tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-115061342024-03-23T03:14:53.225-07:00mrdesLove Life, Running, Reading, Swimming, Writing...mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.comBlogger1241125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-22463189454927124702024-02-17T05:48:00.000-08:002024-02-17T05:48:41.165-08:00Rainbow<p>The rainbow is plastic. You didn't hear that from me. My words are my brush; you only hear the music in your ears when it sings. I hope I am not trying too hard. All stones are brittle, don't you think? Or maybe hope is a coconut - husk outside, and all pulpy inside. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-30195642312432322352023-12-31T05:33:00.000-08:002024-01-11T21:05:42.135-08:00And That is Alright<p>Long I have been away. Till, as if suddenly, 2023 has come to its end. Still, here I am, as if to sweep off the cobwebs, mop the floor and open the windows to let the air in. </p><p>One lesson learned hard: the heart is a house not to be abandoned. You live in it as much as, if not more than, your physical body. I ran, swam, wrote, read and sang as much as possible; filled my world with sweat, tears, ink and notes. These are only for my own knowledge. These are parts of the private, inner world I have built for myself. Only I am in it. And that is alright no matter how others see it. And that is alright.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-42244069642512994242023-11-27T17:39:00.000-08:002023-11-27T17:41:25.701-08:00Time Waits<p>The sun tells time, rising and rising, then falling and falling. While the wind pretends to be time, alluring yet elusive. When darkness descends, the mysterious night shades lives into shadows, reaching into every heart. </p><p>We are part of day, as we are part of night. So, after all, time does wait. Wait for her turn. Allow you to come home, take off your shoes, lift both feet off the ground. At last. Time slows down, turns her page softer, softer, as you close your eyes. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-50392059159569929892023-11-26T06:11:00.000-08:002023-11-26T15:16:19.246-08:00Keep Moving...<p>Again, it is not that I have not been writing that makes this page empty. Though not as much, I am still writing on my Facebook and my hand-written journals. So all is fine. Life, to move on, finds its own way out. And life always moves on. </p><p>Perhaps not writing here does have its benefits. For one, I now doubt anyone is following my blog, which gives me the power of anonymity - yes, I am that way, though I have never met any of my readers in person, I know some may be of a vulnerable age - to free my thoughts. </p><p>I don't smoke, or drink excessively. No, nothing like that. In fact, I am a running addict - for the uninitiated, it means you get hooked on the running high, the energy or self-confidence. But I do have a dark side. I am a man. A single man. Some days, when evening comes, and everyone goes back to their family, I ponder my options. I don't remember when it started, and though I wasn't physically there, my mind was: Geylang. Yes, I visited the legal brothel, the red-light district. It did not just start suddenly; it took a lot of self-convincing, or self-deception, whatever you like to call it. And almost every time, it is a guilt trip. It is a matter of satisfying a natural need, like a nature's call, I said to myself. A thousand times, before and after. And to make things worse, maybe because I have started having sex so late in my life, I just couldn't finish the job in a woman's vagina, only by a handjob, or maybe I am just not used to wearing condom, I don't know; how would I know?</p><p>Just on Saturday, I just visited one, an illegal one, that I booked via a website. And for the first time, I did it, finished the job with a condom inside her. Honestly speaking, it felt nothing special. It is just sex. I don't feel sad that I am missing something special in my life. Nothing like that. Neither does it encourage me to visit her or another one soon - she did offer that we go for a second. </p><p>Still, life moves on after that. I went for my run and back home. Just like any other Saturday. Yes, it must be true that man has the ability to differentiate sex and love, which explained my flat emotion. It is safe to say that I have "trained" myself well as a single man. Or rather, I just do what I need to do to survive, to keep moving...