Saturday, February 28, 2009

tomorrow, the precious saturday is wasted

and if i may add, it's not for a good cause, but for something hideously (un)necessary.

i am so angry. but only because i can't do anything to change it.

i believe i haven't been so unhappy for a very long time. but then, these days, pettiness gets the better of me, as with the mental scuffed knuckles.

At least, that's the reason proffered to preserve some semblance of (un)self-governance, but i don't feel any better.

i come up with such shit excuses.

she procrastinated @ 00:22 |

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

beyond tired

and to think we've not even reached the quarter of 2009.

she procrastinated @ 00:56 |

Monday, February 23, 2009

It's Monday...

SIGH

she procrastinated @ 01:15 |

Monday, February 16, 2009

rinse and repeat x 5 years, and in between, lots of commas.

I shouldn't be blogging now, really, not when I've lessons to prepare but I figured I need some time out. You know. Just some time to actually write, to construct, and then, to deconstruct and fall apart upon the realisation that I have only passed the time and not the trials. But I am getting ahead of myself.

And now, I don't really know what it is that I want to say, except that I wished I could just play Schubert, some Schumann, a little of Bach, and maybe, Berg. Little things that I thought I'll be able to do for the rest of my life, but now, no longer.

I am unhappy, because my profession has brought me to the furthest point from Music - for I am a Music teacher who has no time to practise piano. Sweet, confounded irony. Everyone tells me it's a matter of making time, setting little pockets aside for 'personal development' but it's not as simple as that, not when leaving work at 8pm constitutes an early night (bear in mind that I wake up at 6 and reach college by 720), not when you get home at 10ish so exhausted that you can't do anything or practise even if you wanted to (people need to sleep, and one can hardly get any rest if someone is drilling scales on the piano), not when you are paid and personally held responsible for the lives of little ones and you want to do the utmost best for them, as others have once done for yourself. And again, I am nowhere near that, nowhere near at all.

As always, if not for my treasured loved ones and friends and cute students, it would be mighty unbearable, for it's not even the gritting of teeth, but the glazing of eyes, as I put back the necessary scales which had once fallen, and are now irrevocably cracked. Just as how Thomasina remarked that one can't stir things back, I fall a little more everyday, burdened with, and by, the knowledge that I will, one day, no longer care.

she procrastinated @ 22:56 |

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

"One is wicked, because one see things clearly." - Beaumarchais's Le nozze di Figaro.

And there were phlegmatic souls.