So that is it. Another wonderful personality leaving the Conservatory to join National Service, with much pleasure and joy. This is to Clarence Lee, his wonderful performance on Wednesday night. The person who treated me like a younger brother, was always a listening ear, and dear me, how we shared so many tips and notes during the Ettlingen trip.
Unbelievable it may sound, but we spent hours practising on each other how to be gentlemanly and how to show respect to the opposite gender. The best way of greeting a girl (who was incidentally a hotel pillow), how not to stutter when talking to girls, how to warm the room immediately with a brightening smile, both Clarence and I discovered slowly. Sure, tons of laughter filled the room as I started jumping on the pillow (who was incidentally 'the girl') and erm, pseudo-wrestling.
I've not been blogging much because I've been spamming practice on the piano. Juries is next Thursday, and I'm heading straight to my doom. Ponning school just to practise, and then still cannot make it. I want to switch to composition already, if I can do it. ZAD is getting on my nerves by denying she's damn godly good, but then again if she just quit piano I think I might just get all my self-esteem back. Which is not possible because she's not going to quit anytime soon. She's going to reserve all her Math skillz and Piano skillz for herself.
Is this turning into some resentment? Never knew I could hold that much against a girl. She's just more organized and focused than me. Like all people are. Like all girls are. Right?
Anyway I've been having questions about religion. Questions, doubts. My friends would probably have seen me with this yellow book. I don't feel like talking about religion now, because I have a rumbling tummy. But what, what shall I eat?
Right yesterday Yanjie and I decided to sneak down at 11pm to have dinner at the 247 Kopitiam behind. Wasn't the case because I was the only one who had dinner. I had a breakfast set after my dinner (yes, tea with eggs with toasted bread). Slept at a fantastic time of 1. Carpenters music in the background.
My life would be very much complete and fulfilled if I bothered to do my RJC homework. I don't. I don't want to do it. I don't feel like doing it. I can't do it. I just want to go to school and drink tea and discuss matters with my friends. I have had enough of proving to people what I can do.
I have to prove to NUS people, and then I have to prove to RJ people. Why bother myself? Because I have to. Because it's my future. Because it's our future. There are dreams I want to accomplish but not before I fulfil all these requirements. You love them so much you want to do it for them. You want to do everything for them. They don't have to know you are. Just go do. Just do it!.!
Maybe I should turn off the fan. I'm shivering.
There have been several changes to the house plan - the study room is officially Yanjie's room. My room is exceedingly cluttered with all the books and scores from my yester-years. If you want to see what Jonathan Shin played when he was 6, there it is. They're all there. And it all seemed so recent, just yesterday when I had to feel as though there were an egg under my hands, and I couldn't let the egg crack.
Mathematical equations lying under the mouse.
She was playing with stocks and
shares again, just like my dad. Stop trade now, screaming in my face, flapping in the wind. Red. Trying to write like Carol Ann Duffy. But.
Failing because this is my blog. I did. I wrote the words. I wrote the words.
Repetition. Another cheap way to imitate the words.
The words she wrote I wrote. Not understanding. Why so deep? Why read
so much when an elephant is an elephant, and a spaceship
is a spaceship. Does it look like one? Like anybody else's?
It does. The shape and the words. I wrote the words.
Repetition from a preceding
paragraph. Alliteration. Surprise I didn't continue with another word starting with A.
Aa. Bb. Cc. Sure, Lim would have asked him to Google it but we didn't. Could
have been talking about the mouse when I wrote red. The
ink maybe? Nein. You read too deep. But I never said it was the mouse. I wrote it.
The words wrote me. I wrote the worte. Scratch your head,
bewildered-
Your mum.
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