I woke up with a vague toothache this morning. By the time I reached the workplace, it had turned into a dull kind of pain that comes and goes. The heat made me feel more tired than usual, not that I'm complaining about the sunshine... people at the office have been looking like drained zombies for the past few days, and it made me wonder if I, too, look like a drained zombie now.
Must be the result of the anticipation for the longer-than-usual weekend ahead of us, courtesy of religion's celebration of something that has to do with Jesus coming back from the dead. I keep wondering what the Easter bunny has to do with it nowadays, but anyway... Whatever sells, eh.
On my way back from work, I argued with myself whether to book an appointment with the dentist or not. My illogical phobia of needles wins the argument every time - well, until the pain is so excrutiating that I wish I could shoot myself in the mouth. Then the idea of letting it get worse until it killed me kind of appealed to me. I fantasised about it for a while as I was being crushed inside the train taking me home by a sweating crowd of tourists in sunglasses mixed with fellow penguins (by that I mean all the office workers wearing a more formal attire).
As I walked down the quieter streets leading to my building, and immersed as I was in the dying streaks of sunshine, more depressing thoughts began to overwhelm me. I realised that I've never felt more stupid in my life, and maybe that's down to the fact that I work in a field I know nothing about, and yet I have to keep pretending that I can somehow cope.
I went to a meeting yesterday and listened to bankers talk about how now was really the right time to get back into stock picking. I actually understood what they were on about, but then as always when I'm witnessing such occurrences, my mind suddenly starts to focus on completely different things than the ones I'm 'supposed' to care about. What I mean here is that I was supposed to focus on the bankers' talk and their announcement, but instead I found myself staring at the old banker guy, fascinated by the fact that he could talk nonstop using such complex jargon that even a dictionary couldn't help you understand it. My mind tried to understand how it was possible for a human being to be able to talk and talk about things so complex as if one was talking about the weather. I mean... The guy could go on and on without even thinking or pausing, and it made me wonder if these people were even human. Maybe they were robots, I thought to myself, and that was why they could talk about such complex and unatural things so easily.
I was kicked out of my pondering by the banker's cellphone ringing loudly all of a sudden from his pocket as he was standing in front of a screen to explain something that had to do with the talk of the day. He drew the phone out of his pocket and laughingly said that it was his wife calling. Everyone at the table laughed heartily without even the need of a prompt, it seems. My reflex was to laugh along with them, of course, but at the same time I shrugged inwardly: he must be human after all, I concluded to myself.
I was still on my way home when the sudden urge to burst into tears gripped me. I had to swallow hard and squizz my eyes for a second to chase the tears away. I got home and the cat greeted me happily, for a split-second making me forget about my unspoken sorrows, and then I stared at Charlie the hamster's cage, and then back at the cat.
"My God," I said out loud for no other human ears but mine to hear, "you don't know how lucky you two are. You're treated as brainless pets and no one expects anything from you. I'm a human treated like some pet, and yet the weight of expectations on my shoulders could dig a hole as big as the universe."
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Friday, 1 April 2011
02/04/2011
Listening to this at the moment and wondering about too many things at once... Far too many uncertain factors at play in my life this time.
So many things I thought were true turned out to be so wrong, or flawed... So many things I wished for... but the monster that swallows all of our dreams swallowed mine, too. People always discriminate against each other - that's almost as if that ability was in our genes, and maybe it is - but the monster never does. It hits each and every one of us regardless of anything.
There is this picture of me as a kid sitting down right on the floor in the middle of the living room, holding my old cat prisoner between my knees as we both sit in front of a cage holding three tiny hamsters prisoners inside it, and I'm gazing up at the camera with defiant eyes. If I could go back in time and talk to that little girl, I would warn her, even though I already know she would never listen. I would tell her to be mindful of that gaze about her, and those dreams I know she nurtured within her so ardently... because I know what happens next while she doesn't - because she still believes in fairytales, and she still lives trapped in her own universe.
It's nobody's fault. It's this life, the way it exists in itself, the way it works like clockwork, and we are just the loose element within that world...
I am tired. I am less and less able to relate to the person I used to be, and at the same time I know that who I am now is better than who I was before... should it matter, then? Probably not, I guess.
Someone once said that you have to reach the bottom of the ocean before you can make your way back to the surface, and it feels kind of right. Yes, maybe it is right... I don't know.
