Questions

What is it about these changing phases that makes them so more loved? The way it blows hot and cold, this way and that, pulling us to and fro; variations making us...feel.

I have not had time to let myself think. Or rather, I have had the time, but less of the inclination. Or, well, to be honest, I am not even sure about what really has happened. I simply got lost in the pull and sway of routine, and while I longed for something to save me from it, I don't think I really made an effort. I let myself get lost.

But something has snagged inside me, and once again, I don't really know what it is. I let a whole summer go by unaccounted for, and that only heightens the irony since it is that heat and respective sense of relaxation that is supposed to go along with that season that should have let me fly loose. But it didn't happen. I cannot really tell you now what happened these months past; just trying to remember makes me feel like I had lost my memory and it's all been blocked.

It could be frustrating, but somehow I'm not letting it be that big a deal. So much more has happened, inside and out, that really sets perspective in its place. Rippling tides that have increasingly tugged me underneath and made me feel like I was drowning and only thing left was to survive, all other luxuries - writing - be damned.

It hasn't been anyone's fault but mine. I realize that I have become a different person; or rather I have let myself become a person that has always been me, only that it was not previously provided the circumstances and environment that would have allowed it to exist in its own right. Yesterday I was thinking how I used to be this buoyant bubble of hyperactivity and mirth, always giddy, always jokey, always 'that crazy, happy girl', and the inside scoop was all the while I was that girl, I was actually someone deeper inside, sad and lonely and craving for something more, and therefore all that buoyancy was somehow my defensive mechanism. It still is. But now, somehow, I have let my guard down and become this quieter and much more soulful person. And as I was thinking all this, I realized I also didn't like this much more honest person, because even while it was honest, it felt wrong.

At an intersection of myself, where the hyper met the depressed, I remember this was where the appreciation of who I was at a height. Meaning, somehow when I let it slip that, when people had figured me for this lighthearted ball of joy, I had hidden depths, somehow they appreciated who I was even more. One one hand, this was gratifying, but then again it also grated and was annoying because they had made assumptions. But then again, we all make assumptions, and I believe we make more assumptions about ourselves than anyone else, which is why we end up lost.

Sometimes the hardest thing is to figure out who we are. And either we face it heads on and try out mightiest to solve this universal problem before we kick the bucket and it's no longer a problem, or we just don't care. But to truly not care means we don't give a damn what anyone thinks, that we perhaps lose out in developing who we are, perhaps become hostile and anti-social, or amoral. It is the act of caring who we are with respect to who we are in the presence of others that keeps us who we are.  And to understand this underlying concept, we really actually need to take a moment to really think it through; just as we sometimes need to take a breath, or a step back, and consider who it is we wish to be.

So the next question is this: is the act of filtering ourselves for how we act, for what we say, somehow dishonest to the idea of just being yourself? That is where, if we are not careful, we may fall over the edge and get lost, especially if you spend too much time trying to answer this.

I have pulled away from 'interacting' in these past months. Like I have said, I don't really know why. I think it was so that I could find myself. I had things to deal with and the top of the list was nurturing the relationship that was most important. Time was in limited supply, so I figured that I would devote the time available toward this one thing, but then it was the very act of constantly keeping watch over how little time there was that somehow corroded the time itself.  Because you are ever more aware to how little there is, and if you are not careful, you find yourself wanting more, and more, and more when there is no more forthcoming. And the reaction to not receiving, and continuously wanting is not healthy. It eats you from the inside out.

Things which remain constant somehow lose their appeal. Perhaps this is why we allow ourselves to slip a little bit, and sometimes a lot, allowing ourselves to become splattered by mud as we trod onward on our journey, allowing ourselves to dip into a pool of misery or turmoil, because it adds some spice or flavour to an otherwise bland pool of sunshine.

So why is it that we internalize these changes, why the dynamic of movement from hot to cold, from up to down, from left to right, from dark to light, make us feel so much more alive? It's a question I have answered so many times and I am always still left asking it.

Temporal

I have realized another change in myself. Not something that is deeply embedded or having to do with emotions and personality, exactly.

It is interesting to remember that there was a time when it was necessary for me to always have my earphones on, music on, plugged into the computer I was using simultaneously. For hours, days, months, years, this was my status quo. While studying, reading, essaying, writing, researching, designing, coding, forum-ing, chatting, I had the earphones in, music on. Without fail.

In the last few days though, I suddenly realize that I have almost no tolerance for doing this anymore -- I feel irritated, and disoriented, plus there is this sensation of cognitive dissonance. I, the once notable multitasking queen, am losing my touch.

Or am I? I feel that it isn't just the physicality of the context. There are so many other variables contributing to this difference in me; now I feel that I am much more busy - mentally, emotionally and physically. I have more on my mind, and more emotional responsibility...I guess you could say.

And it's just another symptom of the same thing, when you correlate it to why my writing has changed as well - something I already discussed a few times. Writing....music...they were my constant companions and go-to's for my loneliness. Ah, those times back then, sure I had friends and was filling my days with that constant chatter of comraderie...but that too was also another sort of balm for my loneliness.

Now that's all changed, somehow. My days of filling lines in a notebook have diminished in being able to share it all to someone else instead. My hours of filling silence with music have also floated away with time...

But then lately, in the past few weeks, there has been a quaint revisitation to old songs and themes long past. Thanks to a co-blogger who has been steamrolling ahead with sharing songs, I've been finding myself navigating old alleyways searching out certain tunes and it's sort of a lovely feeling to refind old tracks and blow the dust away from them (figuratively) and remember the.. memories.

