Moving on...

Emailed Claire this morning. Said some things I had to say. And finally, I think I might be able to close this chapter.

It's the hardest letter I've ever written in my life. How do you summarise three years of introspection and thought into a single letter?

And I'm afraid that I might hurt her again by writing to her after so long. But I just don't think I could live with myself, if I didn't let her know that I finally understand things a little better. That I'm sorry.

Every day I wake up and it's Sunday
Whatever's in my head won't go away
The radio is playing all the usual
And what's a wonderwall anyway 

Because my inside is outside
My right side's on the left side
Cause I'm writing to reach you
But I might never reach you
I long to teach you about you
But that's not you 

This was our song. Funny, it seems so apt now.

Here's to you, Claire. May you find your happiness in life.

Peace.

It's a beautiful night, the radio's playing softly, I'm just idly adding to my essay here, and for some reason I feel a deep sense of contentment. Ok, sure, it'll be cooler if I were done with that essay thing, but for some reason I'm not frustrated or annoyed at all. I'm just chilled, relaxed. I'm just...at peace.

I could use more moments like this. A rare moment of peace in this crazy world that we live in.

P.S. Shoulders peeling. More than a week after the beach. Weirdness.

Commitment and Confusion

I was going to blog this afternoon about how everyone's too stressed about the test and how we should have some perspective. Relax, chill, don't panic, in the greater scheme of things it's not worth much, etc etc.

Then I wasted yet another afternoon on silly nonsense when I should have been working on that test.

And I thought about what Ruishan said, about how this is a dangerous way to think. And I figured, midsem's over, it's been months since I got outta the army, and it's time to stop the excuses and start picking up the slack.

So I made a commitment. To stop doing pointless stupid things. To focus a bit more on uni stuff. To at least start doing the bare minimum for tutorials and lectures. To stop expecting results to drop from the sky and start being active about working towards what I want.

Alright, so it's probably too late to salvage the torts test. But it's about time I woke up and got my game together.

So if you're my friend and you're reading this (I have NO IDEA why you'd be reading this unless you were my friend or at least know me), I need help. I need reminders that I've made this commitment. I need people to wake me up in lectures, to remind me that I should really focus on the lectures instead of my laptop, to remind me that I should do my tutorials, to remind me that readings have to be done.

Thank you. I deeply appreciate it.

...aaaand on top of that, I'm extremely confused now. I thought I had it worked out, but it turns out that it's all still messed up and weird. Why are people so hard to understand? And why do people never understand what you're trying to say?

I'm cool with having you as a friend, but I'm not sure if we can take it a step further. Or if there's even willingness on your part. Or if there's willingness on my part, too.

I need time to think, but time is of the essence too.

I need answers.

Dude, where's my brain?

Friggin good weekend, notwithstanding the fact that I didn't get any work done. Movie marathon with the mates on Saturday all the way until almost Sunday pm, finally got to get to know neighbours better when they came over Sunday evening. Everything a weekend should be - no cares, no worries. Only bad thing, of course, was that my laptop died. Yes. No shit. Cannot even access bios now. Would be extremely pissed if it wasn't for the fact that I managed to backup all my important stuff onto the desktop. Not good, though - it's another reason to slack off. Like I need any more reasons.

Midsem break -> too short.
Khel -> too slack.
Test -> sure die.

But yeah. Back to the daily grind.

Priorities

Believe it or not, some things in life are more important than essays and assigments.

Cloony The Clown

I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.

- Shel Silverstein

Give me time...

...to sort out what I'm feeling. To figure myself out. To figure you out, too. To figure if I'm reading things right. To figure if I'm giving off the right signals. To figure if there could be a "we".

The door's definitely open, but give me time.

And if there's fear, it ain't the fear of rejection. It's more like the fear of reading things wrong. The fear of rushing into a mistake. The fear that I'm seeing things differently from what they really are.

And I'll give you time too. If a "we" is what you want, I'll give you more time to get to know me better. To look at me beneath the masks. To see what I really am, all my fears and hopes. To decide if this guy is someone you could live with.

Let's give it a little time. Not too much, not too little, but just the right amount.

Mid-term Breeeeeeaaaaaaak!

...but I'm not done with my closed memo!

I feel really stupid. Why is this memo thing crawling along, not flowing like it should? Maybe I need to slack less, drink less, and focus more. Pfft. Take this for example. If I have time to blog, why shouldn't I be working on the closed memo? They're both just thinking and typing anyway, they both involve my sitting down in front of the computer and tapping away, they're more or less the same darn thing!

And I just started a new paragraph instead of closing the window and getting back to work. Pfft.

And what if I end up doing the same thing when I should be working on that torts test? (Argh, test, argh!) I hope I don't have to force myself to work by heading down to the law library during mid-term break to study :( So mugger!

Anyway. The point of today's entry. Is it cool for guys to express their feelings? Read: should guys cry in public? Wait, maybe "cool" isn't the right word. Maybe the question is just this: what's wrong with guys doing "touchy-feely" emotional stuff like crying in public?

I don't know, but I ain't shedding tears in public, thankyouverymuch.

Darned if I can tell you why, though. Suddenly, that memo thing seems easier than this.

Maybe it's just about stereotypes. You know, macho guys, boys don't cry, the whole manly-man thing. But, it's not like I think of myself as particularly macho or manly-man anyway. I just think of myself as...this dude. I'm no Clint Eastwood, but neither am I a Trent (http://trent.blogspot.com/). I'm just...I don't know. Maybe "some dude" works for now.

Or maybe I'm just scared to show that I care. I don't know why either.

So, the point being - go watch Be With Me. It's a local film anyway, be patriotic! Be a (wo)man, do the right thing! Support the local film industry, especially the non-mainstream, non-Jack Neo productions, yo!

Why? Because I haven't had a movie touch me like this since Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Because if you actually read this far, I suppose you do care a little about what I think. And because this is the closest I'll come to talking about my feelings...for now.

MRT Musings

So, I realised something today.

Hung out with Ziy, watched Be With Me, and on the way back was just looking around the train at all my fellow bored commuters. And I realised this: everyone has a story. It doesn't matter if they want to tell their story. It doesn't matter if they can't tell their story. Everyone has a story, deep within.

What's yours?

This is my story. Or at least, the part of my story that I can tell.