And So It Is, The Shorter Story.

I woke up today singing those words in my head. And then I slept. When I woke up again this song was still playing in my mind. So the first thing I did upon leaving the warm sanctuary that is my bed was to go on youtube and listen to The Blower's Daughter. Simply amazing. I have no idea why or how this happened though, I haven't heard the song since watching Closer, which has got to be many many months ago now.

Maybe it was reading When We Were Orphans by Kazuo Ishiguro. Something about the understated emotions perhaps. Maybe not as good as Never Let Me Go, but life invariably sucks if you go around comparing stuff all the time, so let's not do that. It was nonetheless quite a good read. Japanese fiction writers are da best. I snapped up 1Q84 as soon as I saw it in the bookstore, and it ably accompanied me to Portsmouth and back :D

I'd slept only about an hour prior to leaving on the train (no thanks to an ill-conceived idea to start reading 1Q84 that very night) and barely slept on the train(s) for fear that I'd miss my stops. Mini-catnaps (kittenaps™ probably. so clever it deserves a trademark.) When I arrived I was like, meh, where is my hostel, where is the venue, I am so lostzomg. And wandered around aimlessly, thinking, this sux. Until I decided to eat breakfast. The wonders of a hot meal can never be overstated. Instantly rejuvenated, I struck out with vim and vigour and verve (the traditional v and v just doesn't cut it, I had something extra.) So travelling tip #1, always satisfy your poor tummy before making a judgment on wherever it is you are!

I must say I was expecting something of a dump, prior to actually going there. Maybe something to do with Portsmouth FC's prowess (or lack thereof), which I certainly realize is not a very good gauge at all of how nice a city should be. But I hadn't really heard anything nice at all about the place. Boy was I pleasantly surprised! Say what you want about cheap thrills, but lowered expectations work magik indeed.

Right on the seaside, historic naval base, home of Charles Dickens, long long strips of beaches, when all I expected was a squalid town of rubbish. Okay maybe not as bad as that. I was chatting with the owner of a bookshop and her friend though, and apparently Portsmouth is quite nasty afterall! Bike theft capital of the world (or so they say) and unfriendly people (which I think is somewhat true, through my limited experience with the locals). Well. Nothing you can't remedy with a tirp to the Rose Gardens!

I was just walking around, largely along the coast, for hours on end, had to be close to 8 hours probably. Along the way there was this girl (which self-respecting narrative would have no romantic figure?) whom I spoke to not at all. She was ambling about too, camera in hand, so I surmised she was a tourist travelling alone as well. I guess sometimes you just want to reach out to people whom you think are like you. People who share the same circumstances, people who'd understand. Well we pretty much walked together (by that I mean within 20m of each other, not that there was any agreement that we were walking together) for almost and hour maybe. And then I decided to walk another route in case she thought I was stalking her or something, I admittedly could have been a little creepy, if she were the mega-paranoid sort. Or maybe it was just because she looked like a character on House that I took special notice of her, haha.

And then I was hovering around the concert venue, scoping out the place a few hours before it was due to start, when I am 80% sure I saw The Naked And Famous walk past me and into the building. At first I was thinking, Asian girl with 3 angmohs? Not a very common sight. A few steps later I suddenly thought: zomg, is that TNAF IN THE FLESH?! I'm pretty sure it was, hehe. Starstruckz.

The opening act opened an hour late, so there was alot of lame sitting on your hands waiting. But I cleverly decided to stand right in front of the speakers, so as soon as the first note was struck I'd wake up 500%. I think they were called Post War Years, and they didn't disappoint, even factoring in the one hour wait. But then ofc we were all waiting for TNAF and when they came out we went WOOooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooo!!!!

I liked that they played the stuff from their EPs like Spies Spies Spies and Birds etc, instead of just everything from Passive Me Aggressive You. But the most awesome parts of the night was definitely shouting out just that, "PASSIVE ME AGGRESSIVE YOU" midway through All Of This, and the amazing Girls Like You. Sick stuff man. I bought a poster and I can't help grinning everything I look at it now (Y).

On the subject of posters, I bought 2 more from a sale in school. One was a map, because you can't have any pride as a mariner if you don't possess at least one, and the other was this amazing poster of the Eiffel Tower.

Nochoicebut2buy.

I thought it'd be the best reminder to start my travel planning/booking ever. I'm sure you agree, no?! I wake up to this picture everyday now, cause it's right by my bed. (Y) Makes waking up that much more bearable.

Anyhow, I thought I should add a bit about all the benches at Portsmouth. Each of them was dedicated to the memory of someone who'd passed away. And they'd have stuff like "This was his favourite spot." or "From Mom, to the many happy hours spent here together." on the little plaques. It was pretty heartbreaking to see, and strangely enough, a little uplifting as well. Sobering and uplifting, a strange a combo as any. Maybe it's something about the things people do to remember a loved one. The ability to mourn and grieve. The human spirit is not as far gone as many people like to think in this modern cynical desensitized world.

That, and reading When We Were Orphans made me realize how I could be so much better to my parents. When they think of me, do they think of the good stuff or does the bad outweigh all that? Have I given them cause to think fondly of me? When they look back, will they say that I have been worth their effort, and their tears? I hope so. But that's not the end of it, there's still time yet to set things right, hopefully an awful lot more time.