And finding old memories has also happened in terms of my writing. I first started blogging on Xanga.com way back in 2004. Before that, I used notebooks to write any thoughts (and also had this 'thing' about writing actual letters back and forth with friends). Last week, it occurred to me to go revisit those old blog posts on that domain, only to discover that the site was undergoing some changed that entailed anyone who wanted to use their services having to pay. Basically, all my blogs were gone.

For a memory-hoarder like myself, this sort of thing was simply disastrous. Heartbreaking! I immediately emailed the website admin. Paced about a few days. Then they replied back with a link to download my archived posts. Phew.

So then I downloaded the xml code. Figured I could import it to Blogger, but nope - for some reason it wouldn't allow the parsing. So...well anyways, this is the point: my old blog posts are now posted on Lucid Iridescence (my 'prose' blog) and going through them again was sort of like another revelation of remniscence. I had quite a few of the posts that I had kept as 'private' when they were on Xanga. I didn't want the public to read those emotions and thoughts. I thought about this briefly when posting to Blogger, but felt that since those emotions and contexts were detached from the person I am now, I do not feel so uncomfortable with having them see the light of day. Or rather, have other people see them. So they are all there in all their glory. If you are interested in this, I have done some simple organizing: the posts from my first blog on xanga are labelled 'Sapne' (that is what my first blog was called). The posts transferred from my second blog on another domain are labelled 'Read My Lips' (again what that blog was called). All my posts that had been posted since, directly during my time here on Blogger remain unlabelled.

The interesting thing to note is that going from each different blog phase, the difference in me itself is startlingly stark. Or, maybe it is for me. I don't know. Again it's quite amazing to remark on how the state of a person's lonesomeness can correlate to their state of mind.

Kreativ Blogger Award Part 2

Okay so moving forward, I have to tell you all 11 things about myself. Usually I relish the chance to prattle about my 2nd favourite person (yes, moi), but the thing is, whenever I come to this segment of these award processes I always baulk at what I'm supposed to tell. Anyways here let's try again.


1. I am a very very emotional person, and I cry easily.
2. In person I am very jokey; I say dumb things, make goofy remarks, faces, grin here and there and do the silliest things.
3. I love reaching out to people, making them feel better. This is one of my good points but also detrimental to myself in many cases.
4. I can be a really cold ice-queen bitch if I choose to. When someone loses out in my respect or good terms, it becomes amazingly easy to pull the shutter down on that relationship, black or white.
5. I hold onto emotions, and memories too much. I am attached to attachments too easily.
6. I am extremely idealistic, and will argue an argument to death.
7. 'Not-giving-a-damn' comes very easy to me, it was for the most part who I became for a very long phase. I won an award for most likely to not give a damn.
8.  I care too much too often.
9. I don't swear. Ever. The most I say shit, crap, damn or 'what the hell'.
10. I have been in love with the love of my life for a decade more or less.
11. I have issues with people having habits of extravagance and waste and unhealthfulness.


Ok, that's 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11 things, okay done done doneeeeeeeee. Have a great weekend!

Metamorphosis of the Butterfly

Somehow, I seem to find connections between almost everything and anything. They just pop up. When I may be thinking some odd thought randomly, then another thought comes around and connects to the previous one, or something happens to make me think, hey, that's just an extension to this thought...or sometimes, someone else comes out expressing their own thoughts and their thought just somehow aligns itself in symphony with all those already going along the motorways of the mind.

Technology

For some time, I have had this ongoing love-hate relationship with technology. No-brainer, right? Because, who doesn't? We've developed a high level of dependency upon technology so that when something actually goes wrong with whatever gadget we are dependent on, it's almost as if the world's ending. Waiting just an extra two seconds more for something to perform or load drives us insane. If the microwave doesn't work, 'oh my God, how do we eat?'.  We lose a phone, our life has become traumatizing. If, God forbid, the power goes out, well, gee, we may as well die. 

Microwave example aside, I'm going to pick on those devices which entail furthering communication. It boggles my mind, observing how dependent people have become on their devices; getting on a bus and just observing people, dozens, hundreds, all just focused on this tiny rectangle. That's become their world. If something happens to their phone - they lose it or it just doesn't work - it suddenly catapults the person into a whole new sphere, almost like rendering them on a deserted island, in total blackout, radio silence, traumatic isolation.

I can say this with my idealistic scorn of course, because I have absolutely no dependency on cell phones. Or, to be more honest, on my own possession of one. In full disclosure of asserting this, I have to admit that I do depend on others' having cell phones to fully optimize our communication. But other than that, my sole technological dependency is via the computer system. My laptop. 

While I spend a good amount of time at a computer - all day at work, and often hours at home also - I do enjoy the time away from being 'on line'. I enjoy being unfettered while outside, and not being one of those phone-absorbed people. Maybe I am old-fashioned, but having phones when outside were once just things to be used in case of an emergency. Now they have meshed so tightly with our everyday lives that they have superseded all other activities.

My 'beef' is with how less we are using our minds with the progress of technology. I harbour this deeply embedded sensation of us as civilization creeping up this graphical curve, slow at first with our lack of technology, then zooming ahead faster and faster at full speed as we develop technology that allows us to perform the most basic actions with greater facility and efficiency, but then we suddenly start slowing down, because with so many machines doing the work for us, suddenly our dependency has become our handicap, and we have forgotten how to actually think.

Imagination

Kids these days have so many options with which to engage their time. Computer games, video games, television, talking books, ...iPads for their own personal use to do all of that. They're born into this new technology-drenched era, so much that to think of any other possibility does not even occur to their mind. It's become taken for granted now that they are entitled. 

But, while it's normal for kids to be able to get a handle on utilizing the most advanced technology and programs, being able to text and type without even trying - things which make the older generations gawk, somehow in the broadening of their accessibility to the world in general, they (we) have in fact put a border on how our minds can grow. 

