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Category: Baby Qing

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Action & Consequence. I spun round & round & round the chair. It was fun. It didn’t give me the chance to think of anything else, much as I want to. Which is great. Round & Round & Round, such great, great fun. Everything inside you getting spun round and round and round like in a washing machine. All mixed up.

When you stop. Every single thing churning about in you halts. And you feel like throwing up. I don’t know, it’s just the most horrid feeling in the world, I hate it. I really do. Action & Consequence. If I want to do something I want to do, I have to bear the consequences. I want to spin on my chair, I love spinning. I need to get the sick sensation of barfing.

Sleeping – is pure bliss. Honestly, just pure bliss. It’s just so sick how when you sleep, doing the most enjoyable thing in the whole wide world, your brain has to shut down. We can’t even get to experience the most pleasurable thing on Earth when we are doing it. But shutting your brain down when you’re sleeping is part of what makes it so great, isn’t it?

The world can never be fair this way. No, wait. The world isn’t meant to be fair.

Hello. I don’t really blog for an audience now. I just do random ranting. They make sense to me, at least. Maybe one day I’ll come back, reread my posts, and come up with an answer to all my questions. Questions – I love them, they’re the best thing on Earth, next to sleeping. Just that you cannot ever enjoy sleeping. It takes time to get answers for your questions, but at least you get them eventually.

Back to the topic, I don’t blog for an audience. I blog for myself, for what I have to say. I mean, when I don’t have time (like I used to) to sit by myself and just think. Think about things no one bothers to know and stuff, I will just blog. And they spill. Just that. I don’t exactly blog them all. Yes, yes. Yes.

April 4, 2007
Psychology.

I think it all started when I was eight or nine. When I stood next to this huge wide road one evening, (and I remember) looking at the huge bright-lit MacDonald’s sign. I was alone, and you know how your thoughts tend to wander when you are alone?

I started asking myself. Why am I here? As in, why am I in this world? Why is anybirdy in this world, why is this world even existing? Why couldn’t there be just a blank patch of nothingness? No galaxy, no stars, no people. Bam, nothing. Like before the Big bang. No, better, there should BE no Big Bang. Nothingness.

Then I started questioning the meaning of life. I know, I was only nine, and I got quite a shock myself. There IS no meaning to life. There is no goal in life. Okay, if your goal is to get into a good University. SO? So you can get a good job, get a high paying salary. SO? So that you can buy mercedes & mansions and enjoy life? SO? SO WHAT? It makes you happy?

SO, SO WHAT IF YOU ARE HAPPY? WHAT DO WE HAVE TO GAIN IN THE END? And even if we do gain something, does it really matter? There’s happiness, there’s suffering too. If we do not even exist, as in NOTHINGNESS, then there need not BE happiness, or sadness, or anything at all. And we can all live without happiness, can’t we? Oh wait, we won’t even be living. SO WHAT IS THE FREAKING POINT?

Why can’t we all just don’t exist? I’m not emo, or being morbid today, kbish? I’ve been riding on this topic for super long, to myself of course, no one seems to agree. But I feel strongly about it. It’s not even making me upset. I mean, I’m not upset about us living, of course. It’s just, I’m confused. Live for what? Everyone one living SO WHAT? Everyone NOT living, SO WHAT?

AGAIN. I AM NOT BEING EMO. I am just looking at this from a strange psychological point of view.

Speaking of Psychology, I’m super fascinated by how the human brain works. Not the cerebellum thing, I mean how they think. And I have a talent of making bogus theories that makes lots of sense! Or so I think. It has happened plenty a times. I think of why something is like that, and an explaination comes up, it all seems to fit, behold, Bogus Theory!

For example, today I was telling Celine how our jokes, ALL seem to be dirty. EVERY SINGLE one that is funny is dirty. If it’s not dirty, it’s not funny. Then I thought that maybe after you get laid, it won’t be the subject of a joke anymore. It’s more like a leisure? And since they don’t consider it joke, they have no other funny jokes to tell. That’s why most adults are dull compared to kids. Who tell dirty joke.

Bogus.

January 4, 2007
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I tell myself to stop using the computer.

I ask myself, “Why confine yourself to a screen not larger than two feet squared, when there’s more than a million acres out there for you to explore?”

Sometimes I contradict myself.

I reply, “Because with the computer, you can access not only to all parts of Earth, but also do it within seconds, within the click of the mouse.”

I shut myself up.

Sometimes, I contradict myself so much, I do not know which stand I believe in.

Speak to the indecisive,

my subconscious mind balances with my conscious one.

November 20, 2006
It sucks.

I hate the haze. It makes me depressed. Maybe it’s not just the haze, but the haze on top of everything.

I thought there was going to be peace. Well, there was. Momentarily. Now it’s just a big stupid patch of haze obstructing my line of vision.

It used to be so clear. What was what, what I like and what I do not. Now it’s different, there is the haze, forever clouding up what used to be so damn obvious.

And then there were the lights, piercing through the fogginess. Not as glaring, dimmed. It used to shed light to stuff, give them a definition of what they are.

Now it can never be confirmed. It’s just a singular orb of light by it’s own. It does not swallow the world with it’s light, but allow itself to be engulfed by the haze.

It sucks, and I don’t know why. I’m seeking confirmation, I never get that. The only consolation is the comfort of knowing that the haze has not covered me. Yet.

There’s still a radius of clarity around me, though that’s just an optical illusion, I’m fine with it.

I can just let go, it affects me directly, that’s true, but it will never really harm me fatally. I despise the fact of how I can’t just forget about the whole damn thing.

You’ll never understand me. I’m under a facade.

And quit laughing or saying I act cheem and deep. I’m not. I’m not even using my high-class English. Don’t always expect me to be some circus clown. It sucks to know funny people gets slammed from having the blues.

October 6, 2006