fear of writing (not the singaporean play)

i honestly couldn’t find another term for what i’m feeling now. this particular subset of fear osciliates between point a: “procrastination”, which happens when I’m supposed to be writing, and point B: “writer’s block”, when i actually buckle down to try and type something out, but nothing comes out. everything sounds wonderful in your head two hours ago, but not now, because somehow every word, utterance, phrase, sentence – it’s all so garishly crude. absolutely disgusting. pig prose, they call it (whoever they are).

instant gratification from successful games in League of Legends always appeals more than an effort at writing, anyway.

i think the primary problem is this: that i have a particular fear of writing that kicks in whenever i try to buckle down and create something, because whenever I do, it ends up sucking immensely. endings will not make sense, there are plot holes in the story’s fabric, etc, etc, etc. things don’t match up, things don’t sound good, things are unclear, everything looks like the watery aftermath of one man’s meal at Chinese Wok at CJ – and that is to say, like absolute shit.

this, of course, is a problem because… look. every guy is good at doing something. some guys are musically inclined, some guys are more sportsy, some guys are brilliant leaders, some guys are book-smart, some guys are girl-smart (i take credit for invention of this term, which in no way applies to me), some guys are brilliant at Starcraft, you know the deal. they’ve got some sort of ridiculous talent that only they can bring to the world, and those who claim that they don’t just haven’t quite found their niche.

i thought once about the idea of writing maybe short stories, maybe novels, but that was more or less a passing fancy. now, though, when i’m really trying to create something, the fear is kicking in, and i’m feeling what almost every lost student feels at the start of an exam – not knowing where to start.

yes, H2 History, i’m looking at you.

this is usually where i start drawing up outlines, but.. there’s this ridiculous fear that won’t go away. i’m cool with imperfection for almost anything (cincai lah!), but sometimes imperfection just doesn’t cut it when you’re doing things for someone else, you know?

i’m not too sure what to think. just gonna go pop some heads in Saints Row now. (yes, I am fully aware this is Point A kicking in.)

Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
Truman Capote

EDIT: wordpress is pretty cool. it kind of read my mind when i clicked Publish Post; it gave me this quote -

That isn’t writing at all, it’s typing.

Truman Capote

and yes, i use the two interchangeably. my handwriting is horribly crude, but you know, sometimes pen and paper make for a more.. textured medium. it can suffice as a hand-laboured creation of love, as imperfect as it is, as love should always be.

ang pow money

i think i’m entitled to a little whining.

my extended family is generally speaking.. small. aside from my dad (paternal side), i’ve got three aunts, one of which is not married. two uncles, one of which is not married.

that essentially means i get 3 angpows a year, plus two random relatives that i’m not even sure i’m related to. i think it’s my grandmother’s sister, and her son’s family, so that makes.. five angpows a year, right? these angpows usually don’t break the $20 dollar mark, as they should, because, y’know, we’re not exactly close anyway. i can accept that. it’s a “token sum” sort of thing, anyway.

the thing here is that i have never hit the three-digit mark for angpow collection whereas most kids in Singapore regularly hit the three digit mark (i.e $X00) and they do it pretty comfortably, too. they hit upwards of 100++, 200++, etc, and sometimes you even see people whining on facebook that “oh why this year angpow marnee so little, 400 dollar nia” and all that shit.

it’s a regular source of resentment for me. i instinctively go “FUCK THESE KIDS!” and prepare my sour grapes for lunch.. or dinner.. or whatever. poor man no 3 meals a day what.

but THAT CHANGED THIS YEAR. YOU KNOW WHY?

BECAUSE MY BOSS GAVE ME AN ANGPOW THAT HAD TWO HONEST-TO-GOD BLUE YUSOF BIN ISHAKS.

that’s a hundred dollars. that’s three digits.

three, magnificent digits.

I love my boss.

(p.s: I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad, that one man’s angpow to his non-blood-related worker can actually be more than my extended family’s angpow money combined.)

那些年 redux

watched the pirated version today with mah cousins, because it was CHAI-NEESE NIU YEAAAAAAAAR!

or so this kid would say. Walking advert for birth control.

anyhow, the pirated film kind of differed from the ‘legit’ one because they cut off some parts here and there, but there were also some bits left in that MDA didn’t get rid off. mmm. the eng subs were also terribad, like someone took the chinese subs (which were blissfully alright, except when the taiwan slang kicked in) and ran it through google translate wholesale.

conclusion: MUST BE MALAYSIAN COPY.

anyhow, the film was pretty good, even on second viewing. i guess what made it stick out was because my cousin, who studies in SMU’s Law faculty (you can commence your WHOAAAAAAAAAAA and WOWWWWWWWWWWWW and the skeptics can go WTF ARE YOU TWO EVEN RELATED? LOL!! and stuff) brought her boyfriend over.. and my 沈佳仪 is over in malaysia.

sigh.

she came back about.. 3 hours ago, though. and i guess that brought a smile to my face. (:

为什么人会那么假?

孩子不笨

watched this with Henry and the rest today as a sort of ‘pre-18th celebration’ seeing as his birthday falls on this year’s 初一.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HENRY! (in advance)

and i thought that for a Singaporean production this movie was pretty good. if anything, Singaporean films tend to be a ‘social commentry’ of sorts - film makers like to take a facet of Singaporean culture and from there devise a plot, and in this case, it’s somewhat centered around the whole loanshark (ah long) issue and the whole rebellious-teenager thing.

i’m not quite sure if there’s a main plot or subplot or whatever, because the movie centers around the lives and families of two teenagers in ITP (something.. something.. polytechnic), and yes, they’re probably trying to make a statement there about ITE and how “It’s The End that counts”, or so they say at the credits. it’s one of those more standard, oh-it’s-a-happy-ending, 妈我只错了 kind of things.

i’m not too chuffed. i mean, i had my fair share of laughs throughout the movie and i think that’s enough for me. they actually threw in a few extra tidbits here and there, like.. naming the principal of ITP Leung Kar Wai, or so it says at his desk. LOL.

the movie meant a little bit more to me personally, but.. i think i’ll keep that private.

—

went off to chompchomp to eat, and when i think back about it, our conversations (as guys) can centre around only two things: games or girls. it’s really that basic, but.. i’m kind of wondering where that level of basic conversation went, because i’m quite sure there’s nobody else i can actually chat like this with. maybe on an individual level, perhaps, but as a group..?

i’m not sure what to think. 我的青春去了哪里?!