randong 4: and the kingdom of the crystal skull
i've once again fallen into the trap of writing drafts upon drafts of
material that will never see the light of day because my writing style
heavily rests on stream of consciousness, and as soon as i lose interest in writing about something it becomes a chore instead of something i can feel passionate about and pour myself into - and that's a waste of time. and if there's one thing that i don't like seeing on my to-do list, it's wasting my time. so to break the rut, i'm giving myself another hour.
newtonian cradle
who i am is in a constant state of flux. it's growing and regressing in some places. i'm learning new things, and i'm forgetting things that was once important to me. though there will be a handful of elements that endure as fundamental traits such as my fiery passion, a competitive streak, and intense inquisitiveness; but by and large, the way i carry myself, the way i engage with others, the manner in which i think, the beliefs and values i hold - all morph over time that my characterization can be indistinguishable from one period over another, sometimes conflicting and inconsistent, but somehow remains to be genuinely me. that's the thing with us real humans: we're not as carefully curated like crystallized characters in works of fiction. we're both messy and kept together, we're both virtuous and sinister, we're both whole and incomplete. and we're constantly adding to the chapters of the story of our lives.
with my feet on the air and my head on the ground
we're shortchanging ourselves when we're held hostage by our past. i understand that being grounded in experiences is necessary. they're good stepping stones to greener pastures. but when the blotchy ink of a spotty past keeps bleeding into your current page, then you prevent yourself from starting with a clean slate. i know it's not easy. i live it out the struggle every single day. but i find that when you leaf through life enough, it becomes easier to start painting your own future free from distortions. now i can't conclusively say that i can start life anew absolutely unburdened with the pressures from demons of yesterday. they're there, they make it difficult, they make me want to put the barrel of a gun in my mouth. but there's always tomorrow. and tomorrow is liberating.
a fuckton years of solitude
i keep wondering whether this pandemic has kept my life on pause. i can feel that somehow my life's narrative is progressing. but since a good majority of society isn't in motion, somehow i'm getting the impression that we can't move forward. my life for the past year has been such a blur that i can never seem to get a grip on any form of certainty. it's more mutable than i like it to be. so i've grown desperate to glom on to anything that can feel like some sort of structure with a solid foundation. i can see myself falling to the same traps that i've characteristically fell into. inasmuch as i try to learn to not repeat the same stupid things, there are firmly fundamental character traits that put me in the same situation over and over again. i'm convinced some things can never change, and when rigidity can't be beaten by sheer force of will, we just have walk around them cause some mountains can't be moved.
newtonian cradle
who i am is in a constant state of flux. it's growing and regressing in some places. i'm learning new things, and i'm forgetting things that was once important to me. though there will be a handful of elements that endure as fundamental traits such as my fiery passion, a competitive streak, and intense inquisitiveness; but by and large, the way i carry myself, the way i engage with others, the manner in which i think, the beliefs and values i hold - all morph over time that my characterization can be indistinguishable from one period over another, sometimes conflicting and inconsistent, but somehow remains to be genuinely me. that's the thing with us real humans: we're not as carefully curated like crystallized characters in works of fiction. we're both messy and kept together, we're both virtuous and sinister, we're both whole and incomplete. and we're constantly adding to the chapters of the story of our lives.
with my feet on the air and my head on the ground
we're shortchanging ourselves when we're held hostage by our past. i understand that being grounded in experiences is necessary. they're good stepping stones to greener pastures. but when the blotchy ink of a spotty past keeps bleeding into your current page, then you prevent yourself from starting with a clean slate. i know it's not easy. i live it out the struggle every single day. but i find that when you leaf through life enough, it becomes easier to start painting your own future free from distortions. now i can't conclusively say that i can start life anew absolutely unburdened with the pressures from demons of yesterday. they're there, they make it difficult, they make me want to put the barrel of a gun in my mouth. but there's always tomorrow. and tomorrow is liberating.
a fuckton years of solitude
i keep wondering whether this pandemic has kept my life on pause. i can feel that somehow my life's narrative is progressing. but since a good majority of society isn't in motion, somehow i'm getting the impression that we can't move forward. my life for the past year has been such a blur that i can never seem to get a grip on any form of certainty. it's more mutable than i like it to be. so i've grown desperate to glom on to anything that can feel like some sort of structure with a solid foundation. i can see myself falling to the same traps that i've characteristically fell into. inasmuch as i try to learn to not repeat the same stupid things, there are firmly fundamental character traits that put me in the same situation over and over again. i'm convinced some things can never change, and when rigidity can't be beaten by sheer force of will, we just have walk around them cause some mountains can't be moved.
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