When the curtains are drawn

When I was in primary school, some ten years ago, I joined the school's choir as part of my compulsory extra-curricular activity. I don't have much memories from that part of my past, but I recall we would sing the same thing over and over again until our conductor was satisfied. Then one day, we were told that we had to perform a song in front of the school for national day. So for the next few practices, we did what we do best - sing the same thing again and again. Except we didn't sing our silly practise songs. The song we sang was written for the stage.

On the eve of national day in the year two thousand, our long awaited day arrived. We were beyond excited as we stood behind the drawn curtains, waiting for our introduction from the MC. It's just like practice. I told myself. Just do it! At that point, I heard the cue for the curtains to be drawn. We were suddenly faced with so many faces! I thought I would throw up there and then. The conductor got our attention in time. And at the fourth stroke of her baton, we sang.

There was no accompaniment, just our voices in the otherwise quiet assembly hall. It was then I understood why we had to spend many afternoons practising this. So accustomed to the song were we that we managed to gracefully leap over many dangerous pit holes on the music score. The song was finished with such perfection that the conductor actually smiled. It was the first time (and also the last) I saw her smile. Then something unexpected happened. The audience below, who have been very quiet since, clapped. I was shocked for a moment. Not because I think we didn't deserve it (for we did) but because we were not told to be expecting this. And boy, it felt great.

This is like now. Perhaps we are doing something not easily appreciated by many. But we kept on going, despite the lack of understanding and applause. This is like practice. There might or not might be a chance to perform. But when there is one, leave no hesitation in the minds of the audience to give a standing ovation.

A table with no legs

I have just received a table with no legs. I must admit I was not expecting it and I am not sure whatever to do with it. I looked at it for a long time, scrutinising it, trying to make sense of the piece of art (if you could call that art). I have decided that I didn't like it. For one, it's presence causes great inconvenience. It stands in the way of the sunlight and cast an ugly shadow (on your conscience) which makes having parties highly unlikely in the few days to come. And it is not exactly disposable. I have to keep it with me until I have served my term, my school term.








Yes, I am talking about my exam timetable.

The dose for doze

I can't sleep. It is past 1 am and barely 10 degrees.

I had a dream recently. I dreamt of my dead hamster, who was also dead in my dreams. I dreamt of a dying goldfish. In fact, my dead hamster was in the same tank as the dying goldfish.

Was this a consequence of morbid thoughts, I do not know. Was this the reason of my restless state, I do not know.

Perhaps this has something to do with the recent episodes in my life. Not that I've dealt with death. Heaven forbids, no. Just the occasional ups and downs. Maybe a lot more ups than usual. And some feelings with confused positioning on the up-down scale.

Maybe the chocolate mud cake was one too much for dessert and I am now to suffer the after-effects of a sugar overdose.

Maybe its the unfinished homework which lies on my desk now, beckoning to my conscience, drawing me from sleep.

Maybe its a combination of reasons, rather than just a distinct one. Yet, as I lie wide awake in my bed, thinking of the maybe of all maybes, I failed to see that maybe, its just me.

Maybe I'll better another day

It has been a long time. Busy would be the more socially accepted excuse for my not writing but as this is my blog, let me just be painfully honest. I have nothing to say. Nothing interesting at least. I could complain about the cold weather or the dreadful student life but more tired than I of ranting, are you of reading I'm sure. Or I could choose to write a story. A fake one, a real one or one somewhere in between. It doesn't really matter as long as it is entertaining. However, a story with no main focus or direction is like a person without an aim. There is no feelings in me right now which is strong enough for a story. I could also take a recent life experience and talk about it in some weird and abstract way such that no one other than myself could understand. But that will take much effort on my side for distorting and yours for deciphering and so I have decided against it. So I guess you could say this post is like the aimless person. For I am going to end it here, without necessarily having a point made.