Friday, October 14, 2005 // 3:20 AM

it's too late to take back the thoughts because i've already have them

i. i know what the world tells me, about being in control, about some sort of winner, that i could be. sigh, i don't know, i am insufficiently childish to be rebelling for the sake of rebelling anymore, now i'm just... tired, really. i've used the word tired more times in the last one week than i have all year i think. i want to be human instead of a Potential Success Story, i want to step off the pedestal that has been waiting for me and expose myself for my own stupidity and inability and mundanity. i would like that liberation, of having no one in particular to be, i would like to be a person instead of an identity, a human being instead of an idea. this might be news to no one but me, but expectation, real or otherwise, gosh i am tired of saying things, i am fed up, i'd just like a simple and mindless occupation, once in a while. a good floorball game with no one caring about the outcome, me and the grand piano, half darkness, no audience. audience is only good when audience is as big a part of the experiment as me (a voice, a chorus, a drum beat, a guitar riff). i've been through the analytical process and now at least now i'd like to put it down, forsake it for something just purely visceral. you know, when you told me to stop thinking so much, what were you saying, exactly, were you expecting the extra energy would somehow go nowhere? did you think that i was straining myself with some sort of extra effort, to think things into a mess, like that was my intent? if it was, it was only on the tapestry of my subconscious, over which i have no control and for which i claim absolutely no responsibility. cos i have news for you, i am a lazy, lazy human being, i don't think i would expend all that energy on a process, any process, unless i felt like i couldn't stand things otherwise. i don't know why i feel so pent up sometimes, when i shut the pandora's box on my head, when i stop myself, halfway, like marvin and how he firewalls our conversations, stamping them condemned like rotten fruit in a supermarket, unfit for consumption, inappropriate for little minds, pick a topic, he says, and i would feel patronised if not for how he does that perpetually, as a sort of signal that he has nothing more to say. sometimes i can live with myself and sometimes i can't; sometimes i want out of my skin and sometimes, really, there is no where else i would rather be.

i've remembered why i ran from this company. this whole watching my step, this whole having the answer for every last thing. geez. get me out of here. maybe this is my fault, like how liz said, i Affected (infected) Everyone And Then Got The Heck Out Of There. sigh. i apologize, i think so too, but i was only pretending to be unaffected myself. my jumping ship, is that so terribly irresponsible? jumping ship is not the same as Not Caring About You Anymore. i just can't operate on the same terms as before, i have left and i am glad. that's the thing, you see, when you keep your damn mouth shut no one can possibly guess how terrified you are. i felt like a train-wreck, that was my Crashing, you witnessed it but you didn't know what was going on, and i don't blame you at all. the dramatisation, could i have avoided all my trouble if i had, what, tried a little harder? fortified the walls of my ice castle? what is drama, anyway, is drama not but a cacophony of human emotion, is fiction less than a glimpse of the human being. and don't we all qualify as human beings? sigh. who knows, maybe, maybe my emotions are real and maybe they are not, you don't actually know any more than i do, your amplification theory, like my violence theory, is just another theory, theory upon theories that really make no matter to me. i think. i think i'd like to let go of the reins now, and not turn back.

by the way, everyone should go watch quidam because it was some freaking gorgeous sublime and well worth every last cent. calling it a Stunning Performance or Really Good Acrobatics would cheapen it, severely, even with words and phrases like Powerfully Graceful/ Gracefully Powerful etc thrown in, geez i can't do this, just go watch it already, so we can rant about it together. xinyi! ella wants to run away and join the circus too :) i think i'm completely biased because at some points i was watching it more in my capacity of being a gymnast than being an audience, and i am just blown away by the strength and the fluidity and the motion and the everything. helloooo. tell me this is easy, tell me that talent makes this easy. fong and i are disagreeing over how big a part Talent has to play, in this picture.

kid, looking at you, i realise really how much of a kid, i am. jc, jc is full of Kids, really, people looking nothing like the Real World that i see in your eyes. is that the Real World,in your chapped hands, in your impersonality? you know, i think we've all been getting it wrong, all this while, and i blame it on all this meaningless education, the subtlety of things, how we come so close to thinking that hey we haven't been brainwashed, bullshit, our minds have been stacked up like dominoes, an open road into our persons and into our pockets, use us while we are just captivated by this idea that we've got it good, that we're in control. i can't see beyond the bullshit, but i have a hunch that it's just more mountains of bullshit, american bullshit, chinese bullshit, european bullshit, political bullshit. sigh, sigh, no one wants to educate for education's sake anymore, must we really have an agenda? a purpose? a conviction? don't answer that, don't answer that please. the more you think into things the easier it is to be convinced that every road is a dead end and we should all just go jump off a building right now.

and honesty, honesty's really a complicated thing, a fragile thing, if you think hard enough about it. if you second guess yourself like i do. if you perpetually wonder if you're being honest even with yourself, at every given point of time. what is truth does it exist does it even matter, really, what was honesty's point again? sometimes a conversation can drone on and on and on and on without honesty being a part of it, and that has got to be the most tiring thing. honesty, honesty can become a facade too, oh irony, oh fatality, every once in a while you need to shake things up in your head, like rattling the contents of a vending machine, and hope that it spits some honesty out. something alarming, something disarming. so, so maybe People are never going to come to a point where Nothing Surprises, Anymore.