the unbearable lightness of....well nothing..

I can’t explain it but these days I just can’t help but feel totally exhausted like 30 minutes after waking up. And I mean TOTALLY EXHAUSTED. I feel the drowsiness coming on even standing up and waiting for the lift. I don’t get it. I’ve been trying to get enough sleep. Army says 7 hours right? I almost always have at least that amount. I don’t think I’m making a very good impression on my profs going to class always looking like I’d stay awake all night. People keep asking what’s the deal with the eyebags. Others keep asking what I’d got up to. When I said I wanted to go donate blood Bern said I couldn’t because I looked like the living dead and I needed the blood more than the hospital did.

On another note, I’m starting to have a really bad feeling about one of my classes. Just got off the first tutorial today and I have to admit I’m pretty shaken. During lectures the prof keeps flashing pictures of famous authors or prominent figures in history and then keeps asking “So can anyone tell me who this is?” or “I’m sure this would be a familiar face to you.”

The bad news:
I have no idea who these people are. (Most of the time I’m struggling to keep a blank look off my face and my eyes from glazing over while of course trying to shake off this goddamned weariness.)

The worse news:
Everyone else seems to be in the opposite situation! (Sometimes they even answer in unison while I sit there feeling stupid!)

Tutorials don’t make me feel any better either. From what I’ve garnered so far, my tutorial class is packed chock full of the cream of the history department crop, which essentially means my place on the bell curve is probably somewhere near the bottom of the monastery.

Sigh.

what're you made of?

I'd have to say today has been just about the worst day I've ever had for my self esteem. I found out at the last minute that I needed to submit a resume to the university over in Europe for my exchange application, I hurriedly went about collecting sample resumes from people.

Bad idea.

It seemed like every resume I read contained a looong list of prestigious sounding titles and positions. Manager, analyst, coordinator, head, officer...... the list went on and on and I realised that I really could not say the same for myself. I know that I've barely had any time to work at all in the less than 2 years since I ORD-ed. In fact any time I have had has in fact been spent on one job or another except for perhaps last December when I had barely 3 weeks of holiday because of my exams finishing late. And yet I just can't help but feel so utterly and completely inadequate. I just keep feeling like the guy who keeps trying and trying and goes nowhere. Like Charlie Brown if you like, except Charlie Brown has a wonderful (if a little eccentric) dog to come home to and I, have...well...you get the picture.

Going to Janice's 21st just now turned out pretty badly too. Happened to sit in between these two high-flying political science majors who wouldn't stop talking about the "hard life of PS majors" and unknowingly systematically dismantled every last bit of the fledgling plans I had for the future. I guess you might call it a deserving reality check but right now it's just really got me wondering if I've somehow managed to lose my way somewhere. I don't get it. I feel like the most average of average people. The guy who quite simply doesn't have what it takes. I can't seem to find a single thing that I can excel in. That I can find myself in.

So thats it? The long and short of it? I'm not an outstanding student. I do well enough but chances are I won't even be able to make 2nd upper. I'm not the worst sportsman you'll find but I'm far from the best. I'm the one you'll always find left behind cycling, I have terrible ball sense on the football field and I've never even managed to so much as get an IPPT gold even once though I tried so hard to get it, even taking drastic measures like starving myself and training every single day for more than a month. I can't even find solace music-wise. I've spent a good part of my life being classically trained in music and yet I barely scraped through all of my piano and theory exams. These days I can barely coordinate my left and right hands to play simultaneously. I've played the guitar since I was sec 3 and yet up till now, after hours and hours of practice and going for lessons that I'd scrimped and saved for, I'm hardly what you'd call a 6-string virtuoso. Even my love and family life has been nothing but disappointment after disappointment. Even standing in the rain completely exhausted with my face painted green after 72 km of pure torture, my father could not find it in himself to tell his son that he was proud of him as he pinned the silver wings on my chest. Not a smile even.Thats me. Mr so-fucking-average-and-forgetable. As if anyone would even give a shit.

I'm sorry this has turned into a rant. Its been a long hard day.

who needs medishield?

