My friends always call me "silly", in an affectionate way, of course.
Sometimes, they call me gullible, thinking that I seem to believe in anything and everything they say.
Frankly, i can't do anything about the "silly" bit of the equation. I can't help it! I don't know what my mum ate when she was carrying me, but whatever she ate really left its legacy on me.
Gullibility, in my defence, is about my faith in possibilities in this world of boundless possibilites.
But seriously, I don't care what you think about me. I really don't.
Now will you add being "conceited" to the list that describes me?

What They Call Fate..

They asked her, " Did you feel sad learning about it?"
She replied, :Yeah. Of course. Sad."
Afterall, that was a bittersweet past for her.
But now, significant not the past is. Best explained as something that was not meant to be.
The only explanation that could make her move on with life at that point.
Chapter closed. Like many other chapters.
As nondescript as everyone else's chapters...

Bratherhood Talk...

Warning: Content may not be suitable for consumption for infants.
Qualifier: The author did not intend this to be a risque blog entry.

We were having dinner and discussing Yoke's wedding plans. She, of all colours, had to choose yellow as the theme colour for her traditional wedding ceremony in the morning. So all of us had to wear yellow. But we didn't quite have yellow dresses. And because of that, somehow, the conversation drifted into nonsense and we started talking about each of us wearing something yellow at different parts of our bodies since we had no yellow dresses.
So, I, in the name of good spirit, just blurted out, "Oh, then i shall wear yellow bra."
Yoke burst out laughing, " You mean you have yellow bra?"
Without batting an eyelid, i gave a matter-of-factly "yes", the kind of "yes" you'd say when people ask you if you eat rice, or if you sleep, or if you read the papers.
The other two ladies were rather amused by my answer and started contributing to the laughter decibal in a rather quiet restaurant.
"Yellow bra? Hahaha...Who on earth wears yellow bra?"
More laughter.
The ambience -- needless to say, thanks to them -- had nothing to be spoken of.
"Eh, don't tell me you have a green bra too?" Yoke asked casually and jokingly.
"Yeah I do."
A very pregnant pause followed.
Silence. Telepathy between the three of them began and in synchonicity, they burst out laughing.
Thunderbolt laughter that was. It was as if the three of them heard the greatest joke of the century, or even the millennium.
I laughed together with them.
But not because I thought I'm a weirdo, having "weird"-coloured bras and therefore deserved to be laughed at.
I found it amusing that they found it so amusing. I was tickled by their amusement.
On a serious note, I think there's really nothing wrong with my penchant for colourful bras. I like them in varied designs and colours.
Lacy. Polka dotty. Sweet. Sporty. Cute.
Pink. Green. Yellow. Orange. Bluish-green. Brown.
Yes. I have them all. I just like variety and colour. They keep me happy and perky.
So, what's wrong with keeping myself happy? :P
Maybe you should try it too.
Afterall, people say that in order to be happy, everything gotta start from WITHIN.

Flashes: Japan

Observe. Observe. Observe.
Arghh. Heck. Just do it.
You won't know how it works until you get into the action.
Balance. Balance. Oh-woohhh. Piak!
Get up now. Ahhhhh. Struggle.
My ankles are twisted. I'm flat on a slope.
I feel like a baby. I don't know how to get up.
Clumsy. I can't get up.
Use your abs now. Push yourself up.
Good. I'm finally up.
Balance. Balance. Piak!
Get up. I'm gonna conquer this.
Piak!
Got up.
Piak!
Grrrrrr. I'm gonna do this.
Piak!
Got up.
Piak! Ouch!!! That hurts!
Cool. Balance. I'm cruising down the slope.
Balance.
Piak!
Snowboarding.
Piak! Piak! Piak! Piak! Piak!

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It's heaven on earth. Or maybe, it's earth on heaven. Which is which. I can't decide.
Its beauty, indescribable.

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Feeling relaxed. Finally managed to flip the papers at the hostel. Massacre in Congo. Sad. Very sad. A son was killed in cold blood in front of his mother. The UN showed its incompetence again. A pang of guilt resided in me. By that stroke of luck, i didn't become one of them, constantly living in fear of what the next day might bring. I was enjoying myself in Japan. Mind started to wonder. Can i make a difference to their lives? We really can't wait for OTHERS (whoever is that?!?!) to help because help never seems to arrive. Can i make a difference, my short time on earth? How can we help? Help with their basic right to be alive. What gave the aggressors the right to kill? Your mother. His father. Her son. Their children.
Anger.
How can we help?

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Trips always make me think. Like what Avenue Q talked about, what's your purpose in life?
Some people's purpose is to be living examples of how life should not be lived. Others, to aspire people to live like them. Recently, the idea of helping people is popping into my mind more frequently. I need to rethink my life again. Music is a great part of my life. But is there something greater out there for me to achieve?
I wonder.

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