Can't wait to come across Remains of the Day. It isn't quite as fun to purchase stuff online, it's so much more awesome to hold the book in your hands in awe and happiness at a random bookshop you stumble into. I bought When We Were Orphans for 1 quid at the secondhand bookshop with the nice owner. I also bought The Princess Bride and Lord of the Flies (which I can't quite imagine how I have never read before.) I wanted to buy Battle Royale but the only copy the shop had was in a bad state.

So I'm gonna watch Never Let Me Go at long last, cause after watching Drive last week and reading Ishiguro this, I would really be letting myself down if I didn't watch it.

Anyway I have resolved to start working extra hard, on account of all the $$$$ I have spent over the past week. I didn't think I'd spend so much travelling, stupidly forgetting that when I was away I'd have to eat out every meal which really isn't cheap at all. And posters don't come free either. And books. I know I'm doing things in the wrongest way possible, most people indulge in retail therapy only upon the completion of schoolwork, while I chose to reward myself before doing anything at all! Can't be a very good plan, seeing as I haven't done anything of note since returning from Portsmouth hehe. And we all know how new year resolutions work out, or at least how mine do. They don't.

Okay, on that depressing note I end.

It's Not Make-Believe If You Believe.

Hi guys. I'm heading down to portsmouth in the wee hours of the morning tmr and I am quite excited!! The Naked And Famous rox my sox. I think I have to start revising their songs now! :D So I really should get to sleep early, but I think I might start on 1Q84 now. New Murakami book + TNAF, bezt dayz of my lifez.

Hehe I know TMI (too much information) but I am srsly letting rip some MASSIVE farts!! (Who can resist reminiscing the Beyblade "Let it rip!!!" series.) Must be that chicken tikka masala I made just now. Shocking stuff ey?! It wasn't all that difficult, since I bought the sauce all readymade, just had to prepare the chicken and tomatoes and onions (you get my drift, the drift of all the noxious smelly gas particles) which considering I'd never diced a chicken thigh before last week, is still quite the achievement!

And I had pan-fried mushrooms on bagel for lunch. Such posh-ness has got to be unnatural.. My flatmate took me out grocery shopping on saturday, hence all this amazing sounding food. I even made fish and chips one night. Never thought I'd ever feel so empowered in my life. Don't need a wife no more!! Hehe kidding.

I finished reading Inheritance, the last of the Eragon series yesterday. When I started it I was quite appalled at the style of writing, that bit recapping the going-ons of the previous books. Made me really conscious of the fact that he'd started writing the books at like 15 or sth (I cringed). But thankfully it got better after that and it was quite a good read after all. I really really want to read Robert Jordan again though! Too bad I left them all back home sigh.

I watched Drive the other night and throughout the movie I was just thinking: Carey Mulligan! I couldn't help myself really, which is probably the definition of obsession. Ryan Gosling was good as well though. It was a good movie, probably worth another watch some other time, although not at all what I expected of it. Shall watch Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy as well, but maybe I should go read the book first before I do. It's John le Carre after all.

Okay I shall stop here so that I can start reading my book and hopefully drift of to sleep early so I can wake at 5am zomgosh. Can you whisper? Run, whirlwind run. Passive me, aggressive you!

The Day They Took Our Hearts Away.

When I was a child I used to fall asleep against my father’s chest, the regular, rhythmic beat of what I thought was his heart lulling me to sleep. I thought it the most comforting sound in the whole world, and I would sleep soundly, knowing that I was safe and snug and secure. Now I’m terrified by the memory of that sound. It makes me sick.

The ceremony was to be performed tomorrow, and I was one of the five who would be subjected to it. They say it is to celebrate our coming-of-age, but I know better. I know what goes on in the House. Every year the girls and boys who’d seen 18 summers would enter that House and emerge as men and women, finally being part of the System.

The System ran everything around here. It created an ideal world. The System knew everything about everyone in it, and what it did was match stuff together. The men and women who were the most compatible were allocated to each other, producing maximum happiness and minimum domestic violence. Jobs were assigned to the people who were best suited to them, resulting in great efficiency and productivity. Those who were neither compatible nor capable were sent to sleep.

This was the fate for those disabled in accidents, or pets who had grown too old. Or those who had fallen too gravely ill, be it persons or pets. These were solutions to the mistakes of the past. In school we listened in horror as our teachers told us stories of how infectious diseases wiped out thousands upon thousands of people. This was mind-boggling stuff; we couldn’t grasp the concept of thousands of people living in close enough proximity to die of each other’s sicknesses, let alone allowing those infected to walk freely amongst them.

Our teachers told us about the enormous drain on resources old and disabled people represented. They told us what to do when (assuming we were lucky enough to be spared by disease and disability) our fiftieth summer came: enter the door at the back of the House and sleep. They liked to say that you only entered the House twice: Once at your “birth” (into adulthood that was) and once at your death. They sounded both like deaths to me.

“Jean, we can’t do this. We have to run away from this place!” Jean was the best and only friend I had. We had grown up and somehow managed to stick together despite our different backgrounds. My parents were doctors while her family ran the store. The System generally frowns upon people from different classes mingling with each other, but since we were merely children we were allowed to get away with it.

