T Minus 5D.
5 days left to the assessment perhaps I'm blessed withe the propspect of additional time but there still is that overwhelming stench of fear that pulsates through this room like a beacon.
I collapsed in bed today, collapsed and fell through the sheets into a dark, morbid dream. It was a thriller/horror movie which Dad apparently complains is from the kind of music I listen to. How can that be when my playlist the entire morning has been nothing but Album Leaf's Into The Blue Again, Postal Service's Give Up & Panic! At The Disco? I don't know.
I saw Mischa in the dream, as Subra, Leslie & myself were sitting at the docks, tieing our boots for soccer and warming up. Soon, everybody starts walking toward the ferry. I turn around to bid Vans and Jessica farewell and goodluck as we apparently were on some project mission that we had to collect all kinds of stuff for clues. I see Mischa with her slightly amused yet I couldn't be sure. Why would she be in the least of happy's to be seeing her old chum aye? I swing and slam a gym push up bar to the floor, the least of my expectations. And I run to my ferry that brings me to the soccer game and then run back to see the other ferry departing. I chase the ferry back and forth, indecisive at whatever decision I was gonna make. I make it in time for Vans' carriage. I told her what I saw and she said "Yes. I know, I know. It's just Mischa what, relax lah." Jessica then pipes in with her draggy voice in childish chider "Yah, it's Misscchhhhhaaaa" Vans then chips in with "Besides she was with Naomi & Campbell what".
Now that's the confusing part. The one Naomi that I actually know in flesh and not over pseudo internet profiles is Agnes' Naomi. Which I do not talk to at all, I caught a glimpse of a short haired and tanned girl standing in the carriage that Mischa was supposedly in. You wouldn't believe me but my dreams have a fade in effect. An image of a guy, some tall, skinny wanker in an unbuttoned shirt & white tee inside faded in. I swear to God on my very life.
Then I run back to the ferry, this time it's full of traps, weird traps intended for you to fall down flat on your face. I cannot explain unarmed combat here but it just works something like that. I scurry through trap after trap, leap over leap. but as I approach the ferry gate. A wolf/dog appears. I'm not sure if this is actually the nine tailed fox thing but it sure as hell resembled. The colour, the teeth, the streaks but the only part I cannot assure you of my precarious mythological situation is the tails. Anyway, I get bitten and chased.
And just like every typical thriller/horror, there has to be a huge jump scene. Where the lead leaps across from dock to moving boat kinda? Yes, that kind. I do the same and that's where I woke up in jolting fear.
I got so freaked out I had to hear the first soothing voice in my head. I couldn't call Australia so I called Ally. I blurted out questions on her assessment but I really just needed someone there to ferry me back to reality. It's a strange habit that I've always had. Either that or I'll talk myself out of the dream. Thank you Ally, you still are a gem you know that.
Jesus, now after that escapade of river jumping, heart wrenching thriller/horror. I'm back to drawing the mosque I started on earlier.
Caution To Priority.
Hawhaw, I got drunk today with just about 10 days to my assessment.
With 2D Final, 3D Final, Internal Final, Internal & External Drawings undone, 2D Exercises, External Test Collages, 3D Test Pieces, Internal Test Collages, Research undone.
Motherfucking genius.
I think I need another ladder, Sir.
I have to run, run further than I have ever gone. I have to escape this separate dimension once again.
I'm lost and clinging unto dear life with a threaded rope that has burnt itself out too thin from my frequent tugging at it's frail compromise. The irony of it all sends raging anticipation down the narrow flow of thoughts.
I need to make it, I need to take myself a little higher.
The Horror, the horror.
This constant routine of staying up till 7am and then heading to school is taking it's toll on me and within the flutter of a moth wing, the weekends are here but there is no real break. The assessment date approaches with lingering caution and all that has lingered from earlier this week has been prolonged procrastination, haunting my footsteps.
I am afraid, I am very very afraid. The competition is alluringly beautiful, they are all so hardworking, self-esteemed and glorified members of the student faculty. Would it be oh too much as to be able to impose a slight threat on their honorary gold plates?
