Wednesday, 1st September

Where is my comfort?

I feel like such a hypocrite.
You know how I always talk about giving and sacrificing, about how society is so selfish and cold? Have I been kidding myself all these months?

I was never this selfish before. Why have I turned out this way?
My face is hot, the tears are gushing. Disappointment undisguised, maybe I am human after all.
Human like every other selfish person in this virulent world.

I never looked at death this way. "If it's time to die, it's time to die" just doesn't cut it anymore. This emotional roller-coaster is threatening to engulf me, suffocating and bloodthirsty. How does one survive?

He slammed the door, which suddenly reminded me of Dad. Dad has taken to kicking it, although he has been rather sweet these few days. I haven't been home for dinner in months. I'm chasing after freedom but it still evades me. I don't know what to do.

Help me, help me.

Saturday, 28th August 2010

I had so many things I wanted to type about tonight, but when I watched this, all the petty little things just went away.

My tear ducts have been working overtime lately, and the taps wouldn't stop gushing when I watched this about 5 minutes ago. This emotional roller-coaster is undoubtedly exhausting, but I'll deal with it somehow.

Watching this video just filled my blood vessels with warmth, my heart with love, my mind with smiles. It just struck me hard, because it stands for what I believe in:
The elderly only grow old if they let themselves.

I don't know how many times I've reflected on this. Society has always categorised us, making us conform to the standards it sets. You think I haven't been told all that before?

"So old already, why still watch cartoons?" "How old already, still play with toys?" "LEGO is only for babies, you know?" "Aren't you too old for this?" "Where got girl have short hair one?"

Who's to say that adults can't play with toys, that teenagers can't watch cartoons, that girls can't have short hair, that the elderly can't play in puddles?
Childhood seems so far away now, but that doesn't mean I push it away, thinking that I'm "too old" for something. No, childhood is to be embraced.

You never know when life will end.

Tuesday, 24th August 2010

Le promesse che abbiamo fatto,
amore mio,
sono quelle che abbiamo terremo per sempre.
Mi manca il tuo abbraccio, mi manca il tuo bacio.
Te amo, caro miele :)

Sunday, 22nd August 2010

She thought she was going to die of sorrow.

They shot through her veins, in her blood, poisoning her. Her tears rolled ceaselessly as she tried to keep it all in.
Bitter, bitter sorrow.

And yet, as the night went along, what had to be said had been said, what was left to forgive was forgiven, what there was to love was loved.
Indeed, love is the greatest power, not death.

She is now at peace.

Thursday, 19th August 2010 (2)

She stood precariously at the edge, waiting, just waiting for that shove. A little one was all she needed, her heels teetering on the concrete ledge. The others flew high above her in the Spanish square, filling the air with a chorus of chirps. She glanced down again.

It was quite a drop from the top of the bell tower. The sun, friendly and warm, embraced the square with his rays. She felt the warmth on her soft feathered back while she pondered.

It had happened before; her wings always saved her from the fearsome jaws of death. She had leapt off that same bell tower too many times before, but her feathered, light but strong structure always opened against the wind beneath her, swooping her away from the cold, hard concrete so far below.

She smiled.
They won't be able to save her this time.
Only hours ago had she chanced upon some string at the market square, abandoned but still good. The woolen twine was short, there was just enough to tie both wings together. Siesta was always the best time of day, when the stallholders closed their shops and left behind scraps of food to pick at. Sweet melons, small strips of meat, even berries that rolled astray.

The others were picking at them now, feasting greedily. The chirping subsided as they ate, to a murmur barely audible. She got ready to leap, and then sprang forward in one swift movement.

Falling, her wings struggled in their bound state, straining at the twine to break free, but no, the string, however flimsy it seemed, had the strength of a thousand hands. They bound her and they did so tightly, and she fell to the ground, her eyes wide open, her pupils smiling.

Thursday, 19th August 2010

The hospital was breathtaking.

Breathtaking not just in the sense of beauty, but in the environment and order as well. I visited it for the first time today, and got to see the wards. Long, seemingly endless corridors stretched everywhere I turned, the smell of pee lingered in the air. Countless rooms were listed at the lifts, there was even a mortuary.

When I entered the wards, I saw countless beds occupied by elderly patients, each one with a different diagnosis, different drips hanging from above, different machines attached to them. The ward was dim, but there was a constant soft beeping of the heart-rate machines. I tried to imagine a whole team of doctors and nurses rushing around with patients in their beds, wheeling them at top speed to the emergency unit. It all looked so orderly, it was difficult to imagine chaos.

I felt like I was suddenly sucked into "Scrubs". It's strange to think that I'll work in that environment one day. In any case, I hope to be the surgeon or the doctor, not the patient.
I think I was like a child in a candy factory, a child who had never eaten any candy. My eyes wide and my mouth agape, I stood in awe of that beautifully intimidating place, lost in thought, lost in fantasy.

It was a much-needed jolt of inspiration, thanks so much.

Tuesday, 17th August 2010

"Yet he was doing a fine thing- proving on how little the soul can exist. Fed neither by Heaven nor by Earth he was going forward, a lamp that would have been blown out, were materialism true. He hadn't a God, he hadn't a lover- the two usual incentives to virtue. There was no one to watch him, nor did he watch himself, but struggles like his are the supreme achievements of humanity, and surpass any legends about Heaven.
No reward awaited him. This work, like much that had gone before, was to fall ruining. But he did not fall with it, and the muscles it had developed remained for another use."

I had a fantasy in my youth. Perhaps I shouldn't call it that- it was but 2 years ago. I imagined an ideal world with nobody else in it, leaving me free to walk the Earth, wherever I pleased, whenever I pleased. I would live with animals, and I would wear whatever I wanted. I could have gone nude, had I so desired. The freedom is appealing in a way that this world could never deliver to me.
Freedom is gone, banished from society to the pits of earth and stone. Fatigue eats away at me as I type, my senses falling asleep one by one.

Going.. Going.. Gone.

