Shared misery is halved
It was Hari Raya day in Singapore today (or yesterday), and that meant no classes! To the Muslims in Singapore and elsewhere, it meant celebrations of joy (and food)! It was Deepavali also last Saturday, and that was a cause for celebration for all Hindus everywhere. Ah.. holidays are good things. They make people happy, and in a meaningful way at that.
My day was OK. I was productive to some extent: made some notes (though incomplete still) for my EN3249: The Body presentation on Friday, met up with Josef, a Swedish exchange student, and had a fruitful discussion regarding our Financial Maths project (Joseph and Josef haha) and he even invited me to his floor where he gave me yummy Swedish meatballs and rye crisp with roe for snacks, and later, back in my room, I was able to do a good chunk of the project and did some research on my Cultural Studies project on Reality TV.
So yep, it was a good day after all.
Samantha, my Cultural Studies groupmate and tutorialmate too in my EN2113 Intro to Film and Cultural Texts last sem, messaged me and shared she had lately been bawling her eyes out. When I asked why, she said it's because of the incredible stress she's experiencing right now. She took it out on her family members, she shared. I was like, haha! Same here Sam! I'm so incredibly stressed I take it out on the people around me. Thus I would like to apologize to Aaron, Joanne, and Iris for my recent bouts of.. weirdness, for lack of better words. And to Irene, too, my study buddy for 2 subjects this sem! Thanks for tolerating my rantings on the world at large.:)
Where is this post leading again? Hmm.. beats me. My head's too fried right now, apparently.
I can tell you though, that I'm still not well. That there's this cloud of depression that's threatening to engulf me (Charles, multi-tasker extraordinaire, Medicine Year 3 and my Bass Section Leader in the Choir, tells me this isn't quite clinical depression yet haha! Depression has been taken so loosely by the rest of the world [me included] apparently).
While shared misery is indeed halved, the loaded term in this phrase that needs to be qualified is "shared". What is does it really mean to "share"? It's not a request, it's not a demand; but I feel it's something that friends do. Now the loaded term in the previous sentence is "friends".
My "status" (or message or whatnot) on Windows Live Messenger is "alone with everybody". Owing to my incoherence and sleepiness, I shall not attempt to explain the link between the points I'm just spurting out here. But what I simply want to highlight is that given the notion that shared misery is halved, feeling alone with everybody is just plain sad, and depressing, and wrong.
* * *
Thanks Kristia, Kirth, Kerwin (all K's!) for the nice (although short) chats we had online. I've talked to Jasper too (been a while old buddy!), how are you Jacques btw? I hope you're well and safe and sound back in Davao. My other old friends and Yahoo! contacts who I haven't chatted with in a long while, please go online!:)
High school was so much fun.
Conversations with myself (edited)
Conversations with myself
Some people cheer you up just by being there. Thank you very much. If not for you, I would have broken into shards by now. Thanks too to Yahoo Messenger and Windows Live Messenger for crossing the gap.
What's your problem, Jose, really?
*paragraph deleted*
Hmmm.. maybe I should not post this on the blog. Maybe I can, but not without omissions, at least.
Some people cheer you up just by being there. Thank you very much. If not for you, I would have broken into shards by now. Thanks too to Yahoo Messenger and Windows Live Messenger for crossing the gap.
What's your problem, Jose, really?
*paragraph deleted*
Hmmm.. maybe I should not post this on the blog. Maybe I can, but not without omissions, at least.
No hangover
No hangover
It's official. (Caution: unpleasant blog entry, don't read if you want a happy post)
Although this semester has had a few of its bright moments, and even if last sem seemed impossible to top on the "worst" list, I declare this semester as the worst one ever, on many counts. I've never felt so bad about myself, until now. I think I've turned into a monster, and I'm a hazard to everyone, most especially to myself. If only I could pry my mugger self apart from my irrational, unreasonable, presumptuous, and deprived self, that would be terrific.
But since I'm helpless about that, I'll have to grit my teeth and bear with me.
It's official. (Caution: unpleasant blog entry, don't read if you want a happy post)
Although this semester has had a few of its bright moments, and even if last sem seemed impossible to top on the "worst" list, I declare this semester as the worst one ever, on many counts. I've never felt so bad about myself, until now. I think I've turned into a monster, and I'm a hazard to everyone, most especially to myself. If only I could pry my mugger self apart from my irrational, unreasonable, presumptuous, and deprived self, that would be terrific.
