Saturday, 30th October 2010

Would you see beauty in such a face?

Love diminishing, he says, dying, dying.
7 months past.

I couldn't go. There's no closure. The nightmares won't go away.

A quote.

"They are the ones who will stay with you until you die." -Lecturer on the topic of Memory B cells, Immunology.

Who says Science isn't romantic?

Thursday, 28th October 2010

Gnarly trunk, crooked branches,
great big fields of grass,
graceful leaves that fall to the ground,
orange pigment with hues of yellow
and pink, sun-cast sky and
calm serenity,
all there together in the lonely field.

Tuesday, 26th October 2010

I feel tired and a little vicious.

Have been suffering from insomnia for the past few nights, and I feel awful, awful. I was still patient with the world, and couldn't have been more of a good girl than I had been today.

I memorised my scores, studied my subjects, revised my Maths, paid attention in class, held friendly conversations with people, met new people, practised my singing, waited for my Honey to finish his comm meeting to have dinner...
I feel like I've truly exhausted myself.

Yet.
Yet.

Why do I still find myself tossing around all night?

Monday, 25th October 2010

Insomnia befell again last night.
As it did the night before.

Thoughts of you kept me awake.
I thought about us.
Not a wink of sleep.

Not a wink.

Saturday, 23rd October 2010

It was dark there at night.

In absolute darkness, he felt himself shiver. The goosebumps appeared before the sneezing began. He felt cold and lonely and, having eaten his last meal the day before, heard his stomach protest noisily.

Suddenly, he saw them.
They were feathered, winged creatures, flying beneath the surface of the ocean. They glowed. Surely they couldn't fly, after all, they were underwater. Surely?
They continued to move in their flock, wing after wing after wing, their beaks swallowing the slippery fish as they went. The birds continued to fly until they disappeared into the distance, never once leaving the water.

His mind was an ocean.
He was but a drop, and for once felt so small in the vastness of the world. The rocks on the beach waved to him, it was time to go.

Opening his eyes, he found himself back in his room. The screen lit up in anticipation, it had been awaiting him for several hours now. He looked on eagerly, expecting an image to appear. Instead, he touched a hand, soft and warm, that extended from the screen.
It opened in invitation.

Thursday, 21st October 2010

I've seen it before-

The same vacant gaze, the blank eyes with which they see, the open mouth, wet and drooling, the busy hands, the strained neck, the tiresome slouch, the shaking of legs.

Yes, it's the Gamer's Syndrome.

It applies to everything that has to do with staring at a screen. Televisions, computers, PSPs, mobile phones, small hand-held games, you name it, I've seen it. It's been too long, too long that I've been living around people with this syndrome, for me not to notice it at first glance.

The victims suffer from this syndrome in such a way that they enjoy it, and they neglect everything else. One has to be very careful whilst trying to engage in conversation with them while they are gaming, or watching television, for they would kill to continue their task. They would swat at you like some buzzing fly, or simply yell a bit.

This is a very dangerous syndrome.
Beware.

---
Meanwhile, I am rather happy.
The new term is starting on Monday, and I have new subjects, and that means new challenges. I get to stay in choir, which has 2 performances coming up, and I got the Cross Disciplinary Subjects I wanted. Since it was on a first-come, first-serve basis, being kiasu this time worked like a charm.
I'm taking French and Creative Writing.

Both of which, I think I'll do quite well at. I like languages, and I enjoy writing stories.
As impartial as I am towards the English language, here it is, being one of the few languages I'm marginally fluent in. I like to write, even though my characters tend to die. I have "Finding Neverland" to thank for that.
As for French, I kind of like the idea that I'm finally learning it in a classroom setting. It's a rather sensual language, if I may say so, and so deliciously fluid. As a singer I need to know French, German and Italian, and perhaps Latin as well, but the first three are priority. Grade 6 will require knowledge of the beautiful French language, so might as well learn it now. (Grade 5 has been conquered with Distinction!)
If all else fails, I'll be able to survive in France.

I've been learning Braille.
It's such a lovely, anal-retentive language. Every dot has to be in the right place, so precise, so clean on white paper. The language of the Blind. I love how they use their sense of touch for everything, even reading.
It's beautiful, beautiful.

