Check Left&Right Mirror, Beware of Vehicles Overtaking and Motorcycles Squeezing. Signal "Right", Check Blindspot and Confirm Safe. Then Proceed Safely

I can't dangle fancy words around no more, so I'm gonna be straightforward.

I had tears streaming down today. I sat in that empty enormous, air-conditioned room and cried to myself. I am angry at the establishment, disappointed with my inability to make things right and moreover (God, I don't even know if I'm using that word "moreover" accurately), I feel fucked by my current circumstances.

I don't even know where to begin.

I sorta got dumped by N, because she couldn't stand being around with such an angry and violent man like myself. I totally get it. I'm violent by nature, I think. I inherited that from my father. But I am trying to change the energy into a positive one. And where did that energy come from?

I guess you can say that it comes from the many, many disappointments I have for myself.

1. My inability to write cohesive sentences and stories.
2. Lacking the creativity pond to dip in for a mind like mine.
3. Unable to make short films
4. Loss of intellectual ideas and beliefs
5. Loss of advices for friends
6. Too tired to make an effort to exercise my mind
7. Lost touch with world affairs
8. Social circle slowly decreasing (like there is one to begin with -.-)
9. Social skills are getting worse.
10. English skills are getting worse.
11. I can't do strenuous mental calculations anymore.
12. I don't have time to creatively participate in an activity.
13. Unable to get help for my elder sister's foodie business.

And I was annoyed that N called me a "woman". I have a lot of things on my mind that day and army's causing me short-term memory loss.. It didn't help that she was joking, while I was rushing to get my essential items. I always found it a sexist statement but I usually just ignore it. But something just snapped that day. And the maid, Ani, gave me an answer to my question with an attitude, that I just blew my top off.
*Note that I did not say "Request"

At least school was enjoyable you know. Driving course is just full of ugh. But I don't really quite know how to make of it.

I always knew army life was going to change me. I only didn't know it was a really drastic change. Hell, I can deal with discipline and regiment because I was once from a military school band. Why is it that I'm always having a difficult time adjusting to all of it?

I am tired. Shall continue next time.

Postmordem of a Dead Language

When I was suddenly tasked with a nearly impossible essay to write, it's a daunting and scary feeling that overwhelm my insides. How was I suppose to write again after many months of inactivity. Honestly, I rather pick up music again and play the piano to my heart's content. Or even just jamming and whacking the drums would be the preferable choice of expressing myself. Not through words, this time, I'm afraid.

The art form of essay is lost on me. It's not that I am hesitant about writing. It's that the words, the vocabulary, the sentences and beautiful phrases aren't coming to me. And it seems for now, that musical stanzas and chords are more relatable to me than English.

Plus, the essay that N proposed to me has to be about how my family has affected my judgement on people, environment and, basically, things around me. Spanning over 21 years, little did I realize that my life is actually a tremendous source of anecdotes. How am I suppose to condense all those stories into an essay and then reflecting on my parents' and siblings' actions?

Yeah I know it's possible. But there are just too many stories to recount and it takes time and inspiration to come up with the descriptive language to properly address them from how I saw things happened.

So instead of writing my essay, I have absconded to my bedroom, while that crazy English teacher of a nut friend is downstairs playing the goddamned piano, to blog about not being able to ascend to anything.

Funny thing is, I have written some stuff...

I guess it's a start? Slow start though..

Like my driving instructor said to me yesterday at the driving course: Don't ganchiong. Would you rather be safe or dead?