| its me! |
[04 Aug 2006|05:55pm] |
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mood |
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 calm |
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well, i was lost for quite a while in the jungle of Mindanao then i travel to manila just to be detained at the manila zoo with my common friends from NTU and other badminton enthusiasts... a lot of things had happen for the last 2 years..doing nothing and doing things to make something new in this crazy world. been there and done that as they say but im not that contented and i wanna do more. explore every possibilities in this life, cultivating the knowledge and vision i prepared since time immemorial. i met a lot of new friends and just one enemy, myself, and that is the ability to say "No". Now, im currently in a corporate world while having a business of my own which my mum take advantage of. :D,
To all of my friends that still stays in Sg, May u learn a lot of new things about life and the possibility of getting a high raise paying job. il be there soon, when im out of stocks. :D..
To all my friends in Mindanao, wherein their lives evolves around racquets and shuttlecocks, continue smashing and making those high clear lobs its not the technical way of winning but its like our walk in life...when its hot, smash! when your down, lob!
just wanna write anything as i may not have that time to write again. :D
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| 2005 |
[16 Mar 2005|01:15am] |
2004... a year full of adventure stuffs..drinking session in the grad hall...wakeboarding in batam...naked under the heat of the sun in sentosa (was i naked????)...party all night, even in the night owl bus...the only thing left are memories that's full of surprises...btw, where's my mango rhum????:D
2005... a great year to start a new and better life....for all those sleepy heads..time to wake up and share your responsibilities in this world...another effect of strong ice....pay your income tax, afterwards call me for another round of beer....drink but never ever screw up your life...amen!!!
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| My Dream |
[26 Aug 2004|04:39am] |
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mood |
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 relaxed |
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I feel refreshingly primeval at the moment, hunched in front of the blue glow of my computer monitor, eating grapefruit and fresh cherries in a welcome darkness. The citrus is cold, wet, and pulpy in my fingertips, making me imagine bloodied shreds of mammoth relished in the glittering slag of the ice age; the cherries I bite in half with a quick slide along my incisors, excising the pit like a stone heart, crunching juices over the tongue sweet as blood spilled to Mayan deities. This repast, though vegetarian, is no less potent in its violent symbolism than the consumption of flesh.
There is so much to see in everything that it becomes overwhelming at times-- the star in a halved apple, maps of river basins in soap bubbles, the fluid arc of shadows over time...
I had this dream, last night. I was walking through a sparse hillside, when suddenly the sun started flashing in time with my own heartbeat; the world began to feel different in a way that defied description. Everything looked the same with a glance, but if I stopped to observe any one thing in particular, it would become a book, filled with the total presence, history, identity, and narratives of that object. A blade of grass became a small green leather-backed book, the oak above my head dense plates of burnished carvings. I could know, and experience, everything-- that was the goal I started, flipping through the histories of a certain rock or a tuft of moss, knowing that eventually I could find a stream and, in reflection, read the unabridged story of my own being. It became frantic, a pulsing nightmare of rushed activity. And then a voice rang out, incomparably loud, emanating out of every particle in creation the way I imagine the voice of god, if god as an articulate deity does in fact exist. I could only understand the words in their echo off a distant mountain: "Stop to read too long, and you will drown."
This morning, I opened my eyes to thunder.
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| Gmik! |
[25 Aug 2004|03:43pm] |
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Anyone???
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| Decisions or Deceptions |
[17 Aug 2004|03:21pm] |
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mood |
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 thankful |
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"To recognize untruth as a condition of life-- that certainly means resisting accustomed value feelings in a dangerous way; and a philosophy that risks this would by that token alone place itself beyond good and evil."
--Nietzche
"There has hardly ever been a critical rule, principle, or maxim which has not been for wise men a helpful guide but for fools a will-o'-the-wisp..."
--I. A. Richards
And, thinking of these quotes, I looked into the mirror and asked myself which category I fall under. And the answer is, I don't fucking know. Because the more I stretch my mind around the blockades of ingrained culture and attempt to look in unfiltered upon truth and untruth, right and wrong, the more ambivalence I find within myself.
