Sup3rnality

Thoughts. Thoughts are all I ever have. Thoughts are what that rule my life. Day in, day out. They never leave me. Even in my dreams, I have thoughts in my own dream. I think in my dream. They occupy the every stretch of time in a moment of my existence. Thoughts are what I'm made of.

I think of everything. The past. The present. The future. The never-will-bes. The maybes. The could-have-beens. The possibility of everything. Alternities and reality. They bleed together; rivers that would have never met if not for the sea. And my mind is the sea where everything converges and become a raging abyss that I would never fully fathom its depths.

It's all here in my head. A living entity that works even without my express permission. They fly by. They pop out at odd hours. They come at me full force. They drive me on. They drive me insane. They whisper softly. They carress tenderly. They spark full of inspiration. I cannot possibly pick one thought from the din.

I am what I think. And in turn, my thoughts are me. I exist because of them and they exist for me. My thinking helps siphon my every concentrated thoughts into digestable spoonfuls, keeping me sane. And yet, they make me insane at times.

They are bittersweet. I hate them. I love them. They make me weep. They make me weak. They remind me of good times. Prolonged dwellings break me. I need them. I need to break free. I need to run. I need them with me. I laugh. I cry. I smile. It makes my heart ache. And they are a thousand and one things more if I had the time to think.

To think.

As if I need more time. They are constantly in my head. All the time. With no regards at the moments passing by.

All I'll ever be will be my thoughts. What they think I should do. what they rationalize. The solutions they cook up. The words I say. The things I do. Everything. They'll never change. My thoughts are me, and I am them.

Love, Lin~

(Written on the 24th of June 2007)

As per usual, I ould try to justify my long absence. Although, there's not much of an explanation; so if you were gearing yourself for a paragraphs-long intro to why I have been missing from these pages, I'm sorry to have disappointed you.

I'm having my 3 week holiday. Or to be precise, my end-of-semester holiday. It's only 3 weeks long because I took the short semester, thus meaning that I have sacrificed almost 4 months of idleness in exchange for 2 months of academic goodness. I know, I know; I'm a dweeb, so sue me. So again, yeah, I'm having my holidays, which inadvertently means that I would be Net-less for the next said few. I'm complaining, but I'm not complaining.

It's always good to cut myself off abit from my regular consumption of Net exposure, for fear that it wolud mlet mreo nad mroe of my pierocus gery mtaetr........................ Oh wait, it hasn't happened yet. But it could. So that's why, as much as I miss it and want it, it's good to be not a slave to it. I can actually feel myself getting stupider because of my reliance on it. No offence to those who live off the Net, being an addict myself; but with me, I am actually beginning to neglect the things that I love so much: Books.

Hmmm....and looks like despite what I just said about talking about my absence in paragraphs; I've done it anyways. Well, anyway....

Things are of the good and of the not so much. And me, I'm five by five except if you count the fact that I have a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach thinking that I might have just failed my Tilawah 2 exam. I have a feeling I have failed, seeing how I totally messed up the tajwid bit; but at the same time, I also have a slight feeling of confidence that I might just pass it just enough. Oh well, won't know til next month... So I prescribe to myself to a good rest and the numbing of my mind to avoid unwanted contemplation that would take the fun out of holiday.

The holidays have so far consisted of me giving the house a little spring-cleaning (even if it is summer now, or constantly summer), lazily watching TV (I have not watched any TV long enough to be called 'watching' for 2 months), reading (like I said, being of the Net has left me all un-reader-y, so now I'm catching up), and playing the PS2 (Rule of Rose rules, baby). Not much, I know, but hey, geek here. Not much with the out-and-aboutness. Plain ole books and games keep me occupied enough without me complaning a single bit. Oh, but I have been lepaking here and there with my mom, shopping and stuff. And my dad had to leave for Japan for a few, so that contributes even more to my stay-at-home-liness. Couldn't sleep though with him not around. I stay up late at night armed with a very very heavy heavyduty flashlight, a hand-held alarm, my handphone, a Swiss Army blade and an aerosol can patrolling the house. I'm concerned about our safety, that's why.

