"That’s bullshit.  I think 'that wasn’t meant to be' is bullshit.  You are tested in life, you know?  Things aren’t just put in front of you for the taking.  You have to go through something to get what you want.  You can’t just drift through life and hope that love is just going to flow into you like plankton into a whale’s fucking mouth.  You have to prove yourself, you have to make things happen and choose."

- saw this on Tumblr. totally relevant.

let's not wait for an ending.

I’ve always wanted to begin a poem
with the line, “I’ve always wanted
to begin.” Now I have. Best to end here,

but then the universe is expanding
back into its black beginnings,
and space, aware of its own looming demise,

is singing of possibilities. I’m almost over, it sings,
it’s almost over and sooner or later we’d be left
with nothing but time. If we live that long.

Sometime before then all our dialects
will have moored on the gray sands of forgetting,
all our sad words will have started

to repeat themselves, as if sound didn’t dissipate
into stillness, as if not everything has been said before.
Here, let me tell you a joke: I am a man of faith.

Or a child, a tree, some living thing
that will someday be a dead thing.
What does faith have to do with it? I know;

it isn’t funny. Nothing funny about mortality,
how movement bleeds into clockwork,
how clockwork succumbs to its own igneous finitude.

How we aid entropy by being born.
See? I only wanted to begin, now I’m humming
the ghost-heavy refrain of imminent endings.

In that song about possibilities, someone
is hurling an empty bottle skyward. I see you:
You’re imagining it slowing towards its peak,

anticipating gravity, its ruthless duty. Stop.
Don’t. Let’s go. Let’s not be around when it shatters.
Let’s not wait for an ending.

- Mikael de Lara Co, "Poem That Had Some Difficulty With the First Line" 

today is the kind of day to just let yourself sink into the words; the words spoken, sung, breathed, by others. it's the most beautiful kind of paralysis. 

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

- Langston Hughes, "Harlem"

--

Sometimes I dream of being someone I'm not. 


A DJ (the turntable kind)?
A writer?
A label manager?


They're all within reach, but yet, not really. Maybe cuz I've missed that window of opportunity, when I had the advantage of youth and time. Now I don't have much of either. Or maybe it all comes down to  whether I'm willing to let go of everything I have now to devote myself fully to these things. 


Maybe all I really want is to pursue my whims as I please. Without the burdens of a job and money to weigh me down. I mean, my job now is pretty great. I get to go home on time (most times, anyway) to chase my fancies after-hours. 


But there are times when I feel like I'm being pulled in two different directions. My tumblr started pretty much as a way to kill time, sort of like a pinboard for music I love. Till now, I'm trying to keep it as that. I try to only post stuff I really like, and not just whatever's hot at the moment. As much as I like having more followers, I don't actively publicise or tell others about it. It's just something to keep me going outside of work. But of course there are times when I wished I could just give it my full attention, and develop it further into a fully fleshed-out blog. Then I think about the whole plethora of other blogs out there which are so much better and my dream sort of fizzles out. 


When I'm in the reality of my 9-to-5 (more like 8.30-to-6, cuz my government really needs to relook the definition of 'working hours'), there are times that I feel proud of and of course times where I felt I could've done much better. It's all good to have these career goals to work towards, but the problem is I don't really wanna continue to be a corporate slave. If not for my awesome colleagues who make work seem less 'work', I think I'd be really miserable right now. If working towards a "manager" post is all I should ever aspire to, my existence is unfortunately quite meaningless. 


Anyway I guess what I'm trying to say, is that CRAP I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANNA DO. At this moment, it looks like I'm having trouble trying to commit to either one. It's either I don't think I have the time/talent, or I just don't want to. And like pretty much everything else I do, by the time I get to committing, I'd have already lost interest. 


This is a problem that I can't really resolve right now, though I really should soon, otherwise it'd be too late to go for either option. 

This has been a Sunday night existential ramble.

first world problems

Work sucks. In summary: there are too many things to do, too many people talking, too many whims and fancies to cater to. And I have too little time, too few hands, too little ability to deal with all of that. I feel inadequate and it all feels like I'm in over my head. (And recently, a little niggling thought that I should be making more for all the crap I'm doing, has been creeping up on me.)


I've cut back on things that I shouldn't be cutting back on, like choir service and cell group meetings. And it's incredibly frustrating when people say things like, "You need some trials to bring you back." I'm not entirely sure if they're kidding, but it's not funny. 


I'm 25. Gosh, what a big number to live up to. The thing is, I don't feel anywhere close to 25. Sure, I guess I'm doing big girl things, but I'm not sure if my mentality really matches up.


But I guess it could be worse. I could be jobless, or working continuous 12am days (albeit earning wayy more), I could be stuck in a lousy, morale-sucking environment, I could have rude and demanding managers, I could have dry and humourless beings for colleagues, etc.


So I'm thinking I should be more positive and upbeat about it all, to learn to take things in stride, to take each day that comes as a challenge. Cuz I may be 25, but I'm still young. I still have so much more to learn and experience and contribute.


And it really could be worse.

“

a bouquet of clumsy words: you know that place between sleep and awake where you’re still dreaming but it’s slowly slipping? i wish we could feel like that more often. i also wish i could click my fingers three times and be transported to anywhere i like. i wish that people didn`t always say ‘just wondering’ when you both know there was a real reason behind them asking. and i wish i could get lost in the stars.

listen, there`s a hell of a good universe next door, let`s go

”


- e.e. cummings

Hard times are hard. 


When you have 3 people doing the work of 5, everyday is literally a new adventure. Seriously we're all just taking it one day at a time, cuz how are you supposed to look ahead to the next week when you're struggling even just to make it through this day?


In the words of my manager when asked how the team morale is, "I don't think they have time to think about morale."


But I WILL GET THROUGH THIS. And at least it's a team effort; you feel better knowing you're all in it together (like the High School Musical song).


One day at a time, one week at a time, one month at a time.


Now that you got it all wrong
You got it all backwards girl
Enter through the exit and exit through the entrance

aberrant, adj.


“I don’t normally do this kind of thing,” you said.
     
“Neither do I,” I assured you.
     
Later it turned out we had both met people online before, and we had both slept with people on first dates before, and we had both found ourselves falling too fast before. But we comforted ourselves with what we really meant to say, which was: “I don’t normally feel this good about what I’m doing.”
     
Measure the hope of that moment, that feeling.
     
Everything else will be measured against it.


- David Levithan, "The Lover's Dictionary"


Everyone should read this book.