Tuesday, November 23, 2010

From Granddaughter to Grandfather

From a granddaughter to her grandfather.

Grandpa was tall.

And big.

He never looked like a typical old man.

I've always had trouble remembering his age.

Because he looked younger than his real age.

He was 89.

When Grandpa walked,

He walked with a certain vigour that most men his age could not match.

He was strong.

He had balding white-grey hair,

A cheeky look in his eyes.

And a cheeky grin to go with it.

Back in my childhood,

Grandpa was like a giant.

Because to me he was always this big strong figure.

In my innocence,

I thought he was stronger than my dad.

And maybe he was, at the time.

I remember back then, I'd always bounce on his knee.

He'd carry me around,

And he'd tell me how small and light I was.

He did this until I turned 8,

By then I was told to be too old to be carried around like a baby.

However I'd still beg for it sometimes,

And he'd indulge me despite my age, and how heavy I'd gotten.

He was a little over 60 at the time.

That's how strong my grandpa was.

During the course of his illness,

Grandpa shrunk.

On his last birthday,

He was so small and frail, I nearly couldn't recognise him.

It was like he would break at the slightest touch.

Then it came.

It was raining heavily that day.

I was getting ready for a reunion with my primary school classmates,

When we got a call from my aunts.

My grandfather had lost his life to colon cancer.

I remember crying a lot.

I remember going to his funeral.

Although I saw him in his coffin,

I half expected him to spring back to life,

Demanding to be let out of that confounded box.

He never did.

When they sent him to be cremated,

I wanted them to stop.

I was afraid he'd be afraid of the fire.

I had delusions of him screaming for help in the heat of the furnace.

I nearly cried for them to stop.

Then a sudden realisation hit me,

Grandpa was dead.

The flames may burn as hot as they can,

The body in the coffin can't feel a thing,

It didn't move, much less scream.

He's not coming back.

I guess it took a while for me to realise that.

Or rather, to accept it.

Because out of all my grandparents, he was the closest to me.

He left the biggest impact on my life.

I remember when he first got news that I was enlisted for National Service,

He insisted to come to KL to see me (grandpa lived in Penang).

My tenderest moment with him,

Was when he showed me his violin.

It was his most precious thing,

And I felt honored that he showed it to me.

Grandpa was always this person that I loved to please.

It's like, when I see him happy or proud or showing any sign of emotion to me,

It gave me great joy.

Grandpa was never really an intense person.

It's probably because he's a typical China man.

They don't really show emotions.

If I said "I love you" to him,

He'd say "Thank you."

There would be no "I love you, too."

After the funeral,

I dreamed of him.

My whole family did,

But I think I saw him the most.

Around, 4 times, then it stopped.

The rest of my family only saw him once, I think.

Some were happy dreams,

Some were painful.

I'm no Buddhist.

In fact, I'm Christian.

But I'd give anything to see him in my dreams again.

I've never really gotten over the loss.

I don't think I ever will.

In fact, as I type this I can feel the tears formulating in my eyes.

But you know what they say about the ones you love?

That they never really do leave as long as you keep them in your heart?

It's true.

Because I find that whenever I miss him,

I think back on the memories I shared with him,

I think of how he would react to different situations,

His face,

His expressions,

His gestures,

And he lives again.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Love is



Whenever he walks into the room,

Your heart skips a beat,

Butterflies have a grand party in your stomach,

And all of a sudden,

The world is a more beautiful place.

Your mood lifts a whole lot,

And your smile grows wider.

You'd be so unable to tear your eyes away from him,

Because it's like he's the only person in the room that matters.

But you take caution as you stare.

Should he turn to you,

You turn away, bashful.

Fearing he might think of you as crazy.

You'd forgive him no matter what shit he's put you through,

Because he's all you want.

Every hour spent with him goes by too fast,

And every second without,

Is far too slow.

His very embrace,

Makes you feel so safe.

As though all of your troubles, pain and sorrow,

Melt away the instant he holds you.

And you could just lie there for.... Well, ever.

'Cos it's your favourite place in the universe.

His kiss sends tingles up your spine,

And it feels so heavenly,

That you'd yearn for more.

