It's so incestrous, it's disgusting.
Quote of the half week.
Watched Transformers 3 earlier and I thought it was actually quite good compared to the military orgy 2 was. While it was by no means perfect, it was actually very watchable. Pretty worth the $7, IMO.
Aside, life's been hurtling past in a huge flash. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of things to do (As opposed to the gravity of things), but in another way I like how the brain feels like it has all cylinders firing. In a way, it's the thrill of ticking off things one by one from the agenda while fighting against time. Granted, it might be good to take things slower a little and just live a bit, and perhaps chill with the pile of new books that are untouched, but I guess there are pros and cons to everything.
Been also talking to a lot of people, some of which I haven't spoken to in some time. It's quite nice having to not talk about the same old same old, and also nice to hear differing opinions on various issues. Random: Sometimes, I think people should just stand forth and be judged instead of trying to hide because it's really impossible to hide.
Dinner calls.
For some reason, I've been adding plenty of Eminem to my iTunes. Hmmm.
Your moral compass is so fucked up, I would be surprised if you can find your way to the parking lot.
Sometimes I wonder why people try hiding what is in plain sight to everyone. Is it to save face? Is it to allow oneself to feel better? But if you're fucked up like that, you're fucked up like that. Morals and the curse of eugenics cannot be disguised. Everyone will find out sooner or later anyway.
Amusing much.
Sunday morning all alone at home. Adele's 21 on the stereo, a cup of coffee and newspapers all to myself. The only thing marring it is the weather. If only it were winter...
I think playing the same disc again and again lets one think deeper about the lyrics... And I don't think people ever forget. They just choose not to remember, or even if they do, sometimes they are at a lost about what to do.
Time flies doesn't it?
Okay I'm not making much sense...
It's better to be silent, right? Right? I shouldn't be weak.
Battered and exhausted and the night's barely starting. I think it's a very bad idea to have the night shift team play dodgeball and football before their shift. Supremely tiring. And it didn't help that the regulars were rather physical with their game. Been a long time since I've panted like a dog for so long. At least I got to exercise. Hmmm.
The first thing you should know about us is that we have people... Everywhere.
I think I can hold my liquor better than I can tolerate caffeine these days. The double expresso latte while chilling out in a quaint ulu cafe totally killed my sleep. Alcohol promotes sleep. Caffeine steals it.
The mind is a terrible thing. Sometimes you feel that you're in control of it... And sometimes it controls you. 5.35AM. Day shift in a bit. Let me get an hour of sleep at least, will you?
Life sucks when you wake up at 1215 for a 1230 appointment at Eunos. Life sucks when you rush to the shower only to cut a chunk of your flesh out of your finger when you merely brush it past the shaver. Life sucks when it's a brand new cartridge. Life sucks when the bleeding doesn't stop and splatters all over the bathroom floor a la CSI. Life sucks when you're late. Therefore, life sucked today.
Cut the hair today and I realised there's more and more white hair growing. Eurgh. Too much on the mind, not enough strength to synthesise.
Dear self
Sometime, one day in school, you will lose the motivation to study. You know it'll happen because it has happened countless of times before. But the next time it happens, you'll remember this. You'll remember what you said to yourself and you'll reach the goal whatever it takes. You will not give up. You will work even harder.
Self.
This song is perfect for a long drive at night...
And he forever cursed and doomed them to a lifetime of failure, punctuated by moments of fleeting happiness but an eternity of loneliness.
I think I can get used to 10.30pm dinners alone at the local coffeeshop.
As one batch of inspectors leave, another arrive. What would I do when it's my turn to leave?
In the meantime, I hope all goes well!
"This is where you fuck yourself up, bro."
How true. But how weak I am.
I kind of miss the old days when everything was simple and happy.
In one of those moods...
I think the Letterman edition has more emotion though... Think she cried in the end.
It's funny how most people will always say one thing, but end up doing another in the end. It's not that I'm not guilty of it. As much as I try to avoid it, it inevitably happens - But I guess the contrast is much starker when you're the third party.
It's so hard to keep faith in people, isn't it?
"Bloody dog"
"Don't insult dogs okay. They are nice and cute."
"Fucking bastard"
"That's better."
Dear Self
I know you've suffered but I don't want you to hide. It's cold and loveless but I won't let you be denied. Soothing, I'll make you feel pure. Trust me, you can be sure.
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart. I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask. I want to exorcise the demons from your past. I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.
Self
When the art director wants A, but the photographer thinks it's B, the miscommunication leads to a product that neither is satisfied with.
Lesson learnt: Pre-shoot sit downs are important.
Life sucks.
I feel like a pervert looking at site after site and page after page of female blogshops. Who says we don't do research?
Note to self: Don't take long bus rides because you are not up to it.
