Short respite from a long hiatus, and a lesson learned

*msn: In need of self-esteem.

Is it not strange, that we (or most of us at least) are never happy with ourselves?

That it is inherent in us, to see only the bad about ourselves, the good discounted?

That we can and do see the little flaws, the imperfections, the little, minute scars that only we know, letting them build, grow, and overrun us with insecurities, horror, and utter self-loathing. That it simply becomes so, monstrously overwhelming, that all we can do is cower and shrink and try to hide away, muttering, in masochistic reinforcement, hushed and crazed – I-am-not-worthy-I-am-not-worthy.

That we say, so easily, so glibly, so light-heartedly “Oh, she’s beautiful, I hate her” and secretly mean it.

That I say, to myself, without even thinking (and then you wonder how I say things to myself without thinking them, aha), “Oh, I am not beautiful, I hate me”.

It’s not just me. Right?

Anyway, lesson learned (I hope.):

Not to cut off half my hair in hopes of Cinderella-like transformation despite various (and I do mean various) past experiences as evidence that the utmost and extreme contrary will instead occur.

Grow, damnit!

Yes, yes, I will write more soon. Job-hunting is a dismal, and decidedly uninspiring process I only go through because the prospect of being penniless is much, much worse.

So as not to keep you hanging..

*msn: Trying to quiet the voice in my head, it

Speckles of yellow gold-leaf/yellow-gold leaves, translucent floating slivers in the glow of a sun-like street lamp.

I felt like falling…into a pinkish-purple softly cloudy sky.

There is really nothing like the feeling, nay, the absolute and certain knowledge that you have, yet again, wantonly squandered whatever luck the universe threw your way when it gave you near 14 days in which to read, swallow, basically breathe in your very worst subject, and you don’t.

Two real days of studying left – typing this is giving me that creepy-crawly-ticklishly gruesome feeling that starts just beneath the skin on the back of your hands, spreading upwards along the funny elbow bone, then the spine and tensing every hair to the point you’re sure they’re gonna just fall off and you wish you could do the same.

So I will stop now.

No blogging till after Thursday, at least.

Be good people.

For my dad.

*msn: Slipping into mediocrity.. - Didn't know when I started, don't know how to stop, at first I screamed in silence, and then I just forgot.

I was going to write about religion and stuff (because this, along with racism, and homosexuality, is something which I always have a lot to say about) but I think that today is not the day.

No, today is Father’s Day, and family is, as it should be, above all else.

It’s funny how I spent the first 18 years of my life dying to get away, but now that I am, I wish I was home, and that I hadn’t wasted those 18 years.

Actually, no, it isn’t funny, it’s sad, but let’s not dwell.

So here it is, for my dad, who although will probably never read this, deserves the dubious immortality of print, the only kind I can give him besides my even more dubious memory.

This is just a simple thank you, dad;

For the music classes you forced me to attend, which took me 14 years to love.

For the Swiss rolls every Sunday after said classes to cheer me up.

For the cupboards full of stuffed toys – one for every time I fell sick. (I was a very unhealthy child.)

For the shoulder-rides at zoos – I never felt so tall. (and at this rate never will.)

For filling the house with songs from long-past years – they’re still my favourite kind.

For the lamest jokes I’ve ever heard which still make me laugh today.

For answering almost every question I ever had, patiently, without resorting to things like “Because God made it so.”

For helping me find the answers to the questions that you couldn’t.

For teaching me that crying doesn’t help, that being afraid of trying really only hurts myself, and to always, above all, be kind.

For showing me all the beauty in the world, and how to seek it out.

For every reprimand and punishment, not giving up on me, even when I wished you would. (I am stupid, yes.)

For reminding me everyday that I am loved, without saying a single word.

Perhaps one day I could do the same, but for now, simple words will have to do.

I could say thank you forever, and it would never be enough.

God bless you Dad (and Mum and Ee too).

Happy Father’s Day.

Amoeba Shan’s Musical Baton

*msn: Depressing myself is fun! - Neil Gaiman is COMING TO MELBOURNE. Oh my God oh my God oh my God...*toes curl*

Would I be exaggerating if I said I could not live without music? No. Without it, there would be a whole world of emotions I would never know. So fittingly, the following is my very first-est meme. (if that’s what it’s called.)

