Hello people.

It's been a long, long time since I last posted something. I'm not really sure why, but it seems as if the mundane life I'm living right now gives no motivation to write. Everything becomes so routine; waking up, going to work, going back home, playing games, sleep. Rinse and repeat and you'll have what most working adults do. I'm afraid I have to admit being routine is killing me.

When one suffers from jet lag, breaks up with a loved one, or experiences something that jars one out of one's usual life, going back to routine is probably a good way to adjust one's emotional well-being. However, the creativity in me is being stifled. Perhaps by age, perhaps by the lack of exercise. A rusty edge can't cut cheese. (I like that saying!)

I still remembered writing really beautifully and stylishly last time. It was a time of passion and adventure for me, for the pen and paper provided me with an outlet in which I could rant about the little things in life. Little by little, however, I stopped to care, and for stopping to care, I fail to feel. They say cynicism is like a slow toxin; eating you slowly from the inside, insidious and lethal.

Maybe my life is so boring nowadays, I don't have anything to rant about! One can't rant if nothing happens. I need to break out of this routine. Even outings have been rather lackluster. Going through the motion of meeting some group of people, doing the same thing - even jamming sometimes is not really fun anymore. (Not that I'm complaining. I'm actually glad Six Harmonix is finally heading in the correct direction.)

Anyway, I'm going to attempt a little snippet of work later. Let's see if I can get back to writing ways.

I've got a feeling that somehow - despite being only 19 - I've reached mid-age crisis already. The signs are all there: Questioning one's worth and direction in life, identity loss, not sure how to live more 'wholly'. You just got this "I'm not going to give a shit about anything" feeling. Of course, if one lives life haphazardly, then one can only expect to face the music later in life.

To some extent, I believe I've already suffered the consequences of being too happy-go-lucky and slack. Regrets are powerful. They can make your life grind to a halt. They can also drop you into a vicious cycle. Slippery slope. Never-ending questioning and hoping for dreams that won't come true. Regret's partner-in-crime? Procrastination.

So, in order to defeat Procrastination, I'm going to start writing now. (And hopefully, end before 2.30am, so I can wake up in time for tomorrow's football.)

---

The little fox caught a little glimpse of a shiny object and immediately, her curiosity is aroused. Interestingly, foxes - especially juvenile ones - have this profound, yet unexplained, fascination with shiny objects. They would pat them, play with them and keep them in their dark, damp dens. The little fox stealthily stalked her prey - a human child who is probably only six - and in one single pounce, stole the shiny object away and ran off into the thickets, leaving behind a crying infant and furious humans carrying rakes and poles.

Satisfied with a day's takings, she purred and pawed at the shiny object. Her loot was a silver antique key that has probably been around for ages. Yet, it remained impeccably shiny and rust-free. She held the key in one paw and pondered, "What does this key open?" Her curiosity is only fueled by her endless imagination. Despite living in a forest next to a tiny village, she has dreamt of sprinting across vistas of green, paddling in crystal-green waters and sleeping under starry, violet skies with the moon for company. Yet, her imagination is restricted by limited information; she has no clue at all about the origin of the key. Her spirits dampened a little, but she is determined to find out more - her foxy instincts tell her that she could soon be on an adventure.

And so, the little fox went forth to consult Greendolf, one of the most venerable and knowledgeable Wood-ent in the forest.

---

This could go somewhere. For now, I shall sleep. My craving to write and create has been sated.


||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [11:27 PM]*

2:04am.

"Well, I should be well in bed by now. Otherwise I'll wake up and go to work (army) a zombie."

I've thought of that like an infinite times. Result? I always wake up like a zombie. Having a crappy job doesn't alleviate the unhappiness as well. But before I go off tangent and start my army rant, I'd like to share my thoughts on books for tonight. (Or morning, if you're OCD like that.)

I was in the shower and suddenly, I felt like something lit up in my head. Y'know, one of those epiphanous, life-changing, split-second moments in the toilet. I just had to write something about Zeus's nine beautiful daughters: The Muses! As a designer, (writer, poet, author, musician - although self-proclaimed) I always felt that trying to come up with an idea or solution is akin to trying to flirt with 'em pretty ladies - all nine at the same time.

Imagine the commotion your girlfriend would make if you were caught two-timing; we're talking about nine-timing over here!

Yes, it is that tough. Sometimes, they refuse to talk to you, other times, they coquettishly flirt with you. And some of the rare few precious moments you just get laid. Rather poor analogy, I'll admit, but that's the closest to what I can describe to you in a fantastical and poetic sense.

By now, you guys will have known that I've suddenly metamorphosed into an avid reader. I guess you can call it opportunity of restrains, that is, I have nothing else to do, so why not read?

And due to the nature of my future prospects, I realise I have to interact with those lovely Muses all the time. Thus, being the resourceful me, I went to search for some idea-creation-thingy book.

And lo and behold! Ideation - and all the things about Muses and thinking about thinking and your proverbial box and and all - means really different things to different people.

The Riddle by Andrew Razeghi happens to be a solid, no-nonsense book. It aims to guide you to effective ideation through logical thoughts and repeated training. In short, the author wants to remove away the random factor of Aha! moments.

Now, The Nine Modern Day Muses (And A Bodyguard) by Jill Baldwin Badonsky happens to be quite a different book altogether. The author personifies the Muses and instead of guidelines that are logical, ideas backed by facts and all, it's more of a feel-good book. It's more about spirituality. There's all this stuff about Faith and be good and all.

By now, one might think: Females tend to gravitate towards the 'feel-good' stuff while males like to make logic out of things. (Of course, stereotypes.) But as usual, me being me, I like to take the middle stand.

It's always good to have a bit of both; the best of both worlds. I believe that whatever works for you in ideation, works best. That is, different people have different methods and must be in different conditions for creative work. Take Me a couple of years ago for example; I kinda love the melancholy feel of rain, moodiness and a little tipple of wine. Makes me think and write well.

Perhaps, things have changed and what not, and I've been hit with setbacks and stuff, but overall, as of now, I feel good about my creative writing. Like BAM! you get lucky with nine lovely ladies.

(Perhaps, that's why they call it 9gag.)

Hah!

Anyway, my hair's dry now, so I'll go to sleep. Really, just a filler post, incoherent thoughts and all. I wonder if anyone at all is still reading my blog though, it's like SO OLD ALREADY.

If you do, HOLLER AT THE TAG BOARD! I know it's infested with bots, but I do check every single message every time I get on. This gives me motivation to write better.

So, good night for now!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [2:04 AM]*

Lo and behold, yet another year gone by.
Are we dying by the minute or are we living to die?
Slowly ticking away on the faceless time,
Who, one wonders, does the Grim Reaper not bind?

The tinkle of ice, the wine swirls and sighs,
Of a tender face's reminiscence, those days of low and high.
A night time's secret rendezvous with the Priestess of the Night;
she who captures me soul, let my wings take flight.

Herald the new year with new friends and acquaintances,
For love is short and your life long and full of twist and turns.
Woe be to he who seeks fame and fortune, thine soul lost to the vices.
The scrupulous man, ridiculed by society, shall one day rise.

There are many values that I hold dear,
And by these I live, not with a single hint of fear.
For 'tis a new year, and one must advance, step ahead.
Reach out, experience and alas, I must try to get out of my bed.

--

Just a short poem as I drink from my little wine glass, contemplating about the new year. It's actually just another day, really. I really love the way the ice goes 'clink' when I swirl it round and round. Just an elegant sight to behold, once the Muse takes control, my writing starts to flow. Hahaa!

I figured somethings out. It's funny how aha! moments don't appear when you desperately try to find them. But one must be separated from mundane distractions. When I stop doing routine stuff, gaming and really, everyday stuff, I start to feel a bit more motivated. I don't wanna jinx it, but it's as if the Muse is teasing me. Now, I slowly start to get the feeling of writing back. On the tips of my fingers, the words on my mind linger, slowly start to take form and mingle, to make the whole creative process simple.

Also got a couple of 'designer' books where they kinda explain/teach/tell you how to find that eureka moment. Although I still quite firmly believe (unless convinced otherwise) that we all have our own different ways of finding ideas, some say that there can be logic behind creativity.

I myself subscribe to this fantastic notion that creativity is a force that noone wants to reckon with. It is mysterious and elusive, and liken to the Fairies or the Gods. I remember reading an article like that, perhaps for a GP essay. It's nice to mystify something when we have very little knowledge on the subject. Of course, it aids us in making it 'likeable', because humans always like to go along with the flow.

See something you don't like, and nothing's gonna change your mind. Same with mystifying the eureka moment. If you go along with the notion that creativity is a random event, one that comes up when you least expect it, then yes, an idea does pop up occasionally, when you least expect it to pop up. Is it the power of suggestion or otherwise, I am too limited in knowledge to further explain the situation. But it's good food for thought though.

