Pieces of Pessimism
26 Sep 2011 4 Comments
in Random.
Sorry for the lack of updates lately.
Actually, no, I’m not sorry.
I haven’t been able to dredge up the enthusiasm to post anything. Now, I know that you don’t have to be happy or perky or emo or anything to write. But if I do write in a zombie-like state, I’d be doing a disservice to you guys and to myself. An unfeeling post is nothing. It’s just letters (or html codes) placed together into words. I’d be better off sticking my head in a pot of jam or something. At least I’d enjoy that.
Anyway, I was scribbling away in a piece of paper, and I had a blinding, tear-inducing, life-changing epiphany. Shut up, you have no idea how I felt. Fine. I had a realization.
I know why I prefer writing physically than pressing white buttons on this 1 and a half square foot board. There’s something about seeing your hand moving to produce the black script, something about feeling the crackling paper beneath the hard tip of your pencil, there’s just something. I love how one’s emotions can be seen, just through one’s penmanship. When you’re angry, your writing is darker, more detached. When you’re happy, they seem to be rounder, more jovial, as if they carry a smile. When you’re bored or plain stoned, it becomes unintelligibly cursive.
On this keyboard, I could be eloping with an elephant, or punching the keys with vicious fury, and you just won’t be able to tell. Rant done, pessimism once again overrules.
Have a bunch of essays to murder and SATs to bomb, see y’all sometime next year.
Love, Jo.
PS I’m joking.
PPS I think.
A Golden Oldie, and Proud of It.
25 Jul 2011 7 Comments
in Random.
*Stay away if your iPod only consists of songs dating from the turn of the century. Actually, you know what, read on and blast debate with me in the comment section.*
Increasingly, I now find myself switching from one radio station to another, muttering under my breath about how music nowadays suck. (My irritated father usually turns off the whole thing by the 7th switch anyway.)
Yes, SUCK. The days where singers sang about love without ever having to bring sex into it are slipping through my fingers like freshwater. Or maybe, little tidbits hinting at sex are fine. Totally cool.
Cheap, trashy and head-ache inducing are how I would describe the music of nowadays. Who wants to listen to you making love in a club? Also, my little brother definitely doesn’t need to know that whips and chains excite you. And God forbid that I think its alright because I like the way it hurts. (I notice we’ve veered off sex for a bit, but bear with me. Are we really abuse-happy nowadays? Wtf?)
What happened to innocence? What happened to the time where sex was actually something binding and to be cherished, not some random hook up in a dark alleyway? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some abstinence freak. But really, music is something that should not be sullied. Britney and Rebecca are auto tuned within an inch of their lives and there’s only so much electropunk that I can listen to before my ears start rusting.
I like happy songs, I like songs that ( I’m gonna sound about 40 years old, but what the heck) are WHOLESOME.
I shall end the rant with a song that has been one of my main shower singing, giddy-skipping and smile inducing mantras. Click it and enjoy what real music should be like.
Somber.
01 Jul 2011 8 Comments
in Personal
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all worth it. Why the USA? Well-meaning but irritatingly curious people ask me this question all the time, and it’s painful not being able to answer them. Oh, sure, I could go on about how the education system is different, and expound passionately about how, at 18 years old, I just can’t commit to a course, which I would have to do in another country. Which, while true, doesn’t strike me as a good enough reason to be absolutely set on an American education.
Maybe it is, but I’ve been repeating myself so many times, I feel like saying ‘I don’t know already!’ and subsequently burst into tears. And that’s the truth. I don’t know why I want to study in the States so badly. Its been this way since Form 5, or Year 11, as some of you internationals call it. I’ve gotten offers from UMelbourne, ANU, NUS, Toronto..the list goes on, but somehow I can’t envision myself there. I’ve rejected or deferred all the offers, squeezing my eyes shut in anguish while doing so because at the very least, I’ll be spending another year wandering, or at the very worst, I’ve just closed a window of opportunity.
Maybe one day I’ll glance through this blog post, smile and murmur : ‘Silly. You didn’t have to worry about anything.’ I hope the 18 year old will tell her future self that she probably wouldn’t be where she is without all the worry. Convoluted, I know, but bear with my twisted thoughts.
However, in a weird but inexplicably comforting way, not knowing why I’m dying to go to the US gives me even more motivation to do so. When I can give concrete reasons as to why I want to go someplace or why I want to do something, it’s easy to find weak spots and argue against those reasons. But when I can’t pinpoint the reason and yet still feel the fire burning within me, well, what is there to speak against?
It’s rather like faith. Scratch that, it IS faith. The unexplained belief that something will come to pass. My faith that I will make it to the US against all odds, faith that nothing will pull me down, faith that this IS my future. After all, what’s faith without doubt? They aren’t separate quantities, as many people think. Without doubt, I wouldn’t have something to believe in, I wouldn’t have something to fight for.
I’m keeping the faith, and that alone will get me there in the end.
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