“I don’t know Henry. Where would we go? What would we do? We can’t just leave everything and everyone behind like that...” One day we had been out in the fields when we decided to take a break, and just lay down on the grass. I was busy trying to make out the shapes in the clouds when she put her head on my chest. I was startled and my mouth had suddenly turned curiously dry and my heart started thumping much too loudly, I was sure. I decided to keep silent and perfectly still, just in case the slightest movement would dislodge her. I became very conscious of my breathing and prayed I wouldn’t hyperventilate. I didn’t want to give myself away.

“Well… I don’t know. Away. That’s all that matters. Who is this ‘everyone ‘ you’re talking about anyway? Your family? What we have between us is… different, are you just gonna give it up like that?” After a few moments, she lifted her head with a quizzical look on her face. Oh damn it, I thought, I screwed up, I knew I would. Then she said “Your heartbeat, it’s different. It isn’t the same as my parents’.”

“What do you mean different? You always say that. I don’t know what you mean when you say that.” So I had to put my head on her chest, to determine if it was just me. It wasn’t. I cast my mind back to the memories of my father’s heartbeat. And then I knew. His had been too regular, its rhythm lacked humanity. It was mechanical.

“I… I don’t know.” When we were very young, we had this one day where we were to show our form teacher our appreciation for her. We were very excited about it and had made elaborate preparations for it. As the end of class approached, the cake was wheeled out and we leapt out of our seats and shouted “We love you Miss Fritz!” She recoiled as if struck a blow. She gaped for a bit and then decided anger was probably the best response. “Never say that word again. Never.” And there she stood, in her murderous rage while maintaining the stoniest of silences, until the bell rang.

“You don’t know? Hah. I don’t know what I was expecting of you, but it was definitely better than that. For all your grand notions you’re surprisingly empty. You’re just another scared kid.” We didn’t talk about it afterwards. We never did. All of us were so deeply shamed by the episode that it had become as much of a taboo as the word itself. It had scared and scarred us and we would never forget the lesson we learnt that day. And no matter how inadequate the words remaining in our vocabularies seemed we never could bring ourselves to say it again. It is funny how one forbidden word can create such a gaping hole in our ability to describe what we feel.

“Don’t do this, please. I’m scared, you’re scared. We’re all scared. But at least we have each other. We can face our fears together, everything will be alright. You have to trust me. I’ll see you by the fields at four in the morning. Don’t worry, okay?” She didn’t answer. I made my way home. The reality of my leaving this place forever didn’t set in until I started packing. It is weird to consider which of your possessions are necessary for survival. Necessary means one thing when you’re at home and your only worries are either about school or girls. It takes on a whole new meaning when you’re wondering how to survive the next few days, and more, out on your own where the things we hold dear, like money or fancy clothes, are worth nothing.

I was wracked with doubts all night. Would we be able to last more than a few days? Could we have a life outside of the place we had called home all our lives? Would we be happier than if we stayed? Would she be there?

I struggled to stay awake. It’s always the times when you desperately want not to sleep that it sneaks up on you and takes hold of you just like that. You’re asleep without even knowing it. So I paced around in the dark, making sure I was deadly quiet while doing so. I double and triple checked the contents of my bag. I looked around me to ensure I wouldn’t leave anything essential behind. In the throes of a restless night like this, it is a comfort to know that the relentless march of time never stops, no matter how slow it might seem to be creeping along. It’s still ticking away, draw strength from that.

And then it was time to leave. The night air seemed to have a sharp taste in my mouth. The glow of the streetlamps seemed to have an otherworldly tinge to it. There was a sort of desperate clarity to everything, as if my brain were highlighting what I was leaving behind in a last-ditch attempt to stop me.

“Henry.” My heart soared, the last flight it would ever take, though I didn’t know it yet. “I can’t do it. I can’t forsake everything I’ve got here to go on this wild adventure with you. This is ridiculous, it’s madness.” I think I had always known what her answer would be, although her appearance here, now, had given me something that was almost hope.

“Hah. And you called me scared? Look at you. Terrified of the unknown. Clinging on to the familiar just because that’s all you’ve ever known. You’re gonna let them rip your heart out just because you’re afraid. You... you’re just like the rest of them. You make me sick.” I turned away from her and stared into the field and tried to hold back my tears. I didn’t know how to be angry and cry at the same time.

“Let them rip my heart out? No, Henry, that’s what you just did.” And she walked away. I still didn’t turn around. I wanted very badly not to care, but I did. I wanted to turn around and chase after her and tell her not to go and that I wish we could be back on that field and feel her head resting against me again. I wanted to shout “I love you” at her departing figure but even then, even right at the end, I couldn’t.

I stood there, shaking in my futile anger. Anger at myself, at Jean, at the whole damned System. It felt like there was a lump at the back of my throat and it was like there was something with clammy hands holding my heart in its grip.

I swallowed to clear the constriction in my throat. I took a step forward. I stopped. I couldn’t do it. Not alone. I turned around and I started walking. To the House.

_________________________________________________

Okay that took me 2 whole long sittings to finish. I always wanted to write about people having their hearts removed so that they would no longer be able to love. I didn't know what form it'd take and I certainly didn't expect it to be like this, but I am quite happy with it! I started that first bit of dialogue today and by some magic inspiration decided to go with a sort of flashback kind of sequence, and I thought that worked out pretty well.

