Great leaps of logic
I’ve never liked making irrational decisions. Although I must make a huge disclaimer that I somehow do make emotional choices. However, whether I do or not doesn’t really matter coz the main point here is that I don’t like my determining factor when choosing a path to be my heart rather than my mind.
Call me cold, cowardly or antithesis to the wonderful spirit of carpe diem. But I actually prefer to be this way.
Why? Probably because emotions are such intangible and constantly changing non-entities. Whenever I get to air my two cents worth, I enjoy propounding my “Love is a verb, not a noun” theory. Essentially, that the great big L is in fact an action, not this great big container that one haplessly falls into. On good days, I would tell my captive audience that we need to work on love, grasping on to the rope of commitment to pull us across the chasms when people you’re supposed to love aren’t too lovable. But today is not such a day.
Actually, if you noticed, I contradicted myself.
Love cannot be akin to a container, because it is the space, the ‘non-entity’ that I was alluding to. The term ‘non entity’, evokes a common understanding that love, like wind is invisible. We don’t see it, we can’t touch it but when wind comes we feel it in our hair, we see the leaves fluttering, dancing with it. An extremely romanticized perspective isn’t it? Hah!
Guess beneath my self proclaimed armor of cynicism, youthful idealism still runs naked. I’m still fascinated with the topsy-turvy, the way the wind retouches my everyday world into this comfortable yet dissimilar fantasy. The issue being I’m fast departing the realm of youth. The loss of innocence, into the world of experience, into the fallen world, full of pain and imperfection is frightening.
Anyway, the point is that like love, as I’ve said before, any emotion is felt in varying degrees at different point in time. To cite a negative, hence more easily identifiable example, we have:
Hate
(to feel) f-ed up
Dislike
Nonchalant
Angry
Pissed off
Irritated
Miffed
If you’ve noticed, feeling nonchalant is ranked higher in intensity, over being pissed off. Have you ever told someone that you don’t feel anything about someone or an issue just to mask that strange sour aftertaste in your mouth? Or saying “it’s alright” to give up on making a point?
In my humble opinion, not caring is worse than being angry at someone, coz when I’m angry at you; it implies that you still mean enough for me to expend my energy in being angry with you. It doesn’t matter when you don’t matter.
This particular hypothesis is subsumed under my two cents theory on “The Spirit of Whatever” which one day, I might actually get down to formulating my random thoughts into words. But meanwhile, this earth shattering exposition can only reside in this long running out of breath aside, in that space circumscribed by my two pairs of index and middle fingers wriggling, in this imaginary parenthesis.
That’s rather like what I’m feeling now. As if I am occupying this plane where I don’t really exist. What am I doing? Who am I? In a situation where I’ve been before, but this time, there’s no familiarity. Like entering an enchanted forest, which you’ve been in the distant, hazy past and you’re revisiting. Yet this time, the trees look foreign, the very air you breathe seems heavier and the sensations evoked by the old sight are quite different.
And I can’t really place a finger upon it. It is different alright, but how so? Is it coz my journeys have made me a different person and this new me am now incapable of those naïve reactions which were once termed feelings?
Perhaps the memories of the previous visits to this grove still haunt me, protective of my memory of the place, trying to chase me out of this mystic area… If so, is the ghost malicious or benevolent?
Or maybe coz I’m transgressing on the sanctity of the illusive region and its guardians have punished me by removing my sensitivities, my ability to feel?
How bout the fact my guide to this magical forest is different? Pointing out different sights that the previous guides chose not to draw my attention to…
Then again, this might be the real thing. Reality as we know is often more diluted. Which inexorably brings us to the classic modernist question: What is the real thing?
I don’t know. Or better phrased, I know it, just that I haven’t discovered it.
All I feel now is that my journeying is exhausting me. Is it worth it to continue? Unknowingly, I’ve come to a full circle.
I think, therefore I am.
I feel, therefore I’m Man.
Call me cold, cowardly or antithesis to the wonderful spirit of carpe diem. But I actually prefer to be this way.
Why? Probably because emotions are such intangible and constantly changing non-entities. Whenever I get to air my two cents worth, I enjoy propounding my “Love is a verb, not a noun” theory. Essentially, that the great big L is in fact an action, not this great big container that one haplessly falls into. On good days, I would tell my captive audience that we need to work on love, grasping on to the rope of commitment to pull us across the chasms when people you’re supposed to love aren’t too lovable. But today is not such a day.
Actually, if you noticed, I contradicted myself.
Love cannot be akin to a container, because it is the space, the ‘non-entity’ that I was alluding to. The term ‘non entity’, evokes a common understanding that love, like wind is invisible. We don’t see it, we can’t touch it but when wind comes we feel it in our hair, we see the leaves fluttering, dancing with it. An extremely romanticized perspective isn’t it? Hah!
Guess beneath my self proclaimed armor of cynicism, youthful idealism still runs naked. I’m still fascinated with the topsy-turvy, the way the wind retouches my everyday world into this comfortable yet dissimilar fantasy. The issue being I’m fast departing the realm of youth. The loss of innocence, into the world of experience, into the fallen world, full of pain and imperfection is frightening.
Anyway, the point is that like love, as I’ve said before, any emotion is felt in varying degrees at different point in time. To cite a negative, hence more easily identifiable example, we have:
Hate
(to feel) f-ed up
Dislike
Nonchalant
Angry
Pissed off
Irritated
Miffed
If you’ve noticed, feeling nonchalant is ranked higher in intensity, over being pissed off. Have you ever told someone that you don’t feel anything about someone or an issue just to mask that strange sour aftertaste in your mouth? Or saying “it’s alright” to give up on making a point?
In my humble opinion, not caring is worse than being angry at someone, coz when I’m angry at you; it implies that you still mean enough for me to expend my energy in being angry with you. It doesn’t matter when you don’t matter.
This particular hypothesis is subsumed under my two cents theory on “The Spirit of Whatever” which one day, I might actually get down to formulating my random thoughts into words. But meanwhile, this earth shattering exposition can only reside in this long running out of breath aside, in that space circumscribed by my two pairs of index and middle fingers wriggling, in this imaginary parenthesis.
That’s rather like what I’m feeling now. As if I am occupying this plane where I don’t really exist. What am I doing? Who am I? In a situation where I’ve been before, but this time, there’s no familiarity. Like entering an enchanted forest, which you’ve been in the distant, hazy past and you’re revisiting. Yet this time, the trees look foreign, the very air you breathe seems heavier and the sensations evoked by the old sight are quite different.
And I can’t really place a finger upon it. It is different alright, but how so? Is it coz my journeys have made me a different person and this new me am now incapable of those naïve reactions which were once termed feelings?
Perhaps the memories of the previous visits to this grove still haunt me, protective of my memory of the place, trying to chase me out of this mystic area… If so, is the ghost malicious or benevolent?
Or maybe coz I’m transgressing on the sanctity of the illusive region and its guardians have punished me by removing my sensitivities, my ability to feel?
How bout the fact my guide to this magical forest is different? Pointing out different sights that the previous guides chose not to draw my attention to…
Then again, this might be the real thing. Reality as we know is often more diluted. Which inexorably brings us to the classic modernist question: What is the real thing?
I don’t know. Or better phrased, I know it, just that I haven’t discovered it.
All I feel now is that my journeying is exhausting me. Is it worth it to continue? Unknowingly, I’ve come to a full circle.
I think, therefore I am.
I feel, therefore I’m Man.
cLoUd DriFteD bY @ Tuesday, March 08, 2005 |
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