And this year I find myself exactly where I want to be (and in some ways, exactly where I've always wanted to be) and it feels grand. Honestly it's not been a fun year, in fact it's been pretty excruciating in so many parts - there's been so much near-death weeping (by which I mean when you cry so much it hurts and you don't see how it's physically possible to get through the next moment, and the ones following that that it feels like you're, well, going to die), I was an embarrassing self-absorbed mess for too significant a length of time, and most of all this year I've been incredibly immature and selfish, so god I'm glad the year's almost done. But by the same token it's also been a great year, you know, because after all that ridiculous horrible shit I get it now, I know what it is that I'm looking for in this lifely fandango, and whatever that is has always been right in front of me only I was too self-absorbed to notice. And honestly for the first time in ages I'm genuinely happy, without having it adulterated by general issues and insecurities.

( 2008 In Review )

I saw Avenue Q today, and it was immense. Which surprised me in the best of ways - I wasn't expecting much because I'm ashamed to say I was slightly put off by its phenomenal mainstream appeal (oh god, I'm one of those people), and because there's only so far I figured musical perversion can get you, but what was really impressive about Avenue Q was how everything it said was true (and generally funny, which always helps make things go down better). While yes, I was scandalised by the vision of puppets having sex, my god, it was somewhat hilarious and insightful, and in a strange way I'm now fine with the world because musicals have been written pretty much summing up the plight of all womankind, all that is wrong with the world, and how to make everything better (I especially liked how contrived it was that it all added up).

There's a Fine, Fine Line
There's a fine, fine line between a lover and a friend;
There's a fine, fine line between reality and pretend;
And you never know 'til you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb.

There's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of time.

A couple of days back in a bookstore:
Zavier: Jan, that CJ boy checked you out!
Me: OMG SERIOUSLY? WHERE WHERE I DIDN'T SEE
Zavier: Over there, but not worth looking at. I know because I was checking him out.

Seriously, what would I do without my fabulous gay man-friends? You are all FABULOUS.


I dramatise and exaggerate the way people breathe, but in truth there is no place I would rather be, all things considered. And I say all things considered as if I've lived through several wars, having lost the use of my legs in the process, and am currently supporting my similarly invalid family by selling the rest the few still functioning body parts I have on my being on the street, but that's not it at all, because there is no place I would rather be because of all things considered rather than in spite of - there's nothing and no one I would rather be, there's no one I would rather surround myself with than the people I love now, and even what gets me down in the slightest respect I honestly couldn't wish for a better rain on my parade, whatever it may be from day to day.

I spent my day down at the National Library reading since my Lit papers are coming up, and god you know, every once in a while I am struck with this fierce affection for life, not in the disgusting wide-eyed happy sunshine girl sense, but more like a inspirational connection with humanity and the greater cosmic order sort of deal ahahaha. No I'm kidding, but in all seriousness there's so much that excites me (also partly because I'm a drama queen, but getting away from that and to the Universal Human Condition) it's slightly overwhelming in the best way possible how much there is to be done at every moment, and even if you've got absolutely nothing tangible going on for you goddamn, there's no reason for woe and violins, much less if your lot is somewhere in between fscking amazing and godawful like most; While I was there this old guy sat in the reference library all day reading The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde and that made me remarkably happy, as did the reading list I compiled and all these things I never knew until just. Actually in truth it's just been far too long since I've sat down and read because I'm a bit of a moron, but really there's so much going on for humanity as a whole if went out alone and found things to like about life (like the new advertisment to encourage people to report suspiscious objects showing at MRTs, which is full of great drama and an Important Message, oh yes).

Also, Gay Bar played twice on random play all (out of 3872389472384723 million tracks, what are the chances?), which can only mean that life is generally awesome. And on the way home walking through the MRT station The Shins' New Slang came on, and it dawned on me that as much as my life is sometimes a bit of a cosmic joke it is kind, though it may take a while to come around, for long ago there was a boy who sang along for a bit there was nothing more in the world I could ask for and if it is possible to experience that sort of perfection for even a single moment out of say, eighteen years of being alive rather unremarkably, how can you possibly say you've got nothing going for you, as fashionable as your melancholy (or exam-related angst, anguish of uncertainty or terror of the future, whatever you want) may seem?

