It is an ironic struggle of man: to make life easy to understand but sophicated enough to enjoy. The brain feeds on novelty, while the heart sings only to simplictic ideals.
Perhaps this is why societies are formed from families: keep the fireworks close but the fire closer.
In the jungle of complicated human networks, our emotional capacity can only manage a small feature of the greenery. The patch of dirt that we never want changed. Yet we still secretly long for surprises, if only to be frustrated by it.
Then from our tiny patches in the jungle, we reach out to touch our neighbors with our roots holding our hands. If we are lucky, we'll find other plants to hold our hands.
The tiny connections often sleep in a larger nest of uncertain motives. The little movements cannot possibly fathom the larger influences which carry it along. Only much later can these motives be understood.
As time washes away the burdensome details, our mind slowly painting back the emotional content of what transpired. Gradually, we wrap ourselves in untruths that warm our starving souls. Stomachs are easy to fill but hearts growl forever. Armed with our imagination and brushes made from the most painful memories, we cover the world in shades of anger and joy, dipping into the palette of lies that were taught. Only the bravest ones mix their own colors.
We are all artists in a way. Painting the saddest, most complex, intricate and breathtaking mural known to this blue world.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
We want to believe
Fools choose to believe, others just choose and believe. When is it too late to be a fool?
.......
It is a familiarity that transcends reason: you have experienced it before, although you can't possibly have. Something longing something fonder. Insert the appropriate obsession.
It has been told in movies, described within novels, ripened legends and myths, inspired songs for millennia, molded almost every adolescence with an idle luxury for imagination. Surely, you must recognize it.
Someone once told me that the first love is the only love. You'll spend the rest of your life attempting to recreate it.
An ignorant heart can paint even darkest skies with rainbows. Or perhaps novelty just sweetens the dullest gestures. A combination of both, I suppose, can create the best puppy love. But you'll only get to use it once. Time and reality are the two daggers that will murder every naiveness you have.
I still think that all this is wrong. I still want to be the fool. Even when life wrinkles my smile. For what else is worthy enough to move on to?
.......
It is a familiarity that transcends reason: you have experienced it before, although you can't possibly have. Something longing something fonder. Insert the appropriate obsession.
It has been told in movies, described within novels, ripened legends and myths, inspired songs for millennia, molded almost every adolescence with an idle luxury for imagination. Surely, you must recognize it.
Someone once told me that the first love is the only love. You'll spend the rest of your life attempting to recreate it.
An ignorant heart can paint even darkest skies with rainbows. Or perhaps novelty just sweetens the dullest gestures. A combination of both, I suppose, can create the best puppy love. But you'll only get to use it once. Time and reality are the two daggers that will murder every naiveness you have.
I still think that all this is wrong. I still want to be the fool. Even when life wrinkles my smile. For what else is worthy enough to move on to?
Finally Free
From the dark lonely I flee.
Hide away, poor startled soul,
a decrepit shell powerless and cold.
A secret pleasure takes it toll,
years of solitude I stole.
In quiet pillows screams of pain,
tears clawing the violin in my brain.
Ugly dreams roused my sleep,
I learnt that even sweat, shouts and shrieks.
Fall through winter, heart's asleep,
it finds comfort in the snow and sleet.
Pure white crestfallen from heaven,
friend of mine, Melancholy,
froze the deep winter asleep.
Why clench the cruel past?
Ruler I am, in a kingdom of none.
Why shy from other souls?
I carry a baggage from which people shun.
Why fear when others extol?
Too bright a sun can be hateful to behold.
Damn the propensities! Damn the cold!
From the dark lonely I flee.
One day I will finally be free.
Hide away, poor startled soul,
a decrepit shell powerless and cold.
A secret pleasure takes it toll,
years of solitude I stole.
In quiet pillows screams of pain,
tears clawing the violin in my brain.
Ugly dreams roused my sleep,
I learnt that even sweat, shouts and shrieks.
Fall through winter, heart's asleep,
it finds comfort in the snow and sleet.
Pure white crestfallen from heaven,
friend of mine, Melancholy,
froze the deep winter asleep.
