Beautiful Sunshine of the Spotted, Unclean, Uncertain Mind

First to fly. Fly, my straying, disjointed, incoherent thoughts.

So here we are 13 weeks into the term. Most of the projects are done, so I finally find some time in my hands. Enough, perhaps, for me to start thinking about weird stuff when I have too much time.

Perhaps it's the school load. Perhaps I'm losing my edge. But I can't seem to find anything to blog about. Nothing spectacular, nothing thought provoking. It's not that my life has suddenly become boring. School work might be draining, but it leaves me with a sense of accomplishment, bullocks to what my critics say. It's not that the world suddenly lacks thought-provoking issues. There must be a hundred and one things that I could probably think of and pen down.

Maybe I'm really losing my edge. I haven't had a wild idea hit me in some time. I haven't really felt "alive" in some time. Even the treks up Bukit Timah haven't left me with as good a feeling as I had wanted them to leave. Maybe the whole school/activities/deadlines thing has numbed my mind to the full effects of taking on a trail/finishing up an assignment/doing up an interesting blog post. The things I've done, the things I've heard, the rubbish I've dished out... all seem a blur. And I wonder why.

Maybe I'm losing touch with myself. Maybe I'm losing touch with God. Maybe life was meant to be like this... with people sometimes feeling lost and just drifting on with their lives. Even the "retina burn" scare didn't leave me shaken for very long. I mean, what sane person would easily forget that green auras kept appearing in his vision for one day? What sane person could be sitting nervously in the A and E one day and laughing over his amplified astigmatism that same night? What sane person would simply forget that perhaps that ordeal was meant to teach me something? What sane person asks so many questions without really knowing why and how to answer them? What sane person bores his blog readers with mundane details such as these?

Gee. I long for some time with my parents just to laze around and chat. I long for time to go out with old friends. I long for time to build new friendships. I long for more inspiration to write. I long for the times in Indonesia just going around the old house, climbing the tree across the road, riding the motocycle, feeding the mosquitoes. I miss being me. -Jimmy

Oh Heartless Me

This post is dedicated to my dear Grandpa "Gong" and my uncle "Om Kokoh".

I found out last week that my mother's younger brother had just died. He had suffered a stroke a week earlier. When she told me about his death, I was still having my dinner and watching some old VCDs. So I raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Oh, is it?"

It bothers me how I feel so detached about my uncle's death. It scares me that it might be a reflection of my feelings towards death.

In my defence, let me state that I have spent more time in university than all the time I spent with him combined. That's something bad about just having the nuclear family staying in Singapore while the rest of the extended family is still in Indonesia. Add to the fact that I have not returned to my parents' hometowns since I enlisted, I think I can safely say that I've grown detached from my extended family. Perhaps this apathic nature can be traced to this detachment.

But am I really detached from him? He was the same uncle who always carried with him a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a pack of "Pagoda" mints. He was the uncle who gave a wide smile and a nod as a greeting, his long hair seemingly dancing with a life of their own after the nod. How come I don't feel attached to these fond memories?

My father told me that the only people you truly want to say goodbye to are the people who have passed away. And it makes sense. Do you say goodbye to your everyday friend? No, cos you assume that you'll see them again soon. Do you say goodbye to someone who's migrating to another country? No, cos you assume that either one of you can visit the other. Do you say goodbye to a terminally-ill person on the deathbed? Probably, but you secretly hope that you can see him/her again the next day. Normal goodbyes are merely "see you laters".

Then, when a person leaves this world (hopefully to a happier place), everyone realises that so many things have been left unsaid. Everything that you truly want to say would fall on unhearing ears. Even your tears fall on dead skin. And that is when you truly want to say goodbye. But you can't.

So what's the point in all this? Well, I guess it's just like what the chain letters say. "Treasure each day as if it were your last." But also, I guess it's about saying goodbye in your hearts. The deceased do not hear your cries or other outpourings of emotions. (Their spirit or soul or ethereal form might, but that's a totally different argument.) Ultimately, you have to deal with the pain or anguish yourself. And this is when you say goodbye. Keep the good memories, remember their little legacies, but say goodbye to them. -Jimmy

Short Story Project - 7th March

Sam impatiently read through the intelligence reports again. The feeling had begun as a gentle nibbling at the back of his mind, but that nibbling slowly became a gnawing. Then, as if this imaginary, now what would best describe it? Thing? This imaginary thing seemed satisfied with the taste, and it began biting out chunks of his mind. At the end of it all, Sam was not sure whether he was feeling light-headed or heavy-headed.

