As I was walking to LKCSB this morning, I found myself remembering the post I wrote while in Campus Green, then remembering how I'd expressed that I wanted to be a tree.

Curious that my imagination of a tree was one right smack in the middle of a large forest, away from the human populations, safe, protected, watching.

The trees on the side of the road I realised, have no such luck. Flanking the sides of the road, breathing in the dust and exhaust, day in day out.
Some of them would even need human help as younglings in order to grow straight to begin with. Thorough escape from the human presence.. would be unlikely, or hard to come by.

Even trees have it tough.
Even trees face favouritism from the fates above.
Even amongst trees there are comparisons, inequality, and poor luck.

19 January, Monday.

The trees of campus green. Are they indicative of all trees? Wondering that I've never wondered about it before. It started straight up, heading for the sky, stretching its desperate yet calm reach to grasp at the flakes of sun, warmth, and brightness. It started straight up- and yet time throws it off its desired path, as though its only sport was to undo all that, finding amusement in the way it struggles to stay upright. As though gravity finally rebelled against being ignored. They got their way, certainly they did. As they grow. The trees no longer seek the skies as their first and only end; they become relegated to the realm of horizontal growth. There is still a beauty in which its reach stretches, carelessly outward.

Is it bitter? The feeling of thwarted time and again, before giving up its struggles to yield?

Is it longing? The insatiable need to join its fingers with the rest of the trees, transforming into a collaborative network that sings its green.

Is it self sacrifice? The recognition of that which they want to protect, over their own ambitions.

Or is it all a mere dream? The dream of green. The dream that green holds more meaning as it does, existing.

I could cry from its beauty. The way the green turns solid and rigid with the oncoming dark clouds. The way the green is almost weightless, translucent and glowing as it frames the glow of the sky, in beautiful, random, dancing forms. As the tree stands with all its might, does it know likewise its power, its draw? Those glorious, glorious green. Those endearing, hypnotizing movements of light. Does it know with hiw much raw.emotions I sought it with, and was calmed by basking in its shade? 

With what had I come to resolve in the embrace of nature?

My faults, my flaws, my choices, my paths. I know you can't answer, I know it out of your realm of responsibility. Perhaps I will always only be able to use this as a hideout. 

The emotions rolled in like a storm- and yet had nno basis for it. With the last shreds of rationality I at least know that bitter tasting sense of identification as the music from Zefrank's social experiment spoke to the depths of my soul: that I'm not alone. That I'm walking on a similar road as a couple others, everywhere, somewhere else in this heart-wrenching dark world. I am not alone. 

No basis for it. No objective truth. The sole subjective reality so tainted, yet so powerfully real.

The urge to stab myself, draw the sharp metal across my skin to feel the loss of control, overwhelming sharpness of awareness so quickly jumping in. Emotions so irrational and nerve-wreckingly real.

Seeing things in the nothingness of black irises, seeing words in silence, filled and measured. 

The aall-or-nothing sentiment threatening to seize my consciousness.

What AM I doing with my life?

I'm seized by an urge to run from my incompetency. Run. Run. Run. And never look back- move toofar for wild thoughts of saving, liberation, freedom into either the loneliness of eternal black or a sun that never sets.

There will be consequences. Indeed, I already feel it- the prediction of what happens when there is no trade, nothing to offer the other party.

On the verge of collision with an iceberg in a one-man ship. 

Does one jump, or continue ploughing on? 

Does one close her eyes to savour the last of audible thought, or burn that with opened eyes and slowed moments? 

Labels: Deep Emotions, Vague Ponderings

Another unfortunate individual who passed away so suddenly.
I knew him not, but I can imagine the shock onto those who just saw him and talked to him the previous day.

Such a humongous pity.
If I could but sub his place.
Selfishly, but anyone living on would be better.
At least I'd escape from the crumbling shell of my person into oblivion.

Third day of school, and I have almost reached the end of my work week, almost entered every single class.
Creative Thinking with Lovell.
Political Science with Mibs, Sean, Lynn and Mib's LKCSP friends.
The BSI talk on the HEXACO model of personality with Lovell.
Technology and World Change with Lynn.
Leadership and Team Building... on my own.
And later, Peer Helping and Mentoring, with Bobo, En Chin and Gabriel.

