loser dog

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The answer might vary with people but ultimately the answers always appear to be white collar, glamorous jobs like say, actor singer doctor lawyer, etc. Who wants to be a roadside cleaner? Not me. Who wants to be a waitress? Not me. And thus the seeds of expectations are sowed in us from a young, tender age.

But people like me always fall short of expectations, be they expectations of others or expectations of self. People like me, the mediocre ones, hover on the line between winner and loser, Thus we seek to distinguish ourselves, set ourselves up to be judged but in the end, we are never as good as Them. Them being the winner dogs. The beautiful ones, the clever ones, the ones that everyone wants to be but can never be because we're not tall enough not pretty enough not slim enough not photogenic enough, and the list goes on. Expectations expectations.

Take me for example. Having harboured from young dreams of being a glamorous singer, I auditioned for School Superstar, hoping to get a shot at stardom. But of course I failed. Before I went for it, people who heard me sing had said, "Hey, you sing quite well." "Hey you're quite pretty" And even after I came down stage after my defeat, people said "You were good, but too bad the judges were too stringent." Then it dawned on me... Singing well does not equate singing splendidly. Being pretty does not mean one is beautiful. And being good does not mean being excellent. Its all a matter of degree really.

But why do we still keep on trying? Why do we doggedly chase for that elusive acknowledgement that we are a cut above the rest? Why despite the many failures before? All because of that persistent tinge of hope, of dreams dreamt from young. Of glory and honour, of fame and popularity. Of being accepted instead of rejected. Such is the power of the dream. The loser dog can never give up because of that one brilliant dream, that calls out to it, telling it "You could be the Winner Dog if you tried hard enough, you know." Despite knowing that winners always number in the minority.


Oh well. There's always Singapore Idol next year.

Up next, here's an ode to the winner dog of my dreams.

Song Hae Gyo of beauty nonpareil
Queen of Korean soap dramas
She tears and we weep
She smiles; the heavens sigh
Hae Gyo can turn gay men straight
With her picturesque face
The tinkle in her eyes
We can't escape
Immortalised in frames
A painting in motion
Oh Hae Gyo!

Fallen into the
Trap of the Rat Race
Paper Chase
Bits of cheese
Serve as rewards
Dangled from a height
If we jump high enough
While the Feast sits
Out of sight and laughs

took a four hour nap today and woke up at dusk, thinking it was dawn. blue tinge to everything, as if the air was rarified somewhat. some people say in the purest of whites lies a tinge of blue. lay in bed waiting for the sun to rise. but then, dawn was really dusk and it could only get darker.　there's something about the twilight that puts things in perspective.

人に自分らしく生きてくださいって言われるけど本当の自分らしさは何でしょうか。