the phone
on the table
is never quite
the same again.
not after what
the pink watch
has done
just by being.
the crooked line
has straightened
while the grey
has so darkened.
08
May
no longer
I stared ahead,
at the newly paved paths,
unmarred by footsteps and bicycle marks.
I looked back to a track,
well-used and forlorn.
I looked down,
and saw my feet planted where it meets.
Do I step forward and leave my mark?
Do I go back and live in the past?
My first post for In Conversation! I feel bad ‘cos its kinda recycled. I made some changes to it and its also on my own personal blog. Anyway the story behind it is posted on my blog. Exit Mortality(its on the blog roll). I’ve got a short story in mind and all I need is to put it in ink and paper so hopefully that’ll be my next post. I’m just too busy these days with the JAE posting and the anxious waiting for my enrollment package from Singapore Poly and work.(I got into my 2nd choice! Integrated Events and Projects Management! Yay me!)Bleah. So umm, see you around guys and keep up with the contributions!
Janessa
20
Jan
gae - hope u’ll enjoy
i … have a story blog.
read it if u have time~~~ and give me some comments..
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeem.. the stories are in chinese.
not being racist but.. i find writing in chinese is more easy for me coz i speak chinese at home~ seldom english. but it’s conversable~ :X
07
Jan
Not anyone … but you.
In times of anger, I frown.
Who wants to be upset?
Not me.
In times of misery, I frown.
Who wants to be troubled?
Not me.
In times of disappointment, I frown.
Who wants to be let down?
Not me.
In times of loneliness, I frown.
Who wants to be alone?
Not me.
In times of vengeance, I frown.
Who wants to inflict hurt?
Not me.
Laugh or cry, happy or sad?
You make the choice.
Not me.
07
Jan
quit
it’s just so hard to swallow the pain so early on. the sparks of the future has probably dissipated. the amount of recovery is infinite. so do me a favour - don’t do me a favour.
03
Jan
gae - Brand New Year!
Happy New Year!!
let’s write down our resolutions!
i will ….
1. sleep early (i sleep quite late like… 3am?)
2. save up money for overseas trip
3. get my diploma in business
4. get a boyfriend :p (i wish~)
well, thats my resolutions for now. i would add on sometime later. 
so… whats your resolutions?
did u see the fireworks at marina bay(new stadium)?
it’s AWESOME! pretty.. beautiful.. marvellous..
plus! wont u feel good when u’re celebrating with… mm… thousands of people? people gathered at the back of esplanade, on the grass.
Oooow… i love that feeling.
althought we dont know each other, we still would wish every others a “HAPPY NEW YEAR”!
this year will be a good year. 
PROMOTE THIS WEB!
more people could see our writtings! who0 h0o!
Happy 2008!
31
Dec
it will be
slow and steady.
that’s how this project has started here.
give us some time.
hope it has been a good 2007 for you.
It was a lousy ending to the day. George was dusty and somewhat muddy. He paced around his living room, flinging sweat onto his furniture, as he cursed the bureaucrats who had shut off the water supply. It really wasn’t the Utility Board’s fault. They had informed him via posted mail. He remembered belatedly the contents of the letter.
“Dear Occupant,
We are sorry to inform you that your water supply would be cut from 8pm, August 08 2006 to 8am, August 09 2006 for the purpose of upgrading existing blah bleah up yours, worthless slave blah bleah blah …
We apologise for the inconvenience caused.
The Utility Board
Providing for the Nation’s Needs”
It didn’t help George one whit. He was faced with spending the night picking grey dirtballs from his armpits and smelling his own stench. All he needed was a quick shower somewhere. At this thought, his eyes widened as he remembered a 24-hour swimming pool with shower facilities. It was merely 15 minutes away.
Hurriedly, he crammed his shower essentials into an old travelling bag, threw open the front door and slammed it shut behind him.
George squeezed through a path between a gaping canal and the backyards of murky houses. He heard occasional cars whoosh from place to place in the distance. “Drunks and losers.” He thought. George laughed at himself: they weren’t the ones who were heading to a public shower in the middle of the night. Immediately, he felt self-conscious. “If anyone looked out now, they’ll see a homeless tramp.” George thought he looked the part too, a grubby man who carried his only possessions in a ratty bag.
He made a left turn out of the path and jogged up a flight of cracked steps. An old big tree overshadowed his ascent. He kept his head down to avoid the long ropey tendrils that swayed from the shadowy branches. George rounded the tree, tip-toeing over thick twisted roots that haphazardly radiated outwards, and scurried for the streetlights ahead.
