Keep Trying...

I keep trying to find a way to string my thoughts into words. But of I kept failing, my voice of reason and communication (though, since when did I have that?) has escaped and seem to not want to come back.

Read the past entries in VARIOUS previous blogs to get back the same feeling of writing once more. But nothing. NOTHING indeed. But like the giving birth process which is always unpleasant and sometimes (only) unproductive.

I'm going to force it. With bad grammar, vocab, maths and little recolllection of chemistry, lit and accounting.

Not that I've been working hard (well not that i've been working). Woke up to 14.04 today, and well till now. Kept going through shows, previews and all that crappy funny stuff on youtube.

Laughing is good for the soul, but just bad for the schedule. So I need to get to the "See Img 1" (Self explanatory) and on my to-do list.
[On my desktop stickies]
To dos:
- Accounting Homework:
- Record ideas about the PVA project.
- Write exhibition brief
- think about thesis topic/subject

And I need to eat, more than a meal a day. So i'm having dinner with van and wym. and I missed (as in did not do) swimming and mediation and walking tong.

And I don't have a clue why i'm typing this out. It's interesting though, knowing that my brain is simply processing the facts, not mixing them with the clouds of acidic fumes of emotions under the beaker.

Death to the slacker, the TV obessed, the bedroom singer, the self-deceived. And rebirth to the slave-driven, the tireless worker and to the invisble hand that smacks me the next time - i reach for my mouse and clicks on youtube, baidu or even type the forbidden words XXXX. ^^

till next time, jeanie

have it your way.

have it your way.
I don't think so... because if I did I would be sleeping... though
I'ld rather have class start earlier so my day can end...

by some kind of error of god, I mixed up my timings and thought class
started at 8.(but of course not, what kind of lasalle lecture does?)

so instead of the usual rush to hell, I'm enjoying my breakfast.. in
burger king, further pushing my affinity for fast food this week. I
find myself in quiet contemplation of how today will turn out....

rare and quite a nice change. but if I had it my way, I wouldn't
change the events but change my breakfast... no stomach for oily
burgers now....

幸福好像可乐中的泡泡，总在跳跃中展现喜悦，却也在空气中轻易消失。
而那剩下的满筐回忆，则是搁置已久的可乐。只余那腻人的甜味，却已失去了幸福的踪影。

more recyling.. this one later then 08.. still applying

仰起首，满天星子高挂了，不停闪烁着却比不上街灯来的绚烂，像我那曾坐拥的梦想，未曾来得及发光便日趋暗淡。

就像那天，和Van一起看芭蕾，坐在草地上的picnic mat指着比星球更闪烁更瞩目的人造卫星。我不想说那是种悲哀，只是人类进化的副作用罢了。为求进步而被舍弃的美丽。

近期，创作渐渐进入了一种呆滞的状态。并不是脑电波，停止了讯息地接受频率，只是慢慢斟酌着。心跳也渐渐有缓和现象。全身似乎只有脑袋在运作，感觉也有些麻痹。

选择，是一种人类的包袱。选择，将这样麻醉的自己浸泡在文字的虚拟，是种心灵的折磨。因为逃避，就好像是带着被捆绑在起点的绳线逃跑，忧虑始终不曾离身。有一天，线会走到尽头。有一天，有人会随着线路从起点找到自己。有一天，我会回头发现自己其实并没有离开原点。

尽管如此，我仍会沉醉在那浓缩的人生中，即使那并不是我真正的人生。我说：故事是 人生的片段剪辑，浓缩。让你来不及笑、来不及哭，却因为种种来不及的遗憾，而更显精彩。

是日子过得乏味吗？可能，那也或许是别人的故事无关紧要，对自己来说旁观的角度，比主角更为容易。很难得，这一次我想放弃众人的目光。

近来那些以往的噩梦，更频繁了。突然发现，原来一年的时间我直往前那么小的两步。

PS: 12.30PM 的房间很美，让人很难离开舒适的床 半步。

Thursday, September 13 07

发现忙碌并不是有效麻木的方法。从开学到现在，人生开始由空白到了一种狂风扫落叶的忙碌。几乎没有空隙，坐下来思考。能入脑的只有一个又一个赶不完的DEADLINE 。然后发现平凡，庸碌是种简单的幸福。每天回家，会开心地听着轻快的歌曲，一面微笑。
可是，人累了会休息。接踵而来的就是沉思。而这小小的缝隙会让那些被遗忘的恐惧、寂寞、悲伤像染料一样的将单纯的生活染成一片灰色的迷惘。

我想我依然没有变。潜在的我不满着目前的生活。该放下的身段，过往、谎言、骄傲，仍会出现在生活的每一转角。我仍会在人多的地方，感到寂寞。或许应该这样说吧，我又再次闯进一个我不属于的世界。
这个学院充满了梦想、和希望。这群人很单纯、很天真，有梦想，有冲劲。刚好，就是我所没有的一切。虽然，他们没有深想未来，却有着无限憧憬。而我呢，标准的麻木、心死、一个没有梦的人，活在这梦想盎然的土地，很可笑，很唐突、亦很痛苦。在这个于自己如此对比的空间，但白说我连呼吸都觉得痛苦。可是，我依然努力，努力生活，努力从头开始。在踏出第一步后，我便知道不能后悔，只能咬牙走完。我试过后悔，所以我知道现在所受的根本无算什么。当然，偶尔还是会忍不住埋怨。

学院真得很大，因为我常一个人走。上课，下课，午休。找不到频率相同的知音，疲倦了肤浅、表面的“朋友”。我想经历了很多，我对朋友有了重新的定义，不想要一群酒肉朋友，那只会让我乏力面对凸现出来的寂寞。

为什么，会寂寞? 是闲着无聊的无病呻吟吗？可能是吧！看了一本美国学生的日记。才发现很多人面对的即使是更可怕的种族歧视，死亡。可是寂寞，并不是我所想要得。这两个字听起来好浪漫，但深陷于寂寞沼泽中，这种浪漫是华丽的包装着一支支腐虫，腐蚀了生活中所有的颜色，一切归于黑白。

这两年的经历，自己从客观的角度分析，根本比鸿毛更轻更轻的事迹。我可以了解，但不能体谅别人对它的轻视。这种轻视，曾让我受伤，因为那是我的世界。就像一孩子不见了唯一的熊熊，而哭天呛地一样。那或许是一件很小很小的事。但那是他的全世界。在人类的世界，不是每样事，都能用实际轻重来衡量，每个人都有自己的小小世界。所以我会用像谈论国家大事的方式来提起我的过往。我想在这一切之后，我想要一个可以呼吸的地方。一个提供温暖、依靠的人。一个坚定停留、不动摇的理由。当然，那是比LV, PRADA , 更奢侈的奢华。

Recycling posts... and found them, still dishearteningly relevant. And found my surrounding merely colder and increasingly faithless.

扫不尽一地零乱心碎， 带不走一箱繁华疲惫。

Received back my old assignments, and found this line I wrote for commentary review I did last year on my 19th b'day. It essentially pretty words. A whole string of them.

But that was something I felt so deeply last year.

Bethany Joy Galeotti- Feel This

It's gotta be this one
Don't have to fake it
You know I can take it
What if I told you
Your tears
Haven't been ignored
And everything
That is taken
Can be restored

Feel this
Can you feel this
My heart beating
Out of my chest
Feel this
Can you feel this
Salvation
Under my breath

It's gotta be
Disguised
Soul and script
Caught in the mirror
What if I told you
That in a sense is yours
And beauty you have now
Is brighter than before
Before

Let go, let go, let go
Let go, let go, let go
Let go