Sunday, June 29, 2008 . 11:40 AM
When one embraces an illusion so tightly that he believes it to be true, does it necessarily blossom into reality? Perhaps that was my wish and hope at that time, that everything would work out amicably; that at the very least, maybe I'll get to be a distant friend of hers, to be able to talk to her in small little conversations that would not matter too much to her, but matter lots to me...But of course, this turned out to be nothing less than a massive conceptual error; when one stands in front of a mirror, all he sees is but an image, no matter how much he wishes it to solidify, an image will be an image. An illusion will always be an illusion; the tuxedo and the rose stalk can never hide the monster that one truly is... Inexplicably, I stood for the immaterial, the easily changeable; Reason no longer the driving force behind any of my further actions. It was a mistake that caused me to take my heart up to dizzying heights and depths; my emotions to run crazy through the gauntlet of hormones, appearances, and handphone messages, and... not long after, cause them to all slam dead and deep into a pit of boiling mud.... immersing me into the dark depths of despair, with her dress getting stained by some of it. A horrible mistake it was, and... I regret it fully...
Strum the instrument and play the sad, sad song, let the winter grow in strength and bury me into a cold, deep sleep.
---
The silence... was it something imaginary; imagined by me as an excuse for me being perpetually down, or was it as real as the person in front of me? The bespectacled, short, and thin girl with a weird curly hairstyle, sat across the huge circle formed in the hall; our orientation group was playing some kind of weird ice-breaker game. I eyed her with a little caution in my expressions; deliberately trying not to stare at her for more than 5 seconds at a time, though obviously, she isn't paying much attention to me, which is alright, and... I don't think I was being too obvious. Maybe I was? I shifted my gaze over again to some random person; to keep the dynamic of the stalker going. Notice, and not be noticed; keep the illusion up; she looked so pretty in that position. Vaguely, I registered the fact that the game had just started; as my mind remained engulfed in a haze of red and blue...
---
I have no idea as to why I was so attracted to her; was it romance, or merely obsession? My thoughts were a little messed up then, she was indeed pretty, but when I tried to put that prettiness into words, she didn't seem like she was anyone special. She seemed pretty smart as a person, though a little frail and she had many, many friends which she talked with many, many times, but still, she did not seem to take a huge role in anything just yet. That was all I knew about her, through observation, really; and yet, something really... caused my mind to blank a little bit today. To proclaim that you like a girl because she was ‘interesting’ is pretty weird, right? My mind tried to search for some reason... but love often lacks one; was this some kind of infatuation? Not too sure.
Perhaps it was because she told me that she was a Grade 8-der on the piano, as a passing remark to a query I just shot out from nowhere, but she was by no means the first to answer. This feeling; it was really somehow an abstract one, that I could not even begin to describe... It was not necessarily critical or impactful in any sense, but it was certainly uncomfortable, and as to what would happen as a result, I had not much of an idea...
---
Without any apparent action, she begins to envelop me in a cloud of vague affection while standing still. Every laugh, every time she plays the piano, every time her name is called out, my attention shifts. I do talk with others, of course; there are other people which I can relate to; gamers, more introverted people, etc. I'm not that lonely after all. But she makes her presence felt more effectively than anyone else I see or hear about during the orientation. We were in separate groups (A and B), which eases (or strengthens?) the pain a little, but... it's all the same. I itch to communicate with her through a proper conversation, but that was too difficult for the likes of me to accomplish; I simply could not bear to talk to her... I'm sure that I was not much of a special person either; my strengths lie in what I do alone, and am not too apparent by any means to the common stranger. Perhaps she thought that I was smart but slightly plump; even the way she portrays me is of considerable interest. There is nothing I can do; what I wish for is that she would make the first move; but hahaha, that would never happen... she was introverted herself too, to some extent, though I guess that she was definitely friendly and kind, judging from her huge social circle. She probably thought absolutely nothing for me... if I wanted anything to happen; I had to make the first move, and break the barriers that make up my personality... what to do, what to do...
And oh, strike one for me. Shall lose the game pretty quickly, then.
---
Well, our orientation group got chosen for the upcoming skit competition for tonight. It was simple, each house held auditions for each of the orientation groups under the house, and chose the best one to represent the house for their 'OG Nite'; stupid uninspired descriptive sentences like the previous one deserve to burn in hell, and I'm sure bilingually proficient Grace could do much better (readers take note); I hated my part. I really did. Doing tribal dances were certainly not the kind of thing I enjoyed at all, and the fact that the inspiration for this came from youtube really turned me off. But well, I had to do it, since everyone had to do their part (I could relate to that), and because I could see her act from backstage... surprisingly, she was chosen to do the part of the “oh so cute” TV reporter; which was pretty major; I could sense that she was a little uncomfortable in playing the role; despite the pretence of happiness she put up, her uncommitted voice and her unwillingness to go with the skit gave her away. As compared to the minor role I was playing, I guess she was suffering a little more, from my point of view (which might be wrong). This was where a major fault of hers seemed to show itself pretty distinctly; she was a person who went with the flow; who put her friends before herself, who did whatever her friends told her to do... this was one of the few things I seemed to be right about of course, on retrospect. At the very least, I was not blind to her faults, I guess... But that lying in the ashes of that fault, could also be a phoenix of strength. After all, it was always more enjoyable to be with people than to be with yourself.
