Henceforth moving to http://penandnote.blogspot.com/

Can't sleep/really want this/please please please !!!

In my brother's room to escape the aircon servicing but woah, so smart because of course they have to do his aircon at the same time and I am really.... TRAPPED. i hate it, i have self diagnosed claustrophobia. And I abhor


1. Men shuffling around
2. Being airconless in this stifling heat, really
3. Perennial loud vacuuming
4. Being Foodless
5. And... Phoneless


Aiyaaaa , whiney beech

Actually it would be something to do with writing. Or this. Or that. There is a list.

Lucky, because writing doesn't have to be a job. There are alot of things that you can enjoy doing outside of your career. I have passion in quite a fair amount of things; basically I am either extremely enthusiastic or have zero interest in something. I tend to have obsessions with whatever intrigues me... a heat-of-the-moment type of person, but the depth with which I want to understand something is really ernest. So I always wanted that energy to translate into something. But at some point of time, reality surfaces to ground you. Or does it not? Or maybe, it's not a "now or never" and one day everything will fall into place.


“You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, 'Why not?'” ; George Bernard Shaw.

Bonne weekend.

Delete.

So my bed routine keeps getting increasingly extensive and it's actually somewhat mentally exhausting ( wanted to say challenging but hmmmmm ) because I'm constantly at war with myself! If anyone even knows what that means.. my mind influences my body to do something it is reluctant to perform. By that I meant stretching/light exercises/prrrr*yyy and it actually helps me to sleep really well and conjure sweeter dreams. But when I tried to venture into meditation ummm I really didn't know what I was doing. Just spacing out and snapping out of it when I felt confused. Fail.

Randomly felt a *gush of warmth* over something really insignificant... what a girly moment! SIck.

Also, blogging frequency has hit a deadly low ( maybe less than once a month ) but when I decided to click on my stats I got a shock at the hit count for last month! Seriously who even goes to this website anymore to stare at a canvas of dreary dramaholic words. Even I don't. Also because when I read what I wrote I feel... unfamiliarity.

Conclude that in this post I sound very very very strange.

Should delete.

March 8 dates the last time I ever wrote here; five months if you can count. I'll keep the unspoken in my bag of secrets, burgeoning as is usually is. Still, I want to tell tales of Hong Kong, Thailand, Taiwan, Canada and New York... Maybe when I have some pictures handy.

I have a new site, but I am also contemplating a Tumblr, which may be a short-lived fad but the beautiful pictures in the Tumblr community are really enticing! I miss having my virtual diary colored by pictures the way it used to be when I bothered traversing with my big black Canon... which I have since donated to my brother. Anyhow I intend to get a new camera soon and maybe, just maybe but also most likely, I will have the patience to upload pictures on my blog again!

Seldom does an exclamation mark find its way here so.. I'm thrilled. :)

Tonight the three of us sat on deep blue benches and drank milk tea with smooth jelly. The colloquy was half hearted. I let the jelly slide around my mouth, and I wonder about the Sanksrit romatha act of chewing cud. Then I remember how Totto-Chan used money to buy a piece of treebark. Totto-Chan's got to be one of my all time favourite characters. Then. Poiful jellybeans in strange desaturized colors. Like Harry Potter's vomit flavored beans.

John Milton: "It happened in monterey, a long time ago I met her in monterey in ole mexico, stars and still guitars and lucious lips as red as wine broke somebody's heart and i'm affraid it was mine it happened in montery without thinking twice I left her and threw away the key to paradise"

al pacino lovin.

February is brilliant, minus a few outliers, but I shall not talk of that.

BEAUTIFUL JANUARY! Is over. Beginning to enjoy being accountable to n o o n e.

No, I am taking flight from you this time.

takes you by surprise. 2011; feet off the ground.

Never thought I could be this broken, and the impact wasn't even directly upon me. That I chose to be oblivious to this suffering hurts me, and puts me to the deepest shame. For the first time I am really at a lost; there isn't much that I can do but it feels like there is so much I should do and I should have done, but it probably wouldn't really make a difference. I never thought it would hit me this way, and I don't think anyone who is free from such an experience will ever understand, the kind of blow it strikes, like a cold hard slap on your heart.

