Twenty one years later, it just so happens that the embryonic lump becomes so much more and so much less.

Some things have been frustrating, others exciting.

Frustrated at the fact people would use religion as an answer for anything, but people have always been wont to flog off responsibilities to the whims of deities too self-absorbed to care.

Frustrated at the fact that money is necessary.

Frustrated at the fact that many people are not suited to be parents, yet insist on unprotected heterosexual intercourse.

Excited that some physical transitions are going along fine, albeit slowly.

Excited that travel can be adjusted along the linear path of the time-space continuum.

Excited that electronics usually have upgrades, that certain times provide discount vouchers, that sometimes the unaffordable become affordable.

The new year is just that: another fixed bracket of time that we choose to label such. Reality is that there's no real distinct separation point between our years. But when it allows things like periodic holidays, I guess I can have no real complaint.

Resolve to continue with physical transition, putting in progress at least three out of seven days.

Resolve to get past the limitations of money by getting a lot of it.

Resolve to bring things to a better level, at least where someone is concerned.

Resolve to come to terms with having another two years in something that is proving less and less fun as the years go by, just get it over with.

For the less smart (as you like to call yourself), here is a condensed, err, short version of the above:

Until now, still not good, not bad.

Some things fun, some things not fun.

Angry that some people so stupid and lazy.

Angry that I'm broke.

Angry that stupid people have children.

Happy I'm not so fat.

Happy that airline bookings can change.

Happy that got new iPod model, and got eBay voucher.

Err, blah. As long as got holiday, can.

Go to gym 3 days a week.

Become rich.

Be less fussy, have more fun.

Stop being so lazy.

is fat...

... in photos.

Always behind the camera for a reason.


Holidays are great. Even better if your back isn't charred. Even better yet if you aren't fat so you can don the skimpy. Or no donning at all. But when you have the cutaneous texture of citrus and the relative dimensions to match (all noticed in retrospect, of course), there's really nothing to be done.


A quick review of the current situation: very little money (not really in the big paying jobs now), going to be very lonely very soon (alone is nice if money is there, but usually when you have money you have these remorae stuck to your underside), very little to do (completing Oblivion for the sixth time now), and worst thing is the weather is going to scorch very soon.


Time to ramp up the gym routine, tone down the eat routine, run like a headless chicken, play a bit more of the M to the t to the G. And make more money somehow.


Lonely is great in a way that is not. And people not putting any effort into communicating strongly suggests that the relationship is dying, if not already dead.

latest updates...

News in short:

I might have food poisoning. Can't tell. Nothing in this apartment seems to be clean.

Unrelated news, finally dropped below 100 for the first time in about 10 years.

Exams have been over in a long while. Slacking about mostly.

Returning in mid January.

don't speak...

Examining your change in thought patterns over the years is a dangerous thing to do. It shows you either how flawed you once were, or how much of a sellout you are now.

I used to think of mellowing as a classic sign of aging and breaking down. I now think of it as a classic sign of dying inside or finding religion, in which case you would be better off dying inside.

Sometimes, it's easier to give in, call it maturity, and just be happy.

I like to think I'm happier today than I was a year ago. Depends on what you would call happy, I suppose.

I'm happy that the only truths that matter to me are not written in books. They are written in the things I do, in the things I see, in the words other people speak. Truths are not stories, truths are the things that we learn from (or in marketing terms: a change in the content and organization of memory leading to a change in behaviour).

I've discovered things I could do that I did not think I'd ever consider doing. It's still all very shocking, but as with everything, change makes life livable.

When I begin to doubt my choices, I always tell myself, "Don't speak. You don't know what you're thinking. You don't know what you're saying. You don't need a reason." It's eerily similar to the song.

I know what it's like to have to give up a self-defined social core now.

I know what it's about having to reshape very fundamental thoughts and understanding.

I know what it's like to love, what it's like to lose it, what it's like to be living in a hope that it comes back, to believe it's still there.

I know what it's like to honestly not care what the world thinks, a step beyond just acting it.

I know what it's like to speak in public.

I know what it's like to find myself and find that myself isn't really there to be found, it's there to be made.

I know what friends do, obvious as it should be, unlikely as they seem.

I know what it's like to be honestly crushed, disappointed, to cry when it's not in my character, to smile when I want to kill.

I know that all these can change any day, and they rightfully should.

And I know that I don't have to say something for it to be true, just like believing in something doesn't make it so. That giving up is sometimes the way to move forward, where bull-headed pushing only stalls the engines.

dances with wolves...

Sometimes at night we want to scream and be answer by a shadowy howl from beyond.

Sometimes the shadowy howl in the night gets answers.

Sometimes those answers aren't as scary as they sound.

