Sunday, October 22, 2006

photo-entry of my summer..


Narcissism is in my blood.


The hallway at The resort at Sentosa. A seemingly endless walk amidst pagodas and cream coloured columns. Too many great memories, and embarassingly funny ones. =x


Claire! Singapore misses you and so do I.. *hugs*

Our resort in Phuket. =)

A walk along Karon beach. I wish I could be there now, with you.

Breathtakingly beautiful sunsets.


insatiable at 1:28 AM

0comments

Thursday, October 19, 2006

to love.

We all emerge from experiences a little bruised, chipped or broken. None of us are flawless and without emotional hang-ups. But when two people come together to share something as beautiful as love, we have to accept and love our partners for their imperfections. We take the chip off each other's shoulders, slowly break down emotional walls and delve into the other person's psyche to discover and understand what we have felt all along - that they have something special in them. But to psycho-analyse the feelings of love, to break the magic up into little practical pieces of information, to me, ruins the experience. Love is never rational, or fair, nor can it be explained. It is an obsession, a little volcano of emotions erupting, constantly, inside of me. To ask if you do things that make you love him, or you love him thus you do things is nothing more than a fruitless endeavour and a cyclical argument.

I would think the magic of love is akin to that of any other art form. Take for example, literature. I have read voraciously since I could read, and the magic is in being able to be transported into another universe just through words. As a child, I remember sitting on the floor of Popular Bookstore or MPH, reading through stacks of books, waiting for my parents while they grocery shopped at a nearby supermarket. I read everywhere, in the car (explains my 500 degree myopia), in the toilet, at family gatherings, you name it, I've read there. I remember the first day of my Prepatory Year in Tao Nan with startling clarity. I was anticipating many "Ladybird" books that I hadn't read, but was met instead with the same old titles. Needless to say, I was devastated.

But when I was in school, the system was bent on disecting the book, the paragraphs and the sentances. Every pause had to have a specific meaning, something the author wanted to convey. The choice of words were important because there was always a hidden meaning. But to me, these things add to the general atmosphere of the text, it is subtle, nuanced. The magic in it was to let these nuances affect you subconsciously, to let it lead you into the created world of the author. I hated the butchering of a thing of beauty.

But above all, the best thing to do is actually live IN the magic. Which is what I plan to do this Christmas, in Paris, in the long-awaited arms of the man I love. =)

insatiable at 1:27 AM

0comments