As a teenager, I used to love writing poetry. I didn't write alot though. Usually they were very depressingly serious ones about the angst that I was feeling at some point or other. Or they would be dumb little limericks I cooked up to bug someone. Well, mostly they were of the latter...
So last year, I was chatting with a friend online; and I can't quite remember how the conversation ended up in that direction but bascially she challenged me to compose a poem for her on the spot. Being the brat that I was (or am) I took up the challenge with the intention of writing one of my famed limericks for some laughs. However, inspiration would lead me down another path that suprised even myself. Here is that work which I thankfully saved (and therefore retained!). I hope you all enjoy it.
I Saw A Rainbow In The Sky
by August
I saw a rainbow in the sky
as I was in the park today.
It framed the clouds, way up high,
as I viewed it where I lay.
And all around were others
too consumed in the here and now
that they couldn't see the colors
stretched across the heav'nly bough.
My heart was lifted by its sight -
a quietly surprisingly find.
And despite the ebbing light
it held fast like a magic line.
I saw a rainbow in the sky
as I was in the park today.
It faded when the day did die
but in my mind will always stay.
~ Friday, March 12 2004
The article that I contributed to my church bulletin this week was innocuously (and uninventively) entitled 'The Best Is Yet To Be'. Coming up with snazzy titles is always one of the more brain-racking aspects of writing for me. A good title has to effectively convey the essence of its contents in a witty fashion with high hip factor, preferably under 5 words, and be completely original to score readibility points, because who wants to read boring articles prefaced by equally boring headings (e.g. How To Create Your Own Shitake Mushroom Farm in the Privacy and Dampness of your Own Room).
Anyway, this fine morning, after the choir rehearsal, a visibly enraged individual sprang up to me, his knuckles white with clenched fury. Apparently he had read my article.
"You stole the motto of my school for your article title!", he spat in a low breathless hiss while staring poison-tipped daggers by the thousands at me. The fact that I was in the sanctuary with witnesses probably saved me from being mercilessly mauled to a grisly heap.
Ok so maybe he didn't actually read my article, I mean, I didn't think it was appropriate then to query, but the title sure caught his eye. And I was mildly disappointed that his school couldn't come up with a more innovative motto (what with all the time and meetings educators spend on adminstrative red tape). Of course, while I couldn't do any better myself I did have to spend some brain cell-burning moments vascillating between using 'be' or 'come' for the title. After much hemming and hawing, 'be' won out because I thought it added a certain fluidity the other choice lacked. So "The Best Is Yet To Be" it was.
Guess I should have gone with option B and made everyone choke on their words.
Yes this is a really common adage and I was reluctant to use it intially. But at the same time, I realized it wouldn't be fair to discredit it just because it's used by peppy sales and marketing people the world over to pump themselves up for a day of aggressive telemarketing. The fact is, I think this statement contains a great deal of overlooked truth and is something that we should all remind ourselves of every so often in life.
If you see yourself as having reached your ideal place in life today, then you would probably be still at that same 'ideal' place this time next year. And the next, and so on till the day you pass on, or wake up with the awful feeling you get when you realized you've just discarded something irreplaceably valuable like premire tickets to 'Titanic III: The Return of Jack'.
People often say that life is a learning continuum. I'd like to add that it should be a conscious learning continuum. We have to actively choose what to assimilate or build up in life so that our future will continue to bring forth dynamically new and positive experiences.
Here in Singapore, we spend all our youth and early adulthood getting force-fed chock full of academic 'goodness' so much so that many of us can't wait to finally end the horror by entering the workforce by age 12. Of course that doesn't pan out and we are shackled to the MOE till no self-respecting institution will take us in anymore. Then we stop. Phew.
The problem is - some stop 'school' for the rest of their lives. They become content with just cruising along in their established routines and lose the ability to imagine how expansive and varied the world out there is.
We have to keep looking ahead and seeing what we have to offer ourselves in the days to come. Once we believe we are done with learning and growing, well, I see that sad moment as when the play-and-rewind cycle of life begins. It's like the snippets of action movies screened at Courts to showcase their widescreen TVs. No matter how exciting the segment is, there's only so many times you can to watch it without developing a psychotic urge to blind yourself.
Mundane? You bet. Dreary? I don't think you need to try it out to tell.
So is the best yet to be? Well I hope that's true for you. As for me, I hope I never lose my love of investing a liquid afternoon with my head in the clouds, fantasizing about the endless exciting possibilities of a glorious tomorrow. Of course, I'd have to get off my lazy butt sometime and actually make one or two of them come to pass, so, yeah, I'll start now.
Or not. Erm, tomorrow morning, ok? Really!
I'm finding it great fun to compose a collection of B&W images about a particular theme or place. The previous two from my home and the office kind of spearheaded this new development as I grow more comfortable penning my thoughts. Now I can also share my literal view of the world around me through my little camera. Thus I proudly announce the official launch of the Thematic Montage Series!!
