Tegence18's Xanga

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Sat, 03 May 2008 00:01:51 GMT

Farewell!!!!

Moving to http://wyrd-sanctuary.blogspot.com/

So long, and thanks for all the Swaths of Nightshade!

Monday, April 21, 2008

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 23:29:23 GMT

INVICTUS

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul

Sigh. Exams always put me in the worst of moods.

Am especially worried about this one. Have no ideas why, but I feel that am incredibly unprepared this time around. And this is final year, the big one, the one that counts. Yet I feel burnt out and demotivated. Law is a shackle that is binding my heart tight, suffocating the life out of me.

Not been an easy week. For some reason, studying brings out my inner demons. I guess when you're by yourself, with only yours books to keep you company, your mind starts to wander and memories return to haunt you. Don't know if its just me, but been happening to me of late: remembering all kinds of stuff I'd rather forget until all I feel is empty and drained. It almost feels like I'm exxperiencing Lost-style flashbacks from time to time.

Don't worry, these inner demons are nothing serious..not like I've killed anyone or anything. (not yet, at least) Just memories of stupid mistakes, wasted opportunities, and sad twists of fate that will stay with me forever.

I'd apologise for the lack of updates, but I've done so too many times in my previous posts, and I don't really feel to be too much at fault. Fact is, final year preoccupies me so much I'lucky I have time to write this entry.

The last two lines of Invictus are my personal favorite: I take strength from the words of this poem, and try to put my faith in God that all will come out alright.

Seriously, exams suck.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 15:40:13 GMT

A HISTORY OF THE 2008 MALAYSIAN POLITICAL ELECTIONS.

As told by angry singing Frenchmen.

Long ago, there lived a prosperous nation in the heart of Asia. Its citizens worked hard and lived their lives in relative peace. Despite this, however, there were underlying tensions, and despite everything looking good at face value, there were troubles brewing beneath the surface:

The current Ruling Government was not exactly the model of hope and stability:

And many dreamt of a fairer, more ideal nation, a utopia of bliss, though they were often silenced:

But soon, people could take it no more. And so, rising in one voice, united in their dreams of a better world, they took to the streets in protest, riots, demonstrations; calling all who were displaced and marginalized to join their crusade:

Again, those in power did not like this, and did all they could all do to weaken these dissenters:

But the day of truth came, and in a stroke of fate, the ruling party’s power across the land was diminished, as most of their territories were lost to the opposition. In some states, only a single seat of their power was retained:

And in others, power was lost completely. And the high-ranking ones, many who had retained their power for years, found themselves relieved of office:

And the Ruling Powers, regretful of their mistakes, had to re-examine their policies, knowing that it is the people who have the power in the end.

(All clips from Les Miserables, best musical ever. Pretty similar to the situation back home, I have to say. Ad this entry is a joke la..no malice intended to anyone.)

Friday, February 29, 2008

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 01:09:43 GMT

[edit: This feels like a cheap publicity stunt!]

ADIOS, SANCTUARY.

There is just no time to blog nowadays, and after some thought, shutting this down for a while.

I think I may do one more entry: the promised Questions about Teg entry, and then like a childhood toy, you too will be put aside as I reluctantly move on to bigger things.

Farewell, beloved Sanctuary of the Weird. You were awfully good to have. Enjoyed penning my thoughts and honing my creativity, and seeing people's reactions to them.

Thanks to all who have endured this sites nonsense throughout the year.

Terence.

***********************************************************************************

EDIT: 13/3/2008

Damn it, I sound so melodramatic in this entry!!!! What was I THINKING when I wrote this???? Like a childhood toy??? That has to be the most overblown simile I've ever used, and keep in mind, I've used a doozy of them.

It almost sounds like a suicide note, and I'm suprised I didn't end this entry with a 'Boohoo goodbye world '

The Sanctuary is being opened, because I miss the freedom of penning my thoughts to the world too much. Real entries on their way, not the sad fillers you've been having from time to time, but entries with more meat on them than aa doner kebab.

