That sugar cane...

Listening to: [ R.E.M. - Imitation of Life ]

It's been a funny sort of week.
While i got most of my university studies done, two significant things happened in this whole ordeal that stood out form the rest.

Firstly, Mike left the band. He left because he said he had no time and cannot afford to commit to the band anymore... Chalkboard fell behind and as i have pushed for a late March launch it's not going to happen but we can still manage a mid April launch i think with full artwork and a more organized marketing campaign so the push back will be worth it.

The other event, i was trying to fix my network between my sisters computer my own which I think did more harm than good because i resorted to starting the network from scratch because i thought the network had conflicting protocols and deleted an import file... which led me to search for my Windows XP cd... packed in a box somewhere under my bed. There, i found a dull green manuscript, my diary from year 8.

Saying the number of years out loud, 9 years makes me realise how fast time really is.

Anyway, having said that... flicking through it i remembered we used an old system of "good" and "bad" notes where teachers would write down what you've done to deserve them.

Some of them were, "Jason must not talk", "Did not be silent during reading time", "disruptive in class", "did not bring his PE gear", "did not obey teachers instructions"

and here's a funny one "fell off chair and make a ruckus" <- i love that one.

Slap a few detentions, late notes, and the thousands of notes to teachers about why i did not hand in an assessment or failure to complete my homework in a handwriting and signature that looks remarkably like mine definitely made me smile.

I don't remember the boy i used to be, but i have flashes about how fun it was to misbehave, to laugh all day, to spend the annual income of $2 at the tuckshop and the bounty we can buy with two whole “bucks”.
This will be reserved for a full blog about 1997, but as i flicked towards the end of the diary i made a "signature" section (which i must admit was neatly coloured in bright waxed crayons, I loved my crayons.) had general well wishing for the next year... in this faded blue ballpoint note read : "Hey Brotha, Best wishes next year" and another inscription in the same writing next to the original "okay i'm just filling space... don't forget me.... your brothers... wamy (lawsom), Necro(Chow), Monin..."

Only to realise that handwriting is Minh's.

It's been nearly 3 years now since he passed away, as i write this i still feel like i can look up the address and telephone section of my diary and call him. It hit home hard today and made me pause stay in a trace-like state for about a half an hour. Reading through my diary, i traveled through time as though i'm seeing myself in the past playing hockey and four square with some kids that i would say my life evolved around... and on the other side of the door stood me alone.

In a way, i'm happy the memories i have of my dearest friend is a good one... full of singing, being a menace, that true essence of being a child like the one depicted in the movie "stand by me"... i want to talk to my friend... i want to tell him the world has changed since that year and what i'm doing now.

He'd probably ask me am i happy? I'd say not really and i can imagine "well then, BE HAPPY THEN!" because that how irrational Minh was, and how we all were.
Maybe the answer we’re all looking for is as simple as that… just be happy!

“I’ve got uni” … so?
“I got a speeding fine” … so what?

When i think about it now, life's just a flashing moment... a memory in someone else’s eyes because if 9 years can go by like that then our lives are nothing more than trivia and an split instant in the universe.

I glad that the life of Minh lives and survived in the people who knew him best.
A rebel, a star, a hero and a brother. Come home soon old friend, i really miss you. I don't believe in RIP (Rest in peace) but rather, AAW (Alive and well) because i think that's how he'll always be... really.

I'm listening on a song (on repeat).
It captures what i'm trying to say really well.

-Jay

R.E.M. - Imitation of Life

Charades, pop skill
Water hyacinth, named by a poet.
Imitation of life
Like a koi in a frozen pond
Like a goldfish in a bowl
I don’t want to hear you cry

Thats sugarcane that tasted good
Thats cinnamon thats hollywood
C’mon c’mon no one can see you try

You want the greatest thing
The greatest thing since bread came sliced.
You’ve got it all, you’ve got it sized.
Like a friday fashion show teenager
Freezing in the corner
Trying to look like you don’t try

Thats sugarcane that tasted good.
Thats cinnamon thats hollywood
C’mon c’mon no one can see you try

No one can see you cry

Thats sugarcane that tasted good
Thats freezing rain thats what you could
C’mon c’mon no one can see you cry

This sugarcane
This lemonade
This hurricane, I’m not afraid.
C’mon c’mon no one can see me cry
This lightning storm
This tidal wave
This avalanche, I’m not afraid.
C’mon c’mon no one can see me cry

Thats sugarcane that tasted good
Thats who you are, thats what you could
C’mon c’mon no one can see you cry

Thats sugarcane that tasted good
Thats who you are, thats what you could
C’mon c’mon no one can see you cry