And everytime i take a breather from the chaos of it all (or perhaps if only from that within my mind) ---- something just seems to be missing. Like as if life should be just *that* bit more than just the daily laughter and monthly achievements ; more than just the (new) frenships u establish day after day without a seeming good reaosn. Intuitively.
Its like a completed jigsaw with still a missing piece (pieces?) --- a seeming incompleteness that eludes scrutiny and observation ---- nowheere to be seen nor heard nor touched ; but felt.

I can tell u when this blog was set up, but i seriously cant tell u when i started picked up writing. Bearing the first many entries laced with nothing but corn and superficiality out of account ---- its quite a wonder since when i started truly saying the things which i meant, though i still havent quite gotten down to meaning the things which ive said. I know i dun quite make sense often, but red herrings aside, it's probably cos of my stubbornness and refusal to refine my posts for legibility. Because i wanted to retain the original, if crude, way things always used to be ; and because even if it were comprehendable to none else but only me : then so be it that i'd be the only one looking back 10 yrs down understanding the same thoughts 10 yrs back ; feeling the same emotions a decade ago.
And sometimes i wonder if readers find meaning to the words authors chose ; or if they truly did tag those same meanings to the words they used.

Perhaps in this world of ever-change everyone seeks to find a cornerstone of Permanance they could call their own. Many sought refuge in the ability to predict and mould the future, while others seek thrill in the gift of the present. For someone like me who always complains bout the overvalue of Choreography in Life and the Surreality of the Present ---- i guess i have no choice but to look back into the past. To replay ; relive and rememeber things that can never change and events that can never be undone ----- despite regret ; despite reminiscence ; despite all else but the contentment and understanding that life had been good.

And i do. Do succumb to the bitterness of reminiscence and regret of the things ive once done, but more often the things i never did. To relive and relive the bits of pieces again in a sacchrine form of helplessness, for nothing but to rememebr the costly lessons ive acquired, and perhaps the slit of hope that with enuff scrutinity i could find a (positive) meaning for that which had transpired (but poerhaps never the meaning it had occured for).

Honesty goes a long way ---- even longer for the CPL whos had several outright complaints of hypocrisy in camp. And with the observation that none of the complainees had been JC guys came the realisation that perhaps, just perhaps, that was one of the underlying consequence of the real reason what i once hated RJ for ------ the hypocrisy ; the guts ; the ability to paint a nice superficiality out of anything and the inability to transpose this niceness into anywhere else. We were once 16/17-yr olds trying to fit into 19's shoes ; and now we're 20 trying desperately to get our 16's back. Perhaps eventually this blog was where i took the first step towards blatant honesty and finding myself still within the tenets of a JC Being --- or perhaps its just a weak excuse for the works of a boy who developed a liking for writing out of nowhere.

The most alarming discovery of all into NS was never how society really functioned or how office politics really worked or how unfair the world really is ----- ive known all those already. It was actually the very simple fact that 2 yrs of bitching and resoluting and unhappiness and ive actually ended up embracing the hypocrisy i once scoffed ---- attributing the dislike of blatant honesty to boredom and a lack of depth. Ive never quite said thats untrue either ----- its just that : what to say and who to tell ---------- the pivot between white lies and blatant truth may be a tethering balance i fear i may never be able to achieve.

Im still waiting. But somehow no more of that torturous wait a jailbird goes thru. Instead a tentative one ; a Wait juxtaposed by the numerous commitments ive consciously endowed upon myself, not only to shorten the seeming passage of Time but also to accomplish the tasks ive always set out to since young --- or those i have not set out for before at all.
And theres a very thin line between self-deceit and self-confidence. Perhaps if u'd ask me now i wouldnt know either if ive found the right path, or merely encompassing the tumult of Regret ; Bittersweetness of Reminiscence and Helplessness of the things that Have Happened and Cannot Happen with a thick blanket of nonchalence that helps smother things to a comfortable ignorance.

And yes, i do believe that things Dissolve if kept within for a long enuff period of time.

Its just that, i believe too, that it will crystallize again someday.

Pple tend to mature in uni, dun they? Its like ure stuck in some crossroads in ur life seeing half of the pple u once knew going on with life hectic life and finding themselves and growing up while we're inevitably still stuck in our own little surreal corner of nights outs and warrant officers and sustained democratic socialism. Its like we have so much time to think ; to do, yet seemingly so little to accomplish and so little that can be answered ----- as opposed to how the others dun even have time to think but gets pelted with whole barrages of solutions : i dun quite know which is better after all.

Im sure there's always some point in our lives when we wished we could freeze ----- to capture them as more than mere moments of the past or the intangible surreality of memories ---- and before we know it, everyone we wanted to stay behind had moved on once again. And as much as our efforts go to stall them back ---- we'll start to realise how sometimes the road ahead is not to be chosen and how the road taken is not to be lingered. And when we look once more we find ourselves somewhere in between ---- no far ahead enuff to be considered to have moved on; yet not far behind enuff to be considered dwelling. Just an ethereal haze of grayness ---- a temporal mist just waiting to be cleared before we seek our bearings once again.

And looking at how the uni pple have grown ----- how they've finally learnt to let go of the pettyness in life and said how they've finally managed to look past the imperfections in stuff and take things in stride and not harkle over the ideally unrealistic things in life anymore ---------- that scares me.
Scared, because i dun wana become liddat one day. Dun wanna disbelieve that life is more than just being down to earth and looking at only ur immediate surroundings. That our feet should always be planted firmly on the ground ; but our gaze should always be fixed high up on the stars. That one day i'll cease to weep for my losses ---- for that'd mean i wouldnt laugh at my gains too anymore.

And everytime i hear someone saying something i'd never thought they'd say or do something i once thought they abhorred ----- all i wanna do is to shake them violently and tell them how it used to be. Only to remember that they probably knew better than me.

But i think i still will. Still will smile when a frenship presents itself ; still will blog bout the same depressing stuff ; still will write in that nothing-good-has-ever-come-out-of-my-life depressingly exaggeratingly twirly manner ; still will weep when it finally strikes me someday that I've lost a fren or two. to Time.

And just as life isnt simply an exaggerated piece of choreography ---- so do i have to learn, too, that we shouldnt look back for a reason. A very good one. For memories are memories are memories are memories.

And then it goes : whether Memories are made by us, or we are made by our Memories.

Sometimes it just seems that u have no choice but to feel powerless against the ensuing rush of changes that hit you ; that uve finally gotten so used to letting go of things without putting up a fight (anymore) that u'll think back one day and realise u couldnt find any point in committing urself to those silly things anymore ; that there just seems to be this helpless inability to hate with a passion and love with a vengeance ; to live life with the recklessness and spontaniety which defines.

Hell i dont even have a hand in where i work.

I'm happy. And that aint superficiality either. Its just that.... it just feels too surreal. Like how you'd feel when you wake up someday and find urself in a paradise of sorts ----- a place too good to be true ; but a place ure in right then nonetheless. And even though u know deep down somehow that sooner or later u'd wake up with drool in ur pillow (eek), U'd still savour the moment for what it is. A surreal one.

I wake up everyday finding a reason to feel, and yet the closest one i can think of is 1 and a half yrs away. Its just weird how after a seeming enternity i could finally take in stride the things i once thought was impossible to ; how im actually liking the things i thought i'd hate and hating the things i thoguht i'd like. And questioning it all at the same time.

Pple always say that we start to die the minute we're born. I agree.
I just hoped i didnt have to agree in more ways than one.