</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-48828088423279878192023-10-05T06:52:00.006-07:002023-10-05T06:55:55.930-07:00Raising<p>I can say to be going through a rough patch in my personal life - nothing to do with the office, or my immediate family members. I have to come to term with myself in more than one way. I have also come to believe there is a time for everything. And when it is over, it is over - there is no way back and there is no point crying over spilled milk. I know, and already knew that life, being single or otherwise, is not going to be easy. And there is a purpose in life being difficult, of course: the harder it is, the harder is the lesson learned, the stronger you become. And by being stronger, it doesn't mean you will not make mistakes, or fall down, or the path will be smoother. Well, a little smoother maybe, but the point is that having seen it all - nothing much fazes you - you are more likely to take to the pain well, to rebound faster. Like when I was younger, I used to say: the show must go on. With or without fireworks. Even the calm raise of night walls, though enfeebling, opens minds in its dark suggestion of infinity.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-86190059487674971452023-09-09T00:19:00.006-07:002023-09-09T00:40:32.207-07:00Never Been Yourself<p>To good effect, I am not really a bad person. For good reason too. But sometimes, I don't even know what that means. Fundamentally, I just live to get out of trouble. With the law, with other people, avoid embarrassing my immediate family, those I still have regular close contact with. I don't want to have to face the day when I have no face to face them, yet have to. I don't know what I would become, faceless? I definitely wouldn't be able to meet them in the eyes, with my eyes. So, it is safe to say, I am a good actor, acting to be a good person. And a willing one too. Till I even begin to believe I am a good person. Look, we all have to compromise at one point or another. We can never be our selves truly. How can you be when you don't even know what it is, what it feels like. That is, to be yourself. I lie, even to myself, that this is me. And that is fine with me. The question is, is it fine with you, for having never been yourself?</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-48264625348910091742023-08-25T22:38:00.007-07:002023-08-25T22:50:32.256-07:00If This World were a Song...<p>There is nothing much to do these days except to take each day in its stride. Nay, it would be grossly inappropriate to say that, a child of mental fatigue born out of wedlock. One wonders at what age will one get to slow down, to take it easy. And what is next when that happens - a regression? One thing for sure: one should not, in any circumstance, remain still for too long. Dust, or rust, may gather, invade the head. Lines will slowly fade away; write them before they are lost. Move! Be moving! Shake off the rigidness. I am not calling for tears to fall, or tear in the head. Just me reaching for myself - one word every moment. If this world were a song, what will be your verse?</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-61857554813172611732023-08-22T06:48:00.004-07:002023-08-22T06:54:42.534-07:00My Story for Now<p>I think I need to relax more, draw more joy, from my time spent at the office. Easier said than done, for someone like me. For firstly, I am the kind of person who I think works better when fully in focus - either that or I get rather careless. And I can be led by the nose by my environment, that is, I run when I am surround by runners, and I read when I am around readers. It is rather simple if you think about it, how I am driven to do things. Not that I think it is a bad thing, but on the contrary, it allows me to blend in, to feel a sense of purpose being part of a bigger scheme. It is like there is a time for everything, and a place for everything. And this thinking suits me like glove to hand for someone who is comfort with a regimented life - as much as I like to embrace change. Though, it stops itself from becoming an austere life that straitjackets every last breath. But that is a story for another day.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-47635297469910450122023-08-20T07:39:00.002-07:002023-08-20T07:39:32.108-07:00Easier<p>I just bought a new laptop, an impulse buy, and I am now trying to get used to its keyboard. I guess it will take some time. Being single has its advantages: one being the financial flexibility. And of course, we have more time to ourselves, which makes planning easier. Having heard the PM's speech, it seems that it will be easier for singles to get their own flats too, as the flexi-2 rooms will be available to them regardless of estate maturity and they will not be restricted to BTO. And it will be easier for our elderly citizens to live alone. This definitely represents a shift in our government mindset, all at no cost to our future generation. After years of addressing our falling birth-rate to no avail, we have come face to face with an aging generation. And the coming change of policies is a white flag of sorts.