“To be a clown, you need certain personality traits, in particular an inner intense sorrow coupled with a joviality that transcends it.”

Jean Lambert-wild, French theatre director-producer

Because you don’t know sweetness until tasting bitterness, nor love before indifference.


On White(ned) Teeth

I have a thing against people whose teeth are too white.

While a certain degree of whiteness implies good dental hygiene, when the whiteness level is maxed to its limit [1], I find myself harbouring a strange mistrust towards the teeth’s owner. My judgement shifts from respecting his/ her excellent personal hygiene to second-guessing the reasons said person had their teeth whitened, because surely there is such a thing as too-white teeth which are not achievable by the regular toothbrush and only enabled by specific chemical [2] applications.

Unfair [3] though it may be, I can’t help but wonder about whether those white(ned) teeth correspond to a whitewashing of their owner’s lives. Whether those blinding bones is a reflection of a too-white social life – a life constructed like sugar icing on cakes: a pretty cover-up, insubstantial and sickly sweet.

Or maybe they are just distracting.

  1. Or beyond, such that the things are really bordering on silver.
  2. Or otherwise.
  3. And perhaps unkind.

After the exam, before the toga

Considering that I had been looking forward so much to it, I would have thought that finally clearing my last paper at the university would give me more satisfaction [1]. Yet here I am, a month after I handed in the last answer script of my life [2], and nothing in particular has changed.

Oh, fine, so now I have more ‘free’ time and I am looking at job boards instead of lecture notes, but nothing else, you know? It’s all rather anti-climactic, to be honest. Maybe it’s too much to hope for birds singing and exploding a la Cinderella [3], but surely a flower-scented breeze? [4]. Or a thunderstorm? Yes, a nice, cooling thunderstorm – I’ll even settle for your regular rain – is surely not too much to ask for.

Maybe what I’ve been hoping for is not so much an external change but rather a change in me.

Wow. Am I that naive, still? Naive enough to believe – to expect that simply because my modular credit count has [5] pronounced me  a graduate, I have graduated from the university-phase of my life?

Apparently that’s so. Hmm. I’ve got to say that that’s quite…can I say shocking here? Can one pull a fast one on oneself? Or ‘interesting’. Ha! That’s more like it. Interesting, me.

All things considered, I suppose I’m not (much of) a graduate (yet). At least, not by my own reckoning [6]. Kind of relieving to admit that, actually. Anybody else has a similar problem? Maybe one of you internet bugs swimming on the airwaves [7] is also having an identity crisis?

But really, come on, me. You got to move on (preferably soon), you know?

  1. Or more of a sense of freedom. or something.
  2. I meant my university life.
  3. Actually I have a feeling it was someone else. Sleeping Beauty? Snow White?
  4. Maybe not. That’s a tad creepy.
  5. Well, almost. You know what I mean.
  6. And I do think that’s a pretty good standard to judge by. Really. No, really.
  7. Or whatever wave or non-wave entity it is. Probably that was a giveaway that I didn’t major in physics.