WARNING!

Track circuit interruptor ahead!
I think it's time you got out of bed!
The dream is done, it's as good dead.
You'll have to work, for your own bread.
There is no time to be afraid,
Do you really believe that you'll be paid?
To sit and lounge,
Around and around
And flirt with girls,
With really cute curls?
Just take the test,
And beat the rest!
And now you’re ready to join the cavalry!
To live the life of constant drudgery!

much ado about nothing

An update of sorts.

I'm currently thinking of a story to submit for a creative writing competition (a measly $300 for first prize, which I could really use). The keyword here is "thinking". I haven't written a single word, and the deadline for submission is tomorrow. I'm having writer's block just when I can finally put my penchant for prose to good use. As any aspiring writer would know, this is immensely frustrating. Maybe I'll write a poem instead, or just discard the whole idea altogether.

Caught the flu bug (again!), and this time the phlegm is really pissing me off. There's so much of it, I'm practically hacking the stuff out every two minutes (if only they were words I'm hacking out). In fact, a huge glob just flew out of my mouth while I was coughing a second ago. Like, literally, flew right out. (Where's the tissue when you need it?! Ugh!)

A friend of mine commented yesterday that I'm coughing like an old man, to which I replied, "I am an old man!" My palms are shaky, my fingertips are numb and my running nose's just completed a cross-country marathon. My brain's been sluggish for the past two days and the drugs, which are supposed to be helping, are knocking me out cold every time I take them.

Which should make me a happy man; God knows I need the rest. But I have reports due by the end of the week and there's no way I can focus when my mind has been rendered insensate like this! I feel like I'm stuck in limbo -- between a vegetable and a slab of cement -- where everything is moving oh-so-slowly and sleep is only a temporary amnesty. Damn it, I really don't need this right now.

On a positive note, I'm really into soccer again and I plan to play a game every week or so (the cigarettes are really slowing me down, though). Also, gym on Thursdays (just not this week) and a whole lot of running (to catch up with my nose) on weekends. That's about it, I guess. Should really get on with writing the story. Till next time, adios amigos!

PLAYLIST

God Save The Queen -- The Sex Pistols

Matinee -- Franz Ferdinand

Ride -- The Vines

Automatic Stop -- The Strokes

Self-Esteem -- The Offspring

*

suffer the little children

How do you keep out the suffering of others from the solitude of your mind? How do you prevent the invasion of the cerebral trespassers? I've never been able to. Like it or not, the demons will find their way into my thoughts, and sooner or later they will breed like the maleficence that they are. Black mariahs transmogrify into dreadful thoughts, and back again.

There is no 'straight and narrow path' in my head. The closest thing resembling a roadmap of my consciousness would probably be the streets of late-19th century London on its darkest nights -- where it's cold, filthy and delapidated; the murky alleyways carrying the stink of debauchery; the countless cobblestone pavements with dead-ends where the cloven-footed wait for the naïve and the gullible; where the children cry every night in their beds for fear of the unknown; and newborns die needlessly on account of mysterious illnesses still unheard of and a medical community too afraid to find out; where the taverns and inns serve absinthe to men sickened with despair for the loss of innocence and the God that failed them; as Jack the Ripper lurks in the shadows and delights at the prospect of meeting his next unsuspecting victim; where one false step could lead you to your very worst nightmare.

It's not a nice place to visit (and I wouldn't recommend taking a look; never a pretty sight). As I've said, the demons see what they like and in turn, seem to like what they see. And as far as I can tell, they have no intention of leaving. Uninvited guests overstaying their welcome (not that they were welcome to stay in the first place).

Looks like I don't need anyone to paint my picture black; I can do that all by myself! To be fair (while sustaining the metaphor), there are times -- and these are the moments I look forward to every single day of my life -- when the fog clears, and everything is not as bleak as it seems. There are times when lady luck smiles favorably upon me. Heck, I can even see the sun sometimes! And the London rain washes away the muck and the filth, and the streets become uncluttered; the malapropos transgressors of the mind swept away like the inconsequential flotsam that they are. The fumes, thick and nebulous, previously blotting out the sun from view gives way to an atmosphere of such forceful brilliance you would cry tears of joy so painfully sweet, and you begin to wish this would never end.

