Farewells are draining

The packing is killing me. Sorting out all my uni paperwork is a gargantuan task and getting my finances in order is a big bitch. Fifteen million things on my to-do list. Then there's explaining to my boss that I broke her transcribing machine and left the last interview unfinished. I probably would not have enough time to do my Bondi to Coogee walk and go back to my favourite museums. I wouldn't have enough time to say goodbye to everyone either. That, or THEY wouldn't have enough time. This day alone so many people have cancelled I've already lost count. I moved heaven and earth to keep tonight free so I can have a nice dinner at home and spend quality time with someone I particularly wanted to bid farewell to, then I get that disappointing phone call. Story of my life. I think I should just spare myself the agony and just get on the plane without going through all that farewell jazz. I was never good with goodbyes anyway. My heart rips into tiny little shreds every single time. Note to self: do not get attached to people and places again.

Holiday from myself

If my current state of mind were a song, it would be that obscure one by an equally obscure band called Minibar. It's so obscure that I think there's only five people in the world who know it. It's basically about someone wanting to have a holiday from himself, asking for "some time away from being me". Well, isn't that precious? It even feels as if I wrote the song myself. I googled the lyrics and the last bit is totally reflective of my emotional state at the moment. I seriously need a holiday from myself. I'm so sick of being me.

Idiot

I amaze myself at how unbelievably stupid I could be sometimes. The last couple of days I have proven to myself that I am truly capable of sinking to the depths of extreme stupidity, it's not even funny. Now some relationships are strained, and it is entirely of my own doing.

I wanna ditch the logical

So denied so I lied are you the now or never kind
In a day and a day love I'm gonna be gone for good again
Are you willing to be had are you cool with just tonight
Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well

Put your name on the line along with place and time
Wanna stay not to go I wanna ditch the logical

All my time is froze in motion
Can't I stay an hour or two or more
Don't let me let you go

Here's to the nights we felt alive
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry
Here's to goodbye
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

5:05 AM

I woke up in the middle of the night consumed by the cold, a growling stomach and thoughts of someone. As we speak I am aching for human warmth. I am also experiencing a debilitating sort of hunger but I am just too lazy to get up and feed myself.

I'd really give anything to go back to those times when I could just ring someone in the wee small hours of the morning and the soothing voice on the other end of the line would just lull you back to sleep. You might even be sung to sometimes.

Loneliness is such a bitch. And I hate to be reminded of this while you're cold and starving in the middle of the night in winter. Especially not when you are thinking about someone who doesn't even give a flying fuck about you, or why you are friggin' awake at 5:05 AM.

Please please let me get what I want

Haven't had a dream in a long time
See, the life I've had
Can make a good man bad

So for once in my life
Let me get what I want
Lord knows, it would be the first time

Severe student's block

At this stage, I'm just going through the motions, really. This is the part where I dread turning up to uni. I have grown to despise every single paper and presentation that I have to work on. Everyday I wake up expecting that it's already the second week of June, when I can finally have that celebratory drink of vodka. Last week I was suffering from panic attacks and indescribable stress. But now more than ever, I think I've already reached the point where I've stopped caring about marks and GPAs and things. Well, not really. I'd still sell a kidney to get top marks, but I guess I've just lost all energy to try harder. This has been my worst semester (academically speaking) and I have just been turning in such a lackluster performance it's embarrassing.

I'm reminded of this episode from Steven Spielberg's Amazing Stories, which I thoroughly enjoyed as a kid. There was this African-American TV series writer who just lost his muse one day and his brains ran dry of funny things to write for his comedies. He fell asleep on the typewriter one night and his potted plant finished the screenplay for him. The plant did a pretty awesome job too, catapulting the ratings of the show. Sigh. Guess it's time to scour Sydney nurseries for wonderplants like that.

I need you so much closer

I just found out that Death Cab for Cutie will be having a Sydney concert on the...(wait for it)...18th of August. I leave Australia on the last week of July. There is a shortage of expletives to encapsulate what I feel at the moment.

When I got here January of last year, one of the first things I remember doing was googling the band's Australia tour dates. I found a site saying that they would be a having an April-ish Sydney concert. In a fit of excitement, I immediately contacted a friend and pleaded with him to watch the concert with me. After a bit I reviewed the email I had just sent, and I belatedly realised that the concert was April of friggin' 2006.

But back to their concert this year...talk about excellent timing. I seriously considered extending my stay for another two weeks just to see DCFC perform live, but I really doubt my scholarship would allow it.

When I heard the news this afternoon, I was absolutely crestfallen. I decided to just put on my pajamas and take a nap. And put their songs on repeat.

No puedo mas

I'm tired, spent, burnt out. Three weeks to go before I can finally claim my two degrees, but I'm already on the verge of a nervous breakdown and I seriously doubt if I can still reach that elusive academic finish line.

