dusk to dawn

Have u ever watched the transition from night to day? Not merely the sunrise, but colour of the firmament before, during and after that. Darkness to light, the end of a chapter and a renewed beginning of another, a flame which destroys yet paradoxically renews anything in comes into contact with.

I love those moments. Especially when I was mugging for TEE. Once day breaks, the psychological threshold is surmounted and I get back to the books with renewed vigour and vim. The rays of sunshine inspire the human heart, just as they give life to plants.

The sad fact is that not many of us would sacrifice sleep just to experience this magical moment, tempting as I make it sound. I wouldn’t. But I long to find the motivation to do so.

Perhaps when I recover my work ethic I might have a chance of doing that.

Till then, id have to be content to be dancing in clubs with artificial lighting, or indulging in inefficient slumber, not for a moment cognisant of what I’m missing.

--------------------------------------------------------

PS. This entry doesn’t sound “me” does it? The lack of “elaborate style”, bombastic words and inclusion of over romanticism. Hongy/joyce?

As

to alla y'all doing As,

its time to put the PEDAL TO THE MEDAL people!

study hard, kick some ass, and reap untold dividends in the future.

we roll, we ride, nothings gonna slow us down.

ahem

ladies n gents, i have an announcement to make

I AM OFFICIALLY ATTACHED!!

yippie-doo-dah-dae

if u guyz are gonna say anything, make sure its congratulatory. if not, kiss my behind.

sundays, anyone?

weekends would be better without sunday afternoons.

another one has come and gone and i've done far less than i planned on doing and i'm also painfully aware that i have less money left than i had planned.

this is not any sort of lament. think of it as a deconstruction of sunday afternoons.

there is a tension here, an unspoken one, that exists in the transition from weekend to work week. it causes us to question the activities that give us pleasure. The boredom of it, the recuperation and steeling oneself to return to work in the morning, it seems like it should be a motivating force.

Except that it isn't.

there is no motivation to be found here, only malaise and ennui. a profound boredom that feels endless and we almost desire the return to work in order to escape it. add to it a nauseous anxiety about money and love and sex and ourselves. We are allowed to reflect on sunday afternoons as we do laundry and listen to music. It gives us a moment to notice that most of us are wasting our lives.

And inside all of this is a desire to simply connect in a real way with other human beings; to feel, if only for a moment, the empathetic presence of some other person. but also not the same old people. the hate i feel for sunday afternoons is a hatred for the absence of novelty in it. I want, now, to connect with new people. to feel again the thrill of friday night spent in a throng of beautiful strangers. held in thrall and enthralling, a tango for the thrill of social dominance, teeth and bodies pressed together.

even thinking about it makes me sick.

so i listen to eurodance, think about what Id like to eat for dinner and set loose the fifth column of my analytical faculties deconstructing this hollow want, when I should actually focus on my critique on the Lockean perception of property distribution which is due tomorrow.

thoughts of ignorance

I’m meant to be reading the Australian case of Mabo now, but I had the sudden impulse to blog. Special mention goes to Stefan Broderick and Mr Q for their excellent correspondence in addressing this issue which I am going to write about. (I wouldn’t be surprised if Stefan has or will blog about this also)

I never liked science as a notion of explaining the world in motion. The promise of science is and always has been a complete set of true and invariably consistent propositions that accurately correspond to the world of objective reality.

I am sceptical. The fact that science in the last two hundred years has grown increasingly byzantine and ecclesiastical in its bearing seems a sign of stagnation. We live in an age where the whole spectrum of science is not really accessible to the general discourse on reality. And if it isn't available to us in our everyday lives, then how real can it really be?

Could it be that science has hit the great and eternal sound barrier of metaphysics as it seeks to stretch its grammar far beyond the point of anything we could ever come to know sensually?

I really wonder if the inability to find in science the one unified picture that will give us absolute knowledge of reality is maybe just a failure to understand the use and limits of language. To advance physics a few hundred years ago, Newton and Einstein had to invent from whole cloth a new mathematics, essentially a new language. Is that even possible now? And if it is, will the new calculus bring only bring us to its own obsolescence in time? Has the paradigm already failed and we're just too stuck in it to notice? How would we know one way or another? What is the nature our relation to a failed paradigm? Does the paradigm fail us or do we fail it? Is all of this just more abuse of language?

