So this is two days early, but Happy Samhain, everybody. ^_^



(Halloween Flashers!!!)

... And now I had better stick to my vow and get back to studying.

Bwahahahahaha... click here.

This was taken from Sillygirl.com:

I Want to be Six Again

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult, in order to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old.

The tax base is lower. I want to be six again. I want to go to McDonald's and think it's the best place in the world to eat.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make waves with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them. I want to play kickball during recess and stay up on Christmas Eve waiting to hear Santa and Rudolph on the roof.

I long for the days when life was simple. When all you knew were your colors, the addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but it didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. I want to go to school and have snack time, recess, gym and field trips.

I want to be happy, because I don't know what should make me upset. I want to think the world is fair and everyone in it is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.

Sometime, while I was maturing, I learned too much. I learned of nuclear weapons, prejudice, starving and abused kids, lies, unhappy marriages, illness, pain and mortality.

I want to be six again. I want to think that everyone, including myself, will live forever, because I don't know the concept of death. I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by the little things again.

I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something used for escape from the things I should be doing. I want to live knowing the little things that I find exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned them. I want to be six again.

I remember not seeing the world as a whole, but rather being aware of only the things that directly concerned me. I want to be naive enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else. I want to walk down the beach and think only of the sand beneath my feet and the possibility of finding that blue piece of sea glass I'm looking for.

I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike, letting the grownups worry about time, the dentist and how to find the money to fix the old car.

I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up and what I'll be, who I'll be and not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out. I want that time back.

I want to use it now as an escape, so that when my computer crashes, or I have a mountain of paperwork, or two depressed friends, or a fight with my spouse, or bittersweet memories of times gone by, or second thoughts about so many things, I can travel back and build a snowman, without thinking about anything except whether the snow sticks together and what I can possibly use for the snowman's mouth.

I want to be six again. This just happens to be one of those weeks that I would really, really like to be 6.

I know that in this blog I have not always been happy. Or perhaps, to be precise, I have always wanted to wallow in that essence of a black mood because it helped me recover myself and go back to living elsewhere. What you see is not what you get. You know that.

But this time I cannot seem to fathom what I have done wrong. Nor can I understand why I get so upset over what some people would take as an ordinary part of life. So there was a misunderstanding between me and someone else. So she's the second person in a month who has entirely stopped talking to me without even giving a reason why. So what?

I cannot understand -- I cannot begin to understand -- why I can get so agitated over just one simple person ignoring me -- as though the world has turned from azure-blue to grey and suddenly started falling all about my ears. And why do I have to see myself standing by the wreckage -- and standing, and standing, and staring -- and not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say, I have hardly ever been so upset in my life and believe me that is saying something.

And that I feel as though the world has suddenly gone crazily out of my control -- I am over-sensitive, you say? Neurotic? Kicking too much of a fuss over nothing? -- But listen to this, wise guy: All my life I have based my actions, my feelings, my very existence on the fact that I am nice and kind to people and so they will always be my friends. Which is a flawed statement at best but this is what has formed my subconscious from an early age. I am terrified -- and I mean mortally terrified -- of any form of unkindness, of cruelty, of injustice. And somehow I feel -- and I realise that I have always felt -- that FORMING WORKABLE RELATIONSHIPS WITH PEOPLE IS ABOUT AS SAFE AS SWIMMING IN A SEA OF JELLYFISH. The minute I start feeling comfortable with a person -- just when I am happy and confident and my own person -- something always happens: minefields, booby traps, thumbtacks scattered underfoot. Do you blame me for hating people? Do you still blame me for hiding behind a computer screen and refusing action? Because the fact of life is this: people are always judging me, whether behind their smiles or their kindly words or whispering together in groups. Either that, or they love me and then leave me and I cannot tolerate loss any more than I can take change.

