I wouldn't mind a new template, address or host of this site to fulfil the recalcitrant longings for change, improvement, and if you're in Singapore, 'upgrading'. Something whiter, with black font? Sometimes I wonder if the current template's verging on the unreadable and convoluted. Too black la, sometimes. So any suggestions? Thankew.
Anyway, speaking of change, it's an old, somewhat cliched adage, but it seems like the only thing that has been constant in my life thus far is my desire to zhng it. It's a potent and heady mix, ambition, contentment, regret, satisfaction, fulfilment, pride, resignation, acceptance and how to balance all of them in the right degrees as you live out your life.
And as I approach the big one-eight (with the big two-one, three o, four o, five o etc to go), I just wanna live, you know, with a shirt that says I went through IB and all I got was these 42 points. You know, I wanna prove to myself that it's not too late, that I can turn this thing around, although the niggling worry that yeah you've missed the last train punk starts to snowball this time of year.
It's agonizing, but maybe not as agonizing as how the Arsenal Fulham match is going now. My gosh, so many wasted chances, whatifs and whatcouldhavebeens.
hahaha sounds familar. But its' ok, 10 mins/1 mth more. Singlish puts it so succinctly.
Can one la.
The line 'I'm contemplating, thinking 'bout thinking' is poetry I tell you, something that wouldn't be outta place in a Wachowski brothers limerick. Very dip stuf. I'm a little, fine I lied more than a little happier than I was yesterday. Maybe it's coz I got everything out of the system and experienced exceedingly high amounts of catharsis over the span of 20 hours, or something like that, but I guess I don't feel that much of a wastrel anymore.
Nah actually it was the 4 math worksheets done today (Go on, COUNT em.) Nothing to take away your problems like some mind busting, knee jerking good ol' mecks to kick start your heart. Anything higher than SL level might have adverse side effects though..
Tomorrow's National Day. A little scrunched up plastic flag peeks out from the edge of my bedside table, next to some postcards, notes, little flowery gifts (!) and other paraphernalia. I'm proud to be Singaporean. Really, no matter how much I kpkb, I've come to realize that this is...home...truly, where I know I must be. where my- hmm maybe not. But yeah, can't leave this place man. Haha.
Anyhow It has always peeved me when foreignerse go konichiwa or nihaoma to Singaporeans overseas., squinting their eyes till they see you in a discernibly, or till their eyes are the same size as yours. I never kena before, but my cousins who migrated to Long Island years ago did, and lived to tell the tale. Also, I love how asking questions in an American accent belies a sense of wonder and curiosity unlike any other tongue in the world. Put those two together, intentionally curious and ignorant Americans, and probably unintentionally curious and ignorant accents, and boom you get Discovery Travel and Living's 5 Takes and World Cafe Asia, or more specifically, their episodes featuring Sing ger poor.
'Oh My God, you suck the marrow out of the bone?'
'Well this national dish, the roti prata, is accompanied by an Indian Curry! It has a tomato base, with spices such as corriander, star aniseed and yes, it packs a real kick.'
' As I followed the boy into the temple, I could feeeel the energy, the sacredness, of the place. It was so inspiring, to come to South East Asia, to experience the culture, and to take it away with me. '
Well all I can say to that is...
Please forgive me as I engage in a little bit of stream of consciousness. I'm not gonna press backspace, and we'll see how it goes. Aiyah don't even know why i'm hyping this up, its not like there'
s a reason why whatever I'm writing here will remotely interest people, if there are people lurking or reading this in passing at all. It's like I'm not even interested in this anymore. It's like I think, ooh let's blog about something, or hey inspiration I have got to write it down, and abruptly it all goes to waste and I feel empty, and for lack of better vocabulary, desolate.
I refresh this page and I see nothing. Nothing noteworthy, nothing exciting, nothing that is well alive. I look at my life and I am not surprised to experience the same. I'm hardly interested in myself no more.
