Where Do You Want To Land?

So I received my first globe ever. The emotions were big. It's one of those things that you have always wanted but never really get down to buying it. Having worked for a few years now with the list of want's ever getting longer, a globe is something that just gets relegated to the end of the list almost. It's beautiful, none of those chessy, fragile crap ones, but a good, solid one with a warm glow. I love it. Spun it around to the map of China and took this shot, since that's where I'll be headed for in a coupla weeks.

I am glad the work week is almost over. A really tiring one. Too much teaching which means too much talking already. It didn't help that my throat is still kinda sore. I am glad I did well and the students showed much interest. I am glad my running nose held up and didn't embarrass me either. It was a very rewarding experience and I will definitely continue to do it next year. I am definitely in my domain and I feel totally comfortable and confident doing it. Egoistical as it may seem, but I like that feeling. It makes it seem worthwhile albeit the massive effort and the energy required.

Many potential graduate students made enquiries on doing research with our group. I do understand their concern and I tried to be as honest as possible. Somehow the picture I painted seemed rosier than it actually is. Hearing myself said those good words about my boss and the group, I almost lead myself to believe that our group is indeed a pretty swell one. Maybe the dynamics within the group are really not as bad as I perceived them to be, either that or I am just being very convincing here. I don't seem to know anymore. Either way, I know I will make a bloody good salesman. Maybe I should use the same pitch to either lie to myself or to encourage myself, depending on how you look at it.

It is kinda like what Peter said to me the other day. The usual greetings in the morning and the answer is always 'good'. Until that morning when I actually said 'good, well, you know, the usual good' and in turn, he said 'yeah, good but with the background of something which is hardly good, such as the fact that a mate's husband just passed away last night and they have only been married for three weeks'. So there you go, why do we always answer 'fine' or 'good' when it's not really? Has it become so routine and mechanical or has it become an unconscious act of putting up a mini facade?

It's just one of those little mysteries in life, just like why do we always eat fries with our fingers? We could be having fork and knife in our hands but will still put them down to pick at the fries, even at the finest restaurants? Very strange indeed.

I have been helping a number of people out too at work. I don't feel smug about it but instead, I begin to wonder why I could be so rational and collected when it comes to solving others' problems but not for my own load of shit. It doesn't only apply to work, but in all aspects of my life too. I always play the unlikely counsellor to my friends, the unofficial head of the house to my housemates, and the core of the family that holds everyone together, but where does it all leave me in the end?

My life is nothing but a scattered tray of sand at the moment. I can't seem to organise my thoughts or to put my heart to anything at all. My sense of balance is definitely not quite there.

So what could I do, other than spending a fair bit this week buying fancy baby clothings and all. This is totally a first for me. I could have bought myself some fine shirts with the amount spent, but that's besides the point really. A friend who was shopping commented that it is so sexy to see a guy spending on his niece rather than on himself. Sexy? Really? Geez. If so, why am I still single and whinny here then? Hmm.

A trip up to Mildura this weekend. It's been nine months since we least head up there. The sunshine, the cosy holiday house, the good food and wine, great company and even all the hours of driving will provide a good opportunity for me to regroup myself.

I am still twisting myself into a knot with all the things I can't help from thinking up till even today.

Jagged Li'l Fire Pill

I am not proud of myself today.

I was such an angry man. First I cracked it at the tailor just because he was 15 minutes late and I refused to wait another more, demanding that he send the pants to my work place. After which I had a go at the building manager. He has always been a difficult man to work with, but I always let it slide, for the past two and half years in fact. Today came the deal-breaker when he actually started banging and throwing shit, that's when I flew at him. I was on the phone with the a guy from the police force in Singapore and I lost my patience when I couldn't make out a damn word he was saying. It wasn't so much on the bad grammar, but it was the poor diction that got to me. I told him he sucked big time and hung up on him. When the end of the day came and my pants were still no where in sight, I rocked up to the tailor with all the angst in me demanding for them and made all sorts of rude and personal remarks. Both of them kept apologising and even refunded me the fee, but I refused to back down and still had the last word. Such angst, very uncalled for.

What a day indeed. I woke up with that screwed up mood again but that still doesn't give me a reason to be such an angry person. I almost felt the 'old Julian', or Alan even, in me for a moment there. That's not good at all.

A friend once told me if you constantly crave for meat, you are an angry person but if you constantly crave for ice-cream and chocolates, then you are needing comfort. I don't hardly crave for meat unless it's roast duck or pork but can never get enough of junk food. So where does all this new-found anger come from?

I know my life is shit at the moment but is that really why? Venting my frustrations on others? If so, then it's definitely so wrong of me.

Well at least I kept it together and managed to teach two classes in a row today, repeating the same stuff twice. There are six more classes this week but I'll deal. At least I am so much more prepared and confident this time, as compared to last year when I first started taking classes.

And looking back at a past entries from last year, I have at least stuck to a couple of minor promises. I said I will never be involved in research week ever again and I did it, wriggling my way out totally. It is on at the hospital the whole of this week but I am only involved in the free lunch bit. Nice one. I felt like a total phoney the first time I took a class as I was so non-committal. I promised myself I will work on it and I reckon I'm doing fine now.

But, always the good ol' but, yes indeed, I have failed in being self-protective. I have yet again let myself go to a place that I have no wish to go to, all because I let my heart run wild. Stupid, silly me.

Alright, enough.

Seeing those wide-eyes undergraduates and their enthusiasm and passion for science, it's almost unbelieveable I am so jaded and tired even though I am just ahead of them for a grand total of three years only. What the hell went wrong indeed?

