Heard on Channel Newsasia's Amazing Asia:

"They have a wonderful vision for the future" - about a blind cricket club in Bangladesh.

I facepalmed.

Also, the world is returning to normal. Anwar has been accused of sodomy again (k I know this is old but I keep forgetting to mention it). Malaysia accuses another country (Turkey) of infringing on its rights. I laugh. At least the Malaysian newspapers will have something else besides Pedra Branca to bitch about now.

Today after the Math Studies paper, I walked home. The last time I had walked home from school, it was from a completely different school - so that was some 2 years ago. The route I took today was through Ghim Moh - which took me about 15 minutes of walking from school.

Walking through there in my grand ACS uniform, ears plugged with white apple earphones and carrying a brown f aux (I think) leather satchel with converse shod feet, I felt like the epitome of the stereotypical 'rich' upper class kid. I felt that with one look, everyone could tell that I didn't belong there. As I walked I saw various eyes wander about and land on me, studying me for a second before dismissing me as an outsider. It made me feel weird. I wanted to say "look I share the same skin colour as you!" but then they'd point out that I was speaking perfect English, and when I cry out "dan shi wo we ke yi jiang hua wen!" they'd laugh at my accented Mandarin.

This odd feeling of being in a world separate from mine was added too when I decided to cross the railway bridge at the back of Ghim Moh CC. Spanning a small depression where the railway tracks lay snugly in the middle and were bounded by lush growth on both sides is this peculiar bridge. I say peculiar because it looks like just any old overhead bridge, except there isn't a road underneath it. It's like the LTA got lazy and just used the same plans for every other overhead bridge. At the bridge, I stopped for about 5 minutes to admire the greenery and the quietness of the area.

While I was standing there and looking about still, I found myself suddenly struck by the symbolism of the railway tracks and the bridge. To my right lay Ghim Moh with her HDB flats and to my right lay Easy Sussex Lane, nicely split into two distinct areas by the train tracks. One area was decidedly Lower to Middle class and the other was definitely Upper Class. I found myself thinking about this quote from I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings which was about how the railway tracks in Stamps seperated the Black area from the White area. The exact quote I forget, but the gist was Maya saying that it was like stepping into a seperate world when she walked into the White area.

I again found myself struck by this idea that as a Singaporean who patronises Holland Village/Orchard Road often, has been going to nothing but 'name brand' schools her entire life and has never stayed in a property that was not landed - I am living anything but the typical Singaporean life. While Stamps in the '60s is a far cry from Singapore of the present, the idea of segregation remains. The situation is however, markedly different.

My grandparents were not born with silver spoons in their mouths - they came to Singapore with practically nothing in the '60s and started their own business on borrowed money. Along the way they took many risks, often sacrificing their health in order to run the business, bringing them to where they are today - able to enjoy a more than comfortable retirement, see that their offspring and their offspings's offspring live comfortably and travel the world according to their whims.

My mother was much less fortunate compared to my father. She was born the youngest daughter in a family of 8 to a illiterate mother and a taxi driver father. From a young age however, she set herself apart from the rest of her siblings by excelling in school. She was rejected from Paya Lebar MGS and instead opted to take the long commute home everyday by attending St Margarets' School. She ended up mucking up her O levels but somehow ended up in what was still know as RI then. She ended up mucking up her A levles again and couldn't attend a local university, so she kicked her heels about by working as a bank teller for a while. It was then that she realised she wanted something more for her life, she didn't want to be a bank teller forever! Instead through donations, loans from siblings and friends and using the savings of her parents and herself, she managed the scrape up enough money to minimally fund her education in Australia, working part time in order to pay her school fees and living expenses.

This might be taken to be an elitist view, but the point I'm trying to make is while I didn't do anything to achieve the status I'm enjoying now, my parents (and grandparents) put in their hard work to get where they are today. Sure, we'll never live in one of the grand homes I was gawking over as I walked through Queen Astrid Park, but I can't really say I'm poor either. Somehow, somewhere down the lines it has been this hard work put in that has made all the difference between 'Ghim Moh' and 'Sixth Avenue' (I'm not rich, don't kidnap me please), and as a result impacting my life greatly. I'm not saying that the other people didn't work hard, it's just that for whoever thinks they have worked hard enough, there is someone else out there who has worked harder and is still working.

