Very sick of blogspot and its highly difficult to alter html.
Just switched to Wordpress.
Please visit the new site. Thank you for your past support.
Kindly update your bookmarks.
Goodbye blogspot.
Hello new world!
http://thomaschua.wordpress.com
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Wake up 2008 and ask her why
Having disappeared from the face of the world for two months, I find myself sitting at my table, consolidating thoughts, the figments to go into this entry. This assemblage is highly immense, given much has happened- Christmas, New Year and jetting to Shanghai.
There is beauty in everything before our eyes. Sometimes all things around us point towards and focuses your attention on something so magnificently grand and imposing - that may be beauty. Yet the most beautiful things in life exist everywhere, in every nook and cranny of all buildings, in the lives of ordinary people like you and me - an elderly couple walking down the sunset beach hand-in-hand or a child with teary eyes of hope and faith. The most beautiful glimpse of the Singapore sky I have ever caught was a gradient of violet, pink, blue- which I ever took for granted.
My trip to Shanghai was eventful but dreary. A week away for a homesick singaporean boy is clearly evident where the temperature was negative one degrees celsius, I wrapped myself up into a mummified turkey. Never will i complain of Singapore's heat again(or in the next one month or so). In Shanghai, my colleague Esther and I had our fair share of eating, shopping, walking, sightseeing and probably the most enjoyable activity of all - seeing snow. There are so much to share but allow the pictures to do all the narrating. (please adjourn to "my porn pictures" on the right)
Leaving 2007 for 2008 was a refreshing change - which much promises to making many firsts. That in retrospect, Shanghai made it. Life is beautiful only because you live once, for if you could repeat every experience ad infinitum you lose the most precious inherent value of existence - das schwerste gewicht, nietzche.
Singapore:
Just over five months ago, I went cycling and then sipping my love- frappucino at MacCafe, for free (And until this day, why my drink was free still eludes me). Since then, I am afraid coffee houses have ceased to make frappucinos. My friend thinks that it is only a summer-drink. So at the cafe, I looked beyond the edge of my cup and watched the people around me: going about their lives as if nobody cared. Maybe they’re right. Each of them sitting by themselves either with iPods plugged into their ears, or a laptop or a novel in their hands or building sandcastles. In an almost unexplainable way, I find this alienation remote but comfortable.
Let me capture this moment; Then I am going home.
There is beauty in everything before our eyes. Sometimes all things around us point towards and focuses your attention on something so magnificently grand and imposing - that may be beauty. Yet the most beautiful things in life exist everywhere, in every nook and cranny of all buildings, in the lives of ordinary people like you and me - an elderly couple walking down the sunset beach hand-in-hand or a child with teary eyes of hope and faith. The most beautiful glimpse of the Singapore sky I have ever caught was a gradient of violet, pink, blue- which I ever took for granted.
My trip to Shanghai was eventful but dreary. A week away for a homesick singaporean boy is clearly evident where the temperature was negative one degrees celsius, I wrapped myself up into a mummified turkey. Never will i complain of Singapore's heat again(or in the next one month or so). In Shanghai, my colleague Esther and I had our fair share of eating, shopping, walking, sightseeing and probably the most enjoyable activity of all - seeing snow. There are so much to share but allow the pictures to do all the narrating. (please adjourn to "my porn pictures" on the right)
Leaving 2007 for 2008 was a refreshing change - which much promises to making many firsts. That in retrospect, Shanghai made it. Life is beautiful only because you live once, for if you could repeat every experience ad infinitum you lose the most precious inherent value of existence - das schwerste gewicht, nietzche.
Singapore:
Just over five months ago, I went cycling and then sipping my love- frappucino at MacCafe, for free (And until this day, why my drink was free still eludes me). Since then, I am afraid coffee houses have ceased to make frappucinos. My friend thinks that it is only a summer-drink. So at the cafe, I looked beyond the edge of my cup and watched the people around me: going about their lives as if nobody cared. Maybe they’re right. Each of them sitting by themselves either with iPods plugged into their ears, or a laptop or a novel in their hands or building sandcastles. In an almost unexplainable way, I find this alienation remote but comfortable.
Let me capture this moment; Then I am going home.
Monday, November 05, 2007
The still frames in your mind
After zipping through for what seems to be the pensive period of my life, I am not ashamed to say that so far, I have done far
more serious thoughts than any time that I can recall.
