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Tuesday, April 12, 2011
After getting to cool down and think things over, I declined the request to present a speech at Nan Hua Primary this Saturday.
It happened yesterday when a teacher found G. and I in class and asked if I could make a speech at Nan Hua Primary as the Sec 4 Ex-Student from RGS - and I had been quite inclined towards that prospect, until she told me that they found me because G. was unable to make it for sat. They wanted G. at first. They wanted G. Period.She couldn't make it, so now I'm supposed to fill in.
I don't mean to be petty. I don't think highly of myself either, and for a point of time I was even thankful to them for remembering me. But was I really that desperate? Was I really that ready to throw away my dignity and self-esteem, simply because I was given a chance to replace someone who was worth a lot more?
I hate being treated like replacement, like I'm second-choice, the back-up, the reserve, the not-so-good, just there to make the organisers feel better because they have managed to drag a bucket of water to quench the fire. There is this hollow feeling that I am unable to get rid of. It hinders me from finding the zest and genuine commitment to the task that this would require of me, and which I cannot give.
I cannot give a speech of whose content does not come from my heart. I cannot give a speech with no feelings.
I cannot give a speech as a voice for another person.
I guess I'm just not good enough. Since when was I ever good enough? And if I'm not good enough, could you at least not rub it in my face? I'm sick of it. Sick of trying to be good for others, sick of trying to live for others, sick of trying to be who I'm not just so I can fit into society.
I wish someday i could stand at one spot without having to wonder if it's meant for someone else. I wish I could accept commissions with no doubts that there is a mistake of sorts, that perhaps the job was meant for someone else. I wish I could be myself, and love life like that.
To be very honest I have many things I would wish to say to Nan Hua. I'd love to inspire, bring some form of encouragement to my juniors. But I'm sorry, if I'm not the one originally intended to do it, I will keep everything to myself until the day when I deserve full entitlement to the obligation.
Which may be never. I have no idea.
***~~~*Played with the Winds at 10.10pm*~~~
Saturday, April 9, 2011
I am very serious, very seriously uncertain about why I'm here.
I think reading Tessa's blog just, you know, gets me into the blogging mood. Maybe emoness is infectious. Or maybe it's just me. At any rate I'm just not feeling so upbeat right now...this might take awhile.
Nothing much to update for today. Well except for the fact that I got stuck at the tuition centre for 1h while waiting for the rain to die down, heavy rain it was too. Lots of thunder plus lightning - kids cried, adults smoked, and I ended up reading 1h of BBC Knowledge Magazine which was pretty enjoyable except for the fact that people keep smoking around me.
Hmm anyway since I have nothing to write about I'll post art, uh, unfinished art to be exact. A Port City WIP that may or may not be finished, depends on whether I get the time.
The Long Way Home - WIP
Comments: Seiran carrying Mago home after a long day outside. Mago sleeps on Seiran's shoulders. And yes, that's food in Seiran's hands, Mago had been chewing on the egg (yellow part) before he fell asleep. Played around with colours in Photoshop this time round...have yet to blend everything out, but these will be the main tones. I'm working towards Nuriko-kun's colouring style, and maybe also Yuumei...oh and good old 10rankai! Man I still love her art so much.
Port City art haha. PCA. Wowee.
***~~~*Played with the winds at 11.34pm*~~~
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
In school right now, some kind of free block this is. I was supposed to act mugger for once and do some of the long overdue Chinese homework - and hey look, it's with me right now, just underneath my pencilcase beside the keyboard. But well, untouched.
Maybe later. Maybe never. *shrugs* It's always down to this question isn't it?
You see, I'm sandwiched between 2 girls who are chionging their Math PT reports right now. And I'm sure there're loads of other girls in this com room chionging other things. It's just...kinda funny you know? A morbid sort of funny, not that people can actually laugh at it.
