Milo van
violins
Jason Mraz's "You and I Both"
Nerina Pallot's "Sophia"
am i a lucky roommate or what?
sponge bath!
pull a fast one
the mythical lift (elevator) i've been pondering over lately
(is "over" the right word to follow "ponder"?)
why do people sink into depression?
(not why do people sink into depression?)
happy birthday
music! and choir
Penshoppe pink shirt that reads "out of my mind/back in 5 minutes"
feel-good jeans
quasi-monte carlo methods
did you miss me while you were looking for yourself?
do we have to be lost to find ourselves?
the Champagne Supernova "how many special people change" repeat playback in my head
17-year gap with boyfriend!
thanks for your notes
white tie, sexy
blue tie, with pj's!
red tie, where are you?
it was fun to be with you guys again
must we need an occasion to gather?
OK Go's "Oh Lately It's So Quiet"
if you're not here haunting me/whose house are you haunting tonight?
how does it feel to take morphine?
thanks for dinner
hey i missed you
all of you too, needless to say
"i got it from my momma" lol
hospitals still depress me
congrats robs!
the circle of trust
why didn't i discover this earlier?
shared activities
late nights, thank you
working harder than smarter, tsk tsk
missed out on ice cream, i'm sorry
missed out on good company -- next time ok? :)
will you scold me when i see you tomorrow?
hope portugal was good for you
dark cloud hovering
i sit down long enough, and it wraps me up
not the clinical kind, don't worry
"don't sit down" :)
microsoft excel
R
microsoft word
mcdonald's breakfast!
aren't you sweet
missing people
and the missing people
can't read you
stop reading me
connect the dots
go ahead, figure me out
Whatever happened to..?
Me.
I don't seem to like me very much right now. Just now I heard myself spurt out an expletive I didn't mean at all. I was shocked myself. Now I'm no stranger to expletives, and I believe that, when spoken at that precise time when the situation calls for it, an expletive works perfectly. It's still not a very nice thing, but that's the Joseph of late for you.
Lately I've been oscillating between sleepless, exhausted, lonely, ranty, cranky, sad, disappointed, confused, and all other points in between. Sure there have been good times, when I was hyper and relieved and genuinely happy and was actually having a fun time, but all these bright spots just pale when I sit back and ponder and allow this gloomy darkness to envelope me.
Why do I get too affected? Why can't I just shake off this Superman Syndrome? Ironically, I've been suffering from a bad case of inferiority complex too. Am I contradicting myself? Or am I just a plain wreck? Maybe I'm bipolar? What's wrong with me? Maybe it's just the weather?
I can't seem to be in-synch with the world. Or maybe it's the world I choose to have that's the problem; maybe I shouldn't expect much. As if I have been expecting a lot after all. As if I haven't been pessimistic enough lately.
God knows it takes precious little to make me happy. Why am I denied my little joys? Denied by my own doing, perhaps. Denied by the world I chose to create. Denied by the cosmos, too, most probably.
Am I complaining about the littlest things? Overly whiney again? Maybe, maybe not. I realise that as transparent as I may seem to everyone, and despite my reputation for being weird and emo and 'stress personified', no one except myself can tell the extent of the wreckage that is me.
Well, perhaps Sgt Pepper would know.
(And this blog entry, like the previous one, is not one for Multiplying.)
I don't seem to like me very much right now. Just now I heard myself spurt out an expletive I didn't mean at all. I was shocked myself. Now I'm no stranger to expletives, and I believe that, when spoken at that precise time when the situation calls for it, an expletive works perfectly. It's still not a very nice thing, but that's the Joseph of late for you.
Lately I've been oscillating between sleepless, exhausted, lonely, ranty, cranky, sad, disappointed, confused, and all other points in between. Sure there have been good times, when I was hyper and relieved and genuinely happy and was actually having a fun time, but all these bright spots just pale when I sit back and ponder and allow this gloomy darkness to envelope me.
Why do I get too affected? Why can't I just shake off this Superman Syndrome? Ironically, I've been suffering from a bad case of inferiority complex too. Am I contradicting myself? Or am I just a plain wreck? Maybe I'm bipolar? What's wrong with me? Maybe it's just the weather?
