Sunday, October 23, 2005
What A Difference A Trip Made
As I weaved through the stretch of road through Singapore's main tourist attraction belt, I noticed something. There were many faces that emanated energy, life and innocence.
Little did I wonder that I would be in the state that I am in today - adulthood. Having gotten the "golden key" to freedom - which is utter nonsense, if my life is anything to go by - I feel that I've aged years beyond my current age (not literally... I think). No longer can I feel that I'm a part of the crowd strolling through Orchard Road tirelessly and aimlessly. Times have changed. Instead, I'm one of those in smart casual attires, seated in cafes or restaurants, looking out at people walking pass. I can no more feel excited and energized about walking from Lido to Orchard Cineleisure. It's become a drudgery.
Even going into Orchard Cineleisure or The Heerens can be mentally depressing and tiring. Most of the patrons are youth barely into their late teens. Interestingly, most of the customers at cafes and restaurants in these places are filled people like me or older - early twenties to mid-thirties; sipping their cups of beverages worthy of it's price (I hope).
Come to think of it, wasn't I one of those hip and (not-so) trendy youngsters walking around, in and out of shopping malls with unwaveringly high energy levels before? A trip to town today probably takes more energy out of me just by merely walking from one mall to the next.
Without a doubt it's age that's causing all of these changes in a way or another. I hate growing old since 16 and every time my birthday comes I loathe it. It's ironic actually. I love birthday gifts but I hate growing up. I think everyone share this sentiment. The biggest irony I think, should probably be the 21st birthday. Why? First, I'm only 21, which makes my views within this context indefinitely biased. Second, I think that when people say you get the "key" to freedom, it probably means you can watch R21 movies and allowed to vote, period. What is life?
Sometimes we get carried away by our daily activities that we forget that we're slowly approaching our lives' deadline. No one knows for sure when we will die. Have we wondered when will our time come? Perhaps when the flower pot lands on your unlucky head, or you get run down by a lorry? What about bird flu?
I'm pretty much confused about what this world is about. Do humans live to die? And what about when we die? Who will we become or where will we go to? Is there another world? If so, is there enough space for the new souls to squeeze into? If we are made to reincarnate - that which I term as recycling of organism - in this world once again, then when will it be? Does our souls get (if there really is) "transferred" immediately into the to-be-newborn or is there a sort of quarantine?
If "till death do us part" holds, then wouldn't married couples be terribly upset that they're made to part after they die? (That's if there are such things as souls and souls can recognize each other. Come to think of it, scientifically, souls can't think because they've no brains. How to recognize each other?)
What are the mechanisms that operates this world?
Maybe babies hold some pieces of the puzzle encompassing those answers. Because of the fact that they cannot speak at birth and for the subsequent first few years of life that follow, and assuming that souls are real and are truly "transferable", then babies are probably the people "brought to life again" (or reincarnate - whatever) from scratch! It just works out that babies cannot talk and their memories are utterly vague. So, their grasp of memories of their past lives becomes evanescent. Only trace amounts of their previous lives' memories appear as dej vu scenarios or in dreams.
Anyhow, I'm only 21 for goodness. It's not as though I'm hitting 40 and I'm still single. Or that my social life is crumbling into fragments. I'm just like any average student bogged down by assignments and projects. I enjoy occasional mood swings and depressive thoughts. Stalking up on Dettol, Panadol, rat poison and washing detergent seems absolutely necessary nowadays...
Before I become too paranoid, I think I should revert back to the current state of matters.
Is there magic in this world?
Not once have I been able to understand the mechanics of human life. Why are there people who repeatedly commit mistakes which they have made earlier? Are they not supposed to be far more superior intellectually than us beings?
Or is there a mysterious mechanism in love that somehow hides humans' past setups?
Maybe we will never find out. For the minds of humans are perplex and complicated. They use us to pen down their illogical thoughts and save them forever in cyberspace. Our space is increasingly being taken up by their nonsensical input! Isn't this infringement of territory? Sometimes they do not even know the reason that they do those silly things. Does that make us more superior in a way, since we always only deduce logic in our central processing unit?
