Friday, August 17, 2007

mending broken mirrors.

It's been a very strange day.

For one thing, I actually made it to my 0830hr class on time (well, 15 min late due to bad weather, but who's counting). But don't raise your hopes up too high, Lynne is nowhere near redemption nor salvation when it comes to class punctuality, but she will do her damnest to try. This, despite having stayed up all night listening to Elgar's 1st (I love you Dominic). I know, I'm quite impressed myself too.

Haven't done this in a long while, just listening to music and my silence, and oh boy, does it feel good. There is this strange clarity of mind all wrapped up in a false security blanket of haziness, with golden arrows of the morning dawn piercing through your head and I always feel rather rejuvenated. As if all the shadows have finally been chased away.

Also, there's just something about Elgar's 1st. I can't explain it to you, just that it's so rousing. I know, it's the exuberance and immunity of youth, I think that is what it exemplifies. It always makes me want to play passionate patriot and punch the air with my clenched fist in teary jubilation and shout silly slogans and vehemently fight for what I believe in, but I haven't quite figured out just what, or who, all these turbulent feelings are for.

That led on to an anguished relearning of old epiphanies. I've only spoken about this to one or two people, but basically, the theory is that whether we are fully cognizant or otherwise, we pass our hurts along. So, whatever hurt that had been inflicted on us, we inflict it onto others. The bullied grow up to be bullies. We become the perpetuators, and we do this for many, many sad reasons.

And today, I realize just what foolish and contrary creatures we are. That we have to convict ourselves, in order to understand, or forgive. For there is truly no substitute for first-hand experience, the irony being that we'll only do this when we're hurt beyond reprieve by a loved one. It's always about role-reversals. It's always about social inversion.

But life is also all about the mobius strip and pagan circles - it's only a matter of time before you're on the receiving end once more. And I am shaken anew at all the things that have happened, because I now see it as the necessary payment - with compound interest - for the past. The process of emotional osteoporosis can only pick up with alarming speed, and the debt can only grow larger and larger with time. Most of us will never have the strength to break free from this slavery, which disguises itself as a beguiling enchantment we have to obey - we are too masochistic for our own good. But there is the cursed hope, that we are all endowed with the freedom of choice to employ restraint, and the gift of maturity to seek - and give - forgiveness. Even so, there is that nagging feeling that these can only be cultivated and nurtured through the experience of heartwrenching pain. Baptism through fire and adversity, no?

Anyway. I know I sound very gloomy, but it's hard not to do so when you have to write and dictate the terms of your will. (Long story) You start thinking about all your worldly possessions, who to give what, letting go of all that you deem precious when death claims you, all the regrets you have stacked right up to the moon, things like that. It makes me want to live life so hard, so fervently, without any qualms, that when the day comes for me to depart, I can leave knowing that I've said all my iloveyous and imsorrys to my most treasured and beloved ones.

So today, I lived life thinking about the imminent end, and as such, I lived without enforcing any of my usual barriers around the heart and mind. It's a refreshing change to not deny, hide, or ignore what I really feel beneath cryptic and pompous phrases, and hence, this very straightforward blogpost today.

I've said too much as usual, but what are words, but yet another illusion of constructive symbolism to express the inexpressible? They only exist for the moment, as they rightly should. Nothing in this world is immutable, except its benevolent promises of change and irrevocable mortality.

Good night, everyone.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

rolling my eyes so fast it's all a blur; running; ...
the unbearable lightness of being.
'and, so it is.'
again!
881; la mer; before saying; devastated.
all of my own making.
drunken sailors blind sailing
the mysterious hand who deals the dice of indeterm...
A pair of chopsticks, with dancing flames for crow...
elegy; pavane.

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.