Seeds of Thought

Where do I stand in this world?

A friend once commented that I'm easily distracted. My response was that the world had much to be distracted by. It was a retort made without thinking, yet sometimes it is the heart that answers best.

So many times we try to define where we are. Define who we are. At our age, at our currnet minds, it is a dangerous, fragile phrase. Everyone knows that these 5 years will be the ones that shape us the most. It is when we as people are most malleable, most unsure, most open to learning and teaching, and daring to tread new waters.

The world has much to be distracted by. So many influences, so many things. Perhaps it is the influence of too much literature, or stories, or just TOK, but I see meaning in almost everything. Patterns upon patterns, symbols within symbols, each repeating, folding, dancing together in the light.

So many influences, and the greatest tragedy is how we must shut ourselves to most of them. I think our greatest depression, my greatest depression at least, is the inability to reach. There is so much out there, so much beauty and power and strength, and we humans in our limited, flawed capacity cannot hope to reach it. It is the tragedy that causes us to turn into ourselves. To blame ourselves for not being as high as the stars, as perfect as the angels, as wonderous as the concepts that our minds and souls can dream and create, yet never reach.

It is the closing of the mind that pains me. That we must all do so, for sanity, for efficiency, for function. To open our minds to the universe and all its glory would leave us wallowing in our insignificance, our own weakness and fragility. We are forced, by neccessity, to pick only what is relevant.

And thus we begin to judge.

Because we are forced to judge, to contemplate the idea of importance, of priority, things are no longer pure. Life is fluid, changing, wonderfully changing, the same way a waterfall is mesmerising, the same way the falling stars and singing wind are beautiful. Moving, eternally moving and changing, always different yet somehow, remaining the same.

Siddhartha? Yea. Go ahead and feel put off by it.

All my pain, my suffering comes from the imposing of structure. We are needed to read these books, to score these marks, to reach these goals. And thus it is no longer growth, no longer flow, but a pressure, a suction - a dragging of chains bound around our souls as they struggle in other directions.

It is faster, safer, and more productive. And because of this humankind feels the eternal angst of not knowing their purpose, not knowing what they need.

I thought I broke out of the system. Of the competitive rubrics and judgments and endless targets. Now I see that all I did was impose a different set of rubrics, one based around originality, around creativity, a measurement of how immeasurable something was.

Heh.

Its so funny, yet so depressing at same time.

No more goals. No more schedules. Let me try that. Let me try to feel life. Feel its wave and motion, its tides and currents, its song, its surf, and all the fish in its depth.

Somepart I suppose, would need to remain an anchor. But no more judgement. No more competition. Just growth, growth for the sake of growth, for the delight of it. For the joy of the sky, the morning sun, the new seeds, the blooming flowers that fade away yet are renewed each dawn, as their petals are mourned and remembered each dusk.

Everyone says to live life for its own sake. That's incorrect. Life for its own sake never changes, never moves. Why do we keep insisting in living our lives and pace?

Let Life live you instead.

On Slack and Portfolios

In the midsts of math port, TOK, and general rushing of EE World Lit and all that is sacred and holy (in the context of IB, of course), I offer a nice little piece of blasphemy;

"Dude. Relax."

Odd? I think all of us have had this thought. Perhaps it was the influence of this article

http://www.straitstimes.com/ST%2BForum/Online%2BStory/STIStory_352662.html

but well, me is beginning to think some of us have lost track of life.

Oh scratch that. Me is beginning it sense that most of us think that we have lost track of life. Its following the herd sort of thing, only that I try to pay attention to where we're going.

I spent the holidays doing the following: Helping my parents move (new house!). Going out for lunch with an old friend, who was visiting Singapore after migrating overseas. Spending a few hours in the library, reading up on the SG Education system (It was for TOK, but I enjoyed it. Yes, I'm weird that way.) All these were good, normal and above all human things that I should have been enjoying and feeling proud of.

Yet why is it all I felt was guilt for spending the 1-2 hours eating lunch with my friends when I (think I) should have been doing my IAs instead?

Why is it the first question any of my friends ask is "Have you done Math Port yet?"

It shows a very strange mix of priorities that many of us, I myself included, have been guilty of. We're putting work before family, efficiency over emotion, destination over the journey.

But is there anything wrong to it?

We wish to succeed after all. 45 points is a noble aim, and as a student, it is our responsibility to finish our work to the best of our ability.

I am aware that to an extent, I am justifying my own slouchiness but to heck with that. I'd rather say I had a real Holiday and not to feel guilty about it, than spend the rest of Term 2 moaning over the three days spent sleeping and talking to mates on MSN.

Siddhartha...Siddartha. Thank Hesse for your comforting advice on enjoying life. Now I can be a wastard and hippie in peace.

