i'm a mess. my room is a mess. i don't know where half my things are. i don't know what to do with my life. i am seriously going to uproot every damn thing in my room and redecorate, rearrange, and organise it after the 'A's. hopefully i don't end up procrastinating again. redoing my room will be the first step to fixing all that is wrong with my life. though some things can't really be fixed. and even though some people can't really see me as a person, i sure as hell want to have a room which is fit for one to live in. hmm. it doesn't make sense does it? i shouldn't be proclaiming my messiness and ridiculous failings on the world wide web for all to read. and at six days before prelims too. doesn't really matter though right, not like there's a lot of people reading this, and not like people can like me any less then they currently do. and anyway, how much do people really know about me anyway? life is so full of hi-bye friends... people whom you don't really know truly or deeply, but whom you just know. how can anyone really claim to understand another person, without going through either time, deep shared experiences or tribulations with them? or at least having some form of communication not merely on a superficial level? i guess real friends are few and far between, and to have one or two should be considered lucky already. pity we all couldn't try to communicate more though. and perhaps be more open to others and not be so concerned with the petty things in life? i don't profess to know. but i really don't think understanding someone is only knowing what they like or don't like, or where they live or whatever. perhaps knowing how they tick? or how they feel? how they perceive things? sometimes it all boils down to how people click. some people just can, some people just can't. isn't it so? no explanation for it sometimes. but then again there's no explanation for a lot of things in life. not everything can be established by fact.
speaking of fact. it is so reprehensible that fact should be used to suppress the imagination and creativity of a young child. i can really feel for the characters in Hard Times... Stephen Blackpool, trapped in a miserable situation he is unable to get out off, and the sweet, long-suffering Rachael he loves is willing to take care of him and his wastrel wife, being so compassionate and filling him with kindness as well. why kind people should suffer is really beyond me... in my opinion Stephen should just take Rachael and run far away from the suffocating fires of Coketown and his ungrateful wife, 'a creature so foul'. but Rachael being so good, cannot do so, and there is also always the ominous threat of the law to punish them for their "crime". what "crime", i ask, is it for two people to be happy and away from the oppressive lives they lead, constrained by the inflexible laws and 'melancholy madness'. madness indeed. and Louisa Gradgrind... what a great pity. a pretty young girl with the potential for imagination and life, but strongly suppressed by a father so taken with Fact, so much so that he is blinded by it and cannot see how his daughter is suffering and instead is proud of her being so perfectly molded into a creature of Fact.
sigh. when will people ever learn? i know they aren't real people, and i know that what is right or wrong is subjective, but really. what is the whole point of being trapped in such misery? what is the point of subjecting others to it? even though they aren't real people, the book can serve as some sort of criticism of industrialisation, of stupid laws, of the system, of the inflexible pursuit of fact. Gradgrind does realise in the end that Fact is not actually everything, but pales in comparison to 'Faith, Hope and Charity'. i guess that is some sort of compensatory element to reading this absolutely depressing novel. and Sissy too, is a compensatory element. well. since i'm not studying and trying to find some reprieve online instead, i might as well try to incoporate some elements of studying into it.
"But, happy Sissy's happy children loving her; all children loving her; she, grown learned in childish lore; thinking no innocent and pretty fancy ever to be despised; trying hard to know her humbler fellow-creatures, and to beautify their lives of machinery and reality with those imaginative graces and delights, without which the heart of infancy will wither up, and the sturdiest physical manhood will be morally stark death, and the plainest national prosperity figures can show..." Hard Times, Charles Dickens. hmm. i should stop analysing my text and get down to actually reading it, only nearly halfway through reading it properly rather than in bits. but sigh, it really is such a sad book. i guess we are all luckier than we think we are. but then people are never satisfied are we? we always want something, then when we have it, we want something else more. few people can claim to be completely satisfied with their lives methinks. shucks. i have school tomorrow. and prelims in six days. shall have to force myself to study and get acquainted with facts. it'd probably be easier if i were more in the mood for it or happier, but things can't always go the way we want it to, and life has to go on doesn't it. it just has to. time waits for no one. we shouldn't wait 'to see the ashes of our fires turn grey and cold' but rather 'do the little' we can, are 'fit for' in this short life, and the little we 'hope to do in it'.
:11:10 PM: :sugah~plum
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