3-Plus Weeks To Exams

Obligatory monthly post, go!

I'm well. I took the plunge a few days ago and finally, finally bought an air ticket somewhere, just for myself. For the past three years I have always managed to sabotage (consciously, subconsciously) my own travelling plans - I cannot even begin to mention how many times I got myself riled up, got others riled up (sorry!) and ended up not going instead. Multiple reasons for this: money anxieties, guilt at self-indulgence and frivolities, fear of going outside my comfort zone, fear of regrets.

If I were left alone to these issues I would have dismissed travel as being outside of reach for people like myself. I would have been relieved at the guilt of not doing much with my life when I have the chance. I would have closed off tabs about places I wanted to go and carry on with my life with no issues whatsoever. But I was lucky to have been surrounded by go-getter types - the types who would make plans for themselves and to go ahead with it. I have been looking at them in envy (and antagonism, maybe) of their spontaneous nature and their circumstances in life, which enabled them to pursue whatever they please.

Over time, I came to learn my dissatisfaction had less to do with others, and more to do with myself. I have willingly placed shackles over myself, and grounded my desires to a state of mediocrity. If I truly wanted something, and if I had the means of doing my best in pursuit of it, I truly had no excuse to not do it, to cower in fear of the unknown.

So I did it.

Afterwards, I could not stop myself from going through the worst-case scenarios. Why did I do it, why did I do it, why did I do it. I spent the best part of yesterday in wariness and regret, trembling over the the fact that I was actually doing it. You may snort at the unnecessarily overblown reaction to the mere purchase of a flight ticket. To me, it presented a scary prospect - going somewhere on your own accord, on your own effort, not having others to support you in case you run yourself dry. You could be the driving force of your ruin, when you can perceive that there are so many ways things could go wrong.

But I have slept on it since, and I'm beginning to look forward to it. Iku yo!

Ganbarimasu!

To have antagonised hardships
and always starting by looking at the simpler ways to go about.

I began looking at things as troublesome chores
and found routine in giving up any notions of trying.

My only possession was reliance on others,
barely pushing through on their good graces.

But what claim had I, for myself?

I have nothing to be proud of, nothing to show for myself,
no effort of my own, no personal accomplishments.

Ceaselessly I trained a weak disposition, frail resolve, self-loathing.
To the point of losing every ounce of earnestness
and not remembering when it was gone.

More admirable I might have been, when I was the idiot
who foresaw humiliation and failures
but ploughed on for lack of deliberation.

I have come for enlightenment and returned with soul rotten by leisure.
How degraded is a pride infested by complacency?

Jangan Menyerah

Don't get discouraged.

Don't give up after you get thrown back to the bottom.

Don't be frustrated.

Don't be afraid of failures.

Don't decide that you're done with struggling.

I'm Going Parading!

Look at him sitting there with his hooter scraping away at that book.

Well, what's the matter with that?

Have you no natural resources of your own? Have they even robbed you of that?

You can learn from books.

You can, can you? Sheeps heads! You could learn more by getting out there and living.

Out where?

Any old where! But not our little Richard. Oh, no. When you're not thumping them pagan skins...you're tormenting your eyes with that rubbish.

Books are good.

Parading's better.

Parading?

Parading the streets...trailing your coat, bowling along, living!

Well, I am living.

You? Living? When was the last time you gave a girl a pink-edged daisy? When did you last embarrass a sheila with your... cool appraising stare?

You're a bit old for that sort of chat, aren't you?

At least I've got a backlog of memories. All you've got is that book!

Stop picking on me. You're as bad as the rest of them.

So you are a man after all!

What's that mean?

Do you think I haven't noticed? Do you think I wasn't aware of the drift? You poor, unfortunate scruff. They've driven you into books with their cruel, unnatural treatment... exploiting your good nature.

I don't know.

Sure, that lot's never happier unless they're jeering you. Where'd they be without the steady support of your drum beat... that's what I'd like to know.

Yeah, that's right.

And what's it all come to in the end?

Yeah, what's in it for me?

A book.

