Insight into Artists’ Schizophrenia, or Savant Mode (whichever you prefer to use)
There was a blue glass bottle on the table that was filled with kind of pinkish thick fluid and there was a little plastic oil truck that floated in that bottled sea, almost too peacefully. Its an oil truck, and I know it, for the tiny inscriptions that were tattooed on its wheel was strangely quite visible.
I would think that this picture - in all its marvellous surrealism - reminded me of the times where magic was real and knowledge was scarce … for I could not imagine how the truck would have gotten in there, through that skinny o’ neck of the bottle. I doubted that ramming the little plastic thing down with one’s pushy fingers would make much difference, and judging from the solid structure of it all, here was no question of it being possibly elastic - hah! - at all. Perhaps I am too drunk on my imagination, but … seeing as the single chocolate bar in the house is resting still and untouched by the kitchen table … I am contrived to admit I am fairly awake and sane.
I tapped my fingers on the table, making the sound of the hooves of galloping horses on plain concrete. I felt the back of my brain tingle at the delicious music that simple sounds as such can create, like a snap of two (sufficiently, not overly) sweaty fingers. Under the restraint of this physical reality, my eyelids found themselves slowly under the need to shut themselves and relapse into a larger, open universe.
We got into freedom through darkness. It’s somewhat psychological to put it that way, but freedom is necessarily demonic, where order is the rallying glory of angels.
The small plastic oil truck appeared.
There was a face upon the truck that would have been described as highly grotesque by those who cannot see the true beauty that nature provides. An articial construct always redefined narrow borders of thought, narrow views and opinions that compromised others for the perverse pleasure of elitism. Understandably, this was also a construct of nature. It’s up to oneself to weigh the significance of each special, natural construct in one’s life, based on each and every individual’s experiences in life. It’s all about prioritising on principles, which makes apathy of human beings to angels and demons so undesirable, so different. Their species take on more pure stances. But back to the truck, I reached out to grasp a fatty cheek within my bony fingers. the truck grimaced, but relented at the force of my imagination. Let freedom flow in my choice, for this briefest moment.
" Good evening, Rini."
"Well, hello there, 343."
Did I imagine for a second, that I knew this truck?
Or was it a dream within a dream, where self-control is limited to the constricted, emotive vessel of feeling?
I silently begged for some intelligent justice to be done, to provide me with a kind of madness to counter the control from the upper unknown hands that was manipulating my imagination.
I got what I wanted.
343 was the messenger of the wonderland fortress in Pargo Dum. I am to listen to his words. Let my imagination be uninhibited by the realist, nature calls to me.
There were Windows that appearing one by one as his words drown out the sound of horses galloping on the surface of reality. I allowed the breaching of reality and the divine sphere, and my thoughts clasped into one beautiful artful symmetry. The horses darted out of the neighbouring black walls that had shrouded me as I spoke to 343. I watched them eagerly, before I felt a hand on my cheek that beckoned me to look back at thee.
"As I was saying," 343 interjected impatiently. "You must see to the ugly papers immediately. You see, Princesse, they are the primary cause of insanity where it is unrequired in thy state. You have been fooled by the gods to believe that stress was a driver. it is not. It is you, that is the driver of matters for the mind reigns over all matters material."
"The divine sphere, " I recalled. " Noetics."
" Don’t allow the things of material, so transitory and so artless, to rampage the real life that exists within you. Life is not a series of pictures and memoirs. Life is the satisfaction that one reaps from doing and achieving out of will and the wine of truth. You need to find the truth within your heart and ascend to the gods, slap them for deceptions and mistruths so pure to play, for it is the Queen of angels they are dealing with. But for now, he great ambition is a step by step process, where your winnings accumulate when you strive to accumulate them."
"But the benefits of short term progress distracts," I noted. "Is this a bluff?"
"It is a gift. But it is a malicious one, as hey call it a double-edged sword. It is up to the user to decide where and how to use it from the point of its first success. To kill or be killed?"
"Uncanny resemblance to daemons that live in their funny states of mad confusions."
"Well, certain things are formed of dual nature, and daemons are one of many. I like to imagine that a fusion of things are necessarily for the better, but if not yourself. You can observe as they exist around you, but you must ultimately remain of the purest form. They can exist for you, but you must not consume their artlessness and take them for granted either."