Monday, 16th August 2010

"It was all so complicated.
When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations." -'Maurice' by E.M. Forster

In Secondary School, sex was a sacred topic, unbroached, undiscussed. It amused greatly those who attempted to open the discussion, which was always more or less dismissed as rumours. It seemed that the people around me then never really sought to satisfy their curiosity by hankering after literature in the subject.

Strange, that.
Were people simply afraid? And, of what? One shouldn't have to fear another on this Earth, even though society took upon itself, the role of banishing anyone who disagreed with its views, behind bars.

We are at the age when we experience many new and unfamiliar things- things that scare us, things that delight us, things that upset us, things that excite us. Yet, what keeps us from going insane are things we call "belief", "values", "trust", "morals", "respect".

What does it really mean to respect someone?

Wednesday, 11th August 2010

Freedom.

Freedom means so many things to so many different people.

To a prisoner, freedom means walking freely, without being under the scrutiny of guards, to be able to do what he wants, when he wants, to be able to walk where he wants, sleep when he wants, talk to his loved ones without having to fill out forms.

To a child, freedom means playing whenever she wants, to be able to have fun and yet, be taken seriously instead of being pushed aside.

To a student, freedom means studying to her limits, to juggle studying and other activities of interest, to be able to go home to acceptance, support and comfort.

To a teenager, freedom means being trusted by his parents to manage his time between friends, studies, love and life. Freedom means staying out past curfew and going out without being questioned.

To a working adult, freedom means having a job he enjoys, to be able to chat with his peers, colleagues and bosses. To be able to keep within schedule comfortably, to separate work and life at home.

To an elder, freedom means being young at heart, to walk without a stick, to have joints that don't swell and hurt with every move.

To a foreign citizen, freedom means the ability to vote and have a say in the country's well being, government and decisions. To be recognised as a country's own, instead of someone different and apart.

To a couple, freedom means the ability to love without reserve, without factors such as race, beliefs, gender or age. To be able to see each other without fear, to be able to stick together after arguments, to be able to accept each other instead of trying to change.

Freedom.

Tuesday, 10th August 2010

Tu sei il vento che sussurra, che canta agli alberi
che fa frusciare le foglie di gioia
e fa i fiori a danzare al suono brillante

Nei giorni di pioggia si tiene in mano un pennarello
per disegnare un sorriso sul mio viso
di tenere la mia mano nella tua, come ci troviamo ad affrontare la vita insieme

Vieni, rimani con me
aiuto quando cado
per voi siete la luce del mio mondo
il mio amore
il mio amore

Sunday, 8th August 2010

"God won't send you to hell just because you don't convert."

"Yes, he will."

Saturday, 7th August 2010

She had left him with no choice.

Her pleading look intensified as his vice-like grip tightened around her neck. The skin there was turning purple now, and she felt the hand of her husband, her lover, there. Her eyes rolled backwards as she tried in vain to gasp a last time.

They had gotten married at 30, they were secure. Through thick and thin with each other, both husband and wife had gained the wisdom they sought. After having spent 40 long years together, fate saw to it that she broke her spine.
The paralysis devastated her; and he sacrificed everything to stay by her side.

She rode around in a little grey wheelchair, unable to move, unable to chew. All that was left was her ability to hum, and so he would hum tunes with her while she was awake. He played her songs on his keyboard, resorting to singing whenever arthritis set in. On rainy days, she liked to sit by the big glass window; the rain calmed her, it was like a veil that shielded her from the world.

As more time went by he felt it- the pull of death. Fatigue often left him weak and pale, even though he did his best to remain upbeat around her. His joints swelled up so he could fit his ring no more, but chose to remain silent about his condition for another 4 years.

The doctor had told him. He went to the hospital after the pain got unbearable. She was sleeping downstairs, tucked up cosily while the rain poured outside. He was so afraid she might see him whenever his bed was rolled past her door.
He was afraid to tell her, he couldn't. He, alone, knew what she needed, what she wanted, what songs she liked to listen to while sitting by the window. He had spent every day there since she was admitted, and couldn't bear the thought of leaving her behind. He knew it was coming to an end, his life, it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"No," he whispered, "I must tell her."

He chose a perfect day; the calming rain poured outside the huge glass window, no lightning in sight, no thunder to be heard. All there was, was the soft pattering of raindrops on the ledge. He brought a blood-red rose, snipped of thorns and trimmed of half its stalk. The light grew in her eyes as he presented it to her, thereafter planting a kiss upon her lips.
How beautiful, he thought, as he gazed at her lying sweetly on the bed. Pushing the bed towards the window, he took care not to drop the flower, and whispered into her ear the calming words she wished to hear.

Then, came the time to tell her.

The light in her eyes slowly dimmed as the words escaped from his mouth, his tongue flicking deftly as he spoke, of his greatest fear- that he would die first.
The thought of his lovely wife sitting and lying alone day after day was too agonising to bear, let alone comprehend.
He had to do it, it was now or never.

And so he reached out to her frail neck, "I'll see you again soon, my love."

The rose fell to the cold, hard floor as the light disappeared.

Friday, 6th August 2010

T'was a performance, after all.

People saw me, cheered for me, and then told me they saw me. Hmmm. Dr Khin was there, too, and so were several other lecturers.
Thank you, thank you.

The difficult Mandarin song got cut in the end. T'was simply too difficult, I say! The other one was relatively much simpler, with repeating verses and chorus. Good for people like me. Several of our other songs got cut, too. I wasn't happy about that; that's just plain mean. Mr S was just being.. himself.

I'm at the freezing library again, waiting for D. He did say he would meet me at the library, but, as his voice lesson starts at 4pm, and it's already 3.16pm, I think he might've left to attend it. My hair is still sticking up in an odd/awesome fashion (courtesy of Charlie, thank you!) and I have eyeliner around my eyes. I could wear it today because I didn't sleep well last night, which resulted in a both-side double-eyelid.

