Friday, February 27, 2004

Voice Journey

But perhaps it starts deeper, back to childhood
Take this as your voice, they say
and the young one whose heart was malleable, followed.

And so I stepped into the world of music, where beauty was transient
notation eternal. only, notation is not music.
culture and traditions those of another world, where economics, engineering, finance, science, don't exist.
Only..... ethereal beauty.

Who chases the ethereal? Who values the ethereal? Why it's not even -there-! others say.
"You're mad."

Not so mad, only, idealistic, I would say.

And so it was, for the first 18 years of my life. Choir training in JC, where all my classmates valued achievement only in sports and studies, was not a social ace. I remember it took them 1.5 years to realise that singing took energy. And another month to realise that competitive singing took as much energy and time as sports training. But it didn't matter, because my classmates' validation, though an added plus, was not essential to joy in the music we were crafting in choir.

In between chasing music ideals, I acquired social skills
manners, polish,
learnt that to abuse one's musical skills for persuasion and manipulation
(the hearing, the rhythms, the pitches, vowels, consonants, breath)
to soothe my audience into insensibility, acquiescence to what i was saying simply because of the way i said it,
was wrong
a real perversion of music's innocence.
Don't laugh, these techniques actually work on some people who are young/malleable, and seeing them thus zombified terrifies me, that something I have done has led them to relinquish their humanity and independent logical thought before they even knew their independence.
Not everybody sees it this way. This is only how I feel.
Vocal projection skills are okay.

Always sing straight, say straight.

19 years old
public speaking at work
musical skills suddenly became a very hot commodity there,
to make the speech interesting
which was the idea of my job - to at least be entertaining while working to be both fun and educational too.

Fast forward. Met him. Who knows what he saw in me beyond a sweet voice and a kind heart? Because he wanted only a sweet voice and a kind heart, but told me he wanted so much more. And I gave. I was foolish.

20 years old. Learnt during work again that a insightful content-based speech when delivered well has greater punch. Learnt to not pull that punch, since audience was already pretty old and the speech subject matter was delightfully gory.

When broke up my heart cracked and I stopped singing. In fact ran out of my last a cappella practice after trying and failing not to feel when singing Beatles' "Here There and Everywhere". Simply. couldn't sing. Voice cracked totally when singing love/breakup songs, which is >90% of all popular songs which is what we do in a cappella group. At risk of sounding melodramatic, the music that had lived in me, died. For years.

I realise that in some way, I actually need to sing, or play the piano, to survive.

I should have taken another voice, another mode of self-affirmation. Something not so transient that I can't hold on to its records when down. So when the music died, I turned to biochemistry. And that worked very very well, I was going along fine, and getting into the swing of lab work. And then -he- resurfaced, bringing his discordant chords with him. And I was too distraught to channel away that emotion again. Stored it, and it killed me. Now in process of recovery.

People, are -always- able to think for themselves. They cannot shirk that responsibility by using age, social status, previous achievements, previous sorrows. When all things are done and hurt results, they can only apologise, and promise to sincerely try not to hurt again.

For what it's worth, I'm now looking for a place to do public performance singing again. Choral singing reassures me like few things have, because my intuition on how things sound happens to fit neatly into this form of music.

I realise I am brooding again

I must do push-ups in my room. And then switch off the comp and go study lecture notes. Go out for dinner later, and maybe see choir concert tonight.

Ta-dahh. A chu2 li3 fang1 shi4.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

just came back from running, now cooling down

lunch with J and YX. J reminds me of my counsellor somehow; they both have the same caring yet practical outlook.....

this morning posted comment on -his- blog, checked back after running and realised it was gone. He deleted it? I should have kept a record. Anyway it is pointless to write again to address his very one-sided posting, since he'll just delete it again anyway and waste my time and energy spent on writing.

need to sleep

many many humans operate on different frameworks
I must remember that being human does not, as I thought, have the defining characteristics (descriptors, SVM lecture today ha! :) ) of:
1. apologising after admitting not under any coercion that one did something one feels is wrong
2. giving freedom of reply to ppl you slam, esp in public forums like blog.

It's not inhuman, it's not wrong, or right. It just is. It just is. And so I rest the case, and choose (without any real choice, but still can choose) to leave it alone. And I also choose (this time with full choice) to be happy.
Me: I must come up with some phrase that I can repeat whenever thinking of him. How about "He's a scumbag, he's a scumbag?"
J: Dear, no, don't bother. He's not worth caring about. Just don't care. Easier said than done, I know, but don't care. I mean now you understand that he's just the kind of human who when cornered to answer questions (and never saying anything before that) can say with sincerity that he feels he is wrong, but refuse to apologise. So that's that. And remember to eat. Chocolate is good for you.... (coaxing me to eat but I couldn't....)

One cannot survive on one char siew bao and one packet of Milo for the whole day, esp after going through six very difficult hours of classes. Had dinner with Jax so that he could force me to eat. Now drinking ice-cold lemon tea after running.

I must reinforce my belief in the above. The night before (Tues night), I couldn't sleep bcos was doing something really fruitless like reading his blog. Did a morning test and had a lecture too. Couldn't eat lunch cos wanted to throw up. Went to print notes for today's lect. Had dinner with Jax, went to watch Dance BLAST's 2-hour evening concert. Got very hyped up by it, and sprintwalked from UCC to NUH in 15 min flat while singing silly songs with Jax, who at around NUH begged me to slow down cos he was carrying some heavy stuff and couldn't keep up. He put me to bed, put the blanket over me, ordered me not to read -his- blog, turned off the lights, and went off. I was too tired by then to do otherwise, although I seriously considered the notion of getting up and switching on the comp to read ahem's blog. But too tired. And would really dishonor Jax's efforts and what he said to encourage me, would never be able to look him in the eye and call him friend again without dying inside if I did that. Only got up to place my head away from seeing any external lights and flop back into bed, hoping I won't dream. Didn't dream! Good.

Today, today. Woke up at 8.30, thought Oh I've really mucked up everything this time, all my goals have failed, I have to start all over again. Then thought about what I was going to do for the day. Realised that I really am in a pretty good position to start all over again - c'mon I'm enrolled in a degree course with high enough grades to do Honours if I set my mind to not mucking up this sem, I have friends who love me, I have family who love me, and I'm meeting some of my dear friends for lunch today. So that was good. Aha then switched on comp and went to his blog, read the stuff he wrote about me, commented. Of all the ppl I met and talked to today, J was the only one who easily understood that I returned comment to express my piece, as what I felt as a human being with freedom of reply in the public domain, and not to draw out a reply from anybody. Went to bathe. Class, lunch, class, dinner with Jax, shared earphones for a few hours over Jax's droolworthy MP3 collection of -surprise surprise- choral songs, while reading today's SVM lect notes. Went back to room, went out running, and here I am typing blog for the past hour. Going to bathe.

