Dear blog,
For me, the most interesting part about a mystery novel lies not within the excitement of being able to analyze the crime from the perspective of a sleuth nor the mesmerizing journey into the psychology of the suspects.On the contrary, i prefer to look at lies and be on the trail of them.
Murder, theft,blackmail and sexual abuse have always and will always form the crux of mystery writing. The heart pounding plots and mental bogging techniques can only be achieved if there exist lies and deceptions that divert the attention of even the most skilled readers.Perhaps, subconsciously we are preparing ourselves for the worst of human nature even more so when we preached about the glorious nature of kindness and mutual respect. The drug addict butler, the kleptomaniac maid, the flirtatious mistress of the manor, the gambling children and the unexpected visitor from a dark past are what makes mystery novels so compelling to the mundane readers.As we peruse the classical writings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or of Dame Agatha Christie, do we not have the tendency to jump into our own views of what happened, who-dun it based on red herrings or personal bias? Do we not behave like a bloodhound faithfully following the faint scent of guilt and guile in the air as he gradually formed our version of the story.
Mystery novels have the uncanny ability to lure us into dabbling in the fine art of accusing characters whom each and every one of might be interested in pointing fingers to. Curiosity and the adrenaline pumping act of proclaiming our intelligence are major driving force behind the keen interest in mystery, suspense and thriller movies. We like to see blood, violence and gore even though we abhor and condemn them. Our pupils widened when he reached to the final pages of the novel hoping to see if our predictions were correct. It gives us a slight sense of triumph if our accusations were right on the target for we do not have to rely on the trouble of finding incriminating evidences, running around from one eye witnesses to another, hoping fervently for a slight of a tongue or a furtive glance as what we hope sleuths would do in real life.
But would real life detectives or sleuth be as eager in their work as they claim? That is question without a clear cut means of answering it. But how about politicians, demagogues glancing at documents after documents behind the desk who draw delight at the downfall of a rival. Surely they would be interesting sleuths in mystery novels? After all, mystery novels are fictitious and may pale in comparison with every single scandalous gossips uttered by old maids sipping coffee or tea with the frontpage of the newspapers sitting comfortably in their laps. Sometimes, all it takes is a photograph, a lipstick smug, a gossipy crowd to weave a nice mystery novel called politics.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
How do you feel being naked?
Dear blog,
I was thinking about how attracted and fascinated I was at the sheer idea of being able to express whatever ideas or opinions that I have about life.The freedom to type to voice out opinions under the minimal interference possible can be regarded as the principal reason as to why people blog and why readers would spend a certain amount of time and effort in savoring the writings of prolific bloggers.
Somehow, I feel the need to defend myself by saying that blogging has now lost its charm in me and a few of my friends.The absence of posts is not due to the lack of materials that we can sink our teeth in nor the increasingly hectic lifestyle of international students coping with foreign education systems.We were simply bored at the idea of blogging and flaunting our sense of individuality.
A very dear friend of mine used to question the dreadfulness of the internet as everything he posted, every utter nonsense, every gibberish shout-outs is liable for the scrutiny of other.It pains him to see robust social networking websites such as facebook,myspace and the almost obsolete friendster are growing more and more crowded. To my own amusement, the horrid of social networking strengthen by technology is not well accepted by youths, the young generation who have yet the experience or maturity to think about being "stark naked" in the eyes of observers.
It has always been human nature to think negatively about others.Perhaps, the ignition of a scandalous remark or the unconscious distribution of gossip is a reflection of our own insecurities and cry for attention.Perhaps, that was what attracted political bloggers in the first place. Every phrase constructed, every sentence concocted serve as a triumphant cry of democracy and freedom.The criticisms made on current governmental policies may be coated under " constructive criticism".Still, the freedom of speech promotes the exchange of information and opinions.
The main problem is: How confident are we towards the level of information that are lying within our grasp?
