You cant see me

Few months have passed since I embarked on this journey to self-improvement. I may have achieved a considerable amount of it but I'm nowhere near the finished product. Almost synonymous to the force-field analysis in management, my absurd amount of driving forces for change is quite certainly to be met by increasing restraining forces stacked up against me.

My biggest vice is that I discreetly hate to be that particular forlorn figure standing on the sidelines watching everyone else adapt so well. While simultaneously wanting so fervently to be able to take the long hour ride home. But I have come to question myself time and time again, will being home make a change? The prospect of home sounds endlessly appealing.

Undoubtedly I'm going home to figure myself out. Figure this out. This whole rut that I've put myself through. I will need to be refreshed to shake off this envy. The green envy. But what will two weeks improve? Will it serve its course of refreshment or will it bog down my efforts?

I think I'm a dark character. Twisted by sensitivity. Yearning for attention. Which has probably been the contributing force as to why my adolescent years were plagued with depressive spells. Right up to this day, those traits might never have gone too far from me. I'm like a shadow, never stepping out into the light but there's a certainty that I'm there, following behind nonetheless.

I am the king of mediocrity. Achieving at the middle-most degree. Never excelling in anything undertaken. I've always wanted to be the best at some things I do, but I cant even acknowledge something I do good. While other peers have gone on to become someone better, I'm still that someone teetering on the borderline of failure and acceptence. I'm so exceptionally good at nothing that I take winning the sperm race really seriously as an achievement. No, that was stupid.

As a mere reader, albeit all the words, there are so many things that you just cant comprehend about me.

I wish you could. Really really.

Jinn

Outlook update

This is me now.

Passive aggressive

Its safe to assume that my best days are way behind me. And that the best is still yet to come.

Merely done with half a year here and I find myself cultivating some sort of angst, an unconditional despise for the locals. Partly contributed by the fact that there has been too much racism and discrimination bestowed upon the superior race, practiced with the guidance of devilish forms such as binge drinking. Or maybe just routine ignorance to be brought up with. I'm may not be someone to talk however, being just a visitor to this stolen land. Even in my beautiful land of home I'm aptly labelled an "immigrant" for that matter.

Though I'm not here to be an advocate against racism am I? However disgustingly appealing it may seem, its set to stay for a long time more.

Despite having to be wary finding my way around, I've been doing better than the last time I checked in here with something substantial. Been going around alot, getting my calendar filled. The state library remains my favourite haunt. The free internet is besides the point. I'm more than happy to burrow myself in a corner and do my shit. Yes, I'm a corner person. Took awhile to get accustomed to getting around the library as big as a museum. Well, it partly is a museum.

I finally got my first semester of assignments tucked away nicely in the lecturers' dropbox as well. Hoping to prove myself right that I'm more inclined to being hands-on because I never do my best in full-scale exams. In the course of time, management has established itself as my forte, my front-running subject, and as much as my attempts to contribute this to the fact that I have indulged in 8 days, 2 hours, 51 minutes worth of football manager is abit far-fetched. I think this is my stepping stone to becoming a great football manager. A career option I would never dismiss, although not valid in terms of Malaysian football.

So far most of my assignments have fetched better than average. Although to think I'm only treading water in my first year would extinguish some shine into that notion. However may I stress that it is not easy. Its like how SPM was when you were in form 5. And to come out to college and say it was nothing.

On fashion level, I find myself more inclined to dressing up more korean-like. Pardon my stereotyping. My hair certainly plays the part, my body shape has dramatically altered to make a size 32 pair of skinny jeans seem like a size 36. I never leave home without my essentials, like any metrosexual, I have essentials now, that certain items can only be paired with complementary accessories. A scarf, my converses or onitsuka tigers, my d60 (I'm still yet to do justice to its hefty price), ear studs, and a country road bag that slings around your arms like a conventional handbag. There are still some Gucci shades and Ferragamo belts that I've yet to conquer. I'm just kidding. Or am I?

I think the correct term for the look I'm trying to achieve is bohemian.

Prioritising by importance, I'll be returning home on the 7th of July to restock on basic topman tees (the tight bright ones), a leather jacket, new lenses, mock thick-framed glasses, more skinny jeans, a fedora and a beanie (preferably with nice ear-flaps and a little cotton ball hanging from the top). Before family and meeting old acquaintances. And suzy, oh how much I've missed her.

Jinn

Monstrosity

Blog readers, meet Muffin.
Muffin, meet blog readers.

Requiem

Beautiful sunny autumn day in Melbourne city.

Testing

I'm testing out blogging from my iPhone. Seems like it works pretty well.

Honest

I love how millions of people flood their blogs with their genuine, raw thoughts.

I recently slipped into my prior state once again. Apparently it seems I'll be languishing in it for a longer time to come. Why do I end up so miserable here? In addition to my cousin, as a housemate who wouldn't even wash my one dirty plate along with the kitchen crockery that he uses, he just washes his stuff and leaves that one plate alone, just because I used that fucking plate and not him. Since when did things become so segregated? My fucking plate is your fucking plate.

I'm doing beer bottles one after the other, with my head spinning, I thought I was supposed to feel nothing. Even if I do, I wasn't supposed to give a fuck. But why do I still care, if not more than ever why I feel so insignificant?

Why am I subjected to being this way? Dont I deserve to feel like everybody else? Not crawling around this shithole I'm in, waiting for a fucking change that doesn't seem to be coming.

Stop neglecting my existence. I deserve a place in your life as much as everyone else. Unless I'm that one entity that you loathe, then tell me you loathe me and lets be done with it. This goes out to everyone.

Haha, is it me or do I sound pathetic? So uninspired. So low. I'm not here for your sympathy though. So you can keep that. I'm trying to be fucking honest behind that facade.

Oh change, where the fuck are you???

Oh god, I've had one too much to drink.

Jinn

SomebodyNobodyAnybody?

"You may not have won anything, but at least you're a someone from a no one."

That up there, quoted by my former athletics coach, respectfully referred to as sir Zol. Who then, has clearly no idea about the real definition of my being a someone now.

I miss being that someone then. The belonging to a fraternity, a posse in which your significance is undefined. Not precisely limited.

Now, I'm just a somebody, living as a nobody in a land of everybody.

Sitting down here in the glow of my reading lamp, while (almost)the whole Melbourne sleeps. My heightened sensations in brief periods of silence never fails to amaze me. I listen to the whizz of the passing car's tyres as they brush against the foundations of the street below, the subtle clicks of footsteps (the same sound you get when you crush hard candy with your molars) on pavements and the occassional incomprehensible yabber of the beloved street's late-night pedestrians. Possibly drunk. High from crack and cocaine. Little things I love to assume, it intrigues me.

Out of a realisation I suspect, I conjure a flattering idea under my breath.

"What a great time to be alive."

When humanity is at its peak. Where progression is stagnant. The people around us, basking in the glory of modernisation. Is this really where the beginning of the end starts?

And then like the fleeting life of the poor mayfly.

"It is also a great time to cease."

Jinn