forty: again

i really should be getting ready to sleep now. have to do the pre-sleep ritual, bathe, write my journal, do some quiet time. what am i doing now? nothing really? just online wasting some time.

and tomorrow is friday. friday is good because that means i'll be going home and i'll have good efficient internet access there, and not this slow one which doesn't allow me to play WoW. it's kinda sad, yes, i agree. for some it's drugs, others smoking, i guess it's the lesser evil.

listening to come what may.

there's however, anatomy practical tomorrow and i really really dislike that. all that formalin is really destroying me. for 2 hours i stop breathing through my nose, only taking the occasional sniff when i feel adventurous enough and then coughing, no choking, incessantly like it's the plague and i'm dying.

the song's at it's chorus.

i wonder who actually reads this blog. am i ranting to no one in particular. on one hand, i'd like people to read this but on the other, i know the more people read this the more careful i have to be. and anyway, it's not like i have that many friends anyway. whatever. bah. argh.

there are so many things i want now. a driver's license. new shoes. new clothes. a holiday, yes, i want to leave this country real bad and have a change of environment. friends to be with me right now, at this moment. and in case i get everything i ask for here, i'll throw in happiness and world peace.

there is this insatiable desire to delete everything here. 21 minutes to the new day. but only according to the computer clock. who cares what the computer clock says.

the song's over but i'm replaying it again.

thirty-nine: leap of faith

standing against the precipice of another chapter
looking back at the footsteps against the soft soil
the prints missing some edges in the very beginning
but slowly forming its shape towards this end

peering at the path to this point
feet which have walked on thorny paths
and on hard soil which has since then lost its mark
and hence, hardened, willed, everything God's plan

the precipice upon which things rests and could as easily fall
the sight around displays its beatific grace
and even with the wind chiding and daring
a leap for an end still unseen

thirty-eight: bah

i should really stop being obsessive about everything in the world. it's darn silly and at the end of it, being obsessive never really helps anything, except give me a migraine with all the unnecessary thought put into something so simple. and maybe my seeing too much in every single thing destroys the very thing itself. oh dear, i've always been like this and my closest friends have always told me to snap out of it because of it's destructiveness.

...

meanwhile, reading and WoW shall be the opiate which will distract my senses. i should add studying because that would be beneficial in other ways, hmm. but still, reading is best. literature is a higher form of self help, as my friend used to say.

and medicine is irritating me because i feel so deficient in what makes us throughly human. where is the personal touch of it. we're trying to be doctors but i feel like everything is mechanical and can be solved with some formula. where is the beauty of life?

and still i feel like there is no difference between going to school nowadays and sitting at home to study. where is the human touch? i feel there is some gap between everyone. everyone's too caught up in work that we're losing the special moments which i think we'd all want to have. it's like already, we're colleagues.

all this is no good. i have become a cantankerous coffee shop uncle with my butt and my feet on the wooden stool, a coffee black in one hand, and the other picking my nose.

degeneration.

thirty-seven: oh well

something is not right. something which i can't quite put my finger on. i guess it's just one of those days when you feel like crap but there's nothing to put the blame on. and why should i feel this way? i should be happy, things could not be better.

the day masks our true feelings and moods. it's the darkness of the night which reveals how we are. i think it's so easy to hide in the skin which we put on in public. and it's become more and more accesible, more and more convenient and more and more secure. familiarity breeds our new self and we feel comforted when withing that niche which we have carved out for ourselves in public. and so we go about our daily routines doing the same thing, and more impotantly, doing the same things in the same manner.

night comes and there's no one to hide from. the skin is shed for there's no need. for it is futile to hide from ourselves the things which torment us secretly, even during the day.

i would like to get lost in candy floss and heavy rock but then there's such a thing as tooth decay and hearing impairment.

thirty-six: last time

i think i've been whining a lot these days and i should just shut up and stop whining. been whining to everyone about everything, and whining to myself especially a lot. time to stop the self pity. anyway, i realise that i'm currently whining about whining. which means this is the last. this is such a nonsense post.