I think it's quite obvious the difference in styles from the first half and the second, the first bit looks pretty boring actually haha. If I had tried to finish it the first time around I'm sure it would have ended up alot worse than this. I'd have tried to squeeze in various explanations here and there, and it would probably have been mostly ill-fitting. This way, I got to dabble with a few other themes as well, which I like to do.

There's that little bit about class and social inequality. The System would never have allowed them to stay together. The liquid nature of necessity. The way our fear of the unknown makes us accept the mundane. The contrarian nature of sleep (hehe). How people say painful words they sometimes don't even mean, but never retract them nonetheless. How our fears stop us from saying the most important things. In the story it was fear of the System, in the form of the teacher. In real life it may be the fear of rejection, or maybe non-reciprocity.

I quite enjoyed writing this really. Especially the flashback bits where I tried to fit the memories with what was actually being said, like a jigsaw puzzle. A pleasing sort of symmetry, if only to me!

I don't know if Henry goes back to the House to go through with the operation or if he enters the back door to die. The best thing (I think) would have been for him to still runaway but I didn't think that was at all likely. The next best thing then would be for him to actually die rather than accept the operation, cause that's the worst death of all. A life dictated by a computer system. A life without passions or love.

The whole story is actually heavily inspired by a series called "The Tripods". The original idea about heart removal was my own but the setting and the coming-of-age ceremony etc. was pretty much stolen from the series. The names Henry, Fritz, and Jean(-Paul in the Tripods) are a tribute to the books. It's an amazing children/young persons series and I remember almost crying while reading the last scene with Henry hehe. That's why he gets to be the protagonist.

That episode with the teacher, however, I think has its roots in Never Let Me Go. Something about the oppressive environment of the school or sth.

One thing I regret with the story is that the House isn't quite as ominous as I wanted it to be. It's supposed to have a very dark feel and exert its influence a bit more, so that that last line would be much more effective. Oh wells. But I don't know how I'm supposed to do it and I'm not keen on reworking that whole first half just because I think it sucks compared to the second. If this was a movie then it could be this omnipresent feature in the background or sth eh? Can't word-ify that without being painfully obvious about it though, it has to be a subtle thing..

Anyhow. All in all a satisfactory literary experience for me, I hope it was that to you as well. Pretty long too, running into 4 pages of my Word document, my word! The word count trumps that of my essay by more than 2x (1635 vs 682) wts, so I reckon I need to be ALOT more hardworking doing my schoolwork hehe.

Time for a short nap (at 8.30 in the morning, yes) before dreaded school later. I think my body is very confused when I sleep any earlier than 1 or 2 in the morning, and thinks I'm just taking a nap instead. Slept at 9.30 and woke up at 2.30 sigh. Which means I've been awake for 6 hours and so a faux/pseudo-midday nap is definitely justified!

I'd ask for some feedback (cause I haven't felt quite so good about a story in a while) but I'm a little reluctant as well (cause I haven't felt quite so good about a story in a while, so what would that signify if I received negative ones!) so... wtv I'm off to sleep now!

The Happiness In Misery.

I had rugby training just now and I barely made it home. It was raining. The wind was blowing. I was vibrating. If you could combine receiving a call and a text msg and a whatsapp notification and BBM and twitter + fb update and and and ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Maybe it'd be what you get if you watch a palm tree lazily swaying in the strong tropical wind at 5000x acceleration. Brr brr teeth chatter brr brr legs shake brr brr.

At least when I was still in training I had something else to focus on, like unclenching my fists to catch the ball. It was on the way home that I started thinking: Oh my head I am absolutely miserable. I can barely feel my toes, my fingers are warped and stuck in the same positions, I have mud all over my body (and I realized later, on my face as well), I look like a hobo, and my hair looks like pangsai. That was the clincher man.

And I realized I was feeling very cheery about all that misery. What a paradox eh, I am such an exponent of puzzles and enigmas (maybe enigmae a la amoeba/e, think about it: Have you ever seen enigma's plural form??? A new mystery, that.) So I was thinking about it, by all accounts I should be feeling ratty and miserable, perhaps even on the verge of tears (I'm sure someone of a fainter heart/weaker constitution would have wept, it was that bad.) but there I was feeling all happy and cheerful and laughing to myself. I reckon misery is brilliant if you know it can't last.

Probably at the back of my head (cause the front was filled with dire thoughts i.e. how not to die) I knew I was going home to a bloody hot bath, and I could whip up a hot meal and luxuriate in the comfort of my heated room. So my misery only served to amuse me. But this theory doesn't hold water when I apply it to stuff like MIDS and MSTD and I kept trying to reassure myself that, it's only 6 weeks, we'll be back in Singapore soon! but somehow I still felt proper miserable haha. Perhaps by then I was already deadened and pissed off with the world at large. What memories eh?

But it's probably a useful skill to be able to be jovial and laugh at your own misery yeah? Then at least there's happy misery in addition to proper miserable misery, so the actual suffering involved is halved (assuming ofc that misery is split between the two equally, which is quite unfounded really.) Pretty good hey.

Anyhow I think all those old finger injuries are rearing their injured heads at me now. While I was freezing my posterior out on the pitch my fingers just seemed to be cramped or sth, and it was quite painful to move them about. Even now I can feel the discomfort when I wiggle my fingers. But spending >30mins in the shower is such bliss srsly, everyone should have a jaunt in the cold November rain just to experience such pure unadulterated bliss. Just Like Heaven. Feels like Para-para-paradise. Woooooaaaah ohhhhhhh.

