Tuesday, 26 April 2016


public class Dictionary {
    public class DCell {
         int key;
         DCell next;
         DCell prev;


I'm not sure which bothers me more, losing a very expensive suit-jacket, or less expensive but more meaningful (to me) set of keys. All I can say is that it was my fault, but perhaps I expected more kindness and help? I always tell myself to give the most and expect the least, but perhaps I've touched a limit to stoicism here. I have lost some faith in humanity, for real. And I've taken on so much personal sacrifice... I don't know. I'm out of breath here. Sometimes you just really really wonder, and get frustrated, is it worse for other people? Really? Or at least amongst your peers?

I mean, I just spent $30 on ubers, and 2 hours of my midterm studying time to make a police report that might amount to basically nothing but cold, sarcastic stares and remarks from a random police officer whom I can empathize with frankly (he's probably had a shitty day or has had to deal with shitty people in his life). I don't know what I was expecting, maybe Batman-esque, crime novel, miraculous case solving. Now I have to deal with perhaps not getting anything back.


Not in the mood right now. Sorry Agneska. I'm not as strong, nor wealthy, for that matter.


The truth is, I'm dealing with more than 1 issue right now.


Sometimes I wonder if people pity or judge me - why are you being so cold? Why are you being low energy right now? Does this guy even want to talk to me? I'm not sure how to respond. You caught me at a bad moment pal.


I know I have a vengeful spirit. It comes when you feel powerless (both the lack of, or just less powerful). It is unhealthy, I know! Would you not be trapped in such a mental state too given my circumstances? Maybe not, then kudos to your genes and upbringing. Maybe I wasn't so fortunate, but I keep trying. I'll always fight.


What is it about me that I need to change?


I want to acknowledge more great talks, with Pumai and Marcus, and Yams.

Monday, 25 April 2016


This post is for the missed chances. If there is such a thing.


I talked with my roommate again. I enjoy his musings and quiet, contemplative company, and wish I could reciprocate in mandarin. He is a good friend and gentle soul. If I could, I would give him more time and more hugs.

We talked about Robert Frost's road less traveled, or at least I did. With Pumai back then too. I was trying to explain that people misinterpret the poem as some inspiration to be 'daring' or an 'outlier'. The truth is that I was mistaken as much as everyone else. The poem was conceived as almost ironical - Frost was demonstrating our minds tendencies to fantasize and obsess over missed opportunities at what not. They are unchangeable and contingent, we move on a whim.


Although I feel... dissatisfied as a whole (I am not complaining) I loved talking to Alex on our way to World Market and back, stopping for coffee (duh). Sometimes she would stare into space, and I'm honestly left a little lost - am I boring? Or too uncomfortable in silence still? Regardless, I tend to 'over-find' meaning in simple excursions like that. Over-eager melancholy perhaps. And once again I failed to stop myself from sharing too much of my thoughts. I lust for knowledge and connection.


Yet another HTHT, this time with Shanshan. She's very thoughtful and sweet/charming. And actually hilarious. Hanging out with Singaporeans have always left me feeling warmer and steadier. "But...but, they're girls!" was the honest to god, simple answer that I needed.


I was looking through my blog statistics when I realized to my dismay I ignored YY's comment in an earlier post. I supposedly pride myself a little in taking care to address everyone and yet I failed to see that...fuck. What a missed chance at good conversation if she doesn't reply... I still remember going with YY to the museum and having delicious honey latte nearby, and her blog is always a joy. If only there were more time for that. If only I was paying attention instead of wallowing in self-doubt at the time.


#83 Samurai Jack
Another cartoon reminder.
Samurai Jack is perhaps my favourite cartoon of all time. Even before Naruto and his dramatic 'overcoming' of everything, Jack was quietly, stoically overcoming. I identify strongly with those moments of solitude and hidden strength, his wondrous adventures meeting strangers that would become friends, that he would serve unquestionably and nobly. I was taught, for better or for worse, by cartoons like Samurai Jack. Artfully silent and beautifully unique, Jack was alone in a messy and foreign world, and he felt real in his struggle to hold on to his beliefs and fortitude. The villain Aku, being part comic relief, served as a nihilistic reminder to me, that we can laugh over drama too, and yet those values we hold are still important. The show was never finished, and even that is symbolic. The cartoon will be missed.

