On writing and feeling

*furrow brows*

I don't remember the last time I wrote a genuinely contemplative entry, the quiet kind, one that makes you feel like you're sitting knee to knee, in deep conversation with a person or with people who nod in understanding and know how much it matters to you, and share their own perspectives, the kind that, when you flip back to browse through with your diarist's eye, will have your eyes light up in recognition at the flood of memories of not only an event, but the feelings that come along with it. The kind that has your smile tugging at your lips at something amusing, a volley of laughter at a delightful narration, or a tear evoked by genuine emotion, blinked back into the warmth of your heart, or an eyebrow raised wryly surveying the impossibilities of your own words or another's, something natural and full of life by itself.

Where have you gone, these feeling entries of mine? Wilt thou come forth again, disregarding the growing pairs of eyes upon you, or will you be carefully dressed in words that say little, and feel even less? And will the memories fail to be significant because they are not lovingly recorded, full and beautiful in their sincerity while simple in language? Will you stumble out awkwardly, like the writer who strings you together, worrying about who you may offend, or how much you will be undervalued, whether you will be like everyone else-- the glizty photos, the necessary tinge of humour, the diplomatically correct speeches, the laughter without the tears, the smile without the wistfulness, the hope without the fears? The perfunctory updates: I exist because I tell you so, the quick flashes of moments that linger not, come, touch and go, breathless, mundane, and careless, without heart?

Are you afraid to write the way you did because you fear you have lost the easy, frank, direct style, because everyone else is writing, because you think these lingering entries become a wannabe cheemo kinda thing? Because types and categories have existed in these devices called blogs? Because you will only show a public self in a public arena?

Because you have begun to recognise every little word and image as so obviously a construct that you are afraid of having the fullness of an experience dwindle into nothing but a meaningless construction?

Do things lose their significance when they become common? Lose their class when they become popular, hence "average", "typical", "oh, like that lor, nothing much"?

Where are you headed, little writer, you fleeting thoughts so noisy and light? Where is your echo of the wave of emotions that wash upon your consciousness, that swish into visibility within your mind's eye? Have they all retreated into the ocean of subconscious, awkward in their self-consciousness at the sudden exposure, or have they been replaced by the pictures that seem to say more, the photos that gleam happy, bright and attention-catching?

Perhaps, little writer, your disappointments, your fears, your aches oughtn't be so hurriedly shoved aside in pretended non-existance. To be real you need to be whole, and to be whole you need to feel all, be all, acknowledge in grateful understanding everything, everything...

*casts a desperate glance at audience* But... too many......

And not write in codes that befuddle everyone and frustrate yourself. As though you never felt sadness, or anger, never wept tears or drew your blankets up to your chin, trembling in quiet nights and still mornings when no one stirs yet, when the enormity of everything hits you so acutely. Life and people and unknowns and big black looming uncertainties that reach out to pull you out of your comfort zone.

.......

Sigh.

*switches back to brisk conversational tone*

No, no usual square-shoulders-and-toss-head-and-everything-will-be-all-right entry-closing thing, and not even making optimistic promises this time because what do I say? I will write better? I will abandon trashy stuff? Certainly not quite possible, not when it proves to be cathartic sometimes, the writing process, though not always fondly re-read because it tells me nothing more about my life other than the fact that I mapled and gunbounded during the hols, made promises to read many books but did barely a few, or was rushing deadlines for essays and cannot finish my text Middlemarch... The bla-bla stuff will stay, but I will attempt more... meaningful entries, in a sense, to recall why I started writing my online diary early in Sec 2, those entries that matter, those moments a distinct glimpse of a moment in the 525,600 minutes in a year, certain quiet reminders of where I come from, where I'm headed, stuff that can be shared and understood.

Perhaps not by so many. I hate it that I feel uneasy with people, lots of people, and it nags at me so. *sigh* We'll see how it goes.

Carolling

Update: timing changes...

Carolling with Reso! =) I'm performing on

-18th Dec, Sunday, Harbourfront, 3.30pm 3.00pm
-19th Dec, Monday, Junction 8, 8pm
-23rd Dec, Friday, Harbourfront, 4.30pm 5.00pm

It'll be wherever the stage is usually located in shopping malls... ground floor, somewhere central...

Drop by if you can k?

Chlamp 2005

I wanted to write a full Reso Chlamp photo-entry, but then I saw Celena's post, which just about covered everything beautifully... I've gotta hand it to her, she's a lot more hardworking with gathering and posting pictures than I am *grins*

Just one more photo here as a memento, though...


