monkeycrap's Diaryland Diary
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Canada trip - Day 7
Day 7 - Tourist trap day
I begin this entry with a riddle that I'd thought of while on the deceptively long road from Capilano to Grouse. You might wanna, in the future, pose this riddle to your grandkids during one of your bonding sessions.
What gets heavier as it gets emptier?The heart.
I write this atop Grouse mountain, while slopping down on a white plastic chair, in a cafe balcony overlooking the entire Vancouver. The air is impregnated with the frequencies of arabian folk riffs, delicately trumpeted by the nearby stereo system. The view, as evidenced by the pics, stupefying. Experienced snow for the first time and realised that it ain't wise having a snowball fight with yourself. Less kick, more cold. But yeah, rolled in it, sat on it, slided, fell, trekked, basically just stopping short of bathing in it.
However, despite it all, today still feels sad. For some reason. Perhaps it's because what goes up must come down, and the past few days have been nothing but upness. Or maybe it's just one of those days. I mean, everyone's entitled to 14 days melancholic leave every year, days where you're allowed to feel terrible for no apparent reason. I've to use up mine soon, because you can't carry over your 14 days from one year to another. Of course, some people need more than 14 days, but have to consider on case-by-case basis la.
But yeah, I'm feeling terrible. It's that indescribable temporary feeling of helplessness, of longing for something. Or someone. To want to be back in that consciousness that was experienced the other day upon traversing the Lions Gate Bridge. The feeling's still there in my memory, but it's like, kenna misfiled in wrong docket la. And even if you do locate it, there'll be more obstacles, more inside stuggles such as this, that'll hit you unexpectedly and challenge your new found vigour, your newly established vehemence. It's like the peaks here; 'yi shan bi yi shan gao'. And even if you do conquer Mount Everest, people'll still go, "Cheh, haven't swam in Pacific Ocean yet wat."
Love is one, but its aspects are many. And there're certain aspects that are so lacking, so wanting, so inadequate in my life. Those close to me would know. Some aspects I'd never, ever be able to get no matter how much I wish for it. Wah that one jialat sia. Some, well, let's just leave it at input not equal to output. Others, well, still seeking but in need of directions. And then there're those, well, still exploring but very tired already.
When you're in the process of undergoing involuntary, subconscious self-reflection amidst a glorious backdrop of pure, unblemished whiteness, it's hard to ignore these feelings. They just pull at you, tauting you up, making it easier for them to eat you alive. Sometimes you fend them off with a sigh, with a 'Sudah lah', or in the case of Canadians, an 'I'm good!!' Sometimes you fend them off by telling yourself to take it easy, lower expectations, don't anticipate reciprocation etc. Which is true and makes sense, but these feelings, not unlike viruses, get immune to them and mutate into deadlier, foolhardier strands. It's like, I'm able to deal with it when I'm heavy with emptiness. But it's a lot harder when suddenly, you're empty, with heaviness. Get what I mean?
Saw this little girl of most probably French Canadian heritage, really cute, will grow up to be a heartbreaker. She was dressed in a pink windbreaker, with royal blue sockcap and scarf and brown fur boots and mittens to match. She was sliding, playing with snow, throwing snowballs, traipsing around in tiny steps, leaving tiny footprints in the process. Her mother and father then beckoned her to come, and she hamstered her way back to their arms. Hallmark Christmas card moment, man.
Don't know why that had an impact on me, just like I don't know why I'm feeling so low. Maybe it's just cos I get bored and boring easily. Maybe it's cos the Grouse Grind trail was closed, thus I had to pay so much to enter Grouse. Maybe it's also cos I paid so much to enter the Capilano Bridge.
Yeah the pics look good, and it was great shaking on the bridge and trying to bump old ladies off it and into the Capilano River. And as usual, wondrous views of wildlife sustained by the gushing strains of the river's distributaries. But not worth the money paid, definitely. Was thinking of Kundera's definition of vertigo whilst looking down from the bridge. Why do we experience vertigo and feel like falling off the bridge? Even if got railing to hold on, even if know that sure won't fall one lah? Because you want to fall. Something inside's telling you, enticing you to drop, drop, drop. And you're scared to do so and know that it ain't wise, but on the other hand, unknowingly kinda feel like doing so. It's the same, falling off the bridge and falling in love. Unless you happen to be some old lady who kenna bumped off by some chunky Singaporean kid.
This entry has been sad and maybe to some, whiny. Well, it's how I felt that day. Will end off with something that made me felt happier, something I saw while plodding along Capilano road.
With a surname like that, he'd definitely feel worse than I did.
11:01 a.m. - 2006-06-01
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