Sam re-read the paragraph he thought he had understood. By themselves, the words made perfect sense, but strung together into a sentence and into a paragraph, Sam only saw squiggles and line breaks. And that gnawing was still eating into him.

Munch, munch.

The light-headed/heavy-headed sensation left Sam confused. This confusion made him more irritable. This irritable nature made him lose concentration. This went against his very nature of being focused and hardworking. And that added to the gnawing going on in his mind, worsening his light-headed/heavy-headed sensation. It was a vicious cycle.

Munch, munch.

Why, Sam? What would you get out of it? Sam disregarded the thoughts, trying to convince himself that they belonged with the gnawing. He had to look through the intell reports. He had to find a weakness in the enemy formation. He had to find out why Col. Chua had been so cold lately. He had to find out the optimal weapon mix for his suit. He had to recalibrate its gyroscopic actuators. He had to deal with all the problems in the world.

Munch, munch.

“ARGH!” Sam stood up, grabbed the chair he was sitting on and tossed it across the briefing room. He pulled at his flight-suit pockets, pulling them in every direction. (In hindsight, he wondered what good that could have done to release his anger.) He kicked another chair away, then stomped towards the wall, driving his fist into the cool, metallic surface. The wall did not yield to his punch but instead sent a jarring shock through his skeletal structure into his cranium. What the f**k are you doing, Sam? Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not some superman, you’re just a boy. You’re just a lonely teenager who can’t even read a paragraph of the intell report properly, dammit. Silly boy. You think you can even punch through this Effiminium wall? Get a grip. You’ll have these bruises on your knuckles for a few days just to remind you what a silly person you are. Sam sobbed. His knuckles throbbed with pain; nerve endings firing electrical signals wildly. He couldn’t punch through a wall. He had to remember that. He had to write it down. He had to write a letter to his family. -Jimmy

Of Sleepovers, Sex and Consequences

Everything has consequences. Even leaving your car unwashed.

This post was supposed to appear on Valentine's day. It was just supposed to state "My 22nd Lonely Valentine" and end off there. And it was meant to be a dare. So well, 3 weeks on, and I still don't have much to really opine about. But I'll try, ya?

There's been a hail of activities recently, and I sometimes wonder whether I should balance my time, or just say heck to balancing and lead an imbalanced life. So I guess I've been leading an imbalanced life, neglecting my writing as a form of escape. Anyway, in line with the Valentine's day post this was supposed to be, allow me to talk about something more controversial. Like premarital sex.

So it was another one of those days during the reccess week when we figured that we had enought of our books and wanted to spend a few hours just chilling and enjoying life. So the 3 of us decided on another sleepover. (Nope, no Brokeback details in this blog. I'm perfectly straight.) The last time we did a sleepover, we shelved our plan to climb Bukit Timah in the morning, so this time couldn't possibly be so bad.

Anyway,it was already close to 3 in the morning, having wasted the night away watching the racist cartoon known as The Simpsons. We were tucking ourselves in for the night when the topic of sex came out. Well, that wouldn't be so strange considering it was 3 guys together. One of them first talked about his first time. Another said that he had problems even finding a girl. I refused to comment. The others wondered what my stand about premarital sex. I am against it, so I said so. It then became a "what's your position and justify it" session. The other's were not against it, claiming that it's no longer a conservative society and the norms are changing. Also, they used the "Appeal to majority": if many other people they know are doing it, they see no harm in doing it themselves. I wasn't sure why my stand on premarital sex was such. And I thus gave a very weak argument.

The next day, I did some thinking. Is it truly alright to engage in premarital sex? The Appeal to majority argument seemed very convincing. Why do I have such a strong view on it? Probably not the many moral education lessons back in JC and secondary school. Perhaps it's what my parents have ingrained in me. Or it might be that I'm afraid that I might contract sexually transmitted diseases. (At this point, some people might dismiss all the STD talks as mere "scare tactics" to keep the illegitimate birthrate low. Call me gullible or call me a scaredy cat, but I believe "prevention is better than cure". Or maybe it's "better safe than sorry".)

Ultimately, I dun think we should even fret over things such as why premarital sex is good or bad. I think that we can take charge of our own lives and live it how we want to; no one has any right to say what they should or should not do. Of course, education must be provided to inform individuals of the consequences of their actions. We are responsible for our own lives. Every little facet carries its own consequence, be it the naughty video in our cell phones, or every careless comment about the other races. With that thought in mind, I put off reading my textbooks and treated myself to a few games on the computer. -Jimmy