Anyway, I guess I'm rambling already. Maybe it's because I've taken a 9gag page too many.

So I'll stop for now, here's wishing you great success in your endeavors in 2012.

And for good ORD.

AND MAN CITY JUST LOST TO SUNDERLAND ON THE 90TH MINUTE! <3

Meow. Good nights.

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [1:42 AM]*

Often times, at some juncture of life, you'd feel like the the crushed ball of paper above: Useless, worthless, past your prime. It's really a mini-crisis in life when you feel thus depressed, because you suddenly lose all inspiration and motivation. To compound to the problems, every time you see another person, you'd start to devalue your worth by virtue of upwards comparison - in short, you'd wallow in self-pity and feel like crap.

Everyone's been there, done that. What about times when it recurs? I sometimes find it hard to get out of this rut I'm in. I'm staying in the middle of my comfort zone. Every single second there degrades my abilities, erodes my confidence. I become worthless over time, not unlike how money depreciates when no one uses it. I want to go out, but I'm afraid of errors. I'm scared of failure, because I've had a few regrets too many.

So do I go forward? I do empathize with Cloud *ahem* because all he needs is someone to bring him out of the shadow of Aeris' death.

But let us not turn this into a rant post, for 'tis the season of joy and hope!

If I manage to record a nice Nyan rendition, I may just post it as a Christmas gift for everyone! (Also because I am a lazy Scrooge and don't want to waste money buying stuff and wrapping stuff for everyone.)

Let me wallow in my self-pity and here's wishing y'all a merry, blessed Christmas! MEOW!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [11:43 PM]*

3am.

Good evening, people. After sleeping at these kind of times for so long, I find it very difficult to sleep 'early' now. But it's okay, at least I have something to do now; write.

Call it a psychological effect, but ever since changing my hair parting to the left, I seem to have a lot more creative flair! It's like that moment before sleep when you can't really sleep and end up tossing and turning in bed, I actually had lots and lots of ideas. To write and to talk about. Ideas that are, in theory, fantastic. Execution-wise, some may not be that plausible.

Not sure whether there's a rift in brain-dimension, or I (people) seem to generally get inspiration at the most inconvenient/unimaginable of time! You contemplate deep thoughts during shower, muse about life's options and choices before bed and some even claim to be inspired while taking a dump!

Anyway, here's a call-out to my beautiful lady, Muse, who is sooo darn elusive. Plays so damn hard to get and when you finally get a hold of her, she just slips through your fingers. Will you please get back here so I can finally write a decent story-plot for my RPG?

Ahem. A bit of background here. I've been trying to write a plot for my RPG using some spare time (and lots of office materials) while in camp. Basically, balancing hero classes is a massive bitch. I can't seem to calculate a lot of stuff. (That is, damage, armor reduction, level curve etc...)

It is imperative that I learn - or at least familiarize - myself with these issues because I can foresee myself using 'em a lot in the not-so-far future.

Anyway, football tomorrow at 6am in camp, so I better be catching whatever sleep I can catch. Like I said, my sleep debt is probably graver than Greece's financial debt. Oh and Christmas period turns out to be quite a hectic season. There are possibilities of jams, a whole slew of parties to attend and events to manage.

Taking it all up ...

wait for it...

wait for it...

.
.
.

And of course I enjoy parties and all but seriously, planning for such stuff is a massive bitch. But when you successfully plan one and everyone else enjoys themselves, then you will...
Bwahaha. Gonna spam you guys with ALL!!! the memes.

Sorry, it's getting to me. It's the night, I swear! I'm not talking to/with my alter ego or anything. Please, we're harmless, we're harmless! We just wants it, the preciousssss. (If you didn't get the reference, please hang yourself.) On a side note, anyone realises how Gollum (Smeagol's split-ego) is actually the result of the cruel abuse of Sauron, Humans and Fate? Yeah, if your life's screwed up, think about Smeagol.

Argh, I'm side-tracking like mad. Better go sleep now.

GOODNIGHTS!

(And here's a totally random, night shot of a meteor falling. If you wanna get such a shot, I doubt you can get it in Singapore where it's so bright everywhere that you'll probably scare



||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [2:38 AM]*

"Life is a game. And like all games, if you don't cheat, you lose."

What y'all will be thinking will probably be this: Doesn't that imply good guys will finish last? What about morals and ethics?

Of course, the question of 'ethics or success' has been asked, discussed, beaten up and flogged by almost single person who is capable of the slightest bit of reasoning. But more often than not, we find ourselves stuck somewhere in between. We're divided by heart and mind. Logically, in order to obtain materialistic freedom and perhaps for fame or other personal motives, we will have to go by the fastest, easiest method. It doesn't matter if you have to eat babies for breakfast, because if eating babies does get you what you need, then screw it, you're doing it!

That is logical and perfectly understandable. We're bred in a society which prides itself on 'meritocracy'. Which is actually a nice substitute for 'if you're not powerful or rich, you're worthless'.

But now, most - if not all of us - have some kind of values inculcated into us. Be it from our parents, from our daily learning, from spirituality, religion - you get what I'm trying to say. I'll pose a simple enough scenario.

Say you want an ice-cream but you don't have enough money to buy one. Then, on your way home, you notice a completely blind, deaf, mute, unguarded and defenseless child with an ice-cream. To top it off, it's a bloody hell Magnum Dark Chocolate ice-cream.

1. You grab the nearest crow-bar and knock the brains out of that child and grab his ice-cream as your spoil of war.

2. You lament about how some kids get off better than you in life and how everyone else but you have a comparative advantage when born and how blah blah *insert rant here*. (And then you go to a blog and rant it all out as well.)

3. You clench your fist and make a mental note to work your ass off and save every other penny you have to buy that ice-cream.

Just so you know, if you put me in that scenario, I'd choose option 4: Wait for an opportunity to get it. (Remember, remember, some time last December of 7-11 Magnum discounts when two ice-creams are going for the price of one.)

Do note the considerable length of time the different options take to get you your ice cream.

What we have here is this:

A motive: Wanting an ice-cream. The object: An ice-cream. The different methods. The obstacles. And time taken.

Obviously choice 1 gets you your ice-cream the fastest. But you'll be haunted by your evil deeds and can't sleep at night. Choice 2 isn't really going to do anything but make you feel a little better. Choice 3 is what keeps meritocracy going. (No one said life was fair.)

And most of us will probably go with 3 because it is the one that most law-abiding citizens would do. It makes us all feel good and that what we get is what we earn.

But I'll let you in one a little secret: I'm not fine with that.

In fact, I'm utterly disgusted by that. I am dissatisfied that other people are born with silver spoons in their mouth - and don't start saying "Oh but what about the poor people in Africa who are starving". Yes, I am not satisfied. Yes, I am not going to take it down.

But that is a fact of life that I live with. I recognise that we're all unequal. Some of us are smarter in somethings than others. Some of us have talents others don't. Even useless people are good at something - yes you've guessed it, good-for-nothing.

What I want to say is that somewhere, somehow, someplace, things will work. At least, I believe that's the case.

And to get back to the topic at hand, that is the way I intend to cheat.

Not cheating by "Up-Up-Down-Down-Left-Right-Left-Right, B, A, SELECT, Start". Not cheating by robbery or crime.

I intend to cheat by beating the system.

Everything in this world is probably designed by an individual or a group of people for a specific method. If you look at racism, it's a way for the conquerors of ye olde time to divide the people, to make sure that the conquered would never find a reason to unite and overthrow them. If you look at meritocracy, you can argue that it's a specially designed rat wheel to get people to generate more income, ergo higher GDP, ergo governments get richer while you get richer while some other guy is probably losing his or her job.

Which is why I believe I'm rather cynical. If you asked me something like, "Are you for or against meritocracy?" I'll probably not have a stand. Because I know that such a system is already in place, so if you're unhappy about it, either you change it or you beat it.

---

Ehhhhh. I realised I wrote this rant a few weeks ago and decided to procrastinate.

As usual, I'm out of ideas, so I won't bother y'all with any more crap. CONSIDER THIS A FILLER AND YOU'LL HAVE TO STAND WITH MY BULLSHIT RANTS.

AHAHAHAHA.

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:26 PM]*

After I donned the blue cloak of death (aka surgical gown), I glanced at the mirror and hey, I felt sexy. If only I wasn't heading towards immediate death. Definitely would've felt better if I was in a kimono or bathe robes. Anything but that surgical gown. Complete with that head-piece thing and I looked like I was going for a life-or-death surgery.

Believe you me, I was shaking with fear as the nurse laid me onto that round tube-o-death. That feeling of impending doom wouldn't go away as my mind boggled while playing out countless possibilities of how the whole thing may go wrong.

What if the machine blows up when I'm inside? What if it malfunctions and collapses? What if there's an old lady waiting to smooch me when I'm inserted into that tube?

Having a laminated newspaper cutting outside which read "Boy survives operation but dies from freak accident" didn't help either.