Sometimes the wolves don't always want a midnight snack. Or orgiastic feast.

Sometimes they just want to dance.

And sometimes we get to dance with wolves.

chasing...

Sometimes it feels like I'm chasing the shadow of a dream. A dream so real I can see it in front of me. A dream so lush it feels like a clearing in the forest of nightmares I have to face every waking moment. No nightmare so terrible as one that is mediocre.

And this shadow eludes me. I pour so much into the search, but it does not want to be found. I delight in the hunt, but the misses always crush the spirit. God forbid I shoot myself in the head and end a fruitless search.

Chasing shadows, chasing dreams.

just...

...give it up.

Trying a bit hard, sometimes. But it's something you have to do.

buku...

...muka.

Sigh. Sad but necessary. One goes with the flow.

drawbacks...

Sometimes, people think of some things as drawbacks.

Things like the protracted period before things start to work.

Things like having to rinse, wash and repeat.

Things like people trying to insinuate themselves into your life.

Things like being gassy.

Things like a chance that something might not go as planned and you end up dead.

Granted, if everything goes well, I'm very sure it's a good trade-off. And for some, the drawbacks might actually be desired effects.

fleshly concerns...

Trying something new. If it works, best 300 bucks I ever spent. If it doesn't, most unnecessarily arduous month ever.

Don't wish me luck. Wish me success.

the man/boy who sat still...

And so it was that the man/boy learned something.

It wasn't a lesson that the other people usually took away from something like this. Usually, they'd just try again.

Naturally, for someone trying so hard not to be the same, trying so hard not to be different, he would take away something else.

That someone/thing wasn't for him.

The man/boy decided then that maybe there wasn't really anyone/thing suitable for him. Maybe it wouldn't matter if there was anyone/thing that was. Lessons learned are rarely free, he told himself. He did not feel like he could afford any more.

Maybe for someone so different and the same, the man/boy had best go everywhere/nowhere.

So the man/boy decided to sit still forever. In that, he may finally find the place where he could be where he was supposed to go.

scribbles xi...

political oreo 2...

Some people are in love, others in love with the notion of being in love.

scribbles x...

political oreo 1...

If abortion is murder, miscarriage is manslaughter.

the man/boy who didn't care...

There once was a man/boy. He made it a point to not care too much about the whiles of the world. Life, as the things that produce the sensations that made it so, was very much flexible, so flexible that it made little sense to pour time and sense into worrying about it.

And so he decided not to care about the things people would expect men/boys to care about.

He had a non/secret of a sort. As with all things, he would make it a point not to care about. After all, while the world fusses over these things, he would enjoy the sun, the sea, the wind, the trees.

He simply did not care.

Then one day, he found someone/thing that he took particular fondness of. While the world did not like it when men/boys found a fancy of such a someone/thing, he simply did not care. He decided he would enjoy the someone/thing as he did all things. After all, while the world fusses over these things, he would enjoy the time he spent enjoying the someone/thing. The only issue was if someone else found out and spoilt his fun. But the man/boy didn't care.

The man/boy was not alone, as you'd expect someone who did not care about anything. The man/boy had friends, who, taken in by his carefree not-caring, enjoyed their time with the man/boy as he enjoyed theirs.

Things were simple. All the man/boy had to do was to enjoy the things the world made, while the world fussed over things that did not matter.

One day, the man/boy had an inkling that while he did not care, sometimes he might get more out of caring just a bit. Of course, the problem was that he might also get less out of caring just a bit.

It was then that he noticed that he did indeed care for the rule he had about not caring. The rule was making things difficult because it turned on itself. The rule was strange because it meant you had to break it to follow it.

So the man/boy decided to change that rule. The new rule was that the man/boy would think for himself if something was worth caring about. The new rule was that he would not/care.

The man/boy decided that it WOULD somehow matter if somebody found out about the someone/thing. But he also decided that he would not LET it matter so badly as to ruin his fun. He would not LET it matter so that it would change the way he would not/care. He would care when it would spoil things, and would care if it made it more fun. He would not care if it didn't really matter or if it mattered in a way that made it the same anyway. The non/secret, in this way, stayed the man/boy's non/secret.

scribbles ix....

scribbles viii...

scribbles vii...

old again...

... once more. Shoobee doo lang lang.

Some medical-like book I read says male humans stop growing around the age 21 (damn!). Unfortunately, that does not cover growing sideways.

Growing up seriously isn't all it's cracked up to be. This Responsibility thing really isn't entertaining at all. Lots of work, almost no fun. Why would anyone do that to themselves?

Still, getting older un-alone is a helluva lot more fun than otherwise. Somebody did a rather good job this year. Hear me giggle in delight: tee hee.