Groan. Yes, it also means reading these sad sad similes again. But ah, nothing is perfect. Said the desperate bachelor when viciting Bangkok.

Ok, I'll stop these before I get a restraining order and then HAVE to close down this thing.

Entry coming soon!

Tegence

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Wed, 30 Jan 2008 00:33:04 GMT

A QUICK NOTE.

If you ever ever wanted to ask Tegence something (be it about himself, the way of his life, or why do birds suddenly appear, everytime you are near) ask him NOW before the 2nd of February. Leave a comment or stuff..thinking of trying something for the next entry.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 23:22:12 GMT

POSSIBLY THE MOST EMBARASSING ENTRY I WILL EVER WRITE.

Every once in a while, there comes a showdown of such epic proportions that the world is never the same after it.

This happens rarely. Once in a blue moon, once in a thousand years, only when the planets align. And it usually happens when a man meets his nemesis. When two people or objects both evenly-matched in every aspect come together in one powerful, resounding clash; that shakes the very fabric of the universe.

Superman VS Doomsday. Darth Vader VS Luke Skywalker. Lindsay Lohan VS Hillary Duff.

And now, two champions come together for an incredible SHOWDOWN:

TEGENCE!!!!! VS CAN OPENER!!!!!

Yes, rarely, if ever, have two individuals so identical when it comes to power, intelligence and good looks come together in such an amazing battle.

And what be the prize they fight over, you may ask?

Mutton curry!!! Yes, the most delicious divine delight of a dish! Food of the blessed, rarely if ever has there been such a wonderful masterpiece of cuisine made. (Excepting perhaps wasabi-flavoured chips. But that’s another entry.)

See, the story began yesterday afternoon, when I got a little peckish. Stomach rumbling, I staggered to my kitchen cupboard, where I examined the many wonderful morsels I had available to eat.

Realised, in the end, that all I had were the holy trinity of student food: great Rice, simplest of all foods, and cornerstone of everything my culture stood for; Bread, oh precious flour that went through the fires of baking that men may have satisfaction; and precious Pasta, whose wiggly goodness has made many a good meal.

Unfortunately, all the three Most Wondrous of Foods required extra things to go with them to taste nice, and due to cold weather, and my holding of the post of President of the Lazy Buggers United, was somewhat hesitant to go out and buy things like eggs or such.

And for a while I was seduced by the dark force of Eevil, the lord of Anti-Nourishment that came upon me in the shape of Maggi instant noodles. Oh, they came upon me like a pack of demons, begging me to open them and taste their sweet noodly goodness. Oh wretched deceiver of men, oh monstrous fiends, with your promises of quick food and yummy goodness! How many men have been led to baldness by your wickedness??

(Sorry, been re-reading Dante’s Inferno recently, and its influence has crept into my work.)

Was about to succumb to unholy temptation, when my eyes, (sharpened from constant practice of picking out pretty girls among crowds and crowds of people wrapped in enough layers of clothing to clothe the whole of Petaling Jaya) picked out a gem among the stores of staple food.

MUTTON CURRY!!!! WITH POTATOES!!!

I love mutton curry. Seriously. Who doesn’t? (Say you do and I will hunt you down and force you to listen to my attempts at power rock. And then make you do my Company Law tutorial. You have been warned.) And in this place where everything tastes like cardboard blended with chalk, and they give things weird names..pate sounds like some kind of rock-based mineral, and scampi sounds like a festival they’d celebrate in the Carribean. And I have no idea what bubble and squeak is, but it sounds like a brand of detergent, and that’s not appetising.

Anyway, I digress.

So, thankful for the wonderful blessing, I suddenly realised..to partake of it, I needed to well, open the freaking can.

Now, let me get something straight. I’m not COMPLETELY inept. I’m actually pretty capable, being able to do incredible things like remember annoying songs for years after I’ve heard them, find sexual innuendo in everything, and match my socks.