Anyway, the MRI experience wasn't the best.

1. It's so damn loud even with ear plugs and ear cushions. It's like BEEP BEEP BEEP POH POH POH PEW PEW PEW and it's freakin' irritating and loud. It's as if the sound penetrates your skull and screws with your brain.

2. You feel as if you're sliding in and out, or as if you're floating/moving, but you're actually not. Very subtle, but you can feel it. Not a great feeling.

3. After the whole thing, you feel as if you want to puke and/or have a migraine. But I think this is mostly due to the nocebo effect.

So, I kinda survived it and I THANK ALL THE GODS that they didn't inject the contrast dye into my brain. I'd have cried there and then.

Oh and the thing about music being played during the scan? It's bullshit. None was offered to me. I'd have them play Beethoven's 5th, or maybe Aria detta la frascobaldi or even better, THIS.



Anyways, signing off now. 10% more before my Sims 3 finishes downloading. (:

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [10:53 AM]*

Slept for four hours 'til 11pm and now I'm online listening to Yasunori Mitsuda's compositions on Chrono Cross. Very beautiful music and fantastic composing, perhaps only second to the evergreen Nobuo Uematsu.

I won't say I'm a huge fan of classical compositions before, but ever since my musicality has matured, I've realised that I start to accept and love many other different types of music.

Now, Paul Gilbert taught me (albeit through a Youtube video) that there are two kinds of guitarists: One who plays notes a la Yngwie Malmsteen and another who plays it in a rhythm. I wouldn't say one is better than the other, because versatility in a musician is powerful. Look at guitarists like Paul Gilbert and Steve Morse; I consider these two to be my greatest influences in my guitar playing. They can play anything from neoclassical to modern shred to heavy metal to hard rock to jazz to ... anything! It's the sort of musicality in their soul that makes them so special, so unique.

Take nothing from of the purist though, the works of Bach, Beethoven and those of Classical origins are fantastic as well. I'd say musically, I'm very much influenced by the works of Beethoven. The magic of music therefore, lies in its subtlety in grasping you, and making you feel mesmerized.

Of course, I try to emulate the works of these geniuses but my musically and technically, I'm still not up to scratch... yet. I want to find that... special something! That spark in life that's missing like the Frozen Flame. Something that can inspire me to do things, make music, make art.

Anyway, it's inspirational enough that I can listen to fantastic music late into the 'morning' with my awesome Sennheisers.

Because I can hear all the bass, all the guitars, all the vocals, EVERYTHING. SO. DAMN. BEAUTIFULLY.

(Also if I continue any longer, this'll just turn into a rant.)

So signing off now! Probably going to bath and sleep soon... Meh!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [1:50 AM]*

Contemplating about moving house, the after-effects and all that makes me shiver in horror. Imagine the dread when the day of moving actually came. You sort of psyche yourself up for it, but when it comes, it still hits you like a train.

Having to pack every single thing in one's residence into mountains of cardboard boxes and then moving them to another location can be one hell of a logistic nightmare. Not only is moving house a troublesome activity, it is also a very costly one; exacerbated by inflated property prices and the rising cost of living in Singapore. A converter air-conditioner can cost up to $3000 to install. A fridge costs $500. The movers were paid $30 for each trip - and we had to do 10 trips, so that's $300 for the truck alone. Then all the miscellaneous fees like room partitioning, eating out, buying drinks, negotiating with the tenants and getting the damned connection working. I swear the ISPs are throttling not only our connection, but also our wallets. $250 just to make a socket? Of course, theirs was the perfectly logical reason: You live in landed property. Ergo, you have loaded pockets and are the sole heir to a multi-billion corporation. Ergo, $250 for a socket is just peanuts. Ergo, you don't mind being scammed. The cost incurred while moving just sky-rockets for me.

But that's not the end!

Imagine the horror when I had to pack and move for four consecutive days. I even had to carry two of my guitars while riding my bicycle and carrying cables. Actually, that wasn't the real part of the nightmare. What really killed me was having no Internet connection for four days.

I ended up spending my day with a few old-school games. O2jam, Touhou, Age of Empires II, Starcraft, Warcraft III, Heroes III... It was actually interesting for a while. Until owning in every single game made me feel bored again. (Remember I have no online capabilities... yet.)

Not to mention while the bus-stop is directly behind my house, I have to walk one whole friggin' circle to get to it 'cos some stupid house is blocking my path. And they have chickens crowing - yes, I mean crowing! - at 6am in the morning. That really pissed me off.

Well, it's not all doom and gloom. At least I managed to get a better 'room'. More space for my stuff - computer and guitars - but the room which I actually sleep in is really just pathetic. Oh and 2 Fat Men is a bit closer to my house now!

---

The 5th day since I officially moved into my new house.

It's still dusty and untidy, but at least it's not as chaotic as a few days before. I'm still having some trouble sleeping and conditioning to my apartment. I'm not sure if I'm glad to be going overseas tomorrow (Wednesday). With the Internet sockets and air-conditioners still waiting to be installed, the chances of Murphy's Law being executed seem to be quite high. I just hope that nothing else happens on my watch; having to settle all the itsy-bitsy things have taken its toll on everyone already.

But enough about moving house - must've bored you all to death!

Going back to Malaysia and I'm not even sure what to do there. Kuala Kangsar isn't Las Vegas and I'm not kidding when I was they don't even have a decent shopping mall. Even with SGD being strong, the Standard of Living in Malaysia is insanely high. Not to mention international brands there also cost 2x the price in ringgit. So it'll just be like Harvest Moon - Back to Nature for me! (Love that game. It has to be one of the best simulation games ever. EVER!)

I'll be bringing along my camera as well. (A.N.: Going to upload 'em now.)

Whoever said that the countryside is good for you ought to think twice.

Just hoping that I'll have some epiphany or have serendipitous findings over there.

---

Nope.

I saw the number of photos I had to screen through.

Nope.

#level99procrastinator. #level99lazybum.

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [1:13 AM]*

I actually managed to go deeper today.

These past few days have been tiring for me. I marathoned White Collar's first season in less than a week! Yup, that meant watching episodes 'til 2am on weekdays. I'd say it was worth it because Matt Bomer is just so darn charismatic. Nevermind he's allegedly gay. Oh perhaps it's Neal Caffrey that's charismatic, 'cos his character is just friggin' awesome.

The purpose of the whole chunk - other than fanboying - is actually to tell y'all why I haven't been sleeping in early these past few days.

So, I went to work and being the sluggish, grumpy and easily irritated zombie, I went to take a short l'il sweet nap.

And that was when I went DEEEEPER.

Location of sleep: Sofa chair.
Time of sleep: 0900 hours.
Condition of sleep: Not very comfortable.
Room temperature: ~18 degree Celsius. Fairly cold if you ask me, since it just rained the morning. Would've been perfect with my thick quilt back at home.
Lighting: Dim. Natural ight from the windows.
Chance of intrusion. Pretty darn high since I'm not supposed to sleep at work. But I guess I took some liberties with my migraine.

Under these conditions, I went to sleep at around 0900 hours. Then when I woke up, I'm in this small, dinghy room. Apparently, it was really dusty. Not with the sort of dust you'd expect from years of disuse, but rather, red dust. (On hindsight, there was this construction site where I wasn't supposed to trespass in my camp. And it's always reddish-brown, the same colour of the dust, because of some mixing and pounding and stuff. Guess that's where I got the colour of the dust.) Because when the orange-red rays of the setting sun filtered in through the window, I could see red dust floating everywhere. Not natural, if you'd ask me. Unnaturally reddish-brown environment, similar to Mars. Also, waking up in a room that seemed to be somewhere from Iraq. My first clue that I'm dreaming. I also took a look at the clock.

It didn't read 1500 hours. Instead, the clock hands suggested that it was 1500 hours but I vaguely remembered that the numbers on the clock were weird digits/symbols. My second clue that I'm dreaming. Of course, my first reaction was fear. Not fear of this unknown place I'm in, but fear that I actually slept for 6 hours and that my bosses had some punishments in mind already. Rational thinking took over after, and I got even more scared: What if I actually hibernated for a long period of time and over-slept through an apocalypse? So much for rational thinking. (Also, the only other being that can sleep through an apocalypse is probably Garfield. Perhaps, the reason why I had this dream was because I've been thinking of Garfield. Hmm.)

There seemed to be some lapse in time or memory, but I'm still in the same location. Or maybe it's a false perception of memory loss. Nonetheless, I decide to explore the location. Entered a room that's not so much reddish-brown as it is normal. Yup, a normal room, with a ceiling fan that's rotating at a very slow speed. And of course, one of my superiors sitting on the chair, legs on the table, doing his work. Or at least attempting to make it look as if he's doing work, although he failed terribly.

He's not the worse, so I managed to talk to him. I remembered him pointing in a general direction and giving me some command, but I actually forgot. Then bam!

I woke up.

