Turning 28
TK
UIC Building
Sentosa
NIMC
Xin Wang HK Cafe at Marina Square
Handyplast
Taipei & Taichung
Job fatigue
Failed career change
8 weddings
Completed first year at work
Hong Kong & Macau
I’m Confessin (That I Love You)
Work trip to Malaysia
Jacky Cheung
Promotion
Pay increment
Bangkok and Chiang Mai
Ah Mao’s wedding
Marc
Kit Chan x 2
Tang moving to Singapore
Huey’s wedding
… Emo
New home
Late night car rides
Date Auction
Cali’s wedding
S1
From MICA to Goodman
Dale
P.S. Cafe at Ann Siang Hill
Sax
Forgiveness?
Foolishness?
Christmas Eve/Christmas Day at TPY McDonald’s
(Would-have-also-been) New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day somewhere else

I also plan to achieve the following in 2012:

1) Guard my heart
2) Quit getting involved with younger, immature men
3) Contemplate and plan for further studies

I can only hope for 2012 to be a much better year for everyone who matters to me.

Happy New Year to all.

It is 1745 and I arrive at the scene of the crime. I look around for a seat but it is Sunday and the place is packed with people – weekend shoppers, dating couples, and small families on outings. I look around again and see a man rise from his seat and leave. Perfect timing, I think to myself, as this is a table at the far end, near the doorway, where I get a full view of things.

I see him at the counter, standing with four others. Tall, lean and lanky, with hair so brown you would think it’s black. He wears the green company apron over a long-sleeved black shirt. He holds up a cup to look for a name, and calls it out with a voice so smooth and deep. Someone walks up to him to ask where the toilets are. He directs her in the same old words, no more no less, and with that same smile. He walks over to the cashier to take an order. He scribbles a name on a cup and passes it on to someone else. Sometimes, most of the time, he makes the coffee.

I hear the hiss of the coffee-maker, and the loud banging sound of that little coffee-making tool (I do not know what it’s called). Today I decide to have a tall cappuccino. I see that he is not around, so I go up to make my order. A few moments later he reappears from the store and takes over making my coffee. Everyone who was standing beside him gradually leaves the counter. I go numb and whisper “shit” under my breath. I tell myself that this is a rare chance that he is actually standing there alone. I think about what I am supposed to do – say “Thank you” when he calls my name, and go, “Nice hair” or something else really cheesy. Then proceed to the next step and ask “What’s your name?”

No.

I see the silver ring on the fourth finger of his right hand and pondered its significance, if any at all. He flips his hair occasionally to get the fringe out of the way. I see him put a cover over a cup and wonder if it is mine. My heart starts to race and I feel myself go cold with nervousness and anxiety. He finally calls my name and I am this close to opening my mouth, but I walk up to the counter, awkwardly grab the cup of coffee as if I had stolen it, and with a turn of my back I walk away.

I sit down at my table once more, face flushing. I get a horrible feeling that he knows me – in a negative way. The girl who comes in all the time and reads like there is no tomorrow. Or maybe she does not have a life outside my workplace. Because when I walk up to get my coffee, he does not smile at me or direct me to the condiments corner like he does to others. He smiles at everyone but me. I continue to watch him from afar. He walks over to the condiments corner, and an upbeat song starts to play over the speakers. He does a little dance to the music while refilling the chocolate powder.

At approximately 1905 I leave the scene of the crime, feeling slightly paranoid that he recognises and hates me. Already.

Strawberry Pancakes, P.S. Cafe

The date (if I may even call it that) was perfect. My company came in the form of a complete gentleman who took absolute care of me – let me have complete say over the two mains on the menu which we agreed to share; help me cut my pancake into bite-sized pieces; offered me his jacket to cover myself when it suddenly poured and we didn’t have an umbrella; braved the rain to get his car and drove back to our lunch venue to pick me up so I wouldn’t have to get drenched; drove me all the way home even though his next appointment was a significant distance away.

The venue was excellent, with a decent amount of sunshine and romantic Christmas jazz ballads I loved. Our lunch was littered with the right amount of laughs, teasing, conversation, sharing of school and life experiences, and heart palpitations (though I’m certain they were all mine). I was amazed at how alike we were, in terms of interests and hobbies (Chinese pop music, CantoPop and film), down to the subjects we did at school (Higher Chinese and Geography). It hardly felt like I was meeting him properly and face-to-face for the first time, because everything flowed so smoothly and he always made it a point to ensure that I was comfortable and well taken care of. Never mind the fact that I was a nervous wreck inside, constantly anxious about how the day would flow, if I had said anything stupid, or if I looked fat and ugly.

After a 20-minute car ride from the CBD to my place, where we listened to the radio (he immediately switched to FM 88.3 the moment he knew it was my preferred station), we parted on a pleasant enough note, agreeing to meet again for meals and stuff. I don’t know if he meant it sincerely, or if it was just his way of being polite. The one thought lingering in my mind, as I got out of his car after only 4 hours of being together, was that this guy was really something and I wish I could get to know him better, BUT.

… I am glad we managed to cross paths, and in such a random manner, however regrettable the situation might be. In fact, I think he just might be that one person who is going to indirectly help me put a stop to my cycle of dating inappropriate and useless men.

So, dear S1, thank you. Thank you for this fleeting, transient memory; for instinctively knowing what my Chinese surname is; for appreciating 《驼飞轮》 like I do, for having obscure songs like 《绵绵》 and 《无声仿有声》in your iPhone playlist and being so eager to let me go through it; for understanding what I mean when I say Ryan Gosling is my current favourite actor. I look forward to the day when we can talk about shirtless A&F models openly without me feeling like I’m treading on sensitive ground, and when you can finally quit mentioning this phantom “her” that you are currently seeing and how cool “she” is about you coming out to meet me. :)

和情人深深一吻来代替讲话好吗
这讯号以无声仿有声 领略时未需解吗
和情人紧紧拥抱来代替讲话好吗
你快乐眼泪想洒了而不准你洒
我在旁请不要害怕

I picked you out
Of a crowd and talked to you
Said I liked your shoes
You said “Thanks, can I follow you?”
So it’s up the stairs and out of view
No prying eyes I poured some wine
I asked your name you asked the time.

“Lover I Don’t Have To Love” – Bright Eyes

I know this is not the kindest thing to wish upon someone I admire but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish Eason in real life was this extremely depressed and melancholic broody man who never had much luck with love or life – instead of the crazy, quirky, successful and happily married father he is now. I suppose I would really feel the emotions expressed through his music then.

不如这样 我们一直拥抱到天亮
如果关怀是种补偿 还有什么不能原谅
倒不如这样 我们回到拥抱的现场
证明感情总是善良 残忍的是
人会成长

I’ve always thought the lyrics were way too pathetic for a guy to be singing this. But for some strange reason I relate to these emotions and love the song too. Pity the singer has disappeared somewhat, and will possibly be remembered forever as a one-hit-wonder.

1) Ladies and Gentlemen (George Michael, the one and only)
2)  Re-interpreting (Kit Chan)

This is such a pointless entry. Good night. -_-

爱让我们虚伪
我得到于事无补的安慰
你也得到模仿爱上一个人的机会
残忍也不失慈悲
这样的关系你说多完美？