And I can open cans. Yes I can. It just that I usually use a simple, manual one much like this, where you just poke in one end and do your cranking business (gee, that sounded dirty):

Instead of those new-fangled, turn-wheely, crank-pokey things that often resemble some kind of medieval torture device. They’re more fun to use too. I’d rather poke and tear with a sharp object than turn a wheel anyday. Its just cooler, and appeals more to my long-suffering masculinity.

Unfortunately, I had left my Macho Can Opener in the floor downstairs, and I had no key to go downstairs. (rotten Sherfield security.)

And so, had three options.

One: Starve, and let my housemates find my rotted skeleton when they came back from their classes. In normal circumstances, it would scar them horribly, but frankly,

We’re law students, and therefore, madness would be a wondrous blessing to our tortured minds.

Two: Freeze the can and drop it from the third floor, hoping it would open (and not shatter on impact, giving damn freeloading squirrels a free meal)

Three: Learn to use the damn can opener.

And so, perhaps unwisely, decided to go with Option Three.

And so, tried to open the damn can with the stupid thing.

You would have better luck asking a monkey to perform open-heart surgery.

Honestly, tried my absolute bestest, put this wheel there, put that gear over there, tried hitting the can with the damn opener, even tried REASONING with the damn can..but to no avail!!!!

Damnit, why can’t manufacturers think of easier ways to store food?? If it were me, I’d just freeze everything and put them into paper bags. Just put them in a cooler and carry the around. Easy as that. Why oh why do you torture the hungry consumer by sealing food in iron and making them need to learn to use some fancy thing to open them? Think of the other things that brain cells could be used for! What if someone had a brilliant idea about how to solve world hunger and cure AIDS and get rid of the Olsen twins, but couldn’t remember this idea for long because his brain was too busy trying to recall how to open a DAMN CAN? Show some consideration!!!

Reasoned with myself: if my prehistoric ancestors could look around at rocks and sticks and so on and go on to make fire and the wheel and language and so on, I CAN WORK THIS FRIGGING THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Again, tried flipping the damn thing upside down, turning it on its side, looking for hidden buttons, etc, but to no avail. Gave up. Realised, sadly, that if I had lived in prehistoric times, I’d probably have been eaten by a dinosaur on Day 1.

Decided that if this simple piece of technology was giving me problems, a complex piece of technology could be the answer. And so, turned to the Internet.

A brief summary of how various Internet websites assisted me in my quest:

Google: Turned up thousands of results for ‘how to use can opener.’ These included, among other things, a history of the can opener, experts criticising the design of the can opener, a site with thousands of pictures of can openers, and would-be philosophers comparing life and evolution to can-openers. Headache.

Yahoo Answers: Pretty useful, as other people had similar problems. Questions were answered, but the explanations given were pretty complex, and had further headache trying hard to figure out which was the ‘moving handle’ and so on.

Wikipedia: This was very helpful, even had a video showing how to use a can opener. Unfortunately, the opener in the video was not the same type of mine, so no help either.

WikiHow: It is amazing, for a website with pages like ‘How to Get People to Clap Together’ and ‘How to Look Sexy When Naked’ to not have ANY damn page on can openers!!!!!

Youtube: This website was not useful at all. It did, however, have some hilarious videos by Ali G, and some incredible songs by Stephen Lynch (he's the guy doing the Kill a Kitten song, he's incredible, look him up!) that made me forget sadness of fate for a second.

Xanga: Very few users wanted to write blog entries on how they managed to extract yummy goodness from sealed cans. Do not understand why. Surely this would give them feelings of accomplishment?

And so, having found nothing (except the discovery that the Internet as a source of info is vastly overrated) had one last option; turn to friends. Was somewhat embarrassed to do so, but eventually, starvation won over dignity.

First knocked on door of friendly roommate. He decided to help me, but after some effort, he admitted he didn’t know how to use the damn thing also. Don’t blame the guy, he’s from the Middle East, most problem solving for him would probably involve large quantities of explosives.