Total Volume of Music files on my computer:

4.68 Gb. (would be more if I had broadband…*sigh*…)

The Last CD I bought was:

I…urm…don’t buy CDs. Not for myself anyway. Last one I bought was Jamie Cullum’s…something…for my brother.

However I CAN tell you the last song I downloaded (can yeah can yeah?): Smells Like Teen Spirit, the Tori Amos version.

Song playing right now:

The Servant - Cells

5 songs I listen to alot or that mean alot to me:

The ones I listen to a lot change often enough that the list should not be taken seriously for more than a week after publication. Means a lot, however, lasts years. Not going to make the distinction here though, so have fun figuring it out. :oP

Joseph Arthur – Honey And The Moon

Oasis – Don’t Look Back In Anger

Westlife – Queen Of My Heart

Bread – Aubrey

Dishwalla – Every Little Thing

AND MORE...

Sting – Fields Of Gold

David Gates – Goodbye Girl

Oasis – Stand By Me

Oasis – Don't Go Away

Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water

Roxette – Fading Like A Flower (and a lot more)

Keane – Somewhere Only We Know

R.E.M. – It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

Hootie and the Blowfish – Let Her Cry

Sam Phillips – If I Could Write (and if anyone has this in mp3 format I’d be eternally grateful if you’d send it my way)

Hoobastank – The Reason

Evermore – It’s Too Late

Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah

Wyclef Jean – Wishing You Were Here

Missy Higgins – Ten Days

Paul McCartney – Maybe I'm Amazed [corrected]

Evanescence – My Immortal

Little Birdy – Beautiful To Me

Rusted Root – Send Me On My Way

Third Eye Blind – I'll Never Let You Go

Saliva – Rest In Pieces

Peter Gabriel – Book Of Love

Gin Blossoms – Hey Jealousy

Creeper Lagoon – Under The Tracks

John Denver – Annie's Song

Adam Sandler – I’ll Grow Old With You (from Wedding Singer)

Aqua – We Belong To The Sea

Beach Boys – California Dreaming

Beth Orton – Roll The Dice

Blessed Union Of Souls – I Believe That Love Will Find A Way

Counting Crows – Holiday In Spain

Creedence Clearwater Revival – Have You Ever Seen The Rain

Okay I have to stop here, because I’ve basically started going through my playlist (hence the sudden alphabetization) and trying my best to pick out a few songs here and there but I can’t!! I just can’t!! There are too many. Each song on my hard drive is there because I like/love it and most of them mean something to me to some degree or another.

Anyway I really doubt that looking at a list of songs I like is going to help you understand/compartmentalize me in any way (Nicky will attest to that I’m sure) so if you’re looking for song recommendations, just ask okay?

5 people I’m passing the baton to:

Vee Vien

Nicky

Kevin

Gemynd RP (because he has the most insane list of singers/bands in his Friendster profile)

Angel-la (because I’d like to see an update on her page, haha)

Ends and odds and ends

*msn: Breathing, at times, seems a luxury, and doing nothing pure hedonism

A matter of opinion

And I think this one makes a lot of sense.

I suppose…there is a time and place for things like anthems, but there should never be restrictions for the feelings behind singing them.

Situation update

I have finished 2 out of 3 papers (yes, I managed to finish reading my metaphoric file from that previous post on potential) and, as I have been telling everyone who asked, this is pretty much how it was:

The construction of various new financial theories to support my answers which would not have made sense otherwise.

Frequent referring to formula sheet for likely-looking formulae to apply. (E.g., (thinking) Ah…Call valuations eh…must be this formula…it starts with “C =”…hahahahahahahaha…*stops short*…Coupons?? Sheeeeeee…)

I am convinced that sometime in the near future I will either be both bodily deported and permanently declared persona VERY non grata for lowering the average IQ of Australia, or I will be awarded a Nobel Prize in Finance. Or similar.

*crossed fingers*!

I have since retired to the library to study for my last and final subject, the entire duration of which was spent near-comatose due to the indecipherable Swedish accent of my lecturer who is, apparently, of genius-type proportions.

It is an interesting note, though, that the only time I managed to understand him was when he whipped out a small fluffy purple stuffed toy and made it move around the projector.

