The Market Today

The nucleic effect of the sub prime mortgage, the melt down of financial markets, the advent of a world wide recession… How many could see it coming, how many have prepared for it? I wouldn’t know… Some say it’s just “slowing down”, while some adhere to the doctrine of “What goes up must come down”. I belong to the latter…

Governments are dumping in tax payers’ money giving tax cuts and stimulus packages, only to delay the inevitable… But it is during times like these a visible line could be seen between the optimists and the pessimists. Taking opinions from 2, I could only decide to shift my standings along the balance of both.

Unemployment rates are forecasted to rise to as high as 6%... But when you are all out of job, unemployment rate is 100% to you. I’ve seen how a recession starts and its happening all over again. More crime, more unemployment, more suicides, and more poverty… A vicious cycle, tumbling down the bell curved sequence. A reset button to this economy which once flourished - everything needs to be restarted at some point somehow or another… Like life, like love, like computers…

These economics and all, they are not rocket science… They are change, an indefinite change that we could only roughly envisage yet inexplicable even after 2 millennia of studies. What we need to do is not to avoid change, what we need to do is not cutting rates and injecting money into this system… What we need to do, is to embrace it with every dollar we have… Reality is a tough pill to swallow, but that’s life…

The Great In Between

There is never a place I belong, never an emotion I could hold on for long, for I exist in this state of the great in between. I am neither in the past, present nor future, but somewhere in between. I don’t feel hate or love, but somewhere in between…

I exist in this continuum between yesterday and tomorrow. There is never today and today has never been here in the first place. As each second unwinds, the future transmute into the past at a pace we call present… But how do we even define present? Along the seconds and milliseconds of the delineated present we exist, there is never a real or true present. Present tense is just a fratulent composition along the symbology of the human error. What we truly exist, is in this cosmic chasm, in the midst of the past and the future… Present is just a dogma, created to fill in the gaps of this great in between…

In the rifted juxtaposition of hate and love, I hang in the balance of both sides, pivoting me on the fence are the tenuous memories of past times. I can’t feel either of them anymore, not even anger, rage or forgiveness. Between the lovers and the strangers we inevitably became, are the perfidies of her… Shattering the credence between me and love, severing the ties of all that made me love, in between, I am just trying to lie to myself to the best of my convictions… To make believe in this thing called hope, which will only vaporize at the wake of every morning Sun.

I am stuck in this great in between, torn in the rift of two realms and/or entities… I do not dare to take sides, for I am neither a saint nor a sinner. I am just your average mortal…

Love is...

...the brief moment between breathing in and breathing out.

When you've drawn them in and taken them deep within yourself. When you're full of them and you just pause for that one beat. Totally sustained and happy and fulfilled.

And then you let them go. They rush out of you and into memory. And you spend a while releasing them completely. And sometimes you spend too long.

And then you breathe them in once more. Or you breathe in someone new.



Or you never breathe again.

Gallimaufry Thoughts

My words come from dictionaries I've checked. Phrases, carboned into my thoughts along the texts I've read. Ideas, contorted along the lines of rationality that I have come to understand... I add them all up, and shake them all around... Here it lies, my gallimaufrey thoughts...

I am just bending words and twisting thoughts. I'm a magician, but not of the illusionary sort, I create thoughts against my oxymoronic state, against the societal norms my ancestors has brought down. I used old ideas, mixed them with new ideas, to form my ideas. I delete obsolete knowledge but kept an archive of it somewhere in my brain to relate to the new things I see every day... Then I came to this place, get them all sorted out and put it into words so people could possibly understand. These words I type, these entries I published... They are just abstracts of me in other people's words...

As I stare into the void of darkness, I could feel the darkness enshrouding me, swallowing me slowly... Then, all my thoughts just sink into the silence, my struggle tarrying to the still of night. All has left me, except this tranquil peace of mind... No more emptiness, no more pain, no more heartaches... Just this serenity that soothes my soul in its endless skirmish against her and love.

I'm tired... Exhausted... Enervated... I just want to fade away...

Mindworks

I hate how the mind works, one moment its idyllic, the next bored, the next creative and then out of the blue it sneaks in a depressing thought. Her, why now? For almost a month, I thought shards of her have already evaporated off my mind… But reading about a movie online, the next thought that came through my mind was her...

