Flow like water

I get Mondays and Tuesdays off after working a weekend. A well received reprieve after a week-long stretch. What I do on these two days varies but very commonly involves meeting up with people during lunchtime and after work with a long less directed stretch in the middle. It's during this periods that I tend to wander around streets and shops as well as update my l periodically derelict blog. Maybe sing a few songs in public when no one's around.

Sometimes, these deviations from the daily rushed rituals of work, chores, and the sort take me back to times of when I had felt a distinct formlessness. Times when I wondered what I was waiting for, working for, aiming for ... while walking similar streets and listening to and singing similar songs.

I'm reminded how free-form our lives can be once we take a step outside of the structured routines that we build for ourselves. 

These moments remind me that, much like water which flows and takes the form of its container, life can take any multitude of paths and that I should remember to peek periodically outside of my own cloistered life. 

There's a big world out there.

See you Space Cowboy

I was going to type something up about baggage but I realized that I've been in this position many times ago and, over time, I've come to accept the typical course: accepting the errors and putting them in the backpack. Not to say I would focus and obsess over them unyieldingly but to accept them and let them serve solely as moments of insight. And that's ok.

I guess I've been more able to control my worries since the time I had used this blog more frequently. I'm sure I'll reach a point in my life where my anxieties will come back but I guess I'm ok for now.

Dusk

Thus saith the unholy forces:

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

The pestilence unrelentingly barrages and batters my consciousness, numbing the senses. As the background noise fades, I hear the vile beckoning for my return to a place that I never wish to traverse willingly. One of my oldest friends, perhaps family?

In my dreams, I see its imagined forms: the goathead, wielding a mighty staff, eyes excised, sightless yet unquestioningly domineering; the sacrificial pig, eviscerated, flayed, wounds purulent and ever-flowing, suspended for all to bear witness, an example of the great bestial powers; finally, the cruel spirit of the mists, mirthfully masochistic, inflicting its wounds to the vital areas in its many-tentacled form, patiently lashing in sequence so as to wage a ceaseless assault on all the souls within its unyielding grasp.

I sense the ominous approach of the unholy triumvirate as the daylight fades. The storm approaches and my sanity wavers. I know that these cursed fruits from those poisonous seeds sown many aeons ago will soon be reaped. The harvest will be bountiful.

Such is the eternal struggle. And yet, war is waged by two sides. And my soul, though resigned to the imminent conflict, will be valiant, will make its stand. I will not be vanquished, I will not be conquered. My resolve will prove victorious over these false gods, as it always has. I shall not falter.

Erasure

Erasure (no, not this one), a necessary process for my psychological well-being. My mental drainage system works really hard to keep my shitty ideas from backing up and making a hot corroded mess. Admittedly, a fair amount of my choicest aggravations are predominantly theoretical at best (or, in other words, fucking fictional). But, regardless of their origins, they function as efficient ravagers, eating away at my viscera like a swarm of piranhas. Pesky plaguey buggers. Sometimes all that’s needed is a nice amnestic, to do away the burdens of our sins and to carry us into the fairer fields of Elysium, or wherever. 

Some songs help to remind me of the benefits forgetting, letting go of erring moments (real or imagined). This song has been a regular on my playlist for years but listening to it this morning on the drive back while in my current corrupted state really reminds me of that one of the best things that Guð has created is indeed the new day.

Chronos

Time moves ahead with its usual unrelenting fury. Already, we are in the middle of July; already, those songs that I had scoffed at for being too preemptive in ruing the end of summer's warmth have steadily gained relevance. Oh how I wish the gears of time would for a moment grind to a standstill so I could catch my breath and rediscover my bearings. I feel myself becoming once again submerged in the pale hazy malaise of a dream world where I am a wholly passive agent that life acts upon, a powerless limping body being tossed around in the endless ocean's crashing waves. And yet, however much that I yearn that some miraculous brake would be applied, this unstoppable force will surely trump this surely movable object.