As much as I love living in Kulim, Kedah; the place is not at all a safe place. Here I thought living in the city, with its rich people and full of people living in the fastlane would be the most dangerous place to live of all. I was wrong though. Turns out this little place called Kulim is scarier. With break-ins happening every night, and that's 4-6 cases everynight, mind you; everyone on the block is wondering just when they'll be next. There's a serial rapist whom they have not caught and is still on the loose. It's scary cos the perpetrator has been reported to not want anything else, not money or anything of materail value, he breaks in with the sole purpose to rape. With 3 females in my home (that's me, my mom and my 10 year old sister), one gets pretty scared. I'd do anything I could to protect my family, so I'd rather not sleep and stay vigilant.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE!

Oops, excuse me. My Potter-y is showing.

Be that as it may, Kulim is still a nice place to live. Given, not for too long, but nice all the same. It's a nice old small town in which you can live complacently in (provided that you shut your eyes and not listen to the stories of break ins and such). But me, I need a little drive. Yeah, living in KL can drive you insane even if you are not in the thick of it. Of course behind the mask of glamour, there's always vulnerability and ugliness. And we get it by the truckful. We take the beauty with it's ugly stepsister, it's a whole package and can't be sold separately. And that gives me drive to push a little harder, to go a little further, to do things a little different from the rest.

Yeah, so I've been scorned throughout my life for this same drive but I am still standing upright and that counts for something. Living quietly in Kulim would not challenge me enough and would only lull me into a false feeling of security. And for me, that is not the way to live.

Okay, so maybe the two things I just said kinda contradicts each other. But all I'm saying is that while I like the quiet life in Kulim because honestly, I'm a quiet person who shies away from the hustle and bustle and from the loud and the glaring. But at the same time, it's the loud and the glaring that gives me a purpose for my existence. So that as much as I want to be far from it, I also need it. Does that make any kind of sense? Well, it's not like most of the things I say does anyway. Most people already think I'm insane.

Anyway, I'll get through these nights. These long nights just awaiting the bright morning. Heh, and there's always the Nintendo DS to keep me company. Nite!

WWJossD?

~Lin

I guess my last entry, with its abruptness and disconcerting content, warrants somewhat of an explanation. Looking back on it, should I had been an outsider looking in, I must have appeared to be a despaired person who as ready to flush all I have known down the drain... But then again, at the time I wrote that, that wasn't so far from the truth.

I said that I wanted to take all the books of and about literature that I have a put a gun to it. And I would have, well, figuratively, that is; if not for the fact that my life is founded on the same system that I see literature.

I grew up loving to read. It wasn't just about immersing myself in the story, it was the words that were used to describe every detail and every emotion. It was about walking around in the shoes of another person and feeling everything he or she feels. It was about learning things I might not be able to experience for myself. It was about seeing places I would otherwise not see. Reading was my life and soul.

Reading of course, does not just involve you reading what is there in black and white. There is always more to it, just lying there in the blank spaces between each line. There is always more to read than just those words.

Having a piece of goor writing in your hands, be it a work in prose or done in a poem or through the art of drama; there is always the oppurtunity to gain more from it. There is always more than one angle to look at it.

For me, these angles can either be through the exploration of my psyche, or an analysis through the eyes of religion, or its relevance to history or time and place, or the writer's background, and many many more. Looking at them through these various angles always help shed more light on its meaning, thus creating more possibilities of interpretation.

It awes me how mere words can have an infinite number of meanings, depending on how you want to see it.

But then, enter this semester, where I am taking the subject 'Linguistic Approach to Literature'.
Now honest to God, I am not interested in Linguistics. It's funny cos I love the English language. How it is possible to bend the language to my will if I know the rules...and I do (well, a fair more than most), so that makes it all the more wonderful.

