Like Brighton, I thought York was going to be a bore as well.

Lets just say that I thought that London Aquarium would be awesome (because I just find fascination in the deep blue and how fishes look so surreal floating if you look at them long enough) , but it turned out to be a major disappointment. I still wonder how they made it look so impressive in the movie Closer.

Went there to visit my uncle and took this on the way to his place. No the flowers weren’t pink. It was mostly green, but this IR filter trick makes it like an alien place and I like how it turned out. The suburbs of York were mostly like what you see below, but with more houses around and a few pubs and bars littered around, along with your ever convenient convenience store (Ha ha).

A person’s place says a lot about them, because home is where your heart is.

Uncle prepared a small feast of frozen dim sum, buns and coffee for us, which was a welcoming sight after the long train ride there, including some wafers and bottled flavoured water for us while we explored the city.

The next day, I picked up a “Thank You” card from the V&A museum and mailed it to him. It was a strange moment when I decided that I shall know more about others before making up my mind about them.

On the side note, during the train ride, there was this adorable toddler sitting opposite us who thought it was really funny to smash her apple paste packet while her mom was opening it for her. I remembered trying to stifle laughter when her mom exclaimed “Alexandria!” with a slight French accent while she giggled happily, impervious to the rather huge mess she made. I concluded that we made friends after she tried offering me some baby biscuits as well as her mother’s Blackberry. Of course, overhead toss wasn’t the best way to pass things around. Well, there are only so many things you can do during a long train ride.

The streets of York had dogs which looked like they had seen better days/would fit the role of “animal companion of protagonist who survives a nuclear apocalypse”. This one squats like a toad and looks like his ass has found the most comfortable position along that street. Makes me chuckle all the time.

Little girl was talking with her dolls and looking really bored while waiting for her parents. I took a long time to frame this right, considering the street was quite busy and my 50mm was a little buggy with its focus at that point, but it was worth this shot.

The street performer whom people would give a second look if he had a name and some fame.

I really love the streets of York though. It’s all artsy fartsy and with little random shops about. I THINK it was the one with this small antique store with an old cast metal fonts and film cameras for sale, but then again, that one might have been Brighton.

Ducks at some small park. Uncle brought us to the University of York later that day to see the ducks there (which were pretty impressive and rather greedy as well). I know some people who would hate that place (haha) but I think inadvertently stepping on duck poop the size of cocktail sausages was a lot more revolting.

We also had this retarded game to see who could chase a duck into the water first. In my defence, I wasn’t 21 then. It was fun though.

Early spring brought some colour into cold. There was a wedding going on that day as well, so it was kind of timely for the lucky couple. It was a pretty funny crowd. I swear I saw some goths dressed well enough for a wedding surprisingly, if it was even possible.

Chanced upon this little girl who was feeding the pigeons which were practically swarming her. After she was done, she went about shooing them away in a amusingly stern manner which was more suited for a teacher in a classroom.

I don’t care, but ice cream is perfect for any weather.

I did mention to a friend of mine, that I would imagine heaven to be like Brighton’s pier, unending stretch of blue, and familiarity of a long lost time.

Journey there was a few hours ride with chocolate and drifting sleep.

Pretty much a ghost train at the later points of the trip. Kind of justified my gut feeling that Brighton was a quiet little place. Honestly, at the beginning of the trip, I had my reservations about the sort of place Brighton might be.

Stepping off the train, we were greeted by what I imagined it would be; the expected whitewashed houses with light blue and seafoam coloured details down the slope which led down to the sea. Small cafes with equally smaller business names, and little niche shops: antique, secondhand and souvenirs. We dropped by one of the cafes to pick up some coffee and apple ginger tea to wash the sleep away while we waited for the bicycle shop to open.

“Have a significant day! See you when you are older!” was what was written above the door.

Further down would be the more active area of Brighton with a little more traffic and of course, the Brighton Pier.