I must thank: June, for signing my guestbook and making me feel better about the whole day when I read it this morning, Cheryl and Jeanette, for blogging and emailing to reassure me that though humans can be scumbags, to try not to perpetuate their cynicism if that's not what I feel I myself should do (Jeanette, thank you for your crystal angel! love it! is so "in the face of all and in this world I must do what I do to be who I am though no one may be listening and all I do will perish"), J and YX for looking cheerfully thoroughly disgusted when I asked if I was overloading them and said I didn't want to do that and was so very sorry, and for telling me that depression is NOT contagious and staying to go through things with me, Jax for making sure I ate today, for putting me to bed last night, for watching the Dance BLAST concert with me, for offering me his yummy MP3 collection, for singing silly songs, for loving me, Edmund and Davina, for loving me, for caring, for bringing me food and conversation in the middle of the night, for advice, for inspiration on love, Lynn, for listening to me with an open heart, Bjorn and Wallis, for listening to me with no notice, being task-oriented in solving my problems and in so doing showed that they care, for helping me realise at the beginning of this year that I needed to go for counselling because the problem was serious. To my counsellor, for co-signing the no-suicide contract with me, for always listening to me, for not making me feel guilty when I cried in front of her, for thoroughly caring. To my sisters, for hopping down to this part of the country to have dinner with me and gossip about how things are going in our family.

To all, for offering to be there anytime, day, night, or sunset. just a phone call away.

"Study hard, or else you'll become a road sweeper then you know" - Jax.


Wednesday, February 25, 2004

yesterday was a pretty good day. I woke up in the morning to find two 5 cm-long flying insects in my room, they looked like they were enjoying each other's company and me not wanting to wake up 3 weeks later to thousands of baby insects, I managed to throw them both out the window without killing them. yay. That took a bit of time.

Then spoke further with boss about the consequences and likelihood of dropping urops. He spent half an hour with me on no notice whatsoever, and talked frankly. that's incredible, and I appreciated it.

Called J in the afternoon to ask for her opinion too. And read what Jax wrote about my suicide contract thingy in his own blog, and MSNed with him at night.

Now, while reading blogs at night to unwind after talking with Jax, I came across -his- blog, without knowing it was his, even when I was facing his hanyu pinyin name I was like, isn't this ------ (another guy I used to know)? Then after reading his 2 most recent entries, it hit. And I practically fell onto Jax who luckily was still online and managed to stop me from freezing paralysing myself into oblivion. I was so cold....... actually shivering in fear and shock and felt nauseous....... am still feeling nauseous and chilled today, wonder what to do about it.

After being soothed by Jax, tried to sleep. Couldn't sleep. Decided to wake up and read -his- blog. 3 years of his life covered in 3.5 hours. So many things that were directly addressed to me in some kind of plea, others simply dissing me, many others that indicated he had healed and yet not bothered to tell me so. Once I read his blog I realised that even at the time he was promising to care for me forever and he said that he felt married to me, he was still looking with great relish at other pretty girls. He lied. Was I such a valueless experience to him then, an easy mark, fun to play with and then throw away while lying through his teeth just to keep me around for as long as he wanted?

*trying not to throw up*

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

bloody h***, read homework also cannot escape from death and torture

"Reefs are being destroyed by an accumulation of stresses arising from human activities, on top of long term changes in the oceans and atmosphere, and natural stresses of highly variable seasons, severe storms, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. In many situations the extra impacts are stressing and overwhelming the resilience or self-repair capacity of reef communities. This is reflected in reports of increased incidence of coral diseases, as well as the more dramatic impacts of widespread coral death."

stress triggers, blech!
I shall read that faster and go read something else relevant.

Streaks of the 22-year-old show through the haze. *determined look*

Monday, February 23, 2004

Jax spent three hours with me in fuzion today
asked me to be strong
told me stories of his life
asked me not to withdraw from urops project

to persevere
to be proud
to have fighting spirit

No one can do my work except me.

cried at counsellor visit today
realised I hate failing
that maintaining a fundamentally human relationship (not nec mine) where both sides listen to each other and actually have something to say too, is the major success for me
that by this light I have utterly failed with him
him whom I actually cared for
respected for his love of knowledge
his fire of seeking to understand deeply that which he did not know

But I have not failed
I am not alone
Not alone.

We move to the no-suicide contract I signed today.

I signed a no-suicide contract today. It was a very formal private affair - we were perching on our chairs as usual, my counsellor held it out to me and waited for me to read it. She hoped I would read it carefully, and said that she cared and so do the lecturers and faculty....

When she handed it to me I couldn't help but look profoundly absolutely skeptical - she then said she knew it was difficult for me to believe people cared, because he didn't care at all whether I lived or died and had commanded me to not bother him when I told him a month ago that I wanted to die. I read it through, and then cried.

It was a promise not to die. Not to give up. To try my best to live. To call her or friends (phone numbers written down) if I felt like I truly could not make it. To try to do things that would make me happy (those written down too) and take my mind off the immediacy of such thoughts. If I signed it...... Aaahhhhh.

And she co-signed it. Kept the contract, and said it was hers to keep.

She carries my sorrows where for so long I had to carry all mine his and my family's all by myself.

*in tears* This is nearly unbelievable. And yet it is true.

attempted to have chat with dad today. sort of settle the detritus kind of chat. will reproduce our conversation here before I forget.

background: last time i talked to dad was when i nearly cried at the gate while leaving house to go back to hostel last weekend

think of pink sunsets.

Me wishes to speak to Dad about the crying, asks Dad to move to the room where i'm folding my clothes to pack back to hostel. Dad complies. I was in chat tones all the way.

SM: Do you remember I used to like this guy called ---?
Dad: Yes I remember.
SM: When we broke up, you were hyperventilating. [note to reader: he -was- hyperventilating, seriously short of breath I-am-almost-going-to-have-another-stroke kind of hyperventilating.]
SM: Why?
SM: (looks at dad's face and decides to give mcq) you didn't like him because he was too young? or younger than me? or ------ (Reason related to how and where I met him)?
Dad: How can I like him or not like him? I don't even know him, never met him before.
SM: Yes. (much encouraged at this display of rationality)
Dad: (steady increase in volume) He, what, --- (age) now, he's *still* immature. And I didn't want you two to go too far, too fast. And you should concentrate on how to do well in your studies and get a -degree- to do something -productive- with your life and stop reading those fantasy books!
SM: But why were you hyperventilating?
Dad: You know how I hate people talking on the phone after midnight! and you were doing that so often.
Dad: You should go around dating more ppl instead of always thinking of one -immature guy- (said in derisive tones). I don't want you to limit your dating.
SM: No Pa I'm not asking what you think now. I'm asking what you thought then.
Dad: Same as what I think now. You're above 21 now, you should know what to do with your life. (stomps off in a huff)

What he's saying is so full of holes in logical linkages, it could be used as a laundry bag. Plus the fact that he actually ranted his opinion at me without explaining it, and brought in irrelevant facts (fantasy books? 21?).

First of all, he admitted he doesn't know him bcos never spoken to him. Then in the next breath he says he's immature. Ageism.

Go too far, too fast? Isn't that my issue to deal with, not Dad's? Admittedly, Dad thinks premarital sex is totally immoral (which he mentioned only bcos we were all watching the news on the oral sex cases a short while back), but that doesn't mean I have to hold that view simply because he says so too. Especially when he indicates he believes in my ability of autonomous good thinking simply because I'm above 21(ageism! internally consistent thoughts.). And if he meant that as a sarcastic comment, well well well.... it would have been a very cheap and meaningless shot.

And it's funny how he actually hyperventilated over the midnight phone calls. I would think there would be better things to hyperventilate about regarding my ill-fated relationship.

Then, the best. Didn't want me to limit my dating. Dad, some (many?) people date one person at a time when strong mutual liking is expressed. When that's done, these same people usually move on to mass friendship/acquaintance-making, followed by dating another one person at a time. This is a casual romantic relationship. It is not marriage, so where's the limiting factor? Just because I date one person at a time to see fully where it goes, means I'm limiting my dating? hello.......

the degree, the degree. always the degree. get a job, get a HDB flat, get married, grow old. follow govt exhortations and parents' expectations to make children. bleah. Bleah! Blech!

