The old man at home.

My father - my dad.

Friends of mine would say I don't talk much of my dad.

I'd like to say that he's a man of few words, yet on the contrary, he can be so noisy he drives me nuts.

When I was just a little girl, and my brother was just a blob of fats lying in the cot, an incident that happened was imprinted in my memories. It wasn't that big a deal when I come to think of it now, but it was, then. My dad had to report for reservist on my birthday. For any little toddler, a birthday is when the world stops for you, and you alone, and so, I wailed and bawled, when my dad's world simply wouldn't stop for me.

During the first few years of my life, my dad was my fort - withstanding the storms, tsunamis, lightning, thunder and all creepy crawlies for me, most importantly, my mother.

As I grew older, the affections, in a way, tipped the scales to that of a lumpy blob of brother I had. Perhaps, my dad simply had no idea how to dote on his little girl. But, every time he came home, he came back with something nice for my brother, and none for me. Initially, I started to resent it, threw tantrums and all. In the long run, I got used to it and simply shut both eyes whenever it happened.

I grew up speaking english at home. My parents were english educated. My dad's Mandarin, to be honest, is pathetic. Yet he didn't give up trying. Everytime he learnt a new phrase, he'll pepper every single sentence he attempted in Mandarin with THAT particular phrase. I would always grimace at the sound of it.

He used to copy new words and their meanings from dictionaries on small pieces of paper so that he could learn them whilst he was on the road. His many attempts to share them with me didn't work out as well as he would have liked, yet, little to his knowledge, one particular word stuck to me all these years, only because he was always mentioning it.

I learnt the true meaning and usage in Literature in secondary school and amusingly, I fell in love with the word. That's the title of my blog - soliloquy.

He used to make me stay awake on buses to recognise road names. As everyone knows, it absolutely didn't work. I'm still the road idiot.

Now, at 21, my dad's no longer my fort. He's a friend at times, a dad at times, nonetheless, sometimes he still irritates the hell out of me, on purpose. Apparently, I'm still 7 to him, and it seems that it's going to stay that way. He still thinks I can't make my way round this island. Even now, he still thinks I took Mass Communications in polytechnic.

This old man I have at home, is turning old. I see the white hairs sticking out of his head, I see the wrinkles forming, I see the aches and pains he has now that he didn't use to have, but he's still that 30 year old man I knew all my life.

I admire his responsibility to this household, by being able to put up with my mother for so many years, for providing whatever he can for us, despite being almost jobless, for buying food that I like, and nagging at me whenever I finish it, for giving me the same trait he has - being sentimental, to all things, even inanimate objects.

He has his quirky thinking, like how he refused to repair our water heater for one month, and made us boil water to bathe, just to "let us have a feel of how it was like last time".

Sigh, this old man I have at home, does drive me nuts.

I did it!

Perseverance does pay off. After countless tries to perfect the art of falling in style, I did it! I managed to stand! Without even Cadence or Angel, but just the house board! That 2 times down half the length of the cable ski park was enough to make all the falls and bruises forgivable. Came back to a grinning Sham and Ikel and a big hug from Mike, such a pity the girl wasn''t there to see and only realised one hour late.

It doesn't matter, babe.

Many thanks, hugs and kisses to the girl, the guy, Long and Mike for my surprise birthday cake! Boy, am I glad it was Andy's actual birthday and not mine! It was hilarious and everyone there had great fun watching the man and the instigator, Mike, riding BUTT NAKED around the cable ski park. It did take a lot of persuasion and no doubt, beers to get that going.

The long wait for this day was worth it. My bruised ankles and torn blisters will heal.

But nothing, can replace the exhilaration of getting where you set out to go. Now, I can start planning for my Angel 130 complete with bindings, my vest and helmet by the end of the year!

The only problem is, how am I supposed to carry that almost 30kg of weight back from Batam?

Impossible is nothing.

We can then all look forward to the party, if it surfaces, after Mike's operation.

Somehow or rather, the injuries don't scare us a tiny bit. Seeing the determination the riders display, just makes you motivated to go out there even more. The busted knees, twisted ankles, bruised arms, aching necks, water clogged brains and missing noses, will not stop us.

All in all, I did prove Errol wrong, I tried my hardest and did it.

Without a pro board, with a loose helmet and a vest that constantly rides up.

We are all closet lesbians.

Ever had a song running continuously through your head whilst in the midst of something?

"Now, I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to use you, just to have somebody by my side.And I don't want to hate you, I don't want to take you, but I don't want to be the one to cry."

Not a catchy song, nor a hit in the charts, but a song that runs deeper than it seems. Deafening like a siren, of warning, of forebode, an omen of the worst sorts. Words of that melody do not fit seamlessly into the context, yet hinting of something far more explosive.

Do you plunge in it, regardless its depth, ignoring the disclaimer staring straight back at you?

Do you pause to think, or blame it on something that's totally within your control?

Is it for the thrill, or is it to prove the fact that you live only once?

No particular feelings to be pinpointed, no questions to be asked, no sequel to it, it will just be a one off thing. Don't bother asking me about it, cos it's worth nothing to those uninvolved.
When you feel the blood rushing to your head, and all you want to do is scream, not to be heard, but to bring your mind back to reality, it is time to do something about it.

Conscious enough to tell yourself to be otherwise, sober enough to tell yourself to blame the raging emotions on an inanimate object, sane enough to know what you're doing is wrong.