Woke up to the original place of sleep, with only 30 minutes elapsed, and everything's fine and dandy bare a numb hand and sore body. Then a huge memory lapse.

Probably because by the time I've written half of this essay, my mind has decided to forget what happened in the second layer of the dream.

But when I woke up AGAIN, it was the real world already. 30 minutes elapsed, numb hand and sore body. Same as the second layer, but I kind of 'woke up from reality'. Quite cool to, y'know, go DEEEEPERRR.

Nevertheless, the rule of the thumb is to not be tired when you go to work. Yes, you do feel like a grumpy zombie.

Was White Collar worth it?

Definitely. And I can't wait 'til Season 2 and 3 finish torrenting.

---

YES! Finishing Season 3 very, very soon. I wrote that passage in camp, printed it out and transferred over here by sheer willpower and fast fingers.

Meh, I'm so tired these few days. Need to get some sleep.

Oh, quick update on the author's life; I'll be moving house soon, and am contemplating a housewarming dinner. BUT, I doubt it'll fit EVERYONE, so I'm still thinking about it. (Pain in the ass to plan a huge dinner, ya?)

Also... trying to get my life moving. Really got this passion to read up on business law... Or at least some kind of law. Because the ignorant will stay weak and poor, while those with knowledge will exploit the ignorant for power, money and fame. Cruel fact of the world.

Last but not least, hope everyone gets a bit of something from this weird post. Don't know why, but inspiration's hard to come by nowadays. I need someone or something to spice up my life. Despite the obvious paradox in the next clause, Boredom is indeed contagious.

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [11:16 PM]*

It's a cold night, ain't it? Weather's topsy-turvy nowadays. I decided to make the most of the weather and went out to mess around with my camera.

Yup! Amateur photography. I'm using a P&C (Point 'n Click) camera, so I'm not one of those DSLR-totting photographers. Anyway, having a DSLR doesn't automatically mean you're a photographer. For some people, it just means they're very rich. So, what you will see is the product of a P&C camera and my amateurish photography skills.

Consider yourself warned! (Do note that I'm not a photographer, so please pardon my use of jargon or the lack thereof.)

I played around the aperture settings for these shots to create that shallow depth of field which, I guess, allows the viewers to focus on the subject and to cancel background noise.


Also, do note that as I'm a lazybum, the furthest I went is the front of my park. And obviously I cannot achieve Tumblr-esque or DSLR-ish photo qualities.

Next up, playing with shutter speed. Basically, having a longer shutter speed means you can blur the motion of fast moving objects and a shorter shutter speed does the opposite - freezes them. (And yes, do laugh at my subject in the following photo.) I actually wanted to do a night street shot, but I'm too lazy to go out and camp.


This is me trying (to no avail) to take Tumblr-esque photos. I must say I kinda like the first one, probably one of the most interesting ones I've taken so far.

And this is what happens when you use too high an ISO.


The following photos are just random shots of random things and me trying to achieve the best composition of a random backdrop.



Alright, that will be all for the photography shots! If I come back with an inspiration, maybe I'll write a bit for tonight (Sunday) before I go to sleep.

Hope you've enjoyed the pictures as much as I enjoyed taking 'em. (I spent around 20 minutes taking those photos okay, so don't dismiss them entirely. ^^)

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [7:49 PM]*

You know, all the signs are showing that the world is indeed coming to an end.

Look at how our mother Earth is being ravaged by earthquakes, tsunamis and nuclear radiation. Vegetation is inedible, the cows are going mad, eggs and milk are either entirely fake or made tainted by poisonous elements.

Every country is in debt. United States of America is in debt, Greece is in debt, Italy is in debt, most of Europe is in debt, Manchester United is in debt; the economy is crashing down through the unstable wooden planks of a lone bridge and nobody is there to get it going.

Standard of living is sky-rocketing like no tomorrow. A pair of jeans can cost you $100. A t-shirt costs $20 nowadays. Of course, if you're a President and earning an annual salary of four million taxpayers' dollars, then the Inflation is indeed mitigable. But what if you're an NSF working on $400 a month and that's your only source of income?

Arsenal are losing all their star players, further fanning the flames of detest amongst fans that they're being a feeder club to richer, better clubs like Barcelona and Manchester City.

Of course, the best indicator that the world is indeed coming to an end is the fact that I am losing some of my motivation and inspiration to continue writing, hence the drought of posts these few days. There is, indeed, a lack of activity around my life since I spend almost everyday in camp doing nothing at all. However, an artist can and must come up with something, somehow. If you're not a genius, you have to grind for it.

Now, be prepared as I throw you a cliche.

"The only constant is change."

Anyway, this post shall be in two parts, mainly to divide the slice-of-life with my musings. Of course, it is also part of my fool-my-readers-into-reading-my-fillers project when I really have nothing valuable to say or write.

---

This is the second time I've been 放鸽子 by my camp-mates already. That makes it a 2/2 times of getting stood up. Nevertheless, three's a party and the day was eventually enjoyable. Although we're supposed to meet at 2pm, we only really met at four plus. CT and I were left to walk aimlessly through Illuma and Bugis.

But once Bruce came, we quickly settled down into this 6-ramen mini-village in Illuma. It's in this small corner and don't be fooled! One of the Marche-style ramen village while the other is - I'm purely guessing here - a high-end Japanese diner.

I really rate the ramen village because they offer you six different sort of ramen from the different parts of Japan and I think that's really cool. Add in the factor that the chefs are Japanese and get a really authentic 'feeling'. Only thing that really can be improved is the lights, really. It ought to be a lot dimmer to create that Ginza feel. But that's just me.

Food-wise, it's not fantastic, but at least it's still there. I'd rate it a 6.5/10.

I had a King's Ramen that costs $18 and is really a huuuge bowl of massive 1-inch-thick cha shus, leeks, half an egg and stuff.

This is dubbed the 'Black Ramen' - not because it's racist, but I think it's because they use a lot of soy sauce and thus the soup becomes black. Personally, I don't really dig the taste because leek and soy sauce and all don't really appeal to me. The cha shus, however, are MASSIVE. Eating them on the month of Ramadan made me felt a tinge of guilt until they melted in my mouth. The only gripe I have is that they are a little too oily and salty. 6.5/10 for this one.

Bruce's ramen. The special thing about this ramen is probably the noodles. Soup was good, and all, but kind of small. $13 for this one. Didn't eat this, so I can't rate it.

CT's one. When the poster said "Super Rich Soup!!!" they really meant SUPER. RICH. SOUP. Has to be one of the richest ramen I've ever had. Kind of a put-off if you hate thick, rich, salty soup though. I'd rate the soup a 7/10.
We also had a round of drinks. Sapporo beer for me, because I thought I wouldn't like drinking sake. It kind of tastes like a mix of Heineken and Tiger; a stronger, meaner version.
And wait, CT and Bruce had Sake. Yeah and they didn't even ASKED for the price. It costs $23 per mini-bottle - a total rip-off if you ask me. My mouth was literally wide-open when the cashier registered $77 on Bruce's card. I was like "ZOMGWTFBBQ".

After eating, we went to the arcade and believe you me, CT is MEAN in Time Crisis. He almost finished the whole of Time Crisis III in one token. Yeah, he is THAT good. My mind was blown when he used the handgun like it was a pair of Uzis and had bullet-dodging skills that would make Hanzo Hattori proud.

Then there was this art museum somewhere around City Hall and y'know, really expensive stuff like a $60,000 art piece was showcased. I was kinda surprised admission was free, so me gusta and just walked inside and try to be artsy-futsy.

Anddd, there's this cafe called Cat Socrates in Bras Basah. Y'know, the sort of shop where everything is rustic and "feel-at-home" and nice and you feel like buying everything there? Yeah, the kind of shop where everything is friggin' overpriced and expensive. So we just went in, looked around, and bailed to Rankings to get my strings.

I was too tired to go to Wei Jie's party, so my apologies.

---

Actually, there was supposed to be a whole long load of other stories, but they just came out half-arse in my mind. Like, y'know, when your mind is blank - empty, the state of Zen - and you start to churn fantastic stories and plots, then suddenly, you forget stuff and all.

Well, one of those times. So to fill this slot, I've actually used Tricia's meme. (Yah, I get it a lot from her because she always does 'em and I don't fish for stuff like that online.) [I am actually so out of ideas/lazy that I didn't update this damn blog for so long yes I know and I apologise.]

SO HERE WE GO! Harry Potter meme.

Harry Potter- Tell about a scar on your body.

Wolverine slash marks on my left triceps because one day, I decided that it would be cool to engage Wolverine in close quarter combat.

Actually, I got it when I skidded along the tarmac when the car crashed into my bike during Secondary school. Apparently there was one along my face but I'm so so so so so glad it wasn't permanent.

Oh and just to brag about my birthmark, I've got this cute car shape thingy on my back. <3

Ron Weasley- Something you’re afraid of.