Saturday, 23 April 2016

What ifs

Had a deep conversation with Pumai. Bruh is real. And I am sad in the unsustainability of ideals.


Although slightly petty, I think I need to talk about Peter. Peter reminds me of myself in many ways (I mean, most people do in some ways, c'est la vie) and yet, to reference Tolstoy yet again, I feel like the later, tempered and more down-to-earth Andrei, while Peter is still convinced of how the world works in a certain way, or at least should follow a certain way. I used to be early for all my meetings, made sure everything was neat and tidy, turned off all the lights and wiped the board and pushed in the chairs in class, and to a large extent, still do. But I no longer hold others to that standard, and have checked my own foolishness in trying to achieve unnecessary perfection in certain things and rules. Of course, I cannot say that either me or Peter is right intrinsically, mais bien sur, I am convinced of my own views. Perhaps I have to once again be convicted in certain ideals, but how can one be if convinced that you know nothing really? But truly, we are opposite results of the same core.


I loved that conversation with Daniel... dam he's great to talk to when he's drunk.
I had this sense, that if we were really to talk, on a personal level, we'd actually find so much in common, and I wasn't mistaken. And the truth is, I feel this way with so many people, and it is just such a tragedy that I cannot let each and every one of them know this, or that even if we were different, that I'm willing to share and indulge them in deep conversation.
The question was whether to be open or not, and the answers were understandably vice versa for us; he was more closed and wanted to be open, and I the opposite.


I just recalled something from so long ago...about Nurul Farahin. I remember I had a dream about her and I actually wrote a written email of apology. Man you have no idea how much impact Zhen Ting made on me.


The 'friendzone' is a derogatory/patriarchal term; I will never use it. But the pain of imbalanced relationships is real; but I will never show it. Respect your promises and respect your friends' decisions.


What Could Have
Have you ever thought
What could have?
Have you, I guess not,
I should have...

If only you could see
There's no fate, no mystery
We're not meant to be
That's not the key

All it takes is time
On quiet afternoons
Simplicity is fine
We don't need full moons

Mais je me suis trompé
We had different visions
Il faisait soleil

Saturday, 16 April 2016

West to Easter: Eastest

Two conscripted officers, in a cemetery in America, talking about Singaporean politics.
More bizarre, these two guys haven't spoken in years, nor did they talk very much even back home. Do you have friends that, while you were in the same class, or same residence, or same student group that you didn't talk to very much in that group... but then once you've left you find yourself in a situation to connect with them, and you do. And you are reminded of all the possibilities and things said and unsaid, and it's a little sad. So it perhaps is, with this little excursion on the east.

Han Yang was my armskote bro. Fellow support officer with a positive outlook and similar sense of humor in some regards. I think we both knew we would make good friends, if given the time, less stress, and similar vocations. But he went off to engineers and I to signals. And so surreal it is, to have met him in Boston, our first stop being a cemetery. You'll never get a more international experience than that. I guess I romanticize 'hidden' or 'unexpected' or 'unseen' things, a little unhealthily at times, because people think I'm weird or not interested in the mainstream(?). And honestly who would have thought me and Han Yang would have met again in such quirky circumstances and hit it off immediately. ENFJs place so much value in everyone, it can hurt not to be reciprocated, or what is perceived as unrequited companionship. But I won't whine or be bound by such statistics, they are merely guides to understanding.

I spent the whole morning and afternoon with Han Yang, eating great food, exploring the city, and talking at lengths about Wesleyan and Northwestern, Singapore, our lives. It was so heartening to hear Han Yang open up to me like that. He's a kind a generous person and is unafraid of his flaws. We talked about college bubbles, our own bubbles. How crazy awesome Americans (actually just humans with the right mind-set) are. And course, all the unsolicited Singlish spam, that inevitably attracted the attention of another Singaporean who happened to be in the same restaurant. Language and accent is powerful stuff. The cemetery was beautifully calm and unfortunately closed (just the tower don't worry), my luck had to run I suppose.