(OK OK I’m joking! I’m joking!!! Sorry sorry..insensitive joke)

And so, knocked on door of fellow coursemate from Taylor’s, who rolled her eyes when she heard of my predicament. She is the same person who frequently came to my aid when I end up locking myself out, and is probably wondering what horrible sins she must have done in the past to end up with me as a housemate. I predict as we speak, she’s filling up room transfer forms (for her? Or for ME?), and fantasizing about me being eaten alive by the ravenous squirrels of Sherfield Hall.

Coursemate walked to the kitchen..

..and opened the can in two seconds.

Wanted the earth to swallow me up at that very second. Ohh the shame. Coursemate then departed, probably to give my name to Russian hitmen.

Shame, however, gave way to delight, as I found myself basking in the goodness of mutton curry. With potatoes!

(I later learnt, after heating food up, that the tin label was misleading: should have been called ‘Mutton Curry. With One Potato.’ Or to be more precise: “Mutton Curry. With One Tiny, Almost Mutated Potato.’ Actually, given the foods hardness, perhaps the best name should have been ‘Mutton Curry. With Brick Fragment Painted Yellow.” But I digress.)

So I got a semi-decent meal, and in the process, learnt to operate a piece of complicated machinery. See the things an overseas experience teaches you? Stay tuned for Round Two when Tegence faces another deadly foe: The Hall Ironing Board.

Oh, and anyway, for people out there in my same situation (or in case I forget how, knowing me):

Take opener (the type with single sharp wheel), turn it on side.
Find sharp bit (usually next to the sharp wheel thing, on handle with the turning crank) and poke it into can top, making sure wheel is directly touching top of can
Turn crank, and let can open as result

See? Its so easy, even an idiot could do it!

I am a disgrace to the human race.

Monday, January 07, 2008

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 21:41:14 GMT

THERE IS A LOT OF WEIRD STUFF ON THE INTERNET NOWADAYS.

A new year is here, and it brings many cinematic goodies which I seriously need to catch.Being an unconventional person however, the films I want to catch are not exactly your average family fare.

Everyone loves a superhero film, but the stuff we have is so passe. Forget Iron Man. Screw Batman Begins. The Italian Spiderman is the superhero I'm rooting for in future. Seriously, if the mustache doesn't make criminals want to fall on their knees and beg for mercy, I don't know what will.

This movie The Machine Girl also looks like ten kinds of awesome, and I am tempted to see it just to see the drill bra in action. This movie also expresses the problem with Japanese anime (and indeed most of the things to come from that wcky land): most of its stuff starts out good and normal, but progresses into something so twisted and deranged at the end you're not the same in the head anymore.

And this film also looks good, but I dare not write a synopsis because I know it will make everyone think of me as being more insane and perverted than I already am. Go look it on Wikipedia:

Yes, I've already seen this film. But McLovins awesomeness should be savored several times for the full effect. If he does not win an Oscar I will be deeply offended and pout angrily.

And Johnny Depp plus Musical equals GOLD.

Yes, am letting poesters and trailers write my entry this week. So sorry, been awfully demotivated and busy, no time for a real entry this week. Blame the cold, which is enough to give yetis frostbite.

Monday, December 24, 2007

Mon, 24 Dec 2007 01:45:23 GMT

THE JOYS OF BEING AT HOME

A friend wanted to buy a present for a certain purple-loving friend of his through Amazon. Since the gift fell below the free-delivery charge level, he asked if I wanted to buy anything to up the price, and I immediately thought of this book.

This is one book that deeply impacted my childhood. Seriously. It is scary how much I identify with poor tortured Luke Leman, protagonist of this tale, and how much Judith Clarke has influenced my writing over the years. Rereading it now, strangely, I feel myself empathising more with the other characters in the tale, the poor supporting characters, having to deal with a strange outcast of a boy that seems to bring ruin to them in ways they cannot understand.