It was also, possibly, the only time I was fully awake.

The file is therefore now lying open in front of me, and I think that’s excellent progress for the day.

Little things amuse me…

Like catching sight of the girl who went up to my boyfriend about 6 months after we got together and declared that he had bad taste in girls.

No, I don’t know why that amused me but it does. I still laugh about it. Especially whenever I see her, which is often since she’s in the same university.

She must think I’m really weird. Boyfriend does anyway. :oP

Ode to a Mayfly

I think it would be quite difficult to find someone so unimaginative as to not be intrigued by the life of a mayfly.

Think about it:

“…The nymph stage may last from several months to as much as several years, with a number of molts along the way…[they then] live very briefly as adults, as little as a few hours but more typically a day or two…” – Wikipedia.com

Isn’t that just so freakishly amazing??

To spend years buried in mud at the bottom of a pond, finally emerging as a beautiful, delicate wisp of a thing, all gauze and frills and glints of wing-light, only to live for just one day.

A friend said it was like living just to die.

I disagree though; I think it’s like living just to live.

For the one single sublime moment – the first-last-only sunrise-sunset of their lives.

Maybe that’s why we keep living, waiting always waiting always hoping for something better to come along.

So do our dreams die when we do? Or the other way around?

I am proud to be Malaysian

*msn: It’s not supposed to be conditional.

First off, I must confess, for a university student living in the much-hyped Information Age, I am sadly never up to date with *ugh* news and *double ugh* current events.

(I think it’s called ignorance is bliss…)

But on the rare occasion that I do venture into the dark and seedy side of the world, I never leave without a reminder of why I should never return.

And so this time was no exception.

I’m much too lazy to hunt down the links; they seem to have disappeared from where I originally found them - The Star - but don’t take my word for it and hunt them down yourself if you like.

But basically the gist of it was this:

1. The Malaysian government (I think it’s the government anyway. Well some big big person) has suggested singing the Negaraku prior to the showing of films in the cinema.
2. The government of China has made it compulsory for all (ALL) China-based webmasters and bloggers to register their websites and blogs respectively with the government to facilitate scrutiny and (almost-legendary, this) possible censorship of their contents.

Right, I know the first one has been discussed to death (check out Kevin’s blog for example) and is nowhere near as far-reaching or unreasonable as the second, but I will have my say! *shakes fist weakly (lack of sleep) at computer screen*

Although the first one seems to be just another in a series of odd suggestions from the people that we (frighteningly enough) elect to make such suggestions and the second seems to be on the verge of infringing on human rights, the fundamental message behind both is much the same.

LOVE THY COUNTRY.

(or in the case of the second, pretend to.)

What saddened me most, I guess, was that they thought it necessary for such measures to begin with.

Why the patriotic singsong?

Why the gags?

I cannot help but feel that this is akin to either last-stage marriage counseling, where the parties involved are told to just behave the way they did when they were in love in hopes of prompting the feelings that prompted the original behaviour to begin with.

Or a crazed stalker writing “You love me you love me you love me you love me” over and over again in his/her (you see, I don’t discriminate) own blood on letter after letter to his/her object of adoration, hoping, perhaps, in time, that they will be persuaded so.

For the government of China, my opinion stops here. I’ve only been there once. For a day. Which I spent shopping. And I have no idea what it’s like to live there, nor if I’d have had anything worth censoring to say. But you know and I know that although too much freedom can be a bad thing, too little is far, far worse.

For Malaysia however, I believe I have every right to say anything I like. (Within reason, of course. And you have every right not to read.)

And so this is what I say:

Is it perfect? No.

Are they trying to make it perfect? Not hard enough, I sometimes think.

But I love it anyway because it’s home. And if the government wants me to stand and sing the national anthem before settling myself in for a two-hour movie, I will.

Will I feel silly? Maybe.

But if singing it will somehow remind those around me that there was once a time when we had no country, no name, no leaders to care more about us than about themselves (and yes, I do believe that deep down, they do care, even if just a little); when we had no song to sing even if we wanted to, when we were…no one;

Then yes I’ll bloody sing it, the way I would have if I had been there the first time it was sung.

