Last night, I dreamt about my father.

It wasn't a nightmare, and it wasn't a pleasant, happy dream but it was the sort of dream where you wake up asking yourself if it was a dream or a memory because it seemed so vivid and real.

I haven't had a dream with my father in it for months now. In fact, I'm sorry to say that my father hasn't been much in mind lately. The reason why I'm writing about this now is because I've just finished watching Sleepless In Seattle (I love Meg Ryan!) and there's this little boy character who woke up from his sleep suddenly, in tears, and exclaimed to his dad (played by Tom Hanks), that he's afraid of forgetting about his late mother (or something to the same effect).

I, too, have the same fear.

I am afraid of forgetting what my father looked like. What his laugh sounded like. What he smelled like. What he liked to do. What he liked to watch on TV. I am always afraid that I had never loved him enough. And I regret the fact that I never told him how much he meant to me. Whenever I think about him now, there is no searing pain like the one I felt before just some years back; now it's just a dull ache in my chest that will go away quite quickly.

Honestly, I've had a rough last couple of weeks and I await January with anxiety and apprehension. Perhaps, my father's appearance in my dream was a sign of something; telling me not to lose my ground, not to lose my focus in life and cling on steadfastly to whatever values I have. Only God knows.

It's a brand new year starting from tomorrow. A brand new start.

 3:59 PM    

The past couple of months have been crazy. Work has been crazy.

I'm taking a breather now before my reservist on Monday. Two whole weeks of torture.

I'm still waiting for something amazing to happen.

 3:59 PM    

The night is as black as any other,
the same crickets in symphony out there on the grass patches
and sometimes toads will croak, in interjections.
Probably the same toads, as yesterday's
or the night before last.
Or perhaps a next generation of toads
and crickets.

I see the night through the small slit of open window,
the rest curtained, because I want to shut it out --
shut the night out. It is better to be hemmed in like this
than to let self be exposed.
I don't like that.
It is easier to deal with the night this way because the night
holds some memories --
memories that shouldn't have been memories.

And I wish I cannot hear the sound of your voice;
it is still ringing, you know, in my head, your accusatory tones.
And then the sound of the lift doors opening
and closing. The cold dust, the cold tiles, of the ground.
Oh yes, I still remember.

So I don't like to be reminded of the night.
Let me stay here
celebrating. In memoriam of
the part of self that died
that night.

 12:59 AM    

do you love him because you need him? Or do you need him because you love him?

Perhaps it's like asking someone: which comes first -- the chicken or the egg? It is indeed a question worth pondering over.

 12:09 AM    

A long time ago, I used to write poems. Or I thought of them as poems anyway. Now, looking back, perhaps they were just a collection of words meant to convey feelings which I were not able to verbalize. I suppose some people may think of me as an articulate person but articulating my emotions have never been my forte. I prefer to pen them down or in this case, type them down.

It seems to me like a different person wrote those "poems." Frankly speaking, I don't think that person, exists in me anymore. Thus, I keep on having to borrow phrases from songs that are already on my ipod/itunes, in order to depict my present state of mind. I apologize for not being very original.

Here I stand alone
With this weight upon my heart
And it will not go away
In my head I keep on looking back
Right back to the start
Wondering what it was that made you change

Well I tried
But I had to draw the line
And still this question keeps on spinning in my mind

I think a more accurate depiction would be if the line was "wondering why you never change" instead. Otherwise, the part about spinning minds is completely accurate.

 8:59 PM    

Was marking papers while listening to my itunes and an old song started playing.

there's a danger in loving somebody too much
And its sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are
Baby sometimes love just ain't enough

I've always wondered what the lyrics really meant.

 12:59 AM    

Three classes worth of exam papers are already in but I've yet to mark them. I only just submitted my last paper, which is due friday, this morning. I'm hoping to spend some time tonight to breathe abit but there's alot still to be done. Half of my to-do list will remain undone because I've given up marking holiday assignments. It's much too late to return them to students anyway.

And that's the life of an overworked teacher. So much for "reducing" our workload; most are still teaching five to six classes a week and since my school adopted the modular system for lower secondary school science, I practically see the whole sec 1 cohort plus my 4 other classes from other levels. That's ten classes worth of exam papers to mark this year. But of course, last year's twelve classes was a record. LOL.

Anyhow, I'm much calmer tonight. Was at my neighbours' house earlier, for hari raya visiting, with my mom. For a little while, as we chatted about general stuff (mostly pleasantries which are very mundane and insignificant), it seems like life is as easy as pie, as if no problem was insurmountable.

I am not nearly as angry as I was last week but it's not like everything's back to normal. I'm tired that things that shouldn't have happened just keep on happening over and over again and always regarding the same issues. Moreover, it just gets worse and worse. It will never end.

I guess I'm just a typical Sagittarian that way. I need my freedom but that doesn't mean I will wantonly disregard my responsibilities or obligations. But I'm never good with confrontations. So I do what I do best. I back out.

 11:59 PM