I guess my recent obsession with the sky fits in well with the name of the blog, chosen so many moons ago: "ciel". I'm not really sure what led to me picking that word to represent so many aspects of my online persona. But, there it is.
I've been driving back and forth from the hospital (and driving in general) a lot these past two weeks. I presume it isn't a particular reach when I say that pavement and upcoming traffic are not very exciting things to look at. Maybe that's why my gaze has leaned a bit more upwards as of late. Also, there's a big-ass window (c.f. big ass-window) in the canteen with a nice skyward view that I spend a lot of time looking through when I'm waiting for one of my aunts.
The best word that describes the impression that sky-gazing leaves with me is "finitude". This isn't something I bring up often with people nowadays because many seem to be perfectly content to shrug me off immediately, as if it were some sort of reflex they've developed. Whatever, fuck 'em all, right? Ok, maybe that's too harsh.
But whenever I reflect on the vastness of the great cosmos that abounds above us, I can't help but lament. Lament that I'm stuck here in this finite body, destined to live my life out worrying about and carrying out all these trifling finite affairs, that, in order to achieve some level of contentedness, I'm even supposed to force myself to derive "meaning" from these infinitely finite things. Will there be a sum to these physiological processes that I seem to help keep perpetuating?
I guess I can see why people would so readily shut me down when I bring up this topic. Even the lament of futility is futile. And so, our only option is to continue on unwaveringly? And, we're just supposed to take it?
How boring.
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