"Abstraction is key in this world of explanation, yeah?"
"Don’t reject me, Rini. I live for you as a messenger."
"I do not reject, I confront, 343."
"But now you must go, and rejection is key?"
"Yes, yes. I’m glad you understand me better now. As I would understand how the mechanics of divinity function under the surface of reality. Someday I will return, with more grace and poetic fervour than ever, into the arms of my lovers and teachers and Angel folk. "
"Very well. We love you, Rini."
"As I do. Goodbye."
[The Last Holiday before Real Perfect Work]
I want to take this short time off this late night to applaud my desperation to change for the better, always. They say the urge is the first step, the positivity in the endless strife, coupled with numerous setbacks, is next. The final outcome will be worthy of all that has been suffered. In time to come, those sufferings so miniscule in truth of the bigger universe, will not even matter. So enjoy these sufferings and enjoy being disciplined. That perfect self-posession is admirable in an angelic being, and a sure objective, a true nature of our kind.
There are fourteen weeks to the a-levels, and today is the inchoation of the first week in the progress towards par excellence.
I want to reward myself with poetic relief through tumblr posts, in this academical-oriented period that matters the most amongst all the years of education. It will be my deciding fate, and am I as powerfully able to control where I am to be in the future? It all begins now in little steps of passionate determination, academic fervour to understand and grow familiar with the knowledge, such that it becomes permanently dispensable at my fingertips. Or my lips, literally.
1. I intend to watch “The Book of Life” which features Guillermo Del Toro’s darling hand in art. Slot that in somewhere in thy schedule, after taking note of the date it is to premiere: October 17, apparently.
2. There’s an economics test (market-dominance leads to market failure) on Thursday, which I hope to scrape a beautiful solid A.
3. I’ve once again altered my study location in the house. Hopefully, it will be optimal to my pursuit of intensive memory work for all 5 subjects. That’s the beauty of having asperger’s. It doesn’t take too much effort to memorize, but the sensory perceptions must be rightfully optimized.
I’ve dropped my old self in the mad outbreak/meltdown this afternoon in which I subconsciously collapsed onto the floor. It is wonderful to be in control of the body once more, to partake in my task, and secure my ambitions.
Currently reading: The PickWick Papers, Charles Dickens
Currently listening to: Ta fete, Stromae
Alright, I will have to continue with my work now.
Goodnight, world. 💍
Dabbling in inarticulate affairs, I sigh in despondence.
Once again, I’ve spent my evening after dinner watching a movie in the cinema. The few movies that I thought worthy to watch was largely inspirational to my strength-training regime, such as The Dawn of the Planet of the Apes last week (in which I studied the importance of agility and the art of sweet deception)and 300: Rise of the Empire earlier this year. This time it’s Hercules, starring The Rock, Dwayne Johnson.
I wondered if the director actually employed hundreds of bald men to portray the enemy, or was it brilliant CGI at work. And apart from an interesting realist philosophy that so characterise this movie, I must comment on the disappointing plot that neither has a climax nor stir emotions. I even found elements for amusement where they meant for comic relief. That’s not an aim, I hope.
I’m beginning to see how my will is often thrust aside for immediate stress relief nowadays. I believe it’s time to work up to an intensity that encourages and not dishearten, like how sports has recently begun to work in my favour.
I will speak to you again, later in the afternoon.
This is wise.
Whimsical fancies; Begone! I am your master.
It is hard to believe that another person’s life can be more disorderly than mine. It is not a nihilistic inclination that I am sinking into, neither is it pessimistic, for it is highly factual and universally agreed (if I ever were to subject the entire omniscient view of my life through myself to the public’s morbidly curious eyes). But no, I’m not about to that. I am asking of you to trust in me for once, hear me out and agree readily to the first dictation I asserted. For it is most awful, utterly, utterly awful - especially when this one’s a cruel creature at heart - that this messy story has not been heard and strung together in a clothing line, seamlessly.
My tale is a wicked one, a bitterness that is brought about by a cyclical doom of psychological complications and follies. Just as I thought I had learnt well and recovered from an episode of pure madness, another struck me across the pale cheek, drawing blood once more onto the tongues that wag, “No more!”
