Sunday, October 22, 2006

Dreams are strange things.

Sometimes we remember them. Sometimes we don't. And sometimes we think we remember something that seemed like a dream.

I remembered something yesterday which seemed familiar, and eventually, I figured it had to be a dream I had quite recently.

I only vaguely remember the earlier part of the dream; something about someone giving me the most pretty white dress I've ever seen-- and it's only the later part which becomes more vivid. Someone else tells me, "Oh, but you need shoes to go with that."

And she hands me two large paper bags, each with a pair of shoes in them.

White paper bags with white, high-heeled sandals with gold trim in them. And all the white is just so blinding that I can hardly see the shoes.

"There, now you're all ready."

To go where? And I'm reminded oddly of Cinderella.

Nicholas told some of the archery people a few weeks ago about a dream that he claims he had. He said he dreamt that one day he saw someone and I holding hands.

And two nights later, I had a dream about us surprising him by letting him see us do just that.

There's a woman in a black dress, standing before a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. She looks out over the dark of an urban cityscape, all dots of flickering lights from this far up and not a sign of human life anywhere--
Watching the reflection of her own eyes--
Wondering why they're so dispassionate, detached.
She knows she's only living on borrowed time and light:
Waiting for just the right moment, always waiting for sometime, for someone, waiting for forever.
Just as she's waiting for someone to walk through that door.
And as if on cue, he's there.
A strange man with no face.
He's there to hug her fears away, a comfortably-firm embrace with warm hands that slide across her waist and her stomach, whispering over the fabric of the dress she's wearing; lay a kiss to the join where neck meets shoulder--
And it burns because she knows it will bruise later.
And he speaks soothing words, of watching sunrises from the sheltered safety of a bedroom's windowpane, of tomorrow, and ever after.
Her eyes don't even flicker, but her heart leaps-- it believes anything.
"Come with me."
And she can't tell if he's asking, pleading or demanding.
She turns as he takes her hand--
Wonders if she should just take what he's offering, even if it might not last--
Wonders if she should just learn to let go.
And she lets her gloves slip off in his grasp as he walks out the door.

Dreams. Maybe all we need is to read between the lines.

Saturday, October 21, 2006

One day... I'd like to see a psychiatrist.

I'd like to know what they might say about me. I'd like to know if there's anything wrong with me.

We've always been told not to take things for granted. We've always been told that if someone takes things for granted, it says something about who they are, and the way that their lives have been.

I know that I don't matter to many people who know me. I know that it wouldn't make a difference if they never saw me again. I know I'm not important. I know that I can't expect anything from even the people that I value the most because I may not mean anything to them. I know that everyone else in the world can choose to disappoint me and leave me if they wish and there's really nothing I can do.

These are the things that I take for granted.

I know that I cannot tell what people are thinking. I know that everyone around me may just be lying even as they smile and laugh (with me? at me?). I know that I should never have expectations-- they only create room for disappointment, but I have them anyway, so I know that I set myself up for whatever follows. I know that everyone I know could only be making use of me. But things mean more to those who have less, so as long as they are willing to tolerate me-- for however long it may be-- I'll accept them as they are anyway.

These are the things that I take for granted.

I know it may not mean anything when someone is nice to me. I know that it most likely means nothing. I know they are most likely only humouring me. I know I am insignificant.

But I still hope I matter, and hope is a little evil in that way. Because I know that I set myself up for the disappointment that I know will come.

These are the things that I take for granted.

Friday, October 20, 2006

I was studying in the clubroom on Tuesday night, till about 2 am, when I left to go back to hall.

While I was walking back, I realised that while I'd been holed up in the clubroom, some people had gone around sticking up posters for the StompAIDS campaign.

They were *everywhere*. Really. On *every* pillar along the AS6 and AS1 corridors; you couldn't walk five steps without seeing one.

And here's the funny thing.

NUSSU Bizcomm has a bash on the 27th of October, and in the tradition of NUS bashes, its theme has some sexual innuendo to it, although perhaps not so subtly veiled: bright posters of luscious, shiny, lipsticked lips and telephone keypads proudly declare the name of the bash-- RingAFling.

If that doesn't imply one-night stands, I don't know what does.

And then you have this flood of AIDS awareness posters with their half-naked, semi-faceless models veiled in dark purple lighting, declaring that casual sex kills.

Oh, the irony.

And look at what I snapped today with my camera phone, along the AS1 corridor.

The two posters side by side, on adjacent sides of a pillar.

This is gonna crack me up for the next week or so. LOL. :D

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Culture shock.

I guess it must be that way for some exchange students.

It probably really hit one such student full force during one of my tutorials on this week, during which we argued upon the finer points of meritocracy and being able to exercise one's rights and have a voice to say what you want, when you want.

So we don't have as much freedom of speech as you do. So you think meritocracy is a sham. (Well, we do too really; it's like our national inside joke.) So you think it's wrong that we're not allowed to protest. (Yeah, we laugh about applying for a license too.)

But chew on this for a minute.

Do you think a country as small as Singapore can tolerate even the slightest level of social unrest without falling into utter chaos? Your country has 50 states. Ours can be traversed within an hour.

Think about the state of affairs in your country and the way things are in ours. Yeah, so we're not allowed to burn our national flag or spit in the streets, but we don't worry about being shot just by taking a walk or by coming to school.

And if everyone cared so much about their own individual rights and so on, what would happen to social stability and unity?

Culture makes a difference. Scale makes a difference. Don't think that what works in your world necessarily works in ours. This must be the first real-life example of ethnocentrism that I've ever come across.

So you can complain about our censorship laws all you like (and really, so do we), but in the end, most of us are happy to live in a country that isn't hated by half the globe and is one of the safest and cleanest in the world. If you ask me, our freedom of speech is a relatively small price to pay for the kind of peace that's difficult to find almost anywhere in these times.

Most of us are happy enough. And sometimes, happy enough is sufficient; we can't all be perfect. So you should realise that neither are you.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Pin my paper heart to the coattails of your happiest dreams.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

There's a little corner in Eusoff Hall.

It's a sad kind of corner.

In the last few weeks that I've seen that corner, there's always someone there, on the phone, looking lost, sounding sad, and unsure of why the world's coming down around their ears.

Sometimes it's someone new. Sometimes it's someone I've seen before.

Sometimes they're crying and the sniffling is loud enough to hear.

Sometimes in the words that they're half-whispering and half-screaming, it sounds like the only thing they're saying or asking is "why?"

It's a sad kind of corner.

But at least they still have someone to talk to.

I wonder sometimes if people give it any thought.

If you broke down piece by piece, do you know if there'd be anyone who'd hear those pieces shattering?

You won't cry.
They won't scream.
And no one will remember.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Social Inequalities lecture.

Talking about recession in Singapore, Asian Economic Crisis, bird flu, SARS

Justin and I agree that the world is ending.

It should probably just hurry up and end already so we don't need to take exams. XD