Anyway to sum up this rather pointless expository, this idea of 'hard work' is something that should be kept in mind anytime a debate about 'Elitism' comes up. I might not be the best of examples, but if this ignorant child did not cram like hell for the PSLE, God knows where she would be today and what she would be like. Hard work, literally, works. This is something that all (especially people with the name L.L.H.L. who aspire to be a doctors) of us as students should keep in mind especially for the next 5 months whether its A levels or IB exams. So never mind that I've fucked up this round of exams rather nicely, it's still about 9 weeks to the Pre Lims and that's plenty of time to adequately pull up my sagging grades into something presentable.

I have just accrued the worst possible thing for a lactose intolerant person like me: Cheese Hello Panda. LOL.

In other news, this Wired article is highly recommended (thanks to Mong!) for all litfags out there. Hello.

I love the one by Margaret Atwood:

"Longed for him. Got him. Shit."
- Margaret Atwood

OMG what the fuck?! Nightwish singing The Phantom of the Opera:



It sends shivers down my spine in an immensely creepy way, yet I find myself oddly drawn to it. Imagine listening to it right after turning up the volume to listen to Winds of Change, then being faced by an avalanche of weird Scandinavian accent and loud death metal :/

BRRRRRRR.

One of the positively worst emotions to feel is that of helplessness. As I write this, sitting in my room facing the busy main road, someone just across the road from me is lying on the asphalt. Now some 15 minutes after I first heard the bang of initial impact between motorcycle and car front wheel bumper - I hear the wail of an ambulance which is undoubtedly stuck in traffic somewhere behind. I personally wonder if it is the same paramedics in the ambulance as the ones that were right outside my doorstep yesterday, also tending to yet another road accident victim.

After the first bang, I did what all good kay poh Singaporeans concerned civic minded people do: I went outside to have a look. It was mainly to see if I could give any help, like call the ambulance or something, but a few people had already encircled the yellow shirted figure that was lying prone on the ground and I figured that they didn't need any more useless help. It's situations like this that I sometimes wish I had gone into Nursing school instead of trying to kill myself with the IB Programme (except there is one fatal flaw: how can a nurse be afraid of blood?)

I sometimes try to console myself with the idea that I'm a certified first aider, except this in itself is very fail because my own license has lapsed (I vow to renew it next year when I have the time!) and I don't think I can remember very much of the stuff I learned. Oh dear indeed.

Reading the newspapers earlier (speaking of which, did anyone read the piece of yellow journalism smashed right on the front page of The Straits Times on the 27th June? If not, read it's wonderful yellowness here) before the unmistakable sound of metal being crushed I read a terrifying article about a NUS student that got raped in Clementi Woods Park. The thing I find the scariest about it is that:

1) It happened to a university student - that's me in about 2 years
2) It happened in Singapore - what more when compared to other cities with higher crime rates?

The worst possible thing that could ever happen to a woman in my opinion is that of sexual assault. It is even worse than death because at least when I'm dead I'm not psychologically traumatised. I'm just very dead. I won't suffer from post traumatic disorder, I won't suffer from nightmares and I won't suffer from immense paralysing paranoia. So yes, I'd rather be killed first then raped, rather then the reverse where I'm freaking out as I'm dying. Also: I don't know why I'm thinking about such morbid stuff at 1:30 in the afternoon.

This brings me back to a point that Cheam brought up the other day when I was talking to him, which was to learn Krav Maga or some other self defense derivative. The thought of someone like me being all bulked up and hopping around trying to punch someone's lights out however, is extremely laughable. Still, the fear of being caught in a situation where one is helpless is very real and one that should be addressed whenever possible - just like the one I will encounter tomorrow when I face a Paper 1 Math exam that I have not studied for yet :/

Hi. I am a rat. I am not a very pretty rat, not a rat than can run very fast or a rat that's very intelligent.

All I can do is not stop people dead in their tracks with strikingly bad whiskers and woffly nose, get up and run as best as I can when I fall and learn the scent of cheese and avoid it.

I am a very lousy rat. But at least I am still a rat and not a sloth.

Today is an rather bloody day, which I am glad to have survived in more ways than one.

1) I had a nasty shock in the beginning of my English exam today when I looked at my left hand and realised there was blood smeared all over it. It took me a second later to realise that the source was a tiny scab I was mindlessly picking at just moments earlier while pondering over which question to do for English.

2) When I got home I found a letter from the um. Blood donation people. Inside was this very odd origami box thing that I blew up so it became rather ball like

3) I need to study blood transportation for Bio tomorrow.

So yes, very bloody indeed.

