Sunday, August 22, 2010

Okay, this has got to be the worse birthday ever. For the first time in 23 years I am actually sick on my birthday. So there isn't the usual grand, extravagant, over-indulgent hotel buffet. No stuffing my face, no singing happy birthday on a nice big cake cos I can't eat much (and can't taste much). The day was spent at home. A large part of it, on the couch, with a tissue plastered permanently to the face and staring into space. Drinking water every 2-3 minutes. My most frequent activity was going to the toilet.

Thank goodness though, for online streaming and the Real L Wo rd. It's been keeping me entertained throughout the blight of snot. But it still sucks that I missed yesterday's party, held for the august babies and at someone's uber house. I really REAALLLY wanted to be present. But ah wells. This is like the third time I have missed the chance to visit 'The House' that we always talk about. Doesn't seem like I'm fated to check it out heh?

Anyways, strangely I am getting my wish to watch the concert bands I really liked. Turns out the class that clashes with the concert will be dropped. By me actually. I went to the class, saw the amount of work involved, measured it against my need for time and want to play softball and all other more important life-things and for the first time ever in SM U, I decided to change modules. Never had to do that before. So now I've grandly missed the first week of class for my substitute mod, but I think I'll live. Haha. I'm not too concerned about what works and what doesn't anymore. It's more of, yeah I won't perish and these things will pass. Okay so there, no need to sweat the small stuff.

The big stuff however, has me sweating heaps as usual.


I need a few miracles.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

The YOG is surprisingly quite a draw for me. I've been glued to the TV, trying to catch the popular sports like gymnastics, athletics, and hopefully also a glimpse of some hot tennis player. (Yeah we all know which one, the one whose photo has appeared in our local papers almost three times already. She had me at the first photo, haha)

They also have this daily concert thingy going on at the Marina Bay area. There are some really cool bands which I would kill to check out. Okay, maybe not kill. Heck, I'm not even going to skip class for them. But darns, it's such a pity knowing that my classes are going to clash with the concert schedules. I'm aching for some good live music after BSS at the esplanade. Today I actually went there after a party, just to check it out since I was in the area. The atmosphere is really nice and sort of intimate because there weren't many people around. I had an empty row all to myself. And the music was oddly pensive, and at times very instrumental (I like, very BSS-ish). It isn't often that we have huge and free and 'un-crowded' live music concerts in Singapore. Just wish I could actually make it for the bands I really really want to check out. Ah wells.

School has begun. I feel so detached and so alienated from it. The first day was rather nerve-wrecking. I actually felt my heart rate increasing as I neared school. It's as though I've forgotten what school is like and now I have to get back into the school-mode, which I don't seem to remember or understand. And now we got to do things in class like speak up for imaginary points? At work, we speak up when there are real problems real issues. Everything seems so... fake now. Everyone is a blur. I don't recognise most of the faces I see in school. But the clothes, yeah I recognise them alright. The SM U look, yeah I recognised it alright. Cookie-cutter, put an AC JC student in orchard road clothes and there, you've got the SM U look. Everybody is body/looks confident. Everybody knows how to look good. That's what our school is known for, right? Sometimes I wonder what I'm still doing here. In school. When all my fellow year-mates have graduated and are out working. Most of them in jobs I don't think they really enjoy. Well, of cos that's an assumption. But all I see are the big names, and the big name was the reason they applied for anyway. Ain't that true?

I've thought about doing the same, but then I'm not sure if the big names are going to give me satisfaction. I couldn't work in a big bank, doing the same daily grind, day in day out. Doing the same task day after day. I've been seriously thinking about going back to my old company (if they want me). I really liked what I did there. I like the feel of being in control of a big project. Plus if your CEO inspires such loyalty from your upper management bosses, that must count for something no? I guess I could do this for a living. Other corporate stuff doesn't hold much appeal.

What now, life? "On the crest of uncertainty..." But career will work out, as it would for everyone. We might muddle our way at first, but do the right thing one day. I don't know, I hope so. In the grander scheme of things however, there are greater uncertainties. I haven't gotten my big break and I don't see it coming. Still, time flies on and we erode. It gives me pause to realise that my prime is wasting away. Youth is fleeting, dying away. I once wrote a Toastmaster's speech on aging, that our youth is the one thing that we should cherish the most, because we keep losing it the moment we're born. It's the one thing you keep losing. And you can't ever get it back. My boss says I sometimes look like a 16 year old girl to her, especially when I'm in a dress. Maybe it's the way my body fights the loss of youth. Denial. Or maybe I'm just short. Okay fine, I'm short.

But I find myself growing older, a little. Actually, being 'pushed' into 'older', yes 'push' is a more appropriate word to emphasis the reluctance. I know that once a time has past, you cannot revisit it, you cannot undo the things you've done, you can't do the things you wished you had done then. You can't go back. And as I step into another doorway of the future, knowing full well that I'm leaving this youth behind with things undone. It pains me, in a way.

But history is unchangeable no? My history's already written. We can't lament our have-nots. It's done. Past is past, and knowing how this history has a knack of haunting you through words, thoughts, feelings, just accept that it'll be there. That this is your normal. And even the thoughts, those are also part of your normal.

Yeap, hands in pockets. That uncertain look. Questions blazing in my eyes, rhetorical ones. Hopefully someone has a genuine answer to them one day.

Monday, August 16, 2010

I'm definitely getting that book.

Words trigger so many frustrations. It's just scribbles upon a page, yet seeing them can bring upon images. Unwanted, un-invited. You know where those triggers come from, you know the source and you know that this is how you react. It's good to know that I can actually just observe myself reacting. Makes things easier that way.

Life is awaiting. This computer game ain't lasting forever. And you know before you die, your important task must be pursued endlessly. Because it's what counts for 'happiness'. So rack up those kills, chalk up your experience points. Go save (take a deep breath), die (hurt) and reload (pick yourself up) again. And again. How can you get the dragon's loot if you don't kill it first? And yes your wounds would be a plenty, your stamina/mana all used up, your adventuring party a little worse for wear. But the loot's worth it right? Finding out what the loot is, is half the fun. Getting the loot was the only point of my game anyway.

And so I've stumbled into a few 'morally' questionable scenarios. Put myself foolishly in harm's way. Somehow I mananged to sneak out and under, safe and unhurt. But I won't always be this lucky. Ah, I know that. It doesn't change how I'll pounce on the next encounter again. Because it's all about the loot. Right?

I could think like this --- and live like this. Suddenly the black doesn't seem so bad at all. Vilified and demonised, one used to think that the black is meant to be fought, cleansed, purged until you get pure white. Blank. But your black is a part of you, a stain of history, the harbinger of thoughts and feelings you know you'll never control and will forever assail you. This black, it's just a part. One in a sum of so many other parts. Although still a crucial, pivotal and deeply important part. But better to carry your cross than to run away from it.

Yes, it's still there. Let's not lie, pretend anymore. It's there alright. But you know what? It'll be okay.