But like humans, I do fall ill. Once, I caught a virus and they had to cure me using some really expensive anti-virus. Somehow I regained strength to generate information again shortly after! Oh well. I guess humans do rule the world. What if... We could be like them. Wouldn't that be fantastic? I can have chips anytime I desire. But I still have to listen to motherboard because I need her to give me directions in my life.
But how do we get energy? Without humans, we aren't advanced enough to make our own food. Maybe if we can ask aunt Solar and uncle Panel to stay longer in the sun. I'm sure they wouldn't mind giving us some energy. They always claim to feel energized after a day under the scorching sun. I will probably burn under the rays.
Come to think of it, I think he's going to make me shut down. I'm feeling hot. I think I've been running for too long. Better rest and restart tomorrow!
Foreword: It is in no other way more mortifying than to talk about the following pandemic issue on this site. I do hope this entry will shed some light on the pervasive attitudes of people towards plain Janes and the likes.
One thing is for sure. If I have the financial resources, I will definitely reserve appointments with top-notch beauticians.
I can only understand society's crave for symmetrical facial features (for guys); chiseled face, dark round seductive eyes, full lips and a pointed nose. This is the quintessential beautiful face. Not a blemish is present and a set of whites to give that value-added charm.
Obviously the omni-potent One was impartial while creating human. No face is absolutely identical (not even twins) and not everyone is born with a face coveted by fashion magazines. How many people are craving for such immaculately beautiful faces? How many people were rejected just because they do not possess The Looks?
There're always people who look better than you. Similarly, there are people who look worse than you. So while we pity ourselves for not looking beautiful, what about those who look aesthetically displeasing? Should we be glad that we are at least in the average category? Or continue to lament over the notion that our lives are done for with these looks?
Sometimes I do buy into the logical notion that one's character and attitude are more important than looks. The reason being that the former degenerate over time while the latter two are inherent traits (pretty obvious rationale, if you ask me). But somehow I do not feel consoled. I believe that many people of and/or around my age share such sentiments. Perhaps we're still young and superficial. Or is it just me?
Even if you are not beautiful, you're wealthy! That will definitely console more people than all the strands on your skull put together. At least if you're rich, you get to spend freely on accessories and whatnots to perk yourself up. Even better, get a plastic surgeon to alter anything - that's within his means - you dislike about your body. I wish I have that kind of money to spend on. At least I can change the pictures on my passport and identity card forever.
Even if looks hold the highest priority for some people, there's one notion that stands higher than that: Love is blind.
It should work for me, I guess.
One step to decide the ultimate fate.
Pressure is mounting. I'm not sure whether I can feel anymore. I cannot sleep in peace. I can feel myself giving way soon. I can imagine the wall of resistance crumbling any moment soon. Resilience have packed her bags. I need to break down. I have to break down. I am breaking down...
I can feel the breeze caressing my cheeks and open moist palms.
F*ck the moments of pleasure. F*ck the others. F*ck the people I've f*ck. What is wrong with me? Strength seems to be draining out of me. I feel fatigue starting to overwhelm my very body, breaking down the networks within. What is wrong with those people? Can't they just give in a little more? Why can't they be more proactive? F*cking retarded fools. Why are there such people who even exist? The world will become so much a better place for proper human beings if those annoying morons never existed at all. I hope they just burn in eternal hell and their skin scrapped off from their charred worthless carcasses. I need help. No, I don't need it - I can stand on my own. But what if I can't make it through?
Everything looks so minute from high above. The crows have never looked so resplendent at night.
What's the point of pursuing it if there can never possibly be any chance? Have I not been a lonely ranger for long enough? But I cannot stop thinking of that. So many others are available. But why do I not notice them?
Human minds are just too complexed.
Whenever I watch a sad scene, listen to a sad ballad or read of a touching story, I wish I can be the protagonist, feel love and loss. What a dream! But this is the real world. True love? Eat my ass. Die from a terminal illness in the arms of a lover? Think about paying for the coffin first. Spend a clandestine evening on the couch with a new found beautiful lover? In probably a million lifetimes.
