Thursday, November 17, 2005 // 1:39 AM

shamelessly middle class

and not feeling bad about it, not wanting to, not wanting to. this will hit me, this will reel around and smack me squarely in the face, all that disgust, all that self loathing, someday. maybe in university, some times i think, there's nothing more to Realise, but i know, at least in my head, that that's not true. and right now, Realisation is the last thing on my mind, it's been overtaken by a lot of feel-goods, by frivolity, by lots of gloriously meaningless laughter. right now i'm aik boon and i'm yelling parrttaaay or something like that, i'm exactly my age and exactly as completely, completely, frivolous.

soon i will feel like a terrible, terrible person. i me mine, i me mine, i me mine.

______________________

(Monday, December 13th, 2004)
i've been instructed not to sleep tonight, honolulu is eighteen hours behind. i can feel the jet lag already. i don't even know how and where to start packing. i want i want to be at the airport, and to just walk around the airport, in the middle of the night where every window you look out of will be dark. i want to stop at that little place where people stop and sit atop their cars and reach out their hands to the planes flying low overhead. landing or taking off. that's where i want to be, right now, when the plane is approaching or directly above you, you can scream everything into the night and nobody will ever be able to hear what you have said. between you and God, i guess, you and your tears, you and your frustrations. have i ever told you that i'm scared shitless of taking planes? well i am, and i'm afraid of that feeling too, it's the kind of place where you are and you don't want to be, the kind of thing that devours you in your most lucid state, you dont know which is the way out and how to stop yourself from going crazy. i don't know how to stop myself from going crazy, i guess that's why i have actively stopped thinking so much, i don't know how to stay in control. the crazy button, it's pretty close to the surface, with me.

while drinking my expensive coffee last now i was thinking about how the gift of Expression is a subtle thing, one of those gifts that you never appreciate until it's gone. because when you can't express what it is that's on your mind, you feel...claustrophobic, constipated, in a sense. and i think about how marvin said he likes to mull over stuff a lot, and i'm thinking of how i used to be like that, and how after a while i dont know any more, i remember the feeling of an endless eternity, both in sense of time and space, stretching out in front of you, sometimes the void is full of incomprehensible things and sometimes the void is astoundingly empty. and... that's how i felt, and that's why i started running, that's why i surround myself with the preppiest of details, the happiest-sounding of symbols. i don't believe my personality, personified, is a loud character, but certainly i am. certainly i am. nothing is a question of real or fake anymore, i remember saying to myself, i don't have to be true to myself to everyone else, all the time, but i have to be true to myself to myself, all the time. all the time. and that void, i remember the first time i felt it was filled was when yong was trying to explain some mathematical concept to me, something abstract and something extracurricular, she was saying something about how each line of numbers could be derived from the previous, and could subsequently determine the next, and how the line of numbers could go on forever and ever and ever, i remember seeing the lines and lines and lines of numbers stretching out behind my eyes to a backdrop of starry black eternity, scrolling and scrolling like something out of a star wars movie, and myself, the mind's eye, continually moving back, back, back, always to a larger and infinitely broader perspective, i remember too seeing the face of the mathematician as it was printed out that handout that she made me tack up the back of the classroom, how i put my head down on the table in the middle of her sentence and just felt that vastness of eternity, unable to discern if the void was the space in which i was in or the space that fills my mind, and also being unable to encompass them both, unable to decide which of the two was the more paralysingly terrifying.

so. so i am both afraid of falling, and afraid of hurling myself off the edge, i do that some times, do you know what that feels like? it's like seeing something you could never imagine face to face, for the first ever time, and sometimes you just feel like you'd rather die than have to face an entire lifetime of such experiences. and, and so i run, run motivated bu this terrorr, to stop myself from creeping to the edge and looking over, to stop myself from hurling myself off that cliff and out into a vast and endless spiral, my mind or the place in which i am.

(Saturday, December 25, 2004)
i'm a little terrorist sometimes. i really do think so. dying to enforce my beliefs on you, you, you.

(Monday, December 27th, 2004)
i ask myself about The Friends and where they have been, all this while. i think of people i probably once knew, but i won't even mention names of now. i dont want you to know i'm talking about you. for... whatever it is you must have become now, tell me there is more to people than this. shiny happy people having fun.

(Friday, December 3, 2004)
i have spent. ever so long unravelling myself, and undoing years upon years of damage, my entire existence has either been obsessed with construction (both bad and good) or destruction (both good and bad). my mind has been the wreck and the wrecking ball, right from the start, now that i have come so far i dont want to look back any more.

this sounds completely self-obsessed (and it is), but i liked how i was, in the transit stage, the crack between my Screwed Up Ness and what i've currently come to be. i read my archives from december 2004, and. and i think i like that girl a bit more than i like the girl that i am, right now.

______________________

i've had a Good Day, my skin tells me. the part of my skin that does not wrap around poetry, good music, good conversation, but rather, the hedonistic part of my skin that is in part socialising and endless consumerism. i should have gone cycling, even with the slick shiny roads, even with the time being eleven and my having a piano lesson at nine in the morning tomorrow. i'm searching, i'm searching for. for something i won't forget, tomorrow, which, with me, is something that has got to be beautiful.

fong is going with me to melbourne! where we will shop and hopefully scuba dive and et cetera, and her company is making the prospect of this trip a lot more exciting. but, but i want the time enough, to wander around the city streets on my own, i want to spend my time on art museums and live music, i'm sorry for how arty farty this sounds, but, but. i'm such a sucker for the things like these.

i want someone to drive me around in a convertible, long roads and cold night air. i think i shall, sneak down to my piano, try and find something that feels real, for at least a moment.