It was a lot more amazing than what I expected it to be, endless blue and a pebble beach, like the sea swallowed the sand and spat it out as smooth amber stones. And the wood and steel structure of the pier which lay above the deep blue sea, with it’s old school grandeur; a dome filled with arcades and claw machines and a small carnival deeper inside the pier.

We ended up cycling down the whole stretch of the coast.

Golden and fluffy. Every dog has its day.

If I lived around this sort of place, I’d come down every weekend.

I have no idea what I was pointing to, but there’s probably someone out there.

Sadly, this was the furthest we could manage to go before we hit private property (Which wasn’t too far in to be honest, just over a highway).

I always liked the feeling of being on top of endless hills, ever since I went to New Zealand as a little kid. It’s hard to describe that refreshing feeling, but you know it when you see it.

Had a few minutes to kill after the day while waiting for the trains, so we dropped by a few shops along the way to browse comic books and caught this old man fixing up some train models at the toy museum close by the bicycle shop.

Someday I want to go back there.

Probably had a better 21st than I expected. Really appreciated how the guys in my church cell turned up at 12am on the 19th to present me chocolate cake, only to have security chase us off because of excessive noise, so we ended up in the park eating cake and fooling around with a metal knife and lighter. I don’t have pictures of that, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget about it.

And there’s my little bro and his cute present of a trophy with the words “World’s Best Brother” on it and a nice card with Pokemon stickers in it and a cute little Pichu paper hat which came with the purchase because they were having some promotion then (I admit, I have been playing Pokemon Black and Advance Wars on my DS because one day I saw my blue DS of army days sitting around forlornly after finishing Pokemon Heart Gold several months ago in camp, and I was thinking am I getting my money’s worth from that? And next thing I knew, I had an Acecard running with some help from a friend. Hey Pokemon is awesome. Don’t give me that look!) and the words “I hope you get a girlfriend soon” written in the card.

Mom clarified with me in my half asleep daze that it wasn’t her idea. It gave me a great laugh in the morning. She got me a nice skeleton automatic watch a week earlier as a present because she knew I loved stuff like that, with the moving gears and visible ticking. It’s like having a little mechanical heart on your wrist. In the digital world, we’re still suckers for old school craftsmanship and genius. My sis’s boyfriend got me two nice laser cut metal model kits of the Big Ben and an old German WW1 aircraft, He noticed I was doing some paper model when he came to visit the other day.

And then during cell today, my friends got me a nice print from Australia, knowing I’m a sucker for this sort of thing, as well as a neat notebook with written wishes (Daniel chose the notebook. Good taste bro, good taste. I love that floral/leaf motif-pattern-which-I-can’t-seem-to-put-my-finger-on-the-name-at-the-moment in gold on the maroon background). Damien got me a paper watch to draw on. I got a feeling I’ll be taking a while to figure what I’m going to draw and it will probably end up as a neat table clock because I think the amount I perspire could turn it to mash hahaha.

Had dinner at a German restaurant (Brotzeit? Something like that) with pork knuckle and sausages and all, and headed back filled to the brim, but just enough space for strawberry cake/pie.

I think the best thing about it was sis and mom remembered I love strawberries. Little bro knew I loved wild berries even more and suggested some other cake with not only strawberries, but raspberries and blueberries and the works but it was two against one, but I don’t care, he’s still cool.

I don’t know why I’m writing this all down in strange detail, but it’s been a long time since I’ve properly celebrated a birthday, and this has got to be one of the best things in a while and I don’t really want to forget. All those birthday wishes and little things, they are the things which make memories.

And I guess 21 is a really big thing as everyone seems to say. It’s not like you grow up overnight, but you do start to grow up, bit by bit. I guess it started in the shower last morning when I wondered how it would be like exactly 21 years from now.

Obviously I spent a lot of my time admiring the skylines in UK. This one was taken from Daniel’s apartment one early morning. The streets were still empty and the morning air was cool and calming. I kind of miss that feeling.

Not to mention walking around with my neck craned upwards most of the time.

