Youngest kid of six with an inferiority and black sheep complex, but determined that God saves not just his soul to heaven but the remainder of his manic-depressive life, so others won't say he became a Christian and remained a jerk.
i won't be transparent before i'm opaque. and you'll get to know me starting from the small things: who my favourite bands are. what kind of movies i like. who are my heroes.
I’m convinced that when confronted with sincere, real love, the Jesus factor will become obvious. But let’s not plant the cross before we carry it. I’m not trying to con you.
Some dreams are meant to be achieved. I know that. But maybe other dreams are meant to drive us, privately. Never known to anyone but ourselves.
It is a sadness that, when choosing between crying and sighing, will choose sighing. I'd almost say that melancholy is being sad about sadness itself.
On memory and nostalgia
It saddens me when life moves forward and people decide that certain things are worth forgetting.
I've learnt that the word irregardless is filed as a non-standard word in the English language. That's a lexicographer's way of saying it's not a real word.
Crowds are fickle things. So when we stand in the thousands and cry against the present government, do we know who we're actually crying for?
People always want the best for themselves. But I want to sometimes take second or third or fourth best, just so that the loser down the road doesn't always have to come in last. It must feel like shit to always come in last.
On growing old
Leasehold property make me feel sad. It doesn't matter how old the family photos are that you put on your wall. It's your family but it's not really your wall.
I ask you, if God loves everyone, and if God is also incapable of loving evil, how can there be such a thing as an evil man?
On a daily basis
One line quips, like this.
Monday, March 26, 2007
THE MALAYSIAN DREAM
I'm all lost in the supermarket. I can no longer shop happily.
- The Clash
That's The Clash critiqueing the culture of consumerism and loneliness. shopping for a life can be fun when you start out. the world is a blank page for you to write on. but after a while, it gets tedious. you realise that the world is not really a blank page, but more like a multiple choice paper. and all the freeform ideas you have don't really fit into the templates for an urban life.
the malaysian dream. what would i do for it?
see, if that were a hyphothetical question, i'd be in good hands. but it's not. and essentially what i'm going through now is the phase where i count the cost of the malaysian dream and consider if it's something i really want to add to my cart. i don't know how they marketed the malaysian dream to you. to me, it's a condo, two japanese cars, a wife and 2.5 kids, a college fund and some investments tucked away somewhere. it's the life that everyone seems to want. everyone except me.
i've seen enough condos to know that after a while, they all start looking the same. i've seen enough japanese cars to know that they're all approximations of each other. and i've met enough young families to know that all of them are chasing after the same pie in the sky, wife and kids and dog all in tow.
why would i want something like that?
security? camaraderie? the part of me that actually wants it, is it responding to some intrinsic need for these things or is it just years of social programming? picket fences are only nice if you know what picket fences mean. until then, they're just a bunch of white sticks. so why am i so torn between buying into this malaysian dream and the opposite - living a life of sheer abandon, anarchic and impulsive, unshackled, adventurous and free?
have you ever met a guy who had pre-wedding jitters eventhough he wasn't about to get married? yeah, that's what it feels like. i always say that a man isn't ready to marry until he experiences pre-wedding jitters because it's only in pre-wedding jitters that a man properly considers the absolute finality and fullness of his commitment to the girl he's picked. and after considering it fully, and going ahead with it, you know he's in good hands, cos he's counted the cost.
the same thing stands before me. this looming, constraining life of rigid routine that i might grow to love one day, this arduously mundane back-and-forth populated with cute lovable loved-ones, this repetitive, self-sacrificing, self-controlled tedium, this boredom, this... this... normalcy.
Labels: growing old, melancholy
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