Flashback

   "Might I remind you that you're a fully grown adolescent messing around with a Matchbox Aston Martin?"

"It's an engineering masterpiece, Danny. It looks stunning too!"

"it's a scaled down model toy car, dude."

"I don't have a driving license to drive the real thing."

Matthew Callahan continued appreciating the beauty of the DB3, once a British sports car and regular racer at the now defunct racetrack they were on, the Thomson Road Circuit, a famous venue in the racing scene back in the sixties. Along with him was Daniel Rose, a close friend of Matthew. The perennial summer afternoon had been damped by a shower of rain in the morning, and the flora surrounding the road was a brilliant green, the road itself shaded by huge trees, casting a shadow over the two peeps. Time has eroded the famous race track to a kind of lengthy, winding tarmac a rally driver would enjoy, and the kind of beautiful scenery Matt and Danny would gladly bask in.

"So this place used to be a racetrack?" Daniel walked beside Matthew, kicking up loose gravel. 

"Yeap. Racing back then was pretty different than what it is now though. Too controlled." Matthew heaved a sigh before having one last look at the toy. He keeps the car deep in his left breast pocket.

As a budding photographer, Daniel didn't mind tagging along in Matt's adventures exploring obsolete places with amazing environments. Matt would have a companion to express another side of the reserved character that is Matthew Callahan, and Danny would have another collage of pictures to show off, complete with the unwilling model, when Matt was having his brighter days.

But despite the generous amount of time spent together, Matt was still wary of regarding Daniel anymore than an acquaintance, and Daniel was already content with what little camaraderie they had, the picture gallery he had seemed to him like a bargain.
 

"Spare me the history lesson, old man. I'll be short of a few albums when you finally leave for Cambridge."

"Yeah, it's been fun being used. I'll miss you there, man." Matthew was amused with Danny's frankness.

"Of course you will, more than your family and friends, Matt. How are you gonna cope out there man?" Matthew wasn't sure, but he might have just felt a hint of genuine concern from little Danny Rose.

"I don't know, dude; I'll manage though. How about your photography exploits?" Matt was eager to change the subject. Danny had a mouth as loose as his baggy trousers.

"I'll pull through. I could use a time warp to the present and go for the current attractions. Damn if I miss the pristine nature though."

They came to an ancient concrete bench, braving the test of time. Daniel continued snapping shots from his DSLR while Matt sat down, taking a long swig of water from a bottle, meanwhile picturing a life-scale version of his toy car whizzing past in traditional British racing colours, a deep shade of green.

"So you leave tomorrow, right? Maybe I can see you off, you know, for old times' sake." Daniel was asking between snapshots.

"Yeah, not really. I leave in the wee hours of the morning, man. This is the last time you'll be seeing Matty Cally before he leaves."

"Really." Daniel didn't flinch. The photographer was hiding behind his camera, and Matt knew it.

"Look, it's been really been brilliant going on these adventures and having you around, man. I know we're not brothers or whatever, but I wanted you to know it's been a ton of fun. So thanks, man."

Danny sighed and let the camera down from his eyes. He takes a seat beside Matt on the bench and relaxes, stretching his hands on the old concrete, while Matthew sits hunched, resting his head on his hands.

"Relax dude. I know we haven't been on the best of terms but I understand where you're coming from. Thank you too, for all this you know. We've been through lots of shit, but it was some pretty good shit, man."

Matt and Danny heartily laughed it off, before reaffirming their friendship with a bump of the fists. The two guys may be on different terms, but in the end, all that matters will be the knowledge that your buddy has your back, as you do his.

Lostprophets - Better Off Dead

Purgation

   "It's all really simple. Nothing a six month old guitarist can't do. Give it a try. First, do a G, then G2, then a D tab. "

"You do know you make all this sound too easy right?"

"It is what it sounds like, Kyla. Simple yet brilliant. Kinda like me, you know."

Skylar Williams shrugged off the comment by blowing loud raspberries at her friend and guitar guru Matthew Callahan. The morning dew from the long grass of the garden radiated a fresh scent that seemed to be aiming for the balcony where Kyla sat on a plush divan, trying to get to grips with the six-stringed finger buster, a Gibson Hummingbird belonging to Matt.

"So how are you getting along in your quest to rule the skies?" Kyla asked between strums.

Matthew is a student at Cambridge University chasing his dream of becoming a pilot. He has come a long way from home, and despite only having left Singapore for two months, Kyla could tell he was already feeling a tinge of homesick. For Skylar was a shrewd psychology student at the same campus, and could make out the telltale signs of a homesick puppy.

