When the stars have all gone out, you'll still be burning so bright.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Have faith. Pray.

Hope you would enjoy this story. (:

THE GROCERY LIST

Louise Redden, a poorly dressed lady with a look of defeat on her face, walked into a grocery store. She approached the owner of the store in a most humble manner and asked if he would let her charge a few groceries. She softly explained that her husband was very ill and unable to work, they had seven children and they needed food.

John Longhouse, the grocer scoffed at her and requested that she leave his store at once. Visualizing the family needs, she said: "Please, sir! I ill bring you the money just as soon as I can."

John told her he could not give her credit, since she did not have a charge account at his store. Standing beside the counter was a customer who overheard the conversation between the two. The customer walked forward and told the grocer that he would stand good for whatever she needed for her family.

The grocer said in a very reluctant voice, "Do you have a grocery list?" Louise replied, "Yes sir" "O.K" he said, "put your grocery list on the scales and whatever your grocery list weighs, I will give you that amount in groceries."

Louise, hesitated a moment with a bowed head, then she reached into her purse and took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. She then laid the piece of paper on the scale carefully with her head still bowed.

The eyes of the grocer and the customer showed amazement when the scales went down and stayed down. The grocer, staring at the scales, turned slowly to the customer and said begrudgingly, "I can't believe it."

The customer smiled and the grocer started putting the groceries on the other side of the scales. The scale did not balance so he continued to put more and more groceries on them until the scales would hold no more.

The grocer stood there in utter disgust. Finally, he grabbed the piece of paper from the scales and looked at it with greater amazement. It was not a grocery list, it was a prayer, which said: "Dear Lord, you know my needs and I am leaving this in your hands."

The grocer gave her the groceries that he had gathered and stood in stunned silence. Louise thanked him and left the store. The other customer handed a fifty-dollar bill to the grocer and said, "It was worth every penny of it. Only God Knows how much a prayer weighs."

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'Coz in the end it's just you. At the end of time it's just yourself. And God, who has been always watching over you, waiting for you, loving you despite all your sins and neglect towards Him. How many people can do that?

He has never given up on you.

Rayne

Where dreams were made; 6:04 PM

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Today I set out to reclaim all my past letters of my later years of my childhood...and now am wishing I hadn't.

Let me start from the beginning. Yesterday, I was looking for a book to read, when I encountered my box of letters from my PEPS friends. You see, when I left PEPS, I was really upset. Losing my friends, - best friends, even - my teachers and the prospect of being able to graduate in my mother school, I tried to retain whatever connections I could possible retain. At that time young, and not made my debut to MSN Messenger and the likes, I stayed in contact with the only communication other than calls that I could -

Letters.

And I was happy. I wrote to a few people, and got back their letters, and wrote again. The letters became a source of joy and anticipation for me. But after a while, it got tedious. It became harder to fit in time to sit down to write a proper letter, not with my homework, projects and my computer. I gave up totally after that, and did not think much about it anymore.

Until yesterday. The box contained letters from Cherry, Vanessa, my dear "Da Jie" Charmaine. I looked through them all and smiled. But something seemed to be missing. I searched through the letters (they weren't a large pile) and again. Where was that letter? I searched through my bookshelves. Nothing. On top of my cupboard. One - a christmas card from Cherry which I hadn't bothered to reply to. (Sorry.) In my drawers - a mess of things that had previously amused me.

So today, I went on a hunt for "that letter". I searched through my bookshelves again, then plunged bravely into the riot of stuff in my drawers. The first one - no. Second - nil. Third- nada. Finally I came to the last -and the most messy one- and struck gold. I fished out not one, but three letters, including "that letter".

Although I was happy, I also felt this pang of loss. Although I have my friends' MSN contacts now, it's different. Sometimes you just have nothing to say to each other on MSN and there is an awkward silence. Sometimes you want, so much, to speak to a person but are unable to press that button. Writing letters is different. You talk about your ideals, your thoughts, your life - it's kind of like a monologue, but the other person replies.

As we grow older, we seem to be more immersed in the technology age. Writing letters isn't as effective or as fun anymore. It's more of a tedious, ongoing process. I tried, once again, to revive a letter correspondent this year, and failed. That person never replied. And in a way I can't blame - I was the one who stopped the correspondence in the beginning. But now, I regret that I had. It would be so much more fun, really, to write letters now.

Ah well, at least I still have the MSN contacts, and I get to meet them twice a year. Hopefully I can rectify such a mistake next time. Perhaps I would never summon up the courage to write another letter again - perhaps I would, only to be rebuffed yet another time. Yet, who can I blame, except myself, for that one folly?

Rayne

Where dreams were made; 4:29 PM

Friday, April 20, 2007

Today heralds the end of the week. The end of a very wretched week, the end of a week which flung me from one feeling to another.

