Monday, 31st May 2010

I. Am. Freaking. Out.

Here I am at the TP library. I awoke to the darkness of 6 this morning, half-stoned and anxious. I had been tossing and turning the whole night through, and it didn't help that the air-conditioner in our room broke down in the middle of the night. I felt so warm, but was way too tired to get up and turn on the fan.
Now, you can imagine.

I utilised my time on the bus and memorised my Inorganic & Physical Chem (PIPC) formulae. I went through all I've done, and still I'm nervous. The other kids know some things I don't, like the formulae for certain compounds. They don't teach you that here. It was Secondary School Chemistry. I'm just nervous about the drawing of diagrams to show how bonding occurs. Gonna ask someone about it later.

I got to school pretty early, before 8am, even after walking through Bedok Reservoir Park and through the school. I couldn't believe my luck, but then this dull, throbbing headache came along. It's still here now. Methinks taking Panadol would affect my performance or memory somehow.

Why don't I trust myself? Why should I be nervous?
My conductor once told us, "Give it everything you've got, then your audience can't ask any more from you."

So. Give it everything I've got, then nobody can ask any more from me, even myself.
No "what-ifs", no "buts".
Go for it.

Sunday, May 30th 2010

Oh, God.

Been studying extra hard daily.
I mean, I try to study and do my work daily, but sometimes there's really no time. Nowadays, it's nothing but study. At the library, at Mcdonald's, on the MRT, at home, on the bus...

I feel like I'm going to lose my mind, either before the papers, during the papers, or after them. I fear I might just start hallucinating and laughing to myself after all the papers are done. Oh, God, oh, God.

I know I should aim high and trust myself, but what if I really can't get at least an 'A' for everything? My entire life, my entire career and future prospects are riding on a fantastic GPA, and nothing, nothing sounds and looks better than a perfect 4.0. Much as I hope to get a 4.0, I'm only human (yes, I know I sound like I'm implying that 4.0-pointers aren't human, but maybe they aren't?). I know somewhere, somehow I'll screw up, dammit, and I'm upset with myself for that.

I don't believe I can't do as well as everyone else, even though I don't have any background in Chemistry or A Maths (taking into consideration the fact that I'm taking 3 Chem subjects and 1 Maths Stats). This stereotypical thinking is ridiculous, really, and it's my job, no, my dream to prove society wrong.
That's right- society is my enemy.

Friday, 28th May 2010

I think I have a fetish for all things antique.

I have yet to be cured of my obsession for old typewriters. They may be more difficult to type flawlessly with, and I know I should be glad I have a computer to do that, but I just can't help feeling a part of me is missing.

My friends used to tell me I was born in the wrong century. I should have been born at least a hundred to three hundred years ago. Think of all the things I could have done; I could have watched and heard Farinelli sing, I could have met Mozart himself, I could have seen Charlie Chaplin perform live, I could have attended Oscar Wilde's hearing, I could have talked on an antique telephone, I could have been part of the Little Rascals, I could have been alive when Elvis became a sensation, I could have attended a Bob Marley concert. Perhaps I should have been born thousands of years ago, I could have lived in Ancient Egypt or experienced sorcery.

Sometimes, I feel I'd done them all. I had been there, seen it all. Then, I feel the empty space in my heart aching, aching for what was there before. I want to go back.

What's great about the world now? It's all concrete, cold and hard, unsympathetic. Truth be told, the world was never sympathetic before, but at least there were people who loved the world.

Thursday, 27th May 2010

To have someone fight to love you, don't you think that love is of great depth?

It isn't fair to say one can't have it all. True, one would have to sacrifice something for everything he gains. Why, why do they insist that I can only do one thing at a time?

Reality is a dream-killer. To live and to love, why can't I have that?
"No means no." "How can you study when you have a boyfriend?" "How can you stay happily married if you want a career?" "How can you do this when you want that?" "How can you have your cake and eat it too?"

I sacrifice time and sleep for my studies, social life and CCA. Is that not good enough? I put in so much effort, only to be accused of not studying. I put in so much time, only to be accused of wasting it. They are puerile, insensitive imbeciles, am I to waste my breath on them?
Am I to spend the rest of my life following blindly, agreeing without consideration, living without passion?
No, I refuse.

