Measure Me.

Trying to get a job.

And yet, Simpsons. Beckons me to it’s intellectual sponge. A very dry sponge. It saps my mind juices.

Just finished drafting the letter to my godfather.

Working at World of Sports wouldn’t be too bad. I think. My dad might flip though. Indicative of my poor future prospects or.. something.

I guess i’m finally looking up from the ground. Tentatively though.

Very, very tentatively.

The spaces between my lines are becoming oppressively large and well-gapped. Gapped. New word. I feel like Will Shakespeare. Almost. Perhaps i shall follow in his footsteps? Unlikely. As the light of my near-to-be future fades.

It’s saddening to know that my being is dictated by numbers and the first few letters of our english language. My identity is given to me by society, and the one that was born with me, fused within my sentience, is rejected by this very same society.

My CHARACTER and PERSONALITY has been defined. How bloody awful. I have been limited within definition.

Flag-day

So tired. Went to Shawn’s place to break today. First time in ages.

Hurt like fucking hell.

Now. I’m back in my roost. Watching Star Wars again. Chilling. Going to read Brisingr later. And thank god.

There aren’t any residual feelings left. No more emotion. No more disturbances in my awareness.

My experiment was a success then. I have attained a victory. I am now stronger in controlling my emotions, more apt to guard my soul and heart from hurt and hate. A sanity well protected.

Yes.

But.

If that is so. Why do i feel so… Perturbed?

Interesting. Love has blinded me.

2 Days

It’s. Just, so sad.

How human life is dicated by the nimble whims and fancies of mere tremulous emotion. When logic and reason, so highly prized, becomes overwritten as easily as a palimpsestic aesthetic piece.

Easily.

Very, very easily.

And what happens when a life is swayed by mere emotion? Why. Chaos. And death of an intellectual soul. For by pure irrational emotion, we are nothing more than mere animals. Beasts. Urban-rats crawling in the gloom of our own distasteful activities that possess little more meaning than digging in a dung pile.

I’m worried about yi min.

18 pull-ups. So far. That’s not bad considering i’ve been slack for so long.

Just came back from chalet yesterday. Not tired. Not drunk. Not anything.

Had black face because of… stuff. My experiment nearly came to a close yesterday. I think it’s over though. I really don’t know. Which is good. Or is it? I think i’m still in a position of control. Am i?

Am in school now. Passed Marcus the XP letters. Finally. Meeting Geovenn at J8 tonight, i think, to get the baselayer. Kind of bored. Going to the doctor’s later to get some steroidal cream, or at least try to, for my.. ‘love-bites’. Yes. Insectal love-bites. Horrible. Hopefully it works and i can pass it to, or get some for Shoes.

You’re beautiful. You know?

Leaving for the UK for 3 weeks on the 29th.

Hope i can leave everything and everyone behind for these 3 weeks. Please. I need a break. Just want to let myself go free for a while before being re-introduced to the shackles of living my life.

But i’m not saying my shackles are bad.

Some people carry crosses.

Number 90.

This is my 90th post.

Well, actually this doesn’t count. ‘Cause i imported all my other posts over from Blogger.

Lots of poems i’ve written that i’ve never read. Ha.

Bored.

Few more hours, and i’m free. Hopefully, within these few hours, i’ll be able to write my 3 best essays. Ever.

Freak.

Trying not to be nervous. Then all the theories and thoughts will spill and.. Gone.

Two more essays to read on the net, and a few on paper. I hope i know my books well enough. On the verge of freaking.

Damn It.

It’s going to start to burn.

Soon.

I see smoke coming out of my ears.

Really black smoke.

There goes my brain, or what’s left of it.

What.

My J-ones are home.

In failure, from what i hear.

Only a few girls might be considered having performed well, the guys an utter failure. Log Head came home earlier than the rest, rumored to have given up either because a) injury very bad, or b) no one listening to his instructions, and he despair and so on so forth.

I don’t know what to think now, really. I’m disappointed. Angry? Not yet. Not until i hear about some of the stupid things i think they might have done. And then what will i do? Shout? Lecture? HA.

I’m in no position.

I wasn’t a fantastic ODAC-er in my day either.

