Saturday, December 25, 2004
Christmas sends me on guilt trips. To all those people who sent me cards and/or presents: thank you very much. Believe it or not, I'm feeling rather sentimental right now (even though I'm simply rubbish at expressing it). I'll make up for this year's Christmas no-show, I promise. Meanwhile, do keep in contact. I'll try, even though (admittedly) I'm not too brilliant at it.
Fooling around with candles on Christmas Eve reignites the pyromaniac in me. Moulding hot wax is fun, and accidental spillage onto skin only has temporary effects. I actually tried writing by candlelight. It is not too hard, once your eyes adjust, but it's not something that I plan on doing regularly.
Had 4 carolling performances at the Esplanade on Christmas. We had a very supportive audience for the last performance, but by then our standards were drooping and we were on autopilot, so... pity. I _still_ haven't managed a flawless performance, so I'm hoping for one without major mistakes. Oh, and the Concourse display is one of those things we could charitably call 'strangely compelling'. It's the most disturbing portrayal of an angelic host that I've ever seen, and children clamber all over the garden.
I'll be in Malaysia from Sunday night to Wednesday, visiting relatives I've not seen in years. Most of that time will probably be spent in my uncle's car. What the heck, at least I finally get to use my passport.
words were spilled on Saturday, December 25, 2004
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Monday, December 13, 2004
Voicelessness is no fun. Sure, it's the ideal excuse for being uncommunicative, but it takes the joy out of watching 'Angels in America' with my sister since it makes commenting, giggling or shrieking plain impossible. That show is bizarre. It's full of brilliant (and quotable) dialogue, but towards the end goes into weird and disturbing religious/blasphemous territory which I can't make head or tail of. It also happens to be one of those rare films to which the phrase 'homoerotic subtext' doesn't apply. There's quite a bit of soap opera (Guy A leaves Guy B for Guy C, who has walked out on his valium-addicted wife. Angst happens.), coarse language and nudity. We were pleasantly shocked.
Had an espionage dream earlier in the morning, which makes for a refreshing change. I got to handle firearms, dress like an adult, pick up a package at Tiananmen Square after giving a series of pre-arranged signals. There was some sort of plot involving double-crossing/ triple-crossing, counterintelligence, a bugged library book that was later stolen during a blackout, but I don't think it was meant to be understood. Guest appearances were made by Morgan Freeman, Elektra, Lady Deathstrike and Wolverine. My brain probably ran out of steam and resorted to substituting authentic spy thriller with comic book fantasy. It's far easier to arrange superpowered duels - clandestine meetings and subterfuge are too cerebral to be the stuff of dreams.
words were spilled on Monday, December 13, 2004
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Monday, December 06, 2004
If I can't find something positive to blog about...
What the hell. I'm doing it anyway.
I can't overcome the writer's block that plagues me whenever I confront my blank 'personal statement' forms and untouched essays. I
can't. How does my mind work? What are my values? What issues are important to me? Oh please. Pseudo-intellectual posturing, maybe, but real insight? I'm retching already.
I suppose I could assemble something out of nothing very much, give it a gloss of sincerity - and work hard at living the half-truth, fervently hoping that in time, the misrepresentation becomes reality. Maybe that's what most people end up doing anyway. Give me a perfect delusion, one that I can really believe and swear up and down by.
I really, really need to get out more. And get a job.
words were spilled on Monday, December 06, 2004
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Sunday, December 05, 2004
For the past week, ever since Bio S wrapped, I have been drifting from bed to computer to dinner table and back to bed in a comfortable, mindless post-exam haze. The week's nearly over, and I think I've had enough bumming around. Slothful indulgences are all very well, of course, but they only satisfy up to a point.
Oh, I've got plans, and time in abundance to carry them out. Life should be good, I shouldn't be complaining of boredom, hey?
words were spilled on Sunday, December 05, 2004
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