Confessions

In the midst of procrastination I accidentally stumbled upon an old chain of emails between me and my best friend from high school. Gmail is really cruel. Recently I read a ThoughtCatalog about Gmail and the (often) terrible memories it keeps for you. When I switched to Gmail everything from my old hotmail account got transferred over. 8 years of email exchanges, social media notifications. From the days when I was web designing and was pen pals with other little webmistresses across the world, to the days when I spammed my friends with ridiculous chain mails. To the days in high school, where we all hung out in the Art Block, met at the library or the mall after school, when we had nicknames for our crushes and it was such a big deal. When we used to be sheltered little girls worrying about silly little things, but it was so innocent and nice and safe.

I have a confession that shouldn't come as a surprise: I suck at keeping friends. In fact, sometimes I really don't want to keep friends. Growing up as an only child, I grew up learning to be alone. I was always myself's best friend, and even when I made best friends, they were always other only children. Our minds really connected, but it always felt like something detrimental was missing.

I grew up with the attitude of hating people who were sheep. I always wanted to be different. I hated what other people liked. I liked to be the loner. Rather be a loner than a sheep. Always. Rather be by myself than lower my pride. Always. No one taught me otherwise. No one told me otherwise.

I'm also the type of person where, if you push me away, then I won't be able to forgo my pride to chase after you. Never. I'll only push you away further myself. If you don't care about me as much as I truly care about you, I would rather pretend I don't care than admit the truth. Always.

That's why I'm really a shitty keeper of friendships. I have too much pride, and I was born a loner. I mean, naively I'd like to believe that friendship is powerful enough to overcome differences, overcome petty disputes and unspoken words of jealousy. I'd like to believe that some of the friendships I've established are those that transcend time or effort. No matter how long or how distant the separation, the old flame can always rekindle. But who am I kidding?  Recently I've come to believe that you only ever have yourself to rely on. Friendship is not strong enough to rely on. Neither is love from anyone who's not family. People are fickle and everyone has a pretense. They only do what they know they "should" do as a "friend". Isn't that what I used to do as a kid? I learnt from peers, from TV shows and story books that this is "how to be a friend". This is what is socially acceptable. But in reality, everyone puts themselves first. And you should. Who else will look out for you but yourself?

I know that's a cynical way of looking at people. Some people aren't like that. Some people are straightforward and innocent. They don't need a pretense, they are who they are. They're simple. But I can't help but see the world in any other way anymore, no matter how hard I try to rescue my naive and romantic self from the grasp of bitter reality.

I'm not a person who wants many friends. I can't keep up with many friends. For me, it's too tiring. Talking to people who I don't truly want to be with, who I don't know well, is tiring. All I need is a few close friends that feel like family. But for some reason, after I moved up to Auckland by myself, I got swept away by influence. By peer pressure. I felt the need to be happy in a way that I never desired before. I felt the need to make the most of this opportunity and make lots of new friends, start a new life. But it's not who I truly am. And the more I forced myself the unhappier I became, because it was all so tiring. I thought there was something wrong with me, someone I loved and trusted told me there was something wrong with me. But there isn't. I'm just different. I'm just me.

Reading those emails I sent to my best friend in high school, I wish I could have that back. That sort of safety when I had a small group of close friends and we supported each other throughout the simple ups and downs of school life. But then I remember that I've changed so much now that I wonder if we can ever be on the same page again.

I've met a lot of new people after leaving high school too. And of course I've tried. I've tried really, really hard. I put in all my effort into interacting with people to build new friendships. Because I was pressured into realising that you can't go through life being a loner. Humans are social creatures. No matter how much I didn't enjoy joining in the main crowd and casting my pride aside, I had to. To be successful meant partially, to be socially accepted and welcomed. So I tried really hard. I found people I liked and people I enjoyed surrounding myself with. I got brave enough to end something because I didn't love someone anymore, because it was wrong to keep on holding on for fear of being alone with no rock to depend on. I found people I genuinely believed were my friends. And I genuinely started believing that people are as simple as that.

But you know what I realised? Very few people are interested in you, unless you're interesting. Unless you persist, unless you're connected to someone interesting. So I changed to be different, strived to be less demure. And I like to believe that I really did build some solid friendships.

But, living alone has its perils. Especially for someone like me, who's naturally a loner. It makes you bitter a lot. It makes you want to be stronger and appear more independent, because you're afraid that deep down no one truly cares about you. That all these friendships are built upon fun and partying and pretense, who would truly be there if you need them to be? My family never seemed so far away. I tried to fill in that gaping hole with partying, with romance. But both never seem to stay long, and now I'm even more scared to genuinely open my trust and heart to other people.

It's funny that as a kid, I always craved physical and emotional independence from my family. Yet now, I've never wanted that emotional dependence more. Just to know that at least, my parents truly and genuinely care about me.

I wish that I'd done a better job at preserving the friendships I forged in the past. The ones who I slowly drifted out of sync, out of contact with. The ones I couldn't give up my pride for. The ones who were true friends, but I was too busy trying to change myself in a way I believed was good for me, to realise what I was losing.

I'm writing this because I'm suddenly filled with so much regret of things I could've done better. I know that by other people's standards, this isn't a big deal. Whatever. But I grew up with strong morals. I always felt like I have to be a person that I myself would respect. I don't really like the person I'm starting to become recently. But, this doesn't mean that I'm not happy. I have a future to look forward to. I'm also optimistic about the possibilities. Possibilities always cheer me up, and hopefully that ambition will lead me somewhere better. I think that me and Auckland just don't understand each other very well. We're not the same type of people. I'd like to hope that me and Melbourne are more compatible, that over there, I can stop feeling like I'm living in some sort of cage of forever interlinking connections and meaningless interactions.

I'm hopeful of the life that I could live. And although I have to once again force myself to be someone I'm not, to be what society deems to be a character worthy of success, maybe this time I force myself to change, it'll be one step closer to the simple happiness I want.

Something I've realised recently: believe in the beauty in things. Music is beautiful. Always. Friendship is beautiful, as long as you have faith in it. And emotions are beautiful because they make you a more beautiful person.

Caring sucks. Being emotional sucks. Not being able to control your decisions, your actions, your thoughts with a clear head and a rational perspective sucks. Letting your feelings control you is weak isn't it? It's pathetic. It's silly. We're silly. But you know what I've also realised? It's human. It's me. I feel and I care and I hurt because I'm human and weak. That's who I am. That's how I roll. That's what makes me who I am.

And yeah. Emotions are beautiful. Sure, they're lethal, dangerous. Vindictive. But beautiful. Think about it: people who feel, feel life. It's beautiful to care so much about something that it makes you shed a little tear late at night. It's beautiful to sometimes feel your heart squeeze into such anguish or euphoria that you've forgotten what's up or down, what's me and you, what's real and not. And it's always beautiful to be able to truly appreciate the little things in everyday. Like that small streak of sunlight stroking your arm. The way lightening lights up the sky like magic. Standing in the rain and feeling nothing but awe at how majestic the stormy city is from your tiny little balcony.

