-

I saw you again. Tonight. It was a harmless nap, an exhaustion of the body after much revision, a comfortable sofa-bed, fans blowing in the humidity of nighttime spring. Dreams, as they are, have little hurtful impact, and therefore we indulge in them, the pleasure derived from the half-conscious control we have within them. Somehow you've embedded yourself in the recesses of my mind, appearing in the most sensational manner when it sinks into stress mode. And I don't experience stress often enough to learn how to manage the memories of you and slowly push them out. No, it's not your fault. I don't know if I can or want to in the first place. Enough time has passed, but.

You were in a black singlet and white shorts, and didn't say a word throughout; all you did was curl your knees to your chest, the armor around your body turning into paper plates and falling off. I asked if you were okay, if you wanted anything, if there was something on your mind. You looked at me and smiled, shaking your head. The world suddenly turned into a supermarket with white walls and shadows for people who didn't seem to notice us. I found myself dashing off to get you something which I couldn't find in the end; don't ask me what it was, I don't remember. All I could recall was coming back for you, and finding that you were no longer on the floor, but curled up at the top shelve, looking down at me and smiling. I could only imagine relief, and returned the smile. Throughout the entire event, there was only silence, but it was comfortable. No, it was wonderful. I stretched my hand forth and reached out for you.

Then my hand phone rang. The tranquility was shattered by a phone call from someone who did not even answer after I picked up. I have the number, but I don't know who called. And I was pissed enough not to return the call.



Even as I write all this, something, someone is watching me from behind.




I hope you're okay.




But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. -William Butler Yeats

"Don't Love You No More"

Story of my life.

Don't Love You No More

For all the years that I've known you baby
I can't figure out the reason why lately you've been acting so cold
(Didn't you say)
If there's a problem we should work it out
So why you giving me the cold shoulder now
Like you don't even wanna talk to me girl
(Tell me)
Okay I know I was late again
I made you mad and dinner's thrown in (the bin)
But why are you making this drag on so long
(I wanna know)
I'm sick and tired of this silly games
(Silly games)
Don't figure that I'm the only one here to blame
It's not me here who's been going round slamming doors
That's when you turned and said to me
I don't care babe who's right or wrong
I just don't love you no more

[CHORUS]
Rain outside my window pouring down
What now, your gone, my fault, I'm sorry
Feeling like a fool cause I let you down
Now it's, too late, to turn it around
I'm sorry for the tears I made you cry
I guess this time it really is goodbye
You made it clear when you said
I just don't love you no more

[VERSE 2]
I know that I made a few mistakes
But never thought that things would turn out this way
Cause I'm missing something now that you're gone
(I see it all so clearly)
Me at the door with you in a state
(In a state)
Giving my reasons but as you look away
I can see a tear roll down your face
That's when you turned and said to me
I don't care babe who's right or wrong
I just don't love you no more

[BRIDGE]
Don't say those words it's so hard
They turn my whole world upside down
Girl you caught me completely off-guard
On the night you said to me
I just don't love you more

I just love Craig David's voice, in my opinion he's the perfect R&B voice! And it took me a while to realize that couldn't sing this song properly till I understood the lyrics by going through the pain of it. If I can pull off the chords, or find someone who can, I'll incorporate the song into my repertoire. Need to tweak the back up vocals, either I don't sing it or I get a second person to.

Thank God for sustaining my study momentum this past week! I'm nearly done with 4 out of 5 modules, even when my first paper hasn't even started yet. LOL. Go go go!! +)




Never said "don't love you no more" to a girl before. Nope. Maybe the most was "can't love you anymore" because the girl was getting married, and even then, at that point of time I couldn't bring myself to mean what I said. Besides that, I've never done, and neither do I ever want to be in a situation to break any girl's heart by saying those few words. -Valentino Casanova

Things are beautiful if you love them. -Jean Anouilh

AWARE and the Hidden 3rd Party

This upheaval is making a lot headlines in Singapore. There are basically two parties, the old guard and the new guard. I'm not going to elaborate about the situation, if you want to know the newspaper has aplenty. Personally, I don't support either side. I enjoy being a spectator, like most sociologists, without butting my head into every thing. However, I would like to give a whole new critical perspective.

