Solitude

The Man of Sorrows by James Ensor

Laugh, and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone.
- Ella Wheeler Wilcox -

I've seen the movie Oldboy early last year. But recently I rewatched it again, together with the other two within The Vengeance Trilogy. Not to say I feel precisely what the protagonist felt when he was spending his fifteen years in the cell, but rather how such a quote's alternate meaning relate closely to how I have been feeling for quite a while.

I used to belong to the likes of those who chose not to behave otherwise on the outside when they are feeling sorrow within. I once found that to be rather hypocritical and little reason to justify such pretence. If one's well being of the mind and heart is nowhere near wholesome, why feign otherwise? Why elude it from other souls? The ego? The fear of being deemed as weak? The deliberate avoidance of having to answer to unwanted but overwhelming patronisation? Or even, to deliver reassurance to the ones who care and show concern?

As of late, I made a lot of self-depreciating jokes on mishaps that befell me. Could it be a form of optimism appearing merely in the guise of a nihilistic approach? Things could be funny when I find myself in the company of others. I've tried to stay outside for as long as I could. However upon returning to my bedroom within the confines of four scantily decorated walls, there was no one to tell lame jokes to. And in a distressing silence I sat myself, wondering what I have done to witness the unbecoming of the once very transparent me.

I'm okay. I'm not okay. Don't ask me for the truth, please, for I am too confused to answer. Maybe I'm just emotionally lonely...

Too Young Too Old

Young, in my opinion, is only a matter of perception.

I've been told many a time that I'm behaving too young for my age, or that I'm still young that I can have many opportunities for some thing I'm currently deprived of, et cetra.

Which is not something I beg to differ of course.

Yet, one can be so young at heart when they live nearly three quarters of a century without letting their age hold back their imagination. On the contrary, a twenty year old can feel that life serves not much of a purpose to exist and as a result dwell in nihilism. Not am I expressing my views on what one should and should not think according to their age, but rather what I have observed.

I don't find pride when people older than me revealling how they sometimes find it maladjusted to see how my current mentality is chronologically misplaced in comparison to my age. I would have been flattered. It is my belief that maturity is strongly influenced by the amount of exposure one has gone through, many would agree. Those who fall and manage to crawl their way up again, learn to accept and condition their tolerance to the imperfections the world has bestowed upon all of us.

We are what we have gone through. Which is why I remind myself to be thankful whenever I hit the shits.

"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." - Winston Churchill

We Passed the Test

Everyone nodded their heads. My project manager let out an apprehensive, "So, are we all happy with the system?"

"Yep."
"Apart from those minor graphical errors, I'm fine with it."
"It's working and I agree with that."

The other consultant chirped, "So, shall we all head to the office to sign off the approval?"

People began to move. Before leaving the room, the auditors said their thanks and shook each of our hands from our company.

"Well done, Ian."
"You've done well."
"Congratulations."

My elation was hard to be suppressed. I replied all of them with a weak smile and a shivering "Thank you very much!" In that instant I recalled the hours the team had put in for the past six days. I later calculated that I've pretty much worked for almost 80 hours for the last week. My sight hopped to my regional manager after I shook the auditors' hands. The pride and relief on his face. He gave me an acknowledging nod. That nod meant so much to any one of us who worked in the project, especially me. It was like a close shave from a disaster. Should they failed us, our company would be copping a lot of loss in our finance and reputation.

That nod, marked his recognition of my efforts, clearing the doubt that I casted upon myself all these times, wondering if the amount of energy and time I've invested in my work would bring me any regard in the company. That day, my regional manager confirmed it. My heart shivered. And I felt my tear glands tightened, ensuing blurred vision. I knew very well that my occupation usually takes place at a very masculine venue, due to its nature in the builders industry. And crying in front of many males just because we passed the test is not a very convincing excuse. I held really hard to hold the tears back.

The hospital was the first ever project I got heavily involved in since I joined the company. More than one year it has been. And I actually spent that long a time to come to where we are now. I had to admit, 'twas a pretty emotional moment for me, as a cadet software engineer to gain more respect and exprience, not to mention having building a closer relationship with the team mates. Having thought about this, all my normal woes in my life just did not seem to be so disconcerting anymore. I can at least say at this stage that I like my job. Not many can afford that, and I might not be able to experience it for too long either. So I'll just cherish it at the moment. And head back to the less intense grinding for the next two weeks, tidying up the system before handing it over to the hospital management.

I made it... We made it through the Independent Review Test...

Critical Situations Make Ian a Hardworking Boy

For the past two weeks, I swear, I've never worked so hard before. I worked on an average of ten hours per day through out the week, and also worked on a Saturday. This week, I did sixteen hours on a Friday, which happens to be yesterday. I got home at one in the morning, utterly exhausted, but not reluctantly. To make things even more intense, I worked today, and will be working tomorrow as well. A very good way to burn out your weekend, isn't it?

Don't get me wrong. My company is not one that condones extensive slavery. It's just that we have hit the deadline of our project and the situation is rather critical. And I volunteered to commit my time into the job even if it means grinding through the weekend. I don't think they'll pay me overtime (which is double pay for the weekends), but I'm sure I'll get time in lieu, or something along that line. Better than nothing. I need a break anyway.

