那是个月亮 就是个月亮 并不是地上霜
那地上花瓣 看完了就完
没必要再联想
甚么秋水 怎么望穿
甚么灯火 怎么阑珊
打开门就见山 我见山就是山
本来就很简单 不找自己麻烦
痛就痛 伤救伤
是谁说肝肠会寸断
点了灯就会亮 关了灯就会暗
谁活得不耐烦 哪里来的感慨'
And after the emotions die down, looking at it through formalist eyes....
I do hope everything is that simple. No more reading between the lines. No more guessing of allusions or allegories. No more paradoxes or oxymorons.
Of course, I feel this way after studying hmmm half of half a day of SAT literature. (Spend the other three-quarters slacking... oh dear...)
October 18, 2009
October 12, 2009
skeletons in my cupboard
Feeling existential today. And someone in class commented ther other day in Art Theory Class that existential essentially means in modern words - emo.
More than anything else, the body feels hollowed out; every signal detected in the cranial brain forms echos and loud resonance that throbs against the heart. Resulting in bruises where the scars have been.
For a temporal moment, almost everything is over. For now. The SAT 1 that required concentration, driven by my need to prove for once that I could complete and work hard. The attachment that has been nothing but a nuisance blockage to be passed; in all sense of irony made me out to be a nuisance the organizers wished to dispose of.
In this moment, I pause before I plunge into the deep waters once more, I find myself breathless as the hidden currents swept me away into a whirl pool. Problems, issues and skeletons in the past arising from my recent endeavors, those I had ignored, came over like the waters that swallowed me whole. I didn't find air, I found the burning flames.
The fair attachment was far from expectations, though I'm not sure if its mine or the organizers. It changed my perspectives and added doubts like salt and pepper to my plans.
Perhaps, I'm not as successful as I thought. Maybe, the false facade shows. In the flamboyant, showy display of emotions, and smart witty words, my falsity and shallow emotions stuck out like neon lights in the village night skies. The subtleties of the industry drives me to the wall; I'm reminded of the reasons I left the biennale. The reasons and emotions that I've almost psycho-ed myself to forget( till now), that I was successful and welcomed in the council and my ex-working team.
The managers who saw me as a fly to be swat and to be asked to leave. Indignant, and pride then flared in response refused to be kept in check - my cool exterior was after all not seamless. Sickness, whether real or false entered the stage once more, uninvited but evidently not wanting to leave. Lies and cover-ups that came up in conversations as the urge to blend in and maintain the masquerade.
The regret deftly stirred into the pot as HC students came up to the counter. The has been, could be stood as reminders in stark contrast to my own predicament of counter jobs and factory packing. The regrets and pain that could not be showed and could only be covered up with more lies.
The finishing blow didn't come till, a classmate voiced and second for the first time in my life - the mask that I held all these while. I suddenly realized today the large difference between knowing the facade yourself and having others see it and believe it.
"J, have you hit puberty?" I was wondering her point of this conversation. Then she directed it in the direction of my lack of interest in boys, and I got it. I do have a healthy interest in relationships and love, though rarely in specific males. But, the mask I wore does not have this interest, she is flawless, focused and without distractions.
I answered: "Yes, but I was born without a heart." Sightly truthful, as I didn't put my heart into most of the things I do everyday. All conversations were held for the every purpose of holding them - I never remember details about others, all these being insignificant to me.
The hollowness within me echo-ed out. And kept ringing through the train ride home.
For now. that's all I'm echo-ing here.
I'm going to stop it with productive work. I refuse to drown in this pain, I'll rather drown building a different future. The only problem being: I'm running short on oxygen and strength.
More than anything else, the body feels hollowed out; every signal detected in the cranial brain forms echos and loud resonance that throbs against the heart. Resulting in bruises where the scars have been.
For a temporal moment, almost everything is over. For now. The SAT 1 that required concentration, driven by my need to prove for once that I could complete and work hard. The attachment that has been nothing but a nuisance blockage to be passed; in all sense of irony made me out to be a nuisance the organizers wished to dispose of.
In this moment, I pause before I plunge into the deep waters once more, I find myself breathless as the hidden currents swept me away into a whirl pool. Problems, issues and skeletons in the past arising from my recent endeavors, those I had ignored, came over like the waters that swallowed me whole. I didn't find air, I found the burning flames.