You'd want to know everything about him,

To understand him.

And in knowing everything,

Even his uglies,

You'd still want to be with him, more than anyone else.

All the more,

You'd want to be there for him.

'Cos, well, it's him.

You'd have no reason for it, really.

The little things he does for you,

Even if it's as meager as... Opening a door for you,

Turn your legs to jelly.

It's what makes you trust yourself,

To want to break down those strong walls you've built to protect your heart,

And let him in.

Because, you'd trust him no matter what.

Because you'd want him to know you, too.

Losing him,

Would be unthinkable.

It'd be like losing a part of your soul.

And that would be your greatest fear.

You'd risk everything you have,

Even your life,

For him, as long as he's happy.

You'd give it your all.

You don't need to be with him,

Because as long as he's happy,

Even if it's with another girl,

You'll be happy.

Because that means putting one person's happiness before yours,

Not many people can do that.

That, to me,

is Love in its purest, truest form.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

Help


I think I'm crazy.

I get curious way too easily,

Then I irritate the hell out of people by asking too many questions.

I love the idea of walking around in costumes,

Just because I can.

Like on Halloween,

I loved parading around in hugely thick eyeliner,

Just for the heck of it.

If I had a witch/zombie/(insert mythical character here) costume, I would've worn it too.

(For Foreign readers: We don't celebrate Halloween in Malaysia)

Last Thursday, I wrapped my scarf around my head like a Muslim (though I ended up looking like a farmer),

Cos I thought it was fun.

I like outlandish dressing,

Cos I think it's cool.

I like being different from people,

Because I think being the same is boring.

And I have this theory that we are all turning into robots because we all want to look the same/act the same/conform to something.

IT'S TRUE!

Case in point: Is it just me, or do all Korean girls look the same? (hint: Plastic surgery)

I like doing stupid things like dancing in the rain,

Cos I think that's the way to live.

I turned down a RM500 job offer,

Cos I hated the job, and I believe that I'm worth more than that.

Therein leaving the security of being employed.

I took up a 2nd internship that pays RM300,

Cos I love the job,

And I admire the boss.

I'm still not securely employed, by the way.

But I am damn happy and proud of myself, cos I love the work.

I am actually anticipating my first day at work.

I have these crazy ideas that I still wish would come true.

For example, I still harbor a secret wish to go into the television and enter TV world and live there.

I believe that unicorns exist. They're just hiding.... Somewhere.

I think that actual Wizards do live among us, and they study at Hogwarts.

I believe that failing is good, cos that's the best way to learn.

I also believe that I have the ability to change the world.

Make people think differently,

Inspire them.

And make the world a better place.

I'm one of those screw balls who believe that they are somebodies,

Those loonies who think that sticking out like a sore thumb is cool,

Cos it's what makes us different.

Yes, I'm crazy.

But do I care?

No, not really.

And I don't think I should, either.

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Nicholas

I pity the guy.

First off, he's fat.

So fat, in fact, I fear he may die of obesity.

What with all the milk and cookies the children give him...

He's probably at a huge risk of heart disease and diabetes.

His time may soon come.

He's always having to keep track of who's naughty and nice.

Imagine, there are a bajillion children around the world.

Parents have so much trouble in keeping track of one.

But this guy?

He da man.

He's like a bajillion years old, and he still remembers the kids!

I bet he stalks them.

But seriously, how the hell does one person take care of a bajillion kids?

I think it's his elves.

I think they do the dirty work for him.

They probably wear invisibility suits.

And they go around stalking children.

They probably follow them everywhere.

Even to the toilet.

They probably write down every single deed they do.

Damn these guys are good.

But poor Nick has to process who's naughty and nice.

I bet the Missus complains.

I bet he's so busy he neglects her sometimes.

Like at night, when she wants to "get it on" with him,

His response would probably be:

"No dear, not tonight, I'm too tired."

When most husbands go "Yeah baby!"

So the poor guy probably doesn't have a thriving sex life either.

And who pays him anyway?

I mean, GIVING toys to people?

That can't be cheap.

And how can he pay those elves?

And kids these days, they don't want dolls and toy cars anymore.