The pool and its showers were just down the street and past the bend. There weren’t any houses here, just a road dotted with streetlights and cordoned by bent wire fences running in parallel to the road. George, intent on getting his shower, did not notice the police car slide up next to him.
He stopped. So did the car.
A tinted window rolled downwards to reveal the ugliest face that George had ever seen. Thick, cracked lips bordered around a half-gaping mouth while the rest of the face was squashed upwards into a perpetual squint. George wanted to slap the face back into the car. It had no place in this world.
“Evening” Ugly intoned. He was a tuneful baritone “Where are you going to?” Every word was enunciated perfectly.
“It’s going to sound strange, officer.” He gave a tiny laugh. “I’m going to the swimming pool to take a shower.” George stole a glance at the driver. All he could see were massive hocks of meat on the steering wheel.
“Really?” Ugly snorted disbelievingly. It even sounded good. “Step back please”
George followed orders.
The door clicked and swung open. Ugly stepped out. His uniform sagged sadly on his frame and flapped whenever a breeze blew. Idly, George wondered if living skeletons were possible. The policeman’s utility belt hung impossibly huge around his waist.
“Well then. What’s in the bag? Could you open it for us?”
The other door opened and revealed Meat Hocks. The resemblance to the Incredible Hulk on steroids was uncanny. The big man rested his elbows on the car roof. It dented slightly. George gulped in a deep breath as he cowed under the other’s stare.
Slowly, George unzipped the bag and held it open by the handles. He turned the bag towards them and showed off its interior.
“Freeze! Don’t move!” Ugly and Meat Hocks had pulled out their service revolvers. They looked ridiculous. Meat Hock handled the gun like a squirt pistol while Ugly trembled under the weight of the revolver. Still, George froze. His eyelid twitched under their stares.
Ugly snarled “I said. Don’t move!”
George’s mind was whirling. “What’s wrong with these guys?! What’s in my bag?”
“I’m not moving.” He shivered. “Look, I’m not doing anything.”
“Don’t move!” Ugly roared.
George shouted back “I’m not moving!”
Meat Hocks squeezed his squirt pistol. It bellowed.
“Such a loud sound from so small an object” thought George. He sat down heavily, flooding the pavement with urine. His bag tumbled to the ground; vomiting toiletries, towel and clean clothes around him. Abstractly, he wondered where he was hurt and how large was the exit wound.
He waited for pain. Tears scoured his cheeks, leaving clean tracks behind. He was going to die unwashed and smelly on a dirty pavement. He waited for pain. Where was it? It was late in coming.
George haltingly looked down at himself, expecting to find ripped gulfs in him. There weren’t any. He smelled gunpowder but it wasn’t on him. Meat Hocks smiled. It was full of cavities. The brute squeezed into his side of the car.
George tried to reach for Ugly but his legs were locked into place. Ugly saw what he was doing and laughed. He jabbered gibberish to Meat Hocks. And they roared raucously. George blushed and tried to reach for Ugly once more.
He missed. Ugly stepped into the car. He winked at George as if they were in together on some big secret. They drove away with the windows wound down. George could hear their mean laughter and gibberish floating back to him. He couldn’t understand them at all but he remembered that he could once upon a time. He couldn’t remember why he was here.
George sat there for a long time, his hand still reaching out to an absent assailant. His dirty face streaked clean by tears. It was a lousy ending to the day.
17
Dec
Vignette 1
Oh, why must there be blood on his hands? They’ll find him out and send him away again. He should have refrained. But instinct reacted before thought advised. He should scram from the hospital but somehow the floor tiles were too interesting for him to leave.
“Excuse me” The worry in it cut deeply into his preoccupation.
“Yes?” He looked up slowly.
It was a lady in frumpled clothes. She seemed to him like a cat caught out too long in the rain; sodden and deeply unhappy.
“They said you saved my girl.” She sat next to him and placed her hand on his arm. Her face displayed a tattoo of anxiety. “You held her together until they took her here.”
He nodded. The fluorescent lights swam. There. Not there.
“She needs you.” He flinched. “You’re the same blood type as she is. She needs a blood transfusion.” How did she know his blood type?
“The blood banks are empty.” Her grip hardened. “Please.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?” He squirmed.
“No.” Silly, stupid man. Would she have come otherwise? He wanted to plead defiance and leave. His throat and muscles wouldn’t obey. Her hand was still on him, a great weight despite its slenderness.
She got up and pulled on his arm. “Come with me.” His seat ripped away from him; plastic on skin Velcro.
She pulled again. It lifted him to his feet and in tow behind her.
“Come.”
***
“We’re making mummies.” He thought.