Okay, I feel quite frustrated now because someone (eh you know who you are!) told me the June SAT scores were coming out today! So after spending like 1% of the day thinking about the impending SAT results, I came online only to discover they come out on the 26th. In my best ah lian voice I will now say this to sum up the feeling in me now: DIAOOOO.

Well that and the knot on my chest which still refuses to untie itself even though I'm fully aware that the 26th is on Thursday.

Chalk up another victory for google adsense! In other news, my EE is due tomorrow and the Commons Tests begin tomorrow as well.

Here's to hoping we all survive the next 2 weeks! (and next 5 months...)

Tonight I have made the decision to finally come clean about my secret double life: I am a toilet inspector for the WTO (World Toilet Organisation, not World Trade Organisation you dummy!). If case some of you haven't noticed, I use the bathroom often. This is not actually because I have a small bladder, which is the excuse I give when I need to perform my duties. So tonight I shall give my wonderful readers an insight into my area of expertise: bathrooms.

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1st Bathroom: Tanah Merah MRT Station

The first thing I noticed when I enter the bathroom is that it is very small. Already, a queue of 2 women waiting to use the bathroom cubicles has formed. Another thing I notice about the bathroom is that the floor is wet - urgh. When it is finally my turn to enter a cubicle I notice there are only 3 cubicles available. This is unacceptable and must be reported to headquaters. Most surprisingly however, the cubicle contains toilet paper. The floor however, is disgusting. There is also a rather unpleasant smell in the air. Outside in the sink area, soap is available and there is no hand drier.

Rating: 2/5

2nd Bathroom: Bathroom outside Tutorial Rooms, level 2, IB Block

This is a bathroom I used to visit very often and inspect in Year 5 because I had class in one of the tutorial rooms. There are many cubicles here and all of them are stocked with toilet paper. The floor is alsop very clean, and there is a fan which helps keeps the area well ventilated. Once however, the soap that came out of the dispenser stank like unholy heaven. It even looked bad. FAIL. Overall however, this is one of the better bathrooms. It has a nice working hand drier.

Rating: 3.5/5

3rd Bathroom: Basement 1 of Esplanade Theatres on the Bay

This is a really nice looking bathroom. It is also sort of dark. There are many cubicles here, I have yet to see a queue even once even right before big ticket events like the Broken Social Scene concert and the Phantom of the Opera. The cubicles are also well stocked with tissue. Space wise however, the bathroom loses some points. The corridors are narrow with only 1 person able to walk at a time - even in the sink area. Soap however, is always present. As a bonus the bathroom is usually cold with air conditioning and the dispenser for tissues is also automated.

Rating: 4.5/5

4th Bathroom: Wah Chee

This is by far the worst bathroom I have been in so far this year. The floor is wet, there is only one cubicle, and there is no tissue or soap inside. There is also a smell. FAIL FAIL FAIL. Only thing it has going for it is that the toilet can be flushed.

Rating: 0.5/5

5th Bathroom: Starbucks in Holland Village

The bathroom is nicely lit by natural light and the walls are painted in nice earthy tones. Bonus points! The floor is also nice and dry and the toilet looks clean. There is nice smelling soap in the container and paper towels provided for drying hands. There is also no smell to be discerned. Not bad at all.

Rating: 3.5/5

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I hope this exercise has enlightened you on the inner workings of a WTO toilet inspector. Thank you and have a good night!

Today I have been visited by ghosts of the past again. One was a chance meeting with Zhi Wai in Rail Mall - where Kaijin, Arjun and I were studying in coffee bean with Karan. Two was when Oliver mentioned the first time we met, which was accompanied by another memory of the past that I had forgotten and which now brings a certain sadness to my heart.

Sometimes, when I think about the past, I feel traumatised.

In a way even though I survived and tried my best to come to terms and resolve this 'past' of mine, I don't think I've been very successful. If I still feel twinges of hurt and sadness, does it mean I have never fully recovered? Or is it natural to still look back on episodes of life and still feel an attached emotion, but more watered down than when it was fresh? I don't know. I've not quite lived long enough to learn that yet.

But the past is something we cannot change. Whether we can change the future however, depends on which school of thought one follows. Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five brought up something interesting about the concept of free will. In the book, an alien race captures the protagonist and one tells him that, "I've visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe... Only on Earth is there any talk of free will". Vonnegut's main intention of using fatalism as a main theme of his book have been said by many as a criticism of the concept - that we do have free will.