It is at times like this, really at times, that I start to see why people choose to shut themselves up in their own fantasies and dreamscapes, even going lunatic as a defense mechanism from the world. You may wonder why I am writing in such a style, full of analogy and metaphor and long, long sentences, separated carefully into paragraphs and punctuation marks. It is because right now my fingers are cold and I am shaking and somehow the two people I called will not take my calls and if I do not restrain myself through making my fingers and my mind dwell on each and every single word formed like this I am very very afraid that I WILL GO MAD I REALLY WILL GO MAD AND.

That one day I really will go mad.

You are Form 6, Elfin: The Wyld.

"And The Elfin saw the evil and misjudgement in the world and shot her arrow at the sky. Bolts of lightning struck the earth and gave the world balance and growth."

Some examples of the Elfin Form are Demeter (Greek) and Khepry (Egyptian). The Elfin is associated with the concept of growth and balance, the number 6, and the element of water. Her sign is the half moon.

As a member of Form 6, you are a very balanced individual. You can easily adapt to most situations and you may be a good social chameleon. You aren't afraid of changes in your life, but sometimes you evolve too rapidly, leaving others to think that you are leaving them behind. Elfin are the best friends to have because they are open minded.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
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Oh ho. Balanced? Adaptable? Social chameleon?? Granted, sometimes I can be a rather balanced sort (read: impassive, apathetic) but I really have to challenge all that stuff about "adaptable" and "change". I do not take well to change. At all. Nor do I change very often... though I must note that everyone has facets of themselves that they don't always show. (To prove my point, just go read some people's blogs. I have been surprised more than once.)

Some interesting stuff: I got a free astrology report online a few years back, which told me what sign of the zodiac each planet was in when I was born (had to enter in the exact minute I was born, my location and so forth). Then, as taught, I matched each sign of the planet to its corresponding element. E.g. Taurus is under the rulership of Earth, Gemini, Aquarius and Libra are under Air, Pisces is under Water, Aries under Fire, and so on.

Turns out that I have 3 parts Water, 3 parts Air, 3 parts Earth -- A pretty balanced individual wouldn't you say -- and then AH-HA! Here comes the hitch: FOUR PARTS FIRE. I thought that was plain bull at the time, as I was 'neither very active nor passionate', but I've come to realise it was true all long. Or maybe it's just a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Nevertheless, I'm rather impressed. You can get a report too at Astrology.net, if they still offer the service. It was quite some years ago.

My subconscious mind has been acting up again, and this time it has been telling me to do something fun and positive that starts with the letter C. Hmm.

Why it should begin with a C is totally beyond me. At first I thought it was because C is a round and lively-looking letter, and besides it is three-quarters of the letter O which is the round, Zen-ish positive number of all positive numbers, the Zero. But then why didn’t my mind fix on O instead? Why C? And besides, there are a limited amount of activities that start with C. Card-collecting? Car-crashing? Cat-cuddling?

...Cooking Crispy Cow?...

What I’ve ended up doing so far, however, is econs Case-studying on the Closed economy (which is nowhere near fun and positive).

Words are funny. You ever really noticed them? These days I’ve gone to feeling that they are useful tools of expression, but sadly inadequate. (Thank you, Harold Pinter.) Still, they are quite fun to examine closely. From time to time I have little blank-out moments when I start to look at a word, really start to look at it, and I feel as though I’ve never seen it before. Words, for me, are emotion-laden. Most of the time, anyway. The word “cry”, for example, somehow looks upset because of the shape of the “r” right next to the “y”, and the “c” like a sad eye on a contorted face. “Sharp” looks just like itself because of the jutting-out ends on the “h” and the “p”, and somehow the rounder, softer “S” and “a” do nothing to smoothen it. “Smooth” is nice and pleasant because of the comforting and somehow maternal “oo” (read it aloud), and the word as a whole is rounded and positive-looking. But there are words which totally do not look like themselves: Take “sky”, for example. Too sharp and short and somehow rigid, even with its dragged-out “ky” sound.

Also, I was reading the introduction to my copy of "Jane Eyre" recently when I started wondering, not for the first time, about creating my own fantasy land(s) and epic stories like the Bronte siblings did when they were younger. Charlotte and Branwell, Emily and Anne created the worlds of Angria and Gondal respectively, complete with characters and complex stories from their own imaginations. I would like that. It is a lot less painless to live inside than outside, and a great deal less risky. Maybe I could come up with a totally insane, Alice-In-Wonderland-ish story about characters who did nothing but stuff beginning with C.

