Tuesday, July 12, 2011
today, winter came. It had been looming for some time now but I came face to face with it today. okay I confess, winter was face to face with me all the time but today I had to finally awaken from this slumber.
It was paralysing. The winter made me want to lie motionless wherever I went. But work. Work today was a miraculous anesthesia, especially when it was my last day of work. The parting emotions of a last day at a meaningful experience helped. There, for a few hours in the cheery company of colleagues and exchanging words of gratitude, was some make-believe that the winter could be subdued. But, a foldable umbrella in a torrential storm, the umbrella cannot hold. Of course you might say too that the storm passes, but I am talking as I sit within the winter storm now.
is it useful to understand how winter arises? I think winter requires no explanation. Winter is akin to the consumption of poison - a natural beckoning for which parties are blameless and there is no need to question. Nobody needs to ask why the abused child sees vengeance, why people consume drugs, why we walk into the seemingly complicated.
I reread an old thought of mine, where I asked with some foresight, "what shall I fill into this gaping hole". Not endeavouring any answer, I think the predicted arrival of the winter today shows me the facet of me that welcomes and actively seeks out some pain.
This is merely an observation. Not a theory of anything. Yet curiously, I picture myself at the start again. It is a shady December. The dust tracks are lined with naysayers. I can't hear them clearly I think but the body language is unfriendly. Again, I ambled into the winter.
3:10 AM
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
If so, what shall I fill into this awkward gaping clothed hole.
11:11 PM
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Ocassionally I like to think of myself as unique and weird. But really, everyone is unique and weird when they are not too busy conforming and being unwilling to admit just how much they love to be alone.
12:29 AM
Sunday, January 09, 2011
might be rebelling against myself.
1:12 AM
Friday, October 01, 2010
Hexagonal tables are fun. IP was about hexagonal tables and having various tablemates. Before I continue I might as well inform that this will be nostalgic because life is not so good. When life is not good, people become nostalgic. It's a natural escape.
I am really living in my own world and I manage not to be affected by people's problems very much. That must make me such a cold person. But I certainly was a happier and nicer soul in my IP days. Not that life was such a breeze - we had so much work and the bulk of it was project work and knowing myself, two things happen - either I do so much work because I can't accept anything less or I don't get emotionally involved at all. Things are so much simpler when we all work alone without the complications of one another's feelings. I must be weird to feel for inanimate things like projects and studies but not for people and friends.
But back to tables, it is so nice to have these tables because I think those gave me surprises like grace su, thea and may. I never liked grace su and I always thought some people you will never befriend although some part of you wants to get to know them no matter how you find excuses like, "they're too loud" or "she's not my type" but I think we are really scared that the other person does not want to be your friend. So imagine my surprise at finding a friend in her, no doubt one left with some unfinished matters like going to her house or being taller than her. But I am a good loanshark. I always am. So these surprises are few and far between because I am always better off in my own space. Many things have led me to think that i'm a hermit. I am so convinced now that I am not suited to be in any romantic relationships. I must be a horrible girlfriend. But I say this not in self-pity or a lack of self-confidence. I say this because of things that happen which just show me to myself quite clearly. People ask if I'm ok. I realise that it is a prerogative and expectation that people walking out of something should feel not ok. But why should I feel derailed? Because I honestly don't and could that in itself be such evidence that there was something fundamentally wrong with the relationship that started out? I must be such a myself person. So now two options are available to me: Either I must give up some of my space which I so dreadfully guard right now, or I content myself with being a spinster (but in this case i'm so set on being an enviable spinster).
Life is quite dreadful and not easy to comprehend. Some people never get it their whole lives. I am balanced nonetheless, with the promise of life but that changes nothing about the present. And I love to study. Honestly even though law is tough, I feel happy to know there's something to read and study. Being a student is fulfilling.
7:01 PM
Monday, May 24, 2010
I promise to be alive.
I have been judging others for a long time, sometimes keeping my opinions to myself and at other times broadcasting and attempting to achieve imperialism of my opinion. I will avoid the question of who I am to judge others because who am I, in all honesty, to judge? Rather I want to come to terms with my guilt. It is a venus trap that I grew into as a result of my environment and it is a terrible, symbiotic relationship today that I have with this venus trap. For a long while, it has been too easy to forget that I am nurturing a silly weed in me since at every turn and dilemma where I contemplate the purity of dreams and emotions, some material achievement will ask me to turn away from my more humane pursuits that have very little to show for where my environment is concerned. Little by little everyday, I give in, my hunger for such achievement, as with the size of the venus trap, grows and I am thoroughly consumed.