The other day, I woke up around noon and decided emphatically that there really is no distinction between right or wrong, because both are ultimately self-serving: a rapist rapes because of the pleasure he or she gains through sexual violence, or in more pathological cases because of a need (conscious or unconscious) to revist an experience trauma back upon the perpetrator in an effigy of the flesh. A mother throws herself in front of a bus to protect her child because she covets the child above her own life; some might mistakenly lable this as nobility or the elemental sentimentality named Love (in all the parameters so dutifully defined by the pulse of the Judeo-Christian mindset), but ultimately the desire to protect a child is just as selfish as the desire to murder because they originate from a choice inherent within the Observed. If a mother chooses to sacrifice her life for her child, then this instance is obviously preferrable to the alternative for any number of reasons (returned sense of love, sense of duty, an unconscious desire for matyrdom, etc.), and preferences--choices--are always born from the self, in the interest of the self.
All actions originate from choice--free will, to capitalize upon the Biblical sentiment--and all choices are made by weighing the circumstance against the possible outcomes and bending the will towards an inevitable preference. The illusion of Evil, and of Good, is a religious tool used to polarize factions for the enforcement of dogmatic laws. Point: unless manifested as the divine will of a reigning Deity, good and evil have no existence outside the illusion of a religious mindset.
I can make this argument, and agree that it seems sound, but part of me resists with a pronounced violence. Is this the stress of ingrained culture, a shadow-work of subconscious guilt being raised through my early memories of beleif in the Christian God? You could certainly make that claim, but I am personally loathe to do so.
All lines rapidly converge into one while playing this type of devil's advocate, so for now I find it necessary to feel the cogs behind the machinery, and trust that there is something else.
As of now, I am in stasis, but I really have no idea where any of us are headed--physically or metaphysically. The Zoroastrian principle reigns, and the coin remains two-faced within three dimensions. But for how long?
Am i doing the right decisions in my life? For me, there is always a reason for everything and I thank my friends for always there thru good times and bad times in this wonderful journey of my life...May God bless us always!!!
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| Life is a river |
[08 Aug 2004|09:45am] |
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mood |
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 giddy |
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Life is a river.
We're all debris--stone and sticks and dented beer cans--these lost little objects ripped along a current swollen by convergence, bashed open along the flint teeth of the river.
There's a purpose, of course, like most things; we're shaped along the course, smoothed along the edges, striking out sparks of protest and pain. We get through it because the currents give us no choice.
Some of us take a hard knock, another, and end up split open and seperated, our pieces shooting away through sand and fish and the clear cold water, spread over the bottom of the riverbed. Some of us stay down forever, wearing away into nothing, every bit of fire and teeth rounded away to some blank, smooth, stupid angles. Pitted, scarred, and scratched away.
Some of us get it together, patch up, rebuild, curl layer after layer of skins and duct tape around, around, an endless circle in the pursuit of staying alive. Nothing will ever break us again except our own ultimate rigidity.
The sun will rise, some time soon, and as I sit here sagging tired but unable to sleep, sucking at the caffeinated tits of my sleek little coffee goddess...
I wonder where my stone is cast.
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| Insomnia |
[28 Jul 2004|01:21pm] |
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 sleepy |
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It's almost 2 a.m this morning and im still working, damn it!!!! I was up till 4am working on files that is due tomorrow but hellyah, i did it anyway. Anyone have a spare tab of dex they'd be willing to part with?
I'm seeing a pattern, here -- work a little during the afternoon, go off at night, work work work through the nether hours, rest (read: sleep) between the hours of three and four am. Catch up on sleep during weekends, somewhere between the drinks and the dallying and the preparations for another week of procrastination.
Frighteningly, this schedule seems perfectly in synch with my own circadian rhythm--I've been refreshed, constructive, and on the ball all week.
Well, this attitude of mine was inherited during the panicking days of my dissertation, infect my grad school experience, and irrevocably ruin my fallback chances at a normal life? Probably.
But then, with results this effective, the arguments of a normal sleep-schedule spread on the wind like a cremated relative.
---"O Insomnia, thou art exalted; raise thy fetters through the creaking dawn."---
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| Things Change |
[27 Jul 2004|03:16pm] |
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mood |
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thankful |
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Sigh!!!. Apparently, sleeping with the window open fills my head with Manga visions and postmodernist dreams.
Looking back on last year I think a lot of the events changed me and helped me grow. That or just because I was changing anyway. Well whatever the reason for these changes they happened in 2003 and early part of 2004.