Imagination, for example, seems to have become one of the foremost casualties in this burgeoning world of technology. You hardly find children today being able to 'make-believe': giving them a bunch of lifeless and unconnected items and they will lose any interest in them almost immediately. Gone is the potential of using our own minds to infuse creativity and life into otherwise lifeless objects and circumstances. I spent my entire childhood creating stories, games, entire story-worlds; hand-me-down toys from other well-off children came alive with their own personalities and entire background stories. Pocahontas became Quasimoto's sister-in-law, John Smith became an Amitabh-Bachchan-song dancer in the Smith Brother's Pub & Grill. Kitty, the Simba-replicated stuffed animal with absolutely no batteries became the official family pet and went everywhere we travelled. Our tiny square of backyard became a huge world wherein our tiny toys had their own farmland, kingdoms, and camping grounds. 

Now, the idea of 'make-believe' almost doesn't exist for children. It has evolved with the last generations to remember what it was, and has almost taken more carnal and definitely adult meanings: "role-play". Once upon a time, role-play was what kindergarten kids did with the random props and dress-up box. Now, I don't even have to explain what has become of the word, because so ubiquitous this evolution, it becomes unnecessary. 

Oh, I know I sound like an aged old woman, and while I am the kiddiest girl around for my age, I also know that while I am a kid at heart, I have an ancient soul. I grieve for the coming generations. Rather than their brains developing new and exciting neuro-pathways creating vast portals of discovery and intellect, the networks that are actually lighting up are those of machines. 

Interaction

The loss of performing what may be perceived as useless activities, such as fooling around with inanimate objects or running around on the streets, comes with the gain of greater interpersonal interaction. Connections are available at the press of a button, communication is accessible round the clock. We've spanned the world hundreds of times, and when once you could be anywhere just by imagining it in your mind, now it's feasible: through technology you are actually capable of connecting to that same place, actually speaking with someone 928502394823 miles away and not just in your imagination.

In elementary school, I was one of just 3 people who put up their hands when our geography teacher asked us who had a computer at home. Then that total number of people went down to two when he then asked who had Internet, my hand still up in the air. I had very little idea of how profound that word, Internet, would actually become, despite being one of the special ones in possession of this Holy Grail.

Perhaps that is what demarcates the concept in my mind so emphatically. I have been on both sides of that line; witness to and part of a generation undergoing profound revolution, consequently I am less susceptible to that sense of entitlement.

But then again, I grew into that generation at a younger age, and taking that in consideration, I can then also understand how parents of our generation would have been even more suspicious of connecting with others through electronic devices. Once upon a time, suspicion of anyone absolutely unknown in person was already in place, now where you cannot even see who it is that you are communicating with - not even a voice, as even with the telephone - imagine the horror.

Years after that moment in my geography class - my short-lived temporary glamour dissipating with the concept becoming so much more mainstream - in high-school, one of my best friends one day told me about this guy she met on the internet, and how they were...well, involved. At that time, I couldn't fathom it. I was already enduring the teenager-fixation of high-school crushology at that time (and boy, was I swimming in that!) that to even comprehend this strange idea of my best friend talking to this random guy on the internet, then somehow falling in love, was totally mind-boggling. Of course, being an open-minded carefree soul, I just accepted it (or maybe I was too entrenched in the drama of my own 239842039840923 crushes at that time) and figured as most crushes at that time and age, it would also be a short-lived thing.

Boy was I wrong. Years (and years) later, she is now engaged to him. And this is amazing taking into consideration 1. the number of years that has actually passed since they first met and 2. they still live where they lived when they met. Her in Toronto, he in California. Of course, there've been numerous visits. But yes, they made it!

But that doesn't even come to me as a shock. Not now. Somewhere down the line, I somehow aligned my appreciation for the internet with my innate belief in love being possible in any form. After high-school, I still wasn't in the fold yet. I went through another year of university before the total unrestricted access to computers and internet finally seeped into my bones and took root.

First came writing. Writing, as I have discussed before, was my companion. When disaster struck and I found myself totally surrounded by a tormenting bubble of loneliness, it was writing that became my balm.
But, even before I really needed it for this reason, I had stumbled upon a blogging site when stalking my new uni best friend's crush for her. (Yes! After all this lengthy and somewhat dry discussion, you finally get some juicy gossip.)

So, this is how it went down. Calculus tutorial. I met her, she met me. We became friends. Became best friends. She confessed a crush on dude. I tormented her by teasing her in millions of ways, i.e. going to talk to him, dancing behind his back for her to notice him, well---let me stop the list before you really think I am crazy. If I haven't really told the story before, I shall save it for another post. In summary, we were in the library one day (well we were usually there, duh) and he happened to be using one of those computers you stand at to do a quick check for whatever, and while she did her usual freeze-wideneyes-hyperventilate routine, I managed to sneak up behind him, but him being 6 feet tall I couldn't see much,  then he just picked up his bag in his usual fastidious and oblivious manner and left, and that's when I noticed he'd left his page open. And it was his blog.

There you have it folks. The key to this portal.


Granted, his blog was on a totally different server, and it took a lot of random stalking his url and dropping random comments under weird aliases (like ApplePie Is Yummy) just to make her have panic attacks (for whatever reason she worried (more like freaked out) that he would know these weird comments ("Hey Grandpa, green apples.") were connected to her. Like really.

But that's how the flicker of a butterfly's wing can create a tsunami across the world.


Connecting

The evolution is predictable. From dropping anonymous comments, to becoming a registered member, to having my own blog, to recording preposterously insane moments with my university friends, to one day having a traumatic experience then suddenly really, actually NEEDING to write for my own solace. Then being on the internet, it only was natural that I encountered people I never met.

