True to my nagging suspicions, I am unable to keep up my internet strike. Or boycott. Or whatever it is. out of my extremely pathetic and limited vocabulary, i guess thats all i could muster.


i actually spent a considerable amount of time questioning myself and whamming my chemistry notes against my lightly pimpled forehead wondering the point and purpose of my existence in this family, this school, this society, this country, this world, today. and of course i did not find a satisfactory answer.


do not start and tell me about what god has in store for me. i am not searching for the answer for my spiritiual existence, or religious existence, or whatever. so please dont start on it. im trying to answer questions i have for myself.


what do i want with my life? is this what i want with myself? with my life? with the rest of my life? is this what i want to do? im really not sure.
its one of those days you spend wondering and dreaming and questioning when you know with a sinking feeling you should be mugging your bloody ass off since the big As are approaching and you have less than 90 days left. or so i think. because i know if i dont mug like mad and do well i ll be bloody regretting it later when i see FFFF on my report card aka A level cert and wondering why i was wasting time wondering what i want with my life


so i decided to sit on the floor in oom-yoga position for a few secs and try to calm myself.
i sort of lapsed out of my usual daily 10 mins of yoga in the morning practice.
i mean, full-lotus is the easiest position but i found it super uncomfortable.
but as soon as the first minute passed, i started to feel at ease with myself. my body, my mind, and yes, my soul, if you believe humans have souls.


side tracking, i tried to recall the times when i was younger
and i realised i was a rather a considerate and dong3 shi4 kid. all the crappy presents my parents and relatives gave me. i mean, they were of sh*t nature if you were a bratty kid and all but to me it didnt matter since it was my birthday and i felt on top of the world.
i remember my dad liked/likes to give me winner-of-the-pulitzer-prize-or-winner-of-the-booker-prize-award-or-some-bloody-award-as-long-as-it-looks-chim-and-has-won-an-award-books. for secondary school. i dont think i even read the books properly once. i died halfway mostly, i should think. and i was/am sorry to disappoint him that i dont take after him in any way [nope, not his tall slightly muscular build, not his diligence and perseverance, not his scholarly traits] unless you count my double eyelids. yep. my double eyelids are so fine sometimes they cant really be seen. they come from him.


i guess i ve been rather disappointing as a daughter. i failed to succeed him in chinese history or literary writing or even love for chinese culture and everything related to him. an A2 for higher chinese at o level seemed mandatory. but it was difficult. i like chinese, but i failed it. not fail as it got an F but failed it as in disappointed the wondeful language. im just not bloody good enough, not good enough for him, or even for myself. not as good as i would have liked.


i really dont know what to do with my life sometimes.


out of point. as i was saying, i dont actually remember getting a birthday present that i actually wanted. ... no, i dont think so. it was always the aw-thats-so-sweet-of-you or the oh-its-really-cool-im-sure-it-ll-come-in-handy and give those appreciative looks. i really liked the idea that people bothered to get me sth, but in the end i was always a disappointed little kid because i was sad that nobody knew what i really wanted. or nobody cared.


it wasnt wanting something but craving for someone to know what i wanted without telling. the sort of excitement i held, mixed with apprehension and ambivelance as the big day drew near... but after 18 years of the same thing i can say safely that i know myself the best. of course. what had/have i been wishing for? its stupid to think that someone will actually know what i want and know how i think without me actually telling


it ll probably never happen.

i dont think my dad ever knew that i hated that barbie doll dressed in polka dotted dress with a matching plastic dog. i dont think he does, not even now anyway. i spent much of my early childhood playing with lego and other associated building toys but what i actually really wanted was one of those pretty barbie dolls with the lovely long gown and tiara. of course its not of much relevance to me now but at that point of time, it was what i really wanted. when i passed it by in the toy shop i would always look at it one moment longer, just linger there a while more.


but he never knew. *sigh* and when he gave me that barbie doll for my birthday, my first ever barbie doll, his smiled was so brilliant, so blissful that i didnt think i could bear to see him disappointed. so i tried very hard to look as if it was exactly what i wanted and nothing else in the world was better...
of course over time i got used to playing with it and actually started to grow fond of the thing. not bad.
its nothing much actually, just a barbie doll. but it meant a lot to me, at that time.


sigh. i wonder why i was such a freaking difficult kid.
and now im a freaking difficult teenager. or so my parents think. and i think so too. on a frequent basis.
and soon i ll be a freaking difficult adult.
looking forward to that.