This "war" is not just between both sides. In every conflict, there's always a third party to watch out for, usually very invisible, very subtle, but very influential. My "literature review" will just have one example, the idea of a romantic relationship. During a breakup, some people will blame the guy, some will blame the girl, those with a bit more experience and commonsense will say that both parties were at fault. Very few people will see the picture from a 3D perspective, and notice that God, the 3rd party and Sovereign Creator, has the biggest hand in it. And by understanding God, the breakup suddenly becomes very clear.

Likewise, using a politically critical perspective (which I love to do), I shall bring in the 3rd party, the Singaporeans themselves. Of course, if you're a Singaporean with no interest whatsoever in the entire upheaval, this perspective will have no relevance to you and you will not feel offended in any way. However, if you've been following, and have your own opinions, and are taking sides with one party or another, let me show you how you can be implicated in this entire issue.

Simply by being a typical Singaporean and not participating in such civil roles entitled to you e.g. sitting and having your vote in AWARE meetings, rightfully you have no say in this matter. Anyone can seem extremely politically correct, righteously defending one side, but don't forget that by accusing another party, you're indirectly defending yourself by taking a bystander view and taking yourself out of the picture. Art is not art unless it's has a context, a background. Likewise, a scandal erupts in certain places only because of the elements that constitute the "space" that it has occurred in. We are that space. There is no glory in self-righteous behavior by slinging mud when the matter is over. If you have something to say, the best way to do it is through a vote next year.

This is the cons of living in a "democratic" country. You have the right and responsibility to participate in civil affairs, especially urban social movements like AWARE that bring good feedback and improvement to the state-running of affairs. If you don't want to participate, then don't cry foul when it has been decided. Should this saga be a reflection of future Singapore, then this country is doomed to be like it's neighboring states with minorities creating an endless cycle of political uproars even after the votes have been tallied strongly against them again and again.




Now for a Marxist critique of what I've just wrote. Participation in civil movements is skewed to the upper-class, as you can see both the old and new guards are made up of highly educated civilians with strong ties one way or another to the state. It is also clear that Christians, even at 14% of the national population, constitute a majority of the upper-class professionals in Singapore. Thus this entire saga is simply a war between the elites of Singapore, especially with issues on lesbianism which are shown to be post-materialist concerns i.e. no one in dying Rwanda talks about lesbianism, they are issues that come up when societies achieve a certain amount of socio-economic development (scarcity hypothesis). What this will lead to is a marginalization of the Singaporean underclass women who need help out of their current situation with fundamental changes to policy development, and this will not be achieved by spending more than the appropriate amount of time debating on lesbianism issues, however important is it. Priority is for the poor and needy suffering from repression based on gender, which AWARE was initially set up for.

Thus in conclusion, I have constructed a defense for both parties involved, shifting the blame to the population and political context in Singapore in general (which includes myself), and then breaking it down again with a Marxian critique based on Christian elites in Singapore. Nonetheless, this "scandal" should bring about an opportunity for a good amount of self-reflection, if anything. And the solution, you ask. Let's just all learn to play our part in society by performing the roles and duties required of us to our very best, and most of all, not accuse one another in adolescent heat, but to love one another.


That's all I have to say regarding this entire event. +)




Mankind must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation for such a method is love. -Martin Luther King Jr.

A Birthday Wish

Thank you everyone for all the birthday wishes. I can't believe how many people remembered my birthday! Greatly appreciated. +) To be honest I had a great birthday, sitting down and studying for so long I left a dent on my chair. Had RJ and Jason at my house too with satay from Aunty Lilly and a lovely strawberry cream cake from my Dad courtesy of my Japanese patisserie neighbor.