And then, Ash. I know I've romanticized pretty much everybody in this series of posts, but it's only because I value and admire all of them in their own different ways, and it's a little awkward to express them elsewhere. But also, seriously, Ash was like the climax of the trip (ew), ok highlight of the trip. Ash was the one  person I spent the least time with, yet probably wanted to spend the most time with? Someone I, might as well say it, really aspire to be. High energy, an RA (which I failed to be), a classic rocker, a patriot, neither church nor club but both. When I say I connected with the various people on this trip, they really don't compare to how much I can relate to Ash. We talked about our frustration... with pretty much all the aforementioned things; I guess the difference being Ash is more high energy and has well, a pillar of support so to speak. Most people I know, have stuck to their core, and are living contented. Yet I know my weakness is like Pierre in War and Peace, in a manner of speaking. I cannot settle on something, because I don't like to rule out possibilities, I fetish-ize the road less traveled, I make it a point to leave when I'm comfortable, especially here in college. And as a result, I'm absolutely lost in the wilderness while my friends have moved further.  I hoped to find the fellow loners, but that obviously makes very little sense.

Ok, I transgressed there into things I wanted to talk about that have less to do with Ash. She brought me to yet another Korean place (having eaten Korean at Brown) which was awesome, and we got straight to catching up with as much fervor as the past few days, if not more. I told her the lack of sleep would probably affect me but honestly, meeting and talking with her was enough caffeine. We somehow hit all the right notes and rarely disagreed (which is good and bad), even discovering our somehow aligning quirks like our unabashed love for good ol' millennium rock or even the fact that we were sometimes confused my Melissa. Ash is the kind of person I am on my best days. So what's the secret? Brute force of will? Aspirations engender expectations. Marcus is right in saying that mediocrity is not a sin, yet how can I ever settle on that crowd mentality?

Singaporeans punch above their own weight. Majulah.


Well Boston was the furthest East I traveled, so I guess Eastest counts?

Friday, 15 April 2016

West to Easter: Easter

Mass and Marijuana, Pot and Prayers; they're all religious
So technically it was Good Friday. But then technically this post is three weeks late. I remember the lack of sleep, I remember Brandon being the same as he's always been. The truth is there is a Brandon in all of us, and so we affectionately laugh over his quirks that are really us deep inside. Let's just say he's an anxious dude. Barely 200 meters from the station was all it took for our conversation to shift towards activism on campus, specifically with regard to African-American activism. Damn it's good to be around old friends.

Not that we talked very long about it. Brandon showed me around diligently but also with very little sense about his campus (self-admittedly too) and invited me to Good Friday words, testimonies, hymns, the like. I have this feeling Steph, Brandon and Nick think I'm still Christian, or maybe not, and they were just being nice chaps inviting me to all the Christian proceedings. I find myself lucky that I can consider them, and my non-christian friends good friends and that I hang out with both groups. It was not lost on me how contrasting my stay with Conor and this group of christian friends were (and this was to turn 180 again when I finally met up with Marcus); and it was... well I was going to say amusing but that's pretty snobbish. I guess I just find it rewarding, and wish people would develop relationships like that. It was also not lost on me how I'm able to connect with this group of christian friends more than say, my 'party' friends. There's a few of us, but the number is growing - the people in the middle again. Yams, Kwang Ik, Marcus, Yan Zhou...the thoughtful agnostics and atheists. But that's too tribal and exclusive. And although this blog is an outlet, I have to honor and acknowledge that everyone lies on a spectrum and my comfort range of friends just revolves around a certain group.

I wish I could quote some or even talk in detail about all our conversations, but they lay deep in my subconscious at this point, behind the massive amount of reading I still have to do. I try my best to record. (Just think how difficult, maybe improbable it would be to recall events that happened 100 earlier, all compiled into a book of personal wisdom and stories... just saying.) I met Brandon's friend, who's name already escapes me. I saw Brandon's room, and felt a tinge when he was saying how he tried but couldn't connect with his roommate. "He's in hockey (a jock), you know how it is." That was the kind of thing I was trying my best to avoid... Although I wasn't thinking it at the time, I've always felt, perhaps naively, that you can connect with anyone if we all just tried hard enough. It is devastating to realize there is a point you can't get past. It is worse to realize others can do it much better than you when you really want people to know, this is who you are and you would give a lot for them. Maybe worst, in some sublime melancholic human condition-ish thing, that barrier was just artificial; it was time and space, it was language or culture or pre-conceived judgement that prevented two people with the same souls from reaching each other.

Perhaps I delusion myself and wallow in stupid philosophizing. The world is simple and beautiful with a cup of coffee. I met Nick Chuan, his hair disheveled and his figure and manner and intellect not out of place if he was born in the 18th century or earlier. As with Steph, it was easy to fall into great conversation and easier still were the laughs and stupor.

