigned. As though this is a usual occurrence.
I do realise that there are people like that out there, in fact I have seen it many a times. But when I am being slammed face first with such incredulity, I really find it damn hard to ignore. I cannot help but compare that seemingly refined office lady or that seemingly healthy secondary school boy or even that seemingly stocky, well-abled, young man with that tired and possibly injured bangladeshi. You would think that all of them possess more compassion than the latter. Well, no. They fucking do not. How is it that the bangladeshi is capable of giving more even though he obviously has lesser than those seated? The equation do not add up and it freaking pisses me off. What is the bloody use for having an expensive education or earning big bucks if you cannot even perform a simple gesture of kindness? It says a whole lot about them as a human being.
Yes, I do understand that I cannot view this on such a surface level. The people seated may have their reasons for doing so. Maybe they had a bad day at work, or the secondary school boy burned the midnight oil the day before to complete his homework and thus he is very tired… Whatever the reasons, I guess, I am in no position to judge if there are valid or not.
Did I really need to witness such a thing even though I already knew that this is a man-eat-man world? Maybe it is the urban, competitive environment that moulded the community into who we are today. I kind of wished I did not encounter this, but than again, I also saw something that made me smile, for that I am still optimistic.
At the end of the day, I hope that those people are regretting their actions and is having trouble sleeping now… Oh, who am I kidding? Let’s hope Karma bite them back in their arse twice as hard.
Truth be told, out of my entire homework pile, Storytelling’s assignment was the last to be picked. (pretty obvious, seeing I’m only starting this post at 11:25pm on the last day of submission..) Yes, i shall be candid and confess; I found it the least attractive and most tedious. The very thought of writing doesn’t repulse me but rather, intimidate me. I would approach writing with caution. Unlike some, words doesn’t flow to me naturally. My brain functions in such a fashion: It would process my inner thoughts and feelings in pictorial forms and very often or not, they would stay illustrated unless there is a need to communicate them to others. To put it simply, I’m highly visually orientated. I rely heavily on body language and facial expressions to convey myself to the people of the world. I trust most people are like me too.
I never had the habit of penning my thoughts down and honestly, I doubt I ever will. People often say that keeping a personal diary is great for acutely recording down events; special memories that you would want to embed in your head forever or for letting go steam as you complain about a certain someone for ruining your otherwise perfect day. The diary would be a doppelganger of You, one with a better memory. I guess all of this seems pretty wonderfully meaningful, but really, I just do not have the patience to reiterate an entire day’s worth of activities in my head and than transferring it onto paper. The whole process just screams troublesome with a capital ‘T’! If I had a bad day, why remind myself of it and pissing my already pissed self any further? At least, that’s my personal take on diary writing. I do not seek comfort in writing, my preferred mode of de-stressing and unwinding would be painting, to each their own. At this point in time, you might have thoughts running along the lines of: “pfft, if you’re lazy and couldn’t be bothered to maintain a diary just own up already, quit finding excuses to defend your lazy ass!” I beg to differ! There was a time, a distant ago that I possessed a diary, it was blue with a built-in lock mechanism. Till now, an entry dated 28 September 2004 was the first and last to be written. Currently it has taken refuge in my study drawer.
Blogging is never my thing too. I had one back in secondary school and the only thing that intrigued me was the html codings. I spent more time sourcing for new blog backgrounds, modifying them to meet my liking than, I would on composing a blog post. I’m a rather private person and tend to keep my thoughts in the privacy of my own head and only share them exclusively to people that are genuinely interested to know. Also, I came to realize that I am a tad bit more cynical than the average masses, I often get adverse reactions from various people regarding the outlook I have on life.