I got closer to a lot of people and I learned quite a bit about their lives and the crap they've gone through and deal with everyday. I see that the world isn't all cute puppies and roses- as much as I'd like for it to be - and that bad shit is going to happen. But good things will too. That I have to open up and let other people get to know me; let them help me. I also understand its okay to tell people something is wrong and I don't have to be strong for everyone else all the time.
The things that happened and all those people cutting themselves was the biggest and most confusing mess of 2003. I was worried and freaked out and just felt that nothing could fix it. Nothing would be the same. But it did get better on the earlier stage of 2004. We went through it together and once we all got help we are going better.
I also found some of the greatest people I think I will ever know, like sands, ars, cams, jd, libs, q, amabelle, grace, fang and others... People I love and that love me back. People that I find strength in. They are always there for me, listen when I have a problem, and they are just some of the most incredible people I know. A lot of these loved ones helped me find a voice. I feel that they helped me be more outspoken and to take risks every once and a while. I also saw things test these relationships and some how my friends and I pulled through.
All that is great but the biggest lesson I learned in the year 2003 was to let things change. To accept the fact nothing will be the same forever. Just know when to fight change and to let it happen.
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| No such thing... |
[25 Jul 2004|02:23pm] |
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 cranky |
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A result of excessive alcohol intake...
There is no such thing as honesty; we're all busy creating discourses, or working within them, perceptions stacked onto perceptions interpreted by perceptions that we've gleaned from contact with other formats of discourse. The "truth" is, after all, only a societally empowered fragment of a given modality.
Zero and one are interchangable, their only distinction being a temporary imbalance in which one is viewed as ascendant, the other as subordinate.
Take this how you will.
There are oceans of complexity exploding everywhere you look: strings of numbers, hidden designs, shifting poems rippling through a river of diverse languages, paintings and sculptures translated over every particle of "reality" (a concept which is, in the final analysis, the most repressive of current broadly disseminated discourses).
Everything is interchangable, there are no borders between the mind and the world and the soul and the body. Good and evil, the good and the pleasureable, left and right, top and bottom.
Question: Where does this end?
Answer: With me.
That is the only possible solution.
------" You only have to do a very few things right in your life as long as you don't do too many things wrong."-----
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| Time has a velocity? |
[25 Jul 2004|01:43am] |
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mood |
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rushed |
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It rings true to me, but in a metaphoric sense rather than a literal one. As life is a series of perceptions, I feel it is best to discuss the potential, the theoretical, rather than the "real," which always feels to me as though the person voicing the word is actively substituting it for "truth" yet resolutely holding on to the implication of the former over the latter.
So time has momentum, a particular abstract we've dreamed into the physical world...
Our lives block up like children's books--we learn. Our lives begin to unfold like rambling novels, masterpieces of feeling and metaphor--we live. The pace quickens. Focus fades. Velocity gains. We become cheap pulp page-turners, flying distractions, thoughtless antics trying to kill death and boredom: we slow, and speed up time's perception to gloss that fact.
I've never wanted to be a page-turner.
I've never liked page-turners. I want to escape this.
The art wants freedom: the words want to leave the page. They want to bleed, run, crash like water.
-----" It's not good to be so good."-----
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| The Book |
[24 Jul 2004|11:58pm] |
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mood |
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impressed |
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Finishing a good book is like standing on asphalt and watching a car drift away from you on the roadways; it is filled with people you love, and it is going in an opposite direction.
You can never reclaim it, because the book you re-read is not the book you first read, just as the friends you greet after absent spaces are not the friends you said goodbye to however long ago it might have been. Every second is changing us all. There is no going back.
Think of your favorite book.
Next time you read it, whatever it is, those words will carry more baggage; they will bear their old, hidden scars, mirroring your new ones. Comparisons will be made; you will feel haunted, and enchanted, and if you are anything like me you will sometimes feel as though you should die with the book, instead of carrying on in its absence like a ghost until you remember how to pretend that you are part of a somewhat "normal" life.
But the faces of the characters you've lost will find you when you least expect it, steaming in the mirror, leaping out of a rain puddle:
They want you to remember them. They want the power you can give them: they want to live, if only for the few scant hours of a rereading. They are, in the end, tired of bouncing around the subconscious minds of readers like radiowaves bled so thin by time that no instrumentation can perceive them. Reading a book is essentially raising up a dead world.
Thanks for the book (By the river piedra i sat down and wept by Paolo Coelho), cinefreak.
I need to go think now.
------ "Love doesnt need to be discussed, it has its own voice and speaks for itself." ------
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