This little Chinese lion looked really out of place for a Chinese restaurant decoration.

Stop/Work?

Love that art deco font.

Probably what I thought was one of the more interesting ordinary housing blocks. This one was a few blocks away from the Imperial War Museum if I remembered right.

                                                        ~~~

You know, I can’t help but wonder how everything is going to turn out next time. Sometimes I feel like I have all this impossible or crazy expectations of myself which I can never seem to work out or understand, like a huge burden across my back. I’m trying really hard to let it all go, but, oh God, I shouldn’t be doing this but I’m still holding on to it all.

Suddenly I have this mixed feelings about turning 21. Mom asked me if I was celebrating, but honestly I haven’t thought much about it. As stupid as it sounds, I want to put life on pause and sort out a lot of things and useless baggage I’ve been lugging with me for the longest time which is burning me out mentally. Really. I don’t want to take it across with me because it’s just plain irresponsible and it’s time I did something about it.

About time I get some proper sleep as well.

EDIT:

“Life does not stop and start at your convenience.”

Walter Sobchak, The Big Lebowski

I’m keeping that in mind.

Alright, finally sorted out about 100 photos from the London trip which I plan to post (I’m indecisive as hell, or maybe too particular about details and such).

Aside from that, Mom got me a nice early birthday gift, an automatic skeleton watch from Ingersoll, knowing that I’ve always been fascinated my the mechanics behind clockwork. Just what I needed since my old Nautica watch is a bit screwy with the hours and the army Casio is just… army Casio. Nothing more needs to be said.

I really should start drawing again soon, considering I’ve just had an influx of awesome ideas, but first I need to clear up this chunk of photos which I have been holding for almost a month. Not good.

Not to mention, I need to start exercising more. I’m getting scrawnier by the day.

Suddenly it occurred to me that 21 comes only once, which means I will be 21 in 20 days (which I oddly discovered today, which is 21 days to go), and we aren’t getting younger at the rate we get older.

Unless you count mentally, but of course, the problem with the mental is finding the physical to match up with the all that activity buzzing in your mind.

I guess the best way to describe how everything is going right now would be how I felt this morning, running at 6AM into the pitch black of the Macritchie forest, when I turned off my flashlight to let the dark swallow me up.

She was like a cat, a Persian if I had to give her a breed. Gingerly stepping about the bar which was transformed into a makeshift banquet dinner room for the five of us, with a nonchalant air around her, yet at the same time, with a purpose to ensure that the service was running well and we, which she made her personal audience, were enjoying our food.

‘Not having a drink?’ she asked as she grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar top and poured herself a glass. She looked at us sceptically as though wondering why we were huddled in our little corner while everyone else from our similar group were inside the banquet room, exchanging happy banter and feasting on decorated tables. I mumbled a little ‘No it’s alright’, but it was drowned out by the replies which tumbled out from the rest of my group with similar enthusiasm.

‘You guys need to loosen up’, she quipped as she gave a little shrug (and I could swear, a roll of her eyes) and turned away to direct the serving crews in the background. For a moment, I felt like a father who had just lectured his teenage daughter, but in reality, she was probably in her early forties and I was on the verge of adulthood. Twenty one, the one age which I could never really figure if you should be happy for the freedom it brings or dreading for the boundaries it lacked. I’m starting to understand how sailors of old would have felt heading off into distant journeys at sea, believing that they might sail off the edge of the earth, and to their deaths, with the illusions of wild spice and gems still in their eyes. She had a perm which wouldn’t look out of place in the 80s’ and was wearing a dress of royal blue, simple but elegant, like the plumage of a songbird, but no, she was definitely more like a cat; the way she moved about, and how that glass of wine was delicately hanging off her fingers as she sunk back into the couch she was previously resting on, picking up where she last left off in a conversation with the event photographer and his assistant about the strange food photography habits of the locals.