*rapturous applause and globe-stopping mass hysteria lasting exactly 26.3mins*
Thank you, thank you very much! Today we shall enjoy the intricate details of a good friend who will be sold soon. *sniff* Good-bye and here's to you!
Montage 3: 
I was busy looking busy today when the phone on my desk pealed urgently. I scrambled to answer it and here's what transpired (well, more or less):
Me: Good afternoon!
Mysterious Stranger: Good afternoon!
Me: Yes?
Mysterious Stranger: Yes?
Me: Who is this?
Simon: Who is this?
Me: Oh, how are you doing?
Irritating Simon: Oh, how are you doing?
Me: Aiyah, what do you want?
Even more irritating Simon: Aiyah, what do you want?
Me: I'm busy la.
Super irritating Simon: You busy? Doing what?
Me: Why didn't you reply to my sms?
Surprised Simon: What sms?
Irritated me: The one I sent on, erm, Monday I think.
Totally perplexed Simon: Huh?
Even more irritated me: So anyway, what's up?
Person who is actually not Simon: I was wondering about this week's blah, blah, blah...
Red-faced-but-played-it-smooth me: Well, you see, it's like this blah, blah blah....
Dinesh: Ok then, see you tomorrow.
Relieved me: Ok, bye.
None-the-wiser Dinesh: Bye.
Click.
My dad has an old friend who manages a used piano store. I always feel a little sad when I'm there. I can't quite say exactly what makes me feel that way. Perhaps seeing row after row of broken-hearted pianos crying for human touch reminds me of my own lonely piano.
Usually I wander among them, playing a few notes as I pass, listening to their different tonal colors. I wonder how many were abandoned by children whose parents had forced them to begin piano lessons. I wonder how many had ever enjoyed the touch of a master pianist able to gently coax from it the sound it was designed to produce. I was told that some of the more expensive pianos were imported as decorative pieces - polished trophies reflecting the owner's wealth. Over time, the lack of proper use and maintenance causes these pianos to lose their initial beauty of sound. Then they simply get discarded.
My dad tells me that after these good pianos come into the store, if they can be repaired, they usually get sold rather quickly. At least there's still a tiny market for good quality pianos.
Yesterday, I came across this beautiful old French grand piano. It had intricate carvings accentuating its lines and curves. If pianos could be aristocratic, well, this would be it. I thought about how the craftsmen who had worked to create this piano might have stood back to admire their own handiwork. They might have hoped that it would be well-appreciated and would bring much aural and visual pleasure to music lovers. Now it was just another unwanted piano.
How many of us have squandered opportunities to learn something new and different in the course of our regular routine? These pianos are like the skills and experiences we eagerly embrace but don't keep up with in our lives: 2 years of music lessons, 6 months of art classes, 1 semester of language class, 4 weeks of roller-blading instruction, 2 weeks of self-help home courses, 1 week of a healthy diet, 3 days of spiritual-formation workshops... the list is a near-endless collection of the forgone and ignored.
Maybe it's not sadness I feel, but shame at the time I've wilfully thrown away on useless pursuits. 
There was a small bust of Beethovan painted a garish red sitting by a pillar at the store. How appropriate, I thought. For Beethovan would most certainly have gone insanely furious at the sight of these pianos falling into disuse. To someone like him, for whom music comprises body and soul, there might be no greater insult to see such disregard of a musical instrument; especially when he himself no longer was able to hear.
Let's not wait around for regret to fill our days, shall we?
Hurtling along the ECP in a speeding MPV of doom. Sweet! 
"I should just go right back to sleep and ignore all calls till noon", was my first evil thought of the day when my eyes flickered open to the pervasive morning darkness, "but they'll never let me forget it for the rest of my life."
And that's what propelled me out of bed today. A group of us had planned to take a morning hike on the HSBC treetop trail at MacRitchie Reservoir today, which happens to be National Day. After a cheery breakfast at Pasir Ris, we sardined ourselves into the back of a lorry and away we were whisked.
The morning air felt refreshingly invigorating and the trip there was laced with peppy talk. We arrived with unintentionally creative hair styles and began with much gusto at around 8:00am. The lush canopy of towering trees created comfortingly cool avenues of sandy trails eked out by countless determined footsteps.
The group soon fragmented into pockets as the gung-ho types forged ahead. Initially, I was in the elite group but was soon abandoned because of my refusal (read: inability) to run. I found myself trudging alone for a while and following the low-lying signage designed for fairies, gnomes and people of similar builds, I eventually made it to the meeting point without getting embarassingly lost. When the rest arrived in varying degrees of exhausted regret, we found some time admist the groanings and moanings to capture this bedraggled moment for posterity.
