same username. figure out the rest yourself.

the yellow is too addictive, i hope i blog happier things there.

lj cuts are good. because i haven’t figured out how to do a wordpresscut yet.

you might not want to read the part below the asterisk, it’s a lot of crap and not much else.

friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend friend

sources sources sources sources sources sources sources

capische?

i can’t make shape or form
of this new emotion

i need a drive up san francisco bay
and i’d write this song on the way
i’m not sure i belong here anyway
she thinks that i’ve already gone away, gone away

through toledo/greg laswell

holy crap hady mirza and the Shine for Singapore song is playing on TV now why why why

my random giftcard from topshop has $5 in it.

i wonder how it feels to love the same person and never stop ever. how do you not get sick of a person? i am probably sick of myself.

when i went to bugis today to collect the cross-processed lomo xpro 100 film (which turned out awesome i will show an icon made from a picture later) the train back to jurong east smelled of Seoul Garden. no kidding.

i need to do a bajillion FAs but somehow my brain cannot prioritise properly and my head got chewed off today during violin lesson because i did not practise and then i got home all intending to do my bajillion FAs and instead i played guitar.

the calluses i get from guitar make pressing violin strings a bit difficult. somehow i can’t press as hard as i did before the guitar calluses. v strange. and also i can’t help questioning myself if i really really do not like the songs i’m re-playing for re-taking the ATCL or if i just don’t want to put that effort into making myself play them well so i can enjoy them.

eg. i played the Bruch concerto one lesson and i liked it so much that i went home to practise it and i listened to the CD a million times and i thought it was better but then my violin teacher picked out a lot of points that i did wrong and she said that if that was what came out of my practising i might as well not practise or listen to the CD. and then after that i haven’t touched the Bruch concerto since then. nor listened to it.

i just keep playing the guitar and murdering my fingers and growing 9786543 layers of dead skin on them. and when my cousin said my strumming looks awkward i sat in front of the mirror and strummed until i thought it looked like how everyone else does it. and i made myself practise spontaneous song-writing by… spontaneous song-writing.

when was the last time that i saw your face
when i wake up i cannot find my place
lost in space i drift towards the morning light
our love comes and goes tonight, tonight

1. ms lee tells us that rjc and ri are merging and we will be going to RI when we graduate
2. i do not want to be in the same school as sec1 boys who still fix their wallets on bouncy chains
3. high waisted shorts are not to be worn by boys and especially not as part of your school uniform and for the record, they never go with knee socks (unless you live in Japan)
4. in 30 Reasons Brandon who played the guy who liked the girl’s voice has a pretty darn awesome voice, himself.
5. i have no money.
6. $7 buys you ~40 photocopies at Lee Kong Chian Reference Library
7. (6) is clearly a plot by the NLB to steal unsuspecting students’ money
8. they say 8 is a lucky number; i hope i wake up on time tomorrow

I have seen for some time
how everything is changing.
Something rises and acts
and kills and causes grief.

From one time to the next
all the gardens now are not the same;
from the yellowing to the
golden slow decay;
how long that path has been.

Now I stand amid emptiness
and gaze down all avenues.
Almost to the distant oceans
I can see the solemn ponderous
relentlessly denying sky.

-Rilke, from the Book of Images

somehow i managed to spend 3 hours at LKC and only got about ~20 pages of research out of it. and those photocopied pages cost me a precious $5. what the, i know right, ugh.

history better be good.

i feel like i’ve put in an exponential amount of effort into my schoolwork and studies recently than compared to before the mid-year results came out. but strangely, i don’t feel stressed. at best, i’m stressed at an extremely subconscious level. this stress manifests itself at strange times, in the form of tears. either that or i was more emotionally affected by the “final solution” to the “question of the Jews”. at the site of “extermination” the Jews who were about to die stood there and smiled and when they lay down in the pit to be shot they still smiled and said kind things to the people who had been shot but were not dead yet.

