The Early Morn

It is yet so early one could hardly tell it will be dawn soon, looking at the sky. The darkness, the fog, the still and vacant roads - intimidating, yet alluring.

I'd forgotten how blissful it is to be awake at an hour where most in this part of the world are fast asleep.

Good morning!

The Fine Line

Well, I mean that one between the want to show genuine concern and sticking my long nose into someone else's business. I care, and therefore I want to do something about it; I want (though I am fully aware that I probably am unable) to protect one from being hurt. So, how do I know when I've crossed the line from being a caring friend to being intrusive?

I am not talking about relatively straightforward right-or-wrong choices: to continue or to quit smoking, for an example; to consume alcohol excessively or in moderation, for another. I mean matters in which no one could ever be sure what would turn out good, or otherwise. I want so much to say outright that I am extremely unsure of whether one has made the right decision; it would be easier if I knew for a fact that my opinion doesn't mean much. However, I know otherwise. My thoughts aren't, and will never be inconsequential to this person. For this, I must exercise a lot more care in what I say, and how I react.

For, how could I be sure that this isn't meant to be, just as how I have doubts on whether it is? True, history made me cynical, but still, how can I be sure? How can anyone be sure of anything? So, does that mean we are to live in fear of what we cannot predict? Are we to avoid and to forbid every single choice and course of actions that we believe might lead to the worst of our fears?

I cannot know for sure - but I know a truly happy friend when I see one. I can see the light and the life shining from the eyes, the smiles that come straight from the heart, the bliss and content that radiate from the being. Therefore, in spite of past heartbreaks, how can I confidently say the choice is a bad one when it gives one this much happiness? I cannot.

I am wary but I accept one's choice. I want badly to make certain one does not get hurt again, but definitely not at the expense of one's chance at happiness. I guess I could be like the mattress at the bouldering walls - no matter when or how many times a climber falls, it will be there to provide soft landing - constant and unwavering. Yes, that I can be.

Know that I will always be your friend, and be here for you, regardless of everything. Everything.

Lament of the Forsaken

As I lay there helplessly, darkness, silence and emptiness all around, I can't help thinking back on the days I was happy. I was once happy. I was once his heart's dearest, his constant companion. He used to want me so near him always, we're almost never seen apart. I was his pride, I had his undivided devotion and attention, I was perfect for his needs, never wanting in any aspects. I was then, truly happy.

It is strange how the happiest times always seem the shortest. The blissful days passed as if in a flash. It got more and more often that he didn't want to have me with him all the time anymore. More and more frequently I was left behind while he went about his ways. I tried not to let the hurt and disappointment get hold of me too strongly. He still needed me, didn't he? He still came to me every now and then, didn't he? I was still the only one he had, wasn't I? I was still perfect, complete and not wanting in any aspects, wasn't I?

I was - and then, I no longer was. Though through no fault of mine, an essential, irreplaceable part of me went missing, and needless to say, I would never be the same to him, ever again. Feeling acutely his waning passion for me, I knew it would be a matter of time before the inevitable came. True enough - soon, I overheard him speak of another. He spoke of how much better it'd be for him, all the characteristics which would make it superior to me, and how he was bent on owning it soon. My heart broke - I was about to be replaced. I was devastated. I feared that I would be confined to a solitary, forgotten existence, for the rest of my days. I dreaded every passing day, which brought nearer the arrival of what would be his new love. But meanwhile, I told myself, he still was mine exclusively. He would still have me, keep me and care for me.

Till this day. This day was the day he'd left me behind. Although I do not believe he'd done it intentionally, but the fact remains that I was left behind. Others came and left, and as the day drew to an end, I was the only one still here. The night would be long and hard, and I was all alone.

Morning came, and I was still alone.


Days passed, and he did not come for me. Did he not miss me? Was he not anxious about my well-being and whereabouts? Perhaps his new companion had arrived. I could not bear to think of how I might actually never see him again. Little by little, I fell into deep despair and depression. Then I met it - the one was so like myself, we might have been twins separated at birth.


It was glad to see me again. It told me not to fret, and assured me that its owner could get me back to mine. That, I do not doubt. Of his affection however, I could only hope...

Insanity

How does one tell eccentricity from insanity? Of course - if one is crazy because one purposely wants to be crazy, that's eccentricity; if one is crazy because one can't help being crazy, that's insanity.


Seeing Things That Are Not There

The Right Optic Nerve observed to the Left Optic Nerve, "You know, these eyeballs have been motionless for a long time now. The Brain's making it stare at nothingness. I'm so bored of signaling nothingness back. If this goes on, I think I will go into spasms!"

"Stop grumbling," the Left Optic Nerve replied, "As if the repetitive firing of the signal of nothingness isn't maddening enough, you have to complain about it too!"

"We should just send the signals the Brain is craving for."

"That's fraud. We can't do that!"

"Do you want to be trapped in this existence of delivering nothingness for all eternity?

The Left Optic Nerve contemplated it a while. "Do you really know what the Brain wants to 'see'?"

"You would too, if you lurked around a bit more, observed harder and gossiped a little with the other nerves."

"Alright. Let's do it!"

"One conjured visual information coming up!" and they laughed.


Hearing Things That Are Not There

"It's extremely still, do you not think?" the Right Auditory Nerve said. "I wish there are some to encode and deliver. Music will be nice."

"Depends on the kind of music, you know," the Left Auditory Nerve replied. "I don't want those loud, booming ones. They're so obnoxious they make me feel like killing myself."

