I heard this playing over the radio in the drive home this evening. It's raining, the street lights the whole way on the freeway was out of operation. The road, wet and dark, glistened occassionally illuminated by the passing headlights of cars.
For reasons unknown to my consciousness, the song just fills me with fondness, and was just so fitting of the mood.
Another Monday tomorrow where everything is just distasteful again.
25.05.2008, Sunday
My little car carked itself. I should say finally, as really, I saw it coming from miles (months) away. But as usual, I kept on with the abuse, neglecting to send it in for servicing, trusting that the trusty little red hatchback will serve me faithfully, coughing in the cold winter mornings bathed in condensation ferrying me from one place to another. I really saw it coming, and should have been prepared for such a day.
But nothing comforts the helplessness I felt that Sunday evening, sitting inside my small little red hatchback, turning the keys, shifting the gear into position and wishing, willing it to come alive.
26.05.2008, Monday
In my day planner, I had written, "One day Mom, I will be happy." I can't quite remember what that was for.
27.05.2008, Tuesday
Simon's dad passed away this morning.
It will take me a while to forget the shock, and look of utter loss in his eyes.
And I wonder it takes the loss of such magnitude to make me wonder why I get hung up about things that means absolutely nothing.
29.05.2008, Thursday
It's Dad' birthday today.
I have been walking to the station to catch the train to work since the car breaking down. This morning, a school girl in the train, sitting on the floor, she was reading her book upside down. Curious.
Then, at the main station, waiting for my connecting train, I saw the man of my dreams hurry past. He was in navy pinstripe shirt, untucked. Jeans frayed and faded, laptop bag slung on the left shoulder, cigarette ready in hand.
I noticed him. I wonder if he noticed this stranger girl noticing him.
For a brief moment, I could feel myself smile at my girlish whim again.
04.06.2008, Wednesday
I had 2 packages arrive today! One contains my new instax mini polaroid camera, and the other the psychedelic gold converse.
Dad never bought me a polaroid whilst growing up. I don't quite know why considering that I have wheedled and gotten much more expensive things before. So now that I'm all grown up, I could afford one for myself. Bought an instax mini instead of the original polaroid - yes, the purists would scorn and disapprove, but heck, films for instax mini are cheaper and easier to get hold of. Perhaps one day...when they decide to un-phase-out polaroid films...
05.06.2008, Thursday
First left.
Second right.
Second right.
And repeat.
It was fun, a little exploration all by myself. At first I was apprehensive to have my camera out walking around like a tourist taking photos. But after the second right corner I took landed me in a never before visitted arcade in the city, I did feel like a tourist then, seeing bit of the city with new eyes. And then I was less apprehensive about taking photos.
08.06.2008, Sunday
12.33 am. I really ought to be sleeping. But I'm still wide awake, still working on my cup of coffee.
I saw a really docile greyhound dog outside of Planet Books this afternoon. I usually don't take any liking to greyhounds, but this mutt was adorable. He was whining as I pet him. How very lovable, that small head on the big body. :)
**********
I'm thinking, I'd really like to write fiction.
Very addicted to this song by Peter, Bjorn and John. Thanks to Lenaballerina for sharing. :)
if i told you things i did before
told you how i used to be
would you go along with someone like me
if you knew my story word for word
had all of my history
would you go along with someone like me
i did before and had my share
it didn't lead nowhere
i would go along with someone like you
it doesn't matter what you did
who you were hanging with
we could stick around and see this night through
and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about our own folks
talkin' 'bout our own stuff
all we care about is talking
talking only me and you
usually when things has gone this far
people tend to disappear
no one would surprise me unless you do
i can tell there's something goin' on
hours seem to disappear
everyone is leaving i'm still with you
it doesn't matter what we do
where we are going to
we can stick around and see this night through
and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about our own folks
talkin' 'bout our own stuff
all we care about is talking
talking only me and you
and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about our own folks
talkin' 'bout our own stuff
all we care about is talking
talking only me and you
(repeat)
talking only me and you
talking only me and you
talking only me and you
So it's been over 2 months since I have written anything in this journal. Fair to say, I haven't really been writing at all these past few months. Some days I do fear that my incessant brooding will make me slowly, slowly lose any capability of stringing sentences together to verbalise my internal thoughts. I don't know. I seem to be losing the ability to relate to most other people.
Last week I received a small package from France. J had sent me 2 plastic keychain tokens. On one, it said, Artist. On the other, Muse.
Are those the hand of the Artist? Or Muse? I don't know. I'd just like to think that I try my best in everything I put myself in to. And if it is good enough for me to put my 100%, then I certainly don't take anything less in return.
Some days I just want to stay at home and waste time.
I've always had the Art of Life in my music database. So, some random night also a few weeks ago, I listened to it in its entirety for the very first time.
And for the very first time also I felt like I understood, that there might just be a method to this madness.
There was a fan, broken and forlorn by the side of the road last night.
My good friend Bish called. We talked for good 48 minutes. The last time we talked was over msn. We argued bitterly about the semantics of psychology and the human behaviour.
This afternoon, we talked about our desires to travel the worlds, to live and breathe independence. We remenisce old friends and their well being. We shared good laughs, and some introspective moments.
We sighed over the phone, only to laugh again, sadly.
We wished each other Happy Mother's Day before hanging up.
This is my Sunday. A little different from other Sundays, but not by much.
At Kmart, walking towards the check out:
"Mum, how much did it cost?..."
"Well you got a dollar back from a hundred. It's ninety-eight dollars."
*
Driving past the neighbourhood slimming and wellness centre, she was plump in her 70's shiny leotard and grey hoodie jumper. In her hand, a 600ml carton of mocha shake.
