Working Woes and Wonders.

So it's been about a month since I started work at my old place, the finance department at NTUC. It took me a while, okay, perhaps more than a while, but I'm finally starting to get the hang of work again. It was not without trepidation that I first applied for the job which I quit last year when uni started, because being back in the place where I had so many good (and equally as bad) memories, the nostalgia might be too overwhelming.

And it was. In the first few days, there were unsettling, disturbing levels of loneliness and unhappiness. I resented the place for the memories it contained and I refused to let the past memories be replaced with anything new. To me, that place was where I met one of my best guy friends, where I went through the worst (and hopefully the last) experience between work colleagues. It didn't matter to me if my new colleagues were trying to be friendly or not- I blocked them out with sad smiles and spoke as little to them as I could.

However, I guess things did take a turn for the better. It took a lot of effort, but I finally let myself open up and be open to the fact that there are new colleagues here who might potentially be good friends as well. I tried to stop being a sad, moody girl and eventually tried to laugh and even joke with my colleagues and supervisor and it worked. They opened up to me as well. Where they weren't overly friendly, at least now they smile around me a lot more. I'm starting to be included in their jokes and strangely enough, this makes my working experience a whole lot better. Even my supervisor is opening up, and in doing so, I guess it warms me up and gives me a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, I'd eventually let the memories of these wonderful people live alongside last year's, with Zul, Nigel, Daniel and Raj. Add that to the fact that Daniel came back to work too, though under a different department, but I now at least have someone my age.

But it's not all that happy though. Sometimes, I'm still a little sad by the language barrier. My Chinese is of subpar standard, and sometimes I find it hard to communicate with them because of it. I must learn how to speak slower, especially when I get excited. I have a feeling that I was probably flawing my supervisor with my words this afternoon when I sat with him for lunch. Maybe I really shouldn't have done that. Another thing- I'd give the age gap between my colleagues and I about 8-11 years difference, maybe. Which technically isn't a lot, in my opinion. But when they talk to me, sometimes I seem to sense some forms of distancing, perhaps because of my age, and perhaps because they think I'm too young. I'm the temp staff after all, so I can't blame them, but I wished that they'd treat me as their equal. Rather than, as my supervisor said today (hence this sad musing), " In my time..." to which I thought, "in your time? I'm not that young.. :( " but I didn't mention this, of course. Things like that help me remember that as much as I want to be friends with them, I will never succeed if all they see me as is a temp staff, a young girl, a uni student, rather than as their equal.

I guess there are always going to be pros and cons to working in such an environment. I've only been in there for 3 months, so maybe my opinions will change by the time I resign. Perhaps.Cest la vie.

Existential ramblings.

Couple of nights ago, I actually decided to go star gazing. Not as romantic as it sounds though. The stars in Singapore aren't brilliant, and those that we see are the feeble few that shine through the layers of haze and air particles that clog the night sky. Neither was I in a romantic place, watching what I could of the stars from the balcony window where, if I looked down, I could see my neighbour's lone Golden wandering around the road, perking its ears up to the occasional slam of the dustbin lid as someone out there tosses out the trash.

Yet this sight of the stars never fails to ignite, in me, a form of existential crisis. Suddenly it seems like all my problems are insignificant, because truthfully, they are transient problems. They are things that are limited by time. So much so that in fact, as existential as that moment might be, I'm actually happy, because it puts into perspective how I should be thankful that my issues are merely a drop in the vast ocean of nothingness.

And so is everyone else's, apparently. If each star reflects within in it a single individual's problems and turmoils, then we would need more than 6 billion stars, which might seem like a substantial number until we look beyond that star, and we realise that that star and all the stars which represent mankind are literally, specks amongst the entire galaxy. Even beyond that, there are millions of galaxies, each holding millions of stars... suddenly, the human race's status is utterly diminished. In fact, such a thought is often quite frightening. Who are we to think of saving the earth, venturing into neighbouring planets in the hope of finding extraterrestial creatures, when we are but such a tiny speck? Such attempts are, to me, an utter mockery of mankind- man who think we are so important as to host a meeting with beings we have completely no idea about? Speaking of which, I was recently reading an article about the Fermi principle- the idea that if, mathematically, there were a million different galaxies, then technically, wouldn't at least one have some form of intelligent life on a planet, just like we do? That article generated so many different responses from so many different scientists that perhaps such a question just isn't meant to be answered. Maybe what mankind is assuming as intelligent life isn't even intelligent to begin with, maybe our forms of intelligence is merely the infant stage of an even greater intelligence that we have yet to even begin discovering. Maybe we have been searching for signals from extraterrestrial beings in the wrong place to begin with. Maybe our technology is, like our intelligence, in far too primitive a stage to even begin picking up non-human signals. Maybe such beings do not even communicate via signals, maybe they have discovered a whole new method of communication that signals are archaic to them. You get the idea. Either way, as I once read, whether or not there are beings out there or not, both thoughts are equally frightening.