And then…I’ll sing it again.

A different point of view...

*msn: - If your only message to me is going to be "GO STUDY" please don't bother.

You know how people often wax lyrical on the pain of being on the outside looking in?

Sometimes, I think...it's just as bad to be on the inside looking out:

A waste of space indeed

*msn: do not disturb…i am studying…

(Before we begin I must point out that MSN nick was typed by Boyfriend, hence the unforgivable non-capitalization of ‘i’...)

Today Boyfriend and I were discussing the current situation of a mutual friend. Not to give away too many details, for fear of identification, and possible, well, “unhappiness”, on said party’s behalf. Suffice to say, this person is one of the most brilliant people (sometimes I think the devil is involved…and then I have to resist the urge to ask for his number) we have ever had the good fortune to befriend.

This is the kind of person you would vote “Most Likely To Succeed”, clichéd as that may sound, the kind you wish your children would someday marry. (After all, someone once told me that you should always pick someone smarter than you as your life partner to ensure your offspring be, consequently, smarter than you as well. Considering the very obvious flaw in that statement, I assume that this means roughly half the population should always be kept in ignorance of this statement. Please check to ensure you are not one of them.)

However, (and this is where the fear of negative repercussions set in), however, this does not seem to be the case as yet. To be sure, said friend is in a stable, suitable job, with above-average pay. (I would kill for a job like that.)

But it’s hardly change-the-world stuff now, is it? And I was in the midst of loudly proclaiming as such to Boyfriend, jabbering on (as usual) about the total waste of potential it was, when my dear friend Irony came up and (again, as usual) poked me in the eye.

I mean, literally, poked me in the eye – caught myself on the edge of my file in the midst of violent gesticulating while lying on the bed.

Ungraceful antics aside, this was my International Finance lecture notes file, which I’d been trying (I cannot emphasize this word enough) to read and finish before the 8^th, i.e. the exam.

Needless to say I hadn’t gotten very far. And I guess that statement could be applied to my entire academic career from the moment I entered university up till now and to the end of this time-wasting entry.

I don’t think I’m a stupid person. (Feel free to disagree, but I’d probably just ignore you.) There is no humble way to say this, but I’ll try – I could do so much better if I’d only stop trying and actually did something.

And then it occurred to me as well that for all that time, I’ve been blaming everybody and using anything as an excuse for failing to achieve, well, pretty much anything.

My parents wouldn’t let me pursue the degree I wanted to pursue. (Not that I even knew/know what I wanted/want to do.)

I don’t think academic results are as important as some people make them out to be. (Classic sour grapes.)

I crumble under the pressure of high expectations. (Pooh on me. Too lazy to rise to meet them is more like it.)

My dreams just aren’t academic-oriented. (To be perfectly honest, they aren’t anything-remotely-close-to-work oriented.)

And the list goes on.

Thinking about all this…I feel sick. The utter lack of gratitude to my parents, the non-existence of self-respect and the complete waste of my life is just appalling.

APPALLING.

The only person to blame for my gross underachieving is me.

Me for being too lazy to do anything that sounds remotely challenging.

Me for not having the self-discipline to stop reading bloody books and TV scripts and blogs and other pointless piles of words which will still be there when my exams end.

Me for not accepting the fact that I’ve grown up, dammit, and I should start acting my age.

I mean, look at what Boyfriend has to do to my MSN nick to get my attention (and stop others from paying attention to me).

I don’t have the right to say anyone hasn’t fulfilled their potential, because I’m so far gone I probably don’t have any left.

In fact, I don’t have the right to ignore people who think I AM stupid because let’s face it, I am.

Maybe today’s ‘epiphany’ of sorts won’t drastically make me into some ‘uber-nerd’ overnight. Maybe I’ll still slack off and probably I won’t do as well as I can in my upcoming exams.

But at least I had it. And I’m writing it down for all to see. So even if I forget, maybe someone will remind me.

Because today should be the beginning of the end, and I want this to be true so badly that it hurts.

I have to apologise for all the clichés because I hate them too. It’s just that…look at the time…

My New Role Model

*msn: I want to be Sonya Thomas...


http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/g/a/2005/05/26/eat.DTL



La la la la la...life could be a dream, sh-boom!