Actually, I did an experiment last year, temporarily taking my birthday off Facebook, and hardly anyone noticed anything amiss. Then, this year I decided to leave it on, and voila, I receive a barrage of well-wishes. Even phone calls, sms, so many to the point that I really hope my thanks sounded sincere since I was repeating more or less the same things to everyone. Contrary to what people think, I don't really like birthday celebrations for myself, and especially people giving me presents. I mean, I love all the wonderful gifts that I get, but I just feel so paiseh that I have hardly anything to give in return besides my friendship, and that you people always spend so much money on me.

Anyway, I did something unique this year. Usually birthday wishes are made for oneself, or at the most for the people around the celebrant. And yes, I usually ask for good results, family happiness and health etc., but this year I thought I'll try something different. I decided to ask God to allow me to love people the way Jesus loves them. Let's see what becomes of this. +)



One does not fall in love; one grows into love, and love grows in him. -Karl A. Menninger

White Obsession

I think white must be the most oft mentioned color in the Bible. An astounding 67 times. (Actually "gold" is, at a record 430 times, but I don't count it because it's used to refer to currency also) And it's my favorite color too! I didn't always like the color white. When I was younger, I preferred blue (must have been socialized into thinking it was a masculine color), and I always wondered why God would choose the color white for our "uniforms" in heaven. But over time my preference changed. No disrespect to those of you who have other favorite colors, but permit me to reason.

Firstly, as mentioned above, white must be the best color simply because it's God's chosen color to fashion our clothing with. So there.

Secondly, white is the color of light, and science has shown us that all the colors of the rainbow spectrum (except black) will combine to form white. So for those of you who hate white, don't worry. I'm sure our clothing in Heaven is bleached white, but allows us to change to other colors using the above logic!

Thirdly, it is research proven that white is the most convincing color. Surveys and experiments have shown that people have a higher tendency to believe the words of promoters on TV who wear white. So beware of the "scientists" on TV who sell you brands of washing powder, as well as your family doctor or dentist. However, you can trust the showgirls at the car or IT shows wearing white singlets and mini-skirts.

Lastly, don't you agree that white is the most beautifying color of all? (So far the only people who strongly disagree are David who has an obsession with orange, and Richard whose love for green started decades ago) Personal preference, but I tend to think that girls who wear white are much prettier. It takes courage to wear white, because assuming all else equal, white clothing tends to bring out one's figure. And looking back now, (coincidence or not you decide for yourself) all the ladies I've fallen in love with wore a completely white outfit on the very first day I actually noticed them. And the only occasional request that I've ever made for all of them was to wear white for me.

Okay, now that I've typed all this rubbish down, I realize I must be really tired. I'm about done with one module (out of five) for the upcoming exams. And had a sumptuous buffet at the M Hotel with my family too. So much more to finish, so many calories to burn, and so many after-exam plans to make.



But I'm still in love with white. Sigh. +)




She is ridiculously beautiful. I said to her one time that I was just so happy not to be in love with her because I couldn't imagine how awful that would be. I don't think she understood it was a compliment. -Writer-director Joss Whedon on his Dollhouse star Eliza Dushku

Yeah, I know exactly what that it feels like to fall in love with a ridiculously beautiful woman. Awful isn't sufficient. Beautiful affliction, that's what it is. Don't ask me if I've learnt my lesson or not, I have a gut feeling that I haven't. -Valentino Casanova

A Best Friend. A Hero.

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love. -Jane Austen (1775-1817), Northanger Abbey

I Heart You

Some time last Monday afternoon, I was picking up Nick's repaired guitar from the shop at Peninsular and feeling in exceptionally high spirits (and broke too) that I had accomplished so much in a day. It was a remarkably beautiful day, dunno if you all felt the same way too. On the way home however, I saw something that broke my heart.

City Hall to Tanjong Pagar is separated by only 2 MRT stops, and rarely do I notice anything on such a short journey besides the occasional pretty office lady, or try to strain my eyes to read the Sports section of anyone with the New Paper. But that day, I saw a little boy sitting on a pram too small for him. He was skinny, and his facial features slightly deformed. All four of his limbs were thin to the bone, and his head kept bobbing up and down, eyes wandering to and fro. The lady on the chair, whom I suppose was his mother or his guardian looked really exhausted, pale and eyes half-closed, leaning her head against the plastic window.