"It's going fine I guess. Apart from busting my brain with the math every other day, it's all dandy. Seems you've got the hang of the first few tabs. Next do an E minor, then a D, then the G2 and G for this part."

Matt was introducing Kyla to the music scene, her first instrument being the guitar, at her request. He starts her off with the simple stuff, beginning with an acoustic rendition of Green Day's Good Riddance. It also helped that Skylar had a good ear for music, which, in Matt's eyes, just meant she had a similar taste to him, and was familiar with the song. Skylar pauses abruptly before starting on the next set of tabs.

"I'm pretty sure you'd be chuffed to bits to have your family around these parts," Skylar pipped in, keeping a nimble eye on Matt's microexpressions.

"Yes, I may be missing my peeps back home, Kyla. What else can you conclude from your psychoanalysis of your subject here, Doctor Williams?" Matt replied with a hint of bemused sarcasm.

Matt didn't like being figured out easily. He took pride from knowing more about his compatriots than they do about him, and while he wasn't chasing a psychology degree, he was astute enough to counter whatever mind-game pedigree Skylar had. 

"Well, captain," Kyla starts, a jab at his dream career, "You seem to be missing a certain dear friend as well, and I would love to help you if not for these troublesome strings here."

Matt didn't like where this was going. Neither did he like the sounds emanating from the Gibson. Some of the strings were brushing off Kyla's dainty fingers, letting out a suppressed tick. 

"I miss all of my friends," Matt mutters nonchalantly, as he grasps Skylar's hand on the fretboard, and starts correcting her when necessary, almost shadow playing the guitar, all the time handling Skylar's fingers with all the smoothness of a puppeteer with his marionette from above.

Skylar silently mimics Matt's long fingers, thoroughly enjoying the whole experience.

"Of course you jolly well do, but I'm pretty sure all of them aren't named Isabella." 

Matt was immediately caught off guard, releasing whatever pressure he had on Skylar's fingers on the fretboard. Skylar though, was content to keep the pressure on and continue playing, having hit home.

"So who is this Isabella girl?" Kyla pressed him.

Matt was oblivious to her question; he could feel Kyla's brunette hair flowing in the wind against his shoulder. A faint smell of lavender seemed to disrupt the steady flow of the morning air. The sun shone through Skylar's left, and Matt had his breath taken away as Skylar's charming caramel face revealed a shimmer of light from a pair of lovely brown eyes, hiding behind her black thick-framed spectacles. 

"What?" Matt managed, still transfixed by the beauty that beheld his eyes.

"Captain, we've lost power from the engines!" Kyla exclaimed, playfully snapping her little fingers in front of him. 

"That's very funny, Doctor." Matt was out of his trance, albeit still taking in Skylar's beauty inconspicuously.

"Just know that the paybacks are a pain. Anyway, Isabella's an old flame; it doesn't matter."

Skylar had put the guitar down on a stand facing the divan. She rested her head on his right shoulder, deftly inserting the Linkin Park themed guitar pick into his left breast pocket.

"As old a flame as that guitar?" Kyla asked inquisitively.

So that's how she knew, Matt exclaimed in his head. The guitar was a gift from Isabella, and it featured a small signature of her name she had signed herself among the white dove decorative found embellishing the pick guard. He could still make out the small inscription spelling out "Izzy" on the guitar from where he was. 

"Yeah, that's how I found out, Matt." Skylar could see Matt's eyes had turned to the guitar as he figured it out.

"You're getting really interested for a psychoanalysis, Doctor. Alright, she wasn't just any other girl. She bought me that as a gift, would you believe that?" Matt gestured toward the Gibson.

Indeed, Isabella Summers was in many ways a really close friend of Matthew. But it was only very unfortunate that all the relationship they had together was thrown away under a startling turn of events both found too hard to handle. And although they're both now on casual terms, Matthew was wistful to let go of what they used to have together.

"I wonder what kinda paint thinner she was smelling when she thought of that." Skylar kidded.

Matt laughed it off but although it was all humorous to him, Skylar could see he was still deep in thought regarding the curious character that is Isabella Summers.

John Mayer - In Your Atmosphere

D-Day part 1

  As I trudged through the blast doors that enveloped the opening of the day surgery centre, my mind was away thinking of the other guys who were meeting up at Jurong for a swim. I wanted to keep my mind off what I'm going through, I felt it was sort of a huge farce of a problem. Cataract surgery and the whole process, as I've read, seemed pretty minor and uneventful. The risks were small, the duration even smaller. The operation took thirty minutes, the hours that passed will be used to shake off the anesthetics.
         