I remember I used to spend hours sitting on my balcony at dusk, staring at those endless rows of buildings rising and falling beyond my horizon, fascinated by the lives being lived out there; entranced by the beauty, the detail, the possibilities contained within that picturesque view.

I remember I used to sneak out onto the lawn on humid summer nights while my parents were asleep. I used to just stand there on the grass, barefooted under the moonlight, awestruck at how beautiful and lovely and comfortable the world was at this time.

And I remember the most clearly, those few rare moments that I've been able to lay in bed at the end of the day and say to myself with a simple smile, "This must be what happiness feels like."

All these silly, irrational and romantic little things define who I am. I like being me. I'm grateful I was lucky enough to be the silly, emotional and overtly romantic person that I am. I'm lucky I feel enough to care. It's not a weakness. It's not pathetic. Don't let anyone tell you that. Caring enough to hurt is what makes us sympathetic, empathetic. It's is what makes us love more, love better, love stronger. Sometimes it's what makes us good people. Because we care.

I care about my friends. I care about my parents, my grandma. I care about old ties and old times, places that changed me and that tiny little house on Kings Crescent. I also care about believing in things. Like the disheveled busker who gave me a polite "Thank you miss". Like the little old lady setting up the family business at dawn. Like the random stranger who smiled at me on the street.

The people in your life should make you a better person. This matters the most. To the people who have ever listened to what I had to say, who have genuinely cared about my hurt or let me care about your hurt. To the people who have inspired me to be a better person and convinced me to keep on fighting even when I couldn't see reason. Thank you. I read somewhere that one of the simplest steps to being happy is to show appreciation. Show gratitude. I'm grateful for everything I've been privileged enough to have, and I won't let any of it go to waste anymore.

To the person who will one day understand me, wholly, completely and unconditionally, I will find you. I know you've been waiting for me. Sorry it's taking so long. 6 billion people in the world and 197 countries you know, kind of a shitload of obstacles. But it's okay. I believe we're getting warmer.

I miss somewhere that's not here

I miss China. I miss the smell of smoke intertwined with the chilly winter air, the familiar clanking of bells and unabashed shouts emitted from those early morning street vendors. I miss the way you'd hurriedly walk through some small dingy street paved with dirt and garbage, holding a mask over your face to partially shield yourself from the cold and partially from the smell of dog shit.

I miss the ruthlessness of the city. I miss being a part of the avalanche of people that push and struggle their way through the early morning commute, every man for themselves, every person from the little boy selling toys outside the metro entrance, to the richly dressed expat stepping past the beggars in his polished leather shoes, all hurriedly, hurriedly rushing to do what they had to do that day. Because the city had no mercy. The city had no room for moping, for indecision, for pride even. Everyone did what they had to, and they had no choice to question. You took what you could get.

I miss that feeling of revelation. The one that overwhelms you as you finally open your eyes to the truth of how the world is. In such an environment, silly thoughts seem unable to manifest - as if there was something in the air that killed unpracticality. Complicated layers of fears, desires and thoughts are reduced to the most primitive of needs: food, family, survival. Only if you're lucky enough to have that, you have the luxury of the worrying about the next layer.

I miss the contrast between the rich and the poor. A sheer display of power that the city had. Here, you could climb higher than anywhere else, or fall harder than you've ever fallen before. Fortunes change, lives change - it's a twisted game of roulette, isn't it?

And do you know what I loathe? I loathe this slow, gentle, lenient country. I hate how infuriatingly first world it is. I hate how infuriatingly first world the people and their problems are. I loathe the calmness. The non-existent pace of the city. I loathe how forgiving it is. Everyone does what they want do, and they question every choice. You get given everything served on a platter and you choose what you want to take. It's a buffet. Whereas somewhere else, there's rationing for every meal.

There's too much choice and too much luxury in this place. There's too much thinking that leads to too many delusional thoughts of what you believe would make you happy and what you believe you're entitled to have. Entitlement in itself is delusional. No one is entitled to anything. If every human is entitled to basic human rights, then why are there millions of humans in the world who aren't given a single chance in their lifetime to learn what those rights are?

All I know is that I have to survive the rationing before I can truly bask in the luxury of the buffet.

And who knows, one day in the future I might end up loathing those merciless cities, the sheer power they have, their ruthlessness.

One day I might miss this slow, gentle place and its lenience.

One day I might feel only the sweet here, see only the smaller picture.

One day I might say, "Hey, I'm entitled to have this".

But that's one day. Not today.

Gain a little perspective

I don't understand how amazingly, astoundingly thick and insensitive some people can be. How can people have such low EQ? Are they just dumb? Perhaps. Are they just ignorant and too egotistical to realise that THEY have no right to put others down because the truth is they're not as "high up" or "great" as they think they are? They diss people, put others down because it gives themselves a sense of being superior, of having higher standards, it makes them feel like they can snob these lesser beings who are ugly/pathetic/unpopular.

Reality check. Mature the fuck up. This is directed at every single person who has ever looked at someone whom they have never talked to and said to their friends something along the lines of, "Ew, what the fuck what an ugly whore" / "Ew what's wrong with her face?" / "That's fucking hideous" / "Guess he could always paper bag that shit". Maybe you grew up being influenced by goddamn mob psychology, you and your friends think you're the most high-class walking shits of the fucking school, maybe you give in to peer pressure easily and you're a sheep who follows the cool and fucking badass crowd. Well, we're all adults now. Time to mature the fuck up and stop acting like you have the emotional range of a 5-year-old.

If you can feel sorry for yourself for getting dumped, getting cheated on, having no friends, getting shit grades, well then you can gain a little perspective and start feeling empathy for other human beings that deserve basic respect. Karma's a bitch and if something tragic and first world happened to you then boohoo go have a cry and make yourself feel like you've endured so much tragic hardship. But karma's a bitch so it's probably because you did something to deserve it in the first place. If you make stupid decisions and do things you know you shouldn't, it'll come back to bite you. Instead of being a little bitch about it, why don't you try change your outlook instead?

There are people who don't deserve respect. People who have done terrible, despicable things and don't regret them or feel remorse. But those people are rare. Most people? Most people are decent people,  decent human beings who deep down have their hearts in the right place. Who don't deserve the sort of judgement you're ready to pass upon them because they look different or they don't act to the norm or they're not as fucking precious looking as you, sorry about that Mr. face of a fucking god. Of course everyone judges people by their appearance, it's human. But there's a difference between formulating a first impression from an appearance to insulting this person you never even talked to properly based on their appearance to other people, spreading uncalled for negativity about them. About this person who's done nothing to you.

Why can't you see that sometimes one of those remarks of "ugly", if heard by the person it was meant for, could be the start of a negative though that could snowball into something terrible? Something like anorexia, something like depression, something like anxiety-disorder or self-harm or suicide. How is it possible for people to not be able to realise that?

