monkeycrap's Diaryland Diary
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we do not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand in it.
There comes a time in every man's life where he stops and realises that it's time to take charge, to be in complete control, to do something useful with his life. To make a difference. To advocate change. To find the all-elusive purpose.
Nah, not this hols. Maybe next time. For I've more or less decided to try to live out most of this 3 month break in a state of nothing-doingness, whenever possible on a couch with my 2 best companions, unambition and aimlessness. (Some friends might argue that the 2 best companions for effective couch living would actually be Ben and Jerry's, fair enough.)
So yeah basically, it's been a good past 2 weeks of rather blissful living, of sleeping late and till late, of sleeping late and making up for the deficit next afternoon on a deck chair by the pool, of morning runs and immediate nullification with pratas, of giving renditions of hyperactive chair-bouncing Mayday songs at kbox, of chit-chat sessions that involve inadvertent overloading of the central nervous system with Starbucks registered caffeine, of free esplanade performances, of the post-performance walk along the fullerton stretch, of the inevitable 'loop ad infinitum' - TV, eat, doze off, wake up, change, go downstairs, buy food, TV, eat, doze off, wake up, etc.
I'm fully aware that this overwhelming nuaness, this deficiency in motivation, this unambition, this aimlessness, this deprivation of zest, it's not cool, not particularly attractive and rather frowned upon actually. This I got from reading the entries in the highly acclaimed monthly journal of sociological dissertations, otherwise known as Men's Health.
But hey, one crazy semester of school, activities, tuition, not studying, regretting, and hence averaging 10-12 hrs daily of cram jam one week before the exams. Think it justifies making up for the lack of slack.
Like what Aunt May said in Spiderman, "Shouldn't be so hard on yourself, if not how to fight black creepy symbiote?" Ok, she actually said, "Before you can begin fixing anything, you must first start by doing the hardest thing... forgiving yourself." Ah, potayto potahto, same difference. But yeah, somehow that old cow always happens to say the right things at the right time, so it's best to listen to that wrinkled cactus I guess.
Kids these days suck. Yeah I could be making a sweeping statement, but in general, kids these days suck. Maybe it's the newspaper reports. Maybe it's my own biased personal observations at work. Maybe it's the stories Es's told me about the horrors of being a relief teacher. Maybe it's the stories Cal told me about conducting music camps and being on the receiving end of snobbishness from kids of a prestigious primary school. Maybe it's the 12 year old with multiple piercings chillin' out by the Ronald Mcdonald bench we saw at Jurong Point the other day. Maybe it's walking home one day and noticing the substantial increase in void deck vulgarities scribbled everywhere (oh c'mon, it was definitely done by one of our bright future hopes), maybe it's the bunch of lower secondary freaktoids at the back of bus 22, who, today, decided to see who can imitate pikachu's shrieking the best. Yeah, I kid you not. Everyone in the bus were pissed. They expected a smooth bus ride. Little did they expect to be jolted out of their senses every 5 seconds by an unbearably shrill and penetrating "PIKA!!" or "PEE-KA-PEE-KA" or a "CHUUU" louder than Bobby's sneeze.
Okay, you say I might be a lil' harsh on them, they're just kids, we're all strands in the web of life (see title of entry). Well, I'm just saying it's high time the sandman comes around to disintegrate some of these web strands.
4:21 p.m. - 2007-05-16
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