"what's the name of the word for things not being the same always...the thing that lets you know time is happening" - Delirium in Brief Lives
Change. A small amount of money, a big difference. I stand on a threshold. My life as a student is about to come to an end. It's so close, yet it is a big step. I have always pride myself of being an avid adventurer, but I do not feel enthused now. Working life should be an exploration for me, a something-new, but why do I feel like I've been through it, like I've already retired because my liver can't take it anymore.
Pimples seem to be a modern phenomenon. During one of my tutorials today, while being bored by the other group's haphazardly put together presentation, I started picking at my white spots. And as they continued droning about the inconsequential consequence of some less developed country's balance of payments deficit, I ruminated about the surpluses on my face, them pimples.
Read any books of yesteryears and there is no mention about it. Where are those wimpled medievel maiden rants in ye olde English about their pimples? Where are those lithe Little Women, giggling while squeezing their pusses out?
Neither have I seen any period drama with any lines about pimples. And you would think they would be filled with it, considering their affinity for trivial tattle and small talk. Perhaps it is not the thing to chatter about in high society. Is there no great authority whom they could hear a pimple story from?
Zits truly is a child of modern times. Teen flicks would have at least a segment devoted to it. Read a teen diary and there must be a story arc about the writer's battles with the clinging barnacles. It's never been more exposed, well, maybe less exposed than when it popped up right before Prom Night.
It all sounds very teeny and adolescent like, which makes me wonder why I'm still having them.
Part One
Everyone loves reviewing things. We like to take a step back and ponder over something which we have just seen, heard, tasted, felt. As you walk out of the cinema after a movie, you can hear a whole barrage of opinions. Not only is there a diversity of opinions, but there is also a great diversity in the way opinions are expressed. The boisterous ones would just blurt out their usually uninsightful comments about the movie. Some have to be coaxed by their friends, 'So, What yar think?', although in truth they can't wait to give their opinions about it. There would be the shy boyfriend, mumbling his opinions to his girlfriend. I'm sure even the silent ones have a review in keeping. Beneath the silent exterior is a review broiling into a broth, just waiting for the crowd to disperse before it is sputted out.
There also seem to be some standard phrases used. 'Not bad lar', used when one thinks the movie is mediocre but also frequently used when one thinks the movie is great, but need to keep their cool about it in case others thought it was cheesy. Notice how chun or its crasser counterpart 'damn chun lar', is never used to describe the whole movie, but just certain parts in it. If you thought the movie rocked, it would be a 'damn good lar', chun or syiok is reserved for those kick ass kung fu stunts, or for those pretty babes and hunks.
Part Two
I was surfing the other day, when I clicked into this blog. It had a pink wallpaper, the title was in various shades of pink with purple (very close to a pinkish hue kind of purple, actually) flowers strewn all over the webpage. Oh, not to mention my cursor turned into a wide-eyed bunny as well. Thankfully, I survived the rare brain debilitating condition of visual diabetes. Slightly captivated by its gaudiness, I read a little of it. Also, she had this section listing down her favourite things. And although our tastes in 'favourite things' slightly (euphemism) differs, I thought it was a great idea.
Thus it is born, my new reviews section of my 'favourite things'. Funny how we sometimes find inspiration in the most museless of areas.
It's 3.20 am. I have just finished my homework. Yes, homework. Doing bonafide juvenile homework in university. These are not one-off assignments, these are exercises to be handed in, ticked and marked on a regular basis. I have not had homework since I left secondary school. From college to the penultimate year of university, my lecturers have committed to their announcements made at the beginning of each semester, 'you are all young mature adults and it is your choice whether you want to do the tutorial questions'. Joyful, joyful.
My new homework giving lecturer certainly stands out, like luscious hair among the professors.
Strangely, while I would usually mourn through the lectures like how a bored attendee at a funeral mourns for himself, I now listen to what the 'preacher' has got to say. All for the simple reason that I know what is going on after doing my homework.
To hell with the notion that we university students should be responsible for our own actions or inactions, I need to be given a little prod. Self-motivation? Bah, not good enough. 'I'll put a note next to the name of those who did not hand in the homework', I'll instantly scramble to the library to borrow the necessary readings.
Which is why, instead of lying plopped on my bed after coming back from the pub as I usually would, I sat straight up on my chair and started thinking and typing away, though with a slightly slurred mind and confused fingers. 3.30 am. Plopped!
What makes a person want to publish a journal? Are journals not hidden vaults to place our Thoughts and Experiences, never to be perused by anyone except the writer? Like how truths are kept from parents, opinions held from friends, and small penises tucked quickly into pants?
However, in spite of how fearful we are of the consequences, we want to shout them out, to stand on the rooftops of the world and whoosh out our very own barbaric yawps. We want to hear our inadequacies and fears echoing back to us and not to feel ashamed nor fear it, knowing that they make up a part of who we are as much as our better selves.
I have never been a pioneer. Never the first. The starter? You have got to be kidding. This is my little late addition of words and thoughts in an era overflowing with information. I don't believe there's too much though. If anything, we live in an age which feels omniscient and yet, so much is still unknown. Surely all the most important questions in life have yet to be answered - life after death, the meaning of life, the home of happiness - these are still great puzzles, it is to me anyway. Of course to some, life is a lot less puzzling. There are those who have steadfastly and confidently assured me that the answers have been found - ''it's in the Bible'', they carolled my death fears away, ''the answer to the meaning of life ? Why, it's forty-two of course!'', drone Deep Thoughtists, ''Wahh, after get UK degree, sure can get good job, can be rich, get good wife, then can be happy'', the cheery Aunties blasted as they hand me Ang Pows.
I guess this is what this blog is about, a personal journey of thoughts and questions, in search of answers, and although an absolute one may never be found, i do hope to be a little closer to it when the sun sets and the evening comes.