(Backdated post: February 2015, published 3 June 2015)

RANDOM RAMBLES WEEK #2:

rebound/temporary love: fastidiously collecting fragments of broken hearts and assuming the unspoken duty of reassembling them. restorative intent. a healing construct that benefits the pre-damaged subject whilst inflicting increasingly poisonous repercussions upon the host. self-inflicted, and very willingly so. perhaps some were simply made to fulfil and assist the happiness of others. all perfectly manoeuvred and constricted.

continual need to be preoccupied 24/7 - brain fails to rest. hyperactivity runs into overdrive. give me work, let me work

threading on eggshells,…

the extreme extents to which one is willing to go in order to dodge the wrath of and blame thrown by others are perhaps reflection of the degree by which the individual is affected by the other party. why is it the opinion of the other matters that much?

where is the defining moment in which you realise the one thing you want to do for the rest of your life?

"It's such a dangerous thing to fall in love with potential. Doing so - whether it's a person or an entity - is basically a fast track to getting your heart broken." - Kate Shindle

In a bid to rid myself of writing inertia, I have been using Desktop Post-Its to jot down any journaling-worthy thoughts that I’ve had. Here’s the results of this week’s Random Rambles (every paragraph comes from its individual post-it):

acceleration is never optimum – quit rushing; hurried formation simply sets the basis for rapid disintegration. demolition. crumbling, things fall apart. the cynicism that propels the urge to slow the fast increasing intimacy of budding relationships often serves as the very stumbling block to its success; a pre-orchestrated demise.

'love' is a dangerous word. always the same – manipulative, elusive, beautiful. hearts are repeatedly mended before they are broken (once more). beyond repair. do you love me? somedays i don’t love me either. it is not my fault that subtle negativity at times presents itself as tragically gorgeous.

some people are only unbearably nice to you when they need something from you. fuck it, it's most people. yet i readily – ever willingly – fall prey to their antics, time and time again. compliance without resistance. and i will keep doing so.

complete sucker for terms of endearment. and the casually flippant distribution of insubstantial sweet nothings. the feeling of being specially singled out, however artificial or unintended, is comforting. and ridiculously addictive. (keep 'em coming, dear.)

desperate yearning for validation translates to unrivalled productivity/motivation. “desperate” - always loved the sound of the word; the rawness, the realness of the truth it contains. why must it necessarily be something bad?

virtual communication: the master source of modern anxiety. painfully tortuous and quietly deadly. slow, silent killer.

loving so hard that affection awkwardly manifests in flecks of hatred. it is not bitching; simply a pathetically desperate excuse to talk extensively about said subject.

from within, looking without.

wishing the good days are prolonged (please keep those shades of goodness) and the bad days are shortly bearable.

intelligence fluidity is so highly debatable. engage me in intellectual discourse –sexiness is the blowing of the mind.

locks are perhaps made to remain locked to the ones who ought not be permitted. there is nothing overly philosophical in the fact that i can fail to unclasp a basic 4-pin lock.

hypersensitive towards tonal variations; specificity of diction manages to make or break the passing days. "every word that he says is a dagger in me". both a blessing and a curse. awaiting incoming messages with bated breath; one tick is strangulation, two ticks death.

over-worked, under-paid, perfectly content.

Today is Valentine’s Day. I spent the good part of this afternoon settling laundry for Titoudao at the Drama Centre. And through it all, this is what I realised: Ultimately, Valentine's isn't about commercialized festivities; it is about the celebration of love. And love is the willingness to put in the time and effort to grow something - regardless its form - even if it means embracing the less attractive portions of the subject of your love. That pile of laundry I meticulously put away - that's simply an atypical manifestation of my passion for theatre.

As I was sitting at the DC Visitor’s Centre today whilst waiting for the clothes to dry, I finally had the chance to take in all that was happening around me, all that has happened around me in the past 4 weeks. I took in every bit of the rehearsal space, the colours, the magical sparkle that existed in the quiet serenity of the empty venue. The place that I had only formerly seen in photos was there around me; I was in that very place.

Everything feels rather surreal. Working for Theresa has honestly been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. It will take a whole separate (and lengthy!) post to detail the many things I have learnt from her and the priceless memories forged on this gig. But it is definitely a rarity to land such a job that I look forward to day after day, where waking up in the morning is made to feel a privilege instead of a chore. And I cannot begin to describe the feeling of gratitude which inundates me whenever I think about how fortunate I am to be where I am, and doing what I do. Not to mention, how many people are so lucky as to have their boss become a dear friend/confidante?

In that moment I realised, I was finally living the dream. Livin’ the dream. In that moment, I felt infinitely blessed. I am infinitely blessed. I am infinite.

