maze

here i stand, before judgement's gates
waiting to hear of my fate
as i look around all dazed and confused
wondering if my mind's run loosed

i listened as the angel read out my life
it flashes out right before my eyes
all the friends i've made and lost
all the moments come and gone
seems to me my life has been a waste

til i see something out of the corner of my eyes
letting the rest of my memories go by
took a closer look and focused
truth be told it wasnt what i'd expected
to see the image at the end of my life

the image of you always returns
drawing me from the dream like daze
and for some reason
i'm stuck here right now in this endless maze of you

here i stand, before these closed gates
seems to me i was too late
as i walk about all dazed and confused
wondering why everything's so new

i watch as the people about me walk by
everyone going about their own lives
all the friends i've made and lost
all the moments come and gone
seems to me my life has been a waste

til i see something out of the corner of my eyes
letting the rest of my memories go by
took a closer look and focused
truth be told it wasnt what i'd expected
to see the image at the end of my life

the image of you always returns
drawing me from the dream like daze
and for some reason
i'm stuck here right now in this endless maze of you

i cant go on
and i cant go back
everything past and future's gone
and all the present's gone off track

yet the image of you always returns
drawing me from the dream like daze
and for some reason
i'm stuck here right now in this endless maze of you

the image of you always returns
drawing me from the dream like daze
and for some reason
i'm stuck here right now in this endless maze of you
this endless maze of you

never mine

its been only five minutes since you left
and i'm missing you already
all this time i must have been dumb and deaf
trying to fight my feelings

must have been the biggest fool
caught up in my own fantasy
'cos i've been too lost in you
all this time too blind to see

that you were never gonna be mine
that chasing after you would be just another waste of time
you were always gonna be the desire that was to be denied
but i was then too blinded by my own selfish pride

all this time, all this while
all i ever wanted to say
i love you
i loved you ever since i met you

five months by since you left
and yet i'm still missing you
all this time it seemed i'm stuck in a crash
stuck here without a single clue

seems i'm always a step too late
never able to grasp the situation
to someone who doesnt ever seem to wait
bounded by conflicting emotions

you were never gonna be mine
chasing after you would be another waste of time
desire made flesh only to be denied
loving you it seemed would be a crime

all this time, all this while
all i ever wanted to say
i love you
i loved you ever since i saw you

all this while, all this time
all i ever wanted to say
i miss you
i've been missing you all this time

holding onto a fading memory
lost and drowned in my misery
seems to me i've lost you way back then

but you were never mine to begin with
you got your own free live to start living
i'm only fooling myself all this time

but all this time, all this while
all i ever wanted to say
but never had the chance to say
i love you
i loved you all this time
i loved you all this while

truth be told...

i hate you.

i hate myself.

in fact, i hate almost everything there is to hate/like.

i hate the rose-tinted spectacles-wearing people that proclaim this land home, i hate the white-wearing people who decide what you can/cannot do, i hate the delusional and misguided populace.

i hate the idea of fate and destiny, i hate the fact that i'm not in control of my life.

i hate the double standards imposed upon different people, i hate the fact that we are judged by academia, yet we learn nothing of the real world from schools.

i hate the shows that are playing on the google box nowadays, i hate the ratings-craving reality shows, everything is the same, rehashed and recycled.

i hate the music playing over the air nowadays, i hate the self-proclaimed emo-rocker poser who wears pink and studded earrings. i hate the money grabbing industrial-churned out package(read boy bands, girl bands, next big thing) who spend their fifteen minutes of fame posing and then leave with nary a whimper.

i hate people seeking excuses and shifting blames.

people will always seek scapegoats for whatever problems there are. blame it on the government, blame it on tom, dick or harry, blame it on the weather, blame it on circumstance. more often than not, religion plays a big part on this. the crusades, jihads, genocides, world wars. senseless butchery and savagery carried out on the word of righteousness of the spoken truth. clashing of differing views and faiths, leading up to vicious verbal attacks, followed by show of arms, resulting in mass suffering.

in good times, it'll be praising of the faith, of 'miracles', or divine intervention. people, blinded and deluded by their faiths, believing that some higher being up there will make things better, that better days would come after offering sacrifice. religion is without a doubt, the easiest and laziest of all scapegoats and excuses.

to quote, "human beings are like germs; viruses, disease, a plague on the surface of these planet."

take a moment to think about it, and you'll find that its true.

i am an angry little man.

