Monday, July 27, 2009

My Blueberry Nights

It was closing time. But there she stood, outside the café, looking dazed and feeling lost. She stood there for quite a while, before she walked in again. "I need someone to talk to," she said and sat down.

"Guess I'm just looking for a reason."

"Well, from my observations, sometimes it's better off not knowing.
And other times, there's no reason to be found."

"Everything has a reason."

"It's like these pies and cakes.
At the end of every night, the cheesecake and the apple pie are always completely gone.
The peach cobbler and the chocolate mousse cake are nearly finished.
But there's always a whole blueberry pie left untouched."

"So what's wrong with the blueberry pie?"

"There's nothing wrong with the blueberry pie.
It's just, people make other choices.
You can't blame the blueberry pie.
It's just no one wants it."

They wore the night out, eating the leftover pies. Him—probably an apple pie, and her—a blueberry pie with a scoop of ice-cream.


Watch the movie.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Before Twitter...

Before Twitter...
I had a blog.
I had a life.

After Twitter...
my blog nearly died,
and so did I.

Respect My Right

I am a private person.

I am not the type who washes my dirty laundry in public. I am not the type who hangs my undergarment on the balcony for the wandering eyes of passing drivers. (Not that I live in an apartment that faces the highway.) I am just not the type who discusses family matters to anyone or anywhere as I feel family matters are private matters. Although when asked, I would share. Nonetheless, not a topic I would use to start a conversation. But anyway, that's beside the point. The point is, I am a private person.

And most of the time, I do not probe into other people's life. What "people" choose to share with me, I accept and respect. When they choose to share their joy with me, I'd be thankful. When they choose to share their tears with me, I'd be honoured. When they choose to share their laughter with me, I'd be gleeful. When they choose to share their food with me, I'd be ecstatic! Okay, let's not deviate from the main topic.

The crux of the matter is (not sure where I'm going with this, but just stay with me), I am a private person and I want my privacy to be respected.

Speaking of respect, it's hard to get one from anybody these days. "People" hardly value other people's opinion. Everyone wants to make a point. Everyone wants to be heard. Everyone wants to be RIGHT. And of course, I don't exclude myself. I believe, everyone LIKES to be RIGHT. But when you're wrong, you're just...wrong.

There lies a difference between making a point with conviction and making a point with condemnation. Confidence versus arrogance. The line is fine, but it exists, and hence, should not be crossed. With that said, we are human and hardly any of us have self-actualised to be that selfless. We are all too consumed by our own needs and too self-absorbed to care for others. The fact is, WE are too egocentric to agree to disagree.

So I ask, how can the world ever be a better place?

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


by Arthur O'Shaughnessy, 1844–1881.

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities.
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion art empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample in empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

Dead Poet

I'm bored with life.

I need new excitement.

I need new thrills.

Or perhaps, I just need a little taste of death.

After all, in the midst of death, we are in life.