home is where the bakchormee is.

i sit on my brand new porch, staring into the dark, illuminated solely by little specks of light that remind me of little else save stardust, and squint outwards at the unfamiliarity that i call home. i am nomadic; my room has been ripped of its messy interior, stripped bare of all its wooden trappings, waiting for a fresh set of wardrobes to adorn its walls. all is new, but strangely familiar. it's like life has changed in its entirety, but remained exactly the same. new job, new school, new car, new home, new life.

for once (and such occasions are, indeed, rare, as any readers of this blog will know) i am truly happy. life borders on perfection.

the first week of the rest of my life.

the end is so close it's practically knocking on my door. i gaze around the room, my room, and realise that in a week or so my life will be in packed up and sealed in little cardboard boxes, a thought that is simultaneously exhilarating and fearsome. the pictures, the posters, the miscellaneous junk that adorns my shelves and walls will be stripped away. my laundry basket, piled high with clothes and other assorted washable materials, will once again fall into disuse; never again will i need to fear a lack of clean, laundry fresh clothes. the maid will ensure it. rare will be the day i will have to concern myself with groceries, or cooking, or the like.

in a week, i will (God-willing) have a job, a new room, a brand new life. time they say, is the great equaliser. never before have i felt the absolutely truth behind that statement so acutely. i am at once equal parts pain and sorrow, on one hand, and utterly unfettered joy on the other. this is, after all, simply the end of the beginning.

flowers on my window.

i woke up this morning with the realisation that in a month, my life will be radically different from that to which i have grown accustomed. it's not a negative thought, just a scary one. i lay in bed for a little while and contemplated the fact that no matter how hard i try, there is no escape from the inevitable, inescapable need to grow up. and then josh pounded on my door and told me to wake up and go to the library, so i guess we now return to normal programming. bah.



shot and photoshopped by su. respect.

politewinter.

you never truly see a city for what it is until just after midnight, when the faintest hint of moonlight tinges the treeline with burnished silver, and the buildings themselves seem to whisper ruminations overheard the day past. the wind carries the voices of a dying day, and the weariness drops from your brow for just one brief, fleeting moment, before you lower your eyes and the weight of the world comes crashing back down on your back.

the contemplations of the bored.

i've been living in a cubicle for the last week. the same songs on repeat mode in my ear, all 500 of them on loop mode; constant, inexorable, unchanging. tbe same food, the same surroundings (oh, the unrelenting green-ess of the place). i'm trapped in a prison of my own choosing, spending most days floating in a sea of legal terms. the realisation hits me- the law is a but a set of reified human constructs, no more real or tangible than greek myths or roman gods. it exists because we say it does. we allow books to govern our lives, just because the word statute precedes them.

my neglected little corner of the intarweb.

i know i don't write as often as i used to. it's certainly not because i don't have anything to write; it's more because i ought to be writing something else (my final year project) but i'm not, so it feels like i'm sneaking off and doing something illicit when i even think about writing something that is't related to bankruptcy.

shh. i'm cheating on my essay with my blog. don't tell anyone. if ms word finds out, it'll have a catfight with firefox, and my desktop will be the battlefield.

clearly i need more sleep.

the carrot & the stick.

sometimes i sit back and wonder if all this is worth it- the constant grind, the worrying about grades, the plodding through endless reams of judicial reification and parliamentary debate on issues that i wouldn't ordinarily give a passing thought to.

maybe it's for the money- but that's just plain materialism. no one needs the moolah in excess, just to live confortably. materialism, consumerism on a vast scale is supposed to be bad, isn't it? spending vast quantities of money on things we don't really need when people are starving and suffering in our own back yards is unjustifiable, is it not?

and then i watched top gear (the XKR v. AM V8 Vantage bit), and i remembered why i need to succeed. some things you can get without vast sums of money- the house, the urban SUV, the kids. but some things redefine consumerism and transform desire into need. some things blur the line between necessity and passion.

nothing blurs that line more than these two.

you work not because you're afraid you won't live the life you always dreamed about. you're never really afraid of the stick. it's the carrots that make you run on that treadmill, regardless of how instinctively stupid it seems at the time. and if being able to drive either of these babies somewhere down the road, then bring on the work.

i'm ready for it.