Blogging is almost figuratively speaking similar to having a kink for public nudity.We enjoy the increasing number of visitors reflected on our stat counters.We basically scream in joy upon receiving admiration and hungry looks from blog stalkers. We protest defiantly at the slightest contempt because we expose who we really are underneath that piece of garment coined as " identity". However, just like a convict repeated accused of public nudity, the kick from seeing the frighten looks of conservative young girls or the blood-shot eyes of old ladies somehow subdued as the diminishing return mechanism manifest itself.
In the end, bloggers would eventually have to ask themselves: Have you grown tired of exposing your naked to the scrutiny of the public eyes?
I was thinking about how attracted and fascinated I was at the sheer idea of being able to express whatever ideas or opinions that I have about life.The freedom to type to voice out opinions under the minimal interference possible can be regarded as the principal reason as to why people blog and why readers would spend a certain amount of time and effort in savoring the writings of prolific bloggers.
Somehow, I feel the need to defend myself by saying that blogging has now lost its charm in me and a few of my friends.The absence of posts is not due to the lack of materials that we can sink our teeth in nor the increasingly hectic lifestyle of international students coping with foreign education systems.We were simply bored at the idea of blogging and flaunting our sense of individuality.
A very dear friend of mine used to question the dreadfulness of the internet as everything he posted, every utter nonsense, every gibberish shout-outs is liable for the scrutiny of other.It pains him to see robust social networking websites such as facebook,myspace and the almost obsolete friendster are growing more and more crowded. To my own amusement, the horrid of social networking strengthen by technology is not well accepted by youths, the young generation who have yet the experience or maturity to think about being "stark naked" in the eyes of observers.
It has always been human nature to think negatively about others.Perhaps, the ignition of a scandalous remark or the unconscious distribution of gossip is a reflection of our own insecurities and cry for attention.Perhaps, that was what attracted political bloggers in the first place. Every phrase constructed, every sentence concocted serve as a triumphant cry of democracy and freedom.The criticisms made on current governmental policies may be coated under " constructive criticism".Still, the freedom of speech promotes the exchange of information and opinions.
The main problem is: How confident are we towards the level of information that are lying within our grasp?
Blogging is almost figuratively speaking similar to having a kink for public nudity.We enjoy the increasing number of visitors reflected on our stat counters.We basically scream in joy upon receiving admiration and hungry looks from blog stalkers. We protest defiantly at the slightest contempt because we expose who we really are underneath that piece of garment coined as " identity". However, just like a convict repeated accused of public nudity, the kick from seeing the frighten looks of conservative young girls or the blood-shot eyes of old ladies somehow subdued as the diminishing return mechanism manifest itself.
In the end, bloggers would eventually have to ask themselves: Have you grown tired of exposing your naked to the scrutiny of the public eyes?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Hibernation is over!
Dear blog,
I'm extremely sorry for such a late addition of post for my amusement.Truth to be told, I was lazy and was slacking off in writing that happened to be a strong passion that I've nurtured through out the years.
The lost of inspiration and the cavalier attitude that I am showing you greatly pains me every time when i was stalking others' blogs.Not for today, I'm afraid.
Dear blog,
It's been almost 11 months since I've actually picked up the need to blog and to tell little stories about the latest happenings around me.It seems ironic that it took me so many months to realize that the suffocating schedules that I faced, the mentally tormenting exams that I took is no reason to be lazy or to be procrastinating.
Hibernation's over! I told myself as I picked up a new book from the library shelf. i realized how stupid I was to let my passion for writing to subside, with ebbing determination cloaked by unnecessary self depreciation.
Never again should I be lazy to blog.
Never again should I have nothing to share.
Never again should I forget that:
there's a little place in the internet that I can call as my little garden of inspiration.
I'm extremely sorry for such a late addition of post for my amusement.Truth to be told, I was lazy and was slacking off in writing that happened to be a strong passion that I've nurtured through out the years.
The lost of inspiration and the cavalier attitude that I am showing you greatly pains me every time when i was stalking others' blogs.Not for today, I'm afraid.
Dear blog,
It's been almost 11 months since I've actually picked up the need to blog and to tell little stories about the latest happenings around me.It seems ironic that it took me so many months to realize that the suffocating schedules that I faced, the mentally tormenting exams that I took is no reason to be lazy or to be procrastinating.
