Friday, April 30, 2004
Heh heh, Naz has seen this blog today. And yeah, she's only the 2nd person to know this blog apart from Joel. Are you reading this Naz? Ssssshhhhh, don't tell ;p
Argh, the cold war at home is still going on. Gah, i can't care anymore. Being petty gets no one nowhere, especially where i am concerned.
Argh, the cold war at home is still going on. Gah, i can't care anymore. Being petty gets no one nowhere, especially where i am concerned.
Monday, April 26, 2004
I can't believe it. Things are getting from bad to worse. I've had 2 consecutive bad weeks, no thanks to the 3 stooges named Ben, Joel, and Teresa. Having to smile at people you absolutely detest for their egocentric view on life is no mean feat. To top it all off, i blew up at my family, and the situation right now isn't looking too good.
Good work, Kai. You ruined it all for yourself.
Jeez. Nobody cares about what i think. Nobody cares about what i have done well, and instead harp on what i have not managed. Even my family, they're all the same. Who cares a rat-fuck about what i think?
I need something to cool me down. Maybe some beer.
Good work, Kai. You ruined it all for yourself.
Jeez. Nobody cares about what i think. Nobody cares about what i have done well, and instead harp on what i have not managed. Even my family, they're all the same. Who cares a rat-fuck about what i think?
I need something to cool me down. Maybe some beer.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Seven Days Of The Prodigal Son
I got off the plane at 1 AM,
it was dark. Jet-lagged and needing a bath,
I stepped outside for a taxi,, and I am struck
by the humidity I used to know.
My kin don't know I am back. Just as well,
all theey would do is to drag me across a family reunion
like a prize trophy, and ask the questions
I don't want to answer.
On the trip to the hotel, the taxi driver regales me
in heartland language, how hard it is to make a living nowadays,
while I lie back, grunting out my politeness, while ruminating
on my mission, to rediscover the place where i lived out a quarter of my days.
Day 1. I was all dressed up
with nowhere to go. So I stepped aboard the MRT,
the buses, and went all around the homeland
I left behind so many years ago.
Everything and yet nothing has changed. Seems to me,
new buildings are still popping up like mushrooms while
the landmarks of my past, they have all disappeared in the
cycle of life and death.
The cars have multiplied in numbers, and so have
the empty, blank stares on both sides and across me,
victims of the rat race, the stress of making money, the
narrow-minded definition of success, I left to avoid facing.
Day 2. The brochures bade me visit
the attractions of home. Up to now not really knowing
the reasons for my return, I took up my trusty camera
and so indeed I did.
I went everyone the brochures led me. Orchard Road,
Suntec City and the Zoo, everywhere held pockets
of memories within a sea of change, yet nowhere could I find
The answers I am seeking.
Back at the hotel, I opened my treasure chest
of forgotten memories, and a face from my past popped out,
and in its wake, a slew of treasured moments, like
Pandora's box, reminding me of the days I knew you.
Day 3. The spirit that is you
is still haunting me. Restless and in need of answers,
I return to the site of our halcyon days, the school
that shaped my youth.
I came upon a wellspring of recollections. Among the young faces,
wearing the identity I once wore long ago, an old face
picked me out from within his own store of memories, and
sat me down for conversation.
We connected from old memories, my amnesia cured greatly,
by the release of my latent past, throught the therapy of sharing,
but still I am troubled, for I am still missing, the
essence of what I seek, and my old friend gave me the key.
Day 4. I was at the housing estate
where I was told you were. Unable to go up fr some reason,
I hung around the void decks, observing the heartland
until I saw you once more.
Time has been cruel to you. A baby in one arm,
and lugging the day's groceries with a toddler in tow, you were
haggard and pale, with the same blank-eyed stare I saw so often, no longer
the bright-spirited girl I loved.
I was struck dumb, your photo numb in my hand with grief,
wanted so much to relive those days with you, but could I bear to see you in that state,
with your life in despair? I went away silently, you never knew
I was there, and perhaps it was better that way.
Day 5. I spent the whole day
with my army budies. We have indeed changed much,
some were successful businessmen, while others
had become family men.
We relived those cavalier days over beer. The army stories,
the various exploits since we parted ways, the discussion
over family and career, the concern for me that I seem to be
amongst them, an underachiever.