I'm scared of everything. It'll be more appropriate if I was asked what I'm not afraid of.

Um, just to name one fear that isn't probably as widespread as fear of the dark/heights/creepy crawlies/blood/needles... I actually am very afraid of not being up to the mark. It's kinda part of me being a perfectionist and how I don't like to lose and how I wanna be the very best...

Hermione Granger- A subject you know a lot about.

I'm a jack of all trade, master of none. Yes, a little bit of everything. Something which I have more in-depth knowledge would probably be "How To Be A Complete Jackass".

Draco Malfoy- Closest green item to you.

My hippo Stripes of my table tennis medal.

Severus Snape- Your favourite alcoholic beverage.

It's a toss between a 12-macallan and a yaygerbomb.

Rubeus Hagrid- Your favourite animal.

NYAN. PROBLEM?

Luna Lovegood- Something about you other people find weird.

Why I insist on doing things MY way? Why I always want to WIN? Yeah. I'm an ass, deal with me.

Neville Longbottom- Your favourite flower.

I don't really like flowers... and I'd say Blue Roses (Laura Wingfield, anybody?) if the previous person doing this didn't already done so. Is Mimosa a flower? xD

Nymphodora Tonks- Something you would change about your appearance.

Definitely want to be buffer. Not INSANELY-STEROID-RAGE buff, but at least LEAN-buff. Y'know, the sort 180cm tall, 60kg, lean muscles kind of guy? I don't know what the hell's wrong with my body but I'm seriously TOO skinny.

Fred and George Weasley- The last prank you pulled on someone, or someone pulled on you.

Just 20 minutes ago, we 4-manned a lane and made a poor guy rage-quit...

Voldemort- If you were to make a Horcrux, it would be…

What's a Horcrux?

-after googling...-

I'd say my guitar? Like how awesome would it be to like invoke magical stuff out of your guitar?!

Moaning Myrtle- The last thing to make you cry.

I forgot the last time I cried.

Sirius Black- Have you ever taken the blame for something you didn’t do?

I don't usually take the blame for someone else.

But when I do, no one notices it.

Dobby- What is your most loved article of clothing?

As of yet, my most loved article of clothing has to be my vest/cardigan black floating conductor thingy.

Peeves the Poltergeist- What is the best/funniest insult you’ve used/heard?

"Then allow me to shatter your delusions of grandeur!" - Beatrix.

Not an insult per se but freakin' bad ass.

Sybill Trelawney- When was the last time you experienced Deja Vu?

I thought these kind of things are like dreams? You forget about them after a while.

Filius Flitwick- What is your favorite spell from the Harry Potter series?

YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

Lily Potter- Is there anyone you love so much you would die for?

No, but there is someone I love so much I would live for.

Arthur Weasley- What piece of “Muggle” technology fascinates you most?

Facebook. LOLOLOL.

Mundungus Fletcher- Have you ever stolen anything?

Nope. +1 to Honor.

Viktor Krum- If you were a Quidditch player, what position would you play?

Left Wing, that's the position I play best. But no, I have no idea what positions are available in Quidditch, so I think somewhere along the left would be fine as I'm a lefty.

Fleur Delacour- What physical attribute do you like most about yourself?

I'm not particularly buff or handsome, so I guess I'll go with my guitarist fingers.

Hedwig- What was your all-time favorite pet, or, if you’ve never had one, your all-time favorite birthday gift.

Didn't have a pet. Didn't have a birthday gift.

FOREVER ALONE!

Albus Dumbledore- What is your proudest accomplishment?

I actually managed to do nothing for 19 years. My proudest accomplishment would be getting 2nd place in Primary 1 Arts competition.

-----

12 midnight.

Booking in tomorrow.

I big big jelly.



||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [8:58 AM]*

Image courtesy of nebezial @ Deviant Art. (View it on DevArt for it's full awesomeness size.)
Sometimes, Venom likes to rear up its ugly head in front of everyone without my permission. Yeah, that entity that is engulfed in darkness, venom dripping like a mist of obsidian evil. Venom is like the spawn-child between a Xenomorph and your evil mother-in-law. It just pops out of no where, actually. Sometimes, a little frustration, or a little provocation, can allow Venom to suddenly appear. Challenging me with that all-consuming smirk; just like how you can't really resist the charms of a pretty boy, albeit this one's charms rather laced with - pardon the pun - venom.

Words fell out of my mouth before I could think, the red mist of anger rears its head. Over time, it suddenly becomes less of anger, and more of a... reflex reaction? Pet peeves, some people call it. Personally, I feel that if one cannot control one's emotions, then one becomes a very poor person. For if you do not even have the control of your own soul, then who does the mastery of your body belong to? Are you not just a puppet then, controlled by invisible strings of Sins?

Aggressive body language, a burst of outrage, an uncontrolled cry - these are the rather visible forms of anger mismanagement. Of course, there are rather subtle ones. Ones that are, perhaps, more insidious. I'd like to compare the former to a shotgun - short, sharp bursts in your face - and the latter to poison.

Yes, a slow, painful death that eats from your inside. Thus, I find it ironic that "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me". This is really extreme, but try telling your parents to go to hell. If one ever spouts such unfilial, abominable words, then there's really much to be reflected upon. Sometimes, the situation may make a person lose control of his or her emotions, and thus, can be a reason for an outburst of emotions. Note that I say it's a reason and not an excuse. For excuses are synthesized by the incompetent as forms of covering up their uselessness.

One thing about this peculiar venom: the adrenaline, top-of-the-world effect will very quickly wear out and you'll be overwhelmed with feelings of guilt. It's like taking drugs, really.

One kind word of advice: The next time you feel the need to release an outburst, think about the consequences first. Cliche and easier said than done but a potential life-saver if one of those outbursts is preempted.


||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:04 PM]*

Such a wonderful morning for deep musing and pensive reflection. The light drizzle adds a gentle, melancholic rhythm in which my thoughts pour forth unobstructed. While I prefer to let my thoughts cascade like a flow of legato notes, some people - ahem - prefer to cuddle snugglywuggly in their beds and sleep into the afternoon - because waking up at 11am is ungodly.


Anyway, my day would've definitely been better if that arsehat of a doctor would've GIVEN me that two days MC when I requested for it. Instead, he went like, "Noooo, if I give you TWO days MC, the government will probably take my soul and my first born."

I mean, come the hell on, help me a fellow friend in need. And it's not like my illness is fake and gay.

Then my conspiracy-theorist mind started churning out what could logically be happening behind the scenes and this is what I thought could be an explanation for the army to make clinic hopping illegal.

1. You must scan your 11-B. That identifies you as a NSF. Level ?? Doctor will thus be given a buff that allows them a 80% chance to de-buff your MC to a 1-day duration.

2. Every clinic has a MC quota given to servicemen, thus effectively limiting the number of Priests/Clerics/Healers in your party to a very low - and equally insufficient - number.

3. Army thus LOL in your face when NSF all have suicidal thoughts after being bored to death in concentration army camps.

See? The whole grid's lit up. I feel like I'm sitting on a geyser! No, I'm not mad, just an unexplained genius. Yay, I love Robert.

And seriously, why would Tom want to join the Navy? Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. People should be more vocal about questioning the complications of men joining the army, otherwise we'll all die with boredom-corrupted lungs, like devils sick of sin.

What about that dude who just couldn't get into the pants of that really cute girl? He wrote a threat love poem To His Coy Mistress. Maybe the effect that girls who play hard to get is similar to the one between Tamer and Hawk.

Man, that's all the references I can muster now. I can bombard all of you if I dig up my archives of poems, but these are right off my brain. xD

I must say though, I'd better spend today properly because after half a day, I'll be in a lousy hellhole.

Shall write another time, I feel stupid.

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:24 AM]*

Who else can I blame but myself for gaining so much in weight? It's really unhealthy gorging myself silly with food all the time.

Hello, people. It's been a long while, and as much as I'd like to post yesterday, I'm sad to inform you guys that I left my draft in my office. Yes, fast-forward 6o years from the Great Depression and Singaporeanise Tom Wingfield, and you have yourself a depressed, self-acclaimed poet who just wants to get the hell out of his 2 x 4 situation.

Let's see what I have for today.

Morning: 1x Bowl of breakfast cereal with milk.

Afternoon: 2x egg prata, 1x roast duck noodle with roast pork.

Evening: 1x half-chicken, 1x plate of veggie, 2x bowl of chicken rice.

Not to mention I always down either a cold beer or wine during evenings.

It's really no wonder I'm getting really fatter and fatter. Need to start more exercises!

So anyway, I'll leave y'all with a healthy message and another yours-truly-smart-arse-pseudo-philosophical-quote.

First is: If you don't want to be fat, you've got to work it out. If you want to be buff, you ALSO have to work out. Why not do both and enjoy a healthy lifestyle? And you'll get PROFIT after ???? too!