Hibernation's over! I told myself as I picked up a new book from the library shelf. i realized how stupid I was to let my passion for writing to subside, with ebbing determination cloaked by unnecessary self depreciation.
Never again should I be lazy to blog.
Never again should I have nothing to share.
Never again should I forget that:
there's a little place in the internet that I can call as my little garden of inspiration.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Give it up, people!
Dear blog,
I believe it’s been a while since I’ve actually started to indulge myself in the joy of writing a blog. Yes, it’s been a while. Frankly, I thought I have lost it when it comes to penning down my thoughts and idea and later convert these observations of mine into understandable words for laymen like me. Just when I was quite agitated by the fact that I have practically nothing to say, something that happened prompted me into typing it down.
Dear blog,
What I am going to tell you later might not struck you as something noteworthy and worthwhile; yet, I feel that that incident that I saw with my very own eyes ought to be expressed using my words, through my way of saying it.
Dear blog,
It all started when I was on the way to KL Central from Imbi via the monorail. I wasn’t travelling alone since my father who happened to have plans of his one visited me during a very hot Saturday morning. Crowded, crammed and shaky would be the words found fitting to describe our local public transport and the same situation is unfortunately pervasive everywhere in KL. The term “a can of sardines” is somewhat a cliché expression that might be apt to describe the condition of the monorail my father and I boarded. In fact, I felt the law of motion is at work when I felt my pushed into the compartment by the force exerted by restless passengers behind me. I could barely feel my hands that were squeezed by passengers who were trying to make their way into the nearly full compartment.
It was then that I stand witness to something that struck as an anomaly in the increasingly inhuman life of fellow city dwellers. A young man, presumably in his early twenties(give or take a couple of years), with a medium sized bag positioned on his lap, tried to get up from his seat and made polite gestures instructing my father to take! With a delightful expression that I knew so well since I was a child, my father just shook his head and smiled at the young man. Understood the polite gesture addressed to him, the young man retreated back into his seat and resuming the vacant look that he had before.
When I jokingly asked my father about his refusal to sit at a seat offered to him, my father just said:
“It’s very rare to see a young fellow giving up his seat for an old geezer like me. I’m happy at the thought and decided not to take it because the young man definitely deserves it!” my father chuckled and continued to joke about his grey hairs and old age diseases.
Frankly, I found the experience strikingly odd for a normal Malaysian, to be specific, Malaysian youth like me to give up my seat to a complete stranger. I might be exaggerating here, but when was the last time you’ve ever give up your seat for anyone other than your families and friends?
“Give your seats to those who really need it such as pregnant ladies, senior citizens, physically challenged people, children when you are taking the public transport”
Dear blog,
Those few words above are constantly displayed inside compartments of trains, monorails and even public buses .However, the question lies in how deeply imbued was the notion within the hearts of youths like me?
When we see an old man standing inside a small but crowded bus, do we really spontaneously ask the man to sit on our place?
Or is it that we hesitate for a while, thinking about the ramification of such random thought of kindness?
Or we observe the condition of the old man before any immediate actions are instructed by the piece of muscle that we proudly refer to as the brain?
Or is it that we assist the old man with a faint motive of being acknowledged by the people around us?
Or worse still, we cast our glance at the ordinary scenery outside with feigned indifference created from the temporary indulgence of the comfort we achieved?
Dear blog,
There are times when I feel that the world is a very cold place to stay in. Even the harshest winter in the Scandinavian islands is not to be compared with the increasingly indifferent mask that we put on every single moment of our lives. We prefer to sit and fall asleep in the train until we reach our destination than to stand quietly for almost 20 minutes with a minor cramp in the leg. Yes, we hesitate when it comes to surrendering our comfort zones. The absence of pleasure and excitement deter us from embracing the idealism of compassionate living.
Nevertheless, don’t you feel that you might want the same kind treatment one day?
I believe it’s been a while since I’ve actually started to indulge myself in the joy of writing a blog. Yes, it’s been a while. Frankly, I thought I have lost it when it comes to penning down my thoughts and idea and later convert these observations of mine into understandable words for laymen like me. Just when I was quite agitated by the fact that I have practically nothing to say, something that happened prompted me into typing it down.