CSAS got cancelled again, therefore I have no more reason to stay at school after taking the Biomolecules Practical Quiz. Thought D would be here, so I came to the library. I was surprised when I couldn't find him sitting at the computers, so I guess I'll just borrow someone's phone to call him, and then head out.

They're playing 'Glee' over the speakers now, gotta go.

Wednesday, 4th August 2010

Never has a PIPC quiz gone as right as this one.

It went more right than I expected, although, I have to admit, I worked quite hard for it. Stayed up till 2 this morning doing a summary sheet for the two topics tested, and then awoke at 10am to do questions and revise.
I don't want to say it went absolutely all right, because I think the results won't be fantastic, but I really think there may be a chance at passing it!
If I pass, Mr Teong will be pleased.

At TP library again, waiting for my Love to arrive. I have yet to memorise the darn Chinese songs for the performance on Friday, so feeling a bit nervous, but I think my body deserves a break from stress. I panicked so much today I awoke at 8, then at 9, then finally at 10 when my alarm rang. By the time it rang, I was feeling so exhausted but my heart continued to race, disallowing me to fall back to sleep.

I miss the comfort of Oscar Wilde. Not too long ago I had time to read about Dorian Gray and his picture, now I can scarcely find the time to do anything. Painting. Drawing. Customizing. Cooking. Baking. Playing. Composing. Writing. Learning. Practising.

Make time? Don't make me laugh.

Tuesday, 3rd August 2010

Some random thoughts for the night-

I felt weird after drinking the thick 'teh' at supper with the same few choir people tonight. My stomach started churning and I had such the urge to puke. Later on, I experienced a bit of giddiness and felt like my heart was racing. Must have been something I ate or drank.
You can imagine how horrible the bus ride home was for me.

Quiz tomorrow, God help me. It's PIPC, I promised the teacher I'd try really hard for it, and I aim to at least get a pass. However, life's been hectic these past couple of weeks, and these few days there's been choir every night.
I've just been told that my ABRSM exam is on the 20th of September.

Felt a bit unloved tonight. I think it was another small-scale mood swing. I have no idea why, nobody displayed any less affection towards me. I just felt unloved. It's just me, I guess.

Now I know why all my lecturers who hold MDs and PhDs are single. The workload in the medical academic path is beyond insane.

If people never knew what love was, would they feel deprived of it?

Sunday, 1st August 2010

See that small clearing over there?
That's where I want to live.

I want to be free to taste the morning dew, to feel the falling leaves in my hair, to hear the crunch beneath my feet. I want to spend hours in a day just lying on the cool grass, gazing at the beacon of light across the sky, and sit by rivers to write poetry, songs and stories.

The stress is coming back.

It hit me so suddenly, like a bucket of cold water right in my face. I need to start now. I have so much to do before the holidays. I need to summarise my notes from my general notes, for every topic, for every subject, so I can study with ease during the 1-month break. Thank God for the 1-month break, Thank you, God.

3 quizzes- Biomolecules Prac, PIPC, CSAS next week, as well as a Biomolecules lab report due on Monday. No more tutorials, so that provides some relief and time for me to study. Choir practices on Mon, Tues, Wed, performance on Friday.

So much for the last week of school, huh?

Saturday, 31st August 2010

Stop shoving things down my throat.

Everybody deserves the right and freedom to love.

Friday, July 30th 2010

Rich, dark, smooth, sensual, orgasmic

CHOCOLATE!

It feels like the day is never going to end.
It was a 3-hour Chemistry morning, and the few of us went to the library to hang out. They sat at a table to chat and study for a test they missed while I went in search of Art books. My hunger was almost satiated after combing shelf after shelf of books on painting, drawing, sketching, even anatomy art. I say almost, only because I couldn't find any books on charcoal drawings.

Damn it.

We skipped BM since we were already late for it, awaiting the 2-hour CSAS lesson later on. I can't believe we actually give in and patiently wait for it. I can't believe, even more, that there's still CSAS 2 next sem!

My blog post today sounds strangely asshole-ic.
Maybe I'm angry or something.

Thursday, 29th July 2010

I was devastated upon seeing the results of my Maths Quiz 2.

The 3/25 I got didn't reflect the effort I had put in. I was downcast for a while, but then, I took a deep breath, picked up my pen, and started taking down all the corrections.

Life goes on.

I did, however, shove the test paper to the back of my book, where it shall remain until I am alone and away from the danger of school. People here are secretly judgemental, I'm beginning to realise, and it does somewhat pose as a threat, a little bit. There's a certain standard expected of a Biomedical Science student, and I'm clearly not meeting it.

BUT.

Life goes on.
I need to work harder. It's possible, so don't argue, Xiulin. You've been faced with this before. You lived through it once, you'll live through it again.

Please, world, let me study.

Wednesday, 28th July 2010

I feel like I need to hide somewhere.

Today is the OC quiz, which I haven't really studied for. I mean, we did have a small class quiz on those 3 topics several days ago, so I have more or less skimmed through the notes, but I know that simply isn't enough.

Here I am. What am I still doing here, typing on my blog? Only minutes ago was I searching Google Images for screenshots of Tom & Jerry cartoons. I think I miss the comfort of childhood. I used to be able to stay home and watch Tom & Jerry for hours on end, and then go to the playground to play games and run all over the estate, with nary a care in the world.

Now, it's all school, work, school, work, quizzes, more quizzes, the weekly choir practices, and other exhausting activities. The temptation of procrastination is so real, so evil. The urge to procrastinate, even productively, is so strong. I find myself itching to write Braille or learn new music or even go to Esplanade library to study, just study for the entire day.

I used to do that a lot last year, when everybody else went to school. I didn't get in anywhere, so I just armed myself with my Maths textbook and a blank notebook, and headed to Esplanade's dance section. I liked the sun on my back while I was in the freezing library, sitting on the floor, so I could feel its warm embrace while I studied.
It had become my comfort after a while, a haven, an escape from trouble at home.
I'm a good girl, I try my best to be. I want to study, but there's just no time, no time to make time.