Right now, its odd how the mere sight of stars is able to ignite such thoughts. Or perhaps, a more human approach to it would be, What-am-I-doing-with-my-life now that I've realised the minority which we are? Perhaps this was just what the human race was meant to be, that in the larger scheme of things, we are no more than the animals that roam this planet, this ability to plan for the future that human so excitedly claim is a sign of 'intelligent thought' isn't actually a sign of true intelligence, that we are but a product in the process of evolution which is meant to eventually produce a form of true, pure intelligence that we are far from attaining. Humans have animalistic instincts- we rage, we kill when in a frenzy, we desire happiness, we love, we fight, alongside our supposedly more logical ones. The true intelligence which lies perhaps millions of years from now may never possess any of these animalistic desires, because they perhaps have learnt or evolved to live completely on rational and logic, and would perhaps no longer need to fulfill the human, animal instinct that we humans still need to fulfill today. Because perhaps we are , really, nothing. Nothing significant. Perhaps just possibly, that we are just like the millions of stars in the night sky that our naked human eyes today fail to see, because just like the stars,the human race is indeed a feeble one which would die out even before it has a chance to shine.

Fighting.
Always fighting.
All around me, I'm fighting. I'm fighting and I'm continually sinking.
All around me, people I know, they talk to me, they hug me and then they kill me.
Sometimes I can't even keep my head above the water anymore. It's constantly threatening to drown me, to swallow me within it's depths.
Sometimes I really just want to cave in, to tell someone everything, to have someone listen to me.
But there's no one. No one who fully understands. No one who sempathises. Or perhaps those 2 groups of people never overlap. Those who understand don't emphathise. And those whom empathise don't understand.
I'm stuck always feeling like the other one. The one whom can't get it. The one left behind.
I hate this.
But I don't have a choice, do I?
I've got to keep
Fighting.
Always fighting.
I hate this.
I effing hate this. 

Hide me now
Under Your wings
Cover me
Within Your mighty hand

When the oceans rise and thunders roar
I will soar with You above the storm
Father you are King over the flood
I will be still, know You are God
Find rest my soul
In Christ alone
Know His power
In quietness and trust

When the oceans rise and thunders roar
I will soar with You above the storm
Father You are king over the flood
I will be still, know You are God

It's funny how it is when I'm most stressed and depressed when church hymns come to me, and all these come to my unconsciously too. These are meanings that I grasp not in church, when the whole congregation is singing, but rather in my quieter moments where all the meaning of the hymns suddenly come surging forward like a wave. Like this hymn, for example. When I'm most vulnerable that hymns that appropriately suit the occasion suddenly conjure themselves up in my mind. It's not a coincidence. I am humbled. 

Hide me now... I can think of no other time I would need to seek refuge in the Lord

Under your wings... Because You are my protector.

Cover me... Allow me to submit myself to You completely

Within Your mighty hand... I am weak without You

And the whole chorus. Telling me that it is only with God's power that I can able to overcome my problems. That in the midst of the turmoil that I should look to God because He is the only constant, where everywhere else is a storm, a calamity. To be king over the flood is to have the power to guide me and lead me from the pain into peace. That with the Lord by my side I have nothing to fear, not even the rising oceans and the roaring thunders. Because He is king, and I know that He is God. 

I will be still, and know You are God. I will be still, not drawn into and battered by the storm and turmoil, because I know that He will guide me out of the pain. 

Just a short post here.

And I know any guy who sees this post will laugh, but there are times where I really feel like I should have signed on. Except for one problem. If it wasn't for the fact that I'll have to serve 5 years, I would.
Really. 

Who needs flowers?

Happy Total Defence Day!

Hah. I'm just so tired of everyone going Happy Valentine's Day so yes, here's to something not so mainstream. ( On that note, today was indeed Total Defence Day)

None the less, its still time to jump on the Valentine's Day bandwagon (so much for trying to be non-mainstream). 

