Summary of a day

In the clammy cold desolateness of the examination hall, or what would we come to know as the MPSH-B, a girl met despair in its first and purest form in the face of BSP1005x. (way to go for being melodramatic) subconscious fumble of fingers, teeth gnaws into abysmal fraying cuticle-scarred nails and streaks of blood splattered on blank white like a subversive Dadaist piece, (“magnifeco,’ stunning” ! if only the context was right they say). she has never known fear (or so she says); fear in its unadulterated state; a hail in the middle of a snowstorm; a death-walker without face, the nameless voice of a whispering ghost. a series of unfortunate events they say (ya, you had to bring only one calculator that officially died on you two minutes before the paper, way to go!) (but thank god, you have skin as thick as hide so yes borrowing from people with >1 calculator is a great idea) (and ya, so what if the paper was monstrous. it has slain many heads and you are just one in a thousand)

Dejected, the girl cowers back into her original state of emotional undress. the mysterious provost booms in its thunderous affecting voice “there is always the holy grail in the form of S/U.”

(did you just forgot there exist another lecture in another of your module ?) So off she goes to the gentle night, where she proceeds to read her korea’s history notes into the wee midnight on students activists dancing their masked dance along the university campuses paving its concrete grey-washed roads into the line of ROK dressed in their immaculate military suits waiting and into the lands of north korea (unification - what a mouthful, a bitter dream and still a drawn journey). she wonders what it feels like to be a north korean holding on to a cold/warm (you do not know for the inconsistency of fast food joints astounds and marvels you) hamburger from samtaesong for its virgin time? to bite into the 1+ euro “minced meat with bun” and to taste the ironic flavours of democracy in the form of an american symbol but to not know its common name. they chirp, “in korean, we have no words for (hamburger) minced meat with bun.” off she goes, in her head that is, for the girl thinks what an adventure it would be to buy a ticket from beijing to pyongyang. in time to come but for now, some lives are just more fortunate than others (as evidenced by a cat)

Hello Pedro

Life with Pedro, the fatty. 

SEM 2. Stop dreaming and start living

 

P.S Scanner is shitty, I couldn't get the prints of Van Gogh's art in its full brillance. Remind me to get a new one soon

"Now, if you can forgive someone for immersing himself in pictures, perhaps you will also grant that the love of books is as sacred as that of Rembrandt, indeed, I believe that the two complement each other....And I think that Kent, a character in Shakespeare's King Lear, is as noble and distinguished a man as that figure by Th. de Keyser though Kent and King Lear are reputed to have lived much earlier.  Let me stop there, but my God, how beautiful Shakespeare is, who else is as mysterious as he is; his language and method are like a brush trembling with excitement and ecstasy. But one must learn to read, just as one must learn to see and learn to live."

— Vincent Van Gogh

I have been meaning to practice my drawing and writing and trying to follow a drawing regime that accompanies my university schedule - on Week 1 now.  But say, it is starting to turn into a massive flop even before it has begun. I ought to discipline myself - this is bad, I have no discipline. I mean yes, I really not like local university because there is a grand emphasis on grades instead of learning (I do like learning); it is chipping and eating away my time for everything else but my abysmal CAP is demanding and shouting for me to save it from the watery depths of hell. Metaphorical hyperbola but frankly speaking my CAP is really bad, not like MY_CAP_ISSH_BAD 3.9 kind of bad, and if I don't do anything and let it deteriorate, I might get expelled or something 

Okay, discipline discipline and anyway I was reading Sylvia Plath's Journals (okay, I actually read it long ago but I occasionally re-read her entries) (On another note for myself, refer to Back to School Commandments when in doubt, depressed or stressed) and Vincent Van Gogh's Letters*. I am still in awe and admiration at their tenacity and diligence when it comes to the craft and passion they have pursued. I want to be as determined and disciplined as them. Draw, draw, draw and write, write and write.

1. FIGURE DRAWING STUDIES - omg should get back on learning perspective and figure drawing. "Drawing is the foundation for all art." "Drawing is the foundation for all art." "Drawing is the foundation for all art." "Drawing is the foundation for all art."
2. Patience, patience and patience. Look at my owl drawing, my impatience has kind of made me screwed it up. With art, writing, football and life. I am too impatient. 
3. I have been meaning to write about Vincent Van Gogh. I confess, I have been reading art books about him, his letters and biographies on him and he is an amazing and fascinating man. Sometimes, I get carried away with reading author's and artist's celebrities, or maybe I just have a thing for sensitive souls (Lookie at the pattern of suicidal, depressed people)
4. "It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.” - Van Gogh

Restless night

I adopted a new cat yesterday. 

He was afraid; fearful of novelty. 

And in the expansiveness of the pitch dark, our eyes met. 

He crawled onto my bed. He kept his distance. The neighbourhood cats growled. Zeus, unforgiving, split and shattered a whole into two. Cracking, lashing rain.

He was afraid.

We were strangers demarcated by our unfamiliarity. I could not embrace and snuggle him in my arms. The absence of shared, past memories (our unfamiliarity) had deferred our moment of fear. 

I wanted to reach out and tell him it was okay to be afraid of unfamiliarity. Because most shapes of love grew from unfamiliarity. 

But I could not.

And the gaps hang. in between.
and the night grew.

ETA: 20/11/2012
distance is an abstraction.
because

love and familiarity blossoms with time.