There comes a time when every writer will question.

There also comes a time when every writer feels the urge to tear up his manuscripts and watch the digits on the soft copy disintegrate, on hindsight.

There comes a time when we'll click our tongues, purse our lips and assess the risks because there is a positive correlation between creativity in writers and mental disorders.

Then the writer goes back to writing.

Darling, aren't we all slaves to the art. Or some fanciful scheme should do.

Blogs are primarily for vocalising behind a screen to an audience that you cannot see, and for talking to oneself. Yabber jabber doo, we sure know how to talk.

Even mere ramblings are subjected to judgement. This is the world I have let you into, the inside of my head, and I assure you there is no party going on in there. From questioning myself as a writer, to questioning myself as a person. Days on a high lead to votes of confidence, while normal days lead to much pondering and realism in a wafer-thin wisp of surrealism. The stuff of life.

We'll never be satisfied. What I have over a blank slate now does not even touch the tip of the iceberg. Ladies and gents, we've got a long way down to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Maybe not tonight. How is it possible that there can be so much information contained in a head's width? How is it possible that there can be more information that you are aware of contained in the span of a neuron?

That, my friend, is to show you that God has a penchant for bytes in bits. If we were made in His image, then that explains the existence of USB flash drives.

How many dark eye rings in exchange for satisfaction that never will be?

It is all nothing but a dream-like state. Or maybe I'm just sleepy.


Sleep, before I stir up more demons and people tapping their feet.

So.damn.sleepy.

How am I going to get all the work done today?

Fat fluffy bunny rabbits, Anjelica blogs for no reason whatsoever.

I hate Mark for always managing to be 1/2-1-1 1/2 hours late.

Much has happened lately that forced me to question Poly, and Singapore, and pretty much the whole world. Life turns around and surprises you with a disappointment that washes away the rose tint that you have no other choice but to see things as they are. Somebody shoves you and your tumble down the pavement. Other than the pain and the "WTF!" moment, the first thing you notice when you open your eyes is the grit between two slabs of concrete.


When people disappoint you, it is the greenish-black stuff that is between the gap-toothed ground.

I wonder how long I can take this. I'll probably be able to hold out with the support of God, my loved ones, my friends, people who will not sputter at the thought of a multi-dimensional view.

Am I so difficult to understand? Where is the stain on the lens of the telescope that is sending the observatory, then the entire country, then Google, into a flurry? Tell me where the smudgy extra-terrestrial beings are. Dear me. If everything is relative, there can only be these possibilities...

1) I'm not clear enough.

2) I don't make sense,

3) Because I'm stupid, I don't know what I'm talking about and I can't help starting by statement with a "Because".

4) But what if you're just not listening?

5) What if you can't be bothered?

6) Cuz everyone's falling asleep.

7) It is in our nature to bite the head off anyone who does not seem remotely intelligent or intelligible.

8) Cuz we just like to bite.

9) Because you're stupid.

10) Because you didn't bother to listen.

11) Because you're just not as smart as people who can actually understand it.

12) Because you just don't have so much patience for anyone but yourself. (Ego, ego)

Here I am, talking to myself. Damn I make me some good company.

I've gots ze She Wolf/Loba fever.

AUUUUU!

Screw SG radio stations for being slow in releasing new music, especially new Shakira music.


Speaking of yesterday, I've made a descision to not be self-conscious, even when the situation prompts me to withdraw from rejection of the opinion that I am entitled to. I wonder how my defence mechanism is working, hope I've installed Bounceback 3.0 already.

So much for Poly and DADP. There is much to learn, even when we think we know.

This is all part of God's will I suppose, something to sharpen my incisors, senses and self-control. Something that I'll teach my kids. Until shit happens to them, nobody will change their minds. This is how beliefs are shaped by experiences.


I wonder if I'll be part of the rare few to achieve self-actualisation. I sure hope so. *crosses fingers*

In this post, lemme say thanks to Miss Jennifer, even though she probably doesn't know this bit of cyberspace exists.