It's kind of funny. Just Sunday I was panicking that I knew no one for real in my LTB, and worrying that having to start from zero, I create a negative impression... And surprisingly this is the class I leave feeling the best. It's amazing, particularly for a module that I was alone in. There were a few familiar faces from previous classes, but no bonds existing.

The Prof, Paul Lim. Somehow he really makes us feel relaxed, comfortable. He clearly isn't rigid at all- taking class timings and breaks as negotiable, yet having a rational backup for it, not because he too wants to slack. While acknowledging that leadership was hard to teach, I somehow sense that he has an active interest in seeing all of us develop as a person. Almost non judgmental, and acknowledging that different people have different backgrounds and thus he will try to help them better. It's funny- the class participation examples he gave of the 5 marks band was so clearly statements that had no added value. And yet, he seemed to believe that as long as we felt that that was us trying to move out of our comfort zone, it was enough. For his top bands, it even tried to encapsulate the progress and improvement that students put in to try to improve their class part over time.

This treatment seems too kind in the perceived cutthroat environment in SMU. It helps too that he's an interesting prof, candid, relaxed. The fact that he expects us and encouraged me (in my first class part of the sem ._.) to defend my stand and enlighten the class on some part of my argument which they might not already know... really made me warm up to him, in a sense. Volunteered as group secretary- I wonder whether that was a move to challenge myself or whether I overstepped my boundaries by stealing from the rest of my groupmates this opportunity. Nevertheless, I can't bring myself to feel too guilt-driven; I think that doing so will give me an added incentive to prioritise this module and to be more responsible.

It's only after I left the class and started reading up about Peer Helping that I suddenly realised once again that, somehow or rather, I managed to get so many positives to balance out the more dreaded modules this semester. That LTB and SSGS003 are so clearly modules that will appeal to me on an emotional level, and simply are just waiting there for me to open up my more sociable side. That these two modules will potentially help me very much, if I let them, for both my OCSP to Kenya and when I decide to apply as camp faci. Amongst others.


One paragraph caught my eye though. And it's undoubtedly something that I will need to work on for myself first. I have no illusions about how flawed I am as a person, though the specifics I need to be reminded at times for me to realise. The crippling dread with which I entered class on Monday albeit with Lovell which clammed me up and by no means endeared me to my potential groupmates, for example. The lack of confidence or assertiveness or ability to think on my feet for points I am not particularly passionate about which characterised my being mute through the first three lessons of the semester.

Sometimes I wonder whether it is possible that I help anyone given the problems that I am only halfway solving, only halfway in control of. Perhaps as of this semester, I shall pretend I can.

Ahh it's not fair to put so much emphasis on LTB and SSGS003 when I ought to credit the other three mods for its merits as well. For CT, what can I say besides the fact that I have Lovell in the class with me, and that the prof, Alan Tea, clearly knows his businessy stuff and I would certainly learn stuff?

For Pol Science, the presence of my Sosc camp group is a relief- the tension reduced and the fun element increased. Prof Colm Fox kind of just mumbles to himself and is rather monotonous, but I feel that he's a kind soul. Very accepting in terms of class part as well, though his arises from perhaps us being his first batch of students and he still has an open mind, and finding it pleasant that we give interesting answers to the study that so interested him enough to apply for PhD.

Finally, for TWC... I somehow feel that I would reasonably get along with Prof Chan Kay Min. Likely it is my bias, but it did help that he was interested in the MBTI as well and is very particular about the definitions of words plus is a grammar Nazi. Personally I'm led to think he is some sort of Ti user? That said his stance on not mollycoddling and expecting us to push ourselves to do class part regardless of whether we be introvert or extrovert and his clear expectations of no nonsense and no wasting time might make him a hard man to please. An even harder person to please if I have to obtain my As this semester, as well. To my shock and with the help of this ENFP, I am going to be grouped with an ISTJ, Lynn (ISFP) and another INFJ. I can almost start worrying about the inter-quadra conflicts between the two betas and two gammas. Considering however that group work seems very straightforward, perhaps we will see less values clash and I might get the opportunity to watch a duality in action, and dispel my worries about conflicts with deltas.

One of the posts I owed myself from 2014.

I had thought better clarity of thought would come with distance, when I had the liberty of reviewing all that had happened to me. With chagrin I note how poorly my memory serves, and leave the bulk of the words here as it had been written months into my work at Munch Saladsmith.