I can't quite remember the last time I did something I regretted. I don't do or say things I regret, each is taken as a lesson or experience.

Crude words spewing forth from one's mouth upsets the other.

My world is getting more suffocating by the day. Each day is unpredictable. People around me are being ridiculous, demanding and callous. Why should they be disappointed, what right have they? Every day is a battle, but I don't even have scars to show for it. Pressure is coming from all directions, in my quiet moments I just feel like giving up, or curling up to die.

The urge to run away.

Wednesday, May 26th 2010 2

Insanity is brewing,
Patience wearing thin.

Wednesday, 26th May 2010

He drew back sharply as the noise hit him. Where was it coming from? He couldn't tell. All he had ever known was quickly seeping from his veins, his heartbeat pulsating faster with each gasp of air. Cold perspiration formed a film on him, his hair sticking to his face. It was too late, too late now to turn back.

With swift movement, he severed his artery, and the spray stained the ground a deep, dark red. Delirious but conscious, his eyes widened in wonder as the hallucinations began.

He saw her, at her second birthday when she sang loudly, obliviously out of tune. She sang out proudly at the bulky video camcorder, happily, blissfully. He saw the greenish tinge of her skin when she came to him after having been bitten by a snake. He felt his stomach twist as he rushed her to the hospital, the bagged snake in one hand and she, in the other. He held her as they injected the antidote in her chubby baby arm.

Too late now, she was long gone. All childhood memories had been wiped clean off the slate, in their place stood her teenage years and fervent hopes for the future. He made a last attempt at being rational and then, failing, collapsed to the floor. There he lay, surrounded by her music.

He had finally pinpointed the noise that had so frightened him. The waves waited patiently outside his ears until the final moment, when he allowed them to touch his soul.

Monday, 24th May 2010

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

It's time to try
defying gravity
I think I'll try
defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
and you won't bring me down

I'm through accepting limits
'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
but till I try, I'll never know
Too long I've been afraid of
losing love I guess I've lost
Well if that's love
it comes at much too high a cost

Saturday, May 22nd 2010

I awoke with a jolt this morning, after finally having gotten sufficient sleep.

In my 10 hours last night, I realised I've been returning to this particular island in my dreams.
It's a populated island, not too big, with Caucasian tourists about. There were shops, there were houses, with beautiful flower fields in front of them.

I found myself always walking along this particular road. It is an unfenced one, so on my right is a steep drop off a cliff, on my left is just a hill to climb. I would climb it, all the way to the top, where a mansion with a doll house shop stood. My cousin would be there, and he would speed off, across a lake within the island, in a speed boat that our family supposedly owns. I would then proceed to the mansion, climb up to the doll house shop, and try to buy something, but they were always too expensive. So, I contented myself just by spending time pretending I live in the little doll houses.

When I finish, I walk back down by the same road, I am holding something in my hand, something of no financial value, but is important to me. Someone runs past me and grabs it, and in its place, puts a long shotgun and a silver handgun.
Guns. Guns. I have never held one, let alone used it, but that person, still running, shouted,

"You will be needing them."

Friday, 21st May 2010

Doing a quick blog post at the TP library now.
For some stupid reason I can't comprehend, my internet has been dead for the past week. It's incredibly frustrating, but luckily for me, every day has been pretty busy, some leaving barely enough time for me to get 6 hours of sleep before going through the routine again the next day.

Today, I had 3 quizzes- One for Inorganic Chemistry, two for Biomolecules, practical and theory. Ridiculous.
Our quizzes spanned two weeks- and when I came to school this morning, I felt totally drained. The thought of giving up tempted me, I felt so tired of life. I chose this path. It's going to get worse with time, why did I choose it?
I reasoned with myself that this is the path to my desired career, and then took out my notes to revise. What was I thinking? This life is hell! No, I won't give up. I musn't. I worked too hard for this and I'm jolly well going to get where I want.