I don't know.
The only thing I'm certain of is that I don't know.
Things happen, things break. Nothing ever lasts. I know the only reason things don't last is because we want them to break in some way. I know that alone I can't make anything last or be good for long. I know that. I know too many things I wish I didn't know.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm wrong about absolutely everything I ever thought I knew, and because I fear this could well be the case I think I should shut up for a while.
Dear unknown reader, I'm outta here.
So many things I thought were true turned out to be so wrong, or flawed... So many things I wished for... but the monster that swallows all of our dreams swallowed mine, too. People always discriminate against each other - that's almost as if that ability was in our genes, and maybe it is - but the monster never does. It hits each and every one of us regardless of anything.
There is this picture of me as a kid sitting down right on the floor in the middle of the living room, holding my old cat prisoner between my knees as we both sit in front of a cage holding three tiny hamsters prisoners inside it, and I'm gazing up at the camera with defiant eyes. If I could go back in time and talk to that little girl, I would warn her, even though I already know she would never listen. I would tell her to be mindful of that gaze about her, and those dreams I know she nurtured within her so ardently... because I know what happens next while she doesn't - because she still believes in fairytales, and she still lives trapped in her own universe.
It's nobody's fault. It's this life, the way it exists in itself, the way it works like clockwork, and we are just the loose element within that world...
I am tired. I am less and less able to relate to the person I used to be, and at the same time I know that who I am now is better than who I was before... should it matter, then? Probably not, I guess.
Someone once said that you have to reach the bottom of the ocean before you can make your way back to the surface, and it feels kind of right. Yes, maybe it is right... I don't know.
I don't know.
The only thing I'm certain of is that I don't know.
Things happen, things break. Nothing ever lasts. I know the only reason things don't last is because we want them to break in some way. I know that alone I can't make anything last or be good for long. I know that. I know too many things I wish I didn't know.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm wrong about absolutely everything I ever thought I knew, and because I fear this could well be the case I think I should shut up for a while.
Dear unknown reader, I'm outta here.
Good day
Good night
Good bye.
Good night
Good bye.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Dreaming... dreaming... dreamed... Dreams... A distortion of reality as we live it?
I saw things, beautiful things - in my mind's eye... and then they were gone, these beautiful visions, replaced with versions of your reality.
Your reality is cold and implacable. Your reality dictates that everything should revolve around profit and personal gain of some sort.
Reality is so cold... Frozen with the same old 'feelings', really. I dare YOU to try and narrow down what feelings people actually get to experience in this reality when they are above the poverty line (meaning when they are above basic instincts of seeking food, or refuge, for mere survival)... What is it that repeats itself over and over again in this world - what makes this whole world turn?
Greed. Want. Profit of some sort - be it purely personal or genetically-based ( I mean by that wanting to secure the best for some so-called progeny, or 'children').
I am SO sick of all of you... no one has any idea how sick I am of you lot. Yeah, all of you. None of you is strong. None of you is ready to die for what makes sense, what is simply righter than wrong... I'm not even saying 'what's right', I'm saying what's 'righter' than wrong.
Oh, but wait, I can hear it already, the same old excuse I used to give to myself... 'but I'm too small and insignificant to be able to do anything'... Yeah, I know that one really well, you see. I used to tell myself just that. Well, guess what, I say fuck off to that pathetic excuse. We are I, and we can do anything in this world... we really can.. because we are I...
The only reason we feel overwhelmed by this corrupted world is because we allow it to destroy this notion of together-ness, this... notion of a whole even beyond the fact that each of us is one.
I know this, and you know this too, deep down. So why is all this bullshit happening?
I'll rest my case soon, but not just yet.
From this gloomy and sombre night
A thousand and one glass eyes at a stand-still
In the distance;
Across the dead city
Wrapped in its ebony shroud,
A thousand and one icy lights shimmer.
Such a sinister picture painted
From the grey, moaning window,
All these yellow eyes staring at me
In spite of white curtains waving
Akin to dead eyelids…
To reach beyond the dreadful black veil
Shared only by rust-covered iron lions,
A soothing music luring me away
To see at last the true sun
Glowing,
Scorching,
Melting away the icy walls,
Tearing away at each ghastly shroud
That haunts the beyond of my sobbing window.