Marcus Yeo though. Like some intervention, some dramatic plot tool where the protagonist, unexpectedly finds a hermit in the forest or something, Marcus Yeo walks into the Korean restaurant and back into my life. (LOL fuck I'm having too much fun writing stupid drama. It's good to be back laughing at myself.) Marcus Yeo is what made my time at Brown different from Yale. He gave the light-hearted but still deep and personal contrast to Nick and Brandon's sometimes religious overtones. I will remember all those one to one moments, like me and Steph on the campus green, or me and Brandon throughout campus (I never got one with busy Nick), and now with Marcus Yeo, in pseudo-romantic fashion, around the city, on the banks of the river looking at the pale glowing lights. We talked about so many things, about scholarships, being international students (what else right), where Singapore is going (probably my favourite topic at this point), etc.
"Dude, same!"
Was what I might have needed to hear all along. And after the talk, just weed, an atrocious film, and hugs and goodbyes... I still feel the effects of not getting into council. But then, nobody has ever not run in failure.


I am left to wonder if I'm just a feminine and sensitive person who was repressed.


You hate hugs? Don't kid yourself.


What can I pride myself with now?


My parent's only connection with me are asking for my pictures of the trip.


Post is Easter because, it's east of new haven and it was Good Friday -> Easter. Puns are hard, I'm sorry.

Je ne sais pas quoi dire

2 things.

Language; or inability to speak it.

Body type; or lack of muscle.

I promised. So I'll keep it.

Am I going to complain again?

My weakest moments are when, in my head, I'm transported into someone else's, almost like Harry in Voldemort's head, and I see myself. And I feel pity, or weakness. Meaning I imagine the person is pitying me, or judging. And it's a weird and dark cycle because when you feel that, you generally become that in some unconscious desperation. And you kind of just want to scream.

Don't self-deprecate? Maybe I should do stand-up so I'm allowed to.

Maybe I should seek help. From a friend I mean. The trouble with being so independent.

OK. That was really all I needed, perhaps.

So where do I go from here.
If not doing anything wrong means I have to be lonely... ok don't use that word. That's not fair. I cannot threaten.
Too easy, play dirty? Share less, more hugs?

Sometimes I feel frustrated I had to learn this all on my own, but then everyone pretty much has to too. Maybe not as late, and not without an ounce of guidance from my family.

The Americans are too American, and the Singaporeans are too Singaporean.
I need to become a better listener; because when it's you sharing most of the time, you will automatically get the feeling you're the only one with problems.

I'm recalling the time Yi Hui leaned on my shoulder and how that was such a foreign feeling to me. That's pretty sad, but I am better than that, and I've learnt.

Why don't people take me in the arms right, or lean on my shoulder. Well, they did, and it made it even more confusing. This is true.

One of those times when it hurts so much you feel it, physically. How much easier would it have been to grow up bigger and stronger I will never, ever, know.

Was Elza right in saying I need to be with someone that I will have greater power over? Because that's just disgusting imo...

The stuff on my blog are emo because I blog when I am emo, so this isn't a natural disposition! I'm actually fine. Just gotta put stuff out there ya know.

Friday, 8 April 2016

West to Easter: East

New Haven
Eating microwaveable food on the edge of Yale's campus green talking about Singaporeans
Stephanie is one of those friends. How does she do it? Energy and intellect, warmth and open arms. I admit that when I re-contacted my friends on the East Coast, I was pensive of how they would... react to seeing me? As it turns out - exactly how I would have reacted to seeing them. Energy and intellect, warmth and open arms. ENFJs. Like we've not missed a day. I've always considered my time in RJ to be full of wasted chances with people. I was a little moody at times, a prick and loner at other times; inconsistent energy and judgmental. I wonder if it was because I failed to get into both the student's council and choir - I consider those invaluable lessons nonetheless.

But back to Steph Siow. It was so refreshing to be among peers again, I mean Singaporeans who talked about being Singaporean here, even about being Singaporean in Singapore - which is a huge issue by the way - it was just indescribable how much we connected. My ego also shamelessly fed by a re-awoken sense of Singaporean humor that I never truly got with the Singaporeans at Northwestern (which is what I wanted, to be sure). [Steph, and later Ash would comment how I was one of the funniest people they knew] So this is what the comfort zone feels like. The Singaporeans who never left home, yet were open to absorbing America into their bloodstream. Patriots who aren't tribal. The foolish young Singaporeans who think Singapore can be saved from cultural entropy, and that America can teach us something.