Secondly, friend of mine said something that made me think: people wanting to be other people, people escaping from their true selves: pretending.

So this came to mind: If you are with a bunch of people whom are classified as the lowest of all lowest life forms by society - and the keyword is, by society - then do you really have to be fearful of anything?

"If you are eating lamb stew with a farmer's family, enjoying drinks with the people in the tavern, or being jailed up with a bunch of outlaws, then you truly don't need to pretend. For no one cares and no one judges. The poor and the fallen do not judge. The former are not arrogant enough to judge while the latter is in no position to judge."

Long arse quote, if I say so myself.

I shall go sleep, retrieve my draft tomorrow, and see what I can do.

Until then, keep on trollin'! >:D

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [10:14 PM]*

Life has a way of sneaking behind your back and kicking you when you least expect it.

I told you guys I'll be writing a post 'tomorrow', right? Well, I didn't expect tomorrow to be 2.43am in the morning. I can't really sleep. Took my guitar out to the park and played some stuff and then got even more depressed; technicality isn't there, my repertoire is non-existent. I regretted taking my liquors over to Henry's yesterday, now I don't have anything left for myself.

Not sure if you can call these early symptoms of being an alcoholic, but whenever I feel depressed or when I can't sleep, the first thing that comes to mind is alcohol. Rule eight of the bar: Never drink just to drown your sorrow. It's a tough rule to follow seeing how this world is so screwed up.

I seemed to have lost my identity. Lost myself, my life. I'll bet half of you are already thinking, "This guy's a totally muppet. He's just 19 and he thinks he's 89 and been through lots of shit." True enough, I don't think I've been through major shit. Not that I'm really affected when shit happens. I'm depressed because things DON'T happen. It's like watering a sapling day in, day out and it just doesn't grow. Opportunities don't come. Windows don't open. People walk by me as if I'm a long-forgotten spectre - someone who is never there, an invisible entity.

I understand why people would rather be notorious than be unpopular - it's the lesser of the two evils. But doing stupid things is really against my grain. But then, people do judge. And they judge you by what they and the society think is correct.

Sure, tell everyone that you don't give a damn and that other people judging you won't affect you.

Who are you kidding? People are integrated. Like it or not, you're part of the society. If you don't live by the rules, you lose the game. Simple as that.

I'm a fine, living and breathing specimen of someone who goes against the mainstream. Am I surviving well? Yeah, kind of. You'll just ghost by, being unsuccessful, that's all.

Why do people want to be mainstream? It's simple, really.

Think politics. Majority rules. People wont give a flying damn and just go with the flow if 90% of the population thinks that eating grass is wonderful. Why do politicians turn to pleasing the crowds as one good strategy? Because if the general population believes and consumes the shit that you spew, and if everyone else - think socialism - is eating shit, then shit is good. If the majority votes for you, then you're in office. That's all it matters. That's the argument. Which makes us believe that being part of the majority - no matter at what cost or ethics - is actually to our advantage.

Think music. For goodness's sake. Rebecca freakin' Black. A PRIME example of how notoriety is a good facade for being plain. In fact, in her case, notoriety is the perfect cover for her lack of vocal talent. And mainstream music. Most 'artistes' that 'make music' don't really have any jack talent. All the underground talents who are playing their own music; overlooked and not cared.

And why? Because if the crowd don't even KNOW about you, then your talent is nothing. It's really the same concept as "picture or it didn't happen".

With these examples, you could actually guess at what I'm driving at already. But no. I don't really feel angsty. In fact, I feel... nothing. It's a weird sensation. It just hits you sometimes. When you feel nothing. I'd rather I feel angry for not being good at a certain something. I'd rather feel sad for not having many friends. I'd rather feel jealous at someone else who is more talented.

But no. There's just this huge void. Call it bipolar or manic depression, I don't care, but just let it go away. It's disturbing my sleep. And when my sleep is disturbed, I can get real cranky.

Maybe I should just stop trying so hard to put up a strong front, stop trying so hard to be good. I'm beyond the stage of giving up. Consolations are mere whispers of the Devil.

This post is so depressing I could barf.

I think I'm schizophrenic.

...

...

BUT HEY! I FOUND A CURE! Listening to cheesy power metal. Never fails to lift my spirits. So after a period of serious depression, I'm now freaking happy. Like, high on drugs or something.

Just another day in a poet-wannabe's office. Depression and mania slipping in and out in between hours.

I feel like deleting this post because it doesn't make any damned sense.

But then, the half an hour of writing this will go down the drain.

But this post is practically worthless and not at all insightful.

Staying up at 3:33am to write and then just delete it? No way.

It's okay if it makes you feel better. A form of outlet.

I don't need to feel better. I don't feel, remember?

Stop deluding yourself. Who do you think you are?

I make the perfect plot for a Final Fantasy's angsty anti-hero.

YEAHHHHHHHHH!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [2:39 AM]*

Guys.

I confess.

I've been neglecting this blog...

But I have good news and bad news. I'll assume you want to hear the bad news first.

Bad news: What you are seeing is just a small update, no inspirational writings or anything close to that.





Now, I can almost SMELL your disappointment from here. You have been dependent on chicken soupe writing for the soul, haven't you? It's like a drug... carefree and light. Yet, not restricting or addictive. You want it, you get it. At face value. No hidden costs or charges.





Are you ready for good news?

As I hugged my guitar back home through the rain at twelve midnight... Y'know, typical melancholic and picturesque scene - no doubt due to the lonely, desolated yellow street lamp bending over and focusing their light onto a tree branch and illuminating the golden leaves into focus - that made me... feel alive.

The wind caressed my soul as the mystical night suddenly seemed alive. Raindrops started dancing wildly around me, as if I was caught in a slight thunderstorm. The freezing cold made me give out soft, shuddering moans as I shuffled back home.

It's that... feeling of. LIFE. Of... MYSTERY. Of... DESOLATION. MELANCHOLY.

All these emotions, I can feel so strongly. The lovely rain. The wind. Nature.

One with the Earth.

*Makes a mental note not to go off tangent and keep this short*

But I will promise - or at least try to deliver - a good, insightful post this weekend.

Wait for it, guys, but don't hold your breath. >:D

Have a good night~!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [12:21 AM]*

How apt a quote to start off today's discussion with, for in this society, we are more and more estranged from our friends and families and the feeling of togetherness is lost upon our race.

The creation of the computer, the Internet and other mobile devices has made face-to-face interaction obsolete. Web-cam, video conferencing and the likes; I do believe that talking face-to-face increases the connectivity. Don't you just feel very detached when talking to someone online or speaking through a microphone?

We've sacrificed our emotions for convenience. A society of couch potatoes, staying in front of a screen whole day, not getting out much, being fat, obese and unfit.

Compare and contrast letter-writing and texting. Texting on the mobile phone is convenient: you can send and receive texts all around the world in a split second. Not that this convenience is unwelcome, but I would rather think that if you really want to be sincere, then write a letter; there's a touch of humanity and at least you're the one with the handwriting and signature.

Why am I saying all these?

Because recently, I've felt I'm isolating myself. Or rather, we've all come to become isolated figures in this increasingly global society - the irony is not lost on us here.

Thus, I always try to remind myself to go out with my friends, to start re-connecting. Of course, it's really tough to try to co-ordinate different (poly/JC/army) schedule so we can all meet up together. Then another thing is, we usually don't have anything new to do!

Well, I tried going to Hougang and then to Somerset within a day and tell you what, I got so tired and sick that I ended up having a really, REALLY bad liver. I'm not exaggerating when I say that my liver was in its worst state ever since 19 years ago. It was so bad I kept screaming and moaning like I was giving birth to a baby. Trust me, it's WORSE than stomach cramps.

I think a few factors led to my liver being screwed really badly.

1. Dehydration - I didn't drink plain water for 2 whole days.
2. Lack of sleep - Didn't sleep much for the last night.
3. Alcohol - Drinking alcohol and not detoxing - it was a fatal mistake.
4. Fatigue - Going around shopping and walking around Orchard/Somerset.
5. Starbucks and Coke - Not the best thing to drink on an empty stomach.
6. MacDonald Meal - I am NEVER going to eat Macs on an empty stomach EVER again. It gives me really poor liver.

Add that together and you have me, crowded by my mother and my maid a la ER, crying and screaming in pain. For, what, an hour or two? Ate 4 huge, green pills of God knows what and drank a really concentrated shot of ginger tea.

I must remember to take better care of my body. I'm just 19!

Nevertheless, I still enjoyed myself with my friends. Let's see... Orchard stretch is really expensive stuff. I guess I'm restricted to shopping in Bugis, where things are much cheaper. But I don't like going back empty-handed, so I bought a T-shirt for $25. Yeah, I got ripped, I know.

Anywho, I'll keep this post short. Weekends going to turn busy.