How it went, how it went... I felt like wishing her good luck (and another person, so as to make it seem that I was not eyeing her), but well, she was too far away from me, both physically and metaphorically. I wished for her to give it her best shot, quietly, under my breath, as she disappeared from backstage, laughing with her friends through the door once again.
---
Feeling more calm-headed at that moment, for some intangible reason, I managed to listen and understand the rules of the game being played... I was prone to long spells of daydreaming since I was young... many regarded it as a fault of mine, but I regard as a kind of sanctuary.. to immerse myself into fluid seas of creativity as I think with a mind whited out, in a good way. There was a certain kind of joy to be felt in such endeavours... and I guess I felt slightly more comfortable... her grip on my heart loosened. It still did seize for a moment when she came within my sights again, after two hours of absence, but well, this time, it was surprisingly tame... for a short, short moment; deep breaths, deep breaths...
And as she smiled again, once again with her friends as she sat down at the far side of the circle. At this instance, my heart quietened down again. It was comforting to see her happy, though that effect that could have on me could also be… inverted; jealousy seething, worry and feelings of incompetence combining with each other to send me over the edge… But for now, it was fine.
The game was like glorified whacko, but with two people making up the edge of the circle instead of one. It was played the same way like always, but the inner edge of people would be mute, and the outer edge would call out the names of people in the inner circle to distract the hitter away. This was somehow fun; whacko was always one of my favourite games. After a person is finally hit, the person’s former mouth would shift forwards to become a body, the triumphant whacker would sit behind him or her, and the caught would assume the form of a newspaper man.
I hate myself for that paragraph; I really, really do; inappropriate humour at inappropriate times. I wonder if Grace uses this device often.
But during the course of the game, she suddenly sat behind me after the game went on for quite some time. I was not even clever enough to hope for that; I did not notice the potential opportunity for her to sit behind me. But what warmed my heart for the rest of two hours… was the fact that she talked to me. She tapped my shoulder and asked for my name. Happily, I replied and asked her name too (though I already knew from the start). This… was somehow cute, and though this conversation lasted for a short while, I guess it was something that made me feel… happy for awhile.
And when I got caught all of a sudden, she said sorry laughingly… I guess I felt that it would be a precursor to some potential wish; to do this every once in awhile. When I look back at it now, I feel sad and lonely; the memory was ingrained in my brain, and it was odd… as that memory turned from sweet and happy to sad and bitter as the year progressed. It was a clear sign… that she was not to blame for my depression. She was friendly, kind and happy, though probably studious, and from this memory, I felt strongly… I regretted strongly… what I did later in the year. If only I kept my distance, things may have been slightly different. She could have replied my SMSes once in awhile as a distant acquaintance… and I guess I would have been in a better state that I am in now.
I was the one at fault for what I did; emotions clouding my mind like fog… me stabbing blindly in the cloak to find a way out… only to find that I… slashed her instead…
But this was one of the happier parts of the year… and I would treasure it dearly; whether it be a curse, or a blessing.
---
The performance itself was lacklustre. Grace fumbled with her lines for a while; other than that, she did as expected. I do not really think that she was the one to put the biggest blame on, however. It was more of a fault of the script. Only a few hollow laughs by the audience pierced unconvincingly through the air… and the tribal dance at the end attracted lots of laughter, which was mainly unintentional…
This was depressing.
We went back to the audience… and went with the programme. Rather strangely… she sat alone this time, her face like an empty slate through all this time. This was… in sharp contrast to what she was before… a happy person, having fun with her friends, and I wondered to myself, if she could live without them. Did she have her own hobbies to embrace; to conduct in secret, like I did? Were family and friends the most important things in the world to her? Questions filled my mind as the night continued to pass, as I looked at her from time to time; her not noticing me. This was because, during that period of time, she looked more introverted than I did. She did not speak a word to anyone around her… while I did speak a few sentences to acquaintances close by, about how the performance was good; about how the performance was bad, and so on. There was something to be said about how she conducted herself… her back was straight, her hands over each other on the skirt, watching the stage intently, her face not showing any semblance of opinion each time. The sight was almost pretty, but it was more subtle than anything else I’ve seen about her… it was quite an experience to see. Maybe I remember it so well as this would be one of the last times I would ever see that side of her again.
I wonder if me making fun of wannabe pianists trying to play Jay Chou (I despised him dearly) on faulty organs destroyed her opinion of me. But that was a weird branch of the main path… I should not talk much about that, for it was one of the things I could not have prevented, since I did not know that she liked Jay Chou.
---
Photos were taken, farewells and ‘good luck’s were given, as the orientation came to a close. Although I may look back at such times with nostalgia now, I was more sulky about the entire thing at the time itself. Any memory associated with Temasek… should be treasured deeply. I loved the school, I guess, and I wonder if I would still love it now. She probably loved the school itself too.