The view from the suspension bridge (hence the treetop reference) was supposed to be the breathtaking 'reward' for waking up needlessly early on a national holiday, and also from all the even more needless effort of dislocating our knee caps and hips joints permanently to get there. Admittedly though, it was a moderately fun experience to traverse the length of the bridge and feel it sway gently in the wind (or it could have just been some brats pretending to be macho). However, it felt more akin to walking from tree to tree as opposed to being on top of them.
Fortunately, the sky was a delightlful clear baby blue and we were able to take in the majestic and rare sights of HDB estate flats looming in the distance beyond the rustling greenary. The first time I was at the exact same spot last year I spied a hawk soaring languidly above. Today, there was no such luck. It probably had had enough of gawking crowds pointing rudely at it and crassly shouting, "Eagle! Eagle!".
The end of the suspension bridge (ordeal for some) signaled the start of a long journey back. Strolling families and couples were out in full force along the narrow paths and trails so maintaining a steady pace was a much-needed exercise in patience and body-contorting weaving technique. You'd think years of intensive training in our local shopping malls would have been sufficient. For self-amusement, I kept imagining myself shoving screaming people off the trails into the bramble, festering swamp or human-sized Venus Fly Traps.
When we finally emerged from the ankle-twisting trails to nice normal paved paths for nice normal people at the edge of the Singapore Island Country Club golf course, yet another hurdle presented itself in the form of deadly golf balls traveling near light speed. Hopefully no one has died from getting assasinated by a stray golf ball (or I'm sure it would make a newsworthy article in the 'Wan Bao' complete with unnecessarily gruesome pictures).
Good thing none of us will make the front page of the 'Wan Bao' tonight! We all gathered safely at a grungy little hill-top cafe overlooking the reservoir around noon for some rest and drinks, and to trade horror stories of the experience; and not a moment too soon, for a passing shower provided some timely relief from the mounting heat.
When the rain subsided, we made our way to the parking lots and clambered onto the back of the lorry, a little gingerly this time, before heading to Long House Food Center along Bukit Timah for their alleged famous fare. I wasn't feeling very hungry, most probably due to the fact that I was feeling grimier than a hygiene-oblivious coal-miner on double duty. By a stroke of excellent timing, after sitting down, the large misting fans perched precariously on the ceilings were turned on to cool the voracious diners (not just us, but everyone in there). And by some horrendously lousy luck, the one I sat closest to was the only one not working in Singapore. Oh well, the rest of the motely crew tucked in heartily (and, to me, inexplicably) to sinful delights such as prawn noodles, extra large plates of moist chicken rice and triple helpings of goreng pisang. I just had a slice of their famous papaya since I was apparently the only one who didn't want the morning's 'work-out' to go to waste! Well, at least until dinner time, maybe...
Good morning, everyone! 'Tis the day before our nation's 40th birthday, and here I am in the office. I'm not supposed to be here, but it's a colleague's birthday today so I agreed to swap off days with him (not that I usually do anything of real significance on my days off anyway). Well, here are more random shots of breathtaking 'artistry', this time from around the office.
It's hard work thinking up subjects to snap when one finally has their long-awaited (ok, so not that long) dream digital cam in their possession!
I'm not very proficient with using it yet so most of the shots I've taken are sadly only fit for my horrified eyes and the Recycle Bin. Guess I need to read up a bit more to unravel the mystery of what the settings on the camera's LCD screen actually mean and do. The manual is, unsurprisingly, no help at all; which is probably why they printed 'Basic Reference' on it, I suppose - it only tells you what the buttons on the camera represent.
Ok, that means I need to do some research on photography terms and techniques. Sigh, why wasn't I born with that knowledge like the rest of the populace? In the meantime, here are some devastatingly 'artistic' shots of random objects around the house and a very unamused pet (for you jokers out there that refers to the cat, not the fabric frog)...
Try to contain your raging jealousy, people - but it's ok, I won't hold it against you if you can't.
I am now the proud owner of the slimmest digital camera known to mankind! Those of you who have read about my quest for this elusive camera will be aware of my steely determination to scour the universe over and over till I got my grubby hands on it. And guess what, I didn't even need to leave town. A kind gentleman, who must have picked up on my obvious desperation in the many pleading posts that I've left in various tech forums, contacted me today with an offer I couldn't believe nor refuse: a used limited-edition white Casio Exilim S100 - the precise tool that I've been needing to bring this showcase of my warped and somewhat meaningless ramblings to the next pathetic level! I wrangled, I mean, negotiated a good price with him and met him less than an hour ago where I finally was able to add this gem to my small but deadly arsenal of things to collect dust with (btw dust bunnies are fun and easy to own; they are pretty much self-sustaining)!
Seriously though, with this sleek beauty in my pocket, watch out, y'all! But first, I have to learn to use it... now if you'll excuse me, let me try to find the "ON" button.