Considering how my personal tutor (a form teacher of sorts) showed her concern towards me when I let out the ILP problem during the EIC test, that's enough for me. I cannot expect people to do so many things for me now. Neither do I want them to be wrangled in potential politics. I'm 17 and am treated like an adult, so I have to live up to at least half the expectations of one. Yeah! Am so going to show that I deserve being in SP Dadp. Finding your way around life is one thing I'm learning now.

Oh and politics. If TC's politics spills over to my batch, I'll try my best to stay out of it. Politics: bloodsucking shit. Ain't no way am I wasting my energy on that anymore. I've had my fair share of office politics, which was a horrible experience, a taster of the real world, and one that is close to our nation (propagandish music).

Hasta la vista baby!

Thou shalt enjoy random banter and rant, for if satisfaction dost not sight thee, the disconcerting frustration shall cleft thee in twain.

Behold! For thy bitchiness knows no bounds!


Anyway, life is kinda suckish for me right now. I've lost my voice, and I'm supposed to deliver a rap on Monday. So it has been a lazy Saturday for me, considering how the inflammation developed into a voice-killing sore throat. I'm phlegmmy, it hurts when I swallow, it hurts when I cough, and I cough because it feels as though someone tickles the back of my throat every minute. Apparently, I slept a lot today to escape that.


Some people deserve rectal thermometers forcefully stuffed up their crackholes. If only I can bring myself to name names, or rather, name. It's a little pointless like this, but this is what non-confrontational people like me have to do. What lacks in confrontation is made up for in rants directed at the anonymous. As much as this stops me from being impulsive and having to pick up the pieces later, part of me wishes for the person in question to know it in his (HIS!) heart fully well that he's pissing me off really badly. I suppose not, since he's apparently not very smart, shallower than a puddle, ridiculously angsty and attention seeking in a bad way (and for terrible reasons, one of those is that he is himself. I know people get upset like that, but most of the time, people redeem themselves and I can understand them. In his case, he's just pathetically himself. It's hard to get mad at a person, not the circumstances, but now, even rhectoric would rather kill itself)

I don't know what to say. Except for, YOU SUCK.

I'm a lot more patient now, but you still manage to piss her ladyship off. Man you're good. If you ever decide to wear a Speedo, you'd probably choke yourself with it while trying to put it on.

I doubt he reads this blog though. Simply reading the first sentence would hurt his brain, and grey matter would become melted gelatin. Honestly, creatures like you are a disgrace to the male species and homo sapiens. Don't ever have children. It's the same reason why people don't want Paris Hilton to have kids. Gosh if you tell me that my post and blog is emo simply because I don't overdose on smilies or overtly happy signs, take your limited vocab, your assumptions, your intelligence of a beng away from the ground that I blog on. Don't soil it. Learn to read. Please.


Damn I'm catty when something gets on my nerves.


Shit happens. The circumstances are ever so frustrating. I love what I study, and I started this week with a renewed breath to enjoy every lesson and every bit of homework. Don't get me wrong, it's really effective in staving away procrastination and potential put-downs. Sometimes, life just disappoints you. To put it simply, grey skies are when the sun cannot be seen, but that doesn't mean the sun has been obliterated and painted a dull colour, then scattered across the atmosphere.

Speaking to Hongwei, I now understand why Poly gives you lots to talk about.

DD, AD, ILP, IP... God teaches me a lesson of His own while my lecturers impart their skills and sarcasm.