I am a Rhymocerous
English is my thing
I can't use the abacus
But give me words and I am king!

Okay I actually want to continue but I ran out of ideas hehe. I saw this 'rhymocerous' or sth in my old BMT sergeant's fb status and I had a little laugh so I thought I'd try to construct a rhyme. None too successful though. In my defence, I did have a massive dinner cause shivering consumes a surprising amount of energy and I am definitely feeling the effects :( Brainpower approximately that of a horseshoe now.

I unfortunately have some work to do but my inner lazy self (so big it barely fits the term inner-self) is coaxing me to leave it for tmr. I am slightly afraid I'll fall sick after the tribulations of today, so maybe I should hit the sack early eh? Hehe lazychuan claims yet another glorious lazy victory. Although I do sort of feel like I have to puke, while not actually nauseous. Does that even make sense in any way? I just think I'd feel better if I had a little puke, which sounds, creepily enough, like the onset of bulimia instead of flu hahaha. Pretty nasty sensations in my stomach now though. I knew my cooking was going to cause me no small amount suffering sigh.

Okay time2lick my wounds and sulk a little bit. Laters.

Whistle For The Choir.

Hullo my new favourite song in a long long list of favourite songs hehe. Whistle For The Choir by The Fratellis. I heard a lady busker singing Portishead just now (Glorybox, "Give me a reason to love you") so I had no choice but to give her all the money I had, 1 quid. Was supposed to be for the laundry, that coin.

I also got ripped off for dinner. Nasal money for sandwiches and a beer. That teaches me a thing or two about being too lazy to cook, more fool me. And I went on amazon and ordered the 4th book in the Inheritance "trilogy", more famously known as the Eragon books. 9 quid for a hardcover book, not too bad I guess. I would have caught a movie if there were anything worth watching, but there wasn't, with the exception of perhaps tintin. Don't really think I want to spend $ (or £) watching it though. Tower Heist isn't on till tuesday sigh.

I watched a few movies yesterday. There was Sideways, which taught me alot more about wines than I think I ever need to know, but was nonetheless very good. Don't think I've ever seen anything by Paul Giamatti prior to this. I watched Clerks. which I unfortunately have to conclude is probably a tad overrated. I kept coming across it in must-watch comedy lists or somesuch. Which brings me to the third movie, In The Loop, which was an absolute cracker. I burst out laughing at the "Ron Weasley" part. That's what I call vulgar pleasures. Makes me feel like watching it again really.

Next two movies on the list are Breakfast at Tiffany's and Into The Wild, which I never knew was Sean Penn directed. Always reminds me of Mystic River that. Then A History of Violence (starring Aragorn son of Arathorn son of Isildur son of Elendil. Don't mess with a LOTR buff.) And maybe Topsy Turvy as well. I'm heartened to see Superbad on the list though, it's so life-changing that everytime I'm a little sad I just have to think of McLovin'..

So if you're lonely why'd you say you're not lonely?

 

The Base Of A Dream Is Empty.

I can't seem to want to go to sleep. Sleep is my jilted ex-lover. I was head-over-heels though, given that I woke up only at like 2pm today hehe. What a bum.

I haven't done anything today but indulge in movies. I'm making my way up empireonline's top 500 films, and I've watched Brick (Joseph Gordon Levitt in high school noir, what more could you ask for) and Superman Returns thus far. The appearance of Breakfast at Tiffany's on the list (not surprising) is perhaps the final push I need to finally watch it.

I also watched Christopher Nolan's Following. You can really see how he's developed his style from that to Memento. Pretty good and truly noir. Black and white films are none too common nowsadays eh? I think I really should watch Batman Begins soon, an obviously missing link in my Christopher Nolan quest.

Had movie night with my flatmates just now, an old movie called The Mission from 1986. Robert De Niro and Jeremy Iron and a quite young Liam Neeson too. Quite an epic, makes you wonder how people can commit atrocities like that, just like that. Although a quick peek at the history books would tell you that yes, they most definitely can.

Okay I'm gonna try and lure sleep back into bed (saucy!) so byebye *sexywink*

Okay I admit I failed. Clearly nowhere near sexy enough, despite the hotbodz :( I'll ramble on for a little while before resuming my movie madness.

I was talking to my flatmate just now and somehow we ended up talking about life experiences and stuff. It seems like most everyone says living and experiencing life is more important than possesions and wealth, but why is it that that's not what seems to be happening with the people around us? On the paper chase and the money trail, yuck. I hope I don't end up that way.

That's how I'm justifying hoing to watch The Naked and Famous at Portsmouth 2 weeks from now!! Hehehe. Took me all of 5mins to decide to do it and book the ticket, the trains to and fro, and the hostel since I'm gonna have to stay overnight. Y no midnight train :( I agonized over the decision for days, but once I'd decided I was gonna go it was a matter of minutes to finalize everything.

That's how it always works out with decisions. The truth is, it takes very little for us to make changes to our lives. It's really a very fine line between yes and no. Yes, I will go to that concert. No, I will not give you a chance. Our whole lives hinge on that fine line. It's scary.

