Day 381: Common Ground

What more is there to say?
I dont really want to know

Just wanna be here now
But you are not here now

Will we ever be on common ground?
So close, but so far away

Day 369: Third Culture Bolshevik

“In every generation there are a few souls, call them lucky or cursed, who are simply born not belonging, who come into the world without strong affiliation to family or location or nation or race. Those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected a powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness so that we mostly conform, we hide our secret identities beneath false skins of those identities which bear the belongers’ seal of approval. But the truth leaks out in our dreams; alone in our beds—because we are alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves—we soar, we fly, we flee.”


-Salman Rushdie


After reading John H Quinley's post of Salman Rushdie's quote, I felt a need to confess about a few things.


Rootlessness - what is it? How is it so that one can define such terms without understanding its meaning? Why does society deem us as outcasts, just as any other foreigner, alien, outsider?


Sometimes at night, when I'm alone in the dark, comfortable solitude before going to sleep, a veil of uncertainty envelops me. It's not necessarily a sensation of ... pain one would feel, but rather one that strangles the rootless mentally and emotionally. Sometimes, you just discard them as you would with any problem when your life is on a high. Sometimes, you have no choice but to struggle with it; sometimes so long that it will keep you awake throughout the night... for hours.


But even night after night after night, how is it that we fail to find a solution to this problem in our lives? Isn't it supposed to be one of those problems where you have to think about it for a while, make a mental adjustment to your thought process, and get over it - just like that?


It's almost as if I've been running around in circles where you'd think you're getting somewhere. As a third culture kid in college, you're even more distinct from the "international" crowd in the school population - you're an international third culture kid. The first few months of your college career would go fine, because you're all so excited to be in a new country, new town, new school, in a new community. But then when reality hits you and when your heart starts to asks you strange questions, like- why is it so difficult adjusting? I thought I'm liking this place pretty fine? Why is it so hard to make meaningful connections with the people around me, even though these guys and girls are really friendly? Is it something that I'm doing wrong?


You swat those thoughts away, because they can only make you depressed and more self-conscious. But as time rolls on and you find yourself less happy and spending a lot of time THINKING, you can't help but start to take these questions more seriously and notice that you're a broken water jar (for a lack of better analogies). And the only sensible, sane thing to do is to fill up that jar that's draining all your emotional energy. So, what do you do - you do all sorts of things to make yourself feel content, happy, pleased. And that can be anything you can think of: overworking yourself in academics and getting a grade that makes you happy. Meeting new people in hopes that you'd find a best friend - that would make you happy. Smoking weed and doing shat with your friends so your problems won't haunt you for that night. Getting smashed at a party or social gathering so you would feel less worried. Finding a hookup buddy, working out in the gym, writing your feelings down on paper, obsessing yourself with video games... whatever. Whatever you can find. But I don't think it takes too long before you come to realize that there's not much you can do about it. Like I said, it's almost as if you're running in circles, only coming to know you really haven't gotten anywhere. You thought you were going somewhere, but you really haven't.


But even after thinking and writing and shedding tears and trying to find an answer for years and years, I still don't know anything! It's so stupid and fruitless, this whole thing. I don't know anything but one thing: that I am rootless. Like, yeah, I learned some things on the way, and I've built character from these social barriers that I had to face, and I've changed the way I would talk to people, but that's basically identifying the bolshevik problems that you were born into this world with - hooray.


I don't know. After a while, you become somewhat numb to this stuff, but I think you can still confess to yourself that you still have those times where this rootlessness issue keeps you awake at night and it makes you feel so, so, so homesick sometimes and so starved for that special something that you become emaciated. Not literally.


Again, I don't know. People react to such situations differently, but I'm sure a bunch of you out there can relate to this. Keep up the good work, and don't be afraid to be who you are. Most people we meet don't really give a dog's poo anyways. Let's just be the best rootless people.

Day 365: Anniversary?

“In every generation there are a few souls, call them lucky or cursed, who are simply born not belonging, who come into the world without strong affiliation to family or location or nation or race. Those who value stability, who fear transience, uncertainty, change, have erected a powerful system of stigmas and taboos against rootlessness so that we mostly conform, we hide our secret identities beneath false skins of those identities which bear the belongers’ seal of approval. But the truth leaks out in our dreams; alone in our beds—because we are alone at night, even if we do not sleep by ourselves—we soar, we fly, we flee.”

-Salman Rushdie

Day 334: Contemplation

We rationalize and justify whatever it is we end up doing and wherever it is we end up going, because contemplating those roads not taken is a fruitless task.