But since I'm helpless about that, I'll have to grit my teeth and bear with me.
Joseph gets high
Joseph gets high
The song's not very popular, but the title of this entry is patterned after Jimmy Gets High by Daniel Powter, you know, the guy who sang the smash hit Bad Day.
Anyway, Joseph's feeling all good tonight. Feeling Absolutly fine, in fact. Haha.
I thoroughly enjoyed the BBQ at West Coast Park in celebration of Ivy's birthday. Rohit, Ivy's Indian boyfriend (Ivy's my high school classmate of four years and my scholarshipmate here in SG), prepared a "surprise" BBQ for her, but Ivy unintentionally saw the groceries in Rohit's room the night before, so haha, what can I say.
Anyway, it was good to chitchat again with Korinna, another of my high school batchmates, and who I haven't quite chatted with for the longest time. I missed her, needless to say. :) Hope she and her boyfriend Sundeep go strong despite whatever odds.
Karen was there, and of course that's always a treat. Seriously. Haha I love you Chicken. Before you get any ideas, her Mauritian boyfriend Mega was there as well, and--Karen you better quote me on this--I have to say they're the perfect match. He wittily matches Karen's sense of humor, and they're just a sweet couple together.
I also met Aditi, Ivy's Indian friend, who has an American accent because she's lived in the US and has been traveling around since her dad's a diplomat, and she's ultra cool. I like. It's just bam, you know a fun and cool girl when you see her.
The Indian bunch were there as well, and they're such a fun-loving and laughing group. Being an international student myself, I've always had a certain affinity to fellow international students, even during my bridging year two years ago, and the Indian bunch was no exception. I'm glad that Ivy is in good hands.
Later, past 10PM, the Pinoy bunch of Jayson, Cecilia, Gail, and Cassy dropped over. I'm so glad they came by even if it was rather late! I miss those guys, and the rest of the Filipinos. They saw me when I was half-tipsy already, though, but no matter, it's good laugh when in good company.
Thanks to the great company, yummy BBQ food, and Absolut Vodka for making me high tonight. Thanks Korinna and Karen for tolerating my rantings on the suckiness of life, and don't worry, something has absolutly done the trick. :)
Tomorrow I'll stress about my stuff, but not tonight. =P
* * *
Dad called! Amazing. One of the very rare times that Dad calls. Not his fault, it was sort of our agreement that I would do the calling, since I get charged for received calls here, and so it's so much cheaper if I call home. Thus I was so apprehensive when I heard his voice, because something strange or unusual or God forbid, disastrous, may have just happened, but thankfully, nothing of that sort occurred.
Did you book your ticket already, was among my dad's first questions. Good thing the network was down last night, and I was forced to postpone my booking of the flight back home to Davao to today. And today I was caught up with stuff, so I wasn't able to book. And then Dad called.
Dad and Kai might be dropping Singapore 16th to 19th December! I'm very happy really. I think there's something just--for lack of better words--wrong, with your family not seeing your University, when you've been studying in it for almost four years, and the air tickets aren't even so costly because Singapore isn't really too far from home. I remember joking around and asking them, how do they really know I go to a University? For all they know I could be faking everything and going on a long holiday every time. Right?
* * *
Later when I was back at Ridge View Residences, I dropped by Joanne's room and had a fun and lively chitchat with her and Iris. I was still quite high, and it's very fun and refreshing to talk about happy things, even not-so-happy things with a fun twist, in contrast to depressing and stressful academics and choir stuff.
We should do this more often. :) Even with Aaron too.
* * *
Just now, I've just come to an important realization: Assume nothing. Of schoolwork and tests and exams, of friendship and relationships. It's just disturbing when one is suddenly slapped with a piece of irrevocable truth, subverting all assumptions, and making one feel stupid and betrayed.
Joanne posed a question I can't get off my head: Why do you even bother? Maybe I shouldn't because it doesn't really involve me, but I don't know, I guess some people just pour more of themselves into friendships, and tend to make lofty ideal notions, which in reality don't exist.
* * *
To you, I'm sorry I've been treating you like a doormat. Even doormats need doormats too.
* * *
Hmm... Apparently the highness has run out. Back to bed tonight, and back to schoolwork tomorrow!
The song's not very popular, but the title of this entry is patterned after Jimmy Gets High by Daniel Powter, you know, the guy who sang the smash hit Bad Day.
Anyway, Joseph's feeling all good tonight. Feeling Absolutly fine, in fact. Haha.