I often jokingly/arrogantly rant about how I was part of a special art program but was never 'as eccentric' as the rest, only to realize later I truly am just as crazy and ironic and whatever you can describe us in different ways. The same is true of being Rafflesian.

So Steph had just woken up when I got to her place, and told me to wait about 10 minutes unless I wanted to meet her without her teeth brushed. There is an instant connection in that kind of humour, trust me. Or maybe not, maybe it was just hearing each others' voices, not having changed much, again...

We caught up tremendously; she's attached, like all the other Rafflesians I'd meet on this trip, which I cannot lie made me re-examine my life a little haha; she's now full-blown christian, she's still capable as hell yet humbly curious. She sort of 'used' me to return her books and take her profile picture but I couldn't care less, because that just added to the feeling that there wasn't any fake distance between us. When you're as obsessed about 'adapting' and purposefully pushing for difference as me, you will have one too many identity crisis (and I mean this in the least dramatic way possible; just to stop this post from spiraling down the self-absorbed/pity/emotional post it is headed towards fast). The long and thoughtful and amusing conversations with Steph Siow in this less than urban campus setting known as Yale University brought me back from the be-wilderness that is Northwestern; business, consulting, financing and all. After diving in the pool for so long, discovering and being around the biodiversity, it was like coming out of the pool or the sea and sitting on the ledge of the pool or boat, with your old friend, just talking about the sea and the stars. Fuck that was so dramatic sometimes I wonder if I'm ironic or not.

Importantly, we connected over the typical Singaporeans who just studied and never got out of their comfort zone in the US, about where Singapore was headed, about our schools and cultures and American politics, etc. We diverged in what we were doing with our time mostly. She's on the church side, and I remain stubbornly lost in the center. Will I go for the full 180 next year?


These posts have lost some energy, like all my posts frankly, as the days drag on by in Northwestern.

On the way to New Haven, you have to pass the train station 'West Haven'; so in fact, new haven is... East... Haven.

Thursday, 7 April 2016

West to Easter: Wester

Happiness: a good bank account, a good cook, and a good digestion - Jean-Jacques Rousseau
You are what you eat? It all becomes the same building blocks. You are who you meet. In my head, like everyone else's, it's nice to simplify and abstract. I think my friends are but various manifestations of me. There is a side that is tired, hedonistic and would rather retire on an olive farm than deal with the complexities of the city and the masquerade of people. And so there's Conor Jones. Call me naive, but despite not having the deepest or most complex of conversations with Conor, I believe it equally essential to have had that stay with him in New York.

In a gist, lots and lots and lots of Marijuana. Cartoons and beers for sides and video games for desserts. The value was never in pursuit of these 'pleasures' (because I will openly admit I probably don't enjoy them as much as Conor and his brothers do), it was... the view. It is the same with any 'getaway trip'. It gives you a chance to step away from routine and your life, step out of your character even, go backstage or go outside and hear and smell the city, especially, when you do it alone. My days were not spontaneous but still largely unplanned; each day I decided what I'd do and see or which road I'd walk down in the moment, just me and my camera and my new lens. I learnt about Conor and caught a glimpse of his family life, which was so meaningful to me. I wandered around Chinatown NYC, a marvelous place that in it's quaint ways and shamelessly American AND Chinese aspects represented what I love about the US. I stumbled upon the Museum of Chinese in America, enlightening me to a previous era of racism not unlike today's bigoted attitude towards Muslims; things have changed but the similarities can be disheartening.

I had so much time with my camera and my music and guess, myself - I relished every moment of it while I could. It is not true that you have to go to some 'exotic', far-away place. Introspection can happen right here in the big city, where the crowds engulf the individual, and you see yourself clearer for it. I'm so thankful for Conor hosting me, the hospitality of his mother, the drunken chat about photography with his father, the paid-for intelligent conversation with his grandparents and the... relaxed... evening with his brothers. This is what money and liberty buy you.

But I do not say that Conor is simple-minded. I have always sought to understand people like him; the inner-machinations of his mind (are an enigma); that was a spongebob quote, and that was the kind of humor I connected with him on for the entirety of my time. My friends in Singapore, my art friends are like him, or he is like them. And I know for a fact that under the facade of eccentricity is brilliance and melancholy. Cheers to the wonderful imagination and childish complexity.