Why clench the cruel past?
Ruler I am, in a kingdom of none.
Why shy from other souls?
I carry a baggage from which people shun.
Why fear when others extol?
Too bright a sun can be hateful to behold.
Damn the propensities! Damn the cold!
From the dark lonely I flee.
One day I will finally be free.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
A distant hope
5am and woken to a pulsating despair.
Yet another dream that he did not want. Not a nightmare, he's certain. Or so he tells himself. But enough anger and fear were mixed in that his emotions were stirred.
He wishes for a reality that only his mind can afford. But he always wakes up just when it starts to sweeten. He begins to think that life, like his dreams, take on this pattern. Like a carrot dangling before a famished mind.
5am. Birds always chirp at 5am. They must have a large carrot.
Yet another dream that he did not want. Not a nightmare, he's certain. Or so he tells himself. But enough anger and fear were mixed in that his emotions were stirred.
He wishes for a reality that only his mind can afford. But he always wakes up just when it starts to sweeten. He begins to think that life, like his dreams, take on this pattern. Like a carrot dangling before a famished mind.
5am. Birds always chirp at 5am. They must have a large carrot.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Silent Night
Warm air slips into the room, kindling the sleeplessness that lies on the pillow. Another lonely night in the confines of his tiny room. He consoles himself with the cushy bed.
"Hey, at least I get to do whatever I want."
He finds warmth only in the balmy summer air. The heavy air suffocates his thoughts. An uncertain reverie pulls the consciousness away from his troubled life.
"Hey, at least I get to do whatever I want."
He finds warmth only in the balmy summer air. The heavy air suffocates his thoughts. An uncertain reverie pulls the consciousness away from his troubled life.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Simple Pleasures
Often experienced:
Being in the Shade on a hot day.
An email from a friend far away.
A soft pillow and the scent of fresh sheets.
The fur of a cat or dog against your shin.
Serenity of a lake at 6am in the morning.
The snooze button.
Sunday naps.
Recently discovered:
A juicy pear at the end of a run.
Being in the Shade on a hot day.
An email from a friend far away.
A soft pillow and the scent of fresh sheets.
The fur of a cat or dog against your shin.
Serenity of a lake at 6am in the morning.
The snooze button.
Sunday naps.
Recently discovered:
A juicy pear at the end of a run.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
I think I can
I ...
am a hypocrite but sometimes I try to be humble.
am rude but I usually try to be polite.
ask questions which people don't always want to hear, only to have their offence remind me of my etiquette.
have extremely intelligent colleauges who make me feel worthless from time to time.
waste away most of my day but I want people to think that I am somewhat productive.
hate reading but I do it because I want to reap its benefits. I love to know more, but I'm lazy to find out.
never had a close friend even though I've always wanted one.
love my family but I see them only for a month each year.
cannot remember the last time I laughed because I was happy.
love my dog and the day of his death still haunts me today.
hate to lose so I avoid confrontation.
am socially inept: inconsiderate, loud, careless, irrelevant, aggravating. I think I will be my worst social encounter if I hadn't already met myself.
don't know the purpose of my life even though I think about it all the time.
But I am foolish enough to think that I can change all these.
am a hypocrite but sometimes I try to be humble.
am rude but I usually try to be polite.
ask questions which people don't always want to hear, only to have their offence remind me of my etiquette.
have extremely intelligent colleauges who make me feel worthless from time to time.
waste away most of my day but I want people to think that I am somewhat productive.
hate reading but I do it because I want to reap its benefits. I love to know more, but I'm lazy to find out.
never had a close friend even though I've always wanted one.
love my family but I see them only for a month each year.
cannot remember the last time I laughed because I was happy.
love my dog and the day of his death still haunts me today.
hate to lose so I avoid confrontation.
am socially inept: inconsiderate, loud, careless, irrelevant, aggravating. I think I will be my worst social encounter if I hadn't already met myself.
don't know the purpose of my life even though I think about it all the time.
But I am foolish enough to think that I can change all these.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Captured
We are but aged into a trap lacking doors.
