Makes Me Think

Sep 5th, 2009 9:29:00pm

When reuniting with someone you haven’t seen in years, there is always one thing [for us teens anyways] you can be sure to expect: the exclamations of “Look how much you’ve grown!” or “Last time I saw you, you were this high!” or possibly “My, how the years pass!” You smile and you nod and you laugh politely at any jokes, in the meantime thinking that apart from a few grey hairs, a few more laugh-lines, and maybe a slight loss/gain in weight, they look the same.

I can’t help but wonder whether when they see us kids, all grown up and not the kind to sit on laps anymore, they are reminded of how much older they’ve become as well. Are we symbols of the fact that their generation is thinning out, and soon it’ll be our turn to venture into the world? Or perhaps we are reminders of their own youth, when things were so much easier for them? Do they reflect on how much time has passed between our last meeting, and see the signs on our faces?

After all for us, adults are constant. They may vary slightly from our memory, which is to be expected, but still, in essence, the same. We however, almost never bear the same features as they remember. Perhaps the only thing to remain intact and untouched by change is our eyes. Even then, contacts or glasses could have altered that as well. However, for adults, we are change. We are those who stand to replace them when our time comes and theirs ends. We are those who can make a difference where they could not. Discoveries and achievements await us. We are the new, the different.

So maybe adults don’t see us as signs of their age after all. Maybe they see us as the catalysts of change in the unseen future. We don’t know what’s going to happen, and neither do they, but the one thing we both know is it’s going to make a difference to all: the older generation, and us, the new. We decide our future, just as they chose theirs. And just as they altered the world, so shall we. For better, or for worse, who knows? The constant here is change, and the impact it has on all our lives. Perhaps they see it in us, after those months and years apart.

Biting Your Tongue

Sep 26th, 2009 11:22:00pm

In my last column I spoke of silence. The sweetness of it; its benefits and its rarity. This column too is about silence, but one that is nothing like what I have just described. It is not sweet. It is not beneficial. And, unfortunately, it is one of the most common things in the world.

A wise and amazing person once said, “Hearts are often broken by words left unspoken.” Another such person started a blog in which she wrote all the things she’s never said to the people in her life. Why? Because they were never said out-loud, and they have to be let out somehow, in some way. Hence the blog; hence the quote.

There are times when the only thing to do is keep your mouth quite firmly shut- just grin and get through it. Then, there are times when things just have to be spoken out loud, even if it’ll just make it worse, for your own sanity. We don’t do that. Not all of us, at any rate. We keep things bottled up, or just say it in our heads while either imagining throttling the living daylights out of the person involved (in the case of those who got on your bad side) or imagining holding them in your arms and never letting go (need I even say I mean your loved ones?). Words that are left unspoken are like acid on your tongue- bitter, burning, yearning to be released from your lips. It amazes me the amount of will-power it takes to hold them back. Why do we? Why can’t we just say what we want to? What we think? What we feel?

I look around, sometimes. At people passing by. At my family. At random strangers on the street or in the mall. And I wonder, “What are they not saying? What are they going through, right now, in this moment? What are they thinking? And why can’t they just come out with it?” Now, I am being completely hypocritical. I am the first to admit that when it comes to “making with the words”, I am not exactly what you’d call expressive. I really do taste acid sometimes, and it makes me think about all the other people who do. People like me, who go day after day not speaking up, speaking out. Speaking loud, speaking proud. There are such people, yes. People who are not afraid to divulge what’s on their mind without shame. I am not referring to those who have no tact whatsoever, but those who know the right time for the right words. For people who don’t hold back unless they realise they might needlessly hurt someone. I admire them. I look up to them. I’m sure everyone who’s like me has. Yet I keep silent.

And so do my fellow sufferers.

We live in an oppressed world. There is no such thing as “freedom of speech”. Some things are not permitted to talked about out loud. Whether this unspoken ban is in one’s home, in one’s school or workplace or even in one’s very own government, there will always be that little weight pressing down on you: “You can’t say this. You can’t. You’re not allowed. It’s not appropriate. They won’t like it. Keep quiet. Keep quiet. SHUT UP!” Everyone’s heard this voice in their thoughts. Some people ignore it, and some people submit and begrudgingly taste that bitterness. Swallow it down. Move on. Not. You might swallow it down alright, but there’s no moving on from those things you didn’t say. They fester in you, and as the quote goes, “Hearts are often broken..”

