i will not be the most coherent today and in fact i will ramble, but to some that is an art form so i suppose i'm in pretty safe territory. its a strange feeling to be caught in, sleepy but unable to sleep, feeling time stretch out to eternity and literally having no desire to do anything. yes, caught, like being ensnared by the slow passing of time. there is thunderous but relatively regular snoring going on in the background, but that is comforting, i think i have unconsciously synced my breathing to match it. analyzing the sound of snore though, snore is never quite constant, the little sudden hitches, or the particularly loud exhalation, obviously not regular enough to be a lullaby

flew in from singapore to doha, where i'm currently wasting away an 8h transit, before heading to new york. the concept of time difference intrigues me; i know there is a rational and logical explanation to all of this, but to my addled sleep deprived and fundamentally unscientific brain, the idea that time can pass and yet not pass, or that time can pass and yet you're back at 4pm, is mind-boggling. i have reached this point where i literally have no idea what time it is where i came from or where i'm about to head to; but given how slowly time passes to me anyway i figure it is too troublesome a concept to deal with right now

removed from social interaction with friends (someone i know calls this intercourse, i find this a strange and amusing word choice) i feel slightly empty. recently i have been very grateful for friends i know i can completely trust, or friends i know have the exact same perspectives as me when it comes to awkward topics. how i will fill this gap when i study overseas eludes me. i don't think i'm the kind of person that's particularly good at keeping in touch, which is in no way a promising prospect

recently i've made a pledge to be a less self-conscious person - yes, i am terrible self-conscious - because i realize how much that hinders possibilities

i feel like i'm writing in point form, gently broaching topics and zooming my way to new ones all the time. it has been ages since i wrote, and i figure writing does for me what i need right now, making sense of this strange void, or maybe just pretending to be introspective so i have some excuse for my inertia 

i am incredibly happy right now. and thankful, too. 

fear is a weight in your heart that you carry with you everywhere you go. sounds silly, but i've never been so scared for an exam before. expectations, pressures, etc etc

but its ok, keeping the faith~

some people are venomous and are meant to be kept at bay. words like dye staining friendships red. i'm glad i found this out long ago. be wary, is all. 

we set limits for ourselves so that we demarcate a line not to cross. remember to trust that rational part of you that made that decision - crossing it in moments of irrationality just make you feel guilty. i have come to realize how little i know of myself, and of those around me; which makes me wonder: if i'm not self-aware, if my spiritual sense does not inhabit the body i live in, yet neither does it the environment around me, what do i know? how little i see and understand of things, how easily my mind and decisions are numbed and tempered by other influences.

i cannot help but wonder gloomy thoughts - but i rationalize, its okay not to be an immediate optimist, what's more important is being able to confront and subvert insecurities and fears. thinking gloomy thoughts is okay, is healthy, if one can rise above it.

On this note, a beautiful part of kundera:

    "The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfilment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
    Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignficant.
    What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?"

we get caught up in the endless tide of concerns; but these are concerns only to this day and to this moment. a healthy remembrance of this is worthwhile, i think, or maybe this is just the part of me who knows that things will not go well and this is mild comfort.

i am dying to read a book (that is not my literature text), to just curl up on a big overstuffed couch and pour my emotions into the fictional lives of a harry or a gilbert. reading is such sweet solace not just because of the warmth of words trickling down my gullet, but because it is a universe unto itself, and no real world fears can seep into the brown-edged pages. i will treat myself to that, one good solid book after prelims.

the perversity of maturity is the in between. caught in the cusp of adulthood, ensnared by the tentacles of youth, not quite comfortable with either skin. jc has been an incredible year (and a half) of doubt. i like to attribute this to coming of age, it seems a brief consolation that everyone goes through this as well. maybe (mostly) the alternative is much too scary - that doubt is propped up by a pillar of evidence, that doubt is a cause for alarm.

i like to think that the strongest people are not those who do not face doubt, but those who struggle past it. this probably comes from some deep-rooted awe of strength, in all its meta uncertainty. i remember a disclosure my sister and i made to each other several years back. we confided to each other the one thing we prayed for every night, and identically revealed that we prayed for strength.

strength to be a better person (even i know how clichéd this sounds): that i might look past others' failings and learn to be more accepting. that i will push myself and reach beyond my own.

i worry intelligence can be lost. or that there's a quota; use too much and all you have left is a bottle that smells like good wine

in the mix of this constant battle between insecurity and determination (confidence and over-confidence?) i will listen to nico stai and make it all better. indulge in the little things that bring me momentary pleasure - i am going to grow flowers in my balcony. the seed packet says they'll take a maximum of 50 days to flower. 50 days to fruition, to an outcome of action. i wish all effort resulted in action.

i am sandwiched between types, a person and land of contradictions and half-baked aspirations. i will celebrate my halloween and my mooncake festival with similar gusto (or with none at all, lacking culture and terribly despondent) and speak with perfectly poised english whilst finishing off exclamations with colloquialism. in the struggle between parts of the whole, there is desperation with which the fragments will cling on to each other and form a shape, barely visible cracks, fissures praying to be healed. it is a singularly unique position, possessing a flexibility that allows the slipping between borders and demarcations. through this all, pray for a sense of self to glimpse between the folds.