Several years ago, I got an iPod mini for my birthday. It was there for me during the most difficult few years of my teenage life. Then, it started to die- the battery life got shorter and shorter until finally, after 18 hours of charging, it could only play for half an hour. I tried to get it fixed at the Apple store, but they refused, saying they offered no such service. Then, my sister, after getting her touch-screen phone, gave me her Creative 30 GB player, of which 27 GB was already used up. I didn't delete too much because it was mostly classical music, to which I listen while studying. Recently, however, it jammed at the welcome screen and wouldn't budge, even after I pressed the reset button. It is about 5 years old and looks pretty, uh, old, so I have finally decided to dig into my travel savings to buy an iPod classic.

I've been wanting one for some time now, and since I did well at my Grade 5 theory (which, by the way, I suffered a lot for), I have decided to buy one. It would cost me about $400, but it would last me for a couple of years at least. D keeps urging me to buy an iPhone instead, but no, honey :D I just don't see the appeal. Besides, I might become one of those totally-engrossed-in-iPhone people, and then what would happen?
Heh.

What does it take to keep a conversation flowing?
Is it imagination, is it insight, is it the ability to inject humour? I wonder, if two people have nothing in common, what have they to talk about? Do they argue instead? Debate?

I used to be so afraid of the phone.
I just didn't like the awkward silences. It's either that, or spending 18 years picking up my calls to shouting, ill-mannered people. I don't know. I guess over time it just made me scared of talking on the phone.

Oh, that reminds me, my phone is dying, too. The colours have been going off, sometimes the faint messages linger on the screen. I've used it for two years now and it still looks pretty good, but looks lie. I find getting a phone a hassle, my parents take forever to decide whether to allow me to get one or not. They mostly disagree with my tastes and suggest I get the ugliest things. Meh. I'm not asking them for permission in buying my iPod classic.

I'm past that.

Sunday, May 16th 2010

Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity
And you won't bring me down.
I'm through accepting limits
'cos someone says they're so.
Some things I cannot change
but till I try, I'll never know.
Too long I've been afraid of
losing love I guess I've lost.
Well, if that's love
it comes as much too high a cost.

-----

It's been exactly four years now, since May 16th 2006.

May 16th. May 16th. May 16th.
I used to write that all over the pages, I used to think about it every moment of the day, I used to think about her, dream about her. She haunted my nightmares. When I closed my eyes, I returned to that day, those few hours, and the days that entailed. Each time I awoke with my pillow soaked, my eyes wet, my hair pasted to my forehead, my fingers clawing at my bolster, my duvet kicked away by violent actions in my sleep.

When I graduated from the school, I stopped seeing her in real life, but then she visited me in my dreams and nightmares. I have re-lived that day at least 50 times since then, each time making me more depressed because it meant I still hadn't gotten over it.
Evil watches me from a corner, I have to be careful of what I say and where I put my things. It is more dangerous at home than it is outdoors. There's this building hate for the people who share this house, mistrust, disgust. I feared for my sanity, hallucinations of sight, sound and smell teased me till I wondered if I was going mad.

How does one say goodbye?
She played the biggest part in my growing up. The academic results, the leadership roles, the will to live. It never did occur to my family, Rabbit was the only one who understood. He comforted, he embraced. They, however, remained as cold as stone.
It's been long over, but every May 16th haunts me, the excruciating pain, the soreness of my eyes, the salty taste of tears, the piercing feeling in my stomach. Yet, the one comfort this year is that I didn't spend May 16th depressed and alone.

My Love was there with me.

Saturday, 15th May 2010 (2)

Once there was a boy who was afraid of clocks. He was very afraid, so terrified of them that he never wore a watch. He believed that clocks everywhere were watching him, ticking, ticking, waiting to grab at him with their spindly hands. Being near any kind of clock made him feel uneasy, but secretly, every night he prayed that he would stop being afraid.

His friends and family could not understand his fear, and so could not commiserate and sympathise.
"Time is not going to get you," they laughed, "don't be silly!"
Uncured and annoyed, he argued futilely.

