All Art, like all Love, has its roots in Heartache.
Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow it's mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
4 July 2007 -The Place
I have been in this place as early as 5.30am. And I have been in this place in the dead of the night. I have faced terrors, experienced pressure so great it would have crushed Altas's back, wrestled with tiger(s) in this place, but today would probably be the last time I would be back again.
I stand before this place, the campus of BPGHS which is to be torn down and rebuilt again. Like a phoenix, BPHGS reborn into something newer, perhaps better. The building may be gone, but the spirit of the place still dwells within the hearts of the people it had housed and nurtured- the BPian spirit. The spirit of deligence in study and practice when we march forward onto glory. The spirit of of the conservative, of willing bloodshed, of burning midnight oil (and when the oil is all burnt, we BPians burn our candles at both ends).
This is the place which I had lived and toiled in, shed tears and and lost blood. This is the place with the discipline master who makes it a point to talk to me periodically, the place found true friends, the place where I met the good, the bad and the ugly. The school's department heads know me by name.
This place is a place of fond memories. I had fought wars, waltzed, and sang. I had struggled with deadlines, wrote parodies, and performed. I had been a libarian, a wolf, a rogue, a thespian, a student, a miscreant, a vocalist, writer. I had met Michele. I have been to camps, failed tests, and as a true BPian, complain and complain about school policies.
I recall that on graduation day, Dexter and I hung out late in school. After most of the people had departed, he and I were singing the school song aloud, over and over again, for the last times as a BPian. And my eyes were perspiring slightly.
This is the place which I had grudgingly called my school for four years. And this is the place which I would proudly continune to call my school for many years to come.
30 sept 2007
I went back to BP for the Teachers Day celebrations. Ironic that in the past, I would have whined and griped about having to go, but today, I went willingly.
The campus is different, by the spirit has by no means changed. There is still the annual Food Delight, a tradition of BPians. I looked onto the unenthuiastic faces of my juniors and is amused to think that just last year, I felt that Food Delight was an insipid idea.
I recall that I use to be one of the many students who would, after the concert, go straight back to class and wait till 12, then rush home. Today, I see a repetition of this scene, students waiting till 12, then leaving the place as fast as possible. A few years from now, they will probably be like me, looking at their juniors, and wishing that they were BPians again.
Immersing in the BPian spirit is a great feeling. There is a sense of belonging. Hardly something a non-BPian would understand. Even in JC, I feel a sense of enstrangement. People are too concerned with grades, work, and other stuff. There is no college spirit. We have a college dance, and everyone get hyped up dancing, but at the end of the day, its just a dance. It has no soul. In BP, all we have is the school song. We do not even recite the creed. I myself do not know the creed to this day. But even as we sing our school song reluctantly, we wear our identity proudly as BPians.
This is the place I belong. I am home again.
Kudos to good old BPGHS
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Deligence in study and practice. Intergity.Teamwork.Responsibility.Learning.Service.
posted @ 12:45 AM