How is it possible for these people, these thick-skinned people, to not realise that, to have never have thought about the consequences and emotional trauma that can be the result of their careless 'jokes', and yet still be shameless enough to hear a story like Amanda Todd's and say something completely hypocritical like "Oh I feel so guilty and sorry for her, it's sad that people can be so mean to drive a girl to suicide."

That's fucking precious.

It's like when KONY 2012 became viral, suddenly all these people who didn't give a single fuck, didn't know, didn't care, about any problems in undeveloped countries, any of the thousands of children dying every single minute, any of the much more cruel, inhumane and horrifying things happening all across the world every single day on a much larger scale, well suddenly all these people started to pretend they gave a fuck.

And why? Because it was viral. Because suddenly caring was viral and it made you feel part of the crowd. Mob psychology again.It made you feel like you should care because everyone else cares. And when the hype dies down, when it's forgotten, they go back to not knowing or caring. They go back to being naive and ignorant enough to swallow whatever bullshit the media and anyone with a youtube account wants them to swallow.

These people have no right to care. Because they lack the common sense, the EQ, the understanding of one basic trait humans should possess: of being able to put oneself in another's shoes, see things from their perspective - Treating others how you want to be treated. Is it really that hard? Are people these days so emotionally dead that they can't even try to perceive what it would feel like to be the person you just put down, the person you just insulted, joked about, bullied?

Like there are many more inhumane incidents out there that are larger and much more terrible than KONY, there are also hundreds, thousands, millions more bullying incidents out there happening every single day, that are much worse than what happened to Amanda Todd. People who are meant to be mature and educated enough to realise this but who didn't, need to gain a little perspective, spend time and raise their EQ, spend time to learn how to think before they speak and put themselves into other's shoes. Shed some of that fucking immaturity which allows them to think that a joke is always a joke no matter how far.

Why do I always like to see a lot of people as pretty? Because I genuinely believe so. Beauty is overrated, everyone has a form of beauty that people need to learn to see and appreciate. Everyone has redeeming qualities. Everyone has their own worth. Everyone deserves the common courtesy of respect from someone who don't know them well enough to have the right to judge them.

What is wrong with being nice? With spreading positivity and compliments instead of negativity and insults? Is it honestly that hard? What happened to seeing the best in people?

I don't care if my argument is flawed and I committed a dozen fallacies. I don't care if I swore too much and came across as crass and hypocritical. I genuinely believe in everything I've said thus far. It makes me so angry and furious that so many of my friends fall under the category of those insensitive and emotionally immature people I described above. It makes me so, so angry and furious that young people these days can be so close minded and caught up in their own little pathetic dramas and problems.

Maybe I'm too righteous. Maybe I'm too idealistic and naive as well.

But whoever's reading this. Get off your high horse and put your feet on the ground. Do something. Do something.

Is it honestly that hard?

I miss this blog

I miss the things I used to write on here, the way I used to write on here. My past self seemed so fluent at writing down detail for detail and metaphor for metaphor my inner stream of consciousnesses. How was I so good at dictating my internal monologue into something so comprehensible? Now when I try to write down all these interlinking ideas and thoughts I sometimes have about life, about the past and the future and just people in general, it just doesn't seem to sound right. It just doesn't flow like before.

I miss those late nights spent over one long blog entry where I had to perfectly convey this realisation that'd just dawned on me. Towards the early hours of the morning I'd reach an epiphany of sorts and at that point I'd have to pause, look up and think, "Ohh woooww. That really makes sense now. Shit I'VE GOT TO WRITE THIS DOWN BEFORE I LOSE IT."

Even this post lacks the type of tone or feel I used to have. But I guess "everything changes but nothing is ever truly lost". It'll come back one day.

Pissed off

Why the hell did I ever cry for you? Shed tears for you?
Why the hell did I ever compromise myself for you?
Why the hell did I ever keep on chasing after you after you hurt me so bad, so much, so deep?
Why the hell did I ever sacrifice myself for you, my future for you, my friends for you-

Why the hell was I ready to go where ever you lead me, where ever you told me to go, where ever you said that I should go?

Why the hell did I diminish myself like that for you-
why did I change for you to meet your shallow expectations?
why did I become dumber for you because you could'n't keep up with me?
why the hell did I have to mould myself to meet your ends only for you to be
ashamed of me?
embarrassed of me?

Why the hell did I swallow my pride like that to chase after you,
to let people look down on me,
to have people look down on me after all that time because of your stupid pride,
because people think you're the victim,
I'm the vixen,
I have no shame, no face
whereas you get to keep all your goddamn pride.

When I was crying on the streets I was embarrassing you

When I got angry I was letting down us

I was always the problem
my tempers
my inabilities
there was just something wrong with me,
not you,
never you god forbid.
Why the hell did I force myself to do so many things for you
Why the hell did I give up so much of myself for you
Why was I stupid enough to disgrace myself like that?

I will not change for anyone.
I will not dull down my shine for your ego.
I will not let you feel superior and above me if you're not.

I will do what I want to do
Dress how I want to dress.
Talk the way I want to talk.
Like what I want to like.
I will not give up my friendships for your insecurities.

And now I will become a better me.
A smarter me.
A more vibrant and amazing me who will radiate with happiness and life and vivaciousness.
A me who when you meet will make you regret not treasuring me from the beginning.

If you treasured me from the beginning then maybe things would've been different.

If I didn't have to work so hard from the beginning, if I didn't have to be the person who sacrificed so much from the beginnning,
maybe towards the end I wouldn't've felt the way I did.
Indignant.
Furious.
Cold.
And when I looked at you,
emotionless.

You were always the one calling the shots.

Well I'm glad at the end I got to call the shot.
You finally got a taste of what it's like to be on the shitty end of a one-sided relationship.
You finally got a taste of what I had suffered.

And I'm glad all this has happened.

Because it's taught me that I will never ever dull myself down for anyone else again.

Respect

If you want respect, you should earn it.

People respect other people because they're worth respecting. Because they have this redeeming quality about them that's admirable.

Respect is earned through showing decency of character, strength of will, selflessness.

Respect is earned through the hard work you put into the things that count and the way you treat and respect other people.

Respect is not earned from aesthetics. From looking good. from being pretty or attractive.

Respect is not earned from sacrifices or acts of generosity that ultimately benefits yourself.

Respect is not earned from thinking people should respect you.

You can't demand respect from someone.

You have to earn it.

You have to show the world you've earned it.

No one should respect you, no one owes you any respect if you haven't earned it.


And if you have, if you've truly earned that respect.

Well then you needn't ever ask.

Sometimes change just creeps up on you

So I haven't been blogging much at all these few months. I'm not sure why but words just don't come to me anymore. Maybe because these past few months have just felt like one giant, exhilarating, and sometimes scary emotional roller coaster. More often than not, I've felt that each day that passes have to be filled with something exciting or indulging or impromptu or grand, or just something that makes me happy with the preoccupation. Because of this, time seems to be flying, I seem to be barely holding on to my old self anymore, my fingertips are slipping day by day and one day soon, I feel like I'm going to lose my grasp and fall into the abyss of someone else's life. Someone else's simple, straightforward life filled with simple and materialistic joys, filled with fun and friends and simple happiness, but devoid of my late night philosophical musings; of those moments when I just sit and question things - when I just sit and write whatever's flowing through my head; when I just lie in bed staring at the night sky, contemplating the future, the past, the meaning of something deep.

