As I strive more and more just to be, I realise that I've gradually lost touch with what I can do...Today I sang at the Delirious? concert and was surprised to hear my own voice. It didn't sound like my own, and it was breathy and high-pitched and weak. My singing voice has atrophied, like the muscles of a paralytic.
And I don't have the intense-planning-and-study drive anymore, even though my IB exam is not far away (month and a half) - probably because I'm already looking on to the next step, university, and if I get into American unis it doesn't matter what your final grade is as long as you pass. And all the necessary coursework I've completed already.
But...
In exchange, I stretched, I laughed, I loved passionately and smiled like an idiot. Struck up conversations with previously-intimidating people and found them so normal, so nice. Threw my planner to one side and went with the flow. Watched movies crammed four people to a bed. Spoke what was really on my mind. Waddled in the muddy waters of uncertainty. About myself, about people. But mostly about myself, because if your glasses are foggy the whole world looks misty to you, doesn't it?
Anyway, am sleepy, so will have to leave this post to another day...tata!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Dark Star
It's quite lonesome out here, scattered far out in the galaxy without my companion Erithrea, the bright mininova. My light is dimming. It twinkles less and less, if you could call a huge fearsome glowing mass burning itself up through centuries, twinkling.
Things were alright for the first millenia or so. Stardom was looking good - prospects of life on a few planets were promising and some nitrogen-breathing primitive life forms were already thriving on Planet Tuvr. Erithrea and I laughed about reaching the pinnacle of superStardom, the legendary Sun, who had 2-legged creatures building temples and sacrificing some of their own kind for Him. I always thought that was stupid. Not like that egomaniac needed any more convincing that He was the greatest star of all time.
About 700 centuries in, Planet Greqq atmosphere's was created, and life sprung up in abundance. The sheer diversity - and their fragility - was gastaking. I basked in the cool feeling of having something dependent on my rays for their survival, and I nurtured that Planet like it was my own moon.
There is something you need to understand, mortal. We stars do not think or behave as you do. You, you get tired, need rest. We do not know either tiredness or rest. We are as we are, immutable; not weak, but never having known weakness, not strong either. We are not fickle, and we can keep doing the same task - warming the galaxy - for as long as our core is solid and keeps us burning. We do not deny it is a selfish task that happens to bring some good to others. We do not need morals to justify our existence. Indeed, the creation of morals by living creatures whose very existence is a mere accident is almost amusing. I would find it so if I had a sense of humour. And yet, through observing minute behaviorisms even a star can learn the ways of lifeforms.
Now, now it is all gone. Tuvr is ashes and black hole vortex; Greqq expired in ice a thousand years ago but only after a long, long age of war and chaos that descended upon them like doomed meteors. I felt it was best to let go, turn my cold side and withhold my warmth to them that they may meet their end. I still believe it was best.
Erithrea didn't think so. She whirled and shot sparks, told me I could not forsake my duty, do as these lifers may. That it was their choice, and who could judge them, much less a star that felt no pain? That was just it though. They had no choice anymore. The dark sucked them in, and they were only grappling with nightmares and had lost all sense of reality.
So I did it, I broke my own code and that of my kin to save them - by destroying them all equally. I know I did right - I heard sighs of relief from Greqq just before it extinguished. Its people, though - their screams still torment me. I often wonder, how could I hear them in space? It does not matter. Imagination is just as strong.
I was expelled for being a dark star. Now I lay here, in the furthest outposts of space, where not even black holes exist and there is nothing, not even darkness, nor light, nor love. And here I will stay till I burn out, shrivel. That is my punishment for meddling in the affairs of life. But I had a choice and I made it, and I will burn to my last inch knowing why.
Things were alright for the first millenia or so. Stardom was looking good - prospects of life on a few planets were promising and some nitrogen-breathing primitive life forms were already thriving on Planet Tuvr. Erithrea and I laughed about reaching the pinnacle of superStardom, the legendary Sun, who had 2-legged creatures building temples and sacrificing some of their own kind for Him. I always thought that was stupid. Not like that egomaniac needed any more convincing that He was the greatest star of all time.
About 700 centuries in, Planet Greqq atmosphere's was created, and life sprung up in abundance. The sheer diversity - and their fragility - was gastaking. I basked in the cool feeling of having something dependent on my rays for their survival, and I nurtured that Planet like it was my own moon.