Saturday, 24th July 2010

My Dearest Rabbit

I wonder if this is what Rabbit Heaven looks like? I came across this photo on flickr.com and just couldn't help wondering. It's one of those emo nights again, alone to think, alone to wallow. You just sweetly nudged yourself into my thoughts again.

I'm sorry it's been so long since I last wrote to you. Did you get the letter I burnt for you in January? I hope it got through, though they probably have internet access where you are now. It just feels more personal when I write it myself, in handwriting, you know?

Rabbit, life has been terrible these past few months.
Everyone is so ahead of me, I've been failing a lot of subjects, especially the Chemistrys. Dad and Mom have been especially hard on me. I feel like I'm suffocating under all this pressure. Why do I try so hard to live up to other people's expectations when it makes me unhappy? I've been struggling so hard just to keep my head afloat, to carry on with life and not go insane. You were always here before to listen, Rabbit. You could tell when I was sad. I miss your every kiss and hug, I miss your every twitch and lick.

I can't stop the tears now, Rabbit, they flow endlessly for you. My attempts at choking them back aren't working. Your photos still hang right beside my bed, your sweet face always watches me as I drift off to sleep every night. Please continue to watch over me, protect me, guide me to make the right decisions.

I miss you every day.

Love
Xiulin

Friday, 23rd July 2010

Fate is most cruel to lovers; they never have enough time.

Society opposes them, age threatens them, time is selfish towards them. Curiosity, lack of balance, insecurity, heartbreak. Wisdom feeds their hungry souls, coupled with humour and understanding. Years go by and bones begin to creak, walking sticks emerge and dentures made. Yet, the test of time never changes.

"If all of society treats you differently, at least you'll still have him."

---------------

Dad shot me a few lines of poison early this morning, "You don't respect me, nevermind ah, I also won't keep my word, I tell you. You better come home before 12. Next time you support yourself, I'm not going to support you."

Strange how everytime he says something like that, I have less and less respect for him. At the moment, respect on the respect-meter is at around -23. Respect has to be earned, and nothing has been done to earn it. No manners, no basic courtesy, no kind words, no kind deeds.
And, when has he ever kept his word?

Wednesday, July 21st 2010

Life's stresses are catching up with me. Soon we will be neck-to-neck.

Quizzes, quizzes and more quizzes.
I had a HAP quiz on the Endocrine System today, and I was so worked up about it, I forced myself to study for it during some Chem lecture. I think the stress got to me, I heard the orchestra play the intro of "Ombra mai fu" in my head, and then my mouth started singing. There I was, singing Handel's beautiful work of art, that earned me weird stares and strange smiles in the lecture theatre.

Aced the quiz, but then I had to continue working for my Maths quiz, which is tomorrow morning, after the first tutorial. After that, I shall have to continue working on my HAP quiz on Friday.
My God, My God, it never ends. It's taking a toll on my body and state of mind. People go insane like this!

If it weren't for Love's sweet, warm hugs and reassuring kisses, I'd never make it through.

Monday, July 19th 2010

I feel horrible;

I want to go home.

Sunday, July 18th 2010

"You don't need to impress me."

I don't know how many times I've heard that.
She said that to me before, but only for me to be who I am and do what I do.
What about him?
What did he mean when he said that to me?

I was supposed to be asleep an hour ago, and yet, here I am now, typing away on my blog. I thought it was a good night, but the call didn't end on a good note. What's more, I don't know what went wrong, but continue to be sub-consciously plagued by it, incessantly eating, nibbling away at my mind.

Why do I allow it to get to me?
I hate it that I'm so damned sensitive sometimes. This is why people take drugs, to desensitise themselves for fear that twisted thoughts would inevitably drive them insane, plunging them into the sinister depths of irrationality.

Saturday, July 17th 2010

Butterfly Heaven had a new addition today.

She was walking back to the house after sending him off, an orchestra playing happy tunes in her head. Peaceful melodies, and then suddenly, she saw vague movement on the ground. She bent to take a closer look.

It was a caterpillar, half-squashed. It had probably been partially squashed by someone or something that had fallen on it earlier, but the other half still bravely tried to move. It struggled to walk, and failing, stood still in pain. Poor caterpillar repeated this several times. The girl wasn't sure what to do. Her feet first took her several steps ahead, but then her heart took her back.

She looked around for something, a leaf, a twig, with which she could cover the caterpillar to end its pain.She finally found a dead leaf, brown and dry, and placed it gently over the caterpillar. Then, she raised her foot to kill it.

Was it murder?

Friday, July 16th 2010

I don't even know why I'm here.

This is ridiculous. I can't believe I pulled through an entire day of Chemistry lectures, including the Biomolecules quiz 2, and still await the CSAS tutorial at 4pm. CSAS has always seemed a waste of time to me, even though it's true that some of the skills are used in daily life. Surely there's no need to study in detail and, heaven forbid, teach the subject?
No wonder our CSAS teacher is a little crazy.

I actually came through the morning all right, after having gotten about 7 hours of sleep and a good wholemeal ham-egg-and-cheese sandwich for breakfast. I absorbed the lectures and secretly enjoyed them a little bit, heh.

It rained quite heavily several hours ago, the shower posed as a comforting veil between the world outside and I. I like the rain. I like water. Perhaps that's the medium in which I want to die?
A lot of my stories involve large bodies of water. For example, there's this deaf man who was depressed at a party, sick and tired of not being able to hear sounds and people when they talk. He is alone at the poolside, and slowly begins taking off his shoes and socks. Then, he slips into the water and opens his eyes, gazing at the world from beneath the surface. He lets out a laugh, and then stops. He realises that he can hear his own laughter underwater, so he continues, laughing with the simplistic pleasure of being able to hear, until he drowns, a smile painted on his lips.

Wednesday, July 15th 2010

One thing I really love in the morning is my beloved iPod plugged into my ears.

