the soft music plays on.

it's either the extreme fatigue setting in , or a resounding chord resonating from deep within the heart that's causing me to constantly flirt with the idea of dîner pour deux.

wait till i muster up enough courage.

Today, it goes by a new name.

We’re all grown up now. I begin to recall times when I, as a kid, used to laugh and poke fun of those much older and as with the ignorance of a young kid, it never occurred to be the connotations behind the word ‘old’, until now. It was stunningly hilarious how people quivered at its’ mention and stubbornly refused to admit to being old.

The tide’s turned now, and we are all of age. And in an awkward sense it feels as if we are running towards an insurmountable wall of water that can’t seem to wait to crash head on onto us. Peering hard into that wall seems to be like a peek into the future; studies, decisions, career, life choices, responsibilities, family etc. Call it fear on my part, but I believe no one can stare at the future straight in the eye and not see the fear from within, the uncertainty that gives you the jitters. And maybe that’s why people fear the words, because the fear comes from within, the fear is found in Reflection. And unlike Narcissus who saw beauty, most of our eyes catch onto the flicker of fear embedded within. And yes, now I see it – how the word holds a culmination of Pain, Happiness, Sorrow and that whole avalanche of emotional expression, and beyond all that it holds Uncertainty (which eats you from within before you even know it). And in some ways perhaps that is why men of strong and modern ladies of today cringe at its mention.

Today I met up with old friends from school and unlike before the topics were about career, studies and life choices. It seemed the conversations about having loads of fun, skipping class, going to training and all happened eons ago. It seemed we left it behind the day we left school and maybe that’s why the teachers’ were giving us advice on life before we left, because deep down they knew that some day those words would resonate in our minds – and lead us to hopefully greener pastures. Then again, it leaves me to think which is more painful; to watch people that you know tread into a labyrinth of thorns yet bearing a smile, or stepping yourself into a cavern of evil bearing laughter and smiles – oblivious to what lies ahead. In some ways, it embodies how we were – young, oblivious, harboring lofty ambitions of building a utopia.

Yes. It comes, undoubtedly. The pain of old comes in waves, and stronger, more aggression each time;

“The bargain, Rivers thought, looking at Abraham and Isaac. The one on which all patriarchal societies are founded. If you, who are young and strong, will obey me, who am old and weak, even to the extent of being prepared to sacrifice your life, then in the course of your time you will peacefully inherit, and be able to exact the same obedience from your sons.”
-Pat Barker, Regeneration

Ha, “Altruism, my friend, will sooner or later clash head on with Pragmatism.”
Maybe as I grew up reading this, I believed somewhere in my heart of hearts that perhaps Altruism might emerge victorious in their battle and breathe humanity into humans.

Well that was before I found out, Pragmatism goes by a new name these days – Survival.

anagnorisis

do you know the kind of feeling that leaves you rooted to the spot and gutted; as if someone knocked the wind out of you?

do you still dream? or have you been so afflicted by the system that the perspectives of pragmatism and realism is slowly feasting on those dreams?

sighs. too many thoughts with insufficient time to accomodate all of it.

sniff, it is invigorating.

HAD I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
-William Butler Yeats (he wishes for the cloths of heaven)

i read this poem at the end of an amazing photo collage at my uncle's wedding, and yes, the scent of love in the air is a little more intoxicating tonight. ha.