Too much Smirnoff and Bacardi makes you feel as if the world's zooming and spinning. Day shift later. I'm so dead.
It's funny how a year can pass so quickly but for certain things it's not even possible to make it past the one year milestone.
I usually try to avoid blogging about an entire day’s happenings because it’s pretty mundane but I thought today was quite interesting.
I had to wake up after an hour of sleep post night shift to drag my very sorry self to the departmental promotion lunch. Nothing interesting there, except that the few of us who were there took turns to queue up at the salmon sashimi bar and we almost only ate salmon sashimi throughout. We ate so much, we felt like puking.
Then there was this impromptu arrangement to go to the PC Show and it was only then that I found out both Alvin, Aloysius and I have plenty in common. We were bantering about gear and whatnot (Digression: Bumped into people that I know working there, as usual. Maybe I should try next time).
Fast-forward, we found ourselves in Adelphi and then Jaben. Alvin wanted to try new earphones despite owning Klipschs, A-Jays, Sennheisers and Shures, so, well. I blog about this because I thought it was quite amusing how the shop owner was so astounded by how much of the jargon we knew and how much we put down the earphones that so many worshipped heh.
The first pair that we tried was Ultimate Ears 700s. It was around $200 and we played it on my standard reference Hotel California recording.
The shop guy and came and asked for our opinions.
Guy: “How is it?”
Alvin: “I like the isolation but the sound quality isn’t there.”
Self: “The sound stage is too small. We need something with a wider sound stage.”
The shop guy tried to hide his shock and then proceeded to let us try another pair of Atomic Floyds which were over $300.
Guy: “How?”
Self: “The sound stage is wider but the voice isn’t there…”
Alvin: “This one is good but the isolation isn’t there"
Guy: “Wah. Okay I got another very good pair to let you all try.”
He was again somewhat disappointed at how we were putting down the expensive earphones and then very nicely proceeded to get us another pair of $400 Westone IEMs.
The Westones were impressive but flawed still. Alvin didn’t like the sound signature of it (I guess it was too clinical) so I had plenty of time to play with it. Tuned to Johnny Cash’s Hurt.
Self to Alvin: “This is quite good leh. But somehow I don’t like the voice still… And the highs… They can’t seem to release it fully”
Alvin to Self: “Eh you cannot compare to floor standers lah!”
I then told that to the shop owner who was somewhat at a loss about what else to prescribe. Alvin then got him to let us try a pair of Klipsch S4s.
Alvin pulled it out after 10 seconds. I liked the highs.
Seeing our shaking heads, he came again and this time I asked for a pair of Sennheisers since they were usually warmer sounding.
Alvin: “Not good leh. Wah lau.”
Self: “This one I like the voice.”
The voice had a warmer, rounder tone compared to the more sterile sound of the IEMs above.
Guy: “Still cannot ah! Wah. You all really want perfect sound man.”
Self: “Haha. We can’t find one that matches his taste perfectly. I think we need one with Westone lows, Sennheiser mids and Klipsch highs.”
Guy: “Wah you all really want perfection. Actually have, but very expensive. Need to custom make.”
I shot a glance at Alvin who was bemused.
Self: “How much?”
Guy: “About $1000-$2000”
All of us laughed when the price was mentioned. I guess when the day comes when we can blow $2000 each on a pair of IEMs each we’ll both have a very awesome hi-fi room in our homes. And I’ll want a McIntosh that I was showing them. Love the blue monitors to bits.
Should go out with them more. Techie talk with techies can sometimes be very fun.
---
Aside, was somewhat offered a a job post graduation which is about 5 years away. It's contingent on a second-upper and above but I guess I should slowly think it through. Never thought about that before and am quite interested. Hmmm.
I’ve been hearing that word rather often these days. More accurately, I’m more often than not described as being cynical.
---
Here’s a conversation that I had during lunch at work… For once there was some time to eat slowly because there was ACP Manning.
“Oh my god you are so cynical!”
I smiled faintly and poked the bean sprout in the styrofoam box while thinking of a reply.
“Sometimes after seeing too many things happen you lose faith in the good of people”
“It’s so depressing talking to you.”
---
Here’s another conversation during a random class dinner… We were sitting around drinking gong cha and I bumped into people that I thought I would never see again.
Anyway.
“Really what,” I said quite indignantly, “judging from all that I’ve seen there’s really no hope to such things”
“Why not! You want to be amoeba ah!”
“Yeah maybe the human race should be extinct”
“Oi! You ah! Stop being so…. Cynical lah!”
---
I’ve shortened away the bulk of the conversations because I cannot remember verbatim but I guess they are good food for thought.
I think I'm turning into a sarcastic, pessimistic and cynical old fart. Haha.
It was a very idea to go running. Useless knee. And there's no ice pack at home ugh.
