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September 05 Why insomnia wont go to sleepNot a lot of people know im a chronic insomniac, and now that the damage has actually gotten so bad (my right eye is bloodshot. One eye looks white while the other is filled with red veins) i've started to delve more into my insomnia. Understanding its voice, its persona, its signals. I already know why its here, thats not the issue. The objective at hand is to re-inform myself about my insomnia so much so that is pisses me off enough for me to actually do something about it. So what does insomnia feel like? Its quite simple really, i guess the short explanation would be similar to leaving a car's engine on while the car is fully parked. You know the engine's still on because the car hums, it does things. You know its busy. The same can be said about your mind. I dont really understand how most people just lie into bed and sleep easy. I've had problems with insomnia even since i was a little kid (before all the bullshit in my life) its just sometimes, events and circumstances amplify its effects. When most people lie down and sleep, they naturally and normally relax. With me, i will go on a bed, and it will be no different as if i was standing up. My mind still flickers with thoughts, and those thoughts are completely and utterly random. They could be anxities, they could be happy memories, they could be familiar music, or simple imagination wandering; *what* im thinking about isnt the issue, its the fact that i keep continually doing so that i stay awake. Also your body gets very fidgety. You cant stay in one position for too long. Time passes by, very, very slowly. It feels like 30 mins have passed and i look up at the clock and only 5 mins have gone by. Its because you're waiting. You're in bed, thinking "oh right, anytime now, i'll just fall asleep naturally like any normal person" its only when an hour passes by when you start to think otherwise. And then once that has gone, you begin counting out the hours in your head. If this conintues, i could be here for xyz amount of hours, just staring at the wall. Eventually your whole body gets sluggish. There is a difference between being tired and being relaxed (although the line is very thin) and insomnia is the former. You FEEL very very tired, like you want to just nod off to sleep, but your mind isnt letting you. You stay like that yawning and yawning and stretching, even if you pick up a book or watch a movie, you cant concentrate on it , because your mind is in a very borderline state. Its like if you were about to fall off a cliff, but you were just balancing on the edge. About to fall, and about to come back up. Right in the middle. Eventually you reach something which i call "burnout" which means you just pass out from exhaustion. This has happened a few times on a sofa, on the floor, and on the bed. Its usually when the sun is rising and you realise you've been up the whole night, the whole horror of which just depresses you and actually helps you to relax....out of frustration. I've realised (even though tonight is an insomniac night) that it takes EFFORT to relax. Relax isnt just relaxing. Relaxing is not equal to doing nothing and waiting. Its an actual process (at least for me) where you have to let go and just put your body and mind on standby. And this is the perfect time for me to cut-and-paste my favourite part of Yoga : The Shavasana. The dead man's pose. Shavasana: shavasan is that yogic posture practicing which one is able to still his hyper active brain, control thought process by gaining absolute control over one's breathing, it requires stillness of the body. No tension ... Absolute Calm.Shavasana is best practiced in early morning hours before getting up from the bed or in the night while going to sleep. One can always by practicing shavasana make his body go to deep sleep enabling atman the soul within to play its part.Shava asana is a pose to be practiced whenever body is under tension. Shavasana completely releases all tensions within the body giving the body a new vigor. One must daily practice shavasana posture. It not only helps elevate one on Spiritual plane but also improves the quality of Daily Life. In short, shavasana is simply a posture where you just lie down, arms outstretched, and breathing properly. You have to LET. GO. Of everything. I actually pulled it off once. It felt really unreal. I lost all sensation of the room, of the floor beneath me. Random itches and body pains came to me, but i instantly let go. When my back pain came, i just dismissed the pain, and im not joking, it felt like an electrical current sensation, no more. I've never actually controlled pain that way. Not only that, my breathing became deep, my noses clear, i couldnt feel my body anymore. Im gonna try it again. To get some sleep at least before sunrise.
Your blog has emotions and should not be neglected.She's done it again. She always updates her blog so RELIGIOUSLY. I cant help but feel ashamed. Center space is going through a rebirth now. This is the season of rebirth.
