In a situation so normal its painfully mundane clues to the answer I’ve got, already have made quite plain as if frustration’s not enough to drive me insane Why has it gone then, you twit, where is my damned brain?!
I’ve gone all weak and stupid, I have all but one exam to take and its freaking me out. What is up with this? Honestly, I have it easy. Knowing that makes me want to punch myself in the face. You lousy stupid baby, GET A GRIP.
I never thought I was very creative, my imagination resided always in too many boxes. In my mind I was just someone who occasionally tried to draw or enjoyed framing bits of life, but I wouldn’t say that it was it was fueled by an infinite bubble of whirling ideas in my head, definitely not.
Only now do I feel a strange yearning for an arty output. I want to draw and paint and write, I want to bring my camera out and bother people with my creepy shots. I want to watch movies, I want to read an adventure, talk with some juice and sing. I re-read my blogs in an attempt to feel again the feelings I managed to put in words or an image.
Thanks to UWA, I’m being intellectually stimulated in ways I lacked before and I adore it. I never thought I’d feel unbalanced. Who would’ve guessed?
Its been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I never expected to fully understand it with the missing of creative expression. I love school, but I can’t wait to put all that has inspired me in my own forms, my own artistic pieces.
Traveling is the deservingly expected box in everyone’s bucket list.
It is a significant component in my mind that ties in with having a fuller life. When I regularly reevaluate how I’ve been living, I (metaphorically) stick a needle in my thigh for the countries I have yet to explore. I count the money I could’ve traveled with, but instead placed in the ‘wrong’ projects. In every experience, did I gain enough to offset the monetary value? Each day I’m old enough to see more, there is the prick of a needle because I haven’t quite yet.
Then I compare, a habit that always leaves a sick aftertaste. I have an idea of what I’d love to do, knowing this I feel obligated to begin. She’s younger and he’s there, I maybe could have done more too if I’d figured it out a little earlier, dug a little deeper. Yet, I hold back for reasons that are good and understandable, but it remains a task feeling sure whether the validity still holds.
“Some people continue to defend trickle-down theories which assume that economic growth, encouraged by a free market, will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice and inclusiveness in the world. This opinion, which has never been confirmed by the facts, expresses a crude and naïve trust in the goodness of those wielding economic power and in the sacralized workings of the prevailing economic system. Meanwhile, the excluded are still waiting.”—Pope Francis, Pope Francis understands economics better than most politicians (via absurdlakefront)
“Did you know, you can quit your job, you can leave university? You aren’t legally required to have a degree, it’s a social pressure and expectation, not the law, and no one is holding a gun to your head. You can sell your house, you can give up your apartment, you can even sell your vehicle, and your things that are mostly unnecessary. You can see the world on a minimum wage salary, despite the persisting myth, you do not need a high paying job. You can leave your friends (if they’re true friends they’ll forgive you, and you’ll still be friends) and make new ones on the road. You can leave your family. You can depart from your hometown, your country, your culture, and everything you know. You can sacrifice. You can give up your $5.00 a cup morning coffee, you can give up air conditioning, frequent consumption of new products. You can give up eating out at restaurants and prepare affordable meals at home, and eat the leftovers too, instead of throwing them away. You can give up cable TV, Internet even. This list is endless. You can sacrifice climbing up in the hierarchy of careers. You can buck tradition and others’ expectations of you. You can triumph over your fears, by conquering your mind. You can take risks. And most of all, you can travel. You just don’t want it enough. You want a degree or a well-paying job or to stay in your comfort zone more. This is fine, if it’s what your heart desires most, but please don’t envy me and tell me you can’t travel. You’re not in a famine, in a desert, in a third world country, with five malnourished children to feed. You probably live in a first world country. You have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. You probably own luxuries like a cellphone and a computer. You can afford the $3.00 a night guest houses of India, the $0.10 fresh baked breakfasts of Morocco, because if you can afford to live in a first world country, you can certainly afford to travel in third world countries, you can probably even afford to travel in a first world country. So please say to me, “I want to travel, but other things are more important to me and I’m putting them first”, not, “I’m dying to travel, but I can’t”, because I have yet to have someone say they can’t, who truly can’t. You can, however, only live once, and for me, the enrichment of the soul that comes from seeing the world is worth more than a degree that could bring me in a bigger paycheck, or material wealth, or pleasing society. Of course, you must choose for yourself, follow your heart’s truest desires, but know that you can travel, you’re only making excuses for why you can’t. And if it makes any difference, I have never met anyone who has quit their job, left school, given up their life at home, to see the world, and regretted it. None. Only people who have grown old and regretted never traveling, who have regretted focusing too much on money and superficial success, who have realized too late that there is so much more to living than this.”—Did You Know (via karibu-nyumbani)
For a society that hates being labeled on letting loose with some alcohol, it irks me to no end when I am judged for not drinking. I don’t like alcohol the way some don’t like spinach, so what? It doesn’t make me a prude, or a child, or no fun. I’d drink a celebratory birthday shot for the person I’m celebrating, but the rest is up to me, like how choosing to drink is up to you. Respect it both ways.