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-59518357593512158512023-08-08T08:56:00.002-07:002023-08-08T09:00:04.973-07:00Uniqueness<p>Maybe I need a bucket list - who don't? I am now convinced that you need a purpose in life, to give it meaning. Mine was to write a book at one time - which explains my regular writing and reading. Another time before that, it was the pursuit of happiness - that is spending time on things that make me happy. Attaining happiness sounds so simple then. Now, part of me realised that life is also about responsibility. In a good sense, you are responsible for yourself, in exploring your own uniqueness, as you come out with your own solutions and decisions to fulfill the tasks in each moment that life bestows. It is your uniqueness, which belongs only to you, that gives you the power and the freedom to do so. So why not seize every moment to plow, plant your seeds and watch them grow. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-82133093122274595282023-07-29T18:56:00.010-07:002023-07-29T19:04:30.719-07:00As We Age...<p>I have never stopped writing. I write on my facebook, two paperback journals. And listen, I went back to listening and singing Leslie Cheung's old songs, and am enjoying myself more than ever - there are things you learn to appreciate more as you get older. No, I am not going back to my old self. I have changed, I like to think. I need more of it though. Change is never enough. At the end of the day, no matter how much the outside world changes, your inner world need not change; you only need to age, to change at your own pace, at your own time. Just like Leslie Cheung's vocal, how it changed over time, as he aged, or even now, as we age...</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-81857043740744174192023-07-04T05:13:00.006-07:002023-07-04T05:36:01.124-07:00Oh Please<div style="text-align: left;">Oh please, don't tell anyone<br />how much you love your self</div><div style="text-align: left;">when all you remember</div><div style="text-align: left;">is your own name, how</div><div style="text-align: left;">you count every tiny</div><div style="text-align: left;">white flake for hair, where </div><div style="text-align: left;">you don't remember what</div><div style="text-align: left;">is your mum's age (she says it</div><div style="text-align: left;">is a secret).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh please, don't tell anyone</div><div style="text-align: left;">how much you love this</div><div style="text-align: left;">world, how you cry when sharks</div><div style="text-align: left;">bleed for their fins, how pigs, </div><div style="text-align: left;">chicken cry out for the last time</div><div style="text-align: left;">as you can't live without them</div><div style="text-align: left;">on your plate,</div><div style="text-align: left;">oh how wicked!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh please, don't tell anyone</div><div style="text-align: left;">how you cry in joy or grief,</div><div style="text-align: left;">even when watching TV,</div><div style="text-align: left;">or when this or that movie</div><div style="text-align: left;">star passes on, you feel</div><div style="text-align: left;">like passing on too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">P.S.: Oh please, this is not poetry...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-63616078599428847862023-06-28T20:55:00.002-07:002023-06-28T21:01:20.612-07:00An Emblem for Well Living<p>First, you must talk about the now and present. It is about living as well as you can in the present moment as we speak. Be as you are, as you want yourself to be - the best version of it, as you know it at that moment. I guess there are compromises to be made; after all, men are social animal. One of my cornerstone is to be calm at all instances, not to be overwhelmed by any one emotion. And not to hold on to any resentment for far too long, especially towards things beyond one's control. To understand one's surroundings, including happenings and people, their good and bad, so as to manage your own expectations and not to fall into any illusions. In this way, you will be at peace with yourself, in harmony with the things and people in this world. After all, we are all travellers passing through. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-36040215558602713512023-06-20T07:37:00.003-07:002023-06-20T07:39:01.221-07:00Mental HealthOne of the first thing I learned during recent happenings at the office is to expect the unexpected when it comes to change. Be adaptable if you want to survive. There is really no two ways about it, sad to say. And one of the best thing, I think, about being in the company for so long, is that you somehow know how much support you can expect facing the changes. There is little, next to none, change management. We are expected to take it or leave it, that is how I put it best. Still, another precious thing I learned, which I will take it with me for life, and is so simple that you may be staring at it right in front of your face, yet do not notice it: that mental health, like physical health, is your own personal responsibility. You don't expect your employer to support