Dear blog,
What I am going to tell you later might not struck you as something noteworthy and worthwhile; yet, I feel that that incident that I saw with my very own eyes ought to be expressed using my words, through my way of saying it.
Dear blog,
It all started when I was on the way to KL Central from Imbi via the monorail. I wasn’t travelling alone since my father who happened to have plans of his one visited me during a very hot Saturday morning. Crowded, crammed and shaky would be the words found fitting to describe our local public transport and the same situation is unfortunately pervasive everywhere in KL. The term “a can of sardines” is somewhat a cliché expression that might be apt to describe the condition of the monorail my father and I boarded. In fact, I felt the law of motion is at work when I felt my pushed into the compartment by the force exerted by restless passengers behind me. I could barely feel my hands that were squeezed by passengers who were trying to make their way into the nearly full compartment.
It was then that I stand witness to something that struck as an anomaly in the increasingly inhuman life of fellow city dwellers. A young man, presumably in his early twenties(give or take a couple of years), with a medium sized bag positioned on his lap, tried to get up from his seat and made polite gestures instructing my father to take! With a delightful expression that I knew so well since I was a child, my father just shook his head and smiled at the young man. Understood the polite gesture addressed to him, the young man retreated back into his seat and resuming the vacant look that he had before.
When I jokingly asked my father about his refusal to sit at a seat offered to him, my father just said:
“It’s very rare to see a young fellow giving up his seat for an old geezer like me. I’m happy at the thought and decided not to take it because the young man definitely deserves it!” my father chuckled and continued to joke about his grey hairs and old age diseases.
Frankly, I found the experience strikingly odd for a normal Malaysian, to be specific, Malaysian youth like me to give up my seat to a complete stranger. I might be exaggerating here, but when was the last time you’ve ever give up your seat for anyone other than your families and friends?
“Give your seats to those who really need it such as pregnant ladies, senior citizens, physically challenged people, children when you are taking the public transport”
Dear blog,
Those few words above are constantly displayed inside compartments of trains, monorails and even public buses .However, the question lies in how deeply imbued was the notion within the hearts of youths like me?
When we see an old man standing inside a small but crowded bus, do we really spontaneously ask the man to sit on our place?
Or is it that we hesitate for a while, thinking about the ramification of such random thought of kindness?
Or we observe the condition of the old man before any immediate actions are instructed by the piece of muscle that we proudly refer to as the brain?
Or is it that we assist the old man with a faint motive of being acknowledged by the people around us?
Or worse still, we cast our glance at the ordinary scenery outside with feigned indifference created from the temporary indulgence of the comfort we achieved?
Dear blog,
There are times when I feel that the world is a very cold place to stay in. Even the harshest winter in the Scandinavian islands is not to be compared with the increasingly indifferent mask that we put on every single moment of our lives. We prefer to sit and fall asleep in the train until we reach our destination than to stand quietly for almost 20 minutes with a minor cramp in the leg. Yes, we hesitate when it comes to surrendering our comfort zones. The absence of pleasure and excitement deter us from embracing the idealism of compassionate living.
Nevertheless, don’t you feel that you might want the same kind treatment one day?
Monday, June 2, 2008
The day when everything went wrong
Dear blog,
Have you ever been in this situation whereby you are hoping so hard for an auspicious day to light up your rather boring, repetitious lifestyle? And have you ever experience that after that wish of your, something unpleasant just sneak behind you. Leaving you speechless and vulnerable?
Well, frankly, the past 24 hours can be regarded as one of the most dramatically worst day of my summer. I rarely mention about things happening around me but I think this should be an exception since I’m up to the mood to do so.
After spending almost 3 enjoyable days in the laps of my warm cozy house, I reluctantly dragged my heavy luggage and bags full with local delicacies to the bus station, waiting for my trip back to yet another hectic college life. It was night and the station was swarming with young people like me who were not so eager to abandon the sweet embrace of relaxation and laziness offered in our houses.I had my bus ticket placed neatly in my wallet and I was talking to my father about the latest happenings in my college.
