Lenscape Of My Mind

Having been alone the last 15 years, you can try to imagine my state of insecurity. Try harder.

I was self inflict with paranoia, distrust and delusional.

Cranking and chanting, he loves me, he loves me not.

Obsessed, I made him promised a million things, and this one thing in particular

TERMINATION.

Each and everyone of them. No matter how small the flickering lights on a dampened wicker.

Kill it.

Call me possessive, call me nuts. Delete all skype, mobile and email contacts. numbers from his little naughty black book be erased.

I left him no chance. Made him assure me that nothing and no one is gonna come between us.

BUT, my Stevie sighed a big CANNOT.

Desperate I was to be hitched, I hide my disgust and gave him my broadest mechanical smile and asked, ” But why?”.

He pleaded impossibility.

The truth be known.

I have to share everything with Miss M, his favourite niece, a little kiddo.

This is a special one that I must promise to allow to come in between us.

Someone that he would treat best first, before me. I must allow him to address her as affectionately as “baby”, endearment, I thought should be exclusive for me as girlfriend and then as wife.

Never mind that; I thought, Margaux was no competition. She is only a kid, for god’s sake, Joanne.

Moreover, he promised that Margaux will be his little baby and I am the grand one.

in between - lenscape of my mind

We went through many embarrassing moments, whenever he mentioned “BABY” and we had to decide, whom was he addressing.

Those days, it was so hilarious when Margaux wanted to sleep in between us. Especially, when she won in pleading hubby to stay over with her and poor me had to drive home and sleep alone. I rarely win here, I walk over. For heaven’s sake, Margaux is just a sweet little kid.

After 2 years, Margaux and I have become the best of friends. We know how to adjust and be happy; that’s when Stevie gets to sleep in the middle, sandwich between us.

Of course, quietly, tuck underneath his pillow he has his current beau.

His new baby, a black berry.

reincarnation - lenscape of my mind

It is Qing Ming season.

Noticed this beautiful moth sitting quietly on the kitchen wall.

Warned not to kill or shoo it away, way back when I was even a kid.

I have been made to believe, these moths are our relatives who have passed on.

They are visitors.

Do we really come back?

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Qing Ming by Du Mu

It drizzles endless during the rainy season in spring,
Travelers along the road look gloomy and miserable.
When I ask a shepherd boy where I can find a tavern,
He points at a distant hamlet nestling amidst apricot blossoms.

beautiful beings - stevie chan

I want to celebrate life.

To have spent my time and hard-earned money on travel, basic amenities of comfort and a little to spare for emergencies.

Sickness? I have my insurance to deal with it.

Retirement? I don’t know if I could live beyond that. If I do, hopefully I should live long enough to spend all my money inside the Employee Provident Fund.

I feel sad with the way people handle death. Whoever’s idea for elaborate burials?

See no need to get myself a majestic tombstone. Nor a budget columbarium.

Why let people profit from my death?

I have decided and agreed with my siblings to cremate me. No need for storage in a beautiful ceramic urn. Keep it simple and no stress for loved ones.

Toss me into a river.

When I am dead, remember me everyday for the time we had spent together. Remember how I had meant much to have made our lives beautiful. Remember me whenever you miss me.

Travel not a day in a year just to catch glimpses of my past.

When I am dead, let me be gone.

All memories of me stay, everyday in every way!

red dragonfly - lenscape of my mind

Four red dragonflies, circling the tempting pool this morning.

whirlpool- lenscqpe of my mind

Our mind is like a pool.

An ocean of randomness.

At times, they bear recurring patterns.

Sometimes, haunting and daunting.

Sometimes, happy and pleasant.

Sometimes, empty and meaningless.

Most times, they are in a state of their own.

Every time, they are mine.

Each, a landscape of my mind.

sometimes

i think god is funny

there are 2 alexes in my life

both in the past tense now

the first Alex

a guy  i’d wanted to marry

and madly in love

the second Alex

a guy i wasn’t too sure about marrying

and i did but parted

tasmania - lenscape of my mind

sometimes

i think god is funny

there are 2 steves in my life

both are his gifts

the first a Steven

my puppy love

first guy i dated

the second a Stevie

my loving husband

last guy who makes me loved

pic by stevie chan

I was shocked when walter sent me a DM 2 weeks ago, sharing the news that Karen has cancer. She would be the first friend i know to have it.

