daddy daddy there's a thing in my room!

that's me quietly screaming when i fled to the living room. and being my dad, he immediately grabbed a magazine and made his way to the scene of the crime.

"what thing?" "i don't know. animal!"

he went directly to where i pointed and, a few seconds later, came the "whack whack" of paper meeting wooden flooring.

"wah where did this big cockroach come from? you want to see? what will you do if i'm not home? hide in a cupboard?"

everything happens for a reason


but sometimes, i really feel like asking,
"hello, don't you think you're making a big mistake here?"

writing about nothing

the straits times' ludicrous reporting (if one can even call it that) of "a link between gaming and violence?" (8 march 2009, page 3) got me boiling mad and filled with injustice.

it is insensitive to sensationalize a non-news by using the photographs of two men who recently made the news because of their deaths; it is unprofessional and unethical to create a story out of thin air since no concrete evidence has been found to suggest that gaming was the cause of these deaths; the experts' opinions in no way suggested that gaming and violence were linked (in fact, they concurred that it is rare that playing video games will cause aggressive behaviour).

this article was unnecessary and unjustified. "reporters" jamie ee, mavis toh, huang huifen, and the straits times personnel who allowed it to go to print - shame on you.

we are much too young


well, it feels that way at least.

we were, at best, acquaintances. the occasional hi-bye at parties, tons of mutual friends, exchanges of smiles when we happened to pass by each other. his disappearance caused quite a stir end of last year, there was much speculation but nobody really knew what was going on. still, it comes as a shock. the finality of it all. for one who had such a bright future ahead of him.

whatever it was, allan, i hope you're now at peace.

there's something therapeutic...

...about sitting by my window, watching fighter jets zoom across the blueorangewhitegreypinkafterrain sky.

reverie


gun-metal sky pelting down near-invisible bullets,
millions of diamonds overhead, traveling down multi-layered slides.

your palm on the small of my back,
steering me away from the ants' pool i did not see.
hands hovering above my head,
laughingly attempting to catch the rain before it reached me.
arms round each other, two monkeys against the tide.

my mind knows better
but at times, you still make my heart sing.