I think so much about it. OM, I mean. And everytime I forget, it's always there, popping out of a sudden. All the memories that are in my heart. Everywhere I turn I see OMers, whether it be in my group, or in prob 3, or our seniors. I smile, take another look, turn away. Sometimes I wave hello. Sometimes I walk past, wondering whether to smile, wondering whether that person would recognise me. It's a funny feeling, walking past a person whom you've hugged to seek comfort, or probably to give it.

Once I had wanted OM to be over and done with. Once I had congratulated myself that OM is, thankfully, only half a year, such that the last half we can all slack and laugh at the RS people. But when everything's over, I do not get this feeling of satisfaction. Sure, accomplishment, yes, but not satisfaction at having completed a very long project. Nor relief that I could finally focus on my studies and 3rd lang. Just- emptiness. And I can't go back into my normal routine, no matter how I try.

My brain doesn't seem to want to work. My heart isn't willing to put in anymore effort in keeping up with my school work. I just feel this ultimate feel of wretchedness, boredom and numbness. The presence of a few people, namely Maryam, Muni, Sarah and Gracey makes me feel happier. When I went into 212 on Monday Maryam took one look at my face and immediately came to hug me. Aw, thanks Mar. And Muni too. It's always a comfort just seeing Sarah, and escorting Gracey to and from assembly is fun. (:

Now RS seems like the happiest block there is. We laugh and sing and spilt turpentine, and everyone got a kick out of seeing me being whacked on the head by a mop, fought over by Anky and Joey. The weirdest things happen to me in OM, huh? First being kissed by a dog, then being whacked by a mop, what next?

Today JX said during lesson our trademark quote, "WAIT, I need to mediTATE." They all didn't get it, but I did, and so did Florence. And for some reason, I felt happy when JX said that. Because even though the whole thing is over, even though we may go back to our usual lives with our usual friends, the memories would still be there. We would still have something to talk over, to laugh over, to cry over.

Despite all our differences there we are - standing right there on the stage, listening to the applause. Doing our funny cheers. Laughing over Spon and eating Sour Power. There were bad moments, but there were good moments, so good that I want to laugh just thinking about it. The final performance had been amazing. And perhaps we may never go to Michigan for OM World Finals, but the important thing is, we've done this together. And that matters a lot to me. (:

Perhaps I haven't really put it across yet. What OM meant to me, at that point of time. Perhaps my description, my explanation is so jumbled that you've skimmed through all the parts just to get to this paragraph. But I have a feeling, that when I come back a year later, or two years later, when I read this post all over again, I would understand. I would still have that same feeling. And it may still hurt, a little, but I'm picking up my pace now. Hopefully, I would learn to strike a balance. Hopefully I can retain some but move on. Move on to where, I don't know. But at least, strike a balance between the past and the future.

I'm only thinking of you.

Rayne

Where dreams were made; 9:09 PM

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

_______,

Perhaps I ought not to worry. You've always been able to take care of yourself, manage yourself. Always managed to be happy and smiling and shrug off the sad and horrible things that come your way. Still retain your own unique values and your own cute personality. Not changed in the time that I've known.

But I can't help it. I know, I know that you can comfort yourself with God. That you've always been independent and always will be. After all this, I still worry. Worry about your happenings, your feelings, you as a general person. Maybe it's because I want to protect you. I know it seems weird, but don't people want to protect the people whom they love? All these time I've always been the one showing my feelings, when I am sad and depressed, when I am missing you. You are the one offering your ideas, your reassurances. I won't say you offer comfort because you don't, but I still feel comforted all the same. Reassured. Safe, at least for that moment.

Am I wrong to worry? You don't really need me, need us. You've always been like this pillar of stability, of fun and craziness. Recently I found that when I needed you the most, you weren't there. Or that you were, but I turned away because I was not sure that I can even talk to you about the things that bothered me most. I can't begrudge you. You're not the one changing- I am. I've realised the futility of it all, and all I can do is to accept it not with candor, not with resignation. Something in between.

You are still my friend. I still love you, never ever doubt that. Perhaps not everything would change. Perhaps after many years we would still be in touch and remain firm friends. Not accquaintances - friends. Oh, how I would it would be so.

Rayne

Where dreams were made; 6:09 PM

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Sitting out on a desk in front of my classroom makes me feel - well, calm, at the very least. You know, sometimes you want to be alone by yourself. At the desk I don't feel lonely. At the desk I can pretend that there's only me in the world, that there's no hypocrisy or suffering or tension or stress. Just me, and the sky and the ocean and the world.

