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[personal profile] methrowrock
Reclining against a creaky chair, as the night winds weave around dust-covered figurines and worn shelves, it seems that this is the peace that I have been looking for. Maybe it is the winding down of days, the ripping of sheets from a barely-there and badly-frayed calendar, the trickling of minute minute-sand that is especially visible at the end of the year. People begin to seek closure, attempting to repackage their shapeless days into sizable chunks of meaning and epiphanies. The retrofitted motorcycle emits a syncopated snarl, flaying the silence of the night. Rubber tyres grind gravel, the fan-blades slice through buttery air, the traffic lights take turns to wink: there is a muted and neutral precision that makes it feel that everything that you see, hear, touch, smell, taste is there for you. This world belongs to you. It exists for you. And when you reciprocate by immersing yourself fully in the world, with the world, a palpable calm settles over you, washing away worries and woes. Until, of course, this world that you see cracks and morphs into something else, shuddering from the fractures it had concealed. Self-contentment is a funny little thing, always evaporating just at the point of crystallizing. Ephemeral and fleeting, it lasts as long as, and is as invisible as, the air aspirated for its fricative descriptions. But for now, the hues burnish bright. The surroundings quiver with vibrant surreality. And you breathe, breathe, breathe, filling yourself top-full (not with direst cruelty lolol) with air so crisp that it could adorn your lungs with a thousand paper cuts. Gruesome, but you know what I mean.



I have long lost my original thread of thoughts. The theatrics have taken over, what else is new. Hahaha. The week concluding 2011 has been really enjoyable. It has been hectic, running around meeting different people, but ultimately, rewarding. Friday was a busy-busy day. Skyping with Friend #2, being scolded to sleep, walking around Jurong East interchange as an open-mouthed zombie. Then, meeting Jia for a 3 hour teatime at Jimmy Monkey, pouring rain and rivers on roads be damned. It was nice, catching up with each other while indulging in a little cynical critiques (fine, mean) of certain people and phenomena. After that, it was off to Hubae's church musical with Gwilys and QW, followed by giddy introductions to Hubae's friends whom we will probably not see again. Haha. Christmas weekend was a quiet affair spent with the family. :) Boxing Day was NJSG-time! Had a nice dinner at EWF while listening to moving and heartfelt realizations of the-one-who-cannot-say-no, as well as teasing Ememe about her facultyfriend. -instant blush- HAHA. Leechul finally showed up after two hours, but all is forgiven after certain updates were given. ^^ We have never seen her smile so much, nor so glowing. Green tea macchiatos really make a difference, haha. Hung around playing Deal, stuffing ice-cream into our faces, laughing at Dimples' always-inaccurate placing of particles and aprostrophe asses HAHA, finding our fictional friend Joanne in Starbucks, experimenting with Siri in a British accent which culminated in an insult-exchanging contest via the machine. Ah, everyday we are p-ru-ning~ Tuesday was the friendly against Bowen, lunch, then heading to Mustafa to get Azlin's luggage. Which was quite a task, because they HAD to be pretty, in additional to being functional and cheap. So we walked around, encouraging each other to buy things, finding bags with pockets to put *private* items, browsing around randomly for a few hours. Headed home with Chan-xiong and her gudaguda trolley-bag before meeting Gwilys, Hubae, and QW to buy Gracie's present. Had a side-splitting ride there with Gwilys, making excuses for ourselves for everything and guffawing at her attempts to fbjack people.

Wednesday: Met Jia at another twee indie cafe in Tiong Bahru. :) Walked around, got lost, found ourselves in the Wonderland that is BooksActually, before meeting Yipei to get Nellie's present = mutual confessions of anxiety about going to her party, mutual gratitude for the presence of each other, laughing at her suddenly-alive demeanour when talking about iPod games, spamming questions about her impending exchange. Dawdled around before heading to Nellie's party, where Jo joined us soon after. It was a tad awkward, but conversation topics quickly unspooled themselves as we knitted one long yarn after another. Decade-old friends, heh. Thursday was the day when I continued my track record for oversleeping :/ Sigh. Thankfully, not late enough for training, which was productive and fun. Dinner, where Angsty Azlin made her fabled appearance after our allusions to MI4 spoilers, hahaha. Long bus-ride home, filled with faux-intellectualism and observations of obvious tanlines, hehe. Lounged around on the sofa once home, watched In Time With You, wished for a 李大仁 in ma lyfe, formed the Mutual Appreciation Club (that only has 2 members, true to its name), skyped Friend #2, got scolded to sleep once again, headed to HCI for Sarang's friendly, headed home, and holla! More lounging, a sort of return to the natural habitat. Hehe.

Natural habitat = watching shows. In Time With You is shaping out to be a pretty good drama, with refreshing interpretations of age-old tropes about friendships and relationships. There was a line that struck me deeply- 初老症狀第八條: 懒得交新朋友的原因,是因为懒得从头交代自己的人生. As we grow older, we accumulate reactions and actions that fall into a general pattern. Something like a scatter-plot diagram? The endless hours and days are represented on the x-axis, stretching on eastwards, while the intangible stuff of living are represented by the boundless y-axis. Whatever we act/feel/say/think on whatever days are marked accordingly on this graph, and although there are an infinite number of points to indent, there is a discernible pattern as to how we do so. A base personality of sorts. With old friends, because we have witnessed so many of the notches, this is particularly perceptible, making it easy to feel the indentations under our fingertips. And it is comforting, tracing the nuanced contours of another's life with closed eyes, reading them like Braille. Yet, not really, because once in a while, you run into bumps: outliers on the sprawling outskirts of the graph. As we grow older, there are more and more of these outliers, which we have to spend more and more time explaining to new people that we meet, which gets more and more tiring. However, that is part of the fun, ain't it? A blank sheet on day 0, a blotted sheet on day 100, a blotchy sheet on day 1000, and so on. Connecting the dots, dappling the days of our lives, running our fingerpads over the faint marks, the dark lines, the gouged potholes.. I hope I won't forget the exhilaration of rollercoastering in 2D.

That is linked to another noisy, messy train of thoughts. Throughout this past week, I have met old friends, becoming-old friends, new friends, and everyone of them has brought me a little bit of joy. I'm not sure why exactly this is. Friendship is the ship that never sinks, hoho, probably, and not only because you are Helen and there are a thousand fleets out there, but because each ship is potentially a floating home with steely hulls that you can live in. A home where you can place your feelings, memories, and the locked trunks of your heart in, and bob on by feather-light. I was suddenly seized by a minor panic attack while watching MI4 the other day. Sandstorms swirled and cars screeched onscreen, and witnessing the gap between that artificial reality and my own, I was jolted to grasp how fixed and how fatal mine was. They are pretending that that is real; I am pretending that that is real while knowing that it is unreal; I know that THIS is real while pretending that this is unreal. It took me a while to snap out of it, but it was a temporary measure until I registered that it did not matter that you were confined to this body, this perspective, because you had friends. A very-duhhh realization, yes, but only now did it sink in through my thick skull. That is why people talk, why people share stories, why people divulge secrets: for the slivers of other lives that you could (not) +/- did (not) have lived. There is an exchanging of pieces of souls, and soon enough, we are walking patchwork quilts of different lives- dissonant, raggedy, but always ready to warm another and hug them close until they fall asleep. That is something heartwarming to think about, how in the process of sharing ourselves with others, we begin to resemble them a little as well. And also, it wouldn't matter that you would end, because there are pockets of you sprouting up all over the world, like stubborn lilacs unyielding to the sun.

Happy New Year, everyone. :)

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