Anid the anticipation leading up to the big match tonight I can't help but recall an encounter with a friend's dad about a week or so ago.

Stayed over at Bryan's place because I had to go to church early and play guitar for service and ended up watching the Liverpool-Watford game with his dad. Not that I was familiar with his dad. In all the years I've known Bryan this is the first time I've ever met his dad.

Ah the wondrous ways football brings us together.

But anyway Liverpool was totally dominating Watford without even trying and yet the few times Ashley Young and the other guys in yellow shirts came forward it was a really hairy affair to say the least.

"Aiyo I think I might have to support different team already."

"Huh? Why uncle?"

"Getting too old for this nonsense. Later heart attack."

*post-match update*
More heart attacks like tonight and I will die a happy happy happy man. There will be no regrets when the worms come!!

my world is a flood

I come to school grimacing in the sun and then 2 hours later I step out of the LT to find the place looking like a Castle Transylvania set; angry skies, lightning, wind and all. Maybe its true. The weather over Singapore really is controlled by that Count guy from Sesame Street.

"4, 5, 6 shibidy shams ah ah ah!"

"Upper thomson road nursery flooded ah ah ah!"

So now I'm stuck in school at least for a bit. Ah well I was going to wait for Cai so can go sign up for NUS biathlon anyway. Sprint distance only la. Full distance I'll have to pretend I stepped on a stonefish to avoid embarrassment.

Ok time to get back to reading Frank Miller's 300. Bloody good grahpic novel series. Read it before you watch the movie man.

my plug in babee!!!

Whoever’s up there sitting on a cloud and pulling the levers on the weather machine over Singapore has a lot to learn about moderation. These days it’s either raining so much we’re in danger of becoming the world’s biggest outdoor swimming pool, or its so hot we really wouldn’t mind having that honour. Well at least it means I won’t have to carry a Doraemon umbrella around for a bit. Definitely smile inducing, but a tad damaging for the image.

A little rain yesterday night would certainly have been welcome yesterday night though. The Muse concert was, as expected, super frikkin awesome!! I am utterly and completely awed by Matthew Bellamy’s musical prowess. He takes making love to your guitar or piano to new heights, he’s a veritable Jimmy Neutron with the effects and dammit he even sounds good using a loudhailer on Feeling Good. Its one thing however, to be moshing on a balmy autumn evening somewhere in Europe and quite another to be doing it on a sticky humid night in tropical Singapore. Now I know what being the Christmas turkey feels like. Came out of the concert looking like I’d just done the 50m freestyle in berms and a polo tee and now every muscle in my body is aching.

I must do that again sometime.

*On another note* Thanks for coming for my 23^rd everyone!!! You guys made it rockin! Photos are up on Shaun’s photoblog pppixel.wordpress.com. I’d link it but I’ve totally forgotten what little html I know already.

hakuna matata

So yesterday saw me at the bus-stop waiting for the bus to school while it poured cat, dogs and oddly sized hamsters outside. The bus finally came but because there was already another bus in the bay it ended up stopping a couple of metres or so away from shelter. The driver opened both the boarding and alighting doors but since it was pouring, all of us in the bus-stop waited for the bus to move forward once the bay was cleared. Instead the bus driver gave us an "if-you-won't-come-to-me-I-sure-won't-go-to-you" look and promptly drove off, leaving the whole bunch of us standing there in stunned silence. Luckily it didn't take long for the next bus to come.

Sometimes I wonder if we really shouldn't give the courtesy lion a nice big comeback.

wtf!

Eh come on la Liverpool....

I hate it that nowadays hearing that the Reds are going to be playing team so-and-so produces the same reaction as hearing that the Lions are in so-and-so competition.

Sure lose one.

Days like these I wish I was a Reading fan....

Why I like being Singaporean

"Chief Justice Chan also announced the appointment of three new Senior Counsels - Sant Singh , Harpeet Singh and Toh Kian Sing."

- CNA 6 Jan 2007

How cool is that. Chinese guy also can become Sikh.