These days I've been feeling very compressed. All stuffed up and false. Don't ask why - I think Sarah would know. My mask is hardening slowly, and I have no idea whether I can take it off at the end. And inside I'm aching to tell somebody, but my mouth won't form the words, my heart - and pride - would not allow me to tell anybody. Sarah, I did tell you today, but even so. Why is it so hard? Until now, when I thought I had gotten over pretense, that I'm above hypocrisy, this has to crop up, now at all times?

Dancin' where the stars go blue
Dancin' where the evening fell
Dancin' in your wooden shoes
In a wedding gown

Dancin' out on 7th street
Dancin' through the underground
Dancin' little marionette
Are you happy now?

No. I am not happy. What is happiness now? If it means chasing people through corridors and watching bug-eyed as one of my friends climbed over the toilet wall, if it means sharing a long tube of marshmallow and listening as she reads aloud, if it means yelling, "I love you!" to a stranger from a balcony just before an exam, if it means laughing ourselves sick in a library and keep shushing ourselves from making too much noise, if it means spending time with you, that is happiness. Simple, but pure happiness. Where had those times gone now? Would they ever return, to accompany me by my side?

I admit, I need my friends. However much sometimes I feel like covering my ears with my hands and just sinking into silence, I still need them to be there, to let me smile even just for that thirty minutes during recess or lunch. That's all. That's all the reprieve I can get now. How many times do I laugh, truly, from the heart? Sometimes I don't even smile sincerely at all.

I want to turn back time. I want to go back to the times when everything was kept simple, when I didn't understand about hypocrisy, when I didn't try to put up a front everyday. I want to go back to the times when I'm happy because I am happy, I laugh because it comes out of me so naturally that I don't even think about it. Because this is worse, much much worse. And I cannot quit or say that I give up because it just doesn't work that way.

I want 112 back. Heck, I need 112 back. 211's fine and all, but it's just not the same. It's just not the same people, the same stoned environment, the same location. I can't - as Gracey puts it - look around the room and locate the people I love. I can't even poke my head in 210 to look for Sarah during assembly anymore because she's not there. Everything's changed and while I've gotten used to it, there's just this empty aching place in my heart that throbs everytime I see 212, whenever I see Gracey or Sarah. Because everything's changing, everybody's growing up and having their own cliques and friends. Cliques within cliques, friends within friends. The irony of it all. That parody which swirls around us day after day.

What else to look forward to? What else to love anew? Nothing, nothing nothing nothing. I can't see where this is heading and perhaps I never could. I once said that I hope I do not blunder through 2007 like 2006, but I'm doing it again. A vicious cycle, only it gets worse with every year that passes.

Oh, if only all the ugliness of the world can vanish. If only time can stop and give us - me - a breather. If only I would just stop lamenting about change and stop putting on this ridiculous and hideous mask of mine. In this world, there just doesn't seem to have defined lines anymore.

Rayne

Where dreams were made; 9:36 PM

Monday, April 02, 2007

It's time to say goodbye
Block out the sun and pack up the sky
Don't let my tears start to make you cry
Each time I try to say my goodbye
Try to stop asking why
Tell me it's true, tell me there's something more
Another time for love
One day I'll know, one day I'll be there
Will you be waiting?

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Somehow, I feel like everything's being taken away from me. My time, my sanity, my freedom...

Is it possible to take away a person? Is it possible for SIR Cumstances (Sorry, OM mood) to take away a person who is dear to your heart? The earth's SIR Cumference is getting no smaller, so why do I feel so stuffed up and enclosed?

Why, why why why is it that I've only met you recently but I'm already missing you? Why is it that sometimes I find myself breathless with fear, almost anticipating that fear trigger with a large degree of trepidation? Do I ask for it? Perhaps, this is one more of my hallucinations or illusions?

Everyday there seems to be a purpose for me, whether for me willingly or unwillingly. Sometimes I lose sight of this purpose, and by the end of the day I'm wondering, "Did I do what I set out to do?"

And often the answer is no. Because I get sidetracked momentarily and my whole pace is lost. The whole system collapses down on me and I have no idea. Often it's only at the end that I look back and realise that everything's a mess. Ruin. And often no one's there to cheer me on anymore.

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I was thinking on the bus, that many things that are important to me aren't visible. Like love, for example. You cannot possibly say, "Oh, I know that you love me because I can see pink hearts all around you." Or a more reasonable one, "I know you love me because you are mostly there to help me."

Because the person might do it out of pity for you. It happens. How can we understand another human's intention without them telling us? No, not with practicality. Not even with common sense. More of the human intuition, the human heart. Most of the things that are important to me, and I repeat, can't be seen. But I know it's there. Because I believe in it. I trust the things and the principles that buoy me up, and that is very beneficial.

I believe in myself. And God. And love and trust and you. I don't trust myself fully, but a certain grudging trust is always there. Always, always. For God I give my full.

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Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Women they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you'll know....

Where dreams were made; 6:39 PM