head vs. heart.
written: 3:36 p.m. on Sunday, Mar. 06, 2005

I'm all excited now and ready to go, but because I'm me, I'm procrastinating like shit right now; hence this entry.

But on the downside, I just found out that NUS' Faculty of Law is not part of the Scholars Programme. BAH! I wanna go for the Law interview, just for fun. In fact, I wanna go for all the interviews that I can possibly be shortlisted for, just for fun! Hahahahahaha.

God, what am I doing? Unlike most people, I have absolutely no idea what I want to do as an adult, ie. what I want out of a career. What career? I don't even want to think about that but I don't have a choice do I?

Well, I kind of lied, actually; I do know what I'd love to do, but that option is no longer as viable as I'd thought it would be 3 years ago. Like I said yesterday, there's no way in hell (or rather, in Singapore) that I can marry money and Literature and live happily ever after; that's an illusory fantasy cooked up by an idealistic fool riding on the words of those around her who falsely told her that she had a 'talent', that it actually meant something, because I don't think it does. Assuming for a minute that those people are right and that I do have a talent in writing, who the fuck cares how well you can write? Nobody's going to pay you to write a bunch of soppy, crappy poetry and pages after pages' worth of meandering prose passages whose meaning is so fucking subtle that no one ever gets it in the end. Such things do not sell, and unless you're a commercialised hack like J. K. Rowling who writes like an adolescent whose have-read list does not extend beyond a bunch of trite nursery rhymes, you're always going to be...well, not rich, if you choose to write for a living.

Why do I want to be rich? Because I love money, because I want a big house, because I want my parents to live in comfort and not have to worry about medical expenses when the moment arrives. Fuck, money may not solve everything, but it solves many things; and for people who're not rich, who do not live in eternal comfort and luxury, 'many things' is more than enough to satiate them and keep them happy, because it is a step above 'some things', or 'a few things', all the same.

And to be honest, I don't lack in any other departments save for the monetary one. For sure, I'm not dead poor, or even anywhere below middle-middle-class; but all the same, I'm not rich either. And anyway, I'm sure we're all very well acquainted with the materialistic me by now, and I'd love to go on a shopping spree once every week and buy whatever my heart fancies and not have to worry about money. It must feel nice to have the power to spend endlessly.

So basically, my point is this: The one thing I know that will get me out of bed isn't an option anymore, simply for the reason that it's impractical as hell. Maybe I could do it as a side thing if I become a rich and powerful person, but as long as that hasn't materialised, forget the hell about it.

Sorry, 16-year-old self, but fuck your stupid ambitions.

Right, anyway, enough univerisity talk. What I really wanted to write in today's entry is that I've finished reading "A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters" and I'm pleased to announce that although I love it to bits and I am blown away by Julian Barnes' genius, I do not understand it.

Okay, so it has something to do with religion and woodworm and Noah's Ark and the fabrication of history, but what's the connection between all these elements that will reveal Barnes' intention? From chapter "Project Ararat", I got the feeling that he's pretty much against religious fanaticism, and I'm almost certain that he's either agnostic or atheistic. But then again, what was with chapter "The Mountain", the whole thing about that religious woman and the hill falling down upon Noah's village (Aghuri, if memory serves; it's ag-something. I'm too lazy to look up the spelling) or whatever?

Still, I think the last chapter was amazing and so true. Christians will disagree with me, but nevertheless, the notion of religion being real because the mind makes it so, because of our staunch belief in something that cannot be scientifically proven - it's so true.

Also, I noticed that his style was different in the last chapter as compared to the preceding chapters; it was simpler, more informal, basic English that the common layman will understand, and it was first person narration. Why, for hell's sake, why?

Oh, I don't know. I was going to type something after that but on second thoughts, it sounded too much like I was over-analysing, so...

In short, though, I love love love Julian Barnes to shred. I think a huge part of my not fully getting it has a lot to do with my shoddy historical knowledge of the events that were described in the book, and of course, my non-existent biblical knowledge. But hell, the first chapter was hilarious, even blasphemous, in fact. Sill, he's obviously not anti-religion; it never got as scathing as that.

The thing about Mr. Barnes is that he always has these great, profound takes on some really complex concepts that many people subscribe to. Reading his books is such an amazing experience, I swear; the way he provokes thought, the way he presents his own ideas in such a subtle way that you can never accuse him of being didactic - it's breath-taking. I'd love to meet him one day, or just write him a fan mail. Haha.

Hell, if I really majored in Lit, I'd do my thesis paper or whatever on him, no doubt. There's so much you can say about him and his books!

Well, anyway, now that I'm finally done with the book after like three whole months, I've got started on Chuck Palahniuk's "Diary"; I like it so far. It's darkly comedic, humorously depressing, and the best part? There's an actual plot to follow. As much as I love "A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters", sometimes I didn't feel like going on to the next chapter because all chapters aren't, you know, directly connection. Yes, there's a link, of course - that thing about woodworm and Noah's Ark. But it's certainly not a conventional novel where you have plot, characterisation, dialogue, climax, intention - it's more lik, you know, an intellectual work of fiction, written in brilliant prose. Things like that.

But that's the precise reason why it's so brilliant, if you want my honest opinion. Reading Julian Barnes is brain orgasm, no shit.

"Diary" though, is entertaining and fun, and we all need entertainment and fun once in a while. It also helps that Chuck P. (I can't spell his freakin' last name!) writes in a very curt, succinct manner, almost like lines from a screenplay. It's refreshing.

After I'm done with this book, I'm off to re-discovering Charles Dickens again, starting with "Great Expectations". It's a bit thick but I'm sure I'd get through it.

Well, I sure hope so. I know how short my attention span is and how I'm not particularly fond of the classics, which is really bad, I know. I should probably read "Ulysses" (I can't spell) and Homer's "Iliad" (I can't spell) before I die, and Tolstoy's "War and Peace", which is about as thick as my Longman Comtemporary Dictionary, and even Eliot's "Middlemarch".

Sigh. Now I'm so tempted to major in Lit. BAH! Why does our world suck?

Fuck the world for trampling upon my heart.

(That didn't make sense, I know.)

World, you win. I'm just another tiny, insignificant pawn on your selfish chessboard. Rape me now.

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