Always be thankful (Formal Blog)

1.) Lyrics:

The song itself can be catchy but it never gets into my good books (tunes in this case), if it doesn't contain wholesome and appropriate lyrics.

2.) Vocals:

A nice music track definitely has to be complimented with vocals which stand out, or at least touch you in some manner. Unlike several of my peers, I feel music alone doesn't stand well by itself.

3.) Tune:

A good song definitely makes you want to sing along.

I guess the tune and vocals of a song are more or less recognized as important in a world of music. You may be asking however, why I value lyrics so much.

Lyrics are the main part of a song; the body. A song with inspiring and uplifting lyrics is a good encourager when you are feeling down; likewise, lyrics wallowing in self-pity and self-denial have the ability to make you feel depressed and sorrowful. In this time and age, songs revolving impure subjects, such as suicide and sex are rampant. Worst of all, these songs most of the time have big choruses which are able to hook themselves into your mind even after having listened to them only once. Impure thoughts then start to infiltrate your mind, and before you know it, it's part of you. Likewise, if you choose to listen to songs with good lyrics, positivity and optimism become part of you.

It's hard to stick to your own morals and values, when our modern world encompasses a big portion of immorality and negativity which might eventually corrupt our minds. However, I do believe that by choosing songs with the right lyrics, we will be able to preserve our right states of mind and not be overwhelmed with following the world constantly, even when it is headed in the wrong direction.

Images courtesy of:

My church friends and I had just eaten lunch after the church service, and were heading back to our homes from the airport when I received the message from my mother. There was a sudden burst of excitement within me. 7 months! I had waited 7 months for this. Without delaying any further, I hastily headed down to the MRT station to take the train to Simei.

My old blue bike was a prized possession of mine. The apple of my eye, it never failed to disappoint when delivering speed and stability at the same time. Unfortunately, an overtly eager me had exerted to much strength on the pedals once, when I was cycling, in a bid to increase my speed, and as a result, unscrewed it from the axis of the pedal itself. As a result, I had not been able to cycle since the December holidays. A long and painful 7 months it was without my bicycle.

The bicycle shop sat humbly at a quiet end of East Mall, out in the open, where human traffic was significantly lower than inside the mall. Not a big shop, I noticed instantly, but that was no problem, for it still housed a sizable range of bicycles to choose from. My eyes instantly set themselves on a rugged looking mountain bike. Rough tire threads, intimidating wheel diameters, complimented with a black coat of paint: something I thought would make a perfect partner to speed. However, through the recommendation of the owner of the shop, we were led to a significantly smaller bicycle, this one blue in colour, but a lighter shade than the one I currently owned. This one possessed a user-friendly gear too. After my father and I had both taken it for a short ride, we fell in love with the way it ran so smoothly and hence paid for it there and then. I was the proud owner of a shiny new blue bicycle.

The next day, I immediately took my new toy for a spin around my estate. As I cycled out of the void deck, there was a rush of adrenaline in me, and I smiled as the wind welcomed me warmly, brushing against my cheeks. I appreciated that the gear system on my new bike allowed me to change the tightness of the gear system, which in turn affected how "light" or "heavy" the pedals were when you were cycling. I hardly enjoy taking the easy way out though, so I decided to put it to 7, the tightest the gear system can get.

Deciding to be ambitious, I cycled up to the flyover connecting Sengkang and Punggol. Don't let the arch shape of this seemingly easy challenge fool you though. The first half of the arch requires a large amount of stamina and leg power (for me at least) to conquer. Sure enough, when I had reached the peak of the arch, my legs were screaming in strain. The view and the breeze though, paid of my efforts. The downward ride was even more delightful, even exhilarating.

I guess the arch represents many things in life. The climb up is always the worst part, but once it's over, everything else brings us joy. So don't ever give up; falling down isn't defeat, not getting up is.

"Life's a climb, but the view's great."