--

Being out of school and in a non office/admin-based job has made me realize I may be book-(semi)smart but am street-(super)stupid. And here I am sitting at home on my day-off reading articles about psychosocial behaviour (ironically) in an attempt to figure out this utter lacking in terms of life skills, common sense and situational awareness. Why wasn't intelligence fluidity taught more effectively in school? (pushing blame like a classic bookish brat)

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

(Backdated post: February 2015, published 3 June 2015)

RANDOM RAMBLES WEEK #2:

rebound/temporary love: fastidiously collecting fragments of broken hearts and assuming the unspoken duty of reassembling them. restorative intent. a healing construct that benefits the pre-damaged subject whilst inflicting increasingly poisonous repercussions upon the host. self-inflicted, and very willingly so. perhaps some were simply made to fulfil and assist the happiness of others. all perfectly manoeuvred and constricted.

continual need to be preoccupied 24/7 - brain fails to rest. hyperactivity runs into overdrive. give me work, let me work

threading on eggshells,…

the extreme extents to which one is willing to go in order to dodge the wrath of and blame thrown by others are perhaps reflection of the degree by which the individual is affected by the other party. why is it the opinion of the other matters that much?

where is the defining moment in which you realise the one thing you want to do for the rest of your life?

"It's such a dangerous thing to fall in love with potential. Doing so - whether it's a person or an entity - is basically a fast track to getting your heart broken." - Kate Shindle

In a bid to rid myself of writing inertia, I have been using Desktop Post-Its to jot down any journaling-worthy thoughts that I’ve had. Here’s the results of this week’s Random Rambles (every paragraph comes from its individual post-it):

acceleration is never optimum – quit rushing; hurried formation simply sets the basis for rapid disintegration. demolition. crumbling, things fall apart. the cynicism that propels the urge to slow the fast increasing intimacy of budding relationships often serves as the very stumbling block to its success; a pre-orchestrated demise.

'love' is a dangerous word. always the same – manipulative, elusive, beautiful. hearts are repeatedly mended before they are broken (once more). beyond repair. do you love me? somedays i don’t love me either. it is not my fault that subtle negativity at times presents itself as tragically gorgeous.

some people are only unbearably nice to you when they need something from you. fuck it, it's most people. yet i readily – ever willingly – fall prey to their antics, time and time again. compliance without resistance. and i will keep doing so.

complete sucker for terms of endearment. and the casually flippant distribution of insubstantial sweet nothings. the feeling of being specially singled out, however artificial or unintended, is comforting. and ridiculously addictive. (keep 'em coming, dear.)

desperate yearning for validation translates to unrivalled productivity/motivation. “desperate” - always loved the sound of the word; the rawness, the realness of the truth it contains. why must it necessarily be something bad?

virtual communication: the master source of modern anxiety. painfully tortuous and quietly deadly. slow, silent killer.

loving so hard that affection awkwardly manifests in flecks of hatred. it is not bitching; simply a pathetically desperate excuse to talk extensively about said subject.

from within, looking without.

wishing the good days are prolonged (please keep those shades of goodness) and the bad days are shortly bearable.

intelligence fluidity is so highly debatable. engage me in intellectual discourse –sexiness is the blowing of the mind.

locks are perhaps made to remain locked to the ones who ought not be permitted. there is nothing overly philosophical in the fact that i can fail to unclasp a basic 4-pin lock.

hypersensitive towards tonal variations; specificity of diction manages to make or break the passing days. "every word that he says is a dagger in me". both a blessing and a curse. awaiting incoming messages with bated breath; one tick is strangulation, two ticks death.

over-worked, under-paid, perfectly content.

Today is Valentine’s Day. I spent the good part of this afternoon settling laundry for Titoudao at the Drama Centre. And through it all, this is what I realised: Ultimately, Valentine's isn't about commercialized festivities; it is about the celebration of love. And love is the willingness to put in the time and effort to grow something - regardless its form - even if it means embracing the less attractive portions of the subject of your love. That pile of laundry I meticulously put away - that's simply an atypical manifestation of my passion for theatre.

As I was sitting at the DC Visitor’s Centre today whilst waiting for the clothes to dry, I finally had the chance to take in all that was happening around me, all that has happened around me in the past 4 weeks. I took in every bit of the rehearsal space, the colours, the magical sparkle that existed in the quiet serenity of the empty venue. The place that I had only formerly seen in photos was there around me; I was in that very place.

Everything feels rather surreal. Working for Theresa has honestly been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. It will take a whole separate (and lengthy!) post to detail the many things I have learnt from her and the priceless memories forged on this gig. But it is definitely a rarity to land such a job that I look forward to day after day, where waking up in the morning is made to feel a privilege instead of a chore. And I cannot begin to describe the feeling of gratitude which inundates me whenever I think about how fortunate I am to be where I am, and doing what I do. Not to mention, how many people are so lucky as to have their boss become a dear friend/confidante?

In that moment I realised, I was finally living the dream. Livin’ the dream. In that moment, I felt infinitely blessed. I am infinitely blessed. I am infinite.

--

Being out of school and in a non office/admin-based job has made me realize I may be book-(semi)smart but am street-(super)stupid. And here I am sitting at home on my day-off reading articles about psychosocial behaviour (ironically) in an attempt to figure out this utter lacking in terms of life skills, common sense and situational awareness. Why wasn't intelligence fluidity taught more effectively in school? (pushing blame like a classic bookish brat)

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”