I smiled off their godd-natured jabs, but inside I didn't care,
why should I, when I've found the answers I wanted,
and ended up replacing my emptiness with anguish? We parted ways
with promises to reunite, I stayed to drown out my tears.
Day 6. I'm about to return to
where I came from. Yet I have no will for sightseeing,
so I spend half the day, lounging in the hotel bed
wallowing in everything I lost.
I went to Geyland to partake of the feast i missed. Roti prata,
chicken rice, curry fish head, indulging in the one thing
I remembered most fondly, the love of food I inherited
from my life here.
Another old face I see, behaving most promiscuously,
heading into a hotel with a man, and I despair,
is this all that remains of all I hold dear? I went back
to the hotel, and slept away my hangover.
Day 7. Today's the day I'm
leaving behind what I've known. I am packed and reay,
almost eager to leave this place, why my dearest memories
have been irreversible corrupted.
I spent the whole day writing this for you. By the time you get this, I'll be already gone from here,
crossing an ocean, back to the refuge where I hid
in exile from my roots.
Would you call me back? I am happy where I am,
but still I wish to relive our happiest days,
catch up on each other, become the best friends
we promised to remain, when you left me.
Please contact me at.........
I got off the plane at 1 AM,
it was dark. Jet-lagged and needing a bath,
I stepped outside for a taxi,, and I am struck
by the humidity I used to know.
My kin don't know I am back. Just as well,
all theey would do is to drag me across a family reunion
like a prize trophy, and ask the questions
I don't want to answer.
On the trip to the hotel, the taxi driver regales me
in heartland language, how hard it is to make a living nowadays,
while I lie back, grunting out my politeness, while ruminating
on my mission, to rediscover the place where i lived out a quarter of my days.
Day 1. I was all dressed up
with nowhere to go. So I stepped aboard the MRT,
the buses, and went all around the homeland
I left behind so many years ago.
Everything and yet nothing has changed. Seems to me,
new buildings are still popping up like mushrooms while
the landmarks of my past, they have all disappeared in the
cycle of life and death.
The cars have multiplied in numbers, and so have
the empty, blank stares on both sides and across me,
victims of the rat race, the stress of making money, the
narrow-minded definition of success, I left to avoid facing.
Day 2. The brochures bade me visit
the attractions of home. Up to now not really knowing
the reasons for my return, I took up my trusty camera
and so indeed I did.
I went everyone the brochures led me. Orchard Road,
Suntec City and the Zoo, everywhere held pockets
of memories within a sea of change, yet nowhere could I find
The answers I am seeking.
Back at the hotel, I opened my treasure chest
of forgotten memories, and a face from my past popped out,
and in its wake, a slew of treasured moments, like
Pandora's box, reminding me of the days I knew you.
Day 3. The spirit that is you
is still haunting me. Restless and in need of answers,
I return to the site of our halcyon days, the school
that shaped my youth.
I came upon a wellspring of recollections. Among the young faces,
wearing the identity I once wore long ago, an old face
picked me out from within his own store of memories, and
sat me down for conversation.
We connected from old memories, my amnesia cured greatly,
by the release of my latent past, throught the therapy of sharing,
but still I am troubled, for I am still missing, the
essence of what I seek, and my old friend gave me the key.
Day 4. I was at the housing estate
where I was told you were. Unable to go up fr some reason,
I hung around the void decks, observing the heartland
until I saw you once more.
Time has been cruel to you. A baby in one arm,
and lugging the day's groceries with a toddler in tow, you were
haggard and pale, with the same blank-eyed stare I saw so often, no longer
the bright-spirited girl I loved.
I was struck dumb, your photo numb in my hand with grief,
wanted so much to relive those days with you, but could I bear to see you in that state,
with your life in despair? I went away silently, you never knew
I was there, and perhaps it was better that way.
Day 5. I spent the whole day
with my army budies. We have indeed changed much,
some were successful businessmen, while others
had become family men.
We relived those cavalier days over beer. The army stories,
the various exploits since we parted ways, the discussion
over family and career, the concern for me that I seem to be
amongst them, an underachiever.
I smiled off their godd-natured jabs, but inside I didn't care,
why should I, when I've found the answers I wanted,
and ended up replacing my emptiness with anguish? We parted ways
with promises to reunite, I stayed to drown out my tears.