But change is inevitable, and for me especially I mold to the people around me so easily. It's not necessarily a bad thing, in fact I'm happy. These past few months may have been a big blur, but a big happy blur with a few ups and downs and a few tiny small moments of heartache where I felt like tearing my head off and use it to smash a hole in the wall. But other than that, it's been good. I've been good. And you know what? I have faith that the old me will manage to hold on and come with me for the reset of the ride through 2012.

I think one of the biggest goals I should be trying to achieve is to make myself stop being so damn scared of everything. I'm getting there little by little, but I want to be fearless. I want to be confident and unintimidated, to charge through life unafraid of taking opportunities thrown my way, unafraid to go out there and snatch myself some opportunities if they don't come to me, and most importantly unafraid to make things happen, to say yes, to be happy, to stay happy, to live with no regret, no fear, and even no hate.

I want to be one of those people that can make other people happy, that can tease a laugh or a smile out of someone and make their day that little bit better and brighter and lighter.

For now, find me here:
http://lovesongsandrainynights.blogspot.com

(Not to say I won't be back here, I might. Just waiting for the words to come back to me)

Look at that tiny house peaking through the light

The sun's setting gold. There's a tiny ferry tutting across the harbour water, leaving a trail of white. I can see North Head illuminated, glowing because of the sunset. Rangitoto looms in the background like a guard. There are sails and cranes and buildings and people, and in the far far distance, little houses peeking through the light.

The sky's this indescribable colour of grey and blue and cyan and mauve, tinted with a blush of that fading brown. Like the whole world's awash with some nostalgic sepia. I can't help staring at that tiny boat sail back and forth, back and forth. There's someone standing at the balcony window opposite. There's someone walking along the road outside. All these things. All these people. This is the world. This is what being alive feels like. Friendships can break, love can fail, family can leave and people can pass away, but what will never disappear, are the clouds that drift past your patch of sky everyday. The sea that sparkles under the setting sun. The people that keep on walking, the boats that keep on sailing, no matter how you're feeling today; no matter what problems you're facing.

The world will keep on spinning without you, and that's the excruciating beauty of it. The grandness. Your insignificance. How tall the heavens are above you, how deep the earth stretches below you, and then there's just little, unremarkable you. Born into this world maybe by accident, maybe by chance, but definitely not by fate. Think about it. What are the possibilities of you, this exact person, existing in this world? From birth till now, every decision, every choice and every split creating infinite possible futures, pasts, and people with the same name and same parents and same history as you, but are not you.

And yet, here you sit. This precise and irreplaceable version of you that exists nowhere else in time and space. You're allowed to sit and observe the world from your own little corner. Watch the clouds darken. The sun disappear. The lights of thousands of other homes flicker on. The clatter of plates, the occasional bale of laughter. All on a backdrop of stillness. Silence. A serene, serene night, and a low mumble of of the city as it finally settles down.

A tiny flag billowing in the wind; the tap-tap of my fingers on the keyboard. And the thing that makes it all so real, a cool breeze whispering across my cheek; on it I can smell the ocean and taste the salt; hear the laughter and feel the calm of the whole city.

Like in a dream. Such a beautiful, vivid dream filled with details you could spend your whole life observing and pursuing and still never reach the end. Wouldn't it be sad to wake up from such a dream? Wouldn't it be a terrible, terrifying shame if you never got to find out where that little boat went, what it'd be like to live in a little house peaking through the setting light, how the sky would look if you were flying through it separated by only a window?

If reality is only a dream, if life is only a passing gift that we've landed ourselves with by an impossible chance, then why not make the most out of it? What else is there? Incomprehensible nothingness and otherness. We only know this life. What do feelings and problems matter on the grand scale of things? Just look at the world. It's yours to explore, to see and smell and do. Why would you ever want to waste even a second of your life on unimportant feelings and other insignificant people?

Why would you ever want to end this wonderful dream early?

Speed of Life (see what I did there)

It's scary how fast life goes by these days. a day in a blink of an eye, a week in two. A year sometimes feels like you went to sleep on the 31st of December, only to wake up on the 31st of December a year later with the vague recollections of a very vivid dream.

I recently watched a video on Youtube explaining the whole "life is like a roll of toilet paper - it gets faster as you get nearer towards the end" quote. New experiences are always so vivid in our memory. The "firsts" of our lives happened in our childhood, making everyday when you were a kid seem like a journey, the littlest things traumatic, the tiniest surprises making you estatic.

But when we start to grow up, "firsts" become rare. There's not many firsts left for us to do. Or, more often than not, we choose not to take anymore "firsts". Because living inside your comfort zone is so damn comfortable right? Taking risks is.. well risky (brilliant vocab I have today), and being safe will guarantee contentment.

But contentment isn't happiness.. it's not that true, exhilarating happiness you experience in those brief and precious moments of your life. Why do people strive to be happy? Because it feels good I guess. But see, feeling good doesn't feel good if you feel good all the time (I can't help that my brain is coming up with such amazing synonyms). Happiness can only be truly appreciated if you've experienced hardship and stress and sadness and anger on the road to happiness.

Life is short because time flies. Time flies because what is time? It's all in your head. A set of mutual memories shared between a few people. Our brain records these memories and learns from them. If you don't do anything knew, the brain doesn't have to do much work to process what's just happened. That memory will just drift away and be lost among a whole swamp of murky happenings. Only your firsts remain vivid inside your head. They're milestones of your life, right?

To make time fly, easy. Do the same thing every single day. Soon it'll be almost robotic. You'll wake up to find yourself at work, not remembering how you got dressed, brushed your teeth and walked in a daze to the office. But it must have happened because here you are, exactly where you've been everyday at this time. Are you happy? No. But are you sad? No, you're not sad either. You're content.

But to make time slow down? To remember the vivid recollection that was last night, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline that was last night, the uncontrollable smile of true happiness that's the result of last night; well that's a bit harder. How can you constantly keep yourself on your toes? Doing new things, taking more "firsts" and creating more "lasts", making life feel longer and richer and fuller and grander...

Oh man I'm so hungry..