My ears would then soak up the beautiful, happy melodies of Mozart, like they did this morning. It's simply delightful, I tell you. I don't know how many times I've wished I were alive 300 years ago.
"Le Nozze di Figaro" is playing as I type, I have this strong urge to learn the Zaide aria "Ruhe Sanft". I always get the urge to learn new music when my exams are round the corner, both academic and vocal. I guess it's a form of procrastination for me.
Or an escape.

It's freezing here in TP library. I can't fathom why they have to make it so darn cold. Is it so that our fingers will freeze and we can't type at the computers, thus forcing us to study instead? Even my bottled water has turned cold. Now a whole crowd of students or tourists have entered the library and are clicking their cameras in my direction. (My God, why didn't I dress nicer today?!)

Thank God for the 1-month break before the major exams. I'd die if there were just a week before that. I need, need to drill and set everything into my brain before I sit for the papers, or I can jolly well say goodbye to any future in the medical field. Everyone around me seems so smart and yet, I know that some people just study harder. What scares me is that the people in my course love to study. They actually do it on a daily basis, spending all their free time studying. It's their comfort, their escape, whereas mine are art and music.
Am I different?

I kind of like studying, too, especially when I finally discover how to solve a problem or do a question, but not to the extent of preferring study to sleep. I don't get sufficient sleep as it is.

My rashes are finally clearing up, although still sensitive. I'd been down with a terrible sore throat, followed by a bout of rashes over the past week or so. The constant headache is a given, considering how I don't get enough sleep every day. Finally felt so terrible that I went to a doctor to get it checked up and took an MC on Monday. Spent the day sleeping.

I wish I could take a week off to do all the things I've wanted to do for months but haven't had time for, like painting, drawing, scrapbooking, looking for a new blogskin, designing T-shirts, learning new music, playing instruments, cooking and writing.
Now, I have an average of 3 tests per week, all of them counted in the GPA. New pieces keep coming at choir, and I have to learn them all. Lecture notes keep piling up, assignments thrown unmercifully in my direction.

I feel myself crumbling under the pressure and yet, ironically, this is the life I chose, the one I wanted. Was I delusional? Everyone expects the best of me, each one wants all of my time.

Love keeps me happy, music keeps me sane.

Saturday, 10th July 2010

Life's little things are gifts to be thankful for.

Wednesday, July 7th 2010

What is the greatest obstacle in love?

Some people say status. In olden times, people of a high status in society could not marry peasants, no matter the depth of love. So they eloped. Some people say gender. Though there are more heterosexual marriages, there are still homosexuals that want to get married, but countries ban it. Some people say religion. In certain religions, one has to convert to the religion in order to be "allowed" to marry one's significant other. Some people say it's love itself.

You know, suffering in pain is one thing, but suffering for love is another altogether. There's a taste, a sweetness to it, under the bitter layers of emotion, the numbing arguments, the jade-green jealousy, the salty tears. This might sound masochistic, but I kind of like suffering for love.

Secretly.

Monday, 5th July 2010

How can I not be thankful?

I have so many people who care, my own birthday cake, gifts, countless birthday songs and wishes.
I am blessed, blessed, blessed.

The birthday songs were sung both solo and chorus, the gifts were given in the form of pyjamas to bedroom slippers and junk food. I also received shopping vouchers and money which, I assure you, will come in handy.

No gifts, wishes or courtesy from parents, but suddenly it doesn't matter to me so much anymore. I've spent too many years hoping and waiting for them to say something nice and frankly, I've given up. I'm so thankful I spent the whole of 5th July out at school, far away from them.

My careperson actually didn't want me to go for choir practices temporarily until the sem exams are over, because of my horrible term test results, she wrote to my choir teacher and everything. For a week, I was worried, because I want to go for choir. I love choir. Plus, we have concerts to do! Today, I mustered up enough courage to fight for my case, respectfully but firmly, and won. She says if I want to go for choir, she fully supports my decision, but hopes I will learn to manage my time better so my results won't be so terrible next time.

I'm seeing my CM tomorrow, and shall wear my painted long sleeved shirt with the Oscar Wilde quote, "Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination."

Lastly, a big "Thank You" to all my friends and loved ones for making me feel so special on this day. I like all the songs, presents and wishes you gave me, the compliments you filled my head with, the jokes you made with me today. I am thankful, I am thankful.

Special thanks to Mr. Beautiful- You make me happy just by being here. :)

Saturday, July 3rd 2010

It all began when my mom burst into my room to tell me repeatedly, in her super high-pitched voice, that my tuition teacher was here. Apparently, I had the days mixed up, I thought she would be coming on Sunday.
So I dragged myself out of bed to sit through 2 hours of Chemistry. Time seemed to pass so slowly, it even dragged on longer than it should have. Luckily, it had to end eventually and I hurriedly took a shower and got ready to meet Mr. Beautiful.

I took the MRT down to his house, where he had a cake waiting for me. I almost started tearing when I found out he only had an hour's sleep, preparing everything. I wished for 3 things before blowing out the candles, in the hope that one of them would be fulfilled.
The next activity involved the popping of highly-pressurized balloons in his room. Frankly, I was afraid to do it, for fear that the rubber would snap at my skin. I've enough injuries already. However, it proved to be all right, and I popped them all, out came many little red hearts with messages scrawled upon them.
"I love you because...."

We spent the day in each other's company, and had a cheap and good dinner at Bedok, where we ordered a bowl of curry chicken noodles, wanton mee, fish soup, and two cups of sugarcane juice. We walked around to "aid digestion", and then parted at the bus interchange at about 11pm. I have a feeling there's still more to come after this celebration, heh.

On the way home, I saw a family of cockroaches. They were in a circle, their feelers twitching, the children were eating grains of some sort. It was very, very cute. Cockroaches they may be, but they're a loving family.
--------------------------

And to my Mr. Beautiful-

Thank you for buying me a cake. Thank you for taking the effort to cut out so many hearts. Thank you for taking the effort to cut out the shirt stencil. Thank you for writing music for me. Thank you for losing sleep for me. Thank you for cuddling me. Thank you for loving me.
I love you, too. :)

Friday, June 2nd 2010 (2)

There were tears tonight.

