The Illusion

and so, we make plans.

we try to map out our future.

we make goals to achieve, places to be, things to see.

we create lists of 'stuff I need to do before I turn 30'.

we write down what we want in that one person to share our lives with.

we chart straight routes through open fields.

not realising that we've missed the whole point.

that it is about not knowing. it is never about rigid plans or straight roads.

that in our quest to reach the destination, we forget the journey.

that control is an illusion, and our maps fallible.

that the adventure lies in not knowing.

sometimes in straightjacket perspectives.

and the 'maybes' on the road less traveled.

Shards of Home

"I've knocked for about, ten times now. Hello? Is there any light in that bulb of yours?"

Yes, what bulb? No, you knocked maybe thrice. Come on in.

He made space on the table; papers were strewn all over so he pilled them up in a corner and placed a metal container on them.

"Yeah, well, here's lunch. Sorry they ran out of mustard. Medium rare, as ordered."

What? A burger with no mustard is like, a boat with no propellers, a car with no tyres, a..

"Uhuh, sure. Got any beer?"

He got off his chair and took two bottles from the fridge.

"Your desk looks like a warzone. You ever do any work in here?"

Well, he rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer, I try not to do work in here. After all, it's only my office. I try to do work at home, after work hours.

"Ha. Funny. I think you should have done stand-up."

I think so too. Shouldn't have been a writer. There's no money in it. No, no, swallow, and then talk. Can't have you choking to death in my office. Thanks for the burger, by the way.

"Don't mention it. And if I do choke, and you don't save me, I'm haunting you. I mean it. What are you writing -" he reached for his beer but accidentally pushed the metal container off the table, spilling the contents all over the floor.

"Hell, I'm sorry, dude. Let me pick it up-"

No, it's fine, I got it. Don't move, please. You may damage a piece.

He got down on his knees and reverently placed the pieces back into the box, counting as he went. After he was done, he placed the box in his table drawer.

"Hey," he broke the silence that fell on the room, "If you don't mind my asking, what's with the box?"

It's...a long story. And maybe even a little complicated. Where do I even begin...

~

This is part one of a short story. Let me know what you think!

a

Darkness and All Her Friends

I had this strange conversation with a great friend yesterday. Incidentally, she's the first peer I know who will be getting married. Over the course of all these years, she's inspired me to be a better person, she's there with the reminder that God is always here, that He never left and will never leave.

I told her some of my small issues, that the people who love you the most, hurts you the most.

She answered, of course, if not, you didn't love them. She said man will fail you, man will break your trust.

But to that, I have no reply. I mean, I used to believe in people. I did. I believed in the good in people. Now, when a friend asks for help, my first reaction is to be wary. I guess this is what life does to you, it makes you jaded and.. I don't know.. old. I always thought that I won't give in, that I won't let life change me that way, to be something that, in my opinion, was less than who I was.

Now? I don't know. Even without realising it, I've changed. A year ago, I could have sworn I wanted to remain single for the rest of my life, but that was just me being scared and immature. I didn't want the responsibility of taking care of another life when mine was all over the place. I was scared, I guess, to open up my heart and be hurt again. And then, circumstances change and someone walked in.

And I sincerely thought, this was it, but it was not to be, and she walked out. Take it from someone who's been there, timing matters, more than you know. I hear it from my older friends, but never thought much about it.

I mean, how can anyone not turn jaded?

I told her I am an optimist. My friend replied really? I couldn't tell from your blog.

To which I said with a laugh, darkness makes a better muse than sunshine and butterflies.

She said I don't know, darkness will swallow up hope and optimism.


I don't know about that. I think hope and optimism contrasts more starkly against the darkness. That if not for darkness, you won't see it.

And at the end of the day, I know that the darkness will recede and disappear. It always does. Hope and optimism won't. Maybe this will be the part of me that will remain constant.
as

The Problem

If there is a problem with the world,
It is that people think that sad endings in movies are the real endings.

If there is a problem with the world,
It is that everyone wants change, but few are willing to sacrifice for it.

It is that money solves everything.

It is that faith starts wars.

It is that hope is a lie.

It is that love is a weakness.

If there is a problem with the world,
It is that morality and honour has a price.

It is that humanity thrives on inhumanity.

It is that peace must be bought by fire and blood.

But, above all, if there is a problem with the world,
It's not you,

It's me.

Say What You Need to Say

Recently, I've been watching this tv show called Lie to Me. And, of course, I know that shows are often inaccurate portrayals of life, but sometimes, they are.

While the show was strictly about half truths and whole lies, it made me reflect a little on my character and our society today. Yes, I would say that I am a very good liar, but that's not the point here.

My point is, why don't people say what they want to say? Putting aside controversial remarks and questions, why is it so rare that people tell you exactly what is on their mind? Of course, this may bring about anarchy under some circumstances, but I am talking about answers to the simplest questions.

"How are you today?"

And I would reply that I am fine, when in actual fact, my cat ran away, someone broke in and killed my dog then set my house on fire etcetc. Why is it so hard to tell a person, "Oh, not too good, but thanks for asking."

Of course, there'd be nothing that I could do for you if all of the above actually happened, but I've found that everyone wants to be heard. You disagree? Well, when you hurt, why do you write songs or poems or create art? I write, and then put it here, because I want to be heard and understood.