I thoroughly enjoyed the BBQ at West Coast Park in celebration of Ivy's birthday. Rohit, Ivy's Indian boyfriend (Ivy's my high school classmate of four years and my scholarshipmate here in SG), prepared a "surprise" BBQ for her, but Ivy unintentionally saw the groceries in Rohit's room the night before, so haha, what can I say.
Anyway, it was good to chitchat again with Korinna, another of my high school batchmates, and who I haven't quite chatted with for the longest time. I missed her, needless to say. :) Hope she and her boyfriend Sundeep go strong despite whatever odds.
Karen was there, and of course that's always a treat. Seriously. Haha I love you Chicken. Before you get any ideas, her Mauritian boyfriend Mega was there as well, and--Karen you better quote me on this--I have to say they're the perfect match. He wittily matches Karen's sense of humor, and they're just a sweet couple together.
I also met Aditi, Ivy's Indian friend, who has an American accent because she's lived in the US and has been traveling around since her dad's a diplomat, and she's ultra cool. I like. It's just bam, you know a fun and cool girl when you see her.
The Indian bunch were there as well, and they're such a fun-loving and laughing group. Being an international student myself, I've always had a certain affinity to fellow international students, even during my bridging year two years ago, and the Indian bunch was no exception. I'm glad that Ivy is in good hands.
Later, past 10PM, the Pinoy bunch of Jayson, Cecilia, Gail, and Cassy dropped over. I'm so glad they came by even if it was rather late! I miss those guys, and the rest of the Filipinos. They saw me when I was half-tipsy already, though, but no matter, it's good laugh when in good company.
Thanks to the great company, yummy BBQ food, and Absolut Vodka for making me high tonight. Thanks Korinna and Karen for tolerating my rantings on the suckiness of life, and don't worry, something has absolutly done the trick. :)
Tomorrow I'll stress about my stuff, but not tonight. =P
* * *
Dad called! Amazing. One of the very rare times that Dad calls. Not his fault, it was sort of our agreement that I would do the calling, since I get charged for received calls here, and so it's so much cheaper if I call home. Thus I was so apprehensive when I heard his voice, because something strange or unusual or God forbid, disastrous, may have just happened, but thankfully, nothing of that sort occurred.
Did you book your ticket already, was among my dad's first questions. Good thing the network was down last night, and I was forced to postpone my booking of the flight back home to Davao to today. And today I was caught up with stuff, so I wasn't able to book. And then Dad called.
Dad and Kai might be dropping Singapore 16th to 19th December! I'm very happy really. I think there's something just--for lack of better words--wrong, with your family not seeing your University, when you've been studying in it for almost four years, and the air tickets aren't even so costly because Singapore isn't really too far from home. I remember joking around and asking them, how do they really know I go to a University? For all they know I could be faking everything and going on a long holiday every time. Right?
* * *
Later when I was back at Ridge View Residences, I dropped by Joanne's room and had a fun and lively chitchat with her and Iris. I was still quite high, and it's very fun and refreshing to talk about happy things, even not-so-happy things with a fun twist, in contrast to depressing and stressful academics and choir stuff.
We should do this more often. :) Even with Aaron too.
* * *
Just now, I've just come to an important realization: Assume nothing. Of schoolwork and tests and exams, of friendship and relationships. It's just disturbing when one is suddenly slapped with a piece of irrevocable truth, subverting all assumptions, and making one feel stupid and betrayed.
Joanne posed a question I can't get off my head: Why do you even bother? Maybe I shouldn't because it doesn't really involve me, but I don't know, I guess some people just pour more of themselves into friendships, and tend to make lofty ideal notions, which in reality don't exist.
* * *
To you, I'm sorry I've been treating you like a doormat. Even doormats need doormats too.
* * *
Hmm... Apparently the highness has run out. Back to bed tonight, and back to schoolwork tomorrow!
Feel better in the morning
Feel better in the morning
It's been said that if one's feeling unwell at night, he should sleep just sleep it out and he'll feel better in the morning.
Thanks to a good nap, Joseph is, apart from a mild headache, feeling much better now and all ready to take on more of Financial Maths and Linear Algebra and English tutorials.
And it's not even morning yet. :)
It's been said that if one's feeling unwell at night, he should sleep just sleep it out and he'll feel better in the morning.
Thanks to a good nap, Joseph is, apart from a mild headache, feeling much better now and all ready to take on more of Financial Maths and Linear Algebra and English tutorials.
