I'm reading this book by Vernon Howard upon recommendation by a friend. I think I really needed it, so I took up the recommendation. After all, it's not true that everyone can cope with rejection as it comes. It's not something to be glorious about. But the real me doesn't think I should just cover it up as a vulnerable spot.
I'm just thinking over it. Although I'm trying not to think about the crisis for the moment. Really, I can't blame anyone, except for myself and how I controlled my emotions.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
If no one cheers me on...
It is always a challenge to scrape together my thoughts to cough up a reflection of my current life. Even more challenging is finding joy at the dull lack of milestones in my life. In contrast, the newspaper, which involve collective human experiences is much more interesting. Asking a girl out becomes a challenge, second to asking a friend out. Then there's always the basal dread of long-term commitments towards my goals and ambitions. I wonder why often, I inevitably find myself -freaking hell- worrying about today, and not enjoying my life to the fullest. Yes, I'm sulking here. My little hiding place.
Meanwhile, I have got things to do (On my own). I have gotten all too comfortable in my current life - it's easy to get depressed. If no one will encourage me on, at least I can conjure up an imaginary friend (light a match like the matchstick girl) that says with a little voice: "C'mon ZH, it's only a quarter in your life journey. You've GOT to pull up your socks!!"
Embrace your dreams. do not leave room for doubt
Meanwhile, I have got things to do (On my own). I have gotten all too comfortable in my current life - it's easy to get depressed. If no one will encourage me on, at least I can conjure up an imaginary friend (light a match like the matchstick girl) that says with a little voice: "C'mon ZH, it's only a quarter in your life journey. You've GOT to pull up your socks!!"
Embrace your dreams. do not leave room for doubt
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
it's funny, bcos sometimes i hate the text i'm just hammering right down.
I REALLY HATE MY STYLE OF WRITING. A read of past entries, just make me want to puke, vomit-blood, slap my thigh and laugh hysterically.
It's just the BLATANT LACK OF CAPS, and PHOTOS amid the sterile text. The text is lost, and longs to cling for the mother picture. The text is raw material that has no fixed form. It does not crawl to a Stop. It travels nowhere. And it suffers relentless abuse from your eye-gazing, your restless cursor - just stop - hovering - over me right now, or I'll - get angry. . . *there's no point in this entry*
and so it ends
I REALLY HATE MY STYLE OF WRITING. A read of past entries, just make me want to puke, vomit-blood, slap my thigh and laugh hysterically.
It's just the BLATANT LACK OF CAPS, and PHOTOS amid the sterile text. The text is lost, and longs to cling for the mother picture. The text is raw material that has no fixed form. It does not crawl to a Stop. It travels nowhere. And it suffers relentless abuse from your eye-gazing, your restless cursor - just stop - hovering - over me right now, or I'll - get angry. . . *there's no point in this entry*
and so it ends
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