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to note
(written in March 2012)
whatever injustice you’ve suffered, don’t let it ruin you.
anger is energy. pain is energy. it can implode and destroy you, but control it well and it becomes a force that propels you.
whatever happens to us we cannot prevent or change, but what happens after is a choice we can make.
take this anger, sadness, pain, disappointment and make it yours to use.
use it as fuel to get where you want, get what you want. use it as a reason to want to be happy. use it to find this happiness.
whatever happens, don’t let it ruin you.
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So many things
This semester has been nothing short of eventful.
For once since awhile, I feel not just content with the present and nostalgic for the past – but hopeful (and kinda excited tbh) about the future.
Things of significance from the past four months:
- I now have clearer idea of what I want to do when I graduate, even if it’s nowhere near fixed. And most of all, I’m doing things towards this direction.
- I want to create, perform, make art. This semester, for some reason (or maybe I subconsciously pursued it), so much of what I used to love doing came by as opportunities. (Ok these next time then say). While dozing off one day I had a vivid half-lucid dream (partly thanks to Spotify’s amazing ambiance playlist). In this half-dream was a dance sequence in which I had the most striking revelation that what I really want in my life right now is to find the self I want to know, and that to do that I need to create because that’s when I can most wholly express myself.
- That… I may have misunderstood change. For so long I’ve struggled with keeping up with the me that has been since uni started. I catch myself being more thoughtful, quiet, even shy. (Friends may stop laughing at this point, tqvm.) There are aspects of this me I like – someone who is able to pause and control and reflect. But the side that was uninhibited and kinda weird and mostly insane, that was a me I missed and thought I’d lost. These days I find myself laughing a little more freely, not caring so much about what others think, and generally just losing my volume control. It makes me wonder if I’d gone quieter because of maturity, weariness, or because it was what I’ve been implicitly told to do by others. Because I don’t feel weary; and I’m slowly realizing that the new me does not need to replace the old one – they can co-exist perfectly well. Maybe I just need the right audience.
- It amazes me that at the age of 22, best friends can still be found and made.
- Between being a complete masochist and a hedonist, I’m learning to be less self-punishing, especially when it comes to academics. It occurred to me how narrow and pointless a path it is to have my grades take even one of the central stages in my life. There are things in life I want more than that. Empty roads just for me at 3am. Meiji milk at the top of the playground. Spending the whole morning in bed with my uke.
I said I wanna find myself again, and it’s actually working.
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ma~da
Wow so I have not written a single proper, this-is-my-life-now post for more than a month.
Here is my life now: busy, but good.
I don’t feel very in touch with school this semester – probably a post-exchange syndrome – and I’m expecting first class honors to slip out of my grasp by the end of this term. But I’m okay with that.
This period of time has been more about what I’m doing beyond NUS. It’s a quarter of a year of my life, not just “a semester” contextualized by school.
So it has been lots of friends, new projects (!!!), side work, meeting people new&old. And lots of prime time with my SP3 making plans for the future.
A future that has just had its windows blown wide open, because… well yeah:
About being single again, it has been exciting. Finding myself outside the context of a relationship… the freedom can get overwhelming at times, but so far I am quite enjoying being overwhelmed by everyone and everything.
xo
lots of positive vibes.
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a kind of madness
for anyone who had food become a demon in their mind, xo
To stand mid-aisle at the grocer’s,
shelves unraveling in sensual
chrome; to have this cookie pressed in
the flex of my palm, insisting,
crying a bald infant’s need to
be fed. It reminds me that I
am mad and have become numbers –
each pound and rib immaculate,
quietly approaching zero. If
this self could still be mine, hold me
up at the cashier, razor thin
blade against bone, and have me choose:
body or your life?
body or my life.
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quantum improbability
(or, the crudeness of measurement)
Subatom flicker
– ing through a haze of probability
into the lick of my open palm,finding you was mere plot: latitude against longitude
on an imaginary plane.To keep you safe I swallow you whole. Warm for days,
you burn into nights. I measure skid marks
to chase your spin and speedbut logic has lost count. A second is a braid
that unspools into hours held
by thumb on throat to your pulse now mine.The neighbour upstairs thinks I am possessed.
The letterbox creaks for release.
Inside me a glyph spreads like virus, foreign
and incurable.
Q 