it's a wrap!

just another manic monday…

Archive for Musings

stop running, stop hiding

Call it an epiphany (I didn’t even realize I know the word till I needed to write it!), call it a revelation, call it what you may. A realization, maybe.

Whenever I get heartaches, people hurt me, I shy away, I turn around and I walk away. I psych-talk myself into thinking and feeling its not that big a deal, do not make a scene. Just quietly slip away.

I have been doing that all my life. And in the past, I grew to resent the people I am with because I hid so much of my hurts, my disappointments, my I’m-not-ok-with-this from them.

It became a habit to ask for those emotions to be taken away, it became a habit to tiptoe around things I love because I was afraid to lose them, afraid that once they see how much they mean to me, they turn tail and sprint the other way. It became a habit to always, always hold back.

Yes, I am disappointed, I am hurt. It feels like a knife is being stuck into my heart and twisted intentionally, slowly. Almost to a physical pain.

This time, I am not going to run anymore. I am going to stand my ground and I am going to face it. Face my heart and what it’s really feeling. No running away, no hiding. No more.

It’s time to face it.

Source of Inspiration

Sometimes you never know when something you do encourages inspires someone.
But I know many a times when i have been inspired by the people I know.


I have a group of people I should thank. It’s been many moons since I last sang and played.
Somewhere in the chaos and humdrum of daily slog and life, the notes, the rhythm just got left behind.
Maybe I told her once too many times, that I was busy, that I didn’t have time for her. Eventually her calls got softer. And I haven’t heard them in a long time.
Recently, I began to hear music again, felt the passion stirring in the little corners of my heart. Felt the sweetness when I caressed the smooth taut wood.
I begin to hear the notes, cadences and lilting melodies amidst the hustle and bustle of life. I began to hear music again, once I started to listen.

i know i shouldn’t

I know I shouldn’t but I do.
I know I cannot, but I am.
I do wish sometimes that emotions are like taps of water when you can turn them off and turn them on whenever.

This is so ridiculous, I barely know you.

And I want to. But I guess time is not on my side.

I don’t have the luxury of discovering your gentleness and kindness at leisure.

I don’t have ample opportunity or time to meet you for lunches, teas and dinners.

I shouldn’t have let my feelings run away from me.

I shouldn’t have danced with you.

I didn’t regret it, but  I shouldn’t have.

Wiping the slate clean

Wiping the slate clean.
What a valuable chance one gets when one gets the chance to wipe the slate clean.
Erase the hurt i caused. Erase the words i said. Erase the mistakes i made. Erase the past.
When you get a chance to start over (frankly i thought these situations only happened in movies) what do you do?
The rational answer would of course be: why, take it, embrace it, live it!


喝杯茶, 吃個包

On a sunny Friday morning, I’m sitting here drinking tea, eating a bun. Somehow that doesn’t quite convey the full essence of the meaning when said in English as opposed to saying it in Chinese. I want to say like I’m relaxed, laid back, all prepared to welcome the weekend, and just sipping my tea and nibbling dainty morsels of cha siew, with it’s chewy outerwear.

Oh well, I’m glad it’s the starting of the weekend. The kind where one just goes with the flow. I sort of know what I have to do over the weekend. But not restricted by time.

There’s a place for a productive weekend where everything is planned to a T, appointments are made to the minute and things get accomplished. Satisfaction at the end of the weekend.

Then there’s a place for the other kind of weekend. It’s vague. Plans are made for lunch but no specific time set. A call when one wakes up. I might go run an errand or service the car impromptu. Maybe even paint for a bit if time permits.

Which kind of weekend do I prefer? Maybe the latter most of the time, with the former just to break the routine once in awhile.


Instinct, animal or otherwise

Instinct, that creepy crawly feeling you get when you look down a pitch black tunnel and think, maybe I should not go this way.

Instinct, when you see a dog in the middle of the road and turn back to take a detour.

Instinct, when you feel uncomfortable with someone and later finds out his a douche bag.

