My resolution to write everyday has not stopped me from being lazy and not doing what I said I would, but at least it's making me try harder in trying to stick to it. So here I am, after a hiatus of, well, I lost count of how many days, back again.
Today I'm going to talk about turning 35.
In some ways, 35 is just another number. Being 35 is no different from being 25 or 15 or whatever. It wasn't momentous in any way. I didn't feel as if I've crossed a certain threshold for anything; I didn't feel like I've "arrived" somewhat somewhere. It wasn't more special than having turned 34. In that respect, it was just another day in all of my days, just another number in the series of numbers that makes up live - number of failed relationships, number of jobs gone through, amount of money earned, amount of money lost etc.
In other ways though, this was a very special birthday to me, because for once I finally feel as if I am going somewhere, a destination, a final goal that I've set out for myself, and amazing of amazing, I actually know where I'm going.
Life didn't feel as random now; life wasn't just the potential or possibility of anything and everything possibly happening to me. Whilst life was exciting and spontaneous and unpredictable that way, it also meant that life could go spinning off axis and out of control with any one thing that came spinning into my orbit - any thing, any person, any situation, anything could spark off something off of any proportion. I looked to see what life would bring me each day, and pursued any random occurrence to its random arbitrary haphazard end. Which means I basically allowed my life to be determined by capricious chance; I am a mere plaything of statistical occurrences.
I am not exactly sure how I got to this point, where, at 35, I am starting to feel hopeful about myself. Not "happy", not "satisfied", not "contented", just hopeful. It feels as if there's something to look forward to, there's potential in my life, in myself waiting to be realised, and I can feel it coming; despite everything, it's coming.
It's not as if everything's great and smooth-sailing. In fact, life seems more troublesome, more frustrating, more scary, more challenging than I'm ever expected it to be. When I think about tomorrow, I sometimes quail at the prospect of all the crap that's going to come my way. But when I look back and see how I've grown this year, how far I've come, how I've learnt to deal with situations I couldn't before, how I have cultivated and developed that confidence, that assurance, that stability I didn't have before, I feel sure that I will grow to fill those seemingly impossible shoes, the shoes I'm meant to fill, the shoes of the great, wise, compassionate, capable, person I'm meant to be. And I know this for a fact.
And the amazing thing is, I was so afraid that I was losing myself in this process, and I was wrong. I thought that changing means having to give up everything that I thought I am, the essence of my persona and personality, but it is the reverse actually. Because I am starting to enjoy myself again; because the things that used to "spoil my fun", that frustrated me and made me angry disappeared as my outlook broadened and expanded. I was now free to enjoy myself even more. Life actually became pleasant.
There was this thing that I found so difficult to give up; it was so dear to me, and I held on to it irrationally and illogically and brought myself a lot of pain and hurt and confusion. But the day I decided to give it up, to not allow myself to be held back by this thing that was so big to me, something interesting happened. Letting go suddenly wasn't so painful anymore, and my closed hurt mind suddenly became able to see other things, good things, that were willing and able to more than fill up that gaping hole in my heart. And I felt fullness instead of the emptiness I expected, serenity instead of the confusion and pain I thought I would have to go through, patience and understanding instead of being angry and bitter with how the situation turned out.
Even though I'm not much of a celebrator of birthdays, I still go through the solemn ritual of marking the day as an end to the past year, and the beginning of a new year. And every year I would tell myself I can't wait to see what the next year brings. This year, while the words remain the same, the essence of that statement is changed. This year, there is more than mere anticipation and curiosity to see what the year 35 brings for me; there is now an excitement, and expectation of good things, great things, and an impatience to see what this year will bring forth.
So happy 35th birthday to me, and here's to what the year will bring for me.
Cheers!
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Mr Potato Head
I've been masquerading as Mr Potato head in my MSN. You know that potato being with detachable eyes, ears, moustache, and limbs which you can dissemble leaving only the literal potato torso? Oh I forgot, Mr Potato Head has his very own wardrobe, not as extensive as Barbie and Ken's, but still decently consisting of a hat and shoes.
Mr Potato Head has a very respectable existence, appearing in Toy Story 1 and 2 and besides, also having his very own, albeit short-lived, Mr Potato Head Show. He even has offspring in the Potato Head Kids. Quite notable success, but at the end of the day, when everything that is an appendage is removed, what is left is just really, a potato.