So I've decided I shouldn't be so hung up over money matters. Although of course I'm a student, and monetary woes are a mainstay of student life. But I'm thinking... Phantom of the Opera in London?! Fancy that! Whoa. Keep the jealousy down plz. It's only a maybe.. but with every passing moment I'm considering the notion much more seriously. Hehe.

Unfortunately I haven't received an invite from either of my Finnish flatmates to visit during Christmas :( Haha the devious plan to exploit them to see the northern lights clearly hasn't come to fruition sigh. No choice but to spring an unwanted visit on their unsuspecting selves next year lah. "In the name of friendship, take me to the lights!" They won't stand a chance against my (future) pestering.

Although the tentative plan is Germany and at least Florence next Christmas if Basil will be there. And the US for Christmas 2013, also if Basil is there. It's quite gay that I'm basing my holiday plans on him isn't it. But that's just the excuse I need to visit Canada, and I'm pretty certain they get the northern lights as well.. Although I have this weird impression that they're a strictly Scandinavian thing. But surely the Russkies get it too (it'd be terribly depressing otherwise, all that cold and none of the sights!), so I must be wrong about the Scandinavian thing.

I really don't know why I'm not going to sleep. It's 6am now. Bummer. I'm going to reset my body clock by going without sleep I guess. It always fails when I sneakily decide to take a nap at like 5pm and wake up at 11. Then it becomes even more messed up, but if you repeat that a few more times... it stands to reason that one of those times will result in a righted biological clock! Or it might become permanently messive (massively messy that is) and I'll spend alternate days nocturnal and whatever-the-damn-the-opposite-of-nocturnal-is (I won't even pretend to know it haha.)

I'm halfway through writing a story now. But as is always the case when I reach the middle I am hopelessly lost. I usually start with a brilliant end in mind, and I try to make the beginning of each story as brilliant as possible. It's always the middle that stymies me. Like major stumbling block. I never know how to properly get my story to its brilliant end, and in the end I usually just putter about aimlessly, sometimes trying too hard, sometimes not doing anything at all. In the famous words of Me some time back, I am "bumbling about in the forest." Hopelessly lost.

That's what happened with pretty much all of my secondary school essays I think. I start of with this amazing idea, I wrack my brain for the perfect ending with a twist, and then proceed to fill up the middle with barely bearable rubbish. I miss secondary school essays though. Those one worders like - Flight, or Heat, or something. They were such fun to do. Then we graduated on to GP. 'Nuff said. Miserable stuff. GP was a trainwreck on the highway to hell.

Oh I didn't mention that my Finnish flatmates made a Finnish dinner which I couldn't help but finish (you know you saw this pun coming.) It was salmon cooked in the oven with like idk, a slice of heaven or sth. It was so flavourful and juicy and tender and just.. just.. magnifique! I wonder if I could whip up some char kway teow or sth for them haha. Or maybe it'd be a disaster (like my last fried rice) and put them off Singapore foreva. What a dilemma!

Okay I'm pretty sure this post-script is longer than the actual post was (oh that makes it post-post-script!:) so I shall end here. No fancy good-bye this time like ciao or ta-ta or adios or hasta la vista or something. This is it.

Like A Vulture In A Wasteland.

It takes a special genius to set an alarm on the laptop and leave the earpiece plugged in. The bloody alarm was beeping through the earpiece so frantically for more than an hour before I finally noticed it, so tiny was the sound. Woke up at 12:10 and by 12:30 I had left the house, after eating breakfast, taking a quick hot shower, and packing my stuff for the match. Pretty rapid eh?

An hour's drive down all the way down to Plymouth and I only played less than 10mins, spending the rest of the time freezing my ass off in my short shorts and short-sleeved shirt as the friggin' wind just buffeted the pitch. I need track pants and a sports jumper. And I think my legs are like icicles sticking out of my hips, so slow do I run. My one touch of the ball I got tackled by this big tall guy whom I had been certain I would outrun. Bummer. Too lazy to work on my sprints though. But I was shaking like a shaker fry out there, in the aftermath of rain. Proper november days we're getting now, all cold and chilly, but not unpleasant as of yet.

Celebrated my housemates birthday today at the Bella Italia. Sounds posh no? I was craving for some steak (after it appeared in the most awesome book I read yesterday) cause I realized I hadn't eaten a proper slab of beef since setting foot upon these shores. Good choice, whatwith the 50% off voucher to boot. And I had a dessert called The Godfather. Dramatic much! It was indeed quite epic though, Don Corleone would have approved.

Such sin does not however, go unpunished. I came home and laosai'd. I forgot to mention I had a slice of the birthday cake as well. Gluttony will be the death of me. Or maybe sloth? Perhaps wrath. zomg. De7an pls. (Srsly though that looks cool doesn't it! Hahahaha.) If you don't get me though, do watch Se7en, only one of the bestest movies EVER. Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, Kevin Spacey, and even Gwyneth Paltrow! (never thought much of her really, just another famous name, but after Shakespeare In Love I think she's not too bad)

The awesome book I read is titled The Sisters Brothers. It's a western, set in the Gold Rush of the 1800s. I embarked upon it late last night as I wanted to sleep, and what better way than to stare at little words assembled on little pages while in the amazing comfort of your bed right? Wrong. I couldn't put the book down and midway through it I marvelled to myself: Wow, this book is brilliant innit? Then continued reading. All done in one sitting. Strangely funny, for I hadn't expected something quite so humorous from something on the shortlist for the Man Booker prize (usually expect serious stuff that's heavy going and deep and profound on so many levels, no?)

