ambivalence

what if inside out were real & sometimes we can't put a finger to what we are feeling bc some of our crucial core memories have been misplaced & sucked out via the memory tube into god knows where  & our personality islands are crumbling into the memory dump one by one but outside we are still oblivious to the hullabaloo that is happening inside (i.e. joy & sadness have set on a treacherous journey & are lost in islands long forgotten inside ourselves & trying to make it back before the last personality island sinks into the abyss) yet only painfully aware that we are feeling confused & feeling everything all too hard at once.

???

confused bc my head & heart don't & won't see eye to eye.
(frustrated bc it would be really nice if the 'f' in my mbti could uncurl itself into a 't' instead.)

放手

drew up a mental list;
sent a lantern up
to god;
walked out of the theatre
that played tapes on rewind;
altered my playlist
to signify an independent entity -
one month has been long enough.
let the colour of my nails
be the only
commemoration.
(i deserve better)

no longer

by the end of december - 'yet' will cease to be.

resolve ii

one of the few, rare days when my heart feels like it can finally be adamant about point eight of thought catalog's recent post i.e. sixteen things to say goodbye to in 2k16.

busyness

this week has been rather insane - the semester has finally ended but i am ironically (in this moment) around five times busier than i had normally been during the semester: as much as i would have liked a respite to celebrate the end of my first semester in college, this busyness is helping me to find my grounding in this place - to put it crudely, i am actually doing something with my life!! & finally set on the trajectory to grow up!! i will remember that i came here to push myself beyond my comfort zone & therefore suck it up: growth is necessary and the time is now.

(i am glad i did) 

monologue

morning, 6th: i will be there if you ask me to.

thanksgiving

had my very first thanksgiving dinner yesterday, & despite - i remember telling myself that i am still thankful for week seven bc it has truly been the best thing that has happened thus far in ync.
(you didn't ask me for my reply, but like you, I have also moved on: only in terms of mindset - not in terms of person, yet - at least i am still working on it.) 

resolve

i have resolved to stop moping about in my vacuous cavern - i will stop fuelling my own negativism & start living with the conviction that happiness is merely what you make out it. i am a daughter of the most-High - it is time i start living like one & stop this see-sawing of emotions contingent on things merely of the world.

learning

(still) learning how to leave behind 'what ifs', but i am getting better at it as each day passes. i will remember why & how it certainly is for the better.

(how could i tell you that my favourite memory of the himalayas was the time spent with you at the rooftop at sainji, where it had all begun.) 

just another interlude

thank you for those more than gucci memories 

i am where You want me to be

then You crash over me, 
& that's where You want me to be:
i'm going under - i'm in over my head. 

whether i sink, whether i swim, it makes no difference when i'm beautifully in - over my head. 

ninagawa's kafka

i read once somewhere that we only have favourite songs bc they remind us of certain favourite memories, memories which can be lived vicariously through hitting the replay button again & again until the line between song and memory converges and blurs, until the wholeness of that particular experience becomes osmosed into every fibre of our being.

i've been replaying sigur ros' untitled i (vaka) an innumerable number of times since ninagawa's kafka on the shore ended (i've lost count) in order to relieve the magic that was last night bc words will not do justice to how full i had felt during and even after the play. i was brimming - it felt as if that cavern of nothingness towards prior passions was slowly filling up again as i remembered why i had loved literature so ardently prior to coming here i.e. college. i remember telling myself that this fullness, this sense of feeling wholly connected with my soul, was the predominant reason why i had loved words and their potential to bestow form on the formless. there amongst the audience i rediscovered and lifted the lid off my memory box. it was an incredibly amazing experience - the characters were exactly as i had envisaged them in my head while devouring the book: nakata in his pink polo and sunhat, oshima in a crisp white blouse twirling his collection of yellow pencils, miss saeki in the cobalt silk dress / looking professional af in her working ensemble & nude heels, colonel sanders looking just like the mascot from kfc etc. - it was mind-blowing to have my imagination coincide with reality before my eyes: the resemblance was so uncanny i became unsure which elements were constructions of my imagination and which were explicitly stated (by murakami) in the text. there in the theatre i felt as i had never felt in a long, long while, the elusive feeling of being truly alive. it was a finding place - and perhaps afterall i had to step out of campus in order to plug in with myself again - it was a much needed catharsis.

when the play finally ended (to our dismay) and the applause was well-deservingly deafening, i think i understood alittle of what i had learnt in csi lecture in the afternoon - the sense of a collective effervescence, of oneness with the crowd. i felt so incredibly blessed (for lack of a better word) to be sharing this experience of having world-class japanese actors perform for us with people who were coming from a common, shared love for the plot, for having borne witness to the authentic experience of watching the novel in its original language, for having shared this experience with joy & sars who had read the book almost along with me (we read at around the same time so we could talk about it tgt) - people who had shared and still share my exact sentiments about literature. it was a perfect night - even on the way back, joy and i were so adamant on finding the soundtrack bc we knew it was somewhere deep in the recesses of our ipods - we had definitely heard it before & so we were going through every single song by the cinematic orchestra on her ipod, filtering every song through a shared earpiece without any luck & i tried mine and we chanced upon sigur ros at the same time & the moment it played we died alittle inside bc it just brought back a wave of fresh memories from the play. it was the perfect friday night - i was alittle bummed out about having to miss my first halloween in college but in retrospect i wouldn't have traded last night with any other nights - it was perfect in its own right bc i finally found myself, amongst words, amongst people whom i love and who love the same things i love.

stop lapsing into drift mode

finally catching a breather after the submission of three consecutive papers but my happiness has been inadvertently dampened by the first post that i saw on fb - a compilation of pictures wrt elderly people looking at their younger selves in the mirror and perhaps it was the confluence of qrion's soothing remixes in the background and the residual sadness i felt after watching jenn's recent ldr video (that made me feel her sense of loneliness) but oh my goodness i was so close to the point of tearing bc i felt such an indescribable sense of loss (for these elderly people, for myself in advance idk). i am probably not doing my emotions justice but what instinctively stabbed me was that one day i will be old and greying and i will look back to this point in my life - college as the apex of my youth and i will regret not living, not capitalising on my youth, not creating enough memories for myself to keep. i will regret merely drifting and not making the best out of what is supposed to be the time of my life. i feel like i am totally taking the learning opportunities i have here for granted - not bothering to read my texts properly on the pretext that i am tired, telling myself that i am tired of reading things that i am not interested to read - but at the same time not bothering to pick up things that i am actually interested to read bc i am just not in an intellectual mood i.e. procrastination (i am almost never in an intellectual mood i realised), telling myself that i am so done with school just bc of those few minuscule back-to-back assignments etc - it is just this sudden realisation that i have been feeding myself negative thoughts without even consciously realising that i am my own poison. i remember saying once that one of my greatest fears was peaking, but will i even be able to say that i have peaked when i am disintegrated by age???