But learning Linguistics, from Phonetics to Syntax to semantics.... For me, as long as I know what I want to say, and how I want to say it; that's enough for me. I'm not interested in breaking down the sentences and drawing up it's Syntactic structure or transcribing the words according to the IPA symbols. All these things spoil the language for me. Having to look at language in such a technical manner takes away alot of its beauty for me, making it look as though some piece of complicated machinery.

Don't get me wrong, the beauty is of course, in its complexity; but I just can't seem to appreciate the make up.

Having to look at literature Linguistically have changed literature for me. Once I was content with searching for meanings through more abstract means. But now, I am forced to take apart works in a more technical manner and analyze them Linguistically; and it is driving up the wall.

And why is that? Why, now every time I find myself some piece of writing, I try to find Linguistic patterns in them and study its stylistics. And when I can't, I unconciously deem them uncreative; even if they actually are creative and I have oncee thought so.

It has ruined some pieces of lit for me. Some part of my mind feels as though it needs to perform linguistic analysis on everything. eventhough I know not all works are made that way. And yet, I do it anyway, and have now marred its impression in my mind.

Well, don't misunderstand me, I actually like the subject and it is mighty interesting. But I don't appreciate my ideas on literature being altered that way. Now all I can think about is whether anything I read at all has those Linguistic qualities. Sheesh.

Love, Lin~

That's it.

I'm taking a gun to all the books of literature I know as well as all the poems I've ever read and written and I'm shooting them all to Hell.

I watched Spiderman 3 on Saturday night. I know, probably everyone else has watched it, seeing how it's been out since the 1st; or maybe has already watched it more than once. Well, not that it matters but I thought you'd probably be rolling your eyes at this point thinking 'Yeah, so? I've watched it last week'. For me, there isn't that much of an urgency to watch it anyway. I'm not a fan of the movie nor am I a fan of Tobey Maguire. Again, you may be thinking 'So?'. I don't know... You know how sometimes you just don't really like an actor and cannot be bothered to see a movie he's in? We'll if you have that kind of actor in mind, that's how it is for me.

Anyway, more to the point of this whole train of thought; so I watched the movie. I went to see it with my aunt and uncle, who were the ones that were really interested in seeing the movie to begin with; I was just tagging along. So we sat through the movie. Apart from my fever and a ringing in my ear (probably from the loudness), I sat through the movie fine. I had some issues with it, but it was overall okaylah...(in Malaysian terms that would mean 'so-so'). So when we left the cinema and started driving back, I casually asked what they thought of the movie before I start projecting any of my criticisms. My uncle thought that it was rubbish. My aunt had nothing much to say besides saying that (spoiler alert) *a**y shouldn't have died. Well, at this point, I started saying my piece too.

Basically, what I thought of the movie was that it was all botched up like a bad case of 'kereta potong' (think Frankenstein meets salvages of many automobile accidents). Really. I mean, you get this 'kereta potong' out of many different parts and try putting it out for show. A person buys it, and he's cruising down the road; maybe he wants to test the speed on his new wheels and he accelarates abit and then, what do you know? Another mishmash.

Really, it could have been better. They shouldn't have tried to combine too may things into one movie. The character development was crap. There were too many loose ends. In a word, I'd say 'terabur' (all over the place). Throw away those scenes that totally interrupted the flow of the story. If there's one thing I remember from listening -repeatedly- to Joss Whedon's 'Serenity' commentary (yes, I'm Headgeek of Jossdom in Malaysia, so sue me) it is that some scenes just gotta go. It may be beautiful, it may be touching, it may make the audience curl up and die with emotion; but if disturbs the show's flow, it's just gotta go... Hence the so very little scenes of Inara in 'Serenity'.

