(Stale) Peanut Butter and (Decomposed) Jelly

So I've been putting this off for as long as possible. Writing in my blog that is. Don't even know why.

No actually I do. Firstly, no one reads this blog because it's DEAD (which is my fault). Secondly, I don't know where to start. It's like I'm not exactly at the peak of my creative cycle (it's NOT as regular as the menstrual cycle sadly =D). I hardly even know what I'm writing right now.

But then again, you (you being the hypothetical person who reads my blog) might ask, why am I blogging now if I'm lamenting at the same time that I can't? Well that's also coz of a couple of reasons: I'm completely, utterly bored. Sure, I could be writing the article for the newsletter but I don't feel like. And with writing, at least for me, it should come naturally. If it doesn't it's not as good. And bad writing, especially MY bad writing just kills me. Second, I was just compelled to come online and blog. Like, I didn't even know what I was doing. Usually I click on the msn messenger icon and logg in first to see whether there were any interesting people online which, nowadays, doesn't happen much (maybe it's coz msn doesn't really appeal to me as much as it did before). But today I went straight to safari and went to www.blogger.com and now here I am, stumbling through a blog entry.

I know what they mean by writer's block now. Writer's block is HORRIBLE. Trying to describe it does not even BEGIN to come close to actually feeling the block. It's like being completely unable to express yourself. Think of a person who loves to talk but then, is one day, rendered mute. Think of a person who's very life is music but then, is one day, rendered deaf. Think of a soccer player who's just been told that he can never play soccer ever again because he broke his legs.

It's like that. I hate the feeling. Of course, I'm not feeling it on that level, probably because I'm not a full-time writer. But it just scares me. I mean, if this affects me so much now, imagine how dependent I would be on myself and my talents when I grow up and start working! Is this how being old is - being unable to do what you have been doing for your whole life?

Maybe I'll have to change my answer to that question that people like to ask each other: Work for passion, or for money. I've always said that I would work for passion. But in the end, if it's all just going to stop, just like this sentence.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm doing engineering instead of political science or journalism.

Morbidity is definitely NOT GOOD when you're all alone at home.

In other news, I'm off to McGill (it's in Montreal, Canada for all the hypothetical dingbats who didn't know and who are going to read my blog). I'm really quite excited. Sure, I have those worries about how I might not fit in. But c'mon, it's a big place. I'm sure to find someone as zany as me there.
I really hope I do. Else, university is going to be terrible. I need a fellow pigeon wherever I go.

After a Really Long Time...

Blogging is like swimming. If you stop doing it for a really long time, a time in which you have changed, matured, evolved, transmuted, and then you start again, despite your misgivings about how you're going to be able to write like you did because you're afraid of what you might say or you don't really want to see what you're actually thinking about in front of you in black and white, now that you're a different person, the words come naturally, very naturally in fact.

But I'm still at a loss - what should the sequence be like? Should I start with the most apparent - my upcoming exams - or should I start with something else - the fact that I'm sad that there is an end to every single thing in life? Or should I just talk about everything and nothing? That would be an interesting topic to talk about with someone.

I guess I'm just being really random because...well because of certain things that I don't really want to talk about...not because they're not something I would want to talk about under any circumstance, but because I don't know what they are. Existence is certainly disquieting at times.

But if I had to put my finger on it, I guess what's causing me to talk this way is my fear. Not pure, primal, unadulterated fear. But anticipatory fear; fear of the unknown as we so adequately put it. What's to come? It was all very nice to merely talk about it with people, research about it on the internet, learn about it through various secondary resources, filling out forms and condensing my entire life history to a few blanks on several sheets of paper, writing essay after essay, draft after draft. I thought that was exciting, exhilarating, life-changing. But now I Don't Know what is going to happen to me. I Don't. I am not in total control of my future right now and that is scaring the BEJEEZES out of me. [Where does that word come from anyway? I mean, which country? And what the hell does it mean?].

I want to know what is going to happen at this moment. What will happen. Will I make the right choices? Am I going to make the singularly most devastating choice in my entire life by doing what I will ultimately end up doing?

I only know this: I am going to be in a completely different place 4 or 5 months from now (depends on where I go). And I am going to have to adjust, go with the flow - all of that. Whether I like it or not. Whether I'm scared or unsure or unprepared for an independent life in a place I have never lived in (unless I end up going to NUS).

I am such a coward. It's really difficult to hold your own especially if you don't know where you're going to have to do precisely that. Shakespeare is so right: The waiting interim is definitely worse than the outcome or resolution.