Wester is a reference to Upper West Side; Upper + West = Wester(?)


This series of posts are starting to remind me of the Five People You Meet in Heaven.

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

West to Easter: West

This post I think, realistically, has to be in parts or I'll be really sleep deprived.
Evanston - West
Manhattan - Wester
New Haven - East
Providence - Easter
Boston - Eastest

Not sure if there'll be a Westest yet.


It's a pun. Like, East, Easter, Eastest?


Spring Break is over, and I'll not forget, unlike doing CTECs. A string, a flood, of just wonderful, addictive, invigorating conversations with old and new friends from New York (orkkk concrete jungles where dreams are made offf) to Boston. It is indescribable to me, as I'm sure it is to anyone who has had the pleasure of speaking freely and knowing that your partner in conversation is doing so as well; speaking your mind, so that they may know it, and you may know theirs. To see their face light up in excitement or exasperation, and to know that sharing together is a gift. I re-read what I just wrote and you know, it sounds a little like the open mic I heard last week - I guess it isn't that much different when I express myself in what can only be described as tongues really. Let's get started and hope I don't disappoint.


It takes two hands to eat crappy pasta.
Reminding myself that I nearly did not have this conversation had I chosen to be a bum and order take-out or go off-campus to eat. But I'm a sucker for having one to one conversations. Annddd I guess I have to be honest (embarassingly) that I was looking forward to speaking with Agneska again
(having said we would after Intl Dinner; yes I remember) and always do regardless (I have been actively trying to pick up conversationalist skills because these people are just naturals I swear.) Also, is it just me or do my posts sound a little too... English. (I dislike using the word British; I do not sound remotely Welsh, Scottish or Northern Irish) What did it start with again?

Watery pasta. And giving up on keeping a clean diet for gastroenteritis. Open letter to pesto sauce, why did you fail me the one time I vouched for you? In any case, it was probably 'how has the quarter been for you, sort of on a 1-10 scale'. How has it been compared to the last? Busy. My standard answer since week 3. And standard answers are not the most memorable. Argh. The lack of sleep and beers are catching on and I can't remember things. I remember where she sat and looked and eat and her reactions and I guess, the important messages; I'll start on those.

"Leeks, don't give me that fucking nice guys finish last bullshit."
Something about I don't want to be preachy but do it anyway -> also bullshit, you do it all the time.
Expressed my frustration at knowing what the right thing to do, right frame of mind should be, and truly, sincerely seeking to fulfill them, but failing regularly. O right, it started because she correctly pointed out that my blog post was entitled 'kids' and that obviously lays bare (hah! synonym for show) my inner, true(?) prejudices. So what do you have to do to fight against that? I will try harder to change. This is a wake up call.
Wake up call no.2: Not everybody is interested in having an argument all the fucking time Leeks.
Time to actively read people's energy levels and stop complaining about people not following ideals of debate and having good opinions. Really just being annoyingly confrontational. Stop being a devil's advocate all the fucking time too. Putting other people's ideas down is for realists internet trolls.
And of course, perhaps for a true first time (insert footnotes here about not disregarding all the other times, just that this might have been the most etc.), she shared too. I reiterate again how... I guess honored(?) I am when people share. It's just nice to know people trust you? OK not the point and probably not the right word to use. Trust me, I used to be way more of a high horse mfucker who doesn't share his own vulnerabilities and just dishes out advice probably because my frail ego couldn't handle it. Or maybe not, it's been a while and that's in the past I don't know. It was exhilarating to hear her stories.

This part is continued a week after writing the rest. I have had many good thoughts this week and in my obsession of trying to keep them all I've resorted to writing them into my class notes - which is terrible. Perhaps most terrible is I've probably forgotten a lot more I could've written had I not promised a bazillion people and organizations I'd do my part for them. Hold on, a hiccup; I'm not entirely sure how much I'm entitled to divulge about her so I guess I shan't. (Also I promised something.)  I very very very much dislike just being all me all the time but I guess this is my blog... I will leave this to real life conversations. I guess I could've posted a week ago after all.


#83 Invictus

Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not once winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed

Beyond this place of wraith and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade.
Yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul


Just want to point out that the names of these posts are rarely arbitrarily chosen.
West is a reference to Plex West.