Hopefully there will be visual indicators of memories. Or maybe there won't be.

Shoobee doo lang lang.

stop and smell the pisspot...

Did you ever notice, the more you have going on in life, the less time you spend writing about it?

A drop from one or more posts a day to maybe twice a month is a sure sign of interesting times.

routine...

First thing I see in the morning...

Up the stairs...

Australian loos are single room free standing affairs.

To the kitchen for brekkie maybe.

Hmm, everyone's left already.

If I'm lucky, the bus will come so I won't have to walk down the hill to catch the other one.

Have to walk back up the hill on the way home.

Yay, driveway!

Getting closer...

And safe!

Go check out the backyard first...

Fish isn't out today...

I'll just wait here...

faith...

... is believing that the best will still turn out despite yourself.

... is knowing that no matter what, things will work out for someone someway.

... is waking an realizing that there's someone out there worth waking up for.

... is noticing the sun rise even though it's cloudy and knowing water is good for plants.

... is the ability to smile in an irritating smug way that you knew that despite there being stupid voters that a two-third was prevented.

the world...

... does not revolve around me.

Not yet, anyway.

house...

...is like home, except maybe not.

New place is rather nice. Think late eighties construction, in a very white-man style home. Or rather Enid Blyton, without the vicious hatred of children boiling subcutaneously.

Room that is mine is/was the study. Slightly shorter than last year's room, but a hell lot more comfy, with crimson carpeting and windows opening out into rose bushes again.

Yard is rather nice and everything. Big enough to toss a disc, not too big it's a pain to keep. Small, mostly dehydrated, pond in one corner. Sometimes you can see a goldfish inside. How it's keeping alive is really weird.

Distances are a bit far. Used to be a five minute walk to class. Now it's like a twenty minute walk to the bus stop, another 33 minutes to campus if the bus arrives on time. All very tiring, but should be sleek and smexy by mid year. Unless I get fat-ter.

At any rate, I can't say it's too depressing. Tiresome it may be, but when you're walking with shadows, the sun is always bright.

all gone...

A week till departure. Only did two things out of twelve I set out to do. Again, Morningtide was okay. Food was good, plentiful, excessive. No trips, no randomness. I feel ripped off.

Looking forward to another year is similar to looking forward to a lot of nothing. What do you do when there's no life left in your years?

dawnsea...

Morningtide was great. Wasn't perfect, but definitely great. Have to hone my drafting skills, but it's not cheap. That said, Magic was never meant for the poor of mind and pocket.

Family departs for the south tomorrow morning. Given that today is Wednesday. Have a month to stick around and bum then it's back to the whet wheel to grind out another year.

Stuck in a rut of doing nothing and growing fat. Strange metabolism and weird wiring join to form a rather singular individual bent on proving that nothing's normal and nothing's right. You can sure as hell take your social standards and stuff it because it's all musty like your bloomers.

I'd feel lonely if I was, and definitely bored if I had nothing to do.

orange fortitude...

Lots of talk about religious right, academic standards, rule of law, and figuring out what to do when not otherwise occupied with this shit.

My take on things mostly involve either in-depth analysis of the issues at hand, an application of ideal pragmatism, or something to suit me.

Religious right needs to be able to arrive at the same answer regardless of angle of dissection. Telling me your point of view as a *blahblahblah* does not help your case. It is a given you will agree with yourself. Want to prove a point? Show me you can arrive at a similar conclusion based on my own stated assumptions. Also, stop asserting that you have the absolute answers. It's all very annoying when everybody and his grandmother keeps screeching that you will go to hell. Hell is having to talk to dipshits who can't phrase an argument without screaming.

Academic standards are always suspect. What may be scaling new heights today may be scraping the bottom of the cesspool tomorrow. Formal academia should always be based on first the practicality of such pursuits, and then the benefits of keeping otherwise overly ponderous sycophants occupied and away from the precipice of fourth degree psychosis. A paper scrip stating achievements should be treated with no greater import than a TV guide. More likely to be a good indicator of what's gonna screen, but better to watch the telly to find out.

Rule of law should only place limitations on activities that would directly affect individual ability to function to a general benefit. Laws should seek the most efficient way of doing things with as neutral an outcome as possible. Law should not be based on religious precedent; if they happen to coincide, that is mere coincidence. The only just law is one that does not impinge on the freedom of any party to act in a manner that does not inconvenience another. Private acts are such an example.

Figuring out what to do should ideally be left to people who are mostly whimsical and have significant cash availability. Keeping costs low is ideal; it allows for more iterations of a favourable activity. The company one keeps while entertaining is paramount, especially when enjoyment is a major objective. Above all, figuring out what to do should bring about some practical benefit, in relation to the cost.

ngu year '08...