Scarred for life.


The world spins and functions with a certain level of irony.

At least from my point of view, in my case.

When people in Singapore Sleep, people in Europe are just about to go about their daily business. That's quite an irony to me. One's rest is another's time for labour.

We live on the same third planet from the sun, but we have totally different clocks.

Irony is beautiful.


That's why poets, writers, lyricists often use irony in their works to bring new meaning. But my point here. Is nothing fancy. I just find it so IRONIC that i blog more when I'm busy and less when I'm NOT!!! Just finished working on the long radio drama on 95.8fm.


Some of you might not know, but I do freelance radio production for mediacorp radio, which is something I like to do other than singing. Heh. But working through till the wee hours of the morning, just in time to say "Gd morning" to Pf is not healthy lifestyle because we live in Singapore and not Europe.


So for three months or so, that's how my lifestyle has been, i wake up in the afternoon and I factor in time to produce the radio drama, and time for other things. Things are busy as a bee.


But now(what a relief!) that that's over. I find I have so much free time to read a book, have afternoon tea with my cousins, surf the internet, listen to music, play the guitar. But not blog.


Talking about the guitar... after owning the Taylor for a good 5 months, I've taken really good care of it. I never leave it in the car even when I'm out. It travelled with me to Taiwan, sat in the same bumpy car we were in, went through the cold end of Taipei to the hot end of Kending, and it came back still looking chirpy.


One day, my Dad borrowed my 'Baby' to cell group. And it came back with two huge cracks on it.


I was devastated. I don't think I've cried that much for a long time. The tears wouldn't stop! I was bawling. I felt as though I was 5 years old and my dad broke a promise. I just couldn't stop shouting "Dad-deeeee!!!!!! its MYYYY guitar!!!!!"


My tears were mixing with my mucus which was mixing with my saliva. Gross huh. My mum appeared, and hugged me. And i continued bawling in her arms whilst my Dad attempted to lift the mood by playing Happy Tunes on my cracked 'Baby'.




"Don't you think it sounds alot better now?" he would say in between my sobs.

"I'll buy you a new one la."

"*in between splutters of sniffs and choking on my own tears* ITS 500 dollars!!!!"

"............" *continues playing happy tunes*




Looking back. I thought it was a hilarious scene.

Especially the part where my dad kept playing Happy tunes when it was obvious the situation was far from being a happy one. And my mum's comfort came in the form of a hug and by repeating the entire process of how my Dad adjusted the car seat ONTO my guitar and how she heard a huge *CRACCCCKk!!!!!* in 10 different variations.


But the thing about parents. You can't blame them. I was crying so badly, because i knew I couldn't blame them. I couldn't bring myself to scold or lecture my dad. I could only scream in 5 year old daughter fashion.

My 'baby' was in the hospital for a month.

'Baby' is now back at home... but with one visible crack and a not so perfect finishing. I still let my fingers run gently over the area that was hurt... and somehow. I feel its pain.


It was made to perfection by the best craftsmen in the world. It was tuned and modeled to brilliance. Its varnishing, the wood that was used. Best of its kind.

And before you can say "wa, this guitar chio hor?", it was scarred for life by the Front seat of a Honda Accord.

Its really one of a kind now. I think I'll take even better care of it from now on. The guy at the shop says Taylor has stopped making my type of guitar. The raw, naked version. Which makes 'baby' even more special now. I made a good choice. And as limited as these guitars are going to be from now on. My 'baby scarface' is one of a kind.

Perhaps, beauty lies in the imperfections of things.


Ironic huh?

~

oh and encouragement today came in the form of a stranger who dreamt of me and located me on facebook
to give me that encouragement. Wow. I'm in dreams of people I don't know personally.
Now that's a thought. A good thought. Thanks. =)