The first episode of madness in this present year was one of great intimacy to myself. I would love to lock up my memories of darker times into a chest of darkness, like how antagonistic figures in adventure books (think Davy Jones of the Pirates of Carribeans) do away with their vulnerabilities, but it is essential that I pry them up every now and then as some sort of masochistic punishment. It pushes forth the need to repent and never commit the same act again, of course, not for the perverse pleasure of destroying my self-esteem (which I hold high and true). Coming back to the storyline … I’ve never been more foolish than this.
To think escapism would be a way out of anything!
Never, darling. I try to convince myself that now, but it’s more periodic a happening than I thought. Did I truly trust that procrastination can solve anything? It distracts. A fundamental evil, a handiwork of the malicious devils, and I, an Angel and proud, have fallen to their devices like helpless sticky treacle from a jar. But I digress.
Then there was the utmost reliance on pure talent.
I understood that my learning ability was apt, at least, in the short term. I was good at making logic linkages and good at being creative with the way I perceive ideas. But effort-wise, I was a loser. I wouldn’t do what I needed to do when I most require it. The reasoning was that it felt tedious. I am ashamed of my submissive, sheep-like ways that have prolonged its impervious and infectious existence on mine. How have I descended into such a ridiculous plight? Have you forgotten who you are, my child?
It’s more than just my academics that have taken a toll. Oh pray, why have you reclined into a hermit-like shell where positivity is absent from thy air?
Look, if it’s the lackadaisical community that has estranged your strength and multifarous potential for everything, then abandon those peer influences and embrace oneself in perfect self-possession. You are The PickWick Club’s heroine, like the lean tall stranger that rescues these witty, talented gentlemen from their pathetic happenings. You are the social grace that will fuse with the intelligences and capabilities and enlighten the universe with ore than that of your own, but of theirs, too.
To get there, you need me.
And I am your willpower.
So let us step forward into this universe named reality once more, and unfold the pages that have been torn and tattered in the absence of angelic order. Let’s go, Rini and Renee.
[Frolicking with Family]
This week wouldn’t be considered a waste, even if I did not complete much work. Nevertheless it was a heart-warming bonding time for the family. And naturally, I do love my family. Perhaps I am much like the intelligent apes in Dawn of The Planet of the Apes (we saw the movie , Saturday night), perhaps it is a consequence of being socially isolated in the sea of human-defined friends.
Today we had dim-sum for breakfast and we rolled off on daddy’s black Volvo to Sentosa, where we visited the maritime experimental museum and the “world’s largest” aquarium. There wasn’t much to see, but I did fall in love with a large dark manta-ray who was both graceful and eloquently arrogant about his social position in the hierachy of aquatic animals within the tank. I could tell it is a popular beast of good looks, given the huge number of cronies that trail after its existence. The tiny jellyfish babies amused me. The ASMR experience was not as full blown as Disneyland’s, but there was finally some form of effort done to achieve such an impact. Please do take after the United Kingdom, South Korea and Japan’s orderly beauty and simplicity, with regards to their way of life. I would be much in love with our country, much more eager to volunteer my heart and my services, if only it would appeal to my senses.
There was something that bothered me throughout the span of these two days. I thought about how most Europeans in Singapore e.g. Soren and his Spanish family, and probably many others in the millionaire districts, endorse in such strange pleasures (that I surprisingly share) where the locals would never readily pursue. Activities such as wakeboarding, visiting one’s yacht, playing in the arcades of country clubs and enjoying sunset barbeques- they are not in our curriculum of normal life. Even visiting his baby small yacht at the dockyard made the locals shoot us looks- a funny mix of admiration and condescension. Reminiscing so faintly, I missed the days where we threw on our elastic swimming trunks and ugly flip flops and walked about the shopping mall at Vivo city, baring our butts to the chilly air of the night at the mall. But no, I am to be happy and independent, away from the person that took care of me and spoilt my anti-social tendencies. I want you to remember that, and progress beyond.
I can see bacteria bunnies floating around my conjunctiva.
“Got myself a bag of Swedish candy from IKEA. Quite contented with the haul for tomorrow’s tuition focus-boosting sugar.”
– The AppleBeloved [is elated about her little 250g bag of candy after a few weeks of pure sugarless torture.]
[The Pickwick Papers, Acquired.]