And it's not even morning yet. :)
:(
:(
Life sucks. It's worse when one realises that the common factor in all of one's misfortunes is himself. Then again, it's good he realised it long before he deludes himself into thinking otherwise.
I suck. Maybe a personality change is in order. Maybe I should go and hide my blog in a secret place too.
Life sucks. It's worse when one realises that the common factor in all of one's misfortunes is himself. Then again, it's good he realised it long before he deludes himself into thinking otherwise.
I suck. Maybe a personality change is in order. Maybe I should go and hide my blog in a secret place too.
Happiness comes in spurts
Happiness comes in spurts
Wow, that previous entry had a lot of grammatical errors. Oh well. It was a blog entry anyway, not an article or an essay, and it pretty much, like blogs do, described my state of mind at 4AM in the morning.
Too many depressing entries lately, don't you think? Well, it's not all that bad, really, I must clarify, lest you think I'm going in a hopeless downward spiral and I'm helpless and resigned to my fate.
Happiness comes in spurts, I think, and what nice spurts they turn out to be sometimes. Right now, however, after receiving my Linear Algebra 2 midterm test results, with Stochastic Processes and Financial Maths midetrm test looming in the distance, the spurts are suspended, with not quite a promise of an immediate return.
Wow, that previous entry had a lot of grammatical errors. Oh well. It was a blog entry anyway, not an article or an essay, and it pretty much, like blogs do, described my state of mind at 4AM in the morning.
Too many depressing entries lately, don't you think? Well, it's not all that bad, really, I must clarify, lest you think I'm going in a hopeless downward spiral and I'm helpless and resigned to my fate.
Happiness comes in spurts, I think, and what nice spurts they turn out to be sometimes. Right now, however, after receiving my Linear Algebra 2 midterm test results, with Stochastic Processes and Financial Maths midetrm test looming in the distance, the spurts are suspended, with not quite a promise of an immediate return.
Five depressing texts (and counting)
Five depressing texts (and counting)
I still can't believe I posted only two blog entries in September. Joseph the once-hardcore blogger--who would have thought? Oh well. There's always something blogworthy really; I just don't have the time.
It's now 3:18AM and I have a 9AM class. Why am I blogging? Do I really have the time?
No. Not really. Sleeping is the better thing to do.
I'm just sad. And maybe it's time for a wee bit of catharsis, courtesy of the Moonstruck Inc.
* * *
I've read from one of Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson that it's sadness, not happiness, that's hard to place. The book, about an ungendered person, relating his/her romantic experiences with women and even a few men, but most of all her intense longing for Louise, a married woman whom he/she has since been forced to leave. This book is one of the texts for my EN3249: The Body module, and it acutely describes a certain erotic perverseness, but one that is but a reflection of an intense desire to "corporealize" what has long been gone.
The other books we have discussed in that literature module are Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida, an academic discourse on the bodily issues in photography but which is based on Barthes' very sentimental experience of his death of his mother (whose Winter Garden photograph, he claims, captured her very essence); and J.M. Coetzee's Age of Iron, a tale of an old lady living in apartheid-governed South Africa, who was dying of cancer, and who now writes a letter to her daughter in America. She can relate to no one, but an alcoholic who one day appears by her doorstep.
Yesterday, we discussed Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, a short story about a young man, working to support his family, who one day wakes up as a gigantic insect. I won't give any spoilers, but yes, it's another depressing story. In my trip to Czech Republic with the choir last year, one of the attractions was this room in a row of apartments (which have become tourist shops now) that was supposedly where Kafka did his writing. I knew he was one of literature's icons, and I bought a book by him, and even kept a coffeebag with his image on it, when we ate at this Franz Kafka cafe. I vaguely knew he led quite a sad life, but I did not realize until now, how depressing really he lived. He wasn't dirt poor and pathetic, in fact he was always smartly dressed, but he had this air of melancholy about him in photographs. He's a Jew, too, and that's a significant explanation. Metamorphosis, he claimed was not a confession, but an indiscretion, indicating just the same the personal and societal issues he was conveying through his literature.
I've also spent a long time during the midterm break reading Michel Faber's Under the Skin. It is the story of a female driver, who picks up hunky, muscly hitchhikers, drugs them and brings them home. She does this every day for years. But no, contrary to what readers may initially think, the book takes a darker, more depressing turn, and enters the realm of the grotesque and ugly and unnatural. It leads us to think about what really is human? What is natural? Are we really the same 'under the skin'?