They want iPhones, iPads, iPods, Wii, Xbox and all.

So I'm pretty sure the guy has to pay double for whatever presents he gives.

Man it sure is hard.

And all he gets is a fancy schmancy "Saint" in front of his name.

Just to make it more glamourous.

And as December approaches,

I bet he has more sleepless nights.

On the 24th, the poor old guy has to lug a huge sack (it's a wonder how his back doesn't break. Maybe it has, but that would've been catastrophic),

Drive reindeer and fly all over the world.

Go to every single house (do you even know how many there are?),

And stuff himself down chimneys.

As if it isn't enough that the guy is obese.

And before stuffing himself down the damned things,

He has to make sure that they aren't lighted.

Just in case his butt gets burned.

Plus, he's done this for hundreds of years!

It's a wonder that it hasn't driven him bonkers.

No wonder he laughs funnily.

I mean who laughs with a "Hohoho!"?

Poor guy.

I think we should have a "St. Nicholas Appreciation Day".

At the very least we'd commemorate his services,

Instead of leaving milk and cookies.

Heck, it's healthier!

Poor poor Nick.

(Disclaimer: Inspired by Neil Gaiman's Nicholas)

Monday, November 01, 2010

For the Broken Hearted

A telling of a broken heart, from a girl's perspective.
Or at least, how I see it.


When a girl's heart is broken,

There is a sort of pain.

You can't really express it.

You feel this great throbbing in your chest,

Your head starts to throb in pain as well.

Your tears come, for a while.

Sometimes it doesn't stop,

Sometimes they come in a few droplets.

Sometimes, you scream.

Because the pain is just much too great.

You can't talk,

Because sometimes words fail.

You sleep more,

Because you just don't want to feel the hurt.

Because you want an escape from reality.

So you no longer feel.

You wish for someone to hold you,

Because you just feel so alone.

It's like no one wants you.

It's like you aren't worth holding on to.

And you want someone to hold on to,

So you'd feel wanted, after all.

But when someone does hold you,

You'd still feel empty inside.

Because the one you want to hold you most,

Will never hold you again.

It's like the world has ended,

Because your love cannot be mended.

And when people tell you to move on,

That the past is in the past,

You just feel even more pressured.

Because although what they say is true,

How the hell can you be expected to forget someone who was once your entire world?

It's not easy.

When people call you desperate,

Saying there are tons of fishes in the sea,

You think,

Goddammit, I'm not stupid.

I know that very well!

It's just this one guy you want.

Why is he so special?

The answer to that, is in fact, simple.

You love him.

And what's so wrong with that?

Then you find that the tears no longer come.

And you no longer want to scream.

Because the hurt you felt a while ago, it's all numbed.

But it's still there.

In passing weeks you try,

To distract yourself,

To stop thinking about that jerk.

Because you need to stop hurting.

You hate feeling hurt.

So you want to feel happy.

You avoid everything that reminds you of him,

Because then you'd think of him.

Big no-no.

You guard your heart with steel and armor.

To make sure it doesn't hurt again.

But isn't it funny?

Because some of the time,

The creep drifts back into your mind.

Messes up your emotions,

Make you hurt even more.

Then you start missing him,

Something you absolutely hate.

But you can't help it.

Cos you just can't let go.

Now it's up to the next guy,

To distract you from the jerk,

Make you pay attention to him instead.

See if he can mend this broken heart at all.

But does it need to wait for the next guy?

Can't we just let go by ourselves?

I believe we can.

Girls, we've been doing it all wrong.

Instead of distracting ourselves, we should've let it all out.

Taken all the time we needed to let our anger, hurt and pain go.

It's okay to hurt and be angry.

It's even okay to love someone who used to love you.

And I know it hurts.

But tell me, what's wrong with having a little bit of love in our lives?

As much as it hurts, it's not wrong, is it?

Didn't you feel much better after crying over something hurtful?

Didn't you feel much better after screaming at your annoying brother who spilled Milo all over your assignment?

Well, apply that to your heartache.

Vent it, go all out.

See if you feel better after that.

Author's Note: Damn son, why do my ideas always come in the middle of the night? -.-

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