Desaru!

Ok since I'm being a lazy bitch and not going out to ride like I promised myself yesterday night, I'll make up for it by actually doing some blogging. Last weekend was an awesome cap to the holidays with a little trip to the sleepy fishing town of Kampong Sungei Rengit for some much lacked road riding. Problem was, I somehow turned out to be only guy on a road bike who went so that meant I spent almost all of the 90+ km I traversed on my lonesome. Which also meant I got lost, had to call ppl in Singapore for directions, took the long way home and lived my life according to blue distance markers tacker to white concrete buttes for a few hours. I also got rained upon, majestically sunburnt and moo-ed at by a bunch of particularly curious cows. See I told you cycling was fun!



The name Millenium Hotel was perhaps a tad optimistic in my opinion. The hotel reception sold slimming pills and massage machines, the rooms were dusty and smelt of ...well...something and complimentary bottled water meant we could help ourselves to whatever bottled water previous patrons had left behind.



Some pre-setoff narcissim in the toilet like all those hot chick bloggers except I'm not a hot chick nor much of a blogger anyway. Sorry la I still think the jersey is damn cool. Eyes closed not my fault. Too early.

Here comes the sun doo doo doo doo



That'll give the room some character


Cycling, seafood and sleezy hotels. Doesn't get much better than this.


Guess I never really thought the uncle would be a PCD fan


Not exactly the NYFD I suppose


Your typical 6th Ave house...


except this isn't exactly District 10


Ah well back to school..

happy endings

So here we are again. A curtain call, a final bow and then the curtains seemingly complete their descent in the blink of an eye. And then you can’t quite make out if that was applause you’d heard. Oh wait, its not the end yet isn’t it? Just the transition from one scene to another. That’s it. The final scene’s still a long way away isn’t it? That’s when the applause will come; when the crowd breaks out in rapturous appreciation and numerous standing ovations. Yes that’s it.

Isn’t it?

You know how sometimes dreams seem so real it feels as if you’re wide awake and physically there witnessing every sight and sound, feeling every brush against your skin…..and then you wake up and that world is a distant memory? I guess you might say that’s what the year past seems like to me.

A year of road bikes and spandex and a taste for the thrill of high speed, not to mention being left behind. A year of funny races, girls displaying pure grit and rappelling down ropes in busy shopping malls. Of sewing names on pillows, making videos and getting pissed off at slackers with German names, not to mention finding someone I can bitch to who will agree with me (thanks Bern!).

Of mugging, realising how many people I know in the law fac and meeting the girl of my dreams in highly unexpected circumstances.

Of going to America and learning more about myself than I suspect I’ll ever know. Of realising for the umpteenth time He’s there for me no matter what happens. And then forgetting again. Of evil amusement parks, cramped apartments, inane heckling and people from all over the world. Of rigged games, giant soft toys and the total loss of any sort of fear of roller coasters that might have existed before. Of blacks, whites and the rural American.

Of ruined homes, flooded districts and picking out people’s lives from the rubble piece by piece. Of hammers, crowbars and being moved almost to tears by the owner standing off at the side stoically telling us he’s gotten over it.

Of travels, shopping and flings with random English girls for whom you’d helped fix an ipod and then pissing her off when you’d unknowingly snubbed her. Of conflict, being a right arse and travels on your lonesome. Of langa-ing cars, missing flights, Beluga whales and a whole bunch of whale sharks that left my jaw hanging around my ankles for a while. Of Monty Python, Central Park, the New York Fire Department and “We will, we will rock you!” Of having a discussion about Islam and the world with a French-Algerian Muslim and an Italian/Belgian Roman Catholic while looking out at Ground Zero.

Of monster late night study sessions, Fong Seng and blasting music with the windows wound down. Of working harder than I’ve ever worked before and not getting the results to show for it. Of coming to terms with the fact that it doesn’t matter how you feel if she doesn’t feel it too. Of John and Paul and Ringo and George.

The verdict isn’t out yet but one thing’s for sure. It’s been some year.