I personally believe that yes, we do have free will. We can't control the external factors that come and go which will ultimately affect our lives - but there is also much that we can control. There is the ability to weigh risks and gains in any decision we make, the ability to say 'stop!' when we are displeased or uncomfortable, or even the ability to see shit happening and do one's best to avoid it as much as possible. So yes, my past may be riddled with experiences that I cannot help but feel a certain sadness at recalling, but I believe that I can manipulate my destiny into a life that is worth fighting for!

(This is odd, why am I so optimistic?)

A consequence of using the old desktop computer again is that I have once more been reunited with my old 'My Recieved Files' folder. There I found some old bits of rubbish that people have sent to me over the years (well okay, emphasis on 2 people who sent me that sort of rubbish) - in addition to reminding me how much things have changed since 2005. Do I miss the old times? Yes, I do. I miss all the innocence, the feeling of the present which felt like no other. The feeling of being in love for the first time in my life, of a future that I thought I saw. Now 3 years later I can only look back with a wry smile for everything that has changed and been forever impossibly altered. But such is the unpredictability of life. So it goes.

On the upside, I have videos of other rubbish too. Ohohoho.

/end reminiscience (this stuff should be left for my still undone autobiography in one day)

(and yes, that is John Tay snoozing in the middle picture)

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I bought more books again yesterday! Even though my shopping was limited to Sunny Bookshop - I still managed to walk away with a title by a Japanese author.

Kazuo Ishiguro - The Remains of the Day

Erich Maria Remarque - Arch of Triumph (I am a sucker his books because of All's Quiet on the Western Front)

Zadie Smith - The Book of Other People (Cheryl was reading this during the 3rd Student Council Elections)

Jonathan Spence - Mao (LOL!)

Meanwhile, I have just finished Freakonomics. I really recommend it, even if you have no interest in Economics whatsoever (like me). It's highly accessible and enlightening while also managing to be entertaining.

I don't know why but for the past few days I've been feeling rather unbalanced physically - like I'm still on a boat that is rocking back and forth. I feel half like I am floating and half like I'm about to list over to one side and about to topple over and NO I have not been drinking by myself again. It is a most odd feeling which I do not quite like.

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Today while studying, I was listening to Daft Punk's Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger. It occured to me then that it was ultimate IB song. I quote:

"More Than Ever Hour After
Our Work Is Never Over"

I badly need to survive the next few weeks. Meep!

I have once more been visited by an odd displaced feeling again. This time it brings along many questions that I cannot help ask myself but cannot quite answer, like:

1) Why I keep avoidng every single MGS person I can faintly recognise from my level (+ the random girls in uniform I see around)
2) About myself - in relation to the concept of 'love'
3) About 'love' - in general
4) Why I find myself searching online stores everynight without fail
5) Why I have this huge compulsion to keep buying books - and then read them (5 in the last week! Enright, Katayama, Vonnegut, , Christie + almost half of Freakonomics)
6) Why I always mentally pair people in stories up (in And Then There Were None, I kept hoping Lombard and Claythrone would get together and not die in the end)
7) How I can be simultaneously rational to the point of being mechanical and robotic and irrational - then mix the two together to create a very terrifying scenario

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I have also been compiling a mental list in my head of things I want to achieve this year:

1) 41 points for IB
2) ER, gather enough confidence/self esteem to wear a bikini at the beach or equivalent
3) Get a proper wardrobe/style that suits me
4) Get around to finally buying + reading World Without End
5) Maintain my size 4 size (how the heck did I increase from size 0 to size 4 in one year?)

Oh dear, I just realised 3/5 of those aims are superficial. On the other hand, IB eats up all any vaguely intellectual brain power, so that is the main aim with the rest as mere appendices. Ho hum. I need a healthier sleep cycle.

The most absolutely wonderful thing has happened to a computer addicted person like me: Saoirse (my laptop) has died. Died as in really died - it won't boot up anymore.

Oddly enough I was feeling rather sanguine about the whole thing, but anxious enough to realise that if I think about it further I'll get horribly depressed and distressed. Oddly enough the last thing I ever did with her was to attempt to bug Karan on MSN, only to have him not reply. WHY WHY WHY ME OMG.

Okay I've started thinking about my laptop again and simulataneously have worked up the urge to go online shopping again. I had better stop.

K. I resolve to never drink enough to come near getting drunk anymore.

My floor feels funny, my clothes still need to be packed for tomorrow's trip and my head hurts mildly. Also, I do not like having to bathe twice.

Oh I do hate you SATs, and the bad feeling you have me, enough to go buy some dodgy drink and get surprised that I didn't get carded.