There is something you need to understand, mortal. We stars do not think or behave as you do. You, you get tired, need rest. We do not know either tiredness or rest. We are as we are, immutable; not weak, but never having known weakness, not strong either. We are not fickle, and we can keep doing the same task - warming the galaxy - for as long as our core is solid and keeps us burning. We do not deny it is a selfish task that happens to bring some good to others. We do not need morals to justify our existence. Indeed, the creation of morals by living creatures whose very existence is a mere accident is almost amusing. I would find it so if I had a sense of humour. And yet, through observing minute behaviorisms even a star can learn the ways of lifeforms.
Now, now it is all gone. Tuvr is ashes and black hole vortex; Greqq expired in ice a thousand years ago but only after a long, long age of war and chaos that descended upon them like doomed meteors. I felt it was best to let go, turn my cold side and withhold my warmth to them that they may meet their end. I still believe it was best.
Erithrea didn't think so. She whirled and shot sparks, told me I could not forsake my duty, do as these lifers may. That it was their choice, and who could judge them, much less a star that felt no pain? That was just it though. They had no choice anymore. The dark sucked them in, and they were only grappling with nightmares and had lost all sense of reality.
So I did it, I broke my own code and that of my kin to save them - by destroying them all equally. I know I did right - I heard sighs of relief from Greqq just before it extinguished. Its people, though - their screams still torment me. I often wonder, how could I hear them in space? It does not matter. Imagination is just as strong.
I was expelled for being a dark star. Now I lay here, in the furthest outposts of space, where not even black holes exist and there is nothing, not even darkness, nor light, nor love. And here I will stay till I burn out, shrivel. That is my punishment for meddling in the affairs of life. But I had a choice and I made it, and I will burn to my last inch knowing why.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Spaces
Okay since it is 2.30 in the morning and I cannot go out for a massive shopping spree (don't have the funds for it anyway, nor the appropriately-sized megamall), I shall blog to relieve this emotional diarrhea instead.
Here it goes.
The Spaces Between
There are always spaces between one unit of something and another. Atoms and molecules all the way up to stars and galaxies and solar systems. The space between the best dancers that holds them together and keeps them in perfect, mirrored motion. The space between lovers that asserts its will so strongly that it pulls them apart, leaving each one jarred and jagged.
We fight against this space; mash our bodies, intertwine our minds and emotions, knit our souls together so that there can be wholeness at last. We see the space as unnecessary, an evil force that keeps us from a higher purpose, keeps us alone and frail. Apart. Not a part.
Mother, father, friend, brother, postman, teacher, char koay teow seller. What binds us together beyond a brief moment of eye contact, a transfer of knowledge, physical touch, a joke, even love? Nothing. That is all. That is all that we can share, that we can reach into another's life.
We are, essentially, alone. The spaces have defeated us since we were born. In being an individual, we have lost that community that would otherwise be part of us. Like bees.
The spaces do not always do harm. The repelling forces work to our good as well, keeping us sane, keeping us from leeching into one another. Bringing variety into the world as we each go separate ways, mental and emotional paths that others can emulate but not follow.
Oh, but how lonely it is sometimes, and how much I wish there would be a vacuum to suck up all these spaces. The space in your smile, the averted eyes, the pause before you address me. I wish it could all be sucked up in one magical moment, and things return to what I imagine in my deluded memory it once was.
But that's just wishful thinking, and the spaces float inexorably above and around, twinkling in the still air.
Here it goes.
The Spaces Between
There are always spaces between one unit of something and another. Atoms and molecules all the way up to stars and galaxies and solar systems. The space between the best dancers that holds them together and keeps them in perfect, mirrored motion. The space between lovers that asserts its will so strongly that it pulls them apart, leaving each one jarred and jagged.
We fight against this space; mash our bodies, intertwine our minds and emotions, knit our souls together so that there can be wholeness at last. We see the space as unnecessary, an evil force that keeps us from a higher purpose, keeps us alone and frail. Apart. Not a part.
Mother, father, friend, brother, postman, teacher, char koay teow seller. What binds us together beyond a brief moment of eye contact, a transfer of knowledge, physical touch, a joke, even love? Nothing. That is all. That is all that we can share, that we can reach into another's life.
We are, essentially, alone. The spaces have defeated us since we were born. In being an individual, we have lost that community that would otherwise be part of us. Like bees.
The spaces do not always do harm. The repelling forces work to our good as well, keeping us sane, keeping us from leeching into one another. Bringing variety into the world as we each go separate ways, mental and emotional paths that others can emulate but not follow.
Oh, but how lonely it is sometimes, and how much I wish there would be a vacuum to suck up all these spaces. The space in your smile, the averted eyes, the pause before you address me. I wish it could all be sucked up in one magical moment, and things return to what I imagine in my deluded memory it once was.
