Wednesday, June 08, 2011

The Red Pill or the Blue Pill

Today's lesson went unexpectedly well, with a very-organised and relatively-disciplined Kids Group and a cooperative Adults Group. Looks like segmentation worked, spilting the entire swarm up into two general categories allowed our limited manpower and equipment to be utilized to the fullest.

Still, as per Murphy's Law, things managed to happen. A kid ran into a pillar while being chased by seven others, and parents complained that their kids were not getting enough playtime. Accidents happen, and we can't be responsible if your kid slips on a piece of tissue paper and breaks his fragile head. All necessary and general precautions have been addressed, and if fate decreed that your kid smash his head into this pillar, it would take nothing short of the finger of God to cushion the impact. Thankfully, the child's parent laughed it off as a play-related mishap and not one of malicious intent.

As for the insufficient playtime, we have way too many kids to cater to, and in order for them to experience a big game with multiple players, we had to cut short their smaller, more cohesive team-based games. The kids didn't seem to mind, but the parents - ever vultures - noticed that their children were not getting the same treatment as the rest, and they paid the same price. Singaporean kiasuism even permeates something as unconventional as Nerf. After some explanation, the parents just wanted their kids to have fun and play, and was only asking for the rationale behind the shortened game time. There you have it, we have too many registered participants.

As a whole, today went extremely well, and I wish for this to continue, even if I'm running out of steam, motivation and encouragement. I'll live.

I read through my previous blog posts earlier today, and realised that the style of writing hasn't really changed. Yes, it is still flamboyant at times, but as compared to the posts of say 2006, I have toned down a lot. No longer do I use six different descriptives in the same sentence, and nowadays I hardly use vocabulary unrecognizable from Greek. One thing remains constant however, and is coincidentally the blog's primary driving force: emo posts.

Writing emo posts is just a way for me to vent frustration and unhappiness, like how some people punch the walls to relieve their anger, or how others shout out to the sea to eradicate their pent-up sorrow and stress. Instead of bottling it all up, which is bad according to certain prominent people around me, I pen those emotionally-charged thoughts and feelings down into this little weblog, one for further review, two for keeping record and three for others to have a glimpse of what goes through my cranium. So instead of asking me to stop writing emo stuff, try to encourage me to pour my heart out, as the more I write, the better I will feel in reality - it is just how I function. :)

As I scrolled through post after post, I found out that I write in very different lights under different circumstances. The post can be extremely flattering for the person mentioned, but the same person can also be written about in an utterly depreciating manner in a later post. I frighten myself sometimes.

Observation: we tend to want to confide in someone close to our heart whenever we're stricken with a crisis, hazard or threat, and want to let the other person know about the entire situation, even if she cannot do a thing about it, or doesn't understand the context at all. This manifested earlier, when those PR disasters emerged from the deep. I wanted to text you, to tell you how frustrated I was, how annoying those parents were, just to elicit a reply, even if it was something as shallow or simple as "Haha". My Berry actually came out of its holster, my left thumb scrolled to the appropriate screen, and with bated breath the other fingers were poised to commence the construction of a text message.

I stayed my hand.

For too long, the process has been lopsided. For too long, everything only happens from my end. For too long, I have pointlessly waited for the change which never came. You said plenty of stuff, but rarely did you carry those words through, leaving me to pine, to hope, to rot.

One message, or one call.

That's all that I ask for.

It will be an indication which speaks volumes, from which I will know when to release my grip.

When to give it all up.

When to let it all go.

So, if you're reading this, just send me one message, and from its content I will judge if I will carry on with hope or to let everything go with sorrowful despair.

Feed the fish kids. :)

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