<body> I sitting, look out upon, See, hear, and am silent.
...CHENGWEI


14th May 1986

4th Year Undergraduate @ NUS Business School
NUS Health and Fitness Club
NUS Piano Ensemble
Loves purple, running and piano

E-mail:
chengwei1405@gmail.com
MSN:
r.gellar@lycos.com


...ABOUT


Love Purple!

I Sit And Look Out
Walt Whitman.

I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband--I see the treacherous seducer of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be hid--I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny--I see martyrs and prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea--I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these--All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon,
See, hear, and am silent.

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      Thursday, July 17, 2008

      Morbid Musings

      A very bad headache, a close friend's blog entry, and a (meaningful) conversation with a confidante has led me to want to write about death.



      I've been wondering - if I were to drop dead and die, right this moment, what would happen?



      I'd imagine that besides my family, who'd natural be devastated, there'll be a few others - maybe 4 or 5 who would be crushed as well. A few would think 'she was so nice', some would be in disbelief - 'she was fine just yesterday/last week/two days ago'. One might live in regret, two may not laugh in awhile (but who knows, they could move on), it will cry, and wish and miss. A few - I've no idea how they'd react. A few will grieve, and (coldly) wisely move on with life.



      And then, many many many others, would be sitting in groups and saying, 'she was a year from graduating with honours'. Hopefully, a few will join in, and speak of the real me.



      ...



      If I knew I might die, and could meet just one person - I think my life would just slip away thinking who I should meet. The one I most want to meet. The ones who would want to meet me, and I should want to meet. The one I might utter dumb things to. The one who might calm me. The one who knows me, my fears, and saved my life. The one I respect so much. The one who would make me laugh. The one who'd hold me. The one I'd want to hold. This one, that one... oh dear. I think I'll leave silently.

      I remember the play I studied, 'Rosencrantz and Guildernstern'. It described death so vaguely, and yet so aptly.

      Rosencrantz: Do you think Death could possibly be a boat?
      Guildenstern: No, no, no... Death is "not." Death isn't. Take my meaning? Death is the ultimate negative. Not-being. You can't not be on a boat.

      not-being.

      Guildenstern: All your life you live so close to truth it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye. And when something nudges it into outline, it's like being ambushed by a grotesque.

      Guildenstern: No, no, no … you've got it all wrong … you can't act death. The fact of it is nothing to do with seeing it happen – it's not gasps and blood and falling about – that isn't what makes it death. It's just a man failing to reappear, that's all – now you see him, now you don't, that's the only thing that's real: here one minute and gone the next and never coming back – an exit, unobtrusive and unannounced, a disappearance gathering weight as it goes on, until, finally, it is heavy with death.

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