In the mornings when I wake up....

In the mornings when I wake up, is when I'm at my most lucid, and in a state of oblivion...

And therein, lies a most obvious contradiction.

It usually takes me ages to wake up in the mornings. In fact, I think I don't wake up until the afternoons roll around. So I'm usually walking around oblivous to all and sundry; half-awake, and giving half-awake answers.

The lucidity that strikes me in the morning is something that I've not yet learnt to handle. I seem to see and feel things more clearly and intensely in the mornings than at any other time of the day.The few first few moments of my waking up, I'm besieged by the most intense and sharpest of all sorts of strange emotions, sometimes leftover remnants from the dream I had the previous night, or just emotions that I carry around all the time, but which I managed to conceal with layers and layers of effective camouflage.

In the mornings, I'm awashed by feelings of great sadness, fears, and longings, all intermingled together. I ache, I desire, I miss, I love, all with the most incredible intensity, so much so I wish I can sleep forever and not have to wake up....


At some point of writing this, my mind began to come alive. I remembered the fairy tale "Sleeping Beauty". I think she was actually happier being in that state of deep rest and sleep, than to be awaken by some pamby namby kissy lips Prince, and then to be married 'happily after' to His Highness Mr Pretty Face, which probably means looking after the big baby and cleaning up after him.

If I were her, I think I'll rather stay asleep....

PS Somebody should prevent and stop me from blogging too early in the mornings, when my brain is still not functioning; the rubbish I write! Good grief!

Voting is sacred/secret..

Like real....

Anyway, for the first time in my life, I finally get to vote. How fortunate! I thought hell will have to freeze over before I'll finally get this chance of a lifetime opportunity.

This is a Dream Come True. Literally.

Anyway, I did my part, and submitted my vote into a cardboard box (cardboard box? what were they thinking?) at about 7.30pm tonight, about half an hour before the polls closed. The results are suppose to be out at midnight, just 4 hours after the polls close. I think they do it with robot machines or something, because human counts can't be completed so quickly.

(Anyway, even as I'm writing this blog, the election results are coming in. The Opposition won the seat for Hougang, with more than 200 rejected votes.)

(I'm really interested in the number of bad votes because as a political analyst said, the number of bad votes are an indication that the grassroots are not exactly satisfied with the ruling party. Let's just see the number of spoilt votes..)

Anyway, enough of this, let's not discuss politics anymore, lest people get the impression that I have some political inclinations. Make no mistake of it, I'm a politically apathetic Singaporean.

Otherwise, I'll have to register my blog with the goverment or something like that. And they wonder why young Singaporeans are politically apathetic. Haha...

Normal is good...

It's been getting harder and harder to wake up in the mornings.

I guess one reason, and the obvious reason, is that I've been sleeping later and later.

Another reason is that I've seem to have developed a dislike for the day and now prefer to do my things in the surreptitiousness of the night. Maybe I should start sleeping in the day instead of at night like normal people, and live my life in the dark of the night instead.

Anyway, I seem to have a penchant for living life in the dark nights.

I think I need to start trying to make some attempt at regaining normality in my life.

Ode to Durian Seller

At the supermarket late last evening, a durian seller was harking his wares, and almost begging me to help him dispose of his durians, at an incredibly cheap price of course.

The fruit won't be able to last overnight, and I guess selling it at a loss is better than writing off his money totally. There was something pathetic about this durian seller; the desperate appeal in his faltering voice to all and sundry. I could tell he didn't have much hope of selling the rest of his durians, but he knew he had to at least try, because to face his losses in the face, it's probably more than the poor man can handle at that point.

I guess I can end this with a moral and some personal reflection of human life and human foibles and all that, but I guess I won't. I'll just leave it as such, as a story of a durian seller, who was trying to sell his durians, to nobody in particular, at 9 at night, while his fruit lay in the display, unwanted.