Perhaps someday, I may succeed in changing my mindset to view work as a joyous and stimulating activity. Till then...I'll stick with my sugar and caffine.

Now, off to do TOK.

Annoyingly Apathetic Arguments Again

Been meaning to post reflections, or thoughts, or some snappy/witty article about shoes, life and babies.

But somehow, apathy has taken over me. Apathy at well, everything.

Perhaps its because of Physics and English tests, bad marks = disencouragement = quitter?

I don't like it, but its somehow so nice to just live in your head.

ImaUniversityProfessor

Iliveinmaheads

At least while in my head I have the option of waking up.

Reading

Little seed, amongst the pages
Under the glow of the bed-lamp's light;
Growing, shaping, sending shoots
To the skies and lands
of worlds beyond
And into our minds, enclosing roots
Drinking off the well-spring of imagination
That flows within our souls.
Basked in sunlight, shaded in troubles
of our lives, the highs and lows
nourish the soil between the covers-
soil turned by hands, anticiptation
A pot overflowing;
Still shaping, still growing
Vines and leaves, twist and turn
until a petal, tender inspiration
pink with fragility, what all we learn
Bloom.

The fruit of ideas, pollinated with thought
from a thousand other seeds,
from a thousand other pages,
Grow, blossom-

pop

A gentle breeze scatters
the pages full of lore;
new seeds, like dandelions
sift through my dreams
searching for a blank page,
fresh soil
to take root once more.

-----------------------------------------------

Been a while since I wrote one eh?

Fan-tasy

A few posts back, and a couple of months ago, a friend asked me a question that eventually led to a question of my own. In many ways, it was an immense loss of faith for myself;

The question was: What's the point of fantasy?

Let it be known now that I then and still and hopefully shall always be a Fantasy Fan. High magic, dragons, wizards. Then there's Sci-fi, which purists say is a Genre in its own right, but which I lump together into this great big category I name "stuff which does not exist but should".

I mean, come on; who wouldn't want to ride on the back of a giant mechanical alien dragon-wizard...thing?

Personal fantasies aside, at that point of time, I couldn't answer the question. Which led to a immense disillusionment in reading all of these so-called "mind-suckers". The idea is that they take up valuable memory space, by shoving random trivia about non-existant realities into your brain.

For a while, I actually agreed with that statement. Some part of me still agrees with it, to a point.

But then I kinda realised it. The point of all these works. Today. An hour ago. Upon which I sat down and wrote a CW essay in 45minutes, cause ephanies are awesome like that.

The very thing I was fearing about fantasy. Its drug-like, hypontic effect to weave its way into your mind, and feed upon your brain power. This parasitic ability, some would say, was the very thing that made it valuable.

Think, why is it that fantasy is so effective a drug? Why do the tales of Mordor and Gandalf stick in our heads far better than the chemical reaction between NaOH and CH3COOH?

Because Fantasy, unlike chemistry, is an integral part of the human society. No matter what your chem teacher says about the chemistry between your mom and dad, Fantasy is the reason society exists.

The thing that differentiates humans from animals - the capacity to dream.

Since the dawn of time knowledge has been passed down through stories. And the oldest stories, the ones that stuck around the longest, what were they? Were they texts on the number of twigs needed to achieve maximum heat in a dinosaur's cave?

No, they were the legends, the Epics. The lost tales of Heroes, Dragons, Monsters and Gods.

Alot of people try to take Fantasy seriously. That is...the biggest mistake anyone can make, that I've made. Fantasy is not serious. Fantasy is about life, and if life got serious we'll all have died, cause we'll lose. Fantasy takes the seriousness of life, the pain, the trials, and combines it side by side with the good things, the light-hearted bits; the joy, laughter and friendship, showing them side by side, in opposition or in harmony.

Fantasy isn't Reality, because it doesn't need to be. People can see reality for themselves. Heck, they need drugs not to see it properly. So we crave fantasy, the idea of escape, the other worlds, the freshness of the idea. New things, new concepts, other worlds and dimensions - the ultimate question, always on our tongues, encompassing Hope, Fear, Worry and Faith;

"But WHAT IF-"

Fantasy permeates our minds, because Fantasy reflects the ability to dream. And those without the ability to dream live in the full light of reality, and are blinded by it. And because it reflects the dream, it can alter it, shape it, mold it towards the future.

See where I'm going with this?

The point of Fantasy, the aim and its power - is that it can change people. It can teach them things that hard facts and cold logic can never hope to reach. Those speak to the mind, but the imagination speaks directly to the soul. The Mind is merely a router, and a lousy one at that.

So a writer, us writers if I dare call myself one, hold great power in our hands. With fantasy, one can shape the dreams of the future.

And what is our future, if not made of dreams?