In the past four weeks, I have restrung and played new pieces on my violin, been out with someone special to places and penning the admission statement for MBA- in fact, the past week was one of the most productive in recent memory. To be fair, I have had my fair share of hours at work, but nowhere near as much as I had expected to / am capable of putting in. After 15 years of rigorous structured education, I think I have outlived my time as a student. The truth is painfully obvious - I cannot wait to start living life the way I have always wanted to. Already I am responsible for most of my life. I know that everyone says how the best time of your life is when you are a student, but surely I have had enough of this "best time" and want more. With my hands now, I want to make a difference, to make more impact and make education work for me.
And so as I was (metaphorically) flipping through old photographs on my laptop, I realised that each and every photograph captures not only a particular place or a particular scene, but a particular mood or emotion I had. Beyond the question of 'what I was taking' lies 'why was I taking that' or 'in what mood did I see this particular sight'. Having procrastinated for two years, I finally developed chosen photographs from my album and put it as my desktop picture - each and every photograph has a story of its own waiting to be told.
If each photograph tells a story, then by extension, life is a sequence of interlinked photographs. When I look back at these photographs I have taken, I am reminded of myself when I was 18, when I was 20, as I am today. It is for these very same reasons that I blog, so that through these words I capture my particular perspective and feelings, and lock them in for an undefined amount of time. One day I will return to these words; One day I may unlock these feelings and let them run.
For that special someone, I remember your voice. The week might be long but yet its always the time together that set the difference.
Always the day, the time, the moment.
more serious thoughts than any time that I can recall.
In the past four weeks, I have restrung and played new pieces on my violin, been out with someone special to places and penning the admission statement for MBA- in fact, the past week was one of the most productive in recent memory. To be fair, I have had my fair share of hours at work, but nowhere near as much as I had expected to / am capable of putting in. After 15 years of rigorous structured education, I think I have outlived my time as a student. The truth is painfully obvious - I cannot wait to start living life the way I have always wanted to. Already I am responsible for most of my life. I know that everyone says how the best time of your life is when you are a student, but surely I have had enough of this "best time" and want more. With my hands now, I want to make a difference, to make more impact and make education work for me.
And so as I was (metaphorically) flipping through old photographs on my laptop, I realised that each and every photograph captures not only a particular place or a particular scene, but a particular mood or emotion I had. Beyond the question of 'what I was taking' lies 'why was I taking that' or 'in what mood did I see this particular sight'. Having procrastinated for two years, I finally developed chosen photographs from my album and put it as my desktop picture - each and every photograph has a story of its own waiting to be told.
If each photograph tells a story, then by extension, life is a sequence of interlinked photographs. When I look back at these photographs I have taken, I am reminded of myself when I was 18, when I was 20, as I am today. It is for these very same reasons that I blog, so that through these words I capture my particular perspective and feelings, and lock them in for an undefined amount of time. One day I will return to these words; One day I may unlock these feelings and let them run.
For that special someone, I remember your voice. The week might be long but yet its always the time together that set the difference.
Always the day, the time, the moment.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Thank you PS John
This is absolutely weird and uncanny but I have been having series of military dreams.
I have to pen it down here because I am getting senile with each passing day. Like with each dream that has been dreamt, passed to the air, leaving me with total emptiness.
When I recall, I have to thank my BMT platoon sergeant- John for giving me the wonderful memories during army.
One of which will include bringing me to the medical centre on the very first night I stepped foot on Pulau Tekong.
To think of it, I am the very first person to report sick for the basic military training stint.
And yes, thank you PS John, I can still remember, almost crystal clear.
Though I have no idea where you are.
We shall not be moved.
We like it here, we like it here.
We call ourselves a home.
A home, a home, a home sweet home.
I have to pen it down here because I am getting senile with each passing day. Like with each dream that has been dreamt, passed to the air, leaving me with total emptiness.
When I recall, I have to thank my BMT platoon sergeant- John for giving me the wonderful memories during army.
One of which will include bringing me to the medical centre on the very first night I stepped foot on Pulau Tekong.
To think of it, I am the very first person to report sick for the basic military training stint.
And yes, thank you PS John, I can still remember, almost crystal clear.
Though I have no idea where you are.
We shall not be moved.
We like it here, we like it here.
We call ourselves a home.
A home, a home, a home sweet home.