Good bye!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:57 PM]*

There we go, a quote worthy of the long-forgotten "Wise Jovi Sayings". In reality, I'm no wiser than a fool with too much to drink. Nevertheless, I'm going to write about some rather peculiar issues this time around - perhaps as a form of compensation for some of my subscribers have waited quite a long while for this post.

Yes, I know I haven't posted in a while. I'm going to write as frequently as possible - while time and brain capacity permit - while not reducing the quality of my posts.

---

Most, if not all, will have already judged a person or a group of people at some point of their lives. It is rather inevitable, for we live in a society where one's demise is another's opportunity. Especially when we are encouraged, consciously or sub-consciously, to try to elevate our social positions - by any means necessary.

Ever felt irritated by a group of China Chinese immigrants talking extremely loudly on the bus? Ever felt disgusted by a bunch of Chinese 'ah-bengs' pumping house techno music and hurling vulgarities and abuses? Or even felt like throwing a grenade at the group of ITE students who come up the bus and start their rough-housing?

Now, personally, the issue isn't their 'social positions'. Rather, it is the fact that they themselves are a disgrace, not the subject group of a whole. It's like saying 'all women are bad drivers' or 'the English drop everything - literally everything - and have tea at 3pm'. Caricature of the English aside, what I'm trying to drive across is that we all tend to judge. Critically and harshly at times, too.

Ardy once told me that it's important not to judge others too hastily. Then my mother tells me that it is important to have compassion, to sympathize.

Well, I find it easier to preach than to practise. I sometimes find pleasure in judging other people - then checking out if their characters are as what I've judged. It somehow sharpens my edge to see through people, see through lies and facades, see through people who act tough.

Of course, I am no Detective Conan, but I'm working towards a sharper 'human sense', so to speak.

Anyway, I figured that it would do be good if I started jotting down my ideas on a little notebook - the sort that has a picturesque cover page which probably is meant to inspire. Y'know, ideas behave in a way very similar to humans; they come and go, some more 'awesome' than others on the surface while others are gems waiting to be found. Also, they are very fickle; choosing to come and go as they please, never waiting, considering or even bothering to knock. Perhaps it is that intrinsic elusiveness - slightly coquettish, one may say - of both ideas and humans alike that draw our attention to them.

Since I am finishing an average of one novel a day, perhaps I could also book reviews to keep ideas fresh. Most of the novels I read have rather interesting thematic issues and novel ideas. Like they say: imitation is the highest form of flattery. To mesh all the ideas into one smouldering hot-pot would be convenient for me in the near future: game design centers very much on concept creation.

However, what you probably don't know is that I am actually writing this post in camp.Yeah writing using a cheap, ballpoint pen and an A4 paper - all provided by Big Brother Army. Rather poor excuses for writing materials, me thinks. Somehow, writing, instead of typing, gives me a much 'closer' feel to my work, as though computerized writing has made me detached - or is it actually the other way round?

Well, one can say that it is the result of my overly inflated poetic notions that made me feel 'closer' to my works. After all, poets and writers used to pen down their thoughts on ink and paper traditionally. It's just that writing is considerably more time-consuming and tedious due to the length of my essays. Having really poor handwriting don't help either. I will probably need to sort out my writing later at home; (At the time of TYPING this out, I actually had no problem reading my stuff) I already can't understand some of the words I wrote.

Ah, how far have I verved away from the topic - if I had one in the first place, at all. It's a rather boring Wednesday in camp, oh how I yearn to book out, go home, play scales over my guitar (actually, in hindsight, scaling is rather boring). Heck, I'd even study! Yes, am looking forward to DigiPen, although I'm not having too high hopes of having chicks in my course - game design is, after all, a predominately male area of expertise. Well, I do hope to be proven wrong though. Human interaction is sadly very much absent in my camp. For some reason, I find it easier to talk to members of the fairer sex when it comes to... personal issues. Unless, of course, the topics under consideration are football, liquor or sex. Hah, a perfect caricature of a male chauvinist. Damn, can't believe I'm writing such nonsense - another 15 minutes before I'm released from camp. (Written in real-time, you must remember.)

Guess I'll get changed into my civvies and get ready for book out.

---

And now I've typed this and all and merged and edited a few posts, I think I'll be lazy and just publish everything.

I'll call this post The Muse: The personification of ideas to me is this really cute, yet coy, girl who flirts with you. She's also extremely tsundere. Because she always come at the most inconvenient of times and when you least expect it.



||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:14 PM]*

I feel sorry for myself: The rain doesn't bring my serenity and peace like it used to. Jaded and sardonic, what else can I do to find peace within myself? Like the millions of people out there working for the sake of earning an income (what for, in the end, if you accumulate millions and go to the grave?), studying for the sake of a paper certificate (which, by all logical deduction, does not tell anything much except this person, on this day, doing this very paper, is able to regurgitate whatever he or she has cramped into his brain onto the paper.) and of course, living for the sake of... well, living.

One talks about spiritualism, about feeling that void in our hearts. For myself, I want to find a higher purpose in life. One that does not involve evaporating into thin air to meet one's maker a la a 100% rate of wrongly predicted Raptures. One that does not involve accumulating insane sums of wealth (although that is an added bonus).

To do something which I want to, which I feel for. Feelings are regarded as moments of weakness in this world; show a bit of honesty and you get taken advantage of. Show a tad bit of kindness and you get trampled all over. Yet, deep inside all of us, there lies a certain amount of evil, which - for most of the time - is suppressed by the 'greater good'.

Me. Designing. Music. Creation. Ideas.

These ideals appeal to me. Yet, a part of me seemed to have died. I have no idea when but a good guess is during A Levels. My brain seemed to have shut down completely. All the fantastic ideas, the innovative ones, seemed to have gone away. Am I finding excuses for myself? They say inspiration is to be found through hard work; it's not something that can be found serendipitously. Like, "Oh! Look at that beautiful photograph of a waterfall in a misted rainforest. *Mind churns and an idea pops up*" Yes, I do agree that once in a while, these sort of things happen. More often than not, writers, musicians and the lot - I've come to understand - have to work their way out.

Like what Catherine will say; they're not geniuses, they just work so hard and so fast that on the outside, their works seem to be so effortless and magical.

But today's rain... Somehow, brought me some quiet. Brought me peace. Love it, really. The melancholy it brings, every single pitter-patter brings a drop of hope, a little sadness, as blues as Blues can be.

---

The morning passes by rather swiftly and monotonously.

It's evening now, have to prepare to go to camp the next day. Yet, I'm not totally depressed, for I'm going for my juniors' guitar camp on Tuesday and Wednesday. It's going to be loads of fun; I intend to break TPJC school rules while I'm in it's uniform - when else can I break rules without the implications?

---

I realised I FORGOT to complete and publish this post; therefore, I am like, what, 3 posts late.

Anyway, camp was really fun, the juniors were fantastic, and the games were seriously very well-thought out. It was really well-planned.

Now, if only we had an overnight camp...

Anyway, I want to wrap up this post fairly quickly. That'll be all!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [12:27 PM]*

They say the heat may cause one to see illusions - mirages, the will-o-wisps of the deserts - but I cannot be more clear-headed than I am, as I sit in front of my letter with a jet-black quill in hand.

The edges of the parched, yellowish paper are ragged and torn, the lines undefined. My shivering hard dare not write upon the perfect paper, in fear that even the slightest deviation of perfect writing will be a blemish.

But the room is humid. The thick concrete walls block out the air and the cell is windowless. Humid and warm. It is getting into my skin, this unearthly heat. I stripped off my linen shirt and contemplated thoughts. Thoughts that would rather stay inside my head than be unravelled upon the papers. Now, the paper seemed to be taunting me, my perfect imagined handwriting now a devilish scrawl.

A daunting task; no one said it wasn't and thus, no one volunteered. In fact, no one can choose this task.

No, you can't even volunteer for it, for the task chooses you. It's almost as natural as how the opposite ends of the magnets attract. How the same repel and the different attract.

I'm breaking out in cold sweat; the plain four walls of the room seemed to be closing in on me. I feel claustrophobic, my stomach arguing with me, the bile reaching my throat, gleefully forcing me to retch.

I hold myself steady. I can do it, I say.

The instant I take up my quill, I hear a light, albeit urgent, rap on the wooden door. Blimey, who can it be at this hour? For I am accustomed to having no visitors during my long, solitary hours here in the confines of these walls. They say starring at the pale whites of the walls can drive the mind insane - only a matter of time, for what drives me mad could be both the blandness and the isolation.

"Hey, you worthless scum, the Head has finally found use for you," said the jailor with a smirk on his rugged face. "Dirty job for the likes of you."

If those insults provoked me, then it certainly didn't show on my face. I calmly put on my shirt and dropped both the paper and quill into my backpack. The jailor is a good head shorter than me, although being more masculine and stout. Apparently, he has been through the rough stuff as well, judging from the scars he has gotten all over his face. His cleft lip gives the illusion of a man who can't stop smirking. Just as well, that bastard.

