The Winds of Change

I think it is time for me to talk to the weatherman of my life. It is time for the winds of change to pass through my landscape. New features should spring up, giving new beauty to my poem. And I demand changes in my life.

Of Thoughts and Letters

Before I went to sleep this morning, I scoured over my previous blog and journal entries. I realized that all of these years, most of my writings were all about human emotions, about my depression, about my melancholic love story. Honestly, I find them so mawkishly amorous, chronically emotional, and pathetic. I know somehow, someway, they helped me to evade the murderous complications of love. But sometimes it was too much to have a pile of works on this matter.

I need the weatherman to bring the winds of change in this aspect of my life, in my literary life. Instead of doing notes or reflections on love, I think, it is time for me to do expositions on something I observed or something that piqued my ever energetic mind. It is time for me to reach some neuronic orgasm instead of sexual orgasm. I am tired of writing about the matter of the heart, about love, about sex and about romance. The authors who joined me in my intellectual saturnalia must now play important roles in my reflections, something I envisioned to be prolific and valuable content-wise. My understanding of scientific world as well as its philosophical coating will be the center-stage of the next generation of my writings.

So many ideas and concepts were wasted. It was also my fault. I was so lazy to do syntactic and logical analyses of the concepts I was playing around. I was so engrossed with love that I neglected to put them in paper.

What are the things needed to be written? Well, a lot. They encompass a very vast landscape of life, of time, of space. The enigma of the deep space is one of these. Something about the granules of the sand can also tell about the conglomerate of human beings. The existence of the fishes to our existence is very evident and how this had been must be given a little light. If there’s an anthropocentric view, then there is also a gene’s view, relativism in our existence. There are thousands of topics that are playing in my minds and they revolve around the dichotomy of evolutionary physics and mathematical history.

The weatherman will shift my direction from being too sentimental and emotional to something prosaic but cultivated and a little scholarly.

Canvass of Love

I adore realist, expressionist and impressionist paintings. For me they are simulacrum of the real life. And I believe, even now, that they speak of real life. However, every time I look at them, scrutinizing the brush strokes, appreciating the expressions, and imagining the whole landscape they conjure, I am becoming nostalgic, atavistic and again sentimental. This is how I view love in general. However, when I think about love, the world withdraws away from me. And everything will be dark and gloomy leaving me alone and sad. Everytime I think of these kinds of paintings, it reminds me of lonely past and my current mood will be suddenly replaced by depression.

The weatherman must paint something new in my canvass of love, something abstract or post modern. This time all definitions are applicable, any perspective can be assimilated in its ever expanding meaning. Love will no longer exist as a realism of my existence. It will exist as the abstracted meaning of my life, of my ways. I know Pablo Neruda won’t agree with this but I cannot afford to live in love, or to live by love. I have to step on something solid, something rational and reasonable. Love will become an ephemeral substance within and will never be a solid foundation of my existence.

My Piggy Bank

This is really an important part of my life where the weatherman must really intervene. I have to stop living in luxury (to some extent). I was not born with golden or silver spoons. I was born with steel ones. Eating breakfast, lunch and dinner in some classy restaurants must be minimized. Every cent must matter to me. I cannot afford to be irresponsible spender anymore.

It is time for me to have certain affection to my “piggy bank”.

The weatherman must teach me how to be disciplined in managing my finances. I need to remind myself with the story of the “Ant and the Grasshopper”. Being complacent will really bring me a miserable old life. How can I retire in Tibet if I am not going to start saving now?

I am calling the weatherman to intervene in my life and lead me to the direction I want.

Written by: fra ivan
Date: July 19, 2007 1:08 AM