Sunday, January 16, 2005
Long ago, I used to have an embarrassing romantic infatuation with stars. I used to write
poetry about them. Sometimes I cringe at the memory, but usually I remember that period with amusement, indulgence, and yes, nostalgia.
Later, I turned it into a sort of general fascination with astronomy. I spent cloudless nights outside with my sister, squinting through a pair of binoculars, hoping to glimpse a nebula, or the rings of Saturn, or the distinctive bands of Jupiter. We did see some things, but without better magnification, we were never quite sure of what we saw. I pored over star maps, tried to identify constellations from my kitchen window, noted their nightly march across the sky, even drew diagrams for future reference.
It wasn't a solitary pursuit. I had friends who were similarly enchanted with the night sky, and we revelled in it together. The fleeting visions of shooting stars in pre-dawn hours at Ubin. The dizzying majesty of a starlit tapestry unsullied by the encroaching urban light haze. The sudden panic that if you didn't hang on to something, you might just slide off the face of the Earth - because the heavens are eternally stationary and the ground beneath your back is
moving.
These days, I hardly pay any attention to the stars. I haven't been doing so for years. Mould has long since made my binoculars useless, a telescope is beyond my budget, I've been so preoccupied with down-to-earth matters. The stars are nothing but indistinct, random pinpricks of feeble light - their past glory a faded memory swiftly slipping away with time, like everything else. And then, the clouds close in.
... ...
I'm becoming addicted to a nocturnal lifestyle. This
has to be unhealthy. It really ruins job opportunities when prospective employers call in the morning, forcing me to wake up in order to conduct a groggy, brain-addled conversation that I would later regret.
What
am I doing this late at night? Glaring disgustedly at trite and mechanical application essays, trying to inject a spark of something,
anything. Without much success, I might add.
What are your career aspirations? Good heavens, I don't know. Not the finer details, at least. What am I supposed to do when I'm non-committal to the core? When short-term uncertainties are already bad enough, not to mention
major career decisions?
Damn. The path of least resistance is the most tempting, but... but I WILL finish this, nevertheless. At least no one can blame me for not trying. (Ah, but as for trying hard enough?)
words were spilled on Sunday, January 16, 2005
