光头
为什么要剃光头？就只因为一股冲动吗？这个问题我在计程车上想了很久。
当然这个举动有重生，解放自己的涵义和意义。同时，可能是潜意识作祟，逼着自己面对最基本根本的自己。接受自己是我最重要的功课。没了头发，就得面对一个没有包装，没有伪装的自己。就得面对一个讨厌的自己。从懂事以来就很讨厌自己，讨厌自己是个其貌不扬的异类。因为害怕别人看穿自己而故作坚强，也因此把自己封闭在一道道围墙后面。外表的坚强只不过是保护色，内心已开始喘不过气。我累了。一直以来试图变成被大家接受的＂那个人＂，却失去了自己。现在已搞不清楚，我到底是谁？
无法接受自己，就无法快乐。
无法接受自己，又如何指望别人接受我。
无法爱自己，又如何懂得爱和被爱。
但愿人长久
29/10/2011
王菲2011巡唱 新加坡站。
终于耳闻她唱现场的功力。刚开始，声音不够稳定，有点不确定。但越唱越舒服，越有自信和穿透力。短短两小时不到的演唱，让我见证她的魅力。我终于明白歌迷对她的死忠。那份无论如何都要听她唱歌的心情和冲动。
一曲“但愿人长久”绝对不是演唱会的高潮，却让我热泪盈眶。不是因为王菲唱地特别感人，而是因为这首歌意义非凡。
今年的中秋节，老爸，阿嬷和我在医院里陪老妈度过。中秋庆团圆。但冷冰冰的病房里，一点生气也没有。我便用手机播放了邓丽君的“但愿人长久“。。。应节嘛。而我妈也颇爱邓丽君的。我一边播放着，一边问老妈：”好听吗“？她没有任何反应。不知道她听不听得到。。。当时的我，强忍眼泪，心里做好心里准备。无论我们多么想保持乐观，残酷的现实等待我们面对。乌云笼罩。时日可能不多了。
那晚的记忆深深烙印在我脑海里。可能是无法忘记，也可能是不想忘记。想紧紧握住那片段，那伤疤。我想我从此无法以平常心，正常的面对这首歌。这首歌太酸，太痛，太多的遗憾。
生日（不）快乐
2011年10月19日
今年的生日在医院里度过。不详的预兆？难道医院将从此成为我第二个家？噩梦的开始？
上一次在医院里度过生日是。。。老妈入院。我们在她身边守护着她。那是两年前的事吧？
15.04.2011 Time to say goodbye - Xinyu Bookshop
现在下着倾盆大雨，仿佛为这老店的离别而哭泣。不舍。。。
幸好来得及道别。营业了33年的新育书局明日起将走入历史。感谢老板和老板娘允许我拍照记录。这间窄小，不起眼，看似凌乱的书局拥有我童年的记忆和味道。每次走进这书局都仿佛回到了童年。感谢它的一成不变。老板们熟悉的面孔总让我感到安心，好像回到家的那种感觉。这是一般“现代”书局无法取代的。虽然光顾了20多年，却对老板们了解不多。直到今天，最后的一天，才鼓起勇气和他们稍稍的打开话匣子。似乎想以了解他们多一些来安慰自己。
老板娘问道 “你怎么不早几天来呢？今天都空空了。” 虽然我没告诉她，但心想 ”在这最后的一天才别具意义啊”。
老板娘解释，其实很多货品早已卖完，但因顾客要求，他们尽量补货，以折扣价卖给顾客，尽量满足。她的眼神隐约透露了自豪和感伤。
由于它一直都在，这些年来我越来越忽视它的存在。小时候，经常跑书局。随着长大上班就越来越少了。两个星期前获知他们要停业的消息，才感到分外不舍。人不都这样？ 总要等到失去才懂得珍惜。有时候，希望借由别人的裹足不前，一成不变来满足自己自私的虚荣心和依赖。
学着珍惜身边的人吧。
今天，我买了我经常买的自动铅笔笔心。做个纪念。同样的牌子，同样的老板，截然不同的氛围。
谢谢你。谢谢成为我童年回忆的一部分
what can i do to make you love me?
the worst reply is Nothing...
My Life My Rules
Yes, I make it hard for people to understand me. Because I feel that people who ought to know me will 'know' me. It should be a given, without me having to speak out... or appear to be begging for attention. Why make it more miserable than it already is?
Don't give excuses about "you don't speak out", "we don't know what you are thinking". If you care enough, you will find ways to reach out... Or are you just afraid of getting too intimate with a freak like me?
Am I asking too much?
It's just so disappointing.
My Life My Rules.
Doctor's appointment
The journey to the hospital. The waiting. The loneliness. The cold, hard, matter-of-fact looks on the medical staff's faces. The revelation of the scan results. The moment of truth... or whatever you call it.
Anxiety. Hope. Fear. Helplessness. Distrust. Denial - all rolled into one. Trying to stay rational, yet hoping I was more emotional.
Hoping I could let it all out by bursting into tears on the journey home, in the privacy of the car. That would have left me feeling better, I thought.
The car had become my new favourite on-the-go private space.
But nothing. As hard as I tried to indulge in self-pity, the tears welled behind my eyelids but I could squeeze nothing out. I couldn't comfort myself in the warmth of tears that should have flowed down the contours of my cheeks. Have I lost the ability to cry for myself?
"You should seriously consider it," said the doctor.
"What's the worst case scenario we talked about," he probed.
"It may explode anytime," I answered, void of emotions, except for that queer expression on my face that I tried to pass off as a smile. Perhaps, rupture would have been a more appropriate and technically-correct word to use.
He just stared at me, as if waiting for an answer from me. I just looked back, having nothing to say. He knew what my answer was and we kept it as that.
"It has gotten bigger..." blah blah and he proceeded to play a numbers 'n' alphabet game with the other doctor in the room. 6.2, 6.4, 6.6... interweaved with acronyms and jargons.
He went on to explain the case of another young man to me. A recent case. For this young man, it came too sudden, too late. He was alive after an emergency procedure but "he still had problems walking 6 months after".
This is blackmail... He wants me to do it now - That was the first thought on my mind. I won't succumb to it just yet.
"I will see you in three months time."
"Thank you, doctor."
I stretched my arm to reach for the handle when he spoke again.
"If you decide to do it earlier, you may arrange for an earlier appointment," he said stoically, or some may say professionally.
"Do inform Dr. T too for an early appointment if you do decide to do it. He may need to adjust your medicines."
He must have sensed the fear in me this time. He had never said these things during previous meetings when I told him I wasn't ready.
He knew that I knew... perhaps time really is running out for me. And my heart is hinting both of us.