The fair attachment was far from expectations, though I'm not sure if its mine or the organizers. It changed my perspectives and added doubts like salt and pepper to my plans.
Perhaps, I'm not as successful as I thought. Maybe, the false facade shows. In the flamboyant, showy display of emotions, and smart witty words, my falsity and shallow emotions stuck out like neon lights in the village night skies. The subtleties of the industry drives me to the wall; I'm reminded of the reasons I left the biennale. The reasons and emotions that I've almost psycho-ed myself to forget( till now), that I was successful and welcomed in the council and my ex-working team.
The managers who saw me as a fly to be swat and to be asked to leave. Indignant, and pride then flared in response refused to be kept in check - my cool exterior was after all not seamless. Sickness, whether real or false entered the stage once more, uninvited but evidently not wanting to leave. Lies and cover-ups that came up in conversations as the urge to blend in and maintain the masquerade.
The regret deftly stirred into the pot as HC students came up to the counter. The has been, could be stood as reminders in stark contrast to my own predicament of counter jobs and factory packing. The regrets and pain that could not be showed and could only be covered up with more lies.
The finishing blow didn't come till, a classmate voiced and second for the first time in my life - the mask that I held all these while. I suddenly realized today the large difference between knowing the facade yourself and having others see it and believe it.
"J, have you hit puberty?" I was wondering her point of this conversation. Then she directed it in the direction of my lack of interest in boys, and I got it. I do have a healthy interest in relationships and love, though rarely in specific males. But, the mask I wore does not have this interest, she is flawless, focused and without distractions.
I answered: "Yes, but I was born without a heart." Sightly truthful, as I didn't put my heart into most of the things I do everyday. All conversations were held for the every purpose of holding them - I never remember details about others, all these being insignificant to me.
The hollowness within me echo-ed out. And kept ringing through the train ride home.
For now. that's all I'm echo-ing here.
I'm going to stop it with productive work. I refuse to drown in this pain, I'll rather drown building a different future. The only problem being: I'm running short on oxygen and strength.
October 4, 2009
原来爱情从来没离开过， 只是我记得。 你忘了。
there's something wrong with my internet but I'm still going to write this post , hoping that it is unaffected by the eccentricity of my computer's whim. Also because there's a lack of audience and people I can discuss what I have now in mind. Apparently, my future isn't that exciting or important.
After an over-hour long talk with my parents, (almost forcing them more than half the time to face the fact that yes, after everything life --- with my help has thrown my way - i'm trying give it my best for my latest pursuit and if I could study aboard. I would) Though I left the room knowing that they caught little of the things I said, as just I listened little of the things they preached, believed I'm on better grounds. Now I know that I have a budget of 150 000SGD to 180k max for my entire college career. I know for sure, it's not enough for a 4 year education in Brown or in any college in USA, without financial aid.
And the biggest problem I have now is to draw the line between positive thinking a.k.a optimism and the harshness of reality. I did a oracle reading, first thing I came home. The cards, now already familiar to me, came telling me that Brown (my question) would be possible with (1) Believe in yourself, (2) Very soon, (3) with practice.
I truly hope that that's true. Because in reality while the talk by the admission director nearly drove me to tears with the things that I wanted so badly, the people I spoke briefly with did too drive me with tears - of hopelessness that is. Of course, I am not an academic elite. No As. No A levels, No Bs either. No IBs...
MY itunes is playing now.... "my life is brilliant... my love is pure... i saw an angel of that i'm sure.... i won't lose some sleep on that, coz' i've got a plan..... you're beautiful.. you're beautiful, I saw your face in a crowded place. But I don't know what to do. Coz I'll never be with you. "
In all irony, yup. Brown's great. I've plan. But many, would think cause I'll never be in there.
The oracle card read - draw a cross over those who think or say that you'll not be successful, and use your action to prove them wrong. The power of positive thinking.
I will not regret I guess my path and state today, as I told Fanny in the cabbie, sometimes we have to be in all the wrong places to realize how wrong we've been all these while. While yesterday is lost indeed ( with bbqs, escapism and wii noises), I hope today and tomorrow remains in my hands and I'll sculpt it into something before I lose them to the infinity.