So I am more at ease now, but that doesn't mean I won't wake up feeling all effed up again. My throat is sore as anything and my nose is all blocked up. I am probably dying, whatever. I am still rowing and Kwok told me a story of how someone collapsed and died just because he was playing tennis when he was sick. I know that's possible but I just hate the feeling of being sick. I would rather be doing something if I am not totally bed-ridden.

There is a list of the 50 worst Aussie band names of time in the papers today. Air Supply is one of them, they deserve it totally. Machine Gun Fellatio is another. I can't believe I went to their gig before seeing a bunch of freaks of stage, and naked old freaks too, eew. My Friend the Chocolate Cake sounds strangely familiar even though I don't know them. Erm, wait a minute, could it be that someone who told me about them before? Yeah, probably so. Alright, next topic.

Every minute of the day, almost everyday, till today, I can't stop thinking. Some days are better, but the bad ones are always there. It's not healthy at all. I need Dr. Mierzwiak in Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind. I will be the first to rock up to his clinic.

Listened to the whole of Norah Jones' first album while cooking dinner. It seems like every song is singing out to me. Not good. I wish that soon I could say every song on Christina's new album is singing out to me, as it's all more finding the right one finally and how incredible it is. Tsk, tsk, sigh indeed.

I cooked a fine dinner though, first time in a long time. Maybe an angry man cooks well, that's what I've heard before too. Such irony.

A friend 'fessed up how she had a minor breakdown yesterday 'cos she realised how unsatisfying her personal and work life is and how she is sick of being a virgin still, yet at the same time, she has to 'pretend' to be a promiscuous 'ho just so that she will not be seen differently. Geez, could life get any harder?

I told her I am getting some here, in fact quite a fair bit but still, where does that lead me? I am still feeling empty as a drum.

On a lighter note, I have an idea what to get for my niece who is counting down the days to her entry into this crazy world, I will get a silver spoon in my favourite little blue box. It will cost a bomb, but I guess that's fine. Since she can't be born with a silver spoon literally, at least she could be born with one poetically.

Mum and dad are going all soft and have decided to step in to help bail Philip out of all his debts. The figure is no doubt huge but it didn't come as a surprise to me. Even with their help, he will just be reset to zero, and not where he should really be at his age. For the most part, the failure of Philip and Oliver stemmed from their anger problem. I hope after today, my temper will not be found again in a long, long time. It just doesn't pay.

Alright, time to crash. More teaching and talking tomorrow, geez.

Hands In My Pocket

...and just walk on by, kicking an occasional pebble that lays in my path.

The last entry was written during the early hours of Saturday, not Sunday. The date-stamping feature in blogger seemed to be all screwed up. With a birthday and a farewell, the date is important in this case.

A close friend left Melbourne this morning, she will not be back in the near future. We had a good dinner, I chose the place. Glad I didn’t screw up her last dinner here. She cajoled me to go up to the Rialto Observatory with her. It’s real touristy, and all these years here I have never been up. She’s like the little sister I never had, so how could I say no?

She told me a few things tonight. She appreciates me for being there for her always and that she likes me for being such a sensible person and how I always handle everything so systematically. Clearly, I feel like a fluke when she said all those things. Systematic approach to things maybe, but that one is a double-edged sword for sure. I plan too much, and in the midst of it creating too much expectations and hopes, only to be disappointed greatly time and again.

We hugged and said our goodbyes in front of the Rialto when we came back down. We don’t know when we will see each other again. We watched 49 Up together, and we made a hopeful pact to watch 56 Up in London. With our firm friendship over the years, I am sure we will make it. It’s never easy saying goodbye, and it’s one thing that does not improve with age or experience. Parting ways in opposite directions, I realised I was standing right across from 530 Collins Street. I turned away and walked on towards home. If someone were to take a shot that very moment in monochrome, I am sure it will turn out to be melancholically beautiful. It was a very still night too.

Her parting line to me was "take good care of yourself and erm, get well soon" clearly referring to my recent state of mind. I really appreciate that, it's sweet.

Oliver called at 2am this morning. Nobody likes a late call, unless it’s a booty call maybe. He wasn’t a happy caller, but I still held on to the phone. After finding out that I will be staying on, he is still giving me hell over the same issue. I am not trying to shirk the responsibility of taking care of mum and dad. He will never understand. The saddest part is he still has the notion that I am having the time of my life here and refuse to head home to reality. But this is my reality! What is he talking about? I made it clear to him that if I had a choice, I will leave for home right away with no qualms. He won’t believe me on that one of course.

It was just the other day that I openly admitted to my Honours year mentor that staying is not the best decision. In fact it could even be the worst. However it is an easy and convenient decision. With what’s happening between Philip and mum and dad and now Oliver, and also the possibility of not being able to find a job back home, it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.

I give up on explaining myself to others. It’s not only the fatigue, but also the drain I feel emotionally and psychologically. I don’t want to say no more. Think whatever they want to about me. Such is the recurring theme to my life anyway, being misjudged. As long as I know I have a clear conscience and that I have done enough, that will be all that matters.

Now that the tyrant in the family is awake again and making all these big decisions, maybe a trip back home and even up to Beijing is inevitable. I resent the fact that the youngest member in the family has to take on the duty of holding everyone and everything together. With my less-than-perfect existence here, how much more can I handle? But I know I have come to a point where I can't avoid the confrontations anymore, however much I hate them.