I read a bad review on the Net about this book, where a reader described it as ‘depressing’, and said she “çouldn’t understand what Luke was so depressed about.” That reader was lucky, I have to say. It must be nice to have never once been an angsty teenager caught up in a world where everything seems to go against you. Must be nice to never have felt frustration, heartbreak, and total confusion yet be unable to explain just why ou feel so horrible. Something I could totally relate to..

Rereading the book also makes me realise I have grown a lot since the depressed, sullen days of my younger self. Seriously, I’ve been through so much, changed awfully much..I really should blog about it.

My apologies for not blogging in a while, have somehow lacked motivation. Will honestly try to update more in the future.

Been an awesome couple of weeks, mainly due to the sheer coolness of being back home. In time back, have argued theology into the wee hours of the morning, exposed to the horrible yet brightly coloured world of Japanese gay comics, dressed a Santa in drag and coconut boobs, and visited friends all over. Also cried for many day over the atrocity that was the Golden Compass. Seriously, that movie was messed up more than a trash bin at a toxic dumpsite. They didn’t make that show out of celluloid and film..why waste material when you can just string the story together on the pieces on my broken heart?

As a man who loves those books more than some of his own family members [the ones who don’t give enough angpaus..hint hint] the mere viewing of that show will cause me to go into frenzied screams and wild tantrums far worse than when Theoden died in Lord of the Rings. Will write long angry rant on the film someday, because I am a vicious old coot with much time on my hands.

Also discovered that virtually all my relatives, from my middle aged aunts to my tiny seven year old cousin, have all heard about my fire-alarm setting escapade and are teasing me accordingly. Ah, the sorrow that is my life.

Speaking of old coots, turned two decades lately..thanks guys for all the wishes and such, and the many cakes received. If I become so heavy I end up weighing down the plane back to the UK, though, you have my ticket to compensate me for, troll!

Almost got into row at Heathrow airport. Was helping a friend carry stuff back from the UK, among them being a large tin of dogfood. [Don’t ask, I have odd friends] Which was fine, if not for the fact it messed up the departure airways. Seems as you cannot carry liquids into planes, [for fear of bombs]

ASTRO is freaking 3-digit channels now!!! Honestly, arrrgh! I go all the way back home and all I want to do is enjoy my heavily censored, commercial rich production-values-of-a-car-wreck local productions, and they spoil even that. Why do they do this? Its just inconvenient! Some people don’t have the memory power to remember three digits, did you guys never think of that??? Some peoples memories aren’t exactly sharp as..what was I talking about again? What the heck was I on about? An what happened to my housekeys? You have them right? Don’t you? Don’t you?

Anyways, since I’ve lost the thread of my argument, and my fingers are too lazy to scroll upwards. Shall dedicate this entry to:

THE FIVE THINGS TEGENCE MISSES HERE MOST OTHER THAN FRIENDS, FAMILY, AND HANNAH TAN.

Malls that do not close at ridiculously early hours.

A strange anomaly seems to overcome all malls here after 7 pm: all of them shut down. Like sea shacks caught up in the wake of quarantine from an infectious disease, every shopping mall calls it a day and closes its doors after this hour.

Leaving most of us at a complete loss late at night. Given that the concept of mamak is strange and terrifying to these scone-eating British, what in the name of monkey fingers are we to do after dinner? How ever are we to carry out the beautiful time-honoured Malaysian tradition of lepak (a word meaning ‘hang around aimlessly doing nothing’) when we have no places to do it here? And don’t tell me to hang around aimlessly at home: ITS NOT THE SAME.

Seriously, what is the point of closing down so early? Isn’t that just losing business opportunity? What about those poor people who suddenly feel like buying a hot water bottle at 8 pm or a table lamp at 9.45? How are you going to answer to them, huh? Huh?