The air (oh, how I wish you could smell the air!) turns so fresh and breathable you could bottle an ounce and sell it on e-bay for a hefty profit, though you wouldn't because you'd want to breathe it yourself; air so crystalline clear you could see for miles all around you, and cut through the red tape and the lies that have thus far impeded you for so long. You could finally be free, unfettered by the emotional baggage of existence and the unbearable weight of reality and everything else that is undesirable to you.

And that's when you begin to realize that some things are too good to be true and, ironically, that's the truth. You tell yourself: "You're right… whatever happened happened to the dying children and the evil monsters of today? Whatever happened to the sorrow and the pain, the greed and the ugliness? Whatever happened to the problems that serve to lessen the dignity of Man and tarnish the name of God? Whatever happened to the endless cycle of violence heaped upon the helpless and the innocent?"

Why, they're still here. Hits me like a kick in the gut, every single time. They're all here. You see, the demons never left. They were here all along, hidden from view. And now they're taunting you, reminding you that you've just deluded yourself. Oh, why do I keep deceiving myself? There is no light at the end of the tunnel, at least not until we've all learned our lesson (and from the looks of it, we're gonna have to wait for quite awhile).

Don't they see it? Amidst the weapons of mass destruction and the serial killers, the warmongers and the paedophiles, the murderers and the suicide bombers? Amidst their indifference, and their cowardice, and their excessive indulgence? Can't they see they've chosen the wrong path, that somewhere along the way they've taken a turn for the worse? Can't we? Whatever happened to the sanctity of life and the ideals of our forefathers and the virtues of humanity we agreed upon?

The only thing I've accomplished here is to remind myself again that the children are still suffering, and I have done nothing to mitigate this. Sadly, that is not good enough. And I don't choose to pretend that it is. In the words of a man much smarter than I am (by the name of Eugene V. Debs),

"Years ago I recognized my kinship with all living things, and I made up my mind that I was not one bit better than the meanest on the earth. I said then and I say now, that while there is a lower class, I am in it; while there is a criminal element, I am of it; while there is a soul in prison, I am not free."

I am not free. And I am not one bit better than the meanest on the earth. And I'm probably laying this too thick, even by my standards. I guess this is what one would expect from a manic-depressive insomniac with too much time on his hands (hell, I've got class in the morning). Anyway, I'm practically writing this for myself (closest thing I'll get to therapy). I'm letting it all out. I'm keeping it together.

If you're still reading this, I apologize for taking so much of your time. Britney says "Get in the zone," and Madonna agrees. I can't seem to get out of it. I'll try to keep it short and light next time. More reader-friendly, if you will. And if I may offer some advice, it is this: one should never heed the incessant ramblings of a manic-depressive insomniac with too much time on his hands.

Oh, no! I've created some kind of paradox! Okay, okay, I'll stop now.

PLAYLIST

Praying For Time -- George Michael

Karma Police -- Radiohead

Seven Nation Army -- The White Stripes

Everybody Wants To Rule The World -- Tears For Fears

Fortune Faded -- Red Hot Chili Peppers

the lone ranger

time out

A friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend of six years. What would Spider-Man do?

ride my bicycle

A friend of mine fell off her bike and landed flat on her face. What would Spider-Man do?

truly fruity

what's in a name?

ten·chi mu·yo (tûrn-chē 'mü-yō) Pronunciation Key
n.

An expression in Japanese, generally translated as: "There is no need for Heaven and Earth."

----------
[From Japanese: ten (てん), heaven; + chi (ち), earth; + muyo (むよ), unnecessary.]

I came across the phrase while reading a graphic novel (for the fellow comic book connoisseurs here, I’m referring to the Mark Waid/Alex Ross magnum opus "Kingdom Come"), and it’s stuck ever since. Personally, I feel it appeals to both the rational and the emotional faculties of the mind; profoundly clever and sad at the same time. It is as much a matter-of-fact as it is a passionate outcry of sentiment. I like to think my writing works on as many levels. As well, part of my brain subscribes to the notion of the futility of having a heaven and an earth; which is just me being pragmatic rather than nihilistic. Or so, I choose to believe.

angel eyes

Through night and day
You'll find your way
I'm sure

The words you give
Will not deceive
I know

You've seen too much
Don't lose your touch
In here

Don't ever think
That I'm not being
Sincere

May god bless your heart
For the songs you sang
To me. . .

