Saturday, September 11, 2004
i took a trip to borders. i swear i'm awed by the amount of books i haven't read. i get impressed rather easily i must admit. i was bowled over by the fact that my friend actually read "About A Boy".. i thought it was this super thick huge book that Vikram Seth wrote that i could never have bothered to even touch. i'm sorry you must excuse my ignorance, i got confused with "A Suitable Boy".
fuck this shit. fuck prelims. fuck books. fuck studying. fuck even those books i used to love casting a shadow on whilst i stroll by languorously at borders. fuck them. fuck them all. have u ever wondered what if these books aren't really so thought provocative after all? maybe their languange and presentation are nothing spectacular. maybe Xiaxue's blogging is the next phase of literature. it's just like abstract art. i could tell you a thousand and one things about it; you could stick a finger into my face and laugh scornfully, you could NOT believe me, i wouldn't be mad. you could be right for all i know. so i splash a couple of balloon paints on the ceiling and that makes me Joycepicasso because some doddering fool at La Salle put an interpretation to my works and hails me the next michaelangelo?
i'm feeling exceptionally resentful and fatigued tonight. i don't know why. it's becoming a traitmark catchphrase now.. "i don't know why". i don't know why i'm uptight. i don't know why i feel so antagonised when my maid tries to make friendly overtures to my dog. and i don't know why i feel so piqued when he actually responds with immediate glee. and i don't know why my blood curdles when i see her fondling his ears or feeding him and giving him orders to sit stand go out or catch. i don't know why hostility feeds my brain when someone implies that i'm not "seh" enough to handle a dog bite maturely and calmly. i resent it. everything is just inputs for me to loathe and degrade with malicious contumely.
i'm begrudging. i'm morose. i'm a poison apple.
i give up. i'm fed up. it's just prelims. 2 months ago, i thought i could conquer anything with ample preparation. my ideas amd smiles faded with the caustic sadness and realisation that not only is there NOT ample preparation, there is going to be lots of tears and wasted sadness.
but fuck. it's just prelims right? a levels are more important. NO... prelims are important if you want to apply overseas. well you know what, fuck overseas. what's the point of having A levels if unis and scholarship grants only look at your prelim results. i refuse to accept even the slightest possiblity that this might be the case. i shall study now with the end in mind. but who am i kidding. there's no more studying to be done. prelims are starting next week.
i'm fed up. have i told you that? mondaine. weary, discouraged and melancholy. i'm more than satiated with pre prelim anxieties and the fall in expectations. the only thing that's spurring me to study and crush in one more ounce of my being into one more second of studying are the faces of joy and satisfaction of my classmates when they get back their results. contrast them with mine.. and there you go.. you have a rather unmotivating spur to jolt me into drive, to rev up my engine when i'm already driving at drained speed.
perhaps one reason why people give up is because they've heard of that ladder story. the higher you go, the harder you fall. it's like this with me. the same with maths. i'm petrified that all these weeks of practising and hard kneading will still get me nowhere-when i look at the exam paper and blank out for the penultimate time.
i'm fascinated with Edward Norton's character in "Fight Club". there's a new resolution to be made after prelims. i see a glimmer of a shadow, but no light. but it's ok.. cos you see.. with shadows around, you can bet there will almost certainly be light around the corner. so.. new resolution is: get the book to chew and chew and chew and never spit out the curd. i shall imbibe it, its full swig of cidar panging taste because i feel like Edward Norton's character. that surreal moving figure. everyone's a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of another, a person who thinks too much before he acts; to show the crotch or the arse when he squeezes past a lady seated on a bench he wonders.. we all wonder.
so i shall be a monotony. that person who dies from insomnia. who wakes up suddenly and has no idea how he got there. when you can't sleep, and your dying to, and your eyes are bloodshot and burning acid, everything seems far away, seems muted. your reactions, slow moving, with only vowels coming out of your mouth with the undeliberated slowness of a whale-like Dory in "Emo Nemo".
today i straddled that line i always wanted to straddle. seesawing tergiversate, with eyes fixed innocuously ahead as if not wanting to look behind and see two oncoming cars crashing into me from behind. this is what humans do eh? look dead ahead. pretend they don't know, or delude themselves into thinking there's nothing behind, stick around with a pumping heart and geared up tingling muscles, walking straight on. trying to smite that little psyche in their hearts to rush adrenaline, trying to steady their nerves as coolly as they can.. until they can stand it no more and decide to pick up their skirts and run for dear life... run on and on till they finally look behind, ashamed at being so afraid to turn back in the first place.
but i digress.. today i straddled that dividing line in the small street just round the curve off my house. i always wanted to do that. you see.. the road's straight on, unbending, with the yellow evanescent lights pasting little circles on the tarmac, inviting you to avoid stepping into its radius. so what i do is i listen to the most stirring lavendar smelling song that resurrects roots of emo's and memo's and post-its in my mind, stare straight on, oscillate between the two halves of the line and walk on like there's just me against the world, cursing and breathing in the reality of everything.
then i turn off the road and cut into the bend leading to my house, eyes dotting the houses around me. then a fatal heart stabbing lyric matched with an equally heartwrenching tune comes on my zen boy just as i reach my gate, and i get so tempted to walk one more round with this song in my ears before i go home. but i never do. i open the gate, cast one meaningful glance round the silent barren land and turn my back on it like i do everyday, rushing into familiar smells of doggy breath and oily pies and raucuous merry laughter from the teevee. Joyce Lim unzipped at 10:07 PM with 3 comments
Comments:
think we're both going through a very tough phase in our lives...hope u have the courage and determination to see this through and come out on top...we all know u will do well cuz u are that smart...and u haf lots of potential...do not let all that go to waste...
Go the distance and achieve what u want to achieve in life!!
Ok...time for me to mug too...heh...
ZL
Go the distance and achieve what u want to achieve in life!!
Ok...time for me to mug too...heh...
ZL
# posted by 
: 9/15/2004 9:06 PM
: 9/15/2004 9:06 PM
well yes prelims are rather annoying aren't they? i'm starting to feel like it's the A levels already. i keep thinking about all the stuff i'm going to do when prelims end.
but anw thanks for encouraging me. guess we both have to work hard too
PS. don't leave initials! i don't know what ZL stands for haha
but anw thanks for encouraging me. guess we both have to work hard too
PS. don't leave initials! i don't know what ZL stands for haha
Dearie I lyked that. A nyce entry about..nothing! adheres 2 Joyce’s opinion that a writer’s premise is the quotidian and extraordinary events are best left 2 jounalists. The thing with entries about nothing is e fakt tt they re usually boring,but dis caught ma eye :) -yan
Post a Comment
# posted by : 9/19/2004 1:44 AM
: 9/19/2004 1:44 AM