Each time I walk past high rise, I wish so much that my life shall be put to an end by killer litters. So much for my life then. No legacy. No memories. No sadness. No more financial woes! Liberation from my not so significant life. Who knows how many fellatio I've had and how many cheeries I've popped? My name just fades into nothingness eventually. But what becomes of the people I know, love and care about? So many things to think of. Just die. No worries.
Life is unfair. Live with it since I'm still alive. Many obligations awaiting me.
Note: This entry is not intended for those who might incidentally be seeking for comic relief. It is advisable that you skip this entry for its mundane content which is absolutely unsuitable for impatient readers.
Many a times do we find ourselves beguiled by the soothing melodies of melancholic tunes. Time slows down to a halt and our emotions inevitably runs through our psyche spontaneously. Such is the wonder of songs.
Ballads evoke emotions that are otherwise usually kept hidden. Rock songs bring us to higher grounds. Rhythm & Blues(R&B) move those reluctant legs on the dancefloor. Classicals soothes the mind. Oldies brings back, well, memories?
Mere tunes and lyrics can move people to tears, bring joy to the hearts of young children, or simply bring people together for a common cause. Music, in itself, is a component of paramount importance attributable to the evolution, survival and possibly, continuity of human society, amongst many others (which are irrelevant here).
Music has always been used as a media for conveying messages, information, feelings and thoughts across people everywhere. This explains its pervasiveness in society. As such, its presence has never been undermined. There are people who live on it, some who live with it and others who live for it.
I think there's always a genre that individuals tend to find a niche in, which they think specifically suits their character and/or is to their liking. Mainstream pop is the overwhelming victor in polls; not many can get themselves out of its bubblegum stickiness. But once anyone manages to get out of it, he will then discover the other delightful alter egos of music.
As we grow older, we realize that our tastes and choices of music change. I've often wonder whether it is because of the environment that has caused this change, or is it due to changes in the receptivity of our mind to music at different stages of our lives.
Nonetheless, there's this trend of upward listening culture that I've also observed. Most people turn to music that are not as easily appreciated as mainstream pop as they become older. For example, a change from oldies to classical or jazz. Appreciation for such music is acquired (personally speaking). What is the reason? Pop is becoming too cloying for their taste buds? Perhaps compelling social conditions and influences? Could this be a marked trend that will spread to the younger generation?
Music should be an enjoyment and a form of luxury - think of the Ethiopians suffering in Africa.
If the eyes are the windows to the souls of people, then songs are the writings on the wall by those very souls.
I'm sure there are many people who know what they truly want in life. I am also sure that there are people who have no idea what their life is all about. Truth be told, I have mixed ideas about what I want in life specifically, although there is probably an inkling of what my life is about right now at the back of my mind. But I'm not so much of a dumb wit who knows next to nothing about my entire life - I've a passion for running.
There has to be some form of aim or focus to direct us in life. Be it academic pursuit, attaining that difficult yoga position or monetary reward, these are aims and goals that we all aspire to achieve at one point in our lives. Humans are never satisfied. How can we say that we have no aims or wants? That's preposterous. Vague, to say the least. Even cooking a bowl of noodles requires some form of desire to attain the intended end result.
But the distinct difference comes to full view when we ask ourselves, in our own individual hearts, this: Are we going to spend our entire lives in pursuit of those desires and/or enjoying the fruits of our labour, alone?
Many people are single and desperate, but not ugly. They're are perhaps hampered by many factors and obstacles that prove to be too overwheming for them. I think not. If the ego cannot be suppressed then it's time to restructure the mentality; if it's too consuming on your precious time to commit then it's about time that you reorganize your time table.
What's the difference between having someone to share your most intimate thoughts with and typing a blog entry (after filtering much details that are too sensitive to be revealed)?
Sometimes this becomes exasperating when all of those thoughts are cooped up inside that tiny skull and minute fist-sized heart. Shouting your lungs out seems so plausible. On the other hand, if there was someone alongside, to motivate and encourage you during the lows and to infect your laughters with, it's not surprising that life becomes meaningful altogether.
As anyone can tell, there're many successful singles out there. Highly committed to their work and pride upon their achievements. It's enviable. But who's to know what their private lives are like? Lively and fulfilling? Serene but solitary?
Maybe in the end, it's up to individual preference (so cliched, i know).