Oh yes. For improv, I've gotten 21/30 (sidetrack: Psych MST 31/40). Thank God results have been satisfactory (average results for both tests, really), especially when I'm finding footing on uncertain ground. I was certain I wouldn't excel at the start of the semester, but I needed my safety net while He prepares me and guides me though the manouvres, constantly reminding me that I'm very much lost without Him. Ah well, every day is a new resolution. Oh no! Time to get back to work > <


Anyways, DD has been off to a technically smooth and emotionally rocky start (contradiction!). It is time for me to learn the truth of drama. If you want dynamism, you're going to have to put up with all the differences and differences in egos. Yes, I shall solidify my stance while keeping the balance. That's always been my job, hasn't it? Hence, the non-confrontational tendencies. Moments of unhappiness have to come to pass, and, this is hard to learn, but... Whatever happens during DD stays in DD.

It's the stress of so many new bad experiences that put me off a little, I'll be up on my feet sooner or later, one day having the ability to slip through the cracks. At least the work is done.

I won't forget the good times though. Great to see so many sides of people that are hidden away from the majority. It's... humanising, to say the least.


AD forces me to question myself as a person. C is for Constance, and unfortunately also for Contradiction. How can someone so Cruel be able to display so much staged Compassion and Concern. Now I ask myself: which of it is artificial? Oh and my Classmates are a screaming riot. Love their sense of humour man.


Hmm, should I talk about my tests?

IP: *pats self* Not bad for the first MCQ test, and I'm so glad I studied in depth for some difficult topics. Making the right descision in a bid to win a gamble, and then actually winning it feels good. Note to self, always look long term. That shapes me up for the written tests. Fyi, I didn't study 3 topics of bio psych, and there were around 12 topics tested. Oh and IP's getting really fun. Gotta love Social Pysch. It makes me all... introspective. Haha total contradiction, considering how Social Pysch is about external influences.

Improv: Nervousness gets you nowhere, but I'm extending more control over my own emotions each day. I know I'll get better with more practice, and this is just where I am now. Drama is but a facade. The best actors are those with the strongest facade. Interpret this as you might. I think, the stronger the facade, the more comfortable you are exposed to the elements, cuz you're safe to be the character and some facets of yourself. Drama is such a contradiction.


ILP was okay I guess. Both good and bad. Good because I'm learning much about children, it'll make me a better mother. It gives me the opportunity to help Catherine when she doesn't get it. The more you teach, the more you learn, innit? I've learnt how to write better notes already. Maybe that's how teachers can stick to their jobs for decades.


Bad part about ILP? For one, the lecturer isn't exactly the most sensitive person in the world, yet she is. :) From informing us that she's going to cry to siding with the class on deciding to trample over a student's different perspective... she's done it all. I like her, but this calls for much forgiveness to people who don't understand that they have committed a crime against a soul.


What can I say? Some of us think heat always softens iron. Similarly, we think an unheard of, different perspective is wrong and ridiculous, without wanting to hear more of it. They said humans flying could never be, but people in those times would bite their lips if they now know of things like Boeing 747. What misjudgement!


Similarly, this is how people misunderstand MJ. They cannot accept the possibility that the dude has a fixation on childhood, without any sexual connotations. Why is this not possible? Why not? Naivete has many forms. We don't know the man, heck. We don't even know ourselves that well. Who are we to tell MJ who he is? You are a freak who penetrates little boys while their parents are not around. Yes, that and so many people wanting to suck the money outta him. People just choose to ignore what they cannot understand. When they agree with this sentence, they would probably not think that they have done it before. You know who you are.


Well, I'm not a pushover. I stop at a different opinion, because I am not all-knowing. It's called balance.

If I am but a fool to you, then I would rather remain in the light. ;) Those who fear darkness live in the light, while those who would rather remain in the darkness are doing so in order to indulge in their wrongs because no one can see in the dark.

Gotta love that kinda wisdom. Reminds me of Daniel saying those who are the most honest have the least to lose.

God help this contradiction, and this contradictory post. Haha, the very essence of me.


Pill-poppers can sleep, but how well can they sleep? Like insomnia, ignorance is restricted bliss. There is much freedom beyond. I might have lost the voice in my larynx (voice box), but I certainly haven't lost the one in my head. I'm very much sane, and still alive and writing. Composing words to defend, rebuke, praise and indulge. See see my vocab!


