Complicated Hearts...anyone?

"Love is patient..."- 1 Corinthians 13:4

School starts on thursday. Goodbye to afternoon naps, idle days and reading fiction. For those who will not know what I am going to write about, scroll down to the video below Constantine. Do watch it before you move on from here, things will be easier to comprehend.

Seen it? If you're in the mood to think, let's ask a few questions, shall we?

My friend asked this question first: Is love ever so generous? One man gave up his youth, just to wait for her. The other gave her up, because he knew she still loved him. If loving someone means giving him/her up to another, is there really true happiness for yourself? We give up many times because letting go seems the right thing to do. To start life afresh, so the cliche goes, but as we agonized over that special someone, did we think hard enough about them or ourselves? I'm not sure about the female perspective, but I do know that men can give someone up just because she isn't pretty enough, even when all the other reasons are right for the both of them to be together.

No wonder, the girls always think we are shallow cads.

There is an irony between the logical and the emotional. We are encouraged to give up someone that isn't worth our affections to wait for someone who is. Have we missed the point? A person who waits, will never give up so easily, but the one who lets go will never wait. If we let go, does that mean we have not been patient enough? Did we allow circumstances to change our feelings? When I saw the old man who waited for 40 years, I realized that patience was a virtue. My friends waited, and now they have finally got their chance.

For a guy, patience is often lacking. We do not realise how much it pays because the road never seems to end. She never let you go, she just didn't say anything. Was it wise to speculate and let your imagination run wild? The only time it feels foolish is when she told you, with a ring in a hand, that it is all over. If you wait, you are only deluding yourself.

Suddenly, I remembered the book I have read since I was little. The Bible is controversial because church clergy use obscure looking words to tell you what is right and wrong. If you're really into poetry and philosophy (get fuzzy), ignore the legalism of the people that preach their lungs out each Sunday. You will find that its actually a beautiful piece of work, which no other human (living or dead) has come close to writing. Its a pity we're so stupid, we actually might have mis-read so many of its wisdom over the centuries.

The verse defines what love is. It begins with the word 'patience' and ends with 'perservere.' Spot-on? Well, most waiters do win, so why not we ask them?

'Stale mates'

Eight amazing years, one person used to remark about such a friendship. I think for my case, if one continues to live in the past, it does seem glorious. After all, we treasured the best times together, sharing weal and woe. The irony is, has time made us closer, or are we keeping it together for old time's sake?

Since I was advised not to pass judgements, I shall not play the blaming game. However, I do believe, the only reason we are together is because he is still around. It makes sense, since we would not have bonded if not for him. Even until today, it feels awkward hanging out with each other in his absence. There is something amiss, but there is still much to hold onto whenever he steps into the picture. At the end of the day, it isn't about who is the king, the general or even the jester in the group. The only thing that truly mattered were the bonds he painstakingly forged between each and everyone of us.

Deep inside, I still hope for the day I can share that understanding with the rest of the guys, even though it presently seems bleak for all of us. In a way, I am thankful that he helped me bury long kept grudges that few people would dare to face up to. I have disagreed with everyone of them, but he never failed to make me see things through their eyes. Unfortunately, like most people, we do not learn from our mistakes. The same goes for old friends like us, old habits do die hard. I assumed too much, trusted too much and now I find myself at the crossroads of a friend who left us years ago, vexing over the same thing.

I am disappointed. He promises that he will try to find a way to work things out. Still, it isn't about him anymore. Its between me and his friend. If we could just live life simply, with no strings attached. Is that too much too ask?

Do not assume that we can let bygones be bygones, just because of the creed that 'friends matter.' Eight years ago, you did the same thing to him, and he left us all, what makes you think I have forgotten about that? I have refrained from pointing the finger at you all this while, even when my mind tells me I should. As a friend, I trusted you and I helped you. I supported you in the midst of my own doubts. Now you have screwed up big time. Should I blame you for not delivering the goods? By keeping quiet about it, do you think it explains away everything? GD has told me to hang in there, to keep the remnants of trust I still have in you, but it seems you can't even save yourself now. I do feel sorry for you, because it seems the more you want to get your life up the worse it becomes.You chase foolish dreams that detach you from the real life out there. Please, do not make it worse by making your friends lose their faith in you...

