On a certain Wednesday, May 22, 2002, I go:
Today I scribbled madly on a piece of paper and drew tons of images of Alchemy that were floating around in my head on to the paper. I tore it into two big pieces and scrunched it into a paper ball, and bit it with my front teeth because I was so fucking frustrated. A guy sitting next to me in the class asked what I was doing, and I stopped making noises, but I had the paper ball tight in my palm and scribbled very thick and mad lines and more Alchemy images because that fucking addictive stuff is eating up my brain cells dead. I drew more crazy lines until my pen was making holes through the paper and ripped it. After class I tore it into more small pieces into a garbage can. I was going to put this on Shoutbox but it refreshed itself 3 times because obviously my words were spilling all over that little tiny box. So this is my fourth time writing this crazy shit out up to where it says “eating up my brain cells dead”, and I’m fucking laughing because it seems hilarious to me now, what I did today.
I believe in trees because there is no one else to love. I talked to a tree today, an oak tree in front of my school and its greenness was glowing through my veins while my palms rested on its big and thick and seemingly dead trunk. The spirit of the tree and the soul of the forest nymph and I believe in all that stuff. I believe in the souls of the non-moving things and non-talking things; for as long as one does not talk, one is truer.
So it’s not that I have suddenly gone mad and depressed.. it’s very often been like this with me, especially around this time of the year. It is good to know that it’s not college life that has suddenly driven me mad. Ah wow. Anyway, if any of you guys remember, this is the time that I talked to a tree at “INTERACT” (a special program designed for kids with “outside commitments”) to which I referred in a post just before the end of the LAST semester, when I was finishing up my papers for Buddhist Philosophy until two hours before my flight back home (uh, having packed nothing yet, too). So yes, this is it, the answer to what might have seemed to be a riddle of a sort to you.
Man, I keep buying books. And I love it, man. I feel normal that way. Or am I merely trying to live the impossible dream of reliving my childhood? I don’t know. Do I care? I care as much as I know I should – or I want. I want to do my minimal duties to keep myself in decent shape throughout school, but I want to live my life, do things that I want to do. I don’t necessarily think it is squandering my youth playing and partying. What is life after all, if you cannot do one thing you can purely enjoy, with no obligations or goals to achieve through it or anything but only for your own joy, amusement, entertainment, and satisfaction that you derive from it? (Yes; it would be greatly appreciated if someone could get me a copy of Eats, Shoots & Leaves please. :P)
Last night there was a tango lesson in the Student Lounge (ah, beloved place! the bland dirty ivory mock-marble walls! the miserable computers and oh-so-unbright fluorescent lights and the smelly couches of a dung hew, and the remote-less TV with two channels! oh joy, what glory! how we rejoice ourselves in this beautiful, one-and-only dwelling for us within our campus-less NEC!), and it was just amazing. Well, please do not be mistaken, this is a rare, very rare phenomenon to be observed at a place like NEC, where nobody has the time to do anything while doing nothing, where nobody wants to socialize because nobody thinks he or she is good enough while thinking at the same time nobody else is cool enough for himself or herself either, a place that is bound together with an uncanny overall absence of unity. Okay, I’ll stop ranting and get on with my tango story, because that’s what you want to hear about – or not, but that’s what I was going to talk about originally, so either way – but at the same time, please do not misunderstand based on my vent. I adore NEC. I love it. Think of it like your old house, from your childhood, if you ever lived in a house. It’s like the scratches on the wall the doorknob (dorknoob!) has made over the years, and the stains and faded colour of the wall paper in your small bedroom, or the old brown wooden bed frame that you’ve slept on since you were five, or oh man, this is a classic, like your baby blanket that is totally falling into shreds to which you hold on for your dear life regardless, or your originally white furry teddy bear that is turning grey with the red paint on its nose peeled to bare the white plastic inside (which, too, is turning grey with a strange clear hue) and the stuffing peeking through the loose ends. You know. You just love it just because you can’t not love it. It’s just part of this whole that you love.
Oh man. I really have got to learn not to go off on a long long tangent like that. I need some order in my writing. Sometimes I think my scatterbrained-ness is worsened by my totally all-over-the-place writing. Of course. Writing has a direct relationship with your thinking – the pattern and course of your thought. As Orwell and Jacques Barzun have said (as have so many others, I’m sure), clear expression comes from clear thinking, and unclear/untrue expression muddles the thought (yes, that is my Wednesday-April-28th-2004 version paraphrase). Holy. You know what I just noticed? The post that I quoted in the last post, and the post that I quoted in this post, and this post itself, were all written on a Wednesday. Don’t you find that to be a fascinating coincidence?! I think this is quite phenomenal, however accidental. May seem trivial to you, but it doesn’t seem trivial to me! Maybe it’s a certain Wednesday mood that gets me to write a lot. You know what I’m gonna do now – maybe not now, but some time soon, oh man I’m so psyched – I’m going to go through all my long posts and see on which days they were written. Don’t you think that would be a fascinating survey?! I’m totally doing this. Oh man. I’m so excited.