And god bless your heart
For the souls you saved
For free. . .

Through all your tears
You faced your fears
Alone

Looking in your eyes
Am I with my lies
Atoned

The sound of your voice
So lovely and poised
My dear

But it won't be long
Before you are gone
I fear

May god bless your heart
For the songs you sang
To me. . .

And god bless your heart
For the souls you saved
For free. . .

Where did you leave the things you loved
Are you looking in the back of your mind
In the memories of your treasure trove
For the things you can no longer find

Now don't despair, oh angel eyes
You've done enough, no need to cry
In god you trust, in him you'll find
Your paradise where you can fly

They shook the world and stole your pride
You stood your ground and pushed aside
The pain

So thank you, love, for sharing your soul
And thank you, dear, for making me whole
Again

May god bless your heart
For the songs you sang
To me. . .

And god bless your heart
For the souls you saved
For free. . .

caveat emptor

The results are out.

And I didn't do too well. Whichever way you choose to look at it, passing two out of four tests is not what I'd call an achievement. And I'm in a dour mood right now, because everyone else managed to score in the paper (Microcontroller Technology) I did very badly.

I feel stupid.
To quote Kurt Cobain, "I think I'm dumb, or maybe just happy..."

Serves me right for studying on the day right before the tests. In fact, I only studied for MCT for twenty minutes on the train ride to school. Which is no excuse, but machine language is all Greek to me, anyway. Fuck this bullshit, I don't need it!

I did well enough for Human Factors and Error Management (scored 82% for the paper) and OK for Engineering Mathematics II (if you consider 67% an OK grade, and I do) which should offset the sickening feeling of failing a test or two. But it doesn't.

I should have done better on the other paper, on Aircraft ServoMechanisms and Electronics (I got 47%, man! Woo-fucking-hoo!). I should have done better on every single one of those papers. I don't want what I get, and I don't get what I want. In fact, I hardly deserve to get what I want. It would be nice, though. If anything, at least I'd get to satisfy my insatiable ego. Maybe next time, huh?

"Most of all, there is a caustic shame for my own stupidity." --Scott Turow

PLAYLIST

The One -- Foo Fighters

Crazy Times -- Jars Of Clay

This Is The New Shit -- Marilyn Manson

Fight Test -- The Flaming Lips

Punk Rock Rebel -- Millencolin

in my own prison

Сергей Максимишин ©

[addendum]

As a footnote: I consider myself immensely fortunate to have a hero who has never failed me, and if indeed she has fallen before, has risen to even greater heights of eminence. She more than anyone else is the kind of person I strive to be everyday of my life. The be-all and end-all (in some ways, quite literally) of so many around her, she gives and never asks for anything in return. A pillar of faith and strength, she is resolute and unstinting in her dedication. Possessing a heart of gold so loving and tender, and yet truly a force to be reckoned with. But this is a story for another day, which I will tell.
(I promise!)

we can be heroes

We all need heroes. But they hardly exist. And the ones that do fail miserably at some point or another in our lives. These heroes fall, and they don't rise again. It is an inevitable fact that these pseudo-exemplars will crash, and bring you down with them. Tina Turner once voiced her frustration by insisting that "we don't need another hero", perhaps for fear of facing yet another disappointment.

We find heroes both in fiction and in real life.

Unless you live in fantasy-land (of which I was guilty before, but not anymore), the former has this fundamental disadvantage of being fake -- a fabrication, a sham, a hoax, an artifice, a ruse, a deception, a make-believe illusion conjured by manipulative writers intermittently high on drugs projecting their personal ideals and doctrine into fictional characters, simultaneously belying their own inadequacies. There is a term for this: terminological inexactitude (in other words, "faking it").

