today i reclaimed my desk from the piles of paper which threatened to engulf it. (they've been sitting there since what seems to be the dawn of time) clearing my desk reminds me of how the netherlands was made. (as the saying goes: "God made the world, but the Dutch made the Netherlands.") once upon a time, i was once still young and foolish and had yet to learn the process of empoldering from secondary school geography classes, whenever i read about the dutch reclaiming their land from the north sea, i had the mental image of dutchmen in wooden shoes attaching ropes and hooks to the seabed and pulling it up above the waters, inch by inch, a bit like fishing.

those were the days. i was rather disappointed to discover that empoldering involved merely the draining of water, like when you pull your plug out of the washbasin after having washed your face.

but hey, i was supposed to be talking about my desk. anyway, clearing my desk sort of reminds me of the dutch. and anyway, it seemed singularly to be a creative and destructive act, simultaneously. here i was, sorting out papers and carting them out to be dumped/recycled/shredded (the last option is reserved solely for the paper on which i did my maths workings on; no prizes for guessing why) i was 'creating' a desk. ok, admittedly, it's been created already in sweden (it's an ikea desk) many years back, and then imported into singapore, but then like the dutch i'm sort of pulling out my desk from a sea of papers, instilling order from a sense of chaos.

ok that was all crap. anyway, the real point is:

for the first time in 6 months i can swing my arms over my desk and not knock over any spare piles of paper! i have reconquered my desk, and delivered it from the evil clutches of notes!

somehow clearing my desk seems to be the definitive end of jc. probably more than what prom will be - after all we'll probably all then be dressed up like peacocks (even the girls - after all, 'peahen' is not a particularly flattering platitude to bestow) which is probably the furthest we can get from jc, when all of us without exception dressed in sacks and (in our uniforms) looked like animated bags of potatoes. (perhaps mutated leftovers from a good irish harvest)

and i am keeping some stuff from jc for the sake of sentiment. (haven't had the heart to throw away my history notes, a few history, econs and even lit essays. and class notes for ISLM analysis, which when taught hit me like a bolt. i could hear huge CLICKS in my mind.) but unfortunately, it seems that one or two essays that i particularly liked are nowhere to be found... does anyone happen to have a copy of my french rev essay, the very very first that we ever wrote in class? and... ah crap i cannot find my first take-home history essay either. :S

the rest go into the bin.

why do people make silly investments? when sometimes they aren't interest bearing and risky at the same time, when you have mortgaged yourself heavily on other fronts, it drains you and offers nothing back. on such occasions the circumstances have transformed what is technically an asset into what is practically a liability. perhaps when it gets too tiring to bear it might be good to let go.

anyway i think bach's fantasia and fugue in a minor, BWV 944, is wonderfully sublime, and intensely sad. for some reason all the pop music i have listened to (too much of it - it's being constantly blared out everywhere, in shopping centres, in radios, in movies, on the tv, on friends' discmans) do not have depth; they are not expressive of an outer truth, or a deeper emotion. it is all on the surface of jangling demotic rhythms, of bubblegummy tunes, sweet but not fulfilling. it is music that does not make you cry.

i need new books! am eyeing two... waiting to pounce.