Day 6. I'm about to return to
where I came from. Yet I have no will for sightseeing,
so I spend half the day, lounging in the hotel bed
wallowing in everything I lost.
I went to Geyland to partake of the feast i missed. Roti prata,
chicken rice, curry fish head, indulging in the one thing
I remembered most fondly, the love of food I inherited
from my life here.
Another old face I see, behaving most promiscuously,
heading into a hotel with a man, and I despair,
is this all that remains of all I hold dear? I went back
to the hotel, and slept away my hangover.
Day 7. Today's the day I'm
leaving behind what I've known. I am packed and reay,
almost eager to leave this place, why my dearest memories
have been irreversible corrupted.
I spent the whole day writing this for you. By the time you get this, I'll be already gone from here,
crossing an ocean, back to the refuge where I hid
in exile from my roots.
Would you call me back? I am happy where I am,
but still I wish to relive our happiest days,
catch up on each other, become the best friends
we promised to remain, when you left me.
Please contact me at.........
Monday, April 12, 2004
I've had enough.
Joel, Ben, Teresa. I'm having nightmares because of them. I'm imagining their blood on my hands becasue of what they're doing to me, day in, day out. How much more do they think i can take and still keep a happy face?
They had better watch out tomorrow. I'll have to show them, once again, that i'm not a stable person, therefore it's not a good idea to push me too far.
Tomorrow.
Joel, Ben, Teresa. I'm having nightmares because of them. I'm imagining their blood on my hands becasue of what they're doing to me, day in, day out. How much more do they think i can take and still keep a happy face?
They had better watch out tomorrow. I'll have to show them, once again, that i'm not a stable person, therefore it's not a good idea to push me too far.
Tomorrow.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Brrr.......long holiday, and i barely got anything done.
I just don't wanna say anymore. What's there to say?
I just don't wanna say anymore. What's there to say?
Thursday, April 08, 2004
C6 for GP. 3 straight Ds for the 'A' subjects. That's really awful. I'm getting razzed about it (and yeah, like i don't deserve it already), i'm getting depressed because of it, when i know i should be actually breathing a sigh of relief because at least i didn't actually fail anything, unlike a few i know.......
Brrr. I'm going on and on again.
I would have preferred to have entered PJC with a score of 20, instead of 14. Surprised? Not so surprising if you consider that i've done it before and come out on the winning side. Yeah. I wasn't even supposed to enter BPGHS, i had too bad a score for that. I still went in anyway, and look what happened, i beat so many others at the 'O' levels. I do best when i'm under pressure as the underdog. Being in the middle is not going to help me.
Enough of that.
Camile is out. Oh well, she didn't belong in American Idol anymore anyway.
Brrr. I'm going on and on again.
I would have preferred to have entered PJC with a score of 20, instead of 14. Surprised? Not so surprising if you consider that i've done it before and come out on the winning side. Yeah. I wasn't even supposed to enter BPGHS, i had too bad a score for that. I still went in anyway, and look what happened, i beat so many others at the 'O' levels. I do best when i'm under pressure as the underdog. Being in the middle is not going to help me.
Enough of that.
Camile is out. Oh well, she didn't belong in American Idol anymore anyway.
Monday, April 05, 2004
Deviant Angel
(dedicated to "Zoe", a 14-year-old interviewed in The Sunday Times 04/04/04)
Dark, the seedy room
of a Hotel 81, contaminated
with post-coital odours, while a girl
lies crying besides a snoring man.
Tender arms crisscrossed
with scars and track marks,
each one telling a sad story
of abuse, despair, neglect.
She neverknew any father.
Mother is always beating her,
her boyfriend hurt her real bad,
too horrible for words.
Dropped out of school at
age 12, why stay on anyway?
It's no use, nothing can drag her
out of this hellhole.
Coke, grass, ice, beer, glue.
The keys to another unreality.
They have it all, so that
it would not hurt anymore.
And the vulgar arms of strange
men, night after endless night,
each one a poor substitute
for the love that is absent.
Yet...... hope endures.
Maybe there would be someone
who truly loves her, to lead her,
a deviant angel, out of the darkness.
But dream as dream does,
for now, all she can do
is to run, as far as she can,
away from everything, anything.
(dedicated to "Zoe", a 14-year-old interviewed in The Sunday Times 04/04/04)
Dark, the seedy room
of a Hotel 81, contaminated
with post-coital odours, while a girl
lies crying besides a snoring man.