It's an engaging book, but I was slowed down because I had to do close reading (very close reading in fact) of it, as I was to present the corporeal issues in the book in the tutorial in a few weeks' time (20% of the final grade). But yeah, no spoilers, but it's another depressing book.
More depressing texts to follow, I believe, as we encounter more of Kafka next week in The Penal Colony and later on, Sylvia Plath's Fat Black Woman's Poems, among others.
* * *
It's so much easier to place sadness when you have a scapegoat. I do. It's the five literary texts I've read for my EN3249. Literature is just fascinating that way. It affects you in ways you don't quite expect. It's escapism at its finest, a new realm, with new characters and more exciting events.
Escapism, really, for people who are burdened with work, and have strained physical, mental, and emotional states. Social states too. Academic states too, predictably.
Maybe there is a causative relationship between exhaustion and sadness. There is, I'm sure, between exhaustion and sleepiness, now, at 3:58AM, Joseph Sorongon will sleep.
I still can't believe I posted only two blog entries in September. Joseph the once-hardcore blogger--who would have thought? Oh well. There's always something blogworthy really; I just don't have the time.
It's now 3:18AM and I have a 9AM class. Why am I blogging? Do I really have the time?
No. Not really. Sleeping is the better thing to do.
I'm just sad. And maybe it's time for a wee bit of catharsis, courtesy of the Moonstruck Inc.
* * *
I've read from one of Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson that it's sadness, not happiness, that's hard to place. The book, about an ungendered person, relating his/her romantic experiences with women and even a few men, but most of all her intense longing for Louise, a married woman whom he/she has since been forced to leave. This book is one of the texts for my EN3249: The Body module, and it acutely describes a certain erotic perverseness, but one that is but a reflection of an intense desire to "corporealize" what has long been gone.
The other books we have discussed in that literature module are Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida, an academic discourse on the bodily issues in photography but which is based on Barthes' very sentimental experience of his death of his mother (whose Winter Garden photograph, he claims, captured her very essence); and J.M. Coetzee's Age of Iron, a tale of an old lady living in apartheid-governed South Africa, who was dying of cancer, and who now writes a letter to her daughter in America. She can relate to no one, but an alcoholic who one day appears by her doorstep.
Yesterday, we discussed Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, a short story about a young man, working to support his family, who one day wakes up as a gigantic insect. I won't give any spoilers, but yes, it's another depressing story. In my trip to Czech Republic with the choir last year, one of the attractions was this room in a row of apartments (which have become tourist shops now) that was supposedly where Kafka did his writing. I knew he was one of literature's icons, and I bought a book by him, and even kept a coffeebag with his image on it, when we ate at this Franz Kafka cafe. I vaguely knew he led quite a sad life, but I did not realize until now, how depressing really he lived. He wasn't dirt poor and pathetic, in fact he was always smartly dressed, but he had this air of melancholy about him in photographs. He's a Jew, too, and that's a significant explanation. Metamorphosis, he claimed was not a confession, but an indiscretion, indicating just the same the personal and societal issues he was conveying through his literature.
I've also spent a long time during the midterm break reading Michel Faber's Under the Skin. It is the story of a female driver, who picks up hunky, muscly hitchhikers, drugs them and brings them home. She does this every day for years. But no, contrary to what readers may initially think, the book takes a darker, more depressing turn, and enters the realm of the grotesque and ugly and unnatural. It leads us to think about what really is human? What is natural? Are we really the same 'under the skin'?
It's an engaging book, but I was slowed down because I had to do close reading (very close reading in fact) of it, as I was to present the corporeal issues in the book in the tutorial in a few weeks' time (20% of the final grade). But yeah, no spoilers, but it's another depressing book.
More depressing texts to follow, I believe, as we encounter more of Kafka next week in The Penal Colony and later on, Sylvia Plath's Fat Black Woman's Poems, among others.
* * *
It's so much easier to place sadness when you have a scapegoat. I do. It's the five literary texts I've read for my EN3249. Literature is just fascinating that way. It affects you in ways you don't quite expect. It's escapism at its finest, a new realm, with new characters and more exciting events.
Escapism, really, for people who are burdened with work, and have strained physical, mental, and emotional states. Social states too. Academic states too, predictably.
Maybe there is a causative relationship between exhaustion and sadness. There is, I'm sure, between exhaustion and sleepiness, now, at 3:58AM, Joseph Sorongon will sleep.
