I’m on my way home and again I’ll have to turn back the Blogger clock by a day so that I can fit this into May.
03:00, June 2nd, Changi, Singapore… I have no other alternative but to find a quiet spot where I can plug my computer into a power outlet and connect to one of the wireless hotspots here. Sleep is not an option for now. With nothing else to do for six and a half hours, I write. Although the mood hasn’t quite struck me, I still need to make the date.
I’ve had a good couple of months and rather than regretting that it’s over, I’ll choose to be glad that I had them. At the start of the year I was afraid that there was nothing to look forward to until my I took my winter break at the end of the year. Then this happened and it’s been incredibly refreshing. Work didn’t change by very much, but the environment made all the difference.
But again, I don’t listen to myself very much, so yes, I am regretting that it is over.
One thing that this trip has brought back to the surface is my biggest fear. No, not the fear of a whole year without anything to look forward to; I can deal with monotony one way or another.
It has tortured me ever so long: that dreadful moment when someone or worse, everyone realizes that I’m nothing more than a big, fat, fucking fake. I don’t even know what I know and I’m more convinced of what I don’t know. But as long as I keep up the façade, people will believe that I’m doing something worth something. Years of education, people’s time and money, down the crapper. It’s quite sickening.
Friends too. I don’t know that I give back more than or even as much as I take from them.
Anyway fuckers, and I refer to anyone who happens to read this, this is not your opportunity to call this stereotypical blogger emotional venting. This is not a web log and I am not a web logger. These are my thoughts placed here because I will otherwise lose them forever very soon. If you happen to read them, I cannot pluck out your eyes or drain your brain. I am not omnipresent and/or omnipotent because I am not a God.
You are however, free to think otherwise anytime you want.
Wednesday evening was a melancholy one as I stuffed my suitcases and worried about my botched internet check-in attempt. That aisle seat I wanted looked really far away right then. Music was on, but it was mainly serving the purpose of background noise. Suddenly I realized the song that was playing and everything vanished. Restart, on full blast and that moment made my entire fucking day! California Dreamin’. There’s never anything quite like some good, old fashioned, hard earned MUSIC to put the spirit back into things.
Today we see the murder of music. Very, very little of what poses as music, being created today has the stamina to weather the years so that future generations can appreciate what their predecessors appreciated.
Music used to stand for something. Liberty. Expression. Whatever you want to call that something. The same meaning is quickly being eroded by the very people who were born as a byproduct of it.
Sometimes, the easiest way to lose something is to want it too much. This is nice, but it’s horribly infuriating that I can’t remember where I heard it.
Coincidence?? I heard Bang-a-Gong on three different movies on three different channels on the same day – Saturday the 6th. Either T-Rex is still very much in fashion or something’s really going on!!
And that’s not the first time anything like this has happened. I’ve watched six different Lauren Holly movies in a single week, again different channels, all found while flipping through. Then again, three separate movies linking to Alfonse Cuaron in a single weekend. I had never heard of him before that.
I have been involved in so MANY coincidences like this, that I have stopped trying to count or recollect them all anymore. Weird life.
“TV on the Radio” is an actual band? WTFF?!!
I didn’t know that when I wrote the lyric.
Nelly Furtado – Say It Right
Black Box – Ride On Time
03:00, June 2nd, Changi, Singapore… I have no other alternative but to find a quiet spot where I can plug my computer into a power outlet and connect to one of the wireless hotspots here. Sleep is not an option for now. With nothing else to do for six and a half hours, I write. Although the mood hasn’t quite struck me, I still need to make the date.
I’ve had a good couple of months and rather than regretting that it’s over, I’ll choose to be glad that I had them. At the start of the year I was afraid that there was nothing to look forward to until my I took my winter break at the end of the year. Then this happened and it’s been incredibly refreshing. Work didn’t change by very much, but the environment made all the difference.
But again, I don’t listen to myself very much, so yes, I am regretting that it is over.
One thing that this trip has brought back to the surface is my biggest fear. No, not the fear of a whole year without anything to look forward to; I can deal with monotony one way or another.
It has tortured me ever so long: that dreadful moment when someone or worse, everyone realizes that I’m nothing more than a big, fat, fucking fake. I don’t even know what I know and I’m more convinced of what I don’t know. But as long as I keep up the façade, people will believe that I’m doing something worth something. Years of education, people’s time and money, down the crapper. It’s quite sickening.
Friends too. I don’t know that I give back more than or even as much as I take from them.
Anyway fuckers, and I refer to anyone who happens to read this, this is not your opportunity to call this stereotypical blogger emotional venting. This is not a web log and I am not a web logger. These are my thoughts placed here because I will otherwise lose them forever very soon. If you happen to read them, I cannot pluck out your eyes or drain your brain. I am not omnipresent and/or omnipotent because I am not a God.
You are however, free to think otherwise anytime you want.
Wednesday evening was a melancholy one as I stuffed my suitcases and worried about my botched internet check-in attempt. That aisle seat I wanted looked really far away right then. Music was on, but it was mainly serving the purpose of background noise. Suddenly I realized the song that was playing and everything vanished. Restart, on full blast and that moment made my entire fucking day! California Dreamin’. There’s never anything quite like some good, old fashioned, hard earned MUSIC to put the spirit back into things.
Today we see the murder of music. Very, very little of what poses as music, being created today has the stamina to weather the years so that future generations can appreciate what their predecessors appreciated.
Music used to stand for something. Liberty. Expression. Whatever you want to call that something. The same meaning is quickly being eroded by the very people who were born as a byproduct of it.
Sometimes, the easiest way to lose something is to want it too much. This is nice, but it’s horribly infuriating that I can’t remember where I heard it.
Coincidence?? I heard Bang-a-Gong on three different movies on three different channels on the same day – Saturday the 6th. Either T-Rex is still very much in fashion or something’s really going on!!
And that’s not the first time anything like this has happened. I’ve watched six different Lauren Holly movies in a single week, again different channels, all found while flipping through. Then again, three separate movies linking to Alfonse Cuaron in a single weekend. I had never heard of him before that.
I have been involved in so MANY coincidences like this, that I have stopped trying to count or recollect them all anymore. Weird life.
“TV on the Radio” is an actual band? WTFF?!!
I didn’t know that when I wrote the lyric.
Nelly Furtado – Say It Right
Black Box – Ride On Time
