Her languid hair was telling of the child within, smooth, sleek. Yet there was some sort of serenity in her smile. Something about it that left me satiated with a glean of her blitheness. I’ve had this gut feeling that her eyes could smile, radiating the winsome autumn peace that she longed for as the trace of her jasmine lingered in the air. Her doleful eyes never ceased to wither my heart.
Round the corridors, down the dank hallways, through the hasty metallic lockers, she never failed to liquidate the recesses of my frozen palpitations. The pulsating organ that was once there, it’s gone now, snitched that same day I discovered that her eyes did glisten under luminescence.
The veritable inclination to snatch a glimpse of the velvet rose was far too compelling, alike a rising crescendo against reason and good logic. And yes of course, screened intricately under the cover of erudite pretext.
She was my Vitamin C. A daily supplement without the penitence of Vicodin.
8 months into college life. Yet, the institution remains outlandish. Her presence was inimical to the nature of my work, but it undoubtedly gave the reassurance that the pestilent façade from academic austerity hadn’t converted too many. Mercenary acquisitive attitudes permeate the egocentric cultures of the vicinity, and it does scar the erudite sum and substance of the proximity. It’s not my psyche to decry these attitudes at whim, but truly, I do detest such dregs.
A nut in a sea of bolts recognizes himself as an alien. Indeed, I must be one of those idiots who choose the self-made path of solicitous fascism.
“The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
But I don’t feel the contrition. I can’t, for its acquiescence has been overrated. I’ll test the victory bells in my own panache.
“But just like the arrow leaving the bowstring, there’s no turning back until it reaches its target. We’re not very far from ours.”
From the quixotic mirage of February’s felicity, to the delirium of June’s freedom. August was desolate. September still seeks an answer. Dismal? Doleful? Life still goes on, though I concur that insanity’s often the logic of an accurate mind over-tasked.
Innumerable encounters had me prying my eyes away from hers. There was the fear that she could become cognizant of my thoughts, and my secrets.
“Nothing makes us as lonely as our secrets.”
It’s true. The darkness that flowed through the sins of my blood could never match her blessed charm.
Her cheeks of cherry blossoms were mild. And sweet.
“Somewhere there's someone who dreams of your smile, and finds in your presence that life is worth while. So when you are lonely, remember it's true: Somebody, somewhere is thinking of you.”
It eclipses the proximities’ galling defects.
A Page out of my Diary
26 September, 2008. 5:30pm.
I was juggling myself between both remedial classes. 5:30pm. Both had just concluded. I caught a glance of my fleeting rose in reposed slumber at B41. Her tender silhouette was pervaded by a dreamy languor. Silent, elegant, yet beguiling.
Somehow, this assures me that part of me hasn’t been fully extricated from her deliberate bindings. And part of her is fortuitously imbedded within the gravity of my soul.
25 seconds felt like 5. Someone square-rooted time.
She hasn’t noticed me. I shall leave before she wakes. Corporeal evidence of ambivalence at work.
5 days, 6 hours, 25 minutes and 12 seconds before Hell Week. It’s disquieting.
To be continued…
slashed at 11:31 PM .
Sunday, September 28, 2008 . Hours after and Before Hell
Hours before Hell
16 September 2008
10:40am.
Day 26 of my mugging schedule. Fridays are the second most dreadful days of the week. Tuesday is Friday today. I had four blocks in a row without as much as a breather, almost half a day in a 15m x 10m box. Zephyr was torturing my mental faculties at 16 degrees Celsius and enjoying it. Having slept for only 4 hours the night before did not help alleviate my condition, but somehow I felt the compulsion to stay awake during the physics lecture.
11:35am.
My shattered consciousness is surfeited with phase differences. Break is leading me by 5 minutes. I’ve this urge to combust my brain in excess oxygen, but I shall resist the temptation. In these testing times, people tend to find inadequacy in themselves, especially when a terabyte of memory space is less than enough to breeze through hell week. Maclaurin should be less portentous. Seriously. The paper chase has never been so real. And we do not ask why. When your paper is 3 hours long, you have no time for some questions, literally.
4:00pm
I’ve just finished crashing econs remedial. I’m crashing chem remedial now. It’s 2 hours before the walking fountains of wealth close for the week. (yes, knowledge is wealth.) I need to be more productive efficient than a sponge.
5:30pm
Remedial has ended. I caught a glance of my fleeting rose sleeping in B41. Everyone is drained nowadays, the system sifting our life’s energies away. 25 seconds felt like 5. Someone square-rooted time. I shall leave before her slumber ceases. 5 days, 6 hours, 25 minutes and 12 seconds before Hell Week. It’s disquieting.
Hours after Hell
26 September 2008
12:40pm
Been to hell and back. I shall adjust my wavelength to avoid bad frequencies of swearing and cursing. The worst was bad enough.
5:20pm
I’m stilling my mind in front of my computer as I write this. 8 months of JC life. All the fun and laughter and all the hectic rush. Looking back, what have we really gained? Maybe a few friends. Maybe a few real friends who would stick by you through thick and thin, through the most arduous journeys. Maybe a few crushes. Maybe that girl from the other class whom you’ve taken a liking for since the start of the year but never had the courage to get to know her. The undeniable truth? Time files. From the quixotic mirage of February’s felicity, to the delirium of June’s freedom. August was desolate whilst many woke up at the end of September. Dismal? Doleful? Life goes on. Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind over-tasked. But just like the arrow leaving the bowstring, there’s no turning back until it reaches its target. We’re not very far from ours.
slashed at 9:52 PM .