It is interesting how rationalising comes after everything. I'm not even spared the remembrance of my original intent when I applied for the role of Salad Artist/Kitchen Hand... Simply tired of meeting walls where I hope least to find it. A compromise was what I sought- to momentarily give up my ideal for the satisfaction of knowing that I am nevertheless doing something.

Isn't it frightening? It was the fact that everyone around me was actively searching for employment, getting out of holiday mood. It was not getting what I wanted, and not perceiving a means through which I could reach the ideal I had decided on.

But it has almost been two months since I first joined Munch. It has not been a complete waste of time. Not when I have a mind to consider and reflect. Not when I have eyes, albeit glazed and largely unaware. I only regret not speaking more in order to hear more- but I digress. First and foremost, I've met new people. Well, duh- but the significance is to me huge. After a protected environment amongst peers of RV? All these people, whom I would never ever have had a glimpse of, had it not been for Munch.

Rina.

My impression of her was that of her leaning over the chopping board as she prepared vegetables at a speed I cannot imagine attaining. By the first week it struck me that she was so relied upon, by the kitchen and by the front. Almost everything was 'Ask Rina'. Despite that it was so rare to hear her speak, for she usually showed through her actions and not words. Yet how soft spoken and gentle her voice was, when you actually got to hear it. I wondered why she didn't speak to the customers as much, frequently handing the plate to someone else to serve, instead opting to clear tables, attend to the kitchen. Krisha said I was automatic when I went to clear tables as she came to join me- indeed I wasn't, for that tendency didn't exist as strongly until I realised that as we busied ourselves attending to the customer's choice of meat, salad, Rina was the only one whom we relied on almost taken for granted, so consistently and uncomplaining as she did support work. Rina was by no means the person who formed my first impressions of Munch Robinsons, but now she is the one whom I have the greatest impressions of now that I left. How is it possible not to, when she was at twenty plus a mother of a little girl, hunch backed, hit once in a car accident and bleeding yet continued to work? The one who scrupulously wears the mask throughout the day when the rest of us only have it on at lunch hour? The one who talks least, does just about the most, and consumes nothing at all throughout her shift? I don't understand her. I don't understand what it is that she's sacrificing for, at the clear expense of her health. I don't understand what it is she thinks as she works without a break, the epitome of efficiency- as though a mental checklist exists, which brings her from task to task without her pausing. An enigma- one that I fear for, because she does not seem to have a notion of self perseverance or slowing down for her own comforts. Had someone a greater notion of her welfare I would fear for them less. I hadn't approached her much as I worked there, assuming introversion as she spoke little- it was after I was transferred did I hear, and when what I saw and heard wove itself into a more cohesive, yet more worrisome part of an unknown whole. I wouldn't have been able to see this character for my own bleary eyes.

Aunty Sophia.

From the very beginning of my meeting her, Aunty Sophia had intimidated me with her assertive and fierce tone... And yet it was with her that I learnt that beyond the harsh exteriors rationality can still exist. That sometimes people merely look fierce and act that part as a default to keep to the rules that she wants maintained for our own sakes, not her own- and beyond that layer of her person she actually, albeit gruffly, cares and takes care of us. Strict- but rational and caring at her innermost. It is no surprise either, in the end- she had been there for years, with Uncle Leong. How many youths have she seen enter and leave these outlets? The relationships are hard to build, but she still does care for us with her own means.

Uncle Leong challenged my lack of imagination in the sense that I would have never expected someone with his disposition to be able to work happily alongside Aunty Sophia. I was very very wrong. The two of them taking on two different roles in the kitchen, yet allowing them both to share and yet focus on that which they are most adept at... And somehow the two of them conversing in Cantonese for long periods, not to mention the degree of rapport. Really amazed me. Uncle Leong must have been the most amiable person I had met in a long, long, time... And Aunty Sophia's style much less smooth, warm and agreeable, and yet no lasting conflict existed. For that I am pretty envious, and amazed..

Eric and Arenel, the two most memorable people with respect to Munch Robinsons.

I will never forget how on the second day of my work, they informed me to take off my apron as I was going to rob a bank with Arenel. Honestly! Their sense of humour wherever possible was really quite shocking to behold, and yet despite the politeness and formality at some junctures they were still teasing and positive (or finding things to be teasing and positive about) through work. It was a mark of my lack of awareness of the world when I had to clarify with Krisha that they were both from Philippines- which was so obvious to her from the beginning, when I could only vaguely guess at the accent. Their service impeccably good, yet long hours they worked- honestly the rapport they built with the customers really convinced me that the customers would return if nothing else for the small talk and positivity of them both. Arenel having had an education specific to the food and beverage industry back in his home country that he was perfectly comfortable here was not surprising... Eric though, was a nurse before. It shocked me, since he was so bulky and muscular, but noticing how he was so fond of his daughter even through videos and images he received over whatsapp, it really made me admire how loving a father he is and would make.

