Feel better, friend.

I like my desk. It matches the drawers in the room and the armrests on the sofas. It goes with the walls and doors and ceiling which are either beige or a sullied shade of white. It reflects light in a similar way - similar, that is, to my own table, back at my own house. I like my desk because it became mine last week. It matches the drawers and the sofas and all the other aspects of the room, so it tells me that it is in the correct position. It is placed exactly where it was meant to be placed. With all the other things that are also in the correct order. It is at ease with itself, and with the friends around it. It is at home. Tonight I stood from across the street and tried to pick out the window that betrayed me every morning as it let the sun in. It looked just like any other window and I could not pick it out. I tried to find the specific blinds that rattled as I tried to find rest against the fiendish bed that had an automatic verbal response to every turn of my trou

Taha was the best show I've seen this year. Hlehel is outstanding in telling a story that needed to be told. He makes the best use of the monologue form, and his technique at keeping the attention of the audience is sublime. The intertwining of Taha's life story with his poetry was well-placed, relevant and thoroughly broke me by the end. The final poem - 'Revenge', sounded like a forgiveness that was hard to give, and as such carried with it the entire weight of Taha's personal story, and Hlehel's tie to him. It was personal, dynamic, and bore truths that resonated with me so deeply it shocked me. This was all I wanted from theatre.

" He was a scribble of a boy, all hair and mischief A two-foot tale of trouble, the bee's knees A cartwheeling chatterbox of tricks, completely fearless I had to carry a first aid kit, my band-aid boy I had my heart in my mouth wherever we went He'd do backflips into the pool when he was tiny And the lifeguards would get all stressed out He was a proper Mowgli, he embraced everything Took things apart to see what made them tick Such busy fingers He would empty sugar packets onto the tables In restaurants to draw pictures in He used to draw on anything Fantastical creatures with ferocious fangs And now he draws with words And I find lyrics on my till receipts and bills He was never still and barely slept, so neither did I I could never understand how he could watch TV Upside down while kicking a ball His eyes shone with wonder Music flowed through him like a current He'd upend a stool to use as a microphone Singing away for

There is this feeling that hits at the end of a show. You thank the audience and they leave in applause. Then it's quiet for a bit. You realise that you should have done it a couple more times. You realise that not everyone involved in the production will work together again. You feel like your work is too good to have only been seen that many times. Like there were flaws that could have been corrected so that the show would become better. You dream of Broadway. You dream of being good enough. You dream you could make money doing a hundred shows. And then a hundred more. You want to have a few more hours with the people you've come to like a whole lot. This struck me 2 weeks after my show. The longest it has. And it keeps me up for a few moments. I didn't want it to end. I don't want any  of it to end. but it has, and they will, forever and ever and ever. And things are never enough, and life is never enough, and I will try and fail to find the

I think I feel better already lor. Still need to remind myself to feel better meh? --- Yes. Ya. I don't know la. Just help people lor. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LfhHOFUT3s&feature=youtu.be With the help of so many wonderful, talented, dedicated young people, we made this little work of art. Kelly's words come to life. So simple, yet I don't know la. It made me feel really happy. And I hoped that it made others feel happy too. --- I know la, Nat. I know one. Just help people lor. No one cares if you have a fever's worth of degrees, or if you are just a straight line's worth. No one la. Or at least it shouldn't. You don't think a professor is any more of a human being than my aunty who works at NTUC now. In fact she is one of the people you look up to the most. She took care of you for a few weeks when you were small. Bought you nasi lemak that you never finished. Introduced you to Diet Coke. Watched Hamtaro and 5 o'

'You make me ha- -ppy' http://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/she-put-herself-through-school-after-dad-walked-out-on-family-and-graduated-with-flying "Determination never fails you"  "Once I didn't have to work and worry about money so much, I started to volunteer as a tutor to children from poor families under the Chinese Development Assistance Council. I wanted to give back. After all, all the bursaries had helped me."  --- I'm sorry for not helping you -- You are my sunshine My only sunshine you make me happy when skies are grey you'll never know dear how much i love you! please don't take my sunshine a- way. --- "Well, sing! And dance!" --- Well, sing. And dance! Look for these things, because these are the people you want to be with! And my world becomes smaller and smaller as I discover these monumental beauties I see in those that just try to make - better. Please don'