Waiting for you

"如果你快乐不是为我, 会不会放手其实才是拥有...."-五月天

He first laid eyes on her in college. She was a pretty young thing, and the rest of the guys were infatuated with her. They knew each other through mutual friends. When she first saw him, she told her friend, a guy like him would always be unlucky in love. Perhaps there was some truth in those words.

They became close friends, but she never knew the true feelings he felt for her. For her, he never had the 'head over heels' experience. She appeared cold and stuck up. There were many who expressed their love, yet she could never give a damn. He found that part of her attractive and intriguing. He wondered if something vulnerable laid behind the strong facade. That thought lingered in his mind for as long as he could remember.

In front of the crowds, she was a wild child. She seemed happy everytime she partied. At times, when the mood was right, she didn't mind having flings with the men who showered her with gifts and sweet nothings. In her lonely moments, she called him to talk. At times conversations were brief, but there were other nights when she shared everything with him. He made an effort to listen, even writing down the things she said in his diary.

She did fall in love, but not for him. There were a few people she was truly attracted to. They were beautiful people, for they looked good together. Sadly, these relationships did not last. She was too complicated, they said. No one took the time to understand her. She cried many times on his shoulder, and one night he asked her if he had a chance. She laughed. It all seemed like a joke to cheer her up.

He tried to forget her. He graduated and buried himself in his work as a photographer. He even tried dating someone else, but feelings were just different. They could never inspire him the way she could. Indeed, time took the both of them further apart. He traveled to many places, learning to live life for himself. He never married, much to his parents dismay. They tried matchmaking whenever he came back to visit. The older he was, the less interested he became.

Years passed, and he heard nothing from her. In an interview, he said that fame and success brought him much loneliness. His pictures were about life, still his own life seemed incomplete.

He came back to his own country, when they finally brought his work to a national exhibition. He decided to drop by and see the place for himself. It was a weekday, there were not many people viewing his work. He saw a woman and a little boy standing in front of his favorite picture. It was a pair of hands with painted nails. It was the only picture he kept of her, and she was looking at it.

"Oh my god, it's really you!"

"Yeah, with more white hair and a beard. Hope I don't look too ugly with that.."

"No...You look great. So how long will you be here?"

"Couple of months, I guess, for my mom's sake. So who is that handsome young man, hiding behind?"

The little boy peered through her jeans.

"Oh I'm so sorry...This is my son Tristan. Tristan say hello to uncle."

For a while, disappointment left him deaf.

"Hello young man. So where is daddy?"

"Erm, he passed away before Tristan was born.."

"Oh..I'm sorry. "

"No its fine...really"

A moment of silence. For all his wit and charm, she was the only one who could get him tongue-tied. He hated the fact that his timidity did not die with age.

"Oh I better get going. Got another appointment elsewhere. You take care, enjoy the photos ok?"

"Yup...you too"

"Erm, by the way... would you mind having dinner with me this weekend?"

"Of course not, but shouldn't you ask for my number first?"

She smiled at him, as he laughed at himself. He wasn't so unlucky after all.

Got milk?

Stout, Songs about Jane and sporadic bouts of depression. Merry Valentine's to the melancholic ones. It is the fateful day for romance, where couples feel the pain in their pockets and singles suffer in their hearts. Hahaha...

The swim today levelled my thoughts. It was crowded, for the scorching sun was up. But what were all the beefcakes and male model wannabes doing there? They should be out making great love to their bimbo girlfriends right? Instead, they were flaunting their "thorpedo" skills in the water. If they are so obsessed with their bodies, the girl would likely get obsessed with one that doesn't look as good. Gentlemen may prefer blondes, but hot babes fall for nerdy jerks.

After my laps were over, I made my way to 7-11 for a packet of HL milk. I have no preference for the flavor (vanilla, chocolate or banana), so usually they are chosen based on the current mood of the day. So the chocs were out of stock, my options were narrowed. It made more sense to pick the bananas, after all I did feel an affinity for it even before I stepped into the store. At the end of the purchase, it got me thinking: perhaps my love life is just like choosing flavored milk? They are packed with nutrients, but I can't make up my mind. After all, flavors flow with feeling. This flavor makes your monday, while another gets you in the mood for the weekend. I feel confused by choice, so maybe I'm not ready to drink MILO for the rest of my days yet...

I smiled to myself as I sipped on the cold banana flavored HL. It felt heavenly and enlightening. I finally knew why women have lower levels of calcuim then guys.

We have been drinking too much milk.

Annie are you ok?

