Nostalgia

Today I did a major overhaul of my whole room, involving 2 huge trashbags. I'm sentimental, so it was with great difficulty that I managed to chuck out the wonderful 90's:

My motorola pager, which for reasons I forget arrived unacceptably pink and thus hastily painted dark shiny blue with a sister's nail polish, then subsequently flashed around school like the epitome of teenage cool.

The CD player in its mouldy casing I'd loop into one ear and the other of a friend at the back of Chemistry lectures, Fumbling Towards Ecstacy with Sarah McLachlan, Faye Wong, Counting Crows.

The file of the week-long residential Pre-U Seminar I attended in my dark blue school blazer about Singapore's Tomorrow, with enclosed newspaper clippings dated August, 1997. Within the pages my own hesitant handwriting, doodles, lyrics, secret notes.

Letters. Written in colourful ink. I remember all the names. Now I guess there's no need for all this, with ipods, 3G's, friendster, msn. Blogspot.

Shit, I've finally reached the age where I find myself in a world that has actually changed. The trashbags lie on the sidewalk; tomorrow they will be thrown onto a truck, like so many casualties of the past.