We don’t want that because they don't work. They satisfy your craving for escape; a pointless exercise in cognitive dissonance. They last, sometimes for centuries, but they don't work. Does 'Lord Of The Rings' inspire you to lead a better lifestyle, to do good and strike evil to the ground? Maybe for a day or two, until you realize it doesn't work that way -- you don’t have incredible foresight to predict the future; the cavalry doesn't arrive at the most opportune moment; the best intentions usually make things worse; there is no one willing to sacrifice their immortality for you; the world is not defined in black and white; you don't have a sword sharper than your enemy's; and sometimes you can't even see your enemy.

Finally, you have to succumb to the fact these feel-good stories of unflinching honor, dignity and justice are just that -- feel good stories (with a contrived ending to boot). Deconstruct it deep enough, and fiction is nothing more than entertainment -- a flight of fantasy on the trajectory of imagination. Are you willing to base your hopes and dreams on fictitious beings, and fictitious events and fictitious things? At the whim and fancy of a partly-deranged storyteller with an addiction?

Real-life heroes, as I've said, barely exist; too far and too few in between. So let's make a pact. Let's sign a binding agreement on the veneer of our conscience for all to see. Let us create real-life heroes, by being heroes ourselves. Let us be the best that we can be, and achieve a level of transcendence for others to aspire to.

Talk is cheap and everything is easier said than done, but look to the stars and step forward to be accounted for. We'll guide each other every step of the way. We'll make it a conscious and collective effort. We'll use real-life heroes as a stepping stone to further our cause. We'll try not to disappoint. It won't be easy, and we'll definitely fall along the way. But we will make it count, because we will rise again. We'll start today, so spread the word. Today will be the day the heroes prevail.

PLAYLIST

Highway Song -- System Of A Down

Minerva -- Deftones

New Pollution -- Beck

Man In The Mirror -- Michael Jackson

Stairway To Heaven -- Led Zeppelin

these days

Wake up to the smell of coffee
Though no one was making any
Is this a TV world I live in?
Where nothing's where it’s been?

You take a chance at romance
You don’t know where you'll dance
Stray cats burn effigies
In screeching melodies

Take all your sorrow
And let them ride the wind
Maybe, baby, you don't have to sing...

Open the window
And let your heroes in
Maybe, baby, you don't have to dream...

Remember all of yesterday
Don't give your mind away
The things we've said were magical
Now show them to the world

You wake up as a passenger
Your whole life's just a blur
There's always something in between
And nothing's what it seems

Take all your sorrow
And let them ride the wind
Maybe, baby, you don’t have to sing...

Open the window
And let your heroes in
Maybe, baby, you don't have to dream...

of dice and men

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main... (A)ny man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."
--John Donne

a day in the life of...

a bum.

Clocked in a total of four hours of sleep in the past two days. My circadian rhythm is totally out of whack, as it's been all my life. On the lighter side, if I keep this up I might be able to see God in a day or two. Maybe we could play chess and compare notes on life and philosophy. Perhaps He could show me the way around, and help reaffirm my faith in Him (and vice versa). And maybe, just maybe, He could finally prove to me that He exists. I know it sounds silly, and that even if it happens, it'll only be a hallucination. But I think I really need something like that right now.

Breezed through a test this morning. At least I think I did. Aircraft Systems Maintenance Practices. (Gesundheit!) Not exactly something you'd want for breakfast, but it was OK. Slept through the remaining half hour, so it was OK. Not too sure about the other tests over the past week, though. The results will be out in a week or so. More updates as they come.

My younger sister has decided to continue her studies in London, as she wishes to pursue a Degree (and obviously a career) in Medicine. Her first semester there starts in January 2005. This is splendid news! Everyone should have a chance to see the world at least once, and to live through and experience the world is even better. She, more than anyone I can think of, deserves this chance. I am glad she has the drive and ambition to go through with this. Hopefully, she'll make the best of it and not forget her older brother when she's rich and famous!