i was honestly more motivated post-as than i am now and it is appalling bc i am supposed to feel passion in this place more than anywhere else. i am now lukewarm towards writing, lukewarm towards dance, lukewarm towards philosophy of the self etc - i rmb sitting in ppt class today struck by the notion of how the soul and body are so disconnected from each other, if you removed my soul and placed it in a glass jar it would just be a formless, incorporeal substance / so what is this face that i have been staring into the mirror everyday does it actually mean anything on its own?? it's just so scary to have to entertain the thought of my face as a mere shell.

i need to turn my habitual  'so done with school' catch phrase into a 'so into school'. i need to completely revolutionise my mindset that college is a finding place, not a drifting space. i need to reignite my passions and turn them into inexhaustible fuel. i need to start living - for the umpteen time and finally start meaning it.

i am where i worked so hard to be - it is time that i start making use of it.

sovereignty

feel like i am regressing into that cycle (once again) of actively seeking an ideal & being crushed in consequence / pinning the incorporeal on a physical vessel like building a temple to house a particular idol which represents a particular ideal, just so that my unfulfilled affection will & can be concentrated or confined to a central place of "worship". 

i am tired of actively seeking & trying to find fulfilment in human relationships when i know that they can never truly satisfy. i am tired of trying and wishing i could be lord over certain aspects of my life which i desire to see positive changes. god, i look up: bc truly, who can compare to You, who moves my heart the way You do? 

Your love is an end in itself - i have wandered enough. lead me beside still waters. 

-

resolutions are so incredibly hard to keep, nor are labels easy to retrieve once they are stamped - especially in times of loneliness and a singular craved presence.

(god forbid that history repeats) 

traversing

i think i am slowly finding myself again. 

(to anyone who will ever read this: on the contrary, i can be pretty good at conversations if we are not talking about how bad the haze is rn/the weather/how college is so tiring etc i.e. frivolous conversation starters. rather, come talk to me about things which matter to you - your feelings/your faith/your fears/your struggles/your passions - i promise that i am much better at these conversations.)

i am bursting with happiness

virgin movie night in the saga courtyard with eyes peeled on "spirited away", coupled with the tremendous joe hisaishi soundtrack and perfect weather - i have always envisaged the epitome of college nightlife as an outdoor night movie screening with people splayed on the grass patch - with juice, popcorn and nachos: tonight was perfect.

i have never felt so incandescently happy for such a long time - i adore how the fond memories associated with "spirited away" i.e. princesses sleepover are converging with newly-made memories of my best night thus far in ync and fusing into one giant bubble of intangible fondness. also, my suitemate just knocked on my door to hand me a packet of cold milo for energy to last through the night (since my best night is ironically characterised by impending deadlines for assignments but heck them for i am so happy) & it really just compounds the feeling of happiness and thankfulness beaming in my heart. this night has been so incredibly blessed with little pockets of happiness and my heart is so, so full. 

(thank You - for my cup overflows)

just a passing feeling but still

have this burning desire to walk around the campus at night & dive into a really deep conversation with someone (just anyone who will be able to connect on the same emotional level as mine) from this college specifically but i realised with a dull ache in my heart that there is truly no one whom i feel will get me at the crux of this inanity that is driving me insane bc i cannot put a finger to what i am feeling or why i should be feeling this way. i think i am at this point where my threshold for flippant relationships has been maxed out - what is the use of saying hi to everyone everywhere when at times like this i cannot even count on one hand people whom i'll be able to share such thoughts with?? also, i am feeling rather disappointed that presupposed anchors feel like they are merely flotsam at sea - which leaves me with such an acute loneliness bc beyond all that daylight chatter, who can i really count on?? maybe this is part & parcel of transition & settling down but the interim period i.e. here & now feels like crap & i merely have words & the xx for company.

i know this cloud will pass me by when day breaks but now i am still under its cover & i am soaked to the bone.

edit/ 3:05 a.m: so thankful for old friends beyond these immediate walls who uplift me with their company

coexistence

social interactions are so inexhaustibly exhausting but i think i am slowly forming a vague idea about what this place is about - the overarching college tagline that encompasses the essence of coexistence i.e. asia & the world is starting to strike a parallel with my new found propensity for coexistence within my psyche itself. my domineering introversion can now invite its extroverted counterpart for (what now almost feels like) cohabitation.

4.8.15, 9 a.m. / 2h boat ride in laos 

(i wrote:)

"foliage. the smiles of the local community at the passing boat which houses this bunch of rowdy college teens. me. recharging. more foliage. the way the roots are anchored to the bottom of the river bed - some shrubs fully submerged & some rearing what little token of resistance, of a fight to breathe above the murky mekong. the breeze - the cool of the wind glazing over my face & ruffling through my hair. the smiths in the background. excess exuberance. vociferous people. not me. the abandoned sampan. the useless tire dangling from the boat - either rendered completely invalid or extremely relevant i.e. man overboard. the inner quiet & invincibility rising from my chest. 

how this all feels so familiar, like the dawn of j1 in my secret garden at rj, resting on the peripheries. i may be in a different environment, with completely different people, but i am still the same. even the gap of years are futile in reforming where my psyche gravitates towards.

breathe soul, breathe, as you take in a drag of solitude, & the indescribably, satisfactory feeling of pen on paper, of alienating yourself (by choice) from the heart of social interaction." 