Krisha.

It was highly fortunate of me to have Arenel ask her to guide me along on the first day. As compared to the other girls, she was sort of the middle point. I have forgotten their names but while Crystal was significantly more chatty and lively, the other girl, her cousin, was the stereotype of a reserved beauty. The latter being significantly more on task and crisp about correcting mistakes... Krisha was a middle ground in a sense, one whom I am fortunate to have in orienting myself around the place. In a sense she took me as one of them quickly and treated me likewise... By sharing with me tips on what not to do and what to do, and how to avoid getting specific stuff to do. When she noted that I was automatic in clearing the tables when the customers left, I realised that Arenel and Eric frequently only told me or Rina to do so- after which it became a norm which was easy to fall into because at least, then, I was doing things and could not mess up any orders from the customers. Yet Krisha pointed out that none of the rest was willing to do it. It surprised me, but I was definitely glad to have her help me along when I cleared the things thereafter.

It is funny that the observations and notes I draw from Munch Robinsons and Munch Downtown differ so much in its nature. In Munch Robinsons there was so much more conversations, in a sense, because there were so many of us girls and part timers. It was so much easier to notice things of individuals when there was more space and more freedom to work together, or as a team. However, of politics I am almost equally unobservant.

In Munch Downtown, I have learnt more about myself. Before, I already knew my ideals, where I want to be headed, what type of job and environment it is that I envision for work in the future. And with my first job, I plunged myself into things that were almost in direct conflict with what I wanted, where I would shine in... Munch Downtown saw me at my weakest, catching me in such a disadvantage of a sort I would never expect to be in again. But it is because I was plunged where I was weakest that I learnt about myself.

1. An almost gross inability to notice my surroundings in sufficient detail.

Frankly, I'm torn between surprise and gratitude that I've not received the expected degree of disdain for my stupidity- it was so prolonged I should view myself with disdain.

It probably sounds silly, but for all the scrutiny I give events and phrases in literature, for all the significance I can derive of word choice, I can't find the option of 'Perrier' on the drinks page of the cash register, only registering its existence two seconds after Eda pointed it to me. How I didn't find the option of 'add fruit' and had to ask Tommy for help. How I would swoop down on a quote from fiction- yet words they still are and I fumble when brought into the world of non-fiction real time.

And I swear: for all the design I put into sentence construction, I'm not exaggerating my degree of relief that my boss, my coworkers and customers alike tolerated me as I blundered around, visibly lowering efficiency. How two ladies in their twenties remarked to each other as I struggled with their discounts and change (dear heavens) that I was so young, as though inexperience could exonerate wholly all my inadequacies and inefficiency. But I am grateful- instead of frowning and remarking in that same audible tone how service was poor, that they tolerated me. More than one customer smilingly told me to calm down and don't worry, as I struggled with the cash register time and again. I want to hold onto that feeling and bring it forward.

2. How I reacted to a place that had me in serious disadvantage.

Strange dichotomies, but I possessed them all- awkwardness and formality, quiet and politeness I'm not sure people will have the opportunity to see soon. I wonder briefly whether such was the impression I would have left. It certainly isn't what people will get to see, not even at Robinsons- but for the lack of control I had over my physical surroundings I made up for smiling at customers, and for the my incompetence at small talk I made up for trying to be formal or polite.

That at least couldn't go wrong now could it? And where did that land me? Surely not chums with the rest- nothing near the way Tommy, Nai Jie and Eda could talk together, with that enviable vibe, that enviable comfort. No, I take it back- it seems as if all the conversations I'm involved in falls into three categories.

One, conversations which end quickly.
Two, conversations punctuated with long gaps of silence.
Three, conversations that are simply not comfortable.

