I'm going to try to sleep on the deck tonight,
I need a new perspective on things, a new change in environment
I wonder if I should just go to London for two nights and then back again

Nikki: "How do you feel after you write Liling? Do you feel calmer?"
"Not necessarily. I just-"
"You just bleed."
"Yeah."

I know what rants are, and I am not ranting.
I'm grumbling for no reason, even when the Bible tells me it's not good to do it, I know it's for my own good but who am I kidding - I don't even listen to my own mother
I hope to set aside a huge bulk of time to think things through
Instead of being "touch and go" with all these thoughts
I want to live the fantasy, I want to get lost and from there, start over
I can do that in this country, and I will do it because I can.

I am lonely but I don't think I need anymore company,
I just want to find a place that feels like home and
The space all around me is just too positive that the space in my head has become -ve x 100000000000
Do I have to move around all the time, because I haven't found anything in anyone
And certainly not myself, oh no no
So London town here I come

I miss my guitar

Leave me alone for a few days and I become lonesome. I feel pathetic. I wish I had a proper sibling. I'm fascinated by relationships between brother and sister, shared between those who hate each other and those who don't. I want to fight too. I feel like I've never learnt how to argue properly. Today I was wondering, that perhaps that's why I tend to seek out that particular someone to love; finding a lover compensates the loneliness I've always had as a child.

I'm such a loner that it scares me. Shawn says once you get used to it, it will be alright. I have lots of friends around, but I'm beginning to see how I use the time to escape from myself. There is something about you that makes me confront myself. Not that you're special, but you are, and I don't like it. There is something invasive about you, but I don't want you to leave. This isn't even me trying to be romantic, I just can't figure out all this conflict within this dumb little head of mine.

I teeter on the edge of losing control. Interpol makes me want to cry, but Interpol resonates with me so much more than any other band's music, so I want to wallow in these sad story worlds, in these sad songs. - Do I make sense? /Tonight I'm gonna rest my chemistry, tonight I'm gonna rest my chemistry. Is something fizzling out, because if it is then well, hello.

Leave me alone for a few days and I become lonesome. Have I told you that I feel pathetic.

俐玲/ Li Ling

I
My name (Li) means:
Bright, witty and full of life
Strong, and of the fiercest sun

II
My name ( Ling) means:
The tinkling of jade pendants,
Talkative; chatty little princess

III
I live my life in two parts
When I first met you
And when I last saw him

IV
I am my father's beloved
I am my father's favourite girl
He remembers the 30th of November

V
The children here grow up with
Western beliefs,
Knowing they will grow up to be
Heard

VI
Young children should not be heard,
Only seen -
But even my weight is an eyesore

VII
Christianity is not a Western belief:
I am my Father's beloved
He remembers all my brothers' birthdays

VIII
"Ling" is not a name you are entitled
To simply call out
It reverberates throughout my entire being-
You do not.

IX
I want to name my boy Israel
So he may wrestle with God
And live free
Even while struggling

X
My name (Li) (Ling) means:
Because I know my identity,
You cannot take it away from me

Favour

/you can have Manhattan, b'cos I can't have you

I'm currently released for Easter break.
Deb and I are scheduled to meet at London Paddington to leave for Penzance on Tuesday. Everyone's been telling me how beautiful Cornwall is, and I can't wait to take a break from the city!
I was just pondering while in bed one morning: Am I a city or a country pug?
Can I just put this out there: I love partying. I love it with a passion.
Not so much clubbing, but house parties. A place to konk out at and to get as wasted as you possibly can with your bestest and closest friends, then waking up to the scent of KFC in the morning.
If I had a summer home in the countryside, that's what I'd do. Like Gatsby.
Only exception is that I'd have foie gras for brunch instead.

