Fourth Blog: After Midnight

1) Open you eyes and observe something that looks interesting or catches your eyes as you travel around.

2) Snap a photo of the thing if you can. If can't, just make a mental picture of it.

3) Think deeply about who or what that thing/person is. Do you think there is a story behind the person/object.

4) Write/blog the story

This is the story of an average Singaporean office worker…

The time was 5:20am. Jacob was lying in his bed, sleeping peacefully, dreaming about his 'Dream Girl', living in his 'Dream House', and owning his 'Dream Car'. 10 minutes later, he realized that it was all a dream but his dreams transformed into reality. Well except there’s no 'Dream Girl', no 'Dream House' and no 'Dream Car', it was more like a nightmare.

Jacob just got a new job as an inventory associate at a National Geographic store. He had been working at a few bookstores before but only as a customer service associate, not an inventory staff. In other words he was pretty nervous.

It was his first day that day so he got up really early. He was supposed be at work at 8am but he was wide-awake at 5:30am. After going through his daily routine of breakfast and a glass of warm milk, he went in to the shower. Wanting to make a great impression, and to look smart of course, he shaved his little mustache and his little beard, leaving some to make it uniform.

Accidentally he shaved it too deep and he cut his upper lip. Blood gushed out as he quickly grabbed for a towel, which was hanging by the door in the shower. Putting pressure on his lips, he tried to wet it with water but realized that it was a bad idea. Screaming in pain, he waited till his lips felt numb. After cleaning up and putting a plaster on the cut, he quickly got dressed.

The time was 6:15am. He’s supposed to be out of the house by 6:30am so Jacob rushed to get ready. He opened his wardrobe to grab his neat and formal-looking shirt, which he had already ironed it late last night. After putting on his pants, he put both his arms in his shirts. Buttoning from top to bottom, he was shocked to find out that the last three buttons were missing. He cursed in anger. He knew in his head that things like this could happen to him. And even worst at a time like this.

He hastily went to check for any other neat looking outfit in the wardrobe and pulled out one. It was plaid and black. He didn’t really found a liking to the shirt but it was all that he had with a collar and long sleeve. So he finally was ready, wearing long black pants with a plaid shirt, not what he’d imagined wearing on his first day of work but it will do.

Jacob got out of the house. With the best look he could ever possibly imagine putting on, hair side parted, plaster on lip, his bag pack proportion on his shoulders and his socks, both pulled up to the same length. He waited at the near by bus stop for the bus to come. Living close to the main road was a convenience to him as there were a number of buses that go to the nearest MRT station.

So he finally boarded a bus and got to Tampines MRT Station at exactly 7:10am. He had precisely 50 minutes to get to Harbourfront MRT station, where the National Geographic store is located.

Staying positive about this when actual fact, Jacob was going to be late for his first day at work. He’s going to be late for a high paying job as an inventory associate at a popular company brand. So the train ride went smoothly. The train was quite packed, especially at that time as many people were heading to the town area for work.

It wasn’t until at Bugis MRT station when the train had stopped moving. The train had halted from a fast speed and got everyone in the train puzzled. At least a hundred people were in that train and at least a hundred of them were furious. One of them was Jacob of course. But shortly after the train started moving. To him it felt like minutes but the train only stopped for roughly 30 seconds.

Switching train lines, Jacob got on a different line. He ran quickly to get in to the other train. Soon the train reached Harbourfront MRT station. Jacob got out as soon as the train doors had opened. With sweat dripping down to his shirt, he ran as fast as he could.

He ran past the entrance, passing a number of stores before he reached the escalator. His phone rang but it took him quite a while to hear it and feel the vibration. He picked up the phone as he ran, only a few meters to the store. He placed his phone on his ear.

“Hey Jacob! It’s Elisa, the Head of Inventory for National Geographic. I’m really sorry to be informing you at the last minute but we had to swap your shift for today. I’ll contact you about your shift later in the day. Thanks anyways!”

Elisa put the phone down. Less than 4 steps to the store, Jacob stopped. Having a confused face, he walked slowly to the store, catching his breath. He stood in front of the store. Stunned and tired.

“Fuck”

Third Blog: Too old to die young

It felt strange. The walkway to schools, the houses and homes before it, the surroundings and the people all around. The air was motionless but when I opened my mouth, I felt a chill, like the chill when my lips and unguarded tongue makes contact with ice cold water.

The town was a very peaceful place, if you mind the riots. But what people don't see is the love that's found in west London.

__________________________________________________

I was hiding behind an office table, my hands were covering my ears, every inch of it covered. I turned my head around to see a few of my fellow workers doing the same thing. No one was hurt or injured but we were scared that it might get worst. The bombings were quite frequent, they were around three to five minutes apart and I was scared as hell. The first few bombings got us stuck in the office building as the exits were all blocked by the rubbles.

