so much it can mean to so many people.
i woke from an entire slough of insane dreams almost fever-like in their headiness; dreams of squirt guns and running and seaside shanties peopled by faces i almost recognised and almost recalled, but didn't. (i know exactly who to blame for the water-gunning motif-- lionel shriver-- but who or what inspired the beach-house game of tag? i don't know, i can't-- or perhaps my subconscious won't-- answer that). the wind sighed through every window in the house, tossing curtains in fits of pique and fruitless protests ranging in intensity from half-hearted to all-out fury.
the watchpost of the four winds
this wind continues, and i feel restless. i consider going out for my haircut, or some shopping, but settle for a cup of balmily-citrusy lemon vinegar instead (appropriately diluted, of course). i have shreds of choreography running through my head, but nothing is coherent; i have half-made plans and half-born dreams that seem destined to list in apathy for the rest of today. in a word, i am slacking, the typical grunge almost-still-teen unwilling to get up and move.
the wind crescendoes to a wail in the back of my house, while its companion singer in the front rustles the leaves of the rose of india outside my window a tad more forcefully. the sky is a nondescript gray (gray so much more poetic than the bleaker grey, somehow), blending somewhat non-committally into the grey (yes, this is grey) tiles of my neighbours' houses.
the streets are quiet. i hear nothing of the screaming that emitted from one house or another yesterday. yesterday, which was strange, rather. i pulled a muscle in my neck, found a monitor lizard lurking about buona vista (which i reported to the station control, but failed to see what became of it since i was running late for dance), sat at eunos mrt waiting for the bus after liren gave michelle and i a lift to the east and realised all over again how much i prefer taking late, late, late buses. i'm okay with reaching home at one-ish no matter how tired i am, so long as i don't have to deal with an entire squash of humanity. bus 10 AFTER 10 ftw :) perhaps if i drove it wouldn't be so bad, but i suspect not-- there's a reason i only like to drive at night, despite how very lost i get.
the same way i get lost in my words, your thoughts--
enough dithering. things i want to say:
i) krystle chiang i am JEALOUS. i want to see stars too! omg. but i had no money in any case (yes i just updated my bankbook and i feel like killing something. WHAT. HAPPENED. SOME ATM GREMLIN IS SIPHONING OFF MY DIGITS). but they sang the night starts here!! although they didn't do personal. hmms. did they sing elevator love letter?
ii) tatt convention starts tmr!! dude can you imagine how cool it would be to get tattooed by chris garver? i'm just saying-- i don't think he's tattooing in sg, but like i mean WOW. although i would really prefer kat von d haha her black and white tatts are so classic, and somehow as beautiful as colour is, perhaps on skin-- there's just smething about black and white, its stark simplicity even when it embodies every possible shade in between.
iii) looking forward to quasi-creature dinner on sat! PLEASE don't let me down haha.
iv) things worth fighting for, and growing up, and all that-- just a thought. because (i forget whose blog i read-- chu's?) there was something about making new year resolutions somewhere, and another about how you SHOULDN'T make new year resolutions because it's the cause of major depression when you fail.
i didn't make new year resolutions this year, but i think that was more out of sheer jadedness than anything else. since when have the resolutions i made ever been actualised? my patience is as quick-fire implosive as ever, my temper as impossible as ever-- in fact, i rather think it's gotten ruddy worse, and not in the sense of "i'm angry so hell yeah i'm gonna do this right"-- something that i could/can use for strength and will.
but in the failure of even a token effort to form some sort of intention for self-improvement i realised something even worse-- this is part of growing, not up, but old. you no longer believe-- santa is a commercialised figure of roly-poly unhealthiness used to trick youngsters or to fan the flames of christmas spending, disney tales are politically-incorrect feminism-dampening anecdotes designated to make us all unhappy and dissatisfied for life, wishing on the first star of every evening is, well, wishful thinking. this cynicism eats into my--our-- very being. it's a sign that we're no longer able to-- i don';t know-- dream?-- beyond the next audi or aston martin, the next waterfront condo, the newest rihanna-helmed tattoo heart collection.
i DON'T want to be reduced to this.
making resolutions is a sign that there's something out there worth fighting for. i've given up on so much else-- sometimes raging in bitter, bitter fury, sometimes simply in sheer resignation and quiet heartache. i no longer think of actually becoming a journalist or a writer-- although i still wish i could write like janet fitch or lionel shriver. i no longer dream of-- i don't know, probably fairly stupid things like, uh, marrying jj lin or misaki or something (i;m not saying i ACTUALLY did dream of such things, you understand. ok, maybe the former, maybe a little. OI. stop sniggering. i was a teenager i can blame it all on raging hormones. and anyway i think the whole lucify thing is so over haha without the crazy hair and the makeup they're just not my cup of tea). i no longer rage, rage, against the dying of the light (or the night, in my nocturnal case). i don't think of becoming a full time actress, theatre or tv or otherwise-- i've grown to accept that some dreams can only take you so far on a wing and a prayer before even the last motor cranks out.
do i still think of being a counsellor, or of volunteering for sos? yes, in a way, but i have to wonder how much good i would do, with my weltanschauung as bleak as it is. i definitely no longer fight to maintain or establish the whole friendship-is-paramount or the whole feminine-equivalent of bros before hos, because i think-- or rather i know-- that it bloody well isn't going to happen, and there is no point tying someone else down when they want to leave. i think my sister has come to the same conclusion, which is kind of sad-- at least i held on to the illusion for a few years more than her.
ha. we would all be a lot happier if we spent more time with our cat(s) and less time with our fake friends, to quote phin wong. sometimes i'm tempted to amend that-- take away the fake and you probably have it just about right, as well.
i don't know where this is going, but i think-- maybe some things are worth fighting for. more things than a spree or a sale or whoo yummy food, which seems to be all my life is about these days. i disgust myself.
maybe i really ought to make some resolutions after all.
v) this is cause for celebration-- no, not that tights and leopard prints are back (although i;m quite happy about that, frivolous as it is)-- but that THERE ARE NO LECTURES ON WEDNESDAYS CONFLICTING WITH BLAST CLASS THIS SEM. yay!!!! MEANS I DO NOT HAVE TO SKIP LECTURES LIKE I DID FOR SEM 1! (yes, although i didn't show it, i really did feel awfully guilty for attending 1.5lectures for that module)
for chrissake PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do NOT put any tutorials or anything else on wednesdays. PLEASE.
and so far my friday is free. but i don't think that's going to last they'll probably put in some public law tut or something. blehhhhh
what a schizophrenic post. but oh well off i go to read shriver's we need to talk about kevin over another mug of vinegary goodness. more about dance the next time, i've spent long enough here.
the walls they close in
the air it runs out
we're left with nothing but a shadow of doubt