The second sex

I guess I didn't have the heart to start my homework till I've recorded some of the passion I have for this stupidity.

The thing with women is,

they are smart, stupid, dedicated, lazy, creative, dull, deep, superficial, strong, weak, independent, needy, skilled, mediocre, funny, lame, adaptable, inflexible, loyal, flaky, disciplined, turbulent.
They are varied in character and aptitude, they are full human beings, and so don't tell me about locker room banter or apparently 'alpha male boasting'. This is not 'natural' for boys (it's not unnatural either, mind you). If you don't mean what you say, why are you saying it?

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Painted my door for 10 hours instead of doing homework.
Retiring before starting my career apparently.

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Lately been unable to pen down my thoughts even though they are important, mostly about how I've changed, or 'reacted'? I wish I had the time to make more people smile. I wish I was as clear as a person, but deep in my guts is a gene built for refusal.

It was strange that Dom thought I was hard to read... then again I guess I haven't exactly heard people saying I'm easy to read(?)

Hierarchical and Institutional Power

The title was just the answer which I never got to say in class today.

In truth I wanted to blog yesterday immediately after seeing Mel again in a while. It was really nice catching up with her and frankly just nice to have a long 1-1 conversation with another person again. I brought this up with Steele just now, another reason why they are important to me. It's because I can really bring out the person, their unique character, I can know them, for their strengths, flaws and aspirations, I can experience the fullness of their being. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too dramatic in spirit for my own good (probably). This is what separates me from 'the typical Singaporean', or maybe not, because I don't truly know what goes on in other people's minds. I just know there is a deviance that is apparent in Karen and Yi Hai, and Tze Yang... there is depth I can feel.

I wasn't sure what to make of it honestly, we both know it was a little awkward avoiding the rootbeer keg in the lounge kind of - that we have some history, however brief. Wasn't sure if I would have liked it to have been mentioned, maybe closure, or no. I still like her, but I know somehow it won't work, not really. Given some different circumstance, or some later time, who knows. Or you know, maybe she doesn't really care about that anymore, which could certainly be the case. But I have so much respect for how mature she is, and how the relationship was.

I've aged a lot since then... I don't know if I'll fit it in anymore, going back. It tires me to think about how all the friends I've made here will be gone... it tires me to think about how much of a prick I used to be. It really is just tiring to be alone. Yet the ugliness of it, I've also become more aware of - that I'm selfish, that I'm picky and that I'm not as ready to give up my individuality and freedom as much as I used to think. In the end, so many things are ephemeral.... I just thought about how I didn't give Daniel my blog, even though I wanted to once. Am I just looking for permanence in age?

C'était un bien jour

J'admis j'ai pris beaucoup de verres. Je n'ai pas beaucoup de temp. Aujourd'hui, c'était un bien jour. J'ai fait quelque nouveaux amis et j'ai fait quelque 'meilleurs' amis... Le fait est que pendant notre vie, il y aura des jours comme aujourd'hui - spontané, mais les mieux de nos vies. La vie quotidienne! Mais j'ai peur que je suis la seule personne qui peut se sentir ça. J'ai peur comme tout le monde, que on est seulement la personne qui comprend l'importance de 'maintenant'.
Mes cheveux est encore mouillés. Mais je suis très fatigué.

I wish for so much. And I know not much.

Substance

I haven't done this for a long time. Blog because I'm sleepless.

Would I want something like soma in this world?

Would I be OK with a perfect and just robot master?

... These books I'm ingesting, of course I wish I could share it with someone. Josiah is great on that, so glad to have him as a friend.

And why are we sleepless?

Is it physical, mental, both? The messy complicated both is probably always the answer.

I had a great time with Grace before she leaves, but after every 1-1 I have with people, without fail I would feel something unanswered or unsaid, and yet I still long for these conversations, maybe because I always feel that lingering hunger for...

For substance.

It's what I think drives Karen as well. That hunger for something... real, meaningful, impactful... no matter how many synonyms, substance is really the word I'm looking for. Weight as opposed to lightness. Kundera makes a good case that what we fear isn't heaviness... things like grief and fatigue, even though they are painful. It is routine, hedonism, airiness and meaninglessness that scares us...

And it's this substance I'm missing right now. What Steele thought was ennui and boredom, but I feel that it runs deeper than he describes... he wants drive, purpose and passion, he wants something to wake up to and tire from. I want it too Steele. And no lies, I feel sometimes that having someone to care for would fulfill that purpose for me.

So now, buried in my books... I dredge on longingly. Et la nuit continue. 

Brave New World

So many themes in this book, and precious little time I have to blog since I have to do my last few french assignments. I'll probably fall back to starting a post and procrastinating until I've already run out of fresh thoughts and good things to say (why I have no confiance en soi as a writer).

^As expected, I'm only writing this now, having lost all motivation to talk about the book since picking up Asimov's I Robot. Brave New World was a very good read that was compelling and engaging philosophically at every turn. The dichotomy between John Savage's beliefs and those of the inhabitants of 'civilization' were not just big-picture but strikes someone as personal, going in their irrational core of what is good and what is wanted. You'd probably have to catch me right after reading the book (and short stories of Asimov) though because I lose my thoughts to my unconscious so quickly as the Summer draws... to a close.