Autumn is here, (the silly americans insist on calling it "Fall") and the trees are dying. It is a period of decay, but also renewal. I can feel like i can relate to these trees somehow. They're not afraid to show what they're shedding. Autumn has its own brown/hazel theme to it. I have to say, i've been naturally attracted to this colour. Brown/beige are very noble colours. The light browns. Not the dark browns. They are strong yet light. The are soft on the eyes but they are also very complicated colours.
Those patches of brown are showing up on the edges of the trees around here. Change is inevitable. You cant escape from it, but you must do your best, with your heart, to change. Trees look beautiful in any season, despite the fact they go through birth, life, death, and silence before birth. Its a shame the same cant be same cant be said about humans. Shame i cant say that about myself. Especially in autumn. The beginningOnce upon a time,
In a kingdom of contradictions. There lay an individual whose potential emotions and words lay subject to censorship and restriction. That individual sought out what he thought was impossible, to define and give a home to these frustrations and inspirations. In the real world, they were not welcomed. Deemed as dangerous and unpleasing to one’s eyes, and quite possibily, restricting the freedom and happiness of the others if read. Yet those words and emotions wanted, no, needed to come out. This is the place, the home, and the sanctuary for all the words, emotions, frustrations, and inspirations that the real world judged intolerable.. July 01 A damp sunday afternoonWind through trees, like a passionate rush through her hair
Remnants of rain, sitting calmly like jewels
And the forest's inhabitants, scarpering through its maze
Like happy children guarding a secret
This is her. This is Nature's visage.
May 16 Part 1 - Untitled storyIt was raining that day, a typically english grey colour, wrapped around the sky. As if God himself had taken a great big paintbrush and painted this partial layer of grey over everything. You dont get much variation of colour when you live in a suburban area. Its a collection of browns, greys, terracottas, and the occasional bright colour you see from some street punk's graffiti on a random wall. The "first day of high school" daddy says, "is the opening to a bright and colourful future", a colourful future in a grey, brown, town. I was in the car at the time, watching the school come into view. A grey school. "Now i've got to get to work, you go on ahead and have a great day". He smiles. I nod, and walk out of the car, letting dad close the door behind me, and walking forward, without saying goodbye. That cant be helped though, its the sheer apprehension that takes its big, strong hand and wraps it around you, a kind of curiosity mixed with fear. Rest assured, it was duty and expectation that was the force behind my footsteps that day. And perhaps the days to come after. ------- I take the keys out and step out of the car. Drove up to some fancy italian restaurant, alone (as always). Its not too bad though, you can just walk in and get a table, and it doesnt need any of that reservation stuff. I think people need that kind of service, where they can walk in at any time and not be denied a table because some fat cat reserved it beforehand. People lead those sort of lives now, where everything goes at such a speed where such spontaneity is really required. It just so happens that i walk into the restaurant for that very reason. I sit down and look at the menu. My eyes reach the 4th item on the list when my phone rings. Its her. She has a funny knack of calling at the most awkward times. Its almost like she has a special countdown timer in her head that counts down to the time that could be the most awkward for me. Still, she's my wife, so i answer it. "Im taking the kids with me to go shopping, would you like anything in particular?" I say no. "Are you sure? We're gonna be there for a long time you know". Again with the intrusions. A "yes, no" and an automated "i love you" later, i close the phone. Order my food, and sit back, and soak up the atmosphere. This is something i do very often, let the surroundings take control. The people talking, the people eating, laughing. The cars passing by. In this tiny little den, i can feel like time has stopped. The whole world moves from the left side of the window view, to the right side, and disappears as soon as it disappears from my sight. --------------
May 08 Favourite lyrics of the momentMoving me with a sound. Opening me within a gesture. Drawing me down and in, Showing me where it all began, Eleven. Under a dead ohio sky Eleven has been and will be waiting Defending his light and wondering Where the hell have i been? Sleeping lost and numb im So glad i've found you Im wide awake and Headed home. (Tool - Jimmy) ------- Confession on the blog floorI have a confession to make.
Im fucking depressed.
Lets go through the symptomps one by one shall we?
You feel miserable and sad.
Totally.
You feel exhausted a lot of the time with no energy .
Like every single fucking morning
You feel as if even the smallest tasks are sometimes impossible.
Yeah, like studying for like 10 mins.