I have every intention to buy myself an acoustic guitar as a reward for my efforts. If they would pay me overtime that would be ideal. Yet again, I'm not counting on that. I feel productive albeit the bloodshot eyes, the aching body, the throbbing veins I feel within my cranium. Let's just hope we get through this as soon as possible, before my fatigue really hits a chronic level.

Let us pass the Independent Review Test!!! I want to rest!!!

Top 5 Favourite Baby Videos

Here's just a top five list I made for my own...

Number #5
The Baby who's afraid of her own shadow...



Number #4
Hysterically Laughing Baby


Number #3
"He's Gonna Kick My Ask"


Number #2
"Buhlud"


Number #1
"Charlie Bit Me" -- (This one, I watch it everytime I get the chance to, never fail to make me laugh)


Here's a special one...
Shows you how popular Charlie and Harry's clip is...


There's more of the Charlie's spoof as above on Youtube, by the way. I did not bother watching them all...

Me vs. the Clock

It has always been a struggle with time. Time is what gives me stress these days. I admit that punctuality is nowhere near being listed as one of my fortes. Some of you might even disagree with defining being on time as something someone is good at, or not. It could very well be deemed a responsibility, and obligation in this world that runs with the clocks. Hence it's either I'm really retarded when it comes to time management, or not being able to be on time is just almost as difficult as getting up early in the morning, during the cold?

Alright. I kid myself no longer. 'Tis a habit I never wanted to develop upon myself. It is as simple as that.

Why can I never be on time? Because I find it extremely difficult to get up in the morning.

But why? Because I tend to stay up late the night before, resulting in less than eight hours worth of sleep.

Yet why? I didn't want to sleep just yet for I could always find things I want or need to do that I don't feel like sitting on until the next day.

Everyone is entitled twenty four hours a day. No more, no less. I'm feeling sullen by the fact that there are so many things that I wanted to do, be it beneficial or not, but never have enough time to get them done. Making priorities and sticking to executing the important tasks is ever so challenging when you are easily distracted by other possibly urgent but insignificant events.

Right now, I am feeling like a child who promised his mother that he'd sleep at 10 pm sharp but making all kinds of excuse while dilly-dallying with deliberation at 10.02pm as his mother stands at the corner of the room, starting sternly at him.

Just a while more please???

Dedication to an Old Friend

Today began with an auspicious event in the temple. Two of our Buddhist group members had tied the knot and everyone threw an informal party to celebrate the sacred matrimony of this pair of newlyweds. They were not really close friends of mine. Nonetheless I conveyed my share of best wishes to them. And I thought it would have been a day filled with joviality.

Who would have known...

A text message found me later in the evening, informing me that an old friend passed away in a car crash earlier in the day. This old friend, I haven't been conversing with her for a pretty long time. I still recall the last time I talked to her was when we had a fall out about early last year. We were not on proper talking terms that I ended the conversation abruptly and never really made the effort to talk to her again.

And now that she's left this world, hopefully for a better one, I realised I never really get to tell her I no longer feel the resentment. Yet it's oh too late now. Such a typical scenario for remorse I swear it would make a generic storyline. It left a few of my heart strings tugged when I then realised that she had the intention to make up with me all these times, at which I ignored. Who would have guessed?

I'm actually struggling to find words to continue. So here's to my old friend...

May you rest in peace...

And should you happen to be reincarnated, I sincerely hope that you find yourself born in a better next-life. You've suffered your share in this life from the woes you used to tell me.

Farewell, M.

M (1st Sep 1982 - 26th Apr 2008)
Photo taken 12th January 2007

Self Revelations

I've always embraced the concept of how we tend to over-react whenever we find ourselves in an uncomfortable situation which we had never encountered before. And usually in hindsight we realise so and beat ourselves up for not dealing with our problems in a calmer, more subtle manner.

Having grown slightly older through my twenties, I recalled numerous occasions of such example when I was younger, worrying about things that held little or no significance, feeling excessive anger which could have been shrugged off with a lesser groan of disapproval, and dwelling in melancholy blown way out of proportion than it really was. My lesson learnt, I took too many things too seriously. It was not the end of the world. Life goes on. And it did thus so here I am who I am now.

On the contrary, ironically enough, certain things in life were taken too lightly when I viewed them from an unknowing, ignorant perspective. Some troubles and difficulties that others faced who shared with me their frustration to get through their emotional barriers, I took their impact with a pinch of salt. I suggested that they could be done as long as we had the will to do so. They scoffed at me for not offering adequate empathy. I was accused of judging what they went through from a holier-than-thou point of view. I justified their indictments as defensive measures for the fragile heart not strong enough to take hard, cold criticisms. I thought I comprehended.

And then here comes a point where I approach these somewhat similar situations as theirs. And my arguments have inevitably been put to the test. As much as I hate hearing them telling me, it is no less more true that some things are easier said than done. I felt my conflicting emotions struggling in fear. The moment of truth replied me with the cold, hard truth I've always thought would be necessary for one to accept in order to get their act together. That I am only human, as fragile as most of us are.

It left me disconcerted. The thought of seeing the obstacles coming, assuming that I am well-prepared enough with just the acknowledgement of my problem's existence. No longer my ideals in that regard stand true. We can never be too well-prepared unless we have gone through harsh experiences ourselves. That's when we really learn. That's where we grow stronger, provided it does not kill us beforehand.

The transition from ignorance to hindsight. Such a daunting journey to make. The good news is, they're inevitable. The bad news is, the good news was not really good news...