Stupidity is defined as bringing all your gym stuff except the shoes because you forgot that you brought them home the last time.
What's wrong with me.
"You need therapy," I said. "You need treatment or counseling or something. You can't just keep doing this to yourself."
"I know," he said. His eyes filled with tears as viscous as mercury. He balled his hand into a fist and hit his head self-castigatingly. "I know. I fucked up."
Ever since he'd promised to stop talking to Katya, he'd been drifting through the house in a forlorn cloud of silence. Though he was too proud to admit it, his heart ached. He loved her.
Haruki Murakami: On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning
One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.
Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.
But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.
"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.
"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"
"Not really."
"Your favorite type, then?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."
"Strange."
"Yeah. Strange."
"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"
"Nah. Just passed her on the street."
She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.
Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.
After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.
How can I approach her? What should I say?
"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"
Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.
"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"
No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?
Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."
No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.
We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.
I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.
Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.
Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"
Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.
One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.
"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."
"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."
They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.
As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?
And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"
"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."
And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.
The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.
One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.
They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.
Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.
One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:
She is the 100% perfect girl for me.
He is the 100% perfect boy for me.
But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.
A sad story, don't you think?
Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.
只是每一天
我想你太多
其实不想走
其实我想留
I need to get a grip.
Wading though calf-deep water in a thunderstorm isn't exactly very fun when you've just knocked off. While the shoes are remarkably silent despite being soaked, the police pants stick to the skin tighter than lycra when wet. And then the polyester chills the skin very quickly. Ugh.
Can't help but think that once upon a time braving a thunderstorm, wading through puddles, surviving splashes by cars and squeezing under a tiny umbrella was actually quite an adventure.
- Spent a good half an hour manually deleting all of the Notes on Facebook (Most of them were from 2008 because once upon a time this blog and Facebook was linked) and I realised that I sounded much more cheerful and carefree in the past.
- Went to the SUTD movie screening – free X-Men, why not? Spent a fair bit thinking about the choice of degree and I also found myself lost in thoughts during the movie itself. Not good.
- Last night shift for the reservists, so we decided to use some funds and bought a supper feast from Upper Thomson. Bumped into Si En on the way. This is the end of the first group of reservists I’ll see through this year and I’ve always enjoyed having them around… Not because they help shorten the workload but more because it’s nice to have people around to crack some jokes and talk about life experiences.
- Realised that I still have this habit of slightly elevating my right fourth digit while using the mouse or especially using the trackpad on the MBP… Will memories, or in this case, tactile memories ever fade?
- All alone now staring blankly at this word document. Sigh. Wish I had someone to talk to. Guess it doesn't help that 987fm's playing Vanilla Twilight. Eurgh.
Last night while diverting all the sadness and anger into the rowing machine I made the decision to take down my tumblr blog. It wasn't an easy decision to make. Tumblr taught me a great many things... That in the deepest, darkest period of my life, there are those out there who are actually sympathetic and actually care, even when everyone around doesn't. It also taught me that I wasn't alone, nor the first, in facing such terrible thoughts of heartache and sometimes suicide. It was there for me when a part of me died; when I went down with chicken pox and spent most part of the time sitting in one corner and staring into blank space; when I needed people to talk to the most and there were none; when depressing thoughts cross the mind and I needed an outlet for it.
But of course like everything in life, there's a downside to it too. Tumblr has become a habit - one where when you're alone and in need of something to do before the mind or heart screws you up, you launch the Tumblr app on the iPhone instead of Facebook. I do that each time I'm at a bus stop, at a train station, on the train, on the bus, on the cab... You get the point. You reblog stuff that match your thoughts despite the difficulty in doing so because of the lousy interface. While the thought that someone else out there actually relates to you takes away some of the loneliness in you, albeit superficially and temporarily, it becomes some sort of an indulgence at times. When you're actually feeling just dazed and numb, seeing certain posts on Tumblr trigger the negativity again. And on a even more negative level, I find myself generating content for Tumblr - I guess those who have seen the Tumblr have seen the photos.
Friends have spoken to me about Tumblr. Some have advised me to take it down because it's just an endless cycle of negativity, while some have advised me not to in case I bottle it all up and one day it overwhelms me. I wouldn't have entertained thoughts of taking it down in the past... But I guess taking it down now is perhaps a step forwards at leaving the past behind. I don't know how I'm going to express or expel any of my depressing thoughts now that Tumblr's gone... Maybe I'll do it here, maybe I'll write it down like I did in secondary school, I don't know. Some have even suggested getting a rebound or another relationship but I don't think it's morally right to use someone as a rebound, or get into another relationship so quickly. I can't divorce myself completely from the past yet... And I guess I'm not the sort of player, flirt or heartless freak. At times I found myself wishing that I was like that, but I don't think I can. I mean, so far in my life I've seriously considered three but I only decided to give the heart to one. True, it's all broken and beyond recognition now, but I guess I'll always have to be careful who I give the fragile and repaired version to (I wouldn't want to give people the bits). There aren't any girls in my life right now anyway, thanks to national service. And I guess when school starts I'll have to be even more careful (Though right now I'm just completely cynical about the concept of love).
