The sound of rhythm

If only the heart could recite poems of joy,
Then what about times of down?
Shall a voice ring out to drown such sorrow,
Or is silence a mistress best kept close?
Slow and long a bell does toll,
Like the funeral march shuffles slowly silently,
Yet the faces gaunt and blank and empty,
How does one express sadness,
When it echoes so deeply inside?

I hate glorification. It seems to me perhaps childish, ignorant and just plain stupid to actually put something up on an altar, and worship it with all your faith, all your life and all your heart. That kind of glorification only leads to blindness, narrow understanding and immature opinions. Just like a lot of things in this world that people tend to glorify: globalisation, technology, religion and a few stupid other things which I need not mention.

Just, if a person believes in something so much, that when it is not true, what happens next?

Yeah, I remember now.

The invincibility of youth. Interesting enough that perhaps, young people, especially those air headed enough like me, are shrouded by a pseudo-aura of indestructible invincibility. Nothing could touch us in our shell. Just like how bullets would hit Superman's chest and bounce of harmlessly, perhaps youths, in particular me, do not have a fear of death, but instead have this perverse conception that death is beatable and that whatever happens, happens out there. Perhaps such suicidal tendencies are not meant for people after all. When I go out, there is hardly a worry of the SARS virus striking, believing that my own immune system is more than enough to suppress death. It is perhaps foolish to believe in one's own immortality, but then what else is there to believe in?

I was thinking what to type, then I lost it. Damn.

I need a hobby. This suggestion came to me from a friend, who ironically is more despondent, more gloomy and more passive than I am. So it means I have sunk this low, until perhaps, even that kind of advice I cannot give to myself, much less others.

So I need something to do now. Something that makes me at least content with what I have. Days drag on in an endless monotone of black, white and grey that I would rejoice even at a lamely coloured clown. Life sucks, it really does. And its rather my fault that I don't do anything about it. Actually there's nothing that can be done about it, with a life as bleak as mine, to find time for myself to do the things I want and to chase the dreams I dream of is, well just utter rubbish and crap. I always believed in following my heart, because I never wanted to regret the future. So now I look back on my past logically, and I find myself not acting rationally, but then its fine with me, because I cannot change the past, and there's utterly no feeling of regret. That's thinking logically.

Someone said I was passive. I prefer the word inert. Its much more me, and it doesn't make me sound like a total wimp. But yeah, I admit, I am passive. No drive, nor passion to do anything, but scorn my past. Yes, the scorn of the evil evil bitch that made my life hell, approx 11 months ago. Yes, read back on my archives. And now its that time of the year again when she wishes to make people suffer again.

And thus I have thoughts of death. Killing self, killing people, and killing life. Okay, not just murder, but also gory twisted death in its utmost peversed fashion that reminds us people, that even humans are capable of great evil. What's with this moody thing? I don't know, I feel dead inside already. I am like a dead man walking. There is no life.

Democracy has always been a weak process. Its not that I am in favour of a more sadistic version of anarchy or dictatorship, but democracy has sunk to the depths of where it seems to me as a squabbling between folks who would get nothing done, because everything must be based on a majority consensus if not the mutual agreement of all parties.

Look at Bush's election results. I don't know the exact figures actually, but to think that a vast majority of Americans did not vote, I guess it is open to anyone's guess whether the election results were fair or not.

But other than that, I wonder to what extent is democracy practiced. Is forced voting a form of democracy? Or rather exacting some sort of twisted dictatorship where one cannot abstain from this corrupt, degrading and insane practice?

You know, its that time of the year again, when the mantle is passed on to the new generation in a grand gala celebration, and that there would be great rejoicing in the coming in of the new leaders of the school, and the entire student population stands by in awe at the ascendence of the bright stars of the school.

Yup, in spite of all my sarcasm, I cannot hide the fact that the Student Council elections are nothing more than a fanfare of immense pretense and parading of unsuspecting comedians. Today, I had the immeasurable experience of listening to nothing more than empty repeated promises, lame jokes, embarrassing presentations and more often than not, misunderstood answers. I quote, "I will not make empty promises. I will make more activities, I will make this school a better place." Wait a minute, isn't that a promise? Or what about the one that went, "This speech is impromptu!" and the idiot proceeded to take out a prop.

