The semester is coming to an end. Sometimes I find it hard to grasp the concept of time (so what if another semester is over?). Let me see it based on milestones:
More than three years since I first entered university.
Nearly two years since Mizzou.
Nearly half a year since internship.
Around four months since Vietnam.
Two weeks away to the final exams of the semester.
Three weeks away to FYP trip to Japan.
One semester and then some away from graduation.
A speck of dust in forever.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
All this is a smudge of excrement surging to sea
I know this blog is teethering into non-existence. Well if you have missed updates about my life in the past four weeks or so, not to worry, I have culled out three major trends so far:
1. I'm generally feeling unsettled by having to graduate next year and make choices. I know being able to make choices is a privilege, but it doesn't remove the niggling realisation that I'm an adult now (I don't qualify for Sakae Sushi youth buffet anymore!). Let me tell you that while networking events can be fun, they are kind of tiring too because you have to be on the lookout for yourself all the time: which person should I talk to now to improve my job prospects? At networking events you categorise people into "important" and "not so important" people, some of whom may hold the key to unlocking doors for you, and people don't feel "real" to you because they're always trying to give the best first impression. That's not a very nice way of looking at people, but that's the reality of adulthood. Thinking ahead, making choices.
2. FYP is moving, but there are a million loose strings that have to be found and tied.
3. I've been reading as many books, watching as many movies, going to as many concerts, as possible. Every week I watch 2-3 movies at the School of Art Design & Media Library. Rachel Getting Married (great dialogue), 2 Days in Paris (really funny), The Graduate (didn't make sense), etc.
1. I'm generally feeling unsettled by having to graduate next year and make choices. I know being able to make choices is a privilege, but it doesn't remove the niggling realisation that I'm an adult now (I don't qualify for Sakae Sushi youth buffet anymore!). Let me tell you that while networking events can be fun, they are kind of tiring too because you have to be on the lookout for yourself all the time: which person should I talk to now to improve my job prospects? At networking events you categorise people into "important" and "not so important" people, some of whom may hold the key to unlocking doors for you, and people don't feel "real" to you because they're always trying to give the best first impression. That's not a very nice way of looking at people, but that's the reality of adulthood. Thinking ahead, making choices.
2. FYP is moving, but there are a million loose strings that have to be found and tied.
3. I've been reading as many books, watching as many movies, going to as many concerts, as possible. Every week I watch 2-3 movies at the School of Art Design & Media Library. Rachel Getting Married (great dialogue), 2 Days in Paris (really funny), The Graduate (didn't make sense), etc.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Woe is lack of sleep
Schoolwork is such banality nowadays. I'm taking four modules on top of my Final Year Project, two of which are huge warts perching on my butt. FYP is moving rather slowly, whereas every one around me seems to be zooming ahead like Speedy Gonzales running on nitro fuel. We're planning to write a regional feature story, so obviously it'll be good if we can get sponsorship to travel around the region. This is the time of the year when students turn into beggars, knocking on the doors of organisations/corporations/foundations with a bowl in hand. Right now we're adopting the 'spray and pray' strategy, which I've used quite a few times in the past. Email 20 organisations, I don't care, just get them all out and wait for replies.
I've been having sleep problems for unknown reasons. I'm not that stressed, I'm not lovesick, I don't have a history of insomnia at all. It's screwing up with pretty much a lot of things, because how the hell do you do things at an optimum level without proper sleep at night? Reminds me of Christian Bale's The Machinist, who hasn't slept for two years. Pray I'm not going to turn out like that.
I've been having sleep problems for unknown reasons. I'm not that stressed, I'm not lovesick, I don't have a history of insomnia at all. It's screwing up with pretty much a lot of things, because how the hell do you do things at an optimum level without proper sleep at night? Reminds me of Christian Bale's The Machinist, who hasn't slept for two years. Pray I'm not going to turn out like that.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
What's the worst that can happen?
They'll think you're a bozo and ask you to f off.
You'll feel crushed for a while, but then you wake up every morning and realise the sun still rises every single morning.
So you move on.
You'll feel crushed for a while, but then you wake up every morning and realise the sun still rises every single morning.
So you move on.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Les Adieux
I turned 22 yesterday, but it felt like a non-event. I guess after you hit 21 birthdays are not that big a deal anymore. Anyway the books I got are enough to last me till a few months later. Enough to keep me busy during my long train rides to Pulau NTU. Thanks, book fairies.
Been listening to Rudolf Serkin's rendition of Beethoven's Sonata no. 31 on a loop. Wonderful stuff. It's hard to find good music nowadays, and the kind of music they play on the radio are like ear-drills. I do prefer the 90's and classical to rap, hip-hop and metal. As my ex-colleague said, I'm a young fogey.
I didn't know that quite a few people read Elmer. My secondary school friends whom I haven't met for years wished me happy birthday on Facebook, adding that they like my Elmer stories. It's always nice to know someone likes your work. No man is an island after all. Those artists who say they do art for art's sake? They're lying. On a side note I'm stuck on part one of Elmer on Island of Geometry. No inspiration nor mood to write ever since.
All I want to do right now is fly somewhere, any place new. And do that for possibly a hundred more times, till I get sick of everything. Life's not bad, but I'm always wanting more.
