It was your hello that kept me hanging on every word.

It was your goodbye that kept me listening for your voice around each corner.

Just left with the tsd theory paper, and I'll be down with a's. At this point, I feel as though it went by as slowly and quickly as I thought it would. So much faster on the nights before the paper, and ten times faster in the exam itself.  So friggin slow when you think about the fact that I started on 9th november and will end 4th december.

Haven't felt so saturated in a long time. My brain was probably lose all mental capacity when I die outside the exam hall from exhastion after all this. Slight hyperbole here. But maybe a little more bent and broken over these months, from the perpetual paperchase and the heartache that sometimes follows me ever so persistently.

Frankly speaking, I am looking forward to the 4th. But not the dance-around-and-celebrate-screaming " hell yeah!" kinda way, this I saw alot inside and outside the hall today. This temporary relief looks so welcoming, but I do know that it will come, and leave. Like it is supposed to. I am looking forward to promised nights of fun and frivolity, with best friends and love. I am dying to just flop around at places and let the day's activites be spontaneously planned. But somehow I feel that that is not going to happen, not in the fullest extent which I earlier desired for at least. 

Unexpectedly, I passed the first selection round and am down for a written exam at sph right after the a's, and if that works out, hello 6 months internship. I've ealier made plans to volunteer and get a job which will be as fulfilling as possible, along with all the idling that I intend to do. This will probably not actualize if sph smiles upon me.

This might be slightly late but I have come to realize that sph and warwick might not be what I really want.

I don't realy need/want that to validate myself. I do understand that ambition and aspirations can blind and more often than not, can be unfulfilled.

I can't place it just yet, and I do know that there are things before me that will soon be in reach, things that I will go, regretfully and probably for the better. There will be faces that I will forget, memories for me to keep, plans for me to make, promises for me to keep or break, dreams that will crushed and relived again. I am bracing myself. This is growing up and this is sweet misery.

Rather waste some time with you.

I am extremely frustrated. Because I have been putting off reading the Gatsby readers all day. Because I have been getting increasingly restless. Because my body clock is officially beyond repair, and I fall asleep only when the lights streams in my bedroom. Watched a film tonight, and put off work. The second one is waiting for me. I just feel as though I need to be on a perpetual vacation. Not the right time I know. My perception's shifting, things are shifting a little, sometimes I feel that some matters are already far beyond me, most of the time I am convincing. I'll get by.

Reading The Great Gatsby again in the preparation for wednesday's paper had been a rather disconcerting, yet in many ways, familiar experience. The words had gave some thoughts clarity. This telling of a dream that is far beyond the dreamer has been at some moments a heartache to read. Don't we all know enough of enchanted moments and the ephermal quality of belief?

Where a heightened sensitivity to the promise of life is but one half of one's energy - the other being a passionate denial of life's limitations.

A phone conversation with a friend this morning ( a ridiculously early one) had made me wonder whether am I one of the few who had once believed in dreams and miracles. She had expressed surprise to my mention of my faith in seemingly unchangable things. I should know better really. Old desires to relive moments, the same wishes to stop the hands of time and halt the decay that it brings. I should know better.

Nothing worse than a hopeless dreamer.

But can't we at least give credit to the loyalty and fiedity to this belief? Choosing to believe that the failure is in the fact that what is to be achieved is already in the past, and far behind, choosing to believe that the failure is not in the dreamer, not in the lack of perception.

I know too well of crushed dreams and blurred vision. But I do know that vision does not clear in an instant. The waking up from a long stupor needs time for adjusting and thoughts to shift and heart to accomodate. I may be bent and broken (aren't we all?), but with the little sensible faith I have left, I'll hold on the belief that there is something better beyond this devastation. 

And here's some love going out to whoever who needs it.

You can be my Florida Sunshine if you melt away this ice.

Fumbled through a series of papers, I am left with only two more.

Goodbye junior college and youth and fervour.

Bracing myself for just a little more of the exam stress dosage and the exam hall war. Somewhat preparing myself for a frenzy of madradfrivolity and long hours of being a slug. Though more often than that, I feel that I am raring to go, just not academia-wise.

It's not as though I don't enjoy schooling. I do love the subjects I am taking. Math is irrelevant here. At this moment, just extremely annoyed with this need to abide to the syllabus and the constant mad rush to finish writing essay after essay in allocated time. Would have love more time to fully appreciate both sets poems in the lit paper. And definitely just not reading 2 case studies for every single geography topic. Hate the term "case study". Tsd and the teacher have left me clueless as to how to answer any alevel style question, though the content has been and probably will be exciting, there's still so much more to know and experience. I don't see how I am satisfied either way.

So much more beyond this.

The constant semi-sortof-epiphanies over the past few weeks have caused my perception to shift, slightly, but probably in a way I know I would want welcome. Knowing and wanting, hardly intertwine well. But I do know that I am not going to settle.

All fears of mediocrity aside, all worries and pride aside, I will get by and I hope with more than my own will.

Need lesser baggage.  

Read.

xdancehalldrug is now officially locked.

Most entries will be private. Some protected entries for xanga friends.

With the purpose of keeping my memories safe.  I no longer feel comfortable placing all my entries on the web for all to view. As I look back to the 18 years that had  passed me, I reach the occasional blur memory, lines forgotten, scenes missing. It scares me to no end that one day my mind might forget what all this has meant to me. That I might forget these frenzies of emotions, thoughts that kept me up all night, the faces that make me smile, the moments that I declare "infinite", the familiarity and uncertainity life hurls at me. 

This will be brutually honest and occasionally incoherent. This is my attempt to protect my memories for all they are worth.

Love, Eva.