So, yeah, why? Is it because vulnerability is a weakness? Because, it's not. To be vulnerable is probably one of the greatest acts of courage. It ranks right up there with picking up a spider with your bare hands.

You ever heard the saying, 'Life is not complicated. We make it so.'? I think it'll be so much easier to live this way then trying to figure out what someone is saying or not saying all the time, trying to read in between the lines and trying to understand the thought behind the word.

Or maybe it's time I realised that people actually say the most when they say the least.
as

People Always Leave

I wanted to save this post for the next few days, but writing is what I do 'whenever hearts are heavy and company not wanted'. I thought this post could not be more juxtaposed with the previous one I wrote, about people and how they find you.

But, come to think of it, it is more of a continuation of the same train of thought. The train just stopped me a little ways farther down the line, in a different station, that's all.

To the point, and you'd have to have read the previous post to fully understand this.

Is there a reason two people walk into each other's lives and then walk out of it again? It's not that they were mere acquaintances, these two people were friends, maybe lovers. They come in, and change your life, as you do theirs, and all of a sudden, they are gone.

People invest a part of their souls into people. That's how change occurs. How can a person, who is so much a part of you, who played so big a part in the person you are today, just disappear? And when you meet again, its two different people. To all intents and purposes, two strangers.

It's just.. difficult to comprehend. That someone so important to you, someone who you were important to, becomes a stranger, just like that.

Because people always leave, right? Sometimes, yeah, they do come back. But you read between the lines, and you figured out that, sometimes, no, they don't.

No, they don't. But then again, is it people who left?

Or was it you?
as

People and Fate

'People are what is important in your life.'

I don't remember who said it, or where I heard it, but so far, this statement has been true. I wonder sometimes at the people that God has put in my life without my knowing it. I am not talking about the people that you meet because you decided to do so, like a girl you think is quite pretty and you go up to her and say hi. Of course these people are very important too.

I am talking about the people that you bump into on the street, the people that fate - lets call it fate - pushed on you, for no apparent reason. I count people such as these to be among the most important in my life. I'd be hard pressed to recall where or how we met, or even how we got close, but, yet, here we are.

You ever think about it? About the roads that you choose - or stumbled on - that made you this person. About the paths that you walked - maybe even crawled - just to be in that exact moment to meet that one significant person. And then you wonder about the byways they took, just to be who they are, just to meet you there.

It's more than I can comprehend.

But yet, it is these people that have changed my life. I have no reason to know Jon, but I do, and God has used him to open doors for me. I went unwillingly to a new church - which I now attend - and I've been blessed with someone I can actually look up to. I walked into Life College, and I met Andrea and Lynette, two people who are so capable and so full of life.

Andrea told me, "Jing, let's go Genting!" to which I replied, a little non-enthusiastically, "Really? Who with?"
She said, "I don't know, I'll find a few people."

And that's how I met Crystal. No reason whatsoever, just someone who wanted to go Genting, meeting someone who went reluctantly - reluctantly until told that a pretty girl was going.

The closest friends that I have miraculously turned up during a painful time in my life. I've known them for years, but somehow, at that exact moment when I needed people most, they turned up.

It is a bizarre phenomenon, if you think about it. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever you want. It's complicated.

But at the same time, it isn't. It's really simple. It's just two people, meeting under circumstances that seems like a line out of a best-seller, somehow making an instant connection and knowing that they'd be in the other's life in a significant way.

And neither life will ever be the same again.
as

Down in the Dumps

I wonder why people can't just stay sad for a little while.

I have this violent urge to go out and do stuff whenever I am feeling sad. I need to be constantly keeping my mind busy and my body in action, just so for that moment, I'd be okay. I want to be alone, just so I'm allowed to be quiet, but even then I just want to stop thinking about it.

Why can't people stay sad for awhile? Why does everyone around them try to make their day better? Because nothing helps, nothing. Not music, not books, not deep conversations. They only feed the disquiet so it'll go away for a few hours, but then it comes back hungry again.

Why can't people, you and I, just accept that it is okay to be sad. It is okay to be down and you don't need to drown it out. You don't need to feed it with music to make it go away. It's okay to not want to be happy, at least for that moment.

Maybe, just embrace it, that for now, sad is what you will be.  Accept it, don't drown it out, don't feed it or starve it, don't ignore it.

You'll be okay. You're just sad.
as

The Wall

I don't understand. There's a wall, and I keep throwing myself on it. Beating it with everything I have, hitting it repeatedly.

It's not breaking. I don't understand.

If it doesn't break soon...I will.
as

Through the Eyes of a Child

She kept quiet as I told her my tale. She doesn't normally keep quiet.

It's nice, you know? When I need someone to listen, they don't give me advice and try to point me in the right direction. All she did was listen, and then she told me her story.

It was only later, after a day or two, she wrote me a short note.

She wrote 'It is a blessing to love someone, and it's worth it because that's what true love is.'

At that time I couldn't, and wouldn't agree.

But now, some weeks later, they make more sense to me.

It's in line with the only definition of love that I agree on.

The bible says '..it is not self-seeking...it keeps no record of wrongs..it always trusts, always hopes always perseveres.'

It is selfless, it forgives, it always trusts, always hopes and it perseveres.

And if I can't understand this, then I have no business trying anymore.
as