Now I have no more books left though. Time for a visit to the bookshop soon, but I suspect I should make myself work for it. I'll try to put in a few more hours of study first sigh.

Time2Slip. I should start planning my christmas break out too huh. Good night whirl. (world)

P.s. I just have to add on cause I chanced upon the article which said that Singaporean women wouldn't date shorter men. That's outrageous and upsetting :( Not say we don't want to be tall.. Anyway if anything they should be amazed at how we manage to fit so much goodness into such small frames HAHA. And I mean, why would anyone want to resemble a BRONTOSAURUS?!?! (Click here for image) Yes, I'm talking about you woonshin. Albeit a Very Dashing one indeed. (I did warn you about impending war.) Ta then.

A Man With Such A Wistful Eye.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.

 -From the prison writings of Oscar Wilde

I never knew how The Portrait of Dorian Gray was such a portrait for Oscar Wilde's life. Or at least that's what I'm thinking after reading about his life and how he was charged for homosexuality or somesuch. He possesses such amazing wit and ability to write. I just saw one of his quotes the other day, in some shopfront "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." Or something like that. Some people say wit is the highest form of intelligence, some the lowest. I like to think it's pretty high up there, haha.

I've been watching House again, and I'm almost finished with season 6 now. And somehow 13 seems to be prettier than I remember her! Olivia Wilde, of course, which in all honesty had nothing at all to do with Oscar Wilde up there. I only just realized the coincidence haha.

The ba kwa that I brought from singapore is keeping me alive atm. And the packets of peanuts. Verrah good when you're hooked onto a tv series and refuse to leave your room for proper food. I should stick my hand out of my window every once in a while for my vitamin D dosage perhaps, or I might get very unhealthy. Of course with a diet consisting of ba kwa and peanuts you could argue that I'm already in the pits of unhealthiness.

I did go running today though, so that erases about... 2% of the damage done in my one week of unhealthily fatal diet. Hopefully head down for some training tmr, and death will be staved off once more.

What would you sacrifice for one moment of pure happiness? Unadulterated bliss. A whole life of hit-and-miss happiness? Probably not. A year of suffering? Shame, guilt or whatevernot. Because there's always a pay-off isn't there? Nah. Don't believe that. Things like happiness should never happen on a transactional basis, there should never be a pay-off for it.

I don't know what I'm driving at. Sometimes I just want to say sorry. I don't even know what for sometimes. In the hope that it will magic things back into the land of "okay" again, perhaps. Too many mistakes over too many years to undo them all, too many even to rue them all.

Sometimes I wish I could say farewell properly. The way it deserves to be said. Maybe closure is overrated but it still sucks that I've never been able to give proper goodbyes. Instead of neat and tidy endings all you get is sad sacks of regret and sadder bits of hope. And on nights like this, these bits still glimmer faintly, like half-buried gold from the lost city of Machu Picchu.

Well lost is lost and buried is buried. Shouldn't kid myself about "half"-buried nonsense. I looked at the above paragraphs and it kind of sounds like I'm suicidal. More specifically, jumping-off-a-really-high-building kind of suicidal. You know, one moment of pure happiness etc. Too many mistakes etc. Thankfully I'm not, actually, suicidal. Or I'd be really worried about my mental well-being. Phew that.

Although the fact that I even made that connection in the first place.. might be construed as a hint on my subconscious' part to make me realize that I am, actually, suicidal. Fascinating eh? Sigmund Chuan srsly. But I'm not Austrian so I'm probably wrong. So I'm probably not suicidal. Okay! I'll stop trying to be funny here.

To reassure-plus-chop you, I did have massive ego-boozt today so depression and suicide is highly unlikely. Hahahaha. Someone (or two) said that I (and this is verbatim, I don't go for self-feel-good hahaha) "had a hot body" and that she (or they, I'm quite unclear on this) would totally date me if I only were a little taller. Hahahahaha! So I did get knocked down a few pegs there, but on the whole, hahahaha! Makez one'z dayz totallyz! That's one in the solar plexus for any might-be-depression surely!

Okay I can't help myself must share this from youtube! The Cinematic Orchestra - To Build A Home with the sound of rain!!! Tell me that isn't the most fitting accompanying background sound ever. That's why I find it's always worth scrolling through some of the comments even though there are so many imbeciles/trolls/immature idiots/mature idiots out there demeaning most forums and comment boards all over the internet.

Whichhhhhh reminds me of that poor girl who slapped/beat her poor mother or sth. Not that she's a poor girl for having done that, although maybe you could argue that there's a case for that as well, in the convoluted mess that is parental relations. Anyhow. I clicked on a link to some hardwarezone forum which I think was the root source of all the trash that's been generated over the past week or so. (I don't actually know how current this is haha.) And have you seen the responses to the original post?! "Sexpose her!" etc. My word. We have got mega retards rampant on the forum. If you have any doubt about that, check out stomp. If I'm not wrong the nest of amazingly idiotic idiots should still be there stomping around.

Not that the girl didn't do anything wrong. Clearly she has issues. But I think it sheds more light on the rest of the people out there who have only been, childishly, fanning the flames. I think the mom suffers the most from this debacle. The ignominy of having been hit by a daughter now recognized by half the people on the street. It's just ridiculous.

