in the dead of the night.
written: 12:48 a.m. on Tuesday, May. 03, 2005

One.
No Taipei; fine. But I want Shanghai. They have Metersbonwe over there, a.k.a The Jielun Clothing Store. You buy a shirt and they put it in a bag with his face plastered on it and you carry it back to Singapore and you show it off and Singapore Jielun fans think you're so cool when the truth is, Metersbonwe is China's Giordano and it doesn't really matter in the long run.

But Metersbonwe, fuck. Zhou Jielun, dammit. And Shanghai would be a ticket that lets me escape from this country, even if it's only for a while. I can't envision being stuck here forever; it's akin to being strapped into a straitjacket and left in an asylum under lock and key for the rest of your pathetic, meaningless and pseudo-life.

Two.
I hate this country, a realisation that fully dawned upon me only a few hours ago. It's more than my anti-establishment inclinations; it's simply everything about me, everything about Singapore, and how we're two like poles of a magnet that can never find a common space in which we'd stop repelling.

Three.
So what is better then? Where is the 'other side' on which the grass is supposedly greener?

My answer: I don't know.

But one thing is for sure: That 'other side' bloody well exists and I'm going to find it one day.

Four.
I wish I could be less critical of others, less cynical, more compassionate towards my fellow human beings, no matter how severe their short-comings when it comes to music, film, literature, arts and culture, political opinion or lack thereof, et al; I wish I didn't find it so instinctive to lambast others for listening to crappy dance music with nonsensical, meaningless lyrics and to see no wrong in it; I wish, still, that I weren't really me.

But then again, on second thoughts, why bother to euphemise when you can simply state the truth, the blunt truth and nothing but the truth? Why should I not criticise other people's abysmal and appalling taste in pseudo-music when I have as much of a right to tell them off for their ignorance as they have to continue indulging in it? Why should I regret that I am Me, The Almighty Genius, when the alternatives that I see around me aren't even worth my brain cells to consider?

Five.
I guess this is it then: I am arrogant, egotistical, narcissistic and wholly non-apologetic about any of it.

I am also empty. Directionless. My days are so idle that it makes me sick. I have lost that precious epiphany which injects meaning into life a long time ago. I shouldn't see life as a vast meaningless Blank at the young, tender age of Eighteen, but I'm sorry (even though I'm not), I can't help myself. Everything points to that, doesn't it? The only answer to the essential question that life poses to every one of us is Death, and that's it.

Six.
You wanna talk about religion?

For the sake of my sanity, do not even get me started.

Seven.
This may sound pretentious and it's probably pretentious as hell but nevertheless, I think I was born at the wrong time, for the wrong time. I feel like a spot of red in an ocean choked with whites and I'm not sure I even want to stand out. I find The Norm tediously banal, the people my age and their endeavours mind-numbingly superficial, and I will always be the goddess of my own altar.

Where do I fit in? Do I even belong in the most remote sense of the word?

I don't know. It's so little but that's all I can give right now.

Eight.
If loneliness could be painted, it would most probably look like a single drop of tear.

Nine.
Funny how the best poem I've ever written was written in 2002.

Funny how I'm not even trying to write anymore.

I'm really an abhorrent human being.

Ten.
I think I'll go re-watch Samurai Champloo. It is so deep and provocative, but I can't decide if I like it better than Slam Dunk, the series that got me into anime in the first place.

Speaking of anime: The right pronounciation is ah-ni-mei, not eh-ni-mei. Just like manga: mahngah as opposed to man-gah. A manga-ka is a man hua jia is a manga artist. Isn't that amazing? I think it is.

I've kind of figured something out as well, the whole Jin/Mugen thing. I like Mugen because he's the bad boy that females typically delude themselves into thinking they could tame; and I like Jin because he's the enigmatic, beautifully broken man that females typically yearn to heal by breaking him down. And I can't decide who I like better because the two of them represent the types of men that I've never been with; hence, both are intriguing as hell.

If I had to choose that gunpoint though, I'd probably choose Jin. It's the paleness of the skin; you can't possibly get any sexier and hotter than that.

Owari.
Life is a fucking meaningless bitch.

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