+ 

9.8.15, 12.30 a.m. / post-social night

is college opening this pair of latent eyes or lending me a pair of new ones? last night feels almost unreal bc it was truly my virgin experience of going to the zenith of social activity i.e. an in-house mixer - something i had prided myself on being absolutely apathetic about/had vehemently set in my heart not to participate during jc/post-as bc i truly saw no point in establishing flippant relationships hovering on the edge of drunkenness/warm bodies clumping together in reckless abandonment to really loud house music. & the twist is that i truly enjoyed it. i surprise myself by admitting that i really enjoyed dancing with new friends under the slight influence of an induced high from alcohol (note: i was still extremely sober despite the high bc self-protection is still extremely prized in my dictionary) with flashing lights that reduced visibility to near zero bc it was just so blinding. there was something about giving myself up to the beats (& beats are rly my thing) - the communion-like feeling of being whole with a crowd (i have almost always felt alone in a crowd, so this was truly a first in a long, long while.) yet, what i simultaneously loved about it was (& is still) how consent was still ultimately mine to give, that as opposed to oppressive peer pressure, i could still be truly proud of personal decisions that might have been contrary to what was popular/normalised in this budding culture i.e. not to swear/smoke/get drunk (present tense still applies).  

jc me would have scoffed at college me & perhaps even moralised about the danger of being compromised esp since alcohol is infamous for clouding judgement etc but college me attributes this to necessary growth that is more akin to the real world than excessive sheltering. 

juggling personal christian values & standing firm in them while simultaneously exploring the world beyond my shell; finding that times for quietness & times for expending my social battery may not be mutually exclusive -

there is a point for convergence, for coexistence. 

~ drifting ~

i feel unsafe precisely bc this is such a safe community
(bc the word 'safe' is so subjective & bc i cannot help but sit on the fence)

(perhaps this is what growth feels like & i'll need larger pants)

fusion

somehow knowing that i am back to the arts route is like balm to my irresolute heart: perhaps all this while i have been staving off the hunger towards this intrinsic predilection & hardening my mind to feast my eyes on alternative distractions - just so that the alternative path would not have hurt so much. i do not regret choosing pragmatism though - opening my eyes to the options available then and making an unwavered decision based on practicality, which was the next best route i could have taken.

even though waiting so earnestly with bated breath was agonising to the point of hot tears, it had sowed in me seeds of groundedness that i had always shunned away from (i think i am almost a different person in that aspect compared to rj days). i am just so thankful that god has given me this opportunity to reconcile both ideals and new-found practicality - this is indeed (in my opinion) the best confluence of both worlds.

nevertheless, it still feels like i am taking a plunge - but what a ride it will be, that i am certain of.

arrival: promised land

today marks the fulfilment of the second clause in His long-standing promise that had seen me through the arduous past year & the wait that had ensued: He has taken me from

"strength to strength, & glory to glory". 

a closing door flung open, a shredded rope hauled to shore. 

this is the ultimatum - the promised land brimming with milk & honey.

wanderer

god just let me settle somewhere i am tired of being neither here nor there

(i've waited for four months for an inconclusive conclusion & i know that i am acting like a child - moses waited for forty years, yes - but i am not moses & i will never be moses / i don't even need the promised land anymore just lead me to green pastures & still waters.)

float

i am in a box with its edges blurred out: traversing through the abstruse, watching the new lend a different dimension to the old, even when they are in essence the same.

one thing i am sure for now: i am carving in stone, not casting in stone.

read it

feeling relatively misunderstood & inane & chafed to the brink so read this if you do not understand how this psyche of mine works, bc this is so spot on (despite the dubious looking link, i promise):

http://hipsterinfj.tumblr.com/post/10500211264/bears-repeating-how-to-understand-an-infj

wondering if i form my personality type or if it forms me 

personality types

since i am in the season of exploring the relationships i hitherto have with people (bc uni is coming up & i am thrilled to expand my circle of friends - i think perhaps the extroverted element in me is finally fighting back) but it always comes back one full circle i.e. to myself, i have been reading up so much on anything that has to do with mbti personality types - particularly those revolving around my designated personality type, in order to find out more about myself which i have never been quite able to frame into words. for the most part, they are uncannily accurate that i almost feel like they have been crafted using myself as the prototype??

since i am kinda in a writing rut & my brain is spewing incoherence from sheer lassitude (i actually have an epiphany regarding personality types but i'm sure that if i try to explain it now it will come out as garbage bc my eyelids are so heavy), this is myself in thirteen bullet points:

http://thoughtcatalog.com/koty-neelis/2014/08/13-signs-youre-a-classic-infj/

(also, pretty bummed out that i'm not getting into lolita (yet) as much as i had envisaged/would have liked to)

promised land

where is the promised land? 

i have been imagining two diametrically opposed scenarios at once & i feel alittle like a faux version of moses who pretends he hears god but everything is too abstruse to be definitive & perhaps he has mixed up his impression of the promised land & maybe there is no godliness in his heart, no desire for glorification but only avarice for the coveted milk & honey (sidenote: i laughed even in my seriousness at that ref). if only i could know what was on god's heart for me now call me impatient but i feel like this wait is expending my self-established armistice bc i recall how hard it was but i gritted my teeth & hardened my heart on an alternative decision so there could be some closure - maybe finality will come tomorrow but for tonight -

i really wish i could have my cake & eat it - for once. the ultimatum may perhaps not be the ultimatum anymore but i still want it, even if it means experiencing a dilemma like never before. 

(even the rays of the setting evening sun are relentless & scorching in an indoor bus interchange. if nature is already harsh & fighting till its last breath, i can only envisage the harshness of a wrong decision in the real world. either way, it will be both a blessing & a curse.) 

pragmatism

if i was illusioned and too idealistic for my own good in the past - an obstinate child who had enclosed herself in a temporal, romanticised bubble redolent of personal ideals,
i have woken up.

perhaps i may have fallen prey to society's tyranny over the individual or may simply have undergone a change of heart - either way, only now do i realise that i do not actually love what i like to the extent of being a martyr for it.

chase my dreams? follow my heart? capitalise on my passion(s)? all these are hefty ideals which can only lead to the ultimatum of "all or nothing". i am not prepared to end up with nothing. i simply do not love them that much. yet, this does not discount the pleasure of revelling in these things which i still treasure. they are tools of recreation & i intend to magnify their worth by reserving them for leisure.

(passion absent of opportunities will forever remain as a latent inclination, a throbbing in the heart that yearns for actualisation but is denied of a concrete, corporeal body.)

for once, i think my heart is reconciling with my rational head.
for this i am thankful, thankful that i can perhaps stop waiting so earnestly anymore.

a season of waiting

feels really good to wake up with a heart full of faith, especially after a cloudy night of feverish thoughts which tell me i am not good enough & thus am singled out to wait, once again (as if this is a measure of my worth??? but late night thoughts are often more warped than fresh thoughts which come with the dawn of a new day).

was leafing through my journal just to ascertain how true & good god has been to me - his sheer providence during the madness of a level days & his promises which were prayed over me, time & again. one particular promise (which had been prophesied over me two weeks before the actual a levels) has been the bulwark of my faith:

he will take me from strength to strength & glory to glory (if i believe) 

the former clause of his ultimate promise has already been fulfilled last year,
& i am still awaiting the latter of his ultimate promise, for the ultimatum.

this is no longer just prepping myself for false hope & aggravating the back-breaking fall that may succeed. this is believing that god does not do a work halfway, but sees it to its glorious fulfilment.