So I should take the trip after all. Even if nothing works out, at least I could rescue my books and records. Nothing in that house matters to me anymore, except those things, and of course some childhood photographs too. That will be all really.

I have started rowing again, and will get back into squash too this week. With everything exploding in my face lately, I need to do something. Exercising always helps a little, and I hope I can keep up this time amidst the madness.

I wish I don’t have to walk life winding roads alone all the time, but who can help me really? They can listen, sound me out, and offer suggestions and support. But maybe, after all, that’s all I am needing. It won’t solve the problems but it sure helps. It helps to disperse the feeling of despair in the morning and the feeling of being alone in the crowd. It helps to make me a stronger person and a happier person even and that always is indeed a great help.

I have been operating alone in a lot of things for a while now. I do seem to function better in life when I am actually not with someone and being dragged down by a heavy heart. At least I don’t go all silly and irrational and dreamy. I have more determination and strength and a sense of resilience when I have no one to lean on. That doesn’t really make sense, does it?

So am I really better off being alone? Or am I destined to be one of those who are condemned to not having someone by my side? Or is that considered a blessing in a sick disguise?

Ground Control To Major Tom

I never drink and dial, I just drink and write.

I had a good night, shucking oysters and sipping wine straight after work, followed by Clara's birthday dinner with good food and fine company. There were mostly close friends, so conversations were easy, and jokes were spontaneous and crazy. This is one big gathering that I required no effort at all to have a great time naturally.

It's almost three in the morning now, and I am feeling all warm and fuzzy and tipsy with all the wine in me, and so I will write on.

When I first started this blog, I have no audience in mind other than myself. I let a few friends in at the beginning, but that's that, never any more. I am sorry I have let you in this time. It is indeed too much information, but I seriously didn't expect you to read on, since you never care much for me anyway.

There was no message to be put across, that has long been discarded. I did not write with the intention to evoke any emotions, to draw attention, or to insult even. After all this while, you don't think I have already given up all hopes?

I am not that low or impersonal to use my blog as a medium to communicate with you. I have more respect for my journal than that, and for you and I both too, for that matter. Think what you want. But for this time, I am of course talking to you, just this once.

This is my journal, self-indulging as it may seem. What else am I s'pose to write about other than what's happening to me and of my thoughts? The flowers and the trees and the honeybees?

Letting you on this could be written off as an act of impulse. I figured it makes no difference whether you know one thing or everything, it's not as though I have never opened myself up to you before.

However, nobody likes to be unravelled so totally like that. I am definitely not too big on the idea that you or some of my friends might be reading this, but it is what it is.

I could have moved my blog, but that would be cowardly.

My encounter with you has brought on a rush of emotions and reflections. This include my life here, my work, my family and who I am. Yes you have been my muse, simply because I have been so knocked over by you. Even the best writer needs a muse. If you have taken any offence on your part, then I am indeed sorry.

So why should I stop just because you happened to be reading it? Because you think I should or because you think I could? Neither way. That's absurd. I am amazed that came out from you, I expected something more sensible really. Maybe you are creeped out, annoyed, or simply thinking lesser of me as a person. Whichever the case is, I still will not alter the translation of my thoughts to words here. That will be lying to myself.

These are conversations with myself, you don't have to be part of it. Simply look away.

And if you are thinking I have been writing all those stuff these past weeks just because I want you to see them, think again. This is not a ploy. That will be pathetic.

And if I have accidentally boosted your ego in a sick way by worshipping you so hopelessly, then I am indeed sorry for us both.

What I have written here has always been as honest and verbose as I could possibly handle, as I have myself to answer to ultimately. No one has to read it, I don't care.

I don't have to check through all my past entries to know that I've been consistent in my tone, be it on my life, my friends, my trips or even the hurricane. In any case, the last entry was hardly about anyone but myself.

It is never just about you.

I am not going to deliberately start fabricating happy, cheery stories or report on fluffy stuff such as what I am wearing today or how the new printer at work sucked. That would be total crap, and I am in no eagerness to please any reader here.

Have I single-handedly created a situation of monstrosity and absurdity between us? Maybe. Blame it on me, whatever. It doesn't matter, really. I wish we could take it from here but again, it's not up to me. I have been putting myself in the losing position right from the beginning. I have come to realised that. I am not going to wallow in self-pity that's for sure, and I have discarded all crazy hopes. I will get a grip, I have to. But there will always be moments. And no, you can't tell me to stop on that one either.

If I have it my way, I would want to talk to you in person again, knock back some wine, and talk till we go blue in the face, like before. It could be fun, we could laugh it over or we could end up hating each other more. Either way, it sure beats communicating in this uni-dimensional manner. It's damn sad that we have to resort to this.

So you have read everything, and now you know much more than you ever should. I don't know if we could ever be cool again. I don't mind either way, I let it slide. I've got nothing to lose anymore, since I was in the losing position right from the beginning by being so smitten by you. I conceit defeat.

So yeah, it is your call, dude. Not mine. You have my number too.

Or maybe, just for kicks, I should say I am so tired now, I am loving the feel of my bed, and I am so gonna crash and not wake up till at least noon tomorrow, and then feast on tons of greasy bacon and toast with eggs. Maybe such useless info is easier on the casual reader's eyes, and maybe you might find it amusing too.

After all, conforming is always easier isn't it?

Take A Squint At This View

Physicist Richard Feynman wrote in his undergraduate lecture notes almost 50 years ago that "all things are made of atoms, and everything that living things do can be understood in terms of the jigglings and wiggling of atoms". But really, with all due respect, I can't say I do agree with that statement though. I certainly don't see how human behavorial traits could be merely explained by atoms, and it is made even more complicated by the fact that every individual differs from the next. We humans are never straightforward like that.