Here's Johnny

I thought I had found the perfect hiding place but it seems to have found me once again. With the side of the juggernaut axe now visible through the door, I see the face of my eternal accuser, its eyes piercing into my soul as easily as its instrument of destruction had pierced the woefully feeble wood. For an instant I too catch a glimpse into its depths but there is nothing: a void spanning as infinitely as the universe, self destructive and bereft of hope. My protective instinct rejects its intrusion but this vile contagion seems content to invite itself and for a second I am lose my senses. Paralyzed, I cannot retaliate. But, the light be praised, my spirit musters some resolve and pushes against the crushing tide. Not enough to overpower but certainly enough for me to escape and recede into my next hiding spot. It won't find me again here, I'm sure of it.

Καρκίνος

I once again feel the heavy mass in my chest weighing me down. Visibly protruding, it pulsates and oozes darkness, threatening to infect anyone who dares come near. Certainly the last thing I myself would ever want to do, but, then again, it's not like I ever had any semblance of control over its cruel gluttony. No sentience exists within its confines, only an unceasing hunger that consumes until all that fall upon its gaze has been extinguished. In many respects, it resembles a cancerous growth. The most curious aspect of cancer is that it is not at all a foreign body. They are all host cells, merely transformed. Of course, close examination can readily distinguish the normal from the truly abnormal (i.e. the truly destructive). However, unless one applies the most exquisite of scrutinies, the more insidious anomalies will often remain unseen. And there, in obscurity, they will remain, biding their time, festering, and always striking during some zenith of the host's complacency. An unfortunately familiar process.

And, so, what ought I do with this entity of most unendearment? Hmm... I guess I'll just blog about it.

Ghosts

I saw the outline of the back of her figure and thought to myself it could not have been her. But still the absurdity of that scenario drew me to investigate further. I watched as she made a turn and I saw the side of a face that I had once known. My heart raced wildly. Why was she here? This was my world, well apparently not. Whatever the circumstance, I didn't want to see her. Fingers trembling, I ran and hid inside the other room. Ok, she seemed to go into the library, probably to study? So I just sat there for a moment to regain my composure. I'll just wait here for a couple of minutes and promptly make a break for the exit. Surely that was as close as our paths align. Surely not, for the second I finally mustered the courage to exit the room and head for the exit, who should appear exiting simultaneously. Courage shattered, I turned around instantaneously, sat on a table, and just breathed deeply. This is stupid. I cautiously inspected the exterior to ensure there would no longer be anymore of this inversed (perversed) serendipity.

I left and saw her figure moving in the direction opposite to mine and I heaved a heavy sigh, raised my fists against the Moirai, and ... just laughed. This was not the fate I was consigned to and I refuse to accept it. And, suddenly, an all-too-familiar lyric suddenly rang through my ears "það besta sem guð hefur skapað er nýr dagur", from "Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása" by Sigur Rós: "The best thing that God has given us is a new day".

It is a new day, so I won't bother you anymore, ok? I'm still very sorry I did that to you and, while there is nothing I can do to ever change those events, I will try my best to hide in the shadows so that I will one day be forever faded away from your conscious memory. That would probably be the best way to go.

Apparently, ok

Apparently, I'm alive. It's a strange revelation that periodically flashes through my mind, more often lately. I don't really feel alive though. Nay, much more an apparition do I feel ... one moving from one room to another, one hour to the next, with only the incessant noise from the essential contraption connecting the moments. Right now, I'm just waiting ... waiting for me to finish studying the current chapter, for licensing to come up, for that stupid hospital to get back to me about how they didn't think I'd be an appropriate hire three weeks ago. I don't know how much life can really be breathed into the tenuous spaces left in between those crags. I've had many misconceptions in the past. But I sincerely hope that after this final period of waiting (final for the current phase, please spare me the bullshit platitudes of waiting being a continuous function of life, seriously go fuck yourself if you were even tempted to fucking tell me something that trite and cliché ... fuck you [god why am i so mad right now]).