As the years passed, he grew older, and so did his fear of time. His very first watch was an antique pocketwatch given by his wife. It was his 56th birthday, and his heart took a single leap when he opened the box to find it there. However, he did not cower, but slowly and gingerly lifted it out of the box.

Its shiny exterior gleamed at him, as if smiling in greeting. Its face had no expression, but it's hands, elegant, ticked proudly with every passing second, pointing towards the gothic, black roman numerals. He gasped softly when one of the hands came round to point towards him, but it did not make a grab.

Instead, it extended a long, elegant hand, open, ready to receive. He paused briefly, as if to consider his options then, slowly but surely, placed his hand in the spindly elegant one, his face not once showing signs of fear or regret.

Saturday, May 15th 2010

Rodin did a great job on this, don't you think?

We decided to re-name our dog "Mutton". The day after he arrived at our house, I remember taking him out for a walk. After that, we were about to go home. Rabbit's empty cage was still sitting outside, near the gate. Mutton looked at the cage, growled, and started barking at it.
It was empty.

There are two explanations for it, of which I can fathom. Mutton was either barking at the scent left behind, or he saw something. Someone. Either way, it just made me feel a lil sad. The cage disappeared the next day, I didn't ask about it. In my quiet moments, I used to squat in front of the cage and look at it, open the cage door, and just remember Rabbit.

It's been a deplorably stressful week. Monday and Tuesday were filled to the brim with school and studies and choir practices, and then I had a quiz every day from Wed-Fri. I barely had enough time to study for them, I had to keep myself awake during lectures, squeeze in some study time during lunch breaks. Every night now I just drop dead in bed. I concluded that the breakout on my face is due to stress, which my friends labelled "cute". Hmmm.

Mom and Dad are getting fed up with Mutton, Mom insists that Dad has no time, though Dad hasn't said anything. In the car this morning, she just couldn't stop talking. I'll never know what's her problem. When she starts, she just can't stop, and her tone is somewhat mocking, the "I told you so" kind of tone. When I couldn't take it anymore, I told her sharply, "that's enough".
Mom is talking about sending the dog back to it's original owner. Nobody ever said it was going to be easy, taking care of a dog. She's treating Mutton like some toy. I guess I should have seen it coming, Mom and Dad aren't the kind of people to keep promises. I should never pin any hopes on them lest I be disappointed time and again. I've learnt it long ago.

I was just talking to D over the phone last night, and we came upon the topic of travel. Do you remember I started a savings box for my trip to Venice? I still ache for Venice, but now I'm starting to think of these savings in a different way. This money I've saved won't just be for a short holiday, but to start me off if I ever feel the need to escape, to get far away from this place and these people.

I used to want to emigrate to Hawaii. It started from watching Cirque du Soleil's "Alegria", when I was fascinated with fire-dancing. A close tribal experience with the Maori people in New Zealand left me fascinated, just fascinated. I wished I could be part of it. Then, there was "Lilo and Stitch". I even did batik paintings of surfboards! I wanted, so much, to go to Hawaii. In 2005, I got my wish. My choir went there to participate in a competition, and I loved, loved it, loved it. The main island is a bit too developed for my tastes, but it's still beautiful.

I've noticed I love places with lots of water. It's calming, the song of the waves like a lullaby. They cradle me, make me feel safe despite the cold darkness. I've developed a liking for the big fountain at school. It's wide enough to help me imagine an endless stretch of water, despite the sprays of water that travel in the wind. At night, it reflects the lights of the buildings, just like it did at Venice. Sometimes I like to sit at the fountain and sing to the breeze.

Sunday, 9th May 2010

Disney's Aladdin "A Whole New World"

Saturday, May 8th 2010

New doggy today!

But somehow I don't feel as happy as I should.

We adopted Oneone from a young couple who bought the dog together 2 years ago. They broke up recently and wanted to give him a new home, so it just so happened that my sister heard about it and arranged for it to be sent to our house, but not before she went to meet them and him.

He greeted me, a total stranger, by surrendering entirely on his back, displaying his tummy. He's a male shih tzu, though groomed as a short-haired dog. We clicked right away, I sang to him, we vegetated on the couch together.