It's coming close to 2 years since we first got together. Our story of how we started getting close because he fixed my GC for me when I was panicking before my math exam was a story that most already know. As for the lesser known story, I used to stick black tape on his arms in order to attempt to wake him up as he often fell asleep in class next to me. The teacher used to threaten that if I didn't wake him up, I'd get into trouble as well, and being a good, unassuming JC kid back then I actually thought up of ways to wake him up, hence the black tape. Not that it worked though, because he still slept through it. 

In any case, I'm glad to have you. The care that you show me when you're worried about me, though harsh, is sincere, and that's what matters. Army has taught me to admire your resilience, and you're streetsmart in a way that I know I can never be. I wish I had your skill of reading quickly, because it would come in extremely useful for my course. Heh. 

In any case, most of what I want to say has been conveyed to you already, either in person or through the letter I wrote to you. I'm glad for you. Really. 

Spend most of our night walking around looking for a place to eat which wasn't crowded (I swear, everywhere had a queue). I guess its our fault for not reserving a table haha, and I can't blame him for not reserving one because he was outfield the whole week :((  I was perfectly find settling with hawker food, but then we found a place at Pastamania and there wasn't a queue! (: That was more than what I expected to begin with anyway, so I was honestly happy with the pasta and the brownies(: 

And here's some red velvets he bought from Twelvecupcakes. Shared them for breakfast the next day when he came over. 

And that was the end of our Valentine's day. Thanks for the sweet stuffed animal you gave me (It's much more lasting than roses yay) and who needs flowers anyway? Too conventional. 

For that matter, let's just stick to celebrating Valentine's day a day before or a day after. Friday night+Valentine's day +last day of Chinese New Year is definitely a recipe for disastrous dinner attempt :P 

" The fact that you're here with us today means that the professors who have interviewed you have found something special, something outstanding about your thinking, and that your opinion is indeed of quality. They want to hear from you. " - Priscilla, 1st day of Year 1, Sem 1, 5th August 2013.

Fast forward a few months later, and I honestly can't help doubting her words. What is so valuable about me, and what quality can I offer the class? Am I even good enough to mildy be able to contribute anything of some worth to the class? The encouragement is wearing off. Maybe it's because I'm just particularly pensive tonight, but sometimes I feel that I'm just.. not good enough. I'm not good enough for my friends, that they're all above me, and that I'm of no fight. Sometimes I try to psych myself into thinking otherwise, because I know that when you tell people you're of no standard long enough, one day they will believe it.

I'm worried that some people are actually believing it now. That I'm not good enough. That's I'm of no standard. Nothing to them. No fight. But why? Can I actually do it? Are my thoughts actually worthy? Why do I feel so superficial compared to them, or am I just criticising myself too harshly?
I keep thinking, I can't, I just can't. Sometimes the feeling is so great it actually crushes me under its weight. I don't even want to fight it, but I have no choice. I have to, I need to , prove to myself that I can do it, that I'm not stupid. Prove it to myself, maybe, then others will begin to realise that as well.

But I'm not brilliant. Or am I just refusing to see it? I don't know.
I don't have any answers.
Only the one answer that Priscilla gave on the first day. 

I rarely post photos of myself, so why not? 

I miss those days though. This photo was taken before semester started and I was, well, a lot happier. 

Can't wait for such days again. 

Why did I choose to present on the Book of Job. This is such a difficult book to present on. Not just difficult because of its depth, but also because I need to believe that what I'm saying is utter nonsense- religiously. But how do I argue a case when half the time my mind is telling me that I'm not speaking the truth, that I do not believe in what I say? That's going to come out somehow, in my presentation. And I don't want that to happen.
And as usual before I present or do anything that usually sparks fear, I pray. But how do I gather the courage to pray when I'm presenting on the negligence of God and the evil that God has let populate the world? Or better still, how do I explain the concept of sin without bringing all my Christian ideals in? Is it even possible?
How do I even begin searching for divine intervention for this, or should I? 

