The Beats My Heart Skipped
Sometimes, the heart just gets tired and feels silly and seeks to be alone for a while, without company, only absorbing in the applicable lyrics of crooning acoustic voices, as they speak of life, love and all that matters for the seeker to decipher between the lyrical intonation.
The first part of the music always begins peacefully and a little soft, as if unsure. Then it gathers its momentum, slowly but surely. In the height of its emotions, it brought in the crescendos screeching with frustration and I heard the strums.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Each one beating furiously and rhythmically. They tell me to not be scared, to march forth – loudly, proudly and unhesitatingly.
As the music died off, in a less agitated manner, i realized the beats followed my heart. What an uncertain heart!
I solemnly swear I am up to no good …
I signed up for a one month account at one of the online dating websites, under the coercion of a coworker and curious about how things would be like.
Things went just as I imagine. I am now trying very hard to make my one month membership worthwhile by aspiring to reply to every single email that comes my way and proactively surfing other people’s profiles even though it’s quite a boring thing to do after going through 10 of 50 pages.
I am still up to no good. I will come back with more tales to tell after I am over and done with.
What is it like? A part of “Broken Social Scene”
I remembered refreshing the screen first thing in the morning two months ago when the tickets were first released for purchases on Sistic’s website. How could I miss the one chance I might have to see Broken Social Scene in Singapore live? Yesterday, I found myself waiting outside the Esplanade Concert Hall in silent anticipation. I was a little disappointed that Feist, Amy Millan, Emily Haines are absent from the gig even though I know that there is almost zero chance of having all three of them appear on the same stage unless it was manipulated by Providence’s very own hands.
But it was an awesome two hours. Propelled by the band members who did come, we stood on our ground, rocking to their music. There were times we lost ourselves to the flow and forgot everything around us. At that moment, I gave my whole, undivided attention to the guitars that were waved in the air, the drums that resonated their sullen thoughts, the performers who leaped through the air to shake the earth and the one strong voice in the midst who broke through my defense. I could listen forever to that voice that sings to me.So we wondered after the gig, what it feels like to be in a band. How does it feel like to know you have the power to influence people in that way – to lead the crowds, to break new grounds, to connect the differences? Is that why people become groupies? To share a part of the fame that could be addictive? To unravel the mystery of the charismatic performers who seem to transit between a god-like status on stage and adopt a humanly form off it?
The beauty of this band or at least its greatest appeal to me is that it is made up of successful individuals who are parts of other projects and yet care enough to come together in a fun manner to form a collective cognition we know as the “Broken Social Scene“. It does not restrict the band members from experimenting new grounds and going forth in different directions. It encourages free expression but does not expect you to return. But when you do, it will be there.
Plugging Mosaic Music Festival for bringing some of my favourite artistes to Singapore
It must be good in pairs
Can we ever be patient enough to wait for the right one to come along? Or are we the impatient, the scared, the pessimistic to think that if we do not grab hold of whatever we have, it may never come along our way again? Cast in a world as dynamic as today where the only constant is change, it’s not hard to feel alienated when you are alone by choice or otherwise.
People are together for different reasons – being truly in Love, out of habits, premarital “accidents” and I cannot continue enough to demonstrate the environment, the timing, the fate, the family, the hundred and one reasons that could possibly bind two with a matrimonial loop. But I know there are some living off a borrowed sense of security by being with another, as if their sense of self-worth is established by being “Married” and diminished the moment their marital status reverts back to an unsightly “Single”. Even “Divorced” is more preferable as it indicates having a previous experience of “togetherness” even if it was in the past. Being single makes one persona non grata, if not in physical proximity with the rest, at least in emotions.
To list an example, I was feeling rather disturbed when I visited a new mother at her ward a month back. In the company of married couples, it is not difficult to observe that I am the single disruptive cause to the pattern regularity of relationships in the room. Even though unintentional, the visitors arrived in pairs and stayed that way while crowding around the bed. If I exit and look upon the sight, it was a blissful one – a happy new mother and a grateful new father makes a pair, four pairs of married couples coo-ing over the new baby and another pair fully intent on hopping onto the big matrimonial bandwagon in October.
I am much comforted to know that some couples who are my friends make efforts to be sure that I am not subjected to exclusivity when it comes to outings and dinners but it could be very haunting to be asked on a girls’ night out. The topics that appeared common to them are strangers to me. As they broached on subjects about the cheapest bedsheets in town, the most value-for-money household objects and embarked on an analysis of husbandry behaviourism, i squirmed in my seat never feeling so quite so ignorant. It is not the worst when you feel left out in conversations like this but it is a total horror when all pairs of eyes decide to focus on me and my lack of a partner.
“When do you intend to find a partner?”
“Don’t you think it’s time?”
Knowing the questions were being asked out of concern or even bewilderment does not unnerve me one bit. In fact, I’ll sit and sip my lemon tea and give frozen answers that would stamp down this unwelcome topic in the most efficient manner. How do you explain that if you haven’t found someone, you haven’t found someone? However, what I cannot stand is the diplomatic look of obvious pity and the gentle suggestions that perhaps I should lower my standards since Time is running out on my side. The thing is … if I do not begrudge your couplehood, why do you try to make me resent my singledom? Can the Singles hear their convincing voices anymore seeing how they are drowned in the sea of silent disapproval and vocal exacerbations. Are the “Singles” of equal statuses nowadays as beggars on the streets, doled with sympathetic, understanding looks by the all-knowing couples who secretly questioned their disability to get attached?
