Nameless

I’m going to write an unadulterated blog entry today. Warning: r21 themes and never-before-revealed secrets ahead. Don’t read if you’re scared.

I’m not kidding. This is not a funny entry.=)

2 things have gotten me down in these 2 days. The first thing that I would talk about (which triggered off this idea of a blog entry actually!) would be my friend’s comment: “Your eyes are big, but not pretty.”

Slight perturbness there. The simple reason being, I think my eyes are pretty. I’ve been taught to think my eyes are pretty.

And this is the 1^st secret revelation today. I think I’m pretty. Now, I would imagine a series of expressions to that serious statement up there. I’m being honest, in no way is this a female version of the Jon-ma-I’m-so-hansum joke. But it’s alright, I understand your reaction. And thankfully, I don’t need to see it. I just plead that the readers of my blog are good friends whom I can trust not to judge me before they read the following few paragraphs.

And so I continue.

Underlying the content of my secret, is a problem. I ache when my prettiness is not recognized. And I can finally be honest about that, because the ache has lessened in recent years. But it hasn’t gone away.

In fact, I ache when a lot of things I assumed about myself, in all my pride, are not recognized about me. More so, when it’s proven I have assumed wrong. Firstly, I’m not that intelligent. A clear fact in law school, I can tell you. Very clear. Not just by my grades, by my general standard of thinking. Secondly, I’m not always right. HAHA clearly. But these things have lessened as well.

However, after a burning week of hard work and little sleep, these thoughts come back to me. I re-visit my inadequacies. I lose focus. I forget why I’m working so hard. I forget what I’m working for. In fact, if you ask me now, I can give you the textbook answer but still be living in a state of memory-loss.

So now, to tie both of my Kryptonites up, herein lies a paradox. I love being recognized as pretty, but I hate and look down on that side of me. Pretty vessels with no substance are not worthy of respect. And hence, I look down on good-looking people. I tend towards people of talent and intelligence. I might like goodlooking ppl, but I often find it hard to respect them. In fact, the people I find really attractive in appearance are often not the most goodlooking people. I can’t explain my barometer for attraction. Their personality just seems to radiate out of their pores to make them LOOK (and not just SEEM) very very goodlooking. I won’t name names coz after that, you’ll feel sian, since it seems like I’m saying you’re not truly, naturally goodlooking.

This now branches out to 2 different parts of this essay. I shall touch on the less provocative one first.

The 2^nd thing that got me down, was a busride in the rain to school. It was one of the rare moments where I had time alone with my mp3 with no distractions, other then the scenery. Which was half-clouded by a curtain of rain. Familiar poignant strums of a guitar accompanied by the violin. I usually skip old songs which are not currently on my “Kim’s Popular Hits of the Month” list, but I listened in to this one.

It was Michael John’s rendition of “Dream on”. Super powerful. Super nice song and arrangement. The song reached it’s climax: “Dream on. Dream on. Dream on” Johns went into falsetto. I remained stoned and more stoned then ever. What was there to dream on to in this fleeting life of mine?

As I reflect on how listening to that song felt, how empty I realized what I was working for is. I recall what I just read in Ecclesiastes today. It’s so weird, coz I almost skipped my QT today but realized 5 seconds later that “NO CANNOT I WILL DIE FROM HEART ATTACK IF I DON’T READ considering how kanchiong spider I’ve been getting and with my equity presentation today ALLL THE MORE I NEED THE PEACE OF GOOOOODDDDDDDD!!! Hah. You don’t fool me sinful nature. TAKE THAT!!” And although I’ve been reading 1 Kings, I skipped to Ecclesiastes today. “meaningless meaningless, everything is meaningless!” that line replays in my head. Again and again.

That was the 2^nd thing that got me down. And a seemingly source of angst today in the car as I mustered enough strength to tell my daddy mummy “I don’t know why I’m in law.” They’ve heard it so many times. I still feel that way, after so long.

-Last paragraphs taken out because it's far too personal-

I just wish i were a guy. I’ve always tended towards disliking being female – 2^nd class to the male species in all things knowledgeable and assertive. I’m a thinker. Not a feeler/nurturer. Which makes me 2^nd class of a 2^nd class since I do not fulfil a woman’s Basic Role. That’s pretty low class. And such a pain in the neck.

Also, i hate being as likable as decoration. It's disgusting. Makes me want to puke.

How’s that for an honest blog entry. So glad I’ve made my blog more private.