true solitude

I could start talking to a tree pretty soon. That is one of many ways to rehearse for a lifetime of solitude I could see, rolled out on a red carpet. I mean, you frown upon the weird guy on the street doing his weird thing. You didn't think it could happen to you, did you?

What it is in a connection? Sometimes strongly forged but at times turns into a house of cards at some point in time; fuzzy at best. The agenda served, money frittered, energy expended. When all else fails we even find it hard to have lunch alone. Arr, all the sentimental creatures on planet earth.

It is and not

There was an overwhelming compulsion to greet the day with an expletive today. Flashing back a couple of days, I'd realised that the fleshes were nonetheless, invariably human. An insidious headache serves to remind me of my vulnerability, and my body responded by felling itself into a long ardous slumber. After two weeks of pounding, I had felt like a used kitchen rag. That being said, I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it does not explain the need to hurl a distasteful word at the break of dawn. Maybe I was jaded, maybe I was rushing for time. But in all chaos, there is clarity. It was clear that I wanted, or rather needed, to extract every derivable morsel of truth. It could have been. It was.

The office lady with the wrong heels. The man with a stack of lottery tickets in his hand; the stack aptly named 'hope'. My colleague who aspires to be an Austrian economist; he sports clothes from Spade and is never thankful for the wonderful girl he has. There is no respite from what many have shown. Not one is without forlorn hope or guilty bones. Obscenely futile at times, we still pursue in the seemingly needless. Even after trials and tribulations, we still do harm unto ourselves and others. The looks on our deathbeds, mostly ones of residual guilt.

time and the entity that is you

I wonder if perhaps one day, I would be estranged from the social aspects of life. Well, because I have been ranting on like an old man who has lost his cane. A while ago I offered to wheel an elderly to his destination, knowing full well I would deny any if I were to be put into the same situation. True enough, he declined. To take away the freedom of physical and mental mobility is to deny the world of an entity that is you. I need a reason to exist.

Just portraying the above involves the concept of Time. Well Time is again, a precious commodity and lately the books I've been flipping through in the bookstores are those with references to Time. I did not buy the books much as I would like to, because they looked like they've been salvaged from a tsunami(can't anybody get a book in mint condition around here?). Maybe I've adopted a heightened awareness of Time, or it might something else I could not quite put a finger to. It must be the latter, because the feeling is generally inexplicable. A chance encounter with a long lost friend in town sure brings about reminiscence; you could think nothing more of it or you could think about the harmony of choices that effected the encounter. We are like fabric woven in the medium, Time.

going slow

This doesn't do remarkably well with parents, me being not academically inclined to do well. Nevertheless, although it might not mean the world, my results affect how it looks at me. They are indicators of how the governing institute assesses you. And here we go again, a couple of days to d-day.

These days, everybody's getting poetic. Judging from the amount of self-made quotes available on social networking sites, we should probably have an information overhaul because some of them reflect zero intellect really. Of course, I am being cheeky/mean and should not question the freedom of speech because it is a paradox(I am writing now). But it should serve as a reminder that we are not hardwired to process large amounts of information(mostly redundant in today's context), and multitasking ain't always a favorable trait as efficiency is compromised. Slow is sometimes, beautiful.

Tunneling in

Most of the time it is a colossal task to stay focused on track. I'd realized because one night I went to sleep ever determined to lead an eventful life, and woke up the next morning feeling all blue and dreary. The pretty reminder of how dire situations can play out, was further exacerbated by the morning busload of sneezing and coughing individuals. The entire entity being one big gob of goo and could very well be the bubonic plague in one's worst nightmare.

I admire how one could stay true to their targets and most importantly, their individual selves. I guess you could look at Liam(Oasis) or Chris Martin(Coldplay); their vocals are ordinary but their bands are nothing short of phenomenal. Take the song "Wonderwall"; it is like the nation anthem of the UK. They stay true to their music, which couldn't really be said of the mainstream artistes hell bent on producing garbage nowadays.

flying away

If I've got the cash, I would very well take a year off after graduating and go travel. Maybe to down under or the land of beer. Not everybody's that privileged though. Nevertheless, it would prove to be a good source of detachment, away from this sunny island where everybody lives, walks and eats fast.

You've gotta realize that, everyone is hiding behind something at some point of time. It tires me, and it makes me think that I could never ever forge a connection in the foreseeable future. All I see now is what A does to B and what B does unto C. It's just about as pointless as going to a club where half the guys are out to get drunk while the other half's trying to get laid. And we live in a community where sexual innuendos and profanities are commonplace. The things we do to people, really.

You'd know why I would want to fly off, don't you?

You mean tea doesn't soothes you?

We always tend to find comfort in little things. Too often we dismiss something that is seemingly irrelevant to us, and too often it is also the shining beacon of another. When we break away we find little things we were oblivious to. I like my hair short, I adore my coffee and tea, I enjoy listening to the sultry voice above the melodious tunes belted out by the radio. And of course, the evening breeze at the bus stop, the morning sun on my face.

I've met the devil's advocate a while back, and the sum of nuances might very well be greater than the misgivings. I think I'm breaking away now, from the exacerbation of the farce.