white whale

I am wandering, haphazardly at best,

head full of helium and heartbeats running wild

to a hallucinatory rhythm.

History stares sternly at me,

its piercing gaze raising the hairs on

the back of my neck. I’ve

been here. The soles of my shoes

fit perfectly into the craters of footprints

left behind in the dirt. Perhaps I’ve

just walked the entire planet to escape you,

only to return to where I had begun

at the end of my cyclical sojourn.

I wish I could tuck you away

into a password, or a notebook that

collects dust under my mattress,

or a receipt crushed at the bottom of my purse.

But you are my white whale,

an oasis in a desert. Like a drowning fish,

you make me pull my own puppet strings,

even when I’d sworn to cut them short.

I’m drawn to you, hideously and fatuously,

like a wasp is to a beacon.

And on some days, some better ones, the clouds seem to

morph into the contours of your face,

and I laugh from the earth below

at how even the skies

have a little sense of humour.

first film roll

Not too long ago, I bought my first film camera (Pentax IQZoom 90MC) online from artofcam on Carousell (the only reason why I’m giving him a shoutout is because I could tell he was very passionate about film and actually spent an hour giving me a tutorial about film 101).

Some of these shots are out of focus, others taken with the wrong settings, but I guess it’s all part of the learning experience!! Film is something I’ve wanted to try out for a long time now and I’m so glad I finally stopped making excuses and went for it. There’s a certain beauty about the wait—nowadays, pictures can be reviewed instantly upon taking them but film incites a sort of anticipation that compels you to appreciate and be excited about the little things, even just a configuration of pixels on a screen.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

Key events: Commendation Day, last day of school, Euphoria

Camera: Pentax IQZoom 90MC

Film: Kodak Colorplus 200

Continue reading “first film roll”

EUPHORIA

EUPHORIA! — the event of the year for most of the students in my JC to celebrate the end of the school year! I’m glad that I got to be part of the backbone for this event in council. The most surreal part about the whole day was watching my own little doodle making its worldly manifestation on everyone’s shirts–people I love, some not so much; people I’ve known for years, others only for a few days. The paths I’ve crossed this year are really not to be understated. Every friendship and encounter, whether pleasant or fleeting, matters.

Continue reading “EUPHORIA”

i wrote this because i was sad and afraid

disclaimer: i would just like to say that i had contemplated whether or not to post this for the longest time ever, because, well, the whole performance/theatre/actor motif is hackneyed as hell. but hey, every time after i read through this, i feel more and more resolute with regards to the genuine emotion i had poured into this. while at risk of sounding like a whiny 11 year old trying desperately to sound deep, this poem truly embodies the kind of act i had to put on for some people for the longest time ever just to adopt a persona i believed that they would accept. so here, hold it and read it and have a share in my frivolities ~


unscripted, this thespian is unshielded and naked.

the curtains, they’re stuck, they won’t fall so

i’m left standing, stricken, in front of an applauding audience

and they don’t stop.

my cheeks stiffen and my lips crack from the sustained smiles,

i bow and bow and bow until my back contorts like a nervously chewed up straw

never realizing that this was a performance.

my vision is bleached from the onslaught of unkind spotlights and

i’m crying but they think my tears are glitter that adorn my eyelids.

the corset’s strangling the breath from my spirit,

but the flowers keep being thrown my way—

they don’t hear me, and they speak to me in roses,

so the blood their thorns draw from my fingertips—i take, and smear on my lips

to make sure my lipstick aways remains bold, fierce and pretty.

that’s the only way i can fight

this illusion into the whispers of midnight,

even when the feathery winds curl around and lift

discarded ticket stubs from the pavement

to a place we don’t talk about.

if i can’t make them disappear then let me.

a eulogy for a dreamy sunday afternoon

i. sunlight seeping in borrows a rosy hue from tinted window glass, dancing off your tousled hair.

ii. the stereo murmurs a dull synth-pop tune to colour the silence, inside the lines.

iii. buildings we pass melt into a nondescript blur, like abstractions of ink on a drenched book.

iv. the weight of my baggage surrenders to the one tugging at my chest. i know i am not half-dreaming.

v. there’s only so much i can read from the back of your neck, like newspapers shrouded by the dark of morning.

iv. you mean so many things to me, things no tongue could explain. not even to myself.

iii. this silence amidst noise is killing me. i would rather burst into a rhapsodic wail, out of tune.

ii. this moment will not yield to captivity. like a firefly in a jar, the only glow i see is put out by the last breath of a dying dream.

i. heart and soul, mind and soul, maybe it’s time to let this firefly go?