The nights get me the most; I am really afraid of being lonely in the dark. So I am well acquainted with the habit of midnight bingeing, just so to lace the brain with serontonin that magically makes me yawn. I used to take The Yellow Pill when the insomnia was incurable by virtue of counting sheep, but clearly thats just... bad. Sometimes I drink SleepyTime tea. It tastes odd and mints my mouth to numbness... well I grew to like it although I never finished the carton. Strangely enough the package that houses the sachets works better; there's something about a peaceful sleeping cartoon bear in his little sleeping cap that makes me tingle with warmth inside. And of course there is my trusty silk comforter, that's my favourite thing my mom ever bought for me. I dislike the color, but the fortune teller said it's good for me.

It is really awkward writing with streams of students lining up behind me; I am seated in the immediate vicinity of the printer.

Anyway.

Human beings are strange. Or maybe it's just me. Why would any sane person want to be sad? To feel hurt? It should be a natural inclination to be happy. So events and circumstances bring us down, but to be sad because of afterthoughts and basically things that are going on in your head doesn't quite make sense. They aren't kidding when they said, you can't control what happens but you can control how you react to it. Of course this isn't absolute. There is no reason to be happy when you lose a loved one. But I guess, we shouldn't swim in this pool of misery and float about helplessly.

I just find it funny, how we know the right choices to be happy but choose to indulge in sadness. Is it a choice? Is it?

4 minutes left for my Philosophy paper, but I am liberated prematurely, some 100metres away at Yushof Ishak Hall. I don't really know how to spell it. :) Which leaves me with a final paper on the 29th on the politics of Singapore; that means plenty of readings for me, the kind that you can never quite finish. I got the coursepack from Philip, and it was white and pristine and I wondered if he ever got his nose into those pages.

Pretty pertubed what to fill my days with after the exams. The job search goes without saying, and I am excited about Thailand. "What kind of industry are you looking at?" I don't know. I just want to be happy.

I swear, at the most random pockets of time I string together words in my mental diary but once I hit the NewPost button, my brain just shuts off. In any case, the examinations have commenced and I haven't done any substantial studying, but it will suffice for light expectations. Even in the exam hall I think of you. And that's not a good thing.

Midway through Cohen. He is hitherto a genius. I never realised I am a conservatist because I only learnt it as a political ideology...but really, i am a perfect small c conservative.

Premise 1: It is fine to beat children; to discipline them.

Premise 2: Elderly parents are in their second childhood.

Conclusion: It is fine to beat elderly parents, to discipline them.

The Endowment Effect basically describes the phenomenon whereby the value of an object is augmented when we possess it: when it becomes part of our endowment. It is the outcome of 2 interplaying effects: loss aversion and status quo bias. Loss aversion occurs when the disutility of giving up object exceeds the utility in acquiring it. Thus the status quo bias.

So I was studying for tomorrow morning's paper, and somehow decided to indulge in fantasy 'if-only' thoughts, and then it struck me how I must most certainly have been much happier at the same time last year. At random moments the blog archive is really valuable, and I was right.

In the November of 2009 I wrote about simple dates out with you, hand in hand, favourite naps films and dinners. The only premonition would have been the lyrics of Fragile.

Which goes like this:

If people can see right through my eyes
Like an open door that I can't disguise
I won't be afraid from the tears I cry
I'll not run I'll not hide this is how I feel inside
A little fragile

So caught in emotion and I'm overcome
As I'm falling down I come undone

Sometimes I feel like I'm alone
Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong
Sometimes I feel so frail so small
Sometimes I feel vulnerable
Sometimes I feel a little fragile

Something snapped and now, I feel insanely lonely. I miss us.

My heart needs some sort of a mental faculty because it is stupid with... love.

At Starbucks writing on the endowment effect, over an ice blended Toffee Nut Cream. I am in a strategic corner where I allow myself to be distracted by fluttering feet and shadows. It would be perfect if I had a nice plump shoulder to settle my wanting head into, poisoned by magical cologne blended with skin, diffused into my lungs and consciousness, bringing me many nights back to a favorite memory, as you press your pursed lips against the thin green straw and take in the darkened roast that engulfed the mug.