I saw this quote at the cinema the other day - "there's a fine line between friendship and love" - and I found myself thinking that it was all so true. When you put guys and girls in continued close proximity for sometime, it's almost inevitable that all the laughs and talks and sometimes be construed as close friendship, then affection, and then love. It was something I learnt way back in secondary school in the days where everyone was going for IJ girls and everyone was texting or chatting someone late into the night. In a way that formed how I behaved in the previous relationship I guess... That I was uncomfortable with the amount of time she spent in and outside of school and online with the same group of friends. From one angle it can be seen as insecurity, but from another it can be seen as trying to hold on tightly to what you treasure, isn't it? There were many whatifs - What if she fell for someone else? What if in the process of all that time together someone fell for her? Time and time again I've seen that happen to people around me and I guess I was scared (And it happened to myself too... I fell for a girl whom I talked to a lot, spent a lot of time with, had a lot in common with, became my best friend and who was attached. I tried my best to stay away and distance myself away from a long period of time...). All these were needless complications much preferred to never exist from my standpoint but I think I never managed to communicate these fears, thoughts and worries clearly enough until the point that it all became very destructive.
Enough of digression.
I'm also hesitant about taking Tumblr down because it's an archive of all of my thoughts since the breakup - it's akin to throwing away your diary, isn't it? I considered blending both the content from Blogger and Tumblr together but it's too difficult to do so. In the end, I learnt that it's possible to backup and download all of your Tumblr content... So that's what I'm going to. Download everything, save them, and keep them somewhere as part of the time capsule of my life.
It's not to say that I'm completely okay now. I still feel depressed from time to time. I still get these sudden pangs of heartache. I still suffer from insomnia. I still see things around me and get reminded of what once defined happiness. I still think of her more than everyday. It'll take a long, long time for these to disappear I guess. I think I really believe that the first cut is the deepest. You know, as you get through more and more heartbreaks it becomes easier. It's not something that I like - I would have preferred the first to be the only... But yeah. I don't know what the future holds but projecting from the current, even as I rebuild myself I guess there will always be that weak spot there or that culvert in the fortress of Helm's Deep where with a well-placed explosive everything crumbles.
I'm going to leave my Tumblr up for just another day to thank the followers who have helped me... After that, goodbye, Tumblr.
Broke the personal best record on the Concept2 just now despite the lack of sleep and spinning headache. Sea legs and sea-sickness immediately after that but I guess that's okay given how it allows you to temporarily flush everything from the system, let the pain of exertion take over you and for once give you a clear mind.
I decided that I needed to recalibrate everything. Somehow.
This sucks. Hiding in some deserted corner in the myriad of corridors that form this dungeon and trying to get a grip on things. Major event going on now... And i'm supposed to be back there doing everything and anything because the inspector's gone on ORD leave. But I'm just feeling very very tired and unable to concentrate on anything. I guess you would too if you woke up at 2.35am, 3.44am, 4.36am, 5am and then 6.30am for work. Simply too many things flowing through the mind and I can't stop it.
Somehow I wish I could forget. Get a lobotomy or something. Tabula rasa. This torture really hurts. Eurgh.
Have to run. I spy the big boss coming.
"Find your inner peace" - Main takeaway from Kungfu Panda 2, which has me thinking of dabbling in some meditation course that I saw. But alternatively Hangover 2 has also got me thinking of going to Bangkok again and then letting the city eat me up. Pity I can't go anytime soon though... Too much work at work with the big events, reservists to supervise and new inspectors to tutor (Quite sad that Eugene's ORD-ing and I'm also glad that whatever that's shown in CLIF isn't real, or else I'd be permanently living at the workplace), and then it looks like the red shirts are going up against the yellow shirts again. I hope they don't burn down my favourite spots. Go burn some other part of Thailand lah.
Hung around at Gramophone (Been fighting this CD/DVD buying spree ever since the new hifi speakers came and I can now boom the neighbours upstairs and overpower their BMB karaoke speakers) and after much hand-wrangling bought 1. Haha. I know there's downloads and all but the quality of MP3s are somewhat lacking once placed on the big system. Did a test with Adele's 21 album that day.
Bumped into her after that and I stupidly texted her. I don't know how to describe how I feel...
And driving stick hurts my knee.
An hour of sleep post night shift. Close the eyes and a million thoughts swarm your mind. Sleep's impossible. Open them and you're plunged into a dark, stagnant world. All but an empty shell.
I need to stop turning to the bottle but I can't.