Time Magazine had an article about these services that charge to disseminate your online legacy to your loved ones after you're dead. Meaning that they're the custodians of your blog entries, passwords to embarrassing websites, a thousand and one things about your life that have made their way to the World Wide Web. And when you finally croak, they'll give them to your family members who need some sort of a closure, or who want to know more about you. Would I let my loved ones read my "unspeakable secrets" after I'm gone from this earth? The reason why they're unspeakable to begin with is because they could hurt people, no? What for hurt people even after you're dead?
Been listening to Rudolf Serkin's rendition of Beethoven's Sonata no. 31 on a loop. Wonderful stuff. It's hard to find good music nowadays, and the kind of music they play on the radio are like ear-drills. I do prefer the 90's and classical to rap, hip-hop and metal. As my ex-colleague said, I'm a young fogey.
I didn't know that quite a few people read Elmer. My secondary school friends whom I haven't met for years wished me happy birthday on Facebook, adding that they like my Elmer stories. It's always nice to know someone likes your work. No man is an island after all. Those artists who say they do art for art's sake? They're lying. On a side note I'm stuck on part one of Elmer on Island of Geometry. No inspiration nor mood to write ever since.
All I want to do right now is fly somewhere, any place new. And do that for possibly a hundred more times, till I get sick of everything. Life's not bad, but I'm always wanting more.
Time Magazine had an article about these services that charge to disseminate your online legacy to your loved ones after you're dead. Meaning that they're the custodians of your blog entries, passwords to embarrassing websites, a thousand and one things about your life that have made their way to the World Wide Web. And when you finally croak, they'll give them to your family members who need some sort of a closure, or who want to know more about you. Would I let my loved ones read my "unspeakable secrets" after I'm gone from this earth? The reason why they're unspeakable to begin with is because they could hurt people, no? What for hurt people even after you're dead?
Monday, August 17, 2009
"I sat between the humps of a camel in Dubai"
Scriptwriting elective today was like going through a brain lobotomy. Mind-numbingly boring and excruciatingly uninspiring. I was thinking of just writing Elmer the Movie, but I think my lecturer is not into stories about talking elephants.
Been bringing Scott around Singapore - Reuters BBQ at my ex-colleague's house, Arab Street, Little India, Chinatown, Esplanade, Orchard, Clarke Quay. My readings are piling up, so to salvage my conscience today I read one chapter of them. The guilt still pricks me though.
Met a friend who's working for a pretty decent company. She likes her job but not the working hours and the seeming inescapability of it all. As she said, when she was having an internship she could see the finish line, but once she's in the company for good, it's like she can't see an end to it. Truth be told, I'm terrified of graduating, of having my job define me, of having my worth as a person measured by dollars and cents. I don't want to grow old at times.
Need to get cracking on FYP. Everything seems so preliminary at this point in time. One step at a time, I guess.
Been bringing Scott around Singapore - Reuters BBQ at my ex-colleague's house, Arab Street, Little India, Chinatown, Esplanade, Orchard, Clarke Quay. My readings are piling up, so to salvage my conscience today I read one chapter of them. The guilt still pricks me though.
Met a friend who's working for a pretty decent company. She likes her job but not the working hours and the seeming inescapability of it all. As she said, when she was having an internship she could see the finish line, but once she's in the company for good, it's like she can't see an end to it. Truth be told, I'm terrified of graduating, of having my job define me, of having my worth as a person measured by dollars and cents. I don't want to grow old at times.
Need to get cracking on FYP. Everything seems so preliminary at this point in time. One step at a time, I guess.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Butterfly thoughts
My internet connection in Indonesia is a bane to my existence. I was close to putting my fist through the desktop screen after continually staring at a loading bar that loads at a rate of one bar per minute. I've exhausted my expletive library, so I won't even try.
Sometimes it's easier to be a stranger in a foreign land than to come back to a homeland that feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. Sometimes meeting people who knew you when you were a kid can be such a social minefield. And the barrage of questions, my God, they were like having your teeth drilled.
Some things are better kept offline. Why on earth would people want to broadcast their unrequited love to about 500 friends, and possibly a million second and third degree whoever? It reeks of desperation, narcissism and a chronic need for electronic peer support. And if I wanted to know your mundane daily activities by the minute I'd have signed up to be your stalker.
The quality of Indonesian sinetrons has fallen off the cliff in the last few years. Too many pretty faces that have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Too many profit-worshipping production houses that churn out sub-standard fare like an assembly line.
Too many pretentious people out there who can't write for nuts.
Sometimes it's easier to be a stranger in a foreign land than to come back to a homeland that feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. Sometimes meeting people who knew you when you were a kid can be such a social minefield. And the barrage of questions, my God, they were like having your teeth drilled.
Some things are better kept offline. Why on earth would people want to broadcast their unrequited love to about 500 friends, and possibly a million second and third degree whoever? It reeks of desperation, narcissism and a chronic need for electronic peer support. And if I wanted to know your mundane daily activities by the minute I'd have signed up to be your stalker.
The quality of Indonesian sinetrons has fallen off the cliff in the last few years. Too many pretty faces that have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Too many profit-worshipping production houses that churn out sub-standard fare like an assembly line.
Too many pretentious people out there who can't write for nuts.
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