October
You know that it is now October in Singapore because of the wonderful occasional downpours and one by one of us drifting onto the grey cobble-stoned walks with different shades of brollies. You know that it is October because the breeze is cool, and yet hot at times under the scotching glow of the afternoon lunch sun. You know that it is October because there is an unspoken energy all around that whispers a secret - that December is arriving, and that it is sort of Fall in Singapore. You will not know its Fall because Singapore's tropical weather comprises only 2 simple types, either sunny or raining.
From the bustling streets along Orchard to the quiet lanes by Petir, from the cautious faces of runners to the shoppers who go berserk from sales, even from the majestic and glorious wide expanse of the sky - with sporadic rays of the sun hidden behind the clouds. It has begun, and eventually it will end.
You know I miss you, whenever you are away for that week.
I sleep, every night, ruminating and reflecting on times we had.
Moving forward for the day that comes.
You know it too.
From the bustling streets along Orchard to the quiet lanes by Petir, from the cautious faces of runners to the shoppers who go berserk from sales, even from the majestic and glorious wide expanse of the sky - with sporadic rays of the sun hidden behind the clouds. It has begun, and eventually it will end.
You know I miss you, whenever you are away for that week.
I sleep, every night, ruminating and reflecting on times we had.
Moving forward for the day that comes.
You know it too.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Numb
Sometimes, I stop and realise how incredibly numb I have become. I never used to be like this. After a converation with a participant today during assessment, I have seen myself as if through a mirror. I look pale and uncaring, but most importantly, my heart is hardened. I don't believe I'm an overly-emotional or "emo" (or whatever contraction of the same word) person. You only have that impression because I write here as a cathartic purge of whatever that troubles me. Instead of the high-highs and low-lows of an emotional wreck, I feel the constant numbness of a wife in mourning. I go about my daily activities, and in the words of Jewel, I'm half alive but I feel mostly dead.
Would a numb person know that he is numb? Or instead would the truly numb not realise a thing. I really don't know, and frankly have too much on my mind to sit and reflect on the state I am in. Now, I feel as though I am one of the most unloving persons I know. I owe it to you (and to myself) to be as honest as possible, which is why I do not pretend that life is a bed of roses. I do what I am good at, and make sure I'm good at it. Sometimes I worry if I'm living it right; or when things don't go well, whether what lies ahead me is right.
In a totally unrelated text message from my friend, in preparation for Monday Orientation session that just passed, he shared with me a story on a mother with three children in tow eating bread everyday, surviving with simple crumbs. This, in a surprising response, made me feel how lucky I am. Surprising that comes from a "numbed" person.
Live the day as if its your last.
Would a numb person know that he is numb? Or instead would the truly numb not realise a thing. I really don't know, and frankly have too much on my mind to sit and reflect on the state I am in. Now, I feel as though I am one of the most unloving persons I know. I owe it to you (and to myself) to be as honest as possible, which is why I do not pretend that life is a bed of roses. I do what I am good at, and make sure I'm good at it. Sometimes I worry if I'm living it right; or when things don't go well, whether what lies ahead me is right.
In a totally unrelated text message from my friend, in preparation for Monday Orientation session that just passed, he shared with me a story on a mother with three children in tow eating bread everyday, surviving with simple crumbs. This, in a surprising response, made me feel how lucky I am. Surprising that comes from a "numbed" person.
Live the day as if its your last.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
The Gift
Of all the many things you've been gifted with, which will you never ever want to lose?
When I was young, I used to think - how miserable it would be never to walk again. If I had lost my ability to walk, I would never be able to take long walks barefoot on the beach, by the setting of the sun. I would never feel the cool water under my feet as I waddle beyond the shore; or run barefoot with my son along the green green fields before I grab him in my arms and tumble, laughing heartily aloud.
I paused, and then I changed my mind. I would never want to lose my sense of hearing, simply because I cannot conceive of a world without music. All my life I have found my silent escape in chords and notations - be it on the piano, the violin or the computer speakers playing my favourite music. Not only will I lose my perfect pitching, I lose the tenderness of tones in your voice with every word you speak.
No, I would never want to lose my vision. This world is a manifestation of nature's magnificance and beauty - in the first petals that unfinger themselves in spring, or the spectrum of colours at the moment of dusk. If I cannot see the boundless love in your eyes, I have lost all conception of beauty in my life.
