been ODing on really old songs. and suddenly, they make me feel a little wistful.. a little gray.. a little sad.

that i've forgotten the feeling being connected to a song. that i haven't felt certain emotions for such a long time that lyrics which used to resonate with me now just leave me a little empty. or maybe not empty.. but more of a sense of lingering bittersweetness.

Don't wake up, won't wake up, can't wake up, no, don't wake me up - Mika's "By the Time"

there's a dull ache where certain emotions once were. but yet with it comes no regret. there's a strange unexplainable pang in missing how the lyrics made me feel once, for it to now be replaced with a little more understanding. where tender joy and longing once used to be now leaves behind a comforting sadness and acceptance.

It's plain to see that, baby, you're beautiful and it's nothing wrong with you. It's me, I'm a freak - Adam Lambert "What Do You Want From Me"


perhaps this is what it means to be 30 years old. it's not about what you do or say. it's not about how you look or dress. but it's about what words now mean to you. how songs you used to have on repeat are still on repeat after years, but with very very different meanings to you now.


I could get used to this. :)

was on the bus today when I overheard a little kid from an international school telling his friend that Samsung copied Apple. and because his friend was using a Samsung, it meant that his friend was a copycat.

then he proceeded to ask his Samsung using friend why he couldn't afford an Apple.

i was probably one comment away from an assault and child abuse charge.


the Samsung using kid is a little Korean boy that I usually see on the bus. he's the cutest little thing when he talks to his older sister and goes into full-aegyo mode. Apple boy was a tinier fella who kept talking about travelling. after a while, i turned my music up to block out his boasting.

i blame the kid's parents. i'm serious. i think my parents would have hit me if they heard me talking like that. but then again, there was no chance of me doing that. i never had branded stuff unless i saved up for it. but all my money was put to buying CDs and Glory Glory Man Utd. I carried a backpack that was a freebie from a petrol station from secondary school up to my second year in JC when I finally saved up enough money to get myself a deuter.

while people were drinking Starbucks weekly, it was a quarterly treat for me. but I don't know. it never really affected me back then. I couldn't be bothered about carrying a mambo-brand bag or wearing roxy slippers. $4.90 Trail slippers from army market were good enough.

probably why people think I'm a HDB-girl even though I grew up thinking that majority of Singaporeans stayed in landed, having seen landed property for most of my life, and going to my friends' private houses. and I'm thankful for that. that I never took anything for granted.


and may I never ever take anything for granted. and also that I won't ever hear little Apple boy boasting. seriously.

finally getting back on my feet and checking out schools for classes. there's so much I want to do. I want to sweat it out while pounding the gravel or punching the sandbag. I want to complete a barista course. and right now, there's nothing more I want than to spin and slide across the dance floor once more.

at an age where my friends are settling down and having kids, I just want to run away from the usual route that people walk. there's so much to learn. so much to see. so much still for me to do. skydiving in Switzerland. be more proficient in Spanish and Korean. pick up lyrical jazz. swing around in aerial yoga. perfect the spinning technique finally. be a certified barista. kiss a stranger in a club.. ok, scratch the last one. been there, done that, never again.

but there's so much I feel I need to do. I asked a friend earlier what it meant to be a 30-yo. How is a 30-yo supposed to act? go on dates and find that one to settle down? wear more serious clothes? do an eat-pray-love thing in Bali? visit all the avant garde hipster watering holes. hunt down industrial coffee joints?

I still want to go out and shop and watch movies alone. I want to wear my T-shirts and jeans/skirts. I want to lose my way in Korea and scour the night markets in Taiwan to eat, shop, and laugh. I want to enjoy 1-for-1 drinks at Wine Bar or have pancakes with beer at Overeasy. ok, I would totally hunt down coffee joints anywhere and everywhere. I mean, come on, it's coffee.

and at the end of the day, I want to dance. to remember what it means to lose all inhibitions and express myself through music and movement.

been listening to Gaga again, or at least her old songs. not a fan of her newer stuff but her older songs from Born This Way and earlier have always had an almost permanent place in my hearts. I love her beats and the occasional lyrics that make me pause to smile. stupid lines like "I live to be model thin" or "I'm gonna lace up my boots, throw on some leather and cruise down the the street that I love, in my fishnet gloves, I'm a sinner."

and she makes me want to dance all over again.