But that's just wishful thinking, and the spaces float inexorably above and around, twinkling in the still air.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Going Home
I will be home in *count them!* 5 days.
My family. Friends. Pet. Car. Dog. Home Computer. Shower. Old clothes. Tattered leather couch. Patio. Kitchen. I will see them, touch them again.
And all for too short a time.
Because this time it's going to be different. I'm going home with someone very close to me, but a stranger to everyone back home. How is he going to adjust? How am I going to please both sides and keep things perfect?
I shouldn't worry, should I? Things have a way of sorting themselves out. It's just quite a step; more than just visiting a friend's family for 2 hours - its two whole weeks. Of idiosyncrasies, a different accent, mindset, expectations and everything. To expose everything you love for its own sake to someone you love, knowing full well they may reject it - its a scary prospect.
Other than that, I'm really looking forward to it, as I'm expecting we'll have a great time:) Well we won't exactly be free and completely holiday-ing as there are still uni things to complete, but if planned well that shouldn't cause too much stress. Time to be organised Evelyn again!
Happy holidays everyone!
My family. Friends. Pet. Car. Dog. Home Computer. Shower. Old clothes. Tattered leather couch. Patio. Kitchen. I will see them, touch them again.
And all for too short a time.
Because this time it's going to be different. I'm going home with someone very close to me, but a stranger to everyone back home. How is he going to adjust? How am I going to please both sides and keep things perfect?
I shouldn't worry, should I? Things have a way of sorting themselves out. It's just quite a step; more than just visiting a friend's family for 2 hours - its two whole weeks. Of idiosyncrasies, a different accent, mindset, expectations and everything. To expose everything you love for its own sake to someone you love, knowing full well they may reject it - its a scary prospect.
Other than that, I'm really looking forward to it, as I'm expecting we'll have a great time:) Well we won't exactly be free and completely holiday-ing as there are still uni things to complete, but if planned well that shouldn't cause too much stress. Time to be organised Evelyn again!
Happy holidays everyone!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Kinds of Darkness
There are so many thoughts in my head once again as I sit down here to write and I feel privileged - privileged to be the bearer of words; chalices that contain meaning that can be used for enlightening, teaching, joking, bonding, loving, twisting, hurting - or just locked safely away in one's sternum. (Yes, the ribs, keep it near your ribs, your heart needs more than words to feed it.)
I read what I wrote again. That was a long sentence. I have this tendency to write "pretzel" sentences - declarations so long that you forget at the end what was said at the beginning. Isn't that how our minds work, though? Sometimes we forget, at the end of the journey, what we started out for?
Today, as I was walking down to my room (a dorm room located kind-of underground, 2 floors below ground level but which makes sense, as my campus is built on hilly ground) I did not see the light at the middle of each flight of stairs where there is an unbricked view of the trees and the sea just beyond my school. We live by a bay, Tolo Bay. I know those trees and the shape of the sea instinctively now, though I am no artist, and while it does not sparkle like the Mediterranean, it has its beauty. I know that though the light is not there and all there is to it now is darkness and mystery, it is not an unfamiliar and menacing darkness - I know exactly what it hides, and love the variations of this natural scene.
Tomorrow, I will see the first glimpse of sunlight hit the water, if I wake up that early. And when I go to classes, the dense greenery encroaching the sand will wave in the gentle breeze.
And why did I think of this? Well, I've been thinking about light and darkness recently - not brooding - but in snatches, sometimes indirectly - like this.
In class, we've been doing Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. (Which explains it all, really.) Whatever reservations I have of him as a person (I have to keep reminding myself that he was stuck in the paradigms of the early 20th century, and all white men had some racist prejudices, as we do today), his writing does accomplish something. He makes you see "the horror! The horror!" and brings that darkness (the ever present "mysterious, brooding, inscrutable" darkness) smack into your eyes. Ultimately, he seems to suggest, there is no escape from the darkness from either outside or inside yourself. The world is a dark and unfriendly place, and even London, the "greatest town on earth", is described as leading into the heart of darkness.
Outside the classroom, I've lit candles twice in the last three weeks. Candles are for tragedy, you know that? They symbolise our opposition to a world so dark that we can't even see each other's faces, each other's joys and sorrows and rejoice that at least we are not alone in feeling.