(do not tell me not to hope, bc hope is all that i have left before the door really closes)

i can finally feel !!!

have been working for five consecutive days this week & i am tired as heck but surprisingly enjoying the fulfilment of taking better ownership of time - as much as i love to laze around, the sweetness of rest is only truly emphatic with labour (just like the coveted one hr break after 11pm before bedtime, watching mindless yt vids that i absolutely used to treasure last yr). this rings ironically in my own ears (or eyes) but i think work has been slowly extricating my being from a state of stasis & the aforementioned desiccation.

for one, i am less apathetic about life & beginning to feel strongly about things again - which is a really good sign of recovery. happiness is crawling into bed after a long day, languid & aching but snuggled up in my trusty pink blankie, with cushions & the time traveler's wife (which is easing me out of my reading rut !!! finally, after a deadlock preceded by three seemingly promising but disappointing books. i usually try to finish a book as quickly as possible so that i don't seem like such a loser on goodreads - stagnant on a book for weeks; but i am deliberately snailing on this one bc i rly don't want it to end & i am afraid i'll hit a reading wall again). happiness is waking up with the sun while it is still relatively docile & watching its rays filtering into the kitchen gradually; happiness is sizzling my own bacon & cheese on a pan (bc i am not that alien to cooking now i.e. currently learning how to cook !!! which i am so glad i finally am) for breakfast & making my own wrap for lunch - occasionally even throwing in a salad for cleansing even though i know that the thousand island dressing defeats its purpose of existence. happiness is relishing in leisure time rather than deliberately wasting & wishing it away - the precondition of cherishing lies in its scarcity, which i now possess. (lol that oxymoron). happiness is also finding new music to fuel the soul i.e. mansions on the moon - also, is it weird that i use soundcloud as my predominant music channel/to listen to beats/alt music??? 

crude realisation that this post is pretty pointless with stale revelations that i had alrdy known i.e. happiness taking the form of simple things but i am just so happy that i am finally writing & feeling again 

(still waiting for the ultimatum but as each day inches towards that day of knowing my heart increasingly clenches like a fist & sometimes i really just pray to God to let me have my way in this & i pray so hard that this dream of mine is also his & i wonder if i am once again blurring the lines between faith & expectation but God, you know best, you know best)  

ultimate desiccation

desiccated. lacklustre (in the pursuit of fulfilment/passion). i am a desert. the oasis is a merely a hole of dried earth. why is there hardly a thing now that can make my heart beat with euphoria, just like the old, golden days??? perhaps now is a season of unfortunate convergences - lost that sheer luck to get my hands on a good book/movie/flow of language etc (even my sentences are so awfully disjointed rn) that can redeem me from my passion-centered stasis. there is trouble when i simply become disinterested even in living vicariously through someone else. why does passion in all forms elude me all at once?? (i feel like only the ultimatum can be my trump card out; but it is still lying in the deck & may never be mine - yet i also know that it makes sense to hope for the best & not expect at all. the line invariably blurs between faith & expectation - if i believe that God can make a miracle, does that imply i'm expecting him to come true for me??)

i keep looking back to the past for reference & it was truly the bad that had coloured the good into magnificence. how precious the good had seemed then. yet, i wouldn't want to go back - this is my dilemma. i am uncomfortably comfortable in my wizened cocoon.

solitude used to charm me like an addiction. now i feel like i need to be around people to ward off the boredom of being a profligate (of time). funny how the (hopefully momentary) absence of passion leaves a void that mutates even my intrinsic personality.

pride

it is so convenient to point fingers at the perpetrator who has fired up these dormant flames of indignation - as that sense of self-entitlement chafes against my insides & bears its fists, bringing violence for a little token of vengeance. for killing my pride, i am convinced my wrath is justified.

yet,

how much is this pride worth? why do i hold on so dearly to it, as if it defines & measures my self-worth? (whatever happened to "no one can make me feel irrelevant without my consent"??)  this very pride is the actual perpetrator of utter decimation i.e. any remaining shreds of humility, kindness, love (etc) left in that (already) crowded out heart.

// !! stop sleeping !! you are rendering yourself irrelevant, not them. all it took was a shove & you are down on the ground, wailing out in frustration & fighting back bouts of madness. the way to fight back is to fight what's inside - has God not pointed out to you this since the dawn of march? //

give honour where honour is due 

(perhaps, this is Your favour clothed in a disguise) 

waiting for the ultimatum

this is me

sitting on the edge with

bated breath, 

beckoning for the ultimatum. 

(of dreams hitherto conjured)

so that there can be

rest -

from this marathon of covetousness, of silent envy;

which has made a farce

out of bona-fide friendships 

or unmitigated happiness for someone else other than the 

carnal self.  

with frosted breath,
i wring my hands
and wait.

rest in peace, mr lee kuan yew

"integrity of life is fame's best friend, which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end." 

(duchess of malfi, john webster) 

i am thankful for my education that has enabled me to internalise the extent of his contributions to singapore; but more importantly, i am so immensely thankful that his wholehearted & passionate devotion to building up this country has even enabled me this education in the first place. 

thank you mr. lee, for epitomising the integrity of life with such a fierce passion that it inspires me to emulate in your footsteps. as i've taken away from literature classes last year: even though death is universal & "...all things have their end", the honest mourning of the entire nation stands as a testament to your greatness, which "nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end."    

on reading // (kickass) j.w. quotes

haven't posted in awhile & i was just pondering over why i have a natural inclination towards reading (possible interview q) so here are some beautiful jeanette winterson quotes i took down while reading "why be happy when you could be normal" while listening to some kickass xolo (btw the book title is more apt than it seems bc that was what j.w's mother told her wrt to her sexuality !!!)

