Drowning in essays
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Yup the time of the semester has arrived, much to my chagrin, even though I have been through it many many times already but
still. And I am drowning in the tears of my crying essays.
This part is for me, and for those struggling with me, no doubt some sort of inspirational pyrotechnics to get me going: Live essays...
Breathe, eat, sleep essays.I think I'm losing my stamina. Last sem, I could go on for two whole weeks living essays (literally as well, because everything is done on my bed) and hardly sleeping. But this sem, after clocking like a total of one night's sleep in two nights, I feel like I can hardly function already. It's not just a matter of wanting sleep anymore... I
need sleep. Ugh. Maybe I'm reliving my childhood again, where I usually need at least ten hours of quality sleep to maintain my day. Now I need approximately 9 hours every night so I can be the cheerful, non-ditzy self minus the eyebags and constant yawns and complaints for sleep. Erm, which is obviously not what I'm getting right now.
Not enough sleep equals to what I call the helium effect, first coined by Xiaohui I think, back in the narrative structures days ha. The brain is overworking and high on information, which the body transmits cheerfully and in a most ditzy fashion, often ending up in high-pitched, sonorous laughter that goes like: "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..." or something like that.
Er. And if you're about to say that I'm usually like this on normal days.... I AM SO NOT
LAH. Heh.. I'll be prepared to defend myself on the grounds that I didn't have enough sleep (enough means 9 hours every night which is like never) so just you know. ;)
12:05 am
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Hall of Shame
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
//updated. To do justice to Miss Sexy, her side of the story can be found
here. (Beware of the highly bimbotic intonations though, but check out the mispronounced French words... Ugh, did I mention that they are pronounced the ugly Singaporean way? Heh)
I shall try this thing (a special for this round, but also because I'm such a lazy sot) where a picture is worth a thousand words, and which showcases my "family" in school. Welcome to our hall of shame, in which there are pictures of us, us and more us! (thus a very apt title for this post, because we are probably utterly shameless photo whores :p)
Presenting... the daughters of the family (obviously lao boo, Cat, is holding the camera so she's not here). From left, Sexy aka Maggi, Klutzy aka Mandy, and me (er I'm called Funky ha)
Here's me praying hard that my dessert is not going to melt anytime soon and that my present is studded with diamonds (lol). Erm.. why is it served with a spoon anyway?!
"Oh joy! The laughter! The happiness!" Hmm.. Mandy's just jealous lah.
Bling bling... my utterly shameless family has given me something to maintain my utterly shameless image. Ah yes, now I can check my hair all the time whee!
"Nobody, and I mean nobody, shall take me away from my melting dessert any longer ha! YUM"
Our family! In front of the restaurant too heh. Don't we look glamourous? ;)
Our lovely lovely desserts! (Sexy's)
Lao boo's
Mine!
Background: this was the corner we sat in (thankfully). Our shrills and giggles surely produced much ripples throughout the restaurant and would probably terrorise everybody else if we weren't erm.. properly contained. Muahaha
In an attempt to look
kawaii,
lao boo has given in to indulging Sexy's act-cute moments.
Klutzy looking very contented with her dessert. Did I mention that she had TWO sets of desserts?
Our entertainment most of the time: I'm quite sure Sexy must have a thousand million act-cute poses. This is just one of them.
The highlight of the Hall of Shame. HEH. She will kill me if she finds out about this. Save me lao boo!
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I embrace uncertainty, Keats and dreams
Sunday, March 11, 2007
In many aspects, I'm still a coward thinking that I'm progressing towards the brave. Or rather, I seem to indulge being in the hazy area between coward and brave, because it's safest for someone like me. Nebulous, uncertain, negative capability. It's a comfort zone and a space of undefined boundaries, and most importantly, a safe place which does not demand an explanation, elaboration or even an articulation.
And it's ironic how I like to ask questions when I hate answering them myself, not because I hate answering the questions per se, but because I hate trying to articulate myself in a logical way which somehow makes sense to others and even to myself. I especially like to ask questions which I can answer for others or at least have some inkling as to what is on their minds, because the ability to confirm these answers strangely makes me feel a bit more certain of myself. And yet, I can never have too many answers to the same question. Are all the answers parts of the whole big group of
the answer? Or are some false and others true? Are the true ones really true or are they really lies which I tell myself become real? Are the false ones really actually true? Or is the question in suspect of allowing a freedom of openendedness? It has struck me, very uncomfortably or not, that I thrive on these kinds of questions and the possibilities of answers they offer. None of the answers are necessarily wrong, yet none are necessarily right either. The only time they are judged to be so depends on the context they are put in and how they are constructed, from whose point of view etc.
I embrace uncertainty, maybe because I'm a Literature student. Or am I a Literature student because I embrace uncertainty? Ironically, it is because I desire to seek some kind of answer or answers that I embrace uncertainty. But when I've decided on a kind of answer or when such an answer dawns on me, sometimes I prefer to revert back to uncertainty because of the promise it offers. As a child, I used to let my mind wander into imaginary spaces and one of these was life as a fairytale, and I used to wonder why nobody talks about what happens after "they lived happily ever after" and why after a film ends, the characters do not indulge in the happy endings? Is it because happy endings are just allusions to make the reader/viewer feel good momentarily about themselves? Is it because after "they lived happily ever after," they don't in fact live happily ever after but the stories don't tell you that because it's too depressing or confusing for the children? It's easier just being simple and a simple ending entails one straightforward and predictable non-complicated ending and avoids nebulous, multiple and unpleasant endings? Is it because when you have just one formula-for-all ending, everybody can be brainwashed into thinking that this is the case and we should all be satisfied with it?
It's so much easier to block out everything and live in a void of dreams. Unfortunately, this is not what happens in reality. Yet, I often mix dreams with reality. In fact, I often think they run like threads interweaving into one another. Yes, dreams are an important part of my life, as much as reality is something I face everyday. Just because dreams are not part of my waking life does not mean they aren't a part of my life, and I can't just dismiss them because in my dreams, I have seen, smelled, touched things, just as I do in reality, and they are as real to me as the experiences in reality.
So yes, I am comfortable living in ambiguous, free and undefined spaces. In fact, I probably am most comfortable straddling dreams and reality. And so, I embrace them as Keats did.
12:31 am
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