If only poets would cut out the salt,
Build in more meats and rice,
Stew words and let them simmer,
Boil over and bubble,
Develop an aroma,
I wouldn't feel that incessant urge,
To rub my scroll button,
Like my finger was running on a treadmill,
Away from the screen,
Away from the words that screech,
And scream.
I eat rice everyday, and meat and fish.
Too much salt, does not make a dish.
ting jian dong tian de li kai
wo zai mo nian mo yue xin guo lai
wo xiang wo deng wo qi dai
wei lai que bu neng ying chi an pai
yin tian pang wan che chuang wai
wei lai you yi ge ren zai deng dai
xiang zuo xiang you xiang qian kan
ai yao guai zi ge wan cai lai
wo yu jian shui hui you zhen yang de dui bai?
wo deng de ren ta zai duo yuan de wei lai
wo ting jian feng lai zhi di tie he ren hai
wo pai zhe dui na zhe ai de hao ma pai
It's strange. I wonder if I should even engage in blogging. The temptation of sitting here, writing chunk after chunk after chunk of text when my mathematical sums stare at me over at the other table, giving me glances to provoke guilt, may be too much to bear. I may sleep before I finish that chapter of trigo. I may never manage to finish studying for prelims. I may feel guilty forever, derailed onto a path that I do not want and have no control over. I must accept their control now. I must do as they tell me to, finish my sums and eventually gain release. Eventually be able to control my destiny.
Lots have happened dear blog. Lots that I will attempt to recount in this limited time and space here. It's almost been a month without blogging. Amazing.
Let's start with August. I never managed to pass YY her birthday present. It's already past. I'll have to give it to her in January next year. Or maybe December. I got my Photog prize finally, with the cheque to fill up the yawning deficit in my bank account. Bought a recorder to start playing, and realize my skills have sort of left me in the past week. Where fingers once sure and breath once steady uh left me for breathlessness and unsureness. Played a soprano recorder again (sis's) amazed at how small and close the holes once were. I kept skipping the 3rd hole for the 4th cos I couldn't see it, and it was naturally so far on the alto. But I sound much better now. I think. Taking my sister as a benchmark. Sounds better. Though I've got to learn how to breathe like they do. With minimal gaps in the music. I still take TOO LONG to breathe. And it sounds bad when my breath starts again. a little flat.
I've been mugging with Porshee, who's a really great guy. Handsome and all, and we hang out at coffee club at wisma. (which serves bad iced coffee. hate it. not freshly brewed. Oh the starbucks ice expresso is GREAT if a little strong and uh a little thirst inducing. It smells heavenly!) He's very motivated with studying. thought our rhythm has been sorta interrupted when both of us fell ill this weekend. Hanging out at a coffee club's very fun when there's a really talkative friend and lotsa eyecandy. Saw a few people we know. I survived on Breadtalk cos the coffee's already very expensive when you have it everyday. And had moments of uh not enough bloodsugar leading to sleepiness.
I'm really running my body like a machine now (not today and yesterday tho) mentally calculating just how much and which food group I should be eating for lunch based on what kind of snacks I've been having. Etc Etc. Bought mugging foods to bring to school so I can raise bloodsugar and carbo when I'm studying through the hols and the stalls aren't open. Just going to enjoy the last few moments in the school, remember all those memories. Remember all those PEOPLE. No matter what or how they've been now.
Someone tried to commit suicide in my condo today. Got lots of good pictures of her perched on her window with one leg swinging out, but never having the guts to go all the way. Some people were really worried for her. Others just wanted to see her jump. Especially when the SCDF got out this huge inflatable air mattress with a bullseye. still there was a moment of excitement when she saw the mattress and decided to switch windows. The SCDF immediately rappeled into her house from the uppper floor, and grabbed her. And the people below moved the entire mattress, machinery and all to the right window in case she jumps. But all went well. She was saved.
Saved. From what? From herself? If a person is no longer capable of taking care of herself, or no longer even wants to take care of herself, should we take care of her for her? But how do we know what she needs? And how do we know what she wants?
Yesterday I realized how people can cry inwardly. I knew I looked sorta sad, but wasn't much appearing outside. But I could feel icecold rivulets of tears dripping inside. No idea what it was, can't remember anyway. But that feeling.... like everything was frozen inside. Amazing. I think it was how we all grow up, and become all the weaker for it. We get categorized, classified, studying the things that we think we like, but only because we do best in them, and failure is the worst feeling, that overrides love or hate. The simplicity of youth, the classes we had to open our minds, only to have them closed because of things like schedule, things like responsibility, things like work. I wonder how many friends I've lost contact with because of those three above. I wonder if it's all worth it. Because in the end it all comes to nothing. And the only overriding concern in old age, is not money, is not possesionl, but the feeling of satisfaction and fufilment, of being happy with the choices you've made, of being alive, of being unlonely. I'm frankly not very happy with the choices I made. To me, it makes no difference if I'm the smartest of the smart, or the dumbest of the dumb. I just want to feel the world best as I can. And understand the world best as I can. And just live. Simply if need be. And just die. Eventually. One never knows when tomorrow will never come. And one will never know if the present will end.
Anyway to Geraldine (I see no need to call you names), I do think of you from time to time as a friend. And I'm genuinely concerned about your wellbeing. But it's hard to seperate my concern for you and my concern for myself. Especially when they're in such conflicting directions. On the one hand, as a friend, I want to help you as much as I can, perhaps study with you, perhaps talk to you. But on the other hand, I can't deny that the concern for myself prevents me from doing that, as well as my concern for you. Perhaps you haven't gotten over me, perhaps you have. I don't know. And it's a question I'd rather not have answered. But my presence seems to give you certain discomfort, I have no idea what. And your presence gives me certain discomfort as well. Not because of friendship, but of a feeling that you want more than friendship. The undercurrents of jealousy. The spite, hate, impatience, langour, just oozes out. Perhaps it's me too. Perhaps I have nothing better to say to you, than revert to the old tired topics. In fact, I don't know what I'm trying to say here. IT IS all the old tired topics. About how it'll be better for me if I weren't attached to you, about Yechao etc etc. And I'll probably talk about happiness after that. Okay. We'll try and skip that bit.
But my point, and eventually I'm comming to it hopefully, is that you're responsible for yourself. And I want a partner who will be responsible for herself. Don't make other people bear your responsibilities of taking care of yourself. And don't give that responsbility to God either. Blame your dad and mum for having you if you must. They're the ones responsible for you. But not God. He didn't choose to create all of us.
Little religious rambling statement from me:
God had no need to create Hell. (there's no instance of Hell in Genesis) All he had to do, was to create Man.
Someone else's.
And to know that we have not erred.
And to know that we have not died.
And to know that we yet live.
I am happy, curiously discontent,
I know not how this story ends.
But live it as one of many blind.
I know how -your- story ends.
And I know you see all the better now.