The tragedies I've touched, with icy fingers setting hard wax alight, were different: one emotionally detached, one a blow to the guts. One vast and universal, proclaimed and fought against by world leaders and millions all over the world with stories harsher than I've ever heard. One private and unevitable, met only with tears of tough boys and distraught students and teachers. I did not cry on AIDS Day, though millions have succumbed to this uncurable disease that devastates a large part of our world. I did cry for Martin, our former Mathematics teacher who after retiring to South Africa to reunite with his wife as he had longed to for so many years, had passed away without even his sister having a clue until three weeks later. He used to throw calculators at his students, and offer them cookies. He was the caricature of a fat man - a natural joker and a gambler, an avid sports fan, a drinker, and so much fun to be around. That was the Martin I knew, but many people knew him more and admired his strength, that he had suffered the death of his only child and still continued to be the person he was.
And there has been all other sorts of darkness and light too, pervading my life like wayang kulit as it does to everyone. University applications and all that business are a mix of both; while it is exciting planning and having high hopes for my future, the possibility of rejection and no-way-forward is too scary to be considered. Loving someone comes with its risks as well - contemplating a bond that seems to have an expiry date that you don't venture to guess. But it's obvious enough. 5 months, only a short period of certainty. After that, who can tell?
I think my tone seems to have gotten darker and darker throughout this entry, but that isn't my intention. Perhaps what I really want to get across is that there are many kinds of darkness existing in the world; some as natural as night and day, some that will always remain a mystery as long as we live in a linear, one-directional time dimension, and some that must be fought for with every inch of our lives. It is up to each to decide what is which.
I read what I wrote again. That was a long sentence. I have this tendency to write "pretzel" sentences - declarations so long that you forget at the end what was said at the beginning. Isn't that how our minds work, though? Sometimes we forget, at the end of the journey, what we started out for?
Today, as I was walking down to my room (a dorm room located kind-of underground, 2 floors below ground level but which makes sense, as my campus is built on hilly ground) I did not see the light at the middle of each flight of stairs where there is an unbricked view of the trees and the sea just beyond my school. We live by a bay, Tolo Bay. I know those trees and the shape of the sea instinctively now, though I am no artist, and while it does not sparkle like the Mediterranean, it has its beauty. I know that though the light is not there and all there is to it now is darkness and mystery, it is not an unfamiliar and menacing darkness - I know exactly what it hides, and love the variations of this natural scene.
Tomorrow, I will see the first glimpse of sunlight hit the water, if I wake up that early. And when I go to classes, the dense greenery encroaching the sand will wave in the gentle breeze.
And why did I think of this? Well, I've been thinking about light and darkness recently - not brooding - but in snatches, sometimes indirectly - like this.
In class, we've been doing Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. (Which explains it all, really.) Whatever reservations I have of him as a person (I have to keep reminding myself that he was stuck in the paradigms of the early 20th century, and all white men had some racist prejudices, as we do today), his writing does accomplish something. He makes you see "the horror! The horror!" and brings that darkness (the ever present "mysterious, brooding, inscrutable" darkness) smack into your eyes. Ultimately, he seems to suggest, there is no escape from the darkness from either outside or inside yourself. The world is a dark and unfriendly place, and even London, the "greatest town on earth", is described as leading into the heart of darkness.
Outside the classroom, I've lit candles twice in the last three weeks. Candles are for tragedy, you know that? They symbolise our opposition to a world so dark that we can't even see each other's faces, each other's joys and sorrows and rejoice that at least we are not alone in feeling.
The tragedies I've touched, with icy fingers setting hard wax alight, were different: one emotionally detached, one a blow to the guts. One vast and universal, proclaimed and fought against by world leaders and millions all over the world with stories harsher than I've ever heard. One private and unevitable, met only with tears of tough boys and distraught students and teachers. I did not cry on AIDS Day, though millions have succumbed to this uncurable disease that devastates a large part of our world. I did cry for Martin, our former Mathematics teacher who after retiring to South Africa to reunite with his wife as he had longed to for so many years, had passed away without even his sister having a clue until three weeks later. He used to throw calculators at his students, and offer them cookies. He was the caricature of a fat man - a natural joker and a gambler, an avid sports fan, a drinker, and so much fun to be around. That was the Martin I knew, but many people knew him more and admired his strength, that he had suffered the death of his only child and still continued to be the person he was.
And there has been all other sorts of darkness and light too, pervading my life like wayang kulit as it does to everyone. University applications and all that business are a mix of both; while it is exciting planning and having high hopes for my future, the possibility of rejection and no-way-forward is too scary to be considered. Loving someone comes with its risks as well - contemplating a bond that seems to have an expiry date that you don't venture to guess. But it's obvious enough. 5 months, only a short period of certainty. After that, who can tell?