Yeah, a blooming book!

When you could be out there betraying a rich American widow... or sipping palm wine in Tahiti before you're too old like me.

Funny, being middle-aged and old... takes up most of your time, doesn't it?

You're only right. Where are you going?         

I'm going parading before it's too late.

Danny Boy

So very beautiful.

Random Post

It's hard to resort to the usual shortcuts for research essay writing when:

1. the marker is the writer of the authoritative textbook on that subject, that more than half of your arguments are derived from his writings.
2. the other possible marker is the recently retired High Court judge (coughGummowcough) who was on the bench for the constitutional case upon which your research task is formulated.
3. the other names that feature prominently in your essay work in the same building as your marker.
4. you almost failed your mid-term assessment the last time the marker (see number 1) marked your paper.
5. you only spent a week seriously working for this essay.
6. you stopped being on top of the readings halfway through the mid-semester.
7. there are not many people taking this course, so you know that the papers are likely to be marked by the same person. This means that your sorry excuse of an essay will be directly judged against the others'.
8. the lecturer (see number 1) has told you early on that the course is difficult, and that you have to work hard for any chance of doing even remotely well for the assessments.
10. you're 12 hours away from submission.
11. you have yet to finish your essay and the current state of citations is horrendous.
12. you have yet to proofread it to make sure that it at least makes sense.
13. all you want to do now is watch a pointless video and go to sleep!

A Hard Day's Night

To write that essay or to watch this movie?

To make a responsible choice for my future or to dwell in far-fetched fantasies?

To be miserable now and relieved later or to screw all else and regret later?

To digest mind-numbing publications and put out something that will appear half-assed (they're dead grotty!), no matter how hard I try...

... or to watch John, George, Paul and Ringo in a train and a room and a car and a room and a room and a room?

The latter please!

# I'm kidding. I'm too much of an uptight scaredy-cat to do otherwise. But watching them get chased after by girls will suffice (for now).

I'm Not Crying

This made me laugh more than I should.

Helplessness Blues

Very seldom do you find a song that says exactly what you have been meaning to say.

Zinger

"I usually don't tell people about these things, but I'm telling you because you need to be told about it"

"And the others?"

"I'm not telling them because they're capable of finding out for themselves"

Thanks, mate...

Ouch.

Thoughts From Home

It has been quite some while, hasn’t it?

I’ve been on an unintentional hiatus: an idyllic life, filled with summer readings and catching up with family. In other words, I have little to show for my holidays.

Here we are then, the penultimate third year. Law school folklore usually tells of how changed law students find themselves to be at this period: youthful idealism of public service takes a back seat in favour of corporate ambition, optimistic can-do attitude traded for realistic expectations. 

I’ll have to say that I am not much different in this respect. Mind you that his is not necessarily for the worse. 

I was afraid of changing before. Being a bit of a Pollyanna made me all too glad to use my naivety as a shield from fervent pessimism. This shield was sufficient, apt even, to grant readiness to venture something beyond my sheltered existence back then. But I could not now pretend to being the same person, having been exposed to and internalised beliefs and values which contradict those which I held to be integral to my identity. 

I have not lost my goodwill. I have merely traded it for experience, and I would not have had it any other way.

But those are ancillary matters. In the real world, anxieties about my social passivity as well as the pragmatics of post-graduation are abound. My ire with the former is that spurious thoughts for a more contributory existence are usually frustrated by my innate tendency to overthink and dismiss mental complications, leaving me enervated. As for the latter, I am simply terrified. While part of me is eager to desert theories for practice, I have seen how difficult it is to find a desirable place in the professional world.

But that’s another day’s worry. The bigger question has always been: why does it matter? Why should I bother? Would I end up filled with regret in the end, regardless? While asking oneself the same question might bring some answers one will fervently stand by, those same answers may be to the ire of others - some post-Pollyanna individuals, even. A bleak perspective, isn’t it? You may cherish your mind being your own, but ultimately you’re all alone in there

Ah, but now, three weeks away from end of holidays at home is not the right time to worry about these things. Till then!