Damn my infinitesimal memory

Pardon the title. It all started when I realised I haven't been using english for a while now and my vocab was getting rusty so I decided to read a word a day. You know, open the dictionary and find a word I don't already know and learn it. Well, the word of the day was "infinitesimal" which means extremely small, tiny. I didn't get it at first because "infinite" means unlimited, limitless, impossible to measure and so how come "infinitesimal" means tiny? I looked it up and found that it was originally used to describe an object so small that there is no feasible way of measuring the object although it does exist and not "zero". Huh.

Anyway, I was digressing.

I haven't been writing for so so long now because I forgot the email and password that I used for this blogger account. And if you read the post just below this you can see that this is not the first time it has happened. Hence the title.

I also realised that I haven't been doing the project therapy that I wrote about in my last post. Or more accurately, I have been doing it but I just kept it in my laptop instead of posting it. I am extremely busy (ask any Industrial Eng. student and they would confirm this) such that I have no time to post stuff. Plus, truth be told, I kinda forgot about the whole thing.

But, like I said, I have written some articles that were supposedly to go under Project Therapy. And I re-read them and I remembered why I didn't post them in the first place.

They were too personal.

I mean, I started writing them as a way to vent out my emotions. whether its longing or sadness or anger. Still I know I should keep it in check because I know my blog is open to the scrutiny of the whole world wide web. But the articles that was meant to be Project Therapy are just too personal. I guess I got carried away. They always start the same, just reminiscence of a person whom the article is about (or a place or an object) and it is funny and generally harmless. Then I enter this state of soul-searching where I literally poured out whatever unsaid emotions and things related to this person/place/object into the article. It horrified me of how personal and emotional the articles were becoming and I was afraid to put em on the blog. Afraid of how vulnerable and open I would be to the eyes who read them, and mostly afraid that the person whom I was writing about actually read the articles...Or somebody related to the place/object actually read them. So there they sat, in a folder among my other documents.

But now I feel like I am deliberately not finishing what I had started. So I need a solution. What, I am not entirely sure. For the time being, I will continue writing and maybe adding some more articles about people / places / things I feel strongly about. But I will not post them, yet. Maybe the articles need a really really strict editing, so that what comes out on the blog is not as dangerous (?) as what I have personally on my pc. Maybe. I don't really know. Or maybe I'll just never post them here. sigh.

So here's the million-dollar question: would you want to read about what another person thinks and feels about you? including whatever else he/she has been keeping from you?

or maybe... maybe I can still post them but keep the name of the person/place/object anonymous? but then what if I myself forget what the article is about? sigh.

til then,

Yours truly.

Lost and FOUND!

I havent been writing for a long time.
then suddenly I feel the need to.
and guess what, I FORGOT THE ACCOUNT AND PASSWORD.
*facepalm*

but now I've remembered, guess Im gonna be writing regularly again.
Its this personal project Im planning to carry on. Call it my "Project Therapy".

ANYWAY I had this urge to write so.. urgent that I decided to put it up on fb instead. guess I'll be posting that here then.

so I have been feeling under the weather lately.

no its not the exams, but yes they do cast a grey cloud over my sunlight.

no its not the flu, tho admittedly my constant need of tissue irks me.

I think its just me, missing the old times.

The places, the people, the food, the activities, the scenery, the habits and cultures.

the sights sounds smells feels of everything.

I have always missed them, true, but I think my last trip to the lil red dot just made it worse.

I think its like I get to do what I've wanted to do all along, and yet had so little time for it that I only managed to

do very few of em. Its like the touch-and-go kinda feeling. Like I wasnt allowed to truly reminisce.

To truly let myself get lost in the moment and just enjoy sinking in happiness.

Im not really making sense here, am I? Hmm. I guess the best I can do to describe the feeling is like this:

Imagine you haven’t had a cupcake for years. And its one of those things you really really love.

Now imagine that one day, out of the blue, you are told that you’d be getting one.

Imagine the surprise, then the super elated, excited, pure joy that you feel after the numbness of the shock fades away and the reality sinks in.

Then you really do get the cupcake, and you’re holding it in your hand nibbling it. Trying to savour it to the last bite because you haven’t had it for ages and you truly love it and who the hell knows when you can get another. But there’s a catch; you have to eat it in a super short time-limit.

And just as you were starting to sink in relish, your time was up and the cupcake was taken from you.

Now you can say that you’re happy and grateful that you had the cupcake, but the truth is you would be left with an even bigger longing for it now that you have been given a taste of it.

Keyword : even bigger longing.

This is starting to affect me in the worst ways. It even showed up for some of my friends to see. Today I sat chatting with some of my friends and they pointed out how depressed I sound in the tweets I made the other day. They knew I miss Singapore too. Well, that’s embarrassing. I need to find a way to channel these thoughts so I don’t get mental. Suddenly I remember something a friend told me a way back. Something about how writing about her worries helped her survives another day and just overcome the stress a little.

Writing!

This is my therapy. I’m starting a little personal project. I will be writing about what I miss at the time and hope it helps lighten the load. Already I feel better just by writing this post. Idiot. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

Another thought formed in my head. I can use the writings as a reminder, so that I won’t forget.

Well its unlikely I would forget something or someone I love that easily, but I cant rely on my memories alone.

A written record would be better. And then I can read back and smile !

My heart’s set on this. Im gonna make this project last. Just like how Katniss kept filling in her dad’s book until there’s nothing else she can think of putting in. Besides, I need the practice. Dont want my English getting rusty.

But today Im gonna go back to my calculus, so wont be starting now.

Til then, 

Yes, til I have the luxury of time to regurgitate whatever I have in my mind, this will be all.

Yours truly.