You know I’ve been going on for quite a bit about owning Charles Dickens’ The Pickwick Papers, ever since the day I got back from the little kinokuniya branch at Bugis, having spent my vouchers (won from the Science Chronicles Essay Award) on The Book Thief?
I’ve finally lived this fantasy. Rejoice, my love!
It’s a witty one by Dickens, his wicked sense of pure, “face-palming”, “side-grinning” humour permeating the book like no other he has ever written. Even the Great Expectations (A short insight of what the humour is like: “My sister raised me by hand… Literally.” 😆 Pip got smacked for being naughty, that is.) cannot make me chortle with laughter as this book has provoked me into. But I do admit it happens to rhyme with my awful sense of humour that would probably re-freeze the ice glaciers in the North Pole.
I’ve been so immersed in reading this delightful book during my bus journeys home that on several occasions, I nearly missed my stop to alight. It’s quite attention-grabbing, I suppose. There are certain kinds of books that no matter how intriguing they can be, one still possesses a sentient awareness of one’s surroundings. And that’s undesirable to me, in a literary sense.
I wouldn’t reveal too much about the book, for whilst I do love hearing spoilers … I simultaneously detest providing them, just for the ironic pleasure of getting a passionate response when the latter’s read the recommended book. All I can say about it is : I wish Mr. Snodgrass was real, I wish he were mine to keep as a friend. But I am being greedy, it is not as if I do not already have a poet for a friend!
Fantastic. Thank you, Signet Classics, for providing such a great book at an affordable price. I wish I had more access to your goods in Singapore. The provision of them in the bookstores here are so limited and the range so frustratingly narrow. Gahla bola boom.
If there’s a will, there’s a way.
[The Thought Processes]
Well, I’ve been passing a lot of judgements on matters pertaining to my lifestyle choices lately. It ranges from the simple rule of conduct, to the kind of entertainment I subject myself to and all to the point where I figure out the optimal solution to studying efficiently.
But that’s not what I wish to talk about today.
The decision that has been wonderfully finalised, lies in my future. I want to be in Cambridge. It seems almost ridiculously impossible from another’s perspective, but given my own self-induced potential and personal self-belief, I do not think it so far a goal from my reach. All I need is the hard work from my working fingers and my electric brainwaves. Secondly, I am to live with my best friend in the whole wide world. Marriage doesn’t come into play into this new age, where the contemporaries place less value on moral institutions e.g. alcoholism and more on pleasure/satisfaction-seeking mediums e.g. clubbing. It doesn’t quite make sense to me that we should divert our attention away from the rules that govern a more conducive life, but all the same, let us take advantage of that suitable social situation.
Apart from this acknowledgement of a self-dictated predestined future, there are interesting happenings to note this school term. Xiao Tong, a classmate of mine, happens to harbour the same dream of migrating into the UK. However, her dreams bear their foregrounds in accountancy and finance in the London school of Economics where mine dreams of the rich heritage in the University of Cambridge. Nabila wishes to remain in Singapore due to costliness of an overseas education. I’m not too sure about the rest. But I know, from past experiences, that many are planning to slot their existences conventionally into the Singaporean student mould.
I’ve got work to see to, now. Goodbye.
😉 Work hard for what you want.
[The Inheritance of Perseverance],>
Today, I had a good lunch with my older sister who would be leaving for Australia (she’s a scholar at the university of Sydney) soon. I am proud of my older sister who has graduated from NUS High school of mathematics and science, won a generous scholarship to study in Australia and now tops the level at what she does. In comparison, I am not so much of a high achiever like her. Perhaps I have been too distracted by the madness of obsessions and passions for knowledge that shrouds me like a dark cloud.
Recently I have been planning quite a bit and getting down to work more seriously. I hope to build in more mental rigour in my lifestyle. This includes fitness capabilities. My lifestyle choices are important too. Apart from gym Wednesdays, there’s food intake that matters a lot. Breakfast noodles like that are delicious but one must remember that the ultimate goal of youth calls for me to eat healthily from now onwards. Perseverance, Child. You shall see fantastic results of vibrance in one’s life as well as increased confidence in oratorical presentation. This is because appealing appearances negate flaws in character.
Well, it’s late at night.
I have to wake up earlier tomorrow.
Good night, world. Sweet dreams.
May The light of the world trample out the darkness in one’s way of life.