this entry is better than many others.
written: 9:26 p.m. on Thursday, Dec. 23, 2004

A few things to say:

1. Writing has become not just tedious, but extremely onerous. The words are scarcely flowing, and when they do, they aren't flowing right. How is it remotely possible that the words that appear onscreen take me in a totally different direction than what I'd planned in my head? Am I not seeing movies in my head enough? After all, that was how I used to write, way back in secondary school: translating mental pictures and scenery into the written word, so that what I tried to convey at least had some semblance to a story, and perhaps even pretty good writing (for that age, anyway; now I think they're pretty crap). I need to see before I can write; similarly, I need an idea before I can start seeing. And I do have an idea, but it's such a rough one that I don't know how to go about concretising it and making it a solid story. And I'm only writing a Slam Dunk yaoi (boy/boy relationship) fic, based on Formula 17's theme song. It's BASED ON A SONG. The premise and everything have basically already been laid out for me.

And maybe that's precisely the problem. It's not my own idea, it's not original, I don't feel sufficiently connected to the plot. Or maybe the problem's even more deeply entrenched than I'd initially thought: I think my hiatus, so to speak, from writing fiction has been a bit too long. I think I've truthfully forgotten how to write. And truthfully, I think I've lost faith in even Literature as well. So I guess this will be my epitaph: 'Faithless save for when it came to herself.'

Even so, I'm losing faith in myself too. The writing. If I can't write, I'm nothing. It's been the only that I've been able to hang on to for as long as I can remember. It's a security blanket, something to reassure me that I'm not a complete waste of space, since I never excelled in academic stuff before JJC (and even in JJC, I didn't exactly do that well either; it was only relatively well, and look at the type of people I had for "competition"; excuse me while I laugh). It was what defined me, even; teachers raved about my English assignments in secondary school, and that was how some people from the other classes knew of me. But in JC, the assignments ceased to be creative-based, and became more knowledge-based and academic-based instead. Maybe that was what choked me.

But how can I blame it on anyone but myself? I chose to stop, didn't I? Even the pseudo-poetry have lost whatever veneer of poeticism they once had. How can anyone not have time to write if one is truly passionate about it?

Maybe that's it, then. The passion isn't enough. Maybe I'd really die a complete cynic, scoffing at everything, believing in nothing, caring for even less. You see, I'm nothing without writing and the ability to write, however limited that ability is, if it exists at all, and right now, I cannot even begin to describe how frustrating it has been, attempting to write that stupid fic. And it's just a fic, not a goddamn novel, least of all a Russian novel.

Seriously. And my Chinese? How am I supposed to balance it out? I can't let my Chinese die the insidious death that began in the year 2000, but I don't know how I'm going to rectify that and get back into the writing again. And I don't think I can convey enough how I'd love to write something in Chinese without referring to the English-Chinese dictionary every five words.

I just hope that I'm not too late. Taipei would do me good, but try telling that to the parents and the grandparents, who are convinced that I'd get raped or mugged or murdered if I walked the streets of Taipei along at night. There is some truth to their paranoia, but it doesn't mean that I should completely cease to live because of the dangers that lurk at every single corner. Going by that argument, I needn't even go back to Taiwan anymore, since plane crashes have happened quite a number of times before in the past.

But I digress. Let's not talk about that right now.

**

2. I found out today that the Bukit Gombak Community Centre, which is located in the middle of the HDB estate at Hillview, where I used to play basketball before the A Levels took over my life completely, has been demolished. I went by there today with Mel, and from a distance, I saw a huge tractor surrounded with a massive ring of debris and broken-down concrete.

God, it's depressing. Not only was it the nearest basketball court, hence making it the most accessible one, it was also one of my more likable haunts. As in, I really liked the place. It wasn't too crowded, and it was also where I met that basketball kid whom I tried to help way back last year. He's already moved, of course; last time I saw him was in December last year, and my obdurate pride prevented me from speaking to him. I know, it makes no sense, but that's just how I am: full of nonsense.

And with the community centre, the HDB flats would all go too. What would take their place then? More condominiums? I'm sick of condos; they all look alike anyway. Upgraded HDB flats? Even worse than condos; they don't even manage to look anything like condos, however hard they try, and every estate just looks like the next one down the road.

It's just kind of sad. I never really spent a lot of time there, but I spent quite a number of days of my June 2003 holidays playing basketball at the community centre and getting a can of nice iced jasmine green tea after a tiresome workout from one of the few provision shops located downstairs, below the flats, and I also used to go to one of the two clinics there, both of which had moved a long time ago.