The essence of his message holds true though, it seems that in structural biology, we derive atomic positions, and then postulate about the jiggling and wiggling conformational changes, atomic vibrations, adjustments of functional groups, electrostatic and van der Waals interactions, and electronic transistions to infer how a biological process occurs. But still, having decoded that, we will never understand why or how we feel the way we do sometimes, or most times even.

And hence so many great literary works were inspired and churned out, just to shed a little more light on human emotions, and I just happened to be one of those who lapped up almost every piece of solemn work there is out there. Nah, I am exaggerating on that one, just Hemingway really. Movies and songs there are many, and I almost seemed to enjoy stewing in my own morose sometimes with all these sombre pieces of work. I find beauty in how we humans swim about in this almost sordid world sometimes, or am I just choosing to believe that this society we live in is indeed so depressingly squalid?

So how then, after the last quarter of a century, that I, this mostly moody and pensive person with a most convincingly bright and glowing outer shell, still find the motivation and hope to go on? To continue striving, searching, wishing and waiting?

This comes the part where I really think is impossible to explain even at the molecular and cellular level of JT's anatomy.

Science is supposed to explain everything, or so I naively believed when I embarked on this path almost eight years ago. Almost everyone in our family is blessedly cursed with a gene that will muck the brain up completely. I thought I would understand it eventually, and maybe even find a cure for it. Well, I still have not won a nobel prize yet, so that pretty much explains everything, doesn't it?

Many will tell me "your eyes say it all, JT". And I s'pose they do. Happy eyes they are not though, always sad and pensive, or so I have been told most of my adult years anyway.

Your eyes are the windows to your soul. I have not been a very happy person these few years I must say. Last summer was one of the happiest periods I could recall, and I don't think I have the fortune to revisit that anytime soon. I will always recieve mails from friends from a little while ago. They still want to hear about my child-liked wild life. I just recieved another today. That lifestyle is something I will not be revisiting either. No doubt it cures my boredom and may even provide many glossy Kodak moments of JT, but I will still have the same pensive eyes no matter what. So why bother with it?

I will not tell them anything, they won't understand. Neither would anyone understand or even believe that JT is finally wanting more than just bright lights, flash clothes, swank spots and fleeting encounters with random strangers who would provide nothing but short-lived happiness and gratification. I want to read a good book from the beginning to the end, and then re-read it all over again and again, like a piece of Salinger's great work.

I would rather have sad eyes than souless eyes.

Is It You? The only Japanese song I have ever liked. Been listening to it constantly for the past five years. I never knew the meaning of it and I could never guess from the tune either. Such is the awkward beauty of this song. However, this morning, on the seventeenth day of this August, thanks to a friend's translation, I finally know the words. Maybe I don't need to know they are actually such strong, sad words, but I do now anyway. And I am glad as hell no one is looking into my eyes now. In any case, this song is certainly what inspired me to write this entry today.

And so my eyes will tell everything, and my outer shell is just conceptual, it serves no purpose at all, except, it makes it a little easier on other's eyes. One day, someday, they might be miraculously transformed into a pair of gleeful, bright eyes. And no, my eyes still won't lie, they will tell you that only someone could do that, not something.

Till then, as this blog could tell you, I am still waiting for my rocket to come.

Prettiest Friend

Title of a song by Jason Mraz. It makes you think a little, it gives a little hope, it's sweet and silly as hell, but I can certainly relate to it in a crazy way, especially the first verse, hair, hats, confrontation, lessons learnt and all. It goes like this,

"This is what I look like today
And I'm trying not to pull out my hair
I'm trying not to show it
'cause I'm far too shy to grow it back there
That's probably why I like wearing hats
There's no denying I'm deferring the facts
Avoiding confrontation
Lacks tact in a situation
Behind every line is a lesson yet to learn"

Contract and residency package signed, sealed and delivered. There is no turning back now, thy name is thy virtue.

Missed work for two days in a row last week. Plus the weekend, I had four days off. It’s a willful act, but I guess it was necessary. Everybody needs to remove his mask once in a while to take a breather.

With minimal sleep and maximum waking hours, those four days seemed longer than they actually are. It was time needed to regroup and to get a grasp of everything.

I have been depressed, too sick in the mind, weak even. I am not proud of how I have allowed myself to spiral downwards like that. I haven’t been sleeping well, hardly eating anything, drinking and smoking too much. I was too honest with my emotions and words, not only once but twice. I deserve a tight slap for that, two even. I may wince or cringe when I thought about what I said or what I have written here, but I am certainly not going to take anything back.

Why should I when I was just telling it like it was?

Even dad could tell me that I will only get myself injured majorly by investing my feelings so completely. I know that too, but that’s me and I will not change that one bit. I may risk getting myself hurt again but why should I be so cautious? I don’t believe in holding back or denying my feelings. Such feelings should never be measured or practical like that. Self-preservation is one thing, having a heart is another.

I grew up dissing anything that is mushy or corny or overly sentimental, but now I am the one who is guilty as charged. Ha, how the table has turned indeed.

Anyone would say I've been weak and stupid, along the likes of a teenage fat chick who is all infatuated and desperate. Maybe I was a bit like that and more too. I am also a loser/sucker/dreamer all rolled into one.

But so what? It is what it is.

I've mucked myself over and been mucked over this time. I've always thought I am a good killer of myself but never by somebody. I've been wrong on that one too, dammit.