I shall leave now, at 6 in the morning for bed. Only to arise again, later in the day to head back to school for another dreary moment enclasped in the vice like grip of my ambitions.
And stop stealing my fucking song titles, you lazy bunch of indignant scum.
It is not the rising that I fear, it is the loss of myself. It is the manipulation of my original self that has be accomplished through means of influence. I am the First of I as I am the Last of I, my ideals have left me shaking with the horror of discovery.
"I love the smell of napalm in the morning"(Kilgore) -from Apocalypse Now(1979), directed by Francis Ford Coppola
Iconic Abjection.
I watched Donnie Darko by Richard Kelly this morning. It's a brilliant screenplay for an awesome script. I found myself delving deeper into Donnie's dark character. How painfully similar I found myself to him. Oh well, I shan't go on. Let's just say it was a good catch, everybody should watch it. It's available online if you look for it.
I found myself then downloading Tears For Fears' Greatest Hits. My god, what have I been missing! I knew they had 'Shout' to their name but their other tracks in their Greatest Hits are just miraculously refereshing in a world where music is all about love and depressive thoughts. They preached post apocalyptic circumstance in a voice that sparkled bravery. Just read their lyrics! Especially for 'Mad World'.
The fabric is only but a temporary element, the flesh is the manipulated temporary. When the flesh rots, the bones will degrade. We will all be forgotten once our memories have died off, we will be chances in a equation of human interpretation.
'Every creature on earth dies alone' -Grandma Sparrow to Donnie Darko in a whispering tone.
Self-Infliction.
I'm listening to Ryuichi Sakamoto and Alva Noto's collaboration on Insen as I type this much longed after entry out. Not that, I have a thesis of findings to type out but rather the notion of blogging and checking in with myself was very much in my thoughts as I passed menial day to the next.
I'm in some sort of paralysis. I haven't moved about in awhile, it's tragic how something like this happens to someone of my age they say. I on the other, cannot be bothered. I don't believe it was my fault, curiosity killed the cat but the cat didn't die this time round. I must be lucky or extremely stupid to still be alive. Caution flares radiate all around my eyes everytime I find myself flirting once again with depressive thoughts that bring forth fatal repercussions.
To say I've accepted this final outcome is a bold statement. I know my physical strength and I know how my mind can take much more than the average Joe, pun intended. I'm gonna dig in the ground and shove my deadened heap forward and I'm never gonna look back.
I have a little time left before it is time for me to doze off into tranquil sleep again. There were many things I intended to say but I guess the things that I have to say will always remain unspoken.
It's difficult, to look back and know I never saw myself coming down this way.
I watched Army Daze on Youtube earlier, I remember watching it when I was younger. I remembered the old red Mazda that Dad used to drive. The Mazda that got broken into and I lost my very cool toy. I remembered the fights Mom and Dad used to have, Joshua & Jeremiah from Maris Stella, prayer meetings at Tosca Street, playing Mr Alligator with the cousins, getting my chin bashed in, playing soccer with Dad, St's Peter & Paul Altar Servers, playing basketball with the Ubi kids, Venga and the whole Indian gang fiasco, my first cigarette, my first drink, Gillian Ann Tan Pei Ying, my first fist fight, my first police case, my first kiss, Malvina, confirmation camp, Princess Gaby, St Hilda's Secondary School Volleyball Team, Wei Rong, Chek Meng, Javier, Jonathan Ling, Mr Chiang, TCP, shooting up, my first job, dumb korean bitch, Sitting In Pictures, Clearedge Productions, all my odd jobs, LaSalle admission, the day I got into LaSalle, my first assessment.
And I wish, I could turn all of that back. I wish I could be reborn, I wish I didn't have this life that I rightfully own right now. I wish I was better, this wasn't the life I saw myself having. This wasn't the me I saw at 11. This wasn't who I wanted to become.
Where have I gone? What have I become?
Where is my tranquil neverland?
