Friday, May 05, 2006
Something is pulling me...
I feel the gravity
Of it all...
Stole the lines from Sakamoto Maaya's Gravity. Having it on repeat now. These are one of two lines in the song that really seizes my imagination and grips my heart in this strange way I can't comprehend.
The other one is this:
Am I going home?
Will I hear someone?
Singing solace to this silence...
I took a test on Tickle quizzes and they said my personality was very dog-like. Thanks lah. What does that imply? Loyalty? Devotion? What?
I'm loyal to the people who are worth it, at least in my mind. Devoted? I suppose. Grace did mention that the female half of the population is far more single-minded in their obsessions than the male half will ever be. I guess my devotion to BoA, for 3 years now in fact, has been pretty constant.
One of few constants in this transient life. Heh.
Parent-Teacher meeting later. I approach it with mingled dread and something else? What is it? Detachment? Like its not even happening. Or is it resignation? I can't avoid it. Might as well take it on the chin and go down like a soldier.
Senshi honor. Senshi translates to soldier, but can also be taken to mean 'warrior'. I'm a warrior, a fighter to the last. A cowardly warrior who abandoned his post and was shot for cowardice.
I think I'm being needlessly dramatic here, but if not here, where else? There's no room for that in reality. Only here in this virtual world can I do something as ludicrous as this.
I feel like I'm walking down a gangplank, but while my mind is dreading the inevitablity of it all, strangely there is a part of my soul that says "It'll be fine. You'll be fine. You'll live...somehow."
Story of my life there. Many times I thought the day of reckoning had come, that I wouldn't make it out in one piece, but somehow I'd always made it through alive. Bruised, sometimes battered, and always colder somehow, but alive. Gloriously, wondrously alive.
Even as I add more and more short stories to that story blog of mine, I'm beginning to see how apt the title I had given it was. It was no more than a passing whim that I had given it that title in the beginning, but now I saw the significance. Deeply, truly so.
Broken shards. In this not so long journey of my life, I had weathered many storms, one not by choice, the others created by my own hand. It feels as if I've lost many things, and gained many things along the way. C'est la vie. That's life, alright.
A splintered image, I called myself somewhere in this blog. So it is. Deeply Jekyll and Hyde, I wrote in my journal. Perhaps no more than a pile of broken shards, which I'm slowly but certainly picking them up and placing them in that other blog.
I can't find all of myself, not on my own. I remember telling Grace that friends help us keep our memories, help us remember what we cannot, and in return, we do the same for them. Because of the strange circumstance surrounding the end of my primary school days, I have lost contact and/or abandoned all my childhood friends. Thus I barely remember a thing from those days, save for precious fragments that I held dear to myself. And which I tapped upon in writing the short story Human.
Talking to Grace yesterday, I noted that I could not remember what I did for other people. As in, really helped them, made a positive, or at least memorable impact in their lives. On the contrary, I could remember many things that others have done for me, unless I chose to forget. Which I have done to a certain section of my memories.
There's this huge blank in my memories. Several huge blanks actually. Nature dictates the first, our early years as a baby out of the womb. Those memories fade with time, simply because our childlike minds are not developed enough to keep a firm grip on them. My earliest coherent memory came when I was about 4 years old, reading a book while comfortably nestled in an armchair. Haha.
Then there's this enormous gap in my primary school years, a selective chasm, I should probably add. I remember scattered things, an image here, a gesture there. A warm hug, a faint smile. Laughter, tears, pain and fear. Disappointment, my first failure. Scoring only 70+ marks for a test! I was so ashamed that day I recall, despite the strong front I put up, acting all nonchalant even when inside I was reeling with shock, horror, and shame. I had let overconfidence get to me, and all I wanted to do was to dig a hole and bury myself in it. The star pupil did NOT get anything below 90. At all. NEVER.
Looking back now, I realise that I should have known. What was to come, my instinctive reaction. To hide, to mask the hurt and pain. I would not allow others the satisfaction to see that the failure rankled. I would act as if it didn't matter. When I showed weakness, it was selective, or unless I really couldn't hold it in anymore. Even as a child, not even 10 years of age. Should have known, but then, hindsight is always perfect, isn't it?
Many things, yet so much else forgotten. I can't remember much of primary school. Secondary school was a lot clearer, both the first and second halves. Obviously, the second half is clearer, being that it was later than the first.
I should stop remembering the past. It has nothing for me there. I realise I'm echoing PGSM Mars. Haha.
Anyway, moving on to the present time. This is silly. I've nothing to be afraid about. Fear has no use...except to warn you of danger. The important thing is to keep control over your fear, not to let it overwhelm you. Something that I have failed to do on many occasions. Ah well.
Life has no second chances. So far I've been lucky, but looking back, it's hard not to shake my head at the sheer stupidity of my wasted chances. Oh well, we all get those moments.
So long then. I'll report back later at night (if possible) about what happened. That's providing my dad doesn't:
1) kill me
2) trash my com
3) trash my internet connection
4) trash me
5) all of the above...and then some.
*shrug* Can't say I haven't thought about it. Well, if I die, that's just too bad. Heh.