Amanda calls this a sanctuary, Shuying and Cel describes this as a horde of illegal immigrants, and 3za says it looks like a prostitute's den (disclaimer for 3za: joking only, hor...) but really, this is quite simply a bunch of the nicest girls you can ever find, anywhere. Right? *grins*

And it's true... Not only for the girls, lar, we have very likeable guys as well, only that we never managed to get an all-guy or a full-Reso chlamp photo... Never have I seen a bunch of crazier, louder, shriekier, more excitable lot than Resonators in a chalet, erm... playing heart attack. *laughs* Or an entire bunch of people taking pride in the most impossible things, like cheering madly for a wider waist or a bigger nostril, courtesy of a very noisy in-our-hearts-we-win purple team. (But black team randomly won these two categories! Teeheeheehee) All in all it's been a delightfully enjoyable, madly fun three days in chlamp, with food and songs and lovable people.

Next year I still want =)

M'sia trip pics

I have truckloads of overdue photos! Have been quite busy lately, but I suppose it's time I post them up before they're so outdated that they becomes irrelevant.
So here goes! Pictures from my trip to Malaysia:


The five star bus that we took there... solid double deck with a karaoke lounge on the first level!


It's very very comfy.. we've even got a personal tv and headphones set to ourselves, with 8 different channels to choose from!

Very scenic picture taken on the way...



Freaking lot of palm trees! You can see why palm tree products are Malaysia's main exports... I remember watching the channel 8 9pm show the other day, when this guy Martin got quite lost in a forest of palm trees while searching for his girlfriend Lulu's home, and was telling my brother the most unhelpful directions he could give in the the scenario: "Hello? Lulu! I'm lost! I'm currently in between two palm trees, can you come and fetch me?"


More forested land on our uphill journey towards Genting... It's a 7-frigging-hours journey! My 151 journey is peanuts compared to this. (And when I say peanuts, I don't quite mean it in the NKF way)


Relieved to be back in the hotel...


View from the hotel room window... It's terribly foggy!


It's windy as well. Freezing cold!


We went to the theme park...

where I accompanied my brother on kid-rides...


In the more romantic sense the misty Genting is like a city in the clouds, located way up in the highlands, with wind that rushes past in gusts and fog that wraps you up in a chilling embrace. But Genting indoors isn't that much different from the usual town, with its hotels and restaurants and shopping malls and arcades. The main draw is of course its casinos, which I obviously cannot describe in detail, being one year short of being an adult. I'm not complaining, though. I'd rather be a kid in a theme park than an adult in a casino.


We left Genting in a cable car. Happy happy. No more long twists and turns round and round the mountainside, and you get a paranomic view of the lovely lush forest and the mountain range.

We arrive at Colmar Tropicale in the late afternoon...It's a lovely French village located midway up the mountain, quiet, quaint, picturesque. (Yah, I know, I shouldn't resort to these tourist-y vocabulary, but I don't mean it in a derogatory manner in any way. I love the peaceful country feel of Colmar Tropicale more than I did the city-Genting.)




Upon walking across the drawbridge-like wooden pathway into the stone-paved street, you almost expect someone to go, "Welcome to Diagon Alley!" Pretty, isn't it?


The inside of the reception area, looking out into the 'street', with its pale yellow curtains and 16th-century suits of armour.


We've also got a four-poster bed, Harry-Potter style!

Colmar Tropicale boasts lovely surrounding attractions as well. There is of course the breath-taking scenery right outside your window:


a rabbit park,


where I made friends with this sweet little fella..


a Japanese garden,


and the Botanical gardens.

I love being surrounded with lush greenery and pretty pretty flowers! It's so soothing and so alive at the same time...

So that's it for my Genting-Colmar trip this December... there is a lot more to say, of course, and I'm being as brief as possible in letting the pictures do the talking, but ultimately visual images can capture beauty more so than words can, without retaining biasedness in the form of one's emotions that might otherwise colour the picture differently. It was a lovely trip, but all the same I'm glad to be home, for even in the midst of refreshing newness I seek comfort in familiarity. Perhaps 11 years of not travelling have taken some of the adventure out of me, or perhaps the reason of the trip as a necessary relaxation and a pulling away from the strains of worklife may have ignited some tension and worry, because sometimes it frustrates me that I cannot help my parents lighten up, but make things worse and spark tempers off in a series of unfortunate accidents... perhaps a lot of things, stuff that cannot trivialised into pretty words... But anyhow, all's well that ends well... I think. =)

So, till the next blog entry, ciaoz~

I'm so glad to be back in Singapore! *flings arms out to embrace the world* I love home home home! The trip to Genting and Colmar Tropicale was quite lovely, minus a lotta... *frowns* tensions, or whatever you might want to call it, stuff that I would much rather chuck aside out of acute consciousness, so I'll gladly refrain from elaborating.

Tomorrow (today, technically) marks the first day of Reso Chlamp [termed coined by dear 'mum' and president Cheryl] and I realised, much to my horror, that I have not revised my Christmas songs. Eeks! I shall hum my way to Pasir Ris tomorrow. My backpack looks intimidatingly bulky, but I always like to bring slightly more than necessary, if only to reassure myself. Gonna sing sing sing again! *beams*

Shall blog again after the 8th. And must convince myself not to spend too much time on maple. *sigh* You're such a horrific girl, Charm.

More later =)