It feels strange to be sitting in K's apartment on my own.
I imagine myself to be a poor writer, (after paying for rent, there's not much money in my account anyway) typing away in a tiny attic in the middle of Paris. But on an iPad. And I can't write to save my life. I need to read so much more, I realised. I feel a little disappointed. I may have lost the ability to sit my butt down and start reading again. Prose doesn't excite me as much as poetry does anymore. Perhaps this month will be when I get that discipline back.
I'm watching the trains on the track rumble past and I get nervous when passengers make quick eye contact with me.
I'm not a fan of Finsbury Park to be honest, and I can't believe K is paying sky high prices to stay here. This afternoon, I finally decided to get out of bed and took a little walk around. Both sides of the street are flanked with shops that are Bugis Street lookalikes, selling dresses that have far too many gemstones sewn on them from top to toe. Just like how Ken and I reacted at Far East Plaza, I found myself cringing at the sight of overpriced, gaudy tops in fire engine red and electric blue alongside cheap made-in-China heels adorned with all sorts of strange accessories that my feet and ankles would probably die in.

Maybe I should have gone to the park instead. I didn't know there was so much musical history behind Finsbury Park until I Wiki-ed it. The Stone Roses were here last year in June, and Jimi Hendrix BURNED HIS GUITAR ONSTAGE in 1967?!?! Heh?!
I'm rediscovering all the music I used to listen to. Like Interpol, Bright Eyes and The Raconteurs.
I might even start liking The Beatles more now. I don't even know why I didn't like them in the first place, I can't explain it. Maybe they sound too happy - their songs may be sad, but they SOUND too happy. But I sound like a prude.
Also, I really want to catch Kings of Leon and Fink live next year. That would be the greatest 21st birthday present ever. And I'm hoping all of us will still stay great friends so we may finally go for that cabin trip in the summer in our second year.

I am so, so thankful to be at Royal Holloway. The Queen was here this year too - that event had somewhat of a sentimental impact on all of us here. Maybe it's a strong sense of what favour feels like, for the Queen to make her way down to our school to present the award is a pretty big thing. I remember telling myself that I'd probably make a sterner, less fidgety Royal Guard than those on the quad. Mmm I'm so grateful my dad's operation went well, for the friends I have here and for my family back home. I can see myself progressing in terms of thinking about the world even as I share different conversations with different people. I can see myself growing, and I love that. It's gonna be a great year. Now I can't wait for June.

Tradition and the Individual Talent (of un-loving someone)

"But the difference between the present and the past is that the conscious present is an awareness of the past in a way and to an extent which the past's awareness of itself cannot show."

This is the quote I have been searching for so I might have my so-called catharsis ever since that day in December.

Sometimes I stand around looking at cigarettes on the ground and wonder whose lips they touched and the lives behind them.
I'd want to know who was desperate for a cigarette that day, or had they asked for one from a stranger, and if they did, how did they approach them.
What were the conversations in between about? How did they handle the small talk if they chose to start it, since I'd consider asking for cigarettes a big favour.
Or was the one who proceeded with his/her request on his last stick, but still gave it away anyway?
I don't mind the fact that my father smokes two packs a day.
I want to know what he thought about with every inhale/exhale.
Did he brood more over his failures or his successes in life? He sits up for hours in the early morning and thinks about his past mistakes - I know this because I've asked him once. And we shared a moment of silence before going back to bed.
After all, Pa believes that after he dies, there will be a great Nothing.
No heaven, but maybe hell.
Maybe hell.

-

I saw someone familiar through my astigmatism and wasn't sure what he thought about me.
Would the first thing that popped into his head be a Bible verse or judgement?
My feet were freezing and I bolted soon after, not knowing what to make of the situation.
Wow, I am actually paranoid.
Next time, I should avoid the library and take the longer route outside.
The library closes at 9. Bye.

thank You

I am so blessed to be at Royal Holloway.
I'm really proud of myself for budgeting and eating well, and for doing good in my work.
Basically, I am pretty motivated at university. I guess the challenge is to always share my resources and to help anyone who is struggling to keep up. I can be so unhelpful sometimes.

I'm in a good mood.
I, I, I.

I have nothing else to say but thank You for being with me throughout.