Okay whatever.

Good Night and Good Luck!


Footnote:

ILP: Intro to Lifespan Psychology
IP: Intro to Psychology
DD: Devised Drama
AD: Applied Drama

Tis' a decent photo, that had to be edited Andy-Warhol style because...



1) I didn't really like how I looked in the original,



2) I haven't been very satisfied with a lotta pictures



3) Everybody needs an Andy Warhol!




Make one today!






Updates:



Anyway, I've done okay for my Psych test (the only MST that Yr 1 DADP has to take) and made 2 intelligent guesses.



Considering how I didn't study 3 topics of bio psych, it's very satisfactory.



On the other hand, I've lost confidence in the AD essay that I turned in. The ideas are considerably inspired and original, enough research, written and put together well enough, except for one problem: I didn't link the Singaporean problem to Image Theatre well enough. That's a huge chunk of the marks. Oh my. *frown*



Oh well, it sure is a thing to experience writing an AD essay and listening to everyone (including yourself) complain "I HATE AD ESSAYS!".



DD... HECK YEAH Yours truly is the scriptwriter for the devised piece! Storyline and characters are materialising already. Damn, being in total control (well, technically, shared control with your group) feels great. Ain't nobody's gonna censor us. Well, no one but ourselves.


There are so many things to turn in on Week 15 though. *boo*




Oh gawd. Lemme say. Foreign Language teachers (not just the Spanish teachers) are hawt!


They're so exotic. Oh and what if my classmates are right, "What if this is what a normal person looks like in their country?". Well, if that were true, I'm moving to Spain.



Was more blur than usual in Spanish class. Must be all that bio psych cramming I did before the 5.30 class.

Oh, and there's nothing like bonding with new and newer friends.

End of update! Besos.

This morning I woke up with a cer-razy throat inflammation that I swear wasn't there the night before. No more Doritos, excessive practicing and whatnot, and not enough sleep and water.

So yeah... battling extreme thirst and this miserable hollowness in my throat, like someone surgically removed a protective layer.

On the bright side, I'm much better now.

One thing I've found myself wondering is why females and hormonal little boys have to be so cryptic in their speech, especially when someone's stepped on their foot. I guess I'll understand the slightly sadistic element of being totally enigmatic when one doesn't reveal where the source of pain comes from.

It's more than just not understanding where it hurts. For some of us, we'd tell you if we knew. A case of "I would if I could, but I can't so I don't".

Besides the occasional annoyance (you know who you are), sometimes we're just attention seeking, anal and ridiculously hopeful of any chance of telepathy like that.


From dust we came, and to dust we will return. Even a child is so full of evil, so they say, and I never understood why. Is telling a white lie that you ate one more cookie... evil?

Maybe it's the potential of evil that is being referred to. It's terrifying to be acquainted with the evil side of you, to know how every human can potentially destroy all that is good.

This is where guilt, laws and self-restraint, and God comes into order.

Guilt. Have you ever come back from an outdoor camp, under the hot sun, caked in a layer of dirt, and had a little encounter with mud and the 'great outdoors'? You smell of something unpleasantly peculiar, your hair is a rat's nest and of course, you haven't had a bath in ages.

Being a cleanliness freak, it's the same, considering how I can't stand being very dirty. When guilt engulfs and digests you like a carnivorous creature, I feel dirtier than a whore. I'm appalled by the evil that resides in me. Thank God it hasn't culminated into... I'd rather not know. Maybe that's why my conscience works overtime.

Words cannot express the regret and disgust, knowing that this is the darkness in me and fear that one day it would come to relish its consumption of me and God forbid, I cannot bring your names to my lips.

We're vulnerable in so many ways. Merciless in the face of fate and our inner workings, but also at the mercy of He who makes us and guides us.

May God protect us from bad thoughts.

Time for cleansing.

