Autumn Leaves

Sometimes, as I write, I cannot fully give form to my thoughts/ideas, and I realize that it is because I miss the people I'm writing to. (or am I really missing the people themselves, and not just the shared sense of near unconditional acceptance, or the openness and lack of barriers in conversation, or camaderie in a time of minimal stress/pressure? or what?) And as ironic as it seems, yes, sometimes I cannot bring myself to call or email or write to them or suchlike.

Why is this so? Is it because I cannot deal with the fact that sometimes I am somewhat dependent on some people, emotionally? Or is it because I don't want to burden those people, even when I know we stand well with each other? or don't know if should be sharing here and there -- balance? to the point where being physically incapacitated? shouldn't be, but not quite immobilized, but.. on the way there.

So in my ancient and medieval philosophy class, we've been reading several works by Plato, Aristotle, and other classic philosophers. Some of the views held the ancient Greeks make me think men, as in males, hold some of the most despicable views on the relation of the sexes. I wouldn't consider myself a feminist, as I find that subscribing to feminist views relies on blindly ignoring several natural facts of life, so I believe that women should be treated with respect and should share in equality of opportunities that improve the nature of their beings. I do, however, wonder why women of these works, or even also of history, didn't protest. Was it because men used violence to subordinate them? Most likely so...

Humankind is indeed doomed without true love and light. We as a whole and as individuals are susceptible and fall to so many things.. it's utterly crazy and ridiculous.

Haunts are only haunts if you let them such be.

This isn't a particularly special thought that I'm about to share (not that other ones are), but I was reminded that entities aren't always as cool as they seem, and some don't seem as cool as they are. So much for prejudgment based in an incomplete set of outward factors, haha. 'twas comical in a sense, actually.

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So all of the above are thoughts collected from perhaps the last few weeks of September and the first few weeks of October. More sit up in the mental depository, but they have to swirl around for a bit before taking form and presenting themselves here, so until then, good bye.

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STOP.

Have you ever had dreams in which the course of events occurs so quickly and becomes increasingly worse to the point where it feels as if you know you're encompassed in alternate reality (or not?), but at that very time it is physically strenuous to break out of it? I experienced such this afternoon, but I have no idea how those issues that seem to have been plaguing my mind arrived there. It was curious, indeed, seeing things pop up in my mind that I hadn't consciously thought of in a long time.

^ That was two weeks ago... since then, I've found also that dreams can be scary, or objectively speaking, useful, in what they reveal about one's inner desires.

Caution and control!

courtesy of http://www.banklawyersblog.com

Haha, funny picture.

The feeling I had before that I needed to make this post longer, to somehow imbue it with meaning, what does that demonstrate or perhaps provide evidence for? Do humans inherently seek to go beyond/below the surface? Or is it just me? Har.

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Mastering Montages

How sweet the smell of verdant grass,
and water in between;
The latter sprinkles life and zest,
the former things unseen.

So apparently I entered preschool not knowing any English. I cried for a week, says Mums. I think it was queries and conversation amongst refugees and volunteers at the IRC a few weeks ago that fished this previously forgotten thought out of the depths, allowed it to surface.

Last week, I was outside in the yard imagining how in a week or so I'd be in Boston, staring up at the night sky, and by then I wouldn't be able to come back to SJ like *that* or anything.. it was a sobering thought. All things large and small come to mind when one fixes his gaze upon the firmaments and marvels at their reflective glory.

I was thinking about the different paths that people take after high school, roads that seem to continously diverge and meander in unexpected ways until they're so branched out one can hardly trace one to another. But we're all strung together by a common thread, are we not? A solid thread of glowing gold. The good-byes to people you expect to see again relatively soon, the good-byes to people you don't (know if you can) expect to see for some time, and the good-byes to people you don't expect to ever again on this earth see -- each carries a different weight and tone.

Life and faith, both can be complicated. Yet their essences waft simplicity. Notwithstanding, is it not better and more personally rewarding to actively wrestle with questions than to shuffle through the frames desultorily?

Can you mark out your moment in the montage of man? in that of his maker?