Malls here all close at 10 or 11, and that is the way they should be, everywhere. Do their owners really need so much sleep? Take afternoon naps, or sleep on the job, like the rest of us regular Joes. Sheesh.

Piracy

(For all you fangirls out there, you owe me big.)

Oh Malaysia! Land of cheap DVDs and VCDs and various other three-letter abbreviations! Where our entertainment industry is so advanced we receive movies way way before they hit the theatres, and at ridiculously cheap rates, great proof that time travel and economic stability may indeed be possible.

I miss going down to pasar malams and just stocking up on all the cheap movie imitations I can carry. Granted, the video quality makes the films look like they were shot by an Parkinson’s sufferer hit by an epileptic fit, and have subtitles written by retarded five-year-olds, but deep down, they add to the beauty of the Malaysian pirated experience. Especially since they are immune to the castrating powers of the Censorship Board, which means you can see people kiss and say vulgar, despicable words like sex without fear, you corrupt-minded person you.

Car!!!!!

God, I’ve missed you, Laura!!! Oh what fun it is to ride and sing, a driving song tonight!

Walking everywhere, honestly, sucks harder than an overworked plunger. How do the British do it? Walking everywhere they go, up and down. If there wasn’t a sea in the middle, they’d probably walk down to Malaysia for their holidays. Their feet must be hard as steel. Insane.

ME, on the other hand, am sick of walking. Especially for grocery shopping, there are few fates than walking back several miles carrying tons and tons of household necessities (mostly the holy trinity of student dining; pasta, rice and booze..oh beloved booze.). And having to wake up extra early to endure half-an-hour foot journeys to lecture halls. Is there a trishaw or camel service in Reading? I’d be its number one customer.

Been driving all over the place since I’ve returned, me and Laura had a lot of catching up to do. How I’ve gotten by without her for so long, I have no idea.

Food!

We Malaysians boast a lot of our achievements. Tallest buildings. (Once). Tallest mountain. (In southeast Asia). First gay in space. (Apparently, you can never tell nowadays.) Biggest roti canai and longest coin chain and most people with nothing better to do except set mindless records and so on.

But the greatest thing we have ever done, which should be remembered through the centuries, our cultural contribution tht should put us in the sphere of great nations like Sparta and Rome and Egypt and CloudCuckooLand and so forth, is char kuay teow. Honestly. The best thing ever. The ancient Greeks had something remotely similar, a food almost as wonderful, but they called it ambrosia and it was only available to the gods.

Here, its available to all, making us the luckiest people ever. Together with other local delights, like ais kacang and roti canai and murtabak and ochien and mee goring mamak and nasi Pattaya and curry chicken and wanton mee and roti I Love You and sup kambing and bak kut teh and curry laksa and durians and assam laksa and cendol and kuehteow soup and cheese naans and goring pisang and apoms and chee cheong fun and satay and ketupat and kuih lapis and kuih talam and rojak and Ipoh hor fun and dim sum and I could go on but I’m afraid my drool would short circuit my keyboard.

We have the best food. Anyone who says otherwise deserves to be buried underneath a mountain of flaming durians.

5. Weather

It is too damn cold in the UK. Seriously, what with the wind and the rain and the darkness that hits you at 4 pm, I think the true ruler of the country is Storm from the X-Men, with a bad case of that time of month.

I’m surprised the country is not swarming with emo people in tight leather corsets, given how depressing the weather is. Honestly, I think if I stayed here just a while longer, in this subzero weather that would make polar bears teeth chatter, I’d be more gloomy than I already am, which is considerably a lot. Every blog entry would be a description of the different ways the weather depresses me, and my Writing Credit would be Nervous Shock and Mental Anguish over the Frigging Cold.

Malaysian heat is way awesome. Frankly, if it wasn’t against obscenity laws and such, I think I’d cavort around everywhere wearing next to nothing. Which frankly, I think would have my Visa rejected the NEXT time I want to return from the UK, but hey, comfort overrules all, doesn’t it?