The crimson rose fades unnoticeably into a sinking red.
What keeps us going is the unbearable slowness of change, and the foolishness to ignore the inevitable.
The crimson rose fades unnoticeably into a sinking red.
What keeps us going is the unbearable slowness of change, and the foolishness to ignore the inevitable.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Musings on Mirrors
Every single drop of water on the lotus leaf is a beautiful reflection of yourself. However, the size of the droplet determines the curvature of the droplet: the larger droplets have trouble staying spherical. This in turn provides a range of mirrors to view yourself.
You know from a distance that the reflections on the drops hold detail to yourself; yet if you are lazy, these details would elude you.
Every new droplet you encounter is enthralling, if not for the different shape, then for the way it sits differently on the leaf. However, you always still see your own reflection somewhere along the way.
I like to think of the drops of water as friends of various social capacities. The larger ones would be the more generous friends who would show you more of yourself.
I am but a small drop now. The reflections of the rest of the world on me are still too small to be visible. The clear details I add to the collection are but my own: I see myself in others but others can't see themselves in me.
The dent I make on the leaf is fairly small and so I can be anywhere without significantly changing the arrangement of the droplets.
Some droplets live for other droplets. The see merely the other droplets on the leaf but not realize the leaf which supports this social network.
Others try hard to cluster into a larger droplet so that they can commandeer more mass and curve the leaf, thus dictating the movement of neighboring droplets.
I don't collect easily with other groups of droplets. I find it difficult to move around if I did. I would prefer milling about some portion of the leaf appreciating the local intricacies below me. But then again, I lead a "narrow" existence, as many others would educate me.
However, a spattering of droplets on a leaf would yield droplets of all sizes. My tiny size is but a member of the inevitable distribution.
I am not the one to reflect on the outlook and behavior of another droplet. Just like I'm not the one to tell you who you should be and how you should behave. I'm just not aptly shaped for such a task. I'm merely content in discovering my true self.
My small footprint in this leaf also makes it difficult to see myself. This constraint, however, changes my outlook: for I am constantly seeking a suitable droplet to mirror myself.
You know from a distance that the reflections on the drops hold detail to yourself; yet if you are lazy, these details would elude you.
Every new droplet you encounter is enthralling, if not for the different shape, then for the way it sits differently on the leaf. However, you always still see your own reflection somewhere along the way.
I like to think of the drops of water as friends of various social capacities. The larger ones would be the more generous friends who would show you more of yourself.
I am but a small drop now. The reflections of the rest of the world on me are still too small to be visible. The clear details I add to the collection are but my own: I see myself in others but others can't see themselves in me.
The dent I make on the leaf is fairly small and so I can be anywhere without significantly changing the arrangement of the droplets.
Some droplets live for other droplets. The see merely the other droplets on the leaf but not realize the leaf which supports this social network.
Others try hard to cluster into a larger droplet so that they can commandeer more mass and curve the leaf, thus dictating the movement of neighboring droplets.
I don't collect easily with other groups of droplets. I find it difficult to move around if I did. I would prefer milling about some portion of the leaf appreciating the local intricacies below me. But then again, I lead a "narrow" existence, as many others would educate me.
However, a spattering of droplets on a leaf would yield droplets of all sizes. My tiny size is but a member of the inevitable distribution.
I am not the one to reflect on the outlook and behavior of another droplet. Just like I'm not the one to tell you who you should be and how you should behave. I'm just not aptly shaped for such a task. I'm merely content in discovering my true self.
My small footprint in this leaf also makes it difficult to see myself. This constraint, however, changes my outlook: for I am constantly seeking a suitable droplet to mirror myself.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Another day of procrastination
What have I acheived today?
Learnt the nature of my new project.
Got confused about a diffraction experimental setup.
Realized I have forgotten the Weiner-Kinchin Theorem.
Argued wrongfully that fractal dimensions are useless.
Made a fool out of myself for the previous point.
Learnt random trivia about parsimony, lambda calculus, SAIDS, HPVs..etc
In summary, I did nothing at all. Things need to change.
