In a future age.

Wow.

It is like I went to sleep on the first of the month, only to find myself waking up on the thirtieth; the world is still spinning madly, threatening to toss me off like a broken rag doll, and I feel disoriented: out of place, out of sight, out of mind.

Obviously, I had not paused to smell the roses. Instead, I must have subconsciously chosen to bulldoze my way through and leave behind a trail of scattered, irretrievable memories in my haste. And that I am not happy with, for certainly there has got to be more to life than this.

And so, one question that featured prominently on my mind for the whole of today was this:

Where the hell did June go?

Fences.

When presented in a direct, non-convoluted way – like a scrolling news ticker at the bottom of a busy screen, or bright flashing neon lights on an empty street – with the number of words limited due to a sore lack of space, effectively narrowing down your choice of words even more…

… it is always the simplest facts that make the most impact, and yet it hardly stops the planet from continuing its dizzying spin on its axis.

The baby is crying, the world is dying, the star is fading.

Four words rocked the world two days ago. Somehow, I also remember watching the Thriller music video and being strangely fascinated by it back then.

Still, I am reminded that more often than not, we are usually the ones that make it all look harder than it really is.

So. Why can the sky not be blue forever? If only things could be simpler than this.

Always the same, I know.

Slow march, flighty tunes, heavy sighs, light staccatos, delicate twangs, solemn words.

A lone, lightly-placed note that comes on gently in the midst of the flowing harmonies and soaring choruses makes all the difference. It is not included there as a careless afterthought, but simply because it belonged. Like a compass point, north is where the heart is: it drives you home, safe and sound, where bear hugs envelope you and warm mugs of hot chocolate await you.

Then there is magic – the sprinkling of fairy dust, the slight tingling of the heart; of longing and wanting, anticipating absolutely nothing but for this to go on.

I might just melt into a puddle if I were to one day bear witness to hearing this beautiful song played live.

I should’ve made it matter.

Violet dreams.

It was a cool night. The sun lent its light to the moon, which bore down weak rays visible only in the inky black darkness befitting a time near midnight. Four girls having a leisurely stroll down the road, taking time off algebra, lecture notes and stuffy university hostel rooms for jokes, gossip and heart-to-heart conversations.

“So,” one of the girls ventured, “who, among us four, will get married first?”

Laughter ensued: we pointed fingers at one another, creating wild theories and producing elusive answers. We were seven years younger then, harbouring romantic fantasies and intimate secrets known only to our teenage-cum-young-adult selves.

But I think we got it right that night.

Yesterday, I attended her wedding.

Looking at her lighting up the room in her resplendent white gown and perfectly coiffed hair, taking small dainty steps akin to a pixie’s graceful dance… it was difficult to ignore the pockets of happiness and nostalgia permeating the atmosphere, like an infinite supply of yesterday’s bubble wraps that seemingly could go on popping merrily forever and ever.

“Teeheehee. This is my husband,” she winked shyly at me while we were taking pictures together on the dais.

Damn, we have come a long way, have we not?

To top it all off, I watched a bridesmaid fiddling with her 27 dresses and fighting off her suitor’s charming smile on TV that same night, and ended up feeling even more sorry for myself.

Here comes everybody.

5.40am Yawn.
7.25am The purchase receipt failed to print from the petrol pump, again.
7.30am Parked the car. Big Boss arrived at the same time, yikes – I better take the stairs.
8.14am Found out that someone messed up. Again. Someone’s incompetence has left me feeling suicidal.
8.17am @self How would it feel like to jump off the fourth floor?
8.21am Crisis averted, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this slip by quietly.
8.45am First task of the day done.
9.00am #jaybennett Thinking about Jay. That piece of news was unexpected to say the least.
10.13am Twiddling thumbs.
10.45am Decides to take the plunge. Need. To. Rant. Before. Self. Explodes.
11.33am @self Is this going to be a good day?
12.21pm Second task comes comes in. Lunch in 10 minutes or so.
1.10pm More work coming in. Boy, when it rains, it sure pours.
2.45pm Wonder why I always get picked for company feedback sessions…
3.32pm Buried under tons of work. Decides to go bug a fellow colleague for a bit. This could be stress…
4.11pm @boss Sure, let’s have a discussion on life, the universe and everything. Tomorrow.
5.32pm Finally. Leaving for the day. Amused to find near-empty cubicles all around.
6.14pm It’s longest-night-market day, and at this hour, I’m surprised that the traffic is still bearable.
8.15pm Looking at picture albums on Facebook and laughing at shots of colleagues from their yesteryears.
8.21pm … and of their recent (and fun) business trip. Dang.
9.45pm #jaybennett Still thinking about Jay and how it would have been if he were still in Wilco.
10.20pm And you wonder why I do not yet have a Twitter account.

