not so fast

Took some time off to let Facebook remind me of the things which happened this year. I had the thought that the year flew by, now I reconsider that notion.
The pictures are vivid. Really vivid. I can remember when I was really smiling and when I was making for the camera. Those tell-tale shots with my hand on a phone... I remember the issues which they signify, events which did not make it to film.

The small things all add up. Many things have changed. So have I.

Some for the better, a few for the worse.
I thought I was growing well in the army, but school and such proved that I was in fact in somewhat of a hiatus.
The mistakes I've made in school till date reminds me that I have much to learn and grow.

I wish I have time to sit someone down and talk about this year. With pictures, walk myself by walking them through.
There is time though, I can be sure about that. I hope I grasp it.

intended audience

I was pondering over the different sort of reactions people give when you talk to them about a particular blog post or journal entry they made.

Some are immediately excited, they are sort of glad that someone shares the same thoughts act.
Then there are the defensive ones who assault you with all forms of accusations of stalking and that it creeps them out and you should stop it or they will up their privacy (which some really carry out :O).

I wonder why, and if I want to give their character the benefit of the doubt, maybe it boils down to intended readers.
Not everyone who keeps a blog is honest about knowing that a blog is public. I.e, whatever you published is really freely open to scrutiny from the public. So why do they still do it? Why not keep one in their silly laptops or on tangible paper?

I think most bloggers have intended readers. People they try to get to amidst a sea of possible readers. When you take interest in their blogs but they never took interest in you, they get... disappointed.
I don't know. It's a cauldron of intentions and emotions there.
I think it's something like disappointment and then all sorts of indignation. They may even be mad at themselves, for failing to tailor their posts in a way which attracts only the desired attention.

Then there are those who are really aware. Who blogged because they don't even care if anyone reads it. Any reader is a pleasant surprise. They don't care who exactly reads it either, though preferably if anyone has something to say, it better be intelligent.

I think I'm describing myself. Back when I had a tagbox, I received a fair share of shit comments. There are people who decked themselves in anonymous avatars and offer a wise crack or 2.
One I distinctly remember was when this boy from JC (when I was in JC. Yes I term him "boy" for reasons) came and offered a "don't worry, she will be loved" in response to some musings over the breakup I had in J2.

That's the sort of thing that ticks me off. I don't feel stalked, neither am I motivated to shut down my blog in someways. But seriously, if anything, such comments are the ones which fully warrant a negative response (which can well be a no-reply).

Whereas for those stalker accusers, I don't even have one thing to say. You put your blog up, it's open. If your first reaction is "Why did you stalk me?", deep within the recedes of your mind you did it all intentionally for CERTAIN stalkers to stalk you.
So if you're already into exposing yourself intentionally for stalking, don't get picky. Face the music.

to like someone

A thought crossed my mind today. What makes us like someone?

It seems like a pretty ridiculous question, some even doubt an answer. It's not a rational thing, it just happens. So they say.
I'm not so sure. I think there is reason to investigate this. Why? (Gosh I can feel my writing mod lessons creeping in right now!)
The thing, I observe that our hearts lead us to places we shouldn't be. It's odd because some people think that when it feels right, it is right. Some think that the special something makes the call. The special something happens with special someones and thereby signals the single flower amidst the forest.
Apparently not! Have not your feeling led you places you shouldn't (and for the more rational, didn't) want to be? Well what do "places" here mean?

I mean, if you have experienced, a girl who is incredibly intriguing but somehow there's something doesn't tick well at all. For instance, maybe she's this rich girl from some other country, with parents who enthusiastically believe in arranged marriages? Or how about someone who's everything but Christian? How about...
It goes on, and I assure you, into even more specific categories. I don't want to think about all of that now.

But it strikes me.

For one, I admit to liking multiple girls at any given, general, instance. I agree however, that there is always one who is different. Vastly outclassing the rest in hierarchy. Not in terms of class, intellect or anything. In something... even I don't know.
Just one, just one girl enjoys the privilege of ever appearing in the dreams. Just one whom you're not only happy, but pleased and overwhelmed whenever you see her. Just this one whose reactions feel like a crystal mirror, who seems to be acutely responding to all the ugliness in me. Just this particular girl whose happiness seems tantamount. You wish you were there whenever she needed help. You always went over the top when it comes to assisting her. You drop everything, you search the internet dry for answers. You run, not walk when there is something she needs.
Whereas the rest... if they got caught in a tight situation earlier in the day you don't feel the same sense of loss. Sometimes.. you just laugh it off. You prioritize acting cool.
But the girl is different. You forget to. Sometimes you sit back and wonder if the way you behaved made you look more like a girl. And you wonder if you should artificially bolster your chauvinistic side. These plans never work. They always fall flat.

But yet. This girl... at the back of your mind you know she's kinda incompatible. Strangely, fatally incompatible. You try to picture how an evening would be spent with her... and nothing quite surfaces. You marvel at how the random events you have had unfolded effortlessly. They were enjoyed thoroughly but evidently never to be replicated.
You think you have exchanged words over deep topics before but you cannot be sure if you can pull it off again. At any rate, getting her will feel like a lifetime achievement, yet possessing her feels so.. futile.
Sometimes you want something so much until the only thought which stands a chance of sobering you is "and then? So what?"
And you never quite find the answer.

Maybe she likes you too. In the same special way. Tragically, neither of you have the answer. The drag is killing you both, her eyes fall and with that, you.

So special... and yet ultimately replaceable. As life rolls on, the awkwardness cements the impossibility. Some other special person comes into play and you feel this nonsense again. Maybe this time it all works out. Maybe not.

