Monday, 9 June 2014

Sine Qua Non

“Men! They are the enemies of our innocence and our peace – they drag us away from our parents’ love and our sisters’ friendship – they take us body and soul to themselves, and fasten our helpless lives to theirs as they chain up a dog to his kennel. And what does the best of them give us in return?” – The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins, Marian’s speech.

"And when I was in the delivery room, waking up from the ether, I asked the nurse whether it was a boy or a girl. She said it was a girl - and I turned my head to the side and cried. And then I said, I hope she grows up to be a pretty little fool. That's about the best a girl can hope for these days, to be a pretty little fool."  – Daisy Buchanan in The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald.


It's a hot, clammy day in June and the sky is heavy with clouds that hang low on the horizon, ready to burst. I sit at my desk sipping tea while I try to gather my notes. The weight of procrastination is almost as suffocating as this damp heat that clings to the skin through the film of sweat it forces the body to produce just sitting there doing nothing.

I think about the human condition... when am I not thinking about it?! My condition, your condition, their condition... our condition. Men, women. Ah, women. Above are two quotes that resonate deeply with me, and I suspect they would resonate with a lot of women out there. In rather few words, these quotes manage to encapsulate so much of the female plight in general... no wasted word or expression - no excessive sorrow or self-pity, here: only sober observations of their time. Irony would have it that the people who created these female characters who spoke such enlightened words were men.

People often like to break
The gentle and fragile things
To see how far their strength
And hubris will stretch.

In their haste sadly they forget
That once damaged and ruined
The gentle little things they miss
Can seldom be mended again.

Friday, 20 December 2013

Upon leaving behind a whole chapter of my life to start a new one I know nothing about but can only embrace in all its scary uncertainties and unknown factors, this is what came to me as the only explication needed:

"All I know is that it just wasn’t for me, and I couldn’t be whatever it is they wanted me to be."

Saturday, 30 November 2013

What use is reason, logic or even wisdom in a world that lacks all three most of the time? You can’t rationalise what makes no sense, and you can’t make sense of people who follow random patterns that lead them nowhere.

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.” – Stephen King

Friday, 29 November 2013

Game over

She, who once was,
Now lies dead in a pool
Of her own blood, 
Killed of her own volition. 

She, who is dead,
Ripped her own heart 
Out of the golden cage 
The world had created for her. 

She died a slow, agonizing death, 
Watching the lifeblood spilled 
Onto the fertile ground, a deathly cradle
From within which she must rise anew.


Sunday, 3 November 2013


"What does that mean—tame?"
"It's an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."
"To establish ties?"
"Just that," said the fox. "to me, you're still nothing more than a little boy who's just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I'm nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you'll be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world …"

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near—
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It's your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you…"
"Yes that is so", said the fox.
"But now you're going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes that is so" said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the colour of the wheat fields."
~ From "The Little Prince" by Antoine de St. Exupery

Saturday, 26 October 2013

nox animae

I feel like… I feel like Neo when he was still trapped in the Matrix, having to go to work in an office full of drones who always knew he didn’t belong and he was the only one who seemed oblivious to it. The film may not have shown it on screen, but I wonder if Neo as a character would have lied in bed at night, eyes wide open to the ceiling in the dark as he pondered endlessly why he never seemed to fit in anywhere he went. Yet while he spent his time wondering what it was that made him feel like a leper among others, all the others always saw that he simply never belonged and they, themselves, kept him at a distance exactly because they could feel that difference and could not understand why he was acting as though he did not see it for himself. 

“Can’t you see what we see?” the people that form the matrix would probably ask in defiant wonder. “You don’t belong here and yet here you are always pretending that you do, but you can’t fool us. You can’t fool us, though you may have managed to fool yourself.”

Perhaps after another long while spent staring at the ceiling in the dark, asking himself pointless questions pertaining to his sense of alienation within the context he so desperately tried to fit into, he finally came to his senses by starting to look outside the box. By walking away from all that is mainstream and obvious to focus on the in-betweens and all that is overlooked.
In other words, instead of looking at the chair, bed, sofa and desk in the room, he started looking at the space between all these obvious objects we deem part of our reality, wondering: what if, in truth, reality was what lay in the apparent void between all that can be seen? 

But I am not Neo, and I'm falling apart.

Sunday, 22 September 2013

A piece of nothing

I feel tired in general… I know I should count my blessings and be grateful for all that I do have. I know that, and I try everyday to be and feel grateful because everywhere there is a reminder of how much worse things can be for people. What kills me is this nagging lack of satisfaction, this… disease of the mind, or soul, which never finds solace in anything because nothing is ever enough, and the grass always looks greener elsewhere. It’s so bad… so wrong and misguided. I know that, and yet the feelings are there. I feel beside the point, and more and more I feel these horrible pangs of jealousy or envy…. And so long as I do I know it will only serve to stunt me.

Why can’t I let go and be at peace inside and out? It’s like… the more time I spend in society, the more infected I become with what I can only call corruption and greed. Long gone are the days when I was able to write my thoughts to a much deeper level… now… now it’s just a daily stream of rambling moans. I’m drowning in a sea of inane banalities of life and there is nothing I can do or will do about it. I don’t even write much at all anymore. The stories have come to a halt and all I do is procrastinate at best. 

It’s 22:22 and tomorrow I have to go back to work… there’s a noisy helicopter flying around… I guess we all got used to those things breaking the silence of night from time to time… it just becomes part of the background after a while and nobody questions it anymore. It’s like those white trails across the sky… most people don’t even notice them anymore, they even mistake them for a completely natural occurrence at times… that’s the essence of what we call reality right there: it’s not about what really ‘is’, it’s about how we perceive it.

It's all about perception.