All these bullshit will stop. I am a sentimental person but I am never weak like that. In fact, it has stopped on Saturday already, when I actually crawled out of my hole to go to a party that I initially said no to. It wasn’t easy, being in the company of a big group again having to mingle and be friendly and attentive and all, but I did it and I had a good time. Felt like I have been ‘away’ for a while, and for the first time in months, I felt like I have landed back on earth again.

I still miss my friend. I truly do. In fact, I woke up with that shitty feeling again this morning, but I am not going to indulge anymore, and definitely no more moping around. What’s the point at all when I am the only one doing it? I should stop living in denial too. Everything changed since the very first time I opened myself up. I have been turned down, bailed out on, treated like a kid and all. I could write you off as one of those dogs I have met in my life but I won’t do that. No I won’t, although I should. After all, what I said has always been true and that will never change.

Those three simple words, once said, might actually be forever.

It is a scary thought, I know. But what do you do? I'll deal.

Clara says she still catches me looking out of the windows in that direction. I don't know if I am though. Well, what the hell can I do when my place is pretty much a glass box? I told her I am fine, I don't know if I am. In any case, I've spent enough time moping that's for sure.

I am not sorry either. Love is something that one should never be apologetic about. You only feel stupid, but never sorry.

I have never missed someone so badly too. So this is how it feels like.

The present has been returned. They call it the little blue box, but I might say it’s a little green box. Our silly little debate on what’s green or blue is all history now. It’s hardly funny anymore. I have wanted it for myself, but still returned it anyway. Some things were never meant to be mine anyway.

As for the book, I will keep it for myself. Maybe Salinger wasn’t meant for you after all.

Walking past Hairy Canary, I got reminded of our first drink. I felt the stab but I stopped myself from thinking. I won’t even give it a second look.

As for all those times we have run into each other, it’s time to bring back the cynical side of me and rule them off as sick jokes rather than signs. I mean, we could bump into each other hundred times more but what difference would that make when I am the only dreamer here?

Twice today, the stranger standing next to me has the same name as you. That's a sick joke too.

I have done nothing wrong and I don’t deserve to be the one suffering. All I ever did was just being too honest and hopelessly hopeful, although I do deserve to be mocked at for being such a wuss.

Somehow, I still think that one day we'll be cool again, sharing a drink, going on a trip or simply just mucking around again. That’s a fat hope I reckon. I don’t even know how we could remotely do it without the awkwardness and all. Not so much on my part really, since I am the one who’s being put under the microscope here. I don't mind being the silly one, but just hate it when people think I am hanging around hankering after something. I won't turn love into hatred yet, that will be childish. I am just sick of it, is all.

Once I feel like I am selling out, I will just fuck it.

But that’s just growing up and owning up. Other than that I’m still the same skinny fool learning about love in a different kind of school.

The smell of spring is in the air again, if only our friendship could last into this wonderful season. It seemed like it was up to me, but was it really? Nah, I don’t think so. I almost needed a queue number just to see you again. That’s hardly considered a friendship at all. Plus the fact we live right across from each other, that makes it doubly ridiculous. Always going by your schedule? That’s bullshit too. I am better off without that really.

You run into something, you harbour all the fantasies and dreams about it, and then you put your heart and soul into it, and even foolishly wear your heart on your sleeves. Before you know it, reality hits you hard and the ending is nothing like what you expected. Of course, you are allowed to feel bitter about it, be all depressed or indignant even.

You could feel or say anything. Anything really, except for just one thing. You are not supposed to ask why. That, is something one should never do. It sucks, but that’s life. So yeah, welcome to the suck indeed.

"The ending of this song should be left alone
And so on 'cause the way it unfolds is yet to be told"

Up, Down, Turn Around

...please don't let me hit the ground. Tonight I think I'll walk alone, I'll find my soul as I go home. This is the second time I saw the same person when I was humming this song in my head. That person was my new friend then. Now, I have to say defunct friend.

Took the day off to take off my mask for a while, and taking the opportunity to have brunch with my housemates on a weekday. I haven't done that with them for quite a while now. Kwok wanted to grab something from Coles afterwards, and of all the Coles, he suggested the one in Port Melbourne, even though we were in Richmond before. First I saw the car. I was still deciding if I should bolt when I had yet another split second encounter with the owner of the car. I didn't have to look up, I didn't know why I didn't say hello, I didn't know what I was doing.

What are the chances, yet again? Why do we keep running into each other? This is getting amazingly incredible. It is becoming a bad joke even. I truly wonder how many times we have actually brushed past each other before we got acquainted. Has it been like this all this while I was in this city?

Kwok noticed something was wrong and asked me why. It didn't take a genius to figure that out since I was wandering around aimlessly in a nice trance. So I told him, and then another bullet hit me.

'I could tell you are still very hung up. What makes this person different from the rest? You are not a slut I know but still, why is it so much harder this time?'

I wish I knew. Maybe by knowing, I would have a clue on how to tackle it and move on quicker.

And then the scariest thought came into my mind. What if I never?

Finger still hurts like crazy. It takes time to heal, heard and said that a thousand times before already.

Ironed all my shirts at one go and cooked a big pot of risotto even. Finished half a pack and downed another Choya. I still haven't gotten my appetite back and everything still hurts.

You will move on because you are still so young. Yeah, whatever. As if a guy this age is not suppose to slip and fall and feel the pain. Being young doesn't mean being invincible. Here is the classic example. It is the young guy who is stuck in the rut now, not the older one.

