Friday, July 04, 2008
You're way too cool for me
I touch my piano about once a year. This year my grandma is staying with me in Singapore, and she likes listening to me play the piano. The only scores I can find are my final fantasy ones; and as they all sound pretty floaty/ etheral, I find that I can fool a lot of people as to how good I actually am (not very) if I can just get the tumbling arpeggios just so.
But after a while, even the oldest, greyest person gets sick of 'Balamb Garden' and 'To Zanarkand', so I went digging around in the store room under the stairs for my other piano scores. I didn't find them, just my secondary school books. And while I was standing there marvelling at the sheer volume of paper that was used for just history alone (do you remember that light blue file with the diagonal etchings in the plastic material? L1, L2, L3, L4, L5), out tumbling came these pieces of paper. They had poems written on it. Specifically, angsty, angry, desperate poems only a 16-year old could write. I had to laugh when I read them. Now I know why I'm not much of a poet. If you classify these as poetry, Yeats would be spinning in his grave.
Why, here's an excerpt:
You were too cool for me.
Everything that you did -
As plain as daylight, for all to see
was way too cool for me.
You knew the latest fashions,
Wore hipsters and tight tees
Chose punk rock as your passion
Had boys over for jamming sessions.
Your phone was of a spunky kind
That had a canera rolled in it
With boggling functions that could blow your mind -
And mine? As chunky and unfunky as my behind.
The way you spoke was like "totally awesome!"
Interspersed with cool phrases
The way I spoke - too prim! Too proper!
No "chumps", "chumpettes!", "awesome!"
Or anything like that.
Your ambitions were a whole lot cooler
You wanted a radical boutique
All I ever wanted was to have
A regular job - yup - a nine-to-fiver
Your grades were in the funky range
of boderline fail to pass
While mine were in the geek-nerd zone
Just because I rarely came in last
You always were so popular
You had tons of friends
While I - already so friendless
Had a wilting social life.
You went 'tanning' every week
decked out in cool gear
While the only times I went out were
to buy groceries in my slippers
No doubt you'll be more successful
With a fuller life to boot
Cos it's plain as daylight, for all to see
That you're way too cool for me.
------
I could say that it doesn't refer to a specific person but those who know me well can instantly see through that.
My grades are edging towards boderline pass and fail - can I be considered cool now? Please??
But after a while, even the oldest, greyest person gets sick of 'Balamb Garden' and 'To Zanarkand', so I went digging around in the store room under the stairs for my other piano scores. I didn't find them, just my secondary school books. And while I was standing there marvelling at the sheer volume of paper that was used for just history alone (do you remember that light blue file with the diagonal etchings in the plastic material? L1, L2, L3, L4, L5), out tumbling came these pieces of paper. They had poems written on it. Specifically, angsty, angry, desperate poems only a 16-year old could write. I had to laugh when I read them. Now I know why I'm not much of a poet. If you classify these as poetry, Yeats would be spinning in his grave.
Why, here's an excerpt:
You were too cool for me.
Everything that you did -
As plain as daylight, for all to see
was way too cool for me.
You knew the latest fashions,
Wore hipsters and tight tees
Chose punk rock as your passion
Had boys over for jamming sessions.
Your phone was of a spunky kind
That had a canera rolled in it
With boggling functions that could blow your mind -
And mine? As chunky and unfunky as my behind.
The way you spoke was like "totally awesome!"
Interspersed with cool phrases
The way I spoke - too prim! Too proper!
No "chumps", "chumpettes!", "awesome!"
Or anything like that.
Your ambitions were a whole lot cooler
You wanted a radical boutique
All I ever wanted was to have
A regular job - yup - a nine-to-fiver
Your grades were in the funky range
of boderline fail to pass
While mine were in the geek-nerd zone
Just because I rarely came in last
You always were so popular
You had tons of friends
While I - already so friendless
Had a wilting social life.
You went 'tanning' every week
decked out in cool gear
While the only times I went out were
to buy groceries in my slippers
No doubt you'll be more successful
With a fuller life to boot
Cos it's plain as daylight, for all to see
That you're way too cool for me.
------
I could say that it doesn't refer to a specific person but those who know me well can instantly see through that.
My grades are edging towards boderline pass and fail - can I be considered cool now? Please??
Labels: Friends, Piano, Poetry
# posted by me lah @ 11:38 am 
