I hope the Giants win again! Not because I particularly care for them, but because I hate the Patriots with persistence. (Not even persistent passion the way I hate Duke - I often forget to hate them until someone reminds me they exist, but once I am reminded, grr those Patriots.)
Nishikori upset over Tsonga! I haven't managed yet to watch any of the Australian Open what with the time difference and my lack of cable TV, but I'm keeping up to date with scores and hoping to catch some matches once we get out of the rounds into the quarter/semi/finals. The women's side is a mess of surprises as usual, whereas the men's has kept fairly predictable. I think Nole, Rafa, and Feds have all swept through their rounds without dropping a set. No, wait, Nole dropped one to Hewitt in this last match. Oh god, the draw - if Rafa beats Berdych and Federer beats Del Potro tomorrow, they meet up in the semis and the winner is likely to face Nole. Nail-biting, always. Vamos Rafa, always.
In other sports news, Liverpool makes me cringe with despair, as ever, but you'll never walk alone, etc. etc. Team of my heart, stop making me bleed misery, please? Though this season is a marked improvement on last season, thank you!
UNC is holding fairly steady and I'm pretty happy there, aside from the FSU loss (let's not talk about it). Keep calm and carry on, Carolina! I visited campus on Saturday to see G, on exchange from NUS to UNC exactly a year after my exchange to NUS. She brought me kaya jam! Delight in my mouth - I had kaya toast for breakfast this morning and it's not the same as Ya Kun, of course, but it's the closest I'll get to Singapore in a long time. I can't believe it's been nearly four years since I graduated from UNC; it still looks the same in so many ways. It is the same in many ways. It's strange to see memory and reality overlapping, I guess.
Nothing more this time around: Happy Lunar New Year! It's the year of the dragon, which means...that I turn a quarter of a century old this year. Frightening prospect! Possibly the world will end also, which is always an option I'm up for. (Or perhaps only the internet will end, and that is close enough to the end of the world to be depressing.)
Monday, January 23, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
is it the beginning of the end where we stand?
If ever I once knew, I've since forgotten what poetry is like. Sometimes the lines write themselves in my head but perpetually they refuse to crystalize into any form more tangible. They prefer the amorphous, uncaptured state that leaves me dreaming but ultimately unsatisfied.
It's 2012 and either the world will end, or we will be forced to keep on living. Is it so horrid a prospect? There is much to live for, I discovered last year, if I can see past the blinders of depression. The sun (so says Annie) will come out tomorrow.
Here is our brand new year full of brand new opportunities. It is much like last year, say the cynics. Nothing will change, except foolish optimists will once again find their views tempered by reality. You are yourself and you won't ever be anyone else - and that's true, isn't it? You can never be anything more or anything less than yourself. But perhaps we can change the borders with which we define ourselves.
My past few years have been emotional roller coasters, but predictable ones: I know I will go up; I know I will come down. The past couple months, on the other hand, have held strangely steady. I can't help but be afraid of the inevitable change, the other shoe dropping, because happiness is too lofty, too rarefied, a goal - I don't believe I can achieve it or, if I do, hold onto it. If I am happy now, it must be fleeting.
I suppose it is something like the poetry that floats through my head at times.
Yet I am tentatively hopeful that I can write again this year, that I will; I am tentatively hopeful I can live, and be happy, and that somehow the new year will in fact herald new beginnings. I will ultimately be always myself, but maybe this year, my self can find, reach, keep happiness.
It's not a terrible thing to wish.
It is a far better thing to make it so.
It's 2012 and either the world will end, or we will be forced to keep on living. Is it so horrid a prospect? There is much to live for, I discovered last year, if I can see past the blinders of depression. The sun (so says Annie) will come out tomorrow.
Here is our brand new year full of brand new opportunities. It is much like last year, say the cynics. Nothing will change, except foolish optimists will once again find their views tempered by reality. You are yourself and you won't ever be anyone else - and that's true, isn't it? You can never be anything more or anything less than yourself. But perhaps we can change the borders with which we define ourselves.
My past few years have been emotional roller coasters, but predictable ones: I know I will go up; I know I will come down. The past couple months, on the other hand, have held strangely steady. I can't help but be afraid of the inevitable change, the other shoe dropping, because happiness is too lofty, too rarefied, a goal - I don't believe I can achieve it or, if I do, hold onto it. If I am happy now, it must be fleeting.
I suppose it is something like the poetry that floats through my head at times.
Yet I am tentatively hopeful that I can write again this year, that I will; I am tentatively hopeful I can live, and be happy, and that somehow the new year will in fact herald new beginnings. I will ultimately be always myself, but maybe this year, my self can find, reach, keep happiness.
It's not a terrible thing to wish.
It is a far better thing to make it so.
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