                              Still wouldn't mind splashing in some water though.

After waiting the trademark hospital duration of approximately five thousand years, I am led into a ward-ish room filled averagely with patients and nurses all minding their own business. I'm assigned a bed and tended to by a nurse. I'm asked questions, drug allergies, loose teeth, any medication I'm on, any fever. No no no no no. I was given then some hospital garb to change into before coming back and answering yet more questions. After quiz time was over, the anesthetist came by to have a look. Probably the jolliest Indian guy I've met so far this year. The positive energy seemed to radiate throughout the whole room. I yawned a reply. It was still pretty bloody early in the morning, and the surgeon was late, so anesthetic were probably not needed to knock myself out.


Soon after, I was wheeled through the ward into the operating theatre on my bed. Al I saw were the glaring fluorescents whizzing through. It almost seemed unreal. I couldn't believe what I was going through. As I'm pushed into the room, I'm transferred by my bottom onto another bed equipped with all sorts of medical equipment. A heart monitor faces the anesthetist and a high power lamp looms above the head of who was probably the lead surgeon. I make out the anesthetist affirming that he has allowed the anesthetic to flow through into my body through the tube stabbed into the artery of my hand. A nurse brings over an oxygen mask for me to breathe in. A few awkward moments pass as everyone waits for me to knock out. I breathe in the cold oxygen and felt myself relaxing. I felt my heartbeat slowing. My eyes suddenly felt droopy, and everything suddenly blacked out.


I came to in the ward, the first glances back into this world blinding. From one eye anyway. The other was closed shut in an eye shield, safely protected from any sort of danger. I still felt really really weak though, so I relaxed again and soon I knocked out yet again. When I awoke again, I still felt pretty bloody weak hahaha the anesthetic was some strong dope. I had to get up and leave for home though, otherwise it was a night in hospital, and a hole in my parents' pocket.

After leaving I was still weaker than normal. My throat was unusually dry, my head pounding and I had half my vision. I come back home and slept again. The advice I got was to refrain from any sports, any bright sunlight and generally doing anything with my left eye. That generally also took away half of my life and two weeks off my holiday time, as I had to become a couch potato. My right eye is due next week, and I sure am not looking foward to wasting any more holiday time.


In the wise words of infamous immature idiots idiots, YOLO.

John Mayer - Gravity

catharsis

The coming of December marks the end of another year and the dawn of a new one. So for entertainment I shall put down a few highlights of this year and maybe a few stuff to look out for come next year.

 - Hilarious STE results. Personally I believe I can do much much MUCH better but I've moved on from that. Now that's left is for Os. For further details, read on.

- Cataract surgery. Due on the fifth and the twelfth, cause I've got two eyes, and really I'm buzzing to see what I've been missing with the new monofocal lenses(wish they could be coloured though) Those who are actually curious and not just shitting me, the natural lenses in my eyes, that can focus naturally make things clear due to processes I can't explain clearly, we'll call it magic, into synthetic lenses that can't focus and instead only look good at a specific distance. So I'll get better on long range but need spectacles on my near sighted behalf. Pretty buzzed, can't wait.

 - The going of a kindergarten friend overseas to continue his studies. Honestly, you've cost me more trouble than anything else, I have no reason to think you'll be any different there, if not worse, and I wish you all the best. Goodbye and good riddance.

- A change of environment. Due to some corporate upper level fiasco at school, the secondary students are dumped for snot nosed pain in the anus primary children and we are well kicked (colocating is such a soft political sugar coated word) out to another institution while still wearing the school badge, amazingly. There are a shitload of things wrong with my school, but I've got only my final year, so cheers lads.

 - To be honest I also miss the good old days when nothing mattered as much as our own selves. They say teenagers are the best time of our lives and I can understand why. You have the spending power of an adult yet have the same responsibility a child has. So spend your time to your fullest, my teenage friends.

 - O' Levels. Next year is a paramount year where everything will matter. Unlike STE, this holds a much much bigger impact on my future.  Expect lots of studying, having fun, and more desertions of this blog hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha kidding.

 - Graduation. D-Day cannot come faster. After waiting five years, I've been through a lot in this school, but while I'll miss all my friends and all that sappy stuff, I have to look forward and move on. This isn't to say I'll forget my own school, but moving on never meant forgetting history.

 - WP7.8. This software update, this minor software update, which is less expansive than WP8, is being relelased "early Q1, 2013". Besides the fact that there are WP7.8 devices being sold earlier, this is utter garbage. What's the delay, Microsofties?

 I'll stop here and regulate your food for thought. It's been nice letting everything out. Till next time fellas.