missing a page that was

i'm feeling very nostalgic today. took a very long walk down memory lane, until my calves are tired and my emotions whimsical. a book written so wonderfully, the words jump out of the pages and fondle your senses; it was what started me on this reminiscence. i remember someone who wrote so beautifully, someone who said that he wanted to use words to accurately capture and portray what a picture could, someone who could use the evolved symbols of our language system to paint emotions, situations, descriptions, location; just like an artist with his brush. i miss that so much. i miss reading the beautiful words of a writer, so vividly expressed that it touches. i miss the old blogger group too. i don't quite miss the scrutinising eyes of random strangers or the judgemental views of people who doesn't know or care on the pages of my life, but i miss the interaction, the lively banter, the laughter and the camaraderie. i miss the introspection.

i logged into facebook with my blogger profile and peeked into what everybody was doing. there are little changes in everybody's life; change is the only constant in the universe. even though we do not interact anymore in the blogosphere, as that world is so passe, but it makes my day to see everybody happy and healthy. she has moved on to other careers, he did not get the little patter of small feet that he was so looking forward to :(, the old one is still learning, still keeping up with trends, they wished my cobwebbed page happy birthday, she has deleted her account, he is still talking cock, her two kids are so big now, he has unfriended me (for goodness knows what reason!!!) and some i can no longer remember their blog or their avatar. the only congruity it will seem is that none of them blog anymore. i guess it is a given, after 10 years, that everybody has moved on, to try newer things, to go on with their lives, to do something different. only i remain, solitary, in this infinite colossal impalpable world, with my own thoughts, as it should be, introspective. i am reminded of why i have continued writing, for whom i am writing, and my love for the written language. i am reminded that i am an introvert.

i scrolled through my blogs, re-reading old posts and publishing old drafts. with the passage of time, many posts that were once 'sensitive' lost the power to hurt and i am now comfortable with posting it for all to see. things that i have forgotten, stories and settings that have been dismissed from my mind, i read them again. the only witness to the flipping of the pages of my life and my journey.

the meaning is what you make of it

i hear it a lot: what is the meaning of life? many of us come to a crossroad in life where we ask ourselves, and others, the point of our existence. what is the reason we are put on this earth? i guess to ask that, to some degree one has to be a theist, to believe that there is a higher power that controls our very existence and that we did not just appear as a result of the right ingredients, the right condition, at the right time. or perhaps we are just very lost individuals, seeking for things to make sense in our very short time on earth, hoping that we are able to make a difference, no matter how small and hoping that the world will remember us in its infiniteness.

at 45, i have realised that there isn't any all-encompassing 'meaning' to life. what your life means is what you want it to mean, what you need it to mean; or in another word; how you want to live your life. if you are breathing and moving, you are probably already living your life and have part 1 of life101 down. i always hold the ideology that we make decisions base on what we are, who we are, so even given another life, without hindsight, we will make the same decisions in the same circumstances. so no point fretting. no point regretting. no more what ifs.

most, when pondering on this question, are looking for motivation to achieve greatness, or simply just something more than mediocrity and duldrum. they want to know if they are wasting their lives or whether they should be putting a little more effort. but by what yardstick can you measure one individual's life that is only uniquely theirs? for some, saving lives and finding the cure to cancer are things that they are destined to do, others touching the lives of others through their sincerity and love make a world of difference to those around them. to each his own. thus i do not believe that there is a general maxim by which to live your life. we discover what we want, what we are capable of, what we seek and we live it to the fullest, or not, depending on what brings meaning to you.

i do not believe that the motivation to fully live our lives come from analysing the meaning of life, or seeking for an external enlightenment. we are motivated by seeing, by listening, by empathising, by caring and loving, by living. with empathy, we choose to make a difference in the ways we can. and hence is the meaning of your life; to live it, to see, to hear, to empathise, to care and to love. consider yourself enlightened. go live your life.

this human is out of service

the doc said my emotions are affecting my kidneys ,which in turn affects the rest of my body, amongst some other tcm mumbo jumbo. sigh. what can i do? it's not like i have control over my feelings. i'm sad, and the rest of my body is feeling it too. can i shake the sadness out of my system like a little etch-a-sketch? can i erase and forget about it with an imaginary heart-board duster? do i continue to sulk and mope until my blue pity bag is full, then i chuck it into the nearest dumpster? i am aware that i have mood swings; days when it is a struggle to even maintain a smile, and days when i go about as normal. sometimes i walk around in a daze waiting for the frown to turn upside down. is it actually more physiological, rather than psychological? the body affects the mind? or the mind affects the body? maybe it is just hormonal imbalances. maybe it is just metabolism out of whack. nobody's life is perfect. nobody is exactly where they want to be, doing what they want to do. but life still goes on.

inside

how are you doing, some asked. she has left - i wanted to say. it was at the very tip of my mouth. but who would care? would they care that i am sad she has left. or would they care that she is no longer around. sadly, neither. no one in this world cares about either. and so i swallowed those words down my throat again.

one day, perchance, i told the man who asked after me many many moons ago. the one who extended a friendly touch when none bothered. i don't know why i did. maybe i thought he could understand now because he understood then how painful it was for me. i wanted to tell someone, needed to tell someone, to share the grief i had been carrying around like a lost puppy, with no direction, no destination. i told him that she has left.

who is she, he asked. my instinctive reaction was to drop the detestable phone, scamper to my bed and pull the covers over me, to hide from the shame and repulsion. that one last person in the world who had an inkling of what i went through then had totally erased the memories from his cranium. or maybe he never did know. maybe i never did open up, even though his kind text messages were enough to assuage the pain in my heart. i understood now that it was me he was enquiring after so long ago, not her. i wasn't angry with him, but i didn't want to desecrate the memories by having to explain it. and so i said never mind, it's not important. even though it was. it was a very important part of my story, of my pages. and i continue to hold it inside of me.