As they say, Rome wasn't built overnight.

I was reading some online articles a moment ago, just marvelling at how brilliantly some people can write, and I was in awe; in awe how some writers have the ability to literally make words come alive and it always blows me away (a trip to France I hope haha ok lame). As a writer myself, it is always jarring to see another person's work getting published instead of my own. You start to wonder if you are not funny enough, or your content is not good enough, or perhaps, you're just not good enough in this entire entity.

It's really such times that I shudder to think about what would happen after I complete this two-year  National Service stint in 120+ days. Don't get me wrong, of course I have a grand plan of going to university (I have already applied for school and will most probably get the placing I want) and then working in a renowned advertising/marketing firm and live the life I have always dreamed of. Well the questions are as follow: Who would hire a fresh grad like me?? What makes me x67899367092 better than the others?

I am a control freak and I know it. Every time I think about the uncertainties that my future brings; all the worries about my future surfacing like tiny air bubbles rising to the top of a carbonated drink with a soft fizzle, a tremendous part inside of me dies. I start to doubt myself and my capabilities; the fizzing in the Coke bottle never never ends.

Until perhaps, the drink turns stale.

I mean, yeah, it's great that I (try to) read and write a lot, I have a diploma to give me an edge over other people in the industry and for further study, plus I was brought up in this, as Singaporeans would call it, Jiak Kantung (which is "eat potatoes in dialect" and means English-speaking / can't speak Mandarin), environment and the friends I hang out with do have a good command of English AND Mandarin, I should have no qualms in saying that I am well-versed in the English Language.

So I guess I just have to constantly remind myself that I am stuck in this rat race and I would not quit because quitting is for losers and nothing worthwhile is easy. Perhaps I will always be the little boy outside peering into the shop's glass window, perhaps someday I will be a famous poet like C.S. Lewis or Sylvia Plath. I'll never know where the future goes and where my life will eventually takes me, but I know that it comes back to the theory of practicing for 1000 hours. The future is mine to craft for I am the master of my own destiny, and I have to make the best out of the present (CHEEEEEEEEEEEESY but it's true).

Lighthouse

So there’s this boy who must have some pathetic illusions about himself or he would not be able to go on living. Because people are just as happy as they make up their minds to be. Until, of course, reality smashes our faces in with a sledgehammer. 

When disappearances happen, pains go phantom, blood stops running and people.. people simply fade. There is so much more to say - but that has disappeared too. Let them come out as sighs: the world will soak it up.

Quit the talk, start the walk.

Oftentimes we see many people so good at grousing about their work, school projects, weather, finances; basically complaining about everything and how life is so awful. Yet we neither make changes nor do something to improve the situations. Alas, I wouldn't have the spunk to say this without a sheepish grin because I am guilty of it as well. It is an unshakable truth that we take so much in life for granted. We overlook the remarkable features that are ingrained within our daily lives. It is like when you wake up in the morning, you swing your legs out of bed and you put your feet on the ground and you stand up. You don't scoot to the edge of the bed and look down to make sure the floor is there. The floor is always there.

Until it is not.

Perpetual creates Eventual.

Lately, I have been hugely consumed by wanderlust (partly because my ORD date is well nigh; mainly because I have been so enthralled by all the Groupon travel deals I see on my phone HAHA). So many times, I have dreamt of going home, jump on my bed, turn on my MacBook and purchase a one way ticket to NYC:

I would pack my most valuable possessions (because I know I can't take them all with me), say good bye to my family and friends, and hop on a plane and land in the most amazing city I’ve ever visited. I would stay with my friends for a couple weeks until I find an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s small, but whatever, it’s New York. I start out working nights as a bartender, it’s what I know best before I am offered a shoe in with a small advertising company as an assistant.

I come home from work, change, and go straight back to work as a bartender at night. I need to pay the bills somehow. When I return, late at night, I sip on a mug of tea, curl up on my mattress on the floor of my small service apartment, look out the window at the dim lit streets and think to myself, “This is worth it."

Sigh but I digress. All I can do now is to endure the painful few weeks left with the organisation and avoid hurling on the entire testosterone parade, too much. 

There's something terrible about Reality.

Yesterday I had yoghurt with Sylvia Plath. We didn't do much we just stared at each other but it was as if I was reading her mind. Or maybe I wasn't. I just pretended that I was.

At night I had some sugar with the Angelina Jolie and a close friend that knows my secrets. We drank not too little and danced our pants off to innocence. It was annoying how my hat kept falling off while I offered strawberries which I took out of the bag that both the Abu Dhabi kid and I have. Slowly towards the dawn of the new day, the Abu Dhabi kid brought mr incredible along with a pretty namesake and we proceeded on with Mcdonald's breakfast. I wanted to know why my song wasn't playing that night. And then everything was a buzz and no one remembers what is there to do. There is much ado about nothing, but something may be everything.

Here I am typing out my whimsical life of this and that, the high and the low, the poor J who is so cute and I am sorry for no absolute reason. That I am in very much control of my alcohol tolerance. In such that I am full of poison, but I shouldn't be blamed since I am rather magnificent. Or fine it was all under the influence of alcohol I swear.

Today we woke up at 2 because Peter Parker called, if not, we'll probably still be asleep.