A couple of days ago, I was reading Calvin and Hobbes from one of the local newspaper. I felt and still feel rather sorry that Calvin should lose Hobbes to a dog.
Poor Calvin.

Today, I read again and felt even sorrier.

Suzy found Hobbes.

[[ mood ]] thoughtful

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By popular exteriorly (and many interiorly) expressed demands, I am thus forced to make an earlier than intentional appearance here. Such flattery and such vanity does no one any good. It oftens lead to more vanity, fueled by more flattery and ultimately lead to some form of public self-destruction. Clearly, when one goes on rambling about vanity and flattery and the morality that comes along with the likes of such words, one need to stop - immediately.

The truth is that my long absence and equally (I believe) long awaited return is a direct result of multiple excuses and few reasons which I do not intend to provide here. It is not worth the trouble reading through lines of so little consequence. As a recent audience to Philip Ridley's The Fastest Clock in the Universe directed by Joe Hasham has led to much thought about vanity and clear enactment of it here. Then of course, the indulgment in Austen's Sense and Sensibility resulted into more expressions of vanity.

There is little to write about the past weeks which I believe I have thoroughly enjoyed after all the parties (I miss the parties) and there is equally little to narrate about what is to be expected of the future. What I can say for myself, however, is the freedom which is in my possession at this moment is to last for several months and I shall now afford the privillege of enjoying every little luxury time can offer. Having said that, it does mean that I would have a more delightful time reading and remaining happily idle the rest of the time. Time, my dear friends, is the one thing worth having. Idle time is more the precious.

At this moment, the luxury of time that I now enjoy will not be employed by writing. It is perhaps more suitably employed to stare into space, count the stars in the sky, dust my shelves, something that recquires far less brain activity than writing. Writing, it seems to me to be increasingly difficult. I could point to the lack of events in my life but that would be pointing to the lack of initiative on my part to find any real amusement and point more accusingly to my preference of staring into space and counting the stars in the sky. I would, therefore, much prefer to blame the current lack of ability to write due to a very busy schedule which includes continuous and consistent dusting of shelves and counting of stars. One thing you have to learn from college after all the money you have paid is not to put off your work.

Therefore, good day to you.

Cheers.

Cheerio.

[[ mood ]] refreshed

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Only yesterday I wrote of the needlessness to write. Today, I changed my mind. I have not enjoyed the pleasure of reading this much until now. Clearly, when you have nothing nibbling your back, some kind of assignment you need to complete, some kind of essay you have to hand in by a certain date, some kind of prior engagement you need to fulfill, you can be more at ease at whatever you do. Since my return, it appears to me that few people are interested in the business of meeting up, having a delightful tête-à-tête with me. I am of course aware that it is made known that I am perhaps one of the least pleasurable person to have a chat with. Even so, I'd like to think I am a reasonable (if pleasure is out of the question) person to speak to. My dear friends, I believe, have other opinions. On my part, perhaps, lack some initiative to initiate anything.

A brief conversation with a dear acquaintance yesterday evoked some rather unnecessary feelings. To be reminded of the absence and distance of those whose comapany you most treasure seems to me to be such a cruel act. I feel the absence and distance very much. They are, after all, a very good bunch of lads and ladies to be around - not the best of influence, perhaps but a lot of fun. One had paticularly entreated for my return because she could no longer stand the lads - a grave circumstance which I understand very much. I have been stuck with the boys myself. I shall hope to make a visit to them very soon.

I have re-read Austen's Sense and Sensibility now that Time allows me to do so and has started on Gaskell's North and South after a recommendation of someone I know. My personal opinion is that there is such a likable ring to the name Gaskell that I cannot help but like the book too - Gaassskell. When one reads anything written by the English, one's attention is bound to the descriptions of the English countryside:

"But as they drew towards the end of it, their interest in the appearance of a country which they were to inhabit overcame their dejection, and a view of Farton Valley as they entered it gave them cheerfulness. It was a pleasant, fertaile spt, well wooded, and rich in pasture."
Austen's Sense and Sensibility

"Just now I feel as if twenty years' hard study of law would be amply rewarded by one year of such an exquisite serene life as this - such skies! such crimson and amber foliage so perfectly motionless as that."
Gaskell's North and South.

