Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Pao Bu Liao
I am so incredibly bored. I am a wandering ghost along the corridors of MD5. All because my PBL is at an unearthly 2pm (right, just goes to show how one person's perception of time is totally different from others'). I'm still trying to decide (without tossing a bloody coin, since I have zero reliance on vagaries of chance, and I've long since come to the conclusion that I would just as soon call the result invalid if it's not my desired result, so any form of coin tossing is absolutely useless). As in, I'm trying to decide whether to go for PBL, not whether my PBL tutor is an absolute nightmare, the result of the latter being long since decided. (He is. Shh)
Bah. So now I'm sitting in the Med Student Lounge, typing this entry out on a keyboard which my fingers can't get used to, so I either type at phenomenally slow speeds or hit the backspace key as often as the normal keys (I hit the backspace key 41 times during this sentence, just so you know). There's a whole bunch of M2s in here playing games which is really amusing and distracting at the same time. And there's this guy (I think it's an M1 - hey don't M1s have to study for their CAs or something) sitting next to me, and I hope he's not looking at this. [Hey, stop looking, if you are]
Well anyway, I shall stop the sardonic nonsense already. It just feels like an incredibly lousy week, exacerbated by the fact that things at home are far from chummy and that lectures are interminably boring. I really can't wait to get a new computer so I can get away from it all and plunge myself into the beautiful world of Myst. Talk about escapism.
A collection of musings:
One of the very few things that gets me bothered about the national library - since in most other aspects the NLB has been a godsend for people like me who want to get books as soon as possible after their release without having to pay for the books, and I'm not the kind of speedreader who can sit at Borders for an afternoon devouring books like nothing - is the fact that NLB has these humongous labels for their books that cover a considerable portion of the book cover, sometimes even covering half the book title. I wonder seriously how they get away with it. You mean libraries can cover a quarter of the book cover (it is a quarter for small fantasy books) and get away with it totally? I mean, I think most publishers put a lot of thought into designing book covers - that's why books nowadays list the names of the cover designers and cover artists and whatnot. Imagine if one of those designers pick up a copy of the book at the national library. The pain they must feel, for their masterpiece to be so concealed from the reader's eyes.
It really also hinders the reader's enjoyment of the design of the book cover, because sometimes I just like staring at the book cover and analysing the artwork when I have nothing better to do. When a large part of the picture is concealed by a large swath of white label, there's nothing to look at. And there's really no reason carrying a book around when people can't see the title of the book. The irritation I get from this ranks all the way up there with school libraries pasting their loan/return pieces of paper over the first page of the book which often has a short excerpt of the story. I mean, reading a book is a all-round experience. You can't just assume that just as long as the reader can read the story itself, that all other fringe benefits can be carelessly thrown out the window. It only really blocks a considerable part of the book in very few books, so I'm really making a fuss about something that gets me irked for one book out of twenty or more I get from the library. Even so, is it then excusable? Then again, I suppose that's what you get for paying nothing.
Which evokes the question: Where does the library get it's money from? Apparently the NLB can afford to buy multiple copies of books that cost US$49 or something, so they must be pretty rich. Taxes? But really, it's not like I care.
In another classic example of how incorrigibly racist I am, I was walking along the road outside the DMERI a couple of mornings ago (I took up wandering around the Medicine and Science buildings, finding it more pleasant than sitting in the LT watching every other soul around me mugging - what's up with that?) when I saw this indian open the door of a Renault parked along the road and reach into the car. The first thing that came into my mind was Oh my god he's stealing the car! Honestly, he did look like a car thief. He had the kind of face you see in large photos of serial rapists or murderers in the newspapers, I'm not exaggerating. So I kept looking at him as I walked by, to assure myself that he was not going to steal the car, though I wasn't convinced that he owned it. Maybe the car belonged to his friend, and he was helping look after it for a while.
I find it's quite scary to be emotionless. I though it was scary to be filled with so much rage that I was on the urge of a massive explosion. But now I just don't feel anything. All the emotions I experience are wholly superficial. I laugh, but I don't feel happy. I weep, but I'm not sad. I don't feel the emotions I show. It's disturbing. The thing is when all I can say about it is that it's disturbing, there must be something wrong, but I really don't feel enough to worry about it. I don't know, emptiness feels good, somewhat. At least I'm not ripping myself to pieces with my emotions.
I think I'll go for PBL after all. No point in skipping classes.
Avaris / 11/24/2004 01:31:00 PM
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