the beauty of randomness 1:55 pm

'I have a no-plan plan'. I can only recall Jaime's words and smile as I sit at Tanglin sipping my espresso. The sky looks threatening and the air drafts smell of botanic dew, and its queerly beautiful.

A no-plan plan. It is funny how that sits well with me considering I love my job now at strategic planning. But last evening gave testimony to this oxymoronic idea.

After late nights and a busy week at work, I was dying to leave office on Friday evening. But having no plans, I wandered along, soon to find myself at the Substation theatre. A play was about to start. Having absolutely no clue what it was about, I bought a ticket and sat down. The drama unfolded.

And as beauty of randomness goess, the director/actor turned out to be Richard Philip, an old acquaintence whom I had discussions about music some 3 years back. Truly, he is an artist with an artistic soul. Whilst having certain reservations for some elements of the acting, it was a good play in my view.

Some might say this is pure coincidence. Yet even if it were, it would not have manifested if I did not stay open to the possibility of a no-plan plan. Everyday we struggle with making plans and fulfilling them, or feeling lousy about failing in them.

Perhaps I should now spend more time being open to infinite possibilities that surround us. Plans seem to give me some sense of comfort in having something tangible to hold on to, as compared to the airy possibility of random surprises.

But I think I,m willing to take the chance. Take the chance and have more no-plan plans, and smile at the veauty of randomness in a life where everyone seems blindly obsessed with objective atructure.

It has started to rain.And I still continue to smile.



Uncle Ta

i wish there was music playing. 12:46 am

"in focus, on the line" | brawn F1 car @ Singapore GP 2009

I sit on my room floor, exhausted. Like in the movies, how I wished there was music playing. But there was none. At least with music, the loneliness seems easier to bear.

As we walked one, one by one people departed from the group; some headed to loved ones others to places of comfort. I just tag along, hoping in the end there would be something to smile about. The group gets dangerously smaller, and yet I still trudged along, the flicker of hope dimming. Soon, the group would just be left with me. In the end, there was nothing to smile about.

If this goes on I'll really learn to stop hoping.

Then there's you, to whom I've actually become a passing memory. Right from the start, the insecurity of being insignificant was always there. Naturally, my youthful optimism would constantly tell me otherwise; that I am special and significant. But nope, I'm not. Not even significant enough for goodbyes. So now you're off, and I've served my cause. All I'm left with are memories I can no longer trust.

If this goes on, I'll really learn to stop hoping. After all, everyone has warned me of the cynical adult. I'm starting to wonder if its true.

At the very least, in the meanwhile, I wish there was at least some music playing.

"all a blur" | bmw racing car @ Singapore GP 2009

Uncle T