I suppose its not a really good thing that I tend to try to hide a lot of things.
Note the word try.
I'm not exactly the best at hiding my emotions, but I do a pretty good job hiding my illnesses, I think. But it isn't a good thing. The reason why I'm typing this- or rather, have the time to muse about inconsequential subjects like these- is because I'm sitting at my laptop with my left foot propped up on a chair and in a thick white bandage.
I guess it would never have been *this* bad if I hadn't aggravated the problem by insisting I was fine when all the other church members I was playing frisbee with asked if I wanted to sit out. Chu and this new girl, Mabel, even insisted that they saw my ankle twist but I denied. I even considered continuing the game... fortunately Chu had a clearer head than I did at that point in time. Adrenaline rush, I realise, does have its weird effects. Like causing me to still think it was okay to play with a sprained ankle (or what began as a sprained ankle). And I was still joking around with the church members during the break. Which probably made them think it wasn't serious.

Funnily enough, I actually thought it was nothing. I thought that I could just sit around for a while then continue playing, and I was wrong, again. It seems like I can never accurately gauge how bad my injuries are, and no, I never expected myself to land up at the A&E of TTSH tearing from the pain which eventually resulted in my left foot swelling. I didn't expect that I'd end up with a torn ligament either. Which, then again, is the reason why I'm missing school. For the next 3 days.

Maybe it's because I've been brought up never to care for myself, but this shouldn't be a excuse. Because this worries others who genuinely do care, and honestly, I'd really hate to disappoint these people. And when people care for me, or show me concern, I receive it awkwardly, merely because I know that I don't know how to return these acts of generosity. I push them away because I don't want the feeling of obligation, of knowing that I have to return these acts of kindness if they were in my position. Very few ( I can count these people on one hand) know that I'm joking. That I hide all this pain (physical pain) behind laughter. Judging from the reactions of my church members when they saw how I was joking about my injury, none of them (except Chu, maybe) know that I'm really hurt. And it's fine with me, albeit a little sad, somehow. Something about me wishes that they really knew. But I know that I can't accept all that care without giving something in return. I can't accept favours from anyone, maybe except from those really close to me. I wish I could tell them, but something stops me from doing so, as well. People say I need to learn how to speak up, and articulate my pain, but I can't, and I won't be able to for a long time. Chu says I need to learn how to take care of myself, but that, at least its somewhat within my means.

But the biggest lesson I learnt? Playing frisbee with thick nike sports shoes on an uneven field isn't a smart thing to do. 

Imperfect

I actually harbour a lot of imperfections, I think. Like the fact that, during my first tutorial of this semester, I was overcome with a panic attack because the people in my class looked so utterly serious. Like the fact that my professor seemed to be talking in a different language about Darwin's theory of evolution and the gaia and overmind and the collective conciousness and unconciousness. It's a blur and that's what scares me. Fine, granted that I eventually found out what all that meant, it doesn't mean it was any less, yknow, cheem. It took me a while to grasp it. What if I was the only one? And what if everyone else understood but were just faking that they didn't understand it? And best (or worst) of all, what if I was actually naive enough to believe them?

The idea of school hits me right in the gut sometimes, and its a sickening, wrenching feeling that physically manifests itself- the day before school began, I went home after playing Captain's ball with the church suffering from stomachache induced not by spoilt food, but by fear. That meant that I went to school the next day feeling uncomfortable as heck but I managed to pull through the day anyway. I had dinner with my ex-colleagues after (story another time) but with the sickening dread of school the next day.

Funnily enough, I don't remember feeling this way last semester. I was happy, then, but I guess the grim reality of uni life finally kicked in, and I'm slowly withdrawing from people, from friends and becoming this quiet person all over again. It always happens with school. And now I shall see who are the friends whom stay with me throughout this period. Time has proven that this is an effective method of separating the acquaintances from the friends.

Its about time I sign off from this blogpost anyway. I contemplated posting about the disastrous dinner meetup with my ex-colleagues (to me, at least), but I'll save that for another time. When the fear and stomachache and nausea of a new semester passes. 

2014

So.. its 2014. I've kept this blog for almost 7 years already. Time flies quickly indeed. And in sync with the tradition I've done almost every year, here's a little dedication to all those people who mean something to me.

To all those people I've met this year, including my best guy friend and all my uni mates, thanks for brightening my year. 2013 would have never been the same without you guys. I'm glad to have met you all in some way or another. This time last year, I was devoid of some of the best people in my life who made my year so brilliantly colourful. I was worrying over the start of my kindergarten teaching job, and I was mentally preparing to retake A levels/sign on/go to a private uni if my results turned out bad. But I did decently enough, and after applying for uni, I was fortunate to have met my work colleagues, one of whom I would have never imagined would turn out to be my best guy friend. You saw me through the crap at work, and knew that even as I was trying to be happy, that I was grappling with a lot of issues, and you pulled me through them by being there for me and for being a shoulder to cry on when I needed one. Then uni began, and I was happy to have met some of the sweetest and non-judgemental people around, whom pulled me through the darker days of uni life, and whom I became close to despite such a short period.