Someone somewhere said, there's nothing wrong with doing the conventional. As long as you have gone through the -thought process- (options consequences personal prefs other relevant factors) and realised that is really the thing you really want to do.

I also do not see the correlation between age and knowing what to do with your life.

I have concluded that my dad and he are quite similar i.e. insane. They assert their opinions on some "established facts" forcefully without following up with substantiating statements. They like to go off on irrelevant tangents and not listen to what you are asking. And they always expect me to take their opinions and actions as the Given Word which is the Best in the World. which means they get really very upset when you don't agree with what they are saying/doing and gently query them on it in a discussing manner.

It's very much like talking to people who say, "Homosexuality is wrong", for eg, and you going, "homosexuality?" hoping to glean some useful information on what they consider "homosexuality" and thus begin to discuss what is so wrong about it, and them then getting agitated and going "wtf!" at you before running off to sulk in silence. Very unproductive to end a discussion even before it has officially begun. I respect social conventions and dislike Given Words that are the Best in the World. Very irritating when people tell you what you should do/think and then proceed to give you the finger (or sth equivalent) when you ask why do that.

Now if you say it's your own Best in the World and proceed to acknowledge there are other Good opinions and discuss them a little, that's a whole different thing altogether. That, I like. Even better if you ask me what my personal opinion is, but that's not essential.

no detritus settled, but at least i tried. there's no point getting stuck between two stupid males lah.


Saturday, February 21, 2004

happy things are conversations with ppl about themselves or other things, leading to learning new things about life, love, or just ppl themselves

happy things are jumping up and down on the bed to relieve stress

happy things are engaging enough in themselves to not think about anything else when doing them bcos they bring so much joy AND take so much effort (jumping on bed requires not breaking neck which does take some looking since bed is small.)

do happy things, and i shall be not sad. this is my new resolution.
this is life! moving.

quotable conversational quotes from chatting with E:

SM: always open options. yes that is a good idea. even or especially in the face of impossible odds. the second law of thermodynamics says that where more options are possible, then the scenarios of more open options would be likely to occur, rather than the scenario of no or one or few open options.

(hahahahaha. rationalization knows no bounds. as to whether it's true or not, is another matter.)

E: "emotions do not subscribe to the second law. i suspect that they are not closed systems. *smile*"

"thermodynamic laws apply only to closed systems. in emotional systems, there is a possibility of the spontaneous generation and removal of possible states, suggesting energetic input/output from other parts of the universe..."

fwah. random chance. best! yum. it's fun. mental wanderings for entertainment/learning value to engage in things that show beauty, is the reaffirmation of one's right to do such things, and thus one's own self-worth despite all criticisms.

the more i talk the worse it gets sometimes. today i finally realised why, or at least a potential reason. kick in the butt from counsellor - what any other person thinks, does NOT determine your self-worth. no matter how much you care for that person. no matter how severely that person abuses you. no one in this world has the power to do that for you. you have the right to your own final say on who you are, idiots regardless - their final say on you doesn't have to be taken as your own even if they try to ram it into you a thousand times. Be not worn down especially by their groundless insults.

E: "awright! (one) gurl power. *laugh*" Me: *g*, as perception would say.

did -you- know that there are different types of hair gel/wax?
though they all look the same when they come in tubs. compare one tub to another tub - tadahh it's not necessarily the same! no this is not a philosophical musing, learnt something about "reflective" hair gels today. and "opaque" hair gels. !! =p

Friday, February 20, 2004

i saw a pink sunset. i saw a pink sunset today.

just because it took me about 1 hour to get the happy effect of the pink sunset, as opposed to most happy ppl who get that effect like immediately, it DOesn't mean that I'm hopeless. Hey I still got it okay!

Probably bcos it just lingered there looking happy even while I was morosely registering, "Pink. encrusting. hard. no polyp retraction. = coralline algae. Pink. ball in sky. = sunset. Brown cloud in water. = silt. Pink. ball in sky. = same old, same old sunset. Orange. encrusting. paint-like looking. leathery. = radioactive paint? cancel thought. = sea squirt. Wave coming, tide coming in = whoosh, lose balance. Get pushed around by water. Fwah. Hey look at that huge massive coral over there, everybody in our group go Waaaahhhh! now =) . Pink. ball in sky. = happy sunset!" =p

Thursday, February 19, 2004

changed blog name today.

classic symptoms:
1. I can't seem to let the matter go, though I let the person go (no contact) through sheer strength of will.
2. I fear and distrust all males to significant extent, except those whom I have known for many years and that I know are still married/happily stably attached. (Yes even you, Bjorn.) For these guys, it still takes effort to trust them.
3. I distance myself from my friends and family in an futile hope that the filth I carry and the bile I spew forth will not spread to them.
4. I seldom make the effort to look pretty. Instead I try to look and be intimidating without actually looking so intimidating that it looks like I'm spoiling for a fight (cos I'm not).
5. When alone, I cry often over small triggers, love songs and sunsets and rainy days especially.
6. I don't even look straight into guys' eyes (any guys) anymore in case they take that as a come-on. Unless I feel I look sufficiently intimidating, of course. Or unless I know they are especially attached to their girlfriends/wives, and even then not often.
7. I never, ever spend time alone with any non-attached guys even in semi-public places like the school canteens. Unless we're both standing and I can run easily.
8. I completely do not step within 200m radius of where he might be unless I absolutely have to. For classes, for example.
9. I frequently ponder what I did to deserve this, and what reparations can be made so that the sexual abuser turns into a decent guy typical of the ones I used to trust so easily and who were decent too. But, of course, this is moot since that dude doesn't want me to even think of him anymore. So, nice try.
10. Even after a bath, I don't feel clean. Am reminded that I am technically clean only because the soap scent is filling the room.

There. A list. For future action. Hate feeling like or being a victim but tasks 1 to 11 have to be cleared first. And homework, too.

This looks like something I should bring up to my counsellor. She might have some ideas.

What ideas do you have, to clear the list?


am currently thinking about what mizuka has said.

comments on that to my blog not m's, please.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

my favourite colour is green.

i wish i could have told him to go to hell when he made cracks about how he hates green and how green is a Rafflesian colour.

i gave him the benefit of the doubt and took the R-bashing as a school thing. His school's pastime, maybe.

that however didn't mean that i found it funny or entertaining. especially when he was also insulting my taste in colour at the same time with greater vehemence than the R-bashing.

Isn't random school-bashing between strangers completely unfashionable by now?

..... *slow smile* ..... I will destroy him and any like him the only way I can. You the reader will never know his name nor what he looks like, because I am not in the business of destroying ppl's lives irreparably. and that cloak of anonymity for him makes it more objective so that you can perhaps create an opinion of his type as impartially as can be derived from only one side of the story. And someday if you meet him somewhere, or perhaps meet him again, you will see....

four reasons, then.

six reasons why the bastard is a bastard:

1. first thing he said when entering my hostel room last Sept to put down stuff was "your floor's dusty, your bed's messy, and your bookshelf's messy". this is rude. but rudeness by itself is not a major problem.

the floor wasn't dusty cos i'd just wiped it a few days before. though I doubt he could have felt the floor through his 5-cm-thickness sports socks. the bed was, indeed, messy. it was the bookshelf that I found most irritating - after he made my bed his way, which i didnt mind cos i could always just mess it up again, and besides since he was the one going to be sitting on the bed cos i needed to work on the computer and thus he could rearrange pillows etc to his satisfaction, he actually rearranged my bookshelf in the blink of an eye, and thereafter looked at me straight and said, "There, isn't that neater now?"