in the face of this raw optimism i feel like an inadequate human being. who cries a lot. i teared up in the library and then i stopped reading and looked out of the 7th floor window onto the church below and blinked the tears away. started crying again, i hate being a woman, it sucks.

going back to the topic of subconscious stress, someone texted me to say how strange it was that other people would give anything to be less stressed, but we’re the opposite. it was the longest sms conversation i’ve had in a very long time.

i used to be a funner person. i don’t know if it’s just maturity or the very subconscious stress that’s affecting me, or perhaps the claims my mom likes to make about how i am clearly suffering from anxiety (horrible dreams, constant stomach pains/aches, and hormone imbalances manifested in the form of severe mood swings) are in fact true.

that said i don’t appreciate being given a range of supplement pills to take every day, vitamin c, gingko biloba, primrose oil, codfish something, i thought primrose oil was for old women with menopause or some shit like that but apparently i am equivalent to such a woman.

for now i like being alone. this morning i actually woke up late because i had a horrible dream and somehow i just couldn’t snap out of it. when my mom shook me to wake me up i mumbled something like “go away i’ll wake up on my own” because i sadistically wanted to see how the dream would turn out.

what’s the point? it’s always the same fucking ending where i’m alone on a isolated something in the middle of a very large entity of water or something else where everyone has disappeared/died and i’m just alone. that’s the main point of the dreams. isolation. and if it’s a sign… i’m not going to take it as one yet.

SOLITUDE

Solitude is like a rain.
It rises from the sea toward evening;
from plains, which are distant and remote,
it goes to the sky, which always has it.
and only then it falls from the sky on the city.

It rains down in the in-between hours,
when all the crooked streets turn toward morning,
and when the bodies, which found nothing,
leave each other feeling sad and disappointed;
and when the people, who hate each other,
have to sleep together in one bed:

then solitude flows with the rivers…

- Rilke, also from the Book of Images

i think i’ve surrounded myself with enough things to last me till this latest (last in a rather long time i hope) bout of work ends, PTs, chinese orals, exams.. perhaps the work is my solitude. which is, actually, a bloody depressing thought.

PHOTOGRAPH

And then we are like a river
rushing to a climax of you,
softly so silent and dangerous.

You will gather up these naked truths
in which we lose all sense of shape,
shadows blurring into a dark knight.

And then – O! woman,
undress yourself, for you are a secret;
disrobe,

and then we shall be exposed.

28/7/08

i live each moment as if in a dream, detached from any responsibility whatsoever and treating the impending important events in my life as if they are nothing.

am i someone worth saving; do i have nothing to lose?

and then at times i am surrounded by so many people and i feel like i know no one, truthfully. and i wonder if it’s so important to me that someone let me in completely, utterly, to their world and thoughts and secrets and desires… but then again am i so free with myself?

it’s a bit depressing to be the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on, when other people laugh and share secrets but not with you. i remain on the fringe, stumbling in sometimes, then withdrawing again, but to no one except myself, really. at the end of the day i lie in bed and i cannot sleep and i feel the pain wrenching my insides. the world turns and i go with it. then i wake up late for school.

i am stuck in a cage of me, a cage of you, and everyone else. panadol cannot fix this.

i might actually pass math this time.

sydney is yours
sydney is easy
sydney is on
sydney is too big for its ecological
sydney is primed to
sydney is not enough for medal malleswari
sydney is australia’s first university
sydney is committed to sustained
sydney is the doll is use in all my stories
sydney is accredited by the legal
sydney is in
sydney is a glamour queen
sydney is still no
sydney is steeped in historic
sydney is a truly modern city

pity. the funniest ones were all after the 15th one:

sydney is based on assumptions about people
wow thx i knew i was fictional from the start

sydney is located in sydney
no shit

sydney is assigned to use her abilities to check up on a supposedly suicidal committee operative
so i’m destined for great things like checking up on suicidal people how awesome

sydney is not just about studying
YAR I NOE RITE

and then this big shocker:

sydney is not the sum of its gays
!!!!!11!!!! WOT IS THIS PLZ ‘SPLAINZ NAO THX