You seldom enjoy the things that you used to enjoy-you may be off sex or food or may 'comfort eat' to excess.
Enter cereal addiction + chocolate addiction.
You feel very anxious sometimes.
The future. I dont want to think about it
You don't want to see people or are scared to be left alone. Social activity may feel hard or impossible.
Just today i didnt want to go out yet i was invited.
You find it difficult to think clearly.
Only sometimes
You feel like a failure and/or feel guilty a lot of the time.
Guilt? No. Failure? Yes.
You feel a burden to others.
Absolutely
You sometimes feel that life isn't worth living.
And its true. My actions reflect that.
You can see no future. There is a loss of hope. You feel all you've ever done is make mistakes and that's all that you ever will do.
Thats all i have done for the past few years.
You feel irritable or angry more than usual.
This isnt barney and the fucking playhouse. Of course im gonna be snappy.
You feel you have no confidence.
In other fields, yes.
You spend a lot of time thinking about what has gone wrong, what will go wrong or what is wrong about yourself as a person. You may also feel guilty sometimes about being critical of others (or even thinking critically about them).
I spent *all* my time thinking about it. How could i not do such a thing?
You feel that life is unfair.
Life *is* unfair. People do things to you, and you are the one to clean up their mess
You have difficulty sleeping or wake up very early in the morning and can't sleep again. You seem to dream all night long and sometimes have disturbing dreams.
Difficulty sleeping. Enough said
You feel that life has/is 'passing you by.'
Yes.
You may have physical aches and pains which appear to have no physical cause, such as back pain.
Head + hands + eyes + legs So what does this mean? Do i qualify for oprah? For fucking ricki lake? No. It means i go to sleep and wake up the next day, with the same duties as any other 17 year old student. The world does not make exceptions. The penalty of a dreamer personality....Having your emotions dictate the way you live can be a tough way of living. A lot of people i know are used to routine, discipline, and timetables. Im totally different, i live my life in such a chaotic way, without order or principle. Thats one of the main reasons why my life has gone so terribly so far, because i've been pushed up this route of discipline. I admit, i am not a very disciplined person, and i find it difficult to stay committed to something i am personally not interested in, which gets a lot of sneers.
Yeah. Im a popular target.
The emotions wash you over completely. If something wonderful happens, your whole day is amplified. I do everything so perfectly. But most of the time i feel very broken. Its like a vase that you fill up with water, but there is a hole at the bottom, so the water keeps going in and in but drips out from the bottom.
I find it very difficult to be orderly and obeidient.
I never intended any of this though. They say, deal with the consequences of your actions, but honestly, i did not sit back 5 years ago and say "in 5 years i shall screw up my life", i just....was myself. I did what was natural to me, what occured to me in the moment. I didnt work for my subjects because escaping life/dreaming/reading seemed more important to me. I just have messed up priorities. I can do the most counter productive things, and be totally justified and happy in doing them. I am that out of sync of life. When you're a dreamer, the emotions will control you. You are at the will of the world.
I suppose the best course of action would be to drop everything im doing and listen to what everyone says and obey.
Just be a good little boy.
I am going to do an experiment tommorow. I will try to be a normal person tommorow. I will try to do all the things normal people do.
Its not who i am underneath. But its what i do, that defines me.
By definition i must be a selfish, lazy parasite.
No more.
Im not doing this for anyone. Im doing this for me. I am doing this to make the boogieman go away. To put insomnia to sleep. To make all the bad people go away. To not be hurt anymore. I deserve that much. May 03 Melted thinMy memory of you is an abandoned theme park. Intact and lonely. I roll your name in my mouth, like a chewing gum that lost its taste a long, long time ago. I expect nothing, yet I ask so much. From somebody I have never truly understood. You might think you’re insignificant, that you’re alone in this world, but I will always remember you, even if your face is a mystery to me in the future. The memory of you will rise up in every person that I will love in the future, lurking there in some dark corner. The hidden dissatisfaction, the absolute hunger is paramount and definitive. Everyone I love is a mould for you. Yet you never come to fill it in. You’ll never come.
Do you remember, those days of innocence, those days of childhood? Curiosity was our religion, and Fear – our high priest. I remember your childlike manner, the way you stacked up word after word, unsure; your tower of words wobbling, about to fall. Your sentences were just that, like a child learning to walk.
