Saturday, July 24, 2004
I'm essentially non-confrontational. For good reason, since if it ever comes to a confrontation, my handling of the situation is laughably clumsy and tragically ineffective. Emotional situations are the worst. There's nothing reassuringly logical or
concrete, no shortcuts, no brilliant, easy solutions. There's only blind groping through the chaotic confusion of indefinables. And myself futilely searching for the correct words with which I may argue my case. I tend to lose... a lot. I'm violently averse to verbal combat, which is why I react badly to people who suggest that I take up Law.
I hate confrontations. They frighten me into being defensive and incoherent, thereby exposing my weaknesses. And if they are emotional in nature, things get impossible, because I haven't a clue how to deal with emotion. Properly, that is. The only method I can use to make the problem go away is to make the
person go away. Bad idea? I thought so.
words were spilled on Saturday, July 24, 2004
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Saturday, July 03, 2004
I apologise for being so dead to the world these past few weeks. School term was an exercise in sleepwalking, the holidays became an excuse for me to disconnect entirely...
The IBO farce has once again reminded me of my talent for achieving nothing and impressing no-one in the long run. After all the time spent and stress incurred, I didn't make the selection. They were of course very polite and regretful about it, but it was clear that they didn't have a single good (consolatory, if you will) thing to say about me. The other guy who didn't make it had a 'pleasant personality' and was 'always cheerful'. Of course that couldn't possibly apply to myself. I'd lost my nerve, jinxed my chances, shot myself in the foot, crashed spectacularly. True, it had been, technically speaking, a valuable learning experience and a great privilege. But the finer points eluded me as I fled from NTU on the last day of residential, trying to wash down this bitter pill with a heavy dose of nu-metal angst delivered at full blast down my ear canals.
I need to regain some focus. I need to decide what I
really want - stop mucking around with vague concepts, knowing, understanding and achieving absolutely nothing.
Grand idea, but nevertheless ill-defined and useless. And thus this looping line of logic leads back to its origin and conclusion. Know nothing, do nothing, know even less.
Today, I was told - by my own sister, no less - that I was immature. Naturally, I didn't appreciate it, but that didn't mean she was completely wrong. Stuck in a rut, escapist tendencies, avoiding and hence not progressing - I disgust myself sometimes.
Talk about strange moods. Must be the aftershocks from watching 'Fight Club' - it's Clockwork Orange subversive, schizophrenic nihilism. With freaky subliminal scene splicing, testosterone, gore and a Narrator whom you hope like hell you'll never come to psychologically resemble.
Finally summoned up the guts to check my SAT scores. I was living in dread of seeing my scores because I most stupidly overlooked the last 3 questions on my Verbal, nearly blubbered when the invigilator refused to give me extra time, and went home convinced that I'd just wasted more of my life. As it turned out, the College Board's generosity and scoring system exceeded my wildest hopes, and it gave me a 1600 I did not really deserve. No complaints, though.
words were spilled on Saturday, July 03, 2004
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