August 23, 2004


A little girl in a little white easter dress is walking down a neighborhood street bouncing a little red ball. As she approaches an obviously deserted large house with a sinister demeanour, her attention moves from the ball to the house. Not paying attention to her bouncing, the ball hits the curb and ricochets toward the house. As she chases the little red ball toward the house, the ball picks up unnatural momentum and bounces right into the huge gaping front door. The little girl pauses for a moment, looks up at the house which now appears to be staring down at her, and cautiously enters the house in search of her little red ball. As she slowly walks into the atrium, she surveys the decaying mess that was once obviously a beautiful mansion. She becomes mesmerized by the exquisite detail of every inch of the banister winding up the seemingly endless staircase in front of her. Suddenly, her thoughts are broken by a horrifying commotion. She whips around to run out the front door, but finds only a blank wall where the door once stood. Frightened, she runs down the first hallway she sees, trying desperately to find a way out, but with every turn, the world behind her changes, bending to the will of the house, so that even finding a path back to the atrium where she began becomes impossible. Terrified, the little girl sinks into a corner, puts her head in her hands, and weeps.

10 years later....

The little girl wakes up in a panic. Now a young woman ... dirty and scarred. She's now clothed in black pants, work boots, and a black wife beater. Her skin is pale and dirty. Sunlight has not graced her flesh in over a decade. She awakens to find a meal placed on a dirty silver tray before her, just enough to sustain life just like every morning before. Placed there by a figure she can only see in passing, around a corner, walking through a door.... a figure that has become her only friend, and her only Hate. Her entire existence has become nothing but to hunt and destroy this shadow that keeps her here. As she hunts him relentlessly day after day, she becomes lost in the dichotemy of her own being. This thing that keeps her here, this person that repeatedly rapes her mind and watches her when she sleeps, has become her only friend. For if this person left, she would cease to exist. Ironically, she lives only to kill him and also lives only because of him. Everyday the house changes around her, so that everyday she wakes up in unfamiliar surroundings. The only constant ... is him. She hears his heart beating, she smells him, she can only think of finding him, but he is also the only thing she knows of love.

Traveller fell apart at 9:29 PM

August 22, 2004

It is said that the gift of intelligence is a genetic inheritance. A wealth of knowledge inherited from our predecessors if you will. But on occasions, I ask, is this gift of thought and contemplation truly a gift? Or is it somewhat a curse? For example, when offered a present by an individual, do you try to figure out what his true motives are? Do you try to pre-suppose his intentions and then decide what the next most plausible alternative to accepting his present is? Or do you just smile and happily accept what has been handed to you on a silver platter? In some senses, having ignorance is a bliss which I have been unable to experience. Too many times, I find my thoughts drifting...drifting through cynicality and pessimism. But can I be blamed? After all, this world has demonstrated too many times how optimism and happiness is severely punished if gone overboard. So can you really blame me for my perpetual cynicism? I think not.

But at times, I'm wondering whether this gift of cynicism and foresight is truly a gift. It's like I'm unable to enjoy life on the surface and continually attempt to delve into deeper meanings, underlying intentions and secret signals. Life isn't a take-and-go scenario for me anymore, it is more like a think-hard-and-far-before-you-accept-something scenario. Each day, the cynicism is fueled by the hate and deceit I see in the world. Each night, the demons in my head come out and speak to me, consoling me and explaining how cynicism saved me once again. And scarily enough, I'm actually beginning to like having them there. But I know deep down, there is a part of me wanting to break free from this lifestyle. Perhaps it is something which Christianity terms a 'soul'. Perhaps it does exist after all, and is calling out for salvation. But for now I know, cynicism triumphs over emotions. At least in my case.

Traveller fell apart at 1:32 PM

August 17, 2004

It is the peak of the night and this is where I'm at my most contemplative. Dark thoughts continue to swirl and plague my deepest recesses as I contend with issues I know are imperative to face. I'm worried. Worried about being unable to carry through with commitments, worried about what is to come, worried about what has already past. We struggle with worry and despair every second and minute of our lives and grapple with issues we'd rather not deal with. Perhaps it is true after all, the human life is one of suffering and dilemmas. The animals, though dim-witted and possessing no free will, at least find themselves free from the burdens of contemplative thought. Truly, truly, it is a blessing to be ignorant sometimes!

Bah, but what do I know? I am merely a recent entrant into the world of adults. The world of adults. Interesting. I'd always wondered what it'd be like and frankly, I don't quite like what I see at the moment. It is deceptive, hurtful and satirical really. What I've seen so far of life after 21 has been nothing short of disappointing. Even as adults, we become more like children. Even as children, we dream of becoming adults. What an irony, what a joke. Then again, many things in life are. It's just up to us to unravel those little ironies that line the paths of our tragic lives. Only when we acquire the ability to see the humour in these dark ironies do we find some meaning and pleasure.

Only then, will we be relieved. Or will we?

