Wednesday, June 04, 2008



This is his four hundred and seventieth post. Perhaps this figure is of some significance in some strange dimension or universe parallel to ours.

But right here, to the blog owner, 470 is but a number that tells him that he has updated this blog 469 times. Nothing fantastic about that. But to him, what's important is what has gone behind every post.

Indeed, as he peruses his archives, he's seen how his thinking changed from one of an immature, selfish youth of 12, to a 16-year-old youth's thinking. How mature and selfish is he now? He isn't sure. He suspects it's quite a bit, yet he's not really quite sure, and is fearful of putting down an exact number in light of people rolling their eyes and going 'yeah right'.

Perhaps that, in itself, is a show of his (im)maturity.

Tomorrow will be the day for his PSB AGM preparation. Much like his close friends Edwin, Kenneth and Ashwin...and most of the other Sec Fours, he looks forward to Handover with mixed feelings. On one hand, he is sad to leave behind what has been an integral part of him for the past two years. On the other hand, he realizes that he can't have it forever, and must move on sooner or later.

He vaguely recalls the phrase "Because we never left" in a poem written above the Victoria School Heritage Center and wonders how reliable it is, and whether it can be trusted.
Also, he briefly wonders whether it is worth a [13m] answer, and then considers whether he may or may not have been revising Social Studies a little too enthusiastically.

He wonders if some people think of him nowadays, and reflects that this scene would probably go very well in one of the various Korean dramas on TV. Much like a sordid love affair, he wonders if they wonder about him.

Also, he has a dental appointment soon, and must take a shower before making his way towards Ubi Dental Clinic. He realizes that his hand, which has been rubbing his irritated left eye for quite a while now, is extremely oily, as are his cheeks. Looking down at the keys, he can see the faint sparkle of a thin layer of oily under his too-bright white room light.

He decides that he really must go bathe.
Why does his heart feel that there is so much more to say.