Then when he saw me, his head stopped turning about and he looked at the electric guitar slung on my shoulder. I initially looked on with amusement, wondering if I really looked that cool with (of all people) Nick's guitar. Then my bad habit came again.

I have this exceptionally bad habit of looking into people's eyes. Some have said that it's intimidating, some have found that it makes them extremely uncomfortable, and a small minority few (who intrigue me) find it particularly sexy. That's why if you see me purposely diverting my eyes away from you when we're having a conversation, do pardon me. Experience has shown that it gives people the wrong signals more often than not. I just enjoy looking into people's eyes because often I can see if they're lying, insecure, confident, or simply plain uninterested. Some people have mastered the art of hiding their emotions, but even then, there are reasons for why some have claimed that the "eyes are the windows to one's soul". Children however, do not hide anything. Or at least they are too innocent or inexperienced to. That little boy's soul was bared open for me.

His eyes were just glazed with envy. I could imagine him wishing he was a rock star, jamming in front of the masses, soaking in the screams and basking in the adoration of a 100,000 strong audience. His eyes were fixated on the guitar for quite some time, before he realized that I was looking at him. Embarassingly, he diverted his eyes away, only to come back and stare at the instrument on my shoulders after a few seconds.

I looked at his little frail body, never to stand up, never to hold a guitar, never to sing into a microphone, nor lift up his hands. Something he wanted to do so badly, he might never do in his lifetime. Then I looked at myself. Everything I could dream of doing, I can do. I have no physical defect, mental deficiency, family problems or financial burdens. I'm so richly blessed by God that anyone in the right mind would chide me for being unsatisfied.

The boy looked at me. I looked into his eyes and smiled. Silently in my heart, I promised him, "With what God has given me, I'll do for you what you can't do for yourself. I'll write a song for you, with the rock groove you want, with your life story in it, and dedicate it to God on your behalf."

I think he could read my mind. After all, someone who's adapt at drawing the curtains of his eyes can also bear it all, even if it makes him vulnerable for that moment. Yes, I'm sure he got it, because he smiled back at me for a long, long time.

Joy overflowed out of my heart, spilling over and leaving puddles all the way home. I didn't care what the people on the train, at the station or at my neighborhood thought about this young man smiling to himself without a care in the world.

Because for that moment, I didn't have any. It was a beautiful Monday. +)

I heart you.
Shred my skin to ribbons, rip my heart to shreds,
Burn my soul to ashes and baby, that's that.
Because since the day I decided to love you,
It has been nothing but a psychological contract.
We can both withdraw from or violate the romantic fineprint,
And to be honest I don't care what you do to me no more.
For love and romance are enemies,
The former I hold, the latter I throw,
You don't have to remember me.
But I still heart you.

The Who, I will always and forever heart. -Shane Koh

He who binds to himself a joy doth the winged life destroys. But he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in Eternity's sunrise. -William Blake

-

Happy 21st Birthday you. It's a little belated I know. +)

Hope you had a wonderful day, with many more to come as you delight in God's presence. I wish you beauty mesmerizing, I wish you joy everlasting, I wish you peace never-ending. But most of all, most of all, oh most of all, I wish you Love.









Except ye become as little children, except you can wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five, ye cannot enter the kingdom of God. One must not only die daily, but everyday we must be born again. -Dorothy L. Sayers

He's Alive!

He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!

Time to go to bed early and prepare my dancing shoes for later. Can't stop singing can't stop singing! +)

Tams, Zhi, well done and keep up the good work! Will be praying for him.





Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime. -Martin Luther

Lead Me To Calvary

Thank you all who prayed for me! God really healed my throat the day of my IPPT. Though I didn't do as well as expected (15s from Silver pfft) I still want to thank God. Because of my flu I haven't been running for a week and still my weight dropped to 74kg (which is even lower than my OCS days, a record!) It was His being that kept me on my knees praying and His grace that healed me. My throat is back to normal and I can sing once again! But thinking about it, quite a bit of my esteem is based on my voice. I can actually feel sianz when I can't sing or talk.

Sometimes I just want to wake up with a BIG signboard on the bed ceiling that has something like "God Exists" or "Is Your Heart At Calvary?" There are days when I wake up feeling great, like I'm at the center of the world. But we all know that should never be the case. God should be the one at the center of the world. That's why QT is best done in the morning and not at night, to align our minds with things above, not things below.

It's Good Friday now. I should be in bed. Jerry's going to pick me and Andrew downstairs at 7.30am so we can be in church early for practice. But after the practice session with Andrew on the piano for the opening song "Lead Me To Calvary", we got the whole family singing it now wherever we go. It's a beautiful hymn, and the first time I heard it I was so drawn to the melody and the words. I'll leave it here for all of you to think about it and remember why we have a reason to live today.

Lead Me To Calvary

King of my life, I crown Thee now,
Thine shall the glory be;
Lest I forget Thy thorn-crowned brow,
Lead me to Calvary.

Lest I forget Gethsemane;
Lest I forget Thine agony;
Lest I forget Thy love for me,
Lead me to Calvary.

Show me the tomb where Thou wast laid,
Tenderly mourned and wept;
Angels in robes of light arrayed
Guarded Thee whilst Thou slept.

Let me like Mary, through the gloom,
Come with a gift to Thee;
Show to me now the empty tomb,
Lead me to Calvary.

May I be willing, Lord, to bear
Daily my cross for Thee;
Even Thy cup of grief to share,
Thou hast borne all for me.

We believe that the history of the world is but the history of His influence and that the center of the whole universe is the cross of Calvary. -Alexander Maclaren

Plateletpheresis

The disadvantage of being rarely sick is that when it comes, it lasts for a bloody long time.

I've got my IPPT this Thursday and am leading worship in the main service for the very first time on Good Friday. The virus couldn't have found a better time to attack. Damn sore throat. So much for the "abnormal abundance of platelets" in my blood. Still get sick anyway.

Hit my tenth time for blood donation, and a record 4 minutes to fill up the blood bag. I always find it strange that I always enter the donation room later and leave much earlier than the other donors. I don't think my blood flows very fast (I'm damn sure I have an average to below average metabolic rate), but I also don't see why some other healthy-looking young people take up to 20 minutes to fill up a satchel. Don't blame the older or skinnier ones though. Anyway a senior nurse advised me to go for this Plateletpheresis program, to donate my platelets because apparently I have a ton of them. Too little is dangerous, too much doesn't make a difference, she said. I was skeptical at first, I mean, the whole process is one and a half hours of a damn thick needle in your arm! They filter your blood, taking out the platelets, and then return you your blood. Well, we have a VIP suite for you and a huge LCD screen with plenty of DVDs to watch, she added. No, I still wasn't convinced, but I didn't say it. I think she saw through me, so she passed me a pamphlet. It only takes one donation to give three cancer patients a chance to survive, she told me. And there was this really cute little girl with leukaemia on the front page.

I've made up my mind. It's only one and a half hours anyway, and moreover, it is for cancer patients too. Who knows, maybe I might have cancer in the future?



What else could God possibly want from me by giving by so much platelets anyway?







To love someone deeply gives you strength. To be loved by someone deeply gives you courage. -Lao Tze

The Closest Hit the Hardest

Thiam Kwee showed us a video sermon by John Bevere entitled "The Bait of Satan". It was only part I of a long series, and to be honest I wasn't interested, feeling a little feverish from the flu bug that has been circulating around. However, I must say I enjoyed the video, and two parts of it stood out to me. No, you don't have to watch it to understand what I'm writing here.