you in any manner when pressing work is at stake. You have to deal with your work related stress in your own way; employers do not own you, the general worker, that much, let us be real about it. mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-67531571913779110772023-06-13T07:04:00.002-07:002023-06-13T07:05:20.058-07:00No Word<p>I guess once in a while, one has to give himself some encouragement. I realised too the power of positive self-talk. And it does no harm to take a breather. Or even reward yourself with something tangible. I still, and will always, remember how at the age of forty, I picked up the world of classical music. For this, I have the library@esplanade and "That CD" shop to thank. From Chopin (the most relatable), Bach, Beethoven to Vivaldi, they can fill up any empty soul and bestow ascension of the spirit. I sometimes wonder where would I be without music. To think that classical music, just like any other music, are only sounds play at certain interval, at different pitch, yet it can stir emotions from their deep slumber. Some of which, you never even know exist, as you don't even have word for them. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-86719208117745223362023-04-30T05:52:00.002-07:002023-04-30T07:29:31.604-07:00In Fact...<p>There are so many words. In fact, too many. Yet, not enough. Never enough. You go over a mountain, there is another, then another. Wave after wave. The words are unstoppable. Yet, never enough. Never enough.</p><p>Sometime, you bury your face where ten fingers fit perfectly. No word comes out. Yet, no word is needed. Not that we do not care. In fact, we care too much. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-54965137444464013972023-04-27T07:08:00.004-07:002023-04-27T07:09:30.207-07:00Lesser People<p>To know one's place in an environment or situation is great wisdom indeed. For one will be able to manoeuvre amidst one's peers without much trouble. It also implies you know your own role and responsibilities well and ensures that the best person selected correctly for each role has the freedom to do his job without any undue interference or influence from lesser people. Now, I acted like part of that group today, and am hoping it will not result in any serious repercussion.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-14175618556180315712023-04-08T22:52:00.003-07:002023-04-09T03:25:05.381-07:00Perfect<div style="text-align: left;">why do you of the problem? </div><div style="text-align: left;"> think I am are all part <br /> the problem when we</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> say it as if</div><div style="text-align: left;"> to you </div><div style="text-align: left;"> have are </div><div style="text-align: left;"> you all </div><div style="text-align: left;"> and perfect.</div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-69699378232765176832023-04-08T08:01:00.002-07:002023-04-08T08:11:29.841-07:00Queen<div style="text-align: left;">Folding into myself<br />an origami everytime</div><div style="text-align: left;">the night darkens </div><div style="text-align: left;">her face.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am on paper</div><div style="text-align: left;">a soldier of the night</div><div style="text-align: left;">who waves her sceptre,</div><div style="text-align: left;">sends me shivers,</div><div style="text-align: left;">to break me down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">P.S.: So I fight on, against sleep, or near-death, or whatever that numbing sensation brings, as the night wave breaks on the shore of my conscious again and again.</div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-81079112993585193312023-04-02T00:28:00.005-07:002023-04-02T00:28:57.216-07:00She<p>She is me; I am her. She is in me; I am in her. From morn to dark. We don't make a sound to each other, yet we read each other's thoughts like a book; nobody else knows me like she does, as nobody else knows her like I do. This is a perfect match, she and I. There is nothing else like us. When I disappear from this world, she will too. And we will emerge as one again in the next arena in our eternal grind.</p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-22729348211463283342023-03-24T20:37:00.003-07:002023-03-25T08:21:46.444-07:00The Philosophy of Loneliness<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>The Philosophy of Loneliness</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span>For a moment I have<br />My own words bouncing <br />Only for me off my<br />Brain's walls and that is<br />For me, more than<br />Enough. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">- Des, 25 Mar 2018</div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-7273979343527133912023-03-23T06:42:00.002-07:002023-03-23T06:56:57.337-07:00I Hear Not<div style="text-align: left;"><u>I hear not</u></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">eating my heart out I hear not</div><div style="text-align: left;">a squeak inside out</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">safe to say I hear not</div><div style="text-align: left;">fear or tears</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">a ship I hear not</div><div style="text-align: left;">set to sail out far</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">a body I hear not</div><div style="text-align: left;">but a stone grounded</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">a flap of wing I hear not</div><div style="text-align: left;">but the still of night long</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">P.S.: This is gibberish trying to pass itself off as poetry. No, nothing to do with the poet.</div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-84581066509763979642023-03-18T20:59:00.007-07:002023-03-18T22:59:52.326-07:00Qualified to be a Gigolo (Written half-in-jest)<p>The nature of my job is such that part of it involves dealing with HR personnels from myriad business entities. At times I have to advise them directly over a phone conversation in navigating a website. This is in view of the facts that I am unable to access the system live, and how our government has strongly advocated a smart nation mindset, yet we are facing an aging population trying to catch up with the speed of technological disruption. So it is easy to perceive the size of my ordeal. Now, there is no sexism here, but most of the HR personnels I cross sword with, happens to be females of advance ages. Alright, I am guessing here, judging the persons behind the voices over the phone: part of my job hazard. But you can trust me here, given the number of calls I made a working day. </p><p>I must have mentioned before that I have a shortage of patience, with myself, and others; I like to get things moving fast. And guiding aged women on a monitor screen that you cannot see takes god-like patience and grit, to name a few things. It is almost like the role of a medieval jester with an entertaining balancing act, perhaps with three balls in hands, jovial all the way. At this point you may think that I am ill-suited for this role, and rightly so. But I do have other strengths and I have trained hard - especially in terms of removing mental barriers and boundaries - to be what I am doing now at the office. So it is only right to say that I have acquired certain level of competency in "entertaining" aged women. In other words, I find myself qualified to be a gigolo! Shocking but true. All I need is some upgrade: an facial one in Seoul, a hair-growing one with Beijing 101 and such, and lastly a few trips to Armani to complete the trick. LIke all businesses there must be monetary and time investment, which comes with their respective risks. Still, I am only that few steps away from being a gigolo. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-46391617830422683562023-03-11T19:37:00.005-08:002023-03-11T20:15:03.878-08:00Be Forgiving<p>There are so many gaps in my psyche that it will take more than a lifetime to fill them. But it is okay; I will have to learn to deal with that - one day at a time - for what else is there to do. There will always be self-doubt, mistakes - the trick is to admit to them to yourself first. Considering change or to evolve takes time, this you deserve all you need. I guess you have to be also patient with yourself, and forgiving with yourself. After all, you are the only one living now, or in the near future, with yourself.</p><p>P.S.: Is it the same bitterness, which commonly comes with age, that exposes your "unforgiveness" with yourself? After all, the world will only be perfect - if there is even such a state - if you are perfect. </p>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11506134.post-38751616043515985742023-03-04T19:45:00.003-08:002023-03-04T19:45:45.249-08:00PointThere must be a point you arrive at in your life where nothing really matters, everything turns trival. Everything, except your own life, as in your own health, which defines your existence. You can see it in an office environment too, of course: your life is your employment eligibility; except that you can always change employment, or office. Still, health is wealth; no employer loves an employee who is always absent for whatever reason. And I am relishing a second "life". Or rather I "revent" my life at the office, take on a different role, which taps on different skillsets and relies on my experience and knowledge. I guess it is part of a natural progression due to my seniority, and the key is to keep learning. Now, the last point I have no doubt.<div><br /></div><div>P.S.: I wish that I had written more on this page. I can't even comprehend where have my days gone to, even though I have reduced my hours at the office.</div>mrdeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18295693638323067002noreply@blogger.com0