Intransigence All Around.

Wah, KNN.

Another day. Another, pretty much empty one. Once again, no jobs to go for. Translated: Nothing I'd both want to do and/or qualify for.

So, now that the Fallout 2 adrenal rush (Geek Gamer Goes Gangstah! ...Uh.), I've properly sat down again to catch up on the papers, comb the various Classifieds, etc. The, uh, Productive side of my life.

Nope. And hence, yay, more posting on same day.

You know, I have this love-hate relationship with movies. Films. I've said before, I really, really love a good story. Movies, books, games. As much as I advocate the written word, and make vague derogatory remarks at those whu cn onli tok lyk tis lolx, I must concede that the motion picture packs a far greater psychological punch in a lot of ways.

"As she teasingly undid the buttons of her shirt with almost painful deliberation, I stood, caught somewhere between her deliciously weighted scrutiny and the slowly emerging, equally fascinating contours of her..."

Hmmm I have a positive talent for this. Buuuut anyway, yes, between reading that and seeing it happen between two people on the screen (assume hawt women, good acting), the screen smacks the mind a good deal harder. And so it is that feel-good, fuzzy-wuzzy romantic comedies hit me the hardest. To quote myself (this feels weird) in previous writing, "When you walk out of the theatre, the world is no longer lit in the soft, golden candlelight you just saw, but blindingly clinical, sterile fluorescent white." Or something like that.

I've got a cluster of, um, electronically appropriated video media, that I've yet to watch. Quite a number. If I'm honest with myself, it's because I can't really bring myself to. In the stagnation I'm in (a pretty fuck-off long one), as much as I'd enjoy myself for the duration of the picture, the post-production, what I like to call movie melancholia, is not something I want to deal with right now.

So, warraw, why read newspaper also got ah?

Firstly, that they don't even have any Writing openings. I've combed them enough to know they're far and few between, but mostly there's at least one or two. Which of course I fling myself pathetically at. To the inevitable result of silent disdain. But no more.

Then, there's all this success going on. Oh, stop it. Yes, I know these are people who've worked hard for their efforts, etc. Allow me to bitch once inna bit, alright? Xiaxue (I can never remember her name...was it Wendy Cheng?) makes the papers yet again, and so do Mr Miyagi and Mr Brown, for setting up a Singapore-Blog Portal of sorts, which I, having visited, applaud. Very commendable. I read other bits and marvel at Colin Goh's seemingly intrinsic wit, and Sumiko Tan's grace and poise in her prose (though her choice of subjects is always a little...squeaky for my tastes. Singapore Tee Shirts, wtf?).

And TehUneducated's Ego is knocked down for the count! The round, and the championship belt goes to the Various Outstanding Pillars of Sociiiiiiiiety~!


Kay. Enough wallowing. Take it like it is.

Hey, I know it was my fault for not lining up for the A-s at the A-s, knowing full well I could have. Being stuck with a half-arsed A-Cert is a bit of a bummer. Can't laugh at that Poly-now-Grad holding that position I'd maim small animals for now, can I? I don't know...was it a bad decision, the holding out for a proper position? In a world sickeningly certificate-centred, do the talented who fucked up sometime back not get a chance to showcase what they can do, as opposed to some private degree kia who slaps the smiling receptionist with money and writes his name on the Degree (not you, my skinny Chinese ambiguously homosexual lover, you animal, you)? Like, if I had the money, I'd do the same, you know? Big, buggered If, though.

So, yes. Self-inflicted intransigence. To hold out, waiting for that big break...or to sell myself out, and knock up some generic grunt-employment affair, earning shit for doing shit. Gods know I need money.

But, well, if that was all it was about, I wouldnae have quit the previous thankless gig. I need to feel some kind of satisfaction at the end of the work-day, work at a result, produce something, and have it recognized. I'd take 2/3 of my previous pay (and believe me, the full sum was nothing to throw parties about) at something I enjoy doing, like Writing, rather than the original sum, for the retardation that was the job.

Inevitably, ends have to meet, I guess. This slim shady, might just be spitting on your onion rings next. Be honoured. And afraid. =)

This Self-Rationalizing Piece of Shit has been Brought to you by TehUneducated.


P/S That makes no sense to anyone else but myself:
Jason Woo, as much as I admire your talent and sheer tenacity for churning out remarkable pieces of work...fuck you. I want your job. You bastard. T_T