I Don’t Need Anything But You

Together at last, together forever
We’re tying a know that never can sever
I don’t need sunshine now to turn my skies to blue
I don’t need anything but you  – Annie

Today’s choir session almost broke my heart.

There I was, guiding the children’s choir through the famous Annie song. Then this kid (let’s call him Tiny Tim… you know, like the one from Scrooge?) burst into tears. Not the screwed-over-by-mom tears or the I’m-frustrated-I-can’t-get-it-right tears. This was something else.

Getting my assistant to take over, I guided the 12 year-old out of class to figure him out. In my mind, I was thumbing through the possibilities as well as their treatments… the probabilities are endless! Oh dear, don’t tell me he’s really upset about the death of his pet. I read it on his Facebook notification yesterday… and there was a sad emoticon attached. Firstly, I don’t understand how/why kids are so into Facebook… however, I’m thankful I saw it as it helped prepped the troubleshooting options in my mind then. Secondly, this is one of the few cases where children’s emoticons should be heavily considered and taken with a lot of weight. God forbid, the human form of expression has evolved to a handful of flipped symbols.

So I sat a sobbing Tiny Tim down and prompted him to speak his heart out. And I guessed right as he explained between heavy sobs how his pet of 2 years just stopped breathing. He talked about being helpless and clueless on how to revive it… about dealing with a little burial outside his home… about being confused at his current state of mourning… about confiding in his mom.

This kid had liquid pain streaming down his cheeks. It was heartbreaking to watch. As much as he gets on my nerves the odd occasion, my heart just went out to him and I had to fight back tears. I shared with him about the loss of my loved one and how death just makes us appreciate life even more… and that people who go through such tough times end up stronger… and that he was very brave to share his experience with me… and I thanked him. More importantly, I told him that it was OK to cry… even for a boy. He told me the song we were singing in the choir made him very emotional.

For a street smart, quick witted and smart-mouthed kid to wear his heart on his sleeve like that… I’m thinking he’s going to make a very good stage performer. On the flip side, I wish there was some power in me to protect children from experiencing such a raw emotion… I keep telling myself they’re not ready for this, children are supposed to be happy. But I guess some people learn life’s lessons earlier than others.

Since Tiny Tim requested for some alone time before rejoining the group, I had another colleague keep him company. Of course, the other children were concerned. I quietly explained the situation and reminded them to be supportive of a friend in need… which prompted a couple of testimonies from the choir on pet death. Tiny Tim rejoined within the hour and was seen being the hyperactive and silly class clown again… and I marvel at his recovery rate.

If only I could mirror that.


Being a responsible member of society

I had all the resolution in the world last night to wake up at 7am today for a nice jog around the secured gated community I’m living in. You know, burning the holiday calories.

Well, thank goodness it rained because I didn’t feel like unravelling myself from the thick covers.


As I’m sitting here waiting for the coffee to kick in, I scanned my iCal – mentally patted my back for compiling all my work commitments in there, but sighing at the massive amount of stuff. Trying to channel the Oprah-positivity, I told myself to stay inspired.

And I realized I dress better when I’m unwell.

And so, I will make a vow to present myself tastefully (and have fun going through the wardrobe daily, even if it means waking up earlier) so that I am not a hazard to society. The world has enough crappy people who spread their stress to any passersby.

And some morning music played by Kate to get my daily soundtrack in my head won’t hurt either.

Thank God it’s Thursday (who cares about Friday?).


The Musician

Published in: on January 6, 2011 at 1:57 pm  Comments (1)  

Coming soon…

…an introspective view of The Musician’s grueling 2009 & 2010.

This includes, but not limited to, various forms of discrimination, hypocrisy, courage under fire, triumphs, and firsts.

Stay tuned… while I try to migrate my work from my old MacBook (Ben, named after Britten) to my new MacBook Air (Kate, named after Moss… for purely simplistically aesthetic reasons)

Sick Again

We never say anything when we’re well..we never go around telling people how well we are, how cool our body temperature is today, how when we blew our nose this morning there was no funny looking nose stuff.

It all changes when we’re sick.

The WHOLE world has to know how you woke up this morning with a headache the size of Texas, how you cough up something that looks like the cat’s hairball but grosser, how you can’t eat/drink/think/talk/do other bodily functions as you feel sick.

Why? because we are all more vulnerable when we’re unwell.. what we want to do is wrap ourselves in several layers of thick sweaters and stay under the doona (or duvet as the rest of the world would call it :P) and a loved one to be around to tell us everything is going to be okay.

If you live alone (like me) and with no close family members around (ditto) and with no loved one as well (I’m beginning to sound pathetic here), being sick is something I hate..not just the whole “I’m-so-unwell” situation but the fact that it highlights how isolated I am. If you’ve experienced a death of a loved one before (or have been in a near-death situation), you feel like death is lurking around every corner – in fact, you think about it all the time. The thing I keep wondering is: if something bad happens to me, will someone save me before it’s too late or will they only find me when my corpse starts omitting a foul smell? or worse still, half eaten by the cat?

