13 October 2006
Driving home at night always puts me back in balance. It seems, that I’ve been caught up with this pursuit of A’s in school, that I’ve forgotten what it is like to be crossing my fingers and hoping to pass – which was what I did for most of academic life insofar. Hell, why do I even bother to be pressured into competing with the others now?
I was listening to a CD that I burnt that day, and one song caught me tonight. It’s “Running Away” by local band, Electrico. I do not have a penchant for lyrics, but this song made me recall how Jonathan Leong was singing it with so much conviction in one of the Singapore Idol shows. And how, while he lived out his dreams, I was cowardly driving and racing with others on this road I think I am simply not best accustomed to traveling.
A recurring thought: to drop what I am doing now and to pursue film school next year.
And over dinner with Boo on Monday, I told him, “Maybe I’d be really rich one day, (doing business), and I’d build this really huge performance/gallery/film space and the rental would be just enough to cover utilities. It’d be my contribution to this financially disabled arts community.”
I have been incapacitated by my indecisiveness so many times, that, this time, I know not if I should follow my instincts, or let this degree buoy
float me somewhere.
The future is exciting, to think about.
I love the perceptivity and sensitivity of my dog. She knows if I, or anyone else, were going to scratch her tummy or rub her neck; always in need of attention and love, but finding it in ways that are neither non-violent nor aggressive. She would bark at a distance when she senses my arrival, and would chase me as we are separated by a fence as I make my way to a bus stop. Sometimes, she would sneak out of the gate, and I would have to try to lure her back in: a real test of my patience. She would wag her tail and attempt to crawl into the house through the metal gate in the garden, while I studied at the dining table. She could; but she knew better.
She stretches herself, as she wakes from her nap to greet her similarly sleepy human friend, who had gone out to empty the trash, tired and drained from the constant self-reminders to be conscientiously at work. She lies down on the tiled floor, just beside the tyres of the parked car, as I walked towards the rubbish bin. She trailed me in this whole mindless process. She must be going back to sleep now.
Enveloped by the chill of the night, I remember telling Loo that dogs must have really short term memories. How else do they survive the lassitude of these monotonous days? And I started counting mine. 7 more weeks, and it would be a month-long break.
D woke up at 10/13/2006 02:08:00 AM [comment]
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