We were all in the sixth floor. Windows were shattered and glasses and other office equipments were on the floor. A fellow worker of mine lead us to the pantry, which was further into the floor space. There was food there, drinks for our thirst but no escape. We all waited there, checking if everyone was safe and if anyone was missing or injured, fortunately no one was dead.

We all couldn't take it. The situation was bad enough but enduring it was torture. All of us didn't know why help wasn't on the way. Half and hour, having rubbles in our sight and heat boiling in our faces was painful enough. We had to crawl to get from one place to another.

Double checking every exit there is, we found one. However the exit door was jammed but it had a small opening. The rubble on the other side was probably blocking our sweet escape. The opening was only 2 inches, I could only fit half of my palm in.

We pushed as hard as we could, the guys using their strength, even some of the ladies too. The door budged bit by bit. The opening now was about 12 inches, and it could only fit a few people inside, mostly the ladies. We got them out, and they cleared the rubbles, picking up the pieces of bricks out of the way, and slowly got us out.

We had to rush down the stairs, which was not as badly ruined as the office. Heading down, we rescued some office workers from the floors below. But another problem occured. The second floor stairs turned to rubble. There was no way out, or down. One of the guys, fit as he was, climbed down. It was difficult even for a fit guy like him but got down. He went out to get help.

At this point we realised that the bombings had stop. We were at the third floor, praying for a miracle. There were no other exits there and there were no windows either. A few minutes later, help came. A firefighter was shouting from the first floor calling us and we went up to the fourth where there was a window. A firetruck had an extended ladder out to the fourth floor, and slowly rescued us.

At the end of it all I wasn't injured but I was pretty traumatised about the whole thing. I didn't think we could all make it, especially when the door didn't budged and when the stairs didn't lead anywhere. But thank God I survived, thank God I was safe.

Second Blog: Young, Dumb and Full of C*m

"I don't wanna waste my time, becoming another casualty of society. I don't wanna fall in line, becoming another victim of conformity" - Fat Lip

Fat Lip by a band called Sum 41 was a song that I could easily say has changed my life. Everyone has a moment or a series of events that changed their life. Well mine was sort of this. If it wasn't for this band, and if it wasn't for this song specifically, I would have been a totally different person.

I was nine when I first heard this song. My older brother bought a CD called 'All Killer No Filler', and somehow, I couldn't stop listening to the record. I couldn't put it down. I couldn't stop listening to it. It was something completely different and new to what I've heard so far. And that kind of feeling was weird but good I guess. I mean the record had a strong and angry vibe to it that suits me. I didn't understand the lyrics at that age but I just sang it, I sang it out loud. It sounds gibberish but I sang my heart out. It felt right. It just felt right.

Surprisingly, what I've found out over the years was that this kind of music was already in my blood. It has always been. The whole punk rock idea was in me. I remember when I was 8 years old, I loved to play a game called 'Tony Hawk Pro Skater' on our family's Playstation. I could sing along to the whole soundtrack, not to the actual lyrics but to the melodies. I was 8! Humming to songs from bands like The Vandals, Dead Kennedys, The Ramones and Bad Religion. I don't think anyone did that, or at least not many.

It's just that the song 'Fat Lip' sort of got me into the whole rebellious stage. It's the reason I skipped school and started lying and all that crap that I posted in the first blog. It hit me, the feeling of being a part of something exclusive. The feeling that no one else knows this band or this song but me, or just basically saying, being selfish. And I liked that feeling. No one knew the songs that I loved to sing. No one else knows but me.

After many years, I found the lyrics and learnt the meaning of the song. What I've found out was pretty cool. The song totally describes how I felt and how I lived my life, especially when I was around 8-9 years old.

"As a kid, was a skid, and no one knew my name"; "Well I'm a no good nick lower middle class brat, back packed and I don't give a shit about nothing"; "I'm sick of always hearing 'Act your age' ".