)


"some girls won't dance to the beat of the track." this one happens to be one of them. please, foot, please heal faster. please.

While I do not miss the giddy restless moments from being drunk, I miss the amazing freedom from the demons that haunt me during my sober moments.

Something's got to give.

Reminded by a friend that it will forever be futile. Hopefully a puppy will at least fit in my fat trex arms.

Been listening to my older CDs lately when I hit my Japanese songs. a familiar soothing voice started to take over my playlist and I remembered why I loved all the vocal training that I used to go through as a kid. all the voice projection and enunciation and how my choir teacher used to tell me that the voice is an incredible instrument for me to manipulate.. where I could choose to sing the way I spoke, or be operatically vocal... or even lend a Southern drawl to it.. all depending on the songs that we were singing.

simply because we were practising for a musical which was different from our usual performances.

when I was listening to my favorite Japanese male vocal, her words came back to me. Ken Hirai speaks so differently from the way he sings and it's simply beautiful.



strangely (or maybe not strangely) enough, I don't miss vocal training. I remember those days fondly but I'll never put myself through all that again.

dance has that same effect. different styles of dance command different expressions of engaging the audience. waltz... hip hop... latin... been there, done it.. and they are all different. how i'm reminded  to smile, seduce, or smirk depending on the style.

and I miss dance. oh goodness, I miss dance so much.

let's hope the check-up on 5 March will be the final one and I can return to the studio or gym to go back and wage war on the dance floor and sandbag again. *fingers crossed*

I really really love tumblr. I really do.

somebardy please give Himchan a role. that boy's brilliant.

After yet another visit to the granny's at the hospital, the mother and I were heading home as usual.

We were talking and laughing about random things like the family in the car when she suddenly said, "You have a very high threshold for pain."

It was just as random as the other things we were talking about but I didn't know how to continue. She continued on about how I never like to tell people when I am hurting or in pain. that I keep it all to myself. I insisted that I would tell them if I were in pain and I knew they could help it. if not, it didn't make sense to mention that I'm in pain anyway.

then she went to to say that even if people weren't in the position to take away the pain, I should tell them that I'm hurting.

"Because that way, we can at least be there with you."

at that point, I kinda figured she was talking about more than just physical pain. there was just a certain tone in her voice that make me look out of the window and not look at her for a brief second. it was like memories of a childhood that I never bothered to suppress but also never bothered sharing with any of my family. I cleared my throat.

"That's not true. I used to roll around on the sofa and complain about period pains."

"Do they still hurt as much?"

"Not anymore. Things do get better with time."

This time, my mother slipped into silence. We sat there for a few seconds not saying anything until I started laughing about my sisters and the funny things that happened in the last week between us. It was almost as though we never had the earlier conversation.

honestly, I don't really need to tell anyone if they can't help me. that's just the way it's been. I do rant about minor superficial stuff but there are things that are better left unspoken and resolved by myself. still, I guess knowing that my mom is somehow aware of all this happening makes me a little glad. I can only pray that she'll also be glad that her little girl has grown up to be a lot stronger.

the life i wish I had

sigh. back to work...

been at the hospital every day for 8 days already.

it's deja vu all over again. 1997 all over again.

i'm tired but I'll keep pushing on. no more regrets. I won't allow for it.

finally started reading Shingeki no Kyojin.

OMG. WHY DID I ONLY START NOW.

NO.

WHY DID I START READING NOW?

I'm lost to the world now. Damnit. I'm dead to the world.