"The fuck you staring at?" yelled the jailor, apparently losing his temper with me taking my own sweet time. "You a faggot?"

He can't scare me. I've been through much worse. That's why the task falls upon me. But just to not provoke unnecessary trouble, I bowed slightly and apologised, picking up my pack and walked towards the exit.

The jailor extended his arm across the door and barred my way. "Now, now, aren't you a little too fair for a guy?" he questioned and threw me a sly look. "Babysitting you bastards in this god-forsaken place makes me lonely sometimes."

He is now eying me from top to bottom, that slithery look of his seemed to be touching me all over my fair, lean body. As he reached out his arm to try and grab my flame-red hair, I shifted my weight the other way, grabbed his arm, hoisted him over and slammed him down on the cold, hard concrete.

All which happened in a time frame of less than five seconds. Here was the lecherous son of a bitch who tried to touch me. Sprawled all over the floor, having the wind knocked out of him. Sliding my combat knife out of my cargo pants, I cut out a piece of fabric from the jailor's shirt and stuffed it into his mouth. Conveniently enough, he brought along with him a piece of nylon rope and I cannot be more obliged to tie him up against the walls.

I fished his pockets for a set of keys and locked himself in those cold, lifeless walls. With a click of the lock, the jailor is now jailed and I must set out to do the task which I was given.

After spending what seemed an eternity in the cell, the cold, crisp air of the night is infinitely invigorating. With a spring in my steps, I sprinted past the cells, ignoring the loud snores of both the guards and the inmates. My thread is as soft as wind, as smooth as silk. My mind is crystal clear; I must protect my people.

For I am the lost prince of Tulizar. And if I don't free my people from the tyranny of the Farquhar, who will?

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [10:39 PM]*

Alright, before I go on a yet another long hiatus, let me update this little blog of mine first.

I need to feel young again. D'ya know what I mean? The things that youths do. Those 16 and 17 year old youngsters. I wanna go for stay-overs and drink and make merry and party. I feel really, really old just going to 'work' on a 5-day work-week basis. And then have my weekends burned by playing football and jamming.

While we're speaking of drinking, I'm seriously interested in learning how to mix cocktails professionally. Yes, bar tending. Or at least, parts of it. Because of the manga, Bartender, I'm really inspired by the way the Japanese mangaka, albeit exaggeratedly, portrays a bartender in such a romantic and poetic manner.

It's just that the prices of liqueurs are too expensive. Furthermore, glassware - flute glasses, champagne glasses, cocktail glasses, highball glasses, beer pints etc - are all very expensive. Too expensive for me, at the moment. And they're not that easily found. My definition of easily found? It means I must be able to find them in NTUC. Or Giant. Or something.

I also must mention that bartending, as a job or hobby, is mostly frowned upon in Singapore. Why? Because most bartenders are those who have no other jobs and/or are 'poorly educated'. I'd like to break this confounded notion because if we look deeper into bartending, it's actually a really professional career that is highly profitable. Of course, you must be a GOOD bartender, not half-arse punks who mix spirits without, well, putting their spirit into it.

Aaaand. Before I go off tangent by talking about bartending - which is not the case today - I shall re-focus everyone back to my starting point.

Which is...

I forgot.

I really had the inspiration to write after my work-out and bath, but then it sort of, as usual, disappeared. Vanished. Poof.

I wished my inspirational self would come out more often; for some reason, it started to become reaaaalll introverted, and just refuses to come out any more. I should coax it with wine and liqueurs. And more liquor chocolates. And simple indulgences. More artistic stuff.

Of course! Photography, music, bar-tending. All of which are artsy things to do. Music is becoming... rather dry. Now I know why people who learn Grade stuff are finding music a hassle to do. Because they are repeating the same thing, doing the same thing every day, so much that they're sick and tired of it.

For me, what gets me down is that my equipments are not really fantastic. And neither are my skills. It gets increasingly frustrating for me to know that people who are not as - I don't want to sound overly obnoxious or pompous - skilled as I am actually have a better sound, courtesy of their overly bulging pockets or sheer determination not to eat to save money. Yes, they have a better sound because of their equipments. Effect pedals, amplifiers, guitars, pick-ups and the like. What I have is a beginner's set. And it's hard to know what went wrong when I'm trying to experiment on my own.

Because if you're experimenting on your own, how do you even know when you've got the wrong sound?

More like, how can you even know where to start to fix that sound.

Thus, it gets really, really frustrating. Not so how other people have better equipments or are technically gifted, but more of my own faults that I find almost impossible to rectify.

Nevertheless, here are two videos - technically, audio - for you guys. It's covered with my usual gear and it's a one-take, so there are some mistakes here and there. Mainly did it 'cos I was bored today and wanted to record my playing.




Alright, alright, not the most professional of recording, but the idea's there. (:

OH! AND UNITED ARE JUST CROWNED CHAMPIONS!!!

SIR RYAN GIGGS, HIS 12TH MEDAL AND SIR PAUL SCHOLES, HIS 10TH!

GLOOOORY GLOOORY MAN UNITED AS THE REDS GO MARCHING

ON ON ON!!!

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [9:52 PM]*

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [12:05 AM]*

If you are a honest, working adult who has the least bit of self-consciousness, scruples and principles, then, for goodness' sake, GET YOUR OWN INTERNET CONNECTION.

Whew, that felt good.

Dear Readers,

Do you guys know my predicament? As a hard-working NSF who earns a meager $400 a month, I'm sharing an Internet with almost 10. Yes, you've heard it right, TEN full-time working professionals. And no, my house is not an office. It doesn't boast of 324 gazillion TB/s download speeds. Neither are my Internet cables made fiber optics. 10 people are using a miserable $60 plan; which by all rights is only meant to be used by ONE person SOLELY.

Rant aside, I want to point out the rather stark lack in civility, self-consciousness and basic respect of these people. One may argue that since I'm one of the 10 people sharing this connection - let he who has not sinned cast the first stone - I am therefore one who should not complain. Nevertheless, there are plenty of other salient points to consider.

First of all, as a NSF, what I'm earning is an ALLOWANCE, not SALARY. Is it that difficult for working professionals to eek out $40 a month to pay for a basic Internet connection? For those who don't know, I was using this $40/month plan before I went into army, that is, before having to use the Internet for only a couple of hours a day. If you're really so freakin' goddamn stingy enough to NOT want to fork out $40 a month and insist on getting a good, solid connection, then, my dear sir, you can kindly go shove the Internet cable up your sorry arse.

Don't go saying "Oh I only use it 2 hours a day" or "I'm not going to use much bandwidth". Because we ALL know, you use MORE than 2 hours a day. Because we ALL know that bandwidth can NEVER be shared. What's freakin' ridiculous is that a tenant - who supposedly is an IT professional - told me that he "will not use much bandwidth". If a computer idiot like me know that bandwidth cannot be shared, then you, as a "professional" ought to hang yourself on a tree. Or at least give me your monthly salary.

Secondly, it's a matter of principle. Yes, goddamn freakin' principles that all the new-age people lack. It doesn't matter what we're talking about - it can be related to anything.

Think about this scenario: (I thought it'll be real geeky to start naming characters Alpha and Beta, instead of your usual Tom and John; or 小华 and 小明.)

So, Alpha owns an apple farm, while Beta owns banana and durian farms.

Alpha's apple farm is self-sufficient, that is, it provides Alpha with 3 apples a day, keeping Alpha well-fed, providing Alpha just needs an apple a meal to keep starvation away.

Beta's farms provide him with over 9000 bananas and durians every day. He sells these bananas and durians for slaves in the market and these slaves help him to harvest more durians and bananas, which revenue is used to buy even moar slaves. (???? Profit comes to mind)

Herein lies the conflict!

Beta wants to sell in Ye Royal Highness' Royale Market, because the profit there will be so much more than selling in the regular slave market. However, the Royalties in Trollville only want to eat APPLES. (I can sense a few of you laughing right now.)

Thus, Beta gathers his over 9000 slaves to invade Alpha's farm, taking away one apple per day from Alpha, making Alpha not-quite-full-a-day-since-he-needs-an-apple-a-meal-to-keep-him-well-fed.

Hyperbolic caricature of capitalistic, greedy bastards aside, I want y'all to think: Is it morally correct? That in order to better oneself, we have to take from others, regardless of means?

Well, now you all can question the very basic principles of capitalism. But this is rather exaggerated. Because all I want for them is to get their own Internet connection. Is it THAT difficult?!

So, you earn your keep, you pay your connection, you stop complaining when it's down.

And most importantly... I KEEP DISCONNECTING!

Hah.

That's enough of a rant.

I feel satisfied.

Remember, if you want to get a feeling, you must look to the West...

||Sheyanne|| wrote to you at [6:11 PM]*

Jovi Kartolo.
17. Half a year to legal age.

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

-Guitarist-
-Gamer-
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