I can't seem to be in-synch with the world. Or maybe it's the world I choose to have that's the problem; maybe I shouldn't expect much. As if I have been expecting a lot after all. As if I haven't been pessimistic enough lately.
God knows it takes precious little to make me happy. Why am I denied my little joys? Denied by my own doing, perhaps. Denied by the world I chose to create. Denied by the cosmos, too, most probably.
Am I complaining about the littlest things? Overly whiney again? Maybe, maybe not. I realise that as transparent as I may seem to everyone, and despite my reputation for being weird and emo and 'stress personified', no one except myself can tell the extent of the wreckage that is me.
Well, perhaps Sgt Pepper would know.
(And this blog entry, like the previous one, is not one for Multiplying.)
Three's
Joseph can't quite blog as long as he would love to, because there's just no time. There's a draft saved, but he couldn't finish it, so that's that. It's a shame, really, because catharsis would be a good thing right about now.
* * *
Over dinner with Cedric at Burger King last night, I again mentioned the Superman Syndrome (or well, actually, Spiderman may be a bit more accurate since Peter Parker is more of a emo wreck) which I claim to be suffering from. It's this drive to "save" people who remotely need some kind of help, the drive to do whatever I can, even if it's none of my business, even if I'm close to prying, even if the persons don't even want or need any saving or help. Cedric said he may have the Kyo Syndrome, which essentially, is the total opposite; Kyo is an anime character who was a cold and brutal samurai, known to have mercilessly slain many other warriors.
* * *
Tonight I had dinner at Subway with Hayati, who claims she "came all the way from the the other side of the country to see me" (indeed Pasir Ris/Tampines are indeed on the other end). She was one of my close friends during the past two years while she was in NUS. She agreed that my Superman Syndrome is also known as "Kaypoh" Syndrome (check Singlish dictionary definition here), she mentioned that she accomplished quite a feat dealing with her recent issues, and she's just simply fun to talk to -- maybe because we're both a mess.
* * *
Three midterm tests down, and I'm officially beat. I flunked one, and I feel horrible about it. Honours Year Project presentation went OK, yesterday, never mind if I had a grand total of 5 hours of sleep in two days.
* * *
Today I had nine hours of of sleep. After the HYP presentation yesterday, I thought I'd give myself a break. I was surprisingly up and about and giddy when I woke up at noon, and then after a while, it felt odd, even somewhat wrong; the last time I slept so long was about three months ago.
* * *
I was bloghopping yesterday and two things struck me: Paul's euthanasia post with the curious concept of a person's "duty to die", and Wayne's post on "new people". For a person who puts a high premium on friendship, I've been thinking about the people I've met, the friends I made, the friends I thought I made, the kind who seem friendly one minute and strangely turn cold in the next, the friends I've made before but who I rarely meet now, the hi-bye people I'd like to befriend even more but circumstances wouldn't allow, the friendships that just happen, those that you just know are genuine and intact, regardless of the time spent together in the friendship-building stage, of the frequency of contact, of the presence or absence of unfriendly times that supposedly strengthen the bond (I know of a person who thinks real friends have to have a a fight somehow for them to be considered close friends). Cedric thinks I'm overly friendly, to the point of being too transparent, and I agree, actually, that it may be a fault; maybe I'll try being more opaque.
* * *
James Blunt's new single is called 1973. I don't particularly find the song fantastic, and I like Rachael Yamagata's 1963 more -- it's just summery and lovely. But if I were to choose a song named after years (and that end in three too), I guess I'd go for John Mayer's 83.
I'd post more, but I feel I've taken too long to write this entry yet again. I have two sentences left to say what I want (unless I use fancy punctuation marks and sentence coordinators like the 'and' that's coming up after the comma), and maybe I'll use the first to say that all-nighters and exhaustion and intensive brain activity and overthinking about friendships and relationships don't exactly make a happy mix. I guess I'll just have to find my own lingaw (loosely translated it means "fun"), as my Bisaya friend in Davao used to say, but until I get into the groove of finding good stuff from the little things I used to enjoy, I think I need to just rest, and breathe, and relax, and, well, actually, I could use a hug and a pat too.
