Love Actually...

Of Life And Oranges

Everybody thinks their story is most tragic. I am no different.

Jeannette, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit
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I stand atop Mount Faber, looking out into the vast, dark expanse that is Singapore. I'm told that it is the highest point of the island.

It's beautiful at night. During the day, it becomes like any other Asian city. Busy and plentiful, though relatively clean.

But at night...

At night it would light up, its inhabitants asleep, resting for what tomorrow may bring them. Tonight, I bear them no grudges.

Tonight I marvel.

I look at the flickering lights in the distance, rows of little orange beans lighting up the entire island.

"There is no part of Singapore that is dark," said my friend who was also my host. "Everywhere you look there is light."

And then God said, let there be light. I can't remember which day that was supposed to be.

No matter.

I look at their life, and realise that it is only and exactly that. Their life. So much more to this world than our own. Their tears, their pain, their frustration, their anger, their love, their joy.

Their home.

It's wonderful.

I bid them a slow goodnight, letting it drift into the etherness of the never ending night.

A Plane and A Bird

Flying is a nice way to die.

For if I die.

They will never.

Ever.

Cry.

Rest in Pieces

"What is real? What is illusion? Where is the line between truth and lie? Between right and wrong? It's a cold and lonely place, Jacen Solo: the void of not knowing."

I tossed and turned, stared at the ceiling, contemplating, thinking, wondering.

Why can't I sleep? It has been a long day, my body is tired. It screams out for rest, for respite and salvation.

But my mind has other plans. And that itself doesn't plan on letting me know what it is.

So I lie there, wondering. Thinking. Endlessly thinking.

"You think too much, Fikri," said Sarah a couple of days earlier. We were munching on our respective Auntie Anne's at the time, its sweet taste slowly dissolving itself.

Maybe she's right.

"How did you know I'd come home?"

"It is an instinct of all pack animals: the mortally wounded crawl back to their own dens to die."

"Wounded?"

"With the greatest wound a Jedi can suffer: freedom."

I went for a drive. I took out the Kia Carnival some time around 2:30am, and drove aimlessly. Lazily, even. Jamie Cullum's voice was filling the air. What a difference a day makes.

What a difference indeed.

I had no idea where I was going, but then again, I don't have to have one. It's not where I'm going that's important.

It's where I'm coming from. I just need to get away.

I'll never know where I'm going. I can plan, I can dream, but ultimately I'll never know.

But knowing that is not important. Getting right or wrong isn't the issue.

I just need to get there.

"When you always know what is right, where is freedom? No one chooses the wrong, Jacen Solo. Uncertainty sets you free."

I'm home from the drive. I ended up driving all the way around my neighbourhood, before venturing out to Ampang and Cheras, and getting quite close to Bukit Jalil, via the MRR2 highway.

The Carnival is parked inside the gates, safely stored for another day. I put on 'Shrek 2' and laughed all by myself.

He shrugged listlessly. Life, death - all was one. One with the Force. He said, "The Force doesn't care."

"Don't you care?"

"What I care doesn't matter either."

Corners of her mouth tricked up and down. "Does it matter to you?"

I got into bed, and lied there, letting all the things run through my head. The past day, the past month, the past year. I had called a friend earlier, and we had chatted for about 10 minutes. She always had a problem sleeping. I wonder if this is what she feels every night.

"Welcome to my world," she chuckled.

I blanketed myself.

After a long, long silence, he sighed. "Yes. Yes, it does."


*Excerpts taken from 'Star Wars: Traitor' by Matthew Stover

The Running Man

There was a point of time, when I would wake up early in the morning. Slightly before 6, I would clamber out of bed, suit up, and jog off.

I would go on doing this even I don't feel like it. Many are the mornings when the alarm clock would slap me into lame conciousness, faithfully ringing my bells. Back then, the alarm is a Bart Simpson product, which would hail me with its "Yo dude, wake up and get out of bed!"

And by reflex, I would press the snooze button, and turn over to nuzzle even deeper into my duvet.

"Yo dude, wake up and get out of bed!"

"Yo dude, wake up and get out of bed!"

Five minutes later, I would be out of the house, jogging. And walking. Then, inconceivable only ten minutes earlier, I would run.

That short burst of energy would leave me a spent force in no time. But still I do it.

I would soar spiritually as I was being continually drained. The more I run, the harder and faster I do so, the happier I become. A huge burden would unlift, itself out of breath.

Left behind.

That's why I love it.

I felt like I was running away from my problems.

Nowadays, I don't do much running. In fact, I don't do any. Time is of the essence. The debate club, COSTA, my assignments, my videos and my family are all taking on an increasingly high place in the list of priorities.

I'd bite off more than I could possibly chew, drowning myself in mountains of work. But I'd go on struggling, fighting, trying. I'd drain myself.

But that's OK.

In a sense, it feels as if I'm still running.

Hope Resurrected

* See Hope Springs Eternal and Hopeless?

Live Strong

I believed in belief for its own shining sake. To believe in the face of utter hopelessness, every article of evidence to the contrary, to ignore apparent catastrophe – what other choice was there? We do it everyday, I realized. We are so much stronger than we imagine, and belief is one of the most valiant and long-lived human characteristics. To believe, when all along we humans know that nothing can cure the briefness of this life, that there is no remedy for our basic mortality, that is a form of bravery.

So, I believed.

Lance Armstrong - Cancer survivor and 6-times Tour de France champion