I've always been pretty cautious with regards to actually getting close to anyone. Not just strangers on the internet. Friendly, sure, I can do friendly, and everyone who meets me usually gets that impression - unless I want you not to because I do not like you. I have said this before, and I say so again, I have always preferred just having a very select few of very quality friends over a large group of acquaintances. Experience is talking here - the sort which makes a person need writing for solace in the first place.

Then I landed in a place where I was suddenly as anonymous as I chose to be. Then I realized, this is a two-way street. We've been looking at the fact that in the anonymity of the internet therein existed the threat, when on the other side of the coin, there was immeasurable safety and freedom in being anyone - or better yet, no one at all. Then I became liked, and being liked, I became a friend. I became a sister, a confidante, a role model and a best friend. With people who were strangers over the internet.

10 years later. I'm here. I've lived a whole lifetime with those people who became my family. When we have more or less gone our own ways, reminiscing makes me feel as if I am recollecting a previous life. And the sensation is another confusing experience. It once again propagated me into a phase wherein loneliness was my companion, and somehow, I've become even more discriminating about who I let get close to me, and at what distance and for how long.



 Kindred Spirits

When I consider the ease with which children - or rather not only children but those younger than myself seem to be much more vulnerable, no? - are sharing their personal information, sending across pictures, voice chatting, facetiming, whatsapping, with strangers, I cannot help but feel uneasy. I've encountered my own fair share of really really strange individuals on the internet for whom exploiting such information, making threats etc. is apparently what entertains them.

I'm not usually quick to trust just anyone, and this should obviously be how we all are. I have this...thing...with regards to being able to 'feel' a person's personality. Again, this is something I just can't explain. It's what allows me to understand and empathize with a person. It's what makes my literary caricatures of those individuals I put into stories seem so aptly like them.

But those special few. I don't know. There is something even more ineffable about the circumstances of how they happen. We could consider the myriad 'what ifs' that could have taken us on very different paths, but for some reason I really feel that no matter what other hand of cards we'd been dealt and however else we chose to play them, somehow we'd have still inevitably met. Like the dove coming home to its roost every night, somehow perhaps that is how the soul works.

We have connections with everything and everyone simply by our very existence within this huge ecosystem. But sometimes, special connections just pop up. Cherish them.

Pig

I have never been one to be much into politics. Mainly because I'm such an idealistic person that I see rainbows, stars, and unicorns floating about my head most times. And no, I'm not on crack.

Of course, if you put those two words - politics and crack - together, you get one result: Rob Ford. Who's that, several of you may ask. He's the mayor of Toronto, and has been in the headlines for his 'crack scandal' (and other similar reasons) putting the biggest metropolitan city in Canada on the global map for its shame.

Still, I didn't much care, except to scoff, roll my eyes, and shake my head with aplomb; what else was expected, anyways? He's a politician.

Granted, not every politician gets busted for smoking crack, and other drunken and under-the-influence behaviours. Certainly, other politicians already beat that (re: )

And many other politicians are worse: when you've been familiar with the 'Indian' bureaucracy and all that which happens (often depicted in hindi movies- so I confess, maybe my idea is a bit, err, skewed) you only expect the word 'corrupt' to go hand in hand with politics. And I don't only mean to highlight India, so do not be offended; the infamy of politics and government through history has only highlighted those famous words "Power corrupts". (For more background on this quote, go here. Because I'm linking it, I obviously recommend you do.)

So, if I'm not really shattered to pieces by any of this happening, why am I writing about this so called issue? Well, I actually got to thinking about it, in my idealistic moralist way. About what exactly? Well to better answer that question, it should be rephrased as "why exactly":

Yesterday evening, I grabbed the Metro (mini-newspaper-thingy-for-commuters) to read on the way home. I came across this article about this other Toronto MP pushing for a chance to pose beside our Prime Minister at the holy site of the Western Wall in Jerusulem:

The Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem is considered one of the most sacred and holy sites in Judaism.

But when Prime Minister Stephen Harper visited the spot on Tuesday, a Conservative MP nearby was apparently focused on how joining the PM's photo-op may improve his re-election chances.

(excerpt courtesy Huffington Post; read full story here)

So, of course, following that, the man had no choice but to show some sort of remorse with his lack of tact (for lack of a better word) so he makes a statement saying - wait for it - "I was joking".

Err, yeah buddy.

So, all this got me thinking. This man goes to this place where it's all about international relations and diplomacy and he's pushing and shoving and yelling for a photo-op just because it's going to get him re-elected. Then you have Rob Ford, who again gets splashed on front lines because a video is released showing him drunk, cussing and insulting chief police officers, among other people, and yet he asserts that it's what he does in his own time and no one should give him grief for whatever he says or how he talks while with friends. Which is, of course, a point.

But what exactly does that say? That who you are in front the cameras will be different from who you are in reality? That you're only mucking up, hogging for the cameras, showing a 'good side' and yet it's still an act, because what you do in your time is solely your business?

If he were only, say for example, a mere celebrity, maybe I'd be okay with that. Even then, celebrities have to kind of pay attention to their own actions because of the inevitable (unfortunate) effect of being 'role models'. But being a politician is one step further isn't it? You have to really buck up, make good, and stand by it. Sure, no one is dumb enough to expect glowing and flawless candidates; we know no one is perfect. But, by being a politician, you are stepping into a position where you make decisions crucial to the well-being of thousands upon thousand of people. You are representative of their moral compass.

Who you are does have everything to do with the public. Because your beliefs, philanthropy, and politics are an extrapolation of your personality. And when your true personality - exemplified by derogatory, disgusting behaviour - is splashed out for your people to see, that's pretty damn telling.