I thought it had been resolved, but then it popped up again, for goodness knows what reason, and frankly, I'm so fed up and tired with it.
I'm not looking forward tomorrow.
I'm not looking forward to Sunday.
I'm not looking forward to Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday.

Oh, Cruelty, why do you torment me, even when I am at the edge, at the brink of collapsing? I feel like running away or jumping in the ocean. Please, Cruelty, won't you leave me alone? Won't you let me have a happy birthday this time?

Rabbit, Rabbit, I wish you were here.

Friday, July 2nd 2010

It's been a sad day.

The only thing keeping me sane is music.

Turning 19 next week.
In store for me is a meeting with my choir teacher and careperson, discussing how I am to stop going for choir until my sem exams are over because frankly, my results suck. Then, on the next day, I am to see my course manager for "encouragement", pertaining to my dire term test results.
Damn it.

Bad things always seem to be magnified on my birthday. I mean, I open my eyes in the morning and sniff the air. It always smells special on special days. And then, people start shouting, nagging, saying mean things. Next, come the tears. Sometimes I wish my birthday wouldn't seem so special to me because then I'd be less affected by the bad things that happen on that day.
It seems to me that I'm always more sensitive on my birthday somehow. The week got worse just as I thought it was changing for the better. I guess it took a U-turn along the way. This isn't karma, this is pure cruelty.

However, I do believe that this cruelty will one day benefit me, like it always has. Sometimes I wonder why my life has been so damn harsh, but then I think about each step and what I've learnt, and yes, I've learnt a lot and come a long way. This is just another step to success.

This is just another step to success.
This is just another step to success.

Monday, 28th June 2010

600 posts, sweet dreams and a heart of stone

Every year, on my birthday, something always makes me cry.
Will it be the same this year?

Saturday, 26th June 2010

I tried, I really tried.

I spent 1.5 hours trying to study tonight, to no avail. I showered, got dressed warmly, and headed to the Mcdonald's across the road for some night-time studying. People were watching the World Cup on an LCD TV outside. I ordered a hot Milo and sat at a table inside.
I plugged in my earphones and started on my work.

Every once in a while, the whole crowd outside burst into cheers and screams. I felt strangely fatigued, my eyelids were threatening to close. I came home, disappointed in myself, but convinced that I need more rest.
It has, after all, been a truly emotionally exhausting week.

Must be the burn out.

Friday, 25th June 2010

I wanted to shrink down to ant-size and lose myself in childhood memories.

When I was in Primary school, I had this little brown velvet pouch where I kept my money and cards. Since we were always required to watch videos in a dark, cold room, I found comfort in treating it like a pet, keeping it warm in the skirt of my pinafore, stroking the velvet occasionally.
Maybe I missed my late hamster, Hammie. After she died, I felt so lonely.
All I had was my velvet pouch.

I need to lose myself in some Oscar Wilde now.

Thursday, 24th June 2010

Now is certainly the best time to be a snail.

As quoted from an earlier post,
"Every inch goes so slowly, to travel around the world would take eternity, and yet, it perseveres, unrelentingly, never losing sight of its destination. No matter how rough the road, no matter how many thorns to manoeuvre through, it never gets frustrated, it never gives up. It just keeps going, going, ever so slowly, always with a goal, travelling further and further each time. Patience, perseverance, courage."

I failed a couple of term tests. Chemistrys and Maths. I guess I could easily blame it on the fact that I never took Chemistry or A-Maths before Poly, but I can't keep doing that. There's a way to catch up with the rest of the class, and I'm jolly well going to do it or die trying.
What kind of cardiovascular surgeon fails Chemistry and Maths?

No, no way. I can do this.
Everyone is being so darn sympathetic towards me because they know I did badly. Darn it, I will not take this! I shall give you all no reason to pity or look down on me, no.
The only reason I'm not stewing in my juices of depression is because we started the topic on the cardiovascular system today. It's lovely, lovely, lovely.

Now all I need is more time.

Monday, 21st June 2010

I find myself changing to suit other people's wants and needs.
I find myself ignoring my own to keep everyone around me happy.

Whose motto goes "Life's just too short to keep trying to live up to other people's expectations"?
I'm such a damn hypocrite.

Got called up by my careperson today for my terrible termtest results. I was expecting it, but it still made me feel awful. Course manager wants to see me, not to scold me, not to do anything bad, but to encourage me or something. That didn't make me feel less awful, though, it pretty much ruined my year.

The next part is even more awesome. Since we have to see the course manager within booked slots, we were offered 5th or 6th July, after school. How fantastic is that?

I feel horrible, horrible, horrible.

Sunday, 20th June 2010

I'm so lucky. Why can't I be thankful for all the things I have?

Why am I complacent? Why do I take for granted all the basic necessities in life? I have clean water, sufficient food, clothes, bags, stationery. I can go to a school that has clean classrooms, nice desks and air-conditioning, and yet, I dread it.
Why?

Why can't I want to go to school, why can't I have the urge to spend hours studying and learning? Why can't I be thankful to have textbooks and shoes?
Why am I so damn ungrateful?

Thursday, June 17th 2010

The stars lean down to kiss you
And I lie awake and miss you
Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly
But I'll miss your arms around me
I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here

I'll watch the night turn light-blue
But it's not the same without you
Because it takes two to whisper quietly

The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers
Are right where yours fit perfectly

I'll find repose in new ways
Though I haven't slept in two days
'Cause cold nostalgia
Chills me to the bone

But drenched in vanilla twilight
I'll sit on the front porch all night
Waist-deep in thought because
When I think of you I don't feel so alone

I don't feel so alone

Wednesday, June 16th 2010

You know, snails are to be admired.