To those whom have seen me through 2013 and prior to that, thanks for always being there for me and for mainining close friends despite our vastly different schedules. We no longer see each other on a regular basis, but that never stopped us from remaining fast friends. Friends whom I can wholly trust without fearing judgement, and whom I can be truthfully, purely, happy with. I'm not a mushy person, but you guys have helped me through difficulties much more than you imagine, and I'd never want to lose you all for the world.

To my boyfriend, Chu, you deserve a special dedication because you're my other half, and this year will be a tough one as you'll be flying off for so many overseas exercises. We've lasted through more than a year- we're coming 2 years now- and I'm glad we stuck through everything together. Even though you're the most clumsy, bumbling person I've met, I still smile at your cute mannerisms. You know how to truly make me happy, so much so I am comfortable enough to slurp soup from the bowl, wear my worst home clothes and pull off my weirdest stunts without fearing judgement from you. Thanks for always trying to make me smile, by turning up with food and chocolate when I'm feeling down, and for knowing that my idea of a good date is a bowl of food and movie session at my house. Thanks for showing me all those cute little things to cheer me up when I'm stressed, whatsapping me pictures of cute fat rabbits or cats because you know that animals are our common love. The list is endless but these are just off the top of my head. You've made me contented and happy, and in return all I'd want is to be a better girlfriend for you, to care for you the way you want. I love you, and I'm not afraid of expresssing it here. Please stay safe in Brunei, and I'll be always praying for your safe return.

Why do I feel so alone in this crowd of laughing happy people? I get asked that a lot. Or rather, by Chu. But the reasons are pretty simple, I think. I don't feel safe here. I feel like they are going to eat me up like a pack of wolves. I don't feel needed, I feel outcast, and I feel plain odd. 

I can't wait for Chu to go overseas though. Maybe that'll be my best time to shine. I don't know. Something about how he and my pastor was discussing that I need to be able to live without Chu annoys me. Or rather, annoys my pride. What do you mean by that statement- you think I can't stand by myself in church? Really? I think you're mistaken. I have intuition that perhaps you don't have, and as a result I'm not as dense as *others* when it comes to figuring out a group of dangerous people. These people are dangerous, to me. Fish don't see the water they swim in, apparently. 

I hate how you're so well-liked in there. And I can't while you constantly overshadow me. I need my own identity, and while you shroud me I will never get a chance to shine among these people whom, despite being dangerous, I can probably fit in. I'm chameleon by nature so why is this failing me now? Maybe it's my innate fear that you will always be better than me, socially. I can't stand that idea. I absolutely cannot stand it. 

If there's one thing I cannot understand, its people who cannot appreciate silence. Who find an incessant need for conversation even where conversation appears unnecessary or worse still, inappropriate. Perhaps my introverted nature has influenced my thinking, because I think that silence is the best time for self reflection. Not the mundane, trivial, everyday occurrences, but about how we seek to live life, what we hope to achieve and why we are doing this particular thing during this particular phase of life. The reflection I find that comes with silence, and only silence, allows us to realign our priorities and fixate ourselves on what we first set out to achieve. These silent reflections have allowed me to realise that I deviate a lot from my goals. Without having a direction for thought, my mind simply drifts, and I find myself veering towards thoughts that hinder on the questioning of my own purpose, what I am doing, for example, with this course in Literature, and what I hope to achieve from it. It is possibly also this silence that I realise that our minds deceive us into obtaining a lesser goal which we believe has as much potential as the greater, original goal we first intended. Silence has allowed me to realise that due to my own weakness of the mind, I don't have the courage to pursue to dream I first intended- the greater, original goal I wanted.