I have memories attached to that place, and the whole estate, in fact. But this is exactly like Kinmen, isn't it? My sentimentality necessitated this part of the entry and instigated the slight sense of loss I felt when I looked at the demolished community centre. But why should I live in a condominium and they, the old residents of the Hillview HDB estate, in very run-down flats that are probably even older than me? Why should I enjoy a higher standard of living than them?

It's all sentimentality at the end of the day, really. We don't really need preservation. It's not practical; and individual memories? Who cares when there's no national value to these memories?

Isn't that what makes the world go round? Nation above self, right? But don't we all live by the 'self above all else' doctrine, however sub, even un, consciously so? I know I do. And that's why I wish that the Hillview HDB estate could stay there forever.

**

3. Basketball. Went over to Mel's today; finally got to use the court at around 6, after the kids there have finished playing their game (we walked to the Hillview HDB estate precisely because the court was occupied). I got extremely tired after like five stupid field goals. It was just pathetic. And it was after about like seven missed shots or more that I finally began to get shots in.

I'm proud to say that I had a few nice 'nothing but nets' though. Haha. I bet they were mere flukes, but hey, an unathletic girl with a rare interest in basketball can dream, can't she? Yes, I think so; I'm allowed the privilege of having my delusions, because I said so.

But basketball. What can I possibly say? It felt damn good to be playing again, even though I was as shitty as before; worse, actually, since my stamina quickly deteriorated from not exercising in about six months. After the tenth successful shot, my arms felt like they were about to fall off from the arm sockets. And it took me ten million years to get one more basket in before Mel and I left the court. I just couldn't control the direction of the ball. Seriously, holding the ball above my head and aiming at the rim was so amazingly painful that I just...I can't even begin to tell you how absolutely disgusting my shots were. Some barely grazed the rim, while others just flew right over the basket (shot from the two sides, as usual; my favourite positions, because I can't play for nuts). Nice pass, right Mel? Yeah, I think so too.

When the last shot finally got in I shot from somewhere between the middle, ie. the free throw line, and the sides. I was a bit surprised, but then again, it was just a fluke, so...yeah.

I actually like basketball quite a lot. I've liked it, in fact, ever since I was 13, when I was obsessed with the Backstreet Boys, particularly Nick Carter, and liked whatever they liked. Haha! It was absolutely stupid, I know, but basketball is something that the present me have in common with the 13-year-old me. And I still remember that Indiana Pacers match, many years back, during the NBA finals: Reggie Miller's three-pointer. Really amazing. I think it won them the title too; correct me if I'm wrong though.

I love watching three-point shots. I think Mitsui has a lot to do with it, since he's a three-point shooting machine with the most beautiful form in the world, but they're really cool. A three-pointer not as glamorous and showy as a nice full-powered slam dunk, but it's elegant in its quiet, subtle power and grace. And a three-pointer that hits nothing but net, ie. does not touch the rim before it goes in, has to be the most beautiful basketball move ever.

Besides, long-range shots are more difficult than lay-ups and jump shots in the paint and all. At least, to me, they are.

Then again, everything is difficult when it comes to basketball so I don't think I should be the one saying this. I can't even shoot from the free throw line!

So that's basketball. I made about 19 shots before I finally died; a far cry from the 100 I used to do. I really have to exercise more.

**

4. Random:

a) Mel's place was brilliant. I loved her hamsters! The grey dwarf, which is the same specie/breed as my beloved Bucky which died on 5 October, 2000, is so fat and cute! It looks like a tiny grey furball when it's all curled up, or when it's cleaning itself. Aww! I love hamsters. I wish I could keep them again but my dad would totally haemorrhage if that happens. And my mom would end up cleaning the cages again, since I'd be too lazy to, so I guess it's not a very good idea.

And watching Mel rollerblade with such ease made me want to learn as well. She kept asking me to try on her blades but NO. I'd just die of embarrassment and fright. I gotta get mine back from Jesselyn; it's been with her since time immemorial. Maybe I'd even pop by her house and play with her cats. It's been a while since I last saw her anyway, and I do owe her a birthday present, so yeah.