We know that the people closest to us hurt us the deepest. It's the people whom we open our hearts to, let down our defenses, allow them to see through us, that we are most vulnerable to. Sometimes, these people are not even chosen by us, like our family members. But they watch us grow up, know us inside out, know where it hurts most. The Psalmists knew that well, as shown in Psalms 55:13-15 (KJV).

For it was not an enemy that reproached me; then I could have borne it: neither was it he that hated me that did magnify himself against me; then I would have hid myself from him: But it was thou, a man mine equal, my guide, and mine acquaintance. We took sweet counsel together, and walked unto the house of God in company.

Thinking back, this is the risk of love. We loved God together, prayed together, walked together with conversations about our future and how we can make space for God to work. We suffered together, hurt together, cried together, laughed together. I saw you as my equal, I took you as my guide even as I was yours, and we learnt about God, about love, and about life together. In many ways, within such a short span of time I let you into the deepest, most intimate part of my life: My relationship with God. I don't know how you delved into it, I don't know what persuaded me to trust you with it, and most of all I don't know how you became a part of it. I only know you did. But if I were to do it all again, I would. Just for the pure pleasure of knowing that someone once understood and appreciated it, and maybe even loved me for it.

I did shed a few tears during the video actually. For a really insignificant part. A part that most people didn't think made an impact on them. It was when John Bevere said this, "Remember the time when you received Jesus into your life? I never felt so much love before! I was falling in love with everybody around me! I just wanted to love like I never loved before! It was like I had enough love to give the whole world. Nobody could offend me at that point of time, I felt like I could forgive anyone for anything."

Then I suddenly recalled the time when I gave my life to Christ. I was only 14, at a mass rally called "Earth, Wind, Fire", talking about something about Elijah and God speaking to him. No, the sermon didn't impact me. No, the worship wasn't that memorable. I only remembered a lady on a wheelchair coming up to me and asking if I would like to receive Christ into my life. I looked a little embarrassed and turned to my dad, who smiled encouragingly. Okay, to be honest I was skeptical. I didn't think that anything was going to happen. I mean, my Bible knowledge was better than quite a good number of people in the church, I was serving in various ministries, and my parents were (and still are, especially my dad) highly regarded for their spirituality. What could come out of a boy born and bred in a strict Christian family get out of a simple prayer to receive the Holy Spirit?

Boy was I wrong. I know what John Bevere felt like. Exactly. I had so much love just overflowing in me, and it didn't seem to stop. Kok Poh made a statement during the meeting which went like this, "I admire anyone who can not sin for a period of time. We all know how hard it is, I mean, how many of us can say we've not sin for a day before?" I looked at him and smiled secretly. From the moment I received Christ, I didn't sin for a week. There were urges, but nothing commited. I felt as light as air, I could fly. When they say that Jesus takes away your burdens, I think it means physical ones too. I genuinely felt lighter. Happier, wanting to please my parents and friends in ways that they didn't believe at first, but soon got use to. And the joy never left me, even in tumultuous events of my life. Happiness did come and go, yes. But joy never did leave once.

I don't mean to question Kok Poh or anyone about whether they genuinely received Christ into their life or not. But I know that Jesus changed my life. And the love that poured out from that day has never stopped flowing, and I pray it never will.

No, not even when the people closest to me hurt me. For love conquers all, even the most stubborn of hearts.


This one is for you, Wyne. Stand strong even when those closest hit us the hardest. Something good will always come out of it, for our future remains in the hands of One who loves us. +)






To love abundantly is to live abundantly; to love forever is to live forever. -Henry Drummond

My Obnoxious Dissatisfaction

Valentino enjoys walking down the glittery paths outside Amara Hotel. The little shiny stars on the floor that makes one feel like he or she is walking down the Hall of Fame.