Today is her 25th day fighting cancer.

On the  1st  day of discovery, a big part of her liver has been attacked. The doctor gave her  6 months to live.

On the  19th day, a biopsy report showed the cancer is spread from her colon upwards to her liver. Immediate chemotherapy and surgery is advised.

She has come open with her cancer. Posting out to friends on her fight and educating us on almost a daily account on her Facebook account. I salute her calmness and collectedness facade, underneath I am sure she has her worries and doubts. Her husband and her 2 beautiful kids.

Advice come pouring in and she is in a deadlock with no answers. The clock is ticking.

I grow up understanding that cancer does not discriminate. To date, she has taken many of my relatives away and spared an aunty.

At 9 years old, I barely knew how deadly cancer was. My first aunty found a lump on my late little cousin, Siew Luan’s thigh. Siew Luan was a fighter, she consoled her mom to be grateful that she only needed to amputate the bad leg. She was happy limping and playing hide and seek with us. She was grateful to be alive. But not for long. soon there were more tumours spreading all over her body. She was blinded when those cancer went up her head.

My third uncle died having throat cancer and 40 years later his daughter, my cousin sister died of womb cancer.

My little nephew died after a kidney transplant and a cousin’s husband passed away last year, 3 month’s after discovering he had throat cancer. He had been smoking for 30 years.

My third aunty was diagnosed with cervical cancer and she survived 19 years on.

Many fought and few survived.

Is Karen going to die?

I pray she is as lucky as my aunty. God bless.

pic by stevie chan

It is night like this that haunts me.

I’d be troubled by how swiftly my precious time ticks away, like an hourglass, barely able to trap a minute. Soon the minutes disappeared, the hours gone.

My thoughts remain the same.

Hubby bought me many books and I haven’t gotten into an adrenaline mood to scour them for the longest time.

He so laughed at me whenever he teased me about my favourite authors, the likes of Paulo Coelho, Jeffery Archer etc.

Marrying Stevie, transported my literary world into a new shift. I have been introduced to writers that I have known afar but fairly acquainted in any exchange of words. The first book he bought me was Catcher In The Rye by J D Salinger, and he hasn’t stopped at that.

Since I am bedridden with a bad bout of body ache and phlegm; a dirty chance of an infection that leads to a bad flu. I didn’t want to over stress my body, reducing my body’s resistance, I relented when my doctor suggested I take leave from office.

This brightly coloured cover invited me to pick her up. A Haruki Murakami book, entitled “South Of the Border, West of the Sun“. This would be my second Murakami book. Funny of all his titles, I actually started out with ” What I Talked About When I Talked About Running” . Odd that I was not introduced to his earlier writings and some of his more reputable works. I have been told, he is a great writer and every book is an encounter by it’s own.

I can relate completely with the story.

Highly introspective. I can see each character, sometimes as myself and many times the people who surrounded my intimate life. I comprehend the emotions of each character and to me, this is a believable story though fiction.

I see no point in me narrating such a well written piece. It is short and easy read, so hard to put it down as Murakami, the storyteller succeeded to coax me to finish this 250 odd pages in a single day. I cried a tear or two. No kidding. I am such a romantic.

In summary, the book enlighten me that all of us have memories. We just have to move forward in lives and be guided or haunted by them. How we deal with each relationship has to do with timing and the big word destiny.

A Synopsis:

“Hajime, a bar owner in Tokyo, recounts his life since his birth until the recent day he reunited with Shimamoto – his old sweetheart from elementary school, then a polio-stricken cripple. Frustrated at having been separated from her at an early age, he had been in multiple relationships broken by his own desires translated into selfishness. He seemed to finally find a stable married life with Yukiko, daughter of a rich industrialist, who gave him two daughters as well as dad’s backing to open a bar. But now, with Shimamoto standing before him, no longer a cripple but transformed into a raving, alluring beauty, he must face the choice of staying with his current life or throwing it all away to achieve his lifelong dream of real love from the only woman he could trust…

The book describes many moving parts, including growing pains, psychological limitations, parenthood, and most importantly, the importance of both romantic love and sexual relations in the man-woman relationship. I recommend it.”
Sergio Mendoza, Resident Scholar