I focused my attention back to the intricately decorated dish of baked salmon in front of me, savouring the well seasoned fish and the slight nasal burning sensation which came from a thin layer of wasabi spread on the pinkish flesh. Dinner definitely made up for the rather tiring day.

It was only a matter of minutes before she appeared back on my left without me noticing, holding up another plate of the same salmon. ‘How’s the food? I hope you’re enjoying it’, she purred as she set down the plate in her hand right in front of the five of us, oblivious to our bored expressions, and the fact that we had enough for each person, taking the space by the left of us as though it was the centre stage.

Just like a cat.

‘The salmon is a bit salty though’, she continued, with a slight furrow in her brow, ignoring the fact that we were too busy tackling the slivers of fish in front of us. Despite that, I disagreed

with her statement, and she responded with a questioning ‘Oh’, and a raised eyebrow, as though I had just interrupted her Broadway performance, before going on about the freshness of the fish and the next thing you know, she was gone; back to issuing further instructions to the service crew.

I couldn’t help but wonder about the oddity of a cat serving its owner fish, or maybe in this situation, it’s the owner serving the fish, the undisputed way it has always been. We devoured the extra dish anyway.

Soon she was back again with several plates of desert, a sinful slice of brownie paired with a little Turkish delight, and she laid them down beside us with great precision. However, unlike previously and expected, she didn’t stay to chat, but rather gave a quick smile and headed backstage to handle the flow of dishes to the main show. In comparison to the gloomy and increasingly messy state of the bar (the waiters used the bar area as a temporary area for drinks and washed cutlery), the buzz of activity behind those banquet doors obviously demanded (or provided) more attention.

However, she eventually returned, and like a good host, inquired about our state after the meal. ‘Great, food was really good’, I replied, while scratching out a rather abstract pattern in the leftover chocolate fudge and icing sugar with my fork. ‘The fish especially,’ I added on second thought. That response seemed to satisfy her and with that, she gave a nod and headed back to the couch, along the way getting her paws on another glass of wine, this time quietly watching with bored amusement as the photographer laughed and apologised for his need for vainly posing with the plate of dessert.

Just like a cat.

Something from about 2 nights ago. A rather memorable character at the welcoming dinner at work for the new MBA students, but I didn’t have my sketchbook with me to draw an interesting character about her or anything, so I guess words shall do then.

Really busy lately, with work and all, but I think it’s about time I post up the photos which I took from London before May comes around the corner.

I also have a feeling that some of my postcards got lost in the mail in London. Balls.

And now, suddenly I remember something said yesterday during a random walk/sketching adventure in Portsdown:

“Why are you so self conscious? After all no one is going to remember.”

I don’t know, really. Maybe it’s this innate fear I have that I’m going to make a fool of myself somehow, but what I do know is that this is something I’ve got to overcome, and there’s really no more time to waste gingerly watching my situation.

I need to find that self in me that was used to shrugging off obstacles and mistakes. And maybe dare to make a few mistakes myself.

Relevant

2 rolls of film to develop, loads of photos to go through, videos to edit and illustrations to be done. And frames for the new posters I got. Welcome home.

On the plus side, Canon sent in a new film scanner after my Dad explained to them how our old one killed itself while scanning a document.

One more thing to add before I go to sleep and forget about it forever more,

Life is unlike poker, where you can fold and hope for a better hand, so the next best thing we can do is to just make the best of whatever cards we are dealt. Because in life, folding means giving up on the beauty of life itself, so all we can really do is to look at the uniqueness of what we are given and play the best game we have out of it. We can either leave the table feeling richer, poorer, or knowing that we had the best game ever.

And after a night of Borderlands, strawberry and lime cider, and deep heart to heart talks about the future and the right person, it’s time to sleep.

Somehow, I figured that this would be something important which I should type down somewhere before I forget. Maybe some day I can look back at this and understand better on 20/20 hindsight.

I visited my uncle in York on Saturday, and I kind of expected it to be a very simple sort of visit, but something there were some things which he said when he was driving us (Daniel, Neil and I) around which somehow made a lot of sense to me. Well maybe not that much sense, but it did make things a lot clearer.

