I would like to go on record saying that I hate Toyota. It's the most overrated car, ever. EVERYONE in Singapore drives a freaking Toyota...okay, that's grossly exaggerated, but I think 8 out of 10 Singaporeans or thereabout drive a freaking Toyota. Oh my god, I can't believe we're just one of the freaking masses. Seriously, this is a major disgrace to my valiant attempts at anti-establishment...ness. I don't know. Initially I tried to tell my parents that driving a Toyota will make your self-esteem plummet two-fold but they refused to listen to me and they told me that I was crazy and then that stupid-ass Subaru salesperson was stupid enough to piss my mom off, so actually it's all that salesperson's fault. She was this close to getting another Subaru until that salesperson rescinded on the trade-in (or whatever; I almost said 'buy-back'. Shit. I hate Company Law) price of the old Subaru - THREE TIMES. At first he (I think) was all, Oh you can get $900 off for the car, then it became, Oh I'm sorry it's $200, and somehow my mom found out it's $400 and the really intelligent salesperson who really knows how to seal a deal conveniently forgot to tell her. What the hell, what a total tool. So all thanks to his incompetence we're getting a freaking Toyota.
A TOYOTA. Please kill me now before the sight of the run-of-the-mill, ordinary, unremarkable car does.
Of course, I exaggerate. Kinda.
Anyway, my new-found conscientiousness in Company lecture was short-lived. I listened for three minutes today and subsequently switched off completely. I was more interested in surfing this site because poetry is sustenance for the soul and matters more to me than capital maintenance rules.
I have to stop dreaming. It's dragging on for way too long, but I'm comfortable floating about in my half-comatosed state of mind, not wanting to come down to earth, ever. Sometimes I'm tired of trying to do the right thing, because I'm convinced that the only right thing you can do for yourself is to be true to yourself.
But other times, I tell myself to shut up and just do what I gotta do, no matter how irritated I am by it.
Because I sat in Coffee Bean for two hours today reading the chapter on caveats and I understood nothing. People who cannot write should be banned from publishing textbooks. Why do you insist on defying simple, logical sentence construction and pull some weird stunt by putting the effect before the cause and hence distracting and then confusing me? It's wholly irritating and I don't understand why you can't write properly when other authors write their books in a much more comprehensible fashion, while maintaining the academic tone. Textbook writers should undergo some compulsory grammar classes or something.
And of course, being me, instead of finishing up on the chapter so that I can prepare for tomorrow's tutorial, I come here and bitch about how I don't understand anything instead. It doesn't help that I read a grand total of two pages on the chapter last night, partly because my handphone distracted me, and partly because I was reading poems on the site to which I linked a few paragraphs ago. Naturally, reading awesome poems (well, not all were good, but there were some great ones) made me want to write, and so I obsessed over that for a while, couldn't think of what to write, went to take a shower, finally wrote something, and decided it sucked.
It still sucks. I wrote another one at 6.30 p.m. and it's even worse. I can't write, period. My words don't mean anything. Analysing my "poem" would be a complete waste of time and an elaborate exercise in the Follies of Literary Analysis, because literary analysis proceeds on the assumption that all poetry have a deeper meaning, which is a dangerous assumption to make because it's simply not true. Everything I learnt in Prac Crit about subtext, about picking words carefully to convey effectively what you want to convey, about showing and not telling - none of them appear anywhere in the shit I wrote. My god, I have no words to describe how disgustingly untalented I am, how I can't write anything decent to save my sanity. And this is a million times worse than getting out of law school with a second-lower, failing Company Law, whatever.
The only thing I can do well is to point out why a poem sucks. As if I have any right to comment; I can't write a good one myself, so what kind of retarded locus standi do I even have to say that this person can't write for shit or that person is a pretentious moron? Because I can't write poetry for shit and I am a pretentious moron. Plain and simple.
I'm not even belittling myself right now. I'm sure my previous entry is proof enough that I'd give myself credit where it's due, so trust me when I say that I can't write. At all. The things I write don't measure up to my expectations, they're juvenile and meaningless, they're empty and shallow.
Argh just kill me. I want to achieve this so much more than I want to do well in law school. In fact, I can die happy if I bloody get a third class if I could just write one good poem that measures up to my expectations. Why is this so hard? Because it's not easy. Well, how intelligent was that, right?
I feel like being someone else. Like Khai. I don't know. Go to a pub and drink without puking my guts out, get massively slammed and thrown around, wake up missing my underwear. The only time when you're justified in bitching and moaning all the time is when something really horrible happens to you, and maybe then you can finally write something halfway worthwhile.
I'm so irritated at myself and my disgusting incompetence and complete absence of that highly elusive shit we call 'talent'. Why do you torture me so? I'd die happy at your hands if you'd just entertain me for two seconds.
