I wish it weren't so soon.

There are so many things I wish I could say, to offer, perhaps as some form of salve - but I am limited in my small, petty way. I can only feel. It is difficult for me to emote, to give my condolences and yet try to express how infinitely glad I am that you be able will return to soak in that ecstasy of pain. All I can do is cry.

While you lie in the grief that you have all the right to bear, I indulge in mine. And there is nothing more I can do but pretend I do not feel because the Real World cannot bear my realities - they are too insignificant, too fanciful perhaps.

In awhile my face will be stuffed with Marshmallow-ed Rice Krispies, trying very hard to hold everything in because the world thinks I have no right to bear this pain. Eight years ago, I bore the loss, a different loss, like a child because I was a child. At ten, five and four, blubbering is alright and yet I was the only one.

At eleven, she made an international call to wish me a happy birthday and I hardly even said anything. I was too speechless, too shocked, too happy, too amazed and I hardly even said anything. Why didn't I say anything when I could've said so much? When I wanted to say so much?

Now I am eighteen and I am ten again. Only this time it will matter if I flood the world with my insignificant tears because I'm just too old aren't I?

(from Gettyimages/photographer Carl Schneider)

Little holes in parachutes
Won't leave you falling
If they do
It's because you wanna land

- Little, Something Corporate

Do I want to land? Where do I want to land? Lets not even begin to ask why I want to land (if I want to). Which leads me back to... do I want to land?

"The half-life of Uranium - 238 is four and one-half billion years."
- The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds by Paul Zindel

"Although a dose of just 25 rems causes some detectable changes in blood, doses to near 100 rems usually have no immediate harmful effects... As of yet, there is no effective treatment--so death occurs within two to fourteen days."
( http://library.thinkquest.org/3471/radiation_effects_body.html )

I don't claim to be a genius, or even a scientist-in-training, but I think that if you're suffering from an overdose of radiation, your best bet is to stay away from the site of emission at least until you find a cure, not draw yourself closer to it and expect to become immune to its effects. You're not superman. I would much prefer it if you didn't try so hard to kill yourself.

It takes four and one-half billion years for Uranium - 238 to decrease to half its original amount. As of yet, you cannot speed it up and you cannot slow it down. That is just how long it takes. No one will fault you for being unable to suppress it.

Tell me, my dear Niffler, what were you searching for? (:

Under the 12 30 sun.

Confidence.

Took the IP Survey and realised that whenever they asked me anything about how sure I was of my future degree/job/social status, the answer was always in the negative.

Sometimes I think life would be better if it were like that in Brave New World. 5 different classes, all ensconced within themselves, all trained and drilled (read: brainwashed) to believe that it's the best where they belong. Right from the very beginning. Even if an individual were to spend the rest of his life doing menial labour, s/he would find that most befitting of himself/herself.

In the current state of the world, most of us are led to believing that we have a choice, while so many things are actually already predetermined. Our intelligence for an example, already sets the tone for a number of things in our life. It predisposes us to read, to question, to be able to comprehend the world at large with ease. The country in which we are born and the family that we're born into, our race, religion and stature are also crucial factors. If our nationality were Iranian for example, our opportunities for excelling (in the conventional manner) would be severely limited. If our family was destitute, without adequate financial ability to support even our primary education, and suspicious towards help offered by government, we would most likely be stuck in a rut of socio-economic stagnation. If we were born Muslim in America, our chances of being persecuted without reason would be so much higher. If we were born disabled, or incurred a disability during our lifetime, the likelihood of us being able to achieve our dreams would also be decreased.

Clearly, life is not as simple as that. Those of us with great determination and perseverance would be able to transcend all these factors. At the same time, however, how many people are impoverished who work hard and who find themselves succeeding all those who are wealthy? And how many are there who are wealthy and who bask in the gold of the generations beforehand and find success just by opening their mouths and requesting for it? Within these 2 polar opposites themselves, you'd find so many more people belonging to the latter category. Many wealthy individuals are often propelled into grandeur and success simply by the efforts of the generations that come before them while many of the potentially talented but poor live their lives out in destitution simply because they are unharvested and unprovided for.