If anything, a person who takes pleasure in constant chatter is depriving himself a chance at self reflection, whereby the need for talk has, in fact, tricked the mind into accepting that peace is elevated during chatter, that the exchange of words and thoughts in fact help one to identify with himself and find his true goals. But I disagree, not because I disrespect these people, but because I think that by sharing goals and thoughts with someone, we become confused as to what our goals- the untainted, purest form of the goals that crystalise when we self-reflect- are, as they intermingle and mix with the desires and wants of others. What becomes ours, becomes theirs, and what we wholeheartedly wanted, originally, and for ourselves, is lost in the process. Sometimes the losing of our intimate goals is not just because of the intermingling that occurs during conversation, but also because I think that our desires and thoughts are not always meant to be translated into words, and meaning is lost when attempting to communicate it to another. The perils of a conversation- what these people who indulge in constant chatter do not realise they are losing. Because there comes a time where words cannot express our desires, where words hinder our ability to hold on to those pure, untainted goals we first had. Where the attempt to reconfigure those thoughts into words would ultimately result in the ruination and corruption of our personal dreams. 

I honestly hate how I cannot seem to love myself.
I don't. I do the worst things to harm myself, and it makes me happy. If I don't sleep and others tell me that I need rest and tell me so, I will relish the attention and it's back to torturing myself. The same goes with eating or with anything that is basically a human function. I deprive myself of it till I'm sick and out and down and I don't know why.
Maybe I need to love myself first. Maybe I need to be alone first. Love myself when no one else loves me- only then I will learn? I don't know.
I'm crying typing this out.
So many people care for me. Yet I can't reciprocate, I'm stuck in this glass dome where I can't reach out and touch the lives of others who are caring for me. Chu cares a lot for me but I don't know how to reciprocate. So does my best bro friend. But I can't do anything. Maybe Chu yes, because I'm simply sick of torturing myself in front of him. But not for my friend. It's like I lose all ability to care for myself when someone cares for me.
I can't care unconditionally, and I don't know how to care. I can't stand it and I hate myself for this so badly.
I don't even know myself and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
I don't get it. Is it a psychological condition? I don't know. I don't even dare to find out.
F.M.L. I swear.
I mean, I have a good understanding of what I am and who I am and what matters to me, but I just can't love.
I don't know how to care for my own physical needs. I'm 19, and I don't know.
What's this.
I got this off a website - "

• Learning to take loving action for yourself regarding your emotional and physical health, your financial health, your time and space and your interactions with others." 

I can easily say I don't do any of that. I put others before myself, I don't do a good job caring for my physical health (the number of times I've already crossed the boundaries is more than telling), and as for time and space and interactions with others, well, I'm "chameleon-istic" in nature, I just adapt. To others. Does that mean I'm not certain of myself? I'm not sure. 

In any case, if anything, yes I will begin to prioritise myself first. Just because my friend wants a shopping buddy to hang out with doesn't mean I can't say no. Or- classic- if I have exams, I can choose not to go to church because I need to study. 

Why do I hate myself so much? I'm my worst enemy- I never even hate anyone as much as I do myself- well maybe except Chu's ex girlfriend- but that aside, yes, I don't. I wish myself the worst, judge, look down and hurt myself. And I never do that to anyone else, because I'm hoping that others will give me the affirmation I need. But it can't be done, right? I have to affirm myself, right?

On another note, I've taken to spamming myself with water when I'm stressed. Which you could say is a good thing.

So much hurt.
I thought you'd have gotten over it.
I did everything I could for you.
And it's not enough.

It's my fault, I guess. I failed.
I stripped away every single bit of my dignity and it still failed.
It's not easy to strip everything away like that. I'm trusting you not to misuse it. I hope my trust isn't misplaced.
Maybe I'm too naive. Or just too damn nice for my own good.
Either way, no one's going to look at it that way. It's all about you, and to you, I've failed. Despite all that I always try to do and have done, I've failed.
At the end of the day, I'm wrong, and you're right. As always.

Let it be then.

So yesterday was a depressing day. In summary, I 

1. realise that SO MUCH for female gamers being encouraged and recognised. Really. 

2. I got my essay back. And went to eat ice cream to cheer myself up after that.

3. I have 2 papers to complete by monday. And I am still blogging. Great.

1. I don't know what's with the chauvinistic male gamers that look down on female ones. It started off with a pair work presentation on reviews ( we picked a game review) we were supposed to present yesterday and my partner fell ill. I don't blame him, he was genuinely sick. But that means that I had to present alone, or find a substitute last minute. I entered class and found out that this other guy was presenting on a game review as well. I was happy, because I thought that he'd be willing to team up with me seeing as we were both doing game reviews anyway. Turns out otherwise, of course. When I asked him if he wanted to pair up he said 'no, go and die. " My reaction was completely... Okay what? Because it was a genuine question I asked him. He went on to say ,"No way I'm never presenting with a girl. I'm chauvinistic like that. You want to do a game review, I'll show you what a real game review is'. 