And so I build my life. My life is a nasty, short and brutish one of 19 years plus I live here hence the material achievements are mainly academic. I should give myself a pat on the back as I have done well as far as you could perceive, and will probably continue in a trend as my venus trap and I become better and more resembling mirrors for each other. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this model and I estimate it is self-sufficient in the endless cycle of dilemma-achievement and I can live my life like this. If not for Guilt.
I am guilty of not being alive. This, I want to distinguish from "having a life". It is too easy to have a life. I need only be accommodating, have a wide social circle, have fun at parties and bars and take numerous pictures to upload onto Facebook. I have my life and better still, the results to show for my efforts to quash the bitter accusation that my life is controlled in a Venus trap or that I am a Nerd. So I can certainly go forth to produce these results and when the dissent about how I live is silenced, I once again have the all important achievement. My guilt stems from the people who killed the Venus Flytrap. These people are in complete disregard of who I am, what I have achieved or what I will continue to achieve because they are more concerned with being alive. They overlook all that I am and for this I hate them but a part that is not yet consumed respects them. They may be penniless, volunteering in Africa, forsaking a higher education and pursuing something very useless such as a dream in helping others but I hate to admit how deep this respect goes, and therefore the guilt that it awakens in me. The guilt at nurturing the venus trap, meeting expectations, settling into the average and peeling my eyes for the next milestone around the corner to enable my record to be in full view of others (not the people who made me guilty, but others.) at all those opportunities instead of having a go at being alive.
I am very guilty. Perhaps too much so to turn around because what would this make of the parts of my body that had been eaten, synchronised and romanced into the Venus Flytrap? Hence I conceal my smallness with all that I am but even then, I know I cannot fool those people who made me blameworthy.
Re-examined, life is perhaps about chemicals, DNA and neurons except that we could be a little proud to agree. However, I want to look at my guilt under a microscope as frequently as possible, and at those people who made me feel so. In this, I will then try to construct something a little more trustworthy for myself from these chemicals, DNA and neurons in an effort to nurture something else.
5:23 AM
Sunday, January 10, 2010
So now we have the epigenome. The whole world is moving beneath my feet and I have to get moving too. It's ironic that when I have finally earned my freedom from studying, I want to plunge into a hectic worklife and renew the whole experience of sleep deprivation, stress, meeting targets and having no life.
Extremely disappointed with several things. I ought to take a more mature stance on all these things that I clearly have a choice in. The concept of taking responsibility is just growing up, which already began with the expiry of my ezlink concession privileges. Growing up will take much acclimatising. At the moment it's the flurry of decisions and more decisions. Universities, career path, temp job and a bond or no bond? See I think it's so much easier to just study and I didn't know how easy I had it then. I can see quite evidently now that I have to decide my own life but at 18 I haven't seen very far, at best 10 years down and if I want to be too cautious I should have a few more plans if the rest fail.
So why is my beautiful world so well hidden. Eh.
4:50 AM
What is the significance of writing?
Do we all have a moral responsibility to write- we consume the literary genius of other writers and with this receipt of what others worked to create, do we have the responsibility to pay if forward, by synthesising from various works with a dash of my two cents worth?
Writing can be immensely disappointing and it's like suffering from constipation. You don't seem to express yourself with the right words or the expression is only partial. It's irritating while a writer is on the task and at moments like these the advice would usually to await a stronger surge from nature that can inspire the writer to write gratifyingly and completely.
Thanks to numerous priorities that superseded my need to write, I wrote scantly. The A levels, CCAs and just staying alive. For one who is not a professional writer, and whose works are not meant to be shared in the first place, clearly, writing is not important for staying alive. And if it is about reflection and consolidation, which is why many people maintain a diary, is thinking, i.e. resurrecting the memories, reinforcing the lessons and reliving the emotions in your head a poor substitute? Does replacing writing with thinking make me any more vacant emotionally?
Once I was crazy about writing, I was insanely in love with language that I thought I would study the language in university but I realise it is a love I can put down, forget in the face of things like study, work, friends and play. Or at least I thought I could. I snigger at the feeble attempts to earn attention with garish photos, needless details about some super interesting and happening lives and the updated lists of newest couples and breakups. These made writing so easy to put down but once in a long while I stumble upon an entry that makes some cells dance. Slowly, many cells dance and awake the closeted passion I once had, channeling this energy to my fingers and head to write again in the hope that someone, a reader from the land of serendipity will also begin to dance in the cells too.
4:19 AM
