275: it don’t mean nothin’

Cut because you know you don’t want to read this unless you’re a fan. I’m turning into a freaking fangirl.

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274: so you and me, babe

Isn’t it strange how music tastes change all the time? Some songs are still my favourite songs, even though I haven’t played them in ages, and others that I love don’t get as much playtime. Some songs just can’t be looped, if you know what I mean. There’s only so many times you can play a song that’s 11 minutes long, and yet that’s got to be my favourite one. Yet, everything seems to be me, and everything you play– you don’t know it, but it tells me who you are, too. 

A few years ago I would not be caught dead with Asian music on my playlist. Yet I’ve been watching Music Station since I was 12, and I listened to Jacky Cheung in the car, before anything else. I’ve watched more Channel 8 and TVB serials than I can count, and yet I’ve never watched Sex and The City, or Gossip Girl, or Heroes. 

I would say I’m not an English language person, but we all know how that would mean I’m lying. To me they’re just different. My favourite songs in English have beautiful lyrics, things that have meaning, that need you to uncover them like some treasure. There is often a guitar somewhere, and a haunting voice. It speaks to your mind or awakens some memory. My favourite songs in Chinese are all raw, who have simple lyrics that could mean so much more, who tug at your heart strings in a uniquely Chinese way. Like thinking of searching for your face along the street you’ve walked 9 times to no avail, or having your first love buy tickets to a concert you can only think about years later when you’re married and your husband sleeps silently next to you. When I think of English songs I imagine walls must be torn down; Chinese songs speak to you, through those walls. It’s okay if they’re up, so long as you understand them. And they hear you right back.


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269: お誕生日おめでとう!

It takes a special kind of person to stop coming home drunk after a party. It takes a special kind of person to ignore the flashing lights, the booming music, and the leering eyes. A sea of white shirts wherever you go, squeezing through bodies to get to the toilet. Resisting glass after glass and bottle after bottle of whisky. You think maybe you’d be better off with a beer, or two, or none. A Coke, maybe. Then you think about how there is still work to do tomorrow, Equity and Public Law waiting for you, their siren songs turning to unpleasant wails in your head. Still, it’s a road that must be taken. And still you smell of smoke.  It takes a special kind of person to forget about all this, to let go, and just be happy. As if there is nothing on tomorrow, as if nothing is the way it was yesterday.

We got lost on the way home. It was raining and I couldn’t see anything and I knocked down a cone outside Zouk and the security guard screamed at me. It was mildly unpleasant but somehow it was funny, when everything was a haze. I probably shouldn’t have been driving. 

To the special person tonight who abandoned tomorrow and lived for today, here is your very happy 21st birthday. I know you will remember it forever and ever, even if you can’t really remember anything tomorrow. We are always here to remind you. Hur hur. :)

So the sky turns from black to purple to orange, and still the clock ticks on. When it turns blue we will wake up and life will start again.

268: seriously

Whoever typed “moots lawr grade” to get to my blog, you should be ashamed of yourself. If you want to know so badly, you should just ask your friends, instead of searching online to see if they blogged about it. 

266: 你是我的花朵


爱你伍佰年!Thank you for the ticket, guys. It was so wonderful. I sat 10 rows from the stage and I got to see every single detail up close, properly, including his 34869759 guitar changes (beautiful guitars too!) and everyone was jumping up and down with lightsticks and generally going crazy. I didn’t sit down at all the whole time, and that was over 3 hours. He gave two encores, there was a lot of fireworks, and random confetti. Whoever said Singaporeans are staid obviously aren’t going to the right concert. Chinese fans are seriously crazy. It was so fun. That said, I have never seen so many Ah Bengs congregated in one area before. Hahaha. 



In other news…


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