Quiet madness

Life has been really quiet. There were moments, just moments, when I wished I was back in the madness of the corporate world. It was more to acquire that feeling of coming home from work, where I would have an incredible smile on my face for a good 30 seconds because I was out of the office. When my life is as unbumpy as it is now, I don't get to experience these kinds of cheap thrills.

I must be mad.

Crushes crush

Crushes crush. Meaning they're not real and typically hurt. Feelings not reciprocated. Well, I knew from the moment I realized I had those feelings, things wouldn't go anywhere. It would be too good to be true. I've never been with anyone I had real feelings for. Which, perhaps is the best thing possible. Better to be friends forever than for the inevitable crumble of emotional openness to occur when expectations come into play in a relationship.

Quiet night

It's deliciously quiet here tonight, it's almost sublime. Looking out of the window, I see zero traffic with just the trees breaking the yellow-colored street lighting falling on the road. Surprisingly, the buildings across from me are all kind of dark. That's unusual. I normally see more windows lit up at this time of the night. It's bizarre but nice....

I've just finished compiling and printing out the various notes I have written since 2002. As I went about re-reading those notes, the memories came flooding back. Some were pleasant, others beautiful. Some were simple brutal to relive. But I soldiered on and braved through it. I am almost amazed at how well written some of those notes were. It puts me to shame that I am unable to put pen to paper the way I used to be able to. I've lost the lyricism. I've even lost the plot. I don't have anything interesting to say anymore.

Getting back to old roots

I had a little time on my side today and decided to continue a conversation I have been engaging in with a friend on email, when it suddenly dawned on me whilst writing that it was kind of weird to be penning such longish emails. I don't think I've done this for.... it's so long I can't remember when was the last time I actively sat down and spilt my guts out to a friend on paper, well, electronic paper in this case.

I do remember the days when I was in London, and the only way I could keep in touch with friends was to write letters. No world-wide-web then. Now when I think back about those times, I'd go "How quaint!". I would buy pretty pastel colored paper, some times with prints on them. Some were scented, and I remember how precious I thought beautiful writing paper and envelops were. Each letter I wrote was special. I would pre-plan what I'll write. After all, I had to squeeze whatever I was dying to update on that one sheet. A poor student like me could not afford to mail letters heavier than 18 grams, and there was no way in hell I was going to waste good paper by writing in huge fonts or to revise what I wanted to say midway. There were occasions when I chanced upon some beautiful stickers in the stationary stores and would buy them and stick them in the letters. That was how I went about personalizing my letters... I just rolled my eyes thinking about that.

Times have changed hasn't it? There was email, then messenging and now a host of networks to connect with one another. It certainly has made it easier to keep in touch with friends that I otherwise wouldn't. But, most of it is so impersonal, and in a way it has also distanced me from friends that I might have forged closer relationships with. Even now, with the gang that I hang out with, we exclusively make appointments with one another through SMS texting. None of that phone calls or chatting till the wee hours of the morning. So, I'm glad I've found a friend who appreciates the lost art of exchanging words of the heart in writing. True, it isn't the same as putting pen to paper and breathing in the scent of ink on pulp. And, of course, it can't beat the exhilaration of finding some thing from the postman. But hey, I'm not fussed. Besides, I'm happy to pretend that I'm being old school... Oh well, sort of...

Story-telling

This evening, I attended Sinema Old School's Incubator Shorts Screening. I went with low expectations. After all, this IS Singapore, where creativity only comes in smalls slivers and almost always unexpectedly. Plus, creativity to occur in the work of short film makers? Pfft. Unlikely, or so I thought.

It was an interesting session. I hesitate to use the words "blown-away". I was not. However, I was pleasantly surprised. There were the eye-rolling moments and the odd occasion where my face tightened into a cringe, but at the root of each film was the undeniable strength of a story that entertained. It didn't matter if it was about a woman suffering the loss of a loved one, the predicament of growing old, or some silly alternate universe about fighting for survival. Each story caught my attention because they were immensely easy to relate to. I guess that is what story-telling is all about - a situation with tension/drama and a way out of it that speaks to others.

I was rather unsure about turning up for the screening this evening. If I hadn't mentioned to my friend that I would turn up and show support, I think I would have been happy staying home watching Roland Garros. I'm pleased that I made the right choice. As much as tennis attracts, this screening was an experience I had never encountered before. And, I'm a big advocate of new things that add a lil spice to life. It was definitely surreal being the old fart amongst a bunch of trendy youngsters. But hey, one gal did say to me when she figured out my age from the various milestone dates I mentioned:

No way.... I swear you're my age!

That's ten years younger. I'm pleased as punch.