There were bandages everywhere in the room that they’ve come to; in piles next to algae-coloured safari beds, as neat rolls on surgical trolleys but mostly wrapped around people on the beds. Their pained moans drummed summonings for nurses and doctors who attended to them in a rush; pushing aside and snapping impatience at visitors with each pass.
The duo stood by a makeshift bed. A young lady slept in it. Her chest was bandaged and there were ugly splints on her leg and arm. Cuts and abrasions showed wherever there was skin. She seemed whole. But he knew the ruin hidden under the gauzy strips. After all, he had pinched together, using his hands, the torn edges of her flesh earlier. Remembering his actions, it was enough for him.
He tried to retreat but his captor still clung onto his arm. She pulled him back to the bedside firmly, cooing gently “She needs your blood. Save her again. Please.”
A tiny red dot appeared on the bandages covering the lady’s sternum.
“I can’t. I have to go now.” He tried to retreat once more. Again, she prevented him “Please.” She cooed.
“My blood is bad!” He exploded. “It’s not a cure! I can’t save her that way!” He blinked and swung his head around; expecting to see a sudden lull but caregivers still rushed around and patients still moaned.
The dot slowly grew into an irregularly-shaped stain. A clean red stain.
“I know. The hospital knows. It’s ok.” He goggled at her “You wouldn’t be responsible for her after that. It’s ok.”
But it’s not. He spent so much effort hiding and containing his taint. Now, they wanted him to taint others? Fat chance. Yet, she’ll die now. If given his blood, she’ll have some time before it consumes her. She could do wonders with her life. Maybe there might even be a cure by then.
Maybe there might not be a cure.
“No. I can’t.” He disengaged her fingers from his arm and turned to leave.
“I can go now.” he thought, oddly happy in his decision.
“You bastard.” He didn’t turn around. That’s why he didn’t know what hit him. Only that he was on the floor and the side of his head felt remarkably numb and big.
“Bastard! Then why did you save her? Did you save her to die in front of me?! Bastard!” She slammed something into him. Pain screeched. He rolled around madly but the blows landed easily. Each one harder than the last and snapping things in him. No one came to stop her. He hissed at her with broken teeth but quieted soon after she’d shattered almost everything in him.
The young lady’s bandages were still stained. It had gone crusty maroon. A fat tube ran into her veins. It was transferring blood from newly dead to barely-alive. The lady in frumpled clothes slumped against the bed. She even managed a little smile.
12
Dec
Christmas Gifts
Round every street corner, one can see lots of Christmas decorations being put up at office buildings, malls and also at hospitals.
During this period of festivity, shoppers flock malls to buy that special gift for that special someone. Have you done the same? If you haven’t, its time to do so as Christmas day will be here before you know it. Do not use work as an excuse not to shop those malls, work can wait but expressing ones love, care and concern shouldn’t be second priority.
This morning at work, I received an email telling me of a gift exchange that will take place one week before Christmas. I had to draw a name from the many names in a box and buy whoever I picked a present. The challenge is this ; only a budget of S$10 and I immediately had my head thinking what I could get with that allocated sum. It wouldn’t be an easy task getting something within that budget and making sure the recipient receive it with a smile.
I thought of making something for him by buying some ‘raw materials’. I guess a gift made out from scratch is always a good memento but knowing my technical and arts skills, I didn’t think I would be able to do a good job.
At this moment, I remembered that a gift isn’t about the value or cost. Its about giving through the heart. The phrase ‘it’s the thought that counts’ immediately stayed in my mind. Is it really true that its the thought and not the gift? I get a little confused about a sentence that seem rather simple but profound in meaning.
Assuming someone gives you a watch with a design that you do not really fancy, would you still like the gift or use it? Chances are its likely placed in storage. How many of us would really use something that we do not like? Frankly not many.
Despite not liking the present, we still like the person whom took the time and effort to get us a present. I don’t think we would ever have the childish behaviour of not liking someone because of what that person gave us for Christmas right? We know queuing up at the cashier counter during Christmas sure takes a long time and squeezing into a crowded lift is no glamour experience.
Thus, I think I kind of now know the meaning behind ‘its the thought that counts’. Would you go through all the hassle just to get someone a gift if the person was just a stranger? I doubt it unless you have other motives.
Whatever it is, let’s treasure whatever is given to us. It doesn’t matter the cost and value behind the gift but just remember that the person giving you a present is willing to share the joy of Christmas with you and surely, there is a place in his or her heart just for you.
Merry Christmas and may you have a happy shopping spree for gifts to shower your family and friends this festive season …
