me and good friend Jian Wei
With more than 120 Singaporeans congregated for dinner, toasting, singing, gambling, and good old kopitiam talk, you would think that Chinese New Year 2006 was a great success. As a standalone event, it served its purpose, but how did it serve the future? For all we know the ‘dog’ that we revered on that day is now a grotesque mess on the street.
Wasn’t fortune supposed to be showered on us? Of course, that’s what Chinese New Year’s all about. Yet now I feel as empty as a cellar after all the beer kegs have been taken out, because a stupid fact keeps banging itself at the walls of my skull – it’s already 2006, with nothing to show for it so far. My fencing standards have stagnated; my writing has become tedious.
All calendars would certainly point out that only one-twelfth of the year has gone by, but I ask myself if I have lost that motivation to succeed, the love that drives me. I’m afraid that my answer will come up short. . . and I won’t be tall enough to reach for the stars.