I was just randomly thinking of the past. The past when I was back in Secondary School. The past, when my classmates and I would queue outside class every morning for assembly when the sky was still dark. The past when we would wait for one another after class to go to the preview theater or some sort for another Literature class and watch films on “Twelfth Night”. The past when we would go to the ever so crowed canteen together, and queue up at the same stall, for the same food. We knew what each of us likes, and we often made jokes about it. Like how great it would be to make a ‘tofu’ drink, since the tofu sause was so damn nice… And some would frown in disgust. And how we would shout at each other from the assembly ground to the class if we have forgotten to take something, or just for the fun of it. And how some of us lazy ones liked to forn the ‘slackers’ club when we had to do specific activities for PE that we didn’t quite enjoy. Those were the days, the days that made me smile, the days that taught me that life was exciting, the days that were pretty much just perfect. Everything was on our side, everything seemed sunny and cheerful. Except for A Maths, though. But life was great.
Life’s great now, too. I’m enjoying what I’m doing. The lack of sleep is sometimes fun. I’m doing things that make me excited about the world. But it all seemed mroe complicated now. Things have changed. I’ve fallen into deeper shit, and am still struggling out of it. I’ve probably led myself into darker alleys where searching for the light seemed hard and impossible. But Im still walking. I’ve fallen countless times, and have gotten dust on my head. But I’m burshing them off, and moving on. So for now, things are fine. Life’s moving on.
It’s the future I’m afraid of. Nothing to fear, some would say, we all go through it. Yes we do, but we are all individuals. I’m scared. I dont know what’s in store for me. I dont know the paths I’d take, although I’ve made preparations. I dont know what kind of person I’d become, like as if I knew who I am right now. I dont know what university will I go to, what job will I have, what kind of family will I land myself into. I’m afraid, I have to admit. And I dont know who’s here to help, who’s here to support. I feel lost at times, it’s scary.
I was watching the music video of Plain White T’s ‘Hey There Delilah’, and there was this shot of a girl walking alone in some city in New York I think. That image somehow made me scared. Where will I be walking in 5 years time? Singapore? Hong Kong? US? UK? I dont know, therefore I fear. I’m afraid of the future. Who’s going to thread the path with me? Who’s going to lead me on and hold my hand when I’m scared? Who’s going to carry me when my feets are aching from all that walk? I dont know. I’m scared. I hope I knew, but somehow, god is preventing me from knowing the truths just yet. Why? I don’t know, therefore I fear.
The future is scary. There’s so much mystery hidden from us. So much that is not revealed just yet. We have to wait. Let time lead us, move us forward. I guess that’s the only way out. And to believe in myself. That the clouds will clear, and I will be able to see who am I, and what am I. It’s frightening, but sometimes, it gets exciting too. All that fun. All that discovery. All that pain.
I am not ready for the future. There’s so much to do, so much to prep. But I hope one day, I’ll know what I really want in life. It’s too short for regrets. Like in the film “Happy Together” by Wong Kar-Wai, a character said that he has regretted something so much, the regret could kill him. I dont want this to happen to me again. Not that it hasn’t happened to me before. Not again, I just hope. I’m still recovering from the regret, though. But I’ll be fine, at least I tell myself.
Sometimes I want to ask the god above what is HE doing with me? Putting me through much s***, ‘giving’ me things I’d rather not have while taking away the things I want so much. Is it some kind of excahange? I hope to swap it for the things I’d rather have. Cant be bought, it’s a blessing that I wish to have.. But oh wells. I know I’m blessed in my very own way. If i could switch my life for someone elses, I’d rather not. I just hoped that certain things would have turned out the way I dreaded them to. But I guess the more one is blessed with, the less he/she learns and experiences, the less one gets, the more he/she grows. I believe this saying to be true…
We all got to start somewhere. You think I’m troubled, I probably am.
Anyway, I’m beginning to love Asian films. All thanks to Regional Cinema class. This is where my roots is. This is therefore where my heart is. Hate it real bad when people ignore and despise their very own culture, tradition, and very own self. It’s plain disgusting. I’ve seen many such people in an evolving Asia these days. It’s sad, stupid, and as I said, disgusting.
Back to topic. I’m going to do a presentation on Hong Kong director Wong Kar-Wai, the blockbuster ‘failure’ but arthouse darling, as my lecturer puts it. And I’ve just watch Eros, Chingking Express and Happy Together. Great masterpiece. Visual treat. Thought provoking stories. Emotional content. Everything combined into one, so beautifully pieced together. Wong Kar-Wai and Director of Photography Christopher Doyle make the best Asian filmmaker ‘couple’. Just like Emmanuel Lubezki is with Mexican director Alfonso Cuaron. Their child is a work of art, almost to the likes of pure magic.
We’ve just watched Farewell, my Concubine in class. It was yet another Asian masterpiece. After the film, i was awestrucked. I couldn’t believe this could actually be made. Honestly. There was so much to think about, so much to cry about. Love seperated by time and believes. Dreams dashed by an event leading to another. Hearts broken by lies and the need for survival. Futures destroyed by jealously and the inability to handle situations. What a sad film. What a perfect film. Deyi’s situation is what I can relate with, minus the question of his own sexuality. That, for sure, I’m glad I’m fine..
My lecturer made a point in class the other day, which I thought was so true and so honest to one. I’ve been thinking of it for days, and have to voice my thoughts here.
I used to hate the Japanses. They freaking murdered my great grandfather in the bastardised World War II. He died is their hands, leaving my poor great grandmother and grandmother and her siblings living difficult lives in fear for the tomorrow. So, I hated most things Japanses. Their films inculded. Anime, dramas and whatever shit they produced. That, at least, was my past perception. But one day, my lecturer said: Art transcends all boundaries. Deyi agreed to perform for the Japanese because someone among the crowd really liked Chinese Opera (refering to the film Farewell, My Concubine). There was an exchange in art. The Japanses were the Chinese’s enemy, but since he liked Chinese Opera, Deyi agreed to perform for him. Some people say they hate Japanses and thus will not watch their films. But if this is art, shouldn’t we all embrace it together, regradless of country, culture, language, background? If it was a pure form of art, it is for the world to share.
His statement strucked me. I sat in the lecture hall, speechless. How naive I was. How dumb. Anime, though so too cute I cant stand some of them, are a form of art. They have a story to tell. I was wrong. I needed to repent and change. If I call myself someone who loves art, how can I reject the art a country offers, despite the painful past they have left my country with? I can hate the World War II they started. I can hate their guts and stupidity. I can hate the fact that my great grandfather’s blood is stained on their palms. Togehter with many other of my ancestors in Singapore. But if they produce art too, should I love their art? Art, as I repeat, trancends all boundaries.
Art, in it’s finest, is gold.