Guess what, my readers? Someone needs to defend the rights of us people to say what we think. Tact is important, yes, but keeping silent all the time isn’t healthy. It isn’t right. Relationships are torn apart. Some never even begin. Innocent people are killed. Men and women are sent to needless war. Yes, sometimes action is the only way. But find out why. Ask questions. Speak out. Speak proud. Say something someone might not like, if it needs to be said. Let your feelings out. Let it out. Stop biting your tongue and speak. Scream. Shout it out.

I truly hope I live to see the day people don’t taste acid on their tongues anymore.

I hope I become one of them.

Golden Silence

Sep 18th, 2009 5:36:00am

We have the Stone Age, the Middle Ages, the Bronze Age, and so on and so forth. This age is, though I am probably wrong, considered the Technological Age. Personally, I think it should be referred to as the Age of Noise.

We live in a time where there is always some sound or the other playing in the background. Whether it’s the tap-tap-tapping of one’s keyboard or the hum of the air conditioner, the rushing of cars driving by outside or music blasting inside, there’s always something. I believe very few people nowadays know what real, proper silence is. After all, there are few places in the world nowadays where there is such a silence; one so penetrating, the only things you can hear are your breathing and the steady beating of your heart. However, in my opinion we need that kind of quietude sometimes. We are so surrounded by clamour that our thoughts are drowned out, or more accurately, repressed, distracted with the noise of this and that. What would it be like, not having so much buzzing in our ears?

I had the opportunity to have this question answered slightly less than a week ago, and it was in fact the inspiration for this column. Life got in the way, hence the lateness, but I digress. As I was saying, last week we were faced with a power outage. I was asleep at the time, but upon hearing the sudden “zing” of the electricity disappearing into nothingness I was startled into wakefulness. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. No CD playing, no humming of the air conditioner, and none of that hidden noise associated with electricity running through the walls of our building. It was like all the energy had been sucked out, leaving only silence.

At first, this newfound hush was oppressing, pushing itself against my unaccustomed ears. But then, as I started getting used to it, I rather liked it. It was this lovely feeling of calm that washed over me. Sounds that were normally nothing compared to the other noise we had going on were amplified ten times, making me realise just how loud they were. The legs of my loose jeans brushing against each other as I walked, my footsteps on the tiles, these were all things I would not have thought anything of in usual circumstances, but was forced to pay attention to. It was like my hearing had zoned in on whatever sound it could find. It made me realise just how much noise is in our lives.

When the power came back on, I was both disappointed and relieved; after all, four hours without air conditioning in the middle of a blistering hot afternoon is not exactly comfortable. I did, however, miss the silence. The contrast was almost staggering. Its memory was quite fresh in my mind, and I found I could think clearly the entire day. Amazing what a little bit of peace can do, isn’t it?

So, next time you think it’s just too quiet, avoid turning on the TV or turning up the music. Instead, listen.

Hope Floats

Sep 12th, 2009 3:19:00pm

Expectations are strange things. They are those ideas you have formed in your head about what a certain someone or something or someplace might be like, before having seen the real thing. I call them strange because our assumptions are usually nothing compared to reality, and yet we constantly make them despite how many times we have been either pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised.

Case in point. A relative of mine, one whom I have not seen in more than a decade, came to visit last night. Now, I am not one of many words – not in person, at any rate – and couple that with the awkwardness one feels after ten odd years apart, you may have rightly mistaken me for a mute. It was apparent I was not what he expected. I do believe he thought I would still be the same chatterbox I used to be, and that we would have many a glorious conversation talking about this or that as of old. Sadly not the case, as guilty as that made me, and his notions of renewing the close relationship we once had were dashed to pieces.

So why do we continue to suppose, presume and conjecture? Why do we continue to hope things will turn out the way we’ve imagined them to in our minds? After all, an expectation is a form of hope. So why do we do it? We are let down time and time again, with occasional reward, but still we hope.

The way I see it, it’s basically because we are only human. We need something to look forward to, something to keep our spirits alive and afloat when the rest of the world keeps pulling them down. When you have lost hope, you have lost any will to keep fighting, no matter what battle it is. It is that light at the end of the tunnel that everyone of us, however you may deny it, keep moving towards. It’s what keeps us going. Even the most cynical of people dare to do it sometimes. They’ll deny it when you ask, I promise you, but they do. It can’t be helped. It’s a part of all of us, this thing, our little whisperer that says maybe this time things won’t be so bad; this time things’ll turn out okay.