Later then! If there's a later.
]
I feel the gravity
Of it all...
Stole the lines from Sakamoto Maaya's Gravity. Having it on repeat now. These are one of two lines in the song that really seizes my imagination and grips my heart in this strange way I can't comprehend.
The other one is this:
Am I going home?
Will I hear someone?
Singing solace to this silence...
I took a test on Tickle quizzes and they said my personality was very dog-like. Thanks lah. What does that imply? Loyalty? Devotion? What?
I'm loyal to the people who are worth it, at least in my mind. Devoted? I suppose. Grace did mention that the female half of the population is far more single-minded in their obsessions than the male half will ever be. I guess my devotion to BoA, for 3 years now in fact, has been pretty constant.
One of few constants in this transient life. Heh.
Parent-Teacher meeting later. I approach it with mingled dread and something else? What is it? Detachment? Like its not even happening. Or is it resignation? I can't avoid it. Might as well take it on the chin and go down like a soldier.
Senshi honor. Senshi translates to soldier, but can also be taken to mean 'warrior'. I'm a warrior, a fighter to the last. A cowardly warrior who abandoned his post and was shot for cowardice.
I think I'm being needlessly dramatic here, but if not here, where else? There's no room for that in reality. Only here in this virtual world can I do something as ludicrous as this.
I feel like I'm walking down a gangplank, but while my mind is dreading the inevitablity of it all, strangely there is a part of my soul that says "It'll be fine. You'll be fine. You'll live...somehow."
Story of my life there. Many times I thought the day of reckoning had come, that I wouldn't make it out in one piece, but somehow I'd always made it through alive. Bruised, sometimes battered, and always colder somehow, but alive. Gloriously, wondrously alive.
Even as I add more and more short stories to that story blog of mine, I'm beginning to see how apt the title I had given it was. It was no more than a passing whim that I had given it that title in the beginning, but now I saw the significance. Deeply, truly so.
Broken shards. In this not so long journey of my life, I had weathered many storms, one not by choice, the others created by my own hand. It feels as if I've lost many things, and gained many things along the way. C'est la vie. That's life, alright.
A splintered image, I called myself somewhere in this blog. So it is. Deeply Jekyll and Hyde, I wrote in my journal. Perhaps no more than a pile of broken shards, which I'm slowly but certainly picking them up and placing them in that other blog.
I can't find all of myself, not on my own. I remember telling Grace that friends help us keep our memories, help us remember what we cannot, and in return, we do the same for them. Because of the strange circumstance surrounding the end of my primary school days, I have lost contact and/or abandoned all my childhood friends. Thus I barely remember a thing from those days, save for precious fragments that I held dear to myself. And which I tapped upon in writing the short story Human.
Talking to Grace yesterday, I noted that I could not remember what I did for other people. As in, really helped them, made a positive, or at least memorable impact in their lives. On the contrary, I could remember many things that others have done for me, unless I chose to forget. Which I have done to a certain section of my memories.
There's this huge blank in my memories. Several huge blanks actually. Nature dictates the first, our early years as a baby out of the womb. Those memories fade with time, simply because our childlike minds are not developed enough to keep a firm grip on them. My earliest coherent memory came when I was about 4 years old, reading a book while comfortably nestled in an armchair. Haha.
Then there's this enormous gap in my primary school years, a selective chasm, I should probably add. I remember scattered things, an image here, a gesture there. A warm hug, a faint smile. Laughter, tears, pain and fear. Disappointment, my first failure. Scoring only 70+ marks for a test! I was so ashamed that day I recall, despite the strong front I put up, acting all nonchalant even when inside I was reeling with shock, horror, and shame. I had let overconfidence get to me, and all I wanted to do was to dig a hole and bury myself in it. The star pupil did NOT get anything below 90. At all. NEVER.
Looking back now, I realise that I should have known. What was to come, my instinctive reaction. To hide, to mask the hurt and pain. I would not allow others the satisfaction to see that the failure rankled. I would act as if it didn't matter. When I showed weakness, it was selective, or unless I really couldn't hold it in anymore. Even as a child, not even 10 years of age. Should have known, but then, hindsight is always perfect, isn't it?
Many things, yet so much else forgotten. I can't remember much of primary school. Secondary school was a lot clearer, both the first and second halves. Obviously, the second half is clearer, being that it was later than the first.
I should stop remembering the past. It has nothing for me there. I realise I'm echoing PGSM Mars. Haha.
Anyway, moving on to the present time. This is silly. I've nothing to be afraid about. Fear has no use...except to warn you of danger. The important thing is to keep control over your fear, not to let it overwhelm you. Something that I have failed to do on many occasions. Ah well.
Life has no second chances. So far I've been lucky, but looking back, it's hard not to shake my head at the sheer stupidity of my wasted chances. Oh well, we all get those moments.
So long then. I'll report back later at night (if possible) about what happened. That's providing my dad doesn't:
1) kill me
2) trash my com
3) trash my internet connection
4) trash me
5) all of the above...and then some.
*shrug* Can't say I haven't thought about it. Well, if I die, that's just too bad. Heh.
Later then! If there's a later.
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