Instinct, born within us, to protect us, to flee from danger. Used correctly, this handy a tool might save one from mortal peril and some heartbreaks as well.

I remember I identified with the very thing the serial rapist/killer said. It was in the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. The actor had managed to get out of the killer’s house, but the killer opened his screen door and offered him a drink. Against his instinct, he went back in, and almost died because of that. I just remembered the goosebumps and the chill in my heart when I heard what the killer said to him, after confessing to the actor that he was the killer.

He portrayed himself, much like Ted Bundy, reserved, shy, non aggressive.

All the women over the years that he killed made just one small mistake, accepting his innocent offer of a drink or a seat with him. There was no reason to decline. They never made it alive out his door again. He sees their fear and sense their uneasiness, yet because of the innocence of the request he made of them, against their natural instinct, which sense danger, and which screamed at them to take flight, they ignored it. They accepted his innocent offer, and they were doomed.

He laughed, yes he did. He knows that had they said, “No, thank you.”, they would’ve lived. They would have made it back  to their homes, safe and sound. If only they had heeded that God given instinct to flee.

I think I better pay more attention to mine!


The True Story

An actor said on the silver screen, “To use photography to tell the truest stories, that was his aspiration.”
He then told a story of a reporter who spent years documenting the journey of a president from his ascent to his descent from the post.
After that he said he wanted to be a volunteer and to photograph the reality and the impact of the Sumatran earthquake disaster upon the Indonesians.
It was just one of those cantonese drama series from Hong Kong, the title was Only You. Well, for documentation purposes, I need to record the name!
But truly, never will I have thought that I would hear the echo of the dream I dared not even verbalize, vocalized in such vividness. That shiver ran down my spine as the actor shared his dream with his partner.
And I realized that, hey, given a chance, that is precisely what I want to do.
To travel the world, to see what the different countries really are, not just lines and dots and names on a geographical map. But real people, flesh, blood, culture, smiles, tears, the living expression of those places, those names. I wanted to relate those countries with real experiences.
To take photographs and to tell stories through them.
To give the subjects in those photos, voices.
To let their stories be told through the generations.
To let the future know the past.
To let children learn from past mistakes and emulate past nobility.
To let those memories live on.

what we pray for

Just read a forwarded mail: 3 Trees
Oh, how lofty and high their dreams and ambitions were. Not unlike when I was little and the teacher asked our class what our ambitions and dreams were. Some will say, “My ambition is to be a pilot”. Some, “My ambition is to be a doctor”. A lawyer, a nurse, a teacher. I remember mine was to be a neurosurgeon in primary.
Back to the little 3 trees. One wanted to be filled with the finest treasures on earth, but was made into a feed box in a manger, one wanted to carry the great kings and queens of the world but was made into a fishing boat, one wanted to be the biggest, tallest, strongest tree, reach and be close to God, but was cut up into pieces and left in a barn.
In the end, Tree One nestled the baby born on Christmas day, Tree Two carried the humble carpenter, King of Kings and Tree Three was the beam from which the King gave up His right.
In the end, each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they imagined.
I am thinking of all those times when I asked, why, why have I been asking for something for so many years and I don’t see it happening?
Could it be, could it just be that I will get what I want, just not in the way I thought I would?
Well, dare I hope?

what if…

I stretched. I heard bones creaking, I hear little “twacks” coming from my joints, I feel the muscle aches. I allowed those two words to drift into my mind and linger. Interesting how two short, petite words can speak with such volumes. What if…
I allowed my imagination to run a little wild here.
What if I really get to marry the man I love?
What if I really get to have my dreams?
What if I really get to go where I want to go?
What if I really get to experience what I desire most?
What if I really get to have the freedom I want?
The possibility seems endless when I think about it, when I allowed myself the luxury to pause for a moment and think about the “what ifs”.
It’s been awhile.
I welcomed it like an old friend whom I’ve lost touch with. Cautiously, yet the familiarity comforts me, if it was a little rusty. That needs a little work. But maybe, just maybe one day, I could finally say, “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”