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my magic cave when I just came back

When I run dry, I stop awhile and think of you

Sitting here sweating like a pig on a cool evening (why is singapore so bloody hot?), I just remembered that one of the nicest parts about working at the park was when it's around evening, and all the guests (yes, they call the customers guests. 'guest service!!!!!') are slowly leaving the park with their gigantic soft toys (giant red lizards two people have to carry, giant spidermen, crazy fur hats, neon turtles, bright pink unicorns) and there's hardly anyone around. It's peaceful then, with golden clouds. And with little/no violent and reckless people at go-karts we get to sit and chat, fantasize about what we're going to cook for dinner (the best dinners were the fried rice desiree and i made), drive the go-karts around madly violating all the rules we repeat vehemently to the violent creatures, and if we're at the rockwall/trampoline, talk to the people passing by who are usually too busy in the day to stop for a chat, like Ibrahim (turkish guy, our good friend whom we took to the movies at the mall) and Kyle (Napoleon Dynamite). Life seemed simpler then, being at Queensbury during summer, which is an exciting time for people there, it seems like summertime is the special happy-time of the year, places are buzzing, things are happening. So we work almost everyday, at gokarts or at the rockwall and giant trampoline, make friends with romanians, turkish, old guys at the park, everyone, buy our groceries at wonderful wal-mart, go for a movie at night, go somewhere for internet or chop veggies and make fried rice or pasta, do laundry, watch stupid shows like the biggest loser and clean house, wait for our off-days, hop on the fire-engine-red summer trolley and for a dollar stop anywhere in the area. And think about life. Oh boy.

And now it is thursday and it is raining outside and it is a peaceful day. The strangest thing I've done since coming back is visit castle green though I now stay at springleaf. Driving into the carpark was so familiar, and then the sound of the lift, the smell of the house, the smallness of it compared to this monstrosity we're now living in, my peach curtains in my small room. And i felt sad thinking it was probably the last time I would ever be in the house.

There was a really special and beautiful obituary in the papers 2 days ago. The header was My Love, followed by a nice picture of a happy woman, and sub-headings 'The way you are, My Special Girl Friday, when will you return....' And then a strange little paragraph going 'The girl I love to be marooned on a deserted island 14/08/06, You left without saying goodbye, I cannot let go. You walk in front, I totter behind. Tail-end Robert' and Robert listed himself as 'Husband: Robert Teo Architect'

I hope that when university is over I won't feel as if I have awoken from a dream I wish I never had. Is it strange, to feel so far removed from what they are talking about in class? Actually i dont care (and never will) about the history of communication studies, or postmodernism or anything like that, dang it all the way to bukit timah shit. Do you, dear reader?! Oh my I'm not even halfway to finishing! Someone sweep me away to turkey or mauritius and let's get married there!!!!!

p.s. comments finally work here!