Just like the picture: part of the goal is clear yet obscured by a foliage of procrastination.
Learnt the nature of my new project.
Got confused about a diffraction experimental setup.
Realized I have forgotten the Weiner-Kinchin Theorem.
Argued wrongfully that fractal dimensions are useless.
Made a fool out of myself for the previous point.
Learnt random trivia about parsimony, lambda calculus, SAIDS, HPVs..etc
In summary, I did nothing at all. Things need to change.
Just like the picture: part of the goal is clear yet obscured by a foliage of procrastination.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Settle
Finally acknowledged a reality different from my expectations. Held to a tenuous hope threaded with ignorance and denial. Any unraveling is quickly patched by another insufficiency. Of course, I have to keep this in the abstract: not for fear of revealing a dark secret, but to keep the details from exasperating me.
Certain goals in life can be fulfilled with diligence, wit and luck. Yet there will be intangible luxuries which accepts only luck. No matter how hard you try, your desire will only be frustrated.
I embrace an impractical naviety. However this same foolishness warms the moments before I drift to sleep. I ask of the impossible. What I wish will eventually consume me and destroy the little equanimity I have regained.
The mind admonishes the gullibility which the heart cannot forget.
Perhaps there will be a solution.
Perhaps things will turn out well.
Perhaps matters will take care of themselves.
Perhaps things can only go up for hereon.
Perhaps you will receive more understanding.
Perhaps you will live up to the expectations.
Perhaps none of this will happen.
Perhaps the end of the road will be a closed door.
Perhaps my best friend lives in a pint.
Perhaps I will vanish before the emptiness gets to me.
But for now, the threads of self-deception will be stored for another time; another occassion to live in self-denial.
I have no answers to how my life proposes to proceed. Advice from another person's experiences are reference points to a prototypical life I do not want.
But I might have to give up the fight soon. I'll settle for just another grazing animal in the serengeti of life.
Certain goals in life can be fulfilled with diligence, wit and luck. Yet there will be intangible luxuries which accepts only luck. No matter how hard you try, your desire will only be frustrated.
I embrace an impractical naviety. However this same foolishness warms the moments before I drift to sleep. I ask of the impossible. What I wish will eventually consume me and destroy the little equanimity I have regained.
The mind admonishes the gullibility which the heart cannot forget.
Perhaps there will be a solution.
Perhaps things will turn out well.
Perhaps matters will take care of themselves.
Perhaps things can only go up for hereon.
Perhaps you will receive more understanding.
Perhaps you will live up to the expectations.
Perhaps none of this will happen.
Perhaps the end of the road will be a closed door.
Perhaps my best friend lives in a pint.
Perhaps I will vanish before the emptiness gets to me.
But for now, the threads of self-deception will be stored for another time; another occassion to live in self-denial.
I have no answers to how my life proposes to proceed. Advice from another person's experiences are reference points to a prototypical life I do not want.
But I might have to give up the fight soon. I'll settle for just another grazing animal in the serengeti of life.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Slipped a little; to eventually find stability.
Thank you for the encouragement.
Dire as the circumstances which find you, may you make the better of them with courage.
I know you will regain your balance and emerge stronger.
Dire as the circumstances which find you, may you make the better of them with courage.
I know you will regain your balance and emerge stronger.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Bearings
好久没以中文书写了。试一试。
最近生活非常忙碌。研究与日文课占据了大半的时间。得到周末方能安心的睡。常常与时间赛跑；也都常常败。
因该感觉很充实的。心中却始终存有个空虚。
曾经认为生命的真谛就珍藏在人与人之间的坦诚，爱护。如今人在情薄的异乡，自立心较强，情操的幅度也得相对的减弱。空虚的感觉也似乎扩散了一些。欲强是否也就得承受孤单呢？
My world is unravelling. I hope that there would be a spot left to stand on when it's done falling apart.
Very often, I seek a simplicity which my life simply can't sustain. I suspect that is what a partner is supposed provide. I wonder how long it will last? Probably long enough to deceive both individuals to give marriage a shot. I know I am lame in thinking about starting a family now. But I'm turning 27 this year and such intermittent thoughts are inevitable.
