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rambleriot

jolene needs a focal point.

Like how undigested fibres ends up in the toilet bowl, unprocessed nonsense gets discharged here.

Do you get, do you get a little kick
out of being small-minded?
You want to be like your father
It’s approval you’re after
Well that’s not how you’ll find it

Fuck You (GWB); Lily Allen


dialogue

jack-in-a-box press it pops

Thursday, March 26, 2009
An Afterthought; The Promise.


Jolene gets obsessed with stress.
She doesn't know how to grapple, instead she magnifies it.
She needs to learn how to control the tornado in her wreck of a brain that cripples her cognitive functions.

She's going to try.
Positive thinking, make-believe self-belief.

(:


Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Newton's Third Law Holds True, Rebound.


You know, when dy/dx = 0 is a maximum point and it's a quadratic function, there is only one peak.

In History, with every Golden Age comes deterioration.

Everything
G
o
e
s
S
p
i
r
a
l
l
i
n
g

After.

Today Jolene found out she failed her Mathematics paper for Blocks, after she went on stage to receive the award she wished she didn't get.

How ironic.

But yes, this Blocks marks the fall of the Great Jolene.

I say that with much sarcasm and spite and revolt.
Sometimes, I wonder if I'd peaked too soon. If doing my best everytime would soon drive me to my limit, like when AD shifts up but production is already at its maximum with the AS curve of gradient infinite. Pushing harder with every hundred percent put in. Chugging like a well-oiled engine.

Once it starts, no it can't stop, no no no.

Overheating, overwhelming.

Like a derailed locomotive, out of control, headed straight for disaster.

I admit, last year was spectacular.
Everyone else thinks so too.
Frankly speaking I was extremely grateful that the auditorium is too small to contain the college section. I was insignificant, worth only a passing glance from indifferent strangers.
Recognition is a scary thing.
Following news that I was involved in the ceremony, congratulations poured in. I know, people mean well when they laugh and say, Ms Top-In-Geog, Top-Geog, and the five hundred and seventy-eight other permutations with adjectives the likes of imbah, mugger, pro, zai...best. I say thanks.

But deep inside, with every comment I crumble.

When I said I would screw my examinations, nobody would believe me. Nope. People would shrug, laugh it off, whack my big hollow skull, and say, you?

People impose their expectations of you, on you.
The implicit assumption that Jolene will do well. That she's good.
What if, Jolene really isn't what she's made out to be?
That it's all a fluke?
And so, to play down everyone else's elevated perceptions of her she started her own self-negative feedback. She would be her own wet blanket.

Because everyone assummed I wouldn't be the one to falter, I wanted to retort, what if I do?
Would it make everyone shut up, because the pressure exterts more self-pressure like an inflation of pressure. Circular, coming to think of it. I was terrified. But no I couldn't tell anyone because they'll all impose more glorified nonsense on me.

In a slightly morbid sense, I'm actually relieved and glad that I screwed not one, but all of my
subjects.

In case you're concerned, I blacked out during all of my papers. I'll enter the examination venue all prepared, brain sore from the cramming of information. Following which, I become a completely detatched persona with my neurones all jammed up like a clogged sewage pipe. Crippled, if I may use the word. Gripped tight by the fear of not living up to what I am supposed to be. I was no longer absorbed in the paper like I used to, rather, I was literally stuck. During Literature I actually felt the whole hall crumble around me.
The incessant nagging that I can't do it. The deep, sinking feeling that I'm unable to help myself.
Falling down a bottomless pit.

It was the same scenario during revision. I'll sit at my table, but my brain would not budge. My eyes would read, but the hemispheres refuse to process. Where my brain used to be a constant whirl of gears-- analytical, quick and responsive-- an obselete machine stone in place.

Perhaps--and hopefully, everyone shuts up and realises I'm a dumbass.

Let this dismal episode be a blessing in disguise.
The erosional forces to remove the taken-for-granted regolith on a compressed bedrock. Just like pressure release. It might be psychological, it might be neurotically me, but I felt like I got some load off my back. With the actualization that I did fail my math paper my brain is starting to loosen up, to function again.

Because next time, I've got nothing to lose.


Monday, March 23, 2009
RE_


My last entry was dated December 10th.
Re-reading it was rather amusing; it really seems like I died there in Japan.

Well, Jolene died during the massacre that is blocks.

*

I take back all I say about last year, because studying for blocks has been nothing short of a painful, horrible affair that bordered on mental and emotional self-abuse. Cramming information into my head without comprehension was somewhat like stuffing sausages down the oesophagus without knowing exactly what type of meat went processed into it. My head failed to function; it was a hurricane-ridden mess of confusion up there in the decomposing remains of the brain.

And one experiences an epiphany in the most random of times.

Suddenly, there was this desperate need to blog.
Like, mental egestion.
After being constipated for so many months I finally had the runs.

Welcome back, Jolene.


Previously

November 2008
December 2008
March 2009

CREDITS
x x x x x