“i believe in fiction and the power of stories because that way we speak in tongues. we are not silenced. all of us, when in deep trauma, find we hesitate, we stammer; there are long pauses in our speech. the thing is stuck. 

we get our language back through the languages of others. we can turn to the poem. we can open the book. somebody has been there for us and deep-dived the words.” (9)

"a tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is. that is what literature offers - a language powerful enough to say how it is.

it isn’t a hiding place. it is a finding place." (40)

“i had lines inside of me- a string of guiding lights. i had language.

fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. what they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination. i had been damaged and a very important  part of me had been destroyed - that was my reality, the facts of my life; but on the other side of the facts was who i could be, how i could feel, and as long as i had words for that, images for that, stories for that, then i wasn’t lost.” (40) 

“it took me a long time to realise that there are two kinds of writing; the one you write and the one that writes you. the one that writes you is dangerous. you go where you don’t want to go. you look where you don’t want to look.” (54)

“books, for me, are a home. books don’t make a home - they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book, and you go inside. inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space. 

there is warmth there too - a hearth. i sit down with a book and i am warm. i know that from the chilly nights on the doorstep.” (61)

“her suffering was her armour. gradually it became her skin. then she could not take it off. she died without painkillers and in pain.” (69) 

“on the top of the hill looking out over the town i wanted to see further than anybody had seen. that wasn’t arrogance; it was desire. i was all desire, desire for life. 

and i was lonely. 

mrs winterson had succeeded there ; her own loneliness, impossible to breach, had begun to wall us all in.” (105)

also j.w. words, so astutely, my idealistic (& unhealthy) perspective on love: 

“when i walked away that night i was yearning for love and loyalty. the wide yearning of my nature had to funnel through a narrow neck - it went into the idea of “the other”, the almost twin, who would be so near to me but not me. a plato-like split of a complete being. we would find each other one day - and then everything would be all right. 

i had to believe that - how else would i have coped? and yet i was heading for the dangerous losses that “all or nothing” love demands.” (120) 

finding my language through the words of others is why.

a failed revolt

but what am i so afraid of? of peaking? of losing out & missing any prized opportunity that will come my way? why am i so terrified of comparison - no, why am i so afraid of faring poorer than someone - anybody - else, that everything must become a competition, a race that i must eventually emerge victorious, even if the yardstick of victory is relative?

the line is blurring between trying & trying for the sake of it - half the time i don't even know why i am chasing after something when i know full well that prestige may be grandiose but is ultimately poor fuel. or perhaps the line has already been blurred.

also, is passion alone sufficient to survive? this brings up the question that infuriates me: why am i going to spend four years closely examining a specific discipline & spiritually wasting away my hours to satisfy/benefit a corporation in the future which i currently do not even have a clue about??? of course i already know the answer (which makes this a rhetorical question) & also do acknowledge that perhaps this itself is birthed out of self-benefit but i just have to put an aimless lament out here to justify this rising indignation chafing against my chest. how i wish to outwardly protest that "i will not bow down to society's demands !!!" but truth is i am already on all fours in preparation for the revered emperor to make his way through the palace gates.

it has been a week since results day & i feel intimidated by the power of that single slip of paper - or rather the power of knowing the alphabets on that slip of paper. it feels like so much has transformed ever since, & i am almost like a different person now.

give and take

god did not gift me with the miracle that would have left the most apparent mark of his grace i.e. turning my weakest subject into a glorious, arrow-pointing alphabet,

but the rest still remains a testament of his faithfulness.

(i take heart in the fact that i am where he ordains me to be, even if it has hitherto been quite a humbling experience) (maybe learning to live with a blight in perfection, at an absolutely consequential juncture, is the first lesson.) 

-

~ 2am feels but good voices really do get to me ~ (somehow it seemed improper to announce this on a blatant social media platform like twitter so i am at my public refuge once again) (also, a not-so tacit admission that it has always been my little dream to sing tgt with a special someone in the future, & perhaps this is the year to start keeping my eyes peeled) 

remembering faithfulness

a rare, late night solitary worship with songs that had tided me through the arduous 2k14, songs that had reminded me then to look up from my own limited hands. 

it is as if i have been transported back into that specific period of time: bethel tunes softly emanating from the bedside speaker; the dim glow from the lamp illuminating the room & consequently dispelling the shroud of morning darkness; the occasional, solemn declarations against engulfing spasms of fear. they bring me back to the posture of absolute surrender that i have already forgotten - 4.45 am moments reserved for remembering the One who always went (& will always go) ahead of me (before burying myself in dreadful, last-minute memorisation tasks of notes that i had hitherto not even looked through, all the way until breakfast/the ominous journey towards the ish.) 

it is so convenient to forget Your faithfulness, especially when these memories are clouded by the haze of retrospect - but as for tonight/this morning, i will remember still, 

& i will give my thanks. 

all hail jap lit part III

i can hardly contain myself electronically leafing through book despository at nearly 2am in the morning without feeling the urge to add every single jap lit book that i don't own to my cart; maybe it is the night that makes me incredibly sentimental all over again but my heart is crying out with love for this beautiful, almost incorporeal creature which has impressed itself on my heart more than any guy has (ever) done so in probably my life time. (i think its subtlety is like poison that kills me inside slowly)

chanced upon this quote in my infatuation & the effect on myself was like a single spark on kerosene:

"time is what matters. as time goes by, you & i will be carried inexorably into the mainstream of our period, even though we're unaware of what it is. and later, when they say that young men in the early taisho era thought, dressed, talked in such & such a way, they'll be talking about you & me. we'll all be lumped together....in a few decades, people will see you & the people you despise as one & the same, a single entity."

(spring snow, yukio mishima) 

i am still quite awed at how (specifically) jap lit astutely puts into words vague impressions/thoughts/emotions that i have never found fit to express them through my own medium - for fear that they would be misapprehended // that i would owe these ideas their due justice. it is just so incredibly beautiful?? also, just like how p&p of 2k12 was the object of camaraderie between b.j.& i, jap lit is its successor in sealing this bond of divine friendship that has lasted for over ten + years (& in faith, many more to come). in fact, the memory of our recent walk in the park at dusk with spazzkid's truly in our ears makes me feel warm now as much as it had felt surreal then) 

also, since i am at it, this is my company for the night:

IV from emmuree on 8tracks Radio.

on a sidenote: i may look apathetic about my own racial group in contrast but i promise that i am still trying to give it a chance despite the agony that emanates from the clamor of cny songs blaring from hidden speakers. i have been watching disney's mulan during my free time & i can safely say that it is easily my favourite disney movie, partly bc of the chinese element that renders it unorthodox (from other disney movies). however, i must admit that it is more so bc mulan is such a strong, independent woman & is loved for being one, which i think is really important.

