Does not smell like emo spirit... for once!

Hmm I realised that recently I have being excessively emo. Looking back over the past few posts, I saw quite a number of "smells like emo spirit". I like that tagline. Its like Nirvana all over again, only this time in the emo era; a bit of Carrabba mixed in with Cobain. For the uninitiated, that's the lead singer in Dashboard and Nirvana respectively. Alright, enough music nerdiness.

There was a time when I thought I would use this blog to post some nice pretty pictures of stars and galaxies. Or space objects in our own solar system: kinda like this one. The thing I love about this asteroid, which is essentially a lump of supersize rock floating around in space, is the crater marks all over it. Imagine this giant rock, its face searing wherever the sunlight touches like a clothes iron held too long on a shirt, and the extreme cold of the shadow gripping upon its dark side, hails of tiny metals crashing upon its once smooth bore surface as it moves through a belt of asteroids.

I love it because it speaks so much about our own lifes. I love it because it mirrors us going through our own little trials, our moments of extremes in both passion and ignorance, our failures, our scars, our endless wandering in search of meaning. It presents a show of strength in its sheer size as a facade, but is vulnerable as the craters testify. Sometimes, that is what we do as well. We walk around with a mask on our faces, our demenour veiled, our tongues censored. We walk as if we were in someone else's shoes, someone we want to be, someone we feel we ought to be. And sometimes, we even kid ourselves and believe it to be true. Is that why we have problems? Would we not have problems if we just live and not lie to ourselves? Would it all be well if we just believe that we are valued just the way we are, and we are not forgotten and insignificant in a world of so many people?

The asteroid continues its journey.

Thick

The air was thick with fog this day; it was thick with heaviness as well, feeling tired and dreary.

***

Dunno really what to write.... just feel like blabbing a while because I can't think of anything to say in my review. What's with this year? It feels like I have made a big wrong/erroneous decision, one after the other.

Nevermind. The rhythm of the world beats on. A monotonous, single syllabic chord.

Error: no title.

Something prompts me to write again. Yes I should sleep. But I just want to write sometimes. Sleep makes me a writer. Thank God I didn't become a writer by profession!

The western night sky never looked more solemn. The night lights burn, lined up row by row along the ground all the way to the horizon, sending shafts of yellow and red reaching up into the dark heavens. They quickly disappear into that blackness, lost in the vast, moonless sky.

I sit with a million and one thoughts in my head; the events of the past three days made certain of that. None that are coherent. Maybe I will just sit and wait. And continue to type rubbish until it comes.

Maybe I will sleep on it. Will ideas hatch like a chicken from an egg when sat on by the hen?

Diana Krall at the End of the Rollercoaster

Diana Krall music somehow seems to sooth the soul for an emo day. As M so brilliantly summed up this day, it has being one big roller coaster ride. Now strapped to my seat at the end of the ride still savouring every turn, bump, drop and climb, figuring out which parts was the most spectacular in order to document and store away deep within the recesses of my mind, I find myself lost in the melodic swirl of her songs. Her voice seems to echo about as it enters my ears, and reverberates through my whole being; every heartbeat in time with the kick and the snare.

There is nothing less ordinary about humble beginnings. Though one would come in to a rollercoaster ride with full expectations of leaving feeling queasy or excited, this day was totally unexpected. Its like being asleep and suddenly waking up to the feeling of being pulled along in a carriage up the steep rails to the top. I woke up feeling like any other morning, tired, full of resentment of having to wake up early despite lack of sleep. I stumbled out of the house with an apple in hand, car keys in the other, and an hour and half of travel to campus ahead.

A lazy seminar later and I was in Seasons sleeping away the ache in my head, my car audio seeming like a lullaby. I woke up to a message from T, and soon was receiving messages from different people as well. A chance meeting with T, a driving lesson or so with M, a movie worth of funny romance stories later and soon the day was half spent, and it had being dreary and slack. The climb to the top has finally being done; now the descent begins.

First was S. S seemed distant and unusually tame, before a torrent of emotion broke out, catching both M and I totally off-guard. I stood transfixed, holding a bottle of coke, jam and nutella in a plastic bag, waiting by the side in the shadows as the two held on to each other. I could hardly fix a thought; all I could do was stand and look away respectfully.

Second was the drive to dinner. The circumstances of S brought to mind my own little three day old circumstance. It brought to mind the end of a dream, a selfish dream. My world came to a halt; deadlines and traffic lights seems to fade away leaving behind only the imagined husk of what I thought would have being. The feeling is emptiness.

Third was a most unexpected sort of call. Y is in hospital, and now surgery is in the works. It might not be serious, but neither is it trivial.

Fourth was another unexpected call, though not for me. It rocked the world for my host, and immediately brought things back to square one. Now comes the time for reminders, and some hard soul-searching.

Yes vague. But vague is good. I once heard someone said that the only reason why shower doors are blurred glass and not just solid opaque doors is because the vagueness accentuated the figure of whoever was inside... yes a little wrong, but yet it made so much sense. Indeed, vagueness is good because it does not block knowledge and recognition of whatever is there, but at the same time provides discrete and interesting disclosure to others who are willing to look. It makes for better storytelling than just total disclosure anyways. As Capote said once: women looked so much better with clothes on.

Okay, enough with the crazy latenight innuendo. I think it prudent for me to go sleep. Tomorrow is another day.