I want to remember something that Weeming told me almost one year ago. A very important message.
"I can see you want to achieve something big, but you're
not doing enough to achieve your goals - rather you're not doing anything."
Most of the time I've always regarded myself as being victimised, eternally getting the short end of the stick, and getting tossed into a vicious cycle of low self-esteem and prevented salvaging of my potential. I think it's time to start with the small things and eventually something will succeed along the way.
So, yesterday. I was tearing myself apart thinking that "holy crap I'm gonna be shit late for dinner, or maybe I won't get to book out at all! How how how how" and silly CPT Johnny still manages to aggravate the situation with "Why you cannot book out? Because I say so!" KNNBCCB.
Little did I know I'd end up giving the bugger a ride to town as we finally booked out. (Thank God we postponed dinner to today!) Well, he's not that bad as a person lah... at least he shares my disdain for NSF Police and certain bloody rich-ass SLK-toting Mindef/CMPB clerks (ARRGGHHH).
Wendy's wedding was today. Just another sign of the end of an era, and a permanent reminder that Seven is over and done with. Sigh. It was good to see the familiar faces again, but having to avoid explaining a 5 month absence in the span of 1 minute is getting on my nerves.
After chewing woefully on my meatballs, we went to meet Maria. Ah, the legendary Maria that Daryl told me about so long ago once upon a guard duty ago. (I really miss the SI days. I feel sorry for William who's been posted to Brunei...) She's really cute! Not in the "OMG what a cute babe" kind of cute. Just... cute, I dunno.
After rolling around in Heeren for a bit, I'm back home to rest before... before... urgh. Terrible night. Why? Curses to ChinaBlack, Attica and Liquid Room.
My ops orders to Ah Fatt - reach Chinablack locality by 2330h. He got there at 0030h. I should've have slain him on the spot.
So the entourage is here, I've been queueing for one hour, and there is still a veritable snake of a queue to plow through before we can get into what must be a jam-packed flesh bazaar. Useless. We decide to cab down to Attica to try our luck, since the birthday girl who held back the lot of them knows the DJ there and will get us instant entry.
Attica: 25 only please. I'm 6 years too young for these old bastards. Well, whatever. We walk to Liquid Room, and with a little bag-squeezing-into-locker drama we get into the place. Which is also packed like shit, I'm sorry to say.
I didn't have fun. Why? Okay, here's where I confess that I
can't dance. If a girl were suddenly to pull me over and motion for me to dance with her, I would be stunned, I would be completely at a loss on what to do. Only thing we stupid guys ever learnt was, just shake yourself around! -_-
The difference between guys and girls seems to be that girls don't need alcohol to dance without prohibitions. And me, I think I need a minimum of 7 neat shots of tequila/vodka before I can really let loose. The worst thing is, I don't turn red when I'm drunk - I turn WHITE. Gross, huh. Something must be up with my liver.
I guess it's really the company that matters. This time just didn't cut it.
Maybe I should watch You've Got Mail.
The first part of yesterday at Ikea felt like I was behind the TV screen, like I was watching some really corny Channel 8 drama as the kakis of the Enlistees' Mess are wont to do every fucking night. From far I spotted two very familiar people who I mistook for Mediacorp celebrities (but as luck would have it I was such a cock that I clean forgot they were actually from Charis). Probably the bigger catch was spotting Lionel and his girlfriend! I feel sad that he doesn't recognise me, but hey, it's been 1.5 years since ChinaBlack with him, Debbie and myself, hasn't it?
Of course, the drama proper was unfolding right in front of me. She
invited me out for tea after I spent the better part of our MSN conversation lamenting about the same old no-friends shit. I would be a fool to say no, right?
Right. When I think of my sensibility,
it's like looking into a backed-up toilet.I have no idea what possessed her to divulge all the lovely details of her last relationship with T. Is it an attempt at explaining a long 5 month silence between us friends? (The phrase "almost-lovers" begs to escape my lips but I shall not speak such filth.) Is it simply catharsis and empathy? Man knows not these things. Nevertheless, a lot of very good points were shared regarding the honesty and comfort between us.
T knows of my existence, T wished that my existence begone from her life. And here I was just thinking, when do I get my Xbox games back?! I feel cheated, I feel outraged that he should have just gallavanted away with her heart when no more than 2 months before, she told me she wasn't up to another tumultous relationship. (But at least it's over.)
Honestly, I still don't completely understand why she tells me, no, not now. My dear friend, you and I, we're the dolts who have to say, "we've waited 3 years now, how long more do we gotta hold on?" Okay, I still understand the bit where people love to complain about a girl who gets together with a rich fucker. No issue there. I also understand when people are afraid of rich fuckers who popularise themselves in every goddamn social circle and are probably sleeping with every father-mother's son (it would be more appropriate to say father mother's daughter but that just ain't the phrase).
But, the latter. LOOK AT ME. The number of genuine friends left here for me, I can count with slightly over a hand. I sure ain't popular, though I wanted to be otherwise. I TRIED, oh I tried to change myself and ask people to help me turn into a loose bastard fucker, but clearly Ben wasn't the scoundrel he
appeared to be (LOL!). End of the day, I'm a geek who likes to sit at home, play games and watch DVDs and anime. You can take me to the heart of clubs and smoke, but aside from being dead drunk I don't get much of a rise from that shit. If you can get along with me, I really don't see my active character being the issue, in fact I was much purer last year.
I guess that now, it's too late. I shot myself in the foot by guaranteeing my place of study in Boston. Back then, I thought I had nothing to turn back for, definitely nothing worth staying for. Who would want a relationship with a guaranteed expiry date (assuming that it would not advance into an LDR)?
Furthermore, I've changed, and I think she knows it if she can read me as well as she claims. In this dreary place my heart has long grown cold and disbelieving in the goodness of those of us left in Singapore. I forgot to relate to her what happened at the batch reunion but she probably understands already.
Worst of all, I perfectly imagine myself doing everything that T did. Am I so carefree that I would not be the least bit bothered if she went out with other guys, rich, charming or whatever? It may be possible that I've spent the years training myself against this - after all if I was that bothered, I should be killing every guy in salsa class - but that paranoia is something that reflects parallels with my own personality, and unless I have successfully killed off that paranoia without knowing it...
Le sigh. I'm being altruistic again. Never stopping to think of myself. I really think I'm more in love with the
idea of falling in love than love itself.
In a week's worth of MC:
Wisdom tooth operation. The cacophony of drills and sawing to Symphony 92.4. Brilliant!
AMC has lost my medical docket. Congratulations! I ORD tomorrow! :D
The Borders queue for Neil Gaiman was just too fucking long. Thank God Geraldine was there.