But.
There's this guilt tugging at my heart, the sadness I so long banished to the corners of my mind.

Every time I eat carrots, every time I see a plastic food dish, every time I look up from bed in the morning, I see Rabbit. He was my best friend, he listened to every word and song, he cuddled with me when I cried, he never failed to kiss me goodnight.

Oh, Rabbit. I find it difficult to accept a new pet so readily, even though you've been gone for more than a year now. I thought it would be easy, a new friend, a new personality, but I was wrong. How could I do this, how could anyone, really?

I miss you dearly every day; how you kissed me, how you chewed up my textbooks, how you hopped in the air happily, how your mouth turned orange after eating carrot. I miss your twitchy ears that listened, I miss your tuft of fur that stuck out awkwardly, I miss every bit of you that was given to me as a gift from God.
----------------------------------------

Feeling exhausted.

Yesterday was CCN day, so somewhat more interesting than usual. There was an energy about, and nobody could really pay full attention during the lecures that lasted till 11am. Communication Skills class started at 2pm, so after combing the schools and their booths, my classmates and I hung out at Itas. Some of them finished off their homework, some did Chemistry exercises, some just sat around and drank Ribena, like myself.

I attended the band session at Potong Pasir, and was actually surprised at the music. They practised "I Will Survive". I paid more attention to the musicians than the song, watching, just watching how they moved to the music, felt the rhythm, each with his own skill. It was strange, awkward, but somehow nice as well. Had dinner after the jam session at some coffeeshop, where I kind of tuned out strings of vulgarities. Guys have a certain type of humour, you know?

D and I headed to Changi Airport for our overnight-study date. We got there around 10pm, went straight to Macs where they were playing hokkien jazz over the speakers. I got started on my Chemistry Pre-Lab and quiz notes, while D tackled his Marketing and Stats. Vindictive thoughts set in after a girl behind the counter made a bad joke, but he didn't pursue it.
We studied there till 2am, then went to Burger King in search of food and quiet shelter. We had burgers and onion rings, then decided not to study there, so we headed to the viewing gallery. It was already a lil crowded, but we managed to find a nice spot. He was already half-asleep by then, so he slept while I continued summarising my OC notes. (Heh heh, D, I know your secretsss)
I kept nodding off after 5am, but forced myself to stay awake so I could wake him in time for the sunrise. Alas, it was not needed. After I did and we moved to get a better view, he went back to sleep! The sun rose, and at 7am I fell asleep, sharing his leather bag for a pillow. I woke up with an invisible but painful bruise at the side of my eye. I must've laid on something hard on his bag, but, I was too tired to notice.
Breakfast at Ya Kun Kayatoast, and then I helped him pack his room and move to his new house. Beautiful place, it looks and feels so homey. I wish I could live in a house like that. I came home to a waggy dog, but grumpy people, demanding to know where I showered, what I did last night, who I was with.
I ignored the last question.

This is getting increasingly ridiculous by the day.
I need milk now.

Wednesday, 6th May 2010

People say the word "love" too lightly, don't you think?

"Oh my god, I love this bag!"
"I love the feel of this jacket"
"Don't you love my sandals?"

I hear that word everywhere I go, in any conversation I have and overhear. It's said too easily, too lightly, and do people even know what they mean when they say it?
They say love is a feeling, it can't be described. What does it take to feel it, and how do you know what it is when you do?

Love is unidentifiable, yet so sought after by so many. With it lie other complications and feelings, yet people still yearn for it. Yes, people say the word "love" too lightly.

But,
I love him, I love him.

Saturday, May 1st 2010

Yesterday, at school, we were having a class on communication skills. It took two hours of my very valuable time. Very valuable, indeed.
We had to do a skit in little groups, obviously, displaying good communication skills. My group chose a paragraph about a poor office clerk who's very stressed about impossible deadlines and wants to quit her job, but can't do so because she hasn't found another. Her friends try to comfort her, and they display good communication skills in their conversation.