He would have reminded me very much of my mother, except that my mother doesn't do that. The other thing he reminded me of was a stupid boy. Did I give him permission to touch my bookshelf, which he would not ever actually be using during that visit? It boggled the mind.

what made him think I would appreciate his way of doing things, when he neither asked me for permission, nor input?

common sense also dictates that since I am the one using my bookshelf, that maybe -just maybe- I am perfectly comfortable with the way it looks bcos I know where everything is just by feel.

But I thought it was stupid to kick him out of my life over a bookshelf. (Hah! I should have, I should have. *smiles*) I did, however, tell him I disapproved. And you know what he said? "But I thought my style of arrangement was better."

Dude. You have no brain.

I should have kicked him out then except that he sounded so plaintive and remorseful yet completely secure of his own rightness even when making that statement. So that established 'no malicious intent' from him. So I hung around to see what he was up to and what on earth he wanted from me. (I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have!) cos the miraculous fact that he actually came to grovel and apologise and ask me why i was so angry gave me pause.

2. Next. Somewhere sometime while firing him on the bookshelf, I realised that stupid dude was maneuvering along his own set of assumptions when he was dealing with me - it has to do with the way he talked to me, as well as how easily he took over my hostel room's spatial arrangements despite our non-acquaintance for the past two years. So I asked him point-blank what he was assuming, told him not to assume anything, and said I wasn't angry. Because I really wasn't angry. At that point I didn't care about him enough to get angry with him (hello this is my ex, I'm not stupid). I cared about other things like homework and schoolmates and modules and UROPS and fascinating GP-like articles.

However it was not until late last month that I realised stupid dude was assuming one extraordinarily stupid thing all the way. (despite me telling him specifically at least four separate times in the past 5 months not to assume anything while trying to ask him what on earth was he assuming that was driving his mad behaviour.) This gem of stupidity is so rare that I must quote it. "You know how my mind works." This, after two years of barely talking to him for only five minutes once every three months? Add a few hours more for keeping my memory straight, and that works out to.... 5 hours' conversation in total. For two years of both our lives. I laugh. I finally realise he is atrociously stupid.

funny, I have something against disliking ppl just bcos they are atrociously stupid. It's not a sufficient reason. Next up, the sufficient reason.

3. He next came to look for me, to get something, as usual. I asked him pleasantly what he wanted. He said, nothing. I believed him. But, he actually wanted to cry about this girl who had rejected him. So instead of stabbing him in the heart for not considering whether I might be upset (our former relationship had not ended well nor cleanly), I wished him courage, asked him what he wanted to do, and gave some possible options. Although it made me slightly sick when I asked him, do you love her enough to wait five years for her? and he said, yes! without a trace of irony. He then called me a hippopotamus, and went home. I put that down to mental shock and decided to let it go. The next day, he asked me out for dinner, and proceeded to ask me when we were barely seated in the restaurant, "What am I doing here having dinner with you?" It was very insulting to a dinner guest. Mental shock is hardly sufficient to account for such.

That, added to former insults about my eating habits, my favourite colour, my former school, led me begin to wonder. When I asked him to talk to me to settle these, he ignored me. When I asked him to talk to me because I was hyperventilating at his silence, he ignored me. When I asked him to talk to me to save any chance of a continued or renewed friendship, he said, only, "I'm tired". When I asked him to talk to me because I was struck numb by pain at his silence, he ignored me. When I asked him to talk to me to help me stop the pain, he ignored me. When I asked him to talk to me to not have my blood on his hands, he ignored me. When I begged him to help me before I died, he called me and told me coolly to go away.

He has no courage to take the consequences of what he does (whether he does them knowingly or unknowingly it does not matter once he was informed, and I did inform him), and a closed mind to humans' pain. In that, he has no honour.

4. The dude when calling me for the last time, said he wanted me to just go away. Without answers. Without anything. This is not practical; he thinks I'm bugging him for the sake of doing so? And yet he firmly maintained that stance. So to make sure I could fulfil my part of the bargain in leaving, I coerced him into giving me answers. One of them was, as you may have read below, whether he had intentionally sexually abused me when we were together. He said yes.

Now, keeping in mind that he had known this all the while, and never bothered to tell me, and never bothered to help me when I was in pain, and didn't want to help me ever at all except for some overriding feelings of guilt that he might be responsible for my suicide, and yet wanted my help when he asked for it, and actively insulted me to boot,

I leave you to make your own decision on whether he is a bastard, and whether he is worth fighting for, worth caring for.

What really sucks? The fact that he's perfect academically, and going to receive lots of accolades and scholarships and things because of that, and that no one will ever know his fatal flaw of lack of courage and honour because it would be unlikely to surface in daily interactions or interviews. Now that probably reflects something strange.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

depression, is no joke.

does anyone else realise
how difficult it is to peel yourself off the bed
when it seems your only place of safety

unchanging stability
mind-halting rest
(or so you think)
until you find the nightmares creeping up on you
fire blood and raving nightmares of ghosts

where you must find the strength to fend them away

until your family calls, and you get up to answer the phone,
their happy chatter soothes you back into existence,
they confide their little troubles
you confess your deepest sorrows.
they say they'll meet you in school for dinner tomorrow
taking the time to be with you

all this because as you were leaving the house on Monday, and your father was closing the gate,
he asked,
Why do you look so sad?
And your eyes teared.
Your lip trembled as you tried not to cry in front of him.
He grows alarmed and says, Don't cry, what troubles you?
You say,
Nothing, nothing.

Nothing, nothing.

Father is alarmed enough to tell mother, and mother calls every night to ask how are you and is your problem solved.
Fine, fine. Uh..... (No, no.)
Mother foists phone off on sister.

sister chatters, and recovers you to life.

love! rediscovered.

i have to do my f***ing computer project now.

this song looks pretty accurate in translation too, so i shall translate.

Sunset, by Zhou Chuan Xiong.

When summer passes,
the wounds have not healed.
Driving on the endless freeway
takes me apart from my self.

A song that can't be finished.
Tiredness leaving dark circles under one's eyes
Hurt is near-unavoidable in love,
Even the most beautiful sunset progresses into dark night.

I remember you telling me to be strong
Fire flays me (ancient and undiminished) in the evening dark.
The sunset's horizon
is a word of parting,
Love falls forever into night.

I remember your tears falling upon me, your sorrow
In chaos' midst I was burnt by them
The sunset's horizon
fractures happiness and joy
The light of shared love has been snuffed out.

Chinese song lyrics taken off


周传雄 - Transfer







I believe
I have been spending the entire February so far
(more than half a month)
working out the dynamics of this question
quietly thinking on it:
"why did you treat me as a sex object? as your sex toy?"

a question on intentions
a random shot
one which was actually divided into two parts
first, "did you mean to, actually?"
second, "if you did, why?"
asked together.

