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1.41pm :: Mon, 8 Apr 02
np: Savage Garden - "A Thousand Words" / mOOd: worried
Why is it that I can never bring myself to stay committed? For some reason I have this uncanny ability to attach myself to something (or someone) so irrevocably, unseparatingly, and without question - and then with the slightest change in situation, circumstance, obligation... everything crumbles around the pedestal I built and it's always the same thing all over again... Someone left me behind once, maybe it's time I stopped leaving others. Someone smack me the next time I latch onto something new...
11.21pm :: Mon, 8 Apr 02
np: Hamasaki Ayumi - "Signal" / mOOd: complacent
To break the awful monotony of my blog and its poorly written rantings, I'll say that at this moment in time I am incredibly disillusioned, disfigured, disoriented by recent events. I am basing my whole week around what could happen next... But I am excited...for once I can sort of look away and say that I am actually truly happy. Even though nothing's happened yet - and I'm not sure if it will - every tormenting second of waiting is waived by those next irreplaceable days...
Dear God, where did you come from?
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Thurs, 4 April 02 :: 12.35pm
np: DDR 5th Mix - "Moonlight Shadow" / mOOd: .
I know I'll never understand: It's not like I don't want to - I really, truly do; it pains me that I can't. Have you ever had that feeling of wanting to belong? ...I guess everyone has.
And of not belonging?
I hope I don't come off as dramatic, or self-pitying, or egocentric...I'm trying desperately to stay within the boundaries of moderation. Really...and I'm trying to reflect without digging up skeletons or rubble, stupid things I've done and caused, and without offense to anyone. I'm trying to stay away from too much parallelism (I've already done it twice), and ambiguity (see page title)... And from anything desperately Asian-American. Unfortunately I'm afraid this is what this rant is about...
Five years ago, with the proliferation of the internet, I set out to explore the Pentium 100 sitting in my living room. When I stumbled onto a music BBS (complete with Java applet chatroom) I joined a community of much older music freaks who happened to frequent that board. We didn't do much, except talk about what went on in our daily lives, which was heavily superficial but, to me, seemed like a remarkable form of personal interaction. And it wasted time, so it kept my mind occupied with things other than Nickelodeon and busy work given by brainless middle school teachers...
I was 12 at the time, and used the handle "Daisy". I still have all their screennames, but didn't write down the URL.
A year later a "friend" introduced me to ICQ and IRC, where I met people like myself, students from SE Asia (among other countries) who were interested in a rather popular boyband of the day, and we gathered in an equally popular Undernet channel devoted to their name. I used ICQ to talk to these people and some friends (I had since started high school) and eventually the internet became the force that pulled me into the most intimate of personal interactions...at least, much more personal than the ones I encountered in real life. I led a reserved life until I began to chat with friends I actually knew, and then then boundaries began to blur.
Since then my attraction to the virtual world has taken over. Everything we do here is governed by AiM or MSN; everyone's afraid of staying things out loud and any intimacy in real life, so we've all resorted to sitting in front of our monitors playing games and keeping awake - I haven't slept very much this week, or eaten breakfast or lunch since Sunday. But the internet, in the words of the Cardigans, "kills me, it keeps me alive..."
And also in Cali, I've taken a frighteningly strong interest in Asian-Am studies. Everyone's so segregated, and I never really understood the culture here till recently... Sadly, I think we all know why: We all try so hard to cling to something that is remotely familiar, even though it might not necessarily be something we personally know. Deep inside, we look at our roots and wonder what could've been...what once was. I see East Asia and wonder if I can ever be there, in the drama of Seoul and the superficiality of Tokyo, lost in the mechanics of Beijing, swept up by the ruse of Hong Kong, and finally deposited back in KL... Five years ago, I wrote a poem entitled "The Homeland"; it read like a poorly-written immigrant poem (though I intended to write a poem about an alien, a three-fingered, hollow-eyed grey thing that had only the intelligence to stand on its own two feet), and I'll never forget the unenthusiasm with which my parents responded to it. I never really knew what they thought, but now I don't think I could ever ask. Sometimes with "progress" it's unfortunate what you have to leave behind...
Not that I'm not thankful for what I've gone through, of course.
To my friends, this is my lament; this is me...
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