Okay, okay, back to the point. so that's what I thought of the movie. And my uncle? Well, let me just give you a brief intro about my uncle before I begin. He grew up reading comics. You name it, Spiderman, Superman, Batman, The Flash...whatever else. He used to tell me about them. How he used to have the whole collection (damn, imagine how much they would cost now if he still had them?) because his father used to send them to him from the States. So he's a great comicbook heroes fan. All them Marvel comics used to be his forte. Stories about superheroes who fight evil, fighting the bad guys who were always so ugly we would hate them at first sight. The baddies are almost non-human, and we are never sorry to see them defeated or die. My uncle read all these comic books growing up and so that is what he wanted to see.

(Another spoiler alert!)

Instead, watching it, he was disapointed with how the villain apologized, how the villain turned good again and then died right after that, how the villain was so human that all he wanted was to make his daughter better etc... And my aunty mentioned that she hated that 'that' person died too. So this were the criticisms coming from my aunt and uncle. I can't critic them any, seeing how that is their opinion and that it is different from what they would have read in their younger days.

And that suddenly made me wonder, isn't it nice but painfully naive to still want that in a movie? I mean, don't get my wrong, my uncle and aunt both very much have the cynicism of some who has lived and seen the changing of the times (for the worse) since the last 50 something years. I assure you vehemently that they are anything but naive. And yet, that is what they look for in a movie. Black hats versus white hats, a happy ending... I'm guessing, they're still looking for a fairytale amidst all the world has to offer.

And me? I am almost 22. I may not have seen or experienced much but I know alot. Sometimes I think I am too old for my age. And yet, despite that, I am still naive. Of course, not the type of naive that makes me the kind of girl who'd simper and gasp at the talk of anything inappropriate or sit back and let things happen to me cos I am merely a girl and thus have to wait for a manly man to save me (much in the vein of simpering Buffy in 'Halloween'. Not that I object having some suave fella swooping in at the first sign of danger, mind, but I can hold my own as well if it comes to that). But I know that I am.

But then, what is it that I look for in movies that are meant for entertainent; movie shows that are parodies of our lives, a reprieve from the real world so we can forget for a little while? The answer is: I look for a semblance of life. I want things to be real. It may be a story of a superhero whom of course, is not at all possible; but that doesn't mean it cannot be based on life. I want to see that the hero is perfectly flawed like any other human, that the villains are not just villains but human beings who have reasons for what they do, that good people die bacause not everyone lives happily ever after. I want to see the villain's repentance, see that the hero doesn't always prevail and get the girl, I want to see a good person die doing what he believes in.

So what does that make me? On one side I have my aunt and uncle who are looking for a fairytale on the silver screen, perhaps to fall into a story that is non-sensical as a sedative to the real world. And I, on the other hand, look for more realism even when things happening around me are real enough to touch.

Does that make me jaded? Or does it just goes to show how much the generation has changed? How, as time goes by, we cannot hope to show our children Disney movies and make them believe it? Of course, in the end they would have to learn to accept the world, but the children; we would want to preserve their innocence for as long as possible; shield them from the brutality of the world, so we can watch them play carefree without them having age lines from so much worry. we would want them to have their childhood.

And there I go veering off into another vein.

And here I am back.

So is it just me? Or are we all doomed to weariness long before our time?

I hope it's just me. Because, well, awareness and being well informed is all well and good, but sometimes I wish we didn't have to grow up so fast.

"We grew up way too fast, now there's nothing to believe" -'Name' by the Goo Goo Dolls.

I miss the days when we would pretend that we were superheroes and I'd tie a towel around my neck to make a cape trail behind me so that I could be Supergirl. Or how I used to believe I was a Ninja Turtle and I had the whole outfit (Donatello by the way. Always liked the smart ones). I
miss the days when we believed in fairytales.

So, we see things differently. Fairytale versus Realism. Who would win? I am hoping neither; because to tell you the truth, I am a great fan of the grey area.

Oh, how Joss has addled my brain so.

Hmmm, I guess one thing is for certain, my uncle and aunt could never watch Buffy or Angel or Firefly/Serenity with me. Grr arrgh.