p.s: forgive the abrupt change in font (again), i've tried but it turns out blogger & 8tracks are kind of incompatible tgt 

on leaving

final day at a certain place tomorrow:

i have to leave, i have to leave bc i am feeling out of my skin in a place that was supposed to make me most myself. 

it is absurd to feel afraid of becoming myself - in that place, i morph into a docile, quiet wallflower who is cautiously inching through landmines - apprehensive of treading on people's toes. (i also think i accidentally made an enemy literally treading on one lol) i am so tired of blaming myself for the lack of chemistry between another person & myself; perhaps i am unused to having people loathe me for no apparent reason that it becomes almost unbearable now. this inherent clash between upholding christian values & battling demeaning thoughts packed away in the deep recesses of my head makes me feel so spent after every work day (which is also compounded by the physical lethargy from working long shifts). maybe i am just a mess when i have to deal with unreasonable human interactions - i believe that i am well-equipped to take constructive criticism rather stoically, but irrational ostracism??? not really??

but working here has made one specific thing unequivocal: as much as i dislike moving & change in general, stagnation - its antithetical counterpart, is a greater enemy. i'd always thought that this was only figurative, but it turns out that it is literal as well. i feel like time crawls when i spend every second stationary. it is actually quite amazing that time actually does passes by, bc in retrospect i cannot fathom how harsh it must have been to be trapped in something so relentless as the continuity of (seeming) stasis. 

most of the time, i will myself away, or feel like a part of me is evaporating, effacing into those shelves that surround me. being in that place with almost apathetic people (though there are also people who make me feel like i am myself again - like rlly nice seniors // comrades in almost similar predicaments - though i feel like i am bearing the brunt of all that hostility // h.r // the friendly store director who rmbed i was reading murakami's kafka in the pantry a few days before & casually enquired abt my progress during working hrs a few days after - he even offered to spoil the ending for me lol) makes me feel like my core is being sublimed until all that is left is a physical shell which smiles at (some specific) people who will (always) conveniently stare through me. (sudden epiphany that the people who are cold to me are all those who are in the same position as me but more experienced - now this makes more sense - but seriously, are they afraid that i will steal their ricebowl from them as a temp staff???) (& i always ask myself why do i even try // what the heck is wrong with you people?! manners before seniority?! // *in miranda sing's accent* HATERS BACK OFF !!!  - but it's alright bc i will not be obligated to do things against my will from tmrw night onwards !! heck yes !!!)

i am also slightly angry that this place, which had once been my source of magic, is now ironically the very perpetrator for robbing me of my confidence, but this too shall pass.

so you ask me why i have to leave so soon??? 

p.s excuse the abrupt change in font; will fix that probably tmrw or some other day bc blogger mobile is awfully inconvenient - also need my beauty sleep to be fully armored to deal with people tmrw 

//edit//

i am done with this trepidation & god bless doubly the souls who wished me luck/made my last more favourably memorable  

conserve // preserve // observe

i have so many misplaced emotions pent up in my chest but i just cannot find the right words tonight to string coherent sentences without inadvertently conjuring an impression of myself as a spoilt child who is disillusioned with the world - a child who has yet to put her second foot forth but is already whining about how tough this journey has been. 

(she has dirtied her brand new, sparkling white sneakers when her foot first struck damp earth, subsequently -haplessly- landing in a muddy puddle) 

(perhaps that is just what i am; still a child) 

nevertheless, i will preserve my self-worth, even if it is all that i have left. 

!!! no one can make me feel irrelevant without my consent !!!

ayinukonik: thoughts & feelings

what i have deduced from approximately five days of work thus far:

the bad: 

(i shall start with the bad so that the worth of what's good will be amplified & leave a sweet aftertaste)

i feel poisoned, back at square one with the discrepancy between ideals and whatever that's set before me. this is not working out to be even half the glory of what i'd envisaged and so carefully mapped out in my head.

(a) for one, i feel absolutely hideous in the uniform. most of the time when  (my new friend e, if i am lucky) & i am "uncaged" for our one hour & fifteen minutes respite aka lunch/dinner break, i find myself lowering my head while striding through the crowds - praying that no one will spot me and recognise me from afar, esp if they are not friends but mere acquaintances. i do not need the uniform to fortify the dreary feeling of looking like a midget. as i'd told s & j before, confidence level in uniform has hit an all-time low of negative 20%, thank you v much ______.

(b) feeling (pretty) small in the same physical place which had used to make me feel so invincible & intellectually empowered. i think that the acuteness of this tenable feeling (tenable bc this is what being a solitary newbie at a foreign workplace feels like) will & is slowly thawing off with every working day, but it nevertheless still feels like crap to be fearful of a place which had once brought me so much solace. getting lost then felt like the confluence of wanderlust & camaraderie (with the physical space), but getting lost now (both literally & figuratively) just makes me wanna crawl up into a ball & hide myself from disapproving eyes.

(something visceral tells me that working at a favourite place merely kills its former charm bc you realise that the image projected is called a projection for a reason - but it is too late & i have got to make the best out of it.)

(c) feeling invisible (or wishing that i were invisible, just like "kenji the ghost" - i think he is my new fictional idol in this juncture of my life) for most of the time in the staff pantry. people's happiness is just too loud. the effusive & vociferous laughter which are not mine just makes me want to will myself away bc they make me feel so lonely. (not that i feel close enough to want to join them, or am hankering after their friendship, esp with the inherent old-new staff divide. having said this, i am not taking pity on myself bc self-pity is something i loathe; read on before you jump to conclusions please)


(d) basically i am just disillusioned in general. the charm of the physical place has not altered, but it is knowing the people who run this physical space & seeing through their habits which ruin its incantation-like value. this is a place which sells probably the largest no. of books in the country but it seems like only a small handful of people care about reading. perhaps i am being too harsh & applying the same standards i have on others (which is wrong, i know) but something in me just cannot live well with that. even so, i just want to put a disclaimer out there that the people are not so bad as my words have framed the general impression of them. even within the experienced staff, there is kindness & occasional beauty - that feeling of affirmation or warmth from knowing that they are trying to put me at ease. this makes the bad more forgiving, i guess.

the good:

(a)(i)  feeling absolutely ugly in the uniform with a confidence level hitting negative 20% also means that i feel almost like cinderella spinning into her dazzling blue ball gown (with pixie dust encircling her) whenever i change into own comfortable clothes, & subsequently feel more like me again. working at _____ has shelled my confidence level considerably, but it always comes back in stronger waves whenever labour time expires & time becomes mine again.