I got scolded by the Math PT group leader yesterday. I think I pretty much deserved it, but considering I'm absolutely clueless about the Math PT Group Task, I wasn't able to help out much anyway. I ended up doing the glorious job of the humanities student - clearing up grammar errors, correcting typos, basically useless stuff that will be swept away with the words "such little contribution". I'm not saying otherwise, but it's all I could do. Sorry man, but math and I don't go together, and people must learn soon that anything that's got to do with me in Math is pretty much unreliable.
Somehow there's this small voice that constantly reminds me to look on the bright side and forget about complaining. Complaining can't get you anywhere, can't do anything. But if not complaining means living in a void everyday, going the same way from home and back, doing the same things, feeling the same grand nothing, then I think we might as well complain a little. Let off some steam.
Carlin: "Let's see a little smoke..."
Ah yes, you'd be surprised. You might be seeing a little more than smoke after all.
***~~~*Played with the winds at 9.26am*~~~
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I just found a friend's blog yesterday and read most of her posts, and they set me thinking so much, so much that I'm no longer sure if I know where to go anymore.
It seems that the world is no longer as composed as I used to think; like a fog clearing, dispersing the beautifully vague silhouettes that hide the ghastly truth underneath a blanket of mythical beauty. What is left underneath is a gigantic system of rusting cogs and creaking hinges. The mechanism of society is deteriorating. The world is about to fall apart. Or maybe it has already fallen apart, and we are just living in a reality composed of our own delusions - our delusion that we are alive, that we are living in a solid reality, that there is meaning to what we see through our blindfolds.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Just like my friend, I have been frequently pondering about who I used to be as a child. She is right about childhood being the most tragic and precious thing. Childhood is the nursery of life, the only few years we can truly see the world through our wide, innocent eyes, untainted by sin and the guilt of knowing. In this context knowledge is guilty. It really is, because while teaching us things that should bring civilization to a higher level, it is also tearing civilization down, day by day, hour by hour, second by second.
From Knowledge was born Lies. From Knowledge was born Ignorance. From Knowledge was born Greed, because we are all suddenly aware of what each of us wants, that what we want tends to collide, and that there cannot be two winners. From Knowledge is born Misery. We all dream of greener grass on the other side.
And perhaps the worst of all, from Knowledge is born Man, the greatest enemy of Nature, yet also the one who knows the most of it.
Sometimes I wonder if Man really knows what he is doing. We actively strive towards the future, faster, taller, higher - like one gigantic hornet swarm rolling up towards the blue sky, with no signs of hesitation, no notion of reprieve, just horribly bent on achieving what we set out to achieve. Yet most of the time we do not know what it is that we want. We progress eagerly but blindly. Aiming but with no direction. It is a system of the blind leading the blind, each with his own reasons, each guided by his own intuition, each aware of a common goal we have yet to discover.
But we are also aware to some degree at least that what we are seeing could be one gigantic, incorporeal illusion. We know that none of us knows the way. And thus from our blindfolds is born distrust, a wild animalistic distrust that roils within because we know of a light beyond this darkness which we cannot see.
It is time for Man to stop in his tracks for a short while and recount the way he has come. He needs to learn of the things he has recklessly thrown away and lost, and remind himself of the remaining things he possesses that should be guarded more carefully. He must wake up. Wake up from this limbo state of sleepwalking, wake up to a real world where personal awareness is no longer the largest part of life. He must know that life is never fulfilled, that existence is never meaningful without finding that something we have set out to achieve a long time ago.
If you believe in destiny, think of everything in life as little cogs that propel a larger system - good or bad, positive or negative, it doesn't matter. Destiny will guide you to where you are destined to go, it will be your compass, your map, and also your ship. If you believe in God, believe that he has planned things out for your own good, that he wants you to have these experiences because they make up who you are, who you're meant to be. If you are spiritual, live life knowing that you are in one with the Creator, that you are a creator within yourself.
Nobody can control our lives. We create life. We create ourselves.
***
~~~*Played with the Winds at 11.05am*~~~
Thanks to all the blogs the designer referred to (countless) for html code help :) (esp. cyn' and sixseven)
Adobe Photoshop Elements for supernatural abilities