I'm little lost and disappointed tonight. This soul hangs, supported only by a truly grateful heart for friendships.
I'm very tired and weary now. This body presses on, driven only by a weaken will to wavering cause.
I'm probably going to sleep later. This sleep lingers, awaited by my IT website due tommorrow, and a vocab list, 4 SAT practises, a letter and thank you note to the admission director, a letter to the transport minister, another letter to NAC, Nadia, an email to Eilena to get designers, a curatorial brief for MOMENTS, my evaluation statement for the proposal. And if I could, I want to finish the The Elements of Style.
A listening ear or hug would be appreciated. Restful sleep would be nice. A time-turn would save my life...
the song ends: "but it's time to face the truth.. I will never be with you..." I hope not.
After an over-hour long talk with my parents, (almost forcing them more than half the time to face the fact that yes, after everything life --- with my help has thrown my way - i'm trying give it my best for my latest pursuit and if I could study aboard. I would) Though I left the room knowing that they caught little of the things I said, as just I listened little of the things they preached, believed I'm on better grounds. Now I know that I have a budget of 150 000SGD to 180k max for my entire college career. I know for sure, it's not enough for a 4 year education in Brown or in any college in USA, without financial aid.
And the biggest problem I have now is to draw the line between positive thinking a.k.a optimism and the harshness of reality. I did a oracle reading, first thing I came home. The cards, now already familiar to me, came telling me that Brown (my question) would be possible with (1) Believe in yourself, (2) Very soon, (3) with practice.
I truly hope that that's true. Because in reality while the talk by the admission director nearly drove me to tears with the things that I wanted so badly, the people I spoke briefly with did too drive me with tears - of hopelessness that is. Of course, I am not an academic elite. No As. No A levels, No Bs either. No IBs...
MY itunes is playing now.... "my life is brilliant... my love is pure... i saw an angel of that i'm sure.... i won't lose some sleep on that, coz' i've got a plan..... you're beautiful.. you're beautiful, I saw your face in a crowded place. But I don't know what to do. Coz I'll never be with you. "
In all irony, yup. Brown's great. I've plan. But many, would think cause I'll never be in there.
The oracle card read - draw a cross over those who think or say that you'll not be successful, and use your action to prove them wrong. The power of positive thinking.
I will not regret I guess my path and state today, as I told Fanny in the cabbie, sometimes we have to be in all the wrong places to realize how wrong we've been all these while. While yesterday is lost indeed ( with bbqs, escapism and wii noises), I hope today and tomorrow remains in my hands and I'll sculpt it into something before I lose them to the infinity.
I'm little lost and disappointed tonight. This soul hangs, supported only by a truly grateful heart for friendships.
I'm very tired and weary now. This body presses on, driven only by a weaken will to wavering cause.
I'm probably going to sleep later. This sleep lingers, awaited by my IT website due tommorrow, and a vocab list, 4 SAT practises, a letter and thank you note to the admission director, a letter to the transport minister, another letter to NAC, Nadia, an email to Eilena to get designers, a curatorial brief for MOMENTS, my evaluation statement for the proposal. And if I could, I want to finish the The Elements of Style.
A listening ear or hug would be appreciated. Restful sleep would be nice. A time-turn would save my life...
the song ends: "but it's time to face the truth.. I will never be with you..." I hope not.
September 28, 2009
Apparently you're supposed to start the essay with a hook. A personal hook.
Try this:
" My life sucks" or maybe "there's no bigger loser than one who reads about loser. guess that make you one.."
Or whatever.
I'm really not in the mood of stressing my poor soul any further. Instead what I really yearn to do is to get bloody, and to rip up my head and with bare hands remove the blockage in my brain and juice it before i empty it into the nearest drainage system.
Stress and angst frustration have fill my lungs to its brim as I can hear the invisible clock ticking behind my shoulder. Time slips by like the passing wind, leaving with little but doubts and regrets.
I swore to NEVER go down without a worthy fight this time.
But like never before, (emphasis: never before) the demons within and in the external worlds unite to test the very limits of my determination and inconsistent persistence ( a paradox, I know)
The many rules and laws of grammar, of structures, or SAT methodology swimming in my clouded head with vague statements that nag at my every phrase or word. The pencil resists the mental flow of my words, refusing my pleas to facilitate thought and writing. Mentally, I shouted "Shut Up" only to hear reverberations of more nagging revisions or work obligations. My bid to the maddening noise lost to me in the noise I seek to silence.
