Week 2 - Monday

Dear diary,

I'm excited! I'll be off to Bintan in 2 days. Respite from the daily hassles and generous catnaps I get in camp. Not to mention all that, -ick- green. Dirty green I might add, with what seems to be swirls of brown, mucky, er. Let's not go there.

Ok, Bintan. Woohoo! I just paid $109.40 for the 2 day 1 night non-expenses paid trip. Let's see, what's on the things-to-do-on-the-island-you-paid-109.40-to-visit list. Hmmm, canoeing, waterskiing, wakeboarding, pool, billiard... Sounds familiar. Is there a second page to this brochure?

Drools. Imagine the crystal clear waters and glistening white beaches... What? The waters aren't that clean? And the currents are too strong for swimming at this time of the year? Oh never mind, at least the food's cheap and seafood's abundant... No? The buffets cost 30+ SGD?! Ah well, I'm sure the spa would offset all the other trivialities... 100+ SGD for a spa session?!! That's more expensive than what it costs here!

ARGH!!!

It's ok. No big deal. The resort should be good enough to relax in... What's that? You say it's just like Downtown East? Even worse?!

ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH!!!

I sure hope the Bintanians have a deathwish.

Week 1 - Tuesday

Dear diary,

The weather's pretty nippy today isn't it. I mean, you wouldn't know. You're just a bunch of dumb spaghetti code. For those with the physical comfort of being able to tell the weather by touch, yes, it is a cold, dark, gloomy day.

Picked up a song through a friend's recommendation - Cannonball, by Damien Rice. It's funny how sometimes you listen to a song that's almost fitting; to the surroundings, the ambience, and your inner state. This is one of those times. Surrealism.

Today the colour of my world is gray. Not a moody gray that spells sadness and heavyheartedness, and even though the sky is literally wispy gray, that's not the gray. This gray is more like a b&w photo from the 50s, reminiscent and pensive.


A colour gray
like the ash of eden
a chill of the flesh
the warmth of the heart
enter the forbidden

A colour gray
a world of silence
the monotony of life
broken by contradiction
a song of defiance

A colour gray
let not concede ruth
but a cleansing of mind
the purity of soul
a seeker of truth

A little poem that I wrote. Not feeling garrulous today. That's all for now.




Regards,
sq

Week 1 - Sunday

Dear diary,

I know I hadn't addressed you in a while. My apologies, though not half as guilty. I don't have very much to say to you frankly - it's already weird enough that I'm talking to an inanimate object, but the reason why I've decided on an entry today's, well, simple. I felt like writing.

There are times when you have the urge to do something. Everyone does. Like eat a cake. Or kiss someone. Probably break the law even. Well, I have an urge now. To write. Not an intense lewd oh-give-it-to-me that's gonna tear out of you any moment. It's a tingly, nagging little urge that wouldn't seem to go away even after you took a bath, bbq-ed, sang birthday songs and horsed around. At least for me it didn't.

Before I begin, you might be wondering what's with the title. Week 1? Of what. That is of little importance. It was merely "Week 1" for simplicity's sake. Week 1 would be the 1st week that I start writing. Think of it as a rudimentary counter. I'm not bold enough to stake claim in a first week dedicated to the opening of my blog you know.

First feeling of the day - Boredom. A petty little disease that afflicts people once too often. I now know why people had to "battle boredom"; you'd be surprised how much effort was needed to get rid of the bugger. Waking up, I lumber around my living room, looking for things to do. Instinctly, I switched on my computer. Not that there were many options anyway. Started up a game called "Rome - Total War". Sounds pretty impressive huh. The game promises "epic real-time warfare, empire building, politics and treachery...", wow. I think they hired Terry Pratchett for the foreword. So, the game starts. Not bad at all, despite not living up to its fantastic premise. The soundtracks were carefully orchestrated to represent the different settings and moods, and the battle scenes are created with realism in mind. The gameplay's not a problem for me. *Destroy them! Charge! Attack!* What do you know, I've fifteen territories before you know it. Easy, if you don't discount the fact that I keep cheating. Money's no object, as I always say. Come on, it's just a game. If you didn't have absolute power and bijillions of moola, why bother. It's meant to be fantasy in the first place, isn't it.

Okay, I've wasted an entire morning and half of the afternoon living a life of arms and bloodshed. Shit. I'm supposed to be studying for my advanced driving theory test that's coming up in 2 days. Control yourself you wastrel! Picking a comfortable and conducive place to study, I began to furiously devour the pages, one by one. Depress the braking pedal, while slowly releasing the accelerator. They make driving sound like nuclear science I tell you. Soon my mental capabilities were maxed, and the inevitable happened. I fell asleep. Bed was a bad pick.

Waking up, it's 5 pm. Had to be honest with myself. I can't absorb anything at all. My brain's kinda like a non-porous sponge; soft, mushy and effectively useless. Switching on the computer again, this time with a new purpose. To finish viewing the latest downloads of an anime "Naruto". Great anime, plenty of action and even some tear-jerking scenes. About some ninja story that would kill you if I tried to elaborate. Fast-forwarding, 6.30 pm. Argh! I'm late for Esmond's birthday bbq! Hmm, then again, what's new?

To cut things short, the bbq was well done. Not many food choices, but good enough for me. Uh oh, guilt-trip. I can practically feel the oil and grease crawling around in my gut and on my face, mocking my impending arterial blockage and acne outbreak. Still, it was fun. The cake was good, had rum or brandy inside. Pretty strong stuff. Wonder if anyone got drunk from eating too much cake. Oh well. Happy birthday Esmond! Thought it was nice to leave a hearty salutation on his special day.

I'm spent. The urge(to write) has finally waned to nothingness. Now is the time to sleep. So I shall.


Yours (not)always,
sq

Testing. Testing 1, 2. Testing 1, 2, 3.

Dear diary,

This is an official prologue to the start of a neverending(till-i-get-bored) barrage of thrash that only the greatest of idiocy can muster. In this opening chapter, I realise I have nothing of interest to say, and looking at the title you could clearly see that I was trying to play around with the reader's mind. Seeing a topic such as "testing yada yada", one would expect the entry to be a curt and short one that is, as said, a post to test the efficacy of blogger's system.

By setting the expectations to pit-bottom, I would be able to draw excitement at even the slightest hint of content when one reads this entry. While the ingenuity of this exploitation slowly sinks in, you'd most probably be cursing yourself, above all else, to fall prey to the ridiculous nature of my post. Ultimately, this serves nothing as entertainment to myself or my guest, yet I couldn't resist the lure of it.

Fortunately, I have, out of consideration, thought of a 2 ways you could go about without feeling silly about the whole thing. 1. You could casually say aloud, preferably with people around, "Oops. Wasn't this the IQ test page for Mensa? Dang!" or, 2, which is a better choice in my opinion, check back this page once in awhile, because you never know what idiocy can come up with sometimes. Cheerios.









P/S: This post is so lame I'm developing an inferiority complex and have the sudden urge to hug myself.

P/S2: It suddenly occurred to me how dumb it was to address your diary as a dear. Why do people personify their diaries? Are all people who write diaries needy neurotics? Argh am I one then?! As if being stupid wasn't bad enough. Sheesh.