I had two cups of coffee after 12 midnight. Here's the break down of the effects of the coffee:
Good news - I have finished reading the assigned materials for the topic on judicial review in Singapore and UK on which I'm doing my short essay for Emergencies, AND I've finally formulated a thesis and come up with a structure for the insanely short 1250-word essay.
Bad news - I have not written a single word. And it's an insanely short 1250-word essay.
Regarding the point I have not written a single word: This is because I can't think of a good opening sentence. As long as I don't have that killer opening sentence, I don't have a freaking essay. Shit.
Regarding the point And it's an insanely short 1250-word essay: I was detailing my essay outline to Kenneth on MSN just now and he said, "That sounds like you have enough to reach 3000 words."
He hit the nail right on the head. I am too verbose for my own good and the problem with a short essay is that it requires me to be concise, and I am NOT a concise writer (or person) - at all. 1250 words is five pages on MS Word, 1.5-spaced, and it's ridiculously short. I have a lot to say. This is going to be freaking painful.
So all I need now is that killer opening sentence for me to get the show on the road and write an essay that's deserving of my matriculation number (I'm assuming we're not supposed to write our names. But we submit the essays before the class for that particular topic and I'm sure he'd remember who submitted what. But whatever).
Additionally, I am quite excited about my Rational Choice paper in the sense that I'm choosing to apply it to a legal problem that I care very much about and feel very strongly for. The problem? There's always a problem. Seriously. The problem is, I have not finished reading my notes. I've only read half of the materials in the bundle. And the Indian Masters student talked to me about his paper and it sounds completely ingenious and brilliant and I'm afraid that I pale terribly in comparison.
Nevermind. Doesn't matter. Will not be daunted.
So sleepy. I can't believe I'm still awake...then again, the more succinct statement is, I can't believe caffeine still works on me. I bet it's eating away at my stomach linings right now. I was in school on Friday from 9 AM (Evidence lecture) to 10.30 PM (Law IV musical). That is insane. I wasn't even in school for that long when my intensive was on. I spent my entire afternoon reading Liversidge v. Anderson for my Emergencies essay and I swear - I read EVERY. SINGLE. JUDGMENT. The Law Lords - all five of them - wrote a judgment each and it was a 4-1 majority so everyone except Lord Atkin who dissented said the same thing and I read the same thing four times. Fuck. And it was the first time in my LIFE that I read a case in its entirety. I didn't read the headnotes 'cause I don't understand UK headnotes; they're structured very differently from Singapore ones. And yeah, I read the entire case, apparently we did it for Public Law but I have absolutely no recollection whatsoever, and it was my first time reading a case in its entirety and it wasn't even for a substantive law module.
I need to kill myself, or less painfully and drastically, do something about my weird studying habits.
In other news:
I am really, really tired. And the caffeine really IS eating away at my stomach linings; I can feel it. The gastric pangs have gone up dramatically over the past few weeks and I don't know why.
Mag was right: Parts of Law IV made me wistful. In fact, on a couple of occasions I swear I could've cried. I am really, really tired. What happened to be my healing process? It appears to have completely derailed, retarded, come to standstill. Why? I don't know either. The PMS has passed so I can't blame it on that, and so I don't know what it is anymore.
I am so cynical lately that it seems nearly permanent. And it's a brand of vitriolic, spiteful cynicism that I've honestly never known before, so I don't believe it when they say that love is supposed to change you for the better. I still think it's all a crock of shit. I think it's all a crock of shit. I can't relate to people's relationship woes, I can't comprehend on the most basic level what they're worried about when they meet with problems, I can't even grasp the basic concept underlying their desire to do things for their boyfriends/girlfriends. I don't get it - at all. Because the way I see it, why the fuck should I even care? Everything comes to an end. All relationships end - it's only a matter of whether you're alive at the end of it.
Those words aren't mine and I didn't agree at one point in time but it's so clear to me now, the truth in that assertion. Everything's been proven right: the cynicism of the modern world as can be seen from the proliferation of people sleeping around and pre-marital sex, the cynicism of the girl I was after I broke up with my first boyfriend that fiercely did not believe in love, the cynicism of my mother who thinks that I should look for a guy who loves me more than I love him (assuming I'm capable of loving, which is quite a dangerous assumption to make), the cynicism of Veronica Mars who said, "Love is an investment. Information is insurance." More tellingly: "I'm never getting married. You want an absolute, well there it is. Veronica Mars, Spinster. I mean, what's the point. Sure there's the initial primal drive; ride it out. Or better yet, ignore it. Sooner or later, the people you love let you down. And here's where it ends up: sleazy men, cocktail waitresses, cheap motels on the wrong side of town. And a soon to be ex-spouse wanting a bigger piece of the settlement pie."
Marriage doesn't lead to forever; it is not the be all and end all. It is merely a gamble - nothing more, nothing less. And not all of us end up winning.
So what is the point? The price of losing exponentially outweighs the gains in winning. I haven't always been risk-adverse; in fact, I was a staunch proponent of the Shop Around school of thought with regard to dating, relationships, and sex.
But now? Not so much. Not at all. Unless I am absolutely sure, all bets are off. And since there's no way for anyone to be absolutely sure, all bets are off, period. Not even if it feels good in the moment. Especially not if it feels good in the moment. There's too much at stake, and it's never, ever worth it.
Lately the shit is piling up and I don't know why and I wish it'd all just go the fuck away. I'm so irritated sometimes, being in school, and sometimes I wish I would graduate this year and not have to suffer through year 4.
This shouldn't be the case, but at times like these, I am especially thankful for my beloved friends, without whom I wouldn't be able to get through a day in school in one piece. At all.
My emotional neediness scares the shit out of me. It really does. It's bad. Everything is bad.
I need to write that essay but I'm so tired, it's 4.03 a.m., I can't think. No killer opening sentence. Waking up at 10 to go swimming because I am fat, or rather, I am putting on weight and it's grossing me out.
I think I am quite stressed out from all these papers due and whatever else, from how definitive I've set out this semester to be, even if no one else gives a shit about what I want it matters to me the way the world matters to us. It's never been about other people's expectations; it's always been about my own. I don't care if everyone thinks I'm this or that, because the only opinion that I validate myself by is my own. Period.
And therefore it strikes me funny the way I felt so lousy about myself for such a long period of time.
Sometimes, the choices we make can be so fucking devastating. But then, volenti non fit injuria. Because at the end of everything, you do assume the risk voluntarily. No one pointed a gun to your head and forced you to, for example, enter law school. It's your choice, your decision, your mistake. The responsibility is all yours. And there's no one to blame but yourself, no one to cry to but yourself, no one to direct your anger at but yourself. It is, truly, what it is: it's prima facie and nothing more.
I want to stop hurting. But I honestly believe that it's never going to go away.
So I suppose the logical thing to do is to find some way to live with it.
Until I've done that though, and I don't expect that to happen anytime soon, don't be surprised if I write more angsty entries along the spirit of this one.
I never thought it could ever get this bad. Coldplay: Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it could be so hard.
Take me back to the start.
Well, time to surround myself with people that make me happy. Far and few between, but at least they exist.
Too fucking sleepy, probably delirious.
House arrest starts properly after Sunday night. What mid-sem break? Give me a break.