Day 321: Glass Cannon

“I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.”

-Gene Fowler

Through all the rushing hustles
And the hustling rushes
And during raucous silences
And hush-hush commotions
With the chittering chatters
And the mindless mutterings
Of your matterful matters
On vowelful platters
Of all sorts of shapes
And colors and hues
And sizes
And smells
I wrinkle my nose
Then formulate my prose
Of what I ought
But not naught
To be
To see
To do
To undo
I ponder for moment
Just for a little while
Just to take a breath
Just for a wee while
Should I motion a motion?
To pronounce a notion
Especially a question
That I would like to protest
That my hopes
Many of them
Maybe dreams
Some I do have
My aspirations
My wishes
Few in mind
Though nice at first
Are they all
After all
But a waste?

Sometimes, I am filled with suitable ideas of what I want to do later in life. After all, I don't want to be stuck in a career that I absolutely detest. I wouldn't want to work in some financial firm, even though I might make bank and get to do a lot of things that I want to do later in life. But where's the sense in that? I would much rather team up with others in some NGO and do some developmental work in a third world country.

But the more and more I relish on such thoughts, I find myself asking that ugly and dreadful question, "What if this/that is not what I'm meant to do?"

I feel like a glass cannon much at times. Being fearless can, after all, lead to undesirable outcomes. I'm totally not afraid of doing what I'm meant to do or what I passionately want to achieve, but what I am afraid of is being wrong. I feel that being wrong about it when you're 40 years down into life is just horrible.

Day 287: Deep in the Fields

Feeling impatient
Listening to Death and All His Friends - Coldplay

When I'm left alone in the wee hours of morning, when I'm reflecting back on the events that happened throughout the day, when I'm faced with my bothersome troubles, why do I feel so vulnerable? Why am I so afraid? Why are we left to don our masks and be dancers to a senseless rhythm?

Why do I feel like I am functioning perfectly well, yet so broken? Why do I feel like I don't need anyone else to rely on, but feel like I need a shoulder to lean on?

Why do I feel my soul's empty like a dried up well? Why do I feel like I'm half a man? What is it exactly that keeps me awake at night?

Day 273: What Makes Me - You - Us - Them ... Human?

Feeling hungry
Listening to Edvard Grieg - Stambogsblad

I think everyone faces this question every once in a while, after taking a long, unbiased look at oneself and the people that surround him.

What makes that person as much as human as I am? What qualities of that person render them human? What makes them deserving of my good feelings?

Yeah.

Not a human, but human.

I think peace will come only when the whole world realizes that we are all the same beings. Beings with feelings, conscience, hurts, blessings, weaknesses, and a constant hunger to be cared for, listened to, and loved. But until then.

Winter in Seoul pt I

Feeling comfy

Listening to the loud humming of a snack vending machine

It's almost 2 in the morning and -13' Celcius outside

I am inside the student lounge at Se-Jong University in Seoul

The most drastic change from Thailand to Korea is the difference in climate. So much that I can see my breath - while I think it's cool, my 26 year-old cousin laughs at me.

Ah, climate. I didn't think Seoul would be this cold. Or more like... I didn't think it would get any colder than the first day here. And nature has been telling me I'm wrong these past couple days. It's getting colder and colder every single day, and as far as I know, it's like peak time right now.

Heh, why am I not surprised? I have to wear gloves and leggings before going outside, even during broad daylight just so my fingers won't go purple. And then I start wishing the weather was warmer - something you never do in Thailand, ever. Sometimes my facial muscles become stiff, so it's pretty funny when I try to talk - it's all slurred (and my cousin laughs at me).

Your ears go numb, too. Your brain tells you that your fingers are touching your right year, but your right ear doesn't tell your brain to tell you that your fingers are touching it right now, because the right year that's being touched by your fingers right now ar.. Yeah.

I don't know if this would be interesting to you or not, but during nighttime, your breath can stay visible in the air for FOUR seconds! I counted this. No joke.

The puff of air from your mouth floats in the air, starts drifting away, then disappears in a huge nuclear explosion. I witnessed this. No joke.

Then there are some crazy girls who wear short skirts with no leggings, tights, nor (long) socks in this crazy weather. Some just wear shorts. It's like me wearing my swimming drunks outside. They're crazy, I tell you. Wait, they are usually pretty, so only the ones that are not pretty count in the "crazy" list.

Ha ha, just kidding.

PS: My flight to LAX got delayed to January 30th, Friday. I'll probably be getting there 10:15 in the morning, or at least that's what my ticket says.