You are currently browsing the monthly archive for September, 2006.
applications are open now. arrrrrgh. form-filling galore. sigh. which prefecture should i apply for? and if i am short-listed, i’ll have to fly back to singapore in february, which is term-time, for an interview for a job i might not get. which means $$ wasted.
sigh.
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on a brighter note, i have 1007 words of my essay done, hope fully by the time today ends, i’ll have 1500 words. slowly, steadily does it. (:
it’s really answered prayer, though. suddenly dh is becoming interesting, and my essay is somehow working out better than it did before.
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ETA: finished 1597 words last night! w00t! aiming to reach 2000 by the time today ends. off to mug in nus!
and sharon and mer! when are you free to meet?
charmaine too– when are you free to meet?
“Please note that the Politics of Development marks are still being finalised and they will be published below as soon as they are available.”
-stomach does a nasty lurch-
bugger.
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on the other end of the spectrum, i watched akeelah and the bee on the plane, and my gosh! what a movie. ignoring the fact it was produced by starbucks entertainment (i like coffee, but my coffee has no business doing movies), it was one of the most fantabulous movies i’ve ever watched. it was engaging from the get-go and keke palmer is such a natural.
the movie also has one of my favouritest quotes ever:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?”
– Marianne Williamson
indeed. but no matter how much i felt like i could’ve been fabulous, the release of results shall only confirm that, no, no. i am inadequate after all.
“Yes, one does want that. But it must happen. You can’t do anything for it with your will. You always seem to think you can force the flowers to come out. People must love us because they love us — you can’t make them.”
“I know, “he said. “But must one take no steps at all? Must one just go as if one were alone in the world — the only creature in the world?”
“You’ve got me,” she said. “Why should you need others? Why must you force people to agree with you? Why can’t you be single by yourself, as you are always saying? You try to bully Gerald — as you tried to bully Hermione. You must learn to be alone. And it’s so horrid of you. You’ve got me. And yet you want to force other people to love you as well. You do try to bully them to love you. And even then, you don’t want their love.”
Women in Love, D.H. Lawrence
it feels very much nowadays that i’m unravelling very, very slowly. it’s not even a big obvious process with neon-lit signs. it’s slow, insidiously slow, and it starts now and then with an odd thought, which feels too real. and suddenly you wonder why you won’t carry through with the thought, and then it occurs to you a mite bit too late (what would have been a split second realisation previously) that it isn’t very nice. slowly, slowly the part of you that you’ve spent a while building up and binding together is unravelling, and inside the centre is a soft, gooey, malicious mess that is aching to come back out.
bullying, bullying– that’s all it is, sometimes. what is scary is that sometimes you don’t know which bullying stems from true, heartfelt emotion, and which is the soft gooey pulp within trying to ooze it’s way out.
oy vey. this novel is getting to me.
i am not rupert birkin, constantly giving myself away. no, no. vanity is all.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
– Pink Floyd