I saw her hug one of our Orientation Group Leaders for awhile (female, of course); she was fairly popular in the group, although that same popularity was mostly subtle. I guess even someone as seemingly refined as her (this might be an illusion) did have the traits of the more active ones around me. I would turn out to be one of the black sheep in the group, but I guess I would leave that memory for later. Anyways, I was presented with a choice; we did not have our dinner yet and most of the orientation group members would be going out for one. I could either go home, or go with them. I was undecided, but I saw Grace, saying that she wanted to go home I guess. She waved goodbye to her friends and with a tinge of happiness, she walked towards the main gates…
And overcome with some semblance of want, I did the same to the people I knew shortly after, and followed her.
And managed to say goodbye to her.
She returned that goodbye to me, and I guess I felt very happy then too. I saw, from the bus stop, her crossing the road with two people who seemed to be her grandparents. Judging from my own experience, I guess she was much more close to her family than I was. I did not know her results then, but she was definitely a model student to behold; she was academically very strong. It was easy to see that from her appearance alone. They disappeared off to the small crowd in the hawker centre… and this made me feel a little disappointed in myself… perhaps I should do the same to my own grandparents after all…
But family background is family background. It’s hard to change the flow after all… I did not really have the drive to do it. This was the beginning of her influence over my other aspects of life, however, and that would be an interesting study in itself. The thing in my mind then, however, was that of extreme happiness and warmth. I said goodbye to her, after all. As I said, small things that matter so much to me, but little to her, that was the dream of the dolphin. Something about this did not feel right however, but still, I was happy. I made the promise to myself, not to interact with her any further…, which I broke the next day.
But that was where The End should be put. A lukewarm ending to a short, short, story, which would give me something sweet to remember in the future; this was where it should have ended. If only I had known the stormy future ahead of me… I would have done so. Perhaps interact with her months later, through short SMSes about how she was doing, and I might have been complete. I might even have that silver of a chance to push me on… to have her as a friend… And then, I could have…
The greatest mistake of my life was underway, and it would haunt me forever, her never forgiving me…
---
Motif and function, how different instances of seeing her could affect my emotions and make it jump to heights and depths. Also a glimpse of how she could influence my life so easily; she influenced where I wanted to go for example. This was a perverted love, in some way… almost like a stalker and its prey. But this was also my character; my way of doing things; always destined to fail. This was the start of the end of me… I guess; happy memories turning rotten with every passing minute… to the point where I wish I did not meet her at all (I’m sure she wishes the same). Only the bad side of me showed itself to her… and it was something that she would remember… I cannot claim to know how she feels, but… that would be a good guess.
I guess I liked her… I really did.
Monday, June 23, 2008 . 1:10 PM
This, is stupid.
Whut
Right.
I don't know about you guys, but genuinely, I think that this sucks. Here I am, a composer, a notecharter, submitting works to allow the server to grow and have more exclusives to entice people, and yet, they do not allow me to use the loading art that a friend made for me, and which I think is awesome and fits the song perfectly. I'm the artist, and notecharter, and in the future, I'm going to spend many, many hours to notechart and compose various songs for contribution to the server, partly because I want to watch it grow and relive the O2 Jam experiences that I have not felt for a long time, and partly because I want to promote my own works and have a sense of pride to see them being played by others. Thus, logically, since I receive nothing, other than the above, for this, I should have jurisdiction of the loading art of the songs. If I like it, I use it. There's absolutely no harm in that. After all, it's only there for less than ten seconds each time the song is played. This isn't an unreasonable request; to let every composer and notecharter choose whatever loading art to use; it's more of a basic right of all artists.
Of course, I'm sure many of you can see the irony presented here by what I've said, but do focus on the subject matter for awhile. D=
Know what they said?
No.
Instead, they throw up stupid excuses like 'it's empty', 'let may do it!' in order to deter me from using the piece of art that I want, and it's somehow already very unclear as to what the fate of Atmosphere's loading art shall be.
What some members of the forum, and the admin, are trying to do here are to insist on the use of their graphics team, and make them responsible for all loading arts of RO2 Exclusives. In a way, this is fine, if the composer and notecharter lacks the friends or the expertise to make the loading arts for them, then okay, they can use the graphics team. Evidently, it's not as if every notecharter already has a loading art at hand from some other source. Moreover, they have duties other than to make loading arts, such as making jamming arenas, starting templates, and other things. There are not going to be rendered useless by what I request, though some short-sighted fools fail to see this.
And ironically, they allow the composers and notecharters to ask from modifications so as to let the loading arts made by them suit their needs. Ha, ha, ha.
What I'm lobbying for is for composers to choose whatever loading arts they want, be it from the graphics team, their friends, other sources, and such. MO2 has done this, and it's not exactly their number one reason for going bankrupt from all of us. I'm not saying that the graphics teams are incompetent in their art (though they can be incompetent..., in other things); in fact, they are all better than what I can ever be. But bleh, they should not be the end all be all of loading arts. Down with this stupid restriction; down I say.