As we were talking, an elderly woman with a lot of bags placed them near to my enourmously looking luggage.Then, she began to removed the worn out batik cloth that was wrapped around her neck and absentmindedly threw it on top of mine luggage.Later, a few children, presumably her grandchildren started to cover my luggage with the jackets that they took off. Initially, I did not pay much attention to the actions of the lady and her family.I was wrong. Before I knew it, her grandchildren put their bags right on top of the jackets and batik cloth.
I simply can’t take it anymore, I made a mental note myself. Therefore, I politely asked the lady to remove the bags and the jackets and the worn out cloth from my luggage.The lady looked at me with such a quizzical look that suggest her surprise at my polite demand.
“What are you talking about?” she replied in rather defensive tone.
“Could you kindly remove all of these from the bag?” I repeated my demand.
“ But there’s mine. You have no right to ask me to remove it!” The lady sneered.
“ Of course, I’m aware of that. But the bag is mine!” I said sarcastically without ever removing the malicious grin I sketched on my face.
Embarassed, the lady left without such expression that indicate her irritation at being corrected and losing her pride in front of the children who were rather puzzled by grandma’s sudden decision to move to another place of waiting. Perhaps it was karma, I soon received my punishment.
I looked at my watch and it was 9.15pm.WHAT?!!~It can’t be. My bus is supposed to arrive at 9.00pm as stated in the ticket. Wait a minute, my hawk-like eyes suddenly managed to catch sight of something disturbing about my journey back. It was the wrong ticket! I’ve bought the wrong ticket without ever being bothered to examine carefully every last bit of the details printed on my ticket. I cursed my carelessness in not checking the destination of my supposed destination. Instead of the normal KT-SA ticket, I accidentally bought the SA-KT ticket. A ticket wasted and my journey back impeded. I searched through every single ticket counters there were and was rather relieved to hear that there’s one more available ticket back and I painfully fish for money inside my wallet, thinking of the number of meals that I could buy with it.
My “bad luck”(is I would say so myself), did not end there. A few hours after the bus started its journey, I was shocked to know that it broke down in the middle of no where, surrounded only the spooky atmosphere of the palm plantation. The engine malfunctioned and the air conditioning was stopped. There was no sign of human residence nearby and the screeching of cicadas was the only sound that I could hear apart from the occasional murmuring of complaints by the other passages who can barely sleep with shirts soaked wet with sweat. To make matters worse, the bus stopped there for almost 3 hours (with a heavy downpour at the second hour)!
Dear blog,
So what did I learn from the series of event that I had experienced for the past 24 hours?
I learn that I need to be more careful next time.
I learn that life is not easy.
I learn that bad luck can occur anytime, any place due to human mistake and natural mishap.
But most importantly, I won’t be using the service offered by the same bus company, never again!
Have you ever been in this situation whereby you are hoping so hard for an auspicious day to light up your rather boring, repetitious lifestyle? And have you ever experience that after that wish of your, something unpleasant just sneak behind you. Leaving you speechless and vulnerable?
Well, frankly, the past 24 hours can be regarded as one of the most dramatically worst day of my summer. I rarely mention about things happening around me but I think this should be an exception since I’m up to the mood to do so.
After spending almost 3 enjoyable days in the laps of my warm cozy house, I reluctantly dragged my heavy luggage and bags full with local delicacies to the bus station, waiting for my trip back to yet another hectic college life. It was night and the station was swarming with young people like me who were not so eager to abandon the sweet embrace of relaxation and laziness offered in our houses.I had my bus ticket placed neatly in my wallet and I was talking to my father about the latest happenings in my college.
As we were talking, an elderly woman with a lot of bags placed them near to my enourmously looking luggage.Then, she began to removed the worn out batik cloth that was wrapped around her neck and absentmindedly threw it on top of mine luggage.Later, a few children, presumably her grandchildren started to cover my luggage with the jackets that they took off. Initially, I did not pay much attention to the actions of the lady and her family.I was wrong. Before I knew it, her grandchildren put their bags right on top of the jackets and batik cloth.