A thousand and one glass eyes at a stand-still
In the distance;
Across the dead city
Wrapped in its ebony shroud,
A thousand and one icy lights shimmer.
Such a sinister picture painted
From the grey, moaning window,
All these yellow eyes staring at me
In spite of white curtains waving
Akin to dead eyelids…
To reach beyond the dreadful black veil
Shared only by rust-covered iron lions,
A soothing music luring me away
To see at last the true sun
Glowing,
Scorching,
Melting away the icy walls,
Tearing away at each ghastly shroud
That haunts the beyond of my sobbing window.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
01/03/2011
Still listening to a song that takes me back in time. The song in question is this one.
Funny how songs or music in general manage so well to capture memories in time... but not just images - oh no... Not just that. A song or music can capture an exact moment, including a scene, a scent, the emotions experienced, even the things said or thought at the time. Just like good wine, the key to preserving such moments captured in music is to let that piece of music be 'forgotten' for a long time so that the memory attached to it will grow in strength and power. After a few years, listening to it again is garrantied to make the precise captured moment come back to mind at once. Well, that's how it works for me anyway.
I wonder... about so many things... It's night again in the city but the sky is a starless sheet of darkness.
Let's light up a candle and let it rest by the silent window, and as we let it burn to nothingness, let the mind escape and dream of things that will be, and of all those that never will.
Funny how songs or music in general manage so well to capture memories in time... but not just images - oh no... Not just that. A song or music can capture an exact moment, including a scene, a scent, the emotions experienced, even the things said or thought at the time. Just like good wine, the key to preserving such moments captured in music is to let that piece of music be 'forgotten' for a long time so that the memory attached to it will grow in strength and power. After a few years, listening to it again is garrantied to make the precise captured moment come back to mind at once. Well, that's how it works for me anyway.
I wonder... about so many things... It's night again in the city but the sky is a starless sheet of darkness.
Let's light up a candle and let it rest by the silent window, and as we let it burn to nothingness, let the mind escape and dream of things that will be, and of all those that never will.
Monday, 21 February 2011
'Don't tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass.'- A. Chekov
Words, words, words... dancing in my head. One side of the mind occupied with understanding all things, another busy imagining stories, yet another reined in to deal with your reality. Guess which sides are happier, and which is the one that constantly rebels against the task?
I would truly hate to be writing cheesy stories for the sake of it... No, I'd rather cut off both my hands. Each must have a deeper point that would allow for my thoughts to be better 'digested' by others.
It's so strange... every time I think of one of the stories I have in mind, I realise that each bears its own main struggles in terms of writing it. One I am still unable to write the right introduction and first chapter, yet most of the story itself was flowing almost painlessly out of my head... but without a first chapter, you might as well kill the story as a whole, in a way. Another story brings about the greater difficulty of thorough research and language style. With yet another, I have no difficulty writing the beginning, but get stumped with the 'heart' of the story itself, or rather the structure that should be used for it (because of jumps in the timeline within the story), etc, etc...
Then there is the issue of me getting lost in my own head, seeing stories like a movie, and every time I 'watch' them, more intricate detail is added in layers... But it makes it too easy to just keep watching while forgetting to write.
I'm not worried though, for I experienced how it felt when the time was right for a story to come out at least in a draft form... when the idea has matured enough in my head, it seems that I am quite capable of complete dedication to the task.
Words, words, words...
Once upon a tide
Washing over my life,
The breathing ocean
That knew no boundaries
Stretches over the land
Drenched in sorrows forgotten
In the pit of the mouth of hell
Opened one day, and only by chance
When all was blind and withered,
And only tears came out from a single eye
On the forehead of Time fleeing
The senseless rule of Man.
Washing over my life,
The breathing ocean
That knew no boundaries
Stretches over the land
Drenched in sorrows forgotten
In the pit of the mouth of hell
Opened one day, and only by chance
When all was blind and withered,
And only tears came out from a single eye
On the forehead of Time fleeing
The senseless rule of Man.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
20/02/2011
It's a quiet Sunday afternoon. A cool, almost freezing wind keeps swirling into the room through the window I keep open even though my whole body is numbed by the coldness.