Which brings me to the question I've been asking myself, if I were a potato, what kind of a potato would I be? Unfortunately I'm not familiar with the different varieties of potatoes; I only know fried potatoes, baked potatoes, and mashed potato, but that doesn't give me an excuse for not answering my own question: what potato am I if all my potato parts are removed? Or to put the question in simpler terms, what will I be like if I didn't have the baggage, mindset blocks, attitude problems, defensive behaviour, suspicious cynicism that I've collected, like potato parts, throughout my life? I started as a cute 3.5 pound clean slate of a baby after all. There's no sure evidence but there were some reports that I was cute, curious and good-tempered as a baby. So, what happened along the way? I'm so used to the person I know myself as now, I won't be able to even imagine what the non screwed-up version of me will be like. Will I be happier, smarter, prettier, more well-adjusted, skinnier? Can I still find out?
Theoretically, I can still find out what the "real" me is like. And how? By removing all the bad behaviour I picked up along the way, and I'll be as good as new. Theoretically. Practically, I'm not sure how that's going to happen. When bad habits have been with you a long while, they somehow become part of one's personality. I mayn't have started out suspicious and un-trusting, but if I encourage that sort of behaviour long enough, I will end up like that. Like what I have become recently. Oh crap. How? I don't want to die a bitter old hag.
I don't know how yet. Because just as I tell myself to stop behaving a certain way, I start getting tested on my resolutions to revamp myself. *Hey cut me some slack here, You Up There!* Which I guess makes it all so much more interesting (Hmmph!) for me learning that lesson, and I guess, makes the lesson more deeply learnt. But still, that doesn't mean I haven't been complaining under my breath. Unfortunately, knowledge doesn't necessarily make for real self-awareness, and self awareness doesn't make for real action.
I don't even know how to end this post. I could end with some trite cliche but that is too simplistic a representation of life's vicissitudes; or is it because I'm not determined enough to effect real change? Is a desire for change enough of an impetus to create that change? I hardly think so, for I've seen many others as well as myself, keep doing the same thing we tell ourselves not to do, only to do it again the very next moment. Human beings can be so noble and wonderful and amazing sometimes; at other times, they can be so despicable and low-down and well, just useless.I'm talking myself into a bind here, but hey I'm being true-to-goodness honest about well, very real human dilemmas.
I shall stop talking behind I get stuck in a mental bog.
I just realised there're a lot of "I don't know" in this post!
Mr Potato Head has a very respectable existence, appearing in Toy Story 1 and 2 and besides, also having his very own, albeit short-lived, Mr Potato Head Show. He even has offspring in the Potato Head Kids. Quite notable success, but at the end of the day, when everything that is an appendage is removed, what is left is just really, a potato.
Which brings me to the question I've been asking myself, if I were a potato, what kind of a potato would I be? Unfortunately I'm not familiar with the different varieties of potatoes; I only know fried potatoes, baked potatoes, and mashed potato, but that doesn't give me an excuse for not answering my own question: what potato am I if all my potato parts are removed? Or to put the question in simpler terms, what will I be like if I didn't have the baggage, mindset blocks, attitude problems, defensive behaviour, suspicious cynicism that I've collected, like potato parts, throughout my life? I started as a cute 3.5 pound clean slate of a baby after all. There's no sure evidence but there were some reports that I was cute, curious and good-tempered as a baby. So, what happened along the way? I'm so used to the person I know myself as now, I won't be able to even imagine what the non screwed-up version of me will be like. Will I be happier, smarter, prettier, more well-adjusted, skinnier? Can I still find out?
Theoretically, I can still find out what the "real" me is like. And how? By removing all the bad behaviour I picked up along the way, and I'll be as good as new. Theoretically. Practically, I'm not sure how that's going to happen. When bad habits have been with you a long while, they somehow become part of one's personality. I mayn't have started out suspicious and un-trusting, but if I encourage that sort of behaviour long enough, I will end up like that. Like what I have become recently. Oh crap. How? I don't want to die a bitter old hag.