Somehow a lot of things just escape me. Just like the failure of the current Student Council, just like how some things never change, just like how a lot of things do not affect me, or impact me. Just like how they need our support, and they say they can make a difference. There are a lot of conflicting beliefs, and a lot of misguided intents. Ultimately it is like what a friend said, it is like a Russian cocktail party, where everyone gathers around and congratulates each other for something that was never done.

Again they come. Demons standing beside my bed, fighting, arguing and leering. They want to claim me. They want to take me away. I shut my eyes, and pretend I never saw them, but They know I know that They're there. They know I'm afraid of them. And though I shut my eyes to their leathery wings, sharp talons, drooling cavities of vicious teeth and grotesque physique, I cannot shut my ears to insane gibberish, low chanting and screeching laughter.

Then I wonder whether tonight is the night They will take me. But every morning They're gone. It doesn't matter, They'll be back tonight. Just that They go hiding in the day, plotting, scheming and thwarting. Every night They come, and I fight to keep my mind and my life. Each morning I awake tired from each victory, but the battles make me weary. But then They will come back. They always have. And then one night, They will take something with them. I hope it is not tonight.

I just watched Shrek, and I guess I can say that I am enlightened.

Although you may wonder what does this comedy movie full of offensive adult sick jokes may have to do with enlightenment, it does skew the way I look at the world and the way I look at myself. "An ogre is like an onion." Well, I guess I am like an onion too. It also means that I am like an ogre too, the way I look at things. Yeah, a big dumb ugly stupid ogre.

Okay, what's with this great depressing sense of lack of self worth? I don't know. There are some days when my ego is so great that nothing can stop me. And there are some days when I'm down in the crap hole. But enough psychoanalysis about me, perhaps that's how I've always been looking at myself all this while. It makes things a lot easier to accept when I am the slime wiped off the gutter, because everything that happens to me, no matter how bad or how unfair, I just take it easily because after all, what's worse than being the slime wiped off the gutter? That's relativity. When everything is crap, even the slightest bit of non-crap, would seem like a miracle. Somehow I wonder if I am just deluding myself.

I remember a movie I watched when I was young. Not to say that I am not young now, but I was younger. It was The Neverending Story. I remember vaguely about a boy who went to another magical land, and met a lot of strange things including a flying dog, Falco. I also remember the sequel. Towards the end, this boy went back to this land, and had to stop this evil queen from completely destroying that magical world and his memories. He was given wishes, but at a price. For every wish he made, he would lose a part of his memory, until he had none left. And when he has none left, he could never remember who he was, and he could never return to his home. So upon facing the queen, with the magical world crumbling around him, he made his last wish. And I feel it was wise, and it left a deep lasting impression on me.

"I wish for you to have a heart."

Sometimes I don't know why I bother. It has come to that recently, when I noticed that I've done nothing constructive with my current sudden influx of free time. I have not found the answers to the questions I was looking for, I have not done the things I wished to do. So I guess there is some bitter regret.

What have I accomplished throughout these few days where I have nothing to worry about except a nagging math test? Nothing much I guess. Much of my life has been spent bumming around. Perhaps I should continue sleeping.

The Awakening

Life is beautiful,
Through the eyes of a child,
As innocence lends its veil,
To lighten the darkest of hearts.

But when everything is made,
To be broken,
Shattered faith and broken hopes,
World fades to black.

Hidden feelings, unspoken thoughts,
If but there be secrets kept,
Nothing needs to be said,
Nothing needs to be felt.

Onwards through the journey of life,
No respite from deceit or pain,
Except to the second star on the right,
And straight on till sunrise.

I've sobered up. I got up and got rid of my crap a while ago, so hopefully I can make a serious post. I hope I can make this one succint. But I guess I was inebriated with the eloquence of my own verbosity.

Today, I was standing in an orange orchard surrounded only by greenery and the blue sky. When I casted my eyes up to the heavens above, I had a glimpse of a line of white birds flying in a wake formation towards the west. It was beautiful to watch them soar effortlessly in front of my eyes. But then, somewhere at the back of my mind, a voice said, "You know, in physics of fluids, the birds fly in each others wake to conserve energy as the air is moving..."

Yup, that completely spoilt the mood.