I don't know, in my immediate future what the hell I'm living for. I relish these next three months. I'm supposed to attack the books, the worksheets, the worsks with the menace and venom of a global citizen with 45 emblazoned on my chest. I don't feel that way though. I find my life, well pathethic.
I don't know why I'm so unhappy. I have so many things, and people to be thankful for. I've got God watching my back too, and how can you complain when you've got Him on your side?
But now, in front of my computer, with hollow eyes I see that I have nothing good going for me, or rather, I haven't made in good in anything. I feel so inept, inadequte, helpless and it's like I'm fumbling, groping and stumbling over in the dark. And I'm typing this with lead coursing through my veins. It's so pathethic, feeble, and hopelessly bleak, it's funny.
Am I emo? hahahahaha. What a stupid term. Hell yea I'm emo. I feel lost and directionless. Do I even have to state or ask if you mind my state of mind?
I haven't written on this site for a long time (less than a month or so?) because I feel that people shouldn't have to listen to me saying how I have nothing to say. Also I feel like the quill has torn, the nib has smashed and all good writing sensibility has been sundered as my vocabulary detirorates and I feel hopelesly inferior to those who get 23/24 upon 25 for lit (no offence btw, all of you are gdlke.) But the shit has hit the fan, to put it rather politely. Dudes, Buay tahan la. I'm having those outta body experiences, ya know the ones where you look from a far, and you feel you're not getting anything outta this body, or mind, and soul, while we're at it.
I feel inept with regards to work and school, two things which I know are my priorities and my raisons d'etre .. School's passing by in a flash, and I'm saying it'll all be better eventually. I'll get my desired points, and yes, it'll all be fluffy and right. But time's running out. I've got enough kicks in the groin to tell me to start now. But it's so difficult, My academic prospects seem pointless now. As in literally pointless. I can get into the staid tirades about how I don't have mugging practice from Olvls, how I've been really busy, etc etc but nahhh, I know the IB gods have cast me away from their gaze and I'm just a lowlife low point slacker in their eyes. But I repent!!Really...I'll start tommorow.
And then there's army. I've been running away from this for so long (ah hah the irony). Running that is. People tell me, ah it's ok if you go in early. You've got no time to train now what. You'll get fit faster and BMT will be much easier etc etc. But I want 4 months. To live. I wanna go Cambodia after prom, not Tekong. I wanna apply for an internship at SPH, so I can get a taste of my dream life as a journalist. I wanna act again, or do something in the media which the good people at Mediacorp said I can do after my exams. I don't dread army, but I don't wanna be in there before I have to you know. There's so many things I wanna do, so many people I wanna meet, and I'm truly afraid that I'll miss out, like the kid who waited a whole year for the party of the lifetime and marked the wrong date of his calendar or overslept. I can still train and take my napfa again. Hell I didn't even complete it the first time, because 'I'll train in the june hols so I can take all the stations at once' and look where Mr Fit is now. And I don't know if I should start now, because I'm weary, not from 20 pull ups but the amount of false hope I've shoved down my throat. Also, I have to concentrate on studying. So where got time to train pull ups. Ah whatever, I've run more excuses than treadmills in my time. What's the use.
Finally there's that small little thing called the heart, that beats so profoundly, achingly, and stupidly that I've ran out of adjectives to describe it already. This merits a whole new post, but ah I don't need to go into specifics. Let's just say that I know too much, and too little to express my feelings. After all, what can a soon to be 18 year old say about love and loss? half soppy grin ,half abject sigh.
That reminds me, I'm 18 in a week and am tired, wasted. How can? Thank you for for reading so much of this drivel up till now by the way, and I guess I'll end here. Anyhow the Zest is gone, to quote Anna Karenina. I needa find it again. Hopefully 17 showers bring 18 flowers, as well as more consistent writing, to massacre a perfectly fine and encouraging anecdote.
Everything's been normal.As seen above. Nothing to worry about and I'll write something substantial soon.