Intense

I know I am seemingly always overconfident and righteous, and that I act all "miss-know-it-all"-- and no, I am not saying these things about how I am in any sort of mockery either for anyone who might feel so: I know that I am this most often of the time.

Yet often, I find it difficult to figure out if it is who I really am, or who I am because it is my "armour", as in my defense mechanism... I know it is definitely partly because of a defense mechanism...and one that I have cultivated so much over the years that it has become a second skin that seems to be who I really am. And that is something which I have let happen self-consciously, so that everyone just figures that is who I am. That's not to say this is any excuse for being this way...it being a second skin is no excuse to say it isn't who I am. It's still who I am. But it is somehow an armour for that side of who I am which I refuse to let others see; if they are not able to see it, they cannot reach it, and if they cannot reach it, they cannot use it, abuse it, nor destroy it. 'It' of course, being me.

Vulnerability is that state we guard most closely. We do not want to become attached because it opens up our portal for vulnerability. And we learn to guard this vulnerability through experience. Experiences which for the most part we would categorize as unpleasant, because they have taught us pain, and it is through this pain that we have witnessed our vulnerabilities as never before, and therefore we, within ourselves, have seen it for what it is and how to shut it up tight.

 This was meant to be a personal anecdote, and as usual when I write, it ends up going general, and vague, and the one(s) I intend to have this said to would likely be the one to tune out and get lost and distracted. I think, also, that me writing vaguely is another form of defense mechanism, because I am writing about my vulnerabilities for all and sundry to see, though I really had intended it for one. I could have certainly written to the person directly, but for some strange reason I felt that this was a topic I could possible learn the lesson I mean to teach myself more emphatically if I put my failings out on the laundry line.

My lesson is of humility. (And interestingly, two of my soul-siblings have expressed similar thoughts via their blogs (i.e. vulnerability, attachment, self-weaknesses, and humility); as often I am not certain if it is that we simply feed off one another's thoughts or that we truly experience the same at once..)

I have hidden my humility through my pompousness. In being a in-your-face hyper and confident girl, the girl who always has an answer and who always refuses to back down from her arguments, I seem to have done too well a job of hiding my vulnerability, so much that it has somewhat backfired on me; the ones who really need to know me, and who I really am, I am not certain if they believe that me exists. Because I myself haven't been able to figure out who this "me" is.

But (again like those others) I have acknowledged that it is a perpetual journey of self-discovery. And much of my established idealism that I have grown with love like it were my own secret garden of roses, has been one that also comes with its thorns: in letting my feet off the solid earth, in dreaming of the "ideal" I had cultivated so many expectations, so many that they could never possibly be truly practical.

Perhaps that is why it is amazing that I have found sanity in the fruition of the main dream. And that I am learning to be practical through this one dream; to let go of many others which were frivolous in many ways...and yet....

And yet, what? I don't know really.. I am writing all this without forethought, you see. I don't even know where I really am going with this. I guess, I am learning that we cannot hope to establish who we are at any given time. It is impossible. And yet, we are constantly evolving and learning. And it is through our responsibilities and relationships that we most learn to gauge ourselves. We cannot hope to hide in a cave in order to survive, simply because the person we are is too volatile to indulge in interaction. It is through interaction, and through both bad and good experience that we best learn who we are. It is through the struggle where we learn what needs to go, and through the good that we learn what we should keep.

I am addressing this discourse to a number of people, certainly. But again, this is a reminder to myself. I was in fact the one who many years ago (I seem to have been such a wise person when I was so idealistic, and yet I was naive? What a paradox)... I think it was best noted (by myself) when I observed that for a rose to grow stronger and more beautiful, it needs to be clipped and (I am stretching for the right description right now; I know I summed it up beautifully in a line that I posted on Golden Moments, let me look)...Ok found it:

Pruning the rosebush and cutting out what isn't needed makes the rose stronger!

So in summary: ... (and this is specifically for the one I had originally intended this message for)

I don't mean sarcasm, or mockery, by learning to be a better person, nor is it a slight to say that I am learning to become a better person through what I am discovering because of our interactions. It isn't a bad thing necessarily that the bad is brought out through them, but that more of who I am is starting to come out in the open, lots of traits that had been long-dormant because they had always been hidden behind the armour., and lots of new responses that never had reason to exist before that are now alive and new in the world like a newborn baby, yet to learn how to be clothed.  I mean it in the best possible way, to be a better person for all in question.

Top ten myths about Introverts

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk.

This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.


Myth #2 – Introverts are shy.

Shyness has nothing to do with being an Introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting. If you want to talk to an Introvert, just start talking. Don’t worry about being polite.


Myth #3 – Introverts are rude.

Introverts often don’t see a reason for beating around the bush with social pleasantries. They want everyone to just be real and honest. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable in most settings, so Introverts can feel a lot of pressure to fit in, which they find exhausting.


Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people.

On the contrary, Introverts intensely value the few friends they have. They can count their close friends on one hand. If you are lucky enough for an introvert to consider you a friend, you probably have a loyal ally for life. Once you have earned their respect as being a person of substance, you’re in.


Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public.

Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for Introverts.


Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone.

Introverts are perfectly comfortable with their own thoughts. They think a lot. They daydream. They like to have problems to work on, puzzles to solve. But they can also get incredibly lonely if they don’t have anyone to share their discoveries with. They crave an authentic and sincere connection with ONE PERSON at a time.


Myth #7 – Introverts are weird.

Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.


Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds.

Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions. It’s not that they are incapable of paying attention to what is going on around them, it’s just that their inner world is much more stimulating and rewarding to them.


Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun.

Introverts typically relax at home or in nature, not in busy public places. Introverts are not thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. If there is too much talking and noise going on, they shut down. Their brains are too sensitive to the neurotransmitter called Dopamine. Introverts and Extroverts have different dominant neuro-pathways. Just look it up.


Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.

Introverts cannot “fix themselves” and deserve respect for their natural temperament and contributions to the human race. In fact, one study (Silverman, 1986) showed that the percentage of Introverts increases with IQ.



This list was inspired by the book The Introvert Advantage: How to Thrive in an Extrovert World by Marti Laney.

Qotd

“We meet ourselves time and again

 in a thousand disguises on the path of life.”

― C.G. Jung

Impossible IQ (May Challenge Continues)

Day 24: Your top 3 worst traits

This is a topic I know you all are holding your breathes thinking okay we won't say anything until she does:P then we'll be safe. 

1. I am oversensitive.

I would think that's kind of self-explanatory. I get very attached or care too much for my own good and then I get hurt pretty quickly. I'm better at it that I have been but it's still there. And flourishes quite spectacularly with those I am very very close to. (See #2.)

2. I am argumentative.

As those very very close to me know, I can have a bit of a temper. And it's funny, because I used to be pretty cool and calm about almost everything and anything. Or, if I really think about it there have been phases. When I was younger, like in the midst of high-school, I distinctly remember my dad telling me that I have a hell of a temper. This connects directly to my sensitivity (see #1), of course, but what I do recall is I used to get pretty upset when I cared too much in regards to family, back then. Then I learnt to kind of pull back, and let go, because it was futile to get angry and care that much. Same pinch with my high-school friendships. Then I entered my resolution of 'apathy': to not give a damn. And that was how I was in uni, for the most part. I made a few friendships wherein I had to give a damn, but on the whole I learnt that I really wasn't a vessel for anger. 

Cut to present: Somehow the handful of people that I count as my closest think of me as a hotheaded girl/woman, whereas those who aren't as close as them (read skin-deep close) think I'm amazingly cool, calm and collected. Go figure; it's obviously correlated to how much I care. 

3. I am self-sacrificing.

I don't know why but sometimes I just do whatever to make others happy rather than for my own good. I have had an easier time recognizing the first two traits as problematic, but this one I have needed to be pointed out to me. I still can't really get a grip on it that much to really explain but, I like to make other people happy, or rather I try to appease,  and often that comes as an expense to my own well-being. As I have eventually recognized, sometimes I get taken for granted or get treated like a doormat. And I've been trying to come to terms with how I don't, without being altogether selfish. Of course it makes sense that those who would treat me like that shouldn't even be worth a care. Sometimes it's weirdly complicated though. o_O  But yeah.

Book Review

Last night I finally finished a book I've had for quite some time (the fact that it got stolen when I was midway through it when I first bought it has something to do with the fact that I resumed reading it perhaps a year later).  The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet by Colleen McCullough.

You remember Mary right? Mary? Who?! Nah, of course you don't. Noone remembers Mary, the younger middle, and therefore unmemorable, sister of the Bennet sisters in the classic Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

Everyone who remembers P&P knows Elizabeth. And anyone who is a female and read P&P at an impressionable age would have fallen in love with Darcy. I sure did.

But noone remembers Mary. Or, you might, just in the way you'd remember all the sisters enumerating one hand. But she was so indistinct a character that at the end of the day, you don't lose much by forgetting her.

That's the whole point of McCullough's tale. She turns the spotlight sideways, away from the classic love of Jane and Bingley, away from the intense chemistry between Elizabeth and Darcy, and suddenly we see Mary in HD.

You don't care really though, do you? I know. But I care. Because, like always, there are so many things about this book that I can relate to, and at the top of the list is the development of Mary Bennet.

As a child, in P&P she was the bookworm, nose stuck in books, acting like a little know-it-all brat, the one noone really liked, but tolerated simply because she was family. Her father detested her, because she wasn't the classic beauty of the two elder sisters, and she wasn't the baby of the family like the younger two sisters.

In The Independence of Mary Bennet, we are taken many many years down the road from when P&P was written. We are given a deep inner look into the actual workings of the marriages of Jane and Bingley, Elizabeth and Darcy - a more realistic look because, unlike the fairytale ambiguity of the love stories in the original P&P, we encounter relationship breakdowns, loves gone stale, and the effects of time upon them all. Which we can relate to because we simply walk in stride with these characters in parallel with our own lives.

Mary was left behind to take care of her miserable mother. Years and years shut up in one house, in a Victorian time when it wasn't seemly to be out and about when a woman was unmarried, and it was a duty to ..do one's duty. A duty that meant she was forgotten and had to take care of a parent who had no love for her, and expected everything back.

Mary is a woman who's spent all those years cooped up trying to educate herself, she read through all the books left in her father's library. A father who spent his money on building this library, his wife's clothes, and none on educating his daughters. So the story begins with the death of her mother, and suddenly she is free.

"But now that I am free, I have no wish to experience any of those things. All that I want is to be of use, to have a purpose. To have something to do that would make a difference."

Fiercely independent, a Miss-know-it-all, prim and proper in the pious way, a flower that has suddenly bloomed beautiful from a wacky looking geek everyone knew her as, yet oblivious of the attentions of enumerable suitors, feisty and equanimous at the same time, then ends up falling in love with her best friend - is it such a surprise that I wouldn't relate?

Warwick

The problem with fame is you no longer belong to you. You lose your persona and become the object of other people's obsession.

12-c

One of my good friends recently pointed out that I have been 'weird' since the new year's started. I pointed out, in turn, that actually I've been 'calm'. I guess that's the price of being 'content'. I've been less happy but at the same time, I've not been extremely sad.

So I guess in a way, it's true. You cannot have one without the other.

