The hubby brought up an Andy Lau CD I never knew he has. Then he played it on our stereo system.
The melancholic melody - trademarks of Chinese songs that is familiar to my ears - started to fill up the room.
I used to hate Chinese songs very much (I still do for some songs) however with the lack of great songs on the radio lately, I welcomed this odd sounds to my ear. After all, it's Andy Lau's - supposedly the Sinatra of HK music scene.
It is a strange nostalgic sound that reminds me of childhood days back in Jakarta, going to the Gloria building accompanying my mom, passing through street vendors that sells illegal Chinese cassettes.
I remember we went there to eat. The food I don't remember. But the blasting music raping my ears with unfamiliar language, that I remember. I hate that sounds. I hate not knowing what the singers talking about. I hate how they all sounded so damn sad.
Hubby was raised in predominantly Chinese culture - yet he rarely shows this side of him. I was very comfortable with Western & Indonesian culture. Only recently, since my friends here are quite comfortable with Chinese culture, I started to care a little bit.
a0z0ra @ 1:00 AM  |
All these things, all these works that I've been doing to earn my monthly dues, is nothing dear to my heart. It is just something that I can do and I am doing it good enough.
But there's those things, the sweet temptations from the other sides that just refuse to unbind me. The allure and glamor of presenting stories, of grabbing the attention of the masses, entertain and influence them - subtly.
I'm restless as my heart is arguing back and forth - the continuous argument between a basic animal rights of safe comfortable life against a mad, unknown, uncontrollable passion for the arts of storytelling.It is a dream that I would not let go.
The heart whispered to me late in the night.
I closed my eyes and let the night swept away the lingering hope - so it won't leave any trace for the morning sun.
Labels: dream, personal
a0z0ra @ 1:18 AM  |