With these, one should know when to slap yourself. Hard.
Would the words mouthed, be an attempt to prevent a disaster on your side, or that of mine?
The flashbacks, haunting, forcing me to squirm and grimace. What do you actually do, when you started off with the right foot, and somehow in the process, you stumble and get on the wrong foot? Would you leave the path entirely, when that trip in the road is just a tiny aspect of it? Or would you make the best out of it, attempt to correct it, and act as per normal, like nothing has ever happened before?

It's not a reason for celebration. But, it has happened. It will lay buried, deep amongst the debris of the pumping organ inside of me.

Hold the judging and all, these are merely, a play of words. Form the image you perceive, will you, and hold on to that. It's all but part of your mind. Nothing's been said, nothing's been done.

The uncountable interpretations of it all, a mystery to us all.

I saw that playing in your head.

Despite the lack of sleep and overdose of toxins over the past few days, I awoke thoroughly rejuvenated. Ignoring the minor disappointments - not being able to get full attendence, I really have each and every one of my girls to thank for making it such a beautiful night.

A quiet afternoon, just catching up with Sufang, watching people go by, unfazed by the earlier downpour of T-rexes and killer whales. The air was quiet, with an odd sense of comfort and tranquility hanging in the atmosphere. Concerns were raised, questions answered, doubts were clarified, views were shared, just through that mere couple of hours, the distance between us shortened by non-quantitative measures.

Settlers' seemed to change the setting all together. We were seemingly brought back to secondary school days, where it was all more real and a lot more carefree-ness. The games took the lead weights that was weighing us down away. The laughter, took all unfamiliarity away from us.

That, made Wala Wala the perfect ending to sum up the entire night. One can only laugh in recognition of the familiar indecisiveness of ours. Taking a whole ten minutes and many queries shot at the Wala staff before we changed our minds to something that was staring at us straight in our faces. With that, Wala's menu was questioned down to the very last item.

At last, we've made our getaway plans somewhat concrete, the very first of ours, I pray not the last, but the start of many to come. No doubt a tiny one, it's still a baby step to what we've been trying so hard to accomplish.

Wrapping up the night with a miniature road trip, one that we can only long for, forever pending, forever planning, never concrete, I fell asleep, with a smile on my face with much appreciation, for the best 21st birthday gift I could ever receive...






And woke up late for work 4 hours later.


Someone who keeps my head in the clouds and my feet on the ground.

That's who I need.

That's who I want.

Going down memory lane

How time has flown.

Soulfood madhouse days

Chillout sessions with the Jing Jang Gang

I'm missing all of that. Nowadays work is swallowing us whole, not even bothering to spit out the bones and all. We all spend more time in office than anywhere else.

Further, it's exasperating how the gang is always not at full force this days, cos of work commitments at times, when one can only sigh and lament, yet charge head first into it.

Briefly went through my work schedule in my head earlier and now, I am craving so much for a day, just one, when I can just put everything down, and head for some quiet place where I can read in peace.

To fully immerse myself in that of another's world, to let go of everything momentarily, to feel someone else's pain, hurt, joy, thrills, fears and experiences.

I'm needing that.

It's time to step out of my skin, breathe the fresh air a little, fully experience the rush of emotions once again.

Classic moments.

Late night with the girls always bring us to questions we always have no answers for. Only hypothetical analysis we come up with, hand in hand with the benefits of doubt we try so hard to hold. At times, it's plain tough to hold fort, to get a firm grip on this ever changing backdrop we have behind us. Yet, we're doing fine my dears, with the occassional hiccups and hitches we come across, we're still a reason for celebration.

Like how on impulse I messaged Errol, we are all nothing without friends. As true to the word, we are what our past makes us out to be. We are like climbing plants, constantly searching, constantly trying to reach to higher areas, to touch the sky, to get to where we want.

Friends are the fences that assist us in doing so. They're our crutches. My support. I love every single one of them. In any event were I to die the next moment, one of my biggest regret would be not letting them know how much they mean to me.

I'm happy that we're all moving on together, albeit in different directions, but we are moving up.

Part of every single one of us is still like before, or at the very least, longing for what we used to be.

We still are. We can still be.

We are still 7 very different people coming together, complementing each other, being there for each other.

I stand true to this.

Guilty as charged.

At times, I do wonder if words being said or actions being done can be a true reflection of what he/she is thinking or feeling. Could it be, many a time, we're consciously or subconsciously masking some emotions within us, trying to show only the side we want the outside world or intended party to see? Do we know what we're doing? What is exactly on our minds when we go through this decision process?

I'm dumbfounded.

Definitely guilty as charged.

How can we demand another a true showcase of his/ her emotions and thoughts when we ourselves fail to deliver as such? Can we really do unto others how we would like to be treated?

No, we can't.

I don't deny there are times, times when we only realise what we're doing only after doing so. Hence, it's pretty much obvious that it's redundant to feel remorseful or repentant. Sorry is just a word by itself. It means nothing without the emotional tags that bind tightly to it if one truly means that apology.

It's tiring to guess. Exhausting in fact.

The constant reminders to ourselves to be truthful to ourselves are just literally sticking post-it notes all over the place without paying attention to it. What's the point?

The moral of the story is, it's your choice.

Regardless the situation, it's still your choice.

"I didn't have a choice!"

That is an excuse. A cover up for what you fail to admit.

Well, talk is cheap. We can say whatever we want and we won't get caught.

I do feel. I do see. I do listen. I do reminise.

But at the same time, the deafening truth prevails.

I have to turn the other way. I have to twist my words. I have to hear but not listen. I have to reminise without emotions.

As of now, the smile is the reward I give to myself.

The laughter an assurance.

The joy, a comfort.

My gorgeous new love.

My new love. Danny Harf. Cuteness redefined.

Someone pinch me please.