If he didn't mean to, he would say he didn't mean to, right? In fact if I were male and a girl accused me of being with her primarily for her sexual favours and I had no such intentions at all (though the actions themselves might be debatable since the perspectives of two parties were involved), if I had remotely cared about the rest of her at all during those sexual acts, I would protest very very much that I had No Such Intentions.

after said shot was let loose into the conversational arena
he said he had to think

answer to first question began to look traumatic

he spent a long time thinking in silence

then said, "it is my failing."
which i took to be, first question Yes.
and second question "i don't know, but at least i admit that i did mean to"

my line: "it is your greatest failing."
expecting an apology
some remorse
some words of comfort to me
a chance to revoke what he had just said

he said, only, "Yes."

and promptly told me to get out of his life before he developed an "aversion" to me.

Shouldn't it be, me developing a stupendous distaste for him, me telling him he is less than human for treating me so cheaply? then, and now?

and so goes my personal agenda, Michelle, if you are reading this.

*takes small breath*. He only answered these questions because I requested answers from him in return for never surfacing in his life again, as he so deeply wished. So after that, I said that he had provided enough answers and it was sufficient. We then ended the conversation.

it was a negotiation trade-off. I had to actively back the one I loved into finally telling me the truth of whether he used me for sex or not.

in sum total, I really did get used as a sex object in return for true love, plus the fact that I had to corner him till the end even to get this very simple very distasteful answer. i have loved well but not wisely. very, very unwisely.

after this, what else is there to say? so i have no motive and no emotional driving force to contact him ever again. which is as he wished; he wants never to be contacted again by me, and I wanted to not have a reason to do so, which involved the long q&a session.

Monday, February 16, 2004

this happened over Sat/Sun.

Mum (looks at newly developed photos): Do you think your postgrad student will want a reprint of this photo? (points to the one I took with him)
Me: No.
Mum: That's good. He might think you're his girlfriend otherwise.

Suddenly it feels like Twilight Zone Five, baby....


I had a endearing dream on Sat night about my postgrad holding the abovementioned photo and threatening everyone nearby with it, "This is my girlfriend!"



To make sure the conversation with my Mum was not a hallucination brought on by too much curry fish the night before, I brought up the subject again on Sunday morning.

Me: You remember that photo of my postgrad you were talking about yesterday?
Mum: Yeah.
Me: (fast forwards for blog reader's convenience) ..... photo..... girlfriend?
Mum: Yeah.
Me (thinking) !!!!
Me: You know it would make more sense if you said that other ppl might mistake me as his girlfriend from the photo. It makes no sense if you think -he- might mistake me as his girlfriend from the photo.

The fun part.

Mum: *flips out with a flipped-out look* Aiyah just don't reprint the photo can?

Twilight Zone Five.

Me: (surprised that it's not a hallucination after all) Yah. Sure!

Exit exit space warp.



Saturday, February 14, 2004

very irritated, going to whine. You have been forewarned. If this is not interesting to you don't read it.


First of all, why do I write things on blog instead of speaking to my friends directly?

Possible but totally wrong reasons:
1. I am repressed in real life (IRL) and prefer to curl up and die in the online universe.
2. I need a lot of time to think when chatting with ppl IRL.
3. I enjoy the happy anonymity it gives me.

Possible and totally right reasons:
1. Because I don't want to waste your time telling you long stories abt something I found interesting/important/whatever only for you to run off at the end of 1 hour to go for tutorial, without hearing your comments, or what you have been doing with your life too. That's so pointless.
2. Because (see 1.) to spend less than 1 hour etc etc is to render the issue incomplete and lead to you asking me more questions about what we're talking about in order for you to get my perception. Which is more time-inefficient than me blogging, u reading in ur freer time, for a simple one-way passing of factual info.
3. Because I get to edit and think harder about what I say. Which is helpful for my mental health and growth. And I get a permanent record of it too, that doesn't clog up memory space in my head as "dead .dat files" under "evolution of SM's spirit" category.

To counter the possible but totally wrong reasons:
1. Writing on blog simply to counter total repression is dumb. I would rather speak/walk/run/talk/read physical biochemistry and get my brain totally screwed out/do the most horrendous CA ever *IRL* than to conduct my entire life mostly in the Internet plane. Geddit
2. Anyone who thinks I need more time than usual to think when socializing IRL has not seen me tackle five strangers in a spontaneous setting and manage to seduce/charm/sufficiently convince all of them into thinking I'm -actually juz quite likeable- or some such. Or ten strangers (project work). Or a hundred strangers twice a day (post A Level job). Sheesh. There is more than meets the eye. And whoever does not get the eye joke and is interested enough to ask me, please feel free.
3. I would give up happy anonymity in an instant for the chance to see ppl I love (or hate, or otherwise feel whatever for) in the flesh, just so I know whether they are healthy/sneezing/moody/stressed/what is on their minds, and I would know it *faster*. Because I care and I want two-way genuine interest in our lives that doesn't waste both our time communicating purely factual info on *for eg* what strain of flu bug I've been suffering from recently and how I found that out through PCR etc boring boring lab methods personal investigation. Not everybody is geek enough to appreciate all the gory details of everything, every time. If you tell me about how you mercilessly trawl physics journals on how the normalization constants are empirically determined or not empirically determined but derived ab initio and how, I am only going to pay very close attention to you bcos you are my friend, and then ask, "What is it about this thing that makes it crucially important to your life, such that you can spend so much time and energy and gain satisfaction from it?" Which is the kind of fuzzed-out question again that not everybody is equipped to answer or counter-challenge on the spot. So I put this kind of gory details that I personally find interesting on my blog. If you want to respond, you at least have the time and privacy to think through your response. If you don't want to respond, you don't have to worry about 'qie'ing me or how to change the subject, unlike real life. You can just walk. Simple. In total, in other words, throwing up on my blog is a perfectly normal occurrence vs the discourtesy of wasting your time with things you might not be fully absorbed in but that I find enchanting, or vice versa.

Secondly, I am tired of some people whom I don't talk to every day (which makes it, like, everybody) assuming that I know what they are thinking in the deepest part of their hearts. I have no idea why they would think so. Just because I catch conversational cues quite well is a non sequitur to the idea that I definitely know every detail about what impacts your lifeforce on a daily basis, especially about the things that we haven't talked about in eons. But if you have told me in conversation before about what makes your heart beat and your spirit persist against the constant production of our body's free radicals through oxidative phosphorylation, and I have responded directly to that, only then you can take it that I know. Unless you have drastically changed your view, of course, and didn't tell me. Then I won't know anymore.

The fact that nobody knows what anybody else is thinking is why people bother to talk. or write. So talk, or write, or phone, or meet me in person, to communicate. Don't just keep quiet and assume I know what you are thinking and am living my life in counterterrorist response (or something damned ridiculous) to what you are thinking silently in the very special privacy of your own mind. I hate it when I get placed into that position where I am responsible for people's unstated assumptions and people get pissed when I don't know what they are thinking and they say absolutely nothing about what they are thinking while expecting me to know, dammit.


End of rant.

Good night.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

From CSY's blog:

"people talk! i mean - i can't get over it. we're just cells, you know. we pass through time as the sequelae of godless chemicals deciding to fuck with each other. it's just such a relief that meaning can condense from our twitches."

Fascinating stuff =)

btw, friend says too, the next guy who chases you is going to have a hard time.

as with the typical male, if he doesn't want you enough to wait for you, and learn about you, well....
but if he wants you enough to stay, "he'll be a better man for it".

