Thank you for showing me your true colours. I would never have imagined that you were such a self-centred, bigoted and biased asshole.

You are the worst sort of Singaporean, the one who cannot accept defeat gracefully with your head held high.

Your kind of attitude has led me to wonder where our education system has gone wrong.

Or perhaps it’s your lack of breeding.

Whatever it may be, I’m thankful to have gotten rid of you early on in my life, or you’d be a leech in my life in the future.

I must investigate this strange phenomenon of people who aren’t sick but go to the clinic anyway.

They look well-dressed, as if they spent the better part of the last hour preparing for the visit to the clinic - as you might, for, say, a wedding dinner.

Where they promptly whip out a newspaper that they’ve prepared, or they start conversations with their parents/children/whatever.

In a manner that is no less placid than if, say, they were waiting for a train.

Heck, I’ve seen people at a train station look more stressed out then these people are.

It’s a week to the day my Uncle left us, and Mum is taking this loss harder than anyone else. 

This song is for her.

And for my Uncle Francis, whom I’m sure is now smiling upon us from his home in Heaven.

This is ‘The Tribute’

The Tribute

You were brother and sister

As close as people could be

You spent those many years

Together while growing up

It was hard for you to stand aside

And watch life take him away

You did everything you could

To stop the eventual end

But it was too little too late

The end had all be written

There was nothing you could do

To make it go away

I saw the pain in your eyes

When you watched him slip away

The shadows of the memories

Clouded over your face

Oh Mother I know you hurt

But that’s just part of life

The giving and the taking

The beginning and the end

Don’t blame yourself for anything

You did what was the best

Those many hours spent weeping

Won’t cure what has been done

Now the past can’t be unwritten

What’s done is done and gone

The thing that you must do now

Is to stay on strong

So Mother dry those tears off

Wipe your eyes and smile

We all know he’s in a better place

And he’s smiling for us too

Yes we know he’s in a better place

And he’s smiling for us too

Written by Kelvin Chan

21 August 2010 11.30pm

Why do people come to a funeral to talk about how you die?

If it were me, I would ask everyone to come here and talk about how I lived.

I am getting really good writing these sappy love songs, it seems. Maybe I have been listening to way too much Celine for my own good.

But anyway, I digress.

It seems that many of my songs are written about everlasting love. What do I know about that, I honestly have no idea. But perhaps it’s all these ideas I have inside me that are generating the emotions, so much so that I can write them down in lyrics.

In a way, these songs are a part of what I’m feeling at that moment when I sit down and pen them. Just because I don’t spend hours labouring over the lyrics doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. I do, it’s just that I’ve learned to sort them out quickly.

So this is the latest one, inspired by Celine and the 1990’s.

Enjoy.

It’s called (This Is The Way) Love Works.

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Friday night, curled up in bed at 11pm, reading Sex And The City. Who needs dates when you have one that doesn’t judge you?

So I spent three hours in the sick bay of Pasir Ris Medical Centre today.

Hooked up to a drip, and definitely in no position to sleep.

Spent it all looking at the ceiling.

And when it was all over, rushed back to the office and did an hour of overtime because I had to.

My life is awesome.

I’m not quite sure why I even wanted to set up this account.

Part of me misses blogging. It’s the only way I could practise my writing skills and not have to rack my brains to come up with topics, since it would generally be just mundane topics from the day’s happenings.

But blogging for me is pretty stressful as well, because I must - and I have to - get all my grammar and punctuation in place. I can’t stand people who write incoherent sentences or use (maybe, in some cases, absolutely forget to use) punctuation in strange ways.

Like adding multiple exclamation marks behind a sentence. Or writing in long paragraphs with no semblance of any coherence and lacking punctuation that should have at least been tossed in at some point or other and making it ridiculously hard to read.

Yes, I hope you got that.

Neither do I like people who forget that there are things such as capital letters (of course, used sparingly, and not blatantly spread across entire paragraphs). Or those who seem to have forgotten their spelling (for the record, any decent computer will show you when you’ve mistyped something. Usually, it’s a squiggly red line. Please observe).

But besides all that, I think the reason why I started this is simply because I felt a need to.

Facebook and Twitter have pretty much eaten up my time - that time being whatever’s left over from my time in camp. But exciting as they are, I cannot help but feel that they limit me in what I want to say.

Facebook allows for posts of up to 420 characters; Twitter, 140. 

Is that enough to suffice? Is that what we must compress our lives into, 420 characters? I didn’t think so, and hence, my presence back on the blogging scene.

But I wonder exactly how interesting this is going to be, because I’m not the best example of an exciting person.

It remains to be seen whether I can sustain this .  

I’m twenty-one, as of two days ago.

I held a party, the obligatory 21st birthday party, and I called it ‘The Memoirs & The Emancipation of KLVN’.

And I think that the title of my event held a lot of significance for myself, because it was not just a shameless rip off from Mariah albums.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering where I stood, wondering where I fit into the puzzle of this world. Everything didn’t quite click until I just realised, maybe I’m just not meant to fit in anyway.

You know that 1,000-piece puzzle that you’ve already fit in 999 pieces - and then when you look in the box, you realise the last piece isn’t the one you want, because it just won’t fit into the puzzle?

That’s me.