Today, I was confronted with this prospect - what if you lost all your memories, would your life still be the same? As I imagine that I deteriorate in my mental health, perhaps losing control over all movements, sight, hearing, maybe Alzheimer's, the most common type of dementia. An increasingly poor and failing memory is one thing, but the day will inevitably come when I can no longer recognise my own face or my voice.
With things in perspective, it seems that your sight or your vision are almost vehicles to capture these moments of love or strong emotion. What is the point of seeing or hearing, if you have forgotten to love, if you have forgotten who to love?
My colleague Eric left the company to seek the greener pastures on the other side of the field. I appreciate all the assistance he provided when he was around and that memory stays right in the head. Afterall, that memory is one thing that I hold and even if I lose it, it still belongs to me.
August Orientation Program with some of the participants.
When I was young, I used to think - how miserable it would be never to walk again. If I had lost my ability to walk, I would never be able to take long walks barefoot on the beach, by the setting of the sun. I would never feel the cool water under my feet as I waddle beyond the shore; or run barefoot with my son along the green green fields before I grab him in my arms and tumble, laughing heartily aloud.
I paused, and then I changed my mind. I would never want to lose my sense of hearing, simply because I cannot conceive of a world without music. All my life I have found my silent escape in chords and notations - be it on the piano, the violin or the computer speakers playing my favourite music. Not only will I lose my perfect pitching, I lose the tenderness of tones in your voice with every word you speak.
No, I would never want to lose my vision. This world is a manifestation of nature's magnificance and beauty - in the first petals that unfinger themselves in spring, or the spectrum of colours at the moment of dusk. If I cannot see the boundless love in your eyes, I have lost all conception of beauty in my life.
Today, I was confronted with this prospect - what if you lost all your memories, would your life still be the same? As I imagine that I deteriorate in my mental health, perhaps losing control over all movements, sight, hearing, maybe Alzheimer's, the most common type of dementia. An increasingly poor and failing memory is one thing, but the day will inevitably come when I can no longer recognise my own face or my voice.
With things in perspective, it seems that your sight or your vision are almost vehicles to capture these moments of love or strong emotion. What is the point of seeing or hearing, if you have forgotten to love, if you have forgotten who to love?
My colleague Eric left the company to seek the greener pastures on the other side of the field. I appreciate all the assistance he provided when he was around and that memory stays right in the head. Afterall, that memory is one thing that I hold and even if I lose it, it still belongs to me.
August Orientation Program with some of the participants.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
One Year On...
This ends 2 weeks of blogging inactivity.
July 19 marks the day where my mother left this world and July 18, 2006 was the worst day that ever crossed my path.
It puts great emotional effort to summon that deeply etched loss to emerge once again.
Not that I forget but I choose to escape. It might not be the best way but yes, everyone performs that.
Have you not felt at times the desperate need to escape? - to feel life flowing through your veins; to see the sun cast its warm glow over your neighbourhood fields; to be alone yet comfortable, away from everything. At the risk of sounding like an angsty teenager, i admit I have been running all my life. running from my family, running from the way I am, running into the unknown. I know my life has not been as adventurous as many i know, yet how many times have we not stopped in our tracks, only to turn back and see the mess of footprints we have left behind while running?
I might sound so cynical and melancholic but how much will anyone understands?
You can't right because Thomas is too naggy and one pathetic soul.
You just can't but for those who can,
tell me, because I have dearly forgotten how much it feels to be alive again.
[Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again.]
- Tori Amos
July 19 marks the day where my mother left this world and July 18, 2006 was the worst day that ever crossed my path.
It puts great emotional effort to summon that deeply etched loss to emerge once again.
Not that I forget but I choose to escape. It might not be the best way but yes, everyone performs that.
Have you not felt at times the desperate need to escape? - to feel life flowing through your veins; to see the sun cast its warm glow over your neighbourhood fields; to be alone yet comfortable, away from everything. At the risk of sounding like an angsty teenager, i admit I have been running all my life. running from my family, running from the way I am, running into the unknown. I know my life has not been as adventurous as many i know, yet how many times have we not stopped in our tracks, only to turn back and see the mess of footprints we have left behind while running?
I might sound so cynical and melancholic but how much will anyone understands?
You can't right because Thomas is too naggy and one pathetic soul.
You just can't but for those who can,
tell me, because I have dearly forgotten how much it feels to be alive again.
[Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again.]
- Tori Amos
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