Right now, I'm trying to recover from my being forced attempt to run six kilometres around the campus.

I don't think I will ever be one of those people who manage to find any sort of joy whatsoever in running. It struck me today, as I was plodding along the pavement, how incredibly boring it all is. Just step after step, heading towards nothing in particular, except for the place where you first started out from. In the end, nothing's been accomplished, except that I feel better about having devoured a foot-long meatball sub at dinner. But then I sit down and open up a packet of chocolates, so that all becomes a moo point.

Anyway, I was appalled by my utter inability to keep up a steady jog. After the first three centimetres or so, I gave up and started an odd sprint-stroll combination that, after a long long long while, finally took me back to my hall. And it was distressing to note that this is the attitude with which I conduct my life. It seems I can never keep up with anything for very long before the fire dies out and I'm back to the way I was before. And I wonder why my life is such a tangle of unfinished beginnings. Maybe I'd be a radically different person now if I had the discipline, determination and persistence to pursue any of them to the end, but I don't.

That aside, I stepped into Jurong Point today during peak hours, and don't-put-my-name was right; it IS grossly overcrowded. I'm not going back there again without a pair of stilts. I need my daily dosage of oxygen.

scribbled
11:06 PM