am pissed at results. ok, i'm pissed at me.

but am not too bad off because finally found the funky soundtrack. so i think i've saved myself from eternal damnation.

i'm running on empty, and this is my will, because it feels like the last thing i'll ever write. you know you're tired when you cannot take even the littlest things, when a disappointment can mean a battle with tears that you are on the brink of losing, and a loss of your humanity. not the humanity of compassion, that is something you must never lose (but still do, at some point), but the humanity of yourself, the little bit that makes you you. the walking death lives, it does, and you know it. society says elsewise we are changing the system, changing it such that no one will ever feel pain, the burden of work, the pressure to conform, the depth of death and the meaning of life. kahlil gibran got it right, and the only other one i have ever seen to understand is orson scott card. how do you think ender felt, destroying the enemy he loved? how do you feel, when the enemy is you? and all thise while i understood, really understood, but the sham that i am (the suess that i was) knows i left that long ago.

i grew up, i guess. no more playing in gardens with the sun, waiting for the prince and the plum to come up from the depths of the pool, carried by two copper orbs that blinked at me and waited for my response. to kiss or not to kiss, and i chose the path less travelled. it made the difference. regret? i think not. i forgot the sun, the moon and the stars in my hubris - it is hubris now, that i write this. it was the pride that scoffed at my fall, and it was the broken relics that i picked up from the bottom of the cliff, where elijah cast me for failing them (he held not his hands - his sons ran away to the battle and both fell, and for that he cast his staff out, no more, no more.). the passage to the burning bush is long and narrow, and i have lost my sandals (no need to take them off now, then!), and the ember has died.

it is sad to note that we can never pity those greater than ourselves, only aspire to. and yet, who needs more pity? pity is an indulgence that we can have, being able to concentrate on such a "need" for the "compassion" we all live for, the farce that stops you from remembering and learning, for the knowledge that "someone understands me, somebody does". no more time for them, no more. ruthlessness is the way to go, to live, to survive.

but algernon taught us something to. the quality of mercy is not strained; it drippeth as the gentle rain from heaven onto the ground beneath, it is twice blessed - it blesseth him that giveth, and him that recives, the crown of kings, the scepter of authority, and weak and the strong pay it both, and a thousand deaths are a mere statistic, but one, for one the hero stops, for it is a tragedy. weep not for me - i am presumptious in presuming i deserve it, for the thought to cross my mind is mere self-censure the minilove will get you, minitruth will eat you alive!, but for yourself, because you cannot save your own until you understand, but vincent, oh vincent, they never did, and they never will.

these days have been an education into the mentality of little prebubescent boys. i get home after fun class dinner, and the first thing i hear is "there's a snake in dad's room". so far so good. ok. maybe dad's slightly afraid of snakes. but that's fine - he's a big boy, he can handle it. then: "we tried to use a hamster to lure it out".

i suppose it's logical, but what part of "snakes eat hamsters" and "snakes are fast" dont you understand????

in anycase, managed to fufil our nkf criteria of "do not embarrass the school by having it host a round without it's own team in it" and "do not lose to scgs". lost to uwc, but that's ok. we'll survive. yesterday's debates were crappy - i dont wanna ever have to do something of that standard EVER again. but today's was not too bad. so i'm happy: it wasn't a washout. good enough. and we've the rest of the week free.

on another note. do not conduct pw in a room full of computers and more specifically computer games. bad for concentration.

on the same note. screw. i have pw.

i fucked up my promos.

gods know how i did it. i think it was complacency, arrogance and cockiness. everything gets ladled to me on a silver platter i forget what a spoon is for.

so today i try to outrun my mistakes during training. i think i could have run forever, just so i could forget my demons, to keep the wind blowing in my ears to block out the sounds of my guilt and people discussing grades. self-disappointment is the hardest to take, and the most necessary.

i feel human. but you need to be superhuman.

friday was an almost epiphanic rach 2. i had a lot to say about it, but now i don't have that much. while it wasn't perfect, it was better than the other 2 i've heard before. the sso still has this annoying habit of drowning out the soloist. apart from the shostakovich no. 5, which was fascinating (hear the second movement). the third movement was very...vivid. i could see images...*shiver*

and the exams are over. somehow i don't feel very relieved. i think it's the oppressive feeling that you get when you KNOW you've screwed up but you dont know just HOW badly.

well, i'm back.