I simply can’t take it anymore, I made a mental note myself. Therefore, I politely asked the lady to remove the bags and the jackets and the worn out cloth from my luggage.The lady looked at me with such a quizzical look that suggest her surprise at my polite demand.
“What are you talking about?” she replied in rather defensive tone.
“Could you kindly remove all of these from the bag?” I repeated my demand.
“ But there’s mine. You have no right to ask me to remove it!” The lady sneered.
“ Of course, I’m aware of that. But the bag is mine!” I said sarcastically without ever removing the malicious grin I sketched on my face.
Embarassed, the lady left without such expression that indicate her irritation at being corrected and losing her pride in front of the children who were rather puzzled by grandma’s sudden decision to move to another place of waiting. Perhaps it was karma, I soon received my punishment.
I looked at my watch and it was 9.15pm.WHAT?!!~It can’t be. My bus is supposed to arrive at 9.00pm as stated in the ticket. Wait a minute, my hawk-like eyes suddenly managed to catch sight of something disturbing about my journey back. It was the wrong ticket! I’ve bought the wrong ticket without ever being bothered to examine carefully every last bit of the details printed on my ticket. I cursed my carelessness in not checking the destination of my supposed destination. Instead of the normal KT-SA ticket, I accidentally bought the SA-KT ticket. A ticket wasted and my journey back impeded. I searched through every single ticket counters there were and was rather relieved to hear that there’s one more available ticket back and I painfully fish for money inside my wallet, thinking of the number of meals that I could buy with it.
My “bad luck”(is I would say so myself), did not end there. A few hours after the bus started its journey, I was shocked to know that it broke down in the middle of no where, surrounded only the spooky atmosphere of the palm plantation. The engine malfunctioned and the air conditioning was stopped. There was no sign of human residence nearby and the screeching of cicadas was the only sound that I could hear apart from the occasional murmuring of complaints by the other passages who can barely sleep with shirts soaked wet with sweat. To make matters worse, the bus stopped there for almost 3 hours (with a heavy downpour at the second hour)!
Dear blog,
So what did I learn from the series of event that I had experienced for the past 24 hours?
I learn that I need to be more careful next time.
I learn that life is not easy.
I learn that bad luck can occur anytime, any place due to human mistake and natural mishap.
But most importantly, I won’t be using the service offered by the same bus company, never again!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Poem for my amusement
Dear blog,
It's been a very very long time since I've actually composed any poems that are worth the time an effort for me to recite.However, I do strongly believe that each human is born with the ability to think and to construct creative thinking from observations amde around us.Life itself is poetic and filled with emotions and based on that argument that i justify my temporary absence from the luxury of poetry bestowed by art and literature.
Dear blog,
This poem is dedicated to the victims of the Cyclone and survivors of the China earthquake that have featured themselves unknowingly to the attention of people across the globe.
Who is that man who came?
With scars around his weak, slim arm?
Blood adored his forehead,
mixed with sweat and tears dried up.
Who is that woman who came?
With face covered with mud?
Black hair ran wildly down her back,
fists cleched,
eyes wary.
Who is that child who came?
crying,
yelling,
throwing tantrums as hard as he can?
Shirt covered with blood
toys stained with soil.
Who is that leader who came?
feet swollen,
thinner than usual?
haggard than before?
barking at people,
people who turned away their heads unanimously at a cry
Suddenly, there was a cry
faintly,
but definitely a cry
underneath the shambles, rubbles of a once proud building.
It was a cry!
The man was cheering.
The woman was weeping.
The child continue crying.
It was a season of mourning and bitterness.
but the cry changed that
a cry for help
a cry for hope
a cry that broke the darkness
a cry that unites
a cry,
a cry,
a cry of a human that calls back everyone's compassion .
It's been a very very long time since I've actually composed any poems that are worth the time an effort for me to recite.However, I do strongly believe that each human is born with the ability to think and to construct creative thinking from observations amde around us.Life itself is poetic and filled with emotions and based on that argument that i justify my temporary absence from the luxury of poetry bestowed by art and literature.