Either way, I don't see the answer I desire. If it only works out now, what's the difference? If it doesn't then what difference do our feelings even make? What does it mean to like someone? I grow gradually discouraged!
Desperately Discouraged. Discouragement perpetuates desperation.

daydream

In one fleeting moment, I pictured myself as someone else.

There's this alluring sense of possibility along with the promise it brings.

What if I were wrong? What if I'm more than the sum of my idiosyncrasies?

What if the good can stay with the bad gone? It certainly can.


For now the only thing I can do is to keep working. Keep doing the things I have to, while I have the time to.
All these sitting around has dulled my mind. My vision is narrowing and my perception shallow.

Show us Your glory
Let it be shown
If we can't get our eyes to open the easy way
Then show it amidst the fire and snow

Let it be shown
That we may grasp Your majesty
And return to worship.

Just like that

I checked out of Angsana, received my results for paper 3. With that, I declare semester 1 over. 

It's been a semester of hit and misses... with many instances of "too late".

I shudder. 

Thank God for the comic relief this morning. It's the silly things in life that makes all the solemn stuff bearable. 

After hauling a huge box of stuff to the taxi and home, I thought I was done.

But I thought too soon. A call came in, and a familiar voice was on the other end. The guy at the counter during check out was on the line. Turns out I returned my tap key... and along with it, my matric card. 

2nd time I lost it. Once after philosophy paper, and now, again. 

I change into my running attire because I live so near angsana. I bring my ez-link card to be on the safe side... And it didn't take long for the run to convince me into taking a bus anyway.

Why? That crazy ING on saturday. Every single muscle on me is sore, even muscles I never knew existed are crying out in pain. I have been "helping" myself into chairs and I take care to not laugh or cough too much. So much, from a full day's of sports. 

Frisbee, floorball, captains ball and finally basketball. I played every single one of them, and played every single match, save for captains' ball. 

As I arrived in U-town round noon, it already feels different. The place is... unfamiliarly silent. It almost feels like the very same day I checked in mid-way through arts O week. Beyond that is this sense of absence. I felt a trace of this when she left on saturday, but I feel it more acutely now. 

"We lost the game" I typed. "Even so, I think I lost my temper more times than I lost games today."

She didn't stay for the conclusion of that intense face-off at floor ball finals. There's something she saw though, throughout the day. A side of me often tucked away. 

You see, hope is a very odd thing and bitterness can run so deep.

I've been bitter, bitter every following day since my exams ended. I was bitter because people were shitting all over the games, even after they signed up. I wonder and find myself amused at how some can sign up, when they are going to be overseas on the gameday. I'm also amused that some can claim they can't make it, only to have me catch them checking out when I was taking a break between games. 

I can't decipher the frivolity and lies these people give me. All day long through the week when I laboured to get their attendance. 

And so I was bitter. But that's not all.

The frisbee team. I hounded them from the day the list was finalized. Pleaded with them to go down for trainings but they wouldn't. For the few who did, they were so often over-zealous. Which was a dilemma really. Sometimes they'd try a big play or something fancy and improvised and their lack of skill prevents them from proper execution. 

I don't know what to make of it. I can see the effort and thought that goes into it because I used to be the same. I used to work my mind for creative plays which may give me an edge over the professionals. I know it's something thoughtful, but more often than not, it simply throws the game away. 

And so on friday I tried correcting these things, I criticized and chided them. I tried to point them towards a more "conscious" and responsible style of playing.. and they were lapping it up.

So why the opposite, on saturday? Why were they not man-marking no matter how many times I reminded them? Soon I began shouting. (but at least I did not become sarcastic, phew)

But I could have made through that day without shouting... so why did I do it?

I wanted to win. Yet, it was a new desire. I did not have victory on my mind the entire week. I knew what we were up against, I knew we stood little chance, I thought I resolved to just have fun...

But the first frisbee game reignited it in me. 

It was red house, the strongest house. They scored and we equalized. I thought I tasted a brief possibility... that if we were to stick to the principles, be orderly, disciplined and throw ourselves into the game... that we could win. 

and so the lack of discipline (though expected and understandable) really ticked me off. This, together with the latent bitterness saw me lose my temper many times in the morning. 

The problem was hope. The day was filled with instances where a flicker was teased before me and then put out. Repeatedly. 

All along, she was watching. They were all watching. I knew they were watching... but none of it did anything to slow me. 

Then the floorball games and my disputes with the referees (though I still think I'm right, look at the pictures, look at all those high sticks, please). 

To think of it, this isn't the first time. It isn't the first time I'm showing my true colours before the angsanians. 

The first formal dinner was another. Where I was almost drunk and was misbehaving that a Residential Fellow told me that I needed to "get the F**K out!"

Then this. 

I don't know what people think, neither do I know why they forgive me. Neither do I know if they do forgive me. Trying to put together the better side of myself in front of a girl is the small part- I'm sure everyone does it to a certain extent. I just wonder... at the conclusion of the first semester, if there is a deeper problem.

Or maybe I should've stuck to staying away from sports. 

"Aiya there's always next sem.. next sem more ready."

"next sem don't want alr. I was thinking that.. for me, I lost my temper more times than I lost games today."

"why not? Yeah, probably.. maybe too eager to win, ahh it happens lah, during competitions."

"woah, that's a very unexpected reply"

"what did you expect? hope it doesn't offend you"

You really thought so? I wish you are right in thinking so. 

That...

That my reactions were legitimate

that...

 I'll really be ready next semester