Yes, being shut up at home is driving me nuts.

I could start examining words which have two or three different meanings at the same time (think “mad”) to see what they look like, but I should be getting back to work. Haven’t done anything all day.

[Edit] ...Just realised the name "Clive" starts with a C. Suddenly the letter feels a lot less positive.

The Moon: The moon signifies the subconscious, the dream world, imagination, fluctuation, intuition, occult power, hallucination, hidden forces, deception, and creativity. It denotes the subconscious, dreams, illusion, mystery, storms weathered, uncertainty, deception, a loved one's misfortune, or an emotional crisis.

Which Tarot Card Are You?
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Have to break my promise not to blog. We had literature class today... Ms Heng ended the session by letting us listen to a CD poetry reading of two poems by Pablo Neruda. This was one of them (the parts I love are in italics). Listening to it, I began to understand what they mean when they speak of poetry as a form of music...


POETRY
by Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

Decided it was time for a change, hence new template. Not quite cheerful but I suppose I could always change it again later. "Solitary pair", huh? Didn't really like the word "solitary", thinking of it as ominous... and the only way I'm going to be a "pair" is if I turn full-blown schizophrenic... but well.

Getting more familiar with html, but had problems loading pic on the left. Many thanks to Ailin for her help. Apart from working on my template, I'm now going to "do a Qinying" i.e. you won't see me blog again until my A levels are over.

[Edit] Replaced "solitary pair" with a song Blanche was singing in Tennessee William's play, "A Streetcar Named Desire"; also made layout more cheerful-looking.

"Say, it's only a paper moon
Sailing over a cardboard sea--
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

It's a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be--
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me..."

Take the World of Darkness Quiz
by David J Rust

Betty Friedan (author of “The Feminine Mystique”), Mi’er’s tagboard and Ailin’s blog have started me thinking on the issue of identity. I haven’t been able to write the passages composed in my head (on the bus) into coherence, so here are isolated fragments:

1. Suffice to say, if I were to ask “Who are you?” you would probably identify yourself as a role, a relation, or a function in society (so-and-so’s wife, a career woman, a carer and giver, etc). So what happens when these convenient handles break down, leaving you unlabelled? What happens to the “carer and giver” once she decides she needs, for her own sake, to be selfish? What is she then? For such “identifications” are very different from “identity”, and it is to break away from the former to search for the latter that we talk of “finding ourselves”…

2. In Pinter’s play “The Caretaker” we are never, as the audience, allowed to know the names of two out of the only three characters, effectively obscuring identity. Imagine the audience as they come out of the theatre. When they discuss, how would they discuss it? “Oh I was quite impressed by that guy… you know, the-one-with-the-statue-of-Buddha?” “Oh, you mean the-one-who-never-says-anything?” “Oh no, that was the-one-who-owns-the-Buddha, I’m referring to the-one-who-breaks-the-Buddha, you know, the fierce-one-with-the-electrolux?”

…what a mess (muddle?) life would be, without these identifications. Even if you’re nameless, you’re either labeled through your actions and possessions, or you’re branded by your lack of it. The central character in the movie “Hero” was known as “Nameless”. In this instance, the lack of identification becomes the identification.

3. I have always thought that identity was a lot more internal than external; involving a sense of self. But this sense of self is not a constant feeling; especially not when the self has been cultivated and shaped to exist and get along with society. Every day you redefine yourself when you react to something or someone you thought you would react to in some other way. Every day there are new pressures, new demands. The external becomes the internal, and hence, identity is a nebulous and shifting presence that cannot quite be pinned down.

4. I like myself for the way that I am, insecurities and all; even if I do think too much sometimes, and it depresses me. But: I am well aware that if I wasn’t able to think the way I do, I would no longer be me. It makes me wonder about Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am”. Is my sense of identity the way I can think about, feel about, and hence perceive the rest of life? Perhaps so; but is that everything identity is? Perhaps not. Perhaps identity simply is… and it is not anything we can define or identify. Perhaps identity is simply “I AM THAT I AM” (God), though that would be far too inconvenient as an external label.