In the absolute conviction of the infinitesimal possibilities over the past 2 months, things beyond my grasps and my intellectual capacity oscillates and gaps through the certainties I once aimed to achieve. Everyday, something beyond my thoughts and anticipation happens - Coincidentally, accidentally, fatefully and at times suddenly… Breaking my chain of thoughts and the logic behind all the science and common sense I possess, I could only accept the reality as they are. Everything happens for a reason… Sometimes the reason is rational, at times the rationale doesn’t even make sense and most of the time, things just happen without any of the above… Things like why I still think of her after she's gone…

Everyday is a lesson; everyday is a gift to be opened, that’s why it is called - Present. Everyday there is something good, we just have to open our eyes to see it, even though most of the time it is small and seemingly insignificant. Regardless, it is still there and I can see them now. It’s what gives me the strength to get up everyday and get going. It’s what made me be in love with her everyday though I didn’t know it at that time, and even when she wasn’t in love with me anymore, I could still see the small things everyday that made me love her. I wish she had seen the same things…

Alone

All fixed, fast, and now alone.. Suspended between the balance of past and present... Frozen relations; an epitome of a stagnant love. Venerable preconceived judgments and convictions are all swept away, all new formed ones become antiquated before they could even ossify... All that is one has broken into pieces, all that is holy is profaned, and last I am compelled to face reason right in the face... The reason of being alone...

Chagrined by the very person I once hold dear. I realised that I am nothing more than just a footnote in her chapter of life... Insignificant is the word, the very one word that describes me in her life. Brokened is another word, the very word that describes me and now... I thought I have pieced myself again, carried whats remained of my heart and soul to another place. But when I saw them again, I lost grip of what's remained...

Alone... Once part of a great pantheon of mighty thought and symbols, the allegory of supremacy. A conformation of like ideas and disparate ideology, vast and variant like the eternal cosmos... Verdant and virile - a furcated morphemes, the very building blocks of sentience and civilization... I have transcended time and I am now in the very basic stage of life, the stage of being alone...

Masquerade of Life

All of us are in this grand masquerade, among the throng of people, we seek expectantly... We often would come across people in various facade, people that wants to know us because of ulterior motives and intentions... But at times, we also come across people without masks, people that faces us with true and pure disposition. Whenever we met someone veracious and immaculate, we find ourselves unknowingly removing our societal masks too... That electrifying trice of truth, that very moment of self discovery...

Before this revelation, we were drifting aimlessly, not knowing what we really wanted. We searched high and low for someone who could at least understand us, someone who is able to befriend us regardless of all the generic masks we wear. And when we met this particular person, we may realise that what we really want is not what we have wished for in the first place. Friends and soul mates does not come in a standard template, and more often than not they may not have been what we are expecting all along...

Fate is not something meant to be forced upon, and my body is absorbing it day by day. What is yours will eventually come to your arms; what is not yours will never come to be. In any case, I should not lose heart and give up on hopes for love that is true, good and beautiful.

The value of life, in a certain sense, is determined by the maturity of how we love. Of how we give and accept love. I guess, letting go is also a way of giving love...

The "Right" World

Along the paper race and quest for knowledge, we got transfixed into the rigid education system of getting things "right". In school we are taught the rights and wrongs, but to what extend do we confer right from wrong? Who are we in the first place to even say something is right? It's astounding how many people in this current day and age are still consuming knowledge at book value, without doubts or questions...

An assemblage and combination of thoughts into a unitary whole, forms a sentence. The formulation of words and the subsets of topological space gives birth to something we call textbooks... Yet through the ravages of time, these thoughts and ideas just corrode and oxidize into older editions. Edition 2's replacing Edition 1's only to be supplanted by another Edition 3's...

The thought of idea itself becoming obsolete is rather intriguing and at the same time intimidating. For knowledge itself is the very definition of cornucopia. And yet the information from this horn itself has an expiry date tagged in fine prints... It shouldn't be this way...

Just because we are told something is right, it doesn't necessarily be right... This "right" world we are living in, could have been a big mistake right in the very first place...

9

Somehow, whenever I see this number on a date or a calender, it reminds me of her... Stuck in between the number of losing her and them being together. I got lost on the path to recovery...