Met Josepg after what feels like ages, laughed a lot, talked a lot. As usual I trudged behind as he shopped, me talking loudly about his future child’s poverty if he kept spending on shirts. We had a funny moment where I thought this other guy was him so I just stood there waiting with my phone out and he suddenly appeared to drag me away, wondering why I was just standing there for that long. It was hilarious.
Oh and he said this
Me (at some decorations) ‘How is pink in any way Christmassy?’
Josepg ‘Maybe because it’s an off-red.’
Josepg ‘WHAT I’m trying to justify..it!’
I still can’t decide whether or not he made sense.
Then I had school which was really interesting, and after Amanda and I (unsuccessfully) searched Tiong Bahru plaza for some eclairs. Oh but it was our last lesson with our tutor Danny, that was sad. He was good. It is sad.
Now it’s 4am and I shall sleep. Here’s to the rest of the week being good too! I pray.
I was rude to Ari just now when she messed up my room/was jumping on my rocking horse because she was awful to me this morning in her very regular ways. I’m so sick of it. She is rude and horrible to specifically me, and although I feel guilty I am no less sick and disgusted by her behaviour. Also she (rudely) consistently messes up my room. Ugh, how is she even this way? I pretended to violently whack her head in a vicious arm-swing while she was playing the computer, baaaaaaaaaah it is testament to my improved temper control that I resisted making contact.
I try to drink in every bit of Christmas spirit I can find in this country, though its getting increasingly difficult to harvest anything genuine from the abundance of commercial intentions. Nothing irks me like ‘HITACHI’ glaring underneath every set of Christmas lights.
Studying is great when information is smoothly understood. As an added bonus too, now that I’ve been practicing, my handwriting significantly easier to read! Now to actually understand the questions I have to answer…..
It took years for me to achieve any level of self esteem, but my confident self is so arrogantly disgusting it rips off all self respect. Which leads to hating me even more. I don’t understand how this could work, I’m all sorts of extreme crammed in a stunted frame.
10m turned 1h25m ‘excuse not to study’ call with Ankita Playing with Ari’s hair cause mine is too short Supper with Keane and Joel, Mum joined us eventually 'Who is eating who is eating I'm hungryyyyy!!'
I planned to study tonight so obviously everything is ten times funnier than usual. I’ve laughed myself to hysterical tears and sniffling to two retold stories and quite a few gifs, this being one of them. In the midst of my choking/giggles I’ve decided to procrastinate still more (at 12.10AM) and play a bit of dress up for no one but myself. It is a FANTASTIC night.
both outwardly in conversation and in my own mind. Depending on whichever situation or topic, the voice in my mind changes in tone, accent, speed. I speak fast and eager in expression, to what I believe in, what I am determined to find out and what I plan to do. I actually have goals and at this point, talking is the closest I can get to these imagined dreams. I have so much longing that there is constant chatter, always visuals being conjured to how I’d be, how I’d look and react, what I’d do. I want to tell stories, those I’ve built to become and the foundation of them, consisting of what I’ve already dug up. I’ve had great pleasure in having really good conversations in the past three days with Nicole, Ankita and Michelle. All of which ended sooner than I’d prefer, but I’m really glad I had all of them. More to come, I hope!
“October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.”—J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (via aurelle)
The weathered hand dusted it’s webs and shone it’s way through, Lighting paths with an asked for, but now hurting, glare. Shards of ice melted through the ‘healed with time’ heart, now leaks out of the eyelids- as tears. Foreboding stirred by a painful past Circles painfully with the vulture’s call.
I need to figure out why amongst two great people in insightful conversation, I hesitate revealing what I truly want to do. What’s the taboo here?
(Amanda if you’re here and want to know, (you were one of the two people mentioned here) ask me gently five times and I’ll eventually say it. I would really want to, but nerves obstruct my throat more often than preferred.)