Reminiscing

Better late than never...

This post isn't really about reminiscing... well maybe it is.. aah fuck it...

How old is old enough to indulge in a memoir? Well as soon as you do, I guess it means that you're done with this life at least. Maybe that's why people don't like thinking too much about their pasts. But it creeps in now and then, just to remind you of who you are, or rather who you were and what you have come to be. You know how there are certain memories that really stick out in your mind? Significant or completely trivial, they stick out like really pokey thorns in your thoughts. I have a few that I think about almost daily. Somehow most of them are regretful memories, but sometimes they are just perfect moments that you wish you could live through again. I like memories. Sentimentalness (yes that's not a word) is underrated.

There's a general progression, that as you grow older, you begin to speak less and less. You begin reflecting rather than acting, until one day, all you have is your reflection, and nothing left to say. I think that's why the stereotypical spiritually enlightened have very little to say, because they are too preoccupied with their thoughts. Maybe the experiences that we go through in life are just illustrious metaphors for some deeper understanding of the divine. That would be nice I guess.

So I guess that there are no good experiences or bad experiences... just experiences that are personally tailored to deliver a subliminal message of understanding. Or maybe I've just got it all wrong and everyone isn't really thinking about worldly questions, but rather procrastinating on their Facebook feeds. There used to be a time when I wouldn't think twice about what I was doing and why I was doing it. If I was on the tennis court, it was because I was on the tennis court. Not because I was competitive, or I wanted to be a better tennis player. It was just because I was there. I don't think I remember a single trip from my Golden Sands 2 building down to the courts, but somehow, after school, I would magically find myself there. There was no decision to be made.

As I grew a little more, there were more decisions to be made. Should I go out, should I not. Should I sleep or stay awake. Should I play the drums or the guitar. Should I pick up the phone. I think circumstances make the setting a lot more interesting. As children we are not concerned about one less day to live, or an aimless life, and we end up experiencing a lot more. And as we go through the immensely complicated tutorial of the burdens and responsibilities of this urban system, we become hesitant to experience. Our lives become streamlined and aimed in a direction.

To be honest... I don't really know where this is going... but at least I'm writing... maybe to stop thinking, and start creating memories instead of reminiscing. So here is to forgetting direction and order. Here's to chaos and anarchy and to have one more good memory to make.

Painting Red

I want to paint but I only have red, and I don't really have anything to paint on.. so I guess I'll just blog instead :)

Another year, and another empty room with clear white walls. Another struggle to carry boxes of nothingness to the next empty room. And another reason to reflect on moments gone by. It's difficult not to refract back to my thoughts so I guess I should just give in once again...

It's funny how one's ideals are formed. Are you left or are you right. Is left right or is right wrong? What would be the most pleasing thing to say and how could I say the right thing so that I get to be a part of the gang. It's difficult when you speak another language and people look to your words to look at you and in the process you are lost to everyone but yourself.

But I guess one must put on a show for the time being... until the dialogue is unnecessary it seems. One must paint the walls to make this empty room feel like home, or make this home feel lived in or make this life feel full... so I put up pieces of paper that are pieces of people that are a part of my life. A stranger's glove from a familiar place and a random painting from a flee market, or a whimsical sketch from a schoolchild naivety of days gone by. But I know that a year from now, when I'm taking down those pieces once again, and I have white walls stare at me late in the night, I will feel this feeling again.

That bareness, it's so confusing. On one hand, I feel naked and alone, but on the other hand, I feel more conscious of my own self, and not the white noise of those hundreds of conversations and stories that build the characters covering the walls of my room. I enjoy the clarity for a while. Reminds me of Ikea brochures and empty canvases... so white, and square and straight. Clear, but not colorful.

So today I wonder on who I was, who I am and who I want to be. Do I want to be a wall filled with bumps and raises and splashes of blue red green yellow, or do I want to be an empty white walled room, no distractions, no confusion, just myself.

Revival Rant 2011

Off late I have contemplated giving up ROTD. I have come to the realization that diplomacy rules all, where a secret ritual becomes meaningless if it is shared, or a heavily opinionated judgment could genuinely hurt someone. The blog posts I used to write were full of those scandalous thoughts and I didn't really care to think about who I was writing about or even who I was writing for.