I need to

1. Stop buying things / spending money / buying things for the sake of spending money

2. Stop spending money just because I can / just because there's no one to stop me / just because if I was a Sim in Sims Social my 'social' and 'fun' meter would glowing red with an unimpressed and highly disapproving frowny smiley face next to it

3. Stop raging at that real estate guy (if he replies - if not then continue to slander him with obscenities)

4. Stop thinking about food (ideally the allocation of brain functionality between thinking about food vs.other should be at a ratio of 1:9 respectively. The current ratio of 8:2 is dangerously high and poses a threat to mental health / well being / ability to function normally

5. Stop writing this pointless and extremely unrealistic list because if I don't sleep within the next 45 minutes I'm going to end up as one of those Sims who scares away all their friends by accidentally-on-purpose insulting them due to PMS and a lack of sleep (also since I didn't have time to shower I'm going to smell real bad and have a posy of those virtual Sim flies buzzing around my bum)

So I want to talk about China

I've been too lazy to blog recently. Plus since I got back from China life has been so monotonous and repetitive and materialistic and lazy and safe and devoid of emotional turmoil/philosophical enlightenment, that 3 weeks have merged into one giant long day of haziness. And most importantly, since I feel so useless these days, I wanted to make sure I'd blog about something important. Something meaningful and provocative and good. Today I was feeling reminiscent of China, and I think I found something.

When you walk into a new country, sometimes it's like nothing has changed. Sometimes it's like everything is different. The ground you tread on is a dirt road, the sky above you is a murky grey, the air around you is crisp and stale at the same time, woven together with a tinge of sickly sweet. The 'sickly sweet' is a result of the mid-afternoon sun beating relentlessly on those few unfortunate mandarins that have fallen off from their branch a little early.

That was one of the most valuable experiences I gained on this trip around China. The feeling of bicycling down a country lane past fields of green, acres of not-yet-ripe mandarin trees, and an endless expanse of untainted silence - occasionally harmonised with a few bird calls, the 'ring-ring!' of another bicycle bell, or a steady tutting sound fading off into the distance as a scooter makes its way home.

Of course, it isn't a lost paradise. Even amongst the pandora-like mountains of Guilin, where the scenery along the Li Jiang river is so insanely beautiful it becomes surreal and my eyes at first refused to accept what it was really seeing, there are ordinary locals going about their harsh daily routine to make a living: Sons born along the river spend everyday rowing gondolas for money. Women wash clothes on the banks. The grandpas sit quietly inside century-old stone cottages, feeding chickens, cows and fish eagles. The grandmas sit outside with giant bowls of silk worms, spending the whole day peeling off silk to sell. The little kids run around the streets, playing with sticks, chasing chickens and drawing shapes into the dirt.

Older kids have already left for school in a nearby town. When we asked a little boy for directions, he opened his mouth and told us in a mature and serious voice. He then turned around and carried on playing with his friends and some empty fruit shells on the ground.

People in beautiful places like this don't get to experience the beauty. One of the gondola rowers told me, the locals born into this place often curse the beautiful mountains for existing. They're too steep to climb, too much stone to grow crops on, too stubborn and dense to take down. The only thing they're good for is to look at. So the whole city of Guilin, all the surrounding towns and villages dotted around its many rivers, thrive on the flocks of tourists, laden with cash and LV bags and iPhones, to provide them enough money to send their kid to school so that they can grow up not slaving over manual labour for a living.

My dad said to the gondola driver, "You're very lucky, this place is very beautiful. To be able to wake up and see a scenery like this everyday, you're very lucky."

The gondola driver replied: "Lucky? We don't call this lucky. We think people like you are lucky, people with enough money to travel, to see places, to eat whatever you want to eat and go where ever you want to go."

And my mum said to me, "Look at this place. Look at how the people live here. What if you'd been born here? What if you had to grow up feeding chickens and growing crops, toiling day after day and never given the opportunity to leave or to be better. Isn't it unfair how people are born into different places? Some people are born here, where little kids start working as soon as they understand how; some people are born into a rich house with rich food and never know the true meaning of 'work' or 'labour'."

Isn't it unfair? Isn't it unfair that there even exists on this planet, people who are so fat that they are at risk of dying if they get any fatter? These people whose gluttony knows no boundaries, whose government feeds them, and when they're about to die, gives them an operation worth tens of thousands to save their pitiful life so they can keep on sitting and eating.

Compare them to the old grandmas who peel silk all day to sell; to the old grandmas who walk around the streets picking up plastic bottles and adding them to the big bag over one shoulder; to the old grandmas that swarm around tourist vans gently begging you to buy a flower wreath they weaved themselves for just 2RMB, their eyes filled with sincere pleading.

I know that there are millions, if not billions all over the world living in such undeveloped places, living in the past, living where such ordinary things to us are treated as luxuries by them. I also know that often, the financial situation of families can be so dire that they resort ro petty and cruel ways of making money, getting little kids to beg to invoke sympathy, even mutilating their own child so that they can horrify more people into opening their wallets.

But seeing these people and these places with your own eyes is very different to knowing. The faces of old people pleading me to buy their hand made flowers remind me of my grandma. It reminds me that they're probably a grandma to some kid, and unlike me, that kid might depend on his grandma's many 2RMBs to be able to eat something yummy tonight for dinner or to be able to get a new school bag. Even if these people are knowingly taking advantage of your pity, even if they're tricking you to pay more, ripping you off, even if there are far too many of them for you to be able to help, the truth remains that they need your 2RMB much more than you do.

The most painful truth about all this is that really, there's nothing that can be done to change the lives of these people. At least, nothing immediate, nothing on a scale smaller than a revolution, nothing that can be achieved without ensuing more damage or suffering first. The fact is that China, like India, just has so many people. So. Many. People. How is it possible to ensure all of them can live a decent life? You can't. China's huge. Massive. Compare it to New Zealand, this small, minuscule country with a history of around a hundred years, versus China, the Middle Kingdom that began developing over 5000 years ago, the economy, the culture, the language, the way of living, all thousands of years old. How do you change a way of thinking and a way of living so ancient, so ingrained into everyone there?

I don't really know what I'm trying to say. All I want is for those old grandmas out everyday begging tourists to buy their hand-made things to be able to live a life where they don't have to.

***

Li Jiang River, mountains of Guilin (image edited using iphone)

View from within an alley in a small village tucked away on the river bank

My dad's gondola raft rowing past a patch of houses along Yu Long river

View from my raft down Yu Long river. Surreal beauty. So tranquil. Water so clear and still, it's amazing.

Old grandmas peeling a sort of vegetable by hand in a village

Mother gives her child a ride while doing work

Someone's door

Letting hand made noodles dry in the sun

Three person journey.

New goal

Hmmm I was deliberating whether to title this post as "I have a dream" or "A new hope", but I resisted (watching too much Big Bang Theory makes you come up with cheesy/nerdy puns I've concluded). But yeah with this year's results coming out, the subject of scholarships has been broached again by my parents. The computer science department is not without its rewards (as I've only just discovered, although it's still not as well funded as some other departments). There's a "Kiwiplan Scholarship" worth 4.5k that's rewarded each year to three students in their second-to-last year of study. For me that'll probably be next year (although I'm still doubting whether I can be mentally mature enough to jump straight into the workforce after only 3 years at uni...) and all they ask is a bare minimum GPA of 6, "excellent" verbal/written english, and enough charisma to convince them that you have problem solving skills, project management skills, interpersonal skills, keen interest and relevant experience etc. etc.