It should be regrettable that one should not find the sights these writers have so sensually written about. It is, after all, what fills many pages of the books I have read so far. The country, it appears seem to be something that provides much inspiration to the English writers. I wonder sometimes if a Malaysian writer could derive so much pleasure, so much joy, so much inspiration and motivation out of our paddy fields and palm oil plantations. It is, in spite of all justifiable comparisons, still our countryside.

"I should think, a few years ago, that I would not step foot on such moist and soft grass. It is dark and clouds seem to be what occupies the night sky rather than the expected stars. I hear sounds of what I believe to be made by small little black creatures with long tails and very short fur - creatures they call rats. I am not fond of such creatures. Surrounded by stout looking trees, arranged so orderly in lines like soldiers in attention seems to have on me some odd claustrophobic effect. To stand in the middle of tall and slim trees seem to have one me no less of such an effect. To be surrounded by the country's wealth seems to me to be oddly unrefreshing."
TrapT (aspiring young Malaysian writer)

Clearly, I'm not the best of Malaysian writers. Then again, if an English can find so much in their countryside as to have their works live on, this aspiring young Malaysian writer should like to think she could likewise get the most out of her Malaysian palm oil plantations and rubber tree estates.

Cheers.

[[ book ]] Gaskell's North and South
[[ mood ]] weird

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Bad: I am vexed.

Worse: Vexed is a funny word to described a person being vexed.

Worst: Nobody cares if I am vexed.

Argh.

"Immortalising anger" as one friend would put it.

[[ mood ]] VEXED

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You know when they say money don't buy you happiness? Well, it's not true. Poverty doesn't buy you happiness. Penury, destitution, scarcity, dearth, and being broke (as in my case) doesn't buy you happiness. That is true. And as Plato puts it 'Wealth is the parent of luxury and indolence, and poverty of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent. In any circumstance, I'd much rather be indolent and live luxuriously rather than be mean and vicious. I'd much rather be happy than be broke - honestly.

The trouble with unemployment, as in my position, is that of the lack of unemployment benefits. It is, I believe impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has a lot of money to spend. It appears to make little sense to those in power that whether or not you have employment, money becomes something of a neccessity rather than a luxury. It also appears that the much less than subtle hints of my penniless situation is deliberately ignored. So, here I am, a poor, penniless soul, ranting and complaining about my little helplessness and defenselessness for being unemployed and not provided with unemmployment benefits. There is little emotion towards the less fortunate in this world, I'm afraid.

In all economic sense, money being the medium of exchange and store of value and whatever else it is that Gobbs once told us in class a year ago, those who are in power seems not to understand my dire need for it. It should be regrettable that so many of the same miserable fate as mine should suffer as I do now - like a poor, penniless soul, ranting and complaining about the helplessness and defeselessness for being unemployed and not provided with unemployment benefits. I have made up my mind to vote for the opposition party in the next elections. Perhaps, they may show some care to the less fortunate.

My current and sole hope now is that my unrelenting efforts of drivng the children of those who are now in power would be recognised and that this unfortunate and penniless soul would soon be given a reward of some kind. Until now, it does not seem that my efforts are showing any kind of effect. This morning I was awaken by an unwanted telephone call to have me drive all the way to town to pick up one of the children of those who are in power. Three in the morning I slept and ten thirty in the morning I woke up to labour myself. But, as the old saying goes, you work till you drop and you don't expect to get paid by the end of the day. Such is the injustice of this unkind world. When you've got to put bread on the table, you've got to put bread on the table.

Let us hope that this poor, penniless soul will get something out of her unrelenting efforts while she goes off now to drive someone off to somewhere in hopes that these little efforts are rewarded with monetary means. Ttfn.

Cheers.

[[ music ]] Diana Krall - Autumn Leaves
[[ mood ]] working

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