And by the way: MERRY BLESSED CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 20:46:42 GMT

HOW DID IT COME TO THIS?

I wonder if life is easier for other people, or if they are just better at hiding their pain.

Do people fall in love because they truly want somebody, or is it just because they’re lonely?

Random postcards on PostSecret.

God, I love PostSecret. Such a simple concept, taken to such a beautiful level.

I realise I have been absent from this thing for way, way too long. What can I say, been awfully busy nowadays. These past few weeks have definitely been the most stressful of my life, packed with tons of projects, obligations and stuff to do that I feel I’m working myself to the bone at times. I know that given how skinny I am, that may not seem that extreme, but trust me, its not that nice.

Quite an interesting month. Been stunned at the always so dramatic twists of Y: The Last Man, discovered in the most torturous and profane way possible that my room does not have hot water at 3.30 am in the morning, attempted to get strangled by a statue, and eaten the worst nasi lemak in the history of the universe.

Went to Nottingham Games. Team Reading put up an admirable effort, but sadly did not really win anything. Met up with one high school friend, one A-Levels friend, and one primary school friend. Notts is a nice place. Like Oxford, except they seem to have an overwhelming fetish for Robin Hood. Considering it’s the villain in the story [good old Sheriff of Notts] that comes from their little place, one wonders why this is so.

Weather getting ridiculous. Wind blows like crazy, and it rains every other day. Honestly, remember my earlier entry when I said talking about the weather was a pathetic thing that only people that had nothing else better to do did? I take that back. Here, the national pastime is complaining about the damn weather. You can spend hours griping how gloomy it is, and reminiscing on lovely summers and the one day it didn’t rain last autumn.

Been feeling somewhat distant from God lately. I think I miss my old CELL group.

Lectures going well. Rather eccentric Family Law lecturer. Legal Skills, aka English for Retards, is ending soon, hurrah. Will possibly blog in detail about this wretched subject some day.

Apart from that, been feeling awfully conflicted over the past few days. One reason I have not been blogging recently is because on some days, I feel extremely happy, and on others, I feel extremely gloomy, and given the length of these entries, it becomes hard to maintain a consistent tone to the blog. Sometimes, the mere thought of blogging, of letting the world hear my voice and see what I’m truly thinking, scares me more than my greatest nightmares.

Anyways, a friend of mine sent me an invite on Facebook the other day for a cause called To Write Love on Her Arms, and it somehow piqued my interest.

See, one of the annoying things about Facebook (fine website that it is) is that people seem to adore swamping my account with millions and millions of invitations for the most pointless applications, and innumerable types of causes [Legalise Marijuana and Society for the Appreciation of Slovakian Models, for one thing].

But the name of this cause interested me, being the right mix of poignancy and vagueness. Had no idea what it was about, was wondering if there was an organization out there specializing in kidnapping girls and branding ‘LOVE’ on their arms in bright red markers, or something like that. Seems a lot more fun than causes to fund the arts or support women’s rights, and definitely wanted a piece of the action!!!

What I found, instead, was this:

http://www.twloha.com/the_story.php

Now, I’ve read a ton of stuff in my life, most of it really good, but damn if that wasn’t the most beautiful piece of writing I’ve ever read in my life. Like Chicken Soup for the Soul, only more powerful somehow, and not as sappy. The words just flowed like poetry, telling a story made up of starshine and broken dreams and the faint glow of hope. I wish I could write like this. I do not know who this Jamie Tworkowski is, but with the passion he infuses into his writing, the beauty in his sentences, the sheer power in his beautiful metaphors and phrases..his tale is amazing. If I could have half the gift he has, I would be more than happy.

The story is true, by the way, and the organization helps those struggling with self-harm, depression, injury and suicide. They seem a very worthy and well-meaning group, so go support their cause, yeah? Check them out and join the Facebook cause.

Reading that also touched something within me, and made me realise something that I hadn’t been thinking about in a long time.

