Aidan in polka dot pants

It's been a while since I put any pictures of Ryan and Aidan. Co-incidentally, I found this in one of my folders. This was taken when Ryan and Aidan first went to day care two months ago - one of the days when he wee wee on his pants and the teacher gave him this polka dot pants to wear instead! I told him I must definitely have this picture taken, and he happily agreed to post for me! Looking back, Aidan has grown so much! Time flies when life is filled with so many things going on at the same time.

The Beauty of Being Alone

Music full blast + the void of human interaction + vastness of the mind = the best recipe for being alone. The sense of being alone does not necessarily equate loneliness. I am a specimen of conflict elements by nature. I love the company of people, yet, I adore the spaces of solitude in between the hustle bustle of life. Night comes in such an inviting manner now that it is hard for me to resist or even refuse. Music speaks louder than any other spoken languages I can possibly comprehend, yet, it lulls you with the sweetest and most silent attraction that it can almost kill. Suddenly, the soft textures of my keyboard become extraordinarily soothing and comfortable, on this very singled out night, a night without any distractions from the outside world. The only thing that separates me and this lethargic physic yet over working mind is the endless words that try just too hard to make sense to me. Now, they do make sense to me, yet, they somehow lack depth and meaning. I don’t seem to feel them, like how I would always feel whenever I write. Is something missing? Maybe it’s this room – 0910, or maybe it is the bedside lights which seem to have a mind of their own...or could it be that I just write out of the fact that I just want to write, not because I am inspired to write? Or could it be the curtains are all pulled together? Maybe I should just pull them back and take a good look at the KL night scene from this wide window? What a bunch of excuses! Why have you failed me, words? Or was it my mind? Darn. Stop now! Let this music take over this body and this retarded brain of mine for now.

V for Vincy

Writing in front of my table lamp, listening to music was something of a lost image, a long forgotten ritual for me, but not this early Saturday morning. Fueled by her voice, Vincy, she brought me to places that I had missed so often - one particular place where I could just click away, without much reservations and worries, no second guessing myself, no self censorship and what so ever, just thoughts, thoughts that flow in me. Good music does just that. She has a very clean and crystal clear voice, I love that - her simplicity. It is so grounded. This is definitely the place to be - RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT IN TIME...enjoying the night. Everything seems to fall into place. Fall far behind are the worries of daily struggles with deadlines, schedules, work, what comes right into the foreground are more immediate issues like reflections, concentration, refining the creative thought process, those that I hold close and dear to myself. Like what she just sang, loving the air that I breathe, feeling that one feeling that you hinge on, whenever you need to write, that is what I called sterilized inspiration.