I've also learnt that some dreams are meant to be dreamt at a certain time [in life]. When I was a little girl, I used to give guests to the house a 'tour' of my wedding plans. I had my dress chosen and set aside, the type of roses I would be given, the shoes I would wear and even the very age I would marry at. Matter-of-factly, I expected that one day I would be loved and cherished the way girls and princesses were - in the movies and stories (Disney, to be precise).

Laughable in retrospect. I was all of 7 or 8 years old at the time, so for many reasons it was a dream that had to remain just that, of a little girl. The dress grew too small, the shoes too tight, and as I myself grew, my own perceptions about love grew out of itself.

I held onto some semblance of it simply because it was comfortable, familiar, like an old teddybear or blanket, a trinket of the past that served as a souvenir of naive times, that reemerged again and again from the flames at those times when I tried to burn it away.

You cannot burn your dreams without being burnt yourself. Out of the flames, I emerged, changed. Jokier, more 'miss know-it-all', goofier, sarcastic, quicker to laugh. I've become a me that's a shell of merriment and laughter, maybe more so in attempt to erase the frailer, vulnerable me.

If anything, perhaps it has made that vulnerability deeper and stronger, because although easier to laugh away hurt, for that hurt to exist it then travels deeper and is felt more intensely. Although rare to open up the bottle of emotions and show that vulnerability, for that ability to care and love to exist, the more deeply the shards pierce when knocked down or aside.

There must exist a bridge between memory and serenity. For serenity cannot be disillusionment of that which has passed, it must face it full on and let it crash upon and into itself with all its power, and remain standing, yet still, with understanding and fortitude.

12-b

Sometimes being happy means you give up happiness itself. Those moments where you're over-the-moon ecstatic, when you're ebullient, brimming with joy - those moments are momentary. They last waveringly like a transparent bubble reflecting a million colours for a second, two seconds, before it bursts.

The problem with sharing - the good, the bad; everything - is that it turns back on you when you least expect it. Once, a friend told me how her mother advised her never to tell everything, because one day, it will be used against you, wittingly or unwittingly. Of course, me being the all-transparent me, I had to scoff when I was told this all so many years ago. But now when I'm on the topic, this is what I am recalling and considering.

When people experience something good, all of a sudden they are knocking on wood, crossing fingers, putting 'kala tikka' here and there, or not speaking about it, lest the 'evil eye' is cast on that good luck or happiness. Maybe it's true, maybe one shouldn't express such extremes of happiness no matter to whom, because it turns.

I'm a 'feeler', in that I feel everything, or almost everything, deeply. I laugh easily, I cry easily. I get hyper in happiness, and feel sadness with intensity. So it's difficult to reign it all in, which is why perhaps I am writing about this at all. It's difficult, but I'm learning.

12

I've shut off myself in the hopes of finding myself again. What I've come to realize is that I am searching  for myself , a self, which is not who I am now. I am trying to be that person I was when I was a different me. It's at once so clearly obvious and yet, like much that is obvious, overlooked. Perhaps this break was not required for the goal I had set out with at first, but I have found that through it, perhaps it was nonetheless required. I have found that despite the contrast in how I have written, for myself and for others, that the person that I am and the person I was are too different.

I used to be able to write soulfully - simply because the person I was then was seeking, lost, searching, waiting, wanting, craving , and maybe more importantly, alone.

So then, I must ask myself, why do I want to be that person again? The person I am now, although unable to commit words to the record and unable to voice my emotions and feelings as poetically as I used to, this person is happier.

Not happier that I cannot write like I used to. But, in the time I have taken for myself, by closing my words off, I have found that the problem isn't just in the ability to write, it is the opportunity to write.

26

Nerdy:

Invisible Smoke:

Kiara: 

Layla:

Ajay Kontham:

Ether:

Jiyaa:

Rinka (Bulb):

IQ: 

Quiztime!

Seeing as it's the weekend (hurrah for sleep-ins!) and I'll most likely not be posting, let's have a little break from my 'serious', 'depressing', and 'boring' posts. A quiz for you all! :)

1. What is on your bed right now?
2. When was the last time you threw up?
3. What's your favorite word or phrase?
4. Name 3 people who made you smile today?
5. What were you doing at 8 am this morning?
6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
7. What is your favorite holiday?
8. Have you ever been to another country?
9. What is the last thing you said aloud?
10. What is the best ice cream flavor?
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
12. What are you wearing right now?
13. What was the last thing you ate?
14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
15. When was the last time you ran?
16. What's the last sporting event you watched?
17. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
18. Who is the last person you sent a comment/message on myspace?
19. Ever go camping?
20. Do you have a tan?
21. Have you ever lost anything down a toilet?
22. What is your guilty pleasure?
23. Do you use smiley faces on the computer alot?
24. Do you drink your soda from a straw?
25. What did your last text message say?
26. Are you someone's best friend?
27. What are you doing tomorrow?
28. Where is your mom right now?
29. Look to your left, what do you see?
30. What color is your watch?
31. What do you think of when you think of Australia?
32. Ever ridden on a roller coaster?
33. What is your birthstone?
34. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive tthru?
35. Do you have any friends on myspace that you actually hate?
36. Do you have a dog?
37. Last person you talked to on the phone?
38. Any plans today?
39. Are you happy?
40. Where are you right now?
41. Biggest annoyance in your life right now?
42. Last song listened to?
43. Last movie you saw?
44. Are you allergic to anything?
45. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
46. Are you jealous of anyone?
47. Are you married?
48. Is anyone jealous of you?
49. Do any of your friends have children?
50. Do you eat healthy?
51. What do you usually do during the day?
52. Do you hate anyone right now?
53. Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
54. How many kids do you want when you're older?
55. How did u get one of your scars?

♥

Sensitivity

Having started introspection - well, not really so much 'start' as it's always on-going - with the focus on my temper, I've delved to another level altogether in realizing that anger isn't so much the problem as is the root of it, my sensitivity.

