Home > life and times, music, observations and ramblings > vaccinate this social plague

vaccinate this social plague

It’s 2am and, once again, State of Fear is blasting through my speakers. I bought their Discography CD at Ricecooker on Wednesday and, according to a bit of calculation done on my last.fm statistics, I’ve listened to the album 3(.11-something-something) times over the past 48 hours and a bit (going to be 4.11-something-something times soon). Not enough! 46 minutes of raging d-beat fury, and I love it to bits.

I’ve been feeling occasionally very angry lately. Occasionally bitter, hateful and misanthropic as well. Am I listening to more crust/d-beat than usual because I’m angry or am I angry because I’ve been listening to more crust/d-beat than usual? The mind boggles. Possibilities, possibilities.

Had an 8.30 class this morning and didn’t get much sleep last night. By all accounts I should be really fucking sleepy right now (and I am, for the record)—particularly as I didn’t sleep a wink during the day—but, as evidenced by this post, I’m still not asleep yet. And I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m saying anything particularly important in this post that I need to say at this very moment.

I’m depriving myself of sleep. For what reason, I don’t know.

I know very little, don’t I? “I don’t know” this, “I don’t know” that. And another “I don’t know” to come soon:

12-something in the afternoon. In a friend’s car, on the LDP. I mention how I’ve been feeling particularly out of it and out of my depth at college recently, and how I go into class and I “rasa macam taktau apa-apa pun.” (“Feel like I don’t know anything.”)

Her: “Yeah. I noticed that. Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about . . . what happened?”

And, you know what? I couldn’t really answer. Not concretely. Not half as well as I’d like to have answered. Long, drawn-out “I”‘s and “uhh”s. An inability to say anything with conviction. Sudden confusion. A feeling of patheticness creeping over me. Making less and less sense the more I tried to speak.

No, no I haven’t really been thinking about that. Not much. Occasionally, yes, I do think about it, and I still feel stupid, but most of the time I’m past it. The whole “obsessing” stage, at least. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. I’m not feeling particularly great about it.

I managed to get words out, hesitantly, and while I forget what I told her exactly, I do remember telling her that I’m ok. That things still hurt, but that I am ok.

But am I, really?

I . . . (complete the sentence, kids!)

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