Anyway, here I am, in as much peace as I can be in given the circumstances. I sit on the beach's shore with my arms wrapped around my knees. The waves grow steadily and impact me with greater force and greater heights. I stare into the distance and wait with bated breath for these waxing waves to peak and pass.

Um... I probably didn't express properly what I had initially intended to but... that's ok.

tick tock

the clock ticks, the leaky faucet drips

eagerly i await for the dawn to come
to arise out of the shadows
that darken these corners of this room
in which i seem to have been trapped

to be emancipated from the cruel taskmaster would be ideal
to be relieved of the unceasing ennui would be desirable
to be simply reminded of what life was above the waters would be sufficient

falling, disintegrating, crashing
how brightly shines the meteor in its final moments
an aeon of existence yet only known for a fraction of a second
its solitary travels through the void were, predictably, unremarkable by onlookers

hello, age-old companion
even though i had hoped to be rid of you by now
life seems to have intended for a different path
per profunda repo (iterum)

Shoulda woulda coulda

A while ago, for a few months, I volunteered at this pharmacy to "get some experience". Well, overall it was unremarkable and unedifying. But the pharmacy technician there was always really helpful. She was the only person that would really show me anything. I get the feeling she advocated for me the most out of all of them there. Well, I got to see her again today after over a year. We exchanged a few pleasant casual words and went along our way (she did recognize me). Now that I look back, I should've said thanks. I don't think I ever got a chance to say that to her when I left. Must've slipped my mind or something... Anyway, next time I see you, I'll try my hardest to remember to tell you. Thanks Christine (I think that was your name... lol), I think you were the only good parts of the memories I have of that place.

Musings of Insanity 2

My idling mind stares into the deep blue evening sky. Should I do something more than just sitting on my ass waiting for life to arrive. Obviously that's not how it works. Only a fool would ever suggest that. And I have not yet been afflicted with such a level of ignorance.

But here I am still, waiting. Should I choose the path of inaction, would the karmic world condemn me? Probably I would be cursed to a paltry, tedious, and trite-filled life. Truthfully, some are destined to achieve much greatness while others (a far greater number, I imagine) are destined to languish in mediocrity (if they would be so lucky). I will let you, the reader, to surmise the faction to which I have sworn my undying allegiance.

But perhaps one day I will be awakened to my true senses and the world will finally make sense, with some semblance of conviction as illuminating as the early dawn's light. I will arise and strike with great vengeance, a vengeance against all material mundane that had before clouded my immature perceptions. I will see it, clearly outlined, the personification of my malaise and apprehensions. I will not hesitate for a moment as I reach out and do upon it great violence, a variety of act typically fit only for the lower animals. A tad self-destructive, but a necessary process that must be undertaken prior to any rebirth. And out of that weary, ravaged husk will arise the flaming magnificence of the phoenix, with burning passion coursing through its veins, ready to surge through all obstacles unabated to achieve its goals with the purest of conviction.

Well, that would be nice anyway ...

Musings of Insanity 1

One day I'll leave and on that day I will finally feel relief. Never will I have to deal with this world's despicable transience. A seemingly unending cycle perpetuating itself into oblivion. An endless recycling of matter and concept, the old disguised as new. How many have been afflicted before me and how many more will there be after? An infinite legion. We never learn or maybe we just learn much too slowly for transience to appreciate (and benefit from).

I wonder how the future will look back on us as we are today. Will they be rueful for the great wealth that we languish in? Will they view us with utter contempt at our present barbarism ... our greed, our self-absorption, our continued willful negligence and ignorance? I hope they will judge us to be fools. I hope they condemn us all for squandering our abundance. We deserve at least that much and much much more. Surely, the coming of tomorrow's dawn will mark the time when the last few grains of sand we hold flow away between our fingers. A seemingly undeniable reality that we are too obstinate to accept as we drown out the warning alarms with our superficial musings and our contrived laughter.

Oh happy day...

Oh happy day, the stars are brightly shini... no those aren't the right lyrics. Well anyway, it was a significant day (not particularly for me but for the happy couple of newlyweds). A day worthy of celebration undoubtedly. Also a day of epiphanies, especially for someone as neurotically introverted as I...