Okay..that’s not really the point of this entry.

The point is…being sick sucks.

(Nothing like being succinct in the end)

Published in: on December 17, 2010 at 6:47 am  Leave a Comment  

What Is and What Should Never Be

The Musician’s previous entry has given me enough courage to drag myself from my lethargy stupor of the world and have found some tangential thoughts to yap about.

(that’s a good thing…I hope)

Whoa..two years eh..for some people, that’s like a lifetime…especially to those two year olds..and I can speak for myself and the others here that many things can -and have happened- in two years.. the emotions and experiences that we’ve all gone through feels like a lifetime. Empires are made and destroyed, the stock market (it’s money that you can’t live without, brutally speaking! The Beatles had no idea what they’re talking about but Pink Floyd -who actually had a song called “Money” was spot on!!) peaks and crashes, lives are made and then poof! they’re gone.

I have my moments of ups and downs in these past two years as well. After what’s happened this year (If you don’t know what happened this year, please read about it here) I could feel my life spiralling downwards, or using the great Led Zeppelin (I have a Jimmy Page late 60′s till mid 70′s crush currently -the hair!!!! the dragon suits!!!!- so please excuse my Led Zeppelin references :P )’s song – trampled under foot.  And as you fall further and further down, you can’t help wonder what are you going to land on? Is there going to be someone there to catch your fall or are you going to go smack on to the ground (and break a few vertebras at the same time)?  The main question is, do you want to stop falling downwards? Will you ever find the ledge to hold on to to stop yourself from falling further?

Useless rhetorical questions, in my humble opinion.

Ah, but I digress.

The word of the day, children is “despair”. Google says (yup, Google actually talks me me nowadays!) despair is defined as a “state in which all hope is lost or absent” but there is an Italian quote that says ”Hope is last to die” (“La speranza è l’ultima a morire”)..so what does it mean not to have hope anymore?

Please excuse me while I go and dwell on it…until my next entry..hmm.



(a.k.a the perpetually smirking, jaded looking, lost feeling meddie)

p/s: I will try to be more cheerful in my next update 😛

pp/s: if you enjoy morbid thoughts though (I might know a good shrink if you’re interested in healing), find more unhappy entries here.

Published in: on December 15, 2010 at 4:46 am  Leave a Comment  

A little older…

Oh, hi..

Two years is a long time to be silent. Or maybe two years is the period of time it takes to get things into perspective. Or at least try to.

Love found. Love lost. Love gone forever. Love met by sheer coincidence.

“All you need is Love” – The Beatles

I am of firm opinion that The Beatles have got it all wrong. All we need, actually, is simplicity in thought, logical mindset, feet planted firmly on the (amidst shaky) ground, strong support, and regular spa treatments (but more on that later). If we survived on love alone, we would result in seeing carnage all around and realize that the proverbial blood is on our hands. Because we are dramatically tragic like that. Why else do you think tv stations thrive on selling-out human emotion via reality tv shows (no matter how degrading some are)? Because we connect to tragedy and drama. Because we are such beautiful realities of both elements.

We all know how depressive Christmas can get. A lot of time to reflect on… everything. And I realize that to love is to be realistic in making it work… not relying on hormones, pheromones, or romantic music from ancient gramophones.

There is a time to love… and there is a time to mourn for love lost. It never gets easier. Ten years down the road and I’m still struggling. Some days are easier than others. And in this case, a little older doesn’t equate to a little wiser. Just… a little more… introspective.

But that’s just my take. Perhaps the two meddies can shed some light while I go translate thoughts into songs.

~ The Musician

Published in: on December 13, 2010 at 7:39 am  Comments (1)  

Be-stressed, bothered, and bewildered

So I have this predicament.

Bitched if I do, and damned if I don’t. That kind.

I have new music to premiere in a few months. Music that will make or break me. Beautiful music that I could hear in my mind. All I have to do is notate it in the best possible arrangement. Music that I know I will be happy with.

But what if I am not happy with the group that I am commissioned to write for?

What if I can somehow foresee that some performers will not be able to deliver my music in the style requested?

I’m so f*cked. It’s a big deal for me.

I keep reminding myself that music is for the masses. Use my music as a contribution to society. Blah blah. I shouldn’t be so hard-up or selfish, even, to take it so personally. It’s just a bad debut performance of my music. As long as the performers enjoy delivering it, right?


I know I will eventually get to that state of mind. But right now, I still feel like I’m having my knickers in a knot over this issue.

Musicians were not born as sensible, logical, and practical beings. I have the license to be emotional and slightly manic. And show traits of obsessive compulsiveness.

Published in: on August 7, 2008 at 1:38 am  Leave a Comment