(You can tell just how fake this is, and how I absolutely will not be able to last long with all this broadcasting of itsy bitsy details of my life to all on the planet.)

Down the avenue.

I must say I had initial doubts about the name. It reminded me of Red Riding Hood.

Why would they choose such a long and funny name, I wondered. But it has its charms – it is unique, easy to remember, and is definitely one name that will long stick to the minds of those who braved the crowds and hot weather this weekend in search of wonderful bargains.

And so, as soon as I stepped into the area and saw books, books, and more books!!! arranged neatly on the tables according to category, their spines with titles all turned facing upwards for easy visibility, I could not think straight. Logic and rationale went out the window immediately.

“Need a box, miss?” he waved at me.

I looked at the five books I had with me then and decided I was fine, as compared to others around me who, I think, might be wishing that they had developed advanced agility skills in Books Balancing in Warehouse Sales 101. (Dexterity: +2)

Besides, what would be the odds of picking a good book off every table there? (Apparently pretty high at this warehouse sale, as I was soon to find out for myself.) I was not looking for anything in particular, but various interesting titles jumped out at me and the general consensus in my head was mostly this: TAKE IT! TAKE IT! (Luck: +1)

However, barely an hour later, I found myself either forgoing or letting go of some books from my grasp to make room for others. (Dexterity: -5)

Oh, sod it. What was I thinking when I turned down the offer extended from the courteous sales staff earlier for a box to hold my books?! (Wisdom: -8)

I promptly went to collect an empty (and suitable, size-wise) box for my books, and again attacked the many books available – this time, with renewed delight but with a slight hint of worry – because having a box means having more books than I can handle, and that can be both good and bad…

Now I am home nursing aches on both arms and legs from the workout I had had today for the sake of new reading materials. Most of the titles available were fairly recent, yet going at such affordable prices. The condition of the books could be better though…

Previously:
2005: #1 / 2006: #1 / 2007: #1, #2, #3 / 2008: #1

Lost sanctity.

Fact #1: This particular strip was first published in May 1989.
Fact #2: The strips concerning this series is currently being re-run in a national daily.
Fact #3: The break-in took place last week.

The timing is so uncanny, there is nothing funny nor comical about it.

I will tell you this – it has been one week now, and this still feels like a nightmare I am hoping to awake from. There are some dreams that linger around invitingly like a sweet scent on a summer’s breeze; well, this one has been sticking around for far too long, overstaying its welcome. Not that it was even welcomed at all in the first place.

Items taken were mostly of sentimental value, and it is only now that I realise that every item in this house has (perhaps “had” would be more applicable in my case) a story. Here. Look around you now.

The slender blue vase on your dining table, a product of a fun, five-hour long shopping trip at Ikea on the day before your childhood friend was due to leave the country for good in search of greener pastures. Oh, those were the days.

The little bracelet that lets out tiny tinkles when the golden teddy bears circling it hug each other, fit only for a one-month-old you. Oh, how we were once young.

The ticket stubs to fabulous concerts across the causeway, where you rocked along to your favourite bands’ tunes, only to return to work the next day nursing a sore throat. Oh, what fun we have had.

And now those sort of stories have been taken away from me, leaving only black gaping voids in my life’s history, partly to be filled by a fading memory.

Truly, we do not know what we have got until it is gone.

Picture/Source: “Calvin & Hobbes” (May 1989), by Bill Watterson. Complete archive here.