And when the time came to part, you did so without second thought. What was I to you? Maybe just another insignificant object. No different to the pen you hold in your hand, or the wall that stares blankly at you, day after day, with its expression fixed. And you are just that. A cold, firm wall. And I am the ghost that passes through it. April 12 A number of different things.Tehreem got into an arguement with her parents again. Its scary. Brings me back to the times when i was in arguements with my own parents. She had her computer confiscated, and her mobile so that means i wont be seeing her online for a while now. I kind of lapsed into this period of deep thought, deep recollection of my past times, and i was just reminding myself of how stubborn i was.
She just surrendered.
Her will finally gave way, and i was really....i dont know, frustrated. If i was in that position, i would've gone all the way, but i think there's a lot of tiny details and subtle things about her i havent really caught onto yet. But thats okay. And then i started visualising all the ways i would've dealt with the situation. I would've been aggressive, dominant, and stubborn.
Shabazz gave his opinion on this stubborn trait of mine, essentially it was negative, and i think thats a fair point. Its almost childish. He mentioned the fact that you have to take abuse from the system in order to manipulate it, and that my stubborn attitude, my inability to integrate, prevents me from moving on and just...evolving i guess.
My mind leads me back to bjork's "undo"
You're trying too hard.
Unfold.
Unfold in a generous way.
Im done now, y'know. Im going to be 18 this year.....an adult. My face is getting older, im getting taller, i think its just time for me to give up now....and move on.
I read a a bit of existentialism theory. The idea that we are thrown into this existance, without choice, and essentially the purpose of existance is....to exist.It toys with the ancient grecian idea that purpose dictated existance, totally flips it around. You embrace everything that existance throws your way, and you create your own existance, not some predefined purpose. Rationality is not the essence of truth, but feeling and honesty is. Sarte said rationality is a lie that people make up to deal with the anxiety of being thrown into an existance that you had no choosing of. I like that a lot.
March 25 Tool concert security guards....You'll often seen in footage of the AEnima concerts, these security guards standing just below the stage ensuring some dumbass doesnt get on the stage and do something stupid. I wonder....
Are they listening to the music too? Do they go back home as Tool fans? Or at least a little bit curious? They stand there like statues. T_T HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A THING???!
Their probably just some hillybilly texan roughnecks.
HEY THERE MARY-SUE! IM BRINGIN BACK SOME HORSERADISH AND LAMB TO HAVE WITH OUR DINNER. *spits* LateralusA friend came over to stay a few days back. Its been a long time since anyone came to stay over. And even longer since its been one of *those* sleepovers. You know. The ones with the nightly discussions. I learnt a lot about him (at least i think i did) in that space of time. A lot of that knowledge surprised me. Took me back. Defied my expectations, my ideas, my perceptions of what i had initially thought. It reminded me of how the people around you, little by little, change subtly.
And at first, thoughts like these frighten me, make me apprehensive. I dont know why.
But the more i think about it, the more it comforts me.
We're all making steps. We're all evolving. We're all living.
I love all my friends, maybe not equally, and maybe there's some favouritism, but each of them does mean something special. Parts of me, bits i thought i lost, bits i thought i couldnt recover, how to smile, how to laugh, how to dream, how to be ambitious, to be weak, to be vunerable, to have a strong resolve. To get through okay - all of these things, and so much more, i felt i've rediscovered.
I dont even know why im trying to say in this blog entry....my thoughts gets so muddled up and then the words all come out wrong....initially i felt upset, upset that people; the world; was changing, and in a sense, my memories being invalidated by my friends new behaviour, but its just like maynard says : Reaching out to embrace the random. Reaching out to embrace whatever may come.
And i think about it more, when is the last time i reached out? I stretched my hand, and grabbed something and made it mine? I've always been sticking to old habits, old memories, old disappointments. I feel like i've been living through a film reel. Whens the last time i felt comfortable in my own room, whens the last time i felt i could relax here? Why cant i be relaxed in my own home?
Imagination is a very powerful thing. You can use it to paint your mind with all these morbid things, the people who you loved and never loved you back, the friends who left you behind, the people who never listened. You can imagine these things up, bring them back up again, and let it dictate the way you live your life. But then imagine happiness. Imagine a smile.