(b)(i) while exposure to the behind-the-scenes has nearly killed the allure of this bookstore (what i absolutely love about ______ is the authentic & unconventional japanese feel that it emanates, which runs concurrent with my increasing enchantment with japanese literature), it has also simultaneously made up for that emaciated favourable impression by opening my eyes to the serenity of its closure. getting to see the shutters come down, signalling its closure & still be able to walk within its grounds with hardly a soul in sight is one of the most enthralling feelings ever. this is what i mean by a solitary expedition; this is my favourite version of losing myself, even if it is for a short moment.

(c)(i) learning how to be invincible while invisible is a pretty damn good feeling. choosing solitude by deliberate choice has always made me feel indefeasible, ever since jc days. shoving in my earphones with my favourite soundcloud beats while reading a jap lit novel in the middle of a crowded pantry & subsequently finding myself transported into another realm with its storyline is my way of feeling self-assured again. no one can make me feel irrelevant !!!! no one can relegate me to the peripheries without my consent !!! (i may look pitiful, even pathetic, to the crowd but i am damn sure that i am not & that is what matters.) of course, this only happens when my newbie comrades are not around aka different breaktimes/shifts/workdays.

(d)(i) also, my newbie comrades are really lovely people, even if i don't know them well enough yet. this makes me vow to myself to treat newbies right & well when i get a little more experienced in the future (provided i don't quit lol). i think that there are many learning points from the bad too. the bad makes me remember who is or have been good to me, so that i can reciprocate my goodwill next time when i become a customer again.

(ii) long & tiring working hours just compel me to treasure my off-days & after-working hours fiercely, which is something that i haven't done since a level days. after weeks of floating around feeling like an aimless bum with no prospects, i need to appreciate the fact that there is finally some structure now; afterall, there is good in structure too (even though it may not be what i'd imagined it to be; also i believe that God has placed me here for a reason - my original reason was & is to learn more about the retailing aspect of the publishing industry, but i am still quite certain that He has other plans for me to grow me here too - afterall this job is a result of nearly three weeks of almost idle waiting & fervent prayers for His favour. maybe learning to love is one? it is so hard to suppress the rising feeling of indignance at mistreatment // feeling exploited // feeling like someone is not worthy of assuming a haughty presence in front of me & making me feel small just bc of seniority - most of the time i cannot help but find myself thinking that if their physical outlook fails to add value to their overall appeal, then they should all the more use good character to compensate for what they cannot help, which is a really bad thought. yes, maybe learning to love is why i am here.)


(on a completely irrelevant note: if i am definitely not a feminist bc i believe that there are indeed some things that males can do better than their female counterparts e.g physical fitness, for one; yet i still strongly believe in the inherent worth of being a female - which entails feeling empowered, strong, individualistic etc, & also get angered by insensitive comments of males thinking that it is their prerogative to have females serve their needs...what am i really?? a 21st century New Woman ???)

all hail jap lit (part ii; a hasty post)

life seems to be pretty sad if i am awake at 2am (almost) fangirling about a book that i am not even one-third through, especially if the novel centers around a morbid topic like death (& it seems to be more tragic that there is no one up to ride on my excitement with me so i feel like all this pent-up exhilaration is craving for an outlet, almost like magma chafing at the seams of the magma chamber, ready to burst but not quite yet) 

& perhaps something is wrong with me bc why am i getting so excited about an idea so lifeless & simultaneously distant as aforementioned? but this book is opening my eyes to things that i have been staring at for so long that i cease to see them (e.g. i was humming & singing to myself counting stars bc it had been ringing in my head all day thanks to external influences, & then when i was combing my hair in the mirror & voicing out "everything that kills me makes me feel alive" - such an innocuous expression in context of the song, i froze & my blood ran cold bc it framed, in a few words, the entire gist of what i had hitherto read) 

so, on the contrary, i think that life is gr8 now that i am finally reading books that i actually want to read, bc "now is the time to read books that (i) have not been assigned" - a.p. (& a loud amen to that) 

also i feel like our (the protagonist's & my) minds are congruent - even though she is fictional and a fragment of ozeki's imagination. how is it possible that we have such startlingly similar thoughts about the notion of time; i almost screamed when my eyes glossed over words that are so familiar but aren't even mine. (i think this epitomises the joy of reading) 

on a sidenote: i think that i need to stand my ground - i can feel myself being shaped by admirable influences around me that i am changing to become a replica of someone else, which is quite unacceptable. 

all hail japanese literature

i've just finished reading another jap lit novel; at first i was pretty hesitant to pick it up from my shelf bc it looked so imposing with its thickness but i am so glad i did (even though i kinda ambled through it). i've come to realise that the good thing about lengthy books is the slow growth of a sense of deep attachment - even to the point of developing a relationship with the characters, albeit one-sided (since they are afterall fictional, irrespective of how real they may seem).

anyway, it seemed unworthy to let such a good read pass without comment, so here i am - re: thoughts about (the sparse but growing) japanese literature books that i have hitherto read.

i am definitely not a fan of the otaku culture in japan (i think anyone who knows me well enough can vouch for that), but there is something about japanese literature that is wholly different from its modern counterpart; it possesses a unique quality that enthralls me & supersedes all other forms of literature in my heart i.e. american & british lit.

it has the inherent propensity to tug at my heartstrings with all its subtleties, with its gentleness that has the quality resembling something like a maternal figure; yet it simultaneously lures me with its darkness not unlike that of the bottom of the ocean - what i imagine to be a lonely & cold pit, beckoning with slimy hands of death - or a rope. (for people who worry about my state of mind after reading this: i am emotionally stable & doing v well, thank you for your unduly concern)

jap lit appears to be plath without the feverish madness (that can come across as too loud & aggressive) - the elements of an acute depression masked by a matching facade of serenity. it is like the calm before the storm, the only difference being the dearth of a storm in the first place. perhaps i over-generalise but i always get the feeling that there is hardly any strife (at least not outwardly) when the characters are dealing with grief. instead, there is merely resignation, a placid acceptance resembling that of a cancer patient who has gone past the stage of fearing death; a relent to the ghosts of the past to take him/her with them.

above the bouts of suicidal tendencies that seem to come as second-nature to the characters (which greatly intrigues me that it is more of a culture than a segregated, individual response), jap lit reveals to me the beauty of tradition - something that is so easy to scoff at bc it is admittedly rather passe. perhaps i am only able to say this from a distance bc i still find some of the traditions of my own racial group quite...pointless, but tradition placed in the context of the plot (usually in the backdrop of war-torn japan) immediately raises its standing in my heart. jap lit reveals to me the beauty of a past that is filled with so much pain & futile suffering, especially in light of the sufferings of the war. it shows me the human side of the occupation from the aggressor's own perspective, which is so rare bc we have only been taught of the atrocities from the victims' point of view in schools (since propaganda is named propaganda for a reason). it makes me realise how even most of the japanese people were merely victims of loyalty (some even forced), & how even the worst crooks (the masterminds) were also merely victims of their perceived infallibility.

it makes me realise how we are all victims of something that gnaws at our weakest - even the seemingly invincible characters are not spared.