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to know one's heart

photo courtesy of nathanphua

Last week this day, I was amused to realize a minute after I'd picked out a red t-shirt and white shorts that the date was that of SG's National Day. Hah.

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Why does He love us so much, even after we mess up time and again?
How does He love us so much, even after we mess up time and again?

Rhetorical, unfathomable, indescribable.

Plaque and grime -- > time to scrub, time to clean.

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From the depths of the sea

the starting of the action is most difficult. inertia, opposite of momentum. i know i cannot start alone, yet why try? i don't understand the reluctance to compact and package. i do prefer to leave things open, to leave threads hanging, but i know there needs a guide. cannot i? without it i remain mired, gasping for air in a place i chose to step. but overcoming does not necessarily lead to life, not adversity to deliverance and growth. there is life in overcoming, deliverance and growth in adversity. learn, internalize, remember.

some things that seem harmless can be actually the opposite if not utilized well. for example, the past few weeks i've been spending time browsing through items of lesser importance, rather than focusing on higher goals that ultimately mean so much more. i realize that i am sinking, and i know i can grab onto a life vest, or even just start paddling, flailing my arms around widely, something. i know i can be rescued if only i cry out.

but 我開不了口。我真的開不了口。想開口的時候，i feel like, why bother? and i really mean that in the literal sense of the word. why bother Him, who must/could be so exasperated with a volitional failing such as mine? even though He's patient. i know.

perhaps the flaw here is in the "i know," the claim that supposedly affirms i was of compos mentis while making such decisions, or while allowing such things to happen. obviously.. i wasn't, right? at least, not in the highest and purest sense of the word. otherwise, all this wouldn't have occured, would it?

and so we begin.

Tamen per fidelitas, He continues to show grace, though. just about every time i look at RBC's My Utmost for His Highest, it's just what i need. it really is...just what i need.

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Traffic.

Courtesy of Flickr's *patrick

As much pride and glee as I took in my having been able to configure the Domokun template just the way I wanted, to keep the blogger toolbar while getting the headers to still match up, I have decided to temporarily (or at least it seems for now, har) restore the default template, as such manages better with sentiments of unrest.

Edit (7/8/09, 0122): New layout up. Not completely done working out all the snags, but have gotten a few things I wanted working, so yay.

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Splotches of Ink

ink over Bic. should've realized long time ago. chromatography. calligraphy? perhaps shall revisit. brushes speak. will i hear more this time?

not meant to drive? har. we'll see. and triumph. soon, God willing. I've never really held the desire to drive or otherwise operate an engine-powered vehicle simply for driving's sake (I would like to learn how to drive stick-shift because it seems cool and more utilizing of brains and effort). Driving has always been more about getting somewheres, doing somethings, seeing someones, or in cases that involve none of those three, roaming out wherever, breathing in the life that is nature.

U.S. date of independence yesterday. have noticed (the obvious fact) that no country is perfect. Even the U.S. used local children for translation purposes during the Vietnam War, which for some of these informal conscripts led to lifelong injuries. But then what, in this life?

love like rain

I've been home a month already. It's certainly not quite what I'd expected/wanted, in some ways. There's been good and bad, internal and external. Some of it's a matter of perception, but all of it's an active struggle. We'll see how His plans change me.

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I've become conscious recently that I dream in both 1st and 3rd person. When details stand in my mind most distinct, I may more often say with conviction that those dreams were in 1st person. But otherwise, when immediate apperception becomes obsolete, when my remembrances of the particulars are wrenched away, and my mind struggles to fill in the gaps -- the color of a shirt, one's posture, position, even specific facial features -- it is then that things turn fuzzy, and I grow the sense that I had dreamt in 3rd person.

Whether this is to mitigate the blurriness, or whether I had actually dreamt in the 3rd person, I do not know, but I would very much like to be able to compare what I had actually dreamt with what I thought I dreamt, just to see what and how much of it "actually happened," and what and how much my mind construed on its own. To be able to see inside one's mind so, what the mind does and to what degree, would allow one to better examine one's heart, I believe. And from such stems my curiosity.

^Writing it out like that has helped me see a piece of the why in why I've tentatively chosen the secondary that I have. Hah. Appreciated.

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