We were celebrating my brother's birthday in advance, and after much contemplation had arrived at this restaurant as our choice destination of the celebration. Excited as always, I took the lead and eagerly strode through the garden. Arriving at the entrance, I anticipated the normal door handles and was about to reach out and push one of the doors open, when the two doors slid open. Instantly, I was welcomed with a blast of cold air. A good first impression, I noted to myself. I looked around the restaurant in interest, as the rest of my family members appeared behind me. Based on the miniature garden, I had not expected the restaurant to be very big, and what I saw reassured my assumptions. A bar-like counter with chairs placed all around it was situated at the right side of the restaurant and on the left, two tables with tatami mats. I had seen this kind of arrangements from television shows promoting Japan, and was delighted at the close resemblance to to them.

Almost as soon as we had all stepped into the restaurant, a tall and burly man donning a chef's uniform and cap received us with a smile and led us to one of the tables, which we had reserved earlier on. Introducing himself as the manager and head of the restaurant, he quickly moved on to recommending the signature dishes of the restaurant. It took us a while to sort out our dinner menu, but we got it done eventually, and thereafter, went on a "tour" round the restaurant. It turned out that there were more tables and tatami seats, concealed behind three rooms with partitioned doors. In addition, there was another room housing two normal wooden tables along with a sofa and TV set. It was explained to us that those were rooms that had to be booked beforehand, along with a course meal which you decided on personally based on the dishes served at the restaurant. When asked about how many days in advance arrangements had to be made, the chef also told us that one day was enough, but Tuesdays and Fridays were better days to make reservations on, as seafood was flown in from Japan on these two specific days.

A while later, our food arrived. Being avid Japanese food fans, we could tell the difference between the quality of the food served here and those in normal outlets, such as Suki Sushi. Absolutely fantastic. However, this being a place of fine dining, I had to watch how I ate and spoke. I was often told off by my parents for speaking too loudly and handling my utensils wrongly. What followed was a very awkward me, trying to figure out the most refined way to hold my utensils and at the same time, ensuring that I was not consuming my food in a boorish manner, while trying my best to control the volume at which I spoke.

The dinner though, was overall a good experience. I enjoyed every single bit of food which entered my mouth, save a few pickles, and the ambiance and comfort of the restaurant further complimented the fine dining experience. The bill, you may ask? A whopping $293.65, even after a twenty percent discount. My jaw dropped when I realized how much we had spent on one dinner. My parents however, reasoned that a birthday celebration was a once a year affair. What's more, this had been the first time we had gone for fine dining as a family. Hmmm... Thanks Ma and Pa, but I think I'll stick to Suki Sushi.

It was most definitely not a pleasant one. Up till now, I have no conscious idea of how my sub-conscious mind had pictured me to be in that state. I have no clue as to why I was going to die, but I do remember of the dream is me lying on a pavement with a wound in my chest, breathing heavily, holding on dearly to whatever was remaining of my life. Thoughts and questions flashed across my mind. Confusion. Despair. I was overwhelmed with sorrow, as the realization of the fact that I would not even be able to whisper a goodbye to my family and friends hit me. Goodbye to growing old enough to drive. Goodbye to venturing out of Asia for a holiday. Goodbye to life. And then it was VOOM(I don't think any form of onomatopoeia describes how it felt as well as this non-existent word does), and I was up and watching bleary-faced me in the mirror brushing my teeth.

Do we actually live like we're dying? That is to mean, if you were to die tomorrow, would you be happy with the way you lived your life? I don't know about anyone out there reading this post, but I definitely wouldn't.

A song by Kris Allen, called Live Like We're Dying, pretty much sums up my thoughts about this matter. Here are the lyrics.

One important thing in living life without regrets, is living in the moment, as the song has expressed through it's lyrics. It's all about now. Not the past, not the future, but the present. We have to go about being sure of our actions, having a clear direction in life, and not just wandering around. Time wasted, will never come back. It's all about living in the present, in the "now" moment. The title of Taylor Swift's upcoming album, "Speak Now", is an apt point of view presented about how we should be living. See the "now" in that phrase? Don't be afraid to be speak out, don't be afraid to be who you are. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Be brave and face life as you would if you only had one more day to live. No room for regrets.

As the famous quote goes: live life, laugh lots, love forever.

Speaking of which, have you told your parents you loved them?

Lyrics courtesy of: