white noise

Recently, I've put my mp3 on random.

I am, once again, commuting. It is no surprise that my mind wanders. I am standing and holding the overhead railing. I wasn't lucky enough to get a seat, or even one of those spots where you can lean against a solid structure: the closed doors, or the little glass partitions at the end of each bank of seats, or the end of the carriage. Consequently, I sway with the rhythm of the train as it jostles its way to the next station.

The next random song comes on.

The man in front of me is also listening to his mp3. The woman in front of the man in front of me, she too has an mp3. I surveyed the carriage for other mp3-like devices.

More than half of my fellow commuters are only partly here, like me. They are partly in a world of their own choosing.

I wonder what music is playing in the train right now, at this very moment. Is my own selection representative?

Muse, Madonna, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Chico Buarque, Gal Costa, Kelis, Lauren Hill, Amy Wine(Whine)house, Coldplay, Portishead, Lily Allen, Bjork, Eric Clapton, David Bowie, Nightwish...

I wonder if all the sounds in all the ears of all the commuters in my carriage were turned up, would it be an unbearable sound? Or would there be so much sound of every pitch and colour that it would drown itself out and be silent?

Is silence white? If so, what does black sound like? Would the confluence of every sound possible in the world drive a mind crazy? Could the human ear cope? What about our poor canine friends?

How can I have all these thoughts? I recognise them for what they are: passing. I will be too lazy to think more on these thoughts once I step out and onto the next platform.

I think about how I once had a similar thought: a thought about buying a recording of silence so that when I don't feel like listening to music but I also don't want to hear the noise of the hurtling train, I could put on silence, and all would be quiet. Or black (or white?).

I remember I considered myself clever for having such an original thought. I mentioned the idea to a friend who pointed out that very concept was used in all sorts of musical equipment, including some fancy headphones that are on the market.

So I wasn't so clever or original afterall.

Remembering this previous episode with previous thoughts, I remind myself I am not original, and this makes me remember a book by Milan Kundera that begins by denying the originality of an individual gesture.

If you can't even have an original gesture, you surely can't have an original thought. It's all just built up on top of previous gestures and thoughts. You are not original. You are small. A dot in the universe.

I think how some people would find this train of thought (literally) depressing.

I find it liberating. It takes the pressure off.

picking up the pieces

Slowly I am settling my affairs and trying to get my life back on track. I know that there is still a long way to go yet and the road ahead is not going to be easy. But I’ve already travelled so far and really, there is no turing back.

So why do I sometimes feel this deep sense of grief?

Problem is, I am not sure whether I am grieving for who I have lost. I’ve come to realise that no one really needs another person to live. And that all it needs is time to rearrange how you feel and think, then even though you used to think that you cannot live without someone, that too shall pass.

That too shall pass.

I read about this statement once. How true it is. Nothing lasts anyway and when eternal darkness comes, everything is gone.

the little voice

Sometime, this little voice (TLV) in my head tells myself I need to move away from vain egotism.

TLV need to make progress. And in order for me to do so, I need to blog about real life things (not silly little thoughts), happenings, events - these are the things to be blogged about: momentous occasions, flamboyant scenes, brick and mortar actualities, not a dilettante's ephemeral notions about just anything and everything in general.

TLV would like to think that I am one for progress. So I should dig in my heals and resolve to write about happenings, events, brick and mortar actualities?

Maybe these are the things that will propel me to new heights. These are the things that represent progress.

Really?

TLV needs to be a lot more convincing than this.

in my head

(Very apt.)

I'm hit with a realisation: reading impacts me.

Not just the greater, general concept of reading, which I quite enjoy; but rather the very specific act of reading, and, more specifically, the what I'm reading, has a material impact on me. The 'material impact' that is the subject of my epiphany is temporal...

Why not temporary?

Can a material impact be material if it's temporal/temporary?

Doesn't seem very material after all.

What I'm reading influences my immediate state of mind. When I've finished with a book, my anima flutters about with a lingering theme or themes for some time - how long depends on the book and my particular susceptibility.

Eventually the potency of the completed book wanes; maybe leaving a residue; maybe not.

benched

Time spent away hasn’t been time spent with loved ones.

It’s not been holiday or celebration or bereavement. It’s not been down to any good and decent reason. It’s been about throwing yourself into work with all the enthusiasm and energy of a recent grad when really you are just in the pursuit of avoiding a mind that would wander onto wonderings of a nature that makes them want to be avoided.

It’s about not realising that this is what you’re doing: finding yourself in the office on sunday, looking at the computer screen and wondering why you came in, but certain that you can busy yourself.

And you’ve got 3 ms docs open and 4 midway-ly composed emails not yet saved to draft and you’re getting caught up in the mania that is a day full of meetings and too little time and it has worked. You’ve effectively lost yourself.

After work, you continue the escapade. The body needs rigourous movement, you move it. The plants need water, you water them. Laundry and ironing is done. If you even get to the TV, you’ll lie on the sofa and watch yourself fall asleep. You refall asleep in the bed.

What starts off being about escape has snowballed into habit. Normal circumstances require discipline to put work down and move on to priorities. I’ve thrown the discipline into the wind and abandoned myself to the chaos.

Maybe it's the annual ritual. Where things stand still and little matters.

explicity

"Isn't beer the holy libation of sincerity? The potion that dispels all hypocrisy, any charade of fine manners? The drink that does nothing worse than incite its fans to urinate in all innocence, to gain weight in all frankness?"

- Milan Kundera, Ignorance

vapour

I am like a cartoon character that has been running for a long time and now I've run off the cliff, but I'm still making those running movements.

I have a hard time getting to sleep recently, and I find myself feeling guilty if I am not working/training or doing something else along those lines. The tiredness is knots in my muscles, and in my thoughts.

I’ve done a lot this year. It has all been really wonderful, but it was hard to keep from feeling like a clock or a public bus: something made solely for use, and working all the time towards that use. So that you feel less like you are getting things done and more like things are getting you done.

So that time is not done, of course, but its parameters will shift a bit and I will make sure to do something utterly un-utilitarian soon, like spend an hour lying in bed thinking about ladybirds and strawberries, making a sandwich really slowly or attempt knitting. I do want to slow down.

Excess and waste. Or, rather, the tender stretching out of an activity to the very limits of its length, like how you ration out the ending of a really good book, measuring it in teaspoons or smaller.

The night smells sky-blue, and that is a start.

"I encourage people to be nice to their pets. They've seen you naked and not laughed. Okay, maybe they DO laugh, but they have the decency to wait until you leave the room."

- Oliver Christianson

the perpetual struggle

The wonderful thing about blogs is that one is able to revisit his thoughts so conveniently and laugh about their naviety in the past. But this is one entry that i enjoyed re-reading. In the same period 2 years ago...My struggles.

It still holds some truth and relevance but what struggles compared to now and the struggles 2 years on?

"The semster seems to have exploded into little incandescent speckles of fireworks. The beauty of it is in its split seconds. It has vanished as swift as it had arrived. Soon actually. Spasmodic brain cramps and stifling self-expectations aside, there are good things that have egressed out of this mental boot camp.

First things, I've recaptured the joy of learning - which is probably also the most important reminder. I tend to self-evaluate whenever I do things. So when I'm in the midst of studying, I question my motives. Am I just cramping words into my mind for a sake of a pass? Or do I want to learn something valuable, whether its knowledge enriching or introspective?

There are some people who tell me to just aim for a pass. Their comments sometimes make me queasy but I thank them nevetheless. Then there is the other group who concieve studying as a mere pursuit of a piece of certificate which serves as a stepping stone to a more solid and exquisite type of rice bowl, depending on the quality of the paper. The highest quality of paper in exchange for the most superior and hankered after piece of chinanery.

But listening to such things makes me feel disconcerted. I respect that people are entitled to their own opinions and much of their perspectives are actually shaped by societal guidelines.

These are standard procedures, that are established and maintained by the ruling elite and then rigorously drilled into the minds of the masses since young and being perpetuated generation after generation. It makes the nations tick. It keeps our economy churning. It maintains our social hierachy. It is life.

I'm not so much upset about the grades being ignored than the pervasive notion that we spent years of our life attending lectures, rushing projects and sitting for exams just for a piece of paper in the end.

I know what the paper can lead to. It'll be pretentious to say that it doesn't matter to me. But I still want to believe in learning for the sake of learning. I don't want to keep thinking...I've got to get that degree...I've got to get that degree. If I don't get that degree, I'm a failure.

I want to enjoy the process of education and not get side-tracked by such discriminating perception. I want to attain good grades not because As and honours are badges of pride but for the sake of self-fufillment.

I think most people, especially parents forget that exams are a test of knowledge, not competitive racing or being summoned to court hearing. It's not do or die. We take it too seriously without understanding its purpose. It's about knowing that you know what you are learning. That, is its real significance.

Even as I write this, I'm still trying to stay focused on this perspective. Once awhile when I start feeling the heat, I glance around and I search deep down and I realize that I've been afflicted by the general consensus too. It's hard. Trying to swim your own route when everyone's heading the other direction.

But its not impossible. And its only when I know I'm free of the brainwashing that I feel really strong.

So I was reading today's papers and there was an article written by this Pulitzer winning author John Updike. Another article found in the New York Times magazine written by a Kevin Kelly had incurred his wrath because it gloried the digitalization of all written knowledge.

You already know how much books mean to him judging from that prestigious award's name affixed in front of his name and his message that convincingly refutes Kelly's is that - books can and should never be replaced. There's even a slight mention of the Gutenberg revolution. You should check out the article. It's cool.

I have a deep respect for books as well. Not as complicatingly profound as thinkers and authors. But enough to scribble having a mini-library completed with tall slidding ladders onto my wish-list.

For now, thank God that i still have the opportunity to use fancy markers and highlighters, to compile notes and to fall asleep with an open textbook next to me."

the power of thinking without thinking

"When it comes to the task of understanding our world, I think we pay too much attention to the grand themes and too little to the particulars of those fleeting moments. But what would happen if we took our instincts seriously?

What if we stopped scanning the horizon with our binoculars and began examining our own decision making and behavior through the most powerful of microscopes?

I think that would change the way wars are fought, the kinds of products we see on the shelves, the kind of movies that get made, the way police officers are trained, the way couples are counseled, the way job interviews are conducted, and on and on.

And if we were to combine all of those little changes, we could end up with a different and better world."

- Malcolm Gladwell, blink

drowning

Left an unfinished glass of orange juice on my bedside table last night. This morning, I found a dozen or so ants dead in the residue. I wonder what their last thoughts were -

Oooh..sweet stuff. And alot of it at that! Hmm, I may topple in as I try to reach for it. But I can’t resist - the aroma is simply too intoxicating. I’ll just go for it!

Sometimes, the pull of something is so strong that we get addicted and we just can’t walk away. We immerse ourslves so deeply that we don’t even come up to the surface for air. By the time we realise that things are not what it seems to be, it is often too late to swim to the shore.

And even if, perchance, we manage to extricate ourselves from the sticky mess, somehow we never learn. The next time something “good” comes along, we get drawn right back in, convinced that this time it will be different, and drown ourselves again.

and they all say we're intelligent

We all know that we should treasure the people around us because we will only regret it when they are not with us anymore.

Such a simple concept has been manifested in numerous forms around us - someone we know has experienced it, plus it has formed the storyline of countless movies, tv drama serials, advertisements, fiction books, autobiographies etc.

And we all nod our heads and tell ourselves silently. Never fall into the trap of regretting only when the person is gone.

But somehow, just somehow, we all forget that piece of advice. And we find ourselves in that exact same situation that we were convinced would never happen.

Some of life’s lessons, we just never learn.

im(mortality)

When I was young, death was something that I read in books or see on TV. I don’t understand it, neither do I think too much about it. But as I grew older, and witnessed death personally and regularly, I begin to wonder about mortality.

It is so easy to snuff out a life. A little less care on the roads, a sharp blade, a shower of pills, a bucket of water - in an instant, one can vanish into nothingness.

I’ve always wondered where we end up after we are dead. I cannot fathom the concept of death. Where do we go? Just emptiness? Nothingness? See previous entry here.

I would like to believe in reincarnation but even then, the thought that I existed before this life (as a person, an animal, a-something?) is also beyond comprehension. What happened to that existence before? Is there someone who had known my previous existence, also know me as the person I am today?

Maybe that is why people want to make a mark in their lives - to leave a piece of themselves behind when they pass on. Else, as Kevin Brockmeier say in his book ”The Brief History Of The Dead”, they would only exist in the memories of those who used to know them.

And when those who knew them are no longer around, then the dead would truly disappear, as if they had never existed before.

we just cope

Everyone has problems.

It could be anything - credit card debts that you just can’t seem to pay off, an unreasonable boss that makes you feel like crap each day and yet can’t quit because you need the job, a failed marriage, an intense desire for babies yet the stork is not calling, a sickness that is afflicting your loved one and where chances of recovery are low or zilch.

If something is bothering you, if something is keeping you awake at night and appears in your thoughts first thing when you wake up in the mornings, they are problems.

To some, these are no such things as problems. They can see the silver lining in everything. They are the optimistic ones that have hope that everything can turn out well.

I am not that kind of person. But I know that I just have to cope. We all have to. We all have problems but we just have to cope. Whether there is a solution to our problems or not, we all just have to cope - cope with the problem or sometimes, cope with the consequences of the solution.

We just have to. We got to. There’s no other way to live.

only human

During weekends, when I was young, I would follow my parents to the coffee-shop for breakfast. There I would have my favourite roti prata, and several sips of coffee from my parents’ cups.

Instead of drinking from their cups, they would pour the coffee from the traditional kopitiam green porcelain cups, into the green saucer. And I would blow at the coffee, creating little ripples to cool it before slurping it all down.

Those were the days, when such simple things make you happy. Those were also the days when you feel that your parents are the whole world, that with them around, nothing could or will go wrong. What they said would always be right, and lo behold if you did not listen to them and had to face the consequences of misbehaviour.

Of course, back in those days, when your whole world centres around school and play, what your parents said would always be right - do your homework, if not, your teacher will punish you. Don’t run so fast at the playground, you will fall and hurt yourself. Eat your fruits and vegetables, or else you will have constipation.

But when you are all grown up, when life is not so simple anymore, when the world is not coloured in black and white but varying degrees of gray, you realised that your parents are not almighty.

When age catches up with them and what you see are two elderly individuals, sometimes insecure, not always understanding technology and what is going on around the world, sticking to the old way of doing things because it is the only way they know and feel comfortable with, you know it is time that the roles are reversed - when parent becomes child.

And I wonder how they feel when they know that their children no longer view them as their everything and what they say is no longer taken as the gospel truth. How does it feel to have your children now know that you are not perfect or infallible, and that you are only human too?

these hard times

Morning falls like rain into the city life
There goes another night
Losing my breath in waves
Knowing that every crash is bleeding the hourglass
and taking the strife from all our lives

Everyone keeps talking
They promise you everything
But they don't mean anything

We may loose our focus
There's just too many words
We're never meant to learn
And we don't feel so alive

So goodbye, these days are gone
and we can't keep holding on
When all we need is some relief
Though these hard times
Through these hard times

Move your hands in circles
Keeping me hypnotized
The power behind your eyes
Move around your bedroom cursing the naked sky
You should be here tonight
But you stay alone and cry

deletia

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It stands for everything that has been lost.

wasted sarcasm on the oblivious

I used to be an employer of sarcasm. I used it for much evil. However, there was a change, and somewhere along the line, I was 'tamed'.

It still surfaces though, from time to time. But it's taken on a new tinge. It's become so integrated into my psyche that even when I don't mean it, people are unsure. I guess it's got its advantages, because sometimes people just don't get it.

But the worst is when that effort is wasted on the oblivious, or the really good intentioned.

Then I should learn to employ niceties and gayness in its place perhaps.

enlight

I read a paragraph of words today. It sang of truth and it echoed my unspoken thoughts.

In one of the classic curtains-were-lifted moments, the truth was unveiled to me. You would think that it would then be easy to proceed from there, but you're wrong. It was just so simple, sure, but they couldn't be more complicated at the same time.

And so, we stand on the verge of that something really great. What happens here on is as uncertain as where the wind blows. Time changes all things and no one can be sure of the future.

matchboxtwenty - long day

long day

I have a new source of light in my life.

All the old joys have sort of faded to the background; they're still there, but this new one has sort of taken precedence for now.

I lived for moments previously, and I lived for time spent with people because they're never around for long. I lived for the exhilaration and the suspense, as well as for the entertainment, adrenaline and passion. I even lived for the sense of accomplishment.

Recently, a little fish has swam into my fishbowl, invaded it, and left an indelible mark, which I fear, will be harder to wash away than dried-up bird-droppings.

However, a similar noun - die - will come in soon, and like a bug-eyed goldfish, this one might die too. I only wish there was a longer lifespan to it, or a way that it will survive for a longer time.

Familiar?

matchboxtwenty - all i need

Everywhere someone's getting over.
Everybody cries and sometimes.
You can still lose even if you really try.

Talking about the dream like the dream is over.
Talk like that won't get you nowhere.
Everybody's trusting in the heart.
Like the heart don't lie.

And that's all that I need.
Someone else to cling to.
Someone I can lean on until
I don't need to.

Just stay all through the night.
And in the morning let me down.
Cause that's all that I need, right now.

Everywhere someone's getting over.
Everybody's lied to someone.
People still use other people with a crooked smile.

And all around the world.
There's a sinking feeling.
Out there right now someone's really down on themselves.
And don't know why.

Life ain't no beauty show.
We don't know where tomorrow ends.
And when we're sad.
It's kind of a drag.

That's all that I need.
That's all that I need right now.

the need for exploration

In the same way that your tongue seeks out the space left by a missing tooth, or the way your hands caress different fabrics as they slip through the fingers, my feet crave foreignness. They are desiring that unknown element that comes with venturing into another country and knowing that the earth beneath my feet is something both ancient to the world and yet new to me.

I am driven by that quest for knowledge of hidden textures, other lives and unexplored possibilities. I need to be free to explore and lose myself completely, if but for a short while.I want to be unknown to others and forget who I was or who I am.

I want no agendas and no constraints. I want to slip away in a crowd and be swept along by nothing more than my mood or some fleeting thought or desire.

I crave nothingness and yet I want to experience everything. I want to know how it feels to breathe the air in the Swiss Alps. I want to revisit the wonders of Africa with my own eyes. I want to know what it’s like to take in the view from the Eiffel Tower. I want to reach out and touch the bark of an ancient tree in New Zealand.

These are things that cannot be told and cannot be read, they need to be done for one’s self and savoured as an individual sensory experience.

I want to feel with my fingers pressed against a wall, sense through the ground beneath my feet and imagine with my mind all that has come before. I want to soak in the knowledge that history has passed underneath my hand, beneath my feet or under my gaze.

I want to take this knowledge to heart and be thankful for it. I want to be reminded that at this point in time or at this place many more have come before and looked upon this spot or felt the grit beneath their fingers in much the same way as me.

I want to sense all that is still yet to pass. I want to recognise that time does not wait, that everything moves, everything changes, and nothing remains the same. This cannot be done at a distance.

It is necessary to reach out and place yourself directly in such a moment to remember, because in the end sometimes memories are all that remain.

While my being in a place at a particular time may not be recognised and recorded by all, such visits do go down in one version of history.

They become part of my own personal history. Though these records may never be written they will be with me always and turned to time and time again. (And if you are someone close, you will know that this entry is beyond tourism.)

clarity

It’s funny how we started as irrational individuals initially and now we requires ourselves to be mature and responsible adults in maintaining what we have and striving for what we want for the future.

And seriously, i think it’s just so special that way.

outward manifestation of an inward regression

Is there a selfish reason behind doing everything? Are we inevitably all about 'me'? Are there actually inherently good people with the purest of intention? Or is that something that we're led to believe?

Take your actions today, look at what you did. There is the outright/overt intention, then there is the underlying intention, and there is the hidden agenda. Do we really have 'pure intentions'?

I think perhaps we're all about satisfying our own desires. We do things because we want to, we give in to people because we have to (because going against it would be going against our interests).

Help - is it really a singular one-way effort to assist?

Offer - do we really offer something and not expect anything in return?

Love - unrequited? Love without expectation?

Sometimes, we just have totally negative views of the world.

the rider's perspective

Recent days got me in a pensive mood. I think. I think. and I think about the joys of life from a rider’s perspective.

It’s not the big things that define what life is. There’re too few and far between. They come and are soon gone. Be it a sensitive lover, or a wonderful parent. For me, it’s the little things: like a smile meant just for me, my work rewarded by simple thanks, or just… the perfect ride.

It’s in the quick spurts of power (aka pleasure) through the responsiveness of twisting the gears and getting rewarded by sheer mechanical power: power that you can control in and out of a beautiful bend. The exhilaration of being close to the ground beneath that just rushes by. The quick flick of the eye to reaffirm the speedo is at a respectable point. Feeling one’s body precariously hanging off the growling, road-devouring beast, all the while almost touching the passing asphalt.

It’s not the showing off, for no one but your machine knows what you’ve been up to. It’s not the ego-boost, for everyone feels he’s better than another. No, it’s just the holistic feeling of being in total control on that excruciatingly perfect lean of any long deep corner - anywhere.

By and by, such moments get reduced. They come in and impose odd restrictions and limiters on your machine. They develop new-fangled products to keep you in check. They constantly redefine the imposed system of control.

“Lead a mundane life, be a loyal and obedient servant.” You will be fine/fined if you follow these tenets. Clones: is that why they make creativity an essential module for our poor young? And yet they limit you to walking speeds and expect adventurous, risk-taking entrepreneurs? Perhaps they should reconsider this positively (negative) repressive approach.

Our joys get blacked-out and tossed into the past. What about the irresponsible and the criminal? Why shoot-down the lone wolf? His life is his own, is it not? His is not to run with the pack.

They take away the joys of life, and leave us with nothing. Soon, we’ll not only be told how to be courteous, but also how to start smiling again - for soon dreariness shall set in, and the right to one’s happiness… revoked.

When that day comes, I shall look for a sure means of flight. Cut the strings that bind me and carry on flying to my own. I want to keep my little joys always.

Fight the power. Don’t let yours get taken away.

airports

I love airports. I know it sounds strange, but i love airports. I love the energy they have. It has to do with their architecture - high to the ceilings, light, airy, use of beautiful natural woods together with steel and glass constructions. The architecture of the airport lends to the atmosphere. When it's high to the ceiling and light and bright, it feels like anything is possible. An energetic, happy expectation fills the air.

People are either headed out on a holiday or a business trip that's full of possibility. Or they're arriving home after a trip, happy to be home. So, generally, people in airports exude a positive, expectant energy.

It has also to do with liminality. A favorite topic of mine which i haven't visited. A status i think i would use describe where i am in life at the moment.

An airport is a purely liminal space - on the border between what was and what is yet to come. Everyone is full of the potential for change - to be changed by the sights seen on a holiday, to be changed by the next business deal, to be changed by the new people they encounter and the experiences they will have.

They are on the threshold, in transition. Maybe that's what i love about an airport. Its liminality.

It's lucky i love them, because i'm starting to spend quite a lot of time there.

down

Too many volatile events. Too many lengthy thoughts. Rather hard to configure them into coherent reminiscence. Happiness. Warmth. Gratitude. Spontaneity. Desolation. Unconsciousness.

The heart and the brain smiles at each other...and then they disagree. Conflict and destruction. They resign helplessly.

A mind capable of deep understanding can be very conflicted. A heart born of intense sensitivity can be very fragile. Put them together when one is morose and the other torn, you land in this state of convulsive delirium.

Imagine laughing and appreciating humour and the next moment, your face is buried in a pillow soaked in tears that doesn't seem to dry.

Imagine knowing that you are so fortunate and truly appreciating life, and then not long after, thinking that you do not deserve such blessings and feeling apathetic to such goodness. The cycle repeats after itself.

Exhausting becomes almost too shallow for a word.

fig trees and priorities

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.

One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

the process

It's a slow process, for healing is just that - a process. We have so many issues to work through and come to a peace with: the why's, that horrendous guilt that seems to have a choke hold on so many of us at first, and the many, many unanswered questions.

There seems to be a time that it is all replayed over and over again, like we can somehow make the ending different by reliving it all, by reexamining every little detail. We have a rewind button in our minds, but not in real life, so we contine to come to the same questions with no one to give answers. But in doing so, although we don't know it at the time, we also slowly come to a peace with it by going through this process.

For some, the peace comes in knowing that we will just never know and we have to accept that. For others, pieces will fit together and bring you answers that will suffice.

For one of the rarer periods of my life, I really detest the idea of being idle. Everyday has to be productive in its own way and I'm trying to keep myself preoccupied.

Maybe it is the unconscious way of dealing with the barrage of questions and the fear of sinking into that abyss again. Now that I'm out of it, I don't think I want to be anywhere near that place again because it felt like hell and so, I'm trying...very hard.

In the Sun - Joseph Arthur

wait

For a moment, I feel that I've been swept away by this turbulence.

The seemingly normal but ridiciously contorted world that I originated from. Who has the true rights to decide what is normal and what is not anyway? For all I know, I could be delusional. I'm quite sure I'm in denial.

For the past few days, I've been trying to convince myself. That I have alot of things others don't have and that I should be grateful, which I truly am vis-a-vis many other unfortunate close friends. Scintillating stories which I might convert into words if my mood and time permits. But admist all the transient elation and short outbursts of energy, I feel rather empty.

The root of this hollowness stems from a growing sadness of recent that has gnawed away my soul bit by bit and is now affecting my physique and stamina. And with the fleeting times and my schedule ever wanting, I can't help but feel a little lost. It's a paradox that I feel void and yet, there is this heaviness in the heart. :(

A recent realisation as well...that every single day does bring about its own little teachings about life if you are willing to reflect and ruminate upon them. Most people are too caught up with their hectic routines to bother. If only I could write a book about all these people. People who go by unnoticed in this condescending society but actually lead interesting lives unknown to themselves. They hold onto their own little triumphs with much dignity.

Everyone has their own stories to tell.

Even when their lives are short.

go slower to go faster

Let me quickly take advantage of the interlude and pen down the thoughts between the strokes before i resume my sat business of killing myself.

A matrix moment.

Rush rush rush…driven by the clock. Is anybody else feeling the strain? I'm literally catching my breath right now.

Someone must be - supermarket and road rage didn't emerge on their own.

Perhaps we all feel like that white rabbit in the Wonderland tale. Late…late…late and anyone who gets in our way is a worthy recipient of our frustration and anger? But is faster always better? Do we work within a cultural paradigm that means progress automatically assumes the need for speed - for faster faster faster?

Is anyone smelling roses anymore? (That would be the roses that are grown slowly, in a garden not a greenhouse - so they have a smell.)

Do we stop to look - to think - to appreciate - to consider?

Do we take time to feed the soul, the mind, the heart - as well as the career, the social presence, the bank balance, the expectations that come from……where exactly?

Does anyone remember Sunday as a day of rest ….or pick any day - but one out of seven isn’t asking too much - is it? A day of not being driven by the clock - when we readied ourselves for the week ahead by engaging in social, recreational and fun activities with family and friends? A day of leisurely newspaper reading, of sipping - not gulping the morning coffee, going on a bike ride with no particular destination in mind.

What am I prepared to give up in order to get more from the less? What are the roses I want to smell?

so much to say

I have so much to say, but how to say it is a problem. It all runs through me so quickly and all at once that I’m not sure what to say first and what to not say at all. In a history where all things have been said, what else can you say.

All I know is how I feel. All I know is what I am, and yet sometimes I’m not even sure. Honesty is a dangerous thing. I was told by myself a truth that has been kept from me myself for a long time and now, seemingly, my entire world is coming down around me.

To try and change my ways, I have been watching my every step. And its utter frustration because I’ve tried so hard to change, yet no visible progress has been made.

Normally, if someone had this many problems as me, I’d just tell them to heck it and move on. But I can’t, I can’t say for who I am to take off… because I care. And I care so much that I’m now stuck in what seems to be a lose-lose situation. On one hand, I cut my losses and am still miserable and on the other hand, I stay and face a problem that I can’t find a solution to.

All I know is I need some time to heal. I need time to rebuild myself. And maybe that is the answer, time. Time to normalize and get back to somewhere good. Time to be left alone.

I guess that’s what it always comes down to, choice and chance. We always have to make a choice and the choice is whether to take the chance or not.

And don’t kid yourself, not making a choice is making a choice. And it’s not easy, this is no longer the age of the Hero and the Villain, or the Brave versus the Cowardly. This is an age of grey, where everyone is somewhere in between.

So the only way to play it is by taking that leap of ignorance and hoping you don’t fall that hard.

force of nature

For the past few days, the weather has been wild and changeable. One minute the sun is shining, brightly illuminating my desk, the next the wind is whipping stinging lashes of rain falling from dark, black clouds that appeared swiftly out of nowhere on my window pane.

The weather has reflected my own feelings and moods over the past few days. I am sunny and optimistic one moment, the next spiraling down into the depths of black despair. Someone even asked me one day this week, "What is this weather you've brought?". And so i'm not alone in thinking that i'm the one causing it.

Who is to say that it isn't true? Haven't we all felt human emotions powerful enough to cause atmospheric rifts?

This evening, it is calm and clear - no wind as of yet. There are a few clouds around the fringes of the sky. And that's exactly how i feel.

fishing in the stream of consciousness

I just read an interesting article on new scientific evidence surrounding how our brains make decisions. Apparently our brains actually decide things at least ten seconds before they let us know on a conscious level. Now that's interesting and something that i have suspected all along. But is it just another way of expressing intuition? And what does it mean for free will?

I am interested in issues of intuition and decision-making because at my house, i have a few decisions on my horizon and a few on my plate. They are big ones, ones which affect what i will do and where i will live. It's a luxurious "problem" to have - to have so many choices that you don't really know which one to take. On top of it, it's actually choices between doing one thing i love and another thing i love, between working with people i'd love to work with and working with people i already love working with. As i said, luxury choices.

But in fishing in my stream of consciousness, i wonder exactly how i will come to a decision about this. At the moment, i'm keeping my mind (and my possibilities) as open as possible. But has my mind already decided and it just hasn't let me know as of yet? I guess time will tell.

support

The past week has been pretty significant in some sense. After going through a hazy, sickly and doubts-riddled fortnight, at least I've arrived at some conclusion. The conundrum is momentarily resolved as for now but I'll have to deal with the imminent consequences. Well, at least now the mental torment is not so intense, I get to shift the spotlight to other aspects of my life, particularly people I care about. I got to meet up with a couple of "long-lost" friends and the irony, is that I've been the one long lost.

Well, I guess sometimes I get too caught up in my own problems, it becomes only me myself and I in my own world. Then when I take a step back for a breather, I realize life is not only about yourself, but the people around you. They want to be included in your world and vice versa. It's also during difficult times you get to acknowledge your loved ones and genuine friends you have and see through the colours of those fair weather ones. And I think I'm blessed enough to be surrounded by the former and not have to encounter the hypocrisy of the latter - recently.

It's great to know that besides having to deal with the mundanity and banalities of everyday, especially when you find everything slipping from your fingers, stripped to the bare, there's still intangible aspects such as love, friendship, kinship, compassion to "hold" on to. And you do realize (again) that ultimately it's not the events that make your life happening, it's the people and this post is dedicated to my people out there.

race

I used to run the 1500m and 3000m steeplechase during my school days and the last lap run the track is always the killer. Your lungs are burning, every step is a labour and you’re always afraid of the the guy behind catching up. Meanwhile you can hear the screaming and cheering in the stands but you’re not sure if they are cheering for you or cheering for the guy behind to overtake you. So your heart is pounding at 150 beats a minute and the one thing in the world you’d really like to do is stop right there and then - so tired you can drop any minute.

And this is how it always feels like wherever you reach the last round. It feels exactly the same now. It's the last lap of the race and mentally it feels so draining now. The bounce in the step every morning is nothing but a faint memory now and it gets just a little harder to drag your ass out from bed every morning. I wonder if this feeling ever goes away.

Thankfully, there will be a good break after, a welcomed respite from the daily grind of churning out emails and papers. Not that I am complaining, but I wish there were some mental redbull for the days when you’re practically running on fumes.

The break couldn’t come fast enough.

suckers

One can never have enough of a good thing. We alway want more. And when we can't get what we want, we turn into snivelling ghosts. Like smokers craving for a cigarette. Like junkies craving for another fix.

Even though when we eventually get what we want, it's all good, the craving is never healthy. Losing that control, and letting an external factor decide how you behave can be anything but good. You crave, I crave, we all crave.. question is, do you let it take over? Kudos if you're still in control, pity to you who've lost it. Such suckers we all are.

nonchalance

One of my friends told me recently I'm very nonchalant. In the dictionary, that means "behaving very calmly and seeming not to care and worry about anything." Another told me that i'm dismissive.

Nonchalance has its pros and cons I guess. It's good in the sense like how in the face of problems, you don't fluster and cave in that easily to your emotions. I like that. I think having control over your emotions is very important...so you think with your head rather than feel with your heart, especially for occasions when sensibility is necessary.

I sound like I'm such a person but for people who really know me, they know otherwise. I guess that over the years, I've grown numb. Like once you fight in one too many battles, you get worn and weary.

The vigour, the zest and the innocence of youth - are lost. You don't feel pain when you get stabbed or slashed because you have grown accustomed to it or perhaps, you just don't care anymore. Nonchalance is bad because sometimes it means you are devoid of feelings...lifeless? I wonder if he meant it in this context. Like nothing interests you anymore and it probably take a bomb to re-ignite the flame. Sounds familiar.

Anyway, if it rubs people the wrong way, then perhaps more sensitivity should be injected.

efilsidas

"Life is sad so sadness is something

that shouldn't be avoided or denied"

- Robert Redford

silence

People always like to say, don't keep things bottled inside. Talk it out and you'll feel better, they profess. The amusing thing is that if you don't supply the same amount of information as they do so voluntarily, they think you are shortchanging them and in fact, hiding something. Then they start speculating that you must be hiding shocking conspiracy theories or that you possessed such a kaleidoscopic past, it would have put any famous luminary's to shame.

The issue is, what if there were just no beans to spill? Just dead carcasses, septic and virulent, better left untouched. They are ignorant that somethings are better left unsaid. The monsters once unleashed, wreak havoc and causes irreparable damage. Talking only make matters worse in this case. That's why there is also this saying - that silence is golden.

The true power of company is when you sit in silence with someone doing absolutely nothing and that somehow manages to make you feel better.

crossroads

Crossroads in my life. For some reason, I am compelled to take some action now or risk some regret, which I have no idea what it is, later in life. Perhaps the biological clock has a part to play as I hurtle, rather aimlessly, towards mid-life and its dreaded crisis, which some people allude to.

At this point in my life, I would love to change my job, the way I view the world, and yes, even the way I live my life. But having settled into a cosy routine, with food on table, roof over my head, and worry-less visits to restaurants for meals, there's always the little rational voice in everyone which seeks security, safety and an un-interrupted lifestyle that drowns out any change that threatens the status quo.

Looking at all the uncertainties around me, I am torn between giving up everything familiar and embarking on goals which I deeply feel that will make me a complete person. Would I ever choose the path closest to my heart or once again let the rational head do all the thinking.

The luxury to ponder such issues when one’s stomach is full. Now, that’s my head talking.

the next stage

Things i think in the evening as i wander my way back on a trailing cab. There is a jumble of thoughts in my head.

So many experiences this week. It was a week of return which has changed - both in reality and for me. Things don't stay the same. There is an impermanence in the world. An impermanence to the world. Flowers bloom in a blaze of luscious color, then fade and move to the next stage. and this is as it should be.

I realized this week that i too have moved to the next stage. and it happened in one visit. It happened without my knowing it needed to. There are times in life when we don't really know where we're going until we get there.

Sometimes it takes going back to be able to move on.

the blue bolt

Do you have moments wishing you were more you?

Sans social norms, fears, doubts, and all those evil things that creep up on us through the years. I do.

Nobody important is in, so I can blog in peace. Bliss.

live forever

Maybe I don't really want to know. How your garden grows. I just want to fly. Lately did you ever feel the pain. In the morning rain. As it soaks it to the bone. Maybe I just want to fly. I want to live. I don't want to die. Maybe I just want to breath. Maybe I just don't believe. Maybe you're the same as me. We see things they'll never see. You and I are gonna live forever. Maybe I don't really want to know. How your garden grows. I just want to fly. Lately did you ever feel the pain. In the morning rain. As it soaks it to the bone. Maybe I will never be. All the things that I want to be. But now is not the time to cry. Now's the time to find out why I think you're the same as me. We see things they'll never see. You and I are gonna live forever. We're gonna live forever. Gonna live forever. Live forever. Forever.

reflect

I'm not sure if it’s about the age issue or more of the fear of the unknown, and knowing that the people around you are aging as well. The vulnerability of mortality.

The years have had its share of ups and downs and I can't say that I haven't learnt from life, the suffering, the joy and the kaideloscope of experiences, which have made me the person I am today. In terms of qualifications and achievements, I'm still lagging behind my peers and struggling to fulfill my own expectations. But in terms of personal blessings, I think, look around and I’m quite thankful for what I have.

Still, as much as I have that kind of appreciation for life, there's still something missing/lost which I can't figure out what it is. It’s like even if I were to achieve all the goals that I have overnight, I'm not sure if that would be enough...

either/or

Feel slightly better today, although work is still a bitch.

Still the same old grey feeling, slightly removed from it all, wanting so much to radiate.

the reconstruction of reason

It's harder than I thought. Getting started again.

As I stare at the flickering indicator where words should be spilling out like water and listen to the impatient groan of the ailing driver, thoughts struggle to get out of the immeasurable void. The drilling noise emanating from my notebook shatters the silence.

The years of wear and tear. The toxicity of chemicals. The plunging energy. The ever pursing shadows. The loss of self-assurance. That kind of certainty that grounds you to a firm foundation that can withstand the inevitable tremors.

When pen and paper is met with delight and relief, not twisted nerves, a wrinkled forehead and an incredible vastness of blankness.Whatever loss of inspiration I was experiencing, the abrupt blankout threatened to bring almost everything to a standstill, followed closely by a series of unfortunate events which continue to test my faith. I'm slow in recovery but at least, the issues now are 80% resolved.

Now, the idea is to get started.

a silent happy world

It's very hard for people who think they are smart to accept that the person beside them is smarter, especially when the smart people make it seem as though the not-so-smart are really just blabbering nonsense.

You wind up with antagonism and spite. And then it doesn't matter who the smart one is anymore.

a toast to serenity

There is something wonderful about warm toast late at night. It’s the feeling that you’re doing something against the rules but it’s all OK. I’m not sure maybe it comes from being an adult and being able to get up at any time of the night and make yourself some toast? I know as a child I wouldn’t be able to do that and as a teenager I could care less.

I did this tonight and helped myself to an unhealthy spread of butter, a slab of cheese and a thin layer of sugar. I think had I had a cup of hot chocolate, it would have been pretty close to serenity.

tough being a time traveller

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that time travel will not be available in my lifespan. I do still believe that it is a very strong possibility though. Everything I’ve read on the topic points to the reality of time travel, specifically time travel forwards, backwards is a hell of lot harder. Maybe forwards time travel is a reality in my lifetime? I like the idea that maybe I’m still around in a thousand years from now thanks to accelerated forward time travel?

Cool.

But it is the backwards time traveller that has my pity (to a degree). Assuming that when you go back in time you are able to interact I have to imagine that the individuals selected to do so are extraordinarily well trained and disciplined.