Because, I find it hard to believe in love when I think of love the first thing I see is his face saying "I love you" and "I can't help it" using that to justify his 'grievous hurt' extent of repeated sexual advances (see laws entry, earlier today)

which happens to be a charred occurrence in my mind, that he has never apologised for, and had to be coaxed into admitting, even.

this particular memory bites me in the butt and has to be handled as 'it will never do anything for me except bite me in the butt and so is a bad memory that is pointless to recall and so I shall try not to recall it. by submerging myself in work or other activities.'


went out to lunch with a friend, was hoping for a little faith in me.

but got more than i expected. (the taste of what i'm feeling now reminds me of the time Edmund crashed my room at 1.30 am with dinner and stayed a while to talk to me simply bcos he and his gf were concerned and they truly cared.)

i got.... faith in the whole human race.

stories and parables and the feeling of never being alone.

and my recent idea of beliefs being the only absolute in this world (prev entry somewhere, ah last Tuesday's) as being held by her too.


We spoke about sexual abuse, and laws, which is what I spoke about with my counsellor yesterday. That story below.

Things I used to believe. Things that if thought about have no answers and simply come back to bite you in the butt. These things - existence cannot be denied, but they can be acknowledged and after that dealt with in some way - simply put to rest. Beliefs are kind of like spirits from another dimension? in that they exist all in their infinite variety no matter what one personally thinks. Things that, to my shame, I forget when it comes to the crunch. That I must remember again to live a sane life. my sane life. not my former sane life - that has no meaning anymore after recent events.


Post-lunch ideas:
Jax's idea of the phoenix rising and his Emerald Dream are not ludicrous; at some point in time you actually turn around from where you were wandering lostly before and see two visions spreading out before you (all minor variations being able to classify in the end into only two ideas) that are both possible - that you can just stretch out your hand and take, but only one. One is borne of light and hopes and beliefs and has a bright future, and the other is a wasteland of helplessness and shattered dreams and charred memories that don't die.

To stare at this dichotomy for too long would stall life - that is not good. So the choice must be made, in one's own time. Yet, the simplicity of only two models that all issues of choice boil down to, is starkly, simply, amazingly beautiful in its simplicity. Choose, and live. Or choose to die. That's all. I could die even with others all around me, it was done before. The choice is mine, the moral force to exert it is mine alone but shared with the rest of the human race.


My counsellor yesterday, when I went to see her for what I thought would be the last time, asked me as a matter of fact, "So after all this, do you have any other concerns that you would like to share?" And what came to mind's surface was the fact that he had forced sexual exchanges on me (I protested repeatedly, but he still did) before he turned 16.

It felt like a light chain that rapidly turned out to be a big and heavy chain that I had not considered and made some decision about before.

My counsellor: He's a bastard! He's a bastard. Why do you feel responsible?

Indeed. To answer the question:

Let's talk about laws. I said to my friend today, what are laws? laws are an expression of socially-decided habits reinforced by disapproval when they are broken. For me to do such a thing, or rather have such a thing done to me perhaps because I didn't protest enough or walk completely from the situation before things got bad, I am totally legally responsible. This is not an escapable fact.

(I hope my law friends will write later to elaborate or counter some premises of this idea in the comments section.)

Friend then said, some guys learn respect for women very late. Some don't learn it at all. And there are bastards everywhere else too. So even though he is not legally responsible because my society's laws demand that he has no brain to self-control his particular sexual urges before he is 16, he is still morally responsible as a human being. That is, the moral that 'one shalt not force sexual advances on women who have repeatedly protested' still exists. What is the real difference between 16 and 7 months before 16? Therefore he is still a bastard, and can be left alone to kill himself later.

Isn't this a very self-serving way for me to think?

How does one control a flash flood? How can one run if one is (was, at that time) still hoping for the love relationship to continue?

Three times. During each time, I protested. He kissed me to shut me up, and promised to change but never stopped. After each time, I protested harder. After each time, he asked to meet me again. When we met again, he touched me not for all of five minutes and then it happened again! My trust was horribly misplaced.

Thus the question is, by law, he has no brain and is not responsible. But is he truly completely not responsible for the sexual abuse at all then, with the way he ran and never apologised? (u know he came back last sem and tried to be friends again without once raising this issue but yet raising other issues abt the past - "You eat obsessively, exactly like before", he said scornfully. btw he's 17+ now.)

Friend says, he could be running because he simply wants an end to all this. HIS WAY.

Food for thought.

Comment, please.

P/S: Given what I know now, I would simply run and not give a s*** about hurting his feelings. Or anyone else's feelings, were I to encounter the same coercion situation again. Run as in physically remove myself from the scene and totally not talk to him again no matter how good a friend he was before. Run before my life degenerates into this mess of legalities and massive abuse.

found a new comments service at It's free.

As it is, I write too much and work/eat/sleep too little.

now thinking wispy thoughts, tired as hell. sexual abuse?

Have test tomorrow must eat lunch and then read vv fast.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

eh? dear you can call yourself by whatever name you want, after all it's your name, your representation in the online universe, your one and only uniquely yours. =p

nonsensical post for the day, beginning in 2 seconds:

chocolate chocolate chocolate yum chocolate yum chocolate!


end of nonsensical post.

is the full name better? =)
re: the 'it' -- was rather amused by the handsome guys at the gym post, and the responses to it. *smile* with the benefit of hindsight, "it" seems to be too succint a reply to really explain what I thought. but it doesn't matter. ;)

in case anyone out there is wondering, I must firmly declare that P is not an It to me and I love P dearly. (despite the apparently miniscule, insignificant-looking moniker of the letter "P", who to some weirdos might draw completely undeserved flak to P the person).

It did take me some time to get the It joke but I responded in kind. =)
And that's all there is to it.

I just read a discussion aka flame war where it started out quite ok but got really harsh and never got back to being civil. The firestarter character counters perceived attack (note: not confirmed with the ppl involved, be it on the discussion page or by private communications) immediately, with total overkill counterattack, and freely admitted it as his idea of being an effective dampener to all the name-calling, and didn't want to see (note: *see*, understand, enlightenment, accept?) how it could possibly not be a dampener as he so assumed but instead very incendiary.

That looks like three errors in perception to me. I'm not going to call them mistakes, bcos they might not be intentionally disruptive. Nonetheless they are severe errors in his judgment bcos of the not unpredictable consequences that ensued.

1. In using this overkill tactic, he severely underestimates the -backbone- of the ppl involved in the civil dialogue, their -ability- to not be intimidated by unsubstantiated insults and back away from their belief to have a cuss-free civil discussion where personalised swearing is not a punctuation mark. Grit, as Jax might say.

2. From his previous experience in life, it may have worked as an effective dampener bcos ppl were in awe of him or something. His masterful language abilities *puke*? His ability to swear the boots off anybody? Needing the exercise in being charitable, I'll give the benefit of the doubt and say he probably didn't know it would never work universally. Different social convention.

3. And finally, he didn't want to see how his (to him, with just provocation) counterattack might be completely ineffective. He simply didn't want to see. So he continued his ways. Again this might be a different social convention. From Mars, perhaps. Yet it sounds not unfamiliar to me....

4. (a minor one) He didn't know how to back down and shut off his insults and "counterarguments" as a token of goodwill even when everybody was calling peace.

He got called on it by a neutral mediator, previously not involved in the discussion, and turned on her as being defensive of her friends.

The mediator is a strong mediator, stronger as mediator because she is not directly involved in the discussion topic in the first place. And she was fair. But he didn't relent.

