Quote of the Day

[Transformation] is not the willful attempt to change who and what we are, but the art of becoming who we are.

- Jeffrey Maitland

Story | Ephemeral

I miss you a lot.

However I have to pretend I do not care, and preoccupied myself with other things.

I miss you calling me sweetie and honey.

I miss your frequent online and offline instant messages.

I miss your sexy texts and emails.

It is okay.

Tomorrow will be another day, and I will be good.

2010/04/19

End of Envy, Realization, and Cherish

I've been always envy of what others did or experienced, without noticing the great things I got my hands on or had experienced that people are fond of...

I went to see my friend's recital recently. I never saw her as a pianist; she was my good buddy since early in high school. You know, skipping classes together, going out for bubble tea, chatting until 3am and stuff. At her performance, I was simply shocked. She looked very professional in her beautiful dark navy blue dress, and played many pieces of wonderful music which I couldn't describe nor comment as I'm not familiar with music scores and I was totally sunken into the passionate melodies. But definitely I was surprised by the pianist aspect of her. During her play, with all those powerful notes sipping through my mind, I couldn't stop wondering my current unsuccessful status. I am just a soon-to-be-graduated architecture student, with no wish of working in the architecture field. Even though I have been dipping lightly into graphic arts and photography, I would not say I can take them too seriously and make a living out of them. I should feel bad with my empty accomplishments.

Yet, my friend's younger sister reminded me of something. I was chatting with her during intermission, and she did not recognize me. However as soon as I mentioned my name, she immediately knew I was the one who was working in Shanghai. Wow, even my friend's sibling remembered me for having an internship aboard. Suddenly I felt special, well sort of.

I guess people never realized the stuff they did or things they experienced in their own lives can be extraordinary to others. We always wanted what we don't get. But as soon as you have it, the exoticness evaporates. They will just become part of daily life. The ordinary.

Story | Fruit Stand

Standing here in one of the intersactions at Kensington Market, I realized how you had grown up. I felt like I can relate and understand you slighlty little better... The places that you explored as a teenager. The alleys that you trailed through. Those poles where you parked, and locked your bike before grabbing a fruit from the senior vendor with loose grey hair.

Well, nothing matters anymore. My ashes are spread through the suburban land, forming identical cookies across the expressways.


2010/04/16

Story | Headbands and Jackets

Tonight I saw a pair of couple at Forever XXI. No, it's not my favourite store, but they do occasionally have some goodies I enjoyed. Like the thin brown belt with gold-coloured studs that I bought just now. I mean, thin strips on waists are not really my style, but that pair of pants that had small belt loops needs a new buddy.

I was trying on big satin bows, ribbon knotted, Lady Gaga inspired headbands in front of the mirrors on the art-deco-ish columns. Playing around with stuff that are usually not part of my daily life was delightful. Also my good friend who tried to have devil horns with a wired ribbon bow headband and snapping pictures of each other - it was fun to act like little girls who got super fascinated by their mother or elder sister's closet, no? Also that white silky ribbon bow matched with my fauxhawk hair and brown jacket surprisingly.

* * *

The taller girl was a femme, even though I only saw her back. She had shoulder length brown-dyed course Asian hair, wearing a not too thick headband that was peaking out of her lushy fold of bangs. A medium-sized Louis Vuitton backpack was on her back, lying on top of a red cardigan. The rest, I don't know; they would remained in mystery. The shorter girl was about five inches shorter than the femme. She was kinda boyish. Not exactly, but by instinct I knew she was the more dominate one. A roughly fitted jacket, with tight light turquoise blue suede kinny pants that showed every muscle and lump and scar on her plumpy legs were what my eyes noticed. I grasped the short black but permed curly hair too. The two were browsing then playing around with the wife-beater tank tops in pastel and neon colours on the display tables.

* * *

That couple had reminded me of, umm, something. They resembled the shape and dynamic that I had always wondered about...


2010/04/16