Im pulling a big grin right now, and i dont even know why. If only i could actually phone tehreem. I'd wake her up, and be all like "you know im feeling happy right now and i have no reason why, but i just wanted to tell you that" She'd probably smile or something. Tehreem. Teh-reem. I cant describe this person properly. Its too difficult. Words would be a horrible crime. Because they wouldnt accurately represent her at all. Here's a person who understands my being, my existance, my humour, my childish inhibitions. My artistic inspirations. We share so much....i thought i was the only one. She just gets it. She understands it all. Every single bit. I feel like me and her, share the same mind. We're just fueled by expression. Art. Beauty. Its too much to explain. I'd be here all night.
Ismael is like....my link to...who i was, the kind of life i was leading. I was living a double life at the time, but his double life is, even more striking. Its two completely different people. When i talk with him, when he speaks, when he expresses himself, its like....the conflict of the two sides. That conflict, its so....familiar. That familiarity is something that draws me to him. "my fear begins to fade ....recalling all of those times..". Here was someone i shared my childhood with, practically. I remember all those times in the back room. I remember playing harry potter on playstation. I remember reading tintin. I remember the back garden. Such a long way, and now him, and me now. It feels like growth. It feels like evolution. It feels like i've come a long way, despite all my belief's before of me, just repeating myself over and over.
Shabazz is like....so buisnesslike. He described woodhouse as "a means to an end" i think thats the way he lives his life. He's so efficient. If he wants something in life, he takes it. He doesnt compromise. He gets everything done. His life isnt dictated by some console game or some persistant internet screen. He, unlike us, is human. He inspires me a lot in that way.
Shuaib. A flash of brilliant intelligence. Shuaib is the kind of person that says more when he's not speaking at all. I love shuaib too......his improvised ghetto etiquette with occasional flashes of unforgiving intelligence.....his intelligence is so brutal, so harsh. Its refreshing. Its like a fist up the arse. (Stinkfist - Tool)
Ahh well....im tired.....gotta go to bed soon.....
March 20 An interesting surpriseMy dad works in Doha, Qatar, and we live over here in london. He suddenly just walked through the front door 20 mins ago. Without telling us. I guess it was supposed to be a surprise. Granted, i was surprised. Then afterwards overcome with a great feeling of resentment. He brought lots of chocolates, and now he's gone out with my mum to shop for new things for the kitchen. Just like my father, shower us with money.
He pays for my existance, but just dont forget daddy; you cant put a price on Love. The genius of sylvia plath and other things~Im going through a Sylvia Plath Shrine period right now. Her writing appeals to me right now in this current moment in time. Of course, she appeals to me most of the time, but this is the one of those times where you can really feel her writing resonate in the world around me. Her writing has this unforgiving ruthlessness, a bitter tone, an anger and a cold, subdued silence at what the world around her has done.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions. The city is a map of cheerful twitters now, And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank, Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed. Sylvia Plath killed herself because she was disgusted at the world around her. She was bitter that her father was taken away from her as a child. If Sylvia Plath existed in this day and age, she would've been labelled as weak. Because this world is categorised into the strong and the weak, the good and the evil, the successful and the unsuccessful, the rich and the poor.
How does weakness inspire such beauty, such imagery, such eloquence?
Its because she was right. But she had a price to pay for that. The price was the conflict of what she had to do in order to survive, but surviving meant choosing to live in a world that she was disgusted with. That repulsion, inspired the poetry she wrote.
I feel i can relate to her somehow. They say "education" but all i see is slavery. Teachers dont inspire me anymore. They just feed me their examination board bullshit. Oh yes, today we shall look at this text because it is within our syllabus. Why do that? Why relate it to the syllabus? Why be so tight?
It reminds me of my chemistry and english teachers. In the beginning, they threw people out of the class if they talked about the syllabus. The classroom was an enviroment where teachers laid out a network of knowledge, each and every interconnecting thread, shining in all its glory, the synchronicity of it all. It was all so connected. Now when i go in, exam dates are shoved in my face. Assessment objectives, syllabus sections......it amazes me that such jargon is even classified as within the boundries of english language.