Don't mind me, I'm just PMSing.
Anyway. In other news, I went jogging and I ran for a grand total of four minutes, then spent twenty minutes walking home. I'm brilliant, aren't I? I'm sticking to swimming.
Lastly, a survey I stole from Khai, because I don't feel like writing anymore.
1) How old do you wish you were?
Eighteen. The perfect age.
2) Where were you when 9/11 happened?
At home studying for some Physics test.
3) What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
4) Do you count yourself kind?
Depends on who I'm supposed to be kind to.
5) If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
Why would I ever have to get a tattoo? I'd never get a tattoo.
6) If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
french, fuckkk.<--Ditto that.
7) Do you know your neighbors?
I say hi to them when I see them. I've only properly talked to one person though, this guy who lives on the 9th floor.
8) What do you consider a vacation?
Whenever I'm doing something grossly indulgent and time-wasting.
9) Do you follow your horoscope?
10) Would you move for the person you loved?
Currently, and for a very long time now, I don't believe in love.
11) Are you touchy feely?
I have intimacy issues.
12) Do you believe that opposites attract?
Sometimes, I'm inclined to believe so, because boy, that would explain a freaking lot.
13) Dream job?
I think everyone knows this by now. (Clue: Not A Lawyer.)
14) Favorite channel(s)?
I don't watch TV anymore. Why plan your life around TV scheduling when there's this amazing thing called BitTorrent?
15) Favorite place to go on weekends?
I don't go out on the weekends anymore. They're wasted on trying to understand the amazing senselessness that's Company Law.
16) Showers or baths?
17) Do you paint your nails?
18) Do you trust people easily?
I wouldn't say so, no.
19) What are your phobias?
Mediocrity, insects, snakes, reptiles, dirty toilets, dating a smoker.
20) Do you want kids?
21) Do you keep a handwritten journal?
Yep. It's filled with meaningless entries about random guys. Sad, but true.
22) Where would you rather be right now?
Warwick. Or Cambridge. Or even King's.
23) Who makes you feel warm and fuzzy?
Used to be Logan Echolls but not so much anymore.
24) Heavy or light sleeper?
25) Are you paranoid?
26) Are you impatient?
27) Who can you relate to?
Khai and Ruishan.
28) How do you feel about interracial couples?
29) Have you been burned by love?
HAHAHA. I laugh in the face of your self-importance.
30) What's your favorite pick-up line?
KW's. It's so wrong, it's right.
31) What's your main ring tone on your mobile?
The standard issue...ring. Like, literally 'ring'.
32) What were you doing at midnight last night?
Probably washing my hair.
33) What did the last text on your cellphone say?
It was from Mag, telling me that her business in town went fine. Yay!
34) Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
Um. Mine. I wish I had a more sordid answer, but unfortunately, my life is boring.
35) What color shirt are you wearing?
Yellow. It's the Jurong OGL (orientation group leader) shirt. I can't believe I did the OGL thing. I must've lost my mind.
36) Most recent movie you watched?
The Pretige. I preferred The Departed, but that's not the point.
37) Name three things you have on you at all times?
Actually, nothing. 'At all times' is a bit hard, unless you count things like underwear and whatever else. Most of the time? Watch, contacts, and...I don't know. Not even my handphone 'cause I forget it sometimes. Not even my wallet, for the same reason. But my watch? I nearly always remember it.
38) What color are your bed sheets?
39) How much cash do you have on you right now?
Fifty, at least.
40) What is your favorite part of the chicken?
I don't eat chicken.
41) What's your favorite town/city?
Taipei, without a doubt.
42) I can't wait till
the Company Law exam is over/I get out of law school.
43) What did you have for dinner last night?
Well. I don't remember.
44) How tall are you barefoot?
45) Do you own a gun?
I live in Singapore. And even if I didn't, I hate guns.
46) What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
47) Where do you think you'll be in 10 yrs?
New York or Taipei. Anywhere but Singapore.
48) Last thing you ate?
Pears. I hate pears.
49) What songs do you sing in the shower?
i don't sing in the shower.<--Me too.
50) Last thing that made you laugh?
My mom getting the notes wrong on a Chopin piece. Haha.
51) Worst injury you've ever had?
Eh. I don't know. Does asthma count?
52) Does someone have a crush on you?
That's a stupid question. How the hell would I know?
53) What's your favorite candy?
Fisherman's Friend apple and cinnammon. I can't spell cinnammon.
54) What song do you want played at your funeral?
I'm going with my favourite song at the moment, which is Dakota by Stereophonics.
55) Five random people to do this. And why.
Whoever, because it's about free will.