Mothers and friends learn to scare young girls whose only aspiration in life is to find a suitable partner for a happily-ever-after.
“Don’t eat too much. You don’t want to get fat and end up unmarried like Auntie Marge.”
“Be more ladylike. Men like their women dainty.”
Since when did the “Single” become the big, bad wolf in the tale of “Little Red Wanna-Get-Married Riding Hood”?
27 Dresses
I was wildly attracted by this poster at Level 1 of Lido when it must have first made its appearance about 3 months ago. First, there is an attractive woman in her svelte figure. Second, there is an element of pink in the poster. Third, it talks about dresses! And all 27 of them, what’s there to not like about it? I am a sucker for beautiful women in beautiful dresses with a secret fantasy that one day, i will join the club. So when there was a sneak preview for it on the 19th, i immediately bought tickets. I am even willing to overlook the exorbitant cab fees that I am saddled. I want instant gratification. Show me her dresses, all of them.
It’s not like i have not already guessed how the storyline is going to be like. “Always a bridesmaid, never the bride” How can they let the heroine of the movie suffer such an ignominious fate especially when she is attractive with a winning smile? It’s not like she looks like the Bride of Chucky to begin with (no pun intended, although Katherine Heigl did, in fact, star the horror sequel of the Bride of Chucky in 1998). And so appears the hero in the form of a journalist, Kevin Doyle, who does write-ups on married couples under the pseudonym “Malcolm Doyle” whom Jane (Heigl) thinks spews the most beautiful stuff.
So yadahyadah, the pair meets under extraordinary circumstances, crosses paths regularly with crossfire because the heroine is always always careless enough to leave behind evidences of her whereabouts, in this case a red Filofax which records all the wedding engagements Jane will attend. The plot develops in such a manner that Jane’s younger sister turns up, falls in love with the boss Jane has been carrying a torch for all along while leaving Jane to nurse her wounds by herself with some help from Kevin.
And of course, Jane’s impression of Kevin got better because of a shared moment and then there will always always come one incident that puts their relationship to a test. Jane will get very angry and Kevin will be very sorry. Kevin goes after Jane and finally …………….
The Good News – They Got Married.
You ask me what’s not to like about this movie? It has a happily everafter ending that all women like to see. But where are the 27 dresses all these while? With the exception of 2 dresses she wore for a prolonged period of time during the start of the movie, the other 25 dresses are kept in the closet with their frills sticking out and each only granted a brief 5 seconds to show off their glory. Oh purleeeease! I paid to see more of those dresses!
Pancakes Day
There are some experiences in life we think we can live without and are fine without. It does not have to be a mind-blowing experience like a bungee jump. It could be just a simple, little joy. Of course when you do not know how it feels, you do not miss it but once you savour the sweetness of it (literally, in my case), you ask yourself “What have I been missing out all my life?”
The above mini pancakes are results of KW’s strong and steady hands as he swirled and beat the concoction into submission. Sublime.
Su was also good enough to have us over at her place for a potluck dinner and a card session. You can see she advocates a healthy living by providing the fresh broccoli and sweet carrots above. And poor Long, better luck next time!
090108
The curling spirals from a lit cigarette end provided a smoky screen between her and the ceaseless flowing traffic of vehicles on her left, subtly shielding her vision so that she could concentrate on the thick yellow book held in her hands. It even provided a right type of atmosphere as she read about Kirby, the firefighter.
The moment the lit cigarette came to the end of its short lifespan and the smoky screen, unceremoniously dispersed by the harsh elements of earth, she laid down her book, her tired eyes begging for a break. The word ‘fire’ which echoed the storyline formed the residue as her senses filtered back into reality. Looking around, if she was entranced by what she saw, she was consumed by it. There is the spaghetti top worn by a girl walking down the street, the dresses that hung expectantly on discount racks with big bold letters that formed the word ‘SALE’, the nails belonging to the lady at the next table, the scarf which was draped carelessly over a tall Caucasian male, the paper bag, the ‘No Entry’ sign across the road, the canvas canopies put up to shield the rain at a fast food restaurant, the ….. and the list could go on.
Her world had just changed after a story. She was seeing red everywhere, if only in different shades. She could feel it. Her blood pulsing in her veins. The red.
Carousel horses
Picture taken at the East Coast Park, Singapore.
I would have thought that the carousel with all its gaudy colours and fascinating designs would bring many back to a time in their childhood days, a remembrance of the carefree. Imagine my surprise when I tried to look for a poem that would describe my poignant feelings for the carousel and the exuberation of riding on one and I found none!
Instead, the carousel has been described as “smashing through your innocence, as you hold onto a past time” and associated with negativity – “Lost life and lost lovelines encircle camp on the carousel of karma and shattered dreams.” And so i attempted to write one that spoke my feelings.
The carousel went round and round
playing the hypnotic tune that drove me wild.
I forgot about the world outside
when on these colourful horses I ride.
The wind whispered urgently in my ear,
“You are going too fast my dear!”
But what I couldn’t see, i had no fear.
Then the music stopped and died,
the lights dimmed and refused to light.
Still I stood watching and refused to leave,
here I promise myself another day, another time, another moment like this.
I want to visit all the notable carousels in the world.
New Year’s Eve
Captured from Kai’s balcony on the 4th floor as they trudged through the deserted basketball court.
