"Obstinate Child"
Gu Cheng

Maybe my mother spoiled me
I'm obstinate

I want every moment to be
as gorgeous as crayons are
I want to draw pictures on lovely white sheets of paper
to paint clumsy freedom
to draw an eye that never weeps
a sky, a feather and a leaf pertaining to the sky
to paint green night and pale apple

I want to paint portraits of the morning
to draw smiles witnessed by the morning dew
to draw the freshest, most painless love
to draw the lover of my mind's eye

I want to paint distant landscapes
to draw the clear horizon and the surf
to draw many surging streams
to draw mountains coated with pastel fuzz
let every trepidation of a quiet spring
mark the birth of a tiny flower

I want to draw the future
I have not met her yet, but I know she is a beauty
I sketch the cape she wears in autumn
and the burning candles and the maple leaves
draw the feastday morning when I wake up early
a festival decked out in candy wrappers
and pictures from fairy tales of the North

I want to draw windows all over the earth
To let eyes accustomed to the darkness learn the habit of light
I want to draw the wind, mountain peaks
Paint the dreams of the people of the East
To colour in the sea

And last of all on some stray corner of the sheet
I want to draw myself, koala bear
perched in a dour forest, on a bough, in a daze
with no home, no heart left behind in a far off land
with only an abundance of dreams
like berries and big eyes

I hope, ponder, but do not know why
no one gives me crayons
not even a moment of coulor
I only have me
my fingers and my pains
I can only tear off strip after strip
of lovely clean paper
to flutter off in search of butterflies
to fade from today

I am a child, Mother Wit's spoiled brat
I am obstinate.

this is better.

lunch with family, naps in the car and adventures to the ulu ends of Singapore with Gus, holding hands with my grandfather, skyping with friends. I like to see Gus' face light up when he plays with his new camera, and I like to tell my dad "have fun take care" when he leaves for another holiday. simple conversation and simple people. life slowed down but full of meaning. I like this very much.

I like that idea/theory I once read somewhere. I don't remember where. it said that,

at any major decision/choice we make, in one (or many) parallel universe(s), we make the other choice(s). and so in these one (or many) parallel universe(s) we live out our lives embarking on that/those choice(s). that means that every person has have to got thousands of thousands of parallel lives ongoing at this moment. which is exciting: I could be a famous musician, or athlete, or published author, or a beggar, or in an orphanage... or in a school overseas, or an astronaut-in-training, or the owner of a scuba diving company, or a marine biologist prodigy, or a mahout, or an animal keeper, or a conservation biologist, or an up-and-coming journalist, or a school drop-out, or in prison, or pregnant, or a mother

that is fun. kind of in a "well, that was fun" way.
it's fun because I'll never find that trapdoor to these parallel universes
so I'll still always be here
but it's fun, because at least somewhere out there, I suppose,
if only in the non-existent ethereal regions concocted by my brain
I'm experiencing the world

it's fun. and comforting.

"A Story That Could Be True"
William Stafford

If you were exchanged in the cradle and
your real mother died
without ever telling the story
then no one knows your name,
and somewhere in the world
your father is lost and needs you
but you are far away.

He can never find
how true you are, how ready.
When the great wind comes
and the robberies of the rain
you stand on the corner shivering.
The people who go by--
you wonder at their calm.

They miss the whisper that runs
any day in your mind,
"Who are you really, wanderer?"--
and the answer you have to give
no matter how dark and cold
the world around you is:
"Maybe I'm a king."

Naomi Shihab Nye's 
"The Rider"

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

sometimes people get tired. also, I've decided to only blog when I actually have something useful to share. most of the time I ramble, and I don't like when other people ramble so I will not ramble. rambling is to thought what stammering is to speech. I'm happy I don't stammer. I admire people who grow out of their stammers. I think it takes a lot of effort.

also, exams are in three weeks. it's been awhile since feeling such impending doom. university was supposed to mean that the days of intense mugging are o.v.e.r. university is nothing like I thought. I wish university was what I thought it would be. interesting discourse in tutorials of 10 people, lecturers who leap enthusiastically down the aisles, lecture theaters constantly erupting into laughter, showing up to class with hangovers, enormous green lawns surrounded by buildings so old they sway when the wind blows

caught naive, once again