Dear blog,
This poem is dedicated to the victims of the Cyclone and survivors of the China earthquake that have featured themselves unknowingly to the attention of people across the globe.
Who is that man who came?
With scars around his weak, slim arm?
Blood adored his forehead,
mixed with sweat and tears dried up.
Who is that woman who came?
With face covered with mud?
Black hair ran wildly down her back,
fists cleched,
eyes wary.
Who is that child who came?
crying,
yelling,
throwing tantrums as hard as he can?
Shirt covered with blood
toys stained with soil.
Who is that leader who came?
feet swollen,
thinner than usual?
haggard than before?
barking at people,
people who turned away their heads unanimously at a cry
Suddenly, there was a cry
faintly,
but definitely a cry
underneath the shambles, rubbles of a once proud building.
It was a cry!
The man was cheering.
The woman was weeping.
The child continue crying.
It was a season of mourning and bitterness.
but the cry changed that
a cry for help
a cry for hope
a cry that broke the darkness
a cry that unites
a cry,
a cry,
a cry of a human that calls back everyone's compassion .
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Self-limitation
Dear blog,
What are your limits?
Would you walk across that line that separates you from the "capable" and the "not capable"?
Would you do anything just to change the depressing situation you are at?
Would you show resistance to change even if it means snapping your unused wings?
Would you be considered a freak for attempting the "impossible" in normal people's perspective?
Dare to be different for once?
The western civilization admires men who would take the plunge and have the guts to do things beyond their limitations.The eastern philosophies, on the hand, advocates that man should be more aware of his own capacity and be more submissive towards a greater power.
So tell me, which ideology is realistic in this modern world?
When we choose to ignore something that is always there haunting us with the sense of frustration and irritation, we expose ourselves to a unique state, whereby we are encouraged to make decisions to deal with the situation.
How do you do that? Realizing your self limitation!
Since, it is easier for us to pinpoint our self worth and limits, why is it still hard for us to make decision? As we all know, life is not simply a matter black and white.There's always this shady gray region that has kept itself so distinctly close and yet so mysteriously to our eyes.
When we are troubled by something such as financial crisis or academic worries, we start questioning ourselves. Whether we can do it? Whether the risk is worth it? Should we call quits when the moment is ripe? When we start stacking our minds with these questions, we are being placed within this gray area that serve as a temporary resting place before we head ourselves to the next destination.What destination? The areas beyond the gray region, the place where we put our capabilities to the test or we shirk away from deleterious elements that lurks in the unseen path ahead.
So what really influences our choice at the very end of our journey in life?
Our limits and our choice to push these limits further.
What are your limits?
Would you walk across that line that separates you from the "capable" and the "not capable"?
Would you do anything just to change the depressing situation you are at?
Would you show resistance to change even if it means snapping your unused wings?
Would you be considered a freak for attempting the "impossible" in normal people's perspective?
Dare to be different for once?
The western civilization admires men who would take the plunge and have the guts to do things beyond their limitations.The eastern philosophies, on the hand, advocates that man should be more aware of his own capacity and be more submissive towards a greater power.
So tell me, which ideology is realistic in this modern world?
When we choose to ignore something that is always there haunting us with the sense of frustration and irritation, we expose ourselves to a unique state, whereby we are encouraged to make decisions to deal with the situation.
How do you do that? Realizing your self limitation!
Since, it is easier for us to pinpoint our self worth and limits, why is it still hard for us to make decision? As we all know, life is not simply a matter black and white.There's always this shady gray region that has kept itself so distinctly close and yet so mysteriously to our eyes.
When we are troubled by something such as financial crisis or academic worries, we start questioning ourselves. Whether we can do it? Whether the risk is worth it? Should we call quits when the moment is ripe? When we start stacking our minds with these questions, we are being placed within this gray area that serve as a temporary resting place before we head ourselves to the next destination.What destination? The areas beyond the gray region, the place where we put our capabilities to the test or we shirk away from deleterious elements that lurks in the unseen path ahead.
So what really influences our choice at the very end of our journey in life?
Our limits and our choice to push these limits further.
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