This morning I woke up at 6 o'clock because of the SATs. As a result I ended up feeling very weird again.

First came a sense of my mental processes being blocked - this was on the car ride there. Then next came a running internal commentary (which was rather rude) on everyone I saw at the centre, from complaining that I felt like sheep being pushed about to random criticisms of bad dress. Best of all was the people I saw cramming right before the SATs, they were criticised the most by early-morning-me.

Overall the SATs were okay I suppose. Only time can tell however what my 'okay' means, through truth be told I personally find the whole thing inconsequential because my personal aim is for a university across the Atlantic where everyone is a 'daft punk', so I don't really mind if I do that badly? I think.

The weird mood continued till after the SATs though. I called Cielo but she was with someone else and briefly considered calling Nic to ask for Zhe Xian's number but in the end decided to walk around myself. So feeling very detached from reality, I walked from Cuppage to Paragon with a blank look on my face while everyone around me was running to avoid the rain. I also bought a very delicious looking lemon cupcake.


When I went to use the bathroom in Paragon - a old man walked in. I stared at him blankly before someone shouted 'Uncle! Next door!' and then the man gave a very surprised 'こ゛めねさい!' before scurrying out. For some reason that made me feel even more blank and detached - like when I saw bus number 77 taking another route on Wednesday to avoid the jam caused by this accident at the T-junction of Sixth Ave and Holland Road.

I then wandered over to Ngee Ann City where I went to buy more shorts because I realised on Monday night that I couldn't fit into the ones I had when I was Sec 2. (It's horrible how in Sec 4 I could still wear my clothes from primary school - now 2 years later I can't even fit into my Sec 4 jeans anymore!) While browsing the racks, I still felt weird, so when I went to try clothes on I ate a banana inside the changing room. For some reason I felt better after knowing I just did something weird.

Then I went to buy books, because when I feel odd I usually end up buying books. I was debating whether to get The Unaccustomed Earth or Kafka on the Shore, or even buy a better version of Jude the Obscure so I would finally read the book - and somehow I ended up buying て゛んしゃ おとこ instead (and Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five after I kept thinking about it during the SATs after Johannes mentioned it on Thursday).

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On another note, last night I finished reading Socrates in Love by きょいち かたやま. I realised I ought to blog about the books I read, so at least in case I forget (and boy do I have a bad memory) what I read, I can easily refresh it.

So these are the books I have acquired recently:

Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse-Five
なかの ひとり - て゛んしゃ おとこ
J. R. Tolkien - The Lord of The Rings I (on loan from Arjun)
Anne Enright - Taking Pictures (finished it on Wednesday)
きょいち かたやま - Socrates in Love (finished last night)
Agatha Christie - And Then There Were None (this is my first Agatha Christie book! I have had a deprived childhood of Sweet Valley High, Fantastic Five, Horrible Histories and Sally Lockheart only)
よこ おか゛わ - The Diving Pool
たいち やまた゛- I Haven't Dreamed of Flying for a While

If you are wondering why I am spamming Japanese ひらか゛な, it is because for some reason the impact of 'use it or lose it' in reference to languages has just hit me. Nooooo. I must not forget basic Japanese.

Also: the overload of Japanese authors is because I've been going to きのくにや rather than say Page One because it's more convenient, and I figure I can get other English medium books elsewhere so I might as well get the specialty books! I think that makes sense.

Today I went cycling in Pulau Ubin with Louis and Arjun. The last time I cycled must have been around July last year, when Lauren was still visiting Singapore - we were at East Coast Park and it was drizzling a little. Then school work started increasing, shit started happening and before I knew it I was stuck in a cast for a month and given orders to not go cycling till my tendon healed.

So anyway finally, on the 3rd of June 2008, 7 months after my accident involving a glass door, I have gone cycling again :D

We met at Commonwealth MRT station at 8:00 am and traveled to Tampines MRT station together to take 29 to Changi Point Jetty in Changi Village. On the bus ride there however, we noticed that the sky appeared to be having some self esteem issues - in particular it was emoing over our patch of sky.

Upon arriving at Ubin and getting our bikes, it started to rain. We ended up cycling a few meters and ended up hiding in a small shop with tables out front - Arj and I bought drinks to justify our presence, and so we sat there waiting for the rain to end. At the shop, there was also this grey parrot which kept meowing and saying hello. I rawred at it (in the cat sort of way, not the lion way).

