i'm at it again. the late night surfing... searching, looking, for things out of reach...

floating in a nexus of time and space and existence in my mind... anything else is but intrusion...

it's that time of the year again when the days get longer and nights shorter. who would have thought our sunny little island would have such pseudo-summers. a little late in the year no doubt, but yes, definitely the days are getting longer...

yearly without fail, there would come a time when suddenly i would stop and think: how come it's still so bright at 5? 5 is now as bright as 4 and 6 only begins to show the aging of the day...

usually the period between 4.30 and 5.30, on nice sunny days is what i think autumn must look like. "there is a certain slant of light" (to borrow from Emily Dickinson) in that half-sleepy, half-alive time of day where everything is golden and warm, comfortable and peaceful ... just what i imagine autumn in the countryside must feel like... =)

it is at times like these when i recall Browsea Island, Poole Habour, England. It's been nearly 6 yrs and I haven't forgotten the silence of nature, the darkness of night, the crispness of the air, the peace, the misty morning on the last day when we saw deer in the woods... i swore i would return one day and i intend to keep that promise...

everyone around me are celebrating their 21st birthdays... well most i know are already 21. is it such a big deal? being 21? isn't that just another number, an arbitrary way of keeping track of the years... what if our numbering system began with 12? that'll make us 33. would 33 then carry the same connotations 21 carries now? what if our numbering system is counted in negatives...

point is.. what's with the magic 21? i don't dig the freedom and adulthood crap. who defines adulthood as beginning from 21. who defines that once u hit the 21 life is different! to me, being 20, 21, 22, 19, 18 are just numbers. a couple of numbers put together supposing to mean something.

but that's not to say i don't feel more 'grown up'. last year i could still say i felt like a kid, stuck at 18 and that 2 yrs of university life didn't seem to have made that much of a difference. but subtly... subtly that feeling's gone and disappeared and i'm beginning to feel my age... feel the sense of my age. and sometimes i think : hey i am kinda big now huh... and then i feel jaded...

you look at the freshies and you think: we'll see how long they last. you look at presentations, essays and tests and you go: not again! and roll your eyes, and then you look at the freshies again and say once more: we'll see how long they last, this time with some sort of a vengence.

i think it's a mixture of envy (where did my enthusiasiam go?) and disdain (year 1s..pah!); a wish that you were that 'young' again and yet thankful you aren't all giddiness and fluff (were we ever like that?) ... ah well...

anyway envy and disdain aside, i've got to go... a friend of mine is treating us to ice cream...in celebration for her 21st... whatever i might say abt turning 21, i still wouldn't miss it for the world. because when you've gone through 17,18,19 and 20 and are now going through 21 together, these numbers suddenly take on a whole new meaning yes?

cheers to age and 21...