Life should be more like this, you know? More about helping others, making a difference in other’s lives, being there for one another. There is too much greed and selfishness and despair in the world, and we are not doing anything to stop it. Too often, we just get caught up in our own little lives, chasing the pounds and the dollars and the ringgit, until we forget that there’s more things in life than green paper that folds, conveniently ignoring the pain that others suffer everyday.

Whoever has the most toys wins, that is the way of the world. But too often we try to keep up to the ways of the world when we should be focused on changing it instead.

And I too have fallen victim to it. Ask me what I want to do now, and I will tell you: Í want to get good marks for third year, then go home and do the CLP, then practise. Possibly go into Company Law, the financial sector. Why? Because that is where the money is.”

How did it come to this? How did I become a money-hungry slave to the rat race? It wasn’t supposed to be like this..I was going to be a journalist that wrote books and had crazy adventures while travelling the world, for Frodo’s sake.

Money is a wonderful thing and all (you get to buy some pretty awesome magazines with lovely pictures with it), but its not everything. And I would do well to remember it..keep my priorities straight.

After all, we lawyers are stereotyped enough as it is..

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 20:32:38 GMT

MEDITATIONS ON A COLD, GLOOMY ENGLISH NIGHT.

‘Human life is nasty, brutish and short.’

Thomas Hobbes

This is the best DAMN book I have ever read in a long, long time. Seriously, China Mieville is an amazing writer: not only is his language captivating, but damn, his imagination is so powerful I think it has the potential to power generators. Honestly. His Bas-Lag is the most original and incredible fantasy world I’ve ever seen: who the heck needs dwarves, elves and orcs when you can have cactus-people, women with the heads of scarabs, hulking frog-mages, and a psycho revolutionary with the arm of a praying mantis??

Most fantasy is starting to be generic and dull, but not Mr Mieville: damn, I don’t know WHAT he smoked to come up with Perdido Street Station, but I want some of that!

Not doing Nano this year anymore. Impossible to handle with a script to write, a newspaper review volunteering, and normal studying obligations. A shame, my modern day tale of love and necromancy was going oh so well.

Discovered that I have a hidden love for posters, and dragons, and posters with dragons, and that there is no concept of a censorship board here at all.

Seriously, was quite an experience to go into a cinema where they DON’T cut out profanity, kissing, or nudity. Eye-opening. Especially a movie like Good Luck Chuck, eyes open until want to fall out! All the topless women on the big screen..was either a very surreal nightmare or a dream come true in the strangest of ways.

Also have to say, that with all the nudity in the film, Jessica Alba remains fully clothed most of the time and there is not a single really hot scene with her. For this the director should be shot and his body fed to wild chimpanzees. How dare he!

Anyway, have been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching over the past few days.

[I can hear you sigh: oh God, its going to be another of THOSE type of entries.]

I have realised that I am a very detached individual.

A lot of times, the world and other people do not make sense to me, and I find myself wishing I was away from everything. Many things that seem to be the center of other people’s lives either bore me or repulse me.

They tell me I think differently from many other people, and I think its kind of true: at times I feel that I am a stranger when it comes to life. I’ve never been the type that fits in completely: I’m like a jigsaw piece that needs to be bent or cut to fit into the whole picture.

And sometimes I’m glad for this: sometimes I think I don’t want to fit in. I like to be on the borders, the outside, detached and away from other people and their ‘crucial matters’ which all seem so petty to me. Perceptions, relationships, class politics..I want nothing to do with all these things, and would rather stay out of these murky grounds. But other people end up drawing me into these things, and this is where the trouble begins.

I also realize that all this while, I have been trying to live up to unrealistic expectations imposed onto me by other people, and it is these expectations that end up making me tortured inside. Other people, it seems to me, are experts in telling other people just how they should run their lives. Too often they keep telling me I should behave in certain ways, do certain things, until I start believing them and start altering myself.

Which I will no longer do.

Apologies for gloominess of this entry. Subzero weather starting to get to me.