Love, Lin~

Grr Arrgh.

No better phrase can possibly hope to sum up the condition of my mind than those two words up there. Well, that is, if you can consider them to be words at all. They are better described as non-words that can either be a verb a noun and even an adjective. Ain't that neat?

I've been rather irritable for the past few, and I'm not altogether comfortable with that fact. That would usually mean several odd hours pondering on whether or not I've hurt anybody in the process; and that would be coupled with the feeling of guilt if I did.

Feeling this way would also bring about a short fuse, me mumbling and ranting to myself, piercing glares, a litany of curses under my breath, among other things. But I'm all chipper otherwise, just don't purposely put out your leg when I'm walking by, then we're five by five.

Heh, I don't really know what the cause for this sudden bout of irritation is. Honestly, everything is all fine and dandy in this space I call my own. Unless....well, that might just be it. But still, even then I hardly am irritable like I am now.

Ah, maybe it's just cos I'm tired. Although, I wasn't tired when I got all pissed about my work being rejected. I was well rested then, but I still felt like taking a flametorch and cindering all trace of paper. Recycling be damned. That would have been a mighty fine ironic end to that piece of rejected work; seeing how it was about pollution. And that is just the beginning of my irritation.

Thinking about it now, this feeling might have come from two little incidents which would have been considered a nothing to someone else's ears; but it was like sticking a hot poker into my ear and into my brain to me. Words like that is an insult to me and mine and it makes me feel less than I am. It is annoying indeed especially since it comes from the mouth of a person who does not know and only wants to believe what he/she believes, even if the evidence is sitting there glaringly.

Well, that solves it. I know where the annoyance came from. And here I was being absolutely sombre with no knowledge why and only now finding out the reason that was no more than 3 or 4 days ago... Oh well, I do always say that my mind is Dory-like at its worst.

Having that out of my mind, at last I can get myself a restful mind whilst I try to catch some Zs. Had a good old crack at my brain earlier to get myself to write a new narration for Fairuz's advert and my nap was rather fitful earlier; so it's best I close shop for the night.... Although, with my mind being somewhat overworked, that would probably lead to some very odd dreams tonight... I'd better gear myself for some reality testing. Maybe I'd achieve lucidity tonight, eh Alfred?

So, anyway, that's all for now. My mind's somewhat clearer now so I'm carpe diem-ing the time to do some things that does not need my irritable bias-ness. And by the way, just cos I figured this all out doesn't mean I'd be whistling a jaunty tune up and down the hallways. Bottom line is, don't rain on my parade, and my vice would pretty much be versa.

Love, Lin~

DISCLAIMER: I obviously do not own Mutant Academy. If I did, I would think that the Grr Arrgh Monster would sound a bit more feminine. NO copywright infringement is intended. "Grr Arrgh" remains to be that of the EVIL GENIUS, JOSS WHEDON.

Once before I would have been happy with anything I put on paper. The mere task of setting the thoughts in my head in concrete writing was a cause enough for relief. A paragraph would have sufficed, whether or not it was of any substance did not matter.

But after a while, I began thinking them very shallow. I felt rather ashamed of myself for not being able to think up something more substantial than just a few lines that left much to be desired.

Eversince thinking that, I've allowed myself to put in every emotion that I can possibly spare another person to read into writing. Of course, the more personal ones are kept close and private, although I think that the ones that I do let flow are already personal on many levels. I'd write in as much detail as I can muster, and I have to say I no longer have qualms doing so.

Thinking about it now, I realize that the reason why the posts I have posted way at the beginning of my blogging days were so short was because of fear. I've always held back my feelings, too afraid to let loose with the emotions for fear of being seen weak. Those entries were pretentious; too on-the-surface to carry muh weight (now how can it when it was floating above water? Heh...). I felt naked being scrutinized, even if no-one read what I had to say...but the fact is that it was a public domain, and anyone is free to come and go and read what they want.
But now that I have managed to get past all that, I write freely without having that fear at the back of my mind that people would actually see me. Now I can fully enjoy the freedom, no longer feeling that feeling I felt way about 4 years ago.