I was never the same kid again…

~~~

I’ve had many events that happened to me when I was young. This song reminds me of an incident I encountered when I was 9 years old. I could remember it clearly in my head right now…

Class has ended. It was 12 o’clock. I think it was a Wednesday, or a Thursday. I couldn’t remember what day it was but I knew it was in the middle of the week. I was the last person to leave class. Having a very heavy bag pack, I walked slowly down the hall and down the stairs.

First of all, I wasn’t the most popular kid in school. I was a loner I guess. I had friends but I had no close friends, no best friends. I was made fun of almost everyday. People all around was staring at me cause I was different. I was overweight, the most overweight kid in school and no one, well almost no one wanted to talk to me.

So there I was, walking down the hall when three students confronted me. The bullies. I called them ‘The Three Dumb Mice’, well not in front of them. They’ve made fun of me every single day of school.

But on that day, it was different. I felt different. I felt like saying enough is enough.

The first guy had called me from a far. Knowing I couldn’t turn back as it was a dead end, I walked towards them. Slowly that is. With my hands in my pocket, head down, I walked. Well it was more like dragging my feet. I dragged my feet slowly towards those bullies.

The two guys then went to pull my bag down. I was ‘unarmed’, feeling like I was naked with my back exposed. The first guy then came up to me, centimeters from my face, and grabbed me by my collar with one hand and the other squeezing my cheeks.

“Hey Fat Ass! Why you so fat? Why you fat?”

I was correcting his grammar in my head. I mean even I could think of a better way to make fun of myself.

But I was accustomed to this that I didn’t even bother to call for help. I’ve always waited it out and endure the pain and humiliation. But that day, on that day I snapped.

Pushing him back, I was now in control of my physical self. He stumbled and took a few steps back, regaining his balance. The other two guys were beside him, astonished.

In my head I was like,

“Fuck this. Fuck them. I’ve had enough.”

And so I said to them, shouting to be exact,

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you dumb ass!”

I didn’t look at them when I shouted. I had my eyes closed and my hands by my side ready to be hit once more. After yelling, I slowly opened my eyes.

And they were stoned.

I pushed him again but this time he stood still. He was ready for that blow. Knowing I made a mistake, I took a quick step back but he pushed me down to the floor and stomped me like as if I was on fire. I felt the burn. I felt the worst that day, that moment.

I blacked out and regain consciousness in the sick bay. I’ve just got the beating from hell. But I liked it. It really felt weird but I knew deep inside that it was different. That one moment where I stood up for myself, I felt like I was king.

~~~

That was one of the many incidents that I could recall every time I listened to the song.

I just felt like writing...

I have a knife in my hand, I don't know what to do with it.

I HAVE A KNIFE IN MY HAND. I don't know what to do with it.

~It feels weird. Somehow, thinking of the word 'weird' itself is weird. Like the letters, when I look at them long enough, it doesn't seem to like make sense. Why isn't mom calling me for dinner? I heard her calling out my brother, but why not me? I was singing along to 'Who wrote Holden Caulfield?', "There's a boy who fogs his world and now he's getting lazy. There's no motivation and frustration's makes him crazy"~

I've got a knife in my hand but I don't know what to do with it.

~Suddenly my memory was awaken. I could see my teenage self talking to my lover. He's standing there with his half untucked shirt, messy hair and his oh so charming face. Knowing that he'll never be with us again feels like 'The end of the world", was an understatement of reality. It was a long time ago but it feels like it lasted a lifetime. I wish I could change our family. Wishing my sons would have what I couldn't achieve~

I have a knife in my hand but I don't think I know what to do with it.

~It's been a while but I feels like I should have said "I Love You". She's the best I've ever had but I'm too scared or too dumb to admit it. All I want is for her to understand that when I took her hand, it's because I wanted to~

There's a knife in my hand. I think I wanna kill.

So there I was, standing somewhere in the kitchen, hands leaning on the sink. My mind felt like it just entered my body. I had bloods stains on my shirt, so gruesome I didn't even have time to name the colour. It's so weird. I had a knife in my hand, but why? What happened? I saw memories of my mom's and my two brothers. Their most deepest thoughts were in my head. Could I read them? Could I see them? Why were they in my mind? I dropped the knife. Hearing the sound it made when it landed on the floor. Then I felt like me again. I turned and saw bodies on the floor. I couldn't identify them the moment I saw them but slowly I realised that it was my family. What did I just do? I looked at my blood stained hands. Suddenly I realised...

I have a knife in my hand but I don't what to do with it.

First Blog: My memorable childhood

I'll try my best to recall my most memorable childhood. It's so hard but here goes...

I didn't have much friends when I was young. Weight was a problem for me, and on top of that I was pretty much a very quiet boy. I didn't talked to anyone unless they talked to me. Sometimes I don't even talk to others when they approached me. I was a very shy kid, but my friends considered me as a very friendly person.

So when I was 9, I started to feel like as if the world wasn't quite what is it. It's like my whole life didn't have a purpose. I felt as if I didn't exist, I mean I did exist physically but somehow I'd wish things in this world doesn't make sense. I wish it wasn't complicated and perfect. I mean it's like what if I could blackout so things would become clearer. I'd wish people would just live their lives because they wanted to and not because they have to.