I think my tone seems to have gotten darker and darker throughout this entry, but that isn't my intention. Perhaps what I really want to get across is that there are many kinds of darkness existing in the world; some as natural as night and day, some that will always remain a mystery as long as we live in a linear, one-directional time dimension, and some that must be fought for with every inch of our lives. It is up to each to decide what is which.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Sleepiness!
"I'm dreaming my life away..."
that's how a song by an oldies band called "Dream, dream" goes. Sounds ludicrous, but I'm sleeping my life away. And guess what? I want to. When I sleep, there seems to be no worries and no anxiety, just a desire for more...
I've been told over and over by people that I love, both my family and friends, that I seriously need to cut down on sleep. That it's not good for me. That I will be able to achieve more if I didn't sleep the way I did (with reckless abandon, mostly).
...
After Christian Fellowship tonight, I'm not sleepy anymore and thus can't quite get into the "writing about sleepiness" mood. I admire writers so much. How are they able to discipline themselves to sit down and write something of value, something that people will actually read? Even now, deep in procrastination, I find it hard to churn out words that make sense.
I'll write another day, and hopefully with a better entry. Perhaps I should change to writing about my daily life. Boring as it may be, at least there's always something to say.
that's how a song by an oldies band called "Dream, dream" goes. Sounds ludicrous, but I'm sleeping my life away. And guess what? I want to. When I sleep, there seems to be no worries and no anxiety, just a desire for more...
I've been told over and over by people that I love, both my family and friends, that I seriously need to cut down on sleep. That it's not good for me. That I will be able to achieve more if I didn't sleep the way I did (with reckless abandon, mostly).
...
After Christian Fellowship tonight, I'm not sleepy anymore and thus can't quite get into the "writing about sleepiness" mood. I admire writers so much. How are they able to discipline themselves to sit down and write something of value, something that people will actually read? Even now, deep in procrastination, I find it hard to churn out words that make sense.
I'll write another day, and hopefully with a better entry. Perhaps I should change to writing about my daily life. Boring as it may be, at least there's always something to say.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Long awaited update
Most patient and faithful readers,
I do apologise for going so long without an update. Life intrudes so rudely, disrupting my thoughts and stealing my time so that my well-intentioned plans of blog-updating are cast away on the sea of an endless 'things to do' list. (I am not kidding - in addition to the multiple meetings/classes/activities that I am involved in everyday, I have a to-do list on my computer that never seems to end.)
But enough of that. Really, the last few months (and the last month that I haven't updated you about in particular) have swallowed me whole. I have been through so many mood swings and teetered on the edge of despair so many times that its not even funny. There is much weariness of the body of course, as I certainly do not get as much sleep or rest as I would like (about 9 hours a day would do wonders) but also a certain soul fatigue - is this all there is to the UWC experience? Is that what I am going to remember about my two years here? Will I ever be happy and carefree again?
Melodrama does play a large role in it, but I think its because here we are so isolated from the 'real world' though we know a lot about it collectively. I hardly keep up with the news happening back home and know very little about what's happening around the world. Unless I'm told about something, I don't know it. Thus every small incidence is blown up to a huge event. I find it hard to regain perspective nowadays. There are so many things I want to do with my life now that I really don't have time for all of them. I guess the only way to tell is to give up what is less important, the temporal pleasures and focus on what is really important.
I would love to continue but I'm falling asleep. Till next time.
I do apologise for going so long without an update. Life intrudes so rudely, disrupting my thoughts and stealing my time so that my well-intentioned plans of blog-updating are cast away on the sea of an endless 'things to do' list. (I am not kidding - in addition to the multiple meetings/classes/activities that I am involved in everyday, I have a to-do list on my computer that never seems to end.)
But enough of that. Really, the last few months (and the last month that I haven't updated you about in particular) have swallowed me whole. I have been through so many mood swings and teetered on the edge of despair so many times that its not even funny. There is much weariness of the body of course, as I certainly do not get as much sleep or rest as I would like (about 9 hours a day would do wonders) but also a certain soul fatigue - is this all there is to the UWC experience? Is that what I am going to remember about my two years here? Will I ever be happy and carefree again?
Melodrama does play a large role in it, but I think its because here we are so isolated from the 'real world' though we know a lot about it collectively. I hardly keep up with the news happening back home and know very little about what's happening around the world. Unless I'm told about something, I don't know it. Thus every small incidence is blown up to a huge event. I find it hard to regain perspective nowadays. There are so many things I want to do with my life now that I really don't have time for all of them. I guess the only way to tell is to give up what is less important, the temporal pleasures and focus on what is really important.
I would love to continue but I'm falling asleep. Till next time.
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