So when we make those assumptions, have those fantasies and raise our expectations, it’s because we hope that sometime soon, we won’t be disappointed, regardless of how many times we have been before.

Depths of Despair

Sep 11th, 2009 2:41:00am

You know what I find truly interesting about us humans? Our ability to feel so awful about ourselves at any given moment. Everyone has felt it at one point or another: that sinking sensation that is not in your stomach, nor your heart, but in every part of you. There is that immensely heavy feeling in the core of your being that weighs you down; you feel lifeless, defeated, destroyed.

This could be triggered by a small mistake, or a whopping failure, a simple comment someone made to you or to someone else about you, or blatant abuse. Whatever the cause, there is no denying that there are times when we feel lower than low, with no hopes of ever coming back up. When cynicism and apathy rule supreme and any bit of optimism you have is shot down by the aforementioned cynicism and apathy.

Some people call it being “down in the dumps”, while others more crudely refer to it as “feeling like shit”. Therapists, psychologists and the like may term it “depression” or perhaps the milder but no less impacting “low self-esteem”. It goes by many names, but that feeling remains the same everywhere, for everyone.

What really gets to me, though, is how… silent the emotion is. Think about it. Anger is all chaos. It’s a torrent of roarings and screechings, hissings and spittings, clawing and tearing that takes over your insides. Sadness is this huge gaping pit; a black hole that sucks away any joy with the a sound reminiscent of the last swirls of water going down the drain in the sink. Happiness is buoyant, bright and bouncing; laughter and music, Jealousy similar to Anger, but on a different level.

Losing faith in ourselves, however, is a quiet thing. It’s like an early winter morning of thick fog and mist, and a slight chill that makes you wish you were in bed under the blankets. It’s feeling worthless, useless, a waste of air and space. It’s not bothering to do anything because you feel there’s no point – you’ll just screw it up anyways, right? It is not the sudden going off of a light bulb, but the flickering and subsequent fading out of a candle. It is all those things, yet it doesn’t make a sound. Not one peep. As swift and as agile as an alley cat, with the silence of a ninja making his way through the night, it just comes over you.

And then you sink further, deeper, until you choose get yourself out. No one else can do it for you. They may throw you the rope, but only you can pull yourself through it. It’s all a matter of rousing up enough determination, enough hope, and not letting them get attacked, until you are not thinking of yourself as anything less than you truly are. I freely confess I am being completely and utterly hypocritical here, by giving out advice that I myself refuse to take. However, that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less important, any less true, nor any less necessary for you to read and remember.

Masking the Truth

Sep 8th, 2009 3:43:00pm

It has recently occurred to me that I have been described as “cold” rather frequently this past year. I am sincerely hoping, as I had not the heart to ask, that they meant it in the context of me being very calm on the surface, and not referring to the less flattering description of being unemotional and robotic. I find it amusing they call me that at all, for in truth I “freak out” quite easily.

This brings to light how often we hide our true selves, our real emotions and reactions to the things around us. Why? Why do we wrap the cloak of a whole other personality over the one we have now? Smiling when all we want is to cry, keeping a stoic face when all we want is to punch something, laughing when inside you just want to curl up and die… Everyone has their own personal reasons, but did I not say in a previous column that everything we do has no true reason at all? One could say they put on a mask because they are afraid of others seeing them for who they are. What if who they are is more amazing than what they pretend to be? The argument would be, “What if they’re not and are just hiding a horrible, evil self?” Well, we won’t be able to figure that out until the disguise has fallen apart. We won’t be able to help the person, if help is possible, unless we see what needs that help.

The desire to keep things bottled up is present in many, many people. Sadly, probably more than there are people who are not afraid to be themselves. We feel other’s emotions are more important than our own; our emotions are invalid, unjustified, and stupid. We quell them, keep them at bay, suppress them and push them down into the farthest recesses of our hearts. First, it’s hard, having to hide what makes you you. However, as time passes, it gets easier, until it has become second nature. At this point even if you wanted to you wouldn’t be able to bring those emotions to surface, so deep have you buried them. It starts to build, after a while. All you have kept inside for so long, never letting go, begins to demand release, pounding harder against the container you imprisoned them in, and you have to explode, let it out somehow. Sort of reminiscent of a volcano, no?

Sometimes even our talents can never be displayed, because we are afraid of being teased for them. Also because we are scared they are not as significant as we thought they were, that they’re not special, and that if we show them to someone else those suspicions and doubts may be confirmed. We might even be ashamed of them, as they may not coincide with the expectations and desires of others.

