Journal, Stills

The Soapbox That Never Will

Maybe you’ve missed me, maybe you haven’t. Originally, I had not planned on writing in here for yet another night, but as I was walking home from the train station, these words that are now the title, formed in my head. I don’t particularly know what they might actually mean to me, but perhaps I can offer a suggestion.

I don’t write in here these days, because I think about the amount of time I spend having to write, and then I wonder if there are better ways to spend my time, even if it’s to relax. And then, I start thinking about how if I write without a purpose, I would ultimately be failing you, the reader, because what you get out of it is simply haphazard thinking on my part, and not necessarily any value of new knowledge. Some times, I think about whether what I write in here would better fit the other blog, and then I start thinking in circles.

And really, it’s much easier and usually more rewarding to play Chrono Trigger than it is to find an excuse to write these days.

But I do miss it.

I think as we’ve matured, I’ve devalued writing in its own way. Not other peoples’ writing, but my own. It isn’t necessarily the action of writing, but perhaps the voice behind it. For some reason or another, I don’t pride myself in voicing these opinions down anymore. Some parts its due to me, other parts its due to my lack of faith in humanity because I’ve been saying certain things for years and then just because idiot sites like Thought Catalog write something similar, the world goes nuts with their new-found revelations. You might call it ego, but I feel like I’ve become some sort of forgotten soothsayer that perhaps got the prophecies beaten out of it.

Still, there is no one to blame but myself. Surely we have to put this into context, and I am. Definitely, if anything, no one, not even a lack of attention can be blamed for me not wanting to write, except me, myself. Everything else is an excuse, and the only reason why I’ve stopped writing is because I’ve stopped writing. In the end, it is the author himself who silences himself. Not censorship, nor the audience, nor even the end of the world nor the powers that be.

In the end, it is the author himself who silences himself.

So this is me claiming responsibility for my inaction. It’s not a lack of ability nor passion, but simply stagnation that I’ve allowed myself to be satisfied with silencing my own voice.

But the truth is, something has been brewing inside me, and it’s got something to do with wanting to be a part of this again, or at least, writing out my thoughts in the hope that I can find again what it is I wanted to say. There are so many things I wished I could tell, about the lessons I’ve learned about life, relationships, spirituality, professionalism and even creative pursuits. There are so many things that I’ve kept under wraps because I don’t know when the best time to say them is. Maybe there isn’t a best time, but I’m hoping that I progress but at least acknowledging these things.

So maybe I’ll end on this note, right after these wonderful pictures of Din and Weish performing as [.gif]



I caught [.gif] performing the last Friday that just passed. Amanda was working late as she had to take a night class, so my usual partner in crime wasn’t free till later in the evening. However, I’d always wanted to catch the duo play, and I decided that even if no one wanted to come with me initially, I would still make it down to the gig alone. Maybe catch a drink or two and spend an evening to myself.

While the plan was there, I was ultimately glad that Daryl, my bandmate with Shelves also decided to hang out (although he arrived after the band had performed), and my good friend from Leeson (and every other musical pursuit), Thomas, decided to come along. Shortly after that (and the band played), Amanda arrived as well. And it turned out to be a really wonderful night to me, personally. Two friends that I had not seen for a long time, remembering, laughing and making plans about future collaborations.

I walked away from that evening feeling particularly blessed, that I was surrounded by wonderful people, who understand and acknowledge my creative shortcomings and yet, continue encouraging me always. Let’s not forget that I had a brief chat with Weish and Din as well, as well as the folk from Obedient Wives Club, and this isn’t to name drop, but just these interactions made me remember how much I feel that I’m a part of Singapore’s indie music culture and community, and while I’ve stopped playing for about four to six months, the only person that ever really stopped, was me.

The only person who ever really stopped, was me.