If then I felt afraid to be laid bare, now I don't mind it. I may still be secretive about my true emotions, I may still feign nonchalance even when I'm trembling inside, I may be placid even when I am spiralling whirpool; but I find solace in the words I let myself write.

I admit, in person, it is hard for me to convey all that I want said. I find it hard to show emotion and feeling when I am in view of other eyes. But in words, I find myself easily, it all comes naturally. I am able to let forth the things I feel that I would normally hold back, I can say things I wouldn't have said in your presence. In words , I can freely let the feelings take the form I want them to without worrying about being under one's critical eye. And even if you judge me as your eyes take in line after line, at least I am no there to see your expression, to see how you react.

From this online journal thing, I have found myself my medium of expression. Sure, that's what it is to everyone else who blogs, but for me, I have really found my medium of expression. If not, I'd be trapped in my lies of not showing how I truly feel. Of course, I do have my own personal journal that holds my more intimate thoughts, but it is here where I feel a sort of freedom for I am able to let say what I held back and feel like I have actually said it to the people I aim it to for this is not a private space where only I can see. So you see, I can tell myself I have let it all out to others because there'll probably be someone reading this.

And so, I write. I write as long winded as this and don't care. The thing is, I write so the public can read what I have pent up, but they are still mine. They belong to me, so it doesn't mean just because I say what I want to say, you can play around with my words and shove it back in my face as though they were yours. There are some specific people who do this alot to me and I have a fiery hatred towards this trait of theirs. I know we have the freedom of speech, but these are my personal thoughts and feelings; you can't come to me and be rude and act as though it is yours and you can do whatever you want with it. Go get your own. If you know who you are, good; now please shut up, you have no right to take what is mine. If you don't know who you are and think that ou might be one of these people, you probably are because you do it all the time. If you have doubts, you ask me..that is, if I even bother to answer.

Bottom line is this, I worry myself so much with writing things in the most possible detail I can muster, sometimes I find myself stuck. In my drive to have everything written down in the stylings of mine, I confine myself from writing freely, allowing myself to write if and only when I can write long and thorough; and this hinders me.

So, it is only in times like these that I find myself frantically tapping my fingers on my laptop, giving words to the things I have in my mind. On other days, I'd be worrying myself over my not-writing and trying to get myself to think of elaborate ways to put my thoughts in; otherwise, I would not even post a single line.... Which has left this journal quite bare.

Oh well.... Let's hope some part of my mind would start-up and get more things down. If there is one thing that frightens me, is the thought of not bing able to give voice to all of my thoughts.

Anyway. breaking away from that vein, I have to say that I was a little miffed yesterday. You see, an assignment I had last week required me to write a comment on a passage. And so I read it and commented and when I got the paper back, the lecturer wrote that my paper is unaceptable. Honestly, this is the first time ever I've gotten something like this and it rather made me feel so stupid and puny. I was gonna see her after class and ask her what I did wrong, but I was a bit too angry to risk talking to her. I'm not really angry at her, but more of angry because I'm not clear of what is unacceptable. I know, I know, I should have asked if that is why I was mad. But I was in too huffy to do so. Really, I would have understood if it was not up to her standards or if it was not entirely what she wanted. At least, in some way it was ok and there's just part of it that was not up to scratch; but this was the whole effing paper! Okay, okay, I'm cooling down. I know it happens, but I never thought it'd happen to an assigment that, in my opinion, 'kacang'.

So yeah, that is me with the writing bit. Yeah, I know I'm longwinded (I already know it, you don't have to tell me. Look after your own hem) and I could go on... But I'll stop here for now so I can catch some air and you can digest it all.... So, bye.

Love, Lin~