hooked on to: If i never get to heaven by Javier.
I typed this post halfway yesterday while desperately fighting a battle to stop my eyelids from drooping and doing a shut-down act. a tiring day it had been, after the meagre 4 hours sleep the previous day and whatnot. physically beat. emotionally a little drained. Cookie monster is afterall blue.
And when my heart is overwhelmed, O Lord, lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
There are so many thoughts i'm dying to pen down. In the past 2 weeks of my blogging comatose, events have come and gone and my mood has been fluctuating up and down like the tip of the weighing scale (yours truly). The only difference is that the former bobs up and down while the latter goes up and stays there for a good long time. Ah.. exams have passed by and left, ushered by the strangely peaceful way my heart bids them farewell. Let go and let God, as you may call it. and letting God take charge never fails to provide much relief.
Me and suzanne's great plan materialised on 7th December in the form of a 3D2N Bintan trip with mark, clement, gabriel & wenlee. more on that later.
Monday 6th December. met up with Rudy for an outrageously filling breakfast at Killiney, afterwhich i proceeded to collect the Bintan tickets from the travel agency. My emotional tank must have unscrewed itself a little loose that day because as i wandered alone around Citylink, browsed the books at MPH, strolled down the street to Peninsula Plaza, everything felt so strangely surreal. Maybe it was the cool rainy weather. Maybe it was the gray clouds. Maybe it was the Paulo Coelho book i had been reading.
All of a sudden i felt unusually aware of my surroundings. Streams of people rushed past. tired, happy, business-like, meticulously dolled up, I wondered what kind of lives they lead. I tried to imagine what's on their minds. Were they just contemplating what's up for lunch, or are they like me, creating scenarios of their lives in their head, where the past, present and future converge into a point of realisation, that the Hand that connected them all is still in works and moving.
An old man in ragged clothes was squatting by the side of the road, a cigarette in his mouth. I wondered if he ever knew what life had had to offer. A young man donning the ubiquitous white long-sleeved shirt was standing outside a third-class jewellery shop desperately trying to hand out flyers to seemingly uninterested passers-by. myself not exempted. Paper wastage has always been high on my no-no list. I thought to myself, is this all that he ever wants out of his life? to gain cheap satisfaction from the few people who bothered to extend a hand and took a miserable piece of paper? be it out of sympathy or the sheer attempt to brush him away.
I did a merry-go-round around Peninsula Plaza in search for the almost non-existent travel agency. A mildly expressionless young lady sat behind the long table of the tiny office. She was dressed in the standard office wear; A reasonably decent long shirt and a black A line skirt. Was dressing up just face her 2 colleagues in the minuscule travel agency, which i daresay must have led a lot of people to frustration with its impossibly UN-strategic location, ever an enjoyable thing to look forward to? How sad it is for a girl to dress up only for herself to see.
And as i took a second look at these people, i looked at myself. There are so many things i want to do, so many things i'm looking forward to learning. I look ahead into the future, and as i drown in the loss of ability of speech, all i see within is longing, hope. and all i know is that whatever that God has placed in store for me, i want them all so very badly.
Borrowed Waylon's keyboard this morning to practice for the upcoming Hall Opening Ceremony performance. My inadequacy saddens me so much. I so badly want to pick up piano again. The language of music seems so familiar yet so foreign. so near yet so far. so seemingly easy yet so difficult to conquer.
I want so much out of life. And life wants so much out of me. It sounds deceivingly symbiotic. And yet, Life to me is no less than a game of tug-of-war. Here i am pulling so hard at the rope, and a divine force at the other end demands just as much.
Days have passed, and my desperate attempt to relive that day's emotion seem a little futile, if not foolish. Listening to If i never get to heaven by Javier, If you believe and Angel's eyes by Jim Brickman on my itune list back to back (it's the coincidental alphabetical order), tearing doesn't seem like a stupid thing to do.
...
This is a little anticlimax. but congratulate me. i just finished half a can of Pringles. swimming pool, here i come.
