Sun, Sand, Beach, Beer, Babes, Ball and Frisbee

Sand and sun, beach, beer, babes, ball and Frisbee; these are the ingredients that can rejuvenate even the weariest mind. There is something about beach day that makes me fall in love with life all over again. I remember a time when I would spend every weekend at Sunset bay to collect bruises over volleyball, drink beer to further aggravate the dehydration and indulge myself over the romance of having sand in my hair and all over a tired body that begs for a nice cold shower right after.

How many years have it been since I have taken those days for granted? It really is difficult nowadays to spend a day at the beach, and I can only imagine that it will get increasingly harder. While the sand and the sun are still there, the demands of a maturing lifestyle create distance between a weary mind and the simplest pleasures of life. From where I stand at this moment, I really can’t complain. I am still indulging the transient luxuries of student life yet tasting the responsibilities, and not to mention, financial supplements of having a job. It probably won’t be long before I venture into a nine-to-five program of drudgery so I constantly remind myself to live life to the fullest while I still can.

The problem however, is that my friends around me have moved on into the next progressive chapter, where commitment and responsibilities spell a daily schedule, leaving little time for rest, moreover the beach. Investment bankers, engineers, stock brokers, academics, architects; arranging a day at the beach with them would probably require a two-week notice pending an almost hopeless vacancy on their weekend schedule.

I was at Brighton beach yesterday. It was rather drafty so I was baking under the sun and bathing in the salty sea breeze in my tank top. There were almost fifty people there, over an annual occasion which a University club organised. I felt alive, just being on the sand and amongst students oozing with energy yet I couldn’t divorce myself from the fact that I was the oldest amongst them. That was made apparent when a chap walked up to me and identified me as his tutor this semester. I had fun nonetheless; you couldn’t have it any other way if you were playing volleyball for hours.

I did, however, wished that the boys were with me, just so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to let the inner child out to play. I miss the old days and I miss the boys from home. I wish the investment bankers, the engineers, airforce pilots and captains would take their time off every now and then, if just to humour me when I return home and live life the way we did when we just turned twenty.

It was a rejuvenating day at Brighton yesterday. My body feels tired from all the excessive jumping and my mind is fresh enough to last for another week. I did learn two things at the beach though; first, that every moment I get to live as a student needs to be cherished; and second, never wear a tank top on a day at the beach, unless red arms and a fair chest is the trend of the season.

Spider on Hair

I am stressed
what a mess
a spider got caught in my hair
I lack sleep
my mind will flip
if I do not stop to stare
at my laptop for hours straight
to take a break
get away
from this desk
and remember to get some rest

A spider came
looks just the same
as the one I earlier squished
It spoke to me
told me to make a wish
and I’m pretty sure that I have gone mad
but what the heck
who gives a rat
the spider may help release me from this plight
So I said to the spider thank you sir
‘Squished!’
and then the spider died.

(for Arnette)

At the end of May

A comely smile, from the other end
a memory which seems so long ago
a certain warmth which heals a broken man
and unwittingly the fondness grow
to usher in an unfamiliar dream
one of hope,
and many promises;
- perhaps a new chapter may unfold
and through many winters the flicker may fade
like the murky glow, over a silver lake.

Hope is strength, and failure all weld into one
like in stories told where tears are made
when the final pages suggest that it seems
that the wayfarer had been trekking through a futile dream
like withered petals after mizzled rain
a closing chapter,
without an author’s name.

Just a little complaint

I had to work from home for the entire week. There is a major reshuffling going on and my new office is still not ready. I was supposed to move into the new floor last week, but I was also naïve to think that things would go according to plan and bureaucracy was really a figment of my imagination.

Working from home is like fishing in a pond with a salad fork. The concept of home and work is an oxymoron – home work, which when put together means ‘having nothing done’ in Latin. They just don’t go together, which was why wise men from centuries ago created offices, the very arena which I do not have at he moment. Home is a place where you drink whiskey and listen to jazz; it is not a place for the laptop and a place to have anything productive done. There are enough distractions at home to take your attention away from Karen Knightly in a wet T-shirt…………. erm… … maybe not. But there are distractions around, like the fridge, the couch, the TV, the bed, and the worst of them all, my new PSP which sits there like a puppy dog with huge sparkly eyes begging for attention.

This can’t go on; I need my new office quick. I need my power points to charge my PDA, mobile phone, digital camera and Bluetooth headset. I need my air-conditioning when the going gets tough. I need a desk and a proper chair so my bum doesn’t get sore from its extended liaison with the carpet. Oh and I need my free Internet too. If administrators can be a little more considerate for their staff’s welfare, we’ll all live in a happier world.