Thursday, August 02, 2007
Stalk Keeper
I swear some days I feel like a stalker.
Every few days, I visit that blog site and get a piece of insight into his family life. The baby video clips that the Mrs. proudly posts regularly.
A very long time ago, I had envisioned what it was like to be his Mrs. It was simply because I thought we would yield good stock. Our kids would turn out good looking and intelligent enough with our combined powers and innate qualities.
I watched the baby grow as they mark the little milestones of her life captured on video from those first funny moments they encounter as new parents to her first signs of verbal expressions.
Today, I actually thought the baby is beginning to look half attractive. Previously, I did felt it was a pity that the little girl inherited nothing in the way of good features from her good-looking father. She was through and through her mother’s daughter- an imprint. I wasn't being partial but perceived my observations as a "fact" from the discernment of my quietly critical "cosmetic surgeon" eye. B and Dee Dee also did separately said the same thing without me pointing that out to them. What a waste of his good stock is what B criticise harshly.
Just now, I heard his voice on video for the first time.
It must be a good eleven years now since we have last spoken.
Funnily, I didn’t recognise him instinctively.
He mustn’t mean too much to me now then, must he?
We existed together in that era before we held pagers, mobile phones or corresponded by emails. Those days were eons ago and my memories of our joint moments have since been mished mashed to summate the thematic recollection of happiness. Memory snap shots of our joint happy moments where we loved and lusted boldly, recklessly and passionately epitomising youth, have thus found lucidity in the happy spot of my memory bank.
It is a new century and we have thus lived separately a few more new chapters since.
I looked at those pictures and video clips with a strange feeling, wondering why I am re-visiting the blog site again and again.
We had a connection a long time ago, actually we did have a very strong chemistry. But now he does looks like a stranger to me. He dons the role of father and husband in the visuals presented before me. I can hardly make any relation to that of him with me for the most part-- definitely not now.
Neither do I desire having him at present. I think I could have been her but then this is a probability and possibility, which is as with any other events that could have or could not have come into play in life with so much happening leading up to the current moment from that year I turned 17 when we parted and until now. Hence, really, it really means very little. So far, I have done well and haven’t dwell too hard on it or grow overly nostalgic to evoke that sense of pain and loss to trap myself in that ghost of a past…
But what then am I trying to hoard or satisfy from this regular blogsite visiting exercise?
I swear some days I feel like a stalker.
Every few days, I visit that blog site and get a piece of insight into his family life. The baby video clips that the Mrs. proudly posts regularly.
A very long time ago, I had envisioned what it was like to be his Mrs. It was simply because I thought we would yield good stock. Our kids would turn out good looking and intelligent enough with our combined powers and innate qualities.
I watched the baby grow as they mark the little milestones of her life captured on video from those first funny moments they encounter as new parents to her first signs of verbal expressions.
Today, I actually thought the baby is beginning to look half attractive. Previously, I did felt it was a pity that the little girl inherited nothing in the way of good features from her good-looking father. She was through and through her mother’s daughter- an imprint. I wasn't being partial but perceived my observations as a "fact" from the discernment of my quietly critical "cosmetic surgeon" eye. B and Dee Dee also did separately said the same thing without me pointing that out to them. What a waste of his good stock is what B criticise harshly.
Just now, I heard his voice on video for the first time.
It must be a good eleven years now since we have last spoken.
Funnily, I didn’t recognise him instinctively.
He mustn’t mean too much to me now then, must he?
We existed together in that era before we held pagers, mobile phones or corresponded by emails. Those days were eons ago and my memories of our joint moments have since been mished mashed to summate the thematic recollection of happiness. Memory snap shots of our joint happy moments where we loved and lusted boldly, recklessly and passionately epitomising youth, have thus found lucidity in the happy spot of my memory bank.
It is a new century and we have thus lived separately a few more new chapters since.
I looked at those pictures and video clips with a strange feeling, wondering why I am re-visiting the blog site again and again.
We had a connection a long time ago, actually we did have a very strong chemistry. But now he does looks like a stranger to me. He dons the role of father and husband in the visuals presented before me. I can hardly make any relation to that of him with me for the most part-- definitely not now.
Neither do I desire having him at present. I think I could have been her but then this is a probability and possibility, which is as with any other events that could have or could not have come into play in life with so much happening leading up to the current moment from that year I turned 17 when we parted and until now. Hence, really, it really means very little. So far, I have done well and haven’t dwell too hard on it or grow overly nostalgic to evoke that sense of pain and loss to trap myself in that ghost of a past…
But what then am I trying to hoard or satisfy from this regular blogsite visiting exercise?