It all boils down to fear, doesn’t it? Fear of being ourselves, because of fear of ridicule and mockery; fear of us not being good enough; fear we’ll never be good enough; fear of not being as “perfect” as we think people want us to be. So we build walls, we wear masks and hide behind them. We act. And what a draining performance it is.

Maybe one day, no one will ever feel the need to act anymore. Maybe one day we can all unashamedly, unabashedly and completely be ourselves, without dwelling a single thought on what people might think or do or say. Maybe one day, we won’t put on a whole new face for the world, but display our own with pride. One day, we might be able to remove our veils completely, instead of just bit by bit, or not at all. Maybe one day we won’t be so afraid.

Perfectionism: The Downfall of Many

Sep 6th, 2009 4:56:00pm

Perfectionism -noun: a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less.

That definition is open for discussion, in my opinion. For one thing, everyone’s idea of “perfection” is different; it depends upon a person’s taste and sense of what is right and what isn’t. For another, even then, “perfection” is an impossible goal. There is no such thing. It is a word that should not exist in any language, because all it does is drive us towards, and sometimes over, the edge. Anything, and I do mean anything,can be improved upon. No matter how many times I revise this column, for example, there will always be a better way to write it. If it is not found by me, it will be by someone else.

As we progress in life, people are going to discover new ways to make things better. To improve. Everything has room for improvement, after all. Nothing is truly perfect, for as I said, there is no such thing. It isn’t about being perfect, supreme or superior, it is about whether that object or person is perfect to you. Flaws will always be there. The question is, are you willing to accept them, let them go, and focus more on the good points instead?

We have been forced to believe that perfection is attainable. That if you buy this, or do that, or just change this bit here and that bit there, you can reach that incredibly high standard of “perfect”. I do not only mean your body image, I mean everything. Everyone wants themselves and their work to be perfect. There is nothing wrong with that, because it means you will work hard to better yourself, which is always a good thing. No, my point here is you have to know when enough is enough. “…rejects anything less” says the definition up there. You can’t do that. You shouldn’t do that. Otherwise, you’re going to be rejecting pretty much all that comes your way, all that you do will never be good enough, all that anyone does will never be good enough.

When you strive hard to make each little thing perfect, you’re missing out. You will never be truly satisfied with anything. You’re just stressing yourself out, and in your pursuit of that ever-elusive “perfection”, you’re losing sight of what you really should be doing: just performing the best you can and leaving it at that. I admit, even I have fallen victim to the quest. All I have met with is frustration, anger, and then apathy until all I want is to get it done, no longer caring how good I’d wanted it be, nor how bad it may become. Realise now, people, that struggling for something that doesn’t exist is a waste of your time and energy. Get off that treadmill, because no matter how much you run, you won’t be going anywhere.

In the end, I reiterate what I previously said, “It isn’t about being perfect, supreme, or superior, it is about whether that object or person is perfect to you.” You should have standards, yes, but accept the fact that flaws are a part of everything that comes along. They’re always going to be there. Be the best you can be, do the best you can do, and that’s perfect enough.

Curious, very curious

Sep 6th, 2009 12:05:00am

Now that I have returned, after such a long absence, to this blog,* I itch to write. It is surprising I have not started twitching yet, I desire to so badly. Makes me wonder whether this is how true passion feels like. Passion for an occupation, I mean. Does it take you over, that urge? Control you, overwhelm your senses until it is all you can think about, all you want to think about until it is done?

That is how I feel now. Inspiration is flowing through my veins, and, to quote that rather cliche idiom, “I’m on fire”. It’s curious that this happens now, after only recently considering Media as a major. It’s also curious that I now see ads for the course almost everywhere I go. It’s curious that right now, at this moment, I can think of nothing else I’d rather learn to become than a writer of some sort.

It is curious that, even though I know it is no more than a dream, I can see myself so clearly behind a laptop, writing for some magazine or newspaper. I wonder at the ability of us humans to dream, to visualise so clearly. As far-fetched and unrealistic as those dreams can be, it does not stop us from having them anyway. People could say that we have our heads in the clouds, and that we should come back down to earth. Well that may be so, in my case at least, but those who pay the nay-sayers no heed; those who stay up among those clouds and build their castle in the sky; they prove them wrong everyday.

It is curious how, when we believe in something strong enough, we can achieve those dreams, despite the circumstances. It is curious how determined us humans are, when it is our dreams are on the line.