We twisted it so I was sitting at the desk first, doing paperwork, when my asshole boss comes along and throws me a pile of work, saying ,"I want this on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. I don't care how you do it, it had better be there!" (I nod sadly) After he leaves, an office worker comes along and throws me her stack of work, "Aye! You got more experience, right? Do this work for me!" and then continues talking on her mobile phone, making plans to go shopping right away. I'm left staring at the pile of work on my desk, and then my phone rings. My two best friends want to meet up for dinner. I agree after some talk, arranging to meet them in 2 hours. When we do sit down to talk and have dinner, I look half-dead and stressed as heck. My friends, worried, ask me what's wrong, and I whine and sob about my asshole boss and my bullying colleague, and how I want to quit but I can't.

My whining and sobbing became too real. It started to take over me, eating away at the good mood I had before. Tears were threatening to escape from their ducts, my face was screwed up in a pained expression. The class was silent, I was left depressed.

I've been discovering a different genre of music from that of which I usually listen to. It just suddenly occured to me that I never took the time to listen to Taylor Swift, so I searched for a playlist of her music, and was pleasantly surprised.
It's a lovely mix of country, rock and pop. Nice how the banjo fits nicely there, you know how I like the banjo! I'm also starting to think she's kinda cute.. dang.

A day with a difference- elation hung in the air, something magical, something real.
A month, our first month together, has come and gone. Though it's only been a month, I feel like I've known him for a really long time. I know why, too. We meet quite often, so we spend a lot of time together, though it never seems to be enough. I find myself unwilling whenever it's time to go home. The only comfort in going home is to sleep in my bed, surrounded by my stuff and boards.
I don't think we had many problems or obstacles in our first month. Disagreements come with every relationship, but I try not to have disagreements or arguments. I know more problems will arise as time goes by; secrets, insecurity, boredom, this is why we have to avoid them.
Now, we shall tackle the second month to come :)

We met up for a concert tonight, for which we were both very, very late. We managed to catch the last few songs, just. When the violin squeaked, I suddenly burst out laughing but, luckily, I stifled them until they subsided. I always seem to laugh at the most inappropriate moments! I slid further down in my seat beside D, hoping nobody else noticed my laughter, my shoulders still shaking.
We made a bet two weeks ago. The loser would have to give the winner a massage. He bet that the instruments would play out of tune, I bet that the soloist would sing out of tune or badly. The bet was neck-to-neck for a while, then they tuned the strings out-of-tune, and the violin broke.
I conceded defeat.

You know, sometimes, my favourite part of my day is just to cuddle him. Like I've said before, his company is almost as comforting as milk. He wore my flower (photo above) in his hair today for a brief moment, and looked SO lovely! It's a wonder why he wasn't made a girl in this lifetime. Sometimes, I think he's even prettier than me!

Not that it's a bad thing, love :D

Friday, 30th April 2010

I did a study on maggots once.

I tried growing some. I hung a big piece of raw pork in a wire cage from a tree at the field beside my block, but they never came. I mean, there were a couple of flies and lots of ants, but the maggots never came. There were a few eggs, I think, but then somebody cleared the cage off the tree and I never saw it again.

I was doing a study on maggots for my 'O' level Art exam. We were always encouraged to use first-hand sources, instead of copying from photos off the internet. Since my attempt at getting a first-hand source didn't work out, I had to draw the maggots off the internet. However, I did use some first-hand sources, like the pig's heart I bought from the market, dissected and drew.

No, I don't consider myself sick and twisted. I just really like Biology. There are two things I absolutely can't stand; worms and zombies. Both appear in my nightmares often. Both of them just freak me out completely, apart from the other numerous things that freak me out.

I've noticed that more and more things are freaking me out, be it a said thing, a seen thing, a heard thing or a done thing. There are so many now, although I can't seem to list them off the top of my head.
These few days have just been too stressful, with insufficient sleep every night, the dizzying highs and the depressing lows of everyday life, studies, love, family, other general things. I feel myself lagging behind, feeling exhausted, helpless, doubtful. I yearn for the headstrong side of me. Where is it hiding?
Sheer willpower is needed here, to pull me through hell once again.

Why, then, why is it hiding?