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Thursday, July 19, 2012

Try not to fall.

It was a gloomy and windy afternoon. Large grey clouds jostled for position to block out every ray of sunlight as far as the eye could see. Every now and then, ominous thunder would break out, signalling that a thunderstorm would be approaching very soon.

Rhiannon was perched on the very edge of the tower, her hair wildly whipped by the storm winds peppered with drizzle. Pensively, she gazed down at the city 700 feet below her dangling legs.

She thought about how she got up here. Doubtlessly, it was in pursuit of fun and excitement that caused her to depart from her usual reasonable self to ascend the concrete roof of the high-rise building. And now that the power had gone out, and would unlikely return until the storm had passed, she would have to climb down an infinite number of flights of stairs down the outdoor fire escape to reach safety.

She turned back to glance at the electrically-locked door that now barred her passage to a motionless elevator. Noone knew she was up here, and they wouldn't be able to help her anyway.

There were only two ways she could escape the ensuing storm: face a potentially crippling stairway marathon, or jump to imminent death. Staying put might not result in her death, but it put her in such a perilous situation it made every inch of her tremble. It made her head pound, her heart stop, and her entire self turn into a breathless, wide-eyed maniac.


Rhiannon lambasted her stupidity and short-sightedness. If only she had had the foresight to halt her frivolous endeavour sooner; she'd already known a storm was approaching, she just did not want to let it impede all the fun she was having.

Resigning herself to her fate, she carefully got to her feet, mentally preparing for her thighs to be sore for weeks to come. "No point wasting my time here on this ledge anyway," she thought, "better late than never."


_

This is what I get for putting off studying until the last minute. Never once have I been in the scary position of actually possibly failing my exams. Pure panic mode: ON.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Why I write.

A few days back, I had a little chat with a friend. He told me that once he finished his current degree, he was going to leave it all to pursue his interest in film-making. I haven't seen any of his work so I can't judge its quality, but it was just the way he said it: underneath his calm tone laid a strong undercurrent of pride and passion.

I was insanely jealous at first, but then it occurred to me that I have a passion of my own too. I love to write. Sometimes it makes no sense and merely forms a random jumble of thoughts with no clear head or tail (actually most of the time), sometimes its a fictional story with imaginary characters, and sometimes its strong emotional feelings on a particular issue.

I have no favourite content when it comes to writing, because every piece I type details exactly how I was inspired at the time, and thus every piece is an outward expression of myself. I don't boast excellent grammar or vocabulary, nor do I claim to be highly original or entertaining.

Because when I write, its an irresistible compulsion. Its like needing to use the washroom, you get the urge and you just can't relax and focus on anything else until you get it out of your system. At that moment, it just seems like your highest priority.


I'm a reserved person. I like to think I exude quiet confidence, but I'm sure its mostly construed as arrogance by others. I rarely speak my mind on anything in person, especially if I'm feeling emotional.

No, I keep everything tampered down outwards, even though endless thoughts and sentences are zooming around at full speed in my brain at the time. These things have a need to be said, but I'm just too uncomfortable to express them verbally. I usually end up stuttering due to the focused attention, and then end up dissatisfied afterwards for a lousy delivery.

But when I write, somehow everything just falls into place. You can edit your writing, but you cannot edit uttered words. I spend most of my time searching for the exact words that convey my feelings best, to ensure I feel satisfied that I've expressed exactly what I wanted to.

There's nothing I love more than transferring my thoughts onto paper/a screen; watching mere emotions take the form of words, seeing a messy jumble of thoughts become comprehensive paragraphs, and getting fresh inspiration even while I am writing under the compulsion of another inspiration.


This is definitely arrogant: I feel like what I think and feel is too important to go undocumented. No matter if noone likes it or noone even bothers to read it; it only matters that it is written and out there, that little piece of myself that would have eventually extinguished itself if left unsaid. I don't write for anything else, but for the sake of writing.

It's a blessing that I have found my talent in writing, because perhaps I wouldn't feel this way if my writing was lousy and didn't allow me to express what I intended. So thank God for adding an extra pinch of literature powder when making me!

Everyone has an outlet of expression. My main one happens to be writing. My blog is called "exposing my heart", because I'm choosing to expose everything I express from my core.