I started to see the fakeness in everyone. I started to question everything. Life, religion, people, jobs, schools, friends, bullies, teachers, girls, why girls don't talk to me, why guys don't talk to me. Why this? Why that? I started to not care about everything. It feels like this isn't me. This isn't everyone. It's just everything but true. It wasn't real.

I started to skip school a lot. I didn't join a gang or anything. That seem pointless. I just stopped caring. I went to Pasir Ris Park on almost every school day, either during or after school, on my own, an overweight 9 year old boy with not many friends, off to a place where almost no one was there to share the air that I breathe. Selfish me, but it's a place where I can just stop and think, and it seems like the world did stop for me to think. A place where I can let myself go yet it feels like I'm closer to my own self than ever. Of course it was also a good replacement for school. Somehow it's the idea of not caring that interest me. And this little devil inside of me started to get a thrill out of it. Not the thrill of skipping school, and not caring about anything or being alone, but the thrill of skipping school, not caring about anything and being alone without anyone knowing it. I just found my new favourite sport and it's called 'lying'. I couldn't help it. It felt like I'm finally taking control of my own life. I started to lie to everyone. About myself, about others and even those I didn't know and knew them only by name. This made me comfortable, in a weird way. I could talk to anyone and they would listen to me. It just became easy.

But with this new found habit, I found an obstacle. Like all those young, helpless and nerdy kids, I had a crush. A huge one actually. As huge as I was at that time. It's not that she's a perfect match or she's the perfect girl for me or any kind of thing like that, it's just a huge crush. I was scared. It's that feeling where you want to impress a girl but you're too scared and you end up embarrassing yourself instead. I was pretty young but if I could recall, she was pretty beautiful, I guess. I mean all my life I've seen many pretty girls but I never actually talked about how pretty they are, even to myself. The weird thing is that I couldn't be myself when I'm around her. I couldn't be the shy me and even the lying-little-devil me. I'm pretty sure it's just anxiety and not something like true love or anything. I was 9, I didn't know what love is. All I know is that I was nervous and anxious and also a bit nauseous when I'm around her.

I tried my best to be a gentleman when I'm around her. Let me tell you, being a young kid, my vision of a gentleman was wearing a tuxedo and having a side-parting hair. My hair was already side-parted so all I needed was a tux. I would have looked so cool in a tuxedo but that was way beyond reality. I acted like she's a goddess and treated her like royalty, or is it the other way around? I opened the door for her, collected forms or homework for her and even waited at the school gate just so I could walk within a few meters of her to class. However, all of this attempts did nothing except made me look like a desperate fool. In a childish way, I gave up.

It just came out. I really didn't expect myself to but it just did. I lied to her. I told her I could play the guitar, which I couldn't back then but I can now. I told her I liked the music she listens to, I told her I had a huge collection of Hello Kitty collectibles, which is her favourite thing on earth but I was too young to realise that guys don't usually have Hello Kitty collectibles and she didn't wondered why I had them. So basically, I lied, I lied and I lied. It really seemed like my luck was beginning to change. She started to wave at me when I waved at her, this is really something I was proud of back then. She said 'Hi!' when I said 'Hi!' to her and she even gave me a box of chocolates for my birthday. Now I'm no expert, even for my younger self, but receiving a box of chocolates does seem obvious that she likes me? I amplified that feeling by not questioning it. I was so into the whole feeling. The feeling of success. Not just success but social success. The one you have to dig up dirt to earn it but I earned it by lying.

So with that whole momentum of feeling in my head, I sort of asked her out. I didn't know what it was called when I was young but I asked her if she wanted to hang out with me, just the two of us after school to talk about stuff. In the most cheesy way, I did it through a note. She got that note and replied, "Yes!" at the back of it.

So I was waiting at the canteen for her after school. But something weird happened. Everyone whom passed me there were either laughing at me or putting up an 'L' sign on their forehead. I didn't get it at that moment. I waited, selflessly for 3 hours for her. I was too engross with this feeling that I didn't realised how fast time went by. She didn't come. I was left there, standing alone with no one to talk to, just like I naturally was a few weeks ago. The next day, she told me that the whole thing was a joke. That I was a joke. I was sucked into this world of hope and happiness and got thrown out of it. She didn't care about me, she didn't care at all. I was too dumb and too stupid to see it.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, sometimes the truth, no matter how much it sucks, is still the best thing to put your faith in. And that the truth, and even lying is not the answer. It's never the answer but the question itself. Why do we do the things we do? It's because we DO the things we do. If I had a reason for everything I do, every truth I told and every lie I so boldly withhold, then I guess I'm inhuman. It's stupid of me to look at her and see that she's more than a human, and that she's more than a person. I may lie to her but through lying, I found her true self and my true self. And I don't regret a single moment of it. It's better to regret something I've done than to regret something I haven't done.