Imagine though the thought process that must go through one’s mind when you know the horror that is to come.

To be talking to someone who you’ll know will die in some unpleasant circumstances, one word given from you could change all of that. But of course you have to be detached, like a reporter, you just don’t get involved.

I think immediately after the event would be the hardest, the helplessness as time and events march on. Some of these events are hard enough to watch now when you couldn’t have done a thing in the first place!

Yeah, this is the kind of stuff I lay awake at night thinking about.

Next time you can’t sleep try to work out how you would go about convincing someone in the past that you’re from the future. Sure you can tell them some large scale events to confirm your knowledge but more often this would require time to prove. Imagine you wake up and it is October 15th 1991. Anyone have an idea what was going on in the world around that time without looking it up?

Makes your brain hurt.

drained dreams

What I like about listening to the radio is the unpredictability of it. It's the best source for new music. 99.5 was playing Vaughn Williams, a composer I normally would not listen to. It's the non-intrusiveness of the radio - it's just on, you don't have to listen too closely - that frees up the music. Someday, I would like to take a long ride down empty roads and just listen to the radio.

I'm still thinking of what I want to do in the future. So far, I have gotten past working as a marine biologist, a professional mtbiker, a philosopher or be part of a kickass band. They’re way off tangent for what remains.

After spending hours in a sunless room, I seriously wonder to myself whether I want to spend years cooped up in a little room listening to people talk and I looked out at the trees and wondered if there was a job where I could go somewhere or just spend my time in nature.

Then I have to be careful. It's too easy to romanticize these jobs. Everything has its share of tedium; you can't be expected to be paid to sit around looking at trees or animals. For now, more nasty rooms which face more concrete please.

the spaces between

Feeling a little under the weather this week, my mind has been catching itself up in all sorts of bizarre thoughts and wandering off on all sorts of strange tangents. Perhaps this is all something to do with looking at the world in a different way through slightly fevered eyes, but suddenly I seem to find myself noticing things that never seemed out of the ordinary before.

Getting in the lift in preparation for work, I was looking down at the ground as I stepped inside. It was here that I noticed the space between the floor I was exiting from and the lift box. Such a strange gap, how have I not noticed it before? What if I dropped something down there? Where would it go? And for that matter what about the whole space beneath my feet? What was down there in the lift shaft?

A few hours later, after tea had worked wonders on my ability to function at work, I found myself thinking further on these spaces between. For instance, what about the space between my skin and my soul? What keeps them separate? What keeps them together? Do they know of each other’s existence?

Then what of that space between my waking life and my dreaming life? Where does my dreaming self travel while I rest with my head on the pillow? Perhaps it is the endless wanderings of my dream self that has been leaving me so sleep deprived during the day. I’m sure she is walking on idyllic plains and beholding such wonders that my eyes could not even imagine exist. Things are no doubt always interesting for my dream self. From time to time she gives me a glimpse of her world, at those times when the space between our two worlds merges for the merest of moments.

Unfortunately the way ahead is blocked with a large cement wall and this is limiting our progress forward…none of us is sure how to proceed. It is at this moment that I leave my dream companion each time. She must become aware of my presence in her world and draws back into her own space away from me. I am always left with a feeling of disappointment as I would like to explore her world further, she seems to reside in such a rich world and experience such different and interesting things. In her world, the surreal is the everyday.

So finally that brings me to the space between where I am in life and where I am heading. I have often pictured the journey of my life as a sandy beach which stretches off to the horizon.

At times the sand has been too hot to walk slowly and exist in the moment, and consequently I’ve passed by my surroundings too quickly.

At other times the sand has been moisture laden, pulling at my feet and holding me in place. At these times I sink down and find it difficult to find the desire to move. Rather than keep my feet moving onwards, I linger too long, listening to the sea air as it whispers on the wings of a slight breeze. I am powerless to resist.

Everything is so comfortable and so easy. Why should I force myself on?

"possibicity" and obscenity

I was reading an article about Venice when I thought of this whole Uniquely Singapore campaign and I felt a keen sense of loss for what might have been. Inexplicable, really, since nothing was actually lost.

Anyway some facts about Venice. Apparently the once-bustling European commercial hub has a population of less than 50,000 these days. Most of the people you see there are tourists. Described as a "city destroyed by its own beauty", Venice today is little more than a museum city, a place where citizens are viewed as actors and their hometown a theme park; they exist mainly for other people's amusement. That's probably a compliment if you're Disneyland but if you're Venice, it's not good.

At this point, I ought to work up some poetic sadness for Venice, but all I could think about are my friend's words: "'Venice looks good on postcards, but in reality it's nothing great and... my god, the canals stink!"

I suppose I could take solace in that Singapore is nothing like Venice. As a matter of fact, we are poised for great things (if you're the cynical sort, at least that's what the government is saying). This drive to be something sparkly, a magnet for talent in this backwater region (so Malaysia sent some guy to space, big deal, it doesn't change a thing about this region), is supposed to bring us to the next level of city-building. If Singapore is one of the playable cities in Sid Meier's "Civilization" or "Sim City", I would say this is the beginning of a Golden Age and our cultural borders are about to expand.

Well, in a computer game, that's how it's supposed to be. But life is not a computer game. Of course, there are times I'm honestly struck by the similarities, but I like to think of life as something more transcendent and sublime. Not so perfectly logical and readily mastered - where's the fun otherwise?

Singapore is truly a work of mechanical genius. If Venice is "destroyed by its own beauty", then Singapore is destroyed by the lack of it. There is nothing in particular that brings to mind the intense pleasure or deep satisfaction that true beauty inspires.

Perhaps it's me; I find little joy in engineered successes, however resounding it's made out to be. In a piece of machinery, I'd be quite impressed, but not in a society made up of human beings. How much spontaneity and authenticity was lost to make the success possible? We may never know.

Increasingly I find that to immerse myself in the Singapore system is to live a reduced existence. Through the years I actually needed to forget certain parts of who I am in order to function in the system. But as I grow older, I discover how precious those forgotten memories are, and now that I remember them, I cannot let them go. To hell with everything else

back

Took another sabbatical from blogging. Was suffering from the cursed writer’s block, so thought it’d be better for me to stop writing for a while instead of boring my readers with my incessant rants and raves.

The past few months went by in a blur. Work kind of took up much of my time then. I suspect it will take up much of my time in the coming months too. Think I will stop here for today. The shroud of the my writer’s block is still fogging up my mind. Hope to update soon.

kant the old man

There is none of that jubilation and excitement that comes with new beginnings because one carries the troubles of the old year into the new and time stretches interminably.

So the beginning does not start with a date, but a constant renewal of the spirit, a vigilance against sloth, because it is so easy to desire change but so hard to catalyze it. I find that even though I dreaded having to make a change, I'm better for it once I did something about it.