And also, people assumed that a Singaporean who is overseas will never miss home. But then again, I used to think so too. Now I have no qualms admitting it that it's not true. I surprised myself even when I told a fellow Singaporean that today. I don't see the point in putting up that facade anymore. I have a regular job and I am drawing an ordinary salary. I share a house and I do public transport. Anyone is welcomed to join me if they think life overseas is a bed of roses. I am not being jaded here, I am just being honest, as always.

That said, we have always been taught since young that honesty is the best policy. That has always been one of my major principles too. Looking at my life right now, erm, one begins to wonder if that is really the best way to go.

When It Rains, It Pours

Another long day has just ended. Work with my American collaborators is finally completed, and we have managed to solve a problem that has been bugging us for the past ten months. So that was good, and we even went for a celebratory dinner. That was great too, although I was hardly in the mood to put on a smiley face yet again. The flow of wine helped heaps though, it made it a little easier. We were recounting over what happened in Houston last year when we were caught in the hurricane and the whole evacuation episode. It all seemed so surreal now, and I almost forgot that it actually happened. I s'pose I could be proud of myself that I managed to keep my composure and to make it through somehow amidst the chaos. It's really funny how I could recover from such an event pretty quickly albeit a couple of weeks of recurring nightmares, but when it comes to matters of the heart, I hardly have that sense of resilience in me.

Despite the progress at work, I am still hardly feeling chirpy here. Blame it on my inattentiveness, I got a huge gash across the same finger that I had that beer bottle incident a while ago. I was under the water cooling system and my finger was caught up between the coil. As if I wasn't feeling enough pain elsewhere in my body already. Everyone around me was pretty freaked out by the amount of blood and all, and I must say the pain was excruciating. So when it rains, it does pour.

And so it is almost appropriate that I am listening to 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me?' by Travis now. I shouldn't, because I get reminded of a certain someone. But then again, I get reminded of you by a helluva other things too. I heard 'Crazy' by Patsy Cline the other day and I was all overwhelmed with emotions, almost to the point of breaking down in the middle of the street. I paused and stared stupidly at the Pink Panther box set at a friend's place last week when I was going through his DVD collection. It was so obvious that he even noticed it. I was gorging on wasabi peas earlier on and I remembered you like that too. I don't even dare to listen to Depeche Mode anymore, at least not at the moment.

So to cite a line from the song Crazy, I am indeed crazy for feeling so lonely, crazy for feeling so blue.

You should be over your friend by now, so May said to me. Yeah, if only it was all so shallow and fluffy, that would have been really easy indeed. I wish it is so too.

You should be glad that work is going so well for you at the moment and that everything with my contract and work visa is all sorted out now, I was told. Well, since when am I s'pose to think that life is good just because work is good? That would be very lame, and very sad even. Life is never just about work, and maybe because I am such a firm believer on that one, that could be why I am on an incessant pursue of happiness in my private life.

I have been writing a lot here lately, but that always happens when something is bugging me. After all, it is never my style to whinge to people excessively. I prefer to just have all these conversations with myself. It may seem silly and pathetic even, but I can't change that one bit. To whoever may be reading this, it may be entertaining in a sick way to read about someone spiralling downwards, it is kinda like seeing someone in agony in Big Brother. But so what if that is the case? I am not gonna lie to myself and write about things that aren't true. This is a journal of Julian's life anyway.

Stasera scriverò un paragrafo per soffocare dentro un'esplosione. Senza pensare troppo alle parole. I miei problemi senza di te si chiaman guai.

Will be doing dinner at Madame Sou Sou later this week. That will remind me of my friend too. That's one dinner we never had even though we talked about it a few times. I know you will like it there, espcially the desserts.

My Own Little Bildungsroman

I have done it yet again, putting up an amazing show at work today. I woke up feeling shitty again and I can't seem to get those mental images of the person out of my mind. I had to go to work no matter what as I have overseas visitors coming. And with them, I had to visit almost every crystallography group there is in Melbourne and still had to work with them on the machines later in the day. Amidst all the handshakes and fake smiles and supposedly intelligent discussions, I was actually daydreaming half the time, mostly of a certain someone, and all the while wishing I could just collapse and die. Professionalism aside, it would be utterly crazy if I would have cracked in front of them, although that would probably be the most comfortable way to go. How do people do it? How is it possible that everyone seems to have no issues with their personal lives at all only to function so normally at work? Am I the only one here who is finding it so impossible and suffocating?

So the day ended up being very long and very late for me, and just as I was about five minutes away from my door, I got a call from Mark telling me I could still get a ticket to Mraz if I could make it over to Prince of Wales in ten minutes. With my pathetic takeaway of Nando's in one hand and hardly any spirit left, I actually said no to the offer, despite the fact that I am actually missing out on Mraz. It sucks, but that isn't the only thing that sucked in my life currently anyway.

Ended up vegetating in front of the telly and watching a really sombre episode of ABC's Four Corners. It was about public executions for adulterers, chastity breakers and homosexuals in Iran. It was all too sobering and depressing. Just imagine, if that was the case everywhere, how many times over do we have to die? I am no exception either.

Ran into my uni professor at the institute today, haven't seen him for about four years now. It was great seeing him again but I made a quick exit as soon as he was about to start on my 'good old days'. It is indeed real sweet of him to remember me so fondly as the menace and underachieving slacker in his class, but it was all too depressing for me to get reminded yet again on how carefree and happy and lively I was then, as opposed to now, like especially now, now.