I'm not questioning whether any of this is fair. It so evidently isn't -- but our world does not (and cannot) operate on the basis of such fine justice. I'm saying that none of this is by choice. Half the world is after all trying to persuade us that we do have this freedom, this luxury of choice. We are so convinced by all their arguments that we try our very best to achieve sky-high goals because we think we can be that person in the dark suit, the white coat. We do this even though most of us would be contented being exactly where we are. We've forgotten that some of our peers have been groomed to take up such occupations since their very conception! We forget that and so while we fall behind in our inadequacies, we continue to desire, to strive and to think that there must be something we are doing wrong. It hardly occurs to us that perhaps it has little to do with our actions, but who we were born as, what we were born with.

We wrestle with the Laffy-Taffy of fate because we think we can control it with our tiny hands, but maybe we can't. Just maybe, we can't.

Of all the indulgences in the world, after a brief glimpse of what it might be like, I'm glad prom is not one of mine.

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Disclaimer: This entry is in no way meant to discourage those who have decided to go for prom, or to insult those that I will be referring to hereafter. It's just me being self-conscious.

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So I've seen a few Facebook conversations (on Walls) about prom dresses and whatnot, which has made me think about how if I am dragged to the scene of NJC Metamorphosis 2009 and forced to purchase a ticket, I would feel pathetically inadequate in my < $100 dress, < $200 shoes, < $200 make up plus hairdo.

Some would naturally argue that it's about enjoying myself (I do not really know how I would carry this process out - i.e. enjoying myself), but I scarcely think I will be able to. Most of those who have gone for prom (seniors or otherwise) have admitted that a large part of the event involves photo-taking. I have nothing against photo-taking, as long as it is to remember the occasion, but when it becomes an activity on it's own, I quite despise it, because (for individuals like me who are not madly in love with photo-taking) it's quite a chore. Needless to say, I will also be remembered (x 100) in my altogether less than $500 get-up, standing right beside the girl(s) who have spent more than that amount on their dress alone.

Perhaps those girls won't be comparing, because they can very well bask in the splendor of their attire, but I am not so confident as to say that about myself. I will be comparing, simply because I am inferior (yes, I suffer from inferiority complexes in so many forms it is hard to keep track). Neither does it help that I am not as blessed as these individuals with such faces as to attract boys without the help of dim lights.

Comparisons aside, what then would I turn to to distract myself? The food, from the very mouth of the babes "suck"? The entertainment, watching dolled-up, unerringly pretty individuals dance? The throbbing in my feet from my heels (even if I buy a new pair, they will surely be heels)?

Since I have a limited expenditure (argue that everyone does and I will tell you that some look as if they do not), I think I would rather spend it on cheap movie tickets and student meals (while we can), indulge in some books, clothes, good food and maybe one or two hamster toys. Perhaps, in time, I will get over my inferiority... or my mediocrity.

By the eleventh hundredth time, I'm almost starting to recognise that perhaps I should start spending my 11 11 wishes on something else. Every wish used to be half a fervent prayer, but now the same words run through my head, always accompanied by little skeptical thoughts skipping around at the back of my mind.

Mm. Problem is, I don't know what else to wish for.

On a different note, tomorrow's going to be a hell of a day. 11 years and I still cannot bring myself not to bother about my exam results. I often pretend that I don't care, so much so that I sometimes actually believe myself. And then they come back, and I realise that I suck, again... and that really doesn't... help.

Despite all of this, I still don't want to attend consolidation lectures or take more mock papers (that happen to fall on our graduation day HAHA) because I really don't think it's going to help.

This is probably going to insult a lot of dog-lovers out there, but let me tell you (on a very random note) why I sometimes absolutely detest dogs - because they bark. They bark and break my concentration, they bark and wake me up from my sleep at 2 am, they bark like a lousy chorus, all trying to out-bark each other. Right now, my immediate neighbour's dog is barking like there's no tomorrow and all I want to do is wrangle the... Never mind.