The last brief spell of comforting darkness before the sunshine orange yellow gold of dawn fades in purposefully, haughtily. And already the stife and restlessness of the school term starts, with students beginning the ungodly routine of going to school. Placidly, flaccidly they trudge to class. Obediently, they begin to fill themselves with things they will never ever use in their lives. The certificate is just a passport to a (hopefully) better life. Its afterall, the Singaporean Dream. Wasted years of bereaucracy.

Obediently, I will once again stand at attention to a National Anthem with no meaning for me, recite a pledge for equality that hold no posibility and lie once again as I sing the school song. Subserviently, I will rise and bow to teachers who cannot teach and greet principals and discipline masters who deserve no respect. All of this, the Singaporean Dream. Wonderful hypocrisy.

Soon I will enlist in my compulsory National Service, where I will be used and abused. Maybe, I will die and waste all the "education" I've had for the last 15 years of my life like the recruits who dropped dead straight into the insincerities of "national condolences, but we still must continue with some dying every year." Or maybe, I will die as a national hero (if my country wins) for a war I didn't start, for people I don't care to die for, in a country where I have no voting power because I am a minor who is too minor to vote, but not minor enough and must still go to war and die anyway. We are, afterall, just a tool to achieve some obscure ideology.

But most likely, because statistics tell me so, I will fulfill another portion in the wasted years of bereaucracy, and finally study something that I'll finally use. Get a job, get paid marginally higher than a female in compensation for two wasted years of my time (like time like that can ever be bought) and begin the long slog to pay off an atrociously expensive small house and car when I can get both at a fraction in Australia. Afterall, its the Pay And Pay more country.

When I finally become financially independent, hopefully I still have the capacity to enjoy life after years of overwork, stress and fatigue. Keeping both eyes on inflation and my depreciating bank account, I'm forced to spend within ever smaller means. Get sick, and watch the account black hole into nothing. Sell my house, sell my car and move into an ever smaller room in an ever smaller Home for the Elderly, where I become senile as I wait patiently (or not) to die. If I am lucky, I go in relatively little pain.


Of course, the rapture might happen tomorrow and out the window this random speculation goes.

Being honest, I would regret not getting laid, getting my CFS-III Yamaha Grand, learning the violin like Yao wants to, forming a band with Alex, getting Japanese citizenship, marrying someone as pretty as Goto Maki, Ai Takahashi or Reiko Tsuchiya, (a brilliantly beautiful and beautifully brilliant violinist) + (they are all Japanese btw), not being able to attend Ayaka Iida's or Utada Hikaru's or Yui's concerts.. Not ever tasting authentic wagyu or kobe beef *sobs* ...or eating the nice white chocolate cheesecake from Japan again.. Not owning the Sony DSC-W300 and taking all those wonderful pictures on my first trip to Japan (hopefully at the end of the year).

So, its been ever so lovely to indulge in such fantastic dreams. Nicholas, I haven't been very truthful with you. *laughs* Gocchan is beautiful no doubt, but it is what she represents (at least to me) that gives me a certain hope for the future, that makes all these wasted years in a bereaucracy enjoyable. It is this thing called "dreams" and what Eugene knows as "ideals" that sustains the human spirit.


And at last, I have found my bankai's name.

It is.. エスポワール:夢の又夢