It takes a while for each picture to fall off the pyramid of dreams. Let's just say that the mask takes hallucinations to the edge, but I hope it all blacks out soon. Once again, any semblance to characters living or dead is a mere coincidence.

I held the infant girl in my arms. She was 8 months old, chubby, fair with round puppy eyes like her mother. She wore an oversized 'Spongebob' tee and drooled all over it. Everything to her was a novelty, her stubby fingers and tiny teeth never ceasing to explore the world.

"Her mom's coming soon, but she seems comfortable here"

Sophie was holdng a rattle in front of the girl. People have wondered if we ever dated, but since I suffered from chronic depression, she seemed to be more of a nurse than a girlfriend. I told Sophie that she deserved someone better, but her hectic life had drastically shrunk her social circle. After all, it wouldn't be nice if she knew I had a crush on her mom.

If only life was much simpler, we used to wonder. Generations evolved and feelings got more complicated. Marriage was no longer a simple vow of love and commitment. You could even have perfect kids made in a tube. Technology took a great leap forward, culture started degrading. A few of us even lost the ability to write a decent language with our pens.

I believed I inherited a portion of father's technophobia. Before I turned 30, I forgot how to play computer games. I could play the ancient zither, but there was an aversion to sound mixers, electric guitars and even turntables. I adored pictures, so I forced myself to stay in touch with photo technology, but Sophie still had to edit them for publication online.

As the years passed, my modest home turned into a museum. Visitors asked me if those display robots were gifts from our alien envoys. Few knew we imagined the future even before we saw it. There was a time we held infiinty on the edge of our dreams. It was more complete when diversity dominated the fabric of existence.

"Yes, she is excited at everything here, since it looks nothing like what she has elsewhere." I replied. The girl's young mind was taking in all the images. A pity they may never be coded permanently for the first year of a person's life.

"Ok..time for little Annie to go" Her mother's face appeared on the door screen. She was in those cars with residence connectivity. Internet took over everything, even the doorbells.

I carried Annie down, making an exit from the lift lobby. I dreaded to look at those solar cars with automatic navigation, it was like having lifeless robots for cabbies.

"For someone who hated to drive on a manual gear, you sure seem to be taking this wheel pretty well" I remarked in jest.

"Oh please, spare me your nonsense. Put her in safely on the baby seat will you? Thanks."

I clipped on the belt for Annie. She had stopped biting the magic cube I gave her, but she was frowning. I bet she could sense the normal life coming back to her. I stared at the pretty girl for one last time. No question about it, she was going to be more happening than her mom ever was.

"So Annie, who wrote Messiah?"

"Handel..." she chuckled.

"What did she just say?" her mother exclaimed.

"More than you will ever know" I replied.

'Risk Addiction'

Hello, hello. The wait is almost over. I first saw the prequel on TV one night. Of course, according to censorship standards here, it was heavily cut. No nudity, no violence and not enough blood. The reduced effects did no justice to the holy grail of erotic thrillers. All the cuts only made the plot more confusing, but still I stayed glued to my couch, watching an evil femme fatale by the the name of Sharon Stone 'ice-pick' her victims to death.

A few years later, as I journeyed (sailed, to be more precise) away from the puritan influence of my family, I found the un-rated version for sale on the streets of a country torn apart by poverty and politics. It was a stag gathering, so here we were, inside our cabins, savouring this film as the ship cruised through the dark stormy sea. Unfortunately everyone else slept halfway through the screening.

The reason was simple : Basic Instinct was never pornography.

In fact, watching the entire uncut version made me understand why it eventually became an icon. Before Stone played Catherine Trammel, there wasn't any woman in film who had that disturbing combination, of insanity, intelligence and sex appeal. It took the concept of erotica to unprecedented levels. For those pubescent males (myself included), she literally epitomized 'the bad girl you wanted to bed, but could never have' Talking about learning first lessons, I almost had the habit of checking my bed for sharp objects each night.

Its taken the reel guys 14 years to give bith to a sequel. I wonder if the 'sexually reverred' Ms Stone still has the poisons to charm audiences in the box office, given the prevalent skepticism of today's media critics. It maybe disappointing since acclaimed director Paul Verhoeven isn't at the helm (I personally feel his work in "Hollow man" was pretty mindblowing), still the alleged fact that 'there isn't going to be a body double' is reason enough to erect expectations right? So let's just keep our legs crossed, for now.