But tonight, I will go home where an empty room, and the scent of sleepy bedsheets will greet me. Of course, that would probably be 4am in the morning again.
I am a little tired. Nothing seems to possible now. I just wish that someone would know.
最近生活非常忙碌。研究与日文课占据了大半的时间。得到周末方能安心的睡。常常与时间赛跑；也都常常败。
因该感觉很充实的。心中却始终存有个空虚。
曾经认为生命的真谛就珍藏在人与人之间的坦诚，爱护。如今人在情薄的异乡，自立心较强，情操的幅度也得相对的减弱。空虚的感觉也似乎扩散了一些。欲强是否也就得承受孤单呢？
My world is unravelling. I hope that there would be a spot left to stand on when it's done falling apart.
Very often, I seek a simplicity which my life simply can't sustain. I suspect that is what a partner is supposed provide. I wonder how long it will last? Probably long enough to deceive both individuals to give marriage a shot. I know I am lame in thinking about starting a family now. But I'm turning 27 this year and such intermittent thoughts are inevitable.
But tonight, I will go home where an empty room, and the scent of sleepy bedsheets will greet me. Of course, that would probably be 4am in the morning again.
I am a little tired. Nothing seems to possible now. I just wish that someone would know.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Ever seen a lotus bloom?
It starts as a plump pristine bud.
You have heard of such temptation. Some call it love, others dismiss it as frivolity.
The way its pink fades into white on the bud is unmistakably seductive.
Yet you undeniably sense the sensual attractions.
The size of the bud promises a spectacular bloom.
You see visions of happiness and feel spurs of romance.
The lotus bud sits quietly in the water, proudly ignoring the garnered attention.
You find yourself coaxing her into opening up; out of curiosity.
Over a few days, the petals yawn and stretch outwards.
Your attention is reciprocated. The temptation is real and the brakes stopped working long ago.
The bud unravels from its top, undressing itself petal by petal, revealing a dreamlike white resting within.
The more you learn about her, the stronger the attraction.
The outer petals start to wilt as the fragrance escapes. Although the bloom is imminent, one should not peel or pry at the petals to encourage it. Such impatience would only taint the blossom.
This is the best part of the love which you remember. The only thing you will carry with you years after you've stopped talking to each other.
You have heard of such temptation. Some call it love, others dismiss it as frivolity.
The way its pink fades into white on the bud is unmistakably seductive.
Yet you undeniably sense the sensual attractions.
The size of the bud promises a spectacular bloom.
You see visions of happiness and feel spurs of romance.
The lotus bud sits quietly in the water, proudly ignoring the garnered attention.
You find yourself coaxing her into opening up; out of curiosity.
Over a few days, the petals yawn and stretch outwards.
Your attention is reciprocated. The temptation is real and the brakes stopped working long ago.
The bud unravels from its top, undressing itself petal by petal, revealing a dreamlike white resting within.
The more you learn about her, the stronger the attraction.
The outer petals start to wilt as the fragrance escapes. Although the bloom is imminent, one should not peel or pry at the petals to encourage it. Such impatience would only taint the blossom.
This is the best part of the love which you remember. The only thing you will carry with you years after you've stopped talking to each other.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Friendship
Frienship is an oddity.
It used to excite, but superficially. Any keenness elicited came from novelty.
Enthusiasm bled away from the novelty, leaving am empty apologetic memory.
Used to be friends; marred by a misunderstanding. Now, we hardly talk, fearful of mentioning the tainted past.
Used to tell each other everything; separated by time and distance. Now we have only shallow conversations, uncertain of what is relevant.
Some friendships remind us of volatile bonds. How long do good things last?
Some incessantly deride our willingness to trust. "Oh, you hurt yourself? Told you so."
Some make us shudder like the essay you wrote in high school which you obviously tried too hard to impress.
I think half of my present thinks about the past.
Seriously Andrew, how can you like this writing? It depresses so much.
It used to excite, but superficially. Any keenness elicited came from novelty.
Enthusiasm bled away from the novelty, leaving am empty apologetic memory.