* * *
Over dinner with Cedric at Burger King last night, I again mentioned the Superman Syndrome (or well, actually, Spiderman may be a bit more accurate since Peter Parker is more of a emo wreck) which I claim to be suffering from. It's this drive to "save" people who remotely need some kind of help, the drive to do whatever I can, even if it's none of my business, even if I'm close to prying, even if the persons don't even want or need any saving or help. Cedric said he may have the Kyo Syndrome, which essentially, is the total opposite; Kyo is an anime character who was a cold and brutal samurai, known to have mercilessly slain many other warriors.
* * *
Tonight I had dinner at Subway with Hayati, who claims she "came all the way from the the other side of the country to see me" (indeed Pasir Ris/Tampines are indeed on the other end). She was one of my close friends during the past two years while she was in NUS. She agreed that my Superman Syndrome is also known as "Kaypoh" Syndrome (check Singlish dictionary definition here), she mentioned that she accomplished quite a feat dealing with her recent issues, and she's just simply fun to talk to -- maybe because we're both a mess.
* * *
Three midterm tests down, and I'm officially beat. I flunked one, and I feel horrible about it. Honours Year Project presentation went OK, yesterday, never mind if I had a grand total of 5 hours of sleep in two days.
* * *
Today I had nine hours of of sleep. After the HYP presentation yesterday, I thought I'd give myself a break. I was surprisingly up and about and giddy when I woke up at noon, and then after a while, it felt odd, even somewhat wrong; the last time I slept so long was about three months ago.
* * *
I was bloghopping yesterday and two things struck me: Paul's euthanasia post with the curious concept of a person's "duty to die", and Wayne's post on "new people". For a person who puts a high premium on friendship, I've been thinking about the people I've met, the friends I made, the friends I thought I made, the kind who seem friendly one minute and strangely turn cold in the next, the friends I've made before but who I rarely meet now, the hi-bye people I'd like to befriend even more but circumstances wouldn't allow, the friendships that just happen, those that you just know are genuine and intact, regardless of the time spent together in the friendship-building stage, of the frequency of contact, of the presence or absence of unfriendly times that supposedly strengthen the bond (I know of a person who thinks real friends have to have a a fight somehow for them to be considered close friends). Cedric thinks I'm overly friendly, to the point of being too transparent, and I agree, actually, that it may be a fault; maybe I'll try being more opaque.
* * *
James Blunt's new single is called 1973. I don't particularly find the song fantastic, and I like Rachael Yamagata's 1963 more -- it's just summery and lovely. But if I were to choose a song named after years (and that end in three too), I guess I'd go for John Mayer's 83.
I have these dreams I'm walking home* * *
home where it used to be
everything is as it was
frozen in front of me
here I stand six feet small
romanticizing years ago
but it's a bittersweet feeling
hearing "Wrapped Around Your Finger" on the radio
and these days
I wish I was six again
oh make me a red cape
I wanna be Superman
oh if only my life was more like 1983
all these things would be more like they were at the start of me
had it made in 83
thinking 'bout my brother Ben
I miss him everyday
he looks just like his brother John
but on an eighteen month delay
here I stand six feet small
and smiling cause I'm scared as hell
kinda like your life is like a sequel to a movie
where the actors' names have changed
. . .
and most my memories have escaped me
or confused themselves with dreams
if heaven's all they want it to be
send your prayers to me care of 1983
. . .
I'd post more, but I feel I've taken too long to write this entry yet again. I have two sentences left to say what I want (unless I use fancy punctuation marks and sentence coordinators like the 'and' that's coming up after the comma), and maybe I'll use the first to say that all-nighters and exhaustion and intensive brain activity and overthinking about friendships and relationships don't exactly make a happy mix. I guess I'll just have to find my own lingaw (loosely translated it means "fun"), as my Bisaya friend in Davao used to say, but until I get into the groove of finding good stuff from the little things I used to enjoy, I think I need to just rest, and breathe, and relax, and, well, actually, I could use a hug and a pat too.