Taken from Bizarro.com:

The Bunny of Exuberance

In all of us resides a little child with an overwhelming sense of wonder and exuberance for life. As we grow older, our hearts, minds and souls harden and become brittle. Some even mildew. ...The bunny, peeking its cute little furry head up from some unexpected place, is that child within you. The child that you used to be: frightened, loving, innocent, immature, hyperactive, unable to control your bladder, unafraid to throw a screaming temper tantrum in public. We must all stay in touch with the bunny inside us at all costs.

Activity to improve Bizarro awareness:

Print out dozens of copies of the bunny and hide him in unlikely places throughout the day. Whenever someone comes across the bunny and asks about it, encourage them to abandon self-consciousness and act childishly along with you. A good place to begin is by playing naked in a public fountain.

... Something very interesting: The "lengthy conversations in [my] imagination" (see below) mostly involve some me screaming or smashing or otherwise cutting and destroying things (including myself - I seem to favour large knives and guns). Now where did all my anger come from? Upon further reflection it seems that I am constantly angry... but at who? Or what?

Mi'er introduced an idea to me yesterday which I find extremely appealing: destruction for the sake of art. E.g. smashing a mirror or photo frame and sketching it... what I really like about this is you get to destroy something in order to create it in another form. I wonder if it works for the soul, like a kind of psychic burning or purging. (I wonder if you know what I'm talking about, but I think Sylvia Plath probably would understand.)

I would really like to destroy something right now, anything, just smash or hurl or rip and let fly... without having to apologise or pay for it afterwards.

Personal Growth Recommendations for Enneagram Type Fours

(Putting this down so as to remember it permanently)

Avoid putting off things until you are "in the right mood." Commit yourself to productive, meaningful work that will contribute to your good and that of others, no matter how small the contribution may be. Working consistently in the real world will create a context in which you can discover yourself and your talents. (Actually, you are happiest when you are working—that is, activating your potentials and realizing yourself. You will not "find yourself" in a vacuum or while waiting for inspiration to strike, so connect—and stay connected—with the real world.

Self-esteem and self-confidence will develop only from having positive experiences, whether or not you believe that you are ready to have them. Therefore, put yourself in the way of good. You may never feel that you are ready to take on a challenge of some sort, that you always need more time. (Fours typically never feel that they are sufficiently "together," but they must nevertheless have the courage to stop putting off their lives.) Even if you start small, commit yourself to doing something that will bring out the best in you.

Avoid lengthy conversations in your imagination (AACK!!! How did they find out?)particularly if they are negative, resentful, or even excessively romantic. These conversations are essentially unreal and at best only rehearsals for action—although, as you know, you almost never say or do what you imagine you will. Instead of spending time imagining your life and relationships, begin to live them.

Am going to do a drawing of Delirium. And I'm going to be my own model, with the help of a mirror. A model of Delirium. Does that mean anything to you?

"i wish that my fortune was told a long time ago by a set of poker cards, set into sequence by the joker and revealed to me in a sticky bun book."

Ailin, how I wish so too. Sometimes I feel that life is just a meaningless banal round of nothing where I am on a dream island, alone, playing Solitaire. And the people around me, or the relationships I once valued, are just wisps... of my imagination, of nothing...

and then finally I die and I can see that there is nothing left, that there was never anything in the first place.

Word of the Day for Wednesday October 1, 2003

atrabilious \at-ruh-BIL-yuhs\, adjective:
1. Melancholic; gloomy.
2. Irritable; ill-natured; peevish.

... Huh.

This has been a detestably awful day, signalling the start of a detestably awful week, which I suppose is a natural consequence of having a detestably awful life.

And happy Children's Day to my inner child, which I feel like hacking with a million sharp knives into a thousand tiny little pieces and weighing them down with a large rock before throwing the whole lot into the sea as fish food.