Tuesday, 19th October 2010

Piercings..

Hmm.
Hmmmmm.

Monday, 18th October 2010

I can breathe again.

Over the past few days, I had to go through what I call "over-socialization", which was terribly exhausting, not to mention suffocating. I just felt the need to be alone, somewhere, anywhere else. I keep wanting to watch "Amadeus" but I always seem to face the lack of time.
It is exactly 1am.

ABRSM took pity on me and gave me a distinction for my Grade 5. I made it, although I think I did quite badly in my sight-singing and aural portion. Thankfully, the examiner was a nice man, and (probably) isn't a singer. Thank God.

And to my lovely Rabbit:

I miss you, you cute bunch of fur. Your long, pinkish ears that I like to tickle, your kisses that land even on my pyjamas, your bright eyes that gaze so lovingly. I miss your company; so quiet yet so strong, so graceful and gentle, never questioning, never unaccepting. Such a sweet face, such a sweet nature. Such a beautiful Rabbit. I miss you.

I miss you.

Sunday, 17th October 2010 (2)

I had to endure half-a-tedious-hour of political talk aboard the taxi on the way home.

You know me, right?
I'm the last person on earth who wants anything to do with politics. I despise it. Some of you find it essential to livelihood in society, some of you even enjoy it. I ask myself, how? It's not that I'm an ignorant little twit who hasn't the least idea how to survive in an urban city, I just don't want to dabble in politics. It's not my style.

Politics seems to me to be all about corruption, assassinations, controlling, insisting that people live how you want them to, think how you want them to. If they don't and refuse, you give out orders to the guards and soldiers to capture or kill. Wars start from the smallest spark of the stupidest argument between two people. Millions get killed.
Racism, sexism, homophobia, anything that has to do with someone disliking another for various stupid reasons. Religion, views, skin-colour, clothing, the list is endless.
It's like how my parents would die when they finally realise that most of my good friends aren't Chinese.

Well, go to blazes.
I live the way I want to, and to hell with people who are racist.

To hell with people who think "it is essential for all the youngsters to know about current affairs and be involved in politics". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays only care about their friends and the latest pop-stars". To hell with people who think "youngsters nowadays don't think as logically and smartly as the older generation". To hell with people who think "youngsters are just so ignorant nowadays".

Assholes.

Sunday, 17th October 2010

I feel like disappearing.

I want to get away. I want to be there.
Time passes so slowly now, why can't it fly by faster?

Everyone's around the table, eating now. I feel full and left-out. Is it just me? Maybe I want to be left out. I like these people, I enjoy time with them, they have good humour, they are intelligent. They can hold serious conversations when they want to.

So why do I feel the need to be alone?

Saturday, 16th October 2010

Friday, 15th October 2010

It has its grip on me. Its grip is strong and firm, gentle, but with swift movement can crush me to bloody bits.

I wore my best dress out today. I left the house feeling at the top of the world, and went home feeling like lowly crap. There are new fears. It will be some time until I eat xiao long bao or catch a movie with anyone again.

I hate to cry. It was not therapeutic this time, just plain frustrating. I just wanted to get away, to leave, to go home and hide in my room forever, then I'd probably just starve to death and it would all be over.

But.
I was brave. I stuck it out. I'm so difficult to love.

Oh, Oscar. I want to be there so badly. Away from here, these people, these places, these habits, these fears. What is the price of freedom?

Am I too poor to pay?

Wednesday, 13th October 2010 (2)

You know, the world is hypocritical.

They say love has no boundaries, across race, across religion, across gender, across age, across status, across beliefs, across opinions.

Then, they insist that someone of religion A has to marry someone of religion A, or convert, or the other will go to Hell. They insist that someone of race B has to marry someone of race B, no argument, no questions asked. The people who choose to do otherwise will then be shunned by society, as if they'd done something disgraceful.

I hate people.

To Hell with them. If I love someone, I love someone.
If the world bred across boundaries, there would be no more racism, no more people against a certain religion, because everybody down the line would be mixed equally. Nobody would be able to discriminate against another.
Why would you have to consider if someone is Catholic or Christian before accepting your love for them? Why should you have to think about somebody's skin colour before you make friends with them? Even people of the same religious roots don't like one another.
What have you to say about it? Do you feel the pride?