For the past two months, drowning myself in work did help, even though I know it was a silly thing to do. However, it didn't work today. If anything, it made me even more depressed and lonely, especially when I was standing at the tram stop all alone in the dark and in the cold. I could have taken a cab I know, but that would not make a difference to how I was feeling inside. Having some change to spare and getting home earlier doesn't make me a happier person.

And yes, who was I trying to fool wolfing down that greasy dinner only to have it all out of me within minutes? I should have just stopped at the Coke and the ciggies.

And who cares if I am messing with my body again and maybe losing weight that I can't be sparing? Isn't it always the case that people around me worry more about my weight than I do myself? And yes, friends have been checking in on me to see if I am doing okay. I do appreciate their concern, but I just hate it when everyone thinks I am this mentally unstable and vulnerable boy. It's not so much on how they think of me, it's more on the fact that I hate to be so dependent and weak. It was my own doing that I crashed so badly this time so I should deal with it myself. I do talk about it and admit with no qualms that I am indeed down in the dumps but I deserve no sympathy at all. I may feel like a loser even but doesn't that happen to even the best of us? I may be finding an excuse for myself here but what other valid reason do I have to continue going anyway?

And how do I suppress that queasiness and the suffocating feeling and the lethargy I will feel tomorrow when I have to face my collaborators again? After all, I have a role to play and a job to do and I can't be having the luxury of being wilful and illogical. I certainly wish I do though.

I seem to be swinging from Holden Caulfield to Mrs Dalloway to Robert Jordan to Mrs Brown and then back to Holden Caulfield again. I will never be able to get rid of the Holden Caulfield in me that's for sure. I have long suspected I am actually living him out.

What Have I Done?

Floated around pretty much the entire weekend, been out and about in the city with friends and all, but I was only physically there, nothing more. I seemed to be lost in my world even amongst company. Everyone knew I was not entirely there, but was still patient with me. Maybe it would have been better if they weren't.

And as for Kwok, that night when you saw me in such a sorry state after my little episode, I know you were pretty freaked out. I am sorry for that too. We have known each other for almost ten years now but you have never seen me shed a tear. You were lost for words yet trying to cheer me up at the same time. What a fix I must have put you into, it was hell for you I know. Sorry that your housemate here is not in his usual self. I feel bad about it. I tried to make it up by preparing that seafood dinner and baking yet another lousy cake that almost didn't work. Maybe I should have just holed myself up instead.

Maybe I did it out of selfish reasons too. I needed to do something to keep myself sane, at least when I am in the house. In any case, I didn't do a very good job and I hardly had my usual appetite. So yes, that qualifies me as a bad chef and bad company too.

I may be considered a real wuss as well for telling dad almost everything. I know you have a lot on your mind at the moment, yet you were trying your best to sound me out. I felt like your silly little boy all over again. You hate to see me so miserable and I hate to see you get tormented by Philip too. I wish I could do more for you.

I just remembered today that amidst the whole crazy episode of wanting to leave and all, I was actually given a payrise earlier in the week. It's funny how such a thing could have slipped from my mind but I guess that's because it's so immaterial to me. In any case, I have never asked for more money as is never the absolute solution to everything in life. I wish my brother could understand that too.

But then again, I was also reminded that I have never wanted to study this much and being caught up in this incessant paper chase since I was never the type. Neither have I ever imagined working so hard considering I was such a slack back in uni and didn't even bother attending half the classes. And then yet again, I have never thought I would make it to uni ever since I dropped out from junior college. And then I would not have made it to Melbourne all on my own back then and being forced to grow up. And then maybe I would not be feeling so unhappy now having been bitten by reality time and again and that I am losing my hopefulness a little more each day. And then maybe I would still be the pampered little fat kid back home with access to all the money that I don't have to work for but maybe that wouldn't be such a good thing for one's character too. But then maybe I wouldn't have gone all serious and harsh on myself as my friends have noticed and in turn I wouldn't be having all these conversations with myself here with my silent companion otherwise known as my blog. And of course then I wouldn't have met a certain someone only to be all crazy and overly honest and vulnerable and weak and self-destructive now.

But then what does it all mean really? And what can I say? Other than it is indeed one big bloody fiasco I have created for myself. Nice work indeed, JT.

Rolling Down The Blinds

So I was right about it, I will wake up feeling that I am better off dead instead. There were those recurring dreams, and I must have woken up at least five times during the night, getting more sober each time and the ache creeping up a little more every time. So it was no wonder that I was feeling the dull ache in my heart in all its force now. It is just too hard having to face the day ahead.

So here I am now in my office now, everything seems like such an effort. Dressing up for work, walking to the tram stop, ordering my coffee and even reciprocating those morning wishes from my co-workers. How am I going to give a proper presentation later?

I just want this day to end, I can't wait to get home and hole myself up. I have decided not to go out tonight, I would rather be drinking alone. I can't even handle talking to my housemates I don't think. If they know, they will try to cheer me up for sure, which will only make me feel worse.

The bottomline is, I just want to be alone, for once.

I am feeling the strain in my stomach now after the coffee, and coming to think of it, I haven't had any solid food for the past twenty hours or so. I don't think I want to eat anything, I will probably throw up anway. I will probably have a ciggie instead. How many ciggies have I had these past three months and how many more before I can forget everything? It's silly and I shouldn't do it but whatever keeps me going now.

