Mita

My dear Mita, you have no idea what impact you have made on my life. You were one of the few people I was actually moved to be friends with; I simply had to have you in my life, when I saw you back in college. You were smart, so incredibly smart. And that smile of yours, so contagious. Your presence, soft, silent, but reassuring. And to this very day, how we managed to maintain contact is something I'm highly thankful for. I cannot understand how you - no matter how tired or busy you were - could still make yourself available to me when I'm in need of help at work. I cannot understand how we were only just in the company of each other barely two weeks ago, and now you're gone. You didn't have to leave so sudden and soon, you know? More people like me yearn to have a friend like you in their lives. Words can only do so much, for to fit my feelings into sentences is like trying to take a photograph of the colossal galaxy. I can only try my hardest to understand, that things like this just happen. And they can happen at anytime, to anyone. This time, it hit a little too close to my heart. You will be remembered, forever.

Us, 2011

6 Months Later...

I do not know where the urge to put out another post came from but here I am, at another work desk, typing as if my life depended on it. It's amazing, how quite a number of things have occurred and didn't in the past 6 months since the last post. How has it been? Mediocre, according to a perspective; quite thrilling, according to Perspective Two. 

Perspective One insists that there could have been more substance, more...magic. 

"Productivity, you mean," said Perspective Two. "Which you did achieve, to some level. You put out two songs - one went viral, released a music video, played a handful of shows, and you quit your job then took on Cambodia. Celebrated your birthday, got back on radio for 4 weeks, chilled out for 3 months and threw all cares to the winds. I'd say that was quite something. Now, you're two months back in on a desk job and you don't really have much to complain about. So, shut up, One!" 

"But a lot of bigger things could have taken place! You were so, very lazy," said Perspective One, always careful, sensible, dissatisfied. 

Perspectives, arguing it all out, all the time. Some fights can be rather entertaining, particularly as the numbers grow. I remember playing witness to the time when Perspectives Two, Six, and Seven had a go at each other...what an interesting day that was. 

I never meant for this post to go in this warped out direction about the perspectives but that's the thing about freewriting, you just let your mind lead your fingers where it wants to go. Sort of like how someone charges up to you as you were having a cup of coffee and exclaims in your face, "You have to listen to this! Hand me your phone, let me search it for you. I believe this can really inspire you!"

   

And he didn't even know me, really, really know me. Flattering, in a way. Sometimes it feels good to just let things happen on their own accord. We all know, deep down inside that most things naturally fall into and out of place by themselves and for some of these instances, it's nice.

Bibelot

And again we shall attempt to churn out a post out of boredom. Senseless ennui, as I always like to call it.

Today gripped me in confusing ways. I am calm, despite the blow that was the 23rd of January, yet I am bored. The earphones are starting to feel like they're a part of my head, and the sounds that come from them, though not as good as what good speakers are capable of, are not moving me at all. I know not anymore what is a good song and what is not, not with these earphones. A dissolution from over-saturation. Try doing what I've been doing at this table for the past 3 months and you'll probably end up here too.

Hello. Was the journey as sluggish and dreary as mine?

Oh, writing. Drama. Exaggeration without an intention to do so nor knowing why we do so. Of course none of it really matters. In fact, matters like this post on this blog do not matter at all, for I am my one and only audience. Yet I put this out. Why?

Because it is more convenient to type and erase and add and subtract. And seeing that I can't have anything close to a proper conversation these days due to the absence of mortal company/ beating-heart presence, the urge for any form of closure has to be appeased and made manifest here. Please note that I now admit to possible incoherence in my sentences. 

Foreseen, a particular natural query that others are apt to question upon arrival at such posts - precarious, dangerous, personal,  quite inappropriate, and redundant. Why? Regardless of subjective opinions put forth by varying individuals, I personally think that the only justification to my behaviour is aided by my certain propensity to the idea of this outward spewing of nonverbals - whether it is making sense, substantial, and agreeable, or not - to the vast unknown of viable knowns and unknowns. Doing so builds and even accentuates an unmistakable yet discreet sense of inner, unvoiced satisfaction and fulfillment of detachment. Not very unlike allowing the masses to read up on your memoir. Again, I'd like to emphasize that although varying (subjective) opinions/judgments are freely formed and stubbornly stood by, it is, however, profoundly recommended that said opinions and the like be set aside prior to engagement of action (reading). 

And yeah, because you want it out in the open instead of stashed in one of the many notebooks you've bought in your muddled past, and ultimately forgotten in the dust of time, right? There I go again, writing. Drama. Exaggerated drama in writing. Where's that moleskine that's still devoid of content, anyway? Remind me to go home and find it. But do we have time?

Time has lately been cruelly divided into portions uneven and ridiculous for me. I spend a total of up to 4 hours sitting in a crawl on a highway amongst other people sitting in the same crawl on the same highway, every day. And in between that, I sit on a chair at a table with little to no work to do, every day. Then, I am left with the final few hours of the weekdays for things I need more time to do but the productivity in these final few hours will never be fully harnessed, not after dealing with all the demotivation from the stagnant, major prior portion of time spent sitting down not being able to do anything else unless it is work-related. See how it is all so unfair?

Stop.

Look up and around. Inhale with your eyes the fluorescent lights that fill up the space around you and then close them, your eyes. Now open. It's 4.30PM. You have one more hour. You now have a choice to continue stringing together notions in the form of weak sentences, or to venture further into the depths of the internet in search of another entertainment armed well enough to kill off an hour.

Come, let's google conspiracy theories.

Note to mae

Whatever you do, do NOT forget that final week of 2012.