This definitely should not - and does not - come as a surprise. I've always said that the one thing I'd change about myself is my emotional sensitivity.

Being overly sensitive is not, in itself, a bad trait but it is likely to lead you to assume slights that you imagined, or are not intentional. You will be easily hurt by comments and actions that are 'normal', that most people do not find hurtful. Misinterpreting constructive, everyday interactions can limit your ability to lead a happier life. -WikiHow.

I had just taken a break after writing the above, to kick the useless radiators that have not been working since the temperature has dropped. I'd turned the valves on the ends of the radiators in order to bleed out the trapped air, so as to, hopefully, fill it up with hot water that would then render the radiator useful.

There is some vulnerability in me that is unable to close of my emotional valves in certain circumstances. I don't know how to cut down how much I care without totally cutting myself entirely. All I know is this is something I'm on my own with.

Anger

Good morning! It's such a beautiful day - it's almost like spring again. It almost disarms a person to forget what preparations they've made mentally, bracing for the winter cold. Likewise, as I'm coasting on a spell of good mood, I'm almost tempted to put aside my newly born resolution for another day. That's not happening though, have no fear.

Anger is a waste of time.
There was a time when I stated 'I don't believe in anger, it's a waste of time.'  Because more often than not, it isn't constructive. And selfish. When I get angry, I either turn against the person and become incredibly ice-cold, and emotionally I've locked away the parts of me that might get further injured if I leave them out vulnerable. My anger doesn't usually last longer than a few minutes, it's a bright flash and then just as quickly transforms into hurt.

Angers you, conquers you.
One of my favourite quotes for years and years - "He who angers you, conquers you." I've used this to counsel many people over these years, about not letting people who don't matter get under your skin. Once they've angered you, you've let them affect you, and they've got the upper hand. If they don't matter, then why should what they say or do really affect you?

My problem however, is that it's the people who I do care about - who are so close to me that they have the ability to spark the wire to my temper.


What are the situations I find that spark this temper?

1. Low tolerance for stupidity/nonsense. 
2. Impatience. 
3. Resentment.
4. Expectations - a person who should be able to be more understanding, not understanding.
5. Expectations - hoping a person would say or do something, and not.
6. Being crowded in my personal space. I need breathing room.
7. Being slighted - ignored, told off, treated like a doormat.
8. Being unappreciated.

And the list might go on, I'm still thinking so that's going to be another post for another day. *sigh*

Re-Solution

Happy December!

I normally write after I think through a lot of what I've been feeling or experiencing, and usually I write up something that's already sort of a solution of some kind, that leads to us all - myself mostly - feeling something akin to inspired.

It's almost the end of the year, and when January kicks in, we reach that clichéd time where we're all expected in an ambiguous sort of way to make New Year's Resolutions. I have always hated that, growing up,  having to write out a list of resolutions that was first and foremost a dreaded chore, and secondly that list having to meet the approval of said parent, and thirdly the entire thing weighed down by those damn expectations.

But, lately I've been telling myself that there are bits of me that I need to change. And this is what I'm writing about, I'm making my own Old Year's Resolution right now. I, IQ, am going to battle my inner demons and hopefully conquer that quietly raging fire that's inside me. My anger.

What anger? I know, most of you might never - and how God has blessed you - have come across my anger. But it's there, and boy is it ugly when it rears its fiery head. I can be cool as a cucumber on the surface, but there seems to be something - and yes it is when I get extremely close to people that it seems to awaken - that's like a volcano. There was a time when I rarely got angry, and when I did it was like Armageddon. I'd figured out a relationship - the frequency of my anger was inversely proportional to the magnitude of my anger.

And I know that some of you *stares at someone* think I just need a vacation from all the stressors of life. But that's just it. It's sort of like a drug addict or alcholic never really coming to terms with their addiction, because they've always avoided the stressors that stimulate the cycle of them reaching for their stash. No matter what, life is always going to be there, but the people I care about may not - not if I continue to lose my temper. I need to work through and live through the stress and be able to do so without the temper being unleashed.

I need to remember that this is only my starting resolution, I'm not meant to find any solution just as yet. But I am going to work on it. That's a promise.

Black Friday

"You only grow up by living through the shit that life throws at you."
- Rachel's Holiday, Marian Keyes.

The context this was said totally made me sit up and take another read. It explained a lot, personally speaking. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm always a kid at heart. I even look way younger than I am.

"But whenever life threw problems at me, I just got out of it. So my emotions stayed stopped at twelve.”

Rachel's a drug addict and used this addiction to forget reality.  Not all of us are drug addicts, but I can say that we've all used our own way of getting out of life's problems. Some of us are workaholics, or maintain habits that reinforce our dependency on them - such as watching tv, or binging on food - simply because they allow us to avoid our problems, or avoid having to deal with them. In many cases, we pull away from the issue or pretend it isn't there. We avoid the people who would make us face it, and often times this leads to broken relations, and us becoming even more dependent on our habit, because it provides us a comfort of some kind. This revelation is one that makes me understand why I am still that much a child.

Then, there are those times when I feel so absolutely ancient. When life has thrown so much that you've become a pro at hitting home runs (or 6s, for the cricket-inclined), and you've lived and learnt so much.

A big lesson that I've learnt, in how life becomes so much easier, is to forget about "What about me?" And trust me, this is one of the hardest lessons to learn, because at the same time we need to ensure that we're not allowing ourselves to be become doormats or spare tires. But overall, there comes a point when you need to let go of the element "me", and rather than hold expectations about what you are getting, you should focus on what you can give. Not literally speaking of course, in case any of you are taking stock of your inventory.


Your life didn’t suddenly fall apart. You dropped it.”