Today is the first time I have stopped reading my horoscope. It all seems so meaningless now.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I survived my talk, I don't know how I did it but I did anyway. The words came out of my mouth just as I have intended and they all made perfect sense somehow, even though I was feeling queasy all the while and thought I would not last for another minute in there. That was an amazing show I put up, I surprised myself even. People came up to compliment me and even my boss did too. I hardly felt any gladness at all but still had to appear so. That was one helluva act too. I forced a slice of tart down to prevent my hand from trembling, no shit. I was just about headed for the toilet to have a good barf when I decided to hold it down and had another ciggie instead. That miraculously helped too.

This is so typical of my stupid body to response but I still don't know what the fuck is happening in there.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is getting really stifling in here. I am vegetating here but I am hardly feeling at ease. Just had another coffee and a few more sticks. No food, I can't even bear to look at them. Randy was there, and he could tell from my tone of voice right away that I am as dead as I could be. I almost broke down in front of him, but my tear ducts were not obeying me again, thankfully. I will take a long walk home.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And 22 hours later, I finally managed to fucken bawl my hearts out. I got home, went straight to my room, sat on the bed, buried my face in my hands, and starting sobbing like a baby. I am finally crumpling to all that had happened these past few weeks, with my life and with my life as part of the family. It's just all too much to handle. And so, on this very night, I finally cried for myself, and not for characters in a movie or a book.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took up the offer of having a drink at a friend's place, which inevitably led to the very topic I was hoping not to touch on. There was the physical contact, but it's just wasn't the same. I hardly felt a thing, I felt uneasy even. I tried to translate the feeling, imagining another person was there instead. It didn't work at all, of course. If anything, I was more sober than I have been at any point of this crazy day. I am just damn glad it's late now and that I don't have to put up a show for anyone anymore.

Catcher in the Rye

So the existence of this little journal of mine has been revealed, and I did it out of my own free will. Blame it on a moment of impulse, blame it on the alcohol that is in my body right now, or even blame it on the effect of chain smoking, but what have I got to lose now? I have never meant to unravel like that but I have done it. I may end up hating myself for this but how can I ever pretend that it was not real at all? What is the difference between letting go of one secret as opposed to letting it all out?

It wasn't meant to shock, or to stir up any unncessary drama, but after knowing just one thing tonight, I know I just have to do it to prevent myself from imploding. Yes, I am almost blowing up inside. I can't stop myself this time. Why and why indeed?

I am sitting here writing again, continuing to drink myself silly. I badly wanted to call a friend, or dad even, someone who knows me well and someone whom I know will never misunderstood me, but I just don't have the strength to. It hurts too much to talk about it. Besides, I just have to deal with it myself. I rushed ahead to fall over the cliff. I am almost being punished for my honesty and my courage to fall for you.

I can read the email over and over again, but that will only make me spiral downwards even more. Who would have thought that I have never felt this way when I was younger but only now? I seem to be going backwards too.

I will wake up feeling really bad and sick and all tomorrow. It always happens like that. There seems to be a delayed response in my system. I feel sick now but I always feel worse when I wake up tomorrow morning. Who says that a night's sleep will provide the comfort and the solution? It's not true at all. I am almost afraid to sleep now as I know the comfort of alcohol in my body will be gone tomorrow, and that the pain will accentuate ten-fold or hundred even.

I have to give a presentation tomorrow. How on earth am I going to do that now?

Between knowing the ending and being fed posion, I choose the latter.

I even have your birthday present with me now, and I was about to post it out tomorrow, hoping it will arrive before the 14th. Does it mean anything now? I am doing it out of simple intentions, but it may be interpreted wrongly now. It was something from a shop that is very close to my heart, but even for that I may be misunderstood for being a materialistic and vain bastard who only cares about branding and packaging. Do not judge me for how I present myself or how obsessively compulsive I am when it comes to my looks. You do not know my past and you have no idea how much shit I have copped for being me then. I have no issues now but I do remember. I rather be vain than to be uncomfortable in my own skin.

I am landing on another planet once again. Everything will be different between us from here on in. Coping is a harder act than flying sometimes.

As for the book I was thinking of putting into the package as well, I suppose I will slip it under my pillow now.

Do I Know You?

So I pushed my luck one more time today, it's not so much on pushing my luck maybe, but more on being tired of running. I can run anywhere but I can't escape from within myself. So I use the bridge the I have always used to come home. So there was that split second encounter again. The corners of my eyes saw an all too familiar figure, but I just turned away and never even looked back. How many of such encounters do I need before I could fully be convinced that I should walk away, literally? Painful as it may be, I let it all slide past and took it that it wasn't real. It didn't feel real because nothing between us was even real to begin with.

I don't know anymore, but I do know timing is indeed everything. The right person may be presented to you, but it takes the right place and the right time to have a happy ending. It sounds cheesy, and all of us have probably heard this a thousand times over, but it's definitely not up to me to dispute that. I am becoming a firm believer on this one.

Was it better when I was younger, I was asked. I answered yes, but was it really? There are many different things to look at. I certianly did not have much worries in this aspect, but there were always other things. I never felt comfortable in my own skin and there was the issue of self-confidence and individuality. These two are no longer an issue now and more doors have certainly opened for me since, but where do they lead me? I didn't have to work then and that was good. But work is one thing that keeps me sane and makes me insane at the same time. A love-hate relationship certainly exists there. I am disliking my boss more and more that's for sure though.

So I have decided to stay on. I am not regretting on that one (just yet) but the recurring question is always there. This morning was one of those bad ones where I just wanted to stay in bed and not have to deal with anything. I am feeling the miss for a person too much. To quote from Hemingway, sleeping is good, because life tends to fall apart when one is awake. I am beginning to appreciate that.