Saturday, September 27, 2008 . After Promos...
Haven’t blogged in a damn long time.. too long to be true. But it is. Wdv. LOL. promos just ended, and I’ve not been typing much. Typing speed is rather slow, accuracy sux so dere’s quite a lot of having to backspace and retype words yea.. lol.. wad to do.. not as many projects that require typing like in RI.. time files. Its almost a year since I left my home of RI, the times I spent. Ok, times already quite bad then. I hate ppl who backstab and I detest selfish ppl.. I had a good friend of mine turn into one of those creatures before, and there was nothing I could do. Only when I came to RJ did I see ppl from my class behaving in the same way. The world is screwed. Or is it just tt when ppl grow up, they start to think more about themselves than others? I don’t really mix with my class I realized, maybe it’s just cos we have different characters and different principles, and maybe its cos I don’t wanna become like them yea.. I know kyx is a nice guy ba.. hahax.. one of my close friends I could say.. from RI, used to be gep.. yups.. thanks for retaining what’s left of the unity and school spirit that we’ve cultivated over the 4 years of excellence, and for exhibiting qualities of a true rafflesian, something that’s waning and dissipating in many of us today.. I see in many of the people around me, selfish attitudes, always saving their own skin first, never hesitating to shirk away from blame, never trying to help others in need, and always striving for their personal benefit. “It has never been us, it has always been me.” Well, I do despise your f***ing character, and such is a disgrace to the name of Raffles. I am proud to be an RI guy. Its like this. You’ve the feeling of attachment to the school. When a fellow rafflesian on the streets needs help, you’ve that inclination to help him even though you don’t know him. that’s the kind of spirit. I don’t see it anymore in RJ. The rafflesian spirit is dead in RJ. Its gone. Maybe it exists in a few corners, still burning brightly in the hearts of you and me. Oh wells. That’s that. This round of papers were kind of badly done. I’m creating a study group. Me, simjoo n jiale for now. i will stop at here. no more recruiting members. i thought abt it ytd, kind of realized the loophole in the study group thingy.. cos ppl may just join and cope info and just dun contribute if we have too big a group. Theory of the masses by Malcom Gladwell in The Tipping Point. Shall not let that happen. Really hope we all can get straight As for nxt yr’s A’s. jiayoux. Luckily its my godbro and godsis I’m working with, so we wont have the possibility of any self-centered ppl within the group ba.. for now till 1st Oct, its slacking off period. I need a rest. A long rest.
The decomposition of sanity takes place at high pressures, where delta G is less than 0. luckily, it’s a reversible reaction, and sleep favors the backward reaction. =) HAHA..
Ok, promos just ended. Saw C sleeping at B41 on 19 Sep. the way a rose sleeps is different from the way other flowers do yea. hahax.. stood there for lk a minute, hoping tt the rose would not realize anth and wake up.. =) well, the rose didn’t. it was hopefully the last time my heart would melt again. now, its time to forget these flutterings and get down to business. We now run a syndicate, an underground organization, with the ultimate aim of profit maximization. Firms want to maximize their profits, we want to maximize our marks. And we will bleed anyone in t he way to achieve our aims. Such as the bloody school with their useless lecturers, who think that we are all so smart and want us to learn things beyond our level, only to NOT test them in the promos cos they’re outside the bloody syllabus. And I say shit you. F*** off. Die. Useless bunch of teachers who can’t teach for nuts. Why the hell can the school employ you? You don’t even know how your students feel, you don’t even care for your students. You’re f***ing not qualified to be holding the name of Raffles. You suck. Anw, I’m not gonna let you all dictate my fate, and what I should or should not do. I do what I think its right for me. You have no right to tell me what to do. Given, that a boy who once scored straight A’s in class paid attention during lectures and tried his best at doing his tutorials intently. BUT he did not score well. why? Cos unlike his classmates who slacked off the year, he did not have tuition, and relied basically on only what was taught to him. the education system is a fucking failure. This is the first time I’ve sweared on my blog and it will be the last. RJ is not going to dictate my life anymore. I am.
Study group is going to be called Andasse Seron. It’s a code name for “seeker of knowledge”. We’re going to bypass these boundaries that the fucking school sets for us. And we’re going to be the ultimate winners. I’ve never fought a losing battle before. I’m really damn fucking pissed at the way the school is run. 20 years down the road, I’ll only recognize myself as an alumni of RI, but not RJ. RJ has not enriched my education from the moment I stepped in. It was merely self study and friends who helped. Therefore, Andasse Seron does not owe RJ a living. And we will do what is best for ourselves in the interest of our members. With Courage, Wisdom, and Heart.
This post has been an angsty post, so pls forget abt it after reading. I will not swear in further posts, but maths was a damn bloody killer that really made me lose myself. slashed at 6:14 PM .
Wednesday, September 17, 2008 . Wait For You - Elliot Yamin
slashed at 10:26 AM .
Sunday, September 07, 2008 . Love Story in Harvard
romance drama tt my dad brought back from taiwan.. quite emo ba.. but its nice.. slashed at 11:40 AM .