Sentimental some says, stupid to others, but that is just me... Everyone says it will happen give it time, there is someone better for you out there. That seems like so much sympathetic eloquent and insincere rhetoric, like they just know who I will run into and what I am looking for. Maybe its easy for most people to just give their hearts and emotions away but not for me. I don’t know what I need anymore for that or how to find someone if I did. The part of me that had that ability is long gone, the player if it were has been retired along the time my heart emptied, and I can’t get back into that life style even if I wanted to. I could only give when I am full, but now, there's nothing within me, only that lingering pain and perhaps betrayal...

I feel destined to be alone, that now I am actually moving forward instead of backward or staying still. I am no longer just a rock in the river of time. Perhaps its better this way, you don’t feel obligated to be there for someone, you don’t have to feel concerned for someone else’s well being, you can make your own decisions and just move on with life and what ever happens only affects you. But somehow, this emptiness just consumes me whenever I'm alone and not doing things...

By the time this entry is done, it's now 10... The anniversary of losing her is over, and their commemoration of togetherness has just begun...

Supply Chain

The only time I last saw a supply chain was when I am working in a factory... At that time, my perception of it was just a mundane, lifeless job. A profession that requires precision and zero creation. But threading along the belts of despondency, I found that we are indeed just a metaphor of a supply chain called life...

As experience hosts me over a 22 years peregrinate, I am exalted by the wide array of emotions and lessons life has delivered upon me. As the trucks of fate arrived, they bring in different packages and some suitcases along with it. These cargo comes in all shapes and sizes, some are heavier than the others, some are sealed tighter, but they are all labeled differently. Some came tagged with one word; Sadness, Pain, Happiness, Regrets... Some came in phrases; Happiness in Disguise, The best way out is always through, Only through groundlessness will I inevitably grow, Make your life a mission - Not an intermission. Some came in really long sentences like one I recently received; Life is interesting precisely because we have to battle all kinds of ups and downs.

All these packages came from various suppliers; companies called friends, acquaintences, crushes, love, family and many more. They are loaded upon the conveyer belt of time and moved at an immutable pace. These little conveyor belts fed into a bigger belt, like streams feeding into a powerful river. Every moment, every second, these streams of fate flow and delivers to me its boxed product. But that is just part of this supply chain...

As these parcels of life reached me, I consume them, kept them, destroyed them. But regardless of what I do, they have made me the way I am. The endless stream of packages life can deliver never stops, from delivery to consumption, the cycle continues... It never ends... I call it "Life's Symphony" in multiple motility - with no finale. It just keeps playing, as long as I live.

Lost In Translation

At times we deviate from our norms in life, at times we became people we thought we wouldn't be or never would be... At moments like these, we usually forgot who we are, searching to escape the realism that binds us and our conscience... Lost in the translation of thoughts and emotions...

Emancipated from the thorny grips of love... Enraptured by the rhetorical figure of incongruousness along an inebriated staid. I was mangled by the very temptation of thoughts itself... Along the masquarades of masks I see, are people crying out for effectual actions. Yet succoring them in their hour of need is the derogatory connotations of being in a stupor. Hanging in the balance of righteousness and the thought of reprisal, I can't help but wax along the frequency of disconcertion.

I'm messed up I know, but whenever I am possessed by such deconstructionist thoughts, I just can't seem to find a word or reason for everything anymore...

Numbers...

In my life, I’ve never been one that really gambles or took any sides in a game of chance, except of course, the yearly affair of New Year gambling… But today, I found myself standing in front of the Singapore Pools booth, buying Toto… It’s the second time I actually bought 7 numbers. 7 numbers that actually meant something to me…

I shaded the boxes and all only to find out at the counter I shaded erroneously… Embarrassed, I asked the staff how it should be done… I could still remember the last time I bought the numbers because of her… The date we got together, the approximate time we first kissed… Though the result never strike a single digit… But somehow I still seek solace in the fact that it’s only a try in the numbers intertwined in our relationship.

But today, I really don’t know why am I here… Queuing with all these people, right in front of the super mart, and right at the very same booth I 1st queued for our numbers… Just that this time the numbers are not the same… 09 11 20 07 The very date our relationship ended. 22:42, the time of the message she sent that carries the connotation of breaking up... and 30 the number of days in the month of November…

Striking the lottery has always been the last thing on my mind, but somehow I still bought it… These numbers that meant so much to me are now digitized into a piece of pink slip… How I wish I could also digitized my pain away… Perhaps, the numbers I bought are not for any monetary gains, but a form of cerebral respite. Perhaps, what I’m looking for is not the exact numbers to be on the television screen, but an answer to all that’s left me broken…