And even when I'm old and withered, I will still write, because I might as well crippled or dead if writing was denied to me.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

What goes up, must come down crashing.

My week has been a complete roller coaster. I've got good news and bad news.

The good news is, as some might know, my little tongue-in-cheek post on Sun Ho received its 15 minutes of fame when it was somehow spotted and linked up on singaporedaily.net on Tuesday! Blog hits had been climbing since I published that piece, and it hit its peak on that day! I have had little over 1000 unique visitors (according to nuffnang) within the week it was published, and I am thankful beyond words.

Previously, my obscure blog hovered around a steady 20-odd unique visitors per week. The small number didn't matter to me, because I was writing purely for the sake of writing, whenever the inspiration hit. Honestly, I would have been contented with 1 view per week, because it just mattered that little to me.

I have no idea how so many stumbled across my blog, and why apparently it was deemed newsworthy enough to have been mentioned on a foreign news website. I am very much aware that this wave of interest will very soon pass and I will be back to obscurity with my nonsense ramblings, but still, it has thus far been the highest point for my little blog, and I am a proud mama.

So again, thank you God, thank you singaporedaily, thank you Weijian, and thank you anyone that has stumbled across that piece and recommended it for someone else to read! Like seriously, I now know how it feels like to be completely light-headed and on cloud 9!


But every silver cloud has a dark lining. (Its an inaccurate description; "life is full of ups and downs" would have been more appropriate, but this just sounded nicer.)

Today, the tingly happy buzz I've been living in since Tuesday completely dissipated: My car was stolen. Its a black Wira in Subang Jaya, with the number plate WNH 1834.

I didn't believe it at first. I did the "missing car dance"; walking towards my parking spot, stopping abruptly upon realising my car's absence, walking around checking nearby areas while slack-jawed in disbelief, pacing and circling my parking spot in shock, then finally making calls to report my loss (to mommy, not the police) and to make alternative transport arrangements.

Since my mom saw it when she left for work at 7, it must have been stolen soon after, because I came out of the house at 8. My car was parked right in front on my house, and I'm pretty darn sure it was locked.

My emotion train flitted from disbelief to rage to sadness, then quickly back to rage. Its currently flip-flopping between maligned-fueled anger and self-pity. My mood is so unstable right now, I doubt I'm making any sense here.


I suppose it could be worse. I could have been forcefully robbed and noone came to my aid, there could have been valuables in the car (there was an umbrella and at most 5 bucks of change), I'm completely unhurt, and I'm fortunate enough to have easily made alternative transport arrangements for the near future.

A police report has been made, but I have zero faith in the law enforcement system to bring my baby back safely. Or even to bother with an investigation, given that the car is common and practically worthless, and the level of efficiency of car-thieves nowadays.

Perhaps I had accumulated too much happiness over the past 2 days that something bad just had to happen to balance everything out. Never once have I truly thought of myself as a "victim" until today. I just want to crawl into my corner and wait for my chariot to magically appear in its usual spot tomorrow.

Because my main concern now is how to get to my mani pedi appointment tomorrow.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Sloth.

30 days to go. Finals are so close I can taste it.

I am still so far away from being prepared! I still struggle with basic answering concepts and am still unable to memorise everything I need to. The bitter bile of fear lingers at the back of my tongue every waking moment.

Problem is that the subject matter is extremely brain-heavy. Coupled with stress, it packs quite a potent lethargic punch.

So what do I do? I take breaks in between studying. Of course, taking those breaks only work if you have the discipline to go back to studying. With me, it rarely occurs until hours later.

Doesn't help that I'm still hooked into that stupid adorable online game either. Suffering from withdrawal symptoms as I type this.


So what's my point here?

Well, there is none. I just wanted to complain about how useless and uneducated I feel right now. And I can't even blame it on pms because my period's not due.

Gaaaaaah be gone you clamouring laziness! I need to studyyyyy. 8 more chapters of criminal and public law! Get up and move towards the study table, Jules!

...Or you know, after logging onto my game for a few minutes. Heh, I'm weak.

I'm sorry. To make up for wasting 2 minutes of your time reading this disjointed gibberish, have a gander at this pretty picture I took of myself by chance. Take heed that I look nowhere near this good in public.

Nah:


p/s: look at my pretty hair pre-weedwackered! :'(
 

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