rainy reflections
I've had a relatively long day, and I am dreadfully tired. I'm lying on my bed, barely tucked under the covers; the fan's rumbling its slow mechanical growl and the rain's tapping out soft patters on the porch and my window. I can discern a faint whiff of shampoo if I tilt my head ever so slightly, and a barely perceptible scent of mint when I yawn. I can feel the slient warmth emanating from the bottom of my laptop, and it's strangely comforting. A 21st-century version of the warm water bottle, if you would.
My body's yelling at me to shut down the computer, slide beneath the covers and let gravity do its work on my eyelids, but I think I want to stay awake for a little longer just to write.
I don't actually know who reads this blog any longer - honestly, I think it's only the same few people, and probably the same regular people (i.e. less than 10) anyway - so I don't know what I can say out loud. It's annoying if you think about it, really. What the fuck is the use of a blog where you have to censor yourself? I have half a mind to set up a new one just so I can actually say the things that I want to say, when and how I want to say them.
But that's besides the point. For now.
I've got a bunch of important things to do that I can't seem to get down to, of which the most pressing is getting my damn study permit from the local High Commission. I know where it is, and I have a rough idea of the details and procedures, but goddamnit, I don't really want to get it done.
In many ways, I've become rather attached to Singapore. Well, not quite Singapore itself, but the little things that make it bearable, and in some ways, relatively fun, almost... tantalizing. Ironic if you consider how much I wanted to leave this miniscule spot 3 years ago. I won't go into the minutiae here and now, but it truly suffices to say that I have found a place in which I am so comfortable and at peace, that its inhabitants have commented I look as though I'm home. And if either of you are reading this post, thank you. You don't know how much your acceptance and the grace you've shown me has affected me.
I don't have anything insightful to say at this hour of the night/morning, nor is there any particularly thought-provoking point to this post. I'm just treating this as a heavily censored not-so-personal diary. Oh wait. That's the case for every other blog. Whatever. I'm too tired to care if you're rolling your eyes.
Back to Singapore.
I don't really want to leave. That much, I know. I know that when the time comes to leave, I'll be upset. And "upset" is really just a euphemism for me being utterly fucked up and feeling every single shade of blue known to the painter and digital graphic designer. I'll miss having to make phonecalls in the morning, the easy conversation that I can have with all the people around me, but most of all, I know that I'll miss a few select individuals. Speaking of which...
People come, people go. Flux is as much the universal constant as black is always in fashion/style. (Yes, there's a difference I know, but fuck it.) Ah... I had a lot to say when it came to my mind, but I'm really too tired to continue typing. Besides, my eyes are super dry and I still haven't gotten myself eyedrops of any kind. As it is right now, I wish I were one of those desert frogs (or are they lizards?) that are able to lick their eyes just so keep them moist. It'll be pretty freaky if I did that in public, but damn it, it's a free country (so they say), and I'm a person who holds plenty of liberal values unapologetically. Don't want to see this? Turn 180 degrees and your visual ailment has been miraculously cured - not to mention that no one this side of the line can gaze longingly into that ugly mug of yours.
Damn, that was a long penultimate paragraph. I'm outta here.
My body's yelling at me to shut down the computer, slide beneath the covers and let gravity do its work on my eyelids, but I think I want to stay awake for a little longer just to write.
I don't actually know who reads this blog any longer - honestly, I think it's only the same few people, and probably the same regular people (i.e. less than 10) anyway - so I don't know what I can say out loud. It's annoying if you think about it, really. What the fuck is the use of a blog where you have to censor yourself? I have half a mind to set up a new one just so I can actually say the things that I want to say, when and how I want to say them.
But that's besides the point. For now.
I've got a bunch of important things to do that I can't seem to get down to, of which the most pressing is getting my damn study permit from the local High Commission. I know where it is, and I have a rough idea of the details and procedures, but goddamnit, I don't really want to get it done.
In many ways, I've become rather attached to Singapore. Well, not quite Singapore itself, but the little things that make it bearable, and in some ways, relatively fun, almost... tantalizing. Ironic if you consider how much I wanted to leave this miniscule spot 3 years ago. I won't go into the minutiae here and now, but it truly suffices to say that I have found a place in which I am so comfortable and at peace, that its inhabitants have commented I look as though I'm home. And if either of you are reading this post, thank you. You don't know how much your acceptance and the grace you've shown me has affected me.
I don't have anything insightful to say at this hour of the night/morning, nor is there any particularly thought-provoking point to this post. I'm just treating this as a heavily censored not-so-personal diary. Oh wait. That's the case for every other blog. Whatever. I'm too tired to care if you're rolling your eyes.
Back to Singapore.
I don't really want to leave. That much, I know. I know that when the time comes to leave, I'll be upset. And "upset" is really just a euphemism for me being utterly fucked up and feeling every single shade of blue known to the painter and digital graphic designer. I'll miss having to make phonecalls in the morning, the easy conversation that I can have with all the people around me, but most of all, I know that I'll miss a few select individuals. Speaking of which...
People come, people go. Flux is as much the universal constant as black is always in fashion/style. (Yes, there's a difference I know, but fuck it.) Ah... I had a lot to say when it came to my mind, but I'm really too tired to continue typing. Besides, my eyes are super dry and I still haven't gotten myself eyedrops of any kind. As it is right now, I wish I were one of those desert frogs (or are they lizards?) that are able to lick their eyes just so keep them moist. It'll be pretty freaky if I did that in public, but damn it, it's a free country (so they say), and I'm a person who holds plenty of liberal values unapologetically. Don't want to see this? Turn 180 degrees and your visual ailment has been miraculously cured - not to mention that no one this side of the line can gaze longingly into that ugly mug of yours.
Damn, that was a long penultimate paragraph. I'm outta here.
NIGEL
5:52 AM
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