I don't know how yet. Because just as I tell myself to stop behaving a certain way, I start getting tested on my resolutions to revamp myself. *Hey cut me some slack here, You Up There!* Which I guess makes it all so much more interesting (Hmmph!) for me learning that lesson, and I guess, makes the lesson more deeply learnt. But still, that doesn't mean I haven't been complaining under my breath. Unfortunately, knowledge doesn't necessarily make for real self-awareness, and self awareness doesn't make for real action.
I don't even know how to end this post. I could end with some trite cliche but that is too simplistic a representation of life's vicissitudes; or is it because I'm not determined enough to effect real change? Is a desire for change enough of an impetus to create that change? I hardly think so, for I've seen many others as well as myself, keep doing the same thing we tell ourselves not to do, only to do it again the very next moment. Human beings can be so noble and wonderful and amazing sometimes; at other times, they can be so despicable and low-down and well, just useless.I'm talking myself into a bind here, but hey I'm being true-to-goodness honest about well, very real human dilemmas.
I shall stop talking behind I get stuck in a mental bog.
I just realised there're a lot of "I don't know" in this post!
Monday, March 19, 2012
Damn new resolution
Damn damn damn
I've just started new targets for myself, and I'm regretting it already.
For today onward, I have to blog EVERY DAY. No matter how little or how much, I just have to write something, anything, never mind if I have nothing but crap worth saying. I firmly believe that some form of coercion and hand-twisting is required in order to push myself to the next level. Left to myself, I'll probably turn from laze myself into oblivion, turning from coach potato to potato to just couch. No one I know has chosen to be unnecessarily hardworking and of course I'm no exception to the rule. (Well maybe just one person I know, but that person's probably not really human.)
The point is to cultivate a habit, never mind how stiflingly boring and repetitive I may be about my favourite topics. It's a good thing nobody reads this blog anyway, except myself. And God knows how bored I am by my own writing already. Well, the cold comfort is that, at least I'm writing something, better than wasting my time playing Angry Birds I should think.
Remind me again why I'm putting myself through this strict regime. In order to make a painful non-adherence to rules, I'll I'll erh I'll buy a donate $50 to Amazon every time I don't write. What a great excuse for shopping eh. I'm half thinking to give myself the weekends off, but if I do that I'll have to let myself off for public holidays and special occasions like birthdays and lunar eclipses and Marilyn Monroe's birthday too. So I guess I better not start myself off on the wrong foot.
Anyway, as it's my very 1st day of the new resolution, I'm thereby declaring I'm allowed to cheat by not even using my brain writing, and for stopping halfway to shoot angry birds at wooden structures. From tomorrow onwards, I need to spend at least half an hour in my writing attempt, and not allowed to switch to Angry Birds halfway!
Once again, damn damn DAMN!
I've just started new targets for myself, and I'm regretting it already.
For today onward, I have to blog EVERY DAY. No matter how little or how much, I just have to write something, anything, never mind if I have nothing but crap worth saying. I firmly believe that some form of coercion and hand-twisting is required in order to push myself to the next level. Left to myself, I'll probably turn from laze myself into oblivion, turning from coach potato to potato to just couch. No one I know has chosen to be unnecessarily hardworking and of course I'm no exception to the rule. (Well maybe just one person I know, but that person's probably not really human.)
The point is to cultivate a habit, never mind how stiflingly boring and repetitive I may be about my favourite topics. It's a good thing nobody reads this blog anyway, except myself. And God knows how bored I am by my own writing already. Well, the cold comfort is that, at least I'm writing something, better than wasting my time playing Angry Birds I should think.
Remind me again why I'm putting myself through this strict regime. In order to make a painful non-adherence to rules, I'll I'll erh I'll buy a donate $50 to Amazon every time I don't write. What a great excuse for shopping eh. I'm half thinking to give myself the weekends off, but if I do that I'll have to let myself off for public holidays and special occasions like birthdays and lunar eclipses and Marilyn Monroe's birthday too. So I guess I better not start myself off on the wrong foot.
Anyway, as it's my very 1st day of the new resolution, I'm thereby declaring I'm allowed to cheat by not even using my brain writing, and for stopping halfway to shoot angry birds at wooden structures. From tomorrow onwards, I need to spend at least half an hour in my writing attempt, and not allowed to switch to Angry Birds halfway!
Once again, damn damn DAMN!
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