---
Brian Friel's Dancing at Lughanasa

"And what is so strange about that memory is that everybody seems to have been floating on those sweet sounds, moving rhythmically, languorously, in complete isolation; responding more to the mood of the music than to its beat. When I remember it, I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half closed because to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to the moment - as if this ritual, this wordless ceremony, was now the way to speak, to whisper private and sacred things, to be in touch with some otherness. Dancing as if the very heart of life and all its hopes might be found in those assuaging notes and those hushed rhythms and in those silent and hypnotic movements. Dancing as if language no longer existed because words were no longer necessary."

I don't know, I'm trying this thing where I'm less socially-inept; Today I talked to this kid on the MRT for a couple of stops, who was named Amos and went to special school and had an absolutely adorable three-month-old brother. I don't know what it is about speaking to people you don't actually know, but it's empowering isn't it, and you figure if you have the courage to smile at random people well you can smile at anyone right?

Well this doesn't actually work because I got off the train and saw this boy from school I'm only completely mad for (ahahaha I have to tell everyone about his birthday for which I blew most of my week's allowance, which was worthwhile just for the look of abject horror on his face when I presented him with it) and I tried so hard to be cool you know, you've spent a couple of hours out with a complete stranger and for a bit her friends and then you've done the friendly, conversational commuter thing with kids and their families and you've dealt with silences, the Dandy Warhols say you're godless so really you can do this you can look in his general direction in off-hand recognition and maybe you can smile only no that doesn't quite work and I end up walking by really fast and simultaneously wanting to curl up and die and turn back for a second look.

So uh what I want to do is to be less awkward in general, to not look away and to maybe work my way up to hazarding a smile once in a while, 'cos maybe that would be nice, you know, and at some point in time I want to be able to approach people for pictures or general conversation but you know in part I just really want to speak to the boy in question and maybe that's what this, all this, is about.

So let's see, birthdays and things. Now I am legal for most things, big whoop, and I have been for almost a day now isn't that crazy? What I have established after eighteen years after many a scintillating discourse with only the closest of my friends:

1) I have sizeable er, tracks of land.

Look how far we've come. We used to talk about philosophy early into the morning, of love life and everything else, and at eighteen any sign of intellect is reduced to, well, an analysis of anatomical differentials. God I love being older, wiser, more mature.

I suppose there's meant to be a natal epiphany and a post that juxtaposes existential concerns with overwhelming gratitude (for everyone and everything that has happened to me, that has made this day perfect that has made my eighteen years somehow worthwhile) but all I can come up with is "WHY THE PAUCITY OF DESIRABLE BOYS OVER THE SPACE OF EIGHTEEN YEARS" and "HOLY SHIT MY FRIENDS TOTALLY ROCK WHY WHY WHY AM I NOT A LESBIAN?!" (though the latter can be rationalised very easily: ELIJAH WOOD k, because I had this lovely dream about him last night).

So yes, the additional year has granted me a great deal of emotional, psychological and intellectual maturity, couldn't you tell? To the point where I feel like running through the streets with underwear on my head declaring "NO FACE NO NAME NO NUMBER MY LOVE IS LIKE A THUNDER" because it's just the sort of thing that fits my age.

Perhaps I do need someone who goes godno when asked out, because then I would know that there is absolutely nothing in the world that could stop us now. Except that nagging thing about it being a godno, which could pose a problem in our frenzied dealings which define genres and generate highly pornographic correspondences, but that's a small thing anyway since that's not my life and the reaction wasn't half as interesting as that anyhow, and much besides it was an "I have A Levels let's hang out unromantically" sort of deal. Which actually works out perfectly since conversation descended from underwear discourse to the tragic practicality of great university ambitions in a matter of minutes, so clearly it's not meant to be.

I suppose it's been that sort of day that makes you figure it's alright you know - life, the universe and everything else. That it doesn't really matter how you can't come to terms with the inexplicable loss that you experience that comes from every additional day lived because this is your prime and it feels like you're missing out on so much. It feels like by the time you're twenty you might as well be dead and the only way to resolve this is to get older, a mind-numbingly terrifying prospect on its own. And in some ways you are wholly inadequate and god you've got all these issues which you'll never get around to squaring with but you're strangely content with knowing how you are so far away from who and where you want to be.

Even so everything's gninchy, gnarly, peachy keen, because there are people to try to be there's a to-do list that's not been written there's an entire world to change marginally, person by person from day to day. It doesn't matter how at the end of all things nothing will have changed because there will be truly inappropriate humour and strange days and revolutionary moments, and though there will be sentimental retrospectives that you've not as yet figured out how to deal with at thirty-eight and on somedays you'll wake up not wanting to but what's important is they were there. So today I want to do something amazing something brilliant something radical with this measure, and the difference is right about now I feel like I could.