The Big Bang

In an event of aberration, I worked at the Mandarin Oriental today. Mandarin Oriental was where I began as a pianist. It was the first domino, which sets off a chain of events which otherwise would not have occurred: play the saxophone, change to a better violin teacher, learn under a jazz piano maestro, upgrade laptop, buy books, groomed myself, buy clothes and accessories, play on a 9 feet Steinway and Sons grand piano, etc, etc. It all started in Mandarin Oriental some two years ago.

So today was a reflective day. I recalled having arrived late by train for the meeting with the agent at Mandarin Oriental on my first day. It was a Friday. I quickly changed into a white shirt, bow tie, black pants and catch this: a dark blue blazer from mydays as a school prefect. (Which compels me to issue a fashion faux pas warning!) I put on some hair gel and tweaked all my hair to the back of my head, leaving my forehead bald. And finally, I put on my glasses – the nerdy thick frame one – just in time for my scheduled performance at 3pm.

The Lady in Red

It was during the usual burning afternoon in the city when the blonde lady in sleeveless, knee-length bright red dress prodded the pavement with her matching red stiletto. Heads, of the pedestrians and car drivers alike, turned to be dazzled by her tall and imposing hour-glass figure. The police officer 10 meters away, jaw dipped, nudged his colleague with his elbow, in what appeared to be “a guy thing”. The shopkeepers nearby, with their wandering eyes, trailed her seemingly pleasurable and poised stroll, looking every bit as bewitched and bewildered as the rest of the lucky gentleman.

Only one man, appearing out of nowhere from the west side of the street, hunched his back and confined his vision to the pavement ground, as if counting his every steps. For every two steps he took, his hawk eye swung into a panoramic excursions to glimpse the lady in the red. And until the lady in red vanished into a building, he never would stand straight nor look openly.

Mediocre Minds in Power

The Minister of Education decided to limit the number of subjects student can take, the controversial issue which had reached a tipping point recently following the inability of some self-proclaimed top student to obtain the Public Service Department scholarships.

This policy is to be enforced, despite countless effort by some enlightened citizens to explain to this minister that it is the award process of the scholarship that should be scrutinized and thus rectified, not the number of subjects a student take in the exam. But apparently our minister had his causal relations messed up.

I know I had a huge crush on you, when…

1. My heart sank as I noticed you would board another carriage of the train.

2. I walked to your train carriage, uttering the “excuse me-s” along the way,  just to stand in front of you.

3. I was on the same page of the book throughout train journey, pretending to be reading while nailing my eyes on you. I scrutinized your physique, thoroughly, to stock up mental information to fantasize about being with you.

4. I felt a sudden urged to stand behind you and fondle the soft hair and the eyelids enveloping those cold, icy eyes. And gently touch those curl of lips, with mine.

5. I imagined how great we look together when I realized – after five minutes of investigation – that you did not have any ring on your fingers.

6. I felt inferior and disconcerted because you did not notice me, and did not seemed to be feeling the same kind of attraction that you cast on me; Should I spend more time tweaking my hair or sleep a few hours earlier to avoid those red spots on my skin or dress more fashionably to strut my virility?

7. I felt the air gushing in and out of my nostrils as you began to notice my book on my palm. Your eyes were scaling my hand, my abdomen, my chest, my neck, and then, my heart skipped a beat when our eyes met – twice, and on both occasion I quickly looked away like a shy boy.

8. I quickly walked towards the empty seat opposite yours as soon as I noticed there was one.

9. I was devastated when the train arrived at your destination, just as I sat down. I could only watch your back and sigh – with a touch of resignation, until you vanished in the darkness of the night.

10. I felt I was electrocuted, numbed, paralyzed, and crippled by the powerful arrows of the cupid, unable to do anything at all except thinking about you.

On Becoming a Saxophonist

I found myself counting the minutes. My saxophone teacher is scheduled to arrive at 8.30pm. By 8pm I am officially paralyzed, doing nothing except browsing through saxophone pictures on Google Image over and over again and peering over my shoulder to track the minute hand on the clock against the wall.

He arrived much earlier than promised, which helped tame my anxiety tremendously. He then retrieved a brown rectangular box and handed it to me. It was heavy, but I am not complaining. I stood still for a few seconds to savour the moment. It was a milestone.

Four Years

Four years ago, I wanted so badly to become a songwriter. I thought that was something I could do better than others. So I emailed a producer and asked him about becoming a songwriter. The how, who, and what.

Write good songs, and let the right person listen to them, he said. Gladly he offered to listen to my compositions. Elated I was, that I anchored before my music notation software for a several months and began churning out the melody, then the harmony, then the rhythm. Thinking dreams could be kicked started so easily in a matter of a few audio clips sent as email attachments, I was crushed.