The good life

My past few days were beset with copious amounts of stress since I had to struggle to finish two big papers which were due a day apart from each other. But by the sheer grace of God (and my wicked cramming skills), I'm happy to announce that I've already handed in both essays.

For some reason, I've been feeling relatively peaceful and calm as of late. For a minute there I was actually tempted to say 'happy'; I wish to qualify however that in my present circumstances I am neither absolutely unhappy nor supremely happy, but suffice it to say that a strange feeling of contentment has taken over me.

Up till now I still can't quite put my finger on what precipitated the sudden change of emotional state. One of my theories is that it's probably because I was given a good number of hugs the past weekend by old friends whom I haven't seen in quite a while. I also had the chance to have lengthy conversations with a couple of people with whom I share similar interests at our housewarming party a few days back. Plenty of tactile contact and good conversations do indeed help a forlorn soul. A lot.

In addition, realising that I have been the recipient of heaps of blessings significantly altered my formerly bleak view of the world. I just had to remind myself that I actually have it good down here. The scores of suffering people in Darfur and Burma, my brother's friend whose dad had his mom killed, the quadriplegic in Spain who was lobbying for 30 years for an assisted suicide, the Russian girl who was trafficked to Sweden to be sexually exploited...just thinking about the lives of these characters that I've come across recently from reality and celluloid made me reconsider my personal definition of misery. There's some element of schadenfreude in there, I know, but only to the extent that their stories reinforced the fact that I certainly do not have a monopoly of the world's sadness. It also compelled me somehow to get out of self-pity mode pronto because (though it took aeons for me to realise this) I am one big friggin' lucksack. Even if half the time I find myself so utterly fugly, poor, stupid and generally inadequate, without a doubt I am still better off than more than half the world's population. And yeah, I think I'm also getting too old to whine and rant all the time. I figure it's about time I channel my energies to more positive endeavours.

The loneliness bit isn't so bad anymore. I remember someone said before that being literally by yourself most of the time shouldn't be a bad thing at all, because once in a while you ought to make it a point to hear yourself think. Having been my own best mate and worst enemy the past few months has been an insanely mad, chaotic yet enriching experience thus far. And I guess I would have to reluctantly admit this, but I believe I have considerably grown, changed and evolved since I got here.

I feel no shortage of regret however that some friends from the past are, well...gone. Wherever you people are, please just know that it was nice knowing you and that I wish you well. And for those that I have yet to meet (in non-contrived situations, I hope), I am completely thrilled by the prospect of meeting you.

Hope this newfound wellspring of serenity/pseudo-happiness doesn't dry up soon. If it does, I implore my good friends reading this to give me a good whack on the head.

We have it good, people. Well, yeah there are the requisite rough patches here and there but on the whole we have heaps of reasons to be sublimely thankful. Please tell me that I'm right.

Bits of screenplay from a favourite movie

This film is dedicated to lonely guys everywhere.

Lonely guys have been with us since the beginning of time.

There's one there. Poor guy.

Another new year's eve alone in the cave.

Even a thousand years from now,

the lonely guy will still be there.

Look at this guy.

That couple will go down in history.

All he gets to do is eat roast beef from a tube.

So all you lonely guys out there, this film is for you.

It's for guys like that guy, chin loo fung in canton, china.

He's got married brothers and sisters,

yet still eats alone in a chinese restaurant four nights a week.

It's for mbowie zoomba, another lonely guy.

While he's happy that cable tv has been installed in his area,

he'd really just like to meet a nice girl with attractive lip lace.

And it's for larry hubbard...

[larry hubbard] Hey, that's me, fifth one down. I'll take over the narration.

Hi, i'm larry hubbard. This is the story of how i became a lonely guy.

I came to manhattan to be a writer.

While i was working on my novel, i took a job at a greeting card firm.

It was working out pretty well.

What are you working on, hubbard?

It's an idea i had for a new kind of sympathy card, sir.

Mmm.

"I know how much your loss must grieve you,

"but here's a thought i'd like to leave you:

"Although you're sad remember that...

now god is petting your pussycat. "

Beautiful! Hubbard!

- Congratulations! You're moving up. - Thank you, sir.

- Get your things and take the front desk. - Yes, sir!

- Finley, harrison, annenberg, leach. - Yes, sir?

Stop whatever you're doing. I want pet cards.

Birthday, anniversary. And not just cats and dogs.

I want hamsters, fish, parakeets.

I was always lucking into things like that.

New york had been pretty good to me.

The best part was, i'd met this gorgeous ballet dancer named daniele.

She was nuts about me and asked me to move right in with her.

Every day at : she'd have bathed, perfumed,

put on a sexy nightie...

and be waiting alone in a big bed just for me.

Hi, daniele. Tarzan is here.

Oh, one second while i look through my mail here.

[Muttering] Oh, geez.

Hey, a rejection from a completely new publisher.

They're finally getting to know me in this town.

Hi, honey. You miss me?

- So, what'd you do today? Anything interesting? - Ohhh.