I believe they tracked down his IP address.

good luck to him. He will never survive in this country ever again, I think.

Yes this is real, this is a real person, and this is a real situation with other real ppl that occurred very very recently (not like 10 years ago or something).

Who do you know who would actually intersperse a rational discussion with "dumbfuck" (and worse), and expect to be acknowledged as completely high, mighty and innocent of all things because to him he didn't start the name-calling first?

What price? Your life?

Take heed, and learn.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Ah, my new It! =) hugz. hello hello P.





Monday, February 09, 2004

Its ok can go with me to the gym next time. :p

(wicked smile) Although I am not sure what kind of guy your uncle intends you to pick up...maybe you already found it. wink wink wink. Heheheheehe

Misc activities:

Yesterday our extended family celebrated my dad's 60th birthday by eating out this year.

Two amusing exchanges at my table, from my aunt, and her husband. The husband first.

Uncle: So, do you go to the gym?
Me: =) No.
Uncle: Never?!
Me: =) No, never.
Uncle: Don't they have a gym at your hostel?
Me: Yes, they do....
Uncle: Oh, you should go then. It's a good place to pick up handsome guys.
Me: *Bites my tongue on how many handsome guys there are in the gym who are not in the least interested in girls* (my younger cousins were at the table and their parents are a bit conservative) *so what my uncle sees is a slightly incredulous very amused look*

Uncle is about 52 years old. So is Aunty, his wife.

When enjoying dessert, there was honey with the gui lin gao (you know the dark slightly bitter herbal jelly that's really nice only with honey). Aunty smiles and looks round the table inviting people to eat, as is her somewhat endearing habit throughout dinner.

Aunty (to me): Honey?
Aunty : Oh dear that sounded strange.... =p
Me : *blindingly incandescent amused smile* Yes dear. (takes the proffered honey)

And that was my father's birthday dinner.

okay... more blog entries, mostly to Jax. simultaneously clarifying yet further muddling I would say. A blog entry deserves a blog reply.

The pain still exists.

I am not emancipated, yet. Jax, I stand but a hair's-breadth away sometimes from breaking my word of honour to him. He doesn't understand what protection from pain and anguish means, and I constantly resist the urge to show him exactly what on earth pain is (by holding up a mirror and letting him mercilessly see those flaws for which youth is no excuse). In that situation I believe that 'an eye for an eye' doesn't apply.

Lucky for him, isn't it?

I find it funny that he believes in my word of honour to hold me to our agreement, when there is one thing in the world I would sacrifice that promise for in an instant: to protect him from being hurt irreparably.

What stops me now is the conviction that if I say anything to him at all, the cost to him will be very high, primarily his feeling of independence. Add to that the fact that communications code between him and me sometimes just sucks. And my trusty diary is there for me to vent my frustrations on when it gets difficult, of course. Not people anymore.

(If -you- [you know who you are, the one and only cowardly supreme close-minded blurness on this planet] are reading my blog, well you did say you weren't going to read it anymore, the consequences be on your head then. I try my best but I don't account for every eventuality. But at least I try, unlike you. And this is in response to Jax so take your judgmental opinions and stuff it.)

So that's for the emancipated part.

I freely admit to speeding.

I'm still working on the madness part, to get into a groove where I can happily study and everyone praises me for fulfilling my duty and being hardworking, and I don't have to suffer the thousand tortures of the damned for choosing the absolutely wrong guy who raises swords and other torture implements to me and leaves me absolutely bleeding crying out in pain while -running-.

Charm. Glad for the backhanded compliment. Enuff said on that.

Grit. hmmm it does not come from being "wronged", but I don't know where it really comes from? The fight to be alive to fulfil my family obligations, maybe. To not make my friends unhappy. To just keep going until one day I'm 35 and dead. Or 35 with a PhD and wondering what the hell I have done in my life besides unwittingly torture a young one who is too stupid to see that I had no intention of torturing him in the beginning or in recent times, and am currently strongly resisting the urge to do so.

Science. hmm you're not the first one to make that assumption. =) But what I truly love is music, the piano was my only voice until I was in sec sch. And even after, it remains one of my joys. Even though =p I did nearly dislocate a thumb today when trying to play arpeggios scales at my normal speed of 4+ years ago.

I fight my past each day, so do not think it is so easy to have flown away from it.

Unlike -someone-, whose fourth dimension is not continuous.... I have completely no idea how that is accomplished and I don't want to ask him anymore. Every time I ask him something he knows how to do instinctively but I don't, he gives me this withering look/tone and snipes, "Just. do. it. Why can't you do or see it?" Such a mysterious "it" it is. So mysterious that he himself sees it but can't explain or define it such that some other person might know.

My chains renew themselves afresh each day, Jax. These chains are of my own choosing now: a simple whisper away and he would be hurt, again. Sometimes I think the boy takes every hurt too seriously, leaves them to rot while he runs. This could turn him acidic and I worry about it bcos I care, but by his own hand and his own words, I'm not allowed to give a damn anymore. That was his only terms of the agreement.

So my word and my caring combine to give him a promise, to save him from reminders of his own foolishness, while hopefully conveying him to a life of his own choosing, no matter how hellish it may be eventually to run from his own weaknesses and his own fears.

Stupid boy doesn't realise that when he asked me not to care, he almost asked me to free all the demons that live between us and unleash them onto him. Listen if -you- are still reading this, don't ask me not to care again. It could be tremendously hazardous to your health.

A promise, so fragile, so binding. So strong. A life for a promise.

Where does grit come from? I don't know at all.

Jax, on the question of what binds us, let me first tell you a story: I was in Engine Mac's last Sat morning, eating with a friend. She asked me very spontaneously out of the blue whether I knew this other person in LS, who's in the same lab as her. I said yes, she's my friend, and we talk regularly. The friend in Mac's then spent some time insulting my other friend's personality and work attitudes. When I gently suggested that their different social conventions might have contributed to the great deal of misunderstanding, my Mac's friend ignored it completely and continued insulting my other friend with great relish, trying to warn me to be careful of her I think. I was speechless; I don't know what on earth really goes on in their lab, yeah maybe my other friend comes across as this monster but I don't -know-, and she didn't accept my gentle suggestion so there was nothing else I could really say to such a close-minded person.

I've known this Mac's friend very casually for a couple of years, and I didn't know she was of the 'my perception is the only possible perception' tribe until this incident.

So, even though I don't really agree with every aspect of your worldview, I'm happy that we're both polished and/or deceitful enough to not do this abuse thing.

Lately I have been drawing away from the guys I know, to reflect a little, on why all the guys who are my close friends from now till the past 2 or 3 years back are all (without exception) happily attached. So it's not very specific to you.

But it hurts you nonetheless.

So I am sorry.

i'm not going to say anything about the charm and the grit except that the "grit" doesn't come from being "wronged", as you say

*looks up* Pain?

Emancipated???? You really think so?

More to the point, science? Why not music?

I really need to talk with you. And that's "with", not "to". I have completely no idea what I was doing last Thursday. For the record, even without the pain (side whisper: which is arguable), your existence is -not- redundant to me! Jeez.

More on this later.

A mad girl-woman
Speeding down
the aisle of traffic
with the charm of the devil
the grit of the wronged
Down and down the lane
She hurrily sprinted
With the science she knew so well
Flown away from the past
She is free...finally emancipated
From old soiled chains.