As they say, with great power, comes great responsibility. I can only hope the writers of our generation will recognise this truth.

Cosmic Dice

The sleek form of the alien spaceship shimmered as it passed through the atmosphere. The creatures were deceptive, surprisingly so. Cloaking devices, low-energy orbital engines…thank goodness the Satellite warning systems had managed to pick them up. Their point of entry though, meant that Agent Jones found himself in a hovercraft somewhere near the top of the Himalayas, wrapped in blankets against the cold.

Two could play the stealth game, and Earth’s tech was hardly obsolete compared to the Sh’ka. By the time the aliens noticed the cloaked hovercraft it was too late. Agent Jones pressed the communications button, sending a signal straight to the Captain of the silver vessel.

The insectoid face of a Sh’ka Ship Captain appeared on the view screen, green bulbulous eyes glowing slightly with barely suppressed emotion. The prominent symbols carved onto its carpace marked it as one Captain Kh'r, of the Sh'ka vessel Swzlt.

“This is Earth Territory, Captain. You know the Rules. Land your ship and we can talk this over peacefully.”

The Captain made a odd set of chitterling noises, which the onboard computer translated. “Curse you Earthlings! Very well, we will land on the flat planes and begin the exchange”

Moments later Agent Jones found himself inside a small makeshift tent with Captain Kh’r, both parties wearing their respective Bio-Adapter Suits. Normally, Agents didn’t need to wear a BAS for such exchanges. Then again, normally aliens did not try to land on the Himalayas.

The Agent grinned, holding out the Transfer Box. A series of chitters emitted from the translator embedded on his suit’s chest. “The Sh’ka Government trying to cheat again, Captain?”

“No, no,” answered Captain Kh'r, eyes glowing faintly through the visor, “it’s not our fault if Earth’s too busy expanding to catch one little craft. Anyway, we landed, didn’t we?”

The Sh'ka punched in the keycode into its own Transfer Box. There was a minor display of tiny lights and beeping, indicating that the transfer had started.

“1600 credits, correct?”

“3200 actually. We have the whole System now, so the number goes up a bit”

“You race never stops expanding, does it?” grumbled the Captain as he punched in more buttons.

“Nope,” answered Jones, “In fact, we should be somewhere near the Prime sector by n-”

ALERT! ALERT!

His suit’s visor flashed as a series of bright red letters marched across the screen. A Universal Message?! The Captain was probably receiving it as well. What could possible be so important that it would warrant a Universal Message directly to-

“Ah…rats” exclaimed the Agent. Captain Kh’r was grinning, or at least what the Sh’ka did for grinning. Its eyes were flashing in an odd pattern of bright and dim lights that Jones recognized as the Sh’ka equivalent of laughter.

“You saw that too, eh?””

“Yes.” The Sh’ka was already deactivating the Box;

“So I guess this means this transaction is void?”

“Apparently. We would need to check the Rules to be certain.”

The Captain left. Soldiers escorted Agent Jones back to the relative comfort of the hovercraft, where he watched the Swzlt slowly rise into the air, the flare from its engines reflecting off the snow, illuminating the entire mountain top.

Moments later, they were gone.

“Damn,” cursed Agent Jones, watching the rapidly fading star in the sky. A tiny point of light zipping through space, dancing from planet to planet – just another one of the many representatives of a hundred different races, from a thousand different planets. He glanced at the omnious message displayed upon his visor and sighed. The Government would not be pleased when Jones got back to base;

“…I repeat, the Earth Flagship The Wheel has landed in the Dark Warp. The ship and all its men will now be teleported straight to the Holding Dimension. Do not pass Sirius. Do not collect 20000 Credits…”

They are Bonuses

Is there a point? Of course there is, some would say. 3 points. 3 valuable points that everyone looks for and desires.

In trying to keep with the rubrics I lost the interest. In trying to match with what was wanted I lost what I was looking for.

Ultimately, its a manner of character. And the ones that benefit the most are those whom live beyond the system, upon wings of their own devising.

I have lost myself, lost my mind, lost the time and delight in doing things I loved. I looked into fields - work hard, play hard, never lose the spark. I think at some point in life, we all lost our sparks, save for those precious few that inspire me so.

Some people have argued that it doesn't matter why you do it, only that you do it. Such a filthy lie that is. Why do I call it a lie?

That alone, answers the question.

Why do we do all this? Search relentlessly...I know what was missing now. I do not love what I write, I cannot present to the world something I do not love as my own, for love is possessive, and it hurts to tell a filthy lie. But still I endure this pain and plough on, though ever cell in my body screams against the bastard child of my own imagining, against the foul words created in a moment of desperate copulation between joyous imagination and harsh requirements.

All this for the sake of 3 points.