London was often the kind of place friends would tell me that I would love if I were there; the sort of place where it just fits my character somehow. And true to what was mentioned, I did love this place. It just feels like home somehow. The weather was cold and chilly, there were spots of quiet and contemplation amidst the city (Something about Singapore which I truly hated, was that the weather was total crap, and the only time I could find quiet, was when I ran to Macritchie Reservoir in the dead of the night). I really loved the character of the place too. The way the people worked and interacted; a somewhat unmentioned sort of politeness and friendliness as well as a sort of what I would call a tinge of danger with a pot full of excitement when exploring the place. To cut things short, I wouldn’t mind immigrating there when I’m older. Or maybe retire in Brighton (Wow, I loved that place).

But then I heard what my uncle talked about. He talked about when he first immigrated to England. He said it was 40 (?) years ago. He didn’t say it in a very negative tone, but from the way he said it, I could sense that he had a tinge of regret. He left Singapore because he couldn’t see a future in it back then. England felt like a much more exciting place. The weather, the culture, the huge expanse of the British nation. After all, Singapore was a young country; from my point of view, a forever summer country which is too damn small, a lack of open space and culture-less.

Culture-less. I wouldn’t really know a better way to describe it. One thing that really disappoints me about Singapore is how it lacks the sort of thing which makes it home; the street stalls, the way humans meld together with the environment through graffiti and street performers. The architecture and how time does beautiful things with concrete and gravel. Singapore is too clean and green. Everything is too perfectly manicured and orderly. It feels like the sort of place I want to be in for a holiday, but not the sort of place I want to live and die in.

But then my uncle mentioned something which made lots of sense to me (Not sure about you. Well if anyone even reads this post). ‘Singapore developed really fast’.

At that point, something clicked with that debate I had with Daniel and Neil about Singapore being a pathetic place for art and culture to thrive; too perfect, too neat, not enough space for happy accidents (Something I read in a digital art manual; the moment when you do something by accident but it turned out brilliant).  It’s true, Singapore doesn’t have much of a culture (As opposed to what the tourism board likes us to believe) but it’s developing. After all, we had probably less than a century of proper Singaporean history. You can’t compare it to England which had their medieval period and long time history. And the thing about the development of Singapore is that, we have a part to play in it because we are the youth now and someday, what we do now is gonna be our culture. And with that comes opportunities which very very few people get the chance to have, a chance to probably shape the nation. I guess in a semi egoistical way, part of me wishes to leave an impact, because I don’t want to be forgotten. It could be something as complex as a huge architectural company, to something as small as a simple well designed house for someone or maybe a treasured piece of artwork. Someday, whatever we do in Singapore would become a culture and the thing about being in such a young nation is that the change you would see wold only come about years later when we’re old and grey, and I think, that would be when we would come to either love what we have done or hate what had happened (In that case, yeah, I would like to retire in Brighton). I guess the one thing a lot of us under rate a lot is the fact that we get to do something which would affect the people after us.

Like what my uncle said, the UK is not progressing in a healthy manner more so because there is no drive from the people to really do much; after all, they have the culture and they have the land and environment, what else do you have to ask for? When he mentions this, he always tells his British friends, if Singapore can do it we can too, so he doesn’t piss them off. But he knows that they won’t do it because they are too comfortable, and there’s not enough urge and competition to do so. They do have progress, but it’s not the sort of ambition which is a do or die, which is what we have in Singapore. In a way, it’s a lot like resting on your laurels in the UK, but fighting for your life in Singapore. It’s the sort of drive which makes you want to stand out and make a name for yourself, and in that sense, it’s something that would drive people to do great things and in that sense, the future is great for us, because we have something we know we have a chance to have a part of.

And in that sense, I guess it’s a sense of belonging, but it’s the sort of thing which will take time to develop and it’s really a matter of if we want to do so and if we are patient enough to let things grow.