The main thing is that the recipients also receive around two and a half months of summer employment at the Kiwiplan company. They're even so reasonable as to give your two weeks of holiday upon request. And although working away the whole summer for two months+ (not being able to return home or go overseas..) it still sounds like a pretty good deal to me. As long as they do pay you and it's not one of those "voluntary work experience" internships that may look great on your CV but leaves you broke from paying accommodation costs.

I wonder how I can make myself proactive at uni next year. It's not like high school where councils are easy to get into and you do basically fat all for the whole year.. maybe AIESEC? I have to work super hard to maintain grades as well as not drop out halfway through the year like I kinda did with everything I joined this year. But why not, it's better than being a bum and wasting my time away playing facebook games and watching American/British sitcoms like I did this year (apart from Dr Who. Time watching Dr Who was time well spent)

Lol and I initially had the plan to fill my spare time next year with gym. Out of laziness I'd pick study over gym any day, cognitive exercise is so much less painful than any form of physical exertion.

Oh god I'm such a nerd.

Today

Woke up today on the right side of the bed for the first time in a long time. The sun was shining, the day was fresh, I felt so light-hearted and happy. Even though I missed my bus and had to spend ten bucks catching the airport flyer instead only to wait another fifteen minutes for the bus driver while he tinkered on his monitor and walkie-talkied his boss about how to sign into his shift, (huge breath) for some strange reason that still didn't ruin my day.

The feeling of talking to someone, gossiping and laughing after such a long drought of social interaction due to my unhealthy relationship with my bed (and occasionally cheating on it with my laptop), is amazing and so liberating. For strange some reason being back in Wellington just makes things so much more easier and straightforward. The things I was running away from last year seem silly. And for some strange, strange reason, today Wellington felt so much brighter and better than Auckland.

Plus I got my grades back! Well all but one (The one that I know I did worse in... but let's just ignore that for fear of spoiling this strange day). I got a pleasant surprise, I'm still suspecting it's a typo tbh, or, today's just a really, really good day. The results that came out only left me with one regret (because missing out on a grade by only 1% just seems much too unfair, I only needed to work that teed bit harder...), but other than that I've been so relieved and happy and carefree today, it makes me want to always feel this way.

NEXT YEAR EVERYDAY WILL BE LIKE TODAY :D FEEL HAPPY ALL THE DAYS!

Keep being happy! Go go! I can do it! Don't let things get me down, be brave, be strong and don't look back at the past, just concentrate on the future. Do it!

Lol even while typing these things already reality's sort of setting in, the blind euphoria's wearing off.

Dear Brain,

I'll deal with troubles and worries tomorrow, please please let today remain untainted, just this one little day.

Sincerely,
Heart

That's it, isn't it?

That story uncanningly reminds me of my own parents. And probably so many other parents as well. Didn't my dad come to NZ by himself with a work visa? For two years he was here by himself, working part time and studying at uni with a loan. He'd come with a group of men in similar situations, but he was one of the only ones who persisted and stayed. After two years he deemed it time for my mum and me to come. We lived off around $100 a week at that time in a small flat with second hand furniture. I wonder how I was so oblivious to these things back then. I don't even know what sort of jobs my parents had. It must have gotten better because we could afford to buy a new (second hand) car before we drove down to Wellington. Wow, and I remembered we had to stay in a hostel at the city hospital before we could find a house to rent.

I'm almost in awe at my parents. My dad especially. How could I have taken everything for granted growing up? How did my dad, in the space of 15 years, manage to build a life here for us from scratch? He had to learn a new profession, a new language, way of society, a new culture. And yet here we are now, stable, indulging in excess because we can afford it, and my parents undoubtedly both have successful jobs, my dad extremely so. He climbed to the top.

This just proves it. I've realised the whole point of all this remembering. The real world is like survival of the fittest. My dad was the fittest. He survived and built us all this.He succeeded. I have the same genes. The survival gene. The fittest gene. The success gene. He slaved and worked so, so hard for who else? For me, so I could have the opportunity to succeed as well. So I could have better opportunities, more opportunities, and be even more successful, right? So my children, my future family, and generations on, can indulge excessively in a rich and comfortable quality of living.

It makes me wonder if it's true, the fact that some people think homeless people deserve what they get. If they'd just try, perhaps they would get somewhere better in life? Is it possible? Because right now for some reason, I feel like my parents have earned the right to indulge in every single dollar they spend, no matter what it's on. They have the right to do what they want with their money - maybe their hardships aren't as pitiful or tough as those endured by people living off the streets, but they've earned this life for themselves, and I definitely believe that if you want something, then you have to work hard until you earn it and deserve it.

I've wasted a whole hour trying to analyse all these random thoughts. Panic is setting in, the fact that my parents are constantly ringing every hour definitely speaks volumes about how much they want me to do good in this next exam. Well at least now I know I'm armed with the success gene, as well as the "blood and sweat and toil" gene, so with the strongest resolve I can muster, I'm going to study this exam so hard that it's gonna beg for my mercy on friday to go easy on it as I pull out the moves (yeeah I dunno about the likelihood of that ever occuring but you gotta aim high to get somewhere...)

I've just realised something. It's selfishness isn't it? When we procrastinate, when we go out and party instead of studying, when we play games instead of doing what we're suppose to be to guanrantee a bright future, we're just being selfish. Our generation is pretty selfish and self-indulging.. everyone's guilty. What's worse is that studying and doing work isn't even a selfless act. It's not like it's all for your parents and none for you. In fact it's predominantly for yourself. But often that's not a strong enough motivator.. because think about it, you can deal with hurting yourself, but would you hurt your parents? Love is a better motivator than anything else. Than bitterness or competitiveness or ambition or redemption. If you know you have to work hard to not disappoint the ones you love, then that should be all you need. If you still can't summon the self resolve to do something for someone who was always there for you from the first time you fell over to now, then question your own morals and priorities for a second. Everyone's more than capable of achieving things they have labelled off as "unrealistic". You just have to want it for the right reasons. But that's just my take on it. I'm sure for a lot of people, their situation would be different. Still, just something to think about.

I wonder how they've been

So in the middle of my intense exam-cramming this morning, I (predictably) drifted off into a daydream, revisiting random thoughts and recollections of things gone past. I suddenly remembered a chef and his wife from the Chinese takeaway place I used to work at, people I hadn't thought of in a long, long time. It's strange to realise that those times with these people who I'd almost forgotten about was actually something I wrongly took granted for. Looking back now they were really, truly valuable and precious moments, simple and filled with warmth and care-free banter. And why? Why was I reminiscent of hours labouring under the heat of a part-time job, with a few random Chinese migrants I hardly knew? It's stranger and more surprising to realise that the answer is because I hadn't felt that carefree and happy for a long time. Which annoys me. Why can't things just be like that? Why couldn't I be as simple, the people around me be as simple? It's not like I lacked the stress and workload that I have now, back then I had two jobs as well as year 13 and pressure to do well in everything. In fact, I think that was much more work and stress compared to my situation now. Yet everything was so simple. I had to earn money so I had money to visit Auckland during the holidays. I had to earn money to support myself, to gain work experience, to feel independent, to be independent. And most importantly, I had to do well in school, join random councils and groups I didn't really want to join because I wanted a scholarship to Auckland. Bottom line was I had to work hard at everything so I could create a legitimate excuse for myself and for my parents, for choosing the "illogical" path that was Auckland. I thought everything would pay off when I could come here and free myself of the suffocating confines of Wellington; that small place; that small, stuffy, dull little city that I always took for granted.

