Lenka

I love new experiences. When we get older, novel experiences are fewer and harder to come by. Once we experience something new, the next time, that thing loses its magic and we're no longer spellbound as before. Instead, we grow to expect the same old things happening all over again and the novelty wears off. We lose the childlike wonder that we once had.

The point is, I'll never forget my first experience of entering a nightclub and attending a gig! The waiting time was agonizing though. I was so mesmerized staring at the psychedelic strobe lights hanging from the ceiling, and every atom of my body seemed to be pulsating in time to the music.

Then, Lenka stepped onto the stage and it was worth the wait. We were wowed with her pitch perfect vocals and how cute and charming she was. It was an amazing feeling singing along with a bunch of strangers who loved Lenka too. She did a cover of the Cure's Friday I'm in love, which drove the older crowd wild.( anyway we Singaporeans are still pretty tame compared to our more spontaneous counterparts in the neighbouring countries) At the end, she sang acapella, with the world war 2 radio transmission crackling in the background. It was rather unsettling, as her mournful voice echoed throughout the room.

Watching her perform live made me adore her even more. She's like a modern day Peter Pan.
Her voice is so refreshingly unique and her songs are just the right mix of bubblegum and spice. Everything about her screams quirkiness: the way she pounds away at the keyboard and shakes her shoulders to the beat, the gorgeous cover art on her album, her original music videos, the beautifully decorated paper butterfly stuck on her keyboard...

Sound people

If I possessed any shred of self-preservation, I would have given up a long time ago. But I don't. And look where it's got me now.


I wish I could tell you how extraordinary I think you are.

Take a chance

I'll be the lyrics on the tip of your tongue as you lie staring up at the ceiling.

I'll be the quiet stillness of the early dawn.

I'll be the shadow of a dream you once had, the mortal delusion you are so reluctant to part with as you wake up.

I'll be the life buoy you cling on to when the waves are crashing over your helpless self.

I'll be the colours bleeding into one as you drink in the sunrise.

I'll be the song you hum under your breath as you journey forth.

I'll be the hidden back alleys you traverse through if you desire a change of scene.

I'll be your source of inspiration when your imagination fails you.

I'll be whoever you want me to be.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens up your chest and your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defences, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you.

Then one stupid person, no different from any other person, wanders into your stupid life.You give them a piece of you. They didn't as for it.They did something stupid one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you and leaves you crying in the darkness. So simple a phrase' Maybe we should just be friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts,not just in the imagination, not just in the mind. It's a soul hurt, a real get-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I hate love.

-The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman

What do you do when you are totally consumed by fear?

God, I am on my knees, begging for a miracle.

Nothing is ever as perfect as you want it to be

Sometimes the people closest to you say the words you dread the most to hear. Unwittingly, they tell you ugly truths about yourself, use words that wound you deeply. One part of you longs to cover your ears and block out what they're saying, say equally hurtful things just to spite them back, do anything to make them stop. Because you hate to admit that there's some truth to what they're saying, even though it doesn't make you feel good about yourself. Unsaid somehow, it remains untrue.

Don't hate them for saying it.

You're the city lights, all by yourself

The dancing tongues of fire draw you closer and closer to its deadly heat like a magnet, until you're mesmerized, transfixed by the strange and terrible beauty of the scorching fire. You think to yourself,"We are all slaves of what we desire."

Oblivious to the warnings, you slowly reach out and touch the flickering flames, forgetting that the consequences will be dire if you do such a reckless thing. For one second, you feel oddly euphoric, and then, a cry of pain escapes from your lips as the leaping flames sear your fingertips- a sweet, twisted agony. As the saying goes, once bitten, twice as shy. You are no exception to that rule, so you hastily withdraw, tending to your wounds and vowing never to become sucked into the irresistible pull of the flames again.

I wish.. no. I'm wishing for the impossible.