And it's cause of the mob effect isn't it? Or the anonymity one. Either ways it's the internet that sparked all this nonsense, so it really makes me wonder that for all the good it's done so far, maybe it's not something that should have happened. Sorry Mark Zuckerberg and your fortune.

Okay it's alot later than I expected so. I shall take a break from my epic evasion of Sleep's Minions, and curl up in a nook and cranny (aka my bed) for a brief respite, where hopefully the Minions can't find me. Okay I shall stop trying to be funny. Isn't worki- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Except For Matters That Do;

Funny how it is that we can talk about all sorts of matters, except for those that actually do matter. Funny how we can say anything except for that which we truly want to say. It's the most important things which we are the most afraid of, and so our lips are forever sealed.

The Break Down Of Fortified Hearts.

You of heart fortified
I have
Hammer and ladder
And battering ram
I have
Determination and desperation
And stamina proportionate
You have
No chance!


I am super bored. This is the product of a super bored mind. Maybe bored isn't as accurate a descript as deadened. Numbed. Desensitized. Why? Cause I'm midway through my essay. I'm supposed to be doing my essay. I am 11 hours and 400 words away from submission. What I lack is not the word count but something of far greater import: Understanding. Lifesuxttmplzhelp!

I have hit a mind-block of such mass that when I tried to drive around it I ran out of gas (it's comforting to know that yo-mama-so-fat jokes are actually useable in other contexts.) But I shall strive onwards and upwards, only because I have no choice sigh. Working on an essay at 5.15am is not something I am keen ever to experience again. 4pm (or 1600GMT) beckons, however. Werk werk!



Okay hello all I'd finished my essay at about 9 something, and was so delighted I decided to indulge in some dota! It wasn't a matter of choice. I had to do it lest I fell asleep, and miss my workshop, and my deadline for submission, which would render all the hardwork of last night utterly futile. I've never disapproved of an essay that I've written so much before srsly. I was clutching at straws and maybe the right expression is "luan bomb" or "anyhow whack" or something.

I'm quite sure my essay was not at all cogent, let alone persuasive, and maybe even incomprehensible. The weakest strands of argument ever. Intellectual fail. And now I'm tired out of my mind and I just want to sleep but I can't. De Yan and the Arghonots. I don't even know how or why I remember something as randomly insignificant as Jason and the Argonauts argh. He's not even that famous a greek hero, I mean, pitted against Hercules or Achilles or even Perseus or Theseus. You notice I'm rambling. Tired sia.

I did have great fun over the weekend by the way. It was really nice to see yijie after so many years, perhaps I'd already begun to believe that I'd never meet any of them again. I can't convey how impressed I am with her. It must have taken great courage for her to make that decision to study abroad, and in bloody Scotland to boot! That she did, and with panache.

She just seems so mature and sensible now that it leaves me speechless. And the fact that she goes travelling by herself and all, it's just amazing. She said that the reason she decided to study overseas was because of us. It's good to know that we managed to make an impact on their lives, it truly is.

Well York was quite brilliant too! It's quite a pretty place, and I really liked the little oases of peace that were scattered around the city. It was surprisingly busy though, I'd expected a quiet little place but it was pretty crowded. Walking around for hours with a laptop and a textbook in my bag didn't do wonders for my energy though, I almost crumbled at the end of the day.

Which was when I headed off to Newcastle, home of the Toon Army. A thousand thanks and more to bel for hosting and entertaining me! Despite the fact that the Newcastle city didn't really appeal to me, I thoroughly enjoyed the 2 days there. Tynemouth was pretty nice but I guess I was blessed with a massive dollop of inexplicable good weather, making fish and chips by the seaside and sitting on the grass possible. Quite the miracle actually, given amount of rainfall this past week.

Then I had to round off my whole trip with a stupid stupid spoiler. Incredibly stupid. I can't imagine what I must have been thinking setting off for the station so late, which made me miss the train. You have no idea how pissed off I was with myself. The amount of idiocy involved, my word. Haiya. 100 pounds blown over such a silly matter. Some form of punishment is required. Rice + Soya sauce everynight for 3 years, no choice. Serving the dual purpose of both cost-cutting and punishment. I was almost gonna deny myself TNAF at Bristol but since Bristol is only an hour away.. And one week holiday for Christmas instead of 2.

It's a recurring problem though. I think at its root is overconfidence, perhaps cockiness. Confident that I can make the train on time (a hundred pound mistake). Confident that I can book in on time (24 confinements or 3 months with zero life the price to pay). Confidence in getting 6 points for O's. In getting straight As for A's. In getting SAS(O) instead of SAS(L). I've made a complete mess of things everytime I'm given the chance to. The fact that I'm where I am now is only testament to how amazingly blessed I've been despite all I've done to make a disaster of my life. I deserve so much worse. And there's only one explanation: grace.

Okay my body is revolting now. I know you're thinking ewwwwww disgusting!! now but I meant that it is up in arms against me, not that I have a particularly gross specimen of a body. Therefore I shall attempt to grab a few hours of sleep to appease it before it does something truly spectacular like, idk, die or something. Smell ya later! (If you don't recognize it it's a tribute to Pokemon - Gotta Catch 'Em All! cause that's my favourite line off Gary aka Blue.)