When the rain finally abated, we got on our bikes and cycled toward Chek Jawa (give or take Louis' bike chain coming off once). To my immense horror when we reached there, I found out that when the map meant the road there was a dirt path - it really meant a dirt path complete with uphill and downhill bits. Oh noes.

Somehow, I managed to survive the dirt path to Chek Jawa. I had to stop some bits and push the bike up, had trouble controlling the bike on an uneven path, and went racing downhill faster than desired (and this is like the 5th time I've ever been on a bike!) - but in the end I reached the Chek Jawa visitor centre without losing more than the usual amount of skin cells, thanks to the patience and help of Arj and Louis.

Then it started raining again. So we ended up hiding at the little museum they had there, watching planes land on the mainland and talking about nothing in particular. When the rain ended again, we went off to walk on the sea facing boardwalk. There was nothing to see on the boardwalk however, because it was high tide thanks to the rain, though we did see a monitor lizard. The mangrove boardwalk however was a different story. There we saw many mudskippers, little fish swimming in the calm waters and hornbills.

On the way back out of Chek Jawa, we took another dirt path out. This one was far more inclined both upwards and downwards, and I was rendered remarkably tired by the earlier path to Chek Jawa - so the inevitable happened almost 20m from the tarmac.

I was behind the two of them, struggling with my bike after going uphill, when upon going downhill the bike started to drift towards the foliage on the left hand side of the path. As I tried to regain control of the direction and turn it to the right, I inched closer to the foliage and earned a few scratches from the whipping leaves. Just as I thought I was okay, I saw a tree trunk appear right in front of my mildly out of control bike, so I quickly braked and swerved to the right. The sudden change in direction caused my bike to jerk to a sudden stop, and I flew off and landed on the dirt path after sliding down a little from the original impact point :s

Initially I tried to get up by myself, but then I felt too weak and tired for some reason and ended up having to be pulled up by someone. I sat there dazed for a short while as Louis took out wipes and stuff to clean the wounds I sustained on my two knees and right elbow. I remember feeling really disgusted looking at the (deeper) wound on my right knee because I could see through the epidermis to the dermis underneath where there was a pattern of little red dots forming. Brrrrr. I looked at my watch, it was 1:30 pm.

After resting a while, we cycled back to the main village for lunch. Then it was back to more cycling around 3 pm, and we ended up bumming about sitting on a bridge for quite a period of time talking again about nothing in particular. As we were heading back, it started to rain again. So thus ended our tenure on Pulau Ubin, and I left many many skin cells lighter.

We ended up taking 2 back, and alighting at Tanah Merah MRT station instead of the originally planned Eu Tong Sen Street - then took MRT to Queenstown MRT station where Arjun and I ended up waiting some time for 970 to come trundling around and poof! I was home.

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This is a really boring and badly written entry. I am hungry.

2nd June - Make a Collage Day (of at least 7 pictures)

Just now while walking back from the bus stop to my house, I saw a dead bird on the side of the road.


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If I were childish, I could say that the source of all human suffering is male gender.

But I'm not childish. I have to say something like 'the source of the human suffering is the opposite sex.'

But then again, I've lived too long and seen to many things to know that statement is nothing but a gross oversimplification. In truth, the source of all* human suffering is ourselves. It is our humane inability to do the things we know we should do, our inability to resist doing the things we know we should not do, and our inability to cease thinking of what should not be thought of. It's not that we can't do it - we can! If we couldn't do it, then well your suffering falls under another category. The worst suffering is the suffering you know you can prevent, but still don't do so anyway and live on with the consequences.

*things always sound better when you use 'all': I should think most readers here are astute enough to know what I mean.

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It is no secret that for the past few months, I have been suffering from intermittent depression. It comes quickly without warning, every week. In this time period, suffice to say I have been nothing but absorbed in myself, my feelings, my life, with trying to hold on to the shreds of sanity and soul that I had left. I had no time, no feeling, no ability to even remain much in the interpersonal sphere.

However now that my life has been stabilising, I have been slowly easing back into the lives that revolve around my life sphere - and I feel so overwhelmed.

A lot of things that I thought were okay, that were fine during my recovery period - are not. Perhaps it was because these people wanted to leave me be, give me the space I needed, I don't quite know. But now things do seem quite fucked up. Fucked up beyond belief. FUBAR.

One part of me says, now now please don't go all dramatic again, maybe things will be fine. Then the other part screams NO NO NO! I can see disaster happening, and it is this part which dominates my person. I am worried. The implications behind all of this makes my head spin. I feel my heart ache.

I really need to do some running today.