It's April! He loves this month, and hates it at the same time. Your 21st is around the corner, and as the date draws close he can't help but think about you. He hadn't seen you for quite a while, wondering if you're okay. Then out of the blue, he spotted you sitting along one of the benches today at the AS1-AS6 walkway. He succumbed to the urge to tap your shoulder and say hi. But then a flash of imagination in which you looked disapprovingly, said hi out of formality, and return back to your work hurridly to avoid further conversation zoomed past his head. He paused, and his hand stopped short. Pulling back quickly in case someone noticed the awkwardness, his hand curled expertly to toss his hair, smiled towards the front, and kept on walking. His damned pride still can't take a rejection.





When he was very young, he used to be laughed at for stammering. Angry, he asked God why. God didn't reply, but now his eloquence scares him.

Then he began to help his mum carry groceries from the market. Everyone was friendly those days, but the kids who go all the compliments were those tall and lanky kids. Wanting a bit of the attention, he asked God to make him taller. God didn't reply, but then later, he realized that for much of his entire life, he was always one of the tallest in his class, if not the tallest. And he stopped growing at the perfect height for a young man to be, not like Yao Ming.

Then he began to go to nursery classes, and the teacher always gave stickers to those who got full marks for their tests. He wanted the stickers badly, but he never did well for tests. Frustrated, he asked God to "make him smart". God didn't reply, but looking back on his life, he'd always aced most of his tests (except Chinese) and his A-levels (which was what God did to allow him to find the subject he is now madly in love with).

Then he began to learn about what love is, and fell in love. Yes, at kindergarten. Girls around him didn't understand what it was like to love, but the moment they could, they always went for the cooler guys. Wanting to get some of that attention, he asked God why shouldn't he be cooler. God didn't reply, but he was never out of the "cool gang" again (with the exception of church and JC, church because you can't be cool when your dad is the Sunday School Principal, and JC coz God wanted to teach him a vital lesson by outcasting him from all possible cliques). The worse thing was, he even became the leader of many of those cool gangs, leaving quite a number stranded academically while he continued to ace his examinations. The fact that all of them still look up to him is beyond his own understanding.

Then he began to realize that being cool wasn't enough, it was the leaner, slimmer, muscular guys who were getting all the attention. As a pretty obese kid, he was teased for being "Vicfat" in primary school and "Ah Fat" in Catholic High and NJC. He never really minded, until his first break-up in JC, where his first love left him for another man who was, as he thought, every way worse than he was except in weight (and eyesight). Again, he blamed God for making him fat, saying that God can't change anything since both his parents were on the meatier side. God didn't reply, but threw him into BMT and later OCS, where he lost an amazing 25kg. His dad also later showed him old photographs where the old man used to be underweight during his undergraduate days in UK. So it wasn't a genetic problem after all.

In OCS, he went clubbing pretty often to destress with his friends, and his charm did get him places. But the ladies, while talking to him, always had their eyes on the handsome, feature-beautiful men on the opposite side of the room. In a way, it saved him coz he never did get to experience a one night stand, but he did complain about his pimple-filled complexion. He had it since Primary 3, and while his friends who started having pimples at Primary 6 finished their "pimply" stage by Sec 3, he was still struggling with it during army. Blaming God for being unfair, he demanded for an explanation. Once again, God didn't reply, but the moment he commissioned from OCS, he never had a major problem with pimples again. Even from certain angles and lighting, his complexion is near perfect and scarless. His features began to stand out, and he even got to participate in a pageant, something he never dreamed of his whole life. For the record, he even won a prize there.

Now, he's frustrated because he thinks he's poor. He isn't, really, coming from a middle-class family with an above average education level. He can even socialize with those of the elite circle, blending neatly with his general knowledge and social skills, passing off more than adequately as someone of their status or higher. But because his "richer" friends in school are seemingly having all the luck with the ladies, and because money is needed to update to the latest fashion, play expensive sports and eat out at expensive places, money suddenly seems to be the key. A flashy sports car, hair from the top stylists and gadgets that cost a bomb always attracts attention, and he knows it full well.






SOMEBODY SLAP HIM PLEASE IF HE DARES ASK GOD WHY HE SHOULDN'T BE RICHER.

BASTARD.









He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have. -Socrates