But my point is, Mel rocks and I love her. She walked with me to the Hillview HDB estate area for nothing. Isn't that great? I think it is.

b) I almost watched The Bachelor because there is absolutely nothing worth watching on TV. God, what was I thinking? What an utterly brainless show. I watched Las Vegas on Monday and had no idea what was going on. The only pull factor for me was the cute lead actor, but even that's not enough. It really sucks not having anything to watch when you're free, and having a number of programmes to watch when you're having exams.

c) Called MOE today to ask if there're any jobs available. The woman on the other end asked me to mail her my resume.

Uh, what resume? The school did go through the process of writing one with us during a civics period, but they chose to do it in August/September 2004, a time when I was only concerned about nailing the A Levels and not so much about getting a job. Hence, I have no idea how a resume looks like, let alone how to write one. Great. And Borders is only hiring next year, which is only about a week away...oh, I don't know. I really want to work at Borders though. I've been thinking about it for months already. Maybe I'll just go down on Jan 3 and ask for a job.

Right, we'll just see, yeah?

d) Shopping tomorrow for a dress to wear to the pseudo-prom. I hope Raffles City would yield more results than Parkway and Orchard.

e) I want to watch Nobody Knows. That Japanese film whose child actor won the Best Actor award at this year's Cannes Film Festival, beating Tony Leung Chiu Wai? Yes, that one. I also want to watch Kung Fu Hustle. And...Meet the Fockers, as appalling as that sounds. I find that I no longer have the mood to stomach gory films like Saw nowadays and tend to go for more light-hearted stuff, Nobody Knows being an exception.

Then again, after the exams have ended, I have been shying away from serious issues. I don't read the papers anymore, except for Life!; even that commentary thingy in the Review section of The Straits Times about the continued depreciation of the US dollar didn't hold my attention beyond like two paragraphs of the article. And Time magazine just named Bush as The Person of the Year, so I may terminate my subscription to my favourite magazine; if that happens, I wouldn't have access to quality journalism anymore (you could hardly call most local news articles that, to be honest; even I wrote better in secondary school). But seriously, Bush as its Person of the Year? How disappointing, how appalling, how wrong. What the hell is an American Revolutionary anyway? I guess Bush fits the description if we want to talk about how he revolutionised America's foreign policy in such a radical way that it is the hottest target of terrorist organisation and how it is fuelling anti-American sentiments in many countries, Asian and European alike. He also fits the bill if we're talking about how he's almost encouraging the return of religious fundamentalism with his anti-gay marriages and anti-abortion stance, mixing religion with politics in a supposedly secular country. Yes, I guess he is a revolutionary.

God, gag me with a kitchen knife. I'd rather see Osama's face on the cover. I think. I don't know.

But my point is, after the exams, intellectual debates and the like kind of turn me off. I guess I've had enough. 3 months of near-intensive studying has worn me out.

And I'm thinking about something. Formula 17, right? Check this out:

Xiaotian: ~{0.~}...~{R2;aMK0!!#~}
Richard: ~{DGNRCGE?lR;5c#,0QK|W7;X@4~}.
Xiaotian (a moment of silence, followed by a sly smile): ~{NR=EKaAK!#~}
Richard: ~{NR13Dc!#~}

Bad English translation:

Xiaotian: But love will also fade.
Richard: Then we'll run faster and chase it back.
Xiaotian: My legs are tired.
Richard: I'll carry you.

Isn't it cute? I think it is. How nice it would be, if we could keep running and chase it back.

And how unrealistic too. After he carries you, he'd drop you once he's tired, because you are too heavy for him to carry you on his back forever. Even if you're cute and innocent like Xiaotian is, that's what gonna happen.

And I know that because I just do. And that's what I believe.

So much for being faithless, eh? I have faith that love will not last. In fact, I have complete faith in the fact that it does not, and never will, exist for me.

But first, why the hell am I back to this stupid topic? I just can't stop thinking about Formula 17 though. It is about as deep as a wading pool, but it's so infectious, pure and innocent that you just completely fall in love with it.

And that kind of simple love depicted in the movie merely makes me examine my situation. The cynicism can get rather draining.

Okay, the entry didn't turn out the way I'd envisioned, and it's getting really long; it's 10.33 p.m., and hence, I've spent more than hour writing this. I think I'll go try to write/continue that fic now. I can't put it off forever. And if I really get into the swing of things again, I might just attempt an original.

Jeez, the laptop's getting pretty hot. I so need a PC.

this entry, like many other entries of late, requires chinese simplified encoding

before sunrise // before sunset


Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010