"Killing yourself?"

"Yes, killing myself. Ha ha."

"Hey, I could help you with that. What do you call it? That's right, MERCY KILLING! I'll kill you! Ha ha ha..."

"Ha ha ha..."

"Oops..."

"What?" the Left Auditory Nerve was taken aback by the Right Auditory Nerve's sudden solemness.

"My last message to you, I accidentally sent to the Brain as well. Now it's thinking someone is talking to it."

"We can do that?!"

"Apparently so..."

"Cool! Let's try again!" and they laughed.


I can't decide. I'll need to have a serious talk with those naughty, misbehaving nerves.

An Excerpt

Bee Ree was showing us some applications on her new iPad.

Recently, it's been the world of Apple around us. Mee Mee got herself an iPhone, and then, Bee Ree got herself an iPad. When emails were exchanged, half of them ended with "Sent from my iPhone" or "Sent from my iPad". Not wanting to feel left out, I manually ended my replies with "Sent from my Office PC". I didn't think it was that fresh or funny then.

So, Bee Ree showed us her organizer app. She demonstrated how she creates new entries and adds to-do tasks. She created a new entry.

"So here, I type Shell Shell; under that entry it's Wedding, and the tasks - buy gift, buy new dress..."

Mee Mee was so impressed!

"Wow! Buy a new dress! I'll need it too! Can you sync that to my iPhone???"

I didn't know if Bee Ree was in earnest or in jest -

"Can, can!"

I pouted. "Too bad you can't sync it to my Office PC as well..."

Shell Shell, who was having some cake, snorted, almost choked, and had to cover her mouth to keep the half-chewed food from spurting out. For a while, she strained to contain her laughter from bursting forth full-forced; when calm, she glared at me.

"Please watch what you're saying! Do you want history to repeat itself?!"

Once upon a time, we lived together, all of us. Once, we were hanging out in the living room, and I happened to blurt out a comment so crazy that Shell Shell, who was drinking at the time, had such as hard time containing her laughter she had to RUN OUT of the house to spit the water out.

"Do you want to make me run out of this place and spit my food out?!"

"No, no. Sorry... I'll try not to do that again. Hee hee....."

"OK, OK, let's play a game on the iPad now, shall we?"


The full story:
Part 1
Part 2

Selected Tales

Someone once told me (right, probably not told me told me, but he definitely said it) that Charles Dickens is overrated. It doesn't matter - I still like him. I don't know how literature scholars "rate" authors and their works, but to me, written pieces are a lot like musical pieces - there is music I like, and music I don't like. There is writing I like, and writing I don't like.

His writing, I like. Simple.

I remember a short story I'd first read in my teens - A Child's Dream of a Star (the full text for those who will) - which moved me quite a bit. It isn't one of the selected ones for this compilation. There are over 50 stories in the volume and the one I wanted most isn't there.

I wonder - do I want it so badly because it is indeed the worthiest, or do I want it simply because it's not in mine?

Either way, I love you; I'm going to hug you to sleep tonight.

No One Like You

October

O love, turn from the changing sea and gaze,
Down these grey slopes, upon the year grown old,
A-dying 'mid the autumn-scented haze
That hangeth o'er the hollow in the wold,
Where the wind-bitten ancient elms infold
Grey church, long barn, orchard, and red-roofed stead,
Wrought in dead days for men a long while dead.

Come down, O love; may not our hands still meet,
Since still we live today, forgetting June,
Forgetting May, deeming October sweet? -
Oh, hearken! hearken! through the afternoon
The grey tower sings a strange old tinkling tune!
Sweet, sweet, and sad, the toiling year's last breath,
To satiate of life, to strive with death.

And we too - will it not be soft and kind,
That rest from life, from patience, and from pain,
That rest from bliss we know not when we find,
That rest from love which ne'er the end can gain?
- Hark! how the tune swells, that erewhile did wane!
Look up, love! - Ah! cling close, and never move!
How can I have enough of life and love?

by William Morris (1834-1896)


No One Like You

And we too - will it not be soft and kind
That rest from life, from patience and from pain
That rest from bliss, we know not when we find
How can I have enough of life and love

In your eyes are my secrets that I've never shown you
In my heart I feel I've always known you
In your arms there's a comfort that I never knew
You're what I've been waiting for, there's no one like you

Sure as the sunrise, pure as a prayer
You fashioned hope right out of thin air
Ev'ry dream I abandoned, seems it could come true
I believe in miracles, there's no one like you

Innocent as a newborn in a world so fright'ning
It's as if my world's been struck by lightning
Ev'ry dream I abandoned, seems it could come true
I believe in miracles, there's no one like you

music by Jerry Goldsmith
lyrics by David Zippel

A One-Minute Post

He sees a photo of a guy wearing a hat.

"Ooh, is that Jason Mraz?"

No, I say. Not every guy who wears a hat is Jason Mraz.

"All containers are Tupperware, all instant noodles are Maggi, all USB drives are Pendrive(s)..."

*rolls eyes*

Ode To An Insect, Crushed Beneath A Climber's Hand

Unseen, unbeknownst, you were there,
A quaint, quiet, solitary one:
Full of life, free of care,
Perhaps strolling along, humming a song;
The world was yours, upon the stone
Though to another world it belonged -
You couldn't have known
Just as it didn't know yours...

As it would be with Fate,
This unfortunately untimely moment
In which we both met
Ended as such - solemnly, sadly.


*RIP*