The funny thing is, im to take the blame. I am blameworthy for being the black sheep, i am blameworthy because i am not inspired by what is taught. Im blamed for doing things differently. Im blamed for wanting to escape by what im naturally disgusted by. I am blamed for my nature. For being me.
So go ahead. Blame me.
March 14 NoooooooooooooYou know im feeling SO creative right now. I just took the extensive express course to midnight creativity, the ingridients are as follows : A pair of matching pyjama's with comfy 100% cotton 1 hour of compulsory anime viewing. At least one bowl of cereal A hot chocolate with double cream At least 20 mins of reading Tehreem javed's blog At least 20 mins of reading Syeda's blog Must browse through The Impossibility diaries Must imagine Shibuya junction What a cracker recipe huh? Well i did EVERYTHING perfectly, im feeling so creative right now, and guess what? IM FUCKING SLEEPY. This is SO not funny. I finally cash in on god's half price sale for creative thoughts (he sells these things when the owls hoot and when the stars show in the sky, just if your wondering, the currency is the hours of your sleep) and it ends so quickly? Like WTF? I wanna write more! I wanna imagine more! I dont wanna go to bed? My body is giving in slowly now. Stupid body! Why couldnt i just be some Chinese Water Spirit or something. I would've done the job perfectly you know! Ugh! *screams*. Im going to bed now. Random writing at 3 in the morning.It was snowing that day when i left the building. The school building. The smell of winter, water, dead leaves altogether in a thin, crispy, biting air that seemed to penetrate my very being. It was graduation day to be exact, it was time for us to move on, to bigger, better things. The music blasting in my ear, decorating my surroundings, deafining the screams from students, the sounds of snowballs hitting cars, the crunching snow beneath my feet. It didnt stop me from noticing her walking across the road. Walking away. She looked so old now, much different than the girl, no....the Friend i used to know. My eyes moved down to the footprints she made in the snow. The snowstorm masking every step.
Reminds me of the nature of this world. Every step of hers was replaced with fresh white snow for someone else to step in. Dont find your place in this world, thats okay, you just get replaced with someone who *does* fit the resume.
I turned around, walking back home. Phonecall. Usual polite "toss and catch" with parents on the phone. Same thing everyday really, did it really make a difference whether i wanted salt or pepper on my food? Or what time i was coming back home? Toss and catch. Caught.
I looked back briefly. She was gone. But one thing i want you to know is people never leave you that easily. Is that fatalistic? No, thats what they'll tell me to think. The truth is, everyone has subsitutes for the type of people they miss. The truth is, nobody wants to be alone. The people surrounded with people can afford to say, "this and that is fatalistic" but they dont want to be alone. Nobody does. She couldnt be replaced. Because she was everyone. And when she left, nobody was left anymore. I was alone, with only the cold wind, and the occasional snowflake.
-----
March 06 A bit of the old nostalgia creeping inI have a lot of pictures on my computer. A lot of the pictures i collect is just random junk for my msn display pic because i thought it would look cool. Back in some distant dynasty, i actually decided to organise (yes, shock horror) this section of my pc into neat folders. These are as follows :
Graphic design : My portfolio of icky photoshop creations Photography : What random moments of sanity i managed to salvage in pictures i have taken
Random pictures : Pictures i pulled off the internet. Google image search if you will.
Not so random : This folder i wanted to talk about.
In this folder, are....group pictures of my classmates over the years. Pictures of people who i valued highly but didnt exactly think the same of me. And even though those people are gone....or rather, my relationship with those people are gone, i still keep those pictures. Is it like mourning? Am i mourning the death of something?
There is one picture that stands out more than all of them put together. It was taken in the year 2000. At the london dungeon. The london dungeon is an eccentric museum, its all about the medevil times, but more of the gruesome parts of london history. The staff are all dressed up as vampires and whatnot. Well yeah moving on, it was my first school trip in high school. I remember so clearly towards the end of the trip, i only had 5 pounds on me. Everyone chose to buy souvenirs like fake blood and whatnot, but i chose to buy the group picture. Thinking i might look back on it some day and smile. I still have that picture, only when i look back on it, i dont smile.