I must also try to be less a perfectionist because things must be done incrementally. There, unfortunately, isn't such a thing as a sudden transformation and so I must have patience and tolerate the occasional lapse. It's all those good old traditional values we find in maxims and cliches: perseverance, moderation and so on. It's Kantian I guess: we already know what to do but need to discover it for ourselves.

Weird i decided to criticise abt the old man Kant in ethics class only to realise that his maixms were so general and politically correct and in actual fact, i was criticising what i made out of his maixms. And ppl can go on debating on their perspectives for centuries, in their own situatedness until Alzheimer takes us all. Question is: So what? What's the point?

Nostalgia indeed. Such much folly in the younger days.

shopping mall culture

Malls. Did you know the inventor of the shopping mall envisaged a return to a European style of living and expected people to debate in the atrium where teenagers now feed on Macs and shoppers rest before resuming their frenzied hunts for discounts?

Damn. Raffles City SC's totally missing the point by ridding the space in the middle.

Read on the Economist's Christmas Special.

those lofty ambitions

For the past one year, it's just about doing what gets approved, and making sure things hum along. All my youthful idealism has faded away. It's actually quite distressing, whenever I try to work up some sense of mission but fail miserably in the end. I have lost the desire to create beautiful work in this organisation. Sounds like I'm in some kind of artistic industry - I am not. Furthest thing from it, in fact. It's just a philosophy I subscribe to.

For my own sanity, I have stopped trying to produce beautiful work for this place. And what came out was still acceptable, too. So why was I so obsessed with beautiful work in the first place? Suddenly, my passions and rages felt so unnecessary. I could see why some people were so calm about the state of things. They were realistic.

Now, that was a learned perspective for me. It felt very unnatural, actually. My truest instincts always tend towards the ideal and the foolish. Work should be done to the best of one's ability. Leaders should be men and women of noble characters. Governments should exist to improve the lives of citizens. I lived in a constant state of disbelief at things happening around me. I think for a period of time, I felt very cheated by it all. That was probably what they call disillusionment.

But I'm out of it now. Well, I think I am. I don't think my ideals have changed. I still believe in those lofty things (fortunately, or unfortunately). But I no longer feel so aggrieved. It's still frustrating sometimes, but at least I can laugh about it.

the pursuit of happyness

This is a movie for anyone that has been ‘there’. If you’ve been there you’ll know exactly where I mean. Whether you’ve been to that dark and depressing place at some time of your life because of a lack of money, love, educational standing or career direction, you will appreciate the tale told with this film.

If this is a true story, less the exagerations, there are only 2 words i can describe Chris Gardner: incredible stamina.

A mounting pile of bills, working too hard for too little, and desperately trying to not lose hope. Picking yourself up, dusting yourself off and dealing with the battle scars that appear when life keeps throwing obstacles in your way. While money may not necessarily buy you happiness, it does allow people to take care of primary needs. When shelter, food and clothing are not met, humans suffer. That goes way back to another entry on what problems?

Side learning point 1 - Emotional responses can always be carefully weighted.

Side learning point 2 - Never to judge people from what appearances suggest. We can never really know what is truly going on in their lives (that includes someone at the gathering too.)

What a humbling way to start the new year.

christmas

Christmas can be a strange time of year, bringing to the surface conflicting emotions, heightened expectations, broken promises and long cherished memories. Apart from those overly sweet and often hollow carols which assault our ears in December each year, are there other less conventional songs which feel so much more real?

If only there are songs that deliver all the chaos of Christmas and provide us with an alternative view. Songs that make me feel more in place and less detached from the season. Cos it's meaning (or rather my perception of what it should be) is getting increasingly diluted in my surrondings.

those awkard acquaintances

Jaslyn's wedding. I'm amazed by people who don't know me at all but behave as if they do (very well too), make strange demands of me, then look at me suspiciously when I refuse to oblige.

I learnt from one of those courses that people of my temperament offer a figurative visa to those people I get along with. They are the few who can get past the checkpoint. Then there are others who issue free-for-all travel passes, so anybody can go through and these are the types who make friends easily.

Earlier was a classic case of a Limited Visa person (me) meeting a Free Travel Pass person. But for both types, EQ goes a long way, and I think that was sorely lacking in the other party.

bye benjamin

Looking down at his withered, shrunken body, I knew he was already gone.

His limbs, once strong and full of vigour, were left hanging limply by his side. His complexion, once rich and healthy, had become pale and dehydrated.

Heartbreak is hard to bear, but the earth continues to spin. Life will need to go on till we meet the same fate.

Life is really just phases.

cocoon

It's nice to be cocooned in blankets and pillows with a novel about an exotic place and a cup of tea on a rainy day. All that is needed now is a view to distract myself occasionally from reading and barely inaudible music and finally to fall asleep. Can't remember where I read it, but falling asleep is better than sleeping itself.

freedom to create

I read a special series on innovation in The Economist today and you know what's the most important ingredient you need for creativity?

It's freedom because innovation often challenges conventional wisdom and authority and is highly disruptive, not incremental, which is why the writers predicted that the chance of our biopolis taking off is 50/50 or less. But we do have some edge, in the sense that we have a competitive economic environment, is business-friendly, in particular to foreign investment. However that in itself will suffice. There is no need to lavish money on creating artificial hubs which will most likely go wasted.

So why do we still put up with that lie which is the suggestion scheme? Isn't it blindingly obvious that it is an utter failure (Innovation gurus say that the best firms make use of innovation by recognizing failure quickly), wastes money, time and effort, is poorly monitored for quality (Again gurus say we have to measure the benefits of innovation. Those who are pleased with a little success or think innovation leads automatically to rewards are deluded)?

Most leading business worry about bureaucracy weighing down on their competitiveness by hindering innovation, which leads them to realize that they must increasingly rely on ideas from outside rather than within, that what matters is how you translate that idea into a marketable product, service or process rather than who came up with the idea. Is it too much of a stretch for existing bureaucracies to appreciate such a simple fact?

the moth

Noticed a tiny little moth in my office toilet today.

For whatever reasons, I started to wonder how this tiny little creature entered the building. In order to reach the male toilet, it would first have to pass 3 doors (1 glass, 2 wooden) before reaching the toilet, not forgetting the metal once when riding up on the lift.

So, did it piggyback itself on the shoulder of one of the many faceless office workers who throng through the building each day? Or did it hitch a ride in the darkness of one of the many bags carried by these people?

Is it the only moth in the building?

Will it ever find a mate?

Will someone casually flatten it just because it’s stationary on the wall?

Guess I will never know.

I wonder if these are the questions an alien of higher consciousness would ask if they observe us humans under the microscope. Weird.