June 26, 2008

Learnt a couple things today that I thought I should write down. You never know what might come in handy one day.

1. In Singapore, talking cock = talking nonsense - credit to the girl who likes pink elephants.
This apparently is will come in ver useful to me when I head in that direction in a few weeks time. Additionally, I am supposed to be practicing my Singaporean accent. So how? Can, la.

2. Technically, you can marry anyone, it doesn't make much difference - credit to the person I had coffee with this morning.
Conversation came up because I mentioned that I found it shocking that so many people stay married for as long as they do. Surely someone would've "accidentally" thrown a pot at someone and killed them by the fifth year of marriage or something? According to this person, "feelings" that people associate with "love" fade within about two years, and it is pretty hopeless to be looking out for the "butterflies in stomach" feeling in potential partners. Thus, according to this person, as long as the other person is semi-decent, and you semi-get along, you might as well get married.

3. Stoke's law: Don't penetrate girls that are under 18, cow - credit to an interesting fellow in my course.
This will probably only be understood by chemical engineers, or those familiar with Stoke's law. However, this is surprisingly very useful. Was able to answer a number of questions after learning this. Hopefully it will prove useful tomorrow as well.

You learn something new each day.

Today I learned three.

Little Miss Pity.

There once was a girl, this girl's name was Miss Pity.

As you could imagine, this girl had lots of issues. First of all, what sort of a name is Pity? She would often introduce herself, saying, "Hi, I'm Pity". The stranger would quite innocently reply, saying "Pretty, did you say?" And Miss Pity would have to shake her head, and say, "No, Pity." Yes, pity... in more ways than one.

That's just the name though. Miss Pity had plenty other things to worry about. You see, she was an actress - this was her job. And how she was good at her job. Most people in her local town had seen at least one of her plays, and news had spread even to nearby towns that there was a rising star nearby. Yes, people were starting to come and see her from afar.

The interesting thing is, though, although Miss Pity was a brilliant actress, people generally liked to see her in a very narrow range of styles. In particular, they liked it when she played humorous roles, such as a crazy clown, a talking chair, a dancing leopard...

Miss Pity by nature did not understand humour. It was not something she had much exposure to at all. But, for the sake of having bread on her table, she learnt it. When performance time came, she put a big smile on her face she juggled, she danced, she made jokes. Yes, Miss Pity knew what she had to do.

But as soon as the applause ended, as soon as the curtain drew, Miss Pity's smile would fade. She would strip off her costume, crying in pain. She would then run, naked, down the dark and narrow alleys, all the way home.

The thing is, Miss Pity didn't know humour. Miss Pity didn't know fun. She could pretend and laugh and clap and scream, but that's all it was - pretending.

Miss Pity gets home, lies under her blanket, and cries herself to sleep.

Meanwhile, the crowd at the theatre slowly makes it's way out, praising Miss Pity for, once again, another brilliant performance.

It's like being in love.

Not the good kind. Not the happy-ever-after kind.

No, rather, it's like loving someone who doesn't love you back. It's like loving someone who isn't right for you. It's like loving someone who doesn't believe in love.

It's like being in love because it's unreasonable. All logic in every neuron in your brain tells you that it doesn't make sense, that no, you are in fact wrong. But the emotions are too strong, the feelings are too overwhelming. You can't hear your brain no matter how loud it shouts.

It's like being in love because it's painful. It hurts when you think about it. It hurts when you talk about it. At the same time, you want to think about it. And oh, how it helps when you talk about it.

It's like being in love because it seems never-ending. Many around, most who mean well, say "time heals", or "just give it time". But whether the other party reciprocates your love, you beileve that this love you have, this love you feel, will last forever.

No, I am not in love. Far from it, in fact.

But it's like being in love.

Truly, madly, deeply.

Release.

Seriously.

It's like. WHOOF. BANG. Let's just punch the living daylights out of you, right here, right now. Sweat-oozing, saliva-dripping, blood-splattering punching fiesta.

Oh, what fun. Oh, what joy. Oh, what release.

The problem is, the fiesta is just in my head. The problem is, the anger is internal. The problem is, I can't externalize it. Don't know how.

Anger at yourself. Anger at the other. Anger at the situation. Anger at the world.

Don't know why I bother. Seriously I might stop bothering... right... about.... now.

It all starts in the upper back.

It then creeps up - spreads throughout the shoulders and creeps up the neck. From the neck, it proliferates like an unstoppable plague; it penetrates all parts of the head, terminating at the brain.

Stretch your arms behind your back - give it a whack. It's still there.
Lift your head high - bang it hard against the desk. It's still there.
Take a deep breath - run into the wall.

HIT. BANG. POUND. SLAM.

It remains.

Hollowness.

Not Emptiness.
Just Hollowness.
A.Big.Concavity.Of.Nothingness.
Someone.make.me.feel.
Someone.make.me.feel.something.
It feels hollow.