Every inch goes so slowly, to travel around the world would take eternity, and yet, it perseveres, unrelentingly, never losing sight of its destination. No matter how rough the road, no matter how many thorns to manoeuvre through, it never gets frustrated, it never gives up. It just keeps going, going, going, ever so slowly, always with a goal, travelling further and further each time.

Patience, perseverance, courage, the acceptance of almost-certainty that someone will come along and step on you. Ugly, but able to see beauty in the darkest, murkiest corners of the Earth.

Could I be a snail?

Tuesday, 15th June 2010 (2)

We apologise too much, too often for things we didn't do.

Society is coiling its youth too tightly round its little finger. It refuses to expose them to the world, it finds comfort in keeping them under a quilt of rules and regulations. Though illogical and puerilely pusillanimous, they are laid down for fear that the younger generations will grow up to be different.
Different.

Why do people fear being different? Why should people fear being different? Unique? Why must one conform to society's standards, rules and regulations? They are stupefyingly ridiculous. And yet, we give in, all too easily, to their wants that override our needs. Will I let them change me?

Am I strong enough to stay myself?

Tuesday, 15th June 2010

This day is going slowly
This day is going fast
All the time in the world and yet
It's not meant to last

How do I tame these restless feet
And crush the icebergs of my dreams
Swamped with endless piles of work
Nothing is as easy as it seems

Monday, 14th June 2010

Fatigued, overworked. It's so tempting to give up.

It somehow became my job to delegate the work for my Biomolecules assignment. It wasn't bad at all, actually, I kind of enjoyed it. Somebody had to do it, and I made sure my e-mail to the group didn't sound too glum.

I am, however, glum as can be. I will be turning 19 in about 20 days, and I am not the least bit prepared. I'm dreading the release of my exam results, for I am pretty sure I'll do quite badly. Very badly indeed. The nightmare of school will then start all over again in a dreadful routine, a never-ending workload and new things to learn. It's at times like these I wish I'd go crazy, for people who are mad are oblivious to the fact. Ignorance is bliss.

I shall spend tomorrow catching up on sleep, doing my assignment, learning the choir piece and painting a shirt. Have these strange urges to do large canvas paintings, draw anatomy and bake.
Bought my first two pairs of skinny jeans today. Am I swakoo? :D

Sunday, 13th June 2010

Assignments over the holidays?

My course can't even give us one week free after the exams to wind down before bombarding us with assignments and group work. What's a measly two-week break from a super hectic lifestyle at school?

I awoke at 4.30pm today, energised but worried. I found out the night before that there were assignments to be done during the holidays, and I spent two hours today frantically looking for group members to form a group with, only to be denied because the group has reached its capacity limit. I have found another group member, but we have yet to find two more.
What I would give to run away right now.

And, Honey, I miss you.
The last time I heard from you was about you cooking ginseng chicken, this morning. I can't help but wonder what you're doing now, and yet, refuse to interrupt whatever you're doing by calling. I miss your voice, I miss your lovely smile. I miss your warm hugs, your soft kisses on my cheek. Tomorrow seems such a long way to go, till then I shall have to occupy my time with work that must be done.
My Love, my Love, mere hours are days without you.

Wednesday, 9th June 2010

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get to sing at a place like this.

Daydreams are filled with large water-bodies, opera houses, cold climates, ancient ruins, talking artwork, awesome gadgets, flying, antique typewriters, ciacconas, beautiful cottages, and all the live and dead people I've ever wanted to meet.

Let's take a look at the list:
-Oscar Wilde
-Elvis Presley
-Bob Marley
-Charlie Chaplin
-Mozart
-Beethoven
-Johnny Eck
-Joseph Merrick
-Philippe Jaroussky
-Franco
-Rabbit
-(etc)

I haven't been spending much time at home due to the hectic holiday schedule laid out for me. Over the past few days, I've had choir practices, a stayover and performance. It was kind of a stupid idea, seeing as we rarely sleep at these stayovers, let alone sleep well. Performance was the next day, but I managed to get by on sugar and adrenaline alone. Before and after the performance at some hotel, my mind totally died. I found myself staring dreamily into the vague distance. Mrs Headache didn't let me off, either. She and Mr Fatigue have been rather harsh on me. This must be why I feel like I'm about to collapse into a permanent sleep.
Or, at least, for 15 hours.

I do, however, find this spending so much time away from home a little comforting. It's a relief not to have to face undesirable characters and attitudes, unsightly scowls and glares, unkind words and deeds, around the house. Though it's not total freedom, it's better than being forced to stay at home all day, everyday with these people.

Should I ask for a phone for my birthday, or give it up?
Having a phone suddenly becomes a bad idea when you have to be in constant contact with people like my parents. Instead of widening our limits, technology has set us more. Yet, we cling helplessly to technology, unwilling to let go of something dragging us underwater.
What a curse.

Saturday, 5th June 2010

I feel strangely self-conscious carrying this DVD case around.

I finally got my hands on "Farinelli" again, V was kind enough to lend it to me. She also lent me Mika's "The boy who knew too much" and "Hoodwinked".

Farinelli, or so he called himself, was the most famous castrato who ever lived. Women literally fainted when they heard him sing. What is it about men with high singing voices that women love so much?

Personally, I find it really... desirable. Sexy. Exciting. How else can I describe the feeling? I just like it. It's human and god-like at the same time. They were divas, charismatic, charming, vocally flexible, full of stamina, and had the ability to sing for more than a minute without breathing.
In this present day and age, castrati have more-or-less become extinct. I think they made it illegal or something, so now we have our male-sopranos or our countertenors.

It's a bit sad, though. I really would love to have had the chance to watch a castrato in concert. Maybe someday soon someone would invent a time machine, and it would take me back at least 300 years.

Friday, 4th June 2010

Could I have saved him?

Maybe, if I had fed him more honey water, maybe, if I had been there more to encourage him, to give him the will and strength to live on. Maybe I could have spotted the signs earlier and prevented it.