(I'm really getting side-tracked and it's now approaching 2:46pm.. when the time hits 3pm I know my productivity is bound to decrease so I should really stop writing and get on with the study.. but I'm in one of those "have to regurgitate this over-powering and somewhat self-obsessive emotion or else I'll just continue to reflect times of the past like a fool" moods.)

The point of all this is that I wanted to properly remember Da Jun and Bin Bin, the chef and the wife. I worked with Da Jun the whole time I was at Hungry Wok, so I guess I did know him for quite a while? Must have been two and a half years at least, and coincidentally the time I started working there was when he started as well, that was when he first came to New Zealand. Actually he wasn't really a migrant, he didn't even have PR. All he had was a work visa, and I think I remember him taking a break for a few months once so he could go back to China and visit his wife. To be honest, it really surprised me that he had a wife, although it shouldn't have. He must have only seen her a couple of times, if not only once, during the first two years in NZ. It makes me think, what sort of resolve does one need to do something like that? To leave behind everything that was familiar, leave behind your wife and job and home, step into a foreign country, and work six days a week at a Chinese takeaway (because where else would take you?) because you had to earn money? He told me in one of those engaging conversations we used to have, that what he earned now, although merely a takeaway job, was so much more than the a lot of the RMB wages people earn back in China.

Being honest, he was quite a charismatic guy. When I first started the job I was so scared and shy and overwhelmed with everything there was to remember. I can't remember when we first started talking - a bit after I came out of my shell perhaps? - but when we did start talking, it was the most amusing conversations, I can't even remember half the stuff, they were just interesting. And his wife, when he told us that she was going to visit for a few months and come live with him here in NZ, oh the anticipation of meeting her was thick in the air alright. She was lovely, really hard working, sensible, strong and reminded me of one of my younger relatives from China. I don't know why I liked them so much, I just did. I felt really happy for them at first, it must have been a really long time coming, that reunion. But nothing's ever so easy right? She had to work on below minimum pay at the takeaway because, how else does someone who didn't know english find a job? Because she couldn't stay at home everyday doing nothing while her husband works 6 days a week right? I remember trying to help her find an english class, like the ones my grandma goes to. But none of the classes take people with no PR. She shouted me some sushi for helping her on that trip, but thinking back now I wonder why I even let her. That must have been worth around two hours of work for her at that time at least, it should be me shouting her.

I'm kinda sad that after I left Hungry Wok near the end of the year for exams and for uni, I never said goodbye properly. Bin Bin went up to Palmerston North towards the end to stay with some of Da Jun's friends, and that was the last I saw of her. I was so naive back then, thinking I could introduce her to the Chinese girls I worked with at Bubble tea so she could make some friends apart from Da Jun's. She seemed so much more mature than them though. The manager at bubble tea was a post-grad accountant student at Vic uni, they were the same age, but she was the sort to shop everyday, have so many pairs of shoes her boyfriend complains, and snack indulgently on the rich cakes and desserts we used to sell. I'm not sure if Bin Bin was that type of girl back in China, but it was just so hard to imagine her indulging in excess like that. Although, I wish she could've instead of the hardship.

Da Jun left work before I left for Auckland. I didn't see him leave, just came to the shop one day after school to say hi and found a new chef where he used to be. Apparently he'd gone to palmy as well. I wonder how they're doing now? Maybe if I visit palmy one of these days, they'll be working at some place there? Or maybe they've gone back to China. We talked about the right time to have a kid once, and it was agreed upon that the time was ripe for the both of them and they had to get a move on with getting Bin Bin pregnant.

What's truly important

So I've come to realise why life feels so aimless and dull and dreary. It's not motivation I lack (well actually it kinda is but it sounds better to say it this way), more like a lack of something to motivate me. I need a challenge. Not only that, I need fierce competition. Having embraced the calm of lying in bed unable to sleep and letting deep and transcending thoughts attack my mind (well, not calmly and not embraced), I've realised that shockingly, I can't remember when was the last time I actually set a goal and fulfilled it. I mean there were certainly high points in my life this year when I did achieve something semi-noteworthy in contrast to the drone of everything else, but it didn't come about as me setting myself a target and doing whatever it takes until I reached it.

To think I used to cry over a Merit in English or that I'd gained 0.5kg. My past self is almost laughable when I think about it that way. The conclusion to all this however, is that I've realised that I can't be satisfied living day after day devoid of the need to prove myself. I need to need to prove myself (WORDCEPTION; wait not really). I need competition to overcome so I can prove myself. Oh, won't you come out and play darling little rivals of mine? Maybe I should be like Monica and learn how to compete with myself. But I'd most likely lose to my past self, so that's no fun at all.

When I think of the unfairness so many things gone past, people who've wrongly assumed the worst of me, accused me of things I didn't do, recognition that I should've been received for blood and sweat and hardwork but instead went to people who were simply lucky and blundered on into the prize, most of all, the injustice of so many things still going on in the world; if somehow I was given a voice, then I can speak out? Then something can be done to make those close-minded, ignorant people see, to see why they are so wrong, why their vision is so narrow that it hardly permits then to see anything but what they want to see.

Something I've also noticed is how this blog has progressively become more self-centered and "woe-is-me". I don't like it, although I'm not sure if I can help it. There are days when my mood is so dark, my outlook so grey that it seems like I have to write it all down, pour out the venomous black liquid filling me with bitter resentment or else be at risk of imploding/exploding/becoming a black hole of gloom. Maybe if I manage to work this self-improvement thing and succeed in my goal (note the goal setting; I'm beginning to improve already!), maybe it'll inspire me to write about other things, more important things than myself (haha). The need to make this blog arose because I needed to publish something really badly; that first entry was a message I wanted to convey to as many people as possible: and I still do. If you haven't read it and you're reading this, read it please.

http://bittersweeted.blogspot.com/2010/10/look-at-us-all-living-little.html

I know I've changed a lot from the person who wrote that. It's so hard to not be superficial and not become absorbed into the over-indulging, materialistic lifestyle around us. It's very, very hard to keep a grasp on that feeling of transcendence when you realise the world has much bigger fish to fry than your little woes and joys, and likewise you, should have bigger fish to worry about than your own silly little goldfish dilemmas. When I lose my grasp on that mind set (okay, to be honest it's been out of reach for awhile; playing hard to get), I read back on what I wrote last year and the undeniable emotions of sadness and disgust at our superficial come back to me for a that brief moment. It's still there. I just have to sort out myself first before I can fully grasp it and show the world what's really important.