I guess today was interesting in that while I think we as a species are ultimately ephemeral/transient beings, there are times that we do seem to try to live in opposition to that. Take marriage, for example, that is a perfect example of a "rejection of transience", if you will. With it, a couple declares a commitment to perpetuate something they've developed for as long as they can, defying the waves of life that may attempt to push those joined apart. Well, anyway, this was the lesser of the two observations.

The more pressing observation was that I realized that I'm a huge kid, just a huge 25 year old kid. And I mean that in a very serious way that's not attempting to extract sympathy. I've never really had, or probably more accurately "taken", the opportunity to live life for myself. To put it briefly, I've yet to take significant risks. Everything I've done has really been in this context of a very safe and probably cloistered environment. This is probably one of those significant contributors to my insecurity when I talk to other people around my age. It seems everyone has gone somewhere to do something ... whatever it may be. And I'm just here... running around in circles as it feels sometimes. Doing... very... similar things everyday, being in very similar places everyday. I can't help but think that maybe it would've been more ... beneficial overall... if I had exposed myself to more. But, no, I never did. And now here I am, lost in the light of the moon that seeps through my window (no, those are lyrics...). I look out the window often and I wonder what's out there. I really want to find out one day. Well, soon, when I make my own money I suppose. It just never really felt right to do those things on someone else's dime, especially when they're already contributing so much for other things in my life. And, clearly, I was always too lackadaisical to earn my own keep, you know. Shame on me, perhaps. Well, whatever... we're almost there. Maybe one day, I'll be like those crepuscular rays that seem to find their ways through the seemingly constant cloud-front.

Bakudo

I want to give up ... not that that has ever or will ever be an option, obviously. But, seriously, after so long of 'giving it my best' only to come up with the same sub-standard mediocrity, I'm really finding it difficult to muster the motivation to keep this shitship afloat. I mean, it really is just a matter of incompetence. There are smarter ways I can study but I, the perpetually stubborn fool, can never accept it until the water reaches up to my neck.

...fuck off

Strange Days

Good morning
Don't cop out
You crawled from the cancer to land on your feet
Are you crazy...
To want this...
Even for a while?

The first verse of "Strange Days" by Matthew Good Band seems to be especially poignant of late. I think I'm finally feeling the initial burnout period after studying for far too long. Some stat (though one that was most probably biased) said that 73% of pharmacists aren't happy with job/career. How hilarious would it be if, after a near decade in studying, that I fall under the percentage. I might seem like a pessimistic guy but I really do try to stick things out even when things seem bad at first. Of course, now that I've tried that strategy a few times, hindsight does seem to indicate that for majority of the time a passive waiting approach really does jack-shit for me. Blah blah blah, please spare me the bullshit platitudes about taking initiative, if you think this type of "general advice" is anything remotely novel to me, I'd humbly submit that you should gracefully go fuck yourself.

Well anyway, it's a great song, one that I've been listening to for well over a decade, and I can actually sing it relatively well (imo). I'm still surprisingly motivated enough to wake up at 7 to catch a ride with my aunt to the subway (no pleb bus for me in the morning woo). I just hope desperately that I can last through the next two months.

I wish I wasn't here.