Questions with no answers. That’s the primary reason why I dislike philosophy. I’m gonna hate jurisprudence next year. I can feel it in my veins.

Quite a lot has happened since my last entry and I shall try to summarise em here.

On Sunday, I went out to see which hp plan I should get. There was this socialist demonstration going on, with the slogan “a socialist world is possible”. Yea… right…

I was peeved cuz I needed my bank statement to start the plan. Wouldn’t a card suffice? Having made a wasted trip, I trotted back home. Those stupid socialists tried to give me fliers, and being the impeccably well-mannered guy I am, I declined them politely.

I continued to do so, despite the fact I was getting more pissed off by the moment. Till this hippie-no-life-drug-fucked guy cursed me under his breath when I refused his flier. Thereupon I lost my temper, and mimed/shouted obscenities, gesticulating with (I must admit) elaborate play of lips and hands. As I was walking back up to confront him, the WHOLE SOCIALIST MOVEMENT seemed to surround me. That is… not good. Obviously.

But, in order to save my face, I continued shouting. And prepared to hit him. Whereupon the socialist campaigners stopped me. Rather than hit me, which I thought and feared they would, they told me to ignore that guy. He was drunk, as expected.

A few points:
1. that moron dint even have friends within his pathetic movement
2. though I do not empathise with the socialist cause, they arent that bad as human beings after all (unlike my dad)
3. im lucky they didn’t kick my ass
4. I STILL havent got my bank statement

But I do have my cheque book. I just wrote out 2 cheques, one for GBP10120 and the other for GBP1360. I feel powerful.

The warwick trip did not happen for me. I was buried under the weight of legal texts. What a wasted weekend.

To exacerbate my situation, all signs point to the probability of this weekend being no different from the last.

Except imma have a champagne breakfast with jie on Saturday =) caviar, foie gras pate and champagne. Aw…ud better believe it. At home of course, ex la.

SingSoc’s boat party is on Monday. i hope its fun, considering ill probably end up sacrificing my Tuesday morning lectures for it.

I wanna go to Paris on reading week. LV baby. But I doubt it. Too many essays. Law school is sucking the life outta me.

I wanted to blog a few days back, but my baby emailed me with some issues which needed rectification. The exigencies of a relationship precluded my bloggin for that night.

this blog is degenerating to quotidian retellings and ramblings. i have to do something about it. but im really not in the mood for deep or creative entries.

to reiterate, law school is sucking the life outta me

history and integrity

i would like to quote one of joyce n hongy's friends...(u all tell him 4 me can)

"the writer looks into the soul of invented people, the poet into his own soul - but a great historian looks into and grasps the souls of societies. "

how true is that.whilst i could act sophisticated and name-drop several metaphysical theorists who would obviously have a rebuttal to that assertion, i dont care. i completely agree with that statement.

im damn envious of the english/history students.

ah well, law aint that bad i guess.

pple usually compliment me about my adequate grasp of english. but after this past week, i am beginning to doubt my command of the language. and common law judges are really pissing me off. i dont understand the necessity to speak obiter. just give me the bloody ratio damnit!

normal, sane, concise. i dont think the judges, in all their wisdom, understand those concepts.also, as a consequence, ive decided to remove all latinate from my writing.i am really sick of it.

been working pretty hard, though obviously not hard enough. i think the majority of law students are fullashit lei. they say they havent done the required reading blahblahblah. then when the tutor asks a question they display a remarkably cogent grasp of the concepts involved.whereas im completely baffled.cheebie.wanna slap em.

back to the fun stuff!

london's awesome!clubs are pretty good, pple here are pretty nyce.ex tho. and i really need to control my finances. just spent 100quid on the freshers' ball thingy on tues night.jie was high. shez damn hopeless la seriously. but not as bad as u,joyce.u are....amazing.hahahaha.private joke eh.

as most of u know, i am pretty protective about the girls whom i club with.guys alwayz try n pick jie up, (i cant for the life of me understand why they would wanna do that) and... i get... uncomfortable...most of the time im ready to roll ya noe. but the other nite there was this HUGE black dude.

and guess what i said.

"jie, if that guy picks u up, ure on your own."

ive spent GBP600 on clothes also,which doesnt help.

so theres your update about yours truly.

back to cases :(