Lost as I am in deep thought, I delve into the intense swelling waves of emotions that keep rolling along the shores of my whole being. Earlier, I went to make myself a cup of tea and went back into my room... my feet took me to the window, and as I stood there blankly looking out at the grey and overcast horizon, I caught a glimpse of two men by the building's large rubbish bins in one corner of the parking lot. I gazed down at them with sudden interest and watched as they seemed to be looking for something inside the bins. First I took in the men's appearance... They were wearing caps so that from where I was standing I could never really see their faces clearly, but they looked rather young, no more than 30. One of them retrieved a large bag from the bin and found in it many electrical cords and other discarted battery leads, which he proceeded to shove into his own backpack. The other man was busy looking into the other bin... sifting through all the rubbish in a very expert way, at times throwing something of interest to his friend who would swiftly shove it inside his backpack.
Scavengers of modern times, I thought to myself as I observed the two men from the window... I grew so fascinated by the scene that I forgot everything else as I watched them carry on their scavenging expedition.
At some point, one of them found discarted bright yellow vests council as well as construction workers often use when working outside. The first thing the man did was check the pockets, of course. As they were empty, he threw them aside... and then hesitated for a second or two before pulling one of them back to him to try it on. I watched that man try on the bright yellow vest just the same way people do in a clothing store. He seemed happy with it because he kept it on and then threw the other vest at his friend, who proceeded to try it on as well. Suddenly, they no longer looked so obvious as scavengers... and people who passed them by no longer threw puzzled glances at them. No, they simply thought they must be workers of some sort because of the yellow vests, you see.
I grew so fascinated by what I was watching that I didn't even hear my mother come into my room. Standing at the threshold she said: "What are you looking at so intently, hmm?"
I just smiled back at her and said: "I'm watching these two men taking stuff out of the bins, it's fascinating." My mother gave me a perplexed look, but soon enough she was standing next to me to have a glance herself... and at once she, too, was watching them as they carried on exploring what they could salvage from others' discarted things. It went on for a while, and then the two men picked up their bulging backpacks before disappearing as suddenly as they'd appeared.
They left no mess behind, careful to put everything back as it was, and truly no one could have known they'd ever been near those bins.
Another thing that shocked me although it shouldn't really surprise me... it's the amount of stuff people just throw away even though it probably could be fixed easily. Some things even looked brand new, but I guess people keep throwing stuff out to make room for 'newer' things. And then looking at these two scavengers working so seamlessly as a team reminded me of the natural order or chain of nature... In nature, you get the hunter-type of animal that will catch the prey, eat what it needs from it and discart the rest while other animals then come into the picture to finish off the rest, etc... In the case of human beings, it seems that we have our very own food chain within the species itself. Or something of the sort...
It seemed so stupid to me that apparently it's illegal to take things out of people's bins. I mean, why not? If you choose to throw things out, and if others could still have use of them in some ways, then why not allow for it? No... apparently it's not proper to allow for that because for some reason you have a 'right' to own your own rubbish till it's collected by 'officials' or something...
Lost as I am in deep thought, I delve into the intense swelling waves of emotions that keep rolling along the shores of my whole being. Earlier, I went to make myself a cup of tea and went back into my room... my feet took me to the window, and as I stood there blankly looking out at the grey and overcast horizon, I caught a glimpse of two men by the building's large rubbish bins in one corner of the parking lot. I gazed down at them with sudden interest and watched as they seemed to be looking for something inside the bins. First I took in the men's appearance... They were wearing caps so that from where I was standing I could never really see their faces clearly, but they looked rather young, no more than 30. One of them retrieved a large bag from the bin and found in it many electrical cords and other discarted battery leads, which he proceeded to shove into his own backpack. The other man was busy looking into the other bin... sifting through all the rubbish in a very expert way, at times throwing something of interest to his friend who would swiftly shove it inside his backpack.
Scavengers of modern times, I thought to myself as I observed the two men from the window... I grew so fascinated by the scene that I forgot everything else as I watched them carry on their scavenging expedition.
At some point, one of them found discarted bright yellow vests council as well as construction workers often use when working outside. The first thing the man did was check the pockets, of course. As they were empty, he threw them aside... and then hesitated for a second or two before pulling one of them back to him to try it on. I watched that man try on the bright yellow vest just the same way people do in a clothing store. He seemed happy with it because he kept it on and then threw the other vest at his friend, who proceeded to try it on as well. Suddenly, they no longer looked so obvious as scavengers... and people who passed them by no longer threw puzzled glances at them. No, they simply thought they must be workers of some sort because of the yellow vests, you see.