So – there I go again. You have just witnessed the stark proof, case in point. I did it again. But anyway, I just had to get that out, because I thought it was a fabulous coincidence to be noticed. It is wonderful guys, that you bear with me like this. And, yeah, I am sometimes worried that I am so scatterbrained and write like this, but on the other hand, it is so amusing – don’t YOU find it hilarious?! And what is life without jokes and laughs – all of this is only a joke, a play, a humourous fluff of a moment in time of this universe. (Thayne, I kind of understand why you are in astrophysics. I would too myself, had I been born and grown up under different circumstances.)
There I go.
I guess in general I just say too much. I have to get everything out. Oh wait, but don’t you misunderstand, I’m not a big mouth or anything. In fact, I really don’t say too much verbally, especially things of a judgmental/critical nature. It’s just that, when I think, which I do in a great quantity and at a lightning speed sometimes, and I want to get it all out when I feel free to do so. Okay. Recollection. So, I wouldn’t say much normally, because I don’t really feel that I should bother most of the time, but once you give me the floor.. I really do spill the beans. Out. OUT. OUT.
Anyway, so how about that tango lesson.
Okay, originally I wasn’t sure if I was going to go, because I do have a lot of stuff to do, but I happened to walk by the Student Lounge (long live, Beloved – sorry, can never help it) anyway because the Tuesday Night New Music concert at which my friend Vedran’s piece was to be played was taking place in Brown Hall, which is about twenty feet right across from it. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go in, because, yes, I AM one of the NEC people the definition of which I have succinctly provided for you in the second last paragraph; but then I glanced in and saw this very handsome male.. who seemed a little too young to be the instructor, so I couldn’t believe that he was and had to prove myself either wrong or right, so I went in. And – there it was! The Music! The woman in her black dress and crochet stockings! It’s amazing because what we did was the very basic, just simple WALKING but just with a partner and to wonderful music, and it was so unbelievably fun despite its simplicity. I was sweating profusely as well, just from this walking. I cannot describe to you just how much fun I had. And then at the very end, the two instructors put on a performance – which I thought had been practiced, but it turned out ot have been completely improvised, which totally blew me away. Tango is such a beautiful dance. The co-existence of reservation and seething undercurrent passion, order and fluidity.. and the sense of solemnity from the obligation of maintaining that balance.. plus sheer love! And they seemed so happy, hanging onto each other in a beautiful, selfless embrace, and expressing such beautifully sincere and touching music in such a self-confessing way. Ah!
The female instructor is one of those women who seem so open and sincere, with so much passion and empathy for everything surrounding her. There was so much energy that was emanating from her that was calm yet vibrant.. resillient..life-giving.. and the eagerness to reach out, the readiness to communicate – and there was that sense of emotional and maybe even spiritual understanding felt like a click at the very first glance. She is a woman in her early forties, who has seen and lived much and is able to look back and sympathize and love. I want to be like that when I am older. I will try.
What an unforgettable, ador-able woman. Have I mentioned to you that I truly love, love the people of my gender?!?!?
Anyway, so I think last night is to be an unforgettable memory. I think dance is a wonderful thing. I look forward to seeing those instructors more, particularly the woman.. If you ever have the chance, please take some tango lessons.. or any other kinds of dance lessons.. I think it is really good for the soul.
There. Out. Done. Man, that was a long writing hour. The beans have been spilled, out and out, and I feel empty, cleansed, light enough to get on with my day now.
Oh. I forgot to mention.. it’s quite important, though important enough that I won’t forget even if I didn’t write, but, I made up with Gavin, my friend Gavin who was that special friend who made me feel so excellently elated, joyful and happy on October 18th, 2002 (I just felt like checking out entries from October 2002 this morning, and came across that
– silence –
Enough said about that. It is.. too beautiful and special, and so, impossible and unfit to be put into mere words. Because, it was so much more. It’s this jumble of emotional, mental, aural, sensorial memories the crystallization of which I cannot describe or even decide. Let’s just leave it at that, that it was – beautiful. Thanks God, for sending some people like Gavin onto this earth so I have some company and can feel some kind of belonging and connection to and around the world. Uh, sorry, that sounded a tad too melancholy, but I just meant to describe an image I saw in my head – no, I don’t feel completely desolate. Please. You guys are all my friends. I just mean, Gavin is a really wonderful friend, just like you guys.
Ah. I need to explain myself too much. It is a combination of self-absorption, the insecurity that begets an urgency to communicate and be loved, the word insecurity in its purer sense rather than the judgmental label of negative connotation attached to it.
Okay. Enough addenda, even.