I must say, my inadequacy in socialising is blatantly obvious. There's just something about small talk that I disliked and consequently never bothered enough to try to improve on it. And yet, to my shock, it seems like the only kind of conversation that existed. My lack of interest and thus awareness of the news became extremely blatant, and my lack of remembrance of artistes, singers amongst others made conversations fall through easily. When I tried to have more abstract conversations it seemed to end up probing too deep, making others uncomfortable with me. Yet on the bright side, it seemed as though they were always decently fine with me... And with Aunty Sharon I found it particularly much easier to talk to however- even if to an extent our perspectives and values do not end up matching, we got along sufficiently.

My experience at YES13 was enough to show me one thing- that I will cease to function when bombarded by information that I'm expected to remember or relay. Too many times I've met with the patience of people who calmly repeated themselves. This time, the rush is about on my part merely involves me speeding up, and yet I really don't function very well nonetheless. I really need to be grateful for the fact that in Munch Downtown all the people I have met with are genuinely willing to teach and willing to help. I feel bad in a way- I know that me being so scatterbrained in remembering means that they end up needing to teach me again soon, yet they do nevertheless. Such calm, patient teachers too, when I know that it is something about me that sorely needs practice.

Details are by now almost totally gone from my mind... Anecdotes about my interactions with them, the embarrassing situations I got myself into, as well as the anecdotes of the countless times the guys guided me along, as well as helped me with that which I'm bad at. I didn't notice sufficiently until Malcolm came along, and was expected to pick up that which I realise I was exempted too long. But of my interactions I ought to moralise further.

With Malcolm I realised yet again how poorly I reacted, because the comments he made grated on me so much as to render me, with my limited self control, uncivil, and for a time intentionally ignoring his more positive traits and strengths. Yee Shin reckoned I met my Conflictor... And I don't exactly doubt that. If we had started on a positive maybe I wouldn't have been so hasty in finding him someone who grated on me. The way he built rapport with customers was really great. It wasn't politeness, which drove most of the rest of us. It wasn't formality, which was definitely what drove me. It was more personalised, more casual... And definitely more effective.

Oh and it was a really strange experience when I saw my behaviour reflected to an extreme. I have forgotten his name, drat. He was very polite, too polite perhaps. Yielding, apologetic, eager to be of help, and I would believe, fundamentally kind hearted. An earnest individual... And yet somehow I realised then how I might seem to others, at least in my persona in Munch. Perhaps the perfect line I tried to walk would end up not being a perfect line without me having a personality rooted at the bottom of it. I'm rambling.

There was also that once that Nai Jie was irritated that day, and both Tommy and Eda noticed- I didn't, for he kept to his politeness, thank you, etc. Perhaps I should have noted that I didn't know Nai Jie at that time very well so his more subtle tell tale signs were missed by me. And yet I guess I was so used to anger being outward and obvious that I did not understand the scale of it... It also reminds me how poorly I am able to control my own appearance of anger or a lack of tolerance... Much to work on. And another thing I ought learn from my interactions with him... Would be to make sure to build rapport first.

That said on a deliberation of his person, Nai Jie seems to keep giving me practical advice. From modular origami, to it being okay that I broke a plate-he did before too and was glum the whole day, to telling me that I need to stop blaming myself and taking it too hard- because in NS you screw up so much that you stop beating yourself up for it...

Finally, though almost ignorant of the politics that exist... It really came to become obvious that the guys were exasperated and dissatisfied that Pei Pei herself could not deal with some of the moves and business decisions, orders and stuff that came in. She accepted them for business- her rationale was obvious. But when the boss decided to do so and it affected her employees, the bond had better have been much stronger before expecting it to be approached in the same manner. Sometimes the work being left for them to go the extra mile to accomplish bothered them.

And yet they did it anyway, fortunately. To be honest Pei Pei does try, and while there is added inconvenience to the staff she does help out. There is another thing though, about Pei Pei... While she, like Malcolm, does bother to go the extra mile to build rapport with the customers, there is something in her interaction with us that eventually made me kind of distrustful, even if as an employer she was very accomodating of my mistakes which I appreciated extremely. Her laughs did not reach her eyes, and her jokes... sometimes left an aftertaste in my mouth, particularly if I was on the receiving end of it.

All in all though, in the end, what stuck was that I left the bubble called RV to enter yet another bubble. Nai Jie was right- here it was okay, but when I got out to the real world-

I start wondering whether it is pure luck that I found another bubble to hold me- surely there would be places I went that could not afford having me stumble about. What would happen to me then? Or is my belief that this place is a bubble merely something arising from my lack of perception of the objective reality I never lived in? 