Mon congrates my dear....
without the pain, does my existance become redundant to you? ;p

Thursday, February 05, 2004

For trivia fanatics:

I actually drove at 120 km/h on the SLE last Sunday, when my family was going for a gathering at my uncle's place. Happily neither of my parents were in the car or else this magnificent feat of speeding 30 km/h above the limit would not be possible. I must acknowledge their absence =) for not being a distraction during the 'flying' period.

Anyone realises how a slight turn of the steering wheel at high speed takes you on a curve surprisingly quickly?

*cheerful grinz*

Taken off a distant acquaintance Jolene's blog, one of her favourite poems put up there:

btw Jolene's blog has shifted to here recently.

Technoliberation (Greg Egan)

It is not true that the map of freedom will be complete
with the erasure of the of the last invidious boarder
when it remains for us to chart the attractors of thunder
and delinate the arrhythmias of drought
to reveal the molecular dialects of forest and savana
as rich as a thousand human tongues
and to comprehend the deepest history of our passions
ancient beyond mythology's reach

So I declare that no corporation holds a monopoly on numbers
no patent can encompass zero and one
no nation has sovereignty over adenine and guanine
no empire rules the quantum waves

And there must be room for all at the celebration of understanding
for there is a truth which cannot be bought or sold
imposed by force, resisted
or escaped


Cool language, solid rhythms. Is there a point though? *evil grin* From what I recall of J so long ago, there is not necessarily a point, but when a point exists for her and the other cannot find it, it stings with measured force that makes its presence distinctly felt at some point in time. Typical debator.

J frankly needs no introduction sometimes, for such would not do her justice *laugh*.

I wonder how she is (groupmates for 1 term, long ago) but we now have few cultural references and languages in common. A pity.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

is there a 'right'? a 'wrong'? only understanding.

right/wrong is to bring in ideas of costs, debts, repayment and accounting.... when these are disputed on the basis of moral force (one says, you owe me, the other says, where? never!), war ensues.

I was reading L.E. Modesitt's Spellsong Cycle recently, he says - what is war? what is right? it is only what you believe in. His main character fought for the right of women to be educated and free to marry, free to hold her own accounts. This idea has no necessary fundamental truth to it; it is a belief, as was soon acknowledged by the main character. Yet she believed in it so strongly, while valuing human life, that she was willing to continue killing the enemy (who would similarly believe that such suffrage would be "against the natural order") to enforce this belief as a fundamental human right. Somewhere in the series, "Humans have lived and died for so long, but continue to fight because we cannot agree on which way of life is good." Some ideas are naturally conflicting, but I think such conflict need not be bloody. Unless one side refuses to acknowledge the existence of the other, and the other has sufficient power nearly equal to the first to resist such marginalization. Then war, over beliefs that do not die, erupts. You think?

So, beliefs are ephemeral? Yet some things are not easily forgiven, like personal enjoyment at another's expense (when that other clearly protested) followed by the cowardice to ever own up. Also, ignorance of another's pain when that other says a simple voluntary gesture from you would be her salvation of all she believes in, at a searing moment in time.... and that gesture forthcoming only much later at the brink of death and openly declared to be made for the purpose of salving one's GUILT at potential murder and not for the other's sake.... when formal trade-off had to be coerced out before any answer came at all.... and that the worst answer possible. Yet relief at an answer at last supersedes ancient pain, and life continues.

Cause, and effect. Beliefs, and freedom to hold them without dying for them but instead living to carry them out to whatever extent one feels honourable. What is life, really?

there is no 'right', no 'wrong'. No fire, or blood, or intentions not carried out. All these ideas are as the fog on the ground, easily dissipated. in the end, only, communications - the will to do so, the courtesy to plan, the time and personal energy set aside to act. Interpersonal communications breeds understanding and hopefully equal acceptance on both sides of each other's views, each other's selves.

Youth is no excuse for sin followed by cowardice, but I understand it is a perfectly valid reason from the point of view of some.... persuasion wins all in the end. This is life. I did hold off for 2 years to allow cowardice to mature with age, to allow friendship to grow and to help it grow. But as it were.....

there is no 'wrong'. I'm sure he feels sufficient or equivalent pain over being called out on his lack of courage too. Does that pain justify anything? Does my pain ever justify anything? Those of you whom I keep in regular contact with will know me as never justifying anything as absolutely true or right simply based on individual emotion.

If you believe it, it is true. If you do not believe it, then it may be true, but that truth is not claimed to be yours. And that's all there is to it.

Who's ever right? And who's ever wrong? *very slow smile*

I have, indeed, aged.

Miscellaneous activity for the day:

Cleaned. my. room. Haha. Hahahahaha. Now I can laugh at all the ppl who haven't cleaned their rooms... *wide-eyed innocence*

that would make it a grand total of: one month.

Took about half an hour.

I have been writing so much miscellaneous stuff because... still clearing debris.... methodically.... Coolly.... it takes a little time which I take as a gift to myself, at long last.

Every time I see my face in a mirror I am reminded that I have aged years... and continue to age every day.... which is a good thing. To pay adequate attention to time passing is to be aware of being alive. Edmund's question is applicable - what makes you wake up each day? what makes life meaningful?

From me, an elaboration: what makes you stand strong when the light of the sun begins to fade each day, and all becomes surrounded by a layer of greyness followed by night?

What makes the dawn come, the sun rise in one's heart?

It is a good question.

What makes me continue to smile gently when I see young ones, one of my cousins especially, look into my eyes and turn away from the darkness that they see therein, and fear through their inexperience? It is understanding, that once I was that age and in a similar position, and have now learnt through blood and tears and experience to be more charitable.

Charity.... is a virtue thrice valued: once by your friends, once by yourself, and once by your enemies - those who recognize kindness as kindness and not weak ineptitude.

My life has left its mark on my face. And to pretend otherwise is to create a lot of mental hassle for myself. So no matter how much I may wish to build bridges with my young cousin, there is no way unless she stops disrespecting me.... for my face? *smile* That is the greatest joke ever. And, finally, in the end, the joke is on her, for not seeing that which is plain as day - that for me to not hide such marks is probably safer than to stow them behind a pretty and innocent face only to kill her with surprise at my true self later. Even by accident. Massive instantaneous rearrangement of mind worldview giving mental shock that is possibly not dealt with properly....... dead is dead no matter how accidental.

And life is life.

Indeed, take it or leave it.

I choose to take it, and here come the consequences, even some slightly trivial ones such as family gatherings where I get 'qie'd by my own cousin. Haiz.



Monday, February 02, 2004

there's a new world to be won
do you hear the people sing

my place is here
i fight with you

one day more

pharmaco test, and coral reef project, and basic cleaning of my room
gotta get goin', cya

for what it's worth, this is really funny. I did this quiz 4 times with mostly different answers (including the key question of "What do you think of Chinese?" and my as-non-AC-answer-as-possible "I love it! Give me more!", and got back the same (completely wrong) result of ..... ACS boy.... Wow!.... And I don't watch TV shows except movies, so at least one question is totally inapplicable....


considering i have known only 3 ACS boys in my whole life, with 2 of them being honorary ones of the JC....... *evil grinz*

it simply goes to show that quizzes are only quizzes *laughs for a couple of minutes* right. ok.

YOU ARE AN Anglo-Chinese School (Independent) BOY!
You are a sweet-natured person, though constantly
seeking attention and affirmation from your
peers. You are not very hard working...

Which Singapore School are YOU FROM?
brought to you by Quizilla

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