Guess i’ll just leave it alone.

Expect nothing.

The Devil’s Promise/ The Soul

Red, piping hot.
Ablaze with Life’s rawness.
Flaring against the rot,
Drying the throat, a thirst.

Aflame, a bonf’re.
The soul exults in the Ascension.
Forgoe Love; Forgoe the bonds within which you are mire’d.
They anchor you from true pow’r.

The Sun in your hands,
And the Moon at your feet.
Your voice will spread across the lands,
And your enemies will never meet.

Fire in your blood,
Darkness in your soul.
No sword will succeed to marr,
The full extent of this toll.

——————————————————————-

How far can we go in using Anger, without it using us? How far can can we plunge our soul’s into sheer and utter depths of Darkness, without becoming one with the Darkness?

How long can we endure the Night, with no hope of the Day’s coming?

How much more can we see of Death around us, before we fade away?

The soul has no limits. It’s just the shell that we are entrapped within. We are weaken’d as long as we live. And yet, our being alive is testimony to the full power of the soul. For our soul was made to endure, and endure it shall. Beyond even the fleshy limits of our bodies.

And thus, the gates open for us.

And, Again..

this… is my third post today. i guess i have a lot more to say than previously assumed.

I miss doing ropes.

I miss the feel of the harness, the snap of the carabiner. the subtle bite of the rope on my hand as i abseil down after a changeover, indicating rope burn later on in the day.

I miss just hanging there, feeling the wind as it passes through the tree next to the MPH, even if it threatens the overall well-being of my nuts.

But what i miss most of all…

Is the people i do ropes with. And the conversations we have while hanging up there, dangling by bits of cloth, metal and binded fibers.

Yeah.

Time is going to tear everything apart. It’s just going to rip it all to pieces, the places, the people, the memories. And it’s going to just ingest it like it’s done since the beginning of it’s existence. Since even before humans realized they could define change.

Time gives us life. And takes it away. It’s the ‘Away’ profile that God activates when he’s busy doing something else somewhere else in the big universe.

Yeah. Thats my take on it.

Now. I’m trying to stuff myself with loads of notes that Mrs sng uploaded on Colac.

Obviously, my brain is running rejection protocols. This sucks. Going to try reading the novel again later. Need to try and finish it by tonight. Tommorrow is BNW. Sunday, Poe. Monday morning, general revision of thesis’, philosophies, names. Proper digestion of all content within the next 2.5 days might ensure smooth sailing on Monday afternoon.

A measure to luck, however.

Aftermath of Over-Relaxation

Stopped studying. Just stopped. I’m not even sure i actually started in the first place.

Oh well.

What does it matter?

I had a conversation with Shoes in school yesterday (I think she mentioned this same event on her blog) about the relevance of grades in real life. Well, Singapore, mostly. Grades equals to money, through a very long linkage of other factors. But ultimately, it’s

MONEY.

I rest my case with another discussion i had with my mother. About whether Singaporeans’ study for the sake of studying, money, or the true blue pursuit of knowledge and higher learning.

Needless to say, my opinion was anything but the latter.

Our very existence is being dictated by monetary issues. Why? Because, somehow, somewhere, industrialization and modernization of living has resulted in an over-import of the currency system.

We’re doomed to enslavement by the dollar.

But does the grade make you who you are? No. But it does determine your survivability in this world. But what about the survivability of your, say, soul? Or higher intellect? For those who lack one, my apologies.

Or not. I don’t really care who i’m hitting with this.

Banishment

The Time-frozen chains,
Clinking and chinking in the deepest Dark.
Hear you? The cries of the slain?
The Dead walk, Death without a mark.

A tempest howls forth,
Raging across the dimpl’d plains.
Upheaving the land’s rage in frothy troth.
Against a backdrop of lightning’d rain.

Curl’d within the hidden recesses of awaken’d sight,
I lie. Hid and safe.
Want for nothing, needing nothing. Not even precious light,
That illuminates the mind, but at my soul, chafes.

The Dead scream into my ears,
A mournful, dreadful wail.
Echoing eternally in the doomed walls of my fears,
Against the ghastly noise my soul quails.

Of an end i have no thought,
Something golden that i had not sought.