Posts in category "Thoughts"

Never Too Busy For You

I was final­ly able to fin­ish the page, and anoth­er one for my cousin. I think he needs one more than I do. It feels like a nev­er end­ing stream of projects, always this or that, that I’m work­ing on. I sent in my appli­ca­tion for Big Brothers today. Just anoth­er project to add to the list. If only I was as good at fin­ish­ing projects as I was good at start­ing them. It always seems like I’m con­stant­ly busy, yet always bored. I nev­er have time for this or that, yet some­times I just sit at desk, star­ing blankly at my flick­er­ing screen, won­der­ing what I should do. Perhaps it’s just a sign that I’m get­ting old­er. Another day, anoth­er dol­lar, anoth­er irre­place­able chunk of infi­nite­ly pass­ing life­time. I think I just need some more time to relax, and just relax. One time, I was in a cafe­te­ria, when I saw a girl, sit­ting by her­self at a table. She was del­i­cate­ly tak­ing tiny bites of a cher­ry toma­to, and was just sit­ting there, look­ing out the win­dow. Not read­ing, not talk­ing with a friend, not doing any­thing, while she ate. She seemed to be able to just relax, and calm her­self with all the com­mo­tion going on around her. I was extreme­ly attract­ed to her con­fi­dence, and wished that I could be like her, that I could have the abil­i­ty to just sit at a table by myself and just eat. Perhaps it will just take some more time.

Apparently, I’m nev­er too busy for me.

Certain Uncertainty

I was sort­ing through my e‑mail today, try­ing to clean up my inbox, when I stum­bled along a stash that threw me off guard. I did­n’t think that they would affect me in any way, but they did. I did­n’t even read them; the titles just threw me.

Without these titles, these scant few words, I’m fine, and I under­stand the way things are, and the way things have worked out. Everything is log­i­cal to me, and my mind func­tions as nor­mal. But when I see these words, my mind floods with mem­o­ries, thoughts, emo­tions. I get a glimpse of what could have been.

And then I real­ize that it’s just a sliv­er of a cross-sec­tion that takes almost noth­ing of the whole sit­u­a­tion into account. Or do I? Otherwise, I would be able to stop think­ing about it, and I could just let it rest.

And yet I can’t. The good thing is that it’s not an attempt at con­vinc­ing myself of what I would like to believe. I can be pret­ty sure about this, one of the few things in a world where I might be dream­ing.

Many times it’s not know­ing that I’m right that counts, it’s the oth­er per­son know­ing that they’re wrong.

I wish I was­n’t like this at all. But I am. There has been only one time that I did­n’t feel like I need­ed anoth­er par­ty to know that I was right. And it was because the truth was so obvi­ous­ly on my side, that argu­ing about it would have been triv­ial.

Writing about this has helped. I real­ize that any­thing, pic­tures; text; or just thoughts; can bring up ideas unpro­voked. The ideas may be good or bad, but they are one’s own. The under­stand­ing that they are just super­fi­cial ideas is the most impor­tant part. It’s com­ing to terms with these ideas that sets us free.

I’m pret­ty sure.

Pavlov's Dogs

If one thinks about what one knows or what one feels, one should prob­a­bly come to an under­stand­ing of why one feels that way. I mean, aside from the pos­si­ble implant­i­ng of tastes, or things that you like because of influ­ences beyond your abil­i­ty to remem­ber.

An exam­ple: if one enjoys lis­ten­ing to met­al, then there should be a real­iza­tion that it might be because of the way heavy gui­tar riffs and scream­ing have a way of help­ing one deal with ones shit­ty, shit­ty life. And if ones life improves, one may not need that genre of music any­more. Of course, one may still enjoy it for what­ev­er rea­son.

Another case. If one is hit by a car, with life-threat­en­ing injuries, I’m sure that one would be less than thrilled to cross the street the day one gets out of the hos­pi­tal, let alone dri­ve home.

The two cas­es are dif­fer­ent inso­faras the lat­ter can be a life-alter­ing expe­ri­ence, where­as the for­mer is not.

And yet peo­ple, with­out hav­ing life-alter­ing expe­ri­ences, feel and act with­out ques­tion­ing why they are feel­ing or act­ing in a cer­tain way.

Pure fuck­ing sequaci­ty

I can nev­er under­stand how so many peo­ple can just act with­out think­ing, with­out under­stand­ing things, with­out suf­fi­cient knowl­edge of the sit­u­a­tion.

I’m sure I could make a poster of a Chinese man, exag­ger­at­ing all the stereo­typ­i­cal parts of his body, as a piece of art, a com­ment in itself of how per­verse peo­ple think. Would peo­ple ques­tion why I made it the way I did? Would peo­ple try and under­stand why I made the poster in the first place, before deem­ing me racist, and demand­ing that I destroy it? The answer, sad­ly, would be no. They would only feel that because it por­trays a Chinese per­son in a stereo­typ­i­cal man­ner, it is wrong. They would nev­er even ques­tion why it is wrong.

Perhaps the gov­ern­ment is just too good in doing what they do. Sure, they’ve done a good job at elim­i­nat­ing racism, but at the same time, they’ve cre­at­ed anti-racism racism. Now, hir­ing minori­ties is a neces­si­ty, even if the minor­i­ty hap­pens to not be as good at the job as some­one else.

But who can blame them? They’re just try­ing to con­trol mass­es of idiots, who can’t think for them­selves.

I wish peo­ple would actu­al­ly think, before they made a deci­sion, before they act­ed. If one does­n’t like some­one, one should ques­tion the rea­son. Don’t just act on it. One may real­ize that one was wrong in the end. If one thinks that some­one is imma­ture, one should think about it. Perhaps even look at it from a dif­fer­ent view. If one does­n’t like some­thing because of an inci­dent in the past, one should look at it in the new con­text of the present. Not just act­ing on what one has been told, or what one has felt for so long.

Pavlov should have used humans. He would­n’t even need­ed to have trained them.

God, peo­ple piss me off.

What To Expect?

Though the page has­n’t been fin­ished yet, I feel the need to write. What about, I’m not quite sure yet. Things have been chang­ing so much, there has been so lit­tle stag­nan­cy around me, that it will take me quite a while to under­stand what is going on. Another…six months let’s say?

And these thoughts roam in my head, this and that, com­ing back and forth like a mass of dense liq­uid dropped in anoth­er mass of denser liq­uid. I don’t know what I’m see­ing. I don’t know what I’m feel­ing.

I’ve been wait­ing quite a while to do this; I want­ed to get some­thing down the first minute I want­ed to make a page again. The whole time, thoughts just kept com­ing, things that I’d like to write, express, be under­stood. I did­n’t think that I’d know where to start. And I don’t.

But what becomes this need to be heard, to be com­pre­hend­ed, though by a spec­tral audi­ence? Why do I keep turn­ing to this medi­um, though the con­ve­nience is more lim­it­ed than ink and parch­ment?

Perhaps it’s the draw of the machine, the beau­ty of a cus­tom inter­face, the click­ety-clack of the key­board. Or per­haps I’m just weak, and I’m just wait­ing for a chance to be heard. I’d say both cas­es are like­ly, and not mutu­al­ly exclu­sive.

So what can I say? What can I write? Only that I don’t know what to say, or what to write. After all, what bet­ter way to start again? It feels like I’m mov­ing towards the cen­tre of my being, trav­el­ling as the poet through the infer­no, but with­out a guide to the next bol­gia.

I wish I knew.