Sometimes, the world turns faster than we can catch up. It's like holding your breath, and upon the release, giving back what you received from your surroundings... the world has changed within the span of a breath.

Listening to Shakira's Laundry Service's Ready For The Good Times makes me think of how life would've changed for her. Maybe it's just this special intuition that artists and fans have of each other. Both as an aspiring artist and a fan(girl), I think of the path she has trod, with her share of embarassing mistakes and "what on earth did I agree to?".

When she was 17 in 1994, she broke a little of the Colombian music market (still a very small one, probably just a little bigger and more supportive than Singapore's) with 2 albums that flopped commercially and a cheesy soap opera Romeo-and-Juliet style where she found out that she wasn't cut out for acting.

She had a contract for 3 albums with Sony Colombia, and honestly, I don't think anyone has the same opportunities anymore. I must say that the first 2 albums did give her the exposure of making music, an insider's knowledge of the business and where she stood, and where she could go.

Exactly who's allowed to have room for mistakes like that? Guess I won't ever know how much loss there was in 2 ill-received albums.

Simply because she understood what happened during the production of the first 2 albums, she assumed control on the third one, which is now her first official album Pies Descalzos (Bare Feet).

I believe it was the first 2 albums that allowed her to make most of the mistakes in starting out, and Sony probably can't do anything about cancelling it because it was legally binding. As much as she'd like to bury the first 2 albums, together with the telenovela, it still serves as the reflection that I see in myself today.

Who knows? It's the screw-ups and doubts you gotta put up with, professionally and otherwise. Then somehow, as the years pass in an inhale and exhale, grace and self-assured confidence takes over. To make it seem it was all effortless. Seem.

"I would want her to know she didn't waste one second, everytime she let her imagination fly,".

Remembering how the first time I've heard her say that on a good interview, something in me was pushed up in the form of a tear to coat the rim of my eye.

Like a big sister telling you that she's been there and one day, all the persistent faith in the world in a petite body would overpower everything else to explode into undulating waves of passion and essence. Besides the physical frame that we share (me lacking the ass and the hips that can be dislodged at will), the spirit of an artist is one and the same, just expressed differently.

We walk 15 years apart, but the footprints she had left are still fresh on the ground that I press my bare feet into, as if they were imprinted the day before. Such is the relativity of time.

I turn my head, and the girl, about as tall as I am, with jet-black tresses and baby fat gives me a most peculiar wave with her head, nudging me forward. Then ahead, there's the girl with the straight black hair, then another with dreadlocks and coloured bits, and a redhead, then one with wild blonde curls, then a brunette, and the last I've yet to see up close. Her appearance and inspirations changes from time to time, but you could tell she's still very much the same person, still holding on to the dream that a little girl by the beach had envisioned.

So, what do I make of tomorrow? It has become clear to me that day I turn 32 is not far off. I'm not sure if I've drawn a breath yet. Being able to relate to her like this... I hope it's a plausible reason for why I'm easily excitable if we're talking about her. If there's anything I'm sure of tonight, it is that my dreams would not come to nought.

identity-finder, half-thinker, thought-translater, life-pacer, adversary-fighter, grown-wiser, subtle-humour, nail-biter, indulgent-appreciator, pragmatic-dreamer, irony-murdered, unglamourous-puss, rocket-bunny

october 1st, sixteen, libran, singapore, tutor, christian, student, daughter, sister, friend, writer, artist, teenager, life, love

corny in a paradigm where sense and non sequiturs go together, taking it in like vanilla ice cream on a banana split, or sand on a boot. whichever goes.

Adelina Anjelica Cassandra Clarissa Daniel Esther E-von Geraldine Hairil HongWei Huiyi Jasmin Jasmine Jay Joseph Kenneth Marlyna Mythili Nadrah Samuel Sharon Sisi Shawn Stephanie Szeyuan Tivona YongQuan SHAKIRA Bare Feet JSS ELDDS

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