A great man's words

“Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn't matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful… that’s what matters to me.”

“Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

“Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

~ Steve Jobs

Whether you think he is a great man, whether you think he's corrupt or greedy or someone who's got the blood and pain and sweat of millions of workers out there, whether you like Apple or loathe Apple, admire his work or hate his work, you cannot deny that regardless of what sort of man Steve Jobs might have been, he still accomplished many, many great things in the life that he was given. It could have been great and wonderful or great and terrible, but it was great. Even if such technology and innovation, such addiction and distraction becomes the ruin of man, it would be at the hands of only one man; one great man; and it would be this man.

His inspiration is for all of us to have done something wonderful for the world. Something that has at least changed the lives of a small group of people for the better. I recently watched the film Ballet Shoes. Three orphans, all abandoned by their parents at birth become sisters, and they vowel to put their names into the history books, to achieve greatness, to have the names which are uniquely theirs engraved into the history of humanity.

Our lives are at stake every second of everyday. The ultimate threat of death is always there, we always have something to lose. Take the leap. Make the jump. Take a risk if you think it could take you somewhere wonderful, and perhaps one day make the world just that little bit more wonderful too.

For some reason

For some reason these days I feel like I can't be bothered to do anything.

(Which sounds really bad. And it is. I'm not really talking about just school work either. By this time throughout the year I've sort of had the time to deduct that nothing I take right now can be so hard for me to master that I'll actually struggle intensely. So I've slipped into a sort of over-confident mindset (always a warning sign), skipping class and skimming texts until the week or few days before an assessment when I know I have to study.)

I feel like I'm just so tired of my life, everything, day after day, it's all so monotonous. I can't take it.

The worst thing is I've recently fallen into a state where I just can't be bothered interacting with people. It's just too much effort, really it is. When I bump into someone and stop to say hi which consequently leads into a conversation about uni and life, all I'm thinking is that really right now I'd much rather be in my little shoe box room by myself, curled up in my bed watching doctor who and eating instant noodles. But then I get tired of that too, being alone and eating noodles. (I ran out of doctor who to watch) It's just that it's become like an instinct to stop trying to be social at all. I'm too tired. Thinking back to the beginning of the year when I tried so much, chatted to people in lectures and tutorials, at lunch, at my hall.. now it's just too tiring. It's not my natural instinct to talk. I prefer the silence. To think instead. I've always been used to doing things by myself, because I grew up doing almost everything by myself. I remember when I was little, at first it was a weird notion to ask someone to go on an errand with me, to go toilet, to go to the office, when I could do it perfectly well by myself. That used to be my mindset.

But then high school and things change you. Going to camp, suddenly meeting such an onslaught of new people, faces, you start to evolve and blend in with the status quo. And even though I still feel like I'd rather be alone instead of trying to talk to people, I can't, no matter how hard I try, revert back to the mindset that it's okay to be alone instead of trying to talk to people. So now when I have lunch by myself, I feel lonely. When I'm eating instant noodles by myself in my shoebox room and I can hear the laughter of people downstairs in the dining hall, I feel lonely. When I fall asleep at night listening to my neighbour and his girlfriend laughing hysterically and (for some really strange reason; haven't been able to work out why) doing monkey impersonations, I feel so, so lonely.

I wish I was still that little girl who could wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and run into the next room to sleep with my grandma.

I wish I was still that little girl who was perfectly content with spending a glorious day in a little corner of the library, reading to her heart's content and, when the sun starts setting, start walking home in the fresh evening air, licking a 50c ice cream from maccas (because I had 50c and I was old enough to buy one without parental guidance).

(I also wish that right now I had more than 99c in my bank account so I can go downstairs and buy a pie/melona from city star.)

I never thought I'd say this but I even miss high school sometimes now, which is really, really strange because by the end of year 13 I really hated it. Maybe I just miss those days spent in the design room with permission to skip all my classes so I could finish a brief on time. I definitely kind of miss that last hectic week of art painting; the whole class sprawled over every inch of ground and corridor in the art block, painting, painting, gluing, drawing, sticking smoothing.. a year's sweat and pain accumulating to those final few hours of marathon painting.

(Is that why I miss high school; art? Because with art and design I could always challenge myself to do better, create better? Yes, there were no boundaries to what was good enough, you could never be good enough, always better. But with programming and logic and maths, all there is is right or wrong. All you need to do is learn it and do it. No need for brainstorming, inspiration, hours of designing concepts, thumbnail sketches and fiddling with every single little detail because you know it all matters, every last layer, every last stroke.)

Hang on; I just remembered (yes I'd forgot..) what else I miss so much about high school is English. Scholarship English on thursday afternoons, Mr. Edgecombe digging up some short story or novel from the literary canon, and while analysing the first passage of the text our conversation would somehow wander and get swept away by a controversial debate. I remember thinking at that time; "This is what I enjoy and I want to be able to talk to people like this in the future, have discussions like this, philosophical musings and analysing hidden meanings simply talk about deep things that make you do a double take and go, wow, that was deep". Guess that didn't exactly work out :|

I don't even know what I'm trying to say, just all these random emotions and thoughts floating around in my head when I still can't fall asleep at 3 in the morning.

I think the reason for all this is that I don't feel like there's any point to get up every morning. There's nothing to look forward to anymore. Life is dull, life is lonely, and life is full of boring, unchallenging and mundane tasks to do that presents itself to me with no great interest. Basically, life is go to uni (feel hungry), class, eat, procrastinate, (study maybe), home, doctor who, (occasional midnight snack), (deduce that it's time to vacuum/laundry/clean up), sleep, and repeat till I want to bang my head against the wall in monotony.

This is a really long entry.

But anyways, I've just finished watching doctor who behind-the-scenes on youtube, concluded that 99c is not enough to buy anything from city star apart from a lollipop, deduced that yes, I really need to vacuum and wash my clothes soon (note: cash out one dollar coins next time at city star) and yes, I need think to think about sleeping sometime within the next hour.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN BORN NOCTURNAL TRULY I SHOULD HAVE. THE NIGHT IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND FRESH AND DARK AND MYSTERIOUS AND AT TIMES SCARY AND WILD BUT AT TIMES SO SERENE AND STAR LIT THAT IT MAKES YOUR HEART ACHE THAT YOU CAN'T JUST JUMP OUT THE WINDOW AND FLY, SOAR THROUGH THE COOL NIGHT BREEZE AND LOOK AT THE SEMI-RESTING CITY WITH ALL ITS LIGHTS AND GLITTER AND PATCHES OF SECLUSION.

THAT WAS A VERY LONG SENTENCE.

I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP.

:(

PS. I FORGOT HOW TO TURN OFF CAPS OH NOES IT'S STUCK... FIVE-EVER (DATS MOOOOAR DEN 4EVA)