mindless rambling 1
woke up on monday morning feeling restless, well-rested but restless.. suddenly i have sooo much to think about again. it's weird, cos i like thinking, but this time it's different. i have this huge plate of thoughts in front of me, and fork and knife in hand i sit there, watching the plate, nibbling bits off the sides, but not wanting to dive in headfirst. the plate of thoughts looks like pasta.. spaghetti actually. long, tangled strands of it, twisting and turning, and blending with one another to create this uniform blend of oneness. yet it's heterogeneous cos on some strands i can see words.. little keywords written in blue ink.. standing out. some keywords repeat themselves.. some are names, that show up again and again too.. and i stare at the plate.
i probe with one end of the fork.. trying to draw out a strand.. and a limp spaghetti flops out. it says thesis on it, in bold, royal blue letters. i can make out the font - Arial, what i usually type papers with. now there's something to ponder on. where is it going? is it going? what is it going with? when will it get there? i shake my head to clear it, but the blue letters are still swimming in my eyes, like the little shapes that you sometimes see floating in the cornea of your eye, especially when you look up into bright light.
this time i try to separate two strands.. one is clear, just the corn-yellow of well-cooked spaghetti, but the other enigmatically states attention. now this one is strange. very strange. "attention?" i ask myself, "what attention?". i try to break it down, and a very clear pattern starts to appear. i like being the enigmatic, grey-man in most situations, preferring to know, and be in the backroom, making sure the wheels are spinning. but the showman in me.. blame the E in the ENTP that i am, wants limelight! he wants glory, and he wants it now! he's not interested in what it takes to get there, or how long - he wants his action, and he wants it now!! i realise that i do need attention, not just any attention, from just about anybody.. but i crave the approval of my friends, and those close to me, for i know they are the ones who will be honest in dishing it out. i am definitely a 'giver'.. i get my greatest kicks from being there for people, doing stuff and seeking the limelight, albeit on a smaller setting. it's like being nervous on Broadway, but settling for the same role in Soho.
i go digging again, looking for another word, trying hard to not bias myself by staring vaguely away from the plate. i stab the fork randomly, and pull out homesick. now this is a surprise! i didn't wanna think about this. i didn't even think i had it! what the hell? i've been away from home for going on five and a half years now, i thought i had this baby licked!! i mean, even before that i was always alone at home, and had worked things out then. i had waved goodbye to all my imaginary friends, hundreds of memories, and those walls that i grew up with.. convinced myself that moving away was the best thing i could do for my future.
but when i went back home on vacations after that, those walls of my room, now bereft of their posters and graffiti, stared blankly at me. there was a very eerie silence about my room. metallica roared on the multiple speakers, but yet there was an underlying silence. the first few nights were the worst, as i lay awake, watching the shadows on the curtain. the leaves rustled, the insects chirruped and the wind blew, but the silence remained. i went crazy trying to convince myself that i hadn't betrayed anyone, or run away.. leaving home was just a means to an end. mom, dad, i haven't deserted you, i promise. i will be back again, the prodigal son, bearing great riches and success, so that you can be proud of me. i promise.
i probe with one end of the fork.. trying to draw out a strand.. and a limp spaghetti flops out. it says thesis on it, in bold, royal blue letters. i can make out the font - Arial, what i usually type papers with. now there's something to ponder on. where is it going? is it going? what is it going with? when will it get there? i shake my head to clear it, but the blue letters are still swimming in my eyes, like the little shapes that you sometimes see floating in the cornea of your eye, especially when you look up into bright light.
this time i try to separate two strands.. one is clear, just the corn-yellow of well-cooked spaghetti, but the other enigmatically states attention. now this one is strange. very strange. "attention?" i ask myself, "what attention?". i try to break it down, and a very clear pattern starts to appear. i like being the enigmatic, grey-man in most situations, preferring to know, and be in the backroom, making sure the wheels are spinning. but the showman in me.. blame the E in the ENTP that i am, wants limelight! he wants glory, and he wants it now! he's not interested in what it takes to get there, or how long - he wants his action, and he wants it now!! i realise that i do need attention, not just any attention, from just about anybody.. but i crave the approval of my friends, and those close to me, for i know they are the ones who will be honest in dishing it out. i am definitely a 'giver'.. i get my greatest kicks from being there for people, doing stuff and seeking the limelight, albeit on a smaller setting. it's like being nervous on Broadway, but settling for the same role in Soho.
i go digging again, looking for another word, trying hard to not bias myself by staring vaguely away from the plate. i stab the fork randomly, and pull out homesick. now this is a surprise! i didn't wanna think about this. i didn't even think i had it! what the hell? i've been away from home for going on five and a half years now, i thought i had this baby licked!! i mean, even before that i was always alone at home, and had worked things out then. i had waved goodbye to all my imaginary friends, hundreds of memories, and those walls that i grew up with.. convinced myself that moving away was the best thing i could do for my future.
but when i went back home on vacations after that, those walls of my room, now bereft of their posters and graffiti, stared blankly at me. there was a very eerie silence about my room. metallica roared on the multiple speakers, but yet there was an underlying silence. the first few nights were the worst, as i lay awake, watching the shadows on the curtain. the leaves rustled, the insects chirruped and the wind blew, but the silence remained. i went crazy trying to convince myself that i hadn't betrayed anyone, or run away.. leaving home was just a means to an end. mom, dad, i haven't deserted you, i promise. i will be back again, the prodigal son, bearing great riches and success, so that you can be proud of me. i promise.
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