It is curious how some people give up on their dreams, believing the ones who say it can’t be done. Sometimes, it is even themselves who say it can’t be done. I, admittedly, am of the latter group. It does not stop me from admiring people who have pursued their ambitions honorably, and who have succeeded, and that’s curious too, for should I not be envying them, instead of applauding them?
However, most curious of all, is that those who say you can’t do it? The people who claim it’s stupid and wrong to go after what you want? They only say it because they didn’t get what they wanted. They didn’t make it; they gave up, and they are all the more bitter because of it.

*”This blog” being the blog this was originally posted to all those years ago.

Without Rhyme or Reason

Sep 5th, 2009 10:44:00pm

A good friend of mine once asked, “Why do we do the things we do?” My answer to her was that our emotions, our experiences and their effect on us, our reason and logic, that’s what governed our actions. However, it occurred to me that this was not as valid an answer as I thought at the time.

Thinking about it, I realised that it goes far deeper than that, to a place where our minds cannot comprehend. Because when you break it down, you still have the questions, Why do we feel the way we feel? Why does our experiences affect us to the extent that we base our actions on them? Why do we think in the way we do, and reason things in the way we do? Basically, the question here is “Why?”
Do any of us really, truly have that answer? It’s different for everyone, after all. Perhaps why we do what we do has no reason whatsoever. Or perhaps the reason, though seeming a good one at the time, is not really valid as you thought during that moment. Be honest. How many of you have looked back at a situation and asked yourself, “WHY did I do that!? What cause could there possibly have been to make me act like that!? If only I’d thought clearer, and done this instead.”

With every action you regret, there is a reason you performed them in the first place. It gets blurry to your future self, fades away, and all that is left is that feeling of remorse. Sometimes, even with things you don’t regret, it still fades away. So perhaps, in essence, we have no reason at all for what we do. If we did, would it not remain in our memory? Instead, what remains after time has passed is the action itself, its consequences and repercussions, and almost never the cause.

Perhaps we are governed by something beyond ourselves. Perhaps our free will is only an illusion, and we are slaves to our emotions, even if we don’t know why we feel the way we feel. Perhaps, in truth, the reasons don’t even matter, only your actions. If you’ve done something bad, it stays that way. No one really considers why you did it, only the fact that you did it. If you’ve done something good, it’s just the same.

“Without rhyme or reason.” That describes everything we’ve ever done or ever will do. Because everything is without rhyme or reason. Your justifications and arguments don’t matter. No one is going to remember them, not even you. The only thing they’ll remember, the only thing you’ll remember, is your actions.

And if I do say so myself, that is a very scary thought.

On Hard Work

28 July, 2016, 10:25 PM

Sometimes I’m terrified that I’m more in love with the idea of hard work than hard work itself.

I like making plans and planning routines. I like the fresh beginnings and I like the idea of having reached the end.

The middle, though… That’s the part I’m not too keen on.

Sure, there are some things that I have to do whether I’m keen on them or not. I have to write that paper for class, I have to study for that exam, I have to write that article for that magazine or blog or newspaper. But when I sit down and do those things I’m forced to confront the question of whether, if the grade, or disappointment of my boss or teacher, were taken away, I would still do it. Would I be able to sit my ass down and do it for me rather than for some extrinsic reward or fear of punishment?

I like to think that I would, if I loved it enough or was excited about it enough.

But truth is, I’m genuinely not sure. And I live with that fear every day of my life.

Holidays are the hardest. When I feel myself paralyzed by all the things I’d “planned” to do, laying around in bed or on the couch letting the hours fly past in uselessness. A blob of nothingness. Even an hour of productivity ends up feeling rewarding, but contrasted with how many hours I’ve wasted away, that so-called “accomplishment” is just a pile of crap.

I need to learn to fall in love with the process. I need to be more disciplined, have more willpower, create good, productive habits and stop sustaining and falling into the bad ones. I need to stop saying “tomorrow” or “next week” or “when I move out” or “once I start university” or any of those things.

Get organized. Get better. Do better. Keep trying. Try Harder.

I am better than this. I can be better than this, I know it. But working towards it… That middle between who I am now and who I want to be… That’s the part I’m not to keen on.

But it’s there, yawning out before me like an endless uphill trek to a peak I can’t even see. And I’m hoping that somewhere in the middle of all this middle, I’ll learn to fall in love with each step onward and upward.