Aah, but we all must grow up and I think it's happening to me too. Not so much so that I am maturing, but rather that I am understanding that people take you seriously because they think that you should know better now. I can't not be serious now because it is simply not allowed. I would be thought of as irritating and childish.

So I continue to do grown up things but now I can't blog. My vocabulary has shrunk down to the dictionary of diplomacy and self-censorship, and living becomes a day to day chore of making sure that I am in good standing with my community. It is frankly, the most boring and dull thing that I have ever been through.

A few years ago, I used to contemplate happiness quite seriously. I remember I came upon the conclusion that one can become happy instantly just by deciding to be happy in that moment. It is truly and simply a consciousness of your radiating vibes, and you do decide whether they are happy or sad. At that time, I thought that I was the ultimate guru of enlightened happiness, and in my own way I was. But it seems that I have forgotten a lot about who I was and the ideals that I had set out for myself.

I spent the last few days reading through ROTD, backwards. It's amazing how you can see transformation in thought patterns through the time. And I did notice that I had begun to become very serious in my writing and in my thoughts as well. That last post gives me a headache if I try reading it now.

So anyway, here is to returning back to the old, happy, donut loving, jumping, frolicking and funning blog that I had started out with. And if anyone is ever offended by my lack of diplomacy, I would suggest they do some growing up themselves :)

Late night rant... A pseudo masterpiece

Write a masterpiece, write write write! Don't be forgotten, not now no! Write to be seen, to free your ego, to feed your ego, write write write! don't ever stop writing, for if you do, you might just stop breathing. Don't stop those thoughts, let them flow like the wildest rivers of the world. Let them flow flow flow! Flow away into the horizon, where the sun fades away, a never ending goodbye, the greatest promise of tomorrows rise, the greatest lie. And I struggle, oh how I struggle to believe you, but I will sleep tonight, because I am tired, and naive, but I keep tense with anticipation. sleep sleep sleep! Oh how sweet are the child's dreams. How happy he lies, with a smile on his face. Sleep forever, never awake to this harsh reality. Sleep if you can for just another moment. Just sleep and never awake.

But the world is running, and if you close your eyes, you might just miss this life. So start running after your ambition. Run run run! Run, for if you fall behind, you will be left behind forever. Oh what potential to do great things. Oh what a waste. What a waste waste waste! But who are we to judge. Who are you to judge? Who are you? Keep your sympathy in your pocket for a rainy day. Live now in silence, for we need to hear the spirits dance and sing. Don't talk for with every word that is said, this soul gets tainted, darkened and dulled. Aah the fear, to be dulled to oblivion. No, don't forget me now, for if you do, I will cease to exist. I grab on to this existence with both my hands. I grab onto you with both my hands, for I am hanging, on the edge of my mind, on tilt, forever hanging.

Feel this earth under your feet. Feel that it is real. Feel feel feel. Feel how it tremors through your body, and lays the weight of the world on your mind. Oh the decisions decisions decisions. Like quick sand, it pulls you closer to your roots, where you came from. Pulling pulling pulling you with your own thoughts. Burdens of infinite lives, but you are just one man. Just one man. Just one. Small, insignificant, what can you do? Can you change the world? Do you have the answers? The answers to the mysteries and phantoms that can save us. Have you arrived, our savior, our messiah, our godsend.

Or are you just like me? Normal and ordinary. Are your words as empty as the wind? To be carried away into the moonlit night. This beautiful candle light. This beautiful candle light. If your words mean nothing, the let us stop here. Stop for a moment, and collect all that we know and search hard for a tune that fits this still moment. And let me take you by the hand, and if the tune is right, then we will sing. We will sing sing sing, in a language unknown, for the lyrics will not matter, in an alien tune, for the harmony will become only ours and only for this moment.

I miss you. Your soft, small face. Your eyes, weightless, as if you saw a different world. All the promises we made, to invest our love and our lives in one another. All the dreams we shattered... I thought I could forget you, but you linger on my mind, like a song stuck in repeat. You would never know it, but I miss you.

Aah but it matters not. Not in this superfluous world. Fill your sorrows with ipods and ipads and blackberrys and green fairies. Fill your life with a cloud of people you cannot see, or touch or feel. Meditate and lose your reality, for all that is left to experience is death. And we shall tread on until we are ended, or until we have begun.

Tread on into another day, into another promise, but don't stop writing. No don't stop writing, for if you do, you might just stop breathing...

No words today...