"we're stepping into a new world, and an entire way of thinking must be changed. but the old ideas can't be easily discarded. like a pendulum, new ways must swing to the other side before returning." (the street of a thousand blossoms - gail tsukiyama) 

also, my favourite quote that has anchored me for at least the past three years is by a famous japanese author:

"if you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking." (norwegian wood - haruki murakami) 

coincidence? i think not.

i wear black on the outside, bc black is how i feel like on the inside

i vacillate:

between believing that God

can ever be so good to me -

most of the time

i  feel like the kid on

christmas day

who woke up to a 

dearth

of presents, amidst

vociferous, convival jubilee

& the sound of papers being shred,

uncovering coveted treasures -

fervent prayers answered.

& believing that God 

can only be good to me; 

in my selfish heart,

i forbid him to shower 

gifts on others, at

my 

expense, as if 

i provided for them 

myself, 

as if

my ways usurp his right 

on the throne. 

how human,

how carnal,

how wrong &

how helpless,

to be a captive 

of such 

miscreance. 

(sometimes i am just so afraid that my ambitions will not have a place nor patience for me - i am so afraid of being left behind bc such solitude is more of negligence than self-merit) 

life has already begun

i am so excited for life to begin that i have completely overlooked how here & now is life.

this is a reminder to self that life is not a specific event - life does not begin after 2nd/3rd/4th march (the tentativeness of the sacred date itself just makes everything more unsettled) 2k15, where i will finally get to consolidate the flotsam in my head (i feel alittle like the rescue crew of my own scattered ship: oh, here's a piece titled "uncertainty" floating towards me // hey i've found "dream" // oh there you are "opportunity", i've been looking out for you for so long i'd thought you would never come.) life is here and now, in this breathing moment, even if it's nearly 12 a.m. and the world is probably preparing to turn in. life is here and now, and in a second - there, "now" has been here and it is gone.

i'd started 2k14 with the resolution to stop existing and start living - pointing fingers at the giant letter A for the lifelessness i had felt. today, i've realised that it has never been its fault, because i am back at square one a year later, treading on the same spot. the fault has always been with me - they say when you point fingers at someone, there will always be four fingers pointing back at you. they are right. i am too passive for my own good. i take in things, but i hardly engage - instead, i wait, remember to pinch myself awake, then inadvertently fall back into slumber again. wake up denise!! how many hours do you have to sleep away before you realise that your youth will not last forever??? (& youth is undeniably my/our greatest asset)

now is the time for a personal reconnaissance-like expedition: to find out what i really like, what boundaries are within reach, to locate my greatest enemy and exterminate it while i can. now is indeed the time to read books that have never been assigned in class before, to watch the movies - senseless, educational, even trashy ones that i never ever had the time to do so in my years of existence. even so,  i think i read far too slowly that i chafe at my own reading speed (& am ashamed of updating my goodreads hahaha). i wish to ruminate on every word  my eyes come into contact with that i probably end up losing the whole gist of the story.

anyway, at the very least, i have found out that i prefer fulfillment to idleness, and by extension, change to stagnation. empty hours spent wasting away refreshing social media may be novel for a change, but that grace period has already expired. i was getting so exasperated with myself for doing absolutely nothing at the beginning of this week that i knew i had to job-hunt immediately after my long chat with a.p (which was absolutely lovely btw; i think above all the valuable advice i'd received from the veteran - which just completely redirected my lofty & poorly thought-out paths in mind, i've gained a friend, which is definitely more worthy than any one-off event.) even in the interim period where either times or kino have yet to call, i feel much happier (compared to slothing at home) working at c's family cafe with j & c herself, even if it's just for three hours during the madness titled "office lunch hour". ironically, this sense of fulfillment more than makes up for all the crappiness that had made me promise myself  never to step into the f&b industry again three years ago. i think even the bad that was in pp's now clouded with (at the very least) humor in retrospect. i guess even crappy work has its merits - they open my eyes to things that make experiences in school seem like an extremely watered down version - hypocrisy for one, is a recurrent theme. also, i've learnt to become an observer rather than merely a worker at a temporary job - it makes a huge difference to know that i am bigger than an existing circumstance, and it is a powerful epiphany that makes me less dreadful of yet another day of dreary work life. (having said that, i hope something more permanent will come soon - life now still feels rather temporary)

"happy" 2k15

spent new year's eve at the airport & ushered in 2k15 on the airplane; it was absolutely lovely trying not to think ill of turbulence on the plane (especially with the extremely recent air disaster)  & trusting in the Almighty's arms to hold it up in the skies (irrational i know, but uncertainty is as real as it is irrational). [funny how i welcomed the new year with a sense of foreboding from a literal event that aptly mirrors the figurative]

2k14 has been a sentimental year - strangely the bad actually clouds the laboured year with fondness, especially in retrospect. i feel like we/i've laboured too hard last year & december came by too quickly. it's gone now and i feel like i've used up my grace period bc now i have to be more responsible for myself than i would have ever liked. (i only ever wanted independence of thought, not independence from being -completely- materially/physically cared for)

anyway, spent countdown journaling at the airport bc i just had to let something (?? idek what this was) out:

we've worked too hard,
slogged our guts worth
for the coveted slip of gold -
our entrance ticket
to yet another rat race.

fourteen minutes
to the end
of another beginning.
i am ambivalent -
a mere matter of minutes before
we land at the foot
of another arduous cliff.

time - an incorporeal being;
slipping like sand
yet
so intangible, its worth
lies in recognition.

i wish
i could choose negation;
but i cannot afford
being
left behind.

"welcome to singapore, the time now is 5:36 a.m, 1st january 2015"