Because its death. Its not the death of the friendships, but its the death of my former self. The death of my smile, the death of innocence and naivity. I look at that picture then i look at the mirror. Two totally different people. Who was that young boy in the picture, smiling along with all the other boys? Did i really know him? At times i want to reach into that picture, to grab him, hug him, and whisper in his ear : "Never make this and that mistake", i wonder what he would've said to me. I know....
He would've smiled. Blogging in generalI dont understand how people can keep blogging up in such an amazing pace! Im really jealous of tehreem and syeda who keep their blogs updated so regularly. Not just that but with amazing content. I dont really value my blog that well, its like those cats that come outside your doorstep and you occasionally pet them. I treat my blog with that kind of courtesy. Thats a bit rude :P, so mr blog i will try to update you regularly with more teenage-angst posts, more photos, more thought provoking bullshit, and just about anything else that might come into my head! March 01 Another rant.I think i learnt a lot about myself today. Im a really demanding person, demanding of my surroundings, the kind of currency i use is communication and emotions. When people turn the other cheek it just makes me revaluate my link to that person, whether if im just being used or something you know. Sometimes i think my msn list is just some sort of showcase or some sort of show im putting on, in order to prove to myself that, im worth knowing. I hate seeing only 1 or 2 people online, it just kind of reminds me how we're all alone in this world.....makes me feel like im unwanted. God thats just so depressing. Thomas Hardy said it really well when like, all we are to each other is a passing thought. Maybe just a little captured imagination. This world....sometimes i wonder why god placed humans to live beside each other if we all spend our entire lives avoiding each other.....i just wanted to connect with people.....to kind of share what happened in our day and laugh/cry/complain about it all. Makes you kind of appreciate life you know? Appreciate it from another perspective. I feel like people shut me off from that. Whatever man. This fucking blog entry doesnt even count for shit. Im gonna go to sleep like a good boy and wake up on time and go to college just like my parents want. Not like what i want and feel really fucking counts anyway.
February 16 First post entryWe're heading to Qatar to visit my dad tommorow. I absolutely love airports, they are like a transition between two worlds. The space in between, where everybody meets in the middle. You see people from all over the world. I almost wish i could jump on all different planes to visit all the different countries.
It makes me remind of what im leaving behind in london. We're only going for 10 days but i still feel that way. All my memories....so many....so many feelings. Sometimes i try to string them up in a single line, trace my finger along the different time phases. Where i laughed, where i cried, where i was reborn, where i realised. And that line of memory, as i trace it up to the present, suddenly fades away and disappears. I cant feel anything significant. I cant note anything in my memory because each day is the same. Its like i died, but my body lives on. I lost the will to live, but im still alive.
Its difficult, as an artist, as a dreamer, as a poet - to really find your place in this world. The world was never so bent on capitalism like this. We live in a society where the rich get richer, and the poor stay poor. As an artist, our position in the world was never to compete and make the most money - it was to humbly survive and enjoy our precious life moments. But when you place someone like that, in a capitalist society, we die. We wilt. A beautiful flower has been placed in the wrong soil.
Its this im struggling with. In all fairness and honesty, i wish i could write. I wish i could make a living from writing. But my parents dont hear any of it. What if im no good? What if the fat cats in the buisness suits dont approve? Its all so scary and daunting.
Having said all these truths and axioms, i cant escape. Im chained to my parents and my family, who are determined every bit to live life out like this. I have a younger sister. My parents are getting old. And im only getting older. I have to support everyone. Let alone summon the will to support myself. Despite everything i am, everything i have been, every definition - all of this means nothing. If i dont like working my way up society, well thats tough, because its not just for me, other people need my support too. So what do i do?
I want to hold that emotion in my hand when we come back to london. When i land back here. I want to capture it in a bottle and remember it forever. That feeling, of inevitability, that feeling of acceptance and resignation to your fate. Your duty. Our opinions, our dreams, our emotions dont mean squat to this world, or even your own family. Your duty is your life. Its your responsibility. I have to tackle this. I have to end this and become one again, no matter how much it hurts.
Never forget the beautiful flower. It was once beautiful, it was once dazzling, but now it sheds its petals and surrenders itself to the soil its buried in. A soil made of money.
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