My musings when I wrote them two months into working left me with a degree of certainty that my F&B experience would come to an end, and hopefully sooner rather than later.

Is this the feeling of leaving the nest? The necessity which instinctively persuades swallows to fly south for the winter? 
Knowing that there is somewhere familiar you hate to leave, yet have to leave. 
Knowing that you could always choose to stay, and yet in order to stretch your wings opt to leave what is comfortable. 
Knowing that the impending frost would slowly creep up upon you, opt to leave for an unknown in which you can soar.

I suddenly better appreciate the distinction Lovell made the other day.

The differences between starting from negative, neutral and positive. I think I had seen no difference starting from neutral and positive, since everything was simply framed with different numbers. The only thing was probably starting with a negative, since one had to work to simply become a zero.

Now I better see it though. In my doing up the post long overdue, I am forced to acknowledge that unlike him I didn't start with giving someone a positive. They started as neutral, as zero.

And that made all the difference. Starting with a positive... It would have made a lot of difference.

Self-reflection:

Reflecting on the reason why I failed to obtain the GPA requirement, I first and foremost acknowledge that it is something I ought have pre-empted by doing much more this semester. I do not intend to justify myself, but instead to use this means to reflect on the strengths and weaknesses that my results suggest.

Class participation is one component that I did poorly in for 2.0 CU worth of subjects, namely, Introduction to Psychology and Management Communications, which would have gone a long way to improving my grades had I gone out of my way to class participate more actively. Tracking the same component, class participation, in another two 1.0 CU subjects, namely Understanding Societies and Business, Government and Society, I come to the conclusion that one semester down, I do significantly better in classes whereby class participation is graded qualitatively, instead of quantitatively.

This is not to imply that my Professors and Teaching Assistants in Introduction to Psychology and Management Communications only grade quantitatively and make no distinction for the quality of answers, but a reflection on how I seem to only class participate when I believe I have very unique perspectives to contribute. Given my class participation grades in those modules, I will make the effort to participate more actively in class and attempt to more profusely generate those new perspectives with or without the Professors creating an opening for it.

I acknowledge also that a better grade overall in my other components would have allowed me to make up for my inadequacies in quantitative class participation and allowed me to hit the necessary GPA requirement. Here, I must express that my finals grade across most of my modules were pulled down partially due to an exam strategy which, in retrospect, left much to be desired.

Given that group presentations was something that affected the whole group’s grade and was therefore something to take more seriously than my individual concerns, I had prioritised my group work and group presentations over finals revision until they were over. This worked on the presumption that my note taking through the semester set a good foundation for me to revise at full steam when I reached the last stretch before finals. However, due to the unexpected and unfortunate demise of my uncle, I found that my familial obligations left me little time to rest, and even less time to revise for finals with the intensity as planned. While that cannot justify my grades, what I see that I have to do now is to keep up a more consistent revision schedule throughout the semester in order to mitigate any unexpected issues that may arise thereafter.

After having met up with my Smuggles camp group recently, my inability to obtain the minimum GPA of 3.4 has become even more poignant. With the start of the second semester, I resolve to put in much more effort towards speaking up and working with a more conscientious schedule in order to uphold my end of responsibility for the opportunity given to me as a USP scholar.

With much chagrin I note that that there were scattered half truths pervading this mandatory self reflection...

Yes, my uncle's passing affected me. But its manner was much less tangible than I expressed it to be. My gloom had set in much more decidedly, before the sad event. His passing drew essentially even more melancholy thoughts...

I was not even sure what I was working for or living for at that point. Unfortunately, it's not as easy as I made it out to be, then, to guard against poor grades.

I suppose all I can do is to attempt shedding the plague shadowing me at this juncture come this Monday... And try to remember the need for me to thrive.

Family. Opportunities... And the duty to those who thought me capable enough, plus those whose funds allowed me this fortune.

I can't help but hear the whisper that I am not qualified.

First moments of 2015 and the first family quarrel has shown itself.

Really now, it's the times like this that make me once again feel that the turning of the years mean nothing.

In the end it doesn't matter at all does it?

All the fuss, and it's just another day, another problematic, disappointing day.

For what it's worth I know I am capable of a much more positive perspective. But right now, I just can't be bothered to.

It simply is the usual dark outside, if nothing else made darker by the fact that things will still continue thus regardless of the occasion.

Right now, I just want to hide.

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