Tender arms crisscrossed
with scars and track marks,
each one telling a sad story
of abuse, despair, neglect.
She neverknew any father.
Mother is always beating her,
her boyfriend hurt her real bad,
too horrible for words.
Dropped out of school at
age 12, why stay on anyway?
It's no use, nothing can drag her
out of this hellhole.
Coke, grass, ice, beer, glue.
The keys to another unreality.
They have it all, so that
it would not hurt anymore.
And the vulgar arms of strange
men, night after endless night,
each one a poor substitute
for the love that is absent.
Yet...... hope endures.
Maybe there would be someone
who truly loves her, to lead her,
a deviant angel, out of the darkness.
But dream as dream does,
for now, all she can do
is to run, as far as she can,
away from everything, anything.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
Dear Diary
(taken from the diary of a kid who committed suicide 3 days ago)
Dear diary,
today was the first day of school,
and nobody saw me, heard me,
it's like I wasn't there.
Mummy said it would be different,
she lied. It was the same thing
all over again, nobody cared
that I was there.
Dear diary,
it's been 3 months, and
everything has totally changed
for the worse.
Everyone has grouped themselves
in their cliques, and they've locked me out,
leaving me isolated, left me
drifting in limbo.
Dear diary,
they mocked me today, once
again. They said that my life story
is but a joke.
I do not understand,
why must they do this
to me, what have I ever
done to them?
Dear diary,
Daddy punished me for my results
today. He said that I was a disgrace
to the family.
Mummy was crying, she was
wailing what did she do to deserve
me. Diary, I've treid my best,
why don't they care?
Dear diary,
Teacher made Mummy and Daddy
send me for counselling, said that i'll
amount to nothing at this rate.
They are insulting me again,
said I'm good for nothing
at all. Diary, tell me, why does
nobody love me?
Dear diary,
I'm studying as hard as I
know how, I swear I won't let
Mummy or Daddy down.
Everyone's still calling me
a good-for-nothing, but I'll
show them, I can be better, I
can do it.
Dear diary,
I've failed my aim, Daddy's
angry again, they are laughing at me
again, once more.
I can't take it anymore, I
did my best, why can't they
see that, why don't they
care about me?
Dear diary
I've lost all hope, I'll go
to school today, but I'm not coming
home, won't see anyone anymore.
Diary, do me a favour,
ask Mummy and Daddy, ask
Teacher, ask all of them
just one question.
Why?
(taken from the diary of a kid who committed suicide 3 days ago)
Dear diary,
today was the first day of school,
and nobody saw me, heard me,
it's like I wasn't there.
Mummy said it would be different,
she lied. It was the same thing
all over again, nobody cared
that I was there.
Dear diary,
it's been 3 months, and
everything has totally changed
for the worse.
Everyone has grouped themselves
in their cliques, and they've locked me out,
leaving me isolated, left me
drifting in limbo.
Dear diary,
they mocked me today, once
again. They said that my life story
is but a joke.
I do not understand,
why must they do this
to me, what have I ever
done to them?
Dear diary,
Daddy punished me for my results
today. He said that I was a disgrace
to the family.
Mummy was crying, she was
wailing what did she do to deserve
me. Diary, I've treid my best,
why don't they care?
Dear diary,
Teacher made Mummy and Daddy
send me for counselling, said that i'll
amount to nothing at this rate.
They are insulting me again,
said I'm good for nothing
at all. Diary, tell me, why does
nobody love me?
Dear diary,
I'm studying as hard as I
know how, I swear I won't let
Mummy or Daddy down.
Everyone's still calling me
a good-for-nothing, but I'll
show them, I can be better, I
can do it.
Dear diary,
I've failed my aim, Daddy's
angry again, they are laughing at me
again, once more.
I can't take it anymore, I
did my best, why can't they
see that, why don't they
care about me?
Dear diary
I've lost all hope, I'll go
to school today, but I'm not coming
home, won't see anyone anymore.
Diary, do me a favour,
ask Mummy and Daddy, ask
Teacher, ask all of them
just one question.
Why?
Thursday, April 01, 2004
GP: 55%. Yikes. And it's the comprehension part again.
Sigh. I'll better work on it.
Sigh. I'll better work on it.