I feel so sad.

Wednesday, 13th October 2010

Oh, Oscar.

I want to be there, but it seems so far away.

Tuesday, October 12th 2010

I don't have enough good books.

Just yesterday, I dug through my entire storeroom. I found books, all right, but I've read them all so many times before. Well, except the one Harry Potter book I have. I remember trying to read the first two pages but t'was simply too boring, so I gave up on reading it forever.

I've finished E.M. Forster's "Maurice", and Oscar Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Gray". I can't bear to finish his book of dark fairy tales. People around me seem to be reading Jodi Picoult and the Twilight series but I can't seem to fathom why. Worse, some don't even read. Not to say I didn't try, I read the first book of Twilight, and the language seemed to me rather disappointing. The plot was, meh.

I find myself clamouring after more timeless classics or, at least, good fiction. I need good books. I've outgrown Jacqueline Wilson, I'm hungry for something more. I love Jostein Gaarder's work, and Roald Dahl is great, though I haven't gotten round to reading his more adult work yet, apart from "Skin". I want to read more of Stephen Fry's books, they intrigue me. Right now I've just picked up my sister's new copy of "The Life of Pi", and soon I hope to buy some John Steinbeck and the novel "Perfume".

God, why didn't Oscar Wilde write more books?!

Sunday, 10th October 2010

It has come to my stark realisation that I may not end up at the University of Edinburgh after all.

Last night, on my way home, I had a conversation with the taxi-driver about education standards, and I think it infiltrated into my sub-conscious mind. I dreamt about some upsetting things last night.

Early this morning, I awoke to look up admission criteria online. Strange that they consider students with a Poly GPA of 3.0-3.5, while they only take 'A' level students with about 6As or more. However, Trinity College, Dublin, has lower standards, and I actually don't mind going there, too. Of course, my aim will remain Edinburgh, but if something should happen and I don't make it there, I'll welcome Dublin with all my heart.

What worries me is that I'll feel some sort of guilt going overseas. I'm worried, I'm worried. Should 2012 really occur, that would save me a lot of trouble, a lot to think about.
I yearn to be there, far away from here, far, far away from all these people, and being able to lead a life that's mine, to go where I want, to visit Oscar Wilde's grave, to stay at Medical School to draw specimens in my sketchbook till I feel like going home.

It sounds selfish. I have someone else to think about, but I can't help yearning to be there. I hope he can come with me, so we can set out on this adventure together.

Dear God, please help me get past this semester and move on to the next. Now that I know what it's like and what to do, I think I'll do much better than I did. Please help me, God, please help me stay alive through this.

I yearn to be there.

Saturday, October 9th 2010

He climbs up a steep, smooth slope, his feet slapping against the surface. He takes a few steps, and then falls into a dark, moist hole.
"Where am I," he wonders.

*COUGH SPUTTER SPUTTER*

Thursday, October 7th 2010

Feeling so distant tonight.

I find I'm learning to auto-censor my thoughts again. I can live with it, I won't die if I don't say what I want to.

Our body fights so hard to keep us alive, and yet, we abuse it day after day.

When I was younger, I had a fantasy;
My world would have nobody else in it.

If people didn't know what love was, would they feel deprived of it?

"She's silently defiant"

Joy was the only one who gave me a hug every morning so that I would face the day without fear.

Ice cream, fudge and cookies = mudpie!

"She has to be baptised, do you want her to go to hell?"

Monday, 4th October 2010

Feeling... detached.

detached

detached

Friday, 1st October 2010

A few days alone.

She'd time aplenty to think, in a dark room, with nary a sound. Occasionally, a few notes escaped from within her, a constant furrow upon her forehead, her eyes fixated upon the sheets of formulae and questions, endlessly, endlessly doing.

The blood drummed in her head as she racked her brains. Why couldn't she get it? The others made it look so simple, so effortless. It wasn't fair, all the work she put in seemed to slip through the grills like sand. They kept her locked in her own prison.

If only the others knew her secret.