Traveller fell apart at 1:13 AM

August 13, 2004

I am irked and sickened. Yesterday whilst traversing my way across the campus courtyard, an Indian guy sporting a huge mop for hair walked up to me. "Hey dude, we're going to protest against the University sending 26 students to court for protesting against the hike in school fees. You wanna join us? We're going to send out a great message tomorrow when we turn up to win our rights back." Silence. "What's the matter? You've gotta fight for your rights man! And protesting is the only way you're going to win them back." Silence. I walked away, with half a mind to chide him for wasting his time. It is this obsession with protesting which the Aussies possess that eludes my understanding. Why protest? Does it really help? If the government or authority bows to people pressure, that is an authority I would not like to be under. The crowd is an irrational mass and bowing to their pressure is proof of one's own weakness and lack of spine.

In a sense, that is how democracy works, governments bow to people pressure. To the masses if you like. All because they lack power to go against the masses. And this is also the reason I have become disillusioned with democracy. It is divided, directionless and constantly under attack from every Tom, Dick or Harry that has a right to vote. Mind you, I'm not advocating Marxism here, not quite like the many posters I see which litter the walls of my Arts faculty building. If you ask me, Marxism does not quite make sense. There is inherent darkness and greed in humans, how can you ever expect them to be content with what their neighbours have? How can humans be expected to live in equality? That is a utopian dream and will remain so unless the human race somehow evolves an attitude of collectivism. These Marxists are foolish and naive. How can Communism ever be a form of government? If so, there must be absolute anarchy since even the leader in a Communist state must be equal with the rest. Communism contradicts itself, quite like democracy does.

My solution? Democratic Totalitarianism. Parliament and Heads Of States will be voted by the people on a four year basis. But their supreme ruler, the inherent wise one, the most objective of the lot, will be their ruler for as long as he lives. That said, this ruler must possess ruthlessness enough to kill his own family should they threaten him in any way. He must possess objectivity to abandon all religious beliefs all in the name of preservation of his state. He must contain within him the lust for power which threatens to corrupt his inherent savage mind every hour of the day. He must remain rational and objective, corruptionless and powerful. Together with a vast army, he shall bring Democratic Totalitarianism to the shores of every city across the globe. The citizens of these countries shall give up in fear or spill blood on their shores. It is a simple choice. Democracy has lived up its lifespan. It is time for a new change, a new order, a new revolution.

Perhaps only after the Third World War will people realise the futility of democracy. Then shall be the rise of a New World Order. When that happens, don't forget the little article you've read here in this corner of the vast domain we call the Internet.

Traveller fell apart at 1:47 PM

August 10, 2004

Orange Jasmine

The sparrow outside the window chirps noisily as I sit quietly in my room.
You've said that this sentence had the feel of summer to it.
The pencil in hand goes back and forth on the piece of paper.
I'm just using a few lines to describe who you are to me.

Both the sanma fish and cat you've always wanted to understand
And just like those, we discovered the fragrance of first love.
The warm sunlight reminds me of the brilliance of freshly-picked strawberries.
And you turn to me and tell me of your reluctance to eat up these feelings.

Just like the rainfall overnight, my love comes gushing forth.
The fallen leaves in the yard constantly overlap with my lingering thoughts.
A quarrel or fight will not disperse these feelings for you.
You appear in every poem's page.

Just like the rainfall overnight, my love comes gushing forth.
The butterfly on the window sill, reminds me of the beautiful chapter that flutters in the poem.
I continue to write about my eternal love for you into the poem's ending.
You are the only one I want to understand.

A fulfilling ear of rice makes this season happy.
Yet your cheeks are like ripened tomato in the fields.
And suddenly you say to me, "Orange Jasmine" as a name sounds wonderful.
Yet all I can think of at this moment is kissing your stubborn lips.

Pardon me if I've translated Jay Zhou's latest song wrongly but I've just realised that his songs have not only meaning in Chinese but translate pretty well too.

Traveller fell apart at 8:05 AM

August 09, 2004

I just realised the difference between University and JC life. In University, we're confronted with questions. Questions of progress, questions of politics, questions of society, questions of the human body. We're all debaters in our own right here in these little battlegrounds we call tutorials. Compared to JC, I feel so much more liberated. It's like I actually have something to contribute to an opinion or a school of thought. It's like I actually make a difference in this world of conflicting opinions and compromise.

Been caught up in the world of Niccolo Machiavelli ever since I did Political Science as a subject. This man is fascinating I swear. Advocating objectivity over morality, something which was far too advanced for his time and yet, has become the staple of our time. Thankfully, I managed to grab the last copy of his famous work "The Prince" off the shelves at the Matheson Library today. Now for a good read.

The weather over here has been getting steadily warmer although it's such the case with Melbourne that you can never expect when it will get colder or rain. Generally though, the weather has been bearable and I'm looking forward to Spring in September. Spring, where plants blossom once more, where birds sing their yearly song of beginning, where new life springs forth. And where my life in Australia begins as well. How fitting.

Now back to the essays that await me.

Traveller fell apart at 4:28 PM

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