Life has to go on

"Human life occurs only once, and the reason we cannot determine which of our decisions are good and which are bad is that in a given situation we can make only one decision; we are not granted second, third or fourth life in which to compare various decisions." ~The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

I am reminded of what my roommate said before about the source of sadness. He shared his idea that sadness manifested in our dreams and imagination, He said our ability to contemplate what could have been, had we done this or that. is sadness. Perhaps he was inspired by book I quoted above and which he gave me as a present later.

I lived life happily then, if that were true, because I didn't look back, I took the imperfections as implicit in our decisions and circumstance. Life goes on, as Robert Frost puts it, perhaps tragically. But it's all really dramatic isn't it. Maybe it's summer that gets me in this mood more than winter for others. So much time and still no time.

It's painful to remember the fear in other people's eyes and behavior. When she sat across, when she leaned on me and then jerked away (maybe it was just my shoulder blades). Do you realize how painful that is? What is it that they're scared of? The answer I guessed is painful. You are left with a conundrum to put your best foot forward or share like they wanted you to.

It's always bitter sweet to watch a choir perform, because of the aforementioned fake-nostalgia-sadness-thing-that-my-room-mate-said. I'm reminded of the choices, not going to VJC where I would have been an assured Tenor, trying but failing to get into RJC's choir (and student council for that matter), writing my sad little goodbye (very dramatic, very pretentious) because I knew. I knew then that the people who carried on the tradition of singing would find themselves their family there, their happiness and identity, and I would walk away into the woods by myself, with my camera, and a pinch of angst.

But life has to go on.

It will. and I'll say it, with the rock and jazz playing in the background. It doesn't wait for us, time. It shoves on relentlessly with the others, churning the coincidences, and I can't wait.

Li Keen Alone

In my head I've blogged a thousand times.

But some stubborn ambition to write in French, and some stubborn fear of vulnerability again.

I'm pretty stubborn. Not that stubborn.

Barely anyone has used my real name in a long time... and so I've come to... j'ai su...it's power. The last time it was used was by Ben, which wasn't surprising since he's Singaporean, but then my French professor also used it in a confusion over my name. What I've come to realize is it's... split personality. It's not just a name, as only those attune to their intuition would comprehend. It is an era... Leeks! has an exclamation mark for a reason! It's hysteria, it's positive madness, it's fuck it let's do this! I recently asked Grace if she thought, as some do, that people had a 'core', some natural personality that we either discover or repress, she didn't think so. I don't think so. But it's pseudo-there. It's the condensation of your history, it's your experience that cools over time...you don't start with one, but you will get one...I've got one.

It's Li Keen Alone.

As usual I digress and jump around in my thoughts. I'm reminded of a brotherhood event... the details cannot be revealed but it's enough to say that I shared about Li Keen Alone. The camera (Daphne) wielding observer, the person who read(s) and wish he had the patience for more, the poet, the In Each Hand A Cutlass and Explosions In The Sky fan. The reason my MBTI is both I and E.

On a side-note, do you know that feeling of saying or typing your own name? When you say it in your head... that awkward, alien-ness to it? I guess some people don't feel it, the way they post "what are some typical ____ lines"; I have no trouble saying I, or filling my name on a test... but to call out my name, in my head...

Mais...la vraie raisonne pour ce post(?)

Ok everything's honestly a reason to post.

But the impetus, the milestone was finishing The God of Small Things.

I'm losing steam as I type.

The title appealed to me immensely... but I jumped into it thinking it was going to be an American Gods magical realism novel, and it isn't/wasn't. (People recommend based on what they've shared they've read, so I thought it was a link to Kafka/Murakami, j'oublie que j'ai aussi partagé mon histoire avec Kite Runner et Curious Incident.)

It made the first few chapters hard to swallow... difficult to follow...I'll read tomorrow...it's a book I borrow... ok I'll stop now...sorrow.

But it definitely grew on me, and now I've thought Two Thoughts:
1. I need to read Bridge  to Terabithia
2. I've forgotten so much of Kite Runner...
The latter is not uncommon, I can barely remember phantom tollbooth, save for a lingering good feeling... save for a memory of happiness and emotion. This pains me immensely... that I/we so easily forget except for some small/big things, and emotional memory. It's true, I can't remember 1984 as well as Animal Farm either. Was it a waste? If you're happy in a dream, does it count? This I guess, is what underlies photography... searching for those nuggets... the small things.

But of course they matter. What's in your working memory is but a fraction of your being. Somewhere in that messy subconscious, BFG, Enid Blyton, a just thought of a book and then lost it, thereby ironically proving my point somehow(?) they all mix around in a cocktail, rojak, whatever  you want to call it. Tuesdays with Morrie, that's the one...

I think it's time I go to bed. 21 chapters later, and I've left with Li Keen Alone, Two Thoughts, a Person-Shaped-Hole-In-The-Universe.

#81 The God of Small Things
Why not. It was a good book.
I intended to just have an umbrella 'books' thing, but it doesn't really do justice to the splendor and uniqueness of every book I've read...
Cheers to a book that saw me through some summer evenings; it'll be remembered here in a list of small things...