welcome to the desert of the real

they tell you what they want you to hear
they feed you what they want you to believe
when all they do is play on all your fears
denying you the right to be free

welcome
to the desert of the real
when all's said and done
nothing is as it feels

but you're plugged in too deep
connected to everything they've sold you
you feel like you wont wake up from this sleep
all hopes are getting far and few

welcome
to the desert of the real
everything's made up of ones and nones
nothing's old and nothing's new

its ironic you cant sleep at night
you're afraid of the knock on your door
the inner demons that you fight
that keeps you pinned down on the floor

welcome
to the desert of the real
the choice is now right before you
will it be the blue or red pill

welcome
to the desert of the real

essential luxuries

"eat first, die later"

seriously, whats the difference between a plate of chicken rice in orchard road, and a plate of chicken rice in your friendly neighbourhood coffee shop? the answer? the price. it doesnt matter how tasty and succulent the chicken meat is, or how soft the rice is. it can taste like dog poo, but no one's going to bat an eyelid when they hand over some 10-odd bucks for the plate of chicken rice if its in orchard road, and the store looks posh and fancy enough.

i guess i may be the only one alone in this train of thought, but i'd rather pay neighbourhood prices for my food. their cheap, usually tasty, and ultimately fill your stomach, fulfilling its intended purposes. spending inflated prices for the decor, ambience and what-not, to me, is just plain luxury. unless its a special occassion, you wont find me shelling out my money on fancy pansy food outlets.

and whats so special about 小笼包s? they cost 10bucks, and its only 1 mouthful. there's some sauce/soup inside, but that's all there is. its just a fricking small bite sized chicken bun filled with soup inside to me. i dont really get why people would want to spend 10bucks on 9small buns when a fist sized chicken bun costs less then 1buck. guess its the novelty factor and wallet size.

from all the above, one would probably deduce that i'm a stingy guy. yeah, so what. there are luxuries, and there are essentials in life. it just depends on how one would arrange them. to me, luxuries are spending obscene prices on essentials. especially when you're on a limited income, i really dont see why one should go and spend without forethought. or maybe its just everyone's sold on the TV idealogy nowadays, highlighted by Chuck Palahniuk.

block

"Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine and at last you create what you will." ~ George Bernard Shaw

ideas come and go, like taxi cabs during peak hours. try to grab one, and you're left with a fleeting glimspe of the whole thing. some people attribute the ability to fulfil these ideas as creativity, others as imagination. all i know is, i've been scolded for daydreaming too many times during my younger days to be concerned with what others say.

it always ends up as a story these days, these ideas of mine. different types of stories; different settings, different people, different meanings. some come easy, like taking a book and finding the pages beign written already, but most just arrives with an inkling of the main plot.

if i'm thinking about creating a vast world, in a ancient fantasy background, complete with fantasy creatures, it'd be easy. with all the task of creation, its like playing god in my mind. who to make powerful, who to kill, etc, etc. but when i stumble upon an idea, or a drift of an idea, set in real life, or mirroring real life, its hard to come out with something solid, something substantial. i have the main plot, what the whole thing's going to be about, i have a clear view on what i want to tell, but its like getting the body of the story. you'd think it would be easy. you'd think wrong. the hardest part comes with formulating a credible begining, setting of the whole mood, whole feel of the story. its like, 'do i set it in LA, or Tokyo?' or 'this surroundings doesnt really suit what i want, now that i think of it.' this is usually the part i come in with a massive stop sign in my head stating "block" in big bold red letters. its hard to get round this block, and my success rate with it is less than favourable.

damn this block.

ah bengism

there was a time, when if you had a 明 in your name, you'd be called Ah Beng. and thats all to it.

then along with time, and some buddies in the form of Ah Seng, Ah Kow, Ah Beng was used to address any chinese guy on the street. it became the singaporean equivilent of "Tom, Dick, and Harry".

then somwhere along the early 90s, Ah Beng was a term used to refer to those ne'er-do wells, dialect spouting(usually hokkien and swear words), which soon evolved into uncouth, young wannabes. easily recognizable, they'd be the ones who wear tight fitting collered shirts usually in a bright garish colour, long tight jeans with sweeping ends, slick gelled dyed hair usually in centre parting, long wallets and to complete the equation, a comb with a long sharp pointed handle. they'd often have techno beats on their handphones/music device and would usually point out their favourite past time was the Dance Dance Revolution machine in the arcades.

now, the modern Ah Beng has evolved to a trend following, still techno music blasting(from his handphone) t-shirt wearing guy, just sans the centre parted hair, jeans, wallet and comb.

so with all that evidence and history, that proves that i am no Ah Beng.

so why do friends i meet still call me one?

i am no follower of trends, i wear whats on top of the pile of clothes. i cant stand techno music, and feel liek whacking the next guy who blasts it from his handphone on public transport, and even if i do spout hokkien and swear occassionally, i reserve them for special occassions(namely during a football match). so what makes me an ah beng?

sure, i've been in fights, but i dont really shout thos juvenile and amatuer "yo-ah-yo" chants. those are for posers, and wannabes. i smoke, but i'd doubt the normal ah beng smoke as much as me. i speak hokkien and swear, but thats because i AM hokkien and as for the swearing, you sometimes just gotta let it out. so where's the justification?

and i'm pretty sure that if i AM an ah beng, you'd be hard pressed to find one more eloquent than me.