You gotta get out of the house. You can't mope

around all day waiting for me to come home.

Ohhh.

This your cigar in here, honey?

All ready for me i can see, huh?

Mmm. You smell good.

I don't believe you!

You come home, you find me in bed with another man,

you act as if nothing's going on.

Larry, this is my lover, raoul.

We're lovers. Understand?

- Hi, raoul. Larry hubbard. Nice to meet you. - Yeah, hi.

Have you known daniele long?

Yes, we're dancers in the same company.

- Dancer? I thought they were all... - yes.

Well, raoul's not! Raoul's all man.

Yeah.

And he's moving in tonight. After the nutcracker.

He's bringing his things over in the morning.

Bringing his things over? There's hardly enough room for our things!

Your things are going! I've already packed them!

They're in the hall beside the garbage, and you can take 'em out all together.

I know i'm behaving strange. Probably real strange.

I've never been in a situation like this before.

I don't know how to handle it. I still don't know how to handle it.

So i was waiting, calmly,

patiently, reasonably,

'til i do figure out how to handle this kind of situation.

Hold it. I think i've got it.

Yes, yes.

What the hell's going on here? What's he doing in this bed?

You disgust me, both of you!

I'm getting out of here, and i never want to see you in my life again!

I think i handled that rather well.

[Daniele, muffled] Oh, larry, don't forget the garbage.

I had no place to stay, nowhere to go.

There was no one to talk to. I must've looked pretty pitiful.

But that's the good thing about living in a big city like new york.

At least nobody i knew was going to see me like this.

Strongbows and other S words...

Alone again in the flat. Story of my life.

Had two Strongbows tonight. I felt a 5% buzz which gradually crept up to my head, down to my fingertips and toes. Not bad.

Coated two pieces of chicken thigh fillets with Crispy Mix and pan-fried them. I just had to vindicate myself from the cataclysmic chicken-burning failure I got myself into last weekend. Well, the fillets tonight weren't as crispylicious as I would've wanted them to be, but they were superlatively better than the chicken I spectacularly burned last weekend. Not to mention the house reeked of the lethal combination of old oil and charcoal for two days (almost finished an entire can of Glade trying to remedy the situation). Well, frying had never been my strongest talent anyway.

Remember Sesame Street? They always had a particular letter of the alphabet "sponsoring" every episode. Well tonight my evening is brought to you by the letter S: Strongbow, solitude, plus one other unmentionable S that just ventures into macabre territory.

******************************************************************************

Postscript: My International Political Economy readings for tomorrow remain unread. Ugh. I already understand that politics and economics are intertwined. Enough already.

Tomorrow's weather forecast says a high of 15 and a low of 9. Strange, but I am quite happy to hear that.

The loneliest girl in Sydney

Tonight the loneliest girl in Sydney is cold. The 10 degree winter chill only exacerbates the loneliness.

Her stomach grumbles with fury. She skipped dinner tonight; dinner is never particularly exciting when you have no one to eat with.

She wonders if Steve Martin's The Lonely Guy was based entirely on her biography.

She's also thinking about someone she met last week. Too bad he's gone. She found him quite pompous and full of himself anyway, but intelligent nonetheless. How does one date? How does the process work again? She's been stuck in her bubble of security too long to remember.

And when Thoreau said I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers, did he mean it?

Can't sleep...

...too cold. Bad recurring dreams. I wish I can just undergo that procedure in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Out of nowhere, this old Sinatra song starts playing in my head. At 4:18 am.

In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
Youd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
Thats the time you miss her most of all

Trees

Chow Mo-wan: In the old days, if someone had a secret they didn't want to share... you know what they did?
Ah Ping: Have no idea.
Chow Mo-wan: They went up a mountain, found a tree, carved a hole in it, and whispered the secret into the hole. Then they covered it with mud. And leave the secret there forever.
Ah Ping: What a pain! I'd just go to get laid.
Chow Mo-wan: Not everyone's like you.

*******************************************************************************

One particularly unforgettable scene from In the Mood for Love was the part where Tony Leung treks all the way to Angkor Wat to confess how fiercely he loved Maggie Cheung to a hole he carved in a solitary tree. He then covered up the hole with mud to protect this fragile secret.

So moving was this scene that it compelled me to make a personal sojourn to Cambodia late last year. While other tourists were traipsing around in more glamorous locales, I was eager to discover the mystique of exotic Angkor Wat. More than anything, I was keenly enthusiastic to take in the sight of hundreds of trees in Siem Reap which guarded a host of ancient secrets.

In this lifetime, a limited few would have the privilege to entrust their most intimate sentiments to other humans. There is an unspoken understanding for the confidante to take these secrets to their grave. But in the course of things, one may lose such human trees. Kindred friends part ways to become trees to other people, while holding on to vestiges of past confessions and revelations. Separately, they bury these shreds of each other's souls in layers of mud and struggle to relegate them to the deep abyss of oblivion, hoping to make way for new secrets.