Thanks man. Or rather, thanks and eff you very much. I don't need your attitude, and I don't need you to show me anything about a game review. I can't believe I still managed to laugh it off as nothing then and even joked with him about other things after. Couple of my friends called him a jerk and a jackass though. I guess that means the hurt I feel is justified. In any case, I still applaud myself for keeping my temper with him. 

And so much for males applauding girls who play. This is probably the first true test of whether or not I really like gaming and I do. Despite whatever guys say about us. 

2. On a better note, I did fairly well for my research paper, considering that I thought I was going to fail miserably. I still went to eat ice cream with a couple of my close friends because we all thought that ice cream would take our minds off things a little. 

3. I'm stressed to snapping. I can't even believe I'm stuck doing this because I feel like I'm drinking from a water hose. There's so many things to do just talking about it makes me want to scream and yell and go crazy and cry. Why. 

It happens.
All over again.
In a way, I expected it. I expected change, I expected that there would be that inevitable character switch.
In a way, this is the greatest test for one's character. It reveals who you truly are, right down to the core. And I'm glad for this switch. I mean, having a friend means knowing the person through and through, and when the person's frivolities have been stripped away, that's when you know your friend best. What doesn't change after going through all that depicts the core of your character.

But in a way, I'm sad to see the change. You could say that its just a piqued interested in another phase of life, but I'm a sentimental person, and I miss the days before all this happened. Before you spent the last 5 days in camp, and before we could talk and laugh about anything without having our conversations ripped apart with words like 'I'm tired', or 'camp', or anything, just anything that has to do with comparing my life with yours. I hate the last one, I really do. I hate it when no one acknowledges the stress we undergraduates go through as well. Yes its a different kind of strain, but its a strain nonetheless, no? I'm stressed and I haven't slept and I'm tired, and you rebut with 'yeah I haven't slept for xxx number of hours'. Sometimes it hurts to hear this comparison. It's an angry, primal form of hurt, whereby I'm annoyed because you think I'm inferior to you. You want me to pity you, to feel sympathy, but I cannot do so while you continue to compare our lives. Somehow or other, your entry into manhood - I hope I can call it manhood- has somehow disoriented me a little. Where once I was sympathetic and kind , I am now jealous and resentful, wishing I had a life that was worse than yours. And where I could one talk about anything under the sun with you I now feel fearful that something you say might annoy me.

Which brings me to another point. Human minds, they say, are one. At least within a single individual. But sometimes I look upon myself at those moments where I'm about to get annoyed and I realise, some part of me fears getting annoyed. Some part of me goes , 'no, don't talk about this, you know you'll be upset at it, and I'm fearful of this annoyance.' Such conflict. But I don't deny that eventually one side prevails- usually its the side which loves getting annoyed. And I do. All over again. Maybe its because I'm jealous of the attention you're getting. Maybe its because of the frustration at being unable to understand. Maybe it's because of my fear of slipping back into anorexia again. All those worries. And it distorts my logic.

Maybe it's this distortion which causes me to miss the old you. To crave the old you that you no longer are, even as the new you is undergoing change that will make you a man- I hope. But those old days are gone now, and life moves on. I will change too, perhaps, as I make my way through these 4, draining years.
What do I do? I shall accept. I shall accept. I shall accept.

Sometimes I fear that I'm too broken for anyone. Too broken for anyone to love, and that loving me is a sin. Loving me is choosing the unknown path, the Unexplored.

But loving me is easy, I know. I'm supposedly everything a guy looks for.

But beneath that veneer are troubling layers of problems, layers that penetrate too deep and which hurt too badly. 

And I don't know if any guy will eventually be able to see all those layers, and see me through all those layers. 

Loving me is an addiction, like cocaine. It's easy to get hooked, but once you're in it, you realise that its way too harmful for you, but you can't get out of it. 

Loving me is dangerous, is difficult and its a challenge. I'm an abnormal girl, a girl whom you love because you see that treasured possession at the end of the tunnel, and you grope for it, but have no lead, no direction. 

Loving me is a challenge. Normal girls aren't a challenge. But loving me is. And I can't help it, because I don't know myself, either. 

And you took up the challenge. 

Will you fight on?