Repeat to me: your english is not that bad. And say this again: You have a mind of your own and sound opinions. Lastly: you are not an ITE student. Oh! I forgot: the 25 minutes you have is over. You fail this essay once more.
Try this:
" My life sucks" or maybe "there's no bigger loser than one who reads about loser. guess that make you one.."
Or whatever.
I'm really not in the mood of stressing my poor soul any further. Instead what I really yearn to do is to get bloody, and to rip up my head and with bare hands remove the blockage in my brain and juice it before i empty it into the nearest drainage system.
Stress and angst frustration have fill my lungs to its brim as I can hear the invisible clock ticking behind my shoulder. Time slips by like the passing wind, leaving with little but doubts and regrets.
I swore to NEVER go down without a worthy fight this time.
But like never before, (emphasis: never before) the demons within and in the external worlds unite to test the very limits of my determination and inconsistent persistence ( a paradox, I know)
The many rules and laws of grammar, of structures, or SAT methodology swimming in my clouded head with vague statements that nag at my every phrase or word. The pencil resists the mental flow of my words, refusing my pleas to facilitate thought and writing. Mentally, I shouted "Shut Up" only to hear reverberations of more nagging revisions or work obligations. My bid to the maddening noise lost to me in the noise I seek to silence.
Repeat to me: your english is not that bad. And say this again: You have a mind of your own and sound opinions. Lastly: you are not an ITE student. Oh! I forgot: the 25 minutes you have is over. You fail this essay once more.
August 26, 2009
the clock is ticking...
my red bull is flowing...
but my adrenaline has yet to kick in....
How is it possible for me to want to slack of so badly, when my 1500-2000 word report is due like tmr, 5 pm in like less than 17 hours time... (well, maybe that really sounds like alot of time)...
But i have to be in school at 9... take 9 hours off the time line... 8hours to completion.. sorry wrong term to use 8 hours to complete....
To me, to red bull, to miracles. Cheers, jeanie
my red bull is flowing...
but my adrenaline has yet to kick in....
How is it possible for me to want to slack of so badly, when my 1500-2000 word report is due like tmr, 5 pm in like less than 17 hours time... (well, maybe that really sounds like alot of time)...
But i have to be in school at 9... take 9 hours off the time line... 8hours to completion.. sorry wrong term to use 8 hours to complete....
To me, to red bull, to miracles. Cheers, jeanie
August 25, 2009
the more enjoyable half of the work... planing.. not doing
Damn the deleted my post....
but anyways I'm still showing off..
Click on the pictures for full impact... While I RELIST my to-do list for today..
- Circles topic in SAT MATHS WKBK, leaving 2 topics and 2 practise tests for the week
- Print Accounting Homework
- 1500 words on Art Singapore Profile and Pers
onal Profile- Prepare for Venue Owner's Meeting tomorrow.
- Prepare for General Meeting (so the slackers can have a title change for once)
and hopefully a good night sleep like tong, who is now sleeping in MY corner of MY bed...
惭愧中崩溃
There something about triangles that drives me nuts.. I've spent the past 3 hours on the same freaking Triangle chapter and still managed a stats of 14/34 wrong, of which 5 are left blank. If i weren't outside in starbucks, I'll be screaming and tearing up the entire god-damm workbook.
I'm taking a breather now, before I decipher how and why the hell - my mistakes are mistakes. I try to comfort myself that slow and lousy work is better than slacking off, something which I would probably be doing if I stayed at home, instead of being here and sipping my already diluted caramel macchiato (however you spell that)
But I still did some things before the bloody triangles. like my schedules are done - FINALLY. Am proud, but it seems insignificant in comparison to the bloody triangle frustration i'm channeling now.
I'm taking a breather now, before I decipher how and why the hell - my mistakes are mistakes. I try to comfort myself that slow and lousy work is better than slacking off, something which I would probably be doing if I stayed at home, instead of being here and sipping my already diluted caramel macchiato (however you spell that)
But I still did some things before the bloody triangles. like my schedules are done - FINALLY. Am proud, but it seems insignificant in comparison to the bloody triangle frustration i'm channeling now.
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