I grew so fascinated by what I was watching that I didn't even hear my mother come into my room. Standing at the threshold she said: "What are you looking at so intently, hmm?"
I just smiled back at her and said: "I'm watching these two men taking stuff out of the bins, it's fascinating." My mother gave me a perplexed look, but soon enough she was standing next to me to have a glance herself... and at once she, too, was watching them as they carried on exploring what they could salvage from others' discarted things. It went on for a while, and then the two men picked up their bulging backpacks before disappearing as suddenly as they'd appeared.
They left no mess behind, careful to put everything back as it was, and truly no one could have known they'd ever been near those bins.
Another thing that shocked me although it shouldn't really surprise me... it's the amount of stuff people just throw away even though it probably could be fixed easily. Some things even looked brand new, but I guess people keep throwing stuff out to make room for 'newer' things. And then looking at these two scavengers working so seamlessly as a team reminded me of the natural order or chain of nature... In nature, you get the hunter-type of animal that will catch the prey, eat what it needs from it and discart the rest while other animals then come into the picture to finish off the rest, etc... In the case of human beings, it seems that we have our very own food chain within the species itself. Or something of the sort...
It seemed so stupid to me that apparently it's illegal to take things out of people's bins. I mean, why not? If you choose to throw things out, and if others could still have use of them in some ways, then why not allow for it? No... apparently it's not proper to allow for that because for some reason you have a 'right' to own your own rubbish till it's collected by 'officials' or something...
Sunday, 13 February 2011
I had found this old audio tape with cartoon songs the other day, which my mother had saved for 'posterity' along with my slight speech 'impediment' many children have at a young age... and as I was reminded of all things past, today I remembered that the first ever 'pop' song I really liked was this one.(It starts with a little 'story').
The song, from a French singer called Mylene Farmer and entitled 'Pourvu qu'elles soient douces', was a very daring one for the times (mid-80's). I was exactly 4 years old. I was absolutely mesmerised by the video... but of course the one I just linked to You Tube is the extended, uncensored version... the one I used to be able to watch on TV was the censored one, but I clearly remember the officer using his whip to uncover the girl's bottom. And everyt time I heard the music starting on TV, I would run into the living room to watch it... I was like that little boy peering inside the tent, I guess. I was only 4 years old, and I had no notion of sex or desire, but this one song along with its clip resonated in me from the start, I just had no idea why. It just felt so... sensual and erotic, without understanding why.
I'll be honest and let you know that even though I was only a tiny child at the time, I remember strikingly feeling things in my body... the key difference here is that I had no notion of what it meant.
Today, I can go on wikipedia and learn about what that song really was about, and then I have to laugh at the thought that in the household I happened to grow up in, it was quite okay to call me every time the clip came on TV (the censored version, obviously). but this one song... it was the first ever modern song I listened to and actually really liked.
Apart from that, I was also listening to the Batman Begins soundtrack today... especially this track, but it has to be listened to from start to finish. This one track actually happened to suit my mood perfectly today, especially the softer passages.
The song, from a French singer called Mylene Farmer and entitled 'Pourvu qu'elles soient douces', was a very daring one for the times (mid-80's). I was exactly 4 years old. I was absolutely mesmerised by the video... but of course the one I just linked to You Tube is the extended, uncensored version... the one I used to be able to watch on TV was the censored one, but I clearly remember the officer using his whip to uncover the girl's bottom. And everyt time I heard the music starting on TV, I would run into the living room to watch it... I was like that little boy peering inside the tent, I guess. I was only 4 years old, and I had no notion of sex or desire, but this one song along with its clip resonated in me from the start, I just had no idea why. It just felt so... sensual and erotic, without understanding why.
I'll be honest and let you know that even though I was only a tiny child at the time, I remember strikingly feeling things in my body... the key difference here is that I had no notion of what it meant.
Today, I can go on wikipedia and learn about what that song really was about, and then I have to laugh at the thought that in the household I happened to grow up in, it was quite okay to call me every time the clip came on TV (the censored version, obviously). but this one song... it was the first ever modern song I listened to and actually really liked.
Apart from that, I was also listening to the Batman Begins soundtrack today... especially this track, but it has to be listened to from start to finish. This one track actually happened to suit my mood perfectly today, especially the softer passages.
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