A futile maneuver

For the past bit, whenever I go to restaurants or coffee shops, I get this weird feeling when I look around. What I see is very run-of-the-mill: normal people eating, families with young children and grandparents, young couples smiling and enjoying each other's company. And I see myself, in a similar position, eating with my own family or friends (um... not the couple one, obviously). It's a strange notion, that I'm just sitting there, stuffing my face with this food, paid for by this money that, by some great miracle, seems to exist as my own property. It's a strange notion because beyond the restaurant walls, there's an entire world that is characterized by strife and tragedy. There are people out there who would count themselves lucky enough to eat three relatively substantial meals with less than the cost of my single meal, people out there who call pizza once a month a luxury, people out there caught in the midst of war, some of whom may even simply cease to exist before I can finish my meal. And, yet, despite all that, I sit there maneuvering the airplane into my mouth so I can satiate some inane physiological desire. Not just me, not just this particular establishment, but this scene multiplied by every similar iteration on the planet. It is as if we all share in a communal idle, enacting this collective apathy to the world just outside the front doors that seal us in our comfortable seclusion, to a world that, in fact, desperately needs our collective effort to pull it through to tomorrow. And yet, we sit and wait for our meals like ignorant children, unwilling to accept the harsh realities that permeate the lives of so many of our fellow compatriots. And, of course, in my oh-so-typical style, I just sit there like the best of them and, while my mind futilely flashes these impressions to me, I lack the spine to follow those things my heart seems to exclaim with all its might. Like a good little boy, I eat my fucking noodles, with a tinge of guilt ... but that's for damn sure not gonna help anyone. So say we all!

Goodbye, trees

Now that majority of the deciduous leaves have converted from their typically green dispositions, I can finally say with certainty that fall has indeed arrived. The season has a different feeling this time around; there's a more definite sense of conclusion. While my body aches from yoga, my mind aches for my unceasing academic career to end (or at least take a break of a few years). Although that time is coming very soon, I've been around this university long enough to say with certainty that it will not just go gently into the night. It will thrash, it will tear, and it will try to consume every last piece of my soul before finally being cast by my final strike. Assured is my victory but I still am not looking forward to the very imminent strife. The falling leaves remind me that time is indeed still progressing at its usual unrelenting pace. They remind me that tomorrow is coming and will always just be around the corner. When I see these downed leaves, it also strikes me that this may be one of the last times I can really experience this season in this city as comprehensively as I do right now. In a way, those leaves might very well be the final goodbyes from those trees. 

Quite poetic for some fucking leaves right?

zzz

I don't really participate in a lot of the Christian rituals nowadays. Hell, I barely like associating with the overtly theological. But, there is definitely something of value that the religion still holds for me. Maybe it's just me being nostalgic for a time when life was less worrisome. I was able to spend a little time reflecting on religion and its role in my life as it is right now. And so, the question arose: how exactly do I fit in Christianity and its sometimes unwieldy theological notions into my life as it is right now? It's late and I don't have to consciousness required to write a very long post so I'll just write down what stuck out for me today. Well, without using overt theology, which I find has the risk of appearing and existing as lip service. God isn't as specific an entity as he "felt" back in the day. It's honestly hard for me to believe that God is a truly active being right now. But I do believe that he is at least a thread that connects my life together and it helps to direct me on a conceptual level. Anyway, what I realized in the midst of drowning in my growing pool of anxiety and regret, is that I shouldn't worry about tomorrow. Even if all those things that I'm striving towards fails tomorrow, I'll still wake up the next day, just to continue living a life where loving others matters. The rest of these details, while still important, shouldn't be allowed to drag me to hell. I should breathe a little more I guess ...

vesper placidus

My, my, being downtown first thing in the morning is nothing foreign to me but doing it on a Saturday, today might've actually been a first for me. Well, after a surprisingly enjoyable training session about how to stick someone with a needle (something I still can't legally do for a year despite the training) and a less enjoyable attempt at doing readings, I went for a walk around campus. Boy, was this Saturday evening different from the weekdays. On top of the peculiar paucity of people, they closed down a fair number of roads (for some sort of book festival). The sun had recently come out of hiding after a day that had been mostly characterized by rain (finally got to use that umbrella after, how long's it been, 3 months?).

So picture this: standing still, with the sun sandwiched between the cloud line and the horizon shining clearly to the right and with birds fervently jumping back and forth along a vine wall to the left, the normal university hubbub with its busy-bodies and integrated city traffic strangely absent replaced with the sounds of chirping and the muffled sounds of a piano playing in a closed room somewhere in the near distance, all bundled together with the smell of fresh, cool, moist air that follows after any long period of rain in the autumn (I guess technically it's late summer, given that autumn officially starts tomorrow). What a very welcome novelty.

I've never been a particularly experiential guy, but I would like to remember this moment.