Matrix Revisited

What if none of this is real ? What if reality as we know it is nothing more than a grand illusion?

Neo had the easy way out; one pill was all it took for him to cross over to the proverbial other side. The rest of us get a glimpse of this alternate reality through literature, music, extreme human emotions (I'm tempeted to say 'love', but you know as well as I do that hate warps reality as much any other emotion), and in some cases, hallucinogens (perhaps pills of a somewhat different nature...).

Reality is perceived. Perception is filtered by experience. Experience is how the mind processes or handles that which is perceived. And what is perceived is what is deemed to be reality. Where does the aquisition of knowledge and experience begin and where does it end ? If every reality that is perceived is a subjective version of the truth, who is to say that your reality is more 'real' than mine ?

Musicians, poets and politicians, through practiced skill and sheer force of will, layer upon us some of the dearest 'truths' that exist in the consensual reality. Next time you listen to a piece of music, read a moving poem, or listen to a politician at a rally, think. How much of what you see, hear, or feel is your reality ? How much of it is the imposing of another's will and reality on yours ?

Questioning reality throws up no answers. When Pandora's Box was opened, Hope was the only thing left inside (one wonders what was Hope doing inside there with all the other Evils in the first place, but that's besides the point). When the dreamer wakes from a dream in which he knew he was dreaming, how is he to be sure that he didn't wake up to a reality which was just another lucid dream ?

For the few of us who manages to see beyond the veneer of consensual reality, what then ? To quote the late Oscar Wilde, "I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his prize and punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."


Are you dreaming, or are you just sleeping ? Eyes wide shut, open but unseeing.

postscript: To chase a dream is to have faith, to believe in something that does not yet exist, and more often than not, walking the road less travelled that will birth the dream into reality.

A capo is not a baby frog

You know you've been obsessing over your guitar too much when...

... you are in the shower and realise that you're washing your face in 4/4 time.
... you wish you had six fingers (or more) on your left hand.
... you dream that you had six fingers on your left hand and you consider it a good dream (while the rest of the world usually wakes up screaming).
... you dream that you have six toes and your toe socks don't fit anymore (ok, this doesn't make sense. But what the heck)
... your left hand starts to feel moderately more useful than your right.
... you keep your left thumbnail uncut while the rest gets filed down to the cuticle at the first signs of growth.
... a capo no longer refers to just a baby frog (ask your hokkien friends).
... you are no longer afraid of being labelled a paedophile for confessing the love of e minor (ok, corny. bad eric. ; p)
... you start telling people you play with your g string when you're in your room alone. (Gimme a CORE! Gimme a KNEE! What do you get !?)
...your supposed top ten list of reasons of "How you know you've been obsessing over your guitar too much" overflows.

I should stop here before it starts to get too contrived. Heh. Shouts to Hannah (miss ya!), TLT (i borrowed your forty bucks, 8p), Annabelle (having fun yet ?), Kerri (see you next week.. *wink), and the sixth toe that wasn't there. And my socks are green.

Have fun, those of you having your exams! 8 ). School's the second best place to be.

May the Lord bless each and every one of you with peace, joy, and laughter. As for me, bless me with dextrous fingers. 8 )

I don't know what to write. Can't even remember what happened last week. It's been a week..

...since we last had any contact with each other. Looks like your life is back on track again, with me out of it. Work, church, friends and all. You were part of mine, was I ever part of yours ? I clutch with desperate hands at the straws that remotely looked like happy memories of us together. Were they real ?

One of us is dreaming.

I loved you the only way I knew how, human failings and all. How did a desire to love and be loved turn out to be such a source of hatred ?

The greatest thing that one can ever learn, is to love and be loved in return..

I love you, nothing will change that. In a perfect world, this love is unconditional. Not so long ago, in one of the last 'good' phone conversations we had, I told you,

ֻҪ��˵һ�仰���������ﶼ��ɵ������ߡ�����
Just say the word, and from wherever I am, I'll fly to be there with you by your side

That has always been, and will always continue to be, true. How much of it arose of my own need to be loved in return, I don't know. When I close my eyes and walk, I see you. How, despite everything that has happened, your smile will still be my greatest joy. How, despite the quarrels that we have, all the time we spent trying to fix things, your stubborn assertion that we're not dating and are just friends, hearing you laugh at my silliness or jokes makes it all worthwhile at the end of day. I miss you, and there isn't much I wouldn't give to have things back the way they were, to a time before I crumbled beneath my own need to be loved.

..then give it time..

.. and have faith. That when all the fear and anger that clouded our vision has been diluted with the passage of time, what's left behind will be that which is pure and true. Perhaps we can come together again then as persons in our own right, and with tender strokes, begin the next chapter of the story we started.

The Rainbow Connection

Why are there so many songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions
And rainbows have nothing to hide
So we've been told, and some choose to believe it
I know they're wrong, wait and see
Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Who said that ev'ry wish would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it
Look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me
All of us under its spell,
We know that it's probably magic.

Have you been half asleep and heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors
I know it's one and the same
I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm s'posed to be
Someday we'll find it, the Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Reunion

We met again last Saturday. The class got together for lunch along with some other ex students at the place where we once went for classes. It was a hurried affair, followed by a quick photo taking session. The few of us went off in Fabian's car to Serangoon Gardens for coffee, where most of us, for most part, sat and listened to him regale tales of his new life in the army.

Every dear friend a mighty mountain...

Outwardly, nothing much seemed to have changed. Fabian lost his voice, as expected, and looked a little gaunt. He seemed happy, though his decision to stay on after his contract ends slightly unnerved me. Gracie's going into teaching and Joe should be on his way to see Tekong for the first time as I write this. How many more get togethers can there be ? Even now, we're all starting to lead different lives. Had not for Fabian's endless stream of army stories, would we have had stuff to talk about ? It's a gargantuan task to stay in touch, keep in contact, when the ties that bind fade with each passing day. Friends, loved ones, fading slowly into the background as the mundane going ons of daily life takes over. New friends, new loves, new lives. Life is an endless struggle against entropy, where most of the time, you paddle hard just so you can stay on the same spot.

I once sought the opinion of a dear friend on the nature of perseverance, and how does one know when it stops being persevering and starts being simply a case of being unable to let go.

When you stop caring...

Thank you, Eugene. I'll never forget that.

To my beloved, you know who you are, you probably won't be reading this, but just so that you know, despite the flare up and all the frustrations, I still care.

...And sometimes, just sometimes, when the going gets a little tough for both of us, I wonder if we'd make time to meet up and find some comfort in a little hug...

For your smile will always be my sunshine, and your laughter the sweetest music of it all.

love,
.eric