Thinking long and hard, long and hard. What the hell am I doing here, this time and this place? Am I enjoying myself in this present state of affair? No.
Can I sustain myself if I try to extricate myself from this predicament? I don't think so.
There has got to be a way, a way somewhere, hidden by the overgrown weeds and fallen trees.
A knight without his stead, without a aim in sight, trudging along confused. No different from lost sheep away from the herd.
O Captain, my captain, where are you?
Walt Whitman I.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring. But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red! Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
II.
O captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up! For you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills: For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for you the shores a-crowding: For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
III.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won! Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead
If 50,000 years ago, there were less than a million human beings, and if each got reincarnated. The world now having 5-6 billion people, wouldn't that mean the modern soul is a smaller fraction of million souls?
A little fragment of the one, so we go on searching for the missing pieces that would make our souls complete. In our own little ways, we go about trying to piece together a complete picture. Like a thousand parts of jigsaw puzzle, or the missing paints yet covering the canvas.
Sometimes pieces look like they fit, other times, pieces that fit are thrown away. Sometimes, pieces don't fit, and when they're forced into place, they break. Eventually, people have to learn that there is no perfect fit. The missing pieces are everywhere, in everyone, and the beautiful part is these pieces are not static. They are beautifully ever changing, every living, passing day, breathes new life into them. That's why we never find all the pieces we set out to.
People search for these pieces in anyway possible, fame, glory, money and whatever pleases. Having pieces to find is reason enough for living life to its fullest, otherwise you spend the rest of the journey resenting the ride.
But is it the destination or the journey that is worth the time? Whether a beautiful complete puzzle or a enjoyable process would be more fulfilling. There are people building their little puzzles with great joy and also people with grand masterpieces complete, but bitter.
Most f* day in my entire life, and there's still half left.
I wish the ground would just swallow me up right now.
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EDIT: 1:56AM
And so I survived it. Whatever life has to throw my way, I'm ready. So the question is, what is the point of this story? Disappointed by people, making it harder to trust. Metal doors, metal doors. Where's the key?
All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Slowly, it's unlocking, but it still needs some time. Some time to re-configure the loner.dat module OUT of the system. Time to uninstall "anal.dll" and run "socialble.exe" and "humour.exe".
I won't be afraid of failure and I won't be too shy to ask people for help from now on. I'm willing to give letting people in a chance.
Whatever strange, anti-social comments last night, please ignore them. It was "defence-mode.exe".
Time to move on. Start to tie up loose ends, and time to straighten my life. No more HOC and JCRC after this semester, just archery, studies and MY life.
I want my life back, so don't go taking it away from my hands.
Having tanked the Sembawang shoot... I though "what the hell..."
I was supposed to wake up feeling like me old cheery self again, the sun would shine once more, and everything would be prefect once again. That's not so simple.
Interesting article about Foxes. Kitsune. Japanese fox spirits from the ancient lore of Nihon. Disguised as woman, malevolent or benevolent, the stories depict men falling in love with them. Good fox spirits in love.
They say a broken bowstring brings bad luck. What happens if you break 2?
Nothing much. Lost and found my hall keys. I just wish the rain will leave me be for a weekend. The shoot is tomorrow, and let's cross fingers for the best.
Talking about death and torture is indeed an interesting conversational topic. lol.
Surviving on junk food. Biscuits, potato chips, cup noodles and an apple.
This is nonsense.
Inexcusable! This ill treatment of my appetite has got to cease.
If only. To eat without remorse, and to enjoy every bit. No mere stuffing the gut just to sustain an existence. Food is there for us to enjoy, not shackles that bound us to some gruesome fate.
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said:—Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains: round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.
First flight out of gray-white technicolour-land, Chipping off the old stoic van. No nonsense tolerated by the silver watch. But nothing powered white can't match.
Speaking of riddles in riddles, around around the mulberry bush.
On my way to becoming a Japanese tourist impersonator, or that's what Shermy claims. Over steamboat on Wednesday, the 2 Gs and an S got together for a farewell dinner to mark Gerald's leaving for Canada for the new semester.
Time flies, and the vacations have come to pass. School restarts in 3 days.
Between late night calls, archery trainings, meetings, and the endless slew of tasks, there is a certain sense of fulfillment.
Realization that events are starting to overtake my pace, and the world's news is more of "yesterday" rather than today.
I still feel like a fish out of water, into the frying pan,followed by the processing factory.
Let's bid a fond farewell to year 2006, and with open arms, welcome 2007.The last 2 weeks of 2006 was extremely pleasant times, Nick came back, Gerald came back and even Seng Chye came back.
The 4 musketeers were at last reunited.Been over to Nicky's for 2 parties within that time span, finding time to catch up with Chye ping, Gerald and Shermy. Finally saw vivocity with my quirky, ducky friend and caught snowcake with the gang from tutorial class.
I didn't fail any subjects, and got away with a B average. A+ in chem, heh.That is my first A in an academic subject in a long time. Anyway,it's not time to feel conceited or proud, it means more hard work for a better grade next semester.
In the meantime, 2006 bid its farewell and 2007 crept up on us. Bangkok was the victim of several bombs, and authorities claim it is the work of politically motivated individuals. I other words, terrorist attack, but not quite. They can't say it's the Southern insurgents, yet, it's still insurgents. Terrorism closer to Guy Fawke's style. perhaps we, the global community are trying to hard to generalize terrorism?
That's beside the point. 2007 is here, and in 2 weeks, I'm off to the Sembawang Shoot. A new semester will begin in 1 and school will start all over again.
