It’s been a while since my last post, eh? Life’s been a blaze like a zombie on fire: stunned and confused, yet knew exactly what to do although never knowing how to execute it.
This’ll be a short one, so I’ll cut straight to the chase. I’ve been having nightmares every night for the past week.
Usually, I can immediately catch myself in a dream, and I could sometimes ride along it. However these nightmares have been working me to the bone. I wake up thinking they’re real, and each one involves some sort of terrible life changing experience.
Most of the nightmares are like recurrences of my some parts of my life, but the anxiety intensity has been cranked to a nine. What’s more intriguing is that my mother is always involved. I never dream about my mother, so you can see why I would think that these hellish episodes were documentaries and not some wicked M. Night Shaymalan fiction flicks.
I’m beginning to think that my anxiety is attacking my unconsciousness. I’ve been a bit on edge for the past few weeks, and this could be a manifestation of it. Why my mother is involved, I will never know.
Hopefully I can sleep tonight without freaking the fuck out.
What sleeps beneath your wasting husk
Wakes when the twilight clock is struck
Ask it whether it friend or foe
Illuminate that was unknown
Do fangs appear when once sincere
Or rain so clear when held so dear
That perfect crust so smooth and gold
Is that what should the eyes behold?
Mayhaps not mask but shield you wield
Then steeled your heart forever sealed
Unconscious frowns and conscious smiles
Shall toss your ghost in flame and trial
Discard the shield, the crust, the mask
Ignite the hidden powder flask
Let brightness shine like caviar
Then live forever among the stars
I was looking at my old entries especially those that were written before my undergrad thesis days. I noticed how much more beautifully I wrote back then. Each sentence was meticulously written where each word meant something, and when you tied them all together it would create a colourful painting.
Ever since I took poetry class, I integrated my lessons into how I would translate imagery into text. I wanted to paint a picture through senses and emotions. It felt close and personal, and almost voyeuristic.
I think that was my main focus on writing–to provide a direct connection from senses, emotions, and experiences to text. But as I got more and more into research, my writing style started to change.
I was more focused at building a narrative, a coherent story, a journey that would take the reader from point A to point B. Think of it this way: my poetry writing style focused on illustrating a snapshot in time while my narrative writing has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
Finally knowing the difference between the two, I have to find a way to join the best of both worlds while making the least compromise. Continue reading “Random realisations”
There was this girl who helped put me back in my tracks a few years ago. No, this isn’t my ex or the Japanese girl I used to talk about.
Anyway, this girl once told me that my anger towards my father is going to consume me one day. She said that revenge isn’t going to solve anything, and it isn’t going to bring me closer to what I want. She also told me that if I successfully delivered suffering, people would seek revenge on me. The cycle would only continue.
I ignored her advice for the longest. From 2009 to 2014, that anger towards my father was what kept me going. I wanted to go abroad, learn all the skills needed to deliver as much suffering as I possibly could, earn staggering amounts of money, change my name and appearance, garner influence, and come back as someone else.
I wanted to be the Count of Monte Cristo. He was my role model for executing the perfect revenge. I would imagine myself laughing at my father while he polished my shoes. It was the sense of power over someone that got me going. I loved the idea of being better than my father. I wanted to show him that he amounted to nothing.
Continue reading “The Count of Monte Cristo has Died”
This is my last term DLSU. Yes, I am opening this blog entry with the idea of leaving. For the past months, that seems to be theme I’ve been living in. Goodbye academic world and hello working world! Please take it easy on this unemployed fresh grad with zero professional work experience. Wouldn’t that be Utopian?
Thesis and internship invaded so much of my personal life that I haven’t been able to finish three books since the start of the year. My mother’s finished four books in a month! I drowned in a sea of envy during my “thesis writing sessions” when I saw her reading on the couch whilst drinking tea. Since thesis is done, I get to read my book during breaks at the office.
Interning is giving me some rather interesting things to think about. A few days after I started, I rode a jeepney to said company, and the driver was this really jolly guy. He had friends everywhere along the route he drove. His smile revealed rotting teeth but he wasn’t afraid to show his happiness he created along that route of his. It hit me that this guy, someone who’s probably never gone through college, high school or even elementary, is happier than I am. I pretty much have everything I could ever need–opportunities for a better future. Yet this guy has found the happiness that I’ve been trying so hard to find. Sure enough, he’d be happy if he had a better paying job. But I think he’d miss the people.
Anyway, I have 3 weeks, 3 day, and 5 hours left in my internship. I hope something interesting happens.