I somehow dreamt that I was attending a BT set last night. Paris played, and it felt like the world ruptured.
And so 6 shots down, one hour lost, and I’ve gotten nowhere.
I realise that by leaving you sitting in the kitchen all the way back at 22/107 Grote St, I have made the gravest mistake ever in my life. Gone are the mornings that I look forward to so much, with that lovely black liquid that you spit out into my mug. Just me and that putrid thing of an offspring of yours, hand in hand, clicking our way through the daily news.
Dear French press,
I realise that the little espresso maker that I bought on my way home just doesn’t cut it. In your absence, I have been relegated to making four shots to satisfy my morning cravings.
The patheticness that is what we call broadband in Malaysia kinda offsets how much I miss you.
Dear French press,
I hope that by the time I get back, you will forgive the sins that I have made, and readily allow me to drink from your fountain of gold.
We shall soon be reunited dear friend, and when we do, teary eyed and all, I will never want to part with you ever again.
I don’t get how it could have rained for the whole damned day. Can the weather get any more depressing?
My bags are packed. I made it a point to head to the local bottle shop last night to pick some some Pale Ale that I know I’ll miss dearly whilst back in Malaysia. Dunno how I’ll be lugging 4L of beer up in my luggage and whether it’ll turn out okay but heck, it’s worth a try. I very nearly forgot to pack my lab coat & placement workbook last night. The saving grace: when my pile of lecture notes came crashing down, and with it the damned book.
So in about 12h time I’ll be in Singapore, meeting up with some friends for a bit, before hopping on an MH flight back to KL an hour later.
The only things left for me to chuck into my messenger bag are my laptop and my precious external hard disk filled with movies galore. Reckon I’ll get them done with so I can survey what’s what and determine if I missed anything out.
To the people still here, it’s been a damned good year. I’ve enjoyed every single bit of it. My maxis number still exists so I’ll be reachable @ 017-6565067. Til then, bai!
And with our pens set down (for what we hope is for the last time this year), we marked the end of the academic year. This semester has most definitely played out at a frenetic pace. The memory of me touching down on the 4th of August, teary eyed from a bloody long layover at Sydney, and heading out for AB up north for dinner right after, still seems like it was last week.
Perhaps it’s because I came back with a different perspective. Maybe because I was prepared to give this whole thing another try. Most importantly, I had my head on my shoulders.
Throughout the past 4 months, I paid no attention to things that might have been, nor to things that could have been. I was too occupied with living in the present, because I’ve finally learned to not jump ahead of myself.
The only downside to all this was not having enough time to myself. I’ve been so used to being idle, and travelling along the paths that my at-times daft imagination was prepared to chuck at me.
I honestly do feel like I’ve grown tremendously, spiritually speaking. The demons that tormented me aren’t entirely banished, but at the very least they’re kept in check & don’t haunt me as often as they used to.
This post has been a long time coming, I just couldn’t find the right amount of time to sit down and express it in the right words that I envisioned. There wasn’t any point in churning out generic sounding paragraphs. Your local ojien could do that just as well.
In a way, this page has slowly ceased to being all about everything, and more about my downs and reflections. I’m not entirely sure I like the direction in which it’s going, because it was never my intention to trudge down this road. Having such deep thoughts of mine lying out here for everyone to see, it scares the living shit out of me. It’s like walking down Hindley Street in your birthday suit during winter.
I find it a little amusing that with every year I age, the more jaded I become. Outwardly appearances no long possess that golden sheen. Maybe I’m a little tired of the plasticity and glossiness that everyday life has to offer. The urge to write about the ups, and great things that happen… it just doesn’t mean jack anymore. I reckon the only reason I still write is because it keeps me sane and ensures that my english doesn’t deteriorate like a fuckin’ bogan saying fill-LET.
Blogging is such a cliche right now that, it isn’t like how it used to be anymore. What uberfusion used to be, a medium for me to selectively share parts of my life with not only friends and family but also strangers, can no longer work because the security blanket is gone. I could always hide behind this facade to strangers, yet at the same time appear as I am to people who are acquainted to me.
Regardless, most of my future posts will be password protected. I am not an attention whore. There is a vast amount of people out there who are. I’m not one of them. I write for my satisfaction, not others. And neither am I bothered by my stats. Private thoughts should be just that, private.