Engulfed by Allegory

Whereas I have a reputation for procrastinating on just about everything, the sprawl of grey matter in my head would like to clarify that it was never a willing accomplice to your discontentment. Because, as I have been coerced into illustrating, it certainly makes no delays (nor discretion, for that matter...) in having me informed about the malaise posed by even trace amounts of stress in my body.

As usual, my brain thinks it knows better. Or maybe it's addicted to keeping me on my toes. I don't have recurrent dreams, because that would easily classify them as nightmares (as if my brain would make it so convenient for me); they're definitely not the stuff of cotton-candy either. It's simply mentally-induced harrassment of the self. Harrassment because frustration in the surreal is uncalled for in the absence of apparent stress.

They lurk around in an assortment of shapes and sizes. Sometimes I am trying to escape the clutches of a shadowy, faceless monster in slow motion. Other times I could traverse the world yet have my destination evade me. One thing characterizes my experiences though: I go round and round in circles, and at the heart-rate of urgency too. At least I've no lack of creative juices, I guess.

A friend of mine posted a rather interesting tagline on his msn some while ago: I spend all my time in the lab because I don't have a girlfriend; I don't have a girlfriend because I spend all my time in the lab. What better way to surmise my agony: I have tension dreams because I am stressed out; I am stressed out because of my tension dreams.

To Eventually

So the saying goes that every tiny nudge forward brings you one step closer to Forever. And wherever it may be, that place is somewhere I profoundly long to reach. Because on that pinnacle is how I know if everything Now makes any sense.

Eventually shall we be able to weigh the merit of this pursuit we boldly declared 'ideal'. In the full knowledge of its benefits, as well as the sacrifices it entailed. Should it even be labeled ideal at all?

The enterprise was at first motivated by a self-perceived need to justify our actions in front of others. You don't know how many friends relate pure distaste for such situations. But somehow along the way this purpose fell off, and what continues to drive this quest is an innate desire to keep believing. That what feels so right could not turn out to be too wrong.

Along the way too, I smell the flowers and sunshine. The march is not all a difficult one :) As I progress farther and farther from the onset, I realize that with each crossroad I face, new decisions require brand new evaluations. And they no longer constitute an accurate guage of that which they set out to determine.

Perhaps the answer I am looking for lies not in the destiny I will finally obtain, but in whether it belongs with you; perhaps I am seeking to find no answer at all. Because if the dreaded outcome should so unfortunately emerge, that's when my tracks are prematurely halted to a reluctant end.

It is not so much a test of speed as it is of stamina. But with my hand secured in yours, what does it matter that I should have to devote a whole lifetime to this journey.

The Tough of Effort

Tough is not the willing of yourself to advance despite your most ardent objections.

Tough is the incomprehensible resistance of the mind against your most violent desire for the contrary.

It's one of those days when my commitments simply don't make sense anymore. My world revolves around meaninglessness. Just when I've almost forgotten the revolting taste of a twisted gut, I am stricken with a bitterness in my mouth that can't be washed away. I wish I could give them all up, cast myself in total abandon, and close my eyes. To curl up and hide. To cry. And be given the luxury of choosing never to wake up again. Tough is precisely because you don't want any of that at all.

Just one of those unpleasant side-effects of happiness, I guess. Without such lows the highs wouldn't be labeled thus.

Old Shoes

On the one hand was familiarity. She had spent very many years with them, good ones and bad, and there was comfort in knowing exactly what to expect.

On the other hand was potential. Her potential waiting to be unleashed. One more go at defining her self; who knows if she would ever be given another chance to grab hold of life.

But the old shoes came first, and to this immutable fact she was bound. They, too, were once the centre of attraction. Slick and lustrous to behold, velvet to the touch, and cushy to the sole. Adorned with the most exquisite lace and beadwork.

Fate decreed that she had to lay her eyes upon that unassuming display. They offered her only fixation and unceasing bewilderment. It was not so much their appearance as the connection that was compounded within her. It encroached upon her heart and locked her emotions. Her will was left defenseless against its beckoning.

She couldn't recall for what reason she decided to put them on. And then it triggered an insuperable urge to pursue. For a while, this splash of excitement seemed to confer infinite strength. Her brainish recklessness she mistook for courage.

All of a sudden she was afflicted with quivering anguish. Except the crash back to reality didn't split just her head. Her frustration, like the pressing wind, was flaking her spirit, and as she crumbled layer upon layer, her head tugged urgently for riposte.

She couldn't recall for what reason she decided on habit over vindication. She had chosen now. At least there was solace in the commonplace. Moreover, it wouldn't be considered sacrifice. Those darling novelties exuded in appeal, and would certainly gather no lack of admirers. But if only she hadn't tasted their goodness, then perhaps what you don't know you can't miss. Yet how could she forsake the past in its faded glory? After all, she was quondam too.

********Epilogue********

Dedicated to she who has impacted more lives than one.

It was for what once was that what now is. And as much as I am grateful, I concede I really shouldn't be. You know, moral justice is but a social concept. Recognize that you don't have to be; or at least, I hope you no longer are.

最美的平凡

Even my childhood is gladder.

Not long ago, I re-lived those days as a child when the swing seemed to give me wings. The world was a cheery, propitious place because if I could fly then I could achieve so much more. I was a kid who believed in myself :)

Those were truly happy times. And you'd suppose if those positive experiences left no unfinished business, then they are as good as anyone would have them. Except they could get better.

And, truth be told, even I didn't realize, until I got to swing along with you :) Remember the lady with the child in her arms was laughing at us because we appeared to be 5-year-olds all over again, albeit larger than life. We couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear, although that description is perhaps more accurate of me than you. And then those smiliar occurences of yesteryears were jolted from memory and refreshed; enhanced even.

It's mind-boggling how when you meet someone you get along with, you wonder where he's been all this while. And you couldn't believe how you survived so long without this kind of breathtaking bliss in your life. You don't only wish to share with him all that the future holds, you're convinced how much more enjoyable past endeavours would have been with him around.

My dearest, there's something about you that makes the ordinary resplendent.