Welcome!: I Stole From The Less Fortunate...

Friday, 4 July 2008

I Stole From The Less Fortunate...

I feel like I'm back to stage 1. You know, the bumming days? Since the beginning of this year I've been actually making money, believe it or not. Or at least trying to, and I know, I know, if you refer back to my earlier entries, you would hear me complain every bloody day because of it. ("Why am I doing this to myself? Why?!") And now, here I am, exactly out of the so-called-misery that is working life, and what am I doing again? Complaining. Right. I should put that on my resume under 'hobbies and interests': complaining. Or maybe whining sounds better?

I'm officially pathetic. My class won't be 'til another two weeks, so now I'm pretty much...doing what? Well, let's see..Watching movies, having karaoke, eating out, notice a similarity there? Yep, those can be categorized into: spending money. I'm telling you, spending money feels good but it makes you feel guilty afterwards. Especially after you check your balance up in the ATM. I'm trying to minimize that, and you know usually when you withdraw money, the screen will show your balance whether you ask for it or not? Well, UOB doesn't do that, so I can avoid all the thrilling suspense. It's the way to go for cowards such as myself.

But okay, speaking of which, I just saw Hancock yesterday, and to me, it was...dissapointing. The beginning and near the end were fine, but the middle..just didn't make any sense. It did, but well, it just seemed a bit forced. "I can't believe I'm actually bored," I whispered to my friend beside me, and she just chuckled. Was that a 'yeah, me too' or a 'oh, shut up, you whiner', I don't know.

But perhaps today promised a better outcome from the look of it. I went out to get some food this afternoon and it should have cost me two dollars and eighty cents (yes, everyone! Come to Jurong, the food here is cheap! I'm a cheapo!), and I gave the seller a ten dollar note. She came back, handed me $12,80, and left to serve another customer.

Now bear in mind this happened in a matter of seconds and I still stood there, waiting for someone to yell 'cut!' or something, but noone with a big lighting bulb or a giant camera set showed up. But just in case, I stayed for another few seconds while the angel and devil kept whispering on both my ears, and then I left.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I left. I'm a shameless thief. Some two-dollars-thief, but thief nevertheless. That is even more pathetic! If I were to be a thief, I wanna steal something really big and expensive and impressive, and certainly not a 2-dollars-worth-of-chinese-food!

On second thought, no, today isn't any better! I'm still a bummer! A bummer who happened to be a thief, somemore!

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Quotes

There's a hundred million different ways of writing, and it takes you a long time to sort through that stuff. And I think it takes anyone a long time to find a voice.

You must learn to take the good with the bad, the happy with the sad, love what you’ve got and remember what you had. Learn to forgive, but never forget, learn from your mistakes but never regret. People change and things go wrong, but you just have to remember that life goes on.

The day before I’m supposed to be meeting Caroline for a drink, I develop all the textbook symptoms of a crush: nervous stomach, long periods spent daydreaming, an inability to remember what she looks like. I can bring back the dress and the boots, and I can see her bangs, but her face is a blank.

I don't know, I think that if I could just accept the fact that my life is supposed to be difficult. You know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'll just be glad when something nice happens.

I can see now I never really committed to Laura. I always had one foot out the door, and that prevented me from doing a lot of things, like thinking about my future and... I guess it made more sense to commit to nothing, keep my options open. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.

There's a big fucking world out there. It's messy, and it's chaotic, and it's never, never ever the thing you'd expect. It is ok to be scared, but you cannot allow your fears to turn you into an asshole, not when it comes to the people that love you, the people that need you.

Maybe what I'm saying is, is the world might be evolving the way a person evolves. Right? Like, I mean, me for example. Am I getting worse? Am I improving? I don't know. When I was younger, I was healthier, but I was, uh, whacked with insecurity, you know? Now I'm older and my problems are deeper, but I'm more equipped to handle them.

I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.

Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

A woman needs to be held, even, and science has shown this, if its with someone she doesn't care about. Protective hormones are released, and the amount of hormones released depends on the degree to which she is held. The first and best is the complete surround. He wraps you in both arms, whispers how beautiful you are. Second best is the 'arm around.' He is next to you but with one arm around you. Third is he's just next to you on his elbow, but he rests his hand on your stomach and looks at you. Fourth is you snuggling up to him with your head on his chest, while he looks away into space. But when the first best happens, you feel completely, wonderfully like a woman.

So, so what, so fuck off, go home, leave you alone? I'll tell you something Paul, there isn't anything that I've wanted for eighteen years, cause I was a kid eighteen years ago. And if I did still want the same things I'd think I'd gone wrong somewhere, because actually I don't want to marry David Cassidy, I don't want bigger tits, I don't want to do better on my marks. I've stopped worrying about that kind of thing and maybe you should try.

Well maybe there's a big bit of you that's gone missing somewhere, maybe everyone should want something they've always wanted.

Why is it that adults aren't supposed to go mad about anything? You gotta keep a lid on it. And if you don't then people are apparently entitled to say what they like. "You haven't grown up. You're a moron. Your conversation is trivial and boorish. You can't express your emotional needs. You can't relate to your children." And you die, lonely and miserable. But you know, what the hell, every cloud has a silver lining.

I just woke up one morning and didn't feel the same way. Where did it go? It was like there had been a lot of food on a plate in front of us, and we ate it all really quickly, and then there was nothing left. Maybe that's how couples stay together: they're not greedy. They know that what they have in front of them has to last a long time, so they kind of pick at it. I hope it's not like that, though. I hope that when people are happy together, it feels as though someone keeps piling seconds and thirds on their plates.

That is what I have learned: Sex is destructive. Love is nothing to be fooled with. I learned that I was dangerous, not to be trusted. I wondered if my parents were right, with all of their stiff lovelessness. Maybe they knew better. My parents don't dole out love for the deserving or the undeserving. I was learning that love could cost me.

You could say all you liked about reason and logic and common sense and imagination, but when the chips were down, the one skill you needed was the ability to think about absolutely nothing whatsoever.

There is a comfort in never making an effort, but it's a lonely comfort. What keeps you going is the knowledge that you're only playing with only four cards showing. But when you see other people succeeding with their mediocre hands, you have to make a decision. If you turn over that final card you're certain of victory, but it also means you have nothing in reserve.

I’d gone through life believing in the strength and competence of others; never in my own. Now, dazzled, I discovered that my capacities were real. It was like finding a fortune in the lining of an old coat.

Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as mere consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.