A Rant

Now that I am sufficiently recovered from the month of literary abandon, I think that I can probably write a few more things here.

Time does fly rather quickly when one is not paying too much attention to it, either through the flow of time itself, or through pure procrastination. So many things have occurred within the month of November, and sometimes I just wonder if I truly knew what was going on or more importantly, what had happened. The month of literary abandon; it's probably an escapism for me, to run away from the issues that have been troubling me all these while, to hide from my worries in the hope that when I'm finally ready to meet them, I would be strong enough to face them one by one in a controlled manner, as opposed to being completely lost in my senses in dealing with them all in one go.

I'm making lots of changes in life. November is a month of change, in many ways. The sadness that plagued me in the past still exists, but is even more carefully wrapped up among the layers of time and shielding and protective shell that I have constructed around myself. Time will come again when these layers are once more removed to expose the rather vulnerable self that is the ``real'' me. Meanwhile, more and more changes are coming in place. One novel done, a few revisions of an aimless personal statement for graduate school applications have been written and discarded; I'm finally ready to start writing personal statements that actually concretely answers the questions that are asked in each of the seven different applications. Yes, there is large amounts of change alright.

I've decided to grow out a moustache. I'm still deciding whether to wear my hair long or short, but given the circumstance in which I am in (hot and humid weather that is Singapore), I'm probably just going to go for the short hair as per usual. Maybe when I'm in graduate school, I will just keep my hair long and tie it in a pony tail or something, just to separate the me from the past from the me in the present who is going towards the future. Oh, a moustache, `why?' one might ask. It's a characteristic change; facial hair has always been deemed ``masculine'', and moustaches have a way of keeping women away, something that I am most inclined to do for this upcoming two years---I swore an oath to myself to not be involved in petty relationship-related things during the upcoming two years, starting from August this year. I just don't want to be hurt again; it is hard on myself because I need to actually recover from the blow, and the recovery process tends to be nearly twice as long as a relationship truly took. Recovery is not fun nor easy; it doesn't help when one's surroundings are full of peers who have married/are getting married, since it just keeps opening up the wounds that were just barely freshly healing.

Wounds. Deep, deep wounds of the heart, things that cannot be easily fixed, as far as I know. There's no known cure for healing the heart; the best that we have to date is to let time do the healing. Yet time itself is a double-edged sword; it heals alright, but it also causes a lot of discomfort along the way, with all the yearnings that need to be controlled, the musings of what-if that needs to be reduced, and the sudden pangs of sadness that strike when one suddenly feels the absence of one who was once so close to the self. These are feelings that are hard to put precisely in words; maybe only those who have fallen in and out of love can truly comprehend what I am saying here.

Weirdness. Till now, I am still as weird/odd as ever. Few people see me beyond that veneer of happiness that I show around, with my wacky ways and somewhat relaxed outlook. But that is just a façade that I put up for the world---I've said many times that it is easier to just project one particular personality to certain groups of people so that it makes it easier for them to process the [limited] complexity that governs my personality and behaviour.

Occult calculations and other pseudo-scientific methods of divination have predicted that it is my life path to be loved by everyone than by an other, and as time goes by, I am starting to become a believer of that prophecy myself, given all that I have been through and all else that I think I will be going through. But like all skeptics, I still have my reservations in believing completely in something that is not well reasoned from first principles, but that nagging sensation is getting harder and harder to ignore. Maybe there is a higher purpose in my life that transcends getting closer to a special someone to love; maybe the assimilation of knowledge is the purpose of my life, instead of love. But how would I know?

Past and present, juxtapositions of different temporal zones. Sometimes I feel as though I'm trapped in some kind of time trap, with no easy way to escape. There is always this feeling of a higher dimension that I am vaguely aware of, yet cannot fully attain---it is puzzling indeed. But why would I care anyway? I'm a fatalist in many ways, believing to a large degree that there's a limit on what we can do under the ambit of free will; all that we think to be free will can most likely be a false feeling of being in control, for is it not true that we all do die in the end, no matter what choices we make? Seeing life as an end of the means is just the most ridiculous way of looking at things---it is the most depressing. Life is about the journey, not the destination. Screw higher purpose, screw meaning; we make things up as we go along with life: the things that make more sense, we keep them and for those that don't make any sense, we can just dump them and move on. What's the point of dogma or the idea that there exists one true idea that all must conform to?

Okay, I'm getting off tangent. That's the problem of splitting up a post into multiple writing sessions, since it gets increasingly hard to keep the line of thought more or less consistent, particularly also when the afternoon heat is getting to the mind and keeping it sufficiently sedated that sleep seems to be the most welcoming thing now.

Maybe something less incoherent the next time.