Used to be friends; marred by a misunderstanding. Now, we hardly talk, fearful of mentioning the tainted past.
Used to tell each other everything; separated by time and distance. Now we have only shallow conversations, uncertain of what is relevant.
Some friendships remind us of volatile bonds. How long do good things last?
Some incessantly deride our willingness to trust. "Oh, you hurt yourself? Told you so."
Some make us shudder like the essay you wrote in high school which you obviously tried too hard to impress.
I think half of my present thinks about the past.
Seriously Andrew, how can you like this writing? It depresses so much.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Pick your Hand
We don't get to pick our cards before we are born.
I like to think that we do after birth.
With the card facing down, of course, just like this picture. We learn the choices we make when we turn and assemble the cards.
How do we pick then? We assign superfluous meanings to the back of cards. Lazy? Get the Dealer to pick. Of course, the card game that is life, has an exception: you never know how many decks there are.
A single card does not make a good hand. Alternatively, it can break a good one when you are a perfectionist.
In Blackjack; Greed.
Dog. Bone. Reflection.
Should we resign to the odds?
We sometimes get tired of playing and instead share our deck with another. Compare. Share?
When everyone gets into a pair, the odds of the game suddenly change.
The strength of the cooperation depends on honesty and willingness to share cards. Will you show me your real hand? How should we split the earnings?
It was fun while we thought about the possible hands. And then there is the drama of getting your own cards back.
Secretly trading cards with a third party? Adultery? Depending on the rules you have with your "rightful" partner, they might never know.
What if they find out? Anger replies: why did you violate our trust to better your cards? What is different about the trust between spouses and partners in poker?
I wonder if I'll ever show my cards to another player again. I doubt I can deal with the hassle. At least for now.
I like to think that we do after birth.
With the card facing down, of course, just like this picture. We learn the choices we make when we turn and assemble the cards.
How do we pick then? We assign superfluous meanings to the back of cards. Lazy? Get the Dealer to pick. Of course, the card game that is life, has an exception: you never know how many decks there are.
A single card does not make a good hand. Alternatively, it can break a good one when you are a perfectionist.
In Blackjack; Greed.
Dog. Bone. Reflection.
Should we resign to the odds?
We sometimes get tired of playing and instead share our deck with another. Compare. Share?
When everyone gets into a pair, the odds of the game suddenly change.
The strength of the cooperation depends on honesty and willingness to share cards. Will you show me your real hand? How should we split the earnings?
It was fun while we thought about the possible hands. And then there is the drama of getting your own cards back.
Secretly trading cards with a third party? Adultery? Depending on the rules you have with your "rightful" partner, they might never know.
What if they find out? Anger replies: why did you violate our trust to better your cards? What is different about the trust between spouses and partners in poker?
I wonder if I'll ever show my cards to another player again. I doubt I can deal with the hassle. At least for now.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Old man and the river
Once in a while, I wonder another person might be thinking.
From his or her perspective, guessing their life story and relating it to their facial expression and behavior, coalescing into a single thought at the moment.
Naturally, such an exercise is doomed to be incorrect, but more often than not, it betrays the apprehensions and anticipations that I hold.
Perhaps this old gentleman is reflecting on the extent his country has changed in his lifetime. The clash of the old and new, popular and obsolete is omnipresent.
Of course, the only thought that crossed my mind when I took this picture was how to avoid being noticed. Tendays thereafter, I realize that I too share this awkwardness.
Home, is but a memory we hold and not the place we seek.
From his or her perspective, guessing their life story and relating it to their facial expression and behavior, coalescing into a single thought at the moment.
Naturally, such an exercise is doomed to be incorrect, but more often than not, it betrays the apprehensions and anticipations that I hold.
Perhaps this old gentleman is reflecting on the extent his country has changed in his lifetime. The clash of the old and new, popular and obsolete is omnipresent.
Of course, the only thought that crossed my mind when I took this picture was how to avoid being noticed. Tendays thereafter, I realize that I too share this awkwardness.
Home, is but a memory we hold and not the place we seek.
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