A single academic year at the college she's been accepted to amounts to £7,300 in tuition fees alone. (Yes, that is in English Pounds, if you were wondering.) Registration and miscellaneous fees cost a further £1,500. And that's not inclusive of accommodation, living expenses, etc. This is bad news! My daily allowance will probably be cut down by more than half to compensate for this. I need to find a job, fast! She better not forget the sacrifices her older brother will have to endure! She better be rich and famous!

You know I'm kidding. She has the verve and the will, and that's more than enough for me. I'm more than happy for her. And if I'm a little jealous (which I'm not... just yet), it is in a good way. She'll introduce me to the English babes when we get to visit her there. (She better!) We'll go watch the hustle and bustle of Trafalgar Square, swing by London's West End for an opera or two, travel on the Underground to Paddington Station, and maybe meet Mr. Blair at No.10 Downing Street for tea. Put on the telly and see ourselves on TV!

Enough itinerary for one afternoon, ya think? Turrah!

PLAYLIST

I Wish You Were Here -- Incubus

Suspicious Minds -- Elvis Presley

Linger -- The Cranberries

Closing Time -- Semisonic

Building A Mystery -- Sarah McLachlan

the bipolar anomaly

Think woodland and faeries,
Pink flowers and strawberries.
Then think of me and the ladies,
Making lots and lots of babies.
This doesn't make any sense,
But no point sitting on a fence.
Go crazy or stay sane,
Dead end or one-way lane.
No sleep till dawn,
All day just yawn.
Now study for the test,
And gather all the rest.
To show that you're a god,
A reason for being so odd.
Inversely proportional,
And highly delusional.
Semi-intellectual,
A crackpot individual.

olympique mayonnaise

Witnessing the explosive return of Ruud Van Nistelrooy to top form was a blast. It's been nine months since we've seen him this good, and most of it was spent watching him being sidelined with injuries. I must admit I kinda lost faith in him for awhile. My mistake. The predator is back, and clearly in need to whet his appetite. And once Wayne Rooney and Louis Saha recover, Fergie will be terribly spoilt for choice. Bottoms up!

gridlocked

I thought this would be a good idea.

Now that I'm here, I'm not entirely sure what to write about. I had second thoughts about publishing my thoughts on the Internet. First and foremost because I was against the idea of spending some time of my day to write about my day. Everyday.

Granted, most well-adjusted people write entries into their personal diaries to reflect upon their experiences on a daily basis. First point of contention: I am not a well-adjusted person; I've never had a personal record of events in all my twenty years of existence. Second point of contention: a personal diary is private; this is as public as it gets.

Which brings me to the other reason why I was apprehensive at first. Why the Internet? Do I need an audience? (Do I have an audience? Now that virtually everyone has a blog, who has the time to read? We're all busy writing!) Am I too caught up in my own illusions of grandeur to examine the possibility that, in fact, no one might be the least bit interested?

Does it really matter? As far as I can tell, I'm not looking for an audience. If you just happened to stumble across this weblog (at the very least, I'm pretty confident it wasn't intentional), you're more than welcome to read my foolish rants! And thank you, by the way! So sweet of you to stop by! Feel free to inadvertently chance upon my incessant ramblings again! No, really! I don't mind! We'll have sweetcakes and tea next time!

Who knows, this could prove to be cathartic for someone as anal-retentive as I am. I've always needed a creative outlet of some kind so perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, this will suffice until something better comes along. In the meantime, thank God for small favors. Plus, if this doesn't work out, there's always the "delete" button.

Anyway, if you're in for the long haul, welcome aboard this rollercoaster of mine. It's going to be quite a ride, satisfaction guaranteed*. And if you wish to post a comment, or share your weblog, drop me a line (I'm new to this, so be gentle). In the foreseeable future, we'll be covering hotbed topics like religion, procreation, politics, semantics, love, poetry, and all that jazz! You've been warned.

Hey, would you look at that? I've found something to write about...

* Not really. But the kettle's on, so it won't be long till we have some tea!

PLAYLIST

Jumper -- Third Eye Blind

Put Your Lights On -- Santana ft. Everlast

Erase & Rewind -- The Cardigans

It's Oh So Quiet -- Bjork

This Mess We're In -- PJ Harvey ft. Thom Yorke