I was thinking a LOT last night cos I couldn't get to sleep (what's new??). Thought about the past - albeit promising myself not to. About the people I knew (or thought I knew). I guess in lieu of the recent body parts murder thing, we really can't trust anyone. Someone whom you thought was unblemished and trustworthy might turn out to be your biggest foe. Even in Silas Marner, when William Dane betrays Silas, George Eliot is deliberately trying to show us that even your best friend is capable of setting you up and screwing you over. Unfortunately, I think I've trusted people too easily. People ask me "what do you see in XXX???!". Although there are times when XXX treats me like shit, there's a good side, and more often than not, I choose to see the good side and neglect the bad. I mean, why pick on people's faults when there are far more glorious things to talk about?

What object would I choose to represent myself? This question is something that I've been thinking about, and finally, I decided on a blank canvas. Apt, because I do art, and also because of the more intrinsic meaning. A blank canvas holds no strings attached. It's plain, white, pure, unblemished and innocent. What you see is what you get. I won't say that I'm "pure and innocent" but I suppose the fact that I'm always there, ready for the world and what it offers, really makes a blank canvas represent who I am. Eventually, I might get scribbled on, might have paint drizzled/splashed on, get cut up, and have my appearace drastically and irrevocably altered, but underneath all the onion layers of crap piled on me, I'm still who I am. Plain, simple. On the surface, complex, but underneath, it's just ME. No holds barred.

Wow, I really don't know what's the point of this entry. Just wanted to write, I suppose. Bearing in mind the tough few months ahead, I guess I'm ready to fly, and my world stops only when my feet fail to touch the solid ground.