“Never presume to know a person based on the one-dimensional window of the internet. A soul can’t be defined by critics, enemies or broken ties with family or friends. Neither can it be explained by posts or blogs that lack facial expressions, tone or insight into the person’s personality and intent. Until people “get that”, we will forever be a society that thinks Beautiful Mind was a spy movie and every stranger is really a friend on Facebook.”
It’s all about this picture quote: (featuring a battered foot of a ballet dancer)
“Everyone wants to be successful until they see what it actually takes.”
One Ian Patrick Pearce said:
“Some of us wanted to do what it takes until we saw what “successful” looks like.
Not many people who give me advice have lives I want. Almost no one does.
Redefining my own personal meaning for success has been a much more worthwhile endeavor.”
Which a Roylee Walker answered:
“So you basically mean lowering your standards until you are satisfied.”
And Ian retorted:
“No, I mean redefining our own personal meaning of success. Which is what I said.
For me, it meant only competing to be better than the me from yesterday, and no one else. For you, it can mean lowering your standards, and that’s okay.”
A William Albert chimed in:
“We don’t need to be successful, we need to be Happy.”
Hetha Smetha (I wonder if it is really her name) thrown in:
“I’ll take mediocrity…those who want it can have it.”
And others contributed their unremarkable thoughts. Some of them downright stupid but C’est la vie. Me, I learned a lot from listening and shutting my mouth, unless I have something meaningful to say.
And life goes on.
For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child’s boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn’t immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.
It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.
And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don’t have genuine souls.
It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else.
I would have done anything to feel real again.
~ Gillian Flynn
I wish I could say I have a love-hate relationship with food, at least, that way, there is still one positive side to it but the truth is I neither love nor hate food. For me consuming any form of nourishment is nothing but a necessary evil. I don’t enjoy the act nor the taste. My father said I eat like a soldier and it doesn’t change since then. I gobble and gulp the food as if there is no tomorrow and with minimal chewing. The sooner it’s done the better. If I have one feeling which associated with food that would be guilt.
I feel guilty when I eat and I don’t know why. Never been anorexic or bulimic. Never had so much issue with my weight. Of course, I don’t want to get fat who does anyway but a serious problem regarding weight I never have. But I feel guilty nonetheless when consuming a fair quantity of food. What is a fair amount in my book? Eating three times or more a day. I feel that I should be eating only once or not at all. If I could skip a meal or two, That would be ideal. I feel better that way. Believe you me if I can go on without food I will, there is no doubt about that.
I only eat when I’m dying of hunger or craving for something. Mostly fried crunchy food because sweets I can’t tolerate. I never fancy cakes or ice cream. I can eat them without a problem (if you consider lactose and gluten intolerance not a problem) but I draw the line at chocolates. No matter how hard I try I simply cannot acquire the taste for it. I can go so far as saying I hate them. I don’t care if they are artisanal or expensive coated with eatable gold leaf, if it’s chocolate, I pass.
So, where is my aversion for food originated from?
From my youth, where else you might say, but I don’t think so. We were poor and every meal we considered a feast back then. I grew up on a diet of seafood being born and bred in a fishpond. Meat was scarce and so hard to come by we only had them once a week on Sunday. If you want to know a little bit more about how my life was when I was growing up, you can read some of the painful details here and here.
Anyway, whatever psychological issues I have with food, I don’t know where it comes from. All I can say is: Food doesn’t excite me. I wish I can go on without.
A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April — drip — drip — drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon’s meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs —
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.
What I feel these days? I don’t know anymore. It is nothing like I’ve felt before but, whatever it is, it’s overlaid with so many other emotions that it’s difficult to isolate…
“Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.
-Songs of Sapphique”
“I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect… As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.”
This quote above reminds me of an episode when during the happiest, wildest, confusing, enjoyable painful saddest ride of my life when I was lost looking for my rainbow connection the captain ball of my basketball team refused despite his teammates urging him to put a stop to his shenanigans and properly court me so we could all move on (meaning if I turned down the guy the next in line can try his luck and if I accept him then they will know the chase is over and life can go back to normal) he said: “Why would I do that? This way, you can all wait forever and I will always be at the head of the queue.” He was seventeen, sweet and such a handful. I was thirty-one, looking like sixteen, daring and crazy like hell but has a decency and sense not to give in to temptation. Those were the days.
I have always been fascinated with the DNA of everything. More in clinical ways than theoretical or scientifical. How can I explain it… I want to know the hows and whys of a living organism without spending hours, weeks, years in a laboratory or drowning myself in paperwork. I want to understand why things behave in certain ways. For example, why cacti (and succulents for that matter) know what shape to evolve and what kind of spines, glochids, spinose teeth or whatever they call it to grow to protect themselves. Why they flower when one abuses and neglects them? Why siblings who grew up in the same environment, shared the same genetic makeup, identical background, and upbringing become completely two different individuals, opposite in every way. Why two identical plants, planted side by side in the garden grow completely different from each other, one of them big and robust, the other small, thinly and dying. I once dismantled a transistor radio and a watch of my father out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to know how they work, what makes them tick. I am none the wiser of course after that episode. I lack the knowledge and the drive to pursue the interest. I am more artistically inclined than technical though I like to think I am both. Anyway, isn’t it handy if we understand the mechanism of everything so we can treat them accordingly?
To win the peace you must first fight the war.
History confirms the above saying and we witness one or other form of it happening in day to day life but still I have a trouble believing it must be so. Unjustified… Injustice… Unjustification…. are the words that playing in my head. I don’t know if it affects me greatly because I can relate to this- in my life there is no such thing as easy gain. I have to fight with all my might for every inch of space, every ounce of respect, for freedom, for personal rights… for my very existence- or being a warrior is just a part of my genetic makeup. In any case it doesn’t sit right with me. I feel angry by just reading these words. I can associate it with everything that is happening around me- there is no donuts anymore in the nearby filling station or anywhere close to where I live. There is no decent coffee either when you want it. The least you can get is half a cup of lukewarm brew- around the world- global warming and all the consequences of it. The disappearance of all the things that have something to do with quality, morals and values. I can’t rant on and on but I will not (as if this post is not ranting enough) not this time- I just cant believe one has to fight in order to gain something that supposed to be a birthright, right? Like freedom and the right to exist and be treated accordingly regardless of which walk of life you came from or the colour of your skin or if you are beautiful or not, female or male or member of the third sex or belonged to the lower class of animal (which for me is humans) handicapped or having mental illness. All because of these laws created by man which resulted to prejudiced society of supposed to be educated people from civilized countries who cannot even exercise common decency between them. And I’m ranting early in the morning just because I am sick and can’t sleep since Sunday. What that makes me?
Internalized pain is always a stronger motivator than security and commitment. Like pride is always been a stronger motivator than courage. Contented people take happiness for granted. Anguished people struggle to find it through self-expression.