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The writer does not intend to but tends to make silly remarks that make others laugh. Sometimes she enjoys this unintentional trait of hers, and sometimes she detests it. But nevertheless, she loves to laugh at silly things, both good and bad, mostly little silly things, because she finds that life is too short to spend it sulking away. She also tends to be sarcastic with her words because the subtlety of dry humour makes her laugh even more and lightheartedly at those who "just don't get it."

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    Sara - Blogger

    "To thine own self be true"

    Wednesday, January 10, 2007

    From time to time, I experience a condition called "schizoprenia." And don't worry, I mean it in the sense that one of my lecturers gave: "a kind of dislocation of time-space consciousness, a failure of logic, a corresponding crisis of identity/consciousness."

    This crisis doesn't come very often, perhaps once in a a few months? Few years? I don't know, I've lost track or can't seem to remember, but when it does come, I become unnaturally obsessed with one thing or another, like a new sport, new aspect of art, new drama or something like that... something that keeps me going and yet keeps me far from thinking logically about what I should be doing, should do instead of escaping so conveniently. And I hate to see it end, it's just too depressing.

    If people start to tell me "to be true to yourself" or "just be yourself" or "just act naturally," I wonder what the hell that is all about. True to myself? Which self? Which of my many selves do you mean I should be true to? Doesn't the self evolve as one grows up? Does it stay continuous and permanent throughout my lifetime? In fact, sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Grow up, study, finish studying, time to work and the list goes on. What is this "me" I am seeking? Am I seeking it in the right direction? Is there a right direction for seeking the self? What does it really want? What do I really want from it?

    Sure, there are times I think: this is so me. But how long can that moment last before I refute it and turn it 360 degrees around and protest that it isn't me? Perhaps I'm trying very hard to mould myself in somebody else for some reason or other, or perhaps I'm like chameleon, changeable and adaptable to my surroundings, but then how does that make me me? Or maybe being a chameleon means leaching onto other people's selves, that I try to define myself by the boundaries of my friends' selves. I don't know which is scarier - not having a fixed self or not having any at all.

    Something is missing in my life, I just don't know what it is yet.


    1:00 am
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