The vet said it was Wry Neck, and that he had accidentally hit the stem of his brain on something hard. Poor Rabbit had a floppy neck, a weepy eye, and kept thrashing and rolling around so violently that I feared for him. Frustrated as he was, he still had the heart to kiss me.
I followed the vet's instructions, I awoke early every morning to feed him his antibiotics through a syringe, I dripped honey water into his little mouth drop by drop, I cuddled and stroked him and kissed his cheek every day. My heart ached, but there was nothing else I could do.

It gave me a fear of the Nervous System, I found myself afraid of the brain and other components. Tonight, on the bus, it suddenly occurred to me that I never knew much about Wry Neck, so I looked it up on the internet.
Wry Neck is an immune disorder caused by protozoa (microsporidia) that resides primarily in the kidneys in many (if not all) rabbits. When the immune system is compromised, the parasite replicates (by injecting spores through a polar filament into the host cells) and begins to migrate from the kidney through the bloodstream to the brain where it develops cysts.

My dearest Rabbit, are you still here?

Thursday, 3rd June 2010

I want to escape this place; I want to run, run, run away.

Where is my comfort, where is my home? It's certainly not where I am, for I do not feel the least bit comforted. Anxiety has gotten past my security guards, Disappointment following closely behind. My guards are desperately trying to stay alive, against the cruel adamantine swords and spears of the enemy.

Mutton bit Mom early this morning. She was making scissor-snipping movements at the dog, and he just growled, barked and bit her hand. She screamed. I was, however, in the shower, and way too sleepy to be bothered to rush there and exclaim. My eyes were half-closed, my mouth was filled with foamy toothpaste, my hair in a mess.
Mutton doesn't like Mom somehow. I guess he feels constantly threatened by her. I don't blame him. She just kept screaming at the dog, about how she was going to send him back to his previous owner. She kept shoving her dog-bite wound (a medium-sized purple bite mark) in Dad's and my face and exclaiming about it in her super-high-pitched, super-irritating voice.

I feel so out of place sometimes but, then again, nobody ever said family members had to have the same attitudes, views, thoughts, acts, words, manners. It all just seems so insignificantly minuscule, unworthy of time and attention.
I want to get away from here, away from these people, these subjects, these harsh words. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back at Venice. Every time I day-dream, I'm flying. And then, reality grabs me back, threatening to engulf me in a wave of nails.

Venice. How many times have I stood at the water's edge? How many times have I gone back in my dreams? How many times have I closed my eyes and felt the crisp, cool morning air on my skin? How many times?

A one-way ticket to Europe.

Wednesday, June 2nd 2010

I don't hate Maths,I don't hate Maths.

I will master it, I will master it.

Goodbye, 4.0 GPA.

After downing a medium carton of "Fresh Milk", I sat down with my girl friends at Itas, where Amirah pulled out a book titled "Why men lie and women cry". One of those dating books on the mysteries of men and women, you know?
So. They were taking sex appeal tests, it made me laugh so my spirits were lifted immensely. They stopped stewing in their own pathetic juices and rose towards the sky, in the hope of flying over yellow sunflower-fields and windmills 'neath an azure blanket.

All the worries of log functions and differentiation are now yesterday's. It's time to move on, Xiulin, look to the future, don't dwell. Don't dwell.

------

Kathleen-

I'm sorry we didn't attend the Adidas Sundown even though it cost us $45 to register. You did say you were ill, and when I insisted on going at first, I was being selfish. The oil spill happened just the day before, and it would have been risky for both you and I to run under those conditions. I shouldn't have convinced you that the oil spill could be ignored, you know, breathing in harmful fumes is bad enough normally, what more while exercising?
I'm really sorry we couldn't do that run together, I had been looking forward to it for months. I was excited about it. I wanted to run it with you.
And I'm sorry I pulled out. I hope you understand.
I hope you come 'round.

Xiulin

Tuesday, 1st June 2010

I feel my perfect GPA slipping away with every test I take.

It's possible, so why can't I get it? Why, why, why?
My PIPC (Inorganic & Physical Chem), Oh My God, was absolutely horrifying. Abominable. A blue whale at the bottom of the ocean, poisoned, stabbed, and doomed to die a painful death.
Swearing was seemingly incessant after the paper.

I would have jumped into an ocean myself had it not been for my CSAS (Communication Skills for Applied Science) paper, which, I must admit, was not bad at all. It's like English, only the more annoyingly "proper" version, in relation to social behavior of human beings. I used to tell myself I don't like English, it just so happens that it's a subject I can do all right in. Now, I like English and can't stand CSAS. We all feel it's such a waste of time and effort. What's worse, it's graded!
Even pop quizzes are graded as part of the GPA! I think this is incredibly unreasonable. If it's going to be graded, at least tell us about the quiz first.

This morning, I had my Human Anatomy & Physiology test. It was.... so-so, I guess. I mean, I couldn't even finish revising everything, let alone get it down perfectly. I think I didn't do too badly, but let's hope they'll be extra lenient and give "pity" marks. I really want good grades. It's not as if I don't try my best to work hard, it's just insufficient time, you know?

Even back when I was still doing my 'O's, I was never this stressed. Everyday is such a dreadful repetition of the last, with me getting less sleep as the nights go by. I feel so tired and listless, and yet there's still a paper the next day, and the next, and the next...

Tomorrow, I will take my Maths & Stats paper. You know, I used to hate Maths. I failed it for 10 years before I finally realised that I was able to do it. It did, however, take a hell lot of effort, but I had time then. Now, I don't, I barely have time for anything, but I try to squeeze them all in. I guess I kind of enjoy doing so many things, but sometimes it gets a lil too much. All I want to do is crumple up and sob till the trees whisper.

Let no man give up, let no tear be shed; He shall be strong and continue down the path of self-fulfilment. Or self-destruction.

Oh, honey?
Happy 2nd, we now proceed to begin our 3rd together! We will give and take, teach and learn, speak and listen. Surely, there will be times of frustration and melancholic feelings , each one is a challenge set for us. Love and honesty are on our side, should we let them, they would surely fight for us.

“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring.” -Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)